
This is a story about Sarasota’s first railroad.
The first train was called the
‘Slow and Wobbly’ by the local residents. It ran from the county seat in "Bradentown" to
Sarasota; the inaugural run took place on May 16, 1892, the venture lasted for 3 years.
Little if any ballast had been used when the tracks were laid and, as a result, the train always wobbled and staggered along, appearing every moment as though it would topple. And it often did! One time the engine rolled over when it reached the water tower just outside Bradentown and the tower collapsed. After that the engineer siphoned the water needed out of ponds along the right of way.
The engine was a dilapidated Civil War, wood burner with a huge firebox and a towering smokestack that poured forth soot and sparks. The ‘train’ consisted of two flat cars, one of which was covered with a canvas canopy to protect the passengers from the sun, rain and smoke. This car, which had uncovered plank seats, was dignified by the name “the day coach.”
There was no station; one had to climb a stepladder to get to the platform and the entrance to the ‘white folks’ passenger car. The other car was used for ‘colored’ people, mail and freight. The schedule of this, the first railway in all of Manatee County, was timed by the arrival of the steamer “Margaret” of the Plant Steamship Line, from
Port Tampa, and the steamer “Manatee”, of the Independent line, also from Tampa. They had the mail contract filling-in the gap between the Tampa railroad terminal and Bradentown in Manatee County.
The train started on the judgment of the conductor in charge; at any rate, he ran the train to suit himself, usually starting when the mailbags were delivered to him. The black smoke from the fat pine fuel made it hard to tell that the engineer was a ‘white’ man. The Negro fireman was so black that the smut kind of left a white mark on him. These three made up the crew of the train. One trip made along with an early passenger, his wife, his sister, and her husband, is a fair example of this innovation in the mail service, carried before this time by buggy or on horseback.
The following is his description of the trip.
“When the conductor was ready, and steam was up to the desired pressure, indicated mostly by the leaky cylinder glands, he signaled the engineer to start going, a sign for a prolonged blowing of the whistle and ringing of the bell, thus notifying the public they were off once more. Lou Duckwall, the conductor, brought his dinner pail aboard and left it on the floor under the bench seat near the door opening. Pretty soon the train was weaving through the woods, rattling and squeaking its winding way, between ditches that had been excavated to raise the narrow gauge track above the ordinary level of the woods.
The track had settled in many places, making it rough riding, so much so, that the conductor’s lard can dinner pail worked its way back on the floor and fell out. He just noticed it and made a grab, but missed it, leaned out making frantic efforts to call engineer James Nichols’ attention to stop the train. Being so informed, Nichols stopped and backed slowly, all hands and passengers watching to find the lost pail. After going back for about a mile someone shouted, “there it is” pointing to the dry ditch. Our conductor hopped out and secured it, the contents still in the dinner pail and apparently all right. He climbed up the iron steps, working himself back into the car, laughingly placed the wayward pail in a more secure place, not much worried about this event. Time seemingly was no object. It appeared funny enough to us, and we all had a good laugh over the incident.
While the train was puffing and snorting along, the engineer tooting the whistle at every cow or cow’s husband he passed in the woods, the steam vapor sifted its way through the canvas, making our ride ever more uncomfortable.
Along about Oneco we stopped to take on wood where it was stacked in cords on a platform. All hands helped to put it aboard the tender, bantering in the meantime with Simmy, an old Cracker who had the job of keeping the engine in fuel. He was unloading his rickety wagon pulled by a cow and a bull.
Once more we started off, shouting “so long” to Simmy, through the piney woods, getting all shaken up on the primitive road when the smell of something burning arrested our attention. Everybody looked around to see if their clothes were afire, when the discovery was made that a spark had filtered through a hole in the canvas and got into the sister’s parasol. The breeze fanned it into a blaze. The parasol was thrown out of the car, a complete loss.
The fare for this eventful trip, two dollars each, that brought us to
Sarasota where we alighted onto a platform at the front of a one room shack in the woods.” The station crew often “forgot” to transfer the fares to Gillespie, the railroad’s train manager.
ALAS!
To be continued..
Copyright © Leland G. Desmon. The information on this page may not be reproduced or republished on another webpage, website, or other printed material. Please
LINK TO US instead.
Photo Credit: Sarasota County Historical Resources