Death by Inches - Working on the Railroad Was a Dangerous Occupation
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The snow sheds above Donner Lake mark the path of the Central Pacific Railroad. Ed Marsh's wild ride occurred in this area above the west end of Donner Lake.
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The old wooden snow sheds above Donner Lake were built by the Central Pacific Railroad in the late 1860s and early 1870s to prevent snow slides and avalanches from burying the tracks. An incident in 1876 illustrated to the railroad how bad the avalanches could be. However, the sheds could not stop all problems from occurring.
The railroad maintained a telegraph system along the tracks, but it was on the outside of the sheds and tunnels. This telegraph controlled train movements, so it had to be maintained during even the worst snowstorms. Men on snowshoes patrolled the line repairing breaks in the telegraph wire. At the time, what were called snowshoes were actually ten foot wooden skis.
The Truckee Republican newspaper reported on the close call of one of these brave men. In early January of 1876, telegraph troubleshooter Ed Marsh was on his route east of Donner Pass, on his long pine skis. At a point where the worst slides always occurred, he found an immense avalanche that had taken down the wire. Below this point the mountain falls off dramatically, almost to the west end of the lake. The previous slide had taken this route, ending up at the bottom of the mountain, burying Donner Creek.
The ground was sloped at a forty degree angle so he could not work on his skis. His job was to string a new wire across the break and reconnect it. As he started across the avalanche chute he noticed that not all of the cornice above had slid down.
Just as Marsh got to the other side of the smooth, hollow track, the overhanging cornice and the upper slope broke loose. Tearing itself loose from a spur of Donner Peak, it swept down on Marsh and carried him away. The avalanche also carried boulders, trees, and Ed Marsh down the mountain.
He was tossed and turned, head over heels, upside down much of the time, and saw stars most of the time. When the avalanche stopped, Marsh was on top of the snow. He landed on top of one hundred feet of snow from both slides that covered Donner Creek. No other people were within several miles, and no one else knew what had happened.
After catching his breath and finding his bearings, he thought about what to do next. He didn't have any broken bones, or serious injuries. He also didn't have his skis, they were up at the railroad, a thousand feet up. Recent storms had left up to ten feet of loose powder snow on the old wagon road to Summit Station and to Truckee. No one traveled that road during the winter any more.
There was only one way to go, back up. Marsh slowly, painfully climbed up the mountain. He stayed mostly on the hard packed surface just inside the edge of the avalanche path, praying that no other slides would come down and bury him. Foot by foot he kicked in steps to keep moving uphill.
It took him less than a minute to come down, but half a day to climb back up. When he finally reached his skis, he was the happiest man on earth. After that experience, Ed Marsh vowed to have his skis with him in case he was called into the canyon again. He went on to repair the telegraph line and continue his duties. That was the type of men that battled the winter storms for the railroad in the 1870s.
Today, the concrete snow sheds do not have rail traffic in them. A two mile long tunnel under Donner Peak avoids the route along the edge of the mountain where Ed Marsh went for his avalanche ride. Ed Marsh was a lucky man, a few inches either way and no one would known what happened.
A Different Outcome
A few days later, John Carney tested his luck and was not so lucky. The January 19, 1876 edition of the Truckee Republican reported that John Carney had been employed by the railroad up until a few days before. He was working with his brother William Carney at Cascade Station, just west of Soda Springs.
Carney resigned his position and came to Truckee . A day later he received a letter from his brother asking him to return to Cascade. He attempted to hitch a ride on the engine of a freight train from Truckee, but his request was denied. Determined to get back up the mountain, and not wanting to wait for a passenger train, he hopped on the cars of the westbound freight train.
At Summit Station, a brakeman saw Carney riding on top of a box-car. Carney told him that the ride through the tunnels and snow sheds was terrifying, due to the icicles hanging from the ceilings. To keep from being swept off of the top of the car, he moved to the side of the car, hanging onto the ladder. The brakeman told him this was even more dangerous, and to get back on top.
At the Cascade siding, another train was passed, and that engineer saw Carney hanging onto the side of the car again. The train picked up speed on its downhill run towards Sacramento . At the upper Cascade bridge, Carney jumped off of the train from the box-car ladder. The veteran engineer Thomas Forsythe, and his fireman watched him leap off the ladder and thought he was clear of the train, but weren't sure.
In an instant, the train was into another snow shed, totally enveloped in darkness, so Forsythe couldn't stop right then. At the next siding, Forsythe stopped his engine, took a lamp and looked over the box-car for blood. He found that grease had been wiped off of one of the wheels, and feared that Carney might have been injured. Forsythe flagged down an eastbound passenger train, and told the conductor to be on the lookout for the injured man at the east bridge.
As the passenger train's engineer moved on, he did not expect to see Carney for at least another mile and a half. Just a half mile up the track, he spotted something dark and round on the tracks, and put on the brakes. Unfortunately, it was the body of John Carney.
Carney had not made a clean leap, but had hung onto or been caught on part of the moving train. He was dragged a half mile, before his body fell off the train. A Truckee Coroner's inquest ruled the accident was not the fault of the railroad. Alcohol was not believed to be a factor either. John Carney was a native of Ireland, and was just 24 years old. The funeral was held in Truckee.
If John Carney had jumped out a few inches further, he would have survived, and had a story to tell that would have matched Ed Marsh's ride.
The dangerous occupations in Truckee's history went on for many decades until the U.S. Government stepped in with modern workplace safety laws. Even so many workers and skiers today are just a few inches from death in their jobs and sports, and need to think about what happened to Ed Marsh and John Carney.
The railroad maintained a telegraph system along the tracks, but it was on the outside of the sheds and tunnels. This telegraph controlled train movements, so it had to be maintained during even the worst snowstorms. Men on snowshoes patrolled the line repairing breaks in the telegraph wire. At the time, what were called snowshoes were actually ten foot wooden skis.
The Truckee Republican newspaper reported on the close call of one of these brave men. In early January of 1876, telegraph troubleshooter Ed Marsh was on his route east of Donner Pass, on his long pine skis. At a point where the worst slides always occurred, he found an immense avalanche that had taken down the wire. Below this point the mountain falls off dramatically, almost to the west end of the lake. The previous slide had taken this route, ending up at the bottom of the mountain, burying Donner Creek.
The ground was sloped at a forty degree angle so he could not work on his skis. His job was to string a new wire across the break and reconnect it. As he started across the avalanche chute he noticed that not all of the cornice above had slid down.
Just as Marsh got to the other side of the smooth, hollow track, the overhanging cornice and the upper slope broke loose. Tearing itself loose from a spur of Donner Peak, it swept down on Marsh and carried him away. The avalanche also carried boulders, trees, and Ed Marsh down the mountain.
He was tossed and turned, head over heels, upside down much of the time, and saw stars most of the time. When the avalanche stopped, Marsh was on top of the snow. He landed on top of one hundred feet of snow from both slides that covered Donner Creek. No other people were within several miles, and no one else knew what had happened.
After catching his breath and finding his bearings, he thought about what to do next. He didn't have any broken bones, or serious injuries. He also didn't have his skis, they were up at the railroad, a thousand feet up. Recent storms had left up to ten feet of loose powder snow on the old wagon road to Summit Station and to Truckee. No one traveled that road during the winter any more.
There was only one way to go, back up. Marsh slowly, painfully climbed up the mountain. He stayed mostly on the hard packed surface just inside the edge of the avalanche path, praying that no other slides would come down and bury him. Foot by foot he kicked in steps to keep moving uphill.
It took him less than a minute to come down, but half a day to climb back up. When he finally reached his skis, he was the happiest man on earth. After that experience, Ed Marsh vowed to have his skis with him in case he was called into the canyon again. He went on to repair the telegraph line and continue his duties. That was the type of men that battled the winter storms for the railroad in the 1870s.
Today, the concrete snow sheds do not have rail traffic in them. A two mile long tunnel under Donner Peak avoids the route along the edge of the mountain where Ed Marsh went for his avalanche ride. Ed Marsh was a lucky man, a few inches either way and no one would known what happened.
A Different Outcome
A few days later, John Carney tested his luck and was not so lucky. The January 19, 1876 edition of the Truckee Republican reported that John Carney had been employed by the railroad up until a few days before. He was working with his brother William Carney at Cascade Station, just west of Soda Springs.
Carney resigned his position and came to Truckee . A day later he received a letter from his brother asking him to return to Cascade. He attempted to hitch a ride on the engine of a freight train from Truckee, but his request was denied. Determined to get back up the mountain, and not wanting to wait for a passenger train, he hopped on the cars of the westbound freight train.
At Summit Station, a brakeman saw Carney riding on top of a box-car. Carney told him that the ride through the tunnels and snow sheds was terrifying, due to the icicles hanging from the ceilings. To keep from being swept off of the top of the car, he moved to the side of the car, hanging onto the ladder. The brakeman told him this was even more dangerous, and to get back on top.
At the Cascade siding, another train was passed, and that engineer saw Carney hanging onto the side of the car again. The train picked up speed on its downhill run towards Sacramento . At the upper Cascade bridge, Carney jumped off of the train from the box-car ladder. The veteran engineer Thomas Forsythe, and his fireman watched him leap off the ladder and thought he was clear of the train, but weren't sure.
In an instant, the train was into another snow shed, totally enveloped in darkness, so Forsythe couldn't stop right then. At the next siding, Forsythe stopped his engine, took a lamp and looked over the box-car for blood. He found that grease had been wiped off of one of the wheels, and feared that Carney might have been injured. Forsythe flagged down an eastbound passenger train, and told the conductor to be on the lookout for the injured man at the east bridge.
As the passenger train's engineer moved on, he did not expect to see Carney for at least another mile and a half. Just a half mile up the track, he spotted something dark and round on the tracks, and put on the brakes. Unfortunately, it was the body of John Carney.
Carney had not made a clean leap, but had hung onto or been caught on part of the moving train. He was dragged a half mile, before his body fell off the train. A Truckee Coroner's inquest ruled the accident was not the fault of the railroad. Alcohol was not believed to be a factor either. John Carney was a native of Ireland, and was just 24 years old. The funeral was held in Truckee.
If John Carney had jumped out a few inches further, he would have survived, and had a story to tell that would have matched Ed Marsh's ride.
The dangerous occupations in Truckee's history went on for many decades until the U.S. Government stepped in with modern workplace safety laws. Even so many workers and skiers today are just a few inches from death in their jobs and sports, and need to think about what happened to Ed Marsh and John Carney.
This article by Gordon Richards originally appeared in the March 12, 2004 Echoes From The Past Column in the Sierra Sun
