Did you know that two trains were smashed into each other back in 1896 just for the simple desire to see what would happen?
Yes! And it happened just south of Dallas and our Dallas apartments!
Here’s the story of how a publicity stunt drew more people than the second-largest city in Texas to a remote piece of railroad to see some shrapnel fly.
The biggest intentional train crash in Texas
The Missouri–Kansas–Texas Railroad
The Missouri–Kansas–Texas Railroad was a railroad company headquartered in Dallas, Texas which operated for over a century from 1870 to 1988. It still exists today, though as part of the larger and more extensive Union Pacific Railroad system.
At the time of the Crash at Crush, though, the MK&T (or “Katy” as it was called) had only just reached Texas from Kansas and was establishing routes and stations in Dallas, Waco, Austin and San Antonio. Just a few years earlier, the Houston & Texas Central Railway (H&TC) and the Texas & Pacific Railway (T&P) had met in Dallas, which, along with the MK&T railroad, made Dallas a hub for railroads coming from the north, south, east and west.
It was a big era for railroads in Texas, to say the least.
As the MK&T grew and spread throughout Texas, older, more obsolete steam engines were replaced with more efficient and powerful ones. This means that as the railroad expanded toward Houston from Dallas, MK&T officials found themselves with more retired locomotives than they knew what to do with.
Conceptualizing the crash
One of the officials at MK&T had an idea to kill several birds with one stone. Or, at least, make several thousand dollars with two trains.
William George Crush was a general passenger agent for MK&T and had heard of a successful locomotive crash publicity stunt done in Lancaster, Ohio by the Columbus and Hocking Valley Railroad company in May of 1896. The stunt, which involved two locomotives colliding head-on, was intended to raise awareness how accessible and entertaining rail travel could be and to encourage viewers to take more railroad trips. The event ended up drawing over 20,000 people who, though no entrance fee was charged, brought in plenty of profit through the discounted rail tickets purchased to get there.
George Crush envisioned an event similar to the one in Ohio right here in Texas. The stunt would attract visitors from all over Texas and, ultimately, drive up interest in rail travel on the newly-established MK&T lines in the state. Crush’s superiors loved the idea, and planning got underway immediately.
The event comes to life
George Crush planned his event for September 15, 1896 — mere months after the crash in Ohio that inspired him.
Crush chose a section of railroad about 14 miles north of Waco, Texas and built a 4-mile section of rail alongside the main line on which he placed two retired 35-ton steam locomotives: No.999 and No. 1001. Officials tested the speeds of both locomotives to determine their meeting point, which they then designated as the town of “Crush, Texas.” Honestly, what a great way to live up to your own name!
The meeting place became a small town of its own during the preparations for the big crash. Two water wells were built to provide water to spectators, as were several speaker’s stands, a grandstand and a press platform. The Ringling Brothers provided a large circus tent that was used to cater lunches provided by the MK&T’s own eating and dining services. Two telegraph offices were built, as was a mock train depot alongside the tracks. A whole carnival set up shop at the site, too, with games, cigar stands, lemonade stands, soft-drink dispensers and entertainment throughout.
It was no small event, certainly, and George Crush anticipated a grand turnout. He made sure to promote the event all over Texas and offered free admission to the event, as well as offering discounted tickets to the event from anywhere in the state.
In the end, over 40,000 people arrived to the event on the morning of September 15. Not only was this a huge turnout for an event that, for many, required a fair amount of travel, but the population of “Crush” surpassed that of the second-largest town in Texas at the time.
The Crash at Crush
If, during the course of this story, you thought that maybe crashing two steam locomotives directly into each other head-on was not the greatest of ideas, you’d be on the right track (hah!).
It took a while for officials to start the crash since, as with many large events, crowd control was becoming a problem. Journalists were allowed to get to within 100 yards of the crash, but spectators were urged to remain a “safe” distance of 200 yards away from the crash site. Police struggled to keep the excited viewers from moving inward and, after a short delay, the event began.
The Dallas Morning News, in an article published the next day, describes what happened next best.
"The smoke was pouring from their funnels in a great black streak and the popping of the steam could be distinctly heard for the distance of a mile. People were standing on tiptoe from every point of vantage trying to see every movement of the wheels that were so soon to roll to destruction... At 10 minutes after 5, Crush raised his hat and a great cheer went up from the throats of all the people.
"The rumble of the two trains, faint and far off at first, but growing nearer and more distinct with each fleeting second, was like the gathering force of a cyclone. Nearer and nearer they came, the whistles of each blowing repeatedly and the torpedoes which had been placed on the track exploding in almost a continuous round like the rattle of musketry... They rolled down at a frightful rate of speed to within a quarter of a mile of each other. Nearer and nearer as they approached the fatal meeting place the rumbling increased, the roaring grew louder...
"Now they were within ten feet of each other, the bright red and green paint on the engines and the gaudy advertisements on the cars showing clear and distinct in the glaring sun.
The train crew had leaped off their trains just after setting them on their course and, by the time the locomotives met, the trains had reached speeds of nearly 50 miles per hour each, with each locomotive carrying six cars filled with heavy rail equipment.
"A crash, a sound of timbers rent and torn, and then a shower of splinters.
"There was just a swift instance of silence, and then as if controlled by a single impulse both boilers exploded simultaneously and the air was filled with flying missiles of iron and steel varying in size from a postage stamp to half of a driving wheel…
Officials had expected metal and wood to go flying the instant the crash happened. What the officials hadn’t counted on was the boilers exploding, which sent debris and shrapnel shooting through the air.
"On the photographer's stand, situated not more than 100 feet from the track... were grouped the photographers, the reporters of the News and several railroad officials... One of the photographers, Mr. Dean of Waco, will lose one of his eyes as a result of a sudden meeting with a small piece of flying steel.
"All that remained of the two engines and twelve cars was a smoking mass of fractured metal and kindling wood, except one car on the rear of each train, which had been left untouched. The engines had both been completely telescoped, and contrary to experience in such cases, instead of rising in the air from the force of the blow, were just flattened out. There was nothing about the cars big enough to save except pieces of wood, which were eagerly seized upon and carried home as souvenirs."
Ah, local news from the 19th century. Great story-tellers, the lot of them.
The aftermath of the Crash at Crush
The crash certainly made its way into the history books, though not entirely for the reasons George Crush from the MK&T was hoping for. Three people died and six were injured, and the rail company had claims to settle from the incident for a while after the crash.
In the end, the stunt did end up increasing business for MK&T, despite the gruesome outcome. George Crush ended up working for the company for a total of 57 years
You can actually see the very place where “Crush” was established so long ago, though there is little evidence aside from a commemorative plaque remaining there to tell the story. It’s definitely a significant part of Texas’ rail history, though, and famed ragtime composer and Texas native Scott Joplin commemorated the event by composing “The Great Crush Collision March” that same year.
So, there you have it. The Crash at Crush is a textbook example of some early PR and marketing tactics that should probably not be repeated, though it certainly drew plenty of people from all over the state to unite in morbid fascination.
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Featured photo courtesy Pixabay/sjb3949
Colleen Ford is a South African who now lives on Oahu in Hawai'i. She loves to travel, camp, spearfish and hike. She's also part of a super cool canoe club and is pretty decent at it. Colleen enjoys Star Wars and also not being cold ever.
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