Eastline Railroad
Eastline Station, McKinney
THE OLD EASTLINE
The (McKinney) Examiner, November 2, 1961
by Capt Roy F. Hall
Young readers of this column do not, of course, know anything of the old "Eastline" railroad that ran eastward out of McKinney up to 20 years ago. The abandoned station of this road still stands, on the north side of Louisiana Street, as you pass the S. P. tracks going east.
In 1870 the people of Jefferson, Texas, were faced with financial ruin when they learned that a railroad was being built northward from Galveston through North Texas. Jefferson had thrived due to its being the head of navigation on Red River, and the main distributing point for shipments going to northern Texas by freight wagons. They decided to do something, as the railroad rates would be a mere fraction of those charged by freighters. Goods could be sent to Galveston and up the railroad at such a reduced rate that the Jeffersonians saw the end of their rich and happy living.
It had always been a problem to finance railroad building. There had not been enough private capital to do this, and states were loath to help by issuing script or warrants. Later, some states, including Texas, aided the railroad projects by giving a prospective railroad 16 sections of land for every mile of road built. These roads were called "Land Grant" railroads. Free land ran out, however, _____ and the railroads had to be constructed by money raised elsewhere. This was done in various ways. Counties and cities put up bonuses to have the road come through, and bonds were floated by the railroad builders, which were sold as best they could. McKinney lost the Cotton Belt Railroad when she refused to put up $10000.00 to have them build through here. The road then went to the south, through Plano.
Faced with the ruin of their city, the big men of Jefferson secured a charter from the state to build a narrow gauge railroad from Jefferson to McKinney and north to Denison in 1870. Building got under way late in 1872 and the line reached Greenville in late 1876. The name of the road was the "Sherman, Shreveport & Southern." Having financial difficulties, the railroad charter was transferred to the Missouri, Kansas & Texas Railroad in 1881. In 1886 the line reached McKinney, but it still bore the name of the S. S. & S. Here it was promptly termed, "Eastline."
The Eastline never was a financial success. It took too long to build, was the main reason. Shippers had got accustomed to sending their goods to North Texas by way of the Houston & Texas Central -- which came through McKinney in 1872 -- and by the time the road was built from Jefferson this trade route was so firmly established that shippers would not change, even though the Eastline rates were much lower. The Eastline was in the hands of receivers several times, and finally was abandoned west of Greenville in 1941.
The road from McKinney to Farmersville was probably the worst part of the whole line especially through the valleys of Sister Grove and Pilot Creeks. Here the rails were laid without any roadbed to speak of an during wet weather two miles or more of the rails were under water. This did not stop the trains but it slowed them, as many times the cars would get of the rails and the men would have to labor in knee-deep water to re-rail them. Many so-called funny tales originated with passengers on the Eastline. One time this writer was coming to McKinney with his father from Princeton on the Eastline with several other McKinney people. Down in Sister Grove bottom the coach suddenly started riding easier-- if this were possible on the Eastline. Somebody remarked how much smoother the train felt and said he wondered why. Another smart alec said, "Why, don't you know the road? She rides easier when she gets off on the crossties."
In less than a hundred yards the slow-moving train stopped suddenly. The conductor came in from the other car and somebody asked him the trouble. He said the front trucks of the engine were on the ties, and would take an hour to get her back on the rails. A drummer, being facetious as all drummers were in those days, said, "What do you fire that engine with -- bois d'arc apples?"
The conductor answered in the same funny vein and said that the engine ate bois d'arc apples or anything. The drummer then said, "Well, I wish you would feed them to her, and not make her get off in the woods and hunt for herself." Several others took up the good-natured insults and the conductor finally got mad. "If you fellows don't like the way this railroad is run, you can get off and walk. "No," the drummer said. "O can't do that. My wife is not expecting me before this train is due at ten tonight, and I don't want to wait around until she comes home."
Livestock bothered the trainmen on the Eastline. Stock ran out in those days and a railroad seemed to attract them like flies around a sugar barrel. Stock got so used to the passage of trains that the warning whistle of the locomotive often failed to scare them off the roadbed. In the case of the Eastline this envolved no cow or horse and mule killings, for the train ran so slowly that the cowcatcher would many times actually bump a slow-moving cow to get her off the track.
The Eastline was changed to standard gauge shortly after it arrived in McKinney, and it was connected by a switch to the H. & T. C. This switch or spur is still there, partly in use now by the S. P. to go down to the cotton-oil mill. The main track of the Eastline ran just on the east side of the present building that was then used as a depot, or station. Just north, across Virginia Street, was the old turntable, used to turn the small engines around, so that they could make the return trip eastward.
The turntable was of huge wooden beams and balanced in the center by four wheels running on a circular track. The engine and tender ere run up on it and the table turned by several men pushing on handles extending out from each end of the table. Usually four men could turn it without too much trouble, though they were ordinarily assisted by several small boys of the town. It was the duty of the freight agent at the depot to keep the wheels well greased in order to have the table revolve easily. The agent did not always fulfill this duty, which gave rise to oaths and blasphemy that would singe one's hair.
One evening I was in town and when in town I always went to the depot to watch the switch engine operate. McKinney had a switch engine all the time when railroads were at their height. The Eastline engine, not much larger than a teapot, to use a popular refrain, was being run up on the turntable. I went over to help.
Several men and a few boys pushed the table about half way around with ease when it ground to a stop. No amount of pushing and prying would move it and the air became hazy with words directed toward the freight agent. He had failed to greased the wheel axles after the train the night before and the turntable was tuck tight. Everything was tried, crowbars, pry poles, and even backing the engine a few feet and running it forward again. All failed. The turntable felt as if it were chained down.
After everything was tried, the railroad men decided to get a team of mules to pull the table around. This was apparently all pre-arranged, for a man was sent to see Kelly Worsham, the city's street foreman, who had a city barn about where the marble yard is now on Virginia Street, east of the old post office. After a while Kelly came down with four mules and a colored man driver. Trouble was experienced from the first. The mules were afraid of the engine, as was all stock at the time, and could not be driven close enough to hook onto the turntable. Kelly solved this one. He had the mules blindfolded. They were finally hitched, after much cussing and brow beating, to the end of the turntable. Hitched in tandem; two in front; two behind.
Kelly told the engineer to give him a signal when he wanted to stop, as the mules were scared and would be hard to handle. After a trial tug or two the mules settled own and the turntable began slowly to move. It came on around, faster and faster, and the engineer grabbed the cord and let out a sharp "toot" of the whistle, as a signal for Kelly to let up.
All heck broke loose. The mules went into the air, kicking, snorting and squealing-- the only time I ever heard a mule squeal. Some went to one side, some to the other, and in a second the whole team was in a hopeless tangle or harness, yelling colored man and swearing Kelly Worsham. Some of the mules turned completely around, facing the turntable, pulling the harness up behind their ears and some were bucking and kicking.
In some way, Kelly got the hitch loose from the turntable and the whole mess thrashed and tore away toward the H. & T. C. tracks. With them went the colored man, still holding the four reins which, by now were utterly useless due to the different way they were attached to the mules. Kelly followed, making the air blue, for Kelly was possibly the champion cusser of the city.
From the city barn the men there had seen the rucus and several now came running down to aid with the mules. The animals were hard to placate. With the blindfolds on their eyes they would not allow anyone to come within ten feet of them. Finally they got the mules under control, and when they departed for the barn, Kelly stood on the H. &. T. C. right-of-way and called the turn-table men everything he knew that was bad, but mostly commenting on the possibility that their ancestors and foreparents were four legged and had tails.
The railroad men said nothing. After the turntable was pushed in into place one of them meekly observed, "He needn't get so hot under the collar. He told Joe up there to give him the signal."
The old Eastline, which served North Texas east and west for three-quarters of a century is gone. IN 1941, knowing that the line out of McKinney was to be discontinued I went down to find out when. A freight train was standing on the track, ready to leave. I asked the engineer if he knew when the line was going out of business. "This is it," he said. "This is the last train out."
I asked how long they were remaining before pulling out, that I wanted to go home and get my camera for a picture. He asked how long that would take and when I told him possibly ten minutes, he consulted with the conductor and told me to go ahead, they would wait for me. I got the photo and took the names of the trainmen, which I lost somehow. If any of them read this let me know and I will send them a copy of the picture of the last Eastline train out of McKinney.
The (McKinney) Examiner, November 2, 1961
by Capt Roy F. Hall
Young readers of this column do not, of course, know anything of the old "Eastline" railroad that ran eastward out of McKinney up to 20 years ago. The abandoned station of this road still stands, on the north side of Louisiana Street, as you pass the S. P. tracks going east.
In 1870 the people of Jefferson, Texas, were faced with financial ruin when they learned that a railroad was being built northward from Galveston through North Texas. Jefferson had thrived due to its being the head of navigation on Red River, and the main distributing point for shipments going to northern Texas by freight wagons. They decided to do something, as the railroad rates would be a mere fraction of those charged by freighters. Goods could be sent to Galveston and up the railroad at such a reduced rate that the Jeffersonians saw the end of their rich and happy living.
It had always been a problem to finance railroad building. There had not been enough private capital to do this, and states were loath to help by issuing script or warrants. Later, some states, including Texas, aided the railroad projects by giving a prospective railroad 16 sections of land for every mile of road built. These roads were called "Land Grant" railroads. Free land ran out, however, _____ and the railroads had to be constructed by money raised elsewhere. This was done in various ways. Counties and cities put up bonuses to have the road come through, and bonds were floated by the railroad builders, which were sold as best they could. McKinney lost the Cotton Belt Railroad when she refused to put up $10000.00 to have them build through here. The road then went to the south, through Plano.
Faced with the ruin of their city, the big men of Jefferson secured a charter from the state to build a narrow gauge railroad from Jefferson to McKinney and north to Denison in 1870. Building got under way late in 1872 and the line reached Greenville in late 1876. The name of the road was the "Sherman, Shreveport & Southern." Having financial difficulties, the railroad charter was transferred to the Missouri, Kansas & Texas Railroad in 1881. In 1886 the line reached McKinney, but it still bore the name of the S. S. & S. Here it was promptly termed, "Eastline."
The Eastline never was a financial success. It took too long to build, was the main reason. Shippers had got accustomed to sending their goods to North Texas by way of the Houston & Texas Central -- which came through McKinney in 1872 -- and by the time the road was built from Jefferson this trade route was so firmly established that shippers would not change, even though the Eastline rates were much lower. The Eastline was in the hands of receivers several times, and finally was abandoned west of Greenville in 1941.
The road from McKinney to Farmersville was probably the worst part of the whole line especially through the valleys of Sister Grove and Pilot Creeks. Here the rails were laid without any roadbed to speak of an during wet weather two miles or more of the rails were under water. This did not stop the trains but it slowed them, as many times the cars would get of the rails and the men would have to labor in knee-deep water to re-rail them. Many so-called funny tales originated with passengers on the Eastline. One time this writer was coming to McKinney with his father from Princeton on the Eastline with several other McKinney people. Down in Sister Grove bottom the coach suddenly started riding easier-- if this were possible on the Eastline. Somebody remarked how much smoother the train felt and said he wondered why. Another smart alec said, "Why, don't you know the road? She rides easier when she gets off on the crossties."
In less than a hundred yards the slow-moving train stopped suddenly. The conductor came in from the other car and somebody asked him the trouble. He said the front trucks of the engine were on the ties, and would take an hour to get her back on the rails. A drummer, being facetious as all drummers were in those days, said, "What do you fire that engine with -- bois d'arc apples?"
The conductor answered in the same funny vein and said that the engine ate bois d'arc apples or anything. The drummer then said, "Well, I wish you would feed them to her, and not make her get off in the woods and hunt for herself." Several others took up the good-natured insults and the conductor finally got mad. "If you fellows don't like the way this railroad is run, you can get off and walk. "No," the drummer said. "O can't do that. My wife is not expecting me before this train is due at ten tonight, and I don't want to wait around until she comes home."
Livestock bothered the trainmen on the Eastline. Stock ran out in those days and a railroad seemed to attract them like flies around a sugar barrel. Stock got so used to the passage of trains that the warning whistle of the locomotive often failed to scare them off the roadbed. In the case of the Eastline this envolved no cow or horse and mule killings, for the train ran so slowly that the cowcatcher would many times actually bump a slow-moving cow to get her off the track.
The Eastline was changed to standard gauge shortly after it arrived in McKinney, and it was connected by a switch to the H. & T. C. This switch or spur is still there, partly in use now by the S. P. to go down to the cotton-oil mill. The main track of the Eastline ran just on the east side of the present building that was then used as a depot, or station. Just north, across Virginia Street, was the old turntable, used to turn the small engines around, so that they could make the return trip eastward.
The turntable was of huge wooden beams and balanced in the center by four wheels running on a circular track. The engine and tender ere run up on it and the table turned by several men pushing on handles extending out from each end of the table. Usually four men could turn it without too much trouble, though they were ordinarily assisted by several small boys of the town. It was the duty of the freight agent at the depot to keep the wheels well greased in order to have the table revolve easily. The agent did not always fulfill this duty, which gave rise to oaths and blasphemy that would singe one's hair.
One evening I was in town and when in town I always went to the depot to watch the switch engine operate. McKinney had a switch engine all the time when railroads were at their height. The Eastline engine, not much larger than a teapot, to use a popular refrain, was being run up on the turntable. I went over to help.
Several men and a few boys pushed the table about half way around with ease when it ground to a stop. No amount of pushing and prying would move it and the air became hazy with words directed toward the freight agent. He had failed to greased the wheel axles after the train the night before and the turntable was tuck tight. Everything was tried, crowbars, pry poles, and even backing the engine a few feet and running it forward again. All failed. The turntable felt as if it were chained down.
After everything was tried, the railroad men decided to get a team of mules to pull the table around. This was apparently all pre-arranged, for a man was sent to see Kelly Worsham, the city's street foreman, who had a city barn about where the marble yard is now on Virginia Street, east of the old post office. After a while Kelly came down with four mules and a colored man driver. Trouble was experienced from the first. The mules were afraid of the engine, as was all stock at the time, and could not be driven close enough to hook onto the turntable. Kelly solved this one. He had the mules blindfolded. They were finally hitched, after much cussing and brow beating, to the end of the turntable. Hitched in tandem; two in front; two behind.
Kelly told the engineer to give him a signal when he wanted to stop, as the mules were scared and would be hard to handle. After a trial tug or two the mules settled own and the turntable began slowly to move. It came on around, faster and faster, and the engineer grabbed the cord and let out a sharp "toot" of the whistle, as a signal for Kelly to let up.
All heck broke loose. The mules went into the air, kicking, snorting and squealing-- the only time I ever heard a mule squeal. Some went to one side, some to the other, and in a second the whole team was in a hopeless tangle or harness, yelling colored man and swearing Kelly Worsham. Some of the mules turned completely around, facing the turntable, pulling the harness up behind their ears and some were bucking and kicking.
In some way, Kelly got the hitch loose from the turntable and the whole mess thrashed and tore away toward the H. & T. C. tracks. With them went the colored man, still holding the four reins which, by now were utterly useless due to the different way they were attached to the mules. Kelly followed, making the air blue, for Kelly was possibly the champion cusser of the city.
From the city barn the men there had seen the rucus and several now came running down to aid with the mules. The animals were hard to placate. With the blindfolds on their eyes they would not allow anyone to come within ten feet of them. Finally they got the mules under control, and when they departed for the barn, Kelly stood on the H. &. T. C. right-of-way and called the turn-table men everything he knew that was bad, but mostly commenting on the possibility that their ancestors and foreparents were four legged and had tails.
The railroad men said nothing. After the turntable was pushed in into place one of them meekly observed, "He needn't get so hot under the collar. He told Joe up there to give him the signal."
The old Eastline, which served North Texas east and west for three-quarters of a century is gone. IN 1941, knowing that the line out of McKinney was to be discontinued I went down to find out when. A freight train was standing on the track, ready to leave. I asked the engineer if he knew when the line was going out of business. "This is it," he said. "This is the last train out."
I asked how long they were remaining before pulling out, that I wanted to go home and get my camera for a picture. He asked how long that would take and when I told him possibly ten minutes, he consulted with the conductor and told me to go ahead, they would wait for me. I got the photo and took the names of the trainmen, which I lost somehow. If any of them read this let me know and I will send them a copy of the picture of the last Eastline train out of McKinney.
