A Switch Thrown in the Dark: The Plot to Wreck the Portland Train
Someone opened a Northern Pacific switch on a waterfront trestle just before the night express from Seattle came through — and a quick-thinking crew stopped a hundred passengers short of the deep water.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
A dastardly attempt to wreck the incoming train was made between 10:40 and 11:30 last night by throwing the switch on the Northern Pacific tracks near the depot — a piece of track that runs out over the water on a high trestle. Fortunately the switch engine, loaded with coal cars, reached the open switch first, bringing the engine and cars off the rails before the express came along.
The momentum of the heavy coal cars was enough to carry them about fifty feet ahead, and two of them left the rails. Engineer Smith and T. C. Mallory, the fireman, stuck to their post though theirs was a dangerous one, for had the engine swerved to one side it would have gone over into the water, which is fifteen feet deep there and would have caused the death of both men.
Engineer Smith knew that the Portland train was due, and, knowing that the train was due, at once sent his fireman to flag the passenger train. He brought it to a standstill within fifty feet of the switch. The switch engine had been drilling a train of coal cars. The engineer did not discover the open switch until he was right onto it; he immediately reversed his engine, but the thirty heavy coal cars could not be checked before he had gone some distance.
The incoming passenger train carried about 100 passengers, and had it been derailed at this point the loss of life would have been great.
The switch was turned after the train left this city for Portland at 10:20. As the freight train arrived at 11:30, the switch must have been turned between 10:20 and 11:30.
The place where the train was thrown off the rails is a high trestle which stands above the surface of the water about fifteen feet. On either side of the trestle there is water, which is filled with floating logs and other debris. Had a passenger train going at the usual speed been derailed at this point the cars would undoubtedly have been thrown into the water, and the loss of life would have been great. The fiend who threw the switch selected the place with the apparent intention of sacrificing both lives and property.
A trainman, talking about the matter, said he was satisfied that it was the work of strikers. "They have become sullen since the strike was ordered, because they cannot get back, and their actions have led me to suspect that trouble was brewing. We have to keep a sharp lookout for the next few weeks, as they are in a mood to commit almost any act of violence. This was one of the plainest attempts to wreck a train and to destroy both life and property that I have ever seen. The parties who committed the act should, if caught, be very severely dealt with," concluded the railroad man, as he put his arm through his lantern and walked up the track through the darkness.
“"They have become sullen since the strike was ordered... they are in a mood to commit almost any act of violence."”
In the summer of 1894 the Pullman boycott had turned America's rail yards into battlegrounds, and Seattle's own depot tracks became the stage for a suspected act of sabotage. The claim that strikers did it was asserted, not proved — a reminder of how quickly labor unrest was framed as criminal violence. Today, disputes over rail safety and worker grievance still play out along the same waterfront corridors.
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