News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1884-02-14
ONE.ARMED MEN.
How n Station Agent Prevented a Disas
trOus Collision.


ga one-armed man for emergencies
every time" exclaimed an old railroad
official in the heat of an argument on
the prevention of collisions and other
accidents. 81 never knew one to fail in
time of danger. The loss of an arm
seems to increase their wits, and / can
name several instances of their display
of nerve and invention when other men
were of no use. Do you remember
Ross Marchman No? Well, I'll tell
you the kind of fellow he was, when he
worked under me on the Piedmont Air
Line road.
"There is, not far from the South
Carolina line. a small town called
Sewanee. 1t is several hours ride from
Atlanta, Georgia, and contains about
500 people. The telegraph operator at
the depot is station agent, express agent,
ticket agent, truckman and porter. In
fact, he runs the whole business, and
his is a responsible position. He often
works all day and all night, and it is a
strain to keep up with the work in the
busy season. Ross Marchman was tele-
graph operator and-so-forth at Sewanee.
He was about twenty-five years old, and
had lost his right arm. How in the
world he ever managed to perform his
multiplicity of duties is a mystery, but
he was never found wanting in any of
the qualifications necessary to a sue
cessful accomplishment of every task.
We all had confidence in Marchman.
One night in November, 1882, he was
sitting half asleep over his key, worn out
with fatigue, when he was aroused by
hearing himself called by the train-dis.
patcher. He answered and the following
order came over the wires 'Side-t track
No. II, north-bound, Sewanee, a. m.
Hold for extra No. 3, south-bound, 1-04
a. m There was nothing unusual in
the order. Marchman % KID it and
made the necessary preparations for flag
ging down No. II, which, being a
through-freight, did not stop at way
stations unless signalled to do so.
''The night was dark and stormy, and
the wind blew in gusts, driving the rain
into every crack and crevice. The track
from the north past the station had a
heavy down-grade, and it was the Gus
tom for engineers to blow long blast
on the whistle, when their trains crossed
the summit, some half a mile away. No.
II was on time, and when Marchman
heard the blast he took his lantern and
went out on the track. The headlight
rose over the summit like a full moon
climbing the hills, and flashed down the
rails. The rain came down in torrents,
the wind whistled past the corners of the
station with an ominous sound, the train
came laundering on. Marchman raised
his lantern and swung it across the track,
but before the signal could be given a
ftfui gust of wind put out the light.
The train was not two hundred yards of
and had not slackened its speed. There
was no time to get another lamp. 1t
was a moment of horror to the poor OPP
orator. No. 3, with its freight of pas
sengers, was coming just beyond the
town-the two trains would meet-col-
lision struction-death-al passed
before his mind like flash of lightning.
He felt the quivering of the ties beneath
his feet as he stood in the full glare of
the light now fearfully close. Suddenly
his hand sought his pocket; there was a
flash, sharp report of pistol, and a
bullet went crashing through the head
light. The lamp was extinguished, and
as the engine passed him, Marchman
threw his pistol into the cab window.
"Well, the train was stopped, and the
conductor coming forward to see what
was wrong, reached Marchman just in
time to receive his orders, when the lat
ter, overcome with the terrible strain.
fell to the ground. The train was run
into siding, and No. dashed by at
the rate of about forty miles an hour.
Not a passenger dreamed of what had
happened.
"Of course" continued the official,
eve remembered Marchman in a sub
stantial way. That one arm, though,
was the making of him.