Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1904-09-17
RIDE ON THE FAST MAIL.
In the Cab between Chicago, St
Paul and Minneapolis.

1t is significant that the one train
which makes the Chicago-St. Paul
run in ten hours, carries no pas
sengers.
To ride on it is a privilege &C
quired by few, Yet a journey on
this train, which carries none but
government mail clerks and it's
crew, is an experience, especially
if the Journey be made on the fire
mans side" of the huge locomotive
which pulls it. 1t is revelation Of
what fast passenger service means
and a liberal education in apprecia-
ton of the cool nerve and absolute
competency of the men who run
fast trains.
The fast mail over the Chicago,
Milwaukee and ST. Paul Railway
leaves Chicago every night Of the
year with from twenty to fifty tons
of mail aboard and reaches ST. Paul
every morning with it's burden Of
letters and packages in time for
transfer to other trains to the
Pacific coast to connect with the
mail boats, north into the Dominion,
east and west into adjoining states
and radiating over a dozen lines OF
railway into every nook and Granny
of the Northwest.
If one asks why the fast mail
carries no passengershe is answered
that there are other trains which
do that work. Another reason is
apparent after journey on the
head end" with the two cinder-
marked and grease-smudged gods
of the machine that pulls it.
Ten hour service means speed.
On glorious night not long ago
the fast mail pulled out of Milwau-
kee on time, swinging along at an
easy gait through the maze of
green, white and red switchlights
until the last tall semaphore arm
signaled all clear" then Engineer
Sullivan's long right arm shot for
ward through the dark suddenly,
the boarse syncopation of the ex-
haust changed suddenly to long
wailing roar, and the tremendous
locomotive seemed to timber up in
every joint as she swung forward
into the night.
He trun her in compound" the
fireman, Woodland explained. His
father in his early life had APP
prent iced him to a jeweler. He
had a back like an OK and an arm
like an oak tree.
Mile posts began to fade in regular
succession and telegraph poles flew
by so fast it was hardly possible to
count. The track ahead took on
an uncanny grayish haze, but the
speed constantly increased. The
big locomotive slowed down for
nothing. She took sharp curves
like a race horse and lunged into
the long tangents like singed cat.
Engineer Sullivan didn't talk much.
He was pretty busy watching the
track. When he did talk it was to
the point.
''Forty.five miles out of Milwau-
kee, including the trip through the
yards and suburbs, where we had
to slow down, in forty-six minutes,
he said. @
He dropped to the ground and oiled
up almost on the run. Two min
utes elapsed, the big machine was
ready to go again, but the conductor
appeared out of the gloom and re-
marked that a journal on mail
car had run hot.
Hot journals are not serious in
themselves, but six minutes clipped
from the schedule of a train which
must run while in motion at a rate
of slightly more than SIS miles an
hour for 408 miles, is very i'm
portant matter. Engineer Sullivan
swore softly and dropped his wrath
in copious applications of more oil
to the big engines stufing boxes.
Then he mounted the towering cab
again and the race was on the
second time.
Woodland grinned.
well run like pup with a tin
can tied to his tail now," he con-
fided.
We did. Mile posts and telegraph
poles became one long procession,
with scarcely perceptible distances
between them. The air rushed
through the open cab windows like
a cyclone, and the mail cars trail
ing along behind, rocked and
swung on their springs like SO
many drunken men. The pace was
tremendous.
Ones sensations were much like