A Dark Morning in Lambert Lake

In August 1945, according to the Maine Central Employees Magazine, the 56 miles of jointly operated Maine Central and Canadian Pacific rail line between Vanceboro and Mattawamkeag was maybe the hottest single track in America. Twenty-four or more trains a day traveled from Vanceboro to Mattawamkeag and on to Megantic, Quebec. That’s a train every hour – at least. On March 15^th of that year “32 trains were run, including eight passenger trains and 24 freight trains.”¹ Each Canadian Pacific freight heading east toward Vanceboro averaged 40 cars. Maine Central running west averaged 69.

The freight trains were heavy and traveled steep grades through all kinds of weather. This meant double heading or using two locomotives at the front of the train, each operated by its own crew. The men were experienced, the track well cared for and though accidents were rare, they sometimes happened and with devastating effects. The accident in Lambert Lake was especially tragic.

It was December 12, 1950 and Canadian Pacific train #951 was hauling general merchandise west from McAdam to Brownville Junction. It had been raining for days, so much so that a Penobscot River rise at Mattawamkeag halted travel on the Boston-Halifax, Nova Scotia line.²

Danny McCracken of McAdam recalls the horrific early morning scene as it unfolded:

“December 12th was very dark and wet when shortly after 6:15 am the shop whistle with a series of long blasts alerted McAdam that there had been a wreck on the CPR. Immediately men rushed to work, those working alerted a train crew & made an engine ready to take the auxiliary to the scene. A local store keeper went to his store and got ready a list of foods to be picked up for the crew of carmen who would be away for a number of days. My Dad was contacted and directed to go to the scene of the wreck instead of his normal 8am operator’s job at the station. Train #951 with 2 steam engines, #2597 & #5166 had hit a track washout 3571 feet East of the Lambert Lake Station. The 3 men in 2597 suffered injuries, but the 2 men in 5166 were killed. The 2 engines and first 16 cars of the 34 car & 2 Vans (cabooses) derailed.”

The crash was the result of a series of unexpected and unprecedented events. According to the Interstate Commerce Commission Report, there was no initial cause for alarm.³ The engineer and the fireman of Extra 5332 East, an east-bound CP freight train that passed through about about an hour and a half earlier, said that it was raining hard but the engine rode smoothly. They noticed no water on the track nor anything unusual.

And everyone had done their jobs. “Because of the heavy rain, the track was being patrolled ahead of all passenger trains. The section foreman had inspected the track about 4pm the previous day and had assigned two employees to patrol the track during the night. One patrolman had inspected the track and observed conditions in the vicinity of the point of accident…2 hours 15 minutes before the derailment occurred. He examined both ditches and did not consider the flow of water to be excessive. At that time there were no indications of scouring and he saw no condition which he considered abnormal or dangerous.”⁴

The crash occurred at 5:15am. The Commission Report describes in detail what happened:

“As No, 951 was approaching the point where the accident occurred the speed was about 35 miles per hour. The brakes of this train, which were being controlled by the engineer of the first engine, had been tested and had functioned properly when used en route. The headlight of the first engine was lighted brightly. The engineer and the fireman of the first engine and the front brakeman were in the cab of the first engine and were maintaining a lookout ahead. The engineer and the fireman of the second engine were in the cab of that engine and the conductor and the flagman were in the caboose. The engineer of the first engine said that It was raining hard as the train approached signal 2464 and that water was running down the side of the cut with considerable force, a condition he had never before observed. He was watching the track closely and after the engine passed signal 2464, which indicated Proceed, he observed that the ballast had been washed from under the north end of the ties. He Immediately made an emergency application of the brakes and the speed was reduced to about 30 miles per hour when the derailment occurred.”⁵

The Waterville Morning Sentinel described it as a “spectacular derailment.” The engineer, fireman, and the brakemen in the first engine were injured when they jumped to safety. Engineer Joseph Doiron and fireman Colin M. McKay in the second engine, died at the scene. Both of Brownville Junction, Doiron was the father of four sons and a daughter, McKay the father of a young son.

After careful consideration, a veteran track supervisor determined that debris had formed a temporary dam across a ravine on the slope and when it broke the surge of water overflowed the dike and undermined the track structure. In the end, the Commission report concluded, the accident was caused by a washout.

Newspapers across the state reported the derailment, the tragic deaths, offered weather-related theories. They published photos of the crash aftermath, engines on their sides, the sheer force of a stop that piled freight cars one on top of the other like a falling row of dominos. But history is not only the description of events and their causes, not just the newsworthy facts. As important, or perhaps more so, history is the way such events land in communities, the way people remember and respond and care for one another in the moment.

Those living in Lambert Lake who awakened that cold rainy morning to the sound of car slamming into car after car, recall something deeper, more personal than what the papers report. They remember the faces of shocked, injured trainmen knocking on their doors in the early morning, recall parents taking the men in, calling out for help. They remember stories of the scene, the sadness of losing two men. They remember a storeowner opening his doors, readying and delivering food to those off to clear the line. As children, they recall walking from their homes the next day to look at the mangled wreck, thinking maybe for the first time in their lives how dangerous a job their father, uncle, cousin had and how fortunate they were to have them home and safe.

Because it is the culture of the area to hold memories of loss and sorrow in song, local balladeer Eldon Yeo of St. Croix captured the tragic event for posterity.

An official report is one thing, useful as an historic document, but Yeo’s song and the many local memories of that December morning paint a richer picture of a border community tied by rail and deep relationships, a close-up view of the care and concern people had for one another.

1. “‘Hottest’ Single Track in America?” Maine Central Employee Mag, Aug. 1945. ↩︎
2. Spectacular Derailment Kills 2 Trainmen. The Waterville Sentinel, Dec. 13, 1950. ↩︎
3. Interstate Commerce Commission, Washington, DC. Report no. 3381, Maine Central Railroad Company re Accident Near Lambert Lake, Maine on December 12, 1950. ↩︎
4. Lambert Lake Crash Report, p. 7. ↩︎
5. Lambert Lake Crash Report, p. 7. ↩︎