Twin Tunnels: ‘Once Upon A Time There Were Two’ By BOBBY ANDERSON The question is often asked of the community: why is it called Twin Tunnels when there is only one tunnel? The answer is as simple as the beginning of an old fairy tale: Once upon a time there were two tunnels —hence the name Twin Tunnels. Today there is little evidence that a second tunnel on the old Louisville & Nashville Railroad pierced the high hill between Belton and Penrod — a hill now commonly called Twin Tunnels Hill. One of the tunnels is still there, still intact even after more than an hundred years of withstanding the vibrations of the many coal and passenger trains which plied the railroad, and the weather which has beaten at the tunnel’s structure, but has yet conquered it. And there is evidence of a second tunnel a few hundred yards to the north — but that evidence is virtually hidden by the thick overgrowth which sometime resembles a rain forest. This overgrowth had remained practically undisturbed over the past one hundred years until the timber was recently cut. Now fallen tree tops add to the maze one must conquer to find the old tunnel remains — tree tops which almost cover the old wagon road bed which once also traversed the area. The Tunnel Remembered The second tunnel, or Big Twin Tunnel at Twin Tunnels is recalled by at least two long-time residents of the area, who retell old family stories about the second tunnel and the double tragedy which accented the news then — but is now all but forgotten — perhaps never even known by the most of the present-day residents. Both Paul Mohon of the Union Ridge (Twin Tunnels) area and Ed Smith of Penrod recall stories told to them by their parents and grandparents, both of which were involved to some degree with the railroad operations during that period. Setting the Time Paul Mohon recalls many of the details of the incident which he believes occurred before World War I. His uncle, Les Mohon was one of those instrumental in removing the debris from the railroad when the tunnel caved in. Mohon sets the period at sometime around 1912. He recalls the tragic story of how more than seventy persons lost their life as an indirect result of the tunnel tragedy. Smith sets the time at around or shortly before 1900. He marks the time in his family history in this manner. His grandmother divorced John J. (Bottom John) Smith shortly before 1900. The tunnel fall-in, he recalls, occurred after the divorce, a fact which is borne out in court records. The actual date of the tunnel’s falling in was on July 8, 1901, according to a deed recorded in the clerk’s clerk’s office in Greenville. The deed made by John J. Smith on the 10th day of July, 1901, gave the Owensboro and Nashville Railway Company the right to used a certain tract of land for the purpose of cleaning up the debris from the fallen tunnel and to lay a temporary rail track around the site to be used until the tunnel debris was cleaned up. The deed stated the land to be where said Big Twin Tunnel formerly stood before it was burned and fell in on July 8, 1901. Ed Smith recalls it in this manner. After his grandmother left John J. Smith, taking their children with her, she relocated in Arkansas for a short while. Two of her older boys and a son-in-law were working for the railroad in some capacity at the time she departed, but did not work for the railroad after that. He said according to family tradition, the tunnel fell in shortly following this family event. Another measure of the time perhaps comes from old photographs now owned by Homer T. Smith Jr. of Plantation, Florida, a cousin of Ed Smith and a grandson of Bottom John Smith. These photos, one showing the railroad work car with members of his family in the foreground, and the other, a steam shovel supposedly helping remove fallen debris. The date of one of the photos can be set as the mid-1890s because of one child shown in the photo. The child, Annie Hardison, was the daughter of Bob and Rosie Smith Hardison. Annie was born in 1892 and died in 1899. She appeared to be about two years old at the time of the photograph, seemingly setting the time the photo was taken as about 1894-95. H. T. Smith believes that the Hardisons, his uncle and aunt, were living in the railroad work car at the time this photo was taken. The second photo shows men in winter wear, perhaps clearing the debris of the tunnel in the winter months following the tragedy. Some Buried Nearby Many of those who died there are buried just a few hundred feet away at the workers’ camp on property now owned by Earle (Bob) and Ara Nell King. Others were taken to other cemeteries for burial —but none were returned to their native Illinois because of laws then forbidding the passage of bodies across state lines — bodies which had been taken in the deadly plague of typhoid or small pox from which they all died. The Tunnel’s History Before revealing the details of the tunnel’s collapse and the deaths of the crew removing the fallen debris, it would be well to recreate at little of the history of the railroad and the tunnel. While the Elizabethtown & Paducah railroad was crossing Muhlenberg County east to west in the 1870s, a second railroad, the Louisville & Nashville, was traversing the county, north to south. The L&N branch, known as the Owensboro & Russellville line and later, the Owensboro & Nashville was being completed from Owensboro to Central City (then known as Owensborough Junction) in 1872. This line complete, work began on the extension of the line to Russellville, which was completed in 1882. In building the line, the construction crew found no way to get around the high elevation between Belton and Penrod except by a deep cut or a tunnel. Either was prohibitive because modern construction equipment was not available at that time. All work was done by hand, utilizing mules and horses and equipment they could draw, including wagons, slip scrapers and plows. Blasting away the rocks in the cut which started just south of what is known today as Dead Man’s Curve, was no problem. But often as many as three teams of mules (six animals) were used to snake away one large rock which had been blasted down. Two Tunnels Feasible At two points, the highest peaks of the hill, it was deemed more feasible to tunnel under the hill rather than blast and haul away all the rock debris. Two tunnels were constructed. The southern most is approximately two hundred feet long and still stands. The northern tunnel, or Big Twin Tunnel was more than twice as long as the southern one. With great effort the holes were made through the hill large enough to allow train passage after the tracks were laid. But giant rocks loosened by blasting and by the work of the construction crew, were a hazard to the trains passing through, so it was decided to build supports for the tunnels to shore up the loose rock — much like miners were doing in timbering their mine openings. From 1882 to the time the tunnel collapsed, this worked well. There were only isolated incidents of falling rock, and those mainly along the cut and not inside the tunnels. Sparks Flew However with the grades steep, the firemen were prodded by the engineers to produce more steam. Thus, the hotter fires under the steam boilers became more of a threat to the timbers in the tunnel which were now dry and seasoned. Sparks literally flew. A train passing through, emitted sparks, igniting the wooden timbers and props and the tunnel burned. The wooden structure inside the tunnel was consumed by the fire and the heat weakened the rock formation. Within a matter of a short time the entire tunnel collapsed. This caused railroad traffic to come to a complete halt between Owensboro and Russellville. No passenger service. No freight service. No coal trains — and thus little or no work for many of the mines and miners along the L&N which were served by the south-bound traffic and the Nashville market. Again, Smith recalls other stories about the tunnel’s collapse. Seems like about every October the tunnel would catch fire, and local men were hired to rebuild the woodwork, Smith said. These boys would get a job every year working to repair the tunnel, and the next October it would catch fire again. Folks got to wondering if these fellows in need of work, weren’t setting the fire themselves. The wording in the deed from Smith to the railroad might lead one to wonder. The deed stated, the tunnel was burned, leading one to speculate that the railroad believed the same. The Second Tragedy It was not long before the railroad officials hit upon a plan to get the track back in operation. It is here that Paul Mohon picks up memory of the event. Dad (Willis Mohon) had just moved down here when it happened, he recalled. The fire burned all the wood out of the tunnel and it all fell in, completely blocking the tracks. Mohon recalled hearing the story of how the railroad brought in work cars and a large contingent of black workers from Illinois to clean the track. The workers apparently slept in the work cars which were brought in by the company, but they built a cook shack out there on the hill where the men ate, and even drilled a well to provide water for the workers, Mohon related as he recalled the stories his family had told. Today, chimney rocks are still visible where the shack stood, and recently King pointed out the rocks and the well casing, which is still intact, except that it is now bent toward the ground by fallen trees. That water was must have been bad, Mohon recalled, because more than seventy men, including their white foremen, died with typhoid fever in just a short time. King also was able to find at least one of the graves, marked by chiseled sandstone, and recalls that in time he had seen as many as three of the graves marked by sand stone. But Mohon recalls vividly of of seeing as many as 25 graves there marked by rows of sand rocks where some of the men were buried. And others he said, were taken to different areas for burial, though he did not know the location. They didn’t take any of them back to Illinois, though I don’t think, he said in recalling what his family had told him about the typhoid epidemic which hit the work camp. He did remember how many had died. Some say 71, and some say 73, he said, but it was more than 70. Smith recollection of the tragedy is that it was caused either by small pox or chicken pox. He said that when the epidemic hit, many of the workers were moved to another house located near what today is the Mud River Union community. The move failed to halt the spread of the epidemic and many more died in that location. He also recalled that in those days railroad terminology was somewhat different than today. For instance, according to Smith, a flat car today would have been called a platform car in the period when the tunnel collapsed. A caboose was known as a cabin car. The Clean Up The loss of their work crew presented another plight to the railroad. They needed to get traffic on the line rolling. Anyone who didn’t want to farm that summer could get a job with the railroad scooping out the tunnel, Mohon said. He added that many, many men in the area with their teams, slip scrapers and wagons worked for the L&N to get the road open. His uncle Les Mohon was one of them. At first the crew built a hastily constructed wagon road around the caved-in tunnel. On this, passengers and freight were transported around the cave in. The railroad would run a train from Owensboro to the fallen tunnel, transport its passengers and freight by wagon around the closed section of the track and then send them on to Russellville on a train which waited on the other side. Next the railroad engineers hit on a plan to lay a temporary track around the fallen tunnel to allow the locomotive and cars to by-pass the old tunnel area. A track was laid along the wagon road several hundred yards and connected to the track on either end of the tunnel. This too is proven by the wording in the deed by Smith, which states that some of the assigned land, 30 feet wide, is to be used to construct a temporary track around said tunnel to connect the main track south of said tunnel to the main track north of said tunnel. They kept two engines here, Mohon recalled, one to pull the train, one to push it, because they had such a steep grade on the temporary track. Then one locomotive would tow it on to the terminal while the other waited to help the next train through, Mohon noted. In the meantime, the massive work crew of local farmers, farm hands, idle miners and others worked to clear the tunnel’s fallen debris. When this was done, the tracks were restored and traffic again moved on the line. After this, the railroad company poured concrete walls and a ceiling in the remaining tunnel to prevent the recurrence of the incident which befell the Big Twin Tunnel. The Site Revisited Recently Bob King, who now owns the land (once owned by David Ulysses Poole and before that, Bottom John Smith), took this writer to the site of the former tunnel, the auxiliary road around it and to the site of the cook camp and the well. The old wagon road and temporary bed for the auxiliary rails are still visible if one know for what he are looking. The chimney rocks remain at the cook camp and as stated, the well pipe is there, though bent by falling trees. From Highway 431, one can see the piles of rock debris which were removed from the fallen tunnel by the workers. Seeing the actual site of the old tunnel is more difficult. The tunnel site is visible, but once again, only if one knows for what he is looking. Rocks crop out above the abandoned old railroad bed, no longer in use except by loggers and four-wheelers. They detail the area where a tunnel once stood — a tunnel, which with its counterpart a few hundred yards away, gave name to a community some 115 years ago.
Posted on: Thu, 22 May 2014 02:15:55 +0000
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