Railroad Safety Quotes

In 1848, the twenty-five-year-old Gage was working on a railroad bed when he was distracted by some activity behind him. As he turned his head, the large rod he was using to pack powder explosives struck a rock, caused a spark and the powder exploded. The rod flew up through his jaw, traveled behind his eye, made its way through the left-hand side of his brain and shot out the other side. Despite his somewhat miraculous survival, Gage was never the same again. The once jovial, kind young man became aggressive, rude and prone to swearing at the most inappropriate times. As a toddler, Alonzo Clemons also suffered a traumatic head injury, after falling onto the bathroom floor. Left with severe learning difficulties and a low IQ, he was unable to read or write. Yet from that day on he showed an incredible ability to sculpt. He would use whatever materials he could get his hands on—Play-Doh, soap, tar—to mold a perfect image of any animal after the briefest of glances. His condition was diagnosed as acquired savant syndrome, a rare and complex disorder in which damage to the brain appears to increase people’s talent for art, memory or music. SM, as she is known to the scientific world, has been held at gunpoint and twice threatened with a knife. Yet she has never experienced an ounce of fear. In fact, she is physically incapable of such emotion. An unusual condition called Urbach-Wiethe disease has slowly calcified her amygdalae, two almond-shaped structures deep in the center of the brain that are responsible for the human fear response. Without fear, her innate curiosity sees her approach poisonous spiders without a second’s thought. She talks to muggers with little regard for her own safety. When she comes across deadly snakes in her garden, she picks them up and throws them away.

The assistant manager had exhausted his power of initiative by volunteering to call her. The others volunteered nothing. The signal engineer was a college-boyish man in his thirties, who kept saying aggressively, “But this has never happened before, Miss Taggart! The interlocker has never failed. It’s not supposed to fail. We know our jobs, we can take care of it as well as anybody can—but not if it breaks down when it’s not supposed to!” She could not tell whether the dispatcher, an elderly man with years of railroad work behind him, still retained his intelligence but chose to hide it, or whether months of suppressing it had choked it for good, granting him the safety of stagnation.

Particularly galling was the way the Homestead Act was abused. Passed during the Civil War, it was supposed to make a reality out of Lincoln’s version of the free labor, free soil dream. But fewer than half a million people actually set up viable farms over nearly half a century. Most public lands were taken over by the railroads, thanks to the government’s beneficent land-grant policy (another form of primitive accumulation); by land speculators backed by eastern bankers, who sometimes hired pretend “homesteaders” in acts of outright fraud; or by giant cattle ranches and timber companies and the like who worked hand in glove with government land agents. As early as 1862 two-thirds of Iowa (or ten million acres) was owned by speculators. Railroads closed off one-third of Kansas to homesteading and that was the best land available. Mushrooming cities back east became, in a kind of historical inversion, the safety valve for overpopulated areas in the west. At least the city held out the prospect of remunerative wage labor if no longer a life of propertied independence. Few city workers had the capital to migrate west anyway; when one Pennsylvania legislator suggested that the state subsidize such moves, he was denounced as “the Pennsylvania Communist” for his trouble. During the last land boom of the nineteenth century (from about 1883 to 1887), 16 million acres underwent that conversion every year. Railroads doubled down by selling off or mortgaging portions of the public domain they had just been gifted to finance construction or to speculate with. But land-grant roads were built at costs 100 percent greater than warranted and badly built at that, needing to be rebuilt just fifteen years later.

At railroad and bus stations across the country, which includes subways, checkpoints are set-up as you come into the station. Like the airports, the TSA will screen all travelers, and if necessary, frisk a traveler if TSA finds anything suspicious. Train and bus schedules, like airline schedules, will necessarily be delayed as travelers are screened. Remember, your safety is of paramount importance to your government as we do not want to see our fellow Americans killed by more random acts of terrorism.

What was it with these algebra trains? Was the person who made up problems a railroad buff? Or was there something far more sinister going on? Was he delivering messages about railroad safety? Or did he have a sick desire to witness a crash?

One story was about a deaf man who was driving in the country, when safety bars were lowered across the road at a railroad crossing. The train passed, but the bars weren’t raised. Finally, the man went to the stationmaster and wrote him a note: “Please but.” That’s the punch line. The joke is that the sign for “but” is the index fingers crossed and then opening up, just the way the bars protecting train tracks do.

Oliver W. Addison attended Palmer College and Trident Technical College in Charleston and studied accounting, industrial health and safety, and automobile mechanics. In 2006 he was awarded the Doctor of Humane Letters by the Medical University of South Carolina. He worked for Norfolk Southern Railroad for a total of 28 years, 12 of them as a switchman and conductor and 16 as General Yard Master. He was awarded for having the safest terminal on the railroad in its size category and received accolades for on-time service for the industry. Mr. Addison has been a leader in Union Heights for 38 years and served on the Community Council for over 20 years. He recently received a commendation from the Medical University of South Carolina for his work in bringing a health clinic to the Union Heights community and developing programs for youth. Mr. Addison served on the Charleston County School Board for 8 years and was the board's chair for 1995-1996 and 2001-2002. For his work on the school board, he received a high-profile award from the Post and Courier newspaper.

At this point the alert investor should ask, “How dependable are tests of safety that are measured by past and present performance, in view of the fact that payment of interest and principal depends upon what the future will bring forth?” The answer can be founded only on experience. Investment history shows that bonds and preferred stocks that have met stringent tests of safety, based on the past, have in the great majority of cases been able to face the vicissitudes of the future successfully. This has been strikingly demonstrated in the major field of railroad bonds—a field that has been marked by a calamitous frequency of bankruptcies and serious losses. In nearly every case the roads that got into trouble had long been overbonded, had shown an inadequate coverage of fixed charges in periods of average prosperity, and would thus have been ruled out by investors who applied strict tests of safety. Conversely, practically every road that has met such tests has escaped financial embarrassment. Our premise was strikingly vindicated by the financial history of the numerous railroads reorganized in the 1940s and in 1950. All of these, with one exception, started their careers with fixed charges reduced to a point where the current coverage of fixed-interest requirements was ample, or at least respectable. The exception was the New Haven Railroad,