Sleeper Car

An interruption in the track popped the chair up and I jumped awake in the middle of an aggressive dream. I don’t know what the dream was exactly, just that it jarred me. In the waning sunlight as I gazed past the window, green fields rushed by in a blur, and wildflowers, a streak of goldenrod. Stretching and yawning, I pushed my arms out to pull the knots out of my back, and my left hand grazed something hard.

Once I recomposed myself, I looked left and beheld the long, lavishly built, black casket trimmed in bright, shining silver. I stood, deeply taking in the memory of my father's life, and exhaling a breath of regret for his passing. Sighs became the dictate of the evening as I gazed out the window.

As the sun set, I thought of my mother. Though she'd elected not to come, I held certain she’d have everyone running around for her and didn’t regret her decision. With 1654 miles, 400 cities, 7 states and my father's body being moved out for display at several stops, there could be little doubt that my mother would have made a spectacle of the whole thing. She wasn't capable of much and this was too overwhelming.

Touching the casket, I caught myself sighing again as the porter came through.

"Evening, suh." The man said.

"Good evening, George." I replied. "How are things in the Brass Car?"

"Can't say, suh." he answered pulling a long matchstick from his overcoat and lighting the lanterns. "Gettin' nigh on time to light the cars and I ain't paid them no mind. Of course, seems like if they wasn't well, I'd've shorely heard something 'bout it."

I laughed. It felt good to have some levity in light of the current situation.

"Can I get you anything, suh?" The George Porter asked.

"Actually, George, if you would be so kind as to bring some water. Just, as it's convenient to you. No hurry."

"Yes, suh." He responded. "And if it ain't too bold, let me just say how sorry I am about your father." Before the silence went any further, he added: "And your brother."

"Thank you." I responded, feeling a slight pinch of sorrow in my heart as the porter finished lighting the lanterns and hurried out to get the water.

Stretching again, I walked about to exercise my legs. Arriving at the foot of my father's casket, I stopped short of my little brother’s. It was a harrowing thing to revisit Willie’s death in addition to father's. Three years had passed since typhoid took him and we hadn't even returned to Springfield to bury him. We’d always planned on going when father's tenure had ended. Well... it ended.

The finality of that thought tore at me. I held my breath, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. George came back faster than expected and poured my first cup before pardoning himself.

I drank it slowly, making my way back to the green chair where my long coat lay over the arm. Seating myself, I rested eyes on father's casket. I regretted traipsing his corpse about for people to view; people I doubted would've shown him any compassion prior to his death.

Chicago had been a blessing and a curse. Over seven-thousand people an hour came to pay their respects, but his body’s condition had declined to the point that the onlookers were almost shaken up by it.

Suddenly, we hit another bump and the train began moving at high speeds, even though we were forewarned to maintain twenty-miles-per-hour or under. Standing up, I nearly stumbled when we hit something again. Afterward, the car shimmied so hard, I began to worry the caskets would fall over and there was no way I could stand that.

Moving to the outer door, I looked over into the warm light coming from the "Brass Car" behind us. They were only accessible from the outside with a key and only the porters had those. If only I could get over to their door to get someone's attention.

Grabbing the lantern from the side table, I opened the door, stepping into the night. I tried assessing the situation but couldn't get enough light on the connection to see what had happened; not without possibly falling under the train myself. Once on the other side, I put the lantern in front of me to illuminate my face and banged hard on the door. In a moment, the porter came rushing out.

Motioning for him to follow me, we both labored to keep our limbs under control long enough to get from one platform balcony to the next.

"Something wrong Mr. Robert?" the porter asked, stepping into the car with me.

"George, have we hit a bad patch of railway? I'm sure you and I can agree that this isn't how these cars should behave."

"No suh. You're right. I did notice it was pitchin' in the other car, but not bad as all this!"

"Something's wrong." I told him. "Are you able to reach the captain and ask him to slow down?"

"Naw Suh." The porter answered. "We in the 9th car on the train and done bedded down for the night. They done started stoking the pit to raise the speed so's we can make bettuh time. I'm pretty sure we run over somethin', and we probably 'bout to throw a pin. That's likely what's causin' us to bump about so."

If we hadn't been standing in the same cab with my father's corpse, I might have sworn out loud. I decided however, to forget complaints and get into action. We weren't going to make it all the way to Springfield in the state we were in. There was 184 miles between the two destinations left, and we hadn't gone very far.

I struggled with calling the man "George". There'd been three porters since we started, and everyone called them George, (after Mr. Pullman, the man who built the sleeper cars).

"I know we've been calling you George. What is your real name?"

"My mama called me James before the war, suh. That be my right name."

"Thank you." I answered, hastily shaking his hand. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise, Suh."

"James, whereabouts are we on the rail?"

"Well, we should be passin' by to Bridgeport, directly since we just come through Fort Wayne. We's sposed to go by there 'bout 9:55. We's behind schedule though, that's why they stokin' us up."

Just as he finished, the train hit something and again the furniture that wasn't bolted to the floor trounced into the air and back down. Both caskets had significant movement but more disturbing to me, was the fact that the shimmying railcar was now making metal grating noises.

"James. Go get me something really heavy. I need something I can hold in my hand and slam down into the pin..."

"Suh!" He yelped. "You goin' ta kill yo'self and be laid out there next to them if you ain't careful!" He tossed his arm out in the direction of the two caskets in the room.

I thought about the appointed time we should pass Bridgeport and pulled my pocket watch to have a look. I didn't want to risk coming apart, especially if the train wasn't slated to stop. The last thing I needed was to have an accident killing innocent people with the train carrying my family to their final resting place. Leaning a hand against the wall to stable myself, I locked eyes with James.

"We don't have much time! I need you to go get something heavy. And you best hurry! I'll start working out a way for me to get down to the coupling so we can get to that pin and see what the problem is!"

"Right away Mr. Robert. I'll help ya."

As James slipped out, I stood thinking on everything I remembered about trains. I’d ridden some during the war and watched them joining at the rail yards. I knew about the rings and pins and knew that James was probably right. Most likely we were losing a pin, and I prayed we hadn't already lost it.

“Nothing for it.” I murmured, taking a deep breath and opening the door to step out into the night air. It was a cool night for May and though I should smell cornfields and pastures, all I could smell was hot metal with an oily tinge to it.

Air raced into my lungs as I squatted down on the balcony with the lantern to see what the issue was. Holding the railing with one hand, I extended my arm with the lantern light. My fears came crashing down as I witnessed a hole where the pin should be, and the coupling ring basically dangling together by the sheer force of the train's speed. The pin hadn't fallen off yet. It was sitting on top of the coupling curvature and bobbing around with each movement.

I couldn't afford to wait for James. If that pin fell, we were doomed. I looped the arm with the lantern around the railing of the balcony and laid down on my stomach. Reaching out to the place where the pin bobbed with my other hand, I just couldn't reach it. I was afraid to scoot out for fear of falling, but knew I had to get that pin. Taking a deep breath, I used my feet to push the top part of my body out, trying to stay rigid, even though my abdomen burned with the effort. I stretched and pushed until I thought my body would break, but my fingers did touch it.

Just as my hand locked around it and I brought it in, I realized that with both hands full, hanging off like that, I couldn't get myself up. Everything in me burned and I struggled to breathe. The top part of my body numbed as I tried to find something with my foot to help me pull back. Just when I thought I would let go and die, James came out of the Brass Car with something in his hand. I couldn't make out the object but heard the sound of metal when he dropped it, leaping onto the other balcony to pull me to safety.

"Mr. Robert!" James shouted. "You crazy!"

Smiling, I held up the pin.

"But that's all right!" James amended, making me laugh. I looked at James with both brows risen in question as if to ask if he'd found something.

The older gentleman picked up a cast iron skillet.

"Where'd you get that?" I asked, then: "Never mind! Great job!"

"Mr. Robert, I can't let you walk out there, suh. We just goin' ta have to figure somethin' else out."

I tried hurrying my thoughts, but realized it wasn't helping. Then it came to me. Rushing back into the sleeper car, I grabbed my gentleman's coat and brought it out to James.

"Listen", I said, grabbing the pan from James and handing him the coat. "We'll put this around me, you feed both sides through the railing then hold the ends of it and pull back as I go forward. I'll drop the pin into the hole and hit it with this pan until we get it worked back in. Understand me?"

James stood looking at the coat and I’m not sure what came over him, but he looked at the Brass Car behind me and tears pooled in his eyes.

"Mr. Robert, Suh..." He said looking deeply into my eyes, searching for the right words.

"It's ok, James. Tell me after. We have to do this now!"

James gave the me a stout nod, and then threw the coat around my waist. Pulling it through the bars and wrapping it into his grip, James pushed one foot onto either side of the railing to help anchor him.

I turned within the coat, leaning forward until I felt James catch me. Slowly, James let his arms lower me down into the dark place between the rail cars and prayed out loud for strength and safety.

I saw nothing at first, but occasionally made out the black coupling. I was grateful there were lanterns on the back decks because every couple of seconds I could see it. I fumbled around with the iron pin, my stomach almost vomitous with the movement of the train and tightness of the coat.

"You okay Mr. Robert?" James shouted out, struggling in pain.

"Well..." I yelled back. "The pin is almost in. Hang on!"

James didn't answer.

Soon, there was a "CLANG", and then another.

I put one hand on the metal structure beneath me for support and used the other to hit the pin as forcefully as possible. It didn't drop, so I tried it again.

Nothing.

Muttering, I thought of my father. The man split railroad ties with an axe, and here I was struggling to put this ridiculous pin in. I closed my eyes, keeping that image of my father. Taking a deep breath, I hit the pin as hard as I could, and it clicked down into place. The rhythm of the car seemed to even out.

"I got it!" I yelled back to James.

"Now what we gonna do Mr. Robert?" He called back.

"Do you have the strength to pull me up?"

At that, somehow James managed enough strength to start pulling the coat up, using the railing for leverage. The very moment I got my hands on the wrought-iron bars I latched on for dear life and helped James get me safely onto the balcony. We stood on the platform for a moment, hugging. Then James looked at me with tears in his eyes.

"I'm grateful you was here, Mr. Robert! Your daddy was a great man, and you are too."

"And so are you, Mr. James." I reminded him. "My father couldn't have done what he did alone, and neither could I. Thank you for your help."

"My pleasure, suh." James answered. "You be needing anythin' else, Mr. Robert?"

"No, thank you Mr. James. I can take it from here."

"Glad to hear it, suh. I think I need to take a lie down myself."

Laughing, I clapped the man on the shoulder as he made his way over to the other car with his pan.

Tossing the coat over my arm, I returned to the sleeper car and stood in silence for a moment. As we slowed riding through Bridgeport, I checked my pocket watch and noted that we’d made our time back up. Relieved, I allowed myself a few moments to sit in the chair and rest. By the time we arrived in Joliet, thunder rattled my compartment. Concerned about the current slow-down, I rose, looking down the line from my window to see if there was a problem.

There wasn't.

As the train slowed, thousands of lanterns lit the fields outside, despite heavy rain. People had come to pay homage in an outright downpour as the train rolled by. It seemed an eternity watching the beautiful lights disappear in the dark, but one thing stuck out in my mind; they were here from a genuine love for my father... and it made the whole trip worthwhile.

I took my rest in the sleeping compartment instead of the chair for the first time since the trip began.

By 9am, we pulled into Springfield, with the whistle resounding for miles. I stepped onto the platform that fateful morning in May, 1865, grateful to be free of the rail car. As I did so, James stepped off the train busy with work, handling baggage for others who rode with us, and answering their questions about the proceedings.

Springing from the platform, I rushed to meet him. As I approached in front of the others who ignored his existence, I shook his hand.

"Thank you, James, for saving my life last night." I told him.

"And thank you suh, for saving ours." James grinned from ear to ear. "God bless you and your family, suh. I'll be a prayin for you."

"And I for you." I ended the handshake with a wink and headed off to Willie’s carriage while James recanted the story from the night before to those who had slept through it.

By 10:00am, the mahogany hearse led by six great, black horses and crowned in plumes of black feathers, had already collected father, conducting his next to last ride. The procession moved from the depot to the State House where thousands paid their respects until the following morning at 10am, when the procession would move to Oak Ridge Cemetery.

I rode with my brother’s pall, as I’m sure father would have intended. When Willie was in the tomb next to him, I thought of my brother’s soft hair, his sweet face. Sorrow gripped my heart to think that he would never run giggling through the house again. Tightening my jaw I managed to control my tears. I'd done my part; made the conscious decision to leave now and put this behind me. The fight was over and my part in it was done. It was my time, and I was going to live it the way I saw fit.

***********************

Robert Todd Lincoln went on to become a successful attorney, serving as legal counsel to the Pullman Palace Car Company, the very company that fashioned his father's rail car. He made his last appearance at the dedication of his father’s Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., on May 30, 1922. By then, Robert had amassed a fortune.