Part 2
By Susan Sutton (NOTC President)
So, how did the antique passenger coach find its way to
Concordia last December? It all began with the fall issue of
Territorial Magazine, a regional quarterly printed in Garden City.
On page 18 was an article, "The Marion Belt and Chingawasa
Springs: Kansas' First Excursion Railroad." Robert Collins,
railroad historian from Wichita, was its author. Collins' work
appears frequently in Territorial, where it is known for exploring
Kansas' unique railroading past. How could Collins have known
that his article would spark a positive initiative to save the last
remaining artifact of Marion, Kansas' 1889 foray into railroad
tourism?
Collins' wrote a prophetic line when he stated, "Although the
MB&CS didn't last very long (about 3 years), it nonetheless has a
colorful and interesting story with (so far) a hopeful ending."
Collins' continues with "No one seems to know what happened
to the locomotive...but the two passenger cars became
community fixtures. One...became the "Owl Car" restaurant which
earned the name because it was open all night." The diner
seated eight until 1961..."when a new owner expanded," and the
car was moved to an area farm and became a chicken coop.
"The other passenger car served as a doctor's office until it, too
was moved to a farm." David Mayfield, Marion city Manager,
believes that sometime after the car was moved, it burned to the
ground. Then, only one car remained. The former Owl Car
restaurant and chicken coop is now a Concordia resident.
an understatement. Its trucks (wheel units) were long gone
leaving the undercarriage resting on two I-beams Weeds had
grown up around the bottom obscuring the underneath
condition of the car. Its sides were covered in places with
ancient rolled roofing and an assortment of grey shingles; little
doors for chickens to exit and enter had been cut into each end.
A plywood door was hinged and wired to one end. When
Marty, the Marion city employee, took off the padlock so we
could get a look inside, the spirits of the committee members
lifted - a little.
Of course, some of the car's interior shows deterioration, but
the grooved wooden floor is original as is the stenciled curved
mahogany molding on the side ceiling. The chairs or seats
have long disappeared, but the screw patterns remain in the
floor to help restoration workers track down the size and type of
the original brackets. Other interior and exterior features retain
enough originality to assist replication efforts. After taking
many photographs and measurements, the committee
contingent started home. The return conversation once gain
centered on what a rare find we had come across and the car's
potential as an enhancement for the Orphan Train Complex. At
our next committee meeting four days later, members voted to
raise the money for moving the car to Concordia.
The day after the decision, I called the Marion City Manager and
told him we wanted the coach. Thankfully, I couldn't see his
eyes rolling. I then called author Robert Collins and told him of
our plans. Our conversation put a whole new spin on the
history and presumed age of the coach. Knowing a thing or two
about railroad history, Mr. Collins informed me that the coach,
because of its length, was older than people thought. "The
Legend," as it's been named by the NOTC committee, is under
30' in length. According to Collins, by the mid-to-late 1860's,
new passenger coaches were 45-60' in length. Other
distinguishing features pinpointing age came into being
around this time. One was the clerestory, a ridge in a car's
roofline that added interior headroom and needed ventilation
through small windows along the upper sides. A related
feature was the smooth bullnose transition design of the
clerestory at each end of the car.
Judging by Collins' knowledge of railroad car history and the
intact physical features of "The Legend," there's a good chance
it could have been constructed just after the Civil War! If this is
the case, its date of origin may put it 10-20 years from the start
of the Orphan Train movement, 1854. Much research remains
to be done, but what if "The Legend" is 140 years old-or
thereabouts? Abraham Lincoln was just assassinated;
Reconstruction was not yet in full swing; and Kansas was only
five years into its statehood. Only further research will tell.
With compliments to a grant from the Duclos Foundation, the
National Orphan Train Complex was able to afford transporting
"The Legend" to Concordia. Smith Construction worked
diligently on both ends of the journey and in between getting its
precious cargo delivered. When "The Legend" arrived, several
committee members remarked about the car having fewer
shingles. Mover Dave Smith sheepishly admitted the shingles
started flying off after he turned his truck onto 81 highway at
McPherson. Minus a few shingles that would have been
removed anyway, "The Legend" made it to its new home safely
and soundly.
"The Legend" is currently sitting on the brick platform north of
the Union Pacific depot and is protected from the weather by
blue tarps and pallet wrap. If anyone reading this article knows
of a storage shed or protective shelter to donate to the National
Orphan Train Complex for the duration of the car's restoration,
the committee would certainly appreciate hearing from you.
survived to the present. This author (Collins) was informed of its
discovery during research for (his book), Ghost Railroads of
Kansas. It was moved from its rural location into Marion for
preservation. Unfortunately, the man who was spearheading this
effort died. The car sits in town patiently waiting to learn its fate."
Reading this line from Collins' article proved to be the National
Orphan Train Committee's cue. I immediately sent a letter to
Cynthia Blount (whose name was given in Collins' Territorial
article), director of the Marion County Historical Museum. In the
letter I made a bold case for the passenger coach being donated
to the National Orphan Train Complex for restoration.
After enough time had gone by that I had nearly forgotten the
letter, I received a call from David Mayfield, the Marion City
Manager. He told me that we had better see the car because it
"was in bad shape...and would take a lot of work to fix up," but if
we wanted it, we could have it. He said we had to act fast,
because the city commission had voted to demolish the car in 30
days. Two days afterward, a hurried road trip ensued with NOTC
committee members Linda Houser, Ledona Dowell, myself, and
Orphan Train curator, Stephanie Haiar, headed south. All the
way down to Marion members kept giving themselves pep talks
about what an asset the passenger coach would be to the
Orphan Train Complex once it was moved to Concordia and
preserved.
When we got to Marion, the City Manager directed an employee to
take us "to the little Chingawasa car." And there, along a creek
band, away from public view, set the little diamond in the rough.