The Last Train To Key West

In the late summer of 1935, the United States was in the midst of The Great Depression, the "worst and longest economic collapse in the history of the modern industrial world." The nation’s economists were cautiously predicting that the worst was over. Unemployment in the country had declined from an all time high in 1933 when one quarter of the American workforce was without a job. While drought was continuing to plague the central plains, the stock market was gradually recovering from its free fall in 1928. These were not the best of times but there were signs that better days were on the way.

In Southern Florida, optimism was more wide spread then in most other parts of the country. Millions of dollars had been invested in the state’s infrastructure. Over the previous seventy-five years, vast acres of wetlands had been converted into a promising paradise that was attracting an increasing number of tourists and retirees. One of the largest investors in Southern Florida was Henry Flagler who left Standard Oil, and his long-standing partner John D. Rockefeller, to focus on a bright new future for the state. His vision was to extend his Florida East Coast Railway beyond its terminus in Homestead, even beyond the reach of existing highways in the upper Florida Keys, to a brand new terminus on the remote and isolated island of Key West, 153 miles away. Once completed, his plan was to establish new and shorter trade routes by sea to Havana, only 90 miles from Key West, and then beyond Cuba to the Panama Canal. What began as "Flagler’s Folly" was later to become known as the "Overseas Railroad" after he, in his private rail car, completed the first official trip from Miami to Key West in 1912. In the end, Flagler’s feat was hailed as an engineering accomplishment on a par with the Panama Canal.

On the eve of Labor Day, summer was about to officially end and most residents of Miami were anxious to make the most of what was left. Flagler’s Florida East Coast Railway placed ads in the major Miami newspapers to promote a spectacular holiday excursion: "Ride the Overseas Railroad from Miami to Key West on this Labor Day weekend for just $2.50 round trip." As a result, the FEC depot in downtown Miami began to fill early. The waiting room on Flagler Street was soon bursting with excited passengers. Children were running about. The sun was bright and the air was buzzing with lively conversations. Everyone shared the exuberance of escaping from the sweltering city for a day or two. Friends loudly greeted friends.

The travelers stood around in small clusters waiting for the boarding announcement. They were a mix of locals from the Miami area, visiting tourists, college students, and former inhabitants of the Keys that had re-settled on the mainland. For some, this weekend would be their last chance that summer to enjoy the cool Caribbean breezes, or their first day ever in paradise. For others, the weekend would be the final jaunt of their summer, or a long awaited trip home for a holiday visit with family. They all knew that they were not living in the best of times, but they had no idea just how much they would have to endure before they would see Miami again. Nearby, the stationmaster sat quietly in his office reading the Sunday comic strips. Behind him, a radio was announcing that a storm had developed in the middle Atlantic.

The passengers eventually boarded for the four-hour ride to Key West. Most of them were still storing luggage in the overhead racks or settling into their seats as the steam locomotive slowly pulled the train out of Miami. During the first twenty-eight miles to Homestead, everyone was engrossed in animated conversations about their weekend plans or the latest news about the storm out in the Atlantic. But when the train passed over Florida Bay onto Key Largo, their attention was drawn to the windows and the extraordinary vistas passing outside. They knew this was the part of their journey that made it the most fantastic train ride in the world. With foreheads pressed against the glass, they watched as the train glided from island to island, from Key to Key, and across dozens of bridges spanning the deeper channels. What they could not see were the hundreds of landfills that were blocking the smaller channels and linking strings of islands into long, narrow land bridges. But they could see the blue Atlantic Ocean on one side and the placid Gulf of Mexico on the other. For nearly half of the trip, the riders saw only the emerald green water just 31 feet below their windows. They were able to imagine that the train was magically gliding across the ocean. From their seats, they watched schools of fish darting about in the crystal clear water below and, once in awhile, a pod of porpoise racing along side.

The train stopped at every little town depot along the way to exchange freight, mail, and, occasionally, a few passengers. Two of the stops were at the busy U.S. Army Veteran’s Camps on Windley Key and on Matecumbe Key that had been built several years prior to house about 750 U.S. veterans who were known as the "Bonus Marchers". They were vets from World War I and The Spanish War, and, also, some "peacetime" servicemen all of whom came home broke, jobless, and homeless. Years ago, they had demonstrated in Washington to collect their army bonuses but they were told that the country couldn’t afford to pay them right now. As a result, the government built camps to house them while they worked on various federally funded construction programs. Only a few of them boarded the southbound train that particular Sunday. Most were staying in camp to enjoy a long festive weekend and, for most of them, it would be their last hurrah.

The Florida East Coast Railway terminal at Key West was built on a landfill called Trumbo Island in honor of Howard Trumbo, the company’s head engineer. The passengers gathered their things as the train rolled into the station. They were happy the ride was over and anxious to begin their holiday in paradise. Although the train was a little behind schedule, no one seemed to notice or to care. There was still plenty of time left in the day. The sky was overcast and the streets were still wet from a shower that just drenched the island. The passengers began streaming from the station. A gentle breeze was making it pleasant to walk.

With the completion of the "Overseas Railroad", Key West had a solid, reliable connection to the mainland. During those twenty-two years, it had grown into a major island city at the southernmost tip of the contiguous United States. Except for the native Seminole, everything, and everyone, in Key West had come from somewhere else. Early inhabitants migrated from the Bahamas and introduced a distinctive Bahamian flavor to the architecture. These long-time residents, known by their heavy Bahamian accents, were referred to as "Conchs" (pronounced "Konks") and they outnumbered all other residents. Spanish was also common throughout the city because of the influx of Cubans who found a refuge here from the political strife in their homeland or sought work in the thriving tobacco industry. As a result, Key West was a multicultural experience with a unique past. It had a heritage that included celebrity residents, like Ernest Hemingway and Thomas Edison, blended with a colorful history of rumrunners and pirates.

At the end of the day, a large number of residents and visitors gathered down on the waterfront in the Old Town section to watch the sunset. They strolled along the pier enjoying each other’s company. There was small talk of the storm somewhere in the Atlantic having been officially declared a hurricane. Some could be overheard complaining that too many showers would ruin their plans for the next day. A couple of old timers at the bar on the wharf agreed that the falling barometer was not a good sign. Still, almost everyone knew that hurricanes usually die out over the colder waters in the North Atlantic and there had been no reports that the storm was heading toward the US. Tomorrow was Labor Day, the last day of summer, and everyone was eager to make the most of it. Overhead, the clouds were dazzling shades of crimson as the waning sun touched the western horizon. And over near Trumbo station, most of the passenger cars of the excursion train heading for Miami were empty when it crossed over the drawbridge at Garrison Bight.

On Monday morning, dark gray clouds hung over Key West. A stiff breeze was blowing from the North. There were periods of light rain and downpours throughout the morning, each growing stronger and more frequent as time passed. Unhappy merchants opened for business that they knew would be a lot less than they had hoped. It was the last official day of summer. The rain did not let up. The first wave of early bird holiday shoppers never appeared. Hopes for a pleasant, or a profitable, holiday weekend were washed away with the rain. Concerns about the weather were rising as the barometer continued to fall.

Few noticed the Labor Day Excursion train when it arrived that morning. No one could have guessed that this train was, in fact, the last train to ever make the run between Miami and Key West! It was equipped with extra cars and crew to handle the additional passengers heading back to the mainland that evening. The locomotive and tender were moved to the opposite end of the train. Oil and water was replenished. By noon, it was parked on a siding to wait for the weekend travelers heading for home. But that return trip later in the afternoon would not be as expected, however. Those home bound travelers could not have predicted that it would take almost a week for all of them to get back to Miami. Nor, could any one have imagined the fate of those who were still on the Keys to the north.

Around the same time everything was being prepared for the four-hour trek back to Miami, a highway construction foreman building a road from Lower Matecumbe to Grassy Key up north in Islamorada in the Middle Keys was on the phone with Florida East Coast Railway officials in Miami. He had received reports that the hurricane was heading in his direction and he requested a train to evacuate all of his workers and the local residents. An order was issued to immediately assemble and dispatch a special train to Islamorada.

But it was, after all, a holiday weekend and the railroad was not prepared for an emergency. It took hours to gather a crew, to steam up locomotive #447, and to assemble the ten coaches and a baggage car needed for the mission. It was 4:30 in the afternoon when the rescue train finally left Miami and it still had to deal with additional delays on the way. By the time it reached Homestead, the last stop on the mainland, weather conditions had grown even worse. A decision to turn the locomotive around so the nose would be coupled to the other cars added still another delay, but one that would make it easier later to move it to the other end of the train so it could pull the loaded cars back to the mainland with its headlight on the tracks. The blinding rain driven by winds gusting up to 150 mph made the visibility nil. But the rescue train pressed on. The plight of those stranded in Islamorada depended on their skill and speed.

Down in Key West, the Labor Day excursion passengers were ready to go home. While boarding, the conversation was generally light and friendly with an occasional complaint about how the weather had ruined much of the fun. Around 5:00 PM, the conductor announced a delay in the departure. The passing minutes grew into an hour. Talk of fun times turned into groans of impatience. As one hour became two, impatience turned into restless boredom. After awhile, the passengers grew quiet and slept. Outside, darkness closed in on them and the howling wind was rocking the train in the station. Once again, the conductor walked through the cars announcing that the hurricane was passing over the Keys in the north and that the train would not be leaving Key West until it was safe. A lot of the passengers complained that they needed to be back in Miami that night, or had to be at work the next day. But their fates had already been sealed by the unpredictable fury of nature. They would not be in Miami that night, nor would they reach it the following night either. In fact, they were about to embark on a long and circular odyssey that would span the next four days.

A category five hurricane struck the Middle Keys with a force not seen in this part of the world for nearly a hundred years. Wind gusts over 190 miles per hour crushed everything, and everyone, in their path. The barometer fell to 26.35, a reading never before recorded in this hemisphere. Still, the rescue train plodded south trying to overcome both the weather and exasperating delays. At Snake Creek, it took more than an hour to restore the damage caused by a loose cable lashing about in the gale force winds. Many of the residents at stops along the way refused to board the train choosing, instead, to ride out the tempest in their homes. Most of the veterans in the government camps continued their parties. The churning ocean washed away some of the landfills allowing the rising tide to re-claim a few of the deep channels that nature had designed to control the flow of the currents. Erosion undermined miles of track beds leaving twisted rails scattered across the landscape.

 And then, close to 8:20 PM, as the eye of the hurricane passed over Matecumbe, the storm produced a 17-foot wave that swept over the train, tossing the cars and occupants off the tracks. Passengers and crew were clinging to the train, to the tracks, to each other, to anything they could find that was anchored down. Horrified and helpless, they watched as hundreds of people were washed away by the surge of water.

The heavy rain and the strong winds were still raging when the excursion train, packed with weary, worried passengers, set out from Key West late Monday night. Cautiously, the locomotive followed behind work crews that cleared away debris, inspected for track damage, and made repairs when needed. The progress during the night was painstakingly slow. By Tuesday morning, they had managed to cover only one-forth of the distance to Miami. At Key Vaca, the train stood for hours. The train’s vendor had sold all of his sandwiches and snack bars. All of the water coolers were empty. The lavatories were beginning to smell. Whining children were creating cranky parents. Irate passengers grew more frustrated. The sounds of a hymn could be heard coming from the black passenger’s coach.

Tuesday afternoon the conductor announced that there was a huge washout ahead that had destroyed everything, including buildings and tracks. It was impossible to proceed any further and the train was going to return to Key West. Passengers groaned, cursed, and threw magazines in frustration as the train began to back up. Now in the daylight, the passengers and crew saw, for the first time, the extent of the damage in the communities they had passed through in the dark the night before. When they crossed over Seven-Mile Bridge, the wind was still gusting and there was nothing but water around them. The train moved slowly through a panorama of destruction. Wrecks of fishing boats bobbed about in the water. The surface was littered with lumber. Large sections of houses were floating in the midst of furniture and all kinds of debris. One of the passengers said she saw a body and fainted. When the train finally pulled into Trumbo Island station, it was already dark. The passengers were hungry, tired, and some had no where to go. Their exodus had ended where it had begun the previous afternoon. They were back in the darkened, drenched, windblown city of Key West with absolutely no idea how they would get to their homes on the mainland.

Key West and the Lower Keys were completely cut off from the rest of the country. The telephones were out and the electrical service was intermittent most of the day. Hundreds of stranded passengers mulled about the railway terminus trying to determine how to get back to the Miami. Fortunately, the railroad had a long-standing arrangement with the Peninsular and Occidental Steam Ship Company. Together, they had established special excursion fares for the round trip between Havana, Cuba and Miami using the Port of Key West and the Overseas Railroad as the land link. Under their itinerary, a P&O vessel, the S.S. Cuba, was scheduled to arrive that day to deliver a large number of passengers who were ticketed to go by train to Miami. The steamer was expected to leave the Miami bound passengers in Key West and then to continue on to Tampa on the Gulf coast of Florida. But now, with the railroad crippled, the steamer was obligated to take all of her Miami bound passengers, plus the railroad's stranded excursion ticket holders, north to Tampa by sea. Upon arrival, they would all be transferred to trains that would carry them northeast across the state to connect with the Florida East Coast Railway for the final leg south to Miami.

Such was the plan as the S.S. Cuba, overflowing with Cuban and Key West passengers, sailed late Wednesday afternoon on what was to be a brief and pleasant overnight cruise to Tampa. However, the Gulf of Mexico was still turbulent in the wake of the hurricane and the journey was anything but smooth. Seasickness was widespread. There wasn’t enough pillows, blankets, or deck chairs and those passengers who left theirs unattended ended up without them. Although the food was plentiful and well prepared, the seas were rough and passengers spent most of their time on deck leaning over the railings.

By morning, the seas became calm once more. At the Port of Tampa, streams of weary, unkempt passengers were ushered onto waiting trains for an arduous journey across the state of Florida. The trains stopped every few miles to service every small depot and hamlet on the route. There wasn’t enough food and beverages aboard the trains to accommodate the unexpected crush of passengers so, at each stop along the way, every restaurant, market, and food purveyor was invaded by starving passenger desperate to buy something to eat. They ultimately connected with the FEC about 275 miles north of Miami where they began the final leg south. Their journey ended in the middle of the night, around 2:00 AM on Friday, September 5^th, when the final contingent of exhausted, disheveled travelers finally arrived in Miami. Their Labor Day Weekend excursion to Key West had ended where it had begun some five or six day earlier in the FEC depot on Flagler Street in downtown Miami. Their $2.50 ticket had bought a ride on one of the greatest engineering achievements of their time. They had experienced first hand the incredible beauty and the awesome, destructive power of nature. They had witnessed a tragedy and shared a nightmare that would be with them forever.

The Toll

According to the most reliable data available, the Labor Day Hurricane of 1935 was the first of only three hurricanes to ever reach the US coast at "category 5" strength. The others were Camille in 1969 and Andrew in 1992. Most estimates place the total death toll in 1935 between 400 and 500 while some go as high as 800. More than one-third of the 750 veterans stationed in the government camps on Windley and Matecumbe Keys perished that night. Sadly, the remains of most of those lost were beyond identification or were never recover at all. During the days and nights that followed, rescue workers faced insurmountable problems while working around the clock to save the living and to bury the dead. Time and the bright glare of the sun were their enemies. It became necessary for the National Guard to use enormous funeral pyres and massive common graves to reduce the threat of epidemics.

The Overseas Railroad

More than one-half of the tracks and infrastructure of the Overseas Extension of the Florida East Coast Railway was lost within that single 24-hour period. The land and the bridges were later sold to the State of Florida for a reported $640,000 after the stockholders and the government decided not to rebuild. Although the Overseas Railway was never a big moneymaker, it was not the hurricane that caused its demise. It was the internal combustion engine.

Highway US1 was constructed over many of the original railroad bridges and rights-of-way. Some of the bridges not used by the highway still exist today as fishing piers and pedestrian walks. Since 1938, it has been Key West’s new link to the mainland. This uninterrupted highway stretches 2377 miles along the length of the US East Coast from Fort Kent in Maine to Key West, Florida. There, at the intersection of Whitehead Street and Fleming Street, there is a sign above mile marker zero that reads "End of US 1."

To Honor The Memory

Further north, on Highway US1 at Mile Marker 81.5 in Islamorada, there is a 65 ft by 20 ft limestone memorial marking the mass grave of many of those who died in the storm. It was dedicated November 14, 1937 and the U.S. Department of Interior placed it on the National Register of Historic Places on March 16, 1995. The plaque reads "Dedicated to the memory of the civilians and war veterans whose lives were lost in the hurricane of September Second, 1935."