Jim Richardson had a spotless record during his twenty-three years as a locomotive engineer at the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad. Although Jim was a bit of a union rabble-rouser, he had a good reputation with his employer. Jim did things by the book when possible, and when the rules needed to be bent, Jim usually bent them in the way of good sense and safety.
Because of Jim’s near-perfect safety record, he was often drafted to take other engineers out on "qualification runs." The regional rail system was divided into a series of zones, and an engineer needed to qualify in each zone before they could operate a locomotive in that zone. The qualification process consisted of a few hundred pages of book study, some classroom work, and finally, a number of qualification runs under the supervision of a senior engineer. Most of Jim’s colleagues hated qualification runs. The extra responsibility and paperwork weren’t worth the additional $1.40 per hour the railroad paid on these training shifts. Jim didn’t mind the work; in fact, he enjoyed sharing the tips and tricks he had learned over the years with his coworkers.
Tonight’s qualification run with Dennis Andino started at the Proviso yard in Chicago, heading south to the Woodcreek Yard with nearly 100 box cars. Jim knew the Woodcreek Yard well, but it could be tricky in the dark, and without a moon, this night would be dark.
Just outside Woodcreek, they came upon the first set of switches. Jim walked to the rear of the train to throw switches to back the train onto a siding while he left his charge, Dennis, at the controls of the locomotive. Jim was signaling Dennis with a flashlight, telling him to proceed as Jim set each switch along the way.
The locomotive had indicator lights that showed where the train needed to stop for each switch. It was not necessary for Jim to signal Dennis to stop each time, but he did so as an extra precaution. As they approached one of the last switches before they entered the yard, Jim became concerned that Dennis wouldn’t stop to allow Jim to throw the switch. He signaled frantically with his light, but Dennis drove the train right into the switch. Instantly, Dennis knew what he had done, but it was already too late. One end of the leading boxcar had derailed and sat four inches off the side of the rails.
Jim should have reported the event and waited for a crane and crew to arrive to right the car. Usually, that is what Jim would have done. It wasn’t such a big deal, especially considering Jim’s sparkling record, and railroad workers even had insurance called “can insurance” that would pay them for the days off work administered to them as punishment. But tonight was not a typical night. They were on a qualification run, and an error like this would prevent Dennis from qualifying in this zone for another six months or more.
Jim had gotten out of messes like this before. If the train was eased slowly back over the switch, there was at least a 50-50 chance of getting the car back on the rails. They had to be careful, though. If the wheel got caught in the switch, it could tear it apart, and they would be in even more trouble than they already were. A task like this cried out for a radio to coordinate the train’s movement, but railroad managers would overhear any talk on it.
Jim walked back to the locomotive, instructed Dennis on the planned maneuver, and returned to the switch with a 4x4 over his shoulder, intended to block the switch. Dennis slowly pulled the train up to the switch and gave the throttle a series of short pokes as Jim had directed. But instead of moving the wheels back towards the track, the car's wheels began moving farther from it.
Jim decided that they were screwed and that he would call off the attempt to right the car. He signaled to Dennis to come to a complete stop. Dennis slowly came to a stop as directed, and just after the train stopped, the boxcar began to lean and quickly toppled over! It wasn’t enough that the car had toppled over, but it also smashed a small building housing expensive signaling equipment.
Jim had to call his supervisor and request a crew to right the train. He didn't know how badly the signaling equipment had been damaged, but he worried it would become a big deal for him and Dennis.
Jim expected to be notified to appear for a disciplinary hearing for overriding the switch and backing the train without authorization. Oddly enough, he was never called in for a hearing. After three weeks, Jim called his shop steward and asked about his case.
The union representative explained that another railroad owned the signal box and that railroad would sue Chicago and Northwestern for more than two million dollars to replace the equipment that had been smashed by the toppled boxcar.
Since Chicago and Northwestern chose to fight the lawsuit, their attorneys wanted Jim and Dennis to testify that the other railroad’s switch was at fault. Given their claims in court, they couldn’t take any disciplinary measures against Jim and Dennis.
