Maryland 20730. One block west of Patuxent Road on Montgomery
Street is a stream feeding into the Patuxent River that is called
Walker’s Branch; and on a bright clear summer’s day in 1924
the wooden planking and the steel superstructure of the bridge over
the stream gave way under the locomotive-like weight of a
smoke-spouting farm tractor, throwing the operator, the tractor,
and the hitched-on thresher down 50 or more feet into the bottom of
the ravine. Photo compliments of the Laurel Centennial Book and the
News Leader. Permission granted by Honorable Mayor Wilson, Laurel,
Maryland 20730.
I would like to set the facts straight concerning a tragedy that
occurred over 50 years ago in this area. I was not yet born, but
all of my life, which has been spent with steam engines, I have
heard numerous versions of this story. I finally decided I would
locate the true facts, and became involved in a five year project,
separating the truth from fiction. As a result, I have been able to
assemble the following story. It is based on interviews with men
and women who remember, a few written records, and information from
the family. After 50 years it is difficult to find the difference
between fact and myth in some cases. During my search I was also
fortunate in finding some excellent photos of the accident. So, to
set the story straight here are the facts as I have found them. If
anyone can supply additional information or corrections, please
write to me.
I will begin the story with a brief history of the family as it
may help explain some of the reasons so little is known about the
accident. Mr. & Mrs. Sadilac immigrated to this country about
1890 from their native Europe and settled in New York City. The
ways of immigrants sometimes were quite different from those of
their new country, therefore, they had a tendency not to confide
closely with neighbors, particularly on family matters. The Sadilac
moved to Baltimore, Maryland about 1896, and to Laurel, Maryland a
short time later. There they began to farm and raise a family
consisting of four children: John, Rudolph, Mary, and Joe. As they
grew up, Rudolph became an engineer on the B&O Railroad, while
helping out at home and operating threshing rigs. Joe died of
unknown causes while still a young man and Mary married and moved
to Baltimore, where I lost her trail. John helped out on the family
farm and ran threshing rigs, and it is with him the story is
concerned. The only member of the family that I knew personally was
Rudolph, who moved to a farm near Water Lick, Virginia, shortly
before his retirement from the B&O Railroad. His widow and
their children are the only survivors of the family, of which I
know. John had never married, and Rudolph married after the
tragedy, so his widow was not connected with the family at the time
of the accident. Her only knowledge of it is based on what was told
her and what family papers were left after Rudolph’s death.
This brings us to the day of the tragedy, the morning of August
28, 1924. John was about to complete the last portion of his
threshing run. Our threshing runs being in two parts, field and
barn threshing. It must be born in mind also that our threshing
usually began about the first of July and lasted two to three
months, each job taking about a day on the average. His last swing
was to be a series of four small jobs, all located along what is
known as ‘Brooklyn Bridge Road.’ This road could be reached
by either of two ways. From his starting point he could have gone
up Sandy Spring Road and in Bond Mill Road. This would have been
the shortest way, but it was all sand and would require lots of
work with chains, jacks, and cables to pull the thresher trough.
The other way was down Sandy Spring Road to Brooklyn Bridge Road.
This meant crossing ‘Brooklyn Bridge,’ so called after the
famous bridge in New York City. It was a wooden planked bridge and
its’ strength was questioned by many. As John prepared to leave
the farm where he had stayed the night, he was asked which way he
intended to go. As related to me by the farmer whose place he was
leaving, his reply was, ‘over Brooklyn Bridge.’ This
brought the question, ‘do you think it will hold you?’ His
reply was supposed to be ‘No, but I am going to try it.’
This, if true, foretold the future. While I have heard two versions
of where he left from that morning, I think both could be true, as
I know for a fact he had spent the night at the Barton farm. I was
told that he left from Laurel where repairs had been made to the
thresher. Since he would have normally left the farm about 7:00
A.M. and the accident happened about 10:00 A.M. on the far side of
Laurel, he well could have stopped in Laurel. This would have given
him about two hours in Laurel for repairs, so this would explain
the two stories.
On this day John was accompanied by his helper who normally
tended the engine while threshing. Brooklyn Bridge ran over a small
stream and was about 50′ high and about 150′ long. It was
of wood deck construction, with steel girders and braces, with
stone piers on each end, none in the middle. John reached the
bridge, as I have said, about 10:00 to 10:30 A.M. At this point his
helper, who had been running the engine, refused to run it across,
leaving John to do it. John’s rig consisted of a large Case
engine thresher, bailer etc. I say large engine as it was for our
area, being either a 65 or 75 HP engine, compared to our normal 45
or 55 HP maximum sizes. The engine and the front trucks of the
thresher were on the bridge when the bridge let go. If John had
taken one precaution, he might have lived, according to witnesses.
Most of the engineers in this area closed all steam lines possible
before crossing dangerous bridges. John neglected to do this. He
was pinned between the engine and thresher and was scalded by the
steam line to the injector before he could be freed. This scalding
was what proved to be the fatal injury.
The crash of the bridge was heard as far as a mile away,
according to reports. The helper who was walking ahead was wearing
a brand new pair of boots, and being new, they were loosely laced.
He either was thrown or jumped completely out of them, and suffered
a broken leg in his fall into the ravine.
Telephones were few and far between, and a doctor was summoned
from the nearby home of Mrs. Nettie Obrian, 1101 Montgomery Street.
(Bell Telephone Company please take note, her telephone number was
#5.) I believe it was her daughter who took some of the photos,
upon her arrival home from work that evening. Not everyone had a
camera in those days either. Mr. Sadilac was taken to the home of a
Mrs. Wright, who was known as a very good and highly skilled nurse.
Mrs. Wright cared for the sick and injured in either her home or
theirs as the nearest hospitals were 20-25 miles away. This was a
long and hard trip for a badly injured person, as most roads were
unpaved and ambulances were almost unheard of in the area. After
the accident, he asked that the family not be told what had
happened. His request was granted, as it was obvious from the
beginning he probably would not live. Doctors made every effort to
get food and air into him, but he was so badly scalded in the chest
and throat that he passed away about two days later. He was buried
in St. Marks Cemetery, where he lays in an unmarked grave.
According to many men who had experience with bridge and road
construction, the bridge did not break at the beginning. Instead,
it slipped off the pier which John was coming on to and slid part
way down the pier before jamming and then breaking. The pier, as
originally built, had been about 4′ lower, and to lessen the
hill to the bridge was made about 4′ by building up the piers.
In doing so they continued the taper of the bridge piers outward
instead of straight up. This lessened the bridge’s hold on each
end. As some people know, a bridge will begin to sway in various
directions, finally in a back and forth motion. When back and forth
motion gets in rhythm with the up and down motion it will slip off
a pier, if it does not have hold enough. The conclusion that this
is what happened was drawn from the marks on the bridge piers.
Following the accident, according to several people’s
testimony, a group of lawyers tried to get Mr. & Mrs. Sadilac
to sue the state, on the ground of the bridge construction being
defective. Apparently the family did not wish to do so, as no
papers were found concerning this in the family records following
his death. As far as the fate of the engine goes, though I cannot
prove it, reliable sources claim it was never removed. Instead some
of the cast parts were broken up and removed for junk, and some
were used in the concrete during construction of the new bridge
piers. The boiler, wheels, etc. were supposed to be left laying in
the ravine. About 1950 a large landfill was put over top of the
bridge, piers and all. I have enough testimony that the wheels and
boiler were left in and covered by the fill that I believe it may
be true. A friend and I had tentative plans to check with a metal
detector and maybe do a little digging to see if we could prove it,
but we never got around to it. Incidentally, this was the third
time this engine had been wrecked, having been upset once, and gone
through another bridge.
It was rumored also, that the family, being from ‘the old
country,’ did not trust banks and kept a large fortune buried
on the farm. After their death and the sale of the farm, the
treasure hunts were many, but nothing was ever found as far as it
is known. John’s brother, Rudolph, did find about $20.00 hidden
in various places according to his widow. The farm is now pretty
well built up in houses, but rumors still persist among the old
timers who still reside in the area.
Before closing I would like to suggest we all think about
closing those hot steam lines when loading or unloading engines or
working in a spot involving even a slight chance of danger. It
takes only a minute to close and open them, and it may save yours
or someone else’s life.
I would like at this time to thank all of the people who helped
me in assembling the information and photos for this article. I
especially would like to thank the mayor of Laurel, Maryland, for
permission to use some photos from the Centennial Book of Laurel,
published in 1970, and the News Leader Paper.
