Problems Plagued the Little Railroad

The idea made so much sense to Jasper Harrell, a wealthy Visalia businessman, and his small group of investors that they moved forward with starting a small commuter railroad line that ran between the neighboring towns of Visalia and Tulare. Residents of the towns interacted a lot, so the train seemed to be perfect. This short line was called the Visalia & Tulare Railroad (V&TRR).

The V&TRR incorporated as a company on October 1, 1887, and held the inaugural dedication event on October 22, 1888. The 11½-mile one-way trip started at Harrell's bank building on the southeast corner of Main and Court streets and ran south on Court. The route made a wide westerly curve and followed Tulare Avenue, then made another wide curve southbound along the Visalia-Tulare Highway, later named Mooney Blvd. Once near the town of Tulare another wide curve brought the track to the train depot in Tulare.

The project required obtaining real estate right of way, purchasing 30-pound steel rails and rolling stock consisting of two wood-burning locomotives, three passenger cars and one flat car. Eleven employees were hired. The track was standard gauge but the locomotives were small, with not a lot of power. The route was flat and the cargo relatively light, so not much horse power was required. But early on, the company probably regretted buying the small locomotives as the train soon gained a reputation as being slow. In fact, it was soon said that a strong boy on a bicycle could get to Tulare faster than the train.

The train had three regularly scheduled daily round-trips with additional runs added when either town had a special event. Each leg of the trip took 30 minutes. The line was accommodating to people who lived along the tracks. If they needed groceries or supplies, they could flag down the train and the crew would pick up the items and deliver them on the return trip.

But not everyone was happy with the train. John H. Woody owned a farm adjacent to the tracks and his 2,300-pound bull would occasionally get out of his pen. The big animal obviously saw the locomotive as a rival and would stand on the track and stare down his adversary.

The railroad had its share of human tragedy. In 1891, Edgar Woods, a deaf woodchopper, was walking on wet tracks. As the train approached him from behind, the engineer sounded the whistle to alert him, but Woods didn't react and continued walking. The engineer applied the brakes, but the slippery tracks made it impossible to stop and Woods was struck. He was taken to Visalia for medical treatment where his foot had to be amputated.

And there were other injuries connected to the railroad. On one trip, the Healy family was onboard and when it was about a mile from its destination, it was forced to stop due to a washout of the track. Several passengers, including the Healy family, hopped on a handcar and continued on. As the loaded handcar approached the business section of Tulare, it derailed. The accommodating passengers lifted it back onto the track, and continued on. Just before they arrived at the Tulare depot, Mrs. Healy lost her footing and fell from the hand car. It passed over her body, but she survived her injuries. The family sued the railroad and received a judgment.

Even though the railroad had some good years, it struggled financially, but no one could have predicted its dramatic end.

On May 5, 1900, the train left Visalia at about 7:30 p.m. with 35 passengers onboard. Engineer Gilbert D. Inness while by the Caldwell Ranch (near what is now Mooney Boulevard and Caldwell Avenue), and his friend Ed Thomas were adding wood to the engine firebox when Inness took his eyes off the track. At that moment, a cow or calf wandered onto the track. Inness didn't see the animal until it was too late. The engineer immediately turned off the steam and applied the brakes, but not in time.

The train, traveling about 20 mph, hit the animal with such force that it was cut in half. Sensing the impending collision, Innes and Thomas jumped from the engine at the time of impact and ended up under the overturned locomotive. Miraculously, neither man was seriously hurt. The enclosed passenger coach also derailed and overturned onto its side. The passengers inside were badly shaken and suffered cuts and abrasions. One, however, was badly hurt, Mrs. Twaddle, the wife of Tulare County Supervisor Thomas Twaddle. Her back was wrenched in the accident, causing temporary paralysis.

The struggling little railroad never recovered. The line shut down, and on August 2, 1900, the last piece of rolling stock was sold to a lumber company in Seattle.