The Bridges



          In  addition  to  the  draw-span  between Colchester Point and Allen's Point there were  two other railroad bridges. One was located between Pelot Point and Alburg Tongue while
 the other was between Bow Arrow Point in North Hero and Tromp's Point in Grand Isle.
 According to George Sorrell, the fill for the railroad bridges had to be brought in. The
 marble came from the West Rutland area. Allen Stratton explains that these draw-spans, each 196  feet long, were the design of Charles F. Stowell, G.E., of Albany, N. Y. and built of open-hearth steel by Edge Moor Bridge Works, Wilmington, Del. The interlocking safety design was of particular interest. The devices for working the signals, latches, end supports, turntable, all interlocked so they could only be moved in  proper sequence. When the draw was closed the  only machinery that could be moved was the signal apparatus, operating home and distant signals at both ends of the bridge. When this was thrown to danger the latch lever was released and the latches could be drawn, unlocking the end supports (rollers). Not until this was done was it possible to swing the bridge 180 degrees.   Each of these operations had to be then,  performed in reverse order before it was possible  to return the signals to safety position. The  turning or opening of the draws were hand-  operated.


George Sorrell: The Railroad bridge was  called Bow Arrow Bridge. Our family lived   there. My grandfather came from Sorrell,  Canada with two brothers. When they got  here they were known as the "Sorrell boys."  Originally his name was Peter Mayette but  he changed it to Peter Sorrell. My father's  name was Henry. When my grandfather got  too old and my father quit the bridge, then  that's when I took over. I had an uncle with  me at that time. I wasn't old enough to be  in full charge of the job so they made him  Draw Tender. I left for a brief while in  1933 but returned and was Draw Tender  until 1952. I was there eighteen years and  my father was there I don't know how long.  That was where I was born and brought up.
               We lived in a three room house, two bedrooms and a kitchen. It was single  boarded and when it came fall and the high winds you'd freeze to death, you couldn't   warm it up. It wasn't until late years we put  a ceiling into it and side walls.! put it up  myself and it made quite a lot of difference. We always waited for a west wind to blow strong when the west wind was cold. It  would spray water against the house and it  would freeze and seal up that side of the
 house. It sealed up the door also, you had  to go through the back window to get in  and out but that was the only way you could warm up the place. When the water  was flying, before it got cold and would freeze, the water would come in through  the door. My father drilled holes through the floor to let it drain out. With that job  you'd go to bed at night and you never  knew when you had to get up to let a boat  through the bridge. You'd wake up and  there'd be a boat blowing out there. It took two men to open that bridge, you couldn't  do it alone.  The bridge was a railroad and the first  thing you had to do was get those rails to clear. They called it a miter rail, it came to a point so that rail was raised. You had a T-bar, like a wrench, and it lit onto a
 square shaft with a gear on the bottom of it. You put the key on that and went around  and around about eight times and that  jacked your rails up at both ends. One guy would hold the bar in place and you had a pin and you pinned the gears so when you pulled the bar back the pin would hold the  rails up. Then you moved the bar to another location in the center and then you  started the bridge moving. Two men, one  on one end and one on the other, pushing  with their shoulders. When you were walking you had to walk over a rail and a  tie. In the center where we were working I filled it in to make a platform kind of thing so it would be all even.
           The first thing you had to do was unlock  the bridge; it was all interlocked electrically,
 run by batteries. Then you put your signals  on. Almost a mile either side of the bridge  if a train came along and hit this one piece of track it put the lights on, a green over  red. But if he got two reds right above the  other, he'd know the bridge was open and  he'd cut his speed down so that when he got to the "home signal," which is 300 feet  from the bridge, he'd stop there and stay there until we got the bridge closed and locked and we'd throw the levers and he'd  get a green signal.
           Then there was the train going by three  feet from your bedroom window. Your  dishes  would  rattle. After  awhile  we wouldn't even hear it but you'd always hear  a boat when it same.
            You couldn't go anywhere; you had to stay there and watch the trains and wait for  boats. It was 1943 before the Union got us a day off. It didn't bother me too much, it  was a job and jobs weren't too plentiful for a awhile. Once in a awhile you had to get  a haircut or get some groceries, so you waited for some fisherman to come along to  take your place and you'd go. My brother  used to come down quite often and he'd  take over for me for about an hour while  I'd get my shopping done and get back. We  had one of those hand cars that you pump back and forth. We could put that on the  track in between train times and go do our  shopping at Hoag's Store down by the station. There was no electricity, everything  was gas. We had a gas washing machine and  a gas ice box. You had enough room for  your food day to day but you had no way of getting the food day to day. We ate a lot of  fish and frog legs.
                You started on the bridge the first of  May and most generally got done the first  of  December,  or  whatever  date  the navigation closed. We lived on the other  side of what was Hoag's Store, right next  to Blake McCoach's feed store. I worked for Blake McCoach in the wintertime on his  farm doing chores, he had ten cows, while  he was working for Mincklers. My father  did carpenter work when he was off the  bridge. He worked for Edson Gordon. Quite often the signal would go out of  order and this happened at midnight most  of the time. We'd hear a train blowing and  blowing and we'd get out there with a  flashlight or something and flag them down.  They'd creep up to you and you'd holler, "Signal out of order, go." And they'd take  off. Then you had to report it, of course.
               The next morning the Maintainer came down, that was the job I ended up with. There was a train wreck one winter at  Bow Arrow Bridge, January 31, 1920, I was  two years old. It was the No. 51, the Morning Flyer northbound into Montreal. It  was 39 degrees below zero. My father told  me about John Lane's mother, Sara Lane,  driving up from Sylvester's shore and tying
 her horse and cutter up to the pier to get out there and help. One coach was in the lake and there was ice in the lake, people were getting out in their night clothes, barefooted. One woman they tell about made the mistake of stepping on the rail  and her foot froze there.
                 Many times a boat would come and we'd   unlock the bridge and open it and close it  and lock it and a boat would come again.  Lake navigation used to have the right of  way. But we didn't have the number of  boats back then that we have today. If we  did we'd close for trains instead of open for boats.
                 Ginsberg became president of the railroad  and we thought things would pick up but It
 didn't go that way, it went the other way. We  were  operating  all right  but  the  conductors,  brakemen,  engineers  and  firemen, the "Big Four" we used to call them, called a strike. My boss told me that  if they walk Out, that's it, we'll never be railroading again.(Excerpted from A History of the Town of Grand Isle as told by the People of the Town, Edited by Jan Bender. Copyright 1991 Landside Press. Used by permission.)


Life on  a Drawbridge (From a Vermont Life Article)

Life on a Milk Train

The Stations