There is a Southern Railroad engine at the Smithsonian. Getting it to and into the museum was a major effort. The fellow in charge of the Southern Railroad's publicity for this event was a young man named Laurence Starkey. Larry's father had been a country singer with a national radio show. As a result, Larry had grown up with people arond the house like Grandpa Jones (his mother used to mke them play out back because they seemed so loud in the house) so it wasn't surprising that Larry told me he'd searched out old railroaders and listened to their stories. He'd met one who had gone out with the crane train to the wreck of Train Number 97. He asked the old man what he remembered from that crash. He said that there was nothing special, "just all those canaries in the trees". "Canaries?"

Apparently the train was loaded with cars filled with canaries heading for the mines. They were the primitive early warning signals for gas buildup in the mines. They were being trasnported into the mountains. They had been freed by the crash and were sitting, twittering in the trees nearby.

Sourdough