Dr. Gurdon Wadsworth Russell spent more than 50 years working for the Aetna insurance company as medical director, leaving the company in 1902. But his tenure there almost ended in 1853 when he miraculously survived the infamous Norwalk railroad accident.
Russell was among a group of physicians returning from the just the sixth annual convention of the American Medical Association in New York when the train, travelling north, began to lurch and shake.
From his seat in the third passenger car, Russell was unable to immediately see what was happening, but he would quickly find out. His train car abruptly snapped in two. The front end dropped down. The back end, where he was seated, remained suspended hanging off the edge of the Norwalk rail bridge across the Norwalk Harbor, and he was first hand witness to the first major railroad bridge accident in the United States.
Railroading was still relatively new at that time, and accidents and derailments were part of the business as many safety features we know today had not been invented.
The Norwalk drawbridge had a signal to warn approaching trains when it was open to allow a ship to pass. It was a red metal ball that was suspended by the side of the track where the engineer could see it well before he was near the bridge. The ball was in place and working on the morning of May 6, 1853 at about ten o’clock when the bridge was opened to allow the 2,700-ton side-wheel steamer SS Pacific to pass. With the 281-foot vessel clear, the bridge had not yet been swiveled back into place as the train from the New York – New Haven Railroad rounded a bend and its engineer saw the open bridge.
By that point, it was too late. Investigations concluded that the train’s engineer, Edward Tucker, had failed to check the signal. Only recently returned to the line after being injured in another accident, Tucker was not overly familiar with the route and some accounts of the event say he was a fill-in on the train that day. The train was supposed to be travelling at no more than six miles per hour when it crossed the bridge, but Tucker had it travelling at least 30 miles per hour.
By the time Tucker threw on his brakes and reversed the engine, the result was inevitable. He and the fireman jumped from the cab of the train just before it crashed.
The engine hurdled across the opening in the bridge and slammed into the abutment in the river. The first car broke apart and submerged into the water and the second came down on top of it. In the third car where Russell was riding, the force of the impact snapped the car in two. One woman passenger was catapulted out of the gaping opening at the front of the car and down onto the cars in the river. She miraculously survived with relatively minor injuries.
Those in the cars in the water were not so fortunate. A reported 46 to 50 people perished, among them seven physicians and a new bride headed to Boston for her honeymoon. Dr. Russell assisted in rescuing as many passengers as he could and attempted to resuscitate those being pulled from the water who weren’t breathing. He reported in a published account of the accident that one victim was successfully resuscitated.
In the wake of the accident, the Connecticut legislature determined that trusting the engineer’s eyes to notice a signal was not adequate; it passed a law that declared all trains had to come to a complete stop before proceeding across any drawbridge.