On the 22nd of June, 1918, the Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus was on its way to its next scheduled
performance in Hammond, Indiana. Mre than 300 labourers and circus performers were on board one
of the circus's two dedicated trains when it was forced to stop to deal with a mechanical issue.
The vast majority of passengers were asleep,
unaware entirely that another train was bearing down on them at full speed, and that in just a few
minutes the Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus would suffer one of the worst tragedies it would ever endure.
The Wallace Circus was founded in 1882 by Ben E Wallace, a horse trader based in Indiana. In its
early years it was first and foremost a traveling horse show, with a few exotic animals thrown in
to bring in the crowds. As time went on, though, the show developed, acquiring a huge and varied
animal menagerie alongside a company of acrobats and performers. What had started as a modest
roadshow traveling a handful of midwestern states eventually became one of the grandest spectacles
in the country. The circus rode the rails all over the mainland United States with a show that
boasted three circus rings, two separate stages, 10 acres of canvas, and space enough for 20,000
spectators. In 1907 the already-massive circus would grow still bigger when Wallace purchased
wholesale the Carl Hagenbeck Circus, combining the two into the Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus.
This new show was of such an unwieldy size that it was forced to travel the country aboard
two separate trains, each laden with performers, animals, equipment, circus tents and more.
Any operation of such impressive scale was bound to experience a few incidents here and there, and
indeed the Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus weathered more than its fair share of disaster over the years:
minor train crashes, accidents on the road and a season of severe floods all took their
toll on the circus family, but it soldiered on nonetheless. On the evening of the 21st of June,
1918, the show had just concluded a successful run in Michigan City and was on its way to its
next stop in Hammond, Indiana. One train was well underway and the next was following along, albeit
slowly. It was a fact of life that the circus trains were slow: they were antique stock, built
in the late 1800s. Though they'd been renovated several times they were still made mostly of wood,
in contrast to the predominantly steel rolling stock that had become common on the rails by 1918.
Their outdated construction was still perfectly legal, but meant that they were limited to a
speed no greater than 40 kilometers (or 25 miles) per hour. This steady pace was
not a problem for most of those on board. A collection of more than 300 labourers and
circus performers were housed in bunks and cabins throughout the train, and the vast majority of
them spent the journey getting some shut-eye in preparation for another hard day of work ahead.
The slow pace of the train would have made for relatively good conditions for getting some sleep.
Equally, though, this limited speed meant very slow progress towards their destination - progress
that got even slower when brakeman Oscar Timm spotted a blazing hot axle bearing midway down
the train. Through a series of signals the engine was brought to a stop, and
Timm and several others dismounted to place warning flares on the rails (to ward off
other trains) and then to see about repairing the overheated axle. Before they could do so,
however, a bright light was seen approaching from behind them on the track. Another train.
Brakeman Timm waved frantically, wondering why the approaching engine didn't seem to be slowing down.
Surely the driver could see the signal flares? Timm sprinted down the track towards it,
waving and bellowing... and, at the very last moment, even resorted to throwing a signal flare
he was holding at the window of the driver's cabin as it passed him. The approaching train did not
stop. Tt didn't even slow down. At full speed it plowed directly into the stationary circus train.
The wooden construction of the circus train offered little protection for those inside.
The approaching train ground through several fully-occupied carriages before coming to a halt.
One surviving passenger gave this surreal account of waking from sleep to the sound of the
collision, and then being violently ejected from the train: "I woke up to the sound of splintering
wood, and then suddenly I was sitting up. Then there was another crash, and another, and another.
I was pounded into the corner of my berth. My scalp was split open. The whole car buckled. It
parted down the center as clean as though it had been sliced with a giant knife.
I felt my section rising as the engine of the troop train plowed into it. Then I was away,
up in the air on top of the wreckage in my shirt and drawers. I put down my head and lay still.
A coat came sailing over and landed on top of me, then everything was quiet."
For those, like this survivor, who made it through the initial wreck the danger was not over. Very
quickly a fire began - a blaze that would later be traced back to the oil lamps which had been
used for illumination throughout the circus train. Wounded and shocked, those who had been
ejected from the train were now locked in a race against time to dig out their fellow survivors
before the fire could consume the wreckage. It was a complex rescue operation, and the wreck
site a mess of precarious ledges and splintered wood... but the circus folk were used to danger.
Clowns, labourers, strongmen, roustabouts, aerialists and others fell upon the wreck
and started hauling survivors out and to safety. Slowly, fire companies and
local residents arrived on scene and began to transport the injured to nearby hospitals.
Morticians too were called to the wreck, and the dead were pulled from the ruins of the train and
taken to every funeral home that was available. The sheer number of casualties was overwhelming
:86 had been killed and a further 127 injured. So what had caused this devastating collision?
Why hadn't the approaching train stopped when the driver saw the signal flares and stationary
train ahead of him? Could he possibly have missed these glaringly obvious dangers?
As it turned out he had. The driver in question was Engineer Alonzo Sargent, and he was driving
an empty troop train. The reason why he missed the flares and didn't see the train
was simple: Alonzo Sargent had - lulled by a warm cabin, a recent heavy meal, and the
gentle rolling motion of the train - fallen asleep at the controls of his engine. Sargent
and the fireman of the train were both arrested and criminal charges were leveled against them.
These ultimately came to nothing: a deadlocked jury led to a mistrial and both men escaped
with only the guilt and shame of having caused so much devastation as punishment.
Needless to say, losing so many of its performers and workers was a huge blow to
the Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus... but it was not a final one. Other circuses around the country,
hearing of the incident, sent staff and performers to fill out the show, and the Hargenbeck-Wallace
Circus was, quite miraculously, able to continue its run after missing just two scheduled shows.
It is a remarkable testament to the spirit and determination of the circus folk that they were
able to carry on in this fashion even when so many of their number were injured or grieving. Indeed,
though forever wounded by the trauma of the crash, the Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus
went on for many years, eventually being acquired by the Ringling Brothers Circus,
and only giving its final performance decades later in 1936. Many of those who died in the
crash near Hammond were buried in a dedicated area of Woodlawn Cemetery. Their graves were surrounded
by statues of elephants - then a common part of almost every circus - with trunks lowered in a
gesture of mourning. This area of the cemetery, known as Showmen's Rest, is owned to this day by
the Showmen's League of America, and serves as the final resting place of many travelling performers.
They lie now at rest, surrounded by people from history who took the same road as they did:
people who, if they found themselves in the same time and place, they might have considered family.