On the 25th of May, 1950, at around 6:30pm, a crowded tram was making its way through the
streets of Chicago. As it approached a switch in the track the driver missed the frantic signals
of a worker on the street and plowed through the track switch at high speed. Immediately,
the tram collided with a fully-loaded tanker truck hauling gasoline. Fuel spilled out and ignited in
a giant fireball, beginning one of the most deadly public transit disasters in Chicago's history.
In 1950, streetcars were a common sight in Chicago. The city had just purchased hundreds of
new electric trams, which due to their distinctive green and cream coloring came to be known as
"Green Hornets". These vehicles could seat around 57 passengers apiece, with room for more standing.
Each Green Hornet was staffed by two Chicago Transit Authority workers. A driver would pilot
the vehicle, while a conductor would sit at the rear doors to take tickets and answer passenger
queries. To ride, you'd board through a wide door at the back of the vehicle, take a seat, and then
disboard through two narrower doors further up the car when your destination was reached.
Although, like every other tram or streetcar, the Green Hornets ran on rails, their routes weren't
always fixed. Streetcars could be moved between different tracks using switches and turned around
using loops situated all over the network. Often streetcars would be required to use alternate
routes, for example when there were roadworks or a broken down vehicle blocking the way.
On the 25th of May, 1950, flooding was the issue. An underpass near the intersection of State and
63rd Streets had become flooded. Because the motor of most streetcars on the network was situated
very low in the chassis, even a relatively small amount of standing water was a problem.
City workers were called out to unblock drains and clear the flood - work that would
take several hours. In the meantime all cars would have to be diverted.
Chicago Transit Authority employee Charles Kleim was sent to assist with this task.
His job would be to stand beside the switch and signal to approaching streetcars to slow down. He
would then be required to operate the switch and send them into the loop so that they could turn
around. Kleim did his job diligently, waving down and turning around streetcars as they arrived.
The hours dragged on, so that he had turned around almost 200 streetcars by the time he got word
that the flood was soon to be cleared. Another 15 minutes and things would be back to normal. No
doubt relieved Kleim returned to his post, ready to turn around the last few streetcars of the day.
At around 6:30pm a trolley approached. Kleim waved for it to slow down, but it did not.
Surprised Kleim moved forward and waved again more urgently, but the streetcar still didn't
slow down. Despite Kleim's now-frantic gestures it carried on at full speed straight past him.
Things happened quickly after that. The streetcar plowed into the turnaround loop at full speed.
A distinct buzzing sound reported by survivors indicated that the driver applied the emergency
brake at this point, evidently realizing his mistake... but it was too late.
The streetcar slammed into a gasoline tanker that had just emerged from the flooded underpass.
A massive explosion took place, with a fireball blasting in through the front
window of the streetcar. Fuel gushed from the ruptured tanker, forming a
pool around the wreck and quickly igniting. Within seconds the whole scene was ablaze.
On board the Green Hornet, panic took hold as passengers surged towards the back of the car
in order to escape the flames. At this point the actions of a 14 year old girl were instrumental
in saving several lives. Beverly Clark was riding the streetcar alone, heading for the
cinema to catch a movie. Immediately following the collision she was thrown to the floor
and then trampled by her fellow passengers as they escaped towards the rear of the streetcar.
Somehow, she managed to get to her feet and reach the center door... only to find it firmly sealed.
Her efforts to force it open were hopeless, but after a moment she remembered that there was an
emergency door release. Beverly knew how to find and operate the emergency release only because
she had pulled it on several previous occasions as part of childhood pranks with her friends.
These "practice runs" almost certainly saved her life. Reaching up, Beverly operated the
release and the doors sprung open. She spilled out into the street and was followed by several
incredibly lucky passengers before the spreading flames blocked the center doors once more.
Meanwhile, at the rear of the car, a pileup was taking place. The doors there opened inwards,
and so no amount of pushing and kicking by frantic passengers inside the car would make
them open. The conductor, a man named William Liddell, had been seated beside the doors when
the collision took place. The impact had thrown him to the floor, where he was then trampled by
other passengers. By the time he regained his footing passengers were already congregating
by the rear doors, attempting to force them open. Liddell shouted for the crowd to stand
back and let the doors open. At the same time he reached for the levers to release the doors.
He knew full well that they would not open if people were applying pressure from the inside,
and he wasn't sure if his cries to stand clear of the doors were being heeded. The interior of the
car was now full of smoke, confusion and noise. Nonetheless, he pulled the levers and the doors
miraculously sprang open. Liddell and a small number of other passengers were able to escape.
However, the crush around the doors was so intense that it soon forced them closed again.
The remaining passengers were left with few other options. They had only seconds left to escape.
Using whatever came to hand several broke windows and attempted to squeeze through them. They were
largely thwarted by metal bars which had been installed across the windows. Ironically,
these were "safety bars", designed to stop passengers leaning or reaching out of windows.
Nonetheless a small number of people were also able to escape this way.
One passenger, 18 year old Arleen Franzen, recalled squeezing out through a painfully
narrow gap and escaping onto a nearby green. When she turned around she saw a co-worker of hers who
happened to have been on the streetcar too, attempting to escape through the same window.
As Arleen watched, her co-worker was overwhelmed by the flames and collapsed back into the car.
Passersby rushed to help those few who could escape, but most rescuers were soon beaten back
by the spreading flames. By the time firemen and other emergency personnel arrived on scene
there was nobody left alive on board the streetcar to save. The flames were so immense that the first
firefighters on scene couldn't even determine that there was a streetcar in the midst of them.
All in all, 34 people were killed in the crash and subsequent fire,
the driver of the streetcar included. 50 people also sustained serious injuries.
Before it could be extinguished, the fire spread to several nearby buildings,
burning them irreparably and making more than 100 people homeless.
It was the most deadly and damaging collision ever to have taken place involving just two vehicles.
An investigation was launched into the disaster, and several key factors were identified.
The performance of Charles Kleim, the flagman who had been responsible for signaling to approaching
streetcars to slow down at the turnaround loop, was called into question. It emerged that he
had not been wearing all of his uniform and had not carried the flags and signal flares usually
used for this task. He had also engaged in a forbidden (but tolerated) practice,
known as "plugging the switch" - essentially jamming the switch so that it was constantly
open rather than opening it and closing it for every streetcar that passed.
Kleim's actions were, however, just one aspect of the disaster. The design of the Green Hornet also
came in for some criticism. The doors that would only open inwards, the bars across the windows,
the fact that there were exit doors on only one side, and the lack of easily accessible emergency
door releases had all made escape from the burning streetcar next to impossible for the victims of
the accident. Additionally, it was discovered that streetcars weren't routinely subject to the same
speed limits as other road users, and that the driver of the fateful trolley had been involved in
10 minor accidents during his career... but had never had his fitness to drive questioned
or checked. Finally, the rules concerning the haulage of gas through the city of Chicago were
examined. Other cities made deliveries at night, or enforced a mandatory maximum on the amount of
gasoline that could be hauled along certain routes. Chicago had few rules of this type.
Following the recommendations of the inquest, some changes were made. Speed limits for streetcars
were enforced, and easily accessible emergency door releases were installed on all exits to all
streetcars. Bars were removed from some windows, and removable window frames were added to others.
It was recommended that flagmen be given new highly-visible uniforms, and that drivers be
required to pass a routine medical exam to ensure that they were fit and well.
These changes were just some of those recommended by the inquest.
More might have been done but for the fact that the era of streetcars was coming to an end. In the
years following the accident Green Hornets began to disappear from the streets of Chicago, replaced
by cheaper and more efficient motor buses. By 1955 almost the entire fleet had been decommissioned.
With the disappearance of the Green Hornets the horror of the accident faded from the minds of
the public. Today the Green Hornet Streetcar Crash is a barely remembered part of Chicago's
long history. The intersection where the collision took place is unmarked and unremarkable. Thousands
pass through this junction every day inside safe, modern motor vehicles - unaware entirely
that they are passing the site of the worst public transit disaster in Chicago history.