On the 24th of March, 1972, a school bus fully laden with children approached the Gilchrest
Road railroad crossing just outside Congers, New York.
A momentary lapse in judgment or attention would ultimately rob many of those on board
of their futures, in one of the worst grade crossing accidents in American history.
Railroads have played a vital part in the transportation industry of the United States
for over two centuries.
They crisscross the country, serving various industries and towns with freight and passenger
services.
With the invention of the automobile around 1904, a new method of traveling and shipping
freight emerged.
Soon, this lead to conflict between the two mediums: roadways and railways had to cross
one another at various points.
There were several solutions to this problem.
In some cases bridges were built over tracks, or tunnels dug below them.
Each solution came with advantages and disadvantages, but by far the easiest and most cost-effective
way to handle the problem was to do neither, and instead have a road cross over rails on
the same level.
Of course, wherever this was done, warning systems were put in place to control the flow
of automobile traffic and prevent cars and trains from colliding.
The most common warning system consisted of a yellow advanced warning sign, then a cross-shaped
sign or “crossbuck”, which can be equipped with lights, bells, and gates.
Some railroad crossings have all of these things, and some – usually those that see
less traffic – may only have one or two.
In all cases, though, trains have the right of way, and it is the responsibility of the
driver of the automobile to be vigilant and yield at the railroad crossing if necessary.
On the morning on the 24th of March, 1972, Nyack High School bus number 596 was making
its daily rounds, picking up students to take to school, just as it had for many years.
At the wheel was 35-year-old Joseph Larkin, a New York City firefighter working part-time
as a bus driver to supplement his income.
That morning the bus was unusually crowded, with around seven students standing in the
aisles.
In total, there were 48 passengers on the bus.
Larkin began making his way to Nyack High School, following a route he had driven without
incident hundreds of times before.
Passing through Clarkstown, he was forced to take a detour due to construction work
that blocked this familiar route.
This detour took the bus onto Gilchrest Road, which crosses over a single railroad track.
The crossing was equipped with an advanced warning sign, but was only protected by a
crossbuck, without gates, lights, or bells.
At 7:55am, Larkin drove the bus up to the crossing.
Before proceeding, he should have slowed to a stop and opened the door of the bus to look
and listen for approaching trains.
But, for whatever reason, he did not do this, and instead proceeded.
At this time, coming around the bend to the right of the bus was Penn Central train WV-1
with 83 freight cars and a caboose, destined for the nearby Selkirk Yard.
On board, engineer Charles Carpenter sounded the horn as was required whenever approaching
a level crossing.
If Larkin heard the horn, he did not react.
He continued to drive the bus across the tracks, only slowing as the vehicle encountered a
slight incline.
On board the train, Engineer Carpenter saw the bus ahead of the train and immediately
applied the brakes.
It was too late.
His brakeman, George Gray, later said to a reporter:
“I will never forget the faces of the children framed in the windows of the bus, with their
mouths open, just before the impact.”
Meanwhile, student Kathy Hart would later describe the experience of being on board
that bus:
“We were cruising along, everybody was just talking.
I was sitting probably in the middle of the bus on the left-hand side, not the side the
train hit.
We started going down that road where the train tracks were – it was all open fields
– and we were all saying, 'Oh, man, a train's coming.
We're going to be late to class.'
We started to accelerate…
The last thing I really remember was that big, huge, white light on the train and that
grinding noise, like it was trying to brake.
I put my head on my lap and said, 'Dear God, please don't let me die.’”
While the train was not travelling particularly fast – around 40 kilometers per hour (or
25 miles per hour), the weight of its many carriages meant that it could not come to
a stop at short notice.
The results were catastrophic.
The bus was ripped in half, and several students fell through the gap and underneath the train.
The train itself ploughed on, dragging the front half of the bus with it, for another
340 meters (or 1,116 feet) before finally coming to a stop.
The rear of the bus had become detached from the rest of the bus and flipped upside down,
crushing a number of students within.
In the immediate aftermath, there was chaos.
Thousands of pieces of paper, thrown from the bus, filled the air above the crash site.
Nearby residents who heard the crash rushed out and began to provide what help they could.
Local resident Joan Fitzgerald was one of the first to reach the scene.
She later told CBS News:
“Well, I went out there to help, of course, after I called the police.
Papers flying, my daughter remembers the papers flying.
[We pulled] them to safety and evaluated their injuries, making splints out of whatever we
could find…”
Police, firefighters, and paramedics from six different departments – including many
volunteers – arrived shortly thereafter, to be greeted by a traumatizing scene.
Dozens of students lay along the railroad tracks with various injuries.
Police Chief William Collins would go on to say:
“I remember the panic that happened when the reports started coming in.
At first, we didn't realize how bad it was until the first officers started arriving
at the scene…
We had a lot of tough old-timers, hard as nails.
The sight of those kids was too much.
Guys were sitting in front of their lockers crying and letting their emotions catch up
to them…”
In total, three students were killed, having been caught underneath the train.
They were seventeen-year-old Jimmy McGuiness, eighteen-year-old Richard Macaylo, and fourteen-year-old
Bobby Mauterer.
Fourteen-year-old Thomas Grosse and sixteen-year-old Stephan Ward would later die in hospital as
a result of injuries sustained.
The remaining 45 students and the bus driver were injured, but survived.
This did not, of course, mean that their lives were not changed by the disaster.
Many suffered permanent injuries, including the loss of limbs.
In the aftermath of the disaster there was a great deal of anger and questioning.
Why hadn’t the bus driver stopped for the crossing?
What had gone wrong?
How could this be prevented from happening again?
These were questions the National Transportation Safety Board hoped to answer.
After a thorough investigation, it was determined that the bus driver had failed to heed the
warning of the railroad crossing sign, had failed to stop and check for railroad traffic,
and had also failed to yield when the train sounded its horn.
Joseph Larkin claimed he did not see the train or hear its horn as he approached.
Nonetheless, it was noted, he should still have slowed down as he approached the crossing,
but it appeared that he had not done so.
The exact reason for this remains uncertain.
Some speculate that his desire to get his students to school on time played some part.
Regardless of the reason, Larkin was found responsible; and was deemed guilty of five
counts of criminally negligent homicide.
He was sentenced to five years probation and, by all accounts, lived the rest of his life
haunted by what he had done.
He died in 1998 at the age of 61.
Many changes resulted from the investigation.
The construction of the bus was found to be far from ideal – it was described as flimsier
than a commuter bus of equivalent size, with less protection for the occupants in the event
of a collision.
For this reason Nyack High School began replacing its fleet with busses of more sturdy, modern
construction.
Many other schools across the country followed their example.
Before the crash school buses were often driven by volunteers, or by people for whom driving
the bus was a second job, and who were thus not always professional drivers, nor specially
trained for the particular difficulties involved in driving a school bus.
After the crash, this gradually began to change, with bus drivers across the state required
to pass medical and competency exams each year.
The crossing was also upgraded with warning lights, gates and bells, and several trees
in the vicinity were removed to enhance visibility, making this particular crossing significantly
safer.
The Gilchrest Road crossing would never see another accident, but – unfortunately – this
would not be the last time that a school bus was in conflict with a train at a level crossing.
A plaque was installed the following year at the Congers Memorial Park in memory of
the five students killed in the disaster.
It reads, “In memory of our town’s most precious possessions – five of our youth.”