In this issue, we dive into three different stories about big Union Pacific steam locomotives, including the largest of them all, “Big Boy” 4014. Given their size and their histories, you may be tempted to wonder what it might be like to own your own steam engine, and take it on adventures across the continent. Of course, there have always been a lucky few who lived such a dream. Some, such as Doyle McCormack and the Daylight 4449, were railroaders who were drawn into the world of steam preservation. Others, such as the UK’s Alan Pegler, who bought the Flying Scotsman and sent it around the world on tour, were wealthy businessmen who used their money to live out childhood fantasies. But what if you have neither luck nor wealth?
Consider the case of Ward Kimball, an animator at the Walt Disney Company. In the late 1930s, Kimball bought Nevada Central 2, a small, 2-6-0 narrow gauge locomotive that was due to be scrapped. The cost for the 1881 Baldwin was only $400 (about $8,000 today). Kimball spent five years restoring the locomotive in his backyard. Today, the 2 is in the care of the Southern California Railroad Museum in Perris.
Or consider the Eureka, an 1875-built Baldwin 4-4-0 that originally served on Nevada’s Eureka & Palisade. After retirement, the Eureka spent several decades as a Hollywood movie prop, then as an amusement park decoration. In the mid-1980s, a Las Vegas lawyer named Dan Markoff purchased the locomotive from a closed theme park and it became the ultimate father-son restoration project, debuting in operational condition at the 1991 Railfair in Sacramento, Calif. Given the small size, Markoff transports the locomotive from place to place on a trailer, and between occasional appearances on various heritage railways, it lives in a purpose-built shed at his home.
Such questions become ever more realistic when you look smaller still. For example, consider Sandy River Railroad 5, an 0-4-4T built by the Portland Locomotive Works in 1891. Weighing in at just 18 tons, this engine was built for the two-foot gauge systems of rural Maine, and served for several decades (and several companies). Its final operator was Wiscasset, Waterville & Farmington as WW&F 9. In the late 1930s, WW&F sold the engine to private collector Frank Ramsdell, and for almost half a century, the engine sat in his yard in Connecticut, the ultimate example of railroadiana and lawn art combined. After Frank’s death, his daughter Alice kept the engine, and when she died in the 1990s, it was reacquired by the revived WW&F, now a heritage line. What’s remarkable about these two-footers is their diminutive scale, which makes them only slightly larger than today’s heavy-duty pickup trucks.
Of course, the problem with buying your own engine is storage. Locomotives, much like old cars or wooden sailboats, are machines made to move, and need that movement to distribute lubrication and prevent corrosion. Kimball solved this by building a 900-foot stretch of track in his backyard, while Markoff uses a trailer to haul the Eureka around for occasional operating visits. Put another way, buying a locomotive means, inevitably, wondering if you can buy (or build) a railroad, too, and, well… tell your children I’m sorry about their inheritance.
—Alexander Benjamin Craghead is a transportation historian, photographer, artist, and author.
