By Brian Roulston
Hamilton had never known a darker Christmas than Tuesday, December 25, 1934. It was a frosty -2°C day 90 years ago. As the clock struck 9:21 p.m., fate orchestrated the most devastating train collision since the Desjardins Canal Disaster, which killed 57 passengers on March 12, 1857.
It happened above the quaint valley town of Dundas on the Canadian National (CN) Rail Line out of Hamilton. Yet, eerily, the town’s residents never heard a sound.
The two trains involved were CN Locomotive No.16, known as the “Maple Leaf Flyer,” travelling eastward from Chicago to Montreal, and the eastbound CN Railway passenger extra 5300, dubbed the “Christmas Express.” The latter departed from the CN Station on James Street North, heading to Toronto via London, Ontario, carrying weary holiday passengers. Most passengers were heading home after celebrating Christmas with family and friends in the city.
A few minutes into the Express’ journey, the locomotive experienced a ‘hot crank pin.’ The crank pin functions like the pedal on a bicycle, connecting the piston’s motion to the wheels’ rotation. When the piston moves down, it turns the crank pin, which drives the wheels. A hot crank pin can become a severe mechanical issue. Stopping the train is mandatory in this situation. Suppose the problem is left unchecked or not fixed. In that case, it can lead to increased friction, causing wear and tear, potentially reducing the engine’s efficiency, leading to difficulties in generating the required power, and impacting the train’s performance. In the worst-case scenario, it could cause the engine to seize, and the train would come to a sudden halt, injuring passengers. It could trigger other engine failures, derail the train, or even result in an accident.
The Christmas Express was diverted onto a side track or sider. A sider is a low-speed section of track alongside the main railway line. It’s used for storing stationary trains and box cars, loading/unloading, or allowing trains to pass each other. The sider was located a few hundred meters short of Dundas Station.
Upon the Christmas Express coming to a stop, Rear-end Brakeman E. Phelps swiftly and accurately set and locked the main line switch, which would change the signal lights of the Dundas Station and the one located 2 ½ miles out from red to green. This change in lights would serve as a clear signal to any approaching trains that the ‘Express’ was clear from the main line, ensuring their safe passage past the temporarily stopped Hamilton locomotive.
Upon inspection, Conductor M. Cherry, who has the final say, and several train crew members acted quickly. They decided it would be best to order a replacement locomotive. Front Brakeman Edward Lynch, a 16-year railway employee who had been busy tending to some passengers, joined the meeting at the last minute as the decision was made. The conductor then instructed Lynch to walk to the station and wire ahead for the replacement locomotive to meet them further up the track at Bayview Station.
The odd snowflake drifted down from the moonless night sky as Lynch walked over the lightly snow-covered tracks toward the station. Lynch assumed the Christmas Express was stopped on the main track and could see the lights of the Maple Leaf Flyer hurtling towards him at full throttle about 1500 metres (a mile) off in the distance. He sprinted down the track, waving his lantern, desperately trying to catch the Flyer’s attention. But his efforts were futile. With the Flyer now only 800 metres away and rolling, Lynch frantically raced to the switch and moved it in a last-ditch attempt to avert disaster.
Thinking he had avoided a potential tragedy, Lynch breathed a sigh of relief and started towards the station again as the Flyer raced past him. Seconds later, he heard the crash up the track but thought nothing of it; perhaps the Flyer had hit some empty box cars left on the sider. However, when he got to the station, someone informed him that the Flyer had rammed into the Christmas Express. Lynch immediately returned and spent the remainder of the night helping injured passengers.
The Flyer hit the last car of the Express, a steel Pullman, with such force that its twisted sides lay alongside the track, and its top ended up on top of the Maple Leaf Flyer’s engine. This car sustained the most casualties. The second car, a Pullman, looked like an accordion driven into the third car from the back. That car, a wooden day car, was splintered against the tinder. A fourth wooden car received minor damage and was where most survivors were. One of the cars was pushed to the brink of a 46-meter cliff, roughly the same height as a 4-story building overlooking Hamilton Bay.
Bert Burrell, the engineer of the Red Flyer, was credited with his quick thinking before crashing into the Express. The second he realized he was going to ram the Express, he threw on the brakes, thus slowing them down. Those seconds were crucial to his passengers’ survivability. The Flyer’s engine still hit hard, but not as hard as it would’ve been hadn’t it been for his actions. While the Flyer’s steel snoot was severely crushed, one of the passengers commented that there was only a slight jolt, and the lights flickered.
The call came, and within minutes, several railway workers from the station, two doctors and a veterinary doctor/surgeon from Dundas were applying first aid to passengers. Rescue operations were slow due to the darkness, with only dimly lit flashlights and flares to rely on. Eventually, more and better lighting was brought up, which speeded things up.
Meanwhile, four nurses were sitting at the table enjoying a game of gin and chatting in Hamilton when they received a telephone call for cars to take passengers to the General Hospital at Victoria and Barton Streets. Without hesitation, uniforms or medical equipment, they made their way to the crash site. They administered first aid throughout the night—the first auxiliary train, which was essentially baggage cars with more wounded, left for Hamilton around 2:00 a.m.
Hamilton’s General Hospital was experiencing a staff shortage due to the holidays, so it was forced to call in more help. Twenty-one doctors and 16 nurses answered the call. At first, the injured trickled in. Soon, the corridors were filled, and the hospital became a place of mass confusion, with people coming in trying to find out the status of their friends and family. Six passengers were also sent to Toronto for treatments and another six, the lightly injured passengers, were sent to the Royal Connaught Hotel to recuperate.
Because Dundas’ morgue wasn’t big enough to handle the bodies, the basement of the newly built Dundas District School just down the road was used as a temporary morgue. In the days immediately following the crash, friends and families came to view and identify their loved ones. Many of the bodies were barely recognizable. In all, 15 people, five females and 10 males, were killed and 31 injured.
Hamilton’s Chief of Police, Lumsden, stated that the accident sight was the worst he’d ever seen in his lifetime.
Once rescue operations were over, an army of volunteers, and railroad staff working in shifts gathered wood from the wrecked cars and made a bright orange fire that glowed over the Dundas Valley. Heavy cranes were brought in from London and Hamilton to move the locomotives. The track was unharmed, but the cost of the three damaged cars was estimated at $60,000; the price does not include the engines.
CN Rail officials, the Ontario Provincial Police, and the Dominion Board of Railway Commissioners, a precursor to the Transportation Safety Board of Canada, conducted four separate investigations. Hamilton’s Chief Coroner S. Horner Mullin also began investigating the incident. Ultimately, Bert Lynch was cleared of all charges because there was no malicious intent, and he was trying to prevent a disaster.
On an up note, there was a collective sigh of relief the next day. Puffy, a Persian cat belonging to Mrs. McCracken of Chatham, was aboard the Express. A search for Puffy ended in fear, with him being assumed deceased. But the next day, he was found alive and well, albeit a little peeved about using up all of his nine lives the night before. In all the excitement that night, he was unknowingly transported to Toronto aboard an auxiliary train inside a club bag. Mrs. McCracken was overjoyed with her little Christmas miracle, the safe return of her beloved Puffy.
Merry Christmas to all the Breezes readers! I hope 2025 brings happiness and prosperity to everyone in the new year.
