Warrensburg Latham High School - Cardinal Yearbook (Warrensburg, IL)

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How the “Lucy Dale” Bridge Got its Name Flossie Haywood, 22 in the spring of 1880 a very severe series of rainstorms, that lasted for da.ys and days, swept over the country surrounding Peoria. The storms swelled the rivers and creeks until they overflowed, washing everything before their swollen currents and threatening the very existence of every bridge. Mr. Dale, a section foreman on the Illinois Central Railway, in the state of Illinois, was kept very busy watching the rise of waters between the two towns in his section of the line and inspecting the railway bridges. On the evening of April 20, the storm had seemed to reach the climax of its fury. The wind howled around the cottage, which was built high on the bank of the Illinois river at a spot overlooking the railway. The rain pelted on the roof and as the dark, moonless night came on, occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the trees, the raging waters, and the long bridge built on trestles over the ravine. Lucy, the beautiful sixteen year old daughter of Mr. Dale, standing at the window, was a spectator of this terrible storm. She thought of her father out in the storm—exposed to the wind and rain. Then her imagination traveled on and on in an endless train of hideous sights. She knew by heart the times of all the trains, and swiftly her thoughts flew to the oncoming “Express,” always so full of passengers. She pictured the train falling through the bridge, down, down, thirty feet into the foaming chasm below. She imagined she could almost see the white faces of gasping, struggling people in those muddy, raging depths—and could even hear their faint cries for help above the noise of the shrieking wind and the roaring water. She awoke from her trance with a thrill of terror that seemed to chill the marrow of her very bones. She felt she could endure the uncertainty no longer, and that she simply must go to find her father, and see if she could not be of help to him in some way. With an encouraging word to her troubled mother and frightened sister, she began making her preparations to go. She put on a large coat, lighted a lantern, opened the cottage door and stepped out. Even though the wind almost blew her away, and the rain beat against her face, she braced herself against all difficulties and slowly made her way westward toward the long trestle bridge. When Lucy leached the nearer end of the bridge, she saw that the swollen river, tearing under the arches, thirty feet below, was momentarily threatening to undermine the foundations of the bridge. As she proceeded over the bridge, she began to feel the structure sway under her own weight. She knew it would only be the lapse of a few moments until 29

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“No, I couldn’t think of accepting money for a little act of human kindness. But how you have changed. You don’t look like the same man.” “Well, I have tried to make myself look a little more presentable, and am glad if I have succeeded. But I wish you would take this money,” the man answered, offering her a dollar bill. “Oh, I couldn’t think of it, and besides, it wasn’t worth that much,” said Miss Mary. “At least allow me to thank you. I believe you saved me from starving, that day. But I won’t bother you any longer; good day,” and he started toward the road. Miss Mary turned away, thinking to herself: “How like Dick he looked, and yet, it couldn’t be he, for surely I haven’t changed so much that he wouldn’t recognize me.” Puzzling over this, she failed to notice that the man met at the gate with Alice, who had just come home from school, which she was now regularly attending. The child gave one look at the man, and then threw herself upon him, crying “Papa, papa!” He looked at her in perplexity and said, “Oh, no; I’m not your papa. I haven’t any little girl.” “Oh, yes, you are. Don’t you remember how we were riding on a train and it turned over?” He pressed his hand over his forehead and stood silent for a moment, lost in thought. Then he said, “Oh, yes, it all comes back to me now. Oh, my dear little Alice! to think I had forgotten all about you!” “Come into the house and let’s tell Aunt Mary all about it,” said she, taking him by the hand and leading him in. What a scene there was then! Explanations were made, forgiveness established on both sides and time was forgotten. Dick, in answer to Miss Mary’s question as to what he had been doing for the last fifteen years, told his story: “When I left you I was very angry, for I thought you were in the wrong. I went to Chicago and tried to lose myself in that great city and forget you. In a fit of resentment I married a girl whom I met there. I never really loved her, but she was a good wife to me. Our first child, a boy, died, and three years ago she died, leaving me little Alice, then about three and a half. But the thot of you haunted me continually. I wanted to come back, but feared you would still be angry and unforgiving. “But at last I could stand it no longer, and was on my way when, as you know, the train was wrecked. I received a blow on the head which destroyed my memoiy. I could remember nothing of my past life. I became a tramp, roaming about the country, and doing odd jobs to pay for my meals. You know the rest, how my memory came back with the sight of Alice.” The couple were married soon after, and their happiness was all the sweeter for the delay. 28

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some of the foundations would be undermined by the fierce, raging tempest below. She also realized there was not a moment to be lost if that oncoming “Express” was to be stopped before it reached those swaying trestles. Plans flashed like lightning through her mind. There was no way but one to stop that fast approaching train. She herself, must cross the bridge and give the warning at Peoria station so that the “Express” could be stopped. No sooner had she fully realized the danger to the many lives, than without thought of her own risk, she set out on her perilous crossing. A mighty purpose filled her soul—her one idea was to save the lives of the people in that oncoming train. She crept along on the tottering structure. Sometimes the gusting wind nearly blew her over. All of a sudden there was a sharp clap of thunder, followed by an instantaneous streak of lightning. The light in the lantern flickered, flashed, and then vanished. The useless lantern was thrown away, and Lucy made progress very slowly thru the inky blackness of the night. The distance across that perilous bridge seemed to Lucy Dale as many miles, and that she was hours in getting across. She had to feel her way very carefully, mostly crawling on her hands and knees. Now and then a vivid flash of lightning lighted up the cross-ties of the bridge and the rails in front. She could see the foaming waters between the gaps. But she dared not look down; the swirling waters made her giddy. A sharp peal of thunder seemed to make the whole fragile structure tremble, but Lucy proceeded in a daze. The brave girl was gaining, foot by foot; slowly and painfully she struggled on —creeping, crawling, springing over the gaps, and then lying flat when a fierce gust of wind threatened to hurl her into the foaming depths below. Her body was bruised and cut, her clothes were torn, yet she made headway. Now and then there were places—gaps like yawning chasms, that she was forced to spring across. Always there was a prayer for help on her lips. At last she reached the end and with a cry of thankfulness Lucy felt once again the firm ground. She was exhausted by her perilous journey over the swaying trestles—yet she dared not stop and listen, because one second could not be lost if she was to reach her goal. She struggled breathlessly onward—stumbling now and then, only to get to her feet and rush on again. Sometimes the poor girl felt she must give way under the tremendous strain of running in the wind and rain, along the rough track—but then the thought of the many lives in danger strengthened her sinking courage and nerved her to fresh effort. The mighty purpose which filled her soul was her goal. At last Lucy saw in the distance the lights of Peoria station, and then with a thrill of joy she discovered beyond it the bright headlight of an engine. It was the “Express”! Every second the round eye was growing bigger. Panting and stumbling—hardly able to drag 30