Northern Virginia, particularly around Dulles Airport, isn’t winning any awards for scenic beauty. The area feels culturally barren, a far cry from its historical significance during the Civil War. Glimpses of nature – a dilapidated barn, a startled deer – are poignant reminders of what’s been lost to development and sprawling highways. It’s a landscape of melancholy, a stark contrast to the promise of escape.
Escape was precisely what I was after. Trading the barstool at O’Malley’s for a train seat, I was embarking on the Amtrak Crescent, heading south to New Orleans. This wasn’t just a trip; it was a journey back in time, retracing routes traveled for nearly a century and a half.
For those who know me, my penchant for train nostalgia is no secret. Childhood memories of waving at train engineers have evolved into an adult appreciation, albeit tinged with lament. While freight rail thrives, passenger service in the US feels like a relic. It’s almost as if more people are familiar with the “Crazy Train” ringtone than have actually experienced the rhythm of the rails.
Flying, once novel, is now a necessary chore. Driving? More like a highway hypnosis simulator. Neither compares to the romance of the rails, a mode of transport largely absent from my adult life until recently. A friend’s enthusiastic account of their Crescent trip rekindled my interest. It was time to rediscover the simple joy of train travel.
The Crescent’s heritage stretches back to Christmas Day, 1830. In Charleston, South Carolina, a mere two decades after Napoleon’s European conquests, America’s first regular passenger rail service began. The “Best Friend of Charleston,” a rudimentary steam engine resembling a giant barbecue smoker, chugged along at a groundbreaking 25 mph. This pioneering spirit, however, was short-lived; a boiler explosion the following July gave us the term “trainwreck” – still apt for describing disasters both literal and figurative.
Image alt text: The Best Friend of Charleston locomotive, a historic early American steam engine, highlighting its primitive design and significance in early rail travel.
The Best Friend’s route was a mere six miles, but it was the precursor to a vast network. The Richmond & Danville Railroad (R&D), from 1847 to 1894, absorbed hundreds of smaller lines. The R&D played a crucial, if ultimately tragic, role in the Civil War, serving as the Confederacy’s final supply artery. Though战火-ravaged, it rebounded, becoming a rail behemoth east of the Mississippi, boasting 3,300 miles of track across nine states. In 1870, the R&D launched passenger service between New York and New Orleans, the “Piedmont Air Line,” supposedly whisking passengers between cities in a mere 58 hours. By the 1890s, rapid expansion led to financial collapse, receivership, and eventual acquisition by Southern Railway. Southern Railway continued the route, renaming it first the Crescent, and later the Southern Crescent.
The Southern Crescent wasn’t just a train; it was an icon. Before interstate highways and affordable air travel, rail was the civilized way to travel long distances, and Southern Railway spared no expense. The Crescent offered a travel experience akin to the golden age of air travel, with dining cars rivaling fine restaurants, club cars, observation domes, and even library cars. It’s a stark contrast to today’s utilitarian view of transport, where efficiency trumps experience. Back then, the train wasn’t just transit; it was a destination in itself.
The forest green Ps-4 locomotives that powered the Crescent from the mid-1920s to the early 1950s were a sight to behold. Engine 1401, now residing in the Smithsonian, dominates transportation exhibits, a relic of a bygone era of industrial might. Unlike today’s streamlined, functional diesel engines, these steam locomotives were raw power made visible. Exposed machinery, massive spoked wheels, and intricate pipework spoke of engineering prowess and brute force. While their environmental impact is undeniable (16 tons of coal per 150 miles!), their industrial grandeur is undeniable.
Image alt text: Southern Railway Ps-4 1401 steam locomotive, showcasing its powerful design, large driving wheels, and intricate steam mechanisms, a symbol of classic American railroading.
This very engine even hauled Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s funeral train. It’s an era removed from our own. Imagine a modern-day tycoon, desiring a similarly grand send-off – a final journey across the nation aboard such a magnificent machine.
I won’t delve into the complex mergers that consolidated freight rail into the Norfolk Southern and CSX duopoly. Nor will I dwell on passenger rail’s decline, except to say that despite criticisms aimed at Amtrak, its existence is a lifeline. It’s the NEA of transportation, preserving a uniquely American mode of travel that the relentless marketplace might otherwise obliterate.
But what is the true value of this preservation? That’s what this Crescent journey aimed to uncover.
Washington D.C. was our starting point. New York was an alternative, but this was a journey into the heart of the South. While the Northeast Corridor and parts of California embrace rail, the South’s relationship is more complex. Despite its unexpected role in “Atlas Shrugged,” rail seems counter to the Southern ethos of individualism, from states’ rights rhetoric to modern libertarianism. Trains are communal by nature, passengers bound together, sharing meals and close quarters (save for the pricey sleeper cars). Rail was once the region’s circulatory system, but now, it’s largely vanished. Perhaps Southern individualism made the region fertile ground for car culture.
Regardless, D.C. it was, with New Orleans as the final stop. Along the route, we’d pause in Danville, Virginia, and Meridian, Mississippi. These weren’t arbitrary choices; both cities hold significant places in the Crescent’s narrative. They offer a glimpse into the modern reality of this historic rail line, a story that will unfold as we travel.
My companion for this journey was Artem Nazarov, a gifted photographer with a shared fondness for unpretentious motels and good beer. Artem possesses a remarkable ability to connect with people, and his energy, fueled by copious amounts of coffee, is boundless. His Russian origin is often the first thing people notice, but he uses curiosity to his advantage, getting close with his camera to capture his distinctive, almost otherworldly images. With Artem alongside, story hunting became an adventure I was eager to begin.
