"It was nearing midnight, or maybe after, when Georgene and
I heard a terrible and unusual noise that seemed to have a connection with
the train coming into town from the north. We were in the upstairs bedroom
of our house which was 4 doors west of the tracks, on the north side of
Commercial Avenue. Expecting the worst, I watched in awe at the terrible
spectacle at the crossing. The loud crashes, boxcars, gondolas and tank
cars flying into the air like toys, the fireworks caused by the broken
cables as they twirled and twisted in the air over the terrible mess.
Fire broke out over most of the pile of wreckage. Alcohol and
other flammable liquids burned high into the air. Some of the alcohol flowing
east on the street, burning like a wall of fire in front of the stores
on Commercial Avenue. Some of the fluid ran into the storm drains, resulting
in explosions and flowing into nearby Cedar Creek. With the flames upon
the water down stream, it looked like the whole downtown was burning.
Fire departments from many towns answered the call, including
that of Gary. They were the only department close which had foam available
to combat the burning alcohol.
After those few minutes, or seconds, of watching from my bedroom
window, I hurried down to the scene to see if I could be of any help. One
automobile had been sitting at the crossing or come from the west. He and
I were the only ones there for a short time. Another vehicle with a lady
driving approached from the west, saw there was danger and quickly put
her car in reverse and speed backwards, very fast.
My first thought, on seeing that the old depot had been demolished
by the crash, was to see about the men in the engines. I thought perhaps
the big diesels were buried under the mess near the Legion grounds. Looking
south, down the tracks, I saw the lights of the engines which had broken
off from the cars. Then, I saw two figures coming north with a lantern.
It was the engine crew. Because I happened to be carrying a railroad lantern
and wearing my work hat, they thought I was from the caboose. They asked,
"How is everything back there?" Flames were high by then and
it was hard to go north along the burning wreckage with rail cars piled
five high. I took them through the nearby lumberyard to the caboose, which
had come to a stop just south of the Main Street crossing. We found the
caboose dark and empty. The crew had gone to call for assistance and were
found later unharmed.
The fire departments worked through the morning to put out the
flames and watch for any possible explosions. They were served hot coffee
and sandwiches by many townspeople, who quickly organized a small kitchen
even in the morning drizzle.
Crowds soon gathered on both sides of the tracks. When the flames
were gone, many townspeople were seen carrying canned hams and other meat
products, including Spam. Some were seen laboring under the weight of a
"half a cattle", meat that could have been tainted with alcohol.
Others were seen rolling 100 nail kegs down the alley to their cars.
Newsmen and photographers descended upon Lowell and set up their
phoning headquarters in a nearby filling station as well as at several
homes around the area.
Returning from work, in Griffith, driving down Route 41 the following
day, I was amazed to see all the traffic on the highway. They followed
me into Lowell to see the big wreck, which happened during Lowell's Centennial
year of 1952.
The site of the wreck remained a terrible mess for weeks after
the wreck. After the cars were removed, sand and lime were brought in and
applied to try and cover the stench made from all the rotting meat and
fluids spilled from the tank cars. The smell, or stench, lingered on.
The citizens of Lowell were thankful that there was no greater
damage, or that no one was injured that wet morning in 1952. Huge scars
still remain on the ties where the freight car had dragged a set of wheels."
The following was taken from the Lowell, Three Creeks
Bicentennial Booklet.
"Mr. (Harold) Love, (now deceased) also recalls May 22, 1952,
when the Loves were awakened by the derailment of thirty cars on the Monon
tracks at Commercial Avenue. The town's business section was threatened
when burning alcohol flowed down the streets and into the gutters. A number
of manhole covers were blown into the air when the liquid exploded. Firemen
from eight surrounding communities fought the flames which at times leaped
to a height of 40 feet. Harold, who lived in the first house west of the
Mobile station, was very busy with a garden hose on top of the station
keeping the flames under control. Many area residents left the locality
fearing the whole town would burn."
