False Starts, Near Misses and Dangerous Goods

by Geoff Body

  The project was initiated by Sir Richard Cave, then a member of the BRB and also chairman of Thorne EMI, owner of the HMV record label, amongst others. Schwarzkopf’s late husband was Walter Legge, the classical record producer for EMI in post-war years. The project involved the naming ceremony in the morning and a special train for the Aldeburgh Festival opera-goers in the afternoon.

  This was to be a trial run to emulate Glyndebourne’s railway connection and I was well aware of the Glyndebourne arrangements from my days as operating officer on the Brighton line in the 1970s when I enjoyed the benefit of complimentary tickets for rehearsals.

  Come the day for our event, everything was organised. Schwarzkopf would arrive by air from Switzerland in the morning and a room was booked in the Great Eastern Hotel next to the station for her to change in.

  The plan was to hold a briefing in the banqueting room and then walk to platform 9 where the highly polished locomotive would be positioned and fitted with a small curtain over the new nameplate.

  A small rostrum was erected adjacent to the nameplate, with a public address microphone for the unveiling, speech and photographs, all to be followed by a champagne reception in the banqueting hall. In the afternoon the special train for Aldeburgh would be hauled by the newly named locomotive, with three guests and myself on board in addition to the regular opera-goers on their way to attend the evening performance of Benjamin Britten’s Albert Herring.

  We waited in the banqueting room for the diva to make her entrance. Her stepdaughter explained to me that her full title was Doctor (not Dame) Elisabeth Legge-Schwarzkopf. She entered right on time and I was able to brief her, although her command of English was not complete as her native language was German. I recalled that Walter Legge had arranged for her debut at Covent Garden, which did not suit her because operas there were then all performed in English. Our briefing became an occasion for replacing some words with those more easily understood and pronounced.

  All set, I put on my bowler hat and we proceeded with Sir Richard in elegant fashion across the old footbridge, only to stop at the top of the steps down to platform 9. Doctor Schwarzkopf had seen some of my cleaners busily sweeping the steps and exclaimed, ‘The dust! My throat!’ I promptly diverted my sweepers and we duly arrived at the rostrum beside the locomotive to a small crowd consisting of fans and passengers who applauded the diva’s arrival.

  I made an introduction and speeches were given; the little curtain was opened, revealing the brass nameplate, and the locomotive was named. I was later told that the microphone was not working because a tractor with a trolley full of mailbags had crossed and cut the cable – nobody noticed! Autographs were then signed and I assembled the party, with a few extra fans, to return across the footbridge to the hotel.

  On the way we were accosted by a man I recognised as Edward Greenfield, the music critic of the Guardian newspaper, who had recently purchased a town house in nearby Spitalfields. He and Schwarzkopf knew each other and he invited her to his house. To avoid the attempted hijack I explained the situation to him and invited him to accompany us to the reception.

  Aided by champagne, the reception went well. Schwarzkopf asked me about the bowler hat I wore and we rehearsed the pronunciation! She was about 69 then and had retired from public performance, holding master classes instead. In her conversation with Edward Greenfield she did express critical views on some of the younger singers of the day.

  Of course, I obtained her autograph and one of the fans asked to see it; it was large and formed in the shape of a heart. I was told that I was much favoured! With the performance over, the diva returned to her room and then began her journey back to Switzerland.

  It was during the reception that my operations assistant discreetly informed me of the bad news that we had no guard for the train. The good news for me was that there hadn’t been many advance bookings so we were able to accommodate them all in one carriage. An extra, very clean carriage was added to the rear of the then regular afternoon Lowestoft train, which was to be hauled by the newly named Aldeburgh Festival locomotive. Champagne was served en route. All would be well – and was!

  The poor bookings meant that the special train was not tried again. However, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf was created a Dame of the British Empire eight years later.

  NO. 1 PUMP HOUSE, SUDBROOK

  Geoff Body retains vivid memories of this building and the role it played in keeping the Severn Tunnel dry

  During my time as marketing and sales manager for the West of England Division, based at Bristol, I had the opportunity to visit the Severn Tunnel main pumping station at Sudbrook on the west bank of the Severn. After fourteen years of every conceivable kind of difficulty, the 4-mile, 628yd bore under the River Severn had been opened in 1886. Twice during the tunnel’s construction it was flooded when the ‘Great Spring’ broke in and an abnormal tidal wave drowned the workings on yet another occasion.

  Now well harnessed, the Great Spring still has to be managed and land water also drains into the tunnel from the surrounding land mass. There are five pumping shafts to contain this flow, which amounts to around 20 million gallons on an average day, but has risen as high as 29.5 million, and once much higher still.

  Originally the tunnel was kept dry by six 70in Cornish beam engines, with four smaller beam engines at two of the subsidiary shafts. I was never to see these monsters, nor the long bank of boilers which fed them, at work but they were still in position at the time of my visit. Far more impressive – and costly to operate – than the bank of electric impeller pumps which replaced them, the beam engines’ sheer size was magnificent, a feature that their modern replacements did not possess.

  The changeover from the traditional steam power for the massive beam engines and the huge fans which kept the tunnel ventilated, to the 3.300V electricity supply for impeller pumps and their attendant sensor equipment also gave the main pump house a new, modern control room where manager Bruce Pearce presided and acted as my tour guide. The whole function within this ugly, square No. 1 Pump House was impressive, but more sensations were to come via a quite ordinary door in a lower room that led directly to a walkway running down a long, narrow passage. Through the apertures in the latticed metal underfoot rushed the waters of the Great Spring, contained but intense, urgent and never ceasing or hesitating.

  The beams of the massive Cornish pumping engines in the Severn Tunnel’s No. 1 Pump House at Sudbrook.

  This row of boilers supplied steam for the Severn Tunnel pumping engines prior to their replacement by electric pumps.

  The end of the walkway led to another unassuming door. It opened on to the tunnel itself and the sheer presence of the bore was astonishing, which was heightened as passenger trains sped smoothly past or a long coal train out of Severn Tunnel Junction yard eased slightly after the descent from the Welsh end became the 1 in 100 climb out again.

  I had learned much of this major piece of civil engineering, including something about the task of its maintenance, from inside and above. I had also stood inside the bore and been able to get some understanding of what it might have been like when completely flooded back in 1880 and Diver Lambert had struggled through the sodden construction debris with untried breathing apparatus to turn off a critical valve.

  THE RAILWAY INSPECTORATE

  Bill Parker’s involvement with the Railway Inspectorate included key tunnel and level crossing events

  The Ministry of Transport Railway Inspectorate (HMRI) comprised senior Royal Engineers (RE) officers, all very competent in railway operations and engineering and who had been involved with the military railway depot at Longmoor. Formed in 1840 by the Board of Trade to investigate railway accidents and to approve new and important changes to the railways, its first accident inquiry was the train crash at Howden in that same year. Investigations were held in public and the detailed and uncompromising reports included the reasons for the accident and recommendations to avoid recurrences; the latter were accepted and applied b
y the railway companies.

  The Inspectorate ceased in 1990, its role taken over by the Health and Safety Executive (which itself was taken over by the Office of Rail Regulation), with the last RE officer retiring in 1988. For over thirty years I had the privilege and great pleasure of being associated with most of the officers of the Inspectorate, my first when I attended HMRI and BR meetings as a newly appointed junior member in the Eastern Region’s headquarters rules and regulations section in the early 1950s. The Divisional Assistant Operating Superintendents Gerry Fiennes and Jim Royston had decreed that new staff should attend formal meetings with the Inspectorate regarding operational matters, but just to listen and learn – not to speak unless invited to do so!

  I was to be the first member of staff under this arrangement. There was I, a young railwayman in my early 20s and a former lowly relief stationmaster and National Service NCO, surrounded by very senior engineers – a brigadier and a colonel, no less. They, much more than some of my railway colleagues, generously encouraged me to feel a member of the railway team, Brigadier Langley commenting humorously that they should watch their ways, as they had with them ‘a very young railwayman from the sharp-end’. And, looking at me, he added, ‘Over lunch you can tell me about all the rules you have broken up to now.’ Not likely, I thought, but how did he know!

  As London Euston divisional operating superintendent, I was next involved (along with IOs Colonel Robertson, Lieutenant Colonel McNaughton and Colonel Reed) in the 1960s inspection of the WCML electrified railway between Rugby and Euston and the power signal boxes at Euston, Willesden, Watford, Bletchley and Rugby. The former inspections were undertaken in the divisional saloon, propelled by a diesel locomotive.

  The inspections in the tunnels in the division intrigued me, particularly Kilsby (about 5 miles south of Rugby) and those approaching Euston. I had walked them all, accompanied by Divisional Civil Engineer Leslie Sloane, whose explanation of Kilsby’s history I especially recall. It was the longest tunnel in the network and was more expensive than forecast. It also took much longer to build than expected because of unexpected quicksands, which were not revealed in the trial borings, causing the tunnel roof to collapse and flood the tunnel. Sloane had stressed that it was a ‘very wet tunnel’ and insisted on our wearing extensive wet-weather clothing – from steel hat and waterproofs down to wellies. I still got very wet and dirty from the considerable and continuous falling muddy water but we were able to have early access to a relatively nearby hotel for a pint or two and a bath.

  This was almost a ‘full-frontal’ in tunnel-roof terms, especially when I ventured outside with IOs Colonel Robertson and Colonel Reed and was sprayed again by lots of dirty, muddy water; I was invited to scoop some of the mud off the tunnel roof to appreciate the very real maintenance problems. I became very sympathetic for the local permanent way and electrical overhead equipment staff. The air vents were included in our tour and I saw the upper structures later from the M45 looking like Martello towers and quite out of keeping in a field of animals!

  The inspections of the power signal boxes were fascinating, as was a totally different association with Colonel Reed involving the ‘in-public inspection’ of the auto-barrier crossing near Lidlington on the Bedford–Bletchley line, which required approval by him. This installation was one of the first of its kind on the network and such a completely new-style level crossing – unmanned and without gates – was an extremely sensitive change and understandably engendered serious local concern. We expected a ‘rough ride’ at the meeting of some sixty or so members of the public, comprising local village people, school teachers, councillors and their senior staff from local authorities and a strong media presence. Everyone was either opposed to the change or very wary of it.

  The ventilation shafts for Kilsby Tunnel are topped by round castellated towers. (Bill Parker)

  After introductions and my brief explanation, demonstrations followed of the operation of the flashing lights and warning bells – and the flashing ‘second train coming’ – all of which were given practical expression by means of specially arranged train movements simulating real, live situations. These operations were supported by frequent verbal explanations by my technical colleagues and myself.

  These demonstrations lasted for almost 90 minutes and many questions inevitably followed. Some were hard-hitting, alleging the indifferent attitude of the railway management and the government’s Ministry of Transport (MoT) to the safety of the public – children, the elderly and handicapped, vehicles and their drivers and passengers etc. Moreover, despite the accuracy, honesty, firmness and sensitivity of our answers, some scepticism and the occasional vitriolic comment still continued from a few of the more argumentative members of the public. On the whole, the questions were relevant and well balanced, but people were genuinely frightened of this new-fangled piece of unmanned equipment.

  Throughout the meeting, Colonel Reed held it together in a firm but most charming way and invited me to go through all the publicity efforts we had made to explain the changes and reassure everyone affected. It became clear to him that the consultation had reached its finality and, in a most diplomatic, sensitive and understanding manner, he obtained confirmation from those present that they had received and understood everything BR had done and the vital importance of always responding to the lights and bells. On that note, he concluded by saying he was satisfied with the comprehensive and detailed actions BR had undertaken and that he formally approved the introduction of the auto-barrier crossing. He also confirmed that I had arranged for a crossing keeper to remain at the crossing in an advisory capacity for six months.

  After over 100 years of manned gates which encompassed the whole width of the roadway, this new installation involved a complete change in level-crossing operation. Thankfully my regular reports of the operation of the barriers etc. by the temporary crossing keepers and regular visits by my DIs and senior managers, including myself, indicated successful and safe operations by the public and all road users.

  RAILWAY INSPECTORATE INQUIRIES

  Bill Parker was also involved with the Railway Inspectorate in the course of three specific accident investigations

  Fortunately I had to manage only three accidents at which a public MoT inquiry had to be held. The first two associations were with Colonel Reed in the 1960s when I was London Euston divisional operating superintendent.

  During the modernisation of the southern end of the WCML, a contractor’s crane working on the Up lines near Hemel Hempstead and, holding a length of track in a suspended position, fell forward and hit the side and roof of two coaches of an Up main-line express passenger train, which was fortunately passing very slowly on the Down main line during single-line working (SLW). Two coaches were derailed and about fifty passengers were injured, fortunately not seriously. The cause was established as a metal fracture on the crane.

  My other involvement with Colonel Reed was on the Midland Main Line when a bogie wheel on a passenger carriage of an Up main-line express passenger train fractured as it passed over a series of points at West Hampstead and caused several coaches to be derailed. The train was slowing down approaching St Pancras, and although the track and coach damage was extensive, fortunately there were few passenger casualties, with only one young lady being retained in hospital. As it was a few days before Christmas, I had the pleasant duty of taking her flowers and chocolates. The cause of this accident was clearly a metal fault in the bogie wheel.

  The third accident for which a public MoT inquiry was held was several years later when I was Birmingham assistant divisional manager and acting divisional operating superintendent. The Up line 2.15 p.m. four-car electric multiple unit (EMU) from Wolverhampton High Level station ran headlong into a diesel locomotive hauling a Down line freight train of thirty-two loaded steel wagons from Chesterfield. The freight train was moving slowly on the Down line under clear signals and was about to cross from the Down line, over the Up line and into an Up-side steel rail
head at Monmore Green, Wolverhampton.

  The EMU, travelling at 45mph, collided head-on with the front of the diesel locomotive and rose upwards into the 25KV overhead-line equipment. There was extensive damage to the locomotive and its 500-gallon fuel tank, resulting in a severe fire. Several of the steel wagons were also damaged. Very sadly, both drivers were killed and thirty-two passengers were injured, but no one was detained in hospital. The second man, on seeing the approaching EMU, was able to jump from the cab and suffered only minor injuries.

  At that time there was a track circuit failure which caused the first colour light signal to be held at red after leaving Wolverhampton High Level station. As no indication could be given of when the track circuit failure would be resolved, the EMU experienced a delayed start of 7 minutes. The signalman in Wolverhampton power signal box shouted to the driver to pass the red signal at danger and proceed at caution. This instruction was confirmed by the signal-box regulator inspector and the station foreman; nonetheless, the train seemed to accelerate rapidly.

  The EMU driver, as authorised, passed the affected signal at red, and also passed the next colour light signal, which was protecting the movement of the steel train on the Down line and its crossing of the Up line into the steel railhead. The EMU then ran through trailing points and over the crossover on to the Down line and collided head-on at 45mph with the locomotive of the steel train. The basic cause of this accident was clearly a signal irregularly passed at danger.

  The public inquiry was conducted by Major Olver and Lieutenant Colonel Ian McNaughton. It was Olver’s first inquiry of his appointment; he had spent a month with me in the Euston division as part of his final training. The inquiry was held in a large, local church hall and was attended by more than fifty people, many of whom were railwaymen of all grades and departments, trade union representatives and relatives and friends of the casualties. Many of them accepted the IO’s invitation to ask questions, all in a very constructive and calmly dignified manner. The local media was also represented.