The Lakeside and Marblehead Railroad: Second Edition Revised and Enlarged

By Dean K. Fick

This e-book contains all of the text and graphics of the original printed edition.

Along the south shore of Lake Erie about halfway between Toledo and Cleveland, there is a small peninsula of land that juts northeastward, interrupting the otherwise smooth contour of the coast. This land is called the Marblehead Peninsula.

The Peninsula's land is quite fertile and has served several generations of farmers and fruitgrowers quite admirably. But just underneath the rich topsoil lies another gift: limestone. Limestone can be used for agriculture, in steel production, and for building structures and foundations. And there is lots of it.

It didn't take long for early Peninsula pioneers to begin taking advantage of their land's geological treasures. Alexander Clemons, one of the earliest settlers, got his small quarry underway by 1834. He was joined over the next few decades by many others. More than ten outfits were going at it by the 1880's.

But as nice as the quarrying was on the Peninsula, there was still a large problem: how to get the stone away from the place. The only method amounting to anything was shipping it by water. But that worked only when the lake wasn't iced over–about eight or nine months per year most of the time. When the water froze, quarrying stopped.

Fortunately, railroad construction was in vogue in the 1800's, and in 1872, the Lake Shore and Michigan Southern Railroad rebuilt its northern Toledo-to-Cleveland mainline. This track touched the southern base of the Marblehead Peninsula just before crossing Sandusky Bay on its approach to Sandusky. And thus was born the possibility of building a short railroad from the LS&MS up to quarries on the eastern part of the Peninsula.

The rail line eventually built was called The Lakeside & Marblehead Railroad (L&M), taking its name from the two principal communities it served. Built in 1886, exactly 6.88 miles long, it was soon purchased by the large Kelley Island Lime & Transport Company, an acquisitive conglomeration that consolidated all of the area quarries into one huge operation by the middle 1890's.

In all, the L&M served the KIL&T Company and its home towns for 78 years–till 1964. And along the way, it utilized a rich variety of equipment: converted narrow gauge passenger cars, 0-6-0 switch engines, Fairbanks-Morse and McKeen gasoline motor cars, and first generation diesel switchers.

The Lakeside & Marblehead Railroad, tells you the interesting particulars about this limestone line. It was written as part of a collaboration of three railfans with more than 75 years of collective experience with the L&M. Their years of intimate knowledge of the line add up to a story worth telling and a book worth owning.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Montevallo Historical Press
• Release date: Dec 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9780965862448

Book preview

The Lakeside and Marblehead Railroad

The Lakeside and Marblehead Railroad

Second Edition, Revised and Enlarged

Dean K. Fick

Montevallo Historical Press

Cover Photo

The L&M’s second Number 4 heads east on the mainline near Violet with an empty set of hoppers. (Photograph by Bob Lorenz.)

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Locomotive 8 backing away from the camera in Marblehead with eight hoppers of stone, shoving them upgrade to the boat loading dock.

In 1949, on the verge of being replaced by diesel-electric locomotives, Number 8 shoves a set of eight loaded flux stone cars upgrade to the Marblehead Dock. (Photograph by Richard J. Cook, Allen County Historical Society Collection.)

The front of a locomotive as seen through the half-opened doors of one of the stalls of the Marblehead engine house.

Number 7, built by the Lima Locomotive Works in 1919, peers through the half-opened doors of the Marblehead engine house in 1949. (Photograph by Bob Lorenz.)

Copyright © 2003, 2019 by Dean K. Fick.

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ISBN 978-0-9658624-4-8

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All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is dedicated to the memory of

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Olan Ferris Gardner

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L&M General Manager 1935-1956

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whose leadership and generosity made the Lakeside and Marblehead Railroad a marvelous place to work,

and whose kindness to railroad enthusiasts made many of the photographs in this book possible.

Contents

Acknowledgments

1. Settlement of the Marblehead Peninsula

2. Railroad Development in Northern Ohio

3. A Railroad at Last

4. The Little Money Railroad

5. The Big Money Railroad

6. The Restless Years

7. Between the Wars

8. World War II and Beyond

Epilogue: The Post-Common Carrier Years

Preservation

Appendix A: Rolling Stock

Appendix B: Selected Employee Records

Appendix C: Freight Shipment Statistics

Appendix D: 1919 Labor Agreement

Appendix E: Kelley Island Lime & Transport Company Shay Locomotives

Appendix F: Elevation Profile Map

Appendix G: Selected Railroad Documents

Appendix H: Coordinates of Key Locations

Bibliography

About the Author

Acknowledgments

This book would not exist if not for the actions and attitudes of scores of individuals over the decades. It probably began many years before I was born with the kindness of the Lakeside & Marblehead Railroad’s General Manager, Olan Gardner, toward railfans. No doubt it was moved along by Bob Lorenz and Richard J. Cook who felt motivated to visit the L&M and to take pictures of it, and was further solidified by the collecting habits of Peter Carr, George Danchisen, and John Kozak, who carefully preserved and organized the great mass of written material the Lakeside and Marblehead Railroad created over the years, and which became its posterity after its death.

My parents certainly played a part in creating this book by tolerating and even encouraging my affection toward railroads, and the cause was definitely advanced when they moved into an old farmhouse along the line’s former right-of-way. Not to forget John Gdoviciak, the intrepid railroad engineer of the Standard Slag Company during the 1970’s, who allowed me, at the tender age of five years, to operate one of the L&M’s engines.

But I am digressing. A better organized attempt to recognize those who contributed to this book is vital, and I hereby intend to give it my best effort.

First and foremost, George Danchisen deserves a medal, for he alone singlehandedly saved the L&M’s records from destruction, spent an entire winter sifting through literally tons of L&M documents, and over time, accumulated a comprehensive photographic collection. The information in this book would lack much detail had not George acted as he did over the decades.

Secondly, I would like to thank Peter Carr for his unwavering support. Peter began to collect L&M artifacts during the 1960’s before the line went out of business. The use of his valuable photographic collection as well as his support and encouragement over the past few years have been greatly appreciated.

My next largest debt of gratitude is owed to George W. Hilton, who allowed me to re-publish his book about the Toledo, Port Clinton and Lakeside Railway, the L&M’s close neighbor. George’s excellent interurban research was a foundation for this book, and I am very grateful for his broad background in transportation history, which he generously shared with me.

Douglas V. Shaw of the University of Akron met with me over lunch at the beginning of this project, surveyed my plans carefully, and helped me aim in the right direction.

Bob Lorenz, talented painter, photographer, and collector of railroad memorabilia, shared his time and resources with me, and created an original painting for this book.

The L&M’s past employees, Lucille Ihnat Benya, Joseph Ihnat, and the late Bob Dress, provided firsthand knowledge of what it was like to work at the line, gave generously of their time and recollections, and endured many impromptu telephone interviews with grace and aplomb.

Jeff Brown, author of The Lake Terminal Railroad, generously set aside his own L&M book project and shared everything he had collected with me.

Charles Bates of the Allen County Historical Society patiently guided me through the Society’s fine library and railroad memorabilia collection and arranged for Richard J. Cook’s photographs to be reproduced.

Grace Luebke of the Elmore, Ohio Public Library saved many valuable newspaper articles concerning the L&M’s construction, then led me straight to them on a moment’s notice.

Rosie Dick, Earl Daniel, and Tim Tester of the Mad River & NKP Railroad Society of Bellevue, Ohio allowed me off-season, after-hours access to their museum’s collection and provided valuable support for my research.

John B. Corns, the inheritor of much of John A. Rehor’s outstanding photographic collection, located the picture of the L&M’s first Number 1 at Glendale and generously shared it via the Internet.

David A. Pfeiffer of the National Archives at College Park, Maryland, helped me navigate through a maze of Interstate Commerce Commission records, found a treasure trove of L&M maps, and provided support above and beyond the call of duty.

The librarians of the Bentley Historical Library at the University of Michigan helped me locate and efficiently sort through the records of the Lake Shore & Michigan Southern Railroad.

The staff of the Ida Rupp Public Library in Port Clinton, Ohio allowed me to spend far too many hours at their microfilm reader examining old newspapers.

The research librarians of the Ohio Historical Society Library in Columbus helped me find city directories and state documents supporting my research.

The friendly workers and volunteers of the Fitchburg Public Library in Fitchburg, Massachusetts helped me locate records concerning Hiram A. Blood and the early railroads of that area.

The curatorial staff of the William J. Rotch House and Garden in New Bedford, Massachusetts showed me around and provided helpful background information regarding the man who was once the richest citizen of their very wealthy city.

Norris Pope, Director of the Stanford University Press gave me permission to publish his excellent photograph of the Ottawa, an early Cleveland & Toledo Railroad locomotive.

Sally Sue Witten, author and historian, of Lakeside, Ohio, helped me find early photographs of the resort, lent me a rare postcard, and provided much encouragement.

David T. Glick was thoughtful enough to photograph the L&M’s motor car at Bono, Ohio in 1962, kind enough to allow me to include his negatives in this book, and diligent enough to help me ferret out some of the finer details of the L&M’s early years.

Marian Bird, former employee of the Standard Slag Company, gave me access to the ex-L&M engine house in 1979 so I could photograph the company’s rolling stock.

K. Soup Fick, my wife, read the manuscript and provided invaluable personal and professional support.

My parents, Kenneth and Gwendolyn Fick, gave me life in the first place and have been unwavering supporters for almost 41 years.

And finally, I would like to thank you, the reader of this book. The Lakeside & Marblehead Railroad will survive even physical extinction in the minds of those who find it interesting. Here’s hoping that you do.

Dean K. Fick

Davenport, Iowa

November 2003

1

Settlement of the Marblehead Peninsula

The United States Government encouraged its citizens to move westward after the Revolutionary War. Americans, a young, restless, and primarily eastern people, were still driven by the spirit that led them to go it alone in the first place. Their manifest destiny, they believed, was to claim all of North America as their very own.

Forces other than destiny forced people to move west, too. The new nation’s population doubled from 5.3 million in 1800 to 9.6 million in 1820. Cities absorbed many of the new arrivals, but the United States economy was based on agriculture, and that meant every person required lots of space—and west was the direction where virgin agricultural land was to be found.

The wilderness that was Ohio became a state in 1803. Roads in Ohio, where they existed, were very primitive affairs, and getting around on them was a real problem. Even under the best of conditions, it took four horses and a whole day to move one and a half tons of weight eighteen miles along a road. And so, pioneers heading west almost always used water transportation to get there.

As the westward movement built momentum, ship traffic began to increase on the Great Lakes, especially after the War of 1812. The Erie Canal, which was the greatest construction project that had yet been undertaken by Americans, was completed in 1825. It stretched from the Hudson River to Buffalo, New York, effectively connecting the eastern seaboard to Lake Erie. The industrious Canadians built the Welland Canal in 1833 so ships could directly navigate between Lake Erie and Lake Ontario.

Great Lakes ships depended upon favorable winds to get where they needed to go until Robert Fulton launched the nation’s first practical steamboat, the Clermont, in 1807. By 1810, steamboats were common in the waters of eastern rivers, and around 1818, the first Great Lakes steamer, Walk-in-the-Water, paddled its way happily up and down the coasts with nary a thought given to the winds. Others soon joined it, though sailing vessels were by far still the norm.

Some migrating pioneers, whether traveling by water or land, decided to stop in northern Ohio. Here, about halfway between the present day cities of Toledo and Cleveland, they found a small peninsula of land jutting northeastward into Lake Erie, interrupting the otherwise smooth contour of the coast. That peninsula is today called the Marblehead Peninsula. It is a mostly flat, dry strip of land twenty-two miles long and one-and-a-half miles across. South of the Marblehead Peninsula is Sandusky Bay. Two islands, today called Kelley’s and Johnson’s, lie close by the Peninsula’s northern and southern sides respectively.

All Peninsula land—and the entire section of the country where it is located—once belonged to Connecticut. Connecticut’s original land grant stretched westward all the way to the Pacific. The national government asked to be given most of Connecticut after the revolutionary war, and that state obediently ceded all concerned territory to the government—except for 3,800,000 reserved acres that its kept for itself.

In 1792, Connecticut granted some 500,000 acres of this reserved land to those of its citizens who had been burned out of their homes by the British during the revolution. These territories thus came to be known as Firelands. All of the Marblehead Peninsula except the very western end lies within the Firelands boundary.

Some Connecticut land grant recipients stayed put in their eastern state and sold their grants; others decided to move west. Those who moved brought familiar place names to Ohio with them: Danbury, Norwalk, and others.

Danbury, an unincorporated hamlet located on the south side of the Peninsula, is one of the Marblehead Peninsula’s earliest settlements. Here, in 1811, a United States customs office was established under the direction of Colonel Peter Ferry. Surrounded as they were by wilderness, Danbury citizens fervently hoped that their town would grow to become one of the leading ports of entry in Ohio, but geography and the passage of time defeated the town’s ambitions. Sandusky (then called Ogontz Place), a mainland town much more centrally located a few miles to the southeast, quickly outgrew Danbury. The customs office moved there after ten years, and Danbury remained a small, unincorporated town.

On the eastern end of the Marblehead Peninsula, Benajah Wolcott, a man originally from the Connecticut Danbury, established a homesite in 1809. Doing so made him one of the earliest notable settlers in the area. He had first come to the Peninsula in 1806 while surveying the Firelands with Moses Cleaveland, organizer of the Connecticut Land Company and the man for whom the city of Cleveland is named.

Trying to make water transportation as safe as possible, the United States Government erected a lighthouse in 1822 on Rocky Point, at the very eastern tip of the Marblehead Peninsula, and hired Benajah Wolcott to become its first keeper. Interestingly, the new lighthouse was constructed of limestone quarried from the Peninsula itself. Benajah Wolcott may have gained some inspiration from the lighthouse builders when he dug out some of this stone for a house in 1822. The high quality of the limestone began to be noted.

Eleven years after the lighthouse went up, another pioneer named Alexander Clemons began to quarry and ship limestone from Cunningham’s Island (today called Kelley’s Island), the island north of the Peninsula. Alexander had arrived in the area in 1817 from Portland, Maine with his father, mother, and brother Elijah. The interesting thing about Alexander’s island quarrying activities is that he probably didn’t have any legal right to undertake them. This was of no consequence, however; when the Kelley family bought the island and renamed it in 1834, they retained Alexander’s services briefly in helping them to establish their own limestone operation.

Alexander Clemons was a very industrious man. About this time, he evidently made up his mind that Peninsula limestone was to be the key to his future. He was correct about its high value. When tested, the stone was found to be the best building stone then available in the region. Its proximity to the waters of Lake Erie was another benefit because, as previously mentioned, water transportation was the most efficient way to move material during these years.

Clemons wasted no time before getting started. Moving to the mainland in 1834, he purchased approximately 133 acres of land on the Peninsula’s northern shore at the eastern end, near the lighthouse, and opened a new quarry the very next year. His quarry was probably the first impetus for large scale settlement of the Peninsula’s eastern part. Only three houses stood in what is now Marblehead when Alexander arrived, but many more quickly followed. The population grew to nearly 500 people by 1840.

The area around Alexander’s operation was first called Point Clemons or Point Prospect, but it soon began to be called Marble Head or Marblehead. The origin of the name is thought to be a case of either