RVRR DOIN' FINE THANKS

Few railroads operate in the friendly, happy-go-lucky atmosphere that is the Rahway Valley’s. Everything about the road, from it’s “cute” letterhead to it’s genial general manager, George A. Clark, seems representative of the spirit of the short line. More than once the workers of this American institution have stopped what they were doing in order to answer your author’s prying queries. I want to thank them all for the contributions they made to this booklet.

This is a story of a short line--- a short line whose little train still chuffs over the Jersey countryside with an old Consolidation working away and the ex-Lackawanna hack (caboose) bobbing anywhere in the consist. It is a story of projects and disappointments---hard luck----with everything coming out straight at last. Moreover, it is a story of a tenacity and accomplishment. A tiny railroad on it’s knees after doing yeoman service in the last war is now working overtime during this war so that dreams very different from those of a man named Louis Keller had really come true.

Speaking of short lines, we have the fifteen mile Rahway Valley, a little known road in Northern New Jersey which just doesn’t understand the meaning of the word “quit9. No bouquets have been cast on the tracks of this pike during it’s 48 years of existence. The road has had to fight a battle---- a battle which often times seemed lost, against depressions and motor trucks. But although it’s coffers have often been empty, the RV has never found it necessary to “go busted” and sag into receivership.

The names of Rahway Valley Railroad and Kenilworth, N.J. are synonymous. Early in the Gay Nineties the town was laid out as a model community for New York businessmen, and named “New Orange”. By ‘97 the place had over 1,500 inhabitants, most of whom were clamoring for adequate transportation to the lines of the Jersey Central and Lehigh Valley, a mere two miles distant.

Thus in June, 1897 (June 6th), the New Orange Four Junction Railroad sprang into existence. (It was originally known as the New York and New Orange Railroad) Capital stock was set at $10,000.00 and within a year the little four mile line was completed. Tracks began at Eighth Street, in the westerly part of New Orange, skirted the north side to Michigan Avenue, and plunged downgrade to the towns eastern limits. One stem ran directly to the Lehigh Valley at Roselle Park, while another wound through the woods to Aldene, a new stop on the Jersey Central. Headquarters for repairs and business were established on the east side of New Orange (Kenilworth), where they remain today. (Original shops were actually on the Monsanto Branch, and not until after 1919 were they moved to the Kenilworth Station)

Evidently the line’s owners weren’t pleased with its name, for they soon changed it to “New York and New Orange Railroad”. (The line was sold under foreclosure in Feb. 1901 to the NOFJ) Upholding this new title, through strip tickets to New York via Jersey Central were sold. (I believe this to be true, I have not seen a ticket with “New Orange Four Junction” printed on it). Little else is known of the line’s early operations or motive power, but an old photograph reveals that its three spot was a timeworn Eight Wheeler. (This is a complete misunderstanding, the “Three Spot” is No.1, it still had it’s PRR number plate on it when it arrived, it was No.322. All of the motive power is known of the NY&NO and the NOFJ)

NY&NO earnings were modest. The road was backed by Elmira, N.Y., capital, and Robert Grimes of that city was president . An extension from New Orange northwest to Summit, on the Lackawanna, was provided for in the line’s original charter, but Grimes and his followers lacked the necessary funds for such a project. (I doubt Grimes really pushed for this extension, W.W. Cole was the one who pushed for it.)

In 1904, a revolutionary change began. Louis Keller, wealthy New York publisher of the elite class year book containing names of “accepted socialites,” the “Social Register”, became interested in the New Orange - Summit extension. He was a prominent citizen of the latter town. (I always believed Keller lived in New York City) Although he was lame (railroad speaking), Keller was an avid golfer, and had founded the Baltusrol Golf Club, a very exclusive club located on the mountainside southeast of Summit. People like to say that he went into the railroad business because transportation to the club was far from adequate. At any rate, the idea gripped him strongly, and he moved fast.

In July, 1904, Keller acquired a charter for the “Rahway Valley Railroad”, authorized to build a line northwest of New Orange to Summit and beyond. He engaged surveyor J.W. Higgins (who also surveyed and planned the town of New Orange) to plot out the right-of-way, and work began soon after he bought the little NY&NO out lock, stock, and barrel in March, 1905.

Mr. Higgins marked the line beginning at a point where the NY&NO main stem curved westward to skirt the northern fringes of New Orange. Here a large hill had to be removed (Tin Kettle Hill project which began removal 06/1903 for the PRR), so Keller helped to form an excavating company, which was followed in later years by others bent in trimming down the Jersey terrain. This practice was only recently prohibited by the town of Kenilworth.

Beyond the hill, a half mile tangent dropped gradually northward to a point later to become known as Wright’s Switch. Here tracks bent northeastward, and gleamed across the Rahway River Valley in a perfect three mile tangent which stretched on wooden trestlework over the swamps (marshes, no swamps exist this far north) at Springfield and climbed the mountain beyond; Here nestled Baltusrol Station, where holiday bound golfers swung off as the little engines dug in their heels to get their two car varnishes, started up the steep grade. The tiny moguls (the RV only owned two of this arrangement) and tankers brought echoes crashing back as they blasted up the hill and followed the giant S-curve which swung the around and behind the mountain, on a high wooden trestle to the next range, and into Summit at last.

Here was short line railroading in all it’s glory. Keller had the rails reverberated to fourteen daily passenger trains. Be fought a fruitless was with the Lackawanna in an effort to build his road further, into the big pike’s territory. It was probably because of this that he consistently to build a connection at Summit. (Now this is perplexing, did Keller want to build past Summit? And refused to connect to the Lackawanna, not the other way around?) The RV was to lose a lot of dough which could have been had as a result. Keller blundered on,20giving the road fine depots, water tanks, and coal bunkers, but an ancient, ineffective shop and many leaky old teakettles for motive power. Then he sat down and waited for the “overwhelming” business to come.

It didn’t. In fact the RV got more and more in the hole with each succeeding year. Passengers were scared off for various reasons. A car got loose on the mountain one day and came down the two percent grade in nothing flat, smashing head on with an engine at the bottom and causing the engineer to lose a leg. Soon after, another gratefully pursued a passenger train through the Springfield stop and across the valley for several miles while terrified passengers gripped their seats.

Factories allowed entrance by the land company (New Orange Industrial Association) which had built up and which “ran” New Orange drove their New York executives and “nice people” out of the town in droves and in keeping with their might, the town was named “Kenilworth”. The industries were “worth” more than a “kennel” to Keller, but his commuter traffic was shot to pieces. Small wonder then, that the road’s exulted fourteen passenger runs had dwindled to a mere half-dozen by 1909.

Expenses, such as those of filling in the old trestles at Springfield and Summit, gnawed steadily at the dwindling funds. With a sigh of despair, Keller invited o outside interests in, and in February, 1909, they chartered the Rahway Valley Company (Lessee) to lease the entire railroad. This way Keller was on the receiving end of both companies and had the added financial support he needed. He, of course, was elected RVC president.

A five year lease was signed in March, 1909, with rental to be $4,000.00 the first twelve months and $6,000, $8,000, and $12,000 and son on in the same proportion each succeeding year until 1914. In ‘14, Keller scrawled his signature on a three year lease. Short term ones have been periodically made since then up until 1939, when at the signing of a ten year run, rental was determined at one-half of the RVC’s income.

This new arrangement did little good, except to give the RV a new “lease” on life. 1910 found both factions keeping books in red ink. A grade crossing elimination bill was before the static legislature that year, and Keller, wrongly interpreting it’s provisions, become excited. He managed to make some stupid, damaging statements, to the press, including one naïve remark that before he’d tear up the RV, he would bridge it’s numerous crossings and turn the road into a scenic roller coaster freak railway. Fortunately for his peace of mind, the measure was voted out of legislature.

In 1911, a three mile branch was built from Wright’s Switch, about a mile north of Kenilworth, to parts of Union and Maplewood. It was known as the “Rahway Valley Line”, and ran almost due northeast to Unionbury Station, from whence it passed upgrade through Vaux Hall, terminating at a point known variably as Hilton or Newark Heights. Wright’s Switch consisted of a wye completely connecting all lines diverging, and received it’s name from the Wright Chemical plant which was located there.

At this time Keller bought two gasoline combines (I think it was only one at this time, No.10) ---- jitney buses, the railroaders called them---- and put them into service, knocking off all steam varnish runs. (varnish meaning passenger) For a time Number Ten and Number Eleven, with motors inside, did well. They ran up the branch and up the main line as far as Baltusrol. There were turntables at Baltusrol, Hilton, and Kenilworth, for them, with a little wooden roundhouse at the latter point. In 1914, however, a Millburn, a Millburn, N.J., trucker won the RV’s old mail contract away from the line. Keller discarded the railcars, which had handled the mail, and put his old three car train back on to Summit. Branch traffic was cut back to Unionbury depot, on Morris Avenue.

Morris County Traction, whose trolleys ran past the Unionbury depot and also within two blocks of the end of track in Hilton, offered to pay for the right to electrify the branch and run over it between those two points, thus providing a link between it’s two lines. This plan was al most carried out, but came to grief for reasons unknown. With it’s collapse, business began to improve as coal yards and small industries entrenched themselves along the line, and in 1917-1918, much track was jacked up and three roads bridged on the branch. (Now this is strange, the dates on the bridges read “1915,” and annual reports stated that the branch was not completed until 1918, quite possibly the branch was built in 1911, and rebuilt in 1917-1918, and bridges built in 1915?)

Although the RV Line paid well, Keller’s Rahway Valley struggled along from day to day, not knowing where it’s next dime was coming from. The RVC paid for construction of a three-quarter mile branch at Summit (Springfield actually) for the Commonwealth Quarry, but in view of the tremendous expense, which included erection of a track scale at Springfield, couldn’t make a profit on the venture. Trolleys and the newborn bus lines went on winning away the road’s passenger business.

Then it came! War clouds gathered over Europe, thickened, and in April, 1917, enveloped us. For a short time the RV’s worries were over. Regular passenger service was not improved, even though business took a big jump, but the American Can Company, which opened a large shell arsenal at Eighth Street, Kenilworth, had a string of eight coaches, which were used. (I guess the RV operated passenger coaches owned by American Can) Every morning an R V hog picked them up from the Jersey Central to whom they had been delivered by a SIRT engine from Staten Island, and hauled them, crammed to the vestibules (Ends of a coach) to the Can Co. plant.

Activity was the order of the day. The arsenal loaded from five to twenty-five cars daily from a maze of spurs, while over on the east side, Carpenter Steel Company’s present day (1944) sent out car after car of alloy tubing from four shipping spurs. Lehigh engines came up to Kenilworth for trains. Other LV hogs were leased to the RV, as was Jersey Central, and PRR power, with the latter road supplying its own crews. RV summer excursions to Jersey shore points became just the thing for wartime workers, who went via the Jersey Central armed with special strip tickets. In short, it was the biggest boom in the pike’s history. Louis Keller patted himself on the back for sticking with the road for so long, but he probably reconsidered doing away with himself when the bubble burst with the signing of the Armistice.

Hardly had the management finished searching their safe with candles to see if there might possibly be something left in it when
the famous ice storm of the winter of 1918-1919 struck in with devastating effects. In the spring of 1919, Keller ditched the
three faithful coaches, for another motor car, passenger days were surely almost over. The following year Mr. Keller passed
away (Keller died in 1922) leaving his relatives dubiously looking over their heritages, a flat broke railroad and a declining
social magazine. In accordance with his wishes, his money (what little there was at this point) and holdings were put into an
estate.

No one knows just how the road got through the tough years that followed. R.A. Clark of Union, together with some New York gentleman and several county lawyers (one of which was Charles Keller Beekman, Keller’s nephew, and Paul Donovan, another lawyer), assumed directorship of the RVC. His regime was marked by wise and cautious handling of the road’s business, such as it was, one of which was disposing of the useless motor car. All through the Twenties little kept the line going save it’s score of fuel and lumber yards.

Outside income consisted of infrequent Jersey Central specials which crept over the uncertain track age and the filing of “Wild West” train holdups. Beer, there was plenty to railroaders who lent their aid in running a train for which grim bandits awaited. The management didn’t object when movie makers burned down a condemned house within a few yards of the grand old Kenilworth depot, but when camera crews were mixing dope one day allowed the stuff to explode and blow out every window out of the station, that was carrying things too far to make a movie on the line. Outside of such diverting activities, there was little else of note save for “worker’s trains” on the Heights Branch (Rahway Valley Line, Maplewood Branch) They consisted of the regular freight bedecked with men going to work, in the cab, on the tops of cars, and on the pilot.

When the rest of the nation was plunged into the depths if a depression, the matter of fact us the RV actually began to make more money! Mt. Clark wisely reinvested in some much needed equipment. In 1929 he scrapped the Engine Number Eight, along with a pair of little 2-4-0s which had belonged to a hill excavating company. This firm’s member’s had left town in a hurry, so he merely cut up their engines to get the money they owed him. Number Twelve, a “too big” 2-8-0 which had been spreading the rails for two years, was retired, permanently, when the Eight Spot was scrapped. In place of them came Numbers Thirteen and Fourteen from the Lehigh and New England.

As part of his improvements, Mr. Clark relocated part of the main line above Kenilworth, 1931 saw reconciliation with the Lackawanna, and final construction of an interchange at Summit.

In 1932, R.A. Clark died, and his son, George A. became manager of the road, stepping up from the office of traffic manager. The nation was nearing relief from the depression then, and deficits were dropping, and industry picked up. The American Laundry Machinery Company began operating in the aged buildings of Can Co.’s abandoned arsenal, and the Andrew Wilson people, fertilizer and insect spray manufacturers, moved into the old RV depot at Baltusrol.

In 1935, the road registered it’s first profit since Louis Keller’s time. 1937 was such a busy year that road super Carl Nees had to go down south and buy another engine for occasional second train use. Number Fifteen, a handsome low-wheeled Consolidation, made quite an addition to the roster. Even after her purchase there was enough money left over for a new machine shop.

Recent years have seen half a dozen new industries locate near RV tracks. The ancient arsenal line, known to this day as “Can” branch (Monsanto Branch) has been justified in existence by the erection of a die works and two sheet metal plants, not to mention l.c.l customers. Practically all the road’s industrial customers are busy with war contracts. 1942 was a good year: the RV netted over $27,000 profit. This was quite a bit more than the 1940 earnings of about $3,500 and the 1941 net of slightly under $8,000. But then, ‘42 was a year in which peacetime products were still being made or shipped as wartime manufacture began. Then, manufacturers were stocking up, and were receiving the materials necessary for conversion. Contracts were also thick and large. Things are falling off now. The 1943 net, recently determined, was nearly $20,000.

As for the future, it seems bright. The only threat seems to be the ever looming truck bugaboo. When the Keller Estate recently announced that it would be glad to accept bids for the road, the Jersey Central sent up quite a few experts to look the line over. At least, its connectors are interested in it’s future. Some believe that the Lackawanna and Lehigh may as yet make themselves heard. In spite of everything, the RV will always have it’s coal and lumber yards to fall back on. A few of the industries which have sprung up will be good customers after the war. But the days of one inconsiderate and troublesome firm are numbered since the town which it is located, wants to get rid of it. The newest plant on the line, Elastic Stop Nut Corp. of America, is at present involved in a financial muddle which began with the suicide of it’s president and may end in the discovery of a wholesale grafting setup. So, save for those two, the chances of the others finding things to make and sticking it out are good. If there’s another depression of consequence---and we’re working to prevent it----there’s no reason why the line shouldn’t return to it’s inalienable occupation, serving the people of a suburban valley with materials to build their homes and with the fuel to heat them. The End. William S. Young

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