Vestal Train Wreck

A freight train running late, a quick stop for water, and a split-second assumption turn into an explosion that people feel eight miles away. We’re telling the story of the Vestal train wreck of 1901, a Delaware, Lackawanna and Western Railroad disaster that detonated a railcar carrying 12 tons of dynamite and ripped through the small town of Vestal, New York near the Susquehanna River. If you’re into rail history, train crashes, or the uncomfortable mechanics of how “almost fine” becomes deadly, this one stays with you. 

We walk through why coal-powered industrial America pushed railroads to build faster routes, how freight traffic surged between places like Scranton, Binghamton, Elmira, and Buffalo, and how one consist ended up dangerously arranged with explosives near the rear. From the moment the crew stops to take on water to the arrival of an unscheduled Wildcat train, the details matter: the missing margin for error, the contested warnings, and the questions about whether brakes were applied in time. 

Then comes the blast and the aftermath: locomotives shredded, windows shattered for miles, telegraph lines torn down, and firefighters battling a coal-fed fire while recovering the injured and the dead. The next day brings another kind of chaos as huge crowds swarm in to stare, photograph, and even haul away souvenirs while wrecking crews race to clear the tracks. We close with the coroner’s inquest and the uneasy takeaway: even when negligence is alleged and arrests are made, accountability can evaporate, and families can be left with nothing. 

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Special thank you to Lunarfall Audio for producing and doing all the heavy lifting on audio editing since April 13, 2025, the Murder of Christopher Meyer episode https://lunarfallaudio.com/

Transcript

When Everything Suddenly Goes Wrong

SPEAKER_00 0:01

It never seems to fail. Just when you think everything is going great, you blink and everything falls apart. You can be having a great day, hanging out with friends or whatnot. Then you hop out of the car, turn your back for just a second, and as soon as you turn around, you realize you didn't set the parking brake, so now the car's rolling downhill right towards a group of little old ladies walking across the street. Or maybe you're cooking, and as soon as you turn your back on the stove, the water starts boiling over, the gravy on the other burner starts to burn. Or maybe you landed your dream job of driving a train. And driving a train is thirsty work. So you step away for just a minute to grab a glass of nice cold refreshing iced tea. And as soon as you come back, you see you're just seconds away from disaster. Like what happened on June 8th, 1901, outside of Vestal, New York. So, what happened? I'm Andrew, and this is History's A Disaster. Tonight, we're diving into the Vestal train wreck of 1901 that took place in the tiny town of Vestal, New York. And tonight's episode is brought to you by Dynamite Ice Tea Company. Nothing quenches your thirst like some dynamite iced tea. With its smooth blend of chocolate and cinnamon, the Dynamite Iced Tea Company offers up an irresistible drink that'll sweep all your cares away. In the late 19th century, coal was king. It was used to heat our homes, factories used it as fuel to heat the kilns to make iron and steel, and it was fuel for ships and trains. With coal being in high demand, more rail lines were needed to move coal from areas rich in it like Scranton, Pennsylvania, to Buffalo, New York, and the markets beyond. To be quicker than the competition, the Delaware, Lackawanna, and Western Railroad made a shorter route to Buffalo by laying tracks on a long-abandoned canal project. This new rail line would cut through the tiny town of Vestal, New York, and a railroad station was put in in 1881. The town of Vestal is located in southern New York, just north of the Pennsylvania border on the southern shore of the Susquehanna River, with the town of Union just a stone's throw across the river. The new rail line was a great thing for local farmers. This would give them easier and quicker access to those lucrative markets in Buffalo and would bring them in more money than they had ever made before. It would also bring in more money for DLW since they now had the shortest route to Buffalo, which meant an increase in business for them as they saw a fairly steady flow of traffic along the lines. The morning of June 8, 1901, train number 62 left the town of Elmira, New York to make its normal freight run up to Scranton. The train's crew all lived in Elmira, with several of them being related. The engineer was John Coleman, the conductor was Theodore Pohamas, whose son Henry was the flagman for the train, and the brakeman was Theodore's nephew Elmer. After they got unloaded, they picked up a bunch of new cars loaded down with a variety of goods. They had a little bit of everything, from felt hats to shoe brushes, and of course, coal. And along with all this, a car loaded down with 12 tons of dynamite. After picking up this load, they were no longer train 62. Now they were the number 61 as they headed back west towards Elmira. As they made their way back a steep incline near Halstead seriously slowed them down. It would put them nearly 3 hours late when they pulled into the station at Binghamton. Here at Binghamton, they added more cars until the train was pulling 50 freight cars behind them. As the cars were added, the position of the cars already on the train changed. The car loaded down with dynamite was pushed to the rear of the train just ahead of the caboose, which was a serious violation of DLNW rules. Rules that should have required the car to be labeled properly and placed in the middle of the train. The crew of the number 61 were slacking on the job. Really, they just didn't care about where each car was placed and just wanted to get on the way. They were already three hours behind schedule, and they still had 65 miles to go to reach Elmira. And at an average speed of around 30 miles per hour, they still had another two hours and they were ready to get home. And in their haste to get underway, they didn't take on any water. So after leaving Binghamton, they stopped 8 miles later in Vestal to take on water. And these steam engines are thirsty beasts that go through a lot of water, so they had to periodically stop to take on more. And since they hadn't taken any water since Halstead, they needed to take the eight or so minutes to unhook the engine from the train so it could be filled up. As the engine was filled up, flagman Henry Pohamas was sent to the rear to warn oncoming trains, since it was fairly common for unscheduled trains called Wildcats to be running the track. And speaking of Wildcat trains, a Wildcat pulled by two engines, engines number 338 and 626, was barreling down the tracks towards Vestel. A train Henry didn't see coming since the whistle to the part had sounded. The engineer of the second engine, John Laudergan, saw the stop train ahead and assumed it was moving. It would take crucial seconds to realize it was not moving fast enough. The number 61 train had just started to leave the station, so it was still going very slow. Launtergan hit the train whistle and applied the air brakes, but it was far too late. They were too close to stop. To try to save himself, Laudergan jumped from the engine, landing in water down in an embankment next to the tracks. Within seconds of jumping at over 20 miles per hour, the Wildcat train slammed into the rear of number 61. As the Wildcat tore through the caboose and slammed into the next car loaded with dynamite, it exploded. The first engine of the Wildcat was shredded in the explosion, sending large pieces of the former locomotive across town. The badly damaged firebox was thrown across the tracks. Bits of the boiler were scattered across the area, while other pieces of the locomotive were never found. The second engine was driven into the ground by the force of the blast. The cars behind it, loaded down with coal and driven by momentum, continued forward, throwing its flammable cargo onto the flames that followed the blast. Telegraph wires were ripped from the poles by the concussive blast of the explosion. Windows for miles around were smashed. Thousands of splinters of wood and glass were thrown across town. One side of the local Methodist church was shattered in the explosion. Nearly every building in Vestal and the town of Union, just across the river, was damaged. Three wooden cars loaded down with coal were piled around the engines. As the fire ate through the wood siding, the coal spilled and was lit up in the flames. Eight miles away, the town of Binghamton was rocked during the explosion. Windows were shattered and people were tossed to the ground. With all the telegraph wires ripped down, the town was completely cut off and had to rely on other sources for information on what happened. In the chaos of the moment, rumors of an earthquake or the powder house had exploded spread across town. It was not until later the next day when a car came in bringing the news of the explosion in Vestal. Fire departments from neighboring towns were called in to help battle the raging fire. A pumper truck from Halstead was called in to help at 3 a.m. The Valley Hose Company of Union with their hand engine arrived and ran a hose early Sunday morning, working hard to keep the massive coal fire under control. Firefighting equipment and men from Leicestershire, Halstead, and Horseheads were called in to help with the fire and rescue the injured and recover the dead. The body of conductor Theodore Pohamas was found 200 yards from the site. He had seen the catastrophe coming and tried to run. He didn't make it. His dismembered and burnt body was found beneath a tree. Brakeman Elmer Polhamas was found in a ditch after being blown from the caboose. His burnt and dismembered body was buried by debris and blocked by fire. Rescue workers had to work slowly because of the heat from the flames to recover his body. Flagman Henry Pulhamas would survive and live to be 61. However, he was seriously injured in the blast when his left hand was ripped from his arm. George Mattis, the head engineer on the Wildcat engine number 338, managed to jump from the train before the collision, but was seriously wounded in the blast. His face took a beating as his nose was blasted off and he was left bleeding from the ears and eyes. In the following coroner's inquest, he would end up being charged with criminal manslaughter, but those charges would later be dropped. The rest of his life would be haunted by tragedy. In 1907, his son drowned while canoeing down the river. Three years later, he became severely ill with tuberculosis and would end up committing suicide in 1916. Fireman John Coulter was killed in the collision. His remains were left embedded in the train since it would take them several hours until the wrecking crews and the Derricks were able to move the large pieces trapping his body in place. Fireman Fred Weatherby was partially found down in an embankment. The rest of his body had been blown across the field next to the tracks. Head brakeman John Kelly survived the explosion and was found semi-conscious in a nearby ditch. He was badly injured and burnt. He survived just long enough to be moved to the Vestal Station, but would die from his wounds not long after. Brakeman Charles Miller was in the caboose of the Wildcat train and survived with only minor injuries. Engineer John Launderden, seeing the inevitable coming, jumped from the train and landed in a ditch. His shoe was torn off in the blast, and a nail from the shoe was shoved into his foot. Debris from the explosion struck and knocked him unconscious. When he came to, he hobbled toward the wreckage to help survivors, but passed out as he neared the caboose. Conductor Michael Harrison, flagman William Merrick, and fireman John Litter of the Wildcat train would survive with only minor injuries. The day after the explosion, over 5,000 round trip tickets were sold on the Union train, which would end up being over 10,000 people scrambling to get seats. Everyone was coming out to see what happened. Men, women, and kids were making the day of it. Extra trains were ran to accommodate all the sales, and even more people were coming to town. By streetcar, by bike, hell, by hopping a freight train. The tiny town of Vestal with a population of 1850 was getting a bit overcrowded as over 15,000 people swarmed the town. Some came to look at the wreckage, others to take pictures. And of course, everyone wanted to take home a little souvenir. And the railroad gladly told them to take whatever they wanted. Because hell, cleanup goes by a hell of a lot quicker with 10,000 people taking whatever they could carry. They would have plenty to choose from. Debris from the wreckage was scattered in a three-quarter of a mile radius from the blast. Buttons and other personal belongings of the dead were amongst the favorite pieces, and the more morbidly curious had plenty of blood-soaked rags and articles of clothing to take. Men armed with screwdrivers took apart sections of the train. Anything they could pull off, they did. From straps to blow-off pipes to relief valves and gaugecocks. Everything was up for grabs. Among them, the boys were the busiest, hauling off whatever they could take and coming back for more. Souvenir hunters worked well into the night, grabbing whatever interested them. And while the spectators hunted for souvenirs, the wrecking crews turned their attention to the twisted and broken tracks, the broken cars, and the pile of smoldering coal. Wrecking crews, track workers, and machinists from several towns were all called in to help clear the tracks. By early morning, both the east and westbound tracks had been patched up enough to make them serviceable. In between the running trains bringing in mobs of the curious, two crews with steam directs, which are large steam-powered cranes, came in to start working through the wreckage, picking up the huge pieces of broken iron and rail cars and loading them onto flat cars. Another group of men was hard at work shoveling coal from the side of the tracks to the top of the bank. And that's a hell of a toss. The wreck happened in a depression in the ground, and the banks on either side were over 8 feet high. The large hole blown in the ground was filled with a mass of twisted iron, coal cars, pieces of two engines, coal, and boxcars. 200 feet south of the track was blackened and laid bare. A steel rail 5 feet in length and weighing 150 pounds was found thrown 600 feet south of the track. Within 24 hours of the explosion, the tracks would be completely cleared and back up and running. After the explosion, a coroner's inquest was held to determine who, if anyone, was to blame for the accident. And the two biggest witnesses were George Madis and Henry Pohamus. At the time of the inquest, George was still recovering from his wounds, so they used the statement he had written instead. In his statement, he said he knew the number 61 train was roughly a half hour ahead of them, and that he had seen the lights of the train ahead on a curve, but his full view was blocked when he stepped away from the cabin of the engine to get some tea from a pail five feet away. By time he got back to the cab after a quick chat with the fireman about a leak in the boiler, he saw the caboose at number 61, 20 car lengths ahead. He had been out of the cab for less than two minutes. He hit the brakes and sounded a warning, but unable to stop the inevitable, he told the fireman to jump for it as he made his way out and jumped. He also stated that there was no warnings put out about the stop train. Other than three men standing near the caboose before the collision, he never saw a flagman. The doctor that later treated George's wounds would testify that of the dozen times he heard George tell the story, it never changed. However, Henry Pulhamus, the flagman, had a slightly different version of events. Of course. After checking the lights on the caboose, he walked the tracks with his red lantern as the Wildcat train approached. He had made it nearly 40 car lengths as the Wildcat engine passed him. Seeing no one in the cab, he could only yell out a warning and wave his lantern at the train. He also testified that at no point did he ever hear the air brakes on the Wildcat engage. Later evidence would also go on to suggest that the Wildcat never hit the brakes, but this was never fully verified. The inquest would end up calling for the arrest of both George Mandis and Henry Pohamas. George was arrested for leaving the cab after seeing the lights of the caboose and failing to make sure it was moving, and not returning until it was way too late to stop the coming collision. They said he was criminally negligent for leaving his post and not being able to control the train which led to the accident. O'Henry was arrested for not following proper safety protocols. He was negligent for not placing torpedoes on the track or burning fuses and not taking any of the ordinary precautions. And just for reference, a torpedo is a small explosive device that's placed directly on the tracks. When a train hits it, it goes off and acts as an audible warning for engineers to stop danger ahead. A lot of times they're used in like foggy conditions or curves when you can't really see too far ahead. They were both charged with criminal manslaughter, however, charges in both cases were later dropped, and both men would remain free. DLW would not be held liable for anything, so no settlements would be paid out to the injured or families of the dead. And since things like Workers Comp didn't exist yet, everyone was just shit out of luck when it came to getting paid. A historical marker now marks the site of the explosion. The former train station, after being moved and going through some serious restoration, now serves as the town's museum. And that was the Festal New York Train Wreck of 1901. Thanks for listening, and if you liked the show, please consider leaving a rating or review on your Apple Choice. And you can reach out to the show at historiesadisaster at gmail.com with questions, comments, or suggestions. As well as following the show on social media like Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, YouTube, whatever, and share the episode. Your friends will love it. And you know what? Adopt a penguin. Hell, adopt the two. Then you can dress them both up in little train conductor hats and play with HO scale toy trains in the safety of your own home. While you're at it, chase that dream. Live for today. Because tomorrow is never guaranteed. Thanks and goodbye.