(upbeat music) (projector clicking) - Have you ever wondered where the television signal you're watching is coming from?

♪ I love to go a wanderin' (projector clicking) ♪ along the mountain track - Welcome to True North.

(upbeat music) (mysterious music) - Good evening and welcome to Mainewatch (upbeat music) (projector clicking) Welcome to From The Vault, a celebration of 60 years of Maine Public Television.

If you are a fan of rail travel or the history of railroads in Maine, then you are in for a treat.

On this episode, we will ride the rails with two selections from the archives.

First up, we will go to 2004 for an episode of "Home: The Story of Maine" that looks at how the state went from a series of small dirt trails right up through the creation of the interstate.

Then we take an in-depth look at what was once the nation's largest two foot narrow gauge railway with the 1984 program, "The Sandy River Line" with some incredible old film and pictures of towns in Franklin County.

This show looks at the creation of the railway and how it brought prosperity and convenience to western Maine.

And if these shows give you the urge to go for a rail excursion, there are several heritage railways throughout the state from Portland to Ellsworth and of course the Sandy River Line and Phillips as well as others.

So all aboard.

Our first stop will be in 2004 with "Home: The Story of Maine".

(gentle music) - The following program is a production of the Maine Public Broadcasting Network.

(light music) - The patterns of roads and rail lines have shaped and transformed Maine and its people.

- It wasn't until the 19-teens that they began to pave roads and even by 1917, there's still talking in all the literature that they're still actually bragging about how many miles of paved road that they have in Maine.

- [Narrator] The story of Maine's roads and rails is next on "Home: The Story of Maine."

- [Announcer] Production of "Home: The Story of Maine" is made possible in part through a television demonstration grant from Rural Development, part of the U.S.D.A.

(upbeat music) (gentle music) (water splashing) - The story begins with the first settlers.

Maine people, constantly upgrading their transportation system to make sure they are up to date with the changing technology.

(train chugging) - Here's something that's going down the track and the wheels is goin' and you know what I mean?

The smoke coming out of it.

I just fell in love with 'em.

If you want to go to Van Buren and not be all day, you went on the train.

It was the only way to get there.

- There had been a push for better roads even in the late 1890s.

With the invention of the automobile, people realized that they needed to have good roads as a way to prosperity.

So they decided that the road was the way to go.

- [Narrator] Many of the familiar roads we travel today started out as paths, created first by Native people, then followed by Europeans as they began settling Maine in the 1600s.

The first settlements were isolated farms that hugged the coasts and rivers.

Aside from the well-worn Native American paths, the only roads were long, deep ruts running from house to house.

Homesteaders joined together to clear the land and an agricultural economy took hold.

- They were working on the farm in the summertime, haying, planting, harvesting, keeping their tools in shape, building new buildings, putting in waterlines, sugaring in March, haying in August.

And then as soon as the summer season got over, the harvests got over, men and young boys would go to work on getting their sleds ready, their oxen ready for the winter logging season.

(gentle music) - Their success soon drew others.

People saw Maine's vast tracks of undeveloped forest land as a place where they could make a better life for themselves.

Farming required land and as more colonists arrived, the ribbon of shoreline settlements expanded and the frontier began moving inland.

To reach these new, isolated areas, pioneer families made the long, tedious journey, on foot or horseback, following the centuries old paths of Native people or trails marked by colonists who had gone before them and would be soon their neighbors.

Thousands of early settlers were drawn to Maine in search of inexpensive, prime farmland, like the Ezekiel Merrill family who built in the town of Andover.

A family memoir tells their story.

- [Woman] "As pecuniary means had been reduced, "they concluded to remove to Maine, "where land was cheap and, in March 1788, "with seven children, they started for Bethel.

"At Fryeburg, their road terminated."

- [Narrator] Their journey didn't end here, but the road did.

From Fryeburg, the Merrill family continued overland through the wilderness, climbing to heights of more than 1400 feet before reaching the other side of Evans Notch.

(water running) Fording rivers and wending their way through rugged terrain, this difficult journey brought them to a glorious, lush valley of rich riverbed soil.

Many people followed well into the 1900s, like Phil Andrews, whose family settled in the town of Stow.

- When I moved up, I had four cows and two horses the same age as I was.

In July of '34, I married my first wife.

We were married 47 years.

And I think how much courage she had.

The only convenience to us was the hand pump in the sink.

No furniture, no running water, no electricity, no bathroom.

And we had four children.

And the first three of 'em, we paid the doctor and the nurse with maple syrup.

Not money from maple syrup but maple syrup.

Well, they had rather had money.

But they'd rather have the maple syrup than no money.

They knew of the circumstances to start with.

(gentle music) - [Narrator] The isolation faced by the Andrews family was similar to that experienced by earlier generations.

Despite the difficulties, thousands flocked to Maine, eager for new opportunities.

Between 1784 and 1800, the state's population tripled.

Some of these settlers were merchants and artisans, but most were farmers.

Maine was now home to tens of thousands of proud, hardworking families.

Except for their nearest neighbors, who could be miles away, people were disconnected from one another.

No one felt this isolation more than the women.

- The women in the farms and in the houses had different responsibilities than did the men.

The men might have more chances to go to the towns or to visit with other folks or to get out, whereas women were tied more directly to the house because they were taking care of children and they were doing all of those other tasks that go along with running your farmhouse.

I know of a woman who lived in Aroostook County who wrote letters to her sister who lived in the southern part of the state, telling her how much she missed her and how hard it was to get to visit her.

And that one of the difficulties was getting the team together.

You know, getting the horses and getting the carriage and the long journey that that would entail even if she got it together.

She was in a very isolated spot and although she could write and have contact that way with her sister, she couldn't see her.

- [Narrator] One woman who did travel from Southern Maine to Aroostook County was renowned botanist Kate Furbish.

In 1881, she wrote in her diary.

- [Kate Actor] "The country was a vast wilderness.

"The driver of the stage said that there were "probably no houses west of the road "until one reached Canada.

"The road itself was alarming "because recent repair work had left ditches "as deep as ravines on both sides.

"There were fine views of Mount Katahdin "and long stretches through dense forests "where silence itself seemed the only presence."

- [Narrator] Such difficulties were simply a part of traveling in Maine.

Good roads required time and capital that most communities didn't have.

(dramatic music) But the face of transportation in Maine was about to change.

A miraculous invention, developed in England decades earlier, was revolutionizing the world and had just arrived in Maine.

(train whistle blowing) - The railroad system benefited everybody.

It meant that they could import raw materials economically and export their finished products economically and be competitive.

So railroads were the ideal solution to Maine's transportation needs because they could serve the entire state.

- [Narrator] In 1834, the legislature began the difficult process of establishing a comprehensive railroad policy with the best interest of all regions in mind.

Maine's varied topography made it difficult to create a plan and decisions were stalled.

It became apparent that assistance was necessary if the railroad was going to flourish in Maine.

A private citizen rose to the task.

His name was John Poor and he had a vision.

This grandson of Ezekiel Merrill understood the isolation of rural communities.

A successful lawyer in Bangor, he had the means and foresight to open the state in previously unimaginable ways.

- [John Actor] "The locomotive engine grew "into a greatness in my mind "that left all other created things far behind it "as marvels and wonders.

"It was a vision in which I saw the whole line "pass before me like a grand panorama "and in continuation, a vast system of railroads "permeating the whole country."

- [Narrator] Poor's dream went beyond linking the communities of Maine together.

He had a grander plan for connecting the state to the rest of the world.

The first branch of this system was a line that would serve Canada.

- His goal was first build a railroad to Montreal, become Canada's winter port, building that railroad would serve a portion of the state and then use that line as a trunk off which you can run branch lines to serve the other parts of the state.

- [Narrator] It was an exciting time, as rail lines expanded, developments sprang up all along the tracks.

Although most people were in favor of this development, some recognized its disadvantages as well.

(water running) In the mid-1800s, one such dissenter was John Brickett.

He was hired by a rail corporation to survey the old wilderness trail traversed by the Merrill Family through Evans Notch.

Brickett had mixed feelings about the railroad.

He understood the economic benefits but foresaw the disruptive consequences, so he came up with a plan to preserve the landscape surrounding his farm.

- Our next step is we'll head up to East Royce up there and we'll get some elevations up there.

- [Narrator] The slope through Evans Notch was steep and he decided to exaggerate the elevation.

He did this by going to the tallest peak in the valley, even though the train would never actually need to climb that high, he figured the elevation gained from that uppermost point.

- Hold it.

A little bit to the left.

- [Narrator] His plan to dissuade the rail worked.

The railroad determined it would be too costly and canceled their plans to build a route through.

With this small act, John Brickett protected the irreplaceable wilderness, leaving behind the undeveloped landscape we appreciate today.

- On the other hand, a number of people, including folks who, perhaps, were merchants and really wanted a better connection with the market, they made other efforts throughout the next few decades to actually get a railroad up there, but it was not successful.

(gentle music) - [Narrator] Mixed feelings or not, overall enthusiasm for the rails ran deep and Maine people welcomed the routes and jobs they created.

Maine craftsmen even manufactured the locomotives themselves.

The Portland Company built engines for lines throughout the United States and Canada.

By the 1850s, this was the largest employer in Portland.

The railroad industry was booming and the younger generation, who would work on the lines to come, grew up dreaming about the rails.

- I was raised in Canada, up in New Brunswick.

And that's the first time I ever can remember seeing trains, was on the CP and the CN that run by the farm there.

There, they was two railroads that run by my grandparents' place.

There was a crossing just a little ways from the farm, they'd blow for that and I'd get up and look out the window and get back in bed again.

That's how interested I was and my ambition was to be an engineer.

Not very big ambition, but it's what I wanted to be and I made it and I was satisfied with it and I'd do it again.

- [Narrator] What was begun by John Poor soon grew into the Maine Central Railroad.

By 1871, this line connected Maine to the rest of the nation, both by track and steamship.

- Once you get an efficient transportation system established, then new industry, new businesses tend to settle themselves around those corridors to utilize that efficient transportation system.

(dramatic music) (bird caws) - [Narrator] While the lower half of the state was booming, the northern part of the state was not.

Two ambitious Mainers sought to change that by opening up this rich farmland.

Franklin Cram of Bangor and Albert Burleigh of Houlton led the creation of the Bangor and Aroostook Railroad in 1891.

- Originally, with the coming of the railroad in Aroostook County, of course, you had the opening up of that area.

Potato industry really didn't blossom until they had a way of getting the potatoes out once the railroad went in, then they had a means of getting their potatoes out.

- [Narrator] In the 20 years between 1894 and 1914, potato shipments increased sixfold to over 300,000 tons.

- They used to have a saying on the Bangor & Aroostook that the railroad the potatoes built and there's no question in my mind that that's what started them going.

- [Narrator] Farmers benefited not just from being able to move their potatoes, they could now travel with greater ease themselves.

What used to be a several day trip from Houlton to Portland by horse now took only one day.

By 1900, there were 1200 miles of track in Maine and the communities on the rail lines thrived.

(train whistle blowing) The areas off these main lines were often served by the Narrow Gauge.

This smaller track could get into places where larger rails couldn't go.

- Lot of the Narrow Gauge railroads which would go primarily for the harvesting of the resources in the area, you had the Sandy River Narrow Gauge Railroad for the farmings of the north, which lasted relatively a short period of time.

Once the wood was harvested, trying to find a way of keeping it alive was very difficult.

- [Narrator] Railroads were a part of most everyone's lives and fathers and sons often worked for the same lines.

- I came from a railroad family.

My father was an engineer and my father put in three more years longer than I did.

I put in 43 and he put in a little over 45.

But my dad, he used to have to shovel a lot of coal and I'm telling you, you'd burn like 8, 10 ton of coal, going 75 miles, and you had to have a strong back for that kind of work.

- [Narrator] Railroads had developed fast and powerful steam locomotives.

But their size and weight were cumbersome and railroad corporations demanded a faster, more reliable way to haul.

The solution was the diesel engine.

The Flying Yankee, one of the nation's earliest diesel liners, marked the first challenge to the steam locomotive in Maine.

(train horn honking) The diesel's smooth, constant delivery of power gave it superior hauling ability over steam.

- [Man] Oh, yeah, running a steam locomotive was entirely different from running a diesel.

It's like going from the horse to the track there out day.

You could get on a diesel locomotive and you could haul just as much freight as I could as far as I's concerned, but that wasn't so with the steam locomotive.

- A lot of guys felt, well, they didn't cry but they felt bad because they spent all their lives on there and they're working on 'em and they liked 'em.

I liked 'em myself.

Each trip on the steam engine was a challenge.

To the fireman, he had to make the steam.

After you get the steam made, the engineer had to use it.

And he had to be a pretty smart guy to get the power out of the steam engine.

- [Man] You had to know when to use them and when not to use 'em.

We had a gauge in our cab, we call it back pressure gauge, and some of the men had the tendency to overuse too much back pressure before you get the hill.

And others didn't.

So you had to know when to use the right amount of back pressure at a certain milepost, 'cause you didn't have no speedometers on 'em.

- [Narrator] The speed and efficiency of diesel meant less wear and tear on tracks, half the fuel, and much more cost-effective runs.

Maine could now boast lines equal to any in the nation.

Between 1930 and 1948, potato traffic was at an all-time high.

But this potato road would soon find itself coming to an end.

The one thing no improvement in railroads could compete with were the country's newly developed highways.

This network of roads moved beyond the confines of the railroad track and connected regions and people as never before.

After 1948, rail traffic began to give way to highway transportation.

It wasn't long before rail lines couldn't compete with the lower cost of shipping by truck.

The B&A, along with the rest of the rail lines in Maine, fell into decline.

(car cranking) (dramatic music) - Americans tend to go whole hog for the latest transportation innovation.

First it was canals, then it was railroads, then it's highways.

The automobile is ideal for rural states, like Maine was.

And Maine people adopted automobiles very, very quickly but of course there's a cost to that.

It meant that rail passenger service just plummeted and freight service dropped dramatically, too, as trucks began hauling more cargo that railroads previously hauled and they lost probably 75% of their freight to trucks.

- [Narrator] Many of the paths and trails that European settlers first traversed had gradually widened into roads.

In Western Maine, the wilderness trail traveled by the family of Ezekiel Merrill was finally paved.

- And that was in 1934, 1935.

And there are people that remember, their mothers going through, being the first handful of families being driven through the Notch and that was quite an event to be put into a car and drive through the Notch and a passable road.

- [Man] "Oh, God, who has raised up every towering crag "and lofty mountain pass, bless the daring labors "of those who have prepared a highway through the wilderness "and made the rough places plain."

Prayer for a mountain road at Evans Notch Road completion and dedication.

(upbeat music) - [Narrator] In Southern Maine, U.S. Route 1 was one of the state's first paved roads.

Before being officially tied together in 1925, this route was no more than a series of loosely interconnected dirt roads and remnants of old paths.

- It was almost like an auto trail more than an actual Route 1 interstate highway that we envision now.

It was almost like hiking the Appalachian Trail or something.

You needed a guide book to read and say turn left at the horse trough in the middle of the road or at the general store, take a left, or cross over the railroad tracks now.

And that was part of the adventure of the road was on the open road, you're in your car, you're headed out for the territories.

And certainly Maine was even viewed as a frontier, so there you were, exploring on the Maine frontier.

- [Narrator] Motorists and their need for gas, food, and lodging, fueled the roadside economy.

Route 1 provided miles of opportunity for local farmers to find ways to turn the traffic into a new stream of income.

With so many people on the road, safety became an important consideration.

- [Kathleen] In the push for safer, faster roads and straighter roads, many businesses found themselves having to adapt to this by actually moving the location of their business to the road.

For example, Moody's Diner in Waldoboro, they actually had to buy property, a new property, about a mile or two up closer to this road so that they would still have road frontage.

- [Narrator] By 1947, the ongoing traffic jam of Route 1 required an alternative.

(upbeat music) The solution was the Maine Turnpike, the state's first modern, efficient roadway.

- [Woman] The turnpike provided increased opportunity for tourists and commercial traffic between destination points.

This was a streamlined travel experience.

There was a focus less on the journey and more on the destination.

(upbeat music) - [Narrator] Today, modern roads lead everywhere in Maine.

People take highways to scenic Route 1, where they can enjoy the Maine coast.

Or to places where there are no roads, like the hiking trails preserved in Evans Notch.

Scenic spots are valued as much as modern highways and transportation systems.

The Evans Notch region remains much the same as it was 100 years ago.

The wilderness trail may have transformed into Route 113, but the isolation of the valley continues.

This road is still not plowed through in the winter time.

John Brickett's homestead is now the information center for the National Forest Service, which helps maintain the hiking trails that rise and fall through the mountains surrounding the valley.

Maine strikes a delicate balance between respect and pride for places that are wild and remote and keeping up with the transportation needs of the future.

- Every type of transportation has its positive and negative aspects.

Right now, we rely heavily on highway systems.

We have this magnificent rail system which is still a more efficient way to move things than highways.

I think the comeback of passenger rail service will be very positive and hopefully we'll see a return to that in the next millennium.

- If I'm alive when that train goes on, from Boston to Portland, I'm gonna take a ride on it.

- [Announcer] Production of "Home: The Story of Maine" is made possible in part through a television demonstration grant from Rural Development, part of the U.S.D.A.

(gentle music) (train chugs) - Railroading is a big industry, a big business.

What we see today is a highly developed organization using large scale technology in a very big way.

One or two workers control hundred car trains through a maze of switches, sidings and spurs.

Computers keep track of a myriad of goods traveling toward their destinations.

There was a time when all this was being created.

It was the mid 1800s when a railroad network began to cross the land.

This network was the first modern transportation system, and was being designed and built by the entrepreneurs of that era.

To them, everything was negotiable, even the distance between the rails.

Our story is about a small railroad in Northwestern Maine, whose owners decided to build as a two foot gauge line, two feet between the rails instead of the standard four feet eight and one half inches.

The railroad's name was the Sandy River and Rangeley Lakes Railroad, but people just called it the Sandy River Line.

(lighthearted banjo music) In the mid 1800s, Franklin County was an abundance of forests.

The lifestyle of the residence was probably similar to what it had been a century earlier.

Self-sufficient farms, a few large landowners, and a general store in each village selling only the basic necessities.

Travel was still on horseback, buggy, or stagecoach.

Roads were dirt paths winding through the woods.

Most of the citizens probably felt a real sense of isolation, of being at the north end of the long road south to cultural civilization.

Few of them foresaw the deep changes that were coming, but a few men were envisioning the future of the county.

It was 1869 when Nathaniel Beal of Phillips realized that Franklin County needed a railroad.

A railroad would bring industry, jobs, and a dynamic flourishing economy to a sleepy area of rural Maine.

But constructing a railroad was not an easy task.

Lots of money would be needed to build a standard gauge line, like the Androscoggin Railroad that ran into Farmington.

Beal and his partners were always looking for ways to save some of those costs.

Samuel Farmer, one of Beal's partners, had an occasion to ride a new two foot gauge railroad in Northeastern Massachusetts.

The Billerica and Bedford Railroad.

The idea of a narrow gauge line for Franklin County grew in his mind.

On his return to Phillips, he shared his idea, and Beal and the other partners decided to pursue it.

Enter George Mansfield.

A Massachusetts entrepreneur, who at the time was the superintendent of the B&B.

He had become the nation's foremost promoter of the narrow gauge railways.

He accepted an invitation to Franklin County, and saw a golden opportunity and an ideal setting for a small line.

The directors of the B&B were often at odds with each other.

That, and the poor location of the line had brought the railroad to the brink of bankruptcy by 1878.

Perhaps the used B&B equipment would be available, along with the services of the most knowledgeable man concerning narrow gauge railroading.

The task of the winter of 1878 and '79 was to raise the money.

The corporation had been capitalized at $100,000, and Maine state law required that they raised 60% or $60,000 of it before they could actually begin.

In reality, $100,000 was a terribly low figure.

As it turned out, the Sandy River would not have been built if it hadn't been for some fortunate twists of fate, and a strong desire of the region's citizens to see the line built.

By early 1879, the locomotives, cars, and even the rails of the now defunct B&B were owned by one of the line's major creditors, who had no intention of running a railroad.

After some hard bargaining, he agreed to sell the equipment to the Sandy River for a small sum of money, and $11,000 worth of stock.

Not only did this deal equip the new line, but the stock subscription put them over the $60,000 minimum investment.

The railroad had become a real organization.

(lighthearted banjo music) The new railroad saved a lot of money through the generosity of the citizens.

Some were able to buy stock, but most did not have that kind of money.

What they did have was land.

If they didn't give the needed land to the railroad, they gave a right of way to allow the line to cross their land.

So the Sandy River Line saved the cost of acquiring much of the land it was built on.

There was one hitch though, and it was a major one.

The town of Phillips and Strong had contributed their town's credit.

But in the case of Phillips, which had offered $14,000, payment would be made only if the line was running into town by November 20th, 1879.

And it was already June.

With that problem in mind, the question became where to locate the line.

Towns along both sides of the Sandy River wanted the railroad to run through their communities.

Surveys were run along both routes to find the best location and the easiest grade.

The directors finally decided on a route that ran north from Farmington to Fairbanks, and followed the Sandy River to Strong.

It then headed west through Avon, and crossed the river just before entering Phillips.

The grade was relatively level, and never more than three quarters of a mile from the Sandy River.

With the path decided, a contractor was hired, and construction began in July of 1879.

(lighthearted music) By October, the tracks had been laid to Strong about 10 miles.

The directors of the Sandy River had been facing one financial problem after another.

And they could not convince the contractor to speed up the progress to meet the November 20th deadline.

After hard negotiations, a second contractor and crew were hired.

The crews worked day and night, at least until November 18th, when the snowstorm hit.

The tracks were only a mile from town when more than a foot of snow fell.

A call for help went out, and nearly the whole town of Phillips turned out to shovel snow and help lay tracks.

The delay was costly, and it wasn't the last.

The very train that was to cross the town line on the 20th derailed.

It was 9:26 in the evening when the first train rolled into Phillips.

Only two hours and 34 minutes before the deadline.

The Sandy River railroad had come alive.

(lighthearted piano music) The first year of operation was a learning experience for everyone.

The line had been laid down so quickly that a gradual rebuilding became necessary.

Curves had to be eased, and some trestles were filled in.

The railroad began service with 17 employees at an expense of $20 a day.

March of 1880 saw George Mansfield move on to promote his narrow gauge idea elsewhere.

Nathaniel Beal became the general manager.

By 1883, the continued growth of the Sandy River line was assured, and the talk turned to expanding the line west beyond Phillips, and north from Strong.

Large tracks of forest land had been bought by lumber barons who envisioned building a mill at Kingfield.

They were interested in having a railroad built as an economical, efficient means of transporting timber to the mill, and its products to market.

It would connect it to Strong, and it only made sense that it would be a narrow gauge line as well.

The line would be called the Franklin and Megantic.

Its purpose was to serve the mill, but the residents saw the obvious benefits and quickly pledged to purchase the available stock.

Then the problems began.

The contractor brought in an Italian crew.

The residents were outraged that they weren't getting the jobs.

They withdrew their stock pledges and the lumberman were forced to save their project with their own money.

The railroad was completed by the end of November, 1884.

Winter set in soon after, the line operated until the end of January, 1885, when it simply put away its engine until spring.

The new Franklin and Megantic Railroad was the county's first taste of its economic bread and butter.

Large scale lumbering.

(lighthearted jazzy music) It was 1889 when Calvin Putnam, owner of the large lumbering firm Putnam and Clauson, began to promote an extension of the Sandy River line beyond Phillips, to the vast tract of timber he owned in Reddington.

He proposed to build a huge saw mill at Reddington, and it would be the largest customer of the new line called the Phillips and Rangeley.

The P&R was built to Reddington by the winter of 1890.

And it was extended to Rangeley by June of 1891 to serve the sportsmen traffic that flowed to Rangeley every year.

The line ended on the shores of Rangeley Lake at a tiny but beautiful depot called "Marbles".

Then came the Kingfield and Dead River.

Build in 1894, it extended the Franklin and Megantic line beyond Kingfield to the timberlands of Carrabassett and Bigelow.

The Madrid Railroad was completed in 1903.

It was owned by Putnam and Clauson, and was constructed to tap yet another tract of timberland.

The final major construction was the Eustis Railroad.

Completed in 1903, it was another source of logging and lumbering freight for the other lines.

In 1904, Franklin County was being served by no less than seven railroad lines.

First was the main artery to Farmington, the Androscoggin Railroad.

Now owned by the rapidly expanding Maine Central Railroad.

Then came the six narrow gauge lines.

The main line was the Sandy River, which served two major branches.

To the east were the Franklin and Megantic, and the Kingfield and Dead river.

They flowed northward from Strong into the forests of Carrabassett and Bigelow.

The western line was made up of the Phillips and Rangeley, and its two branches, the Madrid and the Eustis railroads.

In 25 years, the narrow gauge network had grown from a simple 18 mile run up the Sandy River to a 105 mile network of profitable lines effectively serving the entire area.

The narrow gauge lines of North Franklin County had become the country's best example of a two foot gauge system.

It had become and would continue to be the largest two foot gauge line this country would ever see.

(lighthearted jazzy music) The railroads had a dramatic impact on the county's economy and its social structure.

The lumbering operations had become the largest employers.

Many who helped build the railroad were now working in the woods or in the mills.

The industrial boom was not all lumbering though.

Two of the Sandy River's best customers were manufacturers.

In Strong, the Forster Company opened a toothpick factory that still operates today.

But in Phillips, only a concrete shell remains of the international clothes pin factory, a testament to better times.

(lighthearted music) Rangeley boomed because the railroad delivered guests right to the shores of Rangeley Lake.

Many of the farmers who had been skeptical at first found their produce worth more because it could be shipped more easily.

The value of their land near the right of way often doubled, simply because it was near the line.

Phillips replaced Farmington as the central shopping town because retail products could be delivered so easily to the local stores.

The wisdom of creating the narrow gauge railroad was fully apparent by now.

The lines were carrying all the products and passengers North Franklin County could provide.

And because the operating costs were so much smaller, the six Sandy River lines were all quite profitable.

(lighthearted jazzy music) The railroads were operating like a well-oiled machine.

Because of the cooperation, there was little change in January of 1908, when the Sandy River, the Franklin and Megantic, and the Kingfield and Dead River merged.

In June of that year, the Phillips and Rangeley, the Madrid, and the Eustis railroads joined the others.

The new line became the Sandy River and Rangeley Lakes Railroad.

(lighthearted jazzy music) Business was so good, that by 1911, Maine's largest two foot gauge line caught the attention of the New Haven railroad, which controlled the Maine Central at that time.

At the direction of the New Haven, the Maine Central bought all of the Sandy River's stock, and began operating the line as an extension of its Farmington branch.

The period from 1905 to 1920 was the heyday for the Sandy River and Rangeley Lakes.

All the major lines and the logging spurs had been built.

Profits were secure and steady.

Automobiles had not yet come to the area in great numbers.

The merger of 1911 had increased the efficiency of the system.

It was a bright and positive period for all of Franklin County.

(lighthearted jazzy music) A day on the Sandy River line was generally calm and pleasant, at least during the summer and fall.

Winter on the other hand was full of surprises.

(lighthearted jazzy music) The spring thaw caused genuine emergencies when ballast under the rails washed away, or trestles were threatened by blocks of ice.

(lighthearted jazzy music) Of course, there were the accidents and derailments.

The small size of the line proved to be an asset when men had to haul cars and engines onto the rails by hand, and it kept the damages down.

Usually the pride of the engineer was the biggest casualty.

(lighthearted jazzy music) The war years saw many changes come to the American scene.

Better roads were being built.

Automobiles, trucks, and buses were becoming familiar sights.

Just as the railroad had brought a new level of convenience to the county's transportation and social structure, the trucks, buses and cars carried the convenience many steps further.

The war years accelerated Franklin County's plunge into modern times.

The railroad came through these war years in good shape, and reaping profits for its parent, the Maine Central.

But by 1922, passenger traffic had begun to decline.

The automobile was making its presence felt.

Freight traffic began declining too, because timberlands were being thinned out.

(lighthearted jazzy music) If a declining traffic base wasn't enough, the line suffered from a number of setbacks it could ill afford.

The railroad had experienced round house fires before, but none so devastating as the fire of February 12th, 1923.

Nine locomotives were inside the roundhouse at the time, and only two made it out without damage.

Later that day, the snow began to fall, and it continued for two straight days.

What engines were left ran plow trains to maintain some semblance of service.

Losses for whatever reason continued to mount, and the Maine Central decided to sell out.

It was July 7th, 1923, when Josiah Maxi of Gardner, and Herbert Wing of Kingfield became the court appointed receivers of the line.

Maxi was a banker, and Wing a businessman.

It was felt that if anyone could get the line operating again profitably, these two men could.

Engines were sold, and service was cut back to trim operating expenses.

When winter arrived, the timetable showed but one passenger train between Farmington and Phillips, and a connection at Strong for Kingfield.

May 1925 saw an unusual solution to excessive operating expenses.

The ingenious men of the Morton Motor Car Company of Farmington converted one Ford and Reo truck to operate on the rails.

They were called railbuses, and were to serve the county extremely well.

They were a bit uncomfortable and had little charm, but their virtue was in their inexpensive operating costs.

12 passengers, an engineer, and a conductor was all they carried.

But for the railroad, at that time, it was enough.

In 1926, rails finally began to be torn up, starting with the no longer used logging spurs.

The first to go was the line between Bigelow and Carrabassett.

The Great Depression forced even more cuts.

Employees took pay cuts, passenger and freight trains were combined, and the mixed trains became commonplace sites.

The line putted along until drastic measures were needed in 1932.

As a last ditch effort, the owners decided to take a gamble.

Perhaps if the railroad were shut down for a while, the local businesses and patrons would realize how much they needed the line, or so the owners reasoned.

The railroad stopped service on July 8th, 1932.

The cars were stored, the engines put away, and the doors locked.

It was terribly quiet in North Franklin County for the rest of 1932 and early '33.

In April, the announcement was made that the railroad would resume its operations in May.

The railroad cut expenses even further, but despite local support, the freight business didn't cover its expenses.

In 1935, it was obvious that more attempts to save the line would be pointless.

Nevertheless, the county was stunned when it was announced that the railroad would be sold at auction on May 8th of that year.

A scrapping outfit bought the line for $20,200, and a month later resold it to another scrapping firm, the HE Salzburg Company of New York.

Salzburg wired Phillips that the railroad was to cease operations on June 30th, 1935.

Scrapping began immediately and continued through most of 1936.

A few cars were sold locally, but most of the cars were taken to Holland's Pit a few miles from Phillips.

The wooden bodies were tipped off the wheel trucks and burned.

Scrapping of the engines began in August.

One after another, they were hauled out of their stalls, onto the turntable to be cut up.

Number 24 escaped the torch when a local resident bought it, but it too was scrapped when metal was selling for a premium.

Numbers 9 and 18 were set aside to pull the scrap trains, but number 23, the largest of the engines, with the most illustrious career, was not spared.

The trucks from the box cars were tied together and hauled to the scrapper, where they too were quickly cut apart.

The rails north of Kingfield were pulled up by July 1936, and the southbound tearing up crew reached Strong in mid-August.

It was September when the rail scrapping crew reached the Farmington yard.

Soon afterward the fires of number 9 and number 18 were dropped, and they too were cut up on the spot.

Today, Franklin County boasts great hunting, ski resorts, beautiful scenery, but little industry.

In 1982, the Maine Central itself pulled out of the area, when it tore up the old Androscoggin Railroad line that ran into Farmington.

Trucks have picked up the business the railroad left behind.

Strong and Phillips are less populated now, and no longer the centers of activity they once were.

Preservation of the railroad's memory continues today.

The Phillips Historical Society is the keeper of many artifacts, the old photos, and the story.

Not much is left, but it is enough to provide a glimpse of the people and of the era that was the heyday of the whole county.

And you can take a ride on the only section of the track that remains.

The Sandy River Railroad Park travels on a section of the old Phillips and Rangeley line, and uses an actual Sandy River and Rangeley Lakes car that was spared the indignity of scrapping.

The Sandy River Railroad and its companions were built by men with a vision.

They saw that their county would be opened up and developed by a railroad which they themselves would have to build.

It was a business.

This was one business though that was hardly cold and impersonal.

Everyone in North Franklin County had some contact with the railroad.

They either worked for it or knew someone who did.

It ran through their backyards, brought the doctor at a moment's call.

It stopped to pick you up, or let you off at your own home.

This railroad not only served as the link to the outside world, but for 50 years it linked the people of the county with each other.

Although several buildings, cars, and a few bridge abutments still can be found, not a great deal remains of the Sandy River and Rangeley Lakes Railroad today.

What is left is a reminder of a better time for the people of North Franklin County.

It stands as a testament to those individuals who built the railroad and worked for it.

It is they who can claim that they brought the future to their towns and their county.

Franklin County, Maine.

I'm Chuc Halstead.

(lighthearted banjo music)