Winter of 1952 Part III

The Brutal Winter of 1951-52

PART III

BY MARK M c LAUGHLIN

Even after 70 years, when it comes to blockbuster winters remembered for sheer impact, 1951-52 is still the one to beat. Potent storms pummeled the Tahoe Sierra with 68 feet of total snowfall measured at Donner Pass.

One incident that made national headlines across the United States was the entrapment of 226 passengers and crew aboard the luxury streamliner “City of San Francisco.” Powerful engines and cuttingedge technology earned it the moniker “a train of superlatives,” but on Sunday, Jan. 13, 1952, the 15-car passenger train was hopelessly caught in deep snow near Yuba Gap, west of Donner Pass.

The following day, after 24-hours of unrelenting blizzard conditions, Southern Pacific Railroad employees were out trying to clear the line. Engineer Rolland “Rolly” Raymond was part of a team operating three rotaries that were cutting toward the snowbound train. When the engineers reached within a quarter mile of the buried streamliner, they climbed down from their machines to discuss strategy. Shortly after they had fired up the engines again in preparation for a final assault, a huge avalanche crashed down on the tracks killing Raymond as he prepared to climb up to his seat in the engineer’s cab.

All three rotaries were smashed and disabled, but the other crewmen survived the slide protected inside their plows. On Tuesday, Jan. 15, the third day of entrapment, Dr. Larry Nelson, a Truckee-based physician, reached the train by dogsled and Sno-Cat with additional medical supplies. The canine team was led by a Samoyed dog named Rex. Known as The Blizzard King,

Rex had a reputation for heroic rescues of snowbound travelers and injured plane crash victims on Donner Pass. Despite blinding conditions and intense snowfall rates, Rex led the sled to the train without mishap.

A brief lull in the wind allowed a Coast Guard helicopter crew to lower more parcels of food, a radio transmitter and another physician to the stranded train. The medical assistance was desperately needed. There had been six heart attacks by that time and at least one drug addict had gone berserk and been locked in a compartment for safety. There were also cases of frostbite, exhaustion and a plethora of imagined ailments as the trapped passengers slowly lost their grip on reality. Fortunately, they were unaware that another 8 feet of fresh snow was piling up on top of the train.

For the first time since the introduction of automobiles, all roads from California to northern Nevada and southern Oregon were shut down by the Alaskan-bred storm system. A veteran highway superintendent exclaimed, “It’s a white hell. Everything’s down. It’s a big blizzard with no beginning and no end.”

By now the wire services had the story and the snowbound streamliner was national news. In another example of the seemingly endless fascination with the Donner Party and cannibalism, some reporters openly wondered if the passengers on board were suffering the same grisly fate.

To help prepare for an eventual evacuation, a relief train brought in 30 railroad section hands of Mexican descent. These men braved the storm in the dark to shovel the drifts burying the streamliner. This same crew also shoveled and stamped down snow for 1,300 feet so able-bodied people could reach the truck and car convoy waiting for them on a newly plowed Highway 40.

One passenger recalled, “In the middle of the night, in a howling blizzard, those men were out there singing [in Spanish] while they shoveled snow away from the windows. It’s impossible to describe how good they made us feel!”

After five days of white-out conditions, the killer storm finally broke on Wednesday, Jan. 16. Wasting no time, relief parties rushed in for the rescue. The cold and weary passengers hobbled to safety along the tracks while the sick and weak were tobogganed or carried in stretchers. Thanks to the efforts of many, including two rescu-

ers who died in the struggle, all the passengers and crew survived their three-day ordeal snowbound in the Tahoe Sierra.

Railroad and highway crews exerted tremendous energy and showed exemplary determination to help the trapped train passengers during the storm. Many of these grizzled and red-eyed warriors worked 70 hours straight plowing road and track. The “City of San Francisco” remained mired in its icy tomb for several more days until an army of 300 workmen and a giant train crane could finally free the $3 million transcontinental streamliner.

For 72 consecutive hours with little rest, Pershing Jay Gold, a 33-year-old employee of Pacific, Gas & Electric, made repeated trips to deliver food and water to the snowbound train. It was a challenging physical effort fighting through the loose snow and it was too much for Gold. Only Gold himself knew that he was risking his life with such exertion due to a preexisting heart condition. Shortly after the passengers were taken from the train, Gold suffered a fatal heart attack and died. An autopsy indicated that he had also been suffering from bronchial pneumonia and pleurisy for several days, but he had never complained. PG&E awarded Gold posthumously its highest decoration “for courage and extreme heroism.” Truckee’s Dr. Nelson also paid tribute by stating, “His unselfish, heroic devotion to his fellow man marked Jay Gold as one in a million.”

While newspapers focused on the dramatic train rescue, mountain communities were getting hammered. Conditions got so bad that on Jan. 9, 1,200 marines bivouacked at Pickel Meadows (Sonora Pass) for a winter survival training course were evacuated. In mid-January an avalanche struck the Twin Bridges Resort near Echo Summit killing two women. Rural hamlets in Plumas County were especially hard hit. The town of Portola nearly ran out of meat, eggs and milk. Grocers rationed their remaining provisions.

There had been six heart attacks by that time and at least one drug addict had gone berserk and been locked in a compartment for safety. There were also cases of frostbite, exhaustion and a plethora of imagined ailments as the trapped passengers slowly lost their grip on reality.

TOP: Utility crews on snowshoes dig out trans-Sierra power lines near Soda Springs. | Courtesy Max Porter ABOVE: Korea-bound U.S. soldier carries a child from the snowbound “City of San Francisco.” | Courtesy Nevada Historical Society

California governor Earl Warren ordered an air drop of much-needed medical supplies for the Western Pacific Hospital located there. Large truck convoys carrying food and oil followed behind advancing plows and bulldozers. Little by little help was getting through.

Stay tuned for the conclusion in our next edition and at TheTahoeWeekly.com.

This article is an excerpt from Mark McLaughlin’s book, “Snowbound: Legendary Winters of the Tahoe Sierra.” n

Read the first two parts of the series and about Rex the Blizzard King at TheTahoeWeekly.com

Tahoe historian Mark McLaughlin is a nationally published author and professional speaker. His award-winning books are available at local stores or at thestormking.com. You may reach him at mark@thestormking.com.