W.C. Meyers

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Meyers was the newsboy on passenger train Number Two, and at the moment of the wreck he was inside the second-class coach along with the conductor and a handful of others. Even though he suffered something more than an average paper cut while peddling his papers, he managed to survive the wreck. Norfolk & Western recorded that this Roanoker received a gash across his forehead, but little else was documented concerning Meyers.¹

The 1888 and 1889 Roanoke city directories listed only one Meyers, an Israel Meyers noted one year as a lumberman and the other year as a tanner.² ³ There were several others that resided in Roanoke at that time who were known by the alternate spelling of Myers, but there are no particular details that suggest any of the Meyers in that area were related to the newsboy working the late shift the night of the wreck.

Do you think you know who the W.C. Meyers was on the train that night? If you think he might have been an ancestor of yours, or if you have some additional information that might help identify him I’d love to hear from you. Thanks!

Sources

Fourteenth Annual Report of The Railroad Commissioner of the State of Virginia, J.H. O’Bannon Superintendent of Public Printing, Richmond, VA, 1890: p. xlv. http://books.google.com/books?id=CFopAAAAYAAJ
T.M. Haddock, Roanoke, VA., City Directory, 1889, p. 102.
T.M. Haddock, Roanoke, VA., City Directory, 1888, p. 86.

I was greatly surprised to hear that an accident had occurred at this culvert, as I regarded it as one of the safest on the line.

The wrecked cars burned with a fierceness that could not have been equaled if every stick of timber had been soaked in oil.

In the morning we found that there were four or five houses around the wreck. We screamed and the men yelled, but nobody seemed to have come to our relief. With all the noise I don’t see why those people could sleep, anyhow

I will not leave, ladies, until I see you all safe; I am a Virginian.

The shrieks and groans of the imprisoned victims could be distinctly heard from the bank.

I have stood on the battlefield, and heard shot and shell rattling around me, and seen my comrades falling like leaves in autumn, but I have never seen anything that curdled my blood with horror or moved me to deeper depths of compassion than the scenes of that dreadful night.

There never was such a rain fell on me to my recollection. Yes, sir, it was a scary time.

Little pieces of bodies could be seen, and were gathered in, and in some cases ashes, though most of the burned bodies in the shape of ashes had been washed away.

We have no knowledge of Mr. H. B. Wheeler whatsoever. If he was on the train that was wrecked he has not been accounted for, and I presume has been lost. His body has not been recovered, but may have been burned in the wreck.

It rained so it looked like it would take my breath away.

When I visited the scene you could not find wood enough to make a door, so complete had been the wash away and consumption by fire.

We may not know where their ashes slumber, but God himself will keep a faithful watch over their sacred dust.

The air was very still when I came out and the rain was coming down very steadily, but from the direction of the mountain, I heard very distinctly a very loud noise, a heavy rumbling in the clouds, that sounded something like an earthquake.

I just stayed there and did not know what to do, but just think on the Lord and asked him to spare me.

It was different from any rain I ever saw in its violence, and duration.

I never passed through a more terrible experience in my life, and I assure you I have no desire to participate in such another.

It was the most horrible thing I ever witnessed.

The first I recollect when I came to my senses I was halloing for help.

Oh, to see the wounded—all is a picture before me continually, and I never will again travel in the night.

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