About The Author

Lost at Thaxton is the exciting TRUE story of the people and events of the tragic wreck of the Norfolk & Western passenger train Number Two in 1889. At the time it was the worst railroad accident in the history of Virginia, but the story and the memory of those lost quickly vanished. The country was still absorbing the terrible details still being reported daily from the awful flood in Johnstown, Pennsylvania that took thousands of lives just a few weeks earlier.

The story of those that lived and died in the wreck of passenger train number two was quickly lost in the shuffle. Through extensive research I have set out to not only tell the story of the wreck, but also to tell the story of the people involved. This is not a fictional retelling, but a narrative delivery of the actual stories of those involved.

This story is near and dear to my heart because my family is from the Thaxton, Virginia area, and my great-great grandfather was the railroad’s section-master at Thaxton at the time.

If you have any family history or other information related to the 1889 wreck at Thaxton I’d love to hear from you. Please contact me and let me know.

Thanks!

Michael

Michael Jones was planted in West Virginia and cultivated in South Carolina, with roots extended deep into Virginia soil. He is a graduate of Clemson University, author, entrepreneur, and history lover. His book, Lost at Thaxton, recounts the terrifying 1889 train wreck in Thaxton, Virginia that took place on the section of track managed by his great-great grandfather, Tandy Jones.

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.

About The Author

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