While we're on the subject of trains...

There is a wealth of information and stories involving trains in Danville as far back as my access to the Register & Bee archives reaches. In the 1920's, trains were still the preferred method of long distance travel and delivery of goods.

I grew up within ear shot of the train tracks. For 22 years, in fact  -- save for a month where I lived with friends in Woodberry Hills at the end of 11th grade after my parents moved to Topsail Island. When I was born, we lived at Sutherlin Place, the townhouses on Holbrook Avenue. Then we moved to Southwyck Farms, and finally to Forest Hills. Plus, my grandmother lived at Stratford House. In fact, when I moved to Greensboro to go to UNCG, I lived right by the train tracks. During my junior year, people who lived in the same building as I did complained about the sound of the trains at night. To which I replied: "what trains?" I never really noticed them. In fact, on the rare occasion I do hear them at night, it always makes me tired because I grew up hearing them late at night when everything was quiet, and I knew it was time for bed.

In the 1920's, however, trains were a constant presence in Danville. They travelled to the mills, lumber yards, coal yards, and brick yards, and brought people in and out of town from great distances. Cars were still relatively new and safety measures such as crossing signals did not exist yet. The basic principle when arriving at a train crossing in a car was to "stop, look, and listen."

Though it was a pretty simple concept, it did not always work. Especially at one particular railroad crossing: Stokesland Avenue. For those who don't know street names, this is the train crossing that is closest to the Hardee's on West Main Street. When approaching this crossing from Stokesland Avenue, going towards West Main Street, you're going up a hill and it wasn't always possible to see the trains coming. Many people who approach the crossing, see the train, and try to gun it across the tracks before the train arrived; thus stalling out their engines. Others would simply panic and throw the car into high gear at a low speed, thus stalling the engine. This is one of those stories.

Looking up the hill at the Stokesland Avenue railway crossing

On July 13, 1923 one man saved the life of a woman and her child after their car stalled on the train tracks. Robert Lester Shaw, a 23 year old who operated the card room at Schoolfield Mill was walking home from work when he encountered Captain Will Wilson working on a car near the Stokesland Avenue crossing. Shaw, who formerly worked for the railway, knew Wilson and stopped to speak with him. While the men were chatting, Mrs. C. A. Gillispie and her four year old daughter, Iris, were on their way to the mill to pick her husband. Her view of the tracks was obstructed by a bank and she was unable to see an on-coming train. She began to cross the tracks in a low gear, panicked, threw the car into high gear, and stalled the engine.

With adrenaline pumping, Shaw sprung into action. He was about 15 feet away from Mrs. Gillispie's car when it stalled out and, seeing the on-coming train 45 to 50 feet away, ran to the car. He grabbed Mrs. GillIspie and pushed her behind him before turning around and grabbing the child from the car. As he cleared the tracks with the girl, the train struck the car. Shaw recalled being 5 feet away when the train struck and seeing part of the car's engine high in the air and hearing the squeals and groans of the train's brakes. Through the ordeal, Mrs. Gillispie was concerned with her child, screaming "save my baby! save my baby!" as she was removed from the car.

When the train was finally stopped, some 200 yards away, the conductor approached the group of people who have gathered and demanded the name of "the man that saved those two." He collected the names of witnesses and upon arriving at the train station reported the incident and indicated a "desire to shake the hand of the man who saved those two."

Mr. Gillispie was notified at work and immediately went to the scene. The Bee noted that Gillispie had Shaw over for dinner and a friendship was forming that was "sure to last."

The Bee made an investigation, followed-up with witnesses, and submitted the story to the Carnegie Foundation in New York to nominate Shaw for a Carnegie Award. Mr. Gillispie, as well, wired the foundation in support of Shaw.

Of all the stories I've encountered about Danville in researching the house, this is one that I wish had not been lost to time. It's such an amazing story of unbridled heroism, and has since been lost and forgotten.