Sepia Saturday 570: Shadow of Frankenstein

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I've got a special box of several dozen photos sporting my father's white ink captions. The ink bottle and the special pen he used were stored in the same drawer as our photo and negative boxes—both of which I sort through when recalling days of my childhood. During Canadian winter weekends when it was too wickedly cold to go outdoors, when the jigsaw puzzle was finished and it was too early for cocktails, Dad would get out the most recent photos, his pen and ink, and catch up on the labeling. 

At the time I thought the photo captions were corny and that he was defacing the images. Actually, I was five years old in 1947 and I probably didn't have an opinion at all. It was later, during my early teens, when I knew everything, that I remember criticizing my father for this practice.

Since then, I've learned a lot and realize what a good idea his notes were. Dad's been dead for almost sixty years and aside from one diary in which he wrote sporadically, I have little tangible evidence of his wit; these photo notations capture some of it; even though he's not actually in most of these photos, the notations make him a part of them. I wish I could go back in time and apologize to him for my baseless teenaged righteousness. 

The "Shadow of Frankenstein" note, referring to himself as the photographer, was both amusing and a bit macabre. I like the way he fit the writing across the shadow. It's another clue to his creativity and my match for the prompt.

I wondered what my Uncle Louis (on the left) and the other man (unknown) were doing out in a field dressed in their office attire? The date turned out to be a major clue and explained that knot of people in the background.

September 1st, 1947, the day before this photo, thirty-one people died in a disastrous train wreck in Dugald, Manitoba. The Minaki Camper's Special, a seasonal excursion railroad service, loaded with students and families riding the rails back to Winnipeg after the long weekend, hit a standing train in the station, head on. It was one of the ten worst train accidents in Canada. 

From the Manitoba history website: 

"Fire spread at a frightening rate, as the old wooden coaches of the Minaki Special were lit by gas lamps. Only seven of the victims could be identified and the remaining 24 were buried in a mass grave at the Brookside Cemetery, Winnipeg."

The wooden passenger cars were flimsy and Pintsch gas lights used in them ran on a compressed fuel gas derived from distilled naptha and stored in tanks. These lights were brighter than the alternatives of the time, but unfortunately the gas was very flammable. 

From the Lethbridge Herald, the Lethbridge ,Alberta newspaper, Sept 3rd, 1947:

"While relatives and friends returned to the Transcona morgue again today, hoping that in a second visit they might recognize jewelry as belonging to the missing, work was resumed at Dugald of clearing away the maze of debris covering the tracks by the little red-walled flag station. Their overnight rest was the first the workmen had had since the collision took place late Monday. Even before they retired last night carloads of spectators thronged the area, anxious to get a first-hand glimpse of the wrecked train.

Twelve R.C.M.P. constables were needed to control the traffic, while others were constantly on the alert to prevent the almost 10,000 visitors from pushing their way through the ash-strewn wreckage. Today the number of visitors was down, only the odd automobile stopping at the small village. Workmen continued sifting through the ashes and police officials said that some of the dead would probably never be discovered, even if the sifting continued for a week, so devastating had been the flames which swept the train."

I'm assuming my Dad, my Uncle and their friend decided along with 9,997 others to rush over to Dugald (population in 2011 was 384), fourteen miles from Winnipeg, to take a look. We didn't own a car in those days, but I presume Uncle Louis had one. The crash site must have been an incredible situation to keep under control with only twelve RCMP constables on duty and 10,000 rubberneckers! My guess is that the two men in my photo are "playing" in response to having viewed the gruesome scene; a bit of comic relief perhaps. Maybe they were simply stretching their legs before returning to their car. Dad must have taken the camera along with him thinking they'd record the event, but if he got any photos, they weren't in the photo box. Maybe he thought better about keeping disturbing photos of the wreckage at home.  Here's one from the scene on that horrible day after. 

Transcona Historical Museum

I wonder how many people caption their digital photos? —now that we have 60,000 (like me) or millions, like some?