If you visit historic Heritage Park in McDonough, one of the attractions you’ll see is a replica of a train engine with the number 7 on it. The replica commemorates “old #7,” an important landmark in Henry County history, marking what is often called “Henry County’s Titanic.” Since 2021 is the year of our Bicentennial, it seems fitting to look at this part of our past — the Camp Creek train wreck.
Imagine for a moment a June night in rural Henry County in 1900. A train traveling from Macon to Atlanta is passing through. There is no electricity so it’s pitch dark. Now add to that a torrential rainstorm which caused the normally placid Camp Creek to swell its banks and lap away at the bridge’s underpinnings. This was a recipe for disaster.
There were fewer than fifty people on the Southern Railway #7 that night, a mixture of business and personal travelers. As the train approached the thirty-foot crossing, the engineer saw that the embankment had washed away, but the train was going too fast to stop. The engine and its two cars plummeted into the raging Camp Creek. The cars were filling up with water as people tried to get out and climb up the steep bank. To add to the horror, the crash also caused the cars to burn. As awful as the fire was, it at least provided some light for would-be rescuers. One such rescuer could perhaps be regarded as the hero of the day. J.J. Quinlan had been a railroad employee for a few months when the crash thrust him into the spotlight. At first he was trapped in the wreckage with water pouring in around him, but he was determined to get out of the car and help. His aim was to rush back to the depot in McDonough and convince the agent to stop any more trains scheduled to move through the area that night. He knew a freight train was due shortly, and if allowed to continue on from McDonough, another tragedy would be heaped on the first. Along his route to McDonough and after arriving at the depot, Quinlan also alerted private citizens, including some doctors, about the crash. He was instrumental in organizing a special train to take these various volunteers to the site. As word spread about the disaster, many more nearby citizens rushed to help, some bringing ropes to pull people up the bank. Because of heroic efforts on the part of Quinlan and other railroad employees, passengers, and local citizenry, nine of the 48 people survived. Sadly, the remaining were either killed by the impact or burned to death.
Coming back to the 21st Century, let’s think about how our community would respond. There’s the crash, the rain, the dark, the rushing water, and the fire to deal with. Today Henry County is a vastly different place. We have the advantages of electricity, better engineering of the bridges, emergency personnel of all types, and rapid communication. We’ve come a long way in 120+ years; we have a lot to be proud of. But we owe it to our early citizens like those connected to this disaster not to forget their contributions. They helped to make us what we are now. Happy Bicentennial, everyone.
[For the information contained in this article, this non-native would like to thank three sources: True Southerners by county historian Gene Morris; In Atlanta or in Hell by Jeffrey C. Wells; and the scores of library users who shared family stories with me over my career with the Henry County Library System.]
