Happy St. Patrick’s Day, everyone!
I was going to name this post “A Tale of Two Beers,” but one tale involves a lot more than two beers, a lot more, and the other tale, while being heavily associated with beer, has in fact nothing to do with beer at all.
These two tales both have rumbling, disasters, and returns.
Rumbling Rail Cars
Imagine a train falling off of the Georgetown Loop high bridge. It almost happened.
August 21st, 1907 started off as a day of reveling. 400 German veterans piled into a Colorado & Southern excursion train at Denver Union Station. The destination: 13,594 foot Mount McClellan. The narrow gauge excursion train left Denver and made a stop in Golden to get some beer. I told you there was beer involved. Yes, indeed. The eight-coach-train curiously included a baggage car. One doesn’t need a baggage car for a one-day excursion, right? Nope, this car wasn’t there to carry baggage at all. A local committee gifted these German vets with more than a few six-packs. Oh, no, the generosity manifested itself in 20 barrels (that’s usually 31 gallons a per container) of beer loaded on the baggage car. And, not just any beer, but the beverage produced in Golden itself since 1873: Coors Beer.
With refreshments now sloshing in barrels in the baggage car, the excursion train wound itself up through Clear Creek canyon, where it took the left fork at Forks Creek, passing Idaho Springs and Georgetown before it began its slithering route along the famed Georgetown Loop where the railroad swings over itself in a canyon on the massive Devil’s Gate Viaduct to gain elevation. Here is where this escapade got a little interesting.
After the train made the first crossing of Clear Creek, it made the complete reverse curve as it continued its ascent on the north wall of the valley, steaming toward the towering 75-foot-high viaduct. At 11:40am the train crew and passengers noticed a rumbling. With the viaduct coming closer and closer, the engineer and fireman, scanned for the problem. The violently vibrating baggage car, behind the locomotive tender, now askew, had left the track, its wheel rolling over wooden ties and ballast rock. Within moments the train would scale the bridge. That errant car would likely take a good portion of the train off the bridge and plummet into the valley below. The engineer called for brakes.
Rumbling Raiders
Over 1600 years earlier, a teenager heard a surprise rumble as well. That teen would later become the namesake for St. Patty’s Day, a holiday now inextricably tied to beer in popular consciousness. You may be disappointed to find out that while the holiday is now, for many, an Irish-connected beer fest, its origin has nothing to do with beer nor an Irishman.
Patrick, or Maeywn Succat as his parents named him, was neither an Irishman, nor did he chase snakes out of Ireland. Despite legends that today surround him, we know his actual story because he wrote it down in what is known as the Confession of St. Patrick.
Patrick grew up a country boy in a Christian family in what is today England. He did not take the faith of his parents with much seriousness. He noted, “I did not then believe in the living God, not even when I was a child. In fact, I remained in death and unbelief until I was reproved strongly.” That reproof began with a frightening rumbling. At age 16, Irish raiders roared into his village and abducted many, including Patrick. The scared souls were then sailed to Ireland to be sold on the slave market. Patrick became a slave to an Irish pig and sheep farmer.
Disaster Averted
The passengers of the eight-car train lunged forward from their seats as the train came to a screeching halt.
When the train finally ceased motion, it was so close to the towering bridge that the pilot stuck out onto trestle.
Disaster had been averted. Had the derailed baggage car made it onto the bridge, it could have easily slid off of the side and pulled the engine and some of the coaches down the mountainside 75 feet below.
What was the culprit of this nearly fatal accident? You guessed it: beer.
The best conclusion the crew could come up with is that, as the train rounded the curve at the first creek crossing in the Loop, the 20 barrels of festive liquids shifted to one side, throwing the car off balance and, in time, off the track. The reasoning seems a bit odd. The train had to have been moving at a good clip to slide those barrels over. And even if that did happen, rail cars are designed to carry heavy loads. Whether the beer-barrel-accusation is accurate or not, it made for entertaining Denver Post journalism where the event hit the news.
Disaster Converted
In Ireland, Patrick’s disaster was not averted, but it was, in time, converted. The young slave, stripped from his homeland and family, fed pigs and worked for his master. In his loneliness he began to call out to the Jesus of his childhood even, according to Patrick, praying 100 times a day. He wrote, “the Lord opened up my awareness of my lack of faith. Even though it came about late, I recognised my failings. So I turned with all my heart to the Lord my God, and he looked down on my lowliness and had mercy on my youthful ignorance.”
After six years of forced labor, one day he believed God told him to go to a ship waiting for him. He managed to escape and walk 200 miles to the coast where he boarded a ship sailing for his beloved homeland.
Frustratingly, the ship was blown off course and landed in an uninhabited area. As the crew and Patrick wandered, they ran out of food. At the request of the crew, Patrick prayed for sustenance, and they miraculously came upon a herd of wild pigs and survived. At last the ship set sail again and Patrick made it back to his shocked and overjoyed family in England.
Return Home
It took two hours to re-rail the baggage car on the cusp of the Loop high bridge, but the German vets got on their way at last. At the end of the C&S line in Silver Plume, the Argentine Central took over the C&S train with one of its Shay engines. The Argentine Central was a mining railroad also popular with summer tourists built using switchbacks to climb the side of a precipitous mountainside. The Argentine engine hauled the veterans to the top of the nearly fourteen-thousand-foot Mount McClellan offering stunning views of the surrounding valleys.
After their brief visit, the party descended back down the mountain, rode the Loop back, and returned to Denver by starlight singing old German war songs through Clear Creek Canyon (and likely emptying those pesky 20 barrels). The Denver Post noted that the vets expressed “appreciation of the courtesy of the Argentine Central officials.” No praise for the C&S, though. Something tells me the beer incident might have spurred a few bad reviews.
While our vets, like Patrick, made it home safely, Patrick didn’t stay.
Return to Slavery
Patrick, now back home, studied to be a leader in the Jesus-following community of his home. This is where he picked up the name Patrick. Yet, he had recurring dreams, including one of an Irishman saying, “We beg you, holy boy, to come and walk again among us.” Despite resistance from both family and friends, he made the trip back to the land of his slavery, risking his life repeatedly against hostile pagan priests and Irish leaders.
Like that trusty derailed C&S train that pressed on despite the setback, Patrick took the danger in stride and persisted in his calling, noting, “I am greatly in debt to God. He gave me such great grace, that through me, many people [in Ireland] should be born again in God and brought to full life… How has this happened in Ireland? Never before did they know of God except to serve idols and unclean things. But now, they have become the people of the Lord, and are called children of God.”
Patrick spent the rest of his life sharing the story of God coming to earth in the form of a man, Jesus, who offered reconnection with God and forgiveness for our failures through trust in His death and resurrection. Many Irish people responded to this message and found themselves filled up, not with beer, but with the love of Jesus the Savior.
Beer?
So, how did beer get attached to St. Patrick’s Day? Beats me. That’s for some other historian to figure out. It likely has something to do with the evolution of the Irish-American version of an ancient Irish holy day. But, one thing I do know is this: if you’re riding a train to the St. Patty’s Day parade, keep an eye on those sliding barrels when the train rounds a curve.
