Airline passengers who have made short shrift of the in-flight magazine and are keeping a sharp eye on the magazine rack for someone to return a dog-eared copy of Newsweek or Ladies' Home Journal may wish to contemplate what was available to some travelers during the heyday of the railroad—a "real" library. In the days when rail travel could be leisurely and luxurious, a car having as part of its accoutrement a few shelves or a full cabinet of books for the use of the passengers seems to have been a not uncommon feature of trains offering first-class accommodations. But it should be emphasized that immigrants, traveling salesmen, families on a budget, and other assorted second-class citizens were not provided with libraries. For them, rail travel still meant a hard bench and their own book or magazine, purchased at a station kiosk.

            During the 1850s and 1860s, railroads began heavy competition for first-class passengers as the expanding network of rails made it possible to travel, sometimes for days, to almost any part of the country, and as the prosperity of the "Gilded Age" provided more people with the means. George Pullman had proved with his sleeping cars that travelers would pay for the luxury. The development in 1887 of the "vestibule," or flexible covered connection between cars, made it safe for passengers to move about the train, and railroads soon began attaching parlor cars to their crack trains. The parlor car shortly thereafter developed an offshoot usually referred to hyphenatedly as the "library-buffet-smoker" car, as it generally combined all of these functions. In some cases they were also part of the observation car. These extra cars did not, of course, directly produce any revenue for the railroads, but they did contribute to the sense of luxury they tried to convey, and so to their competitive edge. One must admit, however, that a small collection of reading matter is not an unreasonable addition to a conveyance aboard which people will spend some time in relative isolation from the world. Steamships have had libraries for years. But their presence on trains is less well known.

            As early as 1882 the Pennsylvania Railroad is reported to have run a parlor-library car on its New York to Chicago express, but their common usage, along with other luxury cars, awaited the introduction of the vestibule. The Pullman Company placed some of these cars on the Pennsylvania Railroad in 1887, and later that year the Wagner Palace Car Co. responded to the competition by introducing similar new equipment on a Chicago express train. The description of this equipment mentions two parlor cars, two sleepers, a diner, and a library-buffet-smoker, all with "elegant but unobtrusive" interiors by Louis Tiffany. The library-buffet-smoker also had bath facilities and a barbershop. By far the most luxurious train to include a library car was the Santa Fe de Luxe, which began running in the 1890s from Chicago to Los Angeles once a week, and was limited to sixty passengers. In addition to the temptations of other express trains, it offered both a shower and a tub, daily market reports, and a stateroom with a brass bed.

            A number of railroads appear to have run library-buffet-smoker cars, always on their express or "limited" trains. In 1903, Pullman had forty such cars in operation on various lines. One finds references to them as late as the 1920s. An early picture of the library compartment on one such car, probably from the late 1890s, shows that the decor corresponded to the taste of the day: thick carpet, heavily upholstered oversized chairs, dark wood paneling, and floor-to-ceiling dark wooden bookcases which protected their contents behind glass doors. One may estimate from the picture that the cases might have held 100-200 volumes. Photographs of later arrangements suggest that less and less room was devoted to housing books as time went by, and that they no longer occupied a separate compartment.

            It has not been possible to identify specific titles that were available to passengers. However, descriptions and comments from a number of sources suggest the type of material that could be found. We learn that passengers on one line had access to the railroad's "library and magazine file." Another description mentions the "small library of popular classics"; yet another the "well selected assortment of standard works." And an advertisement for the Sunset Limited in 1913 describes, as one of the inducements to ride, the "free library of latest fiction, also illustrated weekly and monthly magazines." In short, this was the kind of material most travelers have always liked to read: light, pleasant, and not too demanding.  There is also little information on either the process for stocking the collection or the loan procedures. Most likely the porter maintained any loan records that might be required.

            Eventually library cars disappeared from the trains. The exact reason for their disappearance is unclear, but it may be that the advent of paperbacks and other cheap reading matter made them unnecessary. It has been suggested, somewhat tongue-in-cheek, that upon the repeal of Prohibition, the "library quiet" of the parlor car was replaced by the "tavern-like conviviality" of the lounge car. Certainly drinking, along with reading, has long been a favorite pastime of travelers.

            The Chicago and Alton Railroad was by no means a pioneer in providing libraries aboard its trains. It would seem that such service began only on the Alton Limited around 1900, after the railroad had been sold to new owners and undergone extensive renovation. The C & A traced its roots back to 1846, eventually developing a triangular route between Chicago, St. Louis, and Kansas City. In its earlier days it had broken new ground by introducing George Pullman's redesigned sleepers in 1858. The C & A also carried President Lincoln's body on the final leg of its journey to Springfield. In 1900, the Alton Limited was probably the premier train of the ten or eleven the C & A ran daily, leaving Chicago every morning at 11:00 a.m. and arriving in St. Louis at 4:30 p.m.

            The New York Times Literary and Art Supplement for 7 April 1900 took note of the Chicago and Alton's new library in terms that suggest the use of a bookplate for such collections was exceptional, and intimated that the usual technique was to "merely stamp [the railroad's] name in gilt upon the book covers or to print the name by means of rubber stamps or otherwise on the inside of the volumes, on the title pages, and again on Page 50." The paper also seemed impressed that the railroad had chosen F. W. Goudy, "the Chicago book-plate artist," as the designer. In 1900, Goudy had not yet moved to New York and begun to design the typefaces that were to ensure his lasting fame. (For another instance of the use of a bookplate, in this case on the Santa Fe's California Limited between Chicago and Los Angeles, see California Libraries for July 1963. It is an example of the Santa Fe Railroad's attractive use of Southwest Indian motifs.)

            The design elements of the plate need no explanation, except to mention that the triangle device represents the route of the Chicago and Alton, the three points being, of course, the three principal cities it served. In terms of design, Goudy's work is miles ahead of most bookplates of the period, and although a bit on the busy side, appears quite fresh and undated even today. Perhaps we may agree that it "is simply another indication of the determination of the officials of the Alton Road to be up-to-date in every particular." 

Phillip A. Metzger

Graduate School of Library Science

The University of Texas at Austin