One hundred and twelve years ago this month, 40,000 people paid good money to be frightened within an inch of their lives.

Gathered on hillsides overlooking a railroad track between Waco and Hillsboro, the crowds came to watch a planned headon crash between two locomotives owned by the Missouri, Kansas and Texas Railroad (usually called the Katy).

The stunt was planned by William G. Crush, a passenger agent for the Katy as the means to generate attention for the railroad and sell a lot of passenger tickets.

Recalling the old gladiatorial days of Rome, Crush wanted something spectacular. The crash site, dubbed Crush for the promoter, was a natural amphitheater between three hills, giving the crowd a good view of the event, which was publicized all over the country.

The year 1896 was also a big political year with William Jennings Bryan's first campaign for president. Crush invited all political candidates to address the crowd of thousands. Several did -- all day long.

Motion pictures were also in their infancy and Thomas Edison sent one of his cameramen from New York to capture the crash on film.

By Bob Bowman The two Baldwin locomotives, Engines 999 and 1001, were somewhat outmoded, but were in good working condition.

Before 5 p.m. on September 15, the two locomotives rolled up to the crash site within a few feet of each other, as if bowing in respect, and then backed off to a point within a mile of the crash scene.

At 5:10 p.m., the engines started down the track at speeds of forty-five miles an hour. The engineers jumped from each train, their throttles locked down, and the locomotives struck headon with such force that both were telescoped into junk. Both boilers exploded at the same time and the air was filled with pieces of metal and steel from the size of a postage stamp to half of a driving wheel. Dozens of people were injured and one of those hurt later died from a head injury caused by a flying fragment of chain.

A photographer who recorded the event was hit in the eye by a fragment, but recovered.

Even as the dust was settling from the crash, people rushed from the hills to collect souvenirs. Everything that could be lifted from the ground was gobbled up by the crowds.

One writer described the aftermath of the crash: "It is a scene that will haunt a man for many, many days, make him nervous when he hears an engine whistle, and disturb his dreams with black clouds of death-dealing iron hail."

When railroad officials started cleaning up the wreckage, they found a railroad watch inside one of the engines. It was still running.

In the months following the crash, lawsuits filled the courthouse and the Texas Legislature banned intentional train crashes.

William Crush, the promoter, ironically did not see the crash and only reached the scene several minutes after it occurred. He later apologized for the injuries and the fatality and was fired by the railroad.

But he was rehired after the company's president decided that the crash had, indeed, brought a lot of publicity to the Katy.

Another observer, humorist Alex Sweet was enthralled and suggested that the next event "be a prearranged, scheduled meeting between a waterspout and a tornado."

(Distributed by the East Texas Historical Assn. Bob Bowman of Lufkin is the author of nearly 40 books on East Texas. He can be reached at bob-bowman.com)