Private agendas and the public good: The contested development of high-speed passenger rail transport in the United States

On 1 May 1971, Secretary of Transportation John A. Volpe boarded a Metroliner train in Washington, DC. The event marked the formation of Amtrak, and with it a growing consensus that conventional passenger service had imposed a catastrophic financial burden on the nation's railroads. If Amtrak embodied the last vestiges of past transportation patterns, then Metroliner represented the future. The new experiment in high-speed rail (HSR) was a cooperative effort by government and business, one designed to satisfy both public and private goals. Proponents hoped that the service would entice passengers to return to trains and prove that the United States could emulate and perhaps surpass transportation technologies developed in Japan and other nations. For nearly three hours Volpe and 126 invited guests chatted with reporters as the Metroliner sped through the most densely populated region of the country. When they reached New York City, Volpe and his colleagues praised America's sole experiment in HSR travel. More than half returned to the capital by airplane. ¹

OPEN IN VIEWER

Figure 1.

Penn Central board chairman Stuart Saunders (left) and Transportation Secretary Alan Boyd (right) inspect a model of the Metroliner, America’s answer to the Japanese Shinkansen. Their smiles belie their radically different visions for railroad transportation along the Northeast Corridor that linked New York and Washington. Source: George D. McDowell Philadelphia Evening Bulletin Collection, Special Collections Research Center. Courtesy of Temple University Libraries, Philadelphia PA.

The limited patronage on the return journey reflected Metroliner's status as a politically useful photo opportunity, rather than a viable means of transportation. Billed as America's answer to Japan's Shinkansen, it was nothing of the kind. The success of high-speed rail in Japan reflected close coordination between politicians and railroaders, a national sense of purpose, and the willingness of government officials to create a single, signature showpiece of the country's post-war recovery. Metroliner, in contrast, attested to fragmented national policy agenda, and an unwillingness to spend more than token sums on research and development.

The structure of the American transportation system ensured that HSR development depended on an uneasy and dysfunctional partnership between the federal government and the private sector. Presidents John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson viewed HSR through the lens of political strategy, as a mechanism to win votes. As a profit-seeking corporation that owned and operated the route linking New York and Washington, the Pennsylvania Railroad (PRR) possessed a radically different agenda. That company's executives were willing to cooperate with their public-sector counterparts, but only to the extent that they could receive subsidies that would underwrite the cost of conventional rail service. They also hoped that cooperation with the government's HSR program would facilitate plans to merge with the competing New York Central Railroad. Because government officials as well as railroaders considered HSR to be a common means to achieve substantially different ends, rather than a cornerstone of national transportation policy, neither the public nor the private sector proved willing to undertake the massive expenditures necessary to reorient travel patterns in the United States. ²

Given the unfavorable comparisons with the sustained development and widespread use of HSR in Japan, China, and many European countries, it is perhaps surprising that the genesis of the Metroliner has received little scholarly attention. ³ This study relies on archival records from the United States Department of Commerce and the Department of Transportation (DOT), the agency established in April 1967 that subsequently assumed oversight for HSR development. Recently released PRR documents provide a countervailing perspective. Together, they suggest the political strategies, competitive pressures, and competing agendas that made the Metroliner a pale imitation of its counterparts elsewhere in the world.

The genesis of American high-speed rail

The Metroliner is best understood in the context of the technological, foreign-policy, and political landscape of the early 1960s. Proponents drew their inspiration from the Tōkaidō Shinkansen connecting Tokyo and Osaka, completed in October 1964. ⁴ The development of Shinkansen coincided with the rapid growth, increased congestion, and growing political influence of the urban region that stretched from Washington north to Boston. In 1961 the French geographer Jean Gottmann published Megalopolis: The Urbanized Northeastern Seaboard of the United States and described the region as “the cradle of a new order in the organization of inhabited space”. The megalopolis was also part of a new political order. John F. Kennedy prevailed in the 1960 presidential election by the closest popular-vote margin of the twentieth century. If the President were to have any hope of re-election, he would need support from the cities of the Northeast. One of his key allies in that process was Claiborne Pell, Senator from Rhode Island. Using information that came directly from Gottmann's research, Pell sought to revitalize the PRR route between Washington and New York, as well as the New York, New Haven & Hartford Railroad that linked New York with Boston. ⁵

Pell's enthusiasm spawned two parallel initiatives, one on behalf of the Department of Commerce and the other by the PRR. On 9 October 1962, Kennedy asked his deputy special counsel, Myer Feldman, to create a task force, including representatives from the Department of Commerce, the Housing and Home Finance Agency, the Council of Economic Advisers, and the Bureau of the Budget. The following June, Commerce Secretary Luther Hodges established the Office of High Speed Ground Transportation, under the direction of Robert A. Nelson. Nelson, a transportation economist at the University of Washington, acknowledged that he “wasn't very much interested in passenger transportation at that time” and that he was “no train buff”. His research was more closely aligned with inland waterways, and he possessed little practical experience regarding railroad operations. He gained his federal post largely because his fellow Washingtonian, Warren Magnuson, chaired the Senate Commerce Committee. Nelson tended to elicit strong and highly polarized opinions. “He was abrasive, difficult, and terribly obstinate”, one federal official recalled. “At times we felt he was either a bloody ass or a genius”. ⁶

The Commerce Department completed a Boston-Washington Corridor Study in November 1963, days before Kennedy's assassination. In early December, with the nation still in mourning, the Commerce Department provided nearly US$1 million toward further research (equivalent to circa today's 8.5 US$ millions). Nelson engaged the engineering consultants Louis T. Klauder & Associates, to assess whether it would be more cost-effective to upgrade the existing PRR and New Haven tracks, or replace them with a completely new route, as the Japanese were doing. ⁷

PRR officials were keenly interested in developments at the Commerce Department. Their goal, however, was to attract federal subsidies for the company's passenger operations, rather than increase mobility for residents of the megalopolis or shift votes to the Democratic Party. By the late 1940s, executives had already concluded that demand for the company's intercity passenger service was rapidly disappearing. The situation mirrored national trends, as unremunerative passenger operations and the onset of the 1958 recession drove many railroads to the brink of bankruptcy. Subsequent investigations by Congress and the Interstate Commerce Commission (ICC) suggested that the elimination of most passenger service was imperative if the railroads were to be saved. ⁸

By the early 1960s, the PRR route between New York and Washington enjoyed a unique distinction – it was the only place in the nation where intercity passenger service more than covered its operating costs. Even as they were endeavoring to discontinue other passenger trains, PRR executives were accordingly receptive to the possibility of saving the one marginally profitable route that remained. In early November 1962 – a month after Feldman organized the multi-agency task force – PRR President Allen Greenough established a committee to evaluate all aspects of the railroad's passenger operations between New York and Washington. James W. Diffenderfer, the PRR's director of special services, took charge of the study in February 1963. Diffenderfer and his staff concluded that the railroad's passenger service between New York and Washington was no longer competitive with highway and air travel. “Thus”, Diffenderfer concluded, “a ‘turning point’ had been reached. Something had to be done to check this downward trend if the railroad was to avoid getting into a heavy deficit situation as had occurred with passenger services in other, less densely settled, portions of its system”. While PRR executives agreed that the future appeared grim, there was little consensus regarding the appropriate response. “We had to decide whether we were going to stay in this service or get out of it,” Diffenderfer observed. “There were arguments in favour of both positions”. ⁹

Although Diffenderfer's committee did not release their report until 16 June, 1963, by March PRR executives had decided to compete for additional passenger business between New York and Washington. Several members of the Diffenderfer committee toured the New Tōkaidō route, as part of an American delegation sponsored by the United Nations Economic Commission on Asia and the Far East. The visit convinced them that the Japanese project represented an unprecedented level of business-government cooperation, one that the PRR could not duplicate. It would cost at least US$500 million (equivalent to circa today's 4.5 billion US$) to emulate the Japanese system between New York and Washington, they concluded. Even if the PRR possessed that much money, it made little sense to challenge the federal government's US$4 billion investment in highway and air travel. “Building a completely new line in the competitive environment of this route was out of the question,” Diffenderfer asserted. He also rejected the possibility of top operating speeds of 240 kilometers per hour (hereafter kph) (150 miles per hour, hereafter mph) informing Greenough that “the large initial investments required for a high-speed rail passenger service to permit the often-mentioned 2½-hour New York-Washington schedules are too great to warrant the risk of private capital.” Diffenderfer reiterated that “private financing of the costs to provide a modernized 100 mph operation is even a risk,” and that “operation at speeds above 200 kph (125 mph) is not presently contemplated.” Diffenderfer accordingly recommended a cautious, incremental approach, “to measure public reaction to improved, more frequent service, faster schedules, smoother and more comfortable rides, various levels of fares and other amenities.” Diffenderfer insisted that only if, “as a result of this demonstration, it was found that a shift could be made toward using a public carrier on the surface, projections could be made to determine the effect of even higher speeds and other improvements for design of future transport needed in that corridor area”. ¹⁰

Given the PRR's poor financial condition, the interest of federal officials in HSR provided the company with an extraordinary opportunity. “At the same time we faced these ‘turning points,’” Diffenderfer observed, “the government had some problems of its own. Increasing expenditure of public funds for air and highway facilities seemed to result only in ever-increasing congestion.” The Commerce Department's Boston-Washington Corridor Study suggested that the federal government might pay for a significant portion of the incremental upgrading program that Diffenderfer supported. In keeping with Diffenderfer's recommendations, the PRR budgeted US$17.5 million (equivalent to today's 149 million US$) for improvements to the tracks between New York and Washington. The expenditure demonstrated that PRR executives were engaged in a good-faith effort to cooperate with the federal government. Railroad officials informed the Commerce Department that additional improvements would require federal funding. Diffenderfer emphasized that speeds matching the Shinkansen would only be possible if the “Government should underwrite a research and development program, covering prototype equipment, catenary and road facilities”. ¹¹

Despite their hesitancy to allocate additional funds to HSR, PRR executives were beginning to appreciate another benefit associated with improved transportation between New York and Washington. On 12 January 1962, the PRR and the New York Central Railroad signed a merger agreement. It would be the largest consolidation in the history of American business, and the resulting company, eventually known as Penn Central, would dominate rail transportation in the Northeast. The merger would require the approval of the ICC, as well as the acquiescence of the United States Department of Justice. James Symes, the PRR's board chairman, was determined to win the federal government's support for the merger. He was nearing retirement, however, and he selected a successor who was a committed member of the Democratic Party and who possessed close ties to the Johnson administration.

After he became chairman of the board on 1 October 1963, Stuart Saunders was willing to cooperate with the Commerce Department's transportation agenda, to secure approval of the Penn Central merger. Louis Klauder, the engineering consultant hired by the Commerce Department, facilitated that process. In April 1964, Klauder had lunch with Howard Butcher, III, a Philadelphia investment banker who was one of the chief proponents of the union between the PRR and the New York Central. He noted that Butcher “seemed very enthusiastic about how much the New York – Washington high-speed railroad service would help the Pennsylvania Railroad.” Butcher “seemed to feel that he might be helpful in suggesting ways in which the Railroad and the Government could work together,” Klauder observed. “His suggestion was that if he and we could find some program that sounded good to him, he would be glad to help us sell Stuart Saunders.” Diffenderfer shared that perception. “If Stuart Saunders hadn't been on the scene”, he observed, the “project wouldn't have gotten started”. ¹²

Federal funding for high-speed rail

By the autumn of 1964, and with the November presidential election fast approaching, Lyndon Johnson gave his support to HSR. On 11 August the Commerce Department provided the President with a summary report based on the Klauder data. The phrase “Northeast Corridor” replaced the Boston-Washington Corridor Study designation and would thereafter be the default name for the project and the region. In October, Johnson instructed the Commerce Department to work with the PRR and the New Haven to test the feasibility of HSR between New York and Boston. ¹³

The November 1964 election gave Johnson a landslide victory, a strongly Democratic Congress, and an increased determination to support HSR. In his 25 January 1965, budget message, Johnson announced that he would “propose legislation to authorize a comprehensive program of research and development on high-speed intercity surface transport”. The President pledged to “begin demonstrations of possible improvements in existing rail passenger services in the Northeast Corridor”. Newspaper reporters suggested, inaccurately, that high-speed travel was something that “most experts consider attainable within two or three years”. Based on political rather than engineering calculations, Johnson insisted that the public would see a preliminary test of HSR prior to the November 1966 midterm elections, with regular passenger service beginning prior to the presidential election two years later. ¹⁴

The compressed timeline required the PRR and the Commerce Department to rely on existing technology and equipment. Johnson entrusted the HSR effort to Alan S. Boyd, who in April, 1965, left the Civil Aeronautics Board to become the Under Secretary of Commerce for Transportation. Boyd possessed considerable experience with all modes of transport, and his appointment was in keeping with Johnson's strategy to establish a new Cabinet agency, the DOT. In June 1965, and in keeping with Klauder's 1964 recommendation, Boyd announced that initial testing would take place on a 32 kilometer (hereafter km) section of PRR track between Trenton and New Brunswick, New Jersey. Boyd promised that the installation of new ties, heavy welded rail, and stronger catenary on the No. 3 Track would increase operating speeds from 130 to 240 kph (80–150 mph) – well above the 200 kph (125 mph) that PRR officials considered prudent. ¹⁵

Johnson's demand for measurable results, prior to the 1966 elections, ensured that the cars employed for testing purposes relied on hurried modifications to existing equipment, rather than the development of new technology. Representatives from the Budd Company intended to exploit their expertize in the manufacture of commuter-rail equipment and replace the now-vanished demand for intercity streamliners. Budd's High Speed Passenger Equipment Study, completed in July 1963, reflected the parallel research efforts undertaken by the PRR and the Commerce Department. By the following May Budd engineers had developed initial specifications, based on designs for commuter equipment referred to as Silverliners that entered service in the summer of 1963. Budd's vice president for sales acknowledged the need “to minimize the time required for engineering and production and to hold all costs down wherever possible”. The Silverliners boasted a maximum speed of only 137 kph (85 mph) and were so new that PRR and Budd personnel had scant opportunity to evaluate their performance. One Budd official privately warned the Commerce Department that “the propulsion apparatus will not withstand continuous 150 mph service. Absent guarantees of a substantial order for new high-speed intercity equipment, however, Budd representatives were unwilling to invest additional funds in research and development. The Budd Company had already allocated US$750,000 to the redesign of the Silverliners, and President Philip W. Scott told reporters that he would spend no more “unless someone backs it up with a development program”. ¹⁶

Scott's comments were directed at members of Congress, who were debating an appropriations bill for an HSR demonstration project. Hearings began on 19 May 1965, and they dragged on for months. When Saunders testified on 30 June, he chose his words with great care, anxious that Congress should provide adequate funding for the PRR, but not enough to enable visionary proposals for an American version of the Shinkansen, an initiative that would do the company no good whatsoever. “As one of the Nation's great transportation arteries”, he reminded legislators, “our Washington-New York line is a readymade base on which fast, high-volume passenger service can be developed quickly and economically”. He predicted that it would cost nearly US$1.5 billion (equivalent to circa today's 12 billion US$) to replicate the Shinkansen between those two cities. Saunders further clarified his position a month later, when he asked Representative Oren Harris, the bill's sponsor, to place a US$90 million cap on appropriations. “This would have a strong tendency to keep the research projects within practical and realistic fields”, Saunders emphasized. ¹⁷

On 30 September 1965, Johnson signed the High Speed Ground Transportation Act. The law allocated US$90 million (equivalent to circa today's 770 million US$) over three years, an amount that paled in comparison to that year's US$275 million for aviation research – to say nothing of the federal dollars spent on highways. Some US$60 million would fund research into conceptual designs, favored by Nelson and a team of engineers at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, for such exotic technologies as magnetic levitation and pneumatic tubes. Congress earmarked less than a third of the money for the development of an American version of the Shinkansen. That money was in turn subdivided into three initiatives. One, also supported by Nelson, attempted to create a truly intermodal travel experience by allowing travelers to drive their automobiles onto railroad cars. The second focused on the development of a gas-turbine train that would operate on the non-electrified New Haven route between New Haven and Boston. That left a mere US$12.9 million for the tests that would determine the feasibility of HSR along the PRR route between New York and Washington. ¹⁸

On 15 April 1966, PRR and Commerce Department representatives signed the contract for a high-speed demonstration project. Sixty pages long, and subsequently amended at least eight times, it was the first agreement between any railroad and the federal government for the operation of a specific passenger service. The Commerce Department directed most of the US$12.9 million allocation toward the purchase of new passenger cars. The federal government also provided much smaller amounts for the formulation of advertising and marketing programs. ¹⁹

PRR officials signed what was essentially an open-ended commitment to rebuild the entire route between New York and Washington. They agreed to upgrade the tracks and catenary and operate six daily round trips between New York and Washington, using high-speed equipment, no later than 29 October 1967. Saunders acknowledged that the PRR would spend “at least as much money and probably more” than the federal government. The contract certainly reflected that sentiment, even though many transportation economists had already cautioned against reliance on private capital for the resurrection of passenger rail service in the megalopolis. Nelson estimated that the PRR would spend between US$20 and US$36 million to upgrade the right-of-way, far more than the amount the federal government was contributing to the project. By the spring of 1970, however, the railroad's expenditure had ballooned to US$65 million, more than five times the US$12.9 million in funding provided by the federal government. It was an uneven arrangement, what one executive labeled “the worst contract ever negotiated in the 120-year history of the Pennsylvania Railroad”. Despite the unfavorable financial terms, Saunders anticipated offsetting political benefits. On 27 April, twelve days after the signing of the contract between the Commerce Department and the PRR, the ICC endorsed the union with the New York Central. “I have no doubt”, Nelson asserted, “that Saunders’ softness in negotiating the contract with the government can be directly related to his feeling that this was one of the things he had to do to get the Penn Central merger approved”. ²⁰

Contested terrain: developing Metroliners

Even though Saunders agreed to implement HSR between New York and Washington, the PRR's engineers had not yet completed preliminary tests along the 20 miles of track between New Brunswick and Trenton. The four modified Silverliner cars would be adequate for testing purposes, but not for regular revenue service. In March 1966 PRR and Commerce Department officials began evaluating bids from various car builders, and soon supported the Budd Company's proposal. The subsequent contract, signed on 6 May, required the Commerce Department to allocate US$9.6 million for six, four-car train sets, with four additional coaches as spares. Almost-daily meetings of the design team, which began on 9 August, included Budd technicians, Louis Klauder and his staff, and representatives from the PRR. It was nonetheless clear that Robert Nelson, the Commerce Department consultant who lacked any significant experience in railway engineering, would have a substantial influence over the design process. “I had far more decision-making power than anyone over at the PRR except for Stuart Saunders”, he boasted. Nelson demanded a top speed of at least 150 miles per hour, even though PRR representatives on the design committee strongly favored 125 miles per hour. He also insisted that all 28 cars be coaches, because he saw no reason why the federal government should subsidize luxury travel. Under pressure from Saunders, Nelson agreed restructure the order to include cars with minimal food-preparation facilities. Saunders, attentive to potential travel demand along the Northeast Corridor, also insisted that parlor cars should constitute a fifth of the order. Nelson refused. Fearing “that this might be the only opportunity to re-equip the New York – Washington service”, Saunders agreed to pay for ten parlor cars with PRR funds. ²¹

The electrical equipment employed on the cars created significant difficulties. The traction motors and control systems could only come from General Electric (GE) or Westinghouse. While both companies boasted a long tradition of manufacturing components for electric and diesel-electric locomotives, neither had much experience with the rigorous conditions that accompanied high-speed operation. As such, there was scant precedent to guide PRR executives. The decision fell to David Smucker, the railroad's vice president in charge of operations. “Rather than face the possibility of being 100 per cent wrong in the choice of a single propulsion supplier”, one PRR official observed, “the railroad could be assured of at least being 50 per cent correct by splitting the propulsion order” between GE and Westinghouse. Had this exercise in technological coin-flipping been limited to the four test cars, still under construction, then mistakes on the part of either supplier would have been of little consequence. With Budd gearing up for full-scale production, however, problems with either company's products could disable a significant portion of the fleet. ²²

In July 1966 Budd's Red Lion, Pennsylvania, plant completed the four modified Silverliner test cars. While each could function independently, Commerce Department specifications required all four to operate in unison on at least four trial runs at a sustained speed of 240 kph (150 mph) for a minimum of six miles. Only then would the federal government pay the Budd Company for the test cars. Budd dispatched the equipment to the PRR's yard at Morrisville, Pennsylvania. Located just beyond the New Brunswick-to-Trenton test zone, Morrisville became the home base for the test cars and then the production models during the lengthy evaluation process. ²³

In September 1966, the PRR selected Robert B. Watson as the coordinator of the Northeast Corridor Demonstration Project. For the next six years he would be the principal liaison between PRR executives, government officials, and representatives from Budd, GE, Westinghouse, and other equipment suppliers. Watson was under intense pressure from Nelson and other Commerce Department officials, who wanted favorable publicity prior to the 6 November midterm elections. Two of the test cars made their public debut at Washington Union Station on 20 October, less than three weeks before election day. Based on optimistic pronouncements from the Commerce Department, journalists anticipated something akin to the Shinkansen. They were badly disappointed. “The press reaction was generally poor”, Watson noted, “mainly because of the confused arrangements, and the inability of those conducting the briefing to convey the true purpose of the cars and the test program”. Shortly after the train arrived in Washington on 19 October, Commerce Department personnel announced that members of Congress would be unable to attend the next day's demonstration. They therefore canceled the planned trip to Odenton, Maryland. Everyone received word of the change – except reporters, who began arriving at 6:30 the following morning. They berated Commerce Department officials, who unilaterally announced that the excursion was on again. By the time PRR personnel assembled a crew, the train left an hour after its scheduled departure time. There were 79 people, including 38 reporters, in the two cars – each of which was crowded with instrumentation, but contained no seats. “The train was late”, complained a reporter for the Philadelphia Inquirer. “Most of the passengers had to stand. The top speed achieved was a measly 85 miles an hour” – well below the promised benchmark of 177 kph (110 mph). The headline that appeared in the Philadelphia Bulletin – “Pennsy Unveils Its Speedy Train – Standing Still” – was even less forgiving. “In order to preclude any future coverage of this kind”, Watson concluded, “the Department of Commerce has asked to call a meeting of all the public relations groups and their respective operating people to set up some ground rules for future PR functions”. Belatedly, those involved in the demonstration project were beginning to appreciate that selling the value of HSR to the American people was as important as the technology that made that service possible. ²⁴

Watson and his colleagues made slow progress during the remaining months of 1966 and into the year that followed. Less than a week after the badly managed debut at Washington, the test cars exceeded 210 kph (130 mph) for the first time. Prudently, Watson favored incremental increases in speed with each test run, to identify and correct any new problems that might develop and to give PRR maintenance-of-way crews sufficient time to complete upgrades to the track. Budd Company officials were less patient, as the Commerce Department would not release payment for the test cars until there had been four segments operated at speeds exceeding 240 kph (150 mph). “We are experiencing considerable pressure from them for unrestricted speeds on the entire test track”, Watson complained, reiterating his philosophy that “the higher speeds must be approached gradually rather than a one-shot 150 M.P.H. run which Budd seems to want”. Given the limitations inherent in the repurposed Silverliners, he observed, “there is considerable doubt that the cars as they presently stand will achieve 150 M.P.H.” Watson was being unduly pessimistic. On 18 November, 1966, on their 27th trip, the cars held a sustained speed of 245 kph (152 mph) for three miles. The success was possible only because shop crews had removed the pantographs from two of the four cars, to reduce the arcing produced by catenary that displayed abrupt changes in height. Watson also ordered an increase in catenary voltage, and he admitted that that procedure “created a highly undesirable condition for the Philadelphia Electric Company which will not be duplicated”. ²⁵

Despite the initial burst of speed, another two months would pass before the cars exceeded 240 kph (150 mph) on four successive trial runs. “Budd is under severe pressure from the Department of Commerce”, Watson observed, “and now has the added threat of unfavorable publicity from the New York Times”. The qualifying runs took place very early on the morning of Sunday, 2 April, 1967 – a time chosen because there was little other traffic to draw current from the catenary. PRR substations sent 14,000 volts surging through the overhead wires, something that never would have been sustainable under normal operating conditions. The first trip remained steady at 100 miles per hour, to ensure the track was in good condition. On the second test, the train accelerated to a maximum speed of 250 kph (155.5 mph), as a hail of dislodged ballast hit the underside of the cars. It took eight attempts, but the cars fulfilled their contractual requirements. ²⁶

While Watson and his staff pushed the test cars to their limits, marketing personnel sought ways to tailor HSR to suit potential demand. Traditionally, PRR conductors tallied both the number of passengers who boarded at each large station, as well as overall patronage. That methodology ensured that yard crews added the correct number of cars to each train but did not measure the origin or the destination of travelers. Commerce Department representatives introduced small pre-punched tickets, which they based on their experience with sales and inventory control procedures employed in retail stores. When fed into a computer, the data provided the first accurate information regarding passenger volumes and demand patterns for each origin-destination pair. Computer simulations also indicated optimal speeds and running times for each section of the route, which assisted in the development of schedules and the issuance of public timetables. Surveys, mock-ups, and other techniques established consumer preferences for food service, seating, and related amenities. The PRR's long-time marketing consultant, the Al Paul Lefton Company, developed a new brand image. Lefton created a logo that resembled two teardrops sliding past one another, evocative of both speed and direction. Lefton's staff considered many possible names for the HSR operation, including Speedliner and Railblazer. Ultimately, they acknowledged the urban character of the megalopolis that stretched from New York to Washington and selected the name, Metroliner. ²⁷

High speed comes to the Northeast Corridor, at last

Ever mindful of the importance of public relations, federal officials scheduled a daytime demonstration run for the benefit of the news media. On 24 May 1967, the test equipment – now the property of the newly established DOT – zipped through Princeton Junction at 156 miles per hour. The reporters and photographers who stood on the station platform offered enthusiastic assessments of the high-speed project. Correspondents received membership cards in the “150 Club”, and in return granted the project favorable publicity. They noted that the brief journey was both smooth and surprisingly quiet, thanks in large measure to the recent installation of continuously welded rail along the route. PRR officials nonetheless took pains to remind them that “this is the four-car electric test train recently delivered to the DOT by the Budd Company. It is not the high-speed electric train being constructed for the PRR by the Budd Company for [the] regular schedule of high-speed transportation between New York and Washington this October”. Road foreman of engines Elton B. Selover, nattily attired in a bright red sport coat, white shirt, and black tie, offered the eminently quotable opinion that “this means the end of the cinder goggles, the bibb overalls and the high button shoes; this is the beginning of a new era”. ²⁸

Even as Selover was predicting a new era of HSR transportation, the project was falling apart. Had the PRR and its equipment suppliers undertaken – and completed – a slow and incremental evaluation of the four test cars, Watson and his team could have resolved many of the problems that they encountered. But, pressure from the Johnson Administration, the Commerce Department, and later the DOT, forced the PRR and Budd to begin building production-model equipment well before the completion of the testing program. It was “almost impossible to achieve the adequate review and evaluation of the car builder's proposals”, Watson complained, “especially since so many of the plans were being submitted in an ‘as-built’ form rather than for approval prior to construction”. David Smucker shared Watson's concerns and chafed at the delays that occurred as Budd employes corrected problems on the production line rather than on the drawing board. “Some day within a reasonable length of time, Budd should have at least two cars de-bugged to an extent which will warrant presenting them to us for acceptance testing”, he complained at the end of October 1967. “Then, for the first time, we will be free to begin to evaluate the performance of the cars that have been built for this service – not for commuter service, not for fruitless running up and down pretending to be testing something more than my waning patience”. Yet, Smucker expressed optimism that the amount of money at stake would encourage Budd and the other equipment suppliers to get their house in order. Given the PRR's “$21.6 million hold on these people”, he concluded, “I am sure that no engineering or scientific stone will be left unturned”. ²⁹

Smucker placed far too much confidence in the coercive value of the US$21.6 million that the PRR promised to pay Budd for the new cars. David Bevan, the vice-president in charge of finance, was desperately trying to find sufficient cash to keep the railroad operating, and he had long cautioned restraint in matters of capital expenditures. To Bevan, the Northeast Corridor project represented an unsustainable drain on the corporate treasury. Even though the DOT's two-year demonstration period could not begin until at least some of the new Budd cars were in service, Bevan did his best to avoid spending money on them. As early as December, 1966 Watson became aware that “one of the reasons for the slow delivery schedule of the new cars is that Mr. Bevan does not want to pay for them until 1968…. It would seem”, Watson concluded, “that the inception of the demonstration train in October, 1967 is not compatible with the desire to delay payment for the cars until 1968”. Several months passed before Nelson, the director of the Office of High Speed Ground Transportation, learned of the subterfuge. When he did, he recalled, “I literally raised hell. For the next three weeks I was sitting on Budd's doorstep. I forced then to put on another production line”. Nelson's obstinacy moved the project forward, but in the process gave the company's engineers and technicians little time to correct the many problems that they were observing. ³⁰

The autumn of 1967 marked the nadir of the HSR project on the Northeast Corridor. Given adverse publicity, federal officials were anxious to produce some meaningful results. Nelson set a new deadline, promising that service would begin on 1 February 1968, “if no more bugs developed”. In September, 1967, Budd delivered the first two Metroliner coaches. The initial evaluation exposed serious problems with the Westinghouse electrical equipment. On 15 November Budd nonetheless sent the cars to the PRR's Morrisville Yard, with two more units arriving in December. During their shakedown runs it soon became evident that Nelson's qualifier had been well-founded, and Watson uncovered more bugs than anyone had anticipated. “There was no favorite failure”, he recalled. “Everything had problems and everyone was in trouble”. Watson's engineers and technicians identified sixteen “major problem areas which persist with little or no improvement”, as well as more than 130 less-serious inadequacies. “In addition to the chronic major problem areas”, Watson complained, “minor spasmodic defects are continually being encountered and corrected only to be replaced by others”. ³¹

The situation was little better when the first of the GE-equipped Metroliners arrived the following March. The GE and Westinghouse systems proved incompatible, delaying the introduction of complete sets of railcars with the proper mix of equipment. Federal antitrust laws prevented GE and Westinghouse engineers from discussing their proprietary technologies unless the meeting included a representative from the DOT and attorneys from both companies. Watson cataloged more deficiencies in the Budd-GE parlor cars and snack-bar coaches than in the earlier Westinghouse cars. Most were relatively minor, however, and sustained evaluation and testing enabled Watson's team to eliminate them one by one. The Westinghouse inadequacies, while fewer in number, were more systemic and not so easily corrected. In early March, 1968, railroad officials placed the Westinghouse cars in storage. They sat motionless while PRR, Budd, DOT, and Westinghouse officials argued over who would bear the financial responsibility for fixing them. ³²

New company, familiar problems

1 February 1968 marked the merger of the PRR and the New York Central, but not the fulfillment of Nelson's promise regarding the inauguration of Metroliner service. For Watson and his colleagues, there was little change in their ongoing efforts to make the cars operational. The pressure to achieve results nonetheless intensified, as did the willingness of every group involved in the project to assign blame to someone else. Saunders admitted that both the railroad and the DOT “underestimated the task we are undertaking”, but asserted that Westinghouse was primarily responsible for the difficulties. The situation at Budd's Red Lion plant was scarcely better. “The severity of Budd's wiring problems is beyond the ability of their own people to handle”, Watson complained. The car builder hired electrical consultants and industrial engineers to improve production efficiency, but with little effect. “The new organization has brought much needed discipline to the project”, Watson conceded, “but Budd's lack of technical expertise and their refusal to acknowledge and to recognize even their own original standards of quality have resulted in unrealistic schedules and prediction and an overall atmosphere of pessimism and futility”. ³³

Despite Watson's plea that “we are involved in a rare set of circumstances wherein technical considerations must take precedence over political considerations”, pressure from Washington was too great for Penn Central executives to ignore. On 17 April, 1968, Transportation Secretary Boyd called onto the carpet representatives of the Penn Central, Budd, GE, and Westinghouse, making clear his determination that Metroliner service should start as soon as possible. He selected Larry Goldmuntz, a rare example of a DOT staff member who possessed significant scientific and engineering expertise, to head a task force that would oversee the implementation of HSR in the Northeast Corridor. Senator Gordon Allott, a Colorado Republican, had little tolerance for the allocation of federal funds in a manner that would only benefit the urbanized Northeast, and he demanded an investigation into the Metroliner situation. “We have nothing to show but a fleet of cars that won't run and a flock of passengers who no longer take the project seriously”, he told Boyd. In early October, in an effort at damage control, Saunders announced that Metroliner service would begin before the end of the year. Boyd expected Saunders to keep his promise, and “made it quite clear that if this program was not in operation before Inauguration Day, there would be some very drastic action taken”. ³⁴

Budd executives, facing severe criticism from federal officials and the news media, sought to deflect blame to the PRR. “Budd's desire to get off the political hook”, Watson observed, induced the company to accelerate deliveries to the railroad. “Budd is trying to swamp us with cars and force us to accept them short of spec”, he asserted. Given Saunders's desire to get at least some equipment in service as soon as possible, it became increasingly difficult for Watson to resist pressure from the Budd Company. “We have allowed Budd to make Morrisville a northern extension of the Red Lion Plant”, Watson complained. “Now that they are in the fish bowl they are exposing all of their deficiencies and it becomes even more important for us to demand a fully acceptable product.” Far from facilitating the implementation of Metroliner service, Budd's increased involvement led to further delays. “Since late February when the Budd Company began to exert more pressure and show greater emphasis on the project”, Watson observed, “the status of the Metroliner testing at Morrisville has changed from disinterested confusion to organized chaos.” That chaos eliminated neither the technical difficulties nor the political scrutiny. “Under these conditions,” Watson concluded, “little progress was established”. ³⁵

Metroliners: technological failure, marketing success

The combination of political pressure and dogged determination on the part of engineers and technicians eventually produced results. On 15 January 1969, a ceremonial inaugural run carried VIPs from Washington to New York. Alan Boyd was on board, as was John A. Volpe, the Nixon appointee who would soon replace him as Secretary of Transportation. So was Claiborne Pell, who took credit for helping to bring HSR to the megalopolis. Assisting passengers were a group of Metro Misses, recruited from the ranks of Penn Central clerks and secretaries and attired in black blouses, orange miniskirts, and engineer caps. At 8:30 AM the following day the first regular Metroliner departed Penn Station. With four days to spare, Lyndon Johnson had fulfilled his promise to implement HSR transportation during his presidency. ³⁶

The Metroliner represented a technological failure, but the success of marketing and publicity. The trains never achieved the 240 kph (150 mph) speeds that Pell had promised in 1962, but he was correct to predict they would capture the public imagination. Travelers and journalists alike were captivated by the sleek and modern equipment, the sensation of speed, and the possibility that a train could beat an airplane's travel time. The interior spaces resembled those on an airplane, with wall-to-wall carpeting, tray tables, individual reading lights, and a stylish Metrolines onboard magazine. Automatic doors, a public-address system, and on-board telephones exemplified modernity. The comfortable parlor-car seats that Stuart Saunders had supported over the objections of Robert Nelson also proved popular. Penn Central executives developed an ambitious marketing campaign to promote the Metroliner and to overcome perceptions of surly trainmen and substandard accommodations. Three thousand onboard, station, and maintenance personnel received intensive customer-relations training. “Service aboard is excellent”, one passenger remarked, “and for a passenger to be treated like a human being aboard an American train is, in itself, something of a miracle”. ³⁷

The Metroliner equipment remained unreliable and frequently under repair. By 1982 all of the original Budd Metroliner cars were withdrawn from service. Metroliner as a brand lasted another four years, then was replaced with Acela, Amtrak's more recent effort to bring HSR to the Northeast Corridor. The Metroliner's significant legacy was the idea of HSR travel, which proved more enduring than the technologically inadequate and politically contested effort to achieve it. In 1965, a spokesman for the Association of American Railroads prophesized what would ultimately become the most important element of the Metroliner project. “Perhaps what is needed most in the public's attitude toward railroading is a psychological jolt”, observed James N. Sites. He emphasized that the Northeast Corridor project represented “a reawakening to the advantages of rail travel – a dramatic new symbol to remind Americans that trains have a vital role to play in the American transportation picture.” In that respect, the Metroliner succeeded. ³⁸