A Bridge in Time

Cannington Viaduct bridged the only significant valley on the deeply rural route of the Axminster to Lyme Regis railway that opened in 1903 and closed in 1965 - it has been out of use for 55 years. It needs major remedial work to make it safe and in the 1980s British Rail offered it for sale at a price of £1 to anyone prepared to pay the cost of repairs. No buyers came forward and a plan was made to demolish the structure.  This plan was abandoned when Historic England designated the viaduct as a Grade II listed building in 1984 since when it has lingered on - valued for its contribution to the landscape but bereft of an economically viable future.

During construction, part of the viaduct slumped due to subsidence and had to be reinforced with the insertion of brick infill.  As a result there’s an unusual but minor switchback on top of the bridge.  Most of the trackbed of the railway was sold soon after closure which makes it difficult to include the bridge as part of a public footpath and given the delicate condition, public access is not allowed.  An unauthorised incursion via the tall (unlocked) metal gate revealed a clear path through much dense, aggressive undergrowth of gorse and bracken. Surprisingly, there’s clear evidence that livestock have meandered on to the bridge.  Only the most determined explorer, equipped with serious cutting gear would have any chance of breaking through the wall to wall undergrowth that forms at the halfway point and reach the other side.  There are fine views across East Devon, north towards Uplyme and south towards Shapwick, although the tall concrete walls make them difficult to obtain.

The black and white photograph above is scanned from an original print made by Devon-based railway photographer, Peter W Gray, who was exceptionally good at recording the passage of trains in the landscape.  The train, made up of a single carriage, has just crossed the viaduct on its return journey to Axminster on February 27th. 1965. This branch line was always a lost cause, only holiday traffic kept it going. Out of season it served a vanishingly small population - the only interim station, Combpyne, was over a mile down a narrow lane from the modest village of Rousdon.  Freight traffic was limited to the occasional cattle or fertiliser wagon. In other parts of the country, lost railway lines with much less to offer have been reborn as heritage railways but the circumstances were just not right for this scenic but resolutely unviable railway. 

 

The Two Lives of Lucius Beebe

Born into a wealthy Boston family and untroubled by the need to earn a living, Beebe (1902-1966) was what used to be known as a bon vivant, socialite, man about town and gourmand. Journalism became his trade and his high society columns in which he reported in person from the battlefront of Manhattan’s most exclusive bars and nightclubs were extensively syndicated across the USA. The expression Café Society is said to be his coinage. Here he is in 1939 in all his foppish splendour on the cover of Life magazine – no mean accolade. Immaculately turned out in top hat and waistcoat with a fine cigar in the grip of kid-gloved hands – the sort of figure that Preston Sturges loved to caricature. Dressing up was his social duty but in another life he was no stranger to dressing down. Because Beebe had another sphere of interest, one that scarcely touched, let alone overlapped with the fashionable pursuits of the haut monde. Having drained his last champagne glass, stubbed out a final cigar, unbuttoned his spats and hung up the handmade suit in his cavernous wardrobe, he would pick up his Graflex camera and, clad in proletarian work clothes, head for the railroad tracks.

Beebe was what Americans call a rail fan – an obsessive trackside photographer and author of numerous railroad books with an interest in the arcane and obscure as well as the mainstream. As a photographer he favoured the unimpeded three-quarter view of the oncoming train that became the orthodox composition for several decades of rail photography. A singular focus on the train, isolated from the wider scene often lead to chronically monotonous results. Leafing through Beebe’s volumes can become a dispiriting experience and the arrival of a new generation influenced by Walker Evans, Jack Delano and Winston Link that sought to locate the subject in context of its surroundings was a welcome development.

With his partner and fellow rail fan, Charles Clegg he criss-crossed North America in his own purpose-built private railcar. Named the Virginia City, it was a mini-Versailles mounted on steel wheels and Timken roller bearings, complete with marble fireplace, gilded chandeliers, private dining for eight guests, a drawing room and three staterooms. In the manner of Charles Foster Kane, an 18th. century Rococo mirror and cornices from a 14th. century Spanish altarpiece found their way on board. Attached to and detached from time-tabled services at the whim of its occupants, this mobile oasis of opulence shone its lustre on the extremities of the North American rail network in the course of a 15 year odyssey. The Beebe legacy is a groaning shelf of volumes on railroads, local history and the leisure pursuits of the super-rich. The railway books have been extensively reprinted and to this day are easily available at modest expense.