The second in our series on the Long Island Rail Road's contribution to the history of the East End.

It's hard to imagine that just off Edwards Avenue in Calverton was the site of one of the worst wrecks in the history of the LIRR. On a stormy Friday, Aug. 13, 1926, tragedy struck, leading to the deaths of six people on a train called the Shelter Island Express.

At Calverton station, which was little more than a shelter among the trees and farms, the Golden's Pickle Factory had its own track, called a siding, where trains could drop off cucumbers and pickling ingredients, and pick up the finished product.

On the mainline, the Shelter Island Express was filled with tourists, its double engine hurtling toward Greenport. Thunder and lightning had split the sky all that August day and the day before, and the passengers were eager to reach their destination.

Some of the wealthier passengers rode in the parlor car just behind the engine. Among them were a Mrs. Shuford (first name lost to history), and her two young children -- Charles, 3, and Dorothy, 1 -- along with their nanny, Laura Conley, who were all visiting from North Carolina. Another passenger was Harold Fish, an investment broker from Manhattan.

As the first engine, a "camelback locomotive" with the boiler in the middle of the cab, passed over the switch for the pickle factory, its speed and vibration shook the switch mechanism free, a condition railroaders call "picking the switch."

When the second engine, a traditional locomotive, followed, it threw the switch completely and was directed into the siding. This pulled the first engine backward down the track and into the building, where the two engines landed in a heap. The force pulled the parlor car up on end and through the roof of the building.

"The second locomotive caught that switch. The first one went over it. The second one caught it," said John Fisher, the long-serving president of the Railroad Museum of Long Island in Riverhead. "And it went right into the building."

The fireman on the first engine, John Montgomery, and the engineer William Squires, both of Greenport, died in the collision.

As the train smashed into the pickle factory, it broke the second floor, where the salt was stored. Salt rained down on the crushed parlor car, pouring through the now-open roof. Mr. Fish, who was already injured, was quickly buried -- literally rubbing salt into his wounds.

"The car went in, and of course, the car was kind of getting ripped open, and Mr. Fish, who was a big Wall Street guy on his way to his home in East Marion, was injured very badly," Mr. Fisher said. "Workers who were there at the time were trying to keep the salt away from him. And he died because he was smothered and buried in salt."

Farther back in the car, Mrs. Shuford was trapped in the mangled remains of the parlor car. Rescuers used torches to cut her out of the car, a process that took six hours.

"She was in there pretty much all night," Mr. Fisher said. "This thing happened in the afternoon. And as they cut the car apart, with acetylene torches to get her out, she was actually fed a sandwich for dinner."

Mrs. Shuford managed to walk onto a waiting ambulance and was transported to Southampton Hospital, but she died from internal burns caused by the steam. She was never told that her two children were killed instantly in the accident.

Four passengers of the 387 aboard and two crew members died. Mrs. Shuford's nanny, Laura Conley, lost her leg.

According to a New York Times article published at the time of the wreck, "No trains were sent by the railroad to carry the stranded passengers to their destinations, and as the hours passed those who could hire automobiles finished their journey by that method. But hundreds of persons were compelled to walk the five miles to Riverhead and from there to get home as best they could."

An investigation by the District Attorney's office determined that the cotter pin securing the switch was missing. This caused the nut and washer securing the hand lever to the rod that operated the switch to come loose. The pin had been missing for some time due to the condition of the switch.

"It was obvious that there was debris and dirt in the holes that should be clean," Mr. Fisher said.

The Pickleworks never recovered from the damage and was demolished.

Today, only a crumbling shelter south of the tracks remains at the site following the tragedy on what was a very unlucky Friday the 13th.