This week in Marin history: Farewell to the Crookedest Railroad

Anyone up for a little history escapism? I thought so.

As luck would have it, a year ago today, our beloved “world’s crookedest railroad” officially closed, and I’ve been wanting an excuse to feature this chapter of Marin’s heyday – our very own Roaring Twenties in the redwoods. But first, a preview of what’s on deck this weekend:

Saturday we’ve got Sausalito hosting its 46th Annual Chili Cook-Off, San Anselmo celebrating community with a parade AND the return of FREE PARKING!! followed by LIVE on the Avenue, and Sunday brings us PorchFest in San Rafael.

And, don’t forget that Women’s Self-Defense seminar on Sunday 👊 – see details & more Happenings below.

Thanks for reading & happy trails,

Kim Neumann

This Week in Marin History

September 18, 1929 – Farewell to the Crookedest Railroad

Imagine ferrying over from San Francisco, decked out in your best ‘20s out-of-doors fashion (including hats–apparently non-negotiable back then), hopping a little train in Mill Valley, and choo-chooing your way up Mt. Tam in an open car. Steam whistle blowing, 281 curves in just eight miles, gorgeous Bay views at every turn.

Tavern of Tamalpais

At the top, the Tavern of Tamalpais offered dancing and food. And of course, the main attraction: gravity cars with their rows of wooden pew-like benches, brakemen at the ready — that coasted silently down the mountain at 12 miles per hour.

The train pulled thousands into a new kind of pilgrimage: the redwoods of Muir Woods. In 1907, William and Elizabeth Kent gifted 295 acres of ancient forest to the federal government, asking President Theodore Roosevelt to make it a monument, and to name it after John Muir.

So… why exactly gift it to the feds? (going off the rails for a sec…)

Some argue the Kents might have done better to hand it to California, whose policies were already more preservation-minded.

At the time though, California had fewer strong legal tools or institutional structure to set aside land or enforce strict conservation. Enter the Antiquities Act of 1906: it gave the U.S. president the ability to designate national monuments (often swiftly) when areas of historical or scientific interest were endangered.

And the threat at the time? Well, that would be the North Coast Water Company, which held water rights in Redwood Canyon.

In 1907, the company moved to condemn roughly 47 acres of Kent’s land, aiming to build a reservoir that would flood part of the forest to supply water to Sausalito and nearby towns. The Kents had only recently purchased the canyon to protect its old-growth redwoods, and the idea that a private water company could use eminent domain to drown the redwoods infuriated them.

How imminent the reservoir truly was remains a little murky — some accounts suggest a fully engineered project, others that it was more speculative — but the threat was real enough. So, rather than fight a long court battle or wait on California’s slow-moving legislature, the Kents acted quickly: in December 1907 they donated the land, and on January 9th of the new year, President Theodore Roosevelt proclaimed Muir Woods a National Monument, cutting off the water company’s plan and securing the forest’s protection.

Okay, back on track

❝

Tamalpais is verily the Mountain of Magic.

“Crookedest railroad in the world” brochure. Source: Anne T. Kent California Room

As thrilling as the gravity cars were, the craze for the automobile was bigger, unstoppable, and soon to become the defining cultural shift of the 20th century. America was trailblazing a whole new kind of independence.

Freewheeling couples and groups of friends no longer had to buy a train ticket or follow a conductor’s schedule; they could drive themselves up Tam’s winding new roads, stop for picnics where they pleased, and show off their machines in the process.

Of course, all that freedom started with a ferry ticket back in San Francisco.

Before the bridges (the Golden Gate Bridge was still a few years off), cars had to roll aboard auto ferries at San Francisco’s Hyde Street Pier and cross the Bay to Sausalito. By the 1920s, vessels like the Eureka could haul over a hundred automobiles at a time, their lower decks packed bumper to bumper while passengers rode upstairs.

Once ashore, the adventure on Mt. Tam began: radiators boiling on steep grades, flat tires on gravel stretches, and drivers nervously grinding gears around hairpin turns.

And of course, there was a fire.

On July 2, 1929, sparks along the grade near the famous “double bow knot” ignited dry brush. Within hours, flames were racing down Blithedale Canyon toward Mill Valley. Fanned by 30-plus mph winds, the blaze consumed more than 2,500 acres, destroyed 117 homes, damaged trestles and ties, and came within two blocks of the Mill Valley depot.

For the railway, the damage was crippling. Rails warped in the heat, trestles and stations burned, wooden ties charred beyond use. Though repairs were attempted, the combination of fire loss, declining ticket sales, and the looming economic crash made restoration untenable.

By September 18, 1929, the Mt. Tamalpais Scenic Railway officially shut down. Weeks later the stock market crashed — proving 1929 was not a banner year for smooth rides.

On the upside

Well, we still have Mt. Tam, right?

Yes, some of the plaques and signage at national parks like Muir Woods have already been “updated” – but maybe that’s reason enough to dig a little deeper into the stories of this land.

It might mean pulling a book like John Hart’s Muir Woods: Redwood Refuge off the shelf, or wandering into the Anne T. Kent California Room at the Civic Center or the Marin History Museum in San Rafael where old photos, letters, and newspaper clippings bring the early days of Muir Woods and Mt. Tam to life.

Or you can simply step into the redwoods like the million people who visit each year (except it’s all right here, in our backyard!).

Breathe the fog-cooled air, take in those epic views, and let Mt. Tam deliver some of that Mountain Magic, right when you need it most.

🌲