How two of America's greatest authors took on the Central Railroad monopoly The notorious Central Pacific Railroad riveted the attention of two great American writers: Ambrose Bierce and Frank Norris. In The Great American Railroad War, Dennis Drabelle tells a classic story of corporate greed vs. the power of the pen. The Central Pacific Railroad accepted US Government loans; but, when the loans fell due, the last surviving founder of the railroad avoided repayment. Bierce, at the behest of his boss William Randolph Hearst, swung into action writing over sixty stinging articles that became a signal achievement in American journalism. Later, Norris focused the first volume of his trilogy, The Octopus, on the freight cars of a thinly disguised version of the Central Pacific. The Great American Railroad War is a lively chapter of US history pitting two of America's greatest writers against one of America's most powerful corporations. "Readers with interests in western American history or the origins of today’s political quagmires will find much to relish. " - Publishers Weekly

An account of California journalist and wit Ambrose Bierce and his struggle with the railroad octopus controlled by the Big Four (Collis P. Huntington, Leland Stanford, Charles Crocker, and Mark Hopkins). This is the first book to look at Bierce's early muckraking campaign in depth through Bierce's acid journalism and the railroad's private and public reactions. After a brief literature review and biography of Bierce, one of America's greatest wits, journalists, and short-story writers, the study turns to his thirty-year battle with the Central Pacific Railroad, which controlled much of California's economy and politics, often through bribery of politicians and newspaper editors and publishers. Lindley looks at the initial funding of the railroad through the U.S. government, the development of railroads as symbols of hope and progress, and the eventual corruption of that optimistic outlook by railroad owners and politicians. Bierce attacked the railroads in his columns during his tenure at three San Francisco periodicals, the Argonaut, the Wasp, and the Examiner. His efforts culminated in a trip to Washington, D.C., in 1896 to cover the funding bill debate in Congress, during which railroad officials attempted to avoid repaying millions of dollars in government loans. Bierce did not consider himself a muckraker. He derided the generation of Progressive journalists who followed him a decade after he ended his campaign against the railroad. Yet, Bierce's journalism was a precursor of what is popularly known as the muckraking period, 1902-1914.

Classic Books Library presents this brand new edition of the short story, “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge” (1890) by Ambrose Bierce. In this text Bierce creatively uses both structure and content to explore the concept of time, from present to past, and reflecting its transitional and illusive qualities. The story is one of Bierce’s most popular and acclaimed works, alongside “The Devil’s Dictionary” (1911). Bierce (1842-c. 1914) was an American writer, journalist and Civil War veteran associated with the realism literary movement. His writing is noted for its cynical, brooding tones and structural precision.

A Study Guide to Ambrose Bierce's An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge, excerpted from Gale's acclaimed Short Stories for Students series. This concise study guide includes plot summary; character analysis; author biography; study questions; historical context; suggestions for further reading; and much more. For any literature project, trust Short Stories for Students for all of your research needs.

DigiCat Publishing presents to you this special edition of "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge" by Ambrose Bierce. DigiCat Publishing considers every written word to be a legacy of humankind. Every DigiCat book has been carefully reproduced for republishing in a new modern format. The books are available in print, as well as ebooks. DigiCat hopes you will treat this work with the acknowledgment and passion it deserves as a classic of world literature.

This is an annotated version of the book1. contains an updated biography of the author at the end of the book for a better understanding of the text.2. This book has been checked and corrected for spelling errorsA man stood upon a railroad bridge in northern Alabama, looking downinto the swift water twenty feet below. The man's hands were behindhis back, the wrists bound with a cord. A rope closely encircled hisneck. It was attached to a stout cross-timber above his head and theslack fell to the level of his knees. Some loose boards laid upon theties supporting the rails of the railway supplied a footing for himand his executioners--two private soldiers of the Federal army,directed by a sergeant who in civil life may have been a deputysheriff. At a short remove upon the same temporary platform was anofficer in the uniform of his rank, armed. He was a captain. Asentinel at each end of the bridge stood with his rifle in theposition known as "support," that is to say, vertical in front of theleft shoulder, the hammer resting on the forearm thrown straightacross the chest--a formal and unnatural position, enforcing an erectcarriage of the body. It did not appear to be the duty of these twomen to know what was occurring at the center of the bridge; theymerely blockaded the two ends of the foot planking that traversed it.Beyond one of the sentinels nobody was in sight; the railroad ranstraight away into a forest for a hundred yards, then, curving, waslost to view. Doubtless there was an outpost farther along. Theother bank of the stream was open ground--a gentle slope topped witha stockade of vertical tree trunks, loopholed for rifles, with asingle embrasure through which protruded the muzzle of a brass cannoncommanding the bridge. Midway up the slope between the bridge andfort were the spectators--a single company of infantry in line, at"parade rest," the butts of their rifles on the ground, the barrelsinclining slightly backward against the right shoulder, the handscrossed upon the stock. A lieutenant stood at the right of the line,the point of his sword upon the ground, his left hand resting upon hisright. Excepting the group of four at the center of the bridge, not aman moved. The company faced the bridge, staring stonily, motionless.The sentinels, facing the banks of the stream, might have been statuesto adorn the bridge. The captain stood with folded arms, silent,observing the work of his subordinates, but making no sign. Death is adignitary who when he comes announced is to be received with formalmanifestations of respect, even by those most familiar with him. Inthe code of military etiquette silence and fixity are forms ofdeference.The man who was engaged in being hanged was apparently aboutthirty-five years of age. He was a civilian, if one might judge fromhis habit, which was that of a planter. His features were good--astraight nose, firm mouth, broad forehead, from which his long, darkhair was combed straight back, falling behind his ears to the collarof his well fitting frock coat. He wore a moustache and pointedbeard, but no whiskers; his eyes were large and dark gray, and had akindly expression which one would hardly have expected in one whoseneck was in the hemp. Evidently this was no vulgar assassin. Theliberal military code makes provision for hanging many kinds ofpersons, and gentlemen are not excluded.The preparations being complete, the two private soldiers steppedaside and each drew away the plank upon which he had been standing.The sergeant turned to the captain, saluted and placed himselfimmediately behind that officer, who in turn moved apart one pace.These movements left the condemned man and the sergeant standing onthe two ends of the same plank, which spanned three of the cross-tiesof the bridge.

The Morton Street Slasher has been leaving the corpses of his victims around San Francisco's Union Square. On the women's naked bodies are spade playing cards. The city's infamous newspaperman, Ambrose Bierce, blames the rash of murders on his old enemy, the Southern Pacific Railroad. A naive reporter at Bierce's Hornet pursues the case, uncovering conspiracy at every turn. In a fast-paced novel that is a combination of murder mystery, historical fiction, and quirky biography, Oakley Hall draws the reader into 1880s San Francisco and the changing world that was California in the latter part of the nineteenth century. Local and state politics, the exploitation of the Chinese, the power of the mining and railroad barons, and San Francisco's colorful history provide a backdrop for this irresistible thriller. The novel's chapters are introduced by appropriate excerpts from Bierce's The Devil's Dictionary and narrated by the young reporter Tom Redmond. Redmond is interested in the murders because of his attraction to a woman threatened by the Slasher, and Bierce encourages him because of his personal vendetta against the Big Four of the Railroad. Bierce's misogyny is an influence as well, which Hall uses to advantage in portraying the enigmatic journalist. Hall knows his territory and his characters well. The sights and smells of late-nineteenth-century California are cleverly evoked, and the story's key players are refreshingly authentic. Bierce brandishes his famed cynicism with all the aplomb of the sharp-eyed, sharp-witted newspaperman he was. Cameo appearances by such California worthies as Ina Coolbrith and Joaquin Miller add to the novel's historical richness. Intelligent, gripping, and often quite funny, Ambrose Bierce and the Queen of Spades will satisfy any reader who craves adventure, mystery, romance, and fine writing.

Peyton Farquhar, a plantation owner in his mid-thirties, is being prepared for execution by hanging from an Alabama railroad bridge during the American Civil War. Six military men and a company of infantrymen are present, guarding the bridge and carrying out the sentence. Farquhar thinks of his wife and children and is then distracted by a noise that, to him, sounds like an unbearably loud clanging; it is actually the ticking of his watch. He considers the possibility of jumping off the bridge and swimming to safety if he can free his tied hands, but the soldiers drop him from the bridge before he can act on the idea.In a flashback, Farquhar and his wife are relaxing at home one evening when a soldier rides up to the gate. Farquhar, a supporter of the Confederacy, learns from him that Union troops have seized the Owl Creek railroad bridge and repaired it. The soldier suggests that Farquhar might be able to burn the bridge down if he can slip past its guards. He then leaves, but doubles back after nightfall to return north the way he came. The soldier is actually a disguised Union scout who has lured Farquhar into a trap, as any civilian caught interfering with the railroads will be hanged.The story returns to the present, and the rope around Farquhar's neck breaks when he falls from the bridge into the creek. He frees his hands, pulls the noose away, and surfaces to begin his escape. His senses now greatly sharpened, he dives and swims downstream to avoid rifle and cannon fire. Once he is out of range, he leaves the creek to begin the journey to his home, 30 miles away. Farquhar walks all day long through a seemingly endless forest, and that night he begins to hallucinate, seeing strange constellations and hearing whispered voices in an unknown language. He travels on, urged by the thought of his wife and children despite the pains caused by his ordeal. The next morning, after having apparently fallen asleep while walking, he finds himself at the gate to his plantation. He rushes to embrace his wife, but before he can do so, he feels a heavy blow upon the back of his neck; there is a loud noise and a flash of white, and everything goes black.It is revealed that Farquhar never escaped at all; he imagined the entire third part of the story during the time between falling through the bridge and the noose breaking his neck.

A man stood upon a railroad bridge in northern Alabama, looking down into the swift water twenty feet below. The man's hands were behind his back, the wrists bound with a cord. A rope closely encircled his neck. It was attached to a stout cross-timber above his head and the slack fell to the level of his knees. Some loose boards laid upon the ties supporting the rails of the railway supplied a footing for him and his executioners—two private soldiers of the Federal army, directed by a sergeant who in civil life may have been a deputy sheriff. At a short remove upon the same temporary platform was an officer in the uniform of his rank, armed. He was a captain. A sentinel at each end of the bridge stood with his rifle in the position known as "support," that is to say, vertical in front of the left shoulder, the hammer resting on the forearm thrown straight across the chest—a formal and unnatural position, enforcing an erect carriage of the body. It did not appear to be the duty of these two men to know what was occurring at the center of the bridge; they merely blockaded the two ends of the foot planking that traversed it.

Ambrose Bierce - American Writers 37 was first published in 1964. Minnesota Archive Editions uses digital technology to make long-unavailable books once again accessible, and are published unaltered from the original University of Minnesota Press editions.