Dearborn Station, Chicago, was where the stories of the three Super Chief deaths began and ended. They started with Dale L. Lawrence, a Private, slipping through a back door of the station crew’s ready room and moving to Track 7 and then alongside the Super, as admirers called the Santa Fe Railway’s famed streamliner.

 Lawrence followed closely a porter named Ralph to a vestibule door, then up into a still- empty sleeping car. Ralph had been reluctant to do business with this man, mostly because of his appearance. Not only was he sickly, his clothes were wrinkled and unclean. And he had no luggage. But the price was right, less than a full fare but better than nothing. Thirty- five dollars in cash was cheap for a ride from Chicago to Los Angeles on America’s most luxurious all- sleeper train. In the workaday language of the Super there were four categories of passengers—Privates, Strays, Regulars and Stars. A Private was a person who traveled as the result of a one- on- one deal with a sleeping car attendant. This longtime practice had begun during the travel conditions of World War Two. Cash money had a way of finding room on the most crowded of trains. 

Now, in this April of 1956 with fewer passengers and plenty of space available, the attraction was a fare cheaper than the official one. 

“This is yours,” said Ralph, pushing open the door to a small roomette. “It will not be made up as a bed in case I need it suddenly for a Stray—you know, a passenger who pays a conductor for an upgrade or wants to change bedrooms.&r...