Before there was Air Force One, there was "The United States", a luxury railcar built in the waning days of the Civil War. But its first and only official use came after the death of the president for whom it was built: Abraham Lincoln actually never even set eyes on the train. Instead, it became best known as the vehicle that took Lincoln’s coffin from Washington to Springfield, Illinois.
The U.S. Military Railroad, a sort of predecessor of the U.S. Army Transportation Corps, began constructing The "United States" in 1863, sensing the coming end of the war. The department predicted, correctly, that the president would need a vehicle (railcar) to travel around the country after his presidency returned to some semblance of normalcy. “Lincoln was aware of the construction but really shelled the idea anytime it came up,” says Shannon Brown, media director for the modern-day Lincoln Funeral Train. “He felt that there was no reason to be spending money on something like that.” Lincoln kept putting off seeing the train, even after it was finished, in 1865.
Eventually, Lincoln was worn down enough to make an appointment to see the train—on April 15th, 1865. “He never used it while he was alive,” says Brown.
The "United States", Lincoln’s funeral train car. Photo: Library of Congress/Wikimedia Commons.
After his death, Lincoln’s body went on a grand tour. The "United States" car was used officially for the first and only time to transport Lincoln’s coffin through over 150 communities between the capital and Lincoln’s hometown, present at 12 separate funerals in major cities on the way. Reporters boarded for individual legs between stops, waxing poetic for the magazines and newspapers of the time about the luxurious, presidential train Lincoln would never see.
The funeral train departed Washington, D.C., on April 21, 1865, and arrived in Springfield, Illinois, on May 3, 1865, covering approximately 1,654 miles over 12 days.
The route was chosen for several key reasons:
Symbolic Retracing: It mirrored Lincoln’s 1861 inaugural route, symbolizing a full-circle journey from hopeful leader to national martyr.
Public Mourning: Secretary of War Edwin Stanton insisted on a longer route to allow millions of Americans to pay their respects. Over 7 million people witnessed the train, and 1.5 million viewed Lincoln’s body.
Political Unity: The route passed through major Union cities to reinforce national unity after the Civil War. Stops in Confederate-sympathetic cities like Cincinnati were avoided.
Mary Todd Lincoln’s Wishes: She requested that their son Willie, who had died in 1862, be reinterred alongside Lincoln in Springfield. She also insisted on the burial at Oak Ridge Cemetery, not downtown Springfield, threatening to move the burial to Chicago if her wishes weren’t honored.
A Nation in Mourning
The train, dubbed “The Lincoln Special,” never exceeded 20 mph. It was draped in black bunting and accompanied by a military honor guard. At each stop, Lincoln’s coffin was removed for public viewing, often accompanied by elaborate processions, hymns, and floral tributes. Even in rural areas, people lit bonfires and knelt trackside in silent tribute.
It is not widely know that Lincoln's third son, "Willie", died on February 20, 1862, at the age of 11, while Abraham was President of the US. Willie's death was likely caused by typhoid fever, contracted from contaminated water in the White House. Willie was buried (temporarily) in Washington D.C.
Upon Lincoln's death, Willie was reinterned and travelled with his father to Springfield, IL on the Lincoln Funeral train. They were buried together at Oak Ridge cemetery.
Mary Todd Lincoln did not travel on Abraham Lincoln’s funeral train. She did not attend Abraham Lincoln's burial. After witnessing his assassination and being forcibly removed from his bedside by Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, Mary was overwhelmed with grief and mental anguish. Her emotional state was so fragile that she remained secluded and did not participate in the funeral procession or burial ceremonies.
Instead, she stayed in mourning at the White House and later moved to Chicago with her son Tad. Her absence from the burial was widely noted and criticized at the time, but today it's often understood as a reflection of her profound trauma and deteriorating mental health.
The route of the Lincoln Funeral Train back to Springfield, IL
The “Old Nashville.” The locomotive was one of the locomotives that pulled the funeral train of President Abraham Lincoln from Washington, D.C. to Springfield, Illinois. (Photo: Library of Congress/Wikimedia Commons.)
The history of the train car after that is spotty and inelegant. It was put up for sale before it even reached Springfield, and ended up in the hands of Union Pacific, which stripped out the opulent touches and transformed it into an ordinary passenger car. Eventually it ended up in a shed owned by a private citizen in Minnesota, where it was destroyed in a fire. But fire and near-total destruction isn’t enough to deter Lincoln-lovers.
In 1999, Dave Kloke, an engineer from Elgin, Illinois, decided to fulfill a lifelong dream and build himself a fully-functioning steam locomotive. “It took 10 years, strictly a hobby, just one of those bucket list things,” says Brown. It can be hard to track down the blueprints for that kind of train, but it turns out that the Parks Department had them for the Leviathan 63, the very model that The Old Nashville was based on. By the time he finished the project, he realized that the 150-year anniversary of Lincoln’s death was coming up and realized he could transform his train into a replica.
Reconstructing the train car has been difficult. There are plenty of extant photos of the original train on which to model the new reconstruction, but the inside of the car is a different story. “There are no known photographs of the interior, that’s sort of our holy grail,” says Brown.
Instead, his team relied on descriptions from bureaucrats and engineers and, especially, journalists, who at the time tended to be much more flowery and extravagant in their language. “We figure we’re probably about 90-95 percent historically accurate inside. Outside, probably closer to about 98 percent,” says Brown.
The interior reflected the timely conception of luxury; Brown used the word “garish” to describe it. Think leather-bound walls, huge heavy furniture, decorative rosettes sewn into the ceiling. It had a bedroom and, innovative for the time, a bathroom. The new model is as historically accurate as possible, meaning, yes, it has a working water closet on board.