Monthly Calendar Report for July, 2008
An image for the ages. (Photo by Jim Shaughnessy©.)
The July 2008 entry in my Audio-Visual Designs black & white All-Pennsy calendar, the best one, is another classic Jim Shaughnessy shot, Pennsy Decapod number 4230 starting out of Max siding on the Elmira branch at Ralston, Pa., in 1957.
The Dek is the quintessential Pennsy steam-engine, 2-10-0; and is performing a quintessential Pennsy task, lugging a heavy train in a deep Pennsylvania valley.
It’s belching a heavy column of smoke and cinders high into the sky, an act which would inflame Granny, if her laundry was hanging outside at trackside. (Who hangs their laundry out any more? Ya blow-dry it with burning natural-gas in a dryer.)
Nowadays such smoke would be frowned upon — in fact, even back then it was frowned upon.
Engine crews were admonished to run their smokestacks clean, and stack police were around to blow crews in.
Yet nowadays the crews on restored excursion steam-locomotives are advised to make a lot of smoke, especially for photo-runbys.
The railfan photographers want the same towering pillar of smoke that’s in this picture.
The fireman pours so much coal (or fuel-oil) into the engine’s firebox, the fire burns so rich it creates an oily black smudge on the sky.
The Greenies would have a fit. GLOBAL-WARMING ALERT! POLLUTION ALERT!
And conditions have to be just right — they were right for this picture.
The air has to be still enough to not dissipate the smoke.
How many times have I seen smoky photo runbys ruined by smoke fanning over the countryside, dissipated by the wind.
Yet here we are deep in a mountainous Pennsylvania creek-valley, surrounded by towering hills, and Shaughnessy is ready.
Thank you, Shaughnessy — an image for the ages.
My friend Charlie Gardiner, who I graduated with from Houghton College in 1966, has a vacation abode in Vermont, and once pointed out a proposed steam excursion railroad.
It was scotched due to environmental concerns. (Even cellphone towers aren’t allowed.)
Raw and basic. (Photo by Peter Vincent.)
The July 2008 entry of my Deuce 1932 Ford hot-rod calendar is a Pheaton, set up to race at Bonneville — and photographed there.
It’s originally a show-car, a full-fendered Pheaton hot-rod, but unfortunately it burned to the ground in 1984.
The burned-out remains sat for 20 years, until rescued by Matt Reynolds.
He installed a 350 Chevy Small-Block, and reconfigured it to race.
It’s a classic hot-rod, raw and basic, and set up to go fast; not impress onlookers.
The original hot-rods usually rated flat-black primer. Glittering trinkets and baubles and fancy paint don’t make a car any faster.
Neither does the kerreck body, which to me would be a fenderless high-boy roadster or a three-window coupe with a chopped top.
I remember seeing a customized ‘50 Merc lead-sled in a northern Delaware fast-food joint: chopped, channeled, sectioned, lowered; the whole kabosh.
It had been done up in flat-black primer, yet looked great.
My old friend Art Dana, ex of the bus-company, built up a Model-A hot-rod with a ‘56 Pontiac V8.
“I hope ya brushed it with flat-black primer,” I said.
“Sure did, Hughsey,” Art said. “There’s no other way.”
The most beautiful railroad diesel-locomotive of all time. (Photo by John Dziobko.)
The July 2008 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is the most beautiful railroad diesel-locomotive of all time, the Alco PA — although the Baldwin Sharknoses styled by Raymond Loewy could give them a run for their money.
Unfortunately, the Alco PA wasn’t very reliable, although not as bad as the Baldwins.
But they weren’t as good as the EMD E-units.
The PA was rated at 2,000 horsepower, but out of only one engine, a turbocharged V16 Alco 244.
It was one of the earliest applications of turbocharging to a railroad diesel-locomotive.
The turbo would fail, crippling the locomotive, and/or sending pillars of black exhaust into the sky.
Fuel-metering was configured for turbo operation. Without it the engine ran incredibly rich.
A PA could emit a pillar of black exhaust even when the Turbo was working.
The Turbo wouldn’t spool up quickly enough, and the engine ran rich until it did.
The EMD E-unit was getting comparable horsepower out of two unturbocharged V12 diesel-engines.
Unfortunately they weren’t as gorgeous as the PA, but they were more reliable.
The 244 engine was rushed to market, and was so failure-prone it dragged down Alco sales. The later 251 engine was much better, but the damage had been done.
The PA pictured is in commuter service on the New York & Long Branch, a joint Pennsy and Central of New Jersey operation in north Jersey.
It was the final stomping-ground for many Pennsy engines, like the PAs, the Sharknoses, and the K4 Pacific steam-locomotive.
The unelectrified engines would run north to South Amboy, where they were swapped out for electric engines for final running to New York City.
The Stooges play golf: “nyuk-nyuk-nyuk-nyuk......”
The July 2008 entry of my Three-Stooges calendar is an all-time classic.
A movie-frame outtake, regrettably, but from one of the best Stooges skits of all time: the golf-game.
I think I have that in my Three Stooges video DVD.
In this frame they are analyzing a golf-hole; Larry looking suitably analytical, Curly looking wary, and Moe, as always, mugging insanely for the camera.
Moe looks completely freaked out, but it’s an act.
Without this, it wouldn’t be the Stooges.
“Here, see this?” POINK! “Why I oughta........”
But it ain’t Gleason and Carney in the Honeymooners.
Gleason (Ralph Kramden) and Carney (Norton) did the best golf skit.
“Okay Norton; lemme show ya how to play golf,” Ralph bellows.
“First ya gotta address the ball.”
Carney looks quizzically down at the ball, and says “hello, ball.”
Norfolk Southern double-stack through Oak Harbor, Ohio. (Photo by John Stanovich.)
The July 2008 entry of my Norfolk Southern Employees calendar is what I see all the time on Norfolk Southern Railway any more: two black Norfolk Southern locomotives leading a colorful double-stack freight-train, this time through Oak Harbor, Ohio.
What’s interesting to me is the lead locomotive; a brand-new SD70M-2 from EMD (GM’s ElectroMotive Division), one of a recent order of 130.
It ain’t the usual General-Electric Dash-9. (NS rates ‘em at 4,000 horsepower, so Dash-9 40C, instead of the usual Dash-9 44C (4,400 horsepower); “C” being a six-axle truck.
The SD70M-2 is the new EMD four-stroke prime-mover; previous EMDs were two-stroke.
The two-stroke was too sloppy to meet emission requirements.
During a recent trip to Horseshoe Curve I saw quite a few SD70M-2s, usually leading GEs; but sometimes the complete lashup.
The moving finger having writ, moves on.......
So much for the Dash-9s; although many were still in evidence.
Stanovich is a locomotive engineer based in Chicago.
He’s probably proud of these things. I can understand. I used to take pictures of buses when I drove bus at Transit. I really loved driving our first “artics,” and thought our GM “RTS” buses were gorgeous.
The calendar picture appeared to be widened some; the nose of the SD70M-2 was too wide.
An old Photoshop trick; stretch the picture to fit the calendar image size.
This pik was narrowed back to make the SD70M-2 look right. It looks more kerreck, but ain’t the original camera image.
The calendar pik didn’t appear to be either — it looked like the stretched HD-TV I see at the Canandaigua YMCA.
Lockheed A-28 “Hudson.” (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)
The July 2008 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is an airplane I never thought much of, the Lockheed A-28 “Hudson.”
As I recall, the Hudson was a military version of the Lockheed Model 14 Super Electra commercial airliner; used primarily by the Royal Air Force as bombers and maritime observation aircraft.
Two machine-guns were mounted in the nose of one version, so the airplane could be used as an attacker.
It was designed and constructed under Lend-Lease in the late ‘30s, a response to a British request in its effort against the Nazis.
The Hudson ain’t the North-American B25, which ended up being a primal force in the American war-effort.
The B-25 was a hot-rod, and the Hudson a turkey.
1981 C3 Corvette. (Photo by Richard Prince.)
The July 2008 entry of my Corvette calendar is a 1981 Corvette, perhaps the worst of all time.
The early ‘80s were a sad time for Corvette — the only engine available for Corvette was a 190 horsepower 350 cubic-inch Small-Block.
For heaven sake! In 1957 a Small-Block was available at one horsepower per cubic-inch: 283 horsepower for 283 cubes.
Zora Arkus Duntov was gone (retired in 1975), and the C3 had been around since 1968.
General Motors was even considering shortening a Camaro (a la the original American Motors two-seater AMX), and rebadging it as a “Corvette.”
Thankfully, this didn’t happen. A new C4 Corvette debuted in the 1984 model-year, and thereby saved the marque. The new C4 resolved many of the things that were wrong with the C3, and had a completely reengineered chassis.
That chassis is still being used in the C6, but has been improved.
The C4 saw reinstitution of performance as a goal with the Small-Block, as a 230-horsepower port fuel-injected version was installed in most Corvettes in the 1985 model-year. This is fuel-injection for each individual cylinder; much better that the twin crossfire injected Small-Blocks in previous Corvettes — which had two separate throttle-bodies for each cylinder-bank. Crossfire was better than carburetors (too sloppy), but not as good as individual port injection. (The 1957 fuel-injection was individual port injection.)
Even more powerful Small-Blocks were eventually installed.
During 1981 Corvette production transitioned from St. Louis to Bowling Green, Kentucky.
A manager at Transit had a C3, but his was 1976 — and he kept having problems with it.
It was a 350 Small-Block with a four-speed, and was “Hugger-Orange;” a beautiful car.
He finally had to sell it — the frame had rusted out. The body was fiberglass, but the frame was steel.
I shed a tear.
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