Monthly Calendar Report for October, 2010

Hold back those doublestacks approaching Slope Interlocking. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

―The October 2010 entry of my own calendar is a long doublestack freight-train descending The Hill toward Slope Interlocking in Altoona (“al-TUNE-ah”), PA.
It’s on Track One. Track Two is out-of-service, and you can see why. It’s blocked by service-vehicles.
Slope Interlocking is out-of-site behind. It’s only one crossover and one turnout; a way to get eastbound trains from Track One to Track Two, or into the yard.
Three is westbound, and One eastbound over the Alleghenies. —Two is bidirectional.
So a westbound train exiting the yards in Altoona has to get over to Track Two or Three. (The yards at Altoona are east of the main.)
This occurs before Slope. —Slope used to have a tower.
I think Slope Interlocking is more-or-less where The Hill over the Alleghenies begins.
1.75 average percent westbound for 12 miles. That’s 1.75 feet up for every 100 feet forward.
The summit is at 2,194 feet. Altoona is at 1,178 feet.
The famous Horseshoe Curve is part of it — a trick by the Pennsylvania Railroad to get over the Allegheny mountains without steep grades.
The line looped around a valley to stretch out the railroad, and thereby avoid a steep grade.
1.75 average percent is somewhat difficult, but not too bad.
Difficult enough to often require helpers, but not impossible.
The railroad is still following the original alignment laid out in 1854, although now it’s Norfolk Southern instead of Pennsy.
Grading in the 1850s wasn’t what it is now.
Allegheny Crossing was an engineering triumph for 1854; Horseshoe Curve is now a National Historic Site.
The train has four locomotives up front; a lot of power.
Probably enough to get up the other side without assistance; although it’s not as steep.
Unless it was a long heavy train, which might need pushers.
Eastbound down the eastern slope is downgrade, the same 1.75 average percent as up.
A train could run away if its brakes failed.
It’s happened, trains careening out-of-control into Altoona.
The locomotives also have dynamic-braking, whereby their traction-motors are converted to generators that heat giant resisters atop the locomotive.
It’s braking action.
Quite often helper-sets stay on coming down, so they can add dynamic-braking.
The train pictured probably still has its dynamics activated. The train behind is still on the downgrade.
It’s pushing those locomotives, trying to run away.
The train-crews on Allegheny Crossing are very familiar with this.
They have the long train under control.
They are required to do a brake-test before descending The Hill; often to a full stop.
This picture was taken with Phil Faudi (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”).
Phil is the railfan extraordinaire from Altoona, PA, who supplies all-day train-chases for $125. —I did one two years ago, alone, and it blew my mind.
Phil has his rail-scanner along, tuned to 160.8, the Norfolk Southern operating channel, and knows the whereabouts of every train, as the engineers call out the signals, and various lineside defect-detectors fire off.
He knows each train by symbol, and knows all the back-roads, and how long it takes to get to various photo locations — and also what makes a successful photo — lighting, drama, etc.
I let Phil do the monitoring. I have a scanner myself, but leave it behind.
Phil knows every train on the scanner, where it is, and how long it will take to beat it to a prime photo location.
He could hear the train coming on his scanner, so we quickly drove to the overpass over Slope Interlocking.
So now can I get to this location without Phil?
I think so.
Of course, without Phil I’d probably have to wait a while for a train — perhaps a half-hour. (Trains are fairly frequent on this line.)
But with Phil it’s 5-10 minutes.
When he hears a train coming, we go to a nearby photo location.
We might see 20-30 trains over nine hours.


1966 SS Chevelle 396. (Photo by David Newhardt.)

―The October 2010 entry of my Motorbooks Musclecars calendar is one of the great ones, a 1966 Chevelle SS 396.
I wasn’t gonna make this picture number-two, but it keeps calling me.
Spare, with skinny redline tires on hubcapped steel rims, it’s the essence of musclecar — and the antithesis of sportscar.
That tiny checkered-flag medallion on the front fender, “SS” on the grill, and those intake power bulges on the hood, tell me it’s all motor.
Made for utterly creaming the competition in a straight line.
Later Big-Block Chevelles went to 454 hulking cubic-inches, but don’t look as good as this.
My neighbor down the street had one a few years ago, although his was medium metallic blue.
I could hear him coming; maximum induction noise.
When we lived in Rochester, cars like this would wail by at night, full-throttle completely unmuffled.
There was no way you could sleep.
Our bedroom fronted the street, and we had the windows open — no air-conditioning. (It was summer.)
Then you’d hear them racing on Interstate-490 far away.
Revved to the moon; 130-140-150 mph.
It was a pleasant sound, except ya couldn’t sleep.
Those days are long gone, of course.
Interstate-490 is still there, but often plugged.

Good old #612. (Photo by Don Wood©.)

—The October 2010 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar is one of the BEST pictures photographer Don Wood ever took.
It’s good old K4sa #612 crossing the main drag in Freehold, NJ.
It’s on the New York & Long Branch.
The New York & Long Branch was originally Central of New Jersey, but Pennsy was threatening to barge in and build a competing line.
So CNJ caved and gave Pennsy trackage rights.
Pennsy could operate electric out of New York City, and swap to alternative power where the wire ended.
In the early ‘50s that was steam locomotives; usually hand-me-downs from mainline service.
612 is one of the best K4s Pennsy ever had.
Unlike other K4s it had a front-end throttle modification, the rectangular box grafted atop the smokebox.
A front-end throttle was at the superheater header, not in the steam dome.
612 is one of the few K4s that had it.
Don Wood took many pictures of 612; it was used in NY&LB commute service.
And it could boom-and-zoom.
One of Wood’s most memorable photographs of 612 was a pan at 50-60 mph.
Wood is now dead.
He wandered all over Pennsy in the northeast photographing the last of Pennsy steam.
He was based in Elizabeth, NJ.
He was using a Press-Graphic; 4-by-5 inch black-and-white negatives.
At that time such cameras were state-of-the-art.
Slope Interlocking was taken with my Nikon digital camera.
Look at the price of gas in that picture; 24.9¢ per gallon, and that’s “Hi-Test.”
The only engines I use Hi-Test in are my lawn-mowers and my motorcycle.
Wood’s photographs were the basis of the first Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendars.
For years those calendars were just Wood.
Wood took some of the most dramatic steam-locomotive pictures ever taken.
Northern New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and even central New York.
Actually, it’s a fan-trip.
612 wrapped up Pennsy steam usage on the New York & Long Branch in November of 1957.
Look at that ’56 Chevy to the left.
This scene is a reprise of my first railfanning; Pennsy K4s crossing Kings Highway in Haddonfield, NJ, after leaving Haddonfield station.
A watchman, barely visible here, would block traffic.
The line was the Pennsylvania-Reading (“RED-ing,” not ‘READ-ing’) Seashore Lines” (PRSL), an amalgamation of Pennsylvania and Reading railroad-lines in southern Jersey to counter the fact the two railroads had too much parallel track. It was promulgated in 1933. It serviced mainly the Jersey seashore from Philadelphia, PA.
PRSL ran steam until about 1955.
PRSL also ran Reading steam, but it was ugly.
The engines I preferred were Pennsy.
What a thrill to see that red Pennsy keystone number-plate on the smokebox door charging toward me. I could see it from a distance.
Reading didn’t even have a number-plate, or if they did, they were blue and circular — not keystones.
Usually the headlight was centered in the smokebox door, where that keystone is. Pennsy had ‘em up top.
Pennsy steam-engines always looked best.
The last K4 I saw was in 1956; it was heading a horse race-track excursion, and was rusty.
I was 12.
It meant getting home late for supper; I feared a beating.
But I wasn’t missing what might be my last K4 in service, and it was.


1934 Ford three-window.

―The October 2010 entry of my Oxman Hot-Rod Calendar is a 1934 Ford; purest of the pure, and a great-looking hot-rod.
I’ve never really liked ’34 Ford hot-rods, but this one looks fabulous, mainly because it’s stock.
That is, stock appearing.
Full-fendered, and not chopped.
It’s also three-window, the best-looking of the coupes.
Often ’34 Ford hot-rods are stripped of their fenders, and/or massively lowered, with their tops chopped.
Stripped of its fenders the car looks weird, although that’s a matter of taste.
There are those who prefer the ’34 Ford hot-rod, but not me.
I prefer the ’32 Ford, or even the Model A with a ’32 Ford grill.

Stock ’32 Ford roadster (unrestored).

The ’32 Ford is one of the best-looking cars of all time, and that’s despite its classic styling.
For that we can thank Edsel Ford, Old Henry’s only son.
Edsel managed to get good styling on Fords, despite Old Henry’s resistance.
By 1934 Old Henry was ballistic.
Basic transportation, the Model T Ford, was being left behind.
The automobile industry was selling styling.
Car-styling changed every year; the Model T didn’t do that. (There were changes over the years, but not an annual model-change.)

‘49 shoebox.

In 1949 grandson Henry Ford II pushed through the Shoebox. Ford probably would have tanked without it.
Fords were still using buggy-springs; the ’49 Ford was the first without.
Old Henry was convinced buggy-springs were all a car needed.
He would have bankrupted Ford if they had stayed with them.
This car is massively modified.
The engine is a 350 Chevy Small-Block, and the rear suspension is Corvette independent.
One wonders how successful such extreme modifications could be — the frame has to significantly altered.
Car development is always incremental; engineers make small changes to basic concepts to make the car more stable and predictable.
E.g. different tire-pressures front and rear on the Corvair.
Changing the rear suspension to IRS is inviting disaster.
It’s an appealing concept, but rarely works.
My friend Art Dana (“DAY-nuh”), recently deceased, had a Model A hot-rod with a ’56 Pontiac V8.
It was awesome; he had done things right.
But its front-suspension was maxxed out; it was carrying maybe 200 pounds more than stock.
He had to part with it due to -a) wiring problems, and -b) his Parkinson’s Disease.

My remaining calendars go downhill from here. Link (next) is okay, but the last two are only interesting.


Virginia Creeper. (Photo by O. Winston Link.)

―The October 2010 entry of my O. Winston Link "Steam and Steel" calendar is good old Train 201, the “Virginia Creeper” (so-called), leaving Green Cove station headed for White Top.
You can see the fireman has the old teakettle cooking, as indicated by that white plume of steam atop the engine.
Its boiler is popping off.
There’s a stiff grade ahead, 3 percent. That’s three feet up for every 100 feet forward; not impossible but stiffer than most mainline railroads.
Beyond 4 percent is just about impossible for a side-rod steam locomotive; that is, the driving-wheels are turned by side-rods.
Such an arrangement would slip with its piston-thrusts. It’s just the drivers adhering to the steel railheads.

Photo by O. Winston Link.

Last month’s Link picture.

The Abingdon branch went to Elkland, NC, and Link photographed old Train 201 many times.
Last month was Train 201 (pictured at left), so this month is the third time in this calendar.
(Train 201 was also the April entry — below.)
Last year Train 201 was in the “Steam and Steel” calendar at least once (that picture’s gone).
I have a hunch the railroad no longer exists.
Green Cove still does — it shows in my Google satellite-views.
The railroad might, or at least its right-of-way still exists; twisting back on itself as it climbs the hills.

Photo by O. Winston Link.

April’s Link picture.

By 1956, when this month’s picture was taken, other railroads had dieselized, and this train would have been pulled by an Alco RS-3 or Geep.
But Norfolk & Western stayed with steam locomotion.
By 1956 it was the only mainline railroad using steam locomotion.
This was partly because its traffic-base, the Pocahontas coal region, was the fuel for steam locomotion.
But diesels were much better for railroads — they generated great pulling-power at slow speeds.
A steam-locomotive had to get rolling to work well.
Also, vast facilities and appurtenances for running and maintaining steam-locomotives could be abandoned; e.g. water-towers and coaling stations.
Although the giant coaling-tower in Roanoke, VA still stands; as do many others.
They were concrete, and too hard to take down.
Eventually even Norfolk & Western had to dieselize.
I think Train 201 was mixed; meaning both passengers and freight.
Last month I postulated that Link was probably in the caboose.
More likely he was on one of the passenger-cars on the tail-end of the train.

Ex-N&W 475 on the Strasburg.

The train would stop at factory sidings and switch freightcars.
Passengers had to wait.
Apparently “The Virginia Creeper” has become a venerable institution.
The locomotive is #382, an M-class 4-8-0.
It’s been reprised on Strasburg Railroad with their ex-N&W #475, also a 4-8-0.
They recreated “the Creeper,” or at least tried.
But -a) it’s not the Abingdon branch, it’s Strasburg; and -b) the passenger-cars are Strasburg.
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7WqKsKDpiw)


Curtiss Helldiver. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)

—The October 2010 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is a Curtiss Helldiver.
A number of different airplanes were built for use off Navy aircraft-carrier decks.
Three were built by Grumman Aviation (actually four; one was twin-engine), the Wildcat, the Hellcat, and finally the Bearcat, although the Bearcat is sort of postwar.
I’ve seen a Bearcat fly. It’s comparable to a Mustang.
One is the fabulous Chance-Vought Corsair.
Grumman also built a dive-bomber, the Avenger.
All took advantage of the incredible horsepower being developed by air-cooled radial engines.
The P51 Mustang, incredible as it was, used a water-cooled engine.
Water cooling could be incapacitated.
The Navy was partial to air-cooling, and poured mind-boggling development into air-cooled radial engines, what had previously been a lowly application.
The Helldiver is a bigger design, not a fighter, and built by Curtiss not Grumman.
It carried a crew of two, and was a divebomber.
It supplemented the Douglas Dauntless, also a divebomber, but an older and slower design.
The bombay doors on this airplane are open; it could deliver a torpedo.
The idea was to divebomb enemy ships.
Such airplanes could fly off aircraft-carrier decks and attack enemy ships.
The canopy has been retracted revealing a rear-facing machine-gunner.
—With which to fight off enemy airplanes trying to shoot the Helldiver out of the sky.
The Helldiver is powered by a 1,900 horsepower Wright R-2600 engine; 14 cylinders in two rows of seven.
That’s a big powerful engine —2,603 cubic-inches displacement.
It’s turning a four-bladed propeller.
The Helldiver was a big heavy airplane, unwieldy at slow speed, but very successful at its task. More successful than other divebombers.


Looking into the throat of Pennsy Terminal in New York City; October 4, 1957. (Photo by Bill Janssen.)

—The October 2010 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is looking into the throat of Pennsy Terminal in New York City on October 4, 1957.
Pennsy’s Tubes under the Hudson River empty into this deep open trench, which is also the throat of Pennsy’s New York City terminal.
The tracks were below ground, underneath the station.
The old Pennsy terminal is gone; I think a new Madison Square Garden is in its place.
But it’s still the location of Penn Station, the New York City terminus of Amtrak’s Northeast Corridor — the old Pennsy line.
The tracks are still underneath.
A lot of interesting equipment is in this picture.
Visible are Pennsy Owl-Face MP-54 commuter cars. They’re Tuscan red (“Tuss-kin”).
The car in front appears to be an unpowered trailer.
Unpowered trailers were often paired with powered cars.
The car behind it is powered; it has a pantograph (“pant-uh-GRAFF”).
Behind that is a GG1 (“Gee-Gee-One”) electric locomotive.
It’s probably taking an express passenger train toward the Tubes.
It’s in the original cat-whisker paint scheme, the five gold pinstripes.
It’s the scheme inspired by Raymond Loewy.

Photo by BobbaLew.

GG1 #4896 at the shops in Wilmington, DE.

During the ‘60s the GG1s were changed to a single-stripe scheme (pictured at left).
It was easier to maintain.
In my humble opinion the GG1 is the greatest railroad locomotive of all time.
I saw many, and every time I did they were doing 80-100 mph.
A single Gee could deliver over 9,000 horsepower to the rails for a short time, e.g. accelerating a train from a station-stop.
They were so great the engine-crews loved ‘em.
And they lasted over 50 years.
A typical steam-locomotive might last 30 years, a diesel maybe 20.
Also visible are Long Island commuter cars; they’re gray.
Most interesting is that New Haven EP-3 in the foreground.
It was the locomotive Pennsy tested in 1933, leading to the GG1.
It’s the same wheel arrangement: 4-6-6-4.
Pennsy thought its own design, the R1 — 4-8-4 — would be better, but the EP-3 tracked better and was more stable.
Thus the GG1, the greatest railroad locomotive of all time.
Also of interest is those Railway Express boxcars in the immediate foreground.
What’s visible is a reefer.
These cars were equipped with passenger-car trucks, so they could boom-and-zoom in passenger consists.
Railway Express no longer exists. It went defunct in 1975.
This is not a very good picture.

Photo by Matt Van Hattem.

Trains approach NY terminal on July 4, 1997.

The best view of this location is down in the trench, where all the contorted track and overhead catenary (“kat-en-AIR-eee”) is visible — trolley-wire suspended on a catenary of cables.