Monthly Calendar Report for December, 2010
It’s hard to decide which of two calendars to make number-one.
―The December 2010 entry of my own calendar is the most fantastic shot I snagged during my first Faudi (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”) train-chase, a double off the overpass at Lilly, PA.
It was the only double we saw, or rather what I call a “double,” two locomotive front-ends.
My picture of the Executive Business Train (at left) was also a double, but not two front-ends.
—But the December 2010 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is also incredible.
The Lockheed P-38 is one of the best WWII propeller fighter-planes, and the calendar picture is fantastic.
So I think I will make it number-one.
My own calendar is also fantastic, but I can’t always make it number-one.
Lockheed P-38 Lightning. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)
—The P-38 is one of the most fabulous airplanes of WWII.
It was designed by Hall Hibbard and Kelly Johnson at Lockheed, a supreme hot-rod.
It was designed in 1937.
At that time the Army Air Corps (there was no Air Force yet) required fighter-planes to be single engine.
The P-38 got by by being called an “Interceptor” instead of a fighter-plane.
It could carry twice the armament of Air Corps allowances, and boomed-and-zoomed.
A prototype P-38 set a cross-country speed-record on February 11, 1939, Burbank, CA to New York City in seven hours, two minutes, but crash-landed due to carburetor-icing.
It only had the Allison V12 motor, but turbo-supercharged, and two at 1,425 horsepower each (I get a lot of different horsepower figures, from 1,000 up to over 1,700; but 1,425 from two different sources).
The airplane had counter-rotating propellers for offsetting the engine-torque imbalance a single propeller exerts.
The engines were also counter-rotating; the only thing that had to be changed was the sparkplug sequence.
The last airshow I attended, the Geneseo Airshow in the late ‘90s, had a P-38 in it; the only one I’ve ever seen, which is why I went.
It may have been the one pictured in this calendar; although that one has been restored, and looks great.
The Geneseo P-38 was awful, badly in need of restoration, but at least it was airworthy.
I watched it circle, and land, and taxi.
The pilot shut off the motors after parking.
“AHA!” I shouted. “Counter-rotating props. I remember that!”
I even had a model of one, my only WWII fighter-plane model.
It was yellow plastic and unpainted.
I never painted anything, for fear of making a mess.
All I did was apply the kit’s decals.
What little paint it would have needed was a few small markings, and anti-glare coatings.
I also have a video of a restored P-38 flying, and also a video of a P-51 Mustang.
To me the P-38 and the P-51 are the most gorgeous of the WWII propeller fighter-planes.
And Lockheed did well to get as much performance as they did out of that Allison V12.
The Mustang had a much stronger Packard-Merlin V12.
Pilots loved the P-38; fast, stable, responsive and maneuverable.
Although they were so fast they were encountering tail flutter at high speeds.
P-38s also suffered engine reliability problems.
No matter, they’re what I’d want.
Holy mackerel! (Photo by BobbaLew.)
―The December 2010 entry of my own calendar is one of the best train-photos I ever snagged; two head-ends approaching the overpass in Lilly, PA.
The photo was taken with Phil Faudi, the railfan extraordinaire from Altoona, PA, who supplied all-day train-chases for $125. —I did one two years ago, alone, and it blew my mind.
He called them “Adventure-Tours.”
Faudi had his rail-scanner along, tuned to 160.8, the Norfolk Southern operating channel, and knew the whereabouts of every train, as the engineers called out the signals, and various lineside defect-detectors fired off.
He knew each train by symbol, and knew all the back-roads, and how long it took to get to various photo locations — and also what made a successful photo — lighting, drama, etc.
I let Phil do the monitoring. I have a scanner myself, but I left it behind.
Phil knew every train on the scanner, where it was, and how long it took to beat it to a prime photo location.
My first time was a slow day, yet we got 20 trains. Next Tour we got 30 trains in one nine-hour day.
Phil is gonna give it up; fear of liability suits, and a really nice car he’s afraid he’d mess up.
We (Phil driving) were probably in South Fork or perhaps Portage, both towns west of Allegheny Summit, and both have branches past coal-tipples. The branch east out of South Fork is to a major coal-tipple. The line east out of Portage is the original Pennsy alignment, since bypassed, but still active as a branch. There is a coal-tipple along it too.
A coal-train had been loaded, and was now out on Track One of the old Pennsy main. It had to be moved toward Altoona, so up the West Slope, through the tunnels at Gallitzin (“guh-LIT-zin” — Allegheny Summit), and then back down toward Altoona.
It was on-the-move; Phil got it on his scanner — which tipple I don’t remember.
Phil also heard the engineer of an eastbound stacker calling out a signal on Track Two approaching South Fork.
Off we roared toward Lilly, which has a highway overpass over the old Pennsy main.
We drove out onto the overpass, stopped in the center, and “You get out, Bob. I’ll park down there and walk back up. We may get a double.”
Phil was walking back up as the coal-train approached, really hammering, far away on Track One.
“We’re gonna get a double, Bob,” he said. “Get ready!”
The coal-train got closer, moving slowly, and suddenly there was the stacker on Track Two.
BAM! Got it!
Two head-ends at once; first time ever.
Jeffries’ 1933 Ford two-door.
―The December 2010 entry of my Oxman Hot-Rod Calendar is a 1933 Ford two-door sedan, once the daily-driver of customizer Dean Jeffries.
Normally a two-door sedan would be of little interest to me, also a 1933 Ford.
The good Fords of that time are the ’32 and ’34; although the ’32 is more classic, a vertical grill-shell. —The ’34 was scowling at you (I prefer the ’32).
The two-door sedans are usually moribund. Much more desirable are the roadsters and coupes (especially three-window).
But this is a really great-looking hot-rod, chopped and channeled and sectioned.
“Chopping” is to hacksaw 3-4 inches out of the window-posts, and then weld everything back together, to lower the roof.
“Channeling” is to install 4-8 inch channels in the body-floor, so it can sit lower on the frame-rails.
“Sectioning” is to hacksaw horizontal 4-8 inch strips out of the body-sides, and then weld everything back together, to lower the overall body-height.
Getting everything to fit together after all these body-modifications was probably a struggle, but it was Jeffries.
That radiator-grill probably had to be sectioned too, along with the hood-sides.
Doing all this also scrunches the driver-post. The driver may have been driving from the back seat.
Jeffries was born in 1933 into southern California, and became part of the post-war so-Cal (southern California) custom-car scene.
He dropped out of high-school at age 17, and gravitated into car-painting and pinstriping, after serving in Germany in the Army.
He became a major influence in custom-car culture; his paint-jobs were rather elaborate.
Jeffries was one of the first to do flame-paint, which this car has.
Jeffries was also into fabrication — building cars. He also did metalwork and car customizing.
This car was his daily-driver, gorgeous, and a rolling advertisement for his skills.
First 51 south through Stanley, VA. (Photo by O. Winston Link.)
―The December 2010 entry of my O. Winston Link "Steam and Steel" calendar is a wonderful mood-shot, a Norfolk & Western freight-train crossing the main drag through Stanley, VA.
In utter darkness — I bet it’s after midnight.
The locomotive is a Y-class 2-8-8-2 articulated compound.
“Articulated” means the locomotive chassis is two segments. The rear driver-set is on the second segment, solid to the boiler — the locomotive boiler (and firebox) is mounted to the second segment.
The front driver-set is on the front chassis segment, which is hinged to the rear segment.
This allows the front segment to angle into turns, crossovers, and switches.
If the locomotive chassis wasn’t articulated, the long driver wheelbase would lateral off curved track.
If it’s not articulated, it’s a “duplex.” Pennsy had duplexes; its curvature in the midwest was open enough to accommodate duplexes. —Duplexes, like articulateds, have multiple drive-pistons; e.g. 4-4-4-4 (the Pennsy T1, pictured above).
“Compounding” is to use the spent steam from one set of drive-pistons (or single piston), to power other drive-pistons. In Norfolk & Western’s Y-class the spent steam from the rear drive-pistons powered the front drive-pistons.
Or sometimes the spent steam from one cylinder of a two-cylinder locomotive might power the opposite piston.
Or the spent steam from the outside drive-pistons might power a center piston (or pistons) of a three- (or four-) cylinder locomotive.
Such locomotives never became the norm; center cylinders were hard to work on.
The valve-motion was inside the driver-set.
With two outside cylinders — the norm — the valve-motion was easily accessible.
Compounding was all the rage about 1900.
But no one could really make it work.
Many railroads purchased compound articulateds, and then converted them to “simple;” the boiler powering all four drive-pistons directly.
Only Norfolk & Western made compounding work; they had numerous Y-class locomotives.
There are many details of this photograph I notice, because they are the world I was born into.
Although they may not be visible in a column-width blog photograph.
—1) Of particular interest is that telephone-booth to the right.
When was the last time you ever saw any such thing?
I have a cellphone myself.
Phone-booths are a dinosaur.
—2) Also of interest are the streetlights.
The bulbs are incandescent in flared metal housings.
Now they are self-lighting sodium-vapor, or something else.
A similar streetlight was in front of our neighbor’s house where I grew up.
It would light up the wall in my front bedroom.
I needed that light to keep away monsters.
That’s late ‘40s/early ‘50s.
—3) There is a different railroad-crossing sign behind that phone-booth — it’s not the X illustrated at left.
It indicates a two-track railroad-crossing.
I remember when stop-signs were yellow, not red. With reflective glass buttons; the background wasn’t reflective.
You had to know the stop-sign was there. They didn’t stand out; they weren’t instantly recognizable.
Railroad-crossing signs are now more-or-less standardized; like the X-sign pictured.
Although there are variations specific to conditions.
Often a second sign will be there indicating the number of tracks.
That’s incorporated in this Link sign.
But the unknowing might not know it’s a railroad-crossing sign.
—4) Also of interest are the Coke-signs part of restaurant signs.
Ya don’t see that much any more.
Apparently Coke at that time partially paid (or fully paid) for a restaurant sign if their moniker were incorporated.
The “Burns Restaurant” sign to the right has the Coke-moniker in it, as does the “Lunch” sign to the left.
Ya don’t see signs like that any more.
—5) And how about that black ’49/’50 Chevy parked on the right side of the street?
A lot of such cars were around in the world I was born into.
It might even be a “Fleetline” (fastback); although I think not.
General Motors built a lot of fastbacks in the ‘40s and early ‘50s.
My paternal grandfather’s ’42 Chevy was a Fleetline.
By the 1953 model-year the General had given up on fastbacks.
They looked kind of doughty anyway.
For 1953 the General’s postwar body was sightly upgraded.
The first car I ever drove was a ’53 Chevy, Powerglide automatic transmission with tinted glass, our first auto-tranny and turn-signals.
It was my parents’ car.
My second doctor had a fastback ’50 Chevy; it was lemon-pea green.
He took me to the hospital in it after I crashed my bicycle head-on into a maroon ’47 Ford.
The Ford was going very slowly; me probably faster on my bicycle.
The people inside were gawking at houses, and didn’t see me.
All I needed was a bandaid on my head. My bike was totaled.
This isn’t the world I was born into; the buildings are all late 19th century.
The world I was born into was more modern; a suburb.
Buildings from the ‘30s and ‘40s.
Look carefully and you’ll see a policeman walking the left sidewalk — in front of the luncheonette.
We’re slowly downhill from here. The last calendar is moribund.
1970 Cougar Eliminator. (Photo by David Newhardt.)
―The December 2010 entry of my Motorbooks Musclecars calendar is a really great picture, but only a Cougar.
It’s a great-looking car, but I never thought much of Cougars.
Apparently nor did others — not many sold. Eliminators are rare.
The Cougar was Mercury’s version of the Mustang; it uses much of the Mustang body — like the roof.
It was supposed to be a luxo version of the Mustang, and stooped to various styling tricks, e.g. disappearing quad headlights, and sequential rear turn-signals.
It kept getting bigger-and-bigger. It eventually began using the Ford Torino intermediate body; no longer the Mustang.
I drove a Torino once, a 302 Windsor V8. Very placid.
The Mustang kept growing too. By the 1971 model-year it was ridiculous; overblown and bloated.
The original Mustang was about the right size.
The best Eliminators had the 351 Cleveland V8. Also available were the much larger CobraJet V8s.
But the CobraJet motors were allegedly wimpy, or had that reputation.
A GM or Chrysler musclecar could often beat.
The 351 Cleveland was the best version of the Small-Block Ford V8; an even better design than the Small-Block Chevy.
It had more open valving, splayed valves, and was rated at 300 horsepower.
The Cleveland was the engine in the Ford Mach I Mustang — although the Mustang was faster because it was lighter.
The Ford Cobra-Jets were heavy — too much weight on the front-end.
Such an arrangement understeered — plowed.
In good tune an Eliminator could beat a GM or Chrysler musclecar in a straight line.
But they quickly fell out of tune; or so it seemed.
The really good Ford hot-rods had the lighter Cleveland V8, e.g. the “Boss 302” at 302 cubic inches (below).
They were better balanced.
That’s Wood back there. (Photo by Bud Rothaar©.)
—The December 2010 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar is only there because it has photographer Don Wood far back in it.
Wood has just taken the best photograph he ever shot (at left), two Pennsy Decapods (2-10-0) on the heavy Mt. Carmel ore-train.
The first Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendars, in the late ‘60s, were all Wood.
Wood lived in Elizabeth, NJ.
He roamed all over the northeast, documenting the last of Pennsy steam usage, which concluded in 1957.
Particularly NJ and central PA. East of Harrisburg Pennsy was electrified, but west of Harrisburg was not electrified, so steam was still in use.
Pennsy was one of the final holdouts for steam-locomotive usage.
Steam was also in use north of Harrisburg, particularly the Mt. Carmel branch, where Pennsy dragged heavy ore-trains up to interchange with Lehigh Valley Railroad.
It was on this branch where Wood snagged his greatest picture, and this Rothaar shot is the same train, although moribund compared to Wood.
Wood is now dead, as is Rothaar.
Both were probably using heavy Press-Graphic cameras with the 4-by-5 inch black and white negative, state-of-the-art at that time.
Ummmmmm........... (Photo by Henry Stange.)
—The December 2010 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is almost laughable.
It’s only justification is that it’s Pennsy from 1950.
And it’s color.
Pennsy was slow to switch to diesels.
That’s because the railroad moved so much coal, the fuel for steam-locomotives.
Pennsy’s first diesel was an Electromotive Division “SW” switcher with an eight-cylinder Winton 201A engine in 1937.
Her number was 3908, and she was re-engined in 1958 with a 567 V6, still 600 horsepower.
Pennsy bought an EMD NW2 in 1941, plus an EMD SW1 and nine Baldwin VO-660s in 1942.
By 1950, when this picture was taken, Pennsy was on its way to full dieselization.
Steam-locomotion was still in heavy use, often in road-service.
This picture reminds me of one of my photos (at left), a picture I took about 1959 at Edgemoor Yard north of Wilmington, DE, #8761, a Baldwin-Lima-Hamilton “yard-dog” built in 1952.
I lived in northern Delaware at that time.
It’s a 1,200 horsepower S-12.
I took it because it was all I could get.
Nothing was moving on the adjacent Pennsy NY-to-Washington main.
This calendar picture looks the same.
Like nothing but this brace of switchers showed up on the Pennsy line east of Logansport, IN.
Slogging switchers rarely rated photography. What we wanted was road-power boomin’-and-zoomin’.
In my youth that was a GG1 (“Jee-Jee-ONE;” I only say that because a friend was mispronouncing it “Jee-Jee-Eye”) on a “Red-Apple” passenger express — see below.
The first diesel locomotives I ever saw were Baldwin road-switchers on PRSL.
“PRSL” (Pennsylvania-Reading [‘RED-ing,’ not ‘READ-ing’] Seashore Lines) is an amalgamation of Pennsylvania and Reading railroad-lines in south 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.
PRSL is where I first became a railfan.
The Baldwin road-switchers are what replaced steam-locomotion on PRSL, which means I was lucky enough to witness steam in revenue service — that was late ‘40s and early ‘50s.
I notice Bowser is making an HO model of the exact Baldwin switcher I photographed, #8761.
Do I buy it or not? 80 bucks.
No model railroad to run it on, nor do I want one.
All they do is collect dust.
I certainly have been involved in enough model-railroad layouts.
I had model-trains of my own (Lionel), and helped a young neighbor friend build a giant HO model-railroad layout in 1959.
What I really want is an HO GG1, the greatest railroad-locomotive of all time.
I certainly saw enough of them — the real thing — and every time I did they were doing 80-100 mph!
8761 is coupled to a Dupont covered-hopper. The overpass to a giant Dupont plant is visible.
Northern Delaware is mainly Dupont.
I should do one final picture from MY OWN calendar.
(Photo by BobbaLew.)
It’s at Horseshoe Curve near Altoona (“al-TUNE-uh), PA, by far the BEST railfan spot I have ever been to.
Horseshoe Curve is now a national historic site. It was a trick by the Pennsylvania Railroad to get over the Allegheny mountains without steep grades — the railroad was looped around a valley to stretch out the climb. Horseshoe Curve was opened in 1854, and is still in use. I am a railfan, and have been since I was a child. —I’ve been there hundreds of times, since it’s only about five hours away.
EMD GP9 #7048 is visible at left in the cover-picture.
7048 replaced a Pennsy K4 Pacific, #1361 (below), 4-6-2, that was to be restored.
1361 had been in the Curve viewing-area since 1957, being built in Altoona.
1361 was severely deteriorated, but they got it running.
It didn’t even have a stack-cap, so its boiler-barrel was half-filled with snow-melt.
1361 crippled, so plans were afoot to fully restore it.
This included many new parts.
The locomotive was moved to Steamtown in Scranton, PA, for restoration in their shop.
But restoration was bog-slow.
1361 was in bad shape.
Even the smokebox had to be rebuilt.
Years passed, and eventually Railroaders’ Memorial Museum in Altoona, owners of 1361, gave up.
1361 was too far gone.
Getting it running would cost a fortune.
This cover-picture is an old picture, 2005.
7048 is rusted, but still has its red keystone icon.
7048 has since been repainted, but no keystone yet.
Horseshoe Curve is now operated by Norfolk Southern Railroad.
They operate the old cross-PA Pennsylvania Railroad line.
Pennsy merged with New York Central Railroad in 1968 as Penn-Central and that failed.
Penn-Central was merged into Conrail (Consolidated Railroad Corporation) by the government with other eastern bankrupt railroads, and eventually Conrail cut loose from government involvement.
It significantly streamlined and rebuilt, and became profitable and private.
Conrail was broken up in 1999. Most of the ex-Pennsy lines went to Norfolk Southern, and the ex New York Central lines went to CSX (railroad).
The passing train is downhill.
That’s an EMD SD70M on the point, followed by a GE Dash 9-40CW.
Horseshoe Curve is a fabulous place to watch trains, smack in the apex of a horseshoe-shaped curve.
It’s a giant amphitheater, and trains are so frequent you’ll probably see one if you wait 20 minutes.
And it’ll be right in your face.
The train-engineers blow the horn at waving train-watchers.
And climbing is wide-open; assaulting the heavens!
The Curve is also a hill; 1.8% up-and-down.
That’s 1.8 feet up for every 100 feet forward.
Not very steep, but steep enough to often require helper locomotives, both climbing and descending.
Descending is “dynamic-braking;” turning the locomotive traction-motors into generators. —They provide braking action at the locomotive.
If braking failed, the train might run away downhill into Altoona. It’s happened.
The Curve is deteriorating as a tourist-draw.
It used to be the parade of steam-locomotives kept down the brush with their ash.
With diesels the brush grows, and it’s volunteers that cut it back.
Everything is grown back up. It’s no longer possible to see the legs of the Curve.
And of course one leg is higher than the other — the southern calk.
The brush was cut back a few years ago, and trees felled.
But it’s growing back.
And Norfolk Southern isn’t Pennsy, which seemed proud of the Curve.
I’ve always been pleasantly surprised by this picture.
I’ve shot hundreds of photos at Horseshoe Curve, and this was the only one that worked.
My eye for a photograph isn’t that good, so what I do is just shoot. Shoot and see if it’s any good. Shoot with abandon.
It helps no one was in this picture; it’s a view I try to repeat.
7048 is in the picture, and that tree to the right frames the moving train.
My Oxman hot-rod calendar also has an additional picture, but I don’t think it’s worth doing, because it’s a Chuck Foose dream-car.
―The December 2010 entry of my own calendar is the most fantastic shot I snagged during my first Faudi (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”) train-chase, a double off the overpass at Lilly, PA.
It was the only double we saw, or rather what I call a “double,” two locomotive front-ends.
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| Photo by BobbaLew. |
| My July picture of the Executive Business Train. |
—But the December 2010 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is also incredible.
The Lockheed P-38 is one of the best WWII propeller fighter-planes, and the calendar picture is fantastic.
So I think I will make it number-one.
My own calendar is also fantastic, but I can’t always make it number-one.
Lockheed P-38 Lightning. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)
—The P-38 is one of the most fabulous airplanes of WWII.
It was designed by Hall Hibbard and Kelly Johnson at Lockheed, a supreme hot-rod.
It was designed in 1937.
At that time the Army Air Corps (there was no Air Force yet) required fighter-planes to be single engine.
The P-38 got by by being called an “Interceptor” instead of a fighter-plane.
It could carry twice the armament of Air Corps allowances, and boomed-and-zoomed.
A prototype P-38 set a cross-country speed-record on February 11, 1939, Burbank, CA to New York City in seven hours, two minutes, but crash-landed due to carburetor-icing.
It only had the Allison V12 motor, but turbo-supercharged, and two at 1,425 horsepower each (I get a lot of different horsepower figures, from 1,000 up to over 1,700; but 1,425 from two different sources).
The airplane had counter-rotating propellers for offsetting the engine-torque imbalance a single propeller exerts.
The engines were also counter-rotating; the only thing that had to be changed was the sparkplug sequence.
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| Photo by BobbaLew. |
| The only P-38 I’ve ever seen. |
It may have been the one pictured in this calendar; although that one has been restored, and looks great.
The Geneseo P-38 was awful, badly in need of restoration, but at least it was airworthy.
I watched it circle, and land, and taxi.
The pilot shut off the motors after parking.
“AHA!” I shouted. “Counter-rotating props. I remember that!”
I even had a model of one, my only WWII fighter-plane model.
It was yellow plastic and unpainted.
I never painted anything, for fear of making a mess.
All I did was apply the kit’s decals.
What little paint it would have needed was a few small markings, and anti-glare coatings.
I also have a video of a restored P-38 flying, and also a video of a P-51 Mustang.
To me the P-38 and the P-51 are the most gorgeous of the WWII propeller fighter-planes.
And Lockheed did well to get as much performance as they did out of that Allison V12.
The Mustang had a much stronger Packard-Merlin V12.
Pilots loved the P-38; fast, stable, responsive and maneuverable.
Although they were so fast they were encountering tail flutter at high speeds.
P-38s also suffered engine reliability problems.
No matter, they’re what I’d want.
Holy mackerel! (Photo by BobbaLew.)
―The December 2010 entry of my own calendar is one of the best train-photos I ever snagged; two head-ends approaching the overpass in Lilly, PA.
The photo was taken with Phil Faudi, the railfan extraordinaire from Altoona, PA, who supplied all-day train-chases for $125. —I did one two years ago, alone, and it blew my mind.
He called them “Adventure-Tours.”
Faudi had his rail-scanner along, tuned to 160.8, the Norfolk Southern operating channel, and knew the whereabouts of every train, as the engineers called out the signals, and various lineside defect-detectors fired off.
He knew each train by symbol, and knew all the back-roads, and how long it took to get to various photo locations — and also what made a successful photo — lighting, drama, etc.
I let Phil do the monitoring. I have a scanner myself, but I left it behind.
Phil knew every train on the scanner, where it was, and how long it took to beat it to a prime photo location.
My first time was a slow day, yet we got 20 trains. Next Tour we got 30 trains in one nine-hour day.
Phil is gonna give it up; fear of liability suits, and a really nice car he’s afraid he’d mess up.
We (Phil driving) were probably in South Fork or perhaps Portage, both towns west of Allegheny Summit, and both have branches past coal-tipples. The branch east out of South Fork is to a major coal-tipple. The line east out of Portage is the original Pennsy alignment, since bypassed, but still active as a branch. There is a coal-tipple along it too.
A coal-train had been loaded, and was now out on Track One of the old Pennsy main. It had to be moved toward Altoona, so up the West Slope, through the tunnels at Gallitzin (“guh-LIT-zin” — Allegheny Summit), and then back down toward Altoona.
It was on-the-move; Phil got it on his scanner — which tipple I don’t remember.
Phil also heard the engineer of an eastbound stacker calling out a signal on Track Two approaching South Fork.
Off we roared toward Lilly, which has a highway overpass over the old Pennsy main.
We drove out onto the overpass, stopped in the center, and “You get out, Bob. I’ll park down there and walk back up. We may get a double.”
Phil was walking back up as the coal-train approached, really hammering, far away on Track One.
“We’re gonna get a double, Bob,” he said. “Get ready!”
The coal-train got closer, moving slowly, and suddenly there was the stacker on Track Two.
BAM! Got it!
Two head-ends at once; first time ever.
Jeffries’ 1933 Ford two-door.
―The December 2010 entry of my Oxman Hot-Rod Calendar is a 1933 Ford two-door sedan, once the daily-driver of customizer Dean Jeffries.
Normally a two-door sedan would be of little interest to me, also a 1933 Ford.
The good Fords of that time are the ’32 and ’34; although the ’32 is more classic, a vertical grill-shell. —The ’34 was scowling at you (I prefer the ’32).
The two-door sedans are usually moribund. Much more desirable are the roadsters and coupes (especially three-window).
But this is a really great-looking hot-rod, chopped and channeled and sectioned.
“Chopping” is to hacksaw 3-4 inches out of the window-posts, and then weld everything back together, to lower the roof.
“Channeling” is to install 4-8 inch channels in the body-floor, so it can sit lower on the frame-rails.
“Sectioning” is to hacksaw horizontal 4-8 inch strips out of the body-sides, and then weld everything back together, to lower the overall body-height.
Getting everything to fit together after all these body-modifications was probably a struggle, but it was Jeffries.
That radiator-grill probably had to be sectioned too, along with the hood-sides.
Doing all this also scrunches the driver-post. The driver may have been driving from the back seat.
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| Cheesecake (that’s Jeffries at right — that’s also his ’46 Mercury). |
He dropped out of high-school at age 17, and gravitated into car-painting and pinstriping, after serving in Germany in the Army.
He became a major influence in custom-car culture; his paint-jobs were rather elaborate.
Jeffries was one of the first to do flame-paint, which this car has.
Jeffries was also into fabrication — building cars. He also did metalwork and car customizing.
This car was his daily-driver, gorgeous, and a rolling advertisement for his skills.
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| A ’50 Ford coupe by Jeffries (sure; get this thing in your driveway). |
First 51 south through Stanley, VA. (Photo by O. Winston Link.)
―The December 2010 entry of my O. Winston Link "Steam and Steel" calendar is a wonderful mood-shot, a Norfolk & Western freight-train crossing the main drag through Stanley, VA.
In utter darkness — I bet it’s after midnight.
The locomotive is a Y-class 2-8-8-2 articulated compound.
“Articulated” means the locomotive chassis is two segments. The rear driver-set is on the second segment, solid to the boiler — the locomotive boiler (and firebox) is mounted to the second segment.
The front driver-set is on the front chassis segment, which is hinged to the rear segment.
This allows the front segment to angle into turns, crossovers, and switches.
If the locomotive chassis wasn’t articulated, the long driver wheelbase would lateral off curved track.
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| Pennsy T1. |
“Compounding” is to use the spent steam from one set of drive-pistons (or single piston), to power other drive-pistons. In Norfolk & Western’s Y-class the spent steam from the rear drive-pistons powered the front drive-pistons.
Or sometimes the spent steam from one cylinder of a two-cylinder locomotive might power the opposite piston.
Or the spent steam from the outside drive-pistons might power a center piston (or pistons) of a three- (or four-) cylinder locomotive.
Such locomotives never became the norm; center cylinders were hard to work on.
The valve-motion was inside the driver-set.
With two outside cylinders — the norm — the valve-motion was easily accessible.
Compounding was all the rage about 1900.
But no one could really make it work.
Many railroads purchased compound articulateds, and then converted them to “simple;” the boiler powering all four drive-pistons directly.
Only Norfolk & Western made compounding work; they had numerous Y-class locomotives.
There are many details of this photograph I notice, because they are the world I was born into.
Although they may not be visible in a column-width blog photograph.
—1) Of particular interest is that telephone-booth to the right.
When was the last time you ever saw any such thing?
I have a cellphone myself.
Phone-booths are a dinosaur.
—2) Also of interest are the streetlights.
The bulbs are incandescent in flared metal housings.
Now they are self-lighting sodium-vapor, or something else.
A similar streetlight was in front of our neighbor’s house where I grew up.
It would light up the wall in my front bedroom.
I needed that light to keep away monsters.
That’s late ‘40s/early ‘50s.
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| Photo by Ian Britton. |
It indicates a two-track railroad-crossing.
I remember when stop-signs were yellow, not red. With reflective glass buttons; the background wasn’t reflective.
You had to know the stop-sign was there. They didn’t stand out; they weren’t instantly recognizable.
Railroad-crossing signs are now more-or-less standardized; like the X-sign pictured.
Although there are variations specific to conditions.
Often a second sign will be there indicating the number of tracks.
That’s incorporated in this Link sign.
But the unknowing might not know it’s a railroad-crossing sign.
—4) Also of interest are the Coke-signs part of restaurant signs.
Ya don’t see that much any more.
Apparently Coke at that time partially paid (or fully paid) for a restaurant sign if their moniker were incorporated.
The “Burns Restaurant” sign to the right has the Coke-moniker in it, as does the “Lunch” sign to the left.
Ya don’t see signs like that any more.
—5) And how about that black ’49/’50 Chevy parked on the right side of the street?
A lot of such cars were around in the world I was born into.
It might even be a “Fleetline” (fastback); although I think not.
General Motors built a lot of fastbacks in the ‘40s and early ‘50s.
My paternal grandfather’s ’42 Chevy was a Fleetline.
By the 1953 model-year the General had given up on fastbacks.
They looked kind of doughty anyway.
For 1953 the General’s postwar body was sightly upgraded.
The first car I ever drove was a ’53 Chevy, Powerglide automatic transmission with tinted glass, our first auto-tranny and turn-signals.
It was my parents’ car.
My second doctor had a fastback ’50 Chevy; it was lemon-pea green.
He took me to the hospital in it after I crashed my bicycle head-on into a maroon ’47 Ford.
The Ford was going very slowly; me probably faster on my bicycle.
The people inside were gawking at houses, and didn’t see me.
All I needed was a bandaid on my head. My bike was totaled.
This isn’t the world I was born into; the buildings are all late 19th century.
The world I was born into was more modern; a suburb.
Buildings from the ‘30s and ‘40s.
Look carefully and you’ll see a policeman walking the left sidewalk — in front of the luncheonette.
We’re slowly downhill from here. The last calendar is moribund.
1970 Cougar Eliminator. (Photo by David Newhardt.)
―The December 2010 entry of my Motorbooks Musclecars calendar is a really great picture, but only a Cougar.
It’s a great-looking car, but I never thought much of Cougars.
Apparently nor did others — not many sold. Eliminators are rare.
The Cougar was Mercury’s version of the Mustang; it uses much of the Mustang body — like the roof.
It was supposed to be a luxo version of the Mustang, and stooped to various styling tricks, e.g. disappearing quad headlights, and sequential rear turn-signals.
It kept getting bigger-and-bigger. It eventually began using the Ford Torino intermediate body; no longer the Mustang.
I drove a Torino once, a 302 Windsor V8. Very placid.
The Mustang kept growing too. By the 1971 model-year it was ridiculous; overblown and bloated.
The original Mustang was about the right size.
The best Eliminators had the 351 Cleveland V8. Also available were the much larger CobraJet V8s.
But the CobraJet motors were allegedly wimpy, or had that reputation.
A GM or Chrysler musclecar could often beat.
The 351 Cleveland was the best version of the Small-Block Ford V8; an even better design than the Small-Block Chevy.
It had more open valving, splayed valves, and was rated at 300 horsepower.
The Cleveland was the engine in the Ford Mach I Mustang — although the Mustang was faster because it was lighter.
The Ford Cobra-Jets were heavy — too much weight on the front-end.
Such an arrangement understeered — plowed.
In good tune an Eliminator could beat a GM or Chrysler musclecar in a straight line.
But they quickly fell out of tune; or so it seemed.
The really good Ford hot-rods had the lighter Cleveland V8, e.g. the “Boss 302” at 302 cubic inches (below).
They were better balanced.
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| Photo by David Newhardt. |
That’s Wood back there. (Photo by Bud Rothaar©.)
—The December 2010 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar is only there because it has photographer Don Wood far back in it.
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| Photo by Don Wood©. |
The first Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendars, in the late ‘60s, were all Wood.
Wood lived in Elizabeth, NJ.
He roamed all over the northeast, documenting the last of Pennsy steam usage, which concluded in 1957.
Particularly NJ and central PA. East of Harrisburg Pennsy was electrified, but west of Harrisburg was not electrified, so steam was still in use.
Pennsy was one of the final holdouts for steam-locomotive usage.
Steam was also in use north of Harrisburg, particularly the Mt. Carmel branch, where Pennsy dragged heavy ore-trains up to interchange with Lehigh Valley Railroad.
It was on this branch where Wood snagged his greatest picture, and this Rothaar shot is the same train, although moribund compared to Wood.
Wood is now dead, as is Rothaar.
Both were probably using heavy Press-Graphic cameras with the 4-by-5 inch black and white negative, state-of-the-art at that time.
Ummmmmm........... (Photo by Henry Stange.)
—The December 2010 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is almost laughable.
It’s only justification is that it’s Pennsy from 1950.
And it’s color.
Pennsy was slow to switch to diesels.
That’s because the railroad moved so much coal, the fuel for steam-locomotives.
Pennsy’s first diesel was an Electromotive Division “SW” switcher with an eight-cylinder Winton 201A engine in 1937.
Her number was 3908, and she was re-engined in 1958 with a 567 V6, still 600 horsepower.
Pennsy bought an EMD NW2 in 1941, plus an EMD SW1 and nine Baldwin VO-660s in 1942.
By 1950, when this picture was taken, Pennsy was on its way to full dieselization.
Steam-locomotion was still in heavy use, often in road-service.
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| Photo by BobbaLew. |
| S-12 #8761. |
I lived in northern Delaware at that time.
It’s a 1,200 horsepower S-12.
I took it because it was all I could get.
Nothing was moving on the adjacent Pennsy NY-to-Washington main.
This calendar picture looks the same.
Like nothing but this brace of switchers showed up on the Pennsy line east of Logansport, IN.
Slogging switchers rarely rated photography. What we wanted was road-power boomin’-and-zoomin’.
In my youth that was a GG1 (“Jee-Jee-ONE;” I only say that because a friend was mispronouncing it “Jee-Jee-Eye”) on a “Red-Apple” passenger express — see below.
The first diesel locomotives I ever saw were Baldwin road-switchers on PRSL.
“PRSL” (Pennsylvania-Reading [‘RED-ing,’ not ‘READ-ing’] Seashore Lines) is an amalgamation of Pennsylvania and Reading railroad-lines in south 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.
PRSL is where I first became a railfan.
The Baldwin road-switchers are what replaced steam-locomotion on PRSL, which means I was lucky enough to witness steam in revenue service — that was late ‘40s and early ‘50s.
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| Model S-12 #8761. |
Do I buy it or not? 80 bucks.
No model railroad to run it on, nor do I want one.
All they do is collect dust.
I certainly have been involved in enough model-railroad layouts.
I had model-trains of my own (Lionel), and helped a young neighbor friend build a giant HO model-railroad layout in 1959.
What I really want is an HO GG1, the greatest railroad-locomotive of all time.
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| Photo by BobbaLew. |
| This thing was doin’ at least 80. |
8761 is coupled to a Dupont covered-hopper. The overpass to a giant Dupont plant is visible.
Northern Delaware is mainly Dupont.
I should do one final picture from MY OWN calendar.
(Photo by BobbaLew.)
It’s at Horseshoe Curve near Altoona (“al-TUNE-uh), PA, by far the BEST railfan spot I have ever been to.
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EMD GP9 #7048 is visible at left in the cover-picture.
7048 replaced a Pennsy K4 Pacific, #1361 (below), 4-6-2, that was to be restored.
1361 had been in the Curve viewing-area since 1957, being built in Altoona.
1361 was severely deteriorated, but they got it running.
It didn’t even have a stack-cap, so its boiler-barrel was half-filled with snow-melt.
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| Photo by BobbaLew. |
| K4 #1361. |
This included many new parts.
The locomotive was moved to Steamtown in Scranton, PA, for restoration in their shop.
But restoration was bog-slow.
1361 was in bad shape.
Even the smokebox had to be rebuilt.
Years passed, and eventually Railroaders’ Memorial Museum in Altoona, owners of 1361, gave up.
1361 was too far gone.
Getting it running would cost a fortune.
This cover-picture is an old picture, 2005.
7048 is rusted, but still has its red keystone icon.
7048 has since been repainted, but no keystone yet.
Horseshoe Curve is now operated by Norfolk Southern Railroad.
They operate the old cross-PA Pennsylvania Railroad line.
Pennsy merged with New York Central Railroad in 1968 as Penn-Central and that failed.
Penn-Central was merged into Conrail (Consolidated Railroad Corporation) by the government with other eastern bankrupt railroads, and eventually Conrail cut loose from government involvement.
It significantly streamlined and rebuilt, and became profitable and private.
Conrail was broken up in 1999. Most of the ex-Pennsy lines went to Norfolk Southern, and the ex New York Central lines went to CSX (railroad).
The passing train is downhill.
That’s an EMD SD70M on the point, followed by a GE Dash 9-40CW.
Horseshoe Curve is a fabulous place to watch trains, smack in the apex of a horseshoe-shaped curve.
It’s a giant amphitheater, and trains are so frequent you’ll probably see one if you wait 20 minutes.
And it’ll be right in your face.
The train-engineers blow the horn at waving train-watchers.
And climbing is wide-open; assaulting the heavens!
The Curve is also a hill; 1.8% up-and-down.
That’s 1.8 feet up for every 100 feet forward.
Not very steep, but steep enough to often require helper locomotives, both climbing and descending.
Descending is “dynamic-braking;” turning the locomotive traction-motors into generators. —They provide braking action at the locomotive.
If braking failed, the train might run away downhill into Altoona. It’s happened.
The Curve is deteriorating as a tourist-draw.
It used to be the parade of steam-locomotives kept down the brush with their ash.
With diesels the brush grows, and it’s volunteers that cut it back.
Everything is grown back up. It’s no longer possible to see the legs of the Curve.
And of course one leg is higher than the other — the southern calk.
The brush was cut back a few years ago, and trees felled.
But it’s growing back.
And Norfolk Southern isn’t Pennsy, which seemed proud of the Curve.
I’ve always been pleasantly surprised by this picture.
I’ve shot hundreds of photos at Horseshoe Curve, and this was the only one that worked.
My eye for a photograph isn’t that good, so what I do is just shoot. Shoot and see if it’s any good. Shoot with abandon.
It helps no one was in this picture; it’s a view I try to repeat.
7048 is in the picture, and that tree to the right frames the moving train.
My Oxman hot-rod calendar also has an additional picture, but I don’t think it’s worth doing, because it’s a Chuck Foose dream-car.
Labels: Monthly Calendar Report
posted by BobbaLew at 9:30 AM
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