Monthly Calendar Report for November, 2010
They’re all fairly good this month, except the last. The first (my calendar) is great.
Under the six-targets signal-bridge at McFarland’s Curve. (Photo by BobbaLew.)
―The November 2010 entry of my own calendar is at a location I call “Six Targets.”
It’s actually at McFarland’s Curve, north (railroad east) of Altoona (“al TUNE-uh;” as in the name “Al”), PA, on the old Pennsy main.
This is one of my favorite photo locations near Altoona, mainly because of that six-target signal-bridge.
It makes a very photogenic picture.
There are other photo locations similar to this, like Summerhill (at left), south (railroad west) of Altoona, on the western slope of Allegheny Crossing.
But Summerhill has distractions, particularly a highway bridge.
Both locations were shown to me by Phil Faudi (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”).
Phil is the railfan extraordinaire from Altoona, who supplied all-day train-chases for $125. —I did one two years ago, alone, and it blew my mind.
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 would take 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 left it behind.
Phil knew every train on the scanner, where it was, and how long it would take to beat it to a prime photo location.
Phil showed me how to get to six-targets; I think I could get there myself.
It’s up a dirt jeep-track off a main highway.
The jeep-track actually crosses the tracks, to the right out of view.
The railroad is actually two tracks, the ones farthest away.
The nearest (of the three) is actually a siding; although the right-of-way is the old Pennsy “broad way.”
Everything is operable both ways, which explains the six target-signals.
Phil will stop doing his rail-tours at the end of this year, and I have since found Six-Targets on my own.
Deuce hot-rod.
―The November 2010 entry of my Oxman Hot-Rod Calendar is a 1932 Ford roadster hot-rod.
The only things wrong with this car are -1) the color, and -2) the fact it’s based on a Studebaker.
The engine is Studebaker, and I think the color is too.
The hubcaps are also Studebaker, but that’s okay.
I used to say the 1953 Studebaker Starliner coupe was the most successful and beautiful automotive styling of all time.
It was styled by industrial-designer Raymond Loewy (“low-eee”), first as a styling concept.
But Studebaker, then floundering, decided to get Loewy’s design into production.
Compared to what most other automotive manufacturers were fielding in 1953, it’s striking and dramatic.
General Motors’ product was bloated and bland.
Ford wasn’t too bad, but Chrysler was turgid and boring.
Other manufacturers, like Packard and Hudson, seemed to be mimicking GM.
But Studebaker’s Starliner coupe was lean.
Unfortunately it was a bit too dramatic for American tastes.
But to me it was extraordinarily successful — Loewy had styled a classic.
But a good friend of mine protested; to him the Jaguar XK-E was the most successful and beautiful automotive styling of all time.
Comparing a Stud and a Jag (both pictured) at a car-show in Watkins Glen, I have to agree.
The Stud is big and blowzy. It reminds of the silly efforts of the ‘50s of General Motors.
The Stud is lean, but it ain’t the Jag.
The Jag is smallish and tight.
My friend explained he had ridden in an E-Jag once, that it blew him away.
He was down on the pavement.
When I was in high-school, I had another friend with a white XK-E coupe.
He got it instead of a Corvette, which was rather unsophisticated at that time.
This was 1962 — the ‘Vette was still pretty much the same car as introduced in 1953.
The ‘Vette upgraded to the fabulous Small-Block V8 after 1955.
The Jag was an entire concept; not just dramatic body styling on a turgid chassis.
About all the ‘Vettes had was that fabulous Small-Block engine, and a four-speed floor-shifted standard transmission.
Driving such a layout makes you a convert.
The Jag was only a six, but motivated great. —It was double overhead camshafts; state-of-the-art at that time.
And the chassis-body was monocoque (“mono-COKE;” as is “ahn”); that is, no frame.
The Corvette, by comparison, was antediluvian.
The Small-Block is the motor this hot-rod should have, not the Studebaker V8.
Still this hot-rod looks pretty fine.
They did it right.
All that’s wrong are -1) that color, and -2) that isn’t the Chevy Small-Block.
The greatest railroad locomotive of all time. (Photo by George Krambles.)
—The November 2010 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is what I consider to be the greatest railroad locomotive of all time.
That would be the Pennsylvania Railroad’s fabulous GG1 (“Jee-Jee-ONE;” I only say that because a friend was mispronouncing it “Jee-Jee-Eye”) electric locomotive.
Calling the GG1 the greatest railroad locomotive of all time is somewhat a stretch.
It doesn’t develop its power on the locomotive; it’s getting it from the overhead wire.
It’s 1958, so the locomotive still has the five-pinstripes “cat-whisker” paint-scheme developed by industrial designer Raymond Loewy.
Loewy didn’t actually design the locomotive, as is sometimes said.
All he did was a few small styling fillips, like curving the front door around the headlight-top, the single Cyclops eye.
He also convinced the railroad to do an all-welded steel shell, instead of a riveted shell.
Only one GG1, #4800 (pictured at left) has a riveted shell.
It still exists, and is at the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania.
You’ll also note Old Rivets doesn’t have the front door curved around the headlight.
All the other GG1s are Loewy’s welded shell, and the cat-whisker design didn’t last forever.
It was too hard to paint — too maintenance intensive.
I only got one cat-whiskers, a GG1 coming into Wilmington (DE) station in December of 1960 (below).
By 1960 few cat-whiskers were left, replaced by a simpler paint-scheme.
I’ve added a picture of my own of this newer paint-scheme (below), the single-stripe scheme with large “Pennsylvania” lettering and a big keystone.
4896 is the only G I ever went through; midnight at Washington Union Station in early 1966.
Gs were impressive, a giant truss-bridge frame.
Once a G hit a bulldozer on a flatbed at a grade-crossing in Newark, DE. Tossed the ‘dozer 300 feet (that’s a football-grid), yet stayed on the track. The only damage to the G was a big dent.
The Gs lasted 50 years; a steam-locomotive might last 30, a diesel maybe 20.
And the crews loved ‘em.
The wheel layout was 4-6-0+0-6-4, articulated in the center. —Same as the G-series steam-locomotives (4-6-0), which is why it’s called GG1.
The G pictured is pulling a Lehigh Valley passenger-train.
Up until the end of Lehigh Valley passenger service in early 1961, Pennsy delivered Valley passenger trains into New York City.
Most other railroads continued ferry service across the Hudson River from northern New Jersey.
Only Pennsy, and Lehigh Valley via Pennsy, went into the city directly.
Of interest to me is that first baggage-car.
It looks articulated — two segments.
I only see two trucks, not a center truck, or other trucks in the center.
Although a center-truck might be hidden by that center box hanging from the floor-frame.
The car appears to be two segments, each shorter than a conventional baggage-car.
And the “Lehigh Valley” lettering is split between the two segments.
AiraCobra. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)
—The November 2010 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is a P39 Bell AiraCobra.
The P-39 single-seat fighter was a radical design for its day.
It was designed around a 37mm T-9 cannon which, in order to maximize the airplane's forward firepower, was fitted to fire through the propeller hub.
In order for the cannon to fit inside the nose, the engine was placed behind the cockpit, and drove the propeller via a long shaft which passed under the pilot's feet.
The center-of-gravity shift resulted in the need for a tricycle landing-gear arrangement, the first of it's kind among WWII fighter-planes.
Only two remain flyable.
The P39 used the Allison V12 engine at 1,200 horsepower.
That’s not extraordinary.
The Mustang was 1,695 horsepower.
But the AiraCobra, though hampered by its lack of a turbo-supercharger, was a very satisfactory low-altitude attack airplane, and served as faithfully as any other combat aircraft.
I remember being intrigued by the AiraCobra; that its engine was behind the pilot.
But it’s not much of a hot-rod, like the Mustang.
The P39 and its P63 upgrade were built locally, Buffalo and Niagara Falls.
The airplane pictured is “Miss Connie,” one of the two remaining P39s still flyable.
It’s owned and operated by the West Texas Wing of the Commemorative Air Force.
Miss Connie, a P39Q.
I have blogged a second shot of it, mainly because I think it’s better.
So here’s photographer Makanna open-cockpit in his photo-plane, in radio-contact with the P39 pilot.
“Now buzz me,” he says.
The P39 pilot does so, but has to bank off to the right to avoid Makanna’s plane.
Which is where we see the P39, banking away.
The pilots of Makanna’s subjects are always looking his way — to avoid in-air collision.
The sun is low, and illuminates the underside of the P39.
The light looks unnatural — compare the better second shot.
The shadow of the P39’s wing partially obstructs.
The P39 was a weird duck. I never had a model of it — in fact never had models of any WWII fighter-planes.
I did have a model P-38.
What I had were a B-36, a B-47, a B-52, and all the Century-Series fighter-jets, the F-100, the F-101, the F-102 Delta Dagger, the F-104 Lockheed Starfighter, and maybe even the F-105.
What I liked most was the Starfighter, a beautiful hot-rod.
My bomber-kits were all Revell. I also had an Aurora B-26 kit my parents got me as a Christmas-present, which was awful.
Its wings were cemented to the fuselage with tabs only about a quarter-inch deep, so they drooped.
The Revell bomber-kits all had giant interlocking wing-tabs, so the wings never drooped.
Face-wash. (Photo by O. Winston Link.)
―The November 2010 entry of my O. Winston Link "Steam and Steel" calendar is a bunch of steam-locomotives being face-washed in the Bristol, VA roundhouse.
Visible are good old #104 engine, a 4-8-2 Mountain, often used in passenger-service.
It’s having its face washed.
It’s appeared in a slew of photographs, e.g. the January 2010 photo at left.
104 has been in other photographs, e.g. the June 2010 photo below.
Also visible is 4-8-0 Mastodon #382, probably in from “the Virginia Creeper;” Train 201.
382 was in my October 2010 entry (last one).
Apparently Link got the cooperation of the night-time crew at the Bristol, VA engine-terminal.
Stuff was placed here-and-there for photography.
The June picture had a hostler placing 104 under a water-plug.
That looks like a Mastodon approaching; perhaps 382.
104 has a horizontally slatted pilot, also used by Pennsy.
Most pilot cow-catchers were vertically slatted, made from old boiler-tubes.
382 was used on Train 201, “the Virginia Creeper,” a mixed-train on the Abingdon Branch.
That’s both passenger and freight.
Stand back! (Photo by Don Wood©.)
—The November 2010 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar is another Don Wood photograph.
When the Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar was first published in the late ‘60s, it was all Don Wood photographs.
Don Wood was based in Elizabeth, N.J., but traveled all over the northeast to record the conclusion of Pennsylvania Railroad steam-locomotive usage, which ended in 1957.
But mainly New Jersey and Pennsylvania.
Most of his Pennsylvania steam-locomotive pictures were Harrisburg to Altoona, Pennsy’s storied Middle Division.
East of Harrisburg, Pennsy was electrified — no steam.
Steam was also in use around Northumberland, PA, the Mt. Carmel branch.
Steam was also in use up the Elmira branch to the Sodus Point wharf on Lake Ontario, coal to Canada.
I think a few Wood photos were shot on this line, even up into southeastern NY.
Steam was also in use in Jersey, NY&LB in north Jersey, and PRSL in south Jersey.
NY&LB (New York & Long Branch) was really a Central of New Jersey (CNJ) line, that Pennsy got trackage-rights on after threatening to build its own line.
Pennsy used the line for commuter-service; out from New York City, then into northern New Jersey.
Pennsy’s commuter-service was electrified out of New York City, then non-electrified on the NY&LB.
Locomotives retired from mainline passenger-service were brought to the NY&LB for use south of the electrification.
Pennsy steam-engines at first, then diesel.
One of the best photographs Wood ever took ran in last month’s Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar: good old K4 Pacific (4-6-2) #612.
It was shot in fall of 1957, a “Farewell to Steam” excursion on NY&LB through Freehold, NJ.
“PRSL“ is Pennsylvania-Reading (“RED-ing,” not “READ-ing”) Seashore Lines, 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.
Steam locomotion was used on PRSL through about 1955.
My railfanning began with steam on PRSL.
Wood gravitated to Atlantic City, NJ to capture PRSL steam, which included both Pennsy and Reading, but mainly Pennsy.
PRSL also had a branch to Ocean City, NJ, and Wood captured the famous “Lindbergh Engine” on it, #460, a 4-4-2 Atlantic.
Pennsy had beat the airplanes delivering film to New York City theaters, after Lindbergh returned to Washington DC. At that time (1927) the Northeast Corridor was not yet fully electrified.
The train was pulled by #460, and beat because a baggage-car had been converted to a darkroom.
The airplane users still had to develop their films.
I tried to reprise some of Wood’s Middle Division photos in the late ‘60s, but failed.
Things had changed.
Many of Wood’s bucolic rural settings had grown in with development.
This was especially true east of Huntingdon, where Wood had shot a 4-8-2 Mountain powered fast-freight off a highway overpass.
It’s a great shot, but I couldn’t repeat it. The background was all industrial development that hadn’t been there when Wood shot.
To me, this is one of Wood’s less successful photographs; although you may disagree.
It has all the elements of a great steam-locomotive photograph, especially that perfectly-formed exhaust cloud.
But to me that highway bridge impinges.
The calendar says it’s State Highway 14 passing over the tracks near Sunbury, PA.
I looked it up in my Google satellite-views, but don’t see Highway 14 near Sunbury at all.
I’ve heard of it; I pass it at Trout Run, PA on Route 15 on my way to the Mighty Curve.
It’s farther west, the road to Elmira, NY.
The railroad is probably Pennsy’s line to Erie/Buffalo. The train is a manifest from there to Harrisburg, actually Enola (“aye-NOLE-uh”) Yard across from Harrisburg.
Enola ended up being Pennsy’s main freight-yard near Harrisburg; Harrisburg was too cramped.
The original Pennsy main was Harrisburg to Pittsburgh, but was soon swamped.
The locomotive is M1 Mountain #6962, 4-8-2.
The M1 was designed as a mixed service locomotive, but ended up more pulling fast freight.
Its drivers were too small for passenger-service, only 72 inches diameter (that’s six feet, people).
Booming-and-zooming in passenger-service required 80-inch steam-locomotive drivers.
Pennsy eventually did an 80-inch driver four-coupled locomotive, the T1 (at left), but it was actually a 4-4-4-4, a duplex.
The 80-inch drivers were on a rigid frame, not articulated, but with four drive-pistons.
It’s sort of the same 4-8-4 everyone else was building in the late ‘30s, except it’s 1939 and post-WWII, with four drive-pistons instead of two.
The T1s weren’t very successful; too smoky, and slippery, especially the front driver-set.
Even at 100 mph!
If the front set started slipping, the whole locomotive had to be reined in — the front set wasn’t carrying the same heavy load the rear set was carrying.
The M1 (and M1a) was extremely successful.
But mainly transporting fast freight.
72-inch drivers are too big for drag freight.
The M1 was Pennsy’s first application of a combustion-chamber ahead of the firebox grate. It promoted greater burning of the coal.
The M1a modified and improved the M1, particularly the steam-delivery pipes to the cylinders. On the M1a those pipes were inside a cast cylinder-saddle, instead of outside as they had been on previous Pennsy steam-locomotives, including the M1.
1965 Impala Super-Sport. (Photo by David Newhardt.)
―The November 2010 entry of my Motorbooks Musclecars calendar is laughable.
It’s a 1965 Impala SS.
Ho-hum!
The Super-Sport (“SS”) concept is laudable, but a full-size ’65 Chevy with a 327 Small-Block is hardly a musclecar. (The car’s a 327.)
Anyone driving a G-T-O threatened by such a car would laugh.
The 327 Small-Block is a great engine, but the car is a bloated grocery-getter. Too big and heavy for a 327.
The car needs a Big-Block, which weren’t yet available.
1965 was the last year of the 409, a hot-rodded and bored-and-stroked 348 cubic-inch truck-engine.
Boring a 348 was asking for trouble.
Each 409 block-casting had to be checked for casting porosity, leakage through the cylinder-walls.
No matter, the 409 was a bolt-of-lightning when released into the 1961 model-year. —I think it was March of ’61.
It was the first time a manufacturer had taken a hot-rodded engine across the 400 cubic-inch barrier. Mercury had a 430, but it wasn’t a hot-rodded engine — that is, it was a slug, just a big engine to move a big car.
1965 is also the year I lost interest.
I know every Chevrolet from 1937 through 1964, with the exception of the ’47 and ’48, which are almost identical, and ’49 and ’50, which are slightly different in their grills, and I don’t remember how.
By 1965, Chevrolet was no longer the fabulous little cars the ’55, ’56 and ’57 were.
They had grown so big and heavy the Small-Block was overwhelmed. They needed that big 348 cubic-inch truck-engine to keep up.
The ’61 and ’62 Chevys are fairly interesting; spare, but still big and heavy.
The 1961 model-year was also the year the 409 was introduced, extremely interesting.
The 409 was a siren-song; I remember a couple kids from high-school getting them.
One traded a hot-rodded ’57; another a Corvette. (Corvettes of that time didn’t have the truck-motor.)
When I first began attending drag-races at Cecil County Drag-O-Way, in the summer of 1964, someone was racing a ’61 409 Chevy business-coupe; mighta been Bill “Grumpy” Jenkins.
The car was unbeatable; it always won.
And by then Dodge was fielding drag-cars, wheelbase altered to throw more weight on the slicks.
But it took a lot to beat “Grumpy.”
The following year he graduated to a Plymouth Hemi, and was unbeatable in that.
The altered wheelbase Dodges were also catching up.
Grumpy’s Hemi might have had an altered wheelbase too; I forget.
Super-Stock drag-racing was getting out-of-hand.
Altered wheelbase worked fine for drag-racing, but little else.
Not only that, it looked ridiculous.
We also started getting “Funny-Cars.”
Essentially rail-dragsters sheathed in fiberglass bodies made to look like stock cars.
But only if you could accept wildly modified proportions, and decal headlights.
I.e. they were hardly stock.
The 409 Chevy was a car available at a dealer.
You weren’t building it from scratch.
It was a stock sedan with a giant hot-rodded motor.
A Chevrolet.
Sadly, the 409 became moribund.
It was replaced by Chevrolet’s “Big-Block” motor, first at 396 cubic-inches in the 1966 model-year.
It was essentially the “porcupine” motor introduced at the 1965 Daytona 500.
“Porcupine” because it had cylinder-heads with splayed ball-stud rockers — the valve-stems splayed at all angles, like a porcupine.
They allowed a combustion-chamber that was almost a Hemi; it could breathe extremely well at high speed.
The Big-Block was also a larger casting than the 348.
It had wider bore-centers, so could be enlarged without encountering porosity problems.
The Big-Block was eventually enlarged to 454 cubic-inches, and even larger versions are available now for self-installation.
’65 Chevys are forgettable.
And an SS with a 327 is nice, but hardly a musclecar.
Under the six-targets signal-bridge at McFarland’s Curve. (Photo by BobbaLew.)
―The November 2010 entry of my own calendar is at a location I call “Six Targets.”
It’s actually at McFarland’s Curve, north (railroad east) of Altoona (“al TUNE-uh;” as in the name “Al”), PA, on the old Pennsy main.
This is one of my favorite photo locations near Altoona, mainly because of that six-target signal-bridge.
It makes a very photogenic picture.
 |
| Photo by BobbaLew. |
| January picture, at Summerhill, PA. |
But Summerhill has distractions, particularly a highway bridge.
Both locations were shown to me by Phil Faudi (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”).
Phil is the railfan extraordinaire from Altoona, who supplied all-day train-chases for $125. —I did one two years ago, alone, and it blew my mind.
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 would take 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 left it behind.
Phil knew every train on the scanner, where it was, and how long it would take to beat it to a prime photo location.
Phil showed me how to get to six-targets; I think I could get there myself.
It’s up a dirt jeep-track off a main highway.
The jeep-track actually crosses the tracks, to the right out of view.
The railroad is actually two tracks, the ones farthest away.
The nearest (of the three) is actually a siding; although the right-of-way is the old Pennsy “broad way.”
Everything is operable both ways, which explains the six target-signals.
Phil will stop doing his rail-tours at the end of this year, and I have since found Six-Targets on my own.
Deuce hot-rod.
―The November 2010 entry of my Oxman Hot-Rod Calendar is a 1932 Ford roadster hot-rod.
The only things wrong with this car are -1) the color, and -2) the fact it’s based on a Studebaker.
The engine is Studebaker, and I think the color is too.
The hubcaps are also Studebaker, but that’s okay.
 |
| Photo by BobbaLew. |
| 1953 Studebaker Starliner coupe. |
It was styled by industrial-designer Raymond Loewy (“low-eee”), first as a styling concept.
But Studebaker, then floundering, decided to get Loewy’s design into production.
Compared to what most other automotive manufacturers were fielding in 1953, it’s striking and dramatic.
General Motors’ product was bloated and bland.
Ford wasn’t too bad, but Chrysler was turgid and boring.
Other manufacturers, like Packard and Hudson, seemed to be mimicking GM.
But Studebaker’s Starliner coupe was lean.
Unfortunately it was a bit too dramatic for American tastes.
But to me it was extraordinarily successful — Loewy had styled a classic.
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| Photo by BobbaLew. |
| E-Jag roadster. |
Comparing a Stud and a Jag (both pictured) at a car-show in Watkins Glen, I have to agree.
The Stud is big and blowzy. It reminds of the silly efforts of the ‘50s of General Motors.
The Stud is lean, but it ain’t the Jag.
The Jag is smallish and tight.
My friend explained he had ridden in an E-Jag once, that it blew him away.
He was down on the pavement.
When I was in high-school, I had another friend with a white XK-E coupe.
He got it instead of a Corvette, which was rather unsophisticated at that time.
This was 1962 — the ‘Vette was still pretty much the same car as introduced in 1953.
The ‘Vette upgraded to the fabulous Small-Block V8 after 1955.
The Jag was an entire concept; not just dramatic body styling on a turgid chassis.
About all the ‘Vettes had was that fabulous Small-Block engine, and a four-speed floor-shifted standard transmission.
Driving such a layout makes you a convert.
The Jag was only a six, but motivated great. —It was double overhead camshafts; state-of-the-art at that time.
And the chassis-body was monocoque (“mono-COKE;” as is “ahn”); that is, no frame.
The Corvette, by comparison, was antediluvian.
The Small-Block is the motor this hot-rod should have, not the Studebaker V8.
Still this hot-rod looks pretty fine.
They did it right.
All that’s wrong are -1) that color, and -2) that isn’t the Chevy Small-Block.
The greatest railroad locomotive of all time. (Photo by George Krambles.)
—The November 2010 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is what I consider to be the greatest railroad locomotive of all time.
That would be the Pennsylvania Railroad’s fabulous GG1 (“Jee-Jee-ONE;” I only say that because a friend was mispronouncing it “Jee-Jee-Eye”) electric locomotive.
Calling the GG1 the greatest railroad locomotive of all time is somewhat a stretch.
It doesn’t develop its power on the locomotive; it’s getting it from the overhead wire.
 |
| Old Rivets (#4800), the only G with a riveted shell. |
Loewy didn’t actually design the locomotive, as is sometimes said.
All he did was a few small styling fillips, like curving the front door around the headlight-top, the single Cyclops eye.
He also convinced the railroad to do an all-welded steel shell, instead of a riveted shell.
Only one GG1, #4800 (pictured at left) has a riveted shell.
It still exists, and is at the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania.
You’ll also note Old Rivets doesn’t have the front door curved around the headlight.
All the other GG1s are Loewy’s welded shell, and the cat-whisker design didn’t last forever.
It was too hard to paint — too maintenance intensive.
I only got one cat-whiskers, a GG1 coming into Wilmington (DE) station in December of 1960 (below).
 |
| Photo by BobbaLew. |
| My only cat-whisker, #4870. |
I’ve added a picture of my own of this newer paint-scheme (below), the single-stripe scheme with large “Pennsylvania” lettering and a big keystone.
4896 is the only G I ever went through; midnight at Washington Union Station in early 1966.
Gs were impressive, a giant truss-bridge frame.
Once a G hit a bulldozer on a flatbed at a grade-crossing in Newark, DE. Tossed the ‘dozer 300 feet (that’s a football-grid), yet stayed on the track. The only damage to the G was a big dent.
 |
| Photo by BobbaLew. |
And the crews loved ‘em.
The wheel layout was 4-6-0+0-6-4, articulated in the center. —Same as the G-series steam-locomotives (4-6-0), which is why it’s called GG1.
The G pictured is pulling a Lehigh Valley passenger-train.
Up until the end of Lehigh Valley passenger service in early 1961, Pennsy delivered Valley passenger trains into New York City.
Most other railroads continued ferry service across the Hudson River from northern New Jersey.
Only Pennsy, and Lehigh Valley via Pennsy, went into the city directly.
Of interest to me is that first baggage-car.
It looks articulated — two segments.
I only see two trucks, not a center truck, or other trucks in the center.
Although a center-truck might be hidden by that center box hanging from the floor-frame.
The car appears to be two segments, each shorter than a conventional baggage-car.
And the “Lehigh Valley” lettering is split between the two segments.
AiraCobra. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)
—The November 2010 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is a P39 Bell AiraCobra.
The P-39 single-seat fighter was a radical design for its day.
It was designed around a 37mm T-9 cannon which, in order to maximize the airplane's forward firepower, was fitted to fire through the propeller hub.
In order for the cannon to fit inside the nose, the engine was placed behind the cockpit, and drove the propeller via a long shaft which passed under the pilot's feet.
The center-of-gravity shift resulted in the need for a tricycle landing-gear arrangement, the first of it's kind among WWII fighter-planes.
Only two remain flyable.
The P39 used the Allison V12 engine at 1,200 horsepower.
That’s not extraordinary.
The Mustang was 1,695 horsepower.
But the AiraCobra, though hampered by its lack of a turbo-supercharger, was a very satisfactory low-altitude attack airplane, and served as faithfully as any other combat aircraft.
I remember being intrigued by the AiraCobra; that its engine was behind the pilot.
But it’s not much of a hot-rod, like the Mustang.
The P39 and its P63 upgrade were built locally, Buffalo and Niagara Falls.
The airplane pictured is “Miss Connie,” one of the two remaining P39s still flyable.
It’s owned and operated by the West Texas Wing of the Commemorative Air Force.
Miss Connie, a P39Q.
I have blogged a second shot of it, mainly because I think it’s better.
So here’s photographer Makanna open-cockpit in his photo-plane, in radio-contact with the P39 pilot.
“Now buzz me,” he says.
The P39 pilot does so, but has to bank off to the right to avoid Makanna’s plane.
Which is where we see the P39, banking away.
The pilots of Makanna’s subjects are always looking his way — to avoid in-air collision.
The sun is low, and illuminates the underside of the P39.
The light looks unnatural — compare the better second shot.
The shadow of the P39’s wing partially obstructs.
The P39 was a weird duck. I never had a model of it — in fact never had models of any WWII fighter-planes.
I did have a model P-38.
What I had were a B-36, a B-47, a B-52, and all the Century-Series fighter-jets, the F-100, the F-101, the F-102 Delta Dagger, the F-104 Lockheed Starfighter, and maybe even the F-105.
What I liked most was the Starfighter, a beautiful hot-rod.
My bomber-kits were all Revell. I also had an Aurora B-26 kit my parents got me as a Christmas-present, which was awful.
Its wings were cemented to the fuselage with tabs only about a quarter-inch deep, so they drooped.
The Revell bomber-kits all had giant interlocking wing-tabs, so the wings never drooped.
Face-wash. (Photo by O. Winston Link.)
―The November 2010 entry of my O. Winston Link "Steam and Steel" calendar is a bunch of steam-locomotives being face-washed in the Bristol, VA roundhouse.
Visible are good old #104 engine, a 4-8-2 Mountain, often used in passenger-service.
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| Photo by O. Winston Link. |
| The January photograph. |
It’s appeared in a slew of photographs, e.g. the January 2010 photo at left.
104 has been in other photographs, e.g. the June 2010 photo below.
Also visible is 4-8-0 Mastodon #382, probably in from “the Virginia Creeper;” Train 201.
382 was in my October 2010 entry (last one).
Apparently Link got the cooperation of the night-time crew at the Bristol, VA engine-terminal.
Stuff was placed here-and-there for photography.
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| Photo by O. Winston Link. |
| The June photograph. |
That looks like a Mastodon approaching; perhaps 382.
104 has a horizontally slatted pilot, also used by Pennsy.
Most pilot cow-catchers were vertically slatted, made from old boiler-tubes.
382 was used on Train 201, “the Virginia Creeper,” a mixed-train on the Abingdon Branch.
That’s both passenger and freight.
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| Photo by O. Winston Link. |
| The October photograph, “the Virginia Creeper.” |
Stand back! (Photo by Don Wood©.)—The November 2010 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar is another Don Wood photograph.
When the Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar was first published in the late ‘60s, it was all Don Wood photographs.
Don Wood was based in Elizabeth, N.J., but traveled all over the northeast to record the conclusion of Pennsylvania Railroad steam-locomotive usage, which ended in 1957.
But mainly New Jersey and Pennsylvania.
Most of his Pennsylvania steam-locomotive pictures were Harrisburg to Altoona, Pennsy’s storied Middle Division.
East of Harrisburg, Pennsy was electrified — no steam.
Steam was also in use around Northumberland, PA, the Mt. Carmel branch.
Steam was also in use up the Elmira branch to the Sodus Point wharf on Lake Ontario, coal to Canada.
I think a few Wood photos were shot on this line, even up into southeastern NY.
Steam was also in use in Jersey, NY&LB in north Jersey, and PRSL in south Jersey.
NY&LB (New York & Long Branch) was really a Central of New Jersey (CNJ) line, that Pennsy got trackage-rights on after threatening to build its own line.
Pennsy used the line for commuter-service; out from New York City, then into northern New Jersey.
Pennsy’s commuter-service was electrified out of New York City, then non-electrified on the NY&LB.
Locomotives retired from mainline passenger-service were brought to the NY&LB for use south of the electrification.
Pennsy steam-engines at first, then diesel.
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| Photo by Don Wood©. |
| The October Wood photograph. |
It was shot in fall of 1957, a “Farewell to Steam” excursion on NY&LB through Freehold, NJ.
“PRSL“ is Pennsylvania-Reading (“RED-ing,” not “READ-ing”) Seashore Lines, 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.
Steam locomotion was used on PRSL through about 1955.
My railfanning began with steam on PRSL.
Wood gravitated to Atlantic City, NJ to capture PRSL steam, which included both Pennsy and Reading, but mainly Pennsy.
PRSL also had a branch to Ocean City, NJ, and Wood captured the famous “Lindbergh Engine” on it, #460, a 4-4-2 Atlantic.
Pennsy had beat the airplanes delivering film to New York City theaters, after Lindbergh returned to Washington DC. At that time (1927) the Northeast Corridor was not yet fully electrified.
The train was pulled by #460, and beat because a baggage-car had been converted to a darkroom.
The airplane users still had to develop their films.
I tried to reprise some of Wood’s Middle Division photos in the late ‘60s, but failed.
Things had changed.
Many of Wood’s bucolic rural settings had grown in with development.
This was especially true east of Huntingdon, where Wood had shot a 4-8-2 Mountain powered fast-freight off a highway overpass.
It’s a great shot, but I couldn’t repeat it. The background was all industrial development that hadn’t been there when Wood shot.
To me, this is one of Wood’s less successful photographs; although you may disagree.
It has all the elements of a great steam-locomotive photograph, especially that perfectly-formed exhaust cloud.
But to me that highway bridge impinges.
The calendar says it’s State Highway 14 passing over the tracks near Sunbury, PA.
I looked it up in my Google satellite-views, but don’t see Highway 14 near Sunbury at all.
I’ve heard of it; I pass it at Trout Run, PA on Route 15 on my way to the Mighty Curve.
It’s farther west, the road to Elmira, NY.
The railroad is probably Pennsy’s line to Erie/Buffalo. The train is a manifest from there to Harrisburg, actually Enola (“aye-NOLE-uh”) Yard across from Harrisburg.
Enola ended up being Pennsy’s main freight-yard near Harrisburg; Harrisburg was too cramped.
The original Pennsy main was Harrisburg to Pittsburgh, but was soon swamped.
The locomotive is M1 Mountain #6962, 4-8-2.
The M1 was designed as a mixed service locomotive, but ended up more pulling fast freight.
Its drivers were too small for passenger-service, only 72 inches diameter (that’s six feet, people).
Booming-and-zooming in passenger-service required 80-inch steam-locomotive drivers.
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The 80-inch drivers were on a rigid frame, not articulated, but with four drive-pistons.
It’s sort of the same 4-8-4 everyone else was building in the late ‘30s, except it’s 1939 and post-WWII, with four drive-pistons instead of two.
The T1s weren’t very successful; too smoky, and slippery, especially the front driver-set.
Even at 100 mph!
If the front set started slipping, the whole locomotive had to be reined in — the front set wasn’t carrying the same heavy load the rear set was carrying.
The M1 (and M1a) was extremely successful.
But mainly transporting fast freight.
72-inch drivers are too big for drag freight.
The M1 was Pennsy’s first application of a combustion-chamber ahead of the firebox grate. It promoted greater burning of the coal.
The M1a modified and improved the M1, particularly the steam-delivery pipes to the cylinders. On the M1a those pipes were inside a cast cylinder-saddle, instead of outside as they had been on previous Pennsy steam-locomotives, including the M1.
1965 Impala Super-Sport. (Photo by David Newhardt.)
―The November 2010 entry of my Motorbooks Musclecars calendar is laughable.
It’s a 1965 Impala SS.
Ho-hum!
The Super-Sport (“SS”) concept is laudable, but a full-size ’65 Chevy with a 327 Small-Block is hardly a musclecar. (The car’s a 327.)
Anyone driving a G-T-O threatened by such a car would laugh.
The 327 Small-Block is a great engine, but the car is a bloated grocery-getter. Too big and heavy for a 327.
The car needs a Big-Block, which weren’t yet available.
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| She’s real fine, my 409. |
Boring a 348 was asking for trouble.
Each 409 block-casting had to be checked for casting porosity, leakage through the cylinder-walls.
No matter, the 409 was a bolt-of-lightning when released into the 1961 model-year. —I think it was March of ’61.
It was the first time a manufacturer had taken a hot-rodded engine across the 400 cubic-inch barrier. Mercury had a 430, but it wasn’t a hot-rodded engine — that is, it was a slug, just a big engine to move a big car.
1965 is also the year I lost interest.
I know every Chevrolet from 1937 through 1964, with the exception of the ’47 and ’48, which are almost identical, and ’49 and ’50, which are slightly different in their grills, and I don’t remember how.
By 1965, Chevrolet was no longer the fabulous little cars the ’55, ’56 and ’57 were.
They had grown so big and heavy the Small-Block was overwhelmed. They needed that big 348 cubic-inch truck-engine to keep up.
The ’61 and ’62 Chevys are fairly interesting; spare, but still big and heavy.
The 1961 model-year was also the year the 409 was introduced, extremely interesting.
The 409 was a siren-song; I remember a couple kids from high-school getting them.
One traded a hot-rodded ’57; another a Corvette. (Corvettes of that time didn’t have the truck-motor.)
When I first began attending drag-races at Cecil County Drag-O-Way, in the summer of 1964, someone was racing a ’61 409 Chevy business-coupe; mighta been Bill “Grumpy” Jenkins.
The car was unbeatable; it always won.
And by then Dodge was fielding drag-cars, wheelbase altered to throw more weight on the slicks.
But it took a lot to beat “Grumpy.”
The following year he graduated to a Plymouth Hemi, and was unbeatable in that.
The altered wheelbase Dodges were also catching up.
Grumpy’s Hemi might have had an altered wheelbase too; I forget.
Super-Stock drag-racing was getting out-of-hand.
Altered wheelbase worked fine for drag-racing, but little else.
Not only that, it looked ridiculous.
We also started getting “Funny-Cars.”
Essentially rail-dragsters sheathed in fiberglass bodies made to look like stock cars.
But only if you could accept wildly modified proportions, and decal headlights.
I.e. they were hardly stock.
The 409 Chevy was a car available at a dealer.
You weren’t building it from scratch.
It was a stock sedan with a giant hot-rodded motor.
A Chevrolet.
Sadly, the 409 became moribund.
It was replaced by Chevrolet’s “Big-Block” motor, first at 396 cubic-inches in the 1966 model-year.
It was essentially the “porcupine” motor introduced at the 1965 Daytona 500.
“Porcupine” because it had cylinder-heads with splayed ball-stud rockers — the valve-stems splayed at all angles, like a porcupine.
They allowed a combustion-chamber that was almost a Hemi; it could breathe extremely well at high speed.
The Big-Block was also a larger casting than the 348.
It had wider bore-centers, so could be enlarged without encountering porosity problems.
The Big-Block was eventually enlarged to 454 cubic-inches, and even larger versions are available now for self-installation.
’65 Chevys are forgettable.
And an SS with a 327 is nice, but hardly a musclecar.
Labels: Monthly Calendar Report
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