Monthly Calendar Report for May, 2012

Camp-train at Six-Targets. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)

—The May 2012 entry of my own calendar is at one of my favorite locations on Allegheny Crossing, McFarland’s Curve, a location I also call “Six-Targets.”
That’s because the old Pennsy signal-bridge has six target-signals on it.
At right are the two mainline tracks (Tracks One and Two), and the work-train is on a controlled siding (Track Three).
Trains can be either way, which is why the signal-bridge has six signals.
I’ve always liked this location — we’re looking south (railroad west).
The signal-bridge renders a frame, and silhouettes the sky.
It’s north (railroad east) of Altoona, and almost level. We’re out of the Alleghenies.

Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.

The trash-train approaches McFarland’s.

Looking east is also good. Trains approach through a long S-curve.
But I’ve yet to have success there. It needs a strong telephoto, perhaps.
“Controlled” means the siding is signaled. It also goes a long way.
Slow eastbound trains diverge to the siding so faster eastbounds can pass. —And still allow westbounds.
My perception is there is a lot of eastbound traffic, particularly coal.
Coal tends to move slower than van-trains and stackers.
Coal-trains westbound are usually empty.
You have to know how to get to McFarland’s Curve.
The street is named in my Google-maps, but it’s more a dirt-track.
But I finally found it myself, and know how to get there.
Off I-99 at the Grazierville exit, a short distance south on the old 220, then turn right (west) just past DeGol Lumber. The dirt-track is along the southern border of the lumber company.
Up the narrow rocky dirt-track, more a road for farm-tractors.
Then there it is, one of the prettiest and most rewarding photo-locations I know.
McFarland’s Curve with its six targets, perhaps my favorite photo-location on Allegheny Crossing (except it’s not in the Alleghenies).
3026 is a GP40-2, pulling a short work-train of silver camp-cars; old boxcars outfitted with bunks and facilities for track-workers.
I got right up close to the controlled-siding to take this picture, thinking the approaching train was eastbound on the middle track.
“Get back, Bob,” cried Phil. “It’s on the controlled-siding.”
(“Phil” is Phil Faudi [“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”], the guy I chase trains with at Allegheny Crossing.)
A stacker is westbound on Track Two.




B-24 Liberator. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)

—The May 2012 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is perhaps the best photograph in the calendar, a picture that makes this old turkey look good.
It’s the B-24 Liberator heavy-bomber.
About that time Consolidated Vultee and Boeing were competing to field the Army Air Corps’ heavy-bomber.
The B-24 is Consolidated Vultee’s entry. (Consolidated Vultee later became Convair.)
Boeing’s entry was the B-17 Flying Fortress, although it was earlier than the B-24.
Both the B-17 and the B-24 demonstrate tilting toward heavy defensive armament, machine-guns galore. The B-17 was nicknamed “the Flying Fortress” by a press-guy.
The B-24 had a machine-gun turret in its nose. The first B-17s didn’t, but machine-guns were soon added, specifically a chin-turret.
Enemy fighter-planes could attack from the front, and were successful. Defense was needed at the front.
Only two B-24s are still flying.
As opposed to 13 B-17s. (I thought there were more!)
It takes a lot to keep up one of these old turkeys flying.
There are four ancient motors to maintain.
Motor-maintenance is extremely costly.




BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM! (Photo by Mike Usenia)

—The May 2012 entry of my AII-Pennsy color calendar is not that good.
It suffers from the color photography available at that time, 1956.
It’s not as sharp as my Norfolk Southern Employees’ Photography-Contest calendar, or my other calendars.
Recent color photography is much better.
It’s digital, and has much more latitude in shadows.
This calendar-picture is probably slide-film, and the shadows are almost completely black.
Now you can get away with shooting into your light-source, for example the sun.
In 1956 shoot a baseball-player wearing a baseball cap, and his eyes were lost in shadow. You had to fill with flash.
Nowadays the eyes would render, and everything would be razor-sharp.
I’ve shot train photographs I wouldn’t have tried years ago, shots with heavy shadow and backlighting.
I’m usually always pleasantly surprised — just shoot and see what happens.
It’s the Mt. Carmel ore-train.
The Mt. Carmel ore-train was one of the final Pennsy assignments for the I1 Decapod (2-10-0).
A trainload of iron-ore would be delivered to Northumberland, PA for delivery up Pennsy’s Mt. Carmel branch to an interchange in Mt. Carmel with Lehigh Valley railroad.
The train was extraordinarily heavy, and the Mt. Carmel branch was essentially uphill.
Two massive I1 Decapods would be coupled in front, and two more would be cut in ahead of the caboose to help push the heavy train up the grade.
The Decs couldn’t push the caboose. They’d probably derail it, or probably break something.
The Dec was Pennsy’s drag-engine. It was developed about 1916.
It was so massive for back then, crews called ‘em “hippos.”
The boiler was gigantic, but the fire-grate was only 70 square feet, which is still pretty large.
You had to be careful, lest a Decapod run out of steam.
The Decs were originally hand-fired; Pennsy’s loathing of appliances. For example, the coal-stoker.
But the Dec had such an appetite, even two firemen couldn’t keep up.
The Dec was the first Pennsy engine with a coal-stoker.
The Dec was not SuperPower, a special design of steam-locomotive to enhance boiler-capacity. A SuperPower engine had a gigantic boiler and a firebox grate of a 100 square feet or more.
It could maintain steam at high speed, where an unSuperPower engine might run out.
Ten driving-wheels also presented a problem.
Heavy side-rod assemblies were needed to crank all those drivers, and they couldn’t be well-balanced.
The driving-wheels of a drag engine had to be small, only 62 inches diameter on a Pennsy Decapod. (I’ve seen down to 55 inches.)
Smallish drivers didn’t allow much counterweighting to offset that heavy rod assembly.
A Dec was good to about 50 mph, and that was if you could stand it.
There was heavy up-and-down hammering as the drivers rotated.
But the Mt. Carmel ore-train was probably getting 25 mph tops.
Diesels might have been better, but the Mt. Carmel ore-train was perfect for Decs.




1970 American Motors AMX (so-called). (Peter Harholdt©.)

—It looks like the photographer of my Motorbooks Musclecars calendar, Peter Harholdt, likes to do side-elevations.
Every entry so far has been a side-elevation except the first, a ’64 Pontiac G-T-O, prettiest of the musclecars.
That was slightly three-quarter, including the front.
Everything since has been side-elevation.
The May entry is side-elevation, a 1970 American Motors Javelin AMX, so-identified.
I not sure that’s right. I don’t see “AMX” badges on it.
And it ain’t the AMX I know, a cobbled two-seater based on a shortened Javelin platform.
John Z. DeLorean (“dee-LORE-eee-in”), head-honcho of Chevrolet years ago, wanted to do that. Shorten a Camaro into a two-seater, and call it a Corvette.
Thankfully he failed. The Corvette continues as the great Chevrolet offering it always was, a standalone two-seater design with little connection to the Chevrolet brand except the storied SmallBlock V8.
So I think what’s pictured is a Javelin, although American Motors may have eventually offered the four-seater as an “AMX” model.
I forget. That’s all years ago.
This car has the 390 cubic-inch motor, which is a lotta motor for a Javelin.
Which is a ponycar, American Motors’ Mustang competitor.
The car is done up in red-white-and-blue paint, which I think looks great.
But I don’t think it’s an AMX, although it could be.
Whatever, it doesn’t look like the two-seater.

The Penske/Donohue Javelin.

Race-driver Mark Donohue (“don-uh-hew”), with entrant Roger Penske (“penn-ski”) began racing Javelins in the SCCA (Sports Car Club of America) Trans-Am series in 1971.
I was appalled when they did that; they had come from Camaros.
But there was probably more money in it.
The Penske/Donohue Javelin was American Motors’ Trans-Am entry.
But did it sell any cars? People were more partial to the Camaro and Mustang.
I remember watching Peter Revson race an ARA Javelin at St. Jovite (“sahn-joe-VEET;” as in “sonogram”) racetrack in the Laurentien mountains near Montreal.
That was 1970, before Penske/Donohue.
He had it wound to the moon!
Every lap before entering a hairpin turn.
St. Jovite was a day-trip, but one of the nicest road-racing venues I ever went to.



Tulips for May. (Photo by Mark Shull.)

—What we have here for the May 2012 entry of my Norfolk Southern Employees' Photography-Contest calendar is another photograph by Mark Shull, taken at the same location, probably on the same day, as a similar photograph that appeared as the April entry of my 2011 Norfolk Southern Employees' Photography-Contest calendar.

Photo by Mark Shull.

The judges for the Norfolk Southern Employees' Photography-Contest calendar seem to be suckers for flowers in a picture, especially in Spring.
Pretty red tulips adorn the foreground.
And the photographer managed to get everything in focus, train and tulips.
He’s probably using a tiny lens-aperture, a focal-length of perhaps F16 or F32.
Increasing the focal-length — decreasing the aperture opening — gets more in focus.
My father’s old Kodak Hawkeye, my first camera, went down to F64. That’s almost a pinhole.
Pinholes focus just about everything, but don’t let in much light.
The sky in the picture is extraordinary, just as it was in the previous picture.
Strident blue, with not a cloud in sight.
The train is northbound through Landis, NC. Photographer Stull reports he likes Landis.
The train is Atlanta to Pennsylvania.
The train my be traveling the Crescent Corridor, a route that parallels Interstate-81 south out of PA.
It goes all the way to Louisiana.
It’s an old route, previously rudimentary, improved to take trucks off Interstate-81.
The train in intermodal; I see trailer-on-flatcar.
I see three General-Electric Dash-9s, a lot of power.
Intermodal is priority; it has to be kept moving.
The train may even be UPS trailers, very high priority.



A Studebaker motor.

—The May 2012 entry of my Oxman Hotrod Calendar is a hot-rodded 1932 Ford two-door sedan (Tudor), chopped and channeled.
“Chopped” means sections have been cut out of the vertical side-window pillars so the top can be lowered. —In this case, four inches.
“Channeled” means channels have been fabricated into the body so it can sit lower on the frame-rails. —In this case six inches.
The car also has a four-inch dropped ’34 Ford front beam-axle, to lower the car in front.
“Dropped” means the wheel-ends have been re-bent upward to lower the mounting-point an the car-frame front.
The car has a rare 1955 Studebaker V8, bored to 299 cubic-inches displacement. Instead of the ubiquitous SmallBlock Chevy V8, the love of hot-rodders everywhere.
Overhead-valve V8 motors were very much the coming thing in the early ‘50s.
So even lowly Studebaker developed one.
But I get the impression the car was originally hot-rodded with a Studebaker V8. And the most recent owner decided to stick with it because of its rarity.
The motor is souped up.
Boring it to a larger displacement is part of souping up. Although boring is often part of an engine-overhaul. It cuts away worn cylinder-walls.
The motor also has two backdraft Stromberg two-barrel carburetors on an Edelbrock (“ed-ll-BROCK;” as in “Ed”) manifold.
Hotrod parts.
That’s not extreme. At least it’s driveable. The car is not a trailer-queen.
The car uses a ’90 Camaro Borg-Warner five-speed manual transmission, twisting a ’57 Chevy PosiTraction rear-axle with 4.11 gears.
PosiTraction (“Posi”) is a special design to negate rear wheel-spin. A typical differential applies power to a spinning wheel. PosiTraction negates that. It clutches in the non-spinning wheel, yet is free enough the allow the differential to work around corners.
My old Vega had “Posi,” and was impressive in snow. And that was despite being only rear-wheel-drive. My current cars are All-Wheel-Drive.
4.11 is fairly low. The average rear-axle ratio is in the threes, some even down to 2.73 and lower.
A higher axle-ratio (numerically) renders more dig at the dragstrip. Lower ratios improve economy. The engine revs at a lower rate.
Extremely low rear-axle ratios are into the fives. The idea is to maximize dragstrip acceleration. Rear-axle gearing has to be matched through trial-and-error. The idea is to match engine power-output to not over-rev the quarter-mile, yet maximize dig.
A car geared that low might pop a wheelie, lifting its front-wheels clear off the pavement.
Wheelying a stock sedan with a heavy front-end is impressive. It indicates mind-bending power.
The current owner, Diana Branch, bracket-races this car in the Antique Nationals, a drag-racing series for antique hotrods.
She has won trophies, including top in class in 2008.
Pretty good for a Studebaker motor.



The engineer of two PRSL Baldwin BS-15m road-switchers picks up orders hooped by the new Glassboro towerman.

The May 2012 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar is the new towerman at the station in Glassboro, NJ, handing up train-orders to the Camden-to-Millville freight on PRSL.
“PRSL” (Pennsylvania-Reading [‘RED-ing,’ not ‘READ-ing’] Seashore Lines) is an amalgamation of affiliated 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.
The freight is hauled by two Baldwin BS-15m road-switchers, the locomotives PRSL dieselized with.
The Baldwins are actually PRSL engines. PRSL leased many locomotives from its participants, Pennsy and Reading, although it had a few of its own.
What I remember is ex-Pennsy engines lettered “Pennsylvania-Reading Seashore Lines.”
I remember being very sad when the Baldwins first showed up. PRSL had been a steam-locomotive holdout.
The last steam-locomotive I saw in revenue service was ex-Pennsy, perhaps even Pennsy. It was a Mikado (2-8-2) or Consolidation (2-8-0).
PRSL used Consols for local freight. I have a hard time imagining it was a Mikado, except that’s what I counted, 2-8-2, from high above in a Piper Tri-Pacer flying out of tiny Echelon Airport, now closed.
Echelon became a mall, and that too failed. —Echelon had the Piper franchise (like we were gonna buy a plane).
That was late 1956. Snow was on the ground.
I also remember seeing a rusty Pennsy K4 Pacific (4-6-2) on a racetrack excursion at Garden State Park, a horse racetrack nearby where we lived in south Jersey.
It was the last K4 I ever saw in regular revenue service, and I almost got in trouble.
I almost missed supper.
The K4 fired up and left after the final race, around 4:30 p.m.
I was supposed to be home at 5p.m., but NO WAY was this kid gonna miss this!
I thought it might be my final K4, and it was.
I was 12.
By then the BS-15s were triumphant.
They were even being used in seashore passenger-service in summer, although I once saw tuscan-red (“tuss-kin;” not Tucson, Ariz.) Pennsy E-units on the bypass to Philadelphia.
It was a sight. Glitzy varnish on the humble PRSL.
Once in a while I’d see actual Pennsy diesels on PRSL, lettered “Pennsylvania Railroad.”
Pennsy owned 67 percent of PRSL, Reading 33 percent.
But more often it was these Baldwins, lettered “Pennsylvania-Reading Seashore Lines.”
I wonder if that old line to Millville still exists?
It’s part of West Jersey & Seashore, acquired by Pennsy in 1875.
It went to Atlantic City in a roundabout way, but was soon abandoned to Atlantic City.
The Millville line was a branch.
WJ&S’s line to Atlantic City was Pennsy’s first electrification, third-rail.
That lasted until after WWII, when commuter-coaches made of wood were outlawed.
Pennsy also acquired Camden & Atlantic, a more direct route, via Haddonfield (where I first watched trains), to Atlantic City built earlier.
Philadelphia & Atlantic City Railway was built to compete with Camden & Atlantic.
It was three-foot six-inch narrow-gauge as built.
P&AC was taken over by Reading, rebuilt to standard gauge, and Reading and Pennsy competed to attain Atlantic City at ever-increasing speeds.
The two railroads were side-by-side through the Jersey Pine-Barrens, and trains were going over 100 mph.
West Jersey & Seashore got the time from West Haddonfield to Atlantic City, 53 miles, down to 39 minutes.
That’s a lotta throttle-to-the-roof!
Both railroads were using high-drivered Atlantics (4-4-2); gigantic drivers 84 inches in diameter. (The K4 was 80-inch.)
But Camden & Atlantic wasn’t the freight traffic-generator the West Jersey & Seashore lines were; for example, a freight-train to Millville.
The state of New Jersey built an extensive highway system that put railroad freight-traffic out of business.
Far as I know, Atlantic City has a coal-fired electric generating station nearby.
It still receives its coal by railroad.