Monthly Calendar-Report for August 2013
I probably saw this locomotive. (Photo by Robert L. Long©.)
The August 2013 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar is important, enough to make it my number-one entry.
It’s not very dramatic, but I probably saw this locomotive.
It’s where my railfanning began, in Haddonfield, NJ (“hah-din-FIELD”).
Haddonfield is an old Revolutionary town, just south of Erlton, NJ where I grew up (“EARL-tin”). “Erlton” is the small suburb of Philadelphia in south-Jersey where I lived until I was 13. Erlton was founded in the ‘30s, named after its developer, whose name was Earl.
The Camden & Atlantic Railroad, built about 1850, went through Haddonfield.
You can blame Atlantic City on the Camden & Atlantic.
Camden & Atlantic was so successful it prompted competition, Atlantic City Railroad.
Both Camden & Atlantic and Atlantic City Railroad depended on ferry-service from Philadelphia.
Philadelphians would ferry across the Delaware River to Camden, and then take the trains to Atlantic City.
Atlantic City Railroad was parallel to Camden & Atlantic to the south. In west Jersey it went through Haddon Heights, perhaps three miles south of Haddonfield.
But in the Jersey pine-barrens approaching Atlantic City, Atlantic City Railroad was within site of Camden & Atlantic.
Pennsy and Reading (“REDD-ing;” not “REED-ing”) merged the two railroads, Pennsy Camden & Atlantic and Reading Atlantic City Railroad.
Races developed to see who could get to Atlantic City fastest.
High-drivered 4-4-2s were developed to get up over 100 mph.
The lines through the pine-barrens were straight and fast.
“High-drivered” means 84-inches wheel diameter. 84 inches is huge, although I think I’ve heard of 86-inch diameter.
Average driver diameter on steam locomotives might be 70 inches (almost six feet). Although Pennsy passenger-locomotives gravitated toward 80 inches.
Many 4-8-4 locomotives were built in the ‘30s with 80-inch drivers.
Freight locomotives were usually 69 inches or less.
My railfanning began in 1946. The photograph is 1956, but by 1946 the old Camden & Atlantic (and Atlantic City Railroad) were Pennsylvania-Reading Seashore Lines (PRSL).
“Pennsylvania-Reading Seashore Lines” was 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 south-Jersey seashore from Philadelphia.
Other branches had been built to serve other south-Jersey seashore resorts. Often both railroads served a seashore resort and shared little traffic.
So the old Camden & Atlantic line through Haddonfield was PRSL. Atlantic City Railroad was abandoned and torn up through the pine-barrens. Many of the old Pennsy lines south of Atlantic City were abandoned in favor of Reading lines.
Where it all began. (Photo by Robert L. Long©.)
The calendar-picture is not actually where I began my railfanning.
That’s down across from the water-tower, visible on the background of the calendar-picture.
That water-tower is not in my “Where it all began” picture, but its standpipe is.
Reportedly the train in the calendar-picture had just stopped for water.
But the calendar-picture is from the same street we traveled, my father-and-I on his balloon-tire Columbia bicycle, me at age-2 in an orange-crate basket up front.
The street dead-ended out along the railroad just east of Haddonfield station.
We’d hang out at the dead-end and wait for trains.
Free entertainment, which my father loved, and I loved watching trains.
Often the steam-locomotives stopped to take on water from the standpipe, right across from me.
The trains would whistle for the road-crossings in Haddonfield. My father claimed they were whistling for me. I’d wave.
More-than-likely the reason I was attracted to railroads was PRSL was still using steam.
Gigantic diesel-locomotives are impressive, but there’s nothing like steam.
By 1956 about the only trains PRSL was using steam on were racetrack excursions.
The train pictured is returning from Atlantic City Racetrack, a horse-racing venue.
The last steam-locomotive I ever saw in revenue service was a racetrack excursion from Garden State Park in 1956. Garden State Park was a large horse-racing venue not far from where I lived,
The racetrack was along Pennsy’s Delair-bridge Philadelphia bypass. Pennsy built that bypass to run trains direct to the Jersey seashore without ferries across the Delaware — also to get freight to-and-from Camden off ferry-service.
The steam-locomotive was a rusty Pennsy K-4 Pacific (4-6-2; perhaps this locomotive).
I was late for supper, a cardinal sin, but it was indeed the last steam-locomotive I ever saw in revenue service.
I notice this K-4, #5497, a 1928 Juniata product (“june-eee-AT-uh”) still has the gorgeous horizontally slatted pilot.
Most K-4s were converted to a heavy cast-steel pilot that wasn’t as attractive.
Whistling death.(Photo by Philip Makanna©.)
—The August 2013 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is a Chance-Vought F4U Corsair fighter-plane.
The Corsair is my second-most favorite airplane; my favorite being the P-51 Mustang.
The Corsair lacks the grace of a P-51. It’s crude. A powerful engine tows it around; it seems like all the plane is is a platform for that engine.
The rear stabilizers of a P-51 look great. Those of a Corsair look crude.
Then there are those gull-wings. Designers were afraid there wasn’t enough clearance for that giant 14-foot propeller.
So the wings were gull-winged to avoid lengthening the landing-gear. All to get the fuselage and its engine higher.
It looks strange, but that gull-wing easily identifies it as a Corsair.
As an aircraft-carrier based fighter-plane, the Corsair solved one of the problems of the Grumman Wildcat. Namely that its landing gear was not wide enough. A Wildcat could go ass-over-teakettle landing on a carrier-deck. Touchdown on a carrier-deck is hard.
The Corsair widened the landing-gear. A Corsair was less likely to tip.
Grumman also widened its landing-gear. The Hellcat follows the Wildcat.
But the ‘Cats don’t look as crude as a Corsair.
The Corsair appears to be all-engine.
The Corsair was a successful carrier-based fighter-plane.
Japanese pilots used to call it “Whistling-death” because of the sound it made.
My attraction to Corsairs goes back to an encounter in 1951. My Cub-Scout troop visited Willow-Grove Naval Air Station outside Philadelphia.
A fighter-jock strode out and mounted his Corsair.
Giant sheets of yellow flame washed along the fuselage as he fired up the Corsair’s motor.
“Won’t it catch fire?” I asked worriedly.
Our guide laughed.
Soon the Corsair was roaring overhead, doing practice tailhook landings on the runway.
They simulate carrier-landings. An arresting-cable is stretched across the runway to snag a plane as it lands.
Just like an aircraft-carrier, except the runway isn’t bobbing like a ship.
Early Corsairs had a three-bladed propeller.
Most of those flying do (28 are still air-worthy).
But a few remain with the four-bladed propeller.
My guess is they have a more powerful engine that can crank a four-bladed propeller.
When I see a Corsair with a four-bladed propeller I’m thrilled.
Trash-train. (Photo by BobbaLew with Phil Faudi.)
—The August 2013 entry of my own calendar is train 64J, the eastbound trash-train, descending Track One from The Hill, coming into Altoona.
This picture is taken from the 17th Street overpass, hard by venerable Alto Tower, now closed.
Dispatching through Altoona is now handled offsite in Pittsburgh.
The amount of traffic through Altoona isn’t what it was 40 years ago, but with this change Altoona has become a bottleneck.
Pittsburgh dispatching isn’t the experience Alto Tower was.
Trains often have to stop to attach or detach helpers for The Hill.
The challenge is to keep everything fluid. Alto could do it; they were experienced.
Pennsy’s position-light signals are also being replaced.
A giant signal-bridge with its many target-signals that once spanned these tracks at Alto is gone, replaced by what you see.
It’s new Norfolk Southern signaling.
Tracks have also been realigned through Altoona.
Approaching Altoona from the east are only Tracks Two (westbound) and One (eastbound).
In Altoona Two becomes Three. It used to be Three switched off of Two.
No longer; no longer a switch to maintain.
A lot of traffic was being switched to Three to climb The Hill, so we might as well dispense with the switch.
Another giant signal-bridge spanned the tracks east of the overpass for westbounds. That is gone too.
It’s interesting so many signals are visible in this picture. I see five.
Track One is also signaled westbound. Currently it’s eastbound only, but will be made both ways in the future.
Track Three is also out-of-service beyond this point. One can see the crossover is lined to get westbounds on Three over to Two.
Track Three is also signaled “stop,” but the diverge (below) is signaled “clear.”
It’s called the “trash-train” because it carries trash, supposed construction-debris in purple containers on flatcars, four containers per flatcar.
But I’ve smelled garbage. You hold your nose as this train passes.
Trash is trained out west for landfilling. 64J is the trash-train returning empty.
This train is usually light enough to not need assistance, even loaded.
“Here come da Judge!” (Photo by Peter Harholdt©.)
—The August 2013 entry in my Motorbooks Musclecar calendar is a 1970 G-T-O Stage-IV Ram-air “Judge” convertible.
It’s a nice photograph, one of photographer Harholdt’s standard side-elevations.
And the 1970 G-T-O, with its plastic Endura front-bumper, is a gorgeous car.
But by 1970 The G-T-O Pontiac was a caricature of its former self.
All the manufacturers were cashing in on the musclecar concept pioneered by Pontiac with its 1964 G-T-O, namely a hot-rodded version of a full-size car’s motor in a smaller intermediate sedan.
At first the G-T-O was a Tempest option.
But soon the G-T-O was its own model.
Al the other manufacturers started marketing musclecars, Chevelle with an SS396, Oldsmobile with its 4-4-2, Chrysler with various versions of its Plymouth and Dodge intermediates, even staid Buick.
And everyone was trying to one-up the others. Soon gigantic hot-rodded motors were fielded, well over 400 cubic-inches. Chevrolet raised its “Big-Block” to 454 cubic-inches, and Buick, Oldsmobile and Pontiac all went to 455 cubic-inches.
Chrysler went to 440 cubic-inches, and Ford and Mercury maxxed out at 427-428-429 cubic-inches.
The “Judge” was visually laughable, even though very serious. “G-T-O” wasn’t enough. We gotta give it a cutesy name like “RoadRunner.” Call it “da Judge;” here come da judge.
But the Judge is only 400 cubic-inches. Hot-rodding made it immensely powerful.
Of interest was its Ram-air air-intake.
Pontiac took advantage of a high air-pressure area above the hood to snorkel that high-pressure through an opening in the hood direct to the carburetor.
The carburetor was also getting cooler outside air, denser than the hot air under the hood.
The cylinder-heads also had giant passageways, so-called “Ram-air” heads.
Whatever, fear-and-trembling if a Judge rolled up beside you at a traffic-light.
Trailer-for-you, baby. You gonna get spanked!
A ’64 G-T-O. (Photo by Peter Harholdt©.)
But I still think the best-looking G-T-O was the first, the ’64 pictured above.
By 1970 the G-T-O was backwater. Pontiac needed to market “The Judge.”
Scallops over the tires, a wing out back, and the tachometer outside atop the hood — ridiculous!
I bet serious drag-racers put a tach inside where they could see it to shift.
The other night, while walking my dog back from the park up the street, a musclecar rumbled by on the highway in the distance — looked like a ’70 or ’71 Chevelle SS.
I could tell by the induction-racket. Musclecars make a lot of induction-noise due to the prodigious amount of intake-air they ingest.
“That thing is seriously dated,” I thought to myself.
Cars nowadays look like bars of soap. The idea is to enhance aerodynamics, to make the car slipperier to the air, and thereby increase fuel-economy.
The Chevelle had a longish nose, and acres of sheet-metal out back encasing a longish trunk.
Stuff you never see nowadays.
A car’s trunk is often integrated into the top. It all slopes back to enhance aerodynamics.
But back then, a Chevelle did not have that aero.
On top of that, today’s cars are taller. The intent is to allow packaging of a driver sitting erect.
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| A 1971 454-Chevelle SS. (Not my brother’s car, but similar. [Same color.]) (Photo by Bobbalew.) |
Also, SUVs didn’t exist back then.
I know the 454-Chevelle SS is very collectible. My brother-in-Boston has one.
It’s impressive, but dated.
Years ago I auditioned a ’55 Chevrolet BelAir coupe I was considering buying.
No sale! What a turkey that thing was, an antique. I preferred the car I came in: a 1989 Honda Civic All-Wheel-Drive stationwagon. —And all through high-school and college what I wanted was a ’55 Chevy BelAir coupe.
A Norfolk Southern stacker of J.B. Hunt domestic containers approaches Spencer, NC. (Photo by Mark Shull.)
—The August 2013 entry in my Norfolk Southern Employees’ Photography-Contest calendar, is not inspiring.
It reminds of some of the photographs I’ve taken with Phil Faudi (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”).
Perfectly lit, face-on lighting to the front of the locomotive, but not that inspiring to me.
And I’ve gotten enough smashing photographs with Phil, enough to make my own calendar for the past three years.
Photographer Shull explains the reason for the photograph is the house in the picture at right.
It’s owned by an elderly gentleman who mows the grass across the street next to the railroad right-of-way for railfans.
He is also tolerant of railfans, who can be obnoxious and pushy at times.
I guess that gentleman is not a railfan. I know I couldn’t live in a house like that. I’d be up all night!
Years ago I stayed in a motel within sight of the old Chessie mainline in St. Albans, WV.
The line was a grade, and all night long coal-drags hammered up it. You could hear them coming — they’d wake me up.
They were doing about five mph; the sound was deafening, diesel-locomotives in Run-8. From start to finish was 20-25 minutes, assaulting the heavens the whole time.
I got little sleep. And I never saw anything; the tracks were behind trees across the street along the highway.
Before that, when we lived in Rochester, I noticed a house for sale. Its backyard paralleled the old New York Central mainline into Rochester. By then the line was Penn-Central.
Entering Rochester from the east the railroad climbs a slight grade.
At that time we lived about a mile from the grade, but we could hear westbounds climbing it.
I thought about buying the house, but I decided against it.
I knew I’d be up all night watching trains, or they would wake me climbing that grade.
My compulsion to watch trains has degraded with age, or because of my stroke, or after my wife’s death.
When I go to Altoona I stay at a bed-and-breakfast hard by the old Pennsy main. Trains rumble by all night and slightly shake the building, which is brick.
Eastbounds blow their horn before entering a nearby tunnel.
I pay little attention. Rarely do I run outside to see the train. Rarely do I open the venetian-blinds.
Blowing the horn might wake me up, but I’m sure trains rumble by and I never know it.
But there’s no way I could live in the house in Shull’s photograph. Passing trains would be a distraction.
I’ve been asked about moving to the Altoona area, to be near my favorite railroad-line, Norfolk Southern’s ex-Pennsy Allegheny Crossing.
I’ve thought about it, but for the moment I pass.
You see a lot of J.B. Hunt domestic containers on stack-trains. They probably contain product for WalMart*. (Domestic containers run up to 53 feet long, which is too big for container-ships. Ship-containers are 40 feet.)
The calendar-cover. (Photo by Fred Kern.)— The August 2013 entry of my All-Pennsy color calendar is the photograph they used as a cover.
The only thing Pennsy about it is that GG-1 at right, and it’s the electrified Pennsy line to New York City.
The other train is being hauled by a Reading steam-engine, #216, a G3 Pacific (4-6-2).
The GG-1 is waiting with its train in North Philadelphia station.
The calendar makes what I consider a mistake. It says the Reading steamer is pulling a commuter-train.
I don’t think so.
Reading commuter-cars are dark grey or olive-green or blue.
The coaches are tuscan-red (“TUSS-kin;” not Tucson, Ariz.), the color of Pennsy passenger equipment, and coaches of Pennsylvania-Reading Seashore Lines.
I’d say the Reading steamer is pulling a PRSL seashore train, and will diverge from the Pennsy main at Shore Junction in north Philadelphia. From there it will cross the Delaware River over Delair Bridge, and then head on Pennsy and PRSL in south Jersey for the Wildwood, Cape May, and Ocean City seashore resorts.
PRSL often used Pennsy coaches, yet ran Reading engines to Wildwood, etc, on old Reading lines. (Competing Pennsy lines had been abandoned with the founding of PRSL in 1933.)
Atlantic City trains usually had Pennsy engines, K-4 Pacifics (4-6-2).
My railfanning began with PRSL (see above first entry).
Pennsy K-4s had that gorgeous red keystone number-plate, and were much prettier than Reading’s steamers.
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| (This is actually a full-size plastic casting.) (Photo by Bobbalew.) |
The G3 was a modern engine, designed for express passenger service to New York City on the Crusader.
I remember before PRSL’s Budd RDCs, the Camden-Haddonfield shuttle service (PRSL trains headed north west of Haddonfield over Pennsy’s line for Delair Bridge and Philadelphia), was performed by a Reading G3 with one or two Reading commuter coaches.
That’s shuffling. A G3 could boom-and-zoom. That’s a G3 misapplied.
The Camden-Haddonfield shuttle could have been done with an elderly teakettle, which the G3 wasn’t.
I saw plenty of Reading steam-engines on PRSL. They always turned me off. Pennsy’s engines were prettier.
That gorgeous red number-plate was probably Raymond Loewy.
Pennsy was always putting its headlight at the top of the smokebox front, which looked great.
Everyone else, including Reading, had it in the center.
Beetlebomb.
—The August 2013 entry of my Oxman Hotrod Calendar is a 1940 Ford two-door sedan turned into a hotrod.
It has a mildly-built 327 cubic-inch SmallBlock Chevrolet V8. The SmallBlock is probably the most popular hotrod engine.
It also has rack-and-pinion steering and front disc brakes.
Desirable stuff, but to my mind the ’39-’40 Ford sedans are turkeys; not as bad as the late-‘40s Fords, but a shame.
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| A ’39 Ford five-window coupe. |
The two-door sedan was the car you souped up if you couldn’t get a coupe.
I remember such a car when I was growing up in the early ‘50s.
An Italian family lived nearby, and all three young sons were into hot-rodding.
The oldest, employed as a soda-jerk at the local soda-fountain, had a purple customized 1947 Mercury convertible with a white Carson top with a tiny rear window. A make-out car.
The serious car was owned by son number-two. It was a black 1940 Ford coupe up on blocks awaiting an Oldsmobile Rocket V8 engine.
Sons two and three, ages 20 and 18, jointly owned the two-door sedan.
The only hot-rodding done was to paint it flat-black and monkey around with its Flat-head V8 motor, supposedly to make it faster.
All they did was race around in it, terrorizing the neighborhood. They were continually being stopped by the police.
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| Beetlebomb. (A late-‘40s Ford.) |
Every time I see a ’39-’40 Ford sedan I think of those guys trashing that car.
Flames on such a car are a joke. A ’39-’40 Ford sedan is to me a hotrod wannabee, as is the late ‘40s Ford.
Labels: Monthly Calendar Report
posted by BobbaLew at 6:21 PM
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