Tuesday, July 01, 2014

Monthly Calendar-Report for July 2014


Double at Lilly. (Photo by Jack Hughes.)

—The July 2014 entry of my own calendar is an eastbound mixed-freight on Track One passing a westbound stacker on Track Two.
The picture is by my brother Jack Hughes. It’s from the overpass in Lilly, PA, on the west slope of The Hill.
The eastbound is climbing, and the stacker descending.
The overpass in Lilly is a Faudi (“FOW-dee;” as in “wow”) location, Phil Faudi being the railfan extraordinaire I take pictures with in the Altoona, PA, area.
Those pictures are the basis of my calendar.
Lilly is the other side of Allegheny Mountain; Altoona is the east side, where the climb up Allegheny Mountain begins.
Altoona is a railroad-town — or was. It was very important to the Pennsylvania Railroad (“Pennsy”). Locomotives for Pennsy were built there, and it was Pennsy’s shop-town.
Pennsy, of course, no longer exists, although its railroad does.
It’s operated by Norfolk Southern, who got most of the ex-Pennsy lines with the Conrail breakup.
Pennsy had merged with arch-rival New York Central in 1968, and Penn-Central went bankrupt.
Conrail was founded as a way to continue northeast rail-service by including the many bankrupt northeast railroads, of which Penn-Central was largest.
Conrail was government at first, but eventually privatized. It was broken up and sold in 1999. CSX Transportation got most of the ex-New York Central lines, including the mainline across New York State.
Norfolk Southern got most of the ex-Pennsy lines.
Norfolk Southern is a 1982 merger of Norfolk & Western and Southern Railway.
Norfolk & Western was mainly coal, but Pennsy had a lot of coal-traffic. Norfolk Southern still ships a lot of PA coal.
I’ve been to this overpass many times. My brother Jack is reprising my Faudi photo-locations.
In fact, this overpass is where I saw my first “double,” pictured below:


“We’re gonna get a double, Bob.” (Photo by BobbaLew.)

“Double” means two trains at once. The line has three tracks. There have been triples, although I’ve never seen one — I don’t think.
Multiple trains on this line are so common it’s hard to remember.
My first double was my first “tour” with Phil — he calls ‘em “tours.”
We were on the Lilly overpass, and “We’re gonna get a double, Bob.”
Phil monitors a railroad-radio scanner. The engineers of trains call out the signal-aspects on the radio as they pass a signal.
A coal-extra was hammering slowly up Track One, and suddenly here came a stacker on Track Two.
Two front-ends! Never in all my years of railfanning had I seen two front-ends side-by-side, although I long ago saw three trains on Horseshoe Curve.
Phil was excited, and so was I. I snapped the picture above and included it in my first calendar — 2011.
My brother’s picture is also a double, and I think better than mine, since mine lacks balance. His is also better lit.
But Jack’s picture is not two front-ends.
Plus I say the stacker is descending because that’s what my brother told me.
Track two is signaled both ways. The stacker could be climbing.


Mustang! (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)

—Could there be a WWII warbirds calendar without a North-American P-51 Mustang?
The July 2014 entry of my Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar is a Mustang, the most venerated fighter-plane of WWII.
The Mustang is probably the most venerated propeller airplane, and that’s despite its age.
They’re raced. The Mustang is only 1,695 horsepower, not the 2,100 horsepower of last month’s Grumman Bearcat. But the Mustang is lighter.
Is there anything wrong with the Mustang? I’m sure there are compromises, but the only one I know of is taxiing. As a tail-dragger, its long nose obscured where you were going.
The Mustang had to be yawed side-to-side.
And of course compared to recent engine-technology, it Packard-Merlin V12 is ancient. As far as I know, it’s pushrod. Plus it’s not fuel-injected; it’s carbureted, so the motor can starve for gas in extreme G-loading.
Even the Messerschmitts were fuel-injected, but the Mustang was faster, and could out-maneuver a Messerschmitt. Hitler’s Messerschmitts were ‘30s technology; the Mustang is early ‘40s.
The Mustang is Britain’s fabulous Supermarine Spitfire with even more horsepower, and a laminar-flow wing.
The Mustang switched to the Rolls-Royce “Merlin” V12, but Packard (the car-manufacturer) got even more power out of it.
Apparently the Mustang pictured is not one of the later bubble-canopy Mustangs.
It’s a P-51C, and has the earlier non-bubble cockpit of a P-40 Warhawk.
But it’s the Merlin V12, rated at only 1,490 horsepower, same as the Spitfire.
I should let my WWII warbirds site weigh in:
“One of the most effective, famous and beautiful fighter aircraft of WWII, the P-51 was designed to fulfill a British requirement dated April 1940.
Because of the rapidly-mounting clouds of war in Europe, the U.K. asked North American Aircraft to design and build a new fighter in only 120 days.
The NA-73X prototype was produced in record time, but did not fly until October 26th, 1940.
The first RAF production models underwent rigorous testing and evaluation, and it was found the 1,100-horsepower Allison engine was well suited for low-altitude tactical reconnaissance, but the engine’s power decreased dramatically above an altitude of 12,000 feet, making it a poor choice for air-to-air combat or interception roles.
The first Merlin-engine versions appeared in 1943 with the P-51B and the P-51C. Both new versions had strengthened fuselages and four wing-mounted 12.7-millimeter machine guns.
The Merlin-powered Mustangs were exactly what the Allied bombers in Europe desperately needed, and they became famous for their long range and potent high-altitude escort capability.
The most significant variant, the P-51D, featured a 360-degree-view bubble canopy, a modified rear fuselage, and six 12.7-millimeter machine guns. 7,956 were built.
After the war, the P-51 remained in U.S. service with the Strategic Air Command until 1949, and with the Air National Guard and Reserves into the ‘50s. It became one of the first fighters to see combat in the Korean War.
In the last 40 years, surplus Mustangs have been modified and used extensively as civilian air racers, but the latest trend is for private owners to restore them to almost perfect, historically-accurate condition.
As public appreciation for the Mustang has grown, the monetary value of the few remaining examples has skyrocketed.
War-surplus P-51s, once auctioned from storage for less than $2,000, are now usually valued at nearly a million dollars or more.
The restoration of existing airframes has become a small industry in the U.S., U.K. and Australia, and the total number of flyable examples, despite one or two accidents each year, is growing.”
The Mustang also had range. Unlike earlier fighter-planes it could escort a long-range bombing-run from England over Europe, clear over Germany, where it could fight off the deadly Messerschmitts.
Quite a few Mustangs were saved; around 150 are still airworthy.
The Mustang airplane even has its own website, one of many.
One could argue the car was named after the airplane, but I don’t think so. The car was named after the horse, as was the airplane.
Just the same, the Mustang is a fabulous airplane. Every American should be required by law to see one fly. I did, and I will never forget it! That’s goin’ to my grave.
Not only is the Mustang graceful and beautiful, it’s a great airplane.



Rest-in-peace! (Photo by Rich Borkowski.)

—The July 2014 entry of my Norfolk Southern Employees’ Photography-Contest calendar is probably the last entry in the contest-calendar by photographer Rich Borkowski.
Sadly, Borkowski is gone; he died September 17th, 2013.
Obviously the railroad felt very highly of him, probably also as an employee. Borkowski was a dispatcher.
They ran a full-page memorial of him as an ad in my Trains Magazine.
Borkowski had some of the greatest photographs ever in this calendar.
I can think of one; what I consider the most extraordinary photograph ever in this calendar, a fabulous depiction of the old Pennsy mainline.


The BEST ever. (Photo by Rich Borkowski.)

The railroad is bridging a creek outlet on the old Pennsy main north of Harrisburg. The creek is flowing into the Susquehanna (“suss-kwee-HAH-nuh;” as in “and”) River, and the viaduct is Pennsy’s standard stone-arch.
The bridge is overkill, but Pennsy moved a lot of traffic. That viaduct is wide enough for four tracks, although it’s down to two. I’ve seen it myself along parallel U.S. Route 15. And fortunately for us Borkowski knew it was much more symbolic than it appears in reality.
July is the month of our nation’s independence. Borkowski wanted to include a flag.
The old Pennsy crossed a massive truss-bridge over Rochester Riverfront Park in Rochester, PA.
The park was flying a gigantic flag.
A westbound Norfolk Southern trash-train poked through the giant rusty truss-work, and BAM! Borkowski had his picture.
Better yet, the giant flag, a 40-footer, is flapping in the breeze.
A photograph for July 4th, but not as good as the stone-arch viaduct picture.
Borkowski will be missed. I do okay myself, but I’m not him.
There is another photograph which I think is his, but I’m not sure.


Here’s another. (Photo by Rich Borkowski [I think].)

I wasn’t slugging photos with the photographer’s name at that time.
It’s where Pennsy’s low-grade Sang Hollow Extension began west of Johnstown. The train is taking the Extension — the main curves to the right.


The photo the railroad used in the memorial ad. (Photo by Rich Borkowski.)

This photo was used in the 2010 calendar. It depicts a trash-train threading West Park in Pittsburgh.
As I hear it, Norfolk Southern is no longer hauling trash.



’32 Ford three-window coupe hotrod. (Photo by Scott Williamson.)

—The July 2014 entry of my Oxman Hotrod Calendar is a 1932 Ford three-window coupe made into a hotrod.
To me, this is the best-looking hotrod of all, a chopped ’32 Ford three-window.
“Three-window” because it doesn’t have the two small windows behind the doors like last month — which make it a “five-window.”
Plus the top has been “chopped,” three and one-half inches cut out of the vertical posts, and then rewelded, to lower the top.
There are two things wrong with this car:
—1) is the headlights. I don’t know what they are, but they’re hardly stock. Stock headlight nacelles would look much better.
—2) is the flame-paint. A stock ’32 Ford coupe is one of best-looking cars of all time. We can thank Edsel Ford for that, Old Henry’s son, who he continually badmouthed.
Were it not for Edsel, Ford Motor Company probably would have tanked. Old Henry was convinced all people needed was the Model-T.
But American car-buyers wanted style as well as function.
Ford Motor Company started failing again after WWII. They were mired in antique engineering.
The car that saved the company.
But Old Henry’s grandson, Henry Ford II (“the Deuce”), pushed through the 1949 Ford, the car that saved the company. It updated the engineering.
I notice this car’s body is high atop its frame-rails, probably the stock location.
The car also looks to be riding at stock height, not lowered.
About the only move toward “lowering” is chopping the top.
The motor looks fabulous. It’s a 350-Chevy with triple carbs. The carburetors are Stromberg 94s, which seem before the time of a 350-Chevy.
You also have to hope you don’t encounter a bug-infestation, or drive a dusty dirt-track. The carburetors are unfiltered. Their open mouths yawn directly into the atmosphere.
Although I have a feeling this car is a trailer-queen.
Unfiltered carbs just about take a car off the road. —I also don’t see a wiper.
Just-the-same, a chopped ’32 Ford three-window coupe is the best looking hotrod. I saw one recently at a car-show, but it was red. (I prefer yellow.)


Best-of-show. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Even with auto-tranny — I don’t know what it was; I prefer a four-speed — I should have asked what the owner would want to part with it.
The calendar-car is also on bias-ply tires, what were available back then.
I’m leery of that. Modern radial tires are much better = easier to drive.
As my deceased bus-driver friend once said: “A hotrod is only okay if you can drive the bitch.”
I’m sure a hotrod would be a handful even on radials.


A box-cab P-5. (Photo by Jim Buckley.)

—My All-Pennsy color calendar is as much portraits as it is drama. The January picture was the one-and-only DD-2 electric locomotive (4-4-4-4).
The July 2014 entry is a box-cab P-5 (4-6-4) locomotive awaiting assignment at Enola (“aye-NOLE-uh;” as in “hey”) Yard across from Harrisburg.
The P-5 was Pennsy’s first attempt at passenger locomotion as it began electrifying its New York City to Washington, D.C. line.
As I understand it, the last portion electrified was into Washington D.C. as a “New Deal” project in the ‘30s. —That is, the railroad would have not done it but for “New Deal” financing. Ahem, the railroad, a bunch of esteemed CONSERVATiVES, were happy to take a government handout = manna from Heaven. Conservative principles my foot! Free market my foot!
Perhaps more precisely, the railroad could not easily afford to electrify the line.
That’s a large capital-investment, and it was the Depression.
The New Deal, and cheap labor, made it possible.
Often the dreaded guvamint is instrumental in promulgating positive social policy, for example the Eisenhower Interstate System.
That line into Washington D.C, still exists, and became the basis of Amtrak’s Northeast Corridor, which the public seems to prefer over flying.
Airports are located far from city-centers; the Corridor stations are right downtown.
The Corridor was even extended to Boston, with electrification recently installed. Pennsy ended in New York City, although New York, New Haven & Hartford was electrified to New Haven.
The P-5 didn’t work out as a passenger engine. It couldn’t boom-and-zoom.
Pennsy developed a passenger engine that could boom-and-zoom, the GG-1.
The GG-1 was overkill for what it was asked to do, but overkill was what was needed.
So, what to do with the P-5?
Pennsy geared ‘em down for freight-service; they would live out their lives moving freight.
A steeple-cab P-5a at the sand-tower at the Wilmington (DE) shops. (Photo by Bobbalew.)

A brace of box-cab P-5as also at the sand-tower at Wilmington shops — next to a GG-1. (Photo by Bobbalew.)
There were two kinds of P-5s. Pennsy tried a steeple-cab version after the crew of a box-cab was killed in a grade-crossing accident.
With a box-cab the crew was right up front at the point of impact.
A steeple-cab had that long nose in front of the crew. The GG-1 is also a steeple-cab.
Some railfans make the mistake of calling the steeple-cab P-5 a P-5a. But the box-cabs  and steeple-cabs are identical electrically. They both are P-5a.
There also is a P-5b, essentially a more powerful P-5a with slightly different appearance.
Since the steeple-cabs were safer, they were usually run in front of box-cabs. The P-5s could be multipled.
I never did very well photographing P-5s; The freights on the New York to Washington main weren’t as frequent as GG-1 powered passenger expresses.
This is AWFUL! (Photo by Bobbalew.)
I include the only photograph I ever got of a P-5, but it’s dreadful.
And a box-cab is leading.
It’s a freight negotiating the Edgemoor yard-entrance, next to the old “Bell” commuter shanty, long removed.
I’m photographing from the shanty.
I only took it because it was there. I have it slugged as “DontBother.”



A 1967 Pontiac G-T-O convertible. (Photo by Peter Harholdt©.)

—The July 2014 entry in my Motorbooks Musclecar calendar is a baby-blue 1967 Pontiac G-T-O convertible.
I was planning to run it last, but the July 2014 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar is even worse, the worst diesel-locomotive ever marketed, the Baldwin Centipede.
I always consider the first G-T-O, the ’64, the best.


A ’64 G-T-O. (Photo by Peter Harholdt©.)

The G-T-O was an interesting concept: a full-size car’s motor in the smaller and lighter mid-size body.
It was a smashing marketing concept, and sold like hotcakes.
Especially when they hot-rodded that motor for extreme performance.
“G-T-O” stands for “Gran Turismo Omologato,” a badge copped from Ferrari.
Which got sportscar enthusiasts all upset.
“Homologated” (“Omologato”) meant it was homologated for racing.
Then Car and Driver magazine declared it even better than the Ferrari — a ploy that made it a viable car-magazine.
Which it was, for American highways. But on a racetrack that Ferrari would run circles around that Pontiac.
Try to drive a Ferrari G-T-O on American highways, and you’d be over your head.
At least with a Pontiac G-T-O you just hop in the seat and drive.
And what fun that could be, with a motor that could put everything else behind you.
But the Pontiac G-T-O wasn’t very well developed. Floor it in a curve and it could spin you into the trees.
After 1964, Pontiac started using its ’65 and later mid-sized offerings as the basis for its G-T-O.
To me, they don’t look as good as the ’64. —In fact, they’re ugly.
While I was in college the Dean’s son got a ’65 G-T-O.
He kept driving it in Winter, so it loaded with salt-spray.
I secretly scrawled “cheap American trash” in the salt on the flanks of his car, causing weeping and wailing and gnashing-of-teeth.
I was dragged before the Dean, guilty as charged.
For whatever reason they let me continue my college education; they were threatening to can me.
Never did I imagine I would cause such a ruckus; all the guy had to do was wash his car.
But my doing this was equal to -a) wearing tight pants, a-la-Rolling Stones, and -b) my poster of Johann Sebastian Bach winking (GASP!) for their quadrennial Bach-festival.
Apparently labeling the Dean’s son’s G-T-O “cheap American trash” was sacrilege.
1967 was the final G-T-O version with the stacked headlights.
For 1967 Pontiac scrapped its expensive triple-carb option, and increased engine-size to 400 cubic-inches.
Later G-T-Os look better.
Da Judge.
Although by then the G-T-O moniker wasn’t enough.
Pontiac had to bring out a “Judge” version of its G-T-O.








Not demoted yet; Centipedes front a passenger-train. (Photo by Milton A Davis©.)

—The July 2014 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black-and-white All-Pennsy Calendar is perhaps the worst locomotive mighty Pennsy ever fielded, the Baldwin Centipede.
The Centipede was Baldwin’s first attempt at building a dedicated passenger locomotive.
Other railroads had a few, but as I understand it, the Centipede was collaboration between the Pennsylvania Railroad and its long-time locomotive supplier Baldwin Locomotive Works near Philadelphia.
Pennsy built its own locomotives, but if need was high enough they’d farm out to Baldwin to build locomotives of Pennsy design.
Baldwin built 475 I-1s Decapods (2-10-0) for Pennsy.
The Centipede was an attempt to build a diesel as successful as the GG-1.
Its driving-wheels were on a sub-frame like the GG-1. Most diesel-locomotives were “trolley-motors.” Their traction-motors were in rotating trucks, front and rear.
They still are.
The Centipede had two diesel-engines, a total of 1,500 horsepower per unit.
EMD (Electromotive Diesel, GM’s locomotive division) had two engines in its E-unit passenger locomotive. But the E-unit was a trolley-motor, two independently rotating six-wheel trucks at each end.
And only four of those wheels were powered. The center wheels were unpowered.
Baldwin Centipedes were unreliable and hard to service. Each locomotive was built as a single build, so wire-routing and location of parts was different for each locomotive.
And a crippled trains plugs the railroad.
You can’t just drive around a crippled train; it’s blocking the track you need.
If a train cripples you have to send a rescue locomotive.
Nothing moves until you move the cripple — unless you have multiple tracks.
Worst of all the Centipede wouldn’t multiple. Railroads quickly discovered diesel-electric locomotives could multiple, just like electric locomotives.
That is, one engineer could control multiple locomotives. It’s not that way with steam-locomotives. Pennsy multipled steam-locomotives, but that’s a crew for each locomotive (Pennsy could afford double-crewing).
The Centipedes were quickly downgraded. Unable to multiple, they couldn’t even front freight-trains.
Centipedes return around Horseshoe Curve for another shove up The Hill.
They were assigned as helpers on Pennsy’s famous grade over Allegheny mountain, as pictured at left.
Couple ‘em to the tail of a train, and let ‘em shove.
And hope they didn’t cripple on the way up The Hill.
I’m wondering if they could even use the loop-track atop The Hill at Gallitzin (“guh-LIT-zin;” as in “get”), with that long driver wheelbase.
Pennsy would turn helpers atop The Hill, and send them back down to Altoona to shove another train.
At least you could operate the Centipedes from either end.
The Centipedes might have to go all-the-way to Cresson (“KRESS-in”) to use the “MO” crossovers to avoid the Loop.

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