Saratoga Stereopticon
'The Wonderful Locomotive' comes to Saratoga
By Willys Peck
A lot of unkind things were said about the "Big Four" who caused the Central Pacific Railroad to be built over the western half of the United States. Their epic achievement was overshadowed by the gouging of shippers and passengers, who were charged freight rates and fares far above the actual costs of operation.
As builder of the Dangerous Instrumentality and Attractive Nuisance Railroad, I'll have to confess a certain empathy with Messrs. Stanford, Huntington, Crocker and Hopkins. Anyone who goes to that much trouble is entitled to do a little milking along the way. Of course, there is a difference between building a railroad spanning half a continent and one that simply encircles a suburban yard, but the principle is the same.
In a previous column I described the beginnings of the D.I.&A.N. and the 1971 debacle that justified the name. I also touched on the inspiration for the locomotive that I started building in 1975: Engine 44, in a book from my childhood, The Wonderful Locomotive, and the Central Pacific's C.P. Huntington, which had the right appearance, including a "diamond" smokestack.
There were some serious technical problems along the way. The scale, somewhat less than half of full-size, was determined by the two-foot track gauge, which, in turn, had been determined by a switch that was with the supply of steel rail I got from a former fruit drying yard. Following that scale, the frame of the engine had to be 14 feet long, with a cowcatcher extending in front of that.
In itself, the size was no problem. But the layout of my yard necessitated the inclusion of one tight-radius curve in the track, the one that caused the passenger-loaded car to overturn in 1971. When it came to the locomotive, which had front and rear four-wheel trucks and a pair of large driving wheels in the middle, the track configuration presented some serious problems.
The rear truck--built as payment of my fee for a divorce I obtained for a law office client with a machine shop--had a gasoline motor mounted on a small platform directly above and between the axles. The motor, a 7 horsepower Briggs & Stratton with a centrifugal clutch, was attached to a garden tractor transmission. This, in turn, was connected to the wheels by a motorcycle chain on sprockets fitted to the two left wheels. A sleeve with fittings on each axle enabled the wheels on the opposite side to have power, too.
But that tight curve on the track meant that the front four-wheel truck, called the pilot truck, had to swing far out from under the frame, something that would never happen with a real engine. I managed this with a swivel-arm arrangement straight out of Rube Goldberg. Also, the rear truck had to be able to move from side to side, in addition to turning, which meant having its own channel for doing so, and springs to keep it in position.
The two driving wheels, which were for looks only, came from a dump and were just what I needed. They were wood-spoke automobile wheels that were exactly the right scale. Somebody up there likes me, I concluded. I had a steel strip welded around the rim so they could run on the rails. Because of the track curvature, the driving wheels had to swivel on their own axis; more heavy springs.
Welding was a key element of construction. Not having mastered the heavy-duty arc welder I bought, I hired the son of a law-office client to help me with welding and other metal work. He was taking metal shop at high school, and the kid was good. He could strike an arc with that welder at the first touch of the rod.
I had the smokestack made at a sheet-metal shop from which, up to that time, the proprietor had turned out remarkably few, if any, 1860's-era diamond stacks. He had given me a firm price at the outset, and when I picked it up, he admitted that, to use the business term, he was really taking a bath.
The boiler, cab, sides of the tender--actually the rear portion of the engine--and cowcatcher were essentially woodworking projects. Piston rods, cylinders and valve gear were challenging but not insurmountable tasks. A bell of just the right scale turned up at a shop selling barbecue supplies. Finding a five-quill whistle, which used lung power and plastic tubing, was no problem.
The nearest thing to a problem occurred in 1980, after Engine 44 was completed, when my wife and I added what we call the Great Hall--intended as an indoor theater--onto our house. The architect had factored in the track layout, but he was off by several feet. Built to its intended dimensions, the addition would have meant moving the track, which I wouldn't do. So a portion of one wall is at an angle.
Then, on its first run rounding a curve, I had to bring Engine 44 to an abrupt stop so the corner of the cab roof wouldn't strike the building. The solution: cut a notch in the side of the building.
You guys in the Big Four didn't know the meaning of trouble.
Saratoga, California Since 1955
