Early on Saturday morning, I drove down to a quiet rural village in Orange County to attend the Somerset School of Steam. I'd asked Rob to attend with me and was meeting him there. As a child I'd attended steam engine fairs, although we called them traction engines in England, and I was pleased when I heard the instructors at the school refer to them as these also.
The Somerset School of Steam is run by Gil Roberts, who grew up with these majestic engines and helped his father maintain them. Gil had first practiced on an old Maytag washing machine, pulling it apart, repairing it, and then putting it back together. He'd take it along to shows and then later moved from gas engines on to steam. This year would be the school's 21st year, and although Gil insisted that he was constantly learning, it was clear that he and his friends were experts. They evidently knew their engines, and their apparent enthusiasm just fired me up. Over the course of the weekend we would learn primarily about safety, about the maintenance required on these huge beasts, and also learn how to operate them. I had been nervous about attending, wondering if I'd be the only female and also whether I'd be able to understand the technical engine jargon. I had nothing to worry about on either account. There were other women present and our instructors held my rapt attention for every minute.
The school was started when Virginia declared that every operator needed to hold a license to run a traction engine. The ruling eventually fell through but the classes continued. Today there were 20 of us, the largest class to date. Our instructors were, (as in order of the photo above), Aaron, Gil and Ben. They strolled in, chatting in wonderful southern rural accents, sounding to me like Ron White. One of the volunteers was even called Tater! Many were wearing denim coveralls, shit kicker boots and t-shirts from old steam shows, with straw hats on their heads and tobacco packed in their cheeks. Awesome. They made us feel at ease immediately and welcomed us warmly.
The barn we were sitting in was a marvel in itself, all the walls hung with old gas or oil signs, block and tackle, farm equipment and hundreds of photos. Antique steam and mechanical memorabilia was everywhere, so much of it that I was amazed the weight of it all hadn't tugged the walls down. In front of each of us were a couple of steam manuals, one at least an inch thick, and I chewed my nails for a good few minutes, scared we'd have to read or memorize them before Sunday.
We sat in class and listened as Gil and his helpers took it in turns to talk. Most of the traction engines running today are about 100 years old. Built for industrial use, they were used for plowing and threshing on farms until the tractor, which ran on kerosene, took over, but the huge metallic steam engines still ruled at the saw mills. Their manufacturers built them, expecting them to have a lifespan of 5-15 years assuming owners would not maintain them properly. Many from the mid west were lost when WWII broke them down for scrap metal. The makes owned by Gil and his steam team are Gaar, Case, and Port Huron.
Outside was an engine actually sliced in half so we could see all the parts and understand their mechanisms. I could go into great length here on how they operate and the differences between the machines. I'm actually quite proud of how much I understood, how much information I actually retained, and especially how much I was enjoying learning about these metallic dinosaurs.
This little fella is Ben's son, a smart lad who had his little engine up and running in no time. It ran on air and he proudly explained how every part worked.
We learned that although there were some differences between the makes, fundamentally they all operated mostly the same. The traction engines that had been standing quietly behind the barn had now been fired up and we watched them crunch loudly across the gravel as they rolled towards the fields, leaving a wonderfully enticing aroma of burning coal in their wake.
We learned of cylinders and and boilers, crown sheets and check valves, injectors and tri cocks, water gauges and governors, but mostly we learned of safety. Gil told us, "When an engine sits in a barn, you own it, but when it's running it owns you." The most repeated message was to always keep a check on the water. The only words ever written on the dry board in the class room were 'WATER, WATER, WATER'. If the water ran dry, then an explosion would likely occur. The
accident in Medina, OH, was mentioned as an example to the dangers of not paying attention. This was stressed time and time again before we were allowed out into the fields to drive the machines.
Walking down to join the engines we passed Ike, one of Gil's 2 dogs. He was actively rounding up the herd of cattle and shoving them into another field. They apparently weren't too keen on the idea but had to give in to Ike's dogged determination to get his job done.
Of the 4 engines we were driving this weekend 2 had been volunteered by Gil's friends. Gil owned the 2 Gaars, one small (model 7 or 10) and one huge beast (model 25). His friends were driving these two and there was also a Port Huron and a Case, both being driven by their owners.
I hopped up on to the small Gaar and with some instruction was allowed to drive the engine wherever I chose. With the class room instruction still fresh in my head, I was amazed to actually feel familiar with the controls and felt that despite my complete lack of experience, I was confident driving the machine. The governors on all 4 of the engines had been turned down to a lower RPM than usual so the engines wouldn't run away with us, but even so, these beasts were never designed to move fast. A steady 3-5 mph was the norm, with an ever watchful eye on the water gauge. One of Gil's friends told me of a time when he was at a show and came across a teenage boy leaning against a running traction engine, fully engrossed with his cell phone. Gil's friend noticed the water gauge was empty and pointed it out to the kid who, not even glancing up from his phone, responded, "I'm looking after this engine, I know what I'm doing." Gil's friend turned to his buddy, exclaiming loudly, "Let's get out of here, this thing's about to blow!" Upon which the kid looked up, spotted the empty gauge, yelled, "S**t!!" and rushed to turn on the injector and fill up with water. Lesson learned. Hopefully.
Rob, unfortunately, had dislocated his shoulder a few days before, so was reluctant to try driving the machines himself, but kindly took photos of me as I plodded up and down, and round and round the fields.
We spent all afternoon driving the engines. I drove both Gaars and had no issues with either. I surprised myself by actually preferring the smaller Gaar. The huge 25 Gaar Scott was a monster and could use 800 gallons of water daily if plowing. It had cost about $1300 in 1913 when it was built. It felt like it was flattening every single blade of grass that it passed over, which it likely was, but I was ever conscious of how heavy the machine was, as its huge hulk moved slowly but steadily across the field. The controls were very similar on both but the little Gaar seemed to almost bob across the grass and I fell in love with it. The guys groaned as I exclaimed how I'd love to have one to go shopping in, immediately imagining some baskets attached to the sides and some ribbons fluttering in the breeze.
Like this lady here!!
I drove home that evening with black specks and splatters all over my face and arms and sporting a huge grin.
The next morning we all met back in the classroom where coffee and doughnuts were waiting. Again, safety was emphasized as this morning we learned about lubrication and the oils required. A heavy grease is required for the larger moving parts, beef tallow once being one of the ingredients. We were told what to do in an emergency, how to empty the fire box to eliminate heat and not to add water if the crown sheet was exposed as this would cause the water to 'flash' (steam) when it hits the red hot metal, which could over pressure the boiler as well as shock the hot steel. We were to use a shovel blade as a shield for our faces while shutting off the gauge glass valves, in case the glass broke and blew steam and hot water from the boiler towards us.
We were also shown how to clean the engines. 'Parading' around the fields as we had been doing meant that the engines weren't working hard so soot would build up in the pipes. If the engine had been working hard, a lot of this soot would have been blown out.
Gil showed us how to clean the tubes and also how to empty ashes from the grate underneath the engine. We were also shown how to flush out the cylinder and to use rags as wicks to draw out any excess water and sediment. By this time I was feeling like I knew the engines quite well, they were certainly not intimidating like car engines, with their hundreds of parts, many unseen and a huge loom of wiring. These machines were made simply and solidly, and were easy to care for if you were prepared to do the work.
After class we went back down to the fields to drive some more and also to watch an engine under duress. The large Gaar was hooked up to a dynamometer and was going to increase power, the weight it pulled was measured on a scale in the barn.
I
uploaded a small video, turn up the sound. It chugged and chuffed, spitting out steam and black smoke as its pistons pumped back and forth, the governor spinning furiously like a weather vane in a hurricane. With the black skies above, the drama was intense. The ground vibrated beneath my feet and the heat blew oil and coal specks into my face and hair. Marvelous!
Ike, once again, thought the cows needed rounding up and moving to another field. A few did try to defy him but Ike is an avid ankle biter and soon had them running in the direction he wanted. I chuckled as I watched him. I tried to help the cows by calling orders to Ike. I did get him to 'Stay!' but he ignored all other commands so I had to leave him to his moment of showing off.
All the engines were back down in the field so I decided to have a go on the two I'd not yet driven. The first was the Port Huron.
This was a great engine. The levers were a little different to the Gaars but once again I didn't have any issues and felt comfortable trundling around the field. We noticed that on both days we were attracting attention from passers by. Cars were pulling over by the fence and taking photos, sometimes a little crowd gathered, likely wondering what was going on with all these people driving traction engines around in circles in a field. But I had no time to watch them, I was all eyes on my wheels, my levers and most importantly my water gauge. I did have to fill up a couple of times while driving and we even had to throw in some fuel. They mostly run on coal but a few use wood. I learned that if green wood is used then it has to be packed in as tight as possible into the fire box to dry it out. A lack of heat from wood that hasn't dried properly means a loss in power (steam).
My last drive was on the Case. This was a cute little engine and we chundered and lumbered around as I stood at the controls, feeling at ease now after a couple of days with these giant engines. I really didn't want to get off as who knows when I'll get this opportunity again? But there were still a few who were wanting a go, and with dark ominous clouds looming above, I hopped down reluctantly for the last time.
I remember as a child going to traction engine shows and recall them being much bigger and more ornate than the ones I see here in the States. Like most steam technology, they were invented in England around the time of The Industrial Revolution in 1851. I chuckled as I looked around the field, rumbling engines plodding surely and steadily past me. I bet those manufacturers, never in their wildest dreams, thought their creations would still be rolling along, in almost perfect condition 100 years later, and some driven by women!
As the afternoon came to a close Gil gathered us all together to hand out our certificates of completion. He said we'd been the best group he'd had and I have to admit, we did have a great crowd. I'd even swapped contact info with a couple and hope to stay in touch. It had been an incredible weekend and I felt a little surge in pride knowing that when I attended my next steam fair, I would be able to look at the traction engines and understand them. I hope it's information I'll have the opportunity to use again in the future, or maybe I'll just have to come back and repeat the class. Gil told us, "Steam friends are family," and it was obvious that every one of his friends felt the same way. After lots of huge hugs and waves it was time to leave and as I pulled out of Somerset School of Steam, the first heavy rain drops started falling from the metal grey sky.
http://www.somersetsteamandgas.org/steam_school.html
https://www.smokstak.com/forum/
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zG0aJ6M1bD8
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