There are people in this world, who no
matter how well they do, or how many successes they achieve, it's
that one grand failure that sets them up for life. The one thing that
everyone remembers above all, and no matter what you do, you can't
seem to get away from. Here’s one of those grand flops. So grand in
fact, that it caused a locomotive builder to shut down, and stained
the reputation of one of America's most inventive designers. All
thanks to a misunderstanding of physics, and the French.
Septimus Norris (1818 to 1862) was one
of America's more earlier locomotive designers, and he seemed to have
a bit of a cloud over him. He did hit some home runs though. He built
the first 4-6-0 ten-wheeler, helped pioneer level cylinders, and was
one of the more influential people who developed the 4-4-0 wheel
arrangement. Probably his most successful design was the pilot truck.
This was a center-pivot two axle wheel-set. Arguably one of the best
all-American locomotive innovations of the 1800s, and a key to
unlocking the abilities of the 4-4-0.
It's flexibility locomotives on
uneven track no matter how sloppy the construction. Perfect for
hastily constructed American right of ways that climbed over
mountains and twisted through valleys. (The British had a knack to
overbuild their roadbeds and make their track-work stupid perfect, so
they never really saw the need for a pilot truck. That’s why you
rarely see them on UK locos until the 20th century.)
A Norris, exported to the UK. |
However, he wasn’t exactly an
exceptional designer either. Plenty of his innovations just outright didn't
work, or some unforeseen circumstance thwarted it between the design
table, and reality. One has to remember that while these men were
educated in a sense, simple physics wasn’t simple to a generation
of do-it-yourself steam engineers building the very foundations of an
industry. Most were better at iron casting and blacksmithing than at
figuring weights, wheel adhesion, and tractive effort tables. Almost all
master mechanics from those years got their education by the school
of hard knocks via an apprenticeship, not no fancy books. (In fact,
most of them were writing the books on steam engineering)
The Norris 4-2-0, one of the more successful designs. |
When Septimus took
over the management of the spanking brand-new Schenectady Locomotive
Works in 1848, he thought he had a foolproof scheme for success.
There was a spanking new type of locomotive design circulating around
in Europe, where the Norris brothers had a few, shall we say,
business connections (see spies) and the plans for this new design
had been surreptitiously re-routed to Septimus’ back pocket like a
downloaded youtube video.
The design had been the 1845 brainchild
of one Thomas Russell Crampton in England, and it was said by many
who drink tea to be the best design for a high-speed passenger
locomotive. It had been common knowledge for a while that the best
way to get a fast machine was to give it big driving wheels, getting
the longest stride for each stroke of the cylinder. However, this had
a consequence that the bigger the driving wheels, the higher the axle
center. The higher the axle center, the higher the boiler above it
had to be placed. High boilers made for a top-heavy locomotive, which
became unstable at high speeds, and prone to sudden upright
existential crisis.
Crampton’s solution was to design a
locomotive with a single stupidly large driving wheel with it's axle
behind the boiler instead of underneath it. Crampton’s locomotive
had low centers of gravity and better stability. The idea spread, and
very soon Crampton locomotives were hauling fast passenger trains in
England, France, Belgium, and Germany. In France, they became so
popular that “Le Crampton” became synonymous with “Locomotive.”
In 1850, the Syracuse & Utica RR
came knocking on the front door of the new Schenectady plant and
wanted a fast locomotive. Septimus Norris knew exactly what to give
them. Using his new 'jacked Crampton plans he rolled out the
“Lightning,” a 20-ton machine with a set of 84-inch drivers, a
pair of ridged carrying wheels under the boiler, and his own spin on
the remix, a 4-wheel pilot truck in front. The locomotive had
English-style Gooch valve gear, and as if flexing on his master of
design piracy, Septimus even included front buffers instead of a
cowcatcher and no cab.
The machine was tried out in January of
1850, and it flew as fast as the track— newly upgraded from wooden
stringers and strap rails on blocks of stone, to iron rails on ties—
would allow. Septimus and the Norris organization advertised the
locomotive to be the beginning of a new age of American motive power.
That must have been a thrilling ride being so close to the drivers
with a open cab! I feel like the engineer learned real quick to keep
his arms in.
The Lightning herself. |
There was just one problem, well...okay
a few problems including this things propensity to de-limb it's crew,
but one major one. All the weight of the locomotive was carried on
wheels other than the drivers. So adhesion and traction were
virtually nil. All Cramptons had this issue. In Europe, where trains
were short, cars were light, the land was level, and the roadbeds
were advertised as billiard table, this wasn’t a problem.
However, on the Syracuse & Utica,
the “Lightning” could barely pull her own shadow with a set of
heavy American-made passenger cars chained behind her, The S&U’s
primitive roadbed made the locomotive ride like a car-sick ten year
old, which exaggerated the formally mentioned problems of being in an
outside cab. To add insult to injury, the locomotive's design
couldn't even achieve the high speeds it's American-designed
counterparts could hold on the same track, and it's rough handling at
the speeds it could reach caused the locomotive to constantly be in a
state of self-disassembly. After a few months, the S&U’s
management pulled the plug, and the “Lightning” was sidelined
until she could be rebuilt into a conventional 4-4-0.
The “Lightning” fiasco was big news
in railroad circles. There were other experimental Crampton designs
tried by the Camden & Amboy RR, the Pennsylvania RR, and the
Vermont Central RR. None seemed to work any better.
Septimus Norris’ reputation as a
builder of locomotives was the real victim. Who wanted a locomotive
from a builder who flopped as dramatically as Septimus? Trying to
hock someone else's design no less. Poor Septimus went from an up and
coming designer to a laughingstock. Customers at the Schenectady
works took their business elsewhere, and Septimus and his brother
Edward were forced to close the plant doors in 1851. Septimus Norris
continued to build locomotives at the original Norris factory in
Philadelphia until a “carbuncle” took him out in 1862. However,
his reputation as a designer would never really recovered.
There is a silver lining for
Schenectady Works. The works would reopen later, under the hands of John
Ellis and Walter McQueen. With sound construction and more
traditional designs, they made the operation into one of the nation’s
largest. Including building the Jupiter and her sisters of Golden
Spike fame. The Schenectady Works would eventually become the heart
of the American Locomotive Co. after the turn of the century.
Man, isn't it a right bitch when your
entire career, which is highlighted by such innovations that would
last to the end of steam power, is reduced in history book to a few
paragraphs describing your worst decision. The story of the
“Lightning’s” failure is repeated in locomotive books to this
day.