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masaru2042 · 6 years ago

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Hippity Hoppity, Stay off Railway Property!

Told as an r/entitledparents style parody. What the engines really do have to deal with when it comes to entitled passengers.

So, I’m Dana. I’m a driver of a sapient steam engine on a particular island that was made famous by a preacher writing a bunch of children’s books. I’m the driver of the NWR #4 who pulls the Wild Norwester, aka the Express, a 4-6-2 Gresley A1/A3 Pacific known as Gordon. Just a little background for those of you who don’t know who that is. Gordon was the prototype for the A1 Pacifics designed by Nigel Gresley in 1922. The only other A1 Pacific built in Doncaster by Nigel Gresley is Gordon’s younger brother Scott Gresley, aka the Flying Scotsman. The reason why Gordon is now an A1/A3 is due to a rebuilt restoring him to his original shape as ordered from Doncaster, removing his straight Sudrian, white frame, and providing him with a Kylchap double exhaust to optimize fuel and water efficiency. He also was outfitted with corridor tenders and his Sudrian frame and Fowler tender are now on display at the Sodor Railway Museum in Vicarstown.

And me? Well, I’m a transplant from Tennessee if anyone wonders why I’m not spelling in the English style, or using British slang. Or BR and NWR terminology. And Gordon’s fireman is a funny guy named Josh with an equally funny boyfriend named Brian. They both act like my big brothers. And Gordon tends to act like my no-nonsense grandpa...among other things. But we won’t get into those.

And just in case some of you still haven’t caught on. Yes, he’s that big huge jerk from the Thomas and Friends show with the models.

Well, during the summer months, we get a lot of vacationers (holiday goers for you in the UK), and yes, lots of tourists. Thanks to those books and the show, people do come from all over the world to actually see what the real engines are like. And a lot of time, there’s a lot of dissonance from the fans who are expecting the engines to act like they do on the show. They don’t. None of them do. Henry isn’t a hypochondriac that complains about every little thing he’s feeling sick over, he’s in fact a very calculating, and intelligent person who pretty much knows secrets about everyone...even me when I had first come to Sodor! Seriously, he’s really creepy! Especially when he’s asking questions in a way to phish for information. If Henry had a computer and actual hands, I have a feeling he might try to get into every government server on the planet just to see what personal secrets he could find. Henry should be working with INTERPOL not the Northwestern Railway.

Thomas is very mellow thanks to his age, Percy actually can’t stand it when people think he’s a kid when in reality he’s older than Edward! And he acts like it too. The only one the show actually got accurate was James. Yes, James is very full of himself. Not as much as he is in the show, but he loves puffing around like he’s the king. And Edward is pretty much a down to Earth guy. And Emily acts like that older neighbor your mom knows who’s been around the world and back again and loves asking about your sign. Yeah, that older neighbor. The one with the bead necklace, the incense, and flowers in her hair. I swear to God, she’s been to San Francisco. Interesting little tidbit, Emily is the original Flying Scotsman! No joke!

Well, it was a rather steamy and hot, summer day on the Island of Sodor, and yes I know what that sounds like!

We weren’t pulling the Express at this moment, we were actually just doing a tour excursion. This is normal, it allows the tourists to ride the engines belonging to the “Steam Team” as the kiddies call it. Something the engines belonging to this “Team” roll their eyes about the label. And not in the comical way the models did. The “uh-huh, whatever” kind of eye roll, and just chuff on by, not really caring.

So, it was our turn to take the train around, letting the tourists feel what it’s like to ride one of the fastest non-streamlined steam engines in the world. And the one who actually did win the Great Race, even if he nearly killed himself doing so...beating out a diesel-electric and breaking his safety valve in the process. This is something Gordon doesn’t like talking about, despite setting a world record in the process. But still, we did give the guests a proper ride.

Best way to describe Gordon gliding down the rails. He’s basically like an antique expensive roadster. You can tell the moment you tap your foot on the gas that he’s gonna floor it and show you what speed really feels like. Not your grandma’s station wagon, I’ll tell you that! Gordon, much like all the other engines, is always kept up to specs. He pretty much runs as good as the day he popped out of the factory. You wouldn’t have guessed that he’s nearing 100 years old. Unlike his brother who is feeling his age no matter how many rebuilds he’s had. If you haven’t come out of the coaches noticing your body made a dent on the seat, Gordon feels like he hasn’t done his job in making you feel his speed.

That is the power of a Gresley Race Horse.

We were cruising around, well...the train equivalent...and given that Gordon has two corridor tenders now, we could cruise for a long while. Though we did have to stop a few times just for the passengers to get out take pictures of the scenery, that sort of thing. Only this particular excursion was allowed to stop on the line. Gordon was of course outfitted with special lamps to show that we had such permission to stop and were given proper notifications from our conductor of when it was safe to stop. And when we stopped the guests were ordered to either stay in the coaches, or stay back from the train and rails themselves for safety reasons.

No standing on railway property, basically.

No standing in front of the engine on the rails.

Do not get in the way of workmen and crewmen maintaining the engine.

We were making sure that folks understood this.

If they got off for pictures, they were only allowed to be on the grass. And only when they were ready to return to their coaches were they allowed to approach the train again.

Any questions they had, they could ask any of the service personnel and attendants.

And we all had radios.

We stopped, pulled over onto a siding. And just in case he needed it since there was a lot of stopping and starting and that’s when he uses a lot more water than when he’s running, we stopped on a siding near a water tower. Josh was filling up Gordon’s canteen and I turned on that little electric fan I clipped on above my station. It ran off of Gordon’s dynamo too, and I was grateful for it.

I grabbed a cold bottled water from the cooler we had stashed near the main tender and pressed it to my forehead. Already I could hear some of the kids asking “why doesn’t Gordon produce smoke from his funnel?” or “why does he smell like fish and chips?” And well, that made me laugh. A few months ago, Sir Topham Hatt converted Gordon into a waste vegetable oil burner. So, that explains the fried food smell. Honestly, it was a good thing because it often made the passengers even more hungry, which means they’d buy more food off the food cart in the Express. Josh liked it too, he didn’t have to shovel coal anymore, just playground sand with a tiny, toy shovel into a little opening in the firebox to help keep the fire tubes from getting clogged from the oil being atomized. And Gordon liked how much cleaner he ran.

I heard a few oldtimers snort about how that’s not a real steam engine anymore because of the oil burning rather than coal and then hear Gordon personally retort back: “You better tell Duck that, then! The GWR went to oil in the 1940s due to coal shortages! And don’t get me started about the poor caloric contents of today’s coal. The wasted veggie oil actually is better for me. Even Welsh coal is barely usable now. No wonder the BR switched to diesel the way it did.”

And that’s why Gordon’s a WVO burner, folks! And if any of you are wondering, yes! He can run off of diesel fuel if he has to. Which he did once, and no, unlike in the show, the real Gordon doesn’t bitch about the smell or look down upon diesel locomotives.

Well, enter our entitled family.

I wasn’t the one who first spotted this family doing something they were instructed not to do by the attendants in the coaches. That was Josh. Gordon, on the other hand, was concentrating on what the maintenance workers were doing. Tightening a lug nut, checking the mechanical lubrication injector, the lubricant levels, his exhaust steam injectors. Clearing any debris out of the way, checking the fuel levels on the coaches. Yeah, the coaches are diesel powered now. Hatt went all out! Servers were handing out drinks to the workers and the passengers.

I heard Josh call out: “Oi! You can’t stand on that! Step away from the track!”

The mother said: “We’re trying to take a group photo!”

I felt the cab tilt to the right just slightly. Gordon’s attention was now on the family as well.

Josh: “I said, you can’t stand in the middle of the track. Get back on the grass!”

I went to the fireman’s side of the cab, stuck my head out the window to see a very plump family, a rather large man, his equally large wife, and their cherry-red faced, plump kid in a horizontal striped T-shirt. I also could see the patches of sweat under their armpits. They were sweating more than I did just by stepping out of their coaches.

Then, Gordon spoke up with that big, booming, baritone voice of his. Seriously, he should moonlight as a radio host, he’s got the timbre for it!

“You heard what my fireman said, stay off the rails! It’s for your safety.”

Well, I hopped out the door from the cab and wiped my hands on my jeans.

The family wasn’t willing to listen to Gordon, no matter how commanding he made his voice sound. The father was standing on the grass with his smartphone out, taking a picture of the boy and his mother standing in between the railroad ties. He was angled in such a way to include Gordon in the picture.

“You should smile!” said the entitled father.

Gordon growled and just sneered. He wasn’t having any of it. And if I hadn’t set the main brake, he’d probably jut forth just to scare the entitled mother and entitled brat off the track as a lesson. I could hear a clacking sound, though, Gordon was flexing his friction brakes against his wheels, his way of tensing his muscles in his frustration. His jaw was set, his teeth clenched, and his brow furrowed.

“Hey!” I called. “What the hell do you think y’all doin’? Get off the track!”

I don’t think they liked my east Tennessean accent because the mother just turned and looked at me with disgust. Like she was looking down at some dirty farmhand.

I guess Gordon saw that face too, because the moment she made it, I heard a low groan from his wheels. He sounded like he was trying to fight against the brake keeping him motionless. The moment we met, he’s been rather overprotective of me. It’s cute. I could always count on him to have my back. There was an expulsion of steam from the sides of his cylinders. And he was rearing to open up his cock valves wide just to give them a good blast of hot vapor.

But the mother stood firm.

“We’re trying to get a photo! Now go back to your food cart, little missy!”

“Release the brake,” Gordon whispered, tilting towards me.

“No,” I said.

“I’ll run them over.”

“No you won’t.”

“They’ll be a bloody smear on my buffers.”

And they would once he started off. Gordon had a lot of torque in him, he could start off in a burst like a motorcycle if he wanted. And the last thing anyone wanted was 200 tons of locomotive racing for them.

“It’s not worth it.”

“How dare that harpy talk to you in such a manner, Dana!”

“It’s fine, sugar,” I said, laying my hand on a buffer. “Just breathe.”

He said aloud: “That’s my driver! She’s not a serving girl!”

I heard the father laugh: “Girls can’t be drivers.”

I get that a lot!

And the clacking sound returned.

“You’ll ruin your pads doing that,” I told Gordon.

“And I’ll need to be looked over for hypertension,” he said. “Because I can feel the pain in the back of my smokebox already. This woman…and her oaf of a husband...”

“Just breathe...in and out, Gordon.”

He took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. It wasn’t helping, though, as I could still hear the clacking of his brakes.

Josh had jumped down from the canteen and walked over.

“You heard what they said, off the rails, please.”

They actually listened to Josh. I tend to get that a lot. They don’t want to listen to me because they think I’m some food cart lady, despite not being dressed like one, but Josh...he looked like he belonged where he was. So, he had a more air of authority than I did. I guess it was my accent and how I try to put on that Southern sweet tea charm, you know. So, they don’t take me seriously.

I’m a redneck to them, that’s all they care about.

Obviously, they were done taking pictures.

Then, the kid turned and darted for the switch.

Points on the rails are set by switches that are either manually moved into positioned, or automatically moved into position, or done so from a signalman’s box. Here, considering the remote location of this particular siding, the point had to be set by the conductor with a lever at the side of the railroad track after the conductor got the OK from RMC (Railway Mission Control) that the track was clear for Gordon to proceed. Though this siding was on the mainline, it was quite a ways from a signalman’s box, so that’s why it had to be switched by hand from the conductor.

And yes, I realize they’re called Guards in the UK and Sodor. But I did say I’m from the US...so...conductor. And Gordon loves correcting my terminology.

Well, that kid bolted for the switch, and started messing around with it.

Gordon, me, and Josh all lurched forward.

“Step away from that, kid!” I shouted.

“Don’t touch that!” bellowed Gordon.

“What are you doing?!” Josh shouted.

The point was set so that any train needing to pass this siding could. But the boy grunted and turned the point, setting the switch to the siding. This would allow Gordon to exit the siding back onto the mainline. And that was a bad! This meant any train coming through would derail from the track being set improperly.

“NO!” all three of us cried.

I darted forth and tossed the kid from the lever. Considering I worked with steam engines for a good portion of my life, I was pretty muscular and toned. And I could toss around guys bigger than me with ease. The kid hit the ballast and obviously skinned his elbow. But I wasn’t worried about that. My concern was the switch.

Whatever train would be passing by, could very well be derailed!

Who cares about a little brat and his skinned elbow? But the EM was furious.

“How dare you assault my baby!”

Baby? That lard of a kid looked like he was 8 years old!

And Gordon was cross. (Because of course I had to put that there.)

“Baby?” he asked. “Your little piglet just very well might cause a terrible accident!”

There was vitriol dripping from his words.

“He’s only playing!” called the mother. “Let him play! He’s not hurting anyone. He’s a good boy.”

“Get that crotch goblin away from the switch!” Gordon bellowed out. “Wesley!”

Crotch Goblin. God I love you, Gordon, I thought.

Wesley was our conductor. And he was a bit of a pushover especially with how Gordon boxed the poor kid’s ears with that voice of his. Wesley was kinda new to the job and most of the times he was regulated to excursion duties. Rarely did he ever serve on the Express due to his inexperience.

I could see him fiddling with his whistle, trying to straighten his hat. He was a mess. All the while, I was jerking back and forth trying to get the switch unstuck and set back correctly. These switches sometimes got stuck because of the heat.

“Y-yes, sir, Mr. Gresley,” said Wesley.

Just a little fact that many of y’all don’t know. You think we’re the ones in charge here? The show seems to make you think that, don’t it? Nope. The engines are. Especially engines with seniority like Gordon. And he made sure everyone on his team knew it. And again, the kid’s a pushover.

“Go help Dana with the switch!” Gordon barked.

The boy was already bawling like it was the end of the world. And entitled mother was leaning down to comfort him. The noise was enough to attract the other passengers to the commotion.

“What happened?” asked Wesley.

“Kid pulled the lever,” said Josh.

“She assaulted my baby!” said the entitled mother.

“I should have you all fired!” the entitled dad shouted. “And that metal monstrosity scrapped.”

“I beg your pardon!” Gordon rounded. “Don’t spit indignation at me, sir! Your piglet has endangered lives. Wesley, is there a train coming?”

“The Express, Mr. Gresley.”

“Damn…” Gordon seemed to deflate and the color left his cheeks at the sound of a familiar, high-pitched whistle. “Henry’s coming! This is the Flying Kipper all over again. Hurry!”

Oh, god...I heard the stories of Henry’s crash. Of course I knew of it from the books, and from the show. But the real story was much more gruesome. Awdry may have said that his driver and fireman survived for the sake of the kids, but that was far from the truth. They were dead, both of them. The driver’s head was bashed into to Henry’s controls, thrown from his seat. Henry’s pipes were covered in his driver’s blood. The fireman died moments later, crushed ribs and internal bleeding from the impact. And Henry was lucky to have survived at all to be rebuilt into a Stanier Black 5. He was a changed “man” after that. Much sterner than when he arrived on the island.

“Sir,” I shouted. “You’re about to force an engine who just lived through a horrible wreck involving a point set wrong to relive that nightmare again. And endangering everyone he’s currently pulling in his coaches. When this is over, I’m making sure Hatt kicks you and your family of pork rinds off the NWR. Have fun takin’ the bus for now on! Or walkin’. Y’all look like you need a good exercise anyhoo.”

The bus on this island was terrible. Just a little FYI.

Already, Wesley was radioing the conductor on the Express, hoping to get Henry to slow down before he derailed. The whistle was even louder.

Josh and I were pulling the lever as hard as we could. A creak, and at last the lever budged. The point reset to allow Henry to pass through safely. A final whistle and the green NWR #3 came speeding on passed Gordon with the Wild Nor’wester. I collapsed upon my butt and gasped, sweat stinging my eyes. Josh did the same, patting me on the back.

“You all right?” he asked.

“I will be,” I said.

The conductor still held onto the entitled father and entitled mother, and they held onto their sniveling kid. While he was holding onto his elbow.

“Wesley,” I said, looking up at the conductor. “Escort those three to the brake coach and keep an eye on them. The first station we’re stopping at, I want them off the train and in the station master’s office.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “This way, please.”

“I should have your job!” the entitled father called.

“Get the first aid kit, and wipe the little porker’s booboo,” I said. I slowly rose to my shaking feet. “I should leave y’all right here! Have you hoof it to the next station. Maybe if I’m lucky, y’all be arrested by our security guards for trespassin’ on railroad property!”

“Leave them here,” said Gordon. “Especially for that sodding ‘scrapped’ remark!”

I really didn’t give two shits about Gordon’s language here.

So many of Gordon’s brothers had been scrapped thanks to the modernization of the British Railways. So, of course he would take that insult quite personally.

“You hear that?” I continued. “Gordon wants to leave you stranded. And I’m inclined to agree with him. But I’m not petty like y’all are.” I turned to him. “No. Follow the rules, Gordon. As much as we hate it. Turn them into the station master and they’ll be banned from riding any of our coaches again.”

“I suppose that shall suffice,” he said. It didn’t sit happy with him, though. And it was understandable why he said that. Gordon’s jaw was still tensed, set tightly. I reached up and patted him on the running board and he seemed to unwind just a slight, his frame coming to a rest.

“Wankers,” he at last said to relieve any emotional steam still pinned up inside. “The lot of them. Completely gobsmacked those types exist.”

“Yeah,” I said with a huff.

“You two finished taking the piss, or are we getting this bloody train a-moving?” Josh asked.

Gordon and I laughed. That finally got the last kink in our collective spines untied. I took a deep breath and rounded Gordon, only to climb in on the driver’s side. We waited for Wesley to come back. He no doubt already ordered the other crewmen to keep an eye on our entitled guests. He maybe a pushover to us, but not to the passengers. Especially the unruly ones. He took out his pocket watch, glanced at it, and then dropped it back into his pocket. He pulled out a radio, calling for the signal to switch the points. The passengers were already on board.

A few of Gordon’s valves began to move just slightly. The cock valves in his cylinders opened up with a hiss. I pinched the brake lever and pushed it forward and Gordon clenched his friction brakes to compensate. Then, the conductor whistled and signaled for the all clear. Gordon steamed forwards slowly, relaxing the brakes. As he pulled up, Wesley took hold of the railing and climbed into the cab.

Gordon sounded his low whistle twice and he was off.

And if y’all are wondering about what happens to the points after the train passes them. It is weight sensitive, and there’s a mechanism that puts the points back once the train clears it. The conductor normally will see if the point had reset by the signal’s position. And it did. Only the lever got stuck, not the mechanism itself.

By the time the train pulled into the station, there were security guards waiting to escort the entitled family to the station master’s office for a stern talking to. On the other platform was Henry with the Express, waiting to load his passengers. I suppose he noticed the security guards escorting the still bickering entitled family, because he spoke up.

“Gordon, what the bloody hell happened?”

“You almost had another wreck, Henry,” Gordon replied. “No thanks to that family of pigs over there.”

“Eh? What were they doing?”

“Messing with the points.”

“So that’s what my driver was acting all frantic about,” he said. “I thought the man was having a heart attack.”

“Nope, you nearly had a wreck like the one back in...what was it…‘36?”

“Was ‘35, actually.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Gordon said. “1935. Bloody snowstorm.”

“I should know, I was out in it, unfortunately. Then the Thin Clergyman decided to put my rebuild at 1951. Don’t know why he’d did that. That was getting close to the year Beeching was proposing his modernization plan.”

“Dreadful man.”

Gordon never liked Richard Beeching. With good reason.

A whistle from the platform sounded and Henry got his signal to move on.

“See you back at the sheds, Gordon!” he said with a whistle, pulling out from the station.

I came walking out onto the platform, stopping right beside Gordon’s smoke box.

“I think I’m gonna go home, prop my feet up, get out a tub of chocolate ice cream and watch a stupid chick flick tonight,” then I turned to him. “Wanna join me?”

“Well, you did leave that tub of ice cream in the freezer back at the sheds,” he said. “What stupid chick flick do you want to watch?”

“How about Sex in the City?”

“Oh, that’s a ripe cabbage, isn’t it?” Gordon asked. “Brilliant. We can both yell at the movie.”

“Hey, Josh, wanna join us?”

“Nah,” he said through the window. “Dinner night. Brian’s cooking.”

“Have fun with that,” I said. “Hey, you make sure you share some leftovers. You know how much I love Brian’s cooking.”

“And how much I love smelling it,” said Gordon. “I swear, if it kills me, I’ll figure out how to eat, someday.”

“I promise, Gordon,” began Josh. “I’m sure he’ll have some leftover wasted vegetable oil. We’ll put it in the strainer and give it to you.”

“Good enough.”

Well, we all returned to our posts and continued the excursion.

Movie night was fun too.

The next day, we were back on Express duty. Sir Topham Hatt came to tell us that family was banned from any excursions and any service on the railway. Like I said, regulated to riding the bus for now on. They were also severely fined. Like severely, made to do some community service as well.

Funny note on that family, apparently, it wasn’t the first time that hog brat messed with the switches. We stopped for a connection with the Skarloey Railway. And in came Sir Handel with his passengers. Word got around quick about the family. And Handel knew all about it.

“They pulled that stunt with us here on the narrow gauge,” said Sir Handel. “The fat twat of a boy started messing with the points. Rheneas saw what was happening, screeched to a halt as best as he could...and derailed. No one was hurt, thank heavens.”

“Why the bloody hell was that family allowed to ride my excursion train, then?” Gordon asked. “If that boy pulled the same stunt as before? And caused a wreck.”

I was out standing on the walkway between the narrow gauge track and the standard one, looking dumbfounded by what Sir Handel had said.

“The little piggy bolted away when he heard his mum calling him,” said Richard, Handel’s driver.

“Aye, greasy bugger, that one,” said Handel. “Before the security could catch up, I suppose he must’ve gotten on your train, Gordon.”

“What the actual fuck,” I said, shaking my head.

“But the security cameras caught him in the act,” said Richard. “I suppose after the second stint he caused, that was enough to ban the whole family. He was also causing some mischief with the Smallies too. Was trying to tip over poor Mike, calling him a toy. Mum encouraged it too, saying ‘he’s only playing’.”

“Bloody strong, if he could attempt to tip over Mike,” said Handel. “Smallies may be small, but they are heavy.”

“Each of them weigh as much as a car,” I said.

“He could tip over your Mustang if given a chance,” said Gordon.

“Like I’d let him have it!”

Gordon chuckled.

“The Small Controller kicked the mother and her brat out,” said Handel. “Filed a report on it. Then, they came here. And started more trouble.”

“And then they came onto my train,” said Gordon. “Lovely, isn’t it? We have a connection with the Arlesdale Railway. Should let the Small Controller know we got the brat and his parents banned from all of the railway.”

“I’d say for that boy, he’s…” began Handel. “How do you American’s say it, Dana? He rides the short bus, seems like?”

“That’s what we say, Sir Handel,” I nodded in agreement. “And his parents probably spoiled him rotten because of it.”

I took a glance back and noticed all the passengers were finally filing on board. Turning around, I slowly trotted back toward Gordon’s cab.

“Thanks for the info!” I waved, hopping back in. “We’ll let Mr. Duncan know we had a visit from the Terror Piglet.”

Both Sir Handel and Gordon broke out into a chuckle at the name I gave the kid.

Sad fact of some parents with children that have developmental problems. Sometimes, they just spoil them, let them do whatever they want. Don’t bother to correct their behavior. And this case was one of those. I suppose my name for the kid seemed mean. I should blame the parents more than the child for bringing him up like that. But considering the havoc he raised, putting people and engines in danger, damaging railway property, little regard to what he was doing, and his parents encouraging the behavior, to relieve my stress, the “Terror Piglet” seemed to stick. Judge me for my own behavior, but the kid nor his parents get no leeway with me. I didn’t exactly have a perfect childhood either, but I did learn enough about real life not to act like a “twat” as they say over here.

Along the way, we managed to find that wretched family. There they were, standing at a bus stop in the heat, sweating like the hogs they were. The entitled brat looked up and started to bolt for the fence, ready to lunge himself over. Which would be trespassing again.

I called out: “Hippity, hoppity! Stay off railway property!”

Gordon gave two short, very short, very poignant whistles as he blew on by them. Being around Gordon for so long, I began to learn what certain whistles meant depending on how the engine sounded them.

Gordon basically flipped that family the bird in the only way an engine could.

Considering what that kid nearly made Henry do yesterday, and the horror that entailed, I didn’t correct him on it. I only smiled.

And now, my mind turned to more important thoughts.

Like Brian’s leftovers in the cooler.

#r/entitledparents #Gordon #gordon the big engine #Henry #henry the green engine #Sir Handel #Island of Sodor #parody #silly fan fic #fanfiction #Thomas and Friends

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biointernet · 5 years ago

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Frank LaCavera and his hour glass collections

Frank LaCavera and his hour glass collections By PEOPLE STAFF June 05, 1989 12:00 PM Like the sands through the hourglass, so are the days of Frank J. LaCavera’s life. LaCavera, a 70ish retired electrical engineer, lives in Cleveland in a house that is filled with reminders of the temporal — more than 300 one-of-a-kind hourglasses that he has designed and made in the last 32 years. Each is set on a marble base with the hourglass in a wooden frame, and the whole is adorned with whimsical decoration. “I only do this stuff when inspired,” says LaCavera. “It’s like magic.”

Frank LaCavera hourglass Among the inspirations that became hourglasses are: Castle and Dragon, which includes a tiny steel dragon next to a tiny castle, set on a piece of amethyst, all inside a crystal ball; Pluto, with the hourglass perched atop a spaceship; and Ribs, which includes a plastic pig under glass, reclining in a centerfold pose. LaCavera took up his hobby when he was looking for an hourglass to decorate his study and found out that the closest thing he could buy in Cleveland was an egg timer, so he went into business for himself. He had to invent the machinery and instruments, including one to remove static electricity from inside the glass and another to determine the proper size of the hole between the two halves of the hourglass. (His hourglasses are accurate to 14 seconds an hour.) LaCavera has sold only a few hourglasses over the years (they run from $89 to $1,500), but he prefers to hang on to his work, which now fills the modest three-bedroom frame house he shares with wife Phyllis on the city’s west side. Phyllis thinks the world should see more of her husband’s hourglasses. “Work this beautiful,” she says, “should be out there where people can enjoy it.” Hourglass maker Frank LaCavera filling 12 of his hourglass bulbs w. sand as he prepares to time test each piece that he will use in his ornate hourglass creations at his workshop in home. (Photo by Taro Yamasaki/The LIFE Images Collection via Getty Images/Getty Images)

Frank LaCavera hourglass collections Frank LaCavera and his hour glass collections Lima News, The (Newspaper) - August 12, 1976, Lima, Ohio I lie jLiiua CLEVELAND (AP) Frank LaCavera is an hourglass master, one of the few in the world still making two-and three-foot hourglasses that can run from one to nine hours. His basement in his Cleveland home has become a collection of tubes, bottles, glass beads and other paraphernalia. He even has a small museum with a revolving stage and a curtain behind which is his handiwork. LaCavera said he became interested in mak- ing hourglasses, an instru- ment for measuring time Liquor to flow on Election Day Modern-day hourglass maker works for sentiment not money v" J mt Frank LaCavera considered expert in his hobby usually by the trickling of sand through a small open- ing, after he tried to buy one and discovered that stores only sold small ones used by housewives to make three-minute eggs., "When I saw how scarce they were, I thought I'd make them as a chal- he said Dr Warner Bundens Jr. president of the National Association of Watch and Clock Collectors Inc., said that "nobody else in the world is making modern hourglasses. I have one of LaCavera's originals at home. It's a 60-minute COLUMBUS, Ohio (AP) Starting with the November election, Ohio no longer will be a state where you can't buy a drink or a bottle of liquor on election day. A new law which takes effect Friday repeals the antiquated statute which shut down taverns, bars, and other liquor along with the state's monopoly retail voting hours. All will be open Nov. 2, including the state which in the past have given their employes the entire day off although bars and restaurants usually let the booze flow again an hour after polls closed, as the old law per- mitted. Rep John A Galbraith, R-69 Moumce, sponsored Ihe new law, calling the old one "archaic He said the days are gone when people "voted publicly and sat under the trees passing the jug around. No one tries to buy votes with whisky anymore." Galbraith got little help from his Republican colleagues as his bill squeaked through the Democratic House 55-39 and Senate 17-15 Restaurant and bar owners who claimed the law unfairly penalized their businesses lobbied for him, and may have helped convince Gov. James A. Rhodes who signed the repealer without comment. The 52-year-old Galbraith said despite the lobbying, the bill represented his "personal conviction that the old law was out of date Ohio was the only one of the 10 largest states which continued to have such a prohibition." Rep Alan E Norris, R-27 Westerville, whose hometown claims to be the "birthplace of prohibition" and remains dry. carried the House opposition. He said he felt simply that "people should be sober when they vote." He said it wasn't a moral issue with him, but felt the old law "was good for more than 100 years" and was needed to help protect the integrity of Ohio's election process. Frank LaCavera and his hour glass collections The election day liquor law is among five taking effect this week, 90 days after being signed into law by the governor. Other new laws: take away the authority of county and townships to enact zoning ordi- nances affecting oil and gas operations, per- mit senior citizens to take courses without credit or tuition at state universities when space permits; bring health district subsidies under _0hio Public Health Council regula- tions, and exempt delayed gram contracts held bv farmers from the state intangibles tax on stocks, bonds, and other securities. TECHNICIANS apply makeup and an ear plug to Sen. Walter Mondale, D-Minn.. prior to his ap- pearance on ABC's "Good Morning America" program Tuesday in Washington, D.C. Mondale is the Democratic vice presidential nominee. 'Beautiful river' helped young Ohio's economy By The Associated Press The Ohio River, "La Bel- le Riviere" or "the beautiful river" to the ear- ly French explorers, re- mains to this day a prime consideration in Ohio's transportation network but it has always been (he focus of Ohio history from the verv beginnings of the state, and even before Ohio was a state. The river always kept its prestige in competition with Lake Erie as a chan- nel of trade, and from its banks came some of the men and helped make the nation's greatness One of the first com- panies of the pioneer city Marietta was a shipyard The brig St Clair, built there, reached Cincinnati in April, 1801, and got as far as Cuba on that trip It demonstrated that the black walnut of the In the library there are papers showing that the Louisiana of Marietta, in 1805, visited New Orleans, Norfolk and Italy. Purchase of the Louisiana Territory swel- led the river trade as well Ohio yesteryear Muskingum Valley, a wood now almost priceless, could be combined with Marietta iron and rope to defy the Spanish grip on the trade of the Mis- sissippi. More than 100 such ships were soon produced at the mouth of the Muskingum. Carter recalled as pious preacher LOCK HAVEN, Pa "He knocked on doors asking people if they needed Jesus Christ as their per- sonal savior. He never breathed to us he was a politician." Mrs Robert Farwell was reminisc- ing about Jimmy Carter. She remembered him as the evangelist who eight years ago trumpeted Christianity in this central Penn- sylvania town. It was in 1968 that Carter visited the Lock Haven area as a member of a six-man team of Southern Baptist laymen attempting to start a second Baptist church. "He was the most humble and com- passionate man my husband and I ever met." Mrs Farwell, a widow of six months, said recently in a tele- phone interview. "He was a man who really loved the Lord Jesus Christ You could feel it every minute you were around him." The Baptist laymen remained two weeks, working in pairs and visiting 10 to 15 homes a day. Support for a se- cond Baptist parish grew and even- tually a new church was established. For a time the new congregation was led by a divinity student from Texas, but he left. A permanent pastor was never found and the con- gregation dissolved and the new church closed. "He always wore a business suit." recalled Mrs Farwell, who lives in Flemmgton, near Lock Haven. "We knew he was a distinguished person. as the volume of ship- building However, the em- bargo of 1807, caused by the war between Great Bri- tain and Napoleon, ruined the Ohio shipyards for a time. Four years after Robert Fulton invented the steam- boat, the first such craft was seen on the Ohio It was the New Orleans, built at Pittsburgh, which went down river in 1811. It had a speed of only 12 miles an hour, but that was enough to mark the beginning of the end for the flatboat and barge lines which had en- joyed all the trade until that time. The steamboats made travel safer and cheaper as well as faster, thus adding much to Ohio's growth and prosperity. Carolina dams lose to scenery WASHINGTON (AP) After a four-year legislative fight, a bill to save a scenic stretch of the New River in North Carolina from being inundated by power- generating dams is likely to win congressional approval this year. The House passed the bill Tuesday by a 311-73 vote and sent it to the Senate, which approved similar legislation jn the last Congress. President Ford has announced he would sign the bill. Every major environmental group in the country has backed the measure to save the 26.5-mile stretch "It looks like we will finally get it through this said Rep Ken Hechler. D-W.Va one of the long-time supporters of the New River legislation. The measure would bar the two-dam Blue Ridge Pro- ject of the Appalachian Power Co. The Federal Power Commission has approved the project but construction has been delayed by court appeals. Rep. Paul Simon, D-I11, who has taken a boat trip down the river, said it is a wonder of nature that should be preserved for posterity. "If any of you have a chance to take that trip, then I don't think you'll ever vote against this he told his colleagues. "God took 100 million years to create this river. Let's keep a power company from destroying Hechler said. He cited the statement by geologists that the river is the oldest in the Western Hemisphere.

Frank LaCavera and his hourglass collections https://people.com/archive/meet-hourglass-maker-frank-lacavera-one-retiree-who-knows-how-to-pass-the-time-vol-31-no-22/ https://www.gettyimages.com/photos/frank-lacavera?family=editorial&sort=mostpopular&phrase=frank%20lacavera https://newspaperarchive.com/lima-news-aug-12-1976-p-7/ Frank LaCavera and his hour glass collections