Twisting Wire
Missouri collector focuses on fence-making machines
By Oscar H. Will III
Did you ever look at a piece of woven hog fencing and wonder how it was made? How about wire-bound, wood-slat snow fence or wire-bound picket fence? Did you ever consider how the barbs get installed and twisted into barbed wire? Harold Eddy and son Alan, both of Slater, Mo., discovered answers to those questions when they found an odd-looking chain-driven device nearly a dozen years ago.
“We found our first fence-making machine in Mt. Pleasant (Iowa) at the swap meet,” Harold says with a smile. “It was in fair condition, but complete enough that I could recognize it for what it was.” Harold had seen a drawing of a similar device while doing patent research on one of his hundreds of other primitive farm tools.
“From my research, I knew that they were rare,” Harold says while turning the device's crank and neatly twisting a wooden picket between three pairs of wires. “You can use this tool to make barbed wire or smooth, twisted wire fencing, too.” As it turns out, that first fence-making machine needed very little work to get it operating. According to Alan, the most difficult part of the process was finding the correct chain, which is poured from molten material, not stamped.
It takes diligence and a great deal of patience to collect something so unusual, though, and it helps to have a keen eye. “Right away I wanted to find other fence machines, but I didn't really know where to look,” Harold explains with a chuckle. “So I just dug through every pile of junk I found at auctions, swap meets and flea markets, and eventually got lucky.” Harold's luck, and desire to share his knowledge, ensures that these wire-weaving mechanical wonders will not be forgotten.
Fencing fabric
By the time Harold found his second and third fence-making machines, he had made the conscious decision to build a diverse fence tool collection, including wire stretchers, post-hole diggers, fencing pliers and related devices. “I thought it would be fun to collect the range of early fencing tools,” Harold says, admitting he also thought such a collection would make an interesting and informative display at shows. “I like to exhibit something unusual so we can all learn something.”
When Harold learned of a five-day auction liquidating a private museum near Rocheport, Mo., he had no idea he would come home with a pair of fence-making machines. At the very least, he figured he would find a few interesting fence-stretching tools, and that's what happened. Then he saw a rusty heap of metal. “There was this pile of junk that was first offered for choice,” Harold explains. “I saw what I thought was the remains of a woven-wire machine in the pile, and I wanted it.” After Harold won the fence machine's remains, the auctioneer put the rest of the pile on the block as a unit. On a hunch, Harold bought the pile and discovered another wire-twisting machine buried within.
The junk pile prize that initially caught Harold's eye was a Kitselman Duplex Automatic Woven Wire Fence Machine. This ingenious device was designed to twist stay wires onto a number of longitudinal fence wires to produce a woven, wire-like fabric that could physically contain or exclude smaller animals with ease. According to patent papers filed on Aug. 28, 1898, this machine was actually an improvement on Alva Kitselman's original design that featured a new handle, wire gripper and propulsion mechanism. The machine was intended to install several stay wires simultaneously onto an existing wire fence and to weave wire netting – in the field.
“The Kitselman was completely frozen and the bottom was rusted off,” Alan recalls. “I worked on it for nearly five years before we could turn the crank.” Initially, he sprayed the piece with penetrating fluid and periodically tapped at it with a hammer in an attempt to loosen rusted fasteners. “I didn't want to break anything,” he adds, “but I did eventually apply a little heat, too.” Eventually, he got it apart and repaired the rusted-off frame, made a bobbin and, after a professional brazing job failed, carefully welded one of the gears. Alan's next challenge was to put the device back together, relying on little more than memory and lots of patience. “It took me a while to get it right,” he says. “But when it comes to figuring stuff out, I love the challenge.”
Once the Eddy men had completed the Kitselman's repair, they were eager to display the piece at local shows. It was just such a display that connected them with their fourth fence-making ma-chine. “I had the Kitselman at a show, and a man walked up to me and said he had a tool like that hanging on the corn crib wall,” Harold explains. “He invited me out to look, and I ended up buying it.”