Sam Moore

By now, most Rusty Iron fans have probably seen the video of the Fordson tractor and the Chevrolet car rigged up with spiral tubes instead of wheels to pull them through snow.

(If you’ve missed it, jump over to “Snow-Motors Inc. Conversion” and you can watch the entire film.)

However, there’s some misinformation on some sites where it’s claimed that the thing was invented by Henry Ford and that Ford himself is the tractor driver in the film.

Now for the truth about the snow gear and the film.

In the March 29, 1906, issue of The Automobile there was the following tidbit titled, “To the North Pole by Auto.” Under a dateline of March 26 from Minneapolis, the story reads:

A special to the New York Times says that Charles E.H. Burch and Frederick R. Burch, Minneapolis men, will attempt to reach the North Pole in an ice automobile of their own invention. The vehicle is supplied with all the comforts one might expect to have in a houseboat. The inventors have engaged in exploration in Alaska more than once, and it was for the purpose of making trips on the trackless wastes of Alaska in quest of mineral wealth that their idea was perfected and a working model was built.

After they had the vehicle in working order, the idea of a polar exploration suggested itself and the brothers announced that while their original plan was not to discover the pole there was no reason why they could not make the trip if the proper interest was shown in the expedition. They have the automobile in operation at Lake Calhoun, where it was inspected yesterday by interested residents of Minneapolis. It is built like a large streetcar and is heated by hot water. The Burch brothers assert that they have selected a route to the pole that is as sure as their means of locomotion is certain. They believe they will be able to obtain ample financial backing for the venture.

The Burch brothers were actually from Seattle, Wash., not Minneapolis, and Charles’ initials were E.S. and not E.H. as stated in the article. In 1901, Charles E.S. Burch was awarded a patent for what he called an “Ice Locomotive.” The patent drawing (see below) shows the huge “streetcar”-like contraption with which the Burch brothers proposed to reach the North Pole.

The 1922 patent that Fred Burch assigned to the Armstead Snow Motors Corp.

No further record of the proposed trip has surfaced. Both Frederick Cook (in 1908) and Robert Peary (1909) claimed to be first to reach the Pole; both claims are disputed. However, the Burch brothers did remain active in the snow vehicle field. In 1908, C.E.S. Burch received a patent for an “Automobile Sleigh,” a smaller machine shaped like a large automobile, with a pair of horizontal screws under the rear and a single, large, steerable ski at the front under the internal combustion engine.

In 1917, Fred Burch patented a small, open motorized vehicle with large drive drums around which the helical vanes were welded, and that more closely resembled the Fordson tractor in the film. Another patent was issued to Fred Burch in 1922 that improved upon his 1917 design and shows a small roadster-type automobile mounted on the drums. This patent was assigned by Burch to Armstead Snow Motors Inc., New York City, N.Y.

Armstead actually built the Fordson tractor and the Chevrolet car conversions shown in the film, which was a promotional piece put out by the Armstead firm. The tractor driver in the film is, of course, not Henry Ford.

The screw theory for propelling a vehicle over snow or ice wasn’t Charles Burch’s idea. William Harvey, Toronto, Canada, patented an “Ice or Snow Locomotive” in 1898, as did John and Nils Peterson in 1899. Both machines featured long, horizontal screws as drivers, as did many other snow vehicle patents over the first half of the 20th century. I even found a 1925 patent to convert an ordinary bicycle into a screw-driven snow vehicle. A runner was attached under each wheel, with the rear one containing rollers and gears that drove a trailing screw. As the bike was pedaled, the rollers were turned by the rear wheel, and in turn drove the gears that turned the screw and supposedly pushed the bike through the snow.

The idea isn’t dead by any means; here’s a video (courtesy YouTuber 01e9)  that shows a modern machine with the same drive screws that’s apparently made by ZIL for the Russian army.

It’s amazing what can be found in the archives of the U.S. Patent Office.

Sam Moore

Long ago, I saw an old rust-covered tractor for sale beside the road and immediately stopped.

Upon closer scrutiny, the derelict turned out to be a 1939 John Deere Model B, serial number 79014, equipped with steel rear wheels and rubber-tired fronts that still held a little air. The fenders, rare in this area, were in fair shape and the hood, although rusty, was straight and hadn’t been butchered around the muffler opening. The lower one-third of the grille halves were rusted out, but the WICO Model C magneto was there, and all the other bits and pieces seemed to be intact. The hand-start engine was loose and turned over easily. It was love at first sight, at least on my part, and I called the number listed on the sign.

The owner and I quickly agreed on a price (actually, he quoted a price and I agreed), and I was the proud owner of the forlorn little B. All I now had to do was get a non-running tractor with steel lug wheels onto my trailer for the ride home. At the time, I was a novice when it came to loading machinery and, while I had a trailer, I had no winch or come-along of any kind.

The B had a front hitch and one of my two running tractors, a 1948 John Deere BN, had a similar hitch, so I decided to make a short push bar to go between the two and then push the old B backward up the ramps and onto the trailer. It sounded simple enough (and I guess it was simple, as in simple-minded).

So one Saturday morning, I recruited the help of my friend Willy, loaded the BN and the push bar, and set out to retrieve my treasure. I parked the trailer beside the B and we connected the two tractors nose-to-nose with the 6-foot bar. Willy mounted the B and I manned the BN and, as the loading operation commenced, things seemed to be proceeding nicely.

I easily pulled the B into a position behind the trailer where it was roughly lined up with the ramps, although Willy was having trouble steering, since the tires were nearly flat and the steering gear badly needed lubrication. It was when I began to push the old tractor backward that the fun began.

The push bar didn’t work nearly as well as I’d expected, since it was virtually impossible to keep it straight. Willy was having a terrible time steering, but we finally got the rear wheels lined up and just at the bottom of the ramps. As soon as the lugs hit the ramps, the B came to a firm stop. Either the push bar would buckle or the BN would spin its wheels on the loose gravel, while the B refused to move. I then had a brilliant idea! I'd just take the BN around front and pull the B onto the trailer.

It quickly became apparent that the pickup truck was in the way and, since it never occurred to me to jack-knife the truck in relation to the trailer, we unhitched it. With jack stands under the rear of the trailer, and the jack under the tongue at the front, I reasoned that the trailer wouldn’t go anywhere and I could get a straight pull.

We started off bravely enough but, as the B started up the ramps, the trailer moved ahead off the jack stands and the weight of the tractor caused the trailer tongue to rise majestically into the air. Willy quickly abandoned the B and I sat there in disbelief, until the sheer idiocy of the whole thing struck us and we cracked up.

We hurriedly got the B off the ramps and the trailer back on the ground, meanwhile hoping no one had seen the fiasco. After borrowing a hand-lever-operated come-along from a friend back in town, we re-hitched the trailer, rigged up the hand operated cable winch, and began to work the hand lever.

It was heavy going; as each rear wheel lug hit the wooden ramps, it required all our muscle on the little hand winch to pull the weight of the tractor up and over the lug. We finally got the thing loaded and headed for home.

Willy and I swore each other to secrecy, but it’s too good a story not to tell. Besides, as someone once said: “Having good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from having bad judgment.”

At the turn of the century, the pace of life was much slower.

	Patent 588,361: Bicycle built for two patented by Benjamin F. Shurz, Marion, Ohio, Aug. 17, 1897.

Land mass transportation was by railroad trains, inter-urbans, stagecoach and such. There were no automobiles or buses.

Local transportation was limited to walking, horse or horse-and-buggy or bicycle. The bicycle was the most economical and efficient means of individual local transport.

Edward Huber lent a hand here. On Aug. 17, 1897, Benjamin F. Shurz, Marion, Ohio, was awarded a patent (No. 588,361) for his idea for a bicycle-built-for-two. On the application, he assigned a one-third interest to Edward Huber.

Frank Huber, Edward’s son, although employed with Huber’s other enterprises, had a cycle shop in which it is believed the Shurz bicycle was built and from which the cycle was marketed. This enterprise was successful in that it provided for the manufacture and sale of a bicycle built for two.

This was no ordinary bicycle. It was a bicycle built for two. Today we view a bicycle built for two as designed for tandem riding – one person riding directly behind the other. But with the Shurz design, the riders rode side by side.

This was a wonderful arrangement for a young man and his lady friend. They could ride together and converse as they rode. They had to be in no hurry, because wherever it was they were going was not as important as being together.

Riding side by side could have been a great opportunity for two business men to compare plans, discuss business opportunities or a change of course in their manufacturing operation. Besides, it would have given good friends a chance to just ride together in peace.

The author’s wife, Rosemary, with a bicycle built for two at Disney Boardwalk, Kissimmee, Fla. (Click the image for a larger version.)

The Shurz bicycle was not just two bicycles assembled together. Instead, it had a rather wide frame with wheels at the outside. There were, of course, two stations for riders, each having a steering apparatus and pedals. Power was delivered to the rear wheels via a roller chain. When turning, both front wheels turned, but the rider on the side in which they were turning had to stop pedaling to put that side of the contraption in a free wheeling mode. It was not equipped with a differential to let the inside wheel move at a slower pace than the outside wheel.

To my knowledge, none of these early Shurz/Huber bicycles exist. However, the design is in use yet today. All one has to do is to visit the Disney Boardwalk at Kissimmee, Fla. There one can rent bicycles built for two, four and six to pedal around the boardwalk.