Iron Man Of The Month

| March/April 1967



If I owned a certain model of a Geiser Engine it would have to be given to me, I couldn't make it I'm afraid it would be housed in a glass case with the builder's name and all its specifications hand-engraved on a golden plaque placed thereon. Oh yes, it would be oiled and lubricated and wiped free of every last vestige of whatever grime and coal smoke it might have accumulated in its short but spectacular career during its 'coming out season' at last year's reunions. But from here on out I would guarantee that not a speck of dust or solitary beard of wheat would be allowed to settle thereon, to otherwise blemish what I feel is 'the perfect engine model'.

What a horrid thought to wish upon young Russell Sams whose throttle fingers itch to yank levers, screw valves and jerk whistle cords on the beautiful half-size model of the 22-60 Geiser his father, Guy, made just for fun, and to show other model-builders what a model should look like.

'What kind is it? Who made it? Boy, isn't she a beauty?' exclaimed old-time engineers, their jaws dropping in amazement as they stepped off engine decks and congregated to see the shiny black and gold traction engine chuffing its way across the infield at Wauseon's 1966 National Thresher's Reunion. The figure of a young engineer rumped over the boiler back head, adjusting valve-gear and throttle as he inched the mechanical beauty in position for belting up to a tiny Baker Fan. The throttle latched imperceptibly back, the fly-wheel began turning, the Baker Fan whirring, while from the diminutive stack barked the sweetest, sharpest 'music' ever heard by the ear of an engineer. A tiny, over all ed figure sauntered up, whipped out a pack of Beechnut 'chawin' tobacco' and 'filled up', then mingled among the crowd of gawking, bug-eyed onlookers as if to get an ear-full of the praises and exclamations that were forthcoming.

The crowd edged in front of him, to get a better view. After all he seemed the least important figure around, when there was such a beautiful steam engine model to look at. And, could it be that 'impressive figures' just don't count where there's a crowd, anyway?

After watching awhile, the little overalled fellow, his mouth well-filled with 'leaf-scrap', stepped up to the finely-working little engine and began giving orders and making adjustments. The engine stack began barking ever the sharper, the tiny Baker Fan whirring ever the faster while the young engineer, stooped over the throttle, began smiling like a son, proud of his father.