| May/June 1952

Mendon, Utah

I was working for the Lundahl Wagon Factory, who also built elevators. The boss said one warm day after dinner, 'Let's you and I go out to Petersboro and start up an elevator.' The trip led through the rich alfalfa, fields of the valley.

Along about three in the afternoon, a car drove up with my brother Lonn in it and a strange man somewhat heavy and strong-built. The man said, 'I'll bet you never heard of me --Chris Busch.' 'Chris,' T said, 'of Colton, Washington, Yes sir. We've corresponded for years.'

I arranged at once with the boss to get off for this day and the next as Chris and I had things to do. Chris and his family stayed in the Motel, nothwithstanding lodging with plain fare we offered. We looked over my relics and models.

Old Betsy seemed to intrigue Chris most. I said, 'I'll have Old Betsy fired up at six a. m. Be here and we'll go for a ride.'

A more typical June morning never was, as Chris approached and I pulled the cord on the Buckeye whistle. Two old steam threshermen were working up to a pitch of high tension. With 70 pounds of pressure I opened up the throttle and Betsy readily responded, with the old familiar sound of exhaust that only the Russell can produce.