Tuckahoe Show

firecracker’, not a whisper of a breeze nor a drop of rain the
whole three days. For the spectator at most exhibition grounds it
would have meant living on a frying pan, but not at Tuckahoe. Its
exhibit ground is laid out gracefully on a wooded site where a
small brook winds through lofty trees and where protective shade is
plentiful for exhibitors doing their thing and for the spectators
in the many camper units which crowded the parking area. Wisely,
the Association has realized the uniqueness of their home. Trees
have been spared the ax so commonly applied on so many show
grounds. The flea market, gas engine exhibits, the new community
pavilion, even the sawmills have been blended into the forest in a
random manner which invites a leisurely strole rather than a march
to cadence down military rows of aligned exhibits. Tuckahoe is
different.

The program said George Neal, President of the outfit, was going
to run the thing with the timing of a three-ring circus under the
big top.

Left to right: Bill Coppage, Ben Bright, Paul Secrist and Ross
Rodes check their  recent installation of a stationary engine
donated to the Tuckahoe Association by the late Jack Matthai

He tried, you have to give him that. About the only thing that
came off on time was raising the flag over the judges stand of the
beautiful new pavilion the first morning. Since the only way to the
judges’ roost was up a ladder for lack of getting around to
building the stairs, once up there to make announcements on the PA
system, George was in no position to prod exhibitors for punctual
performance. The slick paper program was a heady list of things
that would likely happen, but don’t hold your breath. Nobody
seemed the least interested what time Wilbur Engle started the
sawmill; they were over eating homemade crab cakes at the kitchen.
When the noon whistle blew (about 12:25) the eaters had gone over
to the flea market, steam buffs were scrounging wood and the gas
engine types were saying things mother used to wash your mouth out
for, when their engines failed to start. The last thing in the mind
of either cash customers or exhibitors was getting organized.

One event not on the program took place at 9:00 P.M. the night
before the show opened, when Ross Rhodes tooted the whistle
signaling the first head of steam in the system feeding the many
stationary engines of the new exhibition building. Ross, Bill
Coppage, Ben Bright, Paul Secrist and ‘boss man’ Tommy
Booze had spent the July 4th holiday putting the finishing touches
needed to connect the boiler they had salvaged from a laundry in
Annapolis. Topped by a 40 foot smoke stack the exhibit building
covers some 3000 square feet which is rapidly filling with
displays.

Having only recently found refuge at Tuckahoe it wheezed
erratically, vibrated constantly, giving the appearance of
operating on a par with the Tin Man in ‘The Wizard of Oz.’
Pete Lovelace, its major benefactor, found this delightful
mechanism in the confines of the Polytechnic Institute of Baltimore
where its more ornate brass fittings had already decamped. He
brought it to Tuckahoe, astutely concluding it was a rather unusual
engine. He’s right. Pete lays its less than silky smooth
operation (rough you might call it) to the lack of a condensor to
draw steam from its third and final cylinder. Maybe it doesn’t
like laundry steam. Speculation has it the contraption might have
been built as an engineering exercise by the Polytechnic students.
Any readers who know of its history or who might conjur up
methodology to make it run as smoothly as its neighbor, the
Corliss, please write Pete Lovelace care of the Association.
Spectators didn’t have to be told to stand back when Pete
applied laundry steam to his marine monster.

Gas buffs gather on the west bank of the steams at Tuckahoe.
There among the trees they send the resident squirrels scurrying to
chatter down on the put-puts which invade their territory a couple
of times a year. Fully a hundred engines of every size, make,
design, horsepower, end use and state of restoration showed up.
Clearly the name of the game is inspection of other exhibits by the
exhibitors. Random spectators are most welcome to enter the
conversation, ask questions, gawk wonderingly, speculate on living
conditions in the era demonstrated in the many end use displays.
Mary Zimmerman, operating her neatly restored Anchor brand washer
from a one lunger John Deere, elicited comment from passing Ms(s)
that women’s lib was long overdue. It was Wayne Haupt though,
who showed up with an 1830 lathe completely fabricated of wood and
foot powered who provided the contrast to demonstrate the utility
of the small gasoline engine to release both men and women from the
labor of everyday chores formerly done by human power. Water pumps,
a flour mill, garden tractors, washers, you name it, if it was
powered by a gas engine it was on display. Walking among the scores
of little engines that ‘could’ one’s mind conjurs the
countless little (and some big) firms dotting the nation in those
days each competing to improve the product or to offer options to
the buyer. It’s the epitome of the free enterprise system, now
passed. Over to the east against the wooded buffer strip along
Route 50 is the rally ground of the 25 or so internal combustion
engine powered tractors. Everything was in evidence from an old Oil
Pull to a couple that bring home the realization that contemporary
machines of one’s youth are now antiques.

Prominent among the tractors are, of course, John Deere two
lungers, a scattering of Hubers, Farmalls, McCormick-Deerings and
an array of one-of-a-kinds to keep one looking all day.
Interestingly, Fordson is grossly under-represented in proportion
to its population on the farms of yesteryear. Maybe they
weren’t well represented on the Shore back when. (That comment
should bring some letters.) At any rate when the tractor bunch
finally got going, which was to the despair of George Neal,
completely out of synchronization with the timing of the first
day’s parade, operators turned out to be of every age and
description. They had a ball, like so many water bugs on a mill
pond. The parade went round them, spectators photographed, rode
upon, helped crank, lugged two chains and water for, thoroughly
enjoying the confusion. Tuckahoe is different.

After three years of sitting forlornly out in the weather, the
big Corliss engine built in 1900 by Watts-Campbell was now under
roof. That 100 HP engine, after a near brush with the junkers,
escaped such a fate to be faithfully restored at Tuckahoe. Now
mounted on a base as massive as a long range artillery gun
emplacement, it chuffs away the hours reminiscent of its prior
service in a Millsboro, Delaware basket factory. Its setting is
such that visitors can ponder Mr. Corless’ ingenious but
complex valve linkage. Jack Matthai, a past Tuckahoe treasurer, had
provided in his will that a steam engine he had bought be brought
to the exhibit building, there to be mounted upon an appropriate
base as a memorial gift to Tuckahoe. It was ceremonially dedicated
Sunday afternoon during the show. Another fugitive from the junk
man which has taken asylum in the new exhibit building is a full
scale triple expansion marine engine.

Steam traction engines, lined up by ownership,  right to
left: Paul Singer, ? scale 9 HP case; Pete Shaffer, 8 HP Nichols
& Shepherd; Ross Rhodes, 14 HP Frick, 8 x 10; Wilbur Engle, 14
HP Frick, 8 x 10; Sam Fairbank, 18 HP New Huber;  Robert
Engle, 16-50 HP, TT Peerless; Paul Singer, 18 HP Keck Gonnerman;
Robert  Dean, 18 HP, U2 Peerless, 2 cyl. 6? 10; Howard Engle,
18 HP Frick, 9 x 10; Lee Engle, 28-80 HP Minneapolis, 10 x 10;
George Neal, 2 cyl. 7? 11 Nichols &  Shepherd 35.

Steam traction engines displaced the mule, but there are certain
characteristics of today’s traction engine owners which leave a
gut feeling that old long ears ain’t dead yet. Taking the
official photo of the 11 traction engines and their Tuckahoe member
owners brought this vividly to mind. First you have to get their
attention. This is done with a two-by-four smartly applied to a
mule. It is unacceptable practice to an independent minded owner of
a traction engine. They have to be bribed, wheedled, threatened,
scolded and otherwise abused to rally them to the cause and away
from the kitchen where Floyd Whirley was no help at all, dishing Up
coffee, homemade pancakes and sausage. The more pliable types had a
steam up early, wheeled around to where they thought the picture
should be taken, then back to the kitchen. Of course, that was the
wrong place for proper light for the picture. They had to be
retrieved. After an hour of this maneuvering, all 11 were lined up
hub to hub, right exposure to the morning sun, smoke properly
abated, owner standing by. George Neal had a smirk on his face, he
only had to bring his huge Nichols & Sheperd to the line up,
but had nothing to do with the rest of the logistics. By this time
he was enjoying watching somebody else trying to organize a short
dozen traction engine owners–rots of ruck. When the official
shutter snapped the third or fourth time, it had recorded a truly
remarkable array of engines from Paul Singer’s ? scale Case to
George’s mammoth N-S. The variety ranged through seven makes.
(Their specifications are listed in the caption to the attached
photograph.) It was a memorable occasion which the spectators
quickly appreciated with their cameras.

Having submitted to this much discipline, the owners then
resorted to form. They worked the big Baker fan, the hydraulic
dynamometer, the thresher or the sawmill as the occasion arose,
getting under the drive belt in any order that suited their fancy.
Blowing their whistle at the noon hour according to the program
seemed to be a matter of principle; they wouldn’t do it. Before
time, after time, anytime, OK but not on time. Entry in the parade
was also optional. George shouldn’t have been upset, my gosh
he’s one of them.

Occurring as it did in the midst of Maryland’s gas crunch,
it was appropriate to find the Eastern Shore Group, Neighborhood
Energy Corps, Maryland State Energy Policy Office with a booth
amidst the funnel cakes, beaten biscuits, homemade quilts and candy
of the old exhibit building. These six enthusiastic young people
were quick to point out that a local steam show conserves energy in
more ways than one. Susan Gray made an unofficial pole of attendees
which showed 75% of those present came from the Eastern Shore or
Anne Arundel County just over the Bay Bridge, a travel distance of
50 miles radius. This emphasized recreational fun doesn’t have
to mean long gas consuming drives. The renewed interest in steam,
dependent upon wood or coal, not imported oil came through as well.
The exchange between the old timers of the steam ranks with the
Energy Corps participants sharpened the thinking on both sides. Our
congratulations to Maryland’s Energy Policy Office for
providing the focus of the discussion.

 Friday night’s horsepull, though an hour late, was a
crowd pleaser of the first order. Held in the refreshing cool of
the evening it packed the stands, spilled out in camp chairs along
both sides of the track to a capacity audience which cheered
enthusiastically as the 8 teams tugged on the traces. It soon
became apparent that the show down was going to be between Wayne
More-land’s big black Percherons and Robert Anderson’s well
disciplined sorel Belgians. With the stone boat loaded to 8500
pounds, the contest ended with Anderson’s better coordinated
Belgians going 14 feet farther than Moreland’s heavier, barrel
chested, blacks. It was a show to the end.

The no-contest contest was the Cross-Cut-Sawing. One team of
lean muscled sawyers showed, bulging biceps, well honed saw and an
air of can-do about them. Any others who may have contemplated
entry thought better of it. With no competition evident the
champions gave a demonstration cutting through an oak log in
traditional style showing they were as good as they looked. They
picked up the prize and went home.

Marshall Wade, Chairman for Tuckahoe’s Flea Market said his
38 stalls for exhibitors were sold out with some backlog willing to
fill in if a participant cancelled. No wonder. A more delightful
site couldn’t be imagined than under the towering shade trees
in a quiet area where a buyer can browse to his heart’s
content. If you ever wondered how they ever sell all that stuff,
don’t worry about it. It seems that a big majority have been
coming to the show ever since it started. They trade amongst each
other when they see a bargain. Lee Smith, a dealer from
Federalsburg, Maryland for example, comes with a store of old hand
tools, but scoured the other exhibits to find the handle to a plane
he lacked. Now he has a saleable wood plane in working condition.
Mr. Wade says Tuckahoe has resisted the temptation to chop more
space out of the woods to make room for more exhibit stalls and
intends to continue the policy. A sound choice from the point of
view of exhibitors and buyers alike. The cool shade, walking on
woodland duff beats the heat, dust and confusion so common to many
places.

Leaving the grounds after three days of fun, food, educational
exhibits, friendly people, and thoughts of yesteryear, the goof on
the sign just added to the enjoyment of the informal atmosphere of
the show. It was evident that George Neal and all his helpers had
put their energy where it counted. In the last year they have added
a roomy pavilion where the Sunday worship service was held, an
imposing exhibit shed for the stationary engines, a line up of gas
engines to match any in the East. The working steam sawmill really
produces lumber for the buildings. Food with flavor is served by
people who care. The list goes on! Who cares if the sign is a bit
out of date, the events late. Certainly not the spectators. George,
please don’t get too organized. Tuckahoe is different–keep it
that way.