The Grasshopper
                                  and
                              The Corliss
                              _MILESTONES_
                       in the Mighty Age of Steam


    [Illustration: South Station which houses the Grasshopper locomotive
    in Carillon Park.]

South Station is a modest little building, representing in its style of
construction a typical railroad station in the days when the railroad
first came to the Miami Valley. However, its function is not to provide
a waiting place for passengers but to serve as the home of one of the
oldest locomotives still in existence. The miniature power house across
the way is much more modern in its construction. The Corliss engine
which has been re-erected in this building was in operation at NCR for
almost fifty years.

    [Illustration: The Corliss Engine Building has much the appearance
    of a small power house.]

    [Illustration: Grasshopper locomotive]

When James Watt gave the world the condensing steam engine in 1788 he
ushered in an era in man’s progress which brought with it the Industrial
Revolution and fundamental changes in our way of life. Steam has made
possible the development of our vast industries, our modern
transportation on land and on sea, and an immeasurable expansion of the
horizons of our daily life.

Two of the most far-reaching uses of the principle of production of
power through steam have been in transportation and in the generation of
electricity. In both instances the first steps toward the ultimate
achievement were crude and none too convincing, but they did lead to
further development and outstanding accomplishment.

After the discovery of the power of steam, man toyed with the idea of a
steam engine that could move itself. The implications of such an
invention were far reaching. The first steps were taken in England in
the early part of the nineteenth century and a locomotive which
successfully hauled a train of vehicles was built there in 1825. The
first American locomotive was the Tom Thumb built by Peter Cooper.

In a competition sponsored by the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, Phineas
Davis, a watchmaker of York, Pennsylvania, built a locomotive which was
referred to as the “grasshopper” type because of its appearance and the
up-and-down motion of its driving rods. This was really the first
successful steam railroad engine in this country.

Turning to the stationary steam engine for the production of direct
power and for generating electricity, we find that the greatest advance
in this field was the Corliss engine. This engine which incorporated new
principles of control and fuel economy was the invention of George H.
Corliss, a New England inventor who, as much as any other man, was
responsible for the development of the power facilities which have made
possible the industrialization of this nation.

The Grasshopper locomotive and the Corliss engine, each in its own way,
made a vital contribution to the development of America. Each is
included in the Carillon Park exhibits because it represents a
significant forward step in man’s constant quest for a better and fuller
life.

    [Illustration: Corliss engine]




                        Steam Comes to the Rails


    [Illustration: The famed “Atlantic” drawing early type railroad
    coaches in Baltimore and Ohio railroad exhibit. The “Atlantic” is
    original, the coaches replicas.]

The steam railroad represents an evolution unique in the story of man’s
progress. Its expansion from almost primitive beginnings unfolds one of
the epics of transport. Today’s network of steel rails is tribute to the
originality and persistency of courageous and far-seeing men.

Nowhere has the railroad undergone such a transformation as in the
United States. Although England stood in the van of locomotive
construction, American ingenuity perfected the most powerful type. From
an average of twelve to fourteen tons, the weight of the first
Grasshopper engine, they have expanded to the monsters of more than five
hundred tons. In 1840, a little more than a decade after the
incorporation of our first railroad, the total mileage in this country
was 2,810. Today the operated mileage is 398,000.

The real birth of the railroad, however, was in England. As in the
United States, tramways provided the predecessor. They were first
employed in the coal districts adjacent to Newcastle, to convey coal
from the pits to the River Tyne for shipment abroad.

The weakness in all the early British engines was that they could not
produce steam as rapidly as they used it up, nor did they have
sufficient power to move quickly, or pull more than their own weight. It
remained for George Stephenson to overcome these weaknesses and prove
the practicability of the movable steam locomotive. Stephenson, born in
1781, was the son of a fireman at the Wylam Colliery near Newcastle.
Stirred by the story of James Watt’s achievements in the domain of
steam, George enrolled in a night school to study mechanics.

Steam traction continued to absorb the attention of many British
inventors, so Stephenson turned to it. He constructed an engine called
“Blucher,” which made a successful trial run July 25, 1814.

George Stephenson was a persistent fellow. To his doggedness of purpose
we owe the beginning of the steam railroad. In 1822 he “sold,” as we
would say today, the directors of the Stockton & Darlington Railway,
which had planned to use horses on its trams, on the idea of using a
steam locomotive. He was appointed engineer of the road and given
authority to carry out his plans.

The age of railroading in this country began with the chartering in 1827
of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, the first road constructed in the
United States to carry passengers and freight. The first rails were laid
on July 4, 1828, with Charles Carroll, the only living signer of the
Declaration of Independence, turning over the first spadeful of dirt.
The first section of thirteen miles from Baltimore to Ellicott’s Mills
was opened in May, 1830. The man who jolted the Baltimore & Ohio
directors out of their horse fixation was the renowned Peter Cooper.

Cooper built a locomotive which he called Tom Thumb. The name was apt
because it was quite a small affair. In its construction he used odds
and ends of mechanical parts. The barrels of muskets, for example,
provided the tubes for the upright boiler.

The directors of the Baltimore & Ohio decided to have a competition. In
January, 1831, they advertised for locomotives to be entered in a series
of contests. They offered to give a $4,000 prize for the locomotive that
best met the test, and $3,500 for the second best engine.

Four engines entered the competition, one of which was built by Phineas
Davis, a watchmaker of York, Pennsylvania. The Davis entry fulfilled all
the requirements of the competition and won first prize. Soon after its
adoption the Baltimore & Ohio directors named that type of locomotive
the Grasshopper. This was due to its grasshopper-like construction. From
that parent engine sprang a fleet of Grasshoppers that operated for
nearly a century and made railroad history.

Phineas Davis and his partner, Gartner, now began to develop the
Grasshopper type. The next venture was the Atlantic which went into
service on the B & O in the summer of 1832. Once the Grasshoppers
demonstrated their utility, the steam locomotive idea spread rapidly.

The saga of the American Railroad is a stirring narrative of triumph
over obstacles. The road of the iron horse is part of the larger highway
over which progress has marched. In that drama of achievement the
Grasshopper locomotive played its full part. As such, it merits a niche
in the Transport Hall of Fame.




                   Old Locomotive No. 1 Finds a Home


  The Grasshopper locomotive now placed in Carillon Park chose to tell
  its own story of its origin, its experiences, its hopes, its fears and
  its present feeling. With the assistance of Lawrence W. Sagle of the B
  & O staff, Old No. 1 here tells its story.

Boy, what a relief to have your future definitely settled! Especially if
you have worked hard for 57 years, and then been pushed around for an
additional 55 years, fearful all the time that you may be cut up for
scrap. You can appreciate how I feel, now that I have a nice cozy home
here at Carillon Park in Dayton, Ohio.

What say? Oh, of course. Let me introduce myself. I am old Grasshopper
Locomotive No. 1. And the oldest original B & O locomotive in existence.
That, alone, is something to be proud of! And do I have a long and
colorful history? Let me tell you about some of its highlights.

I was built way back in July, 1835, one of a group of improved
grasshopper locomotives then being placed in service on the B & O. We
fellows were really good in those days. The old “Atlantic” and
“Traveller” had been retired the year before I was built. Just between
us, they weren’t much to speak of. We new engines, named for Presidents
of the United States and other great statesmen, could run rings around
them. I was proud to be named the “John Quincy Adams.” And there was the
“George Washington,” for instance. He led the parade of the first trains
into Washington, D. C., on August 25, 1835—and I was second in line—to
make railroad history. He finally ended his career out around Wheeling,
Va., in 1853. He had hauled rail cars down the line as the railroad was
pushed eastward to Roseby’s Rock, where the tracks were joined on
December 24, 1852. Good old George! I wish he could have lived to see me
now, snug as a bug in my new home.

You’ll have to pardon my ramblings. You know how we old fellows like to
look back and talk about the “good old days.”

Well, time passed, and then we were more or less pushed into the
background by the newer, more powerful locomotives that came along. I’ll
never forget the first Winan’s Camel. Gosh, what a fright he gave me! I
thought he would topple over and crush me. But I soon got used to those
big fellows. And then, in 1850, they took my distinguished name away
from me. Imagine how I felt being just plain No. 6, instead of “John
Quincy Adams.” But I kept on working as if nothing had happened although
I was no longer in main line service. I felt very diminutive compared to
the Mud-diggers and Camels. And in 1884, they changed me to No. 1. Well,
that was better! I was the oldest locomotive on the B & O. That was
something to be proud of, even then.

    [Illustration: The John Quincy Adams proudly bearing the number “1”
    bids goodbye to Mount Clare Station on eve of departure for Carillon
    Park.]

So things drifted along until there were only four of us left. There was
old “Andrew Jackson” (built in February, 1836), “John Hancock” (built in
April, 1836) and “Martin Van Buren” (built in November, 1836), all good,
stout fellows. All four of us were doing switching duty at the Mt. Clare
Shops in Baltimore. And, although we were numbered 1, 2, 3 and 4, when
in our stalls at night, we called each other by our old names. John,
Andy, Marty and I (they called me “J.Q.”) would talk far into the night
about the early days of the railroad and how little those newer, bigger
locomotives seemed to know—or care—about such things.

Well, sir, things drifted along until one day in 1892 a group of
distinguished men dropped around and looked us over. There was one
chatty old fellow with a goatee, who seemed to have some plans for our
future. I learned later that he was Major Pangborn, and what he did to
me shouldn’t have happened to a Mud-digger! He took us all into the
shop, worked on us for days and—of all things!—altered me to resemble
the “Traveller” and altered “Andy” to resemble the “Atlantic,” two old
boys that couldn’t pull your hat off in a mild windstorm! What a
come-down! But old “Marty” got the worst treatment of all. He was
altered to resemble that old “crab” locomotive, the “Mazeppa,” with
dummy horizontal cylinders and his beautiful grasshopper legs ripped
off. Oh, the ignominy of it all! John fared better than the rest of us.
He got a new coat of paint and a new name. They painted “Thomas
Jefferson” on his cab. That, in a way, was a sad blow to us also. Old
Tom had passed on in 1860, but we all remembered him fondly. We were a
confused lot of locomotives, I can tell you!

But we were not long in learning what it was all about. They loaded us
on some gondola cars—imagine the sensation of riding on a railroad car,
pulled by another, bigger locomotive, when, all of your lifetime had
been spent in pulling cars yourself—and for several days we travelled
over rails we had never seen before. Boy! What mountains and grades we
crossed. I doubt if I could have pushed a single car up some of them and
I admired greatly the brute strength of the big fellow on the head end
of our train and the one that pushed on the rear end.

We finally reached Chicago, and were placed on exhibition at the great
World’s Fair. Here the B & O was commended for its wonderful historical
display, and people by the thousands came and looked at us and made
remarks about how small we were compared to modern locomotives and went
away. We had our brief hour of glory, and after the show, they hauled us
back to Martinsburg and put us away to rust. Andy—I mean Atlantic—was
cleaned up and sent to the St. Louis Fair in 1904, where the B & O was
awarded a special gold medal for the most complete transportation
display, and then, in 1927, he and John were taken to the Fair of the
Iron Horse. Marty and I thought we were going to be in that show. They
brought us to Baltimore, but changed their minds about us. We were in
really bad shape! And when they sent the two of us to the Wicomico
Street scrap yards, my heart jumped right up on top of my crown sheet.
Surely, this was the end!

    [Illustration: Number 1 arrives in Dayton and is lifted from freight
    car to motor trailer for final trip to its permanent home.]

    [Illustration: The “Lafayette,” built in 1837, the first B & O
    engine with horizontal boiler and six wheels, began transition from
    vertical boiler type.]

But as the years dragged on, and we still sat on the siding, our upper
parts crated over, we displayed that kind of patience that only an old
locomotive is capable of as he sits for long tedious hours on the shop
track, waiting for the day when he will be fixed up and running again.
We did get a thrill of expectancy when we were moved to Bailey’s Museum,
but there we sat in a corner and nothing was done to fix us up. I was
ashamed when visitors saw me in such a condition. I would wince at the
remarks they made about our junky appearance. It was worse for Marty,
his beautiful grasshopper legs gone, and with those dummy tin cylinders
bolted to his frame to make him look like a “crab” locomotive. I’m
afraid that he is now a hopeless mental case.

    [Illustration: The “Camel” built by Ross Winans went into service in
    1848. This engine had no pony wheels. Altogether 122 were built for
    B & O.]

    [Illustration: This painting depicts the memorable scene, Christmas
    Eve in 1852 when Maryland and Ohio were first joined by rail.]

    [Illustration: Time table giving the schedule of the B & O in early
    days.]

One day in April, 1947, they hustled me to the Mt. Clare Shops. I was
completely bewildered. I didn’t recognize the old shops where I had been
built 112 years ago and where I had worked up to 1892. Everything was so
much larger, and the great machines and cranes! And those big
locomotives! Wow! Anyway, they began to work on me, and I soon realized
that I was being changed back to the way I looked in 1892, before Major
Pangborn had me changed to resemble (ugh!) the “Traveller.” Then, from
the conversations I overheard, I pieced out the story, which is
something like this:

Col. E. A. Deeds (there’s a nice man, if ever there was one, and
interested in preserving a good old locomotive!), Chairman of the Board
of The National Cash Register Company of Dayton, Ohio, was planning to
establish a museum in Carillon Park in that city. And one of the things
he needed was an old locomotive—and I was available and willing.

    [Illustration: The Baltimore & Ohio Depot in Washington in 1835 when
    first train entered the nation’s capital. This was an event of great
    importance and one in which old No. 1 proudly participated. The
    President of the United States witnessed the arrival of the
    cavalcade led by the “Atlantic.”]

So I was reconditioned and painted up until I could hardly believe 55
long years had passed. Then they pushed me out to the old Mt. Clare
Station and photographed me. Goodness me, how memories flooded back over
the years. The day, for instance, in 1835, when we lined up there before
that same station for the first trip into Washington, D. C. I surely did
feel proud, standing there having my picture taken.

    [Illustration: The Thomas Viaduct on the B & O between Baltimore and
    Washington spanning the Patapsco River is the oldest railroad stone
    viaduct in the world. Built in 1835, many said it would not even
    support the three-and-a-half-ton Grasshoppers. Yet it has never
    faltered under the heaviest of modern trains.]

So, once more I found myself on a gondola, riding in style over the
mountains to the West. And finally I reached Dayton on November 6. Then
the celebration began. A big crane lifted me, light as you please, out
of the car on to a heavy trailer that was used to haul me over to the
park. And who do you think was down at the siding to welcome me? None
other than Colonel Deeds, himself! And with him were Messrs. E. D.
Smith, NCR plant engineer; R. H. Hagerman, NCR traffic manager; Carl
Beust, head of NCR Patent Department; T. J. Klauenberg, B & O division
superintendent; C. P. Mabie, B & O division freight agent, and M. C.
Schwab, B & O freight agent. They were so pleased at my coming to town
that they had a big luncheon to celebrate, and my picture was in the
papers and everything.

And you should see the beautiful house they built for me at the Park. It
looks just like an old railroad station, except I am inside instead of
the passengers. It is built on part of the old railroad on the south
bank of the old Miami and Erie Canal. It’s a beautiful setting in which
to house an old locomotive as important as I am.

So, here I am, proud as a peacock in my new home. Come out and see me
sometime. I expect to be here for a long, long time. As long as America
is a great, free country—forever, I hope!

    [Illustration: The development of the locomotive has continued over
    the years to the giant Diesels of today. The “Memnon” was built in
    1848, and called the “Old War Horse” for its Civil War service.]

    [Illustration: This was the modern locomotive of 1896, built for
    fast passenger service between Philadelphia and Washington. It was
    designed by the superintendent of motive power of the B & O.]

    [Illustration: A modern steam locomotive used to haul fast
    merchandise freight trains in mountainous districts and for general
    freight road service. Built by Baldwin Locomotive Works in 1944.]

    [Illustration: Two-unit, 4,000-horsepower, Diesel-electric
    locomotive used for hauling heavy passenger trains. On the basis of
    performance the Diesel seems well on the way to replacing the steam
    locomotive.]

    [Illustration: Replica in miniature of the “Cincinnati,” first
    locomotive to pull a passenger train into Dayton on the old
    Cincinnati, Hamilton & Dayton Railroad, which later became part of
    the Baltimore & Ohio system.]




                            The “Cincinnati”


The “Cincinnati,” prototype of the replica in miniature on display in
Deeds Barn, was typical of the locomotives that in the 1850’s were
beginning to establish a new transportation network across Ohio and the
Middle West.

These locomotives and their successors were to doom the canal system
which played such an important role in development of the West. Although
the Miami and Erie Canal—which linked Dayton to Cincinnati and
Toledo—had its peak year in 1851 when the “Cincinnati” first steamed
into Dayton, canal operating expenses outran revenue only five years
later. In 1877, official operation of the canal ended. In the march of
progress, the railroad had won.

The “Cincinnati” was built by the Harkness firm of Cincinnati, and was
one of the most advanced locomotives of its day. Its honest
functionalism, as evidenced by the businesslike cow-catcher and the
monstrous stack designed to trap dangerous wood sparks, makes this type
of locomotive, called an “American,” a favorite with railroad fans.

How long the “Cincinnati” remained in service with the C. H. & D.
Railroad, and its ultimate fate are not known, but the colorful
locomotive and others of its kind made possible significant gains in
man’s never-ending quest for better transportation.




                      The Railroad Reaches Dayton


On January 27, 1851 the first locomotive to enter Dayton traveled over
the newly constructed road between Springfield and Dayton. Oddly,
enough, the event attracted no great attention.

    [Illustration: The clipping shows the passing comment made by the
    “Dayton Daily Empire.”]




                          DAYTON DAILY EMPIRE.


                 DANIEL G. SETON AND GEORGE W. CLASON.


                                DAYTON:


                   Monday Evening, January 27, 1851.


Safely Through.

The first Locomotive from Springfield to Dayton, passed over the
railroad connecting the two cities this morning. Mr. Osborne, the
Superintendent, and a small party of gentlemen from Springfield came
through. The connection at the “deep cut” was completed on Saturday, and
the trip this morning was made by way of trial. The entire line was
found to be in good running order, and the locomotive came through in
fine style. On Wednesday next, we learn, the first train will be run
from Springfield down, with the care intended far this section of the
road. It is also expected that a large party of our Springfield
neighbors will make us a call.—Have the arrangements been made to give
than a proper reception? It is time this matter was attended to. The
Dayton folks should likewise hold themselves in readiness to return the
visit. Let there be a “demonstration” on both sides worthy of the
occasion.

However, in September the same year when regular service began to
Cincinnati, the arrival of the first train was the occasion of quite a
memorable celebration. These illustrations show one of the first trains,
newspaper comment, program for the opening, and Dayton’s Union Station
of early days.

    [Illustration: This illustration shows one of the first trains to
    Cincinnati.]

    [Illustration: A newspaper account of the grand opening of the old
    Cincinnati, Hamilton & Dayton Railroad. The “Cincinnati” was the
    first of the trains to arrive in Dayton that day. Although “buried”
    deep in the article about the railroad’s opening, the bizarre
    accident that almost cost the life of the road’s president, S. S.
    L’Hommedieu, is probably one of the strangest in railroading
    history. According to later newspaper accounts, Mr. L’Hommedieu
    recovered from his injuries.]




                             DAYTON JOURNAL


                  TUESDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 23, 1851


Railroad Celebration.

The opening of the Cincinnati, Hamilton and Dayton Railroad, better
designated perhaps as the “Great Miami Railway,” which took place
yesterday, attracted thousands of people to Dayton from the surrounding
country. Business was in a great measure suspended, and crowds of
spectators on the line of the road were anxiously awaiting the arrival
of the trains from Cincinnati long before the hour fixed for their
coming. But we are anticipating.

In accordance with the arrangements, a train of cars with 500 passengers
left Dayton for Hamilton at quarter past 7, on Thursday morning. The
morning was exceedingly pleasant, the party in excellent spirit, a fine
road to pass over, and a most important event to commemorate. A ride of
two hours and a half through a beautiful country, brought the train to
Hamilton. As it passed into town, thousands were assembled to greet its
appearance, banners were stretched across the streets, having
appropriate inscriptions, and all wore the appearance of festivity and
rejoicing. Inspiring music, the thunder of artillery and the shouts of
the assembled multitude, made the scene one of thrilling interest and
excitement.

Our Hamilton friends had made ample preparations to refresh and
entertain their guests from Dayton as well as from Cincinnati.

While awaiting the arrival of the trains from the city, invitations were
freely tendered to our citizens by Hon. L. D. Campbell, Col. A. P.
Miller and others, to partake of their hospitalities. Many accepted the
invitations, and were entertained in the most munificent style.

The trains from Cincinnati having arrived, “the procession” was formed
and amidst the booming of the cannon and the shouts of the multitude,
the four locomotives, with nearly fifty cars in their trains, were soon
under way for Dayton. Proceeding at a moderate speed, all arrived safely
in Dayton at half past 2.

In accordance with the Programme, a procession was formed under the
direction of Col. Greer, Grand Marshal, which proceeded to the front of
the Court House, where the Mayor of the city, John Howard, Esq., in a
brief and appropriate speech extended a cordial welcome to our guests.
S. S. L’Hommedieu, Esq., the President of the Great Miami Railway,
responded in happy terms to the welcome of the Mayor.

The assembly separated for dinner, and all we believe were entertained
at public tables, or at the houses of our citizens.

Towards 4 o’clock, one of the trains started on the return, and by 5 two
others had departed. A locomotive with several cars, remained to take
such of our visitors as remained to spend the night in Dayton. All the
trains which left yesterday, safely reached the city and their arrival
there was telegraphed as soon as ascertained.


Serious Accidents.

A little girl fell through the railroad bridge yesterday morning, but
was not much injured by the fall.

A gentleman from Cincinnati, in endeavoring to climb upon the second
train while it was under way, had his foot caught by a wheel and badly
mutilated.

An Irishman in the employ of the Cincinnati Railroad Company, while
coming up the track last night in a hand car met with a serious
accident. While turning the crank, it broke and he was precipitated
forward with great force, and so much injured that his life is
considered in danger.


Accident to S. S. L’Hommedieu, Esq.

Just as the last train was leaving for Cincinnati, an accident occurred
which had well nigh proved fatal to S. S. L’Hommedieu, Esq., the
efficient President of the road now opened. The “Red Artillery” of
Cincinnati occupied the last car of the train, and were firing their
small gun as the train started. The muzzle of the piece was elevated,
the charge poured in, but luckily was not wadded. The piece was
depressed till about within range of the heads of the spectators, and
was fired in the midst of a hundred persons standing by. Mr. L’Hommedieu
was passing within a few feet of and directly in front of the cannon’s
mouth, as the match was applied. The principal part of the charge struck
his hat, but a part entered his face. He was prostrated by the
concussion, but was soon upon his feet again. He was immediately taken
in a buggy to the residence of E. W. Davies, Esq., and after a night of
quiet and repose was enabled to be about this morning. His eyes are much
inflamed, so that they cannot hear the light, and his face is filled
with powder. He left for Cincinnati in the train this morning. We hope
soon to hear of his entire recovery.

    [Illustration: Program for the opening]




                               PROGRAMME
                                 OF THE
                           RAIL ROAD OPENING
                               AT DAYTON,
                          SEPTEMBER 18, 1851.


The Dayton Artillery Squad will meet at Phillips’ Station, 15 minutes
before 6 o’clock A. M. and fire 10 rounds.

The squad will leave Dayton at 7 o’clock in company with citizens of
Dayton and other guests with the Saxe Horn Band, for Hamilton. The Squad
will fire five guns at each town the train passes.

On arriving in Hamilton, the Artillery Squad will fire 10 rounds, and
after reaching Hamilton they will be governed by the arrangements at
that place.

The order of firing after leaving Hamilton for Dayton, will be announced
to the different Artillery Squads before the trains depart from
Hamilton.

The Dayton Artillery Squad in the first train of cars on arriving at the
west end of the Miami Bridge will halt until the arrival of the other
trains, firing during the intervals and on the arrival of the other
trains. The Squad will then fire 10 rounds alternately with the “Red
Artillery of Cincinnati.”

The first train will then advance and halt at Main street at which place
the visitors with the Saxe Horn Band in front, will form in open order,
facing north.

The Second train, with S. M. L’Hommedieu, Esq., President of the
Cincinnati, Hamilton and Dayton Railway, with the Mayors and corporate
authorities of Cincinnati, Hamilton, Franklin, Middletown and
Miamisburg, and Ministers of the Gospel will advance to the point above
indicated.

J. D. Putnam, Esq., will receive President L’Hommedieu in an open
carriage. J. Howard, Esq., Mayor of Dayton, will receive the Mayors of
the places above named in an open carriage.

The carriages will form at the head of the procession.

The Ministers of the Gospel, and the Councils of the different cities
and towns, followed by the U.S. Brass Band from Newport, Ky.,—the
corporate authorities eight abreast.

The remainder of the visitors will then form in regular order.

The Cincinnati Band will take the centre of the line.

The Saxe Horn Band will bring up the rear.

While the line is formed the Bands will play, and the procession will
move to the Court House, where the reception address will be delivered
by James Howard, Esq., Mayor.

After the address and response, the Bands will play a national air; the
procession will again form and proceed to the Depot Ground, where a
collation will be provided.

                              By Order of the Committee of Arrangements,
                                JAMES GREER,
                                            Grand Marshal.

  Assistant Marshals.
  J. McDANIEL,
  C. L. VALLANDIGHAM
  CAPT. M. B. WALKER
  E. N. COMLY

    [Illustration: Dayton’s Union Station of early days.]




                           The Corliss Engine


    [Illustration: George H. Corliss

    Born in North Easton, Washington County, New York, George H. Corliss
    started out to work in a general store. At twenty-one he was the
    proprietor of his own store. It was an incident which happened there
    that set him forth on a career as an inventor. A customer complained
    of a pair of boots which ripped at the seams. Corliss thought there
    ought to be a better way to sew and in the process of trying to find
    it, invented a sewing machine in 1843, three years before Elias Howe
    received his patent. That was his first step as an inventor and it
    was followed by many other inventions.]

The Corliss steam engine improvements, at the time of their invention
and for many years thereafter, represented the most effective device
ever designed for economizing in the use of steam and regulating the
steadiness of a steam engine’s power and speed. These were essential
steps if man was to harness the power of steam and turn it to practical
use.

Before the advent of the Corliss engine, those engines which were
available were very wasteful in their use of fuel to produce steam and
its resultant power. They were also unable to maintain even speeds in
driving factory machinery and other units. This uneven flow of power was
a serious handicap to those who wanted to use steam to turn the wheels
of industry.

The secret of the efficiency of the Corliss engine lay in its most
distinctive feature ... the Corliss cut-off valve gear. The cut-off was
automatically controlled by the governor regardless of power variations
and without any slowing in speed. This was fundamentally responsible for
the Corliss’ efficiency and savings in fuel. So efficient was the engine
that the inventor often agreed to sell his product under an agreement
that the saving in fuel cost by the end of a certain period would be its
price. In one case, after the engine had run through the stated period
of two years, the purchaser was glad to pay twice the list price rather
than the much higher amount represented by actual savings.

The Corliss engine has played no small part in the development of Dayton
industry. Two such engines were used by The National Cash Register
Company for almost fifty years. One of these has been placed in Carillon
Park. In the next few pages this faithful worker for industrial progress
tells some of its experiences.

    [Illustration: Looking over the top of the Corliss engine as
    installed in the miniature power house in Carillon Park.]




                          The Story of My Life


  Personal reminiscences of the Corliss engine in Carillon Park,
  covering nearly fifty years of continuous service.

For quite awhile now, I have been sitting over here in Carillon Park and
I expect to go on doing that for some years to come. When you weigh a
couple of hundred tons you don’t move around any more than you have to
and once you find a good spot you are likely to “stay put.” Through the
windows of my comfortable little power house I look out at my neighbors
across the way. One of them is a Grasshopper locomotive which I can just
see through the windows of his “station.”

I haven’t actually met “Grasshopper” but I did learn not long ago that
he has written the story of his life. I wouldn’t go so far as to say
that he was “blowing off steam” but it does seem to me that if he has a
story to tell I should have one too. Of course, I know that size doesn’t
mean everything, but if you should weigh old “Grasshopper”—wheels, cab
and all—he wouldn’t weigh nearly as much as my flywheel. But I feel that
we do have several things in common ... we both know what it means to
get all steamed up and we have both done a lot of work in our day.

My friend “Grasshopper” has traveled quite a bit but I think he has
settled down now, just like me. They say that a rolling stone gathers no
moss and certainly “Grasshopper” is bright and shiny but I don’t believe
you will find much moss on me either.

    [Illustration: Part of the Corliss on its way to the NCR power house
    in 1902. Five teams were required to move it.]

My ancestry doesn’t go back quite as far as “Grasshopper’s” but the
difference is only about thirteen years, at that. He was born in 1835
and was the second generation of his family. True enough, I came along a
good many years later but my forefathers reach back to 1848, for in that
year the Corliss line was begun. In the following year, on March 10,
1849, Mr. George H. Corliss, a remarkable man whose name I bear, was
granted his first patent for steam engine improvements embodying his
famous “drop cut-off valve gear.” He had developed some new ideas about
steam engines, mostly about making them run steadier and on less coal.
Those ideas meant a lot to industry all over this country. Outside of
the teammate who worked next to me in the NCR power house for years, I
never met any of my brothers but I am sure they were all hard workers
who gave a good account of themselves.

Like anybody else, I don’t remember much about my birth. I was built in
Mount Vernon, Ohio, by the C. & G. Cooper Company, which manufactured
Corliss engines. My various pieces never really met until they all came
together in the NCR power house back there in 1902. As I remember, it
was a rather bumpy ride from the freight yards to the NCR factory but I
felt quite important. Who wouldn’t, with five teams of horses pulling
you along and people stopping to look at you all along the way. I gather
that I was considered quite a fellow in engine circles in those days and
I guess folks figured if the people at NCR went out and hired a big
engine like me to work for them business must be good and expected to
get better.

I really don’t know who figured out all the intricate variations in my
anatomy but I have heard that E. A. Deeds, who was an engineer at NCR in
those days, asked them to put in some special features which he thought
would make me better. Those ideas must have been all right, for I have
never known a sick day in my life. And for the record, let me say that I
was running full speed right up to the moment I was shut off, in 1948.
That had happened before when they made me stop to be looked over but
they always let me start up again. Glad I didn’t know what was happening
that day for I certainly had no idea of quitting, and I wouldn’t have
liked the idea a bit. Of course, I came out all right, but for a while
things looked pretty dark, I can tell you.

    [Illustration: The Corliss as it looked in the NCR power house in
    1902 where it functioned for almost fifty years with never a single
    failure.]

As a matter of fact, according to the story I have pieced together from
chance bits of conversation, I missed the scrap heap by just a hair. It
seems there was some idea of putting only my fly wheel in Carillon Park,
because they didn’t quite want to see me pass out altogether. Then one
day, Colonel Deeds got the idea of putting all of me over here. He said
there were not too many Corliss engines around and that we were getting
fewer every year. He figured that future generations ought to know what
we looked like, because we had done a good job. So, in the nick of time,
he saved me. Nick of time is right! It was a matter of hours. The scrap
man had already been out to look me over and I could almost feel the hot
breath of the acetylene torch eating right into me.

    [Illustration: On March 13, 1948, Colonel E. A. Deeds turned the
    control wheel which shut down the Corliss for the last time. It was
    an act which brought with it many memories for him because 46 years
    before he had turned that same wheel in the reverse direction for
    the first time and brought the Corliss to life.]

Now maybe before I go any further, I should tell you what I did for
almost fifty years at NCR. I really had two jobs: one to turn out
electric power and the other to heat the factory with my exhaust steam,
which you might say I did with my left hand. That’s one reason they
always liked me. I used a lot of coal—guess I’ve burned up about 175,000
tons in my day—but I never wasted it. I got just about as much out of a
ton of coal as I possibly could and then I did that extra job of heating
the factory with my exhaust steam for practically nothing.

    [Illustration: The Corliss moves again but this time one powerful
    motor truck with heavy-duty trailer is sufficient to do the job.]

I could tell you a lot about some of the things that happened during my
almost half century on the job. Of course I saw NCR grow up. When I went
to work in the power house there were just 5 buildings in the whole
plant. When they took me out I was amazed at how the place had changed.
I had seen some of the new buildings out the window but by no means all
of them. There are over 30 now. And what a lot more people there are! I
think there were about 2,000 in 1902 and now there are 15,000. Well, I
like to think I did my share in helping things along.

About eleven years after I started to work, a terrible thing happened to
Dayton. I am talking about the flood of 1913, and while I didn’t get
wet, I knew the situation was bad. You see, the water knocked out the
power houses downtown and my friends and I in the NCR power house had to
step in and take over. Of course we were glad to do it and those days
remain one of the great experiences of my life, but I wouldn’t want to
go through that again. Or see the fine people of Dayton go through it
either. Fortunately nobody needs to worry any more, for I understand
they have fixed up that flood business for good.

I know people don’t like too many figures, but I’d like to give you just
a few about myself. As you see me today, I weigh 210 tons. My flywheel
is twenty feet in diameter and weighs 38 tons. When I was working full
speed I turned out 800 kilowatts. According to people who should know
and who looked me over just before I moved over here, I was in just
about as good shape when I went out as when I went in. Give me a little
steam and my two old friends, Tom Monks and Ross Morgan, to look after
me and I’d be right back in business.

You know, there is an interesting point of difference between
Grasshopper’s experience and mine. He went onto the side track because
bigger and more powerful engines took his job away from him. Well up to
a point my experience was the same; the fellow who’s doing my job now is
certainly more powerful—about six times as strong—much as I hate to
admit it. But the funny part of it is, he’s a midget compared to me.
Naturally, I haven’t been back to the power house since I left, but they
tell me this fellow, whose name is Turbine, something or other, is
hardly more than a good-sized bump on the power house floor. He weighs
only one-fifth of what I do. Doesn’t seem possible that he can get more
done than I did, but I know times change, and I guess engines, like
everything else, change with them. Don’t think I’m critical; more power
to him. If things keep on growing around there, he’s going to need it.
But I just have a little hope way down deep, that once in a while
someone is going to look over that way and think back to the days when
they could see my old flywheel whirling around day and night, trying to
keep things going.

You know, when you have spent your life trying to do the right thing,
you like to feel that you have done a good job. Do you know the last
thing they said about me, just before I moved? This is part of the
Company’s records so it’s official and it’s something I’ll always
remember. Here it is: “This engine has given excellent service and no
power interruptions were ever experienced due to failure of this unit.”
That makes a fellow feel pretty good and being over here in Carillon
Park, looking shinier even than when I was on the job, makes me feel
good, too. I know I am going to meet a lot of fine people and I hope
they’ll enjoy coming in and looking me over. You know, I think that even
for a Corliss ... I’m a very lucky fellow.

    [Illustration: Corliss engine which furnished power for the
    Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia in 1876.]

    [Illustration: The Grasshopper locomotive in Carillon Park weighs
    about 28,900 pounds, cost probably $4,000, and had a theoretical
    tractive effort of 5,094 pounds.]

    [Illustration: A modern two-unit Diesel passenger locomotive, on the
    other hand, weighs 630,000 pounds, costs about $400,000, and has a
    starting tractive effort of 107,000 pounds. The Grasshopper’s top
    speed was 15 miles per hour, while most passenger Diesels are geared
    to about 90 to 100 miles per hour.]

    [Illustration: The Corliss was for many years the most efficient
    engine built, but the modern steam turbine gives much greater
    efficiency at lower cost. The Corliss engine in Carillon Park weighs
    210 tons. It occupied 950 square feet of floor area and its maximum
    output was 800 kilowatts.]

    [Illustration: The turbo-generator, which replaced it, weighs 44
    tons and occupies 200 square feet, but develops 5,000 kilowatts, or
    more than 25 times as much power per square foot of floor space as
    the Corliss.]


                             CARILLON PARK
                              DAYTON, OHIO

               One of a series of Carillon Park booklets.
                            Price ten cents.

                           PRINTED IN U.S.A.




                          Transcriber’s Notes


—Silently corrected a few typos.

—Retained publication information from the printed edition: this eBook
  is public-domain in the country of publication.

—In the text versions only, text in italics is delimited by
  _underscores_.