foot long 1904 Hendey toolmakers' lathe
that weighs at least 1500 pounds
into a basement, when the only conventional
entrance is a curving, wooden stairway
that probably isn't strong enough to support it?
When we first got it, in the early 1960s,
The Lathe was delivered fully assembled to our drafty,
detached, unheated garage by the crane-equipped
truck of the scrap dealer who had bought
the other "worn-out" machines from the place Dad worked. When
the truck driver heard our plans, he ventured the opinion
that we were all crazy.
Nevertheless, Dad began the next day to
disassembled it in the garage. When
most of the parts had been removed, Dad jacked the bed up,
put 2×4 cribbing under each end to hold the
legs off the floor, and unbolted them. They and the
rest of the "small" parts went down the stairs to the
basement.
Even stripped down, the bed was too heavy
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The head stock, powered by flat belt from the transmission
above it. The solid bar above the cone
pulley is an identifying mark of a Hendey.
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and too long to come down the stairway,
but Dad had a plan. He and I
lifted first one end of the bed and then the other,
removing one layer of cribbing at a time, lowering it
onto a cart made from an old pair of coaster wagon wheels.
He and Mother then rolled the bed on the cart
to the nearest basement window, a distance of
about 35 feet. By the time
they were half way there, the hard rubber tires
from the wagon were in shreds. By the time they reached
the window, there were no tires on the wheels.
After passing through
the basement window, which was no more than twelve inches high,
the bed descended a specially-built
ramp made of 4×4 lumber
with lath nailed to the top to keep it going straight.
I would estimate the angle of descent to have been about 20°.
Gravity assisted all the way, as Mother and Dad,
outside the window, held the
ropes to insure it didn't assist too much, and I stood by the ramp
and watched
to be sure the bed was staying on the track.
Once it reached the floor, the bed was rolled on pipes
across the cement laundry room floor, down the
one-inch step into the rest of the basement, and into place.
We then raised it on cribbing
so the legs could be reattached, and
Dad spent the next several months worth of spare
time cleaning, painting,
reassembling, hand-scraping the ways, and looking for a like-new
single-phase motor powerful enough to drive it.
The motor,
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The head stock and transmission. The quick-change gear box can be
seen below the cone pulley and tool tray; the electrical controls are
visible above the chuck.
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when he finally found one, was carried down the
basement stairs by my dad and my uncle. Watching as their
faces turned red and their eyes bulged out, I honestly
thought we were about
to lose both of them right then and there.
It finally all came together, though, and ran like
a champ if you didn't try to take too large a cut, in which case either
the flat belt would start slipping or the spindle would start jumping,
as the main bearing was a bit elliptical. Between the four-speed
transmission and the back-gear, it had eight spindle speeds,
from 20 to 660 R.P.M.
Over time, The Lathe
began to accumulate accessories, too: a face plate,
a nearly complete set of collets,
a steady rest for which Dad fashioned a set of maple jaws
when we lost a branch off one of our trees. My contribution was
an 18-inch piece of 6×6 timber with a wide cylindrical
notch in one side, suitable for
supporting the three-jaw chuck while it was being installed
or removed.
Never one to leave things as-is when improvements could be made,
Dad added a few modifications over time, too. He put a
lever on the motor to shift the brushes, which would, in theory,
reverse the motor. He
also added a thread-chasing dial, even though the carriage
on a Hendey
could be reversed without disengaging the half-nut.
Right from the beginning, The Lathe
proved to be a valuable asset. Among the projects were
parts for my
model railroad, "Nader lights" for our 1966 automobiles,
special tools for us to use at work, and twice it was used to make
modifications to a commercially-available thermocouple to make it
fit the old furnace in the house next door. We all marveled
that we
had ever been able to get by without The Lathe in the basement.
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The bed, hanging from a hand winch.
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Second question: How
do you get it out again?
Dad died in 1987, but The Lathe remained
in the basement, where it
was still used from time to time
by family and friends, myself included. It
was still there when Mother died in March of 2003.
Since none of the heirs could afford to keep the house,
and none had room for a major piece of metalworking machinery,
The Lathe was going to have to go, and the best
way we could think of to do so was to offer The Lathe and
its accessories free to whoever could
remove it. But who could
free our "Princess" from her dungeon?
After several missteps, the task
was given to a family friend who had experience moving
machinery and other heavy objects, and a respect for old
machine tools. Did I say old? Sorry,
I meant to say "classic."
This part of the story, I can only tell you second hand,
because I wasn't able to be there while any of the
moving was taking place, but I did make
frequent visits to the house
in the evenings, to photograph the progress
that had been made during the day.
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A skyhook. |
One key to the operation was the I-beam (left) running the length of
the basement, which in addition to
holding up the house was to serve as the lifting point for
much of the operation. The bottom of the beam is
somewhere around six feet from the floor. It
was anticipated that some of the lifts might actually
have to be made by pulleys hung from objects bolted to the
top of the beam.
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The Transporter, raised almost level with the window
out of which the bed is to go. |
The other major component was a "transporter," (right)
a flat-topped lift with wheels, designed and constructed
specifically for the job by our friend. It was designed
so its major parts could be carried
down the stairs and assembled in the basement.
Once the transporter was assembled,
two hand winches slung under the I-beam
were used to the lift lathe bed off the floor. The transporter
was rolled under the bed, and the bed was lowered
onto the flat platform on the top. From there, it
was rolled over to the window, and the platform
raised to be level with the bottom of the window.
Outside the window, a track made of
2×6's
laid end-to-end
would spread the weight of the bed as
it was moved to the waiting truck, so as not to make
a bad impression on the lawn.
Below are a few more of the pictures
taken on the same day as those above.
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The motor and transmission
hang from the ceiling, their mounting post dangling, with
the lathe bed, still on its legs, near by.
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The quick-change gear box and the rods and
lead screw that ran the length of the bed.
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Below,
the head stock on a two-wheel hand cart, ready
to be wheeled over
and taken up and around the stairway, one step at a time.
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Left, another view of the motor, transmission,
and electrical wiring.
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That's
a one-horsepower, 110-volt single-phase motor
with patent dates from 1914 and 1916 listed on a brass plate
affixed to its top.
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I returned the next evening to take more pictures,
and here are the signs of progress I found:
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Its legs now removed,
the bed has been lowered to the floor
and turned upside down so that eye
bolts may be screwed into the bolt
holes used to attached the legs.
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Another view of the same.
The Transporter stands nearby,
its platform
lowered, ready for the next day's load. One
corner of the
window can be seen in the upper right corner
of the picture.
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Once long ago,
a draftsman at Hendey inked his
compass, leaned over his drawing,
and in a matter of a few seconds drew two concentric arcs. Those same arcs can be seen here,
a hundred years later, in this pair of cast iron legs.
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Above, left,
various of the major parts, already moved up to the garage,
ready to be loaded onto the truck.
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By the time I got there the next evening, the lathe bed was gone,
with only two faint tracks in the lawn
outside the window showing where it had gone. . .
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