The Story of the Pullman Car

CHAPTER VIII

Chapter 81,317 wordsPublic domain

HOW THE CARS ARE MADE

In former chapters has been told the story of the birth of the Pullman car and its development through the various phases of its evolution. Generally speaking, this evolution for the first forty years was characterized chiefly by the addition, at one time or another, of certain inventions and improvements, such as the electric light and the vestibule, and by a changing style of interior decoration conforming to contemporary fashions. But at no time is recorded a change in the basic idea of car construction that can in any measure compare with the revolutionizing change which was recorded in 1908 by the construction of the first "all-steel" Pullman car.

For a number of years steel sills and under frames had furnished a staunch foundation for all cars manufactured by the Pullman Company for its operation. Further strengthened by steel vestibules, it is to be doubted if the all-steel car offered any very material increase in the safety already afforded to the passengers. But the change which the steel car brought in the process of manufacture was radical in the extreme. The first Pullman cars, and in fact every car up to and through the nineties, was of all-wood construction. Wood-making machinery filled the great shops at Pullman; carpenters and cabinet-makers numbered a big percentage of the pay roll. It was a wood-working industry. At one fell stroke the old order changed to the new. The songs of the band-saw and the planer were stilled and in their stead rose the metallic clamor of steam hammer and turret lathe, and the endless staccato reverberation of an army of riveters. Ponderous machines to bend, twist, or cut a bar or sheet of steel filled the vast workrooms. An army of steel workers, Titans of the past reborn to fulfill a modern destiny, fanned the flames in their furnaces and released the leash of sand blast, air hose, and gas flame.

But fascinating as unquestionably was the work of the patient artisans who inlaid the beflowered Eastlake Pullman or the Moorish cars of another day, there is equal romance in the product of the modern worker who builds these rolling hostelries of steel. Under the high glass roof the tumult of ponderous machines fills the air with pandemonium. At one side of one of the main aisles a half dozen great steel girders, like keels for giant ships, lie on the floor. These are the mighty box girders, eighty-one feet in length and weighing over nine tons each, which will form the backbone of future Pullmans. To each of these girders, or sills, are riveted plates, angles, and steel castings which extend the full length of the car and platforms, as well as floor beams, cross bearers, bolsters, and end sills of pressed steel. On this foundation the side sills are riveted, steel beams that run the entire length of the car.

When this gray mass of steel is finally riveted together with its coverplates, tieplates, and floorplates, the underframe of the car is completed--an almost indestructible foundation which alone weighs 27,365 pounds. On this underframe the superstructure or frame is erected to form the body of the car. This frame is composed of pressed steel posts and plates forming for each side a complete girder which would by itself alone carry the entire weight of the loaded car.

The roof deck is separately assembled, and as soon as the superstructure of the car is ready it is swung up by a crane and dropped into place. Like the rest of the car, the roof is of steel, braced and riveted to defy the greatest possible strains. The ends and vestibules are now built on, piece by piece, until the skeleton of the car is complete. The vestibules are particularly imposing, for on each side, framing the side doors through which the passengers enter the car, are giant beams of steel so built into the construction of the frame that only under most extraordinary circumstances could the force of a collision crush the vestibule or the car behind it.

The trucks which carry this tremendous burden of steel are marvels of strength and efficiency. Each of the two trucks has six steel wheels weighing nine hundred pounds apiece. Added to this is the weight of the three six hundred pound axles, the two steel castings which form the framework for the trucks together with the bolsters, springs, equalizers, and brake equipment--a total weight of 42,000 pounds for the trucks alone, contributed to the total weight of the car.

The car is now subjected to a thorough sand-blasting, a process that removes every particle of scale, grease, or dirt and leaves the steel in perfect condition to receive the first coat of paint and the insulation. To the passenger, the presence of the steel construction is apparent, but the insulation, which forms a vital factor in the car's construction, can be seen only during the process of building. Composed of a combination of cement, hair, and asbestos, this insulating material is packed into every cubic inch of space between the inner and outer shells of the roof and sides, forming a perfect non-conductor to protect the passengers against the biting cold of winter or the heat of summer sunshine. A similar cement preparation is next laid on the floor, combining the quality of a non-conductor of heat and cold with sanitary qualities invaluable as an aid in maintaining the cars in a strictly sanitary condition.

At this point in the construction the car is turned over to the steamfitters, plumbers, and electricians, who perform their work with the skill and dispatch bred of a long familiarity with the particular requirements of car construction. To see the Pullman car at this stage is to see a network of steam-pipes and electric conduit lacing in and out between the gaunt steel frame of the car, and everywhere the white plaster-like insulation packed into every cavity. As soon as these gangs of workmen have finished, other workers fit into place the interior panel plates, partitions, lockers, and seat frames, and the car instantly assumes a new and almost completed aspect. Meanwhile the painters have completed their work on the exterior of the car and begin the finer finish of the interior. Here coat upon coat is laid, and after each coat laborious rubbing to give the required finish. The graining, by which various woods are so faithfully imitated, is then applied, and last the varnishing.

The car is now completed with the exception of the fittings. A gang of men hang curtains in the doors and windows; the upholsterers contribute the carpets, cushions, mattresses, and blankets; the various little fixtures are added, and the car is finished. _Steel! Veritably!_ One man can trundle in a single wheelbarrow all the wood that has gone into its construction.

Rich Brewster green, the new paint gleaming in the sunlight, a long line of these seventy-ton steel mile-a-minute hostelries are waiting for the hour when the white-jacketed porters will open their doors in welcome to their first passengers. Above the windows the word "Pullman" in dull gold will carry from coast to coast the name of their founder. Below the windows is the name of the car, selected usually with local significance in consideration of the lines over which that particular car will operate.

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In a corner of the great yards at a track end stands a little yellow car, smaller than many of our interurban trolley cars, the paint peeling from the boards that have seen the changing seasons of half a century. It is old number "9," not the earliest, but one of the early Pullmans. Perhaps there are nights, when the roar of the machines is stilled, that the ghosts of a long-past day once again walk up and down the narrow aisles, strangers to the age of steel.