In 1950 Ken Judkins, who had had a working life pre WWII with steam road traction, began a late career as a demonstrator for Thomas Hill of Rotherham. Thos. Hill was an agent for Sentinels of Shrewsbury and all were concerned in selling steam over diesel. Ken made an impact in this role, selling new steam locomotives to industrial concerns around Britain. He later became associated with Chasewater Railway and wrote a couple of books, a story from "My Life in Steam" (Oakwood Press, 1970) being reproduced below.
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| Ken Judkins at Chasewater Railway (Courtesy Chasewater News 1994) |
I will now conduct you as pilot off the main line of the Eastern Region of British Railways into the great sidings of Dorman Long & Co., of Middlesbrough, Lackenby Works, at that time their big new project. And so here we go on the footplate of my Sentinel, a 200 h.p. 35 ton, 4-cylinder simple, superheated engine, double geared, or more plainly, high and low gear plus three cut-off positions on the valve gear of steam admission to the cylinders) with a tractive effort of 17,920 lbs. in low gear and 9,650 lbs. in high gear, relative to load and gradient at an engine speed of 500 r.p.m. The maximum 600 r.p.m. gave somewhere about 35 m.p.h. in high gear and about 15 m.p.h. in low gear, again governed by load and gradient. The main type of locomotive I was to demonstrate against at this particular works was the 56-ton 6-coupled outside cylinder 18 1/2 inch type, so I had something on my platter to chew, and to give me much thought on how best to apply my particular finesse against these big industrial locomotives, which are quite capable of hauling along a similar load to a main line locomotive; but there is no main line locomotive that has to stand up to the hammering that these industrial fellows have to take, what with the nature of the work, the bad track, the continuous heavy loading, blasting their way flat out, and in many instances all kinds of drivers and firemen who have no mercy on any machine, and neglect as well. And so in due course I came along with my Sentinel installed on the duty roster, to take the place of those orthodox locomotives on their respective operation jobs, such as stripping-mill duty, slag ladle disposal, hot ingot run, feeding the steel conversion furnaces, iron ore furnace duty, and general marshalling duties for outgoing finished products and any- thing else on the duty roster.
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| Ken and "Demo" 200 H.P. locomotive at Consett Iron & Steel Co. ready to start up incline of about 1 in 60-37 to the coal staiths, with a train of about 370 tons. (Photo courtesy of Ken Judkins) |
The stripping mill duty in the main consisted of starting off at the ingot-pouring department or shop (of course there are various names for these particular departments, depending on which part of the country one is Now the usual operation is to couple up to a train of newly-poured ingots mounted on drags of bogies (again the name varies as to what steel works one is in). Incidentally this is one of the danger jobs, and by gum ruddy sweat and almost blood. One links up to about 350-450 tons made up of 4- or 6-ton ingots per bogie in their moulds, each 3 tons apiece, then the bogies weigh about 6 tons, and there is no spring draw gear or spring buffing gear; everything is direct dead link-up and dead buffing. So if a very small amount of molten metal splashed over when pouring onto the truck and got semi-set before being cleared, you can guess the thumping and snatching one has to do to move that lot. At times I have chucked over the reversing gear lever and given full steam almost until bolt heads have burst off on the cab sides, or snapped a coupling link of some 2 in. diameter, not to mention my ruddy dentures being shaken out onto the footplate in an effort to get the train of bogies moving. Then having done so, one must take the run to the stripping bay as quick as one can safely get there. In most instances three roads are laid into the bay, one centre and flanked either side with the other two.
Now the reason for the name "stripping" is that here the overhead cranes lift off or strip off the mould from the white hot ingots, leaving them stood on end on the bogies, to be taken on to another shop for whatever purpose. Assuming one is starting with an empty bay, one takes the run of loaded bogies down the centre track; one will then uncouple, run out, and set back through the switch to pick up a run of bogies with empty moulds on to take back to the ingot department, which are then set back onto the road from which the loaded train was picked up. Then one would switch over to the next road and couple up to another train of loaded moulds, and again after a hefty thump and snatch or two, away to the stripping bay, to run in on one of the side tracks. By this time probably most of the first run has been stripped, so on one side of you there are standing white hot ingots no more than 5 ft. away-no wonder my locomotive wanted a repaint after a few months of this sort of work at several steel works up and down the country. One would then pick up empty bogies off the No. 3 road, and away to the ingot bay again, and so repeat this the shift through.
But wait a minute, you haven't quite got the feel and heat of this job yet. There comes a time about twice in the shift when one of your runs with the loaded drags takes one down the centre road, with stripped ingots standing on either side of you. The first time I thought "surely they don't expect me to go down through that bl…y inferno," but it was so. I have on occasion been forced to stand behind the regulator and boiler in the centre of the footplate, with my overall smock pulled up over my head to protect my face, and drive in blind, just hanging on every second to pick out the blast of the shunter's whistle to tell me to stop; believe me, some hell of a job.
Of course one usually edged the loads in at about 2 m.p.h., but though escaping a lot of the heat, there was another main danger, that sometimes in the process of stripping the moulds the overhead crane driver has cause to lift the ingot and mould as one, a little distance up, then quickly drop it to shake loose the ingot, and bring it up and down a time or two. In this action an ingot can be toppled off the bogie, and should it fall over onto the empty rail tracks into which one is pushing the next full loaded train, and if the shunter does not give the locomotive driver an early enough warning whistle, you and your train can hit this, and by all the devils in hell it is some mighty thump (as I have said the only spring buffing gear is on the locomotive). It is just as though everything is about to disintegrate, because one cannot look out round the cab side to see things, or you are likely to get the very skin burnt off your face.
On one occasion I was pitched on my feet down alongside the boiler, out cold amongst the ruddy sanding gear lever, and in so doing the action of falling snatched my hand downward from the regulator, opening it full. Whilst I was cursing my lot and all the known and unknown fools that let me run into whatever it was, and extracting myself from the prone to the vertical position, the impact also lifted the safety valves and a flood of scalding water fell back onto the cab roof and the major part came through the roof ventilator to meet me as I was about to grab the regulator to shut off steam, as the engines were roaring away like the clappers. I would think that a good 1/8 inch of metal was taken off the wheel tyres, being in low gear. If this had been an orthodox locomotive it would have stopped its crank revolution, but most likely a cylinder-end cover or some other part would have gone for a "Burton," because something would need to have absorbed the shock of impact. However, I recovered myself without being too badly hurt, and in a few minutes after the crane driver had removed the offending ingot we continued our task.
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| Ken's 100 H.P. "Demo" locomotive on a series of demonstrations at one of many steelworks (Photo courtesy Sentinel & Thos. Hill) |
I was put to a test one day to see what tonnage could actually be moved with my type of locomotive, compared to the 18 1/2 inch 6-coupled 56-ton standard locomotive. So it was arranged for a loaded train of iron-ore waggons to be set in a particular siding, and the load was made up to 1,025 tons gross. The object of the test was to lift the train out of the siding through a set of point out onto the works main line on a somewhat ruling gradient of about 1 in 160, and when the whole train was clear of the points, to stop and reverse it back into the siding on one's own brake power if possible at the rear, in case any assistance was needed. Well, the afternoon arrived for this test, and I was instructed to stand by as the works locomotive was to take first lick. So the big Hudswell engine backed down onto the train, and was duly coupled up (of course all the "Brass Hats" were there to witness this grand display, including my own senior director). After a few minutes, to give the locomotive crew their chance to prepare themselves for the "great heave", at a signal between the traffic manager and the driver, the regulator was opened and a steady lurch gradually increased as each coupling took up its slack, until about two-thirds of the weight hung on the locomotive. Then all at once, one mighty roar as the driving wheels picked up, even though sand was laid. "Gosh," did that motion spin before the driver shut off! The exhaust blast was enough to snatch the fire bars through the tubes, never mind the fire. Eventually instruction was given for the driver to set back the train and "buff" up tight and get a spring-off start. This he did with much snatching of couplings and liberal sand; he managed to get the train on the move and gradually trundled off towards the set of points. I thought as I watched, "Well, if he gets half of that lot through the points (judging by the exhaust and lack of momentum at this point), then he will do well." I hadn't long to wait; here it was, about one-third of the train in the points and the resistance of the wheel flanges was too much, and away up the spout the exhaust blast went again, and driving wheels and couplings rods were one solid mass of spinning metal. That was it, the traffic manager judged; with some vicious thumping, the driver just about managed to get the train moving back down the grade and finally to bring it to a stand at the prescribed starting point with the assistance of the brakesman.
As I watched all this taking place from my own footplate, it was with some timidness that I eased the regulator of my locomotive at a signal of the traffic manager to take my place on that train. Not that I was feared that the locomotive would not prove itself, but the fact was that I had a mountain of sand to overcome on the rails already dropped, and here and there a slimy rail from the dribbling of water, etc., after the performance of the previous locomotive. However, on the track and coupled, a minute or two allowed to set the fire and collect my wits, then, "right away driver". This was it, I thought, and firmly eased the throttle. Thinks I, just about two minutes and I should have all the weight on the engine. If she holds her feet then at that moment, I'm halfway to arriving. There I was lifting the lot and gradually picking up speed; I was about to take it through the set of points and going well, thinks I to myself, "I'm on some clean rails. Now if I can get about 50 yards up the straight I'll just drop a teeney trickle of sand, give her a bit more steam, and just about then the weight of her will be in the swan-neck of the points and should my hunch work, I'm away." Boy oh boy, there I was, the danger past, and nicely building up to about 4 m.p.h., steaming beautifully, water in the glass exactly as I wanted it, notched back to about 45 per cent, the brake van well clear through the points and breasting the slight gradient. I was enjoying it, when on looking back down to the brakevan, there was much whistling and waving of stop signals, and so to bring the whole caboodle to a stand and propel it back into starting position again, which I did and brought all to rest. My own governor was the first to hop out onto the footplate and shake my hand: "Well done, Ken." I learned afterwards that the brakesman never had to use his brakes when I brought in the train of 1,025 ton gross, and up to then no Sentinel locomotive had hauled that load.
And so the days went on until I had fulfilled the various duty rosters. There was a duty which to me was very spectacular and I thought very awesome. On the night shift operation, the job consisted coupling up to a train of some 30 bogies of ingots "stripped", ready and marshalled to back on to, and away to travel some 4-5 miles, across the open moorland, to one of the Company's other works. Perhaps you can picture it, the night as black as black, a glow for a minute or so whilst a few shovels of coal set the fire for the run across the open country, now clear on the main, open up, notch back to 20 per cent, a bit more on the throttle, and now settle down to a steady 25 m.p.h. or so, everything purring over nicely. Then one steals a glance back over the cab side see for the first time this strange awesome sight snaking along behind you. What strange monster is this; one sees nothing in the dense blackness but just some grotesque white-hot fiery fingers searching upwards for what, one knows not. Now and again some will shudder or rock and sway as the track alters and twists as though alive.
My series of demonstrations of this Company's works secured some wonderful orders for the Sentinel geared steam locomotive, and even now that steam has given place to diesel the firm are still good customers I believe. During my period of steam demonstrations, firms were scrapping steam locomotives like mad, and getting bitten by the diesel bug. Yet I could go in and snatch the orders for steam from under their nose.
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| One of Ken's sales which still exists in Wales |
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