Figuring out more about figures

I’ve been happy enough with the cannery worker figures that I’ve continued to experiment with making figures over the last few weeks. Here’s a couple interesting observations.

Let the AI propose figures

The current workflow - I think of a description of a figure, let gemini.google.com draw a picture of a person based on that description, and I let tripo3d.ai turn the image into a 3d printer model - is pretty easy. Choosing which figures to make requires a little bit of care. What are suitable figures for my era and place? How do I describe someone in 1930’s clothing? How do I mix up my choices do I don’t have a bunch of similar figures?

As I was doing lots with the AI / large language models to create images, I realized that the generative AI systems are also good at analyzing photos too. So… we could also get the AI chatbot to propose a bunch of possible figures, and I could pick out the ones I want.

The AI chatbots work completely from text, so all I need is the right prompt. I ended up taking one of the photos of the workers at a cannery (such as the panoramic photo from California Canneries in Campbell. I dragged the photo into the chatbot at gemini.google.com, and gave it the following command:

Find the human figures in the attached photo from 1930’s California. For each person, write a four sentence physical description of the person that can serve as a prompt to generate a 3d figure of the person. Each description should start with "Create a front, side, and rear image of a human figure suitable for creating a 3d model of the person where the figure represents a person in 1930’s California. The figure is…" For each figure, the description should indicate details of body and face type: build, height, facial features, etc. inspired by the original photo The four-sentence description should also include a description of movement that would be appropriate for that person: either that the figure is walking (most figures should show some movement), perhaps carrying an item (personal item, fruit lug, tool, bag, appearing in a quarter of the figures), or indicate a reasonable pose for a normal person of the time. The description can also contain facial features or other details that might make the figure unique or animated. The output should be a sequence of description prompts that can be used later to create an image of the figure. Each description should contain a summary or label for the figure (“the lean plant mechanic”), followed by the four-sentence description in plaintext. Do not generate the images at this time.

Note that I started with a smaller prompt, but added detail and restrictions when the AI didn’t quite do what I wanted. For example, the gory detail about “show the output this way” happened because the chatbot would switch between giving textual output and just giving me a picture in a form I didn’t want. The comment about adding movement and animation was needed because otherwise the figures were all just standing with arms at their side.

Running that command on gemini.google.com quickly throws out three or four potential figure descriptions. Pasting those descriptions/prompts into Gemini generates nice images, sometimes with details or roles I hadn’t intended. I was particularly surprised when the chatbot started identifying potential roles.

Here’s a on example Gemini created:

The industrious cannery worker: Create a front, side, and rear image of a human figure suitable for creating a 3d model of the person where the figure represents a person in 1930’s California. The figure is a sturdy, broad-shouldered woman with a kind, experienced face and graying hair pulled back under a simple white head covering. She wears a long-sleeved dress covered by a practical, thick canvas apron, and she is holding a small metal fruit-sorting tool in one hand. The figure is posed standing upright with a slight forward lean, as if preparing to return to an assembly line.

and here's the image that Gemini created for that prompt. Don't ask me what the tool she's holding is.

Now, I don’t want to have figures done automatically: I still want to be choosing what kinds of figures match my era and setting, and what figures help tell the story. But automatically generating these is a neat way to get inspirations about what figures to do next, and give me options I might not have considered.

The most annoying part of AI is how the work doesn’t fit what usually keeps me focused. Each request to generate an image or generate a 3d model can take from 30 seconds to a few minutes. That’s annoying because it involves a bunch of waiting and often bumps me out of a flow state where I’m focused on work. The pauses encourage me to go off and do another task, and then by the time I come back, I’ve forgotten what stage I’m at with each image. Worse, the AI tools often do something screwy - producing images without a background, or disregarding part of the prompt, or generating an incorrect figure. Using the generating AI systems often feels like trying to get a teenager to help - sometimes it does really well, sometimes it misunderstands completely, and some times it does something stupid because it just wants to go play outside. A figure might be shown walking, but in different poses in the front and side images. Another figure may have odd details added, or might appear period-inappropriate.

Dealing with the 3d printing process ends up being in some ways easier. Taking each 3d model, adding support structures, and arranging multiple figures on the build platform is tedious work, but at least it’s constant work that keeps me engaged.

Painting

I’ve usually found painting figures taxing because it takes so long, because I’m not happy with my color choices, or because of delays waiting for paint to dry when painting a few figures.

My first big improvement was painting bigger groups of figures. I’d attach 10-20 figures to a strip of styrene, prime all the figures, then go down the line painting each color - flesh color first, then clothing, then hair (once faces had dried), then shoes, then hat.

For color choices, I started out this time writing down potential color choices for clothing, then made sure I had those colors on my pallette. Having the color ranges figured out meant that I had all my colors ready, and had ideas about variations to try ahead of time. I did one table of colors for the regular worker figures, and another for some of the unusual figures (such as management).

white, yellow

Clothing	Men workers	Women workers
shoes	brown, black	brown, black, tan
pants/dresses	tan, brown, black, blue, olive	yellow, white, light blue, dark blue, tan
shirts/aprons	white, blue, red check, tan
hat	brown, black, tan	white
hair	brown, black, yellow, white	brown, black, yellow, white
shoes	brown, black	brown, black, tan

All this sped up figure painting so I could do a large set in an evening.

Next steps

Once we’re doing figures of random folks, the next question is obviously “can we do figures of people we know?” I’ve also been doing a few figures based on friends. I’ll share some of those results another time.

3D Printing a Whole Shift of Cannery Workers

Back when I got my first resin 3d printer, I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what sorts of objects and models were worth printing. Full structures? Took too long, and I only needed one of each. Windows? Hard to print objects with open spaces and unsupported spans. Clutter? Good. Common freight cars? Good. My big lesson was that I wanted to 3d print objects that I needed a lot of, that were mostly a single blobby object, and had enough curvy detail that I couldn’t make them by hand.

One really good find was the idea of human figures. Model railroads do look better with some humans around to help encourage a sense of scale and make our imaginary world seem lived-in and occupied. Although many of the places on a model railroad might be remote and lonely, there’s also a bunch of places where the railroad intersects with lots of people.

Back in 2014, I wrote about some early experiments with figures. I’d just found that another maker, The Great Fredini, had taken a 3d scanning rig to maker faires on the east coast and scanned various faire goers. He’d uploaded the STL files to the Thingiverse, a site for sharing 3d models. These were wonderful models - they were detailed enough for HO figures, I could print lots of them, and the figures looked more American than our favorite fallback of Faller’s 1970s European figures.

The Great Fredini’s models did have one problem: they were all scans of modern, 2010 era people going to an exposition in hot east coast weather. Folks tended to be dressed informally and for hot weather. T-shirts and shorts were common. One of my favorite figures was a big barrel of a guy wearing a football jersey and giving a thumbs up. It’s a great figure for a contemporary layout, but it’s not quite Fred Astaire or Grapes of Wrath.

Some of the faces I wanted on my figures - from California Canneries employee photo, 1920s.

I was also very specific about the kinds of figures I wanted. For the Vasona Branch’s 1930’s setting, most of the people I’d see would be the workers going into and out of the canneries and packing houses. Both kinds of businesses hired hundreds of workers for the summer rush, and the workers would have been dressed in very 1930’s garb. Old photos and histories talk about lines of women walking into the cannery in dresses and white aprons, and coming out with aprons stained from fruit and tomatoes. Men unloading fruit and working in the warehouses would be dressed for hot and dirty weather. I also needed a bunch of variations of the figures - young and old, tall and short, portly and thin. None of the Great Fredini’s figures were appropriate for capturing these crowds.

I tried using a figure modeling program to create my own models, but wasn’t good at setting human poses nor could I figure out how to get 1930’s clothing on the models.

Finally Getting Unstuck

I almost got unstuck last year; at the NMRA Pacific Coast Region’s annual convention in San Luis Obispo, Michael Eldridge gave a talk on using some new 3d modeling software for making human figures. This program, Daz3D, was intended for graphic artists to create realistic human images for advertisements and other purposes. It would also do 3d models, allowed posing, and had a market for buying clothing designed by the company and others. This seemed like a decent solution. In practice, though, the learning curve was steep: I had to learn how to use the software, how to pose a figure, how to get period-appropriate clothing models, and turn it into a solid “watertight” 3d model. This turned out to be beyond my ability for the time I was willing to devote to the project. Posing didn’t come naturally to me, and the 3d model machinations to turn the figures into a printable model required too much knowledge of the cryptic Blender 3d modeling tool. One particular problem was that clothing was treated as an infinitely thin separate object, so combining the figure and clothing into a single solid figure required significant 3d modeling knowledge I didn’t have. I put the project aside again.

Luckily, at this year’s PCR convention, Michael gave a new clinic using new AI tools to make 3d figures. Michael’s new approach got rid of most of the learning curve. Rather than using CAD-like figure software to create a human 3d model, Michael showed a much simpler approach: using some of the generative AI tools (ChatGPT, Gemini, Claude, etc) to generate pictures of a correctly dressed and posed figure, then using a commercial website called tripo3d.ai to create a 3d model from the figure. This approach didn’t require 3d modeling skill at all, but just having one or more photos of the figure to be created; the software inferred anything else it needed (like what a human back looked like), and it would generate a decent model for 3d printing. Yay!

Making a Figure

The first step is to generate a 2d image of the figure; these can be reference sheet images (aka an artist’s drawing of front, side, top, and bottoms of the figure as might be used to get approval from a client for an image or character), or simply a front and side view. These can be generated by the free AI tools such as Google’s Gemini from just an english description of what you want.

For example, you can go to gemini.google.com and type:

Can you generate a reference sheet image for a 3d figure of a middle-aged 1930’s woman in a knee length dress and apron with a nurses cap waling with a small step and without a base under the figure

I got the following, though the form of the image varies wildly on every run.

Generative AI tools are weird - they can generate different results every time, so the figure I generate today from a prompt will certainly not match what I get tomorrow. I added the clause about the “no base under figure” because a previous time I ran it, the figures would often be placed on a circular base. My tests yesterday also made reference images with a slightly different format, and always listed a “drawn by” with a name that I assume was completely made up. Weird.You can put in a different prompt and get another image, demand changes, etc. Note that all the captions and labels won’t matter- the 3d figure generating software seems to ignore it.

Michael had suggested the reference image, but I started asking just for a front and side view - that seemed to be sufficient for the later steps, and was much easier to check over.

For example, type the following into gemini.google.com:

Can you make a front and side image for a 3d model of a 1930’s workman with a thin build and dressed for warmer California weather, and have the figure walking briskly

I got this from that prompt and description.

Male cannery worker figure created from prompt.

Great! So now as long as can type an English description, I can make a figure!

Next step is the 3d model. Michael Eldridge and others suggested tripo3d.ai , a paid service with a $20/month plan that allows you to create models for 60 figures a month or so without paying more. (Signing up for a plan is a challenge - make sure you’re getting the monthly plan. Supposedly, you can use a free plan if you choose to render the 3d figure using their older AI system.) I went to the 3d workspace page ( https://studio.tripo3d.ai/workspace/generate ) , and dragged the front/side view into the “upload” box on the left . I then pressed the “Generate multi views” button just below the image - this automatically splits the front and side view into separate reference images for the model making. Finally, I pressed the “generate model” button at the bottom left to start the process of making the 3d model. It takes about 3 minutes. When the image is generated, I could then go to the "list of assets" to see the model and select it for exporting. (Careful - the models don’t show up in Safari. I had to use the Chrome browser on a Mac to see the model on the tripo3d.ai site.)

Now that I’d downloaded a 3d model as an STL file, I treated it like any other 3d model - I brought it into my 3d program’s slicer program, added a support structure to hold the object when printing and support arms and other overhanging parts of the model, then set up a print job with that figure. The worst part was making a support structure that supported the right parts of the figure, but were easy to cut off. After a quick 3d print, I had my figure printed. The software complained about bugs in the 3d model, but I see those even with the models I create in SketchUp - the slicing software was able to fix the flaws itself just fine.

I ended up doing ten figures from seven models, mirroring the walking figures for variation. I also made multiple prints of each figure, adjusting the scale of each to vary heights. After a bit of printing, I had around 100 figures done, printed in ten minutes on the newer printer.

I’m using this crowd of figures for the workers walking into or out of the canneries and packing houses - I needed a mob of figures, and I needed figures that looked like cannery workers and looked 1930s-like. (See if you can guess the prompt for each.). This workflow gave me the figures I needed, and got it done in essentially one long day.

First set of cannery worker figure designs.

result

I’m very, very happy with this process. With a day or so of work, I had a half dozen figure models, and had 3d-printed the first round of figures. There’s still a fair amount of hand work required to make these figures: setting up the printer, removing and cleaning the printed figures, removing support structure and cleaning up the figure, curing the figure in UV light, then priming the figures. Painting the figures is probably the most time-consuming part of the whole process; I’ve been gluing a dozen or twenty figures to a strip of styrene and going down the line assembly-line fashion. All that’s worth it to me to be able to have some figures that match my era and setting.

Figures arranged for painting

The neat thing about the figures and the 3d software is how easy it was compared to handcrafted models for freight cars. Most human figures that we try doing with the AI tools method take very little thought about how to make something printable; the figures are all sort of blobby, continuous single models that print efficiently. There's not a lot of overhangs or separate pieces to make us have to think about what direction to print the figures, or whether the model can be printed successfully. The software also doesn’t need perfect information; it already knows what a human arm or back looks like, so it can infer something reasonable that isn’t well-specified in the input image. The most challenging part, honestly, was just figuring out support for things like arms and hands so they'd print decently, and then just dealing with printing and cleaning up the figures.

Compared to the commercial figures, the models generated by AI are interesting. They’ve got a surprising amount of detail, such as exaggerated shoes or rolled-up sleeves that both looks good on the model and 3d prints well. The resulting parts remind me more of 1970's O-scale white metal figures cast in rubber molds than the Faller injection-molded figures.

Bags of figures from first day of 3d printing cannery workers. I've got a lot of painting to do.

As I was writing this, I looked back at my past adventures with figures in 2014, and got reminded how much the 3d printing world had changed. Back then, my Form One printer could print nine figures at a time in about 90 minutes - the software had a problem processing more 3d models in the slicing software, and the Form One’s slow movements of the laser beam with galvanometer mirrors meant the 3d printing was slow. With the Anycubic Photon printer and a modern computer, I was able to print 80 figures in 10 minutes because of the faster UV screen that can expose an entire layer of resin at one time. That’s also with a printer that’s one-tenth the cost of the original Form One. It’s really gotten to a point where any modeler can be mass-producing 3d parts.

3D Printing Again

I love that feeling when a project finally satisfies some itch I’ve had for years.

I’ve talked about 3d printing a lot on this blog over the years. I’d been an early adopter of using 3d printing in model railroading. Around 2009, I bought one of the early FDM (“squirt out strand of plastic”) printers, the “Makerbot Cupcake”, named for the fact that it could print an object the size of a cupcake. I loved the sense of being able to sketch a design, then turn it into a real object, but found the resulting objects were coarse - good enough for say a coat-hook or a pocket for holding a DCC throttle, but less good for scale parts.

In 2014, a company called Form Labs started selling a stereolithography-based printer. Their printer used a laser to harden a layer of photosensitive resin in a glass-bottom tank. The printer would then lift up the partially-completed piece above the tank bottom and repeat by curing another layer of resin, slowly pulling the completed part out of the resin-filled tank. Other companies had been selling printers with a similar mechanism for commercial purposes in the past, but all were much too pricey for the typical hobbyist. Formlabs appeared just as the original patents on stereolithography were expiring, allowing them to make a similar printer at prices a regular person might be able to afford.

The Form One printer was amazing; it could produce models that were close to injection-molded quality. I found it great for making detail parts, and even managed to print some HO railroad cars - flat cars, the Hart gondolas, the Harriman passenger cars, and a bunch of other stuff. The Form One printer was truly magical; I loved being able to think of a project, and suddenly have dozens or hundreds of a part. It wasn’t the fastest; most of the freight cars took several hours to create, and even detail parts could take an hour or two.

The Form One was also really cute. A little bigger than one of the original Macintoshes, it just looked really cool with its retro orange plexiglass box keeping UV out of the resin tank and curved aluminum case looking a bit more like a 1970’s Braun kitchen appliance than a 3d printer. The folks designing it also had done a beautiful job with industrial design - easy to open and pull out the build platform, easy to send the model from the computer to the printer, and a single button for start and pause.

Beyond my personal project, the Form One also seemed like a great way to share the freight cars that otherwise weren’t available commercially. For a while, I was selling the Hart gondolas, and managed to sell a bit less than a hundred of them, with occasional folks still asking about getting a model. Manufacturing my own model railroad items was an eye-opening project; I loved making these real, but I got some hard lessons on fixed costs for a new product (pilot model, boxes) and challenges for quality when I was making one or two freight cars a day. The technology also had its temperamental moments. The Form One could have print problems because of dust in the optics or resin sticking to the tank bottom. Having only a single printer also made it hard to diagnose problems - I couldn’t just test on a different printer to narrow down causes. A couple hiccups hit just as I was trying to sell a second model, resulting in a bunch of freight car bodies that were too rough to sell where I couldn’t diagnose the cause of the problem.

Ever since then in 2017, I’ve occasionally gone back to 3d printing, but various life issues - work pressures, elder care, printer misbehaving - kept me from making much progress with it. I’ve occasionally hauled the printer out and run some test prints on it, but the effort needed to adjust it and getting it working reliably was too much.

Back to 3d Printing

Form One and Anycubic Photon sitting next to each other.

Meanwhile, another set of companies have been making FDM printers in the intervening ten years. Two Chinese companies - Anycubic and Elegoo - have been selling cheaper printers. They’ve been experimenting with different ways to harden the resin (LCD screens rather than lasers), different sizes, different methods for getting the resin to detach from the tank. I’ve heard stories from friends trying these printers, generally with decent results. "When life calms down," I kept telling myself, "I really need to to check these out."

Luckily, life’s calmed down on several fronts in recent months, and I’ve got more free time. With the threat of tariffs raising prices, it seemed like a good time to try one of these printers out. Because the Form One had always been a bit too small to print 40 foot cars in easy ways, I decided to go with one of the larger printers - the Anycubic Photon Mono M7.

Verdict? Wow.

A dozen Battleship gondolas, all printed in a couple days.

Battleship gondolas in detail. These are at least as good as the Form One prints when that printer was at its best.

It's been pretty magical and fun. I started off printing various simple parts I'd designed in the past, but quickly threw something challenging at it: one of the Battleship gondolas. I'd done the model for these early steel freight cars back in 2017, but never could get them to print reliably as the Form One aged - print quality was poor, and at best I could print a single car overnight. (To be precise, the Battleships took 5 hours on the Form One.) With the new Anycubic Photon, I found I could print three cars at a time, and they'd complete an a bit more than an hour. This is what I’d intended 3d printing to be like - being able to print fast enough to build up a stock to sell. Within a couple days, I had a dozen car bodies ready. I found the quality of the cars as good or better than the Form One at its best, and the speed and yield was good enough so that I could do mass production if I really wanted to.

Anycubic vs. Form One

So far I've been really happy with the Anycubic Photon, but it's been hard not to compare it to the Form One. The speed, print quality, and volume printed are all great. One really nice feature of the Anycubic Photon is that I can use the whole print surface. On the Form One, each layer of the part was detached from the tank bottom by hinging the tank and swinging it down and away. This was a decent method, but meant that peeling forces on the part closer to the hinge were lower than the forces of the tank pulling away from the far side of the tank. As a result, particularly big or delicate models really needed to print close to the hinge to avoid portions of the part breaking off and sticking to the tank. I found myself only ever using about half the available print surface to avoid failed prints. On the Anycubic Photon, a springy clear sheet is used for the tank bottom; to detach the part, the build platform raises vertically, causing the sheet to stretch up and peel off. This different peeling process means I'm able to print larger objects and print across the whole tank without problems.

There's also been some drawbacks to the Anycubic Photon. The photosensitive resins used by both printers aren't particularly nice chemicals, but the resin provided by Formlabs had a lot less odor. I'd been able to operate the printer inside the house - particularly handy when the printer needed a clean, warm, dust-free space to avoid messing up the optics for the laser. Anycubic's resins have a much more overpowering odor, probably not helped by the printer heating the resin up to 35'C for better curing. Though the odor isn't a good proxy for safe vs. not safe, the stronger fumes definitely make me cautious about potentially dangerous fumes. It definitely doesn't feel safe to be in the same room as the printer when it's operating. FormLabs argues that some vendors' resins contain more toxic base chemicals which might explain the differences. Ventilation systems are available to route the fumes outside; I'm looking forward to trying one of these. The Anycubic printer's LED screen used for curing also is less affected by dust, so it may be reasonable to just banish the printer to the garage.

I've also found it fun to spot the differences in industrial design. The Form One was much better for retrieving parts. The hinged lid could easily be opened and closed one-handed - helpful when the other hand was trying to pull out a build platform with a just-made print still dripping resin. The Anycubic Photon has an acrylic cover that fits over the tank and build platform, but removing the cover requires two hands and a place to put the shell temporarily. The Photon's build platform also gets fully submurged during operation, causing resin to pool on top of the buld platform. This resin spills or drips whenever the build platform and part are removed from the printer. The Form One's build platform was never fully submurged, so it didn't collect resin in the same way.

For cleanup, my original Form One relied on a manual approach - a clean and dirty tank of isopropyl alcohol, and a little basket to agitate the printed parts in each tank to clean off resin. The Anycubic Photon (like later Form Ones) has a separate cleaning tank device that automates the process: all I need to do is put the printed parts in the tank and press a button for a few minutes of agitation in ispropyl alcohol. It's really nice not to have to spend several minutes manually agitating the part to get the extra resin off.

What about the future?

I'm glad I've bought the Anycubic Photon, and I'm having fun getting back into 3d printing. For now, I'm mostly seeing what I can do with the 3d models I'd previously printed on the Form One, and thinking about what projects I need most urgently for the Vasona Branch layout. My two immediate projects are some simple Ford Model A cars for a cannery parking lot scene, and lots of cannery women figures for some of the nearby streets.

The Anycubic Photon also has me thinking about whether to sell 3d printed models again. I had a lot of fun selling the Hart gondolas - figuring out how to manufacture, box, and sell them. I also like sharing these models: helping to tell the story about how freight cars evolved, helping early 20th century modelers have more realistic freight cars to put on their layout, and encouraging others to try mass-producing their own freight cars. I haven't decided whether I'll go back to manufacturing. For now, I'm enjoying not having the pressure of making and selling the cars. But with the Anycubic Photon, I can see that I could mass-produce freight cars again if I wanted.

Bring in the Photographers!

Full disclosure: all photos here are mine documenting the weekend, not the shots the pro guys made.

Well, that was an interesting weekend. As part of preparations for the NMRA 2021 National Convention, Rails by the Bay, I got a chance to get my layout photographed for articles about the convention. Model railroading’s a lone wolf hobby for me, so I’ve never had anyone else doing serious photos of the layout. I instead got to sit and see how others thought of my layout, and how they worked to get great photos. I also changed a bit how I think about the layout as a result.

So let’s talk about aiming for good photos in terms of planning, preparation, and the photos.

If model railroading taught me anything, it taught me project management. Building a model railroad always involves a long effort to build something significant: deciding what to build, sequencing all the work, rolling with the voluntary and involuntary changes, and ending up with a completed model railroad. I found out about the photo sessions at the beginning of the year, and realized I had some time to finish a couple scenes that had been lingering. I used my usual tricks for deciding what to figure out what to do: fix what annoyed me the most, and fix what I was in the mood for.

Two projects won. First, long suffering Glenwood’s scenery finally got redone. I’ve written a bit about that previously, but to recap: it has the potential for an eye catching scene, the prototypical curve makes it easy to stage reproductions of historical photos, and who doesn’t like model trains in mountain scenery? I’d first ripped out the old scenery and fixed some notoriously unreliable trackage near and in the summit tunnel. I redid the hills and Glenwood Highway to better match the terrain. I then covered the area in trees. Normally, I try to build trees from Woodland Scenics kits, but this time I bought from Grand Central Gems at a recent train show, and had a redwood forest ready in days. I ballasted track, detailed the former turntable pit, and built a quick reproduction of the Glenwood station from styrene. (I’ll talk more about the station another time.). Glenwood needed a water tank, so I quickly grabbed one of the venerable Atlas kits and put it into service.

By the time the scene was done, COVID-19 had hit and the original deadline for the work - the Prorail operating event had been cancelled. We rescheduled the photoshoot for August, which gave me motivation for another project. This time, I decided to go after downtown Campbell. The Campbell scene’s always been a focal point for the layout, but the scenery and structures have been half-done for years. I’d built the station model years ago and scenicked the station side of the tracks. However, the opposite side of the tracks was still temporary buildings and little scenery. That included downtown Campbell, Sunsweet, the Hyde Cannery, and Ainsley cannery. This area provided some great scenes - space to photograph long trains, switching action, and lots of canneries. I started on a big push a couple months back to redo everything. For downtown Campbell, I redid the road and building bases, and started trying to pull all together.

I’d already done four of the five buildings for the downtown Campbell Ave., but had held off on the most impressive of the group - the Growers National Bank building that had been downgraded to the local movie theater by the 1930’s. (The building still exists in 2020, though I think they're still fighting about whether to allow it to become a night club.) I’d made a couple attempts at starting the bank, finding a suitably regal plastic model, but the space on the layout was tiny - only about twenty feet wide - and the model wouldn’t fit. Unable to do things perfectly, I just gave up and decided I’d do the model another day.

That day finally came as I cleaned up Campbell Ave. I tossed out my ideas of a "perfect" model and decided to just start building and see what turned up. Like the Dutch signal box, I finally got annoyed enough to just start building. Like that model, I used styrene sheet primarily. Again, large dimension styrene rod worked really well - the 2 foot inset for the doorway was simply 0.250 styrene bar, simplifying the construction. A leftover door and window served for entry. I used brick sheet for the walls; the detail along the roofline were strips of board-and-batten siding standing in for carved stone. I crafted the theater sign from styrene sheet. I would have liked to 3d print it to get the lettering perfect, but my older SketchUp software doesn’t seem to want to render 3d characters.

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Campbell Theater

Bank of Camera Close-up

With Campbell Ave. in, and the road glued down, my next project was fixing the Ainsley Cannery. The Ainsley site’s had a posterboard mockup ever since the layout was built; I still remember Byron Henderson complimenting me during an early operating session because the freight door spacing matched my 40 foot freight cars. Back in 2006, I had a great solution for the cannery - I’d found a YesterYear Models “fruit packing house” - actually a former Sunkist packing house from Riverside, California. The box has been gathering dust ever since as I waited for just the right inspiration to use it for the cannery. This was finally the time to pull the kit out of storage. The overall shape of the buildings are similar - both were a row of wooden barn-like buildings. Like Sunkist, the Ainsley cannery had an office in the end closes to Campbell Ave, and a loading dock dominating the front of the building. As a result, the rough arrangements of windows and doors would work fine as-is. One big difference was that Sunkist’s building had two joined wooden sheds, while the Ainsley cannery had two corrugated iron sheds and two wooden sheds in a line; historic accuracy went out the window in order to get a "good enough" model done as I ignored the corrugated iron sheds. I ended up cutting the Sunkist building in half, and using both ends side-to-side, and ignoring the different materials in the various sheds.

The Drew Cannery, formerly Ainsley

Preparation

All that major work took me up to last week. However, I still hadn’t done much of the preparation work, so I kicked into a big cleanup mode. Our photographers recommended doing a serious cleaning so extraneous dust or debris visible on photos. I also got rid of all the little problems I'd ignored over the years. Some was operating session damage - having folks handle models is always going to trigger a bit of damage. I fixed broken signs and bumped trees, repaired damaged cars, fixed scratched paint or bent grab irons, and filled in ballast holes triggered by past cleanups. I dusted off a set of “good cars”, and stashed away cars that were the wrong era or had visible damage. I fixed long-lingering projects -holes in scenery I’d never addressed, half done patches, and rough surfaces. Some were really quick - I’d never patched scenery when I’d rearranged the Wrights tunnel. Some were larger, such as finishing half-done spackling in the Meridian Road scene.

Most of the preparation work was the same I’d do for an operating session. For operating sessions, I’d also be worrying about reliability, cleaning car and locomotive wheels, testing that engines were working fine, testing couplers and trucks. None of that sort of work mattered much here - the trains would be stationary in the pictures. I was pretty relieved not to be doing a serious cleaning. Serious cleaning's always a huge time sink, and I always want to over-prepare - I’m always worried before operating sessions whether a balky engine or dirty track will make for an unpleasant operating experience.

Another great advantage of photos is that locomotives don't need to run well. The real Vasona Branch likely had small 0-6-0s switching the canneries. On my model, larger 2-8-0 locomotives instead get the job. I really like the little 0-6-0s, but can never use them for operations. They tend to be balky runners and stall way too easily. When operators are focusing on how to solve a switching puzzle, the last thing they want to do is deal with a stalling or broken locomotive; it interrupts the illusion of working on the railroad, and usually ends up with waiting for the layout owner to clean track, fix the engine, or provide another locomotive. With photos, however, a balky or stationary locomotive isn't a bad thing, for the trains don't need to move in a good photograph. I cleaned one of the rarely-used 0-6-0s, and it got a few chances to be on center stage. To be fair, it's still good to have working locomotives if only to quickly pull cars around the layout to a new photo site, but a photo session removes a lot of the worry of mechanical problems.

While some tasks such as wheel-cleaning and locomotive tuning don’t make sense for photos, other tasks not needed before operating sessions were needed. I’m usually a bit hesitant about putting detail on the layout. It’ll often get damaged during operating sessions. I’ve hoarded some details so they’re available when I need to fill in a scene to be photographed. The layout hasn’t always been at a stage where it’s ready for detail.

But hey, if the layout’s going to get photographed for real, this is the time for all that detail. I pulled out my box of various details I’ve hoarded during my time in the hobby. Every Woodland Scenics pallet I’d ever gotten from a detail kit went on the layout. Extra parts from a Fine Scales Miniature kit that couldn’t handle more crowding. All the 3d printed boxes, bags, lugs, and can stacks I’d printed went on any available loading dock. I plopped down figures where they were appropriate. I took a pair of 3d printed flagmans shanties and phone booths and placed them wherever they’d fit. I took the large fruit bins from the YesterYear kit and made a box yard for Del Monte #3, just as can be seen in photographs.

I also put in a bunch of telegraph poles along the right-of-way. I’ve had these on the layout before; they tend to get a lot of abuse, but they’re eye-catching. This time, I spent an evening assembling and painting a set of telegraph and power poles from Rix Products and Atlas. I also painted them a bit more carefully than before. Previously, I’d just painted the telegraph poles a quick brown and added a bit of green for insulators. This time, I made the colors stronger than last time - darker posts, silvery supports, green insulators. In place on the layout, they really catch the eye. For the Meridian Road scene, I also made a point of doing a power/telephone line paralleling the road which helps to make the scene even more realistic.

And thanks to some crazy times at work, I crammed a bunch of this work into the last week, and into a mad three days. We were also in the middle of a serious heat wave here in San Jose, so the hardest part was avoiding heat stroke in the garage, but on the plus side the matte medium dried really, really fast. The roof of the Ainsley cannery got painted just as soon as the glue holding the paper tarpaper on appeared to stick. I laid ballast in a bunch of places that had never been ballasted, and managed to paint and clean the rail in time. I decorated new scenes - bushes hiding a farmhouse along Meridian Ave, a path to the bathroom around the edge of the Rio Grande gas station, and a row of posts to keep parked cars away from the Campbell depot. I was bouncing back and forth between touching up scenery, weathering cars, and touching up structures. When I was checking old photos to get the sign on the Ainsley cannery declaring it to now be the Drew Cannery, I noticed a speed limit sign, and quickly printed up several of those to control the HO scofflaws. I was still touching up ballast and fabricating a set of stairs for the Glenwood depot a half hour before the photo session.

I never completely believed those model railroad magazine articles where someone built a well-detailed layout in a year or two. I couldn't imagine they had time to decide on models, do the construction necessary, or add the details. This week's mad rush convinced me it was possible. All I needed was some definite ideas of what should be built, an urgent deadline, a bit of wiggle-room on what counted as "good enough", some well-stocked supplies, and way too much manic energy.

And the Photographers Arrive

Dan and Doug, the photographers, were spending several days just photographing layouts in the Bay Area. They've also done this before for previous conventions and other layouts, and came fully prepared. Although I've read about model photography in magazines, this was my first chance to see pros in action.

They came prepared: lights, power cords, and various secret photographer paraphenalia. The extension cords helped when the breaker blew on the garage circuit - our 1960's house wasn't designed for this kind of model railroad lighting, and we quickly found another circuit to share the load.

Lighting the whole length of the layout

Dan also had lots of cool tricks so he could get into the scene with his SLR - mirrors to capture scenes the camera couldn't reach, beanbags to hold the camera steady on the layout, high tripod for the upper level photos.

And they took photos different from me, too. Some of that was expected: they visited the Vasona Branch for only a couple hours, so they were very careful to make their plan of shots, then slowly move around the layout to hit each.

Big difference number one from my attempts at model photography: they bring in lots of light. The Vasona Branch has a mix of lighting: the garage lights are cool white fluorescent strips, but I've got various cool white LEDs and warm white fluorescent fixtures lighting the lower deck. I'll usually just use the existing lighting when I take photos; if I'm really taking care, I might borrow a couple bright lights from one source or another. As a result, my photos often have weird colors if a scene has a mix of LED and fluorescent lights. Dan and Doug used two or three photo lamps. Their lights quickly overpower any layout lighting. They also didn't seem to worry about the narrow space between decks - bounce light off objects was enough to light the scene. Their biggest concern seemed to be getting the scene evenly lit, and avoiding shadows on the backdrop. In places where they couldn't get lights, they assumed they could photoshop in some sky into the black background of the garage door.

Dan and Doug use mirrors and a hand-held photo light to capture a train approaching Alma station.

Big difference number 2: The big surprises for me was just seeing what caught their attention. I haven't seen their photos yet, but they understandably looked for interactions between trains and the world. Signals were a common tool to add some action, as were road crossings. My best guess is that model photos need the extra busy-ness and action, and really need some focal point other than the train. The Vasona Branch's semaphore signals were common places for photos. (That was also true on the prototype; one real photo that inspired me is a 1920 photo of a passenger train coming into Glenwood. That photographer, like Dan, made sure to catch the train as it "split the semaphores".

SP Train 84, coming out of the tunnel at Glenwood

I also heard a bunch of interest about the farmhouse and orchard sitting in the blob where the tracks turn from San Jose to Campbell. This scene's always been half done and cluttered - details not glued down, ground not quite sloping correctly, the orchard too small to be realistic. I'd done a big cleanup of the scene in preparation for the photos - pulled out details, removed structures, and generally made it innocuous. But interest kept drifting back towards the farmhouse and barn. I'd started thinking about details as I was doing cleanup; I'd added a hedge to protect the farmhouse from the busier road. But the interest makes me think I should more seriously plan the scene out.

Dan and Doug also focused on the large details - freight cars and car models - rather than smaller details - not surprising because of the short time. They did spot one broken crossbuck that would have detracted from the scene; we pulled it out.

And that was pretty much it; they got ten good photos, and moved onto the next layout. I got to stare at the layout for a while; it's always fun to see the layout when it's been cleaned up for an open house or an operating session, and doubly-good when all the usual clutter in the garage has been relocated. Even though I'd crammed a bunch to get the layout in shape, I was still excited enough at seeing the layout in good shape that I finished off a couple projects that hadn't been done in time, replacing a remaining broken telephone pole, putting in some gravel around the Ainsley cannery, and fixing up the famous black walnut tree that sat at the start of Campbell Ave.

What did the photos show? I've seen the first photos, and they're great - Dan uses Helicon to combine photos taken at different focal lengths to get more depth of field. Looking at the photos, I see a few things to do differently.

• I'm vertically challenged. In a few of the photos, it's obvious I've been less than good at making sure everything's standing up straight. They're close, but as soon as several objects are in a photo: semaphores, building, water tank, telephone poles - it's obvious each has a slightly different idea what "up" is. I'll need to work on this, both ongoing, and fixing the more obvious offenders before I next take photos.
• Prepare for the story. I'd made sure to have cars set up in sample trains, but hadn't been good about choosing cars or trains to illustrate themes I'd want in an article about the layout. For example, large industries and lots of indistinguishable red boxcars is a big part of my layout, but I neglected to have a switcher ready at Plant 51, and also didn't make sure that the cars there were the uninteresting ones. I need to sketch out the story I want to tell beforehand, and share it with the folks doing photography.

What's next? The layout's clean and in good shape, and I'm excited to do some more building. Finishing Campbell is an obvious next step: the Hyde Cannery buildings are screaming out to be build. I'd held off on building the Campbell Theater and Ainsley Cannery because I wanted to make sure I did them right. However, my quick-and-dirty building rush seemed to work with these. Maybe I should just go build Hyde and see what happens?

The orchard scene's another obvious project.

Once both of those are done, there's obvious holes to fill. One advantage of cleaning the layout was that I got rid of all the building placed on the layout "temporarily" for lack of better space - a couple of farmhouses that never found locations, a drive-in market built for fun, a bunch of cars that needed repair. Now that the layout's opened up, I'm reminded that the area between Campbell and Vasona Junction is still completely empty. The Del Monte Plant #3 property's also still occupied only by foamcore buildings. There's also a stretch of bare plaster up on the upper deck near Alma. I'll need to take a pass on any of these scenes going forward.

If the last week's any indication, I know how to get those scenes done quickly: lock down my idea of the scene, build something that's "good enough" rather than waiting for perfection, and pull a bunch of all-nighters during a heat-wave.

What This Layout Really Needs is a Dutch Functionalist Signal Box

The Conundrum

Well, if I needed proof that I’m a structure modeler, not a freight car modeler, I’ve got proof.

I’ve talked in the past about my rules for structures: build only appropriate buildings that will fit on the layout. I’ve got a small model railroad. I don’t need bunch of models I can’t fit on the railroad, whether structures, freight cars, or locomotives. I want to model historical locations, so I don’t need models that aren’t appropriate for 1930’s San Jose. That means no generic kits, and no models inappropriate for the era or the location. I can’t always build what seems like fun. While there were lots of photogenic art deco, modernist, or mission-style buildings around San Jose, they weren’t always along the railroad tracks. My model railroad shows the back side of the old warehouses and canneries, not the attractive downtowns.

Even with that rule, I’ve got lots of interesting structures for inspiration, all clustered in a folder labeled “Inspiration”: a 1920’s car hop restaurant in LA, that pocket gas station in Hollywood next to D.W. Griffith's movie studio, the old freight house at San Jose, a bit of the facade of Golden Gate Packing in San Jose, a moorish revival storefront. They catch my eye, they seem interesting as models, they’d fit on the layout, and they’d fit the era and the location. I keep thinking any of these would be fun; sometimes I might even pull one out as a potential project.

No matter how earnest I sound, I’ve broken the structure rule occasionally. I built one of the classic Fine Scale Miniatures kits just to see what was special about them. The model's much-complimented instructions on weathering the building taught me some handy new tricks. A while back, I showed the 3d-printed model of that 1915 Hollywood gas station. I don’t have a place for it on the layout now, but I liked the look, and I knew it had potential to be on the layout. But other than a few examples, I don’t build inappropriate structures. Nope. If I’m building it, it better have a place on the layout.

But hey, this hobby’s about having fun, and sometimes that means breaking our well-thought out rules to do something wacky.

As part of entertainment during the current shelter-in-place, I’ve been following a bunch of European modelers. One, Tim Dunn, had been publicizing the Twitter Model Train Show, an online event to substitute for a cancelled model railway show in London in March. Tim’s also a broadcaster and is currently doing a TV series on railway architecture on Britain’s equivalent of the History Channel. For one episode, he mentioned the work of Sybold van Ravesteyn, a Dutch architect well-known for his modernist buildings. He shared a few photos on Twitter, including this photo of a very non-traditional switch tower / signal box:

And just like that, I’ll toss away all my principles, and start building a model that doesn’t match my era, my location, and won’t fit on my layout. It’s a pretty sweet model, though!

(For more on van Ravesteyn, read the detours.eu article on his projects.)

The Prototype

van Ravesteyn’s prototype signal box was in Utrecht in the Netherlands, between Rotterdam and Amsterdam. It's an eye-catching structure with sweeping curves, those odd round windows, and the notched roof looking a bit like Don Quixote's shaving bowl hat, all built from concrete. It's like some sort of modernist aerie that might fit well in the hills of Los Angeles, or a couple of brutalist college campuses I can think about.

Yeah, I had to build a model of it.

A bit of research told me more of the history. The signal box was built as part of a revamp of Utrecht’s central station in 1937 and 1938. Similar signal boxes sat on the north and south ends of the station, but the surviving photos are for the signal box on the north end, just where the Leideveer underpass dives under the railroad lines. The signal boxes were designed for electric interlocking machines, with the operators on the top floor, an equipment room in a middle level, and the bulk of the building perched on top of a 15 foot high concrete shaft. The real signal box was never actually used "because of World War II", though that doesn't say whether Utrecht was damaged, if the line didn't get enough traffic to require the interlocking, or if the building was just impractical. It appears the building was a residence for a few years, but torn down in the 1950’s. Some online photos show the tenants on the stairs up to the signal box.

The Model

I’d initially thought of 3d printing this model in order to reproduce the curves and the round windows. However, it’s a bit of a waste to go straight to 3d here. The switch tower would take a fair amount of resin to print - probably the equivalent of a couple freight cars, and I’d require a couple tries to print it reliably. 3d printing’s also best for a model that’s going to be made multiple times. This switch tower’s a weekend boondoggle; I don’t even need one, so 3d modeling for multiple is overkill.

I still did a 3d model in SketchUp to figure out the measurements. I created the 3d model by studying a bunch of photos online, and estimating dimensions from the spacing between tracks, size of windows, etc.

For most traditional buildings, figuring out how to build a model isn’t that hard: lay out the walls, cut holes for window and door castings, glue walls together, add a roof. I learned all this from kits I built in high school, and models I’ve scratch built and kit bashed ever since. The curved lines of the signal box didn’t suggest an obvious way to build. I ended up using a model airplane-like approach, with forms supporting a skin.

I drew out the end shape on 0.060” styrene sheet (cheap and plentiful in large sheets from Tap Plastics!), cut out two pieces to match the signal box’s silhouette, and drilled holes for the round windows in the equipment room. I then added spacers with 1/8” x 1/4” styrene rod to hold the two ends out the appropriate 12 scale feet apart. (The thick styrene rod is available from Evergreen Scale Models, just like your scale 2x6 strips and clapboard siding. The bigger pieces always seem like an extravagance compared with plexiglas or wood scraps. However, the styrene rod is easy to work with - just score and snap, same as the thinner styrene - and easy to glue.) I also added 0.125” square styrene along the edges of the pieces as a gluing surface.

Once I had the rough form, I cut out 0.020” styrene sheet for the curved walls, and carefully bent them to match the curve of the walls. A bunch of rubber bands and clamps held everything in place until the plastic glue dried. I sanded the corners so they were a bit less sharp, added filler, and primed the whole model to double-check the surface didn’t have flaws. I built the roof similarly - two sheets of 0.062” styrene for the flat roof with the concave notch, and a half-barrel roof made from half-circle forms with thin sheet over the top. One important step was gluing some 8-32 nuts into the base of the model. This is a really top-heavy model that won’t stand on its own, so I needed to secure it to a base just so I could paint it and work on it without the signal box falling over.

Once the rough walls were formed, I added more of the structural details - the entry platform, and the horizontal table outside the observation windows, all cut from styrene sheet. I used styrene strip to frame up the observation windows, and a platform for the roof. I primed and painted the model white, and added some weathering to make the curves more obvious.

I also made one bad move: I tried to add some texture to the walls to better look like concrete. The "pumice gel" I'd used to simulate stucco looked way too rough, and I spent a couple hours scrubbing and scraping the texture off so the model would look "cleaner".

The steps and handrails came from Central Valley’s “Fence and Railings” and “Steps and Ladders” packs. I couldn’t reproduce the curved railings by the entrance to the signal box, so for now the model has some unfortunate straight railings. I’ll try later to do a more accurate set of railings.

So where’s the completed model going to go? It’s not appropriate for the Vasona Branch. The WP’s West San Jose tower already has an accurate model. Even if I wanted to imagine that a modernist switch tower might have ended up at the location, economics and the unfashionable location suggested that there was no way a fancy switch tower ever would have been at the location. WP shut down the tower by the 1930’s anyway, so it's unlikely they would have spent money for a modernist jewel box out behind the Del Monte Cannery. Instead, my little Utrecht tower will probably be going to my desk at work just so I’ve got something railroad-related to be thinking about in between tasks.

I’ve got a rule: I only build appropriate models that will fit on the layout. Except when I don’t. The Utrecht signal box was a break-the-rules, fun, more-than-a-weekend project. The signal box wasn’t appropriate for my 1930’s San Jose layout, nor does it give me a chance to explore my interest in California history. However, this little modernist signal box from half a world away does capture my interest in modern architecture, and gave me a chance to try some unusual techniques in styrene. I imagine I could have learned the same lessons in plastic by scratch building a Vanderbilt tender, or a passenger car. But I like buildings, and so if I was going to do a project just for fun, it’s pretty obvious it would have been a modernist little structure model.

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Thanks to Tim Dunn for sharing the original picture and inspiring me to build this project. Arjan den Boer's article on van Sybold van Ravesteyn gave more detail on the arrangement of the signal box, and the architect's evolution of style. Thanks to all the kit manufacturers who gave me enough model building skills so I could knock off this model in a couple of long days.

We All Scream for Location-Accurate Buildings

I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream. Well, hopefully not, or the garage is going to be awfully loud.

I’ve slowly been filling out the Los Gatos scene. A few years ago, I added a shelf to cover the staging tracks, and used the space to add some much-needed houses along the railroad tracks in Los Gatos. I also had a bare spot immediately in front of the Hunt’s Cannery. Historically, the spot was some charming and quite pricey houses on University Avenue. However, expensive real estate wouldn't match the theme I'm trying to capture. I want to hint at the industrial side of town here, so the space deserved something utilitarian. My first cut was a low-slung warehouse made with board-and-batten siding. The warehouse never looked correct - too low, too plain.

I feel back to my usual tricks: look through old photos to see what was actually along the tracks. I knew there was a lumber yard along University Ave near the Old Town development which deserved a space. Looking at some of the 1940’s photos, I found what looked like a boxy cinderblock building with a strange contraption on the roof, just north of Elm Street. Captions mentioned this as the ice cream plant for Eatmore Ice Cream and Creamery at 46 N. Santa Cruz Ave. The building’s on the wrong side of the railroad tracks for me, but it’ll look fine on the University Ave. side.

The History

Eatmore Ice Cream was founded by Hans Nielsen in 1922, an immigrant from Denmark and new arrival in Los Gatos. Eatmore’s location was in the middle of downtown at 52 North Santa Cruz Ave. at Elm Street. Nielsen ran the place solo for many years, working “at night to make his ice cream and delivered it during the daytime.” The company must have done well; several of Nielsen’s helpers in the ice cream business turn up in the historic record. Eatmore also had several outposts, including a takeover of a San Jose manufacturer and an an ice cream factory in San Francisco at 1525 Union St. Eatmore lasted as an independent business for about twenty years. Nielsen finally got an offer he couldn’t refuse from Beatrice Foods in 1944 and sold out; he continued as manager for the newly rebranded Meadow Gold branded creamery. Newspaper articles describe the company as delivering 1100 gallons of ice cream a day through ice cream plants in Watsonville, Santa Cruz, San Jose, and Palo Alto. This sounds more like what Meadowgold (owned by Beatrice Foods) accomplished; census records show that Nielsen continued to live and work in Los Gatos after the takeover, so he sounds more like the small-town manager than the ice cream unicorn entrepreneur. Meadowgold lasted at least into the 1970’s, manufacturing ice cream right there in downtown Los Gatos.

The creamery on Santa Cruz Ave was a simple storefront on the main road through town. A photo from the 1930's shows a large "Eatmore" sign painted on the Elm Ave. wall of the building. (The photo also shows an Associated Gasoline station on the opposite corner - imagine trying to put a gas station on Santa Cruz Ave. today!) Sanborn maps show Eatmore sharing a building with a grocery next door. Although the creamery storefront was on Santa Cruz Ave., the ice cream manufacturing didn’t stay there for long. A cinder block building behind the creamery storefront shows up in the 1928 Sanborn map with 18’ ceilings, a two-story office at the front, and a boiler room at the rear.

The only photos I’ve found show the building from a distance; it looks blocky and unpretentious with only the cooling tower on top seeming out of the ordinary. Example photos include a 1950's shot from Charlie Givens in Arcadia Publishing's "Railroads of Los Gatos".

Meadowgold still shows up in 1950’s photos, and articles reminiscing about the old Los Gatos seem to mention Meadowgold and Eatmore more often than I’d expect.

Eatmore, 1944 Sanborn map

Manufaactured gas plant, 1930's SP Valuation Map. CSRM Collection.

The space wasn’t always an ice cream factory. Railroad valuation maps into the 1940’s still displayed the previous inhabitants - the manufactured gas plant for Los Gatos. Manufactured gas plants processed coal and oil to extract lighter-than-air hydrocarbons, and took the remaining coal tar and lampblack and either sold it or buried it out back for future generations to discover. The gas holder was at the front of the plot, facing Elm St., with a corrugated iron building at the back. PG&E shut down the plant in 1924 when a natural gas line from San Jose arrived. The ice cream plant seems to match the location and floor plan of the manufactured gas plant building; the two story office at the front appears to date from the ice cream era.

The Model

The model required a fair amount of guesswork. There were no good photos of the building, just distance shots showing a tiny featureless white box and dark cooling tower. The Sanborn map shows a bit more about heights and number of floors in the building, but I forgot to double-check the Sanborn map before I started construction. Instead, I looked at photos online for ideas about cinder block building from 1930’s. When those searches didn’t work out, I ended up searching for ice cream plants, and found some photos of Treat Ice Cream’s San Jose plant off Alum Rock Ave. Treat’s a local ice cream manufacturer that provides the store brand for our local grocery, and their plant is hidden at the back of a main street business on San Jose’s East Side. The cinderblock building and steel windows gave me the inspiration I needed.

The general construction was straightforward, but it’s definitely a 21st century project. I used styrene sheet for the walls and ceiling (using 1/16” styrene sheet from Tap Plastic - cheap and available in any size you want up to 4' x 8') and strip styrene for the front and side deck. The doors are Grandt Line parts. Rather than simulate concrete block, I fell back to a stucco look, and again used an acrylic gel with pumice from the art supply store to give the walls a slightly rough appearance.

I couldn’t find any windows I liked, so I instead fell back on the 3d printer. 3d printed windows never print as nicely as the commercial windows - tiny muntins just don’t print well. To avoid a trip to the store, I made the windows solid, with muntins and panes embossed into the solid casting. I painted the windows glossy black to simulate glass, then painted the window frames. I used a similar trick with baggage wagons in the past, making the wheels solid with raised spokes rather than trying to make spindly and open wheels.

The 3d cooling tower was another challenge. Some folks have modeled cooling towers for ice plants; Suydam’s cardboard kits have one example. The models always look a little rough, both because of the material and its toughness. Instead, I fell back on the 3d printer. I figured out my design from looking at previous HO models (such as Suydam's) and also checking old trade journals such as Refrigeration World for photos of past equipment. (For example, here's the Burhorn cooling tower.)

Although the design seems complex, it's geometric and pretty straightforward. The model's designed as two copies of the same part, each printing two sides. Real cooling towers appeared to use corrugated iron for the fins; I held off on adding that detail from impatience. If you want one of your own, the 3d model can be downloaded from Thingiverse.com.

My final touch was milk pails, a combination of 3d printed and commercial (Tichy) cast parts. Photos of Eatmore's San Jose plant showed the classic tin milk pails all over the place. Although common in industry, tin milk pails aren't a common sight on railroads in California - I've seen little evidence for milk trains in the Santa Clara Valley. Pauline Correia Stonehill's Barrelful of Memories: Stories of My Azorean Family" described life in growing up on a Central Valley dairy. She remembered her father using a wagon to carry the day's milk to the Los Banos dairy. A combination of good roads and nearby processing plants may have made remarked how many dairies delivered milk via wagon and truck. There may have been milk trains elsewhere in the Bay Area; the Niles Depot website claims two or three milk trains a day through Fremont.

Installing the Interlocking Machine at West San Jose

I'd shown the interlocking machine for the WP crossing a couple posts back. Now that I've shared it, it's given me a good kick-in-the-butt to actually install it on the layout. After a couple of weekend work sessions, I'm proud to say it's installed now. See the video above to see it in action, or read on and learn some of the details about installing it.

I've argued I need the interlocking because crews will otherwise forget the crossing is there. In case you doubt it, here's a photo from an early op session showing someone dropping cars directly across the crossing.

And finally, some details about the scene:

The Derails

The West San Jose tower was a mechanical interlocking - that is, the levers on the interlocking machine moved piping which would cause switches, derails, and signals to change position and state. Seeing the Barriger photo of the crossing from the 1930's, I really wanted to model the control devices - the derails that would push cars off the tracks, and the movable rods that would move a derail out of the way so a train could pass.

I'd thought about doing something physical to block the tracks, but the alternatives I thought about, such adding a switch point in the track or dropping a derailing device on the rail, seemed both fragile and troublesome. I chose to do something less prototypical, embedding an LED between ties. The LED glows red if the derail is set, encouraging crews not to roll through. The lights don't force crews to deal with the interlocking, but they're at least an encouragement.

I'd also considered laying out the actual rodding to control the signals and derails. That idea also ended pretty quickly; I realized most solutions wouldn't be able to stand up to the aggressive track cleaning needed for a garage layout. I'd considered using something substantial such as piano wire for the rodding, but immediately had thoughts of poking a bit of rod straight through one finger. (Perhaps I could bend right angles at each end of a section of pipe so the ends are firmly in the roadbed?) For now, there will be no piping.

The Signals

The real West San Jose crossing would have been protected by tall semaphore signals - one set of signals close to the crossing, and another about a mile back. Semaphore signals wouldn't survive last long at this point on the model railroad. The area around Auzerais Street requires a lot of reaching in to couple and uncouple cars, and the low upper deck means operators need to reach right in. Rather than watch semaphores get destroyed each session, I decided to use dwarf signals at the crossing. Like all modelers, I've usually got some interesting stuff in the scrap box for a project. The scrap box held some dwarf signal castings I'd probably bought at the Trains-Nothing-But-Trains closing sale back in 1983, but I only had two of those left.

Instead, I fell back on my favorite crutch - the 3d printer. With about an hour of work, I'd sketched up a signal and had it printing on the 3d printer. I needed to refine the design widen the holes so they'd fit my chosen LEDs, but still had usable signals within a day of changing my plan. The design may seem a bit simple, but it's got all the same detail that my 1970's era white metal signal had... and I don't need to run to the hobby store to get more.

The Switches

The interlocking machine controls a pair of track switches for the interchange track between the WP and SP. (Full disclosure: there was no such track here. When the SP and WP interchanged cars, they did so at a small yard along South Fourth Street. Switching interest won out over accurate trackage.) Like all switches on my layout, I use Tortoise switch machines to control them, both so crews don't need to reach into the scene to throw switches and so I've got electrical contacts to avoid dead frogs. The Tortoises work by reversing polarity, so the switches on the fascia are DPDT switches wired as reversing switches. That won't work with the Modratec contacts - it provides SPDT contacts for each lever.

Instead, I replaced the Tortoises with the the MP5 switch motors I'd used on the Market Street modular layout. The switch machines can be controlled via SPDT contacts. They're also easier to install - the position of the throw wire can be adjusted after the switch machine is screwed onto the layout. The MP5s do use tiny screws for mounting, but I've worked around this by mounting them to thin plywood with #2 screws at the workbench, then using larger screws to attach the plywood to the benchwork.

The Lights

The area around the Western Pacific crossing hasn't gotten a lot of attention; apart from a coat of paint soon after the track was laid, there's been little work on the area for the last... oh, ten years. I did build a model of Western Pacific's tower years ago.

Putting in the interlocking also forced me to do a few other jobs - I added dirt to hide the bare homasote, glued down a fence leading to the Del Monte cannery. I also ended up improving the lighting. When I started on the Vasona Branch, I used under-the-counter fluorescent fixtures. They worked ok, but there wasn't always enough space for the twenty inch long fixtures. I also was always a little hesitant about threading 120 volt wire through the layout just in case the wrong wire got chafed or cut. When I'd checked out LED strip lighting years ago, I found the lights weren't really bright enough for layout lighting, and the printed circuit carriers weren't easy to mount.

Last year, I'd spotted some cool LED units in Fry's electronics components aisle. These were 12 volt LED modules, with white LEDs on a plastic carrier. At $1.50 a unit, they were too pricey for an entire layout. Searching on eBay, however, I found the same modules were often used for hollow sign lighting, and that I could buy strips of a hundred of these lights for almost nothing. These are still available on Ebay (like this - search for "LED module 5050" (5050 is the part number for the bright white LEDs) and there's some that exactly match mine, and a lot of other similar fixtures. I like the waterproof ones; they've got sealed packages. I use 12 volt power supplies for laptops to power them - they're cheap ($10), come with a cord and plug, and don't cover up outlets like wall warts.

Next step: get some operators to actually test out the interlocking!