Iron Modeler

Category: Places I’ve been and things I’ve seen

  • On Reunions, Friends, and Families (and an introduction, for those who arrived late to the party)

    My 40th high school reunion is coming up next year.

    That means two things—I get to hear (and tell) stories from the good old days, and I’m really getting old.

    I missed my other reunions—combinations of finances (usually lack thereof) and those “life things” got in the way.  This time, I am going to do my best to attend.  In the build-up, my nostalgia rush—bad enough of late when left on its own—went into overdrive, and the memories came pouring back.  What can I say?  I guess that’s why I like history, too—I like looking back and analyzing the past.

    So, here’s to old friends!

    Somebody once made a comment about what it means to be friends, and how you can’t truly be friends if you never interacted in person.  And they probably have a point, but let’s consider what Messrs. Merriam and Webster have to say.

    Friend: One attached to another by affection or esteem: “She’s my best friend.”

    So, the definition seems to indeed indicate that yes, friends should be closely associated.  But then there is this word listed as an alternate:

    Acquaintance, or “a person whom one knows but who is not a particularly close friend.”

    So, in the “according to Hoyle” sense, one can be a friend without being particularly close.

    One of our reunion organizers has made the case that we are family.  I have agreed and said we share a kinship, or fellowship.  So, let’s flip through the ol’ dictionary again…

    Family:  A group of people united by certain convictions or a common affiliation.

     Affiliate:  Associate as a member (of a group).

    Fellowship:  Community of interest, activity, feeling, or experience.

    And there we have it.  We share a fellowship.  We are associated as a member of our high school class, which is a community of interest.

    We are indeed a family.  But we didn’t need to go through all those research steps to figure that out.  I did the research because I enjoy it.  I’m weird.  I admit it.

    Of course, high school classmates aren’t the only extended families we have.  There are fraternities, sororities, military and police and fire units, trade groups, unions, civic organizations, Scouts, religious groups, and others.

    But a high school family is special to most of us because of when it happens in our lives.  We are close to each other at what can be an awkward time in our lives, that time of transition from child to teenager to young adult.  Piled on top of the usual adolescent angst is the societal expectations placed upon us—this is the time when we are supposed to figure out what we want to be when we grow up, and this time it is for real.  Or so we’re told. Like several others among my classmates, I am still trying to answer that age-old question.

    Add into the mix that wonderful time in every child’s life when we experience that first girlfriend-boyfriend relationship, and first kiss, and possibly a first intimate encounter, and boy, we had a lot on our plates.  We literally watched each other grow up and navigated adolescence together.  Some experienced broken hearts as they found, and then lost, what was thought to be true love—somehow they managed to pick up the pieces and move on.  Others found soul mates sitting in the desk in the next row, and have been married for many years.

    My extended family contains people from all walks of life: doctors and other medical professionals; lawyers, judges and other legal professionals; civil and military veterans; musicians, actors, and other entertainment professionals who worked to bring us the music, movies, and television shows that entertain us; service industry hosts, waiters, chefs, and salespeople who provide the food we eat, the stuff we buy, and manage the places we go when we want to get away; and any number of blue-collar “nine-to-five ham-and-eggers” who keep the world moving.  They are moms and dads, aunts and uncles, stepmoms and stepdads, and grandmoms and granddads.

    Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief,

    Or what about a cowboy, policeman, jailer, engine driver, or a pirate chief?

    Or what about a ploughman or a keeper at the zoo,

    Or what about a circus man who lets the people through?

    Or the man who takes the pennies on the roundabouts and swings,

    Or the man who plays the organ or the other man who sings?

    Or what about the rabbit man with rabbits in his pockets

    And what about a rocket man who’s always making rockets?

    Oh it’s such a lot of things there are and such a lot to be

    That there’s always lots of cherries on my little cherry tree.                                                     

               — Now We Are Six, A.A. Milne

    Alas, my extended family has also mourned the loss of too many of our brothers and sisters.  Whether by disease, malfeasance, or (sadly) by their own hand, each loss was profoundly felt, and they are missed.

    We celebrate together, we mourn together, and we are, at times, dysfunctional.  We also have our fair share of crazy aunts and uncles.

    If that’s not family, I don’t know what is.  And I can’t wait to reconnect with my long lost family.

    *****     *****     *****

    For my new readers, I hope you take some time to have a look around.  Admittedly, the blog that I started in late 2010 as a cornucopia of various topics has fallen into an aviation research and scale modeling rut lately, but, as Samuel L. Jackson’s Jules Winnfield says to the guy robbing the diner in “Pulp Fiction”, “I’m tryin’ Ringo.  I’m tryin’ *real* hard…”

    If you like what you’ve read, there are several teachers to thank, starting with my dear departed mother—she was the Latin teacher at St. Thomas Aquinas High School for 30+ years between 1980 and 2012.  I inherited the liberal arts part of my personality from her.

    You can then add Ralph Bucci, Sam Rogers, Hope Reinfeld, and Gloria Warrick, my English teachers at Boyd H. Anderson High School.  They taught me everything I know about grammar, spelling, sentence structure, and proper creative and technical writing.  A hat tip also goes to the late Cecilia Carballo, my high school Spanish teacher, who saw that I had some aptitude in several other languages, most of which I am sadly no longer fluent.  She became a special mentor to me in school, and I was saddened to hear of her passing several years ago.

    I am also guided by my best critic, a college-level journalism professor and book author who also happens to be my wife.  While she doesn’t proof everything I write, I see her cringe when I break some obscure style rule.  When she does, I always imagine her as Miss Shields, the teacher in “A Christmas Story”:

    “You call this a paragraph?  Margins!  Margins!  ‘F’!

     My life’s work, down the drain. 

     A semicolon, you dolt!  A period!  ‘F’!

    Oh, I should weep if I have to read one more ‘F’!”

    Incidentally, she’s seen this piece, and she gave me an A++++++++++++.  So I have that going for me–which is nice.  I already had the Red Ryder air rifle…

    The research thing comes naturally to me—I was an inquisitive child—but I was pointed in the right direction by a good many enthusiasts, historians, and researchers whose skills far outstrip mine.  I got my technical aptitude from my dad, and my technical writing skills come as a by-product of 30+ years working on corporate jets as an avionics technician.  It’s also what I get paid to do these days.

    For my regulars, rest assured that I’ll continue to do regular updates on my normal irregular schedule.  Keep checking back…

    Thanks for reading, all of you.  As always, be good to one another and look after each other.  Until next time, I bid you Peace.

  • Some Insight

    Howdy, all!

    Last time out, I made a comment that my hobby of scale modeling led to my career/vocation paths.  To refresh your memory, they were (in no particular order) history, aviation, research, writing, and hanging out at the hobby shop.

    This is one of those “about me for myself” pieces I talked about last time, but I thought this one might be fun to share.

    When my father brought home a Revell 1/32 scale Wildcat model kit, I don’t think he realized the vast worlds he was opening up to me.

    I was an early reader.  I’ve been told that I could read before I was four years old.  As I got older, I loved to read.  I would read pretty much anything I could get my hands on.  When we started building that model, I was only concerned about the three-dimensional puzzle in the box.  However, one night, as I waited for Dad to come to the table for our modeling session, I started to read the side of the box.  Then I noticed that the instruction sheet contained more than just how to get the parts together—the front page had a capsule history of the airplane and its exploits during WWII.  Before I read it, I just thought the little pudgy airplane looked neat, but as I read about how it was the Navy’s front line fighter airplane in the early days of the war, and how it was flying against faster, more maneuverable enemy airplanes, my interest grew.  I looked for books in the school library about the war, and learned about the Battles of the Coral Sea, the Battle of Midway, Wake Island, and the Solomons.  Each new discovery led me to learn more.  I’d find one nugget that would lead me to three more.

    That’s research, kids.  I do a lot of research to this day—most of what I do uses what are known as secondary sources, so it is technically “Research Lite” (Less Filling!  Tastes Great!), although I did start to use primary sources when we were up to our necks in the Fire Support Base RIPCORD project a year or so ago.  What’s the difference?  Primary sources are from either official accounts from the units involved or from the guys who were actually there and participated.  SITREPS, diaries, After Action reports, first hand witnesses—those are all primary source materials.  Secondary sources are what you find on the shelves at the local Barnes and Noble—books written about events where the author may (or may not) have used primary sources.  (As “true” researchers know, you take all secondary sources with a grain of salt…)

    As I researched things, I’d write about them.  I wrote a lot of book reports, sure, but sometimes I’d write just for myself.  They were more a collection of notes, but every now and then I would collect those thoughts into an article for the local modeling club newsletter.  I laid off writing for a while, but with the COVID shutdown I’ve managed to get a little of my groove back, and have once again been pumping out modeling articles, and they’re now being published in the national organizations’ magazines.

    The more models I built, the more I wanted to build.  Unfortunately, like most things, it takes money to acquire and build models.  By the time I hit high school, I was at the age where I started to take my modeling more seriously.  A long-time modeler and author, Roscoe Creed, made mention of it when he “wondered where all the cracks went?” in one of his books  a book that I still refer to from time to time.

    I wanted to get rid of the seam lines.  I wanted to make it look like the pictures of the actual item.  As I learned of such things, I began using putty, decal setting solutions, these new-fangled super glues, and an airbrush.  Like the kits themselves, that stuff isn’t free.  More experience led me to discover the then-emerging world of the aftermarket—decals were the first thing I think most modelers encounter from the aftermarket, but later things like photoetched brass details, white metal and resin parts, vac-form kits, and other additions and conversions also became part of my repertoire.

    Of course, by doing so, I was honing my skills as a craftsman and, dare I say, artist.  I was learning how to solve problems.  I developed a sense of spatial relationships–how stuff goes together.  It goes without saying that I developed a good eye for small details.

    After I graduated from college, I started to visit the local shop more frequently.  I became a regular, and eventually I was asked if I wanted to do some fill-in work.  Before long, I was a regular part-time employee, and would remain so until I moved out of state.  During a layoff period about 10 years later, I got a job at the local hobby shop here.  I was only there for a few months, but when my next full-time employer picked up and left, I went to work for the shop again.

    What helped me get the job, I think, is that I was familiar with all the stuff one needed to complete a model.  I was also interested in going the extra mile when I built my models, and I knew what that took, so I could guide others when they came looking for hobby stuff.  Many see retail sales as a drag, but I saw it as a chance to get paid while playing with toys.  Hence, my days hanging out at the hobby shop…

    Now, how about the aviation thing…

    I have no idea what first got me hooked on airplanes.  Perhaps it was the Wildcat model.  More likely, it was reading of the exploits of the men who flew them in the war; the Wildcat model was merely the first step on the path.  For many years, I wasn’t interested in a book if (A) it was not related to aviation; or (B) the word “fiction” was not preceded by “non”.  I have to believe it was that—the more I read, the more I learned, and the more I wanted to be part of that world.  Interestingly, I never really wanted to be a pilot.  I can’t say why, I just never saw that as where I would be.  More on that shortly…

    In my day, teachers were almost always matronly ladies in their late 30’s to early 50’s.  However, my fourth grade teacher was an exception.  I guess she was in her late 20’s–I seem to recall she had only recently received her teaching credentials at that time.  She was a pretty, petite, energetic lady, blonde with a deep tan, and was always smiling.  Her name was Miss Gerstle (Nancy, if I recall correctly).  Her last name rhymes with the chocolate company’s name, and we often called her “Miss Nestlé-Gerstle”.  From the little bit I managed to gather on her by listening to her, she lived with a few roommates and they all worked on the weekends as flight attendants (we called them “stewardesses” back in the day) for Mackey Airlines, a small scheduled airline that flew from Ft. Lauderdale to the Bahamas, in order to earn a little extra money.

    I don’t know if she lined it up, but one day we took a field trip to Ft. Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport and got to walk around some airplanes.  I seem to recall a Mackey airplane, maybe a DC-6, and it sat next to an Eastern Airlines (IIRC) 727 which was powered up, and we could walk through it.  We spent a few hours walking around the airplanes, asking questions, and talking with the pilots and “stews”.  I loved it.

    An interesting tidbit—when I graduated from college and landed my first “adult” job, I worked from that same ramp, by that time occupied by the National Jets/Florida Aircraft Leasing facilities.  Small world, right?

    I don’t know what happened to Miss Gerstle, but wherever she is, I hope she is still smiling brightly and doing well.  She was a breath of fresh air for me…

    Later, while going through the steps to earn my Aviation merit badge, somehow I got what we call today a “Discovery Flight”.  We went to the airport bright and early, got the whole briefing, got to do the preflight on the airplane, then we went out for a flight over Ft. Lauderdale.  Sitting in the pilot seat, I couldn’t see over the glareshield! I enjoyed the flight, but decided that while it looked like fun, I wasn’t interested in being a pilot.

    As I started high school, I was shunted into what we would call a STEM program—back in those days, it didn’t have a name, but it put me on a track that emphasized math and science.  We only had to take two science and two math classes over four years, but I had four of each.  Somewhere along the line, it was intimated that I should become an aeronautical engineer, but as I related a long time ago, that didn’t work out so well.  But I never abandoned my interest, and eventually went back to school and earned two degrees from Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University that said I had what it took to be a genuine wire stringer, smoke wrangler, electron herder, and spark chaser—I became an avionics technician.

    For most of my 30+ years chasing sparks, I worked in the world of corporate aviation—Learjets were my bread and butter, along with Hawkers and Citations.  From time to time, I also worked on General Aviation craft—the little Cessna and Piper “puddle jumpers” that you see at your local airport—and business class turboprops like the Beechcraft King Air and Cessna Conquest families.

    It was a demanding career, to be sure.  I worked in 100+ degree heat and 20 degree cold.  I worked in the sun, the rain, and sometimes even snow.  Many times, we worked from “can” to “can’t”—we did what we needed to do to keep ‘em flying.  It was hot, dirty, demanding work at times—especially at my last stop, where I was also the airframe electrician.  If something provided electrical power or had a wire or air data line leading to it, it was in my wheelhouse.

    I was always acutely aware that if I failed in my job, people could be injured or killed in a most loud and grotesque manner.  I accepted the challenge.  Not everybody is cut out for such a critical job, and as I began to supervise others, that would be my first question to them.  If they were cavalier or flip, I wouldn’t hire them.  If you wanted to work with me, you had to not only be aware of the consequences of your actions, you had to accept that any little deviation, a nanosecond of inattention, and you could possibly kill someone…

    Incidentally, I don’t really like to fly.  Maybe it has something to do with the fact that 95% of the flying I have done in my lifetime has been done because I *had* to in the line of duty.  Flying for me was almost a mandatory thing, and much like running on a treadmill—we made a lot of noise and expended a lot of effort to basically go nowhere–it quickly became work.

    For most folks, flying is a way to get from what you know to an unexplored exotic location on the other side of the globe, some sort of personal adventure, and flying is merely a gateway to that adventure.  It is quite different when you know how the sausage is made and have to do it every day.

    When the folks I was working for picked up stakes and left in 2016, I stayed put.  I decided that my days of crawling around on hard hangar floors or cramming myself into ever smaller spaces were behind me.  Since I had done a lot of the documentation that aircraft modifications required, I decided to use my writing skills and my avionics knowledge to start down the path to being a Technical Writer.  My mother, who taught Latin, always said that I had technical hands and a liberal arts brain, and this seemed to be the best of both worlds.

    And that’s how scale modeling made me who I am today.  A gift from my father awakened an interest in history, and also fed my reading and research habit.  What I learned through my reading led to an interest in aviation, helped along by a teacher and a merit badge.  The technical aspects of the hobby sharpened my problem solving skills, helped me develop good hand-eye coordination and spurred me to develop a keen eye for small details and a sense of craftsmanship and artistry.  The marriage of all this led to where I am right now.

    And it started with a model airplane.

    Thanks for reading.  Be good to one another, and look after each other.  As always, I Bid you Peace.

  • Who am I to Judge? (Or: I know art when I see it)

    Howdy…

    Today, I’m going to tackle a subject that I’ve skated around for a few years.  This topic, more than any other in scale modeling, can be the most polarizing thing there is in the hobby —the topic is judging scale models.  I will try to remain objective and neutral on my observations…

    Full disclosure:  I am an IPMS/USA and an AMPS member.  My last full effort for competition in IPMS was the 2000 Space Coast show.  My last model on an IPMS competition table was at the 2005 Atlanta Nationals.  Why?  One, I subscribe to David Sarnoff’s (the guy behind RCA and NBC back in the day) theory that “competition brings out the best in products and the worst in people”.  I have been witness to more bent feelings, hot tempers, and bad blood at IPMS contests that I can shake a stick at, all because someone didn’t get a big shiny to take home to prove to the world that he or she was The God of Styrene that week.  Two, the actual construction of a model falls under the heading of “craft”, but the final finish certainly borders on being art.  How do you judge art as a winner or loser?

    For the record, I have a rather large box of plaques and medals that I’ve won at model shows through the years, from a 3rd place plaque from an Embry-Riddle model show in 1983 to a Best Aircraft and “Best Between the Wars” plaque, a special award, from the 2000 Space Coast show, so this isn’t being colored by sour grapes.  I build my models for me, and if they happen to garner some ugly plaque buildup, so much the better.  I don’t do this for adulation, because after the show is over I still have to go to work and pay the bills…

    Without getting into the weeds with the various systems out in the world used to judge a model show, I will instead take a look at the two most common systems used here in the United States.  They are the IPMS/USA system—commonly referred to as a “1-2-3” system, where every category (entries permitting) has a 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winner.

    The other system is Open Judging, the best known being the system that AMPS uses.  AMPS doesn’t so much judge a model as they do score it, and multiple awards are possible within any given category.

    These are some observations that I’ve collected over the years–some of them are actually mine, but most are from talking with others.  The general claims and observations are in standard type, my comments are in italics.

    The IPMS system works like this—your model is placed on the table, in the relevant category.  Once registration closes and all the models are on the table, a team of judges evaluates each category.  They’ll look for basics: alignment, mold flaws, construction flaws, finish, detailing, etc.  If a model exhibits major flaws, they’ll be cut out of the running.  All the while, the models are compared to each other as well as to a mental “standard” that each judge is supposed to know and grasp.

    The models that make the cut are again evaluated in the same manner but to a more focused look.  Eventually, the team arrives at the top four or five models.  The final cut is taking those four or five models and determining a 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winner.  Remember, throughout the process the models are not only being evaluated to the nebulous “standard”, they are also being compared to each other.

    So, the observations:

    IPMS judging picks “Winners”! (and, by extension, “losers”.)

    If you “win”, you get a big shiny trophy!  (But if you don’t, you get bupkus.  This especially applies to competition newbies–they haven’t yet grasped the nuances of how the deal works.)  

    “If you want to know why your model didn’t ‘win’”, they’ll tell you, “ask a judge.”. (This is a noble effort, but it usually doesn’t result in anything.  Asking a judge is usually futile, since they want to get out and go home, too–it also seldom works, especially if the judge or  judges you consult weren’t involved with your model, because part of the IPMS judging scheme requires the comparison of your model to the others on the table.  So, even if the judge that worked your category was there and remembered the way the judging unfolded, they really can’t say for sure why you “lost”, since they don’t have the other models there for comparison.)

    IPMS awards the modeler, not the model.  (Despite claims to the contrary from the IPMS Hard-Liners, the IPMS 1-2-3 system awards the model, not the modeler.  Think about it–if it rewarded the modeler, their model’s standing in the show wouldn’t depend on what else was on the table with it.)

    Under this system, a model could win Best in Show one week and get shut out the following week at the contest a few hours down the road.  (I’ve seen this first-hand, more than once.  Any repeat-ability is purely coincidental.)

    IPMS judges learn on the fly from people who aren’t always the best teachers.  (Most are very good at what they do, but I’ve come across a few guys who call themselves “IPMS Senior Nationals Judges” who still don’t grasp what it is that the Society is trying to accomplish–they see it is a zero-sum, win-lose “bloodsport”, damn the “casual hobby” aspects of it.  In short, they’re bullies, bent on choosing only the models THEY deem as an appropriate “winner”.  You don’t see this often at the Nationals level, but it is still hanging around in the Local/Regional areas.  These guys are the ones who are insistent on judging accuracy, so you’ll know how to spot them…)

    What the IPMS 1-2-3 system has going for it is speed–you can evaluate and judge a room full of models in a few hours.  A good team of judges can take a category of 20 models and determine the winners in less than 30 minutes.  (It also appeals to most Americans’ desire to be called a “winner”, where 2nd place is the “First loser”.)

    Now, let’s take a look at Open Judging (sometimes erroneously referred to a Gold-Silver-Bronze system) as employed by AMPS:

    AMPS uses an open system where your models are placed in front of a panel of three or four judges and the model evaluated to a written “standard”, and are judged in a “stand-alone” situation rather than being compared to the other models it competes with. (That standard merely quantifies the basics–alignment, construction, detailing, and finish–the very same basics that IPMS judges are taught to evaluate.  And note that neither organization judges accuracy.)

    AMPS has several skill levels–Junior, Basic, Intermediate, and Advanced.  It is a ladder system—as your skills improve, you can be promoted to the next highest skill level.  This usually takes place at the annual AMPS International Convention.  (AMPS is one of the few hobby groups that also has a Master level–The National Model Railroad Association is the other, they feature a path to Master Model Railroader.  Rather than just proclaim yourself a “Master Modeler” because you’ve built a gazillion models, won at the Nationals, and maybe written a few articles for a magazine, in order to become an AMPS Master you must win Judge’s Best of Show at the AMPS International Convention.  And, in order to do that, you have to be an Advanced member who earns a Gold at that show, and then go on to win Best of Show.  ONE person gets elevated to AMPS Master per year.)  

    The judges write comments on the score sheet, and you get that score sheet back at the end of the show. (Most AMPS modelers want the score sheet with the judges’ comments more that they want the medal–we have one guy in our AMPS Chapter who routinely earns a fistful of medals every year, and he gives them back to us every year.)  

    AMPS certifies their judges through a standardized training system.  (Up until a few years ago, it was administered by their Chief Judge, who would travel from show to show to train new judges, ensuring uniformity.  These days, there is a team of trainers.)

    The AMPS OJT consists of sitting for two shifts after you’ve received the classroom training.  Only then do you get your credentials.  (IPMS’ OJT criteria aren’t as stringent.  Not to say the way IPMS does it is “wrong” and AMPS is “right”, just throwing it out there to compare and contrast.  IPMS judges only receive “credentials” after 20 years as a judge at the National Convention.)

    In theory (and in practice 99% of the time), a model that earns a Gold medal in a given skill level at one show will earn the same medal at another AMPS show.  (In other words, there is documented repeat-ability in the system.)

    Now, here are the drawbacks.  Open Judging, done correctly, takes time.  A lot of time.  We (AMPS Central South Carolina) host a show every year.  Registration opens at 8:30, the show runs until 5.  Judging starts at 8:30 and runs until approximately 3PM–and this is for around 100 models.  (Most IPMS local and regional shows draw a few hundred, and a National Convention draws a few thousand models.  Most AMPS local shows–they call them regional–draws around 100, and their International show draws a couple hundred for scoring.)

    The associated drawback (for some) is how AMPS actually confers awards.  If you bring seven armor models, all in different categories, you have the potential to take home seven medals.  But if you bring seven Sherman tanks, all in U.S. Army markings, you will take home the highest medal awarded to your body of work because their all entered into the same category.  In other words, AMPS rewards the modeler and his or her efforts, not individual models.  So, AMPS is sometimes seen as limiting the number of models entered by doing this.  (Those who poo-poo that idea don’t realize that AMPS has always had Display Only space at their shows, something IPMS has struggled with through the years.) 

    The only place where someone at an AMPS contest can be a “winner” (in the “I’m Number One!” sense) is in the Best Of’s.  The Best Of’s are chosen by taking all of the Advanced level Gold medal winners in a given category and judging them in an identical fashion to the IPMS 1-2-3 system: count the flaws and compare between the eligible models.  Best of Show takes all the category Best Of’s and does the same thing.  Otherwise, you are submitting a 3D research paper and getting a grade.

    All that being said, is one system better than the other?  I don’t know.  It all depends on what is expected from a model show.

    If you want to be The God of Styrene for that week and have all the bragging rights associated with the title, if you want to be the Big Winner, you probably prefer the 1-2-3 system.  It is a system, as we have discussed, that picks winners and losers.  You won’t learn much from the exercise.

    If you want to measure your abilities as a modeler, learn from your mistakes, and climb the ladder as you gain experience, the Open Judging system is probably the one you will choose.  You get that feedback from the judges telling you what they saw on your model, both good and bad.  You take that feedback and apply what you’ve learned to your next model.

    Something else you ought to know–these days there are several IPMS Chapters who have used what they call a hybrid system, where the categories are evaluated as normal in a 1-2-3 system, then the top 5 or 6 models get the Open Judging score sheet treatment.  I don’t like this–the people at the top really don’t need the score sheet and comments, as they usually have a pretty good grasp on what they’re doing (yeah, sometimes we “experienced” modelers make boneheaded mistakes and don’t realize it, but usually we’re on top of things).  The folks that don’t make the cut are the ones who could really use the coaching.  Plus, by not treating all the models entered in the show the same way, you insert a double standard into the mix.

    I’ve seen some rather pointed comments made after a show here in the Southeast concluded, the group having adopted one of these hybrid systems.  The main comment from one person I know was (and I’m paraphrasing here), “I got two Silvers, but if I wanted critique on my models with feedback, I’d take it to the club meeting.  I want to know where I stand when I’m stacked up against other modelers.”

    This all leads me to my last suggestion:  Before you enter any contest, read the rules applicable to said contest.  Don’t like the rules?  Don’t play the game.  It is as easy as that.  If you see the show is running an Open system, and you don’t like it, don’t play.  I can assure you that the show organizers aren’t going to change their judging system for you.

    Finally, here’s some good reading material for you…

    IPMS has their rules and a Modelers Guide to IPMS Contests available on their website.  They are downloadable, and are worth perusing.

    Here’s a link to the AMPS system and philosophy.

    Both make good reading.

    That’s all I have this time.  More later.

    Thanks for reading.  Be good to one another, and as always, I bid you Peace.

  • In the days of yore…

    (Or:  Hey, Grandpa, tell us a story…)

    As the Cajun Chef Justin Wilson would say, "How y'all are?  I'm so glad for you to see me some more!" 

    Since we last crossed paths, a lot has happened.  Our Mesa Project is over, ended prematurely by our customer.  So, no more treks cross-continent–which is a good thing and a bad thing, because as long as it wasn't in the summer months, I enjoyed the time I spent in Arizona.  This also means that I've been between projects since January, which means I have time on my hands–and time that isn't always spent in the best of manners. 

    I guess that's why I volunteered to "un-retire" and ask the guys in the local IPMS Chapter to trust me to run the club for a few years.  "I wanted a mission, and for my sins, they gave me one…"

    So, having time on my hands and something that I need to spend time on has got me writing articles for our club newsletter.  I've done a few so far, and I have two or three more lurking out there amongst my research materials on projects near and dear to me.  The first I wrote was a short piece on the various Army missile sites situated in and around South Florida during the aftermath of the Cuban Missile crisis and how those spots look today.  Since we're in South Carolina, and I have never seen anyone in the club do so, I also did a two-part history of the 169 Fighter Wing, the flying unit of the South Carolina Air National Guard.  Waiting in the wings?  I'd like to do a short piece on the 321st and 340th Bombardment Groups, two units that were assembled and trained here at what is now the Columbia Metropolitan Airport.  I've also been refining my "Model Building 101" seminar that I first presented at the 2016 IPMS/USA National Convention.  And, while all this has been fun, it has caused me to do some digging in back issues of old magazines–where I'm greeted almost every time with some sort of "Blast from the Past"…

    The first thing I recalled were the Alpha Cyanoacrylate Cements (ACC, also known as CA, "Super Glue", "Krazy Glue", and a host of other trade and nicknames) that we had available to us in the day.  Dad would usually have one of the syrette-type tubes of Krazy Glue hanging around, and every now and then he'd bring home an expired bottle of Eastman 910, the great-granddaddy of all ACCs from work–he worked at a bio-medical company for a while and they paid strict attention to dates.  The glue was still perfectly fine, except the date on the container said it couldn't be used. 

    A few years later, I found Satellite City's "Hot Stuff"–the original bottles were flat-topped and used the little piece of Teflon tubing as an applicator nozzle.  And, boy, did it work!  I first discovered it when my brother was building a Dumas tunnel-hull radio control boat.  I happened to be building my one and only "real" model (according to Dad), a Guillows large scale Spitfire.  I used Titebond for most of the construction–I wasn't concerned with weight, since I was building it as a shelf sitter–but when I needed to lock something into place NOW, I'd hit it with Hot Stuff, and pow, it was secured.  I tried it on some of the plastic models I built later on, and found that it worked fairly well on them, but that I was still a bit lacking in my technique–so what I usually wound up with was a misaligned bit of model that took a while to sort out.  But it was good stuff, and it is actually still available.  In the years since, I've used the Pacer "Zap" line of ACC, Carl Goldberg's "Jet", the "Krazy Glue" formulations, and the Bob Smith Industries products, but if it was still as readily available as it was in the early 1980's, I'd probably still be using Hot Stuff…these days, Bob Smith is what is usually available, so it is what I use…

    Another product from days gone by are fillers.  Back in my formative years, there was only one readily available hobby filler worth using, and that was good, old, Squadron Green Putty.  And boy, did I use it by the metric ton.  I'd glue the parts together, and once the glue was dry I'd smear a nice bead of putty on every seam.  I guess I liked sanding for weeks back then, I dunno.  As my technique improved, and as I realized that I didn't need to use the whole tube on just one model, I started to use less.  At some point, I used Duratite putty, and later tried the Dr. Microtools' red putty–nice stuff, but if you are painting something white, it was a huge pain in the hinder.  About the same time, Squadron introduced their White Putty.  I've used it ever since, at least as far as solvent-based putties go.  I've added a few to my arsenal–namely, CA, Deluxe Products' Perfect Plastic Putty, and Apoxie Sculp.  That last one reminded me that I originally used Duro's E-Pox-E Ribbon–you probably remember it if you used it, it has a blue and a yellow component, and when it cured it was this garish green color.  Once I discovered Milliput, thought, I switched.  And, when Apoxie Sculp debuted and I could get it easier than Milliput, I switched.

    But of all the products I look back on, the one that I always come to is paint.  In my kid days building models in the neighborhood, you were either a Testors fan or a Pactra kid–a lot depended on where you shopped for paint.  It seems to me that the drug store closest to the house (as well as the local K-Mart and Treasury discount store) carried the Testors Pla Enamels, and the drug store across the street carried Pactra 'Namel.  Back then, we only knew we needed paint, we weren't particular, but I was always under the impression that the Testors bottles held more paint that the jewel-faceted 'Namel jars did.  I used the Testors Flats, mostly, and continued to use them when I transitioned from using the hairy stick to using the airbrush for my final finishes.  That is, until about 1981…

    Remember my stories of the Otaki Corsair, and how it became my Great White Whale, and how I so thoroughly botched my first attempt that I had to wait until the shop got another kit?  Between those two, I built the Otaki Hellcat, and since I had already bought the paint for the Corsairs, I'd simply use them on the Hellcat, too.  These were different–these were the square bottles of Pactra's Authentic International Colors.  And boy, how I loved that paint.  I had discovered that using Aero Gloss Dope thinner really cut the Testors flat enamel paint and made it lay down well and flash quickly, and it held no surprises when I did the same with the Pactra stuff.  Of course, my luck being what it is, a few months after I discovered the stuff, it was being discontinued.  No matter, as I was in for a change anyway…

    When I started college, I was trying to be considerate to my roommates, so I tried the original Polly-S.  For those of you younger than 30, this was the original hobby "acrylic"–actually, it was latex paint.  It hand brushed very nicely, but to airbrush it was a bit of a crap shoot.  See, you could thin it with water or alcohol, neither of which was 100% reliable with any given bottle of paint.  Some bottles would do well with either, other bottles would only work well with water, and some bottles would curdle into a tight little ball if you tried alcohol.  I got real good at troubleshooting paint in those days, and I used it until it, too, was starting to pass from the scenes.  When I couldn't get colors like RLM02 and Non-Spec Sea Blue, it was telling me that I needed to find a new paint.  It actually found me…

    About the same time Polly-S was sinking, the gang at Floquil had begun to produce the "re-formulated" military colors, in the form of their "new" (for 1992-ish) line.  Now, I was quite content to use Polly-S (as well as the Tamya and Gunze/GSI acrylics), but given the range of colors, I just had to try the new Floquil line.  I did.  I liked it.  I used it.  Well, until the advent of PollyScale…

    There were other acrylics that I tried back in the day, too.  I liked the original Tamiya acrylics.  They were an absolute joy to use.  They then started to fiddle with the chemistry of their paints, and for several years I simply could not get it to work, come Hell or high water.  I also liked the Gunze Aqueous line to an extent, but I found that it didn't give as good a coverage as the others did.  Along the way, I also tried the Testor Model Master Acrylics (the line that preceded the Acryl colors we have now), and found them to be the most useless model paint I ever encountered.  The experience I had with them colored my opinion of the later Acryl line until I tried them. 

    Then there was "Niche"/"Red Paint".  They came out in the early 1990's with these supposed hyper-accurate paints formulated for late war Luftwaffe and Soviet colors.  I have actually had good results with the one bottle of "Soviet Dielectric Green" I bought (check out the MiG-21 I built–the antennas are all done with this paint), and wish I had bought more when it was available.  

    I tried the ProModeler paints once, too–the less said, the better.  They weren't as useless as the Testor Model Master Acrylics, but they came pretty close.

    Coming full circle, one of the last of the "others" that I really liked were the Pactra Acrylics.  And, as my luck runs, it wasn't around long once I discovered it.

    Back to PollyScale.  Bar none, this is the best acrylic I have ever used, before or since.  I liked it so much that I simply gave away all my Floquil enamels.  If this stuff was still around, I'd be using it.  No question.  But, as we have seen from RPM (the parent company of Testors, Bondo, and Rust-Oleum) a few times, well, they just couldn't bear having "sister company" (as Floquil was at the time) show up the Home Team.  Yep, they discontinued the PollyScale colors in favor of the Acryls…

    Since PollyScale went away, I have re-learned how to use Tamiya colors, I have liked the Acryls, and I have adopted a new favorite in the form of Vallejo Model Air.  Sure, it isn't PollyScale, but as I have been experimenting and getting used to it, I like the stuff.  I've been able to pull off some pretty nice paint jobs–see the Hasegawa F-111F, the pair of Corsairs, and the ER-2 as proof.  They make the best, to my mind, acrylic metallic colors, too, as the MiG-21 proves.  So, while my winding road through the world of hobby paint has been long and slightly tortured, I think I'm where I need to be.

    ———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

    And this doesn't even scratch the surface of the list of the kit manufacturers we had back in the day.  We had Otaki and Nichimo, neither of which are around any more, although Arii picked up the Otaki line for a while–it is now marketed by Micro Ace in Japan.  We had Fujimi, kits from whom have only recently started to hit these shores again.  We had Life-Like, Inpact, ESCI, SMER, VEB/Plasticart–none of which have survived to today. 

    And, the latest additions to the list:  Monogram and Revell.  They were victims of the Hobbico bankruptcy.  Hopefully, the new owners of Revell Germany–who now own the entire Revell and Monogram catalog–will re-establish some sort of U.S. branch, but I'm not holding my breath.

    On the other hand, due to the efforts of Round 2 Models, the likes of AMT, MPC, Lindberg, Hawk, and Polar Lights…

    Perhaps next time, we'll take a look at those manufacturers.

    Until then, thanks for reading.  Be good to one another, and I bid you Peace.

     

  • 1984

    Greetings!

    Now, before you get all excited and start running about, I'm not referring to George Orwell's vision.  Rather, I'm looking back 30 years and remembering some of the things that made 1984 a sort of comeback year for me…

    For starters, I found myself unemployed and not in school for the first time in my life on New Year's Day in 1984.  I had taken my leave from the Harvard of the Sky–engineering physics and I didn't get along, especially when physics had backup on the beat-down in the form of Calculus 3.  Between those two courses, I had a dismal GPA for the Fall 1983 semester and decided that engineering as a career for me wasn't in the cards.  I went down to the AFROTC Detachment (I had an AFROTC Scholarship at the time) and spoke a bit with my advisor.  He and I talked for about an hour, and both came to the conclusion that all the summer terms in the world weren't going to suddenly make me a mathematical genius.  My math skills were pretty good, but not good enough.  So, I didn't register for spring semester and came home.

    Funny how things can happen–I went looking for a job on 2 January 1984 and was hired almost immediately as a parts driver for a local HVAC parts house.  After a week or so of that, one of their systems engineers found out that I wasn't just doing this because I didn't know any better, and I would sometimes be called in to watch how home and industrial HVAC systems are engineered–so many square feet of space called for so many tons of capacity, so many BTUs were required to heat X amount of space, etc.  It was all pretty neat stuff, and I appreciated all they were doing for me.  Between parts runs, I learned quite a bit–and was tempted to pursue a career in that.  But aviation, once it wiggles down into your blood, tends to have a strong pull…

    I worked there all summer.  One day I got a phone call from one of my advisors at Embry-Riddle, wanting to know what I was doing and what my plans were.  At the time, I was still trying to just chill out a bit and leave the stress and, well, disappointment of engineering behind me (and earn some coin, but that should be obvious).  I let them know what I was up to, and that I had several things banging around in my head, and that I'd let them know when the time came.  That time came in June–I took a Friday off work and drove back to Daytona Beach.  I met with some folks, and found out how easy it would be for me to come back–I never formally withdrew from the school, so I was still carried on their rolls.  I first visited my AFROTC friends.  We spent a few hours speaking with some of the other Department Chairmen, and after speaking with the man heading up the Avionics program, my mind was made up.  I would return in August.

    With my future now decided, I went back to work.  I don't say this to be self-congratulatory, but I was the hardest working parts driver/stock man/all around helper that location had.  I know this because the higher-ups told me so.  They were especially let down when I gave them my notice, but when I told them that my two choices were to learn–unofficially–from them, or go back to school and learn aviation electronics, I think it got them to understand.  I was told that if I needed summer work, they would be there.  So, I ended my employment with them in mid-August.

    Remember that 1984 was an Olympic Games year, too–back when Winter and Summer games were held in the same year, no less.  The Winter games were held in Sarajevo, Yugoslavia.  I paid little attention to them, because work and the time difference made keeping track of the events a bit difficult.  What saddens me know is to see what has become of the venues built for the Games–most of them are crumbling, the result of the unrest, fighting, and other issues between the ethnic factions that finally led to the break-up of Yugoslavia into its constituent Republics.  Sad…

    The Summer games, on the other hand, were different–they were held in Los Angeles in 1984.  The overshadowing news was that the Soviet Union, acting in response to the West's boycott of the 1908 Games, had decided to sit 1984 out.  They, along with the majority of Eastern Bloc countries, sat at home while the Games went on.  The reason I remember it so well was than coverage of most events came on right as I was getting back to the house after work, so I could pay attention to all of them.  It was the last Olympic Summer games that I really paid close attention to.  Since then, various reasons have kept me from watching…

    On the modeling front, I actually started to keep a log of kits I completed.  The first for 1984 was the ESCI 1/48 scale Fieseler Storch.  It was an easy build until I got to the part about sticking the wings to the greenhouse.  I used 5-minute epoxy, and got a fairly decent result–I amazed myself that I didn't wind up with epoxy all over everything! 

    I next turned my attention to a Tamiya 1/48 Brewster Buffalo.  It was probably the quickest "serious" model I had built to that point–everything just clicked together.  I was tempted by the early Navy scheme, but I settled on the Dutch scheme, because my metal finish techniques were sorely lacking and I didn't want to ruin the model.  My impressions of Tamiya airplane kits would be reinforced soon…

    Next on the hit parade was the Nichimo 1/48 scale Ki-43 Oscar.  If you read opinions on this kit, they're all almost universally positive.  And for good reason–the kit packs a lot of detail into a small airplane, the fit is superlative, and this all in a kit dating from the late 1970's.  I tried some weathering techniques on this one–I used a silver Tamiya paint marker to prime seams back then, and I would paint the seams and rub the excess paint off with a paper towel.  I reconed that if I added blotches of silver here and there, I could "chip" the Polly S paints I was using for the camouflage.  It worked out fairly well, I think, and I kept trying to expand my horizons from that model on to the next, and the next…

    This was also the summer when I attempted to build Monogram's 1/48 scale F-84F.  For a reason or reasons lost to history, I cannot recall why I never finished the model.  All I have from that model is the dolly and a few bits and pieces.  After that, I wound up building Monogram's 1/48 scale F-100D in Arkansas ANG colors.  I did that because, as I said before, my metal finishes at the time looked like dog poop…

    Last for the summer, I decided to refinish a Monogram 1/48 scale B-17G that I had built in the late 1970's, maybe 1979.  I had airbrushed it, but it was one of my first airbrushed models and looked the part.  There were visible seams and some other issues with the model, so I took it down from the shelf and started working on the bad areas.  Within a week, it was ready for paint again.  I had used a Microscale sheet to finish the F-100 and was suitably impressed–first time using them, you know.  So, I went in search of a sheet for the B-17.  I found one I liked (unit and aircraft are again lost to history–I didn't log how they were finished, just that I finished them) and set to work.  I used a combination of Polly S and Tamiya acrylics for the finish, and this one was the best, to that point, airbrushed finish I had ever laid down.  The model went back on the shelf, an old girl in a new dress.

    (That Tamiya Buffalo would also get a re-work in the early 1990's–which is how it still resides, hidden away in a box upstairs…)

    I returned to good old Humpty Diddle in August.  I had to register for classes.  I had remembered to change my major and catalog at the Registrar's office when I was there in June, so half my battle had been won.  Then I get to the registration lines.  I think it is a universal college policy that beginning of the semester registration is meant to be as huge a pain in the ass as possible to all involved.  See, during my engineering days, I had to re-take a few courses.  As far as the Aeronautical Studies/Aeronautics courses were concerned, I was through with all of my math classes by virture of my Calculus I and Calculus II courses.  During those engineering semesters, I had managed to complete all but maybe one or two Humanities/History courses, too.  I was only looking to register for the required Physics and first semester Aero Studies courses.  I couldn't get into any of the Electronics courses since all the sections were filled, so I settled for what I could get.  After I got through that, I had to go play housing lottery.  After about two hours of back-and-forth, I managed to get into Residence Hall 2, aka Dorm 2, aka "The Embry-Riddle Holiday Inn".  I had lived here through my engineering days, so I know what to expect.  I met the roommates and suitemates (two rooms to a suite, three people to a room), all of whom were Aero Science guys (they were all working towards pilot certificates)–except one.  He was in engineering.  He was a quiet kid, and engineering wasn't any kinder to him than it was me.  I kinda felt sorry for the kid…after all, I'm now the older, wiser me…

    Classes were literally a breeze.  By the end of that semester, I would have all my prerequisite courses behind me and the next three and a half years would be solid electronics and avionics courses, along with the Aero Studies courses.  See, there was no single avionics major, you took a major and added avionics.  You could take an Aviation Maintenance major and avionics (you wound up with an Airfram and Powerplant certificate and the avionics degree) or Aeronautical Studies with avionics, which is how I went.  Basically, you took all the ground school courses for flight, but no flight courses.  So, I learned basic aerial navigation and meteorology to go along with my electron theory.  Over the years, the school changed how they treated avionics until finally phasing it out a few years ago in favor of an Electronic Engineering degree program…

    More modeling?  You bet–I had spare time, so I decided to build a Tamiya 1/48 A6M2.  This was another fall together kit, it was done in a week.  Yep, a week.  Needing something else to occupy my time, and figuring that the ESCI Storch was a cool kit, so I decided to build ESCI's 1/48 scale Hs-123.  Now that one was a challenge–first serious biplane, first masked camouflage scheme with Polly S, and the kit was rife with minor warpage–typical of ESCI's kits of that era.  Well, I managed to beat it into submission, and painted it up as a Spanish Civil War machine.  I may still have it in a box here somewhere, too, and I was sure to pick up the AMTech "enhanced" reissue of the kit a few years ago.  After all, who else is likely to do an Hs-123 in 1/48 scale?

    The best part of the year?  Going back to school.  I never had any intention of *not* going back to school–my father wouldn't abide it.  He was always pushing for education-I guess it stems from the fact that he had a GED when he started working, and worked hard in correspondence classes to earn a degree.  Dad was a self made man, and he did so through hard work and trying to better himself.  I was thinking about these "good old days", and once again realized what my parents did to make sure my brother and I were ready to face the cold, cruel world–the sacrifices they made to put us both through post-secondary education, the hard work they put in to keep a roof over our heads, food on the table, and lights on in the house.  So, by going back to school–even though I wasn't overtly pushed–I was doing as they wanted. 

    On reflection, maybe I should have worked for a year after high school, then gone to college.  Maybe I should have examined engineering closer and realized that it was a bit beyond my abilities.  You can reach for the brass ring, and if you grab it on the first try, great.  I seem to reach for the ring, get a light grip on it, and then lose that slight grasp.  Rather than giving up, I'll take a breather and try again.  I usually grab that sucker for all I'm worth on the second go around, and once I have it in my grasp I never let go–I seem to cherish it more when I do that.  It has worked for me my entire life…

    Oh, yeah.  The Apple Macintosh also goes on sale in 1984, Constatin Chernenko succeeds Yuri Andropov as General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, Pierre Trudeau steps down as the Canadian Prime Minister, and Marvin Gaye's father shoots and kills the singer. 

    Musically, Van Halen released their "1984" album, giving us "Panama", "Hot For Teacher", "I'll Wait", and "Jump".  Duran Duran were touring, suppoting "Seven and the Ragged Tiger", which gave us "The Reflex", "Union of the Snake", and "New Moon on Monday".  Meanwhile, Prince and the Revolution topped the Billboard Top 100 with "When Doves Cry".  What was #100?  "Yah Mo Be There", by James Ingram and Michael McDonald…

    (I can't poke too much fun–my beloved Jethro Tull released "Under Wraps".  Not one of their best albums ever.  By far.  Even Tull's then-bassist Dave Pegg said the songs cut from 1983's "Broadsword and the Beast" would have made a better album.  Trivia time–it was the only Tull album with no live drummer–drum machines were used instead.  Doane Perry would be hired shortly after this album and was their full-time drummer until 2011.  He still occasionally tours with them.)

    The big news items in the United States for 1984, though, were generated by President Ronald Reagan.  In August, during a sound check for a radio broadcast, he says "My fellow Americans, I'm pleased to tell you today that I've signed legislation that will outlaw Russia forever.  We begin bombing in five minutes".  He alos is re-elected (with George H. W. Bush as his Vice President) in a landslide victory in November, beating Democrats Walter Mondale and Geraldine Ferraro, carrying 49 states and 59% of the popular vote.

     Oh, and as an aside:  When you get an ROTC scholarship, you are basically sworn in as enlisted personnel.  Because I vacated my AFROTC scholarship, a Review Board convened.  It was decided that I wasn't vacating the scholarship for any reason other than it would be a waste of money to have me keep banging my head against a wall as an egineering student.  For my troubles, I received a package from the United States Air Force sometime in April.  Now, some fellow scholarship recipients were receiving orders to attend basic training at Lackland AFB, Texas.  I was slightly concerend until I opened the envelope.  I was granted an Honorable Discharge from the United States Air Force.  As an Airman Basic.  No orders.  One of my roommates at the time wasn't as lucky–his orders appeared a week after he got home in December, 1983.  He showed the Air Force, though–he went down and joined the Army before the Air Force caught up with him.  Many who knew this guy swore he joined the army only so he could get a good, up close look at an M1 Abrams tank so he could build a superdetailed model of one…

    I hope this finds all of you in good health.  Thanks for reading, and be good to one another.  I bid you Peace.