P E R P E T U A L M O T I O N
The dinner dishes had been washed, and ten boys at Prince Helfrich’s boys’ camp gathered around the dying campfire. They sat on logs and talked about events of the day as they watched the darkness of evening slowly creep over the tops of the Three Sisters Mountains. Helfrich walked up to the fire. He and Veltie had been tending the pack animals. He took his place on a log near the fire and asked. “You boys want to hear a story?” The boys replied with a collective “Yes”.
“Unlike our other stories, of trappers in the Cascade mountains, tonight I’m going to tell you about an inventive miner named Tomas McCleary.
Gold was discovered in the Rogue River in 1851. Soon, gold miners came to the rugged canyon to set up camps and pan for gold. Most of them lived in tents and panned during the summer months. The more rugged individuals staked out “claims” by virtue of building a cabin. McCleary was one of those men who made the canyon his home. Unlike the other miners, who set up their camps by the river, McCleary sought privacy. He found a clearing above a high granite cliff overlooking the river. He built his cabin at the rear of the clearing, so it could not be seen from the river. It was rumored that his desire for solitude was because he was a wanted man. The clearing was large enough for a vegetable garden and three apple trees. He made it into his little paradise. He tamed the forest animals, especially the deer. One, a doe, was the most tame. He called her “Sweetheart”. She would eat out of his hand and let him pet her head.
Rather than panning for gold day after day, like the other miners, McCleary preferred to spend his time in his garden and working on his inventions. He would pan for gold only long enough to get what was needed to buy food and supplies. His shopping trips were arduous. The trail to town was a long and rugged hike. Because it was so difficult, he made the trip infrequently. He had packed in the tools and other materials needed to build his small one-room cabin. The centerpiece of his cabin was his cast-iron stove, which he also hauled down the Rogue River Trail to his cabin. He also carried the steel plate and angle iron used to build his perpetual motion machine.
Although he preferred his privacy, he would occasionally need food, supplies, and human contact. So on his trips, to town, he would spend an evening or two in the saloon with his friend Henry and other miners. The saloon had rooms to rent above the bar. McCleary would spend those nights there. On one occasion. he told the other miners about his perpetual motion machine. He told them that once you got it started rotating, it would continue to spin indefinately. They laughed at him thinking him to be drunk, joking or crazy. Henry laughed the loudest. McCleary insisted that his perpetual motion machine worked. Pointing to Henry he said “I will bring it next time I come to town. I will start it when you all are here at the saloon. If it is still rotating when the saloon closes, you, Henry, will pick up my tab for the evening’s food and drink. If it has stopped, ‘I will pay your tab.’ OK?” Henry laughed confidently as he said, “You’ve got yourself a bet.”
A month later, McLeary disassembled his machine. He secured the steel plate to his pack board. Then he lashed the two arms with weights to the bottom of his pack. In the morning, he hoisted his 90-pound pack onto his shoulders and started the long hike to town. Once there, he assembled the machine on the elevated wooden sidewalk outside the saloon. The strange-looking machine drew the attention of towns folk.
When his friends had all arrived at the saloon, McCleary showed them his machine and started the rotation. Three arms with weights made of bean cans filled with cement rotated around on a steel spindle. With each rotation, the arms were drawn in toward the spindle and then released to be thrust outward, propelling the rotation further. After watching it spin for a couple of minutes, the miners returned to the saloon to enjoy the evening of stories, laughs, women, and booze. Hours later, when the bartender made the last call, the miners staggered out to see if McCleary’s machine was still turning. They were astounded to find that it was spinning. Henry paid McCleary’s tab. None of them considered that curious bystanders may have given the arms a helpful boost to keep it spinning. In any case, it was in perpetual motion.
The next day, McCleary disassembled, packed, and carried his now famous, perpetual motion machine back down the long Rogue River Trail to his hidden cabin paradise.”
Copyright May, 2023, by Theodore “Tod” Lundy, Architect
Footnote: I have taken some liberty to elaborate on the story as Prince told it, but the essential events are as he told them. The miners’ names are not historically correct.