TheRail-Car
“Maahunui”
Successful Trial Runs

“Majestic, stately, shining in the sunlight, it approached like the gorgeous howdah of some Eastern potentate,”

In those words Mr. O. N. Gillespie gives his first impression of the Rail-Car, “Maahunui” (Mah-hoo-noo-ee).

The following article describes the first of several newly-designed rail-cars for passenger transport between Wellington and Palmerston North, via the Rimutaka Incline and the Wairarapa.

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Public interest in the rail-car, “Maahunui.” A scene at a station platform.

I Went, a week ago, for my first ride in a rail-car. The man who first thought of “midland red” as the standard colour for the New Zealand Railways was a genius, but I would have liked him to have been standing with us when this handsome new landship backed into the Petone Station. Majestic, stately, shining in the sunlight, it approached like the gorgeous howdah of some Eastern potentate.

I have seen no more satisfying architectural design of a transport vehicle on land or sea than that of the “Maahunui,” the Dominion's aptly named first large rail car. Its lines are smooth and the contour graceful, and it lacks all the grimness and look of rugged and lumpish power that makes a locomotive engine so formidable and awe-aspiring. In the latter one has to be a “M'Andrew,” an engineer, to find beauty. In the former a dress designer, or a decorative painter would see good colour and exquisite taste in line and pattern. Even the headlamp is incorporated in the sweep of the front elevation, like a Cyclopean eye. I found, on entering, that there was already assembled a full team. As this was a “shop trial,” or test run, the General Manager had got a full muster of players, from the wireless expert to the transportation superintendent, from the guard to the engineers with rows of letters after their names. It was like a full meeting of the Professorial Board of the Railways, with a contingent of assistants, and a handy - looking crew of bright but earnest lads in overalls. These latter sat in the long back seat until some minor trouble intervened; then they rose as one man and went “over the top” cheerily. “Over the top” here means and includes as a legal tome would say, under sideways, lengthways and other ways. There were practically fifty of us, and it was an instance of the detailed attention provided for on the journey that one officer took a survey of our total weight. I should say that most of this population consisted of those who had taken an integral part in the creation of the “Maahunui,” and I am not ashamed to admit at once, that I found my interest wavering unsteadily between the car itself and its occupants. “The durned thing” as Artemus Ward would say, seemed to have developed a soul and these men were, in their last essence, component parts of a multiple personality. It was an indescribable atmosphere, a good deal of which, I am positive, was generated by the electric enthusiasm, the untiring vigour, and the sporting spirit of devotion to the job in hand, of Mr. G. H. Mackley, the General Manager. He gave a direct negation to all the book theorems of physics by being everywhere at the one time. A crowd of intent faces was gathered round at one piece of the journey, inspecting through the floor, the working of the

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The “Maahunui” passing through Petone station on its outward journey.

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The “Maahunui” glides gracefully through the Hutt Valley, near Wellington.

distributor. I had thoughts of disturbing their rapt concentration by suggesting that they used the General Manager's energy, as I was sure that he had already developed more horsepower than any dynamo I had yet encountered. However, the atmosphere was too intense for this rather crude type of humour.

The interior of the car is a vision of comfort and aesthetic refinement. The chairs are in pairs, of tubular construction, and are chromium plated. This gleaming silver effect matches with the windows which are of half drop type set in aluminium frames. The window openings can be adjusted to any size. The seats are bucket shaped, of soft-toned brown leather, comfortably cushiony with head-rests and handy foot-bar rests. Sleep in them is easy, and the smooth motion is insidiously efficient in this direction (this is from experience). Heating is secured by hot air circulated by electric fans, and it is kept at an even temperature by thermostatic control. There is special roof ventilation. The electric light fittings were of a design new to me, neat oblongs of white frosted glass with plain borders. The floor is rubber-covered. There is accommodation for a ton of luggage, there being, as well as a special compartment, a container underneath the car.

Then there is the wireless. It is certainly a new thing in rail travel to hear, half way between The Summit and Cross Creek, “The ball bounced badly for Foley there, and Athletic are right down on the Eastbourne line … short throw … line out taking place five yards from the Eastbourne line — grandstand side … they're over, they're over!”

The only time the radio drops out is in the middle of the longer tunnels, and it is strange to hear it slowly reasserting itself as the hill above gets shallower and the tunnel mouth approaches. As you will readily perceive, the easy audibility of the wireless entails that the car running is practically noiseless. Even the “clickety-clack” is not so pronounced as in an ordinary carriage. Actual engine noise is non-existent except for a purr that is almost an undertone in velvet. There is the feeling of being on a magic carpet. Nothing seems to be producing motion; the scenery is simply slipping by, and Masterton getting closer. The wayside spectacle produces good bits all the way, too. Railway lines in New Zealand, in common with the rest of the world afford a succession of views of back gardens with many-coloured washing on the line and now and again little Billy playing with the kid next door, the back gate well shut by a careful mother.

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A flashlight photograph en route. The Hon. D. G. Sullivan, Minister of Railways (left), and the General Manager of Railways (right), are seen standing at the end in the photograph.

As our wonderful new affair on wheels goes speeding past, back doors fly open, kitchen steps are lined in a flash with open-mouthed, waving spectators. A long way up the line, one disrespectful country bloke dusted the line with his somewhat battered “lid” and bowed us past.

The sensation of swimming along through the atmosphere was rather increased by this processional reverence with which we were greeted. Inside the car, however, all was intense study and thoughtful concentration. This was the first trip over the Rimutakas, and every now and then something was looked over in readiness for its ordeal. It must be explained that the high central rail for the Fell engines to grip on the steep part of the world famous incline presented a very real difficulty to the rail car designers. The cars for use on this sector had to be specially built to overcome this, and they have an overhang of ten feet over the wheel base at each end. In the cars for other lines much of this can be eliminated. However, it is sufficient to say that on both sides of The Summit, including that dread piece of line with the projecting third rail, the car behaved angelically. Coming back from Cross Creek, the performance, compared with the doughty Fell engines, at one time regarded as the last word in powerful climbing mechanisms, was marvellous. It was the difference between Cuddle and a Clydesdate. “Maahunui” went down with caution but supreme confidence and climbed back like a chamois. It must be page 12 page 13

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The Prime Minister, the Rt. Hon. M. J. Savage, addressing a gathering on the platform at Pahiatua, Wairarapa.

remembered, too, that all internal combustion engines require to be “run in,” so that we were under every possible handicap.

On the way back, I had a seat in the driver's cabin. He has a panoramic view through a clear window and his personal control is complete. A large dashboard contains the self starter, light switches, and a button for shutting off the engine. Various levers for setting the car in motion and for brake control surround the driver, and he operates the mechanism that enables the doors to open, nor will they open until he touches the “gadget.” There are also, by the way, emergency doors at the back with a simple set of instructions. A picked team of world class in brains, expert skill and experience, has combed over every single item that makes for efficiency, speed, and the comfort of users. Not one item seems to have been forgotten, and every final decision has been made only after exhaustive discussion, endless trial and rigid selection.

On the mechanical side, when it comes to passing upon engineering problems, I have one very safe rule. I do not go into details or crossexamine with a scanty and amateurish knowledge of a few principles. The man who does this always reminds me of a meatworks’ hand offering a good surgeon advice on an appendicitis operation. I enquire, “Does it work?” Well, the answer here is, that the driving mechanism of the rail car not only works, but works perfectly. The idea of a vehicle running on its own power on a rail line is not new. The steam engine does that, as a matter of fact. Rail cars are a quarter of a century old. There was one on the books in 1915, and there had been others before that. The Electric Westinghouse Rail Car gave service for eleven years before it was written off. Then there were the Sentinel Steam Car, the Thomas Petrol Car, the Clayton Steam Car, and several others.

The trouble was the transmission. Anyone who has handled a car on the road across the Rimutakas, can imagine what sort of driving skill would be required to handle a fiftypassenger vehicle's gear changes on the much more mixed steep gradients on the rail route. These difficulties exist in a spectacular degree here, by contrast with other countries. A grade of 1 in 100 is practically unknown in England, whereas our Limited has to contend with plenty of 1 in 36. In addition, there is our curve problem with its bearing on speed control. We possess the world's record in our proportion of sharp bends, and over twenty-five per cent. of our total mileage of route is on a curved track.

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The “Maahunul” crossing the Otaki railway bridge between Wellington and Palmerston North.

It is the invention known as the “torque” converter that has made the rail car possible, expedient, and efficient. Be reminded that our engineers are familiar with the problems of rail cars. In 1926 two were built, one at Petone and one at Addington, and our men know of every fault which developed to make them failures in practice.

This new drive is simple, sure, and remarkably easy to handle. Those readers who keep up-to-date on motor car development know that something like it is in existence as standard equipment on several leading English and American cars. On the rail car the converter is used until a speed of about 15 m. p. h. is attained, when the direct drive is used. The upward movement of speed is natural, gradual, and there is a total absence of jolt either in stopping, slowing, or starting. Power is provided by a 150 horsepower engine, petrol driven, six cylindered. The first six cars will be petrol driven, but the seventh, a semi-goods car will have a Diesel engine.

As to the general construction, the body is of steel except the panelling which is of aluminium. The length is 50 feet, the width 9 feet, and the height 11 feet 6 inches. It is of the six-wheeled type, with reverse gear for shunting en route and at terminals. The next instalment, made larger for the longer journey to New Plymouth, will be equipped with dual engines with a drive at each end; in ordinary words they will be “double-enders.”

The next thing to examine is, “What will they Do?” Our railways management has one outstanding historical record. Its announcement is followed by performance. Like Napoleon, when a victory was promised, it duly arrived.

Apart from all the extra advantages of comfort and amenities, the rail car will cut the journey from Wellington to Masterton Nth., and from Wellington to Masterton, to a little more than two hours. It will safely negotiate the Rimutaka incline at from 15 to 17 miles per hour. Sixty miles per hour is an easy speed to attain on the flat. In railway language, for instance, rail car service will provide 261,000 more passenger train miles per annum in the Wairarapa area. Then there is, of course, their marvellous mobility. The running cost is so low that a close run schedule is practicable. These vehicles can weave in and out between terminals on a timetable so liberal that all passenger traffic needs can be met with case. Now vanishes that old bogey, the mixed train. Our scattered population is linked by rail with an intensity and a generosity of line service that are marvels to every visitor. Our terminal cities even, are of relatively small populations, and the intervening stopping places are naturally almost microscopic. Yet they all expect rail service and, where users are few and intermittent, they can only be provided for at present, by passenger carriages attached to goods trains. The length of these is purely a matter of the exigencies of the goods traffic. I have travelled on dozens of them, and they lengthen and shorten, stop and start, bustle up and slow down, like the speeches in a bad tempered debate of a country town debating society.

The passenger who has waited for a good three-quarters of an hour, is all unknowing that four wagons of gravel have suddenly been shunted on a few miles down the line, that a telephone message an hour ago meant the unloading of timber trucks at an unexpected station, and that delay on a down train has held up the next crossing for twenty minutes—in spite of all the feverish ingenuity of the traffic man. The passenger fumes and worries, and must find somebody to blame. The truth is that passenger traffic at this hour and on this bit of route is so slim and irregular that a passenger train with a full crew would be an economic absurdity. Now enters the fairy; the new magic vehicle, the rail car. It can take care of all the human freight, leaving the drudgery of the carriage of goods to the everyday steam engine. It will enable the latter also to concentrate on its proper job without worry and preoccupation as to passenger needs. I regard, anyhow, most of the advantages claimed for road transport of goods, compared with rail, as largely illusory, but I think the rail car is going to substantially assist in the further strengthening of the railway position in this regard. The fort will be impregnable when these red beauties are swarming over all the sectors of traffic where they are required.

All this array of modern mechanical marvels would not be possible without the team of human miracle makers who wrought it. I did not pay proper attention to the radio announcer from the “Park” on this journey. As a low user of slang would say, I was “earwigging” most of the time. There is no more fascinating language than the talk of experts who are in love with their job. There is no more fascinating and praiseworthy spectacle than the view of a body of men who think they are in charge of an achievement and the achievement is in charge of them. The calibre of the professional chieftains of the New Zealand Railways, is known the world over. They were all present to a man. They were all inspired with the one single ideal, to make a success of this national need, this new thing in traction. Night-and-day brain-and-hand work has gone into this task. One chap at the workshops is said to have laughingly complained of the effect on his interior economy of ten pies eaten standing. Work has gone on in that great temple of the machine until one in the morning. This devotion has been general, and it would be invidious to set out a list of names who should go on a roll of honour, or to particularise the lapels that have earned decorations. Some of them should rightly be pinned on denim overalls. It is right to say, however, that in G. H. Mackley, the General Manager, there is the epitome of the pervading ideals of the great State service entitled the New Zealand Railway Department. The loyalty to him of the crew of the “Maahunui” was so obvious, and it was shown with such easy warmth by such a wide diversity of men, that its foundation in the democracy of human hearts and minds was unquestionable. The children at Cross Creek would subscribe to this, as well as the most highly trained, subtle-minded of his expert professional helpers. An instance worth quoting is the “Red Terror,” the name given to the smaller rail car in which the General Manager has pioneered over 30,000 miles. The name is a combination of respect and affection. It neatly describes the instrument which enabled a man of Mr. Mackley's endless and untiring energy to cover the territory in the most unexpected fashion, so that he might arrive anywhere at any time. Maui, I think, if he could return from the Polynesian Long Ago, would take pride in this landship named after his big canoe, and he would appreciate its captain. He would say that the new high deeds done in his name were splendid, and that the new magic is better than the old, finer and more fruitful of human good.

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Members of the Ministerial Party who travelled on the “Maahunui,” photographed at Woodville. From left, the Hon. F. Jones, the Hon. D. G. Sullivan, the Rt. Hon. M. J. Savage, the Hon. H. G. R. Mason, Mr. B. Roberts, M. P., Mr. G. H. Mackley, General Manager of Railways, the Hon. T. H. Armstrong, and the Hon. W. E. Parry.