Designs

In recent years I have been attracted to a class of art which I have called “designs.” Mostly these are geometric constructions, involving both curved and straight lines, combinations of geometric figures such as squares, circles, rectangles, sometimes connected in various ways, sometimes not. Sometimes they bear a resemblance, or are based on real objects (as the driftwood pictures done this winter [1992]).

The design of course is enhanced in effect by the choice and combination of colors. I think my interest in this approach (essentially abstract art) started when I first really became aware of Northwest Indian art. This occurred on the trip Jean and I made to Vancouver Island and British Columbia when we visited some museums in Vancouver displaying this art form. The Northwest Indian art depicts real animals etc., but it is semi-abstract in character and it is only a small step away from complete abstraction. In fact the first few attempts I made along this line used Indian designs as a basis, modified in some cases but in others following fairly closely the original Indian work.

I find that the work I have done along this line pleases me quite a bit and I find it emotionally satisfying. Perhaps some of the satisfaction in it comes from my engineering background — I always liked mechanical drawing and drafting and these are certainly related to the “designs” as I term them.

Presently the picture Jean has chose to hang over the fireplace is one of the designs which I have named “Roman Candles.” I submitted this watercolor in one of the two shows that the Oregon Watercolor Society has each year (I think it was a year or so ago) but like my other entries on other occasions in OWS shows it was not selected for their traveling exhibition. I also did a semi-abstract design based on the Britt pavilion design; in this case I was prevailed on to submit it for the annual poster design the Festival selects but it also was not selected. I like the painting although I prefer some other of my designs, but Jean say it is her favorite.

Recently I have been considering a variation, or you might term it a development of my design art. This development would be in the direction of a step back toward “realism” although the product would still be distorted in character. One of the ideas I have would be a work entitled “Sam Picasso” picturing a misshapen paperhanger messily putting up wallpaper on which the design was a parody of P. Picasso’s cubist art. The whole idea would be to lampoon what, to me, is pretentious nonsense that has been foisted on the general world of art by equally pretentious and artistically vulgar art critics. I have a few ideas in addition along th same line — “Gun Boy” on the typical NRA member; “The Deer Stalker” on the hunting community and “The Space-Filler” on the typical state, local and national legislator or administrator. I’m sure I could come up with similar themes for other elements of the population that are low in my opinion — such as the hierarchy in the Catholic church. When I will get started on this, if ever, is a question. My current liking for works of the naked female and the design constructions leaves little time available for new projects.

This is particularly the case since there is a third area in which I currently spend some time and that is black-and-white drawings based on the various sketches I have done in the past of trees, buildings, scenic spots, the Oregon coast etc. This is an area in which I have done a number of works over the past three or four years, but it has been slow in developing because I haven’t been able to find the right tool to use. I would like to use a common ordinary ballpoint pen, but the ink in such pens fades with time and while a ballpoint pen is excellent for on-the-site sketching it isn’t a suitable tool for a finished drawing.

I have tried various pens, including those described as India ink pens, that are on the market but without exception they are less than satisfactory. Until now I have simply used a small brush with either India ink or diluted black acrylic and this works well except where relatively straight lines of some length are desired when my technique in using the small brush does not produce the kind of straightness of line and orientation that I want. I have been driven to use a common ordinary nib pen with India ink and this, in combination with a small brush/ink or acrylic may be the answer. However I shall have to extend the nib pen to the type of pen that holds more ink so that the repeated recharging of the pen is reduced.

At any rate this is a type of drawing that also appeals to me and places a demand on my drawing/painting time which would be impinged on by developing the lampooning works.

It is now about eight months [this would set the time as early 1992—LS] since my heart attack and surgery and I am still in the stage of recovering from it.

Figure Drawing

As I look back on what I have done in drawing and watercolor painting since I began in the late 1970s, I can distinguish several “periods” that have actually blended into one another. The earliest work tended to be what I would call pictorially representational — not the ultra-realistic kind of painting that Devoe does but definitely realistic. Some of thee I have framed and are on the walls of our home here. Two, based on old photographs of logging locomotives, hang on the stairway to the downstairs. Jean thinks that these are as good watercolors as I have ever done, even though they were done quite some time ago.

But I really prefer a painting of the large Caterpillar-type tractor hanging downstairs. This was painted from a picture in one of the books of tractors and agricultural equipment that I have acquired, and is probably the largest tractor ever built. I doubt that a specimen still exists — there is a museum in Stockton which we have never visited which could conceivably have one. Perhaps we shall try to visit it next summer when we go south for a week when Palma and Dave come out for their stay.

Somewhere along the line I had acquired a sheet of 300 lb. Arches paper and I saved it until such time as I thought I could use it to good avail. I used it for this picture and I think I really like it best of my representational pictures. It is in a place where I can see it all the time; perhaps seeing it so frequently strengthens my liking for it.

After the figure drawing class at Elderhostel in Eastern Oregon State College and the figure drawing and painting classes at the [Southern Oregon State] college and the Rogue Gallery, I have done considerable work in this area. Mostly this has been of the female figure, though there have been infrequent inclusions of the male. For whatever reason, erotic, sensual or otherwise I have been strongly attracted to the subject of the female figure, partly or wholly nude. Initially I think there was more of an emotional factor, but this has gradually abated with time and at present the interest lies in the technique and rendering to produce the maximum visual effect.

Basically the female figure is rather simple in shape and proportions and it is primarily in the nuances of underlying bone structure and musculature that a really effective visual effect is obtained. Two other factors also enter — one is the setting or background. This is what the instructor at the college called negative space and the importance of the handling of this factor can hardly be over-emphasized. The background can be a considerable range of material — realistic flowers, room setting etc.; an amorphous design as to color, shapes, light and dark areas, patterns; or a structured background as to design such as a quilt pattern. The objective is to provide a negative space that enhances the visual impact of the naked figure. Thus it cannot be dominating, but on the other hand it must be colorful and pleasing in effect. Coming into play here are the practices of introducing contrast (not necessarily continuous, or even desirably so) between the background and the figure itself. Typically more time is spent on this background than on the figure itself.

The second important factor is the face and head of the figure. In my opinion this is what really is the dividing line between a successful picture and one that is an “also ran.” And of the face, the eyes are the single most important factor, also usually the most difficult. Oftentimes the most effective treatment of the eyes is to have them apparently looking at the viewer, though a side-wise look can often be very effective.

From my observation of students in drawing classes etc., I think that facility in depiction of faces is an aspect of drawing that tends to be slighted, perhaps because it is more difficult. As I mentioned above this often detracts from the drawing or painting to the point that it is mediocre at best. In visiting art galleries etc., particularly the commercial variety in and around southern Oregon, I find that most art is not of people; generally the subject is scenery, or flowers, or buildings, or still life or perhaps abstraction. I’m not sure what the reason for this is. Possibly it is just that the subject material is more difficult, or it can be that figure art does not have the commercial sales potential that other subjects do.

Recently we heard a talk at the brown-bag luncheon (a SOSC-sponsored function at which a speaker on a topic of general interest appears) by an artist who specializes in paintings of aircraft. A telling comment was to the effect that the interest of a gallery is strongly influenced by the monetary factor.

The contemporary art as the the nude female figure in local galleries, what little there is of it, tends to be rather distorted and non-representational. Thought the specific sexual features such as breasts and genital hair are not totally avoided, they tend to be minimized. I speculate that these non-representational tendencies and avoidance of certain anatomical features are the result of the low sales potential or the desire to avoid the impression of the art as being the Playboy type of depiction.

There seems to be a reluctance on the part of considerable segments of the general public to view material which certainly is an integral and significant aspect of the human figure, even though I suspect there is almost universal interest, even fascination with these aspects. In pictorial art in general, there does not seem to be particular aversion to depiction, either as to style or substance, of any feature of the subject save of the breasts of women or the genitalia of both of the sexes. Certainly these are actual features of nude subjects, and of overt interest in many cases or inhibited attraction in others. Why then should they be excluded or looked upon with disapprobation escapes my understanding.

Accordingly I have concluded that in the drawings or paintings I do of the female figure I shall not preclude depiction of the specific anatomical features of females in any way. Perhaps, to go further, since these features increase the visual impact of the painting or drawing, whether for disapproval or liking, they will be emphasized so far as conceivable. This decision I suppose relegates what I do along this line to a kind of “soft” pornography. However, it is nonetheless a more honest expression than a more inhibited or restricted representation. In a way pornography is a more honest form of art than are more limited expressions of the human form; it has a higher kind of integrity and bowdlerized representations.

In the foregoing paragraph I indicated that I would emphasize the sexual aspects of the female figure. This emphasis can be achieved by placement of arms and legs, and orientation of the figure not only to avoid the features, but also to disclose and emphasize them. One area that certainly lends itself to this goal is the use of the figure in action, rather than in a static pose. The kind of pose used in drawing and painting classes is by necessity a static one, and is thus limited as to the degree and kind of display of musculature and bone structure possible in the figure in action. Thus, this kind of pose presently loses novelty.

Before the advent of photography, capturing the details of the figure in action was a matter of continued observation and capability on the part of the artist. Photography of course changed all this, making possible “freezing” people and objects in motion. Nowadays there is a good supply of pictures in newspapers, magazines etc. providing such photographs, and indeed of most of the body features as to muscular conformation etc. Such pictures can readily be translated into the nude form in action. Such action poses also offer possibilities for the display of female genitalia that do not present themselves in more static poses.

Drawing Subjects

Presently, and for the past couple of years, I have drawn and painted largely at home here. For one year several years back I went out on Monday with the local artists’ group for drawing and painting on site but following this one year I have gone only a couple of times. As with figure drawing, I enjoy drawing (not painting) on site from actual scenery or buildings, but I have such a store of previous sketches that I can use for paintings etc. that further on-site drawing must be justified on the enjoyment aspect alone.

Along this line I have sketched along the Oregon coast and such a further outing does appeal to me and perhaps we shall make the effort and do this, this spring (1992). I also have a number of slides which could be used as the basis for watercolors — for example one day a year or so back I went out to the Billings ranch and took a roll of film (actually prints, not slides) that I could use for this purpose. The old barn on the Billings ranch, like the Walter Wood house, doesn’t have too many years left in it, though it is still in use and in better shape than the Walter Wood house.

The comment is sometimes facetiously made that it is the most painted barn in Bear Creek Valley — based on the number of times artists have sketched or painted it, either alone or in one of the watercolor seminars I wrote of earlier. The Billings ranch, probably some 160 acres or so, lies just outside the City of Ashland limits on the north end of the city. It is rather hilly so isn’t top agricultural land and John has used it for growing hay or pasturing livestock. He inherited it from his parent, who engaged in dairy activity I think. John’s occupation was primarily as a real estate agent and broker and his farming activities were I think slighted. His inability to “develop” his land for houses etc. is the bane of his existence; eventually it probably will be but probably after he is no longer around to see it.

Art Education

But I should stop digressing on these figures from days at Shell; though they bring back very nostalgic memories, they are only names to anyone who is likely to read this and thus have no particular significance except to me. When I digressed I was about to start writing about the drawing and watercolor hobby that developed after we retired here in Ashland. As I mentioned I had for a long time composed Christmas and greeting cards and had participated in a figure drawing class during Elderhostel class at Eastern Oregon State College, after retirement of course and about 1985 I’d guess.

My development in drawing in retirement actually started considerably before that. The year 1975 saw no development along this line as I spent a good part of the year in Houston “consulting.” In the next year or so I started what I would call the mechanical-subject period. One winter I started to make some drawings of antique trucks and while I was doing this I had the thought that it would be interesting and add to the effect of the drawings if they would be in color. This led me to take my first art class at the college, a beginning watercolor class under Jim Doerter.

Doerter was an interesting individual, and a good teacher. The class not only exposed the students to watercolor paraphernalia, but went on to explore the various techniques that artists have employed in the medium, cost-saving practices for amateurs, the cutting of mats ad some exposure to watercolor art. Doerter was interested in Oriental art and I recall seeing some of the Japanese items he brought to class. In connection with the class he had the students come to his house to see his collection of paintings etc., also his collection of headgear; I believe Jean went along with me to this. It was I think on the basis of what I learned in Doerter’s class that I went on to make quite a number of antique truck watercolors. Somewhere along the line Jean was instrumental in bringing these to the attention of Judy Howard who at the time was just starting her art gallery in Ashland.

She arranged to have a joint show of these with the paintings of another local artist Robert Devoe. Devoe at the time was a teacher (English I believe, not in the art department) whose paintings were in the super-realistic school of painting. Such paintings have a current vogue and he was successful enough subsequently to retire from his college teaching and to devote all his time to painting.

I can’t say I like Devoe’s paintings, which sell for rather high price and I gather quite handily. To me they are little more than large color photographs, high on technique but low on intrinsic artistry. Included in the show, as to my part, were two India ink drawings of two antique cars — a Stutz Bearcat and an ornate town car (Rolls Royce? Pierce Arrow?). These were not listed for sale as were the truck pictures, and now adorn the wall near the dining area window here. I still like them though they are a technique and a style that I would no longer attempt.

As a result of the show I sold, I seem to recall, one fire truck picture for maybe $100 or so. Later I turned to pictures of old tractors and from these I have given one to Vincent (of the old Hart Parrs that Uncle Carl used for threshing — that is the large ones) and one to Ray, time a Rumely Oil-Pull which he knew from his days on the ranch in the Napa valley as a boy. I have several, framed, myself as well as an assortment of framed truck pictures, left over from the show at Hanson Howard that never sold.

After the introductory class in watercolor with Mr. Doerter I took a more advanced class from Cliff Sowell. He was really the watercolor specialist on the college faculty, and was quite a good watercolorist, but he wasn’t the teacher that Doerter was and I didn’t get as much out of his class.

Through his class however I did become aware of the watercolor seminars each summer at the college, of which he was the guiding light. Each year there would be four of these seminars each lasting two weeks and with an established figure in the watercolor field as teacher. For a number of years in the late 1970s and early 1980s I would take one or perhaps a couple of these seminars each year. I recall such names as Millard Sheets (perhaps the most prestigious of the seminar teachers, and an instructor that Fern, Jean’s sister, had when she was in school at the California School of Fine Arts in Berkeley), Morris Shubin, Phil Austin and Judi Betts.

For all his renown I wasn’t really impressed by Sheets, Austin was more to my liking both as an artist and teacher, but the best insofar as teaching was concerned was Judi Betts. She was actually a public school teacher until she retired several years ago so she was really a teacher, whereas the others teaching was more or less incidental.

In the seminars, the mornings would often by conducted at the college and the sessions would formally conclude about noon, but the paining etc. would continue well into the afternoon. Then there would be onsite sessions as in Lithia Park, Howard Prairie and the Nichols Ranch. While I don’t recall much specifically of what was said and done in these seminars, I think that the contributed substantially to my development.

Sowell eventually came to feel that the college did not appreciate the time and effort he put into arranging the seminars and decided to set up the programs on the ranch near Cave Junction that he co-owned with his sister. The year the first program was to be held he was chasing some cattle on the ranch, had a heart attack and expired. With his death the seminars at the college became a thing of the past.

Since then I have taken further classes at the college, general drawing, oil painting, figure drawing and figure painting. Except for the oil painting class these have all been taught by a relatively new instruction at the college, Margaret Sjogren. Actually she was a replacement on the faculty occasioned by Cliff Sowell’s death.

Like Judi Betts, she is an excellent teacher. She came into teaching late, after having decided that her earlier work (I think in the business field) was unproductive and unsatisfying. Like Betts she is also a working artist, though I regard her work as less interesting than the watercolors of Betts. I feel that much of my interest and development can be ascribed to her classes. Some of the college classes, including the earlier seminars etc. were taken for credit, some were only audited and few were taken simply as a participant (no record kept) since Oregon law has the provision that persons over 65 may attend classes, free of charge, provided there is room in the classes.

The Rogue Gallery in Medford also has sponsored classes in the past and I have taken a couple of week-long watercolor classes, and a drawing class (also for one week) plus a couple of shorter classes. In the past couple of years there have been figure drawing or painting classes at the gallery, with no instruction, and I have participated in two of them. Although I still find it interesting drawing from a live model, attending classes represents an effort and furthermore at this stage of my development as an artist I find that I do not need a model for any drawing or painting I might wish to do. Newspapers and magazines provide a good source of what I would call the basic pose situations which is all that is really required. The anatomical features can easily be provided.

Actually a model is not needed for these as pictures in magazines, newspapers, books provided all of these in graphic detail, and indeed library references provide information on the few anatomical features that as customarily proscribed in newspapers etc.

Recreation with Co-Workers

One of the advantages of working for a large organization like Shell at one of its larger installations was the scope of capabilities of the people on site with whom one eventually became aware. The service engineering department was an attractive place for skilled laborers — very little if any shift work, stable employment at a competitive wage etc. So, for example, when I was constructing the extension to 411 Bonnie Drive and came to the point when the electrical wiring was to be done, an obvious possibility (since I didn’t feel I wanted to tackle the entire task myself) was to talk to the electrical foreman in service engineering. He offered his services and I’m sure I had the work done at less cost than had I fired an electrical contractor. This way I could also help him with work, under his direction, and thus facilitate the job and reduce the cost.

Another instance of “using” Shell was in regard to the photographic and duplicating department. In connection with the considerable number of movies and still photographs taken of the tray action in the tray test column I had become well acquainted with the principal photographer — that is, not the individual who ran the department who was also a very competent man, but instead the man who actually took the pictures requested of the department. So when my mother wrote her account of her mother’s life and wanted to include some pictures I suggested that I could probably arrange to get the appropriate negatives made from the old photographs she had that she wanted to include. I simply took them to Ed Nyberg, the Shell photographer, and asked if he could make negatives of them, which he offered to do, sub rosa, on Shell’s time. Strictly this was an unethical use of Shell’s time, but I’m sure it went on at all levels and personnel and so long as the opportunity wasn’t abused was winked at by management.

Another feature of the Emeryville establishment that I appreciated was the cafeteria. The food was good and the character I liked, cheap, and of course convenient. While I was a bachelor I would typically have my main meal of the day at lunch time. I have always liked, even preferred, cafeterias as a place to eat out, from days at the Quadrangle and its cafeteria, through Shell days at Emeryville, in Houston where I recall the meals to Luby’s and Morrison’s (the latter served me well during the time I was consulting at Shell in 1975, they had a cafeteria off of one of the downtown tunnels in the business district) and presently in Ashland at such places as North’s.

One of my favorites from Shell cafeteria days was sour cream raisin pie. When Emeryville shut down I lost this for an internal [sic] but re-established contact at a small restaurant called Just Desserts over in Medford, Some friends of ours here, Colver and Avis Anderson, had apprised us of this restaurant and we tried it out, and eventually became aware that included in the pies they made was a sour cream raisin pie. The restaurant no longer exists — it expanded to a second location in downtown Medford (a poor choice as downtown Medford is in the doldrums retail wise), later gave up their first location, and eventually folded. If they had stayed where they were originally (still used as a restaurant) they would probably still be in business. Just another example of an unwise business expansion that led to failure.

I inquired at the restaurant if the cook would give out the recipe but with no success. Jean eventually tracked down a recipe that, as near as I can taste, equals the old Shell cafeteria and the Just Desserts recipe. The lead came from the local extension service office over in Medford. Jean will occasionally made a modification of the recipe (only the filling, not the pie shell) substituting non-cholesterol bearing ingredients (yogurt for sour cream for example), which I duly appreciate. There appear to be several recipes for sour cream raisin pie and I have tried it in various restaurants over the years, since Emeryville days. Most have been disappointments; the closest match, other than Just Desserts, is at Marie Callenders, but even there the taste isn’t quite the same or quite as good.

Another feature of working in a fairly good-sized and coherent unit was the recreational opportunities that occurred. At Emeryville there was a group called the Shell Development Recreational Association, which received some funding from the company. One activity sponsored by the association was the softball league, which I recall fielded several teams from various departments at Emeryville. I remember participating in some games in which I was on the engineering department team; characteristically I was a recruit of necessity or desperation and I’m sure that I was at best a “space-filler” and any effect I would have had on the outcome would have been detrimental to the engineering team.

The engineering team was quite successful, principally because they had an excellent pitcher in one Merle Gould; they also had a good catcher in the person of my friend Hugh Guthrie. Indeed it was probably the latter that got me involved in playing in the games at all. Usually they were held on Saturday mornings on a school playground in south Berkeley. I actually had a fielder’s glove which I had purchased with some prize money from the informal Shell bowling leagure in the San Francisco office group.

My participating in this off-hours sport began of course while I was working in San Francisco and I suppose continued for 2 or 3 years. We would leave the Shell building on Bush Street right after work, and several of us would ride the street car out to the Broadway Bowl — there was a little “greasy-spoon” near it where we would perhaps have a hamburger. the “prize” money was as I recall really a refund of a portion of the fee we paid — at least in my case it was as I never was good enough to win anything for my standing. One time I bought some bowling shoes, which I kept long after I stopped bowling until Jean disposed of them. The softball glove went at some time before the move to Houston to one of the Piehl boys. My average in bowling was somewhere in the 130 range; once I lad a game over 200 but that only occurred once. Later on when I was working at Emeryville I would occasionally join the SDRA league at the Albany Bowl, but I was never a regular there.

Another activity that the SDRA sponsored was an occasional bridge tournament and I recall participating with Jean as partner in the cafeteria (in the evening) after it was moved to the M building. These were tournaments in which various Shell locations played the same hands so that the different locations competed with each other. Jean and I would as a rule perform less than the average although I recall once when we played against Stan Newman and Marilyn Johnson as opponents and beat them rather badly. This was indeed strange though since Marilyn was a life master — her big hobby was playing bridge and Stan was no slouch either.

Now that I think of it Marilyn was also interested in horses, and the riding thereof. She worked in either the library or tech files, made the move to Houston and was still unmarried, at the age of 40 or so, when I last encountered her or heard of her. Stan spent his career in process engineering and was one of those individuals who always seemed impeccably dressed regardless of the situation. I could never understand how anyone could not seem a bit rumpled at some time or other.

I also played in some bridge tournaments with Dwight Johnston as partner. In one of them we actually garnered a few master points. Jean and I haven’t played bridge in some time; we used to have a weekly evening with Nan and Louis Hershberger — people we knew from church and who have lived within walking distance of us here — but this was discontinued when Jean developed her going-to-sleep problem. Such activity would stimulate her so that she’d have trouble going to sleep.

In a way I miss playing bridge occasionally; it is a game that has attracted me ever since the early days of kibitizing the noontime games at Shell in San Francisco, and later in Emeryville. Recalling these days of watching the noontime game brings back vivid memories of the participants: Russ Shiras, who was a participant in the early development of distillation calculation technique for Shell in the 1930s and who was one of the seediest, most disheveled persons of a professional level that I’ve ever encountered — his long lank hair was always drooping into his face, to be ineffectually brushed back, his suit always seemed wrinkled and a size or two too small, he was always dripping cigarette ash everywhere including himself. He was a man with a very mobile face, bushy eyebrows, rather pale blue eyes. For all his unkempt appearance (and his bridge-playing tended to be as disorganized and erratic as his dress) he was basically a very kind and considerate person. He read a lot — that was his hobby; his wife, a strong Catholic, was a write, I think of detective fiction though I’m not sure. She had got Shiras to adopt Catholicism; I was always surprised that he had agreed to this.

Then there was Charlie Hurd, also with a finger in development of engineering calculations for distillation for Shell. A thin, dark, somewhat saturnine man, he was the basic data honcho at San Francisco when I arrived from the south and it was he that the new trainee engineers met first in their training program and assignments. A better bridge player than Shiras. In later days after the move to Emeryville he wrote the first comprehensive distillation calculation program in Shell; this was in the early days of electronic computers and he wrote the program in machine language (not something like Fortran which later became the programming medium — I don’t know now what is used).

Another participant in the noonday bridge was Dick Kunstman I think by Emeryville days he may have been transferred to the instrumentation department — he and Shiras would occasionally get into past bridge game discussions lasting for some time with both men almost livid. I wondered on occasion what department management thought of the time wasted in these discussions — the noon “hour” had a nominal, scheduled, length of 40 minutes but the bridge plus discussion time often 1-1/2 hours. But to my knowledge nothing was ever said about the time consumed.

A minor member of the fractionation calculation groups was Cornell Jarman. He was an accountant by training, had been with the group since Wilmington days and was a person used for menial calculation chores. A congenial person, a Mormon and an active one though he and his wife had limited their family size.

A more colorful figure was Dante Sarno, who to my way of thinking was the real brains of the fractionation group. A rather short, dark, bald-on-top person of Italian background, with his customary black cigarette holder and cigarettes. He played an important part in the plant startups of Shell’s extractive distillation licensing activities.

The Tray Test Column

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For a good part of the time I was in chemical engineering research, the experimental facilities were situated at various places — the tray test column for example was in the pilot plant area at Emeryville while other experiments and tests were done at the Berkeley lab — a facility that Shell rented for several years in the 1950s. When Shell purchased the old Western Electric building across the street from the original Shell N building, they converted the building into labs and offices and the chemical engineering department was allotted unified and improved facilities.

At considerable expense the tray test column was moved to a location outside the new lab facilities, but to my recollection it was never actually operated again in its new location. By then fractionation research had progressed to the point that any further simulator tests were passé. I have a few mementoes of the column which had played such an important part in my work.

The original column was rectangular in cross section (about 3 feet by 5 feet) and had glass panels for the sides of three trays so that a clear visual picture of the air/water contact and flow could be observed. These panels, then, were as large as slightly less than 3 feet by 5 feet. They were thick plate glass, polished etc on each side so that the image viewed through them would be clear for photography of the operating tray. Although the pressure in the column was not high (max perhaps 12 inches to 18 inches of water column) it was high enough that a material such as glass the size of the panels needed to be rather thick to withstand the pressure and the panels were 3/4 inch thick. I wasn’t in on the planning of the column construction but the glass panels must have cost a mint.

The panels were sealed against the flat sides of the column by a gasket between the panel and the column with external pressure applied along the panel edges by a heavy metal strip. The strip was of course also gasketed against the glass and the pressure was applied by bolts attached to the column and passing through the metal strip. Even though every effort had been made to have the sides of the column flat and the use of the gaskets softened minor irregularities on the column sides, the process of tighetning the hold down metal strips was a tricky process. It was easy to apply uneven pressure via the hold down bolts so that a torque would be applied on the glass panel and it would crack.

Eventually, they were replaced in whole or in part by 1/2-inch thick Plexiglas panels which worked well. One of the broken glass panels had an end broken so that a recoverable piece approximately 3 feet by 4 feet could be cut from it and, since the panel was unusable in its broken state and since the use of the Plexiglas panels had been adopted, I asked for the broken panel and was given it. Eventually I converted it into a glass top coffee table. To do this I had to have the broken edge repaired and Ray knew someone who would attempt the task; the repair wasn’t totally perfect but it was quite good and so it is now part of the coffee table downstairs here. The glass piece is heavy; I doubt that I could ever lift it by myself and certainly not at this stage in my life.

The other memento I have of the column is a stainless steel bubble cap which presently sits on the fireplace mantel downstairs. When the research on the column started the caps were standard devices placed on the trays in most fractionation columns. They varied in size and design and the one I have is a design that Shell developed for its own use. Eventually the research led into other types of contacting trays and trays with bubble caps fell into disuse, except for very special applications. The unit at Emeryville had enough of these caps for three test trays and when they became obsolete I acquired one of them as a memento.

When I wrote about the coffee table, I was reminded that the wood in it was also salvaged material. When we lived at 411 Bonnie Drive we had as next door neighbors Claude and Grace Weeks; Grace was one of the D’Addiego clan, one member of which was in the house razing business. Claude mentioned to me that this latter individual was tearing down an old house in Berkeley, where the Baptist(?) divinity school was expanding and that the living/dining area in this old house was oak paneled, and anyone who wanted to could go there and take whatever wood was desired. So I went and the room was indeed a treasure trove to a salvage-minded person.

I think I was one of the first scroungers to investigate the room, but I made the mistake of limiting my attention to the ornate moulding. After I was home and had reflected for a day or so, I realized that I should have taken a supply of the paneling itself — which consisted of 3/4-inch thick oak pieces, about 10 to 12 inches wide and maybe 5 to 6 feet long. So I went back but most of the paneling have been taken; I did gather up from what was left and the supply I got has served me well over the years — I still have oddments left. It was from this second visit lumber that I made the legs and frame for the coffee table.

I have also used this oak lumber for making an extension of the sides of the Victorian bedroom set that Jean acquired from her folks, so that the bed was long enough for a mattress of queen size length (but of course, not queen size width) and, most recently for the legs of he sane table I made for when both Palma’s and Laurel’s were visiting here over the Fourth of July a couple of years back. The moulding has largely been used up for various picture frames.

The tray test column was also the basis for my becoming involved with an individual from the service engineering department, who came to be known as “Machinist Brown.” He was a portly, faintly obnoxious character who was assigned to do some mechanical work on the column. The column had been in use for some [time] when this work was being done and in various places in the column there were small accumulations of liquid mercury [soot?]. This mercury had its source from the various mercury manometers attached to the column for pressure difference measurements; these had been on occasion out-ranged so that the manometers had “blown” thus discharging the mercury into the column.

I suppose an effort was made to recover what could be recovered but inevitably some remained. I suppose that environmental regulations would now require a thorough de-contamination of the apparatus, but in those days a much more tolerant policy and attitude was in effect, both as far as Shell and the government was concerned. Liquid mercury is pretty harmless in my opinion, but I suppose in a poorly ventilated place the vapor pressure might be enough to result in possible injurious air concentrations.

Anyway, Machinist Brown was wearing an ornate gold ring when he was working on the column and the ring chanced to come in contact with some of the residual mercury, and of course the mercury immediately amalgamated with the gold and the ring turned white. Why he was wearing such a valuable ring when he was engaged in mechanical work is beyond me, but it was probably a clue to his character. When he saw what had happened to his ring he complained loudly and the event came noticeably to the attention of the chemical engineering personnel. I don’t know what the eventual outcome of the affair was, but we had no further relations with Machinist Brown, both at his and our instigation.