James L Adams—People and Products

Some people are dependent on alcohol, some on heroin, but I am addicted to cyanoacrylate (industrial nickname CA).  It has saved me huge amounts of time in my life, enabled me to impress my family and friends by my ability to perform instant repairs, allowed us to keep fragile items in our house within reach of children and then grandchildren, secure in the knowledge that I can fix them when they are broken, and been critical to various strange hobbies I have.

 It has been a part of my life since soon after it became available in the late 1950’s.  I first met CA while working in the Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL) in Pasadena, California.  It was sold by Eastman Kodak, where it was invented, and was called Eastman 910.  At JPL it was first used by the test engineers, who needed to rapidly place accelerometers on prototype spacecraft to measure the effects of simulated launch vibrations—these vibrations being perhaps the most severe portion of the launch environment.  Since CA adhesives in their pure form set in seconds, make strong bonds, and are immune to high temperatures and most solvents, they were perfect for attaching these accelerometers.  And conveniently, CA is not immune to acetone, which softens the set glue and allowed the accelerometers to be removed and attached elsewhere if desired.

 I first discovered CA as the result of a common prank played on new employees (those were the days of pranking, which I sorely miss).  Lubrication of mechanical components is always a problem in space, because most lubricants will “outgas”, and spread a thin layer of themselves on neighboring surfaces.  Not good, since such surfaces are critical for temperature control, and one would like the lubricants to stay where they are needed. Eastman 910 came in small bottles with a pouring spout, and the prank was to find an innocent engineer (me), tell them that there was this amazing new lubricant that would not outgas, and which was a superior lubricant to any others available.  “Try it”, the prankster would say. “Put a couple of drops on a finger, and rub it against another finger, and  you will be amazed”.  Amazed we were, because the fingers instantly glued together, and tightly enough that if not told about acetone, would have required slicing apart with a razor blade.  As you can see from the Wikipedia information here, one of the uses of CA is to glue skin together in cases of wounds, surgery, and other applications.  I later found out that in three or four days they could be separated even without acetone, but life is somewhat less convenient with two fingers glued together for even a short time.

 Although at this time, the glue was rare and expensive, it is now common and very affordable (a little goes a long way).  It is sold under various trade names, such as Super Glue and Krazy Glue, and often tricked up with other components so it can be marketed more easily.  But I am a purist, and stick to the straight stuff.  I usually buy it in the model section of hobby shops.  The small bottles (1/2 ounce) are often enough, since over time it is almost impossible to keep them from terminally plugging up.  It usually comes in three thicknesses.  The “thin” sets within a few seconds and makes the strongest bond if the joint is in good contact.  The “gap filling” is the middle one, takes longer to set, but does not require as tight a mechanical joint.  I never use the thickest version, which can handle even more “gap”, because part of the magic is the very rapid setting time, compared to other glues.  Clamping is rarely needed.  It is usually possible to apply the glue, hold the parts together a bit, and voila – mission accomplished.

 The skill, strangely enough, is to use it without gluing your fingers together, gluing parts to your fingers, getting it on your clothes or your best furniture, or otherwise losing control of the magic fluid.  But a few embarrassing accidents will help you learn.  One of my early ones resulted in my gluing a finger of each hand to a small pot that had broken into several pieces.  I was so intent in holding the pieces together I neglected to realize what was  happening.   I was working in the garage, but  looking around, I could see no acetone.  I remembered that my wife had finger-nail polish remover (acetone) in the house, so I went to find it.  But unknown to me, she had gone on an errand and locked the doors of the house.  Since the glue had set and the pot was repaired, I did not want to re-break it.  But ever try to get a full key ring out of the pocket of tight Levis with both hands glued to a pot?  No cell phones in those days, and even if there had been, at that point in my life I would have been reluctant to give my colleagues, friends,and  neighbors, the tasty story that hot-shot Ph.D. rocket scientist Adams had glued his hands to a pot.  Fortunately I was more agile in those days, got the key free without re-breaking the pot, opened the door, found the finger-nail polish remover, and managed to apply it to my attached fingers (and a bit on the floor and bathroom counter) before my wife returned.

 A professionally valuable result of my early exposure to CA, was that I became fascinated with glue, and how it works.  In fact, in retrospect I was becoming annoying at JPL, because I could see no reason why most of the spacecraft was not glued together, instead of using such archaic means as nuts and bolts, rivets, and welds.  The knowledge I acquired has served me in good stead all of my life.  Thank you, Eastman Kodak. 

 Incidentally, while you are in the hobby shop, buy yourself some 5 minute epoxy and hardener if you don’t have any.  Not as strong a joint as regular epoxy glue, but you probably don’t need that much strength, and 5 minutes is better than 5 hours. 

Bondo, is a two component epoxy putty, originally developed in 1955 by Robert Spink, a car repairman in Florida.  Although it has changed in composition, it is still the foremost body putty used to repair irregularities in sheet metal auto body parts.  I first discovered it soon after it came on the market while involved in repairing minor damage to first my, and then my family cars.  It has a bad reputation with some people (a short cut and plastic), but certainly helps even out the surface after the sheet metal is pounded out to near its original shape.  Although there are many other epoxy based putties now, Bondo still holds its own.

 Since that time, I have found a multitude of uses for the material, from repairing damage to wooden porch floors in our 100 plus year old house, to stopping sewer leaks.  I sometimes think that the reason the Roman empire collapsed was because they did not have Bondo.

 But now I am worried a bit about the product.  The company was bought in 2007 by 3M, a large and successful company, that is using the Bondo brand on a variety of consumer products.  But I recently bought a new can of Bondo, and found that it was labeled as a “body repair kit”.  The kit part apparently refers not only to the body putty, but also a tiny (2 inch square) plastic applicator, and two so-called self adhesive patches made of a metal mesh.  I assume these are intended to bridge a hole in the sheet metal until enough Bond iss applied to seal the hole—but you don’t want to do that.  You want to weld, or at least rivet in, a metal patch and go from there.  And a two inch applicator?  The “kit” part was downright insulting. Bondo is obviously fishing for the DIY (Do It Yourself) market, but it takes a bit of experience to use Bondo well, and probably more than a two inch applicator.  I would suggest at least a reference on the can to one of the many excellent instruction videos on using Bondo available on Youtube . A fully set mishapen, lumpy mass of Bondo on his/her car would take the fun out of any DIYer's day (I incidentally am a veteran DIY person).

 And I noticed the can was not full —  hopefully not the grocery store game (keep the container size and the price, and cut the contents).  Maybe Bondo cans were never full, but I do not remember that being the case. The attached photo shows the freshly opened can, the crème hardener and the “patch” folded around the tiny applier.

 I also recently began using a wood filler now provided by Bondo, also a two component putty, that seems to set a bit softer, is more compatible with sanding and drilling, and can be stained to some extent.  But it sets at least as fast (3 to 5 minutes after mixing). On a car, Bondo’s fast setting time is a benefit, because usually one smears it onto the sanded sheet metal over a fairly large and reasonable even area. Then one planes it (with a so-called cheese grater) and sands it with increasingly fine paper as it sets until one gets the desired result. But in repairing wood, especially in a house, it is not always possible to place the mixed putty in the proper place and smooth it as one might want to in such a short time, since house repairs often require a bit of acrobatics and forcing the filler into  nooks, crannies, and crevices.  But hopefully the manufacturers will realize that car body repair and the repair of wood products are often two different things, and at least come up with an option of a slightly slower-setting wood filler— how about ten minutes instead of five?

I am praying for the continued high quality of Bondo products.  Hopefully, the long established reputation (brand) is not being  used mainly to rapidly improve the cash flow of 3M.  But marketing and potential quick profit have stolen the mind of many well meaning and venerable companies. 

 I have always liked old things, especially mechanical ones, especially if I find them in an unappreciated, neglected state, covered with rust and missing a few pieces, and if I have had personal experience with them in my life. Repairing them, de-rusting them, perhaps painting them,and getting them running again is one of my major hobbies.   The photo shows a 1920’s orchard sprayer I am restoring to health.  A friend of mine gave me the wagon and tank and a number of components that were in bad shape (see the  photo below, which shows a surge tank with rust).  I happened to have the proper pump which I had restored, shown on the left photo along with the restored surge tank.  I also had the proper engine, although as can be seen from the photo below,it has not yet been restored.  I have de-rusted and painted the main chassis and rebuilt the main wooden tank, which contained boards which were warped and rotten, and am working on the sprayer’s many other components.

As a result of this hobby, I am usually surrounded by such things and the tools necessary to do the work, and my house and yard, are replete with the results, many of which have overflowed to a friends farm. I laugh when I see the many articles about simplifying life by getting rid of stuff, usually featuring a person who acts as a paid consultant to help people do so.   I love my stuff, and usually assume that these consultants are simply obsessive-compulsive people who have figured out a way to make money by spreading their neat-freak approach to life.

 But am I an historian?  Definitely not.  I read what I can about these devices, their application, and the people who make and use them, but as one of my historian friends gently told me, “historians work from original sources—you are an antiquarian”.  My answer, was “why should I spend time looking for original sources, because historians turn them into books, that organize the material and present it in a more easily readable form?”.  I prefer reading books under a tree with a beer in my hand than searching through archives and stacks of papers to find what I want.  My wife, incidentally, was born and trained as an historian and loves to do such things.  She agrees I am not one.

 Collectors are often historians.  I consider myself an acquirer, rather than a collector.  I have veered in that direction a few times, but seem to always become sidetracked by a new interest.  Leo Keoshian, a retired hand surgeon and my friend who gave me the parts for the orchard sprayer does qualify as a collector, because for many years he has collected and restored vintage vehicles (Ferraris, Bugattis, etc.) and agricultural equipment. He leans in the direction of historian.  He learns everything he can not only about the products, but the people involved, the environment in which they were used, and so on. Once I accompanied him on a cross country trip  which he was making to pick up a small rare tractor on the East coast,  and he insisted we go  out of our way to pass through Cleveland Ohio, because the archives of the Cleveland Tractor Company, which at one time had made the one we were trailering, was there.  He happily spent the day in the archives, while I happily checked out the town. But Leo lacks one attribute of most of the historians I know —he doesn’t write books.

 Another person in the area, who is also a collector (see photo in his shop below) and also a historian of old machinery  is Jack Alexander, who lives close to me in Gilroy, Californa.  He is an  engineer who retired from Lockheed, and does write  heavily researched books about old machinery and the people who produced and used it. He has mastered the full range of historian, collector, acquirer, and thinker.

 I simply acquire things I am drawn to and want to work on, although in the process of working on them I learn a great deal about their background and the people and companies who were involved. 

The photo below was taken in  my back yard and shows a bit of agricultural eqipment.  Even though I know a lot about these beautiful things that I saved from death, ( perhaps more beautiful to me than to my gardener wife who might prefer plants),  I guess one of my main joys has always been not only being involved with designing and building machines but also tinkering with sick ones—diagnosing their  problem, making them the necessary  parts, restoring them to health, and painting them to reflect their past glory.  Perhaps necessary therapy to offset the years I have spent as a professor, during which the expectation was that I would use my head rather than my hands. To me, the key to happiness is to use both.