Masterclass: ‘56XX’
The ‘56XX’S’ troubled birth shook Swindon to its core, but after the teething troubles had been ironed out, the class went on to become a rugged stalwart, writes Richard Foster.
Swindon Works: was there any other railway works that was more akin to an English stately home? You can almost imagine that, amid the red and blue brick of A Shop, genteel and cultured people went about building steam locomotives in a way that was right and proper and not like these ‘oiks from other railways’. If you’ve ever seen Downton Abbey, you know the sort of people we’re talking about – those who would do anything to avoid even the merest whiff of scandal.
That’s what makes the cover-up that took place at Swindon in the winter of 1924 so shocking. OK, we’re not talking anything like the scale of Watergate here, but it shook the confidence of those involved and would have a profound effect on GWR locomotive development for the next 20 years.
It’s a crisp December day and a new locomotive of a whole new class is being steamed in the yard at Swindon for the first time. It’s a handsome-looking machine but its 0-6-2T wheel arrangement, projecting smokebox and inside cylinders are completely at odds with the standards set by George Jackson Churchward nearly a quarter of a century beforehand.
The gleaming, freshly cast cabside numberplate proclaims it to be No. 5600. The needle on the pressure gauge touches the 200lbs mark so the driver gently eases open the regulator. After a few feet, a horrible grinding noise from between the frames and a distinctly off-beat ‘chuff’ from the chimney causes the driver to hurriedly shut the regulator.
The culprit for both ”where noises was plain to see: the valve spindle meets the extension rod has been left unsupported; with the extension rod angled down, the thrust from the cylinders had bent the valve spindle upwards.
It was a disaster for chief mechanical engineer Charles Collett. He’d only been in the post of CME for just shy of two years and this debacle on his foray away from Churchward’s practices would have severely dented his reputation. It didn’t help that Collett was already viewed by many as cold and aloof, a complete contrast to the gregarious and larger than life ‘Old Man’, who, though retired, would often pop in to see how things were going.
The worst part about the whole affair was that the remaining 49 ‘56XXS’ of Lot 228 were already coming together under A Shop’s cavernous roof.
Collett had to act fast. He ordered drawing office staff back to their desks to devise a solution and the resulting drawings for the heavy reinforcing beams, produced hurriedly that December, were dated August. This was when all the drawings for the new ‘56XX’ 0-6-2T had been finalised! Staff were told not to mention anything – on pain of dismissal.
We’ll never know why Collett nor chief draughtsman Deverell did not spot the initial mistake. Collett was still grieving for his beloved wife Ethelwyn, whose death in
“had to act Collett fast. He ordered drawing office staff back to their desks to devise a solution
March 1923, would continue to dog his career. Had the ‘56XX’ embarrassment not taken place, he might have been tempted to try new concepts. As it was, Collett never strayed from Churchward’s design practices ever again, which gives rise to claims that GWR locomotive design stagnated during the 1930s.
One factor that might have caused the oversight was the sheer amount of work going through the Drawing Office as a result of the 1923 Grouping. Here, the GWR was unique. The LNER, LMS and Southern were new companies and their chief mechanical engineers had to continue to use existing plans while they worked out standard designs, often fighting against old loyalties from previously competing companies.
The GWR didn’t need to do this. It simply absorbed smaller railway companies,