Circle mill experience:

Some 25 years ago I had delivered some logs to my Uncle Chick’s sawmill up the dirt road for my place. I stopped in one Friday evening after work to see if he had them sawn up yet. He said "Be here at 7:00 in the morning and we’ll get started on’em." O.K. I hadn’t figured it that way but I could do that - not exactly being a stranger around logs or sawmills.

Drove up in the driveway/front yard/log yard at the appointed time. Stepped out of the pickup right into a swarm of beagles. It was already about 90 degrees and the sun was just burning the heavy dew off the grass. Promised to be a scorcher.

Uncle Chick steps out on the porch dressed in his khaki pants, tank-top style undershirt and house slippers. The pack of beagles stops barking and rushed to him for attention. He had a big porcelain coffee mug in his fist - heavy enough to pound in posts. Even though he was well in his 60’s he was a big and powerful man – well over 6’ tall.

He greeted me by saying: "The Homelite is down at the engine, cut us up some dry slabs and build a fire in the engine. I’ll get my shoes on and be out directly."

I went down and proceeded to cut up about a half pickup load of slabs about 3 foot long and built a fire in the Case 16 steam engine. He got out there and started working some levers and turning valves on the old engine. Kind of reminded me of the Wizard behind the curtain in OZ.

While the fire was heating the water, he got the old Allis WD 45 with a home-made loader – single action cylinders on the lift, manual trip on the manure bucket – manual steering. He picked up a black oak butt cut log and put it on the skid blocks. Then cant hooked it onto the carriage and dogged it down – using a combination of blocks at hand to toe the little end out from the knee.

Said: "Check the gage and see if she’s got 80 pounds yet." Did that and declared it did. He made a pull on the long stick hinged to the frame on the mill. At the top was hooked to a length of clothesline connected to the throttle on the engine. "PaChunk" came form the engine and nothing happened. He grumbles and goes back to the big four-foot drive wheel on the side of the engine and puts his knee against it and pulls on the top with both hands. The wheel turns and the engine goes ‘"Chunka, Chunka, Chunka". I’m standing at my "slab technician position" next to 80 foot long by 8" wide belt - inline with the blade that starting to turn. The blade wobbles about an inch as it slowly turns. "How in the hell is this going to work." I’m thinking.

Uncle Chick returns to the command position and pulls the stick again. The engine goes "Bang, Bang, Bang – Chunka, Chunka, Chunka", behind me. The belt and blade start to pick up speed. The blade continues to wobble until it reaches some point where it straightens right up and ran true. Uncle later explained that the blade "stood up" when it got to 540 RPMs.

A pull on another lever and the carriage with the log on it lurched about a foot – then started its chattering and jerky way down the track. It reminded me of an empty Radio Flyer wagon being pulled across a gravel driveway.

The log hit the blade and nothing exploded as I was expecting. The chips started to fly off the bottom of the log and the slab fell clear in front of me. The carriage chatters back and drags past the blade as it wobbled and clawed at the face of the log – thus changing it’s rough complexion from nested arcs going one way to a crisscross set of arcs going both ways.

Uncle Chick pulls on the lever that indexes the log out the proper amount. Just to make sure, he checked the section of rusty carpenter’s square bolted to the block with a stove bolts and his pointer made from heavy wire.

Another pull on the stick and the "Bang, Bang, Bang – Chucka, Chucha, Chucka" process is repeated. Followed by the scream of the teeth ripping away at the log. About halfway down the log something else happens: The blade looses RPMs – ran out of steam "literally". The carriage is stopped until the blade catches up RPMs. Then the carriage pushes forward again.

I expected to catch the flitch (even though I didn’t know it was called a flitch then), but Uncle Chick stopped the carriage with just the last top corner of the flitch hanging. He reversed the carriage, dragging the flitch back with the log. He grabbed the flitch at the bottom edge and gave a great pull, breaking it free from the log and stacking it behind him for later edgeing.

Another flitch or two was produced the same way then the log was tuned 180 degrees and the other side flattened. And so on it went.

It’s past 9:00 o’clock now and we got our first log done. Uncle shuts things down and picks up his coffee mug and tells me to put some more wood in the engine to get the pressure back up. He goes to the house to return in about 10 minutes with a full cup of steaming hot, black coffee. It’s up to about 98 now – degrees and humidity. (good thing they hadn’t invented the heat index back then)

He says to get on the WD and put another log on the skid blocks. I’d driven a number of tractors but not this one but I finally got it started. "The steering is broke!" I thought. I had to be.. I couldn’t turn the wheel and I hadn’t even pickup a log yet! How did he do it? I gave it all I had and finally the wheel rims moved a few degrees but the tires where they met the ground staid where they were. When the tractor started to move, they came along and I was able to direct the beast to the log and managed to get it on the skid blocks.

We get this log sawn and the edging done and most of the morning was done. Is I lived just on down the road, I went home for a bite to eat. Uncle Chick said to be back up about 1:00 to build up the fire again.

I got back and he was sharpening and swedgeing the teeth. Gave me directions on firing the engine. By the time he was done sharpening, the pressure was up again.

In the heat of the day we got the last of the 4-5 logs sawn and quit. We’d probably sawn 3-400 board feet that day.