Let the Bashing Begin

People who hammer Micro-Trains are often derided as trouble-makers, and ordinarily I'd agree—except that Micro-Trains has in a way brought it on themselves. Any company that is self-described as the "Cadillac" of this or the "Ultimate" in that has entirely too much hubris for their own good. And while deliberately looking for the tiniest errors is indeed unnecessarily excessive, pointing out glaring, easily-fixed bloopers—which, regrettably, show up regularly on M-T products—is fair game. But... does it do any good, when collectors will slavishly plunk down green for everything that comes out of M-T's doors?

You've got to hand it to M-T: one thing they managed to do right is contrive a market all their own, whether deliberately or by accident. Collectors constitute an entire self-contained industry, replete with training courses on investment techniques; no matter what emerges from Talent, Oregon, they're happy with it. Meanwhile, cars wind up with paint schemes based on one or two faded old photos someone at M-T found in the bottom of a file drawer (when dozens of clear, sharp ones exist on the Internet for all to see), and advertising features such nonsense as six-axle FTs. One sometimes wonders if anyone having a vague familiarity with railroads gets to see the stuff presented for public consumption. Are they the slightest bit concerned that they're sometimes the laughingstock of the industry? And if so, would they be inclined to do anything about it?



We've cut them slack for the fantasy collector stuff—it's apparently their bread and butter, so we tolerate Happy Birthday cars alongside so-called "prototype" items in their monthly releases. But when the prototype cars have lettering that never existed in real life, M-T needs to cut us some slack for having the urge to slam the "Cadillac" of N scale. Given the ease and speed with which one can verify facts these days, there's simply no excuse. Who are they trying to kid when they put a pipe load in a boxcar? What are they smokin' up there in Talent, anyway?



Reasons for these regular gaffes have been leaking into the forums via one of their own. Many of their employees, it would appear, know little to nothing about railroads or modeling (or even spelling, for that matter—but that's a whole other issue). This explains much. But when someone is employed to perform a job, and either lacks the necessary qualifications or the initiative to learn at least enough to perform reasonably well, that person's job ought to be at risk, no? (Let's put it this way: I'd be fired if my performance was comparable.) If the employee is doing fine in the eyes of the employers, the scrutiny must then fall on said employers. Well, when you've got a model railroad manufacturer with a President who refers to a Gunderson well car as a "depressed center flatcar," the problem may start at the top.



The buying public, by and large, isn't bothered by such trifles, however, and thus the problem is perpetuated. As long as M-T's employees can continue putting food on their tables, all is right with the world, and the 1% of their customers who clamor for something a little closer to reality are left shouting down holes. We can write just so many polite letters addressing issues, which would apppear to go straight into the circular file, before we reach the point of frustration, the point where the bashing begins. Is it right? Of course not. But it's perfectly understandable.



With the potential for being a truly exceptional manufacturer, it's all such a sad waste, especially considering that plenty of learned modelers are more than willing to contribute their expertise, gratis. Leveraging the Internet, M-T has at their disposal a vast pool of accumulated knowledge to tap, complete with volunteers ready to do some of the legwork, and yet we rarely see anything except the finished product—by which point it's too late to re-render the artwork or change the paint color. What's going on? Would participating in product development spoil a surprise or something? What, pray tell, is the point of all this secrecy? Other companies regularly announce releases well in advance. I may be wrong, but M-T could do well by engaging some of their customers more directly and more often.

Meanwhile, Atlas is soaring past M-T both in terms of quality and accuracy. Not to mention sheer volume. Yet, blithely unaware that they've been de-throned as the industry leader, M-T still doggedly persists in releasing one faux pas after another, their energies spent fretting over problems with OEM trucks and couplers instead of living up to their own motto. Some of us are at the point of giving up (a point others have long passed), writing off Micro-Trains as just another toy company.

But why do we care? Many other manufacturers don't get the monthly "bash fest" that M-T seems to incur when they make foobies (have you ever seen Model Power cars?). Is it because we, as a community, can't make our peace with writing M-T off? They were the standard bearer for N scale freight cars for years. It's only been recently that they've lost their luster. I think what we're all afraid of is them being a fallen hero. I know that personally, I feel let down. As I was coming of age as a modeler, I thought everything M-T did was great, largely because, at the time, it was. Now, with increasing competition, they seem to have decided that it's easier not to compete to be the best. Nobody wins gold medals for freight cars. The only real reward is paying the bills, and maybe a nice vacation. So maybe M-T wins after all. Too bad that their win is our loss.

Co-Authored by David K. Smith and Ed Kapuscinski — so blame them both

Kato's Iconic Models

Kato approaches the American market differently than most other manufacturers, and the "typical" American modeler.

Most American modelers center their interests around a specific railroad in a specific era: The Pennsylvania during World War II, Conrail in December of 1985, the Santa Fe in the Transition era, or even a freelanced road in the 1970s. Most manufactures marketing plans (mainly product choice and promotional materials) mirror this approach by providing a variety of models that span a variety of eras that can be used by the largest number of modelers with the widest variety of interests. Kato, however, does not seem to do this. Instead, their marketing plan stems from a different mindset. Instead of simply producing workaday trains, like the perceived "normal" modeler wants, Kato goes after iconic American trains to sell in Japan, and also in America if possible.

I believe this is because Kato's main market is not the typical American modeler. Instead, they aim primarily for their home market of Japan. It has been mentioned by a number of (off the record) sources that Kato USA is not an easy company to work for. It is a traditional Japanese company operating in America, and input attempts by the Americans working there to align their marketing with typical American tastes and approaches often falls on dead ears.

This is not an attempt to discredit their models in any way, in fact, most of Kato's products are incredible modelers. The angst that often gets leveled at them has nothing to do with the models they do produce (well, except for the mis-spelled California Zephyr car), instead, it springs from modelers desire for Kato to make models that they would be interested in. This creates a cognitive disconnect, where people don't understand why this highly esteemed company doesn't seem to "get it". Instead, they do "get it", it's just that the "it" that they get is a different it than modelers expect.

As I have said, Kato aims to build models of iconic American trains. When viewing their model selection from that angle the following model choices make complete sense.

The SD80mac

There were only 30 SD80macs produced, and at the time that Kato first made the models (2001), they only wore a total of 3 paint schemes (5 if you count Conrail paint with NS or CSX patches) for 3 railroads. If Kato based its choices on the number of North American modelers who would have interest in a model, the SD80mac (and this hurts to say because I bleed Conrail Blue...) would not have been a smart choice.

However...

The Conrail SD80mac has a big story to it. It (and the its 90MAC bretheren) were the biggest and baddest engines around. They were the diesel equivalent of the UP Big Boys. They were also the engine that were emblematic of Conrail's ascent from a government supported wreck to highly prized takeover target.

Kato's own marketing copy supports this with phrases like "The SD80MAC is one of today's most powerful locomotives, seen throughout North America on Class I mainline railroads.", "Weighing in at more than 400,000 pounds and with a length in excess of 80 feet, the SD80MAC is one of the heaviest and longest single diesel locomotive in the world.", and "The behemoth SD80MAC can generate up to 5,000 horsepower." further illustrates this.

These models were not one of Kato's most stellar selling models, and a number of them were, up until recently, if not currently, still available from Kato. This is also evident in the small number of re-runs that they have done, only offering one more run of these after the initial one, and that of the remaining paint schemes that they wore. Since that time one more scheme can be added to the list, but I would be very surprised to see these being made again any time soon.

The Zephyrettes

The Budd RDC falls squarely into Kato Japan's core competencies. They make a large number of RDC like Japanese trains. It is very logical therefore for them to make the North American equivalent. What seems to puzzle many North American modelers was their roadname choice. In this case, Kato went for flashy paintschemes or big stories, like the Western Pacific's "Zephyrettes", or the rugged appeal of the Alaskan Wilderness. This is the only way to make any sense out of their choice to make them in Northern Pacific (who had fewer than 10 RDCs), but not in Boston & Maine (the proud owner of nearly 100 of them).

As a result of their tendency to make models of standout prototypes, many modelers claim that Kato has a strong bias toward western roadnames. I think that while they may seem to make a disproportionate number of models for western roadnames, it is not that they favor these individual roads, but that these roads simply have more "drama" that can easily be sold in their home market of Japan.

The California Zephyr

The California Zephyr set was Kato's first real attempt to bring the approach that they bring to Japanese models to an American one. Most every dealer that I have talked to labels these, without a doubt, a real commercial success. Instead of only marketing individual models, with the CZ, Kato offered a model of a "train". They produced the cars and packaged them in a way that sold their iconic status, and touted the story and drama that made the real CZ interesting. They then also produced the assorted locomotives that pulled the train. With these locomotives, they didn't aim for the widest cross section of modelers, instead, they aimed for the ones with the best story to be told.

Although Santa Fe's red and silver "Warbonnet" may be the most recognized PA, there were many other notable paint schemes. Delaware & Hudson purchased four second-hand PA locomotives from Santa Fe, simply replacing their blue for Santa Fe's red. Two have recently been repatriated from Mexico and are undergoing restoration."

The Coalporters

Kato initially waded into the American freight car market with ACF covered hoppers. These cars were not found to be a commercial success, so for their second foray into this crowded marketplace, Kato came out with something that initially puzzled many modelers: the Bethgon Coalporter. Why would Kato come out with a model that had three other competitors? Deluxe Innovations, LBF and Athearn were all either making or planning on making these models. None of them were truly perfect models, but they were all good enough to make many modelers very happy.

Kato, however, saw a chance to package these cars (in peoples minds) with a number of existing and upcoming locomotives. These cars are iconic in the modern era, with strings of them being used from coast to coast. They tied in perfectly with Kato's existing AC4400s, SD70s, SD80 and 90macs, and planned (at the time) modern era (because of their ditchlights) SD40-2s. Kato was able to market these cars by selling the idea of "hauling the precious black diamonds which drive the majority of North America's heating and power services" (taken from Kato's CoalPorter mini-site) instead of just "these are coal cars".

Given the number of times that Kato has "gone back to the well" with these cars, they must be seen as a financial success, and as more evidence that their marketing plan works.

The Maxi Stacks

Kato followed up their successful foray into modern freight car production with another iconic model: The Gunderson Maxi-IV Well Cars. These cars are an integral part of modern railroading, enabling, in conjunction with coal traffic, railroads to reach new levels of efficiency and profitability. Combine this prototype importance with the imagery of modern day big time railroading, and you find an easy package to sell.

So what does this mean?

Kato seems to get a bad rap with a lot of modelers for seeming to only be making western models. While this is an over reaching generalization, the truth is that the models that Kato ends up producing are not geographically biased, but are biased toward models for which a story can be told or have some flash. It just so happens that these tend to be models of western prototypes.

It's interesting to note that when I had started writing this post about 6 months ago, in this very space I predicted a PRR Broadway Limited set being made. It turns out now that this is the case, but I'm leaving the post as it was below.

I would not be surprised to someday see a model of the Pennsylvania Railroad's Broadway Limited, but if it appears, I would also not be surprised if a follow on model of the New York Central's 20th Century Limited was also produced, because their races between New York City and Chicago could prove to be a good story to tell. I could also see models of a New York to Florida passenger train, like the Champion, being made. However, I would be very surprised to see a model of something like Pennyslvania's other passenger trains, like the Liberty Limited that linked Baltimore and Buffalo, or even the Congressional which linked Washington DC and New York.

When you view Kato's releases in this light, a lot of their seemingly strange behavior becomes completely logical (like Algoma Central SD40s). What this understanding may still never be able to help, however, is many modeler's disappointment when their beloved prototypes don't seem to be iconic trains in Kato's view.

One other thought

Then again, the other explanation for Kato's perceived western road bias could simply be that they have reviewed their sales numbers, and find that ATSF, BNSF, UP and CB&Q consistently sell out, while models like their Southern E8s collect dust on their warehouse shelves.

Image credits

Conrail Cadillacs: The SD80MAC - SD80mac.com/
Kato USA: KatoUSA.com

Build or Buy?

I work as a software engineer for a major pharmaceutical company; our group develops applications for chemists and research scientists of many disciplines. When we are approached by a research team or department to address a potential new challenge, one of the first questions we ask ourselves before lifting a finger is, do we build it, or buy it?

It's hard to know the right answer, because there is usually a long list of pros and cons for either approach. Generally speaking, buying has the potential of bringing a project to completion in weeks instead of months, but it requires a substantial capital outlay, and the project may still get bogged down with customizations required to get the application into a form suitable for the users. Building has the potential of providing an application that precisely suits the users' needs, but it might come at an expense of effort measured in man-years; we might also lack the internal talent required to deliver certain highly specialized solutions.

Perhaps not surprisingly, model railroaders face the same issues when it comes to creating our layouts. Do we build our models, or buy them?



Building a model is naturally very satisfying. And it results in something unique, something that will not be found on any other layout. Even before construction begins, though, a substantial time investment is necessary in order to research both the actual object as well as the model construction materials and techniques. It may also require skills that not everyone possesses, so it may not be an option for some of us.

Buying a model provides instant gratification and accelerates layout-building, allowing us to reach a satisfying level of completion earlier, leaving us more time to operate and enjoy our layouts. Also, being less emotionally attached to our models frees us to experiment more, to move or replace them in order to try different approaches.

Most modelers strike a balance and do both: it's impractical (or impossible) for many to scratchbuild locomotives and rolling stock. Indeed, it's safe to say that the vast majority of modelers buy their rolling stock: there would otherwise not be so much discussion (sometimes rather heated) at online forums over the accuracy of commercial locomotives and such.

Just as it is in the business world, though, time is every bit a commodity as materials. Scratchbuilding is of course more economical than buying kits or built-ups from a materials standpoint, but one must also factor in the time involved. These days, with time being a key factor in both my work and hobby budgets, I'm inclined to look at my modeling effort as an investment. That $20 kit might only represent $5 of materials if scratchbuilt, but it might take $100 of my time to scratchbuild it. Another business parallel is the Return on Investment (ROI) angle: will it be worth the effort to scratchbuild certain mundane detail items when perfectly adequate kits exist?



Lately, as I attempt to squeeze in a few precious minutes of modeling here and there in my crazy-busy schedule, I face the build or buy question almost continuously. As is the case for my work, I much prefer to build because it is far more satisfying, and I get exactly what I want (more or less, depending on skill and a bit of luck). But when my modeling progress can be measured in inches per year instead of feet, I must stop and think hard about striking a compromise in order to achieve my goals in a more realistic timeline. Yes, I realize that others will recognize nearly every building in my model town, and this will not accurately reflect my true desires or skills as a modeler. But at least I have a town, which would not be the case if I built everything from scratch.

For the time being, buying rather than building is a stop-gap measure, a means to cut to the chase and get up and running more quickly. I know that when I retire, all of the business-like time/cost factors will go away; I will be able to kick back and spend large blocks of time modeling at a leisurely pace, and I will almost always build before I buy, no question.

But I'd still like to be able to run a train through a landscape populated by buildings and scenery before I retire! So, out comes the plastic, and to the web stores I go a-shopping. (I like to further justify this approach by thinking that my relatively tiny contribution helps to support the growth of the industry...)

Thankfully, those of us who choose to buy—whatever our reasons—know that we are perhaps enjoying the "golden years" of model railroading right now. Never before has there been such a bountiful crop of quality goods. For some, it's the only way they will be able to enjoy a layout right now; for others, it's the only way to enjoy a layout at all.

What is model railroading?

I joke that I have been a practicing modeler since I was two.

One day, just before Christmas I decided that the operations on the christmas layout (not to be confused with the serious model railroad living in the basement) were not prototypical enough, and that it needed something. While my mother cooked dinner, and my father was at work, I took out my fisher price tools (the safe screwdriver was key here) and set to work. Somehow I pried up some spikes and removed some rail joiners and re-laid some track. Where these came from, and the other mechanics of how I did this are all lost to the intervening 23 years of time, but model I did, I assure you. My parents discovered my handiwork, and being suitably impressed (my father was a modeler himself, hence the layout in the basement) asked me what I had done. I informed them, very matter of factly that I had installed a passing siding.

Now, while you may say that what I did was playing, I posit that this was my first true modeling experience. I performed three individual behaviors that I find myself repeating to this day.

I observed reality. As a child (and even one of a scant two years old) my parents would make the pilgrimage to Strasburg PA's bastion of steam, Strasburg Railroad, what seemed like monthly during the summer. Arguably, this was my first real immersion in the world of prototype railroading, and I credit it for many of my later tastes. At Strasburg, I observed that real trains used passing sidings in their business of being railroads. I also observed that steam locomotives are loud, and that the headlight on their 2-10-0 #90 came from the pyle manufacturing company, and that it had a Sinclair style radio antenna on the cab. I also observed the color of the ballast, the color of the trees and the automobiles in the parking lot.

I filtered the reality that I observed and identified traits which seemed important to me as elements representing the reality that I observed. This process began with my observations of reality. At that point I made conscious and unconscious decisions about what parts of the experience I wanted to remember and committed to memory. When I was two, I imagine the aspects of reality which I committed to memory were much more unconscious than conscious, but I believe that the majority of what we modelers absorb is done this way. I know that lately I've been consciously looking at and attempting to digest the patterns of vegetation near various rights of way (railroad, highway, etc) so that I can better understand them and then reproduce them, but most of my modeling is based on experiences and observations that I did not intentionally commit to memory, but I know are there whenever I see something that "looks right". This process of interpretation is not restricted to long term memory. It also comes into play when observing photographs (since there is always a selective impression, call it memory of what we see in a photograph, even if we almost immediately perform an action based on a photo). When I look at a photograph of a locomotive in a scene, I may see take away "they used that locomotive in that service at that time", while another modeler might notice the weathering pattern on the trucks, while yet another may note that the three radiator fan styles do not match and a final may observe "wow, that locomotive looks particularly handsome in that paint scheme". I believe that how we process our observations through the process of selective recall largely dictates our modeling tastes and pursuits, even if we don't consciously acknowledge it. When I was two and performing my first track-work, I couldn't tell you the manufacturer of the headlight adorning 90's smoke-box, but I could tell you it needed a passing siding to run around its train at each end of its run.



I attempted to recreate the filtered reality in miniature. My reproduction of my observed reality was what lies, I believe, at the crux of what we all do in our modeling. We create our own interpreted versions of reality in miniature. Modelers do this in a vast array of ways. From very abstract versions of reality represented in many tinplate style layouts (that I have observed are not always O gauge, and since we do not seem to have agreed apon genre terminologies in model railroading, I use the term despite it's reference to a specific scale, guage and even manufacturer) to highly researched and intricately detailed layouts that are aim to represent a very specific prototype on a specific date. Our ability to recreate our filtered reliability rest in our skill levels in the various aspects of modeling, and the value we place on these aspects. For example, modelers who are primarily focused on solving the often complex engineering problems posed by model railroading may not care that their ability to recreate a winter forest scene is lacking, but they may be very interested in advancing their skills with a soldering iron, and what advancing that skill means for how rewarding they find the hobby. Conversely, my lack of soldering ability does not hold me back from enjoying the hobby because I don't tackle complex soldering projects, instead I focus on an aspect I do find rewarding, such as scene building. Some other modelers do not seem intent on replicating the details of reality, instead relying on more symbolic representations of reality to replicate their interpreted version of reality. It may not matter to model railroaders of this persuasion that they are creating more a caricature of reality than a reproduction, they still derive their enjoyment from their attempts.

In rebuilding my family's Christmas layout, I performed all three of these key modeling functions, and I whole heartedly believe that that was my first true model railroading experience.

I also believe that the spectrum of modelers that exist fans out not from different realities which they observe, but the different ways in which they interpret them, and the different ways they attempt to create the versions of reality that they have constructed in miniature form.

I also believe that much of the conflict that often arises on model railroad fora stems from the fact that we, as a community of hobbyists, have never really discussed and acknowledged these differences. Recognizing the differences in individuals modeling efforts as differences of approach as opposed to differences in value would be an step toward calming some of the animosity that often seems to manifest itself between "Tin platers" and "Deputized rivet counting members of the proto police".

What Am I Modeling?

Railroads are intensely interesting to me. Modeling is intensely interesting to me. It should therefore come as no surprise that I am a model railroader, and have been since the mid-60s. But what specifically am I modeling, and why is it all so intensely interesting?

Ed has previously explored some the many kinds of modeling that we do. Some choose to recreate the day-to-day operations of a line of interest. Some wish to accurately represent a railroad and its setting with no desire to reproduce its operations. Others have no inclination to remain faithful to any real railroad, and simply enjoy seeing model trains in action. These are but a few of the many possible flavors of modeler.

I've had a hard time classifying my modeling. While I am generally reticent to pigeon-hole myself, recent forum discussions and blog entries have had me pondering the meaning and purpose of my modeling efforts. Presently I am sitting on a commuter train bound for New York City, and as I have on nearly every such trip I've taken—which is a great many, since at one time I commuted to the Big Apple for several years—I am passing the time by studying the railroad.



I see countless disused spurs, bridges, industries and other railroading artifacts—so many that it's often depressing. For example, I am right now passing a big old factory complex near Newark, a sprawling sea of crumbling brick laced with a cobweb of rails buried in dirt. I wish I'd brought my camera. But this is a business trip, and I prefer to travel as lightly as possible, so I have only my laptop.

Perhaps it's just as well that I am without camera; I might otherwise be focused on taking photographs. Instead I'm focused on my feelings as I study the world outside, and recording them in near-real time. As a result, I'm coming to a better sense of my modeling passion: I want to bottle the bittersweet, melancholy mood I experience as I take in the remains of that great icon of the industrial revolution.

It explains why my last layout had so much abandoned track. I rationalized it as a means to heighten the realism of a modern-day setting; yet, for practical reasons, we all model things selectively, so why would I choose to include so much of something most modelers rightfully consider a waste of precious real estate? Because it supported the mood I wished to capture and convey.



My last layout also featured a vast factory complex, all abandoned save for a small recycling center staked out under an old transfer crane. One of the recycling center's most prominent features was an enormous pile of palettes, which was inspired by one that I passed on my commuter trips. The factory was an amalgam of many such places in and around Trenton, not far from where I lived.

A favorite activity of mine is chasing down old rail lines. I get a little thrill when I spot a strip of trees marking the path of a long-abandoned right-of-way, and then find it on an old map. For a long time I harbored a desire to render a map of New Jersey that detailed the condition of every rail line that ever existed in the state, all supported by field research. After a while, I came to realize that this was a much bigger task than I was ready to tackle, not to mention that I'd probably be eternally frustrated not being able to model everything I found.

I also have this inexplicable attraction to abandoned factories. Anything from a few telltale foundation stones peeking out from beneath the brambles in a wooded lot to enormous brick mausoleums housing the rusted remains of machinery—I'm drawn to them like a moth to candles. And if the factory was served by rail, all the better.



Thus the recurring theme of my recent modeling has been a depiction not of what was, as in period modeling, but of what remains. Somehow, owing to my singular personality, seeing things that are still standing is more evocative than seeing things the way they used to be. It's as if I'm an archaeologist (which I might have been in an alternate life) preserving artifacts as they are just before the dig or the reconstruction.



I'm not a rivet counter, but I enjoy modeling things with lots of rusty old rivets, and doing so as realistically as possible. I'm not married to modeling a particular railroad, but there are a few real roads that attract my attention because of where and when they ran. I'm not much interested in operation, but I do like learning about it, if only to get a feel for what used to take place among the weeds where I'm standing. I'm not much closer to comprehending why this is all so for me, but at least I've connected some of the dots and finally become better aware of what exactly I'm modeling.

I am modeling a mood.