You will find short stories on this site. Most are autobiographical. Some are fiction.

P E R P E T U A L M O T I O N

The dinner dishes had been washed, the ten boys at Prince Helfrich’s boys’ camp gathered around the dying campfire. They sat on logs and talked about events of the day as they watched the darkness of evening slowly creep over the tops of the Three Sisters Mountains. Helfrich walked up to the fire. He and Veltie had been tending the pack animals. He took his place on a log near the fire and asked. “You boys want to hear a story?” The boys replied with a collective “Yes”.

“Unlike our other stories, of trappers in the Cascade mountains, tonight I’m going to tell you about an inventive miner named Tomas McCleary. (pseudonym).

Gold was discovered in the Rogue River in 1851. Soon gold miners came to the rugged canyon to set up camps and pan for gold. Most of the miners lived in tents and panned during the summer months. The more rugged individuals staked out “claims” by virtue of building a cabin. McCleary was one of those men who made the canyon his home. Unlike the others miners, who set up their camps by the river, McCleary sought privacy. He found a clearing above a high granite cliff overlooking the river. He built his cabin at the rear of the clearing, so it could not be seen from the river. It was rumored that his desire for solitude was because he was a wanted man. The clearing was large enough for a vegetable garden and three apple trees. He made it into his little paradise. He tamed the forest animals, especially the deer, one doe was the most tame. He called her “Sweetheart”.

Rather than panning for gold day after day, like other miners , McCleary preferred to spend his time in his garden and working on his inventions. Consequently he would pan for gold only long enough to get what was needed to buy food and supplies. His shopping trips were arduous. The trail to town was a long and rugged hike. Because it was so difficult, he made the trip infrequently.

While some of his initial building materials were floated down the Rogue River, He had packed much of it, including his cast iron wood stove over that trail.

He also carried the steel plate and angle iron which he used to build a machine that, when started, would continue to rotate under its own power.

Although he preferred his privacy he would occasionally be in need food, supplies, and human contact, so on his trips to town, he would spend the evening in the saloon with his friend Henry and other miners. He would rent a room above the saloon for sleep. On one occasion he told the other miners about his perpetual motion machine. They laughed at him thinking him to be joking or crazy. Henry laughed the loudest. McCleary insisted that his perpetual motion machine worked. Pointing to Henry he said “I will bring it next time I come to town. I will start it when you all are here at the saloon. If it is still rotating when the saloon closes, you, Henry, you will pick up my tab for the evening’s food and drink. If it has stopped, ‘I will pay your tab.’ OK?” Henry laughed confidently as he said, “You’ve got yourself a bet.”

A month later, MCleary, disassembled his machine. He secured the steel plate to his pack board. Then he lashed the two arms with weights at one end onto the board. In the morning he hoisted his 80 pound, pack onto his shoulders and started the long hike to town. Once there he assembled the machine on the elevated wooden sidewalk outside the saloon. The strange-looking machine attracted the attention of those passing by.

When his friends had arrived at the saloon, he started the rotation of the arms on the spindle. The miners and bystanders watched it spin. With each rotation the arms were drawn in toward the spindle and then released to be thrust outward, propelling the rotation further. After watching it spin for a couple of minutes, the miners entered the saloon to enjoy the evening of stories, laughs, women, and booze. Hours later, when the bartender made the last call, the miners staggered out to see if McCleary’s machine was still turning. They were astounded to find that it was spinning. Henry paid McCleary’s tab. None of them considered that curious bystanders may have kept it spinning. In either case, it was in perpetual motion.

The next day McCleary disassembled, packed, and carried his, now famous, perpetual motion machine back down the long river trail to his hidden cabin paradise.”

Footnote: I have taken some liberty to elaborate on the story as Prince told it, but the essential events are as he told them. The miner’s names are not historically correct.