A Light-Hearted Look at Ferndale's Kinetic Sculpture Race
by Stan Bennett 1975
This is as close to a facsimile reprint
as possible given the limits of html publishing and the wide range of
quality of the original pictures, many of them unfortunately not very
well printed. The text was typed in by hand and the photos reproduced
by electronic photography. If you have any of the originals, please
contact the webmaster!
Cover Photo by Duane Martin
Special thanks to Muriel Dinsmore of the Eureka Times-Standard, and to her son, Jeff, who were very generous with their time and support.
Frontispiece Photo
This publication is made possible in part by Viola Russ McBride whose continuing support of Ferndale makes this place a good place to be.
Published by the Low Tide Lumber Company
L.N. Eifert, President
Ferndale, California 95536
First edition May 1975
Copyright 1975 by Stan Bennett used by express permission
"They crawl, they wiggle, they roll, they run sideways, they squeak, they wobble, they break down. And the crowd loves it."
Eureka Times-Standard, May 1970.
Here's the machine and the man who started the whole thing. Hobart Brown riding his 1969 relic, the Pentacycle, down one of Ferndale's alleys, says: "Hey! It still works!"
Picture of Ferndale - photo by George Waldner
For most of the year, Ferndale, on the Northern California coast, is a
quiet, pastoral Victorian village. Its normal daily interests center
around cattle ranches, dairy farming, general business, and arts and
crafts. The population is stable; about 1400 at this time.
But on Mother's Day each year, Ferndale becomes a scene of
carnival hilarity when six to ten thousand visitors jam the streets to
watch the annual Kinetic Sculpture Race. It is easy to understand the
interest in this spectacle when one has witnessed it. The sculpture
race is the original and - as far as we know - the only one of its
kind.
What primal urge provokes otherwise normal men and
women into spending so many hours building weird machines that are used
once, and then discarded? Whatever the basic motives that prevail
intrepid drivers propel lurching and faltering contraptions along two
blocks of Main Street, suffering the "slings and arrows of outrageous
fortune" as wheels fall off and stray parts clatter to the pavement.
It is billed as a race, but speed is not really of prime importance.
Design and construction ingenuity (funkiness if you will) are
considered of greater importance.
According to one contestant:
Aw hell, anyone can fix up a 10-speed bike and go fast. My idea is to go funny.
Another contestant said:
Speed is almost non-existent. There'd be no show if there was just
speed involved. For example, look at Jack and Hobart who entered a
so-called 'walking machine' in 1972 that took over an hour to finish
the course.
Farmer Go Round 1969
This prevailing anti-speed attitude is probably a good thing because steering gear and brakes are not always reliable.
Almost anyone can enter. With only a nominal entry fee and
whatever construction costs are involved, plus a lot of enthusiasm, one
can attempt to move a kinetic sculpture from"the Ivanhoe corner to
Tipple's" (local terminology), in competition with a dozen or more
others. Fortunately for the bigger, heavier, clumsier machines, this is
a slight downhill grade. In 1970, the race was run in the other
direction, proving disastrous to many of the entries that were designed
to move downhill. There were so many complaints by contestants that
this has not been attempted again.
We don't even notice the crowd; we're so worried about the chains staying on the sprockets or the machine breaking down.
Unidentified racer
The Kinetic
Sculpture Race is an annual event, climaxing a week-long series of
activities connected with Ferndale's Art Festival. The festival began
in 1963 with two purposes in mind; it was to be a show window for
artists long established in the community, and also was intended to
encourage young talented people growing up in the area. It was an
immediate success. Starting as a three day event, the Art Festival was
extended to eight days in 1965 when it was decided at that time that it
would conclude on Mother's Day.
For several years the festival continued to grow. New artists
in the community, both amateur and professional, participated. People
living throughout Humboldt County accepted it as a pleasantly exciting
event. The festival was well publicized by articles in travel journals,
newspaper and national magazines. It began to draw artists and visitors
from far points.
Then, in 1969, something happened from which some Ferndale
residents have never recovered. Two local metal sculptors, Hobart Brown
and Jack Mays, created a competitive event almost by accident that was
an instant success, both from the spectators' and the competitors'
viewpoint. This was the Kinetic Sculpture Race.
How did it start? Who first said,"Hey, let's race a couple of
sculptures down Main Street?" Neither of the original entrants will
claim to be actual perpetrators of the contest, but both admit to
having had something to do with it. How it started depends largely on
who you talk to, but here is one version that seems acceptable to most.
Back in early 1969, Hobart Brown built a kinetic sculpture.
This was a strange looking device, a sort-of tricycle but with five
wheels, and painted red. (This historic vehicle is still on display in
Ferndale.)
While Hobart was welding it together, Jack Mays, another well known
local metal sculptor, saw it. He thought it was pretty funny.
Jack:
I ridiculed the whole thing. It was so
absolutely laughable. But then I thought for a moment and said, "I can
build a better one than that."
Hobart:
Oh?
Jack:
Sure. In fact, I'll build a kinetic sculpture and we ought to race them.
Jack figured that he would win easily because he could weld together something impressive, like an army-type tank.
Hobart:
When?
Jack:
Why not the Art Festival?
Hobart:
Great!
Jack, being a bit more pragmatic, then asked: "What about rules?"
Hobart:
Well, I don't know. We'll figure out something.
The rules were established that evening, mostly by Jack Mays. Almost all of them have been retained over the years. They were pretty loose, as rules, go but have proven effective. Quoting from the 1969 entry blank:
Sculpture must be powered by people; no engine.
Feet must not touch the ground.
Must complete race to qualify.
Each sculpture must have at least one driver, but no more than five.
Sculpture may not be dangerous or harmful to others.
Jack
and Hobart were friendly competitors, so this seemed like an
interesting way to extend the rivalry. According to Jack, the survivor
would be the winner.
One thing led to another. Congressman Don Clausen was photographed while riding Hobart's Pentacycle
down Main Street in Ferndale and subsequently received national
publicity for this. The machine was exhibited in Hobart's gallery and
seen by many people who wondered what it was all about. Hobart went to
the Art Festival committee who agreed that a kinetic sculpture race
might be an interesting way to finish the Art Festival Week. He also
suggested (page 9) that the race should end at the location of the
annual Ferndale Art Auction (Tipple's Garage), which might help to
increase the number of spectators and prospective art buyers at that
event. With an inherent feel for publicity, he talked to some of his
friends.
Well, yes, I guess I did mention it to some people - Bob
Brown, Reed Strope. People would come into the gallery so I would say
something about the race. Pretty soon, others were getting involved.
Let's see, there was Byron Burlingame, David Genzoli, others. I wasn't
trying to promote a big thing, you know. I just thought it might be fun.
Hobart Brown
Others thought it might be fun, too. Local
newspapers began to write about the upcoming event and, suddenly, all
over Humboldt County there were people who began secretly to build
vehicles to race against Jack and Hobart. The original participants,
now having agreed to race against each other on Mother's Day, went
about their work and didn't think much more about it. After all, it was
really (they thought) a personal affair.
About noon on Mother's Day, Jack
Mays was doing some last minute welding on his tank at what was to be
the starting line in front of the Ivanhoe, a local saloon. He says
there were a few people wandering around, wondering what was happening,
but he was concerned with what he was doing and didn't give this much
thought. And he was also wondering where his competitor was. Hobart
hadn't showed up yet.
"I finished fixing the tank and went home to get myself
cleaned up," said Jack, recently."When I came back in about an hour, I
couldn't believe it. There were about ten thousand people milling
around in the street. It was absolutely incredible."
When Jack recovered, he looked around.
There was my 12-foot high tank sitting next to Hobart's weak little entry, the red Pentacycle. I felt good. It looked like the U.S. Army against Red Riding Hood.
Then Jack looked around some more. There was another entry on the street.
I didn't believe this, either. There was this beautiful and
refined machine by Tom Maddox, looking like it already was going a
hundred miles an hour. It was something out of Detroit and it totally
demoralized me. I thought, "What am I doing here?"
Jack Mays, looking a little like Humphrey Bogart in the movie Sahara
awaits Hobart (or maybe the Afrika Korps). Jack will be ready for the
war as soon as he paints the tank and gets the cows out of the way.
In a short time there were about a dozen other entries, ready to race.
They came from Eureka, Arcata and other points around the county. One
entry arrived from McMinnville, Oregon.
There were few rules for this first race and no crowd control, so everyone got into the act. It was a great success.
Jack Mays' tank conked out early, even though the crowd was
enthusiastically trying to push it down Main Street. Hobart's highly
touted Pentacycle
collapsed. (Some witnesses claim that Jack exerted direct influence on
its demise by kicking a wheel.) The Grand Champion was Bob Brown of
Eureka, driving a kinetic turtle that laid eggs, emitted steam, and
occasionally produced a mating call. A newspaper article stated:
But if there is any doubt that Ferndale has found itself
an annual event of spectacular proportions, that doubt does not exist
in the mind of any person who attended this wacky show, the good humor
and genuine enjoyment of which was contagious to the highest degree.
Andrew Genzoli, writing in the Eureka Times-Standard, said
It was the first of its kind ever held anywhere, because no
one ever thought of having such an event, and if another is never held,
for those who witnessed it, the race will never be forgotten. Not since
the days of "Rosie the Riveter" has so much welding been seen in such
confusion.
It was great fun and a fine way to end a successful Art Festival Week.
Hobart Brown and Jack Mays
Hobart:
Remember that neat Pentacycle?
Jack:
Yeah, I smashed it with my tank.
Hobart:
You still didn't win the race.
Jack:
Neither did you. Someone else did.
The first Kinetic Sculpture Race produced some startling entries, including Bob Brown's prize-winning Tortoise.
Tortoise, 1969
The exhausted Tortoise with its creator (also tired).
Astral Roc, 1969
Ferndale artist Barbara Ludwick stands beside Hobart Brown's Astral Roc, driven by Judge William Watson, Jr. in the first Kinetic Sculpture Race, 1969.
View of the 1969 starting line. In foreground, Sheila Lawrence clutches the Willamette Special,
a converted sewing machine while Gary leans over the sculpture, trying
to figure out why it won't turn, stop or run right. In the background,
two more entries are scuttling along.
Dragster, 1969
First place for speed in 1969 went to Tom Maddox, whose racer looked
like it was ready to take on the Indianapolis 500 entries. He called it
the Dragster, and it went like one.
A couple of months ago, when several prospective
competitors were standing around a wood shop stove and discussing race
plans for 1975, Hobart commented:
"You know, it's kind of funny. We start out on one of
these projects by talking a lot about it. We discuss possible machine
designs and we get enthusiastic. There always a lot of mouth involved.
Then, we have to put up or shut up. It's the real versus the ideal.
After awhile it becomes serious."
"It's always serious, Hobart," said Jack Mays.
"Right. We stop talking to each other and everything becomes secret and
terribly important. Then toward the end, it all changes again and there
we are, people with competing sculptures helping each other, loaning
conduit and welding torches and glue to each other," said Hobart.
Hobart, on his Pentacycle, and Bob Brown, peering from his uncompleted Tortoise, consider having a private race.
Melinda Wagner, co-owner of the Gazebo, poses
prettily aboard Reed Strope's Powered Flower, an entry left over from
1969 and now owned by the Gazebo in Ferndale.
"But it's fun to play the game," said [local blacksmith] Joe Koches.
"Right," replied Hobart."Look at the Cross Country [Kinetic
Sculpture Race], for instance. There was Jack Mays, reluctant to enter,
as usual. Standing around saying `I don't want to.' Then, suddenly he
comes up with this great idea. He borrows an old wheelchair from Stan
Bennett, some conduit from Larry Eifert, and gets some five-gallon cans
from somewhere. Then, in about 2 and 1/2 hours, we weld together his
entry, which won. It's such a good feeling. All these people working
together and it's all just for fun, or maybe for humanity."
This ends the first part of Crazy Contraptions, 1975 by Stan Bennett
which he has graciously allowed Kinetic Kingdom to reproduce.
Ferndale in snow from an old postcard series
Thank you for reading all the way down here... See you on race day!
