My raw material is a 1/16x2 ½ inch (2mmx 65mm) hardwood dowel. (I’ve been using these from the same original bag since well before the first book, and I can’t seem to make the bag any smaller.) These will be turned down to about 1.1mm x about 10mm and bored (drilled) to accept standard (heavy) upholstery thread (.2mm). The math results in a problem of how to pass .6mm of railing material though a hole in a 1.1mm post without destroying wood that can’t be any thicker than .25mm on each side of the hole. This assumes a perfectly round peg and a perfectly centered hole.

  This is one of those happy times when no manmade material can handle the job as well as wood, and no machine tool can do the job any better than the human eye. With a tool made from scrap.

  Here’s a picture of the basic setup, and I’ll explain the parts and the process:

  .

  From the left, a turned peg chucked into a Dremel tool (with a 3/32 collet. You don’t need the Dremel tool- I used to turn these using my thumb and index finger as a lathe.) The turned peg is inserted into a scrap that was bored through and hole-sized to about 1.1mm. Using this scrap piece is a quick way to test sizing as you go.

  The three lines in the scrap paint paddle (left) outline ½ of a peg with a 10mm area that will be turned. The larger length fits into your fingers or the tool.

  A test peg with upholstery thread. The hole was drilled with the #76 (.5mm, .02”) bit shown chucked into the blue pin vise. It’s tough to see, but right at the end of the thread is what’s left of a beading (big eye) needle that has seen a lot of action. This type has welded ends- you’re better off using the type with twisted ends.

  Next is a drill guide made from a mahogany scrap. This was deeply scored with the sharp knife, and then marked and drilled at 2mm and 5mm from the leading (right hand) edge. A miniature rattail file created a very small, rounded valley.

  A cut peg is sitting between two scraps (clamps) that were clamped and glued to create a slight force-fit for the pegs as they’re being drilled. The outboard (right) edges of the mahogany and the clamps were sanded square. The top edges of the scrap clamps were sanded so that the peg rises very slightly above the clamps When the mahogany drill guide is placed on the peg (valley down), everything is held more or less perfectly in place. You’ll know that your setup is OK if you can feel a very slight bump when the drill mask fits over the peg.

  Once the top of the peg is flush to the edges of the clamp and the guide, drill both your holes through the peg using the guide holes.

  Inspect your first peg very carefully. If either hole is off-center (at all), drill another peg. If that one is off-center, too, then the wood isn’t the problem. Remake your guide.

  The picture also shows the emery board that I’m using (that is on its last legs) and the sack of pegs.

  Turn down the peg to about 1.4mm and inspect the holes again. If they aren’t still perfectly centered discard the peg and start over again. (If you keep going with an off-center, one of the peg walls will fail and tear through when you thread the hole).

  When the peg is down to 1.1-1.2mm it is now a stanchion. I’m using about a 12-inch length of black upholstery thread, doubled, and two needles. So, I’m simply threading each unpainted stanchion and sliding moving each one down the line toward the end loop. When eight are done I’m giving them all a coat of white craft paint. If they’re all down at one end it doesn’t matter if the thread gets painted, too (but not heavily).

  Starting at the aft end of the foredeck, on a parallel line about 1/16th from the deck edge, mark and drill the stanchion mounting holes on 11mm centers using a 1mm bit.

  This picture will help describe the rest of the process:

  At lower right is a piece of 1/32nd scrap that I’ve filed to fit over the ends of each stanchion. I’m resting that very lightly against the thread and trimming each one with the knife so that its head is pretty much exactly 1/32nd above the thread. The green card stock at the left is cut to a width of 9.5mm and 7mm. I’m cutting each stanchion away from its base exactly 9.5mm from the trimmed top edge. I ‘ll use the 7mm strip to line everybody up when they’re in their holes.

  To place a stanchion in a hole, use a rattail minifile to dress and slightly enlarge the hole until the next post fits very snugly. I don’t know any other way to explain it.

  Keep trimming and placing from stern to bow, then gently pull the thread taut. Your foredeck should look something like this:

  That’s it for the foredeck for now, so on to the main deck rail.

  The rails, like many other details, varied. In the 1961 photo series, and in the Ike photos, the rails stanchions and posts are plain pipes. These and a series of cables and turnbuckles supported the canvas splash or privacy skirt. Together this format protected a seated passenger from view, but also prevented that passenger from seeing very much. This might have suited someone accustomed to riding in a tank, but not a sailor who was accustomed to looking around.

  The photographic evidence supports the notion that JFK had the rails replaced to look and feel like a yacht, but he also installed seating that lined up the rail with his shoulders, rather than the top of his head. Thus, mahogany rails. And comparing various photos with the photo of the formal after deck setting, he also had the four aft posts and the last six feet of canopy (upper deck) removed. Apparently, any concerns about reduced security, etc., fell on deaf ears.

  Unlike the foredeck, the main deck will not allow us to adjust the plumb. We have to hit dead center and pass a 1mm post through two rails that are 1.58mm (1/16th) wide. Attempting to fit a pre-built rail to this hull is a recipe for disaster. Having gotten my excuses out of the way I can proceed with a murky conscience.

  For this one you’ll need another drilling fixture (mask). The main platform consists of (2) 15x50mm 1/16th scraps of mahogany framing a leftover scrap of bulkhead sandwich (plywood and basswood) held together by wood glue and severely clamped. The mask is very thick because my pin vise skills don’t include absolutes.

  A 1/8th square of basswood was then glued to one side. When this was dry a second square was glued- this one was separated from the first by (2) 1/32nd scrap strips of mahogany, creating a 1/6th alleyway. This picture will help:

  The center strips were marked at 11mm and pilot holes were drilled between the strips and through the platform. This was followed by (4) finished 1mm holes. I then sanded about 1/64th off the basswood so that the fixture would index to the railing on the model, and tested everything using 1/16th scraps.

  I passed on using brass rod for the stanchions because any type of thin paint will slough if you touch it. If your intent is to build a model of the Honey Fitz you can just install the canvas privacy panel and hide all the posts. My objective is to explore the subject of scratch-building, so I’m going for exposed posts. For these I’ll be using 1mm styrene rod (anathema but necessary).

  After placing, drilling and inserting both sets of rails look like this:

  After a little touchup on the fantail the rails are done (even though the foredeck is still not permanently attached).

  I think it’s time to start putting all the pieces together, at least temporarily.

  Interior Layout

  When you think about what Mr. Bowes had in mind when he designed the ideal commuter yacht, and what JFK had in mind when he set sail on the ideal presidential yacht, and you combine those two congruent ideas with I had in mind when I set out to build a scale model of that yacht, you’d be hard-pressed not to consider the matter of water. Based on the ancient notion that anything that floats is, in fact, level, I ‘m going to start at the lowest point (the keel), and build up from there, leveling and squaring everything as I go.

  Well explore the subject of propellers in due time, but we’re going to need one. And the Lenore sailed on the Great Lakes, so any propeller (or rudder) that isn’t protected from large rocks has a very short and expensive life span. (I know this to be a truth that is learned through great pain.)

  So, we need a skeg, and since the sheer that I wound up with is less that that of the original, I’m creating clearance at the stern for a ½ inch propeller. So, I’ve made a template, then cut and fitted a full keel that adds about 1/8th of an inch to the existing keel and creates the skeg and clearance at the stern.

  Since that same curve extends throughout the keelson, I’ve done the same thing there, by using 1/16th basswood to create a waterline. I then glued a 1/16th square inboard to act as a rabbet that will support a level lower deck.

  This is a photo after those two additions:

  The scrap of pink cardstock is a testing tool, and anybody who is waiting for me to call it a deck instead of a flat can rejoice, because I’m going to call all decks.

  Since I’m building upward, I also have to address all the carefully-constructed bulkheads that I’ve torn out. To simplify the layout process, I’ve drawn a rough sketch of the bulkhead and deck layouts that probably existed before and after her 1960’s refit:

  The question marks are what I believe to be spaces that were converted from their original assignments (in parenthesis). The bulkhead locations are not exact since we have no way of knowing what, if any, changes were made to the size of the fuel tank, the lazarette, the galley and the engine room. The main deck layout is very close to actual.

  The question of companionways and headroom belowdecks is another mystery. It’s safe to say that the ladder (stairs) from the galley to the dining saloon stayed intact. But the hatch to the crew’s quarters, that ladder, and one set of cowl vents disappeared.

  To get a feeling for the dining saloon stairway, food service area and the ever-present White House phone, here’s a photo (probably taken in 1962 after the First Lady had the color TV installed in the living area):

  Note the floral arrangements- rare on any boat. This was not Eisenhower, whose First Lady (like many other women) preferred to wear bouquets on her head. Call it 1962.

  The aft doorways to the wheelhouse (bridge) were apparently replaced by port/starboard inboard entrances and steps. The open companionway leading to the upper deck was closed, and access to that deck appears to be by way of a port side doorway and ladder from the bridge. (At least that’s the only way that one photo of the bridge could have been taken, and it’s grainy, but that entrance shows up on a couple of long-range shots.)

  A doorway and ladder (probably to the engine room) were added to the starboard side of the bridge, probably connecting to the existing ladder that also served the forward stateroom. I sketched this as a dotted line (a maybe), but it makes sense.

  While the stack was stylized, it wasn’t yet relocated, but the mainmast was (later those two).

  This leaves the riddle of access to the two rear staterooms: the photographic evidence suggests light-duty elevators. I hesitate to use the term dumb waiters, but between the Navy and the Air Force, the Pentagon had a lot of experience with light-duty elevators. So, there you have the two skinny boxes in the Living area.

  The horizontal-dashed lines are my best guesses for stairways, and the cross-hatches are plausible doorways.

  Since both elevators, the upper deck door and all the other doorways and ladders were (or were approximated to be) on the port side and we’re building the starboard, you can add what you choose, but my choice is next to nothing in terms of access to the lower deck. It’s obvious in every photograph, by the way, that the only thing that never changed was that she was always boarded on her port side until she hit Palm Beach 50 years later. Have fun with the whole concept of posh (POSH).

  I’m using the original set of card stock templates and 1/32nd basswood to frame (full bulkhead) the galley, engine room and fuel tank. I’ll use partial bulkheads for the rest. The galley companionway started amidships and emerged to starboard, as in the photo, so I may add that later as a decorating touch, but for now there is no need for passageways or doors, since there were none on that (our) side after about 1955.

  This is also a good time to cut and fit the deck (flats) and ceiling (walls), Since I haven’t decided on the hawse holes, cat’s eye and anchor (if any), I’m reserving judgment on the forepeak.

  My initial thoughts on a fuel tank include the notion that the model should have one, so if the tank in the next photo looks a lot like the side of a sardine can, you can follow that lead or not.

  Nothing has been tacked or glued yet, but the pieces all seem to fit, so here is a photo of the belowdecks rough-in:

  The Engines

  With all the sub-assembly and set-aside work, you may be growing suspicious that sooner or later I’m going to sit down with a full cup of coffee, glue all the pieces and parts together and finish everything all at one. That may be a little harsh, but that’s exactly what I plan to do.

  The Engines

  Referring to our colleagues in the model train business, I can assure you that even the most knowledgeable member of that group (the owner of the local model train shop/hangout/test track) has never heard of a diesel engine that weighs less than the Empire State Building. And the Detroit Diesel/ Gray Marine 6-71 powered so much stuff from school buses to Alaskan trawlers that a web search is very much like entering the word “water”.

  So, armed with the remnants of a sardine can and the desire to build a credible 6-71, the next task is to install one in that big space amidships.

  This might be a good place to mention that I celebrated my 18th birthday aboard the USS Orion (AS-18). As a gift to myself I purchased a Harley Davidson XLKH motorcycle from a Navy pilot. This motorcycle had been taken on a Med cruise, and after his flight crew was done with the flathead engine, it had been bored, stroked, ported and relieved and God knows what all else. His reason for selling it to me was that his wife wouldn’t let him ride it anymore. (The whole story is more colorful than that.)

  I bring this up to point out that I gained a whole new appreciation for the mindset of carrier jocks over the next year or so. Bringing me back to the Honey Fitz.

  As you know, I’ve been wrestling with this LOA problem for quite some time. I’ve also been perplexed by photo comparisons of the Lenore under full power and the Honey Fitz showing off on the Potomac. The bow and prop wakes are just too different.

  By 1953, Detroit Diesel had the weight/SHP (shaft hp) ratio up to 2.1 (2.1 pounds of engine generating one hp). That’s decent by today’s standards, and by 1956 an aluminum version got that ratio close to 1:1. They also had the installed height of a slanted version down to 31 inches. But the horsepower remained fairly constant- 216.8, for the original and 430 for the pair- not too far from Winton’s numbers.

  Amidst all the internet noise I found this gem:

  In case you can’t make out the text too well, Ralph Evinrude’s yacht Chanticleer was built by the DeFoe Shipbuilding Company. Whether my earlier reference to the company name or GM’s is correct, she was a DeFoe.

  An important historical sidebar here: with a cocktail made from 1950’s drug store chemicals, Mr. Evinrude’s engines could be made to run at engine speeds that are probably illegal. I know this to be true.

  And OMC’s products were just as indestructible as Winton’s- my Johnson kicker would have run for another 20 years if it hadn’t been torn off during a hurricane.

  An old rule of thumb for outboard engine fuel consumption is gallons-per-hour= horsepower divided by 10. Today’s 2 cycle engines might get the divisor up to 15. Evinrude’s ratio, based on his (slow) cruise to Florida in 1956, is 30. GM’s advertised horsepower for that number is 800- my calculated number is closer to 850.

  Fuel economy aside, and with input from Navy carrier types, it wouldn’t take much to turn a staid presidential yacht into a presidential hot rod.

  JFK drove a PT boat. I’ve been a crewmember on one of those many times, and say what you will about modern go-fasts, there is nothing like that unique full-throttle ride. If nothing else you gain a ton of respect for the tolerances of marine plywood.

  Leading me to conclude a couple of things.

  First, the Commander In Chief could not resist being the Hotrodder In Chief. I am convinced that JFK did exactly what any sensible sailor would do- when he could, he took the helm and buried the throttles. And, key to the first, underneath him was a paired quad set of Detroit 6-71’s putting out over 850 SHP. Third, the Navy never got around to telling the Coast Guard how they had reinforced the stern to handle a surprising increase in thrust.

  Last, my missing 2 feet and wonderment at the size of the stern timbers will never be resolved. What will be resolved is that I’m installing a logical set of engines based on good hard speculation. (Historians and newscasters make a living out of almost-non-fiction, so normal people should be allowed to create a little bit of their own.)

  The likely configuration that we’re about to build I based on a reasonable guess. By 1957, GM was producing V- versions o the 71-series engine with horsepower in the 1800 range, and aluminum versions that lasted about as long as any aluminum engine.

  Our actual engine dimensions are 54” L x 29” W x 39”H, weighing in at 2,190 pounds. This works out to 16mm L x 8.5mm W x 11.4mm H. Even by our standards this is not a lot of space.

  There are many renderings on the web, but this one is pretty clear:

  If you discard the power takeoff (right side) and whatever that assembly is on the left, that’s the basic engine. The key elements that we’re going to include are the blower set (that large rectangle on the side), the coolant set (that large box upper right with the tubing) the rocker arm cover (top), and the fore and aft power takeoff assemblies with a crankshaft. Once those elements were in place, this engine could run merrily along for 50 years or so.

  We’ve lamented the shortcomings of wood more than once, and trying to make a wooden engine look like a metal engine will result in a wooden-looking engine. After experimenting with sardine cans, aluminum cookware and styrene, my choice is aluminum-clad wood.

 

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