Horses' Heavenmaker: Schooner Days CXLI (141)

Some Curious Background Bits for an Old American Bottom That Now Flies the Canadian Flag

THE .J. I. CASE, still afloat and under the Canadian flag, had squaresail yard 105 feet long.

That bald statement may mean nothing to the landsman who never heard of the J. I. Case, wouldn't know a squaresail when he saw one and always thought a yard was either 36 inches or a place to keep chickens.

But to the sailor it is a staggerer. Forty years ago it would be a noble subject of debate in every waterfront tavern.

Let us condescend to explain that a yard is a round stick crossing the mast of a vessel, from which a sail is spread. Squaresail yards could be cockbilled, or topped up diagonally, so that their ends or yardarm did not project so much beyond the vessel when she was in port. The J.I. Case's yard is cockbilled in this picture of her unloading coal in Racine. The squaresail was a four-sided piece of canvas spread by the yard and of use when running with the wind free.

A squaresail of 50-foot length was the average for the "Old Canallers," which crowded the Welland's locks. The Lyman M. Davis has one, clumsily cockbilled as she lies at Sunnyside. She was not of the "old canal size," but smaller vessels sometimes had longer yards than the big fellows. The Azov had a squaresail yard 67 feet in length and that was the very last thing seen of her when she rolled over and sank off Point aux Barques. The yard, braced square, stood up like a mast as she disappeared.

But none of them could touch the J. I. Case for length of yard or grace of line. She was generally agreed - and disputed - to be the most heavily sparred vessel on the lakes, and sailors used to get 25 cents a day bonus for handling her gear. The F. A. Georger and the Charles Foster were both very lofty, and as the Foster was 20 feet longer than the Case she may have been sparred even more heavily; but there are no figures to prove it.

Even in the large ships on salt water any yard that exceeded 90 feet in length was considered remarkable. The longest of which I have a record is the Grand Republic's mainyard, before she was burnt. That was 120 feet.

And how did the J. I. Case get her name?

When we were boys every farmhouse had a mortgage, a family Bible, and a Horse Book. Every Horse Book had a rich-hued lithographed plate of a brown trotter with streaming mane and tail being driven by a stern gent, crowned by a peaked cap, and enthroned in a sulky that was going so fast the iron-tired wheels were mere ellipses bounding the blue blur of the invisible wooden spokes. The hubs stood out like islands in the ocean. Underneath was the inscription, in large block letters, "JAY EYE SEE, 2.10."

Jay Eye See broke the world's trotting record at Providence in 1884, by doing a mile in 10 seconds over two minutes. That's nothing in these days of pneumatic-tired ball-bearing sulkies and fast tracks, but old-timers will tell you that 50 years ago "two-forty" was still smart slang for high speed. So two-ten was something like a Malcolm Campbell record.

Jay Eye See was named after the initials of that great horse lover, J. I. Case, and the schooner was named after the same man, long before Jay Eye See was foaled. Mr. Case began life as a poor boy like all of us males, but he differed from some of us in having a father who could set him up with a horse-power threshing machine outfit when he was 16. With this young Case travelled the Middle West. He saw the needs of agriculture and blossomed forth as a manufacturer - the J. I. Case Threshing Machine Company—at Racine, Wis.; made a pot of money, headed several banks and insurance companies, and owned the Glenview stock farm near Louisville, Kentucky, where famous trotters and racers, were bred. Jay Eye See's human godparent died 1891, seven years after he made his 2.10 record; but J. I. Case's love of horses went marching on.

"All the Cases were horse lovers, and J. I. was the lovingest one of all," was the best obituary ever written of him. It was because he loved his horses that he prospered with his horse-power threshing outfit, and the steam-power outfits with which he replaced it.

The J. I. C. plant and yards at Racine where he built up his built up his fortune employed two hundred work horses, and they lived the life of Riley. Each was a pet. Brother Roy, who worked there, says the plant was a work-horse heaven. Gasoline and electricity may have displaced the original horse-power but for years after J. I. Case drove through the pearly gates at 2 flat— without being sacrilegious, he assuredly merited that honor—the tradition of kind treatment of horses in the plant was observed as though it were an official provision of the articles of the J. I. Case incorporation, devised by J. I. C. himself.

All the horses were carefully fed and looked after by the company veterinaries. All were fat and sleek as seals, and teamsters and barn-men had to keep them scrupulously clean. None worked very hard. No whips were permitted. No swearing or shouting at horses. The barn boss used a wide soft strap to enforce discipline. It smacked loudly, but didn't hurt. He claimed that he could accomplish more with his smacks than anyone could by whipping.

Jumbo, a big brown gelding, was said to weigh "a ton and ten pounds." He always worked "single" and grew old in the Case service and was pensioned to a farm in Wisconsin, where he loafed all the time and was well fed,exercised and cared for.

Legend has it that Jumbo moved 100,000 threshing machines during his years of active service. His job was largely the moving of machines around the huge warehouses or on the loading platforms after teams of horses had hauled them up the ramps. He was a very strong and very slow animal. Never was scared in his life, and apparently knew more about shifting the heavy machines around than the men who worked with him.

Silver was a roan gelding, 1,500 pounds. A mixture of glossy white hairs in his blue coat gave him the appearance of being made of solid silver. His mane, forelock and tail were very heavy. There was a basket rigged with a counterpoise in his stall to hold his tail when he chose to use it, and he took more or less delight in switching his huge tail into the basket and allowing the counterpoise to take care of its weight.

He was an extremely temperamental animal. (Would have been a chronic balker if anyone but the Cases had owned him.) He would not work with other horses. Had to have a specially made tow cart with wire wheels. Wouldn't start if even one strap tongue were out of its keeper. Hated anything dangling around him. Sometimes wouldn't work at all. Was never whipped in his life. Always wore bar-plate shoes and apparently liked to be re-shod or to have his hoofs attended to, because he frequently quit work and visited the blacksmith shop of his own accord.

Case teamsters took great pride in their horses. Decorated their harnesses with celluloid rings and tassels. Spent a lot of time grooming them and polishing harness. One fat old-timer who drove a team of black mares used 320 decorative rings and 150 colored "keepers" on his harness.

J. I. Case was as great a figure in his time and place as Henry Ford a generation later. So it was not to be wondered at that Col. Richard West, who bred Jay Eye See, named his horse for him; or that when the pride of Wisconsin and the west was launched at Manitowoc in 1874 she was called after him.

With lamentable literalness it was simply "J. I. Case of Manitowoc" that appeared on her stern, not even the playful "Jay Eye See" or anything half so imaginative, Americans did not initiate the dull habit of naming vessels, as it were, out of the telephone directory. It was already the custom in the 18th century to name vessels after men - sometimes but not often, using the sponsor's first name as well as his surname. It appears to have been well on into the nineteenth before the practice of using a man's names and initials was instituted . Americans seemed to have a particular weakness for that, and the seas swarmed with T. Splashington Slutterfusses and the like.

All of which is wandering from the J. I. Case, after reaching her by the roundabout road of the long squaresail yard.

The J. I. Case was one of the dozen most beautiful wooden vessels ever built on the lakes. As Captain McCannel, who kindly lent the reproduced photograph, said when he first saw her in Racine: "She seemed too lovely a thing to be carrying coal." His first acquaintance with her was one snowy morning late in the fall, when eighteen inches of snow had come down and the fleet were clearing decks preparatory to unloading. There was a whole lot of deck on the J. I. Case to shovel, for she was half as long as a city block and half as wide as a city street. Her great length may be guessed at from the picture, which shows ten fenders protecting her sides. Ordinary schooners found five plenty.

She was 207 feet 8 inches on deck, 34 feet 6 inches beam, 14 feet 6 inches deep in the hold and registered 814 tons. It may be noted m the picture that she required ten fenders along her side. Five were sufficient for the average canaller. She had seven chainplates for the fore-rigging, six for the main and four for the mizzen; one more, in each instance, than was usual. She had also, as may be seen, double channels over these chainplates. She is, or was until very recently, still afloat as a tow-barge, sixty years after launching, her lofty, schooner spars all gone. She was transferred to Canadian registry and as late as 1931 was towing on the St. Lawrence river as one of the Sincennes-McNaughton fleet.

Good old Jay Eye See.

Good old J. I. C.

Good old ship.

The J.I. Case in her palmy days, unloading at Racine, Wis.

"JAY EYE SEE"