Chuck Schultz is a licensed engineer, Gear Technology Technical Editor, and Chief Engineer for Beyta Gear Service. He has written the "Gear Talk with Chuck" blog for Gear Technology since 2014.
In 1971, the American gear business was far different from today. I am unaware of any modern company with a formal gear cutter’s apprenticeship; at Falk, that was just one of thirty-one apprenticeships on offer. I was a drafting apprentice — perhaps the lowest rung on the training ladder. We were the “nerds” of the apprentice department in those pre-computer days and often got sent in to do odd jobs in various places around the massive facility. As the nerdiest of the group, I was delegated to audit purchase orders, pour beer at the retirees’ picnic, deliver documents around town, assist with advertising photo shoots, and take executives’ cars to be washed. Eventually I learned my way around the plant and served as a tour guide.
Falk took gears very seriously in those days. The gear cutters were the top of the pecking order. You could not become a gear cutter’s apprentice until you had completed a four-year machinist’s apprenticeship. An additional three years were needed before you became a journeyman gear cutter capable of setting up and running any gear machine in the shop. This is a far cry from today’s CNC world, but the machines and processes were much less operator-friendly. A slight error in hob sharpening could reduce gear quality from a Q9 to a Q6; the gear cutters were expected to make every gear a great gear. It was a good idea to keep me — the world’s worst machinist — far away from such delicate adjustments.
Actually, very few people really understood gears. The company had invested heavily in a mainframe computer, and a small group of engineers and programmers maintained the software that rated the components in our products. A slightly larger group was allowed to submit punched cards to the computer department as input into the programs. Looking back, it had a Wizard of Oz aspect to it that fascinated this particular nerd. I asked lots of questions everywhere I was assigned and eventually got to be one of the people punching those IBM cards. It was a wonderful place to “grow up” in the gear trade, perhaps the last place in America where you could see a gear made completely. Scrap metal was melted in an open hearth furnace, poured into a mold formed by a pattern made on site, machined by skilled craftsmen who had attempted to train you, and assembled into a gearbox you made detail drawings for. A few times I even got to help with the assembly!
I’m not sure if the opportunities came my way because of or in spite of my constant questions, but to this day I remain very grateful to all the people who made it possible for me to start my career with such a broad foundation.