Wilkinson travels country to share an American tradition

By PAULA BARR
Daily Journal Staff Writer

Sunday, October 18, 2009 8:06 AM CDT

FARMINGTON — With an ear shattering and chest piercing boom, 100 pounds of solid steel soared straight up 100 feet into the sky, leaving behind clouds of white smoke that rolled across the field.

Gay Wilkinson grinned and waited for the inevitable thud as one of his forged anvils returned to earth.

"Did you hear it ring?" he asked.

Shooting anvils is one of Wilkinson's favorite things to do. He frequently demonstrates the old-time communications method at Rendezvous and other events.

One might even say anvils have taken over the former Farmington mayor's life. Anvils from as far back as the 1700s are lined up along the back of a long bench in his workshop and smaller ones are scattered throughout the garage. Glass anvils, hand-carved wooden anvils and some made from soap fill a curio cabinet in his living room. He made most of them. One year, he made a total of 500 model anvils from a variety of materials.

“I wake up some mornings, and I just feel like making anvils,” he explained with a smile.

A black Styrofoam anvil on the roof makes it look as though Wilkinson's aim was off and a real anvil crashed into the house where he and his wife, “Cookie,” live. There are large versions of traditional style anvils in the backyard and one that resembles a three-foot high cone.

But Wilkinson's most treasured anvil appears to be a 432-pound forged steel specimen that he wants to use as his grave marker.

Anvils are the tools blacksmiths use to pound metal into shape. The anvil itself is forged and pounded into shape to last hundreds of years. No two are exactly alike, Wilkinson said. Because they are just tools, people did not make a point to keep records or write about anvils through the years, he added.

Wilkinson began his hobby in 1983 after he heard Ed Trokey and a friend talking about “ringing the anvil.”

He asked the man what that phrase meant and it ignited a fascination with the blacksmith’s tool that grew the more he learned.

Where one person might see a heavy lump of steel with one pointed end and one squared off end, Wilkinson sees a base, body, throat, waist, face, shoulder, horn and heel.

Numbers across the side of an anvil tell him how much it weighs in “stones” and he can convert that to pounds.

He can tell by looking if the anvil was made in the United States or Europe, how it was made, and in what century it was created. He can also tell if it will “fly” well.

Shooting anvils is a centuries old tradition, according to “Anvils in America” by Richard A. Postman. The tradition is thought to have developed from an ancient ceremony honoring St. Clement, who is one of the patron saints of blacksmiths. Clement lived in the 1st century, before gunpowder was invented, according to Postman.

By the 1800s, towns that did not have a cannon or church bells often shot anvils as an early warning system about an emergency, to announce a gathering or to celebrate holidays such as Fourth of July or Christmas. Justices of the Peace would “forge” marriages with an anvil shoot, Davy Crockett’s friends celebrated his election to Congress by shooting an anvil, and telephone service to Deadwood, South Dakota was acknowledged by a 39-anvil salute.

To shoot an anvil, two of the same size are needed. One is turned upside down on the ground, and the bottom cavity is filled with gunpowder. The shooter puts a second anvil right side up on the bottom anvil so the cavities match up. After putting a fuse between the anvils, and applying a sealant to keep the two anvils stuck together, the shooter lights a fuse and steps back to watch the anvils blow apart.

Wilkinson uses peanut better to seal the anvils together and to ensure that the force of the exploding gases from the black powder pushes upward instead of escaping sideways. He looks for a level piece of ground to place the anvils so the top one will return from the air close to the bottom one.

The explosion is as loud as a cannon, and can be heard up to 15 miles away. Fans of the hobby like to stand close enough to hear the anvil ring as it flies through the air without being so close they are in danger of being hit as the anvil falls back down.

Wilkinson bought his first anvil in 1995 from an 89-year-old man who showed him a video of the process. The man gave Wilkinson, who then was mayor of Farmington, some advice.

“He had such an unbelievable way of looking at things,” Wilkinson said. “He told me, ‘Don’t cheapen it by just showing it. Tell them about blacksmiths’ roles in our country and how the anvil is like our freedom.’”

Two weeks later the man died.

“It was like he handed it off to someone who cared as much about it, then he died,” Wilkinson mused.

Soon after, Wilkinson found another anvil and headed to a large farm in Moberly for his maiden attempt at shooting an anvil. Looking back, he stood dangerously close to the display and felt the concussion.

“The anvil takes off really fast and goes straight up until gravity takes over,” he said. “Then it comes straight down and most of the time, it sinks into the ground so far you have to pull it out with chains and a truck.”

Wilkinson travels all over to shoot anvils, sometimes shooting two or three per day. He competed for six years in the World Champion Anvil Shooting Championship in Mississippi, a U.S. competition to which everyone is welcome.

He won his competition in 2000 with a shot that reached 224 feet in height. Points are added for each foot the anvil travels upward, and three points are taken away for each foot away from the bottom anvil to the point where the top anvil lands.

There are two types of competition at the World Championship event. One is the traditional method that Wilkinson uses, where the flying anvil is 100 pounds and only one pound of black powder may be used. The other involves a modified cannon barrel base with several pounds of black powder that sends the anvil nearly 500 feet into the air.

“There are a lot of factors that affect how high the anvil goes, including how solid the ground is, the base plate you shoot off, the day’s temperature and humidity,” Wilkinson said. “The prize is a little trophy with a brass anvil on it. We don’t do this for money or trophies, we do it for fun.”

Paula Barr is a reporter for the Daily Journal and can be reached at 573-431-2010, ext. 172 or at pbarr@dailyjournalonline.com.

 

Archives Web Site Marketplace Obits Babies Jobs