Old Machine That Could Snap Your Arm Off
May 6, 2025
Source: Reddit
Alright, so I wasn’t actively seeking it.
I was simply meandering down a corridor in St. Pete, Florida as part of my wander with no plan thing when this galleria came into view. You know the kind: indie art, upcycled furniture, perhaps a macrame plant hanger or three. But out front? Not the usual artsy stuff. Nope. There, on a bed of white gravel, under the baking sun like some prehistoric beast, was this vast hunk of metal with jaws. Literal jaws.
I blinked. Took a few steps closer. It was like a mechanical alligator emerging from an abandoned steel mill and deciding to retire in Florida.
It had giant iron wheels, colossus bolts, a jawline that could chew through a car door. I didn’t know what it was at the time, but I had to find out.
Introducing Our Alligator Shear No. 2
Some Googling later, it turned out to be a No. 2 Alligator Shear, built by the Canton Foundry and Machine Co. in Ohio. And a patent was filed on the whole idea — in, get this, 1914.
That’s right. This beast is more than a hundred years old. And it’s just sitting outside a gallery like it’s totally whatever.
These things were cutting right through metal like it was butter. They weren’t delicate and they didn’t whisper. These things roared, clanked, snapped and — voilà! — They were the job, and they did the job. Primarily used in foundries and scrapyards, they’d chew up steel rods, angle iron and anything else you dared to throw at them.
Honestly, the moniker “Alligator Shear” could not be more fitting. Seeing it in action (dug up a vintage video online — super grainy, super cool), that jaw just descends with brutal, mechanical grace. You certainly wouldn’t want your hand to come anywhere near it.
So … Why Is This Thing Just Sitting There?
Great question. I assume it’s there as industrial art at this point.” (Ironically, that last part is pretty great.)
Some people have abstract paintings on their walls. Others drop a colossal turn-of-the-century metal shear on their front lawn like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And honestly? Respect.
And it’s not often one finds genuine bits of history out here in the wild. Typically, they’re locked away in a dusty warehouse or half-forgotten in a scrapyard. This one? It’s being presented front and center — sun-bleached, bolts rusted, still standing tall.
I love that. It’s a throwback to a different age, back when machines were noisy, dangerous, and just plain awesome.
Let’s Talk About the Brains of the Beast
This model — the No. 2, as it turns out — is the brainchild of a guy named Joseph W. Barba. He got a patent on it in 1914 (yep I found the actual patent). His design made the shear more efficient, stronger and safer … well, safer-ish by the standards of 1914.
Consider: World War I was just starting. Henry Ford was still refining the Model T. And this monster was out there chewing through metal like a hot knife through steel.
The patent specifics are sort of nerdy, but interesting. It discusses enhancing the “lever action” and providing more stability to the jaw to help counterract normal wear and tear. Sure, Barba knew what he was doing. And Canton Foundry was no fly-by-night operation — they were turning out serious equipment for serious work.
Why This Old Thing Still Matters
I know, I know. It’s “just” a rusty machine. But here’s the catch — machines like the Alligator Shear No. 2 made stuff. They built railroad tracks, bridges; recycled scrap into things necessary during wartime.
They were central to the backbone of American industry. Before computers and safety sensors. Before all of that got shrink-wrapped and sterile.”
There is something raw and real about that. Something real.
Seeing it in person? It gave me chills. Made me think of all the hands that had worked it, the sparks it had thrown, the steel it had chewed into.
Final reflections of a Random Walk
So yeah, when I left my house that day, I certainly wasn’t expecting to have that moment with a 100-year-old shear. But I’m glad I did.
Now when I walk by that gallery, I pause and nod to the old girl. She’s earned it.
Oh, and the next time you come across some strange hunk of iron on display, walk up to it! It may have had a job once. It might have built something big.