CarPort

About three years ago at Hershey I came across a sight that stopped me in my tracks. What to my wondering eyes appeared was the strangest 1942 Dodge I’d ever seen. A placard on the vehicle suggested it was a prototype for a Dodge-based Town & Country, and proffered a hefty asking price.

We all know the Town & Country variations. They’ve been explained here before but it’s fun to do it again. In 1941, Chrysler introduced a handsome barrel-back woodie, well received and carried over into 1942. After the war, the wagon was gone but succeeded by a handsome six-cylinder sedan and eight-pot convertible. There were plans for others, a two-door Brougham, one built, a hardtop (made in quantity of seven) and a little three-passenger roadster that was never built. In recent years, at least one was created from a Windsor business coupe. The T&C soldiered on until 1950, by which time it came only in hardtop form with very little wood showing. Soon the name was retired to Chrysler’s all-steel station wagon.

But a Dodge T&C? Dodge, with DeSoto, was the least of the woodies. Unlike Plymouth, which had a wagon in 1946-7-8, except for truck-based wagons Dodge had a dearth of wood between the 1938 Westchester Suburban and the 1949 Coronet station wagon.

So really I think this creation was somebody’s idea of what a Dodge Clown & Country might look like. I’ve always considered the 1942 Dodges to be pretty cars, nicely proportioned and tastefully trimmed, especially in contrast to their postwar brethren. This car, however, is pretty crude, its lines dictated by the sheet metal that was grafted on. I don’t recognize the trunk lid, except for the 1946-48 Chrysler stop lamp. The roof looks quite familiar, one of the many twin-window 1937-39 sedans, but I can’t place it. Moreover, it was in pretty terrible shape, with sheet metal grafted over obvious holes in the body and hints of ominous trouble within. By Saturday it was on a trailer, headed back whence it came.

Anybody got any other ideas, or answers to this puzzle? Tell us what you think.

Michael Della Gala liked the item we did back in June 2006 about ambulance conversions by Guy Barnette and Co. of Memphis, Tennessee. In his home town of Utica, New York, the Masonic Home Hospital ordered a Chevrolet ambulance in 1951. A Chevy sedan delivery was duly shipped from Detroit to Memphis, where Barnette proceeded to stretch it some three and a half feet. The resulting ambulance served the hospital for 19 years, before being relegated to maintenance duty.

Michael’s friend Ron Gigliotti tried to buy it in 1966, to no avail. Ron wouldn’t be dissuaded, though. Every year he’d go back and ask again. Finally, in 1975, he got “yes” for an answer. Michael’s wife did her nurse’s training in Utica, part of it at Masonic Home Hospital when the Chevy ambulance was still in service. When Michael mused about buying it she didn’t discourage him. It seemed right that the ambulance should come home with them. Two gallons of gas, new spark plugs and a new battery got it running. A trailer transported it to their home in California.

Michael drove it as it was for a few years, then entrusted it to Athans Auto Body in Covina for restoration. They cut out all the rust and welded in new metal. The windows were difficult to remove intact, but many panes survived. It’s now beautifully restored, from grille to back door, even down to the tires and wheels. Inside there’s a new wood floor with a storage drawer on one side, and a folding attendant’s seat on the other. It looks good from any angle. It’s one of three Chevys to which Barnette gave the long stretch. Compare it to this Pontiac that our Professional Correspondent Gregg D. Merksamer snapped at Hershey a few years ago.

Thanks to Michael for providing his story and the pix to illustrate it.

Shortly after I posted last week’s CarPort about two-door station wagons, I became aware that the International Station Wagon Club was holding its national meet at the historic Publick House in Sturbridge, Massachusetts, not far from where I live. Coincidence or not, it seemed like an opportunity not to be missed, so I didn’t miss it.

The age of wagons stretched from brass Model T to some time last week, and class judging was arranged for Original Unrestored wagons, Original Restored (how can it be original if it’s been restored?), Modified and Returning Champions. There were woodie favorites like a 1940 Pontiac, a ’50 Buick Super and an exquisite 1933 Ford with a complete set of original tools. The faux wood brigade included a ’53 Country Squire, ’65 ditto, a pair of 1969 Chrysler Town and Country wagons and a seldom-seen 1966 Mercury Comet Villager. Next to the Comet was an equally noteworthy 1959 Plymouth Suburban and not far away a 1962 Corvair Lakewood. The ’64 Ford Fairlane was billed as a Custom Ranch Wagon, and was nostalgic to me for its 260 cid V8, just like the one in our old ’63 Falcon.

The only hardtop wagon was a ’57 Mercury four-door Commuter in drive-in theater trim. From Stratford, Connecticut came a ’64 Ford patrol car, and the ’59 Rambler reminded me of one my next-door neighbor used to have. A ’65 Rambler 660 basked in the champions’ circle, a bare-bones model with few accessories. American Motors, ever pragmatic, put its unused shift quadrant to good purpose The ISWC welcomes wagons to come as they are, good for this 1963 Dodge, and embraces such youngsters as a ’99 Mercury Sable, late model Buick Roadmaster and a Pontiac 6000. Apart from a 2000 Mercedes-Benz E320, the only import was a ’58 Hillman Estate Wagon (but, sadly, not a single Husky). Thankfully, people are starting to collect Plymouth Volares, particularly the Premier Edition.

Big wagons demand big engines, and there were many on hand. The ’57 Chrysler New Yorker had a hemi, of course, and there were both 427 and 454 Chevrolets, the latter having spells of incontinence. The largest Ford engine seemed to be a 352.

A theme meet calls for theme-appropriate accessories, and station wagons provide ideal places to display them. If there was a disappointment it was finding only three two-door wagons. A ’57 Pontiac Safari contrasted with Chevy’s ’57 Bel Air Handyman with the “conventional” tail, though the latter was a bit overdone for my taste. Steve Mierz took me to task last week for forgetting his wife Diane’s 1973 Pinto Squire,which made its CarPort debut last year. The ISWC show rubbed it in with a 1977 version of the same car. The Pontiac Safari is so well known that we forget that the name survived much longer on big four-door Ponchos.

Among the station wagon owners and spectators were rapaciously writing reporters, and furiously focusing photographers. You’ll probably see their coverage in the mainstream media. My favorite outfit was the 1969 Buick Sportwagon, which was hitched to a matching ’69 Shasta Loflyte camper. The weather was perfect and I was glad to see people preserving cars that are a bit out of the ordinary. As a parting exercise, consider this plaintive face. Tell us what you think it is.

Station wagons are as old as the hills. Billy Durant’s Star was the first to introduce one, and Ford the first to mass produce them, starting with the Model A. But until after World War II, with a very few exceptions like Bantam, all station wagons had four doors.

Credit Willys with two significant innovations in one vehicle: the two-door, all-steel station wagon of 1946. Crosley did too, starting in 1947, but it took the 1949 Plymouth Suburban to take the concept big time.

Ford Motor Company wasn’t ready for all-steel, but they did switch over to two-door wagons in 1949, both Ford and Mercury. FoMoCo’s steel shift came in 1952, but there was still a two-door, the Ranch Wagon, which endured through the fifties right up to 1960.

Plymouth, having pioneered the two-door wagon for the Big Three, kept it in the catalog until 1961, while Dodge didn’t have one until 1953 and kept it only to 1958 (nearly the same as this ’57). Chevrolet’s first debuted in 1955, and with it the glamorous Nomad, which led to a bevy of two doors, in 150, 210 and Bel Air trim. By 1956, Ford had its own Nomad fighter, the Fairline-trimmed Parklane and Plymouth, too, had fancier two-doors. Pontiac went the Chevy route with ’55 two-doors, but gave it up after 1957, having had their own Nomad lookalike, the Safari, for three seasons. Chevy’s last full-size two-door came in 1960, but after a three year hiatus there came a two-door wagon in the Chevelle line, through 1965 only. The same was true for Ford’s Falcon, which had two doors from intro in 1960 until 1965.

Mercury abandoned two-door wagons in 1952, but came back with a hardtop two-door for 1957, in both Commuter and Voyager trim. Both hardtop and two-door wagons lasted only through 1959.

Nash had a two-door wagon in the Rambler line through 1955, then brought it back as the Rambler American in 1959. The last Rambler two-door wagon was the 1963 American model. Studebaker’s first postwar wagon was a two-door, the 1954 Conestoga. The style lasted through 1956, after which it handed over to four-doors until the coming of the 1959 Lark, which reverted to two-doors only. The last two-door Studie wagon came in 1961. For whatever reasons, Chrysler, DeSoto, Lincoln, Cadillac, Buick, Oldsmobile and Packard never attempted a two-door wagon, and Hudson’s only postwar wagons were rebadged versions of the 1955 Rambler (Note this brochure illustration has no branding whatsoever, save for “R” on the wheelcovers).

So who kept the two-door wagon going the longest? Look back to that pioneer, Willys, who had a two door version of the Wagoneer in 1963 and kept it in production until 1968, then reincarnated it in 1974 as the Jeep Cherokee right up into the 1980s. By that time, though, Jeep was part of the sport utility movement that absorbed first the two-door wagons and eventually nearly all station wagons. Considering strictly “civilian” models, it looks like the 1965 Chevelle and Falcon were the last true American two-door station wagons. Have we missed any? And why do you think the two-door wagon took so long to emerge in the United States, and why did it fade in barely two decades? Tell us what you think.

It is not inapt to think of automotive concours as beauty pageants. Concours d’Elegance, after all, translates from the French as “elegance contest.” And since beauty is in the eye of the beholder one can expect all sorts of beauty, provocative and subtle, beguiling and bewitching. Such was the experience at the thirteenth annual Greenwich Concours d’Elegance held this past weekend in Connecticut.

Greenwich, benefiting the disaster relief organization Americares, is actually two shows in one. Concours d’Elegance for American antique and classic cars occupies Saturday, with Concours International for foreign-born automobiles following on Sunday. The oldest car on Saturday’s field was a tiny 1901 Crestmobile, but it wasn’t the smallest. That honor went to an electric Auto Red Bug Racer. Steam was represented by two Model K Stanleys, while Dick King’s 1910 touring model showed that Rambler was not always a compact car. Notable cars included a 1931 DeSoto SA, 1934 Pierce-Arrow 840A coupe, Kaiser Darrins in lemon and lime, and a Derham-customized Cadillac Eldorado Brougham. The muscular entries topped out with Dodge’s winged 1969 Daytona. Buick built America’s last wood-bodied wagon, the 1953 Roadmaster, one of which was on hand, and the white 1959 and 1960 Mercury Park Lane convertibles gave no hint that they’re sisters under the skin. Sibling to the Mercs, and less subtle, was this 1956 pink Linc.

Grand Marshal Don Peterson commentated at the awards drive-by, joined by Chief Judge Edward Herrmann, here presenting Best Combination of Car and Costume. Saturday’s Best of Show went to the 1929 Duesenberg Model J Derham Phaeton owned by Timothy Durham.

Sunday’s show used to be Concours Europa, but this year’s title “International” acknowledges elegant cars from beyond the Continent, like this Datsun 280ZX. Its contemporaries included a Citroën SM, Saabs conventional and sporty, and volumetric Volvos, the 122 at left owned by Automobile magazine bureau chief Jamie Kitman. There were no Amphicars, but those of a nautical bent were attracted to this aquatic Isetta combination and aficionados of Eastern Europe could check out this Tatra 603. France was represented by sedate Hotchkiss and quirky Georges Irat, as well as Malcolm Pray’s Figoni et Falaschi Delahaye, hardly phony but certainly flashy. Statesman of the Mercedes-Benz entries was an “Adenauer” 300b convertible. Amidst a gaggle of Porsche 356s hid a Dannenhauer & Strauss cabriolet and a Beutler-Porsche (you can look them up). English sports cars abounded, including Morgans with three and four wheels, a Lotus Elite, the rarely-seen Elva Courier and a twin-cam MGA owned by sports car savant Jonathan Stein. Best Jaguar was a svelte XK120 fixed-head coupe, and an original tobacco-coloured Triumph Stag won its class. A real rarity was a four-door Bristol. Lest you think that all Ferraris are red, Greenwich also had them in yellow and mustard.

There were a few cars with multicultural genes, including a Dual Ghia, Cunningham C3 and John Fitch’s prototype Phoenix, driven by the master himself. Sunday Best of Show honors went to Joseph and Margie Cassini’s Tipo 8A Isotta-Fraschini, presented by Concours founders and co-chairs Bruce and Genia Wennerstrom (seen here flanking the Cassinis).

Bonhams (1793) have taken over the auction concession, Christies, purveyor of recent Greenwich sales, having exited the motor car business. Choice lots included a ’54 Plymouth with rare “wood weave” trim (sold at $64,350), a 1934 Aston Martin sport saloon ($155,500), 1949 Austin Atlantic ($55,575) and the star of the sale, a long-dormant Type 57 Bugatti ($364,500).

Attendance was abundant, especially considering the hot, hot weather, mitigated to some extent by availability of vintage ice cream. Finally, a thunderstorm broke the hot spell and ended the prize-giving, Grand Marshal Peterson not missing a beat until the last drive-by had driven past. Credit is due to all who made the show a success, including hard-working judges and the Three Musketeers, Kent, Dennis and Nick, who don’t complete their behind-the-scenes work until Sunday’s sun sets.

She did on Sunday last, when hundreds of British cars descended on Waterford’s Harkness Park for the Connecticut MG Club’s 21st annual British Cars by the Sea meet. Not surprisingly, MGs ruled, mostly MGBs, in chrome and rubber trim. A good range of MGs attended, however, from TC to TD to TF, and MGAs in both roadster form and the svelte little fixed head coupe. There were modern Midgets, again in chrome and rubber, and several of the rare six-cylinder MGCs. Also represented were MG saloons, by the attractive ZA Magnette.

Star of the show was a barn-fresh Austin A30, the drive train of which gave rise to Donald Healey’s brilliant little Austin-Healey Sprite. There were “big Healeys” on hand, too, both the original Healey Hundred and the later 3000 models.

It was an all-British show, so the MG Club welcomed the competition: Triumphs, including TR3, TR4 and TR6 (no TR250s), four-cylinder TR7 and Rover-engined TR8 coupe. As the A30 was to the Sprite, so was Triumph’s Herald to the Spitfire, which in turn had a six-cylinder derivative in the GT6. A single Triumph saloon car attended, a 2000TC. For good measure there was a class for British bikes, whose sole occupant was a Triumph Trident.

There were Mini Coopers old and new, and Loti from Seven to Exige. A solitary Jensen-Healey showed up, as well as a Nash Metropolitan, another manifestation of the A30 drive train.

Early Jags were limited to an XK120, while several E-Types were seen kissing the sod. Saloon Jags ranged from XJ6 to the current S-Type. The only Morgan left by the time we arrived was a 4/4 4-seater.

Rovers made a good showing, with P4, P5, P6, P6B and SD1 saloons, and Land Rovers galore, including military versions and a 101 model all set for safari. Modern Landies were not forgotten, with a Discovery and a Range Rover holding court near the entrance.

The ambitious could buy an MG project, or a full race Ford Fiesta. I was pleased to see my friend Karl Hansen showing off his Carter invalid car, and to meet André Shay, who adopted some of my Roveriana some ten years ago. It was a grand day, even if there were no Humbers or Vauxhalls. Check it out next year, on the first Sunday of June.

Our town does its parading on Memorial Day – actually the Sunday before Memorial Day. The Fourth of July is generally celebrated with family picnics or parades in other towns. Some 30 years ago, America’s automakers did a disservice to the nation by discontinuing the production of convertibles, ever useful for parading lovelies and luminaries. For years the only convertible in our parades was a well-used 1967 Plymouth. Happily all that has changed. It’s the 21st Century and convertibles are back.

Our memorial observances this year began with singing of the Star Spangled Banner, followed by raising the flag – then lowering it to half mast. The Silver Cornet Band played “God Bless America” and then the parade stepped off. The High School Band furnished mellow marching tunes, and Grand Marshal Chelsea Bateman, a winning essayist, was chauffeured in a red ’58 Chevy Impala. There were no fewer than three fife and drum corps, one from as far away as Moodus. Boy Scouts from Troop 12, of which my son Edward is an Eagle alumnus, represented our side of town and our two fire departments had their best equipment in line. New this year was an emergency unit from the Salvation Army.

Convertibles there were aplenty, most carrying bevies of beauties. Interestingly, most were imports: Saab and BMW, but Mustang and Chrysler showed the flag for our home country. Jeep can be considered a convertible, and we had two, counting the sailors and Barbie. We always have a few antique cars, this year represented by a Model A Ford and a ’55 Ford Victoria. For some reason, the lone ’62 Chevy had its top up and no dignitaries aboard. A sweet ’41 Ford coupe showed just a hint of rodding, a trait more prominent in the ’38 Chevy behind it.

Memorial Day, of course, remembers our soldiers, and we had a pair of HMMWVs representing active duty and a convoy of historic military vehicles, from World War II WC Dodge to Korean era M37 to Deuce and a Half.

A parade is not a parade without floats. Sometimes they’re less than inspired, but this year in addition to the traditional patriotic themes we had an innovative flying machine and a float that really floats, complete with rowing hands.

But not all was mechanized. Bringing up the rear was a mounted division, with their own motorized detachment for emission control.

The summer I turned seven my parents bought their first house. It was old and run down, and among other things needed a new driveway. My father hired Foss Webb, owner of Webb’s Trucking, to deliver some gravel.

Mr. Webb had two Ford dump trucks, of the type at the top of this page. Knowing I was fascinated with cars and trucks and machinery of all kinds, he invited me to ride along on one of his many trips to the gravel bank. When I asked the year of the trucks, he told me the one in which I was riding was a 1945, the other a 1942. This surprised me on two counts, because I hadn’t realized that the style had been introduced before the war, nor that Ford built trucks in 1945, which I knew was a war year.

My friend Jim Wagner, Ford truck guru and author of the definitive book Ford Trucks Since 1905, explains that the new style, with high front fenders and “waterfall” grille but retaining cab of the 1940-41 type, was introduced for 1942. Headlamps, which were fender mounted in 1940-41, were faired into the “catwalk” area next to the grille, in contrast to Dodge, which still had bug-eyed lights, and Chevy, GMC and Studebaker, who only partially faired them. The only American light truck manufacturer, aside from Ford, offering fully-faired lights was International. Cab-over-engine Fords retained the 1938 cab and 1941 nose.

Although production of civilian cars and trucks halted early in 1942, trucks for the military services were delivered right through 1943 and into ’44, by which time a few civilian deliveries were again authorized by the government. In the spring of 1945, civilian truck production resumed in earnest and the 31 millionth Ford, a pickup, was completed on May 3rd. The style remained in production until replaced by the new F-series trucks in January 1948.

One thing that intrigued me about Mr. Webb’s trucks was that while his 1945 dump truck was the very common Village Green with Tacoma Cream trim the ’42 was painted in a reverse combination, tan cab with dark green trim. I have since wondered if this was a pre-war offering, as I’ve never seen another. Jim Wagner says that while ’42 Ford trucks were offered in seven passenger car colors, tan was not among them. By 1945, trucks colors were Niles Blue-Green, Fathom Blue, Moselle Maroon, Village Green and Newcastle Gray. At various times, Vermilion Red and other passenger car colors were offered, but after October 1946 Village Green was made standard. Throughout this period, however, special fleet paint jobs, like this Railway Express truck, were common. That explained why most Ford trucks of that era I had seen were green. It also suggests that Mr. Webb’s “reverse” painted 1942 dump truck had either been supplied as part of a special fleet order or repainted by a subsequent owner.

There are plenty of “waterfall” Fords around, though some are in pretty precarious condition. They remain some of my favorite trucks, especially in Village Green. The sound of a V8 climbing a hill in an intermediate gear is music to my ears.

Over at the Hemmings Blog, one of the more inspired forms of journalism to emanate from southern Vermont, they’ve been obsessing of late about the fate of abandoned AMC dealerships. You may think this is the ultimate fetish on a famous forgotten marque, but it’s an important part of an underappreciated sub-culture, automotive archeology, the industrial and commercial remnants of our favorite industry.

The blog has featured numerous sightings of ex-AM stores by readers and staffers, and the call has gone out for further examples from a lengthy list compiled by Eddie Stakes. Our area has its own AMC history, more convoluted than most and thus an apt topic for intensive CarPort investigative reporting.

Our American Motors dealer in the 1950s and ’60s was C&S Motors in New London, Connecticut. Operated by Constantine Patterson and Sam Ptashew, C&S had been in operation at 128 Huntington Street since at least the 1940s, and when I first knew it still had a Nash wrecker that all the local enthusiasts tried to buy at one time or other – to no avail. In the 1970s, Constantine and Sam sold out to the Falvey family.

The Falveys had a service and used car business on Ocean Avenue. A bit earlier than their buyout of C&S they had acquired the Golart Motor Company, a Renault-Peugeot dealer formerly of Ledyard Street, and moved it to their Ocean Avenue location. After the C&S takeover they continued to sell AMCs and Jeeps at Huntington Street, but eventually moved that business, too, over to Ocean.

The odd thing was that across town there was another Jeep dealer, Linder Motors, which also sold Dodge (and Simca!). This was decades before the AMC-Chrysler hookup, and for years I puzzled over how it came about. One day while browsing through some old New London City Directories I found the answer. In 1955, Linder Motors was the Kaiser-Jeep dealer. When Kaiser ceased to build cars, they took over the Dodge franchise of Schaller Motors, formerly of 155 Montauk Avenue, and kept Kaiser’s Jeep line. Falvey’s Car Sales sold AMC-Jeep-Renault-Peugeot on the south end of the city, and Linder did fine with Dodges and Jeeps at the north. After 1987, Renault petered out in the US, and since there were already Chrysler-Plymouth and Dodge stores in New London, Falvey’s concentrated on Jeeps and Peugeots.

Fast forward to 2008. The Linders are still selling Dodges and Jeeps on Broad Street in a 1926 building originally a service location for the Southern New England Telephone Company. The Falvey dealership on Ocean Avenue is now devoted to Chrysler-Jeep, since the former Chrysler dealer has defected to Kia. The C&S location at the corner of Huntington and Federal Streets is still in the car business but selling low-end used iron. The Ledyard Street lot is also still in play, with slightly more prestigious pre-owned imports. The building at 155 Montauk, later a Lincoln-Mercury-Triumph store, now houses medical offices.

The only historic sign I found on my archeological tour was the Peugeot standard that still hangs over Falveys, though they haven’t sold a new one in 15 years. The Rambler Used Car sign that heads this item is from my own collection, where it keeps company with my long-slumbering Rambler convertible.

As April turns to May, apple blossoms follow forsythia and it’s time to mow the lawn. When I was growing up, lawn mowers were made of cast iron and had to be pushed. When I was seven, my parents bought an old house whose lawn had grown to hay. Instead of a real lawn mower Dad bought a Simplicity garden tractor, complete with cultivator, snow plow, weed cutter, cordwood saw and, most important, sickle bar. Until our wilderness was tamed that sickle bar was our only mower.

Eventually it was supplanted by a succession of rotary mowers, all of which had to be followed on foot. I longed for a riding machine, like my cousin’s Tiger tractor, the Beaver that cut the lawn at my school, or one of the ubiquitous Bolens tractors in town. The big estates had Locke gang mowers, which I coveted, though when I got a job at one I was relegated to a Jacobsen professional machine, which I still had to walk behind. I remember Dad telling me about the Coldwell mower, which was water cooled, but I never saw one.

With a home of my own, I, too, acquired a series of cheap rotary mowers. At one point we experimented with a Flymo, the British hovercraft mower, but it was electric and prone to cut its own cord. Finally we bought a Lawn Boy, at what seemed like an astronomical price. With the grass catcher it does a nice job, but after nearly 25 years is wearing out. Parts are expensive, if you can find them, and the equivalent model today costs nearly $700. To be sure, we have a riding mower, too, a generic Wal-Martian, but I prefer the Lawn Boy in the garden and orchards, where the big machine is hard to maneuver. It’s best suited to the back forty. So is the Gravely, which I seldom use for mowing. I still have the Simplicity tractor and sickle bar, but have never had grass tall enough to use them.

So how do we replace the Lawn Boy..? We’re going electric without the cord. I’ll let you know how it works out.