JULY • 2008 • NEWSLETTER

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Dear $$firstname$$,

What do you remember most about long summer days? The ice cream man motoring his musical truck around the neighborhood? Swinging on a tire over the old swimmin’ hole? Fun times at the drive-in restaurant, complete with carhops?

Our collection of hot summer memories in this month’s newsletter include a live-bait business with a modified Ford, a recollection of vacation motor trips and the travails of making homemade root beer.

If you’ve been enjoying our monthly dose of bonus nostalgia, consider forwarding this newsletter to a friend or family member. If this newsletter was forwarded to you and you’d like a monthly copy of your own, just use this link to sign up yourself. For now, welcome to the lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer.

—The Folks at Reminisce

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In this issue:

• They Might Have Had the First Ranchero
• On the Road to the Great North Woods
• Depression-Era Boy Yearned for a Bike
• Old Glory Starred in 1940s Parade
• “Pop” Goes the Root Beer
• Poem: An Old Rocking Chair
• Over the Back Fence
• Time Capsule Trivia
• A Thought to Remember

They Might Have Had the First Ranchero

Illustrated by Roger Goettsch View large image

By Roger A. Goettsch
Moorhead, Minnesota

My Dad and Uncle Harvey knew where the bait was for their live-bait business of the early 1950s—in nearby creeks all across Minnesota’s Clay County. What they didn’t have was a way to haul it to the resort on Storm Lake about 20 to 30 miles away.

In the late 1940s and early '50s, pickups in any condition were at a premium and even old ones were kept running. If I remember correctly, they were a lot more expensive than a comparable car. Of course, neither Dad nor Uncle Harvey had any extra cash to start with.

Dad’s friend had a junkyard but even he didn’t have a “fixer-upper” pickup. He did have a ’37 Ford coupe that ran pretty well, and it could be had for 50 bucks, some repair skills and a lot of imagination. The two business partners bought it.

The guys decided that if the trunk lid were removed and the top cut off right behind the doors, there would be room to build a bed to haul bait tanks. With the sloping back window of the coupe removed, it would get a little breezy and a little damp on rainy days.

A drill, some sheet metal screws and a small sliding window from a trailer house completed the actual bodywork on the Ford (I do believe there was some tar work, too).

We were recyclers to the max back then, and Uncle Harvey had a stack of maple flooring from, I believe, a water-soaked school floor. I seem to recall the box and tailgate made from that maple looked pretty sharp on the back of the Ford.

I remember reading in a magazine about the early evolution of Ford’s Ranchero, made from a ’53 or ’54, and Chevrolet’s El Camino, modified from a cutoff ’53 Chevy. I guess we were before our time, as we created the first Ranchero.

They decided that an oval cattle tank and two oak barrels would be enough to keep the chubs and minnows alive for the trip and be large enough to hold enough bait to make it profitable.

The problem was Uncle Harvey had no electricity or a windmill; water was supplied by a hand pump. Can you guess how many strokes it took to fill those tanks? I’m sure we never wanted to get discouraged enough to actually count them.

We used Uncle Harvey’s farm as a base for the live-bait operation, as he had a holding pen in a creek. The operation required us kids to tote 5-gallon buckets of bait and water across pastures and under or over barbed wire. I still think my right arm is a bit longer than the other, and I know cow pies.

For our hot, sweaty work, we might be treated to a bottle of 5-cent pop and/or a nickel candy bar. Back then, a nickel was a lot of money for a kid.

The first time we loaded all the tanks in the back of the Ford, everything looked fine until the vehicle started forward. It was then that the rear end sunk so far down that the bumper was dragging.

The obvious solution was that the rear springs would have to be beefed up. This involved a trip to the blacksmith to make a beefed-up set of springs. After installing those, it was time to reinstall the springs and fill the tanks again.

We must have been in the bait business 4 or 5 years. In fact, we had our own sideline—live night crawlers, caught with the aid of quick hands and a flashlight. I don’t remember this sideline as being too successful. I only remember my sore back from being bent over for hours to catch them.

Somewhere toward the end of the business, the Ford’s engine finally gave up and a much bigger V-8 was put in, probably from a crashed Lincoln. Even when fully loaded, that pickup had a lot of get-up-and-go; especially on those hot summer days when the water got too warm and speed was the only thing between profit and none at all.

Our ’37 Ford “Ranchero” ended its days in Uncle Harvey’s grove along with an assortment of other auto bodies that would make the hot-rod generation plan a retrieval strategy. I wouldn’t mind being able to have a choice at one of them myself!

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On the Road to the Great North Woods

View large image A picnic lunch is set out for author Jim Dohren and his sister, Pat, at a wayside park in Wisconsin or Minnesota, in 1958.

View large image Pictured, from left, at a motel, in Spooner, Wisconsin, are author Jim, Dave, Pat and Les Dohren. “Notice how low our ’55 Oldsmobile is sitting, and that’s without the five Dohrens’ weight added,” says Jim.

By Jim Dohren
Downers Grove, Illinois

When I was a boy, Dad and Mom joked that if things didn’t work out at home, Dad could always take off for a cabin in the “Great North Woods.”

As much as my imagination made those three words grow into a manly and mythical destination, the reality of the Great North Woods brought family vacations filled with anticipation and fun in a series of resorts in Wisconsin, Minnesota and even Canada.

No matter the destination, the intense preparation began building weeks in advance of our departure from our home, in Aurora, Illinois. Anyone who knew my mom well would never accuse her of being a light packer, for she left nothing to chance.

We brought enough stuff to fill the entire trunk, backseat floor and an overstuffed car-top carrier. Somewhere in there, Dad managed to shoehorn all of our fishing gear and his trusty, 5-horsepower Johnson Seahorse outboard motor.

Surprisingly, my sister, Patsy, my brother, Dave, and I still found room to move about, read or nap. Mom would be at the ready to diffuse our quarreling with a series of games and small prizes.

Expenses were kept to a minimum by eating a predawn breakfast at home to reach our destination in one day. Lunch was always eaten out of our ice chest at one of those pleasant roadside parks of yesteryear. This stop had an added benefit for our parents. We kids got a chance to run off some of the pent-up energy built up on that long journey, when we’d make 400 miles in a mere 12 hours!

As we got older, we kids got the rare and exciting treat of staying in motels in towns like Spooner, Wisconsin or Duluth, Minnesota.

At the end of a very long day or two, we came to our cabin in the woods. The dirt road into the resort and the smell of the pine forest welcomed us to our 2-week adventure.

I’m sure the quality of the cabin left a lot to be desired by my homemaker mother, but back then, I never noticed. After all, this was the Great North Woods.

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Depression-Era Boy Yearned for a Bike

By Don Kesinger
Littleton, Colorado

I grew up during the 1930s, in the middle of the dust bowl, and it was a time of poverty and hardship.

I was also crippled until I was 9 years old. I couldn’t straighten one leg, sometimes neither leg. I longingly watched the other kids playing softball at recess while I was over talking to the janitor.

Fortunately, I grew out of this affliction and immediately started a conditioning program so I could become an athlete. Somehow I decided what I needed was a bicycle to build up the strength in my legs.

I got up the courage to ask my dad to get me one, even though I already figured what the answer would be. He said, “Well, you better start saving your money.” I couldn’t blame him. Our family of five had been living on $9 per month and also had a garden, some chickens and a cow to help us get by.

In a couple of years, I managed to save $3.65, and I thought it was time to shop for a used bicycle. The Sears Roebuck catalog had new ones listed for $47, complete with a horn button, lights and front shocks. Wow!

My dad and I went to a store over in the next county. There were a few used bikes there. One was $12, one was $9 and the cheapest one was $5. My heart sank. It would probably take me 2 more years to make the rest of the money I needed.

My dad and I just stood there with the salesman. Finally, Dad said to the dealer, “Let’s look in the back room.” They went off for a short time, and when they came back, the salesman lowered the price of the cheapest one to $3.65. The brakes were bad, the clutch sometimes slipped, the handlebars were beat up and scratched and the bike was smeared with black paint. But it was a Schwinn, and it was beautiful. I don’t know what my dad said to that salesman, but I was forever grateful.

World War II had just started, so I could still get parts. I fixed up the bike and learned to ride it. I started riding it to school, which was 6-1/2 miles round-trip on mud and dirt roads.

By the time I was 13, I was the fastest rider in my school. When I reached high school, I became a starter in football, basketball and track. I went on to play 2 years of sports in junior college.

I am still riding bikes and, probably because of it, have remained athletic and healthy to this day. Oh, and my job? I’m a designer of bicycle components.

Old Glory Starred in a 1940s Parade

View large image

By Janet Collins
Union City, Indiana

I found this old photo in a box of odds and ends at an estate auction. I have no idea where it is from or what year it was taken. It is apparently a parade around the time of World War II.

It looks patriotic enough for a Fourth of July parade, but some people are wearing light jackets. The car and the people’s attire date to sometime in the 1940s. In the background is a 5- and 10-cent store, the sign appearing to be from an F.W. Woolworth.

In using a magnifying glass, the lettering on the side of the float says “Frigidaire Division, General Motors Corporation.”

Some people are hanging out of windows watching the parade go by. Perhaps someone out there remembers this particular float or scene.

Editors’ Note: Anyone recognizing the scene may write to us at Reminisce, 5927 Memory Lane, Greendale WI 53129-1404, or send us an E-mail at editors@reminisce.com. We’ll publish responses in the next Reminisce newsletter.

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“Pop” Goes the Root Beer

By Patricia Doolittle
Aptos, California

When we lived in Rosemead, California, our next-door neighbors, the Reeds, were close friends with my mom and dad. They were so close that I even affectionately called Mrs. Reed “Aunt Marian.”

One summer, in 1943 or ’44, when I was 8 or 9 years old, Mom and Aunt Marian decided to brew up a batch of root beer. Aunt Marian had gotten hold of a recipe from the Hires company, well known for its root beer. All weekend, they mixed, cooked and bottled their first brew.

The finished product seemed to taste bitter to me, and it certainly didn’t taste at all like Hires. Seeing as it was the 1940s and wartime, I’m sure Aunt Marian was probably sparing the rationed sugar.

The concoction did pass the all-important “fizz” test, according to Mom and Aunt Marian, so they stored the capped bottles on the Reeds’ porch, which was the coolest place available for such a large number of bottles.

Apparently, the porch wasn’t cool enough, because a few days later, after a particularly warm afternoon, a series of pops and bangs could be heard coming from the Reeds’ home. Shortly after that, we heard squealing from Aunt Marian and loud laughter from her husband, Ralph, and their son Billy.

Mom and I rushed next door and were waved off by a tearful Aunt Marian. She yelled out, “Stand back! We don’t know if they’ve all blown yet!”

One by one, the bottles were blowing their lids and spewing the sticky contents all over the walls and floor.

After the explosions subsided, the two women surveyed the unexpected outcome of their hard work in silence and dismay, until they glanced at one another and started to giggle…then laugh…louder and louder.

By this time, several neighbors had assembled out front and joined in their laughter. One neighbor said, “Oh, Marian, you’re gonna have ants till kingdom come!”

It was a mess of colossal proportions that required days of Aunt Marion’s and Mom’s time to clean up.

Though it’s a fond memory of a simpler time past, I do believe that was the last homemade root beer I ever had.

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An Old Rocking Chair

This poem is shared by James Bass of Overton, Texas. It was sent to him by his 93-year-old mother, Opie Bottom, who lives in Ardmore, Alabama. James doesn’t know if it’s a poem his mother wrote or just picked up somewhere.

Sitting alone in an old rocking chair,
An aged old mother with silver-gray hair.
Her hands are all withered and callous and old.
Hard work and worry were the story they told.

Bless her dear heart tho' she never complained,
Knowing life’s sorrows, she would live it again.
She seems so content as I see her there,
Rocking alone in an old rocking chair.

It wouldn’t take much to gladden her heart,
A card or letter on somebody’s part.
She seems so neglected by those who should care,
Rocking alone in an old rocking chair.

Over the Back Fence

Seeing a photo of a scooter in an issue of Reminisce reminded me of the day my 5-year-old granddaughter and I bought a small metal scooter at a garage sale.

When we got home, I told my granddaughter to tell her mother what we’d bought. She said, “Grammy bought me a scooter, and I don’t even know how to scoot!”

—Jeanet McCue
Fort Wayne, Indiana

Time Capsule Trivia

From the decades spanning the 1920s to the 1960s, try to guess what year these historic events took place. The answer is given below, but no peeking!

1. The Beatles celebrate their first hit record on the United States charts, I Want to Hold Your Hand.
2. Frank Sinatra Jr. is kidnapped in Nevada but released unhurt after his famous father pays a $240,000 ransom. The FBI quickly arrests three suspects and recovers most of the money.
3. Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds has moviegoers looking to the skies anxiously after leaving the theater.
4. Pitcher Sandy Koufax of the Los Angeles Dodgers throws a National-League-high 306 strikeouts in the regular season and then strikes out 15 Yankees in the first game of the World Series, which the Dodgers sweep.
5. The CBS Friday night lineup of Route 66, The Twilight Zone and The Alfred Hitchcock Hour continues to lead other networks in the ratings.

For the answer to Time Capsule Trivia, click here.

A Thought to Remember

Most people who wake up famous haven’t been asleep.

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