April 6, 1946
(first posted 7/2/2018) I’ve been debating this essay for a while, but now seems as good a time as any. With my grandmother Violet (referred to previously as Iris) having passed away in February, and my grandfather “Albert” no longer driving, their automotive story has wound down.
For perspective, my grandfather was born in March 1924; my grandmother in February 1927.
While you will notice a distinct commonality in most of their vehicles, there are also a few relative outliers. So let’s get started.
Ford Model A, year unknown
Uncle Sam knew how much every outgoing soldier had earned during their stint in the military and he was making darn sure what they were taking home didn’t exceed that amount. Gambling and other fun, related activities could quickly grow that amount. During Grandpa’s dismissal in St. Louis, there was a line where every serviceman had to present how much cash they had.
Figuring it up quickly, Grandpa knew he was in a bind. He’d discovered the fringes of the black market in Europe and cigarettes had proven to be lucrative.
It seems at that time a person could get a carton of cigarettes for $5 and a pack for $0.50 (he’s quoted those prices for over 20 years); he sold each pack to some poor soul in Axis territory for $5. In turn, he’d discovered each carton was the right size and weight to contain a chunk of 2×4 pine board. The refilled and resealed carton got sold for $50, but only at a train station and only when the train was starting to move. That way a person would be in the clear and could reap the rewards of witnessing their customer making the discovery.
As Grandpa told me recently, “when Adolf wasn’t (screwing) those poor Germans, we sure were.”
All this relates to his having too much money. Knowing his limit, and what he had, he turned to the soldier behind him who was nearly broke. Handing the broke soldier his overage, then giving a cut on the other side of the line, Grandpa left the service with $1,400 in his pocket. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, that is comparable to $19,142 in 2018.
That gave him enough to pay $400 for a house, furniture for said house, a 0.22 rifle, get married, and have something to live off for a while. It’s just sometime between April 1946, when he and Grandma got married, and February 1947 when my mother was born (on Grandma’s twentieth birthday) a Ford Model A entered the picture.
I know nothing about the Model A. In fact, when I spent the night with them returning from the 2016 CC Meetup in Nashville, I asked about their Model A. A debate ensued about what body style it was.
She was saying coupe; he was saying two-door.
Annoyed, she said “how the hell do you get a rumble seat on a two-door?”. Being contrary, he said “what makes you think it had a rumble seat?”
So their first car was a Ford Model A. Beyond that your guess is as good as mine, although I suspect it had a rumble seat.
My mother (left) at age 8 and her sister Connie at 5 in 1955
1953 Chevrolet Two-Ten
Was there a car between the Model A and this? I rather doubt there was. Here’s why…
They purchased another house (for $2,900) around 1948 or 1949; their first house was on the banks of the Mississippi River. Grandma woke up one morning and got out of bed to find herself knee-deep in water due to the river having risen overnight. From all accounts – primarily hers – she grabbed my mother and told Grandpa she was not setting foot in that house again.
So the subsequent purchase of a house on dry ground, along with my Aunt Connie being born in 1950, likely precluded any car purchase until this one.
My great-grandmother Pauline, my grandmother Violet’s mother
Part of what prompted the purchase of this 1953 Chevrolet were my great-grandparents. They lived in Houston, Texas, and were within 90 minutes of my grandparents’ house when they were involved in a nearly fatal head-on collision in their Studebaker pickup (seen here); the other party was two gentlemen in a Buick who both perished. My great-grandparents convalesced with my grandparents for nine months before being capable of heading back home.
Sent to family in Texas to prove that not everything is bigger down there. My grandmother borrowed this styrofoam prop from Dairy Queen.
The Two-Ten was needed to haul them to various doctor’s appointments, which reinforces my theory about this car succeeding the Model A. All I know is this Chevrolet was a two-door and it had an automatic transmission.
My grandmother at 30
1957 Chevrolet Bel-Air
This Chevrolet was a milestone for my grandparents in many ways. In addition to being both their first V8 and four-door, it was also the car in which they taught my mother to drive and the car in which they brought home their youngest, my uncle who was born in 1958.
My grandfather still talks about this Bel-Air and his fondness for it is evident, even bragging about having purchased it off the showroom floor. From his description of the car having an automatic, that meant it possessed a 283 as the 265 had been relegated to manual transmissions only for 1957. He also talks about its passing power, which makes me suspicious it had a four-barrel carburetor.
With their mutual fondness of the car, the number of recollections of this ’57 are more than anything else they owned – as are pictures of it. However, it could simply be the timeframe given their three children were all at home and the eleven year spread in their ages made this window rather small.
Yes, I’m using a picture of my grandmother in a swimsuit. At 30, she wasn’t yet a grandmother.
One of their favorite mutual stories involved their annual trip to visit my grandmother’s family near Houston. While alluded to here, my grandfather drove to and from Texas like his butt was on fire. My mother still talks about how the only stops were for fuel and you better use the bathroom then because there were no other stops. Except once.
With my uncle being the youngest, my grandmother was more experienced in children’s behavior by that point. She said paying close attention meant never changing a dirty diaper after the time he was about three or four months old. She’d simply take him to the bathroom once he got a little fussy and the problems worked themselves out.
During a trip to Texas, most likely in 1959, my grandmother noticed my uncle squirming and grunting while sitting on her lap (remember, nobody used child seats back then). She told Grandpa to stop alongside the road. Grandpa didn’t care to as, in his words, “I’d finally passed all the drag-asses and was starting to make good time.”
My grandmother countered that he could either stop or he could smell it. So as grandpa once said “I had to stop so Ron could crap. Then I had to pass everybody again.”
My mother at 10; her sister Connie at 7
There’s nothing quite as memorable as family road trips.
The Bel-Air went away in 1964. My mother had had a mild confab with a ditch which prompted my grandparents to no longer trust this Chevrolet. My grandfather was an acquaintance of the new owner and soon learned the Bel-Air had been stolen by a couple of teens. The joyriders were going too fast for conditions when they lost control and hit a tree, killing both of them.
1964 Chevrolet Bel-Air
My father once remarked about this ’64 Chevrolet’s austereness by saying he’d seen more luxurious telephone booths. Thinking about this, I’ve developed a theory.
The ’57 had been purchased sometime after my grandparents paid off their second house. A move to their third, and final, house in 1961 likely prompted the plainer car.
Regardless, their 1964 Bel-Air was white with the 230 six-cylinder and a Powerglide transmission. My father, who drove the car on numerous occasions, said it was uncomfortable and painfully slow. Considering he had purchased a new 1962 Ford Falcon with the 144 six-cylinder, that’s quite the statement.
Oddly, not much is ever said about this Bel-Air. On that, I also have a theory.
In 1966, my Aunt Connie became quite ill with a condition that would ultimately be fatal. There were many trips to medical facilities in St. Louis, so this Bel-Air likely had a lot of miles put on it, all associated with Connie’s illness. Nobody likes to talk about unpleasantries or anything associated with them, which this car would have been.
Of the bunch, this has always been the forgotten car. Such happens with all of us.
1938 Ford truck
I know nothing about this truck other than what my father has told me. He and my mother started dating in late 1964 and this was the vehicle my grandfather drove to work. Having to park where there was a lot of dust, he didn’t like driving a “good” vehicle.
My father said seeing this parked in the driveway alongside the ’64 Bel-Air was quite the contrast.
1970 Chevrolet Impala
This was the first car of my grandparents that I can remember, as I came along when the car was two years old. Powered by a 350, it was green inside and out. Somewhere along the way, I was told it had been a demonstrator by the dealer.
My grandmother once told an acquaintance who had stopped by their house a story that involved this Impala. While the story should have surprised me, for some reason it didn’t. While this quote isn’t verbatim, it’s certainly in keeping with how she told stories. It’s one of those sitting-on-the-patio-on-a-warm-summer-night stories, told by a 60 year old woman.
“I was out shopping in Cape one day and had started back home. I found a few pairs of shoes and some slacks that were on sale at Buckner-Ragsdale’s. Driving down South Kingshighway, I saw some kids were weaving around cars behind me, honking their horn and being real smart-alecks.
“I got stopped at William Street. Those kids came up beside me and just kept honking their horn. I turned to look at them and they gave me the finger! That wasn’t very nice. I would imagine their mothers wouldn’t be very happy with their behavior.
“When the light turned green, I honked at them. When they looked my way, I gave them the finger right back. I was in that green Chevrolet, I figured I could outrun them if I needed to.”
That was my grandmother.
Me with the Impala in the background.
Another time, when I was about three, I accompanied her and my mother somewhere. Not wanting to ride in my parent’s 1973 Ford Torino that day (probably because I had already done so), I threw a fit as I wanted to ride in the ’70 Impala. My grandmother, a quick thinker for the ages, calmly told me her Impala was broken down because one of my grandfather’s hunting dogs had wet on the tire.
Naive me, I bought that story. Even forty-odd years later, I still think of that story after seeing where an animal has wet on a car tire. What sticks with a person is hard to explain.
The Impala stuck around until 1977 when it developed a noise in the transmission. Seven years had always been about how long they kept a car anyway, so off it went.
1972 Chevrolet pickup
Perhaps there was another pickup between the ancient old ’38 Ford and this one, but I rather doubt there was. My mom and her sister had been out of the house since 1968, so things were looking better for another new vehicle.
I’ve always had a soft spot for these Chevrolet pickups, thinking these are the best looking ones ever. The one my grandfather purchased was red inside and out; by this time he was less concerned about exposing his pickup to the blowing dust where he worked as improvements in parking conditions had been made.
His pickup had an automatic but I’m not sure what engine. He said he almost sold it soon after purchase due to getting a ridiculously reliable seven miles per gallon. His trip to work was ten to twelve miles of highway, so it wasn’t like it was all short trips in town. Taking it back to the dealer, no doubt accompanied by a few pointed observations, the fuel mileage suddenly got a lot better.
Grandpa said he intended to treat this pickup with kid gloves but that lasted about two days. He said he had worked a double shift the first time he drove it to work and was bone tired when he left to head home. He discovered somebody had filled the bed full of small rock, making the load perfectly level with the bed rails. His trip home never exceeded 25 miles per hour as he was concerned about the tires blowing out. He jacked up the rear end to take some weight off the suspension before going in the house and heading to bed.
It seems the rock worked really well to fill in a few soft spots in the driveway, so it wasn’t for naught.
As a very small child, I loved this pickup. It had a friendly face and it was fun to ride in.
1977 Chevrolet Impala
By swapping off the 1970 Impala, my grandparents took a decided step backwards by purchasing a new ’77 Impala. This car was a real turkey.
Of all their cars, I rode in this one the most. The one thing I remember about it was the sound it made taking off from a stop and shifting into second gear. It was a melodic whirring sound that I’ve never heard fully replicated anywhere else. I can hear it while sitting here typing this.
The car was brown with a tan steel roof. While nothing visually spectacular, I’ve never seen a duplicate of it. The interior was a tan cloth and it was moderately equipped. Perhaps most unusual, and something I didn’t know for quite a while, was this Impala was powered by the 250 straight-six. My Uncle “Ron” told me he had trouble coaxing it past 80 mph.
I rode in this car to Houston and Cut & Shoot, Texas, in 1984.
So how was it a turkey? For starters, my grandmother, the primary driver, wasn’t happy with how it never tracked straight despite repeated trips to the dealer. The paint quickly oxidized and nothing could revive it. There were a few other build issues such as the trunk that doubled as a cistern. This car proved my grandfather’s theory about how one should never purchase the first year of any car. This scenario would repeat itself.
This vehicle propelled them away from General Motors. It’s also a reason why I have stunted enthusiasm for the 1977 and up GM B-bodies.
My sister and cousin in 1986; the Scottsdale is in the background. The Mercury belonged to my great-aunt Mary and the red ’84 Buick LeSabre belonged to my Uncle “Ron”
1979 Chevrolet Scottsdale
My grandfather bought this pickup shortly before he retired; he recently quipped about drawing a pension for 38 years after working for 32. Equipped with a 305, automatic transmission, tilt steering, and air conditioning, this was a fairly nice, moderately trimmed pickup for the times.
Like his ’72 Chevrolet, his attempts to treat it with kid gloves were quickly squashed. Driving through his brother-in-law’s yard to load something now forgotten, he encountered some soft ground. Goosing the throttle to maintain his momentum, the rear-end fishtailed and the right rear of the pickup slapped a decorative steel wagon wheel. Those creases stayed there until the end.
This was the pickup I used to haul furniture four hours to my college apartment in 1992 where I discovered the 305 to be deceptively potent. While merging onto I-44 I was in a tight jam and nailed the throttle on that Chevrolet. Once past the crisis, I was delightfully shocked to see the speedometer was pushing it’s registered top speed of 100 mph.
In November of that year, on Thanksgiving Day, the pickup died 14 times (I counted it since I witnessed it) upon being started cold and put in gear. Within a week that pickup was cast aside for a new one; it was later sold to my uncle.
1985 Dodge Aries LE
How do you follow up a crappy 1977 Impala? You jump onto the Lido Ship! Other than an initial water problem in the trunk identical to their last Impala (which was fixed quickly on the Aries after my grandmother verbally pounded the service manager), this Aries was a well-built car that served them well.
However, it was much smaller than anything they had recently experienced. And, in a grievous sin, the air conditioning would cut out any time the engine was under excessive load. Given some of the hills near their house, this meant the a/c was cutting out just enough to royally aggravate them.
It was also the a/c that may have been the final straw for the Aries, but it was nothing due to build quality. My grandmother’s oldest sister Wanda and her husband Bob came to visit from Houston. They were heavy smokers, with Bob once telling my grandfather they smoked twenty cartons (that’s 4,000 cigarettes) per month between the two of them. My grandparents mistakenly let Bob and Wanda smoke in the car and the smokey menthol scent was present nearly a year later whenever the a/c was turned on.
The Aries stuck around for three years. I suspect the cigarette smoke, along with my former smoker grandfather having become heavily anti-cigarette, was a prime factor.
The Aries was subsequently purchased from the dealer by my grandfather’s former brother-in-law, Otto, and his wife Ethel. Ethel soon returned the Aries to the dealer, saying it had no power. Ethel’s previous car was a 1971 Pontiac LeMans coupe.
From www.cardomain.com; theirs was identical to this
1988 Dodge Dynasty
Only about three times in my life have I seen that certain look on my grandfather’s face. One of those was when fifteen year old me innocently told him the 3.0 V6 in his new Dynasty had been built by Mitsubishi.
He apparently got over it rather quickly as they drove the Dynasty more than they did the Aries. This Dynasty was also more their thing in terms of interior size. It suited them quite well.
The downfall of this car was the air conditioning. Having learned the behavior of the a/c in the Aries, whenever a hill was approaching my grandfather would reach over and turn the a/c off despite the Dynasty having much less need to self-regulate. Then, he’d turn it back on. The switch was treated like a faucet until suddenly the a/c quit working.
They had worn the switch out. Then, rather than pay to replace the switch, they decided having a/c wasn’t necessary as they had not had it in many previous vehicles. A summer trip to see ill family in Texas finally convinced them to replace the switch.
1992 Buick Roadmaster
In what must have been a rare moment of weakness, they traded the Dynasty for a slightly used first-year Roadmaster in November 1992.
Problems arose soon enough but suffice it to say this Buick required two engines, three transmissions, and five torque convertors during their ownership. This Buick was a supremely comfortable, and frighteningly quiet, pile. I will give it credit for something; the engine only turned about 1,100 rpm at 70 mph and this allowed them to get nearly 30 mpg on a trip from Scott City, Missouri, to Houston.
For a 5.7 liter Buick that was no small accomplishment. They did keep this car longer than typical, with it being their first car to accumulate 100,000 miles. Despite the problems, they liked the car.
This Buick also provided the largest cognitive dissonance I had experienced up to that point. In 1997, when my sister graduated college, I drove this Roadmaster to a celebration and then promptly drove a Mazda Miata that belonged to a friend of my father. Let’s just say there was little in common.
1992 Ford F-150 XLT
At this time, there were only three full-sized pickup manufacturers in the U.S. When a person has ruled one out (GM) and found a second to have a product whose lineage dates back to 1972 (Dodge), you buy a Ford.
Grandpa bought this new, leftover F-150 about ten days after he bought the Buick. The family rumor mill was thick for a while as “Albert” had bought two new vehicles within ten days! How can he do that? Easy. He got mad and wrote a check.
This pickup has been a good one and it’s still around. Since Grandpa never treated it with kid gloves like his prior two pickups, the body remained unblemished. Other than fuel pump that crapped out after twenty years, this pickup was flawless.
Grandpa gave it to my Uncle “Ron” last fall. I wrote it up here.
2001 or 2002 Lincoln Town Car
This replaced the Buick and there is little I can say as I never rode in it. It went away after a relatively short time due to a water leak.
The water leak cannot be laid at Ford’s feet as my grandparents never had a garage. Where they parked was near a maple tree and, by this time, the maple tree had branched out to providing a canopy over the Lincoln.
As washing a car was no longer a top priority for a couple pushing their 80s, maple leaves accumulated around the cowl of the Lincoln with some plugging drain holes in the firewall. Some rain followed by a few freeze-thaw cycles ensured a ruptured drain hole that allowed water to infiltrate onto the passenger side floor.
Upon a spell of dry weather my grandfather went car shopping. Part of me has always wondered if this car wound up being a taxi in St. Louis.
A representative example pulled from the web
2007 Chevrolet Equinox
My grandparents were early adopters of CUVs, having purchased one of the first Equinii available. This rig was ideal for a couple now in their early to mid-80s. It saw them through to the end of their driving days.
This past spring my mother and uncle sold the silver Equinox to a consignment dealer as they didn’t want the hassle of placing an ad and farting around with tire kickers. It had just over 60,000 miles.
These were the vehicles owned by my grandparents. GM is overly represented and any loyalty to them was obviously questioned and had grown quite weak over time. Chrysler was appreciated although it had a minor quirk that made itself known. Ford was there at the beginning and at the end. All known problems with these vehicles, with those since 1975 being within my memory, were highlighted.
This has been a tough synopsis to write, but it was one that needed to be told.
One correction: That 53 Chevy is a 54. 53’s had large, round turn signal lights.
Hmm…the plot thickens! I have always been told it was a ’53 and didn’t even bother to verify!
Thanks!
It’s a ’54 Two-Ten sedan. I owned a ’54 BelAir back in 1975.
The ’53 is homely by comparison with its grill extensions that look – to me, anyway – like they should’ve come around the side to the fender opening but stopped before the bend.
The ’53 taillight was fussier looking than the ’54.
That said, I enjoyed this write up. Thanks for sharing!
And rear lights were also smaller and round. ’54s have taller rear lights split horizontally for back ups in the lower portion (if so equipped)
Thinking about this further…I have another picture I didn’t scan showing a piece of their Chevrolet and it’s dated Easter 1953.
Perhaps the car shown with the ice cream cone wasn’t theirs at all. It’s not like. A Chevrolet was uncommon.
There is something about those few minor changes done to the ’54 that makes it completely better looking than the ’53. The difference is almost night and day.
Back in my adolescence, when I was dreaming of that first car, I always had a desire for a ’54 BelAir hardtop way more than getting a ’55 or ’56. Well, you can always drop a 265 in it, the mounting points were the same. Something about the ’54’s I considered equally attractive to the two follow up years, and way better looking than the ’57 – plus it would have been different at the drive-in.
Thanks for a touching article, and sincere condolences for your grandmother. Your grandparents sound like quite a couple.
It’s always warming to read a family story. As a car fan, I can read it through transportation, as you do.
If you are as sensitive or nostalgic as I am, this was hard to write indeed!
Congrats on your piece, which has made easier waiting for my wife and daughter to come out of a gigantic clothing sale due to storage fire….I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here. Prayers appreciated!
A heart warming, often hilarious, enjoyable tribute to your Grandparents, their lives and personalities.
I had tears leaking out the corner of my eyes several times.
Those family stories are one of my favourite topics in Curbside Classic because it connects the vehicles to the people who actually use them. Their real life experiences and perspectives really bring out the best (or worst) in the vehicles.
Much different from reading the test drives or driving impressions done by the journalists.
Really wonderful stories, Jason! Thanks for taking time to write the article and post it here.
Thank you for a wonderful story. Your grandparents were contemporaries of my mother and father, who were both born in 1923. Like your grandfather my dad served in the European theater during WWII, but nothing in our family tradition mentions him coming home with any large sum of money. I suspect he was just happy enough to be home as his unit had been moved intact from Europe to a base on the west coast to train for the invasion of Japan; in any case the war ended without the invasion and he was home well before Christmas.
My father viewed cars purely as transportation devices, something to get him back and forth to work, go the store, etc. He would buy a used car (one of the low priced three of course) and then drive it until it died. The only car I can remember not staying around very long was a 1950 Ford that was in the family for barely a year. It was replaced with a Plymouth that was the first car he owned with an automatic transmission; I suspect that my mother was tired of shifting gears and that was that. As far as I can remember the only new vehicle my father ever purchased was a Dodge pickup bought shortly before he retired in 1985. He still owned the truck when he died in 2000 although he didn’t drive it very much in his last few years.
That is a lot of cars.
I don’t believe I could do a full history on my grandparents. I’m not sure memories and photos exist from before the late ’60s.
My grandparents would have been simple. They never learned to drive. They never owned a car. And, they never learned to speak English. Slovak to English was dad’s assignment.
Jim, if it helps any, I’d never seen some of these pictures until I acquired them in early July. Plus, I also spent a lot of time with my maternal grandparents while growing up allowing me to capture these stories.
Re: Model A purchased in 1946. My guess is that this was about all they could find. Cars were in very short supply for a few years after WWII. I think it amazing that they kept it running until 1953 (or 1954).
Sure enjoyed the history. Thanks
I know that gear-whir sound! My folks’ ’78 Caprice made it, too; it was very evident but not alarming; “melodious” is a good word. I am fairly sure that car had a Turbo Hydramatic 350 behind its 305 engine, rather than the papier-mâché TH200; I test-drove a couple of ’77 Caprices with the TH200 and their first gear whine was much quieter and higher-pitched, just what I would expect with punier gears. The ’84 they replaced their ’78 with had one or another of the 4-speed automatics, either a 200R4 or a 700R4, and it lacked that first-gear whirring sound—I missed it. I was pleasantly shocked to hear that sound suddenly return to the roads sometime in the mid-late ’90s in Chev & GMC trucks and vans, presumably with heavier-than-basic-duty automatic transmissions. It’s not quite exactly the same as the ’78’s sound, but it’s very close.
I still prefer the first-gear whir of a pre-1980 Chrysler Torqueflite, though.
I was wishing I knew what sound was being described as I couldn’t recall any of the older b body’s that I rode in as a kid having made that sound. But I know the exact sound you describe of the later GM vans and trucks having. What I found funny was that that same sound returned in the 2009-2012 Chevy 3500 diesel Express can/chassis’s that my company used as ambulances. They had the GM transmissions but the same year 3500 Silverado truck cab/chassis we had used the Allison transmission and I’d didn’t make that whine. The Allison’s also lasted about 3-4 times longer than the GM transmissions!
Great timeline, Jason. Nice that you still have all these old photos. Grandfather on mom’s side had a ’62 Tempest 215 V8 that needed it’s coolent topped off often. It was replaced by a loaded and pampered ’65 Bonneville convertible, beige with white leather interior. He passed in 1972. Grandmother on Mom’s side was a ’68 Camaro convertible, 350 automatic, in light green with green interior. It had AC, PS, manual windows as I recall. She passed in 1974. Grandmother on dad’s side never drove. Grandfather on dad’s side passed around 1963, don’t remember if he drove, don’t remember any car associated with him.
Appreciate this tough to write story, it was a great read.
Thanks.
What I’m finding tougher than the cars is the disposal of their house. At 45, I’ve known that house forever. The upshot is it’s going to a young couple who love the house, the way it was built, and the property. So it’s about ideal in that regard.
I found a picture of grandfather in his ’65 Bonneville with the top down, the one time he actually lowered it!
When it was time to sell my parents house, some friends of mine (and my parents) bought it. They rented it when parents were no longer able to stay and were in assisted living, mom and dad wanted them to get the house after they passed. So I get to visit the house and my friends. They did a lot of remodeling and it looks great.
Interesting saga, nicely told.
Sadly, I wasn’t close enough to either set of grandparents to be able to list in detail what vehicles they owned.
I do recall that my paternal grandparents had at least 2 green late 50’s-early 60’s Ramblers. One of them was a station wagon.
And that’s about all.
A lovely story. Sorry for your loss.
I’ve been sitting on some old photographs of my maternal grandparents’ cars, too. I keep meaning to write about them, perhaps you’ve finally spurred me.
You really should go for it. This is information that if you don’t harness it now, it’ll be harder to do later on.
My grandfather has dumped the responsibility of getting the house and property sold onto my mother. I went down there in early July to help get furniture out of the house and disposed of. She and my father have been working on this for a long time and she kept all the pictures.
Going through them while down there, I asked about taking a few. Her response was “Take all you want; you’re just going to have to go through them again in 20 or 30 years anyway.”
Nicely done, Jason! This brings back a memory or two of my own.
As I grew up in the Southwest, and both sets of grandparents lived in Michigan, I don’t have quite as detailed a recollection of their cars. We only saw the grandparents every 2-3 years.
Neither of my grandmothers drove by the time I can reasonably recall. I only remember two of my paternal grandparents cars: Their second-to-last road trip to New Mexico was circa 1964 or 1965 at which time they had a 1960 Dodge Dart. My grandfather retired the following year after a long career with Continental Baking Co., in Detroit.
He and grandma retired to a small town in southeastern Michigan along with their shiny, new 1967 Olds Cutlass, equipped with a V-8 and an automatic transmission. The Olds made one trip out to NM and shortly thereafter my grandparents proclaimed they were, “just too old to travel.” (Interesting philosophy in that they were probably barely 60 at the time.) I remember riding in the car during our periodic visits.
The Olds was the last car they ever owned. When grandpa died in 1984, it had approximately 30K miles on it. From the belt line up, it still had most of the factory shine. Further down, however, it had been ravaged impressively by the tin worm. My dad and my uncle sold it to one of their cousins for a couple hundred bucks, this after convincing me that low miles notwithstanding, it was not worth hauling out to New Mexico to “fix up.” I was a little put out at the time, but 3+ decades later, it is clear they were absolutely right.
My maternal grandparents lived in Detroit and Dearborn. Grandpa bought a new car approximately every 3 years, as was the pattern for so many Detroit area folks of the time. My earliest recollection is of his 1965 or 1966 Chevy sedan. It was a copper-ish color, but I don’t remember anything else about it. It was followed by another Chevy, 1969 or 1970, that, if memory serves, had a vinyl top and power windows. I remember riding to the Henry Ford museum in it.
His next car was a fairly well-equipped Dart or Valiant, the only Chrysler product I remember him owning. It was an appropriate for the times brown, with a vinyl top….about as brougham-ish as one could make a Dart or Valiant.
The Mopar was replaced by the first of two Olds 88 coupes, in this case, white vinyl over dark blue. The blue one was replaced by a white vinyl over maroon model in the early 1980’s. This was grandpa’s last car. Once he decided he had no business driving (he was well into his 80’s by then) he sold the car to a neighbor, who drove it for many more years. As family stories go, he always had someone lined up to buy his cars because he took such good care of them. He kept the salt rinsed off and hit them with Pledge almost weekly.
Again, thanks for a great article.
Phenomenal post Jason! These personal stories really hit home for me and it’s one of my favourite parts of CC. I am amazed at some of the parallels your maternal grandparents story has with mine. Even there ages are almost exactly the same. You’re lucky to have such a detailed history of your grandparents past vehicles.
My maternal grandparents both served in the war. My Grandfather was with the RAF in England, while My Grandmother worked on a Canadian Forces Base back in Canada. Like your Grandparents, they married right after the war and started having kids. Although my Grandfather was handy, he was never much of a car person at all. I don’t know, much about what they owned, other than he had a preference for Plymouths in the 60’s and 70’s, and he owned an early 60’s Corvair which my mother learned to drive on. I remember him cursing the belt design on that car even years after it was gone. Later when my mom and dad had were dating, my Grandfather helped her out with her first new car purchase, and got her a monster 1973 Fury 2-door. He figured all that size would keep her safe.
For a long time my Grandparents didn’t own any cars while I was growing up, until they inherited an ’87 F-150 from my great uncle who had a stroke and was no longer able to drive. That lead to a bunch of car purchases, the last few, I actually helped them out. My Grandfather passed away some time ago, but my Grandmother is still alive. She gave up driving when she was in her mid 80’s, and I sold off her low mileage 1999 Taurus Wagon. Unfortunately, the car’s undercarriage was so rusted, the auto recycler was the only viable buyer.
My Grandmother is in her 90’s so I really should ask her more about the cars they drove over the years. Other than a few vague details, I don’t know much about the earlier years. The one car my Grandmother fondly speaks about is the 1934 Desoto Deluxe my Great Grandfather owned when she was growing up in Toronto. It was a car he was very proud of, and to this day she can still tell me all about what he’d do to store it during winter time. I can almost feel my Great Grandfather’s pride through her stories.
My paternal grandparents, on the other hand, were a fair bit older than my maternal grandparents. They both came from large farm families in Italy, they never learned to drive or owned a car, even after they emigrated from Italy to Canada. But they did help my dad with a few car purchases, in return for his transportation services.
Thank you!
My maternal grandfather never has been much of a car person despite his having owned all the vehicles outlined here. I think I stumbled upon part of the reason one day when he fussed about my mother’s desire to acquire antiques. He said “when the hell does you mom want all this old stuff – I grew up that kind of thing and it was rotten then; I sure don’t want it now!”.
He and my grandmother were delightfully frugal people and cars were their only real splurge. However, they lived several miles outside of town and this was their best way to ensure not walking and his getting to work.
There’s no way I could do a comprehensive story about my paternal grandfather as he bought and sold cars for years. He did have a ’29 Whippet for a short while and later used a chopping ax to scrap a nice ’39 Packard.
You’ve got some long-lived grandparents there, Jason. If they’re anything like my parents (same age), the year 2000 was a far-off dream when they were young, and they were among those of their generation who got to see it.
That’s quite a tale of the cars; I doubt I could compile an inventory so well for my own grandparents if needed.
As OliverTwist noted above, one special charm of CC is getting to know cars via their owner-drivers.
BTW, I’d never heard the tale of mustering-out WWII servicemen getting checked for Too Much Money. There had been profiteering large and small (I’m not making judgments), so I guess Uncle Sam did what could be done to nab the worst offenders.
Thanks sincerely for the writeup!
Thanks!
From what he has said on several occasions, this was the very last thing he did prior to his official discharge. I’m guessing there was enough opportunity for some to really reap the spoils of war or to win a boatload in gambling.
One opportunity for gambling (which he didn’t do) was upon his return to the US. He landed in New York and was put on a train for Los Angeles. Getting to LA, somebody had an “oh crap” moment as they weren’t supposed to be there. So after three minutes in LA they immediately got back on the same train and returned to New York. He said nobody could walk after being on a train for five days.
My Grandfathers first car was also a Model A, but being about 20 years older his was purchased new. The next one I’m aware of is a ’39 or ’40 Mercury, and I’m pretty sure we have at least one picture of each from that until the ’88 LeSabre that was his last. I’m guessing there would have been at least one more car in the ’30s but I don’t know that for sure.
Another pleasure to read, Jason. Your family tales are the very definition of automotive folklore.
Thank you. Hearing the stories from others (such as those above) certainly helps make cars much more three-dimensional so I’m happy to be able to return the favor.
I love these stories. I could do something like this on the maternal grandparents, but the other side of the family would be more of a highlight reel.
An aunt and uncle were married in 1948 and drove a hand-me-down Model A until 1951, when they were given my grandparents’ 1935 Ford. They considered it a huge upgrade.
Always interested in autos and family history. Going to be a long read, based on 1920s reports. My family were Conner’s on my mothers side, They hated the Cullipher’s. My past family were wealthy bootleggers in South Carolina as well as the Culliphers., Family has always believed this was a “hit” on the Swing Bridge.
The Swing Bridge Tragedy:
About 11 p.m. on August 28, 1923, three carloads of friends and family packed up to drive the fifteen miles home to Conway (South Carolina) after a fun Tuesday seeing the sights at Myrtle Beach. A fifteen-year-old named Roberta Connor got out of her parents’ vehicle, which was the third car in the line, and climbed into the first car so she could be with friends more her age.
An hour later many people in Conway were awakened by wind that carried rain into their homes, and they got up to shut their windows. A few minutes later, just past midnight, the whistle at the Conway Light and Ice Company began to blow. Usually, “…it was blown as a fire alarm, a signal to call workmen and to usher in the New Year,” according to an article by Evelyn Snider in the Independent Republic Quarterly.
This time, the whistle meant something else.
Treacherous driving
In 1923 cars were new and roads were narrow and rutted. In many places, the roads those cars traveled that night weren’t wide enough for one car to pass another on dry and sunny days, much less on rainy nights. Canals and swamps lined the roads, and ditches filled quickly in wet weather. Thunderstorms and heavy showers are common in August along the South Carolina coast.
As the little three-car caravan trundled carefully along at speeds likely not exceeding 20 or 30 miles per hour, their autos were spaced several minutes apart. There was no need to try and keep up with each other; their day in the sun was done and everyone was thinking about home and bed and the next day’s chores.
The first car in the line, the one in which Roberta Connor rode with her young friends, reached the Connors’ home in Conway without incident. The ride home took about an hour.
The second car had a young man named Willie Cullipher at the wheel, driving his brother, Sutton Cullipher’s, used Dort. In the front seat with him was Kitty Belle Norman and Sutton’s daughter, Ella. In the back seat was Sutton, his wife, Cora, and two more Cullipher children.
Julius Sutton Cullipher and Cornelia Anna Price Cullipher were 31 and 37 years old on August 28, 1923. Their three children were two girls ages seven (Hettie) and five (Ella), and a little boy named for his father (Julius G.). He was still a lap baby at age two and a half, because he hadn’t yet been dethroned.
Cornelia came from the Aynor area, and she and Sutton lived there for several years after marrying. Around 1918 he took a job at Conway Lumber Company, and they moved to Conway. They attended the Second Baptist Church of Conway. It was the Culliphers’ first beach trip of the year: They wanted to see improvements made in Myrtle Beach before the vacation season was over.
In the final and third car were Marvin Connor, age 62, and his 50-year-old wife, Cora Ellen Connor, and friends named Mrs. E.G. Norman (Kitty’s mother) and Kever Owens. Marvin was a farmer, and he and Ellen had seven children. All were grown and on their own except for 15-year-old Roberta.
A Ford touring car with one headlight and one taillight burned out passed Marvin Connor’s car. A few miles farther west, the Ford approached the Cullipher car. They were about a half-mile from the steel truss swing bridge that crossed the Waccamaw River and fed into the Conway business district.
The Ford’s driver pulled closer. Willie Cullipher got as far to the right as he felt was safe, and the one-eyed Ford swung out to pass at what Willie Cullipher judged was as fast as the car could go, which in those days was likely about 40 mph. The road at that spot was particularly narrow; Willie Cullipher later said he intended to pull to the side and let the Ford pass as soon as there was a safe spot to do so.
But the Ford driver passed before Willie could get over. As the Ford and the Cullipher car drew even with each other, the right front wheel area of the Ford hit the Culliphers’ left front wheel and fender hard enough to knock the steering wheel out of Willie’s hands. The Culliphers’ vehicle was knocked into the ditch, where it tipped and landed on the passenger side.
“Get out of the road!” the Ford driver yelled at Willie.
The Ford slowed down after the impact and a man stepped out of the car, Willie Cullipher remembered. He saw the car was “full” of people: Three men at least, and maybe a woman too. Willie said the driver appeared to be under the influence of liquor.
No one was injured except Sutton Cullipher, who recently had several operations for appendicitis. His incision was ripped open, and later the coroner said his wounds were mortal.
Sutton screamed in pain, and Willie told his brother to hush. He said, loud enough for the Ford occupants to hear, that he’d get the Ford’s license plate number and report him to the law.
The person who stepped out of the car hurriedly got back in, and the Ford left at a high rate of speed toward the bridge that was a half-mile away.
About 15 minutes later Marvin Connor approached the spot where his friends’ car lay on its side in the ditch, and it started to rain hard. Willie Cullipher waved at him to stop.
“They stopped me and said that Cullifer (sic) was about dead,” Connor testified in a sworn inquest conducted on August 29, “and wanted me to take him in my car and carry him to the doctor and I got him in my car and his wife and his three children and my wife, I came on with them to the steel bridge.”
In the front seat with Marvin Connor was his wife, Ellen. The entire Cullipher family – Sutton, Cornelia and their children Hettie, Ella and Julius – were in the back seat. Sutton continued to moan, and said he “felt all broken up on the inside and he believed he was killed.”
The four other occupants from the Cullipher and Connor vehicles – Kitty Belle Norman and her mother, Kever Owens and Willie Cullipher – began walking toward Conway, and toward the bridge.
Exactly two weeks later, Marvin Connor testified under oath about what happened next.
When I started, the road seemed to be very rough and Mr. Cullipher, the wounded man, said, ‘My God, I can’t stand it.’ Then I drove about as slow as possible, so as not to hurt him any more than was necessary. Then I kept on driving about that rate until I got to the bridge, and when I got to the bridge, I put my foot on the gas feed and shoved the gas to it and ran right up there – the windshield was wet, with rain water, the rain was pouring down and I couldn’t see good, and I was not expecting the bridge to be open, I was not studying about it, and I was naturally on it before I knew. The wind was not blowing any that I know of, but the rain was pouring down…I remember this: that it didn’t rain hard enough for me to have the curtains up and didn’t rain hard enough to blow under there and wet me.
The span was “slam open,” Connor said, and although he said he was driving only about five miles per hour the Connors’ Dort touring car plunged almost 20 feet into the Waccamaw River.
The Dorts
The last two cars in the little caravan were a brand called Dorts – both Marvin Connor and Willie Cullipher were driving one.
Dorts were made for nine years, from 1915-1924, and they were built by the Dort Motor Car Company in Flint, Michigan. Josiah Dort, who became a millionaire from selling horse-drawn carriages, was the founder.
“Quality Goes Clear Through,” an advertisement dated August, 1922, says. “New prices of $1095 for the Dort Yale Sedan and $1045 for the Dort Yale Coupe emphasize more than ever their great value. And the widespread demand for these cars, which this year has been largely responsible for an increase of 319 per cent in closed car production, assumes even larger proportions.”
The Dort Motor Company was in business until 1924, a year after Dort’s death.
It’s hard to say the year of manufacture of the Dorts that Willie Cullipher and Marvin Connor were driving, but the Connors’ Dort was described as “old.” By 1923 Dorts had been manufactured long enough they could have been purchased second-hand, which according to Marvin Connor’s descendants was more plausible than to imagine he bought a brand-new one. Ellen Walsh, Marvin Connor’s granddaughter, wondered how her grandparents afforded a Dort car with curtains all around it. She was under the impression they were poor.
“Their children had to work to make ends meet,” Walsh said in 2014, “and then they had a car such as that.”
The Connors’ Dort was found to have faulty brakes, as a September 6, 1923, article notes:
The road department was interested in finding out if the Dort car which plunged through the open draw bridge last week resulting in the deaths of six people at one time, was in good repair as to brakes.
The car was removed from the river on Thursday and a careful examination of the car was made. The report was that this car was practically without brakes. The bands had become worn and had not been renewed. They would not take hold when the lever was applied for more than about two inches of the circumference of the drum round which they were supposed to work.
It is believed that if the brakes had been in good condition that the car would have been stopped before it went over into the river.
Sutton Cullipher’s Dort was purchased used, and the day after the wreck a man named Harrelson retrieved it from the ditch and took it to Conway. He was the Dort’s previous owner and still held a mortgage against it.
After the Plunge
Marvin Connor testified on September 11 that everyone in his Dort screamed as the car tumbled into the river and sank to the bottom. Willie Cullipher said he heard the car fall, and he and the other walkers started running toward the bridge. When they saw what happened they began yelling for help.
The Horry Herald reported two days later that Connor, “…scrambled until he was outside and clear of the car and struggled to the surface and swam out behind the clump of bushes south of the bridge head. He could not aid the others in any way.”
The first person Marvin Connor remembers seeing on land was Perry Quattlebaum, who had been the bridge tender for about five years and worked at the Conway Light and Ice Co. located near the bridge on the river’s west bank – the Conway side.
A short time after midnight, Quattlebaum heard the fire whistle. He was “…packing ice on the back platform and a negro ran up there and said something about what happened on the other side of the bridge. I didn’t know until we got there that there was someone overboard. He said a car had run off the bridge or something and I went running. He told me after we got across the bridge near the plant that the bridge was open and I told him it was not. He said, ‘Yes it was.’ I said, ‘There is no boat going through it.’ He said, ‘It is open.’”
Quattlebaum straightened the bridge and noticed the safety chain was hanging down, loose and free from its normal knots that held the bridge in place for car traffic. When he reached the east bank Quattlebaum saw Marvin Connor, who told him what happened. J.A. Holt, a Conway police officer, soon arrived, and when Marvin Connor told him about the one-eyed Ford that wrecked the Culliphers’ car, Holt immediately thought of Winston Russ, a young man he saw driving over the swing bridge a few minutes earlier. Shortly before 2 a.m., Holt left to find Russ.
By then many people arrived to help, and “…after swinging the car up to near the surface of the water, all of the unfortunate people were taken out of the water by daylight on Wednesday morning, except Mrs. Marvin Connor.” They dragged the river all day Wednesday, but she remained missing.
The Cullipher family’s bodies, “…were taken to the undertaking establishment of the Kingston Furniture Co. as fast as they were recovered from the water.” Coroner L.W. Cooper determined the children died from drowning, because there were no other obvious injuries to their bodies. The children were found inside the Dort with their mother. Sutton Cullipher’s body was outside the car.
The Culliphers’ car was removed the ditch on Wednesday, August 29. The Connors’ car remained in the river until Thursday, August 30, “…when it was towed down to the landing at the wharves here and it was there removed,” the Horry Herald reported on September 6. “It had sustained some damage.”
Also on Thursday afternoon, Cora Ellen Connor’s body, “…was found by D.M. Watts, captain of one of the river boats…A crowd of people gathered as her remains were detached and lifted from the branches of an oak where it had lodged by the edge of the stream, down in the long bend below the property of the Conway Lumber Company. This was more than a mile from the place where the car took the plunge.”
Her body was, “…removed by the undertaking establishment to the home north of Conway,” and the next day, Friday, August 31, Ellen Connor’s funeral was held.
Wind or Whim
Conway residents burned with questions. Who was in the Ford with one headlight? Was it Winston Russ? Was it bootleggers? Did the driver open the swing bridge to avoid being caught for the hit and run, or did the wind move it in a tragic coincidence?
Two days after the wrecks, the Horry Herald reported that whoever was driving the one-eyed Ford, “…was responsible for the wreck. In the opinion of some this man had gone on to the bridge and intended to block pursuit until his escape could be made good. He might not have meant to open the draw entirely, but only enough to stop the coming on
..other car while he made haste, perhaps, to get out of the country.”
Perry Quattlebaum explained the bridge’s safety at an inquest on September 11. It was his job “to open the bridge whenever a boat blew for it.” When that happened, he retrieved the bridge key, which was kept “lying by the side of the bridge, right up about the center, up from the socket.” Once the key was inserted, he would “walk around” to open it.
A crank operated the swing bridge manually, and the “key” Quattlebaum referred to was likely a long wrench or metal pole used as a crank handle. Another ice plant employee called it a “turn pole.” When the operator walked in a circle pushing the pole, it cranked gears on a pivot mechanism set atop a concrete piling located under the bridge in the middle of the river, and the bridge opened.
Quattlebaum estimated the bridge was “sixty or seventy-five feet” long, and when he got it swung around far enough for watercraft to sail through he waited for the boat to pass. Then he cranked the other way until the bridge was closed again, and he “tied a couple of knots with a trace chain; it was tied on the end next to Conway.”
If the key, or turn pole, was not used, Quattlebaum said, one man couldn’t move the bridge by himself, but two probably could. He didn’t think wind could move it far enough for a car to fall through, especially if the safety chain was in place.
“I don’t think the wind would move it sixteen feet,” he said. “It would have to move it sixteen feet for a car to go off it. It might move it a little bit one way or the other.”
A few years earlier, Quattlebaum recalled, crew from a boat named the Dixie opened the bridge at 11 p.m., and they didn’t close it back up. The bridge remained open until 7 a.m. the next morning. In the period Quattlebaum had been the bridge tender, the only other time it was open when it wasn’t supposed to be was a few years earlier, in September. A storm blew through and, “it was swung the length of the chain and a car couldn’t go across it.”
Quattlebaum was in charge of opening the bridge at night, and during “the day time it was turned by some of the laborers at the [ice] plant.” Winston Russ, Quattlebaum said, had opened the bridge “a few times,” with the most recent occasion he was aware of taking place “five or six weeks” earlier.
Dozens of people testified at another coroner’s inquest held on September 11 at the county courthouse, which had a standing room-only audience. Some said they previously saw the bridge moved by strong winds. Others said the bridge could only be manually moved – without the turn pole – if two or three men pulled on it. Another said that more than five years earlier a chain was put on the bridge to remedy the wind problem.
Quattlebaum said that in the ninety days preceding the tragedy, “the bridge had been repaired and prior to that time a heavy car would shake it.” Z.L. Green said he worked on the bridge on August 28 and for the prior week and a half, and that it was in “very good” condition. When Green knocked off for the day at 6 p.m. the safety chain was “…tied with a couple of knots. There was a big link and the chain was run through that big link.”
Everyone agreed it was unlikely that the bridge moved as far as it did that night, if the safety chain was left knotted, without human intervention. J.H. Perry, who often crossed the bridge, said it was common for the bridge to be out of place by “18 or 20 inches,” but never more than that because the safety chain prevented it.
However, the chain was dangling free, Perry Quattlebaum noticed, right after the Connors’ car fell into the river.
The One-Eyed Ford
Perry Quattlebaum said in his inquest testimony on September 11:
I think I saw a one-light car a few minutes before the alarm of the accident…After hearing the alarm I ran over there and found the draw span 15 or 20 feet from the approach. My chain was still hanging on the approach… Winston Russ had opened the bridge a few times while in our employ.
After the wreck, many people looked suspiciously at Winston Russ and his friends. Several testified they saw Russ pull up to the New York Café in downtown Conway, about 11:45 p.m., in a one-eyed Ford touring car owned by Julius Love. Love was a traveling salesman who lived in Sumter and worked for “a dry goods house” owned by M. Citron in Columbia. Russ, Love and another local young man named Frank Levinson stayed a short time at the cafe, then took the Ford to “Cushman’s garage” before they returned to the café in a truck. A Conway police officer thought they also had a young woman with them.
J.A. Holt, the Conway officer, testified twice at the two coroner’s inquests conducted on August 29 and on September 11. The Horry Herald reported he said on August 29:
Last night about the time the storm came I was at the café corner and a car came to the café. Winston Russ, a travelling man, Mr. Levenson [sic] and a girl, maybe two. They stopped there and pretty soon they carried the car to Mr. Cushman’s garage and did not tarry at café but a little while. Mr. Levenson and this other man and Russ took this little one seated truck of Cushman’s. They came to café and got a lunch and came back up the street…
About 12 o’clock and about 10 minutes after they came to café alarm was made at Power plant and we got fire engine out. We met Paul Quattlebaum who told him that some folks were drowned over at steel bridge. No one on that car came to the alarm. John Chestnut and I went to get Russ and have him to explain what he knew about it. Bridge was closed when we got there.
Russ wanted to get key from Levinson at Hotel to open garage to see car. Russ and I went to room and he called for key. Levenson [sic] and the other man seemed to be very much excited when Levinson opened the door. He enquired what the trouble was, Russ told Levenson [sic] the car was wanted for purpose of investigation. The travelling man said they had not opened the bridge, and reminded Russ that he asked him whether the bridge would turn and Russ say yes, but we did not turn it. We got the keys and examined the lights and there was only one. On the right hand wheel there was a place that looked like it had been rubbed.”
Officer Holt took the Ford’s key and told the men to not move it.
On September 11, Officer Holt elaborated on his earlier testimony.
I told [Russ] we wanted him to come down the street and go over to the bridge, that they were in trouble there and somebody said he was driving a car that wrecked a car and I asked him to come and tell what he knew about it. I asked him where that car was that he drove across the bridge and he said it was down in Cushman’s garage. I said, ‘we want to examine it,’ he said ‘all right.’ I said ‘they claim the car that wrecked the other car was a car with only one light on it.’ He said, ‘the car I had been driving had two lights.’ I said, ‘We want to test it out.’
We came to Kingston Hotel, he said he had left the key with Frank Levinson or Julius Love. Russ and myself went to a room and we heard them [Levinson and Love] talking…Russ knocked at the door and they seemed very much excited and said, ‘What is the matter; what is the trouble?’ I said, ‘There is a whole bunch of people drowned in the river and we want to get the key and examine that car you had been driving tonight; somebody ran into them over there and we want to examine the car you had been driving.’ Julius Love said to Russ, ‘Russ, I asked you if that bridge was turnable and you said yes, but we didn’t turn it, did we?’ And Russ said, ‘no.’
They delivered the key and we went to the car to test it out. On the spokes of the right-hand front wheel there was a space of five or six spokes that had no mud on it, the whole wheel was muddy except that space that seemed to be rubbed around, the mud was all off it; it was rubbed perfectly clean, as clean as you could take anything and wipe it off. The spokes were not broke but the mud was wiped off near the hub…
Next morning I stopped the car and forbid him to move it until further orders, that it might be wanted at an investigation before the coroner’s jury. Winston Russ said, ‘[Julius Love] has got to leave town.’ I said, ‘He can’t leave in this car.’ I turned the key over to Mr. Cooper, the coroner, and I have not seen the car since.
The Love Car
Leona Jones (1903-1989) testified on September 11 that she was in the back seat of Julius E. Love’s Ford with Joe Holliday and Frank Levinson. In the front seat were Julius Love, Max Banner and the driver, Winston Russ. She said they drove to Myrtle Beach from Conway after dark, got there around 9 p.m. and stayed about an hour and a half before heading back to Conway. Julius Love was driving but in Socastee, she said, while the car was slowly rolling, Love and Russ switched places and Russ took the driver’s seat. She didn’t know why Russ took over driving, and she said she didn’t see anyone drinking alcohol that night.
The Love car arrived back in Conway at 11:40 p.m., Jones said, and her house was their first stop, where she got out and the five men drove away.
Joe Holliday remembered they left the beach around 10:30 p.m., and while he said they passed several cars along the way home he stated, “We struck no other car.” He recalled passing Marvin Connor in the Anderson mill area and named another car owner he recognized at the swing bridge – Harry Bray – but said he did not remember passing the Culliphers, whom he knew by sight.
Joseph William Holliday, Jr. (1901-1944) was the grandson of the original patriarch of a family that is still firmly established in Galivants Ferry. In the 1920s his family had an extremely prosperous farm business; today Holliday descendants still own much land in western Horry County and many of their buildings are on the National Register of Historic Places. Anyone who has traveled west out of Horry County on U.S. 501 has seen their columned mansion, enormous three-story red and green barn and vintage mercantile on the east side of the Little Pee Dee River.
Joe Holliday was 22 years old in 1923. He later married Leona Jones, and they had a child.
Frank Levinson was in “the mercantile business,” and Leona Jones was one of his store’s three clerks. Julius Love, Levinson said at the inquiry, lived in Sumter and worked in a Columbia dry goods store. Love had arrived in Conway the morning of August 28. Levinson testified:
We left the beach and got to Anderson’s mill and passed Mr. Conner [sic] in a car, and about a quarter mile up the road we passed another car, and I didn’t see who was in that car. We came to town and got here right after the train came in, sometime between 11:30 and a quarter to 12, and we took Miss Jones home, and took Max Banner and Joe Holliday home.
As we left his house it commenced to raining, and I said to Mr. Love, ‘Let’s go to the café and get a night lunch before it closes.’ We got there about ten minutes to 12 and were eating lunch when Love said, ‘I’ve got to go to Little River in the morning,’ and Winston Russ said, ‘You can put your car in Cushman’s place, and I will leave the key with you, and in case you want to leave early you can get your car.’
I took the key and went to the room after we put the car up. We were in the room and we heard the whistle blow, and I said, ‘I believe it is a fire.’ And I went to the window and didn’t see any fire or smoke, and went back to my room and went to sleep…
Later in the night the policeman came to my door, and we asked who it was, and he told us. I had the key to the car, and also to Cushman’s garage, and he said, ‘We want the key to examine the Ford you all came in to town.’ I didn’t ask him why he wanted the key, but gave him the key, and went back to bed. And that is all I know about it.
When Max Banner testified about the evening’s events, he said the young adults had gone to the Pavilion in Myrtle Beach, which was a popular oceanfront dancing and socializing spot. On the way home they passed many cars, including Marvin Connor’s Dort. However, he didn’t know Sutton or Willie Cullipher, and didn’t know if they passed the Culliphers’ Dort.
Winston Russ, who lived in Conway, gave the same timetable as his friends and said,
…down about eight miles from Conway we passed Mr. Connor in an old Dort car close to Mr. Anderson’s saw mill, and came on about half or a quarter of a mile and we passed Mr. Cullipher. We left them behind and came on to the first bridge.
Russ said he was driving “about 30 or 35 miles an hour,” while passing the Culliphers, and his questioner commented, “That is some going, isn’t it?” Russ replied, “No.” Also, despite Perry Quattlebaum testifying that Winston Russ had opened the bridge before, including just a few weeks prior to the tragedy, Russ denied it in the inquiry. He was asked if he had ever turned the bridge, and Russ’ answer was, “Never in my life.”
Russ also gave new information about witnesses who saw Julius Love’s Ford cross the swing bridge:
On the other side of the veneering plant we passed a Hupmobile touring car. I heard later that Mr. Roscoe Gore was driving the car. He stopped and dimmed his light for us to go over the bridge. We crossed the drawbridge and passed Mr. Harry Bray and his wife going to the beach. I hollered to Mr. Bray, ‘Hey’ and continued on into town, and put Miss Jones out, and then put Mr. Banner out and then Mr. Holliday, and drove straight back to the café and got a lunch and went to Mr. Cushman’s place and hung around there for a few minutes, and put this car in the shed and hacked the roadster out.
Mr. Elliott came along and asked me was I going home, and he got in my car and I went home straight, and about one o’clock they called me and pulled me out of bed.
Mentioning that he saw Mr. and Mrs. Harry Bray seemed to exonerate the people in Julius Love’s one-eyed Ford. Although the Brays were not called to testify at either inquest, the Horry Herald ran an article on September 20 headlined, “Winston Russ is Now Clear.” It reads:
As Mr. and Mrs. Bray arrived at the steel bridge where the tragedy a little later occurred, and drew aside for a wagon to get off the bridge and were about to enter on the bridge, Mr. Bray saw another car entering the bridge at the other end of the draw, and the Bray car put on brakes and stopped close to the ditch while this oncoming car passed by.
Some person in this passing car said, ‘Ha!’
Mrs. Bray remarked to Mr. Bray: ‘That is someone who is drunk.’
Mr. Bray replied: ‘That sounds like Winston Russ.’
The names of Mr. and Mrs. Bray were handed in to the coroner as material witnesses to throw light on the bridge mystery. It was understood that they would be used as witnesses at the inquest, according to the statement of a citizen. It was expected that Mr. Harry Bray would be called to testify to show that it was not the driver of the one-eyed car who turned the bridge or wrecked the Cullipher car. Harry Bray would have testified that the voice he heard was that of Winston Russ.
[They]…went over the bridge, and by the place where the Cullipher car was wrecked, a short time before the wreck took place, and the accident at the open draw a little later, and they will testify that they passed two cars just beyond the red hill from Conway. These two cars are supposed to have been the Cullipher and Conner [sic] cars.
They will testify that the car they met at the bridge had two lights in front.
…Suspicion has rested upon the occupants of the J.E. Love car driven into Conway on the fatal night by Winston Russ, a member of the party, the other members being J.E. Love, Frank Levinson, Maxey Banner, Miss Leona Jones and Joe Holliday. This new testimony unearthed and printed for the first time in this article will undoubtedly in the minds of all reasonable people clear up and put an end to all such suspicions.
The article concludes with the thought that the Little River Road branched off the road upon which the Culliphers and Connors were driving, between where the wreck occurred and the bridge. The one-eyed Ford, the article says, could have turned off on that road and never reached the bridge.
No Responsibility
The jury at the coroner’s inquest released a verdict that said while they thought the Cullipher vehicle was wrecked by another car, and that the swing bridge was opened by a human being that night, they did not have enough evidence to assign blame to anyone. The Horry Herald reported on September 27:
The jury placed no responsibility on any known person or persons for the opening of the draw. Their verdict was based on the testimony which has been published in this paper. It eliminates the theory that the bridge span was opened by the wind. It states that the span was opened by persons unknown to the jury and does not go any further for the reason that the testimony is not sufficient to fasten responsibility on any known person or persons.
On the other hand as to the wreck of the Cullipher car, on which the jury did not pass, it is abundantly established that the wrecking was done by human agency and not by accident as a result of careless steering. The man who wrecked the car and went on his way without stopping is as bad as the unknown person who turned the bridge.
Laid to Rest
The Cullipher’s pastor was Rev. J.H. Causey of Loris. He was notified as soon as possible about the tragedy, but word did not get to him in time for him to attend their funerals. Following the coroner’s inquest held at the Kingston Furniture Co. on August 29, their bodies were taken to Nichols for burial.
All five of the Culliphers are resting in Jones Nichols Cemetery, a quiet country spot just over the Horry County line into Marion County. The Cullipher parents’ gravestones each have a hand with one index finger pointing up. Sutton Cullipher’s marker says “Father,” with his name, dates of birth and death (Nov. 28, 1882-Aug. 28, 1923) and this epitaph: “’Twas hard to give thee up, But thy will of God be done.”
Julius Sutton Cullipher was survived by his parents, Mr. and Mrs. L.D. Cullipher of Aynor; three brothers: Willie Cullipher, A.T. Cullipher and Arthur Cullipher; and two sisters: Mrs. Mary Richardson of Brittons Neck and Mrs. Senie Huggins of Galivants Ferry.
Cornelia’s stone is joined to his, and it says Mother, but her first name is misspelled. Conealia it says, instead of Cornelia. It notes she was the “Wife of J.S. Cullipher, and her birth and death dates (April 26, 1886-Aug. 28, 1923) are followed by, “Asleep in Jesus.” She was the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert Price of Nichols.
The children’s three separate markers, about 1/6 the size of their parents’, each have a left-facing flying dove at the tops followed by the word “BABY” in capital letters. Hettie was the oldest – she would have been eight years old in four more months. “Our loved one,” her marker says. The middle child was also a daughter. Ella had just turned five, and her stone says she was “Gone to a better land.” Two-year-old Julius G.’s epitaph is, “Gone to sleep angel.”
The drawbridge was used for 15 more years before the current Main Street Bridge, which has two lanes and doesn’t swing open, replaced it in 1938.
“my grandmother Violet (referred to previously as Iris)”
But everyone knew her as Nancy.
(If you don’t get that you probably weren’t there.)
Neither set of grandparents, far as I know, ever owned a car. My dad’s dad had a license, I think.
He died in “July 66”. I never met him till I saw him at the funeral home.
My mom’s parents died in “Nov 65″ and Sept 71”.
Have very vague memories of mom’s, dad.
He had a very debilitating stroke about the same time frame as “Jack Kennedy”.
I missed this account the first time out – thanks. Am surprised your granddad did not get a taste for performance after that 57 Chev, those were reasonably fast cars even with the Powerglide.
Nothing as interesting in my family, three Simca 1000s, one 1100 and a 2nd gen Subaru Leone in poverty spec (1300c, 4X2) – that’s the sum total of my maternal granddad’s cars. My other granddad had a WWII Jeep for a while but in general relied on dad’s cars for transport. Pretty mundane…
This has been a fun read filled with information about vehicles and family. Some good laughs and I am sure some very annoying experiences with to me of these cars and trucks.
As a Bicentennial baby, the earliest car I remember my grandpa having was a yellow 1977 Impala wagon. We went all over the place down back roads and fishing spots. Back seat permanently folded down as a sleep/play area for my sister and me. Always stopping at the party store for Deluxe Graham cookies and Treesweet apple juice with the foil pull tabs. Grandpa tried to get me lost but I had a good sense of direction. Those were the best years. About 1980 or 1981 my aunt borrowed it and wrecked it. At the gas station, as I couldn’t see over the buckled hood, I was thinking why are we putting gas into a wrecked car? Probably to get to the dealership.
In a pinch he bought a brown Mercury Zephyr wagon. Not sure what year but it had a brick red vinyl interior and straight 6. I don’t recall him ever having problems with it. We did the back road rides and fishing with that too, but there wasn’t nearly the room in the back, so I rode up front with him. He drove it from Michigan to Georgia for a company trip. Essentially starting up a company that would end his own job. He didn’t like the car as much as the Impala, he felt it was too small and light. Like riding up on snowdrifts instead of plowing through. He was also a big and tall guy. One time in that car I sneezed and out came what looked like a gust of snowflake confetti. Total surprise as I was feeling just fine. I was afraid to sneeze for quite awhile after that.
A few years after he retired when his company closed, and about 1987, he went back to the big ones and bought a lightly used burgundy 1986 Caprice wagon, V6, burgundy vinyl interior, no options except AC. Had the cop car hubcaps with the 6 slots. Simplest was best to him. He had no problems with that one either.
By the early 90s I was a teenager and liked to tinker with radios and things. I had learned that his large faceplate AM radio had the same mounting beneath as the other GM radios, and lined up flush. He let me cut out his chrome faceplate and put in an AM/FM stereo and rear speakers. He cared less about the car and more about seeing his grandson research and build things. He too was an engineer/fabricator with skills in many areas, and I took after him in many ways.
But soon enough, my aunt struck again. This time a couple of her bar buddies stole the car out of the driveway one winter night. They made it about 5-10 miles when they attempted a seasonal road and got stuck. It was my bus driver who spotted it in the valley from her high stance. They shredded a tire and who knows how hard they overworked the drivetrain. The car was never the same after that. My grandpa kept it going for years as his health was running out. He gave in and just let my aunt keep the car.
The last car he bought was a loaded 94 Buick Century wagon. I don’t remember when it was. I don’t think he had much decision in it, because he really didn’t like the smaller wagons, but he was barely able to get out much anymore anyway. He just got something my grandma liked.
He passed in 2004, and my grandma traded the Century for a Chrysler LHS of some sort. Soon after, my aunt’s son wrecked it, though grandma took the blame. Then I could barely keep up. Grandpa definitely had kept the stability in the household. There was a PT Cruiser. Late 90s Lesabre. Late 90s S10 Blazer which I fixed then she lent to my aunt’s son and never saw it again. Early 80s Seville which I welded up a hole in the trunk, and then my aunt wrapped around a tree. AWD Astro which my aunt’s daughter used and wrapped around a tree shortly after her 16th birthday, ultimately died from the injuries. 4.0 student and on track to be valedictorian, but sadly no good examples to learn driving from. Grandma had hip replacements and a stroke about that time, and wasn’t able to drive anymore. Went to a nursing home and passed in 2020.