Louis Gendron! That’s all I could think of when I spied this ’68 Ford Ranch Wagon at a four-way stop down the street.
I’m uncertain whether I ever met the man or not. However, seeing this wagon showered me in a tsunami of a mixture of forgotten, pleasant, and bewildering childhood memories. The subconscious definitely has a way of reminding you who is in charge of your psyche.
Growing up in a town of 450 souls is a mixed bag of the highest order. You know everyone, and everyone knows you. Starting from my days in elementary school (where my cousin worked in the office taking attendance, my grandmother was head cook, another cousin was my fifth-grade teacher, and my father was president of the school board) onward, I realized that doing anything in a small town is akin to posing in your birthday suit in a storefront window in downtown Manhattan–lots of people will see you and talk about it. But my experience with a particular 1968 Ford Ranch Wagon was the absolute inverse of what I expected (1968 Galaxie CC here).
To me, Louis always was an enigma of sorts. From what I can determine, he was every bit as ordinary as white milk, but there was a mystique about his behavior. Louis had moved away after his wife’s death and his daughter had moved into their house. However, Louis had left his cars parked under the pecan and walnut trees beside the house, and among them was a green ’68 Ford Ranch Wagon.
The alley that ran beside Louis’s house went directly behind my aunt’s house as well as the house of my bachelor great-uncle, who lived next door her. Walking out the back door of my aunt’s house netted you a fine view of both Louis’s Ranch Wagon and its mate, an aqua ’68 Pontiac Catalina sedan.
For the life of me, I never could understand why Louis left his cars behind. Nor could I understand why he allowed his daughter to place the burn barrel for her trash right next to the Ford.
My memories of Louis’s ’68 Ford are quite vivid even though I have no idea how long his cars sat there. Two years? Ten years? Time is an abstract concept to many children, you see. It must have been for quite a while, since all the glass on each car had been rendered little more than translucent by sap from the nut trees.
Of the two cars, the Ford always spoke to me louder. Perhaps it was the angry demeanor of the Pontiac’s handlebar tail lights in contrast to those on the friendlier-looking Ford. The Ford was very much intact and seemed not to be aging, likely due to its encapsulation in tree sap and soot. There was no engine call-out on the front fenders stating “390” or “428”, leading me to believe it was powered by either the 240 CID straight six or the 302 V8. For 1968, Ford had a rather large gap in their V8 engine lineup, jumping from the 302 to the 390.
My seemingly frequent inquiries to my father never revealed why Louis had left his cars. I was always told, “He left them there”, a statement so ridiculously obvious that it insulted even an innocent and curious child. Even my probing questions to my great-uncle across the alley (who knew everyone in town, and whose living room was the clearing house for all local gossip) netted me nothing: “Louie left them there to rest; he may have had to leave town quickly. Did you know some members from the Chicago mob used to hang out up at the Purple Crackle?” The leaving town part was likely a red herring for my uncle’s amusement, but it surely created a wealth of possibilities in my fertile young mind. Was the mob after him? Did he owe somebody money–like, for instance, the mob? Was he trying to outrun the authorities? How did his wife die? I suspect the workings of my mind have provided a source of idle entertainment to others for over four decades now.
Even asking Louis’s granddaughter, three years my junior, proved a profound exercise in futility. However, if one believes the stereotype of females being amazingly disinterested in automobiles, her response would have only reinforced the perception: “Mom hates them; grandpa leaves them there.” Of course, in retrospect, she was right around ten years of age at the time, so why would she have cared? I never was able to muster the courage to actually ask Louis’s daughter, a very friendly woman who oozed an intoxicating aura that accentuated her femininity. One must overcome awe before regaining the ability to speak coherently.
Perhaps I am the only person who actually cared why such a fine ’68 Ford Ranch Wagon was being left to deteriorate. I certainly couldn’t detect the first wisp of concern from anybody else.
One sad and gloomy day, both the Ranch Wagon and Catalina vanished without a trace. Perhaps Louis finally had a change of heart and realized he was missing out on a most awesome slice of Ford wagon goodness. Let’s just hope.
Or more likely, someone made Louis’ daughter an offer she couldn’t refuse…
Just followed the link to read about Thebes, what happened to the population between 2010 and 2020? It looks like the population halved.
Like much of remote rural America, people left for better economic opportunities… the remaining populations are elderly, as the younger folk leave for better jobs…
Thebes is similar to my old hometown of Joy, IL. It’s a tiny rural hamlet in West Central IL, in 1970 it had 513 people, now it’s 372…
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joy,_Illinois
Thebes is near Cairo, which was once a thriving place, now it’s basically a ruin, with barely 10% of the population of a century ago; both are in Alexander County, which in 1940 had 25,496 people, now it’s cratered to only 4,695:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander_County,_Illinois
“Between 2010 and 2020, the population of Alexander County decreased to 5,240. The 36.4% decline was the largest of any of the 3,138 U.S. counties. Although the population of the county had been decreasing for decades, the closure of the Tamms Correctional Center in 2013 probably caused an acceleration of the decline in the 2010’s…”
Cairo:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cairo,_Illinois
“Developed as a river port, Cairo was later bypassed by transportation changes away from the large expanse of low-lying land, wetland, and water, which surrounds Cairo and makes such infrastructure difficult, and due to industrial restructuring, the population peaked at 15,203 in 1920, while in the 2020 census it was 1,733…”
Populations in downstate Illinois, except for “robust” towns like Champaign – Urbana and Bloomington – Normal (both “college towns”), are declining… former “factory” towns like Decatur, Peoria, Galesburg, Danville, Rock Island, have bled businesses and jobs…
Driving through rural downstate Illinois, many of these places are weatherbeaten, and look half – abandoned. Even my hometown of Joy IL in 1970 had two grocery stores, a restaurant, barber shop, four churches, hardware store, lumberyard, a “Chevy garage” and a “Ford garage” (you could order new cars from these “garages”, which largely serviced agricultural needs), two taverns, a bank, a post office. Now there is only the bank, one church, PO, a convenience store/gas station, a tavern and a restaurant (which actually does great business)… most of the old downtown is demolished and is empty lots, and many houses have been razed… there are *hundreds* of such places in Illinois…
“And so it goes…”
GM
I’ve been back there about once in the last ten years; that was to bury my grandmother. The town, which had little to offer 40 years ago, has declined further due to lack of industry, economic despair, and other unfortunate circumstances. It’s rather sad.
Here’s something I wrote about Thebes several years ago: https://www.curbsideclassic.com/blog/automotive-architectural-and-small-town-history-and-reminiscing-the-cars-structures-and-history-of-my-southern-illinois-hometown/
Dad had a ’68 Squire, a very nice car, but his previously single new wife (Mom died in ’69) had given up her ’69 Mustang convert when she married him and didn’t think a wagon fit her image, so it was traded on a ’73 Omega coupe with buckets, console, and a 350 4 bbl Rocket. That thing WAS a rocket, and suited her to a T.
Big Ford wagons like these were just good, dependable and functional family cars and dominated the market for years, and for good reason. Too bad we’ll never know why Louis abandoned his.
growing up, we had a 68 wagon in white much like the one photgraphed here.. my dad found it with some issue on a used lot. had an auto trailer brake box wiht manual lever mounted to the steering column, 3 on the tree standard trans and a huge pile of tobacco snuff that the prev owner had spit onto the drive shaft hump. dad cleaned that off and fixed whatever problem caused others to stay away. he picked it up in 73 or 74. Was the first car our family had with functioning air conditioning. we drove it across country. remember pulling into salt lake city- feeling the windows and they were hot even tho the sun was not shining on my side of the car. radio announcer that evening called out it was a balmy 101. once i got a learners permit, this was still in our fleet- generally as my mom’s car. on it, I learned clutch operation in a decidedly non sporty ride.
Excellent story Jason.
It’s a much much better story than the one where we actually find out what happened to Louis.
Thank you.
Some years later I learned Louis died of natural causes. Never knew how old he was, but his abandoning his cars never made sense to me, but I suppose he had reasons.
All that plain, untrimmed, white really emphasizes the car’s length.
Some body cared, if its still around.
My dad had two of these, a ‘68 and a ‘70. When the older one got long in the tooth it was relegated to mower hauler (he did side work as a landscaper) and we rode in the ‘70. He loved those wagons, and I have many memories of road trips in the back seat.