Curbside Classic: 1953 Pontiac Chieftain – I Like Ike. But Maybe I Love Lucy More.

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– Posted on July 4, 2024

1953.

My dad was 19, recently graduated from high school…and desperately trying to avoid being drafted into the Chinese Nationalist Army under the ultimate oversight of the dictator Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek. Dad failed in this regard.  He was drafted, only not into the Army. Rather, he was conscripted into the Air Force where he was assigned to pilot a tank. Presumably in Taiwan in 1953 tanks were much easier to come by than airplanes. Anyhow, the assignment didn’t last for long. That gig was up after his poor tank-piloting skills led to an unfortunate incident involving the destruction of a farmer’s field and maybe killing – or at least substantially scaring – a water buffalo or two. In short order my Dad was ejected from the service, sent to college, and the rest is history.

On the other side of the world, my mom was 11, living in Western Maryland in an area that is now a suburb of Washington, DC but back then was mostly woods and dairy farms; notably devoid of tanks, and particularly Chinese people.

I was 8.5 years from existence and given the circumstances was about as likely to occur as a snowstorm in August (in Maryland or Taipei).  But things happen, you know?

And this 1953 Pontiac?  It was there for all of that.

It’s still here, outlasting both of my parents, Chiang Kai-shek (and his wife, the Dragon Lady), and undoubtedly one very angry Taiwanese farmer whose rice paddy my dad obliterated because he wasn’t really so good at driving a tank and was more than happy to be quickly discharged from the service and sent on to his ultimate fate as a civil engineer/architect/urban planner/coastal zone manager in America. Of course this all worked out very well for me 8.5 years later.

Thank you Taiwanese farmer.  I, car and public transit travelers to several major metropolitan airports, and a whole bunch of marine mammals are eternally grateful.

I don’t know the backstory on this Chieftain, but here it is sitting in the parking lot of a shoe store in Nashua, NH.  Big as life and then some.  All 3,400 pounds of it looking as good as it did when General Eisenhower was days away from being inaugurated President. But you know what? Ike’s televised inauguration was just one day after a certain television event of the Century (as of 1953, at least) that involved Lucille Ball. And when it came to comparing “ratings”, many more people in fact tuned into I Love Lucy that third week of January, 1953 than Ike’s ceremony..because you know, Lucy? Ike?

For those, like me, who missed it, it is said that Eisenhower’s 1953 swearing in ceremony wasn’t exactly a barn-burner.  Still, it did mark the only (thus far) occasion where a new President was lassoed in front of the American people by a rodeo star and TV/movie cowboy. Montie Montana was his name. Unfortunately, much of the American television-viewing public missed that spectacle.  Cowboy fans would have to wait another 28 years until a different movie cowboy was actually elected President (certainly based to some extent on fame stemming from his iconic 1953 movie appearance).

Lucy Goes to the Hospital, January 19, 1953, was viewed by over 70% of American households with a television set.

I totally understand the greater interest in I Love Lucy than the TV broadcast of Ike’s inaugural. That’s because I’m a man interested in extremes.  I either like things that obviously are created to last forever and stand the test of time, or if not that then things that last a maximum of 30 minutes.  A presidency, particularly of the kind we Americans had 72 years ago, would have seemed to me to be kind of iffy in the realm of consequential things. Yeah, he’s tall and bald and looks like someone who deserves a desk job for the next four years; but that Lucy!  She’s one craaaaaazy redhead. (Not really) Plus, she’s a rhumba girl. (Perhaps, yes.)  Always something exciting to see there!

The phenomenon of popular culture stealing the limelight from dull stuff like national politics is absolutely nothing new. The little things in life have a way of doing that.

To address the other end of my spectrum of interest in extremes, we have the 1953 Chieftain. I’m going to limit my commentary to basically what the car looks like since I really don’t know that much about these cars other than what they look like.  I know that there are many readers who can speak to the actual automotive merits of the car.  That will happen in the comments.

Since I’m making a case for trivial things being the most interesting, I will say that two of the things I like most about this Pontiac are the hood ornament and the antenna topper.  From what I can gather, the car probably came from the factory with that hood ornament, but probably not the antenna topper.  Whatever. They are totally cool (even better if the hood ornament lights up, which it might). I think that if you’re going to go the hood ornament route, then something made out of amber lucite that probably lights up at night is the way to go.

I’ve now seen these antenna toppers various places online, and they often come in the same shade of orange as the Chieftain’s Chief Pontiac head hood ornament. I like to think that the owner of this car probably thought long and hard before choosing the blue antenna topper. That’s good. It makes the car more noticeable, and wouldn’t you think that’s the point?

For a detailed discussion of the history of whitewall tires, you should redirect to Tom Halter’s excellent multipart coverage of the subject. All I’m going to say here is that the Chieftain’s whitewalls are clearly of the “go big or go home” school of whitewall tire thought. The red trim on the hubcaps is a perfect crowning touch.

The concept of accenting with bits of color extends to the trunk lid with the Pontiac badge in red, cresting over the grab area for the trunk. It’s also here where the car shows off its symmetry very well. The single tailpipe is about the only thing on this car that is not symmetrical. It’s almost an “exception that proves the rule” kind of thing.

I love symmetry.

There are Chief Pontiac busts on each rear fender, highlighting the 1953’s proto-fins. That’s what I call them. I’ve always appreciated the versions of these appendages that appear on early to mid 1950s Cadillacs. For some reason I’ve never noticed them before on Pontiacs, and I like these even more without the embedded tail lights that the Cadillacs have.

It was difficult to line up a good front shot of the full car given someone’s need to park in front of it, but you can still get the symmetry idea even in this slightly angled view. Here we have the accent trim carried over from the rear of the car plus another Chief Pontiac head logo; and a big red “Pontiac” badge that looks a little bit like a mustache, referencing Joseph Dennis’s recent post about car ‘staches. I’m now seeing these everywhere.  This one, if you just focus on the red badge, reminds me a bit of a John Waters (7 years old in 1953) pencil-thin mustache.  But if you look down at the big piece of chrome below, the Chieftain’s face takes on something of a Wilford Brimley effect (19 in 1953, just like my dad.). Pink Flamingos or Oatmeal, It’s the Right Thing to Do. Your choice. The Pontiac with its rich array of visual cues gives you access to both.

I wonder what Mr. Waters was watching in 1953 as opposed to Mr. Brimley. I can totally see a first-grader John Waters in Baltimore cracking up over the obstetrical antics of Lucy, Ricky, Fred and Ethyl…whereas Ike’s special day would be more to the liking of a guy who would later be famous for acting in Westerns and eating oatmeal. It’s a set of images that fits well with what has turned out to be our pop culture-informed expectations.

Well, maybe our expectations have led us astray. I can also see Wilford (given his chosen profession in the dramatic arts) being a lot more interested in critically watching Lucy and Ricky and soon to be Desi Jr./Little Ricky versus the guy who he narrowly missed serving under in a war. Wilford was a Marine who served in Alaska in 1953. A couple of years of doing that and a guy could easily develop a life-long love of a steaming bowl of oatmeal. Really, who knows? Wilford has been gone for 4 years, so there’s no asking him.

But it’s not knowing that’s in fact the point.

We never know in the moment what is going to make a lasting difference.  71 years later, I dare say that there are a lot more living human beings who could identify Lucille Ball in a lineup than Dwight D. Eisenhower (not that that’s a good thing).  Likewise, “Little Ricky” is still with us. As is this 1953 Pontiac. Would anyone have guessed this particular car – with its ornamental doodads so right for its time – could have lingered on, obviously cared for, so that I could encounter it in some random parking lot?

Along the way from then until now, so many things have happened that we never could have predicted. Just like that Taiwanese farmer and some sorry skinny 19 year old dude (decidedly NOT Wilford Brimley) whose bad tank driving skills brought us to exactly what you’re looking at this very second.

You just never know how things will turn out.

A few other notable 1953 events:

It was a busy year, we now know.