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| One of Dad's favourite sports: kicking salesmen, er ah, tires. |
There’s no doubt about it. Dad remained a “car guy” his entire life. And a “train guy” and a “steam engine guy” and certainly an “airplane guy." But never a “horse guy.” He envied Jay Leno's car collection, and really enjoyed episodes of shows like, what else, Car Crazy.
Dad was very pleased to have written a Fraser history. As the last of his generation, he felt responsible for capturing this family lore, and so it was a relief to have his photos and stories organized and preserved.
In fact, it inspired him to write more, and in 2004 he sat down to pen the story of something else that was near and dear to him -- the cars that he had known and loved. I can well imagine him gazing at these photos, declaring, "They don't make 'em like that anymore."
He didn’t quite complete his manuscript, as he was probably lured away from his task to go line dancing, but I had a good 24 pages of his handwritten script as fodder for this post.
As we know, Dad was a packrat and meticulous man. This applied to car ownership, too, of course. He kept a scribbler in the glove compartment of each and every car, in which he recorded every gas fill, oil change, and other sundry details.
This is why I can tell you with certainty that he filled up with $2.00 worth of gas on March 6, 1957. And I have the invoice showing that the muffler from Frank’s Texaco in Duluth was a steal at $21.80 on August 18, 1962.
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9 August 2004
It’s a rainy day – too wet for yard work or painting outside.
My grandfather, Douglas Fraser, and his eight offspring grew up before the automobile. A good driving horse was the motive power “when Pa was courtin’ Ma.”
25 HP GAAR-SCOTT
The first self-propelled vehicle my Dad had was a steam engine. First the 25 horsepower single-cylinder Gaar-Scott that blew up when the crown sheet came down. New flues had some paint on them which caused the water to foam and it was not possible to see the level in the water glass. Try-cocks (valves) – at the water glass upper and lower levels – were the alternative.
When steam came out of the lower try-cock, my Dad stepped to the left – a fortunate move – to turn on the injector to add water to the boiler. Too late! The crown sheet, the top of the fire box, had become red hot and came down. Live steam at 100 PSI blew out of the firing door, and lower ash cleanout doors, front and back.
Fortunately no one was seriously hurt. One of the Cardno boys (Aunt Dot’s brother?) who was firing the engine with straw had some scalding. Vaseline was the likely treatment. I remember, circa 1922 (I would be 3 years old) Myra, Doug and Jessie and I used to play in the firebox, or ride on the deck of the threshing machine at Uncle Gordon’s.
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| Collie decides the old Gaar-Scott makes a good lookout point. |
GAAR-SCOTT BIG 40
The new Gaar-Scott Big 40 came from Carberry. It had been used for plowing in that sandy area and had worn gears. It was not the best preserved steamer, but it was the most powerful – forty horsepower pulling power and 120 horsepower “on the belt.” It featured a double tandem compound engine, very smooth, and was last used in 1929.
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| A 40HP double-tandem Gaar-Scott |
FORD MODEL T
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| 1926 Ford Model T Touring Car |
The first automobile my Dad bought, circa 1926, was a Model T Ford Touring Car, with four doors and no top remaining. I remember Dad hit a gate post, and I promised not to tell Mother.
Dad took Jessie and me to Carman. (Uncle Gordon had left farming and moved there to train and race horses full-time, circa 1924.) Dad said Mom was peeved. She would have been more than peeved if she knew we ran off the road down what seemed a long slope, and back up – but didn’t upset!
That first Model T had a cut-out – a pedal on the floor just forward of the seat, which cut out the muffler and let the raw exhaust bypass it. That made a great noise; it sounded tough!
Dad used the Model T to carry firewood in the backseat to fire up the Gaar-Scott before daylight at threshing time. One such early morning a big black man came out of the burned ashes of yesterday’s burned straw stack, saying, “I done borrowed your blanket, boss.” Dad probably took him to breakfast and offered him a job.
As a little boy I was thrilled by engines and cars (but not by horses). Dad asked me to turn on the lights. I said “something ran up between my fingers.” The switch had a short and I got a little shock.
That first Model T was savaged, that is, it was taken apart with no finesse. The engine was dismantled to salvage the front wheels and axle to make a horse trailer!
Some years later (1927?) Dad bought a nice little Model T closed-in coupe. He bid on it at Bill Winram’s farm auction, and got stuck with it. It did not have a self-starter, but one time Dad turned on the key and it started without cranking. For a short while we were a two-car family, but the coupe was soon sold again.
The Model T Ford still had a left-hand lever clutch/brake and only two speeds ahead: low and high. Pundits said you “pushed it up hills with your left foot.” The center front pedal was the reverse, and the right was the foot brake.
1926 CHEVROLET SEDAN
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| 1926 Chevrolet Sedan. Dad would probably call this a photo of a nice car with two kids in the way (Murray and Jessie Fraser for scale). |
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| Another 1926 Chevy Sedan, without spoked wheels |
I learned to drive a car and shift gears with the ’26 Chevy – on my Dad’s knee – before I was tall enough to see over the steering wheel. It was a thrill to be allowed to drive it alone to the threshing rig, and bring home some of the hired men who left a loaded rack!
Mother was a very capable woman of many talents, but never drove horses or a car.
Aunt Annie was younger and more adventuresome. She had learned the basics, and had driven the Chevy to our nearest neighbours’, the McKellars. The Chevy had stalled on her and Archie McKellar set up the manual throttle lever on the steering wheel hub. She came home the half-mile down the correction line faster than she wanted, but she remembered “that if I just tramp down on both pedals [the clutch and brake] it would stop” – and it did!
The Chevy had a “splash” engine lubricator, and more than one burned a connecting rod.
One time on the Pembina Hill coming from Rock Lake the engine caught fire. Dad and Jessie threw road dirt and sand on the fire. I was afraid the vacuum tank that held gasoline above the engine would catch fire and explode. I retreated back to stop oncoming traffic.
The wires burned off and the car had to be towed to the garage, but it was fixed.
About 1931, crops were poor, money was scarce, and the ’26 Chevy was rented to a neighbor, Clifford Gorrell and wife Annie. I think they paid $50 for the year.
We never had a car to drive again until 1939.
My Dad sometimes borrowed a 1929 Chevrolet from the Woodward boys, to try to collect some outstanding debts for stallion services through the country.
One wrote a letter of apology for being delinquent: “Ma was in Hospilly, so we had a bad luck.”
I got to drive the ’29 Chevy a bit.
A cousin, Bob Muir, a school teacher, came to visit, driving a new 1934 Plymouth. It was bittersweet to be allowed to drive it home from Pilot Mound.
The Dirty Thirties were too dismal to record. But many people were poor. The store owners were also without a car to drive. We were not alone.
1929 PLYMOUTH SEDAN
By 1939 times were a little better. We bought a 1929 Plymouth sedan, from Les McKay’s garage. Adams had traded it in on a new ’39 Plymouth.
The ’29 Plymouth had been extensively overhauled – new piston rings, valves ground on the four-cylinder engine, new brake shoes for the four-wheel hydraulic brakes. It had a stick shift, four on the floor and directly into the box.
Cost? I think $250 and I suspect Aunt Annie put up much of that.
The occasion was Grandma Fraser’s 90th birthday, and we packed up (no trunk) to drive to Wroxeter, Ontario where Grandma lived with Aunt Jessie and Uncle Joe Lovell.
Dad, Aunt Annie, Jessie and I, and neighbour Hazel Gorrell (who had relatives in the same area) made up the carload.
We set out at 40 mph; over that the engine roared a bit. Somewhere on Hwy. 3 before Morden the engine blew up! A piston had broken and the crankcase blew up. We were towed back to Pilot Mound. Les McKay did a quick rebuild, including a new piston, and a couple of days later we set out again. There was a little knock in the engine and we didn’t drive more than 40 mph. It burned a quart of oil every 75 miles.
A small garage in Wroxeter checked out the knock. He put a piston skirt expander in the new piston, probably the best of the four. The knock remained. We got home without further problems. The ’29 Plymouth lasted through the war years, 1939 to 1945.
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| 1939 postcard from Clear Lake. "Took 2 qts oil at Minnedosa." |
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| 1946. A resourceful Murray Fraser rigs three poles to hoist the engine from the 1929 Plymouth. |
I was discharged from the air force in January of ’46 and stayed home on the farm that year. The RCAF had taught how to rig three poles, and with the fence tightener pulleys I hauled the engine out, and set it upside down on the old seven-bottom plow platform in the yard. With the three main bearing caps off I found the center journal had a wobble, a bent crankshaft. There were no babbit shells that could be replaced.
I filed the three main bearing caps (not a proper overhaul technique) and scraped the caps to close up the shaft clearances, especially the center main. The reassembled and installed four-banger ran with no knock!
Uncle Doug Fraser died in Elrose in the summer of ’46. He was buried in the family plot at Pilot Mound. He was a Forester, and many friends from Elrose came and gave him a great send-off. He was only 74.
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| Hotel Elrose, Saskatchewan, home to Federal Elevator agent Doug Fraser |
He left a will; Hunt and Graber in Elrose were the solicitors. That fall I drove Mother and Dad, and Dwight and Gladys Gorrell to Elrose to settle Uncle Doug’s estate. Gladys had a brother, Len Henning, who farmed in the Elrose area. Friend Ray Henning, Len’s son, ran an elevator in a remote place.
Ray and I went to a wedding dance one night in Kyle. The bride was a sister of my good friend Art Elliott (RCAF Trenton), and it was the custom that a wedding dance was open house for anyone to attend.
Ray said, “Kyle is just a little town, but something always goes on. There will be a fight or whatever.” His prediction was right on. That was the night Torfin Orris fell through the floor into the Hotel cesspool – but that’s another story!
The old Plymouth had a short on the way to Elrose, and I had to bale out all and disconnect the battery under the front floorboards. I jiggled the wire harness to move the hot wire before it burned up.
The only other car problem was a stop at a garage to make some C washers to shim the ends of wooden spokes that were coming loose. I think we had to replace a tire at Elrose. We made it back to Pilot Mound without further incident.
The Plymouth was sold in ’47 or ’48.
1940 FORD SEDAN
Jack Houlden had worked for Canada Packers in wintertime and bought (Dad paid for it) a 1940 Ford Sedan in 1946. It had a flat-head V8 engine.
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| A V8 1940 Ford Sedan |
The shifter lever was a little stick, the size of a pencil, under the steering wheel. The standard shift pattern applied at the end of the horizontal stick. Brake and clutch pedals were conventional. Shifting was very light, easier than automatic sticks. Brakes were hydraulic, on four wheels, new for Fords. Previous Fords had cables, advertised as “the safety of steel from pedal to wheel.” Mileage was maybe 20 miles per gallon.
The windshield – two flat planes – could be cranked out to allow a great blast of air for cooling.
Dad and Mother drove to Ontario in the ’40 Ford. They would have gone through the U.S. on the old #2 Highway, the first transcontinental. It would have been a car ferry across the Straits of Mackinac between Lake Huron and Lake Michigan. Somewhere they got into traffic of three or more lanes. Dad said afterwards, “it was getting on my nerves.” He would have been 70 years old.
Hazel and I borrowed Dad’s ’40 Ford for a week’s holiday at Clear Lake in the summer of ’48. We went dipping in the far side of the lake and got a horrible itch that ducks had brought to the water. We were passing the calamine lotion over the wall of the boarding house. We were getting welts in places where mosquitoes wouldn’t have access!
On leaving, coming down the hill of the escarpment, the brakes failed, but we made it home without incident by using the hand lever emergency brake.
1938 WILLYS
I was discharged from the RCAF in January of 1946 and returned to the farm (33-2-11). I bought some 4’×4’ sheets of war surplus aluminum and made and installed a cab on Dad’s McCormick Deering WD40 diesel tractor.
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| 1946. The pole at left is part of the rig used to hoist the 1929 Plymouth's engine. |
It never made sense to me that farmers would sit on a steel (mostly) tractor seat all day and all week in the dust, wind, heat or cold, then drive to town on Saturday night in a closed-in car (albeit without a heater or air conditioning).
Pictures of that cab probably influenced Jack Shettler to hire me as a toolmaker at MacDonald Brothers Aircraft in April of 1948, as much as a good recommendation from Ron Muir. He had worked at MacDonald’s in wartime and was the instructor in Tool & Die Making at the Manitoba Technical Institute (aka “The Ford School”), where I took Machine Shop and Tool & Die from the fall of ’46 to the spring of ’48.
Hazel and I had found a little bungalow at 230 Parkhill Street in Kirkfield Park, and with a job paying 83¢ an hour, got married on July 9, 1949.
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| We recognize Mom's handwriting. She was running the household already. |
I had bought the ’38 Willys about two weeks before July 9. We were brave or foolhardy – or just in love – to set out on our honeymoon as far as Jasper, Alberta and back.
We stopped overnight at the old home farm, and used my little hand drill as a lathe to re-machine the carburetor float valve and seat. We were not able to buy such parts all across the U.S. and Canada, until we got back to Winnipeg.
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| Honeymoon photo of the '38 Willys - what a romantic! |
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| The blushing bride photobombs another honeymoon picture. |
We had passed a new Studebaker on its side in the ditch between Banff and Jasper. Had it happened a little farther on, it would have been rolling still!
Hazel had a nightmare at Jasper. She woke me up: “Murray, there’s a hole in the road!”
Gas consumption was about 20 mpg to Pilot Mound.
Circa 1949 in the fall, Hazel and I had been out to Pilot Mound. Coming home Sunday night we overtook a stalled Ford 20 or 30 miles out of Winnipeg. A father and his grownup daughter were in the car. They asked us to call them a garage or tow truck. We offered to take the daughter with us, but she declined.
When we reached a phone, no tow truck would go. Likewise with the RCMP. We had little choice but to drive back. This time both were ready to come with us. We drove them to their house in River Heights. I was thinking the man would want to pay something for our trouble. I thought I would say $1.00 would be okay for phone calls and gas. When we let them out at their home, the man said, “Thanks so much. I would like to offer you something for your trouble, but I know you wouldn’t accept it.”
But this is about cars. I was working on the Willys four-cylinder engine (piston rings and valves) in the garage at 230 Parkhill Street. It must have been around the time when Hazel was working at Edwards & McMullen Drafting Service. I was supposed to pick her up and forgot! She came home by bus.
The Willys hung together, and brought Hazel and our first three kids home from hospital: Reid in ’51, Hope in ’53 and Myrna in ’55.
Gas for the Willlys cost about $2 to $3 to fill up. Parking at work was out in a field northeast of the plant, where Hudson’s Bay later built a warehouse. I had used a farm lantern under the hood to keep the engine warm. There were no plug-ins.
But by December of ’57 the Willys had had it.
Hazel’s brother Ed and his wife Phil moved to Charleswood in about 1952. I had helped them move, and crossed the Assiniboine River by ferry to St. Charles Street. I had noticed the big brick house for sale at 86 St. Charles Street (later 400) which we later bought in 1952.
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| '38 Willys with a house behind it. |
1948 FORD SEDAN
Bought December 11, 1953. Price (total) $795.00. $320 cash, $475 financed through General Motors Acceptance Corp. (GMAC).
The $475 was paid at $36.09 per month for 18 months, approximately 35% interest! It was the last car we bought “on time.” Mileage 55,000.
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| 1948 Ford's total cost $795.00. Buying it on time drove Dad nuts - he never did that again. |
It was not the best car to start – we had no garage and plugged in the block heater to a cord through the kitchen’s south window.
Friends Wally Carlson and Fred Pratt, from work, helped me strip the carburetor and distributor. They knew a mechanic at the police garage who overhauled both.
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| '48 Ford with a house behind it. |
He had a story: that the police had complained they lost chases because the ’48 Fords they were driving were too slow. He took them for a ride to prove they were just too scared to drive it full out.
Expenses for May ’59 were $24.45 total: $14 for gas, the balance oil and parts.
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| A gleaming '48 Ford |
I switched off the ignition and coasted to the shoulder of the highway. The car was hot, boiling. I let the engine cool down and hoped it would start, but just got a click from the starter solenoid.
I hitched a ride back to Carman, to the Ford garage. A man came with a tow chain, anti-freeze and oil, but the car still wouldn’t start and it was towed back to Carman. Didn’t have much option but to have a Ford factory rebuilt V8 engine installed. Took the bus to Carman to pick it up. The 65,279 miles on the odometer were reset to zero.
The cost of the factory rebuilt flat head engine was $310.00 installed. Fords generally showed low oil pressure on the gauge, but I thought a rebuilt engine should show a higher reading. I took it to a Ford garage. The mechanic said, “This engine’s got to come out.” The rebuilders sent mechanics to check, and found the bearing shells should have been thicker to correct the clearance on reground crankshaft. Correct shells were installed for no charge.
My log book entry of August ’57 records a trip to St. Laurent Beach. Hazel and I took turns watching the twins, keeping them sheltered from the sun. Hazel, Reid and Hope were in the water. Myrna had stripped off all her clothes and was heading for the water!
The rebuilt engine had 21,104 miles on it.
We had an automatic stoker (used) on the old heating furnace.
The ’48 Ford had an interior hot water heater installed in September ’57 for approximately $11.00.
City water was installed in 86 St. Charles Street on October 15, 1957.
The ’48 Ford used separate frost shields cemented to the inside of the windshield and windows. Electric heat kept the driver’s half of the windshield clear in winter.
May ’58 gas fill ran $2.00 to $3.00. By then there were 26,395 miles on the rebuilt engine. By March ’60 39,270 miles, and in April ’61 50,100 miles.
1955 CADILLAC
By July ’61 Reid was 10, Hope 8, Myrna 6 and twins 4. The ’48 Ford was too small for all 7 of us!
I set out to find a station wagon. I priced a Chevrolet station wagon (used) at a downtown lot. I had checked the Free Press car ads. There was a ’55 Cadillac advertised for $900. The salesman wanted a lot for the Chevy wagon. I protested, saying I could buy a Cadillac for that! He said, “There’s no comparison.”
I said, “I think you’re right,” and bought the Cadillac for $890.
But we kept the ’48 Ford, and referred to the Cadillac as our second car. [Dad also called it "the old girl" - it was high maintenance.] The garage was built in 1961, and, yes, those window mullions are aircraft aluminum.
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| July 1961. The '55 Caddy cost $890. |
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| A new garage to house the '48 Ford and the "second car" |
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| A mint green '55 Cadillac like Dad's -- a showpiece for any Car Guy these days. |
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| '55 Caddy with some kids in front of it, winter of 1961-62. |
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| '55 Caddy with those damn kids still in the way, winter of 1962-63. |
It was hors de combat the day of her driver’s test, so she had to use the ’48 Ford.
Serendipity – she got her licence on a standard (stick shift) which qualified her to drive the 1970 Javelin later on.
Serendipity – she got her licence on a standard (stick shift) which qualified her to drive the 1970 Javelin later on.
But to finish the story of the ’48 Ford. Harry had a gas station on North Main Street and sold used cars on the side. Harry did no clean up – as they came in, so they went out. I traded the ’48 Ford on a 1959 Meteor two-door station wagon in the spring of 1963. Perhaps it had been used by a painter; there was white paint spilled on the floor.
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| Spring of 1963. The station wagon and Caddy take sanctuary from the Sansome Avenue mud. |
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| Look familiar? It should. |
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| A 1959 Ranch Wagon - without kids in front of it. Ours was about this colour, but with white trim and more conventional wheels. |
I had parked the ’48 Ford on a side street just past Harry’s lot. He quoted a price difference for the ’59 wagon. He just looked at the old ’48 and didn’t go near it! It reminded me of a cavalier saying in #6 Bomber Group, 1945: “If it flew in, it’ll fly out!”
The day I brought the ’59 Meteor home, I stopped at Sears, Polo Park to get a washer for a drippy tap. Sears had a double-oven stove on display. We had ordered the same model stove from a catalogue, but it was out of stock. So I bought the double-oven stove. It was a most unusual day to buy a washer, stove, and station wagon!
I don’t seem to have a log book for the ’59 Meteor station wagon. [Perhaps it was left with the car when it was sold to neighbour Frankie Laird.] The car had a stove bolt six cylinder engine with manual transmission, a stick shifter under the steering wheel.
The rear entry had a large window that hinged up, and a fold-down tailgate.
I don’t seem to have a log book for the ’59 Meteor station wagon. [Perhaps it was left with the car when it was sold to neighbour Frankie Laird.] The car had a stove bolt six cylinder engine with manual transmission, a stick shifter under the steering wheel.
The rear entry had a large window that hinged up, and a fold-down tailgate.
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| Tailgate picnic, summer of 1963 |
We built a camper box for the top that had about a 4’×7’ plywood floor.
In 1963, the kids were 12, 10, 8 and 6. We drove to Ontario, taking the north route. It was raining. We stopped to check on a station wagon that had slid off the road. No one was hurt, but it was sobering.
In 1963, the kids were 12, 10, 8 and 6. We drove to Ontario, taking the north route. It was raining. We stopped to check on a station wagon that had slid off the road. No one was hurt, but it was sobering.
Farther on, a long empty logging truck passed us. We were drenched and blinded by the spray. Not long after this scare, another such truck was bearing down on us. I drove faster than I wanted to for about 10 miles until that second truck turned off.
When the kids were back in school that fall, one of them wrote about Daddy racing the truck!
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| Another picnic, in 1966. Note the car-top camper box, fully extended. |
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Well, that's where Dad's manuscript ends. But we well know he had several subsequent vehicles, and remained a Car Guy to the end. His newer cars, it seems to me, never had the character that these earlier ones did.
On October 3, 1966 Dad traded in the Cadillac for a nondescript 1963 Rambler. Seems criminal now, but the Rambler was a modern little car that Mom liked. The Caddy's trade-in value of $685 brought the Rambler's list price of $1785 down to $1100.
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| 1963 Rambler (with kids in front of it, one of whom is standing on her tiptoes to make her twin look even shorter, ahem!) |
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| AMC Rambler -- as stylish as any refrigerator |
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| The old wagon, put out to pasture after the purchase of the new one (at right). It didn't sit for long -- neighbours knew any car from Murray Fraser had been well maintained. |
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| The rather utilitarian Ranch Wagon, a precursor to the soccer mom van. |
The Javelin's price from Pan Am Motors was $2649 (incl. $107 in tax), less $400 for the Rambler.
Neighbours marvelled at how he could nose into Lairds' driveway, then quickly back up across the side street, up the driveway, and land perfectly in the garage in one fell swoop.
| Dad's ability to zoom into the garage backwards impressed Mom enough to film it. |
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| A 1970 Javelin, still looking good |
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| Another 1970 AMC Javelin, rear view |
Another new car purchase was a rather stumpy-looking 1978 AMC Concord. These were built between 1978 and 1983, about six years too many. Dad tortured the salesman by flipping a coin to decide whether to buy it or not. He had ordered it new, but was not obligated because it arrived with a big V8 engine instead of the 6-cylinder Dad had specified. The tan vinyl roof did not help the Concord's appearance; it was no Javelin.
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| An AMC Concord. Dad's was a nice dark green, but sported an unflattering vinyl roof. |
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| Nice colour. The end. |
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| 1985 Chrysler LeBaron GTS, the "star car" |
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| 1991 Buick Regal |
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| October 1999. Dad bids farewell to his Buick Regal, trading it in for a . . . |
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| . . . brand new, 2000 Chevy Impala |
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| Only a Car Guy like Dad would take a photo of the car salesman. Folks, meet Stew, from Murray Chev-Olds. |
* * *
Another co-worker noticed Dad in traffic on Portage Avenue one day, driving the Caddy. When he teased Dad about having such an impressive car, Dad nonchalantly replied that, "Oh, that's the wife's car. You know, for groceries."
One of Dad's favourite car stories was a lesson in customer service. He related it in the family history he penned:
Cousin Gordie Fraser had a story. He was with Frank Beasley to a Mercury-Lincoln dealership in North Dakota. Frank was dressed in overalls and farm getup. A couple of salesmen were drinking coffee and playing cards in a corner. They didn't get up or ask this old farmer, "Would you like to buy a car?"
Frank went to the girl at the cash window and asked her, "If I buy a car here, could you get the commission?"
She protested, "Sir, I'm not a salesperson."
Frank said, "Go ask your boss." She did. It would be okay!
Frank took out the Mercury, then the Lincoln, and brought them back muddy, as it was raining out. He paid cash for the pair.
The lazy salesmen wouldn't need any further reprimand!Dad remained a car enthusiast his entire life. He was delighted to discover a 1956 Caddy at a local car show, in a similar green to his own '55. If anyone could appreciate the effort it takes to keep a car like that on the road, it was Dad.
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| 1 Mint 56, indeed. |
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| Birthday lunch at Green Gates, May 31, 2007. Getting there was half the fun. |
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| Cheers! |
