First remembered car. My Dads 39 Packard Salon. Was a rich mans car in 39. In 1949 when I was four years old it was just a used car. Straight eight engine. A spare tire built into each front fender. and fold down seats behind the front seat. All four of us kids could set in the back and play games when we traveled. Dad traded the Packard in on a 52 Chrylser in 1955, That started my Dad's affair with Chrylser products. He stuck with Chrylser's the rest of his life. In those days you were a Chey man, a ford man, a Chrylser mant, a Oldsmobile man, In every barber shop in every small town the men argued about which car was the best.

 

Dad's '49 Nash convertible. Red with white interior.

After that was a green Nash 4 door, more of a family car. Sloped back cigar shaped car similar tot he Hudson of about the same vintage.

Then he moved on the Chrysler products.

Thing that sticks in my mind about those cars the most, other than the car itself, was the 'spinners'. The steering wheel ***** that made it easier to turn the wheel, prior to 'power steering'.

 

My Grand father had a Lincoln Zephyr.When my father returned from WW II he couldn't afford a Lincoln so he bought a 49 Mercury. I have no idea how much those things weigh, but it was a tank. Black with green interior, 3 on the tree, If memory serves me correctly he traded it for a two tone 53 Mercury beige with Green top.

But to stay on topic, my next door neighbor had a White 53 Olds [I believe 88] that she drove dailey way up into the early seventies.

After the war all of the veterans could purchase extra work clothes [BDU's etc]from their branch of service. So on Saturdays when men were cutting grass and working around the house, you could tell if they served in the Army, Navy, Marines by their work clothes [no there wasn't any seperate Air Force in WW II it was the ole Army Air Corps]

Unfortunately, a childhood friend of mine's father wasn't so lucky as to work around the house. He was called into active duty from the Reserves during "The Korean Police Action" and was killed when his plane was shot down in that God Forsaken place.

So during the fifties, I spent a good deal of time listenng to members of what Tom Brocaw refered to as "The Greatest Generation" telling us about their adventures in places with strange names like Iwo Jima, St. Mere Egles, and Bastogne. And every attic had a foot locker in it brimming with suveniors from their time away from home that we periodically secretly searched through on rainy days.

Dad use to say, If you would have offered every man returning from the war a job paying $10,000 a year for the rest of his life you could have hired eveyone one of them and they would have been very happy.

I still own his first house which he paid $18,000 for in 1952.

 

I remember my Dad's '51 Olds 88 2dr sedan.I remember it was seafoam green with grey interior. I can't say if it was new or used, but I was around 4 and my Dad just had dual exhaust put on and was showing it to somebody. I remeber the new chrome tips, as I stood there with my Dad and his friend, I started to walk over to the car, and just as my Dad said don't touch, HOT, I grabbed the chrome tip. I learned from then on not to touch.

Gene

 

My mother had an expression for that.

"If you won't listen...........................you must feel."

 

Great stories all. I am leaving on my oddessy to pick up my 48 Olds on Tuesday starting in Tulsa OK, then stopping to Se Dan in Lees Simmit MO on the following Saturday. I will from time to time im my travels add to this post with stories about growing up with cars in the fifties and will enjoy your additions to the thread just as I enjoy all of the Growing up in the 60's communications. See you all on the road

 

After the 52 my dad bought a 55 Chrylser Windsor 2 door hardtop with small V8, white body blue top. The automatic was a small lever on left side of the dash, because it was a 3 speed it could beat the chevy powerglides off the line but by high gear they blew by dad. This was the car I would borrow from mom to take girls on dates rather then drive my 48 ford truck. The girls did not like the truck except to ride home from school. Because of my December birthday I was the first Sophmore to have a drivers license, so I was popular until the girls discovered juniors and seniors then none of us could hardly buy a date. Got a lot better in the junior year.

 

My uncle Al returned from the war in France to Georgia to begin a career as a commercial artist, marry and begin a family. He was a jocular friendly fellow who loved to play golf and kid with the children.

Later in life I would learn, he had landed as an engineer attached to a rife company June 6, 1944 on Bloody Omaha. His job as an engineer was to assemble links of Bangalore torpedoes, pushes them though the maze of barbed wire and detonate them to clear the way for our soldiers to allow them to get off the beach.

Although his life seemed quite normal, he had brought home some memories. His early dawn arrival at Normandy in an LST was the last time he saw the ocean or sand. He flatly refused to go a beach, any beach; ever He wanted no part of it. The memories must have been too horrific.

Many years later, I would be fortunate enough to stand on Omaha Beach and later the same day visit the American Cemetery on the bluff. The next morning, at dawn, I visited Pointe du Hoc and peered 100 feet down the steep cliffs the Rangers climbed. It is impossible for me to comprehend how they managed it. It was one of the most moving moments of my life.

In our neighborhood, the fifties were filled with young men returning from an unbelievable experience, and few spoke much about it. One way or another, life moved on, only one I knew well, lived out his remaining days, without ever enjoying a vacation at the beach.

 

The only time my uncles ever talked about WWII was around the new year when we had the family reunion dinner at one of the uncles houses. The oldest, Pug was in a elite unit that scouted behind the Germen lines. These guys had to know the local laguage in my uncles case it was French and they dressed like the locals. I was maybe 7-8 years old and all of the uncles would stand be in either the garage or in the basement and they would talk to each other abut their war expereiences. They never noticed me, I would sit in the corner and just listen. These were the only times they would talk about the war. My Uncle Jack and his brother Var both ellisted in the Navy the both drove landing craft at Normandy. My dad worked for a Contractor in Saint Paul and was trained in radar installation and connection of Radar. He worked with the Core of Engineers and installed all of the radar in Islands between Alaska and Russia and later took them down when we thought Japan was going to invade the United States. He was never drafted because of this, and was not allowed to talk about it until well after the Korean War. Jane and I went to England 5 years ago and the older people still remember the americans as heros.

 

Only thing I found wrong in this one was a 60's
Camaro at the drag strip

http://thefiftiesandsixties.com/grow...thefifties.htm

 

Great film creek and all true. I feel lucky to have been there

 

Thanksgiving was another holiday that was cause for the whole extended family to get together. It was always at my grandparents house and everyone brought something. Remember these; greenbean casserole, jello salad with fruit, pecan pie, apple pie, punkin pie. We would all eat until we could not stand up. After the dinner it was horse shoes, touch football (the touching was more like full body contact). The punch bowl was always spiked. My Uncle Var had a 57 Olds coup with the J2 Option, Silver boy was it fast took all of us kids for a ride. What fun, sure miss those times

 

Every Thanksgiving I was in awe of how my mother got the cranberry sauce into the perfect shape of a cylinder

 

I wondered how she got it out of the can intact with those stripes still around the middle.

The same thing with the nutbread she made every year in tin cans for Christmas, probably the ones from the cranberry sauce.

 

Yesterday a local talk show host mentioned something I haven't thought of in years [and naturally I can remeber what the TV show was]

Basically it was a 50's kids show that you bought a kit to go with the show. The kit had some kind of plastic you stuck to the TV screen and could draw on with a marker.

If memory searves me right [after 50 + years] The TV charachter would need your assistance. So for example if he came to a river, you could draw a bridge over the river on the plastic and he could cross.

Does anyone remember what the heck I trying to describe?

 

Jamesbro I do remember those and actually mentioned it to my kids not too long ago. I don't remember the show but I had one. We got a TV about 1952 (I don't know how) and the first station on in north Louisiana was a UHF station which was channel 43. Shortly thereafter, channel 8 came on the air and is still on today. My brother and I used to watch Crusader Rabbit in the afternoon. It was an animated carton and the creator went on to do Bullwinkle. Until the internet came along my wife did not believe it actually had existed. I have a VHS tape of several episodes which I need to transfer to DVD. The only other thing I saw incorrect in the movie was the paint schemes of some of the cars and they were nicer than what most of us had although I did not have me first car (1940 Ford with a 265 Chevy) until my senior year in high school (1963-64). Now you guys do the math and figure I and 62 and the first year of the boomers. As I tell my wife, You can't go back and live in the 50's and 60's but I sure love visiting.

 

I've been Googling up "inter active 50's TV" And I think this is it. Glad to know I haven't lost my marbles [although I can hide my own Easter Eggs]

 

We can only imagine what sorts of hell guys like this went through to leave such a lasting scar.

 

All of the men and women who served during WWII are in there 80's at least and we are losing them at a horrific rate. In my family and my wifes family only her dad is still alive. We sure owe them a lot for the service they gave to our county. When you see a veteran of any of our wars say thanks its the least we can do

Pat

 

If you have not read the Greatest Generation, I encourage you to do so. It is not a book you have to read from cover to cover. Each chapter is about the life of one member of this generation. Look around at some of the kids today in their late teens and early twenties and think about them doing what these guys did. My Dad and three of this brothers plus his oldest sister were all in WWII. My Dad passed away in 1987 and I never sat down and talked with him about the war. I will never quit regretting that. And guys, when you see somebody in uniform, tell them you appreciate their service and if you a have the chance, pick up the tab for their meal. It is cheap price to pay for our freedom.

 

X 2

Great book

 

I'll get the book, thanks for the heads up. If I see a person in uniform in a line behind me I will have him/her take my place, when I do this I have noticed it starts a chain reaction and before you know it he/she has moved up to the front of the line. When people are remined most will respond. It's a shame that they have to be jolted to remember that the people in uniform are protecting our freedoms.

 

Christmas got me to thinking about my childhood. When I was young my mom would take me to Seattle to the Fredrick and Nelson store to meet Santa Claus. She did not drive so we took the Greyhound bus from Bothell to Seattle, mom would always dress up for this trip, including fancy dress, gloves, hat, and coat. After visiting Sants and getting my picture taken she would take me to Woolworths to eat at the lunch counter. I always had the same thing melted chees sandwhich with Campbels chicken noodle soup. The soup was heated in a metal cup on the special Campbels soup heater. Then we would go look at all of the store windows which were all decorated with christmas scenes. Then home on the bus and finish the day with hot cocoa and christmas cookies. It was a special time with just my mom and I.

 

Dear Santa,

P-L-E-A-S-E

I want another Red Ryder just like the one you gave me 50 years ago.
I promise to take better care of it than I did the first one.

I promise, really

Insted of cookies, I baked you some "60's Brownies" to enjoy with your milk.

Jamesbo

 

I have a Red Ryder Daisy BB gun