Lost in the 50’s forever
When I was a kid growing up in New York in the late ’50s, it was a really cool time. The airwaves were full of doo-wop, the street corners had singing groups practicing their sweet harmonies, the neighborhoods were full of friendly people and merchants who knew you by name, and the streets were full of cars destined to become classics. How cool is that? And so my love affair with the automobile had begun.
I remember playing dodge ball one day right after the ’57 Chevys were introduced. Well, one of those beauties came in bright red with a white top and my friends and I were like, “Wow, look at those fins!” Little did we know what was in store for us in 1959 when Cadillac came out with the largest fins in history! We sure were careful not to fall into one of those while playing tag in the street. Oh!
Tail fins and 1950s cars just go hand in hand. Almost everyone seemed to have them. Chevy’s and Cadillacs as I already mentioned. Fords had a small one but it was still there. Plymouth and Chrysler Imperials had them. In 1959 we saw Chevy come out with that big bat wing, which was a bit boxy for ’60 and by ’61 the flap era was gone. While it lasted, though, we sure had some terrific designs from Detroit. Giant fins and lots of shiny chrome. A combination that is still sought after today.
Back in the old neighborhood, I remember a guy around the block who had a ’57 Ford retractable hardtop. The gang and I stare wide-eyed as the hardtop slides smoothly into the trunk. Amazing! One minute a hardtop, the next a convertible.
During our frequent intense games of stickball or a good game of “flyes up” (remember that one? Take a Spaulding “pinky” and slam it into the ground right in front of a neighbor’s house wall letting it slam into the wall and jump into the air where a group of boys were waiting anxiously to catch and record him), we watched enviously as older teenagers, boys we thought were “men” by now, drove by in cars from the 1940s and early 1990s 50, all upgraded and burning rubber to impress us boys, and girls of course. And I have to tell you, we were impressed. We envied those guys in the cars with cruiser skirts, continental kits, lake pipes, and Cherry Bomb mufflers. Those lucky guys behind the wheel of a Chevy Belair or a Ford Crestliner or, if you were really lucky, a custom flamed Merc, kept dreaming. My mom didn’t like the look. And now there just isn’t enough hair left to pull off the look, even if she still wanted it.
Yes, those sure were the days. You could buy a Model A for a couple of hundred bucks or less, and not a total beater either. Heck, some were still used as daily drivers. And cars from the late ’30s and ’40s, well, they were everywhere. Many still drive and function like the family car and you could buy one for, by today’s standard, the equivalent of Grand Theft Auto – quite a bargain!
In my mind I can still go back in time and look out the window of our apartment. Hey, look, up the street is my classmate’s grandfather’s brown ’40 Ford coupe parked there. And look across the street: there’s another neighbor’s ’48 Buick, all black and shiny. At the end of the street I can see a two-tone ’55 Dodge and two houses up from where I lived, my friend’s father had a ’57 Cadillac Eldorado Biaritz, a beautiful blue with a brushed metal roof.
They came from one side of the street to the other: Ford, Chevy, Buick, Pontiac, De Soto, Chrysler, Plymouth, Merc and more. A car show every day. And now those beautiful works of art have given way to just the memories along with the Toyotas, Nissans and Hondas now cruising the streets. Fortunately, we have a great and thriving car show culture that keeps things alive and I attend as many as I can along with beautiful die-cast models to display, admire and dream about. Even my son became a car fanatic having a ’57 Chevy, a ’67 Camaro and a ’51 Ford pickup. I guess I raised him right. My diecast collection is over 35 and growing, making it possible to have all the cars I could never afford, helping to keep those childhood dreams alive.
But if I could get into a time machine, I know exactly where I’d go. I’d go back to those days of tail fins and chrome, pompadours and drive-ins, drugstore soda fountains, Peggy Sue, the American Bandstand, and my new transistor radio playing “In The Still of the Night.” What a great time to be alive. Ike was our president and the world was good, at least for us children. Well let me get that comb out of my back pocket, put on some Brylcreem and work on that DA, put the hood down on my Chevy and pick up my best friend Rosie and head to the drive-in. See you there.