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Starting 1953 with an Allstate Engine Under the Hood and Allstate Gas in the Tank

The name “Allstate” likely makes you think of the insurance company that was founded in 1931 by Sears, Roebuck and Co., but Sears also applied the brand to a wide variety of car parts and accessories. The ubiquitous Allstate brand was even applied to rebuilt engines as seen in this 1953 advertisement with advice for starting the new year . . .

. . . . as well as gasoline as seen in this 1952 advertisement:

The Allstate brand came into existence in 1925 as the result of a name-finding contest that generated a massive response from the public. The name being sought was for a new Sears tire, and nearly one million entrants provided over two million suggestions. An army of mail openers was required to process the mountain of mail that flowed in from every state in the union and around the world, written in 25 different languages. Twenty-year-old Hans Simonson of Bismark, North Dakota, dreamed up the winning name of “Allstate,” and was rewarded with the first prize of $5,000. The clipping below shows Simonson on the right above a photo of the mail sorters sifting through the contest entries.

In addition to the many Allstate parts and accessories, Sears slapped the Allstate brand on an entire automobile in 1952. Manufactured by Kaiser-Fraser, the Allstate was a revamped Henry J and was offered in two lines with the same 4-cylinder and 6-cylinder engines that also powered the Henry J. The Allstate’s grille was somewhat different and featured two horizontal bars as seen in the photo below. Notice also the Allstate badge on this survivor on display at Pioneer Village in Minden, Nebraska:

Despite being the lowest-priced full-size sedan in the country and going 30-35 miles per gallon, the Allstate was not popular with the car-buying public and was only produced in 1952 and 1953. The insurance company, no longer owned by Sears, is all that remains of the Allstate brand.

1952 Allstate
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A Race Filled with Legends

This marvelous graphic from the November 23, 1924, Pomona Bulletin shows the favorites going into that year’s Thanksgiving Day race at Ascot:

On the left is legendary Erwin “Cannon Ball” Baker, the inspiration for the Cannonball Run. Baker set many records for cross-country rides in the early years of the 1900s including a 1914 sprint from San Diego to New York, made on Indian motorcycle in just eleven days. For the Ascot race, Baker was driving a stock Jewett. The man in the center, Cliff Bergere, had a side gig as a Hollywood stuntman and participated in 16 Indy 500 races including the 1941 race in which he went the distance without a single pit stop. He also served during World War II and was a major in the US Army upon discharge. Bergere was driving for Deusenberg, and so was the man on the right, Frank Lockhart. Dubbed “The Boy Wonder,” Lockhart was a talented and innovative racer and Indy winner who met a tragic end at Daytona Beach in 1928 while making a run at the land speed record in a Stutz Black Hawk Special. Incredibly, video of the crash, blamed on tire failure, can be found here on YouTube.

There was another familiar name there for that Thanksgiving Day race, and just look at this colorful write-up about him:

There were 43 starters in all that day, driving approximately 250 miles before a crowd of 50,000 that included celebrities like Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks. The victory went to Lockhart who slid into first place on the 31st lap and drove a masterful race, finishing in 3 hours, 21 minutes and 40 seconds. He made only one stop with 25 miles to go, and that was to lighten his load by ditching his mechanic. This photo of the action appeared in the LA Times:

The caption above the photo reads, “Photo shows Frank Lockhart, driving his No. 27 Duesenberg, coming down one of the sharp turns with C. A. Chamberlain, at the wheel of the No. 25 Chrysler, close behind. Lockhart, whose speed on the turns won him the race, almost got ruined in this particular instance as Chamberlain was hot on his trail. Inset shows “The Boy Wonder” as he finished the race.”

Cannon Ball Baker had tire problems but managed to cross the finish line on a rim exactly four minutes after Lockhart to take second place. Bergere finished ninth. Unfortunately, there was no mention of what happened to Nebraska’s Noel Bullock, but you can read more about him here: Bullock, Garrett, and the Franklin Mile Speedway: The “Real Stuff” of Nebraska Racing History

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A Dictator on Ice

So many fun, and occasionally dangerous, advertising gimmicks were utilized in the early years of the automobile industry. This innovative approach from Blue Sunoco Fuel and Studebaker appeared in December of 1933 and featured an ice-covered Studebaker Dictator:

Here in Nebraska, it is not unusual for an automobile to look like an iceberg on wheels when left outside during wintry conditions, but this Studebaker was a brand-new car, driven right off the production line and into the plant’s refrigeration room. There, with Blue Sunoco fuel in the tank and Sunoco motor oil in the crankcase, the car was loaded down with huge cakes of ice. Then the temperature of the room was brought down to 20 degrees below zero and a wind machine, blowing at a rate of 50 mph, sprayed water on the ice-covered car. In this frigid state, the car was left to sit for almost 48 hours.

During the above process, one window of the car was left open. This enabled one Miss Eloise Metz of South Bend, wearing layers of warm clothing, to be placed through the open window along with heating pads and hot coffee. Once she was ensconced in the ice-laden car, that window was sealed tightly with ice. Then the car was towed to the business center of South Bend where a large crowd and several timekeepers had gathered. Miss Metz was told to start that frozen car, and start it did, taking only three-fifths of a second to do so.

That seems like a fairly effective marketing technique. One has to question the approach of christening the car with the distinctly un-American name of “Dictator” in the first place, however. I have heard it said that the term “Dictator” was chosen because it meant that the car was dictating the standard for the industry, but then why were the other cars in the Studebaker stable called the President and the Commander? Also, check out the caption under this 1934 photo:

That relaxed attitude toward authoritarianism did not last long with Stalin, Mussolini, and Hitler operating nefariously on the international stage, and people soon realized the Studebaker wasn’t the only dictator that should be put on ice. The Dictator name did not age well, and the Studebaker company quietly retired it a couple of years later.

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Another Mystery Car Part (Hint: It Is Not Made by Mercedes)

Do you recognize this emblem?

This three-point star measures three and one-half inches in width and, although it bears a strong resemblance, it is not a Mercedes emblem. A helpful seller recently listed this full set of six, complete with original packaging and part number, on eBay.

These stars were an accessory “star ornamentation” sold by Ford in the 1950s. The back side of the packaging contains the following installation instructions:

Studebaker made a similar tri-star emblem in 1953, although the Studebaker version is considerably larger at around 9″ in width.

I don’t how many Ford owners would be comfortable drilling a total of twelve holes in the fenders of their car just to add these stars, but that may be why I have never seen any actually mounted on an automobile. If you have one, send me a photo at americancarhistorian@gmail.com.

Nebraska State Patrol’s 1950 Ford
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The Other Highlander and David A. Wallace

We picked up this seldom-seen Highlander emblem the other day, and despite the name, it has nothing to do with Toyota. The lower part of the emblem reads “New Yorker, ” and that gives away its origins as a Chrysler product. Introduced in 1940, Chrysler also referred to the Highlander as the “Scottie,” and described it as “another notable contribution to advanced, original and swanky automobile styling.”

The Highlander featured Scotch tartan plaid upholstery on the pleated seat cushions and seat backs and matching moleskin leather on door panels, armrests and other trim. This 1940 advertisement gives you an idea what that combination looks like:

The Highlander was the creation of Chrysler president David A. Wallace who, like Walter P. Chrysler himself, was born in rural Kansas. While Chrysler hailed from Ellis, Wallace was born in Castleton in 1887. A 1940 story about Wallace in the Detroit Free Press included an interview with Wallace’s first employer, the owner of the hardware store in Castleton. Wallace worked seven hours a day at the store and also lived with the owner’s family. The owner remembered Wallace as a hard worker who pitched in to help with all the farm chores without being asked.

The similarities with Walter P. Chrysler continued as Wallace’s next step was going to work for the railroad. After that, he gathered more experience in automobile manufacturing and mining before manufacturing tractors for Hart-Parr. When the war started, Wallace served in the motor transport service of the Army where he was ultimately promoted to captain. As a matter of fact, Wallace was promoted everywhere he went, a testament to his skills and work ethic. After the war he went to work for John Deere where he started as a mechanic and was promoted to superintendent. This is when he came to the attention of the Chrysler Corporation. Wallace went to work for Chrysler in 1929 as a staff master mechanic and was quickly promoted to vice-president of Chrysler’s manufacturing division. He was made president of that division in 1937 and held that position until his retirement in 1953.

Wallace’s extensive experience in manufacturing served him well, and he developed a method of superfinishing bearing surfaces so that defects were no more than two-millionth of an inch. The talented Mr. Wallace held around 70 patents in all. He must have also harbored an affection for his Scottish ancestry, and so it only seems right to end this post with a quote from another Wallace, specifically Malcolm Wallace from the movie Braveheart.

“I know you can fight. But it’s our wits that make us men.”

David Wallace clearly had plenty of those.

The Highlander was brought back post-war; this picture is taken from the 1953 Chrysler brochure.

More about Walter P. Chrysler: Revisiting Walter P. Chrysler’s Boyhood in Ellis, Kansas

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Veterans Day 2023 – Remembering Eddie Rickenbacker

This captioned photo of ace pilot Eddie Rickenbacker appeared in the November 16, 1918, issue of the Honolulu Star Bulletin. Note that the caption describes him as, “First automobile racer to enlist.” Captain Rickenbacker was one of the best-known racers in America when he joined the army a month after the United States entered World War I in April of 1917. He became an aircraft fighter ace and, by the end of the war, had shot down 26 enemy planes. That record made him the number one American ace of the war, but just one of the many “car guys” that made immeasurable contributions to the war effort.

“Captain Eddie Rickenbacker, American Ace, in aeroplane. France. Spad XIII.” 1918. III-SC-50127. National Archives Identifier: 86706270.

Thank you to all who serve.

If you are interested in reading more:

Rickenbacker Radiator Badge

Rickenbacker Sales Brochure

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The Regal “Plugger”

The Regal Motor Car Company built automobiles from 1907 to 1918, and the Regal is probably best known for its record setting trip from New York to San Francisco in 1909. The trip was made by the first 1910 Regal “30” built, and this dependable mid-sized automobile was christened the “Plugger.” The Plugger left New York City at noon on July 5, 1909, and rolled into San Francisco exactly 30 days and 4031.8 miles later.

Once that run was finished, the Plugger racked up tens of thousands of miles more touring the country. These road trips are fairly well documented, but I did find one terrifying incident that occurred along the trip that isn’t much talked about. In June of 1910, the Plugger reached Missouri just as the area was experiencing torrential rains and flooding. Swollen streams had wreaked havoc on already questionable bridges, carrying some away and leaving others in a shaky condition. As the Plugger, piloted by R. W. Dean and Lee Cuson, approached the bridge at St. Charles, they discovered it to be in a dilapidated state. Some horse-drawn carriages had just made it across safely, however, so the men decided to attempt the crossing. This proved to be a terrible mistake as the planking gave way and the Plugger and its occupants were plunged into the Missouri River.

The car was completely submerged, but Cuson and Dean managed to swim to shore. A derrick was working on a nearby bridge, and the manager was convinced to bring his operation to where the Plugger went down. After two hours, the Plugger was finally resurrected from its watery grave, and the boys were able to dry it out and continue on.

When it rolled into the 1911 St. Louis auto show, it had been on the road continuously since first leaving the factory. Among the 150 or so shiny and show-ready automobiles, the Plugger pulled into its berth at the show covered in dried mud, road dust and stickers from “every crossroad and hamlet” it had visited, and it was the car that the crowds flocked around.

Motorists and onlookers posing with 1910 Regal “Plugger” automobile, 1909 New York to San Francisco tour | DPL DAMS (detroitpubliclibrary.org)

The 1909 trip was quite a feat considering the lack of easily navigable roads. Years later, in 1929, Cuson visited Nebraska and reminisced about the 1909 trip and the state of the roads at that time:

“If there was a square inch of paving in the whole west in those days, we failed to find it. Iowa was a sea of mud . . . Soon after that the route across Nebraska became a winding cow trail and the Regal plunged along like a prairie schooner.”

1907 Regal at Pioneer Village in Minden, Nebraska
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Hamlet of Auto World Haunted By “Ghost Car”

Some headlines are just eye-catching, like this one from a 1920 newspaper:

The first paragraph of the story is just as good:

Somewhere in south Minneapolis there is a “ghost car,” which nightly leaves its last resting place in the vicinity of Lake Street and Seventeenth Avenue South to wander about with rattling bolts and shrieking gears to haunt its former owner.

At least, this was the theory advanced in district court when the owner of the car, one Mr. Winter, was explaining why he should not be held in contempt for failing to disclose the location of a car that he had not yet finished paying for. Winter explained that it was “a ghost of a car” when he purchased it, and after spending many days flat on his back with his eyes glued to the oily dripping insides of the automobile, he gave up and abandoned it near the aforementioned location. In response, attorneys for the plaintiff offered witnesses to testify that the car had been seen at night, “wraithlike and wandering as a spirit condemned.” Stranger yet, the witnesses also claimed that it was Mr. Winter the ghostly automobile was carrying from place to place.

The case was dismissed with no prejudice until the car could actually be found.

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A Faded Advertisement for Goodrich Tires

See the circular image on the left side of this photo of an old block building? It is the ghostly remains of a painting of an early automobile tire. Taking the entire wall into account, it looks like it once read, “Goodrich Tires,” followed by the slogan, “Best in the Long Run.”

Goodrich used this slogan for many years. The earliest appearance I could find in newspapers was 1910, and it was used at least as late as the 1950s. This neat old building with the faded slogan is located in Scandia, Kansas. A quick search of newspapers from that era suggests it may have been Preble’s Garage. This ad is from 1920:

It looks like Preble’s Garage also sold White Eagle Gas at one time. Just imagine this building with the White Eagle pump out front!

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An Aristocrat at Old Trusty

We attended the annual Old Trusty Antique & Collectors Show a couple of weekends ago and were surprised to see this rare Empire sitting among the classics. Unfortunately, there was no one hovering around it that I could question, so I have no idea where it originated from or how it came to be in Clay Center; I only know it was there and it was amazing.

The Empire Automobile Company was founded in 1909 by a small group of Indianapolis businessmen. Three of these men, Arthur Newby of the National Car Company, Carl Fisher of Prest-O-Lite, and James Allison who later became known for Allison Aircraft, were also involved in the building of a certain famous brick racetrack in that city. On a cold day in December of 1909, the last brick, a gold-plated one, was laid into place, and it was time to prove the new track was a fast one. Many records were broken that day by bigger and more powerful automobiles, but the 4-cylinder Empire did participate in the record setting:

With the founders wanting to focus on the racetrack endeavor, Empire was sold in 1911, went through a reorganization that moved some operations to Pennsylvania, added a 6-cylinder 25-hp Continental engine as an option, and was gone by the time the 1920s rolled around. The Empire at the Old Trusty show looks similar to the drawing featured in this advertisement which provides some detail about the “The Little Aristocrat.”

The upholstery looks original, doesn’t it? Where on earth has this car been?

This was the 41st year for Old Trusty, and it really is a gem of a show with so much to see in terms of antique cars, trucks, tractors, and equipment. Here are photos of a few more things that were part of the show, including a 1966 Plymouth Satellite, a couple of Ford trucks , a canary yellow Model A, a 1912 Excelsior motorcycle, and all manner of military vehicles and engines.

1912 Excelsior