Written in June 2023
Nearly a hundred years ago in 1926, my father's older brother Walt hand-typed his story of a trip he made with a friend named Fat in a 1919 Ford Model T they purchased for $10.
Uncle Walt in the late 1920's ➡︎
They traveled 690 miles in five days, from Oxford, Massachusetts, to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. They camped out along the way, suffered many punctures, and had lots of interesting experiences.
⬅︎ A new 1919 Ford Model T Sedan
Walt was my favorite uncle. His writing style captivates me, and I want to share his story. But before I present his tale, I provide some background on why he was my favorite uncle. I also relate my most notable memory of him in my mini-story titled, 😲 My Favorite Uncle and His Humongous Whacker 😱.
🚙 Preface 🛞
I recently spent some time going through old photographs on my computer to use for a different missive that I am writing. In the process, I discovered a story written nearly a hundred years ago by my favorite uncle named Walt.
Over 30 years ago, I borrowed an old family album containing Uncle Walt's story. I digitized his hand-typed writings and photographs, and I had totally forgotten that I had them.
The quality of the old digital images is so terrible that his story is extremely difficult to read, so I decided to type a computerized version that is legible.
Digitized copy of page 7 of 11 from Uncle Walt's hand-typed story ➡︎
Uncle Walt wrote about his adventures in July 1926 after he graduated from college in Massachusetts and traveled with a friend in a 1919 Ford to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where they were to begin employment at the Westinghouse Electric Company. He titled his story, From Oxford, MA, to Pittsburgh in a $10 Ford!.
I am fascinated with his story, and even more so by the parlance (phraseology or style) of his writing.
🚙 Prologue 🛞
My father Frank (Dad) was the sixth of eight children, including three older brothers and one younger one. They were raised on a farm near Traverse City, Michigan – the farm that Dad eventually inherited and where my ten younger siblings and I grew up.
May 26, 1914 on the Farm: My Father and His Five Older Siblings
From the Left: Amos, Albert, Walt, Clara, Helen and my father Frank.
(Dorothy and Robert are not yet born.)
Dad never attended college because he had to remain at home to help his father run the farm. His three older brothers left after high school, and at least two of them graduated from college. His younger brother Robert contracted polio when he was young, which left him with a crippled right hand so that it was difficult for him to work on the farm.
1920: Family Portrait of My Father Frank with His Parents and Seven Siblings
Standing: Helen, Amos, Albert, & Clara
Seated: Walt, my grandmother Carrie, Robert, Dorothy, my grandfather Frank L. & my father Frank (Dad)
My father's brother Walt was nine years his senior. Walt received his B.S. degree in electrical engineering from the University of Michigan in 1922 at the age of 19, having started college when he was 15. Walt married in 1930 and lived most of his married life in Houston, Texas.
My mother Leona said, "Walt worked for Westinghouse for 25 years as an electrical engineer. He loved old cars and opened a car dealership for Austin cars when he retired from Westinghouse. Walt was Frank's favorite brother."
Uncle Walt was living in Texas during the few years that I knew him when I was a young child. I normally only saw him in the summers when he visited the farm with his wife and two children. His kids Marjory and Wendell were older than I by ten and six years respectively.
Occasionally, Uncle Walt would come up in the winter to hunt deer with Dad and their brothers. (Much of the protein in our diet on the farm came from wild game my father hunted.)
1948: On a deer hunting trip in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan
From the left: Brothers Albert, Frank (Dad), Robert, and Walt – and a friend Tom – in front of 3 deer
Here are some of the reasons that Uncle Walt was my favorite uncle.
• First: I knew that he was my father's favorite brother, and that my father respected the fact that Walt had obtained an electrical engineering degree.
Although Dad didn't have a college degree himself, he was exceedingly sharp in mathematics. In fact, all of my life – without Dad ever knowing it – I tried to beat him to an answer to math problems that we always did in our heads, and I never once succeeded.
While all of my grades in school were important to him, whenever I brought a report card home, the only grades he seemed to care about were those in math and science.
These were large factors in my decision to pursue my own career as an electrical engineer.
• Second: Uncle Walt was a handsome, well-built man (as was my father).
• Third: Uncle Walt had a very large whacker.
😲 My Favorite Uncle and His Humongous Whacker😱
Before I present the story that Uncle Walt wrote, I want to relate my most memorable experience with him. I was about seven years old during one of Uncle Walt's annual summer visits to the farm from Texas. This would have been around 1948.
My school photo in 1948 at age seven ➡︎
Uncle Walt was standing outdoors near our farm buildings, talking with my Dad and a couple of their brothers. I was hanging around the periphery and listening to every word.
Suddenly, Uncle Walt felt the call of nature, and without further thought, he unzipped his fly, pulled out his whacker and urinated on the ground.
By age seven, I had changed a lot of diapers and seen my younger brothers' penises many times.
I am holding my brother
Frank J in 1948 ➡︎
I had watched from a hiding place behind the barn when Dad brought in a neighbor's bull to service one of our dairy cows.
However, I had never seen the penis of an adult human – especially one from such a well-endowed man!
Understandably, that experience left quite an impression on me!
Note: I purchased the wood carving above on the left in a small village along the Sepik River in Papua New Guinea. They are a very phallocentric society!
Now that you know why Walt was my favorite uncle, read on for the story of his trip in an old 1919 Ford Model T nearly 100 years ago.
🚙 From Oxford, Mass, t0 Pittsburgh, Penna., in a Ten Dollar Ford!, 1926 🛞
Written by my Uncle Walt who was traveling with a friend named ‘Fat’
About the first of May [1926], we were offered the opportunity to buy a Ford touring car, year of 1919, for ten dollars. Since we had both already decided to go down to Pittsburgh to work for the Westinghouse Electric and Manufacturing Co., we concluded that we might as well buy the car and try to make the trip in it.
We took possession of the car about the middle of May and spent all our spare time and a lot of time that wasn’t spare in overhauling it. By Commencement,* it was running in good shape and had covered several hundred miles without serious accident.
* Commencement apparently refers to their college graduation ceremony. The only university that I can find in the vicinity of Oxford, Massachusetts, where the trip starts, is Worcester Polytechnic Institute located in nearby Worcester, MA.
The engine had developed a serious knock which we were unable to locate, but, except for that and a terrible racket in the vicinity of the rear end, the car was apparently alright.
⬅︎ 1922: Walt's graduation photo from the University of Michigan with a B.S. in electrical engineering – four years prior to this trip
Wednesday, July 7, 1926 [Day 1]
The start was made Wednesday morning, July 7, at approximately 8:00 A.M., Eastern Daylight Saving Time [from Oxford, MA, the green icon in the upper right of the map below] after a more or less filling breakfast on the old standbys of bacon and eggs. Coffee was also enjoyed. Mrs. Louise F. Marshall, sister of the larger half of the party, Fat, poured.
I created this map of the car trip from Oxford, MA, (the green icon on the upper right) to Pittsburgh, PA, (the blue icon on the left). The 13 numbered orange icons pinpoint locations mentioned in the story.
Our troubles started in Danielson, Conn. [icon 1] which was the scene of the first puncture. We set to work philosophically, fixing the tire twice as we overlooked one hole in the tube the first time, and then settled back with the idea of rolling several miles at least without interruption. But less than ten minutes later the same tire let go again. The repairs on this tire called forth more profanity than in the case of the first one, but the tire was eventually mended. Imagine our indignation and heated remarks when the same tire let go a third time ten minutes later! After a discussion of ways and means and a prolonged dissertation on the cussedness of tires in general, we relegated the troublemaker to the spare rack and put on the spare. This proved to be the correct solution as the tire was not removed for the rest of the trip.
We breezed along merrily, passing thru Norwich [CT, icon 2] in a cloud of dust and a roar that brought the astonished and somewhat indignant inhabitants to their respective doors. Luckily, the constable was taking his afternoon siesta and, while roused by the noise, was so slow in finding his badge that we were out of range when he was ready for action. So, speeding into the distance, we derisively flapped the loose, rear fender at him and passed from view around a curve! Several short but exceedingly rough detours were encountered in this vicinity and were successfully passed over with the usual rattle of tinwear (i.e., fenders, etc.).
Beyond New London [CT, icon 3] we struck the shore route for New York and decided to stop for dinner. The stop was made without serious difficulty and with only slight apprehension as to whether or not we would ever get the old bus to rolling again or not. We took our hamburg sandwiches leaning against the counter in the most approved nonchalant manner affected by all experienced travelers. It was getting kind of painful to sit down, anyway. After the usual amount of effort, we got the old Ford to howling again, and with the radiator cap pointed west, we jounced on to what the future had in store for us.
The afternoon was passed without any great catastrophe except on one occasion when we passed a collie dog. This dog seemed to be in a festive mood and started to race the bus, and sad as it may be to relate, he beat us badly! This was a severe blow to our self esteem as, up to that time, we had thought that we were really covering ground. The disgusted dog soon quit the race and sought for faster game to try his prowess on.
The fourth and final puncture of the day occurred just beyond Bridgeport [CT, icon 4] and was patiently fixed. From here we ambled on down the Post Road, reaching White Plains [NY, icon 5] at about six o’clock. In the main business section, the engine coughed a few times and floated to the stop belly up, completely dead! Investigation showed that the gas supply had reached and passed the vanishing point. Due to exceedingly fortunate foresight, we were the proud possessors of a gallon can of gas in reserve and with this gas in the tank we were able to prevail on the old car to limp up to the next gas station.
By this time, traveling had become a little tiresome, so recalling a gravel mine we had passed a few miles outside of White Plains, we ate supper and stocked up on supplies for the next morning. We found the aforementioned gravel mine to be a good camping place, mostly for the reason that some previous itinerant camper had built an excellent fireplace and left it for the use of posterity, which included us.
We forthwith gathered wood and assembled some water from the nearby and exceedingly muddy creek. Having made what we hoped were adequate preparations for the next day, we fondled the old crate a bit, taking up the transmission bands a little and making an attempt to repair the spare tire. Soon after dark we turned in, sleeping on the auto cushions. The traffic along the Old Post Road, which ran directly below us, was very heavy and continued thus for several hours as we were able to testify from personal observation.
Soon after getting to bed, we were roused by the flare of a rocket in the air and discovered that a nearby town was staging a somewhat belated fireworks exhibition. All the rockets were plainly visible from where we were, so we enjoyed the show. Judging by the interval between the flash and the retort, the pyrotechnic display was about a mile off, airline.
Our rest was further disturbed as the evening grew on by the advent of several of those social events vulgarly but expressively called “mugging parties.” These aggregations showed more or less interest in our camp, but as we had removed our pants upon retiring, we did not offer to show them the grounds. They finally departed leaving us in sole possession. That night we slept some but not much.
DISTANCE TRAVELED – 175 miles, TIME ON ROAD – 9 hours
Thursday, July 8, 1926 [Day 2]
We awoke at daybreak extremely cold, not to mention hungry. After considerable effort, we got a fire going and eventually the bacon began to fry and appetizing odors began to fill the atmosphere. After considerable argument as to the correct method to bust an egg without getting too much of the shell in the valuable results of the bust, we ate the results of our culinary labors in the most approved camp method – with a jackknife – at the imminent risk of our facial beauty.
The only thing that went wrong with breakfast was the slight miscalculation on our part of how much four cups of water was in the coffee pot, and as a result, the coffee was weaker than the rear end of the old crate. However, we drank all eight cups as it was hot and we had plenty of sugar, even if there was no milk!
THE CAR. As we looked to the countryside and the countryside looked to us.
After a try at dish washing in the muddy creek, which left the dishes at least as dirty as they were before, we twisted the old crate’s tail and again headed west. We landed at Tarrytown [NY, icon 6] just in time to catch the eight o’clock ferry across the Hudson [River] to Nyack [NY].
The crossing was made without incident and we plowed along all morning without trouble of any sort. We soon left New York State behind and entered New Jersey, and bowled along thru the very flat country at top speed.
The coolness of the morning began to wear off as the sun got higher and soon the macadam roads became pretty hot. About one o’clock, a rear tire let go, and so we decided that it was time for dinner anyway and went to eat at a convenient stand nearby. After a more or less satisfactory meal, we returned to the car and investigated the cause of the distressing lack of air in the deflated tire. We found to our surprise and profanely expressed dismay and indignation that the tire had become so hot that the rubber cement holding the patch to the tube had melted, allowing the patch and the tube to separate, thus causing the inconvenient egress of air from the tire. Rather apprehensive of the future if things were to continue thus, we repaired the tire and set on our way once more.
A second and third puncture, occurring in rapid succession, left us tired and exceedingly disgusted, so we began to look for a camp. About six o’clock, we stopped for supper at one of the ever-present roadside stands and made inquiries for a decent camping spot. The owner suggested an old deserted mill a few miles further on, and upon investigation, this proved to be an acceptable place.
The mill was situated on a small brook called Camden Creek and was apparently used at one time for a grist mill as there were several sets of worn out mill stones nearby. The interior of the mill was stripped, however, and the old dam that had at one time stored up water for power purposes was completely destroyed.
We washed up in the stream, which was found on close examination to be very muddy and shallow. Soon after we had arrived, several cars drove up loaded with people clothed for bathing purposes and from that time until dark, the pool below where the dam had stood was filled with bathers. We seriously considered taking a swim with them, but the dirty condition of the water was too much for us. We spent the evening watching the would be aquatic stars making all sorts of dives from the impromptu springboard. Soon after dark, the last of the bathers departed, leaving us in sole possession and we immediately made the best of the opportunity and went to bed.
DISTANCE COVERED – 115 miles, TIME ON ROAD – 6 hours
Friday, July 9, 1926 [Day 3]
We woke in the morning a little after daybreak after a good night’s rest. No trouble at all was experienced from mosquitoes. The reason for this phenomena was, we figured, that the moving water gave them no place to breed. The only other reasons that we could suggest were Walt’s feet and Fat’s well worn briar pipe, either of which were powerful enough to do the trick. We never did settle the argument!
The scarcity of wood made it seem inexpedient to bother about cooking breakfast, so we decided to let it go and began to work on the car in the hope of coaxing another day’s run out of it. To this end, we took up the transmission bands and fixed up the tires as well as possible, and also took up the bearings as the engine had been knocking badly. Having finished this job, Fat, with what he claimed to be commendable foresight for the future, once more proved the old saying that 'where there is no sense, there is no feeling’ by shaving in the cold water in the creek!
It was nearly noon by the time we were ready to start, and to say we were hungry was rather understating the truth of the case. We stopped at a gas station as soon as we could find one for gas and oil, and then stopped at the next town for dinner and to send back postcards. Walt, not being as thick skinned as Fat, got a shave at a barber shop. Having reached a comfortable state of repletion, we started on once more headed for Philly [Philadelphia, PA, icon 7] and the Exposition.*
* The Sesqui-Centennial International Exposition of 1926 was a world's fair in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Its purpose was to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the signing of the United States Declaration of Independence, and the 50th anniversary of the 1876 Centennial Exposition.
We reached the outskirts of Philly about two o’clock and immediately began to find roads that were almighty rough. After bounding a mile or more over cobblestones, we decided then and there that the quicker we got out of Philly, the better for all concerned, the Exposition be hanged!
So we began to try to find our way out of the city without much luck except the roads steadily became worse. It seemed as if those roads had been made too long in the first place, and when they tried to crowd them into the given length, the darn things had wrinkled up like a washboard, only more so!
Finally, after making several inquiries and at last finding two answers that agreed, we bumped along toward the outskirts of Quaker City [PA, icon 8]. The entire distance was passed with continual and heartfelt prayer for the safety of the tires and an examination of said tires about once a block. At last, after several miles, we found the concrete that was our goal and passed out of the city onto a glorious cement road.
For the next several hours, we roared on toward Reading without event worthy of account except the tires becoming suddenly flat on one side in rapid succession in the business section of Pottstown. We fixed these tires under the watchful eyes of the leisure inhabitants who seemed to take us, the car, or the punctures as considerable of a joke, altho none of them appealed to us in that light. We afterward wondered if the town paper had anything in it about the ramshackle Ford with the Massachusetts license and the Worcester Tech* banner on it. Probably that was the first real collegiate Ford that had disrupted the peace and quiet of their fair town since collegiates became official!
* Worcester Tech, short for Worcester Polytechnic Institute (WPI), is a private research university in Worcester, MA, located near Oxford (green dot). Founded in 1865, WPI was one of the United States' first engineering and technology universities.
At any rate, we soon got out of town and went on to Harrisburg [PA, icon 9] without a hitch. We made only the necessary stops for gas and oil and supplies. Just before entering the city of Harrisburg, we stopped and had supper.
At Harrisburg, we first saw the Susquehanna River, which is quite wide and apparently navigable at this point as there were several stern-wheelers puffing up and down the river.
Bridge over the Susquehanna above Harrisburg
As soon as we left the city, we began to follow the river, and as it was nearly dark, started to look for a likely place to camp. At last, about ten miles out, we found the place we were looking for. It was right on the bank of the river, and an open shed, given over to the manufacture of cement blocks, offered shelter in case of rain. We drove the car as far off the road as possible and began to get ready for the night without loss of time.
On the shore of the river, we built a stone fireplace for use in the morning and collected some firewood. Back in the woods on a path, we spread our bunks, and after washing up, went to bed.
While trying to discover a soft spot in a piece of granite, Walt got his foot outside the blanket and immediately made loud and, sad as it may be to relate, somewhat profane remarks. When the smoke had cleared away and a flashlight brought into use, it was discovered that we had bedded down in a patch of nettles!*
* Stinging nettles are a very abundant and under-used superfood that is very easy to identify, if a little painful to collect without gloves. The plant has fine hairs on the leaves and stems that contain irritating chemicals, which are released when the plant comes in contact with the skin.
A prolonged search showed that there were a few square feet available that were not given over to the industry of nettle culture, and on these few square feet we spent the night.
Sleep was not prolonged or very regular as we were unfortunate enough to have the main line of the Pennsy [Pennsylvania Railroad] located beside us. All night long there were freight and passenger trains passing, and every one of them whistled long and loudly for our special benefit.
DISTANCE COVERED – 165 miles, TIME ON ROAD – 8 ½ hours
Saturday, July 10, 1926 [Day 4]
With the advent of morning, we arose and prepared breakfast, eating in a leisurely fashion and waiting for the sun to get high enough so that we could get some pictures. Then, after washing the dishes and fixing those tires that needed it, we started off at about nine o’clock. In order to get a supply of good drinking water, we back-tracked a half mile or more to a spring that had a state certification tag on it and filled up our water bottles.
Fat and Walt at breakfast for two on the Susquehanna River above Harrisburg
We roared on all morning, reaching Lewistown [PA, icon 10] at about noon without any trouble at all. While parked there, a sudden thunder shower occurred that wet down the streets in good shape. After sending off numerous postcards, we again took up the journey, disdaining to eat dinner at any of the Lewistown restaurants as we figured that we would soon find an inviting roadside stand.
We had not gone more than a couple of miles when the rear right tire let go with a report that could only mean a real blowout. Investigation showed that the fender support had been riding on the tire so long that the tread was badly worn and the blowout had ripped the shoe all to thunder. This tire was immediately discarded as it was certainly beyond repair. We found that our best spare tire was flat so decided to repair it, which was accomplished after several tries as the tire seemed to be full of holes and we found them only one at a time. Eventually we started again, stopping at the first stand we came to as we were about famished.
After going about five miles further, it began to rain in earnest and we decided to put on the side curtains. However, a prolonged search failed to locate them, and we came to the conclusion that we must have left them back where the blowout occurred, so we turned back to look for them. After reaching the spot, we searched in vain for the curtains and finally decided that they had either been picked up by a passing auto or that we had left them where we had camped the night before. Pretty well disgusted and considerably wet, we started on once more, and before we had regained our lost ground, had two more punctures. By this time, we were pretty sick of the whole business, but it was too wet to camp, so we pushed on.
At the next town, we stocked up with enough supplies to last for the time being and began to look for some sort of shelter. But in this section of the country, available shelter seemed to be totally lacking and so we kept going. The country began to get pretty hilly, but so far the road had followed the valleys pretty well. As we neared Williamsport [PA], however, the hills began to come thick and fast and we progressed in a series of dashes down one hill to gain momentum for the next. At Hollidaysburg [PA, icon 11], we thought that we had discovered the desired shelter in a horse stall behind a church, but all the walls were full of old lumber, so we kept on.
It soon became dark and it was impossible to see far enough from the road to find shelter. About this time, we began to climb the Cresson Range and soon stopped at a stand for supper and to let the engine cool off a bit. While eating, we decided to keep on all night in the hope of reaching Pittsburgh [PA, blue icon] some time.
We had no more than started again when a machine coming downhill at a tremendous rate came so close to us that we could feel the wheels touch! This was too close for comfort, and after considerable argument, we came to the conclusion that the best thing to do was to drive off the road as soon as possible and sleep in the rear of the car as best we might.
Soon we came to a place were picnic parties had been and, as this seemed to be the best place we would be apt to find, we parked. We slept that night in the car, Walt curled up in the front seat and Fat in back on the seat cushion on top of the trunk. Fat’s feet stuck out in the rain, and by morning were exceedingly damp, but Walt, due to great flexibility, was able to keep more or less dry. Fortunately, there was not much traffic over the road and so we were able to get a little sleep.
DISTANCE COVERED – 150 miles, TIME ON ROAD – 11 ½ hours
Sunday, July 11, 1926 [Day 5]
We awoke about daybreak, and after washing in a nearby stream, we began to think about preparing breakfast. We found, however, that all available wood was saturated with water and that a colony of fleas had decided to get a breakfast at our expense, so we continued onward and upward. Finally, we reached the roof at Summit [PA, icon 12] at a level of 2350 feet. From then on, the road went up and down, passing over two good-sized mountain ranges (the Laurel Range at 2260 feet and the Allegheny Range at 2540 feet). From the top of the Allegheny Range, we obtained a wonderful view of the surrounding country. Several cars were parked here and the occupants were too busy looking over the country below to even notice us.
About this time, people began to notice the Massachusetts license and, after sizing up the car and tentatively detecting the rear plate bearing knocks, partially stripped rear and, leaking head gasket, to say nothing of much racket of indeterminable source, they would nudge their neighbor and both of them would look back and laugh like thunder! We got a great kick out of that until it began to get monotonous!
About eight o’clock, we stopped at a stand for breakfast. Egg sandwiches came at the rate of 25¢ each and coffee at 10¢ a cup!
Finally, about six miles from Wilkinsburg [PA, icon 13]*, we ran up a side road to change clothes to some extent and to wash up and shave. These duties being attended to, we continued, arriving at Wilkinsburg at about 11:40 E.D.S.T. We found Lew just getting up, and with his help located a passable room at 840 South Ave.
* Wilkinsburg is a subsidiary of Pittsburgh, and is located on its eastern side. There were many branches of Westinghouse Electric and Manufacturing Co. in its vicinity – the company Walt and Fat were going to work for.
DISTANCE COVERED – 75 miles, TIME ON ROAD – 5 hours
And thus ended one of the most precarious trips ever attempted!!!!
Photo page from Walt's story
********** FINIS **********
🚙 Epilogue 🛞
I have a confession to make. Over thirty years ago, when I digitized the pages of an old photo album containing the story of Uncle Walt's trip in his $10 Ford, I believed that he was the author.
I received the album in the early 1990's along with other material from his daughter Marjory who was living in Texas. I hadn't seen Marjory since 1945 when I was four years old and she was 14 – at least, that is date of the last photo that I have of her when she was visiting Michigan.
August 1945: My Grandfather (Grandpa) with his Grandchildren at a Picnic in Michigan
From the left are Walt's son Wendell, Vivian, Barbara (myself in the red rectangle), my brother Gary, Grandpa holding Irma and my sister Elaine, Walt's daughter Marjorie holding Donald, Julius, and Carolyn
The poorly digitized pages of Uncle Walt's story are barely legible. When I recently typed them into a document on my computer, I had to really work to discern what some of the words are.
As I was typing, it was not until I was halfway through (on page 6 of 12 pages) that the name of Fat's traveling companion appeared. As best I could make it out, it was spelled as Lew. The name Lew appeared five more time before the end of the story. At the end of the writing, the name Walt appeared for the only time, referring to a friend that Lew and Fat met when they arrived on the outskirts of Pittsburgh.
This discovery made me realize that my Uncle Walt had not written about the adventure in the old Ford, but instead, it must have been written by a friend of his named Lew. I also had never heard about Uncle Walt attending any other university after he graduated with his electrical engineering degree from the University of Michigan in 1922. The Commencement referred to in the story must have been the graduation of Walt's friends.
I had been told by my mother, and I learned from reading Uncle Walt's obituary, that Walt had worked for Westinghouse Electric throughout his career. It makes sense that Walt started out with Westinghouse in the Pittsburgh area, which is not far from the University of Michigan, and then moved to a company branch in Texas a few years later.
I next closely examined another old, undated photo purported to be of Walt and some guys around an old car.
Walt and Five Men Around an Old Car in the Late 1920's (?)
This is my best interpretation of the writing on the photo
Left: Alva W. Merritt, U. of Minnesota, '22 E
Second from Left: Wm C. Reading, U. of Minnesota
Upper Center: Walter P. Kroupa [Walt], U. of Michigan, '24 E
Lower Center: Lewis [Lew] Richmond, Worcester Tech, '26 E
Second from Right: Merle Watson, U. of Michigan, '24 E
Right: Wallace [Fat] H. Tucker, Worcester Tech, '26 E
I realized that the car closely resembled the 1919 Ford Model T from the story. When I blew up the photo, I could finally make out the writing on it which gave each guy's name, the university he attended and the year he apparently graduated. There is an E written after each year, presumably standing for Engineering.
The only two guys in the photograph that have Worcester Tech listed under their names are Lew and Fat. I can only conclude that the photo was probably taken of Walt and other engineers who were all working at Westinghouse Electric near Pittsburgh in the summer of 1926 or later. The car, on close examination and comparison with photos (online and from the album), appears to be a 1919 Ford Model T, and must be the one Walt's friends Lew and Fat drove from Worcester, MA. Since Fat appears to be much heavier than in the photo taken during the car trip, I would guess that the above photo was taken in 1927 or later.
There is no one in my family who can verify any of this for me. My parents and their siblings have all passed. Even Walt's children Marjory and Wendell are no longer alive.
I chose to tell Uncle Walt's story as I have always believed it to be true – that he experienced the car trip and wrote his story about it. However, the honesty that my parents instilled in me requires that I confess to my discovery that my beliefs are apparently not correct – and Uncle Walt's friend Lew is the one who made the trip with their friend Fat, and Lew wrote the story.
It is still a great tale!
🚙 Last Words 🛞
When I was nine years old, Uncle Walt died prematurely during an operation in 1950 in Corpus Christi, Texas, at 48 years of age. My mother Leona said, "Walt had a tumor in his pituitary gland. His head was shaved and he had radiation, but nothing helped him."
Leona continued, "Not long before he died, he wrote to your father Frank, and said he wanted to go moose hunting in Montana with him that fall."
The End to
🚙 From Oxford, MA, to Pittsburgh, Penna., in a Ten Dollar Ford! 🛞
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