Summer 2015

Tin Can Tales

Forrest T Bone Tin Can Tourists Summer 2015 Tin Can Tales Volume XIII, Number 4, Summer 2015 Edition

The Tin Can Tourists is an all make and model vintage trailer and motor coach club. Its goal is to promote and preserve vintage trailers and motor coaches through Gatherings and information exchange.

Official Colors: Black and Tan Official Theme Song: "The More We Get Together" Stated Objective: To Unite Fraternally All Auto Campers Guiding Principles: Clean camps, friendliness among campers, decent behavior and to secure plenty of clean, wholesome entertainment for those in the camps [email protected] or visit www.tincantourists.com Address: 4 High Street Bradenton, Florida 34208 Summer April to October: PO Box 489, Gregory, Michigan 48137

Tin Can Tourists are on Facebook Tin Can Tourists Yahoo forums & member pictures The link below will take you to listings of Official TCT events as well as others that have been submitted by various hosts/sponsors http://www.tincantourists.com/rallyregistration1.php#.Ud17YvmTjZU You can view Tin Can Tourists pictures on Flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/tbone2/sets

Tin Can Tourists: Centennial Celebration 1919 to 2019 Sertoma Youth Ranch - Brooksville Florida - February 18th through 24, 2019 A weeklong celebration packed with historic events. Put the date on your calendar.

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From the Royal Chief

Jeri and I are very excited about participating in the Super Duper Yooper Looper (Michigan’s Upper Peninsulas Caravan). The caravan sold out quickly. Thanks to Brain Quinn, Matt Tomanica, Brandon and Liz Morrison for organizing the caravan. The 18th Annual Gathering was highlighted by an outstanding North American Vintage Trailer and Motor Coach Concours. The entries were as good as it gets and the reaction when the winners were announced touch everyone heart. The pride taken in the restorations was reflected in the smiles and victory dances taken by the award winners. Thanks to Steve Hingtgen of Vintage Trailer Supply for his sponsorship of the awards and the entertainment.

Terry Evans summed up the Annual Gathering experience in a couple of Facebook postings: “Think of how much fun we have had at Camp Dearborn…we first attended in the spring of 2002…have me lots of friends and have had great laughs…the Trailer Trash Party, THE WEDDING, the Hat and Wig Party. Can’t wait until May for the 2015 Spring Gathering, our 13th year and our 26th time at Camp Dearborn…whew, that sounds like a lot!!!

“You know… since we retired our motto has been “if it ain’t fun then we ain’t doing it”. (Attending a TCT Event) is kind of like being in kindergarten when we go to the meet…we each bring a play house and our trucks. We have show and tell for the entire meet, we love being impressed with the skills of others …we share our meals and for a while we get to be kids again…we goof off and play around…forgetting all that grown up crap…work…bills…dr. apt…it is a great time. The only problem is the kindergarten class has gotten huge and we don’t have time to play with everyone. The word is out…the secret “show and tell” party has been revealed. I am glad to hear from new classmates that it’s a great event for them because I don’t get to hang with everyone…we are all in the “cool, in crowd”, aren’t we? Hardy thinks we are in the nerd group and don’t know it. Hardy and Terry were inducted in to the TCT Hall of Fame at the 18th Annual Gathering for their being a great contributor and example of the type of people that have made TCT great and a rewarding experience for the Bone family.

Each year we lose a number of members when dues are due. Although I am sure the reasons for letting their membership lapse vary from individual to individual, my guess that for many the lack of opportunities to attend a TCT event is one of the top reasons. I wish more individuals would take the lead and host events. The “meet up” strategy used by Donna Spinelli is a model many could follow with a minimum of stress. Find a great location, secure a date for the meet-up, notify potential attendees through the TCT website about the site reservations process and advertise the area attractions and activities. Let people make their own reservations and go from there in terms of structure. Do what you’re comfortable with, whether a pot luck, open house, catered meals, day trip, etc. I think except for a few major events, just getting together and enjoying people that love what you love is enough. Safe Travels and Love to all Forrest, Jeri, Terry and Michelle Bone Teresa Baldwin, Texas Representative sent along a brief note on her very successful Texas Spring Meet: We had a great time at our Texas Spring TCT Rally. The rain was unexpected, but much needed. We played Farkle Friday afternoon, followed by a great potluck Friday night. Saturday – the Open House was a big hit. The resort was at capacity and we had a great crowd that toured the trailers. Awards for various categories were handed out on Saturday evening along with door prizes for everyone. Another great job by Teresa and the Texas gang.

There was a nice article on the Vicksburg Festival. The TCT participation is hosted by Ken and Lee Evensen - http://www.mlive.com/news/kalamazoo/index.ssf/2015/06/vicksburg_old_car_festival_fro.html#incar t_email_mobile

The Measures’, Gerry and Sue, hosted another great event in Mission British Columbia for area TCT members.

I read a series from OZY entitled “Trailer Park Nation: A Special OZY Series”. It might be of interest to some of our members. If you think it might be of interest to you, Google it by the title above and “Trailer Park Nation” to view the links to the various segments for the series.

The article below is entitled “From Land Yachts to Trailer Parks: Taking the Wheels off the American Dream In a country as large as the United States, perhaps it was inevitable that the American dream would be conjoined with size and space. But that dream wasn’t always about four-bedroom homes, two-car garages, 60-inch televisions, 48-packs of toilet paper and an avalanche of throw pillows. There was a time when Americans didn’t seek to acquire space, they consumed it — in the form of adventure, mobility, self-sufficiency and striking out across new frontiers. There was a time when a nation raised in Conestoga wagons, one-room cabins and urban slums looked out far more than it looked in. And there was a time when having a trailer meant freedom and possibility more than it did confinement or scorn.

The stigma attached to the trailer park today remains all too real. Mobile homes in America have become synonymous with pink flamingos and chain-smoking teenagers, with rednecks in “wife beater” tank tops and Camaros on cinder blocks, with “trailer trash.” However different the reality — and the history — might be, the stigma dominates the conversation, obscuring the fact that the mobile home’s bumpy journey has always trailed alongside the fortunes of everyday Americans. And if there’s something to be ashamed of, it’s not living in a trailer park, but in a society in which we let our conception of the American dream get so far ahead of the single-wide hitched to its back.

Mobile dwellings may have been touted as “the resort of tomorrow” and “a convenient livable home for today,” but Schult Luxury Liner made clear in its 1945 ad that the manufacturer didn’t actually want people living in its trailers. They were designed to be parked beside breezy ocean fronts and golden mountain ranges, not in dusty, trash-strewn fields.

The first trailer campers, which came out around the turn of the 20th century, were little more than tents nailed to a wooden platform to be hitched behind a Model T. Then in 1910, carmaker Pierce- Arrow debuted the first official motor home. The Touring Landau featured a backseat that folded into a bed, a chamber-pot toilet and a sink. It was called a “land yacht,” a symbol of wealth and mobility. And hewing closely to the popular marketing slogan, “See America First,” thousands of middle-class Americans took to the roads in cramped “travel trailers” and “auto campers” in the 1910s and ’20s bound for exotic destinations like Sarasota, Florida. “America was in love with the freedom,” says John Grissim, author of The Grissim Buyer’s Guide to Manufactured Homes & Land.

But landowners were not in love with the idea of these “tin can tourists” parking on their property and leaving refuse behind. Stories of shotgun-toting farmers began to circulate, and soon enough entrepreneurial landowners had come up with the idea of trailer parks, where for a few dollars you could store your camper, use the outhouse and maybe even get some electricity.

Then the Great Depression of the 1930s hit, and just like that, trailers went from luxury to necessity. Jobless and homeless, people packed their lives into these so-called recreational vehicles, but instead of seeking adventure, they fled drought and despair. Towns and cities quickly countered by banning the use of trailers as housing within city limits and banishing their vagabond inhabitants to flood plains, tornado alleys and the vast, unincorporated outskirts of society, where they still reside today. At the time, people set up in trailers weren’t “much more than today’s homeless living in a refrigerator box,” says historian Al Hesselbart (TCT – Hall of Fame member).

By World War II, trailers had grown tethered to the lower rungs of society, and it wouldn’t be long before returning veterans and the tens of thousands of migrant workers living in makeshift trailer parks would be looking for permanent homes. The problem was there wasn’t anywhere for them to go. New construction had slowed almost to a halt, and there weren’t enough suburban Levittown’s to go around. And despite the efforts of manufacturers like Schult and the iconic Airstream to revive the sense of luxury, leisure and freedom once associated with the trailer, the massive postwar housing shortage dwarfed such appeals. For millions of Americans, life inside the cheap metallic structures — with roofs made of sheet metal and stained canvas — was nothing resembling a holiday.

The inhabitants of the cramped trailers may have assumed the arrangement was temporary — a stepping stone to a firmer foothold in the American dream. The war, however, eventually led to the invention of easy-to-assemble, single- and double-wide manufactured homes. The federal government purchased more than 35,000 of these prefabs, and U.S. consumers could buy a 30-footer for just $3,000. As manufactured homes proliferated, writes Andrew Hurley in Diners, Bowling Alleys and Trailer Parks, the sector diverged from the recreational vehicle market, and those left behind began to feel the sting of their circumstances. By 1965, one out of every 10 newly built homes was mobile — or, as it turned out, not so mobile. The most infamous of these houses-from-a-box was the Lustron, an enameled-steel Space Age contraption in which the only way to hang pictures was by using magnets.

In the 1970s, the industry received a slight makeover. The government established building standards, began offering mortgage insurance and officially rechristened the “mobile home” as a “manufactured house.” This reflected the reality that trailer park residents had become far less mobile than the average American, moving infrequently as the result of depreciation, relocation costs and the overall circumstances of being poor.

Approximately 1-in-5 mobile homes is moved after it has been parked.

Roughly 4 in 5 mobile homes are never moved once they’ve been parked.

Through the 1980s and ’90s, manufactured homes continued to get bigger and better. And today’s parks range from the repositories for stereotypical dilapidated denizens of crime to the millionaire RV lots that dot the coast, like the one in Malibu where Pamela Anderson and Matthew McConaughey shack up (separately). Yet the median income for these households, which are often low- or fixed- income, is still only about half that of families living in other types of housing, adding to the seemingly unshakable stigma. “We’re not fighting a quality problem at this point,” Hesselbart says. “We’re fighting an acceptance and attitude problem.”

But as the history of mobile housing demonstrates, acceptance is often driven more by economic forces than attitude adjustments, and as growing numbers of financially strapped baby boomers retire and millennia’s strike out on their own, affordable housing — regardless of prior stigma — looks increasingly appealing in all its sundry forms. And as more people you know — including, perhaps, your parents and yourself someday — contemplate life in a manufactured housing community, how long before the trailer park is reborn anew as the latest gated community, but one in which livability, simplicity and community are prized once more?

At which point it will finally be time to take out the “trash” from any discussion of trailers, and recognize again that in America, there are no small dreams. Only cozier homes.

Read all of OZY’s seven-part series, Trailer Park Nation: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and 7.

Tin Can Tourists Spring 2015 Gathering By Brian McCool

Poster by Lanny Webb

Individuality. Creativity. Personal expression. Iconic Americana. Preservation. Personal accomplishment. Perfection. What do YOU think of when you think of vintage trailering? All the above? Something completely different? That’s the attraction of the hobby. All of these things and whatever your viewpoint is, were on display in abundance at this springs TCT Spring Rally in Milford this year.

What originally started as a weekend gathering of a few die-hard folks who loved vintage travel trailers and RV’s has grown into a weeklong celebration of Americana, good times, and general foolishness. People started arriving at Camp Dearborn (one of Michigan’s great campgrounds, at least for this weekend!) the weekend before the official start of the rally, and reservations have to made months in advance to ensure a spot at this coveted event.

For many of us, Kim and I included, it means a last minute thrash to complete this years “new” rig. In our case, a mid ’60’s Del-Ray truck camper and ’76 GMC 3500 one ton dually pickup was the cause of sleep deprivation, lack of concentration at work and lawn care that got put on a back burner. The excitement of showing off something new means late nights after work and weekends spent sprucing up a derelict rig and getting ready to show it off at the show. For those of us with less highly developed pack-rat instincts, simply getting the rig out of storage and a good spring cleaning suffice, but once we roll into Milford, it’s all about kicking back, relaxing with old friends, renewing acquaintances, trying to remember all those names, and making new friends.

This year at Thursday’s new member induction ceremony, we thought we saw the most new folks ever. The secret handshake and password were shared, and we all raised our voices in song under the new “Big Tent” for a couple choruses of “The More We Get Together”. Terry and Hardy Evans were this year’s inductees into the TCT Hall of Fame, a well-deserved honor. For those who may not know Hardy and Terry personally, their enthusiasm, talent and eclectic tastes are well documented. Just search “Wayzalot”, watch “RV Crazy”, and you’ll know why these folks were awarded.

Forrest and Jeri, Terry and Michelle were surprised by the presentation of the handmade custom clocks by Kirk MacKellar, so we know that they won’t be late for next year’s event!

Lots of others hard work was mentioned as well, Dan Piper for his organization and participation in the Concourse judging, and Vintage Trailer Supply for sponsoring the awards. Once again Hunt Jones did a presentation on classic American Diners and “road food”. Mike and Courtney Greene were this years “Newly Weds” to remember, and the surprise party for them on the hill will never be forgotten, although some may not remember much of it…

Friday morning’s rain didn’t dampen spirits or enthusiasm, the trek down to the Big Tent got one hot coffee and breakfast. Later that day Hunt Jones scared us all with worries about liability, loss, and the insurance company motto, “Friend or Foe, We Pay No Dough” philosophy, but he countered that with great information about “Agreed Value Insurance” we can all get through FICS Insurance (www.rvadvantage.com). Good friends and TCT members Tim Heintz and Dan Piper can do those needed appraisals. No worries.

Friday night’s entertainment was the TCT’s favorite, “Bugs Beddow”, and he rocked the house with his “big band” trombone driven blues rock sound. Bugs has tentatively committed to come to Florida for the Centennial Celebration in 2019. The “Friday Night Lights” show was the best ever, more and more folks and more technology are lighting up our campers like never before.

Saturday’s weather forecast was a bit ominous, but Forrest Bone’s prediction of “No Rain!” for the TCT Open House was again spot on, as for the fifteenth year in a row, no rain fell during the day. A few of us ventured up to the Flea Market and scored big, and the Open House was well attended as usual. This is not to say that no rain fell SOMETIME during the day, because during that night’s dinner and game night, it rained buckets. A river of water flowed into the Big Tent to wet our shoes, camper roofs that had never leaked, did, and a lot of those that had been “repaired” (ours included) showed their unfortunate owners that they hadn’t really fixed those pesky roof leaks at all.

Why is it that the roof leaks only over the bed?

The streets in the park flooded and actually overflowed, a few hardy TCT’ers had to wade out into knee deep water and unplug drains to get the waters to recede. Others simply partied on up on “The Hill”, and although a few awnings collapsed and “easy-up” shelters went down, spirits stayed up. Later in the evening the rains stopped, or slowed enough, to let people walk around, enjoy each other’s light displays and a libation under the awnings.

Sunday is always a day for packing up and heading out, but again, more and more people are staying over until Monday to extend the weekend. The weather was perfect, and while it’s sad to see our friends pulling out and heading home, it’s only a short time until the fall, and there are so many events, tours, and shows throughout the summer that we’ll soon be together again.

Like they say, “The more we get together, the happier we’ll be!”

Thanks once again to Forrest, Jeri, Terry and Michelle Bone, and to ALL our friends in the TCT who enrich our lives, validate our eccentric behavior and make this weekend the best one of the year!

After dinner, Dan Piper, our Concours Chair announced the winners and awarded plaques for:

Ready to Roll - Reserve 1952 Vagabond Steve Brown & Sandy Mastin

Ready to Roll - Best 1948 Palace Royale Eddie Payne

Silver Palaces - Reserve 1964 Airstream Bambi II Becky Bultema

Silver Palaces - Best 1952 Silver Streak Clipper Todd Emily

Mobile Mansions - Reserve 1985 Airstream Motorhome Tom & Peggy Trueman

Mobile Mansions - Best Peterbuilt Motorhome Speed & Ellen Gray

Tiny & Teardrops - Reserve 1975 Shasta Compact John & Cheryl Rese

Tiny & Teardrops - Best 1963 Comanche Dominic & Laura Bertolini

Tow Trailer Combo - Reserve 1967 Scotsmen/ 1962 Plymouth Savoy Paul Broxon

Tow Trailer Combo - Best 1978 Trillium/1977 VW Westfalia Mark & Jaynmarie Hubanks

Awesome Interiors 1958 Catolac Deville Tom & Linda Lampen

Special Interest- John ""Canner"" Culp" 5' long mini Shasta Don & Pam Starner

The “Owners” Don & Pam’s grandkids accepted the award and were thrilled.

Friday Night Lights 1963 Wolfe Cabover Don Goneczy & Janet Boutilier

One Time Beater Award 1955 Silver Dome Christine Curry One trailer was selected to highlight a camper currently in rough condition that is being lovingly restored and brought back to greatness.

The final award was presented by Forrest Bone to Terry and Hardy Evans as the newest members of The Tin Can Tourists Hall of Fame for their exemplary dedication to TCT.

Thanks to all who volunteered to make this year’s event so successful. Special thanks to The K-Row Klub for set-up, clean-up, and Rally-Pak distribution, Terry and Michelle Bone for minding the store, John Truitt and Terry for photos and Michelle again for keeping our food safe from freeloaders, Forrest and Jeri for organizing it, Steve Hingtgen of Vintage Trailer Supply for sponsoring it, and Ken Hindley (TCT’s Chief Mechanic) for repairing defunct vintage haulers.

Additional photos here: https://www.flickr.com/photos/tbone2/sets/72157652683013250/with/17842707601/

Thanks to Hunt Jones for the Report supplement.

John Truitt – TCT Photographer and Host of both the Port Crescent & Port Sanilac Gathering

The Tin Can Tourists Vintage Village at the Fleetwood Country Cruise In 2015

Ingredients: perfect weather, great friends old and new, awesome vintage rigs and 40 acres of classic cars. Sprinkle in a host of celebrities and place on a picturesque private estate and there you have it a recipe for a perfect TCT weekend! On the first weekend in June TCT members from the USA and Canada gathered at the home of Mr. Steve Plunkett to once again create the TCT Vintage Village, a cross section of some of the most interesting and rare trailers in our club. We were also able to create a display of Airstream across the decades with an Airstream trailer present from the 1950s and decade by decade to the present top of the line Eddie Bauer model. The weekend was made that much more comfortable with the help of Andy and Kirk Thompson, owners of Can Am RV, who graciously supplied us with a huge, new fifth wheel trailer for our Hospitality trailer. We used this for hot showers and as a food prep area. My wife Tina was again, vintage hostess with the mostess and kept us fueled with coffee and continental breakfasts and lunch on Sunday. We had campfires, a catered dinner brought in to our camp and a trip to a great local buffet during our time together. I guarantee no one went hungry. We were greeted by a very enthusiastic audience that was happy to see a group of vintage trailers in the midst of the 5000 plus collector cars that were present. If you thought you needed more fun than that there were always the Amphicar rides and the Helicopter rides. Steve Plunkett's 21M dollar collection of rare Cadillacs is housed in two huge buildings on site and that alone was worth the price of admission. Of course you had to take the time to see the square dancing tractors, the pinstripers, the dozens of vendors and the celebrity guests. Car gurus George Barris and Gene Winfield worked all weekend signing autographs and the high light for many was the cast reunion of the Dukes of Hazzard. Bo and Luke along with the long arm of the law were there for photos and autographs as well. There really was enough to do at this event to keep you busy for a week! Our long distance award of a NUMA propane tester valued at a hundred bucks went to Don and Dawn Hoeh of East Aurora, NY who once again made the trip in their one of a kind completely open 1950's sports car and tent trailer. I hope they made it home this year without any rain! Forrest and Jeri Bone attended this year and it was great to see Ken Hindley back with his impressive rig. Thank you so much to those who attended. Although we had a little less space than last year, it did give a little bit more intimacy to our Vintage Village. Tina and I had a great time and we couldn't ask for a nice bunch of "happy campers" to spend the weekend with. See you down the road.

Your hosts, Michael and Tina Lambert

Facebook Rockstars

You voted for the folks who are most helpful to the TCT Facebook group. We sent them a little something from the TCT for their contributions. You've already sent them a great big thank you with your votes!

Meet Karen Campbell – TCT Southwest Regional Representative What is your name, location and TCT position?

I am Karen Campbell your Tin Can Tourist SW Regional Representative. My husband Kenny and I live in Albuquerque, NM and have a lake house at Elephant Butte, NM, we share with our retired German Shepard service dog-Duke.

What trailer and tow vehicles do you own?

Currently, we are restoring a 1976 23’ GMC shorty motorhome, we bought in Phoenix, AZ Spring of 2014. We have a restored 1958 Jewel 16’ with ½ bath trailer, we use as a guest house. For girl get togethers, I use my 1986 Sunlite Saturn. 13’ with full bath, awning, A/C and sleeps two. To tow the Sunlite, I have a 1995 Ford Sport Trac. When we tow the Jewel, it looks great behind our 1967 F250 truck. For long distant travel (to the East coast) we also have a 2011 Pleasure Way 20’ class B van motorhome.

Where did you find your trailer/tow vehicle?

We find our trailers/tow vehicles everywhere. Years ago, before, the internet was so popular we knocked on doors, and bought several from just asking. Now, we also knock doors if we see something special, but look on line, and from talking to people at shows and events. Sometimes they find us too.

When and who did the restoration?

We first got interested in the trailer hobby about 12 years ago, and have restored or made usable again, 39 trailers since that time. With exception of my 1957 Mobile Scout (just sold) a frame up restoration was done by our friend at Retro Restorations previously in Albuquerque, we have done all the work ourselves. My talented husband, does plumbing, wiring, electrical, and wheel stuff, I do, painting, caulking, upholstery, and everything else. After this GMC motorhome, we are done; this will be our last vintage unit. I say never say never so…..

What is unique or interesting about your trailer?

Our GMC motorhome, is called the “hotrod” of motorhome. Being 23’ long, powered by 455 Olds engine, it floats down the road-rather quickly too. There were only 1100 of these built, most were designed for, airport shuttle use. Many of the 26’ units are still on the road, few of the shorty’s are around today. This one will have all the modern stuff, (TV, micro, air bags, A/C, generator) and the charm of yesterday. Round wood corners, a mint green working refrigerator and stove, gleaming wood walls, ½ bath, and permanent full bed, make our Jewel trailer the perfect little extra guest trailer.

What do you like about vintage trailers?

For me, I like the small easy to tow size of the canned hams. Also the sense that for some reason, this trailer has survived. Most have been exposed to years of being outside and perhaps I can help it, with some work, and preserve if for generations to come. Guess it is its history – which it has been used and loved by others, wishing the walls could talk. Anyone can buy new, but history has no price. Kenny is a totally 1950’s retro type of guy, and he liked pulling one behind his 1957 Ford, to get out of the sun at car shows.

Have you been to many rallies and what do you like about them?

I went to my first rally in 2004. A couple of us had trailers then, and heard that there was going to be Shasta Rally in Taos, NM, about 150 miles north, and we said lets go. Not knowing what to expect, take or plan for. We tow up our trailers, to a rather true vintage trailer park and was met by a frazzled lady almost in tears. She said she had no idea what she had gotten herself into, but could not cope and to please take over this rally. Well, this was our first rally, so we had no idea why she asked us, or what to do, but we said ok. If I remember right we just hung out, looked at trailers and had a good time meeting everyone. Since that time, we co-started the Southwest Vintage Camper Association, and put on at least two events per year since then. I guess my favorites are the themed events like the trailer trash queen, western and red neck. (A chance to get into costume and character) It is nice to have something else to do at the rally location like: shops-restaurants, town to explore, a dance, a parade or a water to play in. Also I think no rally is complete without a few functions to meet each other and an open house. I love seeing other trailers. I love swap meets too.

What clubs do you belong to?

Of course we belong to TCT, also CCNM – Classic Campers of NM. Three car clubs: the Route 66 Rodders, Divco Club of America, and the Driving Divas. Many on line groups/clubs and a few civic organizations.

Can you share an interesting bit of information that most people don’t know about yourself?

Twelve years ago I retired from the real estate world, where I flipped homes and brokered a property management firm. During my working life, I never had a chance to be involved in a motel or campground. So, one day, I told my husband that I always wanted an old motel/campground, what did he do, he bought me one. The Flamingo! Now it is O gauge, (large scale model train) but it gives me a great place to display my collection of trailer toys/models. They look great scatted among the other scenery on our 10’x20’ train lay out. It is a Christmas scene set in the mid 1950’s. It stays up all year, in its own room. Guess I’m a model railroader-who knew. Here are a couple pics: Anything you’d like to share that wasn’t asked?

Enjoy this fun hobby, go to as many events as you can.

How did you get involved with the TCT and what made you decide to become a rep?

I found TCT on line while scouring for trailer parts years ago. I liked that TCT had a purpose other than rallies. They were about preserving history, offering help and educating people. I decided to join, in 2005, I think, I was member number 53 and the only one from New Mexico, then. TCT seemed different from other trailer groups, they offered information. When asked to be the rep, I thought about it, and then said ok. I was surprised and flattered that my new little trailer hobby here in New Mexico was recognized by a large national group like TCT.

What is your favorite part of hosting a rally?

My favorite part of a rally must be seeing the interiors of all the trailers. I always get great ideas for my “next” trailer, and like creative use of space. I think it is just about mandatory to have open house – open for and to include the general public. I get a little tired of hearing “I had one just like that”, but it is rewarding in so many ways. Otherwise rallies are just for us.

What is your most memorable rally experience?

I had a couple, Kenny and Suzie, which were coming to my event to celebrate their 30the wedding anniversary, and without them knowing, we arranged a mock wedding ceremony for them. I found her a dress, flowers, minister, cake, and wrote vows for them. All done completely trailer trash style, and they loved it and were just thrilled. Almost every rally has some great moments and wonderful people.

What is unique about your region/state in terms of camping or the community?

That is a good question. I think with the weather in the SW, most of the year is good for camping and we have unspoiled delightful scenery. It is also great for trailer hunters, as we don’t suffer from winter road salt or rust. New

Mexico is unique, due to its large geographical area we are 5th in square miles, and 6th most sparsely populated. So the people that have the trailers mostly live in the Albuquerque area. Here in Albuquerque we have two TCT friendly campgrounds that love vintage and sponsor their own vintage camping annual events. Enchanted Trails Campground has 3 of my past trailers, and offers overnight camping in them, like the Shady Dell in Arizona. What future plans do you have for the region/state?

I would like to incorporate more state reps, into the master plan. With me, the regional rep, training, and overseeing the state reps. I think most areas are best served by having a local state rep that knows the people, where to camp, what is wanted, and the best time of year etc. I started off with the idea of wanting to do a rally in each state of my territory, and have participated in 4 out of state events now. I plan on hosting my yearly rally the Desert Diamond, at Elephant Butte, NM. Kenny and I will be on the road next year visiting and traveling-I always keep TCT brochures with me and pass them out along the way. The Camp Dearborn rally that Forrest and his crew host, is fantastic, and would love to attend it again in 2015.

Every rally host brings their own unique flavor to a rally, what is it that you bring?

I like to think I bring, organization, a planned agenda, and try to offer something different at each event. My last rally, Desert Diamond, we included a boat ride around the lake, and a cocktail/desert party at my vintage triple wide mobile home. For door prizes, I like to ask trailer questions, with the correct response winning a prize. Mix things up a little, add some fun while sipping on Margaritas.

How can members/participants help in your region or at rallies?

I am always open to any help or suggestions. Members are welcome to host their own events, in their state/location, and I will offer guidance and direction. If I can I will travel to attend, their event. Showing interests and getting your local campers/friends interested in hosting rallies is a great help.

For my events, I am going to start a sign-up sheet, for volunteers. I think if people get involved they will be better participants and might be willing to host their own event.

Thanks,

Karen

A new program has been developed to help support the Regional Representatives and the event hosts: Introducing the TCT FUNd

The TCT organization as developed a new program for our TCT Regional and State reps to leverage a portion of the TCT Membership fees for 2015 rallies. We are calling this the "TCT FUNd". We are setting aside $2 for every member in a region/state to be used to help support new rallies, offset the fixed costs (shelters, coffee pots, etc.) that they might have, or have the club sponsor a small component of a rally - like coffee and treats.

Our goal with the "TCT FUNd" is to help our regional reps grow their regions and provide money needed to offset costs as rallies move from small events to much larger events that need additional infrastructure to support. We've never turned down requests for help and assistance to our TCT rally coordinators and this is another way that we can support them and those that attend TCT rallies.

Our first usage of the TCT FUNd is by our Colorado State rep and the club is now paying for the Meetup.com service she uses to coordinate events and communicate with her members!

Our representatives now have access to our TCT Membership database and can look up membership status directly, as well as see how many members are from their states or regions. They can see the impact they are having by hosting events, communicating with their members and actively encouraging memberships.

Although not vintage related, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to share this piece from Season of Life: A Football Star, a Boy, a Journey to Manhood Author: Jeffrey Marx

NUMBER 4

Today's encore selection -- from Season of Life by Jeffrey Marx. As reported by Pulitzer Prize winning author Jeffrey Marx, Gilman High School in Maryland has an unusual and highly successful football team. And its coaches have a few unusual rules -- such as an ironclad rule that no Gilman football player should ever let another Gilman boy -- teammate or not -- eat lunch by himself. And the requirement that players constantly base their thoughts and actions on one simple question: What can I do for others?:

"What happened that first day at Gilman [High School] was entirely unlike anything normally associated with high school football. It started with the signature exchange of the Gilman football program -- this time between [head coach] Biff [Poggi] and the gathered throng of eighty boys, freshmen through seniors, who would spend the next week practicing together before being split into varsity and junior varsity teams.

" 'What is our job?' Biff asked on behalf of himself, Joe, and the eight other assistant coaches.

" 'To love us,' most of the boys yelled back. The older boys had already been through this routine more than enough times to know the proper answer. The younger boys, new to Gilman football, would soon catch on.

" 'And what is your job?' Biff shot back.

'To love each other,' the boys responded.

"I would quickly come to realize that this standard exchange -- always initiated by Biff or [defensive coach] Joe [Ehrmann] -- was just as much a part of Gilman football as running or tackling.

" 'I don't care if you're big or small, huge muscles or no muscles, never even played football or star of the team -- I don't care about any of that stuff,' Biff went on to tell the boys, who sat in the grass while he spoke. 'If you're here, then you're one of us, and we love you. Simple as that.' ...

" 'I expect greatness out of you,' Biff once told the boys. 'And the way we measure greatness is the impact you make on other people's lives.'

"How would the boys make the most impact? Almost anything Biff ever talked about could be fashioned into at least a partial answer to that question.

"For one thing, they would make an impact by being inclusive rather than exclusive.

" 'The rest of the world will always try to separate you,' Biff said. 'That's almost a law of nature -- gonna happen no matter what, right? The rest of the world will want to separate you by race, by socioeconomic status, by education levels, by religion, by neighborhood, by what kind of car you drive, by the clothes you wear, by athletic ability. You name it -- always gonna be people who want to separate by that stuff. Well, if you let that happen now, then you'll let it happen later. Don't let it happen. If you're one of us, then you won't walk around putting people in boxes. Not now. Not ever. Because every single one of them has something to offer. Every single one of them is special. Look at me, boys.'

"They were looking.

" 'We are a program of inclusion,' Biff said. 'We do not believe in separation.'

"The boys would also make an impact by breaking down cliques and stereotypes, by developing empathy and kindness for all.

" 'What's empathy?' Biff asked them. 'Feeling what?'

"'Feeling what the other person feels,' said senior Napoleon Sykes, one of the team captains, a small but solid wide receiver and hard-hitting defensive back who had already accepted a scholarship to play college football at Wake Forest.

" 'Exactly right,' Biff said. 'Not feeling for someone, but with someone. If you can put yourself in another man's shoes, that's a great gift to have for a lifetime.'

"That was the whole idea behind Biff and Joe's ironclad rule that no Gilman football player should ever let another Gilman boy -- teammate or not -- eat lunch by himself.

" 'You happen to see another boy off by himself, go sit with him or bring him over to sit with you and your friends,' Biff said. 'I don't care if you know him or not. I don't care if he's the best athlete in the school or the so-called nerd with his head always down in the books. You go get him and you make him feel wanted, you make him feel special. Simple, right? Well, that's being a man built for others.'

"How else would the boys make an impact?

"By living with integrity ... and not only when it is convenient to do so. Always.

"By seeking justice ... because it is often hidden.

"By encouraging the oppressed . . . because they are always discouraged.

"Ultimately, Biff said, the boys would make the greatest overall impact on the world -- would bring the most love and grace and healing to people -- by constantly basing their thoughts and actions on one simple question: What can I do for you?

" 'Not, what can I do to get a bigger bank account or a bigger house?' Biff said. 'Not, what can I do to get the prettiest girl? Not, what can I do to get the most power or authority or a better job title? Not, what can I do for me? The only question that really matters is this: How can I help you today?'

"Biff and Joe would constantly elaborate on all of this as the season progressed.

" 'Because in case you haven't noticed yet, we're training you to be different,' Biff said. 'If we lose every game of the year, go oh-and-ten on the football field, as long as we try hard, I don't care. You learn these lessons, and we're ten- and-oh in the game of life.'"

Season of Life: A Football Star, a Boy, a Journey to Manhood Author: Jeffrey Marx Publisher: Simon & Schuster Copyright 2003 by Jeffrey Marx Pages 43, 48-50

We Get Letters Just had our first event with TCT out here in Colorado and it was so much fun!

Thanks again, Kathleen

Rear View Mirror Printed in an earlier edition of Tin Can Tales, reprinted for are newer members – too good not to revisit.

My Families Adventure and Discovery in 1937 The story is especially interesting to me as a modern day RVer with 17 years of camping in a travel trailer, then motor homes, right up to now when we spend about 100 nights on the road towing our antique car, as third generation RVer’s.

I’ve retyped the story without changes and added photos from my mother’s old photo album (and a few others) to bring a visual reality to the story, of one family’s big trip around America that happened 70 years ago!

I hope you enjoy this short story of family adventure and discovery from 1937.

In the process of typing and adding photos to my Grandpa Esser’s Travelogue, I found many similarities and traits in us that must be hereditary in addition to getting his red hair.

– Paul Dobbin, Grandson of the Pilot & Chief Engineer aboard “Betsey”

Grandson’s Airstream Land Yacht named Grandpa’s Travelo named “Betsey the

“The Roadhouse” and his 1934 Ford Land Yacht” and his 1932 Oldsmobile.

Paul Dobbin 221 44 Ave NE St. Petersburg, FL 33703 [email protected]

Written in 1937 and retyped 2007, Copyright 2007 by Paul R. Dobbin

1937 TRAVELOGUE OF TRAVEL WITH A “TRAVELO”

Log Book of the Travelo Land Yacht, “Betsey” By Samuel. A. Esser Finally we are rolling, after a few hectic days of stowing cargo. All the hatches are battened down and we are on board, feeling gleeful. When I say “we”, it must be understood as captain and crew as follows: Ethel (wife) as Captain, Betty (daughter) as First mate, myself Chief Engineer and Helmsman and then there is little Mickey (Boston Terrier) as Cabin Girl and general purveyor of entertainment while on the waves of concrete ribbon.

As I said before, finally we are rolling, yes down the alley; where we kept Betsey at anchor for a few days. The green inexperienced pilot (that is me) nervously navigating the summer ensemble, being car and trailer at about 33 feet long. Slowly out of the alley, around a sharp corner down another alley over a kind of gutter bump, and out in the open street. After a few more turns we had a long straight stretch of city streets ahead of us.

About three miles further but still in the city we made a slight detour to receive a last “Bon Voyage” from some of our good friends and well-wishers. By this time all nervousness had left the pilot and he felt like a veteran. We were leaving our hometown, Minneapolis, on U.S. highway #65 going south. We have a beautiful State, and we admit it. After following 65 for a few miles, we turned right on #169, through Shakopee across the Minnesota River and through the rich, lush farm country to Mankato, an interesting busy little city. From Mankato it is a short run to Fairmont where we soon spotted a beautiful lake surrounded by lovely shade trees. Everybody on board was hollering “when do we eat”, so it was up to the skipper to nose his craft down to the ideal spot where the captain who is also the Chef soon prepared our first meal out. It was a pretty hot day so the temperature in the trailer was plenty hot too. While I was lighting the cook stove the girls got all the windows open and also the roof ventilator. In a short time we were very comfortable and a nice breeze blew from the lake. This was such a delightful place that we decided to “bid a wee,” and after a sufficient rest, take a dip in the lake.

Boy, Oh Boy this is going to be some vacation, we don’t exactly know where we are going, but we are going to have one grand time getting there.

After our swim, I piped “all on board”, all promptly responded except Mickey who had treed a squirrel and considered it her duty to “stand by”. Well after winning the ensuing argument with her, we were off or at least we expected to be, but by that time the captain was a bit nervous about how to get out of the rather narrow space into which we had so joyfully glided but a few hours before. The pilot however was equal to the occasion and by backing and considerable zigzagging finally got the thing turned around. This was our first experience in backing and it was a bit confusing you know, because one must turn the front car wheels in exactly the opposite direction from that which one wished the trailer wheels to travel. One must be careful to go very slowly or car and trailer will jackknife, very to much the discomfort of the trailer.

Leaving Fairmont we took U.S. #16 passing through Worthington. About 20 miles further west through Luverne, where at the east end of this town, we noticed an apparently nice tourist park at which we looked longingly as the day was nearly over. Feeling as no doubt the pioneers of old, we must carry on and reach our goal, which in this case was Sioux Falls, S.D. It was about 8 PM before we got there, daylight was still with us and we had no trouble finding a very nice harbor in “Sherman Municipal Tourist Park”. Upon entering the park an attendant jumped on the running-board and pointed out a good anchoring place to us. The conveniences there consisted of E. W, Tf. Bs. L. (Electricity 110v, Water Toilets flush, Bath showers, Laundry). After jacking up the trailer and uncoupling the car, I started to look around a bit, and to get acquainted, while captain and mate were doing the housekeeping and making preparations for the evening meal. Mickey of course by this time had struck up an acquaintance with nearly everybody in camp. To our right in a Hayes coach was an elderly couple with two young men, not their own, but the lady was like a mother to them. After we had our supper they invited us to come over and sit with them and swap yarns. It was then we learned that the three men went out during the day to do some sort of repair work and “done real well with it too”.

Well the driving and fresh air had made us all rather anxious to try our new house for comfort and sound sleep, so soon we said good-night. I was unanimously appointed the official bed setter-upper, so from that time on it was my duty to convert the “forward” studio couch into comfortable bed for two and do the same with the dinette table and seat “aft”.

The “First Mate” and “The Captain” in “Aft” Dinette Area

It made me feel like a chambermaid but I managed to draw the line at spreading the sheets and blanket. After a sound sleep and a refreshing shower we enjoyed our simple but satisfying breakfast of grapefruit, pancakes and coffee. While the housework was going on inside I touched up the outside of the trailer with a sponge and chamois which disappeared from then on. Yes, one learns a lot when on the road. At breakfast we had agreed it would be nice to run back into town, give it the once over and make the necessary purchases such as groceries, ice and a few odds and ends. A swell live city it seems to be and it left very pleasant memories. By noon we were again at the trailer just in time to wave goodbye to the newlyweds who were parked on the other side, and were now shoving off. It was a beautiful day with the temperature at 84o, so after lunch we did not feel a bit inclined to move on. We had just decided to stay another night when a bum trailer with very unattractive looking people pulled in right in front of our door. So being snobs we decided to “up anchor”. It was now 4:15 so we knew we could easily reach Mitchell, some 60 or 70 miles away. Two rough detours delayed us so that we reached Mitchell at about 7:30 where we stopped at the Westside Cabin Camp, crude but well enough. E. W. Tf. Bs. 50 cents.

Off on time the next morning, it was a fine clear day and visibility seemed infinite. South Dakota prairie land is beautiful, yes in its vastness. Poor looking crops and the dwellings seemed in need of painting. We were still on #16 and nearing Kadoka, gateway to the Badlands. Seven miles west of Kadoka we left #16 and followed #40 for about 13 miles straight west and there connected with the Badlands Highway with about 40 miles of scenic beauty through canyons, tunnels and along rim roads. We marvel at the grotesque formations and all wonder at its history and God’s scheme of it all. “Ain’t nature grand?” On again after a few stops to take pictures and utter Oh’s & Ah’s. What was that on this hill, engine pretty hot, pop-pop-pop? Mixture too lean? No, maybe the high altitude? Stalled at last near the top of the “Pinnacles”. Now, what to do?

1935 International Harvester pickup towing a trailer (note it’s a 5th wheel), headed downhill.

Just then a little car came scooting up the grade, stopped, a friendly young man, who was a geologist working these parts, jumped out. After inquiry as to our trouble he decided it was “vapor lock”, so he very obligingly walked to the rear of the car, took the cap off the gas tank and with his mouth over the opening blew as hard as he could. Imagine our embarrassment when after all his accommodating kindness, the blooming gas tank (which was pretty full) kicked back and sprayed the poor man all over his face and even his mouth. It helped though, because after this we reached the top easily enough. Just over the top was a refectory where we stopped for "The Pause that Refreshes”.

After this, it was downhill and only a few miles to Wall. At Wall we stopped at Hill Crest Cabin Park. It was not up to the mark, water was undrinkable and it had no 110v electricity available for 75 cents, a parking space and a shower, but we wanted to stay and knew we’d be well repaid in watching the town of Wall celebrating its 30th Anniversary. A holiday had been declared, the main street roped off and a Merry Go Round was doing its stuff. Natives from all around were there, men, wives, kids and sweethearts in all modes of dress and everybody happy and having a good time long to be remembered. No ice for the trailer could we get, but I did succeed in obtaining a gallon of pure drinking water and small pieces of ice from the local drug store which was doing a land office business selling root beer and such to the celebrants. (Could this be today’s Wall Drug?)

Next morning we were off bright and early on our way to Rapid City and the famous Black Hills. Rapid City is a beautiful town with arms wide open to receive the tourists. Baken Camp in the north end of town was chosen as our harbor during our stay. It lived up to our expectations in every way as it is shady and lovely. E. W. Tf. Bs., 75 cents for the first day and 50 cents thereafter. They had a grocery store right on the grounds that saved us the trouble of going into town. After “Betsey” had been properly taken care of we had plenty of time to look around and get acquainted with some of our neighbors. To gaze at the prehistoric monsters such as “Stegosaurs, Diplodocus, and Tyrannosaurus” which can be plainly seen from the camp, high up on the bluff, at the foot of which the camp is located. The next day we drove up there to make a closer acquaintance with these cement constructed colossus. While up there we also admired hangman’s tree where in the days of ’76 cattle rustlers and other miscreants stretched a rope. There are many places of interest, both present day and historical, to be visited and the scenic beauty is superb. We saw much, caves, mines, museums, an Indian Pow-Wow, but not enough time, and we made up our collective mind to come back. Before leaving the Black Hills I have to tell you about the “Rushmore Monument”. On our way to it we bought “Rushmore Pottery” which really has merit. It rained all the way out there which dampened our ardor. When we finally reached our goal, the sun came out and we all felt fully rewarded for our efforts.

The heads of Washington and Jefferson are about finished and Lincoln and Theo. Roosevelt are getting along nicely but slowly of course because they are so large. It was said that Washington’s nose is sixteen feet long. Just think of that, nearly as long as our trailer. The men that were working on these huge statues looked like flies, indicative of distance. It is a great work, these faces for posterity. We got back to camp before dark and were we ever hungry, fire in the heater felt good too.

Our next door neighbors are pulling out in the morning for Sheridan, Wyo. Too bad, we hated to see them go, they were charming people. Our plan was to go to Deadwood first and then to Sheridan where we hoped to catch up with them again. Perhaps enjoy the “Rodeo” in their company.

The next day, after a morning shopping expedition, we left Baken Camp. Off for historical Deadwood the city of “Calamity Jane, Wild Bill Hickock, and Deadwood Dick”. The city stage coach, the gold rush and Indian fighting, the glamorous days of ’76. Leaving Rapid City via highway #14 we soon came to a place some 20 miles north where a side road branches off to Crystal Cave. Claims being made that “this particular cave is larger, better, prettier, and what have you, than all other caves in the Black Hills”. We felt compelled to see it. Unhitching the trailer was the work of only a few moments and soon we were on or way over a very primitive road to the cave entrance, a distance of only a few miles. Soon after our arrival there, a guide was available and we were part of a quite large company that entered the cave. In visiting caves it is essential to take an extra sweater or coat as the temperature will be found rather chilly and this one was no exception. It is quite a large cave and has a number of passageways, but the stalactites and stalagmites seemed not very impressive “just another cavern”. Upon leaving we were permitted to take some small pieces of crystal with us as souvenirs.

“The way back to our caravan”, as the English would say, was uneventful as also the rest of the way to Deadwood, except that when we entered the town it was raining hard and already quite dark. We were told to go through town to “Vaughn’s Camp”. On we went for a ways and there we saw the neon sign, turned in and found ourselves in a sea of mud. Not very pleasant, but the proprietor assured us it was a new camp and the next time we came he would have it all fixed with cinders or gravel, which he has probably done since. Too wet for a shower so we had a fire in the heater and a nice dinner after which we wrote postcards for a while to the folks back home, then went to bed.

Next morning up early. It was a beautiful bright sunny day. Our dear Captain and Mate whose duties are legion, decided a little laundry work would be in order, so off to the camp laundry they went while yours truly was scraping the red mud from the car and trailer. After a short interval we were ready for sightseeing. Off to the Adams Memorial Museum, adjoining the town of Lead where the Homestake Goldmine is located. The graves of Wild Bill Hickock and Calamity Jane all had to be visited. In the later part of the afternoon it started to rain again so we decided we had better move on, at least out of the narrow gulch in which Deadwood is nestled.

Following U.S. #85 a short way going north we connected with #14 again and turned west following the highway to Wonderland View Park, perhaps 50 miles out of Deadwood. This was the place for us for the night. It looked like more rain and the engine was balking on hills, so why not stay in this delightful spot, friendly, unsophisticated people managing a few cabins, grocery store and filling station. There were no modern conveniences at all, but we could get along for one night, besides they were glad to let us park without charge.

The next morning was a dandy; the air was so free and pure. This point was at 6000 feet above sea level and breathing was easy, there seemed to be no limit to chest expansion. The sun was shining and after breakfast we were all going to climb to the top of the lookout tower which was built there so that all who would tarry may enjoy the view. After enjoying the view, which was grand, we were off again. Although the road was good and the hills not to bad, we had to stop several times to let the sputtering Oldsmobile engine cool off a bit. I realized I would have to get this sputtering fixed before we could cross any real mountains. We just passed “Devils Tower”, a very curious cone shaped rock formation standing all by itself, reaching high into the sky.

Finally we reached the wide awake town of Sheridan at about 4 PM, dropped anchor at Reynolds’s Camp, E. W. Tf. Bs. Gs. And a filling station, 75 cents. A friendly young fellow jumped out of his nice new “Covered Wagon” ready to get acquainted before I had turned off the ignition. After giving our craft first aid and performing those little chores that are incidental to locating in a new place, we decided to see the town and locate our Rapid City friends if possible. It did not take us very long to spot their “Trotwood Trailer” in a camp at the opposite end of the city. Their home was there but they were not

1935 Desoto Airflow Towing an Ozark Travel Trailer

While in town I ran the car into a garage and had the mechanic check it over. He found a broken spark plug on our engine. Just to make sure, I had him put in a complete new set. The car ran beautifully after that during the entire remainder of the trip. (This was a 1932 Oldsmobile in 1937, pretty good for a 5 year old car!)

That evening, we drove out to the Fair Grounds to view the Indian Pow-Wow. A large crowd of people were there to see the show. Whom do you think was seated right in front of us? You guessed it; it was the traveling friends we had been looking for. We made a date with them then and there to attend the Rodeo together the next day. Three Indian tribes participated in the dancing and singing that evening, accompanied by beating on drums after heating them on the campfire to give them the proper resonance.

Next morning we were up and downtown as soon as the stores were open, these shops all had special window displays for the grand occasion. The streets were decorated and thronged with spectators for the parade late morning, followed by the big show at 1:30. Much local color was in evidence, Cowboys, Cowgirls and Indians with their women and children all dressed in their finest. Ten gallon hats, bright hued satin shirts and high heeled boots were everywhere. Betty was so enthusiastic that she insisted on dressing up her father the same way, but I argued and prevailed that it would be better to look at the real thing than to have her tenderfoot father make a spectacle of himself.

The parade was splendid, one of the most interesting we have ever witnessed. The Rodeo was exciting, with roping, riding and bulldogging. Being soft hearted, we could not help but feel sorry for the poor calves being thrown by the rope while in full flight. It sometimes happened that an animal’s leg was broken, in which case it is given to the Indians to be barbequed. That evening we ate dinner at a restaurant in town, the meal was fair although the steak was rather tough. I’ve heard that should be expected out there in cow country. After dinner we found enjoyment in parading on Main Street to watch the night life and celebrating. The next day the girls spent a nice quiet day in camp knitting, and washing their hair. They said they had rather enjoyed it for a change. I went to town to attend to business and look around, then at 4:30 we all took a little spin along the surrounding highways. When we returned a little California lady who was living in a “Rolling Home” close by brought over some barbequed spare ribs, very delicious. It seems that the girls got acquainted with the family during the day. It is uplifting to meet so many nice, wholesome people on the road. There is a true fraternal spirit which is delightful. The next day was Sunday, and a beautiful one. We left Sheridan by way of U.S. Highway #87. There were thousands of Mormon crickets on the road. This is a semi-arid land and it makes us sad to think that the white men plowed under the native grasses and laid the land open to erosion. It was interesting to pass by General Custer Battlefield and National Cemetery about 85 miles out of Sheridan. It was here that the Sioux Indians wiped out Custer’s troops in the Battle of Little Big Horn, June 26, 1876.

By noon we had reached Billings, Mont. There we got gas and ice for the trailer. A few blocks further we found a shady park where we stopped for lunch. We did not tarry long in Billings because were anxious to see the scenic beauty of the new “Red Lodge “Highway. We left the city by U.S. #10 going west south west for about 12 miles then turned left on highway #32 which we followed through rather level but green country until we reached Red Lodge, a little tourist town in a gorgeous setting. Over the bridge that crosses Rock Creek the road leads by the “See’em Alive Zoo” in to nature’s wonderland. First we traveled through the valley but gradually noticed we were climbing. After making a few turns we stopped for a moment to look around, never realizing just what was in store for us. Soon our glances followed the road and saw tier upon tier of road zigzagging up the mountain side. It nearly took our breath, I heaved a sigh and said: Golly I can never haul this outfit up there”, whereupon we all got boarded and shoved off. We only stopped twice for picture taking, going on and ever higher, until at last we had reached the top, well over 11,000 feet above sea level (Beartooth Pass). Here we stopped for a few snowballs and to watch the Woodchucks scamper around. The top being nearly flat we found we could see the tiers of road below us.

After all, the climb had not been as hard as it could have been; it was built on a 5½% grade. Next would be the trip down the mountain on the other side to the next town, which is Cooke, Mont. We should have bought gas at Rail Lodge, but failed to do so, not knowing there were no pumps between that town and Cooke. We had fun wondering if we would make it. The tank was so nearly empty that for the sake of safety we poured gas into it from the cook stove, lantern and auxiliary gas can. We made it all right and the first stop in Cooke was to fill all our equipment. It being nearly dark by this time we decided to spend the night there. We found an ideal spot to park at the foot of a nearly perpendicular snowcapped mountain by the brink of a rushing mountain stream.

Shortly after dinner we retired for the night and had a sound sleep under four blankets. The next morning we were up early and took time to exult in fresh pure air and God’s beauteous handicraft. Our front lawn consisted of lush grass speckled with a myriad of wild flowers. During preparation of breakfast, Betty gathered flowers and soon had a bouquet that graced our table for a whole week thereafter. After our meal we leisurely rolled towards the Yellowstone Park that was only four miles further west.

Upon arrival there, after the customary formality of exchanging three dollars for a permit to enter, we passed through the rustic gateway and were at last in this wonderland of worldwide fame. After entering we drove another fifty miles to Monmouth Hot Springs and the free Auto Campgrounds where we were to park during our stay in Yellowstone. We found all the usual conveniences there except electricity and we were much disappointed in not finding shade. The natural beauties and phenomenon of the park are too well known to enumerate here in detail. Suffice it to say that in the next few days we visited all the places of interest that we could reach by automobile. We saw herds of buffalo, elk, moose and deer and numerous bears. The last are excellent “panhandlers” along some of the byways. The Grand Canyon of Yellowstone River is simply gorgeous and so is the water fall. In all we drove within the confines of the park between 300 and 400 miles, returning to the trailer each night. At last, thinking we had seen enough, the wanderlust took hold of us and again we made ready to go on and investigate what lies in the great beyond. Before leaving we went to the Post Office at Mammoth once more for mail and to leave our next forwarding address as Spokane.

New Yellowstone Tour Bus at Hot Springs in Yellowstone National Park

It was not until after lunch that we were all ship shape and ready to shove off. After a short run we left this truly famous park by the North Gate at Gardiner. A fine and easy road for leaving as it is downhill all the way, but I would hate to pull a heavy trailer into the Park via this route. It would be a long and steep grade coming the other way. On to Livingston, sixty miles away, an easy run north, for the afternoon. A nice level road through a wide valley got us there too early to call it a day, so on to Bozeman, Mont. In this city we stopped for the night at a filling station situated near the Montana State College. Leaving the trailer there we went down to town to do some necessary shopping.

The next morning I filled the tank with gas before breakfast and hitched the trailer to the car so there would be no further delay after we ate. Soon we were off and then the question arose, which way to go, via Butte or Helena? Betty favored Butte and her mother favored Helena. Appreciating what would be best for me, I remained quite neutral. Betty won of course, so Butte it was, and four miles shorter than by way of Helena, so father, who buys the gas, had his inning too. Butte is a mining town, built on the side of a hill, did not appeal to us very much, so we decided to go to Missoula. Leaving Butte at 3 PM going west on U.S. #10 we passed through the beautiful valley of the Clark Fork River and the Lolo National Forest.

Peterson’s Tourist Camp was our objective in Missoula. We had chosen it from the listings in the Official Directory of Trailer Parks & Camps issued by Trailer Travel Magazine, a guide that we used extensively during our wanderings and found very useful. Just before entering town we turned to the right and found the camp about a mile north of #10. Our joyful host Mr. Carl Peterson, formerly of Minnesota met us at the entrance and directed us to a lovely shady spot under the big pines. The camp was divided into two parts; the cabins are on the higher ground and the trailer area in a lower perfectly level grove. We were there about an hour before dark so we had ample time to admire the natural beauties of the place. We found a little creek, marvelous pine trees, E, Tf, Bs and we could have a campfire. The water supply was from an ice cold pure mountain spring. One pine tree right by our home on wheels measured eleven feet and four inches in circumference. After the sunbaked trailer grounds at Yellowstone, this came as a true relief. We hated to see the dark set in although we knew we were going to have a swell sleep. Up early and after breakfast when the sun got fairly high, we could fully appreciate being in this cool grove rather than on the higher ground near the cabins. Soon we got acquainted with some very nice people. There was a family of four from our home state spending the whole summer there. Betty was after a short time quite chummy with the daughter of about her own age. They went berry picking and also made plans to go to the University ball game.

We liked Missoula and didn’t want to leave. The next day, Sunday, we went to church in the morning and in the afternoon drove around visiting the University of Montana campus located there. On Monday I washed the car while the girls were washing the breakfast things. After lunch I got acquainted with Dr. R.T. Pettit who’s “Westward Ho” was then being serially published in Trailer Travel Magazine. The good doctor and his family were then on their homeward trip. We had intended to leave that afternoon for points west but conversations with Dr. Pettit, who had just come from there, soon convinced us that we should stay until morning. He said it was a nice day’s drive to Coeur D’Alene where we should camp at Silver Beach Trailer Park, a lovely spot about two miles east of the city. On Tuesday morning we reluctantly left Missoula for a delightful drive through beautiful valleys and over scenic mountain roads.

In due time we crossed into Idaho and shortly thereafter we could see the town nestling in the valley below us. The day was grand and the road good; we were enjoying every mile of it. Finally we reached the town of Wallace where the sign said “Home of the Largest Lead & Silver Mines in The World”. We could see where mining operations were going on along the road for quite a ways after leaving the city.

Crossing the Idaho panhandle was a very scenic trip. After passing through the little town of Kellogg we soon reached Cataldo where we found Fourth of July Canyon. Near the rim stands a tree which bears the original blaze and date, “July 4, 1860” carved on it by Captain John Mullan. Cataldo Mission is also close by, built by Jesuit fathers who started it in 1848 and took twenty years to build it without the use of nails. On we go climbing and winding until at last we get a marvelous view of Coeur D’Alene Lake. It is a gem, that beautiful blue lake in its setting of fresh green pines. As we moved along and downward we had an ever changing panorama. All too quickly we reached the very water’s edge. It surely was lovely there and still early so we could enjoy it to the fullest. Even Mickey liked it, to judge by the way she barked her approval right out loud. A delightful swim was our first diversion. We had found a very cozy place to camp with the usual conveniences E. W. Tf. After a refreshing sleep that night, we found it quite impossible to tear ourselves away from this lovely spot in the morning, so we stayed until rather well into the afternoon and reached Spokane at about 5 PM. Here we wished to stop, not only to see the city but also to look up some relatives.

Entering Spokane from the eastside and staying right on #10 it led us through the center of town directly to the “High Bridge Municipal Tourist Park”. A fine park with all the modern conveniences and some natural beauty, we met many congenial people that evening and the next day. After parking we showered and dressed for the drive back to downtown where we ate a light dinner at the Dutch Shop on Howard Street. Then we called up my wife’s cousin John and told him we were coming out. With the aid of a good Shell map of the city, we had very little difficulty finding his home. We had a most pleasant visit, getting acquainted all over again as we had not seen each other in 17 years, his wife and children never.

It was getting late and rain clouds were blowing up from the west, so we decided we had better return to our own home before we got soaked. It rained intermittently all night and we were lulled to sleep by its patter on the roof. After a refreshing rest we awoke the next day to sunshine, in time to exchange a few parting words with our newly met acquaintance and neighbor, a retired naval officer and his wife. They were about to return home to California in their “Kozy Kamp” coach. We planned to stay the day in Spokane as we were very comfortable and the girls wanted to shop in the city. They did so, while I, being lazy, stayed in camp keeping Mickey company. A sudden shower brought the ladies back sooner than they expected. It was only a short shower, the sun came out brightly soon after. We decided to risk it again but this time on a sightseeing trip. We toured around and admired the fine city and were particularly impressed by the intricate system of roadways with over and underpasses in the west end of town. Back home in Minneapolis, we have some bad crossings that should be eliminated in this manner. Incidentally I noted our way out for the next day.

The morning came on bright and sunny, an ideal day for the trip to Coulee Dam. Waving goodbye to our fellow campers, we were off and soon back on #10. First we crossed the High Bridge, then a long easy grade up to travel The Big Bend Wheat Belt in level country until we reached Almira. There we turned off and went straight north for a way and on to the Dam site. This terrain was hilly and led us close to the Columbia River where we could behold the grandeur of the canyon through which it rushes on its way to the sea.

Now this wealth of power and moisture is being harnessed for the use of mankind. Below us we could see the mighty foundations of the Dam which will eventually be the largest in the world. When finished it will be 550 feet high and 4300 feet long and produce 50% more power than Boulder Dam. Part of this power will be used to pump water, from the swollen Columbia River above the dam, over the hill and into the gigantic reservoir to be made of the Grand Coulee nearby. Before visiting the Grand Coulee, we wanted to see more of the Dam building operations. So, we drove a short way and found a fine large level parking lot where we unhitched the trailer and left it while we drove down the steep grade to the west observation stand to hear a government official give a lecture on this great work. We were also shown a model of the completed Dam and power units. Afterward we passed through the model village where the employees live and then crossed a high bridge to the east side to listen to another lecture. This time, on the actual construction work of this great project. We marveled at the ingenuity of it all. Continuous conveyer belts carried sand, gravel and cement to mammoth concrete mixers. As soon as the mix was ready, it passed to diesel motivated dumpcarts rolling on tracks to all sections of the dam. After seeing all this we felt a strong desire to visit again when it was finished and in operation.

The Captain (Ethel) and First Mate (Betty) with “Betsey” at Grand Coulee Returning to our Travelo it was but a moment’s work to hitch it to the car and be back on the roads over the hill leading away from the river. We then entered the upper section of the Grand-Coulee. This portion will be fitted with a retaining dam at its lower end, thus forming a huge reservoir after which water backed up by the big dam will be raised by the pumps into this rock-lined canyon where by means of canals it will flow out to reclaim the parched but fertile acres of the Columbia Basin.

As we entered this awesome chasm it was unlike what we had expected. It was bigger, more majestic and overall gaunt and somber. From where we entered the upper Coulee, the rim of the Columbia Canyon was about 500 feet above the river. To the end of the lower Coulee is a distance of fifty miles. In places this enormous flat bottomed valley is as much as five miles wide and its walls are perpendicular, towering upward to nearly one thousand feet. After we had driven only a few miles in the upper Coulee, we passed by what is named Steamboat Rock. It is perfectly flat on top and shaped like a steam ship. There it stands in the middle of this giant canyon, reaching as high as its vertical walls. After passing out of the upper Coulee we came to the Dry Falls. This is the place where at one time the mighty Columbia River took a 400 foot drop at a width that would make about ten Niagara’s, but not one drop of water is going over it now. Only a dark pool of water at the base bearing mute evidence of ages long past. Our road also led us down to enter the lower Coulee. While the upper Coulee is quite dry, the lower Coulee contains several beautiful little lakes. The last one of these is called Soap Lake and is said to contain medicinal properties. After reaching the town of Soap Lake, we turned west again, reaching Ephrata before dark. In this town we soon found a hospitable filling station attendant who said he would be glad to have us park there for the night. We found an “Elcar” there ahead of us and soon a trailer of some other make pulled in. We enjoyed getting acquainted and visiting back and forth with one another that evening. There is little to say about the town except that it is situated at the northern boundary of the Columbia Basin Irrigation Area which contains 1,200,000 thirsty acres that someday hope to get their life-giving moisture from this wonderful project that we just inspected.

We decided to go to Seattle by way of Ellensburg. We drove down to the Vantage Bridge and there crossed the Columbia River. Passing by the Ginko Petrified Forest we soon reached Ellensburg. We were happy we chose this way to the coast because we have seldom had such a delightful drive through a beautiful fertile valley and choice mountain forest scenery. Finally we reached Renton and as the campsite there did not seem to appeal to us, we decided to go on to find something closer to Seattle.

We found what we thought would answer our expectations close to the city limits and right on #10. The place was called the Brown Derby and we had grass and shade but the only conveniences consisted of E. Wc. Tp. After dropping anchor we drove the car to the city as it was still early enough to collect our mail and look around a bit. The next day we would investigate the city more thoroughly, so after a quick look-see we found ourselves returning to our home. It had been a warm day and I guess we were looking for a good night’s rest. It did not take us long to get under the covers after dinner, and Oh how we slept.

It rained that night and the next morning we awoke to a beautiful fresh sparkling world. We felt it was just good to be alive. Even Mickey felt exceptional, I think because she started clamoring for something to eat, which was unusual as ordinarily she ate around noon. We started for town as soon as the housework was done, which thanks to the compactness of the house, never took long.

Stopping at the first Shell station for gas and a map of the city, we could soon orientate ourselves. We were going to have a full day. We wanted to see the Aquarium, the University, Fort Lawton and the canal locks. We finally ended up at the waterfront after browsing about for a while in the Old Curiosity Shop. We were tired but satisfied and ready for a good dinner, so we went to Don’s on 5th Ave near Pike Street where we had a splendid fish dinner. As we had many more miles to cover, we agreed to go on the next day. First thing in the morning I had the car greased and otherwise serviced, so we didn’t get away until half past ten. We went south to Kent to say hello to some relatives. Leaving that town we went west for a short distance to pick up U.S. #99 which proved to be a fine four lane road that carried us through Tacoma and almost to Olympia before it narrowed to two lanes.

Sam & Ethel Esser in Front of the Washington State Capital Building, Olympia, Wash.

At the capital of Washington we stopped for lunch and the usual snapshots. After a short interval we were again rolling southward through this beautiful lush green country. We took it easy enjoying to the fullest natures beauty along this shady winding road along the Cowlitz and Columbia rivers.

Along this road we passed through Woodland. At the south end of town we found an inviting shady tourist park called “Woodland Auto Camp”. Equipped with a grocery store, oil station, E.W.Bs.Tf.Bt.L, this was the place for us. Especially after we noted some big pine trees in the lee of which we could drop anchor. An ideal place to rest, so that was the way we spent the evening and night. The next morning we awoke to one of those big beautiful days giving us plenty of pep for sightseeing. So, we decided to stay another night and in the meantime spend the day retracing our steps about eighteen miles to Longview in order to visit the large veneer and plywood mill located there. Also to see one of the largest paper and pulp mills in the country. That trip proved very interesting and instructive.

The next day we left camp in time to reach Portland at about noon. First we called for our mail at the new Post Office. As we did not intend to stay in the city overnight, we found a shady place by a little park where we could leave Betsey for a little shopping. Here we uncoupled and drove the half dozen blocks back to the shopping district. It was a hot day, in fact the natives told us it was the first hot day they had that summer. We liked Portland and it seems to be a real city. Among other things Betty bought wool yarn for a new dress she wished to knit. That girl is some knitter, while traveling she knits but also sees everything along the road just the same.

When we returned to our home, Mickey, who had watched over it during our absence, welcomed us with snorts and yaps. Lunch was soon ready and we ate right there before shoving off again. Soon after leaving the city behind us on U.S.#99E we had a beautiful view of snow-capped Mt. Hood about forty miles east of us. It is the highest point in Oregon at 11225 feet.

Passing through Salem we soon reached Albany at which point we swung west on #26 to Corvallis to visit friends and make a one night stop. We did our visiting that evening and the next morning awoke to the thundering rumble and mighty splashing of enormous fir logs being dumped from trucks into the close-by river from where they floated to the big sawmill. After breakfast we drove over and inspected that mill in full operation. Here we saw huge fir logs being reduced to building material, very interesting indeed. After this we picked up our trailer and took highway #34 to the coast. This road, although not so good, gave us gorgeous scenery and we enjoyed every foot of it. As we neared the coast we became aware of the salty tang of the ocean. This increased our impatience to get there until at last we beheld that great expanse of water and we all laughed and shouted out loud just for the pure joy of it all.

At the little seacoast town of Waldport we stopped long enough to buy a big salmon steak and a crab so large I bet it was fully seven inches in diameter. While the Captain was doing her shopping a funny fat man came over to the car and started telling all he knew about these parts. Mickey thought she had found a long lost friend because he pulled many pieces of raw meat from his pockets feeding them alternately to her and to his own dog, meanwhile explaining that he had just killed a bull that morning. Then he would walk off a ways and come back again. This went on until Ethel was ready to move on again, so waving goodbye to our newly found friend we rolled on to join U.S. #101, the coast road going south. We only went a very short way however when we felt impelled to stop. We had come to one of those wide places along the road made purposely so one can tarry and take in the view or otherwise enjoy one’s self.

So here we stopped for lunch and a delightful lunch it was too, as the “piece de resistance” was our newly acquired crab. While we were still eating, another car stopped and soon its owner stuck his head in our open doorway and welcomed us to the state. He said he noticed from our license plate that we were from Minnesota and soon was telling us all about his work in Oregon and how he settled here five years ago and originally also hailed from our state. We enjoyed his visit, asked him to join us for lunch, but he assured us he had just eaten.

After the dishes were disposed of, we went outside and it was glorious with an invigorating breeze blowing forcing us to don heavy sweaters. We were so elated with the Pacific that nothing short of wading in it would satisfy. So, off came the shoes and stockings. We were not the only ones either as we noticed another family doing the very same thing. Funny how things like that can make kids of us again and we are thankful for it too. But was the water ever cold, why it was simply terrific. Undaunted however we stuck it out for a while until we mutually agreed we had enough. Mickey had her fun also but she was shivering and willing enough to be traveling again, scolding us from the back seat for being slow.

On we went along this beautiful scenic coast highway, up and down and around many rocky curves. Now right up to the water’s edge then a bit inland. This went on until after crossing a beautiful new bridge spanning Coos Bay, we reached North Bend. There we stayed for the night in a camp at our right which had looked inviting. Here we found E. W. Tf. for 50 cents. A pretty place to stop. After dinner we took a brisk walk through the town partly over a funny old fashioned wooden sidewalk. We walked all the way to the south end of town and back, after which we were ready for bed.

The next morning the road led us inland for the first 20 or 30 miles, but after that we could enjoy the sea again. We reached Smith River, the first stop across the border in California, where a pleasant official asked to examine our belongings. It made me think of entering some foreign country where customs officers look for contraband goods. He showed great interest for lemons, sweet potatoes, etc. When he spied the Captain’s English Ivey gracing the table he became very suspicious and carried it out doors for better light to examine it. Happily he decided that it was quite harmless and let us keep it, provided we promised to carry it with us when we left the state. We promised. We had a good laugh. Another tourist who had just bought a dozen oranges, was told that he could not bring them into California but would have to throw them away, whereupon he replied: “No sir, I bought these oranges to eat and eat them I will.” So the officer said “OK; that will be the only way you can bring them into the state.” When we drove off the poor man was just starting his fifth orange.

We were handed some tickets, perhaps they should be called Clearance papers, with the laconic remark that we should “hand them to the official 92 miles down the road”. We however only went as far as Klamath that day and never did see anyone to hand that ticket to.

We stopped over at the Cates Bros. Auto Park on #101 south. It is a nice place with lots of room and all the usual conveniences, 50 cents. After dinner we investigated the town and the Klamath River where it empties into the Pacific. It is said fishing is very good there.

We departed from Klamath at six thirty AM and drove three hundred miles to Santa Rosa. After following the coast line for a short way, we entered the Redwood Forests. They are dense and magnificent and it did our hearts good to read the signs displaying the names of clubs and women’s organizations that were instrumental in saving the different groves of these age old giants for posterity. “Oh Woodsman Spare that Tree”. Well, many have been spared and let us thank the California people for that.

Mickey, Betty, the 1932 Oldsmobile 8 and the Travelo in the Redwood Forest In Santa Rosa we parked under a magnificent pepper tree and could have lingered there had time permitted. The surrounding territory is a true wonderland and full of interest and scenic beauty. It was here that the late Luther Burbank lived and worked and found his last resting place beneath the Cedar of Lebanon Garden that is located here and open to the public.

Saturday morning we left for San Francisco only forty eight miles away. We reached that city at about ten AM. After crossing the Golden Gate Bridge it was only a matter of a few minutes to find our friends on Chestnut Street. Only the lady of the house was home, of course, and she showed us a most hearty welcome. Nothing would do but she would pilot us through the center of the city to Coloma, a little town south of San Francisco where we wanted to park during our stay.

After arrival, we had tea and made plans for the two families spending as much time as possible together during our visit in their home town. The next few days were spent in one round of continual visiting and sightseeing. The Presidio, the Marina, Golden Gate Park, Aquarium, Japanese Gardens, China Town, and what have you. One night we all drove to the top of Telegraph Hill to enjoy a beautiful view of the city by night. We saw the fleet come in and Alcatraz Island, visited the fish market with its outdoor kettles for boiling lobsters.

Finally our time was up and we simply must go on, so we bid farewell all to our dear friends and the next morning we were off again on our trek southward. We followed the bay until we nearly reached San Jose, then we took a road to the right which carried us through Santa Clara, of prune fame, to Santa Crum and the coast. From there we took #101 south. This proved to be rather disappointing as the road was hilly and crooked with heavy fog banks and poor visibility all afternoon.

It was already dark when we reached San Luis Obispo where we stopped for the night at Star Auto Camp in the south end of town. Nearby is the old mission from which the town derives its name, built in 1772. The next day was very pleasant; we followed U.S. #101 again which after a short drive led us back to the coast. We reached Santa Monica in the afternoon and found a suitable tourist park at 1200 Pico Blvd. Besides the usual conveniences we had newspaper, ice and milk deliveries on the grounds daily. We choose this place as our headquarters during our short stay in these parts. Within easy access to the beach and Los Angles, with delightfully cool nights and warm but bearable days. We enjoyed the sea bathing to the fullest. As could be expected, one of our first trips led to Beverly Hills where with the aid of a handy map we easily found the homes of many of the movie celebrities. Another trip was taken to the beautiful Forest Lawn Memorial Park. Much to be admired and great interest for the “Wee Kirk O’ the Heather”, the reconstructed church of Annie Laurie in California. Relatives were visited and acquaintances looked up, we crossed the city in every direction, went shopping and investigated the outskirts and suburbs.

After spending a few days in this manner, we agreed that we had seen enough. Our original plan had included a visit to San Diego, but time was a big factor as we simply had to be home by September first. Therefore the next morning as beautiful as all the others, we turned our faces homeward. We took the just dedicated “Will Rogers Highway” #66. Our first stop was in Alhambra where we made a flying visit with some people we know. Only staying a few minutes, we were soon on the trail again and driving through orange groves which certainly looked inviting. It is said that here are some of the finest groves in the state. By noon we found a nice shady spot by the side of the road where we could eat lunch. Before leaving behind this section we bought a goodly supply of juicy fruit to eat on the way. We figured they might come in handy later in the desert.

Soon after passing through San Bernardino we got a laugh out of a sign on a fence, it read “Semi Nudist Colony”. No, we did not see the inmates. After reaching the top of a hill we spied a white structure ahead with the caption in big black letters, Orange Juice Garage. Arriving there we partook of the beverage and in exchanging pleasantries with the attendant we learned that they had to haul their water supply from a distance of ten miles. This indicated to us that the desert was not far off. In reminiscence we speak of the place as the “orange juice garage”.

After this came a long steady upward grade which brought us to a level plateau containing an oil station and some other buildings. As evening had set in and it was now quite dark, we asked for and were gladly given permission to park there for the night. We had a good night’s rest because the air was grand but the place was not exactly quiet. At least half a dozen or more giant oil trucks stopped there during the night. One other house trailer and some other vehicles stopped but only for a few hours’ sleep before moving on.

Leaving Cajon Pass behind us the next morning, we rolled down into the Mojave Desert country towards Barstow. Arriving there the Captain expressed the thought that we must be nearly through the desert. Little did she realize that we were just getting started into it and had two whole days of desert travel ahead of us. After Barstow we left #66 and took U.S. Highway #91 instead. When we reached Las Vegas at about one o’clock we thought it more pleasant to stop there and start early the next morning to dodge some of the heat. Upon entering the city, we were hailed by an enterprising Jewish ice peddler who sold us ice right in the middle of Main Street. It was amusing and he agreed “Ja, I ketch’em on the wing”. Las Vegas is a regular oasis and we surely enjoyed its shade. We found a camp with a delightful swimming pool being constantly refreshed by a running creek. The afternoon was spent lazily watching all the youngsters in town splashing in this pool. We showered, ate dinner and did not go swimming until about eight that evening.

We were up at three the next morning and on the trail as soon as possible after breakfast. It was cool and delightful driving in the dark, then into the semi darkness meeting the sun. That day we left Nevada and crossed over the northwest corner of Arizona and got well into Utah. For the night we stopped in Beaver. As we knew of no trailer park there, we dropped anchor in a vacant lot behind a filling station. It was nice and level and piped with running water. We were quite alone there until during the night a “Covered Wagon” pulled alongside of us and I awoke just long enough to hear a young voice call out “Jack, come to bed”. The next morning we left quietly before daylight leaving the other trailer by itself in deep sleep.

1930 “Covered Wagon”, Looked Homemade but They Produced 1000 a Month by 1936

After a pleasant and swift drive we entered Salt Lake City while the day was still young. Selecting one of the numerous tourist parks with trailer accommodations, it did not take us long to shower and be ready for sightseeing. Thinking of Salt Lake City is thinking of Mormons, so off to the Tabernacle we went and arrived just in time for the free daily organ recital. After the music we admired the huge Mormon Temple with its pillars, domed roof and seating for eight thousand people. Not open to the general public, we could only see it from the outside. We did see many other places of interest, the Seagull Monument, Brigham Young’s grave, his former residence and Immigration Canyon through which Mr. Young led his pioneers and proclaimed to them, “This is the Place”. We must hand it to them; they made the valley bloom where formerly only sagebrush grew. The state capitol building was interesting to visit as was the Great Salt Lake where we took a swim. It was a very funny experience because of its salt content, said to be 22%. One cannot sink; in fact one can only with difficulty keep ones feet down in order to walk around in the water.

It was nearly dark when we drove back. The city in the distance seemed to be nestling in the lap of the mountains, looking pretty with its myriad of twinkling lights. In camp that evening we had some fellow tourists over, telling their experiences. We got a kick out of hearing the man from Missouri tell he had “lots of hogs”.

In the morning we took a trip to Brigham Canyon, an interesting and picturesque mining town. It has but one street that winds its way for three miles up the canyon with the miner’s houses hanging along its sides. It is said to be the “longest, narrowest, steepest and crookedest street in the world”. At the end of this street you finally come to the largest open-cut copper mine in North America. It works a score of terraces in plain sight with giant electric shovels moving vast quantities of ore. Between work periods blasting goes on sounding like a good size war.

In order to avoid having to cross the Wasatch Mountain range out of Salt Lake City, we went straight north on #91 to Ogden. In that city we picked up U.S. #30-s going east passing Devil’s Slide and traveling through Echo Canyon past Castle Rock and into Wyoming. The first town in that state was Evanston, elevation 6747 feet. By noon we had reached Fort Bridger where we found an interesting historical museum, old stockade guard houses and a Pony Express stable. Here we stopped for lunch before driving to Point of Rocks for the night. We parked at a wide spot by the side of the road at a Texaco Station. Without electric, we pressed our gas lantern into service again as we had on many previous occasions.

At about six fifteen the next morning we were off for Cheyenne. Through the Red Desert and on over the Continental Divide at 7107 feet giving us a grand view over the surrounding plains. We came to a Texaco Station in Harper where we filled our tank. It was the only habitation we could see for miles around. An aged Negro came out to wait on us. Apparently he lives there all alone with his goats, in some structures made of logs and stone. While the ladies were feeding the Mama goat and her young some apples, the old man requested me to make out a charge slip for the gasoline we got.

The poor fellow leads a lonely life there I fear. Talking about charge slips makes me think to mention what a great convenience the credit cards are that the Oil Companies now issue. They forestall carrying any great amount of ready cash and making change.

In Cheyenne we did not find the western atmosphere we had expected but that was probably our fault and not theirs. We did find a shady camp by a creek and that would have been “just dandy” if there only had been water in the creek. A stretch of new paving was being put down in part of the business district and the building of the new railway station was causing considerable activity in town. Leaving the city the next morning still going east on #30, the Lincoln Highway, we were soon in Nebraska. We drove in plains in the wide end of a funnel formed by the North and South Platte Rivers. Before we got to Ogallala we had the South Platte very close at hand. The country was gradually getting greener and Cherry juice was for sale everywhere. Finally at the town of North Platte the two rivers join forces and there we stopped for the night.

There are many choices for tourists there so we just picked a park at random and it proved to be very pleasant. This is the home town of that noted character, Buffalo Bill, who lived here for thirty years. It is the center of a rich agricultural section. The trip the next day was through a level fertile country, so we kept rolling along at a good clip following the Platte River to Fremont where the river turns south to join the Missouri below Omaha. We went straight making a few detours on account of road construction on our way to Blair. From there it was over the Missouri River on a toll bridge into Iowa.

A short distance into Iowa we came to the town named Missouri-Valley and as the day was nearly at an end, we thought it best to stop there. Before we got fairly into town, just after some railroad tracks, we turned to the left because we spied a fine grove of trees. It turned out to be the county fairgrounds and as luck would have it, it was equipped for tourists. An attendant assured us of welcome so we were very comfortable there for the night. The conveniences consisted of E.W.Tf.Bs. We were quite alone there until much later some people pitched a tent a short distance from us, but they were gone in the morning before we got up, it had rained hard during the night and everything outside was dripping but nature looked good in the bright morning sunlight. After breakfast as we were ready to depart, we were amused to see a young traveler ride up on a bicycle. He stopped for few minutes chat and a cup of coffee and told us that he was bound for Seattle on his way from Pennsylvania. After seeing him peddle away on his long hard trek west, we also resumed our journey.

We enjoyed the ride through this beautiful green agricultural state. Our road, still #30, led us through Carroll where we stopped for lunch and a haircut for the pilot. Nearby is the battlefield where the Sioux and Pottawatomie fought one of the bloodiest battles in redskin history. We did not take the time to drive out to see it. Instead we drove on to Boone where it was the pottery that we couldn’t leave behind. The town after that was Ames, about 12 miles after that we turned north on U.S. #65 to near Iowa Falls where we found a tourist haven on a farm. It looked like and actually was a lovely place. Here were cabins and trailer space with all the modern conveniences. Besides catering to wayfarers these people run a farm and raise silver foxes. We were told they had over two hundred of these valuable fur bearers. It was amusing to watch them at feeding time and see how they would fight trying to keep each other away from the horsemeat that was given to them for food.

Heavy dew fell during the night. No doubt quite the unusual thing and perhaps the reason for the fresh green all around. Iowa appeared to us as the greenest and most intensely cultivated state we had passed through, and all the homesteads looked prosperous. Tourist facilities were scarcer but not a worry to us, as we soon would be home.

Mason City was reached in due time and there we felt at home as we had visited it on a previous occasion. In this city we just bought gas and pushed on again, feeling the urge like “Old Dobbin” to get home to the stable. In Albert-Lea however I just had to look up an old friend of mine and find a shady grove for lunch. Here we filled our tank for the last time on this trip. From there we kept going until we found a safe haven in the very pleasant “Minnehaha Tourist Park” owned and operated by the Minneapolis Park Board. It is located on the beautiful bank of the Mississippi River. It was here I figured out how ridiculously low the cost was of this 7000 mile jaunt for three people and little Mickey. We gained health, lost weight, and got tanned. We saw a goodly section of our homeland and learned that this continent is full of splendid people. This trip brought us nearer mankind and nearer God. For all this we are thankful. So, after spending a few pleasant days there with congenial neighbors from all parts of the United States, all our city friends and relatives coming to see us, we truly regretted to leave our home on wheels and go back to the prosaic way of living in a house.

The Travelers: Left to right, Sam Esser, Pilot, Chief Engineer & Writer: Ethel Esser, Captain: Betty Esser, First Mate. Mickey the Boston Bull Terrier was off entertaining the Camp Grandson’s Notes:

Samuel Esser was born in Holland in 1880, the youngest son of a Dutch writer. In 1895 he came to Minnesota where he lived and went to school. About 1901 he went back to Holland and then to India to export wood to Holland. In 1910 he returned to Minneapolis where he lived in a rooming house owned by my great grandmother, there he met my grandmother. He rode a Harley Davidson and bought a brand new Model T Ford Roadster when they got get married in 1911. He opened an Edison

Phonograph store, added radios, then appliances until just before the great depression, when he bought a grocery store. This travelogue was a vacation from that store.

This story of travel adventure held a special interest to me as the grandson of the Pilot & the Captain and the son of the First Mate. When I was a child, I knew Grandpa & Grandma Esser, who would travel through Princeton, N.J, towing a trailer on their way to Florida. We would then visit them, summers and at Christmases, living on the beach at the Gulf to Bay Trailer Park on Manasota Key in Englewood Florida.

Reading this adventure and plotting it on the maps across the country brought the enjoyment of travel not unlike the log of our travels that I send out via email to friends and relatives during our modern day RV travels. I’ve read this story to my mother who will be 90 before this story is 70 years old. She remembers most of it and doesn’t dispute any of it because it happened a year before she married my father in 1938. He too, was a writer, adventurer and great story teller who wrote things down for us to enjoy again.

During the typing and plotting of their trip, I was continually amazed at how similar it was to today’s campgrounds and tourist attractions, although on a smaller scale. I also think some of those early “Tourist Camps” are still in operation, unchanged, except the large sites that were built for his rig totaling 33 feet in length are now accommodating 42- foot Motor Homes with slide outs and towing Honda’s while totaling twice the length and twice the width of the Oldsmobile & the Travelo trailer.

When I plotted their trip it seemed to roughly follow where Interstate-90 is now heading west to Seattle, then I-5 south to Portland and then the Coastal Highway101 to LA before taking I-15 & I-80 (the Lincoln Highway)to I-35 and home again to Minneapolis. Of course none of those Interstates existed then, but the trip could be recreated using them today. We often still travel the old roads where they still exist and use the Interstates to get through the big cities. The country as described in Grandpa’s Travelogue still exists out there, just not at 75 MPH.

My other passion besides RV camping is antique cars. The idea that they drove that 1932 Oldsmobile towing a trailer for 7000 miles, only needing a single spark plug is a totally awesome accomplishment. The car was an 85 Horsepower straight eight with a standard 3-speed transmission. They didn’t need a special tow vehicle, RV Service Plaza’s, Roadside Assistance Plans, Camping World, Wal-Mart parking lots or Caravans to enjoy the whole northwest.

Having driven America’s back roads in cars 1935 & older in all 48 states over the last 23 years, I really connected with this travelogue that I found in my mother's old stuff. We participate in things like the Glidden Tour for Pre-WW II automobiles and the Great American Race because they give us the opportunity to see this great country like my Grandparents and my Mother did in this story. At 45-50 MPH, on secondary mostly two lane roads, we know the America of 70 years ago still exists.

Historian Discusses Florida Tourism Evolution By Tom Palmer THE LEDGER Published: Tuesday, June 16, 2015 at 11:08 p.m. BARTOW Florida tourism has changed in many ways over the past century, but the basic principle of the state's tourism industry has not, Nick Wynne told a crowd at the Polk History Center on Tuesday. Wynne, a historian, author and former college professor, discussed the development of the Florida tourism industry based on his book "Tin Can Tourists," a reference to the first wave of tourists who drove to Florida in the early 20th century and usually camped here in days before widespread tourist facilities. Florida has had tourists since Spanish colonial days, but they arrived by boat and later by boat and train, but in relatively small numbers, he said. Florida attracted about 100,000 tourists per year in the latter part of the 19th century, Wynne said, explaining in those days the main interests were exploring nature. But at the time Florida had few good roads, so they weren't able to explore much. Auto travel by anyone but the rich didn't catch on until after World War I, Wynne said. Before then, he said, the price of cars was beyond the reach of most people, there were few auto dealers to sell cars and few garages to fix them. It wasn't until about World War I that automobile engines were reliable enough to encourage people to take long trips by car, he said. About the same time, there were campaigns led by the automobile industry to improve the road system — Polk County officials approved a major road construction bond issue in 1914 — and people came to explore parts of Florida they'd never been able to reach easily before. The era saw the early development of motor hotels, later called motels, where tourists could stay without having to pitch a tent or pull a trailer. "They were cheap, close to the roads and provided a base for exploration," he said. Wynne said between World War I and World War II, roadside attractions such as Cypress Gardens, Silver Springs and Marine land developed that would advance a major goal of the Florida tourism, which was to attract tourists and to persuade them to spend their money here. Wynne said the picture today is dramatically different. Many tourists reach Florida by plane, and theme parks are a bigger draw for many of them than nature.

A complete listing of both Official TCT Events and other events that may be of interest are at www.tincantourists.com

2015 Events

The link will take you to a complete listing of Official TCT Events + others submitted to us for listing http://www.tincantourists.com/rallyregistration1.php#.Ud1r2fkm2DQ

Daniel Strohl Jun 18th, 2012 at 8am | Hemmings Daily submitted by Steve Schlot

Browsing through the Library of Congress online photo archives recently, we noted a handful of motorhomes built before that term came into widespread use, all of which seemed to adopt a similar style – box on a stock chassis – but with individual refinements. Take, for instance, the Ford Model T (TT?) based motorhome above, with its body extended over and beyond the hood and grille, plenty of plate glass and stained glass windows, and even lace curtains that presumably drew down in the evenings. Other than the date the photo was taken – April 9, 1924 – nothing seems to be known about this Ohio-based homebuilt.

About Gospel Car No. 1 we know much more. Built by mechanic and preacher William Downer of Glassboro, New Jersey, out of oak on a Republic 1-1/2-ton chassis, it measured 7 feet, 10 inches wide and 22 feet long and slept five, including Downer, his wife, and at least one of their two daughters. Aside from a kitchenette, running water and electric lights, the motorhome also boasted a pop-up pulpit and organ. The Downers began their cross-country trek in November 1919, stopped in Washington D.C. in 1920, where these photos were taken, and planned a five-year around-the-country trip with a second gospel car to start in August 1920. No word whether they actually built Gospel Car No. 2 or made that later trip.

Not a Library of Congress photo, rather a postcard image that twin6 posted to the H.A.M.B.’s Vintage shots from days gone by we see here the motorhome of Willis Roy Willey, who we imagine would get along just fine with the Downers. Willey, also known as the Wild Man of Spokane and the original Wild Boy of Spokane, was an interesting character: Born in Iowa in about 1884, he moved to Spokane around the turn of the century and tried wheat farming, but eventually gave up on that endeavor and decided to “return to nature.” He stopped wearing anything but shorts – in fact, just one pair of shorts – in 1919, claiming “clothes ain’t healthful,” and stopped cutting his hair or trimming his beard in 1933. He seemed to collect animals of all sorts – raccoons, possums, wolves, dogs, badgers, guinea pigs, turtles – and traveled the country as he pleased in motorhomes built from castoff building supplies, making money by posing for postcard photos and by selling bottles, scrap metal and second-hand furniture. “His venerable Model T was a crazy-quilt of patches, mended parts and pieces of other autos,” the Walla-Walla Union-Bulletin wrote in November 1951 when he stopped there. “Three window panes from some house formed the windshield. The police, Willey complained, are his No. 1 headache. Their first reaction upon seeing him is to throw him in jail or run him out of town.”

Another postcard, dated 1940 and showing Willey with a smaller Ford Model T-based motorhome, claimed that he had been at that lifestyle since 1920, though a later 1953 AP profile of Willey noted that he became a nomad after his farm was auctioned off in 1922 to settle a $140 debt; this undated postcard image claims that he’d been at it 22 years and shows a larger motorhome equipped with a Ford Model T engine, Chevrolet transmission, Ford Model A front axle, Oakland radiator, Studebaker rear axle. What ever happened to Willey and his motorhomes, we don’t know.

Back to the Library of Congress photos. W.M. O’Donnell of Detroit built this one on an unknown chassis for him, his wife, and their sons Billy and Bobby to use on a trip from Michigan to Florida, stopping in Washington D.C. on the way to take in the Lincoln Memorial, where these photos were taken in February 1926.

Finally, W.A. Harris of Texas with his Chevrolet-based motorhome, photographed in September 1924. Know of any more?

Tin Can Tourists Fall Gathering Registration Form Camp Dearborn, Milford, Michigan – September 24-27, 2015

Registration Information:

Last Name ______

First: His) ______Hers) ______

Number of Additional Guests or Children: ______

I will be bringing the following trailer/motor coach to the Gathering:

YEAR ______MAKE ______MODEL______

If any of your contact information has changed, list it below:

Street Address, City, State, Zip

Email address: Phone: Important

Registration Fee $120.00 for two adults includes, Window Sign, two dinners and one breakfast, entertainment and dance music.

Note: your registration fee does not cover a camping site. After receive a receipt from me, Camp will have your registration information and will call you to reserve an available site. Registration for One Adult is $90.00

Add $35.00 for each additional guest or child 10 or older

Registration two Adults $120.00 + guests ($35.00) =

Total amount of check ______

NO PAYPAL FOR THIS EVENT – SEND A CHECK AND PLEASE MAKE IT PAYABLE TO FORREST BONE

Send this form along with your Check. Please make it payable to: FORREST BONE – to 4 High Street, Bradenton Florida 34208 in the winter and to PO Box 489, Gregory, Michigan 48137 after April 15th

Registration Procedure: You must make your own site reservation with the Camp The Office will contact you regarding site selection. Refer to the camp map at http://www.campdearborn.com/ click on the campsite map.

Tin Can Tourists 9th Annual Florida Homecoming Gathering and Show Registration Form Koreshan State Park – Estero, Florida November 5-8, 2015

Registration Information:

Last Name ______

First: His) ______Hers)______

Number of Additional Guests or Children: ______

Indicate the Year, Make and Model of the RV you will be bringing:

This information is for the window sign that you will receive at Koreshan. If you have any new contact information, such as a new email address, etc., write it below:

Only vintage rigs will be able to park in the Koreshan Unity Settlement area. Newer rigs can reserve a campsite through www.reserveamerican.com Water and electric will be available at the Unity Settlement. Restrooms are available. Shower facilities are accessible in the campground.

The registration fee of $90.00 will be used to cover rally costs. Excess funds will be donated to Estero State Park.

Please make check payable to Forrest Bone

Only 20 units will be allowed to camp in the Historic Section. An early submission of this registration form is recommended. After the 20 spots are filled, attendees will have to camp in the campground. Don’t delay, register today.

Make Check Payable to Forrest Bone:

Total amount of check ______

Send this registration form along with your Check made payable to:

FORREST BONE: in During the Summer until October send to PO Box 489 – Gregory, Michigan 48137 During October send to 4 High Street, Bradenton, Florida 34208