The Big E

When I was young the favorite fall activity was attending the Springfield Fair. Officially the Eastern States Exposition, it was (and is) a surrogate state fair for the six New England colonies, each of which is too tiny to mount a state fair of midwestern proportions. For reasons I cannot explain, I had never been to Springfield Fair, or "Eastern States" as we sometimes called it, or the Big E as it is known now. So when my family asked what I wanted for my birthday, which occured earlier this month, I said "Take me to the Big E!"

The Big E began in 1916 as an agricultural show, and it remains substantially so today. It is held in West Springfield, Massachusetts, over 17 days in September and October. We arrived as the Jersey cows were entering the show ring, and took a stroll through the barns of sheep, goats, pigs and poultry. There's a large presence of FFA and 4H Clubs, dairy promotions and plenty of handicrafts. But agriculture takes machinery so not far from the gate we were greeted by vintage tractors. These were mainly Farmalls and John Deeres, but there was also an assortment of garden tractors. I was delighted to find an old friend, a Farmall F-12, just like the one I drove in my farming period, right down to the accessory overdrive for road travel.

I was surprised there were so few exhibits of new tractors, just a Bobcat among the backhoes and loaders, and a bevy of TYM tractors, a make I'd never heard of but which are built in Korea. New England is snow country, so of course there were snow plows aplenty and the first ever MXT International pickup I'd seen in person.

But what about cars? Were there cars at the Big E? Well, there was a Subway/Aflac Ford Fusion racer, with obligatory false face, and soon I stumbled across a slightly slammed AMC Hornet. It turned out to be one of the cars from the James Bond film The Man with the Golden Gun, a center-steer stunt car from the barrel roll scene, the work of stuntman and demo derby entrepreneur Jay Milligan.

It was Connecticut Day, so we went to the Connecticut building, and saw author Billy Steers autographing children's books with his own Tractor Mac Farmall Cub. Around the back was a mysterious 1929 Buick and a Camaro convertible ostensibly for Connecticut's Outstanding Teen, Acacia Courtney. The Connecticut State Police had an authentic 1958 Ford cruiser of the type I remember, correctly fitted out with lights, radio and three speed stick shift, just as I remember back in the day. They also had later generations of LTD cruisers and a current Crown Vic, and even one of the short run of Plymouths ordered by Governor Meskill back in the 1970s. A flock of Harley-Davidsons completed their display.

Close by was a GM Futurliner bus, now owned by Springfield's Peter Pan Bus Company, and a curious thing promoting Lupa Zoo, which displayed some of the customary characteristics of a car. And then there were trucks, from the local chapter of the American Truck Historical Society. Announcing that the national ATHS show is coming to the Big E grounds in 2012, they had assembled a good contingent, including an authentically-outfitted 1924 Model T huckster wagon. Chevrolet is the "official car" of the Big E, enshrined in Chevrolet Court and centerpiecing a new Camaro. Much play was given to the fuel cell Equinox and ethanol-drinking HHR.

But the Big E is hardly a car show. There's a big midway with rides, state exhibits like Massachusetts cranberries, and pitchmen for every concievable contraption, from floor mops to Sham Wow. We filled up on fair food, walked our feet off and had a thoroughly good time. You can, too. The Big E runs through October 4th.

Something for Everyone

I seldom go to car shows these days. Somehow, rows upon rows of muscle cars or Corvettes leave me somewhat jaded. I'd rather spend my time pursuing some arcane corner of automotive history. Last Sunday, however, was the annual show put on by the Greater Norwich Area Chamber of Commerce, not far from my Connecticut home. I hadn't been in some years, as the September date usually clashes with my near-annual trip to Beaulieu Autojumble, which I passed up this year so I could do the Morgan Centenary instead.

The Norwich show is held at Dodd Stadium, home of the Connecticut Defenders baseball team, although they're leaving the area. It's not the ideal place for a car show, as the field is all blacktop and there's no shade, but the day was nice so I went to take a look. I discovered one of the most unusual shows I've seen in a long time.

The first thing to catch my eye after leaving the entrance gate was a covey of Chrysler Crossfires. It didn't seem to be a class display; perhaps it was a Crossfire club. In any case, the orphaned model is bound to be tomorrow's collectible. Not far away, among the dealer displays, Norwich Public Utilities was showing off a brace of hybrid biodiesel bucket trucks.

The class judging areas were a veritable kaleidoscope of automotive serendipity. Not far from a tidy 1959 Rambler American with authentic swamp cooler was a full-blown '61 Chevy. There were real British sports cars, real-looking British sports cars, and unreal British sports cars. Connecticut is funny. Our state issues "Early American" license plates to cars that are unAmerican.

Not all was shiny. A 1937 Ford coupe looked too good to restore, and a 1957 Chevy Nomad looked too good to drive. A pair of unpretentious Ford trucks began a class of commercial vehicles that culminated in a big Mack. In between was a frog-colored and frog-eyed Dodge. In the imported vehicle class, a tricked-out Toyota Tercel competed against an odd-couple Bricklin and DeLorean (wearing consecutive license plates) and the obligatory Herbie replica.

There was no class for pre-1917 cars, so the 1911 Hupp, oldest car on the field, sat with 1920s cars and the two 1912 vehicles were off by themselves. The Model A class was pretty sparse, probably because some cars had left. Falcons were in good supply, and there were bevys of Thunderbirds from the 1960s and '70s. If there were Corvettes I missed them, and I gave short shrift to the muscle cars.

For the hot rod purists there was a Deuce Lowboy roadster, and for the Bowtie boys a big block '29 Chevy. Slammers had been at work on such oddities as a Cornbinder pickup and a '40 DeSoto, the latter giving me a dose of bittersweet nostalgia. There were vendors aplenty, but one had to look hard to find car parts among the crafts and household goods. The car I most wanted to take home? Probably this 1955 Studebaker Champion.

Good Sportsmanship

At first glance this may look like a Ford convertible without its skin. That's because it is a Ford convertible without its skin - the very heart and soul of a Ford Sportsman, actually. It's tempting to assume the Sportsman was a response to Chrysler's wonderful wood Town & Country, but actually the T&C and the Sportsman were developed nearly in parallel.

During World War II, Henry Ford II had a cut down Model A on which a wood runabout body was built at the factory for his Long Island beach house. HF II became rather fond of it and asked E.T. "Bob" Gregorie, the head designer, to come up with something similar for the postwar catalog. The result was the Sportsman, announced in September 1945, two months after the assembly lines resumed operation. Returning to full production, however, was a full-time task, so the first Sportsman wasn't delivered until December.

The understructure was the same as the standard convertible body, with precision-jointed wood on top. The bodies were produced at the same Iron Mountain mills and assembly works in Michigan's northern peninsula that had been supplying wood and building bodies for Ford station wagons since 1929.

The Sportsman had hydro-electric windows and top, and all had the postwar 59A-B 100 hp V8. Standard rear fenders and taillights wouldn't work, so fenders from the sedan delivery were used instead, with 1941 taillights. Seats were faced in genuine leather, in a choice of red, tan or blue-gray, but any pairing with exterior colors was possible, leading to some unlikely combinations. The trunk was enormous, at the price of a very large and heavy lid. Early models had the red-accented trim of 1946 and early '47, later ones the stylish translucent hood ornament.

There was also a Mercury Sportsman, in 1946 only. Just 205 were built before it was discontinued. The Ford Sportsman continued into 1947 and the 1948 model year, the last one built at the very end of 1947. Production, including the Mercurys, totaled just 3,692.

The cars shown here were part of the Nick Alexander Ford woodie collection, which was sold at auction on August 13th. Included were five Sportsman convertibles, one 1946 Ford and two from 1947. The single 1948 is believed to be the last Sportsman completed, and was owned by a San Diego school teacher for its first 35 years - until it was stolen from her garage. Pride of place, and high money for the sale ($368,500) was taken by this 1946 Mercury, interestingly with blackwall tires and neither radio nor heater. Mr. Alexander dislikes whitewalls, so few of his cars had them. He also prefers cars optioned the way they were first delivered, so some his cars had radio and heater, and others just one or the other.

All cars were sold at no reserve, the "lesser" convertibles bringing $214,500 to $275,000. In all, the collection of 51 cars grossed over $7 million. At sale's end, many collectors went home with some excellent and correctly-restored cars.

The full story of the Ford and Mercury Sportsman convertibles, as well as the wood-bodied station wagons, can be found in Lorin Sorensen's excellent book Famous Ford Woodies.

Full disclosure: As it says on my bio page, I neither appraise nor sell cars. I do, however, occasionally research and write about them, including the catalog for this sale.