I had the good fortune to be able to spend Father's Day in New Orleans with my oldest son. Saturday afternoon as we walked down Saint Charles Avenue I noticed a beautiful old building on the north side of the street somewhere around the 2000 block. Like so many other New Orleans buildings these days, it was gutted and surrounded by a fence awaiting some sort of rebuilding. Looking up, I noticed from the engraving in between the two floors that it was the old Packard dealership.
Pardon the poor quality form my cell phone camera> Unfortunately you can't see the engraving where it says Packard.
I was reminded of my uncle, who was like a second father to me. He owned Packards for years, beginning with a 1949, then a '51 and a '57, which he didn't really consider a Packard. The '57 was the only one I knew, with one of my earliest memories as a child riding in the car, and wondering why the engine shut off at every traffic light. Compared to our Chevy with it's straight 6, I guess it really was that quiet and smooth.
I also remember his telling the story about driving between Dallas and Fort Worth in about 1950 - back when there really WAS a between - and being pulled over in the '49. The cop strolled up to his car and asked "Excuse me sir, but do you realize that you were going 91 mph?" My uncle calmly corrected him, telling him that he was going 94. With no speed limit at the time, the cop decided that his speed was "safe and prudent" and let him go.
I also seem to remember something about the '51 having some sort of automatic clutch. I think he had to use the clutch for getting started but not for changing between gears. Does this ring a bell with anyone?
By the early 60's, the '57 had eaten it's transmission, and with Packard out of business and the problem of getting parts, he was never able to find anyone who could properly repair the automatic transmission, so it sat beside the house for a few months. A bit of an eccentric guy, he'd begun to dig a hole in the back yard to bury the damn thing but my aunt and the neighbors put a stop to that and he sold it for next to nothing.
The name remained magical to me however, and on my first trip to Aspen in 1973 I stopped at a junkyard that specialized in old cars in Kansas, Smiling Jack's. I think it was either in Manhattan or Junction City. In addition to the salvage cars, he had running cars parked for sale on the driveway in. On of them was a Packard, a 1941 Business Coupe, looking a bit worn but pretty much fully intact. It was $1100 and I stared at it wondering how a kid like me could get it back to Atlanta. As much as I wanted to have it, I knew it was impossible. I was intrigued though by the sign in the window of each of the cars which said "this car comes with smiling Jack's famous guarantee", so I went inside to ask. Jack sat there in his un-airconditioned building, sweating and smoking a cigar. When I asked him about the guarantee and what it mean, he removed the cigar form his mouth, smiled, and said "If it will start, it will get to the end of the driveway!"
Aah, the simple days.
