The Niedermeyers’ move from Iowa City to Towson, MD. in the summer of 1965 was not a happy one for me. Compared to that little cosmopolitan and progressive university town, Towson was insular, conservative and dull. Nobody had ever been anywhere in their lives except at the ocean during summer vacation. They all wore the same preppy clothes. They were unfriendly. And they all drove big, boring sedan, especially Fords. Even the nuns at Immaculate Conception, who got three new ’66 Ford Custom 500 sedans in various pastel colors, one of them exactly like this blue one. I still struggle with the unhappy memories it’s brought up. Now I’ll have to share them in the hopes that it’s therapeutic. Feel free to sit this one out.
I was forced to go to Immaculate Conception school in Towson, which was run by a murder of nuns as if it were still 1890, compared to the very progressive public grade school I’d been in. Uniforms, mandatory confession, stations of the cross, and we were forced to walk in single file anywhere, including two blocks after school. The nuns had these little metal clickers in the hands which signaled us to stop, start, genuflect, and kneel. I felt like a wild animal that was being caged after it had run free all its life. I loathed it. And you wonder why I have a bit of a negative streak towards big Fords.
I won’t even go into the academic standards, which were highly variable. Some of these gals were completely out of their element by 7th and 8th grade, and we used to ask them questions in science, geography, civics and history specifically to trip them up. They’d say “oh; that’s a good question. Why don’t you look that up tonight and report back with the answer in the morning”. As if.
And art class! In Iowa City, a terrific artist came in to teach us art, which I loved. I won 1st, 3rd, and 5th in a city-wide art contest in 5ht grade, with a mosaic, clay sculpture, and collage. There wasn’t a single art class at Immaculate Conception until about a week before Christmas when Sister Michael Francis brought in a shopping bag of kitschy used Christmas cards she had been saving, asked us to take one, and then copy it! Very artsy.
Enough of that, but it really was the most miserable two years of my life. And it didn’t help seeing that little fleet of stripper Custom sedans parked in front of the convent.
I don’t know what was under the hood of the new numb nunmobiles, but they had automatics. They might have had the 240 six for all I knew. Where did they go in them anyway? I don’t remember ever seeing them drive off for a night out on the town or anywhere else.
This fine example of a nunmobile obviously doesn’t have the six, with those two exhaust pipes. I’m going ot say that big Fords in this era were less likely to have sixes than Chevys. It might have to do with the old tradition of Ford having been a V8 only company for some years and the powerful association with the brand and V8s. Or maybe it’s my imagination.
Speaking of my imagination, a ’66 Ford Galaxie 500 sedan in this same blue inspired my only work of fiction here at CC: “All Points Bulletin”.
I can sightly comiserate. When we moved from the country to the suburbs I had two miserable years in Grade 7 & 8 before high school. But at least there weren’t nuns, I had plenty of stern Dutch Calvinists in my young life but they never made me do stuff like walk in single file with clickers.
Was that an intentional choice on your parents’ behalf to try to reign in young Paul, or was it just a case of the local school was the local school?
We moved to Towson just a week or so before school started. I was headed to Towsontown Junior High, but I think someone tipped my parents off that it was a bit unruly there. Also, Immaculate Conception was just 8 blocks from our house. My two younger brothers went there too.
This car screams “Undercover Cop Car” to me.
From my experience, the penguins always liked Chevy station wagons here in New Orleans.
Yep, seeing a basic blue Ford on not-full hubcaps make me thing Dirty Harry and his 500 Custom.
This would be the kind of classic car I’d love to own some day, not a fire breathing Camaro or Mustang, but a cop-spec 4 door sedan with a V8.
people always ask me about my 77 Chevelle sedan, if I want to make it a cop car, it being the top-line Malibu Classic trim is too fancy for a detective car, though Charles Bronson drove one in one of his Deathwish movies.
The chase scene in the Seven-ups, ROy Schneider sure made that dreary-colored Ventura look pretty bad*ss (fake plumbed in stick-shift V8 engine sounds helped)
https://youtu.be/9vACWV5sRcY
My favorite Death Wish car is the ’73 Torino 4 door hardtop Frank Ochoa (Vincent Gardenia) drove in the first Death Wish film in 1974.
https://youtu.be/8Xjr2hnOHiM
In view of the white walls, as well as the bland metallic paint, I’m going with Driver Ed car. All it needs is one of those removable metal billboards that used to mount over the rear bumper, between the taillights, reading: “Student Driver.” I took Driver Ed during the ’65-’66 school year in this car’s “opposite number”: a 1965 stripper Chevy Bel Air in the very same shade of non-descript light metallic blue paint. It takes me back to some near-death experiences at the hands of a fellow classmate who should never have gotten behind the wheel. Fortunately, the instructor (who was also the boys’ swim coach) had great reservoirs of patience.
The Mrs. and I have been watching old reruns of The Fugitive. We have moved through all the cops driving 63 and 64 Fords and are now awash in 65s. I am sure the 66s will be along soon, many looking just like this (but in glorious black and white). 🙂
Well, starting in ’66 at least the episodes were in color. But the cop cars will still be in black and white.
I’m an avid fan of the Fugitive and have been thru every episode long ago. What I noticed with this, and many QM shows in general, is that the same cars tend to get recycled thru each season. Evidently, Ford gave the producers a limited number of cars each season, and were used again and again. Of course, there were lots of other non-Ford and/or older cars used too. But look closely at the current-year ones.
An example that comes to mind, in the first season, there is a certain ’63 Galaxie 4-door hardtop with spinner wheel covers that is seen frequently.
Ahhhhh yes, the retentiveness of an observant grade school boy’s mind:
I have to agree with Paul’s characterization and description of the Parochial school system during this time period.
My sister wanted to attend the local Catholic church’s grade school as most of her friends were there.
The head penguin in charge demanded to interview our entire family before my sister could be admitted to their “progressive” education system.
All six of our family members docilely filed into the nun’s office.
Hanging on the wall behind her massive desk was a ruler and a paddle.
After a few perfunctory questions, my Mother hesitatingly asked about said items.
The Nasty Nun haughtily informed my Mother that the first was for misbehaving students; the second for extremely rude & frequently misbehaving students.
Having already experienced the wrath of my Father’s German-Russian temper several times in my 9 years of life; my eyes quickly locked on my Dad’s face.
His normal skin tone changed to primer white paint pale, then to Del Monte tomato red in about 3 seconds. Not. Good.
In a voice quivering and vibrating with anger, paternal pride and passion, Dad jumped up, leaned over the chubby penguin’s desk and bellowed at the “administrator”: “Sister, NOBODY abuses my children! I don’t care what kind of Holy mission you think you are on! NOT GOINNGG TOOOO HAPPPEENNNNN!!”
He then turned back to his shocked wife (and me internally smirking) family and quietly said: “Come, my dear, we are LEAVINGGG!”
Needless to say, all of Dad’s children never had the “advantages” of a Catholic school education. In spite of this handicap in life, we all turned out just fine.
It is funny how that 66 used to be my favorite Ford of that 4 year run, now it runs neck and neck for last with the 68. Maybe it is because my youthful memories were opposite of yours due to my father’s 66 Country Squire and Uncle Mervin’s 66 Galaxie 500 2 door hardtop. That Country Squire was like a Lincoln compared to the 63 Bel Air wagon dad had before it.
I have also found it funny how quickly Ford ditched the super-square look of the 65. They were clearly running away from that look even before it hit showrooms. The 65 GM models surely left Ford stylists quaking in their boots given the way they tried to roundify the square rigged car for 66. FWIW I think Ford nailed it for 67.
As for the nuns, you will be happy to know that most of them came to agree with you and shucked most kinds of discipline for themselves as well as for the kids. They became cool, undercover sisters who were just not all that into teaching bratty kids and now lead retreats on sustainability and such things. What few of them under 75 there are, anyhow. Interestingly, the few exceptions that kept to the older ways are the ones getting the most new blood these days.
I rank the 65-67 Ford’s in the same order as tri-five Chevys(tri-six?): 55/65 was clean and pure, 57/67 was overstyled and 56/66 was a sort of a blend of both I can’t really get into.
JPC, rather to my surprise, I find myself offering a nunly defence, as your last para is arguably a bit pursed in the lips to be satire.
For the nuns (and male orders too), the entire medieval system that structured their existence (and even vocation) dissolved in the face of an ever-enlightening word, and collapsed into dust from the light that Vatican 2 let in. The abusive methodology they had long used, which largely arose from the fundamental precept Do Not Question – either they for themselves, or the student for the teaching – was eventually and rightly banned by the world. Those whose heartfelt faith and loyalty to the Church determined that they would stay on, yes, they shucked the clothes of oppression and obeisance to The Parish Priest, but in no way threw off discipline for themselves. And as for the “disciplining” of those bratty kids, there was quite simply and quite soon not enough of the exhausted few any more to do it. The new blood now – in droplets only – does indeed go to the few outfits still welded to old fears, and can also be guaranteed to be a population with higher levels of neuroticism and psychological irregularity than amongst the rest of society.
I don’t share the faith of my 81 y.o. aunt or her Sisters, not since I was little. But she has led an admirable life of service since 17, amongst much questioning and personal struggle. School principal, Mother Superior, CEO of hospitals, social worker. She is loyal, keeps her faith, and can’t be undercover in a local community where her works identify her. And though I’ve no doubt this hugely-loved figure certainly could lead a retreat on sustainability because of her intellect, she has never done so.
Oh, and there was never a “cool” nun who actually stayed on. They all became Sally Field, and flew.
We can at least agree that your aunt is a lovely and admirable woman. As for the rest, this would require another time amd another forum.
Complete concurrence, Mr C.
Anyway, any more from either of us would rightly be overruled by the C of C.
The nuns at my school ranged from a youngish, guitar-toting, very post-Vatican II principal to one who was very elderly, never used a plain but original statement when a cliche could be bafflingly shoehorned in, and was barely bigger than most of her third-graders. They drove a ’77-79 era Impala, in this exact same light metallic blue. That would’ve been in the early/mid ’80s.
“…when a cliche could be bafflingly shoehorned in.”
That’s damn funny! In my own experience, it wasn’t any of the nuns but those I’ve dealt with in the business world.
Like the Brazilian camel foot:https://quatrorodas.abril.com.br/noticias/grandes-brasileiros-ford-galaxie-standard/amp/
We’ll have to talk sometime Paul. Having been born in Baltimore to 2 New Englanders of Vermont and Boston/Swedish ancestry having also been transferred by work and living in Towson in a neighborhood just west of yours from 1950 to 1968, perhaps my perceptions were formed very differently while also coming from another outside culture at a very different time of life.
My parents, though also “from away” as they say in Vermont, integrated into life there quickly through work, church (Unitarian, very eclectic and a lot of former Jewish members), and their college alumni associations. Baltimore has been correctly called a “big small town” and it has a very unique and to me interestng culture. The many small towns that grew up around it did tend to be insular to an extent but also quite varied. Perry Hall 5 mi East was/is very different than West Towson/Riderwood. As a county seat of gov’t Towson, growing very rapidly in the ’50s and ’60s, changed dramatically and with resulting growing pains suffered somewhat from that in my 18 yrs there going from a smallish village to a bustling suburban center of influence very rapidly, while my wife’s hometown of Catonsville was very much a German- ancestral enclave, and much more of a stable culture than Towson.
In general some of the really “old line” Baltimore society was hanging onto a S. of the Mason Dixon culture and accordingly some racist attitudes still persisted with some of that older small minority and certain of the undereducated underclasses (my wife’s Teamsters Union truck driver Grandfather was a real Bawlamer Archie Bunker, see also “Hairspray”, Baltimore boy John Waters’ (who went to THS a few yrs before me) movie based on the real riots at an amusement park in Woodlawn ca. 1963), but not so much with younger adults then in their 20s and 30s, particularly non-natives, who increasingly were moving to Towson and the area in the booming ’50s,
In our own neighborhood of Chestnut Hills we had numerous natives, Catholic and Protestant, but also a large cohort of non-locals, and perhaps that made a difference, but in my experience it was not atypical, My parent’s best friends, all Towsonians or N Balto (Charles St-Homeland) based were: head of U MD Endocrinology from Newfoundland Canada, and his wife a Bostonian fellow alumna of Mt Holyoke like my Mom, a work/church friend from Connecticut via Yale and his wife a Middlebury grad from Vermont, a PA couple, and a FL couple, all with 2 to 5 kids. My best friend from across the streets IBM’er parents were from NY/TX, my other best friends were one from LI NY, one from NJ, a Japanese kid, his Dad was Dept Chair of Math at JHU, and local kid who was into trains and HO trains like I was.
I guess one’s experiences depend greatly on the connections and associations made, but with my own family all being from New England, perhaps I’m fortunate in that I have many overwhelmingly warm and fuzzy memories of the first 18 years of my life growing up in Towson prior to moving away to college and then to VT and NY. . And I can still tell you almost every the make model and color and whether it had undercoating of almost any ’50s and ’60s car that lived within 1/4 mile of my house LOL!
Maybe it helped to not have moved there as a teenager, that would be difficult at that age and hard for anyone not to resent, particularly having had to acclimate to another drastic uprooting only 5 years before!
BTW the girl next door went to Immac Concept, she was a yr younger, 5’7″ and looked incredible in the uniform, I’m sure I leered at her regularly. I should have asked her out! So there were a few good things at that fortress on the Hill at Joppa and Bosley!
I was somewhat expecting a comment from you.
Yes, everything is relative, and the relative changes from Iowa City, a university town where I had absolute freedom to roam, and where there was a very eclectic community of folks that had found their way to the university from all over the globe, that transition to Towson was very painful for me.
Part of it was the timing, as I was 12 and entering 7th grade, a difficult time for most kids. But the social structure and norms were all so different for me, so I had a very hard time of it socially. I had lived on my bicycle in IC, but in Towson NOBODY rode a bike, so I had to ditch that instantly.
The pervasive racism was very shocking to me. In IC, our neighbors three houses down were a black family; he was the dean of students at the university. There were a couple of other black kids in my elementary school, university families (grad students).I had zero exposure to racism up to the time we moved to Towson. The N-word was used pervasively.
This was of course at the height of white flight from Baltimore, and there wasn’t a single black kid at school at Immaculate Conception nor at the huge church. 100% white. The blacks in Towson lived in a little community that was only known as “Little Africa”.
Yes, after I got into high school and spread my wings, I became much more in contact with other folks, a much wider range of backgrounds and interests. What I’m describing is the situation I found myself in the first two years. It took my a bit to find the wider diversity of people there, and to appreciate many of the great qualities of the Baltimore area.
It is a city with many terrific and unique qualities. I moved back a couple of times briefly in the early 70s, and lived in the middle of a totally black neighborhood in the Greenmount area, and also in Fells Point before it was gentrified. I got to experience the many ethnic neighborhoods before they all moved out of the city. And so much more.
My comments are not meant to be a sweeping indictment of Baltimore or Towson, but just a snapshot of the specific circumstances of a painful transition for me.
I really did hate that school, as sadly the nuns were in way over their heads trying to teach specialized subjects, as in 8th grade the school reorganized into a junior high school structure for 7th and 8th grade. They did not have the academic background to pull that off. It was embarrassing. And they mostly struggled with discipline issues; the classes were big and unruly. And we were bold and pushed their buttons. Some pretty pathetic things happened in that regard.
When I went to Loyola in 9th grade, that all changed, drastically.
Paul I can well imagine the culture shock. And I never heard anything good about Towson Catholic, 4 of my next door neighbors went there…. Mrs. Kenney was the type that went to mass every day, so the poor things had no choice.
We’re well acquainted with Iowa City as well, as my daughter lived there for 3 years (S end, Yewell St) in the late ‘oughts with her ex-husband, whose family was from Iowa and his father was a big U of I basketball star in the early 60s. Her ex- went to the Law School there, as did the father. We considered moving there, my wife even had a job offer from the hospital, and if daughter had stayed there we might have. We used to picnic and hike at the lake-impoundment just N of town, good boating too. But they ended up moving to Denver in 2011, then got divorced, and the ex moved back to Coralville. IC is a great town and I can see how one would miss it, especially moving at age 12 to a really big and unfamiliar city.
My best friend, the one from LI NY, went to Loyola-Blakefield and my impression was that it was quite rigorous in the Jesuit tradition,…I only went there to ride my bike around the nice campus and sled down the hill in front, and our neighborhood always had our Christmas party there!
I find the idea that Towson Jr High was unruly hard to figure, at least when I was there, 1962-1965, It was very well run, no problems I ever saw. Some of my favorite school years and some really terrific, enthusiastic teachers were there. I got a great launch to THS in ’65, which I absolutely hated!
I’m sure we must have had THS teachers in common- did you take Driver Ed form Mr Adkins? ’67 BelAir. I did have one Adv Chem teacher there who really inspired some later academic pursuits. The one thing I really despised was gym… typical geek/nerd that I was and still am. Our 50th reunion was this fall, but I decided I’d rather remember the few I cared about at age 18 and not fat, balding, or memory impaired.
I never had a car (until Soph yr college) or even drove to high school, but did like to ride my bike all over, to the car dealers or Gino’s on York (Gino Giant’s ruled!) or Towson Plaza. I didn’t do sports, didn’t hang with anyone who did, or who drove to school, and I didn’t drink then (might have been more fun if I had!) and there was little to no grass around at THS in 65-68, probably was soon after. Most of my Jr High friends went to Dulaney, so that sucked, and I wasn’t partiicularly garrulous in those days. It’s the only K-12 through college/grad school experience that wasn’t positive for me, however weed, alcohol & college helped to greatly improve my social experiences shortly thereafter!
Yes on Mr. Adkins. A new ’70 Impala sedan. Drove very nicely, out along Loch Raven Reservoir.
I practically lived at Gino’s after school. And Towson Plaza was #2. I didn’t do sports either, which added to my social issues.
My time at Loyola was short-lived. Then THS.. Have you seen this?
https://www.curbsideclassic.com/curbside-classics-asian/curbside-classicautobiography-1972-toyota-corona-coupe-fortieth-high-school-reunion/
Wow, thanks for that history rush! … sure do remember Ziegler, Payne, Principal Wheeler, also my favorite teachers Zelda Rosenabaum (Advanced Chem) and Carter Reifner (World & US History). I was the quiet type so never tangled with Ziegler, but knew about her! I spent as little time as I could there, went home, rode my bike around with Dennis my neighbor, and read and dreamed about cars and stereos, and curated my car ad and brochure collection.
A Mr. Adkins story: while driving with him and Allison K, she pulled up to the light at Bosley (heading east) and Dulaney Valley Rd, in the dark turquoise ’67 Belair lent by Marsden Chev. She went a bit out into the intersection before stopping so he told her to back up some, and she did. When the light changed she hit the gas and “BAM” rammed into the car right behind us at the light, she’d forgotten to put it back into “D”.! He was pretty cool about it, checked it out and no damage was done, got back in, we went on. I was impressed – he must have had nerves of steel for that job!
Besides Loyola we also hung out with our bikes at the Mission Helpers of the Sacred Heart at the other end of Chestnut until the nuns chased us noisy kids off. great grounds for biking. My friend Chris also had academic issues at Loyola, and when he moved to LA in ’66 he opted for public school. I visited him in Palos Verde (sp?) that next summer, the only time I’ve ever been to Cali, bad smog then.
Just a couple years earlier from your tenure THS was much more conservative, jocks and beer ruled, There was surprisingly little counterculture influence, we had no student Union, just Miss Dunn’s UN Club – basically an excuse to eat out at foreign restaurants. But it seems to have changed very quickly. Same way at college, when I started fall of ’68 there was compulsory chapel, girls had to sign in to the single sex dorms by 11 on weekdays and by 1 AM on w/e’s, slacks were allowed women only on permission of the Dean on coldest days, and there was mandatory ROTC for the guys. By 1970 my class and the one following had gotten rid of all that. I sold my ’63 Ford for a motorcycle (still have one), we walked in protest marches, regularly got stoned, grew hair & beards, all the usual. Kind of wish THS had been like that when I was there in a way, but probably better it wasn’t.
Yet another memory failure on my part! that Driver’s Ed incident was at the light at Fairmount and Dulaney, I’d forgotten that Bosley ended at Fairmount and you turned right at that dead end! Shouldn’t have forgotten that particular street because I went out briefly with an Alice from one of those brick apartments on Fairmount!
I was an early adopter (drugs) thanks to my inclinations and some enabling by my older brother. I was smoking pot at 15, and did LSD for the first time at 15 too. It was a Friday night and some of my Loyola classmates/friends were going out for a night of drinking. And I was doing acid. Strange bedfellows.
They though I was pretty weird, but before long they were all smoking dope too.
Transferring to TSH in the fall of ’69 was a huge relief for me, as I did not fit into the very jock/preppy scene at Loyola. At THS there was a very lively art department, and I took as many art classes as they would let me, and I made some friends I could relate to finally.
The alternative scene was blooming there, but still a decided minority. The jocks/preps were still very big, and there were just a bunch of in-between “normal” kids, but us “hippies” found each other and I made some good friendships.
I was also madly into stereo equipment, and it’s where all of my discretionary income (such as it was) went into. I was not a good saver from my after school job (it mostly went to food, drink, drugs and records), but I finally managed to put away enough to buy a low-end Dual turntable, AR4 speakers, a Nikko amplifier, and some headphones. That’s how I spent my idle hours, blasting my ears out.
Enough of Towson for one day….
I don’t know if you still live in this area, Randerson, but you mentioned where I live (Perry Hall) and how different is was at only 5 miles east back then.
Anymore, Parkville and Perry Hall have just become eastern extensions of Towson, as the whole area has kind of blended together as one big suburbia since those days.
I grew up in Rosedale, and worked at Black & Decker as my first real job (not counting McDonald’s). I would drive west to get there on Putty Hill, Joppa, or Taylor Ave, when I wasn’t in the mood for the Beltway (695). Even by the late-seventies/early-eighties these areas kinda blended together.
I can’t relate to the Parochial School to comments, other than several of the kids in my neighborhood went to St. Clements, while my sister and I attended Red House Run. As a really twisted sort of CC Effect for today, we used to get jealous when they would have a day off of school seemingly every other week to celebrate some random saint no one had ever heard of… well, it’s like that today for me. Traffic was uncharacteristically easy today. Then I realized it’s Veterans Day (observed). Yeah, like Parochial School, that’s a Government Worker’s (and Bank’s) holiday only. Not for us folks in the private sector! ***
*** No offense to our fine veterans. And as always, Thank You for Your Service!
No Rick, I left the area for college in ’68 and the folks moved to NC (Paul, if you think racism was bad in Balto…!) and we now live in upstate NY, been back maybe 4-5 times since. I probably wouldn’t recognize much, but I do know your areas. Beth Steel moved my parents from Boston to Loch Raven Village Apartments in ’48 for their first couple years there. Later I used to love Baynesville Electronics on Joppa just W of LR Blvd as I was into really music and audio, also the 1st McD’s I ever went to was right next door. In the ’50s each suburb had only recently been “country” and had it’s own personality but shortly due to employers like Sparrows Point, B&D, Martin, Westinghouse, Western Electric, GM Broening Hwy, &c mass commuting and the Beltway really changed it… I remember driving with Dad in the ’59 Ford the very day the Beltway opened in ’62!
We lived in Catonsville until mid-1965, when my Dad changed jobs from Westinghouse to IBM, when we moved up to Vermont (the first time; we moved to Virginia after and back to Vermont in the mid-70’s). I think we moved there sometime in late 1962 or early 1963. Early in my Dad’s career he moved around a lot (every other year or so) but that slowed down later, though only my youngest sister finished the same high school that she started.
My sister and I went to parochial school (St. Agnes). My sister’s nun one year was actually taught by my Aunt back in Pennsylvania. They were pretty strict, but I think it gave us a good start…there wasn’t a Catholic school convenient to where we lived in Burlington (we still were a 1 car family and no bus)…so we went to public School (Thayer…no longer a school). Stayed in public school from then on, including University.
Sorry this doesn’t have anything to do with the 1966 Ford…we had a ’63 Rambler Wagon that was totaled outside the Holiday Inn in Catonsville when we were in the process of moving. My Dad somehow got back up to Vermont where he replaced it with a ’65 Olds F85 Wagon from Val Preda’s in South Burlington.
In the mid to late ‘70s, the nuns in our small town parish drove a ‘67 Fairlane 500 2 door hardtop in a copper/ bronze color. IIRC, it had a black vinyl top and the engine was either a 289 or 302. Fordomatic on the column, naturally.
Some time not long after I graduated high school, I think the Fairlane was replaced by a Ford Granada 4 door.
Oh and it probably helped that I didn’t go to Catholic school either, I would not have done well with that. Rebellion was the currency of ’60s teens, and that would have certainly been the result.
Two years would be enough for anyone Paul. I had twelve. In the eight years of Catholic grammar school I witnessed and was victim to enough verbal and physical abuse by priests and nuns to last a lifetime. They were way in over their heads. The lay teachers were the polar opposite and I have fond memories of them. The four years of Catholic high school was a little better.
On the automotive side I still get the shakes if I see an early 70’s copper colored Ford Torino sedan on the street (which is rarely) as a fleet of these made up their motor pool
It’s amazing what seeing a particular car can trigger.
While I didn’t have to endure such a situation in my younger years, Mrs. Jason and I did so in our late 20s when we moved to St. Joseph. While we were still in the same state it was nearly 400 miles away from where we had lived in Cape Girardeau and the differences were quite palpable.
On multiple occasions I had people in St. Joseph ask me “which high school I attended”. Each time when the person was informed I was a transplant, the response was a condescending “oh, okay” and they turned their back to me. The amount of similar condescension I experienced at work was similar from some. I’ve strongly suspected these people, like what you experienced in Towson, had never ventured outside the 51 square miles that is St. Joe.
On the flip side, I did have some great experiences with people there. If anyone I knew from there reads this, I’ll leave it up to them to guess where they fell.
About nuns….we pulled our daughter out of a Catholic kindergarten in Hannibal for a multitude of reasons. But my father-in-law attended a Catholic elementary school years ago. When he was in second grade one of the nuns was harshly disciplining his older sister. He ran up to the nun, striking her, and loudly asking “do you enjoy being such a mean old bitch?”.
This was a great story, doing this Ford justice.
Awesome mad penguin story, Jason.
This exact model, and many other old Ford sedans featured prominently in the Dirty Harry Films…Here is one of my favorite clips:
https://youtu.be/8Xjr2hnOHiM
I can relate to your tale of nunnery quite well. For nine long years, I was consigned to Rosarian Academy, a private Catholic school that was administrated by the Adrian Dominican Sisters. Rulers across desks and hands were a constant, but at least the nuns were kind in most other aspects. Oh, and I also had an actual art class!
Paul, the clicker for ‘trained pets’ just kills me! I think I do better understand your feelings toward full size Fords now.
Our nuns (St. Francis Cabrini): powder blue (non-metallic so I guess it was perhaps baby blue but that seems inappropriate in this context) 1973 Chevelle Colonnade sedan. Had it at least until I left for college in 1987. Dog dish hubcaps. I assumed it was donated by someone at Miller & Sons Chevrolet.
I hope this does it with all the Catholic bashing. A Catholic education has always been a choice and it’s demands are not for everyone. No need for perjoratives. Personally, I found the Jesuits to possess incredible intellect who constantly challenged you to perform far beyond what you thought you were capable of. These intellectual drill instructors had as profound a positive effect on their recruits as any D.I. at Parris Island.
As this is a car site, the nuns at St. Clare elementary in Essex, Maryland shared a ’59 Bel Air 4 door sedan. Black, of course. Six cylinder, the only options being Powerglide and power steering.
In fairness, CPJ, a Jesuit education was usually pretty enlightened compared to the experience many others had across the period Paul is writing about. And even fairer, there’s quite a few prominent women in this country who aren’t believers who are always happy to praise the nuns who saw their abilities and nurtured them when circumstances otherwise would’ve meant the talent went to waste.
Oh my! In far away Oz, a Ford Galaxie just like this was a high-end purchase for posh folk. The very thought of a bunch of nuns motoring in it gives me the giggles. Try picturing your local penguin mob all equipped with Cadillacs, or Mercedes.
Here, the low-line stuff the nuns had was all small and basic Beetles, Hillmans, Geminis (T-cars), and the like.
The teaching and organisational methods, however, were as PN has described, though the worst was falling away when I was in the system a bit after his time. I’ll admit too, that despite an early lack of belief, I didn’t have PN’s rebellious streak to react against things much. I can’t say I ever suffered personally, even if my priest principal from high school is currently serving time for abuse.
I was listening to an alternate sound track to these photos last night – The Reverend Horton Heat’s “ Galaxy 500”. I highly recommended it and all his work!
Hah! now that I think of it, I went in the opposite direction-from twelve years of Franciscan nuns of varying pedagogical quality, to two rather dark years in the conservative (socially and politically) landscape at Iowa State, to two glorious years in Iowa City at the University. Where your Literature grad student instructor was likely to wear natural fabrics, smell of sandalwood, and come bounding in to class so that she could read you her latest poem that had been published in the New Yorker. And the radical priest came over from Davenport on Saturday nights after the library closed and said Mass for you and all your friends, no matter what their denomination. I learned there that I could write, a little, that I could make friends, and that I could believe in a better world. I am glad, Paul, that you were able to spend some time in River City as a child, and that you got to win those awards for your art work. I like to think that that little bit of encouragement you got in that direction helps to sustain you in the art projects for human habitation that we are blessed to have you occasionally share with us. And that, perhaps, it nurtured you in developing your wonderful eye for automotive design.
Gee, cars and memories. A 66 Ford triggers opposite memories for me. My aunt’s new 66 LTD coupe is in the driveway, black over Vintage Burgundy – like this one on the brochure cover but with painted (not vinyl) black roof. I have a brand new driver’s license. She tosses me the keys and says “Take it for a drive, honey, it is so quiet and smooth.” And it was, though with the 289, just an adequate performer. I loved that beautiful car, for me the very best big Ford design of the decade. Of course, I loved the 63 Grand Prix where this car got many of its styling cues. Also my aunt’s LTD was a good car, one she kept for over ten years until trading it in for, IIRC, a 77 LTD, white vinyl roof over electric blue, hideous and of very low quality and reliability.
My father test-drove a used ’65 Custom 500 with the 240 6 and the 3 speed on the column in 1966, and it would have been a wonderful, fairly lively daily driver, as I recall (and the engine and driveline probably would have outlasted several bodies and frames here in the rust belt.) I was a year away from driving on the road (but drove plenty on the farm) and would love to have had that Ford. Alas, we ended up with a ’65 Falcon 2 door with the 170 6 and three speed with the non-synchronized low (not such a detriment except for mother who couldn’t consistently double-clutch.) The Falcon wasn’t a bad car, but certainly wasn’t in the same category as the full-size Fords of the day. 6.50-13 bias ply tires and the Falcon’s light weight made it fairly skittish on the open road, especially with a cross wind, and the brakes were unpredictable in the rain as I remember. As I recall, it didn’t seem much different than the big Ford in acceleration, maintaining speed on hills, etc. Considering today’s vehicles, I’d take either one of them back this minute, if only not to have a computer second-guessing me at every opportunity, and to have a smooth straight 6 of any kind again. I guess I’m a big time Luddite!