There are many American dishes that have gained international fame and demand. You know the ones; hamburgers, hot dogs, buffalo wings, pizzas -from NY to Chicago style- and even BBQ ribs. Then, there are other American plates not quite so known abroad, like chicken pot pies or meatloaf. In my case, it wasn’t until I finally moved to the US mainland in 1990 that I discovered and developed an affinity for such dishes, in particular meatloaf.
Why meatloaf hasn’t made it beyond the English-speaking world is beyond me. Maybe it’s because it isn’t on the menu of some US fast food chain; the starting point for international fame. As far as I know, there’s no McMeatloaf (and I secretly hope there’ll never be).
In any case, ever since I left the US in the early 00s, I occasionally have a craving for the dish. And whenever I visit the US, I know what my itinerary will be; get a rental as soon as I land in LAX, and after seeing my LA friends, take the I-5 towards SF to visit my old work colleagues in the City by the Bay. Halfway through that drive, I know my obligatory stopover will be at none other than Pea Soup Andersen’s in Santa Nella, where I always order a hearty serving of meatloaf.
I absolutely love diners, and while I also enjoyed the cosmopolitan goods California offered -from Thai to Moroccan food, etc.- I always cherished visiting traditional diners. And during my LA days in the 90s, we used to see them all with my roommate from Wyoming. In those outings, I learned about those dishes that never found their way into a McDonald’s menu, from Patty Melts to French Dips and more. But in the end, few things competed against my liking for meatloaf.
It was somewhat different after I moved to the City by the Bay. For some reason, American diners were not quite common in good ol’ SF. I used to go with my pals for lunch and try all kinds of gourmet-like or ethnic dishes; artisan pizzas, Asian cuisine, etc. But rarely any diners. There was Mel’s Drive Inn, of American Graffiti fame, which we did visit a few times. Though I only remember myself ever ordering meatloaf. Then again, my pals probably just preferred the meatloaf they grew up with at home. Hard to compete with Mom’s cooking.
So, yes, I like the dish. And please ignore the parsley in the online-sourced image above. If you remember The Flintstones well, the only purpose of parsley is to decorate servings and be dutifully thrown away before eating.
Maybe it’s too traditional a dish, or just plain too common, but no gourmet channel devotes much time to meatloaf recipes. Unless they muck it up with something like sriracha sauce or any other odd choice. Gourmets just can’t leave food alone, you know?
In any case, meatloaf is just there, being quietly fulfilling, and not calling much attention to itself. Qualities that sort of apply to this meatloaf-gravy-colored 1950 Plymouth. After all, it was the age of the sensible and practical Chryslers, passionless vehicles for families whose only desire was reliable transportation. A hearty companion, there to serve faithfully and to satisfy its owner without fuzz. A known and dependable quantity.
Before we go any further, a brief break. Plymouth fans must be wondering what in the world is wrong with the meatloaf-gravy 1950 model I found in San Salvador. Well, that’s just Salvadorian creativity, and their ever-curious efforts to keep their rides in presentable fashion once the original trim is lost.
For non-Plymouth fans, here’s another 1950 appearing in a local car show. It’s in a far better presentation and much closer to what the car would’ve looked like when new.
Hard to imagine nowadays, but when the new Chryslers of 1949 arrived, the carmaker was Detroit’s number 2. Back in 1936, Walter P. Chrysler’s company had surpassed Ford in sales; an astonishing feat for the then decade-old enterprise. It had remained ever there, second only to all-mighty GM. But by the late ’40s changes were a-coming; Ford was gaining steam, under the direction of Henry Ford II and his Whiz Kids, while GM was redoubling efforts to remain number 1.
Meanwhile, the US public had an appetite for the cars it had imagined during the doldrums of war. Sleek new shapes for the future of the automobile had appeared in publications such as Popular Mechanics and the like. Nash and Hudson would oblige, while GM and Ford were about to offer more restrained versions of such visions. However, those eager to see daring and bold new forms would find none at Chrysler.
As it was Chrysler’s habit, much engineering had gone into the new ’49 products. “Lower outside, higher inside, shorter outside, narrower outside, wider inside” was the company’s description for the new models. Regardless of later appreciation, in ’49, ’50, and ’51 the new line sold in record numbers; credit to the company’s reputation for engineering and owner loyalty. However, Ford crept awfully close to taking the number 2 spot in ’49 and ’50, a sign that change was in the air.
Much blame for the dowdy appearance of Chrysler’s ’49-’51 models is placed directly on the company’s then-president K. T. Keller. But then again, Chrysler’s mantle had been engineering and efficiency, and a conservative approach to design had worked wonders for over a decade. Why change habits at that point? Businesslike practicality had placed the company at number 2, not fancy wardrobes. By logic, evidence showed the method worked. Who was to know that fashion was going to take over the business?
That said, Keller is definitely behind the shape of the ’49-’51 line, as he directed their development. As it’s known, his affinity for no-frills design is legendary, mostly captured in a speech given in 1948 at the Stanford University School for Business: “… there are parts of the country containing millions of people where both men and women are in the habit of getting behind the wheel… wearing hats.”
Chrysler styling was nominally under the guidance of Henry King. Though according to Chrysler senior modeler Bill Miller, Keller was very much involved in the process: “Keller used to come into the clay rooms and pull up a stool and sit down beside the model, sometimes for hours, directing the styling of cars under development. He wanted his own way and he usually got it.” Miller also confirmed that Keller had a talent for expletives, so we’re talking about working environments of ‘yore.
Chrysler’s stylist had other worries besides Keller. The styling department, such as it was, was located on the top floor of the Engineering building. Not surprisingly, the considerations of engineering got priority over all else.
For the ’49 line, some of the practical Engineering-Keller decisions meant the vehicles would have high roofs and upright seats, with a big cowl vent for fresh air. Passenger comfort was the top priority. Also, rear fenders were bolted, for easy replacement and repair; while the tall old-fashioned hood remained to provide easy access for maintenance.
In the end, the whole line was not only conservative in its approach, but it was also uniformly applied throughout the company’s realm; giving every single Chrysler product a Plymouth-esque look.
Thanks to hindsight, we know that by the mid-’50s Chrysler’s bottom line was to be in freefall. Not that Keller was blind to market shifts. In due time, he got himself a new tailor by the name of Exner. However the US market was red hot at the moment, and after that slip, the company never again enjoyed the success it had from ’36 to ’51.
But all that is beyond the scope of today’s find, to which we now turn again. So, how did this meatloaf-gravy-hued Plymouth come to appear in one of San Salvador’s humble repair shops?
In the case of Plymouth, the brand probably gained notoriety back in the early ’40s, when local news covered a ’41 model driven by 3 Americans on their way to Cape Horn in Argentina. It was quite a stunt, and the Plymouth fared rather well the whole ordeal. The model’s ruggedness and prowess over non-existent roads were often highlighted in local coverage as it crossed the continent. In the above image, here are the Americans driving over Oaxaca’s dirt roads, in Southern Mexico.
Chrysler products were sold in El Salvador by the Franken family, themselves of US origin. Although it has appeared in previous posts of mine, it deserves to be mentioned again; the fancy Art Deco showroom of the Franken’s survives to this day in San Salvador, and its Auto-Palace sign still crowns the structure. The area surrounding the building is now in run-down condition, though the structure still serves of use, and is occupied by small auto-supply stores.
So, San Salvador used to have Plymouths and this is a rare survivor. No mystery there. Oddly, I spotted this one in a repair shop in a low-class neighborhood, half a block away from where I had found a ’55 Chevrolet wagon. Kind of a weird coincidence actually. What kind of neighborhood was this? San Salvador’s old American iron area?
With the car being inside a repair shop there was no way to avoid interaction. Since I’ve faced a bit of everything during my finds, I was ready for anything. Best scenario? The car would be for sale and they would just let me shoot at ease.
Indeed, the car was for sale! No big surprise there. Of my finds, about 30% suddenly turn out to be ‘on sale’ once I start taking pics. Luckily, this time the sales pitch was short-lived, and I was given free rein to take photos while I occasionally inquired about the vehicle.
As I have shown in previous posts, Salvadorians have a peculiar penchant for customizing, and this Plymouth is no exception. I suppose that as the original trim got lost or damaged, some prior owner got creative and added many chromey bits at whim. I’ll just say that he must have been a Harley Earl admirer.
The odd trim makes it hard to pinpoint which Plymouth exactly we’re seeing here, though I think it’s a Special De Luxe. And while the added chrome is annoying, the body seems remarkably rust-free. Should one desire to do so, it should be easy to get this Plymouth back to its original condition.
The interior is remarkably clean as well, and it looks mighty inviting too. I can suddenly see where K. T. Keller and Chrysler’s Engineering priorities were, and I’ll even admit that I have a sudden urge to sit in this old cabin. With a hat over my head, of course.
Also in this shot, you’ll notice some brake components, which is the reason the car sits in makeshift stands. As the repair man told me, the shop hadn’t found a number of parts to fix the brake system. I’ll admit I was briefly tempted to hand them my Ebay account info just to see this bit of automotive-meatloaf back on the road. Luckily, I found the will to restrain myself.
Here’s a bit of more gravy; not that tasty, but it will suffice. Chrysler’s dependable, and satisfying -for the times- L-Head 6-cyl. engine, providing 95 hp at 3500 rpm. I’m told it works, and I suppose it does so since those spark plugs look rather new and ready to fire.
I’m not familiar with old inline engines, but to my eye, this looked rather large and very mechanical. A window to a bygone age. It was quite a nice sight and got me thinking of the time when most US cars were powered by such mills.
Just like meatloaf isn’t the thing most associated with cooking channels, an old Plymouth Sixer isn’t the first thing that pops to mind when American cars of the fifties are mentioned. Not a problem with that in my book. After all, I’m sure this Plymouth’s service must have been rather satisfying to its original owners. A bit hard to imagine for me now, but I come from a rather spoiled generation.
Further reading:
Curbside Classic: 1951 Plymouth Cranbrook – Automotive Immortality
Cohort Classic: 1950 Plymouth All-Steel Wagon – The First Modern Station Wagon
That one en route to Cape Horn is a ’41. I first read about that expedition back in the seventies. As a teenager I was amazed to think of them attempting such a trip by car back then.
These seemed to be quite popular here in Australia, being rather conservatively styled (okay, very) and super tough. The original rear fender style didn’t last long before they replaced them in an attempt to make the car look longer. Likewise it lost the CHMSL Chrysler cars sported in the forties.
I quite like the colour, though I’d prefer it without the added chrome on the front. And what on earth is that weird hood ornament? That sure ain’t no Plymouth-bound sailing ship.
Chrysler OZ still had that bodyshell in production as their Chyrsler Royal AP4 until it was replaced by the AP5 valiant, NZ Chryslers were a confusing thing we had new cars from Canada Plodges and Deplotos and of course Plymouths plus used US cars turning up as hand luggage they had to be kept 2 years as the importers car before being sold to avoid import duties plus we got some Royals from Australia, it took me a while to figure it all out, Pontiacs had the same disease.
I’d much rather dig into a slab of meatloaf than deal with a meal that provokes thoughts of Gordon Ramsay screaming his ass off about the temperature of the aioli being two degrees off. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered more than one or two restaurants with meatloaf on the menu, but Mom and both Grandmas are/were masters of the meatloafing craft.
I do appreciate the solidity of the 1949-54 Chrysler products, though I think 1955-56 is the sweet spot where engineering and high build quality crossed paths with sweet styling… before veering into the ditch in 1957. I would much rather have a 1955 Plymouth than I would a Chevy or Ford, even though you need a co-pilot to monitor engine temperature and oil pressure from the passenger seat in the Plymouth.
The tail light lenses in our featured Plymouth appear to be formed from the generic prismatic lens material of a fluorescent troffer, colored pink. I’m quite amazed that they were able to cut and bend that stuff with no rough edges or cracks; probably at least twice the effort it would take to source correct ones!
mmmmmm, fully agree with the meatloaf!!
Nice way of describing a wholly different Chrysler when engineering truly was king.
Sadly, that move away from engineering to style that began in 1955 would completely go out the door when Iacocca took the reins in 1979. Yeah, he rescued the company by working the same magic he had used over at Ford (the remarkable game-changing T-115 minivan played no small part), but something was lost as the company abandoned ‘Extra Care in Engineering’ to survive.
I had a 1951 Plymouth Cambridge when I was in college. It was 15 years old when I inherited it from my grandmother. I drove it from Pennsylvania to Iowa and back. It was a tough old car. I did buy new tires for the trip, the cheapest offered by Sears. I think they were under $10 apiece.
The front is 39 + 50, and it works nicely.
The customizer mounted a more modern radio inside the original speaker grille. The original radio was below the speaker.
Paul N did a post (or two) on how the Keller cars of the post war period (like this Plymouth) are very similar in size (length, width, height, and even shape) to the top selling vehicles of current times such as the RAV4 and CRV.
What is old is new again.
Of course MPG and 0-60 times are vastly improved from the 1950s.
Here is one of Paul’s posts on this topic: https://www.curbsideclassic.com/blog/history/mini-comparison-1949-plymouth-suburban-wagon-and-2017-toyota-rav4-almost-identical-dimensions/
There’s a variation on the meatloaf that I became fond of while at my first job out of college in South San Francisco – the meatloaf sandwich. A slab of meatloaf on a sourdough roll or even better, a dutch crunch roll, itself another local specialty. Then the normal sandwich toppings, i.e. lettuce, pickles etc. As I recall we’d go to a diner named Hogan’s Cafe (how is it that I recall this??) that was inside sort of a trucking terminal. There was another place we just called the “dirty pink place” nearby that had a good one as well. Other than those two I’ve always found there to be far too much variability in normal meatloaf to choose it off a menu.
Andersen’s I’ve been to as well but more often the Buellton location, though it seems odd to not get the split pea soup as it’s the one thing they really do and where else can you get that?. I can’t recall ever ordering anything else or even looking at the menu, maybe I wasn’t aware there was anything else actually on offer…
In any case, that was quite the Joseph Dennis-esque connection you made there, Rich, good job!
These were the previews to the “downsized” ’62 Plymouth and Dodge: shorter, narrower, lower floor, higher roof with resultant improved interior space. A triumph of space efficiency over the longer, lower, wider mantra. No wonder I love these cars.
And were they ever rugged and durable too. When we moved to Iowa City in 1960, there were a number of them still in front line use in our neighborhood of largely university professors and doctors. In fact, the first car I ever rode in was a Plymouth wagon that my dad’s boss’ wife drove to to pick us up at the Cedar Rapids airport.
And in 1975-1976, the GM of the Iowa City Transit system drove one as his winter beater. It was still in great shape. Iowa City didn’t use salt until some time in the ’70s, so rust was really not very common until then.
As for meat loaf, I have mixed feelings, as my mother’s meat loaf, like much of her cooking, was pretty iffy. And I used to be pretty wary about it as a result. But I’ve come around, and Stephanie makes a killer version, although it’s been a long time…
As to Split Pea Andersen’s, been to various locations back in the day, mostly at their Mammoth Mountain one. Perfect after a long day of skiing.
Meatloaf is one of those things that no two people make in quite the same way. Like Paul’s mother, my own made a meatloaf that I was never crazy about. However, Mrs. JPC makes a really good one.
I really love Mopars from the peak of Chrysler’s Keller era. If I had my druthers, it would be the generation before these. I would also like one higher up the model chain, so as to include the famous Fluid Drive. So this is not a car I would go looking for, but it is one I would have a hard time resisting if it were to plunk itself in my path and say “please buy me”.
I am curious about the power brake booster in the passenger compartment and the new one under the hood. Power brakes were either never offered or were extremely uncommon on Plymouths for some years after this. I think I would prefer the simplicity of manuals on a car like this (although a dual circuit brake system might be a worthwhile upgrade).
I have been to Pea Soup Andersen’s. I was visiting Santa Maria, CA to taste the origins of Santa Maria tri-tip barbecue, and Andersen’s was on the list of “must visit places” in the area. I felt as though whatever it once might have been, it has morphed itself into a tourist trap, with ordinary but overpriced food. If your restaurant is named after your signature dish, it ought to be damned good, but the pea soup was nothing I couldn’t make at home.
Boston Market has meatloaf but I don’t care for their particular version.
Rich, it’s interesting that here in Uruguay the meatloaf is a very common home dish (I don’t think anybody would order it at a restaurant). As JPC said above, some of us remember that at our homes the meatloaf was not anything to write home about. Well…I was home and a kid, LOL.
Besides that, here it’s called exactly the same, i.e. “Pan de carne”.
Then again, Uruguay is about 3.5 million people….not enough either to wear enough hats to make KT Keller think about us, nor to move any needle towards our meatloaf. But, T-bones, that another thing!
Sadly the Anderson’s many of us remember is long gone, indeed it’s a cheap and cheerless tourist trap now, I used to love the pea soup .
These ‘Keller Cars’ really were the shiznit and many remained as daily drivers of little old ladies and cheap beaters well into the 1970’s, now they’re all gone it seems .
Dowdy looking yes but ride in or drive one and you’ll understand why they were #2 .
Much quieter than Fords / Chevies too .
I too love meatloaf, every one makes it slightly differently, that’s often a plus for me .
There’s a local “GOOGIE” diner that has meatloaf and liver with grilled onions too, I plan to have that for lunch tomorrow .
-Nate