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| Cruisin’ the Past by Ed Dooley |
Cruisin’ Speedway
In September’s essay, the subject was road trips. These were occasional
automobile adventures into the foothills, up into the surrounding mountains, or even
farther from Tucson. But there was another kind of “road trip” that was much more
common, covered a much shorter in distance, and was confined to one relatively
small section of town. This was the Friday and Saturday night ride up and down a
portion of Speedway Boulevard, an activity known as “cruising.”
Cruisin’ was one of the main teenage pastimes in Tucson in the 1950s. It required a
car and some gas money. But not just any car would do. To be “cool,” you had to
have a desirable car, and the most popular car at the time was the ’57 Chevy with
fins, a red body, a white top, and white leather seat covers. If it was a convertible, so
much the better! Some of the wealthier kids had T-birds, Corvettes, or even
European sports cars, but this was rare. The grandest cars of all were painted
“candy apple” red, green, or blue, which was a deep, bright finish that was the envy
of many teenagers. Few of us had such “dream cars,” so we had to settle for the
family sedan.
It was also highly desirable that the car be “raked,” meaning that the car was lower to
the ground at one end than the other. There was the New York rake, where the nose
of the car nearly scraped the pavement, and there was the California rake, where the
rear end went nearly to the road. The California rake was not only more popular in
Tucson, but it was cheaper to effect: all one had to do was to fill the trunk with cinder
blocks to weigh it down. This was especially convenient when using the family car
because the rake was only temporary and could be removed before arriving home.
All the driver had to fear was that some permanent damage had been done to the
springs.
One “rule” of cruisin’ was that sometimes the driver, and always the passenger(s),
had to sink way down into the car seat so that only his head was showing in the
window. This indicated that the occupants were “cool” or nonchalant and only slightly
interested in the passing parade. The truth of the matter, however, is that cruisin’
was done precisely for the purpose of seeing and being seen. It was a way to
discover who was out, what was happening, who was “going” with whom, and to
learn of any parties in the neighborhood. Another reason that boys went criusin’ was
to “pick up chicks”; however, success in this mission was rarely if ever experienced
by anyone I knew.
There was a predetermined cruisin’ course: it went from Johnie’s “Fat Boy” Drive-in,
at the northeast corner of Tucson Boulevard and Speedway, the social center and
meeting place for our part of Tucson, to the A&W Root Beer Drive-in, a couple of
miles east on Speedway, and back again. A parade cars, to the sound of music
from KTKT Color Radio 99, rolled up and down this track for hours. Along the way
were a number of familiar landmarks.
From Johnie’s, one passed the Catalina United Methodist Church on the right and,
even at that late date, undeveloped and open fields on the left, until arriving at a
cluster of stores at Speedway and Country Club. Passing through this intersection,
it was standard practice to peer quickly to the right at the open door of the Blue Note
Cocktail Lounge, which was reputed to have exotic dancers, though they were never
seen by us from the road. To the left was Blakely’s, where we all gassed up with
“America’s FINEST Power-fuel Gasoline” for between fifteen cents and twenty-five
cents a gallon and where, if we “filled up,” we received as a free premium a “hand-
cut Arizona crystal cactus tumbler.”
Further down Speedway, on the right, was El Rancho Shopping Center for groceries
and Korby’s for clothes. Not far up the street, on the left, was Fran Coffee’s Printing
Service, where the Trojan Trumpeteer was printed, and what once was the Polar
Bar, on the right, one of Tucson’s first drive-in restaurants. Beyond was Precision
Motors, with a lot filled with Austen Healey’s, Jaguars, MGs, Triumphs, and other
“foreign” cars. Then, at the top of a hill at Speedway and Dodge, one passed the
Rio Rita cocktail lounge on the right, an adobe building with a large saguaro cactus
sign on its roof, and Gary and John Dietz’s father’s auto repair and painting shop on
the left. From there it was downhill to Alvernon, with one of Tucson’s first McDonald’
s at the corner, past the remnants of Kiddyland, on the left, past the Lucky Strike
Bowl, and finally arriving at the A&W.
Almost all of these landmarks are gone now, demolished when Speedway was
widened in the 1970s and 1980s. And that’s not all. Because of Speedway’s
narrowness and traffic congestion back then, cars moved at a reasonable speed,
making cruisin’ a relaxed activity, but widening seems to have speeded things up
considerably. Furthermore Tucson now has an anti-cruising law.
Back at Johnie’s, cars moved slowly and in line through the drive-in lot as kids
looked for friends or, occasionally, for empty bays. When a parking space did open
up, the driver would park and a carhop would soon come out to take orders – usually
for milk shakes or cherry cokes. In a few moments, she would return with the order
and place it on a tray that was fastened to the driver’s side window. Sometimes
kids preferred to go into the restaurant and crowd into a booth to order Johnie’s
“Famous Fat Boy Hamburger” with fried onion rings or French fries, all for sixty-five
cents, and listen to records (45s) on the juke box, make plans, trade gossip, and
generally have a good time. And then it was back into the car and back to cruisin’.
As suddenly as this evening parade began on a Friday or Saturday, it ended. As the
hour grew late, traffic diminished on Speedway, fewer cars passed in review, more
bays became open to those who were there to eat rather than to visit, the gaudy
commercial signs and lights of Speedway glowed in the night, and teenagers
headed for home laughing at each other for having wasted yet another evening at
this seemingly pointless routine. However, they knew for sure that next weekend
they would be back out there on Speedway cruisin’ with their friends.
In September’s essay, the subject was road trips. These were occasional
automobile adventures into the foothills, up into the surrounding mountains, or even
farther from Tucson. But there was another kind of “road trip” that was much more
common, covered a much shorter in distance, and was confined to one relatively
small section of town. This was the Friday and Saturday night ride up and down a
portion of Speedway Boulevard, an activity known as “cruising.”
Cruisin’ was one of the main teenage pastimes in Tucson in the 1950s. It required a
car and some gas money. But not just any car would do. To be “cool,” you had to
have a desirable car, and the most popular car at the time was the ’57 Chevy with
fins, a red body, a white top, and white leather seat covers. If it was a convertible, so
much the better! Some of the wealthier kids had T-birds, Corvettes, or even
European sports cars, but this was rare. The grandest cars of all were painted
“candy apple” red, green, or blue, which was a deep, bright finish that was the envy
of many teenagers. Few of us had such “dream cars,” so we had to settle for the
family sedan.
It was also highly desirable that the car be “raked,” meaning that the car was lower to
the ground at one end than the other. There was the New York rake, where the nose
of the car nearly scraped the pavement, and there was the California rake, where the
rear end went nearly to the road. The California rake was not only more popular in
Tucson, but it was cheaper to effect: all one had to do was to fill the trunk with cinder
blocks to weigh it down. This was especially convenient when using the family car
because the rake was only temporary and could be removed before arriving home.
All the driver had to fear was that some permanent damage had been done to the
springs.
One “rule” of cruisin’ was that sometimes the driver, and always the passenger(s),
had to sink way down into the car seat so that only his head was showing in the
window. This indicated that the occupants were “cool” or nonchalant and only slightly
interested in the passing parade. The truth of the matter, however, is that cruisin’
was done precisely for the purpose of seeing and being seen. It was a way to
discover who was out, what was happening, who was “going” with whom, and to
learn of any parties in the neighborhood. Another reason that boys went criusin’ was
to “pick up chicks”; however, success in this mission was rarely if ever experienced
by anyone I knew.
There was a predetermined cruisin’ course: it went from Johnie’s “Fat Boy” Drive-in,
at the northeast corner of Tucson Boulevard and Speedway, the social center and
meeting place for our part of Tucson, to the A&W Root Beer Drive-in, a couple of
miles east on Speedway, and back again. A parade cars, to the sound of music
from KTKT Color Radio 99, rolled up and down this track for hours. Along the way
were a number of familiar landmarks.
From Johnie’s, one passed the Catalina United Methodist Church on the right and,
even at that late date, undeveloped and open fields on the left, until arriving at a
cluster of stores at Speedway and Country Club. Passing through this intersection,
it was standard practice to peer quickly to the right at the open door of the Blue Note
Cocktail Lounge, which was reputed to have exotic dancers, though they were never
seen by us from the road. To the left was Blakely’s, where we all gassed up with
“America’s FINEST Power-fuel Gasoline” for between fifteen cents and twenty-five
cents a gallon and where, if we “filled up,” we received as a free premium a “hand-
cut Arizona crystal cactus tumbler.”
Further down Speedway, on the right, was El Rancho Shopping Center for groceries
and Korby’s for clothes. Not far up the street, on the left, was Fran Coffee’s Printing
Service, where the Trojan Trumpeteer was printed, and what once was the Polar
Bar, on the right, one of Tucson’s first drive-in restaurants. Beyond was Precision
Motors, with a lot filled with Austen Healey’s, Jaguars, MGs, Triumphs, and other
“foreign” cars. Then, at the top of a hill at Speedway and Dodge, one passed the
Rio Rita cocktail lounge on the right, an adobe building with a large saguaro cactus
sign on its roof, and Gary and John Dietz’s father’s auto repair and painting shop on
the left. From there it was downhill to Alvernon, with one of Tucson’s first McDonald’
s at the corner, past the remnants of Kiddyland, on the left, past the Lucky Strike
Bowl, and finally arriving at the A&W.
Almost all of these landmarks are gone now, demolished when Speedway was
widened in the 1970s and 1980s. And that’s not all. Because of Speedway’s
narrowness and traffic congestion back then, cars moved at a reasonable speed,
making cruisin’ a relaxed activity, but widening seems to have speeded things up
considerably. Furthermore Tucson now has an anti-cruising law.
Back at Johnie’s, cars moved slowly and in line through the drive-in lot as kids
looked for friends or, occasionally, for empty bays. When a parking space did open
up, the driver would park and a carhop would soon come out to take orders – usually
for milk shakes or cherry cokes. In a few moments, she would return with the order
and place it on a tray that was fastened to the driver’s side window. Sometimes
kids preferred to go into the restaurant and crowd into a booth to order Johnie’s
“Famous Fat Boy Hamburger” with fried onion rings or French fries, all for sixty-five
cents, and listen to records (45s) on the juke box, make plans, trade gossip, and
generally have a good time. And then it was back into the car and back to cruisin’.
As suddenly as this evening parade began on a Friday or Saturday, it ended. As the
hour grew late, traffic diminished on Speedway, fewer cars passed in review, more
bays became open to those who were there to eat rather than to visit, the gaudy
commercial signs and lights of Speedway glowed in the night, and teenagers
headed for home laughing at each other for having wasted yet another evening at
this seemingly pointless routine. However, they knew for sure that next weekend
they would be back out there on Speedway cruisin’ with their friends.
| Dick Martin and his Corvette |
