The "Fadeaway Ford"

Once upon a time in the '50s, there was a style of hot rod known as the Sports Rod or Sports Custom, depending on the car's intended role in life--running the Mexican Road Race or cruisin' the boulevard. Now it has been said (I know I read it somewhere, and more than once, too) that hot rods, at least hot rodded roadsters, were built by young Americans who had been to the big city and "seen the elephant." Okay, would you believe "been to Europe and seen sports cars during WWII?" Then, upon being discharged from the service, proceeded to create their own versions of the genre on limited budgets with used domestic automotive components. To this fanciful explanation of "Where did hot rods come from, Daddy?", I say, "Bull!" If you know anything at all about hot rod history, even from the brief exposure to modifieds you received in our September issue's "Gow Jobs and Thingamabobs," in concert with artist Harry Bentley Bradley's brilliant concepts for contemporary-style rods based on the style in his "Modifieds, a State of Mind" sketchpad piece, then you also know that this wasn't necessarily so, at least not in sunny Southern California. For it was there, in a virtually smog-free environment, that hot rodded roadsters (or gow jobs) roamed the earth during the '30s, taking the place of woolly mammoths and saber-toothed cats who had "exited stage left" in the petroleum ooze along La Brea Ave.

There was another thing to disprove such an off-base theory about hot rod genesis as well. The young roadster drivers in question shared those freshly-minted miles of near empty (by today's standards, anyway) ribbons of pre-freeway urban asphalt (there's those darned tar pits again) with the occasional Talbot, Bugatti, or handmade speedster, most likely wheeled by the likes of L.A. Cadillac dealer (and future broadcasting impresario) Don Lee's son Tommy, and various other imported exotics piloted by Hollywood greats, near-greats, and wanna-be greats. And usually, as the tale is told, the jalopies could kick some serious sports car butt in these stoplight grand prix encounters as well (quite unlike the contemporary world, when it's usually the other way around). So, if hot rods did indeed spring from immolating imports in the early days, it wasn't here (we're headquartered just northeast of Disneyland in the L.A. Basin, you know), but we're not excluding the theory altogether as it, like many other things in our hobby, could have been a regional thing, unknown to this writer and others at our Placentia offices. (Author's note: If your opinion or actual knowledge and/or experience on the subject varies, don't get all fired up--simply sit down and calmly compose a civil letter--we'd love to hear your point of view.) So now that we've explored what influences sports cars most likely did, and did not, have on the hot rod hobby/lifestyle in the beginning, let's get back to the Sports Rod/Sports Custom theme of our story and see just what influences they might actually have had a little later on.

The MG was. . .well, cute, but rather spindly, especially in TC guise, so it moved almost no one to tears at all, except for the tallyho, tea and crumpets, rally crowd, so there was no influence here. But when the more substantial MG TD arrived, several of the boys (Jack Stewart probably being the best known and publicized of the group) pulled the banger from his tea-bagger, and dropped in a full-house flattie. This combination created a terrific Sports Rod with imported chassis and coachwork, and good old American muscle, but was sort of a reverse of the influence we're after. A branch of the automotive enthusiast tree as it were, growing in yet another direction, that would soon be successfully explored (and exploited) by race driver and entrepreneur Carroll Shelby and his amazing AC Ace/Ford-powered combination, the Cobra.

I believe that it was the Jaguar XK-120 that actually knocked everyone on their ear, making them sit up and take notice, which became the heaviest influence on hot rodders (dare I say custom rodders?). Now here was a two-place roadster with a V-windshield, powerful (for its day) engine, and beautifully flowing, well-proportioned, full-fadeaway lines (are we finally going somewhere with this?). The Jag was at once exotic, but strangely familiar. It broke no new ground styling-wise, just put everything in perfect order. It was not only thought-provoking, but very similar in looks to fat-fendered American cars from the late '30s and up, at least after they'd been run through shops like the Barris Bros. In fact, George Barris even once owned a customized XK-120, as well as the creator of the flying eyeball, Von Dutch. The XK then combined the looks of a fully customized American car with an open, two-passenger cockpit--what wasn't there to like?

From printed evidence found in car magazines of the era, it seems many established car guys and amateurs alike just had to have such a vehicle--at least an inexpensive copy of one--an All-American sports car! With this in mind, everything from Buicks to Hudsons (mostly well-worn sedans, as they were the cheapest) were butchered for the cause. Note that sedans were popular for another reason as well--their severed tops could be dropped to the beltline and welded into place, creating flowing rear decks with little or no metalforming involved. Sometimes the backlight opening that now faced the rear bumper was even utilized as an access door for the spare tire--a simple, basic solution from something that just happened naturally, as in, "Say, I have an idea!" The only thing these builders missed with their handmade sports cars utilizing readily available sheetmetal shapes from the local boneyard was proportion! It either didn't occur to anyone to move the cowl back a few inches to immolate the Jag's near-perfect symmetry, or it was simply too great a task for most amateurs, with quality levels dropped to "about here looks okay" thinking prevailing.

As butchering old sedans into contrived shapes (hopefully to be perceived as expensive sports cars by passerby and showgoers upon completion) became more popular, magazines from the Mechanix Illustrated, general interest, garage tinkerer segment of the publishing market got into the act, offering plans on how to build these "contraptions" in one's basement or home garage. Many did just that, but one wonders just how many were started and never finished? Look around in the sometimes-muddy field of a large automotive swap meet and you just might run across one of these unfinished dreams (I know I have on occasion). Now there's a worthy project to consider, and generally at way less cost than the traditional coupe/roadster/sedan approach to a rod-building project. I truly believe that it was the Sports Custom or Rod that spawned the kit car industry (if one discounts aftermarket Model T speedster bodies available in the teens and '20s), which got a good start with several properly-proportioned, well-designed bodies such as the Devin and Wildfire, and continues today with the aforementioned Cobra available in 'glass as well. Ak Miller helped the cause of Sports Rods too with his Model T-based "Caballo de Hierro" (Iron Horse), which once placed fifth overall in the Mexican Road Race. Now that we've looked into the most likely scenario of who, what, and why, let's look at one specific, surviving example of a Sports Custom that was not only just possibly the best example of the breed, but a successful show car, trophy winner, and magazine feature car as well--the "Fadeaway Ford."

My first encounter with the car was in 1958 at an outdoor car show held in Lakewood, California, on the wide expanse of sidewalk fronting the May Company and surrounding businesses (which is now Robinsons May and the Lakewood Mall). What a treat for a 16-year-old kid. There was Grabowski's Kookie T, and cruisin' past to find a parking slot was the ol' Finkster (not really so old at the time, as he was only in his twenties) Ed Roth, in his red 'n' scalloped Model A Tudor (someone needs to clone this car). And over there was this low-slung, kandy purple Sports Custom, Bud Lehner's "Fadeaway Ford." The channeled, open car with cut-down doors must have put out a tempting invitation to two cute teen girls with its white and bronze-hued tuck 'n' roll interior, because they had seated themselves in the confines of the cozy cockpit. They must have climbed over the sides in a rather unladylike manner, because I'm sure they wouldn't have known the location of the door solenoid buttons (I always regretted missing the leg show), but they lost points in the dismount, as they were promptly evicted (via opened doors) by most likely Bud's dad, Art.I also viewed the Fadeaway Ford at the Renegades car show at the Long Beach Municipal Auditorium (long ago a victim of progress and the wrecking ball, but once where Larry Watson's T-Bird made its "official" debut, as well as where I graduated from high school in 1960). By that time, the roadster had acquired a lift-off top formed from a section of '49 Chevy Fleetline roof. Note that the top still existed as of this writing, but wasn't considered in the restoration. How this car came to be built, wrecked, saved, and eventually restored, however, is a story filled with irony and fortuitous circumstances as well.Art Lehner was a young family man who worked in a body shop at a Chrysler dealer (hence the Ford's cut-down '50 Chrysler grille bars), who started his project at home some half-century ago. First finished by mid decade in Art's own shop, Art Chrome Custom Body Works, in his hometown of Hollydale, California (a community south of Los Angeles), he began to show the car with his young son Bud, who he'd built the car for, feeling that he (Art) was "too old" to personally own such a car. It's amazing how times have changed--the aging of our hobby as it were, when a man not yet 40 years of age felt himself in a younger man's hobby.

According to all involved with the car today, it started out as a '39 Ford convertible, purchased by Art for $195. Now here's where the story gets a little bit odd: Custom Cars 1959 Annual by James E. Potter (Trend book No. 175) states that the car was built from a '39 Ford Tudor. A statement that holds some validity even though contested by both Bud Lehner and the car's restorer, Bob Trousil. The car's windshield posts have a slight curve to their profile (which a convertible doesn't), and also have vestigial driprails, another implication that at least the A-pillars were closed-car sourced. Also, a '39 closed car had the wiper towers above the windshield (which top removal would have eliminated), whereas a '39 convertible had them on the cowl. However, as you'll note there are none at all, most likely removed for the sake of smoothness, as was the cowl vent. These are only clues, and I'm not making any statement disputing those involved, only pointing out things as I see them. As for wipers, I doubt driving this minimalist Sports Custom in the rain was ever considered. But hey, what's life without a few unanswered questions, anyway? In the confines of the modified windshield that was obviously raked back a few degrees a curved windshield was also installed, which was really far thinking for the time, as it's only recently caught on for street rods in the last few years.

The body looks fairly thick, even though the '59 Annual states it was sectioned a full 10 inches. Sectioned I'll go along with, even if not 10 inches' worth, as there are no rockers on the car, denoting a "cheater section" with material being removed from the bottom of the body instead of midway at its widest point. The remaining upper body was then channeled the width of the frame, making for a rather shallow cockpit. Bob reports that there were never bottoms on the doors, only welded-on straps holding the inner and outer skins apart (Bob finished them correctly by fabricating sheetmetal bottoms). This is proof-positive that the doors at least were sectioned the easy way (no horizontal seam down the center) to metalwork. However, in this case it only saved welding the doors back together, as this area was covered with new fadeaway skin formed over an acetylene bottle by Art way back when. As with most channel jobs (see our Oct. '01 issue for more banter on the subject) the fenders were raised, reattached, and leaded to the body. The hood was then sectioned to match--no easy task, but one that was pulled off admirably--not "cheater" sectioning here. To finish the car off, a rack of '50 Chrysler grille bars with ends removed was placed in the cleaned-up '39 opening and '49 Plymouth ribbed bumpers installed front and rear. Bud remembers that they once put a scoop below the grille for better cooling for the 348 Chevy that once resided underhood, but it was apparently removed by some later owner. As the car was displayed at car shows, running changes were made to keep it competitive, one such being the '57 Chevy "gunsight" trim used in conjunction with '53 Chevy taillights, adding a clever and very Corvette-like solution to the rear marker problem.

So, what became of the Fadeaway Ford after it left Lehner's ownership? What we do know is that it was once in a pretty bad accident, being hit hard on the passenger side (so hard, in fact, that Bob had to replace a substantial chunk of the fadeaway with fresh sheetmetal, and pull the wracked body back into alignment during the restoration process). The car then ended up at Jim Brucker's Cars of the Stars museum in Buena Park, California, in less than pristine condition, languishing in outdoor storage for some time. It was apparently there, or soon afterwards, that Sam Bergman found the decrepit wreck and purchased it, not knowing of its history, but loving its style. Eventually having the car professionally restored was Sam's goal when he put it in basement storage, but somehow the years have a way of ticking quickly by. When he finally decided to jump into the project full bore, none of the shops Sam contacted wanted anything to do with the car. Then someone recommended Bob Trousil, who not only loves and restores old cars, but is also on the Judging Standards Committee of the Model A Ford Club of America. So, in December of 1996, Bob took delivery of the project, which would consume the next four and a half years of his life. And we might add that Bob also knew nothing of the car's history. The original plan was to paint the car black with a white interior, which would have looked nice, except for one thing. Not only were there remnants of the original interior material, but Bob found a hint of the kandy purple that young Bud had sprayed so many years ago. Bob may not have known the history of the car in his charge, but he knew it had to go back together as nearly as possible to its original finish--and so it did.

Bob and Sam felt the car was too low to drive with any degree of comfort, so the dropped axle was replaced with a stocker. The small-block Chevy that the Lehners had replaced the early big-block 348 Chevy with years before (it went into a Deuce three-window they built) was rebuilt, along with all the running gear, with a Gennie shifter going to the Powerglide. (Note that the car was originally motivated by a flathead Merc with multiple carbs and all the goodies until replaced by a then-new 348 Chevy back in '58.) Finally, a friend of Bob's told him that the car was in a book, Barris Kustoms of the 1950s. Both Bob and Sam were elated, for the car now had a name--the Fadeaway Ford! Unfortunately, Sam passed away before the restoration could be completed, but his sons, Lance and Jay Bergman, wanted to see their father's dream car finished, and so it was.

This is about where I came in, as I received a phone call from Paul Rick of Paul's All Pro Glass in Bellflower a few weeks back saying he had discovered the Fadeaway Ford. It seems that Bob was all finished with the restoration except for the windshield, which became an almost insurmountable stumbling block--no glass guy would touch it. They didn't know what the gently curved windshield was from. Letting his fingers do the walking through the Yellow Pages, Bob finally came across Paul's number and gave him a call. After listening to Bob's description of the car, Paul said, "No problem, it's a '53 Ford F-100 windshield--I cut one for that car years ago!"

Well, I called Bob, making an appointment to view the car, and there it was, almost as I remembered it from that outdoor car show almost a lifetime ago--the Fadeaway Ford. A few days later I ventured once more into the wilds of Downey to shoot a feature on the car in Bob's backyard, just as the Brother's Bergman had scheduled to have it flatbedded home. In the meantime, however, I had asked Bill Hines about Art Lehner. Bill informed me that unfortunately Art had passed away, but that his son Bud (the car's original owner) was a good friend of Junior--yes, that Junior at Junior's House of Color in Bell Gardens. I not only got in touch with Bud, who still owns his father's original shop building, but also was able to take a photo of the exterior of the old Art Chrome Custom Body Works location as well. It turns out the shop was only six miles from my driveway in Long Beach. This shop must have indeed been one of rodding's best kept secrets--at least to me it was.

Bud had told me he'd recently given away most of the trophies won by the car, as he planned on moving soon and had no place for them. So, how's this for a coincidence? On Sunday before our planned photo shoot that Wednesday, I went to the Long Beach swap meet. I not only ran into Paul Rick, but he introduced me to Sheridan Attema, the young man to whom Bud had given his trophies. Sheridan, whose hobby, it turns out, is the history of rods and customs (through his uncle's involvement with a Watson-paneled '58 Pontiac Bonneville when new--a story for another time and another magazine), graciously volunteered to take a day off work and bring his historic trophy find to Bob's house. Are we done yet? This has been quite an experience!