Gas Stations in the 1950s

I'm an old fart. About 54 or so I worked in a Richfield station. No uniform but I did clean their windshield, check the oil, ask if they wanted me to check the tires, and try to sell them an oil change or lube job. ( I got a commission on those jobs) I was 16
 
I never remember more than one man out to pump the gas, check fluids and pressures and clean windshields.
I remember a lot of Sinclair oil, Texaco, Mobil stations and some independent ones. Stinker, Husky and Utoco?.
 
Rusty, Marathon is my non google guess, but could be Sinclair if that's a dinosaur on the glass.

I've made fruit stands out of 2 retired gas stations from the late 40s. One I rented for 18 years and the other I still own and have since 1981. I never sold any gas but I got the pleasure of paying to have the tanks removed and the surrounding dirt disposed of. Took $18,000 1989 dollars to do that and there were no tank leaks. Today remediation can run ONE MILLION DOLLARS ( my Dr. Evil keyboard impression :eek:)
 
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I still have a few of these key chains.
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It was interesting then, having people who really cared about helping you maintain your car. I used to have fun, because I sometimes drove my dad's '66 VW type III when he was on vacation.

I'd pull up to the pumps over the "ding" cord and when a guy came out, I'd tell him my engine was missing. He'd invariably ask me to pop the hood - and I'd pull the trunk release (the trunk was in front). They'd look there, and I said again that my engine was missing. They then wanted to look in the back, laughing at the joke. I opened the back lid, they'd look in - and guess what? No visible engine! Unlike the VW "bugs," the type III had a" pancake" engine located under the floor mat in the back compartment. The car was new enough that not many had encountered one. They'd say "Where's the engine?" and I'd tell 'em again that it was missing....

Had fun with that, but I'd then pull up the back floorboard - "Oh, there it is!" and they'd learn where it was in that strange car. :)

John
 
doublesharp said:
Rusty, Marathon is my non google guess, but could be Sinclair if that's a dinosaur on the glass.

I've made fruit stands out of 2 retired gas stations from the late 40s. One I rented for 18 years and the other I still own and have since 1981. I never sold any gas but I got the pleasure of paying to have the tanks removed and the surrounding dirt disposed of. Took $18,000 1989 dollars to do that and there were no tank leaks. Today remediation can run ONE MILLION DOLLARS ( my Dr. Evil keyboard impression :eek:)
Click to expand...

Some states provide insurance for pulling leaking USTs. No one knows how many abandoned old tanks are still in place. I remember a situation near Corpus Christi where there was a major highway widening project over 20 years ago. The estimate was that they would find something like 15 or so abandoned USTs in the work area, turns out it was more like 10 times that.
 
Well, I was around in the 50s (and the latter 40s) and my Dad bought a Mobil Station in the late 50s and, guess where I spent my spare time?

Pump the gas, check the oil, the water and the fan belts ( did I ever tell you about the time I was checking one when the guy behind the wheel started the engine?), clean the front and rear windows, AND, from time to time when my Dad felt like it, armed with a whisk broom and dust pan, clean the floorboards (way before shop-vac types of cleaners, at least as far as I know).

I loved the era, hated the work and determined never to do it again.

So, fresh out of the Army in November '68, still too young to join the Police Department for another month, what'd I do? Yep, took an evening job at a local gas station. But only for a month.

Bob
 
I too worked part time in a service station in high school and college. Full time in the summer. Jeans and a company shirt tucked in and no low cut stuff.

Right off old route 66. Close to a large Army base. You ran out did all the service while the gas was pumping, took the money in and brought change back.

My bst friends brother was a year older than us. He had graduated and bought a brand new 1963 Chev SS, 327 300 hp. He wasalso in deep love at that time. He was servicing a car and i wasnt. Went over to help. The car was a qt low on oil, he showed the guy and was told to put a qt in. By the time he got back from the station he was already lost in love thoughts. I had finished all else, Billy went to the front of the car opened the radiator cap and dumped it in. Im quietly saying Bill quit. He woke from the girlfriend dream and said an unprintable. He buttoned all down took the money in and brought back the guys change. I always wondered what happened when someone told him he had oil in his radiator. Rebuilt motor?
The young guys whose families had pull sacked groceries in nice shirts and Levis starched and ironed. Bills best friend worked at the bigger grocery store, he too bought a new 63 SS 327 300hp. Both were drafted, had to sell their cars and got to wear Army green. Neither one had a grocery store service station MOS.
 
I've several times heard that a petty swindle back in those days by the attendants was to short-stroke the dipstick after wiping, and show it to the driver - "Sir, you are down a quart, better let me add some."
 
crazyphil said:
After WWII my Dad had a big old Buick Roadmaster with a straight eight
engine. I remember him saying it would pass anything on the road except a gas station.
Click to expand...


My 1st car was a 36 Buick with a straight 8 and it had a rumble seat too. Tall gear shift on the floor, mohair seats. Whoever had it before me had painted it with a brush:eek:. Built like a tank too.
Sold it and later found out the kid who bought it was the son of a Buick dealer in a nearby City.
 
Back in those days we always showed the customer the dipstick if the engine was low on oil and most of the time the customer exited the car and stood there, watching, while we dipped it again to make sure it was really low on oil.

I never knew anyone, or heard of any of the gas stations in my little town, that cheated on such things.

But it was a small place and such antics would have gotten around and hurt the station that pulled something like that.

I forgot to mention that this was NE Missouri and it got cold in the winter. The old farmers (it was a farming area) would have a flat tire on their wagon during the nice months, put on another wheel and tire, and leave the flat leaning against the hen house (or some place similar) till it was 20 below, then bring it in to be fixed.

All the while that tire was laying there, the chickens would poop on it and the old poop froze when it got cold. When the tire came in for repair, I got the job. I could not break the tire down till it thawed and the poop thawed with it.

Oh, what a nasty, stinking mess! As soon as the tire was even a bit thawed, I'd take it outside, and hose/brush it off to get rid of the poop so I could stand to fix it.

I know it was wrong, but I hated those farmers.
 
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