How about service stations in the early 40's

ancient-one

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Like in the 50's they, for the most part were genuine service stations. When I was fourteen I started working after school and weekends and then full time during the summer at a new Johnson Oil Co. station in Perry OK. I was paid 30-50 cents for the after school work and a dollar for a full day that could last as long as 14 hours. Not complaining, it kept me out of trouble. taught me how to deal with people and gave me a little spending money.

We checked the oil, radiator, battery water, tire pressure, washed all windows and unless the driver did not want it, swept the floor boards. We did not have a lift but had a pit with rails that you would drive a car onto. You went down some steps to get under the car to change oil or lube it.
Gasoline was 11-12 cents per gallon. The regular was called Brilliant Bronze and I don't remember what the higher grade was called. When I started there we had the old glass tank pump up style but soon got electric pumps. People didn't trust them because they were used to actually see the gas that they were getting.

There was a Toms candy display in the corner of the little office and a Coke box that was refilled with pop and covered with chipped ice every morning.
Nehi chocolate pop actually almost tasted like chocolate milk. Between the candy and pop I usually spent ten cents of my pay. On the long days more like twenty cents. I guess that I was fifteen when the owner took a three or four day trip and left me by myself. I had no way to bank any of the money and before he got back I had a batch. My instructions were to each night go in the compressor and oil room, close the door and stuff the folding money under the bracket that held the compressor motor on. I sacked the extra coins up and shoved them in the desk drawer.

Many of you have probably never heard of re-run or re-refined oil. We had it in a tank that had three hand pumps on it. I think that they were supposed to be 20-30-40 weight oil. The thing was that there were not separate compartments in the tank. No matter what weight you asked for you got the same thing.

Shortly after I graduated we moved back to the little town of Coyle where I was born. I got a job in a service station, same pay, same long hours, same stuff except that I also delivered gasoline and kerosene to farmers. That was really hard work. You bucketed it out in a five gallon can, climbed the ladder and poured it into the farmers tank. By the time you did two or three hundred gallons you were tired. The bad part was that you might make more than one delivery a day.

I was saved from anymore service station work when they started hiring people to train to staff Tinker. I passed the tests and hired on to go to school as a mechanic learner at a little less than $1100 dollars a year. That beat service station work any way that you looked at it. I really didn't intend to ramble on so long. Sorry!
 
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I was only six when WWII started, and ten when it ended. The thing I
remember about gas stations is that gas was rationed. Every one had
stamps. They could buy gas according to their stamp allocation, but I
never understood the formula. Did you have to deal with the stamps
Graydon?
 
My mother told me the basic gas ration-for which you received the "A" sticker you had to put on your windshield -was 3 gallons, when you purchased gas you had to hand over your coupons.
There's a scene in the 1943 Republic serial "The Masked Marvel" where the hero is able to track down the villain's lead henchman because he stopped to buy gas-and the attendant wrote his license plate number on the back of the coupons.
 
My Dad grew up in my grandfather's general store in a small town in the 40's. They had two gas pumps out front, and it was Dad's job to deal with any cars that pulled in. They didn't do anything except sell gas and oil, they didn't offer full service such as you describe since they were the only show in town. If you wanted all that fancy stuff you drove to a larger town and paid more for your gas.
 
I remember that Nehi chocolate drink from the early '50s. The only place I could find it was at the Phoenix desert botanical gardens headquarters. The curator there was a friend of my dad, who loved to go out there and photograph cactus flowers. The vending machine there had that drink, and I used to go along with dad partly because I loved that Nehi chocolate!

In later years, the curator's son, who was my age, married one of my wife's good friends - and we often reminisce about those days of yore.

I remember those old service stations. There was a Shell station a few blocks from our house in the mid-'50s, run by an old seasoned mechanic by the name of Grigsby. He had an actual lift rather than a pit, and let me use it for free to adjust the brake shoe clearances on my '50 Chevy. I appreciated that favor, as it saved me some money so I could afford to date the girl who turned out to be my future wife...

John
 
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It was a few decades later than the 40's, but I was also a gas jockey after High School. This was 1976, when self serve was really catching on, but I worked at a Supertest, where we pumped the gas, washed the windshield, checked the oil and tires if requested.

Sometimes on weekends, and right at shift change, there were two of us, but mostly we were own our own after learning the ropes. I had to count every pack of cigarettes, candy bar, can of oil and read the pumps at the start & finish or each shift, and still run out to wait on customers. Oh, and we had to mow the small strips of grass on the lot out by the roads. (it was on a corner lot)

My boss got married while I was working there, and he showed me how to open the floor safe, what to do if I get robbed, and he let me stay at his apartment for that week. I also had to open at 6 each morning and close up at 10 each night, all by myself.

I learned a lot in that long week, and my till added up when he returned to check up on me. The manager was an older fellow (to a teenager) of maybe 27 or 28, and his Father owned the station, but lived in another state. He showed up every month or so and always filled up my car for free.

I wouldn't give up those days for anything, right out of High School I was used to hard work, but it was mostly farm related. I still look back fondly on those days, and the nights I had all to myself and girl that was sweet on me and the boss's diggs. It's a wonder I didn't fall asleep at the pumps. But that job, and the responsibility it demanded, taught me a good deal about what life was like out in the real world.
 
Here are a couple pics from my Great, Great Uncles service station. He was a WW I vet and this was outside of town on the main route between two small villages at the time. Small fortune in today’s standards in the pumps and porcelain signs.

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Not related...but anyone want to throw a guess out at what model car this is below?? It was not written on the back of the picture.
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Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
 
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My mother told me the basic gas ration-for which you received the "A" sticker you had to put on your windshield -was 3 gallons, when you purchased gas you had to hand over your coupons.
There's a scene in the 1943 Republic serial "The Masked Marvel" where the hero is able to track down the villain's lead henchman because he stopped to buy gas-and the attendant wrote his license plate number on the back of the coupons.

I don't know the exact system, but some drivers could get extra gas rations. I know my dad did because he drove several riders to work with him every day, sort of a car pool (he worked in a steel mill). Doctors got extra gas rations, as back at that time doctors made house calls. Some businesses and workers also got extra gas rations, especially those whose jobs involved a lot of driving.

During WWII, there wasn't a fuel shortage in the USA, and gas rationing really wasn't necessary for that reason. The real reason for gas rationing was the shortage of rubber for tires. Limiting driving driving meant more rubber available. I think there was also a national low speed limit imposed to reduce gas usage and tire wear.
 
People in certain "critical" occupations-doctors, e.g.-received a higher ration and the sticker that authorized it
, farmers, the same thing. IIRC there was a national speed limit of 35MPH and people saw frequent exhortations-"Is this trip really necessary ?".
My mother said she and her mother lived about 3 miles outside of town, they felt the pinch, she said they got coupons from friends in town, that helped.
And of course, there was always-the "black market"!
I read it was patriotic to donate your tires to the war effort, and once the Japanese overran the Dutch East Indies it took a while for industry to develop rubber substitutes and synthetics.
 
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Tires! The old wreck 37 Ford I finally bought turned ought to have boots in the tires and I soon needed tires, especially in the front. None available. My brother found me two new ribbed tractor tires that fit, we mounted them on the front and I ran them about 30,000 miles.
I don't remember how long it was before tires were readily available.
 
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