Collector Car/Cars We Remember; In memory of my ‘rich’ grandfather

By Greg Zyla —

My mom and grandfather always told me I was drawn to cars and trucks even before I could talk, and both were not surprised that my love of cars, combined with the blessings from above, led me to a fun career in automotives. Unfortunately, both are gone now, and I remember driving to my grandfather’s funeral in my 1967 Plymouth GTX from visiting my brother at Arcade Gardens in Old Bridge, N.J.

By the time I was four I had an impressive collection of F.W. Woolworth plastic and metal cars, as my mom worked at Woolworth’s in downtown Shamokin. Yet it was my grandfather’s economy store where I really got to see all the cars, as the customers knew I loved cars. Thus, it was a daily experience for me to see close-up and sit in many of the cars that came for groceries. I would always tag along with the groceries, as I grew older, carrying bags so I could see the interiors and trunk layouts and how they were all different.

And for this reason I’m dedicating this week’s column to my grandfather, the late Martin Sulewski. Here are some memories that include sitting on my porch watching all the cars and memories of “working” at my grandfather’s economy grocery store on Main Street in Ranshaw.

I especially loved when Monsignor Bartol, from nearby Saint Anthony’s Catholic Church, would stop by the store in his new 1956 Mercury Montclair. It was two-tone orange and white and was one of the nicest in the small coal-mining patch where we lived (Ranshaw, Pa.). Monsignor would let me sit behind the wheel and show me where the hidden gas tank inlet was behind the license plate.

“Hoople” Markowski, a noted area baseball umpire, had everyone’s attention when he bought a new triple color ’55 Dodge. At that time two-tone models were the norm, but that ’55 Dodge was the first I ever saw with three distinct colors of blue, black, and white. What a beauty.

It was standing on our porch in Ranshaw, right next to my grandfather’s home and store, where just about every car and truck caught my eye. The bullet nosed Studebakers, bathtub Packards, “Superman” Nash, Kaiser Manhattans, Henry Js, Plymouth Belvederes, Ford Sunliners, Lincolns, Caddys, and Chevy BelAirs all paraded daily. It was a big part of how I enjoyed the day back then, just waiting for all the cars to come and go. 

Other favorites included heavy-duty trucks, where I could see the driveshaft and rear u-joint assembly turn when the truck pulled away. During the summer the watermelon trucks caught my attention, especially when I saw my mom buying one. The buying process included an okay from mom after tasting a little triangle cut sample the vendor gave her for sweetness approval.     

By 1956, 1957, and early 1958 I was aware of high-performance cars, especially the Fords with the big V8, fuel injected Chevys, Chrysler 300s with the 383 Cross Rams, Pontiac Catalinas, and the Olds Rockets. The main teenager car of the day was a ’49 to ’51 Ford with a chopped top, lake pipes, and moon discs. As a matter of fact, if any car had lake pipes and moon discs they were tops in my book.

I’ve told some of the above stories through the years that all centered with me being my grandfather’s little helper at his grocery and general merchandise store in Ranshaw. This now gives me the opportunity to tell you the story of my “Rich” grandfather, who I called my “Dzagee”, pronounced “JaGee”, which was as close to the Polish pronunciation that I could get as a five-year-old.

Ranshaw, back in the early to mid-1950s, was mostly a coal mining patch small town as I remember watching all the coal soot covered miners getting out of cars at around 5 p.m. and heading into their homes to shower. I knew then I didn’t want anything to do with working at the nearby collieries, which included the Henry Clay that was within walking distance of where we lived at 247 Main St. My grandfather’s store was 251 Main St., with a shared garage located between our houses.

In this garage my grandfather kept his pride and joy, a 1948 Buick four-door straight eight, which became a playhouse for several years until we left Ranshaw in 1958 for Vineland, N.J.

I didn’t realize until my grandfather’s passing that he nearly lost his store in the depression years because he basically fed the many people in Ranshaw by continuing to give credit to his loyal customers, knowing these individuals could in no way pay for the food they had charged and written on the little credit slips I found that overflowed from the bottom drawers of his cash register. Following the 1929 crash it was the 1930s that found our country in a real depression.

Had things not turned around in 1938 my grandfather would have not only lost his store, he would have also lost his nice house. Still, he was known around Ranshaw as the rich store owner.

I also remember him giving free shoes to some of my neighbors that didn’t have any to wear in about 1953 or so, as his store also offered general merchandise. I “worked” in that store every day, be it stocking shelves to help sweep and clean the floors every Wednesday afternoon. 

After the cleaning, my “Jagee” would sit in his rocking chair with me on his lap by the tobacco case (that smelled so good) and just up from the candy case where Mary Janes, Teaberry Gum, Hershey Squares, and all the penny candies awaited my serving my friends that came in with the few pennies they had to spend. (The Hershey Squares were the most popular.)

Eddie Marcowski was always in the store for the Tastykake Peanut Butter Cups, and many customers young and old came in for our fresh potato chips that always sat in a big covered can awaiting either a Nickel- or Ten-cent bag request.

My Jagee passed away at age 77 in his store in late 1967, after coming to this country in 1905. Yet my grandfather stayed open until his last day on earth. Unfortunately my grandmother (Bushi) ended up in a home the last five years of her life due to “hardening of the arteries,” the name back then most likely for dementia or Alzheimer’s. She died early in 1968.

The hundreds of families that owed him money never recovered enough to pay for my “JaGees” pure caring and generosity, as we suspected that maybe 20% did work some type of payoff while the others, knowing they owned the money, no longer came to his store.

So, this column is in honor of my “rich” grandfather, who in the end was a real life “It’s a wonderful life” human being. I loved my “JaGee” very much, and because of him allowing me to sit in many of his customer’s cars while loading bags into the back seat, I became who I am today. When he passed, instead of a big Buick sitting in his garage, it was a 1960 Ford Falcon, the company’s new compact car. I remember it was blue.

Thanks “JaGee” for being the wonderful, generous, person you were. I miss sitting on your lap in that rocking chair more than you ever know, regardless of whatever car you had parked in your garage.  

(Greg Zyla is a syndicated auto and nostalgia columnist who welcomes input from readers at extramile_2000@yahoo.com or at greg@gregzyla.com.)