Tin Lizzie: The Story of Fabulous Model T Ford

By Philip Van Doren Stern

“In the 1920’s millions of Model T’s were on the road. More than 15,000,000 were made.”



The fantastic story of the trendsetting Ford Model T is described in this book with numerous illustrations throughout. Exceptionally detailed and well researched this book is a must for any car or automobile enthusiast.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barakaldo Books
• Release date: May 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781839746932

Philip Van Doren Stern

Philip Van Doren Stern (1900–1984) was an American author, editor, and Civil War historian whose story, “The Greatest Gift,” became the basis of the classic Christmas film, It’s a Wonderful Life.

Book preview

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© Barakaldo Books 2020, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electrical, mechanical or otherwise without the written permission of the copyright holder.

Publisher’s Note

Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.

We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.

TIN LIZZIE

THE STORY OF THE FABULOUS MODEL T FORD

BY

PHILIP VAN DOREN STERN

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TIN LIZZIE

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Contents

TABLE OF CONTENTS 9

1 I Remember the Model T 10

2 The World into Which the Model T Was Born 18

3 Henry Ford Before the Model T 30

4 Predecessors of the Model T 39

5 The Birth of the Model T 53

6 The Transcontinental Race 70

7 The Rise of the Model T 84

8 How the Model T Was Built 98

9 The Model T Got Around 108

10 Famous People and the Model T 119

11 The Death of the Model T 126

12 The Model A 133

13 The Model T Today 133

14 Testimony of the Witnesses 133

HOW WE DESIGNED THE FIRST MODEL T 133

From an interview with Joseph Galamb 133

HENRY FORD WAS A STUBBORN MAN 133

From an interview with Joseph Galamb 133

CHANGING A TIRE IN THE OLD DAYS 133

From an interview with George Brown 133

HENRY FORD SMASHES UP A POTENTIAL RIVAL TO THE MODEL T 133

From an interview with George Brown 133

ON THE ORIGIN OF THE ASSEMBLY LINE 133

An interview with Eugene Farkas 133

HOW WE DEVELOPED THE FIRST ASSEMBLY LINE 133

An interview with William C. Klann 133

BRIDGING THE GAP BETWEEN THE MODEL T AND THE MODEL A 133

An interview with Harold Hicks 133

15 Gimmicks and Gadgets 133

16 Model T Folklore, Jokes, Anecdotes, and Music 133

17 Reference Data 133

SPECIFICATIONS FOR THE MODEL T FORD 133

ROAD SPEED AND EQUIVALENT ENGINE SPEED IN RPM: 133

SHIPPING WEIGHTS 133

MAJOR CHANGES IN THE MODEL T THROUGHOUT ITS HISTORY 133

PRICES FOR THE MODEL T TOURING CAR FROM 1908 TO 1927 133

ENGINE NUMBERS OF ALL MODEL T FORD CARS FROM 1908 TO 1927 133

HOW TO MEASURE FUEL IN A ROUND MODEL T GAS TANK 133

HOW TO RUN THE MODEL T FORD 133

WATER 133

VIGILANCE AND—OIL 133

GO IT EASY 133

GASOLINE 133

OIL 133

CONTROL 133

SLOW SPEED 133

THE TWO PEDAL TYPE OF CONTROL 133

VALVES 133

HOW TO RESTORE A MODEL T FORD 133

RESTORING THE BODY 133

REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER 133

1 I Remember the Model T

To estimate the number of [passenger] pigeons in one of those mighty flocks...let us take a column one mile in breadth, (which is far below the average size) and suppose it is passing over us without interruption for three hours at the rate of one mile a minute. This will give a parallelogram of 180 square miles. Allowing two pigeons to the square yard, we have 1,150,136 pigeons in one flock.

—JOHN JAMES AUDUBON

Ornithological Biography, 1831-1839

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THE PASSENGER PIGEON, which had been so extraordinarily abundant in America, became extinct in 1914, when the last one died in captivity at the Cincinnati Zoological Gardens. Like the passenger pigeon, the Model T Ford once swarmed over the land. At the height of its popularity in the 1920’s, many millions of Model T’s were running on the roads of America. Then they were literally ubiquitous, for they had penetrated not only to every corner of this country, but to the most remote nations of the earth. From Alaska to Zanzibar, the famous Tin Lizzie went everywhere. It spread the idea of the automobile—of individual motorized transportation—across the world.

More than 15,000,000 Model T’s were made. The first were produced in the autumn of 1908, and the last one rolled off the assembly line in May, 1927, to be replaced by the Model A. They lingered on the roads for a long while and were a common sight during the next 15 years, but the Second World War took heavy toll of them. Since then they have become less and less frequently seen, and must inevitably share the fate of the passenger pigeon.

In 1948, when R. L. Polk and Company made a survey of registered Model T passenger cars in the 48 states, they found only 49,869 Model T’s left. There were others unaccounted for because they were stored away or kept without licenses on farms. Since 1948 their number has dwindled sadly. They are scarce enough to fetch a premium price when in good running condition, but a few are still being broken up by junk yards every year. And fire, collision, rust, and general neglect are also reducing the fast-thinning ranks.

Most of us who are over 40 had our first experience in automobiling when we drove a Model T Ford. Its controls may seem complicated to the young person who has been brought up with modern driving aids like automatic transmission, power steering, and power brakes, but compared to most cars of its day, the Model T was sublimely and absurdly simple. It had two speeds forward, and a reverse which, when everything else failed, could be pressed into service as an extra brake. There were two sets of regular brakes—one operated by a pedal and the other by a hand lever. This lever was an ingenious device. Pushed all the way forward, it put the car into high; then, as it was pulled back to an approximately vertical position, it automatically released the clutch; pulled still farther back, it served as a hand brake which could be locked into position to keep the car from rolling—or from creeping ahead on its sometimes too-eager transmission bands.

This probably sounds more complicated than it actually was. Young people who gaze with open-mouthed wonder at the Model T’s three pedals can rest assured that three feet were never required to drive it. Not even a Model T could go in two directions at once, so the reverse pedal (the center one) was ordinarily not used until the car had been declutched and brought to a stop.

Since the Model T was just about as simple as an automobile can be, most owners could make emergency repairs; and a screwdriver, a pair of pliers, a few assorted wrenches, and a bit of wire were about all one needed to get the car going again. Some owners went in for more elaborate equipment and even ground their own valves, which, according to factory instructions, were supposed to be reseated every three months.

The Model T was a homely car, smaller and lighter than any automobile now made in America. It was purposely designed with a high clearance so it could make its way through the dreadful morasses, rocky gullies, and rutted cow tracks that passed for roads in the first part of this century. And the Model T was provided with such amazingly loose-jointed wheels that all four of them could be bent at violently different angles and still function.

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It had planetary transmission and a low-tension magneto built into the flywheel; and the very earliest examples had two hand levers (one for reverse), but these were soon replaced by the more familiar three-pedal, one-hand-lever type. When the top of the touring car was up, only a tall man could reach it, for it was seven feet above the ground. Gasoline was fed by the natural force of gravity from a 10-gallon tank located under the front seat, and a marked stick was used to measure the amount of fuel on hand. Only the first few cars were equipped with a water pump, which was quickly eliminated to bring down costs, and a thermosiphon system was substituted in its stead. Thermosiphon may sound very impressive, but actually it refers to just another natural force that was being put to practical use. It simply means that hot water rises while cool water sinks—and that is how the Model T circulating system worked. As water was heated by the engine, it rose to the top of the radiator and was replaced by cooler water coming up from below. Sometimes, especially on hot days or on steep hills, this elementary cooling method didn’t work fast enough, and the water became so hot that the radiator boiled over. The patient Model T driver, who was used to such minor emergencies, then pulled his car to the side of the road and waited for its angrily sputtering engine to cool off.

People who had been brought up with horses were easily able to make the transition to the modern automobile on this simply constructed car. Lee Strout White, in his famous tribute Farewell to Model T, alluded several times to owners’ thinking of their cars as creatures similar to the horse. Speaking of the Model T’s planetary transmission, he said:

Engineers accepted the word planetary in its epicyclic sense, but I was always conscious that it also meant wandering, erratic. Because of the peculiar nature of this planetary element, there was always, in Model T, a certain dull rapport between engine and wheels, and even when the car was in a state known as neutral, it trembled with a deep imperative and tended to inch forward. There was never a moment when the bands were not faintly egging the machine on. In this respect it was like a horse, rolling the bit on its tongue, and country people brought to it the same technique they used with draft animals...Often, if the emergency brake hadn’t been pulled all the way back, the car advanced on you the instant the first explosion occurred and you would hold it back by leaning your weight against it. I can still feel my old Ford nuzzling me at the curb, as though looking for an apple in my pocket.

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Perhaps this is animistic thinking—something to which the human race is notoriously addicted—but it may have been the Model T’s quality of seeming to be alive that endeared it to so many of its owners. Certainly most of us remember it fondly today, even though we may often have cursed at it, called it unprintable names, or kicked petulantly at one of its unoffending tires when its cold and unresponsive engine refused to reply to our vigorous cranking. Now we think kindly of the Model T, for associated with it is a whole area of recollection that covered what were surely the best years of our lives.

Its hard-sprung, stiff-backed, black leatherette seats were graced by the girls who shared our expeditions and adventures. In summer, when the top was strapped down, the sun beat on their heads, and the dust of the nearly always dusty roads settled on their hair and begrimed their pretty faces. In winter, even when the top and curtains had been protectively put up, the wind blew coldly around the poor girls, and the rain crept inside to wet their long skirts and drip down soggily on their high shoes. But despite their unflattering costumes, these girls lent beauty to a vehicle that badly needed such a loan.

The Model T was admittedly ugly, although an argument might be made for it on aesthetic grounds as the essence of pure functionalism. But to the modern eye it looks much too high and square, and its silhouette seems as clumsy as a bony old cow’s.