History Remember when Service Stations gave Service?

REMEMBER WHEN SERVICE STATIONS GAVE SERVICE? By Frank Kaiser

What a quaint concept!

In this day of $3-a-gallon gas imagine getting actual service, too. Today, it's as bizarre a notion to anyone under 40 as a gentleman's tipping his hat to a lady.

About 40 years ago, both were part of everyday life in America.

Then in 1973, OPEC and Big Oil turned a screw creating long lines and high prices at gas pumps, prepayments to grim strangers behind bulletproof glass, and, most shocking of all, forcing ladies dressed in their finery to pump their own gas, wash their own windshields, check their oil and fill their tires with air, "free air" now costing two bits.

It was the end of a great era.

Older Suddenly Seniors will remember its beginning in the '20s when gas stations popped up all over postwar and newly prosperous America. Some stations even had indoor toilets.

In those days, filling a typical car's five-gallon tank took eight minutes. To keep customers' minds from the clock, attendants cleaned windshields (sometimes inside and out), checked oil and water, even cranked engines to get the old jalopies back on the road again.

The Depression saw stations built to resemble teepees, castles, dinosaurs, even pyramids — anything to attract scarce dollars. One of Gulf Oil's outlets was built in the shape of the Spirit of St. Louis, Charles Lindbergh's famous airplane.

Slowed by gas rationing during W.W.II (remember the A, B and C decals?), service stations mushroomed in the prosperous 1950s, marked by a huge expansion of motorcars and highways. Service stations sprouted from every corner, competing by giving away drinking glasses, trading stamps, maps, and car washes. And a tsunami of service.

"Regular or Ethyl?"

So fierce was competition that gas wars broke out, at least once pushing the price down to 12 cents a gallon in my suburban Chicago neighborhood.

Even car dealers put pumps out front to get some of the action.

My job was changing oil, lubing, and undercoating. And pumping gas.

When the tire bell rang, I'd quickly throw on an ill-fitting jacket and cap, run out, pump the gas — usually a buck's worth, but occasionally, "Five dollars or fill, whichever comes first." I'd wash windows all around, check the oil, fill tires and the battery as needed, and, in my spare time, chat or flirt, whichever was appropriate.

Really hectic was when a gas customer drove in as I was undercoating — spraying tar all over the bottom of a vehicle and me, protecting us both from road stones and rust.

Mr. Ladendorf, afraid my tarred, blackened aura might frighten customers, insisted that I always wash my face and hands with gasoline before greeting the customer.

Small wonder I had trouble getting dates that summer.

My car at the time was a '41 Ford convertible with a '48 Mercury engine. Bright red. All-chrome interior. Chopped and channeled. Leaded. Duals. Headers. Necker knob. And no top.

On those rare occasions when I scrubbed up clean enough to get a date, I'd borrow my dad's Oldsmobile Rocket 88 (0 to 60 in eight seconds!), promising to fill the tank and adhere to mileage restrictions.

Dad insisted, "Don't drive over 10 miles, now." Whether he thought I'd have less chance of an accident or what, I never knew. I do remember having a devil of a time reinstalling the speedometer cable, and once getting caught, feet in the air, fumbling under the dash with loose cable in hand.

From then on, my last stop on date nights was at a service station where, without so much as a frown, they reinstalled the speedometer cable, free, with my fill-up.

Try getting service like that in 2009!

 

I worked at a Shell Station in 1967 when I was in high school.
$1.40 an hour
Super Shell was 29.9 cents. regular was 26.9 cents
every Sunday the little old folks would come in for the dollars worth of gas, and , yes, I cleaned the glass, checked the oil, sometimes the battery and air pressure...
And if they filled it up, I'd have to run in and bring 'em back either the free steak knife or glass tumbler...

AND the Blue Chip Stamps!!!!

 

I remember most everything thing you mentioned. Also a lot of service stations had give a ways for just about any purchase. Somewhere I've got a picture of my younger brother and myself in Sinclair Dino t-shirts that my mom used to get at the station in town. We had several of them.

 

Well, I'm a youg 'un and wasn't even born until early 1969 and my generation has always called them "gas stations". I've always enjoyed though, hearing my father and other elders refer to them as "the fillin' station". I'll go ahead and something else to this thread......remember when gas back then actually smelled good? Well, those days are gone now. I don't know what they put in it or leave out totally these days, but it smells horrible currently.

 

Put a tiger in your tank and get S&H green stamps. Dad used to go to the local Gulf station with his 49 F1 (late 60's) and get the free plastic horse shoes to stick on the back of your car, for that "extra kick". There was a large clock mounted in the stations front window that only had a second hand, and when the bell rang they promised to attend to you in a certain number of seconds. Men actually made a career of pumping gas and checking oil, and were neatly dressed and polite. I now pay at the pump because I don't want to deal with the rude punk whose talking on his cell phone and sees my business as an interuption.

 

Worked at a friend's Texaco after law school waiting to start my first real lawyer job. Usual stuff, pumping gas, cleaning windshields, checking oil, cleaning the restrooms, busting tires and policing the bays with Speedi-Dry. One Sunday a customer comes in and asks me if I can fix a flat for him. Fix it, mount the wheel and tighten the lugs with an air wrench, then re-check the lugs by hand. Guy spots me a $10 tip, tells me he owns a Ford dealership and tells me I can have a job anytime I want because I knew enough to check the lugs by hand. 32 years later I've had a great career as a lawyer, but am still tremendously proud of that Sunday.

 

My father owned two full service stations when i was a kid.One was a Shell and the other was a Gulf.My mother worked across the street at a diner that was a combination drug store and float shop.That is were pop met my mother.I worked at the Shell station during summer time and sometimes after school sweeping for five bucks a week.I thought i was the king cheese,i was able to go to the record store on Saturday afternoon buy myself two 45 rpm records and still make the matinee for a movie...........When times were much more simpler than the push and shove of today

 

My dads service station 1959

 

In 2002, a group of us drove our Hot Rods from Central Calif to Oregon for a Rod Run. Along the way, we visited the Redwoods in Nor Cal. One of the guys clipped his SBC oil filter on the dirt road. We must have gone to a dozen gas stations looking for a spin on SBC oil filter (as common as they get). No one had one, but they had candy, slurpees, beer, crappy hot dogs, etc. etc. Car parts? you must be kidding!!

 

that's the best..........i worked at a service station in el toro (remember that name) in the 90's and my uniforms were the 40's style green (as close as i could get now), even down to the old hat. i got my hat and patches (name and "T" for texaco) from ebay. the only people that even knew were the "older" generation, i only had enough for 2 days and the texaco reps didn't like it. i worked there for 10 years, that's kinda how i got my screen name.....even though i'm 39.

my grand father did have a chevron station in downey i think from '70-'72. i can't find any pics of it, but i do have his first $1 earned and the coke machine .

 

i worked at a station not far from a drive-in, so on weekends people wanted there windshield cleaned really well before going to the movie, i had a system figured out to get them nice and no lines or streaks, people drove way out of there way to have me do there window, most had the car filled at the same time, i know the station sold more gas because i tried hard to make the customers happy, we need more drive-ins today.

 

This is a service station in north Dallas ,Tx. near Preston and forrest lane
they have four bays .I thought it was neat you dont see them anymore.

 

The author was pretty accurate on alot of this but "a typical cars 5-gallon gas tank", I don't think so.
Those were the days.

 

My uncle was a WW I vet, was what I think they called a doughboy?, had a full service gas station, overhauled motors, busted tires, welded whatever the customer wanted welded with OA, produced his own Acetylene from a carbide generator, sold bread and pop. Busted his ass and died before his time. Life wasn't as sweet as some would pretend. People didn't "fill up", because gas wasn't cheaper than it is now, it was less than 2 bits, but hourly wages averaged about 6 bits, so if one does the math the gas costs less now then it did then.

 

Being born in the early 60s, I remember the full service stations and worked at a Shell in High school pump'n gas, check oil and batterys, etc...


I remember the o'timers telling me back in the day, a man could support a family pumping gas

 

1975 to 1977 chevron station in hanford ca. started at $ 2.75 topped on at $ 3.25 per hour, bell rings you drop what your doing and pump gas , check oil , wash windows, when the owner said someday this will be a store and self serv gas and you'll go to a oil and lube store for that service i thought he was nuts, my .02. R.D.

 

I worked at a buisy station,man on friday evening it got crazy trying to do oil changes
and grease jobs with someone running over the bell every minute or so. There was a
man every friday evening that would come through pulling a race car going to the races. All he would buy is a gallon of gas in a can, dont know why. Well i was buisy with the 4 or 5 cars in line, and we were full service, windows, oil, tires, the whole ten yards. Anyway he would jump out and pump his own gas and run over and hand me a $20. and hollar keep the change, i'll never forget him, for some reason he made sure i had a little extra and did that every friday as long as i worked there.

 

here's the gas price in about '96 or so.........i even had some special bis cards with the '65 texaco logo made up.

 

I had graduated fron HS and was going to Jr College, working fulltime, trying to stay out of the draft and Vietnam. Worked a Gulf station. A certain HOTTIE would come in during the day when mom and pop were busy, driving her pop's brand new T-bird. We would fight to see who would clean the windshield because she had a habit of coming in not wearing anything but a long tailed shirt, no undies, nada.

 

My first job (not including two paper routes) was pumping gas at a 76 station in the SF Bay Area, summer of 1979, just after finishing 11th grade. I remember gas was 96.9 cents per gallon and it took a few months for it to creep over the dreaded dollar-a-gallon mark. I remember the Union Oil guys installing the new pumps with the fourth hole for the dollar digit. Great job though and I got to work on my car on weekday evenings after the boss went home for dinner.

 

This thread hits the mark. I grew up in a town of about 3300 people, and there were five service stations, all owned by guys everyone knew. It was like a rite of passage, you went to high school, got a job at the station you hung out at anyway, then scrimped and saved enough money to buy a car. The two stations where the car guys hung out at in my town were Dave's Texaco and Dean's Shell. On any given day there was something going on. Deans was the loosest hangout, and he sponsored a couple '55 Chevy dirt trackers and let a local guy, Dennis Frost tune his injected Chevy dragster there. The car was a push-start car and the push starting always took place right on main street. Imagine that today, someone watching for the cop (there was only one) and waiting for a break in traffic, since highway 101 went right through town then and they'd roll it out, set the push truck against the car and let it go. I saw my first funny car at Dean's. It was a brown Vega-bodied flopper on an open trailer. I'd give anything to know more about it today. On the rear window was lettered, "Hoot Owl, Olympia Washington" but I don't remember much more. The guys who had it had stopped in for a break from the road and my Dad, knowing I was a drag-racing fanatic, drove home to get me to come see it.
Dave's Texaco was across the street from a bar, and Dave liked hiring young guys to run the place, then hanging out at Mingos (the bar) all day. When his wife called, they would say that Dave was under a car right now and they'd have him call as soon as he was done. Then they'd send someone over that was 21 to tell Dave his wife called and he'd wander back over to make the call. Dave was also the town's fire cheif and although he was a great guy, I don't remember him being sober a whole lot. The fire department informal motto was "We saved the lot!". My Dad worked saturday's at Dave's for extra money, and his '31 coupe was always parked out front when he was there. I used to visit him and play on the rack, raid the Coke machine and listen to the older guys talk about street racing. I cannot think of a better way for a kid to spend his youth.

 

Well I am of the young generation on this forum being only 24 years old. I don't have memories of service stations but just that of what my father, grand father and in-laws tell me. I do know that the last "service" station of sort just closed in my town of Murray. It was near the square, had a couple lifts and did belts, oil changes, etc. but evidently noone stopped.

I think the technology boomed has caused cars to be more neglected that past. People go 2x over their mileage for a oil change and just laugh about it...20 years ago they would have been pushing.

But my first job was working at a Marina. have to say the closest thing to a service station nowadays. There were 4 of us that pumped all the fuel on the dock..mixed gas on 2-stroke engines. Checked oil. and occasionall would try to get the junker started that wouldn't after stopping by. Actually did some carb work once to get a guy home.

 

Ditto.... but it was a Mobile station...remember that old Chuck Berry song..."check the tires, check the oil, wash the windows, dollar gas!"

 

Man! Does this bring back memories or what? I got most of my mechanical "teachings" in a service station. My old man would "moonlight" on weekends at the mobile station on the end of our street. Sometimes I would get up early on Saturdays and go help him open up in the morning. I would wash windows, pump gas,etc. Mostly I would scrub the lube bay floors and read the old HOT ROD issues that were lying around. THAT was how I got the "disease".L.O.L.

 

in our small town I used to wash my own cars in a station cost was a dollar
sometimes did mechanic work for the owners when they got over their heads trying to fix stuff

was easy to get on a lift in those days and a dollar would bribe most people who you knew

and a few times we would dyno tune[rev up and make noise!!] before our big drag races at the next little town , let the air down to 15 psi

I worked in the Ford garage in 1965 and they hated me for working on my stuff at nite, but then came the draft and Nam and otta there pay was $1.45 as a mechanic then

 

This one is still in operation in downtown Hillsboro, Texas. I believe the building is paneled in porcelainized steel probably? I just drove by it last week.

As far as I know, this one is still in Dallas. Its a shame it may never be restored to its former glory.



Here's a great site of pictures of old Texas gas stations. Enjoy!

http://www.texasescapes.com/Texas_architecture/TexasGasStations.htm

 

I feel guilty going to a full service gas station, I'm perfectly capable of pumping gas and washing windows myself! Although, if you live in New Jersey, isn't it still illegal to pump your own gas?

 

My first job was pumping Ethyl....ha ha.

 

In '68 I was working at a Shell station I had just left the Phillips 66.
I did all thoughs things too, the best part was having the keys on that "zizzer" on my belt and the sound of that zizzzz everytime I would open the cash drawer, the only bad part was when a new car would come in and I couldn't find the gas filler, kinda embarrassing, hey I was a car guy I was supposed to know all that stuff.

 

Lots of memories working in gas stations, one of the first was covering for my brother when he had hurt his back and couldn't work for a few days. I was only 16 or 17 at the time, and the second or third day I show up to open for the day , and this 'mexican midget' greets me with a large pistol ';and tells me not to be nervous he knows what he is doing and to give him the money ,then go into the backroom and count to 100. I never counted to 100 any slower than that before or since, then called the cops. Scared the livin' shit outa me! When the cops got there they told me I had done the right thing[ no point in getting shot over 25 or 30 bucks opening bank]; the boss was not of the same opinion and demanded I replace the lost cash. The cops told him to wise up , he was having a 16or 17 yearold kid open a rural station at 6 am , maybe he would like to explain that to the oil company.
I later worked in several stations, and had about the same experiences as everyone else has related here about working stations in the fifties; never got robbed again ,once was enough.
Waldo