Memories of Mr. Ford and a Model A

Bob Beattie holds a copy of the original 1942 Model A Title. Photo by Jessica Steeley
Bob Beattie holds a copy of the original 1942 Model A Title. Photo by Jessica Steeley

BY JESSICA STEELEY
Clarkston News Staff Writer
Nearly 90 years ago Henry Ford changed one local family’s lives.
The year was 1930. Robert Beattie was working his 640-acre farm with his brother, John, one summer’s day when a Model A pulled up to the fence.
“Which one of you is Robert Beattie?” asked the man as he got out.
“I am,” Robert said, stepping forward.
“Well, we need you Monday to be at Ford Motor Company and you’re going to be a Ford dealer,” he was told.
“I’m not going to be a Ford dealer, I’ve been a farmer all my life,” Robert responded.
For Clarkston resident Bob Beattie, Robert’s son, this story is one of many shared at many a family gathering.
“Henry Ford, the old, original Henry Ford, was very particular and he didn’t like these two men that had the dealership and he wanted to get rid of them. It was up to my father to go down and take over the dealership,” Bob Beattie said.
Beattie grew up in Clarkston while his father owned and operated the Ford dealership on the corner of Main and Church streets, from 1930 until 1944.
Initially, when Beattie’s father was given the Ford dealership, he intended to get rid of the property. He told his brother to run the farm with the plan he’d be back in 30 days.
Robert left his farm in Lapeer County and headed to a bank in Clarkston, intending to sell off the property. The bank had other plans, since it had $48,000 worth of past due notes accrued by the previous owners.
It took Robert 14 years to pay off all the money, with World War II underway and lumber and steel in short supply.
During the time, the Beattie family also owned a little gas station at the corner of M-15 and what is now US-24, and a repair and gas station at the corner of Andersonville and Dixie.
That shop became their main location when tragedy struck at the corner of Main and Church.
On election night in November 1944, Robert was counting ballots at the township hall in Clarkston when somebody came busting through the door.
“Bob, your building is on fire,” he exclaimed.
They both ran across the street to the dealership, where a fire the size of a bushel basket was burning on one of the overhead doors.
Luckily, the fire department was across the street.
“I haven’t got my keys or anything, let me just smash the door and let’s get the fire out,” Robert said.
“We can’t do that until we string a hose and get to the water,” he was told.
They strung a hose down to the Millpond, but unwittingly wrapped it around a pole.
“Turn on the water!”
Nothing. Realizing their mistake, the firefighters quickly undid the tangle, but another problem presented itself. They had to change a bad nozzle.
During all the mishaps, the fire continued to grow and eventually reached 15 drums of antifreeze. The first 55-gallon drum exploded and flew right through the roof, coming back down as 55 gallons of fire on top of the building. The rest went off one after another.
The next morning, the only thing left standing was a safe in the middle of a whole mess where the dealership stood just a day before.
“Cars were all burned up, the building was completely gone,” Bob said.
That’s how the Ford dealership left Clarkston’s Main Street, but Bob said Henry Ford was in Clarkston more than that.
Ford owned the old township hall building on Main Street, he built the dam to create the Millpond, manufactured parts, and drained some swampy area to create a power plant.
He also owned a little white house next to the township building and let the tenant, Fanny Irish, live there, even putting her on the payroll as the building’s caretaker.
Ford visited Clarkston, intending to check on the building of a square dance floor – he loved square dancing – in his new factory. During the visit, he checked on Irish, who was painting the house as he walked up.
“What are you doing there, Fanny?”
“The house needs painting.”
“You don’t even own it, Fanny, why would you go to the bother and expense to paint it?”
“Well, it needs it, and I’m here, and I like it to look nice,” she replied. Ford smiled.
Later, the two sat on her porch and talked.
“Ms. Irish, if you had a car, would you drive it,” Henry Ford asked, out of the blue.
“Mr. Ford, I don’t know how to drive anything but a Model A.”
In the early forties, Ford had few Model A’s built. Bob said one day a Model A Ford was unloaded at his father’s dealership with a note from Henry Ford to get it ready and give it to Ms. Irish.
“We were always told that was the last Model A that was built, it was hand done in 1942,” Bob said. “(Ford) was that kind of a guy. He could be very sweet and very helpful. Then, he could turn right around and he could cut you right down to your knees. But he did an awful lot for Clarkston.”
Bob said Ms. Irish agreed to give him and his father the first chance to buy the car if she ever were to sell it. Many years later, in the late fifties, she called him up and said she had to sell the car, it’d been sitting in her friend’s garage for 10 years.
“A lot of people, us included, had no idea where the car was for the last 10 years, we thought she’d probably gotten rid of it a long time ago,” Bob said. “We went and got it and, believe it or not, we got it started right in the garage after 10 years of being there, we started it and we drove it out and from that point on we had kept the car.”
Beattie said they just brought the car back to Clarkston and planned to use it as a parade car.
“It has a special spot to me because it was a Clarkston car and it was one of the last Model A’s he ever built.”

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