By Ruth A. Ringelstetter
Today, gas stations everywhere are mostly large convenience stores. They are very handy to pull up and pay at the pump and be on your way, but a lot of the history of America’s affair with the automobile has been lost. Wisconsin is no different, in that most of the small old gas and service station architecture has been lost.
Thankfully, there are a few wonderful people who long for the old days. They save these old buildings and collect gas memorabilia to display at their restored or recreated old time gas stations.
Whenever we’re near any of the ones we know about, we make sure to stop by for photos. We also take time to soak up the atmosphere. Many of these small old gas stations are reminders of the stations that we frequented when we first started to drive. I have fond memories of a little Citgo station at the edge of the business district in our home town.
The Texaco station in Independence was built by Leo Breska in 1931 when the old State Highway 93 was being improved. As roads were improved, it meant more traffic passing by and soon the town was supporting five gas stations.
The station was constructed with hollow fire-proof tiles and covered with stucco to give it a southwestern feel. It has rounded arch doors and front windows. It originally had one service bay at the back of the building, but eventually two additional service bays were added.
The station is now an auto-repair business and a used car lot. When it was just an auto-repair business, a restored Chevrolet sat in front of the pumps, but now used cars sit around the lot and it is harder to see the historic station or to get good photographs.
This small service station was a prefabricated building. It was manufactured by the Milwaukee Corrugating Company and shipped to Mineral Point in sections. It was assembled on site.
Josiah Paynter ran the station from 1925 until his death in 1934. His grandson, Chester Owens, took over and operated the station until 1940 when it closed because of wartime rationing.
We had driven past the Davis and Barnard Filling Station multiple times and had never stopped to photograph it. Often when that happens, it is because it is on a route to and from some destinations and we are always there at a bad time of day. Finally, on a late winter photography trip, we decided it was time to get a few photos before the station is no longer there.
This Tudor Revival cottage-style gas station was built in 1926. The single-bay service garage was added in 1930. The station was an affiliate of Johnson Oil when it opened. It managed to stay open through the Depression and World War II, but when the bridge over the Wisconsin River was out of service in 1946, the rerouting of traffic caused the station to close.
Since its closing, little has changed about the station. It still has the original wood and glass door and the stone veneer on the front and south side. The pit in the service bay has been filled in to make the building more safe and usable for other businesses.
We accidentally drove right by this small brick gas station when we went looking for it. We were talking, and soon we were past the furthest point I thought it could be. We turned around and found that we must have driven by almost immediately outside of town.
It is an English cottage-style station that had pumps outside. It was first a small gas station for Standard Oil, and later was also the office of the family-owned tourist camp. The tourist cabins are gone now, but the station stands as a testament to that time in our history when roadsides were dotted with these precursors of the mom and pop motels.
Freitag’s Pure Oil Station was built in 1935 by Clarence “Slim” Freitag, who was a big-band trombonist and a pilot who gave flying lessons to several Pure Oil Company executives. When Slim’s father, Henry, lost his part-ownership in an automobile sales dealership, Slim bought this corner lot and built the station for his father.
Henry passed away in the mid-1940’s and several people operated the station after that. One of those owners was Simon Meyer who ran it from the early 1950’s until the 1970’s. Shortly after it became a Union 76 station, it closed. The building was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1980 as an example of early twentieth-century architecture.
Early one morning, after Joann had read an article that the site of the historic Parman’s service station in Madison was going to be redeveloped, we visited to take some photographs. We wanted to get some pictures, since this is one of the oldest remaining gas stations in the city of Madison.
It was built by Clayton “Clayt” Parman in 1941. It was a box-like structure that combined the operator’s room with the service bays. It is covered with white stucco and has bright red trim and a flat roof.
This station had pumps offering full service until the pumps were removed in 1998 when expensive upgrades would have been required by law. The service business continued with Clayton “Junior” Parman Jr. and his brother Keith working at the shop daily.
We’ll continue our exploration of historic old gas stations as we travel around the country. It’s part of the fun of seeing what’s around the next corner or in the next town on the map. We hope you look forward to your travels the same way.
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
Shunpiking To Heaven Backroads Blog
Showing posts with label gas station. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gas station. Show all posts
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Ernie’s Diamond Service Station – (Minnesota Blessing Number 4)
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
Since our three-day autumn trip to Minnesota in 2009, I have shared what I consider to be several wonderful blessings of that trip. This is the fourth in that series of blessings.
Years ago on a photography trip to Minnesota, we passed through a small town that had an old restored gas station. When we returned to the area last October, we decided to visit this quiet rural town again.
We came through the center of town, but didn’t find the old station, so we drove down one of the other few remaining streets and there it was. The good news was that the building was still well taken care of and the antique gas pumps were still there. The bad news was that there was a big new pickup truck parked right in front of the pumps, so there was no way to capture a nostalgic shot of the front of the building.
It was around 7:00 am and the town was totally quiet at that time, so there was no one to even ask who owned the old station. I decided to take what photographs I could get of the antique advertising signs and other close-ups. As I was finishing up, I saw two gentlemen strolling down the street towards the station with coffee cups in hand.
As they approached, I struck up a conversation with them. They told me a bit about the town, that they had both grown up there, that “everybody knows everybody,” and that they were cousins. After we talked for a bit, I said, “One of you two wouldn’t be the owner of that pickup truck, would you?”
“Yes, I am,” one of them said. “You wouldn’t want me to move it, would you?” he said with a grin on his face.
“Do you own the gas station, too?” I asked.
“Yup, sure do,” he said.
“Then you must be Ernie.” A sign I had seen earlier on the front of the building said “Ernie’s Station.”
We exchanged cards and then he said, “Would you like to see the inside?”
Well, I certainly couldn’t pass up a chance like this, so I followed them to the front of the station. As Ernie approached the door, he noticed that the American flag hanging from the front of the station was a bit tangled around the pole.
“I’ll get that flag untangled for you so that your photos of the outside look better,” he kindly said as he unlocked the door.
I spent the next half hour with them as Ernie showed me his treasures. First he showed me an antique wooden phone booth (circa 1930) with a hand-crank telephone that had been down at the post office for many years.
Then he showed me some of his antique gas pumps and antique signs. And then I took a look at the vehicles that were parked inside – ones that Ernie and his cousin were working on restoring. First, there was a turquoise-colored 1955 Ford Customline automobile. There it sat with its hood up and a rag (what used to be a red plaid shirt) draped over the front fender area. And next to it stood a 1936 Plymouth truck, also in the process of being restored.
As I took my photographs, the two of them went about their business gathering things from the back. They continued to talk to me as they worked, explaining that they were heading out to chop wood so that they could heat the station and work on the vehicles throughout the coming winter. They could see that I was hurrying to photograph the inside because they were hurrying to leave. But instead of asking me to leave when they were ready to go, they told me to take my time and to make sure I closed the door when I left. And then they were gone.
I finished enjoying the old-time feeling of that old garage and the wonder of being trusted again by people I had just met. Then I closed the door behind me, took a few more photos of the outside of that wonderful old filling station, and Ruth and I headed down the still-foggy road in search of a couple of abandoned mills.
Once again, we had been blessed by the kindness of strangers who quickly became friends. This is one of the great pleasures of driving the backroads.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Since our three-day autumn trip to Minnesota in 2009, I have shared what I consider to be several wonderful blessings of that trip. This is the fourth in that series of blessings.
Years ago on a photography trip to Minnesota, we passed through a small town that had an old restored gas station. When we returned to the area last October, we decided to visit this quiet rural town again.
We came through the center of town, but didn’t find the old station, so we drove down one of the other few remaining streets and there it was. The good news was that the building was still well taken care of and the antique gas pumps were still there. The bad news was that there was a big new pickup truck parked right in front of the pumps, so there was no way to capture a nostalgic shot of the front of the building.
It was around 7:00 am and the town was totally quiet at that time, so there was no one to even ask who owned the old station. I decided to take what photographs I could get of the antique advertising signs and other close-ups. As I was finishing up, I saw two gentlemen strolling down the street towards the station with coffee cups in hand.
As they approached, I struck up a conversation with them. They told me a bit about the town, that they had both grown up there, that “everybody knows everybody,” and that they were cousins. After we talked for a bit, I said, “One of you two wouldn’t be the owner of that pickup truck, would you?”
“Yes, I am,” one of them said. “You wouldn’t want me to move it, would you?” he said with a grin on his face.
“Do you own the gas station, too?” I asked.
“Yup, sure do,” he said.
“Then you must be Ernie.” A sign I had seen earlier on the front of the building said “Ernie’s Station.”
We exchanged cards and then he said, “Would you like to see the inside?”
Well, I certainly couldn’t pass up a chance like this, so I followed them to the front of the station. As Ernie approached the door, he noticed that the American flag hanging from the front of the station was a bit tangled around the pole.
“I’ll get that flag untangled for you so that your photos of the outside look better,” he kindly said as he unlocked the door.
I spent the next half hour with them as Ernie showed me his treasures. First he showed me an antique wooden phone booth (circa 1930) with a hand-crank telephone that had been down at the post office for many years.
Then he showed me some of his antique gas pumps and antique signs. And then I took a look at the vehicles that were parked inside – ones that Ernie and his cousin were working on restoring. First, there was a turquoise-colored 1955 Ford Customline automobile. There it sat with its hood up and a rag (what used to be a red plaid shirt) draped over the front fender area. And next to it stood a 1936 Plymouth truck, also in the process of being restored.
As I took my photographs, the two of them went about their business gathering things from the back. They continued to talk to me as they worked, explaining that they were heading out to chop wood so that they could heat the station and work on the vehicles throughout the coming winter. They could see that I was hurrying to photograph the inside because they were hurrying to leave. But instead of asking me to leave when they were ready to go, they told me to take my time and to make sure I closed the door when I left. And then they were gone.
I finished enjoying the old-time feeling of that old garage and the wonder of being trusted again by people I had just met. Then I closed the door behind me, took a few more photos of the outside of that wonderful old filling station, and Ruth and I headed down the still-foggy road in search of a couple of abandoned mills.
Once again, we had been blessed by the kindness of strangers who quickly became friends. This is one of the great pleasures of driving the backroads.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Sunday, March 7, 2010
“What Do You Suppose That Was?”
By Ruth A. Ringelstetter
Here in Wisconsin, and in every state we have visited, we pass old buildings with interesting architecture. Usually, one of us will ask the other what that building might have been. Since our backgrounds are far removed from rural architecture, we are never sure, but often we have some sort of a guess.
On our trip to Ohio last April, we came upon several old buildings with long chains hanging down from the gables of the roof. We didn’t know what they were for, but we did wonder about it. Later on the trip, when we had time to read some information we had picked up about the National Road, we read that those chains were used by the local inns, taverns or stagecoach stops to alert the passing stage drivers that they had a package to pick up. They would lower a ball attached to the chain. If the ball was left high, the driver passed by without stopping. The chain in the photo is sort of hard to see, but it is hanging directly above the old front doors.
Several years ago we came upon an old stone building sitting tall at the edge of the road in Sauk County Wisconsin. As Joann photographed the building from the road, I tried to imagine what the building might have been. It resembled a mill, but we didn’t have any information about a mill in this area, and there was no water source nearby. Often the buildings we stumble on are not in any of the historic information I have found.
On our most recent visit there, it was late enough in the day and we could see that people were home at the house across the road, so we stopped. They kindly told us that they own the building now and that it was the first creamery in Sauk County. We never would have guessed that it was a creamery. It sort of resembles an old stone hotel that we have visited, or an old mill, but now we know for sure. (And we know our guesses are often wrong.)
Another case of mistaken identity is an old building with a stone front in Green County Wisconsin. We have been taking photos of it for years. We first stumbled on it while searching for a stone barn on an unnamed road. As we sat looking at that building we decided it must have been a soddy or root cellar and that someone may have built it and lived in it prior to building their eventual dwelling. Imagine our surprise when this past spring we found out that it was actually an old cheese cellar. Whether it was a cheese cellar its whole life, we don’t know, but now we have to wonder about all of the other soddies and root cellars we have recorded in our logs.
Often our logs contain entries where we have guessed the type of building we photographed, and the guess is indicated as a question mark after the description. Several years ago, in Shawano County Wisconsin, we came upon a gray building that was sort of barn-like, but set in an unusual location. It sat facing a small creek and we couldn’t imagine how the farmer could get grain or animals in and out of the barn. It also had some interesting overhangs for a barn and the doors didn’t make sense for animals. We studied it from several angles, and reasoned that it might be a mill.
Later we had the opportunity to visit with a representative of the Shawano County Historical Society. She said they had no information about anything historic in that town and when we showed her the pictures, she said it was a regular barn. We’re still not sure.
We also asked her about another building we had photographed years ago in Shawano County. It is a gorgeous old stone and wood building. Our guess was that it was a blacksmith shop, but again, she didn’t know of the building. I bought the county history booklet they had put together and read it from cover to cover. There was no mention of the town or the mysterious building. Searches of the National Historic Register and the state information I have gathered came up empty as well.
Last fall we visited the building again and were happy to see that it is still in pretty good shape. As Joann was finishing up photographing the building again, a man pulled up in a truck and she flagged him down to ask if he knew what the building had been. He confirmed that it was an old blacksmith shop. Finally, one point for us!
Last summer on a trip to Iowa, we couldn’t find a motel in any of the towns I thought would be central to our plans. We ended up going further south than planned. As we were on our way to our motel, we passed a building with very interesting architecture and I glanced at the name on the front of the building.
Joann: “What do you suppose that was?”
Ruth: “I don’t know what it was, but it’s a Fashionable Styling Salon now,” (which was the name I thought I saw on the building).
Joann: (laughing) “It doesn’t look very fashionable to me.”
Ruth: (laughing too) “That’s not very nice.”
We’re pretty sure the building was an old cottage style gas station repurposed as a beauty salon. We are always glad to see the old architecture saved, especially if the original building has not been changed too much. I don’t know why, but we didn’t stop to take a picture of that building. Perhaps we were laughing too hard.
Do you know the history of any of the old buildings you pass in your travels? Or is there an old building that fascinates you but you don’t know what the history is? If so, let us know.
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
Here in Wisconsin, and in every state we have visited, we pass old buildings with interesting architecture. Usually, one of us will ask the other what that building might have been. Since our backgrounds are far removed from rural architecture, we are never sure, but often we have some sort of a guess.
On our trip to Ohio last April, we came upon several old buildings with long chains hanging down from the gables of the roof. We didn’t know what they were for, but we did wonder about it. Later on the trip, when we had time to read some information we had picked up about the National Road, we read that those chains were used by the local inns, taverns or stagecoach stops to alert the passing stage drivers that they had a package to pick up. They would lower a ball attached to the chain. If the ball was left high, the driver passed by without stopping. The chain in the photo is sort of hard to see, but it is hanging directly above the old front doors.
Several years ago we came upon an old stone building sitting tall at the edge of the road in Sauk County Wisconsin. As Joann photographed the building from the road, I tried to imagine what the building might have been. It resembled a mill, but we didn’t have any information about a mill in this area, and there was no water source nearby. Often the buildings we stumble on are not in any of the historic information I have found.
On our most recent visit there, it was late enough in the day and we could see that people were home at the house across the road, so we stopped. They kindly told us that they own the building now and that it was the first creamery in Sauk County. We never would have guessed that it was a creamery. It sort of resembles an old stone hotel that we have visited, or an old mill, but now we know for sure. (And we know our guesses are often wrong.)
Another case of mistaken identity is an old building with a stone front in Green County Wisconsin. We have been taking photos of it for years. We first stumbled on it while searching for a stone barn on an unnamed road. As we sat looking at that building we decided it must have been a soddy or root cellar and that someone may have built it and lived in it prior to building their eventual dwelling. Imagine our surprise when this past spring we found out that it was actually an old cheese cellar. Whether it was a cheese cellar its whole life, we don’t know, but now we have to wonder about all of the other soddies and root cellars we have recorded in our logs.
Often our logs contain entries where we have guessed the type of building we photographed, and the guess is indicated as a question mark after the description. Several years ago, in Shawano County Wisconsin, we came upon a gray building that was sort of barn-like, but set in an unusual location. It sat facing a small creek and we couldn’t imagine how the farmer could get grain or animals in and out of the barn. It also had some interesting overhangs for a barn and the doors didn’t make sense for animals. We studied it from several angles, and reasoned that it might be a mill.
Later we had the opportunity to visit with a representative of the Shawano County Historical Society. She said they had no information about anything historic in that town and when we showed her the pictures, she said it was a regular barn. We’re still not sure.
We also asked her about another building we had photographed years ago in Shawano County. It is a gorgeous old stone and wood building. Our guess was that it was a blacksmith shop, but again, she didn’t know of the building. I bought the county history booklet they had put together and read it from cover to cover. There was no mention of the town or the mysterious building. Searches of the National Historic Register and the state information I have gathered came up empty as well.
Last fall we visited the building again and were happy to see that it is still in pretty good shape. As Joann was finishing up photographing the building again, a man pulled up in a truck and she flagged him down to ask if he knew what the building had been. He confirmed that it was an old blacksmith shop. Finally, one point for us!
Last summer on a trip to Iowa, we couldn’t find a motel in any of the towns I thought would be central to our plans. We ended up going further south than planned. As we were on our way to our motel, we passed a building with very interesting architecture and I glanced at the name on the front of the building.
Joann: “What do you suppose that was?”
Ruth: “I don’t know what it was, but it’s a Fashionable Styling Salon now,” (which was the name I thought I saw on the building).
Joann: (laughing) “It doesn’t look very fashionable to me.”
Ruth: (laughing too) “That’s not very nice.”
We’re pretty sure the building was an old cottage style gas station repurposed as a beauty salon. We are always glad to see the old architecture saved, especially if the original building has not been changed too much. I don’t know why, but we didn’t stop to take a picture of that building. Perhaps we were laughing too hard.
Do you know the history of any of the old buildings you pass in your travels? Or is there an old building that fascinates you but you don’t know what the history is? If so, let us know.
Happy Shunpiking!
Ruth
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