The Kranks Hot Rod Club

It was the 1950s and things were relatively peaceful. Ike Eisenhower was the president and the only thing to worry about was nuclear annihilation. The streets of East Greenwich were alive: business was good, people's wallets were refreshed.

The first automobiles manufactured after the Second World War were starting to show wear and those who could afford new ones bought them. Some of the cars they traded in were bought up by teenage boys just getting their driver's licenses. The time for girls driving was coming but not there yet. It was the time of hot rods, those cars pushed past their originally manufactured specifications by added carburators and loud exhaust systems. It was a time when drag racing was not the expensive high-tech thing it is today, but open to any vehicle that could crawl out onto the country roads: sounds of squealing tires and smells of burning rubber in the night!

It was the time for hot rod clubs, loose organizations of young lads bonding together to compare innovations under the hood, trade engine parts, and improve driving skills. Country-wide, these clubs formed up and were reported monthly in Hot Rod magazine and other such periodicals.  With pictures of body modifications intended to improve on Detroit's efforts, called “customizing,” these magazines were scooped up as soon as they hit the newsstands.

James Dean’s movie "Rebel Without a Cause" represented the movement until he killed himself in a car accident in 1955. Fast cars, tops down, drivers steering with the left while the right was around the shoulder of a pretty girl, duck's ass haircuts, turned up collars, and cigarettes tucked into a rolled up sleeve. New meaning for the word “cool.”

In East Greenwich, such a club was formed by 15 to 20 area lads, myself included. Named the Kranks, members met at an old barn on Water Street and later at a barn on Route 2. Automotive innovations divided into two categories: improving the car's looks or improving speed, power. One either had a fast car or a show car but seldom had both. “All show and no go” or “all go and no show!”
Early on, Fords were the most popular but when Chevrolet came out with V-8s in 1955, the playing field got even. Everything else was a distant third.

My first car was a 1950 Ford convertible, seven years old and a visual wreck. I paid $100 for it. It was a drab, faded brown and gave new intensity to the term for convertibles, “rag-top.” By the time I sold it three years later, it was painted a sharp black, it had a new white canvas top by our own Kent Auto Top on Main Street, and rolled and pleated Naugahyde (vinyl) upholstery from a later model Mercury. Obviously I was of the All Show/No Go side of the persuasion.

After I ruined five transmissions, I stopped drag-racing and concentrated on show. My buddy Elisha Ellis liked dragging though and he developed a speed-shift from first gear into second that was so fast you would miss it if you blinked. His hand would be on the shifter at lower right of the steering wheel and then it was on the upper right and you didn't see it move, you just heard a vibrant clunk. It helped, of course, but the old 1947 Plymouth coupe wasn't very fast to begin with. Still, he had one mean speed-shift. Member Nick Iannone had a 1951 Ford six-cylinder in which he developed a novel was of “improving” the sound from the exhaust system. He had the six cylinders divided so two of them exhausted through one tailpipe and four through the other. A very unusual sound indeed, but you had to be there to appreciate such things.

Loosely formed around Robert's Rules of Order, Kranks meeting agendas mostly considered things to improve public image and divert police attention from the street racing taking place late in the evenings. Paramount to image enhancement was the hot rod club plaque, see picture, hanging from the back bumper. Early on it was felt that lowering the back end of a car put more weight on the rear axle, thus giving it more traction. When they were low, the club plaque would clink on the ground, a sign the car was low enough. Later they figured raising the rear up high had a more positive effect and this seems to be rule even today in the drag-racing circuit.

The Kranks, of which I was a member, of course, often entered a float in the town's parades. We all wore green work uniforms with our names on them and marched behind a trailer carrying whatever member's car was most impressive at the time. Sometimes it was Lee Steele’s Model A Ford, but he also owned the trailer which gave him an edge. The Kranks also had rallies at the First National store parking lot to test driving skills. Police were invited to take part to show all was on the up-and-up. Tests were mostly to illustrate that you could put the car where you wanted it to be. Such skills as parallel parking and getting really close to the car in front without actually touching it. No high-speed stuff. 

Since we were, by then, all draft age, the Kranks only existed from perhaps 1956 through 1960 or so. I don't recall its passing but I suspect it was a quiet fizzle and it only comes to mind now because Lee Steele came to town last weekend and he brought the Kranks plaque that he found in his old stuff. It's the only one known to still exist although I've heard rumors. This is a real piece of East Greenwich memorabilia. It represents the local contingent of the country-wide group of people who formed the basis of the car shows, swap meets, and automotive get-togethers going on today. One of my few regrets in life is that I didn't pack away a couple of those old Fords, Firebirds, and Corvairs I had years ago so that I could bring them out today. Sadly they are all in the junkyards or coming back to us today as Made in China tools and washing machines.

Any of you old Kranks still around who might have something to add to this, now's your chance. My memory is what it is! This story and the plaque that goes with it will go into the town's history book if it ever comes out.