Charlie’s story started even before Charlie was Charlie. You see, my Great Grandparents (and my girls’ Great Great Grandparents), Charles Crangle and Mable (Seeley) Crangle loved each other deeply and tried to make ends meet working odd jobs and selling the produce and goods from their garden during the 1920’s Depression. Charles and Mable were very frugal people and went on to live in Cedar Falls, along with their seven children, including my grandma, Inez.
Charlie, as this beloved black truck has always been called, is a 1941 International with 73K miles on its 3-speed original flathead 6-cylinder motor. Great Grandpa Charles purchased the truck in 1948. The brand new price was $745 in 1941, and Charlie, being thrifty and conservative, paid nowhere near the asking price. The ole ’41 became Charlie’s daily driver as a city employee of Cedar Falls, even digging graves at Fairview Cemetery.
Charlie kept up with regular maintenance on the International, even finding it needed a coat of paint at one time. So, he took it upon himself to grab a paintbrush, dipped it in some old black paint, and gave it a fresh coat to spiffy it up, good as new again.
Charles would often come out to the farm of his daughter #6, Inez (Crangle), and her husband, Mads Gerholdt, to lend a hand. Mads and Inez were married with 3 children of their own, Lois, Rose, and my Dad, Jim. When Mads and Inez started on the farm, they rented and worked the land with horses and plows.
They couldn’t afford the fancy machinery till later on, so help from the father-in-law was much appreciated. And little Jimmy remembered going for rides with his grandpa when he would come out to the New Hartford farm to help. But by 1958, Charles Crangle was 80 (born in 1878) and, according to his driver’s license, could only drive during the daytime due to his lack of corrective lenses.
No one else in the immediate family could drive the 3-speed manual, and/or was a female, and didn’t have a license. And one day it was parked in the garage.
Charles Crangle died shortly after in 1967, at the age of 89, and the truck was not seen or talked of again. It seemed as if no one knew what had happened to the truck or where it was. You see, the Crangle family had lived through the Depression and had continual fears that times would revert and they would not be ready.
So, like many of that era, they saved every scrap of fabric, squandered every extra mason jar, accumulated every newspaper and stacked them clear to the ceiling – they could use all of these items for fuel to burn to keep warm, to can their produce to sell, or sew clothes for others to buy if those dismal dark days returned.
Inez and her brother Marshal were the only two out of the seven to marry. Their brother Clarence died in WWII overseas. The rest of the family continued to live in the same home, collecting items for the dreaded day they knew was upon them. It happened before, and this time they were going to be prepared. Slowly, room by room and building by building, spaces were filled with their investments and closed off.
Doors no longer could be opened. Beds could no longer be slept in by the three remaining old maids, spinsters — Mabel, and her sisters, Aline, and Evelyn. Each follows a tunnel between the accumulated masses to get to a chair to rest. Some would call them hoarders, but that was not their intent.
The day came when Grandma Gerholdt (Inez Crangle) said goodbye to her last sibling, and it was time to go through the house and all of the belongings. It was up to Grandma and Grandpa Gerholdt (Mads and Inez) as the last surviving relatives. I remember those summer weeks in 1982, cleaning out that house. I had never seen anything like it. I remember visiting from time to time, but I was really young. Now I was in middle school, and seeing all of this stuff was eye-opening and a true lesson of life and of family!
First came the house, then the sheds, and the garage. No one knew what was in any of them, or in what condition. But, soon enough, I heard hootin and hollarin coming from the garage. My Dad, little Jimmy, had cleared enough stuff from the garage to get a glimpse of the back bumper of ole Charlie. Time stood still. He was once again a toddler, looking at the back of his grandfather’s pickup, wanting to ride in it again.
It was hours and hours, but everyone was gathered around the garage as a bucket brigade, removing hoarded treasures from atop the ’41 International. Jim, at the age of 35, no longer the toddler of his grandfather’s eyes, climbed up and over the back of the pickup bed, over the roof, and was able to finally reach the engine compartment. He reached his hand inside the engine and was able to hand-crank it over! It was going to run again!!!! Charlie was alive!!!
Charlie was pulled out of the garage that day, Mads and Inez standing by, elated as ever, as a piece of their father was given back to them, they thought was lost forever. Jim had everything remain as his grandpa had it, stock. But he had it painted back to the original glossy black and the interior redone. A few minor tweaks so that it could use the roadways of today at more than 35 mph, but overall, Charlie is the same ole Charlie he was when he was bought.
As days pass by and times change, we learn we have to say goodbye to our loved ones. The last memory of Great Grandpa Charles Crangle died when my father, Jim Gerholdt, died in 2021. My mother, Marilyn, had Charlie driven to my Dad’s funeral visitation, and since then, it has not left her garage, but kept nicely covered in its own stall.
One day, Charlie will pass to either myself or my sister and then to one of our children. They are the 5th generation. They may never have met their Great Great grandparents, but may we never forget what our family’s past reveals to us each and every day.
