The Backyard Club - 1934 Ford De Luxe Coupe
Seven years, four men, one beautifully restored 1934 Ford De Luxe Coupe
09/23/2018
This is a "backyard" restoration--the owner can't stress that enough. There's no way, you say, as you take in this stunning 1934 Ford Type 770 five-window De Luxe Coupe. Your eyes see flawless paint--shockingly, never buffed or waxed--on a straight body, a deeply gleaming grille and smooth upholstery, both inside and on the rumble seat. Unless you go through the photo album to see the small one-bay garage and driveway where this restoration took place, and listen to the owner's stories of owning this Ford for almost 50 years, you won't believe it's possible. But this Vineyard Green Coupe has proved that a backyard-restored car can rival the work of a state-of-the-art restoration facility when friendship, dedication and craftsmanship come together.
Back in 1964, 22-year-old West Shokan, New York, resident Howard Markle was tipped off by his cousin to a Ford Coupe for sale only seven miles away. "Because my cousin was eight years younger than me, they wouldn't sell it to him. I looked it over, then told them I'd like to buy it. They didn't want to sell it to me either, because they felt I was too young, and might turn it into a race car."
That was a legitimate concern: The Ford was Gordon Eaton's first car, the one he and his wife courted in, and they wanted it preserved. "I talked with the Eatons for three hours, and they finally said, 'We trust you; we'll sell you the car.' I'd scraped up every dollar and dime I could find, and they accepted my offer of $225. I hooked it to the back of my 1950 Ford pickup and towed it home."
Mechanical issues with the V-8 meant that Howard was unable to immediately enjoy his new purchase. Instead, he stored the Ford in his father's barn until 1984, when his friend Bruce Turner--a metal fabricator by trade-- told him that if he wasn't going to restore the car, he might as well sell it. "He said he'd be interested in helping me work on it, so we brought it up to my house and put it in the back of my one-car garage, sideways, with the nose off," he recalls. As a truck driver and house painter, Howard's busy schedule left him little free time, but another offer of help from his brother-in-law, Mike Leone, an ASE-certified mechanic, got the wheels turning in 1993--a $40,000 professional restoration estimate didn't hurt, either.
The frame was media-blasted down to bare metal using Black Beauty. It was coated with POR-15 primer before being top-coated with tough single-stage black polyurethane enamel.
"One night a week for seven years, we worked, cussed, threw things, came back the following week and did it again," Howard laughs. So Howard, Bruce and Mike met in the garage every Thursday night to turn a solid and complete, if non-running, 63,000-mile Ford V-8 into a prize-winning show car, four hours at a time.
Reproduction Tudor sedan rocker panels had to be shortened, making them fit the five-window Coupe body; this represented the largest metal repair, thanks to the car's dry storage.
The men disassembled the car, supporting the body on sawhorses so that they could remove the running gear from the frame. "We sandblasted the frame, and there was no pitting on the metal; this car came out of Massachusetts, but it had never been driven in winter. It was perfect," Howard remembers. The car's low mileage meant that many of its original mechanical components were in very good condition, including the shock absorbers. "We didn't rebuild them, just cleaned them up," Howard says. "Everything looked good when we took the top cover off the three-speed transmission, so we changed the oil and sealed it up. And the differential was sandblasted and repainted." The front end was reassembled with new bushings, and the leaf springs were cleaned and installed with new clips and mounts.
Howard had once considered modifying the Ford with hydraulic brakes, but chose to retain the mechanical brakes. "We didn't have the bracket for the emergency brake--I couldn't find one, couldn't even find a picture of one. One night, Bruce said, 'I can figure something out here.' 'How? You don't have a template or anything!' 'I'll make one,' he said. The next week, he came back with a stainless sleeve and a bracket. We bolted it to the transmission, put in the emergency brake, and it worked just right."
The Coupe didn't have its original engine when Howard bought it; it had seized after Gordon Eaton tried to do a rebuild. "It had a Sears and Roebuck block, which had some cracked water jackets; I took it out and stored it behind my dad's barn. When I went back to get it in the late 1970s, it was gone. I got a replacement 'tin can' V-8 from a 1934 Ford pickup. Zigmont Billus, of The Babbitt Pot in Fort Edward, New York, poured new babbitt main bearings, and a local shop in nearby Kingston did all the necessary machine work. New pistons and sleeves were installed, and I rebuilt the water pumps. Then the engine sat on a stand for the next 20 years."
Doing careful and tedious work with a hammer and dolly, minor dents were removed from the front and rear fenders, the four-part hood and running boards.
The body came next. "The floorpans were perfect, but there was some rust in both rocker panels," Howard says. Moisture also damaged the metal tray that collected water at the base of the roll-down rear window, and its wood support; without proper drainage, water had pooled at the front of the rear wheel arches. "We bought rocker repair panels, but the ones that came were for a sedan, so we had to split and shorten them," Mike explains. He also removed damaged metal from the lower rear fenders, and MIG-welded in new patches that Bruce had made from cold rolled steel.
The most difficult aspect of body repair was the splash pan that joined the two rear fenders. "The car had been rear-ended in the passenger corner," Howard recalls. "It was buckled and ripped in places. Mike worked on it for a long time, but I got a bit disgusted and told him to throw it away--I decided I'd buy a new one, which cost $265. When we went to put it on, we saw it was cut wrong--too narrow and too short. The company wouldn't take it back because more than 30 days had passed since we ordered it. Mike said not to worry, he'd spend more time on the old panel, and he got the pan to fit perfect. That other pan hangs on my garage wall as a conversation piece."
Mike primed and painted the underside using Sherwin-Williams materials. When it came to preparing the rest of the body, it was all hands on deck: "We wet-sanded the body before Mike primered it, because the old black and burgundy paint had been brushed on. That was our first sight of the factory green finish underneath," Howard says.
The 17-inch steel-spoke wheels were carefully and slowly painted so as to avoid runs or drips; basecoat/clearcoat polyurethane enamel provides a very durable finish.
Howard would entrust final paint to Bob Van Wagenen of Magic Touch Auto Body in High Falls, but he, Bruce and Mike did all of the prep work. "I stopped by often, and I'd run my hands over the parts," Bob says. "If I didn't like something, I made them do it again."
"We didn't use any DA sanders; everything was done by hand. Those front fenders probably took two days to sand," Mike adds. To ensure that the repaired panels all fit together properly, they reassembled the car, now in primer, before taking it apart again.
The crew had been bringing prepared parts to Bob for paint as they worked, and he sprayed them with RM single-stage acrylic enamel with hardener. "They'd bring me parts in blankets, and I'd hang them in my shop, wet the floor down, turn on the exhaust fan and have at it," Bob recalls. "Every part has three or four coats of paint on it. Because we used enamel, as soon as you spray and it's tacky--waiting 15 minutes to a half-hour, tops--you do the next coat, with no sanding between. A fender may take a couple of hours to paint, and everything is air-dried." Ultimately, the body, which was delivered to the shop on a snowmobile trailer, was painted with four coats of Vineyard Green inside and out, just like Dearborn did in 1934.
Mike rose to the challenge of painting the wheels, spraying them with a Tacoma Cream base and topping with clearcoat enamel with hardener added for durability. "It took nine hours to spray six wheels, but there were no runs," he says. Meanwhile, Bob's most difficult task was the louvered hood panels; "I didn't want to do them," he remembers with a laugh. "Every car you see at a car show, there's always a drip coming out of a louver. You can't wet-sand and polish a louver, so you've got to get it right. I don't know how I did it, but there isn't a run or a bare spot in any of those louvers."
The nine pieces of wood-grained metal trim inside the Ford were restored with equal care by Matley Wood Graining Service in Kent, Washington, while the upholstery wool materials and artificial leather soft top insert came from LeBaron Bonney. Bruce used his metalwork expertise to refurbish the original grille: "All of the bars were bent. I took it apart, straightened and tack-welded them together," he says. The original bumpers required nothing but new chrome, which was done to a high standard by Mike O'Brian in Wilmington, Massachusetts.
Those freshly painted panels made reassembly the hardest part. "It was a big trick, getting the hood panels together without chipping anything--it took a lot of hands," Howard says. "Jim Halpin, of Color Tricks in Wappingers Falls, put on the stripes. He did them freehand, without tape. I've seen a lot of striping, but I've never seen work as good as his."
It wasn't Howard's intent to create a show car, but the Ford won its class at its very first showing, and it thrilled former owner Gordon Eaton when they were reunited. "I was very lucky to have some very talented people around me," Howard says. "I think we have somewhere between 2,500 and 3,000 hours in the car. I didn't keep track of money, and I didn't pay these guys--it was a night out for them. You should have seen us in that one-bay garage, stepping over the parts, stepping over one another. They came up to have a soda, beer or snack, to hash things out and to have a good time. It turned out to be a quality piece."
The top's new tack strips were trouble; the tacks didn't hold, so they had to secure the top with bolts, nuts and washers, fitted every inch the entire way around, for perfect results.
The team, from left to right: Bob Van Wagenen, Mike Leone, Howard Markle, Bruce Turner
I turned 18 in late 1977. Ordinarily it would have been just another birthday, especially considering I had my driver’s license less than a year, but it was significant in that I was hired as a valet parking attendant at The Manor, a well-known fine dining restaurant and caterer - that doubled as a very popular wedding venue - located in West Orange, New Jersey. It also meant I could leave behind yard work, dog care, and the sporadic odd jobs of scooping ice cream and delivering newspapers.
The Manor sat on an extensive mountainside property adjacent to a wooded reservation and a golf course, so it was a great place to work outside in the fresh air. Visitors entered the property through tall gates and navigated a tree-lined driveway that led to the grand entrance of the pillared Georgian mansion. Valet parking was free and not required. If visitors opted for valet service, vehicles were driven from the main entrance to either an upper or lower lot. The farthest parking spaces were more than a quarter mile away from The Manor’s front door.
I had been into cars since childhood, so this was a magical job. I was part of a crew of six or seven that worked for tips, and we wore orange coverall uniforms so that we were easily seen at night. We routinely parked and returned more than 400 cars on a busy Saturday, with parties in the afternoon and then again at night, together with public dining.
Jockeying cars for position in shrinking lanes during return rush times made me a better and more precise driver. Another benefit was that I developed a higher appreciation for well-designed dashboards, budding smart controls, and quality upholstery. I preferred gauges to warning lamps, and I intensely disliked the flashing green and yellow dashboard fuel economy indicators that seemed unwelcome in luxury cars. The only way to make the annoying indicator stay green was to coast.
As a crew, we elbowed each other to park the hot imports, such as BMW’s 2002, Datsun’s Z variants, the first Honda Accords, Toyota Celicas, and less frequently, Volkswagen Sciroccos. These were all well-equipped, light, quick, and easy to park. It was also possible to shift them into higher gears for test drives by taking the long way around to the lower back lot. As far as I knew, none of us ever got a Porsche 911 out of second. Our boss knew the joyride risk, so we had to keep numbered dashboard tickets in sequence for assigned spaces that discouraged long drives around the property.
Photo: Hemmings Archives
I have many fond memories of the job. To start, the things people left in their vehicles were nothing short of amazing. There were open bills with private information in plain view, and mail of every other conceivable variety, as well as checkbooks, laundry, arts, and crafts in all stages of non-completion, sticky food wrappers, and other trash. I also quickly learned that a tip amount didn’t always correspond to the expense or condition of the car after one guest left a caged guinea pig in his 1967 Pontiac Le Mans when he arrived late for a wedding reception. Aside from needing to be washed and vacuumed, that car was quite fragrant. It was a dry day, so I lowered the side windows, and we took turns checking the pet as we ran to and from other vehicles. Later, the guest told me he was glad the party was over and was eager to reunite the guinea pig with his young daughter. Having noticed us checking on the pet, the car owner gave me the biggest tip I ever got to fetch a car.
Another unusual thing happened while parking a 1975 Buick LeSabre sedan. Two people got out and went inside for dinner and as I got in immediately noticed the aroma of freshly baked bagels emanating from two gigantic bags that took most of the rear seat, nearly reaching the headliner. After parking the car, I was spooked by a low voice from the far-right of the back seat that asked, “Howee doin’?” I had not seen the slight fellow partially hidden by one of the tall bags, and all I could ask was if he intended to go inside. He said he didn’t want a fancy dinner, just a nap. He offered bagels to the entire crew, which were delicious, and stayed in the car and slept for two hours.
Rare cars would roll up on occasion, including one almost everyone guessed was a Maserati, though I recognized it as a Facel Vega. The exhaust growl of the Chrysler Hemi V-8 was positively rhapsodic, and the grand tourer had polished wood throughout its interior. We parked it in a special spot on an outer aisle near the front door and overheard customers speculate what it was while waiting for their own cars. When the tweedy owner eventually came out, my boss, Ray, was determined to sound smart and amuse himself. He conspicuously and formally signaled, “Christopher, the Facel Vega, please.” Seeing where we placed his pride and joy, the owner gleamed. He may have enjoyed that moment more than his dinner.
Another story involved a regular customer’s Cadillac Seville during lunch hour, when Ray often let me work alone so he could get a break. Two County Sheriff’s detectives stopped to tell me they were looking for two inmates who had escaped from the local penitentiary wearing–what else–orange coveralls. They were last seen running on the neighboring golf course. Of course, we always left keys in the ignition of parked cars. The detectives asked how many cars remained from lunch, and whether I could account for each. To my dismay, the Cadillac (one of only three cars left in my charge) was gone! The owner was very classy when the detectives needed his license plate number and unselfishly said he was glad I had not run into the thieves. Luckily for me, the car was recovered unscratched at a nearby shopping center, but we never heard if the thieves were caught.
I rarely drove a car onto the open road, but one exception was a permanent resident’s 1976 Rolls Royce Silver Shadow. The luminous dark red sedan was overdue for its annual state inspection and the owner’s wife “volunteered” me to drive it to the inspection station in the next town. The engine was so quiet and vibration-free that I had to concentrate to hear it. The interior was beautifully appointed with the finest leather I had ever seen or touched. Intuitive controls were set in burled walnut. In my opinion the steering wheel was somewhat primitive and too hard for an ultra-luxury auto, but it was a minor nitpick since the car was a magic carpet. It literally floated when put in drive. As expected, there were no buzzes, squeaks, or rattles. It handled well and predictably with adequate road feel, despite its considerable weight. Power came immediately at the slightest touch, suggesting ample reserve, and the Rolls-Royce stopped on a dime.
Photo: Hemmings Archives
Admittedly, I was very nervous driving it, even when it seemed other drivers stayed out of the way once I reached a multi-lane avenue. The inspection station was in a not-so-nice area on a narrow, bumpy street, and being near closing time the station was busy. I had to get in a line that snaked around the block and all I could do was hope nobody hit the darn thing.
As I crawled to the entrance, the inspection staff was laughing and pointing at me, still wearing my orange coveralls: “Hey kid, how did you get out of jail and where did you get that car?” Fortunately, my uniform sported a company crest. Seeking mercy, I said it was the boss’ car. Then the Rolls failed its emissions test. Adding to the insult, the dented, oxidized Volkswagen Beetle behind me passed with flying colors. In those days, a sticker with a big red circle signifying failure was affixed to the windshield’s lower left corner. You couldn’t miss it.
I finally relaxed when I pulled the Silver Shadow into the familiar driveway without incident. To my surprise, the owner’s wife was happy to see that the car failed, because now she could get it tuned up without further debate. Apparently, her husband was always working and neglected his cars. We were reminded of that later when we had to jump the battery in his seldom-driven Jaguar XJ12. The next time I saw the Rolls it had a proper inspection sticker.
After parking cars for eighteen months, I transferred inside to become a bartender as my college days progressed. I missed handling the cars, but not enduring cold winter nights or donning those orange coveralls. Over the years I have almost always insisted on parking my own car, but when valet parking is unavoidable, particularly in a city, I tip in advance. It’s remarkable how a few dollars will often gain a spot close to the attendant’s booth, sometimes with a safety cone next to our car.
Americans rediscovered factory performance thanks, in part, to NASCAR’s first official Strictly Stock (quickly renamed Grand National) race, held on June 19, 1949, on Charlotte Speedway’s ¾-mile dirt oval. What made the 200-lap contest compelling to the 13,000 attendees was a relatable starting field of 33 factory-stock cars (with minor provisions allowed for safety). Of the nine makes that took the green flag (Buick, Cadillac, Chrysler, Ford, Hudson, Kaiser, Lincoln, Mercury, and Oldsmobile), Jim Roper and his 1949 Lincoln were declared victors following the disqualification of Glenn Dunnaway and his 1947 Ford, the latter’s rear spring having been modified for its day-to-day life as a moonshine hauler.
By the end of the 1955 season, Buick, Chevrolet, Oldsmobile, Chrysler, Dodge, Plymouth, Ford, Mercury, Hudson, Nash, Studebaker, and even Jaguar, had been added to the list of race-winning manufactures. Absent was Pontiac, though not for a lack of effort. Thirteen drivers had entered Pontiacs, a combined total of just 25 races. Freddie Lee provided the best result, a fourth, at Carrell Speedway in Gardena, California, on June 30, 1951.
Photo by Matthew Litwin
Race wins touted in national headlineswere not lost on manufacturers, so by the start of the 1956 season nearly every major domestic brandhad invested performance resources into NASCAR. Pontiac initially supported two teams: Jim Stephens (Stephens Pontiac), and A.L. Bumgarner (Brushy Mountain Motors). Each were armed with a new-for-1956 engine designed for racing: a 316.6-cu.in. V-8 fitted with dual Rochester four-barrel carburetors that, along with a high-performance camshaft, dual-point distributor, specialized valley cover, and 10:1 compression cylinder heads, conspired to produce 285 horsepower (in street trim, mind. It’s well-known that racers knew how to make more horsepower).
A Pontiac win looked favorable, beginning with the sixth race of the season at the Daytona Beach/Road race, where Stephens’ two-car effort - with Ed Kretz and Cotton Owens - qualified 3rd and 4th, while Junior Johnson, in Bumgarner’s Pontiac, qualified 26th in the 76-car field. None saw the checkered flag. Johnson crashed, and the Stephens effort was met with mechanical woes. It was a sign of things to come. Strong as Pontiac was, bad fortune and mechanical reliability were its Achilles’ heel. Pontiac attained just 17 top 10 finishes with a best of 3rd recorded by Pat Kirkwood in a Stephens’ Pontiac.
Going winless, coupled with poor street ability of the dual-quad 316.6 V-8, spurred Pontiac to develop Tri-Power and fuel-injected 347-cu.in. engines for 1957. They became instant hits on the track - the brand notched two wins prior to a June rule change that mandated a single four-barrel induction system - and on the street, leaving the dual-quad 316.6 a nearly forgotten footnote of Fifties factory performance.
Rare reminders, however, still exist, such as this bred-for-NASCAR 1956 Pontiac twin Rochester carburetor and intake manifold assembly spotted for sale at the 2023 AACA Eastern Fall Meet in Hershey, Pennsylvania. Also included as part of the $4,500 package price was the system’s specific air cleaner assembly, which looked similar that of Cadillac’s (the two reportedly would not interchange without modifications). Save for rebuilding the carburetors, it looked ready to install on a specific “HY” stamped block.
ASKING PRICE:$4,500
FOUND AT: 2023 AACA EASTERN FALL MEET (HERSHEY, PENNSYLVANIA)