David Smigelski
photography by Tyler Maddox

October 01, 2007
There’s an old saying that even politicians and ugly buildings become respectable if they’re around long enough. The same could be said of street rodders, those rebellious boys and girls of yesteryear who once gave parents and town sheriffs nightmares.

Today’s street rodders don’t usually sport greased-back hair and lay stripes on Main Street anymore. They’re more likely to be successfully retired business people and professionals. Their rod runs, which used to be held on empty stretches of darkened highways or airport runways, have morphed into charity events, family barbecues and tourist draws. And the cars, those rumbling, chopped, souped-up machines that working-class kids could afford to own, now cost more than the houses their parents owned.

Distinctly Northwest Photo Gallery Street Rod Sculptor
When people speak of Tommy Carr, they use adjectives like “genius,” “master,” and “true talent” to describe his artistic prowess, superlatives you wouldn’t generally attach to the blue-collar profession of auto body painting and repair.

But Tommy Carr is no ordinary body man. He is, in the truest sense of the word, an artiste whose medium just happens to be cars.

“The man is a genius,” says Cathy Steele, who trusted Carr to paint her rare, $400,000 Chrysler DeSoto, a 1940 street rod that wins awards wherever it goes. “Tommy can look at a car and in his mind see what it needs to enhance it. That is such a talent.”

“He’s the master,” agrees Bunny Jeboult, who has had two street rods painted in Carr’s Gold Hill shop, a 1940 Ford Deluxe Convertible and a 1946 Ford Super Deluxe that is presently at the shop.

“He has an uncanny mind and ability to visualize color schemes that will stand out,” says Jeboult, of Central Point. “I personally know of 15 cars that have come out of his shop in the last four years, and they have all been winners. They win awards at every show we’re at.”

The only knock against Carr is a tongue-in-cheek complaint that he can’t paint a car only one color.

He admits it’s true.

The cars that come out of his shop always contain shades and blends, with subtle — and sometimes not so subtle — gradations that move through the spectrum, incorporating the pearl, candy-apple and metal flake finishes favored by street rod judges and enthusiasts.

“What we do really is more of an art form than just building a car,” he says. “The difference is that a painting or a sculpture doesn’t move down the highway and go up and down hills.”

Carr started his career in the 1970s as a conventional body man, running a collision and insurance repair business with his brother in Central Point. In 1998, he and his wife, Debby, moved to a spot along the Rogue River, a stone’s throw from Del Rio Vineyards and the Rock Point Bridge. There he focuses on his true love — building, designing and painting street rods. Their oldest son Jacob, a vascular technician, lives in Jacksonville, Oregon. Their youngest son, Travis, is studying to be a nurse in Jacksonville, Fla.

Carr’s four-bay shop fronts the highway and almost completely hides the house out back. From a deck behind the house, he can sit and watch salmon spawn and osprey dive in the Rogue.

People who take their cars to him have to trust his ability and advice, because he demands the artistic freedom to go where his vision takes him.

“When we build a car, we want to please the customer,” he says. “But going in I always tell them I want the freedom to express something. They are usually open to our suggestions.”

As Carr’s vision for a particular vehicle coalesces, he will keep his customer apprised by painting panels of metal in the schemes he envisions. These sample swatches are sometimes pieces of art in their own right — Bunny Jeboult hung his on the wall — and can cost close to $1,000 in materials, a price Carr says he does not pass along.

The actual painting process encompasses 22 different steps, and all of it, including the sanding between steps, is done by hand.

Such attention to detail leads to award-winning work, but it also takes time. Carr usually takes about eight months to paint a car, and it can take a couple of years if he is doing a complete redesign and build.

The Steeles, who spent half a decade rebuilding their DeSoto, understand that you can’t rush art. And when they first saw the job Carr did on their treasure, they knew their patience and trust had been repaid.

“It was overwhelming,” Cathy Steele says. “It was so beautiful. He went far beyond what we expected. The man is talented.”
But the underlying thrill of rodding, and the counter-culture bent of people who devote themselves to the hobby, still throbs in America.

“It used to be a counter culture, bad boy sort of thing,” says Steve Simmons, a board member of the Jefferson State Street Rods, a club in Grants Pass with about 70 families as members. “Now it’s a family sport and the women are as involved as the men.”

“It’s a lot like the Harley riders,” says George Bailey, president of the Rogue Valley Street Rodders, a club with roughly 150 members. They have raised more than $300,000 for charity throughout the years with events like the annual Rogue Valley Rod and Custom Show at the Jackson County Fairgrounds. “Years ago, the motorcycle clubs had a less-than-shining reputation. Now it’s lawyers and doctors. It’s evolved and people have grown up, and it’s become more socially acceptable.”

Bailey is a prototypical rodder, a throwback to the bad boy days who has mellowed with time. He owned his first street rod at 16, a 1949 Ford Model A Coupe. He’s now 62. Over the years he’s owned more than 100 rodded-out cars and trucks and 20 motorcycles.

Today he and his wife Gini each have one rod. His is a 1929 Nash 4-door sedan. Hers is a 1933 Plymouth Coupe that’s still a work in progress. Then again, street rods are always a work in progress, that’s part of what makes them street rods.

The semi-official definition of a street rod is any car built before 1949 that has been gutted and stuffed with high-powered, late-model engines, drive-trains and other internal accessories, sometimes including tilt steering, power seats, air bags, air conditioning and other options you might find in a new Lexus. Cars built after 1948 and “rodded out” are usually referred to as hot rods or street machines.

Street rods are also likely to sport high-end paint jobs, with candy apple, pearl and metal flake finishes, often accented by flames, stripes, decals or other details — but not always. Souped up, chopped down rods with weld marks and unsanded primer — the way the old backyard rods used to look — are sometimes referred to as “rat rods,” and are looked down upon by some in the sport. Rat rod aficionados say they’re nearer the roots of rodding, and they wear their Bondo and primer like badges of honor. Street rodders are split on the subject, with some saying the flashy paint and painstaking detail are an integral part of the package.

Although they might look old, street rods should not be confused with vintage cars, which are meticulously restored cars in which original parts are used to make them like they once were. Street rodders use new parts to take their cars beyond what they ever were. To vintage car buffs, historical integrity is paramount. To street rodders, historical integrity is a straight-jacket that gets in the way of creativity and fun.

Street rods are further defined by a distinction known to all rodders: your car is either a “driver” or a “trailer queen.”

A driver has bugs in the grill and dirt on the tires. A trailer queen is a show car that gets carted on a trailer and rests on carpeted floors inside expo halls and fairgrounds. Drivers are the ones you see in highway caravans on weekends. Trailer queens sit on raised pedestals with mirrors underneath, so judges can inspect the undercarriage details.

“All my cars are drivers,” Simmons says proudly, with a hint of defiance that is common when you ask a rodder whether their car is a driver. “If mine’s on a trailer, it’s broken.”

Steve Olsrud of Medford, who owns a 1931 Plymouth 3-window Coupe, laughs at the question and the underlying rivalry it evokes. “They’ll all say they’re drivers, and if they trailer their car, they won’t like to admit it,” he says.

Bunny Jeboult and his wife, Charlotte Franklin-Jeboult, own four street rods. They live half the year in Central Point and half the year in British Columbia, keeping two cars at each home. Bunny says all of his cars are drivers, except for the one that isn’t.

“I build all my cars to cruise,” he says, “but Charlotte’s is a trailer queen. We built it to be a driver, and in a year or two we’ll start driving it. But for now, it’s more of a show car.”

And quite a show car it is. Nicknamed “Chantilly Lace,” Charlotte’s trailer queen is a 1940 Ford Deluxe Convertible that has absorbed about $150,000 worth of tender loving care, and which has repaid the Jeboults by winning awards at shows up and down the West Coast.

“We did a complete rebuild,” says Bunny, who is a retired telephone man from BC Tel. “Everything on the car, from the ground up, has been modified in some way, but we kept the 1940 Deluxe appearance. It took two years to complete.”

Cathy and Butch Steele of Grants Pass are another of those split families, with a driver and a trailer queen sharing the family’s affection. The driver is a 1931 Ford Model A. The trailer queen is a 1934 Chrysler DeSoto Airflow, a legendary car that made the cover of Time magazine when it was introduced.

“The DeSoto is drivable,” says Cathy Steele, “but she’s been on the indoor car circuit, so she’s being babied a little bit right now.”

The Steeles have owned the DeSoto for 10 years and took five years to rebuild her. The car features a 331 Chrysler Hemi engine, air bags, all-leather interior, sun roof, stereo console, electronic doors and numerous other modifications. The car, worth about $400,000, has been on the show circuit for 18 months, and has won numerous awards, including 10 Best of Shows and four Best of Paint awards.

While show cars like Chantilly Lace and the DeSoto are an integral part of the street rod scene — all street rodders love to turn heads when they go down the road — most rodders have motivations other than awards.

Most are tinkerers who prefer to do their own rebuilding. They all talk about the rumble of the engines and the ego boost that comes from having people admire their cars. They’re just as likely to talk about the camaraderie they feel at rod runs and barbecues, about the lifetime friendships they make at club events and shows, and about the sense of nostalgia that comes from keeping a treasured piece of their past alive.

“We’re not real big on shows for trophies,” says Steve Simmons, who says he and his wife, Cathy, put between 5,000 and 10,000 miles on their rods each summer. “We do it because we like to meet new people and go to fun places.”

For many people, buying a street rod is a chance to do something they always wanted to do, but never had the time or money to invest.

“I always wanted a little Ford coupe from the time I was in high school,” says 59-year-old Steve Olsrud. “Then I got married and had kids, and I had to wait for the kids to grow up.”

Olsrud’s story is a common one, says Tommy Carr of Gold Hill, whose work as a car painter and builder is renowned among rodders.

“They tend to be guys who had families and other obligations when they were younger,” Carr says. “Now their obligations are fulfilled and they want that car they had when they were younger.”