GOLDEN ERA OF THE AMERICAN CAR by Ellen Butler

In keeping with the 1950s, for my Ariadne Winter mysteries, today I’m talking about my favorite car era. As a car enthusiast, I did my due diligence when it came to researching vehicles of the decade. While a fan of automobiles from the 20s and 30s, my favorite era has become the 50s. 

The 1950s were a golden era of American automobiles—a decade when chrome gleamed, tailfins soared, and cars weren’t just transportation but rolling expressions of art. Postwar prosperity collided with a culture hungry for style, convenience, and futuristic fantasy, and the result was one of the most iconic periods in automotive history.

Styling That Turned Heads

Design in the 1950s leaned hard into spectacle. Automakers wanted cars that inspired awe the moment they hit the street. Sweeping tailfins—made famous by Cadillac—became the decade’s signature flair. They were bold, aerodynamic-looking (whether or not they truly were), and symbolized progress, speed, and the Jet Age. Two-tone paint schemes, wraparound windshields, chrome bumpers, and interiors that mixed comfort with drama all defined the decade.

Cars like the Chevrolet Bel Air, Ford Fairlane, and Chrysler 300 didn’t just transport families—they made a statement. The look said: America is moving forward, and we’re going in style.

Why all the flash? Because the 1950s were a time of soaring national confidence. The war was over, suburbs were growing, and technology—from jet engines to home appliances—felt miraculous. Designers took cues from rockets, airplanes, and science-fiction dreams.

Automobiles became tied to identity and aspiration. Owning a stylish car wasn’t just owning a machine—it was owning a piece of the American Dream. The country believed in bigger, better, and newer. Automotive design mirrored that optimism with sweeping curves and sparkling chrome.

Price Tags and Accessibility

While some of the most visually dazzling models carried premium price tags, the 1950s also saw a push to make cars widely accessible. A new Chevrolet or Ford might run between $1,500 and $2,500 depending on the model and options—numbers that sound small today but represented an attainable goal for the growing middle class. Luxury brands like Cadillac, Packard, and Lincoln landed in the $3,000–$5,000 range, offering prestige to those who could afford it.

Automakers cleverly marketed optional add-ons—whitewall tires, power steering, radios, and automatic transmissions—turning cars into customizable personal statements. Buyers could start modestly and add flair as their wallet allowed.

The Major American Motor Companies

The “Big Three”—General Motors, Ford, and Chrysler—dominated the 1950s automotive landscape.

• General Motors was the powerhouse, with brands like Chevrolet, Pontiac, Oldsmobile, Buick, and Cadillac. GM’s design chief Harley Earl practically invented the look of the decade, championing tailfins, chrome, and concept cars.
• Ford Motor Company kept pace with vehicles like the Thunderbird and the ever-popular Ford sedan lines. Ford’s focus on affordability and reliability made it a family favorite.
• Chrysler emphasized engineering excellence, featuring powerful engines and sleek “Forward Look” styling from designer Virgil Exner.

Smaller companies—Studebaker, Packard, Nash, and Hudson—added personality and creativity but struggled to survive against the giants.

The cars of the 1950s remain timeless icons. They weren’t just machines; they were symbols of optimism, style, and ambitious imagination. Even today, a glimpse of a finned beauty cruising down the road feels like a trip back to an era when America believed the future had no limits—and designed its cars accordingly.

MIRACLE OF MIRACLES By Jeff Tanner, Guest Blogger

Thunkin Theodore - photo finish

Miracle of miracles, I was scheduled to teach a two-day workshop in San Antonio when I learned my horse, Thunkin Theodore, was running in the 4^th race at Retama Park in Selma, Texas, just outside San Antonio. What a great opportunity! I invited the entire workshop to come out for the race – and a photo in the winner’s circle if we won.

We decided to name him for our oldest son, Ted, and honor Ted’s namesake, my baseball-playing uncle. Hence the name “Thumping Theodore,” also Ted Williams’ nickname. My uncle wasn’t the caliber of Ted Williams, only rising to A ball in the minors. But the Jockey Club couldn’t read my writing on the application so Theo’s official name was Thunkin Theodore.

When he was born, we didn’t know what kind of horse we had. Was he hard-working or lazy? Smart or dumb? Our hearts soared with hope when he raced other foals and yearlings in the pasture, always running through to the end even when he wasn’t first. The road from a race around the fence line to the winner’s circle at the track, though, is long and arduous.

We still weren’t sure about him after his first two races. We first tried him on turf—his sister won twice on the grass. But our big strapping bay tiptoed all the way around the track. That’s not how you win. So this time, we were trying him on the dirt. And this time, the competition was steeper than any he’d faced.

Still, despite the fluttering in my stomach, I’d only promised the workshop’s participants a night’s entertainment, not a victory. The odds-makers agreed, with Theo not among the favorites.

About eight of the participants took me up on my offer, clustering around me, the trainer, and the jockey in the paddock before the race. Tommy Morgan, my trainer, was a laconic West Texan, not prone to talking. The jockey, however, enjoyed chatting up the young blonde in our group.

When the horses broke from the gate, Theo was right there, in fourth a little off the pace, just as Tommy instructed. That way, there’d be juice in the tank at the end.

The horses turned for home with Theo in second. At the 8^th pole, a furlong before the end of the race, he was in first, with a horse coming up on his left and another to his right. Each of the other horses surged forward, both on the inside--between Theo and the rail. Theo responded, running even harder.

He was determined.

You can’t train that into a horse. It’s part of who they are. That’s what separates the winners from trail ponies and yard art.

Theo was so determined that he sprained a ligament just after he crossed the finish line, though we didn’t know it at the time. Our little group posed in the winner’s circle with a triumphant Theo and his smiling jockey. Even Tommy had a small grin, apparently entertained as he watched the jockey talk more with the blonde.

As Tommy said, “It helps when the jockey has a little extra motivation.”

Later, I took the group back to the stables. Theo was enjoying an after-race snack of fresh grass alongside the fence. Another horse was being led by.

Theo saw him, raised up, and trumpeted loudly. “I won! I am the King!”

The other horse lowered his head and slunk past.

Theo’s ligament healed up nicely and he came back to race--and win--again. Over his career, Theo ran in twelve races, posting two wins and two second places. When his racing days were over, he became a jumper, continuing to compete, continuing to give it his all. But that first win – that was special.

Miracle of miracles. 

BEST WRITING ADVICE (PART FOUR) : MURDER YOUR DARLINGS by Penny Hutson

“Murder your darlings,” is a term coined by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch in the early 1900s. In 2020 Roy Peter Clark titled his book, Murder Your Darlings: And Other Gentle Writing Advice from Aristotle to Zinsser. Others have used the phrase or some version of it in the years between.

In short, it means to cut out any unnecessary writing. In practice it’s revision on steroids.

The concept skyrockets beyond deleting filler words, unnecessary adjectives, and unclear lines. To “murder your darlings” means to mercilessly slash those gorgeously written passages and clever lines you love when they don’t support the main idea, further the story, add to a character’s development, or aid the readers’ understanding. In other words, if it's not serving a specific purpose, cut it out. 

When you do that, something magical happens. A shiny pebble emerges from the rubble, like an ancient gold coin beneath the archaeologist’s brush. Eventually, an entire chest of doubloons is unearthed; hidden until all the dirt and rocks are removed. Like an archaeologist, a writer must eliminate everything that isn’t a necessary part of the main message or story.

When you cut away the excess, your message becomes clearer, focused, and powerful because it’s not mixed in a cloud of extraneous stuff that doesn’t support the overall message or story. Every detail, explanation, dialogue, or description will add to or detract from your piece. There’s nothing in-between - no neutral words, so to speak. If you want to show a character’s cheerful but naïve personality, for example, don’t crowd the page with actions or speech that doesn’t explicitly demonstrate that or appears to contradict it.

All this talk of cutting may leave one with the misunderstanding that shorter is always better or that the goal is to be brief. Nothing could be further from the truth. In one of the most used and iconic books on writing, The Elements of Style, Strunk and White tell us that it is not necessary to “make all sentences short or avoid all detail . . .” but it requires “that every word tell.” That’s the key. Every word must count, and the book’s slim 85 pages illustrate that point.

Thomas Jefferson took this concept a step further to say, “The most valuable of all talents is that of never using two words when one will do.” He’s referring to the gluttony of speech, while demonstrating the economy of words within his own quote.

Often, however, less is truly more. In his book, On Writing, Stephen King shows the reader a passage from one of his novels in which he describes a restaurant/bar using only four details, but it’s enough. He admits he had tons of other details he excluded, writing that, “It will not behoove me (or you) to wander off into thickets of descriptions just because it would be easy to do.” In his opinion, “. . .it’s not about the setting, anyway – it’s about the story.” A perfect example of someone murdering their darlings in service of the story.

But let’s be honest, it’s hard to delete something you’ve spent hours agonizing over – especially when it’s good. I have many perfect comebacks, dazzling descriptions, and clever lines that didn’t further the plot or add to my story. The best and hardest thing I’ve done is to cut them out during the revision process. Truthfully, the more I do it, the easier it becomes; though it’s never easy. I promise it will take your writing to the next level.

So, pick up the sword of revision with gusto and determination to slay the writing that impedes your work as Luke Skywalker clutched his light saber to destroy the dark forces in his world. Good luck, my friends; and may the force be with you.

If you liked “Part Four” in my “Best Writing Advice” series, you may want to read or reread Parts One, Two, or Three. See the links below.

__________________

The Almighty B-I-T-CH https://sandinourshorts.blogspot.com/2025/08/best-writing-advice-part-three-almighty.html

Don’t Look Back! https://sandinourshorts.blogspot.com/2025/06/best-writing-advice-part-two-dont-look.html

The Three Rs – Read, Read, Read https://sandinourshorts.blogspot.com/2025/04/best-writing-advice-part-one-remember.html

Penny Hutson also has a short story in a new anthology Costal Crimes 2 : Death Takes A Vacation available at https://wildsidepress.com/coastal-crimes-2-death-takes-a-holiday-paper/  from Wildside Press

ROBERT W. SERVICE: THE MAN WHO DIDN'T FIT IN by Michael Rigg

Robert W. Service (1874 - 1958)

“Gold!” One of the few words to spark bouts of mass hysteria—group insanity some might argue. And so it was just before the turn of the twentieth century. Discovery of gold near the Klondike River in Canada’s Yukon Territory in August 1896 unleashed a three-year epidemic known as the Yukon Gold Rush.

In total, “gold fever” infected over 100,000 people. They came from every corner of the continent, intent on reaching Dawson City, epicenter of the mining effort, where they hoped to find their personal end-of-the-rainbow. Of those starting the journey, only thirty or forty percent (approximately 30,000 to 40,000) made it to Dawson City, turned away along the route by a combination of expense, hardship, and death. Only about half of those who made it to the gold fields became prospectors. Only a few hundred became rich.

But this mass hysteria produced some unplanned riches—a bonanza of novels and verse describing the rush, the challenges, the victories, and the defeats. Among the authors tapping into this rich vein of success and heartache were Jack London (The Call of the Wild and White Fang), Tappan Adney (The Klondike Stampede), and my favorite, Robert W. Service.

Born on January 14, 1874 in Lancashire, England, Service spent his formative years in Scotland. He grew up reading the works of Rudyard Kipling and Robert Louis Stevenson and briefly studied literature at the University of Glasgow. In 1894, Service went to western Canada, where he worked in a variety of jobs, including as a cowboy and later as a bank teller, first in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory and in 1908—well after the Klondike Gold Rush had run its course—in Dawson City.

While the fever was gone, the memories remained. And Service drilled into the reminiscences of former miners and others, extracting material that formed the basis for the works earning him a reputation as “Bard of the Yukon.”

Service published numerous collections of poetry during his lifetime, including Songs of a Sourdough or Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses (1907), Ballad of a Cheechako (1909), and Ballads of a Bohemian (1921), as well as two autobiographies and six novels. He was a correspondent for the Toronto Star during the Balkan Wars of 1912-13, and served in World War I as an ambulance driver in France. After the war, he married Germaine Bougeoin and they resided mainly in the south of France until his death on September 11, 1958. Several of his novels were made into films, and he also appeared as an actor in The Spoilers, a 1942 film with Marlene Dietrich.

Were I to ask you to name some of his poems, you’d likely respond with “The Shooting of Dan McGrew,” “The Spell of the Yukon,” or “The Cremation of Sam McGee.” All excellent tales, indeed.

But my favorite is “The Men That Don’t Fit In.” It highlights a group of men (and women) captured by wanderlust and the need for adventure. And it serves as a reminder that, often, “It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones” who survive life's struggles:

The Men That Don't Fit In

There's a race of men that don't fit in,

A race that can't stay still;

So they break the hearts of kith and kin,

And they roam the world at will.

They range the field and they rove the flood,

And they climb the mountain's crest;

Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,

And they don't know how to rest.

 

If they just went straight, they might go far;

They are strong and brave and true;

But they're always tired of the things that are,

And they want the strange and new.

They say: "Could I find my proper groove,

What a deep mark I would make!"

So they chop and change, and each fresh move

Is only a fresh mistake.

 

And each forgets, as he strips and runs

With a brilliant, fitful pace,

It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones

Who win in the lifelong race.

And each forgets that his youth has fled,

Forgets that his prime is past,

Till he stands one day, with a hope that's dead,

In the glare of the truth at last.

 

He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;

He has just done things by half.

Life's been a jolly good joke on him,

And now is the time to laugh.

Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;

He was never meant to win;

He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone;

He's a man who won't fit in.

Haunting, don’t you think? 

To learn more about Robert Service and the Klondike Gold Rush, check out: Robert W. Service | The Poetry Foundation and What Was the Klondike Gold Rush? - Klondike Gold Rush National Historical Park (U.S. National Park Service). 

PROMPTS TO INSPIRE YOU, PART THREE, by Max Jason Peterson

With so many tasks, it can sometimes feel challenging to take time to create. For me, participating in creativity sessions with others helps free my brain. Sharing new creations without judgement, and getting to hear others' wonderful works, sparks joy for me. 

I have more prompts for you in this post, but especially since the new workshop season is right around the corner, I'm first sharing the details on the upcoming live workshops.

As I've mentioned, I regularly run micro poetry and prose workshops every spring and fall, newly retitled Max's Writers Cafe. They're free, hosted by Hampton Public Library, and held entirely online. We have five fall sessions coming up (ages 18+, free, but registration is required for each individual session via Eventbrite).

Fall 2025 Eventbrite Collection (You’ll need to register individually for each event you wish to attend)

https://www.eventbrite.com/cc/maxs-writers-cafe-micro-poetry-prose-3651389

Max’s Writers Café: Micro Poetry & Prose

Fall 2025

Every Wednesday from Oct. 29-Nov. 26

Noon-1 PM Eastern

 

Max’s Writers Café: Micro Poetry & Prose, Fall 2025, every Wednesday from Oct. 29-Nov. 26, Noon-1 PM Eastern. Join us via Zoom (free, ages 18+) to make & take tiny poems and flash fiction. Prompts provided by host Max Gardner, award-winning poet & writer. Attendees must register via Eventbrite for each individual session. The theme for Oct. 29 is Micro Horror.

For more details about how this works, and to enjoy more prompts, check out previous blog posts in this series:

Part One

Part Two

We write for ten minutes per prompt, so set a timer and see that if it works for you. For me, having a short, set time gives me focus. I don't expect to finish it during that time, but it can help me get started. Ten minutes also feels like a welcome break, a treat for myself between other tasks—so especially if you're stressed and short on time, you might enjoy a creativity break!

So, here are some more prompts that I've created for your enjoyment! Try making a poem or piece of flash fiction, or even exploring your current protagonist's feelings on any of these subjects (to include in your work in progress, or just for greater depth). You might be surprised by what comes out!

Long Time: Think about time’s duration. What makes time long? Is a long time a good time (or not)? Time separated from someone can be painful, but can make reunion all the sweeter. Long-lasting relationships and connections provide meaning—good or bad. For long-lived beings, time might move at a different pace. Or explore an expression: “It’s been a long time.” “Longtime companion.” “A long time ago.” “A long time coming.” “Long gone.” “Long time, no see.” “Longtimer.” “Long-standing.”

High-scoring tiles: K, J, X, Q, Z: These are the letters that earn 5-10 points in the crossword-style word game Scrabble. Try writing a poem using some of these letters! Bonus points if you write an acrostic, in which the first letter of each line, read vertically, spells something out—using at least one of these letters.

The Shadows: What lurks in this old house, behind this mirror, in the back of your mind? Think about what would scare your character the most if they entered an old house that had clearly seen better days. At night. Alone. Because they heard a distant scream and wanted to help. Alternatively, write a ghost story or something uncanny; the ghost can be positive if you prefer; the story can be happy or touching—or scary or sad.

Motive/Motivation: We all need it: motivation to create or get through things; motivation for our characters to drive the plot. It’s also the “motive” in a mystery. In the moment of acting to save someone (including ourselves), we don’t often have time to stop and think about why. But afterwards the realization can be all-important. Focus on motive or motivation in some way.

Who Was I? Your character wakes up after a long absence from themselves. Maybe they were under a sleep spell for a century, or in a long coma. Maybe they’ve been deep undercover for so long that their prior self seems like a distant memory. Maybe they had amnesia, were possessed, or underwent a magical disguise or body swap that temporarily turned them into someone else. Or maybe they’re recovering from something (physical, mental, or both), or awakening to new revelations about themselves, their life and how to live it. How do they experience who they were then, in the context of who they’ve been recently and/or who they want to be now?

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Under byline Adele Gardner, Max's poetry collection Halloween Hearts is available from Jackanapes Press:

https://www.jackanapespress.com/product/halloween-hearts

Themes of Halloween, horror, Edgar Allan Poe, and Ray Bradbury. The press has seasonal discounts.

Max Jason Peterson has two stories in the new anthology Coastal Crimes 2: Death Takes a Vacation from Wildside Press.

HEADGEAR MAKES HEADLINES by Judy Fowler

 

Sometimes it's not what's in a politician's head but what's on it that makes all the difference, historically speaking. Thanks to author Claire Cock-Starkey's illuminating 2016 article, “Eight World-Famous Historical Hats,” I finally see what's been right before my eyes.

In 1605, Guy Fawkes, the Englishman who fomented the Gunpowder Plot, encouraged his followers to wear the same tall, black sugarloaf-shaped hat that he wore. Aristocrats in feathered Puss in Boots-style hats  expected men of lower rank to remove their hats as a sign of respect. These fops found Fawkes' followers appearing everywhere in big, black hats, which they refused to take off. It worked as provocation. Look, we’re still talking about it.  

Benjamin Franklin's court appearance in Versailles, France in 1776 rocked the entire country. A city boy himself, Franklin entered court sporting a long-tailed furry Frontiersman's cap. His “look” popularized the American cause in ways Franklin's words could not accomplish. French people bought all kinds of touristy trinkets with his  fur-hat portrait printed on them. Although neither Franklin, nor Davy Crockett, born in 1786, could profit personally without international copyright laws, it was just as well: Native Americans designed the originals. But the look caught on, and in 2025 you can still "be" Davy Crockett for a hundred bucks on eBay, or get Walmart's women’s version for $15.

A French person in 1799 could still buy a bicorne hat for the price of fifty small cheeses until Napoleon Bonaparte wore his bicorne in public appearances. Then the price went sky high. Napoleon wore his sideways to make it easy for people to spot him in a crowd. During battle, an added-on  gold band helped troops see him better. The band, Cock-Starkey suggests, caused the hat to resemble an emperor’s crown. Talk about subliminal branding. Bonaparte owned 120 bicornes at his death. One that still carried his DNA brought in $500,000 at a 2018 auction.

Let's fast forward to the 1850s. Why would a 6'4" man choose to add 8 more inches to his height? Abraham Lincoln used his stovepipe hat to store papers and speeches to "fish out" when he needed them. The one he wore the last night of his life is part of a popular display at the Smithsonian. Keep that under your hat in case it makes Trump jealous. Or has it already?

Iconic photos from 1906 show President Teddy Roosevelt  personally digging out the Panama Canal. Poses of TR running a steam shovel or shoveling dirt at the ground-breaking on the Panama Canal don't seem over the top to those of us who've watched a president pretend to know how to drive a garbage truck or shovel fries at McDonald’s. Teddy’s photos got him credit not only for “building” the Panama Canal but also for popularizing “the Panama hat.” The hat in the photos was actually made in Ecuador—there's one on the head of every working stiff in the steam shovel photo. Having the hat on at all may have been a happy accident. I can imagine Roosevelt’s public relations person saying, “Grab one of those guy’s hats before we take the picture—Teddy’s forehead’s all sweaty.”

My annoying AI buddy, Gemini, wants me to add that “the hat’s black band symbolized Roosevelt’s solidarity with the Ecuadorian president, a champion of equality, progress, labor rights, tradition, culture, and sustainability.”

Who needs a PR guy when you've got Gemini? But I get it. Masters of self-promotion understand that hats can be brands and branding is powerful. A picture really is worth a thousand words. My friend Rex, who recently returned from a four-day cruise, brought back a paper “Bermuda hat” made in China. It certainly makes him look like he spent more than a day and a half in Bermuda.

Winston Churchill claimed that his signature homburg hat, first worn in the 1940s, gave photographers something distinguishing to focus on. Apparently, his bland face didn't read as “Here I am over here.” The hat made history, and one from his large collection brought in $11,750 in 1991.

I passed a advertising billboard in Tennessee last month alerting me to the exit for The Trump Megastore. A recent iteration of President Trump’s iconic red ballcap proclaims, “Trump Was Right About Everything.” It will, no doubt,  be sold with other versions of the cap in the megastore.  Why wait to auction off one's memorabilia when, like in Guy Fawkes' scheme, you can get lots of people to wear them right now, right along with you? China can mass-produce cheap knock-offs of the official 'Made in the USA’ hat—before tariffs, they were made for $3 and sold for $14; after tariffs, they're made for $3 and sell for $20.

Hats pay off. Leaders who don caps make history—if not for being right all the time, then for making sure they’re seen.

HOA DRAMA, SHENANIGANS, AND MYSTERY by Sheryl Jordan

 A homeowner’s association (HOA) governs and manages a housing community, setting rules and bylaws (with the assistance of a hired attorney) for its residents. Residents pay fees to cover the cost of amenities and services provided, such as swimming pools, landscaping of common areas, clubhouses, gyms, etc.

My first experience living in a community with an HOA during the late 1980s – early 1990s was relatively uneventful. Everything was organized, and communication of changes and updates was timely, even though it was done by postal mail, or letters and flyers placed on your screen doors.

Two years ago, we purchased a home in a beautiful golf course community. I love living in our community, as most residents are friendly, and I have built close friendships with some of them. Our HOA offers numerous committees for residents to get involved in, as well as activities for children, adults, and families residing here.

After attending several meetings and reading some of the comments in their aftermath, I was prompted to write a fictional mystery short story or novel about the shenanigans and cutthroat drama that occur in a fictitious HOA community.

I began researching HOAs and community posts on various websites. I found there is dissatisfaction with HOAs across the United States. Not just with the HOA, but discord amongst the people living in these types of communities.

I read about instances where arguments between HOA Board members and residents escalated into full-blown fights during meetings, acts of revenge, and sabotage among committee members and neighbors.

Although I won't be sharing many details of my story in progress, rest assured that it will include drama, revenge, and a deceased body or two.

What were your experiences with an HOA or neighborhood you’ve had the pleasure of residing in? Please share your story, good, bad, ugly, or funny.