Ben Tolbert was a man of exceptional taste in 1957.  Imagine Don Draper, but with morals.  Don’t confuse exceptional with ridiculously expensive.  Anyone with boatloads of money can buy the finest products available and come across as refined.  Ben’s secret was taking the relatively mundane and making it look damn good.  “If you can’t look good wearing a Rolex and driving an Eldorado, then the gods have not shined on you.  It’s why you can impress with far less that the gods have lifted you on their shoulders and carried you into the arena.

“A true gentleman,” is how most described him when asked.  “The type of guy you’d want in the foxhole with you,” is how many of his business associates described him.  They didn’t even know his history of foxholes and the number of comrades he’d saved and served with a dozen years earlier.  Those days were long gone, Tolbert thought, no point in dredging them up now.  Certainly not to gain accolades at this point.  Those who didn’t make it back deserved all the accolades.

He had buddies from those days that would look him up when they came through Fort Stockton.  He’d always make it a point to meet them and buy them a drink or two at the Lucky Lady, and introduce them to friends if there was time.  He was always put off by the fact that every story they ever told featured themselves as the hero, everyone else just minor characters in the yarns they spun.  There seemed to be no end to their exploits with women,  or heroic deeds they’d performed in the past.  Those that had taken place when Tolbert was there to actually witness them somehow had been twisted and embellished to make them seem like something they weren’t.  When Hank, the bartender, would ask Tolbert about it later, he’d laugh it off.  “Don’t hold it against them,” he’d say.  “Some guys just need the attention.  They’d climb a tree to sell a tale that’s not true when they could stay on the ground with the actual facts and make an even better point.”  That was just how Tolbert looked at it.

When it was time for a new car, Tolbert went to Frontier Ford, “Home of the Straight Shooting’ Deal”, just like he always did.  He’d been a Ford man because his dad had been one, and his dad before that.  But because of Tolbert’s affinity for style, he special ordered a new Ford Fairlane 500 Skyliner, brand new for the 1957 model year.  Two toned Flame Red and Colonial White.  Same scheme on the interior. “It’s the first year for this model,” his salesman told him when they were ordering the car.  And that’s a complicated system that operates the top.  You sure you don’t want to go with the conventional Sunliner model and just fold the cloth top down when you want to enjoy the convertible feature?”

Tolbert just chuckled.  “Ford wouldn’t offer it if they couldn’t stand behind it.  It’ll be fine.  And different from everything else on the road.  Exclusive, yet within the reach of anyone with an imagination and an average budget.”  When Tolbert made his mind up, there was no changing it, so the deal was finished.  “I have to be sure it gets here by early May,” he said as they shook hands.  “I need to head up to Dallas on business and I want to take the new car.  See what it can do on the open road.  Get that Hide-Away-Hardtop down before it gets too hot to enjoy.”

When he got the call that the convertible had arrived and was being made ready for him to pick up, he had a day to spare before the trip.  When he got to the dealership, there were no disappointments.  The only thing he feared was the car losing that ‘new car smell’ too soon because of all the time on the road with the top retracted.  He swung by The Grounds for Divorce and waited for Lucinda to close up shop so he could take her for the inaugural ride out in the country to show off the new Skyliner.

Tolbert kept both hands on the wheel, at the 10 and 2 positions, while getting the 312 cubic inch V8 up to full speed on the blacktop heading west. Lucinda was somewhat taken aback at his lack of aggressiveness, but in Tolbert’s mind the hero of the story always shows restraint and is rewarded later for his discretion. The sun setting through the windshield of a Skyliner with Fort Stockton getting smaller in the rearview mirror was a scene worthy of a brand new car loaded with the latest technology. Lucinda fought the temptation to unbuckle the red seatbelt he’d had installed at the factory and slide over next to him, a restraint normally never engaged by a woman of such passions.

Turning around at the rest stop twenty miles outside town, Tolbert slid the Ford-O-Matic into park and pushed the button that raised the huge steel top and locked it in place.  Just when Lucinda thought she couldn’t be any more impressed, Tolbert found a way to surprise her.  Well, Tolbert and the Ford Motor Company.

Dinner and drinks flew by.  Lucinda had high hopes for an extended evening, but was disappointed when Tolbert walked her up to the door and made it obvious there would be nothing more than a goodnight kiss on the forehead.  “I’ve got an early morning,” he told her.  “I’ll be on the road at sunup.  I need to be in Austin by noon.”  Her disappointment was apparent.  

“There’s another side of you I’m waiting to explore,” she told him.  

Tolbert gave her a hug and a chuckle, neither dashing her hopes, nor feeding her desires.  “I’ll call you when I get back.”  And with that he turned back towards the Skyliner and headed back to his place at the Pecos Arms and bedded down for the evening after walking Sparky, his Golden Retriever.

The next morning he dropped Sparky off at a neighbor’s, swung by the Dairy Twin for a hot black Folgers and pointed the Skyliner’s hooded headlights east towards Austin.

He pondered on the way whether he should have checked off the box for power windows. Then, sipping his Folgers and feeling the wind blow through his hair and the warm sunshine on his face, decided he’d made the right choice. “Power windows are for the fairer sex,” he thought. “Real men raise and lower them with the same hand they defended the country with. Freedom is not won by button-pushers.” He was in Austin by 11:45, pulling into Haltom’s Jewelers by noon straight up, just as he’d told the salesman he would be.

“I’m here for the Hamilton Ventura,” Tolbert said as he walked into the glittering store.

“I saw the car pull into the parking lot and thought that’d be you,” the salesman replied. “The type of man that buys one of the first Hamilton Venturas is the same type of gentleman that would buy a Ford Skyliner. Step right over here, I have it boxed up and waiting.”

Tolbert followed him to the glass counter and watched him open the box and pull out the watch.  “Designed by Richard Arbib, the renowned American industrial designer without regard to practicality, only pure design and innovation.  Just like your Skyliner.”  He pulled the watch out of the box and handed it to Tolbert.  Tolbert took it from him and looked at it closely, turning it around to see it from several different angles.  The design was incredible, like nothing else that had ever been worn as a timepiece.

“Just like the pictures.  Only better,” Tolbert told him.

“Very first watch in the world to run on a battery,” the salesman reminded him.  “Elvis wears one, and he’s certainly an innovator.  This will become an icon of the times.”  Tolbert smiled and slid the gold and leather chronometer onto his wrist.

“Perfect,” he said. Tolbert handed the salesman his Diners’ Club card, the first credit card of its kind. When he returned with the receipt, Toblert glanced out the window and saw a man who looked like he’d seen hard times and was down on his luck. He took a twenty out of his leather Prince Gardner wallet, put it with his old Omega watch and handed both to the salesman. I’ve got to run. I need to be in Dallas by nightfall. Take the watch and this twenty out to the gentleman on the street. Tell him to take the watch as a gift, and use the twenty for a shave, a haircut, a shoeshine, and a hot meal. Tell him things will get better. The watch and cash are a start.” He headed out to the Skyliner, giving the guy on the corner a nod as he passed. Four hours later he was checking into the Holiday Lodge in downtown Dallas, the Ford buttoned up for the night in front of his room.

The next morning he got up and dressed for services at Munger Place Church on Bryan Street, then came back to the motel for a swim and then back to the room.  He unplugged the TV, so as not to be tempted with distraction, checked the time on the Hamilton Ventura, and then cleared everything off the small table in the corner of his room to be able to work on the presentation.

The drawings were all top notch.  He looked through the cards he was going to use, but knew the information well enough that he left them in the glove compartment of the Ford the following morning when he arrived for the meeting.

Monday morning he left the top up on the Skyliner, in case any of the other participants saw him arrive.  He didn’t want the showiness to outshine the innovation.  If the meeting went well, he’d lower the top where everyone could see it as he left the appointment that afternoon.  He hiked up the cuff on his Brooks Brothers shirt and jacket, leaving the Ventura subtly exposed.  He checked out of the Holiday Lodge and headed down Stemmons Freeway for the meeting.

Pulling up in front of the Meadows Building, he pulled right into a spot out front, as though it had been left open for him, right in between a Continental Mark II and a Cadillac Biarritz.  Looking through the panoramic windshield of the Ford, he noticed a group of men gathering at the window.  He recognized one of them, and decided to roll the dice.  He reached down and flipped the switch activating the top, lowering into place and sealing the deck lid back again.  Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced towards the window.  The Skyliner show had just the effect he’d hoped.

Four minutes later he was in the room, shaking hands, making introductions, setting up the slide projector.  Twenty minutes after that, Tolbert was showing them the future.  Texas History.  Family Entertainment.  All in one.  Right in the heart of the Lone Star State.  By then they’d all noticed the Hamilton Ventura on his wrist.  They’d already witnessed the newest thing in Detroit innovation and modern time keeping.  They were primed for his presentation.

“Gentlemen, Texas is the future.  It’s time to invest in it.  Disney has proven there’s a market for this.  There’s no need to make folks drive all the way to California when they can stay right here and spend their money.  Lots of money.”  Tolbert flipped through color slides showing what could be accomplished right in the heart of Dallas / Fort Worth with enough vision.  And cash.

“This, gentleman,” he said, “is Six Flags Over Texas. The fun and innovation of Disneyland at a fraction of the cost. The difference between the Ford Skyliner out that window and the Continental Mark II it’s parked next to.” He was sure to point out the window with the hand wearing the Hamilton Ventura.