“A thoroughbred with the soul of a workhorse.” 

That’s what they used to call Ben Tolbert.  He had impeccable manners, was well read, and had never been known to take even a single stroke off his score card when playing a round over at the Fort Stockton Country Club.  Just an upstanding guy.  About the only two things he did that were halfway extravagant were the ’57 Ford Skyliner and the Hamilton Ventura watch, both of which were still in service in 1964.

He’d served his country during The Big One a couple decades earlier, but never talked about it.  Some said it was because what he did was TOP SECRET, others just chalked it up to his overall demeanor.  For years he was known as “The Most Eligible Bachelor in West Texas”, but folks had kind of backed off calling him that because he had never shown even the slightest inclination to marry.

He made a significant amount of money on the Six Flags project he’d pitched in ’57, right after he bought the Skyliner.  He started an investment firm here in town with the proceeds, pretty much a one-man operation till he hired Beverly to answer the phone and do some bookkeeping and filing for him.  He leased an office on the second floor of the Prairie View State Bank once he got big enough to cover the added overhead.  He’d join folks over at the Lucky Lady for a cold beer every now and again, but only ever had one and certainly never stayed late.

In ’62 he’d invested a pretty good sum with a friend of his from Omaha, who was in turn, investing sizable amounts in a textile manufacturing business on the east coast.  It seemed like a good investment for everyone at first, but within a year or two, but by early 1964 it was obvious the investment was not going to be good for the long term.  Early in the year, Tolbert got a call from Omaha.  Beverly put it right through and closed the door to his office.  

“The textile business was a mistake, Ben,” his friend explained.  “I think it’s time to cut the losses.  Stanton has made me an offer to buy back all the shares we’ve purchased at $11 1/2 per share.  I wanted to run it by you and see what you thought before I pulled the trigger.”

Tolbert pulled a yellow legal pad out of the belly drawer of his oak desk and did some quick calculations.  “Give me a minute,” he said as he thought about the transaction.  “How’s the family?”  His friend filled Tolbert in on his wife and three kids and what was going on in Omaha while Peters put his pen down and pondered the numbers.  “Make the sale.  There’s better places where we can put the cash.  Send me a check for my part after the deal closes and we’ll figure out where to go from there.”  Pleasantries were exchanged and he hung up the heavy black handleset of the black Bell phone in its cradle.

He called out to Beverly to open his door.  When she did, he said, “Be on the lookout for a check in the mail in the next week or two.  It’ll be significant.  Make sure you get it deposited as soon as it arrives.”

She nodded, looked out the window and saw his red and white Skyliner parked down below.  Tolbert kept the car in good condition, but nothing stops the West Texas sun from doing what it does, especially to Flame Red lacquer.  The seats were just a bit frayed.  There was a dent that Mrs. Walraven’s Mercury Colony Park wagon had left in the right rear quarter panel that he still hadn’t fixed yet.

“You know, Mr. Tolbert,” Beverly began.  Tolbert knew to listen carefully to what would follow.  He would initially not like it, but soon find her to be right, no matter what the statement usually was.  “You might want to take just a bit of that cash and put it in a new automobile.”

Tolbert glanced out the window.  “Get serious!” he shot back.  “The Ford doesn’t even have 50,000 miles on it.  That’s ridiculous.”

“Sometimes it’s the age, not the mileage,” she replied in a smooth, steady voice.  “You make investments.  You take people’s hard earned money and put it places where it will be turned into more, harder working money.  If you want people to continue to give you their money to invest, you need to look like you are successful in doing so.”  He looked out the window again.  “And when was the last time you’ve put that steel top down, anyway?  The novelty wore off when it was a year old.”

As always, every point of her argument was valid.  That’s why every Christmas bonus he gave her was in stock.  He nodded and grumbled and wrinkled his brow which, experience had taught Beverly, meant a win.  She figured there would be a new car outside the window within a week.

That night, when Tolbert got off work, he picked up Lucinda.  He put the top down on the Skyliner before they set off from her place over on Lubbock Street.  It seemed to be going down a good bit more slowly than the last time he’d lowered it.  “Beverly thinks it’s time for a new car,” he said as he pulled away from the curb.

“You know Beverly is usually right,” Lucinda replied.

The next day Tolbert made the rounds of dealerships in Fort Stockton, taking Lucinda with him for advice.  Frontier Ford, “Home of the Straight Shootin’ Deal”, was the first stop because he’d always bought Fords.  He looked at a new Thunderbird convertible.  Bright red.  White top.  “What do you think?”

Lucinda stood back in order to get the full picture.  “I think this is a handsome car.”  Tolbert smiled.  “And I think you are a handsome man.”  Tolbert smiled even bigger.  “And I think between the two of you, there’s just too much handsome.”  His smile faded. “Too flashy.  It’s just not you.  Makes you look more like a private investigator specializing in bitter divorces than someone who makes top notch investments.”

They got back in the Sunliner and headed over to Buckboard Buick/GMC/International Harvester.  Right there smack dab in the middle of the showroom was a brand new Buick Riviera.  Bronze.  “Newest thing out of Flint,” the salesman explained, a moist cigar dangling from his lips.  “Ford won’t sell another Thunderbird once everybody gets a look at this beauty!”

Tolbert was put off by the salesman’s pitch.  Lucinda was put off by the way he kept ogling her when Tolbert wasn’t looking.  “What do you think, little lady?” he asked her.

“I liked the Thunderbird better,” she said as she turned and walked away.

“Let’s head out.  I need to stop by the office and check in with Beverly.  Make sure everything is okay,” Tolbert told her once they were seated firmly back in the Skyliner.  “After that, we’ll stop for some lunch and see what Cactus Chrysler/Plymouth has to offer.”

Beverly was in a dither when he got there.  “Omaha called!” she said.  “Wants you to call him back as soon as possible.  Something about the textile company’s offer.”

“Get him on the phone,” Tolbert said as he sat down behind the desk.  “Lucinda, this may take a moment.”

“I’m off today,” Lucinda said.  “I’ve got nothing but time.”  She took a seat across the desk from Tolbert and slowly crossed her legs, appreciating the fact that she could distract him, if only momentarily.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Tolbert said into the phone.  Lucinda caught bits and pieces of the conversation.  enough to know that Tolbert was mad, and it took a lot to make him mad.

Apparently when the actual written offer for the stock buyback was received, the offer that had been made verbally of $11 1/2 had been changed to $11 3/8.  Lucinda couldn’t make out the other details.  She noted that Tolbert’s voice never rose, but he was very clear and factual in exactly what he told his associate in Omaha he thought should be done.

“Here’s what we do.  Don’t sell the stock.  Keep it.  Buy even more of it.  Take controlling interest in the damn company and then fire the S.O.B that couldn’t even keep his word.  Not sure who he thought he was dealing with here, but a man whose word is no better than that needs to find himself out on the street.  We’ll take it over and run it with some integrity!” Tolbert said.

A few more sentences were exchanged. Tolbert hung up the phone and looked at Lucinda.  “Sorry for the delay.  Let’s have lunch.”

They drove by Cactus Chrysler on the way to K-Bobs.  Tolbert took a look at the Chrysler 300 sitting on the dais on the corner and just shook his head.  “What in the world have they done to the Letter-Car?” he murmured.  “Not even an option.”

Lucinda could sense he was distracted as they had their meal.  “You know,” she said.  “I know you want to give all the dealerships a chance and support Fort Stockton.  But let’s be honest.  The Grand Prix you’re going to look at is just a Catalina with a bigger engine and more chrome.”  Tolbert looked up from his ribeye and wondered how he’d surrounded himself with such attractive, knowledgeable women.

“What do you propose?”

“Stay with me here,” she said.  “Let’s go to Abilene.  There’s a Studebaker dealership there.  Take a look at the new Avanti.  I’ve seen pictures of it.  It looks like the future on wheels.  It’ll be late after that.  Maybe get a place for the night.”

Tolbert wasn’t sure which of the two propositions intrigued him more, but they headed north as soon as dessert was finished, and didn’t stop till they pulled into Hometown Motor Sales tucked in an old brick building in the heart of Abilene.  Tolbert chuckled at the irony of driving so far to go to Hometown Motors.  Lucinda found the turquoise Avanti before the salesman found them.  “Like nothing else on the road, just like I said,” she pointed out.  But Tolbert wasn’t paying a lick of attention.  He was headed to the back of the showroom.

“A Gran Turismo Hawk,” he said.  I remember when the first Speedster came out.  It was ten years ahead of its time.  This one looks a lot like it, but updated and modern.”

“Not only that, it’s the R2,” the salesman said, who’d come out of nowhere.  “Supercharged.  There’s only a handful of these that were made, this is one of the last ones.  Probably the only one in this color.”

“Came here to look at an Avanti,” Tolbert explained while Lucinda wandered over.

“And I’ll be happy to show you one.  A fine car, as well.  The best there is of the future.”  He patted the hood of the Hawk.  “This is the best there is of the past.  Studebaker is at a crossroads.  It’s up to you to choose your own path.”

“How does each one compare to a Thunderbird?” Lucinda asked the salesman, as though it was a test.

“Ma’am,” the salesman said.  “Folks don’t come into our showroom to compare either of these to a Thunderbird.  I’m sure a Thunderbird is a fine car.  Folks come here to see which of these two statements they would like to make, knowing neither one could possibly be a bad choice.  Offerings from other manufacturers are simply irrelevant.”

Lucinda loved the pitch.  Ben Tolbert loved the Raven Green Hawk, and the idea of choosing his own path.  He always had.  He opened the door and slid in behind the two spoke wheel with the hand horn rim and admired how the cockpit seemed to surround him.  “What do you think?” he asked Lucinda, standing just outside the driver’s door.  

“Just the right amount of handsome,” Lucinda said.  “I think it’s fitting you get one of the last ones.  You’re one of the last ones of your kind, as well.”

The deal was done with a handshake, trading in the Skyliner.  “We’ll pick it up in the morning.  You can call Prairie View State Bank in Fort Stockton to verify the funds, if you’d like,” Tolbert told the salesman.

“No need.  I trust you,” the salesman said.  “We open at 8:00 in the morning.  The Hawk will be ready by 9:30.  The Hotel Grace is just a block away if you’d like a lift.”

Tolbert looked at the sky.  “We’ll walk,” he said.  Twenty minutes later they were at the front desk checking in.  “Two rooms please.  The nicest suites you have.”  He glanced at Lucinda who could not hide her disappointment.  “And make sure they adjoin.”

Tolbert made three key financial decisions, all in one afternoon and evening that cool January day in early 1964.  The first one established Berkshire Hathaway, highlighting his commitment to doing business with integrity and honor.  The second one put a 1964 Studebaker Gran Truismo Hawk R2 in his driveway because of his preference for tradition and history and an appreciation for Horizon Green.  The last one transferred to Lucinda full ownership of the Grounds for Divorce.  

That was just out of sheer gratitude.