Ford, past and future

FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. — Henry Ford said, "I will build a car for the great multitude."

Did he ever.

The car was the Tin Lizzie, the flivver, the legendary Ford Model T, and it revolutionized America, overturning its rural culture, upending labor and marketing philosophies, sparking the growth of roads and bridges and shifting industry into overdrive with the use of the assembly line.

Wednesday marked 100 years since the first Model T hit the street. From 1908 through 1927, more than 15 million of the affordable Ts were built; by 1921 they accounted for more than half the cars in the world.

"It pretty much put America on wheels," says Steve Florence of Boynton Beach, Fla., president of Sunny T's of South Florida Model T club.

Florence and a half-dozen club members celebrated the car's centennial by driving Model Ts and other horseless carriages from West Palm Beach to Cocoa Beach, a 135-mile jaunt, at 25 to 35 mph.

Sylvio Cote of Fort Lauderdale, Fla., has a connection to the iconic auto that dates to 1926, when he was photographed as a 3-year-old sitting on the running board of a new Model T coupe. Cote, 85, still has the photo — and a coupe of the same model and year depicted.

The Canadian transplant also has a rare 1915 coupelet, or convertible, which he takes on trips around the region. Like most T drivers, Cote sticks to back roads when possible and, though the car can hit 45 mph, keeps the throttle at about 30 mph for safety reasons.

"You can't stop them that readily," he cautions. "Other than that, the cars run very well."

A retired machinist and engineer, Cote has been messing with Model T's for four decades, having restored at least 20. He's forged a reputation as a skilled Model T mechanic.

"I enjoy just about as much working on them as when I'm finished," he says.

For aficionados, the allure of the Tin Lizzie — Lizzie being an old-time term for a dependable servant — is its beguiling unpretentiousness.

"I just love the T's, they are so simple," says Dick Gibbs of Plantation, Fla., who owns two. "Baling wire, chewing gum and a pair of pliers and you can fix anything."

Ford set out to create an easy-to-maintain car for the masses and, defying the prevailing thinking of the time, aimed for high-volume sales through low price. The first cars cost $850; by 1925, the price had dropped to $260.

The result was almost everyone could afford one. It reordered the largely rural nature of America. Farmers abandoned the mule and used the Model T as a tractor and all-around workhorse. They adapted its 20-horsepower engine to run mills, pumps, whatever was needed.

In an age when most people lived and died within 20 miles of their birthplace, the Model T allowed folks to travel "in God's great open places," as Ford put it. Though there were few roads — the prevalence of Ford's universal car would eventually rectify that — the Model T was expressly designed to navigate over rocks and ruts.

With the invention of the improved assembly line in 1913, Ford created a new template for American industry — and built Model T's at the rate of one every 90 minutes instead of the 12 hours it previously took. He also created an eight-hour shift, allowing his factories to run three shifts a day, and paid workers the unprecedented sum of $5 a day, a princely wage in a time when many people made less in a week. That helped spur the growth of the middle class.

When increasing competition forced Ford to halt Model T production in 1927, more than 15 million had been sold. Robert Casey, a curator at the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Mich., says no one really knows how many T's are still out there — he estimates anywhere between 100,000 and just under a million.

Typically costing $20,000 to $30,000, Model Ts aren't as expensive as other antique cars.

Gibbs' two include a 1913 depot hack, a wooden-sided taxicab for train stations. The 76-year-old bought his first Model T (price: $70) in the '50s as a college student. Now, he delights neighbors when he tools around.

"Everybody loves their sense of nostalgia," he says.

Cote stirs a similar reaction in his coupelet. "People give thumbs up, or clap or smile," he says. "They're all happy to see it."