For those of you who don’t know….the Log Cabin, featured here and showcased at the party was the building that housed my Mom and Dad’s business and was our playground while growing up. It was one of 4 buildings that made up The Vandercar’s Log Cabin Service Station and Market. The Cabin or “station,” as most people called it, was the main building and was the gas station part of the business. Attached to the cabin was an old one room schoolhouse that had been moved to our property and it was the “grocery” part of the business. On either side of these buildings was a garage for working on cars and a fruit stand for the fruit and vegetables my dad sold every summer.Even tho it took me a long time to realize it, the Log Cabin and all it stood for is one of the main reasons I roam the backroads looking for the “sense of place” in old worn out buildings, gas stations, diners and motels. I know what history our buildings held…and when I pass by a closed, boarded up old building…I can close my eyes and imagine similar histories…it’s like the past whispering to me…something happened here…it’s pure Americana to me.
And Americana it was. My Mom and Dad were the proverbial mom and pop shop owners, back in the day when mom and pop places were where everyone shopped. Where you got gas on credit…and I don’t mean on your credit card. Where my dad or one of his kids, pumped your gas and washed your windshield. Where a community met for a bottle of pop and a card game. Where the fruit was so fresh you’d wait in line to pick it up on “fruit nights”
So, hopefully this explains and excuses some of my quirkiness and at times extreme obession for nostalgia. Those of you who shopped there know where I’m coming from.
So the cabin.
As far as I can gather, the Log Cabin was built by several men, including my Dad’s uncles, as a place for Grandpa Tilton to sell produce.
(Oldest picture of the cabin we have. These kids are Don Tilton's brother and sister).It changed owners a few times and my Dad eventually bought the business.
He sold gas, cigarettes, candy, pop, gum, and later groceries and produce. He did small repairs such as tires, etc. One of the busiest times would be the summer, as every Tuesday and Friday he would make a trip to Benton Harbor Michigan and return with a truckload of fresh and frozen produce. Customers would place their orders in advance and would line the road on “fruit nights” to pick up their peaches, strawberries and apples.
(Janet in front of the fruit stand)Each of us kids learned to pump gas, run the cash register and stock the shelves (greenbeans, yeah!). But I’m pretty sure, at least for me, our main job was to eat up all the profits in penny candy and to provide amusement for the slew of regulars that passed thru the station doors.
My Mom and Dad operated the business for over 30 years and Dad retired in 1976.
Both Dave and Doug Vandercar spent some time running the station after Dad…as well as a few others.
But for more than two decades it sat closed…whispering to those that passed by that “something happened here.”
In 2003, my family faced the overwhelming task of getting Mom and Dad’s house ready for sale. We had an auction and sold the house with the understanding that the buildings would be removed by the following May. My nephew, Jeremy was determined to see the cabin remain standing and several plans were made…everything from having it moved by a professional, to labeling it, dismantling it and putting it back together. I remember one winter night when we found out the cost of having a mover move it and everyone agreed it might not happen. As I looked at Jeremy and his long face, my heart sank with the thought of having to watch the station being torn down. But before long, my brothers, Jeremy and Jerry and others were huddled around Dave and Sandy’s counter discussing different ways to “gitter done” on their own.
They became my heroes…and “gitter done” they did!
After a weeks of back breaking swinging of sledge hammers and handiwork with tractors, jacks and lots of muscle, the cabin was sitting on top of a flatbed trailer ready to make it’s move.
At the crack of dawn on one misty may morning, the cabin, with a police escort, rolled away from its original home and took a drive down Rt.2, under I-65, and turned the corner to its new home at the farm where Jeremy lives.
Over the next 2 summers it got a new roof, new porch, new ceiling and a new floor, lights and new décor and was ready for its reopening at Dad’s 85th birthday party.
It was great seeing friends and family in the cabin and on the porch, sharing their memories and stories about the "good ole days." Apparently, I'm not the only one that is nostalgic and hears old buildings whispering memories!
I give a huge “THANK YOU” to my family and especially to the Hayden’s for keeping this heirloom and “sense of place” on family property.
Directions to here: Get in the car, get on the back road, look for a scene with a "sense of place," close your eyes and hear the screen door slam shut, the bottle cap drop in the holder, the cash register ring, the cards shuffle and the old men laugh, smell the strawberries and smile at the lady behind the counter and the kid who's hiding behind her skirt and looking up at you. Who says you can't go home again?
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