Small Town Chronicles: The Car Hop Girls 1956-1966

Memory is an unreliable narrator, but it offers vivid details: the savory taste of onion rings, calm July nights, and a cold mug of root beer. There’s a lesson in the way small towns collect and keep their memories. Even as buildings crumble and new ones rise in their place, the stories we shared linger on. They find a new life in conversations, in the objects we collected, and in the retelling of a thousand little moments that made us, in some small way, who we are. With a single brick from the site of the old A&W in my hands, I found myself standing at the crossroads of nostalgia and change. In the days that followed, conversations with old and new friends unfurled into an impromptu oral history, each voice adding a splash of color to the mural of our collective past.

Here are stories from A&W Car Hop Girls:

Sandra Stricker Dougherty
1956 -1958

Sandy clarified details from my last column: I previously reported that the first owner was a man named Tucker, based on information from a school alumni Facebook page. However, after further discussion with Don and Sandy, this may be incorrect. Both recall the original owners of the Imlay A&W Car Hop were likely of Polish or Yugoslav descent, aligning with other sources.

In my prior column, I mentioned that Don and Joan Capman purchased the building and the franchise license from a Capac proprietor, the second owner, in 1965. I was uncertain whether the car hop existed before 1962 due to a lack of recollections predating that year. However, after speaking with former car hop Kathy McGathy, she recalled her mother, Jeannette Louwsma, bringing home root beer for her and her siblings when she worked at International Harvester in Joe Shull’s building, which was next door. This fits a timeline from the mid-1950s – providing an initial lead.

Later, upon reviewing my social media history page, I encountered a significant breakthrough when Sandy Dougherty responded to an inquiry about wages at A&W, stating: “I worked there for 40 cents an hour in 1956. I walked the whole time carrying heavy trays.” This confirmation was a “eureka” moment for me. After several attempts to connect, Sandy and I engaged in a detailed discussion during which she verified that she was employed the year the business opened. She also mentioned that the owners spoke with a pronounced Eastern European accent and commuted from Mt. Clemens rather than residing within the community. Sandy recalled the owners would speak in their native tongue when they didn’t want their workers or customers to know what they were saying. I asked Sandy if they were displaced from their native country following WW2 or because of the post war communist movement in Eastern Europe? I am not sure we will ever know as Sandy said they really didn’t talk about their background or experiences. We do know they didn’t socialize much and basically commuted from Mt. Clemens and opened the root beer stand in 1956 when Sandy was a 16-year-old sophomore at Imlay City High School. The language barrier probably accounts for the lack of early documentation of the A&W from 1956-1965. So, to learn anything from that time period we must rely on Car Hop Girls like Sandy.

Sandy Stricker was all too happy to apply for and accept a job as a Car Hop in 1956, as the 40 cent an hour plus tips was a significant increase from her 25 cent an hour babysitting job for Attorney Jim Morrice and his wife Vera.

Sandy said the owners were nice and had a niece who failed miserably at being a car hop as she couldn’t make change. Sandy laughed when she recounted that customers were often given more money back than what their bill was. Fortunately people were honest and helped her out. Eventually the niece was moved to a cooking station. The system was a little different, Sandy explained, as a car hop you would pay for the food before taking it out to the customer, then when you delivered the food, you collected from the customer. The owner started her out with five dollars in her “till” at the beginning of her shift, which she kept in a waist apron, to make change. If you broke one of the signature heavy glass mugs, it came out of your five dollars. It was a tough job but good money in those days according to Sandy.

She worked there during the day and at night worked at Deluxe Movie Theater on Almont Avenue for 50 cents an hour. When asked if she used her earnings for anything special, Sandy said, “I used it for gas money. It was about 50 cents a gallon and you could get around anywhere on a full tank.”

I asked if she saved her tips for clothes or activities. “Well, my Mom had Lupus and most people back then didn’t have health insurance, so my money went to paying for Mom’s doctor bills.”

It was a poignant moment in our conversation. I couldn’t help but feel empathy for that 16-year-old child working two jobs so medical bills were paid and Mom could continue her care. I wanted to reach through the phone and give her a hug. Sandy recounted these memories casually, reminding me that her generation faced real hardships beyond popular trends. Despite my hesitation, I asked about the car hop stereotype: “No, I didn’t wear roller skates – the gravel driveway made that impossible, and Joe Shull would never pave it. We wore slacks and nice blouses instead of poodle skirts because of the dust.”

Sandy worked two years at the A&W and after graduating from Imlay City High School in 1958 she took a job at Jule Dean’s Drugstore on Third Street. “Doing everything” Her wages jumped up to an $1.00 an hour. There she met a cute young delivery driver who delivered Pepsi Cola to the store. He was from Lapeer, his dad was the police chief and he seemed like a nice fellow. Sandy joked she drank a lot of Pepsi after meeting him, so Mr. Dean had to double his Pepsi deliveries. His name was Larry. They got married in 1963 and had three children, Denise, Matt, and Melissa. Larry moved up in the work force as well, becoming Imlay City’s Police Chief. Sandy later worked for the Imlay City School District. She was there for 20 years before retiring in 1997.

Sadly, Larry lost his courageous fight against cancer in 2006. Together they created a legacy that includes seven grandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren. Today, Sandy volunteers at a thrift store that offers a food pantry and community service. She currently resides in North Branch.

Cris Cowell Timmer
1965-1997

Cris is well known in various roles: as the founder of Timmers Maryland Fried Chicken, co-owner of Cappy’s Diner, and earlier as a teenage car hop at the A&W. She began working for Don Capman at age 15 after her freshman year at Imlay City High School and was one of his first hires. Cris recalled the busy car hop, as cars constantly cruised through, sometimes when the parking spaces were full, the drivers continued to downtown making the “loop” on Fourth St. to Almont Ave. to Third Street then back to M53. Cris explained when she first started, they didn’t have car speakers yet. Orders were taken by hand and food served on trays attached to car windows. Occasionally, mugs would go missing as keepsakes, but the drive-in kept plenty in stock. Don was fairly good about overlooking that, Cris said, except if it was a known repeat offender. Tehen a gentle reminder to please leave all mugs and trash on the tray. When the customer was done, they would turn on their headlights and the car hop, always young teen girls, would come out and clear the tray away. Making around 50-75 cents an hour in those days, the girls depended on tips for spending money. Cris recalled using some of her tip money at the old Brownite Store on Third St. “I remember shopping at the store for Levi cut offs in teal color and bulky socks. We were so cool!”

In the mid-1960s, M21 was the main route for Canadian visitors traveling through Michigan or to Port Austin, before I69 was expanded 30 years later. Due to many Canadian customers, Cris and other carhops learned to convert Canadian money to US dollars and make change. Even after 60 years, Cris still remembers the math. Her sisters, Karon, and Jean Cowell, also worked at A&W, making coney dogs that sold for 15 cents on Tuesdays.

In the 1960s, Cris and her sisters worked with friends and classmates such as Nancy Hillman Frazzini, Kathy Louwsma McGathy, Karen Rider, and Marcia and Margaret Madeline. I’ll cover Cris’s 1970s A&W years later: for now, here’s the story of the 1966 car hop girls.

Marcia and Margaret Madeline, Karen Rider, Nancy Hillman, Kathy Louwsma
1965-1966

Like Cris, Marcia was hired in 1965, which was the first year the Capmans owned the business. Marcia, a well-liked 1965 graduate with a popular bobbed haircut, soon bought an aqua blue Ford Falcon with her savings and often acted as her friends’ chauffeur giving them rides to work or activities. In spring 1966, A&W reopened with new hires including Marcia’s sister Margaret, Kathy Louwsma, Karen Rider, and Marcia’s best friend Nancy Hillman, all of whom knew each other from school clubs like Future Homemakers and Choir. As warm weather arrived, the A&W became a social hub for students. Schedules were organized, with veterans offering tips to newcomers. Graduation was being planned, local dances took place, and teen-arranged trips to family cabins were discussed. Balancing work and leisure was a new experience, as most had only babysat siblings or worked on family farms before.

Like many teens, they enjoyed the Beatles, Elvis, and watched American Bandstand. Nancy remembered performing as Gypsy Rose Lee in the school talent show where friends also impersonated the Beatles. Marcia and Nancy often drove friends to the weekly dances at the Legion Hall. Pat Hunter Arnaud noted that everyone seemed to know each other, and who gave rides depended on who was available. Margaret and Karen were friends as well as classmates. Karen was described as very friendly to all and uninterested in cliques.

Karen Rider was the eldest of five and lived on Van Dyke Road at the Imlay/Almont township border. A sandy-brown haired 15-year-old who lit up a room when she entered it, she had a knack to making all feel welcomed and safe. She thrived in her first job as a car hop, enjoying both the work and newfound independence. A little teen rebellion but nothing major, just minor teen rituals. Nancy Zuhlke Dutcher remembers when she and Karen tried out smoking for the first time. They went down to Webster Cemetery, which wasn’t far from the Rider home, sat down and leaned against a headstone and lit up. It did not go very well—a failed experiment that didn’t lead to a habit. Nancy also recalled many summers berry picking at Grandpa Rider’s farm and described Karen as fun-loving and daring. They often spent the night at each other’s homes as teen girls do. Once shy, Kathy Louwsma became close friends with Karen, whose outgoing personality led to many sleepovers at the Riders’ home. Kathy noted that Karen had a special talent for making her friends feel valued. They shared many classes together including Home-Ec. They didn’t particularly enjoy Home Economics, but their friendship made the class bearable and their freshman year enjoyable.

The Madeline sisters lived in Attica, with six older brothers which made their home extremely popular with their female friends. As Hillman-Frazzini chuckled in remembrance “The Madeline family was great to all of us. It didn’t hurt the boys liked us there too!” Marcia was the more “settled” of the two sisters, Arnaud recalled, where Margaret was more “bubbly and boy crazy” like all the girls her age were. Marcia was four years older than Margaret and their mannerism reflected the age difference. Pat said Margaret wouldn’t hesitate to hitch a ride to a dance with a carload of teens, whereas Marcia would be the responsible driver making sure everyone had permission from their folks.

On Friday the 27th of May, the school was buzzed with teens discussing their plans for Friday night and the Memorial Day Weekend. Charlotte Thompson Berryman sat patiently in English class waiting for the bell to ring. It was the last class of the day. Karen Rider sat behind her near the front window. After the dismissal bell rang, they told each other to have a fun weekend. Karen had to work that night. She would be closing with Marcia Madeline, who had offered to give her a ride home from work. She put her books away and wished other classmates a great weekend.

Marcia and Nancy Hillman planned to visit Nancy’s parents’ cabin up north after work. Since Nancy needed to pack, she drove separately instead of carpooling with Marcia, as they usually alternated driving.

Margaret was not scheduled to work that Friday, so she made plans to go to the dance at the American Legion, down the road from the A&W. She would catch a ride home with Marcia and Karen afterward. She hurried to put her books away and get a start on her fun filled Friday.

Friday evening unfolded with the usual flurry of activity as teens filtered in and out, laughter mingling with the sizzle of burgers and the clink of mugs. The warm spring air carried the scent of fresh-cut grass and anticipation -school was nearly out, and the Memorial Day weekend promised freedom and adventure. Inside the A&W, the camaraderie among the carhops helped one another juggle the rush of customers eager for root beer floats and coney dogs.

Between orders, the girls chatted about dances, road trips and budding romances. Balancing new responsibilities with the fun of youth, they worked to the soundtrack of passing cars, their camaraderie making even hectic shifts enjoyable.

As twilight deepened, the hum of the drive-in continued. The regulars ordered their favorites and the girls-Cris, Karen, Marcia, Kathy, Nancy – moved with practiced ease. It was a night much like any other, except it would linger in the hearts of all who were there, suspended forever because of the events that would follow in the early morning hours.

Margaret arrived at the A&W as it was closing, helped clean up to speed things along, and planned to get a ride with Marcia. Nancy went home to pack and waited for Marcia, who would pick her up after dropping off Karen and Margaret. They planned to head north together for a three-day mini vacation.

Robert and Norma Jean Rider were at the Imlay Lounge which was adjacent to the bowling alley not far from the American Legion (now Stevo’s restaurant), where Margaret had just left the dance.

When the final chores were finished and the doors locked, a hush settled over the small-town streets. For the group of friends, the evening felt like any other: safe, familiar, a gentle chapter of their youth.

But beneath the glow of streetlights and the comfort of routine, time was quietly shifting. The joy of anticipation mingled with the contentment of friendships, as everyone prepared to part ways – some for the night, some for adventures up north, all expecting nothing more than the usual goodbyes and see-you-soons. No one could have known how sharply fate would turn nor how suddenly everything would change in the hours to come.

At approximately 1:15 a.m., the Madeline sisters and Karen settled into Marcia’s Ford Falcon and traveled south on M53, while Donald Harrison from Warren was driving north in his truck. At the curve near Ross and Webster roads, he crossed the line and hit the Ford Falcon hit on. The girls were less than a mile from Karen’s home. Peg Rider Shagena, Karen’s eleven-year-old sister, watched the emergency vehicles from out the front window of the Rider home. Just moments before her parents had come upon the accident before any emergency vehicles were on the scene. They were unaware who was in the car until Robert saw his daughter Karen’s coat and his heart sank as he recognized it. The Madeline sisters were instantly killed; Karen was rushed to Almont Community Hospital where she passed away about two hours later.

Nancy Hillman had fallen asleep on her living room floor, she woke up to a horrible phone call, informing her about the car accident. She felt tremendous guilt for many years, because normally she would have been in the car with them. She described it as being in a fog. She struggled to find peace for a long time. Her life did change; she has never forgotten her best friend and the younger girls. Nancy named her daughter Ann after Marcia, honoring her late friend by using Marcia’s middle name.

On that Saturday morning, the news quickly reached nearly every household in the area. The community was engulfed in grief and shock. For many in that generation, it marked their first encounter with the death of a classmate or peer -made even more profound by the fact that three young lives were lost. These were individuals full of joy, aspirations and untold stories. Even sixty years later, most residents vividly recall where they were when they heard the news, as well as their final interactions with those who passed away.

Janis Weaver was at a sleepover at MaryBeth Vlieg’s home; they were sleeping outside in tents and remembered hearing ambulances passing by. Many people I spoke with mentioned that they still think of the girls whenever they drive along that stretch of M53 and pass Karen’s house. Mary Lynn Roy Reynolds recalled the collective heartbreak felt by the entire community for the affected families. Peg Rider Shagnea described the atmosphere as one of shock, while Sue Dodson Belcher reflected on how traumatic the event was for the school. Kathy Louwsma McGathy continues to feel the loss to this day and will never forget attending their funerals – a first for many of their peers. Pat Hunter Arnaud who graduated that year, remembered attending both the baccalaureate service and the funerals the same week: those for the Madelines were held at the Catholic Church on Main Street, while Karen’s was at the Congregational Church on Bancroft Street. Imlay City High School band members recall the town’s Memorial Day Parade proceeded as always, with one major exception. They stopped cadence when the route went past Muir’s Funeral home where the girls laid in repose. Stillness draped over the crowd, quiet tears steaking many cheeks during the moment of silence as the town paid respect.

In the months and years that followed, the community – though forever changed – found solace in the memories that bound them together. The A&W remained a gathering place. For those who worked there and those who frequented its booths, it offered a sense of belonging and a reminder that joy and sorrow, celebration and loss coexist in every small town.

As former carhops and grill cooks moved on with their lives, many carried the lessons and warmth of those formative days with them. These young people grew up among the neon and chrome, learning resilience as much as responsibility. They watched their town change shape, yet found that even as faces and fortunes shifted, the bonds of shared experience held fast. The places they frequented -whether for a summer job, a quick bite, or a midnight heart-to-heart -stood as silent witnesses to their joys, losses and coming of age.

Their stories, told and retold, became a kind of inheritance, passed down through recollection and reunion, ensuring that the spirit of the past lived on even as new chapters began. Marcia, Margaret, and Karen will always be remembered as long as we mention them.

Upcoming: Changes for A&W during the 1970s, Cris and Kathy’s car hop days continue. Contact Lynn at tct@pageone-inc.com