John Zweifler was flipping through Family Motor Coach magazine in early 1998 when he spotted a tiny article in the bottom corner of one page.
The headline — “Tin Can Tourists Rally in Milford, Mich.” — prompted him to pick up the phone. A few minutes later, he had signed up for the event.
“If you’re interested in the trailer-camping-travel thing, this is the greatest place to be because you see so many things from the past,” says Zweifler, a painter and contractor in Elgin who collects antique travel trailers. “It’s pretty amazing the way things were built in the old days, and the charm of them. Some have all-wood interiors that are just absolutely beautiful. They’re very cozy and warm, and they’re wonderful to be around.”
Zweifler and his daughter Teri belong to the Tin Can Tourists, a group that goes ga-ga over vintage trailers and motor coaches. Reincarnated in 1998 after a 20-year lull, the group was first formed in 1919, in the early days of auto travel from the northern states to Florida. The organization took its name from the campers’ bring-along tin can cuisine and the common practice of soldering empty soup cans to the radiator caps of cars as a signal to “kindred spirits” on the road.
The founders hoped the new club, which encouraged safe camping, “wholesome entertainment” and high moral values, would help counter the negative image of newly mobile campers who were descending on Florida like locusts. Worried hotel owners campaigned against travel trailers in state parks, declaring that such activity was “contrary to public health.”
“From about 1915 on, they would go out and just park alongside the road,” says Forrest Bone, a retired high school teacher who revived the Tourists six years ago. “A lot of times they were on private property and they felt like they could camp anywhere they wanted, and litter the place.”
It took a while to get rid of the unsavory reputation, but by the 1930s, the Tin Can Tourists often found themselves courted by small-town chambers of commerce thirsting for tourism dollars. In 1948, Life magazine published an article on the organization and by 1963 membership had risen to its highest level, 100,000 members.
John Culp was 22 when he and his parents bought a new 1947 Westcraft. The 79-year-old TCT member still travels the country with the trailer, his dog and a lady friend.
“Back when I went to conventions in the ’40s, it was nothing for ’em to have 2,000 or 2,500 units,” recalls Culp, whose home is in Clermont, Fla. “They had to keep moving to larger areas to hold ’em all. The biggest decision in the winter was where they were going to hold the summer convention. And in the summer the biggest topic was where they were going to meet in the winter. And other than that, they just played horseshoes and sang around the campfire and just had camaraderie. And that’s pretty much what we do now.”
Over the years, the Tourists’ luster wore off, and the gatherings stalled. Membership in the organization waned as the original members aged and died and new ones were few. Bone, an antique-RV enthusiast and Snowbird who splits his time between Florida and Michigan, was president of the Vintage Airstream Club when he learned about the defunct TCT. Intrigued by the variety of antique trailers still in existence (the VAC is open to only Airstream owners), Bone relaunched the group and in 1998 hosted the first TCT rally at Camp Dearborn in Milford, Mich. The club now boasts 350 dues-paying members, and more than 650 people are on the mailing list.
The annual gathering draws curiosity seekers and nostalgia buffs from across the country. During the four-day event, held the weekend before Memorial Day, members give history and photography presentations, induct their peers into the TCT Hall of Fame and show off antique rigs (most often pulled by antique cars and trucks) ranging from shiny Airstreams to rare Spartans, Avions and Silver Streaks. The club is open to any age of trailer, though most of the vintage trailers are from the ’40s, ’50s and ’60s.
Despite rain that caused the schedule to be shuffled, Bone remarked on the variety among the 84 trailers that attended this year’s rally along with 175 people. Among the rare trailers were three Vagabonds in mint condition (1949, 1952, 1953) and two beautifully kept smaller Shastas from 1963 and 1968.
Other eye-catching vehicles included four Spartans from 1946-1951 and a 1968 Travco motorcoach. The winning trailer at Saturday’s Concours d’Elegance was a 1949 deep-red Vagabond Gypsy “in showroom condition,” towed by a black 1949 Buick. “The combination was just stunning,” said Bone.
“We had a great time. We suffered a little from the wet weather conditions but it didn’t seem to dampen enthusiasm at all. We had the best crowd we’ve ever had,” Bone said.
A Canadian couple, regulars at the rally, brought their one-of-a-kind 1936 Curtiss Aerocar hitched to a custom-built International truck. In the ’30s, a chauffeur allowed the owners to comfortably ride in the trailer (a practice that is illegal now) and communicate with them via a phone.
From a distance, the Aerocar appears to be made of metal but is canvas stretched over a wire frame. (The trailer’s designer, Glenn Curtiss, was also one of the nation’s first aircraft developers.) This is the only known Aerocar still on the road; the other dozen or so, according to Bone, are in museums throughout the U.S.
For Don Mayton, a retired General Motors manager and restoration expert from Zeeland, Mich., the allure is the hobby’s heritage. Each year he and his wife, Carol, travel to the TCT rally in a 1936 Buick Roadmaster pulling a mint-condition 1936 Bowlus Road Chief trailer with Art Deco furnishings, restored wood paneling and a sleek shape that, according to its owner, resembles “the inside of an old boat.”
“It’s a re-creation of how people actually camped years ago,” says Mayton. “The amazing thing to me is that people have been camping in some kind of contraption since the invention of the automobile. Immediately people started making homemade trailers, back in the Model T era. Manufacturers introduced trailers very shortly after that. There are some neat old trailers out there with quite a few amenities. They have a fascinating history.”
Most Tourists are restoration hobbyists or early-retirement adventurers. They tend to describe each other as friendly and down-to-earth.
“We have almost the same attitude as they did in the old days,” says Zweifler, who has owned about 20 trailers in the last 35 years. The latest is a 1965 Airstream Safari.
“A lot of the [original] Tin Can Tourists lived on the road, and there was an extended family bonding type of thing,” he said. “We still have that. It’s wonderful because you can go up to someone you’ve never met before and instantaneously, you’ve got something to talk about. And all of a sudden everybody’s part of a big group. You sit around the campfire, and you have a great time. It’s like you’ve known each other for a hundred years.”
That connection remains after the rally, says Bone, remarking how they stay in touch.
“I grew up in a neighborhood of basically three streets, with a very strong sense of community. By the time I was ready to retire, the neighborhoods were nothing like that. You didn’t know the people on either side of you, let alone four doors down. With the trailer thing, even though we only come together at certain times of the year, there’s a sense of community.”
For more information on the Tin Can Tourists, visit www.tincantourists.com. Membership dues are $20 for the first year, $15 annually after that.
