King Midget for Reflections of the Past Issue

King of the road

Locally made automobile’s past influences the future

Jenaye Antonuccio (photo of Pat and Earl Funk beside their 1963 Model 3 by Ed Venrick of the Athens News)
December 8, 2008

Throughout history, innovative men and women have emerged from tiny corners of the world to better society. America’s own foundations – true grit earning freedom – enabled countless dreamers using available resources to build a country through know-how, stick-to-it-iveness, and hands-on production. Thomas Edison, the great American inventor, said, “Genius is 1 per cent inspiration, 99 per cent perspiration.” John Quincy Adams, the nation’s sixth president, said, “May our country be always successful, but whether successful or otherwise, always right.” Here, in our tiny corner of the world, two men did just that: through sweat and sound vision, in a country fresh out of fighting a tremendous war, they produced little cars in a world ready for big change.

Dale Orcutt and Claud Dry often rolled up their sleeves, ready to work with their hands. Both had tinkered with various mechanical creations, but one in particular intrigued them both: airplanes. They made them, flew them, crashed them, and made them again.

This love brought them together, serving the country in the Civil Air Patrol. The men met and bonded, exchanging ideas. Both brought to the table idea and design. Add Dry’s business sense and knowledge of publishing and Orcutt’s technical knack with machinery, and fate would soon alter our corner of the world.

Hashing out their plans, they kept their day jobs. Dry worked for the Athens Messenger as linotype operator and photographer while maintaining his self-published Used Aircraft Directory; Orcutt serviced sewing machines in garment factories.

Dry’s publication evolved into the Midget Motors Directory, a source for selling their own and other's surplus parts (today’s equivalent would be eBay). Its purpose was to pass along to fellow at-home hobbyists the available parts he was always searching for himself, not make a killing in resale. Modest profits were generated, as well as advertising space for the two men’s creations: a series of legendary small vehicles utilizing lightweight aircraft engineering principles.

Mark McCourt, associate editor with Hemmings Publishing (Hemmings Motor News and Hemmings Classic Car magazines), says, “They tapped into a ready and willing market of hands-on, mechanically adept people who enjoyed problem solving and getting their hands dirty.”

The Great Depression had sunk its teeth into America’s economy and spirits. World War II, though boosting the economy, singularly funneled the nations resources into sustaining the war effort. America was living by the slogan, “Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without,” and by penny-pinching and making the dollar stretch further. Citizens were used to constructing with scrap metal, rubber, and elbow grease.

When the war neared to a close, Orcutt and Dry sensed the country’s restlessness and need. A three-year automotive production stall and surplus supplies perfectly matched the age-old “supply and demand” scenario - right from the heart of America.

Carefully planned steps in the two men’s production followed: An ice sled. A motor scooter. A “super-cycle.” A car.

The first “King Midget” car (a name thought up by Helen Dry, Claud’s wife) evolved from a series of quarter-midget racers, which would later become known as the Model 1. It was sold as a kit; designed so any man could build and own a midget racer with a single cylinder engine, no doors or roof, and the ride of their dreams. More designs and models would follow: some sold as kits; most were fully assembled.

Earl Funk, son-in-law of Dale Orcutt and husband of Pat, Orcutt’s daughter, says, “This car was sold with the idea that the average man with a hammer and a pair of pliers could repair most things on it.”

Bob Vahsholtz, author of King Midget: The Story of America’s Smallest Dream Car, comments, “They made one huge bet — that people would buy their unique little cars — but covered that bet with sound management and low-risk alternate sources of profit.”

Raised in the cautious times of the Depression and War rationing, it was in their blood to stay debt-free, and make a steady, reasonable profit to boot.

In the later 1940s and early ’50s, times were good. Expanding baby-boom families increased demand for housing. Health blossomed, as penicillin was introduced to combat chronic illnesses and DDT was used against malaria. Introduction of Tide detergent, electric blankets and the bikini exemplified more options for comfort and recreation.

After some success with the Model 1, and having the visit of well-known journalist Tom McCahill of Mechanix Illustrated prompt further sales, it became necessary to move from the “factory” (a small building on Richland Avenue across from present-day C & E). In 1951, they completed the 21 Campbell St location (the present ATCO/Passion Works studio).

The concrete floor was poured 30 inches thick to support weight; the building was heated by piping hot water through the floor.

“They borrowed money only to build a factory and to finance growth once they had proven orders,” comments Bob Vahsholtz. “They built cars only when they had deposits, and quickly paid off all debt. As a result, even though their big bet did not pan out as hoped, the company made profits and allowed them to realize their dream for as long as they chose to work.”

Soon both men could quit their other jobs to focus on what they loved best. The Model 2 and 3 took shape, along with a Trainer and Junior designed for driver education for children.

The pair never had aspirations to become famous or rich – they just wanted to make cars, and make them well and affordable. They never wavered from their philosophy of building – keep improving the car through testing and re-tinkering, and stick to the plan of providing easy, lightweight, do-it-yourself vehicles. They refused many orders that didn't fit in with their business methods.

Along these practical, small-business lines, Louise Orcutt sewed the canvas tops to the Model 3’s in their basement, while a blind man was employed to sew the upholstery.

The same employees who built the vehicles helped build the factory. Pat Funk, daughter of Dale Orcutt, recalls her father bringing a block of clay over to the factory, used for making new ideas, and setting it on his office desk.

“He’d tell them, ‘Come on in here, make this look the way you think it ought to look,” she says.

Pat also remembers of the partners, “They had this common agreement: if one didn’t like something, they were not going to force the other one to do it; if they agreed on something, good.” She adds, “They were good partners — they worked together very well.”

Only six auto manufacturers remained in business by 1966. Midget Motors was one of them. “It was successful in its limited way because those two were excellent managers with a tight focus,” says Vahsholtz. “The significance lies in their ability to profitably build inexpensive microcars at microvolume levels in a sustainable way. They zeroed in on a tiny splinter market ... and never gave up.”

David Funk, grandson of Dale Orcutt, says, “The King Midget is an example of sustainable manufacturing through recycled parts, manufacturing jobs in Appalachia, potential for export sales overseas, earth-friendly fuel economy, and simplicity of only 88 parts so anyone can do repairs.”

Funk adds, “Thirty-three car companies started up after WWII, but in the end only the King Midget lasted into the 1960s, and by 1966 was the 6th largest car company in the country.”

Local impressions varied, in part because of Orcutt and Dry’s modesty, and in part because of an established rule. No King Midgets were sold within a 50-mile radius of Athens, simply because they wanted to avoid the responsibility of making repairs due to lack of room.

Earl Funk, Pat’s husband, who owned a sporting goods store, Sports Incorporated, located across from the Court House, rarely saw them uptown. Julie Stoudt, who lived right next door to the Dry’s South Shannon house and office, says, “They were very kind and generous people.”

The Drys let Stoudt and her siblings play often in their yard without complaint. “It was very low-key. We never saw the cars, not even in the driveway,” she says.

But Dan Dry, son of Claud, has one special memory. “I remember riding down our street, South Shannon Ave, with my Father at the wheel and me seated next to him, being the proudest kid in the world.”

He adds, “I was so proud of my Dad for being a part of such an amazing invention.”

Metal carefully fitted together, the car is utilitarian, reliable-looking, and solid. Because it is so low to the ground, even the engine casing boosted up on the small wheels only comes to knee-height. You think you might not fit. But giddy as a little kid at Christmas, you must get in. You step over the lip, slide into the seat. Long legs withstanding, it is still quite a surprising reach to the gas pedal below. The steering wheel fits nicely into your hands. The car is begging for a spin. You wonder why you haven’t done this sooner.

Here’s what others say about how it feels to drive or ride in a King Midget:

• “They’re very easy to drive (though shifting into reverse can be tricky). My grin never shifted out of ‘ear-to-ear’ mode during the excursion.” — Bob Vahsholtz

• “It was definitely strange sitting so low to the ground, not having doors or a roof, and pulling up behind a modern car and having their taillights at your eye level. I actually would like to drive it again – because the first time was getting the feel and getting the kinks worked out. Next time, I want to be able to just drive it.” — Heather Reed, curator of the Athens County Historical Society and Museum

• “Loud, bumpy, lots of rattling, but ultimately, honestly, and I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, it made me feel special and lucky to have access to the adventure of riding in a King Midget Car.” — Kelee Riesbeck, director of the Athens County Historical Society and Museum

• “I drove my model 3 about 100 miles one day and it felt like I had gone 1,000 miles — no heat and sitting on three inches of foam. My grandson enjoyed it because he was small enough to move around inside.” — Paul Gerhardt, restorer of King Midgets

• “That ride was one I’ll never forget. I think I started laughing as soon as I got in the car and didn’t stop until well after we were parked again.” — Mark McCourt of Hemmings Publishing

In 1966, a group of investors bought the Midget Motors Corporation from Dry and Orcutt, and Joseph Stehlin became president. Production ceased in 1970. No records indicate exactly how many King Midgets were produced in total - factory records were lost in a flood. Estimates range as low as 4,000 to as high as 18,000, with most falling into the lower range.

The Midgets nearly disappeared from the public eye, but not from the hearts of many. Few still searched for it, remembering the little car in the back-page advertisements of magazines such as Popular Mechanics and Popular Science.

Some were discovered in used-car parking lots, or rusting away in abandoned barns. They were taken into hobbyists’ garages to be slowly brought back to life while the owners sought for original parts.

In 1985, Dave Stults collected and bought up the parts for the same reasons. He says: “My motivation to own the King Midget parts, that I believed were the only remaining parts from the factory, was three-fold. I’d enjoyed the 1958 King Midget (a previous purchase) and my enthusiasm for it was still strong. Secondly, it seemed to me that all other brands seemed to have an advocate or club, but King Midget had none. I decided that I wanted to be King Midget’s advocate. Lastly, I wanted to build a small electric car for retirement communities.”

Stults contacted Pat and Earl Funk with the idea to start Jamborees, gatherings of fans of the cars. The Funks thought it was a great idea. Thus began the formation of International King Midget Car Club.

The first Jamboree was June 22, 1991 in Westport, Indiana. In the parade, Mrs. Louise (Orcutt) Lee rode with Erlyn Wilker of Stratford, Ontario, Canada in his 1959 King Midget.

The line-up of King Midgets started with a 1952 Model 2, and ended with Stults’ last King Midget made, a Model 3, with Pat and Earl Funk onboard. Pat remembers, “We were going across these hilly country roads. Going up a long slow hill, I could see all of the cars at the same time, and I cried.”

The Funks, too busy in their early-married years and beyond trying to keep food on the table for a family of four, acquired their first King Midget in 1991. They’ve had some practical modifications made – such as thicker seats and a bigger horsepower engine to compete with today’s traffic.

Pat says, “I think the club and jamborees are wonderful. I think, ‘What would my dad think of all of this?’” She pauses. “And I think, ‘He would love it, he would love it!’”

Orcutt and Dry used to test the cars by trying to ascend High Street Hill. If a car didn’t make it, it was sent back to the factory for adjustments. The Jamborees hosted in Athens resurrected this event for entertainment. Here are some accounts:

• “I accelerated as quickly as I could to have the most momentum possible as I started up the hill. When the speed slowed to the shift point between high and low gear, I momentarily released the throttle and depressed it again to enable the shift to occur more quickly and smoothly. I was confident that it would suceed, but it was exhilirating to top the hill, still with good forward motion.” — Dave Stults, former owner of King Midget rights and parts, founder of the King Midget Car Club International

• “My grandmother and I made a valiant run at it in my King Midget. The pressure was on because I definitely didn’t want to stall out with the Jamboree Parade Queen in the car with me. Unfortunately, though, we didn’t quite make it. At the time, people in clown costumes would help by pushing the cars to the top of the hill. The final humiliation, though, was my grandmother’s explaining to the clown that there really wasn’t anything wrong with the King Midget, rather that her grandson was getting chubby and the car just wasn’t meant to carry that kind of load. I believe she was the first Parade Queen ever asked to push the car she was riding in.” — David Funk, grandson of Dale Orcutt

Mike Beebe, current owner of King Midget rights and parts, and developer of a new prototype he hopes to have available as a kit in the coming year (www.midgetmotorsupply.com), says, “Dry and Orcutt were very much about the utilitarian aspect of a motor vehicle — lightweight, a resource conservation, and economic. King Midgets were not about the indulgence of the huge steel vehicles of the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s.”

Joe Blosser, who restores the cars, says today’s road standards limit the use of King Midgets on larger highways. Yet, he adds, “It is exactly what we need today as a commuter car for transportation locally. I’m trying to get as many back on the road that I can.”

Paul Gerhardt, another expert restorer, says, “I enjoy bringing any King Midget back to life so people can enjoy them.” He owns two.

But it is more than just regulation standards that would hinder King Midget’s success in today’s world. America’s lust for comfort has changed.

Mark McCourt says of King Midgets marketed today, “To succeed, the entire concept of selling and distributing the King Midget would need a thorough re-think. To engineer a small runabout with the necessary safety features would require far more than a small manufacturer could afford to do without the support of a large and experienced corporation (think of the computer software, crash testing facilities and the passenger packaging and amenities we’ve all come to expect). And off-the-shelf, small-displacement engines (like the old Wisconsins and Kohlers) would have to be completely reengineered to meet pollution standards and allow safe highway speeds. How would they engineer crumple zones, front and side impact air bags, traction control, a cd player and four cupholders into a car with a target weight of fewer than 1,000 pounds?”

Today’s auto industry is suffering. Resisting filing for bankruptcy, the Big Three (General Motors Corp, Chrysler LLC, and Ford Motor Co) have submitted two bids to Congress for emergency funding in an economic downturn due pitiful auto sales and the clamped credit market. The executives in the companies, not wanting to shut down different brand lines, and have been urged to take major salary cuts.

At a recent congressional hearing for the Big Three bailout, Senator Christopher Dodd (D – Conn.) said, “Their board rooms in my view have been devoid of vision. They have promoted and often driven the demand of inefficient, gas guzzling vehicles, and dismissed the threat of global warming.”

The Big Three have made commitments to speed marketing of hybrid and electric vehicles. Ford has pledged to increase the production of smaller vehicles. Other companies have designed similar small cars, such as Volkswagen’s Up! concept car, the Smart ForTwo, and Toyota IQ.

Could the little car made by two men in Athens, Ohio inspire vehicles today?

Bob Vahsholtz thinks it could. “I believe Dry and Orcutt are a splendid example of the entrepreneurial spirit we’re losing in this country,” he says. “I believe it would be easier now than it was then to succeed with microcars in this country. Americans rarely have the patience and work ethic to actually do what it takes to make a dream come true. There are plenty of examples, but Midget Motors is a good one.”

Dan Dry says, “I think the car inspired auto designers to think about stripped-down non-luxury autos that are fuel efficient.”

“It is ironic that as the country debates the merits of a $25 billion bailout of the auto industry,” argues David Funk. “We have a story in Athens of a high school-educated inventor and a enterprising business man that refused outside capital, let alone debt, as they combined recycled WWII scrap, ingenuity, and a dedicated Athens workforce to produce a vehicle that gets over 70 mpg. Detroit has yet to match it to this day.”

Facts and information were compiled from resources at the Athens County Historical Society and Museum, the Robert E. and Jean R. Mahn Center for Archives and Special Collections at Ohio University, and from King Midget: The Story of America’s Smallest Dream Car by Bob Vahsholtz. Special thanks to Bob Vahsholtz, Mark McCourt, Dave Stults, Kelee Riesbeck and Heather Reed, Pat and Earl Funk, David Funk, Dan Dry, Julie Stoudt, Joe Blosser, Paul Gerhardt, Mike Beebe, and Deborah Rentz.