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Some things take time. Creighton’s garage for instance. The house was built in ’82 and it took until ’82 to get the garage started. That’s EIGHTEEN 82 for the abode and NINETEEN 82 for the garage. Don’t you just hate it when that happens?
The house that now sits in a busy residential area of Southern California was at one time the only house for miles. A fastidious and large late Victorian farmhouse with gingerbread trim, butler’s pantry, servant’s quarters and back stairs, it’s everything the prosperous family who were tapping into the boom of the SoCal citrus business needed. It even had a shed for the family buggy. By the time Creig (as many know him) and his wife Susan bought the house, things had changed a bit.
You see, Creig is a Car Guy. He had a scruffy MGTF that he used as bait to get Susan, his wife of 48 years, to marry him. Along the way had acquired a 1950 XK 120 Jaguar that he used for vintage racing, until it met the wall at Turn 6 at Riverside Raceway. He was also adding more cars as opportunities arose and needed a place to put them so they wouldn’t biodegrade into the driveway. That’s when plans were made for The Garage.
Since he and Susan were also ever so slowly restoring the house, they wanted a garage that fit its character. And Creig wanted room to work. Nine is a nice, square number, so the plans, drawn up by architect and fellow car guy, Jim Spenser, called for a three-wide, three-deep (measuring in sports cars) garage with room for work benches and shelves inside, while the exterior was penned as a clapboard-sided structure with windows and trim that complemented the original house. Inside, an open ceiling of finished and stained exposed beams and, get this, tongue and groove paneling on the underside of the roof further the period feel of the place. There is also storage in the rafters for more stuff. In keeping with the heritage of the house, the driveway is gravel. Good thing, too – Creighton is into English cars. We all know that an English car that doesn’t leak oil doesn’t HAVE oil, so it is to say that the gravel drive ensures there are no oil stains. Creig was also one of the first to try those new fangled epoxy floors inside, so cleaning up the inevitable messes as his assortment of Jags and Morgans mark their territory is a breeze.
There is need here to pause for a bit of historical reflection. As most of us were growing up, residential garages were dark, spider infested storage areas. Houses built to supply the housing boom that followed the Second World War mostly had a one car, attached garage. Remember, in the ’50s, the idea of a two-car family was about as absurd as having two television sets. By the 1970’s, most families had two cars, and sometimes three or more, as the baby boom kids turned 16 and bought cars. As a result, most of these one-car garages had become useless as far as their intended purpose, and had been converted into some kind of bedroom or den or became an expansion of the living room. Increasingly (at least in sunny SoCal), cars were parked in the driveway or on the street. Depending on the city, a carport may or may not have been added to satisfy local building codes. A two-car garage was considered pretty neat stuff. Anything more was in the realm of fantasy and spoke of massive wealth. A three-car garage was the stuff of dreams even twenty years ago, so a garage with space for triple that was jaw dropping to say the least. Add to that finished white walls, an epoxy floor, lots of florescent lighting, organized metal shelves, and an abundance of electrical outlets, Creig’s garage was a ground breaking idea for 1982. Even professional, profit-driven, working garages were mostly grungy, dark, oil-spilled toxic dumps, even in 1982. The idea of a shop that reflected hospital cleanliness was just beginning to gestate, and the idea of a personal garage of the same stature was the rarest of the rare.
As news of Creighton’s plans spread to friends who patronized or worked at the local BAP/Geon foreign car parts store, the Law of Unintended Consequences began to assert itself. Creig, remember, likes English cars. In fact, he was starting to race them in the newly popular VARA races for vintage (read obsolete, but still fun) races. He needed help working on his cars, so guys started to gather. They also brought their own cars, usually of the English persuasion, and naturally in need of tinkering. Misery as they say, loves company. Now Creig is a really nice guy, but, despite having The Garage, is not made of money. In the true tradition of Car Guys everywhere, people began to bring beer, then munchies, then food was sent out for, then food was brought in, and wives and girl friends came along, and the BBQ was fired up to cook the hot dogs and less work was being done, and more wine, beer and food consumed. Every week! After a saintly decade or so of this, Susan (and the neighbors) had had quite enough, thank you. The group began meeting at a local restaurant and then others in the group said, “Hey, why not come over to my place next week?” and a tradition was started. Every week, this amorphous group (it is not a club in any way shape or form) gathers at someone’s house, or shop, or museum, or something car related to drink wine and beer, eat munchies and tell lies. The array of cars that show up runs from 300SL Gullwings, to TR3s, to Citroen Deux-Cheveaux. Craig and Susan (although she usually retreats to the sanctuary of the house) still host a session once or twice a year, and the garage is honored as the birthplace of these weekly gatherings. So much so in fact, that a perpetual memorial plaque was made to honor regulars who have passed on hangs on the back wall.
So that was then, what about now? A year or so, Creig added a full width carport to the front of the garage with a concrete pad to provide shelter for the family’s mundane daily drivers. His collection has expanded and fills the garage so working on any particular car is an exercise in logistics and car shuffling. His MGTF has been restored and is in regular use. The XK120 has been beautifully redone, taking at least fifty awards at various car shows. He drives it regularly as well, and it’s been in a number of movies and videos (including a shoot for Playboy, that included a brief role for Creig, lucky dog!). He has a fine representation of almost every important English sports car: A British Racing Green Austin-Healey 100-6, a red Morgan +4, a butter yellow Jaguar E-Type, and a Lotus Élan. His most recent acquisition is a 1949 Bentley (vanity plate “GNTNE1”) that he was kind enough to chauffeur one of this writer’s daughters and her date to the senior prom a few years ago. To round out the collection is a Maserati 3500. How’d that Italian car get in there? All of these cars are drivable, but unrestored. It is still very much a working garage as Creig tinkers his way through retirement.
In many ways, Creighton’s garage is a piece of history. It blends tastefully into the overall look of the property, it may not be the matrix of the Garage as Style movement, but it is certainly a leading early example and therefore helped in a way for this magazine to be possible. It provided the genesis for a dynamic social group, and holds a right nice collection of cars.
Quite an accomplishment for a transplanted Baltimore Gentleman. GSM
