For the Wee Ones

Back-in-service 1958 Wee Folks Wagon

STORY AND PHOTOS BY BOB TOMAINE

If miniature cars designed for kids were eligible for AACA Nationals, Phil Stofanak’s Wee Folks Wagon would t in the Driver Participation Class.

“I cleaned it up, because it was lthy,” Stofanak said. “I put the batteries in, I put the handbrake handle on, oiled up the wheels and the steering mechanism. The windshield post was out, so I just slid that back in. It didn’t really need anything. It’s so simple.”

And “simple” is the right word, despite the fact that the Wee Folks Wagon was advertised in 1958 as “the electric auto with more of everything!” With its 50-inch wood-and-metal body riding a 31-7/8-inch wheelbase, its passenger capacity was listed as “4 children or 1 dad & 2 kids.” With that in mind, Stofanak realized after seeing it mentioned online that it would be the perfect gift for his grandson, P.J. IV. The owner was local and was asking about its identity, Stofanak recalled, so a few respondents replied that it had once been owned by a restaurateur whose kids drove it around Nazareth, Pa., on the sidewalks.

That was just a few miles from Stofanak’s home, so he asked whether the car was for sale. It was, the owner set a price and he agreed, but heard nothing more about it.

The Wee Folks Wagon was a step up from the ubiquitous pedal car, but was still about as basic and utilitarian as it could possibly be. Its manufacturer claimed that it could carry four kids or two kids and one adult.

“A couple of months went by,” he said, “and he must’ve been going through some things. He said, ‘I’m sorry, I never got back to you on this. Are you still interested?’ I said, ‘Absolutely.’ So I drove down there with my little utility trailer and brought it home.”

With a starter motor powering the rear wheels via a chain, he said, the Wee Folks Wagon’s mechanical needs were addressed with some new wiring, cleaning of switches and a pair of fresh six-volt batteries, but he soon found that advertising was somewhat optimistic when it claimed that the car “runs all day” before an overnight recharge.

“It’ll go an hour,” he said, “but it depends. My grandson likes to start and stop. He likes to put it in forward, go backwards. He’s going to be living through electric cars, he’s going to have to learn a little bit about them.”

The Wee Folks Wagon shares a limited-range problem with modern electric cars, but that wasn’t a concern in 1958, because its builder, Grant and Grant of Los Angeles, knew it was for kids and long-distance travel wasn’t the purpose. Instead, its advertising cited the important points such as the fact that it was “sturdy” with a “low center of gravity … clean, quiet” and “can move 200 lbs.” Another ad gives the capacity as 250 pounds and promises that it was “not too fast to be dangerous” with its speed set at 5 mph. It was the “latest, most practical, safest for Junior.”

“The thing that kind of surprised me,” Stofanak said, “is that it cost something like $300 back in 1958, so it was not a cheap toy. That was a lot of money for a Christmas present in 1958. It was for the af uent. There’s no way my dad would’ve bought something like that for me.”

In today’s dollars, that works out to $3058, but in 1958, it undercut the somewhat comparable Eshelman Sport Car by $37. For $300, the Wee Folks Wagon came equipped with its own charger and was delivered ready to run with its two batteries, forward-reverse selector, “puncture-proof” tires and even a key. A

RIGHT: Small and basic, the Wee Folks Wagon was advertised as the “latest, most practical, safest for Junior.”

BELOW: Flat plywood panels make up most of the Wee Folks Wagon’s uncomplicated body. The electric mechanics of the Wee Folks Wagon are likewise uncomplicated.

metal bumper of sorts protects the lower body, which is mostly plywood with the dashboard and part of the rear section fabricated from metal.

“Obviously, somebody painted over that body,” Stofanak said, “but it’s nice that they kept the logo. There’s supposed to be a spiffy chevron on the front of these, which mine does not have. It must’ve been painted over.”

The chevron actually is there, under the paint, and it’s barely visible in just the right light, but like other details, that isn’t very important to Stofanak’s grandson. At six years old, he has other priorities.

“He drives it around,” Stofanak said. “He pulls a trailer with it. He loads things on the trailer, packs them down with a bungee cord, drives around and tries to back up, goes sideways. I tell him, ‘You’ve got to learn to do that.’ ‘OK. I’ll just go forward, no biggie.’ He has a ball with it.”

He’s not the only one.

“I do t in it,” his grandfather confessed. “I do drive it around.”