Two glimpses into American history from Down Under

Robert Hupp had worked at the Ford Motor Co. as well as at Olds Motor Works decided to produce his own vehicles. His "Hupmobile" (with the extra "p" dropped) went on sale in 1909, with the company's history telling us that Henry Ford was said to have told a friend, "I recall looking at Bobby Hupp's roadster … and wondering whether we could ever build as good a small car for as little money." Hupmobiles soon earned a reputation for not just being cheap, but also rugged and reliable. So much so that Hupp 20 Runabouts were Detroit's first police cars.

Around this time in Australia vehicle assembly and the manufacture of vehicle bodies were protected by tariffs on imports. During the First World War, to preserve foreign exchange, the government imposed a ban on the importation of car bodies and in the 1920s this protection was extended to chassis and other parts. This led to major manufacturers like Ford eventually establishing their own vehicle assembly facilities and parts manufacturing plants in Australia.

Hupp Motor Car Co. chose to recruit smart young Australian men to undertake training in their Detroit works so that they could return to Australia adept not only at each stage of production but also with the intricacies of assembly. Angus applied and was accepted. He was 24 when he left Australia by steamer for San Francisco and then train to Chicago and Detroit. A close friend of Angus's father knew a successful Australian businessman living in Chicago and an introduction had been arranged. Angus spent a few days with that family and was treated like a son, even being given a trendy three-piece suit. The businessman explained that he frequently visited Detroit and whenever possible would take Angus to lunch or dinner to make sure he was well fed and looked after.

As a knockabout Australian farm lad, with good social graces, Angus got on well with the American workers in the Hupp factory, many of who were black, with some the sons of black soldiers who had fought in Lincoln's Union Army in the Civil War. As an old man, Angus spoke warmly of the friendships he'd made at that time, some of which lasted for decades. He was dazzled by American inventiveness and used to say, "After all, Detroit then was like Silicon Valley today."

His Chicago mentor had promised him that before he left Detroit to return to Australia he would take him to dinner in the swankest restaurant in town, no matter how exclusive. Having heard that the Detroit Yacht Club was the place to dine, and knowing that his mentor was a member, asked whether that might be too extravagant. No, it certainly wasn't, so a few evenings later that's where Angus found himself. The waiter took the pair's order and Angus surveyed the few other people there at that early hour. "I still can't believe I'm here," he kept telling his mentor. "I've come from one end of American society to the other." An elderly, white-haired gentleman nearby caught his attention. He was sure he had seen his photograph. It turned out to be Thomas Edison, dining alone and halfway through his soup.

Angus's Australian mentor knew Edison well and did business with a number of his companies. Would you like to meet him, Angus was asked?

"Too right I would," he replied.

His mentor strode over to Edison's stable and they chatted for a moment. Angus was convinced that Edison, an elderly man, would not wish to be disturbed. But then he called the waiter and arranged for his yet unfinished soup to be taken over to the other table. The two men approached and Angus stood to be introduced, still finding it difficult to believe this was actually happening. Angus was full of questions but feared it might be rude and pretentious to ask the one at the top of his list: how did Edison train his mind in his early years to make it so "inventive"?

The old man's response was fulsome. "It begins with your recognition of the fact that you've been endowed with a good intellect. The challenge then is to nurture it and learn how to harness its boundless energy. And, of course, there's that old saying of Samuel Johnson in the 18^th century: 'the one true sign of intellect is curiosity.' That's the road map you use to take your intellect in realms beyond where most people go."

On the steamer back across the Pacific, Angus heard of the Wall Street Crash of October 1929, just as Monte had, heading south from Japan.