Dwight Eisenhower, who was the supreme commander of the Allied Expeditionary Forces in World War II, called the Jeep “one of the three decisive weapons the U.S. had” during the war.
Gen. George Marshall called the Jeep “America’s greatest contribution to modern warfare.” Willys-Overland Motor Co. won the federal contract in July 1941 to build a quarter-ton 4X4 utility truck for the military at a unit price of $738.74 ($14,604.89 in today’s dollars) but couldn’t build enough of them. so Ford Motor Co. also built Jeeps. Willys built 359,489 Jeeps, and Ford built 277,896. The two companies built identical vehicles, so parts were interchangeable.
The four-wheel-drive Jeep weighed 2,337 pounds and used the Willys inline four-cylinder engine rated at 60 horsepower. It had a three-speed, floor-mounted manual transmission with a two-range transfer case and had an 80-inch wheelbase. The driver sat over the 15-gallon gas tank, which gave a predictable driving range of 300 miles. The top speed was 60 mph, which was considered very fast in 1941.
But how did Jeep get its name? There are a few theories on that. One suggests it came from a Popeye comic strip character called Eugene the Jeep. The U.S. military is big on acronyms, and just as today’s “high mobility multipurpose wheeled vehicle” is called a Humvee, I think this general-purpose vehicle was probably first abbreviated as “GP,” which became slurred to Jeep. There isn’t proof of any theory, though, so we’ll probably never know for sure.
Not only did the Army’s top brass love the Jeep, so did most G.I.s. When the war ended, Willys decided to make a Civilian Jeep (CJ) and market it to farmers. At that time, about 73% of American farmers didn’t have a truck or tractor, and the Jeep could be both. It was promoted as “The All-Around Farm Work-Horse.” Cash prizes were offered by “Popular Science” magazine for “Ideas of Peacetime Jobs for Jeeps.” Many uses were found for Jeeps aside from farms. It’s reported that from 1949 to 1964 Jeep vehicles or chassis were used on all Zamboni ice resurfacing machines, reducing the time required from 90 minutes to 10.
Hayward’s Roy Towers owns this issue’s featured 1947 Willys CJ2A. All of us would call this vehicle a Jeep, but legally it was not branded as such. Back in June 1940, the government solicited bids from 135 companies to build a quarter-ton light reconnaissance vehicle, but only three companies responded — American Bantam Car Co., Willys-Overland and Ford. All three had influence on the design, but Willys produced the prototype in just 75 days. After the war, there was a dispute as to what company could use Jeep as a brand name. That wasn’t settled until 1950, so Tower’s vehicle is branded Willys without the word Jeep anywhere on the vehicle.
The civilian CJ2A is just about as basic as a vehicle can be. It has four-wheel drive but no heater or anything else we now consider as standard equipment. Towers wants to keep his vehicle as original as possible, so it is, other than safety items such as seat belts, turn signals, a rubber floor mat and front hubs. It has the period-correct engine, tires and four-wheel drum brakes. Towers also has the optional removable roof and doors.
If you want to clean up this vehicle inside and out, all you need is a hose. There are two small openings by the drive and front passenger seat for the water to flow out. A few things make the civilian vehicle noticeably different from the military model. The civilian model has a tailgate, larger headlights and a spare tire mounted on the side instead of in back.
Towers bought this vehicle about six years ago. Two brothers who were like family to Towers, owned a ranch near San Ramon, and this was their Jeep.
“They got it in the mid-’70s,” he said. “It’s been in my life all these years. It had been sitting out in the rain for about 15 years, and I asked if he wanted to sell it to me. I paid $500.”
The owner showed me a picture of the vehicle from when he got it, and it looked like it was ready for the scrap yard.
“A shop in San Lorenzo let me use his shop to work on it,” Towers said. “Whenever I needed someone with brains, they did it. I did the grunt work. Everything in that Jeep has been gone through, every nut and bolt.”
A period-correct engine from Oregon was rebuilt at Hubbard’s Machine Shop in Hayward. Working nights and weekends, it took about five years for Towers to complete his project.
Sometimes wives are unhappy with their husbands’ lengthy projects outside the home but, “My wife encouraged to do this Jeep because I was threatening her with (buying) a Corvette,” he said. “But by the time I was done with this Jeep, I could have had a Corvette.”
Have an interesting vehicle? Contact David Krumboltz at MOBopoly@yahoo.com. To view more photos of this and other issues’ vehicles or to read more of Dave’s columns, visit mercurynews.com/author/david-krumboltz.
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