On Sunday, December 22, Gary Manley called me to deliver news that I knew must someday arrive, but that I had hoped never would. He let me know that Joe Mack Schubert had passed.
Of all my heroes as a teenager, and those who remain heroes to me at this late stage of my life, none are more dear to me than Joe Mack.
Readers of my blogging may remember my post on Joe Mack's 76th birthday in 2013.
Some of his life's story is told there, but a bit of it bears repeating here.
Joe Mack lived in Greenbelt, a place of my early childhood, and the home to so many of my friends. The above photo, given to me by Darryl Richards, is the only photo I have of Joe Mack before an accident paralyzed him at the age of 25.
I first met Joe Mack at Berwyn Baptist Church, the Church that his Mom and my Mom shared. This cool dude with a beard, sitting barefoot in a wheel chair (covered with car stickers) entered the sanctuary. He was a celebrity. I quickly learned that he and my Dad were friends, fellow Marines, and worked at the same CO-OP store at one time. I was 15 years old.
Within three years I purchased a Corvette and entered the world of car worship. Older guys had a network of contacts that proved useful to me and the guys at Beltsville Shell in making our cars cooler and faster. They included Pete La Barbera, Carl Schinner, Darryl Richards, and Joe Mack.
Despite his handicap, Joe Mack was an avid rodder, and a superb interior craftsman. His reputation for custom motorcycle seats quickly spread.
The interior of my 1959 Corvette was getting shabby, so Joe Mack agreed to make custom dash, seats, and door panels. He used black Naugahide that was stunning. I would stop by his shop in Greenbelt between college classes to monitor his progress.
During one of the visits, Joe Mack said to me, "Cary, you know it's a good thing you are having me do this work now, because a year from now it will be much more expensive."
I replied, "Really? Why is that?"
He replied, "Those Naugas have been declared endangered and soon the prices for the hides will go through the roof!"
Such was his mischievous sense of humor. Everyone loved Joe Mack.
Outside of our small communities of Greenbelt, College Park, Berwyn Heights, and Beltsville, where he was well known, Joe Mack enjoyed a nation-wide celebrity among Hot Rodders. For example, here is a photo that appeared in the classic "Rodders Journal", made famous by Steve Coonan, of Joe's Model A Roadster driving across the country, wheel chair strapped to the side! Look at that smile.
This week Dave Wallace and others provided me with more information and an article about Joe Mack that appeared in Hot Rod Magazine. Please see the four-page article below, a special editorial about him (I apologize that it is a bit difficult to read).
He lived far longer than his doctors predicted -- they didn't account for his unquenchable spirit and pure love of people. He never complained about his handicap, or the accident that tried to limit his life. Even though he was 9 years and 364 days older than me, he treated me as though we were best friends in high school.
After I moved to California, and we published Beltsville Shell, I was reunited with Joe Mack. Phone calls and letters were exchanged, and he came to Reunion #8. Here are a few photos from that event.
Joe Mack and Darryl collaborated to give me a beautiful gift that rests in a place of honor in my garage. They had the Rodders Journal photo enlarged, and Joe Mack autographed it for me saying, "Hey Cary -- Burn More Rubber & Keep on Crusin!! Your Pal Joe Mack"
Gary Manley sent me the photo below, ironically, one week prior to his passing.
Like all of you, I will miss him so very much.
Keep Crusin', Joe Mack!
Cary Thomas, December 27, 2024
I'd see Joe Mack working on a step-side short-bed Chevy pickup when Dian and I were walking our basset hounds along the Anacostia River. We lived in Hyattsville , and this was in the late 70s: Dian was starting her business and I was getting a grip on the Smithsonian Institution. We didn't talk much with Joe, but we loved that pickup, and one day Dian brought one home. We drove that pickup the whole time we lived in Maine in the 80s, and still had it when Joe Mack and Dian and I next crossed paths, thanks to Dave Wallace, at Enrique's Restaurant and Bar in Ocala, Florida, when I was doing something for Don Garlits and writing my book on the drags. There was lots of storytelling, and the group got together and created a Best Babe plaque for Dian. She always kept it. Dian died five years ago. Joe Mack and I were just the came age. Enrique's is gone, but I still have a photo of our gathering posted next to my desk.
ReplyDeleteComment by Dr. Robert C. Post, author of "High Performance" history book, great friend of Joe Mack's. —DAVE WALLACE Jr.
ReplyDeleteApologies -- the first COMMENT was from Dr. Robert C. Post, author of "High Performance" history book, great friend of Joe Mack's.
DeleteHere is a remembrance from Dave Wallace, Jr. sent to me today:
ReplyDeleteI met both Joe Mack and Pete LaBarbera late one foggy night in Dec. 1968 when a yellow, big-block El Camino towing an ancient panel truck pulled into the driveway of a Van Nuys, Calif., rental home already shared by five guys still in their teens. Pete—another Maryland legend!—were in their 30s, seemed like wise (ha!) old men. Other than letter correspondence, they were both total strangers. Pete's panel was stuffed with every piece of equipment and material from California Upholstery Co., which had operated out of Mack's folks's home garage [1B Gardenway, if memory serves?] with unprecedented permission from the city of Greenbelt to extend electrical power to a garage and open a home-based business. They set up shop in our backyard garage as Valley Cycle Trim. I introduced Mack to Tony Nancy, who kindly urged his own material suppliers to extend his own "long deal" on prices to this unknown newcomer. I remained close to both vagabonds for the rest of their lives, sending Mack occasional stacks of car magazines as recently as this year. The combined influence of those two guys at that pivotal point changed my life and personality and outlook—forever more. All seven of us stayed and partied in that crappy house until roommates Fred, Glen, Jack and I ALL received draft notices for June-July 1969 inductions. (All somehow survived Vietnam duty, at least physically). Our continuing friendship got me east to Maryland in 1972, living with newlyweds Joe Mack Sandy in their converted Riverdale attic while working the counter for Pete at Beltsville's Rod Shop—where I made many more new friends, including some fellow survivors now posting their own memories of Mack. All three of us bounced back and forth across the country more times than I can count over several decades. Joe Mack lived in at least four of my own homes, teaching me so many lessons about cars, trucks, motorcycles (e.g., how to properly wire a '47 Triumph)—and mostly about what TRULY matters in life. Such a huge loss for everyone involved. He was extremely lucky to have Susie for a sister Kirk for a brother in law all these years. He qualified as a living legend more than anyone I've ever known.
Dave Wallace, Jr. December 28, 2024