Fred Frederick: In His Own Words

Kevin Leonard
3 days ago
7 min read

Fred Frederick, who passed away in January, was a Laurel icon. Since he opened his Chrysler dealership in its present location on Route 1 in 1959, he was involved in more community efforts than probably anyone. When I interviewed him in his office in 2014, he had so many stories that my recorder’s batteries ran out. As I tried to politely leave and slowly backed out of his office, he was yelling, “Wait! One more! I have one more!” Here are some highlights from that interview.

Taking Over the Dealership

Kevin Leonard: When did you come to Laurel?

Fred Frederick: When I got out of the Marine Corps, I went to work for Lustine Chevrolet and later the DeSoto/Plymouth franchise became available here. In 1959 I opened the DeSoto/Plymouth store.

KL: What’s the history of the garage before you bought it?

FF: It used to be the Chevrolet dealership and then it was Davis Distributing, which was a beer distributor. That was the use prior to my purchasing it.

KL: It was built in the early 1900s, wasn’t it?

FF: Yeah, it’s glass tile. You don’t see that anymore. Some of it is cinder block but the original building was glass tile. When I purchased it, up in the attic there were doors for cars in the early 1930s—new.

KL: In the attic?

FF: In the attic. And fenders. You probably don’t realize it, but back in the early ‘30s they shipped cars by rail and the dealer put them together.

KL: How many pieces would there have been?

FF: [laughs] I don’t know—that was before my time. But I know they did that, and these were parts left over. The door panel, for example, was about an inch and a half thick and the glass was already in the door. So it was the whole door assembly. And the fenders—there was more metal in the fenders than in the whole side of a new car today.

Community Involvement

KL: When did you first start becoming involved in community affairs?

FF: Right after I came to Laurel.

KL: What were some of the things you were doing back then?

FF: We were the original Chamber of Commerce.

KL: Who do you mean by “we”?

FF: Bob Kluckhuhn; Colonel Phil Pope, the past commander of Fort Meade; John Sippel; Wolford Berman; and Melvin Berman.

KL: So, what else did you do as far as community affairs?

FF: Well, I was Chairman of the Laurel Regional Hospital and on the Hospital Commission for Prince Georges County. One thing I did as Chairman of the Chamber of Commerce—this was when Ted Agnew was governor—for the soldiers at Walter Reed and the hospital at Fort Meade, we had a day at the races for them. I put that thing together not realizing how big it was going to be. They have a place in front of the clubhouse seats—we had it filled with home-cooked food given to us by people in the community. It was so big we were out of control. Number 1, we had to rent trucks to get it all over there. We had funny money we gave to the soldiers. Plus, the people—the old hard-nosed betters that don’t say hello, go to hell, nothing—would go down and give these guys a real ticket. Plus, we had all of these gifts that we auctioned off so that they could use the money. We had 60-some patients. They had buses converted into ambulances, bringing them in on stretchers, the whole thing. And the racetrack, who was a little reluctant to start with, they jumped right in and did whatever they could do to make it as good as it could be. That was a community effort.

“Open” Housing in the 1960s

KL: When you say “open” do you mean no discrimination?

FF: Yes. We delivered that to the Pentagon.

KL: What do you mean you “delivered to the Pentagon”?

FF: We went over and met with [Congressman] Wilbur Mills. Melvin Berman and I went to the Pentagon with all of our documentation to say that we could deliver almost 70 percent but there were some apartments and houses and some rooming houses where families owned it and we couldn’t deliver those. But we could deliver 70 percent open. Wilbur Mills—we met with him at 10:00 in the morning at the Pentagon in his office. He’s drunk. And spitting on my tie. He says, “Let me tell you something, Fred. You f*** with my troops and we will not only not frequent the city of Laurel, we’ll wipe her right off the map.”

KL: He was a piece of work.

FF: He was a piece of work. And, as I recall, there were six two-to-four-star generals in the room. He was the head of the Armed Services Committee. And when he spit on my tie because he was sloppy drunk at 10:00 in the morning, I said, “Congressman, I am disappointed in you and what you stand for and I’m outta here.” And Mel Berman says, “Fred, let’s get outta here.” We walked out with an officer and he’s apologizing. I told him, “You know, I have always respected the military, but I have a lot of respect for you guys for putting up with that.”

KL: Do you think Laurel’s housing boom in the 1960s was an attempt to placate Fort Meade?

FF: No, I think there was a demand for housing and that was what instigated that.

KL: So, what happened with the Fort Meade demand?

FF: Nothing really happened. Because it was the law everybody had to accept any applicant.

KL: But in terms of Laurel and Fort Meade, was anything ever formally resolved?

FF: No, it just kind of took its own course.

Political Office

KL: How come you never ran for office?

FF: I did. I ran as a Republican for county commissioner. Back then they had county commissioners.

KL: What year was that?

FF: Jeez, I don’t even remember. Probably in the ‘60s.

KL: Did you ever have any aspirations to run for mayor or the city council?

FF: No. I don’t know if you ever went to a city council meeting. It’s torture. [laughs]

Laurel’s Growth

KL: How well has the city managed its growth, from your historical perspective, since the ‘50s?

FF: Not very well. We had a project back in the early ‘60s that was an urban renewal project that would have rebuilt the city from the south side of Main Street to the river and from Route 1 to Fourth Street. There was to be a city hall in the center and a city square in the center. The jail would have been on the third floor, but the building would look like a two-story building. Somewhere there must still be the model of that. The last guy I remember that had it was Harry Hardingham.

KL: Did they actually build a model of it?

FF: Oh, yeah. A 4x8-foot model.

KL: Obviously that didn’t come to fruition. What do you think would’ve happened for the city if it had?

FF: Well, it would have expanded the historical desirability of a small-town atmosphere. The racetrack, for example, agreed to build a museum.

KL: What happened to that?

FF: We didn’t get the project off the ground.

Old Laurel Stories

KL: What was it like for all those years being next to the Laurel Hotel?

FF: The Laurel Hotel wasn’t that bad. Nat Diven and his wife ran a restaurant in there. Now the hotel wasn’t that great, but they ran a restaurant there and that was successful. Now the Osbon Hotel—story has it—the guy mixed cough syrup in a bathtub and sold it on the street; that was really alcohol.

KL: Everybody talks about the Laurel Hotel. They don’t talk about the Osbon Hotel.

FF: Things are different. There was a department store on Main Street, and it was snowing and raining, and I went in to get a pair of boots. They had a potbelly stove to heat the place. The guy that owned the department store and the guy that was the Ford dealer were playing checkers. I said, “I need a pair of boots.” He said, “Go upstairs, they’re on the far side of the building.” I go up and get a pair of boots, and I go down and said, “Okay, I got ‘em. Here, let me pay.” He said, “See that cash register over there? Put the money in the cash register.” These guys never stopped playing checkers. [laughs] The Outriders Diner—you could go to the Outriders Diner at 6:00 in the morning and get $10 million worth of information. But they all had to chip in to buy a Morning Telegraph. [laughs] They were all broke, but they had $10 million worth of racing tips. [laughs] There’s a hundred stories about horse racing. You know of Hohman Poist? Well, Hohman Poist was also an engineer, and he built the buzzers that the jockeys would use on the backstretch—and then throw ‘em away—that would shock the horse. He would go get those units and bring them back and rebuild them and sell them again to the trainers. [laughs] And I remember a guy that painted a horse—eyes, nose—so he’d look different than he really was. Of course, they all had a tattoo on their upper lip. There was always somebody. And that was big business. Back then at 5:00 you couldn’t cross Route 1 because the races let out. The place was packed with people. So many stories. Did you know Dr. John Warren?

KL: I know the name.

FF: Do you remember Keller’s News Stand?

KL: Sure.

FF: John was in the back. You could go into the back of Keller’s News Stand and there was a pot with hot dogs boiling in it. So, the county is raiding the newsstand—the health people. Two guys came in with badges. “Everybody out—we’re closing this place up.” They get back where Warren was and they said “Did you hear us? Everybody out.” And Dr. Warren says, “Who are you?” “We’re the county health department.” Warren said, “Glad to meet you. I’m the city health officer. Now you guys get out.” He was sitting there eating a hot dog and reading the Telegraph. [laughs] Those stories go on and on.

Kevin Leonard is a founding member of the Laurel History Boys and a two-time winner of the Maryland Delaware District of Columbia Press Association Journalism Award.