The JC Whitney Catalog Was an Automotive Wonderland

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J.C. Whitney was founded in 1915 as The Warshawsky Company, a scrap metal yard on Chicago’s gritty South Side. Lithuanian immigrant Israel Warshawsky was a man who jumped on opportunity when he saw it. In the ’20s, automobile manufacturers were cropping up like dot-coms and failing just as rapidly. Israel bought up the remnants when those companies went under, first as scrap, then as a spare parts empire.

It was his son, Roy, that saw the future in catalog marketing. For sixty bucks in 1934, he placed an ad in Popular Mechanics advertising his “giant auto parts catalog,” for just a quarter. The response was immediate and overwhelming, and carried JC Whitney through the war years and right on into the 1990s.

Like Betty Crocker, Häagen-Dazs and Aunt Jemima, there was no guy named “JC Whitney.”

Pre-internet, JC Whitney was a legitimate source of replacement parts for every kind of car that roamed the streets of America. When Volkswagen hit its stride in the 1950s and 1960s, JC Whitney jumped in hard with tons of replacement parts.

That’s not what made JC Whitney special, though. What made its catalog a must-read — especially at the holidays — when it arrived in your mailbox was the ridiculous accessories contained within.

At the same time, just a few blocks away from JC Whitney HQ, Johnson Smith Company was a world-class selling machine with its full line of fake turds, joy buzzers, rubber chickens and whoopie cushions. JC Whitney took the same approach, but with car people in mind.

Here’s a look at a few items that would make the holiday for your car lover bright:

Winking Animals

Nothing prevents rear-end collisions like a one-eyed cat.

You like blinking lights on the tree, why not on the package shelf of your 1961 Corvair? Winking animals were JC Whitney’s stock-in-trade. For the low, low price of just $6.95 — plus shipping and handling — you could indicate the direction in which you were about to turn through the glowing eyes of Winky the Cat, Duchess the Tiger, or Mac the Dog.

Perched on the rear deck, the animals were wired to the turn signals, thanks to the the weather-tight properties of a four-inch length of Scotch tape.

Horns and Bells

If you were looking for holiday gift that dinged, donged, whistled, honked or AH-OOO-GAH’ed, JC Whitney was your hookup. Pages and pages of chrome-plated horns, bells, whistles and chimes let your fellow commuters know that you were a force to be reckoned with.

Barefoot Pedal

JC Whitney Barefoot Pedal
The perfect accessory for your dune buggy or custom van, the barefoot pedal was a buck-twenty-nine and transformed your car from merely pedestrian to pure awesome.

The truly cool would have a second foot for the floor-mounted headlight dimmer switch. Groovy, man.

Grip King Automatic Electronic Sander

JC Whitney Grip King Sander
YOU THERE! Are you delayed from your holiday festivities waiting for a socialist highway department apparatchik to sand icy roads while you could be pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and doing it the Ayn Rand way? Shame on you, when you could be enjoying the ice-defeating power of the Grip King Automatic Electronic Road Sander!

While those other suckers are spin their wheels ineffectually, you’ll simply push a button to summon the traction that only 50 pounds of sand in the trunk can offer.

Easy to install. Simply requires two gigantic holes bored through the inner fenders. (Holes not included.) Also useful for obscuring the vision of international assassins giving hectic chase.

Denim Stuff

“Join the Jean Scene” with these denim steering wheel covers, litter bags and rear deck mats, complete with back pockets, because not everybody can drive a Levi’s edition AMC product.

A perfect partner to the macrame dreamcatcher hanging from your rear view mirror. Get “with it” today! (Squares need not apply).

Gyroscopic Stabilizers

In the go-go 1950s, you could say just about anything in an ad. Case in point, the Gyroscopic Stabilizers offered in the JC Whitney catalog. The claims for these $19.95 items were the kind that could Make America Great Again, if we didn’t have weenie lawyers trying to ruin everything with “facts” and “proof” and “responsible business practices”.

These items — hunks of metal bolted to your wheel lugs — claimed to cure every ill this side of Halitosis.

Never mind that even an high school physics student can tell you this won’t work. Who are you, Ralph Nader? Get lost, hippie!

Hand Starter for Volkswagen Engines

You kids with your fancy electric start. Why in our day, you drank out of the hose and you cranked over an engine by hand, and if you separated your shoulder after you did, it built character. For less than four bucks, you could experience the sheer excitement of the dawn of the automobile in your very own Volkswagen.

Simply wind the strap around your VW’s generator pulley and fire your car to life with your own gumption.

Hernia truss sold separately.

“Rolls-Royce” Hood and Continental Kit

Now that you’ve yank-started your Volkswagen, you’ll want to add a few accessories to really class up the joint. You’ll be mistaken for a Rockefeller with this Rolls-Royce hood and Continental fake spare tire hump.

No more French’s yellow mustard for you, my good man. It’s Grey Poupon on your tube steak from here on out.

Duplex Left Foot Accelerator

Are you tired of the drudgery of utilizing only your right foot to persevere against the inscrutable resistance of your throttle return spring?

Act today and enjoy this contraption, which allows your right foot to luxuriate in comfort while that no-good lazy left foot does some work for once.

(Second barefoot gas pedal required)

Form-A-Louver Cutting and Forming Tool

Nothing gives your car jet-age styling and performance like louvers that let the hot air out of your trunk. Gone are the days when you have to visit some overpriced “professional” with “experience” to punch holes in your expensive sheetmetal.

Now you can do it from the comfort of your own dirt driveway with JC Whitney’s Form-A-Louver kit.

Comes with easy to follow instructions, which advise practicing on Dad’s Pontiac before messing with your own jalopy.

Craig Fitzgerald

Craig Fitzgerald

Writer, editor, lousy guitar player, dad. Content Marketing and Publication Manager at