ABSTRACT
108 My paternal grandfather looked just like Henry Ford, a fitting likeness, because he saw Ford as one of his folk heroes. Sometimes after Sunday dinner, he would take me by the hand and together we’d sit in the willow-tree swing to “watch the Fords go by.” Just as Carnegie’s ancestor regaled him with the wondrous deeds of Scotland’s champions, so mine filled me with the marvels of Henry Ford and the cars he built.
