Curtis Redgap's Inside History of Plymouth - Part 11

I am not an expert. I cannot make any claim to accuracy for the materials that I have used to make these articles. This is intended solely for the enjoyment of MoPar fans including the closet admirers that drive bow tie and blue oval machines. Any resemblance to persons, places, events, things or time is purely coincidental and not intentional. If you like what you are reading, contact Dr. David Zatz, "allpar.com" or leave an email message at: PlymouthRIP62801@aol.com.

- Curtis Redgap @ Orlando Florida in the 21st Century, year 2000

After the beatings from 1960, 1961, and particularly the loser year 1962, the prospect of having another good year after 1963 put morale and spirit over the top, both at our store and all across Chrysler. Plymouth had much to be proud of. The 1963 models spoke for themselves. Sales had zoomed, putting Plymouth in 5th place, leaping over both Buick and Rambler. Even though Elwood Engle was now the top designer at Chrysler, the 1963 models belonged to the departed Virgil Exner. And as a real tribute, they were designed on a crash basis, because Lynn Townsend, as the new Chairman, didn't like what he had seen for 1963 in 1962.

I well recall the new sales hype that Dad had started to receive in the early summer of 1963 concerning the 1964 models. When the photo stills arrived for the new 1964 model Plymouth, I, for one, was stunned! The combination between what Exner had created and what Engle had envisioned was enough to palpitate an enthusiast's heart. They were painfully gorgeous cars! Engineering had not been forgotten either. Engines were beefed up with a generous proportion of powerful V-8s available across the spectrum. The real highlight was the late 1963 model year introduction of the wedge head 426-R V-8. With a single four barrel, it was "officially" rated at 365 horsepower. All I know is that when I tried out a convertible 426 with a four speed, it grabbed the road like a cheetah after its dinner.

Opening night in late September 1963 was as good as we had ever seen. I only wished that Grandpa, Mrs. Weed and Mr. Green had been there to help us with that night. Plymouth was generating its own excitement once again.

The new Chrysler 300 Letter car was equipped with a 390 horsepower 413 cubic inch V-8 that handled like a real road car. Dodge was OK, but the front end treatment was just not that smooth. In comparison to more recent years, of course, it was a beauty.

I well recall Mrs. Beachum's grand entrance that night when she came to pick up her new car. No black beauty for her this year. No way. Got a beautiful blue Sport Fury 2 door hardtop, loaded, with air and a white interior. And, as usual, her 1963 Plymouth was sold the minute it crossed the curb into our lot. That wasn't the only car sold that night. My mother, finally, found the new car that grabbed her heart. It was a 1964 Valiant Signet with the small 273 V-8, and loaded, including air. It was a pretty yellow. Her trade in was also sold that very night. All in all it was a good night. We sold 10 new cars. Mr. Harrison, the general manager was ecstatic. Dad was pleased, but seemed detached in some way.

There had been many rumors circulating that Chrysler was going back to NASCAR to whip the boys there, once and for all. The flip side was that the machine that would do the deed might not be ready. The story was that a new breed of 426 cubic inch V-8 was being built with the legendary "HEMI" heads. Inhouse talk purported this new monster motor was cranking out 750 horsepower in a routine way. The opening shot was set for the 1964 NASCAR first season opener at Daytona on February 23, 1964.

What a whole lot of people didn't know, and that was a very painful secret to hold, was that the engine blocks that were scheduled to be in the race had been poured into molds in December 1963. After careful assembly of the prototypes at Chrysler's engine lab in Highland Park, these engines were run out at full power. Disaster and disappointment prevailed. The blocks developed several cracks on the thrust side of the right hand bank. Engineers scrambled to find a solution. Of course, it didn't take long to figure out that with a whole lot of that sort of horsepower, thicker walls was the only means to solve the problem. It sounds simple, but for each action, there is an equal reaction. Scraping away the cooling core to increase the wall thickness resulted in not being able to get a correct bore casting. The casting was being done by one of the best foundries available in the USA, in Indianapolis.

Engineers quickly converged on the plant. New templates were made up and then tried. After nearly 20 hours, the engineers went to the motel while the new blocks were poured. The foundry folks called the engineers and informed them that all the pourings had failed! Giant holes had developed in the freshly poured blocks. New templates were made, new cores built, and new iron was poured. Again, again, and again. Three times the process was tried. The foundry and the engineers worked around the clock, straight, for 24 hours before the right template was finally made that got a good block. Nearly 5 days had gone by, and it was February 3, 1964!

Several more blocks were cast, and the order was out...... "ship them"! These blocks were sent to the stress testing lab in Highland Park where the engines were hand assembled and put on the Dynometers. The engineers worked around the clock for the first time in Chrysler history. One eight hour shift would complete their data and hand it to the next shift. The engine lab was filled with the mighty bellow of 12 race Hemis running at full bore. The outside world was also made aware of its awesome power because the exhausts were vented through the roof of the lab, and it just resonated off all the surrounding buildings. However, the air was filled with excitement and anticipation. Something very big and very bold was taking place at Chrysler. For the first time in years, it was a true "team" spirit.

As the "new" racing blocks were being hustled to Highland Park, the original HEMI engine had being installed in Ray Nichols 1964 Plymouth driven by Paul Goldsmith. Earlier at a nondescript test track at San Angelo, Texas, the new HEMI pushed the 64 Plymouth to a recorded 180 miles an hour! The track was a bit rough, and put the car airborne leaving acceleration tire marks when he came down! That kind of power had never been seen on a NASCAR track to date! Of course, now the hope was that the original engines being installed by the Mopar teams would last through practice and the qualifying races. Then, by sheer will, some sort of miracle had to occur for the new engines to get to the teams by the start of race day on February 23, 1964.

It was a secret of military proportions. Not one of the Mopar drivers revealed it to anyone. No one was to make a lap wide open. Not even Junior Johnson, a driver that loved wide open racing and who had driven the 1963 Chevrolet "mystery engine" to a 163 miles an hour, talked about his Mopar's speed ability. He later told my cousin, still affiliated with Nichols engineering, that he had never felt a race car with that much power on tap at the touch of the accelerator. For now they were keeping their mounts near the speed of the Fords at around 170 miles an hour. It wasn't all quiet however. On February 7, 1964, Goldsmith qualified with a two lap time of 174.91. Richard Petty qualified with a two lap run of 174.42. On February 8, 1964, two 50 mile races were held for the qualifiers. Goldsmith won the first at 170.94. Petty won the second at 171.99. Goldsmith got the pole and Petty was right along side him on the right. Two weeks later, two 100 mile races were held to determine the rest of the field. Junior Johnson put his Dodge into third starting position with a speed of 170.77. Bobby Issac in a Dodge won the second race at 169.81. By the way, each of the speeds I have mentioned above set brand new track records!

The drama continued back in Detroit. The February 5 blocks were run, stressed, checked, rerun, and all the data analyzed and then rechecked. Finally, the go ahead came On February 10, after 5 brutal straight days of flat out running, analysis, and tear down inspections. On that day the first pouring was made for the engine block that would be shipped to Richard Petty for his number 43 car. This would be the block that eventually won the race.

Between February 15 and February 22, 1964, all the Mopar teams had received the new "thick" walled HEMI V-8. The miracle had occurred after all. On February 22, 1964, all the teams were practicing with their new engines!

The start of the 1964 Daytona 500 saw Paul Goldsmith in a 1964 Nichols Plymouth on the Pole. Next to him was Richard Petty in a Petty engineered 1964 Plymouth. In third place behind Goldsmith was Junior Johnson in a 1964 Dodge Coronet. Beside him was Bobby Issac in a 1964 Dodge Coronet. Behind Junior Johnson was Buck Baker in a 1964 Plymouth. Alongside him was Jim Pardue in a 1964 Plymouth. Behind Baker was David Pearson in 7th spot driving a 1964 Dodge Coronet. In tenth position was Jim Paschal driving a 1964 Dodge Coronet.

The Green Flag dropped officially at 12:30 p.m. Eastern Standard Time on the 1964 Daytona 500. 3 hours and 15 minutes later, Richard Petty sailed across the finish line, in a nearly faultless race. Jim Pardue was second, Paul Goldsmith was in the third spot. A Ford managed to slip into fourth spot, followed by Jim Paschal in 5th place. Junior Johnson came in 9th spot. A new record had been set by Petty as well, at 154.334 miles an hour. It was his first Daytona win. He went on to finish the NASCAR season as the 1964 NASCAR champion.

The following Monday morning, we found our showroom swamped with people who wanted to buy that "fast new Plymouth." Sales took off. Of course, the racing HEMI was not available to the buying public, at least not this year.

Reports of Lynn Townsend turning hand springs in the ChryCo board room were greatly exaggerated. However, he was absolutely jubilant. Lapel buttons quickly appeared throughout the company that mimicked Ford's pitch of "Total Performance." The buttons in Highland Park were not kind. They said, "Total What"? Townsend quickly authorized other projects for the powerful new HEMI to tackle. Specifically, he aimed right at drag racing. He also went and scoped out Indianapolis, however, his accountant heart went cold when he learned he might spend upwards of 10 million dollars and still not build a winner at the Brickyard. In July, a Dodge stock car running the ever popular National Hot Rod Association "Super Stock" class pulled a new national record with an 11.06 second pass that netted 132.62 miles an hour...... in a 1/4 of a mile shot! In the meantime, 426 HEMI head V-8 engine production sped up, settling down to a steady 50 to 60 engines and parts a week.

The amount of floor traffic this new racing effort generated was beyond belief. It was like, suddenly, Plymouth and Dodge had just been discovered, and everyone wanted one. By the way, my brother had not been overlooked by Dad. A new 1964 Plymouth Savoy with the racing HEMI had been delivered and my brother was absolutely lambasting everything in the East with it in the Super Stock class. About the only real competition came from another Mopar with the same engine.

Fleet sales weren't forgotten in 1964 either. In fact, they roared back after the low acceptance of the 1963 models. The State Police came calling with their usual request for test cars. We sent them 2 Plymouths, identical, except for the engines. One was a 383 cubic inch V-8 with a 2 barrel carburetor, and the full blown Pursuit Package. The other was exactly the same 4 door plain Jane Savoy with a the 383 cubic inch V-8 equipped with the 4 barrel carburetor. Commencing with the 1964 models, Plymouth represented the State Troopers every year until the last rear wheel drives of 1989. Oh yes, the 1964 Plymouth was quite the car in the Police Pursuit Packages. Literally, everyone jumped on board Plymouth that year. The city, the county and the state were all driving Plymouth Pursuits. Most were running the powerful yet very reliable 383 4 barrel V-8. Equipped with that engine and the 3.21 rear axle ratio, a 1964 383 Pursuit would jump out to 60 miles an hour in 7.6 seconds. It would run the 1/4 mile in 15.7 seconds at 93 miles an hour. Faster than the big Dodge 880 with the 413. But Chrysler wasn't talking about that, and neither was Dodge. The California Highway Patrol again bought over a 1,000 Dodges as their "E" class enforcement vehicle in 1964. The Missouri Highway Patrol bought a mix of Dodge 880 and Chrysler Newport Enforcers for 1964. All in all, Plymouth patrolled 38 states and 523 major cities in '64.

That summer, in one of the few outings that my brother and I took together without arguing about everything, we went to the Gran Prix held in Watkins Glen, New York. My brother had gotten some free tickets and air fare from one of his promoters.

We settled near what is now the chicane at the end of the long back straight. Back then it was a hump with the backside being slanted in the wrong direction just prior to a sweeping downhill right hand turn leading to the main straight. It was about 8:30 am. The grass was still damp with dew. We had to walk underneath the main straight, and then head for the back part of the track. A couple cars were practicing while we walked along. We finally settled on a spot that drew some shade from the nearby trees and offered an excellent view of the "hump" in the track. A couple Corvettes were out and they made quite a roar as they raced up the back stretch. Because of the trees, we could not see that far down the back stretch. We went back to the concession stand and got some coffee and doughnuts.

Just as we got back to our spot, a roar went up way down the back straight. It sounded like a race in progress. We could hear the people shouting, roaring approval and clapping. The sound rose in crescendo and volume. The crowd noise rose in approval. Suddenly, the source of the noise was upon us. Believe it or not, it was two local, well marked, Sheriff cars and an equally well marked New York State Police car right on their tail. All three cars were 1964 Plymouth Savoy 4 door sedans. It was also quite apparent that these guys were racing each other, and in ernest seriousness! At precisely the right moment, the State Trooper braked hard, accelerated and put his 64 Savoy in front of the two Deputies near the center of the sweeping curve. A roar went up from the crowd and I can remember quite clearly that the Trooper gave them a great big smile and a quick salute as he gunned his car up the short hill to the main straight. Not uncontested, I might add, as the two deputies meant to overtake him! It was a noisy, bellowing display that went on for two more circuits! The noise that those Plymouths made when they hit the back stretch and let it all hang out was astounding. I can still hear it echoing in my memory. Of course, they would never have gotten away with a stunt like that nowadays, but, back then, we had only just begun to realize what innocence was lost when President Kennedy had been slain, and we had not seen the fruits of the long slow drop into the political morass that we have let this country sink down to. The crowd loved it, and so did I, running for the pits to see if I could check the cars out.

All three cars were identically equipped. Apparently New York State bid cars and Plymouth carried the day. The local Sheriff and Village Police bought their patrol units from the State Bid Pool. They were 4 door Savoy sedans. Torqueflite transmissions with 3.23 posi-traction rear ends. 383 cubic inch Police Pursuit Special V-8s with four barrel Carter carbs and big 2.25 inch dual exhausts. It was obvious that the "special" meant a different grind on the camshaft, and we could tell when they sat at an idle. They were not quite smooth, with just a hint of a lump in their sequences. However, when they opened up, it was that big belly bellow that Chrysler engines used to be famous for.

That was also the day that I gave up on the Chevrolet Corvette. In their race, "B" production, they were contending against a small Maserati Coupe that was running in "A" production. I gotta be honest. I had always admired the Corvette up until the end of this race. There were about 25 Corvettes and one little Maserati that looked like the guy had driven it from home that morning and pasted round circles with the numbers on it for the race. The Maserati was light blue. It didn't roar, slide, make smoke, squeal, or even slip during the race. It just went, and went and went and went. Faster and faster, and then still faster. So fast that it was 7 circuits ahead of the nearest Corvette when the race was over. Check it out. I'm not making a literary spiel here, it's a matter of record. Disgusted? Not the word I would choose to use. As far as I was concerned, seeing those Lawmen and their Plymouths charge around the course was the entire race for me that day.

In the Spring, Dad attended an all dealer conference in San Francisco. When he came back, he was more disillusioned than ever. He had been trying, again, to push through the separate Plymouth Division along with their own sales and stores. However, the Plymouth car was a victim of its own success as the new 1964 models were running near record level sales. With a big Plymouth planned for 1965, which would expand the line to two makes of cars, the dealers were content to stand pat and not shake up the cart. They had a friend in Townsend. He liked things uniform, and saw no reason to change a winning formula. Unfortunately, increasing numbers of shoppers saw Dodge as the alternative to Plymouth and the switch was on. Then, as even now, Dodge is perceived to be the next step "up" from the low price class. Dodge sales grew, but at the expense of its sister division Plymouth. Plymouth sales actually dropped in the '66 model year. A good marketeer would have easily seen the writing on the wall. Unfortunately, as we have seen, no one was looking. Or if they were, they didn't see anything. I don't believe that Walter P. Chrysler would be at all pleased with the "benign neglect" policy exhibited towards "his" Plymouth.

Dad had also been in a continuous running battle with Chrysler real estate. Lynn Townsend's accountant heart, which was wanting to make everything exactly alike, was proving to be a great pain for some dealers. Chrysler real estate expected dealers like Dad to just go along with their plans. They wanted us to sign up for a quarter of a million dollar mortgage and build an entirely new dealership closer to the downtown area. These new stores were all alike in design and space. Yes, we would have to pay this mortgage back out of our own money! Dad flatly refused. Chrysler kept putting on the pressure, seeking any sort of angle to make us comply. Even trying to divert inventory and parts replacement. Talk about shades of K.T. Keller's days!

There had been several explosive meetings, with our lawyer being firmly entrenched in the middle of the battle. We had the advantage since it was our land. However, Chrysler had threatened to stop shipments and send them to another area. We knew that it couldn't be done right away because no one else was equipped to handle the amount of cars that we did.

After one particularly odious session, Dad had threatened to shut the whole thing down and start selling Fords or Buicks since both had approached him at one time or another. The session ended without a time or place for another meeting.

In the meantime, I hit upon an idea that would have made our dealership one of the largest. We might even have branched out into what Circuit City is doing with cars now! I came across a dealer that had tried to turn himself into a rental car company. In 1964, they were no where close to what rental cars are today. He lost his money. He had 5 Plymouths that had been registered with the rental company. All five were clean with very low miles. I got the General Manager to buy them all. I put them out on the front row of our store on a Friday morning. By the following Monday they were all sold. For a nice profit I might add.

At first, I wasn't going to say anything to my Dad, since he had not been in on this. I wanted to do it again, just to make sure I was right. I found another mixed bag of Plymouth and Dodge rental units and I got the Manager to buy a dozen. In their transit, Dad had been looking at the books, and I guess he near choked when he saw the check with my name on it, and the amount it was for. The next day, I caught the 5th degree. He was not happy with me. However, the Manager was so enthusiastic that Dad decided to drop the issue and wait and see. I got the 12 cars in, detailed them and set them out on the front lines. They didn't last 5 days! Again, with a very nice profit margin.

Now, you would think my father would be happy. He was not. In fact, he looked like he'd lost his best friend or something. I had no idea what was bothering him. However, I was about to embark on a 24 car rental deal based on the profits of the last cars. When I asked the Manager for a check, he just shook his head. My Dad had barred the entire thing from my participation! I was furious. I went home that night in a confrontational mood, but Dad had left for a 5 day dealer meeting in Highland Park. By the time he got back, a new crisis was awaiting him.

Chrysler real estate tried to force the issue and had bought land downtown for a new Chrysler-Plymouth store. Our lawyer, being the highly intelligent fellow that he was, had put the word out to the local government officials that he was to be notified right away about plans for any new car dealerships in the county. Dad got home on a Tuesday night. Wednesday morning an injunction was filed against Chrysler to halt any further attempts at building a dealership pending a court review of the agreement with my Dad. Hearings, arguments, depositions, rulings, filings, and all sorts of court stuff was in progress.

Me? I was a Junior in high School, about to become a Senior in 4 months, and a star pitcher on the Baseball team. I was also the local Plymouth dealer's son, and the new Plymouths were the hot ticket in racing. I was about to find out just how fast those new 64 police pursuit Plymouths were.

I had just gotten into home room class on a Friday morning. It was a gorgeous Sping day with the promise of being very warm that afternoon. Great for a baseball game. Suddenly, the intercom phone buzzed. The teacher, Miss Melloncot, answered. She quickly came right to me and told me that a City Police car was waiting for me outside the school to get me to the City Hospital. "Your father has had a bad heart attack, and you must go now." The rest is but a blur in my mind. I remember stumbling down the steps to the waiting cruiser. No, it wasn't my uncle, but I do remember the officer calling him on the radio to let him know that we were enroute. I remember hearing my uncle's voice on the radio telling him, "this is a code 3 run!"

The car literally seemed to fly through the traffic. Suddenly we were at the City Hospital. My mom, my uncle, several cousins, my aunt, some cops, deputies, nurses, and some folks from the dealership were all crammed into the emergency waiting room. I was ushered quickly into the room by my mother. Dad looked ghastly ill. He had tubes sticking out from all over him. He managed a small smile when he saw me, and raised his hand a few inches. Just as quickly, I was ushered out. For the next week it was sheer chaos. If I wasn't at home doing something like dishes, washing, cleaning, entertaining morose quests, trying to console relatives, or trying to sneak out the back with my friends, I was at the hospital. The second night Dad took a turn for the worst. However, on the fourth day, he rallied. By the seventh day, he was almost back, and on the tenth day, he was up and about. On the twentieth day, he came home. Things were not as good then as they are now, but they were miles ahead of what they had been back when he had his first attack. He certainly looked a lot better than he had in a very long time. He seemed settled, with a purpose. Little did I know what that purpose was.

Two weeks later, I came home to find Dad there. His company car was gone, and in it's place was a new 1964 Chrysler Newport Sedan. Not an expensive car, but nicely equipped. I walked in full of questions, and he just held up his hand. In front of him were a lot of papers, some with the legal blue covers on them.

He had sold the dealership! Just like that! No consultations, no nothing! Just signed my legacy away! I was so angry that I turned almost purple with rage. I even swore in front of him for the first time. I couldn't even think straight I was so upset. He was stunned and hurt.

We did not communicate with each other for weeks. Of course, my nice job at the dealership was over. So was my involvement with Chrysler Corporation.

That summer, I got a job with the local newspaper, learning to operate a linotype machine that sets the news articles in the columns for the paper. It kept me away from the house, and it sometimes involved long hours when hot news stories came in. I didn't mind, since it meant I didn't have to see or try to avoid Dad.

It was late one night and I was on the loading dock taking a breather away from the machine. It used hot lead to set the type in and could be very uncomfortable sometimes.

I heard glass breaking down the ally, then someone shouting at someone else. Then a couple shots rang out. I ducked back inside and ran for the telephone. Within two minutes the city cops were there. One of them I knew. I had gone to school with his son and we played on the ball team together. He also knew me. I told him quickly what I had heard. He told me to get back inside. His partner went to the other side of the building to come in the other way. I acted like I was going to go back inside, instead I ducked down and squatted by the open door of the patrol car. I can remember its rumbling engine. Hey, after all, it was a 1964 Plymouth with a 383. I also recall the smells from inside. Stale cigarettes, sweat, some vomit, cheap vinyl seatscovers, oil, and gasoline.

The officer was slowly moving down the ally, checking behind the dumpsters and other things lining its side. In a flash, a man jumped up behind the officer and knocked him flat on the ground. My heart was pounding in my chest, yet, at the same time, I wasn't really scared. I was totally angry. Without thinking, I grabbed the radio microphone and called out that there was an officer down in the ally behind the Republic-Democrat and that his assailant was running North in the ally. Man! All hell broke loose! It seemed like it didn't take but a second and the entire police department was trying to scream into the ally!

The first cop came running up and asked if I was the one that called. When I said yes, he yelled at me to come with him so we could catch the bad guy. The second cop stopped to assist Officer Grant, which was the one that had taken the hit. I also saw two first aid guys heading for him. Well, that was all I needed. I easily kept up with the officer that called for me to come with him. We ran all the way down to the park. Everyone kept calling me the "eyeballer." I heard one say that I was a "goddamned hero"!

Officer Grant was not seriously hurt and in fact had come around just as we had run by. He came to the scene a few minutes after we had established a Command Post and the Lieutenant was there in charge. It didn't take long before a suspect was rounded up. He had robbed the drug store using a handgun, broken the rear window to get out, and then shot twice at the owner to keep him inside the building. Then he had hidden in the alley. When Officer Grant went by, well, you know the rest. I identified him, and so did the drug store owner.

I was given a hero's treatment. My uncle was very proud. That cemented for me what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I joined the police explorer post and worked assisting the dispatchers over that summer. In September, I was given a part time paying job as assistant dispatcher in the City Dispatch Center that controlled the Police and the Fire Department radio. Summer flew by, and then it was my Senior Year.

In the Spring, I was the hottest left handed side armed pitcher that class AAA ball had ever seen at my school. In the 4 years I had played ball, my Dad had never once come to see me pitch. Finally, on the second round of sectional finals, we were playing for the right to defend ourselves as last year's AAA champions against another semi finalist. I looked into the stands, and there was my father. I was so proud that I almost forgot what I was doing. My first pitch resulted in a line drive that caught me full on the nose. I remember nothing until I woke up in the hospital about two hours later with my nose resembling a mountain covered in gauze. Yes, Dad was there when I woke up. Things were said, and it all came out well.

My involvement with Chrysler Corporation ended. I didn't go back to work for the General Manager, and even if I had, I am sure that it would not have lasted.

Thanks to Wolven for proofing/editing this page.

Neon | 2009 Chrysler, Dodge, and Jeep Cars, Minivans, and Trucks | 2009 Driving Impressions | Challenger Review

Allpar covers all Chrysler and related vehicles* and the company itself. Use the menus on top of the pages!

Cars - Engines - History - Forums - Repairs - Reviews - Other car reviews - Us - Terms of Service - News - Random - Corrections/Additions

Allpar Search: Match ALL words Match ANY word

Please read the terms of use! * Mopar, Dodge, Jeep, Chrysler, HEMI, and certain other names are trademarks of Chrysler, LLC. We are not Chrysler. We are not responsible for the consequences of actions taken based on this site and make no guarantees regarding validity or applicability of information or advice. The Webmaster is not an expert. Copyright © 1998-2000, David Zatz; copyright © 2001-2008, Allpar LLC. All rights reserved. Recommend this page!