The Collector
An American whose fleet includes a fire engine and an ice-cream truck recounts a night spent hairdrying damp $100 bills to buy back his Cobra 289
When Chuck Spielman invites you to visit his refreshingly diverse collection in San Diego, California, it’s like holding a ticket for an automotive time machine.
As you cruise down Roselle Street you’re struck by the banality of the buildings. Rows of anonymous blocks house machine shops, and engineering and technology businesses. There’s even a party inflatables company. Chuck Spielman’s facility, Only Yesterday, looks much like the others. But this white 30,000-square-foot rectangular building belies the trove of treasures stored inside.
‘Welcome to my world,’ says Chuck as he greets me at the door, wearing a wide smile. It’s immediately obvious that this glass-walled office – crammed wall-to-wall with antique toy cars, trophies and overstuffed sofas overlooking an immense, brightly lit showroom – is not your average breeze-block collector’s garage. It’s an Aladdin’s cave of automotive history that spans multiple decades, marques and models.
‘There isn’t really a particular theme or reasoning behind my collecting; I have no particular philosophy,’ says Chuck. ‘I collect what I love and I love them all. I think I’m a little eccentric and my collection reflects that.’ Eccentric is indeed the word that comes to mind when you walk into the main showroom. The walls surrounding the parade of cars are painted a bright Fifties turquoise and are covered with plaques, neons, posters and lined with all manner of gas pumps, Coke fridges and oil cans. ‘I’ve been collecting for over 40 years and it’s become a labour of love. The cars are the central focus of the collection but I like to encircle them with relics of their era, to set them in a time warp so that you walk into the time period of a specific car.’
Chuck’s father was a Chevrolet dealer in New York for over 50 years and Chuck grew up on the showroom floor. He went into real estate in New York City and then moved to California in 2001 with his wife Amy and eldest daughter Laura, who together run the back office. ‘I’m retired now,’ he grins, ‘so with these two behind me I can kick tyres all day long!’ Amy, who joins us for the tour, rolls her eyes at him. ‘Actually I keep him in check,’ she says.
The Cobra that almost escaped
The first car we come across – a brilliant red 1964 Cobra 289 – is parked front and centre of the showroom. It was the first car Chuck bought in 1984. ‘I paid $36,000, which was a chunk of change in those days. It has 25,000 original miles on it.’ The Cobra became part of the family and his kids learned to shift gears for him as he cruised the local neighbourhood. Then in 1988 a buyer offered him $70,000 for it. ‘I said no. Then he offered me more. I still said no. But finally he offered more than double his original offer, and I caved.’ Much to the chagrin of his family, Chuck sold the car – and regretted it immediately. But as luck would have it, ten years later the buyer offered to sell the car back to Chuck for the same amount he had originally paid for it. The only conditions were that it had to be cash and it had to be within 24 hours. Amy suggested Chuck call Joe, a friend who kept cash at home. Chuck followed Joe into the basement of his house and watched as he opened a safe in the floor and pulled out stacks of $100 bills. ‘They were soaking wet – so we got two hairdryers and spent the night blow-drying every $100 bill one by one.’ Chuck got his Cobra back.
A sense of Good Humor
From the sublime to the ‘seriously?’, the next car we visit is a 1955 Good Humor Chevrolet ice-cream truck – which happens to be his wife’s favourite vehicle in the collection. Good Humor used Ford for its ice-cream trucks for years and only commissioned straight-six single-carburettor Chevys for about 18 months, rendering this immaculate specimen especially rare. ‘The freezer still works,’ exclaims Amy, popping open the rear hatch, ‘and listen to this…’ She hops up into the cab and winds up the siren, which explodes with earsplitting exuberance. She then launches the musical recording of It’s a Small World After All and bobs enthusiastically in the driver’s seat. ‘It reminds me so much of my childhood in New York,’ she beams, ‘I still like to ride around here with the music playing. You should see all the old guys come running out of their offices to buy ice-cream.’
Indeed, all of the cars in this private/appointment-only collection are running and, most importantly, driven. On the wall in the workshop that abuts the main showroom is a Driver’s Rotation log. Every vehicle is pulled out, checked over and then driven around at least once a month. ‘It’s my favourite part of the job,’ says Bob, Chuck’s sidekick and full-time mechanic. Bob came to see the collection with the Cobra Club 12 years ago and returned the next day asking for a job. Chuck happily obliged and he’s been there ever since. ‘We pull them out and make them live again,’ says Bob. ‘It’s quite the kick bombing down the freeway in a 1945 Army Jeep or a 1956 300 SC Mercedes convertible. Folks love it.’
From mint choc-chip to a majestic Merc
Speaking of which, the 1956 300 SC is parked next-but-one to the ice-cream truck. Only 53 of these majestic Mercedes were ever built and it was eye-wateringly expensive in the day at $12,500, double the price of a 300 SL Gullwing. ‘I just fell in love with this car when I saw it,’ says Chuck as he points out the burr wood walnut interior, exquisite fitted leather luggage set and chrome brightwork. ‘I had to have it – but it took me six months to raise the money and I sold eight of my Fifties cars to pay for it, leaving only my 1957 Chevy fuel-injected convertible.’
The pseudo-duesy – a purist’s nemesis
By this point I’m starting to think Chuck was a purist, but parked between the 300 SC and the Good Humor ice-cream truck is a 1932 Duesenberg II – or what looks like one, with a replica steel-reinforced glassfibre body fitted on to a Ford van chassis. ‘I wanted a Duesy I could drive, with the underpinnings of a modern vehicle,’ he explains. This creation took eight years to complete and features a Ford V10 engine with automatic transmission, and independent suspension regulated by four levers under the driver’s seat. ‘Bob and I set all the levers to our satisfaction, open the doors and off we go. People are blown away when they see it! But now let me show you the real thing…’
The heavyweights – figurative and literal
In a separate showroom, decked out in minute detail as a Thirties car dealership, there stands a bevy of beauties that takes my breath away. At the back of the room between a 1930 Duesenberg – which won Best in Class at the Pebble Beach Concours d’elegance in 2011 – and a 1932 Chrysler Imperial convertible, there stands a 1923 American La France Chemical Hose Pumper Firetruck. Bought new by the Phoenix Stroudsburg fire department of Pennsylvania in 1923, the truck was in active service for many years before it retired in the Sixties and was acquired by a collector who had it restored. Chuck bought it four years ago after an arduous quest to find the perfect firetruck.
‘As soon as I saw it I knew. It’s a piece of rolling art, a sculpture complete with 24-carat gold leaf decoration,’ he says as he points to the embellishments on the bumpers and bonnet. Once at the scene of a fire, its firemen would break acid-filled glass capsules stored inside canisters of soda water, pull a pin on the casing and agitate the canister to build a head of 150lb of pressure to pump water on to the fire. The 816ci (13,372cc) engine with a magneto and distributor dual ignition is, Bob assures me, the easiest engine to start of the entire collection. ‘The grandkids just love it,’ says Amy as she climbs aboard and blasts the siren. How does it drive? ‘Like a cement truck!’ says Chuck.
Imperial bloodline
Now Laura, Chuck and Amy’s daughter, joins us with the express intent to show us her favourite car in the collection – the 1932 Chrysler Imperial Le Baron-bodied Convertible Coupé, one of 28 built and one of six still in existence. ‘We’ve had this 18 years,’ says Laura. ‘To me it is the epitome of elegance. When I drive this I feel like a movie star with a flowing scarf and Gatsby pedigree.’ She’s got a point – it’s pure automotive jewellery, with its chromed accoutrements, plush leather upholstery and finely bevelled glass mirrors. Much to Laura’s dismay, Chuck sold the car after receiving an offer he couldn’t refuse – but at the last minute the deal fell through. ‘I’d probably never have spoken to him again if it hadn’t,’ she jokes (I think).
Survivors
The last stop is where Chuck maintains his personal tribute to the military, and specifically to soldiers of WWII and the Vietnam War. As well as a light helicopter used to extract the wounded from battlefields there’s a 1945 Willys Jeep that features the same unit markings as the military unit Chuck served with in Vietnam. ‘We belong together,’ he said leaning on the Jeep. ‘I’ve had it for 18 years; it’s not going anywhere.’
Despite this proclamation, it’s the 1964 Cobra 289 that Chuck would keep above all. ‘We have history. It’s a monster but we have an agreement. If I treat it with respect, it will get me home safely in one piece.’