Cadillac advertisements from the mid 1940’s might shock those who don’t know the wartime history of the widely known “Standard of the World” luxury car manufacturer. Magazine ads with the Cadillac crest at the top showed military tanks crashing over landscapes firing their cannons at sunset, and planes flying over smoldering cities below declaring vengeance for the attack on Pearl Harbor. During World War II the top tier of the General Motors lineup churned out a variety of planes, tanks and killing machines, some of which later inspired styling elements that defined the brand. Following the war, Cadillac promptly resumed production of civilian cars in 1946, building coupes, sedans and limousines as if they had not been interrupted by a catastrophic world conflict.
Scroll through these six examples of Cadillac Advertisements circa 1944. The P-38 Lighting airplane (see ad #5) inspired the iconic tail-fins of the 1948 Cadillac body. [01 A-F]
The immediate postwar Cadillac cars from 1946-1947 are essentially moderately restyled 1942 models, with a little more art-deco flair. These cars are remarkably solid, as if they too might have to overcome a world of conflict like their militaristic ancestors. To the casual observer, the derelict 1947 Cadillac Series 62 sedan stamped with serial number FW-22606 looks like it has done just that. What’s strange about this car is that despite being the oldest car in my collection, it is the one I know the least about. This car’s history is a total mystery for the entire first half of its existence; its origins and whereabouts before approximately 1980 are unknown.
Cowl tag on my 1947 Cadillac Series 62 Sedan: Body No. FW-22606, Style 47-6269 (Series 62 type 69 without power windows), Trim No. 71 (blue-grey dual-cord cloth interior), Paint No. 11 (Seine Blue)
In the early 1980’s, a wealthy local (Rochester, NY) businessman went on a safari trip to Cape Town, South Africa with several friends. On the very last night of the trip, the group was in a limo on the way to dinner and the limo driver took a wrong turn. Somewhere along the mistaken alternate route, they passed a used car dealership. Sitting in the corner of the lot was a postwar sculpture on wheels: a light blue Cadillac sedan with a sticker in the windshield that read “$2500”. The businessman became obsessed that night, and the following morning on the way to the airport, he insisted that the limo driver retrace his accidental detour from the previous night. They drove around Cape Town until they located the lot with the tired Cadillac. They found it with approximately an hour to spare before they might have missed their flight back to the United States.
The salesman at the used car dealership reported what little he knew: that the Cadillac had been brought to South Africa by a film studio for use in a movie, and then the studio had abandoned the car in Cape Town rather than transport it back home (it is not yet known when it arrived in South Africa, or which studio brought it, or what film it was for). They struck a deal: if the businessman sent a check from the United States, the salesman would ensure that the Cadillac was loaded onto a boat and container-shipped back to the United States aboard a commercial vessel. The check was sent, and the car in turn was delivered to the docks at the Port of Cape Town. Several months after their first encounter, the Cadillac arrived at the Port of Baltimore in Maryland. The truck drivers at the port allegedly got in a fight over who was going to deliver the magnificent car to its final destination of Rochester, NY.
Upon delivery, the owner and his family piled into the car and drove it up the street where it promptly stalled out and died, and a policeman stopped to ask why it had no license plates or registration. They laughed about it after the officer learned it had just arrived from half a world away, so he agreed to let them have the car towed home for repairs. The Cadillac was registered to the company itself rather than to the owner or a family member, and it was later driven to a high school prom by one of the owners' sons, but otherwise it saw little use. In 1987, it was parked and never driven or registered again. After a few years of being moved around inside the company warehouse and being in the way of operations as the business grew, it was relocated outside behind the building. When it was in the way yet again, it was moved up front behind the chain-link fence facing Brighton-Henrietta Townline Road.
The weathered Cadillac became a static roadside relic blankly staring out at the world it was no longer able to enjoy. It was reduced to a 2.5 ton sculpture of steel and chrome and glass perched on rotted ancient tires, lurched perilously towards the front driver’s corner on an over-extended rear suspension. Three decades after her last ride, a local high school student passed by in a green 1963 Chevrolet Bel-Air and slammed on the brakes. A few blaring horns and a tire screech later, the student was in the parking lot on the public side of the fence marveling at the now rusting and water-damaged Cadillac, trying to assess if it was reasonably salvageable. The high school student was me: I was 17 years old at the time.
As seen from the road, the Cadillac decaying behind the fence - picture taken summer of 2015
It’s usually not possible to narrow down to the exact date and time someone first encounters something meaningful in their life. However, I do know that the first time I saw the neglected Cadillac was about 7:40 AM on the way to the GVACS (Genesee Valley Antique Car Society) classic car show at the Rochester Institute of Technology on 29 July 2007. A flash of chrome and a giant deteriorating metal face behind the fence caught my attention. I stopped in the same spot almost every year - for almost 10 years - and kneeled across the chain link fence opposite the derelict machine, and told it: “You deserve better”. It was a 1947 Cadillac Series 62 Sedan, a base model car in an elegant color named Seine Blue after the river in France.
It wasn’t until 2015 that I got any closer (or had additional funds to justify even considering purchasing a project of this scale). I stopped by on a Saturday, and a weekend employee let me behind the fence to explore the car more thoroughly. My then-girlfriend looked it over and said, “What would you do with this?” and I answered her, “I would save it.” Several things were apparent from my brief inspection: the frame was spotless and floors equally solid, the body was remarkably intact, all of the windows were accounted for with only a few cracks. The chrome trim was also all present, albeit in deteriorating condition. It had no fender skirts, small marker lights rather than fog lamps, and small wheel-center hubcaps (“poverty caps”) in lieu of the more popular full-frame wheel cover option. In 1947, this car would have cost about $2,500, when a Chevrolet Deluxe cost about $1,300. The car was almost entirely original, and all of the damage was top-down weathering from what turned out to be 29 years of exposure, neglect and heartbreak. It looked much worse than its actual condition.
My intense interest in what looked like a lost cause project set the stage for the people in my life at the time to decide that - sometimes - Mike Lempert made what looked (to everybody outside my closest circle of friends) like poor and impulsive life choices. It didn’t matter that I had been interested in this car for almost 10 years already, or that a thorough examination had revealed it was much nicer than it looked; nobody was going to see me bring this car home and think “yes, that looks like a well-considered choice of project to tackle.” The Cadillac’s beauty was masked by a significant layer of surface rust, flaking paint and pitted chrome, accented by a moldy interior and flat tires. Most people saw only a tired machine with a costly repair bill. I instead saw an alternate reality: a postwar luxury car proudly powering down the road led by a chrome flying goddess on its nose. I took a single photograph that day of my 1974 Impala through the windshield of the battered Cadillac, with the large chain-link fence in between – the first and most literal of the many barriers to come between the Cadillac and the open road.
Picture taken from inside the Cadillac of my 1974 Impala, summer of 2015
I had the weekend forklift operator contact the owner, who was also the owner of the building and property where it was parked. The owner’s son showed up in a dirty BMW X5 SUV, and when I offered him $1,500, he laughed and said it wasn’t for sale. One week after the conversation with the owner’s son, a friend sent me a Craigslist ad: the Cadillac, a few terrible photographs that did no justice to the car whatsoever, and an asking price of $5,000.
I was furious. On the other hand, nobody in their right mind was going to approach a car that hadn’t run in three decades and offer that much money, so I credit the terrible presentation with my ultimate success when I showed up almost exactly one year later and raised my offer to $2,500 – the same amount it probably cost in 1947, and the same amount the past owner had paid for it. Throughout its 72 year life to that point, It had only ever been sold for $2,500 over and over again in different decades. The owner’s son was not pleased, but we shook hands on 15 June 2016, and dragged the car out of its parking spot with seized brakes and flat tires using a 10,000-lb forklift. We then reversed direction, threw two wood pallets behind the rear bumper, and forced the car up onto the trailer with the forklift.
Day of rescue: 15 June 2016, note the wood pallets on the forklift in the background used to force the Cadillac onto the trailer
Rather than go home that night, we headed right to the Log Cabin Restaurant cruise night in Macedon. Halfway there, my brother looked in his mirror at the monster on his trailer and sent me a text: “Good purchase this thing is cool as hell.” I sent a text back: “She’s a long way gone but we’re gonna bring her back.” I set the phone down, and then picked it up again and sent one more text: “I named her Topaz.” I hadn’t told anybody yet because I didn’t want to jinx the sale, but I had picked the name for the similarly-colored blue precious gem. It is extremely rare to find naturally created blue topaz, and the car was a different kind of gem, also a result of being subjected to intense natural forces.
When we got home that night we spent over an hour pushing and pulling the seized machine to no avail. I ended up strapping the car to the bumper of my 1974 Impala and dragging the Cadillac off the trailer until the back wheels hit the ground, and then my brother dragged the trailer out from under the rest of the car. We then pushed her the rest of the way into the garage with the Impala (that moment where the two cars faced off with each other in the entrance to my garage serves as the background and cover image of this website).
Topaz and Roz stare each other down after the 1947 Cadillac (left) was pushed into the garage by the 1974 Impala (right)
Days later I went to the auto parts store and purchased a 6-volt battery, and when I connected it that evening, I made a shocking discovery: all of the lights, gauges, horn and radio worked immediately. I took the picture below, which resonated deeply with my love for Stephen King’s story Christine. My relationship with the Cadillac was eerily parallel to Arnie’s vision for Christine (the possessed 1957 Plymouth Fury). The Cadillac seemingly wanted – and needed – for me to bring it back.
22 June 2016: Topaz lights up for the first time in 29 years with a new battery
Over the next two years, I tinkered, breaking things loose, polishing chrome, and trying every week to force the motor to un-seize. When that proved an impossible task, we brought the car to Horsepower Motorworks in the fall of 2018. They thought the same as I did: it was in remarkably complete and solid condition despite looking like hell. The car had already been accepted in the 2019 Buffalo Motorama the following March, so we had 6 months to complete the project.
29 October 2018: Topaz delivered to Horsepower Motorworks
Only a few weeks into the project, everything went sideways. It may be no surprise that the original engine was toast after 32 years of neglect; the engine was seized, and so badly rusted that it was fused to the Hydramatic transmission. The 90-degree 346ci “flathead” motor was perhaps the most interesting part of the entire car, and the cost to tear it down and rebuild it would have been astronomical. The cast iron unit weighed about 850-lbs, and was produced by Cadillac in several generations and displacements beginning in 1914. The last “flathead” (named for its distinctly flat heads with spark plugs mounted in an exposed row through the top of the heads) was produced in 1948. The “flathead” was retired in favor of the overhead-valve 331ci V8 that in 1950 proved its value as a replacement by taking 10th and 11th place at LeMans courtesy of famed racing driver Briggs Cunningham [02]. But the history of the 346ci “flathead” extends beyond the realm of luxury cars: the color of this engine from the factory is not coincidentally army green, but rather deliberately so because the “flathead” also had a military application.
No civilian automobiles were built in the United States during 1943, 1944, or 1945 - but each manufacturer did produce material for the war effort. Cadillac retooled to construct military tank engines for the M24 Chaffee light tank, the M-19 anti-aircraft gun carriage, and the M5 Stuart tank. Some of these tanks and other vehicles were fully assembled by divisions of General Motors such that Cadillac is considered the primary contractor and credited with the total construction of the tanks (and not just the engines). Cadillac also produced engines for other military vehicles being constructed by other contractors [03]. These motors were essentially a reconfigured variation of the civilian 346ci block, and were even paired to modified Hydramatic transmissions similar to the civilian cars. It is not so simple that a tank engine could be literally placed in a car without some modifications, but the technical differences are few (the location of serial and casting numbers, and the configuration of the cooling system, among other things). So while it’s not an exact truth that my sedan is “powered by a tank engine”, it’s hardly an extraordinary reach either. For more information on the structure and inner workings of this engine, see the Cadillac Service Manual excerpt at the end of this article [04].
"Tank Chassis Units" instructional manual showing the twin-Cadillac engine layout of the M24 Light Tank; Scroll right for specifications
That said, when it came time to find a replacement engine on a limited schedule, I panicked. Topaz was going to be frightfully over budget regardless, and possibly not ready for the 2019 Buffalo Motorama if a solution didn’t present itself. We discussed transplanting a standard LS motor from a junkyard Corvette, but that removed the single most interesting historical piece of a car with an otherwise fascinating history. The Cadillac Northstar performance variant was another option, but in order to accept a modern engine, the entire drivetrain and motor mounts would need to be reconfigured. In truth: it was a boring solution anyways, but with rare exception, Cadillac flatheads aren't just sitting around in crates waiting to be put to use [05]. And then, at the very last minute, my friend Greg Pennes contacted me and told me a gentleman in Florida had completely rebuilt a 1947 Cadillac 346 flathead. Even better: he had modified it to accept an alternator and 12V electric, and also a 700-4R transmission. It was a great motor, but after driving his custom Ford truck 2,000 miles he discovered that he couldn't do the one thing he really wanted to do with his super cool 150-hp Cadillac flathead: go fast. He pulled the motor, replaced it with an LS plant, and put the flathead up for sale the very week that Greg and I discussed possible solutions for Topaz. Within days, the motor was shipped up to Horsepower and installed in the Cadillac with a freshly rebuilt custom 700-4R by Keene Transmissions. Restoration expert Scott Riter called me days before the Motorama to tell me that when they hooked everything up, the car fired up so quickly it startled him. The Cadillac had been waiting for this moment, and in Scott's extensive experience, rarely did a fresh motor install come to life to so suddenly and smoothly.
The morning of 27 March 2019, less than 24 hours before we were scheduled to depart for Buffalo, I ran over to the shop when summoned by Scott and drove Topaz around the Horsepower Motorworks parking lot missing the hood, the entire front clip, all of the lights and most of the front end trim. Satisfied, I said to Scott “put it back together - nothing has to work, it just has to look finished”. The following morning a casual observer would have had no idea that the car had been in pieces for 6 months right up to only a few hours prior.
On 28 March 2019, 32 years after being parked, Topaz drove off the trailer and onto the Buffalo Motorama show floor under her own power. She was on display with my grandfather’s WWII army uniform at her side, a Family Radiation Kit from the Bendix corporation, a Civil Defense Family Survival Kit, and an original “RESTRICTED” Tank Chassis Units instructional service manual from the Office of the Army Instructor. A miniature model of the M24 tank was perched on her fender, referencing her family history.
Miniature M24 tank model on display with the Cadillac
At one point during the show, a gentleman ran over and told me he recognized the car, which he had passed once where it sat behind the fence in Henrietta. In fact, he had also driven one of the Cadillac M24 tanks in combat, and he told me that one day he was fired at by enemy forces and the tank was struck several times. When he got back to base they discovered that one of the two flathead engines had been destroyed in the attack. This meant that the other single remaining engine had pushed the 39,500-lb tank home without the driver even realizing that was the case. He was ecstatic to see the car returned to service, especially with the proper engine.
Topaz on display at Buffalo Motorama, with Jeanette in the background
The team at Horsepower had temporarily reassembled the Cadillac with such skill that following the extraordinary weekend at Motorama, I was shocked when the Motorama hosts announced at the awards ceremony that Topaz had been selected for an award for the outstanding presentation of an historical artifact.
The award for “Outstanding Unrestored” admittedly wasn’t quite a fair title given the newly rebuilt engine and updated transmission, even though the drivetrain was installed to look as correct-to-1947 as possible while still allowing for regular driving without issues. Regardless, almost every other part on the car was original, including the entire hydraulic lever-arm rear suspension and complete but damaged interior. The few items that were not original were carefully selected to replicate the 1947 appearance, down to the Coker Firestone Vintage Bias-Ply 7.00-15 blackwall tires, which at any show set it apart from derelict budget-build “rat rods” on weird-looking wheels with contemporary hot rod tires.
Cadillac script in lieu of vertical Art Deco font distinguishes the profile of the 1947 model from the 1946; Freshly polished center hubcaps accent the body-color matching wheels
At a glance, it looks like Adele could have written “Hello” about Topaz, which is certainly one of the only (mostly) unrestored postwar Cadillacs still in regular service after a third-of-a-century hiatus. The least correct feature aside from the 12-volt alternator is probably the exhaust, which was cut off under the front passenger seat instead of being run correctly out the rear of the car. This was done because when the Horsepower team asked me “what do you want to do with the exhaust?” I said “I want her to sound like she looks - like she’s come back from the next realm”. The un-muffled metallic grumble of a midcentury flathead is quite possibly the coolest sound ever - and maybe also the sound that the members of the band Evanescence hear when they sleep. Topaz absolutely sounds like she looks: a bit angry at having been brought back to life from her long slumber. One of my favorite moments from the Motorama weekend was when I started the Cadillac to drive it back onto the trailer, and when it roared to life the crowd of people standing in front of it spun around and one of them shouted, “That thing actually runs!”
Following Motorama, Topaz was returned to Horsepower Motorworks, where her interior was stripped back down and reassembled with complete 12-volt wiring to replace the heavily deteriorated cloth-wrapped aluminum original 6-volt electrical system. Aside from the brakes, the brake lines and fuel lines, and gas tank (and the already replaced motor and transmission), the rest of the body, interior and suspension remains totally unrestored. I drove her home in October of 2019, and since then I have often taken her to work at a comfortable 60mph on the 490 expressway. She drives beautifully, although negotiating this car through traffic requires every limb and every ounce of driver attention. There is no power steering, nor power brakes, nor any driver assist of any kind.
Topaz with interior removed for re-wiring in the Horsepower Motorworks service bay
A brief visit to local Cadillac dealership Valley Cadillac revealed that when sized up against the present day CT6 flagship, the 1947 Cadillac is a full 18” longer, 9” higher and 1,000-lbs heavier than her modern-day counterpart – an order of magnitude larger that is difficult to convey in pictures or words. The 1947 Series 62 was the most popular model of its day, with about 35,000 units made that year. Unlike the modern CT6, the Series 62 is built over a massive 6” steel I-beam X-frame that looks like it could double as a building canopy at an antique train station. The 1947 Cadillac weighs approximately 5,000-lbs driving around.
Topaz sizing up a 2020 Cadillac CT6 at Valley Cadillac
Not certified: I have no association with the local Cadillac dealership, but the Valley Cadillac Certified Pre-Owned building did make a playful backdrop for pictures
As of this writing, Topaz and I have driven approximately 1,500 miles around town and to car shows and cruise nights. After hearing her story, famed motorsports artist Simon Ward called me and asked if he could produce a painting of Topaz just for me, which I agreed to. Simon presented the completed painting at the 2020 Saratoga Automobile Auction where Topaz was invited as a display. It was also one of the first non-motorsports paintings by the artist (who deviated from racing during the pandemic to refocus on art-deco automobiles after starting with the Cadillac). My brother Sam developed the concept for the painting: Topaz sitting at a drive-in movie theatre overlooking a city below, watching her younger self on the screen driving through an unknown South African landscape. We do not yet know what movie she was featured in, but if you think you have any information about her early history, please do reach out!
Original painting by Simon Ward, acrylic on canvas; if you compare to the photographs, note the incredible detail and accuracy of the rust and decay!
Cruising on the Lake Ontario State Parkway, fall of 2019; photo by Sam Lempert
An immense amount of research will be required in order to flush out the early history of this mysterious Cadillac. Even without knowing her origins, her strange story paired with her successful resurrection has been powerful enough to capture imaginations and garner reactions of excitement everywhere she goes. This car has twice in her life had such a commanding presence that her two known owners have both gone to great lengths to rescue her from the side of the road. Topaz is the manifestation of postwar American power, style and excess, and her return to service after three decades of neglect reinforces a singular truth that perpetuates the classic car hobby: machines don’t die.
Michael Lempert | The Anachronist
Rochester, NY
2021.10.28
P.S.: Special thank you to:
> My brother Sam, for trailering her the beast all over the region for repairs and car shows
> Scott Riter and the Horsepower Motorworks team for a superb resurrection
> Talented Photographer Bailey Delelys, for the awesome set of resurrection-themed images featured below
Afterlife: Topaz at the entrance of Mt. Hope Cemetery in Rochester, NY; Photo by Bailey Delelys (IG: @baileythecoolguy)
Topaz at night; photo by Bailey Delelys (IG: @baileythecoolguy)
Faith: Topaz at the abandoned funerary chapel, second entrance to Mt. Hope Cemetery, Rochester, NY; Photo by Bailey Delelys (IG: @baileythecoolguy)
Resources and additional information:
All photographs are taken by and property of the author, except where noted otherwise. Please ask permission before using any images, either directly from the author or by others where applicable.
[01B]: Unknown
[01D]: https://picclick.com/1944-WW-2-AD-CADILLAC-War-Production-Tanks-254200844122.html#&gid=1&pid=1
[04]: Below, Excerpt from 1947 Cadillac service manual (pages 45-60) detailing the construction and workings of the flathead 346ci V8 engine; scroll right for additional pages