"Phantom" '55: Inheriting a History

I worked as a detail technician for about 9 years at a regional car wash chain, where I started at the age of 16. I developed a reputation as the kid who loved and cared about old and special interest cars, which resulted in opportunities to work on and drive some very unique machines. From time to time, I would tell the owners to reach out to me if they ever decided to sell their vehicles. I was caught very much off guard when one owner actually did call me back in the summer of 2013, and that call ultimately led to the acquisition of a car that is now a very special part of my collection.

I met Jeff Burdick only a few minutes after he arrived for a complete interior/exterior detail in his incredibly loud (both in sound and appearance) two-tone green custom 1955 DeSoto Fireflite Sportsman. This car was the manifestation of mid-century power, style and excess. The owner however presented as the complete opposite of his car; a quiet, polite and casually dressed man with a gentle smile. Jeff’s outrageous coupe had a sneering grin of chrome teeth, salt-flat disc wheel covers, and a dramatic “color-spear” that started at the back wheels and slashed up the side to the front corners. It was the epitome of the classic American custom car, and breathed the heavy staccato pulse of a powerful V8 engine. It looked like it had rolled out of a scene from American Graffiti.

The detail shop manager on duty the day this car came in was a combative and arrogant man, and when I started to approach the customer booth as soon as the DeSoto pulled up, the manager told me to go back inside the building. I knew better than to allow him to scare off the owner of a special car, so I quickly handed off the task I had been assigned and followed the manager into the booth. Jeff had relayed that his car was a DeSoto. I entered the booth just in time to watch the manager open up the database and, upon typing in “D – E – ” for the make of the vehicle, see only one option in the database. He looked up from the computer at Jeff and asked “Are you sure it’s not a DeLorean?”

I used this opportunity to interrupt and tell the manager to get out of the way; I was confident the customer could properly identify his own classic car. I explained to the manager that most folks outside of the hobby may never have heard of the DeSoto marque, which served as a mid-range luxury offering from Chrysler (approximately equal to Oldsmobile at General Motors) from 1928 until 1961 when the name was discarded. Jeff smiled, perhaps surprised that the then-23-year-old detail tech knew what a DeSoto was at all. I believe he understood my motives: to protect the machine from the average 16 year old employee that did not at all care about his car. He then handed me the keys and said to the manager “I want him to work on my car”. He warned me not to go too heavy on the throttle, a completely unnecessary warning also issued by the car itself when it snarled to life upon turning the key. That is a sound that will never get old.

I spent several hours detailing the DeSoto while Jeff sat nearby and explained to me bits of the car’s story and the work he had done to it. The interior upholstery featured gaudy 1970s sparkle-green seats with a white vinyl border and a sparkle-green shifter knob to match. There was a custom chrome bullet in the center of the steering wheel with a copper surround, but almost the entire dashboard was original and in excellent condition. The exterior looked mostly original, dressed in two unusual shades of green (factory original colors for this car). Aggressively forward-slanted 1956 headlight bezels took the place of the more round 1955 pieces. The rear fender skirts were modified 1950 Mercury parts that were bolted on at an angle to match the dramatic DeSoto factory side trim. A factory option MOPAR spotlight was mounted through the driver’s ‘A’ pillar. Both the hood and custom continental kit were punctured with louvers for a bit of flair. The overall car with the custom spare tire assembly measured over 19 feet in length, and weighed in the neighborhood of 4,500-lbs.

The real gem was the engine: a 412-hp Chevrolet crate motor cleverly dressed up and disguised to present as a Chrysler big block complete with functioning spark plug inserts through the top of the valve covers and huge tubes forcing air from the nose into the custom chrome air cleaner. I would become completely obsessed after hearing the sound of it start up again when Jeff drove away. He had clearly spent years finessing the details of this car. When I handed the keys back I included a personal business card, and I told him that if he ever wanted to sell this car, he should call me first.

Only a few weeks later, I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize. It was Jeff, and he proposed that we sit down to discuss my casual proposal that I hadn’t in a million years considered he would take seriously (even though I had meant it seriously). Maybe a week after that, on a gray afternoon after I got home from work, Jeff came zipping over in his Miata convertible from his home about 40 minutes away. I had set up two antique folding lawn chairs in front of the garage, where we sat and talked for probably 2 hours. Jeff brought two full binders of pictures, sketches, receipts, records and specifications that he had collected over his 44 years as guardian of the DeSoto – the sheer volume of information on this car is incredibly special.

Jeff didn’t just come to show and tell, however. He interviewed me, and he asked tough questions so he could analyze answers that can’t really be faked. Why did I want a DeSoto? What other cars did I aim to collect? Did I plan to sell any of my cars? Could I guarantee that the DeSoto would only ever be stored indoors, and never driven in inclement weather? Could I afford to maintain this car to his standards? Even more importantly, and before he asked me, I told him that it was only fair (since he had several children) that if ever the family wanted the car for an event – a graduation, a wedding, a car show – that I would do my best to make it available. This car was part of their story whether or not it was technically registered to someone else in the future. He asked me if I thought his price was fair, and I agreed. His goal that afternoon was not to sell me the car, but rather to begin putting together a transition plan so that when the time came that he was no longer able to enjoy or care for his beloved DeSoto, he would already know that it would be cared for – he just had to make a phone call.

It may seem absurd to folks outside the hobby that a classic car owner might put so much weight on a future owner’s habits and intentions. Even though he and I never communicated this exact thought in person, we both shared an understanding: that we do not really own these machines, but serve as stewards of their care for one brief moment of their lives. The machines have lives of their own as they are passed from owner to owner, and they will surely outlive us. That my youngest car was built the same year I was born is a testament to that. That I had records or research on all but one of my own cars was a sign to Jeff that we were unusually like-minded. He needed to know that all of his work would not be undone.

I believe Jeff could tell by the way that I told my own stories about the cars that surrounded us during this conversation that in selling me his car, I would of course pay a fair price for the vehicle, but beyond that, I would inherit the responsibility of sharing its history – and that was the most important thing to both of us.

Thanks largely to the detailed information in the two binders that Jeff had assembled, we know that this car – 1955 DeSoto Fireflite serial number 50361427 in Lexington Green over Cove Green two-tone – made its public debut in Rochester, NY on 23 July 1955 at Simmons Motors Corp., which occupied 336 East Avenue (the building still stands as of this writing). Mr. James W. Paine and his wife Margaret, who lived at 151 Scio Street, proudly returned home with one of the most flashy and stylish cars of the time. Sadly James passed away unexpectedly in 1957, and although Mrs. Paine did not drive, she refused to part with the car. Instead of selling it or giving it to a family member, she packed the DeSoto away in temperature controlled storage with only 6,800 miles on the odometer, where it would remain for 17 years.

Jeanette in front of 336 East Avenue, the same building where she was purchased new in 1955.

Following the death of Margaret in 1974, her niece and nephew-in-law (Don Ariano, the radio engineer for 95 WBBF) pulled the car out of storage, returned it to service briefly and enjoyed many trips around town, and then listed it for sale in the local classifieds. At that time, a 26 year old DeSoto enthusiast named Jeff Burdick came across the listing in the paper, and although he fully expected to be disappointed in a lengthy search to replace a very unique 1955 DesSoto Coupe he had growing up, he went to see the car anyways.

As it happens, the Ariano’s DeSoto was nearly identical to the two-tone blue Firedome custom coupe that Jeff’s father had purchased used in 1959. When Jeff’s father upgraded to a 1965 Dodge, the blue DeSoto became Jeff’s own first car, which he drove until 1970 when he regrettably sold it following mechanical troubles. He immediately began looking for a suitable replacement, and in 1974 he found the two-tone green coupe in the paper with basically only two years’ worth of miles and in excellent condition. Jeff purchased the car. The four years between his old blue Firedome and the new green Fireflite would be the only period in his life after 1959 that a DeSoto was not present in his family.

From 1974 until about 1992, the Burdick family cruised around in this classy car “Styled for Tomorrow” as the Groucho Marx ads had boasted, and during this time Jeff started modifying the car towards a final goal of a mid-1950s Virgil Exner “forward Look” inspired factory-show-car tribute. In the early 1990s, the DeSoto ended up back in the garage while family matters took precedence, and there it sat for a second 17 year slumber. When she emerged from her second extended hibernation, Jeff immediately resumed building his dream car.

He designed a custom continental kit (the spare tire assembly at the rear) recessed into the bumper with a two-position lever allowing it to tilt forward to clear the trunk. As mentioned earlier, he replaced the blunt 1955 headlight surrounds with sharper 1956 pieces. He also shaved off most of the exterior badging for a cleaner look, and finished the exterior off with custom fender skirts and decorative Moon Eyes side pipes that ran under the doors and terminated before the rear wheels. The interior upholstery, which was all entirely custom materials, was actually applied in the same patterns and sections as a factory DeSoto interior. The attention to detail is what makes this such a unique car; Jeff wanted people to think that it was possible that Chrysler had commissioned this car as a display piece for a mid-century show circuit, so many of the details are inspired by or taken directly from other later Chrysler designs.

The last major modifications were to the drivetrain. Both Jeff and his mechanic who executed Jeff’s vision for the car told me that they had been having a lot of issues with the original Hemi. Although he knew that removing the original powerplant would generally detract from the future market value of the car, he also knew that he wanted more power than was feasibly attainable from the tired engine. Ultimately, he settled on the Chevrolet 383 Stroker, but true to his vision, the engine is disguised using dummy valve covers that Jeff’s wife Dianna hand-painted the CHRYSLER FIREPOWER lettering on herself.

To the casual observer, the engine bay is a custom Chrysler big block, except with about twice the power at half the cost of what would have been involved in modifying the Hemi, and on an engine where parts are available at every corner automotive shop. The engine is mated to a 200-4R transmission and 9” posi rear end with 3.70 gears. All four corners also sport disc brakes from the 70s. While all-original classic car purists will cry about this hot rod composition (and I lean towards purist myself), Jeff intended to build a car he could drive anywhere, anytime, and not have to worry about sourcing parts if he broke down. He achieved exactly that. Driving the car is immensely fun, it sounds incredible and even an accidental over-application of the accelerator can result in a tire-screeching launch.

Jeff returned home after the late summer meeting at my house in 2013 without any sort of formal agreement – we had only an understanding that he would stand by his word to call me, and I would stand by mine to respond. Weeks later, just to make sure, I wrote him a letter. I thanked him for his apparent confidence in me, confirmed that I would follow through when the time came (and that for both of our sakes, hoping that was not too soon), and I included a check for $19.55 (for the 1955 DeSoto) as a form of down-payment, for him to cash at his leisure if he ever felt it necessary. I told him to keep my letter and the check in the glove box in case anything should ever happen suddenly lest he lose the opportunity to contact me himself. He never cashed the check, but he and I did write letters back and forth for the next several years, and I would occasionally see him at car shows. 5 years passed, during which time I purchased a house and a postwar Cadillac, and I updated him on my various achievements while he responded with questions about my other cars and stories about his.

On Saturday, 3 November 2018, Jeff (then only 70 years old) called me in the evening and said he believed it was time to make the transition at the agreed-upon price. His voice was shaky, and he asked how quickly I could mobilize and collect the car. I asked for one week to rearrange my finances, clear the garage, and secure my brother’s truck and trailer for transport. He agreed.

One week later on 10 November 2018, my brother and I went to his house overlooking the tip of Conesus Lake the morning after their first snow. It took us almost an hour to start the car in the frigid temperatures, but Jeff coached me through the steps and taught me how to use the manual choke. Perhaps she was hesitant to leave her trusted owner. She finally roared to life, and we carefully negotiated the steep snow-covered driveway. It was the first time this car had ever been driven over snow in 63 years. He reminded me he still had a large collection of extra parts to accompany the car, so we agreed to come back the following Saturday with the trailer to collect the original hood, fender skirts, chrome trim pieces, taillight covers, dashbord, grille inserts, custom Plymouth swivel seats and frame, and original badging and lettering. He had almost enough parts to reconstruct a second car if heaven forbid there were ever a collision. When we arrived home with the car, the first snowflakes in Rochester began to fall just as soon as the giant machine was safely in the garage, as if the universe had waited until the exact final moment to turn to winter.

Once we loaded up the trailer a second time with the additional parts on 17 November 2018, I walked him back to the door carefully over the slippery driveway. Before saying goodbye, he said to me “We don’t really own these cars…we only serve as their guardians for some part of their lives.” He told me to take good care of the car, and I told him I would, and that he should take care of himself. He had known something in that moment that I had not: we would never see each other again.

Jeff passed away on Tuesday, 27 November 2018, only 10 days after I shook his hand goodbye, and the very same day the DeSoto had been accepted into the Buffalo Motorama – I was looking forward to sharing the news with him and had already drafted my next letter. However, when my phone buzzed during a meeting on Friday afternoon and I looked at the screen and saw his name, I knew without answering that he wasn’t on the other end. A voicemail from his wife Dianna confirmed. He had held onto that car for the longest possible time, and it occurred to me the great deal of courage it had taken to face down his own mortality in order to make the call to me only three weeks earlier. I went home Friday, kneeled down in front of the car, and told the DeSoto about our shared loss. It doesn’t matter if the machine didn’t understand, but it felt like the right thing to do. After careful consideration, I named the car Jeanette, which is rumored to be the name of the subject of the song “Last Kiss” by J. Frank Wilson and the Cavaliers, about a young woman whose life ends too soon due to circumstances beyond her control. I also ordered and received custom license plates reading “CONQSTDR” in honor of the namesake of the brand, Spanish conqueror and adventurer Hernando DeSoto.

I spent the weekend following Jeff’s passing detailing the car, even though it was already pretty clean. On that Sunday evening, I was just sitting alone in the cold DeSoto in my closed garage, and I wondered for the first time if Jeff had listened to me and put my letter in the glove box. I opened it the glove box door and instead found an emotional shock: a white envelope with his handwriting that said “Phantom ‘55” on the front. I teared up before I even opened it, because I knew it was his last message to me: a 6-page handwritten letter explaining the past importance of the car to the Burdick family, and charging me with its future care. It took me nearly an hour to clear my eyes enough to read the whole thing.

Jeff’s letter ended: “It’s up to you now. Most of the rare parts are with the car. If any of your dreams for this car coincide with mine, please share pictures with my family. They’d like to see this car being enjoyed again. Tell ‘em Groucho sent you! Enough…too much…said. Jeff Burdick”.

I will always be grateful to Jeff for trusting me with this undeniably cool car for the next chapter of her life, and I had a banner made for the top of the rear window that says “Cruising in Memory of Jeff Burdick” so that it is visible to those behind the car, and also in my rear view mirror wherever I go, a constant reminder that the machines will outlive all of us, and they will tell our stories when we are no longer able to – but only if we take good care of them.

Michael Lempert

Rochester, NY

2020.04.28