History of Pontiac -Part 1

(above: 1957 Pontiac Chieftain Two-Door Sedan passes through the frames of remembrance as a ghost of a lost America, lingering as an echo on the Mother Road)

To the Mother Road of Ghosts

Perhaps it needed to happen. But the loss of Pontiac for the enthusiast community is still raw just beneath the surface, eliciting mixed feelings, just over two years since production ceased --yet another American brand in decline succumbed to the anvil of unsentimental market forces and time's relentless advance. On that fateful day, press releases announcing the end were written simply, with no fanfare or ceremony: "November 2, 2010--General Motors Corporation (NYSE: GM), a United States-based automaker, has officially ended production of the Pontiac brand."

Herein with an acknowledgment of its legend and a wistful nod to an era truly finished, it still seems somewhat unbelievable and hard to accept: Pontiac assembly lines are gone, shuttered, abandoned, are memories in the dark, with the likes of the iconic GTO, Trans Am, Firebird, LeMans, Catalina and Bonneville slated not to carry on in any iteration. At least not into the foreseeable future. 

Eleventh-hour attempts to reinject relevance into the Pontiac moniker, via the GM Australia/platform-sharing Holden Monaro experiment to revive the GTO (during a very brief American presence from 2004 to 2006) failed to gain the necessary market traction to keep the momentum alive. And despite the impressive result, an American V8-powered 6-speed muscle car (with the LS1 and LS2 series engines from Corvette), the Pontiac “fuel for the soul” apparently did not amount to sales. 

The neo-GTO, Soltice, and the follow-up 4-door G8 (another Australian GM platform-sharing muscle car experiment from Holden Commodore) were too little too late. Years of vague and unappealing styling had already metastasized into the inevitable demise awaiting the brand. Pontiac was finished. But what a great run and legacy it has left. 

In this multi-part series we will reminisce, recount, and review the decades of driving and styling excitement the Pontiac division of GM gave to the automotive world. From its humble beginnings to its rise to worldwide fame and on to the downward spiral --its fall from grace, Pontiac blazed its own path. And perhaps primarily known today as the harbinger of the 1960s era American muscle car, Pontiac's storied past is more than just ensconced in raw power and testosterone-driven sales. For this we must track back to 1755  and immerse in American Indian lore:

Chief Pontiac (1720 - April 20, 1769) was a great leader of the Ottawa Indian tribe. He organized his and other tribes in the Great Lakes area to fight the British, in what is known as Pontiac's War (1763-1764).

Rise of the Chief 

(above: hood ornament of the 1951 Pontiac Chieftan Deluxe 4 dr sedan)

Pontiac became chief of the Ottawa Indians in 1755. He soon became the head of the Council of Three Tribes, an intertribal group consisting of the Ottawa, Potawatomi, and Ojibwa people. The French traders and the Indian tribes had coexisted well, trading furs for supplies like food, guns, ammunition, and tobacco. In 1760, the British had just defeated the French and taken over their forts. Sir Jeffrey Amherst, Major Robert Rogers and British/colonial troops occupied Fort Detroit, and the British took possession of other forts around the Great Lakes region. Some of the British, including Amherst, were contemptuous of the Indians, limiting trade and angering the tribes.

Invading the British

In 1762, Pontiac enlisted all of the local tribes to drive out the British. The English called this action "Pontiac's Conspiracy." Pontiac's strategy was to have each of the 18 local Indian tribes attack the fort nearest to them in May 1763, and then to eliminate the British settlements. Pontiac planned to begin the rebellion by taking Fort Detroit.

Laying Siege to Motor City

Pontiac planned to conquer Fort Detroit (what is now Detroit, Michigan) on May 7, 1762, but his plan was betrayed, and the British found out about it. He therefore did not attack as planned. Pontiac did lay siege to Detroit, encircling the fort with warriors, blocking supplies and reinforcements. On July 31, Pontiac won the Battle of Bloody Run, but reinforcements eventually did come to Detroit, and Pontiac retreated. The tribes captured eight of the 12 forts that they attacked, and the settlements were left in ruins.


A White Flag then Betrayal

By 1764 the French no longer supported the Indian efforts and actually sided with the British, and the British re-took many of the areas. Pontiac agreed to a peace treaty in July 1766 at Fort de Chartres, Illinois. He was murdered, clubbed to death, by a Peoria Indian three years later. To avenge Pontiac's death, the Ottawa Indians killed many Peoria Indians. Forged in bloodshed, Pontiac's name and image would thereafter find a new beginning and eventually penetrate modern social consciousness. 

Sympathy and Acknowledgment

In homage to the fallen leader, the city of Pontiac, in southeastern Michigan, was established in 1819. Jumping ahead 71 years, to 1893, Edward M. Murphy established the Pontiac Buggy Company in Pontiac, Michigan producing horse-drawn carriages thru 1906. From this inception the Chief would rise again... 

(continued in Part 2)

Prologue: Endeavour's Arrival and Staging at LAX

(September 21, 2012, Space Shuttle Endeavour arrives in Los Angeles in the grandeur of an epic Hollywood movie)

With the fanfare of a celebrity, Endeavour arrived in Los Angeles, September 21st, 2012, atop its 747 transport, complete with chase planes. That it marked the "final end" phase of NASA's 30-year Shuttle era, the homecoming took on a ceremonial aura akin to a Hollywood red carpet event -the Endeavour, as a de facto star on the walk of fame, had been lifted skyward for the millions of Angelenos below to admire in awe. The occasion was somewhat unbelievable if not fascinating. Throughout the day the Endeavour's flightpath and sighting opportunity was the most discussed thing. "Is it going to pass over our building?" "Where in the sky will it be?"-were the primary concerns, with people taking long lunch breaks to gather for the spectacle.

From a report on September 20th, 2012, the day prior to arrival:

"NASA's Shuttle Carrier Aircraft (SCA) with space shuttle Endeavour mounted atop [from Kennedy Space Center, Orlando, Florida] arrived Sept. 20 at the agency's Dryden Flight Research Center on Edwards Air Force Base in California [Edward's is northeast of Lancaster/Palmdale in the high desert].

Following an overnight stay, the SCA and Endeavour will salute the Edwards Air Force Base area early Friday, Sept. 21 with a low flyby northbound to Sacramento and the San Francisco Bay area. Next the aircraft will travel south, making a pass over NASA's Ames Research Center, Vandenberg Air Force Base and NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory before heading into the Los Angeles area.

Finally, the SCA and Endeavour will land about noon PDT at Los Angeles International Airport, for an arrival ceremony before Endeavour is taken off the SCA and transported to its permanent home at the California Science Center next month." 

(Space Shuttle Endeavour 'drydocked" in a hangar at LAX awaiting its final journey across Los Angeles to the California Science Center located several miles to the northeast, near the LA Coliseum. This photo and ones following below courtesy of  Cloud King, http://www.blogger.com/profile/10971269439825710543)

A couple of days after I had written and posted it, I forwarded my first Endeavour article [whose link is at the bottom of this article] to a friend of mine who works in the aerospace industry as a flight engineer. He blogs under the user name "Cloud King," featuring his lush atmospheric photography, found here: http://cloudstudiesphotographic.blogspot.com/

Cloud King's reply included a series of photographs he captured of Endeavour while it was staged at LAX. I answered "Omg wow. May I use these pics for a follow-up article? Was this at the hanger at LAX? Please tell more." 

He answered: "Yes that is the LAX hanger ... We used to lease the same hanger where the Shuttle was parked. There were tons of security at the hanger all packing guns. A call was made, we showed up and got in. When I walked in the hanger I was totally blown away, I was in "NERD HEAVEN" !!! At first they would only let us take photos only from the floor but when they they got full intel on who we were. they let us up stars to walk the cat walk around the Shuttle. I ended up going two days in a row so I got tons of photos."

(Space Shuttle Endeavour 'drydocked" in a hangar at LAX; note the human scale as relative size comparison)

He further elaborated in response to my photographs of the Endeavour, specifically about rolling down Crenshaw Boulevard: "Looks like you were back on my old stoop Chad. I used to stay one block off the "Shaw". Glad to see the Shuttle made it through LA without slings and arrows. I took off out of LAX @ 0500 Fri and saw the Shuttle as it was leaving airport property. When we returned "eight hours" latter it was on Sepúlveda! It was parked in a bank parking lot in Westchester. That's two to three miles an hour with stops. All of a sudden my feet are now hurting ..."

(Space Shuttle Endeavour 'drydocked" in a hangar at LAX; note the human scale as relative size comparison)

Several excellent videos shot by amateurs and professionals captured the various moments and stages in the Endeavour's final journey. One particularly excellent one shot at LAX is posted here: 

(Space Shuttle Endeavour 'drydocked" in a hangar at LAX)

below excerpt from:  http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/lanow/2012/10/space-shuttle-endeavour-leaves-airport-los-angeles.html)

From the hangar, on October 12, 2012, Endeavour "left the grounds of the Los Angeles International Airport and is now on city streets, heading east toward Inglewood.

The massive spacecraft, rolling at under 2 mph, left the airport at 2 a.m. exactly. "Right on time, it just cleared the gates," said airport spokeswoman Nancy Castles.

The weathered shuttle -- its blemishes easy to see -- took up two of the four lanes of the road as it rolled down Northside Parkway, and a handful of vehicles led the procession, including a truck that had a U.S. flag fluttering behind it.

At the first sight of Endeavour, scores of onlookers waiting patiently on city streets began running on Westchester Parkway, some with camera tripods in tow, snapping photos furiously. 

They had been waiting hours in the dark, some perched on top of car roofs, and others on ladders and step stools yearning, in the crisp autumn darkness, for their first glimpse of America's last space shuttle.

About 100 people whooped and hollered from the corner of Westchester Parkway and McConnell Avenue...

Over the next two days, the 170,000-pound shuttle is expected to travel at no more than 2 mph along the 12-mile route that includes Westchester Parkway, La Tijera Boulevard, Crenshaw Boulevard and Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard. The shuttle is moved by four computer-controlled transporters that will help it negotiate complex turns and avoid streetside obstacles.

At points along the way, the space vehicle will be inches away from buildings and protrude onto driveways and sidewalks. Because of the enormous weight of the shuttle, thousands of heavy steel plates have been used to reinforce city streets. En route, the public can see the shuttle on Friday at a number of public viewing areas along Manchester Boulevard in Inglewood, including Isis, Hindry and Glasgow avenues as well as La Cienega Boulevard.

On Saturday, there will also be several designated public viewing areas, including the Forum in Inglewood, the intersection of Crenshaw and Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard, and certain parking lots in Exposition Park."

My personal account of the Endeavour's cross-town travel is documented here:

http://chadglass.blogspot.com/2012/10/endeavoured-to-join-parade.html#.UITgCo7_R94

Endeavoured to Join the Parade

(my first view of the Endeavour once I found it: looking south down Crenshaw Blvd as Space Shuttle creeps northbound en route to Exposition Park in south Los Angeles)

Deciding to brave the Los Angeles traffic and gathering throngs, I packed the Yamaha with snacks and a camera and set off on an afternoon journey across town as I endeavoured to join the parade --to see a one-off procession and final arrival of the Space Shuttle Endeavour. 

I recall years ago when I lived on the east coast, a college-era friend of mine and I drove down to Cape Canaveral, Florida (from Atlanta) on a spring break to witness the liftoff of Columbia. We parked and walked to a good viewing spot and beheld the gantry tower and familiar shape of the Shuttle's launch profile, with the tank and twin boosters looming in the distance across the water. 

I was excited to have finally made the pilgrimage to see a launch, anticipating the sound and visual spectacle, the shaking of the ground, as nothing can quite replace a live event personally attended. And it had become an American institution, a cultural mainstay, and something I casually assumed I would indeed see in my lifetime. It was too common of an occurrence to not see it, the Space Shuttle being a household name. At the viewing area, my adrenaline raced as the clock was already in progress, ticking down to less and less minutes to go. 

When it got down to about T-minus 25 seconds the clock stopped. And that was it. We hung around for about a half an hour longer until it was announced that the launch had been scrubbed, a weather-related issue. As it came to pass, the date of the new launch was set beyond the time we were to be in the area, and I was never to see it again: In the intervening time, as the years got on by, "life happened" and things just never led back to the Cape. It has been nearly twenty years since that time, but today, finally, I would not pass up the last opportunity to personally see the Shuttle in motion. 

(on the sidelines of Crenshaw Blvd as Space Shuttle Endeavour creeps northbound en route to Exposition Park in south Los Angeles)

Leaving in the early afternoon, about 2pm, it would take me at least an hour to get to the shuttle's present but slowly moving location as it was in south Los Angeles, south of downtown. Endeavour's last destination, Exposition Park, where the California Science Center, LA Coliseum, USC, and LA County Museum of Natural History are located, would be no casual jaunt over the hills. This became a mission. 

The choice to take my Yamaha Zuma 125 alleviated what would have been easily a 2 or 3 hour car ride with the event traffic. And the solo trek, with helmet and gloves, made the event all the more eventful. The open roads across LA's environs proved a wonderful excursion of its own as I became a sort of Saturday sightseer in my own city. The Saturday traffic was generally light on the surface streets compared to a weekday, and the autumn energy infused the journey with a pleasant feeling of being alive, something already amounting to a warm recollection.

On the road, my small motorbike left far behind whatever occasional bottlenecks that happened to gather, lane-splitting my way through the changing landscapes and localities of LA. Beginning from the literal foot of the San Gabriel Mountains in the northeast corner of the San Fernando Valley, I set out traveling southwest through North Hollywood, down and over the Santa Monica Mountains through Laurel Canyon in Studio City, taking a right onto Sunset Strip in West Hollywood, a left down the steep La Cienega incline into the basin, past the Beverly Center and Larry Flint building, crossing southbound over Wilshire, Olympic, Pico, Venice Boulevard, all the way on down past Blackwelder into Culver City -then to a sharp left/east onto Rodeo to MLK Jr Boulevard. The city miles had dropped away and my beeline traverse passed sooner than I thought. But the work had only begun. 

Once in the immediate vicinity, evidence of Endeavour's presence started becoming apparent. I felt it. In the otherwise quiet neighborhoods along Rodeo in Baldwin Hills, occasional people in groups began dotting the sidewalks, all walking in a common direction. Police cruisers would come and go, becoming a frequently seen type of car. The outskirts of the event looked like people arriving to an outdoor concert venue. Traffic cops and barriers came into view, and the first rerouting of my line of travel happened: Once on MLK ("King Boulevard"), I went only a short distance and found I could not directly go to find Endeavor on its northerly path up Crenshaw Boulevard. That road and many before it, leading to it, were blocked off. This forced the rest of the way into becoming a perpetual redirection and intuitive navigation. 

(on the sidelines of Crenshaw Blvd as Space Shuttle Endeavour creeps northbound en route to Exposition Park in south Los Angeles)

Having no idea of its actual specific location, I knew of Endeavour's general itinerary based upon news reports of where it would be at certain times. And now I was there in the vicinity so close. Indeed, something much larger than the circus had come to town, as I had never seen so many people walking in LA at the same time. Getting ever closer, motoring down parallel streets proximal to MLK en route to Crenshaw, I would have to just find the spacecraft -searching for a lost ship in the urban grid, over oceans of avenues through seas of people. 

On the Yamaha I whizzed in, out, through, and past columns of cars. The buzz of the proceedings charged the town alive while navigating through chains of suddenly appearing barricades, police cars, fire trucks, sirens, crawling traffic, numerous detours, and walls of humanity. By the location of the sun over the city grid, I pressed on, heading generally southeast. The near-distant downtown skyline and mountains became crystal clear sunny landmarks in the lush density. In a lucid moment, LA's beauty confronted me gently, a town that cannot be fully discovered. Reduced to a standstill the streets became parking lots as I scooted past the labyrinthine immensity, in between cars and buses and people walking everywhere. 

Pulling up next to a man in a silver car with his window down, I said hello through my helmet and asked him, naively, "So are you going to see the Space Shuttle?" The jovial Luciano Pavarotti-looking fellow said "I hope so. I just got back into town and I'm telling my wife I'm going to see it" as he texted something on his phone. We said a few more things before I pressed on and bid him good afternoon with a thumbs up. What a great impression, this conversation with a stranger that had the feeling of normalcy and familiarity, mentioning his wife and his trip back into town. And thus became revealed the tone for the whole experience from beginning to end: A friendly humanity enjoyed the afternoon (if not with many of them stuck in their cars), convened and enjoined in a common curiosity. There was no hate. There was no fear. 

 (the left wing of Endeavor passes right overhead; looking more closely the serial numbers on the tiles can be seen)

Everyone I encountered, from bumping into them in close quarters to asking for information from the police -all of it was among some of the nicest mass-interactions between crowds of people I have ever seen. The people heeded the rules and the barricades, respected the miles of yellow streamer tapes, and everyone got along in harmony. The sheer bewilderment to the sight of the Space Shuttle traveling through Los Angeles appeared to have surmounted any other personal concerns, at least temporarily, that the spectators each individually must have had. Every mood was good. Everyone was kind. 

Society itself was on parade: Every age, race, and gender flooded the streets for miles. Among this I could hear different languages being spoken, some of which were clearly from tourists, those from abroad who were able to make the long journey. Certainly, something like this would never be seen again. And everyone knew it. 

(a small sampling of the gigantic showing of people in south Los Angeles to witness the final journey of Space Shuttle Endeavor)

After asking a couple of police officers about where the Endeavour was along the boulevard, I zig-zagged my way closer and closer on the bike until I came upon that special moment: Knowing I must have been upon the site, I glanced to my left as I went through a particular intersection (crossing over Crenshaw) being directed by a traffic cop, and then saw it: My first view is posted herein as the first photograph of the article, but I will include another shot of it just below here: 

(another moment of my first view of the Endeavour once I found it: looking south down Crenshaw Blvd as Space Shuttle Endeavour creeps northbound en route to Exposition Park in south Los Angeles)

Looking down the street I did a brief double-take: I gasped when I saw it. OMG, there it is down the street. The suddenness of my feelings of surprise and elation overtook me, being something that could not ever be faked or simulated. It just came out like that and I grinned so widely that it wrapped around my head. Because the sight was so strange and different, it could not have been prepared for. That alone was the priceless reward of the trip but there was more to come as it grew nearer and nearer. Something like this, a unique live event involving the people of our time, is something one must do personally and live, immersed in the unadulterated present moment in order to completely understand. Today the most jaded man or woman would have melted and succumbed. Every man was a kid, every woman a girl. 

(Endeavour's engine outlets, to never flow fire through them again, mark the presence of the the majestic space plane as it passes gently among the people lining the streets to its final home at the California Science Center)

As its beautiful industrial fuselage crept closer and closer, the surreal spectacle revealed the battle-scarred and pockmarked Endeavour gliding along the boulevard -a gentle giant celebrity representing layers of various meanings and memories to generations of the public. The imposing and incongruous sight of it created the sensation of being inside of a movie that was real, if not laced in the tacit acceptance that it could all be a dream anyway, a sort of mind-fuck du jour. 

In quick reminiscence as I finally parked and dismounted the scooter, to mingling into the peaceful crowds, I had been able to see NASA's shuttle program come and go: from first televised launch of Columbia (when they were still painting the main fuel tank white), "America's first Space Shuttle," to the final procession of the last one built, the 5th and last, the Endeavour -replacement to the tragic Challenger. 

(full shot of Endeavour farther up along Crenshaw Boulevard, heading northerly)

I took pictures until the camera was out of memory space, having lost some great shots towards the end of my visit due to lack of space. One in particular that I regret not getting was upon my final moments at the event, packing up my scooter, getting ready to leave: I saw the shuttle's tailfin pass over and behind the roof of a "Louisiana Chicken" restaurant, appearing like a dorsal fin in the movie Airplane! At least I have that moment in my own memory, something I will never forget. 

Regardless of the corporate interests and geopolitical scandals that influence our world daily, some of which were and are undoubtedly responsible for having given rise and fall to the Space Shuttle program itself -none of that seemed to matter for a while. Wonder and innocent fascination ruled the day. And despite the heavily organized police and rescue forces on display, the parade of the Space Shuttle Endeavour was the largest unguarded moment I have ever been part of. 

Tom Meade Update: July 2012 -Part 8

Colors and Symbols and the New Thomassima IIII*

*(yes the "IIII" is spelled that way intentionally)

“Lots of new cars are running Thomassima-type reds. Contrary to what it may look like, it is not a ‘candy red’ or modern multi-stage process. The paint used on prior Thomassimas was made for the Thomassima. And that company who made the proprietary color is now defunct. I took a full day to develop that red color at the paint factory.

“The colors of my cars are created by God and Nature. I don’t like plastic paint. There are plastic compounds in paints today. So you get what you use. When you use plastic in paints, the cars will look like plastic. But mine must look like glass. This is also why I use glass components wherever possible.

“The tail lenses are organic in shape, like kidney beans and/or the thorax of an insect, with a valley running north/south on the lens’ surface. There are then 4 east/west sections of differing colors that indicate the main light, brakes, backup, and turn signal. This all becomes one unit of glass, which is fired then re-fired to fuse the different colored lenses together. The tail lenses will then be ‘frenched’ (countersunk) into the rear of the body.

“I had major American manufactures telling me that it was impossible to do that, to fuse the glass in the form I wanted, but I did it in my own workshop.”

To jump ahead a bit, I will add that, after our time at the café, we later went back to Tom’s workshop where he showed me several pieces of the car. Among the various things I did see the prototype casts and ‘stages of states’ of the tail lenses. I can say that one single lens itself is an entire thing of its own, a study in glass sculptural form. It could have been a rare decanter of some kind, from some unknown time, or maybe even an American “Lalique.”

Were one to be handed a rear lens, for example, it would probably not be identifiable as a part from a car. It looks like an aquatic animal, with myriad raised dimples on the inner curved surfaces. The various pieces out of context resemble organic and/or robotic objects, mysterious components from an alien craft.

Tom clarifies that he values my opinion as I am a visual artist and asks for critiques of the various pieces. I offer what I can and he considers some of it. I only wish I could have seen some of the engineering drawings –anything- but I was not allowed access to those.

At this point in the interview I stop for a break to eat as it has been a couple hours at least (I suppose), and I begin having a telltale  hypoglycemic moment, my composure starting to fade with my hands beginning to shake. For that I order a chicken and eggplant sandwich that reinvigorates me to continue on with the remainder of the note-taking:

“My Thomassima emblem, which came to me in a vision, happens to resemble the Greek Chimera, a mythical animal. The animal figurine is backlit by an LED and floating within a glass teardrop of blood. As all of the steering wheel’s buttons are backlit by LEDs, the Thomassima emblem is within the steering wheel’s center and is also countersunk into the structure of the Thomassima IIII’s nose.

“The animal figurine is created from a unique process and material and technique that encases it within the glass. The prototype you’re looking at is cast in a vacuum and pressure tank. The process is of my own invention.

(Tom Meade emblem logo ®)

“When anyone says I can’t do it I’m the first one to say ‘screw you, I’m going to do it.’ And I’ve never once failed –knock on wood.

“I work from 5 or 6am to 11pm or later each night, 24/7. Sometimes I’m up until 3am. Many people ask me for favors and I have to decline because of my strenuous work schedule. But I get the occasional one who doesn’t believe me and I come across as a brutta figura (ugly person).

“So when you’re sound asleep I’m up creating new designs for the next morning. With 3 or 4 hours of sleep a night I can say that is too much time wasted sleeping. My drawing board is my throne, not my bed!

“All control buttons on the steering wheel are 50% leaded crystal with fabulous light refractions. The dashboard is nude, as one flowing ‘melted honey’ form. Including the buttons, everything is hidden. The carbon fiber rear view mirrors are hand-made based on F1 designs. Thomassima IV has double headlamps.”

Tom allows me to see and hold the steering wheel, the 3-pedal clutch, gas, and brake assembly, the shift gate assembly, a front rim, the spinner knock-offs, various trim pieces and bits. He has a kiln in his shop and piles of notebooks with reams of things shoved into them in a rhyme and reason that only he understands.

What strikes me about this methodology is the validity to the claim that a genius (a status ascribed to Meade in the Italian press) must be a madman --or at least somewhat of one, a contained insanity brewing to sharp focus. Not everyone can do this. It is a perpetual battle against will, money, and time. Although I never doubt his resolve. You can see it in his eyes. When he says something he means it.

“I’ve never wanted a web site to ring my own bell. Word of mouth is the golden way to introduce yourself to the world because it spreads based upon what you do, not what you say. The results speak for themselves. Have a look at my cars and make up your own mind.”

Family History and Life Abroad

“I’ve lived in Thailand, Malaysia, Fiji, Italy, Australia, Bali, Sumatra, the Philippines, and California. I was born in California but don’t consider myself particularly American having lived 51 years in Italy, but I was born in Hollywood and grew up in Malibu. My mother is from Auckland, New Zealand, from Happy Creanga Road.

“I went to school in Australia in Manly, Brisbane, and Sydney at Waverly College. My grandfather on my mom’s side was born in Fiji. My mom’s side grandmother was born in Tazmania. My great grandmother is Castilian; my great great grandfather, Count Roletti, is Italian. And my great great great grandfather Meade was born in Ireland.

“I flew to Australia in 1948 on a Super Constellation airplane, ie, the ‘Super Conny.’ The plane stopped in Midway to refuel and I recall getting out and walking down the mile long runway. It was this long white structure made of compacted coral. I walked out to the edge and saw these giant fish in a canal.

“And I was the first ‘yank’ there, and had the first blue jeans and surf board in Australia. These were the times of the world surfing champion-to-be Joey Cabell. He started the Chart House restaurant chain, today still owning one in Honolulu and one in Seattle. He helped me to make a surfboard at Waikiki (a guy named ‘Rudi’, at his house) when I was 12 years old. Joey Cabell, Squirrely, Rabbit Kekai –these guys were emerging into their heyday at this time.

“I surfed the entire east coast of Australia. Surfers Paradise, Bondi Beach, North Stein, South Stein, Queenscliff, Freshwater. Despite what is written, Duke Kohanamoko was not the first one to surf there. I was the first one there in 1952. Kohanamoko is credited out of prior fame of his name. I was only a kid. I had a short board for the time, a 9 foot 6 inch board. It was made of balsam wood and covered with fiberglass. That became known as the ‘Malibu Board.’  I named and wrote on the board ‘Moi Nalu’ (‘King Wave’ in Hawaiian or ‘Wave King’ in English).

“I lived in Manly in Sydney where I would take the ferry from Circular Quay, where the famous Opera House was eventually built is. In Hawaii I lived in a banyan tree on Kuhio Beach. I lived on Waikiki Beach and surfed at Queens, Canoes, and Bluebirds near the natatorium. We surfed Makaha, and near the blowhole at Koko Head. so many other places I can’t remember. In those days, the late 1940s and early ‘50s, it was a surfer’s paradise.

“I spent four years in the navy, from 1956 to 1960. I visited Guam, Japan, Philippines, and China. It was after that service that I hitchhiked to New Orleans from Newport Beach.

“In the early to mid 1990s I lived in the jungles of Sumatra, on Tuk Tuk, an Island in the middle of Lake Toba, an extinct volcano. The people there were all nice and happy. I also lived in Bali (where I had a house) where there lived the sweetest people on Earth --in the Malaysian archipelago (that’s the land of the Komodo dragon, the Dutch East Indies).

“I lived 11 months in Brunei and I’ve visited the land of the Sultan of Brunei. I was trying to arrange a presentation with the Sultan, to offer him a custom, hand-built, Thomassima. While I was there, I met a woman, Catherine Anderson, who had involvements in a business to extract oil from ‘dry wells.’ She made an offer and I worked for her briefly. While visiting Brunei, I saw the Sultan’s yacht. I was told by one of the sailors that it was called ‘Tits.’ And its lifeboats were called ‘Nipples.’ And the Sultan is the guy with a gold plated F40.”

The Mafia, Being Ruined, Recovering, and Other Things

“One day I had lunch with Michele Sindona, a Sicilian, and a man named ‘Zeni’ (prounced ‘Zay-nee’), in a villa northeast of Brecia. This is where they have the Mille Miglia. Anyway, Sindona was a natural financial genius, a de facto ‘da Vinci’ of finance. He committed everything to memory, with virtually no records of any of his business activities. Involved with the Vatican bank (Banca Anbrosiano), he orchestrated about 150 different businesses but kept it all in his head. Nothing was recorded, archived, or filed in any way on paper or on a computer. It was unbelievable.

“Sindona had a friend, Roberto Calvi, who was Sicilian. He, too, was a financial genius. As some time got by, Calvi was found hanging under the Blackfriars Bridge in London. And few years earlier, Sindona had gone to prison. He, too, was found dead, having had his coffee poisoned. But that wasn’t the only connection I had to death or the mafia, to whom the hanging was attributed.

“They came after my mother. They tried to kill her after I refused to sell my automotive company to them. Apparently my lawyer at the time colluded with a crime element that sought to oust me from Italy. So Zeni befriended me. He came from Albania, an impoverished country which is between Italy and Greece, working his way up from being totally poor to a billionaire stock market investor.

“The mafia ruined me financially and continued to terrorize my mother and I. And they tried to kill her again --not once but twice.

“The Modena police would just laugh in my face when I reported things as Italy is famous for frontier justice. I even went to the American embassy in Rome, but they didn’t help either. They were too busy drinking cappuccino and rushing to their cocktail and dinner parties to help a little church mouse, American citizen, like me. So this went on and on.

“For a time strange people would show up at my door with guns pulled. I was at their mercy. I realized that I was inadvertently caught in a turf war. As I became more known (as I would not only make cars but buy, sell, and prepare them for customers worldwide), buyers would come to me first to get cars and not the Italians. Even though I was fully immersed in the Italian culture and could speak their language fluently, I was not an Italian. I was an American and, in their minds, stealing their business. I was too successful in their circle and apparently someone resented me. From what I could see they were astonished that I could outdo them in business by being honest, having come from the gutters to boot.

“When I became dead broke, Zeni protected and took me in. Originally from Albania, he was a chain smoker and dabbled in cars with me. With my prior expertise I would tell him what cars to buy. And he taught me all about the inner workings of the Italian world of finance and banking. He taught me about the stock market and investing, in and around the Palazzo della Borsa, the financial center of Italy in Milano.

“Eventually the harassments stopped and I began male modeling in Milano as well as doing t.v. work and acting. Donatella Mauro became my talent agent. Without money for a hotel, during this ‘post-mafia’ time, my dog and I slept in my car, a Cooper Mini. This went on for a long time.

“I eventually left Italy to accompany some Ferraris to Houston, Texas, to oversee the importation of Zeni’s cars. I set up at the Beverly Hills Apartments,  near the corner of Hillcroft and Westheimer. I had to set up a repair operation where I would have to rebuild the engines on them because a mechanic (a notorious Austrian local, with an alleged Nazi father, whose names I will not mention), would sabotage them in his workshop by removing a pin from the timing chains. This way he could ‘repair’ the cars after they ‘broke.’ He was one of the only guys in town that could rebuild Ferrari engines. And as my cars were already in his shop for DOT and EPA certification, how was I to know?

“So I was challenged with a bunch of about 10 Ferraris, with broken motors, that had buyers. I had big problems and had to pull the rabbit out of the hat. I had no other choice but to fix them all at the apartments. So with this awkward situation I began noticing this guy, John Rogers, who would peek over a fence to see the cars. Eventually I invited him over. He was curious and wanted to learn how to fix Ferraris. And I needed his help. He was glad to be given the opportunity to get involved and I trusted him.

“So we got to work and I taught him how to fix Ferraris in exchange for his labor. For ten bucks I bought an old, non-running, Ford van, and had it towed to the parking lot. As it had side doors, it became our fix-it garage. During this fiasco, out of the kindness of his heart, Zeni invited me on a vacation to the Caribbean. I had to stall him and finally say ‘no,’ and kept working on the cars. I never told Zeni that the cars were ever broken and fixed. He never knew. They ran like new.

“When Zeni died it destroyed me emotionally and personally. He became my family, like a father. He’s buried in Milano.”