Forty Years of Monterey Car Week

From our Archvies, September, 2020. Although this article is only a couple of years old, Brandes Elitch and the Editor thought that it reflects so much of what Monterey was about and what Elitch has seen and experienced over a forty year period of attending the fabled August car events in Monterey. Be sure to read the articles on Brandes and Cars Yeah, in this issue.

Story by Brandes Elitch
Photos by Hugues Vanhoolandt

I first time I attended what has become known as “The Monterey Historics” was back in 1979, when I moved to California from New York City. I have not missed a year since – 40 years is a long time for anything.

In the early years, my focus was primarily the Laguna Seca racetrack. These were the beginnings of historic racing, the genius of Steve Earle creating the blueprint for what was to come worldwide. I was amazed that I could walk anywhere in the pits, and go right up to the owner and talk about his car, exotic racecars I had never seen in person before, just read about in Road & Track. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

Then my friend Joe, who had a Maserati 3500, told me about a new event for Maserati people, arranged by Francis Mandarano, first at the Carmel Valley Inn, and the next year at Quail Lodge. Mandarano gets full marks, like Earle, for drafting the blueprint for what came later, via the genius of Gordon McCall. It’s remarkable that three men made all the difference here with their vision and foresight, although they would probably admit today that they didn’t know back then what all this would become, thirty or forty years later. How could they?

The Pebble Beach concours was revitalized or reinvented by two other men: Jules Heumann and his partner in crime, “Chrome Dome” Lorin Tryon. They took over after the death of co-organizer Gwenn Graham and ran the show from 1972-1998. Tryon died in 1999. They are generally responsible for laying the blueprint for the show as it is today. They re-imagined it as a truly world-class event, and that is what it became under their tutelage.

Of course, I also attended the Pebble Beach concours, and I remember, one year, Joe and I were walking in the guest parking lot in back of the Lodge, and John Bond, editor of Road &Track, was trying to start his Lagonda. Joe and I pushed it for him to the show field. I should have gotten his autograph, as I grew up reading Road & Track from the time I was a teenager, even if fifty cents a copy was more than my allowance.

Over the years, I focused on getting books, models, posters, autographs, and photographs. Today, I am glad I did this. One year, I found out that Carlo Anderloni, the founder of Carrozzeria Touring, was to be an honorary judge at Pebble Beach. I took my copy of the book on his company and anxiously searched the grounds for Mr. Anderloni. When I spotted him, he was deep in conversation with some other people, and I ran up waving my hands. He graciously turned to me, bowed, and said, “Dear Sir, I will immediately disengage myself from these good people so that I might turn my full attention to you.” He signed my book, one of my most prized possessions to this very day. What great memories.

This year of course, there is no Monterey Historics and we are left to our memories, which are fading with time. I have been writing a mostly monthly column for VeloceToday for a dozen years or so, and for the last six or seven years I have been privileged to have one of the great automotive photographers in the world with me at the Historics: Hugues Vanhoolandt. Hugues has over a million images in his archive of automotive history. He is a pleasure to work with, and I cannot imagine doing this without his help going forward – what a blessing.

Pebble Beach memories

Now let’s step back in time to previous Concours at Pebble Beach and remember some of the attendees. Since VT is about French and Italian cars, I will focus on those. I have to start with a disclaimer: the physical, emotional, and financial toll of attending these events is completely overwhelming, particularly if you attend the Quail Lodge show, the Concorso Italiano, and the Concours, not to mention the track at Laguna Seca. The traffic on the Monterey Peninsula is horrendous, and just getting there and back from the San Francisco Bay Area is a nightmare, or to be more precise, a Living Hell.

Then there are the tiresome arrangements of finding a place to sleep and eat. Did I mention that there are fifty or sixty thousand car enthusiasts to share what is essentially a small village, that all roads are clogged/gridlocked, there is no parking, all the restaurants and motels are fully booked, etc.? As if this was not enough, the cost of the tickets and the lodging is such that it would be cheaper to just go to Paris for the week.

Of course, this is no matter to a true automotive historian or enthusiast. This is an intensely personal experience. If you have never seen in the flesh, so to speak, a Grand Prix Peugeot, a Ballot, a Type 35 Bugatti, a V12 Hispano, a “Phony and Flashy” Delahaye, a Delage D8, a Voisin, a teardrop Talbot-Lago, you will be stopped in your tracks the first time you do. The same goes for a prewar Alfa race car, a Lancia Lambda or Astura, or an immediate postwar Maserati or Ferrari.

What about a FIAT 8V or SIATA, or an OSCA, or even a Pegaso or Panhard? But if you have not studied these cars before seeing them and don’t know their historical importance, they may mean nothing to you. Otherwise, they will just be another pretty face, and there are 200 others on display on Sunday morning competing for your attention.

Fortunately, each year the organizers announce the multiple features well in advance, giving you ample time to brush up on what you are about to see. Last year, the main feature was the Centenary of Bentley, with a large number of entrants, but there was also the Centenary of Zagato, Ballot, and four Type 59 Bugattis.

Then there is the emotional and sensory overload. After the shock of seeing the first twenty or so cars, you realize that you have another 180 to go, and that this will take at least another five or six hours of forced march, even counting skipping over ones that do not particularly interest you, which, unlike other shows, will be few. You will have to navigate your way through the crowds around each car, and did I mention that there is really no place to sit down on the show field for the six or seven hours that you are walking around?

What makes Pebble Beach work is the logistics and the combined knowledge of the organizers. The Selection Committee that gets to choose which cars are accepted has to winnow down a thousand entries to about 200. Virtually every car that applies is already perfectly restored, or they wouldn’t be there (except for the Original Car class). Anecdotal evidence is that the organizers have decreed that if you restore your car, you must show it first at Pebble Beach. If you show it somewhere else first, you may not get another chance. There are 15-20 committee members, and the most telling quote about them is from Chris Bock: “It’s very rare that a car is submitted that is unknown to all of them.” I find that pretty darn astonishing.

Keep in mind that this is supposed to be a Contest of Elegance, not a contest of restoration, so an elegant line should trump a sluggish windshield wiper, as Mr. Bock says. Many of the 200 cars on display have been in the restoration shop (or shops) for years. Thousands of hours and unknown cubic dollars have been spent on their rebirth. Multiply this by 200 and you will get an idea of the enormous amount of collective energy and willpower on display here, and that does not even count the display in front of the Lodge, or the single marque displays on adjacent golf course links.

That is what makes Pebble Beach so special, the collective willpower of the entrants, restorers, and organizers. Yes, other shows also have this combination, but not to the degree or sum total that Pebble Beach does. That is what makes it unique, and what attracts entrants from all over the world.