Pursuant to Noblesse Oblige...

I am very pleased that the post I wrote about meeting Jim Glickenhaus and his family resonated with so many people. I thought these comments from another forum are worth noting and so I pass them along:

... ah..., great story, Stephen!

Stephen, your threads are simply beautiful. I still remember the Sinatra one. And written so simply, yet they make you feel the most noble feelings of all. Thank you :)

Wonderful observations. Whatever happened to people like that?!

Stephen, again, what a pleasure to read your musings. Hope Elysee Wednesday goes well tonight.

Stephen, I read this poem few years ago and I though of it again after I read your piece. I could not agree more with your observation, there are few friends in this category but worth while finding and keeping...

Nobility, Alice Cary True worth is in being, not seeming, In doing, each day that goes by, Some little good--not in dreaming Of great things to do by and by. For whatever men say in their blindness, And spite of the fancies of youth, There's nothing so kingly as kindness, And nothing so royal as truth.

Stephen, it is true. Noblesse oblige. That's why a lot af aristocrats have to go to work: to finance their generous lifestyle, LOL. As far as cars are concerned, a friend of mine in Paris (noblesse italienne), living in St. Germain, has a collection of more than 85 cars, including Bugatti, Ferrari Dino, Cadillac Fleetwood V16, Citroen Sandro Maserati, etc. (in the underground garage). But what i do really appreciate is the simple, but full and deep hospitality. You're not only a guest, but you are part of his life. Another close friend of mine has a castle on a lake in Italy, but he has to rent part of it for events, in order to make his living. Bur warm true hospitality is a unique sign of his noble origine. On the other hand we have decadence-noblesse like Lapo which is absolutely the contrary to the required etiquette of an aristocrat. Also a lot of parvenues are not able to match their lifestyle with education.

You either have it or not...you cant buy it or rent it or invent it.. i met a french aristocrat.. what the most I was impressed was is his manner in a ordinary restaurant.. where a true noble showed his manners.. I smiled silently...

You are a man of excellent taste, Stephen. And now I shall compliment myself on being part of your network. :-) Thank you.

Stephen, You caught my curiosity but my questions are left unanswered by your post: - Why are these people so interesting? - What are the actual qualities that the people you listed possess, that make them ladies and 'gentlemen of the first order'? - What happened during the evening that made it 'memorable'?

My reply: They were as interested as they were interesting. As you know, passion is contagious and to share it with others is quite a gift.. I think that making others feel valued and at ease is an art form that I appreciate above all other considerations. You might want to read about WJD Clarke to see how he manifested it:
http://emcpb.blogspot.com/2009/12/wilfred-wjd-clarke-of-bentleys-cricket.html

Being passionate and a gentleman are not always to be found in the same person.. but when both elements are there, you're up for a treat.. and collecting memories always pays off :) always interesting Stephen.. ciao

Hi Stephen, you are right,the real aristocracy is in the heart, not in clothes, cars or jewelery. it is not always obvious, because there are so many fake "posh" people nowadays. I´ve met a true aristocratic woman in Paris who invited me to her castle in Normandy. It was wonderful experience, she talked in the same way to the gardener, housekeeper, as to her own family. True nobility is in the way how people feel with you, she was able to make feel anyone comfortable, good and at ease. She always knew what to tell or do to make you feel better, even noble. She gave credit and respect to the people as they have been part of their family. she was really kind of a role model for me. Nevertheless, these people are quite rare, so we must really cherish the opportunity to know them.

My reply: I could not have said it better!

Jim Glickenhaus &...

The definition of noblesse oblige, according to the Dictionnaire de l'Académie française, is "Whoever claims to be noble must conduct himself nobly" or "One must act in a fashion that conforms to one's position, and with the reputation that one has earned." I take it to mean that one is a gentleman or a lady and I've met a few.

Rob Walker and Wilfred J. D. Clarke were British gentlemen of the first order. Thierry Millet of PEP'S in le Passage de l'Ancre in the third arrondissement of Paris is one. I wrote of him under my nom de plume in Ray D Shosay's Journal. Dr. Russel Welch, a homeless man and former professor of physics, is another. He occasionally attends our Elysée Wednesday gatherings. General Richard Wilmot is yet another. He met with one of the most terrible men on the planet and came away from the event with an increased understanding of humanity.

Monday night, I had the pleasure of spending the evening with both a lady and a gentleman--Meg Cameron and Jim Glickenhaus--as well as their daughter Veronica Cameron Glickenhaus who has all the qualities. During my spur-of-the-moment trip to New York City of short duration they made themselves available to meet me and extended their extraordinary hospitality. They went out of their way to make me feel welcome. They are, all three, engaging conversationalists and entertaining dinner companions. For me, the evening was memorable.

Later, Jim opened the doors to his shop where the dreams of my teen years and beyond were all to be found in reality. Historic Le Mans racing cars bearing the names Ferrari and Ford were there for inspection with Jim providing anecdotes and trivia as fascinating as the cars themselves. From another era were a Duesenberg and a Stutz in magnificent form. From the modern era was the Ferrari P4/5--a one-of-a-kind piece of industrial art without rival commissioned by Jim and executed by Pininfarina to his requirements. Speaking as one who has seen a few things, I can say it was an overwhelming experience.

As exciting as it was to see and hear about these fabulous cars--artifacts of history and my own personal longings--what I came away with was an overriding impression of having spent time with three exceptional people. During the course of the evening, Meg observed about me that, "You are a collector of interesting people."

"Yes," I told her, "I am."

And she--along with her husband and daughter--had become one of them.

Mitchell & son in Italy

On one of my car buying trips to Italy, I took my father along with me. He and I had a special relationship from very early on which saw us surviving a head-on collision on the Ventura Freeway, going into jazz clubs when I was still underage, traveling to Las Vegas in my Ferrari Berlinetta Lusso and generally aiding and abetting whatever was of interest at any given time. And so it was that he and I went to Milano in search of Ferraris and Maseratis. What made the trip a little unusual was that he had gotten it into his head that it was going to be his last fling--he felt he was getting old.

We spent a month in Italy together during which we bought some cars, ate well, visited Venice and saw the Italian Grand Prix at Monza where we were joined by Stuart Baumgard and his wife Beverly. Stuart had purchased my GTO from Alain de Cadenet who had purchased it from me. My father and I also paid a visit to the Ferrari factory at Maranello where we took a close look at the production line, the foundry and the dynamometer room.

One of my 'chores' on this trip--apart from trying to fulfill about a dozen requests from friends to bring back Gucci loafers--was to travel to Torino to pick up some Bizzarrini parts for my friend Matthew Ettinger who had a Bizzarrini America at the time. I was given a name, phone number and address along with a wish list of what Matthew needed. My father went with me on the train. It promised to be a routine journey with little excitement. Until, that is...

I was sitting in our compartment and realized that my father, who had gone to get us sandwiches, hadn't returned and I was getting hungry. Though he didn't speak any Italian, he was pretty good at making himself understood but I felt he might be in need of assistance. I went to look for him but didn't have far to go. Out in the corridor I found him making himself understood with a very attractive Italian woman. From the way she was looking at him--and he at her--it was obvious that the sandwiches had been forgotten and something else had taken precedence. As I went by them on my way to find food, I smiled and nodded but did not interrupt.

A few minutes later, my father joined me in the dining car.

"Do you mind if I don't go to Torino with you?" I had to think about this for a moment, as we were on a train bound for Torino as he asked the question. Seeing my blank look, my father went on to say, "This girl and I have a thing going and we thought we'd get off the train and go back to Milano together." As if he needed to ask and as if I would say no!

At the next stop, they got off the train and I went on to Torino. I would get Matthew's parts for him though the place to which I was directed appeared to be an abandoned factory of some sort and the man who received me looked like he hadn't answered a telephone in years. He checked up and down the street before allowing me to enter as though he were running a speakeasy. Later, I dined alone in a small ristorante before catching my train back to Milano. In so doing, I boarded the train early only to find that it was the wrong train. It left the quai with only me onboard to who knows where and I had to jump off as it made its way across the rail yard and walk back to the station weaving between inbound and outbound trains. I finally made it onto the correct train.

When I rejoined my father later that evening, he had a look of contentment and a deeper appreciation for all things Italian. "Will you be seeing her again?" I asked him. "I'm meeting her for lunch tomorrow," he said, adding, "If you don't mind."

Of course I didn't mind.

HD Theater segment on the 250GTO

Cars and motorcycle videos

The bar at the Hôtel Georges V

Beginning my filmmaking career in Paris as I did was something of an adventure. Most people wanting a career in film leave home to come to Hollywood--not that such a place actually exists, if you take my meaning. For my part, I left 'Hollywood' to go to France because I had been seduced by all the French films I'd seen beginning with Claude Lelouch's Un homme et une femme (A Man and a Woman). I didn't know anyone there but I did have the phone number of a friend's sister. I went through some very uncertain times during this period but France--Paris--was very rewarding as well.

During one of my frequent returns to Paris, I was having drinks with a friend in the bar of the Hôtel Georges V. As we sat at the bar, a gentleman whom the French would refer to as a tête de noble-- someone with physical characteristics indicating royal lineage--sat next to us and proclaimed, "This has been the best day of my life." The man knew how to open a conversation with a couple of complete strangers.

It turns out, the gentleman had concluded a financial arrangement with an artist in whom he was quite interested. He was a connoisseur of fine things and was ravi to have become associated with the artist's work. "Do you like art?" he asked us. We answered in the affirmative whereupon he made a discreet and cryptic gesture to the barman who understood what was meant for he immediately moved to a corner of the bar where he opened a closet door hidden in the wood paneling. He returned with a very large 'coffee table' book documenting the work of the Iraqi-born calligrapher now living in France Hassan Massoudy. The gentleman paged through the book with us explaining various aspects of the work and exhibiting an enthusiastic appreciation for the artist's talent. His interest was contagious and I was delighted by what I was seeing. This was not lost on the gentleman who asked, "Do you really like these?" I replied that I did.

No sooner had I done so than he made another discreet gesture to the barman who, once again, visited the placard in the corner. This time he returned with a large artist's portfolio which he handed to the gentleman who opened it to reveal a large quantity of hand signed and numbered Massoudy prints. He allowed us to leaf through these taking delight in our pleasure. When we had finally seen them all, he asked if we had a favorite. We did. I indicated one that bore the hand-written phrase "Si vous venez vers moi en marchant, c'est en courant que je viendrai vers vous." (If you come walking towards me, I will come running towards you). My friend indicated his own favorite. "Then, they are yours," he told us.

We continued to talk about a variety of things and finally it was time to take our leave. I handed the print back to the gentleman just in case I had mis-heard his gracious and generous offer. He looked surprised and reaffirmed the gift. We parted company in the best of spirits. Coincidentally, my friend and I returned to the Georges V bar the next night and again encountered our new friend. He was pleased to see us and, gratifyingly, did not ask for his prints to be returned to him.

Recently, I gifted the Massoudy print to my daughter who speculated on its value. I told her to take the current retail value and multiply it by about a hundred. She was perplexed so I explained, "This came into our hands only because of me being me and, to date, that has cost a fortune!"

Steve McQueen and the Jaguar XKSS

KDH has left a new comment on your post "The subject was the Ferrari GTO...":

"Stephen, Could you elaborate a bit on your 'crossing paths' with Steve McQueen and his Jaguar XKSS...I'm a big fan of those iconic D-type siblings and orphans of the factory fire.
Thanks,
KDH"

My second encounter with Steve McQueen happened at dusk in Brentwood on Sunset Boulevard--as much a Hollywood icon as the actor himself. I was driving eastbound away from the beach in my Ferrari GTO and found myself stopped at a red light at North Kenter Avenue. As the sun was below the horizon--magic hour in film production terms--I had illuminated the peripheral lights which included two orange marker lights on the roof, two white lights on the passenger door (used to make the racing number visible after dark) and two similar lights on the trunk lid. It made the GTO even more noticeable than it already was. Looking ahead, I saw an unusual but familiar shape approaching from the opposite direction. It looked to me like a Jaguar XKSS.

As the British Racing Green sports car pulled to a stop across the intersection, a couple of thoughts went through my mind. First, it was very rare to see an XKSS anywhere but in an enthusiast's car magazine as not many 'street versions' of the famous racing D-type ever left the factory owing to a catastrophic fire that nearly wiped out the company. Second, the only XKSS I'd ever heard about belonged to...

I stopped staring at the Jaguar and focused on the driver sitting behind the right-hand-drive steering wheel. Sure enough, the face staring back at me was that of Steve McQueen. We were both gawking at the other's car!

The red light turned to green but neither of us moved. Then, McQueen pulled forward and I assumed he was going on his way, but he only pulled forward to get a better look at the GTO and stopped again right in the middle of the intersection. I stayed put and studied the details of the XKSS not knowing when I'd ever see one again. Traffic was backed up behind us in both directions and neither of us cared. Strangely, no one sounded their horn, as if they all understood what was happening.

Finally, McQueen flashed that irrepressible smile of his that, in part, made him the star that he was. I smiled back and he waved, revved the Jag's DOHC straight-six and took off like a shot. I waved back and took the GTO to 7500 rpm in first gear in pure exhilaration at what had just transpired.

I've never again enjoyed stopping at a red light as much as I did that evening!

As a post script, I did see that very same XKSS again. It was parked a few feet away from me while I was being interviewed by Hillary Heath at the Petersen Automotive Museum for the Discovery Channel's HD Theater. The subject of the interview? The Ferrari GTO that had caught McQueen's attention so long ago.

Rebel Rebel: Breadvan - the Most Recognizable Ferrari in the World

Marc Sonnery's book on the famous Ferrari Breadvan is now available and, yes, he interviewed me about my experiences with the car.

Rebel, Rebel-Breadvan-The most recognizable Ferrari in the world

Dino 206

Back in the day, I acquired a Dino 206 racing car from a bank in Reno, Nevada. It had been repossessed from the previous owner, the bank wanted it off their books and I know an entrance cue as well as the next fellow when I see one. I called the banker, told him I was getting on a plane within the hour and told him to wait for me even if it was after hours. Amazingly, he did.

I was greeted and escorted to the lower level of the underground parking facility where the car had been abandoned from the look of it. Next to the car were crates of spare parts--pieces that couldn't be had for love or money in the normal course of events. I stared at the car with what I hoped looked like profound sorrow and disbelief. I shook my head in a disappointed manner as often as I dared. Then, without comment, I led the banker back upstairs as though leaving behind a particularly distasteful crime scene.

Negotiating the purchase price was a riot of cross-purposes. The bank had long since closed and all the banker wanted to do was be rid of me so he could go home to dinner whereas I made myself comfortable in his office enumerating at length all the reasons why I shouldn't buy the car, which included the following statements:

Too many spare parts--what in the world would I do with them?
It doesn't seem to have air conditioning.
Do you suppose I could install power windows?
If only it weren't red.
Do you think it's safe to drive?
It's kind of old, don't you think?
Could you allow for some bodywork repair?
I just know it's going to be too noisy.
How am I going to get this mess back to Los Angeles?
I suppose you expect me to take those crates, too.
Is there a warranty?

I went on and on like this until I figured I had reached his breaking point. Then I said, "I'm going to make you an offer and I can only hope that you'll say no because I really shouldn't be buying this car."

His face fell because he was now fully--if incorrectly--aware that he had absolutely no leverage in this transaction. And he wanted to go home. "So," to quote from Fargo, "there's that and there's that on top of that."

I called out an amount that would have gotten me shot in any other circumstances and he just looked at me as though his career with the bank was coming to a bad end. "I'll have to let you know tomorrow because someone else is flying up to see the car in the morning."

I countered with, "But I'm flying back tonight, so good luck with the other guy." Ten minutes later, I'd arranged for funds to be transferred to the bank and was in a taxi headed back to the airport. I doubt that anyone ever paid less for a competition Dino than I did that day. For a short time at least, Dino 002/0852 was mine.

I do hope the banker got through to the other fellow before he got on a plane to Reno.

World's Most Expensive Rides on Discovery Channel's HD Theater

The interview I did for the Discovery Channel last March is finally beginning to air. The show is World's Most Expensive Rides and airs again today on Discovery Channel's HD Theater at 5pm EDT but will, no doubt, be re-run many times.

The Mint Casino, Las Vegas

Success was the second movie I made upon returning to Los Angeles after living in Paris. I had just completed a movie that was shot in the desert near Victorville, California and the same investor wanted to do another film. After a brief hiatus during which I returned to Paris to shoot a film for Tropicana orange juice by way of the J Walter Thompson Agency, I headed back to the desert with the same crew, lead and supporting actors--Gérard Ismaël and Vinny Argiro--and an otherwise fresh cast. I liked shooting in the desert as there are fewer 'innocent bystanders' to get in the way and the desert is, for me at least, a powerful visual metaphor. I've lost count of how many times I've made the pilgrimage to El Mirage, a dry lake bed not far from Victorville, to film. I first encountered the location working on the CBS TV movie Sole Survivor which my mentor Paul Stanley directed featuring Vince Edwards, William Shatner, Richard Basehart, John Wayne's son Patrick and Alan Caillou, an Englishman whose daily transportation was a vintage, cycle-fendered Bentley.

What was most memorable about shooting Success was how cold it would get at night. I would barely call 'Cut' before the actors raced back to the warmth of the cars to thaw. No question of rolling takes in that environment. Although the previous film was shot entirely in the vicinity of El Mirage, I wanted this one to include Las Vegas as a location knowing it would look good on the poster and help the marketing of the movie. As we progressed in that direction, we stopped in the crossroads town of Adelanto where we overran a small poker casino and recruited some hardcore poker players from the local jurisdiction to serve as bit players and extras. I even convinced the owner to do a cameo. You should have seen their faces, not to mention the performances they gave. They played themselves to perfection!

The night we finally arrived in Las Vegas, I was eager to shoot something rather than wait until morning. 'Vegas is a night city and that's what I wanted in the film. We made our way downtown to the famous intersection where the Mint Casino is located. While the crew and cast waited in the various cars and vans in a nearby lot, I went into the Mint with my unit manager and asked to see the casino manager. Ten minutes later, we were approached by someone who looked as though he'd made his way up through the ranks from bone-crusher to hit-man--an all-purpose, on-call 'frightener' from way back.

"What?" he asked me. I told him I wanted to shoot some scenes for my movie in the casino.

"When?" he asked. "Now" I answered.

"Get the sign" was all he said and that was the last we saw of him for the duration.

I spent the rest of the night making a movie in the casino traipsing all over the place and making entrances and exits with various actors until I realized we'd done everything possible except rob the place. We had only one minor setback that night. The cold weather and our nonstop filming had depleted the batteries for our Arri SR. To prolong their life span, my lighting director set up an arclight in the parking lot and aimed it at the spares to keep them warm. In the end, my father flew up from Los Angeles with a couple of batteries to keep us in business through the night. Not knowing if or when the manager would have second thoughts about the permission he'd granted us, I wanted to get everything we could before the sun came up.

I've had the pleasure of shooting in many glamorous locations--the Hôtel de Paris in Monaco, the Carlton and Majestic in Cannes, the old Bauer in Venice, the Bahia in Ensenada, the Pacific Dining Car in Los Angeles--but I'll never forget that brief exchange with the manager of the Mint Casino in Las Vegas. At least, I think he was the manager.