The Landsberry Family’s 1932 De Soto
Some of you may remember that my Dad (Alf Landsberry) owned and drove a 1932 De Soto up until the early 1970s. In fact, at the time that was our only family car.
When I was a kid and having a few of the lads around for a birthday party, Dad would let us ride on the running boards as a treat. No doubt that wouldn’t happen in today’s ‘helicopter parenting’ days. Shame.
The car was originally black with a green pin stripe, and so it remained during it’s time as our family car. That said, and during the 1970’s when Mum got her licence and she and Dad bought second hand cars, I seem to remember Dad was always planning to have it restored to its former glory, but in maroon in place of black.
But of course the key word here is ‘planning’. Dad had many a ‘plan’ that rarely came to fruition. The De Soto was stored away in the garage at 123 High Street, a space which Dad used as just one more spot to store and hoard, until in 1979 the whole lot was subjected to an unfortunate painting incident involving a blow torch, some fire and A LOT of smoke. You can read about that here.
The story of how the De Soto left the family in the 1990s only to return 15 years later is told in the following article from the August 2009 issue of the Chrysler Restorer magazine. You can read the actual magazine by clicking here.
In the Beam - The Chrysler Restorer Magazine
Written by Rob Landsberry - August 2009
The Search
Over 70 years ago, in 1936, my grandfather Alf Landsberry, bought a 4-year-old De Soto sedan. I never had the chance to meet my grandad, as he died before I was born, but he passed that De Soto onto my Dad, who was also an Alf...a naming tradition which my Mum thankfully talked my Dad out of continuing.
In fact, we used it as our family car up until the early 1970's when Dad upgraded to a rather shambolic old Toyota Corolla...definitely not the same charm.
The De Soto sat stored in an old garage, and over many years it was filled with Dad's ‘collectables’, and then covered in yet more ‘collectables’. Then one day, Dad decided to get the garage painted, and the painter thought he'd burn the old paint off. Sadly, a small spark made its way through the wooden garage door and next thing, the car and its precious cargo of magazines, books, tools and the like, all went into a slow burn. It was only the volume of collectables that stopped the fire taking hold fully. Instead, the old De Soto kind of smouldered into a ruin.
Dad kept it stored after the fire, and there it sat until he died in 1991. None of us wanted to sell it, so we kept it in storage for a few years, until Mum finally said she thought we should see if we could find someone who had the time, skill, patience and money to do it justice. Dad had always wanted to do it up to its old glory, but like many other plans, it just never happened.
And so the family De Soto was sold to Doug Judd. We kept the old plates (128 151), and put them on my Mum's car, just so we had a reminder of the old girl (the car that is, not my Mum!). I didn't see the car after Doug took it over, but he was kind enough to send a photo after he had restored it, and I remember thinking that my Dad would have been pleased and proud.
Years went by and then last year (2008), I mentioned to my Mum that I'd like to see if Doug still had the De Soto. She'd kept his details, and so we made contact. Turns out Doug had sold it on to Ron Heavey, also a Chrysler enthusiast. And so late last year I contacted Ron, and we chatted about the car and its history, and one thing led to another, and we agreed on a price for me to buy it from him. In fact, I'm not sure Ron actually wanted to sell it...and I'm absolutely certain that his young grandson is still suffering as a result of its disappearance.
But Ron stood by his word. In fact I think it was the fact that it was going back into the family that had owned it all those years ago that may have tipped the balance. And so it was that I found myself on the freeway from Campbelltown to Sydney one Sunday afternoon, driving the 1932 De Soto my father and grandfather had driven, at a top speed of around 75kph annoying many a driver as I did so, I'm sure.
I'd left the ease of my 2004 automatic Audi and hopped straight into the joys of a crash gearbox, no power steering, no assisted brakes and a single 15cm windscreen wiper that meandered across the windscreen in slow motion.
I've never met Doug, but I have spoken to him since. And all I can say is that he must have an amazing passion for classic cars. It is simply a work of art, and a tribute to Doug's sense of detail and history. I can't thank him enough.
So, that Sunday, I did the 70km trip home, struggling to come to terms with her little idiosyncrasies as perspiration literally poured over the massive smile on my face. The old girl was back in the family!
The Joy Of Ownership
So a few Saturdays ago, my girlfriend (Leslie) and I are driving along happily, some months after the return of the De Soto to my family. And also after quite a few trips to the mechanic to ‘tweak’ her just that little bit. And all is going well, when suddenly she loses power. The engine's still running. But the accelerator has no effect. So I reach down, and lo and behold, there's the accelerator pedal in my hand. "This can't be right", I said to Leslie. Now I'm no mechanic, but after looking back on the road to see if something's dropped off, I eventually located the rod that the pedal was supposed to be connected to, and I poked it through the hole in the floor, and screwed the accelerator pedal back on, and away we went. It's very similar complex engineering to my Audi.
Later that day I took the car to show my Dad's cousin. She is in her 80’s and knew the car well from her younger days. She had no idea that I had bought it, and she was delighted of course. We stayed for lunch, and had a few wines, so I left the car there and asked my son Ben to pick it up later. Like all classics I guess, she has her funny little ways, particularly when it comes to starting her, and you don't get the chance to make too many mistakes. Upshot is that Ben ran the battery flat trying to start it. So Sunday, Leslie and I get some jumper leads, and hook it up, only to find that within one minute of connecting the last cable, all four ends melted and smoked, and as we did the well-known ‘dance of the panicky car novices’, the cables eventually literally melted in half.
Mmmmm....that's right the De Soto has a 6 volt battery. Ooops! So out comes the battery and I charge it all that day and night.
Monday morning, I put the battery back in and all is good. Away she goes. So I take the opportunity to fill her with petrol...slightly overflowing it. Then away we go, back to my secure parking where I live where I park her and head to work in my Audi.
Later that day I get a call from the managing agent at my units to say someone has complained that the car is leaking petrol. The thing is, the spot where I park it has a slight ground leak of water which forms a puddle of water right where the car is. It's always there and has been for the 2 years I've lived there. But that, plus the slight petrol smell from the overfill, and someone had put 2 and 2 together and come up with 5. So when I get home, I smell the puddle and, as expected, it's just water. But wait, that's not all.
At one AM in the morning ... yes, that's right, one in the morning, I get woken up with a knock at the door. Well I say ‘a knock’, but it was more like a couple of guys on timpani drums. I open the door, dazed, confused and bleary eyed only to be greeted by a large angry man who spends 10 minutes swearing at me and threatening me about the petrol leak. He wants me to come down with him and look, but he doesn't know that Landsberrys are runners, not fighters...and he’s a big man! He’s threatening to call the fire brigade and also to push me in the direction of my maker rather earlier than expected if anything should happen to his children as a result of this alleged petrol leak. He counts to 3 to give me time to make a decision to go down to the carpark with him, but I figure I might just close the door instead.
So I wait until he goes off...his fists clenched...about to call the fire brigade. I then go down to the garage and plan to move the De Soto out on the street, just to appease him. And then suddenly out pops the man...eeek! We debate the issue again. Well, I'm not sure you can actually have that many swear words and still call it a ‘debate’, but let's just say it was an interesting conversation. So I bend down and dip my hand into the puddle and take a big scoop and drink it...and guess what? Its water...that's right water. I take a second scoop and drink it again. He's at a loss now, but asks me not to keep drinking it. I say to him, "But it's not petrol". "No”, he says, “but it's very dirty water".
Having made my point, I grab a hold of the moral high ground, as my newfound friend relaxes back into the full impact of his error. I even introduce myself to him and say I'll move it out on the street anyway. He says there's no need to, but I do it anyway. And as I drive out of the car park, he says, "It's a nice car by the way". He seems quite a bit smaller now.
That morning, before I head to work having grabbed a few undisturbed hours of sleep following my surprise guest, I get an email from my mechanic, just to check how things are going. I tell him about the 3 days adventure I've had, but say all is generally good apart from that. And then I figure I'll take the car to work just to prove it doesn't leak petrol. I get a quarter of the way there and BANG! The clutch doesn't work anymore. I manage to roll it and park it precariously in a tiny slightly off-road siding in peak hour on Mowbray Road in Chatswood. And just then the owner of the house pulls up and wants to go into her driveway. What are the odds! And I can't move the car because there's no power to the wheels.
So I get it towed and turns out that I've managed to shear the left hand rear axle half shaft in two.
She's back now...better than ever...for now. Ah the joys of owning a classic car! But I do LOVE it!
And I wouldn't part with it.
POSTSCRIPT: October 2024 – That first year or so I think I spent about $15,000 at the mechanics getting her back in shape. I was somewhat surprised to learn that I needed to replace all five tyres, until the mechanic told me the current ones dated to before the moon landing. The petrol tank had to be removed, cut in half and emptied of stones and grass (WTF). The engine caught alight. It overheated and boiled over MANY times. There were flat tyres and tows a plenty. And I paid a surprise $900 to have it detailed for my stepdaughter’s wedding, when it rained so no one saw it anyway. And there’s much more.
One of many tows
But she’s still ticking along down here in Bowral. And she’s approaching her 100th year in 2032, which is the same anniversary as the Sydney Harbour Bridge. My Dad, aged 15 walked on the newly opened Bridge that day, and I have the hope that I might drive across the Bridge in the De Soto on that shared 100th anniversary. Stay tuned.
Opening day of the Sydney Harbour Bridge 1932 - Alf is there somewhere
Written by Rob Landsberry, last updated 30 October 2024