When I first met one of these elegant automobiles in Paris, I embarrassed myself. I intended to compliment a fellow on his lovely car when I said in my college French, "C'est une belle Delahaye," pronouncing the name "della-hay." The fellow scowled in oh-so-French indignation and responded "Ceci, c'est une Delahaye!"--pronounced "del-uh-eye," that middle "uh" so subtle it almost eluded my American ears.
At least I got the first part right: The car in question, like the car featured here today, was indeed belle, as in beautiful. Delahaye was one of a handful of classics that epitomized the Golden Age of automobiles built by the Grands Carrossiers of France. In more familiar terms, these were the cars of the rich and famous, in a decade when millions of people around the world stood in breadlines for food and wore out shoe soles in search of work.
In the thirties, being rich was rare indeed. Yet those lucky few who were still wanted the best, and one of the best was Delahaye. By 1930, Delahaye was one of France's most venerable automobile companies. Its founder, Emile Delahaye, was born a generation before our Civil War began. By the time he was 35, he ran a ceramics manufacturing business in Tours. He rode the crest of the first wave of experimentation with steam and internal combustion engines, patenting his own gas engine in 1888. He displayed his first automobile at the very first Paris Motor Show, held in a corner of the 1894 Cycle Show. Two years later, at the age of 53, he piloted one of his own autos in the Paris-Marseilles road race; his car was the first to race on pneumatic tires (the two Delahayes finished 4th and 6th overall). When Delahaye's health began to fail, his customer and friend Georges Morane, together with Morane's brother-in-law, invested in the company, allowing a move to larger quarters in Paris. Delahaye retired to the Riviera in 1901, leaving the Morane family in charge. The Moranes in turn hired a very capable manager named Charles Weiffenbach, who would serve the Societe des Automobiles Delahaye to the very end.
Through the teens and twenties, the vast majority of Delahayes produced were well-built but modest, utilitarian vehicles. Trucks and marine engines were an important part of the company; it was Delahaye who first motorized the Paris Fire Department. After the Great War, auto sales grew steadily, but so did competition, from the dozens of other small French manufacturers as well as from companies like Renault and Citroen, who were experimenting with mass production.
Weiffenbach realized something drastic had to be done to distinguish his automobiles from the rest. According to legend, Ettore Bugatti himself told Weiffenbach that his Delahayes were too slow and too heavy, "as heavy as your fire department trucks." Whether it was Le Patron's recommendation for lightness and speed, or the memory of the founders' fondness for racing, Weiffenbach decided to build only high-quality, high-performance luxury cars.
The timing was fortuitous, as the Great Depression would soon ensure that only the wealthy could afford an automobile. The first of the new line was introduced in 1933 as the Superluxe at the Paris Salon. From 1934 on, as authors and Delahaye aficionados Jean-Pierre Dauliac and Richard Adatto put it, Delahaye "became brilliant on the road and successful with the public. It became the car men gave to their mistresses." Purchase of Delage in 1935, manufacturer of similarly luxurious and sporting automobiles, secured the company's position as the carmaker for the haute bourgeoisie, a comfortable chunk of the creme de la creme.
The Delahaye 135, as the new car was called, was powered by a 120-bhp 3.2-liter six-cylinder engine. The street version was an instant success, and race and record-setting versions filled leader boards and record books over the next three years. Twenty special competition models were built for pre-selected customers in 1936, powered by a 3.5-liter engine with three carburetors and a choice of a mechanical gearbox or, in 1937, the pre-selective Wilson or Cotal.
The latter was an interesting innovation: The "gearshift lever" mounted near the steering wheel actually shifts no gears; instead, it opens and closes electrical contacts that activate and de-activate electromagnetic clutches in the gearbox. The conventional foot-activated clutch is only needed to start and stop the car. Two new road cars soon evolved from the 135, both called 135M: one, offered in 1938, came with the 3.5-liter engine but only one carburetor, producing 90 bhp at 3600 rpm; the second offered 130 bhp at 3900 rpm thanks to the use of three inverted carburetors. On the sporting side, a special V12 Delahaye began a successful but short racing career in 1938, winning a first, second and fourth at Le Mans and vanquishing the almost unbeatable Germans at the Pau Grand Prix.
The last model of this lineage debuted that same year as the 135 MS. Once again the basis was the reliable six-cylinder engine, this time with three carburetors and special inlet ports and a six-port exhaust manifold. Horsepower reached 135 bhp at 4100 rpm, and top speeds registered between 155 kph (96.3 mph) and 170 kph (105.6 mph). That difference can be accounted for by the varying weight of the different coachbuilt bodies.
French carrossiers were by now known worldwide as the ultimate purveyors of swank, elegant design. A few of the names, like Figoni et Falaschi and Saoutchik, remain famous today as their designs were fantastically extravagant.
Others, like Henri Chapron, Franay, Letourner & Marchand, and our coachbuilder here, Guillore, offered more muted interpretations of the sweeping scoops and skirts offered by their more flamboyant colleagues.
The Second World War forced Delahaye to revert to truck manufacturing, but the transitions out of and back into civilian production were relatively painless. Delahaye was one of the first companies to show a new car after the war, at the first post-war Paris Show in 1946. That car was the one you see here. This Guillore Cabriolet show car was "all new" and "all old" at the same time. The 135 MS engine came through with no changes from before the war, and the body clearly wore the lines of the tried-and-true late-thirties style.
Still, there are interesting touches, particularly the rumble seat, a rarity on any coachbuilt French car; Guillore thoughtfully provided a chrome step-up on the right rear fender. The interior is finished in beautiful rosewood and comes complete with custom-fitted pigskin luggage.
One striking design touch special to this car is the repeating pattern in the bright work. Three long chrome bars form the front bumper, and two separate sets of three bars adorn the rear on either side of the rear tire. Three chrome strips define the side front grilles, and another set decorates each rear wheel skirt. Even the exhaust carries out the triple scheme, with three matching pipes, "like little tuning forks," says owner Charles Swimmer.
Swimmer has a collection of fine automobiles, including two Delahayes. This one he found in Kansas, in fairly good condition, though prior owners had used it for extensive touring. Still, Swimmer planned to show the car, so a full restoration was required. He chose Alan Taylor, whose Escondido, California, shop specializes in fine French and British classics. The restoration took about 14 months, but just a few weeks before its appearance at the 2000 Pebble Beach Concours d'Elegance, Swimmer found to his surprise that Taylor wasn't quite finished. "We took it to a local show of about 200 cars," Mr. Swimmer explained, "and it won best of show, but then the next time I saw the car, it was all taken apart again. Alan said, 'It's not good enough.' He took apart the whole car, bumpers, windshield, everything!" The extra work paid off at Pebble: The car earned first place in the European Grand Touring-Postwar class.
While Guillore, in the Paris suburb of Courbevoie, produced more Delahaye bodies than ever in 1948 (and a few Bugattis in the early fifties), it was the beginning of the end for the grand French carrossiers and the small custom manufacturers like Delahaye. As if aware it might be their last opportunity, almost every independent French coachbuilder offered their own version of the new Delahayes (145, 175, 178 and 180 models followed the 135s) at the Paris salons over the next few years, but it was too late. The heavy--almost two-ton--hand-built bodies were now hopelessly dated, and worse, they cost as much as six times more than popular new economy cars like the Renault 4CV.
Delahaye's 235, its final offering and introduced in 1951, did wear a much simpler, more rounded (though still heavy) body, but its underpowered engine was basically a tuned 135. Few sold, and the end was sealed in 1954 when the workers, angry that the company was to be merged with Hotchkiss, burned down the administrative offices. Where the factory once stood, the Paris National School for Biology and Chemistry is now found.
But the marque lives on, in the loving care of an international band of aenthusiasts gathered together into the Delahaye Club. You can visit its website at www.delahaye.asso.fr. There's an English translation provided, so you don't even need to think about how to pronounce this fine automobile's venerable name.