Text and Photos by Howard Benjamin and Steve Temple

It was dark and stormy night. Well, it was at least dark. When the phone rang, the caller ID was not familiar, yet something told me to answer it, albeit with a sense of foreboding. The person on the line intoned, like a voice from the grave—or at least from a real spooky place, ”I’m a member of the Secret Car Club.” Sorry bub, never hear of it.

After a long pause, “I met you late one Friday night at Cruisin’ Grand,” he added. “Would you like a tour of the Vault?” You mean, as in a bank? Why not? Might be a few bucks in it for me. 

“No, no, Petersen Automotive Museum’s Vault.” Not having heard of The Vault, I asked him what he was referring to. He said that was where the museum stored a large number of cars, some of which had been hidden for many years. He added that the Petersen was scheduled to close for at least a year to do a complete, and it would be the last chance to not only see the cars on display, but a rare chance to possibly see the vehicles in The Vault.

This piqued my curiosity, and like Mike Hammer on a Mickey Spillane case, I had to find out more. I found out through the Petersen that was indeed a Vault, filled with about 125 vehicles of all stripes. My confidential source further added that it was not usually open to visitors, and that photography was not allowed. I asked if an exception could be made for a special feature story. Long pause. He said he’d get back to me.

I figured that was about it, until just before five o’clock, the phone rang and it was the mysterious person from the Petersen Museum informing me that I had been approved for a one-hour personal tour of The Vault. And not just to see the cars, but that I could also photograph them. But with one qualification: I would only have one hour to do the shoot. He advised, “Be at the museum early and we’ll make this happen.” I thanked him for his efforts and assured him that I would not only be there early, I would be there before the museum opened. No secret handshake or password needed.

On the scheduled day, I arrived at the museum ready to make the most of this rare opportunity. Upon entering, I met with an imposing security guard, who after confirming my credentials, paged the person I had spoken to at the museum. I was quickly led toward the rear of the museum and instructed to wait.

Sensing that time was of the essence, I was glad that my guide showed up almost immediately, and the doors quickly closed behind us as we entered an ornately trimmed elevator. It shuddered ever so slightly as it descended to the subterranean level beneath the building, one that dated back well over half a century. When we reached the lowest level, the doors opened into a very large, dimly lit room with a gloomy, Orwellian atmosphere. As my eyes adjusted to the lower light, I could see that the darkness was pierced by illumination that cast sometimes eerie shadows on the numerous vehicles patiently lined up along the walls, some separated from each other by concrete columns that supported the building structure.

With no time to spare, I immediately set to work photographing as many of the vehicles I could in the limited time allowed. The first cars were from the brass era, and their bright colors almost made them appear happy to have visitors, perhaps for the first time in months. Among them, a bright yellow 1913 Mercer Type 35-J with a monocle windshield that reminded me of Teddy Roosevelt. The Mercer was in beautiful condition, and looked ready to make the leap back in time 100 years to compete in the races where it had been so successful early in the 20th Century. 

Car after car, row after row, so many that they faded into the darkness, all awaited our attention. As I photographed the vehicles, it almost seemed as if they knew that we had come there to see them and were delighted to have company.

Open cars like a spectacular 1929 DuPont Model G Speedster and a 1934 LaSalle roadster looked ready for the red carpet at the Rodeo Drive Concours d’Elegance. Not to be overlooked, closed cars such as the revolutionary 1948 Tucker represented the dreams of ambitious, visionary men like Preston Tucker. Customs by Ed “Big Daddy” Roth, Troy Tepanier and Boyd Coddington also appeared as we walked through the rooms. Even red-blooded American Muscle like a 1967 Dodge RO 23 Hemi Coronet and a rare 1968 Chevrolet Biscayne 4-door sedan powered by an L72 427 were found lurking in the shadows.

As the clock ticked on relentlessly, we struggled to see and chronicle as many of these incredible vehicles as we could in the time allotted. As I photographed them, I felt as though we had uncovered a vast automotive treasure, and a vision of Indiana Jones passed through my mind. It was as though we were automotive archeologists who were passing through time, like a rapid slideshow of cars that made history.