According to one small boy, Jim Boag’s 1927 La Salle is fitted with wooden mag wheels

That very original description of the wheels on this car came from a boy spotting this La Salle at a car show. His description is not as silly as we might think, and speaking as an old school teacher it impresses me because clearly he was a lad able to make associations between old and new information, something some adult friends have trouble with.

Jim bought this car off the late Peter MacDonald of Whangarei. Peter had bought the car as a tow truck in about 1962, and drove it around in that form.

Tracey McKenzie, a very well-known and highly competent restorer, wanted the car and he struck a deal with Peter whereby Tracey could have the La Salle and restore it — however, if he decided to sell the car, it first had to be offered to Peter.

Not an unusual arrangement. I remember striking a similar deal with my brother over a BMW bike I couldn’t tell management that I was buying — so I let my brother purchase it on the basis that it would be offered to me downstream at the same money should he want to dispose of it. Bugger’s still got it — probably waiting for me to shuffle off! The La Salle was very well restored by Tracey, and it eventually did go back to Peter. The only failing was to do with the vacuum fuel tank causing rough running, but that was solved by installing an electric fuel pump — and, of course, a modern oil filter, two upgrades that make absolute sense.

Checking originality

Jim’s not sure if the motor fitted to this car is the original. He knows that many years ago another one was picked up, even though the owners, who’d stored it in a shed, said it had done
a million miles and would be worn out. When it was stripped down it was perfect — what else would you expect from one of these giants?

Maurice Hendry, a well-known kiwi authority on Americana, has checked out this La Salle and thinks the body is a very faithful rebuild — remember that this car was once a tow-truck. The restorer got a film and the plans from the American La Salle club, so they weren’t short of hard data. Jim has all this stuff with the car, which is probably NZ new and was RHD as standard.

On The Road

These cars are great drivers — you could cruise to Wellington and back without much commitment, although at very low speeds you do need to swing on the wheel a bit. There’s a huge reserve of power, no synchro but a smooth gear change nevertheless.

On the dashboard is a chrome steel fascia grouping the usual drum speedo, plus trip miles and total mileage. The oil gauge, ammeter, fuel, clock and water temperature gauges are all typical of the period. The fully pressurised oil system has stood the motor in good stead. The suspension is a bit primitive by today’s standards, but despite being cart sprung on all four corners with beam axles and no shocks, it works well. The ride is excellent, although I suspect this old girl weighs a couple of tons so absorbs its own shocks easily.

I’m not a Yank Tank afficianado, but I do always concede that if you like your motoring smooth, safe, and reliable, albeit boring, nobody does it better than the Americans.

We climbed into Jim’s king-sized coupe, he pulled the starter button (no ignition key), slipped into first gear and we cruised off with the lovely sound of a large flathead V8 mumbling through the firewall like a guard dog behind a front door. Another click put us into second, and then third followed. At this point we were cruising quietly, so Jim pushed on the loud pedal and the old girl showed me an astonishing change of pace, clearly perfectly at home in Auckland’s traffic, side roads and motorways alike.

Sixty or seventy miles (or 96 to 112 of those piddly European klicks) per hour are easy cruising and in top cog you can hear the firing order, I reckon (would I exaggerate?), and I became aware of the immense potential sitting under the bonnet.

A huge country such as the USA needs cars able to undertake transcontinental trip after trip. Sitting on the sprung wool-trimmed seats with wood-grained trims and other soft wool cloth headlining and door trims we were ready to make a run for it to Christchurch. There’s no doubt this car is made for that kind of journey, and I believe that it wouldn’t be a bad trip at all. On the motorway we cruised at the legally permitted pace, and I felt perfectly at ease.

The Inspiration.

Funnily enough, in a couple of sources I’ve read that Harley Earl — the stylist responsible for the La Salle — went on a European trip prior to the initial design of these cars and fell in love with Hispano-Suiza. In one resource book making this claim, there’s a picture of a mid-’20s Hispano showing the grille bonnet line and high mounted, shapely chrome headlights — sure enough, the likeness to the La Salle is umistakeable. Although that said, I must say that from the windscreen back the Hispano is a much more rakish creation.

Jim’s only dissatisfaction is the paint scheme, and I agree it’s very bland — a porridge-coloured and chocolate two-tone. Jim is actually a painter and panelbeater, so the answer lies in his own hands. However, since the interior colour scheme is a lovely match the problem won’t be easily solved — but this car does deserve something more inspirational.

Incidentally, sitting in Jim’s garage is the Maxwell Beach Racer (ex Jimmy Baird), and Jim is contemplating selling it if anybody is interested.

La salle 1927-1940

Note those years, Jim has one La Salle from each year and today I’m having a look at his example from the marque’s initial year — 1927.

La Salle was a marketting exercise by Cadillac, which put the marque out as a cheaper line, rather defeating that purpose by maintaining Cadillac standards and quality. An interesting departure from the norm was having them designed in totality by Harley J Earl from General Motors (GM was owner of all these marques, of course), and that was an unusual practice then.

These initial cars came with a 5.0-litre side-valve V8 — a classic American motor, probably capable of running reliably for about a 100 years. Between 1927 and 1940 they increased the capacity of these V8s to 5.8 litres. However, they also produced a straight-eight version of 4.2 litres in 1934.

The S8 went on until 1937 before reverting and Jim’s other La Salle, from 1940, has another side-valve V8, very similar-looking to this initial car.

The 1937 replacement V8 was actually a genuine Cadillac — as opposed to a La Salle version. Production that year hit 32,000, but the following year was another depression one and production dropped to 14,675. It took until 1940 for numbers to climb again — to 24,130. Made no difference as it turned out, though, because they were squeezed out of the market by pricing issues, they were too much car for the cheaper market, and people preferred to pay the extra few bucks for a badged Cadillac whilst the non-Cadillac people could buy an Oldsmobile or a Buick — equally well made cars, and of course there were plenty of very fine cheaper makes such as Ford, Chevrolet and so on.

In the American market there wasn’t any room for the faint-hearted, Yanks knew what they wanted and weren’t interested in any car that didn’t match their expectation of how a ‘proper’ car should be — unless it was a cute toy car strictly for playing with.

Words & Photos: Penn McKay