CLASSIC, VINTAGE AND VETERAN MOTORING FOR OVER 70 YEARS
No. 367 December 2020/January 2021
NEW ZEALAND’S FOREMOST HISTORICAL MOTORING MAGAZINE $7.95
9 418979 000012
1924 DELAGE ROAD TEST – ARIEL SQUARE FOUR NATIONAL VETERAN RALLY – MARKETPLACE MAGAZINE OF THE VINTAGE CAR CLUB OF NEW ZEALAND
HIN BE
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The Delage has earned its patina through honourable use over more than six decades of Jamieson ownership. The front axle bears comparison with the earlier photographs.
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FRANCE’S FINEST CAR MAX JAMIESON’S 1924 DELAGE DI C WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPHS BY JOHN KING
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Vintage Car Club members come in all sorts of groups and sub-groups relating to their vehicles and ownerships. Some like to collect multiple cars, motorcycles or trucks; some specialise in certain marques; some change things around, apparently on a whim; and some are noted for such longevity of ownership that a particular car will always be regarded as belonging to that member—even during subsequent ownerships. Max Jamieson falls into the latter category. The Waitemata Branch stalwart has earned his 60-year VCC badge and has owned his 1924 DI C Delage since 1958. Not that it was his first vintage car. Still in his teens in Dunedin, he owned a Model T Ford, a Dodge 4 and another DI Delage before this one, and somewhere in there is also mention of a brief fling with a Fiat 501S. Andrew Anderson recalls: “In Mornington lived a young Max Jamieson, petrolhead to be. Opposite his abode across the main street, where now a supermarket reigns, there used to be the Mornington Garage which provided help, advice and support to Sharpe, Hunt, Grimsdale and yours truly for 4½ Bentley, 2 litre Ansaldo, 40/50 Napier, bullnose Morris and other beasties, to the perpetual wonder of said young Jamieson, and as the years rolled on we all took delight in his acquisition of a very nice DI Delage.” Max served his apprenticeship at New Zealand Railways’ Hillside Workshops, starting in 1955 as the last of the locally made 4-8-2 JA
COMPETITION Louis Delâge was always an enthusiastic driver and, like so many of his contemporaries, saw the publicity benefits of motoring competition. Delages were raced on a regular basis from the 1906 four-day Coupe des Voiturettes (second place for the Type A of works driver Ménard and mechanic Lucas) and winning the fourth Indianapolis 500 in 1914 as well as major grands prix. Even as Delage et Cie slid into voluntary liquidation in 1935 and the rights to the proud name were sold off to Delahaye, Delâge was allowed to create a separate racing company that could make a maximum of 12 racing cars per year—although the days of Grand Prix Delage racing were long over. Staying at the top of motor racing wasn’t easy — the 1927 title of world champion motor manufacturer cost Delage 7 million francs, and the company withdrew from top competition at the end of that year — but it did lead to technical innovation. From 1911 the racing cars bore no resemblance to the run-of-the-mill production, and some, such as the Type DH V-12 of 10,570cc which briefly took the land speed record in July 1924 at 230.548 km/hr, were one-offs. The most successful of all racing Delages, in terms of races won over several years, was the straight-eight supercharged Type 15 s
class steam locomotives was being built. Somehow he became the go-to man to overhaul the booster trailing bogie of NZR’s 4-8-4 KB class, but he considers himself fortunate to have had a thorough ground in all matters engineering—except welding. “There was a specialist welder at Hillside,” says Max. “He never let anybody else do any, so I’ve always considered myself only an average welder.” After some of the more mundane vintage cars, Max moved into Delages. His first, bought locally, was a DI with no body to speak of, but that sort of thing didn’t stop a young lad hooning around Dunedin with a couple of seats tenuously attached to a chassis. Then another DI, a DI C (Colonial) was advertised in Christchurch, complete with body and so a bit more respectable in most ways. It had been owned by a group of air force types who used it for
pig hunting in the Canterbury foothills and, with its correct 880 x 145 beaded edge tyres unobtainable 60-plus years ago, had been modified with 16 in x 800 wheel rims from some sort of military vehicle. Attaching those rims to the original Delage centrelock wheel centres was achieved by the simple expedient of cutting off all the spokes and welding eight lengths of flat steel, four inners and four outers, as a crude imitation of Bugatti’s trademark aluminium blade wheels. The drive south across the flat and straight Canterbury Plains soon brought to Max’s notice a weakness in the execution of the wheel modifications. Although close, the rims weren’t quite concentric with the centres, and every now and again, as the wheel revolutions synchronised, the car would develop an interesting if unsettling cantering motion. So the Delage needed new wheels, and Max built up a set using more readily obtainable wellside rims. His noted expertise with wire wheels, thus started early, continued to the present day although deliberately being tapered off. In its heyday Delage enjoyed the sobriquet “France’s finest car”. The Delage Automobile Company was started in 1905 by Louis Delâge (he has the French accent, the circumflex; the car doesn’t). After graduating with an engineering degree from Arts et Métiers Paris Tech and following military service in Algeria and working for five years at the state railways in the Gironde region, he joined Peugeot in 1903 where he was in charge of design studies and testing. The first Delages were modest and conventional two-seaters powered by single-cylinder De Dion-Bouton engines of 1059 cc (9 hp Type A) or 496 cc (4.5 hp Type B), with most of the rest of the components sourced from external suppliers. The company had a stand at that December’s Salon d’Automobile in Paris. The following year a 3,000 square metre factory was established for proper manufacturing and the 6 hp Type D of intermediate size was introduced.
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The 1927 Delage Type 15 S 8 was all-conquering in Grand Prix racing that year. Three of the four team cars still exist, and this example, no 1, is by far the most original, having spent all its later career in the USA where it placed 7th in the 1929 Indianapolis 500, driven by Louis Chiron. Seen here in the Briggs Cunningham Museum in California in 1966, it now resides in Florida as part of the Miles Collier collection at the Revs Institute. (Photo Tom King)
Max Jamieson campaigns the Delage at the Waitemata Branch’s Chelsea hillclimb in 1984 when the car was a mere 60 years old. Max looks forward to driving it on its 100th birthday.
s The engine-turned dashboard (this is a quality French car, after all) contains the usual instruments and controls. Hand brake and gear levers look identical but there’s little chance of confusing them, and the gearbox reflects the rest of the driving experience by being well mannered and without obvious vices.
s DI C engine has a Max Jamieson-designed aluminium cylinder head with twin SU carburettors mounted on the head instead of the side of the block below. Coil and distributor replace the RB magneto.
▼ The Colonial DI model with increased track had an axle weakness and caused this ‘failure to proceed’ during the 2006 R’Oil Can Rally. The trolley jack is part of the standard kit Bryan Wyness carried in his XK120 Jaguar and allowed him to tow the Delage, with adequate supervision, well clear of a nasty drop at the apex of a T junction.
▼ Max Jamieson’s Delage is rumoured to have a hood, but nobody in the Waitemata Branch can remember ever seeing it erected.
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MOTORING MEMORIES
47YG as commissioned by Liston Wilson in 1922. Here in Auckland, New Zealand.
THE SALVATION OF SILVER GHOST 47YG WORDS AND PHOTOS JOHN STEWART
One day in March 1986 I had a call from good friend and one-time neighbor Trevor Hudson to ask whether I would like to buy a Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost. Hudson was General Manager of European Distributors, a Giltrap subsidiary with the New Zealand Rolls-Royce agency. It transpired he had had a call from an attorney whose client owned the car and was in serious financial difficulty. The bank decreed he must sell the Rolls-Royce to raise the funds and deposit them in the bank within three days to avoid foreclosure on his house. Although I had spent a good deal of my spare time over many years restoring old cars and motorcycles including Model A Ford, Vauxhall, 3 litre Bentley, Stanley Steamer and many others, never in my wildest dreams had I visualized a Silver Ghost as a project. However, after some pretty intense negotiations with the lawyer I bought the car for $27,000 and had it transported to my home in Auckland. There was a touching moment when the handover by the owner and his charming wife was taking place. She asked to be excused and shortly after returned to the room with something wrapped in a striped pyjama top. She unwrapped the contents and with tears in her eyes handed me the Flying Lady mascot from the car which she had kept in the bedroom closet for many years. I soon found that I had taken on a major project that was to dominate my life for a number of years. Before going into that, let me sketch the history of 47YG. The car was commissioned by Liston Wilson, a director of Wilson and Horton, publishers of New Zealand’s largest daily 26 Beaded Wheels
paper, the New Zealand Herald, and came off test on 17 October 1922. Wilson ordered a Barker tourer body, “the same as on his earlier Daimler” which in my opinion was not particularly elegant. When the car was ready for delivery, Wilson sent his chauffeur to England to participate in Rolls-Royce’s School of Instruction. He duly graduated and returned to New Zealand with the car, known as Gentle Jane, and a large packing case of recommended spare parts, most of which were never used. After about nine years of use Wilson had the tourer body removed and an upright sedan body built by DSC Cousins and Cousins, a well-established coachbuilder in Auckland. Incidentally, that firm rebodied a number of Silver Ghosts over the years including one as a fire engine and another as an ambulance during WWII. After using the car through the 1930s in sedan form, Wilson sold it circa 1938 to a George Tremayn of Papatoetoe. Tremayn had established himself as a specialist in the repair of Rolls-Royces, and on occasion claimed he was an official Rolls-Royce service
Replacement sedan body built by DCS Cousins and Cousins, circa 1932.
agent, which was not correct. He set about highly modifying the sedan body by lowering it on the chassis, fitting a large built-on trunk, adding new wheels and tyres as well as a new steering wheel, flushing the rivets on the hood, relocating the battery from the running boards to below the floorboards, extending the rear of the body over the springs, and reshaping the guards. He also built a front apron and raised the headlights. The job took three and half years but cost him less than ÂŁ10. The overall result was a much more handsome body of more modern styling. In the redesign the lower body rails were located just above the running boards and were below the front shackle of the rear springs. If in time any attention would ever have to be given to the springs or shackles then the whole side panelling and frame would have had to be removed to access the spring. During the war and immediately afterwards the car passed through a number of hands, including a vintage car enthusiast, a plumber, a taxi driver, and others. Surprisingly it escaped the ignominy of having a gas producer fitted during the war, the common fate of large-engine cars when New Zealand was desperately short of petroleum products. In due course 47YG was acquired by Frank Kerslake, a wealthy property developer of Rotorua. Unfortunately the car was stored out in the open and suffered severely from the sulphurous Rotorua atmosphere that turned every bright part jet black, and the damp climate started severe rot in the untreated pine framing of the body. So, this is what I had let myself in for. On inspection the body was found to be totally beyond repair and could not be removed in one piece. Neither could the panels be readily removed as they were attached by literally thousands of tiny panel pins. The solution was to pass a chain through the back windows, attach it to a tow bar, and rip the rotten body from the chassis. Undignified but practical. All hardware, instruments, and other useful bits were of course carefully preserved. Time
As purchased by John Stewart from F Kerslake, Rotorua, 1 April 1986.
Sedan body of 1932 modified by G Tremayn, circa 1938, pictured used as a taxi by McKeating in the 1950s.
now to consider design of a replacement body and restoration of the chassis. I had decided I wanted a touring body of somewhat crisper lines than the original Barker and after much research of body styles selected a Barker-type sports tourer but with a slightly lower cowl line. I believe the final result is appealing but acknowledge that the windscreen is about two inches too low. The engine was found to be totally worn out but the rest of the mechanicals were in surprisingly good order. The back end, gearbox, steering box, and steering gear required no attention. Wheel bearings and spring shackles needed replacing. The engine appeared as though it had never been dismantled. The crankcase contained an unbelievable amount of thick black sludge. Piston rings were broken, big end and main bearings shot, and pistons worn out. To add to my woes, the previously mentioned Tremayn had removed the air pump and replaced it with an electric fuel pump but had also removed the cylinder wall oiler valve and all the lovely little fittings on the cylinder blocks. The starting carburettor was also gone as was the clutch stop and the firewall-mounted resistance unit. I was fortunately able to borrow all these bits from another Ghost to use as patterns for new castings and have replacements machined. I found an engineer who had recently made patterns and core boxes for a set of Alpine Eagle pistons for an Australian customer and he was happy to repeat the order for me so I ended up with an engine of slightly higher compression. The rest of the engine reconditioning was entrusted to a very skilled engineer who made a superb job of crankshaft grinding, cylinder boring, bearing pouring and so on. I was very fortunate to have the help of Steve Litten, well known these days in US Ghost circles, in the final assembly of the engine. I would like to interrupt this narration with a little story about him. When the car was at the body builders, for whom Litten was then working, the hub nuts were sent to local electroplaters for attention. Unfortunately the “boy� left them in the stripping bath
Heading for Auckland, April 1986.
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