1979 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz – Preserving Dignity While Depending On The Kindness Of Strangers

We’ve all been on the receiving end of the kindness of strangers; it’s a key element of being human, helping others in their moment of need. It might just be a minor courtesy, the lubricant that makes daily life more bearable. But all-too often, many of us come to a point in our lives when we are in need of some more significant aid, like medical care, food or shelter. Due to significant holes in our social safety net, all too often that aid or care is dependent on the generosity and kindness of others.

I found this 1979 Cadillac Eldorado in front of Eugene’s White Bird Clinic, which has been providing free medical, dental and behavioral services since its founding in 1970 by a group of volunteer medical workers and other concerned citizens. The Cadillac, despite being stuffed with the owner’s belongings, is obviously still providing an element of dignity to its owner that’s very hard to come by when one is having to rely on the kindness of strangers. I know; I’ve been there.

As I’ve written about before, I dropped out of school and left home in Towson, MD. shortly after my 18th birthday in 1971 and hitchhiked west, California being my presumed goal. Thanks to a blizzard, I sought shelter in the familiar environment of Iowa City, where we had lived some years earlier. I had $35 in my pocket, which lasted about four days in the cheapest hotel and restaurants in town. Right about when that ran out I saw a flyer for a Free Lunch program, in the basement of the Wesley House Methodist Student Center. And I thought there was no such thing?

It existed solely due to the efforts of one John Tinker (right), who along with his sister Mary Beth had instigated a Supreme Court milestone for Student’s Free Speech when they and the ACLU sued the Des Moines School District after being suspended for wearing these anti-war armbands to their high school in 1965. It took four years, but in 1969 the Supreme Court ruled in their favor, saying: “It can hardly be argued that either students or teachers shed their constitutional rights to freedom of speech or expression at the schoolhouse gate.”

This decision didn’t just allow the wearing of armbands and such; it had a sweeping impact, disallowing the very common dress, hair and grooming codes then so common in public high schools and colleges. This decision played a very significant role in the unleashing of the massive changes in the sixties and seventies.

Shortly before I arrived in Iowa City, John decided there could be such a thing as free lunch, despite the utter lack of any existing governmental or other social supports for such a thing. Food stamps were difficult to get back then, as one had to prove that one had a kitchen with full cooking equipment. That essentially eliminated indigent folks, me included, although I didn’t even really know about their existence at the time.

It’s hard for me to explain to younger generations how relatively expensive food and difficult it was to come by back then for a broke young kid with a very active metabolism.  We are literally drowning in food nowadays—often to our detriment—and although homelessness is still a very real issue, food is not. In Eugene there’s multiple free “restaurants” run by social service non-profits, food stamps, food banks, and volunteers who set up food distribution operations, like the Eugene Burrito Brigade (above) that has served over 100,000 burritos in the last few years.

The Free Lunch program had no such volunteers or supports. The idea that John Tinker had was that folks would take turns scrounging for food, from markets, the co-op, individuals, or buy the ingredients if they could, bring them to the kitchen in the basement of the Wesley House and serve it to whoever showed up. The food was extremely basic: rice and beans were the default, but often there were pleasant surprises. It quickly fostered a sense of community, and those that could signed up to supply and cook, and others like me…just showed up to eat, although I did help in the kitchen, washing up and such.

Like so many idealistic concepts lacking amore solid basis of support it eventually petered out, although I see that Iowa City still has a Free Lunch Program, this one initiated in 1984. But by that it was failing, I had found a job, putting my new-found skills to work as a busboy-dishwasher at a restaurant, which also provided me with free meals. I had solved that problem, at least for the time being.

And it wasn’t just a free lunch; John Tinker was then living for free in the dirt floor basement of an old house that some folks he knew rented. And when he saw that I needed a place to sleep, he invited me in. And eventually a couple of other young guys drifted in too. The Free Housing project. After I got my job, I drifted out into a rented room, but the free digs in the depths of an Iowa winter was as crucial or more so than the free lunches.

But before long I found myself back at the basement of Wesley House for a different reason: to treat a very unwelcome and painful case of gonorrhea. 1971 also marked the beginning of the Iowa City Free Medical Clinic, also initiated by a group of idealistic medical students and doctors from the University Medical Center. Initially it was just a few idealistic medical students and practitioners volunteering their time donated medical supplies once a week at various locations, but by 1972 they had found a more regular location in the same basement kitchen and community room in the Wesley House.

Although I’m an avid skinny dipper, having to drop one’s pants to have a medical student, especially a female one, swab the discharge from the end of one’s festering penis, test it and then sit you down with a whole bottle of penicillin pills (all they had available) and a tall glass of water to down them all in one go was quite humiliating. Especially so the second time it happened, when a girl friend I had dumped a couple of months earlier encountered me there and burned holes in me with her eyes in the waiting room. Did she guess why I was there? The self-inflicted indignities of youth; and no, I did not drive there in my vintage Cadillac. I walked.

Although the White Bird Clinic was started in 1970 the same way, it has of course evolved into something more substantial—as has the Iowa City Free Medical Clinic—and of course its funding now comes mostly from numerous governmental sources as well as corporate and individual donations. Their substance abuse programs have been a critical factor in trying to stem the tide of addiction.

White Bird also initiated and runs the CAHOOTS (Crisis Assistance Helping Out On The Streets) program, providing intervention and support for mental health and drug-related crises and issues that would otherwise have required police response. It’s been held up as a model for its ability to provide such an alternative, and in 2021, federal legislation directed $1 billion for such services; several cities have set up similar programs. My younger son was the beneficiary of their intervention several times when he had multiple-drug overdoses.

A lot has changed in our social safety net; it’s massively more comprehensive than 50 or so years ago, yet there are of course still significant holes. This is where the kindness of strangers, or ideally, neighbors comes in. I am fortunate to live in a cohesive older neighborhood where there’s still a very real concern for neighbors in need.

When we arrived here in 1993, we soon became aware of a property two blocks down our alley where the house was clearly unoccupied but someone was living in a tent in the yard. And that’s still the case in today (above). Pam is a fixture in our neighborhood; she has schizophrenia and decided to move out of her house for reasons related to her diagnosis. Neighbors have supported her by paying for an outhouse service and trimming her trees and yard and helping with a few other maintenance issues. She continues to live outside year-round. And although the houses all around her are in the $500-600k range, nobody complains. In fact, they’re quite protective of her.  We don’t see her as much anymore as she’s getting older like the rest of us. That’s a concern long-term.

Then there’s the twins, two tall and very thin identical twin brothers who have also been neighborhood fixtures for going on thirty years. They have made a living—such as it is—by collecting cans and bottles for their redemption fees. They tore through this part of town, pushing shopping carts piled high with large bags stuffed with cans. Their speed and diligence was legendary; anybody trying to shoehorn in on the recyclables business in this part of town was soon left in their dust.

I never knew where they lived, but a few years back they showed up in this old popup camper in another alley a couple of blocks away. The house on this property was razed a few years ago, but there’s still an old garage on the alley and the property owner has maintained electric service there and allowed them to park and plug in. For how long is another question.

Time is catching up with them too; one of them has a serious leg condition that requires surgery. He can barely walk, using the cart as a walker when he feels well enough to go out. The other brother has slowed down considerably, although he still gets out daily. I’ve taken it on myself to help them and I know other neighbors have too. If they lose their place here I will figure something out; I have two possible spots for their camper.

And then there’s Bama. I still pick up hitchhikers, paying back my karmic debt to all those folks that picked me up back in the day. In the winter of ’21 – ’22, when I was building our cabin in Port Orford, I picked up this tall thin man with standing in the rain on the side of the highway a few miles north of town. He was living in a tent on public land on the banks of the Sixes River, and was heading into town. He needed to relocate for the winter, as it was getting too shady in the narrow river canyon. So the next day I drove out to his campsite and moved his stuff to a terrific site along Hwy 101 with a fabulous ocean view, just above the beach.

Bama is not “homeless”; the outdoors has been his home by choice for almost all of his adult life. When he was young he lived for years way up in the high Sierra panning for gold, making enough to support his very modest needs. He met a young woman hiker up there and they eventually got married and moved to San Diego, where her father got Bama (his chosen, not given name) a job doing framing and carpentry for his building business. But civilized life did not agree with him and after a few years they split amicably and he headed back to the mountains. When the price of gold dropped, he moved to the hills above Ashland, Oregon, but the climate was too hot or too cold, so he headed for Port Orford, where he had once visited.

Bama is a delightful person and has an incredible knack for finding things on the beach or in the woods, artistic driftwood or rocks and gems, some of which he trades for cafe meals and such. I’ve enjoyed his company and helped him out in various ways these past few years. He’s become a fixture in Port Orford these past few years, and many others in town have come to know him and help him too. He’s finally found a secure spot to set up camp on private property, on a large undeveloped hillside near town; far enough to be quiet as he likes it but close enough to walk into town where he enjoys the amenities and socializing.

Unlike those less able or willing, Bama always returns favors with found presents, in this case this lovely wild flower for Stephanie. We all do what we can, ideally.

There’s more, but this isn’t intended to put myself or anyone on some kind do-gooder pedestal. It’s about the circle of giving and receiving, and how that cycle can be self-perpetuating in ways we often can’t anticipate or even control; once one places oneself in the cycle, things happen. One meets the most unexpected people hitchhiking or picking up hitchhikers, even if it’s just metaphorical hitchhiking. But one has to put out a thumb or be willing to stop.

We haven’t hardly touched upon this Eldorado, which is mostly still in quite good condition except for a few issues, mostly back here. This was of course the first year for the new downsized Eldorado and its E-Body cousins, the Toronado and Riviera. A very successful downsizing at that; the previous Eldorado was looking like an obese older man whose buttons were popping off his shirt.

But for the most part, it still has quite a bit of its dignity intact. One can only speculate as to how long it’s been in the owner’s possession. This was one of America’s most expensive cars in its day, especially in the top-trim Biarritz version. It’s not a car that spoke to me at the time, when I was a young man in LA on the way up. Give me a BMW 530i, please. In coastal California back then, this was a car for old men or middle-aged men that were out of touch with the times. But it still conveyed prestige in much of the country at the time.

The interior shows more clearly the current state of affairs for this person. Yes, it’s not a pretty picture, but then life all-too often isn’t.

That looks to be a foam mattress in the back. And a bolt of what looks to be tan vinyl upholstery fabric. We can only guess, but maybe it’s better not to. I suppose it was a bit of a violation of their privacy and dignity to look in here. But then sometimes it’s good to be exposed to the grittier side of life.

Not sure what to make of the reversed front license plate. That’s a first for me. Is it like flying the flag upside down, a distress signal?

Is the trouble-prone first generation Cadillac fuel injection system really still at work in here? 1979 was the last year for the analog electronic system that first appeared in the Seville in 1975. It fed the Olds-sourced 5.7 L V8 as also first used in the Seville. Maybe it was converted to carburation or maybe it’s a survivor, like this car and its owner.  At least it’s not the infamous Olds 5.7 L V8 diesel.

The Biarritz package was icing on an already rich cake and included numerous touches that are mostly beyond my interest, but it did push the price of a well-optioned Eldorado above $17,000, which was pretty serious coin in 1979.

I sincerely hope this Eldorado owner had their medical issues taken care of by the good folks at the White Bird clinic, and that life takes a turn for the better. Not to be a pessimist, but realistically the odds aren’t exactly very good for that. At least we can hope that this Eldorado continues to serve them well and helps them maintain some of the dignity that it was designed to convey and what everyone deserves.

 

Related CC reading:

Vintage C/D Review: 1979 Cadillac Eldorado – A Brilliant False Dawn by A. Severson

Automotive History: 1975-1979 Cadillac Electronic Fuel Injection – GM’s (Gladly) Forgotten Fuelie – A GM Deadly Sin? by VinceC

Curbside Classic: 1983 Cadillac Eldorado – Mmm, Buttery! by T. Klockau

Auto-Biography: The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxie 500 And Other Rides by me