1957 DeSoto Fireflite Sportsman Hardtop – Like The One I Found In A Desolate Location 40 Years Ago

Car photos are from virtualparking.com and closely resemble the ’57 DeSoto I found that day.

 

What is it about the spooky, mysterious, and unknown that attracts us so?  I’ve always been an explorer.  But the places I like to explore are the kinds of places most people prefer to avoid.  I have walked alone through the worst slums of Newark, New Jersey photographing the ruins before they were bulldozed into oblivion.  I’ve been through old abandoned factories, doomed Victorian mansions, and numerous auto junkyards.  And I like driving along obscure country back roads just to see what’s there.  So naturally I’ve made some interesting discoveries over the years.  If the Internet and Curbside Classic had existed in 1985, I would have posted this.  So with the help of some photos I found online, I am telling you my little story 40 years later!

Sometime in the late 1970s I started getting enthused about cars of the ’50s.  I would buy back issues of National Geographic at garage sales for 10 cents each, just to get the car ads.  I would then take an X-acto knife, neatly cut out the ads, and mount them in an album.  That’s when I first saw this. The headline seemed totally absurd, like a parody ad from MAD magazine. But they were serious! And the car itself–strikingly out of this world. This just fueled my passion for American cars from the 1950s-early ’60s period.

My car album.

 

Me (on the right) and my brother in his go-cart, 1985.

 

By 1985, I had my driver’s license and the keys to Mom’s old 1962 Mercury Comet. This opened up new and unlimited opportunities for exploration!

1962 Mercury Comet when I was driving it.

 

Blue H = Main Psychiatric Hospital building, dating from 1876.  Red X = Where I found the 1957 DeSoto.

 

I was commuting from my house in Morris Plains to County College of Morris.  I usually just went straight up Route 10, but sometimes I went the “back way” on Old Dover Road, through the creepy 19th century psychiatric hospital campus.  Talk about spooky!

Some of the hospital buildings had bars on the windows. I asked my mom why, and she said “To keep the patients from escaping.” That bothered me on many levels.

 

On one side of the road was the hospital complex, and on the other side was a little house, deep in a ravine.  That’s where I saw what I believed was a ’57 DeSoto, far below.  One day I decided, I’m going to check it out.

I made my way down the long, winding dirt driveway.  It reminded me of the scene in It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World where Phil Silvers drives his ’47 Ford convertible down to that house in the desert (and he can’t get back out!)

The car parked next to the small quaint house looked much like this.

 

This is the approximate scene I was confronted with when I got down there.  Wow!  So this is what a ’57 DeSoto looks like in real life!  Amazing.

This car is so big!  And those fins are out of this world!  Even more dramatic than the magazine ad I saw.

The owner opens the door to let me see inside. First time seeing the interior of one of these.

 

A little old lady emerged from the house.  Me:  “Hi…heh, heh.  I saw your DeSoto from the road.  Um, is it like, for sale?”  “Yes it is,” she replied.  “Fifteen hundred dollars.”  “Really?  Why would you sell a car like this?”  “Because I’m getting a new Honda Civic!”

That answer floored me.  Imagine going from driving this glorious, boat-sized, Forward Look DeSoto to a Honda Civic!  What a change!

Back seat view.  So much room!  That expansive rear window!

Chrome roof bows I think are supposed to emulate the look of a convertible top.  I like ’em!

A fighter pilot would feel right at home behind this dashboard!

I never got to see the engine, but I suppose it looked like this.

That was the end of our little encounter.  I would have loved to have replaced the Comet with this DeSoto, but I didn’t have the resources (or the permission) to do it at the time.  If I did, my $1,500 investment in her Sportsman hardtop would probably be worth $20,000+ today (at least)!

Sadly, the lady, the house, the DeSoto, and the creepy-yet-picturesque psychiatric hospital from the 19th century are all gone now.

Just down the road was this strange little building which I did take a picture of. In later years the roof caved in–not sure if the ten (?) sided structure still exists or not.

 

The Ezra & Catherine Lamoureux Dayton house located in nearby Bernardsville was built in 1876, the same year as the Greystone Hospital main building. It too is gone.

 

I’ve seen a lot of New Jersey’s “interesting and scenic old stuff” disappear within my lifetime.  Whether it’s farms with old red barns, brick factories with arched windows, Victorian houses, or abandoned cars in the woods.  Some people complain about it;  most people don’t care.  I can just say that I’m glad I got to see the things I saw before they vanished forever.

Further CC reading:

Curbside Classic: 1957 DeSoto Firesweep–Curbside Service by Jason Shafer 

Road Trip Classics: 1957 DeSotos – Still Riding in Chrysler’s Shadow  by Ed Stembridge