There’s Really Only One Person Who Would Have Owned A Zimmer Covered In Candlelabras

In our modern culture of innumerable niches and hyper-focused interests, it’s hard to remember that there was once a time when the concept of celebrity was a much more comprehensive sort of thing. There were just some people that pretty much everybody knew at least some crucial information about, even if they weren’t necessarily fans of or even consumed any of that celebrity’s work. Liberace was one of those celebrities.

Liberace was a pianist, but so much more than that. He was a shorthand for a very specific kind of showy, overdone opulence, a wild exaggeration of luxury, a gleefully unhinged campy take on the business of existence, one absolutely slathered with rhinestones and sequins. He was an incredible showman, above all else, and it seemed like everyone understood this implicitly. If you described something to someone as being Liberace-like, you could almost see the glint of gemstones and gold in their eyes as images popped into their head.

Maybe it’s better to just show you. I’m not sure words can really adequately capture all that was going on there:

I mean, holy crap, right? There are white sequined tuxedoes and a whole herd of white fluffy Pomeranians and glittering fully-rhinestone’d pianos and, hell, the man was popping bubbles in a gilded bathtub. I think the bath towels were mink. Whatever the point was Liberace was trying to make, I think it’s safe to say he made it.

As a perpetually sloppy man who still wears t-shirts I had in high school, this is a way of life I have a lot of trouble wrapping my greasy brain around, but I respect the intense and lifelong commitment to the bit. And this was reflected in the cars he chose as well; in that clip above, I’m sure you noticed the glittering Rolls-Royce, for example.

Liberace was the highest-paid entertainer in the world between the 1950s and 1970s, which meant he could buy pretty much any cars he wanted, and he did just that. A bit later in his career, he would buy a very Liberace-coded car, a Zimmer Golden Spirit, one of the most overdone and exuberant Neoclassical cars of the era. That’s the car that our own Autopian co-founder Beau owns, and is deciding if he’d like to sell:

What’s incredible is that even in its native, already absurdly opulent state, which included such things as 18K gold-plated medallions, crystal vases, genuine teak running boards and more …

… it still wasn’t enough. So Liberace added his trademark signature to the dual spare tire holders:

…and, of course, added working candelabras all over the thing.

There are seven in total: the huge five-pronged one on the hood, single ones on each of the front turn signals, one each on the taillights, and a pair of two-candle ones on each B-pillar, mounted to the fake Landau bars.

There was also extra-deep and plush carpet added, including in the trunk, which has to be one of the most lavishly carpeted trunks of any car, ever. All of this added up to a car not just built specially for Liberace, but especially built for Liberace, as the dashboard plaque proudly notes:

It’s funny, for all of this unhinged opulence, under all of the filigree and vejazzlement was just a humble Fox-body Mustang:

If you look at the doors, you can see it. Oh, and the front turn signals are from a VW Beetle, minus the candelabras, of course.

Neoclassic cars in general are definitely not everyone’s chalice of Cristal, and I get that. They’re somewhat unserious things, delighting in how overdone they are, and, at their best, don’t take themselves too seriously. I described them in an earlier article this way:

“I think the term originated with Virgil Exner’s attempts to revive the Stutz and Duesenberg  marques in the 1960s, and then popularized with the Excalibur soon afterwards. Neoclassical cars are, essentially, modern cars (well, modern for whatever era they were built) but re-bodied to look like dramatic cars from the 1920s and 1930s. Generally, they tend to go for long and low and big, swooping fenders and side pipes and lots of chrome and jewelry and are wildly showy things. Generally, if you’re the sort of person who is willing to wear a gold chain that would be substantial enough to secure a schooner to the dock, then maybe a neoclassic car is for you.”

In the case of Liberace, though, they’re absolutely perfect. Of course Liberace had a Zimmer Golden Spirit, and of course it was made extra-opulent and festooned with electric candelabras and everything. There’s rarely a case as clear as this where you can take one look at a car and know exactly whose car it must be, but this is absolutely one such case.

I know Liberace isn’t the huge cultural presence he once was, but this car is a real artifact of that time. I know Beau had seen Liberace perform in Vegas when he was a little kid in the 1970s with his family, and the sheer spectacle of it all made an impact on him, just as it made an impact on Elvis Presley, Elton John, and Prince, just to name a few performers who took some cues from that dedicated showman.

This was also one of the first cars Beau acquired for his collection, so I know there’s some sentimental attachment to the car. But is that enough to keep it? What would he do with this thing, anyway? Help him decide!