One Man and His Plan - Part Three: John D. Delorean and his time-traveling wonder
Part three of TAM’s series of articles about incredible visionaries and their cars that were meant to revolutionize the automotive industry but failed.
John DeLorean: The Rise, Fall, and Silver Screen Resurrection of a Dreamer
Few figures in automotive history have captured the imagination quite like John Z. DeLorean — the maverick engineer, executive, and visionary who dared to challenge Detroit’s status quo. His story is a blend of brilliance, ambition, controversy, and redemption — a real-life drama that could only end with his car becoming a Hollywood legend.
The Golden Boy of General Motors
In the 1950s and ’60s, John DeLorean was one of the brightest stars in the American auto industry. A gifted engineer with a flair for marketing, he rose quickly through the ranks at General Motors. By age 40, he was the youngest division head in GM history, credited with creating one of the most iconic muscle cars ever built: the Pontiac GTO.
But DeLorean was never a typical corporate executive. With his tailored suits, long sideburns, and celebrity friends, he looked more like a movie star than an engineer. He dreamed of doing things differently — of building a car company that valued innovation, safety, and design over conformity and cost-cutting.
The Dream of the DMC-12
In 1973, DeLorean left GM to chase his vision: to create the world’s most advanced sports car under his own name. The DeLorean Motor Company (DMC) was born. His car, the DMC-12, featured a stainless-steel body, gull-wing doors, and a futuristic wedge-shaped design that turned heads everywhere it went.
Production began in 1981 in Northern Ireland — a bold move fueled by government subsidies and DeLorean’s relentless optimism. But the dream soon collided with harsh realities. Manufacturing delays, cost overruns, and a global recession plagued the project. The car’s performance didn’t match its looks, and the company teetered on the edge of financial ruin within a year.
Scandal and Struggle
In 1982, just as DMC was collapsing, DeLorean was arrested in a high-profile drug trafficking sting, accused of attempting to finance his struggling company through cocaine deals. The shocking images of the once-celebrated executive in handcuffs seemed to mark a tragic end.
However, in 1984, DeLorean was acquitted of all charges, after successfully arguing that he had been entrapped by government agents. Though legally vindicated, his reputation and company were beyond repair. The DeLorean Motor Company folded, leaving behind roughly 9,000 cars — and a legacy of “what could have been.”
Back to the Future — Literally
Just a few years later, DeLorean’s dream car found new life in the unlikeliest of places: Hollywood. When “Back to the Future” premiered in 1985, the stainless-steel DMC-12 became the world’s most famous time machine. The film immortalized the car — and, by extension, its creator — as symbols of innovation and imagination.
Today, surviving DeLoreans are prized collector’s items, with dedicated clubs and restoration shops keeping them on the road. The car’s blend of 1980s futurism and movie magic continues to captivate fans around the world.
A Legacy Forged in Steel
John DeLorean’s story is one of ambition and audacity — proof that chasing a dream can sometimes come at great cost, but can also leave an indelible mark. His stainless-steel sports car may have failed as a business venture, but it succeeded in becoming an icon. In the end, DeLorean achieved what few ever do: he built something unforgettable.
🚗 Museum Connection
At the Tucson Auto Museum, we celebrate visionaries like John DeLorean — people who refused to accept “the way things are” and instead reshaped automotive history through sheer determination. While we don’t all get to travel through time in a stainless-steel car, we can travel back in time by exploring the design, engineering, and spirit of innovators like DeLorean inside our galleries. Our 1981 example of the Delorean captures the spirit and excess of the ‘80s.
🕒 Did You Know?
Only about 9,000 DeLoreans were built — and more than 6,000 still exist today, thanks to dedicated owners and parts suppliers.
Every DeLorean left the factory unpainted, showing off its brushed stainless-steel panels.
The car’s gull-wing doors were designed by the same engineer who helped develop the Mercedes 300SL’s doors in the 1950s.
A new company in Texas is now reviving the DeLorean name with modern electric concepts inspired by the original DMC-12.
One Man and His Plan - Part Two: Earl “Madman” Muntz and his Muntz Jet
Part 2 of TAM’s series exploring the audacious failures in the history of the automotive industry is a fun read. Enter the “mad” world of Earl Muntz,..
Earl “Madman” Muntz: The Car Salesman Who Tried to Out-Cadillac Cadillac
If Elon Musk and P.T. Barnum had a child in 1914, and that child grew up with a fondness for convertibles, televisions, and outlandish advertising stunts, you’d get Earl “Madman” Muntz. A larger-than-life pitchman, tinkerer, and self-taught engineer, Muntz is one of those glorious characters in American history whose name should be better known. Not because everything he touched turned to gold—quite the opposite, in fact. He’s remembered because he thought big, crashed hard, and did it all with a grin.
The Origin of the “Madman”
Earl Muntz started out selling used cars in the 1930s and ’40s, where he quickly realized that bland pitches don’t move metal. He slapped on a nickname—“Madman”—and ran loud, outrageous radio and newspaper ads that made him sound like he’d lost his marbles. His slogan was simple: prices so low, he must be insane! Crowds loved it. In an era when car dealers were stiff and serious, Muntz leaned all the way into carnival-barker energy.
He wore outlandish suits. He shouted about bargains. He plastered “Madman Muntz” everywhere. The gimmick worked so well that by the mid-1940s, he was one of America’s best-known car dealers. And then he did something no one expected: he moved from hustling cars on the lot to building one of his own.
Enter the Muntz Jet
The Muntz Jet was born in 1950, a postwar fever dream made of chrome, horsepower, and audacity. Muntz bought the rights to a short-lived sports car called the Kurtis Kraft, stretched it into a four-seater, and gave it the kind of styling that screamed, “Hollywood leading man.” The Jet had sleek lines, a long hood, and was stuffed with luxury touches like leather interiors and even seatbelts—long before Detroit thought they were necessary. There was even a liquor cabinet in the backseat, because it was the 50’s and why not?
The performance? Depending on the V8 under the hood (Cadillac at first, Lincoln later), the Muntz Jet could hit 150 mph. That made it one of the fastest production cars in the world at the time. It was, in essence, America’s first personal luxury sports car, a genre that wouldn’t really take off until Ford birthed the Thunderbird and GM rolled out the Corvette.
But while those corporate giants had entire factories, Muntz had… a rented building, a small crew, and his own checkbook. And that’s where things went sideways.
Why the Jet Never Took Off
Each Muntz Jet cost about $6,500 to build. Muntz sold them for around $5,500. You don’t need an MBA to see the problem. For every Jet sold, Muntz lost money—up to $1,000 a pop. That’s a business model even Tesla might blush at.
Still, the Jet attracted celebrities like Mickey Rooney and Mario Lanza, and it became a status symbol for the Hollywood set. But by 1954, only about 400 Jets had been built, and Muntz pulled the plug before he went completely bankrupt. Today, surviving Jets are prized collectibles, valued as much for their rarity as for the sheer audacity of the man who built them.
Not Just Cars: The Other Madman Inventions
Muntz didn’t stop with cars. His knack for being just ahead of the curve (and sometimes tripping over it) showed up in other industries:
Television: Muntz launched a line of affordable TV sets in the late 1940s, bringing the boob tube to middle-class living rooms before RCA or Zenith could dominate. He was credited with “Muntzing,” a process of simplifying electronics by stripping out non-essential parts to cut costs.
8-Track Precursor: He marketed the “Muntz Stereo-Pak,” a 4-track car stereo system that directly inspired the 8-track cartridge format of the 1960s. For a while, if you wanted to blast Sinatra in your convertible, you probably had Muntz to thank.
Why We Love the Madman
Was Earl “Madman” Muntz a genius? A huckster? A visionary? The answer is yes. He embodied a uniquely American mix of optimism, bravado, and disregard for balance sheets. While his Jet was a commercial flop, it paved the way for the idea that an American sports-luxury car could compete with Europe’s best.
Today, when you see a Muntz Jet, you’re not just looking at a car. You’re looking at the physical embodiment of a man who refused to think small. A man who believed that if you shouted loud enough, believed hard enough, and chrome-plated enough, you could bend the market to your will.
It didn’t quite work. But it sure was fun to watch.
One Man and His Plan - Part One: Gary Davis and the Davis Divan
“One Man and His Plan” - Part One, Gary Davis and the Davis Divan. Jump into the first in a series of articles about past automotive visionaries and their unique contributions to technology, culture, folklore and more.
The Three-Wheeled Dream That Almost Was
The 1948 Davis-Divan. The first “production” Davis, now in the Tucson Auto Museum collection
When you think of revolutionary car companies founded by a single visionary, names like Tucker naturally spring to mind. But history is peppered with lesser-known pioneers whose bold dreams nearly reshaped the automotive world — men who dared to defy convention, engineer the impossible, and race against the clock in post-World War II America’s feverish landscape of innovation.
Enter Gary Davis and his brainchild, the Davis Divan.
Born in 1915, Gary Davis was an engineer and entrepreneur with a flair for the unconventional. After serving in World War II, he returned to civilian life determined to create a vehicle unlike any other: affordable, efficient, and futuristic. His answer was the Davis Divan, a daring three-wheeled car with an eye-catching streamlined aluminum body and a unique seating arrangement for four passengers side-by-side. Most of the Divans were powered by 2,600 cc (160 cu in), inline 4-cylinder Continental engines capable of producing 63 hp (47 kW). Others, including both the D-1 "Baby" and D-2 "Delta" prototypes, as well as the TAM example pictured (which is the third one ever made), were instead fitted with 47 hp (35 kW), four-cylinder Hercules industrial engines.
Davis touted the Divan’s innovative features — including its monocoque aluminum chassis, a fiberglass roof, and a top speed of around 100 mph — as proof that his design was ahead of its time. The car’s striking aerodynamic shape was not just for show; it helped reduce drag and improve fuel efficiency, appealing to the postwar American consumer’s desire for modernity and thrift.
