I Captured The Final Moments Of One Of The World’s Greatest Car Museums

I’ve been to the Mercedes-Benz Museum, the Petersen Automotive Museum, the Porsche Museum, the Auburn Cord Duesenberg Museum, the Oldsmobile Museum, and I’ve see some of the most amazing private collections in Europe and the U.S., so trust me when I say: The Mullin Automotive Museum — which closed earlier this year — was truly something special. It was itself a piece of art, and one that will never return to this earth, which is why I paid the place a visit the day before it closed. Here’s what I saw.

Look under the hood of a 1920s Bugatti, and you’ll see gorgeous fasteners holding together gorgeous metal parts that make up a gorgeous engine sitting under the gorgeous hood of a gorgeous car. When it comes to many high-performance French cars of the era, beauty exists at every level — from the minute bits that hold everything together, to the beautifully formed sheetmetal, to the paint, to the glass, to the final design. No matter how far in you zoom, you see art, and when you zoom out, so long as you can see the car, you see art, as well.

But as anyone who has attended The Quail or the Concours d’Elegance at Pebble Beach can attest, there’s just something about placing such cars in a place so beautiful that one can zoom out one more time and continue to see beauty. There’s just something about the presentation of a fine thing — whether it’s a car or a jewel or a dish — that elevates it to a new level.

These are the thoughts that rushed to my mind upon visiting the Mullin Automotive Museum the day before its closing. I’m fairly sure I was the museum’s final journalist guest, and possibly its final non-auction guest, period.

I’m not going to compare The Mullin to any other museum, because it’s not a competition. But I will say that The Mullin stood out from the crowd because it truly transported me to a different time and place. This was France, and the year was 1930.

Before we get into the actual museum, a bit of background: The museum was the brainchild of Peter W. Mullin, who made his fortune in the finance industry (particularly “executive benefits and compensation”), and who was a key player in the establishment of the legendary Petersen Automotive Museum. Pebblebeachconcours.net describes how Mullin got into cars a bit later in life, writing:

Peter came to cars rather late in life. He was already a successful businessman in both the financial services and insurance industries when a neighbor’s Delahaye caught his eye. Intrigue turned to passion, and over time he grew to be a collector who supported and inspired a multitude of others….In keeping with that first Delahaye, Peter had a great fondness for French cars, particularly those with an Art Deco flare. He did his research and he sought out the best.

Mullin himself placed this quote prominently in his museum, describing why he decided to open a museum devoted to French cars of the 1920s an 30s:

For me French automobiles of the 1920s and 1930s represent the pinnacle of 20th Century art and design – the artistic realization in steel, leather and glass of a modern idea created at a moment when hand craftsmanship embraced the machine, and a spirit of optimism fueled an explosion in artistic and technical development. As an avid collector, the preservation of these rolling sculptures for the enjoyment of future generations is both a responsibility and a pleasure. I relish the stewardship and preservation of their exciting histories.

After having my visit pushed back, I was blessed to be able to stop by The Mullin on the very last day before the teardown began. Mind you, the museum was already closed; this was just a special visit for me and Levi, Beau’s son-in-law.

The museum was located in an industrial park in Oxnard, just northwest of Los Angeles. Just across the street was the Saint Paul Baptist Church of Oxnard’s family life center, next door was a taxidermist, in the other direction was a supercharger company, and just behind was an AC compressor manufacturer.

The only hint that there was a magnificent car museum here was a car on the side of a large warehouse with the words “French Curves” written on the fender:

Once we got into the parking lot, the tree blocking the view revealed the sign: Mullin Automotive Museum — a place established in 2010:

The emptiness and this sign made it clear that the end was near:

Walking into the building, the first thing you spot is this incredible Citroen “DS19 Rocket” sculpture, which had been used to display Citroen’s aerodynamic body design at the 1957 Exhibition in Milan, Italy:

For the rest of this article, I’m just going to show you a bunch of photos, and let them speak for themselves. Here’s a Delehaye 325:

The center of the Museum was filled with gorgeous Bugattis and more Delehayes and Delages and Voisins; there was even a Bugatti Type 64 Coachwork buck:

By the way: You see the blue car here? That’s a Voison Type C30 Cabriolet, and if you’d like to learn more about it, you can read the Mullin Automotive Museum’s pamphlet on the car here.

Here’s a little quote from that pamphlet:

The Voisin Type C30 was developed and launched by Gnome et Rho?ne administrators who assumed control of the Voisin marque in 1937 and not under Gabriel Voisin’s sole influence; it had neither engine nor coachwork bearing the “Voisin” signature. Yet, in its own way the Voisin Type C30 was just as revolutionary as the marque’s other models. The Type C30 made its debut at the 1937 Paris Auto Salon when Voisin was no longer the head of his company and the majority of Voisin cars were produced from used and spare parts. The assembled car was intended to maintain many traditional Voisin features, such as a long wheelbase and overall simplicity, but it departed from the material refinement generally demanded by Gabriel Voisin’s exacting vision. As for engines, lack of funding forced Voisin to cease manufacturing his typical sleeve-valve HISTORIC PROFILE 3 power plants. Instead, he relied on an American supercharged Graham-Paige model—a popular engine known for its quiet operation and therefore more aligned with Voisin’s tastes.

At the back of the museum was the “Shlumpf Reserve Collection,” which, per the museum, “once belonged to the late Schlumpf family from the Alsace region of France.”:

Here’s a Tatra, which isn’t French but is still extremely cool 1930s European tech:

Here are some toys:

For this museum to have Ettore Bugatti’s dad’s furniture is just insane to me:

Here’s a 1928 Bugatti Type 35 Grand Prix sculpture:

There’s an amazing room upstairs filled with automotive memorabilia. The handles on the doors to that room make up the Bugatti badge:

Here’s a 1928 Citroen designed by famous artist Sonia Delaunay:

Here’s a special edition 1984 Citroen 2CV France 3, which, per auction company Gooding & Co was “designed in Support of France’s 1983 America’s Cup Challenger”:

Check out all this awesome Citroen literature:

These tiny toy models are gorgeous:

This upstairs section includes a “Cafe Moulin,” which has some great French history in its windows:

The whole upstairs section is meant to look like a race track; this is where French race cars and motorcycles sat:

Even the bathrooms were French:

And the paintings were incredible:

How about this Lindau Solex Motorbike?

And this cool Bugatti barn-find scene:

Here’s some sculpture and glasswork from 1930s-era France, as well as more paintings:

Perhaps the most memorable part of the museum was the 1925 Bugatti Type 22 Brescia Roadster that had been pulled from the bottom of a Swiss lake:

A sign at The Mullin described the incredible story behind this car:

According to renowned Bugatti historian Hans Matti, this Brescia was owned in 1934 by Swiss Adalbert Bode – a playboy whose interests were known to include racing, bartending, and professional poker playing. By one account, Bode is said to have met legendary racing driver Rene Dreyfus in Paris during the Spring on 1934 and to have won the Brescia from Dreyfus in an impromptu game of poker after two bottles of champagne.

At some point thereafter, without money, Bode left Paris for home. However, upon arrival at the Swiss border the new owner was required to pay customs onthe car. Unable to afford the tax, he reluctantly abandoned the car in Ascona on Lake Maggiore at the border of Switzerland and Italy in a private garage. After a few years, Swiss officials were required by law to destroy it, and elected to do so by pushing it into the lake, however attaching 35′ chains in the event that there was a future need to retrieve the car. With the passage of time the chains became fatigued and broke, the Brescia falling to a final resting depth of 173 feet.

Years passed. However locals continued to remember the Bugatti in the Lake even after the World War. Finally, after three more decades and substantial advancements in diving technology, the Bugatti in the lake was discovered by a local diving club in August 1967. In the years that followed, it became a much-romanticized part of town lore and a local dive attraction for deep divers. And it may have stayed that way were it not for the occurrence of a tragedy in which a young local man, Damiano Tamagni, lost his life as a result of a random and brutal beating he suffered while attending the Carnival of Locarno. With heartfelt sympathy for Damiano’s grieving family, a local diving company contacted the dive club and suggested they work together to raise and sell the Bugatti to benefit the Fondazione Damiano Tamagni, a charitable foundation established to combat youth violence. The project ultimately involved more than thirty volunteers and months of planning. On July 12, 2009, in front of an assembled crowd of more than 2,000 people, this Bugatti was lifted from Lake Maggiore where it lay submerged for nearly 75 years.Aside from this story, what is most impressive about this unrestored Bugatti is its incredible patina, which is filled with a rich depth of colors and aged to perfection. Even the most talented artist would have a difficult time recreating the unusual beauty in this recovered underwater automotive myth-come-true. If you’re ever near the Mullin, I highly recommend you visit this offbeat Bugatti.

As I walked out of a Museum that had transported me to a different time and place, I felt sad, but also grateful. Peter Mullin had given me — and so many others — an experience we’ll never forget. He’d shared his passion in a breathtaking, inspirational way. He’d purchased some of the world’s greatest art, and placed it into a package that itself was a true masterpiece.