Authenticity vs. Originality: A Tale of Four (or Five) Bugattis

The holy grail for classic Bugatti collectors is the Type 57 S and SC Atlantic, of which fewer examples were built than even La Royale (Type 41), which numbers only half a dozen. Owing to the labor-intensive alloy body on the Type 57S and SC chassis, only 4 Atlantic variants were completed from 1936 to 1938. Some went back to the factory for modifications, and then the death of Jean Bugatti, followed by the onset of war, interrupted the whole enterprise.  Ironically, the car's lack of commercial success during its production lifetime has made it perhaps the world's most sought-after car today, so that over a dozen replicas have joined three surviving cars. And some claim that one of the three survivors isn't authentic enough.  Before we get into authenticity, a bit of history...

 

The prototype for the Atlantic was the Type 57 Aerolithe from 1935, shown above. The 4 “production” Atlantics followed the same theme, but on the lower 57S chassis, and used the vee-shaped (in plan) radiator of the 57S / SC in place of the flat horseshoe on the “standard” cars. The Atlantic’s most striking feature, the use of riveted fins or flanges along the car’s centerline and fender peaks, derived from the Aerolithe’s use of magnesium alloy for a body material.  Magnesium can burst into flame when welded, so the rivets provided both a mechanical solution and a handy, ready-made visual theme with a vaguely Jules Verne science fiction flavor. The rivets and crouched, lurking curves also lend the design a certain indefinably sinister aspect; one might not be surprised to find a fictional vampire (albeit an upwardly mobile one) driving an Atlantic. Owing to fabrication difficulties with the magnesium on the Aerolithe (and one suspects, the resulting expense), Bugatti switched to more workable aluminum alloy for the Atlantic, but retained the rivets.   

  

The first Atlantic, the Rothschild car, shown above in 1936 (monochrome photo) and again about 20 years later (color photo), went back to the factory in 1939 for modifications including a supercharger to suit its second owner.  Note the streamlined headlight fairings which show up in the 1956 photo.  By this time an American owner also had enlarged the rear windows and changed the color to red (for awhile) from the original light blue. This car later became part of Dr. Peter Williamson's Bugatti collection...

...and late during his time with the car he commissioned a painstaking restoration, removing the streamlined headlight fairings and replacing them with the type shown in the car's 1936 portrait (2nd photo from the top). The car, refinished in silver blue, then won an award at Pebble Beach in 2003...

The original Aerolithe was lost, its fate unknown (a replica has recently been built), and the second production car shown above was also lost, and may have been dismantled at the factory before WWII to provide parts for other projects, though others suggest it may have been seized and scrapped during the Nazi Occupation. The third Atlantic was the subject of the most dramatic changes before the war, and the most starkly tragic fate after it.  In the photo below, the car is shown in its original state, very much like the second car pictured above.  

Before the war it was modified by famed coach builder Joseph Figoni, who apparently owned the car for awhile, to elongate the rear fenders, add streamlined headlight nacelles, and attach the curved trim that edges the rear fenders...

The Figoni modifications are interesting not only because they echo the proportions and contours of Figoni's work on other chassis (Delahaye, Talbot Lago), but because they run parallel to Jean Bugatti's designs for the next planned Bugatti, the Type 64.  These plans were cut short by Jean Bugatti's death in August 1939, and then the onset of World War II a month later. The 3rd Atlantic is shown as modified above and directly below; one of the  three Type 64s is shown directly below it.

                                      

The Figoni-modified car was sold again after the war and was involved in a fatal race with a train in 1955, killing driver and passenger, a clothier and his mistress, and then lost for awhile in a corner of a salvage yard. The wreck was sold by the clothier's widow to a Bugatti enthusiast in 1965 and the car was reconstituted from pieces from the wreck and another Type 57. 

One question to answer before restoring a car like an Atlantic, or any car that served as a prototype, factory demonstrator or racer, is whether the “original” state should really be the goal. It's never been unusual for race or show cars to go back to the factory multiple times for remodels and retrofits, as these cars can be viewed as mobile laboratories or works in progress.  Some would say this was because the original clients for these cars once did some of the work done today by development engineers at companies like BMW and Honda…Anyway, two of the four Atlantics went back to the factory in the late 1930s for alterations that included adding vents in the doors (to remedy the stuffy interior) and more streamlined headlamp nacelles. Actually, three went back for alterations if you count being completely dismantled as an alteration.  Back to those headlights: when you look at the photos of the streamlined headlight housings on the cars as modified by Bugatti and Figoni, with their riveted center flange neatly echoing the center flange on the roof and fenders, it’s easy to see why Bugatti preferred this 1939 update to the car’s original lines.  Look at the photos of the Williamson / Rothchild car as modified by Bugatti (the bright red car) and also the restored “train wreck” car above, and it becomes hard to imagine any other scheme for the lights.  Despite this fact, 2 of 3 restorations and also most Atlantic replicas feature some variation of the free-standing headlights shown on the 4th Atlantic, the one now belonging to Ralph Lauren, shown below.  This approach to restoration opens up the question of what "original" means.  In order for the restorers of the Williamson car to return it to its original 1936 state, they had to remove the headlight housings fabricated by Bugatti in 1939 and substitute their own replica of the original. This approach makes sense if you accept a replica of something seen in a photograph or drawing (even something expertly crafted by modern artisans) as more authentic than a piece fabricated by the original authors of the machine, but produced by them an a sort of addendum to their own original work.  Should some ideal state of originality at any cost be the goal for restorers and collectors, or should they be aiming instead for a kind of authenticity which might reflect the history of the machine in its interactions with the people for which it was designed?

Ironically, it's the "train wreck" car, now restored a second time using more parts from the original, but still retaining the revisions made in 1939, which makes the best argument for a new approach to authenticity. Even though this car is viewed by some experts as a recreation rather than a true Atlantic, it serves as a snapshot of the direction that Bugatti design would have gone had it not been interrupted by the war.  It is also the sleekest and most modern of the Atlantics, and modernity, after all, was the point of Jean Bugatti's design...

Photo credits:

Top: carbuzz.com

2nd: Bugatti Owners Club
3rd:  Felix Zalenka for Trend Publications
4th:  the author (from Palo Alto Concours, 1990s)
5th:  the wheelsofsteel.com
6th:  bugattibuilder.com
7th:  carbuzz.com
8th:  bugattibuilder.com
9th:  caradisiac.com
10th:  caradisiac.com
11th: imagine lifestyles.com
12th: Carpedia
13th: wikimedia
bottom: bugattirevue.com