This car, Lot 148, sold for $224,000, including buyer’s premium, at Gooding & Company’s Amelia Island, FL, auction on March 1, 2024.
Heard of the Wright Brothers? Most probably yes. Heard of Gabriel Voisin? Most probably no. Voisin was messing around with flying objects at the same time as the Wrights, but the Americans beat him to it. But the Wrights’ plane could not take off on its own. In 1908, one of Voisin’s airplanes was the first to not only do that, but also fly for a kilometer and return to base.
At that time, all airplanes were made from wood and fabric. Voisin’s vision to make them out of metal was largely derided. How could something that heavy fly? But fly they did, with Voisin’s revolutionary designs becoming a linchpin of the Great War, earning him not only recognition but a tidy sum of money.
From air to road
After the war, Voisin turned his sights to car manufacturing, using the principles learned in the aero industry. Although the company did supply some rolling chassis, most were bodied at his factory, and their Art Deco style is instantly recognizable. Lightweight, simple but elegant, rarely flamboyant — they were powered by a sleeve-valve engine. Sleeve valves, despite their complexity, were generally reliable, delivering their torque down low, but above all, ran far more quietly and smoothly than a traditional engine. Voisin set about convincing the public to purchase his unusual cars by setting long-distance speed records and using his strong and affable character.
By the mid-1930s, technology was changing rapidly, and Voisin was struggling. In the 1920s, its cars had better brakes and suspension, and ran far more smoothly than most other vehicles. Yet advances in the classic combustion engine now gave it the edge over the sleeve valve, as it required much less maintenance. Voisin’s avant-garde automobiles were no longer appealing to his original clientele in the face of ardent competition from the likes of Delahaye and Delage. The world had caught up with him, but he kept cooking the books in an attempt to attract investors, claiming to produce far more vehicles than actually left the factory.
The C28 was Voisin’s swan song before selling his ailing company to creditors. It was a fairly big car by European standards, and some attempt was made at luxury. But the aeronautic heritage was still there. The lightweight aluminum bodies were almost unheard of in the French automobile industry, while front bucket seats and myriad other details confirmed its roots. In typical aviation style the dashboard resembled that of a fighter plane, crammed with instruments that require a special university degree to fully comprehend.
Five body styles were available on this chassis, of which the Aerodyne and Aerosport are by far the most desirable. Just how many were built is impossible to say, but in any case, survival rate is very low, with certainly no more than two or three of each. Not only were these cars a hard sell in comparison to the competition, but the sleeve-valve engine needed constant servicing.
Questionable history
This “Clairière” (which means forest clearing) came from the well-respected Mullin Collection yet it sold for about half what might have been expected given the $350k–$450k estimate. There were numerous reasons for this, starting with its provenance. When he purchased the car Peter Mullin may have been seduced by a claimed history involving the Voisin family, but unfortunately, much of it seems to be fantasy. Gooding & Company issued a Saleroom Addendum after the catalog was printed, stating in part, “Some of the early history attributed to this vehicle in the published description is a point of disagreement within the Voisin community.”
The rare C28 3.3-liter engine turned out to be a 3.0-liter from a C25, which, although slightly smaller, is visibly similar. The chassis number and tag had come from another earlier model, which might have led to some of the confusion over its history. The car had also received a sloppy makeover with incorrect interior materials. More worryingly, serious signs of corrosion are visible under a thick coat of paint. And of course, it needs mechanical attention.
A challenging, if worthy, project
Mullin also owned a C28 Aerodyne, which is a funky Art Deco dream. It was one of his favorite cars and it has been reportedly gifted to the Petersen Automotive Museum. When he purchased the Clairière in 2010, he must have believed it to be a worthy stablemate. But then he would have also understood the enormity of restoring the car.
It starts with the impossibility of acquiring a correct engine. Sleeve-valve engines always use a lot of oil, and they smoke — even when new. This is, of course, unacceptable in today’s environment. If not regularly used, they simply seize up and require a full rebuild. Not only is this complicated, but few people possess the knowledge to do so. The thin-gauge aluminum of the body is notoriously difficult to repair. Simply restoring the myriad instruments will require a fat wallet.
Getting this car back to show-condition will undoubtedly be a Herculean task and cost a huge amount of money and patience. Even then, it will never have a correct engine and its original chassis number will be hard to prove. We can see why even a collector of Mullin’s stature had not undertaken the project. Well sold. ♦
(Introductory description courtesy of Gooding & Company.)
