This 1959 BMW 507 Roadster sold for $416,159 at Bonhams’ Monaco sale, held May 16, 2005.
Out of the ashes of World War II, BMW rose and prospered by manufacturing Isetta microcars and its highly regarded motorcycles. The tooling and the rights to the company’s milestone 328 engine had gone to Bristol as a part of the war reparations, but undaunted, BMW went on to design a “big” (by European standards) V8 engine for its “big” sedans. These cars (the 501, 502 and 503) were of high quality and soundly engineered, but they lacked sex appeal and were grossly overpriced.
Max Hoffman, the New York-based importer of everything European from Alfa to Wartburg, suggested that a two-seat sports car based on the 503 be built in order to bring people to showrooms and help move the unsold sedans. Two cars were cobbled together in 1953, but these were so ungainly that when he first saw them, dapper Max spilled his martini on his pinstriped suit.
Not too far from Hoffman’s emporium, a young designer named Al Goertz had his studio. Hoffman could talk birds out of trees, and thus persuaded the BMW management to give total design control of the new 507 to Goertz. (Of course, it helped that Hoffman was the 900-pound gorilla when it came to selling foreign cars in the U.S.)
Al Goertz had come to the U.S. in 1937 as Graf Albrecht von Goertz, son of a wealthy banking family. When the war started, the flow of family money stopped, and the young Count had to feed himself just like all the other poor immigrants. Working in menial manual labor led him to an automobile repair shop. While there, Goertz decided that he wanted to be an automotive designer.
Pratt Design Institute, a top school at the time, became Goertz’s alma mater. Bright, talented and hard working, he graduated and earned more than his diploma-he became an American, not just a naturalized citizen, but an American in his approach to life and design, something he was proud of. He shortened his name to Al Goertz and went to work for Raymond Loewy at Studebaker in 1950. After a year or two with Loewy (who by reputation was not the easiest man to work with), Goertz opened his own industrial design studio.
Now we’re back to Hoffman, who wanted a car he could sell in the U.S., so Al Goertz again became Graf Albrecht von Goertz to make him more palatable to the people at BMW. While they did go along with Hoffman’s plan, Goertz was still resented by the Germans, not only because he was an outsider, but also because he had become an American.
Goertz’s aquiline two-seat roadster rode on the modified 503 sedan chassis, into which a punched-out 3.2-liter version of BMW’s V8 was fitted. The front suspension used forged wishbones, with large Alfin drums all around. At the rear was a solid axle and torsion bars. The car carried plenty of interesting details, like servo assist on the brakes, a four-speed, all-synchro ZF gearbox, light alloy cylinder heads and crankcase, and an oil-water heat exchanger. The option list was equally impressive: three rear axle ratios (3.42, 3.7 and 3.89), a limited-slip differential, full belly pans, Rudge knock-off wheels, and a factory hard top.
While the 507 prototypes were being constructed, Hoffman was flooding the press with stories of a 150-mph sports car that was to sell for only $5,000. The engine, still in the development stage, was claimed to make 200 hp, with 0-60 mph figures said to be in the seven-second range. The first prototype was shown at Frankfurt in 1955-with three bags of cement substituting for the not-ready V8 in its engine bay-but the first real car didn’t appear until the Paris show in September. It was not quite what Hoffman had been promising.
After the first two or three pre-production prototypes were built, the rift between the American boss and his Bavarian staff became unbearable, and Goertz left. Happy as pigs in the mud, the Germans made some hurried changes to Goertz’s design, further driving up the cost of an already expensive car. By the time it reached dealer showrooms, the 507 had a whopping $11,000 price tag.
Because of typical German obsessions with quality and strength, the car was not only grossly overpriced, but equally overweight, tipping the scales at almost 3,000 pounds. The 200 predicted horses were closer to 145, and because of the mixture of iron and aluminum alloys, the engines were prone to troublesome corrosion issues.
The BMW management had still not learned that the market votes with its checkbook; the disaster of the un-sellable 502 and 503 (which cost $1,000 more than a comparable Mercedes) was lost on them. The idea of the 507 was to create a touring sports model, aimed at the wealthy gentleman driver who wanted a fast and comfortable car. Had BMW management done any market research, however, it would have found that this field was overcrowded already, with plenty of $10,000 cars. Cadillac, Facel Vega (with Chrysler power), Dual Ghia (ditto), Ferrari, Maserati, Aston Martin and Mercedes-Benz had already made a reputation selling cars to the Hollywood and country club sets, and these companies were backed by a usually competent chain of dealers with a good parts supply. How could a lowly motorcycle manufacturer compete?
Well, it couldn’t. The car was dead on arrival, as even the “purists” (who rarely had the kind of money it would have taken to buy a 507 anyway) objected to the 507’s poor power-to-weight ratio, and the unnecessary complexity of the engine. Someone called it Germany’s answer to the Thunderbird-and trust me, this was not a compliment. Of course, the press loved the 507, but these were journalists who could barely afford their used MG-TDs.
The cost of expensive production tooling, the unsold cars and the unfavorable publicity almost bankrupted BMW. A few desirable evolutionary changes to the 507 were made, like adding disc brakes and in a few rare cases, a five-speed gearbox, but this was too little, too late. At the end of 1959, the factory threw in the towel. A decade later, used 507s were worthless, and quite a few became scrap iron.
Four decades later, however, quite a bit has changed. The brotherhood of car collecting has matured, and the 507 has found a place among us. As there are dozens of great touring events these days in which mature people like to drive beautiful, well-balanced, comfortable cars, the 507 finally has its market. (That BMW has come to thrive in recent decades certainly hasn’t hurt.)
The 507 Roadster pictured here was nicely optioned, with all the paperwork, ready to rock ‘n’ roll, and it sold at a market-correct $416k. There are not many cars acceptable to prestige events that can be had for less than half a million bucks today. The BMW 507 Roadster is one of them. When you think about it, this really is not that much money today. At least it’s easier to make $400,000 now than it was to earn $11,000 back in 1955.
(Historical and descriptive information courtesy of the auction company.)
