Geroge Barris
In Hollywood during the early 1950s, one man’s vision impacted the cinematic car culture of America so greatly that his contributions remain relevant today.
This award-winning visionary is automotive icon George Barris, whose below-the-line genius gave us dozens of signature vehicles for television and film. From General Lee to The Batmobile, Barris treated his wheeled creations as characters, not just cars.
Primarily a self-taught mechanic and automotive body man from the old school, he founded Barris Kustoms at the perfect time to be appreciated by the movie-going, postwar youth, who had abandoned innocence for pictures about real life.
Tinseltown gave the kids what they were hungry for. Savvy producers like Samuel Arkoff and Roger Coreman hired experienced hot-rodders such as Barris to help shoot this new fare. With titles like Eat My Dust, Hot Car Girl, Speed Crazy, High School Confidential and ultimately Rebel Without a Cause, his early car work reflected the very pulse of these teenage angst films.
“Much of what we shot in those pictures,” Barris recalled, “was stuff that we had actually done – drag racing for pink slips, playing chicken, ditching the cops, doing 140 mph down PCH. You name it, we did it!”
By the early 60s, Barris’ expertise had begun to pay off. He became a well known car source in town and got some choice assignments. Classic TV shows such as The Beverly Hillbillies , The Munsters, The Green Hornet, The Addams Family, Mannix, and Batman all benefited from his unique vehicular vision.
Mixing futuristic concepts with a comic book twist, Barris’ use of beautiful lines, chopped roofs, racing wheels, and exotic colors all fused into a style that became “pure Barris.” On the film front, he created all types of special vehicles, ranging from the spy cars in the Matt Helm films to Jerry Lewis’ Cinderfella coach.
For Cinderfella, Barris morphed a 1953 Lincoln Capri hardtop into a gold-plated convertible dubbed the Golden Sahara. Starter solenoids and radio receiver guts controlled by an early Zenith television remote were used to make the doors magically open and close. “I think it was a first,” Barris offered proudly.
Over the next half century, the Barris shop produced vehicles for everything from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang to Starsky and Hutch. Other projects included Night Rider, Sleeper, Blade Runner, Dick Tracy, Ghostbusters, the Burt Reynolds’ crash-em-ups (aka Smokey and the Bandit), as well as American Graffiti which (he assured me) borrowed the cop-car-rear-axle-cable-gag from experiences in his misspent youth.
As to career highlights, Barris fondly recollected his work with director Alfred Hitchcock. “I rigged a car crash on North by Northwest,” he began, “Upon impact, a piece of chrome body molding sprang forward and caused an unexpected BE- W-A-N-N-G sound, clearly recorded following the bumper falling off.”
“Cut,” gushed Hitchcock, “That was marvelous, especially that sound effect!”
“I had no idea that was going to happen,” Barris chuckled.
“The effect was a total luckout.”
Barris’ complete credits are too numerous to list here,. However, an interesting aspect of Barris Kustoms throughout the years has been the cars built for Hollywood’s elite. From gold-plated Caddy’s for Elvis to Dean Martin’s Eldorado station wagon, Barris (totally ahead of his time) offered modifications and design features that one might find today on Pimp My Ride or at Galpin Auto Sports.
In fact, auto manufacturing executive Lee Iacocca had Barris build concept cars for the Ford Custom Car Caravan, providing a link to the Detroit automotive industry through his design innovations, like chopped roof lines, fade-away fenders and custom-kit body parts.
Absorbing Barris’ office while he spoke of his contributions to Gone in Sixty Seconds and the Too Fast and Too Furious flicks, I began to feel that I was in an automotive temple, and George was the all-knowing monk. With every inch of wall, shelf and floor displaying scores of car models, action figures, batmobiles, awards, posters and plaques. The entire room serves as a three dimensional testament to the cinematic contributions of this man.
Looking into the future, one comes to the sad realization that the golden age of hand-made car construction in Hollywood might end with George Barris. And like all craft replaced by computerized design, the original product will be sorely missed.
At interview’s end I asked for advice to the next generation of automotive artists seeking success in Hollywood. “That’s easy,” Barris responded, “Just remember, there’s no such word as can’t.”
