Emil Sparger restores his father's Cadillac

Emil Sparger stands next to his 1957 Cadillac outside his Spencer home. Photo by Mark Wineka, Salisbury Post

Emil Sparger's reflection appears next to the Cadillac nameplate of the 1957 model he restored. Photo by Mark Wineka, Salisbury Post

The 1957 Cadillac's gas tank is hidden behind the left taillights. Photo by Mark Wineka, Salisbury Post

The 1957 Cadillac Fleetwood features a monster steering wheel and slick dashboard. Photo by Mark Wineka, Salisbury Post.

Emil Sparger of Spencer sits in the driver's set of his restored Cadillac, which his father bought new in 1957. Photo by Mark Wineka, Salisbury Post

Emil Sparger stands with the 1957 Cadillac outside his Spencer home. Photo by Mark Wineka, Salisbury Post

By Mark Wineka

mwineka@salisburypost.com

SPENCER — The gleaming black 1957 Cadillac in Emil Sparger's driveway is the kind of car Elvis Presley would have been comfortable in.

It's the kind chauffeurs would have driven for business moguls, movie stars or big-boss politicians.

But this particular Cadillac Fleetwood belonged to Sparger's father, William, a Southern Railway engineer who knew a luxury car when he saw one.

William Sparger bought the 300-horsepower Cadillac new, for the then steep price of $5,600.

"My daddy loved that car," Sparger says.

He remembers as a young man taking a couple trips with his father to Washington, D.C., in the Cadillac. It drove like a dream.

After his father became sick — William spent his last 13 years in the VA hospital — the car passed to Emil's older brother, then to Emil's niece, who finally put it into storage in Salisbury.

It sat there, without being driven or even cranked, for almost 20 years.

About a year-and-a-half ago, Emil's niece decided to move to Florida, and he asked whether he could purchase the Cadillac. She agreed, and Sparger had the car loaded on a trailer and hauled to his home in Spencer.

Suffice it to say, the car was in rough shape, having not been moved since 1991.

Its tires had pretty much rotted off. The chrome — everywhere on this car — was corroded. The dashboard was cracked. The inside upholstery was shot. The outside sheen was long gone and, of course, it didn't run.

Though it had been neglected for so long, the Cadillac had not been forgotten by a sentimental Emil.

He looked at the car and saw the brand new Cadillac his father was so proud of 53 years earlier. With a lot of help from friends, the 83-year-old Sparger started a meticulous restoration of the car.

Sparger marvels that if you know where to look, you can find anything you need for a 1957 Cadillac. And he needed a lot: a new transmission, carburetor, master cylinder, gas tank and new rubber around all the windows and doors.

His across-the-street neighbor, Jimmy Gobbel, has two vintage cars of his own.

"He's been a big help," Sparger says.

Robert Poole did beautiful work on the upholstery, and young Travis Rabon brought the car back to life with his paint job, which cost more than the original price of the Cadillac.

"He's one heckuva painter," Sparger says.

A man in Hickory, who owns 1937 and 1938 Cadillac models, supplied Sparger with information he needed along the way, such as where to find parts.

The 2-inch whitewall tires came, for example, from Coker Tire in Chattanooga, Tenn. Sparger had to rely on a company in White Post, Va., to rebuild the master cylinder.

The transmission was rebuilt in Kannapolis.

Sparger did not have to replace any of the Cadillac's chrome. Gobbel showed him how to use a certain kind of steel wool and chrome cleaner to bring it back to life.

This is a four-door, hardtop sedan whose chrome and metal combine for the weight of a small tank — 4,755 pounds. The trunk alone could sleep four.

"You can camp out in the trunk," Sparger says.

The steering wheel has the diameter of a deep-dish Chicago pizza. The original ceiling has a beautiful, quilted look. The expansive hood could serve as a holiday dining table — for a big family.

Where's the gas tank? You have to press a button and flip up the left tail-lights to find it.

"It's been fun," Sparger says. "You drive it, and you get a lot of looks and a lot of thumbs-up."

The odometer shows only 44,764 original miles.

Sparger calls it his church car, though he drives it more than just going to church.

"It runs great, when the battery is charged," he says.

On this day, Sparger is kicking himself for leaving the driver's side door ajar after driving it Sunday. The overhead light was on for two days, draining the battery. He had to push it out of the garage.

As Sparger reminisces about the Cadillac, his wife, Tootsie, comes out the back door on her way to exercise class. Does she drive the newly restored Fleetwood?

"No," she says quickly, leaving no doubt she ever will.

"She's scared to drive it," Emil reports.

Retired for 27 years from Buck Steam Plant, Sparger has thrived in all his free time. He reads a lot, shuns the people telling him he needs a computer and famously never watches television, unless Tootsie tells him there's an Atlanta Braves game on.

Every six weeks, he delivers Meals on Wheels for his church, loving to talk with all the people on his route.

At home, Sparger moves nimbly around his vehicles. You would never know he has had both knees and a hip replaced and has successfully fought off prostate cancer.

For the record, Sparger has five cars, a truck and a golf cart.

His friends ask whether he carries insurance on everything.

"I say, 'Well, you can't drive them if you don't,'" he answers.

The friends counter that the insurance will push him toward the poorhouse.

"Well, if I go, I'll drive," Sparger says.

The old pickup is what Sparger calls a "neighborhood truck," available to everybody close by who needs it.

He lends out the golf cart, too, or drives it to the nearby Eighth Street Ballpark or to check on some pasture land he owns behind Gobbel's house.

One of his sons, Phip Sparger, lives on the corner opposite him, and that's where Emil stores another old car, his 1965 Chrysler. He bought the car 16 years ago from Smith Stokes in Reidsville. It was in pristine condition then, and has remained so under Sparger's care.

The Chrysler has only 56,000 miles on its odometer.

"That's a jewel," Sparger says. "My wife claims that one for her own."

He fishes into his pants pocket for a key and opens the trunk on the Chrysler.

"You can camp out in that one, too," he says.