After dad's death, Meredith Jaffe of East Northport went on a quest to find the one-of-a-kind Phantom Corsair he loved

In 1940, 13-year-old Herb Jaffe fell in love at the New York World’s Fair with a low-slung, futuristic-looking car that touted the features of tomorrow: The Phantom Corsair.

Even the name of the car carried a mystique. And later, when he was a father with a passion for fixing and buying collectible cars, his daughter, Meredith, said he would often speak to her of the 1938 prototype, dreamed up by a grandson of the Heinz ketchup founder.

“It’s the most special car ever,” he’d tell her. “You must see it one day.”

After his death in 2016, Meredith B. Jaffe embarked on a yearslong quest to learn more about the one-of-a-kind automobile that had once been celebrated in movies and magazines. She said she traveled to five states, spoke to past owners’ families, tracked down an old film vignette created by Popular Science magazine, examined library and government archives, visited auto museums and spoke to the car’s mechanics.

This summer, she self-published her footnoted, photo-filled book, “The Phantom Corsair: A Remarkable Journey,” which is available on Amazon.

“I felt if he was interested in it, I want to be interested in it,” said Jaffe, 62, of East Northport, of her drive to research the car that had so fascinated her father. “To me, there were mysteries associated with it, like what became of it. As I was reading more about it, I found out what a fascinating journey it had been on.”

CAR TALK

Growing up, Jaffe’s son, Jason Schloss, recalled car talk was the most common topic in his household. His mom adored her father, Schloss said, and always tried to spread awareness of “all these old cars that you don’t see much around anymore.”

This love of vintage vehicles had started when, as a young boy, Herb Jaffe would take photos of cars he liked, whether they were parked on the street or in auto shows. As he got older, he drew his own concept cars, his daughter said.

The mechanical engineer worked for a brief time in the 1950s as a car designer for General Motors before going on to Grumman and then investigating swimming pool collapses, she said. And he always saw the value in old cars, which he rescued and restored.

“He didn’t want the practical type cars,” Jaffe recalled. “He enjoyed solving the mechanical issues that arose.”

Jaffe said she was driving by age 14. When her father was transporting one of his cars to a show, she recalled, she drove behind him so he could switch lanes first, paving the way for him and his precious cargo to change lanes. She drove the family’s 1953 black-and-silver Bentley to her senior prom and visited 19 of the 47 surviving Tucker 48 cars, an innovative sedan built in the 1940s.

While her father was alive, she said, his automotive knowledge intimidated her.

“I wish he had taught me more,” she said. “I wish I had asked more.”

After his death, Jaffe said she found a cache of Phantom Corsair artifacts, including articles and photos.

Her father had framed a drawing he made of the black supercar and hung it over his drafting table at his Woodbury home. But among his hundreds of car drawings was a simple sketch Jaffe said she had never seen before of the Phantom Corsair, which young Herb had penciled from memory after his World’s Fair trip.

The sketch was particularly poignant because, she said, “It was an early connection to the car he held in such high esteem.”

That discovery, she said, would set her on a journey into the origins, and many lives, of the vehicle her father loved so much.

AHEAD OF ITS TIME

The Phantom Corsair was unusual.

It seated four in the front, including one to the left of the driver, and two in the back seat, which faced the spare tire compartment and the road just traveled.

Jaffe said one of her favorite finds in her search for artifacts were the rare marketing brochures touting the Phantom Corsair’s marvels: The doors opened with electric push buttons. Roof panels above the doors flipped up to make it easier to get in and out. A dashboard light warned of a door ajar. Minibars were hidden on the sides of the car by the back seat, with the cabinets lighting up when their doors opened.

The concept car gained a mystique during the golden age of Hollywood and the post-World War II boom and was celebrated in films, including the 1938 Oscar-nominated “The Young in Heart.”

Some of the hype was exaggerated: One article mentioned the car bottom was made of glass, Jaffe found, while another trumpeted fantastic speeds of 180 mph — when the reality was closer to 120 mph.

“There are so many mistakes out there all around,” Jaffe said. “I fact-checked diligently. It was a journey of self-discovery, too, as I realized just how tenacious I could be as I contacted people in this country as well as globally to write the Phantom Corsair’s story.”

HEINZ AND OTHER OWNERS

In reaching out to the families of the car’s past owners, Jaffe said one of her greatest disappointments was not being able to get through to the Heinz family.

Rust Heinz, grandson of ketchup founder Henry Heinz, was a young racing enthusiast and Yale University dropout. In the 1930s, he designed a “quirky” delivery vehicle for his family’s company with a curved, streamlined body.

The Phantom Corsair prototype was built in 1938 by Christian Bohman and Maurice Schwartz, based in Pasadena, California. It never made it to production, however, because Heinz was killed in a crash in Pennsylvania in July 1939. He had been riding with friends when the wind blew away the driver’s trilby hat. His friend steered left to go back for his hat and misjudged the speed of an oncoming car. The two vehicles crashed, and Heinz died. He was 25.

“It was important to recognize this dreamer and visionary,” Jaffe said. ”I think that my father may have identified with Rust’s idea to create the car of his dreams. Design elements and milestone cars were of foremost importance to my dad; cars were not mere transportation. I feel the same way.”

Jaffe said she traveled to places of significance to Heinz, like the Pasadena house where he lived as a newlywed. She took a photo, she said, and the residents yelled at her to leave.

She learned, she said, that Heinz’s prototype was sold several times but never for more than the low five figures. But the biggest surprise from her research was how many owners the Phantom Corsair had in its “nomadic decade” — at least seven in the 1940s.

“The car was almost handled haphazardly, but surely enjoyed,” she said.

Several owners modified it over the years, she said. Her book shows a magazine cover with one of her favorite looks for the car, done in 1950 by humorist and TV host Herb Shriner, who replaced the black paint with banana yellow on top and reddish-brown on the sides.

In 1971, the concept car had its most famous owner, Nevada casino and hotel magnate William Harrah, who bought it for $20,000, Jaffe wrote. He returned it to its original specifications as much as possible, including a glossy black exterior, according to the book.

After Harrah’s death in 1978, many of his collectible cars were auctioned off, but an outcry over the breakup of so much car history led to the creation of the National Automobile Museum in Reno, Nevada.

AT THE STEERING WHEEL

The museum now houses Herb Jaffe’s “most special car.” In 2021, Meredith Jaffe said Stuart Sobek, founder of the Las Vegas Concours d’Elegance car competition, arranged for her to see the Phantom Corsair close up.

She said she was lucky because the day she visited, the car was being serviced in the museum’s on-site garage, rather than tucked away behind a cordon.

“I think I could see tears in her eyes,” recalled Schloss, who accompanied her. “If she said anything to her father, it was silently to herself. But there was definitely a connection with his spirit.”

Jaffe said she sat behind the Phantom Corsair’s steering wheel and gauge-filled dashboard. She looked under the car. She examined its engine. She clambered into the back, which involved folding down the back of the front seat first. She questioned the mechanics and the museum docents on the car.

It was as if her family’s personal history and the car’s melded into one. “I ‘got’ why my father was so enthralled by it,” his daughter said. “I felt its history of its creation, the tragic demise of Rust, the many who had stewardship of it over time, its return to its former glory and finally saved by concerned people to be a star . . . Of course, I purchased every available souvenir that day!”

FATHER-DAUGHTER BOND

Jaffe doesn’t have her father’s automotive repair knowledge, but after his death, she said she vowed to immerse herself in car culture to better understand him. She enrolled in automobile courses and became a judge for the Greater New York Region Antique Automobile Club of America. This past summer, she said she purchased her first collectible, a 1954 Kaiser Darrin sports car whose doors slide open like pocket doors.

One of her therapeutic pastimes is detailing her favorite collectible car, her father’s Bentley, with a toothbrush to scrub the wheels.

“It’s a nice thing to do if you’re a little obsessive,” the dentist said. “It’s kind of like keeping teeth clean.”

And while her book may be done, Jaffe said her Phantom Corsair journey has not ended. She said she hopes to one day ride in the car and also track down original parts taken out during its various owners’ modifications.

Jaffe’s ongoing quest is not just about the one famous automobile, she said, but about inspiring the love of old cars, as she has done with her children: “It’s a concept of legacy, to share the past to enrich the future.”