If you regard all cars as time capsules – mobile windows into societal trends at any given point in time – then you’d be in no doubt as to the era from which the Panther DeVille harked. This coachbuilt leviathan provided the 1970s car world with a new definition of excess, from its outrageously long bonnet and unashamedly decadent, faux Gatsby-era profile, to its gas-guzzling V12 engine. In its own way, it was as emblematic of 1970s culture as bell-bottomed flares or Chopper bicycles.
But unlike those more modest period fashion statements, the DeVille didn’t come cheap. When this neo-classic creation was launched 50 years ago at the 1974 Earls Court Motor Show, it was Britain’s most expensive production car. Costing £17,650, its list price topped that of the Rolls-Royce Phantom VI and Ferrari Berlinetta Boxer – and even the then-new Lamborghini Countach.
No surprise, then, that during its eight-year life it became the darling of the rich, famous and notorious. High-profile pornographer David Sullivan owned one, as did the Shah of Iran and Saudi Arabia’s King Fahd. Fittingly, perhaps, bad boy actor Oliver Reed was a DeVille customer, along with Elton John (a DeVille appears briefly in his I’m Still Standing music video), Miami Vice actor Don Johnson and heavyweight boxer George Foreman. If you wanted to make a statement about your wealth and success, the DeVille ticked all the right boxes.
However, behind its apparently gauche façade, the Panther Westwinds company’s range-topper was probably one of the last cars produced by an independent British coachbuilder. At the time, the likes of Mulliner Park Ward, Vanden Plas and James Young (all associated with elegant Rolls-Royces and Bentleys) had either called it a day or had been absorbed by a car manufacturers keen to add a posh nameplate to their portfolios.
Robert (Bob) Jankel founded Panther Westwinds – Panther, a good-hearted dig at Jaguar and Westwinds from the name of his home in Walton-on-Thames, Surrey – in 1970. His family owned an East End fashion business and it was here that Jankel’s sartorial flair (he designed children’s clothing ranges) soon gave way to an interest in car design and restoration.
Panther’s first model, the J72, typified Jankel’s love of pre-war machinery in its unashamedly retro design, but combined it with modern, proprietary running gear for greatly improved durability and efficiency. Given that the J72 had more than a passing resemblance to the SS Jaguar 100 of 1936, it was only appropriate that the then-British, Leyland-owned Jaguar Cars provided much of the mechanical and suspension hardware. Jankel’s son, Andrew, recalls that one of his father’s greatest skills was with people: “He once said that you achieve much more by listening and talking with people than being in opposition to them. Through these skills he built up good contacts with Jaguar over parts for the J72. …He never understood the word ‘no’; he was very much a can-do kind of person.”
However, while the J72 firmly established Panther as a maker of bespoke, hand-built cars, it was the DeVille that garnered the most fanfare for the fledgling company. Jankel had been a long-time admirer of Ettore Bugatti’s work – and the DeVille, with its immense body and inverted-horseshoe radiator grille, was his homage to the Type 41 Royale, one of the largest and most imposing pre-war cars.
Weighing nearly two tonnes and measuring 17ft between its US-homologated, impact-absorbing chrome bumpers, the DeVille couldn’t quite match the displacement of the Royale’s 12,760cc engine, but Jaguar’s 5.3-litre V12 was a credible substitute. The DeVille employed a bespoke ladder-frame chassis, on to which was mounted a hand-formed aluminium body, with Austin 1800 doors for the Saloon and those from a Jaguar XJ-C for the two-door Convertible. Independent suspension all round was a step forward compared with the J72’s more primitive arrangement, while also mirroring the much-admired Jaguar XJ’s set-up.
No item of equipment was too lavish for a DeVille, each of which took about nine months to emerge from Panther’s works. Full leather trim and air-conditioning were de rigueur, as were wool carpets and burr walnut facings. But options extended to a telephone, cocktail cabinet, TV and VCR – and not forgetting the obligatory whitewall tyres for anyone resident in Los Angeles in the 70s.
Peter Ward has owned his pristine 1981 DeVille Saloon for nine years and reckons that people are far more familiar with the model now than ever before, thanks to its starring role as Cruella de Vil’s wheels in the 101– and 102 Dalmatian films from 1996 and 2000, as well as more recently in the 2021 film Cruella. While the screen cars were highly modified, Ward’s retains its original specification and is one of only 48 Saloons built by Panther.
Even rarer, though, is Ray Bridges’ DeVille Convertible, only nine of which were produced to order. This earlier 1976 car was first displayed on Panther’s stand at the Earls Court Motor Show, before being exported to Beverly Hills Carriage House, the company’s US West Coast distributor. It remained in America for 12 years, before Bridges purchased the car in 1988. “I love its styling, extravagance, quirkiness and eccentricity,” he declares – although he doesn’t consider himself eccentric at all.
But how can you not be eccentric to own a DeVille? I took a brief drive in Ward’s Saloon to find out. Its interior is quite narrow, with no space between the overstuffed front chairs, which provide a commanding view over the long, elegant bonnet. As you’d expect from having a lengthy 12ft wheelbase, this DeVille is far from wieldy on our twisty, rural test route, but it remains composed at 60mph, despite its old-fashioned body-on-frame structure.
Its ride is sublime, too; proving what an excellent choice Jankel made to use Jaguar XJ underpinnings. The performance is also brisk if you want it to be, with the murmurings from one of the world’s best V12 engines always kept in check. You would never say that the DeVille was a “drivers’ car”, but as a boulevardier it’s surprisingly capable.
Vulgar and polarising these DeVilles may be in today’s sanitised and politically correct times. But they also stand out as a perfect tribute to Bob Jankel’s skill and craftsmanship – as well as a remarkable insight into the tastes of the rich and infamous of 50 years ago.
