In the tranquil, sun-drenched hills of Coto de Caza, California, amidst manicured landscapes and luxury homes, Major General William Lyon, a retired Air Force veteran and real estate magnate, proudly presents a vehicle of extraordinary historical weight – a meticulously preserved Mercedes-Benz. “It’s wonderful to drive,” he remarks, highlighting its surprisingly pristine condition despite its age. However, this is no ordinary classic car. Parked before us is a 1941 Mercedes-Benz 770K Grosser W150 Offener Tourenwagen, a vehicle of immense size and even greater historical significance. Its deep blue, almost black paint gleams under the Californian sun, reflecting a past far removed from this peaceful setting. This automotive behemoth, stretching over 20 feet, is not just rare; it’s uniquely infamous.
This particular Mercedes-Benz harbors secrets beneath its polished exterior. Discreet compartments are built into the upholstery, designed to hold Luger pistols. More significantly, concealed armor plating and bulletproof glass transform this limousine into a veritable tank. Three-quarter-inch steel plates and 1.5-inch thick window glass offer protection against grenade blasts and landmines, contributing to the car’s staggering five-ton weight. But the most striking detail, the one that casts a long shadow over its gleaming chrome, is its original purpose: this car was built for Adolf Hitler.
General Lyon, a 92-year-old with a lifetime of accomplishments, from wartime pilot to successful businessman, has amassed an impressive collection of vintage aircraft and automobiles. His Lyon Air Museum showcases his aviation treasures, while his car collection, including this infamous Mercedes, remains a private passion. The allure of this specific vehicle, steeped in dark history, is what draws visitors like myself from thousands of miles away. My journey from New York to Southern California is driven by a fascination with these “Hitler’s Mercedes,” vehicles that survived war and crossed continents, becoming bizarre artifacts of history.
Post-war America witnessed the arrival of several Mercedes-Benz limousines, salvaged from the ruins of Nazi Germany. These cars, often billed as “Hitler’s cars,” became unlikely attractions at war bond drives and public events. While some claims were dubious, General Lyon’s Mercedes stands apart due to its documented connection to the Nazi dictator.
Daimler-Benz archives in Stuttgart confirm this Mercedes as a geschenkwagen, a presentation car. Hitler frequently gifted Grosser 770K limousines, including armored versions, to foreign dignitaries. Field Marshal Carl Gustaf Mannerheim of Finland was one such recipient. In 1941, facing Soviet aggression, Mannerheim aligned Finland with Nazi Germany. Hitler’s gift, this very Mercedes-Benz, was a thank you for this alliance.
While technically a gift to Mannerheim, the car’s association with Hitler is undeniable. Historical records, including the diary of Hitler’s chauffeur, place Hitler inspecting this car in Poland and using it during a 1942 visit to Mannerheim in Finland. Although Hitler only rode in it twice, these occasions cemented its identity as “Hitler’s car” in the public consciousness, particularly after its arrival in America.
Knowing Hitler’s connection to this Mercedes transforms the perception of every detail. The car’s design, even described in the 1930s as exhibiting “aggressive styling and Teutonic arrogance,” takes on a sinister dimension. The imposing chrome grille, the massive fenders like “panther claws,” the running boards seemingly designed for jackboots – all contribute to an aura of power and menace. Under the heavy hood, the straight-8 engine, a marvel of engineering, becomes a “terrifying enterprise” of polished metal and dark enamel. Hitler, who famously declared he could “not tolerate a car manufactured by another company,” would have undoubtedly appreciated the 770K’s imposing presence and German craftsmanship.
General Lyon’s appreciation for the 770K is different. For him, it represents the pinnacle of his collecting passion. His long-term goal, he explained, was to restore this remarkable machine. Surprisingly, when he acquired the car 31 years prior, he was not fully aware of its complete Hitler history.
Grosser 770Ks rarely become available for purchase. In 1984, alerted by a broker to a 770K stored in an abandoned roller rink in San Diego, Lyon and his son Bill investigated. Bill Lyon, now CEO of William Lyon Homes, recalls the secretive viewing: “It was like a speakeasy. Only when my dad knocked did they let us in.” The car was in good condition, and the price, kept private by the Lyons, was deemed reasonable. Documentation was absent, but the broker’s claim that it was “Hitler’s car” was enough for General Lyon.
It’s important to note that the Lyons weren’t entirely buying blind. The car was already known in America as Hitler’s car. Its journey to the US began in 1948 when Chicago importer Christopher Janus acquired it from a Swedish businessman. Miscommunication or embellished storytelling transformed the Mercedes gifted to Mannerheim into simply “Hitler’s car” upon arrival at New York’s Pier 97.
The “Hitler’s car” quickly became a sensation. Throughout the late 1940s and 1950s, it toured America, drawing crowds and raising funds for charities. It was displayed at Rockefeller Center, attracting celebrity visitors like Howdy Doody, and even participated in publicity stunts, driven across states with a “Liberty Torch.” Initially, Americans viewed it as a war trophy, a tangible symbol of victory.
However, the public perception shifted in the 1960s. As awareness of the Holocaust grew, the car became less a trophy and more a controversial relic. While it fetched record prices at auction, reaching $176,000 in 1973, it also attracted unwanted attention, including death threats, leading to sales by concerned owners.
For the Lyons, too, the 770K has been a complex acquisition. Its restoration was a decades-long undertaking due to its intricate engineering and the challenge of finding parts, like tires capable of supporting its immense weight. Adding to the complexity, shortly after purchase, Bill Lyon discovered evidence debunking the direct “Hitler’s car” narrative in a book by Mercedes expert Jan Melin. Melin clarified that Hitler only rode in this specific car twice.
Despite the nuances of its ownership history, the undeniable link to Hitler remains. This Mercedes-Benz was built for, and briefly used by, the architect of unimaginable atrocities. This dark association prompts reflection on why anyone would choose to own such a relic.
Bill Lyon acknowledges the generational divide in understanding the car’s significance. “Separating the [car’s] historical significance from the evil side of what the Nazis were about may be harder for the younger generation,” he observes. He understands why some question owning it, but emphasizes its importance as a “piece of history,” both as an engineering marvel and a grim reminder of the past, “so as not to forget what happened.”
Sitting in the back seat, where Hitler himself once sat during his Finnish visit in 1942, is a chilling experience. The black leather interior, though unoccupied, feels far from empty. The weight of history is palpable. Stepping back onto the marble floor of General Lyon’s museum, I notice the car rests on a turntable, now broken under its five-ton burden. It’s a fitting metaphor for the heavy weight of history that this “Hitler’s Mercedes” carries – a weight that continues to fascinate, disturb, and demand remembrance.
