Remember all those stories you've heard about a classic car that sold for next to nothing because a guy died in the front seat? Well, this one is true.

On February 8, 1959, Maurice Gagnon was shot as he sat in the front seat ofhis own Eldorado Seville. The blood stains on the floor mats are authentic.

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You've heard the story. "My brother-in-law's friend's third cousin knows a widow who has a '53 Corvette. It's in perfect shape, but the widow's son was killed in it, so she let it sit for thirty-six years. Now she wants to sell it but doesn't have a clue how much it's worth."

The death of the owner is a pervasive theme, but these stories have unlimited permutations. The car is always something interesting, rare, and valuable, never a '65 Comet. Often, the car was never resold because the owner died at the wheel and they couldn't get the smell out.

The story is never completely true (except, of course, for your personal stories, which will doubtless flood our mailbox momentarily). But keep an open mind about this one.

We know where there's an absolutely original - down to the tires and battery - 1959 Cadillac Eldorado Seville. This monument to conspicuous consumption, complete with tail fins that rival those of an F-84, has only 2232 miles on the odometer - the lowest-mileage 1959 Cadillac in the world, as far as we can determine.

It's in perfect shape because it was stored in a heated government garage as state's evidence for a murder case. Indeed, the owner was executed in the front seat.

After the trial, the Cadillac was no longer needed for evidence, andthe state eventually returned it to the family, who stored it in a corner of a ware house. Finally, they offered it for sale. The first time he heard the story, John Pfanstiehl, a lover and collector of late-Fifties Cadillacs, didn't believe it, either. "I was talking to a successful businessman, "recalls Pfanstiehl, "and he told me about this car that hadn't been driven since new because the owner died in it. I sighed and rolled my eyes. Then he said, 'Do you want me to call and find out if it's for sale?' Pop! went the myth. The guy called, I saw it and bought it."

Pfanstiehl's white 1959 Cadillac Eldorado Seville, with silver-blue top and trim, is a rare (only 975 were produced) and, uh, interesting example of a styling theme hitting critical mass. Under the acres of sheet metal are three carburetors, 345 horsepower, and an air suspension. The original price, less options, was $7401, which in 1959 would have bought four Chevrolets.

The car's original owner, Maurice Gagnon of Cumberland, Rhode Island, was an arche type of the time. A self-made man, Gagnon started a plastics business in his basement and soon turned it into an international concern. In newspaper reports of the murder, he was described as a man about town who carried 1000 pre-inflation dollars in his pocket.

Gagnon's residence was burglarized in the winter of 1958, soon after he bought the Cadillac. Frederick J. Martineau and Russell J. Nelson were accused of the crime and thus faced life imprisonment under Rhode Island's "burglary committed after 6:00 p.m." statute. On February 8, 1959, they tried to force Gagnon into changing his testimony. Even after a beating, Gagnon refused, so they shot him as he sat in the passenger's seat of his own car. The Cadillac and Gagnon were dumped in a bad section of Nashua, New Hampshire.

It's possible the two might have made their escape except that, while attempting to slip away from the scene at 1:00 a.m., Nelson drove the wrong way out of Nashua. They turned around and went back through town, and that attracted the attention of two rookie cops, who stopped and held the out-of-towners on "suspicion." (Remember this was 1959.)

After sitting in a state garage for fifteen years, the car was returned to Gagnon's company in 1974 - where it sat for another seven years until Pfanstiehl heard about it. It took Pfanstiehl several more years to obtain the Cadillac's floor mats. He pestered officials until the mats, complete with blood stains, were found in a musty court house basement.

When Pfanstiehl finally got the car, it had 2216 miles on the clock. He drove it only another sixteen miles, just to see what 1959 was like. You can see the legendary Caddy yourself if you visit the Car Palace Museum in Somerset, Massachusetts. But we'll warn you right now, not all the legend is intact. The seats don't smell.

--Mac DeMere

Automobile Magazine, July 1990.