Forty-two years ago, as rumors of strife and impropriety were only beginning to swirl around his fledgling car company, John Z. DeLorean entertained the idea of boosting his stainless steed. If ever a fast-looking slow car deserved more oomph, it was the DeLorean DMC-12 and its anemic 2.8-liter V-6. New York’s Legend Industries had just the thing—a twin-turbocharger upgrade that transformed the car from lamb to lion. For a tumultuous few minutes, engineer Chris Theodore and his colleagues thought they were on to something …
One day in mid-May 1980, I was sitting at my desk in Chrysler’s Highland Park Engineering Center when the phone rang. “My name is Fred Dellis,” said the voice on the other end. “I understand you’re an expert in turbocharging.”
“I have some experience,” I said. What can I do for you?”
Dellis told me he was president of Legend Industries, that they had several turbocharging programs in the works, and that Legend was looking for a vice president of engineering to lead them. I was gainfully employed at the time and told him I wasn’t interested. “You will be,” Dellis said.
He turned out to be quite persistent, and the calls continued. Finally, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to check out a potential opportunity, even if I was happy at Chrysler, so my wife and I flew to New York on a Friday evening to spend a weekend with Dellis. It was the beginning of a two-year saga I will never forget.
He turned out to be quite persistent, and the calls continued. Finally, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to check out a potential opportunity, even if I was happy at Chrysler, so my wife and I flew to New York on a Friday evening to spend a weekend with Dellis. It was the beginning of a two-year saga I will never forget.
The next morning, we were off to Long Island to visit Dellis’s Porsche/Fiat dealership in Amityville, where he introduced some of the Legend officers. In addition to his dealership, Dellis had successfully started an aftermarket turbocharging company called Windblown Systems. Emissions testing had already been completed and the kits could be dealer-installed; Windblown had even set up distribution throughout the country for Porsche 924 and VW Rabbit/Scirocco turbo kits that provided a full warranty. But Dellis wanted to take turbocharging to the OEM level. He already had a contract in hand from Fiat of North America to build a thousand Fiat Spider Turbos. He had also been in contact with John DeLorean, he said. Then he showed me the cryptic series of notes he had exchanged with John:
Dellis: “Are you interested in a turbocharged DeLorean?”
John: “Yes.”
Dellis: “Shall we meet?”
John: “Yes.”
Dellis: “When?”
John: “June 10.”
It was the John DeLorean part of the business that intrigued me. Every car guy dreams of designing his own car and starting his own car company. John looked like he might pull it off. Knowing that I would never fulfill my own dream, the next best thing would be to have a hand in helping someone else fulfill theirs.
“What will it take to bring you on board?” Dellis asked me. Before I’d even finished telling him I needed to think about it, my wife blurted out a figure. Dellis topped it, and now I was stuck. Joining Legend was a risky proposition, but I couldn’t resist the John DeLorean hook. Back in Detroit, I gave my notice at Chrysler and began preparing for the move. Then came another call from Dellis: “I need you to put together a proposal for John,” he said. “We’re meeting with him in two days.”
Proposal in hand, on June 10, 1980, I flew to New York. Dellis and I estimated the cost of the proposed twin-turbo, twin-intercooled package and headed to John’s office at 280 Park Avenue. Taking the elevator to the 43rd floor, we entered the magnificent lobby of DeLorean Motor Company.
John’s secretary, Marian Gibson, came out to escort us to his office (it was Marian who would later become a whistleblower to the British government). John was standing behind his desk as we walked in. “So you’re the guy who likes to write letters,” he said to Dellis. “Well, Mr. DeLorean,” Dellis said, “it got me in this office today.”
The whole discussion that day was very casual. I took John through the proposal, and Dellis closed the presentation with the price of the kit. Before the meeting was over, we all agreed to draw up a contract. I couldn’t believe how easy it had been, even though it was what I call a “something for nothing” deal that would be hard for an automaker to refuse: Legend would do all the engineering, development, and tooling up front, with those costs amortized into the piece price. Dellis was on cloud nine when we left DMC, and we went out on the town to celebrate.