The Cabriolet & The Castle

The Cabriolet & The Castle

In the late 1800’s, the Texas Military Institute bought 32 acres located high on a hill just outside of downtown Austin and built themselves a fine looking castle to be used as their headquarters. It was modeled after Westpoint and held a stern and demanding view over the city below. Ten years later, TMI was closed and a guy named Jacob Bickler moved the Texas, English, and German Academy into the space. Jacob’s enterprise lasted all of four or five years before he was shut down by the introduction of public schooling. Then, a doctor moved his family into the castle. Then, there was a fire. Then, there was bankruptcy. Then… Well, all kinds of shit went south on the property through the years.

About a decade ago, the property was turned over to a mysterious local and restored with an astounding vigilance towards detail. Shortly thereafter a strong and impenetrable fence, a modern moat if you will, was built around the property as well. And if that weren’t enough to keep the suits out, this mysterious property developer turned over the concrete land below to graffiti artists and creative types with the kind of ambition Yankee taggers could only dream of.

Castle Hill is essentially the Fort Knox of Austin, Texas. You can look at it and you can admire it… But, if you want to get in and I mean truly get in, you have to know someone or be good with a can. I’m neither and wanted nothing more than to shoot Blake Burwell’s newly acquired ’39 cabriolet on the campus. So, I started to search for an alternative way in.

That search took me from City Hall to illegitimate dope peddlers in a journey that wasn’t nearly as long as it should have been. I heard rumors that the castle was owned by Pee Wee Herman and filled to the brim with 80’s era pornography. Another man told me the castle was inhabited by a real life Batman character that only came out at night and only to fight crime of the arts. I still don’t know where the truth lies.

Eventually, I gave up the hunt and told Blake we’d have to find another locale for his ’39 shoot. “Never mind the castle’s squire,” Blake said. “Just meet me at the front gate around golden hour and we will get this done. It has to be on Sunday though – that’s the only time my guy can do his thing.”

Exasperated and confused, I agreed… and showed up around 4:30pm on a Sunday to find Blake and some guy on an Italian Super Bike waiting for me at the front gate. As I approached, the anonymous man typed a code on the gate’s keypad in the same way he’d dial his mom’s phone number, and with no more idea of being turned down. As soon as he was done, the security cameras went limp and the gates slowly cranked open with a thud. And just like that, the man thundered off on his bike.

“But, how?” I asked.

“Social engineering,” Blake responded. “He’s my guy for such operations. He called the tech line for the people that manufactured the keypad and told them he had locked his girlfriend’s cat behind her gate without food or water. The nice lady responded with the default code. Bob’s your uncle. Batman is out and about on Sundays,” he added. “So, we should have a couple of hours before he’s back.”

I couldn’t believe my luck, or Blake’s resourcefulness for that matter, and quickly got to work shooting the ’39 while graffiti artist scoffed and ridiculed from below. Like I mentioned, Blake’s ’39 is a recent acquisition. He bought the car from Billy Powell in Houston. Billy originally bought the car as an older stock restoration and then employed Dave Martinez out in California to do most of the custom work. Around the time the car was getting finished up, Billy stumbled across a ’35 Cabriolet and something had to give. Billy chose to keep the ’35 and sent the ’39 to the classifieds.

Blake has only had the car for a few months, but he’s already well into getting it road worthy. Little things needed tidying up like the exhaust and a few other odds and ends. And, as seems to always be the case, bigger projects are on the horizon. An overdrive rear has been sourced and the tranny is starting to complain by way of symbolic noises and acts of mischief. All of that being said, some fairly serious driveline work is on the horizon.

None of that, however, has kept Blake from enjoying the car in the present. And when she was sitting on Castle Hill, it was hard not to ignore the amazing view of Austin, Texas as well as the stink eyes from the artists below and just gawk at the beautiful form in Washington Blue. The proportions of the Carson like soft top along with the stance and the original ’39 body lines couldn’t be more perfect. It’s as if Westergard himself swept down from the heavens and sprinkled a little fairy dust upon us.

I was in such a trance that time soon got away from me. At around 8pm, the fairy dust got heavier and started to leave a mark. John Joyo had joined us on the shoot and at one point I heard him scream in agony. His pain broke my trance. I looked up from the eye piece of my camera and noticed that both Joyo and Blake were diving for cover – each of them featuring small splashes of paint on their clothing.

I was certainly taken aback, but I’m also an experienced hoodlum. There’s a famous line written by some fellas in Houston that says something along the lines of “real gangstas don’t run, cuz a real gangsta don’t have ta.” I’m paraphrasing here, but the point is this:

If your boys aren’t on the track team and they are running, it’s a good idea to follow suit. So, I did.

The three of us took cover in the bushes that lined the castle and regrouped. After a quick assessment of the situation, we all decided that Pee Wee Herman (or maybe it was Batman) was on top of the Castle’s turret and taking pot shots at us with a paint ball gun. Splashes of orange evidence littered the ground around us and trailed us as we made a break for the ’39. By the time the little flathead roared through the gates, it was half way through a color change.

I looked back from the rumble seat hoping to a get a glimpse of the man in the high castle, but only saw a shadow escaping back into the easements of the old building. With a chance to finally relax and think, I took appraisal of the situation. Net/net, it hadn’t gone well. Blake’s ’39 was half shaded with an 80’s era neon orange paint job and Joyo had a knot the size of a baseball on the side of his Trump shaded head, but… We got the shots.

Enjoy:

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