Daniel Rubin: Philadelphia race car museum up for international award

November 14, 2011|By Daniel Rubin, Inquirer Columnist
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  • 1933 Alfa Romero Monza (Left) and 1937 Alfa Romero SC 2900A are displayed at the Simeone Foundation Museum. (Akira Suwa / Staff Photographer )
  • 1933 Alfa Romero Monza (Left) and 1937 Alfa Romero SC 2900A are displayed at the Simeone Foundation Museum. (Akira Suwa / Staff Photographer ) (INQ SUWA )
  • Racing cars from Le Mans (1932 - 1970) are displaying in the Simeone Foundation Museum. (Akira Suwa / Staff Photographer) (INQ SUWA )
  • Dr. Fred Simeone in a 1928 Alfa Romeo 2900B MM. This car is his favorite on display at the Simeone Foundation Museum. (Akira Suwa / Staff Photographer) (INQ SUWA )
  • Dr. Fred Simeone in a 1928 Alfa Romeo 2900B MM. This car is his favorite on display at the Simeone Foundation Museum. (Akira Suwa / Staff Photographer) (INQ SUWA )

A doctor who grew up in Kensington collects what others overlook, displaying his finds in a quirky manner and gaining more notice abroad than at home.

Think of Fred Simeone as the Albert Barnes of classic racing cars.

On Wednesday, Simeone, 75, of Chestnut Hill, a retired Philadelphia neurosurgeon, will don black tie in London, where his Simeone Foundation Museum is short-listed for an International Historic Motoring Award. A big deal.

But there's a good chance you've not visited the Simeone museum, unless you happened to be driving among the gentleman's clubs and rental-car lots in the wastelands off Essington Avenue and followed the placards pointing to the "race car museum."

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Comedian Jay Leno has found his way there. So has world champion driver Mario Andretti.

"We're really David among the Goliaths," says Simeone, who is competing against England's Jaguar Heritage Collection and National Motor Museum, Germany's Automuseum Prototyp, and the Peterson Automotive Museum in Los Angeles.

Compared with the others, Simeone's museum is an upstart, open only since 2008, in a no-frills former engine-remanufacturing plant on Norwitch Drive.

"We'd like to be on the Parkway," says museum spokesman Harry Hurst, a former racing photographer. "But they might object to the noise."

The fourth Saturday of each month, Simeone takes some of his 66 cars out for a run on the foundation's three acres of blacktop. Despite spanning nearly a century of racing history, these are working cars, not replicas. They're loud. They smell. They're gorgeous.

Just one family was touring the museum when I dropped by one afternoon last week to check out the collection. One way to appreciate its message is to stand along a wall of 10 cars that raced at LeMans, starting with the Howe blue 1933 Alfa Romeo and ending with the violet and green 1970 Porsche nicknamed "The Hippie."

To Simeone, the line of racers speaks to the evolutionary force of competition. "Wheels got smaller, but tires got fatter, the engine got smaller, but horsepower got greater," Simeone says. "The cars became streamlined while becoming much safer - all because they had to win, finish the race, do it better than they did it last year."

What drove Simeone was the desire to make his father proud. As a teen in the early 1950s, he'd go on house calls with his dad, a family doctor from Frankford and Allegheny. Then they'd root through junkyards looking for discarded automobiles.

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