May 1, 1997

A Cadillac lover keeps his gears in reverse, selling older-model parts and collecting such items as 1950s clocks

JUSTIN - John Foust is worried. He stands on his head for two minutes every morning, drinks awful-tasting concentrated vitamin concoction, goes to work amid hundreds of old Cadillac chassis, and collects 1950s clocks, "boomerang" furniture and Coke bottles.

Now, he's afraid people are beginning to think he's eccentric.

"I really don't consider myself eccentric," he said, "but I have been told that other people do. I've also been told that if others think you are eccentric, you probably are."

Foust isn't known as just John. He is "Honest" John. His business is a couple of miles west of Justin, spread out on a small hill that is blanketed with Cadillac bodies in varies stages of disrepair.

It is Honest John's Caddy Corner, a place where old Cadillacs come not to be buried, but to be disassembled and sent throughout the world to keep other Cadillacs running.

It is not a junkyard; it's a parts store, a treasure trove.

"My dad drove a Cadillac. My first car was a Cadillac," he said, explaining his affection for the General Motors product. "I fought it; I wanted a '66 Mustang. But I got used to it, and when I finally did get my Mustang, I wanted my Cadillac back."

"The Mustang didn't have power steering or air conditioning. Nothing."

Cadillacs epitomized the quality of the 1950s and '60s, he contends. They said something about our social structure.

"A red Cadillac meant new money," he said. "A big, red, Cadillac convertible meant new money combined with the short-man syndrome."

Nothing speaks more of the Cadillac's place in our history, he said, than a 1961 model he has refurbished. It sits in the spacious shop behind his office.

"It came in and had a strong heart," Foust said of the Cadillac's engine. "I couldn't dismantle it and turn it into parts. I had to rebuild it."

It was a tan color when he got it; now it is a shimmering champagne pink.

"Think of who was president in 1961," Foust asked. "Think of what we called that period, what it meant to all of us. That's why I call this car my Camelot Cadillac."

Foust is clearly locked in the past. He collects his 1950s clocks, he said, because they represent a time when families were together. At least that's what a psychologist once told him.

The furniture, the old Coke bottles - they all represent the same thing. He likes Jackson Pollack artwork and Alexander Calder mobiles.

The Honest John name even came from his past. He remembered riding down Belknap Street in Fort Worth as a child and seeing a large sign showing a man with open arms. "He had a yellow and green checkered coat on, and the sign said 'Honest John's Used Car Lot,'" Foust remembered. "I always laughed when I saw that sign. I figured he was probably a crook, but everybody remembered his name. I decided I would someday have a used-car lot and call myself Honest John."

"I've done that," he added. "Maybe I could have set my sights a little higher."

Now he is on to other ventures. His business is filled with more than 200 Cadillac hulls (it was more than 400 last year, but he sold 200 at auction), and his spare business is internationally known and respected. Currently, though, he is looking for a Ford.

"The car I'm really looking for now isn't even a Cadillac," he said emphatically. "I'm looking for a Ford Country Squire station wagon."

He has a picture of one. It has the fake wood panels along the outside, and a family riding inside.

"That's the profile of an American family," he said, pointing to the picture. "That's what we have lost with so many divorces in our society. We lost the station wagon, the family vacation. I think that's what all kids want, a father, a mother, sister and brother. All together."

People can understand his affection for the past, he believes. The can see the beauty of the Cadillacs, perhaps appreciate the memorabilia of the 1950s and '60s. What they have a tougher time coming to grips with his headstands and humor.

His homemade bumper stickers are scattered around his business. They say things like: "The Early Bird Dog Gets The Ringworm," "Old Cadillacs Never Die, They Just Grow Fins."

"I get those from my grandmother," he said. "She is one of those people who sometimes gets her words mixed up a little, but she has been a tremendous inspiration to me. She doesn't know how to say no. She is 90 years old and is right now speculating on some land around the new racetrack."

Lilly Foust, her grandson said, still stands on her head for two minutes every morning and takes a shot of vinegar to boot. That's what she says keeps her going.

"If I am eccentric, then she's where I got it," he said. "But I'll tell you what: She's 4-foot-8, German-Irish, and in a fair fistfight, she could whip us both."

"Besides," he concluded, "Isn't everyone just a little eccentric?"