More reflections on Phil Alderman - from the experiences of John Kuliak

Some people come into your life through a shared interest, but stay there because of who they are. That’s exactly what happened when John Kuliak first met Phil Alderman in Chicago in the late 1980s.

They crossed paths at the annual Ferrari Memorabilia show, held at Joe Marchetti’s Como Inn Restaurant. In a room where most collectors were focused on Ferraris, John went in a different direction, drawn to the obscure and unusual (this is how John and I bonded, too!). Phil noticed. In fact, he was genuinely floored that someone recognized a Veritas.

John ended up buying a few of Phil’s 1:43rd scale Hungarian-made Veritas roadsters, along with other “weird cars” that didn’t fit the mainstream collecting trend. That was the beginning of a bond rooted in the oddballs, the overlooked subjects, the uncommon stories, and the kind of collecting that’s driven more by curiosity than convention.

That friendship deepened in the 1990s when Phil began coming to Chicago each year for Don Anderson’s legendary Strictly 43rd shows. John became Phil’s designated “helper,” and Phil, in his own generous way, always insisted on giving John a free model for his “trouble.” It was never transactional. It was simply who Phil was.

Whenever John found himself in New York, he made time to visit Phil. By then, Phil’s reach within the car world was extraordinary. John remembers that Phil seemed to know every important car person on the East Coast, and not just socially. Phil was a conduit: sourcing and supplying collectors with artisan models from all around the globe.

And it wasn’t simply rare, in the casual sense of the word. Phil dealt in pieces that were often obscure in subject and maker and sometimes genuinely fragile works of micro-engineering. John recalls, for example, some incredibly detailed and delicate 1/43rd Honda racing motorcycles by MEA, made by Bruno Mea, who John notes is apparently still active today. Beyond that, many of the models Phil handled weren’t part of any run at all—true one-offs. Many, many one-offs.

Phil also worked at the highest end of the hobby’s craftsmanship, handling extreme rarities like the late Alain Bouissou’s super-detailed Bugatti models, pieces revered by serious collectors for their precision and artistry.

John also speaks candidly about the harder side of Phil’s story. Like many people who seem almost too good for the world they live in, Phil has faced more than his share of bad luck—more, John says, than most people could handle. And yet, what stands out most is what didn’t happen: Phil never became bitter. He's remained, in John’s words, “the sweetest person on God’s Earth.”

Phil’s life changed when he met his wife, Elisabeth. Together they built a family and welcomed their son, Nathan. Phil also received the kidney he needed—another chapter that could have ended differently, but didn’t. Nathan, John notes, continues to enjoy the love and presence of both parents.

John last saw the family a few years ago at Grand Central Station. Phil needed a cane, and he tired quickly. John left that meeting with a clear sense that day-to-day life isn’t easy for Phil. And as is true for so many people, the resources—time, money, energy—that once went toward a beloved hobby now go where they should: toward family. Phil still loves the Autocult line in particular, but Nathan’s needs come first.

Still, John says, none of that is what defines Phil’s story.

“The look on Phil’s face when he speaks of his family tells me that, in spite of everything life has unfairly thrown at him, in the most important ways of all, Phil Alderman is doing just fine,” John wrote. “I have never met a finer human being.”

And in a detail only car people will fully appreciate: Nathan’s middle name is Mercer—yes, named after the car.

It’s fitting, really. Phil has spent a lifetime connecting people through cars, craftsmanship, and the niche corners of a hobby that’s bigger than it looks from the outside. He dealt with small-time artisans from across the globe, championed the obscure, and helped hook countless collectors along the way.

But if you ask John what matters most, it’s not the models, rare as they may be.

It’s the man.