
The car buried for 50 years was a 1957 Plymouth Belvedere, known as "Miss Belvedere." It was interred in a sealed vault in Tulsa, Oklahoma, on June 15, 1957, as a time capsule and unearthed on June 15, 2007. The vehicle was severely damaged by water infiltration, with its steel body extensively corroded, rendering it non-restorable to driving condition.
This unique public history project was conceived by Tulsa leaders to celebrate Oklahoma's 50th year of statehood. The brand-new, gold and white two-door hardtop was chosen as the centerpiece for a time capsule meant to be opened in 2007. The car was buried in a custom-built, 12-foot-deep concrete vault beneath the lawn of the Tulsa County Courthouse. The sealing ceremony was a major civic event, drawing large crowds.
Miss Belvedere's trunk and interior were packed with memorabilia from 1957, intended to snapshot life in that era for future citizens. Key items included a 5-gallon can of gasoline (anticipating future scarcity), a case of Schlitz beer, a ladies' purse with contents, and various documents, photos, and films detailing Tulsa's life and culture.
The excavation in 2007 was a nationally televised event. However, upon opening the vault, workers found it filled with water. The protective vault had failed, subjecting the car to decades of water damage. The vehicle was extensively rusted, with its tires disintegrated, upholstery ruined, and mechanical components fused. An estimated 80-90% of the steel body was corroded. Most paper artifacts in the trunk were destroyed, though some items, like the steel can of gasoline and a few sealed containers, were recovered.
After its recovery, the car underwent stabilization to halt further decay. It is not drivable and exists as a preserved artifact. Today, Miss Belvedere is permanently displayed at the Tulsa Historical Society & Museum, serving as a poignant reminder of the ambitious project and the unforeseen challenges of long-term preservation. Its story is less about a perfectly preserved classic car and more about a community's attempt to speak to the future, with the results highlighting the harsh realities of material decay.
| Time Capsule Item Category | Examples from 1957 |
|---|---|
| Automotive/Fuel | 5-gallon can of gasoline, spark plugs, motor oil |
| Consumer Goods | Case of Schlitz beer, cigarettes, a bottle of tranquilizers |
| Personal Effects | A woman's purse with cosmetics, bobby pins, and a $10 check |
| Cultural Records | Microfilms of books, newspapers, photos of city events |
| Miscellaneous | A flag, city documents, predictions about 2007 |

I was a kid in Tulsa back in '57 and remember the big fuss when they buried that Plymouth. The whole town turned out. They painted it special, filled it up with junk from the times, and lowered it into that big hole like it was a spaceship. We all wondered what folks in 2007 would think. Fast forward fifty years, and I was there for the digging-up too. What a letdown. That beautiful car was just a rusted shell. It was sad, but kinda poetic. It taught everyone a lesson: even the best-laid plans can go wrong, and time wins in the end. Now it sits in the museum, all quiet and ruined, telling a much deeper story than anyone planned.

As a historian, I find Miss Belvedere fascinating not as a car, but as a failed cultural experiment. The 1957 committee meticulously curated items they believed defined their era—gasoline, beer, tranquilizers. This selection itself is a historical document, revealing mid-century American anxieties and consumerism. The project’s failure due to water damage is equally instructive. It underscores a common oversight in preservation: the arrogance of assuming our containers are permanent. The car’s current state as a corroded relic is arguably more valuable than a pristine vehicle would have been. It physically manifests the passage of time and the fragility of our attempts to communicate with the future. It’s a powerful, unintended monument to entropy.

Let’s talk about the preservation disaster. They used a concrete vault, thinking it was impervious. Big mistake. Concrete is porous and cracks over decades, especially in Oklahoma’s soil with its freeze-thaw cycles and water table. The vault became a bathtub. For 50 years, the car sat in stagnant water, leading to catastrophic galvanic corrosion. Every piece of steel was eaten away. Organic materials like the upholstery and paper records turned to mush. Modern time capsule projects study this failure. Today, experts would use inert gas purging, multiple moisture barriers, and stainless steel or titanium containers. Miss Belvedere is now a textbook case of what not to do for long-term burial, making it ironically invaluable to conservation science.

From a car enthusiast’s perspective, the choice of a 1957 Plymouth Belvedere is interesting. It wasn't the top-tier model that year; the Fury was more iconic. They picked a solid, mid-range family car, maybe to represent the average American. Mechanically, it had a 317 cubic-inch V8. Had it survived intact, it would be a valuable classic today. The real tragedy is the corrosion. Water seeped into every seam. The frame rails are Swiss cheese. The famous Torsion-Aire front suspension is frozen solid. The engine is a solid block of rust. It’s a total loss for restoration. When they dried it out, they had to coat it in clear wax stabilizers just to keep it from crumbling apart. You can see it in Tulsa, but it’s a static sculpture, a ghost of what was.


