MIDVALE — He's a little bit James Dean, a little bit Fred Sanford.
He looks like he's straight out of "Easy Rider," and in fact he has portrayed a few bikers in the movies.
His business card reads "CAESAR BOSWELL," followed in parenthesis by "RULER."
His longtime Midvale business of nearly 26 years isn't known just as a custom Harley-Davidson bike "shop." No, it's an "Empire," as in Caesar's Motorcycle Empire & Museum, 7922 S. State.
"I don't want all the customers in Utah, I just want my share of loyal customers," says the spry, middle-aged body builder and personal trainer. "But once somebody comes in here and they see it, they say it's great. I don't lose very many customers."
Even his feisty boxer dog, Caesar, is named after you-know-who.
And at this time of year, Boswell dresses up like another legendary icon, Santa Claus, and delivers presents to deserving youngsters. He zooms in on one of his custom-built or restored motorcycles — or his "C-Cab," a yellow, three-wheeled motorcycle with a sand dragster engine and a chopper front fork — and spreads holiday cheer.
"I try to make every day count," he says.
When it's not Christmas, he rides in parades or wherever the open road takes him — often with his macaw named Danala perched on the handlebars, even at 75 mph.
"The faster I go, the higher she puts her tail up," Boswell says. "She's as comfortable as she can be."
He travels to Europe and elsewhere in the world to search for unusual items — like bathroom faucet handles, glass and brass doorknobs, antique soap dishes and old headlights and hood ornaments — which he then incorporates into the design of his custom-built cycles.
He is known as one of the best custom motorcycle builders and restorers in the business.
"People know about Caesar all around the country. All around the world, for that matter," says Duke Doleto, a longtime friend and occasional employee who is currently tapping Boswell's expertise for a "creative reconstruction" of his motorcycle.
"Caesar is a great guy to travel with and be around — a great and interesting character" and the only man to see, Doleto says, "if you want a real custom machine."
Boswell collects anything and everything — as long as it's metal, has wheels, involves Marilyn Monroe or in any way captures his interest. His shop and museum are a tribute to the history of transportation and offer a healthy slice of 20th century Americana.
He has survived two near-fatal biking accidents, including one that caused brain injuries that led to surgery.
He bills himself and his business as "Utah's oldest cycle dealer," but he's certainly young at heart.
And someday, Boswell may follow in the footsteps of another bodybuilder, the one who now lives in the California governor's mansion. (That would be Arnold Schwarzenegger, for those out of the loop.) Caesar Boswell — the eclectic, eccentric but hopelessly charismatic jester of Utah's business community — is considering a career in politics with a run for Midvale City Council in 2007.
"I think I'm not being fair if I don't do it, because I'm very capable. Not to pat myself on the back, but it's pretty obvious because of how I'm treated everywhere," he says. "I can go into any crowd — a crowd of county sheriffs and highway patrols or mayors or bikers — and talk and carry on a conversation half intelligently.
"I think, far too often in city councils or any politics, it's one type of person. Politics needs an Arnold Schwarzenegger, they need Jesse (Ventura) and Clint Eastwood. I think they need Caesar. . . . They need some blue-collar guys because we're the other half of the population. So, I find it my responsibility" to run for office.
Jody King, Boswell's parts manager, would gladly manage the campaign. She came to work for Boswell four years ago, leaving her job at a bank, because "I wanted something different in my life."
And Boswell, certainly by Utah standards, is different.
"He's definitely unique," says King, who first had to chuckle when asked to describe her boss. "And he's never been married, so the only responsibility he has is his store and his night life. He's an ever-present bachelor."
And perfectly suited for politics, King maintains.
"He's a good businessman. He goes to city council meetings. He wants to be aware of what's going on," she says. "He's a people person. He's a real down-to-earth guy who's in touch with what people want in his town because he's lived here so long."
Boswell's own chunk of earth is uniquely situated in the middle of the Salt Lake Valley, equidistant between the Salt Lake LDS Temple and the prison at the Point of the Mountain — or, as he puts it, "halfway between heaven and hell."
His property, which accommodates not only his business but his home, is much like Boswell's personality — multi-dimensional and peppered with curious elements.
Like the towering tree trunk that rests upside down, cemented beside his house like a toothpick discarded from a skyward bean-stalk palace. In truth, it is just a portion of an old, dead tree that had to be removed when Boswell bought the place. But in the world he has created here, it has an entirely different legacy.
"People say, 'What is that?' " Boswell says of the old trunk. "I tell them it's a root from Lake Bonneville."
And he does so with a straight face.
"And they go, 'Well, so, what, was that the shoreline?" he says, pointing to the discolored portion that was once in the ground. "And I go, 'Yeah.' '
The outer wall of his garage is covered with old license plates. His indoor-outdoor "museum" includes old wheelbarrows, tricycles, kiddie cars, a sign-carrying statue of Atlas (who has become known as Hercules), a 1957 Pink Cadillac, an "Entering Wyoming" sign (which, perhaps fittingly, leads to nowhere), and many other items people have found and brought to him because they know, if anyone will appreciate something odd, something old, something used or something forgotten, it's Caesar Boswell.
He has boxes of rodeo clown shoes and wears them regularly.
To Boswell, nothing ever outlives its usefulness, including the spirit of Christmas.
Twenty years ago, he began making annual appearances as Santa at local hospitals and homes. Considering he had a red motorcycle with a red sidecar at the time, it seemed like a natural. After a decade of impersonating the jolly elf each holiday season, Boswell has made fewer house calls as Claus in recent years. But this year, once again, the spirit has moved him.
"I deliver to people who've been good," he says of his holiday plans. "And we know who's been good, who's been naughty and nice."
The twinkle in his eye leads you to believe he just might.
"Caesar's greetings, everybody," says the motorcycle Santa.
When he's not performing that good deed, Boswell enjoys watching others perform. He has a genuine passion for the Broadway Musical "Annie," and goes to see it whenever and wherever he can. He even named his other dog "Annie."
"I've seen 'Annie' in London and in Holland, Milwaukee, New Orleans, San Diego, Seattle, Salt Lake City — Capitol Theatre and University of Utah — different junior highs and high schools," he says.
"I like that a lot. I think it's really good. And you know, more than the story of Annie, it's a story of the depression in 1933. It's really as much about the bad economy as it is about an orphanage."
Perhaps it's that reminder of tough times that inspires Boswell to work so hard, and makes him so appreciative of the full and yet relatively unencumbered life he leads.
"If I'd had a real job, I'd be retired — but that wouldn't be me," says Boswell. He sees himself running his business well into his 70s and probably beyond. "That's why I don't want to quit, because I realize I'm doing what half the world dreams of — chasing girls and riding Harleys."
E-mail: zman@desnews.com