Lamm and Holls’s ‘A Century of Automotive Style’ is epic but uneven

A Century of Automotive Style

(EXPANDED FROM 11/29/2021)

A Century of Automotive Style is a fairly old auto history book, but I would rank it as important enough to deserve an updated edition. This collaboration between Michael Lamm and Dave Holls was first published in 1996, so it would be great to see coverage of more recent events. Along the way, the book would benefit from fixing a few factual glitches and obsolete industry groupthink that detract from an otherwise epic effort.

Lamm and Holls focused on U.S. car design. As one might imagine, the book’s images are the star of the show — photographs and illustrations of production cars as well as concepts and prototypes. Even so, this is not one of those new-fangled, coffee-table books where the text functions as filler around the car porn.

1937 Lincoln Zephyr
Lamm and Holls discussed how the Lincoln Zephyr led Ford to set up a design department separate from engineering — well after General Motors and Chrysler did so (p. 129). Pictured is a 1937 Zephyr (go here for further discussion).

Authors applied journalistic approach to auto history

A Century presents a broad overview of car design at each of the U.S. automakers and coach builders. Along the way the authors provided background on individual designers. That included women, who don’t typically receive much, if any, attention in automotive histories. Nuts-and-bolts issues were also addressed, such as aerodynamics, planned obsolescence and how stamping presses impact styling.

The writing style is journalistic rather than scholarly, so it emphasized detailed description and colorful anecdotes rather than high-powered analysis.

Also see ‘Wheel spinning happens when car buffs and scholarly historians don’t collaborate’

A Century stretches 306 pages. However, it still cannot offer the same level of detail about, say, the Chrysler Corporation as a book solely focused on that automaker.

For example, Lamm and Holls did not shed light on who was most responsible for the 1968 Dodge Charger’s iconic design (go here for our take). Even so, the authors did dig up interesting historical nuggets wherever they explored.

1941 Lincoln Continental front quarter
Lamm and Holls rightly called the Lincoln Continental the “jewel in Edsel Ford’s crown” (p. 133). Go here for our story.

Key moments at design studios are brought to life

A Century sheds light on a high-stakes conflict in 1957 between the head of Chrysler styling, Virgil Exner, and his No. 2 man, William M. Schmidt. This led to Schmidt being forced into a consultant role — but with the marching orders to “create alternatives to Exner’s in-house designs” (p. 169). His proposals went largely unused, but Exner was soon replaced by Elwood Engel.

Lamm and Holls quoted a Chrysler designer about how the managerial styles of Exner and Engel differed: “One likes the other person to do it exactly the way he’d do it himself, and that was Exner. Then you have the other, like Elwood, who can look at a design and support it, and although it might not turn out exactly the way he’d have done it, he recognizes that it’s a good job” (p. 170). This assessment contrasts with that of Exner’s biographer, Peter Grist (2007), but the evidence presented by Lamm and Holls strikes me as more objective.

Also see ‘The downside of auto historians writing about their friends’

The book’s honesty is admirable. Lamm and Holls lauded the design talent of William Mitchell but also critiqued his leadership of General Motors’ design department. They gave examples of how his tenure was marked by an authoritarian and abusive management style that was peppered with sexist and racist language (pp. 172-173).

A Century is also noteworthy for the vivid details it offered about the development of key designs, such as the Studebaker Avanti. For example, Lamm and Holls quoted designer Tom Kellogg as saying that the “sensuality of the car was intensified by our trips to downtown Palm Springs,” a desert resort town which was heavily populated by bikini-clad women (p. 216).

1963 Studebaker Avanti
Lamm and Holls paid particular attention to how a small team led by Raymond Loewy designed the Studebaker Avanti — but sidestepped discussing why the car was a commercial failure. Go here for further discussion (Old Car Advertisements).

Factual details don’t always align with other histories

A book of this breadth will inevitably step into the middle of historical controversies — perhaps inadvertently. Lamm and Holls did so in their overview of early-60s Studebaker styling. They wrote that the famed designer Raymond Loewy recommended that the automaker’s new leader, Sherwood Egbert, reject an in-house design proposed for 1962. The authors didn’t say so explicitly, but the proposal sounds like a redesigned Lark and a shortened junior model.

Also see ‘Accounts of Brooks Stevens’s Studebaker Sceptre and siblings can vary

If that was the case, then the tale that A Century tells does not align with the research of Robert R. Ebert. His parsing of board minutes found that the redesigned Lark had already been nixed for financial reasons before Egbert was hired (2013, p. 85).

Lamm and Holls also appear to have erroneously stated that Duncan McRae was still around when Egbert became president and CEO of the Studebaker-Packard Corporation in February 1961 (see third quote below). According to Ebert, Randy Faurot took over leadership of the automaker’s styling team in July 1959 after McRae went to Ford (2013, p. 85).

1978 AMC Pacer
Lamm and Holls stated that the original idea for the Pacer was sketched on an airline barf bag (p. 204). Others (e.g., Severson, 2008; Gold, 2020) have told a remarkably similar story about the Gremlin (Old Car Brochures).

Did Lamm and Holls influence another book?

A Century’s narrative about why American Motors design chief Ed Anderson left the company in 1961 was initially different than that of historian Patrick Foster. Lamm and Holls wrote that Anderson had strongly disagreed with CEO George Romney’s idea of bringing in a design consultant (p. 202).

In contrast, Foster stated that Anderson’s departure was sparked by top management’s refusal to promote him from a director — where he was under the engineering department’s thumb — to a vice president (1993, p. 73).

Also see ‘Patrick Foster’s 2013 American Motors book has more color, less analysis’

However, in an AMC book published after A Century came out, Foster wrote that although Anderson had told the press that he was fired for asking for a promotion, the “real story” was that “Romney forced him to resign” after Anderson angrily demanded that AMC’s CEO choose between him and some “independent designers” they were meeting with (2013, p. 62).

Might this be an example of how one book influenced another writer to drill down deeper in their own research?

1971 Cadillac Eldorado
I have wondered whether the authors overestimated William Mitchell’s power in overseeing the 1971 redesign of GM’s high-end personal coupes such as the Cadillac Eldorado. Go here for further discussion (Old Car Brochures).

Lamm and Holls could succumb to Detroit groupthink

One might not be surprised that a book offering a fairly sympathetic assessment of the evolution of U.S. car styling would be colored by industry groupthink.

As a case in point, the authors blasted the “tall, boxy, unpopular” 1953-54 Jet as Hudson’s final mistake. “In retrospect, it’s easy to say that Hudson should have spent its money on a modern V-8 rather than this ungainly compact” (p. 194). The Jet was indeed poorly styled, but a V8 may not have been a panacea. American Motors did far better than any other independent in the 1950s by focusing on utilitarian compacts with mostly six-cylinder engines.

Also see ‘Why V8 engines were less important in the 1950s than commonly believed’

A Century also took a hard-line position on the 1953-54 Plymouth and Dodge. The authors blamed these unusually space-efficient cars for what they saw as an epic sales disaster — and then heralded Virgil Exner’s bigger, glitzier and more powerful 1955-56 models for saving the Chrysler Corporation. Their argument is oversimplified and the evidence they presented can be challenged on a number of fronts (go here).

Lamm and Holls were surprisingly ginger about criticizing specific designers or cars. For example, Richard Teague’s tenure at American Motors was lauded for making the most out of limited resources. That was partly true . . . except for three budget-busting and weak-selling designs that went a long way toward killing the automaker: The 1971 Javelin, 1974 Matador coupe and 1976 Pacer (go here for further discussion). A Century missed a good opportunity to discuss the very real danger of an automaker placing too much emphasis on exotic styling.

The 1955 Dodge had lower sales than in 1953 despite Virgil Exner's flamboyant styling
Despite Virgil Exner’s celebrated “Forward Look” styling, in 1955 the Dodge (shown above), DeSoto and Chrysler brand all sold more poorly than in the peak years of the early-50s (go here for further discussion).

This model auto history book deserves an updating

Such quibbling aside, A Century of Automotive Style deserves to be held up as a model for a well-designed and written automotive history book. I say that wistfully — glitz over substance has apparently taken over the book world in much the same fashion as it has in recent automotive design.

Also see ‘Matt DeLorenzo’s book, Dodge: 100 Years, is a highly polished something’

Almost a decade ago I mistakenly ordered a CD of this book rather than a hard-cover edition. At that point the latter was apparently out of print. Since then more copies have been published (Severson, 2015). The CD can be more challenging to navigate but is less costly and takes up less shelf space.

A Century of Automotive Style is an essential part of my automotive library — which is why I wish that this book would be updated.

A Century of Automotive Style

  • Lamm, Michael and Dave Holls; 1996, 1997 (second edition)
  • Lamm-Morada Publishing Co.

“It’s sometimes hard for an observer to decide who should get the actual credit for designing a particular car. Is it the person who dreamed up the original styling concept? Or the sketch artist who made that concept palatable to corporate decision-makers? Or the clay modeler who translated the cheated sketch into some form of reality? Or the studio chief who shepherded the design through a gauntlet of naysaying engineers? Or the executive in overall charge of the entire design operation — the vice president or styling consultant — whose job was on the line throughout this entire process? The answer is simple. Ultimately, full credit has to go to the person in overall charge because, theoretically at least, it’s his judgement that counts. If the design succeeds, he’s a hero. If it fails, he’s out of a job. He’s the person responsible. And that’s the stark, total answer.” (p. 207)

“(William) Mitchell, along with everyone else who shaped sheetmetal, had major problems with the often contradictory mandates of the new laws and requirements. Fuel-economy standards, for example, suggested smaller, lighter cars, while impact and rollover standards required heavier, bulkier pillars and bumpers. These tough times very much tested the stylists’ skills and, in the opinion of many, made men out of boys. George Moon commented that this was the period when stylists became car designers. To compound Mitchell’s misery, he disliked small cars and always had. He’d often stated, ‘Designing a small car is like tailoring a suit for a dwarf.’ But he did exactly that with the 1971 Chevrolet Vega subcompact. Again designed in Hank Haga’s studio, the Vega looked like a miniaturized second-generation Camaro. Actually, the result wasn’t bad. Mitchell and Haga tailored that particular dwarf nicely.” (pp. 184-185)

“Early in Egbert’s presidency, Randy Faurot, a member of Duncan McRae’s staff, unveiled a design presentation for the 1962 Studebaker. Faurot’s full-sized mockups were made of fiberglass, and due to the South Bend summer heat and poor lamination, the fiberglass models had warped and buckled. It was difficult for Egbert to ‘read’ what Faurot had in mind. So Egbert phoned Raymond Loewy and asked him to fly out to South Bend and give his opinion of Faurot’s fiberglass models. Studebaker had already spent $3-$4 million on them and didn’t want to simply abandon them. Loewy came out to South Bend, bringing along John W. Ebstein from his New York office. Loewy and Ebstein looked at Faurot’s warped fiberglass mockups and told Egbert to forget them. Warped or not, they’d never sell.” (p. 214)

OTHER REVIEWS:

Designers and Books | Dean’s Garage | Speed Readers | Amazon


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This review that was originally posted on August 1, 2019 and expanded on Nov. 20, 2020; Nov. 29, 2021; and March 23, 2023.

2 Comments

  1. It needs to be well understood exactly who Dave Holls was. He was a designer at GM that rose up the rank to eventually be #2 to VP of Design Chuck Jordan. Dave had a front row seat of the industry through the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s and into the 90s. Additionally, he was a serious classic car aficionado.

    Credit this book for crediting a lot of individuals that are not so well known. Credit is also deserved for the work identifying the independent body builders.

    I might be inclined to think of this a book best appreciated by designers.

    • I certainly appreciate the book — enough that I would be delighted to see an update. And like any other book this large, it’s going to have some details that could use some fine tuning due to new information.

      One of the biggest challenges of writing history that is significantly based upon oral recollections is that memories can fade, different people can remember the same event very differently, and inevitably individual agendas will color narratives (an interesting example being Bob Nixon’s take on the AMC Pacer). That’s why scholars tend to place an emphasis on digging through written materials to verify oral accounts.

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