(EXPANDED FROM 10/1/2024)
The 1941 Studebaker Commander is noteworthy partly because of its lovely art deco styling, but also because it represents close to the last of the automaker’s big premium-priced cars.
In 1939 Studebaker had come out with the Champion, which undercut the Big Three’s low-priced cars in size. The Champion proved to be exactly that — and the opposite of the automaker’s previous efforts to break into the low-priced field with the ill-fated Erskine and Rockne.
For example, in 1941 — the last year of full production before the onset of World War II — Champion output almost reached 85,000 units, overshadowing the mid-level Commander (almost 42,000 units) and top-of-line President (almost 7,000 units).
The Champion had immediately made Studebaker the top-selling independent brand for the first time since 1932.
Champion not just a decontented big Studebaker
In a way it’s unfortunate that the Champion overshadowed the senior Studebakers because in 1941 they arguably represented a pre-war stylistic high point for the automaker. We will talk more about that in a minute, but first let’s delve into the the details of Studebaker’s temporarily biforcated lineup.
The Champion wasn’t just a decontented version of the full-sized Studebaker body — it was substantially smaller and lighter than the rest of the lineup. Length was 190.5 inches, which was 15 inches shorter than a Commander and front-and-rear tread was around two inches narrower. That translated into a weight of only 2,480 pounds for a base Champion four-door sedan, which was 730 pounds less than the equivalent Commander.
The President was a fancier Commander with the wheelbase extended ahead of the cowl 5.5 inches and a 250-cubic-inch straight eight instead of a 226-cubic-inch six.
Commander prices hovered around $1,000 to $1,100 whereas the President went for $1,140 to $1,260. The pair of nameplates were roughly comparable in price to Nash’s top-end Ambassador Six and Eight, Hudson’s Commodore Six and Eight and Packard’s entry-level 110 six.
1941 redesign was a high point for Raymond Loewy
The big Studebaker body was restyled for 1941 by Raymond Loewy’s design firm. The new look stood out because of its art deco details, such as the biplane front bumper and side sweepspear. Our featured cars, a Commander two-door sedan coupe and a six-window sedan, have two-tone paint (called “Delux-Tone”), although it is less obvious in the sedan.
Note how the coupe has optional fog lamps and a front-fender chrome strip while the sedan is equipped with optional “winguards” on the edges of the biplane front bumpers.
Take a look at the delicate curvature of the waterfall twin grilles. And the complexity of that front bumper, replete with five sets of thin red stripes.
The sweepspear gets gradually thinner as it moves to the back of the car, giving the impression of forward motion. Meanwhile, the door handles have vertical ribbing that is in sync with the car’s waterfall grille.
When the big Studebaker was redesigned in 1941 it lost running boards and gained opening side air vents. The latter feature continued to be used on postwar models.
Commander’s rear carries over aeronautical influences
Much like the Commander’s front, the rear is V-shaped, with downward-pointing striped bumper guards that evoke an airplane’s tail. The vertical shape of the taillights are echoed in a center chrome piece that stretches up the trunk lid.
Loewy’s design details are exquisite, such as the delicately shaped taillights.
Of course, the coupe’s greenhouse ends farther forward than on the sedan, giving it more of a semi-fastback shape.
Perhaps the most controversial design element is the rounded bulge around the rear wheels. I go back and forth on whether it works, but if nothing else it was refreshingly unique at a time when rear fenders tended to be blandly similar. Do you think it looks better with or without fender skirts?
A stylish four-window sedan was also offered
The six-window sedan shown here was arguably not the most interesting body style. Both the Commander and President also fielded a four-window sedan that J. P. Cavanaugh (2019a) described as a “sleeker version of a Cadillac Sixty Special or a more formal rendition of the Packard Clipper.” That was very good company to be in.
The 1941 big Studebaker lineup could be confusing. This is partly because in March of that year the automaker added “Skyway” editions of both the Commander and President series (auto editors of Consumer Guide, 2002).
These new top-of-line models ditched the two-tone sweepspear and added fender skirts. “It is probably no coincidence that most of these changes echoed focal points of the stylish Lincoln Continental,” Cavanaugh (2019a) wrote, adding that Loewy was a fan of the Continental.
That would prove to be a prelude to facelifted 1942 models. To my eyes they were more generic and ponderous. A chunky new grille had a decidedly anycar look, the deletion of the sweepspears made side styling rather plain, and the bumpers were turned into battering rams.
Not the ideal end for the big Studebaker, but we could ignore the 1942 models because of the abbreviated production run.
Was it smart for Studebaker to abandon big cars?
1939-41 Champion sales were so strong compared to its Studebaker’s big cars that After World War II the automaker moved its entire lineup to a more compact platform. Prices still straddled the low-priced and premium-priced fields, but the Studebaker tended to be shorter, narrower and lighter than the competition. It also no longer offered a straight eight.
In the short run this would prove to be a good financial move. Up through 1953 Studebaker production mostly surpassed other independent automakers, sometimes by significant margins (go here for further discussion).
Cavanaugh (2019b) wondered whether that strategy was a “slow motion trap of costs (too) high to compete with inexpensive cars and not enough prestige or size to sell in higher-price segments.”
His point is reasonable. In theory, an independent automaker that focused on the premium-priced, full-sized class could at least partially make up for its relatively low volume with higher profits.
The wild card here is that competition would become positively brutal in the premium-priced field in the 1950s. None of the independent automakers could afford to keep up with the Big Three’s rapid-fire advancements, such as V8 engines, four-door hardtops and lower-slung bodies.
Then sales collapsed during the Eisenhower recession of the late-50s. Even Chrysler struggled to maintain its standing in this field (go here for further discussion).
Studebaker got out of big cars before it was too late
Geeber (2019) offered a counterpoint to Cavanaugh that is closer to my way of thinking. “The only way for an independent to survive was by taking the Nash route – offer something that buyers couldn’t get at a Big Three dealership, and market it appropriately (i.e., the first Rambler was a small car, but not a cheap car).”
I would offer the friendly amendment that Nash under George Mason treated smaller cars as auxiliary to the big Statesman and Ambassador models. That strategy would not have fared very well once premium-priced sales tanked in the late-50s. Fortunately, Mason’s successor George Romney ditched big cars to concentrate on a line of compact Ramblers. That saved the company.
Studebaker would temporarily stay in the automobile business by following a somewhat similar, if more belated, trajectory as American Motors. Bigger cars were discontinued in favor of a compact Lark in 1959.
This is why I look at the 1941 Commander with wistful ambivalence. The styling was memorable, so I find it too bad that the big Studebaker’s time in the sun ended so quickly. But if nothing else, this car went out on a higher note than its postwar family compact cars.
NOTES:
This story was originally posted on Dec. 1, 2019 and expanded on April 16, 2021; Oct. 1, 2024 and Feb. 26, 2026. Production figures and specifications are from the auto editors of Consumer Guide (2006), Classic Car Database (2024), Flory (2009), Gunnell (2002) and (Wikipedia (2022).
Share your reactions to this post with a comment below or a note to the editor.
RE:SOURCES
- Auto editors of Consumer Guide; 2002. Cars of the Fascinating ’40s: A Decade of Challenges and Changes. Publications International, Lincolnwood, IL
- ——; 2006. Encyclopedia of American Cars. Publications International; Lincolnwood, Ill.
- Cavanaugh, J. P.; 2019. “Curbside Classic: 1941 Studebaker President Skyway Cruising Sedan – The Ex President.” Posted April 23.
- ——; 2019. Commentator in “Curbside Classic: 1941 Studebaker President Skyway Cruising Sedan – The Ex President.” Posted 10:04 a.m., April 28.
- Classic Car Database; 2024. “Search for Specifications.” Accessed Oct. 1.
- Flory, J. “Kelly” Jr.; 2009. American Cars, 1946-1959: Every Model, Year by Year. McFarland & Co.
- Geeber; 2019. Commentator in “Curbside Classic: 1941 Studebaker President Skyway Cruising Sedan – The Ex President.” Posted 11:53 a.m., December 30.
- Gunnell, John; 2002. Standard Catalog of American Cars, 1946-1975. Revised 4th Ed. Krause Publications, Iola, WI.
- Kimes, Beverly Rae and Henry Austin Clark, Jr.; 1996. Standard Catalog of American cars 1805-1942. Third Ed. Krause Publications, Iola, WA.
- Wikipedia; 2022. “U.S. Automobile Production Figures.” Page last modified Jan. 26 (no longer online).
ADVERTISING & BROCHURES
- oldcarbrochures.org: Studebaker (1941, 1942)
- oldcaradvertising.com: Studebaker (1941)
I had never realized just how distinct these big prewar Studes were. It seems that since the Classic era and the early thirties bankrupcy, Studebaker had been retreating downmarket step by step. The early fifties Land Cruisers seemed a big car, I’d never realized they were ‘just’ a stretched smaller one, not in line with the big thirties Studes. Likewise the ’57; a chance viewing of one driving past didn’t make the narrowness apparent. The Lark was sort of the Champion concept revived, once again with no big brother. Eventually they ran out of market to retreat to.
I’ve never seen one of these Commanders in the metal. Those rear fenders do look odd, sort of reminiscent of early thirties Hupmobile front fenders which followed the wheel more closely than was the norm. An odd look for the time.
I wonder, could they have fitted the eight into the Champion body postwar? MInd you, lack of an eight didn’t seem to bother them for ’50, and they were working on the V8 for ’51, so I guess it didn’t matter.
Seems like Studebaker back then was trying to do two or three steps on the Sloan ladder under one brand. Granted, Studebaker tried companion makes twice and flopped.
To fully appreciate what Studebaker lost after the Albert Russel Erskine management debacle of the not cutting back on production in 1929-1930, followed by the disastrous declaration of a cash dividend of $ 7.8-million in 1930 (5x 1930 profits !) and a 1931 cash dividend of $ 3.5-million, evaporating available working capital, plus the failure of the Erskine and Rockne models, a tour of the Studebaker National Museum in South Bend, I believe, is a must for anyone who really cares about the failure of the brand. The magnificent cars of the mid-1930s: The near-classic straight-eights (that raced at Indianapolis) are truly desirable cars. Even the smaller cars spun off the Champion and the Commander before World War II were well-engineered cars. Perhaps if Studebaker had not been first by far with a post-war car in 1947, they might have developed a different strategy for survival.
Was there anything Studebaker could have done differently from the mid-1920s with the Erskine as well as other models preceding the Champion or V8? And would a best case scenario have improved its prospects in a later merger with Packard or would another partner have instead been more suitable in place of Packard?
It strikes me as telling that the only independent automaker that was successful (at least for a time) in establishing a lower-priced companion brand was Hudson with its Essex/Terraplane. Everybody else was more successful when they added an entry-level nameplate (e.g., the Nash 600 and Studebaker Champion).
I suspect that Studebaker’s most consequential mistakes were made in the early-postwar period (go here for further discussion). Given the automaker’s sorry state as of 1954, I don’t think any of the other independents would have benefitted from a merger unless Studebaker’s passenger-car operations were quickly shut down (go here).
My father owned a 1940 Studebaker in the early fifties ! They were not only economical , but easy to work on , unlike today’s automobiles !
The ’41 and ’42 Commanders are well regarded for their styling (the ’41s seem more elegant) AND mechanical reliability. There are a reasonable number still existing and they are DRIVEN.
l know of a couple from Pennsylvania who, when retired, drove theirs many miles and many states over the the country – and Canada. Besides having the second modern proving ground in the industry,and first with steel-backed main bearings, by 1937, Studebaker engine durability requirements were 50 hours at 4000 rpm and 50 hours at 4500 rpm, full throttle and full load!
What caught my eye in chart is not only the Champion bailing Studebaker out, but Willys’ ride to oblivion. By 1941 the Champion was outselling the Americar 4 to one. With the Champion coupe costing only $20 more than the Americar coupe, it has a six inch longer wheelbase a six cylinder engine instead of a four, and some Studebaker cachet. Now I know why Willys was leery of getting back into the car market post-war.I know this wasn’t the point of the article, but I learned a lot. Those Studes were gorgeous. They seemed to manage the 40s streamlining yet still keep 30s elegance.
It could be that part of why the Champion did so much better than the Willys was because it offered “more car for the money.” However, by the late-30s Studebaker was arguably in better shape as an automaker, e.g., sales suggest that it had the larger dealer network and stronger brand reputation. In addition, I would argue that Willys did itself no favors with a series of decidedly quirky facelifts and a revolving door of name changes. Might the car have done better with more normal styling and more consistent product positioning?
One other factor worth considering is that during the war there was a boom in industry discussions about the prospects for a “light” car. Brooks Stevens was even hired by Willys to come up with a design proposal after he made a presentation on the subject (go here). It just so happened that his proposals placed more emphasis on stylishness than efficient packaging that would allow a full lineup similar to the pre-war Willys.
Given all this, I suspect that Willys might have benefitted by bringing back its pre-war lineup with some minor changes and trying to squeeze out at least two or three years of production. That could have helped to solidify a market for a redesigned small car with postwar styling.
In other words, my guess is that Willys might have had a better chance of success with a compact if it had been the first automaker to get into that field after the war. Instead, the Aero came out after the Rambler and the Henry J.
It’s kind of hard to tell from the ads that use paintings but it seems to me that the immediate post-war Champion looked bigger than it was. For some reason the Willys Aero looks smaller than it was even sharing the same wheelbase.
Now I’m not too sure on this but I understand that steel rationing continued through 1946 with allocations based on 1941 sales. With Willys’ abysmal 1941 sales management perhaps decided it wasn’t worth it.
The Aero was mostly smaller than a 1947 Champion, e.g., 108-inch wheelbase instead of 112, and 181 inches long versus 193. That translated into a somewhat lighter car: 2,467 pounds versus 2,600 for a base two-door model.
I don’t know if steel rationing was a problem; some historians say that finding a body maker was the big issue. I wonder if that would have been the case if the existing body had initially been carried over with only modest changes rather than immediately trying to launch something all new.