Readers can communicate with Indie Auto either by submitting a comment or sending a message to the editor (go here). The other day I received a message from a displeased reader. What follows is his full missive followed by my response:
“The author attacking the designer of the final car model to come from Studebaker is misplaced. The designer of a product cannot overcome management, management closing the US factory and making the car an import, and the design from any hand cannot change the trend of reduced sales because of other corporate issues. Unfair to the designer, any designer, to say they put the final nail in the coffin. Simplistic, and unnecessarily unkind. Hindsight 60 years late does not give you insight, It supplies false energy for an easy insult to those in the past who are not here to defend their actions.”
The reader did not explicitly state which story he did not like, but my guess is that it was “1966-70 Studebaker: Putting lipstick on a pig?” If this is true, then the reader was presumably defending the work of designer Bob Marcks.
What I find most interesting is that the reader does not address the substance of my story, which asked what approach to styling could have best supported Studebaker if the automaker had tried to stay in business after the closure of its South Bend, Indiana plant. Instead, the reader seems to question the very legitimacy of someone critiquing the styling of the 1966 Studebaker and a number of designs proposed for 1967-70 but not put into production.
What kind of car would have been viable in Canada?
The reader starts off by complaining that my focus on styling did not take into adequate account other factors in Studebaker’s death such as “management closing the US factory and making the car an import.”
When reading Indie Auto stories it may be helpful to look at how they are categorized. This one was dubbed a “Design Notes” feature because . . . it focused on design. Even so, I explicitly addressed how the closure of Studebaker’s main factory and the switch to being an import from Canada should influence its styling decisions. Indeed, my main critique of Marcks’ designs was that they did not shift far enough away from a styling-focused, annual-model-change paradigm that would be impossible to maintain at the automaker’s much lower production levels of its Canadian assembly plant.
Also see ‘Might Studebaker have survived if Sherwood Egbert had stayed healthy?’
I suppose it is possible that Marcks’ (2009) 1966 facelift and subsequent proposals gave Studebaker management only what they demanded from him. However, in an article for Dean’s Garage, he criticized Studebaker’s family-car body as “pedestrian” and suggested that the automaker should have come out with a “sedan which was based on the beautiful 1953 coupe.”
In other words, Marcks’ design sensibilities did not appear to tilt toward the more utilitarian approach I suggested that a Canadian-based Studebaker needed in order to be viable. The closest that the reader got to responding to my argument was to suggest that it reflected hindsight “60 years late.” In saying that, he ignores my point that in the mid-1960s the Checker Marathon, Volkswagen Beetle and Jeep Wagoneer were showing the potential for stepping off the styling focused merry-go-round that dominated the U.S. auto industry.
Why wasn’t the 1964 facelift the final nail in the coffin?
The reader goes on to state that it is unfair “to the designer, any designer, to say they put the final nail in the coffin.” Perhaps I am missing something, but I don’t see where I said that about Marcks. Indeed, I ended the story by asking: “Would a focus on practical improvements have led to better 1966 sales? Feel free to place your bets in the comments section. But at the very least, Studebaker’s final products would have been more distinctive.”
Now, I did give another story the provocative headline, “1964 Studebaker: Brooks Stevens hammered final nail in the coffin.” So is the reader questioning my argument in that article? If so, it would help if he would put more facts and logic on the table. Thomas Bonsall reported that when Randolph H. Guthrie became board chairman of the Studebaker Corporation, he quickly concluded that the automotive division had no future “unless the reskinned 1964 line took off” (2000; p. 372). Instead, sales fell even further in the fall of 1963.
Also see ‘Could Studebaker have come out of the 1970s as successful as Jeep?’
Of course, there were a variety of factors at play, such as the introduction of a massive new lineup of intermediate cars from General Motors. However, prior to the unveiling of the 1964 Studebaker family cars, company President Sherwood Egbert insisted that the new design “will be as competitive as any styling on the market today” (Booth, 1963, p. 14). That did not turn out to be true.
So what is so “simplistic” about suggesting that the 1964 facelift was the final nail in Studebaker’s coffin?
Is it ‘unkind’ for automotive history to criticize?
The underlying debate seems to ultimately hinge on the question: What is automotive history for? I am in the same ballpark as Curbside Classic Publisher Paul Niedermeyer (2019), who once stated: “I have zero ambition to be associated with a web site that just fawns over old cars.” Nor do I consider a historical piece very useful if it does little more than string together names and dates. In addition, I don’t see history as thinly disguised public relations, whereby industry leaders — including designers — should only be discussed in the upbeat tones of a retirement party toast.
Substantive history analyzes what really happened. In the case of Studebaker, the most obvious question that demands answering is why did this automaker implode even though in the early post-war years it showed the most promise of the independents? Historians have pointed to a variety of reasons, one of them being questionable styling (go here for reviews of books that discuss Studebaker).
Also see ‘Five (arguably) unresolved mysteries of postwar independent automakers‘
I believe that the greatest value of automotive history is to help us learn from the past about how we can make smarter decisions in the present and future (go here for further discussion). For example, what can we learn from Studebaker’s collapse that could help the automotive leaders of today?
That question may not be as interesting to our reader. If so, he is lucky because the Internet has plenty of other automotive history websites that might better meet his needs (go here for our bibliography of links).
Share your reactions to this post with a comment below or a note to the editor.
RE:SOURCES
- Bonsall, Thomas E.; 2000. More Than They Promised: The Studebaker Story. Stanford University Press, Stanford, CA.
- Booth, Gene; 1963. “Sherwood’s Forest.” Car Life. June issue: pp. 12-15.
- Niedermeyer, Paul; 2019. Commentator in “Ralf K Outtake: An Historical Oddity.” Curbside Classic. Posted Jan. 15, 9:48 p.m.
BROCHURES & PHOTOGRAPHS:
- oldcarbrochures.org: Studebaker (1966)
- Milwaukee Art Museum Brooks Stevens Archives
A reader sent this message:
“I agree with criticism about Stude made towards you. Given what was available/possible, it’s not a bad design, but then opinion is subjective, like most of yours, which you don’t seem to realize…”
Welp, Indie Auto is a journal of opinion (go here for further discussion).
It’s true that car styling is subjective in terms of personal taste. We like what we like. However, we can debate industrial design by bringing to the table more objective parameters such production costs versus sales.
My basic argument is that the 1966 Studebaker redesign and proposals for 1967-70 models were not adequately aligned with the automaker’s much lower production levels. That’s the 800-pound gorilla sitting in the middle of the living room.