Passion is probably the single most important word in the world of automotive design. For the 31 years that I have been involved with this publication I have been witness to a loss of passion in design; a passion usurped by countless outside influences. At times it was something as direct as competition from emerging foreign manufacturers and Detroit’s need to respond in kind. In the early 1970s political mandates on safety and governmental standards that, in effect, dictated basic yet essential design elements to automakers. And then there were profound changes in the world economy, which precipitated widespread changes in consumer demands. How automakers responded to these issues from the mid-1970s and throughout the 1980s, was with engineering driven designs, resulting for the most part, not so much in a lack of passion but rather a reining in of creativity in the name of economic conditions necessitated by the need to meet government mandated fuel economy, safety and emissions standards. The result was shared platforms, simplified sheetmetal, the use of more plastics and synthetics, and moreover sweeping conservatism in the styling studio. The end result was 20 years of mixed messages, an automotive industry trying to stay ahead of consumer demands and foreign competition but always one step behind. It took the better part of the late 20th century to emerge from this pattern, for engineering and styling to become synonymous.
Now, as we near the end of the first decade of the 21st century, automotive design is bold, there is synergy between horsepower and efficiency, and passion, sometimes recklessly abandoned passion, infuses the design studios of the world’s automakers.
While there are few truly relevant parallels in terms of technology, the last 10 years has seen a rebirth of enthusiasm, not only for styling and performance, but for individuality, something that was lost in cars from the mid-1970s, 1980s, and even early 1990s. Today’s choices are so broad, that individual automakers, giants like Ford, General Motors, and Chrysler, have lost the ability to maintain significant market share. Combining this with our nation’s recent economic troubles that market share has fallen even further. Like the 1930s, these are difficult times for automakers on both sides of the world. The difference now is that Detroit will lead through technology rather than stumble over it.
We are witnessing the emergence of new cars from Detroit, with better engineering, more fuel efficient drivelines, and above all, passion in their designs. In many ways we are at that same point in time in which we found ourselves after World War II, on the threshold of a new era. This month in Car Collector we look back 50 years to the end of that first best hope of a new generation of automotive stylists, who put their best efforts forward in 1959, at the dawn of a new decade. It was a flamboyant period in automotive history when passion was perhaps a little too unbridled. We have all been there before. This time the lessons of the past will not be lost on the future. Detroit is like America, it is that sleeping giant, and it has been awakened.
For over 30 years I have seen the word “Classic” abused by everyone from car owners to Coca Cola. It is right up there with “Legendary,” “Historic,” and “Iconic.” We use these words in literature to define people, places, and inanimate objects – usually art, architecture, or antiquities – to add significance to their being. I never truly comprehended the use or misuse of “Classic” until Coke changed its “iconic” soft drink recipe in 1985 with the introduction of New Coke. The outcry was heard around the world and before the year was out we had the rebirth of the original recipe as “Coke Classic” which became more successful than Coke, which is what it was.
I think that lesson in marketing imbued the word “classic” with a big “C” or a little “c” with an almost mythical power. Before Coke Classic we only had classical music, classic literature, cinematic classics (open to interpretation), and classic cars. The latter defined by the CCCA and devoid of anything built after 1948. I only find it necessary to mention this because in this issue I review Mike Mueller’s latest book aptly titled The Complete Book of Classic GM Muscle. How can cars built from 1961 to 1972 share a definition that was bestowed on automobiles that were handcrafted and manufactured both here and abroad long before World War II? Long before most of us reading this magazine were even born?
The answer, I believe, lies in a need to quantify anything that is old enough to become collectible, though how that applies to Coca Cola I’m still not sure…but in terms of old movies, even old television shows, it works because there is one essential ingredient, nostalgia.
When we look back at something from our past, the past of parents, our grandparents, or even their parents, there is an immediate sense of importance attached. It can be as simple as a piece of hand-me-down Depression Glass, or an entire collection, an old Civil War era Colt revolver (here’s a new marketing term, Colt Classic), or just watching an old Humphrey Bogart movie, that brings about a sense of historic value or importance, and we say things like, “those classic Bogart films,” or “those 1955 Thunderbirds were classics.” See, it’s easy. So when Mueller and other writers, collectors, enthusiasts, and auctioneers use the “C” word for automobiles manufactured after 1948 we need to accept it at face value. Classic is relative to the object and the person regarding it. Now I think I’ll pop open a can of Coke Classic and sit back and read a book about classic muscle cars.
We lost one of the great names in both the words of motorsports and car collecting this past August. I knew Phil Hill from the time I started at Car Classics magazine in 1977. When I was automotive editor for the AAA’s Westways Magazine we tested cars together, or rather, he drove and I took notes from the passenger seat, he wrote forewords and introductions to some of my books in later years, and he was a keen advisor when I had a question about automotive history, restoration, (he was co-founder of the legendary Hill and Vaughn restoration shop in Southern California), or racing, something he knew quite a bit about as Bill Warner details elsewhere in this issue of Car Collector.
Phil was more than a gifted racecar driver; he was a gentleman both behind the wheel and in front of the camera. The only US-born driver to win the Formula One championship (driving for Ferrari in 1961), Phil began his career along with so many other racing greats winding though the pines of the Monterey Peninsula’s Del Monte forest in the 1950s. Though he had a remarkable career as a race driver, it was what Phil did afterward that made his name a household word in collector car circles.
His role in my life, however simplistic, was unforgettable. His collaborations with Road & Track’s John Lamm have become recommended reading for sports and racecar enthusiasts, and his knowledge of automotive history and automotive restoration legendary. Hill & Vaughn restorations became the standard against which most other restorations would be judged for years. But his attention to detail in restoring cars began long before Phil Hill and Ken Vaughn established their shop in the 1970s. In 1955 Phil won his first Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance Best of Show with his family’s 1931 Pierce-Arrow. He also finished first in the Del Monte Trophy Race that same weekend driving a Ferrari 750 Monza. A feat that I do not believe has ever been duplicated by a Pebble Beach Best of Show winner.
Phil also had a passion for Packards. He once said that Packards had been in his family for as long a she could recall. “The car in which my mother brought me home from the hospital was my aunt’s 1918 Twin Six Fleetwood Cabriolet,” noted Phil in his Foreword to my book on J.B. Nethercutt’s collection. Over the years Phil (and Hill & Vaughn) was to join J.B. on a very exclusive list of repeat winners at the world’s most prestigious Concours. He also held the record for most years as a judge at Pebble Beach. In 2007 Phil marked his 40th year touring the 18th fairway and passing judgment on the efforts of fellow collectors and restorers. He was as fair handed in that endeavor as in all aspects of his life. Not to say he didn’t have a slight bent for humor at other’s expense. Once when testing a sports car at Sears Point, Phil let our test vehicle slide all the way to the edge of the infamous carousel, and just as I was about to begin wishing I were somewhere else, he glanced over at me, smiled and said, “Isn’t this fun?” and instantly corrected the car which screeched through the turn. Phil wasn’t testing the car, he was testing me. Other times he would become the consummate instructor when I came to Hill & Vaughn to photograph a newly restored car for Car Collector. He could describe the nuances of a coachbuilder’s fenderlines as if inhabited by the spirit of Joseph Figoni, and in the next breath delve into the mechanical design of the steering like an Indy 500 mechanic. Phil was the best of both worlds, a renaissance man who could tune a piano in the morning and take an Hispano-Suiza engine apart in the afternoon.
Phil Hill was one of those special people who leave a lasting impression; one that cannot be easily replaced. Men like him only come along once in a lifetime. Phil’s was a good life.
