I take a small amount of melancholy comfort to hear that Lancia will be discontinued, according to a teleconference given by Sergio Marchionne today. The indignities it was forced to suffer over the past 10 years or more were greater and greater with each passing year of mismanagement. When the final lineup of rebadged Chryslers was unveiled, it was a bridge too far. Lancia will now join the all time great nameplates in the pantheon of disappeared grands marques. It will be where it belongs, in the company of Duesenberg, Packard, Cord, Auburn, Delahaye, and yes even Pontiac. Let's hope maybe someday the name will be revived and stand once again for technological innovation and beautiful Italian design. Until then, let's try to forget its sad decline and remember the halcyon days of Lancia's remarkable racing history and their achingly beautiful road cars of the midcentury years.
As you may have read, Tuesday marked the passing of a giant in the field of automotive design, Sergio Pininfarina, who was 85 years old. While Sergio was not personally responsible for many of the designs that bore his family's now legendary name, it was his tremendous business acumen as much as his artistic sensibilities that saw him not only keep his father's venerable carrozzeria alive after taking its helm in the mid 1960s, but expand it, build upon it, and cement his father's legacy for all time. In the process, he created Pininfarina's R&D center, built a wind tunnel, and using early digital technology brought his company strongly into the computer age while many of his competitors faded into second tier status or disappeared completely. I recently took some photos of a 246 Dino, which was one of the first production cars created under Sergio's directon. I thought this a fitting time to share them with you. Click for high resolution.
This may be the first ever non-automotive post on Automobiliac, but the passing of Steve Jobs is an occasion for much reflection. Although I don't own any Apple products (I may be the only industrial designer on Earth who can claim this), I always had the deepest respect for the creative vision that Steve Jobs wrought, and the way he interwove technical innovation with artistry in the tradition of the great thinkers of the 20th century like Ettore Bugatti, or even Frank Lloyd Wright. To me, he belongs in the same Pantheon of visionary innovators, who realized that beauty is a complete symbiosis between form and function, between performance and aesthetics. And that quality, finish, materiality, and presentation matter just as much as concept, novelty, or profitability. Jobs was not an engineer per se, nor was he a designer, but he had an inherent sympathy for both disclipines, allied with a charismatic and compelling persona and astute business mind. In short, he embodied my ideal of what a well-rounded creative business leader should be--the type of person so sorely missing from the American business landscape of today.
"Innovation" and "design thinking" have become hollow buzzwords bandied about a lot by business types and peddled by B-Schools trying to attract students, but in today's age of process-dictated, profit-obsessed business thinking, it makes me wonder if America will ever again have an individualistic standard-bearer like Steve Jobs to be proud of. In this era of social media and crowd sourcing, creativity is abdicated to the reactionary spasms of the interlinked masses, and wealth is created by the Zuckerbergs of the world, who figure out how to harness and control new platforms of information transfer while creating nothing that is real, lasting, or true themselves. Jobs seemed to be the last businessman to embody the idea that true innovation is special work for special people, to crafted by artists and visionaries and then shared, in promethian manner, with an appreciative audience for the betterment of their lives. With Jobs' passing I wonder if we have witnessed the end of the last great 20th century American innovator.
Frank Lockhart is a name that has faded into relative obscurity, but in the mid 1920s he was one of the finest racing drivers in North America. After winning the Indianapolis 500 on his rookie attempt, in 1926, Lockhart and his Miller racing car went from track to track winning races and breaking records on the great wooden board-paved speedways that were common to the era.
With dashing looks and speed to match, Lockhart was a youthful success: He had just turned 23 when he won Indy. But even more impressive than his bravery and skill behind the wheel was Lockhart's innate engineering ability. He began modifying his Miller racing car to make speed runs in California on dry lakes, achieving new records in 1927. This success attracted the attention of the Stutz automotive company in Indiana, who financially backed Lockhart as he designed and constructed a purpose-built car for an all-out assault on the world land speed record at Daytona Beach in 1928.
Aside from its breathtaking beauty and gorgeous streamlined shape, the Stutz Black Hawk bristled with innovative design features. In an era when Malcom Campbell's Bluebird record cars weighed thousands of pounds and were powered by enormous aero engines of massive displacement, Lockhart's design was a tiny white and silver dart in comparison. Not much larger than a Miller Indy car, the Black Hawk was dwarfed by most contemporary record cars, and featured a compact 16 cylinder engine, which was essentially 2 straight eights mated together. The body and undercarriage were completely faired in, with low frontal area. Suspension and wheels were enclosed in sleek aluminum spats for even greater drag reduction. Because the car was intended only for record runs, the spats remained fixed and did not turn with the wheels, which had only a few degrees of lock. Instead of radiators that would increase drag, cooling was achieved using an internal ice container!
(Click the image above to enlarge)
Lockhart's first runs in the car in February of 1928 were disappointing, but it was soon discovered that overzealous streamlining was robbing the car's engine of air. Modifications were made and the car gained in speed. Unfortunately during a subsequent run, Lockhart hit a nasty bump in the hard-packed beach sand, causing his car to be tossed into the sea with him trapped inside. Thanks to intrepid spectators, the hapless driver's head was kept above the surf until he could be extracted, saving him from drowning. He was otherwise not seriously injured.
The car, however, was seriously damaged and required a rebuild at the Stutz factory. This mishap represents a turning point Lockhart's fortunes. Because of the unexpected cost of rebuilding the car and staging a second record attempt, Lockhart's funds were in serious trouble. He had been using race-proven Firestone tires up to this point, but in order to scrounge up more sponsorship money, he switched to Mason Tires, which was a less reputable brand.
By April, Lockhart was back in Daytona with a freshly rebuilt car running on Mason Tires. At this point in the season, the beach was not in optimal condition, but with his money running out Lockhart knew it was his last chance to break the record. His third run, against a headwind, saw him top 200mph. The record to beat was 207mph. Feeling that victory was within his grasp, Lockhart quickly had the car turned around to make his 4th run, which would hopefully break the record. In his haste to complete the final run before high tide came in upon the beach, Lockhart did only a cursory inspection of his tires, and failed to note that a seashell had damaged one of his tires on the previous run.
So it came to pass that on April 25, 1928, Frank Lockhart made his fateful final run in the Stutz Black Hawk. At approximately 225mph, his damaged tire exploded, causing him to completely lose control of the car. The vehicle overturned multiple times, throwing Lockhart from the car and killing him instantly. Legend has it that Lockhart's lifeless body landed not far from where his wife was watching in horror. He was only 26 years old.
Below is an "accident report" that diagrams the path of the car in its final moments.
I have been fascinated by this tragic story since boyhood, but only this week did I learn that there is actual newsreel footage of the fatal accident. You can see Lockhart's body being ejected as the car makes its final gruesome somersault. A warning: Though the footage is grainy Black and White, sensitive viewers may still find it disturbing.
The automotive world has lost two important figures this past week. Tom Walkinshaw and Chuck Jordan were both men of great achievement, but from very different backgrounds.
Tom Walkinshaw, who passed away at the age of 64, was one of the most successful team manager/owner/constructors in motorsport history, achieving victories in a wide array of formulae, but perhaps most notably with Jaguar's World Sports Car program in the 1980s and with Volvo's BTCC program in the 1990s. He was also involved in F1 for many years at Benetton and other teams. Also a driver of quality, here he is in a simply electrifying qualifying lap at the wheel of a Jag XJS, at Australia's Mount Panorama Circuit!
Chuck Jordan was hired at GM as a stylist under Harley Earl, and eventually worked his way up to that man's position over the course of more than 4 productive decades at General Motors. He was head of GM Styling from 1986-1992.
A true blue car designer of the "old way," Jordan fought GM management for creative control over design, and had famous disdain for focus groups and consumer testing that became the norm at GM: "A good designer doesn’t need Mr. and Mrs. Zilch from Kansas telling him what to do," he once quipped in an interview. Chuck Jordan passed away at the age of 83 last week.
Friday, November 2, 2012 at 7:26PM ;)
Let's hope maybe someday the name will be revived and stand once again for technological innovation and beautiful Italian design. Until then, let's try to forget its sad decline and remember the halcyon days of Lancia's remarkable racing history and their achingly beautiful road cars of the midcentury years.
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