Boxing Day

Today is Boxing Day in the United Kingdom and many Commonwealth countries. Nothing to do with prize fights, Boxing Day was the time that the gentry gave gifts to their employees and those of the lower classes. Its name derives from the Christmas box (which might or might not have been something in a real box). As an Anglo-American family we observe Boxing Day, although it is not a legal holiday, but our gift-giving begins on Christmas Day itself.

Here you see my sister Rosemary and me proudly showing our favorite gifts at Christmas 1954. She was enamored with horses, while my tastes had long been attuned to automobiles. I don't recall what happened to the two cars I received that year, but the highlight of that day was the American Automobile Album. More than the title implies, it was a concise history of the automobile in America, from the beginning up to that year. I decided that I had started an automotive library, and read it from cover to cover several times. I still have it.

Each year I asked for, and received, at least one car-related gift. In 1953 it was a set of three model cars, a Studebaker Starliner, Ford Sunliner and Pontiac Catalina. I still have the Pontiac, but the Ford is long gone and I haven't seen the Studebaker around recently. I have a Wen-Mac race car, powered by a model airplane engine and meant to run on a tether, that I received around that time. It never met expectations because we didn't have a smooth-surface driveway to run it on. In 1955, Floyd Clymer published a new book about the Model T Ford, and I put it at the top of my wish list. It's still on my shelf.

One of the most useful books from that time is Motor Service's Automotive Encyclopedia, my favorite gift of 1958. Its forte, then and now, is a table of specifications back to 1931.

We usually stretch our gift-giving out over several days, as long as Twelfth Night in some years, so I can't give you a complete rundown of 2007's treasures. But just in case no one gives me any car books, I've ordered one as a present to myself.

King of Kings

You may have been singing those words this week, but this item is not about the most popular movement in the best-known oratorio of Britain's most famous German composer. It's about one of the least-well known pioneers in the automobile business.

Charles Brady King was born February 2, 1869 on Angel Island in San Francisco Bay. With a fresh engineering degree from Cornell he went to Detroit and took a job with the Russell Car & Foundry Company, a rail car manufacturer. At the 1893 Columbian Exposition in Chicago he became enamored of a self-propelled runabout exhibited by a German named Daimler. Charles B. King decided to build his own car.

In 1895, H.H. Kohlsaat, publisher of the Chicago Times Herald, staged a race for motor cars in his city. King's car was not ready, but King was there, on the Benz entry. When its driver passed out from extreme cold, King took the controls and drove to the finish, losing out only to Duryea. King's own car was complete and running in March of 1896, and, with his helper Oliver Barthel aboard, King made his maiden journey through the streets of what would become Motown. Another pioneer, whose car wasn't running until three months later, followed on a bicycle.

Lacking the resources to make a commercial success of it, King dismantled his car and sold it, and went to sea as a machinist's mate in the Spanish-American War. In 1902 he became chief engineer with the Northern Manufacturing Company, which made the Northern automobile. He left in 1908 to study art and architecture, but by 1910 he was back in the motor industry, and in February 1911 launched the King Motor Car Company in Detroit. Its first product was the King Silent 36, a four-cylinder 35-hp car selling for $1,565. For 1915, a V8 model joined the four, with a smaller engine than Cadillac's but selling for about 60 percent of its price.

American cars had global reach even before World War I. Salmons and Sons, the English coachbuilders, had the British franchise for King by 1913, importing chassis for their own bodywork. A Salmons-bodied King landaulet was rescued from a scrapyard and is currently undergoing restoration of body and engine. Down under in Australia, collector John Ryder is seeking parts for the King V8 he found in the outback.

By 1919, King had adopted a radiator design that mimicked the shape of the car's nameplate. This Model G Foursome belongs to today's King of Kings, Leonard King of Maryland, who has a regal collection of the marque. In addition to the Foursome his cars include a 1913 Model B Roadster, a 1914 Model C Touring, 1916 Model E Touring, 1918 Model F Touring, 1919 Model G Roadster and Touring, and an unrestored 1923 Model L Touring.

The King automobile was out of production by the end of 1923, but Charles Brady King lived on to 1957. Among his many inventions was the spark intensifier, sold even today at fairs and carnivals.

Thanks to UK historian Michael Ware as well as St. Louis Bureau Chief Fred Summers, John Ryder and Leonard King for the photos that illustrate this CarPort.

Ford's Oldsmobile

You're probably thinking "Edsel." But while Ford's "E-car" was an attempt to fill holes in FoMoCo's product line, with models priced both above and below Mercury it was competing instead with Pontiac and Buick, a strategy that with hindsight seems incredibly foolhardy. Rather, it was Mercury itself that was Olds's competition - the two cars had been priced opposite one another from Mercury's birth in 1939. But Mercury had outsold Olds only one year, 1953, and then by fewer than 1,000 cars. For 1959, Ford decided to pull out all the stops and build a better Oldsmobile.

We generally think of the 1959 Mercury as an evolution of the 1957 and 1958 models. With '57's cove accents bulked up to rocket ship proportions, the '59 appeared a bit bizarre. Actually, as the late Ford product planner Richard Stout explained in his book Make 'Em Shout Hooray, the '59 Merc was all new, "From Road to Roof" as the catalog put it. In four series, Monterey, Montclair, Park Lane, and Station Wagons, Mercury sold from $2,832 to $4,206. Wagons were all of pillarless hardtop design, both two- and four-door, a concept dating from '57. Engines came in three sizes, 312, 383 and 430 cubic inches, and four stages of tune, 210, 280, 322 and 345 bhp.

All GM cars were new for '59, a welcome relief from the excesses of 1958. Oldsmobile had three series, Dynamic 88, Super 88 and Ninety-Eight. Wagons, only in four-door "post" configuration, were offered in Dynamic and Super 88 trim. Prices ranged from $2,837 to $4,366. There were but two engines, 371 and 394 cid, and three stages of tune, 270, 300 and 315 bhp. The 1959 GM cars were distinctive with Panoramic windshields and wrap-around rear windows, but Mercury had its own version of these, a windshield reaching up into the roof and a rear light wrapped around to the rear doors. Interestingly, Merc gave this treatment only to sedans, while Olds reserved it for hardtops. Mercury had no counterpart to Olds's Trans-Portable radio or Autronic Eye automatic headlight dimmer, but Merc's parallel wipers cleared a much larger area than the Olds "clap-hands" arrangement.

Despite Oldsmobile's X-braced "cow belly" frame, Mercury had more passenger room, larger door openings and greater luggage capacity. Ford had built a better Mercury, but the public was unconvinced that it was a better Oldsmobile. Ford outsold Chevy in 1959, but that popularity didn't extend to the medium-price segment. When the totals were tallied, it was your father's Oldsmobile, outselling Mercury by better than two to one.

A Good Idea at the Time

...or so it seemed. After World War II, Britain's motor industry faced an edict of "Export or Die!" The island nation needed hard currency, and exporting automobiles was a good way to make a buck. The Austin Motor Company got with the program, and by 1947 was the top-selling import in America. The A40 Devon and Dorset models developed a certain cachet, especially in coastal markets, and the cars were marketed to an upscale clientele (note how the Austin has been stretched in this ad to make it appear larger).

Leonard Lord, head of Austin, felt they could do better with a larger car targeted toward the Yankee crowd. He directed his designers to come up with trendy convertible appealing to American tastes. The result was the A90 Austin Atlantic, using a 2.6-liter version of their ohv four-cylinder engine, few with twin carburetors for 90 bhp. A streamlined body followed Italian cues, and a bright interior featured column shifting of the four-speed gearbox. The winged "A" was Austin's emblem, and the Atlantic proudly displayed two of them on the front fenders. A large boot included an indoor fuel filler, probably verboten today.

In order to create some buzz in the colonies, Austin PR director Alan Hess staged a week-long campaign at Indianapolis Motor Speedway in April 1949, setting 63 endurance and speed records, albeit in categories no one had thought to contest before. However, what the Brits thought Americans would like was not what they bought. Selling at $2,995, the Atlantic was overpriced, and even a 1950 reduction of $500 merely brought it in range with the Buick Super, arguably much more car.

Sales literature was revamped for the U.S. market, putting left-hand drive cars in place of RHD home market illustrations, but some US-specific pieces showed whitewall tires, all but unknown in the UK. A "Sports Sedan," basically the convertible with a fixed hard top, was introduced in 1951, but by that time the Atlantic's trans-Atlantic market was all but abandoned, although the Devon's successor A40 Somerset continued to sell in decent numbers. Of 7,981 Atlantics produced, only about 350 were sold in the intended market. The effort was not a total loss. The Atlantic's engine soon found a home in a car the Yanks liked better: The Austin-Healey 100-4.

Although Austin Devons were commonplace in Connecticut when I was growing up, I never, ever saw an Atlantic, despite there being a dealer not 60 miles away. The car headlining this piece was sold a couple of years ago by Hyman Ltd. Classic Cars in St. Louis. They don't currently have one in stock, but Mark Hyman, whom we thank for providing photos, is partial to unusual cars, so check their website periodically. Otherwise, you'll have to make do with the only Atlantic most Americans saw: the Dinky Toy version.