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During Detroit’s heyday, some cars couldn’t finish the race
America was car crazy in the 1950s. That’s when NASCAR started, hot rods and drag racing went mainstream, and cruisin’ the streets was the preferred teen weekend activity.
American roads started to crisscross the country in 1955 thanks to the Interstate Highway System. With those roads came the birth of roadside conveniences, such as Holiday Inn motor inns and Howard Johnson restaurants, drive-in and drive-thru fast food restaurants, drive-in movie theatres, shopping malls and car washes. Thanks to the automobile, one third of the country’s population lived in the suburbs by the end of the 1950s.
The U.S. auto industry, centered in Detroit, Michigan, was then the largest in the world, supporting one in six American jobs. More than eight million cars were manufactured in 1950 alone, and more than sixty-seven million automobiles were registered in the U.S. by 1958. The “Big Three” — Chrysler, Ford and General Motors — dominated the marketplace, producing a dazzling array of car models, each a distinctive brand. But sometimes, American automakers came up with a dud — such as these five failures of the ’50s.
The Chevrolet Corvette is often considered America’s first sports car, but it wasn’t. That distinction goes to the Crosley Hotshot, a car you may never heard of. The Hotshot was a post-war sports car produced by a small automotive manufacturer, Crosley Motors of Cincinnati, Ohio, that specialized in building tiny, efficient cars since 1939. The initial Hotshot model was unique: It had two seats, no doors, no trunk lid (storage was accessed by folding down the seats), a low profile, all-wheel disc brakes, weighed around 1,000 pounds, and was priced at less than $1,000. Despite its size and economy, the Hotshot had impressive performance for its class and, when configured for racing, won its share of races. But it was destined to fail; once the larger Detroit automakers discovered that the sports car market was profitable, they started producing cars to compete with the Hotshot. After selling less than 2,500 of the diminutive cars, Crosley ended production in 1952. The Hotshot may have been the first American sports car, but it was short-lived.
The Metropolitan was produced by Nash Motors, a division of the American company Nash-Kelvinator, and British automaker Austin Motors; Nash developed the Metropolitan while Austin manufactured it. The novel collaboration was an effort by Nash to “Americanize” small, sub-compact import cars by adding a touch of luxury, and the Metropolitan was one of the first cars designed to appeal to women. The Metropolitan was marketed in the United States under three different auto brands, Nash, Hudson, and American Motors — because Nash and Hudson merged in 1954 to form American Motors Corporation. It was also sold in Europe under the Austin label and eventually its own brand name. The Metropolitan failed to sell on both continents: In the United States, Nash misread the market, as consumers were more interested in larger cars. In Europe, the Metropolitan gained a reputation for inferior performance and handling. The car routinely makes the list of “worst card ever made.” Remarkably, the Metropolitan lasted until 1962, when it was mercifully put out of its misery.
September 4, 1957 — “E Day” — a day that will live in automotive infamy. That’s the day the 1958 Ford Edsel was introduced to the American public amid great fanfare. It was one of the most extensively researched and most expensive car introductions. Ford even started a separate Edsel division in the hope that the new car would warrant its own production and sales operations. The Edsel, named after Edsel B. Ford, son of the company founder, was intended to compete with the Dodge and DeSoto models from Chrysler and the Buick, Oldsmobile and Pontiac brands from General Motors. According to Ford, the Edsel would be “the smart car for the younger executive or professional family on its way up.” Unfortunately, also on the way up at the time was the growing popularity of compacts, combined with the waning interest in medium-priced cars. The massive publicity about the “car of the future” backfired: The Edsel was ridiculed instead of embraced for its less than attractive looks, particularly the garish grille, and the too-high price tag. Sales tanked. The Edsel remains one of the great brand disasters of the 20th Century.
When it came to the 1959 Cadillac, beauty was in the eye of the beholder. This extraordinary-looking car had the most absurdly large tailfins imaginable. Cadillac pioneered tailfins eleven years earlier; supposedly, General Motors came up with the idea of tailfins after examining the rear stabilizers on a Lockheed airplane. By 1958, tailfins were a macho means of competition among automobile manufacturers, and Chrysler was said to be winning the fin war. Cadillac’s designers didn’t want that to happen. The tailfins on the 1959 Cadillac may have been inspired by jet aircraft, but they were even more exaggerated due to a GM mass production mandate: The designers were required to use the same front door as a Buick. Since the door tapered to the rear, those outrageous fins, setting off twin bullet taillamps, were built up even higher. Hideous tailfins aside, the ’59 Cadillac did have some redeeming qualities: The interior space was enormous, the wraparound windshield and side windows provided excellent visibility, and an automatic transmission, power steering and power brakes were all standard. Still, the 1959 Cadillac is deserving of its reputation as a symbol of 1950s car kitsch.
Studebaker built American cars as early as 1902. In 1933, the company went bankrupt, but it was rescued with the 1939 introduction of the popular Studebaker Champion. By the mid 1950s, Studebaker was in trouble again. Known as “Studebaker-Packard” at that time, the company took a bold step to save itself: It abandoned full-size cars and in 1959 produced one of the earliest compact cars in America, the Studebaker Lark. Remarkably roomy — it could accommodate six passengers and luggage — the Lark was notably smaller and less ornate than the extravagant cars being manufactured by the Big Three. In the first two years, the Lark sold well; in fact, car dealers were willing to carry the Lark because Chrysler, Ford and General Motors did not offer compacts. The only real competition for the Lark came from the upstart American Motors Corporation (AMC) with its Rambler brand. By 1961, when the Big Three started to produce competing compacts, sales of the Lark plummeted as dealers dropped Studebaker in favor of a sure bet with the big guys. The Lark disappeared in 1964, and Studebaker permanently went out of business in 1966.
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