The 1955 Thunderbird is commonly seen as Ford’s answer to the 1953 Corvette. Although that’s true, inasmuch as the revived and ambitious Ford Motor Company felt it too had to have a two-seater sports car. The sports car boom was peaking and had caught the public’s imagination, attention and dollars. But the Thunderbird’s real inspiration—even if it was subconscious—was not the typical hard-riding British sports car of the time, but the svelte 1940-1941 Lincoln Continental, a cut-down, mid-priced, superbly-styled Lincoln Zephyr that was the car to be seen in while cruising the sunny boulevards of California and Florida. It was the first “personal car” before that name was coined for the ’55 Thunderbird.
The Thunderbird took the concept, added the “personal car” label, and ran with it. But the question as to whether it was a sports car or not was not so easily settled; folks didn’t exactly think “personal car” when they saw a T-Bird roll by with its top down.
The Ford Motor Company’s revival in the early-mid fifties under a young and ambitious Henry Ford II was daunting. How could a company so run down take on the juggernaut GM? It took a cadre of seasoned executives, some poached from GM, as well as the “Whiz Kids” to come up with the answers.
There were two main thrusts: 1.) go up against GM’s five divisions mano-a-mano, which resulted in the creation of Edsel and the push upwards by Mercury and 2.) identify and exploit market niches that GM had no presence in.
That second one was based on a previous niche Ford had successfully exploited with the 1940 Continental, the pioneer of the mid-priced “personal car”, or personal luxury car (PLC) as it later came to be known. That segment eventually came to dominate the sales charts in the 1970s. But rather than build a true successor to the Continental, Ford bifurcated the concept, going both up and down: the ultra-expensive 1956 Continental MkII and the much more affordable 1955 Thunderbird.
The Mark II turned out to be a a huge money pit, which effectively killed the ambitious Continental Division. Meanwhile the Thunderbird was of course a hit, and established a long-running vaunted name. For what it’s worth, the Thunderbird was closer to the original Continental in concept and price than the MkII.
And of course in 1958 the Thunderbird became a four-seater, thus fully embracing the original Continental’s format, not that many passengers actually ever found their way into the back seats of either of them. These cars weren’t bought for that purpose; they were bought by childless folks or for a well-enough daddy that could also buy a Country squire for mom and the kids.
A bit of pricing history to help put this in context:
The 1940 Continental cost $2916 ($62k, adjusted)
The 1956 Continental MK II cost $9695 ($107k adjusted)
The 1955 Thunderbird, typically equipped with automatic, radio, PS, PB and a few other options, went for about $4000 ($45k), or about 33% more than a well-equipped Ford Fairlane.
Note: Straight inflation adjustments become less accurate going back further in time, but another way of looking at it was that the 1940 Continental cost one-half of a typical (senior) Lincoln K-Series and other serious luxury cars. It was roughly in the middle of the greater span of car pricing at the time. As was the 1955 Thunderbird, a car that the increasingly prosperous middle class could genuinely aspire to own.
It was Ford Product Planner Chase Morsey that came up with the “personal car” moniker, as a way to position the Thunderbird as not-a-sports-car despite technically meeting the established definition of the genre as well as being commonly referred to as one, generally by those that didn’t know better. Yes, the Corvette may have given Ford the incentive to build the Thunderbird, but the ‘Bird was not likely to chase a ‘Vette down a curvy road or on the track.
The Thunderbird, with its heavy steel body, soft suspension and not-exactly ambitious Y-block 292 V8 was destined to be a boulevard cruiser; a car to be seen in and for the pleasure of driving serenely. Yet Ford’s own advertisements reflected this dichotomy; they didn’t want it to be judged as a sports car, yet they were content to call it one.
Whether the original Corvette was a genuine sports car was also a point of contention for some. The hard-core British roadster-driving cult looked down their noses at it. Road and Track’s review was titled “Is It Really A Sports Car?” (the verdict was “yes”, but that it was not yet suitable for sports car racing). But whatever performance and handling edge that the ’53-’54 Corvette lacked, it soon got it with the V8 in 1955 and some chassis tuning in 1956.
The 1955 Thunderbird hit the mark, with over 16,000 sold. In the process, it nearly killed the Corvette, whose sales plunged from 3640 in 1954 to a mere 700 in 1955. That was due to the T-Bird as well as the fact that there were still a lot of unsold ’54 Corvettes gathering dust. The Thunderbird’s proper side windows, optionally power-actuated (the ’53-’55 Corvette had “side curtains” that had to be installed), a wider and roomier cockpit, standard V8, available power steering and brakes and other amenities made for a vastly more appealing package for those looking to be seen driving a sports car but not having to make any of the compromises.
GM was not going to give up; they doubled down and turned the Corvette into a genuine world-class sports car, adding proper side windows and a better cockpit in 1956 along with the performance upgrades. It never sold in the numbers that the Thunderbird did, but that wasn’t the point. It was a halo car, and a very successful one, whether sitting in someone’s driveway or on the track.
Although the Thunderbird sold quite well for a two seater, racking up 16k sales again in 1956 and 21k in ’57, it’s dubious whether it ever made a profit. The two-seater concept was seen to be too limiting for a personal car, and the ’58 got the definitive four passenger packaging. But the “Little Bird” served as an effective halo car and an image builder for Ford at a crucial time when its stock was going public for the first time ever. And unlike the albatross Mark II, the Thunderbird certainly wasn’t a money loser or required a whole new division to build and support it.
One could argue that the Thunderbird should have been a Mercury or even a Lincoln, but Ford absolutely made the right call here, unlike with their several expensive mistakes at the time. The Ford brand was of course the company’s bread and butter, and Ford was in a huge competition for the sales leadership in the low-price segment. The Thunderbird’s sheen was spread very effectively all over the Ford brand. If that came at the expense of Mercury or Edsel, so be it. There was no question as to the name on the buildings or of the CEO.
Under the hood scoop sat the 292 cubic inch Y-block V8, rated at 193 hp with manual transmissions (three speed; three-speed w/overdrive) and 198 hp with the Ford-O-Matic; a three speed automatic but not a very agile one. In a Road&Track test, the sprint to 60 took a rather leisurely 11 seconds, exactly the same as the oft-maligned 150 hp six cylinder Powerglide-equipped ’53-’54 Corvette. Oops.
Yes, it was a bit faster with the manual, but the great majority were equipped with the Ford-O-Matic.
One does wonder if Ford’s decision to position the Thunderbird as a personal car and not a sports car was in part due to the realization that their new (in 1954) Y-Block V8 was decidedly not “sporty”. Its tortuous ports, small valves and general cylinder head architecture resulted in modest power output (and potential) as well as a relatively poor power-to-weight ratio due to its heavy block.
This realty was of course driven home in an overwhelming way when Chevrolet’s brilliant new V8 appeared in 1955, almost the polar opposite of the Y-Block, in terms of dynamic qualities, size and weight. With the injection of the new 195 hp 265 cubic inch V8, the 1955 Corvette’s performance was instantly vaulted to world class standards. Even when teamed with the Powerglide, its 0-60 time of 8.3 seconds was superb for the time. How was it that a 195 hp Corvette with the two-speed Powerglide was almost three seconds quicker to 60 than a 198 hp Thunderbird with a three-speed automatic? The T-Bird did weigh some 300 lbs more, but that doesn’t nearly account for the large difference.
The explanation? Noted automotive tech journalist Roger Huntington analyzed the acceleration of numerous cars at the time with an accelerometer (“PerfomOMeter”), resulting in remarkably accurate calculations of actual installed (net) hp and torque, and he quickly became convinced that Chevrolet’s advertised hp and torque numbers were consistently lower compared to other brand’s numbers. So much for inflated advertised hp numbers.
Of course that 195 hp 265 was just the beginning of the Corvette’s rapid climb in performance; with 225, then 240 hp versions in 1956 as well as the suspension and brake improvements it quickly became the car to beat at SCCA sports car races, drag strips and other venues.
Some of you will likely point out that the Thunderbird’s V8 also got some massaging in 1956, and especially in 1957, when in desperation to keep up with the new fuel injected 283 Chevy, Ford strapped a McCulloch supercharger to a small number of 312 V8s, resulting in ratings of 300 (automatic) and 340 hp (manual). These were fast, but NASCAR quickly banned them, and all of 212 Thunderbirds with the blower were built. The tricky variable-speed drive mechanism on these belt-driven superchargers developed a serious rep for having a short lifespan.
In a somewhat curious effort to look competitive, even though by 1957 Ford knew the two-door ‘Bird’s days were numbered, they contracted with DePaolo Engineering to build four “Battlebirds”; highly modified with some experimental factory parts including a stroker kit to create 348 cubic inches, and of course the superchargers. They had a few impressive outings, but the exercise rather missed the whole point: the Corvette was being snapped up by private owners because it was so competitive to start with, and it took only some relatively minor (and cheap) over-the-counter parts to make it more competitive on the tracks.
By 1957, the Thunderbird’s image and reputation as a softly-sprung, modest-to-mediocre handling two-seater “personal car” was very deeply entrenched, and nothing was going to change that. Why even bother to try? In order to justify the checkered flags on its hood? Ford had created a new niche, and although it wasn’t perhaps as sexy as having the fastest production sports car in the world, it was certainly effective in its original mission: a sexy personal car.
Perfect for what this owner did on a splendid Oregon summer evening 68 years later: tooling along with the top down, enjoying the wafting air as it created an eddy behind the wraparound windshield.
As well as savoring the mellow burble of the twin exhausts. The Y-Block has a rep for its exhaust sound, as did its predecessor, the Ford flathead V8. That’s the result of both of them having the same 1-5-4-8-6-3-7-2 firing order, unlike most modern ohv V8s. The exhausts piping out back is a bit affected, but then so was the early Corvette’s, although its pipes were a bit better integrated into its body.
A key part of the Thunderbird program was to use as many parts a feasible from the passenger cars. The instrument pod is one of those. Less visible are the passenger car underpinnings, which consisted of a shortened frame with the front and rear suspension essentially intact.
On the left of the main pod is a tachometer, not exactly very visible. But it really wasn’t relevant, as the Y-Block disdained higher rpm; that would explain why it only went up to 5000 rpm. The 292 V8’s advertised gross power peak was 4,400 rpm; as installed (net) it was undoubtedly no more than 4,000. A Chevy V8 was just getting warmed up at that speed.
The Ford-O-Matic was an early and slow shifter. One could extend the shift point somewhat by starting in Low, but then one had to shift to Drive to allow second to engage, and then one had to quickly shift back to Low to keep restrain the shift into third. Futzing around with the shifter that way might shave a second or so off its 0-60 time. Why bother?
Keeping one’s foot mashed on the throttle would eventually yield a top speed of some 110 mph. As to handling, no one would accuse the two-seater Thunderbird of being an agile flyer. It wasn’t called the Seagull for a reason. The mythical Thunderbird was a large and heavy beast, and like its automotive namesake, did not take to changing directions abruptly with zeal or finesse.
The suspension settings were passenger-car oriented, resulting in a pleasant ride but it was too soft in corners. The issue only got worse in ’56 when the spare became a continental spare, adding a lot of weight at its extreme end, causing the rear end to mush out even worse in brisk curves. Once again, it was mission appropriate.
Unlike the Corvette, the Thunderbird’s stylistic family resemblance to the Ford passenger cars was both practical as well as reinforcing its place in life. The taillights are shared, and it makes the Thunderbird look like what it essentially is: a cut-down sporty Ford. In the mid-fifties, customizing passenger cars to turn them into sporty cars or such was a widespread hobby; with the T-Bird, Ford did all the hard work for you. And for a pretty reasonable price, a 31% premium over a new Fairlane convertible.
Frankly, those jet engine exhaust extensions do look like they might have come from a customizer’s shop or the J.C Whitney catalog.
That rather goes for the jet intakes in the front too. It would have looked cleaner without them, on both ends.
The noted author and historian Griff Borgeson, then a main writer at Sports Car Illustrated, acknowledged that the debate as to whether the Thunderbird was a sports car or not was moot: the T-Bird had created a new market niche, and a quite successful one at that (the continuation of that article is unfortunately not available).
The addition of the continental spare hanging on the back bumper of the ’56 only reinforced that the Thunderbird’s heart was not in the curves, as that worsened its handling.
The styling refresh put the spare back in the trunk, which was elongated; too much so, for my sense of proportions. As is so commonly the case, the original (1955) was the best of the bunch, stylistically.
By the time I arrived as a kid in the US in 1960, the two-seater Thunderbird was already a modern classic. It had created an intensely loyal following; its owners just didn’t take to the four-door and bemoaned the loss of the original. In 1963, a black ’55 with the hardtop showed up next door to us in Iowa City, owned by a top gymnast at the university. He was young and utterly infatuated with the Thunderbird legend. And taking me for a short spin made me see why, although I have to admit that when we passed the Corvette sitting in a neighbor’s driveway two blocks away, a skip of my heart confirmed where my true allegiance lay.
Note: I have not delved into the complicated and somewhat contentious origins of the Thunderbird and its styling. Ateupwithmotor has an excellent deep dive into those issues.
Here’s some other related CC reading:
Automotive History: The Short Life And Personal Times Of The 1955-1957 Thunderbird
Vintage SCI Review: 1957 Thunderbird – Do We Detect a Wee Bit of Corvette Envy?
Curbside Classic: 1957 Ford Thunderbird – The Most Perfectly Styled American Car Of The 1950s?
Curbside Classic: 1940-41 Lincoln Continental – A Creation of a Man of Taste and a Man of Talent
Curbside Classic: 1956 Continental Mark II – Caught In The Pincers
Great write up on a car that I looked at a lot during its first few model years.
I never saw that Corvette V2 ad before; it’s interesting because the V2 was a regular WWII horror sent to explode in London and other Allied European capitals by Nazi Germany.
In 1955/56, the V2 death machines were only 10 to 12 years in the past.
In comparison, the 911 attacks were 22 years ago, and yet for many New Yorkers, 911 still feels like a fresh memory. (I guess you had to be there.)
One more ad note: Who wants to ride in a “Guided Missile” as the ad implies? They may take off quickly, but they almost always end up in a million pieces.
To my 12 year old eyes, the 55/56 T-Bird was a regular Ford 2 door hardtop that had been squashed down by a giant hand. I loved it.
There were no thoughts of racing or tracking or even going fast. It just seemed like a nice way to maybe, someday, when I got my license, and a girl said yes to a date, that I could pick her up in a cool 2-seater T-Bird and go for a drive by the ocean.
A few years later when I did get a license, my dream car had evolved to anything that ran, be it a cool car or otherwise. Usually otherwise.
The V2 connection caught my eye as well. Strange. They could have just gone with a generic “rocket” reference, but I guess that wouldn’t have worked for the V8 connection they were after.
Good American Graffiti reference too. That was probably where those early Thunderbirds first came across my radar.
As I said in another comment, the V2 was adopted by the US (along with its creator) and it became America’s only real genuine rocket at the time. This was of course at the peak of the “Rocket Age”. The V2 has been Americanized.
I went to school with Werner’s son, whose nickname was “Von Bomb.” Adolescent boys are not nice.
I believe Oldsmobile had already commandeered the Rocket nickname.
I’m only looking at this through the lens of history, but I think enemy technology wasn’t considered something to be shunned but instead captured and utilized, both the allies and axis adopted each others technologies during the war, one of the prime examples is the German designed Jerry can, which allies embraced as superior technology to the clunky cans they had started the war with. Axis powers embraced the Jeep
A brilliant article, as always.
Thanks Paul . This is quite comprehensive and accurate in all respects.
This car and the decade later Mustang were so influential on my then young car nut mind that I have been (unreasonably at times) a relentless Ford buyer. These two cars earned for Ford my business for decades to come.
I believe the genesis for FMC interest in and production of this T-Bird rests with Bob Gregorie, Edsel Ford and of course Henry Ford II. The original Continental was the result of Edsel’s desire for a “continental” style car and stylist Gregorie had similar interests. The later created that car; the former saw that it was produced. Edsel had many unique and tasteful custom built for him Ford cars and Gregorie participated in many if not most.
This family tradition continued with Henry II; he too had an ever changing fleet of specially built for him Fords.
The two needed something quite special to drive between Dearborn and Grosse Pointe. This family heritage led to the unique cars and I think also to this first T-Bird. So thanks to those three.
Paul, you *always* getting me thinking in new ways about familiar-ish territory, and this was and especially enjoyable “read.” I’ve long sought to recapture how American life “felt” when these cars emerged–we’d just been born, and my father had just begun his long Ford career.
(For anyone who didn’t know, the ad with the three ’55 T-birds has that brightwork spear that was evidently pulled from production fairly late.)
BTW, this recent essay had images new to me, and talks of efforts to get more family resemblance between ’58 full-size Ford and the new 4-seat T-Bird: https://www.deansgarage.com/the-1958-ford-an-indirect-casualty-of-the-edsel/
Thanks much!
That V2 ad is simply unbelievable, linking a new american car to a WW2 enemy weapon. Unbelievable.
As an explanation for the strange Corvette/V2 ad, it could have been some marketing maven’s subtle way of saying the Corvette was the equal of (or better than) German roadster sports cars of the time, namely the Porsche 356 and Mercedes 300 SL, without specifically naming them.
A bit of a stretch, to be sure, but what other reason could there be to cite the Nazi’s ‘wonder weapon’ in a Corvette ad barely more than a decade after the end of WW2?
At the time, the V2 was America’s top rocket, for better or for worse. And of course 1955 was peak rocket era; they were everywhere. That’s what it’s glorifying, not the Nazi weapon.
Not in the “1950’s”. Even up to the late “60’s”, plenty a folks would have been drawn to the ad.
As a fan of Mafia II, I immediately got a ton of high speed chase flashbacks when I saw those taillights.
The game’s fictional counterpart of the T-Bird, the Smith Thunderbolt, is a coupe with a fixed roof, but its other specifications are similar to the 1955 Ford. It has a 194 HP engine, just 1 HP more than the 292-equipped Thunderbird, and its curb weight is the same down to the pound – 2981 lbs.
As for the driving, the developers seem to have got it right – in corners it feels heavier and more wallowy than the ’54 Corvette-inspired Shubert Frigate, but more composed than the Smith Custom 200, a copyright-friendly ’57 Ford Custom 300.
Maybe we should do some in-game classic posts?
Good game, also apropos there’s a 40s Lincoln Continental(I forget the copywrite friendly name) and it handled like a car from a totally different era. For a game that’s primarily about the highs and lows of mob life its vehicle physics were better than most racing games I ever played.
I’d forgotten the V-2—like Werner von Braun himself—was “ours” and being used by the the U.S. in space/weaponry/whatever development (article below is early 1951). I see someone has already parsed the Corvette/ColdWar/V2 thing: https://www.winterthur.org/corvettes-and-the-cold-war/
White Sands, NM:
Yes, as part of “Operation Paperclip”. A strange choice for an ad.
I personally regard the 55 Thunderbird and only the 55 as a sports car, the packaging and checkered flag emblems tell the tale, whether it was marketed in print as such or not. What I believe is it awkwardly arrived right at the moment the Corvette became truly capable and the marketers had to focus on its other strengths that made it the “personal car”. Those strengths btw, all eventually made it into Corvettes like roll up windows.
Many of its “weaknesses” compared to the Corvette weren’t all that weak though, yes it used underpinnings from the passenger car line – so did the Corvette. Difference was the Tbird’s were based on a much more modern passenger car chassis with ball joint suspension, which if tuned for performance potentially had an advantage. Corvettes had the weight advantage of the fiberglass body over the Tbird’s steel body, but Chevrolet’s motive for using fiberglass over steel was cost and expedience, not power to weight ratio, that’s a happy accident, and most sports cars of the era were made of steel. The Tbird and Corvette were both large for sports cars with their cut down passenger car chassis, so had the Corvette and the Tbird’s fates with body material been reversed I wonder if the roles may have reversed. The Chevy small block was really the ace in the hole that sealed the Corvette’s status as a bonafide sports car, if it never graduated past the stovebolt 6 it was conceived with I think the longtime question of its sports car legitimacy would largely be on level ground with the Tbird(and fwiw I do consider the 53-54s true sports cars, just far from the best).
Also, leaving the rear fender skirts off like on this 55 really transforms the look of Thunderbirds, I cant help but think those were a last minute addition at the behest of the marketing department that concocted the personal car label. There’s undeniable intent in the design
The suspension settings (soft) on the Thunderbird were of course deliberately set to underpin its “personal car” image, with a soft ride. As to a front suspension being inherently better due to ball joints, that’s not really true, as geometry and tuning play a critical role in high speed handling. Plenty of European cars had kingpins; you think the Mercedes 300SL or Ferraris, or Porsches or any of the British or Italian sports/ cars/sports racers/racing cars had ball joints? Not.
The C1 did just fine with its king pins, although detractors can never stop pointing this red herring out.
Obviously there was a critical point in the Thunderbird’s development where it was decided it was going to be a “soft” tourer, and not a genuine sports car. The question is whether that was because they realized that with its weight and dull engine, it was not going to be competitive, or whether it was truly a brilliant marketing decision to increase its appeal and sales but making it a “personal car’.
I’m guessing the two went hand-in-hand.
Like I said, potentially. The Chevy front suspension didn’t have ideal geometry from the getgo for a sports car application, in fact the “chassis tuning” the 56s got was literally tilting the entire assembly on wedge shaped shims between it and the frame to increase caster and put it in a more desirable range.
My main point was that the development points of the Tbird and Corvette were basically the same – both were cut down versions of passenger cars with carried over suspensions and components and some other odds and ends. Using passenger car line stuff compromised both cars equally, the things that compromised the Thunderbird more was the heavier steel constructed body, it’s unique asset, and the lazy Y block which was its only inherited passenger car shortcoming
What a lovely find, and great writeup. I will confess that I am partial to the 57 version, but I have a great fondness for all three years of this car.
I am also fascinated by the “sports car” label this car got early on. I still believe that people (both inside of and outside of Ford) called it a sports car because they didn’t know what else to call it. Two-seat cars were sports cars in the early to mid 1950’s. We all try to cram new things into the paradigms we already know, so the 55 Thunderbird became a “sports car” by virtue of its small size and two seats. Nobody had any idea what it really was – and nobody had any idea of what a “personal car” was, or was supposed to be. If the “personal car” somehow derived from the “sports car”, the 55 Thunderbird was the one that really got that trend line going.
You mention Chase Morsey as the man responsible for guiding the development of the T-Bird away from being a sports car to being a personal luxury car. This is detailed in his book which I assume you’ve read, “The Man Who Saved The V8”. How he “saved the V8” may provide an explanation as to the development of the Y-block used in the T-Bird.
Henry Ford II offered to pay twice the salary to select GM employees that came to work for him. So FoMoCo in addition to Tex Thorton’s “Whiz Kids” was full of former GM men. What was the result of this? These guys tried to turn Ford into another Chevrolet. Since Chevrolet never had anything but a 6 and outsold Ford, these guys decided that the new 52MY Ford would only need to have a 6. The new OHV 6 introduced for the 52MY along with the OHV Lincoln Y-block was designed by Earle McPherson, one of the GM engineers that moved to Ford. Chase Morsey claims to be the man responsible for “saving the V8” by lobbying to keep the flathead V8 because in his mind Ford and the flathead were synonymous. Not having a V8 would be a disaster to Ford’s image. So for the ’52 and ’53 model years, the flathead continued to be available. For the 54MY, Ford introduced a new OHV V8 which was basically a scaled down Lincoln Y-block. In other words, it was a rushed job.
Pontiac introduced their OHV V8 for the 55MY. The stud mounted rocker arms that are so often touted in talking about the Chevy V8 introduced the same year were developed by Pontiac. The SAE technical paper Chevy published about their new V8 acknowledges that the stud mounted rocker arms came from Pontiac.
Regarding the Mark II, the idea for it came from Ernest Breech another GM employee hired away from GM. Clay Ford was completing his rotation through FoMoCo and Breech needed to find something for him to do. Breech called Clay Ford into his office and told him that as Executive Vice President of Ford he received numerous letters asking him to build a new Continental. He tasked Clay Ford with this job. It was clearly understood at the time that the Continental would be a “halo” car and that it was not expected to be profitable.
Morsey claims he sneaked into the Continental design studio and was quite taken with the roof and had it adapted for the ’55 T-Bird. When the T-Bird was introduced a year before the Continental and Clay Ford saw his roof on it, Morsey claims he was quite upset.
It has been said that GM was ready to dump the Corvette because it was a flop in the market but because of the sales success of the T-Bird continued building it so as not to be seen as Ford winning and GM losing.
As to the sports car side of the Corvette compared to the T-Bird this is indeed moot. Ford would respond a few years later when a race car driver from Texas has the idea of putting a V8 in a British roadster and was turned down by GM because we have the Corvette. He will go to Ford and Lee Iacocca will give him a bunch of a small light weight V8 developed for the new Fairlane and tell him to go away.
GM’s Corvette would be blown away on the race track like a V2 landed on it.
I’m familiar with the book and reviewed it here:
https://www.curbsideclassic.com/blog/book-blog/book-review-the-man-who-saved-the-v8-sort-of/
Whereas I lmostly accept the story about him convincing the execs to retain the flathead V8 for ’52 and ’53, I’m considerably more skeptical about the origins of the Y Block. Sources say that it was originally intended to be introduced in 1953, but because of Korean War nickel shortages, that was delayed until 1954. That means the Y Block was in development by 1951 or so, well before Chevy began serious development of their V8. And there’s not doubt that Mercury would have needed an ohv V8 anyway. And Ford and Mercury had been sharing engines since forever.
My point is that I strongly suspect that Ford was only planning to not offer the flahead V8 for 1952, and introduce the Y Block V8 in ’53, or ’54 at the latest. The Y block was inevitable, for Mercury at the least. Hence it likely was planned all along that Ford would get it too in a couple of years.
I prefer to think of Morsey being the man who gave the V8 a reprieve, for a year or two, but not as the man who “saved the V8”. It was inevitable.
The fact that Pontiac’s engineers developed the stud rockers is very old history, and extremely well known.
As to the Cobra, by the time it arrived, sports car racing was becoming increasingly sophisticated and more professional. That was not the case in the mid ’50s, when one could make a daily driver be competitive on the track too.
The cobra may have bruised a few egos, but it certainly didn’t dull the Corvette’s luster as well as its sales. And if ZAD hadn’t been so hamstrung by GM’s no-racing edict, history might well have turned out somewhat different.
Paul, I’ve always heard about that “nickel shortage” thing, but only just now started trying to find automotive-specific mention of it in the day’s newspapers. Below is a nice one from September 1950…..I’d forgotten that there was the chrome-plating aspect, and not just high-strength steels. Interesting that Ford and some aircraft manufacturing get mentioned.
FWIW, in Ford’s “New V8” paper of January 1954, they begin the writeup with:
“in 1948 our company decide to convert its engine plant facilities to accommodate modern transfer equipment and more complete automation. Our L-head V-8 engine was performing satisfactorily on fuels available at that time, and there was every reason to believe that it would continue to do so well beyond the time when the new tooling became available. However, since costly major tooling expenditures require a minimum of eight years for amortization, it was decided that a new engine would best meet the requirements of future improvements in fuel and higher compression ratios. Consequently, the engineering staff was asked to design a new engine that would meet these requirements as well as those of the vehicle planned for release in 1954,” etc.
The article never mentions nickel (as an ingredient, or the restrictions) at all, but that’s another matter.
Anyway, here’s the September 1950 article (I can see I should have asked my father, the Ford metallurgist, about this!):
Paul, I’ve often wondered about the development of the Y-block V8. There must be a reason why it turned out with such a poor head design, heavy block and low power peak. Surely Ford as a company had the engineering nous to do better.
Love that white “Corvette”! Wonder if the “Ford”, in the garage ((the “6am Thunderbird, ad)) is a station wagon?
Excellent assessment of the two-passenger Thunderbird. The only point that I will contend is the assertion the 1940’s Lincoln Continental was a “mid-priced personal car”. While it was based on the mid-priced Lincoln-Zephyr platform, it was among the active redefinition of the upper-priced luxury segment occurring in those immediate pre-war years. With the 1939 model end of the Lincoln K and Packard Twelve, the $4K-$8K segment was affectively vacated except for the final 61 1940 Cadillac Sixteens.
Cadillac led the redefinition of the popular-priced, owner-driven luxury car with its 1936 Series 60, evolving into the 61 and ultimately dominant Series 62. abetted by the trendsetting 60 Special in the $1,700-$2,200K segment. The upper medium-priced segment concurrently had adjusted its position back to the ~$1,200-$1,500 range lead by Buick and Chrysler.
What was left for 1940-1942 in the ~$2,300-$4,000 segment was lwb Cadillac Series 67 and 75 with Fleetwood variants, the Lincoln Continental Cabriolet and Coupe, plus lwb 1941-’42 Customs, lwb Chrysler Crown Imperials and Packard’s Super Eight 180 accompanied by a handful of Rollson, LeBaron and Darrin custom coachbuilts.
The Lincoln Continental did establish the concept that high-styled, special models beyond the ordinary transportation configuration had a niche constituent. And that such cars could be tangent off regular production models The Lincoln Continental was the definition of that idea contrasted to the Lincoln Model K. The two-passenger Thunderbird and Corvette initially revived concept for an increasingly affluent society. The influence of those sporting two-passenger imports jump-started the idea again. It was corporate and production realities that lead to its four-passenger configuration returning to a massively receptive public response. GM alone could afford their halo two-passenger sports car, awaiting the prosperity to rise that would support their broader participation in the segment.
Agreed; it wasn’t really “mid-priced”, except technically against those obsolete high end K-Series and such.
But as you said, it did pioneer a new concept essentially, in establishing exclusivity without an exorbitant price tag. The idea that price alone guaranteed prestige and exclusivity was crumbling.
The Continental Mark II is best viewed as a Ford family vanity project that became an ego-driven spiral to one-up their competitor GM and Cadillac.
So right about those ‘jet intakes’ in the front and ‘jet’ exhausts in the rear. I recently built a 1-25th scale model of this car in the colors pictured, and removed the intakes. The results are a much cleaner looking car. As for the T Bird being the first ‘personal luxury ‘car, an argument can be made for the Cord 810 Sportsman and Phaeton convertible coupes being the first ,even though that term was still waiting to be coined some 17 years later.
Chevy’s Corvette morphed into a genuine sports car with handling and performance to match the label,
Ford’s Thunderbird morphed into a fat 2 door sedan with handling to match, the last good looking Thunderbird was the model before the bumper turd appeared
In Bob Colacello’s (quite good) book on the Reagans (Ronnie and Nancy: Their Path to the White House 1911-1980) he writes of their aspirational lifestyle in Pacific Palisades in the 1950’s, including their relationships with friends such as Dick Powell and June Allyson and their crowd. “They [Powell and Allyson] still had the same tight circle of friends – half showbiz, half big business – including the George Murphys, the Justin Darts, and the Edgar Bergens. And they were still square-dancing on Saturday nights. But they had their hip moments: when Ford introduced the Thunderbird in 1955, June and her girlfriends all got convertibles. Hers was pink, Punky Dart’s yellow, and Frances Bergen’s lavender.”
I find that reference Illustrative of the market in SoCal (where most of these cars were sold) for the Thunderbird when it was introduced. Not the top tier of Hollywood or Los Angeles but the more suburban, moneyed class below them for whom the Ford Thunderbird was perfect for running into Beverly Hills for lunch or to the golf course. Was it a sports car? No. It was a little hip, a bit sporty, country club classy yet unpretentious, still a Ford but chic.
The white one from American Graffiti isn’t bad, but by the 80s, too many of these were in lurid pastel paint that looked a half inch thick.
The exhaust extensions are intended to prevent rust and soot on the bumper.
The Squarebird ad car has a continental kit. Was that optional after ’56?
Apparently it was:
http://automotivemileposts.com/tbird1959optionalequipment.html
Great article and photos, Paul; the story of the early Thunderbirds always makes a fascinating read. I’ve seen that “6 am Thunderbird time” ad before — it’s quite inspired.
The absence of fender skirts on the lovely red example you found makes it look spunky and rarin’ to go, to use a little 50s lingo.
Here’s a black one I caught back in 2007 with what I believe are actual wire wheels:
The original two seat Thunderbird was a fashion accessory that you drove. The whole point was to be seen in it. If you look at the picture of Suzanne Somers in the white ‘56 above (for the youngsters, she’s the hot blond peeking out from behind the the porthole roof Pillar), she illustrates it best. The car was chosen for her ride in “American Graffiti” for a reason. They could have put her in a Frazer. It just wouldn’t have had the same effect.
Or as the Beach Boys put it:
“And she’ll have fun fun fun
‘Til her daddy takes the T-bird away.”
For what it’s worth, Canadian astronaut Rick Hadfield drives a 1955 Thunderbird and is a big fan.
I think the Mark II predisposed a lot of people to think about swanky personal cars, but the Lincoln was far too expensive to achieve much market success. Just like the Mustang that would follow, the Thunderbird had the allure as well as the accessibility. It wasn’t an inexpensive car, but it was something that the middle class buyer could afford. It wasn’t a stripped down sports job, it was as comfortable and as well equipped as any premium American car. A similar ad to the theme of Thunderbird time, was the one that referred to the T Bird as a “mink for Father.” It quickly became the consumers dream car, and when it gained a back seat any argument that it was too impractical was rendered moot. I know that I’ve said this countless times, but the T Bird developed a deep mystique that it held on to for decades. It really became, “The car that everybody would love to own!”
About that V2 reference, which was really in poor taste. It’s as if Datsun would have announced that the New Z was powerful, like an atom bomb! I may have the name wrong, but didn’t Werner Van Braun, the main scientist that developed the V2, come to the US and go to work on our space program? Do you think that there were attempts to whitewash his past work for the Germans in WWII?
I hate to say it but, up until the final 2002-05 ‘RetroBird’, Ford mostly played it right with the Thunderbird, at least as far as it goes for their bottom line. R&D had to be a fraction of the Corvette, yet sales were almost always solid (particularly the early years). Then there was the brougham
Malaise era cars when the Thunderbird really came into its own.
The irony of the final RetroBird is how much it harkened back to the original ’55-’57 two-seater. Unfortunately for Ford, the market just wasn’t there anymore. Dealers were able to gouge a few geezers early-on who remembered the first car but, after that, the market knew there wasn’t a lot going for it (certainly not at what dealers were charging), other than maybe a good-looking car to cruise around in on nice days.
The problem with the retro bird was there was the plausible question and decades old debate for the 55-57s – “are they sports cars?”. No such question has ever been asked about the 02-05, sports cars after 50 years were so far removed from what they were in the originals heyday it was an instant disconnect. The 02-05s were no more sporty than the MN12 generation it replaced.
I mostly agree, though not so that it came to its own in the brougham era. I think a strong case could be made that the 58-66s were the definitive Thunderbirds, the cars that best represented the name and simultaneously had a broad appeal. 77-79s boasted the biggest sales numbers, but that shouldn’t be the measure of coming into its own, the sales success of those those cars were riding the inertia of the glamorous thunderbirds of yore at a cut rate price.
The May 1955 issue of Motor Trend in its “Driving around with Walt Woron” compared the performance of the 162hp stock Chevy V8 with Powerglide in a 2dr Bel Air to one with the 182hp powerpack. Zero to 60 times were 12.3 to 11.4 seconds respectively. The 0-60 time for a T-Bird with a 292 and Ford-O-Matic was 11.2 seconds. With both T-Bird and Bel Air weighing approximately 3300 lbs, it can be said with some certainty that the 292 was as powerful as the 265 with the powerpack.
However, the most important number comparison in the battle between the ’55 Corvette and T-Bird was the number of each produced, 700 and 16,155 respectively.
I always thought it was interesting that frequent commenter and auto historian, Ate Up With Motor, considered the original 2-seat T-Bird to be the spiritual predecessor to the Mercedes-Benz W113 230/250/280 SL of the 1960s. On his own site he wrote that both were “a sporty-looking “personal car” that emphasized dignity and comfort over outright performance.” He also noted, though, that the Benz cost a lot more than a 2-seat T-Bird.
One of those rare cars that looks great, either with or without fender skirts.
Regarding the use of the V2, sensitivities in the post-war years did seem quickly to fade. According the UK’s Jaguar Enthusiasts’ Club: “In 1945, SS Cars changed their branding company-wide to Jaguar Cars Ltd. It is widely accepted now that this move was taken in response to the fact that “SS” had become an unsavory phrase associated with Nazi Germany.” Maybe that’s an urban myth but by 1957 Jaguar was content to call the street-legal D-Type derivation the XKSS and earlier, references to the A-Bomb had been an integral part of the promotional effort for the original bikini.
Paul, it’s fun to re-read this at year’s end…..I’d forgotten that this was the Comment thread that took the long V2-detour.
I still owe CC a writeup about Ford and the Y-block V8, and pledge to finish that over the winter.
Me, still never sat in a 55-56-57 Thunderbird, and would want to “try before I buy,” but these still hold that same appeal to me that they have for sixty years. Especially given the constraints of sharing components with the full-size Ford, I still find these to be an appealing design which, yes, I’d love to be seen in while boulevard-cruising.
Apologies if this is a repeat:
The Battlebird survived and made it to the UK. Here’s a short clip of it racing at Goodwood, complete with incredulous British commentary…
The “mid 50’s ad” showing the variety of “Ford Merc” cars is a hoot. Lots of fishing gear and no one dressed to go fishing.
The bright yellow, “Lincoln” really looks “stodgy” in the gathering. The colors seem to be “outdoing” the other cars. ((or attempting too))