Curbside Classic: 1956 Willys Wagon – Jolly Colors Of The 1950s

Colors, or lack of them in recent times, is a rather recurring topic in vintage automotive circles. When did we as a group become so cautious and averse to eyegrabbing joyful displays? A worry about resale values? An obsession with presenting a tough-active image for all to see? A wish to be cast as a member of a dystopian show, ready for a Mad Max future?

Whatever the case may be, if you miss joyful colors, here may be an antidote for such needs: A 1956 Willys Utility Wagon in a searing and gleeful bright hue. A recent find on a vintage car riding event I recently attended in San Salvador, and restored to close to factory correct “pine tint” paint.

So, is this joyful enough for you? Or is this just too much joyness to take in?

Notice I mentioned close to factory correct. As with many local restorations, some of the results are guesswork; in the case of this color, created at a local shop, aping as best as they could the surviving original paint.

Have your doubts? Well, here are the Willys’ ’56 factory colors. From “blue comet poly” to “Cherokee orange” and even “glacier white”.

Admittedly, this isn’t a color I relate with old Willys wagons; red, blue, and dark green are the ones I usually associate with this silhouette. Heck, even gray and “raven black”. I honestly can’t recall an old Willlys looking this bright, but this one’s hue was a factory concoction. And according to the owner, the vehicle’s original setup.

But yes, color. Like everything, an object of love and dislike, part of our never-ending fascination with the “new” while dispensing with the “old”. Have trouble with too many bright hues in those 1950s parking lots? No need to worry, we would all soon move away from those (As we well know today).

With no color photos at the time, I’ll take the word from period paintings. Like this one from the Museo del Prado, “Workers in Vizcaya”, from 1982 by Vicente Cutanda y Toraya.

 

It’s, after all, part of an evolution of sorts. A good is conceived early on, with few choices, with folks just happy to have the product available at all. Indeed, our industrial dawn doesn’t speak too well for color variation early on. And yes, reds and blues were somewhat common, but it wasn’t until the proliferation of synthetic dyes in the late 1800s that color became a thing for the average folk, at least in the garment area.

Plus, factory soot didn’t help in making for colorful cities, you know?

One can argue that the advent of color was a recurring theme throughout the Industrial Revolution’s progress. Technology/product created, hues and joy take over for a while, ebbing back to a sensible point. In cinema, from black and white to the Technicolor extravaganzas of the 1950s and 1960s. Movies like Vicente Minelli’s Gigi of 1958, with such vivid and gaudy displays, the eye is often overwhelmed.

Remaining in pop culture, TV went through the same upheaval, with an explosion of colors in those early color TV sets. Star Trek’s oversaturated palettes the result of novelty, being created amid 1960s psychedelia, and -perhaps more importantly- being sponsored by RCA. The latter clearly with a desire for the production to show viewers (and future buyers) the rich palettes available on a color RCA unit.

Trek aside, lurid schemes were common in the period, and one can see such efforts being the norm in products like The Prisoner or Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In.

Strictly speaking, early cars weren’t created with a commitment to a colorless world. Then again, black was the cheapest to produce (quickest to dry in those early days) and became Ford’s preferred non-hue from 1914 on. The Tin Lizzies popularity soon flooded the streets with their somber tones and jittery rides. Room for colorful -cost-effective- novelty was open, with others taking cards on the matter. Ford’s favored black was the sole choice in 1926, but by 1928, color for the masses was a must. Hues returned in sedate “color harmonies” to Dearborn by that date.

The postwar era was the dawn of the nuclear age, and coincidentally, colors also went thermonuclear. From “color harmonies” to a whole array of bright, cheerful hues, some of them seeming almost radioactive.

One could argue that car-speaking, the 1950s was peak joyful color, of which this “pine tint” Willys is a good example. It’s perhaps not the best model to portray such joyful impulses, which somewhat clash with the industrial severity of its forms. But part of the movement, nonetheless. After all, why should everyone else have all the fun?

When it comes to this particular survivor, the wagon has been in the same family for a few decades. As with many local restorations, an on-and-off affair that took long to complete. The alphanumeric plates indicate its return to Salvadorian roads is recent, as those didn’t appear until the last couple of years.

On closer inspection, one can see this wasn’t a full redo-it-all undertaking. Rather, fix and repair as much as possible, reusing all that could be saved from the original’s mechanicals and trim. About which, the car’s original flathead inline six Super Hurricane is still found under the hood. Refurbished and brought back to life, of course.

(And a minor mystery here, my guide indicates ’56 models have the grille’s middle bar higher up. A later mod on this one? Or a ’55 registered as a ’56 by the local Ministry of Transport?)

The Super Hurricane mill had been part of the model’s 4-Wheel Drive package since 1954. Now, these early 4-Wheel Drive vehicles were a sensation in this region, as few things could compete with their versatility. Something I talked about in a previous post at length.

Clearly, their early fame has gained them a faithful following to this day. I mean, what’s the survival rate on these? These American made vehicles were produced in the low thousands (about 16K in ’56), but their presence on our streets is still felt, occasionally, after 70 years. And on the plus side, they’re still quite useful on local haciendas and plantations.

Notice I said American made? A caveat worth mentioning, as Willys of Brazil had started to churn out a few of these starting in 1955. Though I doubt they built enough to attend anything beyond their own needs. Some would eventually reach Central America, but early on, all of these Willys were of US origin.

Also, notice on this rear bumper shot “Willys” on its own, with no reference to the Jeep name yet in 1956. That now renowned moniker would not be embossed on these wagons’ bodies until the following year. And yes, there’s some rot on that back door, a sign that some of that “resto” didn’t take hold. Or is this area waiting for a repurposed door further down the line?

Simplicity in its purest form.

Nope, not electronics in this contraption, my little ones.

Those who lived the period know that if you enjoy the outside hue, chances are high you can still enjoy it on the inside…

… and applied as highlights around the vehicle, too.

If the full “pine tint” treatment is too much for your particular eyes, you may find this two-tone treatment from Sacramento more appealing. On a personal note, an application that I find more tasteful.

As with everything, all that late ’50s flashiness was just too much and we all had to move on. The 1960s would bring the whole party down to sustainable levels, color and otherwise. And hues would remain around in generally more subdued forms… at least until recent, which seems quite bereft of it.

I suppose color will eventually make its way back into the automotive world, as hard as that may be to imagine now. But for today, this ’56 Willys serves as a good jolt to shake my senses and remind myself that other realities were possible. And this Willys may be slightly termonuclear, but so far, the exposure doesn’t seem to have caused side effects, other than some delight by its sight.

 

Related CC reading:

Curbside Classic: 1951 Willys Jeep Truck – The Antidote To Modern Life

Curbside Classic: 1946 Willys Jeep Station Wagon – The First Modern Station Wagon And SUV

Curbside Classic: 1955 Willys Truck – International Affair