curbside Avanti images posted at the CC Cohort by Foden Alpha
(first posted 8/30/2013) Every car has a story, but some are a hell of a lot more compelling than others. The Avanti’s may well take the cake; it’s the absolute antithesis of how cars are (and were) typically conceived, designed and built in Detroit. And it shows–it’s both utterly brilliant and flawed. What else to expect when you lock four designers in a house out in the desert for a few weeks, stop the clocks, cut the phone lines, and work them sixteen hours per day to create a car intended to be the Hail Mary pass for a dying Studebaker? That’s not quite the recipe of measured design trial and error that resulted in the timeless perfection of some of the other memorable new cars from 1963, like the Buick Riviera, Corvette Sting Ray and Porsche 911. No; perfect the Avanti wasn’t; but highly memorable and original it was, because of just that.
Studebaker’s automotive business was in deep doo-doo when the energetic Sherwood Egbert (on left, with Raymond Loewy) took the driver’s seat in early 1961. After a brief flowering of profits from the perfectly-timed compact 1959 Lark, most of the money had been spent on non-automotive diversification acquisitions by a board that saw the inevitable writing on the car-factory wall. But Egbert was determined to shake things up and turn Studebaker’s car business around. Now that’s the makings of a spectacular Studebaker Death Watch series.
We’ve covered some of those chapters, like the 1962 Gran Turismo Hawk, and the 1963 Wagonaire; as well as what might have been, the ambitious Sceptre. Egbert was desperately trying to find a viable niche for Studebaker in a rapidly changing market, as the compact segment was suddenly very crowded. While trying to synthesize a sustainable formula for the longer haul, Egbert reverted to a common tactic: the quickie halo car, something to generate some buzz and floor-traffic for the tired Studebaker line, while figuring out how to fund a line of new cars. A stylish sports car; that was the solution! Especially since that had worked so well for Kaiser.
It was all rather familiar territory for Studebaker. Back in 1953, the brilliant Starliner coupe (1954 with non-stock fender skirts shown; CC here), commonly called the “Loewy coupe” for Raymond Loewy whose design firm had a lengthy contract with Studebaker for decades, generated a lot of excitement too (and subsequent disappointment). The Loewy contract had ended some years before Egbert arrived, but wanting to re-ignite the old magic, Egbert picked up the phone one day in January of 1961, and told Loewy to design him a “sports car”. “And it must be a knock-out”. And here’s the real kicker: the finished clay model was to be delivered in six weeks!
image: Studebaker 1946-1966 Richard Langworth
Of course, Loewy told him he could do it, as long as he was left utterly alone, without any interference from South Bend. It was so agreed, and Loewy took three of his best men, Tom Kellogg, Bob Andrews and John Epstein, and sequestered themselves in a rented Palm Springs desert bungalow with no clocks. telephone or conjugal visits. They came with no idea what their mission was. Loewy arrived with a bunch of drawings, gave them the brief, and then the work started.
Loewy’s initial drawings envisioned a more glassy green house, but that eventually gave way to the more enclosed upper body design. But there were four aspects that Loewy insisted on being preserved and developed: a wedgy stance, a Coke-bottle shape, an asymmetrical hump on the hood that terminated in a wrap-around instrument panel, and a grill-less front end. All were highly unconventional for the times, but the Avanti’s front end was the most revolutionary, at least for American cars, as the Citroen DS had one since 1955. It certainly was prescient, foreshadowing the bikini-wax front ends that came to dominate automotive design some twenty years later, right down to the faired-in headlights.
Oddly, the clean original round lights were changed to rectangular surrounds for the 1964 MY, although some ’64s still had the round lights. Not an improvement to my eyes, and Avantiphiles will argue on this issue forever.
The final result is utterly unique, totally distinctive, and something of an acquired taste. Clearly, the Avanti would never have come out of Bill Mitchell’s GM studios. From some angles, like this one, it looks a bit amateurish, and as if its plastic body had started melting a bit. Look how the bottoms of the door heads upwards toward its jacked-up rear end. You sure wouldn’t see that on a Detroit-mobile.
still attracting stares 50 years on
That’s undoubtedly the result of the Avanti’s conception in a hermetically-sealed environment, with no objective outside perspective or the ability of the designers to step away for a while. It’s very much a true Loewy design, not unlike all of the cars he designed for his personal use.
There are so many Avanti details that may seem odd, like the unusual wheel openings. They were inspired by the “reentry curves” of space capsules returning to earth, from Loewy’s work with NASA. The rather upright rake of the windshield was a compromise, after Egbert conked his head getting into the seating buck. There were others too, partly out of necessity of making the Avanti body fit the 109″ wb Lark convertible frame, itself an evolution of Studebaker frames going back to at least 1953. Not necessarily a bad thing, but it was a rather high, old-school affair, and achieving a low roof line meant practically sitting on the floor, as had been the practice on Stude coupes since 1953.
From other angles, the Avanti works, quite superbly even, as long as one keeps in mind the limitations of its gestation and budget. Its Coke-bottle shape and clean flanks were certainly prescient, a theme that would soon be exploited by GM in 1965.
In its overall conception and target market, the Avanti is perhaps most analogous to some of the small coach-built British luxury coupes, like the Bristol and the Jensen. No doubt, the 1966 Jensen Interceptor’s giant wrap-around rear window, as well as much of its overall design, owes much to the Avanti.
Of course, the Avanti went on to have quite a long life like the Bristol, in its second and protracted incarnation as the Avanti II. But let’s not go down that road today, as it gets bumpier the further one goes. The Avanti’s original design, for better or for worse, did not lend itself well to “modernizing”; it should have just been left alone.
Egbert was open to either a two-passenger or four-passenger sports coupe, but Loewy insisted on the latter. Given the Thunderbird’s evolution and success, limited Corvette sales, and the growing interest in four-seat personal luxury coupes, it was obviously the wiser choice. But the Avanti’s seats, dash, console and other design aspects make it clear that it was targeted to a more active driver than the Thunderbird, starting with its integral roll bar, quite visible here.
image: vaultcars.com
The Avanti’s instrument panel was the antithesis of typical Detroit affairs, with their over-sized malformed speedometers spread across three feet of real estate, and a few “idiot lights”. The hood bulge terminated in a superb wrap-around panel, bedecked with a full complement of no-nonsense SW gauges. Rear differential oil temperature ok? It’s easy to see why Avanti owners are so enthusiastic about their them, when their cars communicate so effectively with them.
It wasn’t just the dash, of course, that endeared the Avanti to its drivers. The Avanti was the first American production car to have caliper disc brakes as standard (Dunlop-licensed design built by Bendix). And in order to give the disc brakes a workout, the Avanti offered different stages of tune on its venerable 289 CID V8. The base Jet-Thrust R1 already had a high-lift cam, heavy-duty internal components, four-barrel carb and dual exhausts, to yield an estimated 240 hp. The mufflers on the Avanti were notoriously loud, specifically so specified by Egbert; as if folks weren’t going to notice every Avanti on the streets anyway.
image: studebakerdriver’sclub.com
Adding a Paxton belt-driven supercharger upped the ante to some 285-290 hp, in the R2. And nine production Avantis got the legendary R3, which was bored out to 304.5 cubic inches, and had transistorized ignition and higher boost, all resulting in at least 335 wooly horsepower. The R4 and R5 were strictly experimental units, with up to 575 hp.
image: stevemckelvie
Andy Granatelli took the Avanti to Bonneville and easily set a slew of international speed records. Mickey Thompson was after the same ones with a hot 421 tri-power Pontiac that probably had some 100 hp on the Avanti. But what gave the Avanti the advantage was its drastically more aerodynamic body, estimated to have a Cd of “in the high 0.30s”, as well as a much smaller frontal area.
The records were bagged, and it gave the Avanti bragging rights as the “World’s Fastest Production Car”. Unfortunately, that certainly wouldn’t apply to the Avanti’s production process or its sales take rate.
The Avanti’s body was not originally conceived to be made of fiberglass, but the realities of tooling up for a steel one was out of the question. Most of all, time was of the essence; Egbert was an impatient man, and he knew he had limited time on his hands to perform a miracle. The molds for a GRP body were much quicker and cheaper to make than all the tooling for a steel body.
Egbert’s wanted the bodies to be made in the South Bend plant, but was wisely talked out of that, and its production was subbed out to Molded Fiberglass Products. But the initial molds were not properly sized for expansion and contraction, and the first 100 bodies were almost unusable, requiring massive amounts of hand cutting, patching and fitting. The result was an echo of 1953, when serious production snags held up the new Starliner coupes.
Some have speculated that Molded Fiberglass Products, which also built the Corvette’s bodies, sabotaged the Avanti with the ill-fitting shells, on the behest of GM. Makes for a good conspiracy theory, but in reality, Studebaker’s budget and time constraints were the real source of the problems. Haste makes waste…
As alluded to earlier, the Avanti was as slow to leave the factory door as it was fast on the sands. A mere 3,834 of 1963 Avantis were sold, followed by 809 of the slightly-revised 1964s. And although some claim (still today) that the initial production snafus were the reason for the poor sales, the evidence clearly suggessts otherwise. Production issues were sorted out soon enough, after the first 100 bodies, and from then on the problem was unsold Avantis littering up the factory floor. Why?
It just didn’t catch on; neither with the Studebaker sales force and dealers nor with the public. The Avanti was just too different and unusual, and was referred to as “the anteater from South Bend”, among other names. Americans want to buy into the next hot thing, car or otherwise, and the Avanti was just not it. It was a dud; one that buyers weren’t going to part their money with, especially when Buick had its new Riviera in the showrooms. And Chevrolet its new Sting Ray. And if that wouldn’t have done the deed, the Mustang was just around the corner.
Raymond Loewy was born in Paris to Austrian and French parents, and his intrinsic taste was decidedly more continental than American. Although his design firm was responsible for a number of successful American industrial designs of all kinds–mostly not cars–the Avanti was the purest expression of a Loewy-mobile ever put into production. His personal cars were hardly mainstream, and typically quite exotic, like this 1956 Jaguar-based coupe. Now before you pile in on it, keep in mind that there’s a big difference between designing something for your personal use and for a client. Still…
His 1957 custom-bodied BMW 507 coupe is one of the tamer ones, and already hints at a number of Avanti design elements to come.
The last car he designed and built for himself (in 1960) before the Avanti was this Lancia Flamina based coupe, called the Loraymo. Its anteater front end doesn’t hint at the Avanti in the least.
But the rear half certainly does. Loewy’s renderings that he took to Palm Springs were essentially an evolution of the Loraymo, except with a very different front end; blunt, with four headlights.
Sherwood Egbert essentially commissioned Loewy to design a car he might well have built for himself, and that was taking a substantial risk. In previous Studebaker design commissions, Loewy drew from a wider range of creative input, and the design process went through various stages of development with management feedback at each key step. There’s little doubt these affluent Americans enjoying their drinks in this Palm Springs house would have been better served with something a bit more familiar: a Manhattan or Martini instead of a Loewy on the rocks.
But like many fine French wines, the Loewy Avanti has aged remarkably well. Fifty years after it first arrived, the Avanti is still a breath of…well…different air, if not exactly so fresh anymore. It’s as distinctive and unmistakable a car as it gets, which is a tribute to Raymond Loewy and his three co-prisoners. But it’s hardly what the buying public wanted, especially from a company that was on the rocks already.
Related reading:
I was 16 when this car was introduced. While it may not have been “the next hot thing” for adults, most of my buddies (and I) lusted after the Avanti. Of course, none of us could possibly afford such a car as we were all just getting our driver’s licenses and were going through high school…
Although I’ve seen pictures of the Avanti, I only saw one in person. Some people like the round headlamp surrounds, I also like the squarish headlamp surrounds.
the HPs of the avanti R engines were much higher than they said , a R3 with DD valve springs were over 400 Hp and a R5 dino tested could reach 664 a R2 over 300 Hp R1 254 Hp not 240 … this I know
Here’s an image from a newspaper ad in 1964. My father’s first new car was a ’53 coupe. When I was in 11th grade, my best friend’s father bought a new ’63 Avanti, gold paint with orange upholstery, and a supercharger. One Saturday afternoon my friend and I drove the Avanti at about 100 mph, heading south towards Dallas. Unfortunately, because the vents were open, and the windows rolled up, the back window blew out. My friend wasn’t allowed to drive it after that.
just a note , the HP of the stude engines were higher than they said ,, dino tests prove that , depending on diff ratio some were faster too a R2 could reach over 150 mph even a R1 about 140 with tall diff .. the R3 335 hp was really 354 hp with DD valve springs set up ,, well over 400 hp with the right Diff 170 mph the R5 set up , dino test shows well over 600 hp not that 575 they said so yea
What a civil discourse on a legacy subject!
My own experience goes back to architectural design school in 1963-5. Loewy was the subject of an extended lecture within which the diversity of his work was presented and discussed. A medley of locomotives, pencil sharpeners, dutch ovens, corporate logos, refrigerators, Air Force one, the coca cola bottle, early post war Studebakers and of course the Avanti. When the Avanti was shown, then contemporaneous, I knew I had to have one but also knew I lacked the financials to do so.
I think it is without a doubt that Loewy regarded highly and was influenced by the work of Batista Farina, later known as Pinifarina, the design studio for Ferrari, Alpha, Lancia, Maserati, Fiat and numerous other automobile manufacturers. He openly expressed an affection for their ‘stream lining” and future vision. In my view, he was directly influenced by these Italian designs. The logo emblem on the roof support panel is pure Maserati. In no way do I seek to diminish his creativity but he sought, and found, inspiration not in Detroit, but in Turin! He didn’t choose a French, German or English name, he chose Italian, not an accident.
Finally, after over 50 years, I bought my Avanti in November of 2016. It is a registered 1963 but is a model 1964 with round windows but interior 1964 details. It is R4944, delivered in August of 1964 to a buyer in Connecticut.
Today, when I drive it on the streets of Houston, it turns heads, 55 years after it’s production and 57 years after its design. Truly amazing. Regarding the discussion about its “failure, I think the jury is in, it was not a failure, it was early. What production car anywhere has had Phoenix like rebirths like has the Avanti? I think none, none. Regarding the proportions others have discussed, I submit the front window should indeed have been more sloped as Loewy wanted and Egbert rejected. The problem was the were limited by the Lark chassis dimensions and needed another 9-12 inches to get that slope but of course couldn’t due to the compressed manufacturing schedule imposed by Egbert, no criticism intended. So the man that wrote a book titled “Never Leave Well Enough Alone”, and hated unneeded ornament, and was dedicated to simplicity of form and function, the Avanti is perhaps his most enduring legacy. It was perhaps 15 to 20 years early, all the best for its admirers, aka collectors. The fact that a very high quality Avanti can be bought today for $20-30K remains a tribute to his forward thinking. Before the “Mid century” design trend ends, I anticipate that Lowey’s work, and the Avanti, will be discovered for the genius that they were and have always been.
Mine is in the shop being painted a metallic root beer, it should be out soon and will turn even more heads, especially my own…
I’m not a fan of the Avanti. It’s not that there’s anything particularly wrong with the car (the styling certainly can’t be faulted). No, my beef with it began after I saw the Sceptre concept car at the Studebaker museum.
Studebaker could not afford to build both the Sceptre and Avanti. Inexplicably. it was the much more expensive Avanti that got the go ahead. If they had instead, built the Sceptre to do battle in the PLC category against the Thunderbird and Riviera, I dare say they might have had a chance to make a little money and Studebaker might have lived a bit longer.
I’ve pondered the reasons some halo cars brighten the stars all around them and seemingly lift their spirits along with their sales, whereas others like the Studebaker Avanti and Plymouth Prowler utterly fail to spark a brand renaissance, and what is the key trait the former has and the latter is lacking?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9W7CBuHCiYY
The video above lays out a mission the Avanti couldn’t keep. The filmmakers seemed to think the Avanti was a much roomier, more comfortable, more posh car than it was, something that would appeal to those sophisticated mid-century party-going couples. Something like an early personal luxury coupe like a four-seat Thunderbird, a Grand Prix, or a Riviera. Something like the prototype Studebaker Sceptre from 1962. The Irony is that Stude had such a car two years before Ford or anyone else did with the 1956 Golden Lark, but the presence of non-hardtop six-cylinder strippo models (which accounted for most of their sales) prevented the Golden Lark from establishing a luxury image. At least they didn’t repeat that mistake with the Avanti, making a nice interior and a R-series V8 minimum kit. But Ford did with Mustang, and could afford to because Ford could fulfill hi-po orders with 389s and four-speeds and let their image rub off on the greater number of Mustangs that had the Falcon six mated to a Ford-o-Matic. But it looked sporty, and Ford had an ample supply of steel bodies. Yet conceptually, the process that turned the Falcon into a Mustang was similar to that which turned Larks into Avantis. Take your compact sedan, stuff it with hi-performance gear at least on higher-end models, keep the aging platform, but make it look lower and sleeker and nothing like the car that sired it, leaving a sporty and youthful-looking 2+2 where everyone can see. Am I describing the Mustang or the Avanti? But the Mustang had to be cheap to be successful, whereas the Avanti needed to be expensive. That’s why a small fastback coupe with out-there styling, limited legroom and noisy mufflers was the wrong car for the job.
Frustrating because they got so much right with the Avanti. The interior certainly looked the part, especially on 1964 models with the wood paneling on the dash and console. and other updates.
Golden Hawk that should be not Golden Lark, I shouldn’t try to write at 6am
The weird, a-bit-off details of the design subconsciously catch the eye now, long after grille-less, aerodynamic, low-slung coupes became common. The slight droop of the side window sill changes the stance of the whole car.
Never a fan of the domestic auto manufacturers, but even less the little ones, I was smitten by the Avanti, when, or somewhat after it came out, I’m far from young, but only so old. It was the only Stude I’d ever seen that wasn’t completely frumpy/dumpy.
In retrospect, I doubt anything could have saved the company, but IMO the Avanti was a valiant effort, tragically styling trumps engineering, at least short term, and it was a good looking car.
My deseaded wife & I picked up our Avanti at the factory in 1978. It still has her name engraved on the dash. At 80K miles the car has never been a problem. I still love driving it. Marlin