Even non-connoisseurs of pre-war automotive delights would have reacted like I did when I saw this silver beauty pulling up. I think what I audibly said was something like “Oooh, danke SCHÖN! Kommen Sie to PAPA!” The double kidney nose makes this one of the easiest car to identify from afar, and yet I was (sort of) wrong. This is a Frazer Nash, not just a BMW.
There are a lot of links, automotive or otherwise, between Britain and Germany. Initially, it was mostly Germany influencing the UK – the British royal family, who are basically German, being driven in Daimlers (and guess where old Gottlieb came from?), that sort of thing.
But the situation changed as British carmakers became more established. Austin produced their groundbreaking Seven and sold licenses to manufacture them locally to various concerns, including the Dixi company in Eisenach. Said Dixi was soon bought by aircraft maker BMW. The British connection carried on: a BMW design was the kernel that begat Bristol Cars and BMW eventually became the owner of Rover, Mini and Rolls-Royce. Might the “B” in BMW stand for “British”?
No, of course. It’s standing for Bavarian. The expansion of BMW’s automobile branch was incredibly rapid and successful, and the hitherto little-known acronym grew in reputation very quickly in the ‘30s. They started from the Austin Seven, which is about as basic as a car could be in 1930, and graduated to magnificent 6-cyl. racers before the Second World War kind of put the car branch in a state of arrested development.
BMW cars (they dropped the Seven and the Dixi name by 1932) gained international attention quite quickly, even in the tariff-ridden world of early ‘30s Europe. A fledgling British marque took notice of this and stepped forward to take care of distributing BMWs for the British market. Frazer Nash bravely went to Munich and came back with a signed piece of paper in hand, promising a tangible exchange of Pounds Sterling for BMW chassis and complete cars. Some people know how to strike deals.
So who were this Frazer Nash outfit? The marque was founded by engineer Archibald Frazer Nash in 1923, but he soon lost control of it – by 1929, Frazer Nash was reorganized as AFN, producing out-and-out sports cars in the Aston Martin vein, albeit with a technical quirk: they all used a chain drive, inherited from the GN cyclecar that Archie Nash had engineered back in 1910. Frazer Nashes were built in minute quantities, like the 1935 Shelsley roadster shown above (eight chassis made), and chiefly used for races, rallies and hillclimbs. Costs were kept down thanks to the usie of a variety of engines (Meadows, Anzani, Blackburne…), but this was not sufficient to keep the firm in the black. Hence the idea to become BMW’s British importer.
BMW started their long love affair with the straight-6 in 1933 with their 303 model. The OHV M78 engine was tiny (1173cc, 30hp), but it was a big step from the Austin 747cc side-valve 4-cyl. that had motivated their cars up to that point. The M78 was enlarged to 1.5 litres in 1934 and 1.9 litres in 1935 for the BMW 315 and 319, respectively.
The 328’s 80hp 1971cc six was a development of the 1.2 litre engine, albeit with so many differences (including an aluminium cross-flow hemi head, a novel valvetrain and a triple Solex carburetor setup) and that it could be more correctly considered a distant cousin. The same engine was employed in the 327 coupé and, in tuned-down single-carb form, in the 326 saloon.
From a chassis perspective, the BMW 328 was also quite advanced. It took its IFS and leaf-sprung live rear axle from the 319, but installed it within a lighter tubular chassis. The body was also made of aluminium, making the whole car extremely agile – helped in this endeavour by very precise rack-and-pinion steering.
Frazer Nash started importing BMW 315 saloons and roadsters in 1935. When the 328 was launched in 1936, they added that to the list – it was evident that the wealthiest market in Europe needed access to the best 2-litre sports roadster in production. However, the 328 was in a league of its own in Germany, but it was a small fish in a big shark-filled pond over in the UK. Let’s take a look at the state of the aquarium.
Please note that “F-head,” in this table, is short for “Flathead”
Tough crowd, uh. There were a bunch of obscure Anglo-American hybrids (Railton, Jensen, Brough Superior, Lammas) with huge but reliable engines to contend with, as well as powerful home-grown designs (Talbot, Alvis, Aston Martin). There were also plenty of shady foreigners also looking for a place in the English sun, so to speak. I was unable to find precise price points for Alfa Romeo and Lancia, but I’m sure they would have been in the mix as well — certainly the V8-powered Astura, for instance.
If one were to compare the Frazer Nash-BMW to its more commonplace British 2-litre rivals, the game was over before it started: the aggressively handsome SS-Jaguar 100 roadster cost under £400; the MG SA or the Riley Kestrel Sprite were in that ball park as well.
Yet Frazer Nash managed to sell a steady trickle of RHD cars from Eisenach in Britain. The 328 was just too great a performer on the track to be dismissed – its high retail price might even have made it more appealing to some. Shame that the party came crashing down in September 1939 – right before the 328 was to win the Mille Miglia, too. No, I’m not mentioning the war.
Our specific car was apparently entered into a few races itself, as was the case for a lot of its ilk. I’m not sure many other German sports cars of the ‘30s were so popular with Sunday racers as the 328 – I cannot imagine anyone taking a Mercedes 540K or a Horch on an outing to the Tourist Trophy or the Paris-Nice. German firms focused on pure racing cars in those days, not lighter and (relatively) affordable owner-driver stuff.
The 328 wasn’t cheap anywhere, even in Germany, so it’s no surprise that production numbers were pretty limited. Still, 454 cars in four years is an excellent result, given how niche it was. For their part, AFN imported between 45 and 52 of these beauties (sources are conflicting), but some had yet to be sold when the curtain temporarily came down on the civilian automobile market.
As soon as the summer of 1945, AFN were back in Munich, smuggling a 328-like BMW prototype with Frazer Nash badges back to England so that Bristol could get started on manufacturing it and its engine, which would be used in postwar Frazer Nashes (among other marques) for a good while. But that’s a story we’ve heard before.
Frazer Nash carried on importing BMWs for many years, even after they quit making their own cars, and also added Porsche to their portfolio. Somehow, the car branch managed to exist in some form until the 1980s. In a curious twist of fate, another branch of the business ended up buying the remains of Bristol Cars in 2011. The automotive world makes for some odd marriages and even odder deaths, sometimes.
Tatra87:
Thank you for the explanation of the most obscure of the obscure, early histories of cars largely unknown here in the U.S. but for your fine contributions.
Now, did you cover Lammas-Graham already?
Just lovely .
-Nate
During the war Frazer-Nash was one the RAF’s two major suppliers of gun turrets for heavy bombers so their product was used to attack BMW.
Spectacular find. Undoubtedly this car was in races, as cars like this were truly sports cars, as in used in sporting events, not just having the right look.
Exceptionally written, and beautifully presented biography, of a truly gorgeous auto. Great work!
A great explanation ot the Frazer Nash-BMW connection. I never quite got the hang of it before. And thank you for not mentioning the you-know-what. 😉
Quite pricey for a two litre sports car, but once you ignore the capacity and consider the competence, it all starts to make sense.
(Looking at the stats in your table, are you sure that Auburn was an F-head? I suspect a few more of those F-‘s should be L-heads too.)
You’re right I meant F-head as in Flathead, not F-head as in IoE. Will add somthing to the table to clarify.
That very, very pretty machine, slung casually amongst the traffic in Tokyo, is one of two Fraser-Nash BMWs (plus one factory 328) entered and run in the 1937 Le Mans. That is, it is an expensive art piece, fallen out of time from the most glamourous years of the most most glamourous race in the world.
It may perhaps be unnecessary to suggest that the numerical odds of seeing it parked curbside and reported by one of our intrepids at CC is not especially high.
It might also be observed that, in a forward glance down the years to the BMWs we have today, it did not finish due to the death of its electricals.
Somehow the Professor seems able to transcend the bondage of mere numerical odds in his automotive encounters, and we are all the richer for it.
You don’t suppose he’s a deep cover for Doctor Who?
I never noticed before that the bonnet vents are different on each side – presumably to cool the exhaust manifolds.
I actually saw one of these in the metal about three years ago – though not an F/N one.
Classified ads in 1950s car mags included plenty of used FN 327s, but seldom 328s. I always wondered if they were imported fully-built or in pieces. The 328 front suspension design lasted well into the 60s on ACs, which were also available with Bristols’ own “BMW” engine.