You have to hand it to the BMC boys. They were masters at badge engineering, at stretching a bodyshell’s life to its extreme limit and at glamorizing the dullest econobox into a miniature Jaguar. There were many examples of these skills on display, from the ‘50s right through to the British Leyland era. Today’s illustration will be wearing the renowned Riley badge, and comes with a lot of hyphens.
One-point-five, all spelled out and in cursive. That’s the official moniker. You don’t see the hyphen on the script, but they’re there in every single advert and period review. This is a BMC product though, so you could get the same thing (or virtually so) under another appellation, as we shall see. But as we’ve not had this model or any of its aliases on CC before, let’s start with a few basics.
The Riley One-Point-Five and its lower-spec sister model, the Wolseley 1500, were introduced in 1957. The Wolseley was unveiled first in the spring, and the Riley followed at the London Motor Show in the autumn. The chassis was a typical BMC mix’n’match affair: the frame and suspension came from the Morris Minor and the 1.5 litre B-Series engine came from Austin, by way of the MG Magnette.
The car’s original mission actually was to replace the Minor (by then almost ten years old), but since the Morris’ sales were still very strong, and what with that whole Suez business, BMC elected to turn their new small family car into a sporty and upmarket model. Hence the use of Wolseley and Riley badging and the 1.5 litre B-Series.
Being the lower-spec model, the 42hp Wolseley had a simpler dash, but the interior was still wood and leather galore, except in the so-called “fleet” model. None of that base trim stuff for the Riley, whose even nicer dash included a rev counter, being that the marque had a sporting reputation to keep up. The One-Point-Five did benefit from a much hotter 58hp engine (up to 60hp by 1962) with twin SU carburators, making it quite a performer. Enough to make one’s bowler fall off, at least.
Early models like the one shown in the 1958 brochure above had external bonnet and boot hinges, which disappeared with the Mark II in 1960. In late 1961, a more extensive facelift gave the car a new grille and taillights, as well as improved interiors. Production carried on with minimal changes until April 1965, when both the Wolseley and the Riley variants were put to pasture.
With BMC being deeply ensconced into their badge-engineering phase, the same car with yet more grille arrangements was also produced and sold in Australia as the Austin Lancer and the Morris Major between 1958 and 1962, then as the Morris Major elite (sans Austin equivalent) until MY 1964. Neither VandenPlas nor Innocenti got a piece of the action though. Close, but no ADO16.
Again, you have to hand it to BMC: they sure could lay on the wood and leather in that cabin. And with that twin-carb 1.5 pulling a tarted-up Morris Minor, the Riley was quite the performer, as well. Really, the invocation of Jaguar is not as far fetched as it seems.
The Riley scored very favourably in contemporary tests as to its suspension, speed, steering and presentation. The decision to keep the gear lever on the floor was also seen as a plus, given that a trendier column shifter would not have served much purpose – three abreast seating was never on the cards, given the car’s narrow body.
Which brings us to the model’s demerits: seating was cramped, headroom included (tall drivers need no apply, apparently). Said gear lever commanded a box whose synchromesh was prone to failure and the B-Series’ sound, while not unpleasant, was deemed a tad invasive.
Not mentioned in contemporary tests was the car’s overall aesthetics. It looks rather dumpy and upright, like many smaller British cars of the period, but at least it has rather handsome features. The most striking thing, though, has to be how dated the design was for the late ‘50s.
Had it debuted in, say, 1953 or 54, the One-Point-Five would have seemed decently up-to-date. But it was born a lot later than that and had to last well into the ‘60s. BMC could have done something a bit edgier. The Australian variants sprouted fins from 1960 onwards, strangely enough, but the home market models never received anything of the sort.
But ultimately, the Riley’s main attraction was its badged and the promise of a sporty little saloon. It was a very successful competitor in the British Saloon Car Championship between 1958 and 1962, and several were also raced on the Continent, scoring a number of class victories.
The question of the price remained a major sticking point, though. It fluctuated quite a bit year-on-year, but the Riley was typically 15-20% dearer than the Wolseley, pitting it against a lot of larger and more modern-looking cars, as well as some interesting imported alternatives. You know where this is going…
At £800 in 1963, the One-Point-Five was interesting performance-wise, but a few sterling more could get you a far larger Morris Oxford or the new MG 1100 – BMC had you covered, in those days. But Singer, Renault, Ford or Simca also had a lot to offer for (sometimes) less money.
That goes some way to explain the Riley’s modest sales: according to the Riley Motor Club, just over 39,000 units were made between 1957 and 1965 (compared to over 100k Wolseley 1500s). However, that does give the One-Point-Five the distinction of being the most popular model of the marque’s history, so everything is relative. It may have been a little old-fashioned and somewhat expensive for its size, but isn’t it a charming way to kick off this British ‘60s Saloon Week?
Thanks, TATRA87; it’s a wonderful revelation to me. And that’s $30, 940.81 as of 2025. At least according to this website: https://www.uwyo.edu/numimage/currency.htm
Looks pretty but “dumpy” is the correct term .
-Nate
Agreed, even more so in the metal, too much car and too many features on too small a wheelbase. Good to see the contemporary advertisement, the British car ad tiny people take another bow.
Riley was meant to be the class act but without a proper twin cam engine it was only a shadow of a Riley same with the lack of an OHC engine in the Wolseley badged version, BMC turned storied brands into nothing.
All versions showed up in New Zealand including the Aussie models, later Morris Major Elites got the 1622 engines from the Oxford and did go a little better but the styling is awkward.
Cute but dumpy. Same engine and transmission as in the MGA.
Cool, wish we had more of these in America.
That front end, I may be wacky but I see the inspiration for the Mitsuoka Galue right there.
I briefly owned a tidy example of those befinned Aussie versions, thanks for mentioning them. Mine was the later ‘big block’ [sic] Morris Major Elite with 1622cc. Tests claimed almost 110 km/h in 3rd and in the relative these were regarded as being quite a sporty thing, albeit substance over style. They would keep a Falcon or Holden 6cyl honest up to 50 mph, yet it was priced below the VW 1200. In production the Elite achieved 95% local content.
An immaculate ’62 Elite showing off those fins – not my car (which btw was identical to the advert, including the contrasting side flash). Ahh, memories..
Btw Bryce, isn’t it more accurate to say the Oxford got its Australian-developed 1622 from the Elite.
Very dated for 1962, but then leaving cars in production for too long seemed to be a BMC forte. This should have appeared as the replacement for the Riley RME 1.5 litre in 1955. Indeed this body design was the natural replacement for the Minor, which was pretty much the role it filled in Australia. We got the Wolseley 1500, but not the Riley.
Morris Majors were all over the place when I was a kid. The Austin version was less common. They seemed to last – as late as 1980 kids would pick one up as a first car. The Elite gained a longer wheelbase, but whether that relieved the cramped accomodations I couldn’t say, only ever having ridden up front. You were always aware you were in a narrow car though.
The badge, dashboard and grille “engineering” on these 50’s and 60’s BMC car was more than just an attempt at emulating the Sloan ladder. It was ahead of its time by pre-dating the Cimarron by decades.
My Mother had the Austin Lancer version back in the 70s, and oh how I despised it, it really stood out in its garish red and white two tone, the engine made an embarrassing farting noise during Mums imperfect gear changes.
Turning a corner one day, one side of the front suspension completely collapsed, more embarrassment for me.
Thankfully that incident caused it to be replaced by a much more acceptable and durable Torana.
I try not to hate on old cars, but do make an exception for some BMC products.
I think it would actually be quite a charming car to own, now. But looking at your list of comparisons, honestly I think it would be bottom of the list for desirability.
I don’t think these survived very well. Through the seventies and eighties, I can remember seeing some of the other cars in the list quite frequently, but not the BMC. It may of course be that they were around but their dullness has made me forget them.
A real old person’s car.