Heavy Metal Madness: Baby You Can Drive My Car

Gene Gable

January is the big month for auto shows, with both the Los Angeles Auto Show and the North American International Auto Show in Detroit happening within a week of each other. This year there were a number of interesting models released, and the usual assortment of “concept” cars trotted out by auto makers to show what they could do if they really put their minds to it. But these days, the release of new car models is not such a big deal — car makers seem to be on their own schedule, and it’s often hard to keep track of which model is the “new” new one, and which one is last year’s model.

Figure 1: At the 1962 International Auto Show in Detroit, American Motors used cardboard cut-outs of women in prom dresses to promote their new releases. Car shows have long depended on models to point to new models.

Figure 2: Cover of the program for the 1958 Auto Show. There was a time when new car models were big news and much anticipated.

But back in the days when there were only three major TV networks, when “Life” and “Look” magazine dominated the newsstands, and auto makers were much fewer in number, the new model releases were big news indeed. Come September and October, not only did the new television season premiere, but also the family would gather round the TV set to ooh and ahh or make raspberries at the commercials for latest new sedans, wagons, and coupes. Car companies would run teaser ads, showing shrouded new models to pique interest and build anticipation. Often new designs would be dramatically revealed during prime time. Everyone was in on the act, and everyone had an opinion of the new Chevys, Oldsmobiles, Pontiacs, Fords, Lincolns, Chryslers, AMCs, and a rare “foreign” model like the Volkswagen.

Figure 3: Car companies have always appealed to the same emotions. Here, a new Oldsmobile is targeted to the “intelligent” car buyer. You can tell she’s intelligent because she’s wearing pants and not a provocative outfit.

Figure 4: Oldsmobile always had the nicest type, I think, of all the car companies. Their cars weren’t mere cars, they were rockets!

Fine Corinthian Leatherette
Cars where what America was all about, especially on the West Coast where I grew up, and where automobiles represented status the way iPods do now. A new car was the most important acquisition a family could make, and we took design and style very seriously. In those days it was rare to confuse models or brands — these days it’s hard to tell most cars apart, unless you opt for one of the retro designs currently so popular.

Figure 5: This 1951 Chevrolet Styleline De Luxe 4-Door Sedan featured a Powerglide transmission and introduced the new Modern-Mode interior that highlighted superb new fabrics and two-tone color harmonies.

Figure 6: By 1938, Plymouths had been on the market for ten years, and this much-anticipated new edition was so quiet, you could hear your watch ticking inside.

Automobile advertising then was probably not a whole lot different than automobile advertising now, except that the emphasis was placed much more on the new model year. Photos still distorted interiors to look as big as a living room, artwork conveyed speed and style that was lost when you drove off the lot, and the men and women who owned cars in these ads were still the hippest, most fashionable people on earth.

Figure 7: The 1951 Oldsmobile Rocket 98 Holiday Sedan was the “most luxurious Oldsmobile ever.” The ad pointed out the glamour throughout this flagship of the Oldsmobile line.

Figures 8 and 9: These stylized drawings from the 1960 launch of new Oldsmobile models promised to “rocket you out of the ordinary. These images and several others are from the fantastic series of vintage advertising available from publishers Taschen.

The biggest difference between car ads of the past and those of today is the use of artwork to show the cars and features. In reviewing vintage car ads, I’d say at least half of those produced before the ’70s relied on stylized artwork rather than photos. The art of photography and special effects wasn’t what it is today, so if you wanted to create that perfect romantic setting, or show a happy family in their wagon on the way to the beach, you had to have it drawn.

Figure 10: My how roomy that interior is. The 1938 Plymouth had it all.

But What Will the Neighbors Think?
My dad was the type who talked big about getting a new car, but rarely acted. We’d pile in the 5-year-old Buick and drive down to the auto dealers on Main Street to take a look in person at the new models. My mother would generally stay at home, but my sisters and I would be giddy with excitement at the prospect of opening all those doors, trying out the back seats, and smelling the interiors. And I would hang out with my dad when he talked to the salesman, picking up all those important negotiation and “dickering” skills as he called them. We’d pick out a color, picture ourselves on a road trip, and delight in the image of our neighbors’ faces as we pulled up in our brand-new car. We’d gather all the brochures we could, and I’d peruse them over and over again, studying every detail and specification. I think it was this early introduction to high-quality graphics that got me interested in type and design. You could always count on the auto companies to have the best ad agencies, printers, and designers.

Figure 11: The choices of American car brands was a bit greater in 1938 than it is now. Here, the new Hupmobile is featured. It sure catches everyone’s eyes as you drive by.

Figure 12: Scantily clad women and car sales seem to have gone together throughout the history of the automobile, as shown here in a 1966 Fiat 1500 Spyder ad. The caption appealed to “the man who knows a beautiful thing when he sees it. A man loaded with red blood cells that glow brighter with adventure’s in the wind.”

But of course we never actually drove home in a new car, though my dad would often take us for a test drive. No, we were a practical, used-car family — the kind who understood that “a new car loses 20 percent of its value the minute you drive it off the lot.” As if that mattered. We were also the kind of family that kept its cars until they collapsed in a smoking heap, no longer worth fixing. And that only after my dad had spent countless hours under the hood, cursing.
But none of that kept us from dreaming about all those new models, or from going to school and telling our friends which new car we would buy. Most families had a “designated” brand that they favored. We were a Buick family, just like my mother’s family before us. My wife’s father was a Ford man, and once rejected one of her high-school suitors because he drove a Chevy. Our neighbors Stanley and Florence Foote always drove an Oldsmobile, and the teenage boys next door were passionately into Corvairs. It was the Wonder Years after all, and the most social act you could participate in was standing around a car’s open hood, staring at the engine, throwing in your two cents about the current repair under way, or just your thoughts on engines in general (which everyone had).

Figure 13: The yearly release of new models created a competitive frenzy in the world of advertising.

Figure 14: Since my first car was a 1960 Corvair that I paid $35 for (it ran), I had to include this ad from 1963. And yes, I read Ralph Nader’s Book as soon as I bought it, but for $35, who cares if the wheels fold under when you make a turn?

Driving home in a new car was a sure way to get the neighbors out and over for a visit, and would always provoke my dad to make disparaging remarks about the purchaser. “Figures he’d get a Cadillac,” he’d say. “They’re designed for short Jews.” Or when the people across the street bought a bright-yellow Pontiac he remarked, “Looks like a goddamn railroad station. Only a Baptist would choose such a garish color.” And for anyone purchasing above what my father considered their means, he had a standard retort: “Well, well. Look at Mr. And Mrs. Gotrocks in their new car. They either inherited a big wad or went up to their neck in debt.” He always referred to rich people as The Gotrocks.
No Longer Breathless With Anticipation
Automobile collateral and advertising is still some of the best work in the field, though with less emphasis on print these days and more on the television. We’ve become jaded to new car designs, and the new model year is just a number these days, not an event. I suppose families still go car shopping for the new minivan together, but do kids really have an opinion on whether a Toyota is better or different than a Honda?

Figure 15: In my home town when the new models came out, car dealers really did have klieg lights announcing their arrival. And free balloons for the kids!

Figure 16: Before they turned to electronics and computers, the Packard family made cars. Here, the new 1951 models are shown.

We’re still pretty car obsessed, and cars are still a fashion and status symbol. I guess that will always be the case. But we no longer gather around open hoods, knock on our neighbor’s door and ask them if we can sit in their new car, or stay glued to the television so we can get a first glimpse of the “bitchin” new Corvette. But then those were the days where every neighbor was referred to by their nationality or religious persuasion, and kids were raised on the principals of Benjamin Spock. We needed big fins and Landau roofs on our cars to express the individualism that was lost in the countless housing tracts and planned communities of post-war America.

Figure 17: By 1966, car makers had gotten hip, and mod as shown in this ad for the new Ford Fairlane convertible. The small print referred to this car as “swinging.”

Maybe my boring Honda (don’t even ask me what year it is — I always have to look) isn’t so bad after all. And even though my father would be turning in his grave, I bought it new, knowing full well how foolish that was. I guess my wife and I are really Mr. and Mrs. Gotrocks after all.
Read more by Gene Gable.