The
Reconversion Economy and a Man’s Dream
WWII has been labeled the
physicist’s war, although chemists also made important contributions, as in the
case of the Emergency Synthetic Rubber project. But we remember the physicists’
contributions more, for their work led to the Atomic Age. In August 1945, World
War II ended suddenly with the dropping of two atomic bombs over Hiroshima and
Nagasaki, Japan. American policy makers and economic planners had anticipated
an allied victory beginning in mid-1944; however, and discussions concerning
the reconversion of the economy to a peacetime footing began to take on more
substance and significance after the Battle of the Bulge.103 For the
American automobile industry, meeting the pent-up demand from consumers who had
not been able to buy new cars since early 1942 was an unprecedented
opportunity. And, not surprisingly perhaps, new players wanted to get in on the
act. With huge wartime production plants empty and the federal government eager
to assist those at the margins rather than the center of the economy,
entrepreneurs, including Henry Kaiser, Joseph Frazer, J. Powell Crosley, and
Preston Tucker formulated ambitious plans to enter the marketplace and
challenge the Big Three.104
Until recently, the reconversion
economy has been largely neglected by historians, although auto “buff”
historians have been writing marque histories that focused on this period for
some time. Of all the post-war figures, perhaps the most interesting and
controversial was Preston Tucker, a name resurrected in more recent years due
to the 1988 film on his life directed by Francis Ford Coppola. Coppola’s
interest in the Tucker went back to his childhood, when his father ordered but
never received the car. Later, the younger Coppola would research the firm and
collect Tuckers. Two of his cars, along with twenty others, were used in the
film. With meticulous detail and a final script written by Arnold Schulman and
approved by Tucker’s three sons after several rewrites, Tucker rescued the man
and his car from the mists of time.105
Born in Capac Michigan in 1903,
Preston Tucker had “gasoline in his blood” at an early age.106 He
worked as an office boy at Cadillac, then briefly at the Ford Motor Company
before selling Studebakers, Stutzs, Chryslers, and Pierce-Arrows. A visionary,
by the early 1930s he had become involved in an aviation engine firm, the
takeover of the bankrupt Marmon Company, and the Miller-Tucker Company, a
builder of racing engines. On the eve of WWII, Tucker was living in Ypsilanti,
Michigan, where he designed a “tank” – a war vehicle that was capable of going
over 100 mph, a design apparently rejected by the military for going too fast.
However, his Plexiglas rotating gun turret was a success, and was employed on
numerous military aircraft during the war. The turret gained Tucker
considerable recognition. During the war, Tucker partnered for a time with
another charismatic businessman, New Orleans boat builder Andrew Jackson
Higgins. After the war, he moved forward with his dream to build the world’s
finest performing and safest automobile.
Initially, Tucker’s chances to
succeed were good, and since the War Assets Administration made factories
available first to independent entrepreneurs, Tucker acquired a wartime plant
used by Dodge and located in south Chicago. But Tucker, like others who were
attempting to break into the automobile business at that time, failed to
realize just how much money was required to do so. To raise money, Tucker had
to sell dealer franchises, and that sent him on a collision course with the
Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC). SEC investigations resulted in a
decline in investor confidence, and coupled with opposition from Michigan
senator Homer Ferguson and the Justice Department, by 1948 a dark cloud covered
the entire effort. Despite this adversity that some have suggested was
technological suppression on the part of powerful interests that included the
Big Three, some 51 Tucker ‘48s were produced, and these highly innovative cars
still remain one of the most sought-after collectible cars in America.
The Tucker ’48 was designed by Alex
Tremulis, who had previously worked at Auburn during the 1930s and served in
the Army Air Force during the war. This innovative car had a rear engine, was
streamlined with doors that curved into the roof, and capable of a top speed of
more than 100 mph while getting more than 20 mpg. It was a safe car as well,
with a padded dash, a “crash basement” for its front seat passenger, tubeless
tires, independent suspension and a pop-out windshield. But because of the
roadblocks raised in obtaining supplies like steel, SEC investigations, press
leaks, and a well-orchestrated rumor campaign, the company shut down in August
1948. In his disappointment, Tucker published an open letter in June 1948
concerning the obstacles he was facing. He wrote:
But
there is another group – a very powerful group – which for two years has
carried on a carefully organized campaign to prevent the motoring public from
ever getting their hands on the wheel of a Tucker. These people have tried to
introduce spies in our plant. They have endeavored to bribe and corrupt loyal
Tucker employees . . . But it hasn’t stopped there.
They
even have spokesmen in high places in Washington. As a direct result of their
influence, Tucker dealers all over the country – men of character and standing
in their communities – have been harassed and grilled by agents of the
government and Congressional Investigating Committees.
When
the day comes that anyone can bend our country’s laws and lawmakers to serve
selfish, competitive ends, that day democratic government dies.107
In a publicized trial Tucker was
acquitted of fraud, but the damage was already done, and all that was left for
him was to go to Brazil and attempt to build his last dream vehicle, the Tucker
Carioca, a kit car that supposedly could be assembled with only one wrench.
Tucker may have been victim to powerful forces, or he may just have been a bad
businessman. His experience may well have been reflective of life in America
during the early Cold War. Whatever the case, the dream for a truly
revolutionary post-war automobile was gone.
Incremental
changes coupled with annual style makeovers would lead the American automobile
industry down the road that would end in the appearance of the dinosaur in the
driveway by the end of the 1950s.
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