In a recent column, Karl Ludvigsen (2022) wondered whether some cars that were renamed should not have been. For example, he noted that Ford might have benefitted by keeping the Cortina name in Great Britain rather than changing it to the Sierra in sync with a major 1983 redesign. Ludvigsen’s behind-the-scenes story is worth a read.
That got me to thinking about how well car renamings have gone in the United States. An exhaustive analysis is beyond the scope of this fairly quick-and-dirty story, but I thought I would throw out a few observations to cultivate a discussion.
My general sense is that U.S. automakers have renamed their cars (and trucks) more frequently than foreign automakers. A key reason is that American automotive executives have historically been more wedded to “planned obsolescence” than their counterparts in Europe and Asia.
Changing a name is a relatively easy way to emphasize that a car is “new” — even when not much has changed. A case in point is the 1971 AMC Matador, which was very similar to the previous year’s Rebel except for new front-end sheetmetal.
Also see ‘Brand management: The tail that now wags U.S. auto industry’
The Matador also illustrates how name changes have often coincided with an automaker’s attempt to bolster the sagging fortunes of a car line. So if sales didn’t revive — as was initially the case with the Matador — one could plausibly blame other factors besides the new name. However, the flip side is one could argue that it would have been more productive to improve the car than change the name.
Mid-sized field was dominated by name changes
In the postwar era U.S. automakers tended to rename cars in response to their rivals. Perhaps the most prominent example was the mid-sized field of the late-60s and early-70s, when eight out of nine entries received major nomenclature shifts.
Also see ‘General Motors trumped Ford’s 1962 foray into mid-sized cars’
Most of those shifts reflected the widespread practice of introducing a new top-end series that in time took over the entire line, e.g., the Oldsmobile F-85 was supplanted by the Cutlass and the Ford Fairlane by the Torino.
A name change could also herald the repositioning of a car line. Perhaps the most obvious example is the Mercury Comet, which was replaced by the Montego after that line was moved from the compact to the mid-sized class. Product planners presumably wanted to give the line a more luxurious vibe than the Comet name evoked due to its origins as a fairly utilitarian economy car.
The Montego is an interesting example because it didn’t initially prove to sell as well as the Comet in its heyday. This raises the question: Did Mercury make a mistake by ditching the Comet name rather than trying to update its image? After all, the Comet usually outsold each of GM’s competing compact cars in the early-60s. That was an unusually successful nameplate for Mercury, which had typically trailed Pontiac, Oldsmobile and Buick in the full-sized field. Why not build on that success rather than throw it away? Establishing name recognition isn’t an easy thing to do, particularly for lower-selling brands.
By the above logic, independent automakers should have been even more ginger about replacing nameplates that had historically generated their best sales. Unfortunately, design consultant Brooks Stevens was a big proponent of name changes. He succeeded in convincing Studebaker to phase out the Lark and AMC to kill the Rambler (Langworth; 1979, 1993). Not surprisingly, Stevens was the guy that coined the term “planned obsolescence” (Adamson, 2003).
Where have all the iconic nameplates gone?
I don’t mean to suggest that renaming a car is always a bad idea. For example, Chevrolet was arguably correct to cut its losses on the Vega by renaming the remnants of its line Monzas in 1978. However, I do think that renaming has been overused. Ford arguably threw away one of its more successful nameplates when it replaced the Taurus with the Five Hundred. Meanwhile, among that automaker’s most successful vehicles are those with the longest-running nameplates — the F-Series pickups and the Mustang.
Of course, one could point out that the more successful the vehicle, the more likely that its nameplate will survive. That may well be the case with such long-running nameplates such as the Toyota Corolla and Honda Civic. Even so, both automakers have historically shown more discipline in maintaining nameplates than their American counterparts.
Share your reactions to this post with a comment below or a note to the editor.
RE:SOURCES
- Adamson, Glenn; 2003. Industrial Strength Design: How Brooks Stevens Shaped Your World. The MIT Press, Cambridge, MA.
- Langworth, Richard M.; 1979, 1993. Studebaker 1946-1966: The Classic Postwar Years. Motorbooks International, Osceola, WI.
- Ludvigsen, Karl; 2022. “The Naming Game.” Why Cars Are So Bad. Posted June 6.
ADVERTISEMENTS & BROCHURES:
- wildaboutcarsonline.com (Automotive History Preservation Society): Ford Five Hundred (2006)
- oldcarbrochures.org: AMC Matador (1971); Mercury Montego (1968); Oldsmobile Cutlass (1970); Studebaker Cruiser (1964)
A rose by any other name may smell as sweet…
…but junk is still junk no matter what name is attached to it.
AMC is interesting. It repeatedly changed the name of its intermediate offering from 1962 through 1971 – from Classic to Rebel to Matador – but it stuck with the Ambassador name for its full-size offering. When it was discontinued for 1975, the Ambassador had been the longest continually used nameplate in the industry. Yet neither car did particularly well in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Which suggests that the naming strategy isn’t as important as the competitiveness of the vehicle itself.
The Comet was the most successful “senior” compact in the early 1960s, but when the Meteor failed to gain traction in the intermediate market, Mercury tried to turn it into an intermediate. I’d suggest that the car’s early success as a compact worked against the continued use of the nameplate in that segment. Perhaps a better strategy would have been for Mercury to keep the Comet as an upscale compact, and roll out the Montego name for the restyled 1966 intermediates. Note that when Mercury re-entered the compact market in the early 1970s, it reused the Comet name.
The main challenge I see with changing a name is that it can take time to build public awareness of it. And in a crowded field of entries, that can make it harder to compete — particularly if one isn’t a first-tier brand. Because of this, I suspect that Mercury lost at least a little altitude initially when it switched to the Montego name. However, they were at least smart enough to keep the Comet as an entry-level series for a transition period.
AMC didn’t bother with such a transition between the Classic and Rebel names. In addition, during that time period the Rambler brand name was being demoted. Then, to top it off, the restyled 1967 mid-sized cars looked more like something from GM than AMC. In a very real sense AMC threw away its brand DNA. Quality-control issues didn’t help either, but unlike the Ambassador, the Rebel’s sales collapsed after 1967. That suggests to me that the name change failed.
Going back to Mercury, it would have been interesting if they had kept the Comet as a top-end compact that competed against the Dodge Dart. I would think the car would have done well in the late-60s and early-70s. The question is whether it would have overshadowed the Montego like it did the Meteor.
An other option for the Montego nameplate, it could have been used for a personnal-luxury coupe had Mercury arrived earlier in that field but then what would left for the Cougar nameplate? Interesting to note then the Montego monicker was first used in Canada for the Canadian Meteor line-up.
http://www.oldcarbrochures.org/Canada/Ford-Canada/Meteor/1967-Meteor-Brochure/index.html
At Dodge, the Dart didn’t seem to hurt the Coronet. The weakest link at Dodge in the 1ate 1960s and early 1970s was the full-size Polara and Monaco. The Coronet sold reasonably well.
The problem with the Meteor was that it didn’t seem to be much of a “step up” from a Comet. The larger Montego could have avoided that issue.
I have spent most of my adult life in the communications business, mainly shaping programming and promotional campaigns, largely for radio and television stations. One of the greatest virtues of branding is maintaining absolute continuity. Yes, Chevrolet was right to cut its losses by abandoning the tainted Vega nameplate, but I think of the losses of series nameplates that should have evolved: The Ambassador, the Rambler, the Bel Air, the Galaxie, the Le Sabre, the Roadmaster, the Special, the Dart, the De Ville, the Eldorado, etc. Ford fumbled the ball with the Five-Hundred / Taurus. Positioning a brand in the minds of consumers is a difficult and delicate process, regardless of the product. What has been interesting in recent years are the cars like the 2000-teens Dart and the 2008-2019 Cruze (in the U.S.) where really good cars were discontinued despite good branding and advertising. Too bad cars are evolving into indistinguishable pods that feature a huge logo on the grill, but are going to be virtually identical.
Toyota did some name changes in the past but I guess not everyone remember today the Corona, Cressida, Tercel and Echo nameplates. I would have wished then Toyota revived the Celica nameplate for the current GT86 tough.
Then others changed names to be more standardized, like VW who renamed the Rabbit, Golf because Rabbit was only used in North America while Golf was used worldwide, same with Mazda who used the GLC before going with 323.
As for Acura, dropping the Integra and Legend nameplates didn’t hurted too much althought some joked then the RL stand for “Ruined Legend” but it gived an opportunity for Lexus to steal the show.
It seems to me that there are really not that many car model names that have survived for very long periods of time. Even fewer that have remained on a similar model as the one the name premiered on. Think of the Corvette and the Chrysler New Yorker. While the Corvette has remained a sports car for it’s entire run, the New Yorker name has been applied to a myriad of bodies, although largely a higher end car.
I also think of body bloat (or mission creep) for cars that do retain their names. Compare a 1972 Honda Civic to a 2022 Honda Civic. One is a tiny commuter car and the latest model is a mid-sized family car. Or consider the Ford Mustang from 1965 to 1973, the car grew with every revision. However, cars like the Cutlass or the Camry have a good reputation and that’s what makes the name valuable. GM lost the thread with their small cars years ago and with a few exceptions (Cavalier) and when a new generation was developed it got a new name. On the other hand, some folks want a NEW car; new styling, new mechanicals and a new name.
In my opinion, the reputation of the car itself builds the (brand) name. If the car is great or widely acclaimed, the name will be used repeatedly. If the car is average, mediocre or bad, the name may not survive to the next generation. I think the reality is these days, there are few cars that are really outstanding, the vast majority are competent. But few really fire the imagination like they did one or two generations ago. I feel the general public has lost their love affair with their cars, they’re more of a burden than a boon. There are other things occupying our attention and cars have become appliance to the general public. (Hence all of the gray CUVs you see on the road…) It’s only the enthusiasts like ourselves who really care about this kind of thing.
Studebaker’s departure from the Lark name for the 1964 model year likely did not impact their sales decline. Brooks Stevens did a marvelous job redesigning the Lark line and with the rebadging, Studebaker was poised to move forward in a competitive market – but alas, it wasn’t to be. Unfortunately, rebadging and sheet metal refacing of a 10+ year old platform, despite a host of innovations, wasn’t enough to impress the press which seemed ingrained at writing Studebaker’s obituary in the car business. The lackluster launch/sales of the new 64 models, coupled with Sherwood Egbert’s departure, allowed the long delayed retreat from the car business by Studebaker’s board of directors thus becoming a self fulfilling prophecy.
Rebel? In the late sixties? I have read opinions that the Rebel name cost the company many sales due to that name. The older generation didn’t want a Rebel in their driveway.
And didn’t Oldsmobile once name practically their entire lineup some type of Cutlass? 🙂