Here’s an idea I would invite Indie Auto readers to test drive: Hudson’s demise had the biggest long-term impact on the U.S. auto industry of any independent automaker that merged or died in the 1950s.
The reason why is that the Hudson Motor Car Company had the most commitment to advanced engineering of the smaller automakers which survived World War II. Thus, Hudson plausibly could have done the most to push the Big Three into keeping up with foreign automakers when it came to engineering advancements.
From the late-40s onward, Detroit was so focused on styling that even basic improvements in a car’s roadworthiness and safety usually took a back seat . . . at least until the advent of government regulations and heightened competition from imports.
A classic example of styling over engineering was the original Ford Mustang. Road Test deadpanned, “Like most American cars, the Mustang abounds with new and startling engineering features carried over from 1910.” The magazine described the pony car as a “hoked-up Falcon with inadequate brakes, poor handling, and marvelous promotion” (Nader, 1966; p. 166).
Hudson placed an unusual emphasis on safety
The 1946 Hudson was hardly a revolutionary car — particularly compared to the legendary 1948-54 step-down — but it displayed hints of the automaker’s forward thinking. For example, Hudson carried over from pre-war models hydraulic brakes with a mechanical back-up. Richard Langworth noted, “This became mandatory in the U.S. — in 1967!” (1977, 1993, p. 9).
Also see ‘1961-70 Jaguar Mk X: When Hudson step-down met Wienermobile’
Llewellyn Hedgbeth (2023) explained how the “Double-Safe” brakes worked: If the regular hydraulic brakes failed, “at the bottom of the brake motion the driver could still apply emergency mechanical brakes to the rear wheels.” This feature was introduced way back in 1936.
Hudson’s brochures tended to emphasize the brand’s engineering advances, such being the first automaker to offer an all-steel body and move the gear shifter to the steering wheel. In 1946 the automaker also made a big deal about its “Master-Drive” semi-automatic transmission, which it described as “mechanically simple, compact” and “inexpensive.”
Unfortunately, in 1946 Hudson still used an awkward body design that originated in 1936. The car’s weirdest feature was outward-tilting side sheetmetal. This presumably increased shoulder room and allowed Hudson to brag about having a wider windshield.
The outward tilt, particularly in the greenhouse, gave the car a top-heavy look. Nor did it help that by 1946 the Hudson was on the tall and narrow side compared to many of its premium-priced competitors.
As a case in point, the Oldsmobile was three inches lower and wider; the Packard was five inches lower and three inches wider.
For 1946 Hudson abandoned the bottom-end of market
When Hudson restarted passenger-car production in 1946, it left the lower-end of the market. Whereas entry-level models in 1941 competed in price against the likes of Chevrolet, Ford and Plymouth, for 1946 the cheapest Hudson was instead priced similarly to a base Buick and Chrysler.
Also see ‘Was the Ford blitz to blame for the collapse of independent automakers?’
The lowest-priced 1946 Hudson, a Super Six business coupe, was priced at $1,481. The Commodore Eight became the brand’s highest-priced series. The four-door sedan featured in this story listed for $1,774, which was most comparable to a mid-level Buick or Chrysler.
What’s ironic about Hudson’s move upmarket is that in the 1920s its companion brand, the Essex, had been the most successful low-priced entry of any independent automaker.
Although the Essex lost altitude in the early-30s and was replaced by the Terraplane, Hudson continued to have a foothold in the lower-end of the market until World War II.
To varying degrees, Studebaker and Nash traded places with Hudson as brands that competed more directly with the Chevrolet, Ford and Plymouth. Beginning in 1939, Studebaker did so with the Champion, which could be called the granddaddy of family compacts. Meanwhile, in 1941 Nash introduced the 600, whose unusually light unit-body resulted in better gas mileage.
By 1941 Hudson was no longer the best-selling independent automaker — as it had been from 1933-36. Rather than learning from that experience, Hudson went upmarket in 1946 and again in 1948 with the new step-down.
Hudson invites WWII veterans to be ‘at ease’
After the war ended Hudson’s advertising shifted somewhat away from practical qualities to the comfort of its cars. For example, a 1946 brochure trumpeted all of the features that “can help keep you ‘at ease’ as a driver or a passenger.” The accompanying photo (see below) seemed to suggest that Hudson owners treat their car’s interior like their living room couch.
The back seat of a Commodore four-door sedan, with its 121-inch wheelbase, looks roomy enough for a variety of festivities.
The 1946 models had rather busy styling
The 1946 Hudsons were similar to the last pre-war models, which were produced in 1942. The main difference was an oddly inset grille.
The 1942-47 models had some stylistic advances, such as hidden steps. However, they also gained considerably more brightwork than the relatively clean 1941 models.
The chrome strip along the lower portion of the doors on the 1946 Hudson was arguably its worst feature because it accentuated the outward tilt of the side sheetmetal.
Other odd touches included the two-tone paint ending abruptly at the hood. And the upper-body chrome strip stopping well before reaching the tip of the hood — and punctuated by a downward-jutting triangle.
The designers came up with a variety of other stylistic doodads, from a streamlined hood ornament to the Hudson emblem, which lit up (Langworth, 1977, 1993).
All and all, the 1946 Commodore and its modestly changed 1947 successor were quirky but fascinating cars. They didn’t sell all that well but did tide Hudson over until the launching of the step-downs — which I have argued were brilliant but tragically flawed (go here for further discussion).
We can debate whether the Hudson Motor Car Company had a realistic chance to make it into the 1960s without either merging or dying, but I hope we can agree that if it had survived, the U.S. auto industry would have been the better for it.
NOTES:
Specifications and production figures are from the auto editors of Consumer Guide (2006), Automobile Catalog (2023) and Gunnell (2002).
RE:SOURCES
- Auto editors of Consumer Guide; 1993, 2006. Encyclopedia of American Cars. Publications International, Lincolnwood, IL.
- Automobile Catalog; 2023. “Full detailed specifications listing and photo gallery.” Accessed April 11.
- Gunnell, John; 2002. Standard Catalog of American Cars, 1946-1975. Revised Fourth Ed. Krause Publications, Iola, WI.
- Hedgbeth, Llewellyn; 2023. “Hudson Terraplane.” Second Hand Garage. Accessed April 11.
- Langworth, Richard M.; 1977, 1993. Hudson 1946-1957: The Classic Postwar Years. Motorbooks International, Osceola, WI.
- Nader, Ralph; 1966. Unsafe at Any Speed: The Designed-in Dangers of the American Automobile. Simon & Schuster, New York, NY.
BROCHURES & ADVERTISEMENTS:
- wildaboutcarsonline.com (Automotive History Preservation Society): Hudson (1946)
- oldcarbrochures.org: Hudson (1941, 1942, 1946)
I don’t agree.
The mechanical brake safety feature was a good selling point when hydraulic systems were in their infancy for most makes, by the time Ford finally got around to installing “juice brakes” the systems were reliable and the public was used to the idea. Cadillac, AMC and Studebaker all had the true dual master cylinder systems several years before being mandated.
The company never did have a proving ground and used Detroit streets, with cooperation from the local police, to make some high speed runs. GM, Studebaker and Packard all had modern proving grounds before the end of the 1920s! When other cars were coming out with independent front suspensions in the mid ’30s, Hudson’s semi-independent system was not up to par and was soon abandoned. Studebaker’s system was used in their car up to 1949 and was copied by Willys and Rootes Group (thanks to former Studebaker chief engineer “Barney” Roos). Automobile Quarterly even pointed out in a Ferrari article that Enzo “borrowed” the Studebaker system in his early cars!
Nobody l know of “borrowed” the Hudson cork-faced clutch, even though it was very smooth. I suspect that it may not have been a good fit in horse-power-happy late ’50s and ’60s.
Hudson also showed how NOT to produce a body structure. The “box section frame”, built into a lot of the body, was heavy (the lightest ’48 Super Six was basically 3500 pounds when Studebaker’s biggest sedan, the 123 inch wheelbase Landcruiser, weighed 200 pounds less). It was also very expensive to change (so no innovations like Kaiser’s Traveler or Studebaker’s Starlight Coupe…or a station wagon, which would have fit well with Hudson’s demographic. So they were stuck with a body for 7 years (!) that only got some attention in it’s last year. Studebaker used the ’47 body for 6 years but at least it had facelifts that the public could tell were different.
I could go on, but must attend the funeral of a car club buddy, unfortunately, and must get ready.
Welp, I could have used Hudson’s braking system on my 1961 Ford when the hydraulics failed at a decidedly inconvenient moment. That AMC and Studebaker switched to dual master-cylinder brakes a few years before they were required by the feds is an example of why I think that independent automakers were — and still are — valuable.
My point wasn’t to give Hudson a free pass for its mistakes, e.g., we discuss here some of the problems with the step down. However, I do think it fair to say that from an engineering standpoint it was the most ambitious early postwar car from an independent. Hudson was more willing to think out of the box than anyone else.
At at certain point it comes down to what kind of engineering does one consider most important. For example, I think that putting the passengers between the frame, thereby giving the car a lower center of gravity, was a more important innovation than, say, the Kaiser Traveler’s hatchback. And while the Studebaker Starlight was arguably one of the best-styled American cars of the 1950s, where were the engineering advancements? The “flexible” frame?
This kind of discussion can boil down to who is one’s favorite independent. So I wouldn’t expect a whole lot of agreement. I do hope that folks will think more about how in the postwar period advanced engineering was so often overshadowed by styling by the Big Three. The independents could have acted as a stronger counterbalance if more of them had managed to make it through the 1950s in decent financial shape.
I’m sorry to hear about your friend. A while back someone asked author Stewart Brand how he was doing, and his response was something like, “None of my friends have died lately so, I’m fine.”
Most of Hudson’s engineers and management had fixed ideas about the features of their vehicles. They stayed with oil scoops for the big ends much longer than others and indeed the oil-soaked clutch was a thing of the past.
Nor would they address the styling issue. They should have had a new basic shell in place by 1938 at the latest. Ironically in Frank Spring and his team they had designers fully capable of coming up with something new as the step-down well illustrated.
Karl, it’s interesting that Hudson’s last major redesign was in 1936 — the same year the Lincoln Zephyr came out. Lincoln also arguably kept it basic body for too long — until 1948. And unlike the Hudson, it didn’t even have a split windshield (go here for further discussion).
You mention Frank Spring. It’s too bad that AMC’s George Romney didn’t keep him around as, say, the head of an advanced design studio. His work sometimes needed a certain amount of “mainstreaming,” but he could be unusually visionary for his time.
Hudson put quite a bit of effort into diguising that shell’s 1936 origins. A friend had a ’39 112, but I hadn’t realized the body carried on. I’d always thought it had been changed for 1941, but now that you mention it, that hoodline is as awkwardly high as ever, and that windshield sure looks like it would have the same part number, so…..
One thing in favour of those curved bodysides/doors bulging out is that it gives more width inside where it matters (hip and shoulder room) and less where it doesn’t (head and feet). But that lower body chrome just looks so out of place. And the grille is awkward, unless you mount driving lights in there.
Getting out of the lower-price market after the war might have been just what was needed. Shame these guys weren’t running Packard! With the likelihood of supply shortages and people needing to replace worn out prewar cars, it made sense to manufacture high-profit products. When the Step-down came on stream, Hudsons became positively aspirational. Until the opposition came out with OHV V8s, anyway.
I like and appreciate your comments, Karl – and Steve’s – about Frank Spring. He deserved better than he got. Apparently the poor guy was apoplectic about the way the styling of the Jet turned out – not at all what he would have liked. The Italia was (according to Michael Lamm) a “gift” opportunity from the company so that Frank could show off the spectrum of his talent and not be remembered for the relatively-plain Jet which the executives wanted to look like a smaller version of the very decent’52 Ford.
A full-size Hudson from the 1920’s onward was a quality-built automobile, as were others in it’s class and l would be proud to have some of their models (not the ’46-’47s because of styling) in my garage. The step-downs were a sensational advancement, too. Acknowledged. But in hindsight, that car’s method of construction, (as well as betting the farm on the Jet) kept them, a relatively small auto maker (relatively small financially too) from affording to be aspirational when they needed to be again.
The most telling words are those of Roy Chapin when he said, in regard to changes and keeping up with competition: “They were usually reacting rather than anticipating. It was not all voluntary – they’d like to have done the other, but they were not equipped, in some cases emotionally or in some cases financially, to take the risk.” And ” The station wagon was such a major structural change that they just couldn’t afford to do it. There was a lot of ‘Jeez, we gotta do this now’ instead of ‘we’d better do this because two years from now we’re going to need the damn thing’. They were usually reacting rather than anticipating”. And Hudson had to buy their “necessary” automatic transmissions from a competitor. Lincoln did too, but Ford had much deeper pockets to correct the situation.
That sounds to me like a “lurching” commitment to engineering (and remember – no proving ground) and their big chance to “push the Big Three” with regard to foreign competition died in less than two years, and big fat bust with no long-term impact.
I rest my case – but reserve the right to re-open if absolutely necessary! lol
I have a question: Just how concerned was the industry with regard to foreign competition in the period before 1953? They developed some small cars – many of which did not see production – but was that only to satisfy a perceived need for a “run-about” for suburban wives?
My point wasn’t to put Hudson on a pedestal, but rather to point to the value of advanced engineering. Whatever Hudson’s many weaknesses and failures, it did take more engineering risks than any of the other postwar independents. That was true to the bitter end, e.g., with the Italia and the X-161 prototype. AMC could have carried on at least some of that legacy if management had been willing to see the Nash-Hudson combine as a true merger rather than a takeover. Alas, they didn’t.
Regarding your question, during WWII the Automobile Manufacturers Association did a study that reportedly found that car usage would change due to the growth of suburbs, the number of women drivers and two-car families. George Romney, who was at the AMA during this time period, saw these trends as opening up a market for smaller cars that got better gas mileage and were more maneuverable. As you say, “runabouts.” That said, I don’t get the sense that imported economy cars were a major part of the conversation prior to 1953. For example, Volkswagen didn’t start to sell in meaningful numbers until 1955, when almost 29,000 cars were registered in the U.S.
Nash was the most energetic in moving into smaller cars in the early-50s, both with the compact Rambler as well as the 1951-54 Nash-Healey sports car (and then later with the Metropolitan). Of course, Ford and Chevrolet eventually came out with their own two-seaters, which were arguably a response to European sports cars.
AMC could have carried on at least some of that legacy if management had been willing to see the Nash-Hudson combine as a true merger rather than a takeover. Alas, they didn’t.
Steve, how would they do that? I don’t mean in the boardroom, but in the showroom. The entire purpose of the merger was economy of scale. Running two main assembly lines at what, 40% of capacity would not work. Nash production for the period 1951-1954 was roughly double that of Hudson, and both company’s sales dropped over 50% during this period.* Sharing purchases of door handles and cigar lighters was not going to save them. Based on the production figures, Hudson was going to end up a badge engineered Nash. Could they have done more differentiation? Sure. The Big 3 all had considerable inner sheet metal and chassis sharing during this time, and I’m sure some shared body panels here and there. However each marque had its own look. It could have been done. Nash had a Pininfarina prototype done that was more low slung. There is also a photoshopped Hudson version as a fastback. But with the merger happening when it did, AMC did about as well as they could, although Hudson’s sales took a nosedive in 1956 and both senior models collapsed in 1957 with the bulk of the sales now Ramblers.
*I based this on Wikipedia’s article US Automobile production. I didn’t quote numbers as I did not know if these were for calendar year or model year. or even if Nash and Hudson counted production the same way. The numbers may be off here and there, but the percentages tell the story.
I have briefly discussed in a number of stories how AMC could have done a better job of carrying over Hudson features. For example, it would have made more sense to me for the 1957 Rambler Rebel to have been dubbed a Hornet and given features such as the “Dual-Safety” braking system and apply a “Twin H-Power” label to a souped-up AMC V8 (go here for further discussion). Those would have been pretty low-cost and easy moves that could have at least kept alive the Hudson legacy rather than throwing it in the trash can.
Of course, if Spring had been kept on (e.g., running an advanced design studio), AMC could have integrated some of his less costly ideas into future products. Note that I’m not talking about preserving the Hudson as a stand-alone brand — that was arguably doomed to failure.