Propaganda "Dois Hemisférios a Exigir Mais Caminhões Studebaker", Studebaker, Brasil

 

Propaganda "Dois Hemisférios a Exigir Mais Caminhões Studebaker", Studebaker, Brasil

Propaganda

Propaganda "Studebaker Land Cruiser", Studebaker, Brasil

 

Propaganda "Studebaker Land Cruiser", Studebaker, Brasil

Propaganda

Studebaker Dictator Phaeton 1935, Estados Unidos

 

Studebaker Dictator Phaeton 1935, Estados Unidos
Fotografia


First introduced in 1927, the Studebaker Dictator arrived at a time when the company's production and sales were booming. Initially known as the “Dictator Six,” by mid-1927 it was just the Dictator. Despite financial challenges—including the Great Depression, which put the company into receivership by early 1933—the car would be produced until 1937, with a total run of more than 350,000 Dictators. Uncommonly seen today, the remaining Dictators represent the fine styling and solid engineering that made Studebaker an early standout in the automotive world.
The 1935 Dictators were extremely stylish and capable machines for the period. New for 1935 was a longer, narrower grille set at a rakish slant and topped with a “bird in flight” mascot. Completing this stylized front end was a newly designed pair of bullet-shaped headlight buckets and a swept V-shaped bumper. The car was powered by an 88-horsepower, 205-cubic-inch, six-cylinder engine backed by a three-speed, synchromesh, manual transmission. Built on a 114-inch wheelbase, Dictators had four-wheel hydraulic brakes, and an optional Planar front suspension was available to improve the ride and road handling.
The example offered here is a highly rare example of a left-hand-drive phaeton. In the United States, consumers were typically offered just a single open model, a roadster, but the Phaeton style was offered in Australia in 1935. Studebaker shipped the car’s chassis to Australia where it was fitted with a right-hand-drive Phaeton body with side curtains. The reasoning for shipping just the chassis to Australia was to reduce the weight and the freight cost and eliminate the possibility of body damage during shipping. Very few of the Phaeton bodies made it back to the United States as all of them were built in Australia. Later returned to the United States, the car was converted to left-hand drive as it is now presented.
The stunning deep red Dictator Phaeton offered here is highly comfortable and nicely optioned with bumper guards, radio, heater, cigar lighter, wheel trim rings, and the desirable Planar suspension. The car is said to have benefitted from a recent, extensive, mechanical refurbishment. Finished in a gorgeous color combination with superb Art Deco styling and a capable engine, this incredibly rare Dictator Phaeton will be supremely appealing to connoisseurs of pre-war automobiles.

Studebaker Dictator Custom 2A Sedan 1935, Estados Unidos

 

Studebaker Dictator Custom 2A Sedan 1935, Estados Unidos
Fotografia


Modern cars are fast, smooth, silent, efficient, and well-connected to the information superhighway—but they’re boring. Why would you choose one when there is literally the entirety of automotive history from which to select an alternative? It’s no wonder the average driver can’t wait to become a passenger in his own $40k self-driving bubble. A 1935 Studebaker Dictator is none of that.
Fast? It will do all legal speeds, though its 88-hp, 205-cu.in. flathead six-cylinder and three-speed manual transmission mean it doesn’t squirt up to 60 mph in 8.3 seconds like your crossover—and it’s happier cruising the 55-mph two lanes than gobbling up miles of 70-mph interstate. I guarantee you’ll have more fun getting up to speed, however, since you’re actually a part of the process, working the floor-mounted pedals and gear selector, listening to the engine rpm change and the whine of the unsynchronized first gear (so much for “silent”) as you gather speed from a stop. It’s 17 seconds of enjoyment, instead of 8.3 of silent nothingness.
The engine in our subject car is a rugged sort. When owner Wallace “Keck” Crouthamel of Spencerport, New York, bought it, he was told, “It runs fine, it runs beautiful.” Although that is seemingly two different levels of condition in one, it wasn’t too far from the truth. “It would run with a prime,” Keck recalls.
“I’d had it a couple years,” Keck told us, when we photographed his car at the Studebaker Drivers Club Northeastern Zone Meet in Rutland, Vermont, “but it was not regularly running until this year, because there was stuff I had to do.”
That “stuff” was what Keck characterizes as “Old Cars 101”: Fuel, air, and spark. The biggest problem initially was the fuel system, which wasn’t reliable until the line from the tank had been unplugged using braided-and-coated aircraft wire, the fuel pump rebuilt, and the tank itself de-sludged from years of sitting—perhaps the most trying part of the process, because the tank came out in a mere 30 minutes, but took three days of careful positioning to reinstall.
“A lot of people tell me I’m crazy, but I actually didn’t need a lot of parts. The difficulty is figuring stuff out as you go. I didn’t want to just take things apart.” Luckily, Keck’s not alone in facing the Stude, both because he’s a part of the SDC and because, as he says, “I have friends who are good old-car mechanics.” There’s your information superhighway— though the car itself is better for escaping our always-connected society than staying in touch with it while underway.
Smooth? Well, it’s got leaf springs, a solid rear axle, and an early independent front suspension that incorporates a transverse leaf spring doing double-duty as the upper control arms. That system was called Planar and cost $35 more than the standard front axle; it raised the cost of a Dictator Custom four-door sedan like this from $770 to $805, a price more on par with Hudson’s Big Six than a Ford, Chevrolet, or Dodge. The Planar IFS was designed by Studebaker’s well-known engineer Barney Roos, and was good enough to last through 1949. It’s smooth, yes, but not numb. You use both hands on the wheel (one occasionally doing other duties, like shifting), both feet on the pedals, and you keep your eyes on the road since there’s no computer to keep you from drifting out of your lane or tailgating.
As for handling, we didn’t shove it into any corners at twice their posted speed or anything, but Keck also looked completely relaxed during his normal driving duties. Possibly helpful is that he’s been through the first-year (1934 used cable-operated mechanical brakes) hydraulic-drum braking system twice already.
“First, I rebuilt the wheel cylinders,” he recalls, “but during a sudden stop the brakes went soft. Then I had to redo the master cylinder.” Dialing in the adjustment was a bit of a trick, however, as instead of the familiar star-shaped adjuster, a special tool is required to fine tune the shoe-to-drum clearances. Thankfully, a friend with a De Soto had the same system. “Now it has brakes and they’re pretty good, but they might need further bleeding.”
There’s nothing strenuous about driving the car and where I was, ensconced on the lovely, soft original mohair of the spacious back seat, the ride was positively relaxing—notwithstanding the excitement of the surroundings. Heating and ventilation are handled by completely mechanical means. It was too warm for the heater, but the rolled-down side windows and tip-out windshield provided more than adequate breezes to keep us cool while underway. In fact, at one point Keck had to adjust the windshield closed slightly, as we were a bit too well ventilated at highway speeds.
The body of the Studebaker, if not the unquestioned style leader of 1935, is at the very least an excellent example of automobile design in the era where the industry’s initial streamlined designs started embracing the pontoon fender. Parked outside the Century of Progress exhibit in 1933-’34, it would have been a very up-to-the-minute car. It would have still looked good in the parking lots of the San Francisco and New York World’s Fairs in 1939-’40. As to how it compares with the greige crossover, it certainly goes without saying that nothing since the advent of the 5-mph bumper has really been styled as well as anything from the 1930s—inside or out.
Decorative streamlining (dare we call it “speedlining” like the railroads used to?) aside, the Studebaker isn’t particularly efficient in the modern sense of the term. The experience of the Chrysler and De Soto Airflow had taught ’30s auto stylists that consumers weren’t ready for scientific streamlining, they just wanted their cars not to look like bricks in the wind. Of course, any streamlining is really only effective at relatively high speeds. Around town, the simpler, lighter Stude probably does better on gas than the 3,500-pound crossover. Even if this one had the optional overdrive (co-developed by Chrysler and Studebaker engineers along with Borg-Warner, which would manufacture the units for the next 40 years), at 70 it wouldn’t be very much fun. You could cross the country in a car like this, easily enough, but do it on the two-lane blacktop as intended. There’s nothing to see on the super slab anyway.
On his way to the zone meet, Keck himself kept off the high-speed New York Thruway, selecting to make the 329-mile trip on Route 29 instead.
“I kept it under 50,” he says, “because that’s what it likes. I didn’t want people held up because of me and I still have to go back home again.”
Who is Keck and why does he own this patinated example of a provocatively named Studebaker from 15 or so years before he was born?
“I’m a fan of what they call orphan cars: Hudsons, Packards, et cetera, always caught my eye. If I ever win the lotto, the next car I’d get would be a Nash. If I’m driving through the country and I see a car of this age, I stop and take a look.” He found this one near Gregsville, New York.
“I stopped to look at this one and although it was unrestored, it was all there and intact: doors, upholstery, and wiring. It was much further ahead than the basket cases I’d seen people restore and I figured that if I bought it, it would be a driver instead of a project.”
It would seem he was correct, and some of the credit goes to what a solid car the Studebaker Dictator actually was.The folks in South Bend evidently had only the dimmest idea of what was going on in Italy in 1927. It’s the only way to explain how they settled on renaming the former Standard Six as Dictator—not really a compliment even then, though perhaps some dim admiration for making the trains come on time appealed to the efficient organization men at Studebaker.
Supposedly, the idea behind the name was to convey how Studebaker’s then-cheapest model dictated the standard by which its competitors would be judged. The Dictator, then, was not The Standard of the World, but at least meant to be the unquestioned leader of the low-price, six-cylinder field (later the mid-price, six-cylinder field as low-priced cars moved away from four-cylinder engines).
A decade later, a couple years after Mussolini thumbed his nose at the League of Nations in Ethiopia, and shortly after Hitler tore up the treaty of Versailles, Studebaker quietly resurrected the Commander name and substituted it for Dictator.
Controversial naming aside, the Dictator was a good car in 1935 and it’s still a good car today. Studebaker may be gone, but its passionate fans remain, making those cars excellent to own even now. Keck’s going to take advantage of those resources further for this car, with a windshield-wiper motor rebuild and a second taillamp planned for the near future.

Studebaker Dictator Custom Sedan 1937, Estados Unidos

 

Studebaker Dictator Custom Sedan 1937, Estados Unidos
Fotografia


1937 was the last year for the Dictator nameplate. With Hitler and Mussolini gathering power in Europe, 'Dictator' became politically incorrect and so the name was dropped. 1937 was, however the first year Studebaker saw the influence of master stylist Raymond Loewy, who did a beautiful facelift of the existing 1936 models. With the Great Depression still somewhat at hand, pricing for the Dictator was quite low this year.
Except for a re-paint, this Studebaker is completely original. It was purchased new in Lancaster, Ohio. The second owner purchased it at an estate auction and placed the car on blocks, where it remained for years until acquired by the current owner.
In 1937, Studebaker models featured a new front-end design. A new feature was built-in dual window defrosters. The Dictator models were powered by an in-line Studebaker-built six-cylinder motor that developed 90 horsepower.
This was the last year Studebaker marketed the Dictator model - it was no longer politically correct. In 1938, the model became the Commander.

Studebaker Dictator Business Coupe Custom 1937, Estados Unidos

 

Studebaker Dictator Business Coupe Custom 1937, Estados Unidos
Fotografia


85 hp, 169.6 cu. in. L-head inline six-cylinder engine, three-speed synchromesh manual transmission with overdrive, solid front axle with Houdaille shock absorbers, hypoid rear axle, and four-wheel hydraulic brakes. Wheelbase: 116 in.
The Studebaker brothers Henry and Clem established a wagon shop in South Bend, Indiana, in 1852 with a total capital of just $68. Migration to the western territories, the Indian Wars, and orders from settlers and the United States Army for covered wagons brought them great success; the company was grossing $350,000 annually by 1867. Joined later by three more brothers, the company offered its first electric vehicle in 1902 and its first gasoline-powered car by 1904.
Fast forward to 1932, when its offerings comprised three series in ascending order—Dictator, Commander, and President. Having retooled its entire lineup in 1936, Studebakers for 1937 received a streamlined facelift. In addition to a more pointed grille, an alligator hood opening from the front and extended hood louvers were added to what was already a handsome design.
Among new features for 1937 were available dual-warm air defrosters (something we take for granted today), a flat 18-gallon fuel tank that afforded more trunk room, and rotary door latches with safety catches for extra security. Interestingly, for the second year in a row, no convertible models were offered. This also marked the final year for the Dictator series—even then it was considered politically unacceptable, and the name was gone after 1937. Studebakers were highly regarded for their contemporary styling, especially during the Thirties.
This unique Business Coupe can best be described as a mild custom. While it holds true to its 1937 origins both inside and out, it has been fitted with a 1953 Studebaker six-cylinder engine and three-speed manual overdrive transmission. The interior is finished in camel vinyl that was recently installed and is virtually brand new and never used. Air conditioning has also been fitted for additional comfort. Otherwise, the vehicle appears essentially as-built in 1937.
It was constructed by a lifetime Studebaker Driver’s Club member as his interpretation of a vintage Studebaker with “modern” mechanicals. He treated the car to a frame-off restoration, maintaining its stock exterior appearance. The interior, carpeting, and headliner were finished by the current owner. Regardless, the Loewy good looks remain intact and true to his original form, though with a little more function.