From the monthly archives:

February 2010

Long Island Revisited

15 February 2010

in Bahamas

Deans Blue Hole (Bahamas Min­istry of Tourism)

2-6 Feb­ru­ary 2010— Four days of bicy­cling and tour­ing Long Island, Bahamas with Arring­ton McCardy and John Birtzen, while Bar­bara Lang­worth drove the SAG wagon (sports & gear)–a clapped out, righthand-drive Mit­subishi wagon that didn’t let us down. We stayed at Arrington’s cousin Marvin’s “Bistro Gar­den” at Deadman’s Cay, a lit­tle B&B with nice accom­mo­da­tions if occa­sion­ally spotty on hot water. Deli­cious omelettes or Bahamian grits and what­ever (includ­ing sar­dines, if you insist) for break­fast and our choice for din­ner. We opted for grouper, seafood pasta, one night out (our anniver­sary; mut­ton and steak at Har­bour View in Clarence Town) and more of Marvin’s wife’s seafood pasta Sat­ur­day night, made with gar­lic and oil and piles of craw­fish and conch. Trans­port, accom­mo­da­tions and food cost the two of us under $800.

The Tropic  of Can­cer runs through the north­ern end of the island, so for most of the time we were in the Tor­rid Zone–and tor­rid it was. Blaz­ing heat all four days, and we were beat at the end of each day, sleep­ing ten hours a night. Sat­ur­day wound up with a cold front that brought a tor­ren­tial down­pour (unfor­tu­nately it did not extend as far north as Eleuthera). Next morn­ing we flew LI-Nassau-Governor’s Har­bour via Bahama­sair, and landed in cool breezes which are with us yet. (The bikes returned a week later via the Island Link to Hatchet Bay, Eleuthera, and home. We don’t need to see a bicy­cle for a few days…)

Tues­day 2 Feb­ru­ary: Up at 4am to catch the sturdy wood-hulled Cur­rent Pride at Cur­rent, Eleuthera, four hours to Nas­sau, com­plete with the usual pea-shucking, hymn singing and non-stop chat­ter from Bahamian word­smiths. In Nas­sau, a four-hour lay­over, then the overnight Island Link to Simms, Long Island, six­teen hours. Both trips on smooth seas. Note: the first shed on the right on the dock at Potter’s Cay dis­penses large por­tions of $9 conch salad, made with live conch while you wait. Bought baked chicken for onboard din­ner. “The movie” was Meryl Streep and Alec Bald­win in “It’s Com­pli­cated” (rec­om­mended). Slept the rest of the voy­age in cozy bunks.

Wednes­day 3 Feb­ru­ary (45.5 miles): Arrived Simms, L.I. at 9am with barely enough water under the shallow-draft “Island Link” to nudge into land­ing. Mar­vin arrived with the SAG wagon for Bar­bara and we biked north twelve miles to the Adder­ley Plan­ta­tion, whose walls, hearth and win­dow open­ings mostly still stand. Local his­to­ri­ans have done a great job cleav­ing away the bush and label­ing all the sur­round­ing plants with com­mon and Latin names and list­ing their prop­er­ties as bush med­i­cine. Adder­ley began in 1790 and is still in the hands of descen­dants, who hope to keep the remains as they are for his­tory. Back down to Deadman’s Cay in the after­noon against a stiff head­wind blow­ing unnat­u­rally from the south. Only one pot­cake encounter, and we out­ran the mutt.

Thurs­day 4 Feb­ru­ary (43 miles): Long Island is much flat­ter than Eleuthera, a lot less traf­fic, only 4000 pop­u­la­tion, less spec­tac­u­lar scenery but far more hand­some archi­tec­ture, espe­cially churches. Not as much scenic vis­tas or shore­line vis­i­ble from the road, but very friendly locals. We rode south to Dun­mores, look­ing for another plan­ta­tion lost in the bush, then back to Clarence Town, the “cap­i­tal.” After lunch, we swam in Dean’s Blue Hole, a giant fun­nel, the deep­est blue hole in the world, with sap­phire blue water in the mid­dle. It goes down 663 feet in the mid­dle of a shal­low cove no more than wad­ing depth.

Hamil­tons Cave

Fri­day 5 Feb­ru­ary (15 miles): A morn­ing trip to the Blue Hole, of which we couldn’t get enough. Found many tellin shells unscathed by the surf, includ­ing rare sun­rise tellins. Back to Deadman’s, then rode south to Hamil­tons, about seven miles away, to meet Leonard Cartwright for a guided tour of Hamil­tons cave, which is on his prop­erty. This is three times the size of our own Hatchet Bay cave and vir­tu­ally with­out graf­fiti or other human destruc­tion, unlike ours—incidentally, this is true of Long Island gen­er­ally. Peo­ple take more pride in their houses, how­ever hum­ble. The cave must have been a walk-in condo for the Arawak Indi­ans, with huge gal­leries and “ceil­ing holes” open to the sky, giv­ing plenty of light and ways for fire smoke to exit. There’s a fresh­wa­ter spring, spec­tac­u­lar sta­lac­tites, and some sta­lag­mites have formed benches and tables. See pho­tos on the Long Island web­site.

Sat 6 Feb (20 miles): Arring­ton vis­ited a friend up north while John, Bar­bara and I stowed bikes in the car and rode to the end of the island. A stiff south­west­ern wind was blow­ing across the beach, and it was too early for Susan­nah Mar­t­in­bor­ough, an island char­ac­ter, to open the “Goat Pond Bar.” We  drove back to aptly-named Hard Bar­gain; while Bar­bara found another cave, we unloaded the bikes and pow­ered north, think­ing we’d have the wind behind us. What we got was the wind off our left flank, grad­u­ally work­ing around until it was in our face again. No nasty pot­cakes this time. What kept us going was the prospect of another help­ing of conch salad, which we’d had the day before, from road­side ven­dor, Sean Cartwright, who uses all the right stuff: live conch, green pep­pers, onions, toma­toes, goat pep­pers for zest, sour and sweet orange and lime juice, $10 for a big foam bowl. Just superb.  We logged 125 miles slow­ing down from last year’s pace, mak­ing more time to take in the sights. Still we didn’t do all we wanted to do, like explor­ing the cause­way and outer banks road on the east­ern side.

Click here for last year’s visit.


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Why Studebaker Failed

15 February 2010

in Automotive

I have your book Stude­baker 1946-1966 orig­i­nally pub­lished as Stude­baker: The Post­war Years. As an employee of the old com­pany at the end in Hamil­ton, Ontario,  it brought back mem­o­ries of many old Stude­baker hands: styl­ists Bob Doehler and Bob Andrews were good friends about my age.

I am look­ing for­ward to the last chap­ter dis­cussing how Stude­baker went wrong, espe­cially since I also have the­o­ries. It would fun to com­pare notes. I am on a panel in Phoenix/Glendale next June and made a Pow­er­Point pre­sen­ta­tion to the Avanti Club in 2006. My grand finali was your a quote from your book: “For many years, Ray­mond Loewy Asso­ciates would be the only thing stand­ing between Stude­baker and dull mediocrity.”

P.S. Like you I  owned a 1962 Gran Tur­ismo Hawk, a sur­pris­ingly impres­sive car. I drove it back and forth to Hamil­ton when we were work­ing on the last 1966 pro­duc­tion Stude­bak­ers. I put a ’53 Star­liner deck­lid on it and ’54 Star­liner wheel cov­ers; I thought each addi­tion was an improve­ment. —B.M., via email

1962 Gran Tur­ismo Hawk: Brooks Stevens' ulti­mate facelift of the great Stude­baker hard­tops and coupes, it could be traced back to the 1953 Starliner.

Thanks for the kind words. My GT Hawk was one of the best cars I ever owned: fast yet easy on gas, styl­ish, fun to drive. It leaked oil and the famous “flex­i­ble frame” was a lit­tle creaky, but it was a sat­is­fy­ing car, if overly sus­cep­ti­ble to the dreaded tinworm.

At the end of my book is a list of what Stude­baker did wrong, beginin­ning with chair­man Paul Hoff­man accept­ing every union demand after World War II. James Nance, the last pres­i­dent of Packard, who pur­chased Stude­baker in 1954, told me: “The trou­ble with Stude­baker was that they wouldn’t take a strike. Every­body else took strikes after the war and rea­son­able com­pro­mises were reached on wages and ben­e­fits. Stude­baker didn’t, and they never caught up.”

What Nance and Packard didn’t know when they bought Studebaker—but learned to their hor­ror when Packard’s accoun­tants finally got into the books—was that Studebaker’s break-even point by the mid-Fifties was 50,000 or more cars higher than their vol­ume in their best year on record. A Stude­baker designer told me he once priced the 1953 Star­liner using Gen­eral Motors costings—and found that GM could have sold the iden­ti­cal car for $300 less (which was a lot more then than it is now).

Stude­baker proved the alba­tross that dragged Packard down with it, mak­ing it impos­si­ble for Nance to find the finances to bankroll the highly com­pet­i­tive all-new 1957 line that might have allowed Studebaker-Packard to go on longer than it did.

1953 Stude­baker Star­liner: Designed mainly by Bob Bourke, it was prob­a­bly the sin­gle most out­stand­ing Amer­i­can auto design of the Fifties, a trib­ute to Ray­mond Loewy's vision and eye for tal­ent. (raymondloewy.org)

And yes, Ray­mond Loewy, for  all his pos­ing as the actual  cre­ator of styling tri­umphs like the 1953 Star­liner and 1963 Avanti, was the key to the cars being as disct­inc­tive as they were. He had an eye for tal­ent and hired and directed fine design­ers, such as Bob Bourke (Star­liner) and Bob Andrews, John Epstein and Tom Kel­logg (Avanti).

Studebaker’s sales and mar­ket­ing peo­ple blunted those good designs by inept plan­ning and pro­mo­tion. In 1953, for exam­ple, they built a sur­feit of sedan mod­els, find­ing to their shock that peo­ple mainly wanted the beau­ti­ful Star­liner hard­tops and Starlight coupes. Their pro­duc­tion mix was the exact oppo­site of what the pub­lic desired.

1964 Lark Wag­o­naire: Brooks Stevens had the clever idea for a slid­ing rear roof, enabling bulky items to be hauled eas­ily. (autoweek.com)

But Studebaker’s styling was con­sis­tently good. Try­ing to save the rump com­pany in the Six­ties, Pres­i­dent Sher­wood Egbert hired Brooks Stevens, who deftly facelifted the Lark and Hawk, and came up with novel ideas like the sliding-roof Wag­o­naire sta­tion wagon—but these were all reskins of the 1950s mod­els. Stevens and Loewy then offered  excit­ing ideas for all-new designs for 1966 and beyond, but by then it was too late. Stude­baker shut down its main fac­tory in South Bend, Indi­ana, in 1964, and the Hamil­ton Ontario plant closed after build­ing the last 1965-66 mod­els. But no—Studebaker didn’t have to fail.

Ray­mond Loewy, Sher­wood Egbert and the 1963 Stude­baker Avanti: basis for Loewy's new-generation Stude­baker pro­pos­als for 1964 and beyond.


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The Problem with Speech Recordings

February 1, 2010

I’m cur­rently analysing a few of Churchill’s speeces for an aca­d­e­mic paper. After lis­ten­ing to the audio files and read­ing along I found a lot of para­graphs which were left out in the radio speeches. It’s espe­cially evi­dent in “Their Finest Hour” from June 18th, 1940 where only a fifth of the text made it to the radio. At [...]

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