I am writing you today because I have recently acquired a vehicle which you penned a very nice feature on for the publication Car Classics in June of 1978. I know it is a long shot but I am hoping you may have some memory of this and could pass along any information to me regarding your experience with putting the piece together, as I am doing my best to shore up the history on what I feel is a unique and important car. The car is a dove grey 1940 Lincoln Zephyr Continental convertible cabriolet and was owned by the late Marguerite Madison of Pasadena, California at the time that you wrote the piece. Her husband, Robert Madison, is said to have purchased the car new. An interesting aside here is that Mr Madison’s lifelong occupation had been as personal assistant and secretary to Ada Wrigley, wife of Chicago magnate William Wrigley. The photographer for your piece was a gentleman by the name of Neil Perry, btw.

Again, I do understand that this was a long time ago but even the smallest detail that you may recall from this experience could be of value to me and to the history of the car.
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David, That is indeed a long way back! I pulled out the issue and remember the article, but regret to say I never laid eyes on the car, and wrote that appreciation of it long-distance. Dean Batchelor later handed the editorship over to me and we had fun, for awhile. Coincidentally, “Neil Perry” was a pen name for the late, great photographer Rick Lenz. Poor Rick also worked for a publisher who erroneously thought he owned him, and threatened lawsuits if Rick put his name on photos for any other magazine. I promised to wear a red tie the day that man died, but my beloved old editor, Don Vorderman, talked me out of it, and as usual, Don was right…. All good wishes and thanks for the kind words. —RML

What interests me is the assertion that Loewy fired Exner when he learned of Exner’s moonlighting in secret. When did this happen? You indicate the design was still evolving in 1946, but Cannon and Fox in Studebaker: The Complete Story (1981) state that Loewy and Exner “split up” (they don’t say “fired”) in early 1944. I believe your story is more factual, but it’s hard to imagine Exner working days on a design he knew had the wrong dimensions, while moonlighting at home with the real dimensions. It seems much more likely that Exner simply left the Loewy group when he was recruited by Cole, and that Loewy fabricated the firing story because he didn’t win the competition. Bourke’s account seems to corroborate Loewy’s, and says nothing about Cole giving the Loewy people the wrong dimensions. It seems unlikely that Cole could have kept the Loewy group in the dark about the correct dimensions throughout the design process. There still seems to be a lot to sort out in this story. The standard version, basead on your interviews with Loewy and Bourke, suggest it’s true, but leaves me wondering.
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Ralph, thanks for the kind words. Coincidentally, I have just published “Virgil Exner, Father of the Tailfin” in Britain’s The Automobile (August 2024), which will appear on this website in a month or so. I’m sorry if the design story sounds muddled, but there is no difference between Fox/Cannon and me on the timing. Exner DID leave the Loewy Group at Studebaker in early 1944, and WAS fired. But as Bob Bourke told me, he was then immediately hired as a freelance designer by Roy Cole in competition with Loewy’s team, now headed by Bourke, and the basic model chosen for 1947 was Exner’s. He filed a patent for it in January 1949.

It’s true as you say that the 1947 Studebaker embodied ideas of both the Loewy Group (under Exner through early 1944) and Exner’s moonlighting afterward. Ex remained a Studebaker design consultant through 1949. By then Cole, nearing retirement, was trying to get Exner placed elsewhere, since Loewy was still entrenched at Studebaker, where his team developed the 1950-51 bulletnose models. Ex joined Chrysler shortly after K.T. Keller handed over as President to Tex Colbert in November 1950.

We need to bear in mind that Cole’s too-narrow dimensions were given to both the Loewy Group and Exner. Cole had this weird idea that cars should cost only so much per pound. Exner, now moonlighting, realized his dimensions were impractical and talked him into more liberal measurements. The Loewy Group also saw the need, but Ex had the jump on them. As Bob Bourke told me: “We did two full-sized plaster automobiles when management…said they were too narrow. In a matter of a week, we cut them right down the middle and expanded them out to where the Exner jobs were, but by then the Exner model was being tooled for production.”

As to how people could undercut each other as they did, we must write that off to human nature. Ex was ambitious, irked that Loewy got too much credit for his team’s work. Cole didn’t like Loewy, but his original dimensions were what he told both sides he wanted. Bob Bourke, a kind and decent man, understood each side in the argument, but was caught in the middle. RML

The article was part of a series about Milestone Cars and the Milestone Car Society, which I joined at that time. The publications and articles were amazing. Somehow it appears, despite your best efforts, that the MCS has withered. What happened and what remains of it? Still seems like a great idea. Very much appreciate your many incredible contributions to the collectible car community.

John, thanks for the kind words. I put my money where my mouth was and also had a ’48 Custom Eight (named “Fat Albert”), but never had the money to restore it. But now I own a ’50 Eight coupe with only 50,000 miles, smooth as silk and a great road car, though without that massive 356 straight eight. See cover story in “The Packard Cormorant” a year ago.
We started the Milestone Car Society as an ecumenical all-makes club for distinctive post-WW2 cars, a kind of continuation of the Classic Car Club for prewar greats. It worked for awhile, but the one-make clubs were fast improving, and collectors of postwar cars tended to be more one-make-minded than we thought. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”—RML

Pinches produced 500 medals in 22ct (.916 fine); 200 in 9ct (.375); 736 in silver, and 1421 in bronze. All were 50mm in diameter. The dies were presented to the British Museum and there is one at the Smithsonian. We referred Mr. Line to several Churchilliana dealers and collectors

Over a decade ago I posted stray recollections of Joe Frazer in three parts starting here. It’s rather dated and incomplete, and I plan to reprise and add material in one or two parts, so you might like to subscribe and be notified when it’s up. —RML

I was interested because I hosted many Churchill tours and have driven 80,000 miles in Britain. I appreciate what you say about “editorial constraints.” They may be mild compared to some of the publishers I’ve had–and reviews. “Any review is a good review,” my best editor always said.

About the West Country–that’s largely true, though the fleet drama at Portland deserved mention. Moreton and Lympne are not about WSC either, but you qualify Lawrence and Sassoon, and rightly so. Their influence was far less than Marlborough’s—in Churchill’s biography we read the great war speeches aborning. (There is an interesting story about how WSC misidentified the Duke’s birthplace, and how his daughter Mary was reluctantly persuaded that Papa had muffed that one….)

I complete missed “human conquests” for “human conflict” in “The Few” speech on page 144; went right by me. The bunker at Uxbridge is still a moving place. As for acknowledgements, sure. RML

Stormy, tempestuous, competitive and obstinate, perhaps the most remarkable aspect of his character was that he always evoked affection, even from those who disagreed with him.’ The last point was often associated by later writers with the crowds and cheers in Brighton in 1946, when his car could barely get through the streets to reach the various places of ceremonial, because of that spontaneous affection. But the message had subtly changed since 1947, for when the freedom of Brighton was actually conferred the emphasis was on the link between the ordinary people’s war record and Churchill’s lead. By 1964-5, it had become a much less complicated matter of the homage paid to a great man by his admirers.55 Portsmouth proved a rather different story, largely because Churchill had visited far more regularly, often in the course of his connections with the Royal Navy…