Dissect A Dash #3: The American Graffiti John Milner 1932 Ford Coupe

There is one cinematic car that has produced more tributes, clones and nostalgic re-creations than any other, and that's the famous "Piss-Yellow" 1932 Ford five-window coupe driven by Paul Le Mat's character, John Milner in the 1973 movie, "American Graffiti".

The main attraction is that it was the pound puppy of hot rods; a mish-mash of parts that made it singular. Shortened grille, odd engine components, and most complicated of all, a dash comprised of mismatched gauges.

Paul Le Mat in "American Graffiti"

Also part of it's everlasting appeal is that the car wasn't a direct copy of any famous rod; instead, it was an individual variation of hot rods that ran around in the early-1960's. And as such, it had a true home-built feel to it, from the backyard paint job to the period popular engine. This was a car that you could look at on the big drive-in movie screen with your date Wanda and think to yourself "I could build that! And then maybe Wanda would let me get to third base..."

But the dash was a puzzler. It was a stained-glass effect; disparate pieces making up a very cool whole. 

The insert was a Stewart Warner panel available through many of the mail-away speed shops of the era. It was referred to as the "200 Special", and was really a top-end display blend for street and race.

The top picture is from a California Speed Shop circular, the bottom two are from a 1950's Newhouse Speed Equipment catalog.

 The gauges across the Milner dash were fuel, oil, amperes, tachometer, speedometer, vacuum, water temp, and water temp. Three were winged gauges, including the tachometer just like what is pictured for example in the Newhouse picture above, with an odd speedo that we'll delve into further.

There are those (like me) who grew up later than the era represented in the movie, and never saw that type of gauge display. But they were used quite a bit back then, as this "mini-mag" How To Hot Rod magazine from 1961 points out.

 

HOW TO HOP UP, January, 1961

The set-up is like seeing the twin of the American Graffiti Coupe, even down to the column collar key ignition and similar-style Chevy Impala steering wheel.

Whoever has this coupe now, has the Milner coupe before Milner did!

So what was the "unique" feature of the dash that has been a stumper for so long? The speedometer. We've had great closeup shots of it, including this screenshot from the Milner coupe that was dropped into the movie "The California Kid" as "B" roll footage.

Here's where it gets sticky. This is an unusual Stewart Warner gauge. The font is different, the gates (or hashmarks) and the range for that bezel is way off their standard. Plus it's sporting a one-year-only 1932 Ford speedometer needle. So what was it?

I was contacted by a Milner Coupe builder who had heard of my gauge background, and he was hell-bent on making his coupe as accurate as possible, down to each gauge. Well, the other gauges are off the shelf by SW, and even though they can be spendy (especially the Wings insignia tach), they were available with patience and cash.

Not so the speedo. Why was that? It was Stewart Warner, it wasn't an oddball MPH, so why weren't there any around?

It's because that gauge was just super, super-rare. Here's a live one recently spotted online

But, it could also be put together with a combination of gauges.

Here was my first clue in this Sherlock Holmes of Speed Equipment quest. Scanning Ebay as I do, looking for the unusual and also for the entertainment of those guys selling gauge panels "bought from an old guy who pulled it from a 32 in his barn" (funny, you bought some of those same pieces in that dash from me two weeks ago) that are filled with mismatched gauges from different decades, I came across this...

A crappy picture of a speedo I hadn't seen before. The reason? It was itself a rebuild-with-wrong-parts gauge. Here's the clues.

The face is for a 1932 Ford. Look at the low number of wheel numbers, five on top and three on the bottom, and the window slants for the odometer and trip meter. They are the same as what we see on the typical 32 Ford speedo.

And here's a closer view on another Deuce gauge face, notice how deep the slant is surrounding that trip meter roll...

So, if it's a 1932 Ford face, why is it 120mph, and why does it have that needle? My first questions, too. Here's the scoop. That needle, and that case, could have been added later. I confirmed this by looking up the serial numbers on the face, and cross-referenced them to Stewart Warner...in Canada.

Therefore the 120 is a gennie SW face, not a custom face. I knew that size of face mounted in a front-mount case size, the opposite of the 32 Ford bezel, and that is what was used in the movie car. A typical example of that type of bezel and it's size is this vintage Allard speedo...

 

A front-mount, smaller 2-7/8" face. Just like the case and bezel set-up for the Milner speedo. 

Here's the timeline. At some point, someone had the 120 face, and possibly the innards designed for a 1932 Ford back-mount case. They switched it into a front-mount case, kept the 1932 Ford needle, and stuck it next to the Wings tach. And there you have it.

I went ahead and cobbled together the American Graffiti coupe speedometer for that guy, and this is what it ended up looking like...

Not too shabby, if I say so myself. Another mystery solved, and another piece of hot rod trivia you can pull out of your back-pocket to impress Wanda at the drive-in. 

And maybe you'll get to third base. Thank me later.

Concept Car Dash From The 1950's

The 1950's was a hot bed of futuristic style concepts. Here's a period design by GM, I believe, that perfectly captures that mix of "Space-Age" forward-thinking yet still seems frozen in amber as a distinct mid-Century creation.

(A lot of words to describe a "Jetson" car!)

Briggs Cunningham: Artist, Or Gifted Mechanic, Or Both?

Briggs Cunningham is a hero of mine. Here's a man who was born of privilege (his father was a wealthy financier) who could have spent his lifetime driving expensive cars and chasing women; instead, he spent it building expensive cars and chasing the Italians at Le Mans. Oh yeah, he also won the America's Cup Yacht Race. What did you do today?

He raced Ferraris early in his career, and integrated the melding of power and lighter weight into his own design. Briggs actually was the first in America to import and race a Ferrari, a car that was fierce, yet somehow adorable after Cunningham "personalized" it...

 

We know he was a helluva driver (in the 1952 24-Hours of Le Mans race, Briggs drove 20 of the 24 hours!) and he certainly appreciated the top of the line cars, so what does the Cunningham C1 and C2 tell us about the man and his vision?

Let's take a look at the overall design.

Briggs Cunningham beside his C1

It's a good-looking car; muscular, sporty and aggressive. A striking design for it's time.

And also very similar to another car... the 1949 Ferrari 166 MM Touring Barchetta

Briggs Cunningham was more familiar than any American with race Ferraris. He went to Italy, he raced against Ferrari, he imported the first. So to think that he didn't know about this stunning roadster is inconceivable. It was exhibited at the 1949 Paris Show, and was the first car designed by Enzo in house with Barchetta (roadster) coachwork by Carrozzeria Touring of Milan. And on top of that, it won the 1949 event that Briggs chased his entire racing life, the 24-hours of Le Mans.

But still, if you're going to pay tribute, make sure you emulate the baddest of the bad.

Where were the distinctions made? First off, the engines, of course. Cunningham went with the most American of power-plants, the Cadillac 331. This was the initial concept, but Cadillac ended their development partnership quickly when they realized they were running low on spare engines (according to Brigg's account) and Briggs switched to the hemi. They were new, powerful, and Chrysler offered them to Cunningham at 40% off, the best deal Briggs could get. Ferrari ran their own V12.

The interiors were very similar. Looking at both, it's as if they were made by the same company. Each features a pair of bolstered seats, plain but highly-functional.

But it was in the functional yet striking dash detailing where the Italians pulled away. The Ferrari builders were no fools, and went with an established gauge company, Jaeger. Jaeger had a fine tradition of top-quality instrumentation and time-keeping for Jaguar and others.

Ferrari 166 dashboard gauges

Cunningham went the hot-rodder route. His is a simple display filled with Stewart Warner gauges.

 This is really as plain as you can get. A machined billet steering wheel, tiny shifter and look, a radio! This is the kind of set-up that hundreds of backyard builders were putting in their cars, and it's no wonder that Briggs went with upscale foreign instruments later on. Here we have straight-up Stewart Warner Wings insignia gauges, except, and we have seen this before, a Sun tachometer. I'll put together a larger piece on why this was happening at this time down the road.

So what's the verdict? Was Briggs Cunningham a gifted mechanic? There's no doubt that his early partnership with mechanical genius Alfred Momo produced some top-shelf race cars, and though they never could get the flag at Le Mans, they prevailed almost everywhere else at one time or another.

Was he an artist? This is hard for me to say, being an ardent admirer of this racing giant, but I'd have to say no. His design is a pale image of the great Carlo Felice Bianchi Anderloni 's concept , and the details, like in the dash and interior, which usually show the mark of a master, are mundane and pedestrian. It's no surprise that he quickly realized that to sell more of them, he needed to update his look, and he later upgraded with a concept from Vignale of Italy, based on the great Michelotti's design. They cost $2700 apiece for the bodies, which Cunningham sold complete for $9500 for the coupes, and $10,500 for the convertibles.

After a brief run of five years, the increasingly higher expense of manufacture (they had to buy black-market steel from France during the Korean War) and the IRS laws limiting the non-profit status of the Cunningham "hobby" conspired to shut down the "C" series. But Briggs showed it could be done, that there was a passion for an American representative in the road race/tourer field, and he paved the way for the Shelby Cobra line and others to produce world-beaters in speed and style. 

He's still my hero.

Thanks to my good friend Geoff Hacker, the impresario of all things Fiberglass, for the high resolution Cunningham shots, and be sure to check out his definitive site, Forgotten Fiberglass.

Dissect A Dash #2: The 1957 Italian Supercars; Ferrari Superamerica - Maserati 3500 GT, Lancia and Fiat Abarth

There are truisms, and there are myths. And the car designers of Italy in the 1950's created both.

1957 Abarth Fiat 750 Zagato

 America at the time was obsessed with big cars, with big fins and bigger motors. 
Their signature race was Daytona, with Chrysler 300 letter-cars swapping paint with the Pontiac flock. 

But Italy was all about the Mille Miglia, and the Grand Prix. Their racer dreams were of twisting curves on the public roads and the winding duels on the European track circuit. Detroit built brawn; Turin designed beauty, and where the pride of America was the chest-thumping Flying Mile at Bonneville, Ferrari was lifting the mantle from Bugatti and creating the ultimate in speedy sports cars.

The mid-fifties was a dry-well in dashboard design for Detroit.  Uninspired, deeply practical, the gauges were interchangeable between the brands. You could stick a Chevy speedo in a Ford and no-one would  blink. Except to wipe away the tears.

But there was something going on overseas. In 1957, Italy was an arms race of style and speed, each manufacturer snatching up the hottest artists to slap their imprimatur on their House's latest offering. Men like Sergio Scaglietti, who poured out his vision of tuck-and-roll leather and the tiniest of fins imaginable, perhaps a two-finger salute to the Exner crew at Chrysler?  

1957 Chrysler New Yorker

1957 Ferrari Superamerica

And the biggest salute of all? The last Scaglietti Superamerica on the auction block went for over two-million. That's not in Lira. A top-of-the-line, pristine Chrysler letter car from the same year wouldn't touch six-figures. 

So sure, much of it is the scarcity, the performance, and the magical Ferrari nameplate, but while Detroit was installing couches and record-players in their cars, Enzo commissioned supple leather and a clean, timeless layout.

Diamond tuck-and-roll? Sure, why not. If it was good enough for Sam Barris in Hollywood, Scaglietti wasn't going to turn up his nose at it.

And dat dash.

Enough toggle switches to operate Coney Island, and more warning lights than Sophia Loren sightings in downtown Rome after "The Pride and the Passion".

This is an interior that says, "We're ready to race, but it may take a couple of hours to find a sucker, so just sit right back in this bolstered cockpit, with soft, stiched-lambskin under your ass and a rocket panel display in front of you..."

1957 Ferrari Superamerica interior

Here's a color shot of that big-bucks survivor. The styling looks as good today as 55 years ago... but if there is one area that restorers will fall short in, it's the bits. The jewelry. The switches and the lights are different, because that's a shortcut that 90% of the judges and lay person will gloss over.

So that's what all-out, Italian-style luxury looks like. What about the contenders to the throne, like Maserati?

Let's take a look at the smooth 3500 GT.

1957 Maserati 3500 Grand Touring

This was a car built for show and go. A sedate exterior matched with a growling big block engine, with all of the amenities required for those long country drives. 

Plenty of space for the bambinos in back

1957 Maserati 3500GT Dashboard

As you can see, there is a little more elegant simplicity here than in the Ferrari "cockpit of danger". A racing sports steering wheel, tachometer, speedometer and accessory gauges, and that's pretty much it. This was the cigarette boat of luxury cars; straight-ahead speed with no muss, no fuss.

This dash is reminiscent of the Lancia line. The Zagato-penned Appia GT is similarly configured, with a compact trio of main gauges.

1957 Lancia Appia GT by Zagato

The layout is almost a cross between the Ferrari and the Maserati. It is a simple gauge cluster, with a row of control switches.

Its' brother, the Aurelia, is a bit on the more "high-strung" end of the spectrum. It's a marvel of engineering.

1957 Lancia Aurelia

 And inside the set-up is strictly business.

 Everything, every gauge, IS RIGHT THERE, enabling you to adjust conditions at a glance.

 

You only need take your eyes off the road for just a split-second to determine your speed, reach for a switch, or check a light. The driver controls all. The passenger just sits back for the ride.

Speaking of rides, this would be one you'd never forget - squealing your tires around a sharp curve, probably only two of still making contact with the pavement, in a race-prepped Fiat Abarth 750 Zagato "Bubbletop". 

I once had an old guy tell me, "You know, if I could have any car in the world, I'd want a racing Abarth". I was like, right, NOT a 1962 Ferrari GTO? But you know what, you could drive an Abarth, and not worry about taking a 2-million dollar ditch crash. And that's really the whole point. Who cares if you own a Bugatti Atlantic if all it means is staring at it through your climate-controlled, bullet-proof plexiglass storage cube?

1957 Abarth Zagato 750

The Abarth was lab-created to run, like a foal from Secretariat. Lightweight, stiff and nimble, it twitched across the road like a waterskipper. It had great rear-engine balance and acceleration.

You'll notice, once again, how tightly-grouped these gauges are. Just a hair below sight-line, even visible through the open steering wheel-design, so that when you were taking that bend at 70mph, your peripheral vision was still part of the equation.

The Fiat 600 Abarth was a romp. It was a micro-race car with macro excitement. On the whole, it's slightly nerdy presentation belied it's nefarious purposes.

Who's going to move over and let this guy pass? Intimidating isn't the word that comes to mind. Pesky, maybe.

But it was loaded for (a very small) bear. That 140kmh speedo isn't there as a joke.

Neither is that tucked down tachometer near the shifter. Talk about being on the down-low; this was such a sleeper that your wife would have thought you were buying the car for her. Again, it's all about styling, with that Abarth wheel and simple dash, just like you're getting ready for the Italian Job, Part II !

1957: The year the Italians Got It Done!