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| Room at the Top: The Pontiac Star Chief and Class Consciousness in America |
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| Written by Aaron Severson |
| Monday, 10 December 2007 18:46 |
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For more than half of its 80-year history, the Pontiac Division of General Motors has tried, with varying degrees of success, to present itself as the hotshot of the GM line-up, with an advertising tagline proclaiming, "We Build Excitement." The credibility of that slogan has varied a great deal over the years, but it's hard to argue that Pontiac has been responsible for many of GM's most interesting and exciting cars, from the GTO to the Firebird Trans Am. THE SLOAN SYSTEMWhoever said America was a classless society never heard of Alfred P. Sloan, and probably wouldn't have liked it much if they had. When Sloan became president of General Motors in the early 1920s, he famously decreed that GM would offer "a car for every purse and purpose."
On the face of it, one might take that as a straightforward commitment to providing a widespread product line, but what Sloan's model really served to do was to codify the emerging class system of the mass production era. Those at the bottom rungs of the socioeconomic ladder, the workers and the clerks, would buy a Chevrolet, GM's cheapest model. Those at the highest tiers, the new gentry of the industrial age, bought Cadillacs, which they might or might not drive themselves; actory limousines with divider windows to separate passengers from chauffeur were a regular part of the Cadillac line-up well into the 1980s. In the middle, GM offered a host of mid-priced makes of ascending size, price, and prestige. For the doctor, the lawyer, the bank president, there was Buick; for the senior engineer or senior manager, the college-educated, white-collar employees, there was Oldsmobile. Below that, in the gap between Olds and Chevy, was Pontiac. THE BIRTH OF PONTIACPontiac had not been part of the original plan. It was the sole survivor of an ill-fated, mid-1920s plan to divide the class/model hierarchy into even finer gradations by adding "companion makes" for each of the middle-class divisions. At the time GM's lower-middle-class division was Oakland, a formerly independent automaker in which GM had acquired a controlling interest in its early years. Oakland was based in Pontiac, Michigan, and had originally been a spin-off of the Pontiac Buggy Company, so its new companion make was called Pontiac. In size and price, it was intended to fill the gap between Oakland and the cheaper Chevrolet.
 Pontiac's 268 cu. in. (4.4 L) straight-eight dated back to 1933; the six used in lesser Pontiacs was developed from it in 1935. In a Chieftain, the eight made 122 hp (91 kW) and 222 lb-ft (300 N-m) of torque. Star Chiefs got 127 hp (95 kW) and 234 lb-ft (316 N-m), thanks to a higher compression ratio. The more powerful engine wasn't necessarily the best choice -- although its 7.7:1 compression ratio was modest by the standards of the time, it was at the limit of what the flathead could support, and it tended to knock on hard throttle, even with premium gasoline. Fuel economy was a bit under 14 mpg (17 L/100 km) in mixed driving. The first Pontiac debuted in 1926. It was not a great deal bigger than a Chevrolet, but it had a six-cylinder engine, where the Chevy had a four. In the economic boom of the late 1920s, the Pontiac's reasonable price tempted many buyers who would otherwise have bought a Chevy. It proved very successful, and 500,000 had been sold by 1929. The onset of the Depression hit most of GM's pricier divisions hard, and Oldsmobile and Buick's companion makes, Viking and Marquette, were dropped after 1931. Oakland's sales dropped precipitously, but its cheaper brother was in much better shape, so GM management concluded that Pontiac was the more viable of the two. In 1932 Pontiac became a stand-alone marque. Its sales recovered handily, and it settled into a comfortable sixth place in industry sales, occasionally reaching as high as fourth. Pontiac's survival was aided by a decision to increase its commonality with Chevrolet. It now used the A-body shell of the Chevy, stretched in both wheelbase and overall length through the use of longer frame side rails and unique rear fenders. Pontiac still had its own engines, transmissions, and other hardware, but the shared body cut its production costs through improved economies of scale. Since its price remained the same, about 15% more than a comparable Chevy, its profitability increased commensurately.  This is a 1954 Pontiac. The three stars on the rear fenders ordinarily would mark it as a Star Chief, with Chieftains wearing a Indian-head medallion in this spot. This car's rear fenders and deck seem too short to be an actual Star Chief, which would have a noticeably longer tail by a full 9 inches (229 mm); we believe this is actually a Chieftain wearing pieces of Star Chief trim. A Chieftain Eight was 202.7 inches (5,149 mm) long on a 122-inch (3,099-mm) wheelbase, weighing about 3,900 pounds (1,765 kg) at the curb. CHEVIACWhile Oldsmobile and Buick each offered certain technical novelties -- automatic transmission, Compound Carburetion -- Pontiac eschewed innovation. General manager Harry Klingler and chief engineer Ben Anibal were reluctant even to offer Hydra-Matic, although when they finally relented in 1948, it was ordered by more than three-fourths of Pontiac customers. Pontiac would remain relentlessly conservative well into the middle of the 1950s.
By 1954, the cheapest Pontiac, the Chieftain Special Six two-door sedan, cost $1,968, $130 more than a comparable Chevrolet Bel Air, Chevy's most expensive trim series. If you stepped up to Deluxe trim in your Pontiac, which buyers did in a ratio of more than 14 to one, the price gap rose to $234. If the Chieftain was not quite posh enough, there was also the top-of-the-line Star Chief, in DeLuxe or Custom trim, starting at $2,301.  The Pontiac had a unique dashboard not shared with the Chevy. It has full instrumentation, reasonably legible in its presentation, something that was rapidly disappearing by this time in favor of cheaper warning lights. The Chieftain seven-tube radio was a popular option. What did you get for your extra money? Despite sharing the same body as the Chevrolet, the Pontiac was noticeably bigger. Chieftains were 202.7 inches (5,149 mm) long on a 122-inch (3,099-mm) wheelbase, making them 6.2 inches (157 mm) longer and about 200 pounds (90 kg) heavier than a contemporary Chevy. Star Chiefs were 213.7 inches long on a 124-inch wheelbase, adding an additional 70 pounds or so. All of the Pontiac's extra length was aft of the rear door, so it had no great advantage in interior room. Passenger space was within a fraction of an inch of Chevy in most dimensions, although the long-tailed Star Chief at least offered a cavernous trunk.  This car is missing its rear fender skirts. Rear skirts were technically optional (like most everything else on the car), but very common. Since this car appears to have most of the other pieces of the $27.30 Appearance Group"of which they were part, the owner presumably didn't like them; there are several signs of mixing and matching the trim pieces from different models. The Moon-style wheels are definitely not stock. THE SLOW LANEIn the early 1950s, there was a general expectation that moving up the model/price hierarchy would get you improved performance, but Pontiacs were little, if any, faster than Chevrolets. Buyers could choose either a six- or eight-cylinder engine, both inline, flathead designs dating back to the mid-1930s. The Pontiac six was similar in size and output to the Chevrolet "Stovebolt Six," which was of similar vintage. Both made an identical 115 horsepower (86 kW) on manual transmission cars; automatic Chevys got 125 hp (93 kW), while automatic Pontiacs made do with 118 hp (88 kW). Pontiac's straight-eight, which was optional on Chieftains and standard on the Star Chief, wasn't a lot better, offering a meager 122 horsepower (91 kW), 127 hp (95 kW) on Star Chiefs. It was a smooth, reliable engine with strong low-speed grunt, but it strained against the Pontiac's nearly two-ton heft. In May 1954, Motor Trend clocked a '54 Star Chief from 0 to 60 mph (0 to 97 kph) in 17.4 seconds, with an actual top speed of about 93 mph (150 kph), compared to 18.1 seconds and 96 mph for a '54 Chevy Bel Air automatic. The only performance advantage the Pontiac offered over the Chevrolet was that Pontiac's four-speed Dual-Range Hydra-Matic was much more flexible than Chevy's two-speed Powerglide, although it was not as smooth.
In keeping with the fashion of the time, the Pontiac was not any better equipped than its plebeian brother; amenities like heater, outside rear-view mirrors, back-up lights, and turn signals cost extra, just as they did on a basic Chevrolet. Most Pontiacs that left the factory had Hydra-Matic, but it added $178 to the tab. By 1954, both power steering and brakes were optional, as was air conditioning, but you could order these on a Chevy, as well. Pontiac did offer an unusually comprehensive accessory list, ranging from a radio and external steel sun visor to a prismatic traffic-light viewer (a little mirror that let you see traffic lights cut off by the windshield header), "Autoronic Eye" automatic headlight dimmer, a Thermaster refrigerator, and even a Remington portable electric razor. These options were relatively cheap individually, although adding a full load of what Pontiac advertising termed "Tremendous Trifles" could raise the total price of the car by more than 25%.  The most gaudy, tasteless, and fascinating of the Pontiac's many optional accessories is this dazzling illuminated hood ornament. The stylized image of Chief Pontiac adorns this car in many places, none so eye-catching (or eye-popping) as this one. The yellow plastic section lights up when the headlights are on.  In 1950s America, not even a cartoonish image of colonial domination was complete if it didn't also have wings, suggesting that old Chief Pontiac is about to be launched into space, like the doomed Laika, the Russians' first canine cosmonaut. The Indian motif faded away rapidly after this, for which we all may be thankful. SIBLING RIVALRYPontiac's advertising slogan at this time was "Dollar for dollar, you can't beat a Pontiac," and the Pontiac did have a better reputation for quality, reliability, and resale value than Chevrolet. Mostly, however, what you got for your extra dollars was the visual confirmation that you had bought a bigger, more expensive car -- signifying to the world that you could afford a bigger, more expensive car. When you could afford an additional $200 stretch beyond that, you would graduate to an Oldsmobile or a Buick, then eventually to a Cadillac, exactly as Sloan had planned.
The fly in the ointment of Sloan's meticulous product hierarchy was that the same social-climbing instincts it sought to instill in customers also infected its divisional managers. None of them were content to remain in their appointed slot; each coveted the prestige of the makes above them and the volume of the ones below. In 1976, former Pontiac engineer Jim Kaufeld, who was involved in the design of the '53-'54 models, told writer Ken Gross of Special Interest Autos that Pontiac intentionally, even gleefully, stole customers not only from Chevrolet but from Oldsmobile and Buick. Perhaps it was only fair; Chevrolet's top Bel Air model was cutting into Pontiac's territory, as was Buick's down-market Special. By the mid-1950s, that internecine competition was cutting sharply into Pontiac's volume. Squeezed from both sides, Pontiac sales fell from 418,619 in 1953 to 287,744 in 1954.  Pontiac's famous "Silver Streaks" were introduced for the 1935 model year; both Frank Hershey (head of the Pontiac styling studio until 1935) and Virgil Exner (who took his place) have taken credit for them. The streaks hadn't always been applied to the rear deck; from 1941 to 1948 they were applied only to the hood. They would be doubled on the '55-'56 models, running along each side of the hood, causing critics to declare that the Pontiac looked "like a fat man wearing suspenders." The Silver Streaks were deleted for good in 1957. BUNKIE TO THE RESCUEThat Pontiac survived this crunch was partly attributable to the introduction of its first V8 engine in 1955. Although Oldsmobile and Cadillac had had modern, OHV V8s since 1949, Pontiac's management hadn't been in any hurry to bring out one of their own, although they'd been developing various designs for years. In fact, Pontiac could have had a V8 by the 1953 model year, but its chief engineer, George Delaney, had asked for two additional years to perfect the design.
The new Pontiac "Strato-Streak" V8 engine was similar in concept to the Chevy V8, although it had some significant differences, as well. It started off at 287 cubic inches (4.7 liters), slightly more than the old straight eight, but it had 180 gross horsepower (134 kW), a significant 53-hp (40-kW) improvement. An optional "powerpack" bumped that to an even 200 hp (149 kW). The extra power was enough to lop more than five seconds off the 0-60 mph (0-97 kph) times and make the Pontiac an honest 100-mph (160-kph) car. The second factor in Pontiac's survival was the installation in 1956 of Semon E. "Bunkie" Knudsen as the division's new general manager. Bunkie knew that the stodgy, conservative, school-principal Pontiac was in danger of extinction. Knudsen made one significant symbolic gesture -- removing Pontiac's trademark chrome "Silver Streaks" -- and began a major push to establish Pontiac as GM's excitement division, hoping to reach out to younger buyers who had never considered Pontiac before. There was a posh, limited-edition Bonneville for 1957, with then-novel fuel injection; a host of "Tri-Power" engines; and then an aggressive push into stock-car racing that started in 1958 and culminated in the mighty "Super Duty" cars of 1962. When Bunkie left Pontiac to run Chevrolet in late 1961, his successors, Pete Estes and John DeLorean, carried on this tradition, which took Pontiac to third place in industry sales by the mid-1960s. IDENTITY CRISISThe blurring of the class boundaries that began in the fifties only got worse in the seventies and eighties, exacerbated by upper management's continual push for greater and greater inter-division commonality, as well as pressure from the sales organization to give every division a version of nearly every new product. By the early eighties, each division had a full line of cars, from compacts to full-size station wagons, and they had begun to use identical engines, transmissions, and other hardware. There were fewer and fewer tangible reasons to choose a Buick over an Oldsmobile, other than a vague cultural memory that the Buick name had once been more prestigious. Today, most of GM's products are so similar across divisions that there is serious question whether there's still a reason for the remaining divisions to exist.
The automotive class structure Sloan identified still endures, although that structure is no longer dominated by GM products. The tiers once occupied by Oldsmobile, Buick, and Cadillac makes are now dominated by a mixture of Japanese and European cars. There is just as much snobbery in the distinction between a Hyundai, a Volvo, and a Mercedes as there once was between a Chevy, an Oldsmobile, and a Cadillac. The prestige American brands appear to have been pushed permanent off of the upper rungs of the ladder, replaced by Mercedes, BMW, and Lexus. The trouble with basing a consumer product plan on class, rather than technical merit or outright value, is that in any class system -- even one as financially driven as Sloan's -- status is far easier to lose than to gain. Pontiac, in the 50 years since the original Bonneville, has continued to try to pitch itself as the excitement-builder, although today, as in 1954, it has fallen behind the pace of its rivals, and there is little of substance to distinguish it from Chevrolet. Pontiac has risen from the ashes before, more than once, but it will need another dramatic shot in the arm if it is to do so again. # # #
NOTES ON SOURCESOur sources for this article included "Pontiac Eight: 'The Most Beautiful Thing on Wheels'" by Arch Brown, from Special Interest Autos #111, May-June 1989, and "All Things to All Men: 1953 Pontiac Custom Catalina" by Ken Gross, from Special Interest Autos #32, January-February 1976, which is the source of Jim Kaufeld's remarks on inter-division competition; both articles are reprinted in Terry Ehrich, ed., The Hemmings Motor News Book of Pontiacs (Hemmings Motor News Collector-Car Books)
 (Bennington, VT: Hemmings Motor News, 2001). We also consulted "MI Tests the 1950 Pontiac" by Tom McCahill, Mechanix Illustrated, April 1950; Walter A. Woron, "Pontiac Motor Trial," Motor Trend, September 1951; Ted Koopman, "Speed Age Tests the 1952 Pontiac," Speed Age, March 1952; "Testing the New Dual-Range H-M Pontiac," Motor Trend, April 1952; Pete Molson and Walt Woron, "Pontiac Eight," Motor Trend, May 1953; "Plush New Pontiac Is Longer and Stronger," Popular Science, January 1954; "Star Chief Heads Pontiac Line for '54," Automobile Topics, January 1954; Jim Lodge, "Heap big car for little wampum, that's the Pontiac Star Chief," Motor Trend, May 1954; and "Pontiac Road Test," Motor Life, January 1955, all of which are reprinted in R.M. Clarke, ed., Pontiac Limited Edition: 1949-1960 (Cobham, Surrey: Brooklands Books Ltd., 1999). We also referred to Alfred P. Sloan's My Years with General Motors (New York: Doubleday, 1963).The title of this article was suggested by the Adam Ant song "Room at the Top," written by Adam Ant, Marco Pirroni, and André Cymone, which appeared on his 1990 album Manners & Physique. It was previously the title of a 1957 novel by John Braine (which may have been the inspiration for the song), which was adapted for film in the UK in 1959.
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In 1956, my dad got a pale green '53 Pontiac with the straight 8. It replaced a '49 Frazer for which he had (understandably) gotten tired of chasing parts at junk yards. It was his first car with automatic, and he was really enthusiastic about it. For weeks he was telling people, "You just step on the gas and it goes, you step on the brake and it stops!"
I was pretty young and not much of a gearhead at the time, so I didn't notice if it was a Chieftain or a Star Chief. It had the light-up hood ornament, which I thought was pretty cool. My dad was a fairly hard-nosed, practical chemistry Ph.D. He once said that he didn't think everyday items such as toasters and typewriters should be made to look pretty because of the cost of doing so. I'm sure that if he'd bought the car new, he'd have had no time for that hood ornament!