The Swedish automaker Volvo is best known for its solid (and often square) sedans and wagons, but starting in 1961, it also offered a sleek two-door sports coupe called the P1800, best known for its role in the 1960s TV version of The Saint. This week, we look at the origins and evolution of the Volvo P1800, its 1800S and 1800E successors, and its ultimate metamorphosis into a sporty two-door shooting brake, the 1972–1973 Volvo 1800ES.
THE BIRTH OF VOLVO AND THE P1900 SPORT
The trade name Volvo (the present indicative form of the Latin volvere, to roll) was first registered in May 1915 as a brand name of the Swedish ball bearing manufacturer Svenska Kullagerfabriken (SKF), but it was not until around 1924 that SKF sales manager Assar Gabrielsson started thinking seriously about developing a native Swedish car. Automobiles were becoming increasingly popular in Sweden at the time, but many imported models were ill-suited to local conditions, which included extremely harsh winters and very poor roads.
SKF management was receptive to the idea of entering the automotive business and in August 1926, Gabrielsson established a new car-making subsidiary company, AB Volvo, with Erik Gustaf Larson, a former SKF engineer who had been at Galco since 1920, as technical director and executive vice president. A factory was established in Lundby, a northwestern suburb of Gothenburg (Götenborg), and series production of the first Volvo first passenger car, designed by Larson, began on April 14, 1927.
Initial sales were below expectations, but grew at an encouraging rate, prompting Volvo to add a six-cylinder model in 1929. By 1941, Volvo was independent of SKF and its business had grown to include commercial trucks, marine engines, and buses as well as a controlling interest in the aviation engine manufacturer Svenska Flygmotor. Although Volvo had not yet established a presence in the U.S., the company did well in Sweden and many export markets; its 100,000th vehicle rolled off the line in August 1949.
While Volvo cars were soundly engineered and robustly built, sex appeal was not really part of the program. The postwar PV444 sedan could challenge many contemporary four-cylinder sports cars for performance and handling, but its bulbous semi-fastback shape was not likely to cause many sleepless nights in the carrozzerias of Turin. By the early fifties, Volvo dealers were asking for something sportier-looking to entice customers into showrooms, where buyers could be won over by the fine road manners and excellent build quality of the sedans.
In 1953, Assar Gabrielsson made an extended visit to the United States, where he became intrigued with the possibilities — and low tooling costs — of fiberglass bodies. After touring the production line for Chevrolet’s new Corvette, Gabrielsson paid a visit to Bill Tritt’s Glasspar, in Montecito, California, maker of the Glasspar G2 and Woodill Wildfire kit cars as well as the early prototypes of the Kaiser Darrin. Gabrielsson negotiated an agreement with Glasspar to develop a plastic-bodied sports car for Volvo based on the running gear of the PV444.
By the spring of 1954, Volvo had four prototypes of the new car, styled by Bill Tritt and riding a new lightweight tubular frame developed by Volvo engineers Raymond Eknor and Eric Quistgaard. Dubbed P1900 Sport, it was bigger than English sports cars like the Triumph TR2 or MG TF, sharing the suspension, three-speed gearbox, and 1,414 cc (86 cu. in.) engine of the PV444 sedan. The P1900 was shown to the press and dealers that summer, but various technical delays meant that production cars were not available until January 1956.
While the production-spec cars were sturdier than the early prototypes, even Volvo engineers worried that the P1900’s structural integrity was sub-par, particularly compared to other Volvos. The final straw came when new managing director Gunnar Engellau took delivery of chassis number 49 in April 1957. A few days’ driving was enough to convince Engellau that the P1900 was unacceptably flimsy and had the potential to do Volvo’s reputation more harm than good. He ordered production ended in May, after only 67 cars had been built. About two-thirds were sold in Sweden, but perhaps 20 ended up in the U.S., where Volvo had recently established a sales organization.
GHIA, FRUA, AND PELLE PETTERSON
Among those dissatisfied with the P1900 was Helmer Petterson, a Volvo engineering consultant who had helped develop the PV444 back in 1944. Extensive road testing of an early production P1900 had left Petterson even more conscious than Gunnar Engellau of that car’s basic flaws, but he still believed there was a niche for an image-boosting Volvo sports car. In late 1956, Petterson met with Engellau and proposed that they try again, this time with an all-new model based on Volvo’s recently introduced Amazon sedan.
Although Volvo had established its own styling studio in 1950, headed by Jan Wilsgaard, Engellau opted against designing the new sports car internally. We don’t know his rationale; he may have thought an outside design would have greater prestige or he may just have been reluctant to tie up the in-house team with what was at that point a fairly speculative project. In any case, he told Petterson to seek proposals from some of the major Italian design houses.
At the time, Petterson’s son Pelle, then 24 years old, was studying design at New York’s prestigious Pratt Institute. Although Pelle’s first love was sailing, his father was keen for Pelle to apply his talents to automobiles and secured him a position at Carrozzeria Ghia in Turin. Naturally, when Petterson went looking for an Italian studio to design the new Volvo sports car, Ghia was his first stop.
Ghia managing director Luigi Segre had recently arranged to buy out another Italian studio, Carrozzeria Pietro Frua, founded in Turin in 1944. Aside from providing an infusion of new talent, the Frua acquisition gave Ghia a convenient way to take on additional business without alienating its existing clients, some of whom were very unhappy to see the Ghia emblem on competitors’ cars. When Volvo hired Ghia to develop a sports car prototype in April 1957, Luigi Segre called for four proposals: two from Ghia’s designers, two from the Frua team. For political reasons, the final product was to be identified as a Frua design regardless of which team actually designed it.
Although Pelle Petterson was in what we assume was a rather junior position (some sources describe it as an internship) his father persuaded Segre to allow Pelle to submit his own proposal for the new sports car. Segre was apparently impressed with the results and added Pelle’s design to the portfolio Segre was preparing for Gunnar Engellau. Segre went so far as to ask Pelle to create new renderings of the other four proposals in order to give all five proposals a consistent look.
Segre and Helmer Petterson presented the five proposals to Engellau in early August. To Petterson’s undoubted satisfaction, Engellau immediately gravitated to Pelle’s design, discarding the others with only a cursory glance. We don’t know if Engellau was even aware that the younger Petterson was at Ghia, much less that he was involved in the Volvo project. In any event, Engellau was not at all amused when Segre told him that the drawing he’d just chosen was Pelle’s. Nonetheless, Engellau admitted — albeit probably somewhat grudgingly — that it was still the better design and gave his approval for the creation of a full-size prototype. He made it clear, however, that the design would be credited only to Frua. Indeed, it was not until many years later that Volvo publicly admitted Pelle had had anything to do with it.
17 CommentsAdd a Comment
There was also the 123GT, a 122 with the mechanicals of a P1800. I don’t have the impression that Volvo made many of them, or sent many to the States.
There used to be an immaculate 123GT parked near my work in Seattle in the mid-1980s. It had the Federally mandated side marker lights, so presumably it dated from the end of the 122’s life. In the early 2000s I was in stop-and-go traffic and saw a 123GT, which may or may not have been the same one, in the next lane. I rolled down my window, the other guy rolled down his, and I yelled, “Nice 123GT!”
Did anyone produce any aftermarket bits to address the 1800ES’s handling flaws?
I haven’t investigated the 123GT in any detail, but I think it was introduced in 1967. In other markets, it appears it was available through 1970, the end of Amazon production, but at least one source says the two-door models were all dropped in the U.S. at the end of the 1968 model year, so that would make all U.S. cars ’67 or ’68 models. (I shot some not very good photos of one back in December.)
Since the suspension of the 1800ES was nearly, if not completely identical to that of the 1800E/1800S, which in turn was very similar to that of the Amazon, I would imagine that a lot of the competition pieces developed for the latter would probably fit without too much trouble. The trick, as always, is figuring out a combination that would produce a net improvement in handling without just wrecking the ride or making it tail happy. Based on the complaints of contemporary reviewers, it sounds like greater front roll stiffness and firmer damping might be in order. I assume there are Volvo clubs and mailing lists with folks who have experience with modifying these cars who would be able to speak with more authority as to what works and what doesn’t.
Really, that’s about all I can say is “wow”. It seems like every time you do an article on an automaker you’ve never done before you take it upon yourself to unearth their entire history. Just [i]look[/i] at that source list, incredible! The thoroughness of the research and the skill with which it is integrated into the article is, as usual, second to none. I am continually blown away by the quality of your work. I seriously think that you could base a very respectable college history course on nothing other than your body of work on this website. Just amazing. Please do keep it up! These articles are the highlight of my month in terms of internet reading material.
Just for clarification, the overdrive units name was Laycock de Normanville, not the other way around. Great article as usual Aaron. Brought back a lot of great memories of working on them back in the 70s and 80s. Except for that goofy air cleaner behind the grille. Getting that bloody thing out and back in was like a Chinese block puzzle.
Very interesting as always Aaron, I am a fan of the 1800ES, and it was also great to see the write-up on the shooting brakes in the sidebar.
I love my car, and I have loved them since 1975 but just recently bought one. Yes it is not he best driving car I have ever driven, but I think it is the Coolest car I have ever driven. Being a Swedish American, eventually I had to get one of these cars. It has been my favorite car since I sat in one in Southern Calif. at a Volvo dealer. They feel so good.Thx Volvo
I never really understood how the P1800 kind of became a success, while the P1900 didn’t. Apparently both models have their flaws. Funnily, some people are willing to pay more than $100.000 for the P1900 (check out this: parabeam. nl/ article/ car-history-%E2%82%AC-94500-fiberglass-model).
Well, the P1900 was a much cruder effort, even in Volvo’s own estimation, and Volvo judged that it would ultimately be better to develop a new, better car than to try to fix the P1900’s flaws. It wasn’t that the P1900 was a commercial failure, but that Gunnar Engellau decided, “We can do better than this,” and pulled the P1900 from the market very quickly. The P1800 wasn’t perfect and it was pricey for its performance, but it was a credible offering and much more of a Volvo in the sense of robustness and usability. The likely reason the P1900 is worth more as a collectible is simply that it’s comparatively novel (a lot of people have never heard of the P1900, much less seen one) and exceptionally rare, not because it was an intrinsically better car than the P1800 — which I don’t think even the few P1900 owners would claim.
I am the original owner of a 1970 Volvo 1800E. I am restoring the interior. I’m having difficulty wiring the 3 way interior light switch under the dash on the driver’s side. Does anyone out there know how this switch should be wired or know of someone that does. If so, please return this comment.
I’m afraid I’m not qualified to help with repair or restoration advice, sorry!
I realize this is an old thread, perhaps someone can help. Trying to remove the combined water/old temp gauge on my 1968 1800S. How does one disconnect the metal tubes in the back that connect the the engine sending units?thank you
I’m sorry, I’m not able (or qualified!) to provide repair or maintenance advice!
As the owner of both a Jensen Healey (not GT) and a Volvo 1800ES, I particularly enjoyed this article. The 1800ES is a joy to drive in modern 2016 traffic and it turns heads wherever it goes. It is a efficient, dependable classic with the most dependable engine ever build (See Irv Gordon Guiness record) which was designed by Italians in the vein of 1950’s Ferraris. Really you could not do much better than that.
As a matter of linguistic interest, the definite article is suffixed onto the noun in Swedish, Danish, and Norwegian. Strictly speaking, raket = “rocket,” and raketen = “the rocket.” This also occurs in Romanian and Bulgarian. The fancy linguistic term for a suffixed definite article is an enclitic.
I did not know that! I’ve attempted to reflect that in the text just now.
Yes, I know that this is an old thread.
Incredibly well done and remarkably sourced. Nice job!