Kindleberger

Kindleberger (pronounced khin-dil-berg-ah)

A family name of Germanic origin.

As “Kindleberger Moment” & “Kindleberger Trap”, two related terms describing different aspects from an underlying problem in international political economy and named after economist Professor Charles P. Kindleberger (1910-2003) whose writings inspired their coining.  Professor Kindleberger’s middle name was “Poor” and while that may seem more appropriate for a monk than an economist, it didn’t appear to hamper his career.

The surname Kindleberger is of German origin, functioning as a habitational or topographic name, the construct being Kind(l)- + -berg + -er.  Kind (kid, child, young person) was from the Middle High German kint, from the Old High German kind, from the Proto-West Germanic kind, from Proto-Germanic kindą & kinþą, from the primitive Indo-European ǵenh- (to give birth); there were many local dialect variations.  Berg (mountain, hill) was from the Middle High German bërc, from the Old High German bërg, from the Proto-West Germanic berg, ultimately from the Proto-Germanic bergaz; it may be compared with the Dutch berg, the German Low German Barg, Berg & Biärg, the West Frisian berch, the English berry & barrow, the Danish bjerg and the Swedish berg.  The –er suffix (in this context) was appended to indicate inhabitant or person from a specific locality.  The “-berg” element thus in general was used in the names of those living near a specific hill or a place named with those combined linguistic roots and Kindleberger would likely have began with someone who was the (probably male) offspring of someone named “Berg”, “Berger” or such.  As a compound surname, it may in some instances have referred not to individuals living near mountainous regions but those (likely female) who were known for their roles as caretakers of children; the etymological structure can indicate a connection between familial roles and the natural landscape.  The name dates from at least the Late Medieval period (when surnames became hereditary) and records of use exist in several German-speaking regions, clusters found concentrated in areas like the Rheinland-Pfalz (Rhineland-Palatinate) region that, while not characterized by alpine peaks, does have a topography noted for rolling hills, low mountain ranges, and deeply carved river valleys.  As internal migration increased (notably within the Holy Roman Empire), like many European surnames, variations like Kindleberger and Kindelberger spread and this occurred internationally during the nineteenth & twentieth centuries; outside of Europe, the Kindleberger name is most likely to be found in the states of the north-eastern US (the largest concentrations historically in West Virginia, Ohio & Pennsylvania).  Kindleberger is a proper noun; the noun plural is Kindlebergers.

A red meteor observed by US-born astronomer Stephen James O'Meara (b 1956) in the skies above Maun, Botswana.

Asteroid 42354 Kindleberger was named after the professor.  Originally listed by the International Dark Sky Discovery Center in Fountain Hills, Arizona on 12 February, 2002 (and provisionally allocated ID 2002 CK43), it was discovered by Charles Juels (1944–2009) and Paulo Holvorcem (b 1967), both amateur astronomers.  Paulo Holvorcem (b 1967) is a mathematician based in Brasília (one of a handful of “created” capital cities), Brazil while Charles Juels (1944–2009) was a US psychiatrist practicing in Phoenix, Arizona; after retirement, he became one of the planet’s most prolific discoverers of asteroids, minor planets and such.  The naming conventions administered by the IAU (International Astronomical Union) permit those who discover minor planets to submit potential names, once the orbit officially is confirmed.  Professor Kindleberger was honoured in recognition both of his academic contributions to the discipline of economics and the role his books (especially Manias, Panics, and Crashes: A History of Financial Crises (1978) played in explaining such phenomena to a non-specialist audience.  The choice (within certain limitations) is in the hands of the discoverer(s) and other economists have had asteroids named after them.  Red-tailed asteroids are rare but do exist, 3200 Phaethon's (provisionally 1983 TB) vivid tail made of sodium vaporized from the rock by the heat of the Sun, inducing  fluoresce an orange glow.  Definitely the next red-tailed asteroid should be named after Lindsay Lohan.

The World in Depression, 1929-1939 (1973) by Charles P. Kindleberger.

A “Kindleberger Moment” is a critical point in global history when the world’s dominant power (of late typically a hegemon) ceases providing economic leadership and no other country is able or willing to assume the role.  MIT (Massachusetts Institute of Technology) Professor of Economics Charles P. Kindleberger illustrated the concept during his study of the Great Depression of the 1930s, arguing the global economy “crashed” (ie suffered a significant decline in economic activity, employment, trade etc) because (1) the economy of the previously dominant power (the UK) had been too weakened by the First World War (1914-1918) to be able to provide the necessary leadership and corrective mechanisms and (2) the rising power (the US) was both also greatly affected by the downturn and anyway uninterested in becoming entangled in international affairs.  A Kindleberger moment can be considered a “global power vacuum”, the previous leader withdrawing from maintaining and contributing to global rules, trade agreements, and international organizations with no successor available.  At such moments, competing rising new powers tend to focus only on their own interests instead of supporting global stability, meaning the international system faces heightened risks of financial collapse, trade wars, political instability and related chaos (mass irregular migration, border conflicts etc).  Of late, there has been renewed interest in the Kindleberger moment as doubts have been raised about the ability of the US to continue in the rule it has fulfilled since 1945 at a time when the PRC (People’s Republic of China, 1949-) is becoming increasing powerful and assertive but has neither the capacity nor (apparently) the inclination to be the world’s “indispensable nation” (ie “global policeman and banker”).

Professor Kindleberger in his office at MIT, Cambridge, Massachusetts.

As an economist discussing the smooth operation of the international economy, Kindleberger didn’t attach to the concept of “hegemon” the negative connotations vested famously by the Italian Marxist theorist Antonio Gramsci (1891-1937) who had used to idea in a predictably Marxist way (of a “ruling class & ruling culture” able within a society to exert control and maintain power for its own economic benefit).  For Kindleberger, a hegemonic power was a highly desirable element in an inter-connected world economy that in the absence of such an authority would inevitably descent into conflicts that likely would spread.  A Kindleberger moment occurs when there’s hegemonic absence (or even significant deficit) in which the international system lacks a power willing and able to supply essential stabilising functions including:

(1) Maintaining an international trading system in which markets were free, open and transparent.

(2) Providing a system in which international capital flows were regulated to the extent of ensuring stability.

(3) Maintaining a stable monetary system by providing a stable, convertible reserve currency, able to be used by trading nations.

(4) Acting as a lender of last resort.

(5) Coordinating international responses to economic and other crises.

The related “Kindleberger Trap” (a term dating only from 2017) describes the structural dilemma that can arise from the world entering a “Kindleberger Moment”.  Were there always a nice symmetry in that as one power withdrew from the role, another took over on a “business as usual” basis, it would be a smoothly run world but in international relations things tend to be more messy and depending on the dynamics, things can take decades or even centuries to be resolved (for better or worse).  As a rising power acquires sufficient economic, military and geopolitical weight, it might be expected to contribute to maintaining the international order (from which, by definition, it has gained that strength) at a time when the established hegemon simultaneously is reducing its capacity or willingness to carry the burden but history suggests conflict is more likely than cooperation.  The twist in the “Kindleberger Moment” theory is that in a situation where the existing hegemon is in decline but the rising power is unwilling or unable to assume the role, a “trap” begins to open.  That trap is created by the rising power “probing” often regional weaknesses in the hegemon’s strategic architecture and the response to that often is localized tactical violence (often called “containment”), something that can exacerbate the decline of the authority of the established power while doing little to curb (and likely even encourage) the assertiveness of the rival.  Once the hegemon is so engaged, the trap has closed and the point is the “trap” is likely a process rather than a singer decisive event.  Deliberately the phrase echoed the better-known “Thucydides Trap” (the name from the Ancient Greek general & historian Thucydides (circa 460-circa 400 BC)). Describing the idea that when a rising power threatens to supplant the established one, the result is often war (pre-emptive or preventive depending on the spin chosen), either through a fear of being attacked or in an attempt to “contain the upstart”.  So, conceptually, a Kindleberger moment is the situation; the Kindleberger Trap is the recurring structural predicament that can lead to it.

Manias, Panics, and Crashes: A History of Financial Crises (1978) by Charles P. Kindleberger, fifty years on, still the standard work and now in its eighth edition (2023) and, there being no indication there'll not be more manias, panics, and crashes, a ninth edition can be expected, updated to document the latest crises.

The consensus among specialists seems to be the world is not at this point in a Kindleberger Moment because structurally the PRC is not yet able to assume the global role the US has evolved to fulfil since 1945.  These was nothing unique about the shift in 1945, just as the US replaced the UK, the UK had replaced the Netherlands, the Netherlands had replaced Spain and Spain had replaced various Italian city-states.  What however now makes the situation potentially unstable is that the PRC does not accept the existing US-led order, but is not only unable to replicate the global role but uninterested in doing so.  The PRC’s preferred model is “spheres of influence” on a grand scale administered on a “Westphalian basis” (ie non-interference in each other’s spheres).  In that, Beijing’s vision differs from spheres of influence approach during the Cold War in that the earlier model was one of conflict disguised as peaceful co-existence; the PRC’s regarding their mode; as beneficial for all.  Unlike those running the early Soviet Union (1922-1991), the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) has no interest in exporting its system of governance to other states; the lessons have been well-learned from the US attempting to “impose democracy” in places where historically it has never taken root.  The modern CCP does not wish to attempt to transform other places to clones of the PRC; what is wants is for them become good, reliable suppliers and consumers and whether they are run as democracies, theocracies or dictatorships is an “internal affair”.  What matters is peace, good order and a common system of “non-interference”.  The CCP’s collective view is not unknown in the annals of the US State Department, the diplomat and historian George Kennan (1904-2005) in one of his long (and mostly ignored) reports from Moscow in 1945 noting the US should “…remain true to its ideals but should not try to foist them on peoples with entirely different national traditions.”

Leviathan (1651) by Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679).  The etching used for the frontipiece of the original edition was by the French printmaker Abraham Bosse (circa 1604–1676) “with input from the author”.

The One comparison that can be made is between the notion a world hegemon is necessary for a generally stable world economy and the idea the very clever and deliciously wicked English philosopher Thomas Hobbes explored in Leviathan (1651): A strong sovereign (to whom individuals must cede certain “natural rights”) is essential for a peaceful, stable society.  Although striking, there are limitations to the extent the hegemon in Professor Kindleberger's model can be thought an international analogue of the grim vision in Leviathan; it is not a direct application of Hobbesian political theory.  Hobbes argued the fundamental problem in the “state of nature” (ie in which the earliest “societies” came to be formed) was the lack of a sufficiently powerful common authority to prevent individuals from pursuing their interests against one another.  In that model, because each person (at least theoretically) possesses roughly equal capacity to threaten others, rational individuals have an incentive to seek security by establishing a sovereign and one not there merely to coordinate but also with coercive power.  What the existence of a powerful sovereign offered was that in exchange for restrictions on individual freedom (at the most basic, not killing one’s opponents), collective security would be guaranteed.  Because all in the society would be subject to the same authority (and thus the same loss of certain freedoms) the arrangement would come to be accepted, if for no other reason than the alternative(s) being worse: “nasty, solitary, brutish and short” Hobbes’ memorable phrase.

Kindleberger's argument was developed in his book The World in Depression, 1929–1939 (1973) and concerned something analogous to what Hobbes described but at the international economic level.  His thesis was that (1) with an economy damaged by involvement in World War I and the consequent “difficulties” of the following decade, the UK was no longer able to provided the international economic leadership it had delivered before the war while (2) the US was unable or unwilling to assume the role.  With no stabilising hegemon, nations resorted to acting in short-term self interest, leading to reductions in trade, wealth and employment; Professor Kindleberger's key insight was that whatever their granular nature, in international economics these things must be thought public goods but, of course, individual countries each had incentives to have others bear the cost of maintaining them, thus the famous “Kindleberger Problem”: Who pays for the system?  That the UK was not prepared to go deeper into debt and the US preferred to focus on its own problems he held to be the major factors that made what might have been a sharp but relatively short recession into the Great Depression of the 1930s.  It was the leadership vacuum that created the conditions leading to the collapse of the international economic order.

The limitation in pursuing the analogy is of course that neither the UK in the nineteenth century nor the US since 1945 were the sovereign of the international system in the Hobbesian sense; Hobbes’ sovereign had juridical and coercive supremacy over subjects while the international hegemon does not because, although in the modern age state sovereignty is no longer the fabulous beast it was once claimed to be, individual nations remain still independent with some (though much varied) capacity to resist a hegemon.  In other words, Kindleberger's hegemon can help to provide order through preponderance in economic, political and political capabilities whereas the Hobbesian sovereign, within their territory, enjoyed absolute authority.  So the problems can be seen as similar but the solutions differ, Hobbes describing a rigid hierarchy and Kindleberger a leadership that administers anarchy by making it “managed chaos”.

US National Debt: US$40 trillion by August 2026.

All the history and economic theory is of course of interest but of immediate concern is (1) whether a Kindleberger moment is to hand (protagonist and antagonist being the US and PRC) and (2) whether the consequences of soch a moment will be economic disruption (of unknown extent or duration) or armed conflict (of unknown extent or duration).  The world is in a most unusual situation in that although the US continues of operate as hegemon, debatably it shouldn’t be able to because of its US$40 trillion debt (about 123% of GDP (gross domestic product)) and other problems.  While it’s true US debt was nudging 120% immediately after World War II (1939-1945), the US position at that time (vis-à-vis the rest of the planet) was unique and the debt trend was downwards whereas now it’s upwards.  There are those who argue things have changed and the US$40 trillion number is no longer an expression of “debt” in the conventional sense of the word but merely a way of describing the “new” mechanism of managing the US money supply.  The notion the US Treasury could at any time mint a single US$40 trillion coin, add it to the balance sheet and declare a net-debt free status has been offered as one example of why “deficits don’t matter” and while not all accept that, just about the whole world is now dependent on the US sustaining the existing system with this ever-growing debt so, in the absence of another country (or “demi-country” such as the EU (European Union (1993)), the multi-national aggregation which evolved from the EEC (European Economic Community), the Zollverein formed in 1957)) able and willing to fulfil the role of hegemon, the world economy and the US remain engaged in what some fear is a kind of economic danse macabre and there seems no way to use the numbers to predict if it's a debt level of US$50, 75, or 100 trillion that risks triggering a crisis.

Presidents Xi (left) and Trump (right).  With sufficient (1) goodwill or (2) amorality, the art of the deal can be done.  With enough of the latter, the former may one day emerge.

Of course the ultimate wild card (others might prefer “joker”) is that Donald Trump (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) is in the White House and while his idiosyncratic methods of governance intrigue political junkies, so marvellously unpredictable are his actions that it’s hard to map onto the dynamics a well understood concept like the Kindleberger Moment.  At heart a CEO (chief executive officer) rather than a democrat operating within constitutional norms, it’s suspected that left to his own devices, Mr Trump would sit down at the map table with comrade Xi Jinping (b 1953; General Secretary of the CCP and paramount leader of the PRC (People's Republic of China) since 2012) and divide up their respective spheres of influence.  Like Mr Trump who wants as little as possible to do with the internal affairs of America’s suppliers and customers (ie other countries), Mr Xi has no wish to waste effort or resources on “pointless squabbles” and not since a couple of horse-traders like Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) & comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953), needing nothing more, than pencil, paper and limitless cynicism divided up the Balkans into bite-sized spheres have two great powers been headed by a pair as suited to “doing the art of the deal”.  Of course, for those in places like the “renegade province of Taiwan”, there would be a cost but as at was demonstrated at the Yalta Conference (February 1945), somebody “always has to pay the price” and that may be a better trap to spring than risking the jaws of a Kindleberger Trap.

Doodlebug

Doodlebug (pronounced dood-l-buhg)

(1) In entomology, the larva of an antlion (a group of some 2,000 species of insect in the neuropteran family Myrmeleontidae, the appellation “doodlebug” an allusion to the “doodle-like” marks they leave in the sand as tracks of their movement.

(2) In entomology (UK), a cockchafer (genus Melolontha).

(3) In entomology (US regional), a woodlouse.

(4) As “doodlebugger”, a dowser (divining rod) or similar device supposedly useful in locating underground water, hydrocarbons, minerals etc.  By extension, the word was applied to geophysicists or geologists undertaking field work (especially oil prospecting or mineral exploration); they were said to be doodlebugging.

(5) In World War II (1939-1945) UK slang, the German cruise missile the V1, (Fs-103), also known informally as the “flying bomb” or “buzz bomb”, the latter an allusion to the distinctive sound made by the craft’s pulse-jet power-plant.  The slang began among RAF (Royal Air Force) personnel and later spread to the general population.

(6) In US rural slang, as “doodlebug tractor”, a car or light truck converted into tractor used (usually for small-scale agriculture), first noted as a type during the Great Depression years of the 1930s.  During World War II, the improvisation continued because new tractors were in short supply because most production was allocated to the military. 

(7) Individual self-propelled train cars (obsolete).

(8) Any of various small, squat vehicles (as both nickname and official designation).

(9) In informal use, a term of endearment (now rare).

(10) In informal use, a slackard (an archaic form of slacker) or time-waster (now rare).

(11) In informal use, an idiot (as used casually rather than in its once codified sense in mental health).

(12) In informal use, someone who habitually draws (or doodles) objects.

1865-1870: A coining in US English, the construct being doodle + bug, the first known use as a US dialectal form (south of the Mason-Dixon Line) to describe certain beetles or larva.  Doodle dates from the early seventeenth century and was used to mean “a fool or simpleton”.  It was originally a dialectal form, from dudeldopp (simpleton) and influenced by dawdle (to spend time idly and unfruitfully; to waste time, pointlessly to linger, to move or walk lackadaisically; to “dilly-dally”), thus the later use of doodle to mean “a slackard (slacker) or time-waster”.  The German variants of the etymon included Dudeltopf, Dudentopf, Dudenkopf, Dude and Dödel (and there’s presumably some link with the German dudeln (to play the bagpipe)).  There is speculation the Americanism “dude” may have some connection and the now internationalized (and sometimes gender-neutral) “dude” has in recent decades become one of slang’s more productive and variable forms.  The song Yankee Doodle long pre-dates the American Revolutionary War (1775-1783) but it was popularized in the era by being used as a marching song by British colonial troops, the intention being to poke fun at their rebellious opponents; that didn't work out well.  From this use was derived the verb of the early eighteenth century (to doodle), meaning “to swindle or to make a fool of”.  The predominant modern meaning (the drawings regarded usually as “small mindless sketches”) emerged in the 1930s either from this meaning or (as seems to have greater support), from the verb “to dawdle” which since the seventeenth century had been used to mean “wasting time; being lazy”.  In slang and idiomatic use, doodles uses are legion including “the penis” and any number of rhyming forms with meanings ranging from the very good to the very bad.  The hyphenated doodle-bug has appeared and Urban Dictionary has the usual array of alternative, user-generated meanings.  Doodlebug, doodlebugging & doodlebugger are nouns; the noun plural is doodlebugs.

A doodled Volkswagen “bug” on Drawn Inside.

Bug dates from 1615–1625, the original use being to describe insects, apparently as a variant of the earlier bugge (beetle), thought to be an alteration of the Middle English budde, from the Old English -budda (beetle) but etymologists are divided on whether the phrase “bug off” (please leave) is related to the undesired presence of insects or was of a distinct origin.  Bug, bugging & debug are nouns & verbs, bugged is a verb & adjective and buggy is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is bugs.  Although “unbug” makes apparent sense (ie remove a bug, and thus synonymous with the modern “debug”), it doesn’t exist whereas forms such as the adjectives unbugged (not bugged) and unbuggable (not able to be bugged) are listed as standard.  The array of compound forms meaning “someone obsessed with an idea, hobby etc) produced things like “shutterbug” (amateur photographer) & firebug (arsonist) seems first to have emerged in the mid nineteenth century.  The development of this into “a craze or obsession” is thought rapidly to have accelerated in the years just before World War I (1914-1918), again based on the notion of “bitten by the bug” or “caught the bug”, thus the idea of being infected with an unusual enthusiasm for something.

The use to mean a demon, evil spirit, spectre or hobgoblin was first recorded in the mid-fourteenth century and was a clipping of the Middle English bugge (scarecrow, demon, hobgoblin) or uncertain origin although it may have come from the Middle Welsh bwg (ghost; goblin (and linked to the Welsh bwgwl (threat (and earlier “fear”) and the Middle Irish bocanách (supernatural being).  There’s also speculation it may have come from the scary tales told to children which included the idea of a bugge (beetle) at a gigantic scale.  That would have been a nightmarish thought and the idea remains fruitful to this day for artists and film-makers needing something frightening in the horror or SF (science fiction) genre.  The use in this sense is long obsolete although the related forms bugbear and bugaboo survive.  Dating from the 1570s, a bugbear was in folklore a kind of “large goblin”, used to inspire fear in children (both as a literary device & for purposes of parental control) and for adults it soon came to mean “a source of dread, resentment or irritation; in modern use it's an “ongoing problem”, a recurring obstacle or adversity or one’s pet peeve.  The obsolete form bugg dates from circa 1620 and was a reference to the troublesome bedbug, the construct a conflation of the middle English bugge (scarecrow, hobgoblin) and the Middle English budde (beetle).  The colloquial sense of “a microbe or germ” dates from 1919, the emergence linked to the misleadingly-named “Spanish influenza” pandemic.

A doodlebug (left) and his (or her) doodles in the sand (right).

That the word doodlebug has appeal is obvious because since the 1860s it has been re-purposed many time, often with the hint something “small but not cute”, that something understandable given the original creature so named (larva of an antlion) is not one of nature’s more charismatic creations.  Doodlebugs are squat little things which live mostly in loose sand where they create pit traps and genuinely are industrious creatures, their name earned not because they are idle time-wasters but because the tracks they leave in the sand are strikingly similar to the doodles people often wile away their time drawing.  The frankly unattractive ant leave their doodles behind because, as they percolate over the ground, their big butts drag behind them, leaving the erratic trails.  So compelling is the name, it has been applied to a number of other, similar insects.  Another use is attributive from the link with the seventeenth century notion of a doodle being “a simpleton or time-waster”, extended later to “an idiot” (the word used casually rather than as it once was codified in mental health); in the 1930s it came be used of those who incessantly sketch or draw stuff, the idea being they are squandering their time.  What they draw are called “doodles”, the source of the name for the artist.

Doodles on a rendering of Lindsay Lohan by Stable Diffusion.

The mid-twentieth century art (some of its practitioners claiming it was a science) of doodlebugging was practiced by doodlebuggers who used a method said to be not greatly different from the equally dubious technique of the water diviner.  All the evidence suggests there was a general scepticism of the claims that a bent rod waived about above the earth could be used to locate hydro-carbons and the use of “doodlebuging” to refer to the process was originally a slur but it became an affectionate name for those intrepid enough to trek into deserts seeking the “black gold” usuing more orthodox prospecting techniques.  In the 1940s when the “profession” was first described, any reliable means of detecting sub-surface oil deposits simply didn’t exist (other than drilling a hole in the ground to see if it was there) and the early doodlebuggers were scam merchants.  The science did however advance (greatly spurred on by the demands of wartime) and when geologists came to be able to apply the modern machinery of seismic mapping and actually had success, they too were called doodlebuggers and happily adopted the name.

Texaco Doodlebug fuel tanker, one of eight built in 1934-1935 during the industry's "streamliner" era.  It was a time when art deco's lovely lines appeared in many fields of design. 

In the early twentieth century, a doodlebug was a self-propelled rail car, used on rail lines which were short in length and subject only to light traffic.  These were autonomous vehicles, powered both by gasoline (petrol) (in the US, it was the the pre-diesel era) and electricity; they were an attractive alternative for operators, being much cheaper to run than the combination of large locomotives & carriage cars, eminently suited to routes with lower passenger numbers.  The concept may be compared with the smaller (often propeller or turbo-prop) aircraft used for shuttle services or on regional & feeder routes where demand be sufficient to make viable the use of larger airliners.  Although the doodlebugs carried relatively few passengers, their operating costs were correspondingly lower so the PCpM (passenger cost per mile) was at least comparable with the full-sized locomotives.  While it may be a myth, the story is that one rail employee described the small, stumpy rail car as looking like a “potato bug” and (as English informal terms tend to do) this morphed into the more appealing doodlebug.

Some assembly required: a doodlebug tractor with hydraulic pump-driven crane, the agglomeration dating from circa 1934.

Although the mechanical specification of each tended to vary as things broke and were replaced with whatever fell conveniently to hand or could be purchased cheaply, when discovered, it included a 1925 Chevrolet gasoline engine, Ford Model T firewall and steering, Ford Model A three-speed manual transmission, Ford Model TT (truck) rear end and AM General HMMWV rear wheels and tires.  The "mix & match" approach was typical of the genre and it's doubtful many were for long exactly alike.

A doodlebug could also be a DIY (do it yourself) tractor.  During the Great Depression of the 1930s, smaller-scale farmers (then more prevalent than today) in the US no longer had the capital (or access to loan-capital) to purchase plant and equipment on the same scale as in more prosperous times but needed still to make their land productive, a essential tool being the tractor, one of modernity's many devices which greatly had increased the efficiency of agriculture.  New tractors being thus for many being unattainable, necessity compelled farmers to turn to what was available and that was the stock of old cars and pickup trucks, now suddenly cheaper because the Depression had lowered demand for them as well.  With saws and welding kits, imaginative and inventive farmers would crop & chop and slice & dice until they had a vehicle which would do much of what a tractor could and according to the legends of the time, some actually out-performed the real thing because their custom design was optimized for a specific, intended purpose.  What made the modifications possible in the engineering sense was that it was a time when cars and pick-ups in the US always used a separate chassis; the bodies could be removed and it was possible still to drive the things and it was on these basic platforms the “doodlebug” tractors were fashioned.  They were known also as “scrambolas”, “Friday night specials” and “hacksaw tractors” but it was “doodlebug” which really caught on and so popular was the practice that kits were soon advertised in mail-order catalogues (the Amazon of the day and a long tradition in the rural US).  Not until the post-war years when economic conditions improved and production of machinery for civilian use resumed at full-scale did the informal industry of the doodlebug end.

1946 Brogan Doodlebug (right) with 1942 Pontiac Torpedo (left).  In the US, some passenger car production continued in the first quarter of 1942. 

Although now what’s most remembered about the US cars of the post-war era are the huge and extravagantly macropterous creations, there were more than two dozen manufacturers in the 1940s & 1950s offering “micro-cars”, aimed at (1) female drivers, (2) inner-city delivery services and (3) urban drivers who wanted something convenient to manoeuvre and park.  The market however proved unresponsive and as the population shift to the suburbs accelerated, women wanted station wagons (in many ways the emblematic socio-economic symbol of suburban American of the 1950s) and the delivery companies needed larger capacity.  As the Volkswagen Beetle (Type 1, 1938-2003) and a few other niche players would prove during that decade’s “import boom”, Americans would buy smaller cars, just not micro-cars which even in Europe, where they were for a time successful, the segment didn’t survive to see the end of the 1960s (although various factors would see later revivals).  But there was the Brogan Doodlebug, made by the B&B Specialty Company of Rossmoyne, Ohio and produced between 1946-1950 although that fewer than three dozen were sold hints at the level of demand at a time when Detroit’s mass-production lines were every day churning out thousands of “standard sized” cars.

1946 Brogan Doodlebug.

Somewhat optimistically (though etymologically defensible) described as a “roadster”, the advertising for the Doodlebug exclusively featured women drivers and it certainly was in some ways ideal for urban use (except perhaps when raining, snowing, in cold weather or the sun was harsh).  It used a three wheeled chassis with the single wheel at the front, articulated so the vehicle could turn within its own length making parking easy, the thing barely 96 inches (2,440 mm) in length & 40 inches (1,020 mm) wide; weighing only some 442 lbs (200 kg), it was light enough for two strong men to pick it up and move it (a characteristic with both advantages and drawbacks).  Powered by either a single or twin-cylinder rear-mounted engine (both rated at a heady 10 HP (horsepower ), no gearbox was deemed necessary, thus no tiresome gear levers or clutch pedals intruded to confuse women drivers.   B&B claimed a fuel consumption up to 70 mpg (84 mpg in Imperial gallons) with a cruising speed of 45-50 mph (70-80 km/h).  All this for US$400 and remarkably, it seems it wasn’t until 1950 (after some 30 doodlebugs had been built over four years) the cost-accountants looked at the project and concluded B&B was losing about US$100 on each one sold.  A price-rise was ruled out so production ended and although B&B released the Broganette (an improved three-wheeler with the single wheel at the rear (a configuration offering much better stability); it was no more successful and the company turned to golf carts and scooters; that proved more lucrative.  B&B later earned a footnote in the history of motorsport as one of the pioneer go-kart manufacturers.

Annotated schematic of the V-1 (left) and a British Military Intelligence drawing (dated 16 June 1944, 3 days after the first V-1 attacks on London (right). 

First deployed in 1944 the German Vergeltungswaffen eins (“retaliatory weapon 1” or “reprisal weapon 1” and eventually known as the V-1) was the world’s first cruise missile.  One of the rare machines to use a pulse-jet, it emitted such a distinctive sound that those at whom it was aimed nicknamed it the “buzz-bomb” although it attracted other names including “flying bomb” and “doodlebug”.  In Germany, before Dr Joseph Goebbels (1897-1945; Nazi Minister of Public Enlightenment and Propaganda 1933-1945) decided it was the V-1 (understood as “vengeance weapon 1”), the official military code name was Fi 103 (The Fi stood for Fieseler, the original builder of the airframe and most famous for their classic Storch (Stork), short take-off & landing (STOL) aircraft) but there were also the code-names Maikäfer (maybug) & Kirschkern (cherry stone).  While the Allied defenses against the V-1 did improve over time, it was only the destruction of the launch sites and the occupation of territory within launch range that ceased the attacks.  Until then, the V-1 remained a highly effective terror weapon but, like the V-2 and so much of the German armaments effort, bureaucratic empire-building and political intrigue compromised the efficiency of the project.

V-1 falling on London, 13 June, 1944, the location identifiable by the roofline of the city’s courts of law.  Not until 29 March, 1945 did the UK suffer its last V-1 strike, that final doodlebug falling to ground in Datchworth, Hertfordshire.

Shot from a Fleet-Street roof-top air-raid warning observation post, the image captures a V-1 in profile during the final seconds of its descent.  Accurate enough only for the target to be “London”, this one fell on a side road off Drury Lane, the warhead’s explosion damaging several buildings including the offices of The Daily Herald newspaper.  Long associated with the British Labour Party (and the labor movement more generally) The Daily Herald was published between 1912-1964 (always as a daily except during World War I (1914-1918) when there was only a weekly edition) and for a time in the 1930s it was the newspaper with the world’s highest audited circulation, peaking at over two million with a readership several times that number.  Despite a number of changes in ownership and editorial focus, it was for all its existence very much an organ of the labour movement and broadly supportive (though not uncritical) of the Labour Party, something that didn’t change in 1964 when it was re-launched as The Sun.  The real change came in 1969 when the by then ailing title was bought by Rupert Murdoch (b 1931), after which it (and the tabloid market) was never quite the same.  The pre-internet state of the UK’s once vibrant newspaper business was summarised by an anonymous advertising copywriter whose thoughts appeared in the book Newspaper Money by economists Fred Hirsch (1931–1978) and David Gordon (b 1942):

The Times is read by the people who run the country.

The Guardian is read by the people who would like to run the country.

The Financial Times is read by the people who own the country.

The Daily Telegraph is read by the people who remember the country as it used to be.

The Daily Express is read by the people who think the country is still like that.

The Daily Mail is read by the wives of the men who run the country.

The Daily Mirror (which itself once tried to run the country) is read by the people who think they run the country.

The Morning Star is read by the people who would like another country to run the country.

The Sun-well, Murdoch has found a gap in the market - the oldest gap in the world.

Phaeton

Phaeton (pronounced feyt-n (U) or fey-i-tn (non-U))

(1) Any of various light, four-wheeled carriages, originally without folding tops, having one or two seats facing forward, used first in the nineteenth century.  In describing horse-drawn carriages, phaeton was later used to describe many with convertible tops (originally often as spider (or spyder) phaeton).

(2) An early-mid twentieth century touring-car with four or more seats and (later) sometimes with removable side-windows and a convertible top; some with dual-cowl coachwork.

(3) A model name for automobiles which came to mean nothing in particular beyond a hint at "more expensive".

1585-1595: 1742: From the (1735) French phaeton, from the Latin Phaëtōn, from the Ancient Greek Φᾰέθων (Phaéthōn).  Phaëthon, the son of Clymene and the sun god Helios, gained permission (from whom was contested) to drive his father's sun-chariot but, being unable to control the horses, was struck by Zeus with a thunderbolt and slain after nearly setting on fire the whole Earth.  His name translated as “shining” and was from phaein & the verb phaethô (to shine, to make gleam), from phaos (light), from the primitive Indo-European root bha- (to shine).   Even before the carriages were so named, phaeton (the spellings varied) was used to describe someone who recklessly handled horses and carts or carriages.  The alternative spellings were Phaethon, Phaéthôn, Phaëton, Phaeton, Phæton & Phaëthon.  The adjectives phaetonlike & phateonesque are non-standards but have been used by historians of the industry to describe the coachwork of vehicles (built usually in the 1930s) with characteristics straddling those of phaetons and convertible sedans without being a "pure" implementation of either.  Phaeton & phaetoneer are nouns; the noun plural is phaetons.

Phaethon (1878), watercolor & pencil in the symbolist tradition by Gustave Moreau (1826-1898), Musée du Louvre, Paris.

The myth from antiquity was a cautionary tale about the impetuosity of adolescent youth but, being from Greek mythology, there’s more than one account of Phaëthon and the story of his fall was told with two distinct traditions concerning his genealogy, one making him the son of Eos and Cephalus, the other of Helios and Clymene.  In the second and most popular version, Phaethon was raised by his mother, who, until he reached adolescence, concealed from the boy his father's identity.  Impressed by his illustrious lineage but also seeking acknowledgement of his status as a child of a god, Phaethon asked his father to allow him drive the sun-chariot (somewhat akin to handing one’s sixteen year-old son the keys to one’s V12 Ferrari).  Duly granted, Phaethon began the journey by following his father’s usual route across the vaults of heaven but, inexperienced, became alarmed a finding himself so high in the sky, the sights of the animals in the starts (the signs of the Zodiac) becoming too frightening so he deviated from the eternally ordained path.  In panic, he dropped too low, scorching the once fertile plains of Africa to desert and risking setting alight the whole of Earth.  Out of control, he again soared too high, prompting the stars to complain to Zeus.  Appalled, to prevent a global conflagration, Zeus smote the boy with his thunderbolt, hurling him dead into the River Eridanus where the Heliades (his five sisters) paid him funeral honours.  A variant on the tale is the Heliades (Merope, Helia, Phoebe, Aetheria & Dioxippe (or Lampetia)), lamenting his death, wept for him on the banks of the Eridanus where they were transformed into tall poplars, their tears becoming drops of amber.  That may, given the circumstances, seem harsh but in that version it was said their arboreal metamorphosis was a punishment because it was they who had given Phaethon the chariot and horses of the Sun without the permission of Helios.  While the myths of Antiquity often were unforgiving, that twist in the tale has attracted latter-day feminist criticism because it’s part of the “blame women” narrative that, for several thousand years, permeated Western literature, “poisoning” politics and culture.  In death, Phaethon was placed amongst the stars as the constellation Auriga (the Charioteer) or transformed into the god of the star that the Greeks named Phaethon (the planets Jupiter or Saturn depending on the translation).

1932 Cadillac V16 Special Phaeton with (V12) coach-work by Fisher.

Phaetons were a type of type of light, open four-wheeled horse carriage, English in 1742 picking up the word from the French form, coined in 1735, the link being the exposure of the passengers to the sun and until well into the modern age, they remained popular, despite the availability of carriages with partially or fully enclosed coach-work.  Indeed, even if not so named, phaetons were the most common form in the early age of the automobile, some supplied with no folding top, some with one and removable side windows also appeared, something supplied by the manufacturer, sometimes by third-party "accessory shops", an industry that for decades flourished and, in rather different form, exists to this day.  As enclosed coachwork and integrated (retractable) side windows became close to standardized, phaetons were by the 1930s close to extinct and the companion four-door convertibles would soon follow, becoming a niche last filled in 1967 when the last convertible version of the memorable fourth series Lincoln Continentals (1961-1969) left the line, a model that would prove to be the last convertible ever built by Lincoln.  The core element of the phaeton (no side windows) lived on the (most British) roadsters of the post-war years although by the early 1960s most of them had gained effete luxuries like external door handles and windows able to be wound down (although other primitive features would endure), all supplied with at least a folding soft-top and often a rigid hard-top (in metal or fibreglass) too.  Since the Shelby American Cobra was in 1967 driven extinct by the beginning of what proved an onslaught of US safety and exhaust emission regulations, only a handful of small-scale manufactures have produced the traditional, minimalist roadsters and none have put phaetons into production, there being some demand for the former, none for the latter.

The Dual-Cowl Phaetons

1935 Packard Twelve dual-cowl Sport Phaeton with coach-work by Dietrich (left) and 1935 Duesenberg SJ dual-cowl Phaeton with coach-work by La Grande.  The unusual, rakish line of the Duesenberg's convertible top exists because in 1937, Rollston Coachworks (New York) was commissioned to fit the rare option of a fixed vee-windshield, a visual and aerodynamic enhancement from a time before curved-glass screens became practical.

Among the grandest and most romantic of the pre-war phaetons were the dual-cowl convertibles (ie a second windscreen was fitted for the rear seat passengers, doubtless an addition deemed "thoughtful" by women with "big hair") of the 1930s although, being very expensive in a time of what was for much of the population a time of austerity, few were built, the rich often reluctant to consume too conspicuously (though, behind closed doors, the extravagances continued).  Unlike the original horse-drawn carriages from which the name was appropriated, the cars so-described usually had a folding roof and either removable side windows (usually then called "side-curtains") or even glass able to be rolled-down.  Purists of course insist any "true" phaeton has no side windows, nor any roof (rigid or folding) but those were only ever conventions and not always adhered to even during the horse & buggy era.  In the age of the automobile, everything became elastic and "phaeton" became just another model name to be used as a manufacturer saw fit.  In an early example of this linguistic promiscuity, by the 1930s Buick was selling what would now be though a "four-door convertible" (with integrated winding windows) yet continued to use the phaeton label.  By then, the design parameters of the old designations from the days of horse-drawn carriages had long become "frayed around the edges" and whether modest Fords or the big dual-cowl Duesenbergs, Chryslers, Lincolns, Cadillacs and Packards, all were marketed as "phaetons" although the use of tops and side windows could vary.  In the post-war years, the four-door hardtop really was the the spiritual successor (in the sense of market place positioning) of the inter-war phaeton as rapidly the four-door convertibles faded from the scene; by the late 1970s, the four-door hardtops too would go extinct except for the odd example in the quirky world of the JDM (Japanese Domestic Market).  Today, like landau, phaeton is just a name which means nothing in particular although many seem aware both are evocative of something from the past.  In recent decades, there have been many off-road and utilitarian vehicles which, technically, are phaeton-like but they're hardly in the spirit of the machines of the 1930s.  

Parade Phaetons

Before there was crooked Hillary (Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013)), there was tricky Dicky.  Vice-President Richard Nixon (1913-1994; VPOTUS 1953-1961 & POTUS 1969-1974) at President Dwight Eisenhower's (1890-1969; POTUS 1953-1961) second Inaugural Parade, 21 January 1957 in 1952 Chrysler lmperial dual-cowl Parade Phaeton (one of three built).

Although "true" phaetons in the traditional sense, the name of Chrysler's 1952 parade cars delights obsessives in the collector-car community because of the corporate history.  Introduced in 1926, the Chrysler Imperial sat atop the company's brand hierarchy until 1954 when Imperial was (re-)launched as a standalone brand, the an arrangement lasting until 1975 (although even by 1972 the Chrysler name had crept back somewhat and the half-hearted revivals in 1981-1983 & 1990-1993 are not fondly remembered).  The 1952 parade phaetons thus properly are designated "Chrysler Imperials" although, being updated by the factory in 1955 with much of the sheet-metal and other fixtures from the 1956 Imperial, they resemble the latter and are sometimes erroneously so described.  So, although the appearance would suggest "Imperial", pedants gleefully will correct that to "Chrysler Imperial".

In happier times: Wedding procession of the ex-Duke & Duchess of York, traveling in the 1902 State Landau Carriage, London, 1986.

What the parade phaetons were intended to be were motorized versions of the "state landaus" now most familiar from footage of princes (and one ex-prince) of the UK's royal family getting married (at least to their first wife).  The best-known is the 1902-vintage "State Landau Carriage", seen of late in the wedding processions of (1) the then Prince of Wales (now King Charles (b 1948, King of the UK since 2022)) to Lady Diana Spencer (1961-1997) on 29 July, 1981 (2), the then Prince Andrew (now the ex-Prince, ex-Admiral, ex-Duke of York etc Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor (b 1960)) to Sarah Ferguson (b 1959) on 23 July, 1986 and (3) Prince William (b 1982 and since 2022 the Prince of Wales) to Catherine Middleton (b 1982) on 29 April 2011.  The State Landau Carriage had been built in 1902 by Messrs Hooper for the coronation procession (9 August, 1902) through London of of Edward VII (1841–1910; King of the UK & Emperor of India 1901-1910) and it's since been a central feature in much of the panoply assembled for "royal family set pieces", many of which are spectacles of most recent origin, created for the family's new role as content providers for mass media (color television probably the platform most influencing this latter-day choreography of spectacle).  Some of the royal marriages of those who sat in the carriage to and from the church where they promised state and God to remain together till death do them part didn't end well but, clearly not superstitious, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge ("Will & Kate" to readers of the Daily Mail) choose the 1902 Landau although Prince Harry (b 1984) and Meghan Markle (b 1981) decided not to risk the curse, riding instead in one of the five Ascot landaus in the Royal Mews.  Like phaeton, "landau" is a word that in earlier centuries once had a precise meaning when appearing in a coach-builder's catalogue but is now is just another model name. 

Chrysler Newport dual-cowl Phaeton by LeBaron (six of which were built in 1940-1941, left), 1952 Chrysler Imperial dual-cowl Phaeton (one of three, centre) & 1997 Chrysler dual-cowl Phaeton concept car (a genuine one-off, right).

Recalling the 1940 Chrysler Newport, the three dual-cowl parade phaetons were built on the chassis of the 1952 Chrysler Imperial Crown Limousine with the wheelbase extended by 3 inches (75 mm) to 147½ (3,746)).  All were constructed for ceremonial use by the US government and the municipal corporations of New York City and Los Angeles and they still make the odd appearance.  Obviously, a dual-cowl parade phaeton is a niche commodity and the three were thought the last of the breed but, in 1997, unexpectedly, Chrysler displayed a concept car in the same vein.  While obviously not intended for production, it did include an intoxicatingly attractive specification including a bespoke 48 valve, 333 cubic-inch (5.4 litre) V12 engine rated at 425 HP (horsepower).  With 5.4 litres and 425 horsepower (referencing respectively the 331 cubic inch V8 in the 1952 cars and the (understated) power output of the corporation's 426 Street Hemi V8 (1966-1971)) both being iconic numbers from Chrysler's happier past, the nostalgia button was pressed but the styling was something of a curate's egg.  While judged mostly an accomplished exercise, the front divided opinion; one could see what the designers were getting at but, to blend elements from both 1940 and 1955 may have been "a pastiche too far" and the thing may have been more admired still had the lines of 1955 front clip more slavishly been followed, the approach the Chinese manufacturer Honqqi wisely pursues for its "retro" exercises.     

Comrade Stalin's 1936 Packard Standard Eight Phaeton.  The Kremlin's "state parade car", it wasn't used during Moscow's colder months.

With roots in the nineteenth century, Packard had been one of the US industry's most storied names and, during the inter-war years (1919-1941), was among the most prestigious brands in the nation.  According to Ferrari folklore, it had been the sound of Packard V12s on race tracks that inspired Enzo Ferrari (1989-1988) to decide the machines to bear his name must “canta la canzone dei dodici” (sing the song of twelve) although, like Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955), many sometimes dubious quotes have been attributed to il Commendatore (his apparently envious quip about the Jaguar E-Type (XKE, 1961-1974) the best known) but all at least sound like something “he might have said” and, for folkloric purposes, that’s good enough.  What is uncontested was his remark “Una Ferrari è una macchina a dodici cilindri” (a Ferrari is a twelve cylinder car), explaining why the 206 GT (1967-1969) was a “Dino” and not a “Ferrari”.  Clearly that applied only to the road cars because, on the track, the factory had enjoyed great success in the 1950s & 1960s using four, six & eight cylinder engines but reality anyway bit in the more troubled 1970s and Ferrari V8s became (by the factory’s historic standards), “mass-market” road cars.

A 1936 Packard Standard Eight Phaeton was for years the designated “parade car” in the Kremlin garage but, as tensions rose in the Soviet Union, comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) became more security conscious, ceasing to ride in open-topped vehicles, preferring the armored Packard Twelve limousine gifted to him by Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR, 1882–1945, POTUS 1933-1945).  Despite weighing some six tons (one door alone a hefty 348 kg (767 lb)), the 473 cubic in (7.8 litre) V12 was able to propel the car (despite its suspect aerodynamic qualities) to a reputed top speed of 130 km/h (80 mph); at that pace the gas (petrol) consumption would have been “heroic” (likely mid-single figures in mpg (miles per gallon) terms) but high fuel bills didn’t greatly trouble the comrades in the Politburo.  The fine engineering in the Kremlin’s fleet of Packards proved useful in the early years of the Cold War, the ZiS 110 sedan (1946-1958) & ZiS-115 limousine (1948-1949) (the brand better known in the West as “Zil”) both “reversed-engineered” (ie copied) versions of the 1942 Packard.  Reverse-engineering was a notable feature of Soviet industry and much of its post-war re-building of machinery for the armed forces involved the process, exemplified by the Tupolev Tu-4 heavy bomber (1947), a remarkably close copy of the US Boeing B-29 Superfortress (1942), a reasonably achievement given some of the advanced metallurgical techniques then available on to the Americans.

End of the line: the gape-mouthed 1958 Packard Hawk, one of the so-called "Packardbakers".  Of the final 2,622 Packards made in 1958, 588 were Hawks.

Other countries also adopted the practice that, in some places, continues to this day for both consumer goods and military equipment.  After spending the war years engaged in military production (notably a version of the Merlin V12 aero-engine built under license from Rolls-Royce), Packard emerged in 1945 in sound financial state but found the new world challenging, eventually in 1953 merging with fellow struggling independent, Studebaker.  Beset form the start by internal conflict, things went from bad to worse and, after dismal sales in 1958-1959 of the final Packards (which were really modified Studebakers and derided by many as “Packardbakers”), the Packard brand was retired, the Studebaker-Packard Corporation in 1962 reverting to again become Studebaker but it was to no avail, the last Studebaker leaving the line (in Canada!) in 1967.

For both, it had been a rapid and precipitous decline from great success, one notable product of Studebaker being the 152,000-odd US6 trucks supplied by the US to the Soviet Union under the wartime “lend-lease” arrangements, comrade Stalin during the Tehran Conference (Nov-Dec 1943) raising a toast and freely admitting “Without the machines we received through Lend-Lease, we would have lost the war.”.  Unfortunately, the still sometimes quoted tale that comrade Stalin sent a personal “thank-you letter” to the Studebaker Corporation appears wholly apocryphal.  According to the Studebaker National Museum, an official “letter of appreciation” from the Soviet government was received through “normal diplomatic channels” but it neither mentioned comrade Stalin nor bore his signature.  The rugged US6 (nicknamed Studer by Red Army troops who much appreciated its durability and ability to handle the mud and snow so often a feature of the Eastern Front) appears often in the conflict’s photographic record because it was the platform used to mount the famous Katyusha rocket launchers (a weapon nicknamed “Stalin’s Organs” because of the distinctive sound made when being fired in multiple salvos).  In the post-war years, the WS6 was also reverse-engineered, influencing several generations of Soviet truck design, a breed admired more for toughness than aesthetics.

FDR & Ford

1937 Ford V8 Phaeton

As the American car buyer came to prefer the creature comforts offered by closed coupés & sedans or convertibles (with "proper", wind-down glass windows), sales of the more basically configured roadsters and phaetons began in the 1930s rapidly to decline.  In small numbers, the exotic dual cowl phaetons continued to appeal to those who wanted something extravagant in which to be chauffeured on warm, sunny days but for those for whom economics dictated ownership of a single vehicle, the attractions of protection from the elements was persuasive, especially in a northern winter.  Surprisingly, it was Ford, a pioneer (if not the originator) in the techniques of mass-production and the optimization of economies of scale that, despite the line's shrinking profitability, kept the roadster and phaeton on the books longer than most, their last roadster built in 1937 and the final phaeton the following year although production in 1938 ran to a mere 1169 cars, little more than an administrative inconvenience for a company used to measuring unit-production in chunks of tens of thousands.  When the Ford line was updated for 1939, the phaeton was deleted from the catalogue.

FDR and two presidential advisors (his granddaughters) in his 1936 Ford V8 Phaeton (one of 13 body-styles Ford that year made available for the V8), supervising the construction of the Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library and Museum (dedicated 1941), Hyde Park, New York (left) and FDR in Phaeton with signature (Cocktail length) cigarette holder (right).

Now on permanent display in the museum (the odometer reading 19,143 miles (30,808 km), the New York license plate was “3” with the governor allocated “1” and the lieutenant governor “2” (that hierarchy reflecting late eighteenth century political thought in the states, a view that would decline in significance after the US Civil War (1861-1865)).  Afflicted at 39 by polio that left him paralyzed from the waist down, FDR’s cars were fitted with hand controls for the throttle, brakes & clutch, a cigarette dispenser always included as was a customized clip for his cigarette holder.  By social convention, in the US, men rarely used a cigarette holder longer than 4 inches (100 mm) although there were longer varieties and the “Opera length” was a favorite of Vogue’s editors who liked to have a slender model photographed elegantly holding one at a time when smoking was both “sexy” and “fashionable”.  The “Operas” typically were between 16-20 inches (400-200 mm) while more conveniently-sized versions included the “Theatre length” (10-14 (250-350)), “Dinner length” (4-6 (100-150)) and “Cocktail length” (1-3 (25-75).

The Art Deco Society of New York's lovey art deco examples of the sort of cigarette case and holders that should have been in the handbag of the modern young woman.

It’s an urban myth Vogue ever recommended that if wearing something “sleeveless”, women’s choice of cigarette holder should be in inverse proportion to their gloves' length (ie an Opera thus be paired with a “Short” or “Wrist”, a Theatre with an “Above Wrist” or “Three Quarter”, a Dinner with a “Below Elbow or “Elbow” and a Cocktail with a “Upper Arm”, “Underarm” or “Maxi”).  That might sound counterintuitive but it was claimed the goal was for the holder to be "in accord" with the expanse of skin on display, not the material of the glove.  It was fake news but appears sometimes still, along with claims there were in polite society “strict” rules of etiquette about such things.  There was a widely adopted convention under which women removed their gloves before smoking, eating or drinking but that was just good sense and glove length was anyway dictated by the time of day or nature of the event to which a pair was worn.  Vogue did however confirm a cigarette holder was “an essential accessory for any fashionable woman” but was most focused more on the materials used in construction, a 1930 article listing what a “smart woman” should keep in her handbag, recommending “a black enamel cigarette holder in a small eggshell case by Dunhill (for day) and a Cartier gold and tortoiseshell cigarette holder (for evening; other “handbag essentials” included “a tortoiseshell comb, a bill clip, a vanity case, a cigarette case and other “examples of charm and good taste.”  It’s little wonder Vogue came to be called the “fashion bible” although in the modern era not all followed all the advice; as far as is known, Lindsay Lohan has never been photographed using a cigarette holder or carrying a cigarette case and although smoking can't be recommended, she did make it look alluring.

2004 Volkswagen Phaeton W12.  Well-built, dynamically more than competent with great attention to detail (the trunk (boot) lid's hinges pieces of mechanical artistry) but, even by the slight standards of the market segment, the depreciation rate was extraordinary.

A Volkswagen that should have been an Audi or (not inconceivable, even then) a Lamborghini (both brands part of the VW conglomerate), the Volkswagen Phaeton was produced between 2002-2016 as a four-door sedan in a standard and LWB (long-wheelbase configurations), the Phaeton name nothing to do with the traditional definition and chosen presumably because it was thought to impart some vague notion of exclusivity and wealth.  The name may have come from focus group sessions or have been MBA (Master of Business Administration) marketing-think but, in retrospect, naming it after a figure from Greek mythology who "crashed & burned" was perhaps tempting the gods of fate.  Because cars now mostly "look alike" (everybody's shapes now emerge from a wind-tunnel looking much the same), it's no longer as easy to fashion "brand identity" with appearance so the choice of name can help and what the company was at the time attempting to do was make people perceive Volkswagen as a true "luxury brand", the "modest success" (ie failure) enjoyed when the W8 engine was between 2001-2004 offered at high-price in the smaller VW Passat seemingly not a sufficiently salutatory lesson.  Volkswagen would once have had a solid base from which to "mover up-market because the Beetle (Type 1, 1938-2003), despite being a "low-priced" car, gained an admirable reputation for quality; inside, if felt as if forged from a billet of steel.  Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever and after 1974, when the company's shift to the flimsier world of FWD (front-wheel-drive) began in earnest, that reputation suffered; in a sense, the "Phaeton project" began a quarter century too late.  Why the MBAs didn’t take note of why Toyota created Lexus (so they would have their own "Audi") isn’t clear but they may have been the same folk who couldn’t understand the Maybach name made sense positioned below Mercedes-Benz, not above.  The principles used in the washing powder business or other sectors in which the MBAs have done good work are not universally transferable.

Mercedes-Benz 600 (W100, 1963-1981) Landaulet and two (SWB) sedans.

The 1970 Pullman Landaulet (one of twelve known informally as the "presidential" because the folding portion of the roof extended to the driver's compartment, the other 58 Landaulets having a convertible top only over the rear seat) was purchased by the Romanian government and used by comrade president Nicolae Ceaușescu (1918–1989; General Secretary of the Romanian Communist Party 1965-1989) until he and his wife were executed (by AK47) after a “people's tribunal” held a brief trial, the swiftness of which was aided by the court-appointed defense counsel who declared them both guilty, inter alia, of genocide.   Considering the fate of other fallen dictators, their end was less gruesome than might have been expected.  Comrade Josip Broz Tito (1892–1980; prime-minister or president of Yugoslavia 1944-1980) had a similar car (among other 600s) but he died undisturbed in his bed.

The blue SWB (short wheelbase) car to the rear is one of the few SWB models fitted with a divider between the front & rear compartments, the structure including a pair of hand-crafted timber writing tables and a refrigerated bar in the centre.  It was delivered in 1977 to the Iranian diplomatic service and maintained for the Shah’s use.  The 1969 SWB to the right (identified as a US market car by the disfiguring headlight treatment) had a less eventful past, purchased by a California real estate developer who took advantage of the Mercedes-Benz EDP (European Delivery Program, discontinued in 2020 after some 60 years), collecting the 600 from the Stuttgart factory.  With due respect to Californian property developers (and Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978) who had a very special one), more than any other car the 600 seemed to attract dictators, leading drug dealers, megalomaniacs and those with dubious past or present (many owing several), the roll-call including:

Park Chung Hee (1917–1979; President of RoK (Republic of Korea (South Korea)) 1962-1979).

Comrade Enver Hoxha (1908-1985; dictator of Albanian 1944-1985) who was more of a Stalinist than comrade Stalin.

Pol Pot (Saloth Sâr; 1925–1998; dictator of the communist (Maoist) state of Democratic Kampuchea (Cambodia) 1975-1979).

François "Papa Doc" Duvalier (1907–1971; President of Haiti 1957-1971).

Jean-Claude "Baby Doc" Duvalier (1951–2014; President of Haiti 1971-1986) who would have been a disappointment to his father.

Jean-Bédel Bokassa (1921–1996; President or Emperor of the CAR (Central African Republic) 1966-1979) who was never convicted of cannibalism.

Comrade Leonid Brezhnev (1906–1982; Soviet leader 1964-1982) who was fond of cars but an appallingly bad driver.

Comrade Fidel Castro (1926–2016; Prime Minister or President of Cuba 1959-2008).

Robert Mugabe (1924–2019; Prime Minister or President of Zimbabwe 1980-2017) who started off well.

Hirohita (Emperor Shōwa) 1901–1989; Emperor of Japan 1926-1989), the last of the World War II leaders and the one who worked out (after the dropping of two A-bombs) that "...the war situation has developed not necessarily to Japan's advantage".   

Jomo Kenyatta (circa 1897–1978; Prime Minister (1963-1964) & president of Kenya (1964-1978).

Daniel arap Moi (1924–2020; President of Kenya 1978-2002).

Ferdinand Marcos (1917–1989; President of the Philippines 1965-1986), now most famous for his wife having owned thousands of pairs of shoes. 

Kim Il Sung (Kim I, 1912–1994; Great Leader of DPRK (Democratic People's Republic of Korea (North Korea)) 1948-1994).

Kim Jong Il (Kim II, 1941-2011; Dear Leader of DPRK 1994-2011).

Kim Jong Un (Kim III, b 1982; Supreme Leader of DPRK since 2011 and thus far the dynasty's most entertaining content provider).

Saddam Hussein (1937–2006; President of Iraq 1979-2003).

Mohammad Reza Pahlavi (1919–1980; last Shah of Iran 1941-1979).

Comrade Chairman Mao Zedong (1893–1976; Chairman of the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) & paramount leader of the PRC (People's Republic of China) 1949-1976).

Comrade Deng Xiaoping (1904–1997; paramount leader of the PRC (People's Republic of China) 1978-1989).

Norodom Sihanouk (1922–2012; variously, off and on, King, head of state or Prime Minister of Cambodia 1941-2012) for whom the word "mercurial" might have been coined. 

Comrade Nicolae Ceaușescu (1918–1989; General Secretary of the Romanian Communist Party and dictator of Romania 1965-1989) who got the wife he deserved.

Comrade Josip Broz Tito (1892–1980; Prime Minister or President of Yugoslavia 1944-1980) who once threatened to send an assassin to kill comrade Stalin if the Soviet leader sent any more to Belgrade to murder him.  

His Excellency, President for Life, Field Marshal Al Hadji Doctor Idi Amin Dada, VC, DSO, MC, CBE, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Seas and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular, (1928-2003; president of Uganda 1971-1979).  He also claimed the allegedly vacant throne of Scotland 

Mobutu Sese Seko (1930–1997; President of the of the DRC (Democratic Republic of the Congo) 1965-1971 and the (renamed) Zaire 1971-1997) for whom the political technique "Mobutoism" (a blend of crony capitalism, repression, murder and looting the state on such a scale was coined, "kleptocracy" not an adequate description. 

Herbert von Karajan (1908–1989; Austrian conductor who was only ever a "Nazi of convenience).

Coco Chanel, (1883-1971; French fashion designer forgiven for her indiscretions).

Hastings Banda (circa 1900-1997; Prime Minister or President of 1964-1994) who wasn't quite as bad as some.

Hosni Mubarak (1928–2020; President of Egypt 1981-2011) who sometimes shouted at Bill Clinton (b 1946; POTUS 1993-2001).

Balthazar Johannes "John" Vorster (1915–1983 Prime Minister (1966-1978) and President of South Africa 1978-1979).

Pieter Willem "P.W." Botha (1916–2006 Prime Minister (1978-1984) and President of South Africa 1984-1989).

Frederik Willem "F.W." de Klerk (1936–2021; President of South Africa 1989-1994) who found the state's 600 Pullman "embarrassingly large and otherwise excessive" and had it locked away in a garage.

General Muhammad Zia-ul-Haq (1924-1988; military ruler of Pakistan 1977-1988).

Omar Bongo (1935–2009; President of Gabon 1967-2009) who "stole a few bob".

Silvio Berlusconi (1936-2023; Prime Minister of Italy 1994-1995, 2001-2006 & 2008-2011) who got a bit of fun out of life.

Pablo Escobar (1949–1993; Colombian drug lord, narcoterrorist and zookeeper)

Zulfikar Ali Bhutto (1928–1979; President (1971-1973) and Prime Minister (1973-1977) of Pakistan, a member of one of the several families to have run Pakistan on the same basis as a "small family business".

Jeremy Clarkson (b 1960; former BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation) television presenter and now owner of Diddly Squat Farm).  Just as the 600's reputation was beginning to recover from the association with murderous dictators, drug lords and such, it was revealed Mr Clarkson owned one.  Experts suggest there may be no recovering from that.

The Shah's 600s at the Tehran Car Museum.

In exile, the Shah of Iran died of natural causes after being deposed in the 1979 revolution which created the Islamic Republic of Iran under the rule of the Imam, Grand Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini (1900-1989; Supreme Leader, Islamic Republic of Iran, 1979-1989).  The ayatollah's taste in cars was more modest but three of the Shah's Mercedes-Benz 600s are among the dozens on display (over a hundred in storage or undergoing restoration) at the Tehran Car Museum, open to the public Sunday-Wednesday (09:00-17:30) & Thursday & Friday (09:00-18:30).  It is closed on Saturday.   The museum is located at Azadi Square, Special Karaj Road, near Sepah Store while the office is situated on Resalat Highway, not far from Africa Highway, at the Foundation of the Oppressed, Building Number One, Fourth Floor, Cultural Institute of Museums.

That class of clientele associated with the 600 wasn't as drawn to the Volkswagen Phaeton.  For the top VW there were six cylinder petrol and diesel engines and even a V10 diesel but what attracted most interest (if not buyers) was the choice of a 4.2 litre (255 cubic inch) V8 or a 6.0 litre (366 cubic inch) W12, the most potent of the latter rated at a then impressive 444 HP (horsepower).  Unfortunately, most who could afford the hefty price lingered not long over the impressive specification but focused instead on the badge, still so associated with the old Beetle.  By all accounts, the Phaeton was a fine piece of engineering and highly regarded by the critics but, over fifteen years, fewer than 85,000 were sold, the line never profitable and the depreciation on the W12 was famously high, the failure of the range always explained by the lack of cachet the VW brand enjoyed at that end of the market.  Failure is however a relative term, Mercedes-Benz in the 18-odd years between 1963-1981 managed to produce only 2677 of their sinister 600s yet it lent the marque a luster that, although tarnished by some decisions and products of the last quarter-century, lingers to this day, despite the tireless efforts by MBAs to devalue things.  Although doubtlessly also sold at a loss, Mercedes-Benz gained much from the 600; VW got little from the Phaeton.