Courtesy

Courtesy (pronounced kur-tuh-see or kurt-see (now rare))

(1) Excellence of manners or social conduct; polite behaviour.

(2) A respectful or considerate act or expression.

(3) Indulgence, consent, or acquiescence; something granted or extended in the absence of any specific right.

(4) Favor, consent, help, or generosity.

(5) An alternative spelling of curtsy (archaic and probably obsolete).

(6) Something done or performed as a matter of politeness or protocol.

(7) Something offered or provided free by the management.

(8) In law, the life interest that the surviving husband has in the real or heritable estate of his wife.

1175–1225: From the Middle English curteisie (courtly ideals; chivalry, chivalrous conduct; elegance of manners, politeness (also “a courteous act, act of civility or respect”)), from the Old French curteisie & cortoisie (courtliness, noble sentiments; courteousness; generosity) (which in modern French endures as courtoisie), from curteis (courteous).  The construct was courteo(u)s +‎ -y (the abstract noun suffix).  From the late thirteenth century the word was used and understood as “good will, kindness” but it gained the sense of “a reward, a gift” an echo of that enduring in the modern term “by courtesy of” (something received without payment or other consideration).  By the mid-fourteenth century courtesy was part of etiquette in the sense of “refinement, gentlemanly conduct” and related to that is the development of curteisie (source of the English “curtsy”.  The noun discourtesy (incivility, bad manners, rudeness) was in use by at least the 1550s and may have been influenced by the fifteenth century Old French discourtoisie, from discourtois although other forces in English construction were anyway by then prevalent.  The idea of a discourtesy being an “an act of disrespect” emerged late in the sixteenth century.  There is in polite society the notion of “common courtesy” which means the obligation to afford a certain respect to all, regardless of their status and courtesy is thought a good quality and a marker of civilization.  Clearly however, one can have “too much of a good thing” because some style and etiquette guides note the rare noun “overcourtesy” (excessive courtesy) which can suggest obsequiousness, sycophancy, or needless, time-consuming formalism.  Courtesy is a noun, verb & adjective, courtesying is a noun & verb, courtesied is a verb; the noun plural is courtesies.

The noun curtsy seems to have appeared in the 1540s with the sense of “an expression of respect (ie a variant of courtesy) while the specific meaning “a bending the knee and lowering the body as a gesture of respect” dates from the 1570s and the gesture was not then exclusive to women, the convention “men bow; women curtsy” not (more or less) standardized in England until the 1620s.  Predictably, it was the Victorians who coined “courtesy call” to refer to “a visit made for the sake of politeness”, in use by at least 1898.  The term was adopted as part of the language of diplomacy, describing the (usually symbolic) formal visits an ambassador or other emissary of a state makes to a head of state or other local official “out of courtesy” (ie with no substantive purpose).  That notion vaguely was related to the admiralty practice of the “courtesy flag”; a visiting vessel by convention and as a mark of respect flying the flag of the host nation (as well as that of her own) when entering port.  Perhaps opportunistically, in commerce, “courtesy card” is used as the alternative name for the “customer loyalty card” while the “courtesy clerk” was the employee who “bagged customers' purchases”; they were also called the “bagger” and the species is believed now functionally extinct, even in Japan where, until the “lost decade” (the 1990s although many economists claim that epoch has yet to end), they were once an established part of “shop culture”.  Probably the most memorable use of the word is in the term “courtesy flush” which is the “mid-sitting flush” (of a toilet) performed by men thoughtful enough to wish to avoid inflicting on others: “unpleasant odours”.

1973 Imperial LeBaron Four-Door Hardtop (left) and 1978 Chrysler New Yorker Brougham Coupe (right).  In cars, courtesy lamps (or lights, seen illuminated in the left-rear door kick panel (left)) are located where light may be needed (start buttons, where a passenger is about to put their feet etc) and they differ from “specific purpose” lights such as “map reading” lights (seen illuminated, right).  The significance of the name was in the “courtesy” the fittings exercised by automatically switching on when a door was opened.  By contrast, a map-reading light manually was activated as required.  Map-reading lights were fitted on more expensive vehicles because before maps migrated to glowing screens, they were on paper and to be read in a low-light environment, an external light source was needed.  

Both “uncourtesy” and “discourtesy” have at times been in use and the difference primarily is one of usage frequency, historical development, and semantic nuance.  Discourtesy is the established, idiomatic noun in modern English and is used variously to denote rudeness, a lack of courtesy, an impolite act and such.  The form emulated a use in the Old French and it has been in continuous, standard usage since the Middle English period; in contemporary English, it remains the correct and expected form.  Uncourtesy literally means “absence of courtesy” but has for centuries been rare and now is close to obsolete, appearing only in historic references or as a literary device.  That reflects the way English evolves because although the word adhered to the use of the un- prefix pattern (as in unkindness), people for whatever reason settled on the dis- form for this lexeme.  In structural linguistics, it’s true that because of the Latin origin of the “dis-” prefix, that would imply “reversal-negation-deprivation” whereas the Germanic “un-” would suggest “simple negation, but English lexical convention matters more than morphology and the pattern of use has made “discourtesy” the standard noun.  Probably that was a consequence of the Latin-influenced forms gaining sociolinguistic prestige over those words with a Germanic core from the native, Old English vocabulary.  After the Norman Conquest (1066 and all that), what came later to be known as the “Romance superstratum” (the massive influx of words and elements from Norman French and Latin) rapidly undertook a form of linguistic colonialism and words which entered English through French or Latin often arrived morphologically pre-packaged with Romance affixes; English did not build discourtesy from scratch; either it was inherited or imposed, depending on one’s views of such processes and that history is the reason disloyal & dishonest emerged and endured while unloyal & unhonest did not.  Pragmatically though, speakers settled, on a case-by-case-basis on whichever worked best: thus untruth, unlikely and such prevailing because they were the most pleasing pure negations, something more significant than the tendency for native Germanic bases to take “un-”, however a robust morphological bias this may describe.

Prelude to a handover: Donald Trump (left) and Barak Obama (right) shaking hands, the White House, November, 2016.  The handshake is one one of humanity's oldest courtesies. 

Barack Obama (b 1961; POTUS 2009-2017) was known carefully to choose his words (indeed, he’d complain he thought himself a better speech-writer than those hired to do the job) and he used “courtesy” when issuing something of a lament at the depiction of him and his wife (Michelle Obama (b 1964; FLOTUS 2009-2017) as “digitally altered” apes in a video shared by Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025) on his Truth Social platform.  Although President Obama’s artful text only “indirectly addressed the racist video”, few would have failed to draw the connection between the two and for students of the technique, his response was a fine example of Michelle Obama’s “when they go low, we go high” school of thought.  While not mentioning the president, Obama observed there seemed no longer “…any shame about this among people who used to feel like you had to have some sort of decorum and a sense of propriety and respect for the office” but “that’s been lost”, adding “there's this sort of clown show that's happening in social media and on television.”  While he understood the political value in such a post because “it gets attention” and is “a distraction”, his feeling was “it's important to recognise that the majority of the American people find this behaviour deeply troubling” and that when travelling around the nation, he would meet people who “still believe in decency, courtesy, kindness.”

Behind the famous lectern: Karoline Leavitt (b 1997; White House press secretary since 2025) who also has retreated a little from previously well-established standards of courtesy.

For a president to have reposted such an obviously racist trope would even a year ago have been unthinkable and a major political scandal but so rapidly has the culture shifted that within barely 48 hours, it had fallen from the news cycle, relegated to just another footnote in the history of Trump 2.0 (which definitely is not Trump 1.1).  Although there was widespread, if remarkably muted criticism from both Republicans and Democrats, the White House initially defended the video, calling the backlash “fake outrage” before noting the volume and deleting the video, blaming the sharing on an (unnamed) member of staff.  Citing the actions by the staffer, Mr Trump said “I didn't make a mistake” and thus would not be issuing an apology, adding he’d not watched the whole clip so didn’t see the offensive image.  Analysts of such things were divided on whether the fact the posting happened “in the middle of the night” made the “staffer cover story” less or more plausible but all that information attracted renewed interest when, a couple of days, from the famous lectern, Karoline Leavitt asserted everything posted on President Trump’s social media account comes “directly” from him: “It’s coming straight from the horse’s mouth” as she put it.  “When you see it on Truth Social, you know it’s directly from President Trump. That’s the beauty of this president, his transparency in relaying the administration’s policies to the rest of you and the world.”  Trumpologists were left to make of that what they could.

In literature, the “courtesy book” was a “book of etiquette” but many of the early editions of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries went beyond the merely prescriptive in that they embodied a philosophy of the art of living (elegantly and with virtù (Italian for “virtue)) and provided a guide to help.  The ones which survive are noted for their high literary standard and are of great interest to historians because they’re an invaluable source for the history of education, ideas, customs and social behaviour of certain classes.  While the readership of some originally would have been the “upper middle class” or those who aspired to attain that status or at least emulate their manners, there were also courtesy books written for servants going to work in the houses or on the estates of the gentry; these existed so they’d know “how to behave”.  From the fifteenth century, changes in society were profound as the mass production of gunpowder and books exerted their respective influences and it was in this era the concept of “the gentleman” can be said to have emerged in a recognizably modern form, best understood in the most refined version in the term “Renaissance man”; from this point, culture and education really became courtesy's companion terms.  In earlier times, there had been what were known as “conduct books” but the emphasis in these was on morality deportment, manners and religion; they were very much in the “thou shall not” tradition of repressive Christianity.  Reflecting the way the Renaissance spread north and west, among the most influential of the courtesy books were those publish in Venice in the 1520s & 1530s, some of which began to appear in English translation by the mid-1570s.

Woodcut illustration for Book II (Cantos VII-XII) of The Faerie Queene (1590) by Edmund Spenser (circa 1552-1599).

Although The Faerie Queene was an epic-length poem recounting tales of knightly exploits and written in a deliberately archaic style, it merged history and myth, drawing especially on the Arthurian legends with each of the books an allegorical following of a knight who represents a particular virtue (holiness, temperance, chastity, friendship, justice and courtesy) which will be tested by the plot.  It’s long been of interest to scholars of the work of William Shakespeare (1564–1616) because Book Two appears to be a source for much of King Lear (circa 1605) (and has drawn the ire of some feminists) but some critics have suggest it can (almost) be described as the “Bible of Renaissance anthropocentric humanism, which, in its most idealistic form, was a sort of apotheosis of man.”  That may seem a little “purple” but in The Faerie Queene, with its depictions of the Renaissance conceptions of knightly and chivalrous conduct, the author’s purpose was clear.  Indeed, in the dedication he wrote: “The generall end therefore of all the booke is to fashion a gentleman or noble person in virtuous and gentle discipline.”  In scope and literary form, it’s regarded still the “most ambitious courtesy book of all.”

Mandy all dressed up but now with no place to go: The Right Honourable Peter “Mandy” Mandelson PC, Baron Mandelson of Foy and Hartlepool (b 1953) in the scarlet robes (the white trim now miniver or even faux fur rather than the traditional ermine) worn on certain ceremonial occasions in the House of Lords.

In 2008, Gordon Brown (b 1951; UK prime-minister 2007-2010), for reasons understandable if not admirable, granted Mandy a barony (the lowest step on the UK's five-rung peerage system), thereby "ennobling" him with a seat in the House of Lords.  The peerage entitled him (for life) to use the title "Lord" and, as one of His Majesty's privy counsellors (appointed in 1998), he may (again for life) add a post-nominal "PC" and be styled "the Right Honourable".  The membership of the Privy Council (essentially, members of the UK cabinet and a select few others) is unusual in that even if members cease to hold the role which justified their appointment, they don't cease to be a member; they just are "not summoned".

However, unlike the removal of a peerage (which requires an act of parliament), any member may at any time resign from the council as would be expected in the case of a scandal which can't be "swept under the mat" as in the preferred practice in Westminster, one famous example being John Profumo (1915–2006) who in 1963 (while aged 56, "happily married" and serving as Secretary of State for War (ie minister of defence)) was found to be having an affair with a young lady of 19 who simultaneously also was enjoying the affections of a KGB spy attached to the Soviet embassy in London.  That scandal played a part in dooming a Tory (Conservative Party) government which had been in office 13 years but never has Mandy been accused of sleeping with women who are in some state of concubinage with the Kremlin's spies so that's one transgression of which he'll never be accused.  Mandy since 2008 has for most purposes been styled as “Lord Mandelson” and that is not a courtesy title because as a “life peer” Mandy enjoys the same privileges (other than not being able to pass the barony to an eldest son) as one who inherited his barony and were he to have children, they would be entitled to style themselves “the honourable”.  It’s believed he does not plan to have children.

As a footnote, for everyone except royalty, some of the the five notches in the UK's peerage system now exist only for historic reference or to keep track of the still extant holders of the titles no longer or rarely created.  All the life peers are barons while since the mid-1960s the creation of viscounts (rung 2) & earls (rung 3) as hereditary titles has been rare and restricted to a handful of (mostly Tory) political party grandees.  No marquess (rung 4) has been created since 1936 and that may be symbolic because while it had become something of a convention to grant retiring prime ministers an earldom, a returning Viceroy of India had come to expect a marquessate.  Dukedoms (rung 5) have not been awarded to non-royal personages since the nineteenth century and the last recipient with no connection to a royal household by marriage enjoyed their elevation in 1874.  Within the family, the palace continues to dole-out dukedoms, earldoms & viscountcies to themselves, none of which appear to be merit-based awards but merit is hardly a concept the royal family would much like to intrude into any conversation involving them.  In truth, for those few who ponder such things, the practice probably is thought a harmless quaintness with even the most ardent monarchist likely to struggle to suggest exactly what Prince Edward (b 1964) has achieved to deserve being also Earl of Wessex (created 1999), Earl of Forfar (created 2019) and Duke of Edinburgh (granted 2023) although he might point out he’s not as bad as his brother Andrew so there’s that. 

Mandy in underpants (presumably his but who knows?).  There is no suggestion Mandy engaged in inappropriate or improper conduct with this unidentified young lady.

The photograph was released by the US DoJ (Department of Justice) in one of the tranches of files related to convicted paedophile sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein (1953–2019).  It was shot in Epstein's New York City apartment when asked about the circumstances, his lordship responded by saying he “did not recall”.  About that (lack of) recollection, some were uncharitably cynical but it does seem plausible given (1) Mandy doubtless spent much time meeting folk while wandering Epstein’s apartment in his underpants and (2) because Epstein had so many “acquaintances”, Mandy could hardly be expected to remember them all.

There are many “courtesy titles”, a class of address loosely defined as those governed by social convention, long-established practice or even administrative convenience.  In the UK’s intricate peerage system, courtesy titles are those used by certain relatives of peers, even though they do not themselves hold a substantive peerage and are not in law members of the peerage so thus never conferred with any right to sit in the House of Lords.  Although almost universally acknowledged, the courtesy titles are sustained only by convention rather than letters patent.  The interaction of the multi-tiered structure of the UK’s peerage system and the distinctions between (1) elder & younger sons and (2) daughters means there are a number of “rules” for courtesy titles but collectively they mean, for most purposes, depending on which rung on the peerage their father stands, sons commonly are styled either “Lord” or “The Honourable” and daughters “Lady” or “The Honourable”.  Wives also gain a honorific with them being granted a style based on the peerage held by their husband although other than the wives of dukes (who are “duchesses”), for most purposes, the convention follows calling non-ducal male peers “Lord” in that the wives are styled “Lady”.  Complicating all this is there are now also female peers so while, for example, the wife of a baron usually would be styled “Lady”, if a woman in her own right holds a barony, the most pedantic would use “baroness”.  All this may sound arcane but when moving in certain circles the official Order of Precedence can be socially consequential because, when attending events, it can dictate things like where one gets to sit and (more significantly), with whom.  So, the significance of the element “courtesy” in “courtesy title” is that use is “a courtesy extended” and not “a right acknowledged”.  That’s why Mr Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor (b 1960, formerly Prince Andrew, Duke of York, Admiral etc) was not deprived of being styled “Lord” (something usually attached to the younger son of a duke) because, in the legal sense, the title never existed, such use a mere (though widely observed) convention.  Of course, anyone can if they wish call him “Lord Andrew” though it seems unlikely many will bother.  Maybe his ex-wife will grant him that one final courtesy.

Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) coveted medals and decorations but had little interest in titles; although the grandson of a Duke of Marlborough, his self-image was that of “a great House of Commons man” and one peer once lamented: “The House of Lords means nothing to him”, another noble noting: “he thinks us a collection of disreputable old gentlemen”.  In opposition in 1946 he’d been offered a KG (Knight The Most Noble Order of the Garter (1348), the oldest and most senor knighthood in the UK’s orders of chivalry) but declined because he didn’t like the idea of receiving something recommended by a socialist prime minister.  In 1953, back in office, he accepted because “now only the queen decides” but did regret having to become “Sir Winston” rather than the plain “Mr Churchill” he claimed to prefer, observing to the cabinet secretary: “I don’t see why I should not have the Garter but continue to be known as Mr Churchill.  After all, my father was known as Lord Randolph Churchill, but he was not a lord.  That was only a courtesy title.  Why should I not continue to be called Mr Churchill as a discourtesy title?”  Sir Winston he became although his wife (1885-1977) would have preferred he not accept.  Other wives have been keener, the New Zealand trade union leader Sir Tom Skinner (1909–1991; President of the NZ FoL (Federation of Labour) 1959-1979) explaining to colleagues that while he had no wish to be Sir Tom, he didn’t fancy going home to tell his wife she wouldn’t soon be “Lady Skinner” although, given the darkly comic possibilities in that moniker, some women might have had second thoughts.

Woodrow Wilson (left) and Colonel House (right), New York City, 1916.

In the US, south of the Mason-Dixon Line, there have been many “captains” and “colonels” who had little or no military experience and some became well known including the Dutch-born impresario Colonel Tom Parker (1909–1997) who managed the singer Elvis Presley (1935-1977) and Colonel Edward House (1858–1938) who was for years the most influential of the camarilla in the White House of Woodrow Wilson (1856–1924; POTUS 1913-1921).  Colonel House had been a king-maker in Texas politics but during World War I (1914-1918) it was his advice in international relations Wilson often preferred and, despite lacking any background in matters of European politics, was appointed the US’s senior diplomat at the Paris Peace Conference (1919).  Disappointed by the outcome of the conference and feeling deceived by House who had, during the president’s absence in Washington DC, made certain decisions on his behalf, Wilson sundered their relationship; after House returned to the US, they would never meet again.  To the president it had been simply a matter of the colonel “getting ideas above his station” but, to his dying day, House believed the estrangement was engineered at least in part by the second Mrs Wilson (1872-1961), the “blame the wife” theory a recurrent theme in dynastic and political history.  There was of course also Colonel Harland Sanders (1890–1980) who was 1935 was created a member of the HOKC (Honorable Order of Kentucky Colonels) by Ruby Laffoon (1869–1941; governor of Kentucky 1931-1935) and his memory lives on in the fast food KFC (Kentucky Fried Chicken), a culinary institution now with more international recognition than the HOKC despite “Kentucky Colonel” being the highest honor bestowed by the state and the nation’s best-known colonelcy.

Colonel Sanders outside a Kentucky Fried Chicken store.  The latte-day name change to "KFC" was effected because the word "fried" had gained negative connotations.

The title became much associated with Texas and many of the Southern States. It was Texas Governor Jim Hogg (1851–1906; governor of Texas 1891-1895) who in 1893 appointed Edward House as a member of his gubernatorial staff, granting him the honorary rank which recipients were entitled to keep for life.  It was something that carried no military command or responsibilities and no federal commission, operating at the “social and political” level something like a Rotary Club membership in that while it conferred a certain perception of status, there was also an expectation (sometimes honoured, sometimes not) the member would fulfil some philanthropic or other worthy public services.  Legally, the basis for the practice dated from the historic rights of governors to appoint officers in their state’s militias and after federation, as the US evolved, the use was extended to non-military use, titles there quite sought after because with no honors systems granting them (knighthoods, peerages and such), those who attain some elected or appointed office (governor, admiral, judge, mayor, senator, ambassador etc), tend for life so to be styled; those who have several get to choose which they prefer.  South of the Mason-Dixon Line, there was an attachment to the tradition because of the cultural significance of the Antebellum Militias which, before the US Civil War (1861-1865) had enjoyed great social prestige, officers drawn often from the (obviously white) elites, plantation owners, lawyers, merchants and such; the granting of a colonelcy didn’t confer community authority: it acknowledged it.  Although much of what was “Southern culture” passed into history, the system remained and proved handy in the way knighthoods and peerages fulfil the function in the UK: (1) rewarding political supporters, (2) providing a quid pro quo to party donors, (3) cementing patronage networks and (4) “paying off” debts or “hushing up” those with troublesome knowledge.  By the early twentieth century, so numerous and associated with unsavoury politics had the colonelcies become that the title became a popular device for satirists.

Jaguar Nashville’s page listing its retired courtesy vehicles available for purchase, the concept much the same as the way “dealer demo cars” are sold.

While in the last decade-odd the engineering has mostly been good, Jaguar has yet to find a way to create a design language to match the distinctive “look” which for more than half-a-century underpinned its success after World War II (1939-1945).  The most recent attempt met with derision although that was a reaction more to the unsubtle DEI (diversity, equity & inclusion) “messaging” in the images used, the approach about as heavy-handed as the lines of the “concept EV” (electric vehicle) later shown.  Because what came to be understood as “a Jaguar” was so defined by what was done in the post-war years, there seems no obvious path for the designers so the company is left in a crowded field, competing on the basis of dynamic qualities and price-breakdown, able no longer to summon the intangible (but real) emotional appeal of old. 

In the US, the medical degree qualifying a graduate to seek to practice the profession is the MD (Doctor of Medicine) but elsewhere in the English speaking world the standard award is MB BS (Bachelor of Medicine & Bachelor or Surgery).  Despite that, most of the latter routinely are styled “doctor” despite not holding a doctorate (MD in the UK and Commonwealth (like a PhD (doctor of philosophy)) awarded as a higher degree after submission of a thesis rather than a course of instruction).  Historically, for medical practitioners, the use of the title “doctor” comes from many layers, dating from antiquity, medieval university practice, professional licensing traditions and later social conventions.  “Doctor” did originally denote “a doctorate” though not in the modern academic sense.  So, for those appropriately qualified in medicine (whether MD or MB BS) “doctor” really isn’t a “courtesy title” but a job title although, of late it’s been adopted also by dentists and vets and some insist that in such cases it should be thought of exactly that.  Doctor was from the Middle English doctor & doctour (an expert, authority on a subject), from the Anglo-Norman doctour, from the Latin doctor (teacher), from doceō (to teach).  It displaced the native Middle English lerare (teacher), from the Middle English leren (to teach, instruct) from the Old English lǣran & lēran (to teach, instruct, guide) which may be compared with the Old English lārēow (teacher, master) and lǣċe (doctor, physician).  In the US the MD evolved into a professional doctorate and the title “Dr” thus followed yet among US lawyers, although many qualify with the analogous JD (Doctor of Jurisprudence), not only is it though bad form for such graduates to use the title “doctor”, professional associations actively discourage use although the legal basis of any attempt at enforcement may be dubious.  As a general principle, the only lawyers in the US styled as “Dr” are those with a doctorate in law (which may be a PhD, DPhil etc).

The Barber Surgeon (1524), engraving by Lucas van Leyden (1494–1533), The Met, New York.

In the great Medieval universities (Bologna, Paris etc), the three higher faculties were Theology, Law and Medicine, graduates of each receiving the degree of Doctor which meant one was a licensed teacher of their discipline.  Thus, a “Doctor of Medicine” was someone qualified to teach medicine at a university, not merely practice it.  In pre-modern medicine (often a gruesome business) there was also distinct social and educational difference between physician and surgeons, especially in England where things became institutionalized.  The physicians were university-trained, held an MD and thus correctly were styled “Dr” whereas the origins of the surgeons lay in the old trade of barber-surgeons; trained by apprenticeship, they did not hold degrees and were styled “Mr”.  In the pre-anaesthetic age, surgical techniques tended to be primitive, often involving cutting or sawing off body parts so for the barbers, skilled in the use of razors and scissors, it was a natural evolution.  This division was in England institutionalized by the formation of the RCP (Royal College of Physicians (1518)) and RCS (Royal College of Surgeons (1843)).

The surgeons had anyway been schematic, guilds existing in London as early as the 1360s and a demarcation dispute between the “surgeons” and “barber surgeons” dragged on until 1540 when a “coming-together” between the “Worshipful Company of Barbers” and the “Guild of Surgeons” was engineered, creating the “Company of Barbers and Surgeons of London”.  However, while papering over the cracks (perhaps “bandaging the wound” might work better), the tensions remained and in 1745 the surgeons departed to form “Company of Surgeons” a royal charter (as Royal College of Surgeons in London) granted in 1800, extended in 1843 to become the “Royal College of Surgeons of England”.  Through all that, even after the early nineteenth century when a university education was made a condition of a licence to practice as a surgeon, the tradition endured and doctors, upon qualifying as members or fellows of the RCS revert from Dr to Mr.  In that context, “Mr” really is not a courtesy title but a professional equivalent and the because of the long history, the field is littered with linguistic quirks, “physician” both a generic term for all qualified to practice medicine and a specialist in internal medicine.  One perhaps once unexpected twist in the history of the history of the barber surgeon is that to this day there appear to be people who get medical advice (or at least a “second opinion”) from their hairdresser, presumably on the basis they’re a proven good source for fashion tips, relationship counselling and such.

Three galleries at the Lindsay Lohan Retrospective by Richard Phillips (b 1962), Gagosian Gallery, 555 West 24th Street, New York, 11 September-20 October 2012.

Described by the artist as an installation, the exhibition was said to be "an example of the way Phillips uses collaborative forms of image production to reorder the relationship of Pop Art to its subjects, the staging and format of these lush, large-scale works said to render them realist portraits of the place-holders of their own mediated existence."  The curator explained the retrospective was conducted as an example of the way collaborative forms of image production can reorder the relationship of Pop Art to its subjects, the staging and format used to render them realist portraits of "...the place-holders of their own mediated existence."  That seemed to explain things.

Vimeo's hosting of Lindsay Lohan, courtesy of Richard Phillips and Gagosian Gallery.

Historically, the term “courtesy of” implied “something provided by its owner to another party without payment or other consideration” and that’s presumably the way Vimeo is using the phrase although it’s likely the file was provided with certain limitations of use (such as “may not be edited”).  However, although for generations used in that way by the print media, on the internet “courtesy of” appears often to be used as a synonym of “attributed to” in cases where explicit permission for use has being neither sought or granted.  Owners of the rights (which may include copyright) can of course seek to have such content “taken down” regardless of any baseless assertion the use is by their “courtesy” but because of the volumes, such actions are by necessity limited and were, for example, some nihilistic psychopath to use on their blog an image of a 1961 Jaguar from the company’s website to illustrate some arcane aspect of a word’s etymology, JLR (Jaguar Land Rover, the corporate identity since 2013 when JLR was created by Tata Motors) likely would either neither notice nor care.

Lindsay Lohan (2011) by Richard Phillips, hosted by Vimeo by courtesy of Richard Phillips and Gagosian Gallery.

Screened in conjunction with the 54^th international exhibition of the Venice Biennale (June 2011), Lindsay Lohan was a short film the director said represented a “new kind of portraiture.”  Filmed in Malibu, California, the piece was included in the Commercial Break series, presented by Venice’s Garage Center for Contemporary Culture and although the promotional notes indicated it would include footage of the ankle monitor she helped make famous, the device doesn't appear in the final cut.

Directed by: Richard Phillips & Taylor Steele
Director of Photography: Todd Heater
Costume Designer: Ellen Mirojnick
Creative Director: Dominic Sidhu
Art Director: Kyra Griffin
Editor: Haines Hall
Color mastering: Pascal Dangin for Boxmotion
Music: Tamaryn & Rex John Shelverton

A variant on the idea is when an owner provides something “as a courtesy” and there are neither rules nor conventions governing this aspect of use.  First appearing in version 1.1 (1982) of PC-DOS (1980-1995), the obscure file EXE2BIN.exe was a command-line utility (it appeared also in other DOS (disk operating system) forks) that could be used to convert .EXE (executable) files into .COM or BIN (binary executables) files.  In the manuals, Microsoft noted “EXE2BIN is included with MS-DOS as a courtesy to software developers. It is not useful for general users.”  So it was a thoughtful gesture but MS-DOS grew at a faster rate than the capacity of the floppy diskettes which were then the only generally available medium for software distribution.  So, needing space for the essential stuff, when in 1987 MS-DOS 3.3 was released, EXE2BIN was no longer included, relegated to the Technical Reference Pack (available at extra cost).  That didn’t mean the decision was a discourtesy, just that space was needed and it was almost certain anyone likely to use EXE2BIN for its intended purpose anyway purchased the pack.  By the time MS-DOS v6.00 was released in 1991, EXE2BIN was thus no longer described as “a courtesy” and was included on one of the “Supplemental Disks” (US$5.00), which were also part of the “Resource Kit” (US$19.95).

Targa

Targa (pronounced ta-gah)

(1) A model name trade-marked by Porsche AG in 1966.

(2) In casual use, a generic description of cars with a removable roof panel between the windscreen and a truncated roof structure ahead of the rear window.

1966 (in the context of the Porsche): From the Targa Florio race in Sicily, first run in 1906 and last staged in its classic form in 1973.  In many European languages, targa (or derivatives) existed and most were related to the Proto-Germanic targǭ (edge), from the primitive Indo-European dorg- (edge, seam), from the Old Norse targa (small round shield) and the Old High German zarga (edge, rim).  The modern Italian targa (plate, shingle; name-plate; number plate or license plate; plaque; signboard; target (derived from the rounded oval or rectangle shield used in medieval times)) was ultimately from the Frankish targa (shield).  In the Old English targa (a light shield) was also from the Proto-Germanic targǭ and was cognate with the Old Norse targa and the Old High German zarga (source of the German Zarge); it was the source of the Modern English target.  The Proto-Germanic targǭ dates from the twelfth century and “target” in the sense of “round object to be aimed at in shooting” emerged in the mid eighteenth century and was used originally in archery.  Targa is a noun; the noun plural is targas.

1974 Leyland P76 Targa Florio in Omega Navy, Aspen Green & Nutmeg (without the side graphics).  Like all P76s, the Targa Florio effortlessly could fit a a 44 (imperial) gallon (53 US gallon; 205 litre) in its trunk (boot) and while it's unlikely many buyers took advantage of this, it was an indication of the impressive capacity.  The reputed ability to handle fours sets of golf clubs was probably more of a selling point but unfortunately, as the P76's rapid demise might suggest, there just weren't that many golfers. 

Although, especially when fitted with the 4.4 litre (269 cubic inch) V8, it was in many ways at least as good as the competition, the Australian designed and built Leyland P76 is remembered as the Antipodean Edsel: a total failure.  It was doomed by poor build quality, indifferent dealer support and the misfortune of being a big (in local terms) car introduced just before the first oil shock hit and the world economy sunk into the severe recession which marked the end of the long, post war boom.  It vanished in 1975, taking with it Leyland Australia's manufacturing capacity but did have one quixotic moment of glory, setting the fastest time on Special Stage 8 of the 1974 London–Sahara–Munich World Cup Rally held on the historic Targa Florio course in Palermo, Sicily (in the rally, the P76 finished a creditable 13^th).  The big V8 machine out-paced the field by several minutes and to mark the rare success, Leyland Australia built 488 "Targa Florio" versions.  Available in Omega Navy, Aspen Green or Nutmeg (a shade of brown which seemed to stalk the 1970s), the special build was mechanically identical to other V8 P76 Supers with automatic transmission but did include a sports steering wheel and aluminium road wheels, both intended for the abortive Force 7, a two-door version which was ungainly but did offer the functionality of a hatchback.  In a typical example of Leyland Australia's (and that of British Leyland generally) ineptitude, the Force 7 was being developed just as the other local manufacturers were in about to drop their larger two-doors, demand having dwindled after a brief vogue.  Only 10 of the 60-odd prototype Force 7V coupés survived the crusher but even had the range survived beyond 1974, success would have been improbable although the company should be commended for having intended to name the luxury version the Tour de Force (from the French and translated literally as "feat of strength"), the irony charming although En dépit de tout (In spite of everything) might better have capture the moment. 

Except for those which (usually) stick to numbers or alpha-numeric strings (Mercedes-Benz the classic example), coming up with a name for a car can be a tricky business, especially if someone objects.  In 1972, Ford of England was taken to court by Granada Television after choosing to call their new car a “Granada” though the judge gave the argument short shrift, pointing out (1) it was unlikely anyone would confuse a car with a TV channel and (2) neither the city nor the province of Granada in Spain’s Andalusia region had in 1956 complained when the name was adopted for the channel.  The suit was thrown out and the Ford Granada went on to such success the parent company in the US also used the name.

Spot the difference.  1966 Ford Mustang Fastback (left) and 1966 Ford T-5 Fastback (right).

In Cologne, Ford’s German outpost in 1964 had less success with names when trying to sell the Mustang in the FRG (Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany; the old West Germany, 1949-1990)) because Krupp AG held (until December 31 1978) exclusive rights to the name which it used on a range of heavy trucks, some of which were built as fire engines.  A truck couldn't be confused with a Mustang although there might have been some snobby types among the French who claimed to see some resemblance.  That would have been in the tradition of Ettore Bugatti's (1881–1947) observation in 1928 the powerful, sturdy, eponymous machines of W. O. Bentley (1888–1971) were the “world’s fastest trucks” and it was a comparison between the brutishness of those 6½ litre (actually a 6.6 (403 cubic inch) straight-six monsters with the elegant delicacy of his 2.3 litre (138 cubic inch) straight-eights which stirred his thoughts.  The gulf in 1967 between a Mustang and something like the (conceptually, vaguely similar) Renault Caravelle (1958-1968, which never grew beyond 1.1 litres (68 cubic inch)) was perhaps not so wide but would, in some French imaginations, been vivid.  Ford’s legal advice apparently was that under FRG trademark law, Kreidler AG held the rights to use the “Mustang” name for “two-wheeled vehicles” (ie motor-cycles) while Krupp AG enjoyed the same for “four-wheeled vehicles”, the act making no distinction between passenger cars and heavy trucks.  From his tomb, W.O. Bentley may have felt vindicated.

Understandably, Ford’s legal advice was to settle rather than sue so negotiations began with Ford making clear to Krupp and Kreidler it wasn't seeking exclusivity of use in the FRG and was happy for Mustang trucks and motor-cycles to continue in production.  The two German concerns responded with an offer to “share” their rights for a one-off payment of US$10,000 (in 1965, on the US West Coast, the list price for a Porsche 911 was around US$6,500) which Ford declined.  Given trucks are sold on the basis of factors like price, functionality and cost of operation rather than an abstraction like the name, why the Krupp board didn't make an effort to take advantage of what would have been good (and free) publicity seems not to be publicly available but negotiations were at that point sundered and until 1979 Mustangs in the FRG were sold as the “T-5” or “T5”.  Almost identical to the US version but for the badges and a few pieces of “localization”, the re-designated Mustang was in the 1960s one of the most popular US cars sold in Europe, aided by the then attractive US$-Deutsche Mark exchange rate and its availability in military PX (Post Exchange) stores, service personnel able to buy at a discount and subsequently have the car shipped back to the US at no cost; the system was retained (of the 4,000-odd Mustangs sold outside North America in 2012, nearly one in four was through military channels).

The badges: As they appeared on the early (1964-1966) Mustangs in most of the world (left), the T-5 badge used on early Mustangs sold in Germany (centre) and the (non-hyphenated) T5 used in Germany between 1967 and 1979 when the last was sold.

Ford also had difficulties with the FRG registration authorities.  When first made available in 1964, the T-5 was actually a standard (US-specification) Mustang with the required parts in a “T-5 Kit”, supplied in boxes in the trunk (boot) and ready to be installed by the dealer.  That approach was in the US used for a number of purposes (notably high performance parts such as multiple carburetors and the requisite manifold) but the German authorities weren’t amused and insisted all this had to be done on a production-line, explaining why all but the earliest T-5s were produced in batches.  Visually, the changes which distinguished a T-5 from a Mustang were slight and included (1) wheel covers with a plain black centre. (2) the word “Mustang” being removed from horn ring & gas (petrol) cap, metric graduations on certain instruments (such as odometers & speedometers which measured kilometres rather than miles) and (3) a “T-5” badge replacing the “Mustang” script on the flanks.  Other than these cosmetic items, mechanical changes were limited to suspension settings (including adding the shock-tower cross-brace fitted to the Shelby GT350s) better to handle continental roads and the fitting of European-specification lighting.  Curiously, although Ford obviously didn’t make much effort when coming up with the “T-5” name (it was the project code during the Mustang's development in Detroit), it did create a “T-5” badge (part number C5ZZ-6325622A) to replace the “Mustang” script on the front fenders and it was thought necessary later to do a re-design, the new one (part number CZZ-16098C) dropping the hyphen and placing the centred characters vertically.  Apparently content, the new badge was used until 1978 when Krupp’s copyright expired and the Mustang’s badges became global.  As was common, there were also running changes, a dash bezel above the glove box (with the T5 designation) introduced during 1967 and continued the next year while the 1971 range received a new dash emblem which sat in the centre, above the radio and heater controls.  However, anyone driving or sitting in a T5, unless expert in such things or unusually observant, probably wouldn’t have noticed the car was in any way different from a Mustang of that vintage.  Although the records are in places sketchy (and occasionally contradictory), the consensus is between 1964-1973, some 3,500 T5s or T-5s were produced.

Scenes from Rote Sonne (1970, promotional poster, centre): A 1966 Ford T5 (left) and some of the cast (right) with a (circa 1966) Volkswagen Type 1 (Beetle).  Note the jackboots.

Directed by Rudolf Thome (b 1939), the plotline of Rote Sonne revolves around four young Fräuleins (Peggy, Sylvie, Christine & Isolde) who have entered into a mortiferous pact to use their charms to lure men into their grasp as a prelude to murdering them.  Maybe the foursome had read Valerie Solanas's (1936-1988), S.C.U.M. Manifesto (1967) which, even today, is still about as terminal as feminism gets.  Although criticized as an example of the “pornography of violence” the film genuinely did fit into the contemporary feminist narratives of the FRG (Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany; the old West Germany) 1949-1990), a place in which ripples from the street protests which swept Germany in 1968 were still being felt and it was in 1970 the terrorist collective Rote Armee Fraktion (Red Army Faction (RAF)) was formed; In the English-speaking world it’s better (if misleadingly) known as the Baader–Meinhof Gang.

Front page from the Krupp Mustang brochure (1958, left) announcing ...jetzt auch als Frontlenker (“...now also available as a forward control truck” (known in the US as the CoE (cab-over engine) configuration) and two pages from the 1975 Ford T5 brochure (Ghia (upper right) and Mach 1 (lower right) versions).  The photography and text (in translation) in Ford’s T5 advertising followed the originals except that whereas the US agencies usually included people, for German eyes, there were only the cars.  The CoE configuration became popular because it allowed an increased load area while still complying with the maximum length limits set in many jurisdictions. 

Front cover of 1974 Ford T-5 brochure.  Unlike with the original Mustang which “didn't have a bad angle”, photographers assigned the Mustang II needed carefully to choose the aspect because if snapped unsympathetically, it could look quite gawky.

The timing of the release of the Mustang II on 21 September, 1973 (for the 1974 season) proved exquisite because on 17 October, 1973 began the geopolitical ructions which three days later would trigger the announcement by OAPEC (Organization of Arab Petroleum Exporting Countries) of a “total embargo” of sales of oil to the US and certain other countries.  What following from that came to be known first as the “1973 oil crisis” before being re-named “first oil shock” after not dissimilar troubles in 1979; one way or another, the world has since been adjusting to the change.  The Mustang II, lighter, smaller and notably more energy-efficient than its predecessor (which as late as early 1972 had a 429 cubic inch (7.0 litre) V8 on the option list) was the right car for the time and proved a great success, despite the traditionalists being appalled at the engine choices being initially restricted to what were (compared with what had been and what would later return) rather anaemic four & six-cylinder units.

Ford T-5 brochure, the basic coupé (left) and the 3-Türer (three door) hatchback (right).  By 1974, the US manufacturers were using the word “hardtop” more loosely than the when in the 1950s & 1960s it had been standardized to mean: “no B-pillar”.  Here, it seems to be used as a synonym of “two-door coupé” although by 1974, in the US, the term “pillared hardtop” had been coined to describe those vehicles with a B-pillar but no frames for the side windows.  The Mustang II used frameless side-windows so the use may have been a nod to that and it certainly wasn't to differentiate it from a (soft-top) convertible, that body style never offered on the model.      

On paper, the more modest dimensions and fuel consumption should have made the Mustang II more suited to the German market and Ford may have had high hopes (at least as high as homes got by the mid-1970s) but the appeal of the early Mustangs was the relatively compact (in US terms) size and the small-displacement (again, in US terms) V8s (260 & 289 cubic inch; 4.2 & 4.7 litre) making the car something of a “sweet spot” in what was a small but lucrative German niche.  In the 1960s, there was no European-made car quite like it, thus the small but devoted following enjoyed by the early T5s but the Mustang II used a template which was quasi-European and the most obvious comparison was with Ford’s own Capri II, built in Cologne and on any objective measure the Capri II was a better car than a Mustang II (T5), most Germans (an other Europeans) concluding while there were reasons to buy a Mustang, there were few to buy a Mustang II.  So good was the German Capri it was for years exported to the US where, sold by Mercury dealers, often it was the best-selling import, was withdrawn from sale after 1977 only because the strength of the Deutsch Mark (the FRG’s currency) against the US dollar rendered the project unviable.  Production numbers for the T-5s based on the Mustang II are disputed and it’s believed the total was “low three figures”, the appeal of the 1973-1978 T-5s not greatly enhanced by the addition in 1975 of an optional 4.9 litre (302 cubic inch) V8 which increased fuel consumption rather more than it improved performance.  As a footnote, Ford called the 4.9 a “5.0” to avoid confusion with their 300 cubic inch straight-six truck engine (which, like the 302, was a true 4.9).  Because the 300 wasn’t used in Australia, there the 302s (one of which was a unique “Cleveland 302”) were (after 1973 when the country switched to metric measures) badged 4.9 to provide greater market differentiation from the companion 5.8 (351) V8.

1964 Daimler (C-Specification) SP250 (née Dart) in London Metropolitan Police configuration.

The wire wheels are a later edition, all police SP250s supplied originally with steel wheels & "dog dish" hubcaps); many (non-police) SP250s have also subsequently been fitted with the wheels.  Scotland Yard purchased some 30 SP250s (all automatics) attracted by their 120+ mph (195 km/h) performance, allowing them to out-pace all but the fastest two and four-wheeled vehicles then on the road.  Police forces in Australia and New Zealand also adopted SP250s as highway patrol vehicles.

The Daimler SP250 was first shown to the public at the 1959 New York Motor Show and there the problems began.  Aware the sports car was quite a departure from the luxurious but rather staid line-up Daimler had for years offered, the company had chosen the attractively alliterative “Dart” as its name, hoping it would convey the sense of something agile and fast.  Unfortunately, Chrysler’s lawyers were faster still, objecting that they had already registered Dart as the name for a full-sized Dodge so Daimler needed a new name and quickly; the big Dodge would never be confused with the little Daimler but the lawyers insisted.  Imagination apparently exhausted, Daimler’s management also reverted to the engineering project name and thus the car became the SP250 which was innocuous enough even for Chrysler's attorneys.  The Dodge Dart didn't for long stay big, the name in 1964 re-used for a compact line although it was the generation made between 1967-1977 which was most successful and almost immediately Chrysler regretted the decision to cease production, the replacement range (the Dodge Aspen & Plymouth Volaré (1976-1980)) one of the industry's disasters.  The name was revived in 2012 for a new Dodge Dart, a small, front wheel drive (FWD) car which was inoffensive but dreary and lasted only until 2016.  The SP250 was less successful still, not even 3000 made between 1959-1964, something attributable to (1) the unfortunate styling, (2) the antiquated chassis, (3) the lack of development which meant there were basic flaws in the body engineering of the early versions and (4) the lack of interest by Jaguar which in 1960 had purchased Daimler, its interest in the manufacturing capacity acquired rather than the product range.  It was a shame because the SP250's exquisite 2.5 litre (155 cubic inch) V8 deserved better.  

Lindsay Lohan with Porsche 911 Targa 4 (997), West Hollywood, 2008.  The Targa was reportedly leased by her former special friend, DJ Samantha Ronson (b 1977).

Sometimes though, numbers could upset someone.  Even in the highly regulated EEC (European Economic Community, the origin of the European Union (EU)) of the 1960s, a company in most cases probably couldn’t claim exclusive rights to a three number sequence but Peugeot claimed exactly that when Porsche first showed their new 901 in 1963.  Asserting they possessed the sole right to sell in France car with a name constructed with three numbers if the middle digit was a zero, the French requested the Germans rename the thing.  It was the era of Franco-German cooperation and Porsche did just that, announcing the new name would be 911, a machine which went on to great things and sixty years on, remains on sale although, the lineage is obvious, only the odd nut & bolt is interchangeable between the two.  So all was well that ends well even if the French case still seems dubious because Mercedes-Benz had for years been selling in France cars labelled 200 or 300 (and would soon offer the 600). Anyway, this time, it was the project name (901) which was discarded (although it remained as the prefix on part-numbers) and surviving examples of the first 82 cars produced before the name was changed are now highly prized by collectors.

Sometimes however, the industry uses weird names for no obvious reason and some of the cars produced for the JDM (Japanese domestic market) are, to Western ears, truly bizarre though perhaps for a Japanese audience they’re compellingly cool.  Whatever might be the rationale, the Japanese manufacturers have give the world some memorable monikers including (1) from Honda the Vamios Hobio Pro & the That's, (2) from Mazda the Titan Dump, the Scrum Truck & the Bongo Brawny, (3) from Mitsubishi the Super Great, the eK-Classy, the Town Box, the Mirage Dingo Teddy Bear & the Homy Super Long, (4) from Suzuki the Solio Bandit & the Mighty Boy, (5) from Toyota the Royal Lounge Alphard, (6) from Subaru the Touring Bruce, (7) from Nissan the Big Thumb, the Elgrand Highway Star & the Cedric and (8) from Cony, the Guppy.

1964 Porsche 901 (left), 1968 Porsche 911L Targa (soft window) (centre) and 1969 Porsche 911S Targa (right)

Compared with that lot, Porsche deciding to call a car a Targa seems quite restrained.  Porsche borrowed the name from Targa Florio, the famous race in the hills of Sicily first run in 1906 and where Porsche in the 1950s had enjoyed some success.  Long, challenging and treacherous, it originally circumnavigated the island but the distance was gradually reduced until it was last run in its classic form in 1973 although in even more truncated form it lingered until 1977.  The construct of the name of the Targa Florio, the race in Italy from which Porsche borrowed the name, was Targa (in the sense of “plate” or “shield” + Florio, a tribute to Vincenzo Florio (1883-1959), a rich Sicilian businessman, automobile enthusiast and scion of a prominent family of industrialists and sportsmen; it was Vincenzo Florio who in 1906 founded the race.  Porsche won the race seven times between between 1963-1970 and took victory in 1973 in a 911 Carrera RSR, the car which in its street-legal (the Carrera RS) form remains among the most coveted of all the 911s and many replicas have been created.  Porsche didn't make any 1973 Carrera RS Targas; all were coupés.

1976 Porsche 914 2.0 with factory-fitted heckblende in Nepal Orange over black leatherette with orange & black plaid inserts.  All the mid-engined 914 built for public sale had a targa top although for use in competition the factory did a few with a fixed roof to gain additional rigidity.  The 914 was the first of a number of attempts by Porsche’s engineers to convince customers there were better configurations than the rear-engine layout used on the 911 & 912.  The customers continued to demand 911s and, the customer always being right, rear-engined 911s remain available to this day.  Porsche now offers front & mid-engined models so presumably honor is thought satisfied on both sides.   

1938 Packard 1605 Super Eight Sedanca de Ville by Barker.

The idea of a vehicle with a removable roof section over the driver is more ancient even than the Porsche 911.  Now, a “town car” is imagined as something small and increasingly powered in some Greta Thunberg (b 2003) approved way but in the US, what was sold as a “Town Car” used to be very big, very thirsty (for fossil fuels) and a prodigious emitter of greenhouse gasses.  The idea had begun in Europe as the coupé de ville, deconstructed as the French coupé (an elliptical form of carosse coupé (cut carriage)) and the past participle of couper (to cut) + de ville (French for “for town”).  So, it was, like the horse-drawn coupé carriage, a smaller conveyance for short-distance travel within cities, often just for two passengers who sat sometimes in an enclosed compartment and sometimes under a canopy while the driver was always exposed to the elements.  In the UK, the style was often advertised as the clarence carriage.  The coach-builders of the inter-war years created naming practices which were not consistent across the industry but did tend to be standardized within individual catalogues.  In the US, reflecting the horse-drawn tradition, the coupé de ville was Anglicized as coupe de ville and appeared as both “town brougham” and “town car”, distinguished by the enclosed passenger compartment (trimmed often in cloth) and the exposed driver who sat on more weather resistant leather upholstery.

1974 Lincoln Continental Town Car.  The big Lincolns of the 1970s are about as remote as can be imagined from the original idea of something small and agile for use in congested cities but Ford also called this body style the "pillared hardtop" so by then, linguistic traditions clearly meant little.

Dating from the 1920s, a variant term was “Sedanca de ville”, briefly used to describe a particular configuration for the roof but so attractive was the word it spread and soon there appeared were Sedancas and Sedanca coupés.  Like many designations in the industry, it soon ceased to carry an exact meaning beyond the front seats being open to the skies although by the 1920s there was usually a detachable or folding (even some sliding metal versions were built) roof and windscreens had become a universal fitting.  For a while, there probably was (unusually in an industry which often paid scant attention to the details of etymology) an understanding a Sedanca de ville was a larger vehicle than a Sedanca coupé but the former term became the more generally applied, always on the basis of the ability of the driver’s compartment to be open although it’s clear many of the vehicles were marketed towards owner-drivers rather than those with chauffeurs, that cohort having moved towards fully enclosed limousines.  It’s from the Sedanca tradition the US industry later picked up the idea of the “town car” although the association was vague and had nothing to do with an open driver’s cockpit; it was understood just as a model designation which somehow implied “prestige”.

1968 Triumph TR5 with “Surrey Top”.

Porsche had since the late 1940s been building roadsters and cabriolets but while the 911 (then known internally as Project 901) was under development, it was clear US regulators, in reaction to a sharply rising death toll on the nation’s highways, were developing some quite rigorous safety standards and a number of proposals had been circulated which threatened to outlaw the traditional convertible.  Thus the approach adopted which, drawing from the company’s experience in building race cars, essentially added a stylized roll-over bar which could accommodate a detachable roof-section over the passengers and a folding rear cover which included a Perspex screen (the solid rear glass would come later).  Actually, the concept wasn’t entirely novel, Triumph introducing something similar on their TR4 roadsters (1961-1967) although their design consisted of (1) a half-hard top with an integral roll-bar & fixed glass rear window and (2) two detachable (metal & vinyl) panels which sat above the passengers.  Customers universally (and still to this day) referred to this arrangement as the “Surrey Top” although Triumph insisted only the vinyl insert and its supporting frame was the “Surrey” while the rest of the parts collectively were the “Hard Top kit”.  The targaesque top was available on the TR5 (1967-1969), a de-tuned version of which was sold in North America as the TR250 with twin carburetors replacing the Lucas mechanical fuel-injection used in most other markets, the more exotic system then unable to comply with the new emission standards.

1953 Ford X-100 with roof panel retracted (left), the Quincunxed five carburetor apparatus atop the 317 cubic inch (5.2 litre) Lincoln Y-Block V8 (centre) and the built-in hydraulic jacking system in use (right).

However, long before Porsche told us there were Targa and a decade before even Triumph’s Surrey, Ford had displayed a two-seat “targa”.  In the years to come, things like the 1953 Ford X-100 would be called “concept cars” but that term didn’t then exist so Ford used the more familiar “dream car” and that does seem a more romantic way of putting it.  Reflecting the optimistic spirit of the early post-war years, the X-100 included a number of innovations including the use of radial-ply tyres, a built-in hydraulic jacking system, a rain-sensor which automatically would trigger an electric motor to close the sliding plexiglass roof panel, a built-in dictaphone, a telephone in the centre console and the convenience of heated seats and an electric shaver mounted in the glove compartment.  Some of the features became mainstream products, some not and while the “variable volume horn” wasn’t picked up by the industry, one did appear on the Mercedes-Benz 600 (W100; 1963-1981) although that was a rare supportive gesture.  It was also an age of imaginative labels and Ford called their quincunx induction system the “Multi-Plex”; while the engineering proved a cul-de-sac, the name did later get picked up by multi-screen suburban cinema complexes.  For the X-100, Ford used what was then a popular technique in the lunatic fringe of the burgeoning hot rod: an induction system using five carburettors in a Quincunx pattern.  Inherent difficulties and advances in engineering meant the fad didn’t last but the apparatus remins pleasing to those with a fondness of unusual aluminium castings and intricate mechanical linkages.  X-100 still exists and is displayed at the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan.

1969 Mercury Marauder X-100.  In 1969, the blacked-out trunk (boot) lid and surrounds really was done by the factory.  During the administration of Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974), things were not drab and predictable.

In a number of quirky coincidences, the name X-100 seems to once have been an industry favourite because as well as the 1953 Ford “dream car”, it was the US Secret Service’s designation for the 1961 Lincoln Continental parade convertible in which John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963) was assassinated in Dallas, Texas.  One might have thought that macabre association might have been enough for the “X-100” tag to not again be used but, presumably because the Secret Service’s internal codes weren’t then general public knowledge, in 1969 Ford’s Mercury division released an X-100 as an up-market version of its second generation (1969-1970) Marauder.  Notionally, the X-100 was a “high performance” version but its 365 (gross) horsepower 429 cubic inch (7.0 litre) V8 was an option in lesser priced Marauders which meant the X-100, weighed down by the additional luxury fittings, was just a little slower than the cheaper models with the 429.  The market for “full-sized” high performance cars was anyway by 1969 in the final stages of terminal decline and although an encouraging 5635 were sold in 1969, sales the next year fell to 2646 and the X-100 was retired at the end of the 1970 and not replaced.  Most bizarre though was project X-100, a US$75 million (then a lot of what was at the time borrowed money) contract in 1943 awarded to Chrysler to design, machine and nickel-plate the inner surfaces of the cylindrical diffusers required to separate uranium isotopes.  Part of the Manhattan Project which built the world’s first atomic bombs, Chrysler built over 3,500 diffusers used at the plant in Oak Ridge, Tennessee and many were still in service as late as the 1980s.  Not until after the first A-bomb was used against Hiroshima in August 1945 did most of the X-100 project’s workers become aware of the use being made of the precision equipment they were producing.

Built by Ferrari: 1973 Dino 246 GTS with "chairs & flares" options.  The "GTS" stood for "Gran Tourismo Spider" but it was a true targa in the sense codified by Porsche.

The rhyming colloquialism “chairs and flares” (C&F to the Ferrari cognoscenti and these days the early Dinos are an accepted part of the family) is a reference to a pair of (separately available) options available on later production Dino 246s.  The options were (1) seats with inserts (sometimes in a contasting color) in the style used on the 365 GTB/4 (Daytona) & (2) wider Campagnolo Elektron wheels (which the factory only ever referred to by size) which necessitated flared wheel-arches.  In the early 1970s the factory wasn’t too punctilious in the keeping of records so it’s not known how many cars were originally built equipped with the wider (7½ x 14” vs 6½ x 14”) wheels but some privately maintained registers exist and on the basis of these it’s believed production was probably between 200-250 cars from a total run of 3569 (2,295 GT coupés & 1,274 GTS spiders (targa)).  They appear to have been most commonly ordered on UK & US market cars (although the numbers for Europe are described as “dubious” and thought an under-estimate; there are also an unknown number in other countries), the breakdown of verified production being:

246 GT: UK=22, Europe=5, US=5.
246 GTS: UK=21, Europe=2, US=91.

The “chairs and flares” cars are those which have both the Elektron option and the Daytona-style seats but because they were available separately, some were built with only one of the two, hence the existence of other slang terms in the Dino world including “Daytona package”, “Sebring spiders” and, in the UK, the brutish “big arches”.  In 1974, the Dino's option list (in US$) comprised:

Power windows: $270.00
Metallic paint: $270.00
Leather upholstery: $450.00
Daytona type central seat panels: $115.00
Air-conditioning: $770.00
14 x 7½ wheels & fender flares: $680.00
AM/FM/SW radio: $315.00
Electric antenna & speakers: $100.00

At a combined US$795.00, the C&F combo has proved a good investment, now adding significantly to the price of the anyway highly collectable Dino.  Although it's hard to estimate the added value because so many other factors influence calculation, all else being equal, the premium would seem to to be well over US$100,000.  Because it involves only wheels, upholstery and metal, the modifications are technically not difficult to emulate although the price of a modified vehicle will not match that of an original although unlike some of the more radical modifications to Ferraris (such as conversions to roadsters), creating a C&F out of a standard 246 seems not to lower its value.  These things are always relative; in 1974 the C&F option added 5.2% to the Dino GTS's list price and was just under a third the cost of a new small (in US terms a "sub-compact") car such as the Chevrolet Vega (1970-1977).

An enduring design: 2023 Porsche 911 Targa 4 (992).

Porsche didn’t complicate things, in 1966 offering the Targa as an alternative to the familiar coupé, then in series production since 1964.  Briefly, the company flirted with calling the car the 911 Flori but ultimately Targa was preferred and the appropriate trademarks were applied for in 1965, the factory apparently discovering targa in Italian means “number plate” or “license plate” only that year when the translators were working on international editions of the sales brochures.  The now familiar fixed, heated rear screen in safety glass was first offered in 1967 as an alternative to the one in fold-down plastic one and such was the demand it soon became the standard fitting.  The Targa carried over into the 911’s second and third generation being, re-designed for 1993 in a way that dispensed with the roll bar and it wouldn’t be until 2011 the familiar shape returned.

1970 Iso Grifo Targa (Series I, 350 cubic inch (5.7 litre) Chevrolet V8, left) and 1971 Iso Grifo Can-Am Targa (Series II, 454 cubic inch (7.4 litre) Chevrolet V8, right).  The raised centre section on the hood (bonnet) of the big-block Grifos was known informally as the "penthouse"; it was required because the induction system sat higher than on the small-block cars.  Not all approved of the penthouse because they found it discordant with the otherwise flowing lines but its brutish functionalism seems a fitting tribute brute force beneath.

Among the small volume manufactures which in the post-war years found a lucrative niche in combining sensuous European coachwork with the cheap, powerful and robust American V8s, there was a focus on two-door coupés because (1) this was the example set by Ferrari and (2) there most demand in the segment clearly existed.  The ecosystem was sent extinct by the first oil shock of the early 1970s but in the era, some did offer convertibles and where not, there were specialists prepared to help.  There was though, the odd targa.  The achingly lovely Iso Grifo spyder (roadster) shown at the Geneva Motor Show in 1964 never reached production but in 1966, less than two years into the Grifo’s life (during which almost 100 had been made), the factory put a targa version on their stand at the Turin Motor Show.  It was only ever available to special order on a POA (price on application) basis and between then and the shuttering of the factory in 1974, only 17 were built, four of which were the Series II Can-Ams with the big-block Chevrolet V8.