Lettrism (pronounced let-riz-uhm)
A French avant-garde art and literary movement
established in 1946 and inspired, inter alia, by Dada and surrealism. The coordinate term is situationism.
1946: From French lettrisme,
a variant of lettre (letter). Letter dates from the late twelfth century
and was from the From Middle English letter
& lettre, from the Old French
letre, from the Latin littera (letter of the alphabet (in
plural); epistle; literary work), from the Etruscan, from the Ancient Greek
διφθέρᾱ (diphthérā)
(tablet) (and related to diphtheria). The form displaced the Old English bōcstæf (literally “book staff” in the
sense of “the alphabet’s symbols) and ǣrendġewrit
(literally “message writing” in the sense of “a written communication longer
than a “note” (ie, something like the modern understanding of “a letter”)). The –ism suffix was from the Ancient Greek
ισμός (ismós) & -isma noun suffixes, often directly,
sometimes through the Latin –ismus
& isma (from where English picked
up ize) and sometimes through the French –isme
or the German –ismus, all
ultimately from the Ancient Greek (where it tended more specifically to express
a finished act or thing done). It
appeared in loanwords from Greek, where it was used to form abstract nouns of
action, state, condition or doctrine from verbs and on this model, was used as
a productive suffix in the formation of nouns denoting action or practice,
state or condition, principles, doctrines, a usage or characteristic, devotion
or adherence (criticism; barbarism; Darwinism; despotism; plagiarism; realism;
witticism etc). Letterism is listed by some sources as an alternative
spelling but in literary theory it used in a different sense. Lettrism and lettrist are nouns; the noun
plural is letterists.
A Lettrist
was (1) one who practiced Lettrism or (2) a supporter or advocate of Lettrism. Confusingly, in the English-speaking world, the spelling Letterist has been
used in this context, presumably because it’s a homophone (if pronounced in the
“correct (U)” way) and the word is “available” because although one who keeps
as diary is a “diarist”, even the most prolific of inveterate letter writers
are not called “letterists”. The
preferred term for a letter-writer is correspondent, especially for those who
writes letters regularly or in an official capacity. The Letterist International (LI) was a
Paris-based collective of radical artists and cultural theorists which existed 1952-1957
before forming the Situationist International (SI), a trans-European,
unstructured collective of artists and political thinkers which eventually
became more a concept than a movement. Influenced
by the criticism that philosophy had tended increasingly to fail at the moment
of its actualization, the SI, although it assumed the inevitability of social
revolution, always maintained many (cross-cutting) strands of expectations of
the form(s) this might take. Indeed,
just as a world-revolution did not follow the Russian revolutions of 1917, the
events of May, 1968 failed to realize the predicted implications; the SI can be
said then to have died. The SI’s
discursive output between 1968 and 1972 may be treated either as a lifeless
aftermath to an anti-climax or a bunch of bitter intellectuals serving as mourners
at their own protracted funeral. In
literary theory, while “Lettrism” has a defined historical meaning, the use of
“letterism” is vague and not a recognized term although it has informally been
used (often with some degree of irony) of practices emphasizing the use of
letters or alphabetic symbols in art or literature and given the prevalence of
text of a symbolic analogue in art since the early twentieth century, it seem
surprising “letterism” isn’t more used in criticism. That is of course an Anglo-centric view of
things because the French Lettrists themselves are said to prefer the spelling
“Letterism”.
The French literary movement Lettrism was founded in Paris in 1946 and the two most influential figures in the early years were the Romanian-born French poet, film maker and political theorist Isidore Isou (1925–2007) and his long-term henchman, the French poet, & writer Maurice Lemaître (1926-2018). Western Europe was awash with avant-garde movements in the early post-war years but what distinguished Lettrism was its focus on breaking down (deconstruction was not yet a term used in this sense) traditional language and meaning by emphasizing the materiality of letters and sounds rather than conventionally-assembled words. Scholars of linguistics and the typographic community had of course long made a study of letters, their form, variation and origin, but in Lettrism it was less about the letters as objects than the act of dismantling the structures of language letters created, the goal being the identification (debatably the creation) of new forms of meaning through pure sound, visual abstraction and the aesthetic form of letters. Although influenced most by Dada and surrealism, the effect the techniques of political propaganda used during the 1930s & 1940s was noted by the Lettrists and their core tenent was an understanding of the letter itself as the fundamental building block of art and literature. Often they would break down language into letters or phonetic sounds, assessing and deploying them for their aesthetic or auditory qualities rather than their conventional meaning(s). In that sense the Lettrists can be seen as something as precursor of post-modernism’s later “everything is text” orthodoxy although that too has an interesting origin. The French philosopher Jacques Derrida (1930-2004) made famous the phrase “Il n'y a pas de hors-texte” which often is translated as something like “there is no meaning beyond the text” but “hors-texte” (outside the text) was printers’ jargon for those parts of a book without regular page numbers (blank pages, copyright page, table of contents et al) and Derrida’s point actually was the hors-texte must be regardes as a part of the text. There was much intellectual opportunism in post modernism and for their own purposes it suited may to assert what Derrida said was “There is nothing outside the text” and what he meant was “everything is part of a (fictional) text and nothing is real” whereas his point was it’s not possible to create a rule rigidly which delineates what is “the text” and what is “an appendage to the text”. Troublingly for some post modernists, Derrida did proceed on a case-by-case basis although he seems not to have explained how the meaning of the text in an edition of a book with an appended "This page is intentionally left blank" page might differ from one with no such page although it may be some earnest student of post-modernism has written an essay convincingly exactly that.
The Lettrism project was very much a rejection of traditional
language structures and the meanings they denoted; it was a didactic
endeavor, the Lettrists claiming not only had they transcended conventional
grammar & syntax but they could obviate even a need for meaning in
words, their work a deliberate challenge to their audiences to rethink how
language functions. As might be
imagined, their output was “experimental” and in addition to some takes on the
ancient form of “pattern poetry” included what they styled “concrete poetry”
& “phonetic poetry”, visual art and performance pieces which relied on abstraction,
the most enduring of which was the “hypergraphic”,
an object sometimes describe as “picture writing” which combined letters,
symbols, and images, blending visual and textual elements into a single art
form, often as collages or as graphic-like presentations on canvas or paper. This wasn’t a wholly new concept but the
lettrists vested it with new layers of meaning which, at least briefly,
intrigued many although it was dismissed also as “visual gimmickry” or that
worst of insults in the avant-garde: “derivative”. Despite being one of the many footnotes in
the history of modern art, Lettrism never went away and in a range of artistic
fields, even today there are those who style themselves “lettrists” and the
visual clues of the movement’s influence are all around us.
Chrysler’s letterism: The Chrysler 300 “letter series”
1955-1965.
The “letter series” Chrysler 300s were produced in limited numbers in the US between 1955-1965; technically, they were the high-performance version of the luxury Chrysler New Yorker and the first in 1955 was labeled C-300, an allusion to the 300 horsepower (HP) (220 kW) 331 cubic inch (5.4 litre) Hemi V8, then the most powerful engine offered in a production car. The C-300 was well received and when an updated version was released in 1956, it was dubbed 300B, the annual releases appending the next letter in the alphabet as a suffix although in 1963 “I” was skipped when the 300H was replaced by the 300J, the rationale being it might be confused with a “1” (ie the numeral “one”), the same reasoning explaining why there are so few “I cup” bras, some manufacturers filling the gap in the market between “H cup” & “J cup” with a “HH cup” but there’s no evidence the corporation’s concerns ever prompted them to ponder a “300HH”. Retrospectively thus, the 1955 C-300 is often described as the 300A although this was never an official factory designation. While in the narrow technical sense not a part of the “muscle car” lineage (defined by the notion of putting a “big” car’s “big” engine into a smaller, lighter model), the letter series cars were an important part of the “power race” of the 1950s and an evolutionary step in what would emerge in 1964 as the muscle car branch and the most plausible LCA (last common ancestor) of both was the Buick Century (1936-1942). The letter series was retired after 1965 because the market preference for high-performance car had shifted to the smaller, lighter, pony cars & intermediates (neither of which existed in the early years of the 300) though the “non letter series” 300s (introduced in 1962) continued until 1971 with a toned-down emphasis on speed and a shift to style.
1955 Chrysler C-300 (300A).
The 1955 C-300 typified Detroit’s “mix & match” approach to the parts bin in that it conjured something “new” at relatively low cost, combining the corporation’s most powerful Hemi V8 with the New Yorker Series (C-68) platform, the visual differentiation achieved by using the front bodywork (the “front clip” in industry jargon) from the top-of-the-range Imperial. The justification for the existence of the thing was to fulfill the homologation requirements of NASCAR (National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing) that a certain number of various components be sold to the public before a car could be defined as a “production” car (ie a “stock” car, a term which shamelessly would be prostituted in the years to come) and used in sanctioned competition. Accordingly, the C-300 was configured with the 331 cubic inch Hemi V8 fitted, with dual four barrel carburetors, solid valve lifters and a high-lift camshaft profiled for greater top-end power. Better to handle the increased power, stiffer front and rear suspension was used and it was very much in the tradition of the big, powerful grand-touring cars of the 1930s such as the Duesenberg SJ, something that with little modification could be competitive on the track. Very successful in NASCAR racing, the C-300 also set a number of speed records in timed trials but it was very much a niche product; despite the price not being excessive for what one got, only 1,725 were made but for an expensive car which even Chrysler's engineers admitted "had a ride like a truck" due to the stiff suspension, it was encouragement enough to schedule a 300B for the 1956 season.
1956 Chrysler 300B (left) and Highway Hi-Fi phonograph player (right).
The 300B used a updated version of the C-300s body so visually the two were similar although, ominously, the tailfins did reach a little higher. The big news however lay under the hood (bonnet) with the Hemi V8 enlarged to 354 cubic inches (5.8 litres) and available either with 340 (HP) (254 kW) or in a high- compression version generating 355 (365), the first time a US-built automobile was advertised as producing greater than one HP per cubic inch of displacement. It was a sign of the times; other manufacturers took note. The added power meant a top speed of around 140 mph (225 km/h) could be attained, something now to ponder given the retardative qualities of the braking system but also of note was the season's much talked-about option: the "Highway Hi-Fi" phonograph player which allowed vinyl LP records to be played when the car was on the move; the sound quality was remarkably good but on less than smooth surfaces, experiences were mixed. Success on the track continued, the 300B wining the Daytona Flying Mile with a new record of 139.373 MPH, and it again dominated NASCAR, repeating the C-300’s Grand National Championship. Despite that illustrious record, only 1,102 were sold.
1955 Chrysler C-300 (top left), 1970 Mercedes-Benz 280 SE 3.5 Coupé (top right), Rover 3.5 Coupé (bottom left) and Rover 3.5 Saloon (bottom right).
On sale only in 1955-1956, the restrained lines of Chrysler’s elegant “Forward Look” range didn’t last long in the US as extravagance overtook Detroit but the influence endured longer in Europe, both the Mercedes-Benz W111 (1961-1971) & W112 Coupé (1962-1967) and the Rover P5 (1958-1967) & P5B (1967-1973) interpreting the shape. The Rover was a tale of two rooflines: the “Establishment” Saloon and the rakish Coupé.
1957 Chrysler 300C.
The 1955-1956 Chryslers had a balance and elegance of
line which could have remained a template for the industry but there were other
possibilities and these Detroit choose to pursue, creating a memorable era of
extravagance but one which proved a stylistic cul-de-sac. The 1957 300C undeniably was dramatic and
featured many of the motifs so associated with the US automobile of the late
1950s including the now (mostly) lawful quad-headlights, the panoramic “Vista-Dome”
windshield, lashings of chrome and, of course, those tailfins. The Hemi V8 was again enlarged, now in a
“tall deck” version out to 392 cubic inches (6.4 litres) rated at 375
HP (280 kW) and for the first time a convertible version was available.
By now the power race was being run in
earnest with General Motors (GM) offering fuel-injected engines and Mercury
solving the problem in the traditional American (there’s no replacement for
displacement) way by releasing a 430 cubic inch (7.0 litre) V8 although it was so big and
heavy it made the bulky Hemi seem something of a lightweight; the 430 did however briefly
find a niche in in power-boat racing. For 300C owners who wanted more there was
also a high-compression version with more radical valve timing rated at 390
HP (290 kW) and this was for the first time able to be ordered with a
three-speed manual transmission. Few
apparently felt the need for more and of the 2,402 300Cs sold (1,918 coupes &
484 convertibles), only 18 were ordered in high-compression form.
1958 Chrysler 300D.
Again using the Hemi 392, now tuned for a standard 380 HP (280 kW), there was for the first time the novelty of the optional Bendix “Electrojector”
fuel injection, which raised output to a nominal 390 HP (290 kW) although
its real benefit was the consistency of fuel delivery, overcoming the starvation
encountered sometimes under extreme lateral load. Unfortunately, the analogue electronics of
the era proved unequal to the task and the unreliability was both chronic and insoluble, thus almost all the 21 fuel-injected cars were retro-fitted
with the stock dual-quad induction system and it’s believed only one 300D
retains its original Bendix plumbing.
Also rare was the take-up rate for the manual transmission option and
interestingly, both the two known 300Ds so equipped were ordered originally
with carburetors rather than fuel injection.
The engineers also secured one victory over the stylists. After testing on the proving grounds
determined the distinctive, forward jutting “eyebrow” header atop the windscreen
reduced top speed by 5 mph (8 km/h), they managed to convince management to
authorize an expensive change to the tooling, standardizing the convertible’s
compound-curved type “bubble windshield”, a then rare triumph of function over
fashion. Although the emphasis of the
letter series cars was shifting from the track to the roads, the things
genuinely still were fast and one (slightly modified) 300D was set a new class record
of 156.387 mph (251.681 km/h) on the Bonneville Salt Flats. Production declined to 810 units (619 coupes
& 191 convertibles).
1959 Chrysler 300E.
With the coming of the 1959 range, the Hemi was retired
and replaced by a new 413 cubic inch (6.8 litre) V8 with wedge-shaped
combustion chambers. Lighter by some 100
lb (45 kg) and cheaper to produce than the Hemi with its demanding machining
requirements and intricate valve train, the additional displacement allowed
power output to be maintained at 380 HP (280 kW) while torque
(something more significant for what most drivers on the street do most of the
time actually increased). The manual
transmission option was also deleted with no market resistance and despite the
lower production costs, the price tag rose, something probably more of a factor
in the declining sales than the loss of the much vaunted Hemi and, like the
300D (and most of the rest of the industry) the year before, the economy was
suffering in the relatively brief but sharp recession and Chrysler probably did
well to shift 390 units (550 coupes & 140 convertibles).
1960 Chrysler 300F (left) and 300F engine with Sonoramic intake in red (right).
Although the rococo styling cues remained, underneath now lay radical modernity, the corporation’s entire range (except for exclusive Imperial line) switching from ladder frame to unitary construction. The stylists however indulged themselves with more external flourishes, allowing the tailfins an outward canter, culminating sharply in a point and housing boomerang-shaped taillights. Even the critics of such things found it a pleasing look although they were less impressed by the faux spare tire cover (complete with an emulated wheel cover!) on the trunk (boot), dubbing it the “washing machine lid” or “toilet seat”. The interior though was memorable with four individual bucket in leather with a center console between extending the cockpit’s entire length and there was also Chrysler’s intriguing electroluminescent instrument display which, rather than being lit with bulbs, exploited a phenomenon in which a material emits light in response to an electric field; the ethereal glow was much admired. Buyers in 1959 may have felt regret in not seeing a Hemi in the engine bay, but after lifting the hood of a 300F they wouldn’t have been disappointed because, in designer colors (gold, silver, blue & red) sat the charismatic “Sonoramic” intake manifold, a “cross-ram” system which placed the carburetors at the sides of engine, connected by long tubular runners. What the physics of this did was provide a short duration “supercharging” effect, tuned for the mid-range torque most used when overtaking at freeway speeds. Also built were a handful of “short ram” Sonoramics which had the tubes (actually with the same length) re-tuned to deliver top-end power rather than mid-range torque. Rated at a nominal 400 (300 kW) HP, these could be fitted also with the French-built Pont-a-Mousson 4-speed manual transmission used in the Chrysler V8-powered Facel Vega and existed only for the purpose of setting records, six 300Fs so equipped showing up at the 1960 Dayton Speed Week where they took the top six places in the event’s signature Flying Mile, crossing the traps at between 141.5-144.9 mph (227.7-233.3 km/h). The market responded and sales rose to 1217 (969 & 248 convertibles) and the 300F (especially those with the “short ram” Sonoramics) is the most collectable of the letter series.
1961 Chrysler 300G.
The 300G gained canted headlights, another of those
styling fads of the 1950s & 1960s which quickly became passé but now
seem a charming period piece. There
was the usual myriad of detail changes the industry in those days dreamed up
each season, usually for no better reason that to be “different” from last year’s
model and thus be able to offer something “new”. As well as the slanted headlights, the fins became sharper still and taillights were moved. Mechanically, the specification substantially
was unaltered, the Sonoramic plumbing carried over although the expensive,
imported Pont-a-Mousson transmission was removed from the option list, replaced
by Chrysler’s own heavy-duty 3-speed manual unit, the demand for which was
predictably low. The lack of a fourth
cog didn’t impede the 300G’s performance in that year’s Daytona Flying Mile
where one would again take the title with a mark of 143 mph (230.1 km/h) and to
prove the point a stock standard model won the one mile acceleration title. People must have liked the headlights because
production reached 1617 units (1,280 coupes & 337 convertibles).
1962 Chrysler 300H.
Perhaps a season or two too late, Chrysler “de-finned” its
whole range, prompting their designer (Virgil Exner (1909–1973)) to lament his creations
now resembled “plucked chickens”. For
1962 the 300 name also lost some of its exclusivity with the addition to the
range of the 300 Sport series (offered also with four-door bodywork) and to
muddy the waters further, much of what was fitted to the 300H could be ordered
as an option on the basic 300 so externally, but for the distinctive badge,
there was visually little to separate the two.
Mechanically, the “de-contenting” which the accountants had begun to
impose as the industry chase higher profits (short-term strategies to increase “shareholder
value” are nothing new) was felt as the Sonoramic induction system moved to the
300H’s option list with the inline dual 4-barrel carburetor setup last seen on
the 300E now standard. With the in-line carburetors, the 413 was rated at 380 HP; this rose to 405 when the Sonoramic option was chosen. Because
of weight savings gained by the adoption of a shorter wheelbase platform, the
specific performance numbers of 300H actually slightly shaded its predecessor but
the cannibalizing of the 300 name and the public perception the thing’s place
in the hierarchy was no longer so exalted saw sales decline to 570 (435 coupes &
135 convertibles), the worst year to date.
The magic of the 300 name however seemed to work because Chrysler in the
four available body styles (2 door convertible, 2 & 4 door hardtop & 4
door sedan) sold 25,578 of the 300 Sport series, exceeding expectations. Since 1962, the verbal shorthand to distinguished between the ranges has been “letter series” and “non letter series” cars.
1963 Chrysler 300J.
Presumably in an attempt to atone for past sins, a spirit of rectilinearism washed through Chrysler’s design office while the 1963 range was being prepared and it would persist until the decade’s end when new sins would be committed. Unrelated to that was the decision to skip a 300I because of concerns it might be read as the wholly numeric 3001. The de-contenting (now an industry trend) continued with the swivel feature for the front bucket seats deleted while full-length centre console was truncated at the front compartment with the rear seat now a less eye-catching bench. The 413 V8 was offered in a single configuration but the Sonoramics were again standard and the three-speed manual transmission remained optional, seven buyers actually ticking the box. The 300J was still a fast car, capable of a verified 142 mph (229 km/h) although the weight and gearing conspired against acceleration but a standing quarter mile (400 m) ET (elapsed time) of 15.8 was among the quickest of the cars in its class. Still, it did seem the end of the series might be nigh with the convertible no longer offered and the sales performance reflected the feeling, only 400 coupes leaving the showrooms.
The BUFF: The new version of the Boeing B-52 Stratofortress (replacing the B-52H) will be the B-52J, not B-52I or B-52HH.
Like Chrysler and most bra manufacturers, the US Air Force also opted to skip “I” when allocating a designation for the updated version of the Boeing B-52 Stratofortress (1952-1962 and still in service). Between the first test flight of the B-52A in 1954 and the B-52H entering service in 1962, the designations B-52B, B-52C, B-52D, B-52E, B-52F & B-52G sequentially had been used but after flirting with whether to use B52J as an interim designation (reflecting the installation of enhanced electronic warfare systems) before finalizing the series as the B-52K after new engines were fitted, in 2024 the USAF announced the new line would be the B-52J and only a temporary internal code would distinguish those not yet re-powered. Again, the “I” was not used so nobody would think there was a B521. Although the avionics, digital displays and ability to carry Hypersonic Attack Cruise Missile (HACM, a scramjet-powered weapon capable exceeding Mach 5) are the most significant changes for the B-52J, visually, it will be the replacement of the old Pratt & Whitney TF33 engines with new Rolls-Royce F130 units which will be most obvious, the F130 promising improvements in fuel efficiency of some 30% as well as reduction in noise and exhaust emissions. Already in service for 70 years, apparently no retirement date for the B-52 has yet been pencilled-in. In USAF (US Air Force) slang, the B-52 is the BUFF (the acronym for big ugly fat fellow or big ugly fat fucker depending on who is asking). From BUFF was derived the companion acronym for the LTV A-7 Corsair II (1965-1984, the last in active service retired in 2014) which was SLUFF (Short Little Ugly Fat Fellow or Short Little Ugly Fat Fucker).
1964 Chrysler 300K.
Selling in 1963 only 400 examples of what was intended as one of the corporations “halo” cars triggered management to engage in what Americans had come to call an “agonizing reappraisal”. The conclusion drawn was the easiest way to stimulate demand was to lower the basic entry price to ownership of the name and if buyers really wanted the fancy stuff once fitted as standard, they could order it from an option list; it was essentially the same approach as used for most of Chrysler’s other ranges. That was made possible by the use of main-frame computers in a system which translated (1) the boxes (ticked in ink) on a dealer's order form, (2) via the fingers of a data-entry clerk (the trade an early victim of what would evolve into AI (artificial intelligence)) onto, (3) a punch card which would send, (4) the structured data to a dot-matrix printer which would generate, (5) a "build-sheet". It was each car's build-sheet which listed all its options and from this it was configured as it moved along the production-line. Accordingly, in this brave new world, leather trim and many power accessories joined air-conditioning in being consigned to the option list. The system worked but that success ultimately was the cause of its demise. As well as generating individual build sheets, once aggregated, all this information formed a big "data set" which meant there could be "data analysts" employed. What these walking pocket calculators worked out was it was possible to predict much of what would be ticked on the dealers' order forms and it was thus more profitable to produce runs with certain "bundles" of options and sell it as a model line, the classic example of the 1970s & 1980s the many "executive" packages which included power-steering, automatic transmission and air-conditioning.
The 300K's base engine was now fitted with a single four barrel carburetor although for an additional US$375, the dual-quad Sonoramic could be ordered and combined with Chrysler’s new, robust four-speed manual transmission. Surprising some observers, the convertible coachwork made a return to the catalogue. All that meant the 300K could be advertised for US$1000 less than the 300J and the market responded in a text book example of price elasticity of demand, production spiking to 3647 (3,022 coupes & 625 convertibles), 84 of which were fitted with the four speed manual gearbox (50 hard tops & 34 convertibles, the latter number higher than many might have expected). Although the basic engineering remained sound, stylistically, the whole range suffered because the lines lacked the flair of what GM was offering .
1965 Chrysler 300L (four speed manual).
Despite the stellar sales of the 300K, even before the release of the 300L, the decision had been taken it would be the last of the letter series. The tastes of those who wanted high performance had shifted to the smaller, lighter pony cars and intermediates, neither segment envisaged when the C-300 had made its debut a decade earlier. Additionally, the letter series had outlived its usefulness as a corporate image-maker now they were no longer the fastest in the fleet and production-line rationalization meant it was easier and more profitable to maintain a single 300 line and allow buyers to choose their own mix of options; in other words, after 1965, it would still be possible to create a 300 in the spirit of the letter cars in most aspects except the badge and the now departed Sonoramics of fond memory. When the last 300L was produced it was configured with a single four barrel carburetor and few would have noticed the differences between it and most other 300s. The lower price though continued to attract buyers and in its final year 2845 were sold (2,405 coupes & 440 convertibles) and a perhaps surprising 96 (or possibly 98) buyers opted for the four-speed manual but on the full-sized lines the configuration approaching extinction after a brief life; the 1970 Ford XL would be the last of such machines listed with the option.
1970 Chrysler 300-H (300 Hurst).
There was an unexpected coda to the 300 letter series. Although “surprise” is sometimes a tactic in marketing, what was strange about the release of the Chrysler 300-Hurst (introduced in February 1970 at the Chicago Auto Show) was it being a surprise to the dealers parking it in their showrooms. Improbable as it sounds for a product released in the citadel of modern capitalism, the accepted orthodoxy is the management at Chrysler and Hurst both believed the other corporation would be handing the promotion so consequently, none was ever done. Given the market dynamics of the time, it’s debatable whether advertising would much have stimulated demand for such a machine and as things worked out, only some 500 were built, the model never replaced. In the era, there was little consistency in how the thing was discussed with publications variously using “300H”, “300 Hurst” and “Hurst 300” but the preferred use now seems to be “300-H” to distinguish it from the original 300H of 1962. Based on the Chrysler 300 built on the corporate C-Body (with the so called “fuselage” coachwork introduced for the 1969 season) conceptually, the 300-H was very much in the letter-series tradition and featured the combination of a more powerful version of the 440 cubic inch (7.2 litre) V8 (rated at 375 (gross) HP in a dual-exhaust configuration), the TorqueFlite (727) automatic transmission and the opulent leather interior from the Imperial line. Although often listed as a footnote, purists decline to include the 300-H in the letter-series lineage.
1970 Chrysler 300-H (300 Hurst). The leather trim and power-adjustable seats came from the Imperial line.
All were finished in Spinnaker White with Satin Tan color accents & Medium Brown pin-striping, the H70–15 Goodyear Polyglas tyres mounted on 15 x 6-inch wheels in Saturn Iridescent paint. Although the high (numerically low; the final-drive ratio a conservative 3.23) gearing was indicative of a machine was built for high-speed cruising on the freeways rather than ¼ mile runs along a drag-strip, there were a few visual clues borrowed from muscle car genre, each 300-H equipped with a fibreglass hood which included the then-fashionable “power bulge” in the centre and a rear-mounted fresh air intake although unlike the muscle cars, this fed cold air not to the engine but the passenger compartment. The trunk lid (“rear-deck” in US terminology) was also a fibreglass piece which included an integrated spoiler (then referred to usually as an “airfoil”). The fibreglass mouldings were fabricated by two different companies and although the hoods were well-engineered, the rear decks lacked the internal stiffening required by a panel of such size and over time proved prone to deformation, the warping most severe if sitting for any length of time in heat.
1970 Chrysler 300-H (300 Hurst).
By 1970, the 300-H must have seemed anachronistic because the market for high-performance variants of full-sized cars had evaporated as buyer preferences switched to the smaller intermediates and pony cars, by then available with the biggest, most powerful power-plants in Detroit’s inventory. GM had withdrawn from the segment and although Ford listed the option of a four-speed manual gearbox for big XLs with 429 cubic inch (7.0 litre), none were ever built while the 1969 Mercury Marauder X-100 (essentially a cosmetic package) was automatic-only and lasted only a single season. Chrysler’s Plymouth division still offered the triple-carburetor 440 (rated in 1970 at a healthy 390 HP) in the big Sport Fury but only with an automatic and sales were low. It’s worth remembering the original Chrysler 300 “letter cars” of 1955-1956 were essentially the same size as the intermediates of the mid 1960s which became so popular and were the platform which defined the “muscle car” during its brief and crazy vogue; the size was “right” in a US context and what the full-sized lines had grown to was not. As the fuselage Chryslers came to exemplify, the huge, full-sizers would prove ideal as “land yachts” a breed particular to the 1970s in which occupants, isolated from the outside as never before (and rarely since) “floated” down the freeways, consuming fossil fuels and expelling pollutants in volumes which now would astonish most and appall Greta Thunberg (b 2003).
In 1970, Chrysler 300s tagged for conversion to 300-H specification came down the assembly line in the Jefferson Avenue plant in Detroit before being freighted to Hurst’s facility in Warminster, Pennsylvania to undergo a process which differed from the original plan: instead of deeper oil pans, upgraded ignition systems and the Hurst shifters which had made the company’s name, the cars received mostly cosmetic enhancements although the suspension was stiffened. About the only difference in configuration was some used a column-shift for the transmission and some a floor-shit with a console, the later combination used with bucket seats. Despite the 7.2 litre V8, the gearing and bulk conspired against muscle-car like acceleration although the ET (elapsed time) of 15.5 seconds for the standing quarter mile (400 m) was impressive, all things considered. However, with a MSRP (manufacturer's suggested retail price) of US$5,939 (without any options) it was the corporation’s most expensive offering (except for the Imperial line) and this, combined with the absence of promotion and the anyway declining interest in the segment meant there wasn’t a second batch beyond the original 500-odd (the total quoted variously between 485-501), many of which lingered on dealers’ lots. According to internal documents, the initial projections had anticipated sales of 2000.
The 300-H was the biggest of a number of cars to bear the Hurst name although internationally George Hurst’s (1927-1986; founder of his eponymous company), greatest legacy to the world was the “Jaws of Life”, a hydraulic cutter he first developed in 1961 after being shocked at how long it sometimes took to extract the driver from the crumpled wreck of a race car. The great advantage of the “Jaws of Life” was that it worked like a very powerful pair of scissors, avoiding the showers of sparks produced by mechanical saws, always a risk to use in areas where fuel is likely to have been spilled. The basic design came to be used in hydraulic rescue devices worldwide and quite how many lives have been saved by virtue of it use isn’t known but it would be a big number.
It’s said one 300-H was dealer-fitted with the fabled 426 cubic inch (7.0) Street Hemi V8 but like many such tales from the era, the veracity of that is uncertain and most find the story improbable. Chrysler certainly never considered using either the Hemi or the triple-carburetor (3 x 2 bbl) version of the 440 because, given the market segment at which the thing was aimed, air-conditioning (AC) was thought likely to be an often chosen option and the factory never offered the option with either the Hemi or the most powerful 440, the systems of the era not suited to the high-revving units. It’s thus an orthodoxy in the collector that “no cars with the 426 Hemi or 440 6 bbl were fitted with AC by the factory” and while that’s true of Chrysler’s factories, it not the case for every factory because Jensen in the UK offered AC in their Interceptor SP (Six-Pack, 1971-1973) which used the six-barrel 440 and the boutique Swiss manufacturer Monteverdi did include AC in the single mid-engined Hai (1970) fitted with a Hemi.
