Bugeye & Frogeye

Bugeye (pronounced buhg-ahy)

(1) A nautical term for a ketch-rigged sailing vessel used on Chesapeake Bay.

(2) A slang term, unrelated to the nautical use, used to describe objects or creatures with the bulging eyes resembling those of certain bugs.

1883: An Americanism, the construct being bug + eye, coined to describe the 1880s practice of shipwrights painting a large eye on each bow of the ketches used for oyster dredging in Chesapeake Bay, an estuary in the US states of Maryland and Virginia.  Bug dates from 1615–1625 and the original use was to describe insects, apparently as a variant of the earlier bugge (beetle), thought to be an alteration of the Middle English budde, from the Old English -budda (beetle) but etymologists are divided on whether the phrase “bug off” (please leave) is related to the undesired presence of insects or was of a distinct origin.  Although “unbug” makes structural sense (ie remove a bug, as opposed to the sense of “debug”), it doesn’t exist whereas forms such as the adjectives unbugged (not bugged) and unbuggable (not able to be bugged) are regarded as standard.  Eye pre-dates 900 and was from the Middle English eie, yë, eighe, eyghe, yȝe, eyȝe & ie, from the Old English ēge, a variant of ēage, from the Proto-West Germanic augā, from the Proto-Germanic augô (eye).  It was cognate with the German Auge & the Icelandic auga and akin to the Latin oculus (eye), the Lithuanian akìs (eye), the Slavic (Polish) oko (eye), the Old Church Slavonic око (oko) (eye), the Albanian sy (eye), the Ancient Greek ὄψ (óps) (in poetic use, “eye; face”) & ὄσσε (ósse) (eyes), the Armenian ակն (akn), the Avestan aši (eyes) and the Sanskrit अक्षि (ákṣi).  A related Modern English form is “ogle”.  Bugeye is a noun and bugeyed is an adjective; the noun plural is bugeyes.  Hyphenated use of all forms is common. 

Frogeye (pronounced frog-ahy or frawg-ahy)

(1) In botany, a small, whitish leaf spot with a narrow barker border, produced by certain fungi.

(2) A plant disease so characterized.

(3) A slang term, unrelated to the botanical use, used to describe objects or creatures with the bulging eyes resembling those of frogs.

1914–15: A descriptive general term, the construct being frog + eye, for the condition Botryosphaeria obtusa, a plant pathogen that causes Frogeye leaf spot, black rot and cankers on many plant species.  The fungus was first described by in 1832 as Sphaeria obtusa, refined as Physalospora obtusa in 1892 while the final classification was defined in 1964.  Frog (any of a class of small tailless amphibians of the family Ranidae (order Anura) which typically move by hopping and in zoology often referred to as “true frog” because in general use “frog” is used loosely or visually similar creatures) pre-dates 1000 and was from the Middle English frogge, from the Old English frogga, from the Proto-West Germanic froggō (frog).  It was cognate with the Norwegian Nynorsk fraug (frog) and Old Norse frauki and there may be links with the Saterland Frisian Poage (frog) and the German Low German Pogg & Pogge (frog).  The alternative forms in English (some still in regional use at least as late as the mid-seventeenth century were frosk, frosh & frock.  Eye pre-dates 900 and was from the Middle English eie, yë, eighe, eyghe, yȝe, eyȝe & ie, from the Old English ēge, a variant of ēage, from the Proto-West Germanic augā, from the Proto-Germanic augô (eye).  It was cognate with the German Auge & the Icelandic auga and akin to the Latin oculus (eye), the Lithuanian akìs (eye), the Slavic (Polish) oko (eye), the Old Church Slavonic око (oko) (eye), the Albanian sy (eye), the Ancient Greek ὄψ (óps) (in poetic use, “eye; face”) & ὄσσε (ósse) (eyes), the Armenian ակն (akn), the Avestan aši (eyes) and the Sanskrit अक्षि (ákṣi).  A related Modern English form is “ogle”.  Frogeye is a noun and frogeyed is an adjective; the noun plural is frogeyes.  Hyphenated use of all forms is common.

Bugeye or frogeye: The Austin-Healey Sprite

1960 Austin-Healey Sprite (left) & 1972 MG Midget (right).

The Austin-Healey Sprite was produced between 1958 and 1971 (although in the last year of production they were badged as the Austin Sprite, reflecting the end of the twenty year contract with Donald Healey's (1898–1988) eponymous company).  Beginning in 1961, the car was restyled and a more conventional frontal appearance was adopted, shared with the almost identical MG Midget, introduced as at the same time as a corporate companion and the Midget outlived the Sprite, the last built in 1980.  Upon release, the Sprite immediately picked up the nicknames frogeye (UK & most of the Commonwealth) and bugeye (North America) because the headlights were mounted as protuberances atop the hood (bonnet), bearing a resemblance to the eyes of some frogs and bugs.  The original design included retractable headlights but to reduce both cost and weight, fixed-lights were used.  As purely functional mountings, such things continue to be fitted to rally-cars.  The linguistic quirk that saw the Sprite nicknamed bugeye in North America and frogeye in most of the rest of the English-speaking world is a mystery.  Etymologists have noted the prior US use of bugeye as a nautical term but it was both geographically and demographically specific and that use, visually, was hardly analogous with the Sprite.  No other explanation has been offered; the English language is like that.

1963 Lightburn Zeta (left) 1964 Lightburn Zeta Sports (centre) & Lightburn Zeta Sports with "sports lights" (right).  Not everything in the 1960s was groovy. 

1949 Crosley Hotshot.

Although distinctive, the look wasn’t new, familiar from the use of the Triumph TR2 (1952) and Crosley in the US had used a similar arrangement for their "Hotshot" & "Super Sport" (1949-1952 and notable for being fitted with four-wheel disk brakes although heey didn't work very well) and in Australia, Lightburn (previously noted for their well-regarded washing machines and cement mixers) were in 1964 forced to adopt them for the woeful Zeta Sports to meet headlight-height regulations.  The Zeta Sports was better looking than the Trabant-like "two-door sedan" which preceded it but truly that is damning with faint praise.  An adaptation (development seems not the appropriate word) of the Meadows Frisky microcar of the mid-1950s, the Zeta Sports was built in South Australia and initially it wasn't realized headlight-height rules in New South Wales (NSW) were such that the low-slung Zeta couldn't comply, even were the suspension to be raised, an expedient MG was compelled to use in 1974 to ensure the bumpers of the Midget & MGB sat at the height specified in new US rules.  Instead "sports lights" were added to the bonnet (hood) which lent more more cartoon-like absurdity to the thing but did little to increase its appeal, only a few dozen built in the two years it was available.

1959 Alfa Romeo Giulietta Sprint Speciale, Tipo (type) 101.20. 

Ungainly the bugeye lights may have been but they were a potentially handy addition given the original headlights doubled as bumper bars.  That seems a silly idea and it is but it wasn't unique to the Zeta and some examples had exquisite (if vulnerable) coachwork, such as the early (low-nose) versions of the much-admired Alfa Romeo Giulietta SS (Sprint Speciale, Tipo (type) 101.20; 1957-1962).  It was only the first 101 cars which were produced in lightweight, bumper-bar less form, that run to fulfil the FIA's homologation rules which demanded a minimum of 100 identical examples to establish eligibility in certain classes of production-car racing.

Lindsay Lohan in "bugeye" sunglasses, the look made popular by Jacqueline Kennedy (1929-1994; US First Lady 1961-1963). 

So aerodynamically efficient (the drag coefficient (CD) a reputed .28) was Carrozzeria Bertone's design that although using only a 1290 cm³ (79 cubic inch) engine with barely 100 hp (75 kW), the SS could achieve an even now impressive 200 km/h (124 mph).  Fitted with a 498 cm³ engine which yielded 21 hp (15.5 kW), the Zeta Sedan thankfully wasn't that fast but did feature a four speed manual gearbox with no reverse gear; to reverse a Zeta, the ignition key was turned the opposite direction so the crankshaft turned the other way.  All four gears remained available so top speed in reverse would presumably have been about the same as going forward but, as Chrysler discovered during the testing for the doomed Airflow (1934-1937), given the vagaries of aerodynamics, it may even have been faster, something which certainly may have been true of the Sports, (at least with the soft top erected) given the additional drag induced by the bugeye lights.  This was never subject to a practical test because unlike the sedan, the diminutive roadster had a reverse gear.  

The class-winning Austin-Healey Sprite, Coupe des Alpes rally, 1958.  With its goofy bugeyes and "grinning grill", the Sprite was often anthropomorphized.  It was part of the little machine's charm and, cheap to run and easy to tune, Sprites were for decades a mainstay of entry-level motorsport and still appear in historic categories.  For years they were cheap so predictably were repowered by more powerful engines including V8s, the transplantation of which could be challenging, as was the subsequent driving experience.

An Italian Bugeye: Pininfarina's Ferrari 330 GTC Speciale

1968 Ferrari 330 GTC.

Introduced at the 1966 Geneva Auto Show, the 330 GTC was an important model for Ferrari and something of a watershed, the model defining the template which would be used for a succession of grand touring models which profitably could be manufactured and sold in volumes which, by Ferrari’s historic standards, constituted mass-production.  Between 1966-1968 597 were built (the of-quoted 598 said to be a double-counting of one chassis number), buyers attracted not only by the style but also creature comforts like air-conditioning and electric windows.  Additionally, there had been refinements to extend the appeal beyond those drawn to the faster but more raucous sports cars, independent rear suspension meaning the ride was softer and the attention paid to NVH (noise, vibration and harshness although the acronym wasn’t then in use in Italy where all three qualities still had a following) meant merely the thing was less tiring (noise is a source of stress); the 330 GTC was said to be the first Ferrari in which the radio genuinely was usable.  Styled by Pininfarina, taking cues from the 500 Superfast (1964-1966) at the front and the 275 GTS (1964-1966) to the rear, it shared the 2,400 mm (94½ inch) wheelbase of the 275 GTB (1964-1968).  A lovely, elegant shape which aged well, it wouldn’t seem to need enhancement but Pininfarina did just that, using the 330 GTC as a test-bed for a number of design studies, some of the details almost imperceptible and some obvious.

1964 Ferrari 330 GT 2+2 (left) and 1967 Ferrari 365 California Spyder (right). 

Of the latter, the most obvious was the addition of a pair of Supervis (super vision) driving lights in retractable housings, as used on the Ferrari 365 California Spyder (1966-1967).  By the mid 1960s, integrated quad headlights had for a decade been a part of mainstream design but their appearance on a Ferrari  had not met with universal praise, the 330 GT 2+2 (1964-1967) produced for its first two seasons with four but reverting to what was judged a more aesthetically accomplished pair for the rest of its run.  Speeds however were rising and the networks of European roads designed for high speed cruising rapidly were being extended and the need for better headlights was acknowledged.  Soon, technology would provide that but in the short term the solution was to add another pair and the retractable units on the Superfast were a way to do that without compromising the marque’s recognizable design language.  It was only on the Superfast the Supervis lights were standard equipment and they appeared on only two of the four 330 GTC Speciales along with a handful of regular production 330 GTC (fitted upon customer request, most sources suggest only three took up the option) and the clearly limited demand, coupled with the labor-intensive installation process, dissuaded Ferrari from extending availability as early as 1965 they appear to have vanished from the option list.  Not until compelled by US regulators a half-decade later would the factory return to retractable headlights, by then in a symmetrical quad.

Ferrari 330 GTC Speciale (serial number 8727, Pininfarina construction number CO 004, left) and in bug-eye mode (right).  This does hint why rarely are the the 365 California Spyders photographed with headlights raised. 

The brace of Supervis on chassis 8727 had a history.  Sometime prior to 1988 the front of the car had been damaged and when repairs were effected, the bug-eye lights simply were removed, the suddenly gaping apertures covered with a plug from sheet aluminium; once painted, the nose again resembled that of the standard 330 GTC the car had once been.  It was only during a later restoration the plugs were discovered and information was sought from Pininfarina which provided details of the history.  Obviously the rotating mechanisms were no longer available so those on one of the 14 365 California Spyders were removed and disassembled, allowing every part exactly to be duplicated, a process as expensive as it sounds and, adding to the cost, it was necessary to fabricate a new nose-cone because the existing metal surrounding the plugs had become too fragile to support the weight.

Skinnytoker Trindalyn Mackenzie skinnysplaining that "skinny isn't owned, it's rented".

The bug-eye look was adopted by the skinnytokers (the skinnytok community said to be "the acceptable pro ana") because the exaggerated size of the frames and lens creates the visual illusion of making the face appear thinner although Trindalyn Mackenzie seems anyway splendidly slender.  

A French bugeye: The Matra 530SX

Matra’s 1967 advertising copy for the last of the Sports Jets (left) and a 530 (right).

René Bonnet (1904–1983) was a self-taught French designer and engineer who joined the long list of those unable to resist the lure of building a car bearing his name.  It ended badly but his venture does enjoy a place in history because briefly he produced the first mid-engined road cars offered for general sale, some four years after the configuration had in Formula One racing begun to exert a dominance which endures to this day.  His diminutive sports car (marketed variously as René Bonnet Djet, Matra-Bonnet Djet, Matra Sports Djet & Matra Sports Jet) were produced by his company between 1962-1964 and by Matra for a further two years, the French manufacturer taking over the concern when Bonnet was unable to pay for the components earlier supplied.  While Matra continued production of the Djet, it used the underpinnings for a much revised model which would in 1967 emerge as the Matra 530.

Matra R.530 surface to air missile (1962, left) and René Bonnet Missile (1959-1962).

It was only force of circumstances which would lead Matra to producing the Djet.  As Bonnet’s largest creditor when the bills grew beyond his capacity to pay, the accountants worked out the only hope of recovering their stake was to take the equity and continue the operation.  Although asset-stripping wasn’t then the thing it would later become, there’s nothing to suggest this was contemplated and the feeling was the superior administrative capacity of Matra would allow things to be run in a more business-like manner although there was genuine interest in the workforce’s skills with the then still novel fibreglass.  However, although Djet production resumed under new management, Bonnet’s other offerings such as the Missile (1959-1962) were retired.  The missile, a small, front-wheel drive (FWD) convertible was a tourer in the pre-war vein rather than a sports car but while the idea probably had potential, the price was high, the performance lethargic and the styling quirky even by French standards.  In looks, it had much in common with the contemporary Daimler SP250 including the tailfins and catfish-like nose but while the British roadster was genuinely a high-high performance (if flawed) sports car, the missile did not live up to its name; under the hood (bonnet) sat small (some sub 1000 cm³) four cylinder engines rather than the Daimler’s sonorous V8.  One influence did however carry over: Matra named the 530 after one of their other products: the R.530 surface to air missile which had entered service in 1962 after a five year development.

Vis-à-vis: Matra 530: The LX (left) and the SX (right).

Using three-numeral numbers for car names is not unusual but usually the reference is to engine capacity (in the metric world a 280 being 2.8 litres, a 350, 3.5 litres etc while in imperial terms 350, 427 et al stood as an indication of the displacement in cubic inches).  Buick proved a contrarian, their 445 V8 gaining the name from its torque rating and the company used 225 in honor of the impressive 225 inch (5.7 m) length of the the 1959 Electra (Jayne Mansfield (1933–1967) died in a 225), sticking to to it for years even as the thing grew and shrunk and there have been many three-digit numbers which indicated a model's place in the hierarchy, the choice sometimes seemingly arbitrary.  Porsche in 1963 thought 901 was innocuous but Peugeot objected, claiming an exclusive right (for cars sold in France) to the use of three digit numbers with a central "0".  At that point Mercedes-Benz had in France been for a decade been selling the 300 and were about to release the 600 so it seemed an ambitious claim but, given the advice the case would be heard in a French court (which meant the French would win), Porsche renamed the thing 911 and the rest is history.  The "Letter Series" Chrysler 300 gained the name from its industry-leading 300 horse power, 331 cubic inch (5.4 litre) V8 and such was the reputation the thing soon established that even though over the following eleven years displacement and power both rose, the "300" model designation was retained, the allure so strong there was a twenty-first century revival.  Even now, 300 sounds an impressive number if linked to horsepower while the "110" used by both Austin and Wolseley doesn't stir the imagination, even though it denoted a useful 11% jump in horsepower from the previous 99.  The three-dozen odd models of the French Monica (1971-1975) were all called "560" because although Chrysler invoiced the company for "340 cid" (cubic inch displacement) V8s, to have called it the 340 would have baffled many in Europe for whom inches were mysterious so 560 it was, a familiar allusion to its 5.6 litres.  Unfortunately, after the ripples of the first oil shock washed over Europe after 1973, engines of that size become suddenly unfashionable and Monica was doomed along with most of the once lucrative trans-Atlantic ecosystem.  

1971 Chrysler (Australia) VG Valiant Regal 770 Hardtop.

Perhaps because 220, 440, 330 and such can be multiples of amicable numbers (and thus possess a beauty for mathematicians), they seem to have been used as model designations unrelated to the three numeral string’s usual function of (usually with some rounding up or down) indicating engine displacement (Kawasaki 440=440 cm3; Mercedes-Benz 220=2.2 litres; Oldsmobile 330=330 cid etc). AMC (American Motor Corporation) had the most complete sequence, using 220, 330, 440, 550, 660, 770, 880 & 990 to tag a model’s place in the hierarchy and in Australia Chrysler used 660 and 770 for their blinged-up Hillman Hunter and Valiant respectively; they also called the Hunter a “Royal” in case 660 was too abstract for the colonials. There, Ford's Mark 1 Cortina was sold as a 220 (the so-called "poverty" model which was a two-door without even a standard heater so it could be advertised at the lowest possible price) & 440 (the better equipped four-door version).  When a two door version with the 440 equipment levels was released, in stead of 330 it was called 240. 550 is also a footnote because the Mercedes-Benz R230 (2001-2011) was unusual because of the quirk of the SL 550 (2006-2011), a designation used exclusively in the North American market, the RoW (rest of the world) cars retaining the SL 500 badge even though both used the 5.5 litre (333 cubic inch) V8 (M273).

Nor is a link with the materiel of the military unusual, the names of warships have been borrowed and Chevrolet used Corvette as a deliberate allusion to speed and agility but an air-to-air missile was an unusual source although Dodge did once display a Sidewinder show car.  Eventually the Corvette did live up to its name although the humble Triumph Spitfire was a far cry from the fighter aircraft which became famous in the Battle of Britain (1940).  At the time though, it wasn't the Matra's name which attracted most comment.  There have been quite a few French cars which looked weirder than the 530 but the small, mid-engined sports car was visually strange enough although, almost sixty years on, it has aged rather well and the appearance would by most plausibly be accepted as something decades younger.  The automotive venture wasn’t a risk for Matra because it was a large and diversified industrial conglomerate with profitable interests in transport, telecommunications, aerospace and of course defence (missiles, cluster-bombs, rockets and all that).  As things transpired, the automotive division would for a while prove a valuable prestige project, the participation in motorsport yielding a Formula One Constructors’ Championship and three back-to-back victories in the Le Mans 24 hour endurance classic.

Matra 530: The LX (left) and the SX (right).

The road-car business however proved challenging and Matra never became a major player.  Although the British and Italians would prove there was a market for small, economical sports cars, buyers seemed mostly to prefer more traditionally engineered roadsters which were ruggedly handsome rather than delicately avant-garde.  Although as a niche model in a niche market, the volumes were never high, the 530 was subject to constant development and in 1970 the 530LX was released, distinguished by detail changes and some mechanical improvements.  Most distinctive however was next year’s 530SX, an exercise in “de-contenting” (producing what the US industry used to call a “stripper”) so it could be offered at a lower price point, advertised at 19,000 Fr against the 22,695 asked for the LX.  It was a linguistic coincidence the SX label was later chosen for the lower price 386 & 486 CPUs (central processing unit) by the US-based Intel although they labeled their full-priced offerings DX.

Yuri Gagarin (1934–1968; Soviet pilot and cosmonaut and the first human to travel to “outer space”) with his 1965 Matra Djet (left), standing in front of the Покори́телям ко́смоса (Monumént Pokorítelyam kósmosa) (Monument to the Conquerors of Space), the titanium obelisk erected in 1964 to celebrate the USSR's pioneering achievements in space exploration.  The structure stands 351 feet (107 metres) tall and assumes an incline of 77° which is a bit of artistic licence because the rockets were launched in a vertical path but it was a good decision however because it lent the monument a greater sense of drama.  Underneath the obelisk sits the Музей космонавтики (Memorial Museum of Cosmonautics (known also as the Memorial Museum of Astronautics or Memorial Museum of Space Exploration)) and in the way which was typical of projects in the Brezhnev-era (Leonid Brezhnev (1906–1982; Soviet leader 1964-1982) USSR, although construction was begun in 1964, it wasn't until 1981 the museum opened to the public.  In the Soviet Union, while it was common for projects to be delayed for years, they were usually described as "ahead of schedule". 

The reduction in the cost of production of the SX was achieved in the usual way: remove whatever expensive stuff can be removed.  Thus (1) the retractable headlights were replaced with four fixed “bugeyes”, a single engine air vent was fitted instead of the LX’s four, (3) the rear seat and carpet were deleted, (4) the front seats were non-adjustable, (5) the trimmed dashboard was replaced by one in brushed aluminium (which was much-praised), the removable targa panels in the roof were substituted with a solid panel and, (7) metal parts like bumpers and the grille were painted matte black rather than being chromed.  In the the spirit of the ancien regime, the Frensh adopted the nicknames La Matra de Seigneur (the Matra of a Lord) for the LX & La Matra Pirate (the Matra of a pirate) for the SX.

Who wore the bugeye best?  Austin-Healey Sprite (1958, left), Lightburn Zeta Sports (1964, centre) and Matra 530SX (1971, right).

The SX did little to boost sales and even in 1972 which proved the 530’s most prolific year with 2159 produced, buyers still preferred the more expensive model by 1299 to 860.  Between 1967-1973, only 9609 530s were made: 3732 of the early models, 4731 of the LX and 1146 of the bugeyed SX and, innovative, influential and intriguing as it and the Djet were, it was a failure compared with something unadventurous like the MGB (1963-1980), over a half-million of which were delivered.  One 530 however remains especially memorable, a harlequinesque 1968 model painted by French artist Sonia Delaunay (1885–1979), a founder of the school of Orphism (a fork of Cubism which usually is described as an exercise in pure abstraction rendered in vivid colors).  The work was commissioned by Matra's CEO Jean-Luc Lagardère (1928–2003) for a charity auction and still is sometimes displayed in galleries.  In 2003, after some thirty years of co-production with larger manufacturers, Matra’s automotive division was declared bankrupt and liquidated.

Swansong

Swansong (pronounced swon-sawng)

(1) The last act or manifestation of someone or something; farewell appearance.

(2) According to legend, the first and last song a dying swan was said to sing.

1831: A compound word, swan + song and a calque from the original German Schwanenlied (that construct being Schwan + Lied).  Swan dated from before 900 and was from the Middle English & Old English swan, from the Proto-Germanic swanaz (swan, literally “the singing bird”), from the primitive Indo-European swonhz- & swenhz- (to sing, make sound”).  It was cognate with the West Frisian swan, the Low German Swaan, the Dutch zwaan, the German Schwan, the Norwegian svane and the Swedish svan.  It was related also to the Old English ġeswin (melody, song) & swinsian (to make melody), the Latin sonus (sound), the Old Norse svanr, the Middle Low German swōn and the Russian звон (zvon) (ringing) & звук (zvuk) (sound).  Song was from the Middle English & Old English song & sang (noise, song, singing, chanting; poetry; a poem to be sung or recited, psalm, lay), from the Proto-Germanic sangwaz (singing, song), from the primitive Indo-European songwh-o- (singing, song) from sengwh- (to sing). It was cognate with the Scots sang & song (singing, song), the Saterland Frisian Song, the West Frisian sang, the Dutch zang, the Low German sang, the German Sang (singing, song), the Swedish sång (song), the Norwegian Bokmål sang, the Norwegian Nynorsk (song), the Icelandic söngur and the Ancient Greek ὀμφή (omphḗ) (voice, oracle).  It was related to the Gothic saggws and the Old High German sang.  Swansong (used also a swan song & swan-song) is a noun; the noun plural is swansongs.

The English swansong (which has always existed also as swan song and swan-song) was a calque of the German Schwanenlied (Schwan (swan) + Lied (song)) (also as Schwanengesang), the term alluding to the old belief that swans normally are mute but burst into beautiful song moments before they die.  Although the idea is much older, swansong appeared first in English translation in 1831 but did not pass into common use until after 1890 which is perhaps surprising giver Chaucer mentions the singing of swans as early as the late fourteenth century.  To date, Lindsay Lohan's last single release was Back to Me (2020), released on the Casablanca label.  She has hinted it may be included on a yet to be released third album but this far, musically, it's her swansong.

The romantic roadster's swansong

Ferrari's Dino 246 F1 on the Monza banking, Italian Grand Prix, September 1960.

The swansong for the front-engined open wheel racing cars which had since the early twentieth century dominated top-flight motorsport came in the 1960s.  In 1959, both the driver’s and constructor’s championships were claimed using rear-engined machines and as the new decade began, it was obvious to all in the once unpredictable behaviour of the layout had been mastered (at least on race tracks in the hands of expert drivers) and the opening eight rounds of the season did nothing to change that view, rear-engined cars winning the lot.  Ferrari, still running the front-engined Dino 246 F1, were not happy and that meant most of Italy was similarly grumpy, something which induced the organizers of the Italian Grand Prix to stage their event under conditions designed to suit the Scuderia’s last remaining advantage: straight-line speed.  Accordingly, it was announced the event would be held using the combined road and oval course at the Monza Autodrome, making what was already the championship’s highest speed circuit faster still.  With both the driver's & constructor's titles already decided, other leading teams opted to boycott the event, attracted by neither the prospect of their delicate machines being subjected to the notorious roughness of the concrete banking nor the prospect of a high-speed accident following mechanical damage.  As planned, Scuderia Ferrari enjoyed a 1-2-3 result, delighting the Italian crowd.  It was the last World Championship grand prix won by a front-engined car.

The rebodied 246 F1, Lady Wigram Trophy weekend, RNZAF (Royal New Zealand Air Force) Wigram Air Base, Christchurch, New Zealand, 1964.

The winning Dino 246 F1 therefore became a machine of some historical significance but even though Enzo Ferrari (1898-1988) may have suspected the success would not again be repeated, he was not sentimental about yesterday’s car, happy usually to sell anything obsolete to gain funds so he might build something with which to win tomorrow.  The Monza winner was thus sold to a private racer in New Zealand who, with a similar pragmatism, removed the 2.5 litre V6 in favour of the greater power and torque offered by a 3 litre V12 Testa Rossa engine in sports car trim.  In that form, he campaigned the hybrid Ferrari for two quite successful years but found no buyers when he tried to sell it, most agreeing with Il Commendatore that, big engine and all, it was just another, uncompetitive relic with the engine in the wrong place.  Thinking laterally, the owner took a very modern approach, having a coachbuilder fabricate in sixteen gauge aluminium a body strikingly similar to the factory’s own 250 GTOs, creating a very fast road car and one of the few on the road with the underpinnings of the machine which won an Italian Grand Prix.  The rules were rather more relaxed in those days.  In that form it was run until 1967 when it was sold, along with its original body, to an English collector who restored it to it with its V6 engine to the configuration in which it ran at Monza in 1960.  It’s still seen as an entry in historic events on the European calendar.

Ran just before crashed, nicely patinaed, one headlamp believed matching numbers and many parts still original: 1954 Ferrari 500 Mondial, as sold (left & centre) and in period (right).

To Enzo Ferrari for whom old race cars were usually just assets to be sold, it would in 1960 have amused him had anyone suggested decades later, people would pay millions of dollars for old, battered Ferraris, some of which never came close to winning anything.  Improbable as it would have sounded, he might have conceded such things could one day happen if the vehicles had four wheels and were drivable but the state of the 1954 Ferrari 500 Mondial which in August 2023 sold at auction for US$1.875 million would have been beyond comprehension.  The second Mondial built and one of 13 examples with Pininfarina spider coachwork, it was one of the rare “customer” race cars which used two litre, four cylinder engines and was campaigned extensively in Italy and the US where, sometime between 1963-1965 (the stories vary) it crashed and was incinerated, apparently while fitted with a Chevrolet V8, the swap a common practice at the time.

Some assembly required.

The provenance is solid if not illustrious.  It was raced by a one-time Scuderia Ferrari team driver and its many appearances included starts in the Mille Miglia, Targa Florio, and Imola Grand Prix.  Although the original engine was long gone, the sale included a comparable 3.0-liter Tipo 119 Lampredi four while the transmission was original and thus the prized “matching numbers”.  Belying the (usually undeserved reputation) Italian corporations have for chaotic record keeping, the supplied documentation was an impressive wad, including the precious factory build sheets and homologation papers.  In the hands of experts, such a thing can be restored although without the original engine, it hard to predict if it will realise the same value as the US$4.15 million a fully-restored Mondial (Chassis number 0448 MD and all “matching numbers”) achieved in 2019.

The Offenhauser-powered Watson Special, winner of the 1964 Indianapolis 500.

In the US, the swansong of the front-engined roadsters at the Indianapolis 500 came a little later, the last victory coming in 1964.  As in so many things however, the end came quickly and the next year a solitary roadster completed the full race distance, finishing a creditable fifth.  The last roadster to appear in the event in 1968 qualified on the second to last row of the grid and completed only nine laps of the 200, retiring with a collapsed piston.  That run was at the time little noted but it’s now remembered as the swansong of the front-engined roadsters in top flight racing. 

Richard Strauss, Vier Letzte Lieder (Four Last Songs)

Richard Strauss (1864-1949), was the last great German composer in the Romantic tradition and Vier Letzte Lieder (Four Last Songs) was his swansong, the last set of work he wrote.  Inspired by the poetry of Nobel Laureate Hermann Hesse (1877-1962) and Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff (1788-1857), all four are pieces of exquisite beauty but Strauss didn’t live to hear them performed, the premiere delivered posthumously in London in 1950, sung by Kirsten Flagstad (1895–1962), accompanied by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra under Wilhelm Furtwängler (1886–1954).

Many notable sopranos have sung the songs but the definitive performance remains the 1965 recording by Elisabeth Schwarzkopf (1915-2006) with the Radio-Symphonieorchester Berlin under György Széll (1897–1970).  (CD: EMI Classics Cat: 0724356696020[9]).

Four Last Songs Since their collaboration, the need again to record the songs vanished; it's simply not possible to improve on  Schwarzkoph's achievement in 1965.  Re-mastered versions from the original master-tapes have been released and they're of interest to audiophiles but add nothing to the atmospherics so well captured in the Berlin sessions. 

Spring (Hermann Hesse)

Wandering in darkness under your high
vaulting branches, I have dreamed so long
of your green leaves and breezy blue sky,
the vibrant fragrances–and the bird song!
 
Now, as you open your robe of winter night,
your brilliance staggers every sense.
The world sparkles in the light
of a Miracle, your recurring presence.
 
I feel the healing touch
of softer days, warm and tender.
My limbs tremble–happily, too much–
as I stand inside your splendor.

September (Hermann Hesse)

The garden mourns.
The flowers fill with cold rain.
Summer shivers
in the chill of its dying domain.
 
Yet summer smiles, enraptured
by the garden’s dreamy aphasia
as gold, drop by drop, falls
from the tall acacia.
 
With a final glance at the roses–
too weak to care, it longs for peace–
then, with darkness wherever it gazes,
summer slips into sleep.

When I Go to Sleep (Hermann Hesse)

Now that day has exhausted me
I give myself over, a tired child,
to the night and to my old friends, the stars–
my watchful guardians, quiet and mild.
 
Hands–let everything go.
Head–stop thinking.
I am content to follow
where my senses are sinking.
 
Into the darkness, I swim out free:
Soul, released from all your defenses,
enter the magic, sidereal circle
where the gathering of souls commences.

 At Sunset (Joseph Karl Benedikt Freiherr von Eichendorff)

We have passed through sorrow and joy,
walking hand in hand.
Now we need not seek the way:
we have settled in a peaceful land.
 
The dark comes early to our valley,
and the night mist rises.
Two dreamy larks sally
forth–our souls’ disguises.
 
We let their soaring flight delight
us, then, overcome by sleep
at close of day, we must alight
before we fly too far, or dive too deep.
 
The great peace here is wide and still
and rich with glowing sunsets:
If this is death, having had our fill
of getting lost, we find beauty, –No regrets.

Vis-a-vis

Vis-a-vis (pronounced vee-zuh-vee or vee-za-vee (French))

(1) A French phrase, literally, “face to face” constructed with the prepositional use of the adjective.

(2) In numismatics (of a coin) having two portraits facing each other.

(3) As a preposition (some pedants disapprove of some of the extensions of meaning), in relation to; compared with; as opposed to.

(4) A type of horse-drawn carriage commonly made by Amish coachbuilders, mostly in the mid-western US; also produced for the tourist trade in various places.  In the horse-drawn era, vis-à-vis carriages were usually described as barouches, berlines or landaus depending on their configuration.

(5) A sofa in the shape of the letter “S” with seats for two, so arranged that the occupants can be face to face while sitting on opposite sides; sometimes called the tête-à-tête (literally head to head).

(6) One’s date or escort at a social event (obsolete).

(7) In limousines, a coach-builder’s term for a rear compartment configured with two rows of seats, facing each other.

1755: From the French prepositional use of the adjective vis-à-vis (face to face) from the Old French vis (face).  Vis is from the Old French viz, from the Latin vītis (vine) from the primitive Indo-European wéhitis (that which twines or bends, branch, switch), from wehiy- (to turn, wind, bend) which influenced also the Latin vieō and the English withe.  The à is from the Old French a, from the Latin ad, from the primitive Indo-European ád (near; at).  The French vis was an obsolete word for “face”, replaced in contemporary French by visage.  The literal meaning has long run in parallel with the modern meanings (“in comparison with; in relation to; as opposed to” although pedants disapprove because of the imprecision).  In French, the original sense is preserved also as real estate jargon meaning the windows of one house are within sighting distance of those of the neighboring house (literally that the occupants can see into each-other’s homes).  In English, the un-accented spelling vis-a-vis is now more common. 

Prostoria Vis-a-vis Sofa Segment.

The companion term tête-à-tête (from the French and literally “head-to-head”) means “a private conversation between two people, usually in an intimate setting”) and thus, strictly speaking, refers to a process rather than a seating arrangement and, since advances in communication technology, one can have a tête-à-tête over a phone call whereas to be vis-a-vis with them, physical closeness is demanded.  However, the two terms are often used interchangeably and the use of vis-a-vis is also sometimes the victim of linguistic promiscuity, suggesting sometimes just about any juxtaposition.  Furniture makers also variously describe the “S” shaped sofas using either term.  Occasionally, those who use vis-a-vis in its classic sense will baffle others as Horace Greeley Hjalmar Schacht (1877–1970) managed while being cross-examined during his trial before the International Military Tribunal (IMT) at Nuremberg (1945-1946):

Prosecutor: The position you took, as I understand it, was that the Wehrmacht was important not so much as an aggressive weapon against strong countries, Austria & Czechoslovakia, as against, or vis-a-vis, if you will, the larger powers, the concert of nations in Europe… in other words, the army stood there… as a weapon… vis-a-vis the Austrians.

Schacht: Not vis-à-vis the Austrians but vis-a-vis the Allies.

Prosecutor: I am a little naïve about these things, I must say.  You say… not vis-a-vis Austria but against the powers?

Schacht: Not against the powers but vis-a-vis the powers.

The rarely convivial Hjalmar Schacht, standing right behind Führer.

Although that exchange was not critical in Schacht securing one of the three acquittals the bench handed down, the judges doubtlessly enjoyed it more than the prosecution.  At various times during the Third Reich, Schacht had served as Minister of Economics, Plenipotentiary General for War Economy and President of the Reichsbank (the German central bank) and he’d been indicted on counts one (conspiracy to commit crimes against peace) & two (crimes against peace).  His acquittal on both disappointed many but there were many technical difficulties in the case and the prosecution frankly lacked the expertise in matters of public finance and international banking needed to understand the details, let alone pursue them to the standard needed to convince the judges (except for the Russians, comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) convinced of the guilt of all) to convict.  To be fair, the matters were complex and the financial wizardry with which Schacht concocted the money to allow the Nazi’s rearmament programme to be paid for was hardly orthodox monetary policy.  In particular his invention of the Metallurgische Forschungsgesellschaft (thankfully abbreviated to Mefo) which essentially meant the Reichsbank loaned money to the government (which under any other circumstances would have been unlawful) without raising loans or increasing the money supply seemed mysterious to the lawyers.  It was quite a trick and indicative of the intricacies which littered the case.

The ex-comrade Marshal Tito 1968 Mercedes-Benz 600 Pullman Landaulet (six-door, long-roof) with jump seats. 

The optional vis-a-vis seating configuration in the rear compartment of the Mercedes-Benz 600 (W100;1963-1981) Pullman was something of a novelty, the competitor limousines from the UK or US built usually with an opulent rear bench for two or three with a pair of utilitarian fold-away (jump or occasional) seats for staff or other temporary occupants (even the infamous X-100, the Lincoln Continental in which John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963) was assassinated used jump seats).  There had been the odd exception.  While the limousines or horse-drawn carriages of kings and emperors had side-by-side seats for two to accommodate a consort, the Roman Catholic popes were granted a single, raised, throne-like chair for, unlike less spiritual heads of state, the bachelor Bishop of Rome never (officially) had a consort to accommodate (there were a few concubines but (as far as is known) they predated the automobile.

1957 Imperial Limousine by Ghia (left), 1964 Crown Imperial Limousine by Ghia (centre) and 1967 Imperial Limousine by Theodorou with the unusual folding vis-a-vis seats (right).  

The 600’s much-admired vis-a-vis option arrangement did seem to affect the US coachbuilders, the configuration seating seen more frequently in the years that followed its debut.  Prior to that, the elongated editions of Cadillacs, Packards, Lincolns and Imperials usually had rear compartments (often trimmed in leather unlike the cars from the UK which traditionally used leather only in front (for the chauffeur) with “West of England cloth” for the passengers) equipped with jump seats.  Even the Imperial Limousine built for Chrysler with (untypically) exquisite care and precision in Italy by Ghia (1957-1965) used them but when production was outsourced to US operators, coach-builders such as Chicago-based Andrew Theodorou included what they called “conversation seats” which, cleverly, were arranged vis-a-vis but folded in such a way that most of the additional space afforded by the conventional jump seats was retained.  During the stretch limousine era in the US, vis-a-vis seating was often used.

Mercedes-Benz 600 Pullman Landaulet (four-door, short-roof) with vis-a-vis seats.  Almost all the 600s delivered to North America, Australia and the UK were trimmed in leather but in Europe and some export markets, mohair wasn't unusual and the factory even made available its famously durable MB-Tex (a high quality vinyl rumored to verge on indestructible) but none were ever so equipped. 

Seated vis-a-vis, Lindsay Lohan (b 1986, right) and her sister Aliana (b 1993, left), enjoying a tête-à-tête (literally, head to head"), La Conversation bakery "& café, West Hollywood, California, April 2012.  Sadly, La Conversation is now closed.

Mercedes-Benz offered the vis-a-vis configuration, in a choice of leather or mohair, in both the 600 Pullman’s closed form and the rare landaulets with their fold-back roof.  The landaulets however were often parade vehicles, used to percolate along crowd-lined boulevards with a prince, president, pope or potentate standing and waving and for this purpose, the vis-a-vis seats intruded too much and the fold-away jump seats, which afforded more standing room, were preferred.  That’s why illustrious 600 Landaulet owners such as comrade Marshall Tito, North Korea’s Great Leader, Dear Leader & Supreme Leader, the Shah of Iran, Robert Mugabe, Saddam Hussein, Mobutu Sese Seko, Idi Amin, Nicolae Ceaușescu, P W Botha and a dozen-odd others of varying degrees of virtue, all eschewed the vis-a-vis arrangement because it made it harder to stand and wave.  Only ever produced in small numbers (although such was the factory’s misplaced optimism they hoped they might make a thousand a year) the 600 was introduced at the Internationale Automobil-Ausstellung (IAA, the  Frankfurt Motor Show, September 1963) and in a run of eighteen-odd years (1964-1981), only 2,677 were made, 2,190 of the standard-length sedan (referred to often as the short-wheelbase (SWB), a relative term given it was over eighteen feet (5.5 m) long), 487 of the twenty and a half foot long Pullmans of which 59 were landaulets.  Of the rare landaulets, most had a convertible top which exposed only rear-most of the back seats, twelve being built with a longer fabric roof which rendered open the entire rear compartment, this dozen often called the “presidential landaulets” although this was never an official name.  Although the specification sometimes varied, the Pullmans with the jump-seats usually were configured with six doors while the vis-a-vis models used four.

Vis-à-vis: Matra 530: The LX (left) and the SX (right).  The SX was France's most notable contribution to the small community of "bug-eyed" cars.