Lettrism (pronounced let-riz-uhm)
A French avant-garde art and literary movement
established in 1946 and inspired, inter alia, by Dada and surrealism. Situationism is listed by some as a coordinate term but that can be misleading, lettrism being a strand of 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.
Letters and the lettrists
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 early in the 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”.
Jacques Derrida deconstructing some
tobacco.
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; additionally considered was the "aesthetic form" of letters, by which the Lettrists meant something other than the now familiar "font design". 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 tenet 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 any conventional meaning(s). In that sense, the Lettrists can be seen as
something of a 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 etc) and Derrida’s
point actually was the hors-texte must be regarded as a part of the text. There was much intellectual opportunism in
post modernism and, for their own purposes, it suited many 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 (1) with no such page or (2) with a literally blank page without the helpful disclaimer. However, modern literary studies leaving no page unturned, there may be some earnest student of post-modernism who has written an essay convincingly explaining 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.
The Zinoviev Letter
Comrade Zinoviev
with some (presumably
authentic) letters, Illustrated London News, 1 November,
1924. The fetching hat is a traditional papakha (in the taller, slightly conical Caucasian style, often crafted from curly karakul sheepskin).
In the twenty-first century, misinformation & disinformation campaigns
can be large scale, multi-media efforts but in 1924, a single (forged) letter
was enough to produce political effects that would linger for decades. The “Zinoviev letter” was a document
purported to have been written by comrade Grigory Zinoviev (1883-1936), a Russian
Bolshevik who between 1919-1926 was predsedatel
(chairman) of Comintern (the Communist Third International (1919-1943)) and its
publication by a tabloid newspaper on the eve of the 1924 UK general election
was the most sensational event of the campaign.
The incendiary contents of the letter were what would now be called
“foreign interference”: An instruction from Moscow to the CPGB (Communist Party
of Great Britain) to engage in seditious activities, destabilizing the country
and radicalizing the working classes.
The intention of all this was not merely to influence the course of the
upcoming election but to create conditions that would be a prelude to a Bolshevik-style
revolution to spread throughout the British Empire, then at close to its
geographical peak. Led by the Daily Mail
to which the document had been leaked, the right-wing press (an institution that
had been warning of the dangers of working class revolution since the emergence
of the Labour Party a quarter-century earlier) ran a smear campaign, accusing
Labour of being a tool of Moscow and agents of a foreign, communist subversion
of British politics. Historians debate
the extent to which the letter influenced the outcome of the 1924 election but
Labour soundly was defeated, the Liberal Party’s decline continued and the Conservatives enjoyed a decisive victory. For
years after, the document generally was thought to be authentic and, beyond the
election result, the most profound effect was on the the Labour Party, a kind
of “siege mentality” infecting the membership the feeling being they were the
victims of “a vast, right-wing conspiracy” that would use any manner of foul
play to deny them office.
Zinoviev
letter, page one.
Just who wrote the Zinoviev letter has never been determined although
most historians suspect it was a forgery by White Russian émigrés, then spread
mostly between Berlin and the Baltic States but what’s of greater interest is
the alleged complicity of the UK’s intelligence services, possibly in
commissioning the document but certainly in “leaking” it to the press. What does seem clear is that regardless of
the origin, both MI5 and the SIS (MI6) were aware the letter was a forgery but,
as both organizations stridently were anti-communist and viewed the Labour
Party government as a “thin edge of the communist wedge”, opted to
leak the document, knowing the likely effect.
The extent to which other officials (notable those in the Foreign Office
among whom a copy had been circulating for almost three weeks before the
election) were aware of the provenance has long intrigued historians, many of
who have concluded there was at least a “willing suspension of disbelief” and
certainly a resolve to take advantage of the “windfall”. Although long a favorite of conspiracy
theorists, the evidence is scant the leaking was a deliberate decision by the
upper echelons in Whitehall or the intelligence community and a government
enquiry in 1998-1999 concluded the passing of the letter to the Daily Mail was
probably the result of politically motivated “rogue operatives” within SIS
“freelancing”, probably on the basis of “working towards” what they knew their
superiors really wanted. So, they got
both the desired result and plausible deniability, their ultimate “win-win
situation”. In that sense, whether those
who organized the leak knew or suspected the letter was a forgery (and it’s
clear from the records there were some in SIS and the Foreign Office with at
least “serious reservations”) had become irrelevant; all that mattered was it
was good enough to be thought authentic for the four days it would be publicized
before the election and would thus serve its operational and political purposes.
Comrades
Stalin (far left), Alexei Rykov (1881–1938, centre left), Lev Kamenev
(1883-1936, centre right) and Grigory Zinoviev (far left).
While comrades Rykov and
Kamenev opt for Leninesque “worker's caps” (a nice touch) comrade Stalin is
wearing a lower profile lower-profile, darker version of the papakha that in the West became
well-known after 1941 because it was by then the winter hat for high-ranking officers
in the Red Army. The four are
walking to a meeting of the Central Executive Committee of the Communist Party
and it was at this point (in the aftermath of the death of Vladimir Lenin
(1870-1924; Russian revolutionary & theorist, founder of the Bolsheviks and
head of government in Russia or the Soviet Union 1917-1924)) comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953)
began to assert control of the party machine, marginalizing Zinoviev and
others; by 1929, he had complete control of the vast party apparatus and thus
the Soviet state. All comrade Stalin's companions on this fateful walk would be executed during the Great Purge, as
would many once prominent in the “Stalin faction”.
For
comrade Zinoviev, things ended badly. By
the mid-1930s comrade Stalin had decided the best way to ensure his version of Bolshevik
history would become the uncontested orthodoxy was to eliminate any of his “old
revolutionary comrades” likely to contradict his versions of events and comrade
Zinoviev was on the list. In the great
purges of the late 1930s, many besides the party’s luminaries were eliminated
but the demise of comrade Zinoviev was emblematic of the way Moscow’s “show
trials” were run. Although ruthlessly
dictatorial, comrade Stalin put much emphasis on “form and appearance” (his
1937 Soviet Constitution reads like the description of a genuine utopia) and
confessions to charges (however manifestly false) were prized as an example of
“due process” having taken place.
Accordingly, comrade Zinoviev agreed to plead guilty on the condition he’d
not be handed a death sentence. To this,
comrade Stalin agreed, apparently with the words: “That of course goes without saying.”
The trial thus concluded but comrade’s
Stalin’s interpretation of “goes without saying” appears to have meant he
didn’t “say it” and, within hours of
the conviction being recorded, he ordered comrade Zinoviev taken outside and
shot. The exact number who died during
the Great Purge (1936-1938) will never be known (there was much “collateral
damage”) but estimates range between 650,000-1.2 million. Not until 1988 when then comrade Mikhail
Gorbachev (1931–2022; Soviet leader 1985-1991) instituted perestroika were comrade Zinoviev (and many of the condemned) formally
“rehabilitated” by the Military Collegium of the Supreme Court of the Soviet
Union.
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, it was a 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) rating of the 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, the marketing shifting to style and bundled "value for money".
1955 Chrysler C-300 (300A).
All C-300s were two-door hardtops (although there are unverified reports of a C-300 station wagon built for a Nevada casino operator to use as a high-speed "cash van"; the tale is likely apocryphal). Although expensive, the C-300 featured less chrome trim than other models in the range and there were no two or three-tone color combinations as was then fashionable; only Black, Tango Red or Platinum White could be ordered while the wire wheels were made by Motor Rim & Wheel Service, not Kelsey-Hayes as often is assumed. Although initially the wheels could be ordered on all models in the 1955 Chrysler range, the take-up rate was not high although many C-300s and some Imperials & New Yorkers have subsequently had them (or reproductions) retro-fitted. Despite the impression the company liked to convey in the advertising, the wire wheels were not "limited production" items, their rarity explained by costing US$617.60 for a set of five (there are various ways to calculate the modern day equivalent value but none put it at less than several thousand dollars). Restorers seeking to emulate authenticity have to pay attention to the part numbers because there were two variants of the wheels: Most Chryslers and DeSotos were fitted with the 5 × 15 inch 48-spoke units while the option for the heavier Imperial was the 5½ × 15, 52-spoke wheel, most 300s using the latter (deleted from the Imperial's option list after the C-300 was announced).
1955 Chrysler C-300.
For a
machine that became so storied and was so successful in competition, corporate
expectations for the C-300 were modest, management’s timidity revealed by the
minimal budget in 1954 allocated to a project designed to demonstrate the true
potential of the Chrysler Hemi V8 in a road car able to match the finest
from Europe. Paradoxically, that fiscal
parsimony probably ensured a better car emerged, the team compelled to spend available
funds on essential elements, encouraging even the deletion of some “decorative stuff” from the New Yorker body used as a base.
Compelled to “mix and match” from the corporate parts bin, the front
clip (the “doghouse” in assembly-line slang) came from the top-of-the-line Imperial
while the rear quarter panels and trim were borrowed from the base-model
Windsor; defying what was then an
industry trend verging on a fetish, the use of embellishing chrome trim and badgework was
minimized. What this
“quick & dirty” way of conjuring something “new” at relatively low cost
meant was the bulk of the budget could be allocated to what lay beneath and it
was that specification on which the machine’s reputation was built. The 331 cubic inch (5.4 litre) “FirePower” Hemi
V8 was anyway a solid foundation and to these were bolted cylinder heads (part
number 1556157 (often stamped with a “-1” suffix)) that came to be dubbed the “triple
nickel” or “555”; because of their adaptability to high performance
enhancements, they became the most sought-after of the factory’s early iron
castings. The approach in designing the
heads was conventional in that the goal was “better breathing”: (1) a 103 cm3
combustion chamber, (2) larger diameter valves (2 inch (50 mm) intake & 1¾ inch
(44.45 mm) exhaust), (3) larger ports and a solid lifer camshaft ground with what was, by road car standards, a radical degree of lift and overlap.
Chrysler FirePower Hemi V8 with "
dual-quad" induction and "batwing" air cleaner in 1955 C-300.
The object
was a power curve more familiar to racing drivers. With fuel delivered through a pair of Carter
WCFB four-barrel carburetors (topped by a low-profile “batwing” air cleaner,
Chrysler rated the C-300 V8 at 300 HP (horsepower) @ 5,200 RPM and 345 lb-ft
of torque @ 3,200 RPM. That made it the
most powerful V8 available in 1955 but the “300” number was chosen for
marketing purposes, the engines more potent still; that “under-rating” would be
a feature of the first two generations of Hemis. The engine was powerful enough to propel the
4,000-odd lb (1815 kg) C-300 to speeds higher than any other sedan then
available so the suspension accordingly was stiffened, the front anti-roll bar thickened with up-rated shock-absorbers (dampers) fitted while the ride height was lowered by 1½ inches (38 mm). Making a virtue of necessity, Chrysler’s
briefing to the press described the ride as “firm” (in private the engineers would admit
“truck-like”) but it made for a better handling machine although even with the 12-inch
(300 mm) power-assisted drum brakes from the 5,000-lb (227 kg) Imperial,
braking could in sustained use become marginal.
Reflecting (1) what was available from the parts bin and (2) the target
market, the only transmission offered was the PowerFlite two-speed automatic.
1955 Chrysler C-300 in NASCAR competition. The C-300 competed during the brief era in which cars genuinely close to "stock" (ie what could be purchased from the showroom floor) ran as "NASCAR stockers".
That it
“rode like a truck” was at least tacitly noted by the press but it did little
to curb their enthusiasm for what all acknowledged was the “world’s most powerful
sedan” and clearly one built with race tracks in mind. Very much in the tradition of the big,
powerful grand-touring cars of the 1930s such as the Duesenberg SJ, it was
something that with a few minor modifications could be used in competition; from
the earliest days of motoring, such machines greatly have appealed to certain
men, some of whom in 1955 were motoring journalists. It was obvious the justification for the
thing’s existence was to fulfil the homologation requirements of NASCAR
(National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing) that stipulated 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 that shamelessly wouldbe prostituted in the years to come) and used in sanctioned competition. That potential quickly was realized, the C-300
setting a number of speed records in timed distance-trials and the model won 27
of the 45 top-line events NASCAR staged in 1955, securing the
championship. The C-300 was an expensive
niche product but 1,725 were sold and although the profits from the project
were barely a blip on the balance sheet, the company scheduled a 300B for the
1956 season and such had been the publicity value gained by what would now be
called a “halo product”, there’d likely have been a encore even had fewer left
the showroom.
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 to ponder given the retardative qualities of the not much improved braking system) but also of note was the season's much talked-about option: the "Highway Hi-Fi" phonograph player that allowed a limited range of vinyl 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 (263.932 km/h), and it again dominated NASCAR, repeating the
C-300’s Grand National Championship.
Despite that illustrious record, only 1,102 were sold. In deference to the increased power and pace, wider wheels were fitted, 6 x 15 inch units on which were mounted Goodyear's new "Blue Streak" tyres although, in a departure from the usual practice, race teams tended to prefer the narrower 5½ × 15 versions because the wider rubber was subject to overheating at sustained high speed. In an indication this was a serious "dual purpose" machine able to be used as a fast road car or entered in competition, while the standard final-drive ratio was a typical 3.36:1, 12 options between 3.08:1 - 6.17:1 could be ordered.
1955 Chrysler C-300 (top left), 1970 Mercedes-Benz 280 SE 3.5 Coupé (top right), 1972 Rover 3.5 Coupé (bottom left) and 1969 Rover 3.5 Saloon (bottom right).
On sale only during the 1955-1956 seasons, 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, the latter the first of the "four-door coupés" although the motifs had been seen during the inter-war years (1919-1939).
1957 Chrysler 300C.
The 1955-1956 Chryslers had a balance and elegance of
line that could have remained a template for the industry but there were other
possibilities and these Detroit choose to pursue, creating an era of chrome-laden macropterous extravagance; it proved a stylistic cul-de-sac but undeniably was memorable. The 1957 300C undeniably was dramatic and
featured many of the elements 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; first time a convertible version was available.
By now the power race was being run in
earnest with GM (General Motors) 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.
Chrysler 300C advertising. In publicity material, the hyphenated form (in this case "300-C") sometimes was used. The
“lightning-bolt” symbol was popular when promoting many products and appeared
even on the valve cover of the 235 cubic inch (3.9 litre) “Blue Flame” straight-six
used in the C1 (1953-1962) Chevrolet Corvette between 1953-1955. The Blue Flame was rated at 150 HP so the lightning bolt may
have been optimistic.
Upon
release, the motoring press noted, with some regret, the 300C would be the last
of its breed, the AMA (American Manufacturers Association) having on 6 June,
1956 published a resolution banning “…factory participation in speed contests and forbidding
references to power, performance and speed in advertising and sales literature.” Politicians had become concerned some
vehicles now roaming the streets were more powerful than many racing cars of
only a few years earlier and while the resolution had come too late for the new
releases for the 1957 season to be cancelled, it was at the time thought the
bold advertising copy: “The Mighty Chrysler 300C.
America’s Most Powerful Car - 375 HP!” might be a swansong
for a brief era. Given that, it was
little wonder SCI (Sports Car International) lamented: “It's hard to see much of a future for
projectiles like the 300C.” As
things turned out, the manufacturers soon worked out there was much demand for
power and speed and ignored the AMA’s resolution so displacement and power
continued to grow meaning SCI’s anticipation of a “Suddenly it’s 1974” moment was premature but the magazine’s concluding
requiem for the 300C was at least half-right: “The AMA resolution puts it in a taboo class,
but its status as an American classic is assured.”
1958 Chrysler 300D.
Again using the Hemi 392, now tuned for a standard 380 HP, there was for the first time the novelty of the optional Bendix “Electrojector”
fuel injection that raised output to a nominal 390 although
its real benefit was the consistency of fuel delivery, overcoming the starvation
encountered sometimes under extreme lateral loads. Unfortunately, the analogue electronics of
the era proved unequal to the task, the unreliability was both chronic and insoluble, thus almost all the 21 fuel-injected cars being retro-fitted
with the stock dual-quad induction system; it's believed only one 300D
retains its original Bendix apparatus.
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 a prized 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-curve “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 set a new class record
of 156.387 mph (251.681 km/h) on the Bonneville Salt Flats. In a difficult year marked by a brief but sharp recession, 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. With the economy still in the throes of recovery, just as the 300D (and most of the rest of the industry) had suffered the season before, demand remained subdued and Chrysler probably did
well to shift 690 units (550 coupes & 140 convertibles).
1960 Chrysler 300F Convertible.
Although the rococo styling cues remained, underneath now
lay radical modernity, the corporation’s entire range (except the 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 centre 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.
1960 Chrysler 300F engine with Sonoramic intake (short-ram tubes) in red.
Buyers in 1959 may have felt regret in not seeing a Hemi in the engine
bay, but in 1960, 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 manifolds, a “cross-ram” system that placed the
carburetors at the sides of engine, connected to the ports 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 with half the tubes (the overall length remained the same) re-calibrated to deliver top-end power rather than mid-range
torque. Rated at a nominal 400 HP,
these could be fitted also with the French-built Pont-a-Mousson four-speed manual
transmission used in the Chrysler V8-powered Facel Vega range that was France's finest car of the post-war years. Created purely for the purpose of setting records, a half-dozen 300Fs so equipped were dispatched to that year's Daytona 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 the handful fitted 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 that 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 three-speed manual unit, 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 took the one mile acceleration title. People must have liked the headlights because, in an again buoyant economy, production reached 1617 units (1,280 coupes & 337 convertibles).
1962 Chrysler 300H.
Perhaps at least a season too late, Chrysler undertook a corporation-wide “de-finning”, 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 new variant so externally, but for the distinctive badge,
there was visually little to separate the two (since 1962, the verbal shorthand to distinguish between the ranges has been “300 letter series” and “300 non-letter series” cars). Mechanically, the “de-contenting” (something the accountants had begun to
impose as the industry chase higher profits (short-term strategies to increase “shareholder
value” being 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 lowest annual total to date.
The residual magic of the name must however have had tangible appeal because the "non-letter" Chrysler 300 Sports in the
four available body styles (2 door convertible, 2 & 4 door hardtop & 4
door sedan) sold 25,578, exceeding expectations. The accountants had been right, an ominous sign for the engineers.
1963 Chrysler 300J.
Presumably in an attempt to atone for past transgressions, a spirit
of rectilinearism washed through Chrysler’s design office while the 1963 range
was being prepared and, for better or worse, 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 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 ¼-mile (402 metres) 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 (built 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 B-52J 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 B-521. Although the avionics, digital displays and ability to carry the HACM (Hypersonic Attack Cruise Missile, 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 that 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) and 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 had once been the corporation's “halo” car triggered management to engage in what in US management jargon (by then a burgeoning lexicon) had come to be called an “agonizing reappraisal”. The conclusion drawn was from Economics 101 lectures: To stimulate demand, lower the basic entry price to essentially ownership of "the name" and if buyers really
wanted the fancy stuff once fitted as standard, they could order it from an
option list. That approach was becoming familiar and although it meant adding a layer of complexity to a process that decades earlier had begun as a "standardized unit" production line, it was manageable because of the use of main-frame computers that translated (1) the boxes (ticked in ink) on a dealer's order form, (2) via the fingers of a data-entry clerk (that profession an early victim of "office automation" that over the decades would evolve into AI (artificial intelligence)) onto, (3) a punch card, read by a machine that would send the structured data to (4) an impact (dot-matrix) printer that would generate, (5) a "build-sheet". It was on these build-sheets the options to be fitted were itemized and from this assembly-line workers configured each car as it moved along the production-line. While there was the odd glitch (database corruption, printer problems, human error etc), the system worked well and the specific configuration of almost all vehicles reflected what was on the build-sheet.
1964 Chrysler 300K.
The "squircle" (ie a circle with "squared-off" corners) shaped steering wheel had appeared on the 300J the previous season and the corporation had earlier used the idea in other divisions. While not welcomed with conspicuous enthusiasm, it wasn't greeted with the derision British Leyland would a decade later encounter when it included a "quartic" wheel in the early version of the Austin Allegro (1973-1982). On the Allegro, the quartic wheel was in 1974 replaced by a circular device and the 300K was the last appearance for the squircle. In the brave new world of option lists, leather
trim and many power accessories joined AC (air-conditioning) in being relegated to the "available at extra cost" list. So the system worked with muscular efficiency but that success ultimately was the cause of its demise. As well as generating individual build sheets, once aggregated, all this information formed what would now be called a "big data" set and that meant "data analysts" could be 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 AC. It was the beginning of the death knell of the long option list for mass-produced vehicles although in the twenty-first century the concept has re-appeared (writ large and very high priced) by the "special divisions" of outfits like Rolls-Royce, Ferrari, Porsche and such. Those who observe industry trends have noted buyers of such machines are to some extent "captives" of the option list because the resale value of their purchase does suffer unless it was ordered with an array of "extras", the price tag of which could extend into six (US$) figures. Capitalism can be criticized but it's certainly dynamic.
The
ancestor of the main-frame computer were the "computational machines" used during World War II (1939-1945) to calculate the trajectories or artillery shells. A generation on, progress in electronics meant buyers could "custom build" their 300K.
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. With the the de-contenting (the leather trim for example now a US$93 option), the price cut (down from the 300J's US$5,260 to US$4,056 for the coupe (the convertible was US$4,522), the market responded with text book case-study of price elasticity of demand and despite being some US$600 more than the 300 Sports with the same bodies, the 300K booked record sales, production spiking to 3647 (3,022 coupes & 625
convertibles). Interestingly, defying an industry-wide trend, 84 were fitted with the four-speed manual gearbox (50 hardtops & 34 convertibles). With the coming of 1964, the distinctive "push-button" controls for the TorqueFlite automatic transmission were retired, the 300K's shitter moving to the centre console while elsewhere in the corporation, steering column-mounted assemblies also began to appear. The selection order on automatic transmissions had been standardized (L-D-N-R-P) by federal regulation after some years of manufacturers using variant patterns but, despite the persistent myth, the push-buttons have never been outlawed although Chrysler may have sniffed the regulatory breeze and anticipated a ban, deciding to jump before being pushed. Chrysler's basic engineering remained sound (in some ways it was an industry leader) but stylistically, all the corporation's divisions in the era suffered because the lines lacked the flair offered by GM or the segment-defining innovations of Ford.
1964 Chrysler Silver 300 (a non-letter 300): The "
targa-look" without the targa. Not until 1966 would Porsche AG trademark "targa" bit there's nothing to suggest the Germans were influenced by the Silver 300.
It could be ordered for the 300 Sport and 300K two-door hardtops, a reputed
2,152 of the former and 255 of the latter attracting buyers. A mid-season promotion,
the Chrysler Silver 300 was a “bundle” including “special metallic silver
paint, vinyl canopy roof and custom interior with a reclining passenger seat”. So it was distinctive though hardly likely to
create anything like the impact of the C-300 in 1955 or the Sonoramic induction
system in 1959 but participating dealerships were provided with a “promotional
kit” including posters for showroom windows, postcards, floor-mat advertisements
and “display collateral” (“themed” material for the showroom floor). According to the corporation’s marketing
department, the Silver 300 would be “the biggest spring promotion in Chrysler
history” and while that may seem a lot of effort for what was a very modest “package”
for a model mid-way through its life, the industry has on many occasions re-cycled
the approach and it did make sense, buyers perhaps drawn by a “Silver 300K”
eventually driving off in a “Silver 300” that was US$600 cheaper and, to most,
indistinguishable from its more expensive stablemate. Some models of the 300 Sport also continued to use the dash-mounted,
push-button selectors for the transmission (a modernist look and undeniably a convenience liked by many) and, if so minded, even the performance of the 300K
could be matched because the standard 383 cubic inch (6.3 litre) V8 could be “optioned-up”
to the 413.
Promotional poster for 1964’s mid-year Silver 300 package.
In the US, car
advertising in the 1960s was a vibrant sector in graphic art and there were memorable
exponents, most notably the oeuvre Art Fitzpatrick (1919–2015) & Van
Kaufman (1918-1995) rendered in the 1960s for GM’s PMD (Pontiac Motor Division),
their simulacra tending to mannerism without quite becoming surrealist. Dimensionally, Chrysler’s agency eschewed
that approach and stuck to realism but the staging certainly was imaginative
although some of the “messaging” in the advertising for the Imperial line to
this day remains curious. For the Silver
300, the agency presumably had in mind a couple having dashed off up the stairs
to “enjoy themselves”, the young lady so anxious not to miss a moment she
kicked-off her stilettos, not even pausing to close the door. Modern interpretations are darker and include
“murder-suicide” (the female usually the victim) or the unfortunate driver
having fallen to his death after parking too close to the cliff’s edge. In this scenario, her imagined tale varies
but in all, she ends up dead, dashed on the rocks below.
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 corporation has moved the "performance orientated" models to the Plymouth and Dodge divisions while 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 an again perhaps surprising 97-odd 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 although no XLs were so-equipped after the 1969 season.
1970 Chrysler 300-Hurst.
There was an
unexpected semi-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 receiving one to display 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 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 described with publications variously using “300-H”,
“300 Hurst” and “Hurst 300” but the preferred use now seems to be “300-Hurst” 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” bodyshell introduced for the 1969 season) conceptually, the
300-Hurst was very much in the tradition of the later letter-series cars and featured the combination
of the more powerful of the two four-barrel versions of the 440 cubic inch (7.2 litre) V8 (rated at 375 HP in a dual-exhaust configuration), the TorqueFlite (727)
automatic transmission and an opulent leather-trimmed interior from the Imperial line. Although often listed as a footnote, purists decline to include the 300-Hurst in the letter-series lineage.
1970 Chrysler 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 freeways
rather than ¼ mile runs along a drag-strip, there were a few visual clues
borrowed from muscle car genre, each 300-Hurst equipped with a fibreglass hood including a 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 with 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; a 300-Hurst in an Arizona summer had to be parked with care.
1970 Chrysler 300-Hurst.
By 1970,
the 300-Hurst 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) V8, none were built while the 1969 Mercury Marauder X-100 (essentially
a cosmetic package) was automatic-only and lasted for only two seasons of dismally low sales. Chrysler’s Plymouth division still offered the 440 in the big Sport Fury and although in 1970 a pleasing 666 left the factory, only only 61 or 64 (the sources differ) lived up to the "number of the beast" tag by the buyer specifying "six barrel" option (with triple two barrel carburetors), rated at a healthy 390 HP. It’s worth remembering the C-300 & 300B of 1955-1956 were essentially the same size as the intermediates
of the mid-1960s that 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 as never before (and rarely since) from the outside “floated” down the freeways, consuming fossil fuel and expelling
pollutants in volumes that now would astonish most and appal Greta Thunberg (b
2003).
There was a one-off 300-Hurst convertible, used as a promotional vehicle for their famous shifters, often accompanied by Ms Linda Vaughn (b 1943) who stood on a platform mounted atop the rear deck, between giant models of shifters. Ms Vaughn was for more than two decades a welcome adornment to drag-strips, noted usually for noise and brutishness. In 1970, Chrysler
300s tagged for conversion to 300-Hurst specification came down the assembly line
in Detroit's Jefferson Avenue plant before being freighted to Hurst’s facility
in Warminster, Pennsylvania, there to undergo a process that differed from the original
plan: Instead of deeper oil pans, upgraded ignition systems and the Hurst
shifters with which the company had built its reputation, the cars received mostly cosmetic
enhancements although the suspension was stiffened. About the only variations in configuration
was some used a column-shift for the transmission and some a floor-shift 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 ¼-mile 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 first-year sales of 2000; the 1970 300-Hurst was living in a world that had passed it by.
The 300-Hurst 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 how long sometimes it 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 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 its availability isn’t known but it would be a big
number.
Ms Linda Vaughn on the move.
It’s said
one 300-Hurst was dealer-fitted with Chrysler's 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 six barrel version of the 440 because,
given the market segment at which the thing was aimed, AC was thought likely to be an often chosen option and the factory never offered
AC with either the Hemi or the triple carburetor 440, the systems of the
era not suited to the high-revving units.
It’s thus an orthodoxy in the collector community that “no cars with the 426 Hemi
or 6 bbl 440s 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 triple carburetor 440 and the boutique Swiss manufacturer Monteverdi
did include AC in the single mid-engined Hai (1970) fitted with a Hemi.
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