Flak

Flak (pronounced flak)

(1) Ground-based anti-aircraft fire using explosive shells.

(2) In casual use, criticism; hostile reaction; abuse.

1938: From the German Flak (anti-aircraft gun), condensed from Fliegerabwehrkanone (literally "air defense gun"), the acronym deconstructed from Fl(ieger) + a(bwehr) + k(anone).  The sense of "anti-aircraft fire" became generalized in English from 1940 and the flak jacket is attested from 1956.  The metaphoric sense of "criticism" is American English circa 1963.  The synonym (and military verbal shorthand) is ack-ack, which appears to have developed independently in the German and allied military, the former using (from 1939) acht-acht (eight-eight) as an informal reference to the 88mm canon, the later being World War I (1914-1918) signalers' phonetic spelling of "AA".  Jargon has its own life and even after the NATO Phonetic Alphabet was standardized in 1956, ack-ack was so distinctive and well-known there was no suggestion it should be replaced by alpha-alpha. 

Lindsay Lohan in flak jacket.

The homophone flack (public relations spokesman) was first noted in US use in 1945, initially as a noun but, almost immediately became also a verb and it’s always had the sense of handling adverse criticism; if necessary by lying ("taking the flak" as it were).  The origin is murky; there’s a suggestion it was coined at entertainment industry magazine Variety but the first attested use was in another publication.  Flack was said to have emerged because of a coincidence in existence between flak being used to describe criticism (analogous with anti-aircraft fire) and a certain Mr Flack, said to be a public relations spokesman in the movie business but, given the accepted etymology, most regards this as an industry myth.

The 88mm Flak Canon

Panzer VI (Tiger Tank 1) with 88mm canon, Sicily, 1943.

The German 88 mm anti-aircraft canon was developed during the 1930s and was one of the most versatile and widely used weapons of World War II (1939-1945), deployed as field artillery, in anti-aircraft batteries, in ground assault and anti-tank roles and, on the larger tanks, as canon.  The naval 88, although the same caliber, was an entirely different weapon, dating from 1905.

88mm Flak Gun, Russia, 1941.

However, its stellar reputation belied to some extent, latter-day battlefield reality.  Like much mass-produced German weaponry of World War II, the 88 lost some of its comparative advantage as the allies’ quantitative and (with a few notable exceptions, especially in jet and rocket propulsion) qualitative superiority in materiel became apparent.  As an anti-aircraft gun, the Flak 88 needed high muzzle velocity to reach the altitudes at which bombers flew (20,000+ feet (6000+m)) and to achieve that the projectile itself was relatively small.  The high velocity made the Flak 88 a formidable anti-tank weapon, but did limit its effectiveness as field artillery.  Right to the end however, it remained a potent force wherever the terrain was suitable.

Zoo Flak Tower, Berlin, 1945.

One place the Flak 88s weren’t used was on the three huge concrete structures in Berlin called the Flak Towers.  Because the newer British and US bombers flew at higher altitudes, the bigger 128 mm canon was required.

The best known of the structures was the Berlin Zoo Flak Tower (Flakturm Tiergarten), the construction of which was induced by the Royal Air Force’s (RAF) first bombing raids on the city in August 1940.  Even by the standards of the time, these attacks were small-scale and of no obvious military value but, like the raid on Tokyo staged by the US in 1942 and the seemingly quixotic cross-border incursions by forces of indeterminate origin probing Russia’s “special military operation”, they compelled a disproportionately large re-allocation of civilian and military resources.  Early in the war, Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945 and Reichsmarschall 1940-1945) in his capacity as head of the air force (Luftwaffe) had been asked if the industrial Ruhr was at risk of being bombed and he assured the nation: “No enemy bomber can reach the Ruhr… if one reaches the Ruhr, my name is not Göring. You can call me Meyer.”  The Reichsmarschall might have believed his own publicity but the RAF did not though few in 1940 thought the more distant Berlin was vulnerable and the first raids, pin-pricks though they were compared with what was to come, embarrassed the Nazi hierarchy and convinced Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) to fear that ominous mantra of the 1930s: “The bomber will always get through”.

Accordingly, needing to retain popular support and well aware of the capital’s lack of air-raid shelters (though the leading Nazis and their families were well provided for), the Führer ordered the construction of huge anti-aircraft gun towers, the designs submitted for his approval as early as the following March.  Construction began immediately and the first, the Berlin Zoo Flak Tower, was made operational within months and in its massiveness was entirely typical of the architectural practices of the Third Reich.  Reflecting Hitler’s preferences, it was rendered in a neo-Romantic style and any medieval soldier would have recognized it as a fortress, albeit one on a grand scale.  It gained its name by virtue of its proximity to the municipal zoo and the term “tower” was a rare instance of modesty of expression during the Nazi era.  The reinforced concrete structure was as tall as a 13-story building with a 70 x 70 m (230 x 230 feet) footprint and in addition to the flak guns on the roof, it housed an 85-bed hospital, extensive storage space for art works & cultural artifacts as well as the capacity to provide shelter for some 15,000 people (a number greatly exceeded later in the war when the raids became both frequent and severe.

The installed armament was a battery of four 128 mm (5 inch) twin Flak mounts, augmented by 20 mm (¾ inch) and 37-mm (1½ inch) guns on lower platforms, the sides of the tower 8 m (26 feet) thick, the roof 5 m (16 feet).  The versatility of the design was proven when in 1945 the city was under assault by the Red Army and the big guns were deployed at low angle, proving highly effective as tank destroyers and according to the estimates of both sides, delaying the entry of Soviet troops by almost two weeks.  Even then, after the city had been occupied and the surrender negotiated, the Germans remained in control of the tower, the thick walls having withstood all attacks.  After the war, it proved difficult to demolish and it was only in 1948, after several attempts and over 100 tons of explosives that finally it was razed, the land eventually returned to the Berlin Zoo.

Volkssturm

Volkssturm (pronounced folks-stuhm)

1944: A German compound, the construct being Volk +‎ -s- +‎ Sturm (a civilian militia (literally “people's storm”) formed during the last days of the Third Reich.  Volkssturm is a proper noun.

One member of the Volkssturm was the philosopher Martin Heidegger (1889-1976), noted for his seminal work in phenomenology & existentialism, a flirtation with the Nazis which he spent the rest of his life rationalizing and an affair with the Jewish political theorist Hannah Arendt (1906–1975).  He was drafted into the Volkssturm in 1944 and apparently dug anti-tank ditches.  Although some sources claim a youthful Pope Benedict XVI (Joseph Ratzinger, b 1927; pope 2005-2013, pope emeritus since) was a member of the Volkssturm, he was actually drafted as a Flakhelfer (an auxiliary attached to an anti-aircraft (flak) unit).  According to the Pope Emeritus, he was never part of shooting at anything.

Volk was from the Middle High German volc, from the Old High German folc, from the Proto-West Germanic folk, from the Proto-Germanic fulką.  It was cognate with the Dutch volk, the English folk, the Swedish folk, the Norwegian Bokmål folk, the Norwegian Bokmål folk, the Icelandic fólk and the Danish folk.  Volk is famously associated with its best understood meaning (people of a certain race united by culture, history, descent & language) with the phrase used by Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; German head of government 1933-1945 and head of state 1934-1945) to describe the “Führer state”: Ein Volk, Ein Reich, Ein Führer! (One People, One Realm, One Leader!).  Whatever the inconsistencies in the reality of the Nazi state, the phrase is an accurate description of the Nazi vision of how the German nation should be understood.  Historically, Volk was also used in the sense of (1) “the common people, the lower classes, the working classes” (now largely archaic), (2) “a large gathering of people (a crowd) in any context” & (3) in zoology (especially entomology) to refer to a herd, covey, swarm, colony etc”.

Sturm was from the Middle High German and Old High German sturm (storm), the retention of the u vowel being irregular; it was lowered to o because of a mutation in all other West Germanic languages (and the Old Norse), despite German being the one Germanic language where a-mutation most consistently occurred, especially of u to o.  A Sturm was a “strong, blustery wind; gust; gale; squall; a storm or tempest” and in Prussia the imagery appealed to the military which applied it to mean a sudden, rushed attack and in the Imperial Army created relatively small units called Sturmtruppen (storm troopers).  As a technique, the precise infiltration tactics of the Sturmtruppen weren’t a German invention and had probably been part of organized military operations as long as warfare has been practiced but the development of rapid-fire weapons had limited the effectiveness of the use of massed formations and during the nineteenth century, the concept of the surgical strike became popular and nowhere was it more fully developed than in the Prussian army manual.  The best known example of the used of the word in this context was the notorious Sturmabteilung (the SA, literally "Storm Detachment"), the original paramilitary wing of the Nazi Party which was a vital component of the structure until power was gained in 1933, after which, having outlived its usefulness to the point where (a as formation with a membership of millions many discontented with the results of the party had offered them once in power) the Nazi hierarchy (and the army) came to regard them as a (at least potential) threat and a bloody purge (Nacht der langen Messer (Night of the Long Knives), also called Unternehmen Kolbri (Operation Hummingbird)) was executed.

Austrian Sturm.

In Austrian viniculture, Sturm is a beverage made from white or red grapes that has begun to ferment but that has not yet turned into wine.  It’s not obviously appealing to look at and is most popular between late September & early October, served usually poured in a pint glass or large tumbler and resembles a hazy, unfiltered beer.  Sturm is unusual in that it’s a partially completed product, being still fermenting and that said to be a large part of the appeal and there’s much variation, some made with red grapes (though most are from white) and they tend from the sweet to the very sweet, all sharing a fresh, juicy, slightly fizzy quality.  Definitely not produced for cork dorks, Sturm is meant to be guzzled.  As a point of note for English speakers, when the word Sturm is used in the original (meteorological) context, the word has no association with rainfall; a Sturm may be accompanied by rain but it refers only to strong winds.

Lindsay Lohan at the Weisses Fest (White Festival), Linz, Austria, July 2014.

The Volkssturm was a civilian militia created by the Nazi Party after Dr Joseph Goebbels (1897–1945; Nazi propaganda minister 1933-1945) was appointed Reichsbevollmächtigter für den totalen Kriegseinsatz (Reich Plenipotentiary for the Total War Effort) in the wake of the attempted assassination of Hitler in July 1944.  The attempt clearly focused the Führer’s mind on the dire situation confronting Germany or, as Goebbels noted in his diary: “It takes a bomb under his ass to make Hitler see sense”.  By then however it was already too late.  Had the Germany economy been moved to a total war footing during 1941 it might have altered the course (though probably not the outcome) of the war but, paradoxically, the authoritarian Nazi state lacked the structure to impose the controls the democracies were able quickly to implement early in the conflict.

Hitler Youth members with Panzerfausts.

Germany’s military was by 1944 in retreat on three fronts (the position worse still considering the loss of superiority in the air and the state of the war at sea) and armament production, although it would peak that year, was not sufficient even to cover losses.  The same was true of the manpower required to replace battlefield causalities and for this reason, the decision was taken to created the Volkssturm by conscripting males aged between 16-60 who had not yet been absorbed by the military unit.  Initially, the Volkssturm members continued in their usual occupations, drilling in the evenings or on (their now rare) days off or constructing obstacles such as tank ditches or barricades.  Poorly equipped and lacking adequate weapons or even uniforms, the Volkssturm, when finally committed in combat in the battle for Berlin in 1945 were militarily ineffective (their greatest successes coming in the number of Soviet tanks destroyed with the remarkably effective Panzerfaust (tank fist) although with these bazooka-like devices the Hitlerjugend (Hitler Youth) formations proved even more effective) and suffered a high rate of causalities, just as predicted by the Army commanders which opposed their deployment, correctly fearing they would only obstruct movement. 

Volkssturm members with Panzerfausts. 

The Volkssturm truly was scraping the bottom of the manpower barrel but, in terms of the only strategic option left open to the regime, by 1945 it did make sense in that its deployment might delay the advance of the allied armies and it was Hitler’s last hope that that if defeat could be staved off, the differences the Western powers and the Soviet Union might see their alliance sundered, one bizarre thought being that the UK and US might realize their true enemy was the USSR and they might join with Germany in vanquishing the "Bolshevik menace".  The Führerbunker must have been a strange place to be in the last days although few actually shared Hitler’s more outlandish hopes and it’s not clear exactly when Hitler too finally realized his luck had run out but almost to the end, however many of the Volkssturm could be cajoled or threatened to assemble, were sent into battle.  As well as the support of Goebbels, the platoons of the old and sick were championed by Martin Bormann (1900–1945; leading Nazi functionary and ultimately Secretary to the Führer 1943-1945), one of the breed of blood-thirsty non-combatants which right-wing politics to this day seems to attract.  Hitler would well have understood service in the Volkssturm was a death sentence for those not able to sneak away (which many did).  In 1937 in an address to the Kreisleiters (district leaders) in Vogelsang Castle, he described such civilian militias as a “totally worthless crowd” because “drumming up enthusiasm” could never produce soldiers.  Mr Putin may be reaching the same conclusion.

While videos and photographs circulating on the internet suggest the Russian military machine is not now what it once was (and by most until a few months ago presumed still to be), the Kremlin’s problem is not the dire shortage of men available for military mobilization but their collective unwillingness to join the battle.  It’s unlikely the photographs in circulation showing some rather grey and elderly recruits are representative of the mobilization; like every military, the Russian databases will have a few incorrect records but all the indications are that there are shortfalls in the equipment able to be supplied to the troops thus far available for immediate deployment, let alone those undergoing training.  Certainly, the Kremlin’s claim (apparently verified as official) that the September 2022 mobilization would yield some 300,000 troops (there was no comment on how many would be combat-ready) or about 15 divisions (in historic terms) seems unlikely to be realized.  Even had the numbers become available, the course of the special military action (war) thus far suggests even the available Russian forces so reinforced would not been sufficient to conquer, let alone occupy Ukraine but expectations may have been lowered (adjusted in political-speak) to the point where a serviceable and defensible land-bridge to the Crimea would suffice for victory to be declared.  However, that would likely merely re-define rather than resolve the Kremlin’s problems.  It appears too that the Kremlin’s problems pre-date the special military action (war), the aim in autumn of 2021 to recruit 100,000 volunteers to the Russian Combat Army Reserve falling well short, as did subsequent attempts, the most recent initiated in June 2022.  The compulsory mobilization is a tacit admission the formation of “volunteer battalions” has not been successful.  Still, it’s unlikely the Kremlin will resort to creating its own Volkssturm to try to plug the gaps.

Practical advice to newly mobilized Russian troops.  

Carpet

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Tiger

Tiger (pronounced tahy-ger)

(1) A large, carnivorous, tawny-colored and black-striped feline, Panthera tigris, of Asia, ranging in several subspecies from India and the Malay Peninsula to Siberia.

(2) In non-technical use, the cougar, jaguar, thylacine, or other animal resembling the tiger (in wide use in southern Africa of leopards).

(3) A person of some fierceness, noted for courage or a ferocious, bloodthirsty and audacious person.

(4) In heraldry, a representation of a large mythological cat, used on a coat of arms, often with the spelling tyger or tygre (to distinguish the mythological beast from the natural tiger (also blazoned Bengal tiger), also used in heraldry).

(5) A pneumatic box or pan used in refining sugar.

(6) Any of several strong, voracious fishes, as a sand shark.

(7) Any of numerous animals with stripes similar to a tiger's.

(8) A servant in livery who rides with his master or mistress, especially a page or groom (archaic).

(9) In entomology & historic aviation, a clipping of tiger moth (in the family Arctiidae), tiger beetle or tiger butterfly (in tribe Danaini, especially subtribe Danaina).

(10) Any of the three Australian species of black-and-yellow striped dragonflies of the genus Ictinogomphus.

(11) In US, slang, someone noted for their athleticism or endurance during sexual intercourse.

(12) In southern African slang, a ten-rand note.

(13) As TIGR (pronounced as for “tiger”), the abbreviation for Treasury Investment Growth Receipts: a bond denominated in dollars and linked to US treasury bonds, the yield on which is taxed in the UK as income when it is cashed or redeemed.

Pre 1000: From the Middle English tygre & tigre, from the Old English tīgras (plural) and the Anglo-Norman tigre (plural), from the Latin tīgris, from the Ancient Greek τίγρις (tígris), from an Iranian source akin to the Old Persian tigra- (sharp, pointed) and related to the Avestan tighri & tigri (arrow) and tiγra (pointed), the reference being to the big cats “springing” on to their prey but the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) notes no application of either word (or any derivative) to the tiger is known in Zend.  It was used of “tiger-like” people since the early sixteenth century and that could be complementary or pejorative although the female form (tigress) seems only to have been used in zoology since the 1610s and was never applied to women.  The tiger's-eye (yellowish-brown quartz) was first documented in 1886.  The word “liger”, like the creature it described, was a forced mating of lion and tiger.  As a modifier, tiger is widely used including the forms: American tiger, Amur tiger, Asian Tiger, Mexican tiger, Siberian tiger, tiger barb, tiger beetle, tiger bench, tiger-lily, tiger lily, tiger's eye, tiger shark & tiger's milk.  A female tiger is a tigeress.  The alternative spellings tigre & tyger are both obsolete.  Tiger & tigerishness are nouns, tigerly, tigerish & tigerlike are adjectives and tigerishly is an adverb; the noun plural is tigers.

Lindsay Lohan (b 1986) atop tiger in Kult Magazine (Italy), January 2012, photograph by Vijat Mohindra (b 1985), makeup by Joyce Bonelli (b 1981).

In idiomatic use, a country said to have a “tiger economy” (rapid and sustained economic growth), especially if disproportionate to population or other conventional measures.  “Tiger parent” (and especially “tiger mother”) refers to a strict parenting style demanding academic excellence and obedience from children; it’s associated especially with East Asian societies.  The “tiger cheer” dates from 1845 and originated in Princeton University, based on the institution’s mascot and involved the cheerleaders calling out "Tiger" at the end of a cheer accompanied by a jump or outstretched arms.  Beyond Princeton, a “tiger cheer” is any “shriek or howl at the end of a cheer”.  The phrase "paper tiger" was apparently first used by comrade Chairman Mao Zedong (1893–1976; chairman of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) 1949-1976) when discussing his thoughts about the imperialist powers.  A calque of the Chinese 紙老虎／纸老虎 (zhǐlǎohǔ), it referred to an ostensibly fierce or powerful person, country or organisation without the ability to back up their words; imposing but ineffectual.  Phrases in the same vein include "sheep in wolf's clothing" and "a bark worse than their bite".  To be said to “have a tiger by the tail” suggests one has found one’s self in a situation (1) that has turned out to be much more difficult to control than one had expected and (2) difficult to extricate one’s self from, the idea being that while holding the tiger’s tail, things are not good but if one lets go, things will likely become much worse.

Lana Del Rey with (edited-in) tigers, Born to Die, 2012.

Released in 2012, Born to Die was the title track of Lana Del Rey’s (stage name of Elizabeth Woolridge Grant, b 1985) second studio album.  The music video, recorded at the Palace of Fontainebleau (a former royal château of the French court), was directed by Yoann Lemoine (b 1983) who placed the singer between two tigers.  That effect was however a trick of the editing, the big cats filmed separately, which seems a sensible precaution.  Lying some 55 km (34 miles) south-east of central Paris, the Château de Fontainebleau is among the largest of the French royal châteaux and was for centuries both an occasional residence and hunting lodge for monarchs, the name from Fontaine Belle-Eau (spring of beautiful water), a natural fresh water spring located in the English garden not far from the château.  The interior of the palace is in some places referred to as “Rococo” but while some rooms were in the eighteenth century re-decorated with distinct Rococo touches, the distinctive style dates from the late French Renaissance and such was the thematic consistency it created what come to be known throughout Europe as “the School of Fontainebleau” which historians of architecture list as running from the mid sixteenth century to the early seventeenth, the motifs influencing more than one strain of Mannerism.  For students, the place is rich source of examples of movements from the Renaissance, through early and high French Baroque to the First Empire.  It was designated a national museum in 1927 and in 1981 was listed by UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Men in frock coats:  The “Big Four” at the Paris Peace Conference (1919-1920), outside the Foreign Ministry headquarters, Quai d'Orsay, Paris.

Left to right: David Lloyd George (1863–1945; UK prime-minister 1916-1922), Vittorio Orlando (1860–1952; Italian prime minister 1917-1919), Georges Clemenceau (1841–1929; French prime minister 1906-1909 & 1917-1920) and Woodrow Wilson (1856–1924; US president 1913-1921).

Georges Clemenceau (1841–1929; Prime Minister of France 1906-1909 & 1917-1920) was a physician who turned to politics via journalism, a not unfamiliar trajectory for many; at a time of national crisis, he undertook his second term as premier, providing the country’s politics with the stiffness needed to endure what was by then World War I (1914-1918); he was nick-named le tigre (the tiger) in honor of his ferociously combative political demeanour.  In February 1919, while travelling from his apartment a meeting associated with the Paris Peace Conference (1919-1920), he was shot several times, his assailant an anarchist carpenter & joiner, Émile Cottin (1896-1937) and two decades on, another leader would learn carpenters can aspire to be assassins.  Le tigre was lucky, the bullets missing his vital organs although one which passed through the ribcage ending up lodged close to his heart; too close to that vital organ to risk surgery, there it remained until his death (from unrelated causes) ten years later.  Cottin’s death sentence was later commuted to a ten year sentence and he would die in battle, serving with the anarchist Durruti Column during the early days of the Spanish Civil War.  The Tiger’s response to his survival was to observe: “We have just won the most terrible war in history, yet here is a Frenchman who misses his target six out of seven times at point-blank range.  Of course this fellow must be punished for the careless use of a dangerous weapon and for poor marksmanship. I suggest that he be locked up for eight years, with intensive training in a shooting gallery.”  In the circumstances, deploring the state of French marksmanship displayed a certain sangfroid.

The Sunbeam and other Tigers

Sunbeam Tiger, LSR run, Southport Beach, March 1926.

There have been three Sunbeam Tigers, the first illustrious, the second fondly remembered and the last so anti-climatic it’s all but forgotten.  The first was a dedicated racing car, built between 1923-1925 and, those being times when there was less specialization, it was used both in circuit racing and, most famously, in setting the world Land Speed Record (LSR).  Although aerodynamic by the standards of the time (the techniques of streamlining learned in World War I (1914-1918) military aviation applied), there was little innovation in the platform except for the engine, the nature of which ensured the Tiger’s place in history.  For grand prix events conducted for cars with a maximum displacement of 2.0 litres (122 cubic inches), Sunbeam had earlier built a two litre straight-six, the limitations imposed by the relatively small size being offset by the use of the then still novel double overhead camshafts (DOHC) which allowed both more efficient combustion chambers and much higher engine speeds, thereby increasing power.  It was a robust, reliable power-plant and when contemplating an attempt on the LSR, instead of developing anything new or using the then popular expedient of installing a big & powerful but heavy and low-revving aero engine, the engineers paired two of the blocks and heads on a single crankcase, creating a 75° 3,976 cm³ (243 cubic inch) V12.  When supercharged, power outputs as high as 312 hp (233 kW) were registered.

Sunbeam Tiger in 1990.

Deteriorating weather conditions meant there wasn’t time even to paint the bodywork before the Tiger was rushed to the banked circuit at Brooklands for testing in September 1925 where performance exceeded expectations.  Over the winter, further refinements were made including a coat of most un-British bright red paint and it was in this color (and thus nick-named “Ladybird”) it was in March 1926 taken to the flat, hard sands of Southport Beach where duly it raised the LSR mark to 152.33 mph (245.15 km/h).  That was broken within a year but the Tiger still holds the record as the smallest displacement ICE (internal combustion engine) ever to hold the LSR and a century on, it’s a distinction likely to be retained forever.  After the run on the beach, it returned to the circuits.  A sister car was built and named Tigress; fitted with one of the big Napier Lion W12 aero engines, it still competes in historic competition but the Tiger is now a museum piece although, after 65 years, it did have a final fling when in 1990 it made one last run and this time set a mark of 159 mph (256 km/h).

Sunbeam Alpine (1959-1968) with the original tail fins: 1961 (left) and 1963 (right).  When in late 1958 the design was approved by the Rootes board, tail fins were thought still fashionable but the moment soon passed and with the release of the Series IV in 1964, they were pruned.

Although successful in competition and the manufacturer of some much admired road cars, financial stability for Sunbeam was marginal for most of the 1920s and the Great Depression of the early 1930s proved its nemesis, the bankrupt company in 1934 purchased by the Rootes Group which was attracted by Sunbeam’s production facilities and their well-regarded line of HD (heavy duty) chassis for bus & truck operators.  Rootes over the years used the Sunbeam name in a desultory way, the vehicles little more than “badge engineered” versions of their Hillman, Singer, Humber & Talbot lines but one aberration was the Sunbeam Alpine, a small sports car (1959-1968).  Rootes had used the Alpine name before, adopted to take advantage of the success enjoyed in the 1953 Alpine Rally but the new roadster was very different.  Although the platform was taken (unpromisingly) from a small van (noted for its robustness and reliability but little else) with the rest of the structure a mash up of components from the Rootes parts bin, as a package it worked very well and the body was modern and attractive, owing more to small Italian sports cars than the often rather agricultural British competition from MG and Triumph.  The rakish fins drew the eye (not always uncritically) but they were very much of their time, taller even than those on the Daimler SP250 released the same year.  The Alpine was also pleasingly civilized with a heater which actually worked, a soft-top which didn’t leak (at least not as often or to the same extent as some others), external door handles and wind-up windows, none of those attributes guaranteed to exist on most of the local competition.  It was also commendably quiet, conversations possible and the radio able to be listened to even at cruising speed, then something then novel in little British roadsters.

1966 Sunbeam Tiger Mark IA.

With an engine capacity initially of 1.5 litres (91 cubic inch), the Alpine was never fast although that was hardly the point and the advertising included some campaigns aimed at what was then known as the “ladies market”; that market still exists but the industry now dare not speak its name.  Product development included larger engines would improve things but the performance deficit was better addressed when, in 1964, a version of the Alpine called the Tiger appeared, fitted with Ford’s recently released 260 cubic inch (4.2 litre) “thinwall” V8 (the so-called “Windsor” in honor the foundry in Ontario where the things were cast and assembled), about to become well known from its use in both the Ford Mustang and Carroll Shelby's (1923–2012) Cobra, the latter based on a much-modified AC Ace.  The Windsor was called a “thinwall” because genuinely it was small and light (by the standards of contemporary iron-block V8s) but even so it only just fitted (once come frankly brutish modifications to the engine bay were effected with hammers) and so tight was the fit a small hatch was installed in the firewall (under the dashboard) so a hand could reach in to change one otherwise inaccessible spark plug.  That notwithstanding, the package worked and all those who wrote test reports seemed to enjoy the Tiger, noting the effortless performance, fine brakes (lifted unchanged from the Alpine!) and (within limits) predictable handling, all in something conveniently sized.  However, even in those more tolerant times, more than one journalist observed that although the Ford V8 used was in the mildest state of tune Ford offered (the ones Shelby put in the Cobra producing over 100-odd HP (75 kW) more), it was clear the classis was close to the limit of what could be (even in the more forgiving 1960s) deemed sensible for road use.

Pleasingly, in the mid 1960s, there was in the US quite an appetite for cars not wholly sensible for street use and late in 1966, a revised version was released, this time with a 289 cubic inch (4.7 litre) Windsor V8 and although there had been some attention to the underpinnings, it was now obvious that while still in the placid state Ford used in station wagons and such, the 289's increased output exceeded the capability of the chassis.  For the journalists of course, that was highly entertaining and some were prepared to forgive, one cautioning only that the Tiger:

“…doesn’t take kindly to being flung around.  It’s a car with dignity as asks to be driven that way.  That doesn’t mean slowly, necessarily, but that there’s sufficient power on tap to embarrass the incautious.  But if you treat it right, respecting it for what it is, the Tiger can offer driving pleasure of a very high order.”

In the era, there were other over-powered machines which could behave worse and those able to read between the lines would know what they were getting but there may have been some who were surprised and tellingly, the Tigers were never advertised to the “ladies market” although one was in 1965 presented as the traditional "pink prize" to Playboy’s PotY (Playmate of the Year).  Presumably she enjoyed it and, now painted "resale" red, the car still exists.

Jo Collins (b 1945), 1965 PotY with her 1965 Sunbeam Tiger Mark I.  All Tigers received the pruned fins (introduced on the Series IV Alpines), the once raked elliptical taillights assuming a vertical aspect.

The US was a receptive market for the little hot rod and one featured in the Get Smart TV series, although it’s said for technical reasons (the V8 version not having space in the engine compartment for some of the props), a re-badged Alpine was used for some scenes (the same swap effected for the 2008 feature film adaptation), a V8 exhaust burble dubbed where appropriate, a trick not uncommon in film-making.  At the corporate level of M&A (mergers & acquisitions), changes were however were coming which would doom the Tiger although it was an unintended victim.  Seeking a greater presence in Europe as well as a ranger of smaller vehicles to offer in the US, Chrysler had first taken a stake in the Rootes Group in 1964 and in 1967 it assumed full control.  Chrysler was most interested in the mainstream sedans but although the Tiger was a low-volume line, it was profitable and the corporation’s original intention had been to continue production but with Chrysler’s 273 cubic inch (4.4 litre) LA V8 substituted.  Unfortunately, while 4.7 Ford litres filled it to the brim, 4.4 Chrysler litres overflowed; the Windsor truly was compact.  Allowing it to remain in production until the stock of already purchased Ford engines had been exhausted, Chrysler instead changed the advertising from emphasizing the “…mighty Ford V8 power plant” to the vaguely ambiguous “…an American V-8 power train”.  Still a popular car in the collector community, so easily modified are the V8s that few survive in their original form and many have been fitted with larger Windsors, the 289 and 302 (4.9 litre) the most popular and some have persuaded even the tall-deck 351 (5.8) to fit though not without modifications.

Sunbeam Tigers: 1965 model with “Powered by Ford 260” badge (left), 1967 model with “Sunbeam V8” badge (centre) and 1965 French market model with “Alpine 260” badge (right).

It wasn’t unknown for the major US manufacturers to use components from competitors, something which happened usually either because of a technology deficit or to do with licencing.  However, they much preferred it if what was used was hidden from view (like a transmission) so Chrysler’s reticence about advertising what had become one of their cars being fitted with Ford V8 was understandable.  Not only was the advertising material swiftly changed but so were the badges: “Powered by Ford 260” giving way to “Sunbeam V8” for the rest of the Tiger’s life.  Unrelated to that however was the curious case of Tigers sold in South Africa and some European markets where they were designated variously as “Alpine 260” or “Alpine V8”.

On the silver screen.

Sunbeam Alpine 260 opposite Simca Aronde and behind Renault 16 in the Italian film Come rubare la corona d'Inghilterra (1967) by Sergio Grieco (1917–1982).  The title translates literally as “How to Steal the Crown of England” but in the English-speaking world it’s better known as Argoman the Fantastic Superman.  The film garnered mixed reviews.

The reason the “Tiger” name never made it to the largest European markets was because Panhard in France was then selling a Tigre and Messerschmitt in the FRG (Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany; the old West Germany) 1949-1990), held the trademark to Tiger.  The German Tiger can be visualized as something like the cockpit of a World War II (1939-1945) era Messerschmitt Bf-109 fighter aircraft fitted with four wheels and a 500 cm³ engine; it was as entertaining as it sounds.  Apparently on advice from Rootes’ French distributers (Société des Automobiles Simca), it was decided just to use the Alpine name and the car thus was advertised in France, Germany Austria & Switzerland variously as the “Alpine 260” or “Alpine V8”, the latter making marketing sense in countries not used to cubic inches as a measure although the imperial measure may have been used to emphasize the US connection, Detroit's V8s deservedly enjoying a reputation for smoothness, power and reliability.

What lay beneath: Body tags for US market Tiger (left) and French market Alpine 260 (centre & right).  Whether the 4.2 V8-powered cars had “Alpine” or “Tiger” badges, all were designated on the body tags as “Alpine 260 V8”.

However, in places such as Sweden and Monaco where there was no concern with violating trademark law, the “Tiger” name was used, as it was for vehicles ordered by US citizens for delivery in Europe.  Typically these were armed forces personnel able to buy through the military’s PX (Post Exchange) stores and they enjoyed the benefit at the end of their deployment of having their car shipped home to the US at no cost.  Volumes into Europe were always low and the sketchy records (assembled by Tiger owners clubs) suggest as few as seven Mark II models were exported to Europe, three of which went to France and by then the operation known as "Rootes Motors Overseas Ltd" had for all purposes switched their advertising to “Sunbeam Alpine V8”.

On the silver screen, with rear projection.

Cary Grant (1904–1986, left) with (pre-princess) Grace Kelly (1929–1982; Princess Consort of Monaco 1956-1982, right) behind the wheel of 1953 Mark I Sunbeam Alpine (in Sapphire Blue) in To Catch a Thief (1955).

In 1955, Sunbeam did release an Alpine Mark III but there was never a Mark II, “skipping numbers” something not uncommon in aircraft and software but rare in automobiles.  For students of technology, the long scene of Grace Kelly driving in To Catch a Thief (appearing mostly to be filmed through the windscreen) is an example of the RPT (rear projection technique) used before CGI (computer-generated imagery) technology existed.  While much of the film was shot on-location in Europe, the Alpine was shipped to the US for some of her driving scenes because only in Hollywood were the big studios outfitted with the rear-projection equipment able to emulate 360^o settings.  RPT obviously created new possibilities for cinematographers but for directors there was the advantage of the driver not being compelled to “keep their eyes on the road”, however bad an example this may have set for impressionable audiences.  In the age of CGI, the RPT looks obviously fake but it was at the time state-of-the-art and a companion piece to the vivid “Technicolor look” of the era.

Grace Kelly and Cary Grant filmed with RPT in To Catch a Thief.  In 1982, driving her Rover P6 (1963-1977) 3500 (1968-1977), she would die in an accident on a similar road.

When first pondering the name to be used in Europe, within Rootes there may anyway have been awareness of the French manufacturer Peugeot in 1964 forcing Porsche to rename its new 901 & 902 to 911 & 912 on the basis of the argument they had the “exclusive right in France” to sell cars with a three numeral designation if the middle digit was a “0” (zero).  For Porsche, the 911 designation has endured to this day as its signature model so although all’s well that ends well, the legal basis of Peugeot’s claim does seem dubious.  Mercedes-Benz had for years there been selling 200s & 300s (and had announced the 600) while neither BMW or Bristol had renamed their various 401s, 503s for the French market which would seem to imply either (1) there was something special about 901 & 902, (2) French law or its interpretation recently had changed or (3) Peugeot’s enforcement of its alleged rights was selective and aimed at Porsche.  Whether what Peugeot asserted really was at the time the state of French law is, 60-odd years on, difficult to determine from afar but the EEC (the European Economic Community, the Zollverein which would evolve into the EU (European Union)) wasn’t at the time governed by the “give way to the Germans” rule which would come to characterize the EU so defer Porsche did.

An original 60 MHz Pentium CPU; a 66 MHz version was also in the initial release.

The proliferation of the multiple use of the same numeric string as product names in various categories (cars, toasters, washing machines, computers etc) has long been common and in the West, as a general principle, numbers are “public domain” and not protectable.  In the US, when in 1993 replacing the i486, Intel named its new range of x86 CPU chips “Pentium” because others (including AMD & Cyrix) had brought out their own “386”, “586” etc.  Intel had tried to trademark 586, 686 etc but it was held numbers alone lacked “trademark distinctiveness” (there are limited exceptions) and that to afford such protection would be an “excessive restraint on trade” because it would mean, if rigidly enforced, there could be only 1000 products so named (assuming someone wanted to sell a “000”).  Intel had switched its naming from “80486” to “i486” but that didn't solve the problem which was others engaging in something between "piggyback marketing" and “usurpation”, achieved by appending letters (such as AMD’s Am486).  The Pentium name solved that problem but in 1995 the CPU become the subject of a controversy which became known as the FDIV (floating-point divide instruction) bug which afflicted the chip's in-built FPU (floating-point unit), causing incorrect results for certain complex divisions.  Math co-processers (originally separate chips) had previously been the source of difficulties for Intel but the significance of the Pentium's FDIV bug was that, like the Watergate scandal (1972-1974), it was not the event which was the controversy but the attempted cover-up.  Intel's handling of the FDIV bug is a case study in bad crisis management.

The former Peugeot headquarters building on the Avenue de la Grande Armée near the Arc de Triomphe, Paris, France, 1966.   The original concrete shell was preserved when the building was transformed into the Grande Armée L1ve office building.

Presumably, Porsche’s lawyers regarded Peugeot's C&D (cease and desist letter) with some scepticism but it became part of the 911 legend that the Germans applied the “precautionary principle” and changed the name.  However, in 2022, the French publication Car Jager attributed the switch of 1963-1964 to the history of the Nazi occupation of France during World War II (1939-1945), sensitive events then still in recent, living memory.  Like most French industry, Peugeot came under German control in June 1940 with the plant re-purposed to provide trucks, cars and parts for the occupying power and of great interest to Herr Professor Ferdinand Porsche (1875–1951) and his son-in-law Anton Piëch (1894–1952) was Peugeot’s modern and efficient foundry, something lacked by the facility built to produce the what in the post-war years become famous as the Volkswagen Beetle (Type 1).

Three receptionists in the old Peugeot headquarters.  The desks, fashioned in a "free-flowing", single piece of mirror-polished stainless steel were designed by Dutch architect Ben Swildens (1938–2023) and when in use, the young ladies were provided with a cushion.

The name of the location where the factory sat in Germany's Lower Saxony region became well-known in the 1950s when Beetles spread around the world but the name Wolfsburg wasn't gazetted until May 1945 while the area was under occupation by the US Army, the name a reference to the nearly eponymous castle, the first known mention of which dates from 1302 in a document mentioning the structure as the seat of the noble lineage of Bartensleben.  The city had been founded by the Nazis on 1 July 1938 as the Stadt des KdF-Wagens bei Fallersleben (City of the Strength Through Joy car at Fallersleben), an example of a "company town" which, centred around the village of Fallersleben, included not only the industrial plant by also housing for workers and the associated service and recreational facilities.  As things were then done, the SS (ᛋᛋ in Armanen runes; the Schutzstaffel 1923-1945 (literally “protection squadron”) but translated variously as “protection squad”, “security section" etc) in 1942 established the nearby Arbeitsdorf concentration camp as a source of cheap (and expendable) labour but the experiment proved industrially inefficient and it was shut down after a few months.

Wartime Kübelwagen.

Originally, Berlin had allocated Peugeot to another German company but through a series of machinations and back-channel deals which were typical of the way things were done in the Third Reich (1933-1945) Porsche and Piëch had by February 1943 gained control with the plants “temporarily” (a term which under Hitler meant anything from “today” to “forever”) placed under the professor’s direct supervision, a decision confirmed in November that year.  Under Professor Porsche, Peugeot manufactured components for the Kübelwagen (literally “bucket-seat car”, a light, jeep-like, four-wheel-drive vehicle for the Wehrmacht (the German military, 1935-1945) based on the KdF-Wagens produced in KdF-Stadt) and some Focke-Wulf aircraft also manufactured in Lower Saxony.  In the usual manner, the workforce came from a variety of sources.  However, in July, 1943, the RAF’s (Royal Air Force) bomber command attacked the factory in a raid which not only did much damage but also killed some 125 and injured twice that many.  Greatly that changed the attitude of the French management and workers and as production resumed, sabotage and informal “go-slow” campaigns became endemic and within months output had been significantly reduced.  This, coupled by the obvious threat posed by the Allied D-Day landings (6 June, 1944) compelled Berlin to order the factory’s remaining plant & equipment be shipped to the Reich and in trains and trucks, some 85 tons of machine tools, presses and such were stripped and re-installed in the facilities in Lower Saxony.  Given the history, those in the Peugeot company had a particular distaste for the Porsche name and retribution came swiftly, almost as soon as hostilities had ended, the French authorities locking up Professor Porsche for some two years after in 1945 enticing him to visit the French zone of occupation in Germany by claiming a new model car was being demonstrated.

Porsche 901, 1963.

In 1963, when the new Porsche 901 was announced, Jean-Pierre Peugeot (1896-1966), who had managed the factory during the war, was still at the helm and his memory of the of the occupation was still vivid and although the various 404s, 503s and such by BMW, Bristol had for years appeared in French showrooms, he decided Porsche wouldn’t be afforded the same “right to share” such numbers and ordered a C&D be sent.  Had Porsche contested the claim it may well have succeeded but the Germans had no wish for attention to be drawn to the founder’s wartime conduct and almost immediately acceded, meaning the survivors of the few dozen 901s produced in September-October 1964 are among the rarest of the breed and the survivors are much prized although the “901” designation did survive in the stampings for various part numbers and the aluminium-case five-speed transmission used in early 911s has always been known as the “901 five speed”.  Nevertheless, the factory remained caution and when sold for use on the road, the 904 was sold as the Carrera GTS and the 906 as the Carrera 6.

Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945, right), Professor Porsche (centre) and Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945, left), inspecting a Panzerjäger Tiger (Ferdinand, a a heavy tank hunter which used the chassis of the Panzerkampfwagen VI Tiger), Rügenwalde (Darłowo in modern-day Poland), March, 1943.

Herr Professor Porsche's best known contribution to the Nazi war machine was the Tiger tank which existed in two series (Panzerkampfwagen Tiger Ausf. E (Tiger, 1942-1944) and Panzerkampfwagen Tiger Ausf. B (Tiger II, 1943-1945).  Both were heavy tanks, the original retrospectively designated “Tiger I” when the “Tiger II” (known also as the Königstiger (literally “Bengal Tiger” but used widely in the sense of “King Tiger”)) appeared.  The Tiger project began in 1937 with Porsche becoming involved in 1939.  Although it had been in development for years, the Tiger still was essentially a “late stage prototype” when in 1941 the German tank crews had been shocked by the speed, firepower and resistance to damage of the Soviet T-34 which included simple but clever innovations such as “sloped armor” which deflected shells, greatly increasing the protection offered by a given thickness of armor-plate.  As late as 1942, even the larger German tanks were comparatively light and under-gunned so in response to the T-34, the army advocated the need for faster tanks which could out-maneuver their opponents, a reasonable suggestion given the better skills of German crews and their marked superiority of Panzer generals in handing the machines in battle formations.  Hitler however wanted bigger tanks with more armor and longer range, heavier guns, arguing the army was falling into the “battlecruiser delusion” of the naval strategists a generation earlier.  Pursuing the warship analogy, his point was that at sea, the side possessing the weapons with the longest range has the advantage because they can fire perhaps several salvos before their opponents even come into range.  In the Führer’s deterministic view, the commander of a smaller tank meeting a larger tank could do only what the theory suggested a battlecruiser’s captain should do when encountering a battleship: use superior speed to retreat out of range.  Hitler’s view of war was essentially Napoleonic (and frankly, Churchillian): “attack, attack attack!” so the notion of panzer divisions configured to avoid combat was anathema.

Tiger I outside the Vittoriano palace, Rome, February 1944.

Thus the original Tiger.  In its planned, specification, it would have been deployed with a combat weight between 39-42 tonnes (already increased by the additional armor requested after the experience of the campaign in France (1940)) but as delivered in 1942 to combat formations, this had increased to 56-58 tonnes.  Like military aircraft and warships, a tank is a compromise which emerges from the math: the trade-offs between speed, range, armor and armaments; increase one and within a given size and weight, the other imperatives suffer.  As the Tiger gained additional armor and firepower (a version of the 88 mm flak canon was fitted and it was one of the most effective and versatile weapons of the war), weight and fuel consumption increased and performance was reduced.  That was anticipated but given the need to bring the things quickly into service, there was not the time to design, test and produce a more powerful engine and more significantly, the existing transmission, intended for use in a much lighter platform, had to be used and reliability suffered.  Remarkable as it must now sound, even by mid-1942, German industry had not yet been converted to a “war economy” so development resources, already strained by the demands of the other services, were constrained.

An abandoned Tiger II, Osterode am Harz, Lower Saxony, Germany, April, 1945. 

Additionally, although the Tiger was at the time the most advanced and lethal tank then in series production, it was very much an engineer’s dream, loaded with innovations which offered improved handling and performance in ideal conditions but those rarely last for long on a battlefield and it was also complex, both its construction and frequent need for maintenance being labor intensive.  The economics were also challenging, the army ordinance office calculating the construction of a Tiger absorbed 208% the labor of any other tank and 64% more parts, the latter also an issue because of the high demand for spare parts (the need to produce these in the volume required would have meant reducing the output of new tanks which Hitler insisted be maintained at the maximum level.  Independently, to fill the technology gap, the armaments industry and army agreed simultaneously to develop a lighter version of the Tiger which was dubbed “Panther” but although this was conceived as a 30 tonne platform, by the time Hitler’s demands were accommodated, it typically was fielded with a combat weight around 48 tonnes.  Understanding the political dynamics, Porsche and Speer later presented Hitler with (wholly fanciful) plans for a “super tank” which would weight over a hundred tonnes (“the Dreadnought of tanks” in Porsche’s phrase) and be transported in pieces on flatbed rail wagons, assembled by crews close to the battlefield.  To give the venture a convincing air of secrecy, the project name was Maus (mouse).  No Maus was ever built and the production of Tigers never reached even 1400 (there were fewer than 500 of the 70-75 tonne Tiger IIs while the UK, US & USSR tank factories produces tanks in runs of thousands) but such was its aura gained by the “Tiger” name that even the anticipation of their appearance could cause Allied units to alter their plans.

1965 PotY Jo Collins with her pink Tiger.

More straightforward is the explanation why Sunbeam Tigers sold in France were called “Alpine 260” despite the French manufacturer Alpine having first sold cars there in 1954.  Sunbeam was able to use the Alpine name because their original version (the one driven by Grace Kelly) had first been sold in France in 1953, thus pre-dating the French venture Automobiles Alpine, the corporate identity of which wasn’t formalized until 1955.   Strangely, the “260” was a reference to the V8's displacement in cubic inches (cid), imperial measurements not used in wholly metric France (where a 4.2 (litre) badge might have been expected).  

1965 French market Sunbeam Alpine 260 with after-market 14" Minilite wheels.

So, on the basis of “prior use”, the Alpine name could in France be used, despite the existence since 1954 of the sports cars produced by Dieppe-based Automobiles Alpine.  Whether the decision to append an imperial “260” rather than a more localized “4.2” was the British adding insult to injury isn’t known but the use of metric measurements in engine displacement had for decades been the British practice, possibly reflecting the early French dominance in the field (rather as terms like “fuselage”, “aileron” and such were picked up in the English-speaking world because it was the French who enjoyed a early lead in aviation and thus got to name the bits & pieces).  Still, while subtle cross-channel slights may sound improbably petty, that’s a quality not absent either in international relations or commerce and not only were London and Paris then squabbling over whether the Anglo-French SST (supersonic transport) airliner should be called “Concorde” or the anglicized “Concord”, in 1963, Charles de Gaulle (1890-1970; President of France 1959-1969) had vetoed the UK’s application for membership of the EEC.  For that last diplomatic setback, the British may have had themselves to blame because when in 1940 they offered de Gaulle sanctuary in London after the fall of France, the Foreign Office allocated him offices on Waterloo Place and overlooking Trafalgar Square.  A sensitive soul, neither Le Général nor Le Président ever forgave or forgot a slight.

Carroll Shelby, Sunbeam publicity shot for the US market, 1964.

Between April 1964 and August 3763 Mark I Tigers were built.  The 2706 “Mark IA” models which followed between August 1965 and February 1966 were based on the Alpine Series V which had a number of detail changes (most obviously the doors, hood (bonnet) and truck (boot) lid having sharper corners and a vinyl rather than metal top boot for the folding soft-top); while these now universally are listed as “Mark IAs”, that was never an official factory designation.  The first Mark IIs weren’t built until December 1966 with production lasting only until June the next year when Sunbeam’s stocks of Ford V8s was exhausted and just 536 (although 633 is oft-quoted) were built.  Although there were detail differences between the Mark IA and Mark II, the fundamental change was the use of the 289 cubic inch (4.7 litre) engine and all but a few dozen were exported to the US.

Carroll Shelby invoiced Rootes US$10,000 to develop the original Tiger prototype and had expected to gain the contract for production on the same basis as Shelby American's arrangement with AC to produce the Cobra (ie he'd receive engineless cars into which he'd insert the V8s) but the process instead went the other way with Sunbeam importing the engines, contracting final assembly to Jensen.  Shelby instead received a small commission for each Tiger sold and appeared in some of the early marketing material.  He understood that despite (on paper) being superficially similar, the Tiger was a very different machine to the Cobra and, aimed at different markets, the two were really not competitors.  Amusingly, Shelby's US$10,000 fee was paid in a "back-channel deal", the funds coming from Rootes' US advertising budget rather than the engineering department's allocation.  That accounting sleight of hand was necessary because it was known to all the company's conservative chairman (Lord Rootes (1894–1964)), would never have approved such a project.  He changed his mind after test-driving the prototype and ordered immediate production, living long enough to see it enjoy success.

Tigerish: Lindsay Lohan imagined in cara gata (cat face) by Shijing Peng. 

One Sunbeam Tiger variant which did however not enjoy success was the Tiger GT which was supplied without a soft-top.  It might seem a strange notion that someone (unless they lived somewhere like the Atacama Desert in Chile which enjoys an average annual rainfall around 0.1 mm (0.00393699 of an inch)) would buy a convertible without a folding roof but in the 1960s it really was a thing, Mercedes-Benz releasing such a version of their W113 roadster (1963-1971).  Introduced in 1967 during the brief run of the 250 SL, Mercedes-Benz listed it officially as the “SL Coupe” but journalists and the public (and not a few dealers) quickly dubbed it the “California Coupe”, reviving an appellation which emerged in 1959 to describe the stacked headlight assembly used for a number of models between 1959-1973 because US lighting regulations outlawed the ovoid-shape composite headlights used for the RoW (rest of the world) production.  The rationale behind the label was apparently that “California” was the most American thing imaginable.  The California Coupe was enough of a success to be carried over to 1968 when the 280 SL was released and the model remained in the catalogue until the last W113s left the line in 1971; it’s believed some 1,100 were built.  Chevrolet in the era allowed buyers of the C2 Corvette (1963-1967) convertible to order their cars with the choice of (1) a soft-top, (2) a hard-top or (3) both and while a majority (35,892) chose both, of the 72,418 convertibles built 5,794 (just over 8%) eschewed the folding roof.  It’s true some of those would have been bought for use in competition so the folding roof would have been needless expense but it can be assume most were purchased to be registered for use on the street.

1964 Sunbeam Tiger GT interior.

So the “hardtop only” Tiger GT at the time probably seemed a good idea and it followed the model of the Alpine GT, added to the range when the Series III (1963-1964) was introduced (the versions with hard & soft-tops designated as Alpine STs although use of “ST” has always been about as rare as that enjoyed by “Sports Tourer” & “Gran Tourismo” which appeared in the early advertising copy.  The GT was essentially a “luxury” model and the most luxurious aspect was greater interior space, made possible by the area taken by the top’s stowage compartment being allocated to a larger, padded rear seat, albeit one really suitable only for children.  The GT’s unique appointments included full length pleated door panels (a padded arm rail a top), full carpeting (replacing the ST’s practical but utilitarian rubber mats), wood-rimmed steering wheel and burled walnut wood veneered facia for the dashboard.  Additionally, the GT featured as standard equipment some of the ST’s options including a clock, ammeter, cigar lighter and glove-box courtesy light.  The GT’s hard-top was painted to match the body, additional sound insulation was fitted and the carburetor even received a canister type air filter to minimise the “sucking sounds” from the induction system.  The GT’s modifications were all about refinement rather than performance for as well as being heavier, the GT received a slightly less powerful engine (80 HP against the ST’s 87).  Initially, the Alpine GT sold well though in the US it may have been the lack of a soft-top which curbed demand and when the Series V (1965-1968) Alpine was released, the GT no longer appeared in the US catalogue.

Brochure shot of 1963 Sunbeam Alpine GT interior.

So, with the Alpine GT having been well-received, it was logical for Rootes to include a Tiger GT in the new range; accordingly, during August 1964, Jensen completed was thought to be an initial batch of 15 Tiger GTs but they would prove to be the last.  Unlike the Alpine GT with its detuned engine, the Tiger GTs had the same mechanical specification as other Tigers and all 15 were shipped to US dealers where their “luxury” interiors seemed to have a “shaming” effect on the more basic (vinyl & rubber) appearance of the standard model, the distributers reporting to Rootes there was some market resistance to the 200 Tigers which had arrived, the drab interior not helping persuade buyers to spend some US$3,800 when Ford’s recently released Mustang offered the same engine and transmission combination in a bigger package for rather less.  The factory responded, adding to the Tiger’s specification the burl walnut veneer facia for the dashboard and the wood rimmed steering wheel (although the fancier door trims didn’t appear until the Mark IA revisions).  After that, the Tiger GT project was allowed to lapse with none were built after the first 15, its sole contribution to the line apparently inducing an upgraded interior for the standard model.

1972 Hillman Avenger Tiger advertisement (left) and 1972 Avenger Tiger Mark II advertisement (right).  The early Avengers (1972-1976) are remembered for their distinctive "boomerang (or hockey stick)" tail-lamps, a style later used by Mazda for the Cosmo (1975-1981 and sold in some markets as the RX-5).  It's believed the rear spoiler was not wind tunnel tested, despite the claim the "special aerofoil on the boot" was there to "keep the Tiger hugging the road".

1972 Hillman Avenger Tiger Mark II in Sundance Yellow.

While not quite the sublime to the ridiculous, the third and final Tiger certainly lacked the luster of its predecessors and was sold as a Hillman rather than a Sunbeam, the old Rootes group now owned by Chrysler.  Based on the Hillman Avenger (1970-1981), a competent if unexciting family car, the Avenger Tiger was initially a one-off built for motor shows (they used to be a thing) but such was the reaction a production run was arranged and, based on the Avenger GT, it was a genuine improvement, fitted with dual Weber carburetors on a high-compression cylinder head with larger valves and improved porting.  The power increase was welcome but wasn’t so dramatic as to demand any modification of the GT’s suspension beyond a slight stiffening of the springs.  On the road, the well-sorted RWD (rear wheel drive) dynamics meant it was good to drive and the performance was a notch above the competition at the same price point although Chrysler never devoted the resources to develop it into a machine which could have been competitive with Ford’s Escort in racing and rallying.  Despite that, when sold in the US as the Plymouth Cricket (1971-1972) the car won the demanding “Press on Regardless” rally although that wasn't enough to convince many Americans to buy the thing.  The first run of 200-odd Tigers early in 1972 were all in “Sundance” yellow with a black stripe (and in case that was too subtle, a “Tiger” decal adorned the rear quarter panels) but “Wardance” red was an option when an additional batch of 400 was made to meet demand.

A poster from Esso’s brilliantly successful “Put a Tiger in your Tank” campaign”.

Now, a remoteness between a product and the motifs used in its advertising is unexceptional but in 1959 when Esso in the US launched its “Put a Tiger in Your Tank” campaign, the concept was still quite novel but the abstraction (full up your car with Esso gas (petrol) and you’ll gain the power of a tiger) resonated and the campaign is today recognized as one of the most successful of the era.  Esso had, off and on, for decades used tigers as corporate symbols and the big cat had been the centre of a campaign in the UK in 1953 to promote gas sales after the end of post-war petrol rationing but that tiger had been a ferocious beast, something like the often hungry ones one would not wish meet in the wild.  The documentary evidence from the time suggests the Esso’s lethal looking Panthera tigris made it “just another advertisement” but when the US agencies re-imagined their big cat as something friendly and playful, it really caught the public imagination and created a number of minor industries in children’s toys, key-chains, piggy banks, buttons, pins, pens tiger masks, party glasses, coffee mugs, T-Shirts and even “tiger tails”, sold at Esso-branded gas stations to be attached to gas caps, the implication being to suggest there really was a “tiger in the tank”.

Esso’s original tiger in its “Esso for Extra” campaign which didn’t capture the hearts of UK consumers; perhaps memories of tiger hunting in the Raj were still too close.

The key word clearly was “tiger” because the cat was never named and within the corporation was referred to only as the “Whimsical Tiger”.  Genuinely, the friendly looking tiger seems to have transformed Esso’s image (it latter would suffer) and while the extent to which the campaign can be credited with the boom in Esso’s sales (they booked increases notably higher than their competitors), historians of the industry acknowledge the effect was significant.  The implications weren’t lost on advertising executives who learned the lesson that an emotional connection is often preferable to an intellectual one; while the UK’s earlier (zoologically a close to correct depiction) tiger certain conveyed the power and energy of the charismatic creature, it was the warm and friendly “Whimsical Tiger” which appealed to people and their children, the latter anxious to nudge their parents to buy gas from Esso in the hope of getting another plush toy tiger.

Pontiac GTO advertising, 1965 (G.T.O. also sometimes used in documents).

Pontiac definitely had Esso’s “British Tiger” in mind when they began using the big cat in advertising the GTO (1964-1974), the “male market” definitely the target and the messaging all about power and aggression.  Introduced in late 1963, the GTO was “an option package” designed to circumvent GM’s (General Motors) corporate-wide ban on such a thing existing and although conceived as a niche product, immediately it proved so popular (and profitable) that GM abandoned their principles and authorized on-going production.  The GTO is often referred to as the “first muscle car” (a formula which would come to be explained as “a big powerful engine from a large, heavy full-size put into a smaller, lighter vehicle) and while that’s arguable, it was certainly the 1964 GTO which defined the original 1960s “muscle car”.  Actually, the formula, on both sides of the Atlantic, had been in use since the inter-war years but what was unique about the US of the mid-1960s was a combination of circumstances: A booming economy and a large and growing cohort of males aged 17-25 with the cash or credit rating to afford to buy muscle cars.  Really, there was probably no animal on earth better suited to advertising something like the GTO and soon the imagery was all-pervasive, “Tiger Gold” added to the color chart.  Even before the release of the GTO, Pontiac had used a tiger theme in its advertising but it’s the GTO with which it became most associated.

Pontiac GTO advertising, 1965.  Now, were a company to use a tiger skin to try to sell something, they'd be cancelled.  Times have changed.

The original GTO wasn’t quite as muscular as the original press car provided to Car & Driver magazine for their infamous “comparison test” against a Ferrari 250 GTO, printed in the March 1964 edition.  That Pontiac GTO had not only a much bigger engine but was also modified to the point it was close to race-ready and was certainly nothing like the ones in showrooms but despite that deceptive and misleading trick, the ones customers could buy possessed sufficient charm to convince over 32,000 people to pay the retail price, some six times the marketing department’s projections.  Whether the use of tigers in the advertising and promotional material much contributed to the popularity isn’t known but as a piece of name association it worked not at all; by 1966, by which time Pontiac was shipping close to 100,000 GTOs annually, it was obvious males aged 17-25 had settled on the nickname “the Goat”, not an animal which would have been an obvious choice to apply to a high-performance car with youth appeal.  However, that’s how the English language works, and “the Goat” was a playful, phonetic shortening of GTO although recent revisionists have suggested it was an allusion to the car being “the greatest of all time” (that link with “goat” coming much later) or in “eating up the competition”, the GTO was emulating the goat’s reputation for eating just about anything.  There’s nothing to support these quasi-theories and there’s no doubt the nickname came from nothing but sound-play. Beginning in 1967, Pontiac switched the theme of its advertising from the tigeresque to “The Great One”.

Another big, dangerous cat: Advertisement for the 1976 Mercury Cougar.  Despite the apparent implications, not until early in the twenty-first century would “cougar” pick up the informal meaning: “an older woman who seeks sexual relationships with much younger men”; Mercury truly was ahead of the linguistic curve.

The big cats have provided names for manufacturers to use for cars; there have been Tigers, Lions, Jaguars, Cheetahs and Leopards (there is even a Leopard tank, in production since 1965 and now in its third generation) and there was also a Mercury Cougar.  Introduced in 1967 as a kind of up-market Mustang, it’s significance is not only that immediately it was highly successful but that it was the last truly successful Mercury; with some three million sold over 35-odd seasons, it was the marque’s biggest selling nameplate although from the late 1970s, Cougars bore scant resemblance, physically or conceptually to the classic original.  The press reports in 1967 made much of Ford’s admission the Mercury was an attempt to “build a Jaguar”, noting the statement was intended not to be read literally but rather an indication of a wish to build the sort of car which would appeal to someone who would buy a Jaguar.  The consensus at the time was Mercury had succeeded in building a fine car although whether many Jaguar customers were convinced isn’t known.  Some of the Cougars produced in the first four seasons of its long life were legitimate parts of the muscle car ecosystem but by 1976 when the above advertisement appeared, built on the intermediate Ford Torino’s platform, the Cougar it was little more than a slightly smaller Ford Thunderbird; that was bad enough but things would get worse.