Crossbody

Crossbody (pronounced kraws-bod-ee or kros‐bod-ee)

(1) Of or noting a type of bag, distinguished by a long shoulder strap intended to be worn diagonally across the body.  A crossbody purse or crossbody wallet is a variation on the theme.

(2) In professional (ie choreographed) wrestling, a term covering several aerial moves in which one competitor launches themselves from a height (sometimes using the ring’s ropes or corner-posts to gain altitude) landing horizontally or diagonally across their (often already) prostrate opponent's torso, forcing them to the mat if they were standing.

Early 1950s: The construct was cross + body.  As a prefix, cross was from the Middle English cros- & crosse- (relating to a cross, forming a cross, in the shape of a cross or “X”), developed from the noun and influenced by “across”.  Body (the spelling bodie is long obsolete) was from the Middle English bodi & bodiȝ, from the Old English bodiġ (body, trunk, chest, torso, height, stature), from the Proto-West Germanic bodag (body, trunk), from the primitive Indo-European bhewd (to be awake, observe).  It was cognate with the Old High German botah from which the Swabian gained Bottich (body, torso).  Although as late as the sixteenth century, “body” was used in the now archaic sense of the “section of a dress or gown extending from the neck to the waist but excluding the arms” the idea of the crossbody was a reference always to “the body” in the sense of the physical structure of a human form, in this case the torso, the line extending from a shoulder to around the opposite hip.  The alternative spelling is cross–body.  Crossbody is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is crossbodies.

The cross-prefix has widely been used for similar or analogous purposes such as the crossbow, (an early, mechanized version of the bow and arrow), the cross-bolt (a means of adding additional structural rigidity to the main bearings in an internal combustion engine by adding locating bolts at a 90^o angle to those mounted vertically) and cross-purposes (a conversation in which two or more are talking while misunderstanding each other's plans, intentions or meanings) and the cross-stitch (in needlework or embroidery, a double-stitch which forms a cross.  Many other uses such as cross-country, cross-dresser, cross-cultural etc, are different in that they don’t involve the “X” shape or (of necessity) anything in a diagonal.

Bill Clinton & Monica Lewinsky, the White House, February 1997, one of the photographs of the 1990s.

Monica Lewinsky (1973) was the young intern of whom in 1998 Bill Clinton (b 1946; US president 1993-2001) infamously remarked “I did not have sexual relations with that woman… Miss Lewinsky.”  Had that been something said in a county court in a flyover state of a consensual encounter between two obscure private citizens, defense counsel may have succeeded in arguing that for there to be “sexual relations” one must have “sex” and what transpired had not crossed the accepted definitional threshold.  In 1998, there probably were still places where such distinctions were maintained but because what happened happened in the White House between the chief magistrate of the United States and an intern a quarter century younger, Monicagate played out.  A trained lawyer and former Arkansas attorney-general, Mr Clinton may have been tempted to say “I did not have congress with that woman… Miss Lewinsky.”  At least arguably that could have be held to be “truthful” because “congress” generally is understood as coitus (penetrative sexual intercourse) where as “sexual relations” casts a wider net.  Whether such sophistry would have saved him from impeachment seems unlikely and nothing was going to save him from the wrath of crooked Hillary.  Unfortunately, in subsequent legal proceedings, we never got to hear Mr Clinton's deconstruction of “congress” but we did learn what the word “is” means and that his definition of “sexual relations” extended to “giving” oral sex but excluded “receiving” oral sex.  The latter distinction surprised a few but at least now we know.

As political sex-scandals go there have certainly been worse and as Harold Macmillan (1894–1986; UK prime-minister 1957-1963) replied when woken in the middle of the night to be told a member of his cabinet was in the midst of an affair with a young lady “with both a present and a past” who was also enjoying the affections of a Soviet spy: “Well at least it was with a woman.” (his sleepy response long quoted as an example of the old Etonian's sangfroid and reassessed only when Macmillan's bisexuality became public knowledge).  That the liaisons with the Russian were arranged at the behest of MI5 (the UK's internal security organization) is one of the many details which made the Profumo Affair (John Profumo (1915–2006)) one of the century's juiciest scandals although, some of the files containing "sensitive" information about members of the English establishment remain embargoed until 2046. Even then, few expect to see unredacted papers. 

Bill Clinton and crooked Hillary Clinton, the Hamptons, 2021.

A youthful indiscretion is one thing but an indiscretion with someone youthful is something else and whether crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013) ever forgave her husband only she knows but she didn’t leave him so there was that.  She had her own reasons to stay which may or may not have involved forgiveness but the conventional political wisdom remains that had the US constitution allowed it, Bill Clinton would probably have enjoyed a comfortable victory in the 2000 presidential election so enough of the US population either forgave him or were indifferent in the matter.  Monica Lewinsky fared not as well, being as unprepared for what ensued as just about anyone in her position would have been and it’s remarkable she coped as well as she did.  However, now 50, Ms Lewinsky has survived and in February 2024 emerged as the face of women’s fashion label Reformation’s latest campaign, one focused on corporate workwear and, in concert with vote.org, encouraging women to “use their voice” in the upcoming election and given the extent to which recent court decisions have encouraged an influential faction in the Republican Party to mount further assaults on the rights of women, their vote has the potential to be decisive in contests for both houses of Congress.

Monica Lewinsky's photoshoot for Reformation’s You’ve Got the Power campaign. 

The “You’ve Got the Power” campaign slogan thus has a dual meaning, referencing both the exercise of the franchise and the “power dressing” of the wardrobe (good taste prevailed and no electric blue dresses were featured) although big shoulder pads didn’t make a return which would have disappointed some but the corporate staples red (here described as “scarlet”) and black were prominent.  The range was conservative as befits the target market but seems to have been well-received and serious students of such things especially appreciated the inclusion of an irregular polka-dot in black & white.  Ms Lewinsky certainly looked good and while photographers have tricks to play with lighting and angles, there’s little to suggest much post-production editing was done; she looked a youthful, elegant 50.  One piece which attracted attention was the “Monica” bag which came with both a fitted top-handle and a longer strap, allowing it to be carried on the shoulder or as a crossbody.

Reformation’s "Monica" crossbody bag in black (left) and topo (right).

The Monica crossbody bag is available in topo or black.  Topo is a Spanish word meaning “mole” (both (1) in zoology as the small mammal and (2) in the jargon of espionage a “sleeper agent” who infiltrates an organization, usually to spy) and as a dark brownish-grey colour (ie an approximation of the colour of a mole's skin (hence the familiar "moleskin"), it’s the equivalent of the English taupe, from the French taupe, from the Latin talpa (mole).  In the circumstances, “talpa” presumably was more appealing to the marketing department than “moleskin” although “black” was refreshingly simple.  Reformation’s Monica (as in the crossbody bag) web page recommended the topo hue worked well paired with their “Lysander” dress, available in “selene” (the rather fetching polka-dot) or “midnight” (a dark blue close to navy and far enough removed from the shade of dress Ms Lewinsky made famous not to attract comment).  How fashion houses come up with product names is often mysterious.

Lysander was from the Ancient Greek Λῠ́σᾰνδρος (Lúsandros) and is a (now rare) male given name although in the US there has in the twenty-first century been a modest resurgence.  In the Greek, the name was used to denote “liberator” and it became entrenched in English probably because William Shakespeare (1564–1616) used it in the comedy, A Midsummer Night's Dream (1596), a romp in which Lysander found himself under Puck's spell after running away with his beloved Hermia, enduring a half-dozen cases of mistaken identity before being reunited, marrying in a triple ceremony (all of which sounds curiously modern in a Netflix sort of way).  What Reformation may have had in mind was Lysander (circa 454-395 BC), the Spartan admiral who liberated his people from the hegemony of Athens, his most famous victory being the sinking of the Athenian fleet at the Battle of Aegospotami (405 BC), the engagement which ended the Peloponnesian War.  Presumably, the thinking at Reformation was the name of an admiral from Antiquity was enough of a connection with navy blue although that tradition of use in navies began many centuries later.  There was also the Westland Lysander, a World War II (1939-1945) era communications & support aircraft used by the British Army and best remembered for (1) its role in smuggling spies and saboteurs into occupied Europe and (2) the unusual use of the wheel spats as mounting points for machine guns and ordnance such as 250lb (115 KG) bombs.  In production in the UK & Canada between 1936-1943, it was an uncelebrated but versatile platform which provided invaluable service in the clandestine operations run by the UK’s remarkably large number of agencies concerned with dirty tricks and other murky business.  It’s not likely Reformation thought much about the aircraft.

The Monicagate (1998) effect: The decline of the use of the name Monica in the US

Monica is a female given name and the variants in other European languages include Monique (French & Dutch), Mónica (Spanish Portuguese & Italian), Mônica (Brazilian Portuguese), Monika (Polish, Slovak, Slovine, Lithuanian, Croatian, Finnish, German & Indian, Czech, Bulgarian, Latvian, Finnish, Swedish, Norwegian & Danish), Moonika (Estonia), Mónika (Hungarian) and Mònica (Catalan).  The origin is obscure but may be from a Phoenician, Punic or Berber dialect, the oldest known instance being as the name of the mother of Saint Augustine of Hippo (354–430) although it has also been associated with the Ancient Greek μόνος (monos) (alone, only, sole, single).  It was Monica who converted Augustine to Christianity and in gratitude the Church also canonized her.  The Latin name Monica was from monere (to advise), an inflection of moneō, from the Proto-Italic moneō, from the primitive Indo-European monéyeti, causative from men- (to think); it was etymologically unrelated to later forms.  As an English name, it has been in use since the mid-eighteenth century while in the US, popularity peaked in the mid-1970s before beginning a gradual decline which became a precipitous plummet after 1999, something it seems reasonable to attribute to “the Monicagate effect”.

Lindsay Lohan with crossbody bags: At the LLohan Nightclub pop-up event, Playboy Club, New York, October 2019 (David Koma crystal-embellished cady midi dress with asymmetric hem, Valentino Rockstud 110mm pumps and Chanel mini tweed bag with crossbody strap from the Spring/Summer 2015 runway collection) (left) and with Louis Vuitton Le Coussin BB Bag (with a detachable crossbody strap), arriving with appropriate tatterdemalion chic (right), at JFK Airport, New York City, August, 2022 .

Creature of habit: Audrey Hepburn carrying her crossbody purse, Rome, 1971.

The crossbody bag in one form or another would have existed about as long as there have been bag-like creations for holding stuff because the design offers the advantage of transferring the weight to the shoulders (alternating if required) and leaving the user inherently "hands free".  Although for centuries a feature of military webbing, as a packaged piece of fashion, the industry usually credits the "design" of the product to Robert Sakowitz and later refinements to his daughter Bunny (she added the game-changing zipper!), the latter acknowledging a debt to the eighteenth century cross-body "strap bags".   The mix of thoughtful detailing, practicality and high prices meant that in the 1950s it soon became a a fashion staple and Audrey Hepburn (1929–1993) using one in her portrayal of the modern young spinster Holly Golightly in the movie Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961) cemented it's place.  It's never left and a crossbody bag is merely one worn across the body with the strap extending diagonally from one shoulder to the opposite hip but the utility come from (1) hands-free convenience, (2) security & stability while affording ease of access to multiple compartments and (3) the ability to optimize weight distribution.  The crossbody method can be applied to bags of various sizes and there are even crossbody wallets and small purses and while such things might sound merely decorative, men tend often forget it's not uncommon for a woman's entire outfit to include not one pocket; in an era when the modern young lady needs little more than her phone, a lipstick and a small can of mace, practicality need no longer imply big.

Lindsay Lohan in Rupert Sanderson (b 1966) Tiffany High Heel Sandals in Gold Mirror with Gold Caps on a four-inch (100 mm) heel.  Uno de 50 20^th anniversary party, Palacio de Saldana, Madrid, Spain, 9 June, 2016.

In fashion, the “cross-body” idea doesn’t need to be asymmetric with straps and such sometimes “mirror-imaged”.  In some cases that’s deterministic because, the essence of structural engineering being “making push equal pull”, it can be necessary to match something on the left with something on the right.  With strappy stilettos that approach obviously is optional there are asymmetric and symmetric implementations, both variations of “cross-body” and, in the case of this example, “cross dorsum” (top of the foot).

1961 Chrysler 300 G with SonoRamic “cross-ram” induction system (left) and Ford’s one-off abortive “Indy Cleveland” V8 with X-pattern push rod configuration (right).  The pair of bifurcated Sonoramic tubes were available in designer colors and red ones are thought very cool.  

In engineering, not all instances of the “cross-body” idea are there to provide or enhance structural integrity.  Chrysler’s SonoRamic induction system was developed in the late 1950s to gain some of the benefits offered by supercharging without the weight, complexity and cost.  The 30 inch (760 mm) long tubular intake runners with their distinctive “cross-body” layout were used because the engineers needed the length to achieve the required “resonant conditions” an exploitation of the properties of fluid dynamics made possible.  At that length, the system greatly enhanced mid-range torque, characteristics ideal for street use.  When a version was produced for competition where the need was greater top-end power, the tubes needed to be only half the length but for production line simplicity, the external dimensions were retained with the inner sections re-calibrated so the physics were active only over the final 15 inches (380 mm).

Fords one-off “Indy Cleveland” V8 was built in 1968 by Henry "Smokey" Yunick (1923–2001), a World War II bomber pilot who in the post-war years carved a distinctive role as one of the most imaginative souls ever to develop racing cars.  The genesis of the project lay in the competition rule permitting a generous 355 cubic inch (5.8 litre) displacement if a “stock-type” block was used.  Ford was in the throes of developing its 335 series engine (later called the “Cleveland” because the foundry where the blocks were cast was in Cleveland, Ohio) with a slated capacity of 352 cubic inches (5.8 litres and marketed as “351” because Ford had earlier produced an unrelated 352) so it was an obvious choice for the venture.  Freed from the limitations of having to produce something with the compromises necessary for use on the street, what Mr Yunick did was design a poly-angle valve-train geometry with angled, "criss-crossed" pushrods and ports larger even than those which ended up on the Cleveland's “4V” (ie “four venturis”) "big-port" cylinder head, intended for use with a four barrel carburetor.  As subsequent experience revealed, the generously sized intake ports on 4V heads were too big for wholly satisfactory street use and were ideal only in racing where so much time is spent at full-throttle;  for the “Indy Cleveland”, destined for the circuits, the big ports were perfect but unfortunately, Ford’s corporate in-fighting meant the project proved abortive and the single example built remains a museum piece.  After the brief "big port" era ended, Ford continued to use the "2V" & "4V" as verbal shorthand to distinguish between two and four barrel carburetors but confusing some, after production of the Cleveland was in 1974 shifted to Australia, the engineers there did a "mix & match", pairing the 2V heads with a 4V carburetor, creating a compromise optimized for road use.    

The "other Monica", the Monica 560

France's finest ever: 1963 Facel Vega Facel II, Paris, 1963.

In the fashion business there have been a number of products named “Monica” and it’s likely this often was for no reason other than it was thought appropriately feminine and pleasing to use.  There is also an automotive footnote, the Monica 560 a French-built luxury car which was the last of what often are referred to as the "first generation" of trans-Atlantic hybrids which, combining elegant European coachwork with robust, powerful, very cheap (and very thirsty) US-sourced drive-trains, flourished between the mid-1950s and the first oil shock two decades later.  They weren't really the "first generation" because there were manufacturers of such things during the 1930s but the sales volumes were tiny.  It’s often said the Monica was an attempt to resurrect the much lamented Facel Vega (1954-1964) but the founder was more nostalgic still, the industrialist Jean Tastevin (1919-2016) recalling the pre-war Delahayes, Bugattis Delages & Buccialis, French cars which ranked with the world’s finest.  However, when in the late 1960s Monsieur Tastevin surveyed the scene, even the more expensive French cars, whatever their other virtues (some of which were admittedly well concealed), were under-powered and although in many ways sophisticated, lacked the power and refinement of the British, US & European competition.  His core business was the large conglomerate Compagnie française de produits métallurgiques (CFPM) which specialized in building freight rail wagons, his imaginative business model including leasing them, a form of vertical integration which provided a stable revenue stream during periods of diminished demand.  

One of the valve cover castings for a Martin V8 installed in a prototype Monica.

With this industrial capacity and financial infrastructure, he reasoned building a car to compete with the other speciality builders (and he included in that the upper-range Mercedes-Benz, Jaguars and such) was within CFPM’s capacity and in that he may have been correct but a combination of bad decisions, bad luck and bad timing doomed the project.  The first mistake was to try to match Maserati & Ferrari in the use of a bespoke engine rather than the US V8s pragmatically adopted by Jensen, Bristol, Iso, Monteverdi and others; Tastevin wanted a thoroughbred, not a bastard.  What was available was a V8 designed by the gifted English engineer Ted Martin (1922-2010) and it was in many ways outstanding being robust, compact, powerful and light.  Convinced, Tastevin bought the rights along with the collateral contract under which Rolls-Royce agreed to handle the production, the prestige of a “Rolls-Royce-built engine” another thing which appealed.  Unfortunately, Monsieur Tastevin subsequently demanded of Rolls-Royce they guarantee the power output of each unit, an underwriting the company declined on the basis that as a manufacturing and assembly contractor of something they’d not designed and tested, they were not prepared to guarantee someone else’s work.  His contract well-written, Ted Martin kept the money and Tastevin had to find another engine.

The first (left) and second (centre) Monica prototypes and the Amiot 143M (1931-1944), a French five-seat reconnaissance bomber (right).

By early 1968, that was still to happen and prototypes were built with the Martin V8.  There was progress in that the chassis and most of the underpinnings were in close to their final form but the all-important styling was still a work in progress although that is being charitable, the appearance of the early prototypes in the tradition of some of the inter-war bombers built for the French Air Force which to this day remain among the ugliest aircraft ever to fly.  The English were involved in the appearance of the early cars so blame can be shared and it wasn’t until the Italian carrozzeria Vignale became involved, something like the final, sleek form emerged although the work would be brought to fruition by others because Vignale subsequently was shuttered.  One thing which was deemed right as soon as the decision was made was the car’s name: Madam Tastevin’s name was Monique.

The Monica stand, Paris Motor Show, 1972.

The Monica made its debut at the Paris Motor Show, late in 1972 and impressed many with the look of its jewel-like V8 and sumptuous interior although the price raised a few eyebrows, costing as much as two Citroën SMs, then France's most expensive car in series-production.  In the way of such things, the sales projections were optimistic, suggesting as many as 500 Monicas annually even though the market for big, expensive four-door saloons had become crowded; not only were specialists like Iso, Monteverdi and De Tomaso offering fully-developed and well-established models with reliable US V8s, Jaguar’s V12-powered XJ12 had set a dynamic benchmark at an extraordinarily low price and Mercedes-Benz were rumoured to be preparing a 7.4 litre (452 cubic inch) version of their epoch making S-Class (W116, 1972-1979) (post-oil shock, eventually it would in 1975 surface as the 450 SEL 6.9).  Still, in 1972, generally, there was still faith in the future.

1973 Monica 560 interior.  The engine was from the US, the leather & burl walnut was English, it was styled in Italy and the gearbox was German (or from the US if automatic).  The car was said to have a "French flavor". 

There optimism was still in the air in 1973 (the oil wouldn’t stop flowing until October) but by then the hunt was on for a new engine.  The contractual squabble with Rolls-Royce was one thing but by then, it had anyway finally occurred to Tastevin’s inexperienced team that the Martin V8, an enlarged racing engine, was never going to possess the characteristics needed in a luxury car.  It was noisy, at its best with a manual gearbox and at anything but high revs (where it needed to operate to produce the required power), somewhat rough.  In the early 1960s the Maserati Quattroporte had to a lesser extent displayed something of that character though it sold well but then there were few alternatives; by the next decade, the world had moved on and what buyers wanted was the turbine-like smoothness of the XJ12 or the effortless torque of the big-displacement V8 hybrids.  The 3.4 litre (209 cubic inch) Martin V8 was a vibrant thing which would have been entertaining in a sports car but it wasn't what the target market now expected in a luxury saloon.  Tastevin’s original plan had been to build a high-performance sports car and the switch to four-door coachwork came early in the development process but of all the hybrids built in the era, the Monica was the only one never offered as a two-door coupé. 

One of the few: 1974 Monica 560 Berlina.  The flowing lines were much admired and clearly not forgotten because the motifs re-appeared early in the next century on the Maserati Quattroporte V (Tipo M139, 2003-2012), that shape from Pininfarina's studio.

Surrendering to the inevitable, Tastevin phoned Detroit and arranged to purchase a batch of Chrysler’s 340 cubic inch (5.6 litre) (LA) V8s, one of the best of the small-block engines of the era and equally adaptable either to the company’s TorqueFlite automatic transmission or the ZF five-speed manual which still had real appeal for some.  Although by then somewhat detuned from its peak during the muscle car years, the 340 could be run in Europe without most of the power-sapping anti-pollution gear insisted on by US regulators (things were different then) and the performance was sparkling; in deference to Europeans for whom cubic inches were mysterious, the car was named the Monica 560 (an allusion to the V8's 5.6 litre displacement).  In 1974, the finished product was ready for sale although inflation meant the already high price had risen by over 50% since 1972 and the four-fold increase in the price of oil in the wake of the embargo had punished demand for fast, thirsty, cars, especially those from a previously unknown manufacturer.  By late 1974, many of the makers of the trans-Atlantic hybrids were either closed or in the throes of what would for most be a not long-protracted demise.  After 17 Monicas were sold in a few months, it was obvious the math was wrong and in February 1975, the company’s closure was announced, one of many such press-releases that year and while a handful of uncompleted chassis were brought to a finished state by a contracted third party, it’s never been clear how many.  Had the Monica 560 been brought to market in 1968 or 1969, it might have enjoyed some years of modest success although there’s no reason to believe it would have weathered the winds of change which blew through the 1970s any better than others blown away.

Ensorcell

Ensorcell (pronounced en-sawr-suhl)

(1) To bewitch; to cast a spell.

(2) Figuratively, (ie not involving witchcraft proper), a  woman's ability to captivate or enchant another (historically a man or men).

1535–1545: From the French ensorceller, from the Middle French ensorceler (to bewitch), a dissimilated variant of the Old French ensorcerer, the construct of which was en- (from Old French en-, a prefixation of Latin in (in, into)) + the verb from sorcier (sorcerer; wizard).  The ultimate root of sorcier was the Latin sors (fate, lot; oracular response; destiny, fate or fortune of an individual), from the primitive Indo-European ser- (to bind).  The alternative spelling is ensorcel.  Ensorcell & ensorcelling  are verbs, ensorcelled is a verb & adjective and ensorcellment is a noun; the noun plural is ensorcellments.  In English, the French verb ensorceler has been used as a noun.  

Despite the pedigree of the words from which it comes reaching back to antiquity. the verb ensorcell (to cast a spell or bewitch) didn’t appear in English until the sixteenth century and then only briefly, use not revived until the nineteenth century when the explorer Sir Richard Burton (1821-1890) included it in The Tale of the Ensorcelled Prince, a translation of a title of one of the Arabian Nights Tales (1885).  Ensorcell had appeared in Henry Torrens’ (1806-1852) earlier (partial translation) The Book of The Thousand Nights and One Nights (1838) which Burton had read and admired.  Prior to this, the only known instance in English was in George Puttenham's (1529-1590) Arte of English Poesie (1589), which was reprinted in the early nineteenth century and Torrens may have picked it up from there.  Thanks to the efforts of Burton, Torrens and others, in the imagination of the West, the art of ensorcellment became much associated with the women of the East, one of the themes Edward Said (1935-2003) would explore in his still controversial Orientalism (1979).

Victims

“She came forward swaying from side to side and coquettishly moving and indeed she ravished wits and hearts and ensorcelled all eyes with her glances.”  (The Tale of the Ensorcelled Prince in Arabian Nights stories (1885) by "Scheherazade", translated by Sir Richard Burton).

Ensorcell is one of those words in English which may have proved useful had it ever come into general use but it remained rare and now inhabits the niche of translations of exotic texts or tales of witchcraft and sorcery.  For most purposes the many alternatives are preferable:  hypnotize, fascinate, enthrall, stupefy, tickle, bewitch, captivate, please, delight, beguile, cajole, wow, enrapture, attract, mesmerize, enamor, gratify, charm, entice & thrill.  However, the word can be used to discuss men who are victims of beguiling women and there have been many:

Men who have been victims of ensorcellment, clockwise from top left: Bill Clinton (b 1946; US president 1993-2001) with Monica Lewinsky (b 1973); Barnaby Joyce (b 1967; thrice (between local difficulties) deputy prime minister of Australia 2016-2022) with Vikki Campion (b 1985), Welsh actor Richard Burton (1925–1984) with Elizabeth Taylor (1932–2011) (depicted here by Grant Bowler (b 1968) with Lindsay Lohan (b 1986) on-set in Cleopatera (1963) (Liz & Dick, 2012); & Daryl Maguire (b 1959, MLA (Liberal) for Wagga Wagga 1999-2018) with Gladys Berejiklian (b 1970; Premier (Liberal) of New South Wales 2017-2021).

Bill Clinton was one of the best & brightest minds ever to become POTUS but he was way too simple for Washington DC.  Anyone from New York could have told him there are low-risk ways to have affairs but if you have a fling with with a Jewish girl from Beverly Hills it's going to cost you something sometime.  So he's a victim but has only himself to blame, having already been ensorcelled by crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013).

Barnaby Joyce was a happily married man with four daughters until ensorcelled by his media advisor (a profession which appears to regard ensorcellment as a calling given their history with other National Party politicians).  Still, the adulterous couple later married and their two children were able to attend the wedding so all's well that end's well.

The other Richard Burton was the Welsh actor ensorcelled by fellow thespian Elizabeth Taylor.  As his turbulent life would suggest he wasn't one to learn from his mistakes because she managed twice to ensorcell him, their first marriage (1964-1974) enduring a little over ten years, the second (1975-1976) a bare ten months.  It was Dr Johnson (Samuel Johnson (1709-1784)) who said “A second marriage is a triumph of hope over experience.” and Burton doubtless knew of the quote so he too has only himself to blame.  When he died at 58 after decades of heavy drinking, it was said of him his body was like that of Randolph Churchill (1911-1968) who expired at 57: "Everything was just worn-out."

Gladys Berejiklian's ensorcellment of Daryl Maguire didn't end well with the former premier resigning after being found by the NSW Independent Commission against Corruption (ICAC) to have acted corruptly for, inter alia, an act of Billigung.  In the court of public opinion she did rather better, the consensus being something between "she was too good for him" and "what on earth was she doing with him?"  On-line and in print, there was much sympathy for her from other ensorcelers, anxious to assure her she wasn't alone and "every woman has had a Daryl"  Nobody seemed to express any sympathy for Mr Maguire so clearly the verdict was to "blame the victim".

Hollywood

Hollywood (pronounced hol-ee-wood)

(1) A locality name shared by some two-dozen locations in the US, most associated the neighborhood in north-west Los Angeles, the historic centre of the US motion-picture industry.

(2) A locality name used by several places in England and Ireland.

(3) As a metonym, the US motion-picture industry (not necessarily restricted to LA) or the various cultural constructs associated with the business.

(4) Of or characteristic of a motion picture which tends to the type most associated with the mainstream US industry.

(5) In the beauty industry, a technique of waxing which removes all of the pubic hair, contrasted usually with the “Brazilian” which leaves a narrow strip.

Pre-1200 (in Ireland): In England and Ireland, Hollywood was used as a place name, based on the existence of established holly plantations in the region and it was adopted for dozens of settlements in North America although it’s not clear if the presence of holly plants was a prerequisite.  The use of Hollywood as a metonym for the US film industry (and by film nerds specifically the “studio system”) dates from 1926, some three years after the big sign on the hills was erected.

Lindsay Lohan photoshoot in the Hollywood hills for Vogue Espana, August 2009.

Standing 45 feet (13.7 m) high and 350 feet (106.7 m) in length, the sign originally spelled-out HOLLYWOODLAND and was intended as a temporary advertisement to promote a real estate development but became so identified with the place it was decided to allow it to remain.  As a temporary structure exposed to the elements, damage or deterioration was inevitable and in 1949, after the “H” had collapsed, restorative work was undertaken, the “LAND” letters demolished.  This work actually endured well but by the 1970s it was again quite dilapidated, a rebuild completed in 1979 and periodic maintenance since has ensured it remains in good condition.  There have been instances of vandalism so perimeter fencing of the site has over the years been increased but, as far as is known, only one soul has ever committed suicide by throwing themselves from one of the letters.  The first known instance of the name being used is in local government planning documents filed in 1887.  Quite why the name was chosen is obscure but there are a number of suggestions:

(1) Of the heteromeles arbutifolia.  It’s said the early residents in the region so admired the prolific holly-like bush (heteromeles arbutifolia, then commonly called the toyon) which grew in the Santa Monica Mountains they fondly re-named it the “California holly” and it was as this the plant lent its name to the neighborhood.  Easy to cultivate, tolerant of the Californian sun and demanding only occasional water, the toyon can grow as high as 18 feet (5½ m) high, the white summer flowers in the fall & winter yielding red berries.  The branches were a favorite for floral centerpieces and during the 1920s their harvesting as Christmas decorations became so popular the State of California passed a law (CA Penal Code § 384a) forbidding collection on public land or any land not owned by the person picking the plant unless with the the landowner’s written permission.

Heteromeles arbutifolia (the toyon or California holly)

(2) More in the spirit of the American dream is that the name was a marketing exercise.  In 1886, Harvey Wilcox (1832–1891) and his wife Daeida (1861-1914) purchased farmland and fruit groves near the Cahuenga Pass, his intention being to sub-divide the land, selling the plots for profit.  A year later, Mrs Wilcox met a passenger on a train who mentioned owning an Illinois estate named Hollywood and she was so enchanted by the name she convinced her husband to use if for his development, sitting on the land now known as Hollywood.

(3) A variation of this story is that Mrs Wilcox met a woman who told her of her home in Ohio named after a Dutch settlement called Hollywood and, without telling her husband, she bestowed the name on the recently purchased land.  Mr Wilcox apparently didn’t demur and had a surveyor map out a grid for the sub-division which was lodged with the county recorder's office on 1 February 1887, this the first official appearance of the name "Hollywood".

Lindsay Lohan photoshoot in the Hollywood hills for Vogue Espana, August 2009

(4) Year another twist to the tale maintains a friend of Mrs Wilcox hailed from a place called Holly Canyon and it was this which induced her to pick the name.  This included the area we now know as Hollywood which was purchased as part of a larger package by land developer Hobart Whitley (1847–1931) although there are sources which give some credit to Los Angeles businessman Ivar Weid, this linked also to the toyon tree.

(5) Some of the stories seem imaginative.  One involves divine intervention with Mrs Wilcox naming the area after attending a Mass of the Holy Wood of the Cross on the site though if that’s the case, Hollywood may subsequently have disappointed God.  There’s also a version with a phonetic flavor and it’s said to come from Hobart Whitley's diary: In 1886, while in the area, Whitley came across a man with a wood-hauling wagon and they paused to chat.   The carrier turned out to be Scottish who spoke of "hauling wood" which sounded to Whitley like "Hollywood" and Whitley was attracted by the combination of holly representing England and wood, Scotland; the tale reached Harvey Wilcox, and the name stuck.  An Irish version of this says the name was based on an immigrant's nostalgic memories of his home town: Hollywood in Wicklow, Ireland.  The immigrant was Mathew Guirke (1826-1909) who arrived in the US in 1850 and became a successful Los Angeles businessman, owning even a racetrack.  It’s said he named his new homestead Hollywood in honor of his hometown.

Henry Kissinger (b 1923; US National Security Advisor 1969-1975 & Secretary of State 1973-1977) meets Dolly Parton, 1985.

The noun Bollywood dates from 1977 and was based on the construct of Hollywood.  It references the Indian film industry, the construct being B(ombay) +‎ (H)ollywood, because the city of Bombay was where the bulk of the industry was located’ it’s sometimes truncated as B'wood.  Although the Raj-era name Bombay has formerly been gazetted as Mumbai and the name-change seems to be adhered to in the West, among Indians Bombay continues often to be used and Bollywood is so well entrenched it has assumed an independent life and nobody has suggested Mollywood.  Historically, Bollywood was a reference to (1) the Hindi-language film industry in Bombay and (2) a particular style of motion picture with a high song & dance content but of later it (3) refered to the whole industry in India.  Thus, as use has extended, the specific meaning has been diluted.  By extension, slang terms to describe motion pictures produced in India in languages other than Hindi include Kollywood (Tamil film industry located in Kodambakkam in Chennai, southern India.), Tollywood (Film Nagar, the Telugu film industry located in Hyderabad, Telangana) and Urduwood (anything using the Urdu language), the last often used in a derogatory sense by Hindu Indians after the fashion of substituting “I am going to the loo” with “I am going to Pakistan”.  Predictably, Nollywood (the construct being N(igeria) +‎ (H)ollywood) was coined when a industry of scale became established there.  Located in the Knoxville metropolitan area in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, Dollywood is a theme park co-owned by country & western singer Dolly Parton (b 1946) and Herschend Family Entertainment (HFE).

Lindsay Lohan, Vogue Espana cover, August 2009.

Other linguistic inventions include hollyweird (said often used by respectable folk in the flyover states to decry the decadent lifestyles and liberal opinions held by those who live close to America's corrupting coastlines (ie not restricted to a condemnation just of a part of LA) and hollywoke, a more recent coining which links the liberal views held by the hollyweird with political correctness and wokeness in general.  The "Hollywood bed" was a marketing invention of the 1950s which described a mattress on a box spring supported by low legs and fitted with an upholstered headboard, so-named because it resembled the beds which often appeared in Hollywood movies although, the term has also been used in the context of Harvey Weinstein's (b 1952) nefarious activities.  Hollywoodian and Hollywoodish are both adjectival forms, applied usually disapprovingly.  Beyond mainstream use, the ever-helpful Urban Dictionary lists a myriad of creations including hollywood hot-pocket, hollywood wife, hollywood hair, hollywood drone, hollywood douchebag, Hollywood zombie, hollywood vitamins, pull a hollywood, hollywood Nap, hollywood snow, hollywood republican & hollywood handler.  Some are self-explanatory (at least to those who enjoyed a misspent youth) while others Urban Dictionary can flesh-out.

Hollywoodland, 1923.

Hollywood is of course inherently associated with glitzy renditions of fiction though it seems a bit rough that on-line dictionaries include as synonyms: bogus, copied, false, fictitious, forged, fraudulent, phony, spurious, affected, assumed, bent, brummagem, crock (as in “…of shit”), ersatz, fake, feigned, framed, imitation, misleading, mock, pirate, plant, pretended, pseudo, put on, queer, sham, wrong, deceptive, delusive, delusory, fishy, not genuine, not kosher (that one a nice touch), pretentious, snide, soft-shell, suppositious and two-faced.  Presumably the Republican National Committee (RNC) didn’t write the list but it’s doubtful they'd much change it.  In the same spirit, the antonyms include actual, authentic, factual, genuine, honest, real, sincere, true, truthful & valid.

Unique

Unique (pronounced yoo-neek)

(1) Existing as the only one or as the sole example; single; solitary in type or characteristics; the embodiment of unique characteristics; the only specimen of a given kind.

(2) Having no like or equal; unparalleled; incomparable.

(3) Limited in occurrence to a given class, situation, or area.

(4) Limited to a single outcome or result; without alternative possibilities.

(5) Not typical; unusual (modern non-standard (ie incorrect) English).

1595-1605: From the sixteenth century French unique, from the Latin ūnicus (unparalleled, only, single, sole, alone of its kind), from ūnus (one), from the primitive Indo-European root oi-no- (one, unique).  The meaning "forming the only one of its kind" is attested from the 1610s while the erroneous sense of "remarkable, uncommon" emerged in the mid-nineteenth and lives on in the common errors “more unique” and “very unique” although even strict grammarians seem forgiving of “quite unique”, a favorite in the antique trade where it seems to be used to emphasize the prized quality of "exquisiteness" (and on the basis of the advertising, there seems always to be much exquisite stuff for sale).  The comparative uniquer and the superlative uniquest are treated usually as proscribed forms but both are used as humorous devices; technically, while the preferred "more unique" and "most unique" might sound better, the structural objection is the same.  Unique is a noun & adjective, uniqueness, uniquity & unicity are nouns and uniquely is an adverb; the (rare) noun plural is uniques.

As might be expected, in his A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926), the stern Henry Fowler (1858–1933) was unforgiving, reminding us: “…it is applicable only to what is in some respect the sole existing specimen, the precise like of which may be sought in vain.  That gives a clean line of division between it & the many adjectives for which the illiterate tend to substitute it - remarkable, exceptional, rare, marvellous, & the like.  In the qualities represented by those epithets there are degrees ; but uniqueness is a matter of yes or no only ; no unique thing is more or less unique than another unique thing, as it may be rarer or less rare ; the adverbs that unique can tolerate include quite, ‘almost’, ‘nearly’, ‘really’, ‘surely’, ‘perhaps’, ‘absolutely or ‘in some respects’ and it is nonsense to call anything ‘more’, ‘most’, ‘very’, ‘somewhat’, ‘rather’ or, ‘comparatively’.  Such nonsense, however, is often written.”  

The Triumph Stag and its unique, ghastly engine

The V8 engine Triumph built for the Stag between 1970-1978 was a piece of machinery not quite uniquely horrid but so flawed it remained, most unusually for such an engine, exclusive to a single model in one body style.  By comparison the Fiat 8V (1952-1954 and so named because it was believed Ford held the trademark to "V8") appeared in a variety of coachwork though with a run of 114 it was hardly mass produced and the same applies to the 87 Pegaso Z-102/3s (1951-1958); even Mitsubishi's short-lived V8 lived on in a Hyundai .  The Ford Boss 429 (1969-1970) was only ever used in the Mustang (apart from two Mercury Cougars built for drag racing) but it was a variant of the 385 series engines (370-429-460) rather than something structurally unique.  More common have been V8s which never actually appeared in any production car such as Ford's 427 SOHC (a variant of the FE/FT family (332-352-360-361-390-406-410-427-428; 1957-1976)) or the Martin V8, designed by Ted Martin (1922-2010) initially for racing but briefly envisaged for the French Monica project (1971-1975) until economics imposed a sense of reality.  What is unique about the Triumph engine is it's the only one produced by the thousands which was used only in one model.

There was a little girl by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882)

There was a little girl,
And she had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good
She was very, very good,
And when she was bad she was horrid.

The Triumph 3.0 V8 and its seven problems

Engine cutaway. 

Problem 1: Some strange decisions were taken by British Leyland (BL) and many associated with the Stag’s engine are among the dopiest.  The engineering strategy was to create a family of engines of different size around common components which would enable the development of four, six and eight cylinder units with capacities between 1.5-4 litres, (75-245 cubic inches), the part-sharing offering some compelling economies of scale.  Done properly, as many have often done, it’s sound practice to create a V8 by joining two four-cylinder units but it’s unwise to using exactly the same bottom-end components for both.  Strictly speaking, because the V8 came first, the subsequent fours were actually half a V8 rather than vice-versa but the fact remains the bottom-end construction was more suited to the smaller mill; the bearings were simply too small.

Stagnant.  Blockages and corrosion by chemical reaction.

Problem 2: A second cause of engine trouble was the choice of materials. The block was made from iron and the heads from aluminum, a common enough practice even then but a combination new to Triumph owners and one demanding the year-round use of corrosion-inhibiting antifreeze, a point not widely appreciated even by the somewhat chaotic dealer network supporting them.  Consequently, in engines where only water was used as a coolant, the thermite reaction between iron and aluminum caused corrosion where the materials met, metallic debris coming lose which was distributed inside the engine; the holes formed in the heads causing gaskets to fail, coolant and gas (petrol) mixing with lubricating oil.

Problem 3. The engine used a long, single row, roller-link timing chain which would soon stretch, causing the timing between the pistons (made of a soft metal) and the valves (made of a hard metal) to become unsynchronized.  There are “non-interference” engines where this is a nuisance because it causes things to run badly and “interference” engines where the results can be catastrophic because, at high speed, valves crash into pistons.  The Stag used an “interference” engine.  There are advantages conferred by the “interference” concept which is why designers are tempted.  

Engine schematic.  Note the angles of the head-studs.

Problem 4: There was a bizarre arrangement of cylinder head fixing studs, half of which were vertical in an orthodox arrangement while the other half sat at an angle. The angled studs, made from a high-tensile steel, were of course subject to heating and cooling and expanded and contracted at a different rate to the aluminum cylinder heads, the differential causing premature failure of the head gaskets.  It must have seemed a good idea at the time, the rationale being it made possible the replacement of the head gaskets without the need to remove the camshafts and re-set the valves.  That is a time-consuming and therefore expensive business so the intention was fine but it was defeated by physics, something which should have been anticipated.  Nor did the thermal dynamics damage only head gaskets, it also warped the aluminum heads, the straight studs heating differently than the longer splayed studs which imposed lateral loadings that promoted warping.  As a final adding of insult to injury, the long steel studs had a propensity solidly to fuse with the aluminum head and, because they sat at dissimilar angles, it wasn’t possible simply to saw or grind the top off the offending bolt and pull of the head.

Problem 5: The head failures would have been a good deal less prevalent had the company management acceded to the engineers’ request to use the more expensive head gaskets made of a material suited to maintaining a seal between surfaces of iron and aluminum.  For cost reasons, the request was denied.

Triumph Stag engine bay.

Problem 6: Despite the under-hood space being generous, instead following the usual practice of being mounted low and belt-driven (at the front of the engine), the water pump was located high, in the valley between the heads and was gear driven off a jackshaft.  This, combined with the location of the header tank through which coolant was added, made an engine which had suffered only a small loss of coolant susceptible to over-heating which, if undetected, could soon cause catastrophic engine failure, warped cylinder heads not uncommon.  Because, when on level ground, the water pump sat higher than the coolant filling cap, unless the car was parked at an acute angle, it wasn’t possible to fill the system with enough fluid actually to reach the water pump.    It seems a strange decision for a engineer to make and the original design blueprints show a belt-driven water pump mounted in a conventional manner at the front of the block.

It transpired that Saab, which had agreed to purchase a four cylinder derivative of the modular family, had to turn the slant four through 180^o because, in their front-wheel-drive 99, the transmission needed to sit at the front and, space in the Swedish car being tight, there would be no room between block and bulkhead for a water pump and pulley to fit.  So, dictated by necessity, the pump ended up atop the block, suiting both orientations and driven by the same shaft that drove the distributor and oil pump (and would have driven the mechanical metering unit for the abortive fuel injection).  Aside from the issues with coolant, the drive mechanism for the pump brought problems of its own, the early ones proving fragile.  As if the problems inherent in the design weren’t enough, Triumph made their detection harder, locating the coolant temperature sender in one of the cylinder heads.  On the modular fours (with one head), that was fine but the Stag’s two heads didn’t warp or otherwise fail in unison.  One head could be suffering potentially catastrophic overheating yet, because the sensor was in the as yet unaffected other, the temperature gauge would continue to indicate a normal operating level.  That’s the reason just about every fluid-cooled engine with multiple heads has the sender placed in the water pump.  To compound the problem, the four and eight used the same specification water pump, which, while more than adequate for the former, should have be uprated for the latter.

Problem 7: This was the eventually nationalized BL of the 1970s, a case study, inter alia, in poor management and ineptitude in industrial relations.  Although the pre-production engines were cast by an outside foundry and performed close to faultlessly in durability-testing, those fitted to production cars were made in house in a BL plant troubled by industrial unrest.  Quality control being appalling bad, lax manufacturing standards left casting sands in the blocks which were sent for the internal components to be fitted and head gaskets were sometimes fitted in a way which restricted coolant flow and led to overheating.

The lineage of the Stag

Michelotti's show car, 1966.

It was a pity because but for the engine, the Stag proved, by the standards of the time, relatively trouble-free, even the often derided Lucas electrical equipment well behaved.  The story began in 1965 when Italian designer Giovanni Michelotti (1921–1980) had requested a Triumph 2000 sedan, a model he’d styled and which had been on sale since 1963.  Michelotti intended to create a one-off convertible as a promotional vehicle to display at the 1966 Geneva Salon and Triumph agreed, subject to the company being granted first refusal on production rights and, if accepted, it would not appear at the show.  The donor car sent to Turin was a 1964 saloon which, prior to being used as a factory hack, had been one of the support vehicles for Triumph’s 1965 Le Mans campaign with the Spitfire.  Driven to Italy for Michelotti to cut and shape, the result so delighted Triumph they immediate purchased the production rights and the Stag was born.  Briefly called TR6, the Stag name was chosen, somewhat at random, as the original project code but was retained when it was preferred to all the suggested alternatives; unlike the engine, the name was right from day one.

Michelotti's pre-production styling sketch for a cabriolet version of the Triumph 2000, 1967.  The concept was remarkably close to the production version.

The styling too turned out to be just about spot-on.  The partially concealed headlights, then a fashionable trick many US manufacturers had adopted, was thought potentially troublesome and abandoned but the lines were substantially unchanged between prototype and production.  There was one exception of course and that was the most distinctive feature, the B-pillar mounted loop which connected to the centre of windscreen frame, creating a T-section.  This wasn’t added because of fears the US Congress was going to pass legislation about roll-over protection; that would come later and see European manufacturers produce a rash of “targas” (a kind of roll-bar integrated into the styling as a semi-roof structure); Triumph’s adaptation was out of structural necessity.  Based on a sedan which had a permanent roof to guarantee structural integrity, Michelotti’s prototype had been a styling exercise and no attempt had been made to adapt the engineering to the standards required for production.  Although the platform had been shortened, a sedan with its roof cut of is going to flex and flex it did, shaking somewhat if driven even at slow speeds in a straight line on smooth surfaces; with any change to any of those conditions, vibration and twisting became much worse.  The T-top not only restored structural integrity but was so well-designed and solidly built the Stag’s torsional stiffness was actually better than the sedan and unlike Triumph's long running TR range (the separate chassis TR2-TR6, 1953-1976 (the TR7-TR8 (1975-1981) used a different, unitary, platform)), there was no scuttle shake.

Given the platform and styling was essentially finished at the beginning, the initial plan the Stag would be ready for release within two years didn’t seem unreasonable but it took twice that long.  Perhaps predictably, it was the engine which was responsible for much of the delay, combined with the turmoil and financial uncertainty of a corporate re-structure.  Triumph had since 1960 been part of the Leyland group (a profitable bus and truck manufacturer) and until 1968 enjoyed much success as their car-making division.  However, in 1968, under some degree of government coercion, a large conglomerate was formed as BL and Triumph was absorbed into the corporation's Specialist Division as a stable-mate to Rover and Jaguar-Daimler.

Jaguar & Daimler: V8s, V12s and missed opportunities

Daimler 2.5 V8.

What became the Stag's engine imbroglio was interlinked with the merger because with the great coming-together, BL had on the books, in development or production, one V12 engine and five V8s, an indulgence unlikely to survive any corporate review.  Jaguar-Daimler, the most substantially semi-independent entity within the conglomerate, were adamant about the importance of the V12 to their new model ranges and the point of differentiation it would provide in the vital US market.  They were notably less emphatic about their V8s.  Within the company, there had long been a feeling Jaguars should have either six or twelve cylinders, any V8 a lumpy compromise for which there’d never been much enthusiasm.  Additionally, the Jaguar was more of a compromise than most.  Based on the V12 it was thus in a 60^o configuration and so inherently harder to balance than a V8 using an orthodox 90^o layout.  Development had been minimal and Jaguar was happy to sacrifice the project, doubtlessly the correct decision.

1961 Jaguar Mark X.

Less inspired was to allow Jaguar's anti-V8 feeling to doom the hemi-head Daimler V8s.  Built in 2½ litre (2,548 cm³ (155 cubic inch)) and 4½ litre (4,561 cm³ (278 cubic inch)) displacement, both were among the best engines of the era, light, compact and powerful, they were noted also for their splendid exhaust notes, the only aspect in which the unfortunate Stag engine would prove their match.  Jaguar acquired both after merging with (ie taking over) Daimler in 1960 and created a popular (and very profitable) niche model using the smaller version but the 4½ litre was only ever used in low volume limousines, barely two-thousand of which were built over a decade.  Both however showed their mettle, the 2.5 comfortably out-performing Jaguars 2.4 XK-six in the same car and in some measures almost matching the 3.4, all to the accompaniment of that glorious exhaust note.  The 4.6 too proved itself in testing.  When, in 1962, engineers replaced the 3.8 XK-six in Jaguar’s new Mark X with a 4.6, it was six seconds quicker to 100 mph (162 km/h) and added more than 10 mph (16 km/h) to an already impressive top speed of 120 mph (195 km/h).  The engineers could see the potential, especially in the US market where the engines in the Mark X’s competition were as large as seven litres (430 cubic inches) and increasingly being called upon to drive power-sapping accessories such as air-conditioning.  As Mercedes-Benz too would soon note, in the US, gusty sixes were becoming technologically bankrupt.  The engineers looked at the 4.6 and concluded improvements could be made to the cylinder heads and the design would accommodate capacity increases well beyond five litres (305 cubic inches); they were confident a bigger version would be a natural fit for the American market.

Internal discussion paper for Jaguar XK-V8 engine, Coventry, UK, 1949.

Curiously, it could have happened a decade earlier because, during development of the XK-six, a four cylinder version was developed and prototypes built, the intent being to emulate the company’s pre-war practice when (then known as SS Cars) a range of fours and sixes were offered.  This continued in the early post-war years while the XK was being prepared and the idea of modularity appealed; making fours into sixes would become a common English practice but Jaguar flirted also with an XK-eight.  While the days of straight-eights were nearly done, trends in the US market clearly suggested others would follow Ford and offer mass-market V8s so, in 1949, a document was circulated with preliminary thoughts outlining the specification of a 4½ litre, 90^o V8 using many of the XK-four’s components including a pair of the heads.  There things seemed to have ended, both four and eight doomed by the success and adaptability of the XK-six and there's never been anything to suggest the XK-eight reached even the drawing-board.  Work on the prototype four did continue until the early 1950s, the intention being to offer a smaller car which would fill the huge gap in the range between the XK-120 and the big Mark VII saloon but so quickly did the XK-six come to define what a Jaguar was that it was realized a four would no longer suit the market.  Instead, for the small car, a small (short) block XK-six was developed, initially in two litre form and later enlarged for introduction as the 2.4; with this, the XK-four was officially cancelled by which time the flirtation with the eight had probably already been forgotten.  For decades thereafter, Jaguar would prefer to think in multiples of six and, having missed the chance in the 1960s to co-op the Daimler 4.6, it wouldn’t be for another thirty years that a V8 of four-odd litres finally would appear in one of their cars.

1954 prototype Jaguar 9 litre military V8.

That didn't mean in the intervening years Jaguar didn't build any V8s.  In the early 1950s, while fulfilling a contract with the Ministry of Supply to manufacture sets of spares for the Rolls-Royce Meteor mark IVB engines (a version of the wartime Merlin V12 made famous in Spitfires and other aircraft) used in the army's tanks, Jaguar was invited to produce for evaluation a number of V8s of "approximately 8 litres (488 cubic inches)".  Intended as a general purpose engine for military applications such as light tanks, armored cars and trucks, what Jaguar delivered was a 9 litre (549 cubic inches), 90^o V8 with double overhead camshafts (DOHC), four valves per cylinder and a sealed electrical system (distributors and ignition) to permit underwater operation, thereby making the units suitable also for marine use.  With an almost square configuration (the bore & stroke was 114.3 x 110 mm (4.5 x 4.33 inches)), the naturally aspirated engine exceeded the requested output, yielding 320 bhp (240 kw) at 3750 rpm and either five or six were delivered to the ministry for the army to test.  From that point, it's a mystery, neither the military, the government nor Jaguar having any record of the outcome of the trials which apparently didn't proceed beyond 1956 or 1957; certainly no orders were placed and the project was terminated.  At least one one of the V8s survived, purchased in an army surplus sale it was as late as the 1990s being used in the sport of "tractor-pulling" which is as noisy, dusty (and sometimes muddy) as it sounds.  Later, Jaguar enjoyed more success with the military, the army for some years using a version of the 4.2 litre XK-six in their tracked armored reconnaissance vehicles, the specification similar to that used when installed in the Dennis D600 fire engine.     

Jaguar V12 in 1973 XJ12.  So tight was the fit in the XJ's engine bay, even the battery needed its own cooling fan.

Jaguar’s management vetoed production of the Daimler 4.6 on the grounds (1) there was not the capacity to increase production to what be required for the volume of sales Jaguar hoped the Mark X would achieve and (2) the Mark X would need significant modifications to permit installation of the V8.  Given that Daimler’s production facilities had no difficulty dramatically increasing production of the 2.5 when it was used in the smaller saloon body and a number of specialists have subsequently noted how easy it was to fit some very big units into the Mark X’s commodious engine bay, it’s little wonder there’s always been the suspicion the anti-V8 prejudice may have played a part.  Whatever the reasons, the decision was made instead to enlarge the XK-six to 4.2 litres and missed was the opportunity for Jaguar to offer a large V8-powered car at least competitive with and in some ways superior to the big Americans.  The Mark X (later re-named 420G) was not the hoped-for success, sales never more than modest even in its early days and in decline until its demise in 1970 by which time production had slowed to a trickle.

It was a shame for a design which was so advanced and had so much potential for the US market and had the V8 been used or had the V12 been available by the mid-1960s, things could have been different.  The unfortunate reputation the twelve later gained was because of lax standards in the production process, not any fragility in the design which was fundamentally sound and it would have been a natural fit in the big Mark X.  So the Daimler 4.6 remained briefly in small-scale production for the limousines and the 2.5 enjoyed a successful run as an exclusive model under the hood of the smallest Jaguar (as well as the footnote of the SP250 roadster), a life which would extend until 1969.  Unfortunately, the powerful, torquey, compact and robust 2.5, which easily could have been enlarged to 3.0 litres (183 cubic inch), wasn’t used in the Stag.  More helpfully, even if capacity had been limited to 2.8 litres (171 cubic inches) to take advantage of the lower taxation rates applied in Europe, the smaller Daimler V8 would have been more than equal to the task while a Stag with the 4.6 would have been ideal for markets such as Australia and North American.  Both would have out-performed the Triumph 3.0, sounded just as good (and the Stag did sound superb) and been reliable; had the Daimler V8s been used the car would likely have been a great success because the design was otherwise fundamentally sound and it was clear demand existed.  Indeed, when released, of its type, it was a rarity and within half a decade it was unique in the market as the only (reasonably-priced) four-seat convertible.  Although, due to factors such as tariffs, exchange rates, import quotas and such, the relativities differed between markets, Australia in mid-1977 was illustrative with the Stag priced at Aus$13,995 (manual) & Aus$14,450 (automatic) compared with the Mercedes-Benz 450 SL (automatic only) at Aus$39,979 (including the rarely-ordered rear-seat option at Aus$2,450).  Mercedes-Benz did offer the 450 SLC at Aus$44.579 and its rear compartment was more capacious than the Stag’s but it was strictly a hardtop coupé with no convertible version available.  Beyond the 450 SL, the next four-seat convertible in the price-list was the Rolls-Royce Corniche at Aus$73,000 (ie it cost more than five Stags).  So the Stag was a bargain or would have been had the engine been reliable.  Although there’s some competition, no car is more emblematic of the ineptitude of British Leyland than the Stag. 

Crossing the Rubicon

Fuel-injected 2.5 litre Triumph six in 1968 Triumph TR5.

The Triumph six was essentially an enlarged version of an earlier four.  Released also in 1.6 & 2.0 capacities and used in the 2000/2500, Vitesse, GT6 & TR5/6, the fuel-injection was adopted only for the some of the non-US market sports cars and the short-lived 2.5 PI saloon.  TVR, which used the engine in the 2500M, in all markets, offered only the twin-carburetor version certified for US sale in the TR-250.  Apart from those fitted with never wholly satisfactory Lucas mechanical fuel-injection, with roots in a tractor engine, the pushrod Triumph six was not an advanced powerplant but it was highly tuneable and something the Stag's V8 never was: robust and reliable.  Although it sounds (and would have been) anachronistic, Triumph would have been better advised to take the old four and create a 3.0 litre straight-eight with the power take-off in the centre.  Even with carburetors (certainly for the US market) it would have been unique (in a good way) and doing that while adding a few inches to the nose would have been a simpler and cheaper task than what was done.  A straight-eight Stag would also have reached the market earlier.      

Triumph tried using the fuel-injected 2.5 litre straight-six already in development for the TR5 but the rorty six was a sports car engine unsuited to the grand tourer Triumph intended the Stag to be and thus was born a 2.5 litre V8, part of a modular family.  Another innovation was that the V8 would use the Lucas mechanical fuel-injection adopted for the long-stroke six and this at a time when relatively few Mercedes-Benz were so equipped.  However, while the power output met the design objectives, it lacked the torque needed in a car of this nature, and the high-revving nature wasn’t suited to a vehicle intended to appeal to the US market where it was likely often to be equipped both with air-conditioning and automatic transmission; the decision was taken to increase capacity to three litres.  Because the quest was for more torque, it might be thought it would be preferred to lengthen the stroke but, for reasons of cost related to the modularity project, it was decided instead to increase the bore to a very over-square 86.00 x 64.50 mm (3.39 x 2.52 inches).  Despite this, the additional half-litre delivered the desired torque but the coolant passages remained the same so an engine with a capacity twenty percent larger and an increased swept volume, still used the already hardly generous internal cooling capacity of the 2.5.  It was another straw on the camel’s back.

It was also another delay and, within Leyland, questions were being raised about why a long and expensive programme was continuing to develop something which, on paper, appeared essentially to duplicate what Leyland then had in production: Rover’s version of the 3.5 litre V8 which they’d much improved after buying the rights and tooling from General Motors (GM).  Already used to much acclaim in their P5B and P6 saloons, it would remain in production for decades.  The Rover V8 did seem an obvious choice and quite why it wasn’t adopted still isn’t entirely certain.  One story is that the Triumph development team told Rover’s chief engineer, by then in charge of the Stag project, that the design changes associated with their V8 were by then so advanced that the Rover V8 “wouldn’t fit”.  While it seems strange an engineer might believe one small V8 wouldn’t fit into a relatively large engine bay which already housed another small V8, he would later admit that believe them he did.

Tight fit: Ford 289 (4.7) V8 in 1967 Sunbeam Tiger Mark II.  A small hatch was added to the firewall so one otherwise inaccessible spark plug could be changed from inside the cabin.

It actually wasn’t a wholly unreasonable proposition because to substitute one engine for another of similar size isn’t of necessity simple, things like cross-members and sump shapes sometimes rendering the task impossible, even while lots of spare space looms elsewhere and a similar thing had recently happened.  In 1967, after taking control of Sunbeam, Chrysler had intended to continue production of the Tiger, then powered by the 289 cubic inch (4.7 litre) Windsor V8 bought from Ford but with Chrysler’s 273 cubic inch (4.5 litre) LA V8 substituted.  Unfortunately, while 4.7 Ford litres filled it to the brim, 4.5 Chrysler litres overflowed; the small-block Ford truly was compact.  Allowing the Tiger 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 correct but deliberately vague “…an American V-8 power train”.

1973 Triumph Stag.

It may have been, in those perhaps kinder times, one engineer would believe another.  However, years later, a wrinkle was added to the story when, in an interview, one of the development team claimed what was said was that they felt the Rover V8 was “not a fit” for the Stag, not that “it wouldn’t fit”, an amusing piece of sophistry by which, it was said, they meant the characteristics of the engine weren't those required for the Stag.  That may have been being economical with the truth: any engineer looking at the specifications of the Rover unit would have understood it was highly adaptable and so for decades it proved to be, powering everything from the Land Rover to executive saloons and high-performance sports cars.  More plausible an explanation was competing economics.  Triumph was projecting a volume of between twelve and twenty-thousand a year for the Stag and, within the existing production facilities Rover could not have satisfied the demand in addition to their own expanding range, soon to include the Range Rover, added to which, an agreement had been reached to supply Morgan with engines for the +8 (a model which would something which would revitalize their fortunes).  The Morgan deal was for a relatively small volume but it was lucrative and the success of the +8 was already encouraging interest from other manufacturers.  So, with Triumph already in the throes of gearing up to produce their modular engines and Rover said to be unable to increase production without a large capital investment in plant and equipment, the fateful decision to use the Triumph engine was taken.

1974 Triumph Stag in magenta.  Some of the ("so 1970s") shades of brown, beige, orange and such used in the 1970s by BL are not fondly remembered but others were quite striking.

This was the critical point, yet even then it wasn’t too late.  Although Jaguar were emphatic about shutting down Daimler’s V8 lines and converting the factories to XJ6 production, it would have been possible to move the tooling and resume building a 2.5, 2.8 or 3.0 Daimler V8 for the Stag.  Rover had found managing a shift of some tooling across the Atlantic not too onerous a task so trucking stuff a few miles down the road should have been possible.  Ironically, Triumph argued their OHC V8 was a more modern thing than the then decade-old pushrod Daimler which, they suggested, wouldn’t be able to be adapted to upcoming US emission regulations and thus would have a short life.  Given the success of many in coaxing pushrod V8s through decades of US regulations, that probably wasn’t true but it had all become irrelevant; the decision had been taken to pursue Triumph’s modular option.  At least a decision had been taken that was final, unlike some if BL's ventures of the era but it did mean the Stag’s introduction further was delayed.

1973 Triumph Stag.

Eventually, the Stag was launched in the summer of 1970 to a positive if not rapturous reception.  There was criticism of weight of the hardtop and the fabric roof not being as easy to use as the brochure suggested (and since 1966 the Fiat 124 Spider's delightfully engineered top was there to show how it could be done) but most contemporary journalists seemed to enjoy the drive although some were disappointed with the lack of power; the wonderful exhaust note and rakish lines perhaps promising more but this was a relatively heavy four-seat grand tourer, not a sports-car.  Still, it would touch 120 mph (190 km/h) and its acceleration, brakes and handling were all at least comparable to the competition and, among that completion, it was close to unique.  A small-capacity V8, four-seat convertible with a choice of manual or automatic transmissions and all-independent suspension was a tempting specification in 1970; to get the same thing from Mercedes-Benz would cost more than three times as much.  Of course Stuttgart would probably have suggested their buyers got something more than three times as good, a not unreasonable point at the time and, given the prices at which 280SE 3.5 cabriolets now trade, the Germans were conservative in their three-fold estimate.  The Stag though was obviously good value for money and had some nice touches, a heated rear window when that was a novelty in removable hard tops, a clever (and influential) multi-function display of warning lights and even, though curiously discordant, the option of wire wheels.

1974 Triumph Stag interior.  The switch atop the shifter (gear lever) knob activated the Laycock de Normanville overdrive.

All concluded that driving one was a pleasant, if not especially rapid, experience but owning a Stag proved frequently nightmarish, all because of that unique engine.  Before many months had elapsed it was clear there were problems and, despite years of fixes and adjustments, the inherent design faults proved just too embedded in the mechanical DNA.  A change to the Rover V8 might, even then been the answer for the Stag otherwise suffered from little but by the mid-1970s, BL was in dire financial straits, chronically under-capitalized and without any appetite to invest in a small volume product with an uncertain future.  Perhaps the earlier failure by Facel Vega to rescue the doomed Facellia by replacing the interesting but fragile French engine with a dreary but reliable Volvo unit played on their minds.  An upgraded automatic transmission, improvements to the cooling system and other detail changes to the engine were pursued and even an inconspicuous re-style was thought to warrant a “Mark 2” tag but the reputation never recovered.

Quixotic derivations were built but never pursued.  There were a couple of clumsy-looking prototype GT6-esque (the GT6 was a successful fastback version of the Spitfire roadster which used a the 2.0 litre straight-six in place of the smaller car's 1.3 litre four) hatchbacks which excited little interest and in 1972 Ferguson Research adapted two using their all-wheel-drive and anti-lock brake systems made famous on the Jensen FF; said to work most effectively, both still exist in private hands but there's nothing to suggest even limited production was ever contemplated.  In seven years, 25,877 Stags were built, 6,780 of which were exported but only 2,871 Americans were persuaded, a disappointment in a market of which much had been hoped.

End of the line: 1977 Triumph Stag.

The Stag however has enjoyed an extraordinary afterlife for something once thought a fragile failure.  Seduced by the style, the surprising practicality and the intoxicating burble of the exhaust, the survival rate has been high and most still run the Triumph V8 rather than the Rover V8, Ford V6 or any of the small-block Detroit V8s to which not a few owners resorted.  Modern additions improve the experience too, five speed manual transmissions have been fitted, mostly to cars not equipped with the desirable overdrive and there's a popular and well-executed conversion to a four-speed ZF automatic which many describe as transformative.  There can be few engines which have for so long inspired owners to devote so much energy to rectifying the defects the factory never fixed.  High strength timing chains, external water pumps, improved radiators, better bearings and (the once rejected) correct head gaskets are now available, the consensus being that properly sorted and maintained by the book, it’s a solid, reliable engine, just not one which can be tolerate the sort of neglect Detroit's V8s of the era famously would endure with little complaint.

The Stag, November 2023 (the date stamp 21/8/2024 presumably wasn't caught during the pre-production process).

The Stag is the student newsletter of Reddam House Sydney, an independent, co-educational, non-denominational, day school, located in the leafy (Sydney code for “rich”) suburb of Woollahra.  An encouragingly professional example of student journalism, the content appears to reflect the generation's interest in popular culture (film, fashion, music, sport etc), climate change, consumer tech products and progressive politics (including the now obligatory trigger-warnings).  The writers take a few youthful liberties with conventions of formal English but that lends the publication an accessible, conversational tone.