1956 Nash Ambassador Custom V-8 four-door sedan / Mecum Auctions
If you’re not very familiar with these oddball 1950s cars or haven’t seen an old Nash in a minute, I thought it would be fun to take a closer look at a 1956 Ambassador Custom Eight, with some explanation of what you’re looking at and how it got that way — a flashy but dated example of a dying line of full-size Nash cars.
1955 Nash Ambassador Custom / Bring a Trailer
Nash Motors was founded in 1916 by Charles W. Nash and James Storrow, who bought out and reorganized an earlier automaker called the Thomas B. Jeffrey Co. In 1936, Nash merged with Kelvinator Corporation, which made refrigerators and other appliances, and Kelvinator president George W. Mason (pictured below center) became the new president of Nash-Kelvinator. In 1948, Mason hired George Romney, managing director of the Automobile Manufacturers Association, as his special assistant and right hand. Romney (pictured below right) would also become Mason’s successor.
Hudson’s A.E. Barit shaking hands with George Mason (center) as George Romney (right) looks on, May 1954
Although it was one of the smaller independent automakers, Nash was a middle-class brand. It was in roughly the same price category as Buick or Chrysler, although from 1946 through 1954, Nash didn’t offer an eight-cylinder engine. In the ’40s, they had two model lines, the smaller 600 (renamed Statesman in 1950) and the bigger Nash Ambassador, joined in mid-1950 by the compact Nash Rambler. Nash focused on comfort rather than racy performance, but they did offer some novel features: The Nash 600 was the first U.S. model with true unit construction, and the Nash “Weather Eye” heater was the prototype of modern automotive heaters, offering thermostatically controlled heating of fresh outside air warmed by engine coolant.
1949 Nash Ambassador Super four-door sedan / Mecum Auctions
In 1949, Nash also went in big for aerodynamics with the streamlined, unit-bodied Nash Airflyte models, inevitably dubbed “Bathtub Nashes.” People made fun of their beetle-like looks even at the time, but the Bathtub Nashes actually sold quite well, around 150,000 units a year for their three-year run.
1949 Nash Ambassador Super four-door sedan / Mecum Auctions
For 1952, which Nash counted as its Golden Anniversary (based on the 1902 founding of the Thomas B. Jeffrey Co.), the big Nash cars got what would be their last major restyling. Nash-Kelvinator officially credited this to their Italian styling consultant, coachbuilder Batista “Pinin” Farina, although most of it was actually done in-house.
Carrozzeria Farina badge on a 1956 Nash Ambassador / ClassicCars.com
The Golden Anniversary Airflyte cars had a more orthodox notchback shape than the “Bathtub” cars, although their reverse-slant C-pillars and enclosed front wheels still made them look a bit odd.
1952 Nash Ambassador Custom sedan / Mecum Auctions
George Mason was very keen on the enclosed wheels, which he thought gave Nash an easily recognized signature styling feature, although the Nash engineering staff hated them. (If you’re wondering, yes, they did increase the turning radius.)
1952 Nash Ambassador Custom two-door sedan / Mecum Auctions
Nashes of this era could also be ordered with neat “Flying Lady” hood ornaments, designed by pinup artist George Petty.
Flying Lady hood ornament on a 1952 Nash Ambassador Custom / Mecum Auctions
Until about 1951, not having an eight-cylinder engine in this class wasn’t a huge handicap. Some other mid-price brands, like Dodge and DeSoto, didn’t have eights either, and some rivals that did, like Chrysler and Pontiac, still sold a lot of sixes. Still, the new short-stroke OHV V-8 engines that had begun to appear in 1949 made older inline-6s and straight-8s seem old-fashioned, and even buyers who didn’t know from overhead valves could tell a V-8 from an inline-6 at a glance.
The 1952 Nash Ambassador used the 252.6 cu. in. OHV Jetfire six, with 120 hp/ Mecum Auctions
The problem for smaller independent automakers like Nash was that all-new engines weren’t cheap, and the independents didn’t have deep pockets for new tooling and equipment. Also, during the Korean War, the federal government allocated strategic materials like steel based on prewar market share, which gave the bigger companies a big advantage, while imposing strict limits on consumer credit that made it harder to buy a new car if you couldn’t pay cash.
1952 Nash Ambassador Custom two-door sedan / Mecum Auctions
In 1952, George Mason began talking with James J. Nance, the president of Packard, about a reciprocal deal where Packard would buy components from Nash and Nash would buy the new V-8 engine Packard was developing. Packard, a luxury car maker desperately trying to move downmarket in hopes of increasing its sales volume, didn’t see a lot of upside in just selling engines to Nash unless Nash also agreed to help underwrite the development and tooling costs, which were very high (and ended up being even higher than Packard thought). Mason wasn’t categorically opposed to that, but he and Nance had quite different ideas about what would be fair, so they spent the next two years haggling.
1953 Nash Ambassador Super four-door sedan / Bring a Trailer
Things really started to turn sour for the independents in 1953. When the wartime restrictions were lifted, Ford, GM, and Chrysler aggressively ramped up production, leading to a price war that devastated the independents’ market share. In 1948, the independents had had about one-fifth of the U.S. market; by the end of 1953, they were down to only one-sixteenth! George Mason had been arguing for a while that the independents needed to join together to survive, but the market had been so strong prior to the Korean War that Packard, Hudson, and Studebaker had been slow to see the need. When things went south in 1953, the independents developed merger fever, leading Nash to merge with Hudson in 1954 as American Motors, while Packard merged with Studebaker. Mason had hoped to merge all four brands into a new conglomerate, but the Packard board wasn’t very interested, and Nance and Romney each felt they should eventually move into the top slot of a merged company. Mason’s death in October 1954 effectively put an end to the whole idea.
1954 Nash Ambassador Custom sedan / Bring a Trailer
This left Nash with a problem: They had absorbed Hudson, but there wasn’t much money for more than minor cosmetic touch-ups of the 1952 Golden Airflyte body, which, beginning in 1955, now had to be offered in both Nash and Hudson versions. In this era, automotive styling was changing rapidly, and designs that looked good one year often seemed old hat after two or three years and positively desperate after that.
1955 Nash Ambassador Custom Eight / Bring a Trailer
In his post on a 1956 Nash Ambassador Eight, Perry Shoar remarked that ’50s cars, cluttered with automotive costume jewelry, now seem a strange contrast with the stark lines of the same era’s Mid-Century Modern architecture. However, most domestic automakers of this time felt strongly that an old-looking car was much worse than an overdecorated one, even if the decorations were in no way an improvement aesthetically. Nash’s only real step forward in that respect was the gradual opening of the front wheel arches, which also reduced the turning radius to a more workable size.
1955 Nash Ambassador Custom Eight / Bring a Trailer
The bright spot for Nash (and Hudson) was that beginning in 1955, they finally had the new Packard V-8. I don’t think Mason lived to see this — he died just as 1955 production was beginning — but it theoretically made Nash and Hudson more competitive in the mid-price league, nearly all of which had V-8 engines by this time.
1955 Nash Ambassador Custom Eight / Bring a Trailer
Packard had insisted on de-tuning the AMC version of the new 320 cu. in. OHV V-8, which had a two-barrel carburetor and a compression ratio of only 7.8 to 1 (raised mid-year to 8.25 to 1), but its 208 gross hp was still 63 hp more than the most powerful Nash six and 48 hp more than the bigger six in the Hudson Hornet. The V-8 was only available with two-speed Packard Twin Ultramatic, and only in the senior Hudson Hornet and Nash Ambassador models.
1955 Nash Ambassador Custom V-8 / Bring a Trailer
The Ambassador and Hornet were big cars for the time: Even without the optional Continental spare, they were 209.25 inches long on a 121.25-inch wheelbase and weighed over 4,000 lb, so the V-8 offered only adequate performance. Motor Trend‘s 1955 Nash Ambassador V-8 test car needed 13.7 seconds to reach 60 mph, with a top speed of 102.13 mph; Motor Life managed 13 seconds flat to 60 and 103.9 mph. That was only okay for 1955, and Motor Trend averaged just 12.2 mpg.
The 1955 Nash Ambassador offered the Packard V-8 only in the pricier Custom trim series / Bring a Trailer
Mild performance and increasingly odd styling didn’t exactly trigger a run on Nash and Hudson dealers. Total 1955 production for the big Nash and Hudson models was up to 81,237, split about 50/50 between the two brands — only about half what the old “Bathtub” Nash had managed four or five years earlier. The only model selling at all well was the compact Rambler, which now accounted for about three-fourths of AMC sales.
1956 Nash Ambassador Custom Eight four-door sedan / Mecum Auctions
This brings us back to our subject, the 1956 Nash Ambassador Custom V-8. For 1956, AMC could only afford a few more minor tweaks to the exterior design. There was yet more chrome, including faux grilles under the running lights in the front fenders and the Z-shaped side molding, which facilitated an array of vivid tri-tone paint combinations. The car shown here combines Solitaire Blue and Pacific Blue with a Frost White roof.
1956 Nash Ambassador Custom Eight four-door sedan / ClassicCars.com
A four-door Ambassador Custom sedan now listed for $3,195; MeasuringWorth puts its relative worth in 2025 dollars at $50,878. The rarer Custom Country Club two-door hardtop started at $3,338 (a relative worth of $53,155). These prices, which included the V-8 and automatic, but not a heater or radio, were in the same realm as the much more popular Buick Super pictured below.
1956 Buick Super four-door sedan / Bring a Trailer
1956 Buick Super four-door sedan / Bring a Trailer
For 1956, the Packard V-8 was expanded to 352 cu. in. The AMC version still used a two-barrel carburetor rather than the four-barrel available on the Packard versions, but it now had 220 gross horsepower, so a 1956 Ambassador Custom Eight was probably a bit faster than the ’55.
Packard-made 352 cu. in. Jetfire V-8 in a 1956 Nash Ambassador Custom / Mecum Auctions
The blue-and-white car pictured here has power brakes, a radio, and the optional integrated heater and air conditioning (which added a hefty $395), so it probably had an original list price of close to $4,000.
1956 Nash Ambassador Custom with radio and Weather Eye integrated heater/air conditioner / Mecum Auctions
The Continental kit cost $125, money that would have been better spent on power steering, which the blue-and-white car doesn’t have.
1956 Nash Ambassador Custom Eight four-door sedan / ClassicCars.com
Although the Rambler was increasingly AMC’s bread and butter, the Nash Ambassador Custom was still the top of the line, so its interior trim was lavish:
1956 Nash Ambassador Custom Eight four-door sedan / ClassicCars.com
The brochure said the interior was “color-keyed from floor mat to headlining,” both front …
1956 Nash Ambassador Custom sedan / Mecum Auctions
… and back:
1956 Nash Ambassador Custom sedan / Mecum Auctions
The engine-turned dashboard trim was literally dazzling:
1956 Nash Ambassador Custom sedan / Mecum Auctions
The instrument panel was very fancy as well, although as with many ’50s cars, it ranks higher as an objet d’art than it does for legibility:
1956 Nash Ambassador Custom / Volo Auto Sales
We mustn’t forget the most famous, or infamous, of all Nash features: the legendary “airliner reclining seats,” which could be folded down to form a serviceable bed. Reclining seats were standard on the Ambassador Custom, a $23 option on lesser models.
Reclining seats in a 1956 Nash Ambassador Custom / Volo Auto Sales
Nash advertised the folding seats as forming “a luxurious chaise lounge or a day bed that is ideal for napping children,” and offered optional Twin Travel Bed mattresses for camping. However, the reclining seats also made a big Nash a premier date night vehicle, which parents of teenagers came to regard with suspicion.
1956 Nash brochure / Old Car Manual Project Brochure Collection
Nash boasted of the huge trunk of the big cars, which offered 17 square feet of floor space, but if you wanted to use that space, you were well advised to skip the Continental kit, which made accessing the trunk an ordeal.
1956 Nash Ambassador Custom Eight sedan with optional Continental kit / ClassicCars.com
Most American cars of this time, even Chrysler, had body-on-frame construction, but Nash had been wedded to unit construction since 1949. This contributed to the company’s styling dilemma (unit construction makes major redesigns significantly more expensive to tool), but the big Nash or Hudson models were quite stout for this era. AMC boasted that a full-size Nash unit body was more than twice as stiff as an ordinary body-on-frame car, reducing squeaks and rattles as well as offering “far greater life-saving safety to passengers.”
Like all 1949 and later Nashes, the 1956 Ambassador used unit construction / Volo Auto Sales
Nash used coil springs front and rear, high-mounted in front and very soft all around. Like Buick, Nash also used torque tube drive, which combined the axle and driveshaft into a single rigid assembly, with only a single universal joint. Together, this suspension provided a compliant ride at the expense of rather dramatic body lean.
Torque tube rear suspension of a 1956 Nash Ambassador Custom / Volo Auto Sales
Motor Trend (January 1956) described the ride and handling of the 1956 Ambassador like this:
Nash’s torque-tube drive, with coil springing at each wheel, moves car effortlessly thru normal driving conditions with little or no steering correction needed. Inherent softness of suspension means noticeable body heel-over in turns, and in hard cornering big Nash can become heavy on outside wheel. Lighter Statesman leans too, but, unlike Ambassador, it’s more prone to break traction at rear wheels than to hang on tenaciously.
Motor Trend recommended power steering, which was curiously rare on these cars: According to Automotive Industries, more than 60 percent of AMC buyers ordered power brakes in 1956 (much higher than the industry average), but only 7.5 percent ordered power steering.
Power brakes ($39) were very popular on AMC cars of this time, but power steering was not / Volo Auto Sales
Despite its eccentric, dated exterior styling, the Ambassador still had a lot to offer in 1956. However, styling counted for a lot in this class, and Nash’s case was probably not helped by ongoing doubts about AMC’s future. People who read the financial pages knew that Nash and particularly Hudson had been on the rocks, and while the Rambler was still doing okay, the possibility that AMC might not make it was still not off the table.
1956 Nash Ambassador Custom Eight four-door sedan / ClassicCars.com
What WAS off the table by 1956 was the prospect of AMC merging with Studebaker-Packard. Romney and Nance didn’t like each other, neither was amenable to a merger that would leave the other in charge, and their acrimony spoiled even some smaller deals. In 1955, Romney had asked if AMC could also buy Studebaker V-8s, which were smaller (though not much lighter) than the Packard engine, for use in the Rambler. Nance had declined, so in September, Romney informed Nance that AMC would no longer purchase Packard engines and transmissions after the 1956 model year. In April 1956, AMC added a new Ambassador Special (actually based on the shorter Statesman body) using the brand-new AMC V-8, which would replace the Packard-supplied V-8 for 1957.
Production of both the Packard V-8 and Twin Ultra-Matic transmission would cease after 1956, and Packard disposed of its Utica engine plant / ClassicCars.com
AMC didn’t sell many Packard-engined cars in 1956. Nash didn’t break out Ambassador sedan production by engine, but 1956 Ambassador four-door sedan production totaled only 3,885 cars (not all of which had V-8s), plus 796 Ambassador Custom hardtops. The Hudson Hornet Custom Line V-8 sold an additional 3,015 units. The big Nash and Hudson models would continue for one more year, but they just weren’t selling anymore. In December 1956, the AMC board voted to terminate both the Nash and Hudson brands after 1957, rebranding the company’s remaining compact cars as Rambler. The Ambassador name would return for 1958, but it would be a long-nose Rambler, not a Nash, and about 9 inches shorter than before.
1958 Rambler Ambassador Custom Country Club hardtop with 327 cu. in. AMC V-8 / Classic Cars for Sale
This makes the blue-and-white 1956 Ambassador a rare survivor, and in unusually good condition for an almost 70-year-old car. (Although the photos are from three different sales listings, I’m reasonably sure they’re all for the same car, which had only 40,000 miles when it was offered at Mecum in 2013.) To modern eyes, it doesn’t look that much stranger or more kitschy than the contemporary Buick except for the Continental kit, and those are almost as popular with modern collectors as other tacky period ephemera, like external spotlights and curb feelers.
1956 Nash Ambassador Custom Eight four-door sedan / Mecum Auctions
I often see CC commenters lamenting that modern cars all look the same. Cars like these mid-’50s big Nashes are a reminder that “different” often reads as “weird,” and when it comes to purchases as expensive as a new car, weirdness can be a very tough sell, even if the results are highly memorable.
Related Reading
Curbside Classic: 1956 Nash Ambassador Eight Custom – Christmas In July (by Perry Shoar)
Curbside Classic: 1957 Nash Ambassador – Getting Its Kicks on Route 66 (by Jason Shafer)
Curbside Classic: 1950 Nash Statesman Airflyte: Did Somebody Say Bathtub? (by Tom Klockau)
1950 Nash Rambler Convertible Landau: Adorable, Thrifty, But Not Cheap (by me)
1950 Nash Rambler Custom Station Wagon – The Original Luxury Compact Turns 75 (by me)
Car Show Classic: 1953 Nash Statesman – AMC’s DNA (by J P Cavanaugh)
Curbside Classic: 1947 Nash Super 600 – A Unibody Pioneer (by Dave Saunders)
We had a ’61 (I think) Rambler convertible. If you got the convertible, you had to order power steering. The reason: the power steering hydraulic pump powered the folding top.
Styling is admittedly subjective, but I’ve never cared for the post-bathtub Nashes, and they got worse every year. I don’t care for the bathtub Nashes either.
To be honest, the big `55-57 Ambassadors are probably my favorites of that period. You could load up an Ambassador Custom sedan with extras making it comparable to more of a senior Buick with power windows, steering brakes, and AC. Just once I got to ride about a mile in the back seat of a `56 Ambassador sedan–like riding on a cloud! Jet smooth and very comfy! But unfortunately, styling that was 3-4 years old already.
Those ’56-’57 taillights always reminded me of clenched fists. The ’52-’55 looked like Jesus crosses when lit. (Saw a few of these on the streets as a kid in Kenosha back in the day.)
The entire line of these, ’52-’57, are (to me) so colossally vile to espy that I get hope.
You see, Pinninfarina designed some of the most seductive cars in history, quite a few of them across this period. The fact that the gods can fall to earth so hard is a balm to the soul of a mortal, especially one – me – who has trouble sketching so much as square.
I don’t even want one as an amusing, rare classic (with that spare money I don’t have and never will). They’re awful. It cannot have been just the collapsing brand problem that plagued the sales, (though I’ll confess, I had no idea that the war-footing economy had any relevance to the troubles, doubtless multiplied by the savage big three discount war that also ensued). Surely, even then, folk said “Mmm, I just don’t like it”?
But you’re dead right about styling in a given time, Aaron. This old barge is no less outlandish than anything over-angried (and dog ugly) currently up for grabs, and when we see an outlier even worse than the current stuff, we don’t like it. Cybertruck, anyone (politics aside)?
If you’re suggesting Farina styled these cars, that’s not the case. Farina submitted a proposal for the ’52 restyle but it was rejected by Nash as being too “European”. Unfortunately there are no images of that prototype to be found. I would love to see it.
These cars were styled in-house by Ed Andersen. Presumably some stylistic elements of the Farina proposal were incorporated, but without seeing it, we may never know.
The revised ’55 front end did get the Farina-designed grille with enclosed headlights. See my comment below.
I did find these very amusing in the early ’70s in a deliciously ironic way. And I still do.
Fortunately, Justy, these only sold in tiny numbers down here. I only saw one ’52-4 Nash as a kid, and have never seen a ’55-7. So they were always easy to avoid. Aussies were good at avoiding Nashes.
What a shame they didn’t produce what il Maestro actually designed.
That PF prototype was submitted to Nash in 1955 and could have been the basis of a new large Nash for 1957 or 1958, but not for these earlier cars. Unfortunately photos of the prototype that PF submitted for the new 1952 Nash seem not to exist.
I have a soft spot for these, mostly just because they are so different from the Big 3 cars of the time. A friend of mine picked up one of those (not sure now exactly which version) in Iowa in 1972 from an older couple for peanuts, and it was still in excellent condition, having always been garaged and pampered. I rode in it once or twice; it was very floaty indeed. I suspect the shocks may well have been original, but for tooling down Iowa’s straight country roads it was delightful.
You didn’t mention the rather unique new front end restyle of the ’55 which brought the headlights down low into the front grille. Even though Nash rejected Farina’s proposal for the ’52 cars, that front end is very much their work. It first appeared on Farina’s 1952 restyle of the Nash Healey (below), and was then adopted for the ’55 Nash.
Farina also did a proposal for a new sedan in 1955, which was quite handsome indeed, but of course AMC had decided to drop the big cars.
I kind of like the ’52-’54 EXCEPT for the enclosed front wheels. From some angles the car looks fine, but a 3/4 view from the side looks bad. Other than that, they certainly don’t look much frumpier than a ’53 Buick, Olds or Chrysler. George Mason may have been savvy in many ways, but his insistance on the skirted front wheels was a major blunder.
The ’55-’57 models were fighting a losing battle with major updating from the big three. Romney made the right (and lucky) bet with the Rambler as the market for mid range cars collpsed in ’58.
Mason came from Kelvinator, so while he had a pretty good head for merchandising, I don’t think he was what you’d call a car guy. From a “pure” merchandising standpoint, I can see where he was coming from: It was a readily identifiable signature feature that didn’t cost much of anything to implement and that could be carried through various different restyling cycles. However, it obviously made more sense in a “decorating an appliance” sense than for a car one would actually drive.
Every time I start into a fever dream about how Studebaker would have been more successful in the 50s with a genuine big car, I am reminded of how Nash tried it and failed just as spectacularly as Studebaker did with its narrow, lightweight President.
I still struggle with these. I love the dimensions and the posh ride, but I just can’t get past the styling. Yes, an odd sentiment from someone who would happily adopt a 61 Plymouth or a 62 Dart.
I suspect I would need to be back in 1956 as a 50 year old man in order to understand that front end of the Ambassador. Either that or be George Mason’s son as I do not get what they saw in 1956 that called that face attractive.
I think the ’55 was better — as Paul mentioned above, the inset headlights were a Farina design idea first seen on the later Nash-Healey, which WAS actually by Farina, and quite attractive. The ’56 suffered from the need to make it look different for the sake of difference.
The first family car I remember was a 1950 NASH Ambassador (almost identical to the 49 shown).Say what you will, but that NASH was purchased in summer of 1950 (list $3,200) and provided comfortable, powerful performance and a bit of luxury until November of 59 with only routine maintenance. As for subsequent styling, IMO it was as good as or better than others, until Chryslers 55s. Ironically the NASH was traded for a 55 DeSoto. Another unfortunate casualty. This 56 in tri tones Is so much better than today’s monochromatic SUVS and Crossovers. But I’m well known for my *TOO MUCH is NEVER TOO MUCH * philosophy ! I’d love to park this in my garage.
Without the continental, spare and the “back porch”, bumper; the blue “56” is awesome.
The colors on the ’52” are great.The style is just a visual, bust.
The front wheel openings on the ’55 and ’56 full-size Nash still look too small to allow the front wheels to turn much. The ’57s appear a bit larger and maybe adequate in some situations.
The fold-down bed looks too lumpy to be comfortable, with none of the three main sections really flat.
I can’t say I’ve ever tried it, but the lumpiness in the photos may be in part a function of there being no load to squash the three sections together. Also, Nash did sell a travel mattress that could be laid over them.
The wheel openings were still restrictive — my recollection is that removing the front skirts was a last-minute change because Mason had been so opposed to it — but the specs show that it was enough to reduce the turning circle by about 3 feet, so it was not in vain.
These early nameplates like Nash contributed in a major way to the evolution of the automotive industry. Their innovative designs and features being morphed and adopted into the major brands, such as the “weather eye” temperature control helped to advance a safer and more comfortable driving experience.
However, the “look” of these vehicles: it is difficult to imagine how these oddballs made it into production.
These cars were far out of the styling mainstream, which is often not a good thing. When I saw one that day in 1971, I was just fascinated by all the odd detailing.
By the time the 1955 came around they were starting to look better, but the ’53 (I think) I saw that day stuck in my memory – not for beauty, but for being such an odd duck.
The windsheild and cowl has been redone for ’55 to avoid the weird glass shape of the ’52-54 – must’ve been horrible to replace the glass on one of those. But they still kept the high-crowned roof from the early fifties, which made it look a bit top-heavy. I believe they lowered this for ’57.
The lack of front wheel arches just seemed so unnatural, and results in the wheels having to be mounted too far inboard, which looks really pecuilar from certain angles. You don’t expect a Pontiac Wide-track look yet, but even compared to other fifties cars I saw as a kid, this looked weird.
Then there’s the strange extrusion on the lower bodysides, joining up the front and rear bumpers, adding visual weight down low. I don’t think anyone else was doing that back then. The odd detailing under the windows. Everyone seemed to be doing odd things with chrome, so this Nash doesn’t look too strange in that regard. And I kind of like that front end. Not the rear though.
The bathtub Nash had been a reasonable extrapolation of then-current styling trends. These were just weird, on the road to nowhere.
Lovely interior on this one though; the fabric makes me think of a period swimming pool.
So, Nance didn’t like Romney and, after George Mason died, that ended any idea of Packard merging with Nash.
But Nance thought merging Packard with Studebaker was a better idea? That effectively ended Packard’s future. Nance must have been some piece of work to think Studebaker was a better place for Packard than Nash.
Until early 1954, Nance was ambivalent about the need for ANY merger. He had sort of tentatively examined potential mergers with Nash, Studebaker, and Hudson, but the Studebaker-Packard merger was then pushed very hard by Lehman Brothers, which had an interest in Studebaker and a seat on the Studebaker board. The Packard board was not keen on Hudson unless they could buy it cheap, and while Nance continued tentative negotiations with Mason after the AMC merger was announced, the board declined to hear Mason’s formal presentation, having been convinced by Lehman Brothers that Studebaker was a better bet (based largely on a sense of mounting desperation and a wildly optimistic, totally unrealistic appraisal of potential merger benefits).
Nance was hardly above criticism in how it all shook out, but because the merger proposals involved complicated stock swaps, they were primarily a board decision rather than a management one. Also, because Packard and Studebaker didn’t get serious about merger discussions until both were in severe financial crisis, there was a lot of undue and ultimately irresponsible haste, including not ordering independent audits that would have discovered some rather dramatic book-cooking in South Bend about their losses (which were higher than projected) and their break-even (which was MUCH higher than they’d indicated).
Even after the Packard board approved the Studebaker merger, Nance was still interested in an AMC tie-up, but he was concerned that Studebaker-Packard was in a weak negotiating position, and he was already taking heat from stockholders who were not happy about the terms of the Studebaker merger. Romney did make one last tentative overture to Nance about “cooperative relationships,” which Nance rebuffed, but even if Romney and Nance had been friendlier, the prospects of a further merger did not look good: Mason spent the last months of his life scrambling to get AMC’s house in order, and Romney felt, probably rightly, that Studebaker-Packard was trouble they didn’t need.
As for the antagonism between Nance and Romney, it definitely went both ways. James Arthur Ward remarked:
Even when Studebaker-Packard finally came to AMC with hat in hand in March 1956, Romney flatly shut down any possibility of an AMC-S-P merger.
The only successful merger was Kaiser buying Willys. Kaiser did the smart thing, eliminating its own car that had failed in the market and basically turning into a holding company for Willys.
I couldn’t see a big benefit for Nash in buying Hudson. They didn’t use the factories, and didn’t really need more dealers.
As a kid I read a book by the late automotive author Ralph Stein who commented on the new Rolls Royce Silver Shadow, saying something along the lines of that he wasn’t worried about the future of Rolls Royce, but they’d be a lot better off if they got rid of that Nash body. You can see a certain resemblance.