The second-generation Oldsmobile Toronado, offered from 1971 to 1978, has been much-criticized for its me-too styling, which shamelessly imitated the previous-generation Cadillac Eldorado. For 1977, Olds tried to shore up interest with a new Toronado XS model, whose new wraparound rear window strongly recalled another older model — not a Cadillac, but the once-controversial 1947 Studebaker.
Offered in 1977 and 1978, the final two years of the second-generation Toronado, the Toronado XS was a peculiar compromise. Oldsmobile had originally hoped to offer a more radical new model called the Toronado XSR, which was to feature not only a dramatic wraparound backlight, but also a unique T-top roof. T-tops, sometimes called “hatch roofs,” were just starting to appear as a regular production option at that time — Oldsmobile and Pontiac offered them on the A-body intermediates and the Pontiac Firebird in 1976 and 1977. T-tops would become a mainstay of some sporty car lines into the 1990s.
However, Oldsmobile had planned to go them one better with power T-tops whose glass panels could retract automatically into the center roof bar rather than having to be manually removed and stowed. Olds worked with the American Sunroof Corporation (ASC) to make this work, and were apparently so convinced that the XSR would make a big splash that airbrushed images of the new model were prominently featured in early Oldsmobile advertising for the 1977 model year. This wasn’t just an stray brochure or two — there was a whole host of print ads in the fall of 1976, proclaiming the Toronado XSR “so dramatic in design it causes excitement wherever it is seen” and calling it a “true classic — for those who cannot be content with the ordinary.”
Unfortunately for collectors, Oldsmobile eventually decided that the power T-tops were not production-ready, and officially canceled the XSR in March 1977. Some older sources, including a woefully misguided 1980 Automobile Quarterly item, claim that the XSR was offered in production for a while before cancellation, which is not true: There was only the one prototype, a Firethorn red car that ASC later bought in hopes of interesting other automakers in the concept. (ASC subsequently built two similar Eldorado conversions.) The Toronado prototype survived and finally ended up in collector hands, although it eventually needed an extensive restoration because the prototype T-top system didn’t have any of the drainage tubes that would be been installed on production versions.
While the XSR was stillborn, Oldsmobile went ahead with a less-complex special edition called Toronado XS, which was essentially the XSR with an Astroroof (power glass moonroof) in place of the T-tops. The XS became available during the 1977 model year, priced at $2,550 over the cost of a regular Toronado Brougham, and continued into 1978, now priced at $2,700 more than the standard model.
I didn’t have any luck finding behind-the-scenes discussions of the styling development of the XSR/XS; this model gets only scant mention in Setting the Pace, Oldsmobile’s 1976 official history, and most articles about it are primarily interested in the abortive power T-top roof. However, if I ever get a chance to ask the designers, my key question would be, “You did know that this was gonna look like a ’47 Studebaker, right?”
The 1947 Studebaker was the first all-new American car to reach production after World War 2. Its development was convoluted and contentious: Its basic themes originated with the design team of Raymond Loewy Studios, which was then under contract to Studebaker. However, the actual production design was done by one of Loewy’s staff, moonlighting for Studebaker without Loewy’s knowledge or authorization.
Here’s how it came about. In 1943–1944, one of Loewy’s lead automotive designers was Virgil M. Exner Sr. (above right), who later became chief stylist for Chrysler. Exner was very unhappy with Loewy, whose international fame led him to claim sole authorship of all his firm’s automotive work, even though Loewy did not actually design any of it himself. (Loewy loved cars, but he really couldn’t draw them.) Studebaker engineering VP Roy Cole also resented Loewy, whose firm was charging Studebaker a lot of money for work Cole felt should be done in-house. In spring 1944, Cole approached Exner, who was working on the Loewy studio’s design for the 1947 car, and asked if he would be interested in going around Loewy and working directly with Studebaker chassis engineer Gene Hardig to create an alternative proposal. It was that one that the Studebaker board selected for production, leading to years of arguments about who came up with which elements. (Exner’s colleague Bob Bourke, pictured second from right in the above photo, said both proposals were primarily Exner’s work, although Loewy — who inevitably fired Exner over this escapade — insisted that Exner’s alternative/independent design was inferior.)
The all-new 1947 Studebaker line, which arrived in the spring of ’47, was offered in several different body styles on three different wheelbases, but the one people talked about was the new five-passenger coupe, which Studebaker later dubbed “Starlight.” (It wasn’t yet called that in 1947.)
Its four-piece wraparound backlight was very unusual for the ’40s, and it made a big stir. The automotive writer Maurice Hendry later recalled that at the time, he thought “it must have flown in with Buck Rogers at the wheel.” Popular comedians like Jack Benny made fun of this car, and it acquired a variety of nicknames, like “the coming-or-going Studebaker.” (During its development, there had been serious consideration of giving the car a rear engine, which had a lot to do with why it looked the way it did.)
Such ribbing shouldn’t be taken to mean that the new Studebaker line was a flop, because it wasn’t: Production of all body styles totaled 161,498 for 1947, 186,526 for 1948, and 129,303 for 1949 (including Canadian and export sales), which was very good business for Studebaker. Buyers did prefer the less outlandish-looking four-door sedan, but the coupe sold 83,688 cars in three years, and its publicity value was considerable. So, while it was a controversial design, it wasn’t a disastrous one.
From our standpoint, the cars of 1947 were a long time ago now, and at this point are more or less forgotten except by specialists. However, when Oldsmobile stylists penned the Toronado XSR/XS roofline, the 1947 Studebaker was still very much within living memory, even though there were no longer that many on the road. (There were fewer than 23,000 pre-1960 Studebaker cars still registered as of July 1, 1975.) An analogy that might be more familiar to us today would be if some modern automaker rolled out a new model that aped the distinctive front-end design of the 1990s Dodge/Plymouth Neon. Even if you haven’t seen a first-generation Neon in a while, you probably remember its cheerful “face” and the famous 1994 “Hi” ads that introduced it.
By the mid-’70s, the Oldsmobile Toronado was in some need of a reintroduction. The second-generation model had sold quite well through 1973, but by 1975, it was back in the same lackluster under-30,000-units-per-year realm as the first-generation car, whose sales GM had found disappointing. Oldsmobile had had some luck positioning the second-gen Toronado as a discount-store version of the Cadillac Eldorado, but after the 1973–1974 oil embargo, buyers still in the market for one of these big, thirsty personal luxury cars were more likely to just buy an Eldorado, or a Lincoln Continental Mark. An all-new downsized Toronado wasn’t due till the 1979 model year, so the point of the XSR/XS project was to pep up interest in the existing Toronado until then.
Aside from the motorized T-top concept, Oldsmobile had another new toy to play with for these cars: a patented Libbey-Owens-Ford Glass Co. process that used a heated wire to bend glass at much sharper angles than had previously been feasible for automotive applications.
This was the same technology Chevrolet used to create the backlight of its 1977 Impala/Caprice coupes.
However, the Chevrolet coupes had the distinct advantage of being an all-new design, whereas the new rear glass of the Toronado XSR/XS was an obvious afterthought, aside from its Studebaker resemblance.
Once you see the resemblance, you won’t be able to un-see it.
The Astroroof, standard on the XS, wasn’t as much of a conversation piece as the power T-tops would have been, but in those days, a power moonroof was a prestigious and rather pricey option in itself. However, it wasn’t an XS exclusive; you could order the Astroroof on the regular Toronado Brougham for $978.
I previously found an ultra-low-mileage 1974 base Toronado with few options other than a radio and air conditioning, which seemed rather plain inside for its price. This 1978 Toronado XS does NOT have that problem. The base price of a 1978 Toronado Brougham was now $8,899, with the XS starting at $11,599. Both now came with the obligatory velour upholstery, and the standard equipment list had expanded to include power windows and Four-Season air conditioning. This car has a bunch of additional options, including leather seating surfaces, automatic climate control, cruise control, and Twilight Sentinel headlight control, which probably pushed its original sticker price to at least $13,000.
Whether you love or hate the sanguinary hue of this car’s leather upholstery (which was also available in several soberer colors), the Toronado interior was now more in keeping with the indulgent expectations of its class.
For comic relief, the Toronado had a fuel economy gauge, a ridiculous post-embargo addition intended to suggest Oldsmobile’s commitment to better gas mileage. If there was nothing good on the radio (this car doesn’t have a tape deck), you could amuse yourself watching the economy gauge bob as the fuel level inexorably dropped. The Toronado now had a 403-cid engine in place of the thirstier old 455, but the EPA credited it with just 13 mpg city.
However, the Toronado XS flew in the face of ’70s trends by offering plenty of interior light, in an era when the formal roofs of a lot of luxury hardtops still tended to make the back seat a kind of crushed-velour survivalist bunker. The width and position of the XS roof pillars meant you probably still couldn’t see out very much unless you craned your neck around, and at some times of day, it might be entirely TOO bright, but was less cave-like than some rivals.
However, there was still embarrassingly little space in back for a car this size. Other than its flat floor, the Toronado really didn’t gain anything in packaging efficiency from its front-wheel drive.
I’m ambivalent about the Toronado XS from an aesthetic standpoint. It was certainly more interesting to look at than the regular 1977–1978 Toronado, which was just bland, but I don’t think the new roof design really came together without the intended T-top. It did draw attention, though, which was its main purpose.
Oldsmobile sold 2,713 of these cars for 1977 (plus the one XSR prototype) and another 2,453 for 1978. However, this model didn’t return for the third-generation Toronado that arrived for 1979, proving that even in American in the ’70s, there wasn’t always a market for unbridled XS.
Related Reading
In-Motion Classic: 1977 Oldsmobile Toronado Brougham – An Acrostic Poem (by Joseph Dennis)
Curbside Classic: 1977 Oldsmobile Toronado XS — Cruising California (by William Stopford)
CC Conundrum: 1977 Oldsmobile Toronado Brougham & ’77 Cadillac Coupe DeVille – Quantity Vs. Quality? (by Joseph Dennis)
Curbside Classic: 1978 Oldsmobile Toronado Brougham – Here Come ol’ Flattop (by GGH06)
I will confess that I had completely forgotten that the roof/glass treatment on the XS was in addition to the regular model – I had thought all late Toros were of the XS style. Which shows how little attention I was paying to these by the end of their run.
Was calling it the XS an inside joke at Oldsmobile? Really, I found all Toronados to be excessive after maybe 1974 or so. Just look at the front end on the silver car near the end – is there another real production car with a nose that looks more like the Wagon Queen Family Truckster of movie fame?
The Studebaker angle is interesting. From what I had read, Exner had run the day-to-day operations of Loewy’s Studebaker studio from the time he was brought on before the war, while Loewy was constantly traveling between jobs and would only come to South Bend for a few days a month. Exner (and later Bourke) had done virtually all the design work, but under Loewy’s control. That two or three year period after Loewy fired Exner, when Exner ran an in-house studio at the same time Loewy’s studio was in place is interesting and under-documenteed. Exner deserves more credit in the Studebaker world than he gets.
Interesting article, I had always associated Exner with Chrysler and never focused much on the dynamics at Studebaker and Loewy.
It’s a pity the XSR was never put in production, I find it very interesting, and it would have at least provided an option for those who wanted open air driving but were not interested in the( very few) imports available on the market at the time.
The XS is not bad looking to my eye (would be better without the half vinyl roof, that I believe is a poor visual match for the unique rear glass) but it costs as much as an Eldorado, and with it’s unique looks I doubt it could interest anyone who wanted something less eye.catching than a Cadillac
Toronado like Studebaker is hilarious !
I still remember seeing these Studebaker, and my Mom using the “are they coming or going” expression. I was an adult by the time the Toronado XS came out but have no memories of them. A car that was even further off my radar than the Eldorado, which was at least a common sight then, and the epitome of excess, even if not an XS.
I love both the Studebaker and the Toronado. Here is a what if: 1977 Thunderbird XS! The roof is almost meant to have the wrap around rear glass.
A long overdue comparison that I had hoped to do ages ago (like in 2010) when I spotted an XS parked near a rural house. I intended to go there and knock on the door, but I kept procrastinating and then it was gone.
I have always been a huge fan of the Studebaker coupe, but make mine a Bullet-nose. Not a fan of the rather bland front end of Exner’s version.
Neat comparison. It’s even closer to the ’50 Studie on both ends. The ad with the old airplane evokes the ’50 directly.
I was never much of a fan of these cars. They are enormous on the outside and not terribly roomy on the inside. They were very rare in Canada and I can’t recall ever seeing one in the wild.
No doubt I will see one today due to the CC effect.
I really think the XS roofline almost makes these second gen Toronados compelling, but I like the Studebaker too. So much better than the cookie cutter landau too with opera windows of the standard car. It’s faint praise but I also appreciate Ford’s regurgitation of the 50s basket handle roof for the Thunderbird in this period, any effort to break the mold is welcome. The Tbird though did get T tops as an option eventually and it was a cool look, shame the XSR never made it to the masses
Aaron, entertaining article and really got my old brain cells firing. It was 1956, and Dad bought a used 1951 Studebaker Commander coupe. Why, I have no idea? We already had two 1955 Oldsmobile’s. But to me at five years old, this Stud looked like something out of the future, but I remember the interior was plain compared to our Oldsmobile’s. We were stationed at an Air Force Base somewhere in California, Dad drove the Stud to work, door opened, he fell out. I don’t know why but Dad was sent to Walter Reed Army Hospital in Maryland and Mom, brother, me, went to WR in Maryland. I distinctly remember security issues as that was the same time Eisenhower was admitted to WR.
I have a fond memory of the Studebaker as it saved my Dads life. He wasn’t that injured falling out of the Studebaker, at WR they discovered he had bladder cancer. Cancer was treated until the late 1990s, and it wasn’t the cancer that killed him. In hindsight, that Studebaker with a faulty door allowed my Dad to live many decades longer.
Excellent review of the 1977-78 Toronado XS. The ad shown describes me: “I have never been willing to settle for ordinary”. I don’t remember this car back in the day, but yes, it would have attracted me for being different. And the Carmine red interior, WOW. The prototype XSR must have had the roof panels move backwards into the roof. I would like to learn more.
As the ad explains, the panels moved laterally inboard, not backward. There’s a feature on the prototype in the June 2003 Collectible Automobile, although its photos of the mechanism aren’t as illuminating as one would like.
I read somewhere that the thing that ultimately killed the proposed power t-top option of the XSR was simply cost; it would have taken the already hefty price of a Toronado so equipped up to (and even greater than) that of an Eldorado. If accurate, it would have been a tough sell, not to mention potentially canablizing sales.
Combined with the complexity and likely trouble-prone potential of the system, GM wisely nixed the whole idea. I don’t remember where I saw it, but a more in-depth discussion of the system sure didn’t look all that great as the t-tops had to fold on top of each other as they retracted into the center of the roof. Not to mention that the size of the panels were much narrower than regular, pop-off t-tops, reducing the open-air benefit.
The Studebaker-like wraparound backlight of the XSR was already kind of gimmicky, in and of itself.
The retail price of the XSR had already been announced: It was $2,998 more than a 1977 Toronado Brougham, or $448 more than the eventual XS. According to former ASC employees, what finally killed it were that Oldsmobile decided the assembly costs were going to be too high because the components were too far out of tolerance (which I assume meant it was going to take a lot of individual fussing and adjustment to make sure the panels actually fit and would open and close).
To learn that Raymond Loewy didn’t actually style some of my favorite Studebakers himself is about as shocking to me as Oldsmobile having put the cart before the horse with those XSR advertisements. Just wow. To all of this. Great article.
Bill Bourke said Loewy was a fine graphic designer, but not an automotive designer. “He could swing a script right in front of your eyes. He couldn’t draw automobiles — not at all. He was just ridiculous as far as cars were concerned, and he knew it.”
Yes, these Toronados did look all too much like an Eldorado, so can see why they sought to distance the two, even at the rsik of the XS/XSR looking rather strange.
The big problem I have with the design (laughably appropriate name aside!) is the big thick B-pillar. It just sits there like a slab of masonry, somehow drawing the eye. On the Studebaker the pillar is visually thinner and sloped, contributing to a feeling of forward motion; the mass is lower down in the design. You don’t get that with the Oldsmobile; it just sits there, heavily perpendicular, visually anchoring the car in place. Rather like something pinned on a notice board: Notice this car!
It’s almost more architectural than automotive.
Somehow the roof just doesn’t go with the rest of the design, and the sixties-throwback hip line beginning vertically under the forward end of the glass doesn’t help either.
Strange car.
I think the pillar treatment looked better with the T-tops — without them, the visual center of gravity is thrown off.
Before the Toronado, the Studebaker rear windows have inspired some aftermarket specialists/coachbuilders like Derham who did this 1948 Dodge Custom coupe with the rear window inspired from Studebaker.
https://www.supercars.net/blog/1948-dodge-custom-derham-coupe/
I’m not an Olds 403 expert, but I’m skeptical of the “new lighter weight” version. Did that mean plastic valve covers? Aluminum air cleaner housing? Surely Olds did not do a major weight-reduction on a V8 that was soon to be out of existence!
I didn’t say that they did, just that the 403 was marginally less thirsty than the 455.
The 403 was a “small block”; a 350 with larger bores and the block had windowed main webs, all of which undoubtedly made it lighter than the 455.
I had to look it up, but Oldsmobile said that the 403 was about 90 lb lighter than the 455. It had the lower deck height of the 350, which was already somewhat lighter than the 455, but both the 403 and the 1977 and later 350 also had windowed main-bearing webs, as Paul said, and removed of the webs between the main-bearing bores and the oil pan rails to save some more weight. The bores of the 403 were conjoined to allow the 4.35-inch bore in the existing 4.625-inch bore centers.
Two of my favorite car names: the Toronado XS and the Geo Prism. So where was the Yugo Screw Yourself?
Were all Toronados Front Wheel Drive ?
Can any warbird buffs tell whose vintage P38 (late model J or L) that was? Not many survived the War compared to other types. Two things in common: Lots of rear visibility, and both had GM engines.
If anyone is looking for a great looking XS there’s a fellow in my area selling a beautiful one in New Yorks Hudson Valley locale…