[ First Published on 31 August 2016; revised, chopped up, re-upholstered and much augmented in May 2019. ]
In the UK and France, many cars were produced as Talbots throughout the 20th century. (And yes, it really follows from yesterday’s Simca episode, so read that one first, if you haven’t already.) So, what image does the name “Talbot” conjure up for you? Stylish British drop-top? Swoopy French streamliner? Blue grand prix car? Unloved ‘80s econobox? All of the above?
In fact, Darracq were established in 1898 – well before Talbot. Here’s to truth in advertising!
It’s difficult to be more blue-blooded than Talbot. It was founded in 1903 by *holds breath* Major Sir Charles Henry John Chetwynd-Talbot, 20th Earl of Shrewsbury, 20th Earl of Waterford, 5th Earl Talbot, 5th Viscount of Ingestre, 5th Baron Dynevor, KCVO. So Charlie here began a joint-venture with French car-maker Adolphe Clément to produce Clément-Talbots in Britain. In 1920, Clément-Talbot joined forces with Darracq, a British-controlled carmaker located near Paris, and Wolverhampton-based Sunbeam to form the ill-fated (and ill-sounding) Sunbeam-Talbot-Darracq (STD) conglomerate.
French Talbot (1930) and British Talbot (1932): little in common, except an engine or two
Little effort was made to rationalize production: French-built Talbot-Darracqs (just called Talbot after 1922), British Talbots and Sunbeams were completely different cars. This quickly became an issue, given that Talbot name worked just as well in French. There were now two completely different Talbots on either side of the English Channel.
The solution: the French cars usually went as Darracq in British-dominated markets, and Sunbeams usually dropped the “Talbot” on some of their Continental markets. Both Talbot logos were graphically unrelated and usually stated the car’s provenance (“London” versus “Paris” or “Suresnes”). This odd arrangement continued even in the post-war years. In the ’50s, some French cars were also badged as “Lago” in some markets, also for copyright reasons. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.
Postcards from a distant British cousin, 1947 and 1952
That case of STD turned septic and the conglomerate collapsed in 1934. The British assets were bought by Rootes; “Talbot-London” cars were soon merged with Sunbeam, creating Sunbeam-Talbot. For some reason, Rootes retired the Talbot marque in 1955 (read Roger Carr’s essential Rise, decline and fall of the Rootes group for more details.)
Meanwhile, in a western Parisian suburb, the other STD “Talbot” (which they pronounced “tal-boh”) factory was taken over by Antonio (a.k.a Antoine or Tony) Lago, who arrived on site mid-1934. Lago was another Italian polyglot, former UK importer for Isotta Fraschini and Director of the Wilson Self-Changing Gear Co. – but also STD board member.
Above: straight-8s (1930 pictured) were Deadly Sin number one; below: 1934 6-cyl. Fulgur
He sensed that moving toward sportier cars would provide both income and publicity. And since the other STD board members were happy to see the French side go away, a sweetheart deal was struck. Lago had to move quickly, and he did.
The cheapest 1936 Talbot was the 1.8 litre 6-cyl. 2-door “Baby-Dix.” Cute car, great name.
Under Lagos’ leadership, Talbot abandoned their slow-selling eights and improved their looks, including a return to the 1930 grille design that became a permanent fixture. From late 1935, production was refocused on an all-6-cyl. range, from the elegant ‘Baby’ saloon to the exclusive 4-litre sports coupé. By 1937, the previous generation cars were all gone, including the above Dix. Lago imposed a modicum of standardization that streamlined both chassis and body production, allowing his prices to be competitive.
There are countless stunning pre-war Talbots – they were beautiful in a factory body. But the one that caught the world’s attention was the T150 SS Goutte d’eau (teardrop), a small series of curvaceous coupés made on Talbot’s low-slung sports chassis by Figoni & Falaschi in the late ‘30s. It’s the usual ten-made-and-no-two-alike type of car, priceless rolling sculpture and all that.
1939 Talbot T23 Master 4 Litres (105 hp) 7/9-seater factory limousine
The late ‘30s were the best years for Talbot sales. A new Talbot Minor with a 2.3 litre 4-cyl. was launched in 1938 to replace the small sixes and the factory body became a little more rounded, but otherwise, things were ticking along quite nicely. Somehow, Lago had transformed the rather staid Talbot marque into something highly fashionable and desirable – and even profitable. Delahaye made the same play at the time with the 135/148 and also won big.
A “liberated” Figoni Teardrop Talbot in Paris, late 1944.
But then, that silly 1940-45 hiatus happened. None of the pre-war Talbot models would go back into production after 1945. Lago had spent the war years planning his next coup, and he struck as soon as possible.
At the October 1946 Paris Salon de l’Automobile, Talbot-Lago (as it was now known) introduced a new model, the 4.5 litre T26 Record sedan, coupé and convertible. The engine size had been determined by racing concerns, as 4500cc was the maximum allowed for un-blown engines at the time. In its standard Record spec, the twin-carb straight-6 provided 170 hp. The chassis was a straightforward affair: transverse leaf-sprung IFS, live rear axle with longitudinal leafs, hydraulic brakes and a Wilson 4-speed to keep your feet warm. Unlike the disastrous Delahaye 175, the T26 Record was a relative hit.
Factory-bodied T26s: a Belgian cabriolet and a Dutch “Coach surprofilé” (streamlined 4-seater coupé)
The chassis, gearbox and engine were very well put together; the T26 sounded good, ran very well, drank copious amounts of rationed fuel and it looked great. Talbot had always had an in-house body shop – unlike, say, Alvis or Delage, who had to rely on various coachbuilders. And the standard Talbot body, which came as a 4-door saloon, a 2-door cabriolet and two slightly different 4-seater coupés, was all most folks wanted.
Elegant T26 factory saloon used the same standard wheelbase (312cm / 123in.) as the 2-doors
The factory body was conservatively styled, but flawlessly executed and inexpensive. Others ordered the chassis only and picked a carrossier, as per the custom (body) of the era. In 1947 came the T26 Grand Sport (GS), a short-wheelbase triple-carb 190 hp version of the Record and the fastest (120 mph) European production car at the time.
The weird and occasionally wonderful world of Saoutchik’s post-war Talbots
The initial T26 GS were 2-seaters with a very short (265cm) wheelbase, which made for some odd proportions sometimes. Figoni had defined the essence of the late ‘30s Talbots in his Teardrop Lago SS, but in the late ‘40s, Saoutchik was the T26’s mad carrossier. But then, the GS was only available as a chassis anyway. What else could a millionaire ask for? A limo? There was also, as we can see above, a long wheelbase chassis available on request.
Here’s the one the French President ordered in 1950 – also by Saoutchik, naturellement.
Said requests for the LWB T26 were few, but significant – including the crowned heads of Saudi Arabia, Tunisia and Jordan. All opted for Saoutchik, as well. Not that other coachbuilders didn’t also try their hand at the best French chassis of the era, as there was little work coming from Delahaye, whose own 4.5 litre chassis had laid an egg. Some French coachbuilders were quick to adapt / recycle their designs to the Talbot’s specs.
Clockwise from top left: Figoni GS; Franay GS; Chapron saloon, GS and cabrio; Antem phaeton
This was one Figoni’s only jobs on the T26 GS. Chapron’s effort (bottom right) was more classic, but superbly executed. But there were also a few foreigners buying Talbots – and getting them bodied locally, as per the pre-war days.
Clockwise from top left: T26 by VandenPlas (Belgium), Ghia, Graber, Pennock, Farina, Oblin
Here are some of these exotic rarities. The Farina, displaying the longer (280cm) late GS chassis, was even displayed on Talbot’s own stand at the Grand Palais. My personal favourite is that Belgian 4-door – quite an unexpected car. But beyond coachbuilt beauties, the T26 also featured a racier side.
Above: Louis Rosier came 5th in this T26 at Silverstone in 1950; below: Levegh at Le Mans, 1952
The T26 GS was the basis for Talbot-Lago’s post-war grand prix car – and later Formula 1, when that competition began in 1950. The F1 engine was the same T26 block, but with a different head and a few other tweaks, pushing it to 260hp. Also in 1950, T26s came in 1st and 2nd at Le Mans – after years of unfruitful attempts, Lago was finally tasting victory. In 1951, as the F1 cars proved uncompetitive, the Talbot works team hoped to get another Le Mans win, but only managed 2nd and 4th place. Talbot came close again in 1952: well in the lead and almost 23 hours in, Levegh’s T26 barquette (designed by Charles Deutsch) broke its crankshaft…
The 2.7-litre ‘Baby’ T15 was introduced in 1949 to broaden the range. The new 4-cyl. was a reduced version of the T26’s 4.5 litre 6-cyl. engine, using the same principles (twin lateral camshafts, hemi head, etc.) and usually mated to a Wilson 4-speed, as per most Talbots for over a decade. It sat on a shorter wheelbase (295 cm) due to its shorter hood, but otherwise looked almost identical similar to its bigger stablemate.
From top left, coachbuilt T15s by Letourneur, Pourtout, Guilloré, Figoni, Barrou and Saoutchik
In 1949, Talbot-Lago made 225 cars — only around a dozen over the previous year. In 1950, production reached its (very modest) post-war peak: 433 T26 Record / GS and T15 Babys were sold, most of them with a factory body. But already, it was clear that the 4-cyl. T15 had badly missed its mark. To wit, Salmson sold 1000 of their deluxe saloons and cabriolets that year – Hotchkiss over twice that number. The Baby was a botched effort: relatively quick on paper, but actually loud, strangely fragile and heavy, it lacked a few elementary things, like a heater.
Just one last Saoutchik monster: 1948 T26 Record originally sold in Egypt; re-discovered in 2015
In April 1951, Talbot-Lago had to file for bankruptcy. The F1 and endurance scuderias, the underused Suresnes works, the failed T15 and the competition of Jaguar, Mercedes-Benz and others were too much to bear. Lago needed to sell about 1000 chassis per year to break even — he never got close. Production dipped to 80 cars.
Stabilimenti Farina’s T26 Record coupé at the Paris Motor Show, October 1949
But Tony Lago had made another fatal misstep. In an effort to modernize output, he decided to ditch the old 1946 factory body and, using the Farina special above as a source of inspiration, replaced it with the car below. This happened in the spring of 1951, just as people lost all confidence in Talbot due to their being in receivership.
Spring 1951: Talbot’s own “Pregnant Packard” moment… MY ‘53 cars (below) got a panoramic rear window
The situation was not improved by Lago deciding to focus only on 4-door saloons, losing the glamorous convertibles and coupés to outside coachbuilders. Unfortunately, the awkward and bulbous saloon body was still made in the traditional way, with wood-framed steel panels. It weighed 200 kg extra compared to the old body, which was all the Talbot needed. Lago really started panicking.
They grow up so fast…
A new 6-cyl. version of the Baby – still a 2.7 litre engine, with identical hp and other features, but with six pots – appeared in late 1951. The 4-cyl. Baby continued in parallel and the “new look” body was spread across the range to the T26, though some old-style saloons in stock were available at a discount price through to 1952. I might as well post this again, from the Salmson DS article:
All these cars (except the cheapest Talbot) remained for MY 1953, most with higher prices
Talbots were never cheap cars, but by 1950 they were already outdated, like most of this array of last-gasp saloons. The T26 was sort of designed as a traditional high-luxury item anyway, but the failure of the Baby and the new factory body were a huge drain on the company’s resources. Having two identical cars in 4- and 6-cyl versions (Armstrong Siddeley should have taken note) made no sense. Making the car uglier and heavier was downright suicidal. Nobody was interested – the “small” Talbot remained a dud.
At the 1953 Geneva Motor Show, Tony Lago was struck by this T26 GS convertible, designed and made by Talbot’s main importer in Switzerland, Hermann Graber (also known for his work with Alvis). Finally, something tasteful and modern to clothe the prestigious GS! Lago probably showed it to Carlo Delaisse, a stylist who worked for Chapron, while Talbot revised the GS chassis by adding another 10 cm of wheelbase and fine-tuning the engine up to 210 hp.
Delaisse used the idea of the Graber’s front end, but gave his coupé some hips that turned into delicate fins – a most stylish result. First shown in October 1953, the T26 GSL was at last a Talbot for the ‘50s. In contrast to the disastrous saloons, it was modern in the best sense of the word.
Swiss advert, 1954. The big Baby saloon was still in stock, but no longer advertised.
Which is lucky, because this was the last Talbot body ever designed: all subsequent cars look almost identical to this, though there were major changes underneath along the way. Business slowed to a crawl. In 1955, Talbot sold only 17 units – including the last Babys and saloons.
Paris, October 1955: the new T14 LS and a leftover T26 GSL
Tony Lago pulled all the stops, called in every favour and worked like a man possessed to make his last throw of the dice. The last Talbot-powered model, the 4-cyl. 2.5 litre T14 LS two-seater coupé, was announced in the summer of 1955, but production only really took place from early 1956. It was like a 7/8ths scale reduction of the T26 GSL in looks, but quite new otherwise: the wheelbase lost 40 cm, the new box-section chassis was lower and the body was now all-metal.
It was still not light enough, though: the all-new twin-carb 4-cyl. produced only 120 hp, propelling the 1000kg car at a respectable (but hardly extraordinary) 180 kph via a Pont-à-Mousson 4-speed manual. And still far too expensive. For the price of a Jaguar, one had to make do with two cylinders too few, less oomph and a somewhat Spartan interior, with miserly sliding windows to cut costs and increase elbow room. Only 54 were built in 1955-57, including two convertibles.
Last of the racers: 1956 Talbot-Maserati with GRP body by Pichon-Parat
Now, Talbot was running out of just about everything. The Le Mans cars were Maserati-engined antiques. The cost of casting engines was making things even more difficult. Tony Lago’s solution was to put BMW’s all-alloy V8 (de-bored to 2476cc, to keep the car in its tax band) and left-hand drive on the previous car, but call this one “Talbot America.” It seems about 12 were sold in 1957-58.
The very last avatar of the 1953 design, still looking pretty good in 1958…
Tony Lago had spent the whole of the ‘50s trying to save his factory, which was increasingly used for various subcontracting jobs to pay the bills, not to make Talbots. The factory was even churning out Isetta bubble cars now. In July 1958, his health failing and his business in tatters, Lago sold out to long-time neighbour, fellow paisan and Simca CEO Henri-Theodore Pigozzi. Simca half-heartedly assembled a literal final handful of Talbot-Simca coupés with a new interior, a raised roofline, and a welcome return to wind-down windows.
…but under the hood lay something quite unexpected.
BMW were allegedly never paid their V8s, so Simca had but one option for the engine: the Vedette’s pitiful ex-Ford 2.4 litre flathead V8. With a twin-carb set-up, they made it reach a pitiful 95 hp. Many reacted with disgust – this Frenchified V8-60 wasn’t meant to power a Talbot, they claimed. At FF 2.3m, it was the half the price of a Facel-Vega Excellence. Or of two Citroën DSs.
Exner Jr’s little atrocity was neither a Talbot, nor a star, nor a six.
The Talbot name was also used for a show car designed by Virgil Exner, Jr. The 1959 “Talbot Star Six”, whose Detroit-built body sat on an old Simca 8 chassis, was displayed on Talbot’s tiny stand at the Motor Show that October. It was the end of an era. As the very last Talbot coupés were finally sold in 1960, Tony Lago died, age 67.
Talbot was now gone from both sides of the Channel. As we saw yesterday and you likely know anyway because you made it this far, both Simca and Rootes, each owner of the Talbot name in their respective jurisdictions, eventually became part of Chrysler’s short-lived European empire. Chrysler never bothered with Talbot, despite rumors of resurrecting it.
In the summer of 1978, Peugeot bought Chrysler Europe (effective on January 1st 1979) and, in an attempt to do away with the Pentastar’s relatively bad image in the European market, hit upon the idea to resurrect the old Talbot name. The decision was announced in July 1979. Talbot was a prestigious nameplate that the Brits thought was British and the French thought was French. What could go wrong?
The Talbot-Ligier JS19 at the British GP (Brands Hatch), 1982
It was not the smoothest of takeovers, as we shall see. But at least in motorsport, there was a brief moment of success, despite the alarming levels of marque salad. Peugeot bought half of the Ligier F1 team and, with Matra’s V12 engine, the “Talbot-Ligier” JS17 scored two wins in the 1981 season. The follow-up JS19 was less successful, but at least the Talbot name was back in the sports pages.
Talbot also competed for the World Rally Championship manufacturers’ title, thanks to the spirited performance of the “Talbot-Sunbeam-Lotus.” Still a mess of brands, but a successful rally car that helped sustain interest in the model during its final years. These were the last 2-wheel-drive cars to hold the WRC title, in 1981.
British-built Avenger (ex-Hillman/Chrysler/Plymouth Cricket), soldiering on as a Talbot for MY 1980
Peugeot’s rebranding of Chrysler Europe cars was done haphazardly and on the cheap: the 1980 Talbot Sunbeam still sported a Pentastar on its grille, as did the Avenger and the 2-litre. But not the Horizon or the 1510 (ex Simca 1307/1308), who wore the circled T on their grilles early on. The now ancient 1100 had wisely never bothered with a grille logo, so at least those only needed new script badges.
Seems some countries got the memo a bit late…
Peugeot seemed to have had a rather amateurish touch, when it came to PR and advertising. For the 1980 model year (and into 1981), most of the French-made cars retained the “Simca” script on their trunk. In the press, the new marque was most often hyphenated – it was Talbot-Chysler, Talbot-Simca, Talbot-Matra. All of this did not help (re-)launch Talbot as a brand.
Well, what about a new model? A three-box variant of the Simca 1308 / Chrysler Alpine was quickly introduced in early 1980 as the Talbot Solara, complete with new Talbot styling cues. It was a mediocre effort, which chiefly cannibalized the sales of the Talbot 1510, as the hatchback was now called. But much worse was to follow.
Talbot range (barring a few geriatrics) in 1981
PSA had the worst financial year of its existence in 1980 – Talbot’s first full year. And it looked like ’81 wasn’t going to be a picnic, either. Peugeot-Citroën had done well in 1976-79. But even then, profitability went down as high inflation squeezed the margins. The group was pretty overstretched: 220,000 workers in 30 factories producing 26 different models of cars across three countries. The second Oil Shock really hit the automakers in 1980, and now overladen with Talbot, the PSA ship almost capsized. Until then, Talbot had been run at arm’s length. But in the summer of 1980, Peugeot decided to merge itself with Talbot to try and salvage something out of the mess they knew they were headed for.
So, funny twist: they built themselves this Talbot Titanic…
Peugeot inherited a poisoned present from Chrysler: the new C9 executive saloon. A big RWD job that would take over from the ageing 180/2-Litre, but aim higher. Peugeot had no use for this car, but Chrysler had made a ton of investment into it. It was basically ready, so it would go ahead.
Sochaux’s bean-counters intervened: gone was the planned transaxle and in went the 505’s much narrower rear axle; the transmission went back to the traditional layout. The front suspension was also Peugeot-sourced, as was the one thing Chrysler didn’t have: a V6.
The Talbot Tagora went on display at the 1980 Paris Motor Show – a full range, from the Simca-engined 2.2 litre (115 hp DIN) base model, to the Peugeot-sourced 2.3 litre (80 hp) “DT” Diesel to the swanky 2.7 litre (165 hp) PRV6 “SX” version, with snazzy alloy wheels.
Peugeot went for giving the Tagora a touch of exclusivity, so the V6 was twin-carbureted to its highest output yet: 165 hp DIN. Even the Renault Alpine was out-horsed. Actually, the one at the Motor Show was a 2.2 dressed as a V6, they didn’t even have one ready yet.
The Tagora only started hitting the dealerships in February 1981. But no matter, some would wait for it. Fastest French saloon? 6-cyl. Talbot? Must be great. The cheapest model, the 2.2 with a 4-speed, cost a fairly reasonable FF 59,000 – but the DT and the SX were north of 80,000. That put the Talbot Tagora squarely on the turf of BMW, Ford, Opel and Mercedes-Benz – not to mention the other three cars one could get with a PRV6…
Couldn’t find the price of the Volvo… this is a low estimate.
That Talbot never had a prayer. The big thirsty saloon market was badly hit by the 1979 Oil Shock, but really, the Tagora just pointed to where Talbot were going, along with the rest of the group. In France, PSA (Peugeot, Citroën, Talbot-Simca, Talbot-Matra) saw their market share go from 42.6% in 1979 to 30.3% in 1982; production was down by a third. But even if they had not hit economic headwinds, it’s difficult to envisage a world where the Tagora would have been a success. As such, it was an abject failure. (Similar words could be used for the Alfa and the Lancia…) Talbot sold fewer than 20,000 Tagoras in three model years – it was gone by late 1983.
The Tagora was extensively crash-tested, but not sin-proofed
This was a Deadly Sin indeed. Peugeot could ill-afford to take a bath like this. It was time to cut some losses, but would the patient survive? The launch of the Samba, a quick and easy 104 clone, met with some success. Alas, it was already too late.
The Alpine (a.k.a 1510 or 150) lasted longer in the UK, (ab)using more old Rootes names…
The remains of the Simca range disappeared, one after the other. The 1100 left in 1981, as did the 2-litre (though it lingered on in Diesel form in Spain until 1982); the 1510 vanished from the French range after 1982 (but carried on in the UK and Spain); the Matras quit in 1983… On the British side, the Avenger was pentioned off in 1982, a year after the Sunbeam. To counter this mass extinction, the only new addition was the Samba. Talbot’s market share continued to deteriorate everyplace, except perhaps Spain.
Roses are red / Sambas are blue / Simca got screwed / And Talbot did too
Peugeot could not afford to divert what little cash they had from the two saviors of the company: the Peugeot 205 and the Citroën BX. They arrived in 1983. By this point, Talbot’s main Poissy works were locked into a series of protracted industrial disputes, which further sullied the marque’s fading image.
Staring squarely at diminishing returns – the remains of Talbot by 1984
The atmosphere in the Poissy plant was gloomy, having lost 25% of its workforce since the takeover. Yet somehow, they muddled through – by making Peugeots. Originally built by Ford in 1939, ceded to Simca in December 1954 and now producing the last Talbots, Poissy still operates today as one of Peugeot’s main domestic factories.
Above: early design study; below: Jan. 1985 – almost finished, but what’ll be its name?
The last Talbots made in France were the Samba and Horizon, until the end of 1986. The C27/C28, which was supposed to replace the Horizon, was production-ready nonetheless. At the eleventh hour, Peugeot decided to re-badge it from “Talbot Arizona” to “Peugeot 309.” The 309 made no real sense within the Peugeot range, as reflected by its nomenclature and in the article above, where they pegged it as the “206.” (Peugeot math!) Poissy’s engine plant had to keep churning out the old Simca blocs, so somebody had to design a car for them.
Talbot Express – the zombie van
One final ignominious note: the last Talbot-branded vehicle was not a Spanish Horizon, it was an Italian-built British market clone of the Fiat Ducato. When PSA launched the project with Alfa and Fiat, they planned to sell the vans on the British market as the Talbot Express from 1982. Isolated from its Alfa/Citroën/Fiat/Peugeot brethren, it carried on regardless until 1994, still using the otherwise defunct Talbot name, in its final, glorious, career-topping 2-litre van form.
What an encore.
On the wrong side of history – and of this ramp of the Autoroute de l’Ouest!
Talbot demonstrated that you only live twice – first as tragedy, then as farce. It was tragic how Tony Lago managed to keep the marque alive throughout the ‘50s, when his 4-cyl. range had misfired so badly. But that was par for the course. Small automaker screws up new model, goes into tailspin – this is routine for the Deadly Sins series.
The wrinkle is that 1979 re-birth. While these are not uncommon (see: Bugatti, Invicta, Lagonda, Stutz and many more), a sudden rebranding of an entire range like – over three countries, no less – is is quite unprecedented in the post-war era. The crown jewel was the Tagora, a true blue Deadly Sin if there ever was one.
Pick a name, any name…
Talbot’s second demise was probably a foregone conclusion. The whole thing unravelled pretty quickly, though if it hadn’t been for the success of the Samba, Talbot might have disappeared even earlier. Instead, that once glorious name ended up stuck on little hatchbacks and British campervans. How the mighty had fallen. And what an awful mess in terms of marketing and brand management…
But enough with the lamentations. We must save some tears for tomorrow’s post. Speaking of which, as an ocular palate-cleanser, here’s a lovely Figoni Teardrop Talbot, sitting at the old Suresnes delivery hall to see us out.
Tomorrow, we take an aspirin and examine the last third of the Escher print: Matra!
Related posts:
Curbside Classic: 1949 Talbot-Lago T26 Record coupé surprofilé — the French “crème de la crème”, by T87
Curbside Classic: 1953-1955 Sunbeam Alpine – First Dibs, by Don Adreina
Car Show Classic: Talbot Tagora: Never a Chrysler, Nearly a Peugeot, by Roger Carr
Curbside Classic: 1984 Talbot Samba Sympa – Danse Macabre, by T87
* * *
European Deadly Sins series
French DS 1 (Hotchkiss, Panhard, Citroën) — French DS 2 (Bugatti, Facel-Vega, Monica)
French DS 3 (Berliet, Salmson, Delahaye)
British DS 1 (Jowett, Armstrong Siddeley, Daimler) — British DS 2 (Alvis, Lagonda, Gordon-Keeble)
British DS 3 (Invicta, Standard, Reliant)
German DS 1 (BMW, Borgward, Glas) — German DS 2 (Neckar, DKW, NSU)
Italian DS 1 (Autobianchi, Iso, Lancia) — Italian DS 2 (Isotta Fraschini, ASA, De Tomaso)
Other DS 1 (Minerva-Impéria, Monteverdi, DAF)
Believe or not, in Spain, TALBOT was, and is memories a beloved badge.
Since Dodge, Dart, 3700, Simcas, Chrysler, TALBOT… these cars were big names in Iberian Península
Now that was interesting and clears up a mystery camper van I saw while one of my cars got a recent WOF inspection, there was a camper van in for repairs with a Talbot badge on the bonnet that looked french in a Renault kind of way but no it was one of the last bearers of the talbot badge, always some cool cars at the garage that does my inspections, from 20s Rolls Royces to Talbot campervans with stuff like Marlin, Zodiacs and odd ball VWs thrown in for good measure.
Very interesting account of a complex story. I always wondered why the Grand Prix car was called a Talbot-Lago.
Of course the French Government helped kill-off the French luxury car business in the post-war years.
The T26 GSL coupe is a shape I really like; I had no idea there was a 7/8 scale followup and thank you for Carlo Delaisse’s name. Absolutely fantastic piece, Tatra87.
Sticking the Talbot name on mainstream FWD hatches and even old Avengers seems so strange. Was Chrysler’s involvement with Simca damaging to the name? The Horizon and the 1307 were still new and competitive in the late 70s.
On the old Talbot-Lagos, they were quite distinctive, but might have seemed out of date next to far more innovative but mass produced MBs and Jaguars. The younger generation seemed more conversant on spec sheets than pedigree. I also think that much old money was finding themselves threadbare post war and depression.
It seems market research told Peugeot that Simca lacked name recognition in several markets, especially Britain and West Germany — two of Europe’s biggest.
The Chrysler UK cars were all Chryslers by then, and that name had to go: it didn’t belong to Peugeot. Calling them ‘Simca Sunbeam’ or ‘Simca Avenger’ would have been pretty strange too. The only common denominator was Talbot, and it could be used on both French and UK cars, so it was.
Re: your 2nd paragraph, Talbot was also pretty out-of-date compared to Aston-Martins, Bristols, Ferraris, Maseratis and Lancias — hardly mass-produced cars…
Perhaps in pretty close proximity to Bristol, which relied so heavily on the pre war BMW chassis. Wonder if Bristol ever tried to get the BMW V8 as did Talbot. It seems like a natural but it would be understandable if BMW wanted nothing to do with Bristol.
I’m not sure exactly when it began, but Frazer Nash was closely involved with BMW around this time, in fact IIRC when the Neue Klasse was first introduced to the UK the cars were actually badged as FN/BMW.
Edit: the BMW V8 was used in the Frazer Nash ‘356 cabin (thanks Paul)’ Continental.
There was a modern day connection between Bristol and Frasier Nash. The Russian outfit that was trying to put things back together after the collapse of Bristol also seemed to own the rights to the Frazer Nash name. The website today is promoting a new model for 2017,(the Bullet that looks like a retro resyle of the Fighter), and the everpresent restoration service for vintage Bristols. There no longer is any mention of Frazer Nash, that may mean the Russians are no longer involved.
Frazer Nash were UK importers of BMW in the 30s, and the cars were branded as F/N BMWs as nobody had heard of BMW but Frazer Nash were well known.
The F.N. company stopped building cars more than half a century ago, but stayed in business and prospered.
BTW, I believe they only built two of those V8 models.
A great thumbnail history of a marque that is virtually unknown in the U.S. outside of the classic car community.
While practically all replicars leave me cold, this one has quite the opposite effect. The gorgeous Figoni et Falaschi T150 Teardrop was the inspiration for a company called TLC Carrossiers, Inc. They eschewed the term “replicar” and everything I’ve seen about their car, including the price, seems to support their claim that it’s much more than that.
Very few were ever produced and last I heard, one can still be obtained on special order. Here’s a fine example I saw in the parking lot at the Lime Rock Vintage Festival in 2010. The faithful duplication of the sweeping curves of the original design are apparent.
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The company is for sale, as the owners want to retire. Let’s pool our money!
HA! Methinks that would have to be the deep end of the pool, Dan.
I always found the last revival of the Talbot name fascinating and wanted to write about it but just kept putting it on the back burner. But you have told the story excellently, including the story of the old lives of Talbot, which I wasn’t very well educated on. Great article!
As a kid, I used to spend my summers in Italy and can clearly remember the advertising blitz in 1979 reintroducing Talbot onto the European market. At the same time, Sergio Tacchini polos were becoming popular there and I thought it was part of the same Talbot marketing campaign due to the similarities of the ‘T’ logo. And yes, I did buy a Sergio Tacchini polo and just ‘pretended’ it was for Talbot
Same here, I was 12 at that time and remember how my grandpa’s Simca-Chrysler 1307 would from then on be a Talbot 1510. I found the whole idea quite strange. Still do. There was nothing wrong with the name “Simca” in France at that time, quite the opposite, and the name “Chrysler” was a nice exotic touch. Prewar Talbots were fantastic of course, but as far as I remember by the late 1970s the name “Talbot” didn’t really ring any bells beside a famous blue Dinky Toy toy car, and no amount of advertising could reverse that state of things.Thank you Tatra for explaining this intricate story.
The Coventry factory was Ryton I think. I remember driving past it around 10 or so years ago when it had been reduced to a pile of rubble.
Correct, the Ryton factory on the outskirts of Coventry was building Peugeots until the end of 2006. I gather it was shut down rather than Peugeot closing one of their French factories.
Only the Brits could do such a cluster-f*** on a grand old name like this. While I’m fairly familiar with the history of the company, it’s one of the few that is so convoluted that I could not, by memory, recite it to fellow car enthusiasts at a pub after a few pints.
And yes, in France, Talbot (and Bugatti, etc.) were deliberately killed off by the French postwar tax structure which hammered anyone who wanted to buy a car this large. The French government attitude at this time was that driver’s should be in Deaux Chevaux’s, not big, expensive, status cars.
As a parallel, try to visualize the current American government throwing something like a 100% purchase tax on anyone who buys or leases a Mercedes, BMW or Audi. Visualize what that would do to their market. (Hmmn, maybe that’s not a bad idea . . . . it’d definitely put a stop to the badge whores in their leased cars. Never mind, I didn’t say that.)
Hmmm… I’m not 100% sure that the French government “deliberately killed off” anything. It’s perhaps a bit more complicated than that. They did try to consolidate the French car and truck sector, which consisted of about 30 companies of various sizes, i.e. far too many to enable post-war Reconstruction in an age of penury and rationing.
The tax thing is a bit of a red herring. If the French luxury brands had had better cars, they would have had better sales both at home and abroad. Citroen was exporting over 85% of its Tractions in the late ’40s, because they were incredibly good cars.
Purchase tax was 33% in the UK in those days. Didn’t prevent them from making luxury cars. Not sure what the system was in France exactly, I need to do some research… and maybe write a little something… But if you go to present-day Thailand (hardly a bastion of socialism), you’ll see a few guys driving around Bangkok in Lamborghinis, Bentleys, Porsches and the like. Those are subject to a 300% luxury import tax (as is European wine, unfortunately). It becomes even more of a status symbol to own these if folks know you paid four times the list price…
From 1948 the British government introduced a flat-rate of annual road tax, so a Rolls Royce owner paid the same amount as a Morris Minor owner. High rates of road tax hurts the secondhand value of big cars.
Thank you for this great explanation of what has always been a kind of murky automotive swamp to me. As has already been said, these were never found in the US and my only exposure to them was the occasional picture in a book or magazine.
You have pulled it all into shape in my mind, so that I can at least grasp the basics of the two organizations. Excellent work on some interesting cars.
An excellent and concise history that has long been overdue at CC. Thanks!
I will never forget first reading that Peugeot announcing its plan to revive the Talbot brand. A true WTF moment.
Talbot reminds me of Eagle in the US, a similar attempt to rebrand cars acquired from an acquisition. And the results were similarly predictable.
Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to write this, Paul!
I was too busy developing basic motor skills to be aware of the Talbot revival in ’79. But i do remember seeing the Isotta Fraschini T8 at the Geneva motor show in the 90s and being also somewhat perplexed. Nothing came of that, though…
But I hear they’re going to relaunch (of all brands) … Borgward??
The Borgward BX7 is already available in China. Next year in Europe.
And good story, Tatra. I’m only familiar with the “revival models” from the late seventies~early eighties. And the Talbot Arizona, known as the Peugeot 309. First time I see the Talbot clone of the Fiat / Peugeot van.
Goggomobil next? Heck, why not.
WE got those Talbot cars in NZ, third rebadge of the Avenger still assembled by Todd motors and the Alpine touted as a 100mph car, yeah good luck with that, Mitisubishi absorbed the ruins of Chrysler here and sent their efforts from Japan over with their own badging.
Some of those cars are just stunning.
When I read “1900s to 1990s” I was confused, and then I remembered the Express. It’s funny reading this right after Johannes’ article – I have to think the assumption was that UK (English?) van drivers wouldn’t want a Peugeot “cos it’s French”, and I’ve always been intrigued by the huge popularity of the Express as a basis for campervans – similarly I would think it was because Fiats or Citroens would scare the tea cosy loving Daily Mail readers who tended to buy the things in the UK at that time.
I seem to remember Alpines and Solaras mostly being driven by people who spent most of their day wearing slippers and as many beige garments as possible.
Fleet buyers make up a disproportionate share of new-car buyers there due to the UK’s company-car culture; in the ’70s and ’80s many had a “buy-British” policy that included transplants; this is the reason why the Vauxhall nameplate still exists. (Why Opel or Peugeot was unacceptable when Ford was, in fact dominated the sector, is beyond me…)
It’s probably also why Honda ended up with an “old folks'” image, they didn’t do fleet sales…
I expect the difference was that Vauxhall was an established brand whereas Ford had been part of the landscape almost since day dot. The history of GM is quite different although Ford Europe has echoes of the Vauxhall/Opel situation.
If you are referring to why did Peugeot resurrect the Talbot name, I think that would be an Eagle situation; Peugeot probably didn’t want to put their name on the (mostly) old clunkers that were still on the books.
My grandpa had an Opel Kadett company car back when you could get an Opel in the UK, as it happens.
Weirdly, I think British people (especially back in the 80s/early 90s) think/thought of Ford as British, almost more than Vauxhall. In the heyday of BTC racing I’m sure there was more support for Ford than any other brand. They made British specific models from the 30s onwards and had had a UK plant since the Model T.
I think Dagenham was the biggest car plant in Europe, so they were certainly a major employer. I went to a talk given by a retired government minister and he alleged that Henry Ford II had given him a wishlist of changes to govt policy – “Do XYZ or we close Dagenham”. He told him where to shove it, but it gives you an idea how big a presence they were.
Honda got an “old folks” image because their cars were boring (they may have seemed funky vs a traditional American car but not so much vs a Renault or a Fiat) and old people seem to care a lot more about reliability. (here anyway)
Thanks for the overview!
Tony Lago seems to have been in the same situation as the Bugatti family in the 50’s – both kept trying to keep their operations afloat, but failed in the end to keep them running like they had in the past.
Fantastic article! Here is a T26C GP car that ran at the Phillip Island Classic back in March. The car has been in Australia since 1954.
And another, earlier GP car
I like that T26! Plus you can really see the steering wheel & gear selector — 100% identical to the normal road cars. In those days, the difference between an F1 and a sports saloon was still very slim. By the ’60s, things had mightily changed…
Stunning photo ! Even the leaf springs are French Racing Blue.
And what’s more (drumroll) I have sat in that very T26C car. I played with the Wilson selector, and the thing was even started with me in it pressing (I think) a central throttle.
Alas, this is where the story breaks down. I personally know I did this – I’m a car nut, but a total nut – but cannot fill in the details. It was in about 1990: it was in a factory in Bayswater, Vic: a sister of mine was dating the guy who had some connection to it (as she is normal and cares not about cars or ex’s, she doesn’t recall): and so it sounds like the usual “I knew a guy who knew a guy”, except this time, I AM the guy. I HAVE sat in and started a 1940’s Le Mans competitor. So there.
Anyway, thanks john, because I thought the car had been long ago exported. I had no idea it lived here, since ’54 or still.
Um, ok, turns out there were about 20 of them, but hell, “my” one at least won the Aus Grand Prix in ’52 and ’53. So…almost there!
Well, turns out I’m not miles off, as it used to be Louis Chiron’s, and did indeed race in the European GP championship (unclear if it was a winner). Also, in winning the ’53 Grand prix in Aus around Albert Park in Melbourne, it seems to have had an almighty exciting moment, but went on to win regardless.
another view
Thank you Tatra! The Talbot puzzle has baffled me since I was a kid, I’d only ever worked out the tangle as far back as Peugeot buying the Simca/Rootes remnants from Chrysler (explaining some of the dodgier cars of my childhood) but never the full twisted trans-channel tale. I thoroughly enjoyed that.
Fascinating article Tatra87! We got the Sunbeam-Talbot 90 in New Zealand; and then the Talbot-badged Alpine. Both seemed to sell reasonably well, although oddly there are still quite a few 90s about but the Alpines have dropped off the face of the earth. I most recently saw a genuine Talbot in France a couple of months ago, when I spied (and photographed for later CC viewing) a Tagora beside the road.
Found it I was sure I got a shot, one live Talbot van with major rust around the windscreen the reason it was in dock not some mechanical malady,
A fine history, and one that clearly illuminates the ever-changing structure of the company. Plus some very cool cars along the way, particularly in the 30’s and 40’s. Well-done and much appreciated!
May I suggest Eastern Bloc Deadly Sins next?
Brands like FSO, Moskvitch, ZIL, Tatra, the Volga nameplate/sub-brand, or basically the entire East German car industry are waiting for their stories to be heard!
Yeah, true. But those would require a ton of research. Apart from Tatra, I’m not overly familiar with these cars’ history.
In the meantime, you might enjoy this old post of mine:
https://www.curbsideclassic.com/curbside-classics-european/curbside-classic-1976-gaz-13-chaika-apparat-chic-or-a-short-history-of-long-soviet-cars/
Well, I guess that sooner or later you may run out of material that you know, so researching those could be a viable option. Being Polish, I can help you with Polish-language sources on FSO’s history, and I know a guy from Kragujevac who can help with Zastava.
In general, it is:
– East German brands – keeping good 1960s designs way, way beyond their expiration date, shooting down literally any modernisation effort till the last hour, trying to revive old cars with new, expensive engines and an influx of West German cars.
– Moskvitch – the brand’s quality was kept down in order not to compete with Lada, leaving their products to be bin-fodder, low-profit liquidity trap crap without as much of an export market. Modernisations ultimately couldn’t do anything to make bad cars good enough.
– ZIL – the factory had no chance to survive in a free market, being directed at making low-tech (3-speed automatic and a carburettor in the 90s) high-end cars for the top party brass, cost no object. As a result, in the free market they would cost a few times what the W140 S-Class did.
– Volga – they were fighting decent-quality imports with 60s-derived technology, bringing a knife to a gunfight. Modernisation attempts all looked like just sharpening the proverbial knife, and when they introduced the Siber, licensing a Sebring was just turning up with a blunderbuss when every fighter has a Kalashnikov.
– FSO – while modernizing the Polonez was a great idea at first, it couldn’t work forever, even if it couldn’t bring enough money to replace the Polonez. Making Daewoos worked for a while, but then importing used cars from other EU countries killed the Polish cheap car market FSO/Daewoo/Chevrolet was aimed at.
– Zastava – the factory and domestic market were ravaged by the Balkan Wars, and modernizing the 101 and Koral was like FSO’s Polonez attempts – it puts food on the table, but won’t get anywhere further. When Fiat bought the brand, all they decided they could get out of it was the Kragujevac factory (now building 500Ls).
Also, if I were buying a car from that chart in 1982 France, I’d have a few choices, depending on what I’d want:
– The Cruiser – Citroen CX. A practical car with comfortable suspension and a rather low price.
– The Sports Saloon – BMW 5-Series. Good handling, good looks, OK price.
– The Reliable – Mercedes W123. Pretty much everything has been already said about its reliability, and the price is not that bad when faced with cars like the Volvo, Rover or Alfa.
My choices exactly.
Though I would hesitate long and hard between the W123 and the Opel.
At that point, Opel was sliding into making bigger mass-market cars, not fighting Mercedes like it did in the past. It’s hard to make Corsas and Senators under a single management and principle set.
And if I were buying a car in the 1952 chart, I’d likely buy the Talbot T26 in a cost-no-object scenario. If I had to limit my budget, I’d get the Hotchkiss 20/50, and with further limitations, I’d get the Citroen.
A visual feast and a feast of reading! Thank you so much Tatra! stories more convoluted than the exhaust pipes on the upended Tagora. Thanks for saying there were no deadly sins among the Simcas, I have a very soft spot for them.
Presumably PSA still owns all the old Rootes brands – Hillman, Humber, Sunbeam, Singer, Commer – as well as Talbot. And now Vauxhall, and Bedford.
What historical points of divergence would have been needed to save Talbot, both in the pre-war and post-war periods?
Lago’s Talbot? I guess a higher US presence, where there would be more rich enough people, production capacity better tailored to demand, and no racing program. More American buyers also would not hurt the British Talbot.
New Talbot? Maybe not using the name for all post-Chrysler Europe stuff, and a smaller car, more in line with the 3-Series, W201 and 80 B2, to better fit with the post-crisis times.
From looking at the history of post-Chrysler Talbot under PSA, it is doubtful such a plan could have happened. However guess a successful Chrysler Europe (and successful Chrysler in general) could have revived Talbot as as a European version of Imperial or a transatlantic alternative.
Lago’s Talbot could have done a better job with the T15 as well as gone without F1, it did manage to achieve some success in endurance events though not sure whether continued involvement with the latter would have sufficed.
Not sure how they could have achieved a higher US presence and better utilized the underused Suresnes works.
“a European version of Imperial”
PSA’s got one – DS Automobiles.
A spun-off Citroen nameplate series (the Citro DS3, DS4 and DS5 literally just became the DS 3, 4 and 5) that uses ordinary PSA platforms to use fancier luxury cars, and tries to compete with brands like Audi (emphasis on “tries”).
A successful Chrysler Europe would have butterflied away the need for the PSA takeover.
I always thought it was interesting that that the Golf-clone Horizon was almost replaced by a bubbleback, twice, on both its’ major markets, and those cars were developed from parallel but mirrored processes. The Talbot Arizona certainly had the look of a stretched 205, while the Dodge Shadow/Plymouth Sundance was very much a cut-down Lancer/LeBaron GTS, yet another recipe from the K-car ingredients, and planned as a bubbleback until (supposedly) Iacocca himself ordered the bubble burst and the production car to have a notchback profile with “hidden” hatch.
You’ve had fun writing this, and it shows. Talbot – so English only the French could think it was theirs. Very well condensed, Mr T (or F. Or 87). Delightful.
Dare I admit to a sneaking like for the Tagora? Perhaps Don Andreina might be able to explain the square-box Fiat 130 ’70’s appeal. Or not. I suspect it because it resembles the truly Deadly Sin of the Quattroporte 2, one my favourite exotic unwanteds.
A quick note (I’m sure you know) about Msr Pierre Levegh, whose Talbot broke leading hour 23 of Le Mans. He had been driving for that entire time, and was half dazed at the last pit stop. He mucked up a gearchange on the Wilson box, over-revved the engine, and blew it. From then on, the organisers banned single drives at the race.
Sadly, Levegh was at the wheel of the Mercedes in the 1955 race when it struck the rear of an Austin Healey at 120 mph (incredibly, the Healey still exists). The Mercedes launched into the crowd in the stands and caught fire. At least 84 were killed, including Levegh.
Yes, that 1952 race was epic.
Pretty early on, Levegh started to notice the engine had bad vibrations around certain rpms, so he knew it was a tenuous situation. He figured that if he might just be able to nurse it to the end, now that he knew where the danger zone was. But that also meant driving it solo to the finish: there was no way any other person could know what Levegh knew, so the engine would blow up in minutes.
Around the 10th hour, Levegh found himself in the lead. And then he lapped the Mercedes once, twice, three times… but Levegh was at the end of his tether. A momentary lapse in concentration was all it took: as he downshifted for a turn, Levegh overrevved the Talbot a bit too much. Five laps ahead of the 300SLs, but 70 minutes before the end of the race, the crankshaft bearing finally gave out.
Now that I didn’t know. I always thought it was because Levegh was a bit bone-headed (wanting to beat the French 1950 winner’s drive time), supposedly being being begged by his wife and pit crew – whom he supposedly didn’t recognise from exhaustion – to stop driving at his last pitting.
I also didn’t know that a T26 had won le Mans outright in 1950, with the main driver driving all but 2 laps, and also one came in 2nd place. (The winner won despite getting a black eye from an owl at speed, as most of us have…not!). In fact, I didn’t realise quite how successful the conservative TL’s were generally after the war.
And I sat in one, did I mention? I didn’t? Well I do so now. Yes, me. No, no, it was nothing. (As if! Sure as shit the most expensive car I’ve ever started!!)
I wonder where could you find the information about the Saoutchik T26 Limousine. While the king Saud and Bey’s ones were documented, i couldnt find anything mentioning the King of Jordan’s one. It is owned by a friend of mine and we are trying to find its history.
The 2.2 Simca / Tagora engine would find its way into the CX by Citroen the 505 by Peugeot and ………………….the Group B Bx 4TC
here you see 3 pieces leave for the scrapyard but oddly 2 were saved, friend and former Citroen 2nd works driver Philippe Wambergue received a call years later that the scrap dealer had a car sitting in his barn ( he’d been clever enough to see these were something special) with Wambergue’s name on it.
He went down to the scrap dealer to take a look and saw the 2 works BXés that were still in their Acropolis Rally livery, the last event they ever attended !
He bought both, only missing a steering rack, a steering wheel and a drivers seat !
Another great read, Tatra. It is often the “CC Tales Of Woe” that I find most compelling. (You had me at “Tagora”.)
Thank you for everything you contribute to this site. I’m often 99% (or 100%) in the dark about the topics you write about, and hence normally have nothing to say – but I very much appreciate the thorough research you do for these well-written, textbook-ready pieces.
Fascinating article, Tatra87. As always, you amaze while you inform and entertain. Thank you! In its convoluted history, Talbot gave us some magnificent coach-built lovelies, that’s what should be remembered well.
Of the late badge-engineered, econo-boxes, soon forgotten as the junkyards erase the last of them.
I knew about the Tagora getting the Peugeot 505 rear axle, but the fact that the original design had a transaxle was news to me. T87 comes through again!
Hold on. I haven’t gotten past 198 km/h in 1905 in an open wheeled, open-bodied (just about non-bodied) race car with no safety equipment of any kind. That’s about 122 mph. That’s also insanely ballsy.
In order to get some publicity for the rebirth of Talbot in 1980, the company decided to become a sponsor of English First Division football team Coventry City, which lead to one of the more memorable/ugly kits of recent years:
The unfortunate thing is, the Tagora wasn’t actually a bad car. It didn’t have any major Achilles heels apart from the unhappy styling, it just wasn’t “special” enough to offer any kind of benefit over the competition. The SX 2.7 V6 was a quick car for the time, but anyone in the market for that type of executive saloon went for something with more badge cachet like a BMW or Rover, while the big fleet buyers bought Granadas for their high flyers.
Hi everyone,
I wonder where could you find the information about the Saoutchik T26 Limousine. While the king Saud and Bey’s ones were documented, i couldnt find anything mentioning the King of Jordan’s one. It is owned by a friend of mine and we are trying to find its history.