1950 Plymouth Suburban Station Wagon: No Wood, All Rust

Photo of a rusty 1950 Plymouth Suburban station wagon with no wheels in an overgrown yard full of other junk vehicles

While historical accolades for being the first all-steel station wagon come down to semantics (covered by Paul N. here) and nationality (covered by Tatra 87 here), the Henry Ford Museum is willing to make this claim: “Plymouth’s 1949 Suburban was the first station wagon with an all-steel body. It transformed the wagon into a practical family vehicle.” Curbside Classic’s Hyperpack posted this 1950 model in the Cohort, and while it’s past its useful life carrying people and cargo, you can see the appeal.

Period illustrated advertisement of 1950 Plymouth Suburban

The thing about 1950s advertising is that you have big cars in front of small people who are gaping at a machine of fairly standard specification. It’s possible that nobody envied a Plymouth owner in 1950, aside from perhaps the fact that they owned a new car. In this case, Mr. Mustache at the driver’s side fender might actually be pondering its purchase. Think of all the hoses he could carry.

Image of "Deluxe All-Metal Suburban" from 1950 Plymouth brochure

And the price was right, too. A traditional wood-bodied “Special Deluxe” wagon cost $2,372 in 1950, $390 more than the convertible, while the two-door, steel-bodied “Special” Suburban was over $400 cheaper at $1,946. While the Suburban only had two doors instead of four, it was almost a no-brainer in hindsight. It had more room than a sedan (although it in itself cost over $300 more) and none of the tedious upkeep of a wood-bodied station wagon. Why did nobody think of that sooner?

Picture of 1947 Jeep Station Wagon advertisement

Well, as Paul and Tatra mentioned in their articles linked above, somebody did. The Jeep Station Wagon had been out for several years already, but Jeep/Willys was such a niche manufacturer, and the Jeep was so comparatively crude compared to a “big” Plymouth, that it most likely didn’t even compute when people were shopping for a new car.

Image of 1950 Plymouth Suburban nameplate on patinaed fender

Furthermore, you might be wondering about the name—Suburban. First, it was appropriate, as the Plymouth was indeed a car designed for suburban living. Second, didn’t Chevy already make a Suburban, and wasn’t it technically an all-metal wagon? Of course it was; however, being based on a big pickup truck, it wasn’t really a practical choice for a Suburban family (back then, anyway). Finally, Chevy didn’t copyright the name until 1988. There were several “Suburban” models across any number of product lines, and Chevy didn’t have the field to itself until Plymouth stopped using the name after the 1978 model station wagons were history.

Image of rear luggage compartment of 1950 Plymouth Suburban
Photo Credit: Bring a Trailer

This photo of a more well-preserved Suburban shows why the Plymouth was such a big deal and why the Henry Ford Museum, which tends to collect cars that had a profound impact on the industry, owns one. While it’s a far cry from the behemoths that plied the roads in the 1960s and ’70s, it’s clearly a utilitarian machine.

Image of passenger compartment of 1950 Plymouth Suburban
Photo Credit: Bring a Trailer

And while it was no Chrysler, the Special Suburban was acceptably luxurious, and there was plenty of room for a family of five. The rugged 218-cubic-inch flathead six with 97 horsepower still provided the propulsion, and a three-speed manual was still your only option, but those were not irreconcilable for a family machine in those days before everyone drove an automatic and there were expressways to deal with.

Picture of passenger side of 1950 Plymouth Suburban in an autumnal setting
Photo Credit: Bring a Trailer

Nor was the styling. Chrysler Corporation lagged far behind their Big Three competitors by 1950, so the Suburban was a square-rigged machine in an era when the 1950s kitsch was just starting to ramp up, but Plymouth still managed to sell 34,457 of these things. That number was far behind sedans, but it was a start, and the price differential could not be ignored when the median income was around $3,000 a year.

You may also notice that the Suburban looks a little stubbier than you might expect, and that’s no figment of your imagination. The wheelbase, at 111″, was 7.5″ shorter than a Special Deluxe sedan or wagon, and the length was similarly truncated.

Picture of driver's side of rusty 1950 Plymouth Suburban

But back to Hyperpack‘s Suburban; he found it at Doug’s Auto in Acme, Pennsylvania, which seems to specialize in old Mopar goodies. Pennsylvania is certainly a rust-belt state, so the advanced state of decay pictured here is not unlikely; what is unlikely is that the car still exists 75 years after it was built.

Rear driver's three-quarter view of rusty 1950 Plymouth Suburban

It’s fun to car-spot at old salvage yards, and it’s refreshing to find a yard that hasn’t “crushed out.” With the vagaries of scrap metal prices always lingering in the distance, you have to appreciate them while they’re still here.

Front passenger three-quarter view of rusty 1950 Plymouth Suburban

Some of those yards have cars you haven’t thought about in years, if indeed you ever have. While the Plymouth Suburban may look unassuming sitting here in what is most likely its final stop before the bitter end, it’s a historically significant little car. Would the magic station wagon formula have been found if Plymouth hadn’t found it? Of course. But Plymouth did find it, and we have them to thank (RIP) for all those SUVs on the road today. Sort of.

Related CC Reading

Cohort Classic: 1950 Plymouth All-Steel Wagon – The First Modern Station Wagon

CControversial Question: Who Made The First All-Steel Station Wagon?