It’s kind of bold to go for an obscure late ‘90s Simpsons reference for a post title, but when am I going to write up my next Singer? If present find levels continue, another decade might go by with nothing to Sing about. And my vocal cords need a good work out at least once a decade.
Singer is one of those marques that really should have been covered in a British Deadly Sins post. I never did get around to it, but of all the ex-Rootes members (Talbot excepted), it’s the most dramatic fall from grace. They were bought by Rootes in the ‘50s, after over five decades as an independent company, and the name was discontinued in 1970. But in their prewar hey-day, Singer made some of the best small cars in England – or, indeed, Europe. Will this Le Mans roadster provide proof to these high assertions?
In the mid-‘20s, Singer’s bread-and-butter were three main models: a deluxe 6-cyl. 14HP (1.8 litre), a 10HP (1.3 litre) mid-ranger and the compact 8HP Junior (850cc). The larger cars soon started playing second fiddle to the compact, which had a class-leading 16hp OHC 4-cyl. as its secret weapon.
In 1932, the little OHC four was improved and enlarged to 972cc and the car became the Singer 9HP – more commonly known as the Nine. Almost immediately, the saloon was given a tourer companion to make use of the brilliant little engine.
One of these four-seater drop-top Nines was raced at the 1933 Le Mans event, finishing 13th overall – a great result that the marque duly celebrated by launching a sporty two-seater model bearing the French 24-hour race’s name as its own.
The Nine Le Mans was a direct competitor to MG’s J-Type, as well as a host of other small British roadsters based on Standard, Austin, Ford or Hillman chassis in this 1-litre class. The Singer (like the MG) were sportier than most thanks to their underslung chassis. Early cars had cycle fenders and a more basic body.
Our feature car is the Special Speed version, which took over for 1935 with a new body with slightly wider fenders with running boards, a revised grille, a revised tail with two spare tyres and a larger fuel tank. This was paired with a higher compression engine with twin carbs that produced 38hp, mated to a 4-speed gearbox. This became the default version of the Nine roadster for the remainder of the model’s production run.
Suspension-wise, the Singers were quite middle-of-the-road, with cart-sprung rigid axles front and rear. But then, that was the case for the overwhelming majority of British cars at the time, from the humblest Morris to the noblest Daimler. The Le Mans roadster did have more elaborate (and more suited to low-slung chassis) André Hartford friction shocks, as well as hydraulic brakes all around.
Singer also fielded a bigger Le Mans roadster with a 1.5 litre OHC straight-6 – those were seriously expensive and fast, but sold in very limited numbers. Furthermore, they made a handful of 1-litre “Le Mans Replica” cars in 1935 that ended up racing for the carmaker’s own team.
Those were actually substantially different from the cars that ran Le Mans in 1933, as they had IFS, a thoroughly re-worked engine and all-metal racer coachwork. Those were actually successfully raced at Le Mans that year, as well as a famous Tourist Trophy race where three Singer works cars crashed at the same spot on the track.
With all this racing lore and glory, Singer still elected to abandon the whole works racing team after 1935 – it was probably a huge drain on the company’s limited resources. The Le Mans roadster remained in production until 1937, by which time the Nine was replaced by a new “Nine Bantam” model with IFS, a larger 1.1 litre engine and other refinements, but no two-seater model.
In 1939, a four-seater Nine tourer appeared, sort-of-but-not-quite recapturing the Le Mans’ place in enthusiasts’ hearts. It reappeared unchanged after the war as the Nine Roadster and carried on until 1953. Any article of the period comparing the Singer and the MG T-Type always found the latter to be a far superior car, albeit much more expensive.
And that was Singer’s problem in a nutshell. Their cars were great, with sophisticated and powerful OHC engines, but they competed in a segment where price was a far more important deciding factor than performance or “breeding” were, certainly after 1945.
As befits a prewar two-seater, Singers Nine Le Mans were not exactly mass-produced. Five hundred of the 1933-34 cycle-fender types were made; fewer than 250 of the 1935-37 Special Speed type exemplified by our feature car followed. We can also add the 70-odd 1.5 litre Singer Le Mans that existed concurrently, but that’s still not a lot.
The Singer reminds me a bit of the French marque Salmson, which sort of had the same trajectory, except Salmson died out in the mid-‘50s whereas the Singer name was bought out and thus survived much longer. But its content did not. Sophisticated small cars would have a revival in the ‘60s with the likes of BMW and Alfa Romeo, but that came a bit too late for the likes of Singer. May it be pardoned for that.
Very lovely car. I’d love to take it for a spin this perfect summer morning on our great driving roads nearby.
Any article of the period comparing the Singer and the MG T-Type always found the latter to be a far superior car, albeit much more expensive.
I assume you mean the former (Singer) not the latter (MG)?
That is a very well preserved or restored Singer. Cannot be more than a handful around the world.
If you want to find another, look no further than mine. I have a restored 1949 Singer 9A. I purchased it at an estate sale and it needed restoration. The previous owner was quite excentric and owned my cars. The Singer he owned for twenty years and never titled it in his name. He also, never addressed a number of mechanical issues. He also painted the car with a paint brush.
here is a link to images: https://www.britcars.us/old/1949%20Singer%20Roadster%209A/album/index.html
What a lovely and charming little car. The colour combination is quite nice as well. While nicer than the equivalent MG I bet the MG still wins out with most buyers as the parts supply is so much better.
My father went to the University of Toronto from 1932 to 1936 and one of his classmates drove a Singer, probably similar to this. The owner’s older brother married my dad’s older sister, which is probably why my mother mentioned him and his car. The Singer must have impressed her, as she remembered the make.
What a lovely little car.
The position of Singer postwar is best described as ‘precarious’. The new SM1500 saloon seemed awfully expensive relative to the competition, but didn’t have the traditional looks and luxury cues then expected of a more expensive car. Or the sporting cred of a Jowett. It was unashamedly modern, yet also looked a bit odd with the heavily-rounded window frames, and the line of the boot looking especially strange. And the roadster looked like the carryover it was. It seemed more of a family tourer (a type pretty much then obsolete) than a sports car.
In trying to find a place in the postwar world, SInger seemed to have turned their back on their glory years, and found instead a small and precarious niche. And yet problems were recognised, and development was proceeding. Was there time for a reboot?
The SM1500 regained a traditional face, and became the Hunter. Singer developed a DOHC variant, the Hunter 75. The Roadster gained the saloon’s larger engine. But this return to their traditional and sporting roots came too late to save them from Rootes.
That would have been a seriously hot little car back then.
Perfect for the well-heeled playboy.