Dodge Cummins Turbo Diesel History
Dodge Cummins Turbo Diesel History
Dodge Cummins Turbo Diesel History
TURBO DIESEL
HISTORICAL
PERSPECTIVE
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All rights reserved.
CONTENTS
THE FIRST TURBO DIESEL 4
How it all got started
CUMMINS HISTORY 12
An interview with Clessie Cummins’ son, Lyle Clessie Cummins Jr.
CUMMINS’ INDEPENDENCE 21
Lyle Cummins on the oldest
independent diesel builder in the world
MR. CUMMINS 22
More about Clessie Cummins’ early days
DODGE HISTORY 26
The Dodge Brothers
CHRYSLER HISTORY 30
Another perspective as a rairoad man
Sincerely,
To set the stage for the diesel engine program, let’s go back to 1981.
Troy Simonsen starts the story, “In 1981 Truck Operations was created by
Vice President Joe Campana to breathe new life into the faltering Truck
Division. Joe and assistant Gordon Cherry were fully committed to getting
a diesel engine in our trucks as soon as possible. I went to Truck Operations
as an engine specialist whose job was to get a diesel in the Dodge trucks.
I had enjoyed many good jobs, but I really put my heart and soul into this
one. Soon I didn’t know what a car was and I didn’t care.”
Troy continues the Chrysler story, “We were looking around the world for
an appropriate diesel engine. We went to Minneapolis and Huntsville, AL,
to visit Onan (not yet a part of Cummins). They put three of their new L-
Series engines in pickups and vans for us. We talked to Detroit Diesel about
their 6.2-liter engine. Navistar courted us to buy the 6.9 but didn’t know if
they had enough capacity after fulfilling Ford volumes.
“We talked to the Japanese about a 6-liter diesel engine of theirs that
was suitable for a medium truck. They couldn’t fathom why we would
be interested in a 160 horsepower engine with 400 ft-lb of torque for a
pickup! Perkins was also courting us with their upgraded 6-cylinder engine.
White engine company and Duetz had also done truck repowers for Dodge.
Chrysler had a development program to make their 225/Slant-six into a
diesel. They even had several running in test cars and trucks. Cummins
invited us to visit and drive a Ford E350 van with their 3.9-liter, four-
cylinder, B-series engine. They also showed us market research and their
engineering facilities.
“We were impressed with Cummins and with the performance and fuel
economy of the four-cylinder engine. But we were concerned about the
vibration. We could see that the six-cylinder was too big to fit in our trucks,
so we asked if they would make a five-cylinder engine. Cummins entertained
that thought, but declined. We continued with only casual contact with
Cummins until one day in 1983 when John asked me to get a set of Dodge
pickup engine compartment drawings for them.”
John talks about how things moved into high gear. “Yes, I kept in touch
with Troy and the 6.9-liter growth he was tracking in Ford. When I learned
that Chrysler was considering the Navistar 6.9 in Dodge trucks, the light
went on. Our B-series, six-cylinder was the shortest six-cylinder diesel in
existence. A goal had been that it be short enough to fit the GM mid-range
truck and that engine bay was pretty short. That’s when I asked Troy for
engine compartment layout drawings to check feasibility of the 6BT to be
fitted. I remember reviewing the marked-up drawing in Gordon Cherry’s
office. As Chrysler became more positive about the potential, I suggested
that Cummins do a demonstration installation for Chrysler to look at, but
Gordon felt it would be better to have Chrysler do some engineering first
to reduce the not-invented-here reaction to a Cummins-done installation.
So I had a non-running engine prepared and sent to Troy for Chrysler to do
some mock-up work.”
Troy picks up the story and tells me about the trial-fit engine, “When the
mockup was complete we invited all the Chief Engineers from Chrysler
Engineering to review the mockup truck. We provided them a list of the
changes required to install the engine into the Dodge pickup. They looked
at the truck and agreed that there were still some challenges, but no show-
stoppers.
“In the meantime, we provided Cummins with a truck for them to install a
working diesel engine in.
“The next hurdle was uncovered in a discussion with Product Planning and
Engineering. We discovered that there simply were not enough resources
within Chrysler to take on the engineering task required to install the diesel
in a gas pickup. Cummins was not daunted by this and volunteered to be
our engineering outside contractor. We worked out a unique, never-tried-
before system for Cummins to do the engineering, design, and testing
under the watchful eye of Chrysler Engineering.”
“The sobering reality was sinking in too . . . ‘the bear has been captured;
he’s in the tent!’ We had to get going, pronto! There were a number of
things to get sorted out, and quickly. Both companies were anxious to
get a Letter of Intent signed, but it took months of drafts back and forth
before we agreed to wording that both companies were comfortable with.
Fortunately, the early engineering work started showing progress more
quickly. Cummins had the first of six mule vehicles repowered to the diesel
in May, and five of the six were running by October.”
Troy tells about the first test mule: “ I was on hand to test drive the first
prototype Dodge/Cummins diesel pickup, a two-wheel drive, automatic
three-speed. Cummins had set up a test run with
comparable Chevy and Ford diesel pickups. It was
a thrill to see the Dodge/Cummins outperform
both of them with ease.
“The audience may think that putting a diesel engine in a gas pickup is
a small job. However, consider all the things that had to be changed to
accomplish the task:
· Move the radiator yoke and radiator forward four-plus inches to
make room for the longer engine
· Change the fuel system from gas to diesel including an in-tank
pump, fuel return line, fuel filter, heater, and water separator
· Larger battery, cables, and stronger battery tray
· Larger diameter exhaust system
· Stronger drivetrain for the low RPM high torque engine: torque
converter, clutch, automatic and manual transmissions, front and
rear axles, prop shafts, 4WD transfer case
· Adapt engine to transmission and clutch housing
· Heavier front suspension to support much heavier engine and
driveline
· Increased cooling capacity: radiator, shroud, fan, fan drive
· Add an engine oil cooler
· Add a vacuum pump for brakes and heater controls
· Certify brakes for different weight distribution
· Change instrument panel for appropriate diesel function warning
lights
· Add electric controls for intake manifold heater
· Release a larger starter
· Provide a large enough alternator to support the electrical system
· Rearrange items in the engine compartment to fit with the diesel
engine
· Design the front end engine accessories to fit
· Many new wiring harnesses throughout the truck
“We also had to select a manual transmission supplier. There were three
major contenders: Tremec, Getrag, and New Process. Getrag was chosen
because they were the only company that could meet production timing
requirements. Even at that, manual transmissions were not available for
the first diesels and were in limited availability for quite some time.
“However, the drop in Ford’s sales numbers could easily be explained. Ford
was in a major model changeover with the F-Series trucks and dealers
were out of all pickups. Furthermore, as pickup production started up again
they would launch F-150s first, then add diesels to their production last.
The first engine was produced at CMEP in 1992. CMEP celebrated production
of 100,000 engines in ‘95; 250,000 engines in ‘97; and 750,000 engines
in November of ‘01. The millionth Dodge engine milestone was celebrated
in April of ‘03. The anticipated volume for ‘05 and CMEP will be a record at
175,000 engines.
Troy and John have good reason to be proud of the now legendary Dodge/
Cummins Turbo Diesel pickup. Should you have a chance to meet these
pioneers at a TDR event, please be sure to express your gratitude for their
hard work and their vision.
CUMMINS HISTORY
An interview with Clessie Cummins’ son,
Lyle Clessie Cummins Jr.
by Jim Anderson, Bruce Armstong, Robert Patton
As a very young man, Irwin Miller spent many Phil Jones, Irwin Miller and
hours with inventor Clessie Cummins, who was then developing a workable Henry Schacht examine a
diesel engine. He went to work for Cummins Engine Company in 1934 midrange engine prototype
mounted in a van, circa 1980.
as a general manager and was named company president in 1945. He The decision to launch multiple
became chairman of the board in 1951, where he began to implement a new engine families concurrently
business strategy that transformed the (then) $20-million dollar engine was a risky gamble—a”bet the
producer into a worldwide organization of engine and related equipment company”proposition, in Henry
Schacht’s words.
manufacturer with 2003 sales of $6.3-billion. In the process, he also set
the company’s ethics in place that fostered innovative manufacturing
techniques, innovative business strategies, and exemplary human rights
innovations. He was as comfortable talking with a worker on the Cummins
production line as he was interacting with fellow company board members
or presidents, and was always interested in what each had to say.
In 1967, Esquire Magazine ran Miller’s picture on its cover and proclaimed
“this man ought to be the next president of the United States.” He’s well
known in company circles for what became known as the “Irwin Miller
Transparency Test.” If an action, idea, or proposed business strategy could
be justified to or approved by your local minister, then it passed the “Miller
Transparency Test.”
Mr. Miller’s personal philosophy about the equality of all individuals is best
characterized in his often-quoted remarks from 1983:
“In the search for character and commitment, we must rid ourselves of
our inherited, even cherished biases and prejudices. Character, ability, and
intelligence are not concentrated in one sex over the other, or in persons
with certain accents, or in certain races, or in persons holding degrees
from some universities over others. When we indulge ourselves in such
irrational prejudices, we damage ourselves most of all, and ultimately
assure ourselves of failure in competition with those more open and less
biased.”
How does Mr. Miller fit into the history of Cummins Engine Company? A
brief review of the book, The Engine That Could, published in 1996, the
75th anniversary of the company’s founding, gives us some insight. What
follows is a brief review by this article’s author.
If you’re ever passing through central Indiana on I-65, your writer suggests
you take a short side trip through Columbus and its many Cummins
facilities. Much of the town’s amazing architecture is Cummins-inspired
and supported. Call it “continuing corporate community responsibility,” a
rare commodity in today’s lean and mean business world.
A few 2007 test engines are now in service in fleets for field testing and
validation. These engines will go through another round of modification
and tweaking before each of the many engines in the Cummins lineup
is certified as being able to meet the new emission standards while
maintaining the power, durability, and quality that Cummins customers
have always enjoyed. At the same time, Cummins must also be planning
for new engine models and engine technologies that will keep it competitive
in the future. As new engine and power range
customers emerge, the company has to be ready
and able to supply them.
Clessie was born in 1888 and died in 1968. As a young man, Clessie served
as chauffeur of the W.G. Irwin family. When Clessie began to work on
refining the idea of diesel engines as useful power sources, W.G. Irwin
became the money man to finance Clessie’s research. W.G. Irwin’s goal
was to increase labor utilization in the local economy, thereby improving
the local standard of living and making Columbus, Indiana, a better place
to live and raise a family. (The company has ultimately accomplished these
goals in many locales worldwide.)
TDR writer Bruce Armstrong had a personal interview with Lyle Cummins
in August of 2004, of which we are fortunate to have a transcript. This
was done at Lyle’s home in Oregon where he continues to write books.
He covered Clessie’s early history, then moved on through his time at the
engine company and later to his retirement in California where he and Lyle
began work on other ideas Clessie had always wanted to explore.
Lyle takes us back to those early days of Cummins Engine Company and
comments on the Clessie Cummins’ first exploits with the diesel. In the
interview, Bruce poses the question, “For readers who have not read The
Diesel Odyssey of Clessie Cummins, give us an overview of your father’s role
as the founder of the ‘American Diesel Engine.’” Lyle Cummins responds:
“Dad wanted to build kerosene or small diesel oil/kerosene-burning engines.
He had experience going down the Mississippi River in a 15-foot boat and
having to convert this little gasoline engine to
burn kerosene after the engine got hot. He was
an inveterate reader. He knew what was going on
in Europe with the diesel. I doubt if he’d seen a
diesel until maybe 1912 when he was in Florida.
But, when he got back to Columbus he opened up
a machine shop that Mr. Irwin, his financial backer
and the person that Dad chauffeured for, set him
up to do. On the side, he was thinking about
building these little kerosene-burning engines.
There were a number of them that were being
built in this country under U.S. patent licenses
from R.M. Hvid, a transplanted Danish engineer
in Chicago. Clessie went to Mr. Irwin with the idea Cummins signed an agreement
of buying a Hvid license to build these farm engines. This led to the founding to sell the Hvid through the
of the ‘Cummins Oil Engine Company’ in 1919. And, for one reason or Sears Roebuck catalog on a
money-back guarantee.
another, the engines that they built in the six-horsepower size, ran pretty
well. They built less than 20 of them, maybe, and then he got this contract
through Hercules down in Evansville, Indiana. They were making ‘Therm-
oil’ engines for Sears & Roebuck, and Dad was already machining injector
parts (nozzles) for Hercules. So, one thing led to another and Dad got in
over his head because this smaller-sized engine had never been built and
there were leaks and so many fuel system problems that the whole thing
became a debacle.
On January 6, 1930, Clessie
“In the meantime, Dad had ample engine-build capability going, so he Cummins drove this 4 cylinder
decided to convert the engine to one for the marine market for the Gulf “U” powered Packard from
Indianapolis to New York
Cost shrimpers. They sold some down there that did pretty well at first and Auto Show on $1.38 worth of
then troubles began. Only by doing contract machining were the doors kept furnace oil. Overnight he was
open while a new fuel system was being developed during 1922 and 1923. a sensation: 800 miles, $1.38
In 1924 they came out with a diesel for generator sets and small boats in fuel cost, 33 MPG average. It
was just the beginning of his
one, two, three, four and ultimately six-cylinders. By 1927 the engine had promotional efforts.
been accepted by the U.S. Light House Bureau
as that specified for remote-powered, electric-
powered lighthouses. But in 1929 the depression
hit and they weren’t selling many more of these
engines. So Mr. Irwin said, ‘We’re going to close
the company down.’ That was where Dad got
the idea, in desperation, of putting one of these
diesels in a car, without the intention ever of
really building an automobile engine, but just to
keep the doors open. I mean, it was in the early
stages, you might say, in desperation days, but
with the publicity that he got for his actions it
kept the engine company’s doors open.
“I don’t know how much more you want to cover, but the important thing
about Dad was that he had the ideas. He was the genius behind the early
fuel systems. He had barely an eighth grade education, but that didn’t mean
he wasn’t educated. He knew; he had a seat-of-the-pants feel. He could
visualize things and he could tell if it was going to work or it wasn’t going to
work. I mean, he could hire engineers to do the stresses and strains, but he
could tell whether it was right. And he had the ability to charm people. He
could sell an iceberg to an Eskimo because of his enthusiasm. There was
something about him. Wherever he went, people
liked him and people would help him. He called
up people that were almost his competitors and
he’d get information that would get him out of
trouble. He could pick good people too. He hired
an engineer from the Hvid Co., who had come
down to help him out on something in the very
early ‘20s, and stayed on and retired as head of
engineering in the ‘50s. The head of sales was a
White truck salesman that he met in the early ‘30s
and he, too, retired from Cummins. He had an
affinity to be able to draw people that would help
him out and he understood everything. He was a
journeyman machinist. He could make anything
on the lathe or milling machine, or he could go In December 1931, Clessie took
out in the shop and reach into a barrel of parts and pick out the bad one. this “H” engine-powered truck
The shop people respected him because they knew he could get on that to Indy 500 track and drove it 14
machine and make it work. So he had this broad spectrum of abilities.” days non-stop for 14,600 miles
on $17.54 worth of diesel fuel.
All of his promotional efforts
To continue with the history lesson, I’ll refer back to Lyle’s book, The Diesel had begun to pay off. The H
Odyssey of Clessie Cummins. The time frame is the 30s and Clessie’s next engine was 672 cubic-inches
effort was to produce multi-cylinder engines for automotive use, and after and produced 125 horsepower
at 1800 rpm.
many years of trying, he perfected a design that was installed in several
cars and trucks that were driven around the country for publicity tours and
endurance trials. All of his efforts finally led to the
“dieselization” of America’s truck fleet in the late
1940s and early 1950s.
Later, the Suburban could be heard descending the hills in Sausalito toward
the Yacht Harbor “with two cylinders popping up through the exhaust
pipe, and you could hear it all over town.” They immediately applied for
a patent. Clessie and Lyle took their invention to Cummins, but at the
time the company had no interest. The brake ultimately was produced
by Jacobs Manufacturing Co., a drill chuck maker
in Connecticut. That was the beginning of what
is now called the “Jacobs Brake” diesel engine
compression brake.
Q: You are aware of the Harley Davidson phenomenon of the last 25 years
and its huge success. Their product can be described as being, at best, on
a par with Japanese, certainly not better: in reality the Japanese product
functionally is a superior product. But Harley Davidson makes more money
as a company selling leather jackets than the
Japanese do selling what are technically superior
motorcycles because Harley Davidson has an
aura of history, of being an American product. Do
you feel that there’s a possibility that an engine
company like Cummins could achieve a like
standing to compete against what are becoming
increasingly effective foreign competitors—Volvo,
Mercedes Benz, and others?
Epilogue
Cummins—Father of the American Truck
Diesel. Cummins—American Diesel Innovation.
Cummins—you fill in the marketing term.
Cummins—perhaps nothing further is necessary.
Speaking on behalf of TDR writers Anderson
and Armstrong and interviewee Lyle Cummins,
we have presented some portions of Cummins
company history, and some snapshots of the folks
who were intimately involved, as told from several
viewpoints. Perhaps from these bits of information
you can better understand how Cummins fits into
the diesel engine world of today as Cummins,
Inc., continues its “Diesel Odyssey.” Lyle poses behind Bruce’s ‘02
2500 Turbo Diesel.
CUMMINS
INDEPENDENCE
Lyle Cummins on the oldest
independent diesel builder in the world
by Lyle Cummins
“Of Rudolf Diesel’s personal licensees, some original names remain, but
they are not independently owned: MAN combined with Burmeister & Wain
(banks have a share of the business too), Sulzer (Wärtsilä) and Mirlees.
Deutz was a Diesel licensee and still builds engines under that name, but it
is not an independent company. Some still make diesels and are older than
Cummins like Daimler and Benz who separately built submarine diesels
during the First World War and the name is DaimlerChrysler. Fiat built WWI
sub diesels, but its large diesel business was sold off, and today it only
makes car diesels (GM just paid 2 billion to get out of bed with Fiat and
who knows if they’ll survive). None in the US predate Cummins if you stick
with either an original name and/or those who are an independent diesel
maker. And so it goes. The original Swedish builder has gone through so
many permutations it’s not recognizable. Japan began building diesels in
the early 1920s.
“So, depending on how you narrowly define things, Cummins is the oldest
independent diesel builder, with its original location. DaimlerChrysler may
even dispute this because the Chrysler name has been added. However,
Burmeister & Wain, Deutz, Kolomna, MAN and Sulzer should always be
mentioned because they are both historical and existing names going back
to the beginning. All sell loose engines besides what MAN puts into its own
trucks. The Daimler name, even though it’s now longer, should be included
because it was the second largest German sub diesel builder in WWI.”
MR. CUMMINS
More about Clessie Cummins’ early days
by Bill Millard
I
n later days Cummins Engine Company prospered, and could afford a
staff of engineers. It’s said one Friday afternoon the Company’s founder
(and original engineer) happened into a rather sizable meeting of those
folks, and asked what they were doing. They told him that a newly upgraded
engine had a low oil pressure problem, and they’d formed a committee
to work out how to fix it. They’d appreciate his input, but the technical
complexities would probably be too deep for him.
Well, he told them, it was getting late; why not just knock off for the
weekend and sleep on it. Maybe it would be better on Monday. So most
everyone left, and the founder asked his brother to quickly run up to their
supplier and have them cut new oil pump gears a half-inch wider. Somebody
else had the local foundry cast a new housing to fit. Parts in hand, they did
the required machining and slapped the bigger pump on the engine. By
Monday morning there was oil pressure to spare. The founder didn’t much
hold with committees: direct action was more his style.
The family lived in the small town of Columbus, IN, when Clessie parted ways
with school after the eighth grade. He had no patience with the classroom,
but his real education had started early; He’d figured out quite young how
to design and build steam engines and other mechanical marvels, some of
which triggered calamities on his mother’s cookstove. By the time he was
a teen he was well on the way to being a self-taught engineer.
Clessie was never “only a chauffeur,” never even a full-time one, for that
matter. Along the way he returned to Marmon several times, as well as repair
automobiles and did job work in his own Columbus machine shop. And his
experiments with engines never ceased. He settled on Diesel engines, but
it could have been most anything and he’d have been successful, given a
little backing. Such was Clessie’s intelligence, persistence—and daring.
By 1916, contract machine work had crowded out auto repairs at the
Cummins Machine Works, and Clessie had picked up a license to produce
a Dutch Diesel design called the Hvid/Brons. Soon the Cummins Engine
Company was making six-horsepower Hvid engines, which attracted the
attention of Sears, Roebuck & Company. Clessie landed a Sears contract for
more engines than he could possibly make, in largely-untried smaller sizes.
Even with W.G.’s backing, Cummins couldn’t keep up with Sears’ demand,
and the engines never worked too well anyway—Sears got lots of them
back. (Editor’s note: Folklore has it that Sears’ money-back policy was the
cause for many a return unit. The farmer would use the diesel pump engine
for the season and post-season return it for a refund.) Finally, Cummins
and Sears mutually gave it up as a bad job. This taught Clessie a lot about
testing designs before marketing engines, but capacity would long be a
worry in his small plants. It seems W.G. didn’t want to saddle Columbus
with a single, giant employer that could lay off half the town at a time. Not
good for the community or the banking business, he said.
The Hvid episode made Clessie an expert on the problems of Diesel fuel
distribution/injection and combustion chamber design, and by now he
was busy working out ways to fix them—a life-long project that would
produce dozens of patents, and ultimately make Cummins the leader in the
business. By the early twenties Cummins was a rising name in marine and
stationary applications.
But on the road? Well, imagine a day when everything out there that
wasn’t still horse-drawn was powered by gasoline, steam or electricity.
The idea of a road diesel, if anyone mentioned it at all, would just have
gotten a chuckle out of the average teamster. Diesels were just too heavy
and unresponsive, and their power band was razor-thin. Well, Clessie was
thinking about it, thinking hard, and he wasn’t chuckling. He could see a
day when everyone’s cars, not just trucks, would be propelled by strong,
economical, cool-running, reliable Diesels. They only needed perfecting
and he was almost there.
So, you can figure that when W.G. decided in late 1929 to stop backing
Clessie’s darn-fool, money-losing engine plant, Clessie knew he had to do
something radical, and fast. He went out and bought a big, used Packard.
He yanked out the engine, replaced it with one of his small, improved
Diesels, and asked a highly irritated W.G. to go for a ride. W.G. couldn’t
see the point in any ride on a cold, January day (“About to be out of a
job and you bought a what?”), until Clessie raised the hood and showed
him what was underneath. That impressed W.G. and bought Clessie time
to drive to New York for the beginning of the 1930 Auto Show. He made
sure he did that in the beneficial company of news reporter friends. This
famous ride, which grew into a 2,780-mile round-robin of the northeastern
states (on $7.70 worth of fuel) made national headlines that scooped all
the automakers’ latest offerings. At the end, Clessie was dead tired, but the
road Diesel was on its way.
Along the way he made many influential friends: guys like Eddie
Rickenbacker, Jimmy Doolittle, Packard’s Henry Joy, Henry and Edsel Ford.
He was acquainted with Walter Chrysler, Charles Kettering and many other
big names of his day. He did them favors, and they reciprocated.
And finally the message got through. The Company took off; in truck fleets,
buses, trains, heavy equipment, just about everything made for hard work
(except cars), diesel power became more and more widespread. Most
often it bore the Cummins name: best in the business. Clessie’s years of
dedication finally bore fruit.
But hard work and strenuous adventure had taken a toll on his health.
Something went wrong with his inner ear; he developed other worrying
disorders, and his doctor told him he should get out of Indiana’s climate. So
after World War II he left. He tried Florida, found it too humid and buggy,
and switched to California. He lived in Menlo Park, Gilroy, and Sausalito. He
tried to keep his hands in Cummins Diesel, but found “out of sight, out of
mind” soon took over. He was still full of good ideas, but his influence in his
own Company slipped away.
Still, he wasn’t really very good at retirement. For more than 20 years (with
help from son Lyle) he continued his lifetime quest, the ultimate diesel fuel
distribution and injection system. He came pretty close, too, but found that
back in Indiana they’d come down with that well-known “not invented here”
syndrome. That was the reaction from the other diesel manufacturers, too.
Clessie did license his system to American Bosch, who found that it just
wouldn’t sell as an aftermarket upgrade. (Is it coincidental that the fine
injector pump on today’s 5.9-liter comes from American Bosch?)
He also worked hard those days on something far better known today—
something to make a truck’s engine help the brakes slow things down.
He’d learned that a diesel can be pretty poor at that: On that coast-to-
coast record run his truck suffered a severe case of brake fade descending
California’s Cajon Pass. Skillful vehicle control and luck probably saved his
life. So he worked out a way to harness compression to do the job, then
demonstrated how effective it was. This time he did market the design
to an outfit that makes drill chucks, and today the Jacobs Brake retards
just about every heavy truck out there. (Oh, you know how truckers are—
they’ve shortened the name!)
Clessie left us in 1968, but I’m not through with him, nor should I be. He
was far more than an engine geek, publicity seeker and master promoter of
diesel power. He was also a devoted family man, faithful friend, experienced
yachtsman, accomplished photographer, expert machinist; lots of things to
crowd into a productive and eventful life. He tells you about himself in his
1967 book, My Days With the Diesel, and Lyle really fleshes out the story
in The Diesel Odyssey of Clessie Cummins, 1998. They’re both good reads,
and I’d suggest you do that.
I
n my volunteer job as Docent Trainer for the Towe Auto Museum I’ve
played some category games (always fun) with the roster of pioneers
in the American auto industry. I won’t belabor it here, but they might
be classified as the Visionaries, the Mechanicians, the Entrepreneurs, the
Managers, the Producers, the Artists and the Perfectionists. Of course,
many of these guys straddled more than one category, but I went for the
strongest traits. By this measure, the Dodge Brothers definitely fall under
the ‘mechanician’ heading.
He’s M’brother
They grew up poor in Niles, Michigan. Red-heads. Stout guys; reputedly
pretty good in a bar fight. And close—about as close as brothers can be,
John and Horace Dodge.
John and Horace were born into the machinist’s trade, worked in their
father’s marine engine shop and learned their skills from childhood. That
was their life story, really. They had the machine shop, and they had each
other. John finished high school. Shakily, Horace dropped out. Their career
would show that the machine shop had been a better teacher, anyway.
That particular shop wasn’t their career, though. Dad was a good mechanic
but a lousy businessman. John and Horace saw no future with him or in
Niles. They wandered to Battle Creek, then Port Huron, and finally Detroit.
The rest of the family came along. There was lots of work in Detroit. The
brothers hired on as journeymen at the Murphy Boiler Works. The pattern
was set even then. John “sold” the team and Horace furnished the skill
to back up his promises. They did well as boilermakers: tough guys who
could work metal. Their father did odd jobs around town.
They married late for that era; both at 28. Those unions (and subsequent
ones) were apparently practical, if not too passionate. They didn’t interfere
much with their career.
Career. In the early ‘90s John came down with tuberculosis and had to
quit boilermaking. Horace augmented their income by hiring on part-time
with a local precision machine shop, Leland and Faulconer. He learned
the meaning of close tolerances from Henry Leland. John got better and
the brothers moved with this knowledge to Dominion Typograph, on the
Canadian side. They rode bicycles to work.
By ‘97 Horace got irritated with all the dirt fouling his bike’s crankshaft
bearing. He invented a new kind that kept the dirt out and John decided
they should start their own shop to produce it. So began Evans & Dodge of
Windsor, Ontario, somehow connected to Dominion Typograph (but no one
remembers how). This enterprise moved the brothers around Canada, even
separated them for a year. By 1901 it also finally raised some capital.
With that capital the brothers founded the Dodge Brothers machine works
in Detroit. John and Horace were now car enthusiasts and the new business
served the fast-growing automobile trade. One of their first orders was for
a bunch of curved dash Oldsmobile transmissions. Ransom Olds had a
third of the car business at that time. The brothers prospered.
Then the upstart Ford Motor Company came along. Henry Ford couldn’t
capitalize a manufacturing plant, so he asked John and Horace to build the
engines and transmissions for his Model A Runabout. This would allow
Henry to start up with 12 guys merely assembling cars. Nobody remembers
why the Dodges were willing to jump in so deep; Ford sure couldn’t pay
cash until he sold cars. But something impressed them, and they were
never afraid of risk.
The venture had a rocky start but it worked out pretty well. Dodge Brothers
built the guts of most Fords for ten years and made everybody millionaires!
John was appointed to the Board of the Ford Motor Company. Eventually,
Ford elected to expand his plants and cut prices rather than pay dividends,
which led to the big split.
Of course, that decision by Mr. Ford ended up in court. Don’t they all?
In 1917 John and Horace sued for the $58 million they claimed the Ford
stockholders should have gotten, but Mr. Ford had squandered it instead.
The suit rattled around the courts for a year or so, then Mr. Ford counter-
sued, and all the while the lawyers collected their fees. Finally, in 1919 the
judge decided that Mr. Ford was wrong, that he owed John and Horace $25
million. Mr. Ford didn’t cry much when he wrote the check—it was a pretty
cheap price for getting rid of those pesky Dodges.
By 1912-13 John and Horace wanted to build their own car, anyway.
They’d had plenty of time to learn how to do a better job and the 1914
Dodge Brothers was indeed a much better job. It was half again more
money than a Model T Ford and about three times the car. It had a great
four-cylinder engine (it would power Dodge until 1928), sliding gears, self-
starter, 12-volt electrical system, and all-steel body by Budd. It was one
sweet automobile, right from the start. The new Dodge Main plant couldn’t
make enough of ‘em.
Wealth hadn’t changed these hearty brothers, though. They still liked long,
hard work days and a few beers afterwards. They loved a good time, which
eventually wore them down.
Dodge Brothers never recovered. John and Horace hadn’t let their families
in on the business. They had no clue and apparently no interest. The
sparkplugs were gone and eventually the bankers got it. Fortunately, the
outfit limped along until 1928 when it passed to Walter Chrysler’s able
hands.
CHRYSLER: THE
LIFE AND TIMES OF AN
AUTOMOTIVE GENIUS
A book review of a must-read
by Jim Anderson
T
he book is simply titled Chrysler: The Life and Times of an Automotive
Genius. It is written by Vincent Curcio, published by Oxford Press, and
it contains 699 page in hardback.
The book outlines Walter P. Chrysler’s life, but perhaps just as importantly,
paints a vivid and detailed picture of the times and the places where
he lived, worked, and eventually prospered. From the rough-and-ready
railroad towns of the West in the 1890s (the bars and bordellos were the
first buildings erected after the railroad came through), to the boardrooms
of the mushrooming midwest automotive industry in the 1910s, 20s and
30s, to New York where Chrysler eventually ran his automotive empire, this
book chronicles his walk (or race) through life.
Of course, products move to the end user mostly through the efforts of
salesmen, and while Chrysler was head of Buick, he had the best salesman
(and trainer) in the business. The gentleman’s nickname was “trainload,”
because that’s how he sold Buick cars to distributors. At that time the Buick
brand contributed more than half of the profits each year that General
Motors posted. But GM president Durant spent money faster than the
company could make it, causing Chrysler to strike out on his own path.
The book also describes the construction and occupation of the Chrysler
building in Manhattan. The building is an “art-deco” example of Chrysler’s
personality, and stands as another of his successful business ventures.
Read the book and discover, as I did, the ins and outs, ups and downs,
and the generally fun and exciting times of the automotive industry as it
grew from a novelty to a necessity. No longer is a vehicle a toy for the rich;
thanks to Chrysler, and the auto barons of the day, cars and trucks are
universally affordable.
CHRYSLER HISTORY
Another perspective as a rairoad man
by Bill Millard
W
alter Percy Chrysler. (Did anyone ever call him Walt?) He thought
up “process control” before anyone put that name to it—never
saw a setup that couldn’t be improved. He had four careers, all
successful. Most of us don’t do things like that.
ALCO wasn’t sorry. Within two years Walter had carved so much waste out
of the operation that it was turning its biggest profit ever. So, they made
him general manager of the whole company. But he wasn’t forty yet, and
still restless. The railroad business was good, but he knew that the future
was definitely the automobile.
In fact, that didn’t dawn on him suddenly. While still with the Chicago Great
Western he visited the Chicago automobile show, whose centerpiece was a
great, gorgeous white Locomobile with red leather seats. $5,000. He had
$700, and he also had a wife and two kids—might as well have wanted
the Moon. So he forgot about it, right? Wrong! He borrowed $4,300 and
bought it. After his wife recovered, he took it all apart and put it back
together again. About forty times. Until the car told him all it could about
its technology. Walter was an intense guy.
There were some banker friends who’d noticed his ingenuity, and in 1911
when Charles Nash bumped Billy Durant as head of General Motors, they
suggested that Walter should move to Nash’s old desk at Buick. He moved,
and Buick took off just as ALCO had. Walter built a dynamic team and drove
improvements in every corner of the company. Energy and brains. Took
production from forty to almost 600 cars a day in eight years, and left Buick
with profits better than $48 million a year. But leave Buick he did, because
by 1915 Billy Durant was back, and Billy’s butterfly management style
drove Walter bonkers. He’d had a good salary and considered retirement,
but at that moment John North Willys had fallen on hard times at Willys-
Overland, and the bankers asked Walter in to save the company. While
saving Willys, he was also picking up the threadbare reins of Maxwell-
Chalmers. Only two jobs—no problem!
Walter Percy Chrysler. Railroad man, High-burner. The 1930’a vintage Chrysler
Last American to start a surviving car company. Airflow.
CHRYSLER S THREE
MUSKETEERS
Chrysler’s famous engineers
by Bill Millard
I
think you’d agree that Walt Chrysler was a genius. Anyone who could
make a go of a start-up car company by the mid-1920s had to be a
master of organization, finance and production. But, most importantly,
he had to offer a product people wanted: An automobile several cuts above
the competition. I could argue that Chrysler Corporation hit the pavement
running exactly because of filling that nitch. Right away Chrysler became
the industry’s leader in engineering innovation.
You might ask, how did Walt do this? He might have been one helluva
mechanic and a born manager, but he certainly wasn’t an engineer. Well, it
turned out he didn’t have to be, because he had the “Three Musketeers.”
Carl Breer, Fred Zeder and Owen Skelton: We’ll call ‘em “B-Z-S”. The
sequence doesn’t matter much, because it’s apparent that in 35 years this
inseparable team never let ego get in their way. That’s only one remarkable
aspect of their truly remarkable story. Walt had made a fortunate choice
indeed.
B-Z-S and crew were in a fair way to hit the street at that moment, but by
then Walt had gone back to Detroit to take on Maxwell-Chalmers’ trouble.
B-Z-S talked Walt into a little interim help in keeping things together. With
that help they opened a consulting engineering business in Newark, and
in a short while were working for Billy Durant’s fledgling Durant Motors:
A new engine for the Locomobile; design work on the Flint and the Star.
But they, too, soon despaired of Billy’s butterfly management style, not
to mention his last-minute payment habits. Besides, it was obvious that
shoddy production practices had been well entrenched at Durant before
they arrived on the scene. You can bet they were happy to hear a new
summons from Walt Chrysler.
Well, Carl Breer was born in Los Angeles in 1883 and grew up around
his father’s blacksmith shop. By the time he was seventeen he’d already
designed and built his own steam car, a neat little rig that helped him get
his first job with the Tourist Automobile Company. Soon he enrolled in the
Throop Polytechnic Institute in Pasadena (today we know it as Cal Tech),
then went on to Stanford, receiving his degree in 1909. On graduating
he was selected by Allis-Chalmers Manufacturing Company in West Allis,
Wisconsin, to take part in a two-year engineering apprenticeship program.
There he met and became close friends with Fred Zeder (future brother-
in-law). After that he returned to the coast to become superintendent of
the Moreland Truck Company. By 1914 he had moved on to help form the
Home Electric Auto Works; by 1916 he’d sold out of that and started his
own engineering and fabrication business.
Fred Zeder was born in Bay City, Michigan, in 1886. He earned his
mechanical engineering degree from the University of Michigan in 1909
and, as I’ve said, followed that with his stint at Allis-Chalmers. From there
he worked for a short time helping build a power plant in Detroit, and then
went to work for Walt Flanders at E-M-F, taking over his laboratory. When
Studebaker took over E-M-F, Fred became a consulting engineer, then (in
1914) their chief engineer.
Owen Skelton was born in Edgerton, Ohio, in 1886, and entered the
automobile business at a young age. From 1905 to 1907 he worked for
Pope-Toledo, then Willys-Overland (same Toledo, Ohio, factory) as a design
draftsman. Then he took his skills to the Packard Motor Company in Detroit,
where he specialized in transmissions. This led him to be the “gears guy”
of B-Z-S.
So we’ve set the stage for 1916, when Fred Zeder had been struggling with
Studebaker’s engineering mess and needed some really high-grade help.
Thus came the call for Carl and Owen to join him. They did—and completed
the legendary trio.
In short order B-Z-S found and fixed a long list of the Studebaker’s faults,
like engine block weakness, bad main bearings, iffy carburetion and
manifolding, oil consumption, noisy valves, bad transmission and universal
joints—problems all through the cars. It was a matchless apprenticeship
for their future months with Willys-Overland, with Maxwell and in their
years at Chrysler.
They worked out a car to go with the engine, and it was just as good:
The industry’s first production four-wheel hydraulic brakes (developed
elsewhere, but perfected at Chrysler), great body, drivetrain, steering and
suspension dynamics, top speed just behind that of a Packard. All this had
a medium-range price tag and, best of all, the Chrysler name on its nose. It
was introduced in January, 1924, as the Model B-70 (as in miles per hour).
By 1925, 32,000 Chryslers had sold.
And did this lineup impress the car-buying public? Only enough to put
this upstart producer in fifth-place within two years after launch. Now,
remember that the auto industry was in a huge shakeout by this time,
years before the big crash of ‘29 would wipe out most of whoever would be
left by then. You have to believe there were lots of neverwozzer cars out
there, and people were getting real good at telling the good from the bad.
The new Chrysler—along with Walt’s reputation
and some well-placed advertising—won this
game hands-down.
A list of things they pioneered over the years would be way too long for this
space. Just skimming the top we find stuff like self-lubricating bearings,
downdraft carburation, the automatic overdrive, the “fluid drive” torque
convertor, shock absorbers, “synchronized” suspension and rubber spring
shackle bushings, rubber/steel bonded engine mounts, all helical-geared
transmissions, the production Hemi V-8 engine, electrical power windows,
vast improvements in passenger comfort . . . it’s about endless. These guys
(and their staff) were a secret weapon!
Of course they were human, too, and occasionally they stumbled. Their
real whopper was arguably their greatest technological triumph. It was
called “Airflow.”
But all wasn’t as smooth as that body. First of all, Walt was afraid GM was
going to scoop him with a streamliner of their own, so he made a rare
mistake: He pushed for production before things were fully sorted out, and
quite a few 1934 Chryslers and DeSotos were lemons.
Then there was that matter of looks. Engineering powerhouse that Chrysler
was, they cut stylists little slack (only GM had a Harley Earl . . . ) and the
buying public tended to lose focus on technical excellence while their ‘30s
eyes were seeing pure old bone-ugly. Carl Breer went to his grave thinking
his dream car was the prettiest thing ever built, but he was darn near alone
in that. (Ironically, in today’s angular/bulbous “retro” world the Airflow
would probably be red hot!)
Thus at the end of 1936 the Airflow and the Depression had dealt the
Company a serious whack, and a no-longer-healthy Walt Chrysler had
retired. The reins passed to the hands of Walt’s long-time lieutenant K.T.
Keller and the Chrysler line fell into a 20-year conservative streak. Oh,
the B-Z-S technology kept coming, but in my early years I saw Chryslers
as cars even my grandfathers would be too cool to drive. Keller, after all,
demanded as late as the early ‘50s that Chryslers roofs be tall enough to
clear men’s hats. My, how li’l ol’ Mopar has changed!
Walt Chrysler died in 1940; Carl Breer, Fred Zeder and Owen Skelton retired
in 1951. All three are gone now, of course, but their legacy surrounds us
whenever we drive: In any number of ways it’s no less than the modern
automobile.
T
he following is a book review of the latest glimpse into the takeover
game in corporate America. This book is by Detroit newspaper
automotive journalists, Bill Vlasic and Bradley Stertz, and is published
by William Morrow Company, and will cost you $26 at your local bookseller.
It is aptly titled Taken for a Ride: How Daimler-Benz drove off with Chrysler.
The book details how Daimler-Benz of Germany and Chrysler Corporation
of America became joined in an event called a merger. If you are looking
for simple entertainment, reading this book may simply leave a bad taste
in your mouth as it did in mine. It chronicles the demise of two respected
automotive names as independent entities. In the end, it isn’t a “merger.”
Life at Chrysler will never be the same again, while life at Mercedes Benz
will change very little.
Carl Benz built one of the world’s first motorcars in 1896, naming
it after his daughter, Mercedes. The company eventually grew
into a worldwide concern selling automobiles, heavy trucks,
airplanes, and other high-tech products. Daimler was the money
man, and also built a car, so they combined to form Daimler-
Benz. They have long been known for quality and engineering
prowess in the automotive world.
While the company is undeniably very successful, there are many bodies
littering the roadside along its path to power as one of the world’s largest
automotive companies. Corporate acquisitions affecting us in America
include the purchase of Freightliner Corp, one of America’s largest truck
manufacturers, who in turn purchased (using Daimler money) the venerable
American La France Fire Truck Company (an ego trip for Freightliner
president Jim Hebe who used to sell ALF fire trucks). Freightliner also
purchased Ford’s heavy truck division (again using Daimler money),
renaming it Sterling. They have also recently purchased Western Star of
Canada, another medium size truck manufacturer, and have purchased
Detroit Diesel, who own about a third of the American heavy-duty truck
diesel engine business. Along the way, as we all know, they also acquired
Chrysler Corporation, the subject of this book.
In the mid 90s Chrysler Chairman Robert Eaton was surprised to find his
company was the subject of a takeover move by Las Vegas multi-billionaire
Kirk Kerkorian, who had teamed up with the aforementioned Iacocca. The
Chrysler board quickly moved to block any such maneuver by Kerkorian,
who just happens to be Chrysler’s largest stockholder. The thought of being
owned by a Las Vegas gambler, and again being run by Iacocca, who was
hard enough to get rid of in 1992—galvanized the Chrysler board to act to
avoid this hostile takeover attempt. Firewalls were erected on all fronts.
Eaton, however, realized that Chrysler had to join hands with somebody in
order to become a global company. So far, its overseas marketing attempts
had netted nothing but losses. He felt that if Chrysler continued to go it
alone, the company would disappear within 20 years.
While Eaton thought he was looking at a partial merger, that is, the sharing
of technologies and purchasing, Schrempp was cagily looking at nothing
short of total dominance and absorption of a major company into the
Daimler organization—and he was going to run it all!
The story twists and turns through the many trips back and forth across
the Atlantic, the many meetings of staffs and division heads, the votes of
boards of directors, and the personalities and egos of the big players who
put their names on the merger agreement. It looks at the emerging new
company, and who the players are, and who has fallen battered and broken
like a worn out Plymouth taxi by the wayside.
As the thorough newsmen that they are, the authors have painstakingly
sifted facts from rumors, then checked the facts with more than one source.
We the readers have the distilled story, as straight as it can ever be told
without having been there ourselves. It moves along faster than other
books of the same type of subject such as On a Clear Day You Can See
General Motors, and the book outlining the buyout and dismantling of RJR-
Nabisco, or Fire and Ice, the description of the Revlon empire created by
eccentric Charlie Revson.
While reading Taken for a Ride you may laugh at the corporate antics,
or be saddened over the loss of good and talented people. You may be
simply indifferent to it all, but this book will also give you some insight into
modern corporate maneuvering inherent in the constant quest for position,
market share, and dollars
DAIMLER
CHRYSLER TODAY
TURBO DIESEL
REGISTER
How the TDR membership group got its start
by Robert Patton
H
ow did the Turbo Diesel Register get its start? First off, I’m a car
nut. A car nut that was in search of a tow vehicle for my admittedly
small collection of automobiles. As you can imagine, the search for
the right tow vehicle took me in the direction of the Dodge/Cummins Turbo
Diesel. My search was aided by the fact that my real job was in the diesel
engine profession as a Cummins distributor product support representative.
Do I have a good knowledge of the Turbo Diesel engine? Well, maybe. I’ll
let you be the judge.
With member and manufacturer support, the TDR is now 13 years old with
over 20,000 members.