| TVR HISTORY
TVR Engineering has had an unlikely run over its 60-plus year history, but that quirky and tumultuous path has imbued the machines bearing the name with an undeniable charisma. Along the way they have propelled TVR into England’s most successful independent sports car manufacturer.
The Early Years
The entity that would become TVR first
took shape in 1946 when Trevor Wilkinson founded Trevcar
Engineering. The name might have been a bit of a stretch,
since Wilkinson had no formal engineering training, but he
had apprenticed at an auto repair shop since age 14. Nine
years later opened Trevcar in a converted wheelwright’s
shop.
TVR proper debuted a year later when
Wilkinson brought in partner—Jack Pickard—and shortened the
company’s moniker into something a bit more catchy and
succinct. Wilkinson and Pickard built the business on a
steady flow of post-war auto repair work and light
engineering projects, but Wilkinson’s true passion was
sports cars and specials. His first foray was a one-off
special based on an Alvis Firebird chassis.
As TVR prospered, Wilkinson and Pickard
began design of their first original TVR chassis. Their pace
was measured; demands of the business required much of the
work to be done on nights and weekends, and without any
training or direct design experience progress was often a
product of trial and error. After two years of development,
they had a custom-built, tube-frame two-seater rolling,
powered by a ’37 Ford side-valve engine and fitted with
hand-formed aluminum bodywork. Their second effort was
essentially a copy of the first, except for a switch to a
wishbone front suspension setup. The third car switched to
an Austin A40 Somerset 1200cc engine and drivetrain, with a
corresponding bump in performance.
The DIY TVR
TVR had built and sold just the three
cars built and sold by 1952. In order to be commercially
viable, it was time to adopt more practical production
techniques. First to go was the handcrafted aluminum
coachwork, to be replaced by pre-molded fiberglass shells
modified to fit the TVR chassis. That chassis was adapted to
accept more Austin components, and with these changes TVR
moved into a new phase. Kit cars were all the fashion in
mid-50’s Britain, and the design revisions made the TVR
well-suited to kit format. Meanwhile, Wilkinson was
campaigning his design in select races and rallies with fair
success, and the exposure generated demand for TVR. Between
1954 and 1956, TVR delivered three complete hardtop sports
saloons and 17 chassis in kit form. Most of the kit TVRs
used the A40 Somerset powertrain, but TVR added MG TF and
MGA 1500cc and Lea Francis 2496cc engines to the repertoire.
Meanwhile, Wilkinson brought in additional investors to join
TVR, including Bernard Williams. A board of directors was
established to help manage the financial aspects of the
company, freeing Wilkinson up to concentrate purely on
design and assembly.
The American Connection
TVR’s success drew an admirer from this
side of the pond: a Manchester, New Hampshire import dealer
Ray Saidel. Saidel wanted a competition-spec chassis fitted
with 1100cc Coventry Climax motor. Wilkinson had also been
working on an independent rear suspension based on a
modified VW Beetle front suspension. He installed both and
the chassis was delivered to Saidel in 1956, who christened
it the “Jomar” after his children, Joanna and Marc. Its
racing success prompted Saidel to order two more Jomars, and
he was soon designated TVR’s official US distributor. He
then arranged for a dramatic showing at the 1957 New York
Auto Show for TVR’s new model the Coupé. Saidel took 200
orders for it—ten times as many as the factory could
fulfill. But the increased business as well as technical
feedback from racing efforts helped build momentum for TVR,
paving the way for the first mass-produced model, the
Grantura.
TVR Shifts Gears
The Grantura was an evolution of the
Coupé and the chassis remained essentially the same, with
its VW-based suspension and powertrain options including the
Coventry-Climax, MGA and Ford side-valve engines. The major
advance was in styling. The new car employed a
fastback-style rear body section and other styling elements
that would become TVR signatures—including the
forward-flipping hood and large sloping backlight.
The volume of US orders was both a
blessing and a curse. The extra business was great, but it
revealed amateur assembly technique and business management.
Slow production and frequent parts supply problems meant
most of those orders would never be filled, and those that
did were plagued by poor build quality. Many customers lost
faith or patience and cancelled their orders. This, in turn,
led to Saidel canceling his distributorship contract.
These developments put TVR in financial
turmoil despite relatively high demand for the cars. In
response, the board of directors restructured TVR into
Layton Sports Cars Ltd. in 1958. Wilkinson remained in
control of design for now, but he was increasingly
answerable to the board, and they set as their top priority
to raise production capacity. Gradually the plan worked, and
100 Granturas had been delivered by the time the Mk 2
debuted in 1960.
The Mk 2 was to be the final TVR in
which Wilkinson had any significant role in the development.
The board had appointed a former Rolls Royce engineer John
Thurner as technical director in 1960, gradually displacing
Wilkinson. By the time the Grantura Mk 3 arrived in 1962,
Wilkinson had sold his remaining stake in the company he
founded, and left with original partner Pickard to start a
new venture.
Charmed Third
Meanwhile, the Mk 3 was essentially a
new venture for the company—which was badly in need of one.
The new car retained the ‘Grantura’ name because it shared
the same basic body mold with the previous car, but it rode
on an all-new Thurner-designed chassis with a longer
wheelbase and a double wishbone/coil spring suspension. The
longer chassis, together with softer springs and a stiffer
structure was meant to improve ride quality and help the car
appeal to a wider audience. It also served as the basis for
the Griffith 200, a brute of a special that replaced the
4-cylinder with a fire-breathing Ford 289 V-8 ala the Shelby
Cobra.
The Mk 3 and the Griffith weren’t
enough to keep TVR afloat—expensive works racing efforts and
extravagant escapades by board members landed the majority
of TVR holdings into receivership. Longtime board member
Bernard Williams was there to pick up the pieces, buying
back the assets of the company—including the stockpile of Mk
3 components to continue production under the banner of
Grantura Engineering Ltd.
Midway through Mk 3 production TVR
switched to the 1.8L MGB engine and gave the Mk 3 styling
makeover. Front wheel arches added some muscle to the car’s
profile, but the most dramatic change was to the rear where
a more prominent tail framed a the larger, wider arcing rear
window that would remain a TVR styling element for the next
15 years. The revised Grantura was re-designated the 1800S
and a new version of the Griffith dubbed the 400.
The Lilleys Gild TVR
If the early years under founder
Wilkinson established TVR’s identity, the Lilley Era
solidified and evolved it. Martin Lilley was a promising
young automotive engineer and Griffith owner who, together
with his father Arthur, became TVR investors in the early
‘60’s. When TVR once again stumbled financially and in late
1965 teetered on the brink of collapse, the Lilleys stepped
in to protect their investment—by acquiring TVR. The Lilleys
brought solid business sense to their new company. Their
first task was finishing production on the remaining 1800S
cars. The following year the final Grantura—the Mk 4
1800S—was released. The Lilleys favored a more
driver-friendly car with better amenities and a more
comfortable ride, and the Mk 4 reflected that.
The Lilleys also kept an eye on
controlling costs, and the MGB 1.8L powertrain that gave the
1800S its name was expensive. The decision was made to
switch to the 1.6L Ford Cortina GT, which was considerably
more affordable. Obviously the name had to be changed as
well, but rather than take a step back numerically, a new
model name was adopted—the Vixen S1—this despite the fact
that the car was essentially identical to the previous Mk 4.
As an owner of an original Griffith,
Martin Lilley was especially fond of the big-displacement
TVR. He was keen to produce another car with that sort of
explosive performance and image. Using the Mk 4 as the
platform, TVR again installed Ford’s potent 289 and the
Tuscan V8—and a new TVR tradition—was born. Martin Lilley
also sought to eliminate the parts supply problems that had
plagued TVR production throughout its history. One way he
envisioned was moving the fiberglass molding process
completely in-house, rather than contracting it out. The
Tuscan was the first such effort, motivated perhaps by the
need for a wider body than the existing molds. Soon
thereafter, all body molding was being done by TVR.
The Long and the Short of it
TVRs still had a reputation for being a
handful to drive at the limit, and no wonder with their
diminutive 84-inch wheelbase. By lengthening that, TVR could
increase stability, improve ride quality, and mitigate the
somewhat stumpy look of the car as compared to some of the
more flowing sports car designs of the day. The Tuscan and
the Vixen were recast with 90-inch wheelbases; the latter
being designated the S2. This allowed the doors to be
lengthened, allowing easier access for driver and passenger.
Significant improvements in build-quality and assembly
technique accompanied the new chassis and body molding
processes.
Gradually this steady stream of
improvements to both cars and business practices paid off,
and TVR got back on firmer footing. The Vixen was selling
well—in fact, the S2 sold well over 400 units in its
three-year run, making it by far the most successful TVR
model to date, and the S3 and S4 held their own as well. By
1970 things were going so well that TVR needed to expand to
a bigger factory
Though it was never a volume seller,
the big-engine Tuscan was a valuable image-builder for TVR.
But importing Ford V8s from America was expensive, and
market potential was always going to be limited. TVR began
to wonder if there might be a more affordable alternative
that utilized an engine that was available domestically and
that filled the hole in the market between the little 1.6L
Vixen and the thundering V8 Tuscan. The answer also came
from the European Ford parts bin in 1969, in the form of the
3.0L Ford Essex V6. It seemed a natural fit for the TVR
brand, but sales never really took off. Perhaps it was the
fact that, at 136hp, the V6 offered only about a 40hp bump,
along with a 300+ pound weight penalty. Perhaps customers
felt the V6 didn’t offer enough extra oomph to justify the
extra cost. A further complication came when America
instituted emissions control regulations in 1971. The
European-built engine could not meet the emissions
requirements, and so was not exported to the U.S.—which was
TVR’s second-biggest market. It would take a new engine to
make 6 cylinders a winner for TVR.
That engine would be the British
Leyland 2.5L straight 6 from the Triumph TR6. The TR6 was
marketed in the U.S. so the engine was already
emissions-compliant. It was less powerful than the 3.0L
Ford, but with compression ratios falling across the
automotive world, buyers were becoming accustomed to reduced
performance. The Triumph powertrain was proven reliable, and
the straight arrangement had some weight and packaging
benefits in the TVR’s tight engine bay. So in it went, and
the new model was dubbed the 2500—it would foreshadow
important things to come for TVR.
A New Era
With safety and emissions regulations
changing seemingly by the minute in both the U.S. and
Europe, the decidedly non-standardized, largely hand-built
chassis that TVR had used for most of the last decade was
overdue for an update, and Lilley knew the next chassis
needed the flexibility to adapt to changing regulations as
they cropped up. That was the concept behind the M chassis.
Like the outgoing design, it was a tube frame design, but it
used heavier gauge tubing in heavy stress areas, with square
tubing braces. The suspension was still double-wishbone,
with some minor revisions to pickups and spring placement.
The body used was all new, though it
closely resembled the widebody Tuscan V8 from the previous
generation. The biggest difference was the nose, which had
been stretched nine inches and sloped downward for a much
more modern, sporting appearance. It also served to enhance
crash protection, particularly since the spare tire now rode
in the nose, above the radiator.
Ironically, it was not the M’s body
that drew the most attention at the car’s 1971 introduction.
Rather, it was two bodies of a different—more
biological—sort. Two models had been hired to pose with the
cars for publicity photos. What drew the attention is that
they did so unfettered by any distracting attire—or, any
attire at all for that matter. The scene of the notorious
photo shoot with the two nude girls draped all over the M
created quite a buzz, so it was repeated on press day for
reporters’ eyes and camera lenses. So sensational was the
stunt that in some ways it overshadowed the car itself.
Luckily, the distraction did not prevent buyers from signing
up.
Powertrain options remained the same,
though all had more work to do since the beefed up M chassis
was heavier than the outgoing model. Ford’s 1.6L four and
3.0L V6 powered the 1600M and 3000M, respectively. But by
far the most popular was the Triumph-powered 2500M—some 947
examples were sold between 1972 and 1977, setting a new
record for TVR.
Just when things were going so well…
With the M series selling well, the
stars finally seemed aligned for TVR—until January of 1975
when disaster struck. This time the trouble was not, at
least initially, financial. Rather, fire broke out in the
factory overnight and destroyed the main assembly area and
several cars that were in the pipeline. It took a year and a
half for TVR to fully recover, but TVR employees had long
been used to adversity, and they rebounded with amazing
efficiency. They had the assembly up and running—or at least
walking slowly—by April.
Even as the company recovered from the
fire, it had several new developments in the works for the M
cars. News on the body design front included a special
hatchback version called the Taimar that came out in 1976.
The fastback styling changed little from the standard M
coupe, but rear access was dramatically improved. Even more
exciting, a convertible version called the 3000S was
introduced in 1978, returning a proper roadster to the TVR
lineup—one with classy lines that were as good as or better
than the hardtop’s.
There was news on the powertrain front
as well. The emissions issues that had prevented the 3000M
from being sold stateside had been overcome, and from ’77-79
the 3.0L V6 was available to all markets. In addition, a
special high-performance 3000M Turbo model was developed in
1975, making it one of the first turbocharger applications
available as a factory option. With 230hp propelling just
2400 pounds, it was a huge step up, giving TVR the firepower
to compete with some of the more exotic sports car marques
on the market at the time.
WEDGE ISSUE
As the ‘80s loomed, Lilley felt
pressure to modernize the look of TVR, which had always
featured very traditional, derivative styling—for better or
worse. The M cars were undeniably TVR, but some felt that a
1979 model that looked so similar to a 1964 model was a
liability. Lilley hired ex-Lotus designer Oliver
Winterbottom, who had worked closely with the Giugiaro
studio in producing the Esprit. The result was the Tasmin, a
chiseled, swept-back wedge of a coupe that could not have
looked less like the TVR models that came before. With such
straight lines and flat surfaces, the Tasmin featured none
of the little scoops, flairs and creases that had defined
(and sometimes cluttered) TVR to that point. Quite the
contrary—the Tasmin’s sheetmetal was unadorned almost to the
point of being bland, or at least unfinished. Mechanically
the Tasmin was a solid effort, with Ford’s stout
fuel-injected 2.8L ‘Cologne’ V6 making 160hp—very good for a
2350-pound sport coupe by 1980 standards. But that wasn’t
enough to overcome the controversial styling. Compound that
with the new car being excluded from the American market,
which had been a staple of TVR’s business for a decade, and
TVR was on the rocks again. Rather than be the man
responsible for killing the company, Lilley sold it to Peter
Wheeler, and another chapter in TVR’s Byzantine history
began.
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