This Company Tried To Turn Cheap Pontiacs Into The World’s Most Expensive Cars

The cars of the 1970s were just as fascinating as the decade itself. Both size and power took hits while style became polarizing in the name of safety. Many felt the cars of the so-called Malaise Era were a low point in automotive history, but there was a ridiculous bright spot. Stutz was back, sort of, and it took some of the era’s polarizing hoopties and made them into something fun.

I’ve been a bit obsessed with the 1970s lately. Admittedly, many of the cars I’ve written about were built nearly two decades before I was born. It’s been a long time since then, but the cars of the era still leave a bad taste in the mouths of our older readers. I love finding value in even the most unloved cars and there’s a lot to love from the 1970s that perhaps many of us have either forgotten or pushed out of our minds.

General Motors was one of the brands that struggled its way through the trying times of the 1970s. We’re talking about cars that rusted on the showroom floor and 350 cubic inch V8s that made 125 HP. To be fair to the General, it wasn’t the only one who struggled. Everyone had a hard time in the 1970s, even the European brands that the American brands drooled over trying to beat back then.

If the controversial style of the times wasn’t for you, there was a weird antidote with the Neoclassic (above), a new car that replicated — sometimes poorly — the looks of the 1920s and the 1930s. It wasn’t that new of a thing, but it really took off, and Stutz came back from the dead to convert GM products into stuff that’s cooler.

Amazingly, we’ve mentioned Stutz a lot over the life of the Autopian and even at the old site, but we haven’t really written about Stutz, which is a shame.

Stutz is on the list of once prestigious automakers that died long ago, only to be forced back into existence kicking and screaming. Packard is another name that keeps on getting revived, yet never long enough for anyone to remember if they even got a chance to buy a single example. Even Studebaker keeps popping up in the news from time to time and the Silver Knight Group swears you’re going to see a new Stude’ next year.

Stutz refuses to die, too. Investor Warren Liu has owned the brand since 1982 and last promised a revival in 2016. That hasn’t happened yet, so the baroque cars on your screen right now are some of the newest Stutz-branded cars you can buy.

Why Stutz Is Famous

As RM Sotheby’s writes, Harry Stutz was one of those mechanical geniuses of the late 1890s. He grew up fixing agricultural equipment on his family farm and later opened up his own machine shop. Back when Stutz was a 21 or 22-year-old he used his mechanical experience to take retired farm equipment and cobbled them together, creating his first car, the Old Hickory. This car was built in 1897 or 1898, right around the time when so many other dreamers put together their own bicycles, motorcycles, and cars. Despite its humble origins, the Old Hickory had features we take for granted today like a reverse gear.

Cars had long been Stutz’s dream, and he left his life in Ohio in search of an auto mecca. By 1903, Stutz found himself in Indianapolis, which was a hotspot of automotive activity back then. Jumping from employer to employer was common for Stutz and he bounced from the likes of the G&J Tire Company and the Schebler Carburetor Company, never getting to design cars like he really wanted to.

His persistence would pay off in 1906 when he was hired by the American Motor Car Company (not that American Motors), where Stutz flexed his design muscles to create a 30 to 40-horsepower touring car. A year later, Stutz would take his updated resume to Marion Motors and scored a role as the company’s chief engineer. At Marion, Stutz was a racecar driver, but he also managed to design a rear axle-mounted transaxle. In 1910, Stutz changed his employer again, but this time he – with help from financier Henry Campbell – decided to open up a shop of his own, the Stutz Auto Parts Company, to produce the transaxle.

Stutz would finally get his chance to design cars again in 1911 when he built a car for the men most famous for paving the Indianapolis Motor Speedway with bricks. That car went on to place 11th out of 22 during the inaugural Indianapolis 500. Campbell and Stutz joined forces again, opening the Ideal Motor Car Company. Finally, Stutz’s dream came true.

People wanted the racecar so much that Stutz put a version of it into production, creating the iconic Bearcat. The American Heritage Museum notes just how awesome the Bearcat was:

Duplicate cars were for sale with a 50 horsepower (hp) Wisconsin engine and a right hand drive steering wheel. The car was offered in Roadster, Tonneau, and Touring models each priced at $2000.

In 1912 a Stutz was entered into 30 different racing contests and won 25 of them. In the 5 years following 1912, production went from 266 to 2,207 cars. This increase was because of the brands successful racing team.

The Bearcat is the most memorable model built by Stutz. The name lasted from 1914 through 1934. The Bearcat was the car used in Erwin “Cannon Ball” Baker’s record setting coast-to-coast drive, inspiration for the later Cannonball Run outlaw race and movies. Baker drove his Bearcat from California to New York in eleven days, seven hours, and fifteen minutes.

For further context, the Bearcat had a top speed of 72 mph, which was blisteringly quick back then, especially when you remember that roads were rudimentary if existent at all back then. Stutz became such a famed early sports car brand that it was the top competition for Mercer. Reportedly, even silly car enthusiast taunts were a thing in the 1910s as Mercer owners said “You must be nuts to drive a Stutz,” while Stutz owners would retort “Nothing’s worser than driving a Mercer.” That sounds like some of the fake history Jason Torchinsky would write!

Stutz enjoyed a nice place in the market. His cars were expensive, but he had enough demand to make a couple of thousand cars a year while raking in an impressive $400,000 in profit. Still, Stutz wanted to expand and he found New York stockbroker Alan A. Ryan, who invested in 1916. Ryan would gain control of the company, reducing Stutz to the role of President.

Stutz continued to invent, including a four-cylinder engine with four valves per cylinder that made 80 HP. Sadly, Stutz reportedly didn’t like how Ryan was more concerned with money than making cars, so he left his own company in 1919, launching the H.C.S. Motor Company in the wake. Stutz would continue to make sporty cars but also branched out into taxis, fire engines, and even aviation engines before his death in 1930.

Stutz began faltering without its founder. The company was taken over by Bethlehem Steel magnate Charles M. Schwab in 1922. As the book The Splendid Stutz writes, via the Stutz Club, here’s how it all fell apart:

To revive the marque, they brought in an experienced automotive executive and engineer, Frederick E. Moskovics, inaugurating the third era. Moskovics sparked a radical redesign of the car in 1926 by featuring a powerful eight-cylinder engine with an overhead camshaft, mounted in a low-slung chassis that could accommodate stylish bodies. For a while, Stutz continued to be active in competition, winning the Stevens Trophy for reliability in 1927 and receiving the AAA designation as America’s fastest stock car. In 1931, Stutz reached the pinnacle of engineering with its dual camshaft 32-valve engine but, as a high-priced, low-production car, was unable to survive the Depression.

The last Stutz was manufactured in 1934 after a total of only 35,000 cars were produced in the company’s 25-year history. As a final tribute, all Stutzes manufactured during the Classic era (1925-1948) are officially recognized as Full Classics as defined by the Classic Car Club of America.

The World’s Most Expensive Car, Sort Of

Stutz sputtered out at the end of the 1930s, finally putting up the white flag in 1939. Then it stayed dead for nearly 30 years. That was until Virgil Exner, known for such greats as Chrysler’s “Forward Look” design philosophy and the Studebaker Starlight, got an idea.

The year was 1968 and America was going through the early years of Neoclassic car designs spearheaded by the likes of the Excalibur. Back in 1961, Esquire magazine commissioned Exner to imagine what the cars of Duesenberg, Mercer (below), Packard, and Stutz would look like in 1963 had those brands not died. At first, Exner was supposed to be the designer for an actual Duesenberg revival (also below), but that project fizzled out before it could get off of the ground.

New York banker James O’Donnell, who previously worked at 3M and American Machine and Foundry, was supposed to back the Duesenberg project. After it flopped, he never wanted to give up the dream of making Exner’s Esquire designs real. He partnered up with Exner again and went to work. O’Donnell did some research and found out that ultra-luxury cars were selling well. He also visited Exner’s studio where he, in his own words, fell in love with a car that Exner said had a “phallic” look.

Exner felt if they were going to make that car a reality, they needed to base it on something with a long hood. He decided going to GM was going to be the best bet for that and the two landed at the desk of John Z. DeLorean at Pontiac. DeLorean was willing to hand the pair the Pontiac Grand Prix for their project. In O’Donnell’s own recollection of the events, it seemed DeLorean wasn’t threatened by the Stutz revival, saying he’d sell a million Pontiacs while Stutz was busy making just the prototype of its car.

In case you had any doubt of O’Donnell’s intentions, the Tampa Bay Times wrote that his goal for the new Stutz was to make a car “for the discriminating and very wealthy only.” A Pontiac Grand Prix for the fabulously wealthy, that is. How wealthy? I’m glad you asked.

The Stutz Motor Car of America was formed in 1968 and those Pontiacs were sent off to Carrozzeria Padane outside of Turin in Italy to be coachbuilt into the neo-Stutz cars. Over in Italy, Hagerty writes, the Pontiacs had their metal trim covered in 18K gold plating. O’Donnell said everything from the steering wheels to the cigarette lighters plated in gold. He claimed even the engine’s oil dipstick was plated in 18K gold, because why not. If that wasn’t enough gold, buyers also got gold-plated ignition sticks.

The early cars also got Australian lamb’s wool on the floor and ceiling, English leather seats, burled walnut trim, and a Learjet radio. Later, O’Donnell expanded the absurdity. The cars would get mink carpeting, thrones, optional armor plating, and even optional machine guns.

If none of this was crazy enough for you, I think you should know that in 1970, Stutz arrived at the New York Waldorf Astoria Hotel with the Stutz Blackhawk, which was marketed as the most expensive car in the world. Its base price was $26,500 ($221,298 today), which was about the average price of a new home in America at the time.

We’re not entirely sure if the Stutz was the absolute most expensive car in the world. Keep in mind that a 1975 Rolls-Royce Camargue was £29,250. The Ferrari F40, which did come later but was still in the Neo-Stutz production run, was $399,150 ($1,133,069 today) when new. For sure, the Stutz-ified Pontiac Grand Prix was certainly among the most expensive cars of its day.

Neo-Stutz also wanted to make sure prices stayed in the stratosphere. By the mid-1980s, the Blackhawk reached $115,000 while Stutz was willing to sell you a limo for $285,000. Keep in mind that all of these cars were based on comparatively plebian GM products.

Completed Blackhawks made their way to the only dealer for the revived Stutz, Jules Meyers Pontiac in Los Angeles, where Stutz hoped to attract celebrity buyers. The second prototype Blackhawk was paraded around Los Angeles, catching the attention of none other than Elvis Presley. Elvis loved it so much that he demanded to buy the prototype on the spot even though it was actually supposed to go to Frank Sinatra. Elvis sweetened the deal by willing to be in promotions for the car, so it was snatched out of Sinatra’s clutches.

This strategy worked. The revived Stutz sold to such famous names as Evel Knievel, Barry White, Sammy Davis Jr., and Lucille Ball. Meanwhile, the cars snaked their way into television and movies, appearing as symbols of wealth.

Stutz stayed married to GM, too. The Blackhawk coupes of the 1970s were built out of Pontiac Grand Prix while the models of the 1980s switched to the Bonneville. Stutz also started selling the Bearcat in 1976, which was initially just a Blackhawk with the roof chopped off. The Bearcat ended up being based on a lot of models, riding on the Pontiac Bonneville, Buick LeSabre, or Oldsmobile Delta 88 Royale until the mid-1980s, when it switched to the Pontiac Firebird and Chevrolet Camaro.

Stutz also sold Buick, Pontiac, and Oldsmobile-based sedans as well as Cadillac DeVille-based limousines. Perhaps the craziest Stutz revivals — which is impressive because this whole thing was wacky — were the Chevrolet Suburban-based Stutz armored or convertible SUVs of the mid-1980s. You’re also probably wondering about firepower and I do have good news about that. The Stutz revivals usually came equipped with the larger engine options from their respective models, but they were still just as choked by emissions equipment as their base cars.

Making Cars Is Hard

The bigger problem was that, as Hagerty writes, the new Stutz concern quickly learned that its business model wasn’t sustainable. At first, the Stutz Motor Car of America company took completed GM vehicles, shipped them to Italy, had the vast majority of the vehicle cut out and thrown away, and then rebuilt. Then the cars were loaded onto planes and flown back to America. Even though Stutz was pricing these cars outrageously high, the company was still losing money on each one. How bad was it? Stutz lost $10,000 on each of the original 25 Blackhawks.

Stutz tried to stem the bleeding by switching coachbuilders and by dialing back Exner’s wild designs. Later Stutz examples wouldn’t have the distinctive split windshield and the coachbuilder would save substantially more componentry and structure from the donor cars than before.

Then, the rest of the world just changed around Stutz. The company lost its designer when Exner passed in 1973, its sole distributor closed in 1976, its promoter, Elvis, died in 1977, and then the 1980s rolled in, ushering in an age of futuristic technology and design. New cars that looked like cars from the 1920s suddenly became old hat.

Amazingly, Stutz managed to limp along until 1995 before finally running out of gas. Around 617 cars were built in total, and all of them are delightfully bonkers. Sadly, mostly everyone involved in neo-Stutz is gone now. James O’Donnell passed in 1997, two years after his company closed up business.

A casual look at the Stutz market suggests that while these cars may have been among royalty when they were new, they’re not anymore. Prices for the Stutz Blackhawk suggest you could get one for under $70,000. Heck, there’s one for sale right now for the princely sum of $29,900. What a long fall from grace. The later models seem to have a similar thing going on.

These cars have always looked weird and it’s a giggle when you see that yes, Stutz really went above and beyond to turn 1970s GM Malaise into something you were supposed to buy over a Rolls-Royce. The company may not have achieved its promise of making a Pontiac Grand Prix the most expensive car in the world, but I love the fact that Stutz tried. These cars may be out of place and out of time, but I hope people keep making them. They’re just the right amount of silly.