Ruxton saga good enough for Netflix

EVER heard of a car called a Ruxton?

If not, you can buy a book about the remarkable US brand of the 1920s, appropriately called The Ruxton Automobile.

It’s by Jim Fasnacht and is a hardcover that runs to 276 pages – and costs some $1000 Aussie dollars.

Seems a bit steep for a brand that made fewer than 100 cars, but the story of the car, said to have been on a par with Duesenberg and Cord at the time, is a tale worthy of Hollywood — or maybe Netflix.

The drama started before the first car was even built and was named after William V C Ruxton, a prominent Wall Street investment banker

Ruxton dissociated himself from the project after a dispute with Archie Andrews, an affluent Wall Street trader who was a major shareholder in the Budd Company and had a history of business shenanigans.

He sued Andrews in an attempt to stop his name from being used, but to no avail.

The car was the work of William J Mueller, a brilliant engineer and renowned racing driver who worked in the Edward G Budd Company, which was a major supplier of railway carriages and body parts for America’s then burgeoning car industry.

It was Mueller who drove the famous front-wheel-drive Gila Monster on an oval track in Texas in 1913 and noted the later successes of Harry Miller’s front-drive racing cars at Indianapolis.

He had a chat with Edward G Budd, who shared Mueller’s enthusiasm and believed a fully functional front-wheel drive system would be a lucrative product for the Budd Company to sell to a major manufacturer. 

To demonstrate the advantages of front-wheel drive, Mueller built a prototype, the classic lines penned by Joseph Ledwinka, an American relative of renowned Austrian engineer Hans Ledwinka of Tatra fame.

The result was a stunning low-slung car with ultra modern styling, top quality features and an innovative transmission that allowed for a lower chassis than any of its rivals. 

Under the long bonnet was a 100 bhp 4.4-litre Continental eight-cylinder engine, and a set of Woodlite headlights flanked the Griffon badge.

It was a sight that demanded attention.

 

However, the Budd Company did not build cars, so various manufacturers were approached to fill that role.

By March of 1929, a deal was struck with the Hupp Automobile Company to further develop and produce the new front-wheel drive car.

The partnership with Hupp lasted only a month, however, and by April of 1929, Andrews again had to find a manufacturer.

To allow for outside investments to be made, he established a new company known as New Era Motors. 

The Gardner Motor Company of St. Louis was the second to jump at the chance of building Ruxtons, and a deal was reached in mid- 1929.

But they had a re-think after checking their bank accounts and cancelled the agreement.

Next there were talks with Stutz, Jordan and Peerless —none of which came to fruition.

But Andrews convinced the reputable Marmon Motor Company of the success that was sure to follow and a contract was to be signed on October 29 — the very day Wall Street crashed.

So the Marmon Motor Company also walked away from the deal.

A desperate Andrews next struck a deal with the Moon Motor Car Company. 

Moon agreed to assemble the Ruxton in return for shares in New Era, and to add Andrews to their board of directors. 

Soon after, Andrews seized control of Moon via a hostile takeover and appointed eight new directors to the Moon board. 

Moon’s ousted CEO and directors barricaded themselves in the plant, but Andrews got a court order and, assisted by police, broke into the plant and escorted the old guard off the premises.

The next business partner would be Kissel, who had been initially been asked to construct the unique Ruxton drivetrain. 

So production of the magnificent cars finally got underway.

While Andrews’ business practices were of the cut-throat kind, he did have a good sense of style.

He called in the help of famous New York set designer Joseph Urban to provide striking liveries for the Ruxton. 

The unique Urban colour schemes consisted of two or more bright hues and to further increase the appeal of the car to the wealthiest of buyers, Schumacher of New York was commissioned to supply the fabrics for the interiors. 

Soon after partnering with Kissel, Andrews again tried to take control. 

The two Kissel brothers, George and Will, stood up to his practices and thwarted the effort by placing the company in voluntary receivership. 

That proved to be the final spanner in the Ruxton works and by November of 1930, the Moon Motor Company filed for bankruptcy.

New Era Motors followed five days later.

Only 96 Ruxtons were ever built, placing them among the rarest high-end cars of the era.

They were made in several body styles and they were pricey vehicles, the least expensive model selling for $4500 — nine times the price of a new Ford and 40 per cent higher than a competing Cord L-29. 

So one of what might have been the finest cars of its time came to an early and unfortunate end.

Of the 96 made, only 19 are known to still exist, most of them in pristine condition and worth a heck of a lot more than their original $4500.

Seven of those 19 are owned by Jim Fasnacht, who wrote the book on the Ruxtons.

Also unusual is that although Andrews was involved in the company for only two years, the litigation that resulted from his dealings took all of 35 years to settle.

 

 

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