Corvettes by Design, by Chuck Jordan

Corvettes by Design

by Chuck Jordan

From “Jordan’s Style”

Sports Car International, June–July 1996

Much has been written about the history of the Corvette from an engineering stand point (“Zora for President!”). But there’s another part of Corvette history that’s equally important, and that’s Corvette design.

Let’s be clear: The Corvette was born in the GM Styling studios, and the Corvette’s father was Harley Earl; none other. This took place back in the early 1950s, at a time when everyone was all excited about the Jaguar XK120 and sports cars that raced through the streets of Watkins Glen.

It was also a time when General Motors staged yearly extravaganzas called Motoramas at New York’s posh Waldorf-Astoria Hotel and other venues across America. These were big shows that introduced the coming year’s production cars along with a number of GM showcars. The Motorama was Harley Earl’s brainchild, and GM Styling not only laid out the shows, it also designed and fabricated the dream cars that became the stars.

For the 1952 Motorama, a very special car was being designed in a secret studio on the third floor of an ancient Fisher Body plant a short distance from GM’s Detroit HQ. The studio had a NO ADMITTANCE sign on the door, and only Harley Earl and a few others were allowed inside.

I’d recently been hired by General Motors and happened to be working one floor above this secret studio. We all knew about it, but didn’t know what was going on inside, so we were very curious. After working late one night, I decided to just go down and see what the mystery was all about. I unlocked the door with my passkey, turned on the light—and absolutely couldn’t believe my eyes! In the center of the room stood a full-sized clay model of the neatest 2-seat sports car I’d ever seen. Those graceful surfaces, the wraparound windshield, the covered headlights and flush concealed top—it was sensational. It seemed to be doing 100 mph just standing still. I stood there stunned.

That first Corvette stole the show at the ’52 Motorama. It caught everyone totally by surprise, and the public reaction was so overwhelming that GM decided to produce the car. That’s basically how the Corvette came into being.

Harley Earl created the Corvette, yes, but it was William L. (Bill) Mitchell, the man who took over from Earl, who actually had more to do with the Corvette’s image, evolution, and excitement than anyone else (sorry, Zora!). Mitchell became obsessed with Corvettes. He always maintained a special studio to work on them, and this was Bill’s release—his break from the hard work of production design. He could exercise his passion for sports cars and his love of racing down there, and as a result, he spent a lot of time in “his” Corvette studio.

In 1962, I found myself promoted to director of GM design, meaning I was Mitchell’s assistant for exterior design. It was my job to follow Bill around, to help him out, and to sometimes do some of his dirty work for him. So I witnessed Bill’s most prolific period up close, and I want to say right now that it was Bill Mitchell who designed all the Corvettes done during his vice presidency, no doubt about it (sorry, Shinoda!). Sure, there were lots of designers making sketches and developing ideas that influenced Bill, but if any of them got too aggressive, Mitchell would just say, “Don’t flatter yourself, kid—I design the Corvettes around here.” And he did.

Mitchell’s passionate efforts produced some wonderful and significant show cars, many of which he drove on the street as his personal transportation—standouts like the Mako Shark and Manta Ray. But none was more important to Corvette history than his own competition car, the fabulous 1959 Sting Ray racer.

I remember the development of that car vividly. Bill told us exactly what he wanted—a smooth body with a break line all the way around and fender bumps over all four wheels—and he made sure he got exactly what he wanted. Mitchell liked this design so much that when it came time came to start work on the ’63 production Corvette, he simply said, “Make it like the Sting Ray.” And again, he got exactly what he wanted.

This came at what I consider the most exciting period in Corvette history, and I’ve always believed that this excitement showed up in the design. I remember thinking while the street version’s clay was being roughed out, “Wow—this is really a show car. How will it ever make production?”

The coupe became our focus. We developed the body, including Mitchell’s favorite boattail upper, as one total shape. The 1963 split-window Coupe is my all-time favorite, because it’s pure Corvette and pure Bill Mitchell. That car was a winner when it first came out, and it’s still a winner today.

The mid-engined period was another great era in Corvette design. We were all fascinated by mid-engined sports cars, Mitchell most of all. This was probably the first (and only) time he agreed with Zora. When GM had the Wankel rotary engine under development we seized the opportunity to design an advanced, mid-engined Corvette using that powerplant. The 4-Rotor Corvette, with its double-tapered profile, Vee windshield, and super-clean surfaces, was an absolutely new and bold Corvette design statement. Of course, it soon became apparent that the Wankel wouldn’t fly as a production item at GM, so the 4-Rotor was renamed “Aerovette” and fit with a 400-inch V8. Even then, though, a mid-engined design was deemed to expensive.

We always had an advanced Corvette design in the oven, so that whenever the bell rang for a new production model we’d have one ready to go. That was the situation in 1985, when we decided to take another crack at a mid-engined Corvette. In a secret studio way down at the far end of the Design Staff basement, we put together a small group of talented designers, sculptors, and technical people. Jerry Palmer headed this group, and the idea was to set up a free, uninhibited atmosphere where the staff could reach for the moon—nothing would be too wild.

But as sometimes happens when you set a group free, it’s hard to establish a new direction. For example, one day early in the process I walked into this studio, looked at the work, and all I could say was, “STOP!” The proportions just weren’t right, and the design was too conservative.

It was time to start over.

On the next try, the packaging people helped with the proportions and the designers got the message to reach—and reach they did! In the end, the clay sculptors brought this beautifully voluptuous shape into three dimensions, and the resulting creation had a profound effect on sports-car design that continues to this day. It’s been one of the most influential designs we ever created: the Corvette Indy.

The Indy and its derivative, the CERV-III, renewed the front-versus rear-engine discussion, but in the end the traditionalists and money guys won out again. The next Corvette would be front-engined, and with that decision made, it was time to get busy on an advanced front-engine/rear-drive car.

I wanted this to be done away from Detroit, so I asked our Advanced Concept Center (ACC) in California to design a front-engined Corvette targeting the ever-important West Coast market. The goal was to create a “California Corvette”—a design so influential that it would set the direction for the next generation. I was now GM’s vice president of design, and the production date for the next Corvette was fast approaching, as was my retirement.

After a lot of experimentation and a couple of false starts, ACC modeled a Corvette that was absolutely outstanding. We called it the Sting Ray III and built a running prototype. Now, I have to tell you that designing a car and getting it into production are two very different things. We shipped the Sting Ray III to Detroit and exposed it to everyone involved in making production decisions. But even though it created spontaneous enthusiasm and general agreement that this was the right direction for the next car, the program suffered a number of delays, key players got changed, and the corporate culture became a lot more conservative. Suddenly, passionate, emotional design just wasn’t part of the new vocabulary: Taking design risks became a no-no.

It’s no surprise, then, that the upcoming 1997 Corvette “ain’t no Sting Ray III.” That’s too bad. Without giving away any secrets, I’ll just say that if you like today’s design, you’ll like the ’97. It’s that simple.

I’ve been lucky to be one of the few people who’s lived with Corvette design from the beginning. I’ve experienced the emotional highs of exciting Corvette designs and the disappointment of those that for various reasons didn’t measure up. But through all of it, I can tell you it’s been a whole lot of fun. So long live the Corvette—whatever form it takes!