Before delving into the Talbot London, it’s refreshing to look back at 1930s Great Britain to appreciate the world of motoring that the Talbot London AW75 was born into. Nostalgic photographs and artwork adorning biscuit and confectionary tins depict motoring in the period as a wonderfully pleasant experience. Drivers and passengers alike, aboard coupe-style cars, have happy, smiling faces as their hair flows through the prevailing breeze. It is a picture of utmost driving pleasure and tranquility. However, in truth, the reality of those days of motoring was drastically opposite. In a country where war had torn through the fabric of communities just over a decade previous and some areas were now facing depression, the car was king. Ironically, despite the economy, horse-drawn transport was becoming a thing of the past, replaced with four-wheeled vehicles driven by increasingly powerful petroleum-fuelled engines. It was an era when motoring was becoming available to the masses rather than just the elite. Roads, such as they were, were the most dangerous of places to be, with more than 7,000 deaths and over 250,000 injuries each year. The motorist of the day was considered by many as having an arrogant attitude similar to Kenneth Grahame’s Wind in the Willows character, Mr. Toad. Animals and pedestrians alike were still coming to terms with the power, pace and presence of automobiles, especially in urban and city areas.
In 1929, a pressure group called the Pedestrians’ Association was formed, which constantly lobbied government to introduce policies to rid the roads of “blood and tears” as they described it. Although this group was consistently denied airtime by the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC), it was successful in assisting the Road Traffic Act to become law in 1934. The new Act reduced speed limits to 30 mph in built-up areas—although the 1930 Road Traffic Act speed limit was just 20 mph, it was frequently flouted and became impossible to enforce. Where it was imposed, organizations like the Automobile Association (AA) and The Royal Automobile Club (RAC) frequently defended offenders, and cases were thrown out of court on mere technicalities. The 1934 Act required new drivers (17 years and over) to take a driving test before they could obtain a driving license, and gave local authorities the power to introduce pedestrian crossings. It was the Minister of Transport, Leslie Hore-Belisha, who pushed the bill through after accusing motorists of committing mass murder. Indeed, he himself nearly became a victim after a close encounter with a speeding sports car on the Camden High Street in London. If the minister’s name sounds familiar, it is because he marked uncontrolled “Zebra crossings” with orange globes on black and white poles. These globes were, and still today, referred to as “Belisha Beacons,” and were adopted by many other countries. The Pedestrian Association still exists today in the UK, now known as Living Streets, and its logo includes a Belisha Beacon.
Amid this background, cars were rolling off of the new production lines to service the thirst for driving. Among these was the 1933 Talbot London AW75. Motoring and travel was becoming a new pastime, as well as a mode of commuting to and from places of employment. It has to be remembered too, that the first ever journey made by a petroleum motor-carriage was just 40 years before in 1895. That journey was one of some 56-miles from Micheldever, in Hampshire, to the village of Datchet, near Windsor, Berkshire. It took some five hours and 32 minutes to complete, excluding any stoppages, at an average speed of around just 10 mph, while the Talbot was capable of 75 mph.
Founding Talbot and first production
The history of the Talbot name in the motor industry was extensively explored in a previous issue of Vintage Racecar (January 2007) where Ed McDonough profiled the 1934 Talbot 105. So, rather than repeat it here, we’ll examine the founders and the London factory where the first cars were built. In 1903, it was the 20th Earl of Shrewsbury, Charles Chetwynd-Talbot and French entrepreneur, Gustave Adolphe Clément-Bayard who formed the Clément-Talbot Company, first to import, then build Clement-Talbot cars in England. While Chetwynd-Talbot inherited both a family title and considerable wealth, Clément-Bayard was orphaned at nine years old, his mother died when he was aged seven, and two years later his father passed. He struggled, but became a very talented blacksmith, and after initial training developed his skills further by working with many master craftsmen of the day in various regions of France (a Compagnons du Tour de France). His work led him into business, where he was a fine entrepreneur. At first, he made bicycles, then motorcycles, cars and, later, aircraft. He was also involved in racing, too. Indeed, he was a passenger in Albert Lemaitre’s winning Peugeot in the world’s first competitive motoring event, in 1894, which ran from Paris to Rouen. Clément Bayard cars were made in the town of Mezieres, France (Clément added Bayard to his name in honor of the fearless 16th Century French soldier Chavalier de Bayard, who saved Mezieres in the Holy War). The two men met through Chetwynd-Talbot’s need of pneumatic tires for his hansom cab business, which not only ran vehicles throughout the UK, but from London to Paris, too. Clément-Bayard had initially worked on his own Clément Tires for bicycles prior to taking up the license to produce Dunlop tires—invented and developed by John Boyd Dunlop in Scotland toward the end of the 19th Century—in France.
A factory was required to undertake the manufacture of Clément- Talbot cars in London. Car production in Great Britain was slower than continental Europe. Chetwyn-Talbot was the finance, and five acres of ground was purchased in North Kensington, near to the Great Western Railway. Architect William T. Walker went on to design the first phase of the factory building with two more phases later added—a west wing in 1913 and a front extension in 1917. Originally, Clément-Talbot cars were produced, but as the Clément brand declined, the first all-British Talbot “London” cars came off the production line in 1906, although Clement- Talbot cars continued to be assembled at the London factory as late as 1912. During the latter part of the First World War, the factory was taken over by the Ministry of Munitions to produce aero engines, employing nearly 2,000 staff. After WWI, Talbot car production continued through to the days of the Sunbeam-Darracq-Talbot organization, and later by the Rootes Group from the mid-1930s. Today, the frontage part of the building is still intact (the manufacturing sheds were demolished in 1993) and preserved under a government Grade 2 Listing, it is known as Ladbroke Hall.
Georges Roesch
Swiss born Roesch was a most modest man who preferred his work to do the talking rather than his mouth, a genetic trait from his father’s side. He was possibly one of the most talented and underrated engineers of his era. Born in Geneva, in 1891, Roesch trained under Marius Barbaroux and Louis Renault before working at Daimler, prior to joining Sunbeam-Talbot- Darracq (STD), the now amalgamated company Clément-Talbot had become, in 1920. From the early part of the 20th Century he had a vision of designing the ultimate car with a quiet engine and running gear, comfortable for four people, fast but not dangerous, which would cater to the needs of all motorists of the day—from housewife to racer. The car would also have to prove easy to manufacture in quantity, and be profitable, too. When first taken on by STD he worked under Louis Coatalen, a French engineer, famous for designing some of Sunbeam’s racing and land speed record cars. Roesch was responsible for working on the engine. He’d already thought engine designers of the day were attacking engine development from the wrong angle. They designed racing engines that could be tamed to commercial engines. This produced inefficiently designed overhead camshaft power that proved to be complicated, heavy, noisy and expensive. What was required was a cheap and easily maintained engine suitable for mass production that, at some stage, could be refined for racing. Like today, success on the racetrack was perceived to be a precursor to success in the showroom and on the road. The Roesch-designed engine needed to be smooth and balanced, hence six cylinders. Water-cooling was essential around particular hot spots like cylinders and exhaust valve seats. Indeed, Roesch threw out conventional engine design and theories and came up with his own ideal—although he incorporated Coatalen’s cylinder head design. The first of these 1060-cc engines was up and running by 1922. It produced 56 hp at 6,000 rpm and was around half the size of other contemporary power units. This engine was an experimental engine based on the 10/23, but it never entered production. Based on the success of this engine, Coatalen saw the genius of Roesch and asked him to design a brand-new range of cars to be produced at Talbot’s Barlby Road factory in London, which had been in decline for a number of years. Roesch was overjoyed with this responsibility. His dream car may, at last, become a reality. Although the cars would be built in England, his homeland of Switzerland would provide the ultimate proving ground. If the Talbots could conquer the terrain and rigors of crossing the Swiss Alps, they would be suitable for almost every driving situation.
The new London-built Talbot cars
Returning to England from Paris, Roesch surveyed the Barlby Road factory and found, to his dismay, outdated machine tools running on electricity delivered by diesel engine generators. Production machinery and tooling was well worn and impossible to produce the accurate components necessary for his high revving engine—precision being the watchword for such a design. Jigs were made to ensure that the accuracy of components was maintained, and a special metallurgical laboratory built to guarantee the quality of materials used. Morale among workers was low; perhaps this new life could inject a new spirit? He felt compassion for those who would bring his designs to being. The first of the “new” Talbot cars was the 14/45, a design that had been whirling around Roesch’s brain for many years. It simply exploded onto his drawing board. With an order for 1,000 cars purely based on the blueprint, production was at full steam ahead and the first vehicle readied for the 1926 Olympia Show, where it was dubbed a hit by many including renowned English automotive engineer Laurence Pomeroy. It was just as well, as success of this car was paramount to the survival of the company.
The chassis design would be little changed throughout the whole period of “Roesch” Talbots. While robust and a little heavy, it was uncomplicated, featuring an “X” crossmember amidship to aid structural stability. The rear suspension was by wide, quarter-elliptical springs, and the front by very thin, but wide, semi-elliptical leafs, the combination giving good road holding and aiding precise steering. It had a speed capability of around 65 mph, powered by a high-revving, 6-cylinder, overhead camshaft engine bolted directly to the frame. Following the show, order books were full and production of this innovative car was increased from 50 to 100 per week. The once downtrodden spirit of the work force was now revived and very much alive.
The Talbot London AW75
George Roesch took a “bus man’s holiday” away from Barlby Road, road testing and hard driving the 14/45 through the Alps. He found both bodywork and mechanical weaknesses, which included the front fenders shaking loose, an overheating engine in the thinner atmosphere and a very stiff brake pedal to mention a few. Back at the factory, modifications were made to the 14/45 both mechanically and in upgraded bodywork. Some customers were calling for a more powerful engine and a design for this was worked on, making it interchangeable with the existing 14/45. While this new car he was working on was originally called the 20/70, it later became known as the 75. The model number 75 was Roesch’s simplification of model numbers. Some manufacturers used numbers relating to brake horsepower, some related to the RAC ratings. Roesch decided that 75 and subsequent numbers would relate to the top speed which could be achieved, i.e. 75 = 75 mph.
This new 2267-cc engine was again innovative in design: the cylinders were rearranged and were now equidistant from each other, governed by the adoption of seven main bearings as opposed to the 14/45 having just four, and bored to 69.5-mm and the stroke to 100-mm. It required precise components and production of some out-sourced to factories as far afield as Redditch, Worcestershire, which produced knitting needles—Roesch thought if they could produce knitting needles they could produce very small and strong pushrods. Among the new innovations was that the water pump drove the fan belt rather than conventional design—Roesch reasoned that if the fan belt broke, the engine would still need to be cooled for journeys to continue.
Increased engine cooling came from the use of a taller radiator (also used on the 70 and 90 models). Improved performance required stronger brakes, the drums were increased from 14-inches to 16—from 1932 models, the front brakes were operated by a completely enclosed cable to keep out dust and water. Lubrication of most parts was via the engine, leaving owners only to worry about filling the engine sump and back axle.
While Roesch’s original vision was a car for all people, the 75 was not to be regarded as a racing car. However, when the challenge of it being entered in the Brooklands Double-Twelve by Fox & Nicholl arose, he put the backing of the Barlby Road factory behind the project—the 75s were worked on to become 90s and although sadly involved in a fatal crash at Brooklands, they finished a very creditable 3rd and 4th behind the much bigger 6.5-liter Bentleys at Le Mans.
Roesch, completely immersed in his work, continued to perfect the AW75 roadcar for a number of years. His ultimate idea was to produce cars totally “in house,” despite the then-ancient tooling and production machinery at his disposal. An external problem, over which Roesch had no control, arose with the onset of the Great Depression that not only affected Great Britain, but also global economies that were falling at an alarming rate.
Chassis number 33947
The car we profile here is a 4-door, short chassis model of the AW75, first registered on April 15, 1933. Its chassis plate bears the name “Talbot” and “manufactured by Clément Talbot Ltd., North Kensington London, W.10. Chassis number 3394.7.” Coachwork is by Darracq, and designed by Noel Rees. While the repainted green body shows signs of age, the chrome of the headlamps, grill and bumpers glistens in the winter sunshine. In period, the car was really ahead of its time in terms of build, performance and comfort. Many publications of the day described it as being “true value for money,” which was £495. Even in the 21st Century the car is very imposing and grand; it easily turns heads as it probably did in its day. Under the hood the space looks remarkably empty, encasing a no-nonsense simplistic looking green block, the engine, concealing the ultimate power it delivers. On the nearside are the six spark plugs, one emanating from each cylinder, and six leads that congregate in the distributor. The other obvious instrument is the huge Klaxon horn affixed to the bulkhead, necessary to warn pedestrians and animals of the car’s presence. The driver’s side is a little more complex with the exhaust system, the large oil filler cap engraved with the words “clean filter every 1,000 miles and drain oil every 2,000 miles,” and a single British-made Zenith type 36 VEC carburetor. At the front of the engine bay is the radiator and four-blade cooling fan driven via a leather chain-linked belt attached to the fan pulley wheel and driven by a similar pulley on the end of the water pump.
Entering the driver’s door, which is arranged in the typical 1930s “suicide” fashion (both driver and rear passenger doors hinged on a central column), the smell of leather exudes from the interior seating. The rear seats are of bench design with a central armrest for additional comfort. The cabin is spacious, practical, comfortable and beautifully finished. While underhood was relatively sparse, the cockpit is a little more complex. Sitting in the driver’s seat—separate from the passenger seat unlike previous models—the four-spoke steering wheel hub accommodates throttle controls, left and right indicator and light switches. To the right, attached to the steering column, is the pre-selector gear lever, which could be set to reverse, neutral or four forward gears. On this model, it was an upgrade to the previous manual system (although the manual system could still be fitted if the customer required). The pre-selector unit, made under a Wilson patent with Roesch modifications, was fitted for two reasons; first, to give smooth transition and save wear and tear on the gear system from inexperienced drivers who tended to crash the box, literally; second, to give the more experienced driver the opportunity of getting the most from their car in terms of performance —racing cars were mostly fitted with pre-selector units. From the steering wheel your eyes are drawn to the gauges and switches centrally mounted on the mahogany-colored wooden dash. The top left is the odometer showing 87,948 miles, the “milometer” shows 0 mph to 85 mph, yellow indicator lines show maximum speed for the various gears, i.e., 20 mph for first, up to 40 mph for second, 60 mph for third and 75 mph being the maximum speed of the engine. In the middle is an elliptical fuel gauge, and the in far right top is a clock. On the bottom line is an oil warning light—something which Roesch thought would benefit the modern motorist, then an amperes meter, followed by a multiple switch that deals with the lamp and ignition settings, to the right and slightly above is the ignition lock, directly underneath is the windscreen wiper switch, to the right the starter button and the far right the ignition warning light.
This chassis is without initial history, but documents show it to have had five owners since the war. It has had work done on many major parts, i.e. the radiator has been re-cored, the engine rebuilt and both back axle and gearbox restored. As mentioned, the bodywork has been repainted but is original, with no major restoration. The interior has had work done, albeit in the wrong material from the original.
Driving experience.
One is used to pressing a starter button, or turning a key to start an engine that invariably explodes into life with a cacophony of deafening sound. With this Talbot the engine simply starts quietly and calmly awaits the driver’s next instruction. From a cold start, the engine needs plenty of choke, but once warmed has no problem restarting. To get away, one moves the pre-selector from N (neutral) to 1 (first gear), but nothing happens until the clutch pedal is depressed and released, then the car begins to move. While in motion, pre-select 2 for the next gear change to second using the clutch more like a switch to engage the gear when required. Simply continue changing either up, or down selecting and engaging relevant gearing as driving conditions require. Rather than look at the milometer to check gearing, an ear for the correct engine note pre-empts the change. Fourth gear can easily be selected between 25 and 30 mph. In period, the addition of the pre-selector “box” must have been a tremendous selling point offering a completely new experience and an uncomplicated method of driving. Acceleration, for this vintage car, is quite good, with the engine retaining a good deal of original torque. Although not timed on our particular test, official figures given in period show 0-50 mph in a shade over 17 seconds. The driving position is very natural and commensurate to most modern MPVs I’ve driven—very comfortable. The steering is very light and precise, giving the driver that reassuring feeling of “being in control.” Roesch’s Alpine testing is apparent with a 37-foot turning circle—ideal for conquering mountain hairpin bends. On both smooth and rougher terrain the ride is very comfortable, with the leaf springs ironing out any bumps or potholes encountered. There is no “tram-lining” when driving over painted road markings as with some cars of this or even a more modern era. At any speed the drive is well balanced and the car remains constant without pulling to the left or right, even in tight fast cornering the car holds the road without rolling. It cruises along at around 60-65 mph with no trouble. The brakes are very positive, even by today’s standards, and are well capable of bringing this 3,000-pound metal mass to a stop very proficiently.
Georges Roesch was a true perfectionist, exceptional designer and far ahead of his time. He brought so many things to the motoring world—even some we still use, and could use, today. He quietly and calmly got on with the job in hand—no fuss. Many, even in period, weren’t fully aware of his abilities. It is said he very rarely, if ever, shouted his achievements from the rooftops and he shunned publicity naturally attributed to such genius. He did, however, make official representation to the authorities when others copied his designs, trying to pass them off as their own innovations. He remained with Talbot until the Rootes Group took over and began using Humber components and engines instead of Roesch-designed components. In 1938, Georges Roesch left the company he had worked and toiled at for so many years in complete disgust. By this time, the Second World War was about to intervene, distracting the focus of many things—including honoring a man of such aptitude and technical ability. Roesch died in 1969. In 2015, I feel privileged to have gotten to know one of his visionary cars.
Specifications
Wheelbase: 9-feet, 6-inches
Overall Length: 14-feet
Width: 5-feet, 9-inches
Ground clearance: 9.5-inches
Turning circle: 37-feet
Weight: 3,000-pounds
Engine: 6 cylinders; bore 69.5-mm, stroke 100-mm = 2,276-cc
Output 76bhp @ 4,600 rpm
Valve gear: Roesch pushrods and rockers. 7-bearing counterbalanced crankshaft
Cooling: Pump circulation, radiator mounted on crankcase; thermostatic shutters
Transmission: 4-speed and reverse manual gearbox with “silent” third gear. On early models/later models Wilson, 4-speed and reverse epicyclic gearbox with ‘Preselector’ change
Gear ratios: 5.22:1, 7.15:1, 10.57:1, 19.26:1 Reverse 25.4:1
Tires: 29 x 5.5 on detachable Rudge-Whitworth wire wheels
Fuel tank: 16-gallon capacity
