1931 AJS 9hp Richmond Saloon - Black Country Survivor

1931 AJS 9hp Richmond Saloon

Mention AJS and most will think of motorcycles, but there was more to AJS than just motorcycles, they produced radios, buses and cars too. The company had quite a checkered history during its short reign at the beginning of the last century. AJS was spawned from a region in the West Midlands of England referred to as “The Black Country.” This is not a derogatory term, but initially aptly described a geographical area in south Staffordshire where one of the thickest coal seams in Great Britain was so close to the surface it turned the soil black. With such a rich resource, it became the epicenter of the Industrial Revolution and, like a cancer, its vague boundaries spread to include other districts and major towns of the area. The Rev. William Gresley, a prebendary of Litchfield Cathedral, in his novel Colton Green: The Tales of the Black Country, first coined the term. Unusually, it was the American diplomat, Ulihu Burritt, who brought the term to a more widespread use for the area in his book Walks in The Black Country and its Green Borderland. Burritt was requested by none other than President Abraham Lincoln, who charged all his consulates to write about the facts bearing upon the productive capacities, industrial character and natural resources of communities embraced in their Consulate Districts. Burritt’s description of the area forms the first few sentences of the first chapter of his book, “The Black Country, black by day and red by night, cannot be matched, for vast and varied production, of any other space of equal radius on the surface of the globe. It is a section of Titanic industry, kept in murky perspiration by a sturdy set of Tubal Cains and Vulcans, week in and week out, and often seven days to the week. Indeed the Sunday evening halo it wears when the Church bells are ringing to service on winter nights, glow ‘redder than the moon,’ or like the moon dissolved at the full on the clouds above the roaring furnaces.”

In Victorian times, the Black Country became one of the most heavily industrialized parts of Great Britain. However, it is said that Queen Victoria was so offended by the sight of this industrial vista she asked for her carriage curtains to be drawn as she travelled through the district. The anchors and chains for the ill-fated RMS Titanic were made in this area and drawn to the ship by 20 shire horses. Today, the government describes the Black Country as most of the four metropolitan boroughs of Dudley, Sandwell, Walsall and Wolverhampton and the term is used to market the area and attract funding and investment. The mining and heavy industry, together with the air pollution, are now gone, but with them the mass employment has gone too, leaving the area as one of the most deprived in the UK.

Joseph Stevens Sr. and AJS.

I’ve spent time describing this part of England to give you an idea of the enormity—the cauldron of trade, commerce and manufacture—of the Black Country. In 1874, Joseph Stevens started his own blacksmith and engineering business making all manner of items including horseshoes, bridleware for horses, locks, garden tools and bicycles. Joseph’s son Harry, the eldest of his nine children by his first wife Mary Ann, joined the family business. From the start, Harry displayed much of his father’s engineering skills and was a great asset in continuing the family business. Joseph Jr., the third-eldest child, was interested in engines and acquired a small American Mitchell single-cylinder, gas-driven, four-stroke engine. It was quite fragile and unreliable. The two boys got together and designed their own version of the Mitchell engine, but theirs was far more reliable and less fragile. The single-cylinder, four-stroke engine produced some 1¾ horsepower. The original engine was a little Heath Robinson in construction, using an old mustard tin to construct the carburetor. Despite this, Joseph Sr. could see an exciting future and many marketing possibilities for the engine. So, in 1899, the Stevens Motor Manufacturing Company was established. Harry became an engineering genius and designed many types of engines to power bicycles and motorcycles, as well as engineering tools. Harry and his three brothers, George, John (often referred to as Jack) and Joe, owned the company. However, the fledgling company couldn’t afford to pay all four. So, while Harry worked for the new company the other three took employment elsewhere, until there became a point of sustainability rather than a financial drain. The new business also made other components such as carburetors and gearboxes, predominantly for the Wearwell Cycle Company with which they had a good trading relationship. Unfortunately, in 1907, receivers were appointed as the Stevens’ business fell into decline.

It was at this point that an association with the Clyno Engineering Company of Thrapston, Northamptonshire, began. This is a pivotal moment for our profiled car, as you will soon discover. At this time, 1908, Clyno were making motorcycles and Stevens took on the manufacture of frames and engines for them. The following year Clyno moved into a factory building formerlly owned by the Stevens brothers.

Again, in 1909, Harry, George, John and Joe Jr. founded a new company to produce their own motorcycles—A. J. Stevens and Company. The initials A. J. were from John (the only one to have two first names) and Albert. They were turned around and AJS was born. The first two AJS motorcycles were soon in production. The model “A” was the cheapest, a 2½ hp single-cylinder engine, belt-driven machine and a more expensive model B driven by the same engine, but with a two-speed gearbox. Harry put up most of the cash for the production of these first models, money he’d earned from designing Sunbeam’s first motorcycle. From these humble beginnings the company went on to produce some of the finest motorcycles of the era. Sport was to play a part too, and the AJS “works” entered the Isle of Man Junior TT races in 1913. Billy Heaton and Cyril Williams were the riders, Heaton finished 9th and Williams retired due to mechanical problems. The following year a last-minute decision sent five racing machines to be entered once again for the Isle of Man TT races. This time they fared much better. Eric Williams, Cyril Williams, W. Jones, Bert Haddock and Billy Heaton finished 1st, 2nd, 4th, 6th and 29th, respectively. There was a tremendous homecoming for the team in Wolverhampton. This racing success obviously drove sales, but new investment was required to increase production. A new company, A. J. Stevens and Company (1914) Limited, with a share capital of £5,000 was formed with the four brothers and two new directors, stockbroker E. E. Lamb and engineer E. L. Morcom.

The above describes the humble beginnings of a company that, at its height in 1925, had factory and manufacturing space exceeding 230,000 square feet, and gave employment to several thousand people in and around the boundaries of the Black Country. Harry Stevens was not only a great engineer, but a tremendous entrepreneur, too. His imagination and business acumen seemed to know no bounds as AJS produced motorcycles of many types, styles and power, as well as sidecars, omnibuses and radios. Motorcycle racing success at home and abroad, particularly at the Isle of Man TT races and Grand Prix racing at 350-cc and 500-cc, drove that side of the business to prominence. AJS also had various plants where they manufactured or processed materials for other companies.

However, in the latter part of the 1920s, economic troubles grew not only in the UK, but also on a global scale—similar to those we all just encountered in the mid-to-late 2000s. Sales across the board slumped and the business began to struggle. Motorcycle sales dipped due to the onset and popularity of the motor car, now being something the working man could afford rather than just the landed gentry (the privileged British social class of land owners who lived entirely on family wealth and rental incomes, a class that since the First World War was in decline as the social structure of the UK began a significant change).

Clyno Light Car Company

A lucrative contract to build bodies for the new Clyno “Nine” light car offered a light at the end of what appeared to be a very gloomy tunnel. The Clyno Engineering Company, which I touched on previously, had had its time of financial worries as the original company fell into liquidation after its financial backers withdrew following the Russians failing to pay for military motorcycles they’d ordered. Phoenix-like, Clyno Engineering Company (1922) Limited, under the guidance of Frank Smith and his son, William, was born to build motor cars—a project Frank had put “on ice” some years previous. He employed the services of designer Charles Marie van Eugen, a Dutchman, who’d worked for Simplex, Daimler, Swift and later Lea-Francis, producing some of its best-known models, including the “C” and “D” types. Van Eugen produced drawings for a prototype car that was subsequently redesigned. The first production car, the Clyno Light Car, was designed by George Stanley and Arthur G. Booth, and unveiled at the 1922 Motor Exhibition at Olympia and White City—the 16th annual show. A 1368-cc Coventry Climax engine, through a Clyno 3 gearbox, powered the car. While its initial price was £250, car prices were on a significant decline due to excessive production by many companies, including Austin and Morris, the major players. Twelve pounds was knocked off of the price the following year to £238 in an attempt to fend off the opposition. Motor sport, always the shop window for cars and motorcycles, was to give Clyno a boost as they took two gold medals in the 1923 London to Edinburgh Trial, and a silver medal in the Scottish Six Day Trial. It appeared that Clyno had gotten the measure of its competitors and a number of new models, together with motor racing success—particularly at Brooklands—meant the company flourished over the next five years. In 1926, Clyno was the third largest producer of cars in the UK, with the top two being Austin and Morris. Production demand was outweighing space available to manufacture, so a bank loan provided a new four-acre factory at nearby Bushbury. A new Clyno car, the model “Nine” (due to its 9 hp engine) light car was in production from the summer of 1927, and AJS was very pleased to be involved in the manufacturing process of the car.

The bodywork of the model “Nine” was a departure from the norm, loosely based on the Weymann fabric bodies noted for fuselage construction in the aircraft industry, but later used on motorcars such as the Fiat 509. A fabric body had many advantages over conventional coach-built cars including a more luxurious and silent driving experience, easily repaired following accidents and easy to wash and clean. Charles Weymann made a considerable amount of money from his patent, receiving payment from more than 70,000 bodies and at least 123 licensees. Neither Clyno nor AJS appears on the list of licensees, therefore there must have been some subtle deviation from Weymann’s patented process to construct the Clyno system, but it had similar attributes. It was described in promotion material as “the last word in low-priced luxury.” Basically, the bodies consisted of fabric-covered panels supported by an ash wooden framework. The fabric-bodied cars had another advantage in that they kept construction and material costs down. This new car, designed by Arthur G. Booth, sold for around £160—the first production models were available from early 1928. Getting into a price-cutting war with major players Austin and Morris, Clyno built a cheap 4-door sedan retailing at just £112—the “Century”—but it was simply unsustainable. This unfortunately bad business decision meant the once vibrant car producer wold be seeking receivership just 12 months after those first cars left the production line—their cost-cutting, cutting too far.

AJS Car production

Bad news for Clyno was good news for AJS, as Clyno’s designer, Arthur G. Booth, joined them and was responsible for the new AJS “Nine” 9 hp sedan. The new car was similar in looks to a previous Clyno model powered by a Coventry Climax, four-cylinder, 9 hp petrol engine with Solex carburetion. There were three initial cars, two were coachbuilt and the third was fabric-bodied. The first was a two-seater coachbuilt model finished in blue cellulose that cost £204. It was available with, or without, a “Dickey” seat—this optional extra costing £6 more. The second was a 4-seater sedan with a luxurious internal finish and claiming to have all the characteristics of a high class “big car” in design, appearance, performance, road holding, comfort, roominess, steering and equipment, yet priced at £240—with the optional extras of a sliding roof for just over £7 and chromium-plated bumpers for just over £5. The third model in the series had all the refinements as the sedan, but was fabric-bodied and therefore a little cheaper than the coachbuilt car at £230. Again, a sliding roof and chrome bumpers were optional extras. While the cars were built by AJS, other local companies manufactured certain parts. John Thompson Motor Pressings of Bilston was responsible for the main chassis frame, and Coventry Climax built the 1018-cc engine. Initial sales were good—given they were quite highly priced—and were well received at the 1930 Motor Show at Olympia. However, the British public felt the price a little too high. Responding to falling sales figures with an effort to make the cars competitively priced, AJS reduced the range by some £11 and introduced another model—the “Richmond.”

The Richmond

The Richmond was generally identical to the other sedans, but had less expensive trim and finish. Major departures from the deluxe-finished cars included leather cloth used to upholster instead of hide, and side windows that opened horizontally instead of vertically. AJS, used to engine building themselves, considered replacing the power unit with their own. Word of this reached Coventry Climax. Naturally they were disgruntled, making their annoyance tangible by sending inferior quality engines to AJS. These engines had to be completely refurbished and rebuilt before they could be used on the production line by AJS. This breakdown in relationship meant AJS then designed, developed and built its own engine—a virtual facsimile of the Coventry Climax. Like Clyno before, AJS could not produce a competitively priced motorcar. Its demise and ultimate insolvency sent the company into liquidation in October 1931. Willys Overland Crossley of Stockport, noted for production of the Whippet motorcar, purchased the rights to produce the Nine in 1932. This third re-incarnation saw a “New AJS Nine” launched, but again the company ran into difficulty and Willys Overland Crossley was purchased by the Fairey Aviation Company in 1935. The former premises of Willys Overland Crossley were then used to produce military equipment, marking the end of the Nine car production for good.

AJS Richmond – chassis A825

Our profile car, the AJS Richmond (chassis A825), was first registered on June 19, 1931, just four months prior to the company going into liquidation. It was purchased by George Youell of Purley, near Croydon, Surrey, and remained with him until 1967. At that time, the odometer is recorded to have been 44,000—averaging out at some 1,200 miles per year. It had four further owners up to 2000 when the current owner’s father, Bill Barton, purchased it from car dealer Malcolm C. Elder & Son of Oxfordshire, and immediately had the engine rebuilt. At that time, and true still today, remarkably the car is in its original condition, including carpets, trim and fabric body. In fact, it is unique, as it is believed to be the only Richmond in such prime condition in the world.

At first look, the car is of its day, a four-door sedan and Austin 7-like in appearance, but with the very noticeable fabric body panels giving the cabin section of the body a matt finish. The AJS logo is a smart and tidy finish to the top of the radiator grille surround, and a larger white logo of similar style features on the rear offside mudguard. This logo design is said to have been the work of car designer Arthur G. Booth’s daughter—something she designed at the breakfast table one morning. Arthur liked it so much it became part of the car. The “PL” prefix to the registration number confirms Surrey as the county and May through to August 1931 as the time of first registration.

Opening the centrally hinged hood from the driver’s side reveals the tiny hp engine situated at the lower end of the void. Unlike today’s cars, or even many from the 1930s, is the absence of a cooling fan—this car needs motion to keep cool, especially in the summer months. Opening the left half of the hood exposes the chassis plate, showing the engine and car number, A825, the bore, stroke, capacity and firing order of the cylinders, together with the RAC rating of 8.92 hp.

At this time, many European countries, including the UK, had a horsepower tax to raise extra revenue for government coffers. In 1910, the Royal Automobile Club of Great Britain was charged to produce a mathematical formula believed fair to all in relation to the calculation of horsepower. The formula they used for taxation purposes was thus: D2 x n ÷ 2.5, with “D” being the diameter of the cylinder (in inches), and “n” the number of cylinders. So, for this car, the sum is 2.362 x 2.362 x 4 = 22.316176 ÷ 2.5 = 8.9264704, rounded down, gives the 8.92hp. The division by 2.5 was a figure concocted by the RAC to take into account early low-efficiency engines. It is said that this system of taxation and the RAC’s formula/calculation held back engine and gearbox development in the UK for a good 25-30 years. Small-bore, long-stroke engines got around the taxation system, but were poor on power. Gearbox technology never amounted to much above three speeds. The horsepower figures given for the Richmond Coventry Climax engine in the car’s handbook are given as 13 bhp at 1,500rpm, 17 bhp at 2,000 rpm and 24 bhp at 3,000rpm.

Adjacent to the chassis plate is the “Grav-vac” petrol feed system (very similar to the “Autovac” system) used to reduce the smell of petrol fumes from the passenger compartment. It works by drawing fuel from the 8-gallon fuel tank, situated at the rear of the car behind the back axle, by vacuum created by the engine sucking fuel to the carburetor. It was a very efficient system and needed little maintenance.

Internally, for a car of the period and size, it is very roomy and well styled. This particular car has had the optional extra sliding roof fitted. From the driver’s seat, the centrally mounted oval wooden dash panel holds the cluster of instrumentation. Most prominent are the clock, placed far left, and the speedometer far right—ideally situated for the driver’s line of vision. Two smaller dials, for oil temperature and amperes, are centrally located above the Lucas ignition switch. Warning lights and lighting switches complete the instrument ensemble. The three-spoke steering wheel is more than ample given the finger light operation required. On the column is the advance/retard lever, again ideally situated for the driver. Foot pedals are in clutch, accelerator and brake formation—with the starter switch just above the clutch pedal so to avoid any unintended use.

Driving the Richmond

Our drive takes us around the country roads of the small Buckinghamshire village of Little Horwood—six miles from the metropolis that is Central Milton Keynes. Preparing to drive the AJS Richmond requires a certain mantra once told to me by none other than John Surtees. He said, “When driving the old Mercedes W125 I had to keep reminding myself that the accelerator was in the center and brake on the right.” It is the same with this car. To start the car we insert the key into the ignition, I say key, but it’s just a sliver of metal really. Turning the ignition on we depress the starter button with the left foot—the switch as mentioned before is just above the clutch pedal. The engine bursts into life. We have a three speed “crash” gearbox—no synchromesh on any gear! The gears are in an “H” gate; top left is reverse, bottom left first, top right is second and bottom right is third gear. A blip on the accelerator, with left foot depressed on the clutch allows us to engage first gear. Double-declutching is the name of the game in this driving experience, the idea is to keep the rotation of both engine and gearbox the same to engage the gears properly.

As we move off, the engine noise pitch near immediately tell us we should now change up to second. This is quite a tricky selection because we’re aiming for the gear diagonally opposite to the one we’re in. It is very noticeable that while in second gear there is much vibration and noise—thinking AJS made the fabric-bodied car initially to reduce noise can only serve as a reminder of the cacophony of sound associated with car driving back in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Soon we’re in top gear, third, a relatively easy transition compared to the previous change. The engine is quite torquey, and I can confirm that it is possible to drive at a speed as low as 5 mph in third—just as the sales brochure said it could—and a top speed of around 50 mph, rpm is around 1,320 at 20 mph in third (top) gear.

The steering is very light, but very direct and positive. The brakes, while quite squeaky, are acceptably effective, but obviously not of today’s standard. The elliptical suspension gives a satisfactory ride—again given the age, period and technology of the car. When driving on an incline or uphill, careful consideration has to be given to gear selection, because changing from third down to second can leave you too slow for second once the gear is engaged as the engine speed dies very quickly. On these occasions it is much better to use the retard lever to give that extra boost to reach the summit successfully.

The drive is over far too quick on this bright and sunny autum day, but we’ve stepped back into an automotive time when, although cars were king they were still few and far between in comparison. In the 1930s motoring was as much a pastime as a mode of commuting, so our drive was such a special treat.

Epilogue

Unfortunately, for Clyno, AJS and the later company Willys Overland Crossley, the model Nine proved to be the demise of all three. Perhaps that’s too brutal a responsibility to heap on the shoulders of this little car? Worldwide market forces, particularly The Great Depression had significant effect not only on this car, but the car industry, manufacturing and employment as a whole. Austin and Morris were the Goliaths of car production, trying to take them on was “a bridge too far” for all concerned with the Nine project. A real unsung hero has come from my research and this story, a man who never had the proper recognition and accolades he truly deserved. He made, or was involved in the making of everything from radiators to radios. Harry Stevens was a great engineer and entrepreneur who gave employment to many in the “Black Country”.