Depression-era America looked forward to a better future with cars like the 1935 Studebaker Commander

The Great Depression wasn't all the harsh cynicism of "Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?" It was also "Pennies from Heaven," "On the Sunny Side of the Street," and "Let's Have Another Cup of Coffee." Those three pieces of popular music acknowledged that yes, times were tough, but they would get better. That type of "we'll get through this" optimism seemed to be a national mantra in those days and it extended to brightly colored, cheerful products like Fiestaware dishes; extravagant, exuberant films like the musical comedy Gold Diggers of 1933; and, of course, automobile designs that were increasingly swoopy and stylish.

The Century of Progress International Exposition, better known as the Chicago World's Fair of 1933-'34, was a showcase for everything good the machine age had to offer, including the slick aesthetics of modern design as it transitioned from the Art Deco style of the 1920s to Streamline Moderne. Among those exhibits were presentations from all the major auto manufacturers, and perhaps the most famous to modern audiences are the Pierce-Arrow Silver Arrows—three futuristic looking ("the car of 1940") show cars that hinted strongly at postwar envelope styling in an era when skirted fenders had only just become a common sight.

In 1933, Pierce-Arrow was still in the midst of its brief association with Studebaker, which had begun in 1928. That arrangement was rapidly drawing to a close due to Studebaker's untenable financial condition. Things were so bad that company president Albert Erskine, who had insisted on paying dividends despite the company's increasingly perilous financial situation in 1930-'31, shot himself in despair on July 1, 1933.

From this brief period, both the Buffalo, New York, luxury carmaker and the South Bend, Indiana, producer of popular-priced cars experienced some exciting cross-pollination. Pierce's new straight-eight engine and five bodies of the Silver Arrow show cars were manufactured in South Bend. According to Studebaker historian Richard Quinn, the blocks and cylinder heads were cast in the Studebaker foundry but the engines were assembled at the Pierce-Arrow factory in Buffalo. Even after the firms went their separate ways in 1933, the styling of the Silver Arrows helped create some of the most striking products yet to wear the name Studebaker.

The rear window of the Silver Arrow show car, and the production version that followed, strongly resembled the reverse-slant windscreen of the latest Boeing airliner. That made it an exciting contrast to the rectangular and oval backlites of ordinary cars. It was this feature Studebaker chose to ape when spicing up its own product line for 1934. Car sales were dismal, thanks to the economy, and manufacturers leaned heavily on styling to stimulate showroom traffic.

To create the initial Land Cruiser, Studebaker body engineers removed the rear portion of a conventional President sedan and fabricated a Silver Arrow-style empennage. The new arrangement made for a quieter body with less wind resistance and greater enclosed trunk room, but more importantly, it was incredibly striking. The rear window on the Studebaker wrapped around the body in a way that foreshadowed the postwar Starlite coupes. "It looks like a World War II fighter plane coming at you," says owner Charles Mallory, of Greenwich, Connecticut, referring to the multi-paned canopies of interwar aircraft like the Seversky P-35, which was itself making a splash on the air-race circuit around the time this car was new.

Quality work and elegant detail abound inside a 1930s Studebaker. Woodgrain paint covers the instrument panel, window garnishes, and steering wheel. Even seemingly mundane items like the speedometer, speaker grille, heater box, and radio dial are a pleasure to behold. Note the sunburst pattern on the door panel.

Because of its semi-custom nature, it took some time to translate the Land Cruiser concept into a production car. Nevertheless, by the end of 1934, customers could purchase their own 1934 Studebaker Land Cruiser—that is, if they had $1,220 to $1,510 to spare for a new car at that time. The several hundred Land Cruisers that were offered, and were built on the Commander, President, and Dictator chassis, however, must have been deemed reasonable by the company's new management, which still included court-appointed receivers.

For 1935, Studebaker built three models: the six-cylinder Dictator, on a 114-inch wheelbase; the eight-cylinder Commander, on a 120-inch wheelbase; and the eight-cylinder President, on a 124-inch wheelbase. In these turbulent years, Studebaker shuffled its engines around with some frequency. The 107-hp, 250-cu.in. straight-eight shared its design with the 110-hp President engine, the primary difference being the President's 6.5:1 compression ratio—half a point higher than the Commander engine.

Both the Commander and President straight-eights had a noteworthy history of performance, particularly at the Indianapolis 500 during the stock-block era. The Studebaker straight-eight engine first arrived for 1928 under the hood of the President series in 313-cu.in., 100-hp form.

The engines used in the factory-backed race cars were the larger, 337-cu.in. engines available from 1929 to 1933. A few privateers used the smaller, 250-cu.in. engine, which was actually reported to be more durable in sustained high-speed running thanks to its shorter stroke. Boasting nearly the same power as the President, the shorter 1935 Commander was 180 pounds lighter and that wasn't its only potential advantage.

Prestigious as the President was, one could argue the Commander wore the Land Cruiser body better. The extra length was taken out of the front doors, resulting in a close-coupled appearance. The long-hood, short-deck proportions recall the toy tonneau body style of the 1900s and 1910s or foreshadow the pony cars of the 1960s and '70s. It's a timeless sporty look.

As you might imagine, low production in the 1930s translates to an infinitesimally small number of survivors: Around single digits for the eight-cylinder models. That said, aside from the rear-window treatment and special fender skirts, everything we appreciate about the Land Cruiser is also present on "lesser" Studebakers of the era—namely all those machine-age details inside and out. "It's an absolute mystery to me," Charles says, "Why there aren't more survivors. It's a great car and it was back then."

Charles was enraptured by the Land Cruiser's lines and details when he first spotted a light-blue 1934 at the RM Auction in Hershey, Pennsylvania, two decades ago. He's a fan of the 1933-'35 period in auto styling, and the Land Cruiser epitomizes it. "I was fascinated by the Art Deco perfection of it. Between La Salle and Airflow, 1934 was a pivotal year for styling."

The original Land Cruisers' rear-window design was inspired by the 1933 Pierce-Arrow Silver Arrow show cars. The design also encompassed an unprecedent amount of internal storage.

He bid steadily on the car, but was encountering determined competition across the room. Eventually the price reached a point where "I said, 'that's okay, I'll find another one.'" That light-blue '34 Land Cruiser now resides in The NB Center for American Automotive Heritage in Allentown, Pennsylvania.

Charles soon learned that finding another one was perhaps not so simple, but he did what the smart shopper does when hunting down a particular kind of car—he plugged into a group of enthusiasts. There's no better way to discover cars and parts for sale than to hang out with the people who keep track of that information for fun.

One of those people was Bob Belling, whose 1934 President Land Cruiser was featured in Hemmings Classic Car #169. In an encounter at the Greenwich Concours, Bob told Charles that the car you see here was waiting for him in Cape Girardeau, Missouri, south of St. Louis.

The Land Cruiser, a Commander model, had been "well restored and driven all over the place," including all the way to Alaska and back, by "a really talented hands-on guy," who was now ready to move on from the car. The Studebaker looks almost completely original, but that owner installed some subtle upgrades—namely a set of LT215/85R16 radials, air conditioning, and a Borg-Warner overdrive unit from a later Studebaker.

The tires, oversized from stock, ride well and fill out the front wheel wells in a particularly pleasing way. The benefits of the air conditioner are obvious, though Charles says that it gets very little use now that the car lives in New England. The overdrive is a type that was offered in Studebakers only a few years later and thus fits very well with the original-type driving experience.

The power of the eight-cylinder engine along with the overdrive makes the Studebaker an excellent driver even today. "The steering is positive and light despite the beefier tires. The engine pulls very strongly—it's a nicely powerful, quiet straight-eight. The gearbox works well: Shifting isn't 'snick-snick' but equivalent to other '30s gearboxes. I was amazed at how roadable it was in a contemporary environment," Charles recalls of his first turns behind the wheel. Sustained speeds of 65 to 70 mph are quite reasonable for the Commander. "When you're at highway speed it's as solid as a rock," Charles says, and he thinks the car "would be equally driveable without the updates."

He should know, he's used the car extensively. No trips to Alaska yet, but he's had it on the roads of Vermont and Connecticut with regularity without a hiccup. "I've done nothing but change the oil," he says. There have been no longer road trips yet, but Charles assures us they're coming.

"I certainly plan to. This is a prewar car I would take on a long road trip with confidence, and I will. The trip to Alaska shows you just how driveable it is."

The 250-cu.in. straight-eight was the same size as the engine in the President, but made 107 hp versus 110 thanks to slightly lower compression ratio. This example, proudly wearing the hallmarks of use like fuel-line insulation, sports unobtrusive add-on air conditioning.

The style of the car, its raison d'être, remains equally as appealing as when Charles first laid eyes on that light-blue '34 example. This '35 model, Charles says, is "a car that checks all the boxes: The seats are comfy, it's roomy, the details of the interior—the instrument panel, radio, and woodgraining— are all works of art. The trim on the outside, the vents on the hood, the way the horizontal vents merge with the vertical grille—it's all beautifully done." If your only experiences are with the somewhat flimsy Studebakers of the 1950s, a 1935 Commander will surprise you. The fender skirts, for example, are "not what you'd expect, but what you'd hope for."

All this adds up to a car that's the equal of any of its competition from its era. Bob should know, he's owned a number, including a couple of Airflows—one an Imperial and the other a De Soto coupe. The only car he professes to desire more than this Studebaker would be another one with connections to the Century of Progress International Exposition: the 1933 Cadillac V-16 Aerodynamic coupe. Only eight of those were produced, however. No regrets, anyway, as Charles is perfectly happy with the Land Cruiser.

"I'm thrilled to bits that I have it. It's a car I would choose over others."