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genius. Everything in the Dolomite was built in the Coventry facility by Healey and his crew. They undoubtedly racked up some hefty overtime hours because the car was completed in just six months.

      The car performed brilliantly in almost every test, with the straight-8 capable of sustaining 100 mph (and faster) and could run the quarter-mile in 17.8 seconds. In an interview with Motor Sport magazine, Healey said he was disappointed that the car fell short of the 120 mph he had hoped for on a lap at Brooklands.

      Nevertheless, Healey was highly encouraged by the Dolomite’s performance and entered the 1935 Monte Carlo rally. Healey was well acquainted with the event and had won the 1931 rally in an Invicta. His new Triumph looked poised for a top finish.

      Car No. 1 was rebuilt on an even tighter budget to run again in the 1936 Monte Carlo rally. Healey finished eighth, running the entire event without the aid of the supercharger. All indications are that the Dolomite was every bit a match for the Alfa-Romeo 2300. However, fate intervened. It was to be the last glory savored by Triumph; the fortunes of the company were about to change permanently.

      The motorcycle division was sold off that year to raise cash, and the Dolomite program was canceled with only three cars built. The Dolomite name was migrated to a new line of production sedans set to bow in the next year.

      It is unfortunate that the Dolomite did not survive the accountant’s guillotine because a line of exclusive and exotic cars with the kind of performance pedigree Healey engineered could have set Triumph on a very different course.

       TRIUMPH FALLS ON HARD TIMES

      Times were tight and more changes came at the top. Holbrook was replaced by one of his old rallying partners, Maurice Newnham. However, Newnham had developed a bent for family cars and by 1937, the only sporting production car in the Triumph lineup was the Southern Cross. Its “sporting” nature was rather limited because it was only available with a 4-cylinder engine of modest performance.

      A series of unremarkable sedans and saloons that blended into the background of Rileys, MGs, and Austins followed. They were good cars to be sure, with a reputation for being big and slow but possessing no sporting flair. Newnham took a lot of flack for fitting the 1937 Dolomite coupes and saloons with an obnoxiously large, chrome nose with the hope of attracting the American market. It failed miserably and Triumph’s fortunes declined further.

      By 1939 only 50 cars were built, and Triumph Motor Company was put on the auction block. Bidding for the troubled car manufacturer was just as underwhelming as unit sales. Eventually, steel manufacturer Thomas Ward took the helm of Triumph just as war was declared on Germany. The Coventry factory was closed for the duration.

      Ward kept Donald Healey on as general manager to help sell the company. Unfortunately, while Healey was presenting the company to potential suitors as a viable operation in need of financial support, Ward was selling off many of Triumph’s manufacturing assets. This left little to interest any potential buyer.

      Healey had his own vision for Triumph after the war. He presented a design for a new line of sports cars to Ward and his board of directors. Unfortunately, the ideas were rejected so Ward continued with the sale of the company.

      During the 1930s and 1940s, many carmakers were absorbed by larger entities or simply faded from existence. It’s a bit of a miracle that the Triumph badge carried on. Credit lucky timing and the war.

      This is also where Healey’s involvement with Triumph ends. He took his ideas across town to Riley, which was interested in working with him. It began to build the Healey car in 1946 and everyone knows where that led. It was another great one that got away from Triumph.

      As hostilities wound down and peacetime manufacturing resumed, only a few logical buyers for Triumph were revealed: Austin, Rootes, and Standard. Austin didn’t need Triumph; it would have fit better with Rootes’ marques Sunbeam and Hillman. Standard made the most sense.

      Standard was thriving with an output of 50,000 cars in 1939 and looking to expand under newly appointed managing director John Black. He had recognized the dangers of events in Germany well before war was declared. He had begun working with the British government and preparing to convert factories for wartime production.

      By doing so, Black was able to keep his company running during the war years. Standard built primarily armored cars, but its most significant contribution was production of the all-wooden Mosquito fighter/bomber.

      Black was instrumental in keeping manufacturing plants running to support the war effort in Britain. As a result, he was knighted after the end of World War II.

      Just as Black was savvy enough to anticipate the declaration of war, he also saw it drawing to a close. Before the last shot was fired, Standard was already converting factories back to auto production. That’s when John Black went in search of a sports car to complement his line of family cars.

      CHAPTER 2

       The acerbic Sir John Black. His leadership and efforts during World War II resulted in his knighthood, but he was known for being a harsh taskmaster. Wise and forward thinking in many ways, Black was also capable of making important decisions based solely on emotion. He is seen here with the first Mayflower two-door coupe, another project he oversaw personally. (Photo Courtesy British Motor Industry Heritage Trust)

      The T-series MGs are most frequently credited as being the catalyst for the sports car invasion of the United States. Returning U.S. servicemen brought home more than the spoils of war, they brought back unique little cars. The sporty little MG TA two-seaters with narrow track and skinny wire wheels were like nothing else on American roads of the day. People clamored to get one. And MG’s place became firmly entrenched in automobile lore. The Triumph story is not so quaint or romantic.

      To say that nothing was left of Triumph at the end of the war is a gross understatement. Even if German bombs had not reduced the Briton Road factory to rubble, there would have been no way to build a car because Ward sold off all tooling and production facilities. Triumph had also lost Healey’s deft touch for sports car design after he left to pursue his ideas for his own car. John Black had nothing left but a small cache of replacement parts and barely usable engineering drawings. Fortunately, Black still had William Lyons.

      What cannot be glossed over here is the marvel of how quickly companies such as Standard got back to the business of building cars after the end of the war. It was not just that they had stopped building cars in favor of aircraft or tanks, the factories were bombed heavily and repeatedly. Imagine 1940s Detroit being bombed regularly for years and then to begin retooling for car manufacturing in a mere few months.

      As the war drew to a close in 1944, Lyons went right back to work building his cars. However, he dropped “SS” from the company name because of the very unfortunate link to the German military unit. In 1939, Standard began supplying Lyons’ SS-Jaguar company with an ever-growing number of engines, gearboxes, and axles. Standard also picked up where it had left off. At the time, Black’s personal car happened to be an SS100. Probably not a conflict of interest but it may have raised a few eyebrows.

      It was clear to see how many engines were going to Jaguar. Therefore, Black, who was known to be a harsh taskmaster and also to make emotional decisions, decided that he wanted to add a sporting image to Standard. It was the obvious move after he had made an attempt to partner with Lyons’ company but was rejected on the spot. Reacting impulsively, Black offered to sell Lyons the remaining 6-cylinder engines and all the associated tooling. Lyons seized the opportunity and with one fell swoop gathered everything up and skedaddled down the road before Black could back out. From this day forward, Black was determined to beat Lyons at his own game; he wanted a sports car that would compete with and beat Jaguar head-on.

       Sir John Black (seated) and Harry Ferguson (second from left) formed an alliance wherein Triumph supplied the

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