In his short stay, Cord changed Auburn forever

By LEE SAUER

Errett Lobban Cord lived in Auburn five years. His official connection to the town lasted another six or seven.

Yet, despite the short time frame, Cord impacted the community more than any single person.

His sense of style and business acumen created the cars which inspired the club, which hosted the festival, which led to the auction, which attracted the on-line traders, which will lead to ...

That's the point.

The full story of E.L. Cord's influence on Auburn, Ind., has yet to be written.

* * *

Errett Lobban Cord was born July 20, 1894, in Warrensburg, Mo. Following his father's store-management jobs, young Cord moved with his family to Joliet, Ill., and onto Los Angeles. Despite being a good student, E.L. (as he preferred to be called), left school at age 15 and took a job as a used car salesman.

Automobiles were bursting onto the scene. Their impact could easily be compared to today's computer craze. Through newfound freedom and speed, they promised to rewrite the future.

Like many young men, E.L. caught the fever. He learned automobiles' intimate details. In a calm voice he convinced customers why they should choose one car over another.

When a job that included car mechanical work opened in a Los Angeles filling station, E.L. jumped at it.

Soon he tinkered with his own automobiles in the shop after hours. Taking ubiquitous Model T Fords, E.L. stripped off the mass-production bodies, added stylistic touches, and souped up the engines. He entered the resulting "T-Speedsters" in the dirt and wooden track racing circuits then popular.

Throughout his life, E.L. chose the cutting edge and showed near disdain for sentiment. The attitude showed itself with T-Speedsters. As soon as he finished one, E.L. sold it and began another. During this phase, he discovered a simple truth: the speedsters that did well in races brought higher prices. He would use real or imagined performance concepts to sell cars throughout the rest of his career.

Ever ambitious, E.L. left Los Angeles and bounced around the Southwest trying one entrepreneurial endeavor after another. He consistently failed. Another of his life-long traits emerged: after each setback, E.L. simply picked himself up and tried something else.

By November of 1918, E.L. had used up his meager resources and luck. Barely pausing for reflection, he left his new wife and two young sons with his mother in Los Angeles and headed to Chicago. Why? An acquaintance had given him a letter of introduction to a successful Windy City auto dealer.

After a shaky interview in which he offended the owner by lighting a cigarette, E.L. caught a break with the dealership's sales manager. The young man made the most of the opportunity, becoming the company's top salesman. In a foray on his own to run a Milwaukee car distributor company, E.L. learned the intricacies of high finance and promotion.

In 1924, E.L. sat on a huge bundle of cash. He began to look for a car manufacturing company to buy.

Meanwhile, in northern Indiana, Auburn Automobile Co. struggled to survive. Like many independent automakers, it fell victim to a maturing market that favored ever bigger companies. Although it had enjoyed some success and nurtured a respected brand name in its own small region, AAC careened toward bankruptcy.

Ironically, a Chicago group of venture capitalists hoping to cash in on the car craze owned the small-town car company (they bought out the local founding Eckhart family in 1919). The group heard of Cord, the 29-year-old super salesman making waves in their hometown, and invited him down for a look at the Auburn operation.

After giving a tour of the plant in the summer of 1924, AAC offered E.L. a top management position. He brushed off the offer, then outlined what he wanted: complete control of the decision process, 20 percent of profits and a guaranteed option to buy the company once he had turned it around.

Imagine the silence in that board room.

Insulting as the upstart's demands were, the financiers had no more attractive options. After some huffing and puffing, they capitulated to Cord.

The rest is Auburn history.

E.L. blew into town in a whirlwind of activity. He sold dowdy old Auburn models at huge discount. In one particularly memorable promotion, he dressed some unsold stock in bright new paint jobs, parked them around Auburn's courthouse square, and invited dealers to take a look. According to legend, every car sold.

Then E.L. began manufacturing cars that fit his style and temperament. He didn't aim to please customers; he wanted to overwhelm and amaze them.

The company vaulted back to life. In November of 1925, just over a year after he took control, E.L. had accumulated enough profits to exercise his option and buy out the company owners.

The car world took notice as the success of the youthful, upstart company accelerated. Cord began to build a transportation empire. In Indiana, he bought a Connersville manufacturing complex and an Indianapolis automaker named Duesenberg. He veered into aviation, buying the Stinson Aircraft Co. of Michigan, and creating Chicago-based Century Airlines. Still later, he bought big city cab companies and a New York shipyard.

E.L. seemed to produce profits magically. He became deeply involved in the stock market and watched commodities with an eagle eye. Close associates would get mysterious phone calls and would recognize Cord when the caller asked, "Want to make some money?"

Despite Horatio Alger success stories, up until the Great Depression, American wealth largely remained in a few traditional hands. A sort of New World aristocracy controlled the nation's purse strings and didn't relish losing its favored grip.

The stock market provided a good illustration of their elite status. Members of old financial circles commonly manipulated stock and traded with insider information. Not only was the practice common, it was generally accepted as a type of birthright for the wealthy few. The U.S. government didn't like it, but until the practice played a hand in plunging the country into economic depression, no laws were passed to stop it.

E.L., the young upstart, played the money game with the best of the old hands. They, in turn, deeply resented him.

Their rage grew when they tried to trap him and he consistently slipped away. For example, the well-financed Aviation Corp. used size and power to buy E.L.'s Century Airlines in 1932. Before the year was up, however, E.L. quietly bought Aviation Corp. stock. At the board meeting that fall, directors were shocked to learn that E.L. had become the majority stockholder. Not only had he regained control of Century, but American Airways (the company that became American Airlines) as well!

But, if E.L. rose fast, he crashed even quicker.

Through his quick expansion and numerous takeovers, E.L. bumped against unsavory elements ­­ businessmen who dealt in physical harm along with ledgers. Although he never explained why, in 1933 at the height of his power, E.L. secretly moved his second wife and still-growing family to Europe. Just as mysteriously, two years later, they quietly moved back.

Meanwhile, a member of the American aristocracy ­­ new President Franklin Delano Roosevelt ­­ went against his own and waged war against unscrupulous stock trading practices. If that move angered the Old Money set, the next move made them giggle with glee: the government bureau charged with cleaning up the market ­­ the Securities and Exchange Commission ­­ instituted one of its first legal proceedings against an aristocracy outsider:

E.L. Cord.

The empire builder began to feel like a boxer with more than one opponent in the ring. Economic bad times, which had barely touched E.L., delivered some hard blows.

Cord had built his automobile success on perception. Duesenberg models were proclaimed the best car in the world; they had to be, for only real royalty and movie stars could afford them. Cord models appealed to adventurous and cutting-edge characters who also were able to spend a pretty penny.

But despite high-flying reputations, Duesenbergs and Cords didn't contribute profits to the company. Moderately priced Auburn models provided the company's economic engine.

Banking on association with their high-class cousins, Auburn autos were shown in front of country clubs and stylistic mansions. E.L. built a layered promotion which basically said, "You may not be a member of the aristocracy, but you can look like one."

The perception worked with members of the self-indulgent 1920s set. America loved Fitzgerald and flappers. The country craved frivolousness and leisurely riches.

As the Great Depression settled over the country, however, America turned its back on wealth. The rich became villains and silly buffoons in popular entertainment. Heroes such as Lil' Abner and the Marx Brothers poked holes in snobby facades.

The trend against ostentation can be tracked in AAC sales. In 1931, the company posted its all-time record profit. Then, as the company continued to churn out cars with airs of fine living, profits went into a free fall.

Another part of the problem could be traced to E.L.'s lack of attention. While he kept focused on the car business, his automobiles stayed ahead of trends rather than succumbing to them. But as Cord's empire and legal troubles grew, he tuned into other matters. A graph of E.L.'s automobile interest level would rise and fall almost in concert with AAC profits.

Embattled by the SEC investigation, financial struggles, the airline fight, and the slipping grasp of far-flung investments, E.L.'s health deteriorated.

An era came to an end in the late summer of 1937. In two Chicago courtrooms not far apart, E.L. succumbed to a hostile takeover of his empire by a young American aristocrat, and agreed to court-ordered limitations on his stock market dealings.

After it was over, E.L. threw a briefcase containing what was left of his personal fortune in the backseat of a Lincoln and headed to the West Coast.

Cord lived another 37 years. His star never shone again as brightly on the national scene, but he rose to new heights nonetheless. He made another fortune in real estate and mining. He dabbled in broadcasting, oil wells and livestock.

He backed into politics. When tapped to replace a Nevada state legislator who passed away, E.L. reinvented himself. He turned from an autocratic leader to a thoughtful, consensus-building lawmaker. He grew so popular that experts considered him a lock to win the Nevada gubernatorial race in 1958. Ever his own man, E.L. refused to run without ever explaining why.

At 79 years old, he passed away from the effects of cancer on Jan. 2, 1974.

E.L. Cord's physical presence in Auburn and his success in the auto world didn't endure.

But remove Cord from Auburn history and you take from town the Auburn Cord Duesenberg Museum and NATMUS; you take away Kruse International and e-Bay; you take away the Auburn Cord Duesenberg Festival, the economic impact of thousands of visitors each year, and the sundry side businesses built on car nostalgia.

Cord may not have driven the city's streets for long, but his historical journey with Auburn continues.