CHARLES GRIFFIN

When a star shone as brightly as Sir Alec Issigonis, it often pushed huge talents like this British engineer into the shade

IT’S HARD NOT to chuckle at the weary assertion by late BMC engineer Jack Daniels that he was the ‘90% perspiration behind Alec Issigonis’s 10% inspiration’. Issigonis was a brilliant ideas man whom colleagues referred to behind his back as ‘the Greek God’, but he was surrounded by dedicated individuals who toiled to ensure his ideas worked. Daniels was one, and so was Charles Arthur Griffin.

If you ever owned a Morris 1100, Austin 1300 or one of their many spin-offs and you enjoyed its excellent service, it’s Griffin more than Issigonis who needs your appreciation. His painstaking engineering on its front-wheel drive and Hydrolastic suspension ensured it was a great car, topping Britain’s annual sales charts for 1965, 1966, 1968, 1969 and 1970.

Yet in a detailed interview at the 1100’s launch for magazine in August ’62, chief engineer Griffin struggled to get a word in as technical director Issigonis held court. ‘Alec has been pushing us for responsiveness, for “swervability”,’ he proferred, before Issigonis expanded with colourful metaphors on every aspect of the car’s handling and testing.

Born in Birmingham in 1918, Griffin served his engineering apprenticeship at local motorcycle manufacturer BSA, and expanded his skills designing glider wings during WW2. Having joined William Morris’s Nuffield Organisation in 1940, his valuable and creative brainpower during the industrial peacetime of the 1940s saw him made chief experimental engineer. He was soon shepherding important cars towards the production line, including the MG TD in 1949 and the Morris Oxford Series II in 1954.

He was well acquainted with Issigonis through the gestation of the Morris Minor, and the pair were thrown together again when Issigonis returned to BMC in 1956 to design the Mini. ‘Issigonis was a natural,’ Griffin told historian Jon Pressnell. ‘He hadn’t got too much time for mathematics, but he had that amazing eye, and he recognised that engineering obeyed natural laws. He was able to create something quite literally as he was ploughing along with his pencil.’

Griffin, however, was indispensible for detailed problem-solving. He devised the idea of placing the Mini’s battery in its boot to put more weight on the lightly laden rear wheels and therefore gold-plate the car’s legendary roadholding. And among his many other crucial fixes were a spring and piston clip inside the car’s driveshafts to keep them greased and stop them rattling, and filling the rust-prone sills with foam that, once solidified, boosted the car’s stiffness. Colleague Chris Jones, also speaking to Pressnell, judged a clever modification to the Mini’s exterior doorhandle – so it couldn’t snag a pedestrian in an accident – as brilliant and elegant. ‘He just put a little boss in there that needed a very simple change to the doorskin and a simple casting. Simple solutions are often the most difficult to find.’

While Issigonis was frantic with his ADO15 Mini, Griffin oversaw the ADO16 1100 from 1959, and by the time it went on sale in 1962 he was chief engineer. In that interview, Issigonis dismissed ‘fancy styling’ but years later Griffin was more pragmatic discussing the Riley Elf and Wolseley Hornet. ‘It was a less painful way of getting a lot of money for a little work. I’m not sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. It all depended how much profit you make – and I think we used to do very well out of our different marques.’

In the 1960s and ’70s, Griffin worked on BMC’s front-wheel-drive cars, including the ’69 Austin Maxi and the Austin-Morris 18-22 series, aka Princess, in ’75. These cars are often denigrated yet the Maxi bristled with new features – overhead-cam engine, five-speed gearbox and a cavernous hatchback – which Griffin introduced to mainstream British cars. ‘When I want to listen to the radio at 50mph, that’s the time I enjoy fifth speed,’ he said. ‘The noise level comes right down, and you’ve got something very nice and refined. Our ultimate motivation is based on the fact that a motor car is essentially an extension of a person; motoring is a very personalised activity.’

As director of engineering for Austin-Morris, the Metro – Griffin’s favourite for its spaceefficiency – and the Maestro and Montego were created under his aegis. After that he enjoyed a long retirement until he died in Aberystwyth on 31 October 1999.

A lot of humble British cars contain a lot of Charles Griffin. His tasks were rarely easy. Commenting on designing new models at Longbridge in the 1960s, he said: ‘The place was actually falling down around our ears so there simply wasn’t the money.’ But in case you wonder how he survived the relentless BMCBritish Leyland turmoil from 1940s rationing to 1980s Thatcherism, bear in mind he kept the faith. Griffin was a devout Christian.

‘IF YOU OWNED A MORRIS 1100 OR AN AUSTIN 13OO, IT’S GRIFFIN MORE THAN ISSIGONIS WHO DESERVES YOUR APPRECIATION’