Tom Karen Designer

The Scimitar GTE was launched in 1968. Ian Morton, the Evening Standard’s motoring correspondent described it as ‘one of the most handsome and significant bodylines to come out of Britain for some time’. After more than fifty years it doesn’t look very dated.

How did the GTE come about? David Ogle had designed an elegant body to fit on a Daimler SP250 platform for a private client. David was killed in a car accident in May 1962 and I, newly arrived at Ogle, had to finish it and get the car to the Earls Court motor show in October. It made a good impression there and Ray Wiggin, MD of Reliant, makers of the Regal three wheeler, conceived the idea of adapting the body to fit the platform of the Sabre sports car they were making that wasn’t selling. We made the necessary changes to the body to create the Scimitar Coupe, launched in 1964.

One car had a new greenhouse designed to demonstrate new types of Triplex glass and ways of bonding it to bodies – the GTS (Glass Top Special). It was exhibited at important motor shows in 1966 but Prince Philip fancied it and used it for two years.

Meanwhile sales of the coupe were still relatively slow and this was blamed on the poor seating at the back. We were tasked to find an answer to this. We modelled two sides on to a coupe shell, one with a greenhouse extended backwards and for the other I had the roof extending all the way to the back – this offered excellent rear seats, great carrying capacity, sound aerodynamics, and with an improved chassis, the ‘High Performance Estate’ was born. Named the GTE (Gran Turismo Estate), the design was so controversial that some people hated it while enough people loved it. A striking feature of the car was the waistline (the line between the body and the greenhouse) that went up all the way to the back. No one had ever done this before but it’s found its way onto almost every car since then.

Reliant had truly arrived as ‘respectable’ carmakers. Interestingly, the GTE often appealed to architects, designers and surgeons, who considered Jaguars and Mercedes stuffy. The owner Reliant valued highly was Princess Ann, especially when she made headlines for speeding.

A larger and more sedate GTE was launched in 1977, followed by a convertible, the GTC in 1980.

Reliant had plans for a four door GTE. I was very pleased with the design but it didn’t happen. I also proposed a wedge shaped, rear engined sports car, but it was abandoned as no suitable engine was available.

When Reliant ran into troubles the GTE design was sold to Middlebridge who introduced refinements. A high percentage of their cars and of the GTC are still on the road.

I was still working in the aircraft industry in 1953 (having studied aeronautical engineering) when I started to build a compact, two seat, three wheeler with an aluminium body. The windscreen folded forward to provide access. It wasn’t pretty but highly original. I named it ‘VIMP’, an amalgam of vamp and imp.

I had to leave the VIMP unfinished when I went to the Central School to study industrial design briefly and then got a job in Ford’s styling studio. There my design career took off - In 1958 I won a national car design competition.

I arrived at Ogle in 1962 after poor David had his fatal car accident. A year later we started working for Reliant on the Scimitar coupé. I floated to them the idea of producing a two seat, three wheel sports car and even had two 1/8th scale models made, but Reliant weren’t interested.

My luck changed when Reliant bought out Bond and needed to put a new model in their range. We were given a chassis, a shortened version of the one destined for the Robin, to produce a sporty two seater. We developed the package around this. The challenge I set myself was to create a body of utmost simplicity: the fewest possible number of panels to build the body, all of them to come out of moulds without undercuts (I hated the bolting and unbolting of moulds practiced at Reliant), a single ‘door’ with a flat windscreen. The prototype, called Rogue, achieved all this and the enthusiasm for the project at Ogle was palpable.

Reliant approved what we had done but sensibly asked for some boot space and widening of the front end. They also hit on the inspired name ‘Bug’.

I proposed a single colour for all the Bugs (another cost saving) and when I found someone trying to put a plastic badge on the front, I offered the bold Bug graphics it ended up with. Development of the vehicle from start to finish took less than a year.

The launch of the Bug at Woburn Abbey in 1970 was a sensation. The ‘Ferrari’ that sixteen year olds could drive, and never fail to get attention in, was born. The cheeky little orange three wheeler got attention around the world (a toy model was quickly produced in Hong Kong).

But sadly the Bug was also born under an unlucky star. A number of factors conspired to deprive it of its potential and production stopped when only 2270 were built. But enthusiasm for it never faltered, there are Bug owners round the world and there is a lively Bug Club organizing regular events.

The body of the Land Speeder for the original Star Wars film was made at Ogle and fitted to a Bond Bug platform. Later becoming one of the iconic vehicles featured in the classic film.

Raleigh’s Marketing Director Peter Seels came to see me at Ogle in 1968. He explained that the US company Schwinn were producing a rugged bicycle for kids that was a great success. Raleigh wanted to capture a share of that market but with a design that had a distinct flavour of its own.

I remember thinking during the meeting that our design would have a big wheel at the back like a Formula 1 car or dragster. We produced several illustrations of a design using straight tubes unlike the Schwinn that used very curvaceous ones.

Peter presented them to his board and came back with the message that their Engineering Director, Alan Oakley, had reservations about a bicycle with different wheel sizes going down the production line. I was puzzled by this and explained I had no better answers to offer.

Peter then had the design accepted together with the other features that gave the Chopper its special appeal: the car like gear shift, the L-shaped saddle with the (make believe) springs and the mudguards lifted clear of the wheels. I felt the rear wheel looked a bit bare, so we furnished it with what looked like disc brakes. Ogle produced all the drawings for the final design and made prototype components.

Oakley I later found had produced a prototype named 'Rodeo' that had not found favour with Raleigh management and I was surprised when he was given credit for the Chopper design with no mention of our involvement.

The Chopper was a great success and when Peter Seels had plans to take Raleigh into the baby market he came to Ogle for the design of prams, ride on toys and a swing.

I don’t know what possessed my parents to learn to fly, especially as they did so on tricky, French, WWI aircraft. My father later gave my Mother an aircraft she flew in competitions where her meticulous planning helped her to win trophies. To go on holidays we flew from Brno to the Lido in three engined Fokkers or Savoia Marketis, canvas covered wooden aircraft, unpressurised of course, flying low over the Alps.

I was familiar with aircraft as I was with cars and going very fast forward, when we arrived in the UK, in 1942, I was happy to study aircraft engineering. I enjoyed my three years at Loughborough but I explain elsewhere how my career in the aircraft industry was little short of disastrous.

That changed at Ogle

We got a job from SAAB to build a cabin section for them. When Crossair orderd the new SAAB 2000 model I managed to get the job of introducing some extra flair into their cabins.

Headed by Maurice Suter, this remarkable company specialised in flying passengers from Basel to destinations across the Alps a journey that took trains, buses and cars massively more time.

This was around 1990. At the same time BAe had decided to stretch their feeder liner Jetstream J31 into the 29 seat J41. They needed to show the aircraft at the Le Bourget air show but it wasn’t ready to be flown there. My great luck was that a wonderful man, Nigel Wemyss, who had held senior positions in aircraft industry, was helping me with the management at Ogle and we were able to win the job of designing the cabin and building a full size, fully detailed mock up.

I softened all the shapes and lightened all the colours compared to the J31, brought elements of the exterior logo to the inside. I redesigned the seats, had the J41 embroidered in the headrest and went to Switzerland to have a special fabric woven for them. The challenge of building the mock up was huge as the timescale was short. The fuselage was in aluminium with GRP nose and tail. The cabin was air-conditioned and the cockpit fully detailed. A special touch was the steps to enter the aircraft: I provided a canopy to protect visitors from the usual heat and occasional rain. Our model shop made a quite exceptional effort to get our lovely mock up to the show. ‘Why couldn’t we have a cabin like that’ was the comment from a Dornier representative (who had a nicer aircraft).

And there was another outcome

Airbus came knocking on my door (it was flattering for them to take the initiative, as Renault did also). Bob Lange, the Marketing Director, responsible for the cabin of what became the A380 super jumbo, invited me to Toulouse to comment on the interior.

I consider this as one of my failures: I found the engineers loathe to move out of their comfort zone and I was unable to persuade them to accept ideas that would have made the aircraft a distinct improvement on the Boeing 747 rival.

An interesting discovery I made while working for Airbus was that they had toyed with fuselage section spread horizontally, made up of two intersecting ‘bubbles’. I had a rather wild model made with that configuration and a canard wing arrangement. We called it Aircruiser I. Coming down to earth I considered that the most widely used passenger aircraft was the Boeing 737 and Airbus 320 carrying nearly 200 passengers. There was a need for a new generation of such aircraft for 300 passengers and led me to scheme Aircruiser II. It featured again a flat fuselage producing lift but with three horizontal bubbles. Compared to a circular fuselage, where the space under the cabin floor and above the ceiling are underused, this configuration provides room for a much more flexible and appealing cabin.

Aircruiser II would have a welcoming entrance leading to a coffee bar where passengers could get refreshment, stretch their legs and socialise. Luggage would be accommodated in accessible floor to ceiling racks (avoiding the loss of luggage). Locating these randomly would offer the possibility of creating smaller, cosier cabins, even seating around tables for families and groups of friends. To replace the usual bus-like cabins. Separate internet stations would be available. A highly desirable amenity would be purpose designed ladies and gents toilets. There is good evidence that these would be no heavier or expensive than the usual cramped, unisex ones. For the wide, shark like nose I locate the cockpit to one side so that some passengers would have a view forward.

With the flat fuselage providing lift the wings can be smaller and lighter. I also propose a ‘box wing’ configuration, rather like a staggered biplane, that has a reduced span and is structurally efficient. I schemed Aircruise II around the turn of the century and expected something like it to take off within twenty years. Flat fuselages and box wings are being explored by research organisations but there is no evidence yet from the conventional by the leading plane maker.

We worked for the German seat maker Recaro who made seating for major airlines. Apart from their efficiency, I noted that an engineer was running the company. I never encountered this with a UK company.

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I lived in the Hertfordshire village of Ashwell, within easy reach of my office, for more than thirty years. The Ashwell spring is one of the sources of the river Cam. The drawing of the High Street shows the cottage where my four children were born. The Stork announced the birth of my youngest, Eugenie.

For Christmas one year I drew a map of Ashwell. It took hours of concentrated work. I could not afford a single mistake. It has now been made into a tea towel and cards to benefit Ashwell's museum and a children's charity. Most of my work is in 3D (three dimensions) and the map is a rare example of finished 2D work

We later moved to Ringstead, a handsome Victorian house in the village with a big garden to provide vital space for the children. Some of the happiest times in Ashwell I shared with my lovely dog Bonnie. He was a wonderful mix of Labrador and Collie. Nothing could be better.

La Meridiana is as close to heaven-on-earth as I could ever hope to get. You fly to Pisa, spend time in the sun by the tower before the train is due to leave, then a short trip to Bagnano to be picked up and transported to the lovely house, on top of a hill surrounded by fields of vineyards and sunflowers, within sight of San Gimignano where open air operas are performed and striking distance of Siena, a city I adore. All that’s best in Tuscany.

The house itself is lovely with the pottery studio behind the arched opening on the right. Inside the house there are arches over doors – this chimes with my belief that we would all be happier living under domed ceilings and going through arches. And that is not all, students come to the courses held there from far and wide including the USA – and the food was lovely.

Most people come to throw pots on a wheel while I invariably build. I have my own techniques that ‘proper’ potters disapprove off but my stuff never collapses. A young children’s dentist from Padua came to throw and converted to building when she saw what fun I had doing things my way. Because I could not take everything I made with me I gave her a pot she called the Picasso bird. I also did a swap with a girl working at MOMA in New York.

In the Taxi taking me back to Pisa I chatted with the driver and mentioned a new Fiat I had just seen. He knew who the designer was and appreciated its refinement. A British motoring journalist described it as ‘bland’. I think Italians are born with artistry in their DNA.

I rate the marble run as my most inspired creation. It came about when I observed my children playing with a wooden marble run, given to them by my sister, where the marbles simply zig-zagged down from top to bottom. All they could then do was to pick them up and return them to the top. And yet, they seemed to get remarkable satisfaction from it. It occurred to me that if such a game could be made up of a number of components and be assembled in alternative ways to make up a run, it would offer an inviting test and end up with a hugely satisfying reward.

Designing such a product seemed an irresistible challenge for me too. My mind seems to be programmed to enable me to juggle around a number of ideas at the same time: the function, the form, the way to make something (the latter easy to resolve as it had to be injection moulded plastic). I let ideas percolate in my mind and when they took a certain shape, I would record them in my sketchbook (was never without one). This would clear my mind before tackling further problems. My sketches for the marble run are in the archives of the V&A. I arrived at the conclusion that just three components would make a great game though I could foresee curved bridges even at that stage. Only when I had firmed up on these did I have drawings made for our model makers to make a prototype set. No trial and error was involved - I relied entirely on their skill.

The model was perfect, worked well and looked great. From the initial concept to this point took about one month. With help from a member of the toy making Lines family, we sold the game to Kiddicraft in exchange for a 5% royalty. It was called ‘Builda, Helta, Skelta' and sales took off, increasing royalties came in year by year. I could probably have retired on these aged 50. But then our commercial naivety was exposed - Kiddicraft was taken over and we failed to fight for the continuity of the royalties (there was so much else going on at Ogle) and this lovely income stream came to halt.

Despite this, I find it hugely rewarding to know that millions of children round the world have derived endless pleasure playing with my marble run.

I am a long term admirer of African art and could not resist a workshop in Malawi. It was at a commercial pottery on the side of a huge lake – great for having a dip three times a day. They made things like insulators, also tourist souvenirs.

The only thing of consequence I made was a little figure, about 180mm tall, a combination of an African lady and Naomi Campbell. I did it one peaceful Sunday morning when no one was about. I don’t think I have ever made or drawn a realistic figure before or since – but I am pleased with her. At other times I decorated pieces thrown by there potters (I build, not throw).

One day we visited a neighbouring village. The Head lady sat on the sand surrounded by children. I happen to have my sketchbook and some pens with me and handed these to the children. There was no stopping them. It prompted me to ask the pottery owner if the children could be invited to the pottery to draw, model and decorate tiles, which he very sportingly did. On the day they came in their Sunday best and worked furiously (an extra treat was a bread roll). I later copied a house drawn by Chipililo Chafuka on to a mug. I could only take photos of the tiles and models.

I managed to draw examples of Malawi art work and noted the furniture sold by the road side. One evening I walked along the beach where some boys played football (with an improvised newspaper ball). They came over to see me, wanting to try my torch. I later thought that in some European cities I might have lost my torch, and my wallet as well. My destination was a bar where white people called the black barman ‘Boy’, I didn’t stay for long!

One of the potters made some little bowls for me, great throwing, and one of them had a domestic scene on one side and a fishing one the other. I value them greatly.

I don’t like throwing things away. I see potential for turning items of no apparent value into something pleasing, and I have always liked using my hands to make stuff.

While running my company Ogle Design I had little opportunity for this although I did make some pottery. When I retired, at the end of the nineties, I moved to Cambridge, to a Victorian terrace house with a workshop at the bottom of the garden. A new world opened up - from being a designer I could become a craftsman/artist.

I love handling different materials – clay, wood, cane, also paper and cardboard. This led me to make my many birds (featured elsewhere). It also coincided with an enlightened government ‘designers into schools’ scheme. I volunteered immediately. I love children and readily establish a good rapport with them. So, running workshops in primary schools, museums and many at Kettle’s Yard in Cambridge and the Sainsbury Centre in Norwich took off.

I found that children share my enthusiasm for turning ‘throw away’ materials into something of value. The pieces illustrated were made to show what can be done. Some even use bits cut out of newspapers to decorate them (no need for paint). The results of these workshops were hugely rewarding and showed just how creative children are.

I see the smallest person deserving respect. I could never picture myself ticking a baby’s tummy and making funny noises at it. I may clutch a foot if permitted to do so and talk to it normally. I made my views with the babygrows I decorated for my first grandchild Theo and went on from there.

I supported a campaign by Cambridge Young Greens. What bothered me, however, is their hopeless party logo. It has a squiggle in the middle, representing the world perhaps, unsuccessfully, of course as you can only fit half inside a circle. I offered a bold design to start them thinking, sending a copy to Caroline Lucas. No answer came. Parties are ready to fill your inbox with messages but are careful not to invite comment.

“When Boris Johnson had his brush with death I wondered if he might have developed new ideas about his role. With a strong following in the House and support from many working class members, he might decide to shift the Tory party to the political centre ground and close the gap between the rich and the poor. Heavier taxes on those who can afford it to end people living in poverty, badly housed and with children going to school hungry. Education for all would be free and the NHS properly funded. Britain would abandon the pretence of being a world power and retire its unaffordable nuclear submarines. When Boris comes to record the history of his achievements he will no doubt mention how, in 2020, his decisive action to thwart the effect of the Coronavirus saved countless lives”.

This message was sent to The Guardian but it didn’t get printed.

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