Humber Imperial V8: a Chrysler-Powered British Luxury Sedan That Didn’t Pan Out

As the story goes, one of the first Shelby-built prototype Sunbeam Tigers arrived in England to be greeted by a glowering Lord William Rootes, first Baron of Rootes. Presented as a fait accompli done in secret by his son Brian, the little V-8-powered roadster was not the kind of thing Lord Rootes expected his companies to produce. For decades, the Rootes Group had moved sensible and reliable metal out of its factories, steadily growing to become one of Britain’s six largest automakers. Reluctantly, Lord Rootes slid behind the wheel.

There are two tales the Sunbeam Tiger community likes to tell about that day, though both are hard to prove. One is that Lord Rootes set off with the handbrake still on, but the torque of the Tiger’s mighty Ford V-8 still impressed. The other is that he found the speed so unexpected that he drove right over the center of a roundabout, tearing up the turf and heading straight on. Whatever the case, Lord Rootes returned from his drive and immediately placed an order for 3000 V-8s from Ford.

What is less known is that this was not the only American V-8 engine swap that Rootes indulged in. If anything, it seems like this first taste of Yankee eight-cylinder power was habit-forming, and Lord Rootes wanted more.

Humber, the pride of Coventry

At its peak, the Rootes Group was basically the General Motors of England, multiple brands stacked under a corporate umbrella, each with its own specialty. Sunbeam was fun and sporty, Commer was the commercial division, and Hillman offered businesslike reliability. Humber was the luxury marque.

The company had a long history of quality before Rootes swallowed it up. Established as a bicycle company in the late nineteenth century, it had an excellent reputation with the public. When an investment group bought up several cycle-makers including Humber, they named the entire group Humber Limited to take advantage of that reputation.

Building cars came later, and Humber enjoyed sufficient success through the 1920s to acquire the truck manufacturer Commer. The timing wasn’t great, as the Great Depression hit soon afterward, and Lord Rootes and his brother swooped in to take a controlling interest.

Born in 1894 in a small village in Kent, Lord Rootes was at first just Billy Rootes, son of a bicycle repairman. His father, William Rootes Sr. owned his own shop, but he’d had to save up to get it. As had happened with Humber, bicycles gave way to automobiles, and the Rooteses soon had a flourishing business selling and repairing cars. Billy’s innate grasp of business developed further as he worked alongside his father, and later in aero engine repair. He and his younger brother Reginald decided to strike out for themselves.

All through the 1930s, the Rootes brothers snapped up cash-strapped manufacturers, Humber among them. At the outbreak of WWII, the Rootes Group was ideally situated to contribute to the war effort. Through the war, its factories built one out of every seven RAF bombers, sixty percent of the British Army’s armored cars and thirty percent of the scout cars, and 50,000 airplane engines. For their efforts, both Billy and Reggie were knighted.

Beyond the royal recognition, the Rootes Group—and specifically Humber—benefited from a little reflected glory. During those wartime years, both Winston Churchill and Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery were chauffeured in Humber Pullman limousines (Sir Winston’s had, as you’d expect, an extra-large ashtray fitted). With coachwork by Thrupp and Maberly, these Humbers offered luxury and elegance, discreetly. One could hardly say, “I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat,” and then go swanning off in a Rolls-Royce.

At the same time, Humbers served as staff cars for British officers, and in reconnaissance roles. Specifically, these were Super Snipes, an evolution of the earlier and smaller Humber Snipe, now packing the same straight-six power as the Pullman. “Super Snipe” is an excellent name for a car, and they were pretty quick by 1940s standards. In the postwar years that followed, owning a Humber Super Snipe was a sign that you were doing very well indeed, and was also one of the most respectable cars you could be seen driving.

An Imp in the gears, and Chrysler

Not everyone in postwar Britain was doing well enough to afford a Humber, though, and the Rootes Group desperately needed something thrifty for its domestic market. That desperation caused something of a fumble, as the Hillman Imp proved to be a costly error, an innovative little car but one that was rushed into production.

With the Imp’s problems compounded by issues with the new factory the British Government had required, Rootes was in financial trouble. By this time, the original Lord Rootes had died, and the company chairman position was taken up by his son, also named William. One of the final actions of the first Baron was to set in motion a deal with Chrysler that would keep the family in charge. In practice, as the 1960s progressed and the Rootes Group’s financial position worsened, Chrysler took up a larger share of the ownership and greater control along with it.

Thus was the stage set for the other Rootes Group V-8 project, forgotten and short-lived as it was. Located in the Isle of Man Motor Museum, part of a highly unusual private collection that makes up the backbone of the museum, is a 1966 Humber Super Snipe Imperial, the top trim offered for the Snipe. And under its hood is not the usual inline-six, but a 273-cubic inch Chrysler V-8.

Twelve of these cars are said to have been built, six prototypes and six pre-production cars. The first of them sounds a bit like the development engineers were having a bit of fun at the office, as it actually had a larger 318-cubic inch (5.1-liter) V-8 rather than the 4.8-liter motor the rest of the dozen got, as well as a manual transmission. There are a few stories about it being thrashed around the local roads, lighting up the rear tires under throttle, and oversteering through the roundabouts.

For an obvious parallel, one needs only to pop over to West Bromich, where the Jensen Interceptor coupe was successfully using Chrysler V-8 power as a selling point. But while a powerful V-8 GT was a recipe that made plenty of sense, squeezing eight cylinders into the nose of a Humber was no easy task. Production would have required some reworking that ultimately didn’t make sense for a decade-old car made by a company that was facing challenges and under new ownership.

So, only a handful of prototypes were built, and those were mostly used by the Rootes family and friends. This example was the car Lord Rootes’ brother Reginald was chauffeured around in, and he kept it for many years. Found in poor shape in 2008, it was bought by Denis and Darren Cunningham, a father and son duo who have had a particular interest in the Humber brand ever since Denis bought one to use as a taxi to earn some extra money on the side. Not far away from this Imperial in the museum, you can find the 1953 Humber Super Snipe built for Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip’s coronation tour of the Commonwealth. The Cunninghams have somewhere in the area of about thirty Humbers, as well as dozens of other fascinating cars.

The Isle of Man Motor Museum has a large display of racing motorcycles, as you’d expect, but all kinds of other unusual vehicles from a prototype right-hand-drive DeLorean DMC-12 to a 1954 Greyhound Scenic bus with an estimated six million miles on the odometer. The place looks well worth the visit.

And it’s nice to see this special Humber carefully preserved, a footnote of British motoring history but an important one. It’s a relic of a time when Lord Rootes once dared to grasp a Tiger by its tail.