The Bricklin SV-1 was a futuristic gullwing-door car that generated enormous publicity after it was built, much of it negative.
New Brunswick poured millions into its production between 1974 and 1976, but the car never became a viable product. Three years ago, Time magazine named it the worst car of the period from 1975 to 1989. But the U.S. entrepreneur behind it, Malcolm Bricklin, still calls it a “fabulous car” and says New Brunswick’s then-premier Richard Hatfield “got his money’s worth” from the publicity value alone.
Plumbing both sides of the story through the car’s wild rise and fall is The Bricklin: An Automotive Fantasy, a musical that has been selling out the Fredericton Playhouse. Tim Yerxa, executive director of the Playhouse, which is co-producing the show with Theatre New Brunswick, says the story evolved into a much more reflective tale than the usual finger-pointing. But it’s not just a dry recitation of events. Set in the 1970s, the musical evokes the colours, costumes and wild dreams of that era.
Why a musical about the Bricklin?
The musical’s full houses suggest it is tapping into a still-vibrant local debate about whether the New Brunswick government was right to get involved with Mr. Bricklin. Mr. Yerxa, who says he has always been fascinated by the story and the larger-than-life characters involved, had a very different idea of the basic Bricklin history than what writers Allen Cole and Paul Ledoux ultimately came up with.
“I thought it would be a retelling of The Music Man, the snake-oil salesman who comes to town and takes everyone’s money,” he says. “But the more we started looking at it … they were just people with big dreams and maybe they were too big to become reality.”
The production bought a Bricklin and Mr. Yerxa got to drive it a bit before the show started. He now believes that “all the things people say are wrong with the Bricklin are true” – but it was still turning heads wherever he went.
Bringing back the Seventies
The bright orange vehicle will be sharing space at the Playhouse with actors playing Mr. Hatfield, Mr. Bricklin and several fictitious characters. The set is deliberately loud – director Alisa Palmer likened it to a 1970s television show – and there will be lots of burnt orange and white.
Costumes, hairstyles and music have all been chosen to reflect the 1970s. It was a turbulent time: Change hadn’t stopped with the close of the 1960s and, as Ms. Palmer puts it, “it took about 10 years for all this to hit New Brunswick.”
She was a child then and remembers Mr. Hatfield as a charismatic, Trudeau-like figure. His towering political presence is reflected in the performance, as is the magnetic appeal that helped the car seduce the province’s leaders.
“I’m not even a car person, particularly, but it really stands out,” Ms. Palmer says. “It’s sleek and low and sensual.”
The music is equally charged. “There’s some excellent music from the period and not just ABBA, Bee Gees kind of stuff,” Ms. Palmer says. “There’s the stuff that really gets down into your pants.”
A scene from The Bricklin: An Automotive Fantasy.
Just like Boogie Nights
The story now seems unbelievable.
According to Bricklin, a book written by H.A. Fredericks with Allan Chambers, Mr. Hatfield sunk millions into the car before a finished model was unveiled in New York. Hoping the venture would bring an economic boost to his province, the premier was quoted saying he had “invested a lot of faith in this car.”
That faith was sorely tested as the province poured in more money. And through it all was the jarring disconnect of a glamorous sports car – launched in a New York hotel ballroom reported to have been rented, in 1974, for $50,000 – being built in the Canadian hinterland.
“When [Malcolm] Bricklin came here back in the 1970s, it was like an alien had landed,” documentary filmmaker Christien Leblanc told the CBC in 2005. “It was Boogie Nights in this conservative little corner of the country.”
The party ended in 1975. According to Mr. Hatfield’s official biography, the government swallowed a $23-million loss when the failed venture went into receivership that year. An estimated 2,854 cars were built. Few are thought to remain in New Brunswick – the model used in the musical was sourced from Florida – and stories of their defects are legion.
The Bricklin today
Now 71, Mr. Bricklin believes he has been unfairly criticized for the venture’s failure. He blames the inexperience of the local workers and says that it was too easy for labourers to tap unemployment insurance, making it hard to keep a stable work force.
“That car was a fabulous car that got a lot of great attention,” he says on the phone from New York.
Others agree, though perhaps not quite as vociferously. David Corcoran, president of the Calgary oil company Blackdog Resources, says that he has been entranced by the Bricklin since his youth and hopes to buy one this year.
“It’s one of those cars that a guy likes to have,” he says. “It’s so unique and there’s so few of them.”
But Mr. Corcoran has limited expectations for the car, which tends to trade for between $8,000 and $20,000.
“So if the ride’s a little bumpy or the air conditioning doesn’t work well, or at all, so what?” he says. “Does it drive like a beast? Probably. Do I care? No.”
