The sun sets on TVR

TVR is to Blackpool what Peugeot was to Coventry – an institution. It boasts a loyal and proud 260-strong workforce, many of whom started as apprentices back in the 1970s and will be with the company come the sad end in just a few short weeks.

Wednesday's announcement all production work is to be "outsourced" remains a bitter pill to swallow.
The last bastion of the British sports car industry once rode on the crest of a wave and made Blackpool the envy of its rivals.
That has all changed.
Many TVR fans have already besieged website chat forums to state this week's announcement has ripped the very British heart out of the company now destined for mainland Europe or beyond.
The company began its life in 1947, like many great ones do, in a shed in a back garden. It was Trevor Wilkinson's shed and he had big plans for the cars he made from his Fylde home.
His dreams went on to be come a byword for style, class and classic cool.
Mr Wilkinson started trading as Trevcars, but soon changed the name to the three consonants of his name to give it a sleeker image.
in his earlier models, he used and created his own chassis and an old Ford engine. But it was 10 years later that the company began to forge a reputation in the industry with the Grantura.
Dozens of the cars were created and despite a luke-warm reception from the motoring press, the bulky Grantura was welcomed by some enthusiasts who eagerly awaited the next TVR to roll off the production line.
After less than 20 years at the helm of the company and having built up a solid workforce in Blackpool, Trevor Wilkinson handed over the reigns of power to Martin Lilley in 1964.
Martin, who still lives on the Fylde coast, was a former Lotus dealer and knew what enthusiasts demanded from a sports car.
During the 60s, as the rest of the UK was swinging, TVR was going through massive changes. Its reputation had grown and it was being bought by many more people who wanted a fast car to go with their fast lifestyle.
Engine sizes were changing and the American Ford V8 was the choice for many new sports cars.
Under his direction, the company grew and produced new models such as the Vixen, the Tuscan, the 2500M and 3500M and the Taimar.
The Tuscan still remains a firm favourite with TVR enthusiasts today, with thousands produced and hundreds still roaring along roads across the UK and Europe.
Lilley is credited with improving the production quality and managing to grab the headlines when nude models were used at the TVR stand at the Earl's Court motor show in 1971.
Now based at its current site in Bristol Avenue, Bispham, the fervour around TVR was intoxicating. It was a good time to do business with the company.
Good times continued. During this decade the workforce grew beyond 500 for the first time, new models were on the drawing board and the TVR name became a world-wide brand.
Throughout the 1980s, TVR headed to new heights when it was bought by its third owner, former engineer Peter Wheeler. Enthusiasm for the car reached fever pitch.
Peter Wheeler had the same credentials as its previous owner and had the personal drive to take TVR further than it had gone before.
The Wheeler years were the real boom-time for the sports car, which saw the development of cars such as the Chimaera, the Cerbera and the model equivalent to the iconic 60s Griffith, also called the Griffith.
On the race track, TVR was out-performing some of the greats and even the boss could be seen behind the wheel of some of his creations.
During the 1990s, more than 2,000 cars were being sold each year and double that were rolling off the production line.
More than 500 happy workers were not just the pride of Blackpool, but the envy of the UK motor industry.
Even the harsh critics of BBC's Top Gear got in on the act ,proclaiming the new TVR models far exceeded their expectations.
And the firm was gaining celebrity status.
David Beckham, the world's most famous football icon, bought one, comedienne Dawn French chose hers in pink, pop star and flash car guru Jay Kay from Jamiroquai has one and TVR became the stars' car of choice.
TVR even made the silver screen when Hollywood A-Lister John Travolta drove a Tuscan Speed Six in the blockbuster Swordfish, along with Tinseltown babe Halle Berry.
But the good times did not last. The champagne years were quickly followed by a painful hangover.
The end of the 90s saw a decline in the number of models being produced and worker numbers dwindled. It was a sign of things to come.
Wheeler finally sold his company in July 2004 to the as-yet-unknown Russian "playboy" Nikolai Smolenski.
Nicknamed the "baby-faced billionaire", Smolenski's roubles were being seen by insiders as the saviour for TVR.
But the then 23-year-old first had to deal with a major downturn in fortunes within the firm after sales fell by 22 per cent to £16.7m.
But the problems were only going to get worse for both owners and workers at the Bristol Avenue plant.
Smolenski, the only child of banker Alexander Smolenski, had long been a big fan of fast cars and told the press he wanted to take TVR beyond even his expectations and make it a global brand once again.
He was rumoured to be friends with Chelsea FC chairman Roman Abramovich but sadly, unlike the millionaire superstars on Kings Road in the West End, TVR could not be transformed into a European giant.
As TVR's profits went into free-fall, Smolenski turned his attention to the now defunct MG Rover last year, saying he was interested in buying the Midlands car maker.
Unfortunately, with his attentions turned elsewhere, TVR was losing its reputation both at home and abroad. The difficulties the company has faced in the global sports car market were underpinned in TVR's last published accounts. These showed a pre-tax loss of £11.8m in 2005, equivalent to about 70 per cent of its £16.7m turnover.
In February last year, the company laid off 90 workers, blaming a pretty much empty order book.
Eight weeks later, two-thirds of the workforce came back on short-term contracts.
Smolenski made no bones about his problems with the UK's unions and flexed his muscles by failing to meet with them on several occasions.
In April this year he laid off another 71 workers, only to bring most of them back, thanks largely to union pressure.
But TVR could not hide its failure any longer. In May they said it was leaving Blackpool, only to be talked back into staying by Blackpool Council which "went the extra mile, and then some" to offer them what they wanted.
Summer came and went without a word, until September when TVR management said they were to stay in the Bristol Avenue plant, saying health and safety regulations prevented their move to a derelict plant in Squires Gate.
In two years' time, the company was due to make a fresh start at a purpose-built factory at Blackpool Business Park, but its announcement this week means this will never happen.
Turin, Tolouse, Tiblisi? The future home for the company is as yet unknown, with France, eastern Europe and industry favourite Italy all said to be possibilities.
But one thing is for sure. The quintessentially British car is British no longer.
So, farewell then TVR. It has been one hell of a rollercoaster ride – even by Blackpool's standards.

nick.hyde@blackpoolgazette.co.uk

20 October 2006