Below is the fourth installment of our Harley-Davidson vs Indian Motorcycle series, which explores the historic rivalry between the two giants of American motorcycling. This installment covers the years between 1954 and 1999 after Indian closed its doors and was originally published in American Rider’s December 2023 issue.
Related: Harley-Davidson vs Indian Motorcycle Part 1
Related: Harley-Davidson vs Indian Motorcycle Part 2
Related: Harley-Davidson vs Indian Motorcycle Part 3
By the mid-1900s, Indian and Harley-Davidson had been jockeying for position as the favored American motorcycle brand for half a century.
Indian, on the American scene since 1901, experienced explosive growth until a combination of overexpansion, the arrival of the affordable automobile, and an overly exuberant response to World War I demands made for a cumulative drag on the company’s fortunes.
Indian also suffered from the premature retirement of its two founders. Oscar Hedstrom, the mechanical brains of Indian, retired after only 10 years at the helm. George Hendee, the marketing genius who made the company the largest of its kind in the world in less than 10 years, was rendered ineffective as Indian’s investors and stock manipulations all but forced him out by 1916.
From that point, non-motorcycle types at Indian made several missteps in the pursuit of profits. Even though its motorcycles were among the finest in the world, the American sales crown was handed over to Harley-Davidson by the 1920s. When management finally woke up to the facts, it was too little, too late. Indian folded its tent in 1953.
So Harley-Davidson became the only major manufacturer of American-made motorcycles for more than 50 years. The MoCo had modestly begun operations a mere two years after Indian, but it built momentum year after year for the entirety of the four founders’ tenures. They were true believers but also hard-nosed pragmatists when it came to the motorcycle business. Combined with their conservative approach to engineering and development, H-D was able to withstand ups and downs through wars, competition, and vagaries in the economy.
Following Indian’s demise, Harley-Davidson’s half-century of having the domestic market to develop and defend is a story that has been covered, but we’ll touch on some lesser known events in that illustrious epoch, including the machinations and manipulation of the once-proud Indian marque, dormant but not dead for that same half-century. The name had enough magic to be slapped onto oddball hybrids and minibikes – none made in the U.S. – but without much success.
Brockhouse Engineering bought the rights to the Indian name in 1953 and sold re-badged Royal Enfields for five years starting in 1955. In 1960, the English firm Associated Motor Cycles (AMC) acquired Indian but went broke two years later.
In 1963, Floyd Clymer began bootlegging Italjet minibikes labeled as Indians, as well as British Velocette Singles. Clymer also made efforts to splice Vincent V-Twin engines into Chief chassis but got no further than prototypes.
When Clymer died in 1970, his wife sold Indian’s alleged assets to a lawyer named Alan Newman, who sold minibikes made in Taiwan as Indians starting in late 1971. In 1977, Newman went bankrupt and Indian went dark, largely because the Indian Motorcycle Company was owned by Titeflex Corporation and Indian Sales Corporation was part of Metal Profiles Limited. Clymer’s estate had no clear rights to the Indian name but acted as though it did. Few seemed to care much about the name or intellectual property of an obsolete, defunct brand.
MoCo Turmoil
In case there is a perception that the death of Indian in 1953 meant clear sailing for Harley-Davidson, well, not so much. In the midst of post-war inflation, the meager profits of the diminished production of a modest model lineup (Panhead Big Twins, side-valve K-series, DKW-based 165cc 2-strokes, 45ci Servi-cars and package trucks, and sidecars) left little money to develop or expand.
From 1941, when William H. Davidson took over, to 1969, the MoCo never reached annual civilian sales of even 16,000 machines. It was in a holding pattern that could have easily resulted in a downward death spiral for the last American motorcycle manufacturer.
In the 1950s, the U.S. motorcycle market was minuscule but had plenty of growth potential. The British invasion began in earnest, with Triumph opening its American headquarters in 1950 to proffer its new 650cc parallel-Twins.
In 1952, Harley introduced the Model K, a massive rework of its long-running side-valve 750cc line-up. This new “Forty-Five” was a genuine improvement but is mainly remembered today as the company’s first unit-construction V-Twin, with motor and gearbox sharing the same engine casing.
The sharp Triumph could outrun a Model K, but a boost in displacement to 55ci (900cc) for the K in 1954 held the British hordes at bay long enough for H-D to get the real solution to market in the form of the OHV Sportster in 1957. A back-and-forth rivalry ensued for the next two decades.
The first biker movie, 1953’s The Wild One, had the misunderstood counter-culture good guy Marlon Brando leading the gang on a Triumph Thunderbird. The film’s hardcore baddie, played to the hilt by Lee Marvin, rode a Harley during most of the mischief. It was bad optics for the domestic product. H-D advertising in that period promoted the opposite image but to little avail.
Essentially, the only arena in which H-D had no competition was in Big Twin touring bikes. The MoCo started that ball rolling with the OHV 61 Knucklehead in 1936, which was succeeded in 1948 with the Panhead, a springer-forked, rigid-framed machine. Its engine featured aluminum heads and hydraulic lifters and was available in displacements of 61 and 74ci.
In a unique situation that lasted decades, the MoCo had the only Big Twin touring machine on the market. It had an undeniable and distinct place in history as the only machine of its ilk for a decade. The addition of hydraulic rear suspension in 1958 begat the Duo-Glide.
The Panhead led the MoCo from Springer forks to telescopics, from tank shift to foot shift, from rigid to rear shocks. And in 1965, its last year of production, the Electra Glide became the first Big Twin that did not need to be kick-started. During its 17-year lifespan, the Panhead saw us through from Truman to Johnson, from big-band jazz to the Beatles, from Korea to Vietnam, and through the beginnings of the space race.
The Panhead’s replacement, the Shovelhead, was introduced in 1966, initially with a generator, then upgraded with an alternator in 1970. A new FX model debuted in 1971, and it was the first Big Twin to cross into Sportster territory using that bike’s fork and fenders. The Shovel also became the bellwether for the first 5-speeds and electronic ignitions, as well as the return of belt drives, before it bowed out in 1984.
As Bill Davidson aged, he knew the company would need fresh blood and more money to be secure. American Machine and Foundry (AMF) was looking to expand its recreational product line, and buying H-D in 1969 was the cheapest way to do it. It was a marriage of convenience, and it was especially useful in enabling Harley to fend off the British Twins and position its line of Big Twins and Sportsters to deal with the flood of new Japanese bikes.
AMF provided the financial cushion and resources to ensure that new Harleys could be developed and current ones shrewdly marketed, as motorcycles hit new heights of popularity with Baby Boomers in the 1970s.
Willie G. Davidson, head of design at H-D, became the hip face of the company. New looks and technical details became more commonplace, production increased annually, and it seemed the good times rolled for most of the decade. Following the Shovelhead’s introduction in 1966 were Willie’s Super Glide, Sturgis, Low Rider, and Wide Glide models.
Brand loyalty was a saving grace during the AMF era, when quality control had slipped below acceptable levels. The company pushed hard to get sales numbers up to almost 47,000 units within seven years of the takeover but soft-pedaled after-the-sale concerns – a bad policy for the MoCo when legacy customers kept their machines for many years.
In essence, the AMF sugar daddy had become a taskmaster, especially after William H. retired in 1971. AMF’s investment did not see the expected returns, so when a slump in recreational business hit in the late 1970s, H-D was up for sale.
Soaring Alone
A group of H-D executives decided the company was worth saving and agreed to buy it on June 16, 1981. “The Eagle Soars Alone” was the banner headline, but the backstory was much more down to earth.
Vaughn Beals, the head of the consortium, found himself walking up and down Wall Street in search of a loan until he finally encountered a sympathetic banker who loved the brand – deal done in a minor miracle.
There was a lot of nail-biting going on for the first couple of years after the buyback, including the need for a protective tariff on Japanese competitors who were selling motorcycles here for less than in their other markets. To level the pricing playing field, President Reagan instituted a tariff in 1982 on motorcycles larger than 700cc, which helped Harley recover market share before the tariff was rescinded in 1987.
In the end, three things made it happen for H-D: the Beals group’s determination, a focus on quality and efficient production, and a new engine platform. The Evolution motor, introduced in 1984, changed hearts and minds and proved Harleys didn’t have to leak or break when it powered innovative chassis like the FLT and the FXR.
The Evo (or “Blockhead”) engine in the Softail chassis drove the MoCo’s fortunes into the stratosphere. The Sportster Evo followed in 1986 in displacements of 883cc, 1,100cc, and 1,200cc. From 1984 through 1999, Harley-Davidson sales and prestige truly soared. In 1998 when the Evo’s replacement arrived in the form of the Twin Cam 88, both powerplants were sold side-by-side.
Indian Pettifoggers
Indian’s story was much more obtuse. In 1992, a shyster named Phillip S. Zanghi dubiously claimed he owned the Indian trademark via Clymer. His corporation, Indian Motorcycle Manufacturing Co. Inc., bluffed investors into believing he would build a factory to make motorcycles, but Zanghi only ever marketed clothing until he was convicted on 12 counts of securities fraud, three of tax evasion, and six of money laundering, landing him in prison.
In 1994, Wayne Baughman’s company, Indian Motorcycle Manufacturing Inc. (IMMI), introduced prototypes for what was called the Century Chief. Baughman was an industrious guy who decided he should make the next great American motorcycle. He wanted it to look like an Indian but employ current technology.
Skirting rights to the Indian trademark by claiming they were in the public domain, Baughman’s bikes looked like classic Chiefs and created media hype. He also claimed to be strong competition for Harley-Davidson, promising to manufacture as many as 100,000 Century Chiefs a year. In reality, Baughman’s company was woefully undercapitalized. He tried attracting investors, but the prototypes were crude and the dealer network sketchy, and the whole thing imploded.
Only two Baughman Century Chief prototypes were ever built. One is in perfect condition and was on display in the National Motorcycle Museum until it was auctioned off last September for only $7,150. The other one was in possession of California Motorcycle Company, which was awarded rights to the Indian trademark in 1998, and it now resides in a private collection in Australia.
The fight for the rights to use the Indian name in 1998 also included Eller Industries, but it ended with a restraining order stating Eller had failed to produce a working design in time. The backstory is too tangled to unravel here, mostly because the IMMI rep, Richard Block, turned out to be intractable and paranoid.
In 1993, Eller Industries Inc. purchased part of Indian Motorcycle Manufacturing Inc., but IMMI began to flounder in 1994. Eller petitioned the courts to place IMMI under receivership protection in 1995.
Block, the court-appointed receiver, immediately and unnecessarily sued for trademark infringement when Kawasaki announced the introduction of its Drifter model motorcycle, styled much like a 1950s-era Indian Chief. If Kawasaki prevailed, the trademarks and Indian’s good name would be worthless to Eller.
In addition to these kinds of erratic tactics, Block was making persistent demands for raises of his sky-high salary and more money for more lawsuits. It was getting messy, and Eller reps knew the company had to raise awareness and get public support to neutralize the adversarial receiver. So in September 1998, Eller put out a press release regarding the new Indian’s progress and the addition of the illustrious automotive guru Bob Lutz to the team. Articles appeared in trade pubs and enthusiast mags, as well as artist renderings of three proposed prototypes.
At the same time, Roush Industries (engine designer) and the Cow Creek Indian Tribe in Oregon (manufacturing and finance) made progress. Then the receiver changed the rules to protect his interests, and the judge upheld his move to block the project.
Fractious from the outset, Eller’s attempt was ultimately caught in a labyrinth of legal wrangling. On Dec. 31, 1998, the principles in the deal, the Tribe (the largest Indian trademark licensee), and Eller jointly filed a massive 3-inch thick emergency appeal of the judge’s ruling, but it was denied only days later. Just like that, it was over.
The next attempt at resurrecting Indian was by California Motorcycle Company, but that story must wait for the final installment of Harley-Davidson vs. Indian.
