Special thanks to Harold Burroughs (writer) and Hung Vu from Vintage Dashes!

How to Install your new Vintage Dash:

-Take out dash (fasteners which need to be removed are circled in red – please inspect pictures closely).


-Remove 3 center gauges (a strap and 1 screw hold them in, so you can pull these 3 from the rear).

-Remove Speedometer and Tachometer (one screw holds the strap in the back, so you can pull these two forward out of the dash).

-Disconnect and remove the dimmer switch.

-Remove the glove box ( 4 screws under and 6 screws on the face).

-Remove HVAC hoses and two side vents on outer dash (two screws top and bottom).

-Take out 22 screws that hold the dash to shell, keeping in mind that some are hidden on sides and behind the wire harness.

-Remove the cigarette lighter by unscrewing the big nut on back and also removing the power wires (this sandwiches the lighter assembly between the shell and dash)

-Get your new dash and compare to old dash where the screws bind it to the shell. Remove excess material around screw holes (you can drill two holes for dimmer and trip reset at this time).

-Dry fit dash to shell and ensure nothing is binding up.

-Once all holes line up reasonably screw dash to shell.

-Reverse order install of all gauges and components (it is necessary to cut out the cigarette lighter area – Use a sharp knife or razor).



-Punch two holes for the emblem and install.

The whole process took me 2 hours and for my first time I was very careful and didn’t know what to expect. The whole process was very straight forward and Hung Vu is a huge resource.

If you’d like to place an order for a replacement dash (an absolute bargain at $800) for your classic Z, please contact Hung via his Facebook page: Hung Vu

Thanks, and I hope this helps you install your new Vintage Dash!

Some of you may remember Randy Lewis from his ‘Coast to Coast Road Trip in a Datsun 510‘ article.

He’s been up to something new. As a Datsun Scarab owner, during the course of his restoration of Scarab #160, he’s become somewhat of a historian on these rare and amazing cars. He’s written a book, which will be available by mid-June 2019. He’s also working on a Scarab documentary video and have started fundraising on Kickstarter.

The speaker in the promo is the daughter of Keith Bergey, the Chief Engineer at Scarab back in the day. Check it out!

Restored: The Scarab Z Story

As many of you know, aside from running DatsunForum, we own several classic Datsuns, and collect memorabilia and neat stuff related to Datsun / Nissan vehicles. All those cars require insurance coverage, and since our first classic, we’ve entrusted our cars to the pros at Hagerty.

Sure, there are other companies that offer antique auto insurance… but it’s a sideline. They’re not enthusiasts, and they don’t understand the unique needs of collectors, restorers, and other enthusiasts like the expert team at Hagerty.

One of the really cool benefits of being a Hagerty customer is having access to an entire department of historians, appraisers, researchers, and valuation experts: “The Hagerty Institute for Collector Vehicles.”

During a discussion this week with their Historian, Glenn Arlt, he shared a story that I’d only ever heard bits and pieces of, and I think you’ll really enjoy it. I’ll let Glenn take it from here:
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Did you know the story about Studebaker and Nissan? I wouldn’t be surprised if this is new information to you, since in fact most Studebaker guys don’t even know it.

After the closure (in late December 1963) of their main factory in South Bend, Studebaker concentrated production at their Hamilton, Ontario production plant (except for engines which came from South Bend until July 1964. Thereafter, and until April 1966, Chevrolet-pattern GM-Canada engines were bought and used). March 1966 was the end of Studebaker car production – The last one built was a 1966 Cruiser.

During Studebaker’s later years, Studebaker executives in the US were mostly tending to their diversified holdings (such as Onan engine, STP, Franklin and Schaefer appliances, Gravely tractor, Paxton products, Clarke floor machines, Studegrip, etc). The Studebaker executive team ordered Studebaker of Canada’s President, Gordon Grundy, to go to Japan in 1965.

As a quick side note: In August of 1965, a deal to sell Studebaker automotive operations to a Canadian consortium failed. Canadian Motor Industries (CMI) had already concluded a tentative deal with Isuzu – which was then independent of GM – to sell subcompact Isuzu Bellett cars AS STUDEBAKERS in order to add vehicles to their scant lineup in North America. CMI did assemble Isuzu and Toyota cars for sale in Canada from 1967 through 1970, sold as Isuzu and Toyota brands through two new dealer networks. CMI’s purchase of Studebaker’s automotive operations for a measly $7 million Canadian dollars failed because one Canadian politician in Nova Scotia refused to sign off on Canadian government loan guarantees, fearing the failure of Studebaker might drag CMI down as well. This was ironic, since CMI was BASED in Nova Scotia and had actually set up an assembly plant in Sydney, N.S. in 1967, bringing jobs to the Province. Sydney is a deep, warm water port, perfect for bringing Japanese car parts (referred to as CKD: complete knock down kits) to assemble as “Canadian cars.” Alas, the failed deal was the “kill shot” for Studebaker, and in March 1966, the last Studebaker rolled off the production line, followed by layoffs of 700 workers. The Hamilton plant was bought by OTIS Elevator, used for 20 years, and later demolished in 2012.

But back to our story. Gordon Grundy was sent to Japan to try to broker a deal with Nissan. They wanted him to obtain cars for Studebaker dealers in Canada and the US. Presumably, the thinking was to not directly compete with Datsun dealers. Due to the presumed need to replace the archaic 1953-era Studebaker cars (which were facelifted for the last time for the 1964 model year), it’s pretty safe to assume they would have been targeting the new Cedric 130 cars (released in October 1965) to replace the aging Lark. Of course, there’s the possibility they might have targeted the President (also released in October 1965), but it was a $3300 car – likely too expensive for Studebaker to try to sell… or maybe not? Perhaps just perhaps, the President could have eventually replaced the ancient larger Studebaker cars too, on a limited basis. The President line was powered by a 183 cubic inch 6-cylinder or a 243 cubic inch V8, after all. The Hamilton-built Studebakers were not selling very well, essentially being antiques under the skin. In contrast, the Nissan cars were far more modern.

Here’s where the story gets really interesting, though: The only company that Studebaker had interest in buying cars from was Nissan… at least until Grundy was in Japan. All was going well with Nissan… then the Studebaker board apparently vacillated, possibly having heard about the upcoming new Toyota Century, because they had their attorney call Grundy at his hotel in Japan, and order him to not just visit Nissan, but Toyota also. The trouble was, Toyota, having informers at Nissan, were offended that they were not approached first, and being considered ‘second fiddle,’ they refused to speak with Grundy. Returning to Nissan would prove fruitless as well – Nissan had informers at Toyota, and when they heard that Grundy had also visited Toyota, they were deeply insulted and broke off negotiations due to “loss of face.” The end result? Grundy went home empty handed, with no all-new imported cars to sell as Studebakers, in a last-ditch attempt to keep the dealership organization solvent.

The lawyer, who was employed by Studebaker, who told Grundy to also approach Toyota? Richard Milhaus Nixon.
So, as Paul Harvey used to say, “Now you know the rest of the story.”

What blows my mind is to consider the following possibility: What if Grundy had been out having some sushi or getting a massage from a beautiful Japanese girl when Nixon called? What if he had wrapped up the deal with Nissan to sell Studebaker Corporation cars with Studebaker badges on them, for US and Canadian, Australian, New Zealand, Israeli etc. distribution (where Studebaker was having some success). The board couldn’t have censured him since he was following his instructions to the letter. Of course, he probably knew that had he done the deal, the Hamilton car plant would close and 700 jobs would be lost (which happened in April 1966 anyway). He probably saw the handwriting on the wall… Perhaps Hamilton could have been the parts depot for the new cars, saving 50 to 100 jobs? We’ll never know.

Carrying it even further, what if they’d acquired the President lineup, badged as Studebaker’s high-end luxury division? Perhaps Infiniti would not have been necessary; instead, Studebaker might have survived!

Would Studebaker dealers have been encouraged to duel with Datsun franchises in the Midwest, where Datsun was weakest during that era? If so, would this have helped Datsun to stay ahead of Toyota in the US as it had been until 1967?

Eventually, would it have enabled Nissan such additional success so as to not need Renault?

Enquiring automotive historians would love to know!
Glenn Arlt, Hagerty Concierge and Historian

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Postscript: There’s actually one more somewhat obscure Studebaker – Nissan connection, and this one comes from my own knowledge bank…

As those who know me well are aware, my all-time dream car is a 1965 Silvia Coupe (CSP311). I find it to be one of the most beautiful automotive designs ever, and that should come as no surprise to students of automotive design. You see, German designer Count Albrecht Graf Goertz served as a development consultant to Nissan from 1963 to 1965. During that time, he was supposed to help develop the 2000GT, which was to be a Yamaha-powered sports car. That project was 86’ed, but along the way, he contributed to modernizing the overall design process (convincing Nissan’s designers to utilize full-scale clay mockups). His contributions were reflected, ultimately, in the eventual design of the CSP311 in 1964.

So, what’s the connection? Well, Count Goertz was educated as an engineer in Germany. In the 1950’s, he traveled to the United States, where he worked for Studebaker on the design of the Studebaker Starliner. Obviously, neither project were his greatest achievements – Goertz is credited with participating in the design of the spectacularly-beautiful BMW 507 convertible, and more importantly, the Porsche 911 Turbo.

So, there you have it! A second Studebaker – Nissan connection. OK, nowhere near as intriguing as Glenn’s connection, but it’s a neat one!

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this little diversion into automotive history. I’d like to thank Glenn Arlt and the team at Hagerty for their contributions and continued support of our Datsun addiction!

The “clublife” newsletter is published for the Japanese market on a quarterly basis by Nissan – I guess you could call it the JDM equivalent of NICOclub, but in printed form!

Anyhow, we periodically receive copies of clublife from our Japanese contacts, and as time permits, I’ll scan a copy for you guys to enjoy.

In this issue, there’s a great feature article on a beautifully restored Datsun Type 17, as well as lots of local club event coverage – Check out some of the pics of the great classic Datsuns!

I hope you enjoy the scans (click for larger images):

Straight from the DatsunForum vault, here’s a nice scan of the 1976 Datsun full-line brochure, exactly like you might have found in a Datsun dealer in late 1975.

Imagine walking into a showroom in September 1975, seeing a sleek zero-mile 1976 280Z in bright red with a gorgeous black vinyl interior, sitting next to a new Lil’ Hustler 620 pickup – and over there in the corner is a new 610 Coupe with the optional rocker panel decals. Turn around and admire the funky but sporty B-210 in bright yellow, and try not to ignore the dark green 710 wagon, just waiting to become some family’s faithful new transportation.

Here’s hoping these images help you with your Datsun restoration, or just take you on a trip back into the history of Datsun motoring. (click images for full-size pics)

Another awesome old document from the DatsunForum archives, scanned here for your enjoyment! (click thumbnails for larger images)

The origin of the Datsun name and the Nissan Motor Company can be traced back to 1911, when Masujuro Hashimoto founded the Kwaishinsha Motor Car Works. What appears to have been his first car, a small 10-horsepower passenger automobile, was exhibited in 1914 and received an award. Hashimoto’s backers were three businessmen named Den, Aoyama, and Takeuchi, and the car took its name from their initials: DAT.

This company ran into financial trouble and was reorganized in 1918 as the Kwaishinsha Company, Ltd., which produced a small, sports-type two-seater that became the “son of DAT,” or Datson. However, the English letter combination S-O-N as pronounced in Japanese sounds like an expression for losing money, and it seems to have been important to have a name for the car that could be spelled in English. At any rate the difficulty was resolved by changing “son” to “sun,” which has a good connotation in both English and Japanese.

Production remained very limited, and after the disastrous earthquake of 1923, which destroyed many of Japan’s automobile factories, the DAT firm found it necessary to merge with the Jitsuyo Jidosha Seizo (Practical Automobile Manufacturing) Company as the DAT Jidosha Seizo Company, Ltd. The merger was effective in 1926. The combined company was still small, but in 1932 it introduced a new Datsun line, a small car with a 500cc engine, which marked the beginning of regular, continuous production of motor vehicles carrying the Datsun name.

In 1933, the DAT Jidosha Seizo Company underwent a reorganization and a year after that was renamed Nissan Motor Company, Ltd. (Japan Industries), with a capital of 10 million yen. Between then and 1938, when passenger car production stopped, Nissan made its first standard-size automobiles, introduced mass-production techniques, and shipped out its first few exports.

The “clublife” newsletter is published for the Japanese market on a quarterly basis by Nissan – I guess you could call it the JDM equivalent of NICOclub, but in printed form!

Anyhow, we periodically receive copies of clublife from our Japanese contacts, and I figured I’d share a copy with the members.

There’s a historical timeline, highlighting some notable points in Nissan’s history, some great pics from the Japan Automobile Museum, as well as some event photos from various gatherings around the islands.

I hope you enjoy the scans (click for larger images):

In 1960, Nissan banished a rebellious executive to California. Once in the driver’s seat, Yutaka Katayama took off like nobody’s business.

by David Halberstam, as appeared in ESQUIRE Magazine, October 1986

[This article was adapted from The Reckoning, by William Morrow]

Yutaka Katayama was sent to America in 1960 to handle Nissan’s first exports to that distant and pervasively rich land, not because he was a rising star but because he was in disgrace in Tokyo, and this assignment was a form of exile. What better place for a Japanese auto executive in disgrace than the world’s greatest center of automobile manufacturing, where success was dubious and failure highly likely?

Katayama was a conservative man of upper-class origins, and his privileged childhood had made him somewhat different from other Japanese. For one thing, it had given him a desire for a higher level of independence. For another, it had made him an absolute car nut. His father had owned two very sporty cars, and it was Katayama’s love of cars that brought him to work at Nissan: it was about cars, and he was about cars, and he not only wanted to drive them, he wanted to build them.

At one point, frustrated with the politics of Nissan, he had even designed his own car, an ultralight auto for a country where gas was extremely expensive. The Flying Feather, it was called, and he and a friend put it together in the second story of a Tokyo building – but couldn’t get it out for a trial run. In a nation filled with laws and restrictions and inhibitions, racing around in a sports car was to Katayama the highest form of freedom.

By the late Fifties, he had fallen into disgrace with his superiors because of his opposition to the company’s new, powerful, management-propelled union. Katayama, a man of the old order, was essentially anti-union. In his perfect world, managers would deal with workers in an honorable Japanese manner that reflected well on both labor and management and that accorded both sides dignity. In a slightly less perfect world where there had to be unions, management would make the decisions, and labor would go through the motions of pretending that it had fought valiantly to improve things. That kind of relationship he could understand. Labor as an extension of management was something he could not. In the early Fifties, when Nissan had been under assault from a leftist union, Katayama had opposed the leftists. That had not bothered his superiors. But his crucial mistake was to oppose the new management-sponsored union, which had crushed the leftist one. That had sealed his fate.

His friends warned him to keep his mouth shut, but he never listened. When almost everyone else in middle management was joining the union, Katayama stood on the sidelines. In 1958, desperate to get away from the company’s politics, Katayama led a triumphant team of Nissan drivers through an arduous auto rally in Australia. He returned a national hero – only to find that his job had been given away to a union member. Two years later, when management asked him to check out Nissan’s prospects in California, he jumped at the chance. The decision to try exporting had been partially inspired by his success in Australia, and though he knew he was being banished, he was delighted nonetheless.

As a student Katayama had been sent to America by his father to expand his horizons, and he had loved it. Now. as a grown man living in Los Angeles, he was struck again by the sense of freedom. Americans believed they could do whatever they wanted, the way they wanted, when they wanted. The lack of formality, symbolized by the absence of blue suits, cheered him. In Japan, if you were to transact serious commerce, you wore a blue suit. If you were not entitled to wear a blue suit, you wore a laborer’s work clothes. But in America there was no telling what a man did by looking at his clothes.

In addition, and most miraculously, it did not seem to matter that he was Japanese: what mattered to the Americans was what he was selling and what the terms were: Was it a good deal? An American trying to do business in Japan, he was sure, would never have found as many doors open as Katayama was finding open to him. Yutaka Katayama, to his amazement, found himself more at home in California than he had been in Tokyo. Soon the American job became a permanent one. No one else seemed eager to go to America, that alien, often terrifying place, so he was placed in charge of Nissan’s operations in the western United States. He sent for his family. What was supposed to have been a brief tour lasted seventeen years.

Next – The challenges of the early years: How Datsun Discovered America, Part 2

By late 1975, Datsun had nearly 1,000 registered dealerships in 49 of the United States. Datsun was selling cars in record numbers, due in no small part to the fuel crisis. This was the year Datsun (and Toyota) passed Volkswagen as the leading import car in US sales.

This brochure is from our private collection, and documents the name (and location) of each of the Datsun dealerships in the US in 1975-76.

Click images for larger size.