One Man and His Plan - Part Two: Earl “Madman” Muntz and his Muntz Jet
Part 2 of TAM’s series exploring the audacious failures in the history of the automotive industry is a fun read. Enter the “mad” world of Earl Muntz,..
Earl “Madman” Muntz: The Car Salesman Who Tried to Out-Cadillac Cadillac
If Elon Musk and P.T. Barnum had a child in 1914, and that child grew up with a fondness for convertibles, televisions, and outlandish advertising stunts, you’d get Earl “Madman” Muntz. A larger-than-life pitchman, tinkerer, and self-taught engineer, Muntz is one of those glorious characters in American history whose name should be better known. Not because everything he touched turned to gold—quite the opposite, in fact. He’s remembered because he thought big, crashed hard, and did it all with a grin.
The Origin of the “Madman”
Earl Muntz started out selling used cars in the 1930s and ’40s, where he quickly realized that bland pitches don’t move metal. He slapped on a nickname—“Madman”—and ran loud, outrageous radio and newspaper ads that made him sound like he’d lost his marbles. His slogan was simple: prices so low, he must be insane! Crowds loved it. In an era when car dealers were stiff and serious, Muntz leaned all the way into carnival-barker energy.
He wore outlandish suits. He shouted about bargains. He plastered “Madman Muntz” everywhere. The gimmick worked so well that by the mid-1940s, he was one of America’s best-known car dealers. And then he did something no one expected: he moved from hustling cars on the lot to building one of his own.
Enter the Muntz Jet
The Muntz Jet was born in 1950, a postwar fever dream made of chrome, horsepower, and audacity. Muntz bought the rights to a short-lived sports car called the Kurtis Kraft, stretched it into a four-seater, and gave it the kind of styling that screamed, “Hollywood leading man.” The Jet had sleek lines, a long hood, and was stuffed with luxury touches like leather interiors and even seatbelts—long before Detroit thought they were necessary. There was even a liquor cabinet in the backseat, because it was the 50’s and why not?
The performance? Depending on the V8 under the hood (Cadillac at first, Lincoln later), the Muntz Jet could hit 150 mph. That made it one of the fastest production cars in the world at the time. It was, in essence, America’s first personal luxury sports car, a genre that wouldn’t really take off until Ford birthed the Thunderbird and GM rolled out the Corvette.
But while those corporate giants had entire factories, Muntz had… a rented building, a small crew, and his own checkbook. And that’s where things went sideways.
Why the Jet Never Took Off
Each Muntz Jet cost about $6,500 to build. Muntz sold them for around $5,500. You don’t need an MBA to see the problem. For every Jet sold, Muntz lost money—up to $1,000 a pop. That’s a business model even Tesla might blush at.
Still, the Jet attracted celebrities like Mickey Rooney and Mario Lanza, and it became a status symbol for the Hollywood set. But by 1954, only about 400 Jets had been built, and Muntz pulled the plug before he went completely bankrupt. Today, surviving Jets are prized collectibles, valued as much for their rarity as for the sheer audacity of the man who built them.
Not Just Cars: The Other Madman Inventions
Muntz didn’t stop with cars. His knack for being just ahead of the curve (and sometimes tripping over it) showed up in other industries:
Television: Muntz launched a line of affordable TV sets in the late 1940s, bringing the boob tube to middle-class living rooms before RCA or Zenith could dominate. He was credited with “Muntzing,” a process of simplifying electronics by stripping out non-essential parts to cut costs.
8-Track Precursor: He marketed the “Muntz Stereo-Pak,” a 4-track car stereo system that directly inspired the 8-track cartridge format of the 1960s. For a while, if you wanted to blast Sinatra in your convertible, you probably had Muntz to thank.
Why We Love the Madman
Was Earl “Madman” Muntz a genius? A huckster? A visionary? The answer is yes. He embodied a uniquely American mix of optimism, bravado, and disregard for balance sheets. While his Jet was a commercial flop, it paved the way for the idea that an American sports-luxury car could compete with Europe’s best.
Today, when you see a Muntz Jet, you’re not just looking at a car. You’re looking at the physical embodiment of a man who refused to think small. A man who believed that if you shouted loud enough, believed hard enough, and chrome-plated enough, you could bend the market to your will.
It didn’t quite work. But it sure was fun to watch.
One Man and His Plan - Part One: Gary Davis and the Davis Divan
“One Man and His Plan” - Part One, Gary Davis and the Davis Divan. Jump into the first in a series of articles about past automotive visionaries and their unique contributions to technology, culture, folklore and more.
The Three-Wheeled Dream That Almost Was
The 1948 Davis-Divan. The first “production” Davis, now in the Tucson Auto Museum collection
When you think of revolutionary car companies founded by a single visionary, names like Tucker naturally spring to mind. But history is peppered with lesser-known pioneers whose bold dreams nearly reshaped the automotive world — men who dared to defy convention, engineer the impossible, and race against the clock in post-World War II America’s feverish landscape of innovation.
Enter Gary Davis and his brainchild, the Davis Divan.
Born in 1915, Gary Davis was an engineer and entrepreneur with a flair for the unconventional. After serving in World War II, he returned to civilian life determined to create a vehicle unlike any other: affordable, efficient, and futuristic. His answer was the Davis Divan, a daring three-wheeled car with an eye-catching streamlined aluminum body and a unique seating arrangement for four passengers side-by-side. Most of the Divans were powered by 2,600 cc (160 cu in), inline 4-cylinder Continental engines capable of producing 63 hp (47 kW). Others, including both the D-1 "Baby" and D-2 "Delta" prototypes, as well as the TAM example pictured (which is the third one ever made), were instead fitted with 47 hp (35 kW), four-cylinder Hercules industrial engines.
Davis touted the Divan’s innovative features — including its monocoque aluminum chassis, a fiberglass roof, and a top speed of around 100 mph — as proof that his design was ahead of its time. The car’s striking aerodynamic shape was not just for show; it helped reduce drag and improve fuel efficiency, appealing to the postwar American consumer’s desire for modernity and thrift.
