Holy Toledo!

Back in the 1950s, Steelman Henry J. Kaiser put out a funny little car known as the Henry J. It was a fiasco that is still vividly recalled by Henry J.'s son Edgar, 58, who shudders: "I don't want that to happen again." To make sure that it wouldn't, the Kaisers have since confined their automaking to one of the most durable vehicles ever produced: the limited-appeal Jeep. Now, Kaiser Jeep Corp. is cautiously looking to bigger markets. This month it unveils a jazzy new line that Edgar, as president of the parent Kaiser Industries Corp., hopes will put the Jeep more squarely into the black and out onto the nation's highways.

Up to now, the jouncy, snub-nosed Jeep has been just plugging along. Developed by the old Willys-Overland Corp. for the U.S. War Department in 1940, the general purpose (hence, G.P. and finally Jeep) vehicle endeared itself to G.I.s and Army brass during World War II. "America's greatest contribution to modern warfare," General George C. Marshall grandiloquently called it. After the war, Willys found a still-brisk military demand for the Jeep, but ran into trouble on its passenger line, sold out to Kaiser in 1953.

Still equipped with its four-wheel drive, the Jeep appeals to the outdoors-minded (notable Jeepniks: Lyndon Johnson, Hubert Humphrey and Sargent Shriver), who rig it for such chores as plowing snow or use it for wheeling around a ranch. Recently, however, despite frequent refinements and the introduction of the station wagon and light-truck Jeeps, Kaiser's grip on the domestic market has been weakened by a couple of upstart Jeep-style sports models: International Harvester's Scout and Ford's Bronco. Moreover, the profit margin on sales to the military, still a large chunk of the company's U.S. business, has felt a pinch. As a result, Kaiser Jeep owes its 1965 operating profits of $4.9 million (on sales of $311 million) mostly to its overseas sales.

A Far Cry. With its new line, Jeep is plunging into the expanding sports field against the Scout and the Bronco. Still using the antiquated Willys complex in Toledo, which looks more like a New England woolen mill than an auto plant, Kaiser has spent a modest $5,000,000 to tool up, is launching a quaint promotion campaign--"Holy Toledo, What a Car!"--that gets chuckles from Detroit's more sophisticated Big Three.

The car itself is another matter.

Called the Jeepster, a name appropriated from an early Willys model, it retains the familiar boxy design, but otherwise is a far cry from the vintage Jeep. Roadster, pickup truck and station-wagon versions (price: $2,300 to $4,000) are available, but the series' mainstay is a convertible featuring bucket seats, chrome spinner wheels, continental spare tire, and regular windows instead of isinglass curtains--plus such options as air conditioning, automatic transmission and power brakes.

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