Power windows feel so ordinary today that it is easy to assume they arrived with late twentieth century luxury sedans. In reality, the idea of raising glass with something other than a crank reaches back to the earliest decades of motoring, when engineers were still experimenting with how to move doors, roofs, and windows without human muscle. The first production cars to use powered glass appeared long before most readers were born, and the technology’s path from exotic novelty to everyday feature is stranger and more inventive than it looks from the driver’s seat.
To understand how we got from clunky hydraulic contraptions to the silent switches in a modern hatchback, I need to trace a line from obscure 1920s experiments to the 1940 Packard that set the template for electric side glass, then follow the way power windows spread until manual winders virtually disappeared. Along the way, the story touches on hydroelectric systems, a secretive Chrysler Corporation program, and the safety debates that reshaped how these mechanisms are designed.
From hand cranks to the idea of “automatic” glass
For the first decades of car building, rolling a window up meant exactly that: a metal crank, a cable or gear, and your own arm doing the work. The mechanism was simple, cheap, and reliable, which is why it survived so long even as engines, suspensions, and brakes grew more complex. Yet as cabins became more enclosed and cars gained heavier glass and larger doors, engineers started to see the appeal of letting a powered system handle the weight and friction that made some windows hard to move.
That shift in thinking turned the window from a purely mechanical part into a candidate for automation, alongside starters, wipers, and convertible roofs. Once drivers were used to pushing a button to crank the engine or sweep rain off the windshield, the idea of doing the same for side glass felt less like a gimmick and more like the next logical step in comfort. The seeds of power windows were planted in that broader push to remove physical effort from everyday driving tasks, even before the technology was ready for mass production.
The 1920s experiments that quietly started it all
Long before power windows became a showroom talking point, a handful of luxury models in the 1920s flirted with the concept in surprisingly advanced ways. A small number of cars in that era, including the 1925 Flint Model E-55, used early “automatic windows” that relied on hydraulic force rather than electricity. In these systems, pressurized fluid moved pistons that in turn raised or lowered the glass, borrowing ideas from industrial machinery and even building infrastructure.
The 1925 Flint Model E-55 was not alone, but it was emblematic of how experimental these setups were, with hydroelectricity sometimes powering their operation and the number 55 baked right into the model designation. These cars were rare, expensive, and mechanically complex, which kept them from reshaping the market, yet they proved that powered glass was technically possible decades before it became common. In effect, they served as rolling laboratories, testing whether customers would accept a window that moved at the touch of a control instead of a crank.
Hydraulic ingenuity and the roots of modern comfort
Those early systems were not just curiosities, they were part of a broader wave of hydraulic innovation that tried to make cars feel more like mobile living rooms. A power window is one of several devices that can be controlled by a driver or passenger without direct physical effort, and in the 1920s and 1930s, engineers leaned on hydraulic circuits to move everything from seats to convertible tops. In some designs, hydroelectricity powered their operation, blending electric pumps with fluid lines to translate a small switch movement into a smooth sweep of glass.
Looking back from the age of compact electric motors, the reliance on fluid pressure can seem overcomplicated, but it made sense in an era when high torque electric drives were bulky and expensive. Hydraulics could be routed through doors and pillars with relative ease, and they offered the kind of steady, cushioned motion that luxury buyers expected. These systems laid the conceptual groundwork for the power window as a comfort feature, even if their complexity and cost meant they would never be the final form of the technology.
Packard’s 1940 breakthrough and the first true electric side glass
The turning point came when electric motors finally took over the job of moving the glass, and that leap is widely credited to Packard at the start of the 1940s. The first power windows that used electric motors appeared in 1940 Packard 180 series automobiles, where the side glass could be raised or lowered at the push of a button instead of by hand. In those cars, the motor drove a mechanism that replaced the familiar crank, turning what had been a manual chore into a small act of luxury.
That innovation did not arrive in a vacuum. By the time the 1940 Packard 180 series reached customers, electric starters and lighting were already standard, so adding motorized glass felt like a natural extension of the car’s electrical system. The feature helped cement Packard’s reputation for comfort and engineering sophistication, and it set a template that later automakers would follow, with compact motors tucked inside doors and switches placed where drivers and passengers could reach them easily.
How a secretive Chrysler program pushed the idea forward
While Packard’s 1940 system is often cited as the first widely recognized electric side glass, other manufacturers were exploring similar ideas in parallel, sometimes for reasons that had little to do with comfort. A Chrysler Corporation program in the prewar period reportedly experimented with powered windows as part of a broader effort to control cabin privacy, including scenarios where executives were concerned about an eavesdropping driver. In that context, the ability to raise or lower glass from a central control panel was as much about discretion as convenience.
Those experiments underscored how power windows could serve multiple purposes at once, from luxury to security. The same mechanisms that let a rear passenger close a window without leaning forward also allowed a chauffeur or central switch to manage all the glass in the car. That dual use helped justify the added complexity and cost in high end models, and it foreshadowed the master controls that would later appear on the driver’s door in family sedans and hatchbacks.
Defining what “power window” really means
As the technology matured, the industry settled on a clear definition of what counted as a power window. In modern usage, power windows are electric powered automobile windows that can be opened or closed at the press of a button rather than by turning a crank. The key elements are the electric motor, the switch that sends current to it, and the regulator mechanism that translates rotation into vertical glass movement.
That definition matters because it draws a line between the early hydraulic or hydroelectric experiments and the systems that eventually became standard equipment. A power window in the contemporary sense is part of the car’s electrical architecture, sharing fuses, wiring, and sometimes control modules with locks and mirrors. Once that architecture was in place, it became easier for automakers to add features like one touch up or down, child locks, and even remote operation, all building on the same basic idea of electric control over the glass.
From rare luxury to everyday expectation
For decades after Packard’s breakthrough, power windows remained a marker of status, bundled with air conditioning and premium trim on the options list. Over time, however, economies of scale and improvements in motor and switch design drove costs down, and buyers began to expect powered glass even in modestly priced cars. Earlier in the twenty first century, it became common for compact sedans and small crossovers to ship with power windows on every door, while manual cranks retreated to the very lowest priced models.
That shift has now gone so far that modern cars have completely replaced manual crank handle mechanisms in many markets, turning the once novel feature into a baseline assumption. When I climb into a new hatchback or SUV today, I do not check the brochure to see whether the windows are powered, I simply reach for the switch. The journey from rare option to default equipment is a reminder of how quickly comfort technologies can move once the underlying components become cheap and reliable enough to spread across an entire lineup.
How power windows actually work in today’s cars
Behind the door panel, the basic layout of a contemporary power window is deceptively simple. A small electric motor, usually mounted to a regulator assembly, turns a gear or pulls a cable that lifts or lowers the glass along its tracks. When a driver or passenger presses the switch, it completes an electrical circuit that sends current to the motor in one direction to raise the window or reverses polarity to lower it, with relays or control modules managing the flow.
In many vehicles, especially newer ones, that process is overseen by a body control unit that can add features like one touch operation or automatic reversal if the glass meets resistance. The hardware is compact enough to fit inside even thin doors, and it is robust enough to cycle thousands of times over the life of the car. What began as a bulky hydraulic experiment in the 1920s has become a tightly integrated electrical subsystem that most drivers never think about until a switch or motor fails.
Safety lessons and the evolution of window controls
As power windows spread, safety concerns followed, particularly around the risk of injury if a window closed on a hand, arm, or neck. Early systems often relied on simple switches that would keep the motor running as long as they were held, with no automatic reversal if the glass met an obstruction. Over time, regulators and lawmakers pushed for designs that could detect pinch situations and stop or reverse the window, especially when one touch up functions were involved.
Modern designs typically incorporate pinch protection, time limited operation, and child lockouts that prevent rear passengers from operating their own switches. Those features reflect a hard learned understanding that any powered mechanism inside a family car must be designed to fail safely. The same electric control that makes it easy to close all four windows at once also makes it possible to program safeguards, turning a potential hazard into a managed risk.
Why the first power window car still feels surprisingly modern
When I look back at the 1940 Packard 180 series and the 1925 Flint Model E-55, what strikes me is how familiar their ambitions feel. The engineers behind those cars were chasing the same goals that shape today’s interiors: less effort, more comfort, and a cabin that feels insulated from the outside world. In the same way, before the first widely recognized electric systems arrived, earlier hydroelectric setups were already trying to deliver that sense of ease, even if the hardware was crude by current standards.
That continuity is why the first car with power windows is older than most people assume, yet not as alien as it might sound. The idea that a passenger should be able to tap a control and have the glass glide into place is as compelling now as it was when Packard and Chrysler Corporation were experimenting with motors and hydraulics. The details have changed, but the underlying desire for effortless control over the cabin environment has remained constant, carrying power windows from obscure luxury to an invisible part of everyday driving.
How enthusiasts rediscovered the early power window pioneers
For years, the story of who really built the first power window car was mostly of interest to marque historians and restoration experts. That changed as online communities began to dig into factory literature, service manuals, and period advertising, piecing together a more nuanced timeline that stretches from the Flint Model E-55 to the 1940 Packard 180 and beyond. Enthusiasts highlighted how some of these systems used hydroelectricity and how others relied on compact motors, showing that the evolution was more of a continuum than a single eureka moment.
One detailed look at the topic framed the early Packard setup as part of a broader pattern in which vintage automobiles tested technologies that later became mainstream, from automatic transmissions to powered seats and windows. In that telling, the first power window car is not an isolated curiosity but a case study in how luxury features trickle down over decades. The narrative helps explain why a feature that once required complex hydraulics and bespoke engineering is now taken for granted in everything from budget hatchbacks to full size pickups.
More from MorningOverview