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Although Lincoln's earliest cars were dismissed as homely, in the decades to come, it would spawn some of the most respected and memorable designs in the automotive industry. This week, we take a look at one of Lincoln's finest stylistic achievements, the elegant and understated Continental.
EDSEL'S CONTINENTAL
When Henry Martyn Leland first conceived the Lincoln automobile in 1919, he declared that his goal was to build the world's finest motor car. Astute readers will note that he said nothing about building a beautiful car. While the engineering and workmanship of the early Lincoln left little to be desired, its lackluster styling contributed to mediocre sales, and the company's descent into receivership in 1921.
By the late 1930s, with the Leland-engineered Model L gone and the subsequent Model K fading away, the situation had been reversed. Hobbled by Henry Ford's penury and eccentricity, Lincolns now lagged the industry in many areas of engineering. The popular Zephyr line had relatively advanced semi-unitary construction, but it was saddled with a beam-axle front suspension, inadequate brakes, and a troublesome flathead V12 engine whose dismal reputation would have made Henry Leland contemplate ritual suicide. On the other hand, thanks to the taste and refinement of Lincoln president Edsel Ford, Lincolns had exceptional styling -- even stealing a match on GM's Harley Earl with advanced features like integrated headlamps.
Edsel's finest aesthetic achievement was the Continental. Styled by E.T. (Bob) Gregorie, it was essentially a tastefully customized 1939 Zephyr created for the personal use of Edsel and his wife. Although intended as a one-off, it soon attracted the attention of Edsel's well-heeled friends, who inquired how they could get one of their own. The Continental was introduced as a production model in 1940. Sold in very limited numbers, it was nonetheless widely admired, with fans that included noted architect Frank Lloyd Wright. A heavy-handed facelift spoiled the looks in 1942, but the Continental survived until 1948, and it is one of the only postwar cars to be acclaimed a true Classic by the deeply snobbish Classic Car Club of America.
The original Continental was a convertible, although the production version was available either as a club coupe or cabriolet. The former was the better seller, although that meant only 350 units in 1940 and an additional 850 for 1941. High prices were the major reason for slow sales -- the coupe cost $2,812, nearly 30% more than a Cadillac Sixty Special. Although it had a V12 engine, a rarity for an American car, the 292 cu. in. (4.8 L) engine was troublesome, and it had 30 fewer horsepower than Cadillac's V8. (Photo © 2008 Imperturbe, used by permission; click here for the original)
Edsel died in 1943, and two years later, his son, Henry Ford II, assumed control of Ford Motor Company, which was by then in very dire straits. Limited resources and organizational chaos led to odd-looking, half-hearted late-forties Lincolns that excelled neither mechanically nor stylistically.
THE CONTINENTAL MARK II
In 1955, Ford decided to revive the Continental, this time transforming it into its own separate marque, distinct from Lincoln. The result was the 1956-57 Continental Mark II, a low-slung, two-door hardtop coupe with a finely detailed interior. It was widely considered a stylistic triumph, hailed as a welcome break from the typical ostentation of the period. Except for its rather contrived decklid hump (an homage to the original Continental's exposed spare wheel), the Mark II was understated and elegant. Its engineering was again very conventional, but it was a monument to refined taste that Edsel Ford would likely have approved.
Alas, the Mark II's critical adulation did not translate into sales success. Sales for the two years totaled less than 1,800, and Ford lost about $1,000 on each one. The Mark II was discontinued after only two models years, and its successor, the 1958 Continental Mark III, was little more than a lavishly trimmed, generally over-decorated version of the standard Lincoln. The Continental division, which had never really gotten off the ground, was shuttered in July 1956 and rolled into Lincoln-Mercury division.
Despite an impressive roster of celebrity clientele, ranging from Frank Sinatra to the Shah of Iran, sales of the 1956 Continental Mark II were only 1,325, dropping to a grim 444 for 1957. Towering prices did not help; at around $10,000, the Mark II was more than twice as expensive as the Lincoln Premiere, itself far from cheap in those days.
Lincoln itself nearly went the same way. Its 1950s sales had never been terribly impressive, and its 1958 models were an expensive flop. Lincoln's losses for 1958-60 ultimately totaled around $60 million, which did not include the losses of the Continental division, or of Edsel, which was rolled into a new Mercury-Edsel-Lincoln division in January 1958. By the summer of that year, corporate vice president Robert McNamara was ready to axe the division entirely.
THE FASHION CONSCIOUSNESS OF ROBERT MCNAMARA
Automotive historians love to repeat the conventional wisdom that Robert McNamara was oblivious to styling, and thought all cars should be boxy and utilitarian, like the compact Ford Falcon. That characterization, promulgated by Lee Iacocca, is not really supported by the recollections of Ford stylists of the era, including Bill Boyer, John Najjar, and Gene Bordinat. It's certainly true that McNamara did not have a sophisticated understanding of automotive design; Najjar recalled years later that the designers often had to educate McNamara on the technical aspects of their craft. McNamara also had a distaste for unprofitable, limited-production halo cars like the Continental Mark II or the original, two-seat Thunderbird. Nevertheless, former senior stylist Elwood Engel told author Michael Lamm that McNamara was surprisingly style conscious, and some of the products he championed proved to be highly influential stylistic milestones. In fact, McNamara's style-consciousness helped to save Lincoln from the chopping block.
Earlier in the year, Elwood Engel, the head of Ford's advanced design studio -- a narrow basement room that stylist Colin Neale dubbed "the stiletto studio" -- had been working on an alternative concept for the 1961 Ford Thunderbird. Thunderbird styling was ordinarily the purview of chief Ford division stylist Joe Oros, but at the time, a ferocious debate was taking place over the T-Bird's future styling direction. Oros and Engel's boss, styling VP George Walker, favored a more upscale, luxurious theme, but Ford general manager Jim Wright wanted a sportier look, hearkening back to the early "Little Bird." Walker ordered Oros to work on the sporty T-Bird Wright had asked for, but he also authorized Engel to develop a more formal version, in hopes that Wright might be convinced to change his mind. When models of both concepts were presented to the product planning committee in July 1958, Oros' sporty design got the nod, but almost everyone was impressed by Engel's version, which some execs thought too nice to be a Ford.
For some reason, McNamara missed that meeting, but a week or so later, he visited Engel's studio and saw the full-size clay for the rejected Thunderbird proposal. McNamara was very impressed, and wondered aloud what it would look like as a Continental. He asked Engel how long he would need to modify the design for the "package" of the next Lincoln. (In fact, the design for the 1961 Lincoln had already been approved, weeks earlier, but since McNamara was seriously considering shutting down the entire division, he was clearly no fan of the previously approved design.) McNamara told Lincoln general manager Ben Mills that if Engel's concept could be transformed into a satisfactory four-door sedan, he would spare Lincoln for at least one more product cycle.
FROM THUNDERBIRD TO CONTINENTAL
Engel's original design had been a two-door hardtop coupe, about the same size as the '61 Thunderbird: 205 inches (5,207 mm) long on a 113-inch (2,870-mm) wheelbase, about 76 inches (1,930 mm) wide. To make it a four-door Lincoln, Engel's designers stretched its wheelbase by 10 inches (254 mm) and widened it by 2.7 inches (69 mm). Despite the greater length, the design's close-coupled proportions made rear-seat access a problem. Executive engineer Harold Johnson discovered that with conventional rear doors, it would be difficult for passengers to climb in and out of the back seat. To rectify that problem, Johnson proposed hinging the back doors at the rear, an unusual feature for a postwar car, and another mark of stylistic distinction.
All this work required weeks of frantic overtime for Engel's designers, working day and night even on the weekends. Overworked as they were, the stylists knew that the future of the division -- and hence their ongoing employment -- was on the line.
Fortunately, their efforts were not in vain. McNamara liked the resulting design, and ordered it moved to the regular Lincoln-Mercury studio to be readied for production.
Although the Lincoln is significantly bigger than a contemporary Thunderbird, they share some structural commonality. Both used unitary construction, and both were built on the same Wixom, Michigan assembly line, the only Ford plant equipped to build large unibody cars.
The new design was considerably smaller than the 1958-1960 Lincolns, which both McNamara and Ben Mills had felt were much too big. Although still enormous by today's standards, the new design was 16.6 inches (422 mm) shorter than its colossal 1960 predecessor, 1.5 inches (38 mm) narrower, and 3.4 inches (86 mm) lower. It was also about 325 pounds (147 kg) lighter, although it still tipped the scales at over 5,000 pounds (2,270 kg). Thanks to a lowered driveshaft and some conscientious packaging, it sacrificed no headroom or legroom, but trunk space was trimmed noticeably.
The 1958-60 Lincolns had been offered in a full assortment of body styles, but the '61 was available only as a four-door sedan or convertible. Factory-built four-door convertibles were very rare, but this unusual choice reduced costs by ensuring maximum commonality between the convertible and the sedan. In hindsight, not offering the popular two-door hardtop body style was probably a mistake; hardtop coupes accounted for around 20% of Cadillac sales at that time. Lincoln's designers and engineers knew that the division was hanging by a thread, however, and they were wary of anything that would increase tooling or production costs.
This is a 1963 model, identifiable only by slight changes in the grille and headlights. Like the 1961-62 Continental, the '63 has Ford's big 430 cu. in. (7.0 L) M-E-L engine, but for 1963, the original two-barrel carburetor was replaced with a four-barrel, raising advertised horsepower from 300 to 320 (224 kW to 239 kW). The Continental was not a fast car; 0-60 mph (0-97 kph) took a bit over 11 seconds, and top speed was around 115 mph (185 kph). Given its huge engine and ponderous weight, gas mileage was not as awful as it might have been: around 11 mpg (21 L/100 km) in city traffic, perhaps 14 mpg (17 L/100 km) on the open road.
McNamara insisted that the new Lincoln be profitable, but he also wanted it to be reliable, which had been a sore point for Lincolns of the late fifties. Many small details of the '61s were designed to improve quality and corrosion resistance. All cars were given an extensive dynamometer run-in and a 12-mile (19.3-km) road test prior to delivery, so that they were essentially already broken in by the time they reached the dealer. To back up these measures, McNamara instituted a two-year, 24,000-mile (38,640 km) warranty, longer than any domestic car of the time.
All 1961 Lincolns were Continentals; the previous Capri and Premiere series were dropped. Prices were ambitious -- the sedan started at $6,067, $569 more than a Cadillac Sedan de Ville and $423 more than a four-door Imperial Crown Southampton. With air conditioning and other extras, the sticker price rose to around $7,000, enough to buy two well-equipped Ford Galaxies.
All 1961-1965 Continentals had four doors, with rear-hinged, "suicide" rear doors. On 1961-63 cars, with their curved side glass, the rear windows automatically lower a bit when the doors are opened, so the glass will clear the roof molding. Engel's designers originally hoped to make the sedan a true pillarless hardtop, latching the doors to the floorpan and each other, but cost considerations quickly ruled out that idea, so the sedan retained narrow B-posts.
CRITIC'S DARLING
As with the Mark II, the new Continental won great acclaim from critics, who appreciated its tidier dimensions, clean styling, and obvious attention to detail. It won Car Life's 1961 Engineering Excellence Award, and it was awarded a bronze medal by the Industrial Design Institute, which rarely recognized automotive designs.
Again like the Mark II, this adulation was not reflected in sales, which were up only fractionally: 25,164, compared to 24,820 for 1960. Admittedly, 1961 was not a good year for the industry in general, but Lincoln management was disappointed that the new car didn't do better. Had McNamara still been at Ford when the 1961 sales were tallied, Lincoln might not have survived, but by then, McNamara had moved on to Washington to accept an appointment as Secretary of Defense.
Sales of the nearly identical 1962 and 1963 models were slightly better, although Cadillac still outsold Lincoln by around five to one. Still, Lincoln was once again profitable, albeit marginally, and its survival was no longer in question.
Note the gap between the sides of the greenhouse and the fender line, intended to create a cozy, "nested" effect. From this angle, the radical tumblehome -- inward curvature above the beltline -- of the Continental's greenhouse is readily apparent. This feature was highly influential, and by the late sixties, most American cars had similarly extreme tumblehome.
Low sales and the high tooling costs of the Continental's unit body encouraged Lincoln to retain the same basic body until 1969. There were relatively few mechanical changes, but the purity of the original styling was gradually diluted by years of annual facelifts. For cost reasons, the curved side glass was eliminated in 1964, much to the horror of the original designers, who insisted that flat glass ruined the integrity of the design. After 1966, the Continental also got a rather contrived power bulge hood and an exaggerated rear-fender kick-up, reminiscent of GM's big cars. By the end of the decade, the Continental was beginning to look flabby and a little vulgar, but sales improved steadily, aided by the belated addition of a hardtop coupe in 1966.
The Continental convertible, offered through 1967, was the only factory-built four-door convertible available in America after the war, which may have been why it was frequently chosen for parade duty. U.S. President John F. Kennedy died in the back seat of a midnight blue 1961 Lincoln Continental convertible, customized by Hess & Eisenhart.
The top mechanism of the Continental convertible, like that of the contemporary Thunderbird ragtop, owes a great deal to the Skyliner retractable hardtop of 1958-1960. The rear decklid hinges at the rear, swinging up to expose the top. Its operation is impressive to watch, and it provides a clean top-down appearance, but there's essentially no luggage space with the top down. The top mechanism and chassis reinforcements -- including a 50-lb (23 kg) damping weight at each corner -- also make the convertible about 300 pounds (136 kg) heavier than the sedan.
CONTINENTAL REDUX: THE 1964 IMPERIAL
The Continental produced at least one bald-faced imitator -- Chrysler's 1964 Imperial. The similarity was no coincidence, because the '64 Imperial was also styled by Elwood Engel. When George Walker retired in 1961, Engel was the leading candidate to succeed him as Ford's VP of styling. Then Ford discovered that Engel had been playing fast and loose with his expense account, double-billing some expenses and charging the company for personal items like shoes. Undaunted, Walker brought Engel to the attention of Chrysler president Lynn Townsend. When Townsend fired Virgil Exner in the wake of the 1962 Dodge and Plymouth disaster, he hired Engel as his replacement. (It's unclear if Townsend ever understood why Engel had been passed over at Ford, but Engel's Chrysler career was relatively free of scandal.) The 1964 models were the first Chrysler products designed wholly under Engel's leadership, and he had no compunctions about plagiarizing his own well-regarded design.
In some respects, the '64 Imperial hearkened back even more to the Continental Mark II than the Continental did; it featured a Mark II-style bulge in the decklid. Although the sixties Continentals did not have this feature, it would return to Lincoln with the 1969 Mark III, and become a stylistic trademark until well into the 1990s.
Styling is naturally a very subjective matter, but it seems fair to say that the original Continental, the Mark II, and the early-sixties Continental were sophisticated designs that appealed more to cognoscenti than to the general public. All were clean, elegant, and well proportioned, which appealed strongly to designers, but they perhaps too anodyne for the hoi polloi. By comparison, the contemporary Thunderbird's array of visual gimmicks trod perilously close to Camp, but buyers couldn't get enough of it. It was not until Lee Iacocca introduced the 1969 Continental Mark III, a thoroughly tacky, overgrown T-Bird with an ersatz Rolls-Royce grille, that the Continental brand seem to hit the market where it lived.
For the record, your author has never been particularly impressed with the looks of either the original Continental (which we find less appealing than the Zephyr on which it was based) or its 1960s descendant, but we do generally approve of the Mark II. However, your author's mother, who generally regards automotive styling with profound boredom, once spotted a photo of the Mark II on a magazine cover and immediately declared it the ugliest car she had ever seen.
As the EPA reminds us, your mileage may vary.
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NOTES ON SOURCES
Our primary sources for this article were Michael Lamm's "1961 Lincoln Continental," from Special Interest Autos #34 (May-June 1976), reprinted in Terry Ehrich, ed., The Hemmings Book of Lincolns (Hemmings Motor News Collector-Car Books (Bennington, VT: Hemmings Motor News, 2002), and "1961 Lincoln Continental" by the Auto Editors of Consumer Guide (11 October 2007, HowStuffWorks.com, http://auto.howstuffworks.com/1961-lincoln-continental.htm, accessed 11 February 2009). Additional information, including the story behind Elwood Engel's accession to the head of Chrysler styling, came from Dave Holls and Michael Lamm, A Century of Automotive Style: 100 Years of American Car Design (Stockton, CA: Lamm-Morada Publishing Co. Inc., 1997) and from David Crippen's 1985 interview with Gene Bordinat for the Benson Ford Research Center ("The Reminiscences of Eugene [Gene] Bordinat, Jr.," Automotive Design Oral History Project, Accession 1673, http://www.autolife.umd.umich.edu/Design/Bordinat_interview.htm, accessed 13 February 2009). We consulted a variety of period road tests, including Tom McCahill's test from the March 1961 issue of Mechanix Illustrated and Car Life's engineering analysis in the March 1961 issue of that magazine. Both tests are reprinted in R.M. Clarke, ed., Lincoln Continental 1961-1969 Performance Portfolio (Cobham, Surrey: Brooklands Books Ltd., 2000).
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I've always been quite fond of the 1962 Continental and the Continental Mark III, I would love a Mark III, however I settled for a 97 Town Car, which is not a classic, but it is an anachronism, and related to these cars.