Automotive History: 1972 Lincoln Continental Mark IV – Bunkie Knudsen Leaves His Mark

 

Ford’s flagship Lincoln Continental Mark was all-new for 1972, sporting a new look selected by Semon “Bunkie” Knudsen during his brief tenure as president of Ford Motor Company. Let’s take a look at how it came about and how it ended up, including an article from the August 1971 Motor Trend detailing the technical highlights of the 1972 Mark IV.

Bunkie Knudsen at Ford

On February 6, 1968, Semon E. “Bunkie” Knudsen became the new president of Ford Motor Company. This was a big “get” for Ford: Bunkie Knudsen, the son of former GM president (and one-time Ford production chief) William S. Knudsen, was a dynamic auto industry veteran who’d revived Pontiac in the late ’50s and early ’60s, and then gone on to a successful stint as general manager of Chevrolet. He’d thought he would eventually assume the role his father had once held, but when he learned he’d been passed over for the GM presidency in favor of Ed Cole, Bunkie jumped ship, heading to Dearborn and the job Ford executive VP Lee Iacocca had assumed would soon be his.

 

Iacocca would have resented Knudsen no matter what — he was so angry at Knudsen’s appointment that he almost resigned — but Bunkie’s hands-on management style soon had him treading heavily all over Iacocca’s well-polished loafers. Knudsen wasn’t one to sit behind a desk and wait for people to come to him. He liked to make the rounds in styling and engineering, often early in the morning, to check in, see what was new, offer suggestions and encouragement, and generally stick his nose in things that Iacocca considered his personal purview. Iacocca wrote later that Knudsen “alienated me and a lot of other top people by making policy in areas that were ours to decide.”

There were few programs where this stood a greater chance of rankling Iacocca than the Lincoln Continental Mark. While not a segment-defining phenomenon like the Mustang, the Mark III was Iacocca’s baby — it had been his idea, more or less, and during its development, he had insisted on preserving elements that became the car’s defining stylistic features, even when they hadn’t tested well. Finally launched in April 1968 as an early 1969 model, the Mark III quickly became Ford Motor Company’s most prestigious and most profitable model by a long margin, and it was a personal favorite of chairman Henry Ford II.

 

By the fall of 1968, preliminary design work had already begun on the next-generation Mark, the Mark IV, in the Corporate Projects Studio headed by Don DeLaRossa. Former Ford-Werke design chief Wesley P. Dahlberg, who had led the design of the very successful 1961 German Ford Taunus 17M, had been assigned to that studio after returning from Germany the previous year. Dahlberg at this point was apparently on thin ice — according to modeler Fred Hoadley, who’d worked with him in Cologne, Dahlberg had essentially been dismissed from Ford of Germany after clashing with new Ford-Werke chief engineer Jack Hooven, and the designers who worked with Dahlberg in the corporate Advanced studio back in Dearborn said he was on bad terms with both DeLaRossa and Ford Design VP Eugene Bordinat. Dahlberg’s team (which also included Jim Arnold, Dean Beck, Richard Blair, and modeler/designer Bob Hackett) felt that the antipathy between Dahlberg, DeLaRossa, and Bordinat meant none of the team’s design proposals were ever going to get any real traction, and their Mark IV proposal would probably go the same way.

 

However, none of them had figured on Bunkie Knudsen, who unexpectedly came into the studio early one morning, got the modeling supervisor to show him the full-size clay of the Dahlberg team’s Mark IV proposal, and promptly fell in love with it. Knudsen approved the design for production immediately, subsequently rejecting an alternate design by Steve Sherer and Ron Perry that Bordinat and DeLaRossa liked better, and vetoing Bordinat’s attempts to alter the Dahlberg design, which eventually went ahead with few changes.

 

Whatever the aesthetic pros and cons of the Dahlberg proposal, the way Knudsen had approached it could hardly have been more politically tone-deaf. Bunkie had managed, in one fell swoop, to antagonize Iacocca, Bordinat, AND Henry Ford II, who was accustomed to having the last word on styling approvals, especially for cars that appealed so strongly to his personal tastes. While Knudsen was president, holding the presidency of the Ford Motor Company was really more like being prime minister in a constitutional monarchy — the president served at the pleasure of the “monarch” whose name was on the door. Conflicts like these quickly left Bunkie without any support from either King Henry or the rank and file, and a vote of no confidence was imminent.

 

 

HFII finally fired Knudsen in early September 1969. That was long before the Mark IV went into production, but too late to make any substantive design changes to what Knudsen had already approved. Thus, as galling as it was for Iacocca and Bordinat, the Continental Mark IV that debuted in the fall of 1971 was still bore the unmistakable mark of Bunkie, despite Iacocca’s ongoing, mostly unsuccessful attempts to put his own stamp on it.

 

Which brings us to this new model introduction in the August 1971 Motor Trend, published perhaps 10 weeks before the Mark IV went on sale in late September:

Like the earlier Motor Trend analysis of the 1970 Lincoln Continental two years earlier, this article by A.B. Shuman is not a road test, but a new model preview, based on what I assume was a long-lead press event earlier in the summer. So, there are no performance figures and only minimal driving impressions on a Ford proving grounds test track. The focus is analyzing the new design and its various engineering developments.

 

Shuman began by acknowledging that the outgoing Continental Mark III was “a tough act to follow.” He remarked:

The Mark III belongs to that select category of things done well. That is not to say that it was a perfect car — it was not – but rather that it fully achieved its ideal of quiet, restrained luxury, devoid of flamboyance or ostentation. Its designers call it “understated elegance,” and maybe that’s what it is. The approach dates to the classic years of Lincoln, in the Twenties and early Thirties, under the stewardship of Edsel Ford, made president shortly after his father bought the financially troubled Lincoln Motor Company out of receivership in 1922.

The Mark III was the revival of the essential spirit of the Mk I and Mk II Continentals after the Continental name had been relegated to a succession of mundane, sometimes garish and usually overly large sedans starting in 1958. In terms of numbers, it was by far the most successful, with an approximate four-year total of 79,390 cars at the close of production in early June. By comparison, the Mark I totaled 5,324 cars in six years and the Mark II an even 3,000 in its two years of production.

 

Shuman also offered a good summation of the Mark III’s appeal:

It was a personal car: there was a sort of close-coupled feeling remarkable in a machine of its size that allowed you as the driver to interact with it. It was extremely solid and quiet, yet there was a good road sense through the steering, and the high-peaked fenders and the way the sides of the hood dropped sharply away from the squared power dome let you know where you were and where you were going. And that you were in control. The interior appointments — the upholstery, the Cartier clock, the woodgrain dash — all bespoke quality. Throughout the car careful attention to even minute detail was evident.

Those were the qualities that had enabled the Mark III to win M/T‘s 1970 “King of the Hill” comparison a year earlier. The Eldorado was more modern-looking and boasted a few amenities and mechanical features the Mark didn’t, but the Cadillac’s interior didn’t offer the same attention to detail or sense of occasion.

 

Although there had been some talk in early 1969 of downsizing the Mark IV and Thunderbird by moving them to the intermediate platform of the Ford Torino and Mercury Montego — the S-13624 clay model pictured above — this idea was shot down at an early stage. The production Mark IV was 4 inches longer than the Mark III (on a 3.2-inch-longer wheelbase) and stood a half-inch lower. It was actually fractionally narrower than the Mark III, but track width increased by about an inch, and it looked bulkier.

Shuman was probably unaware of the contentious origin of the Mark IV design (and Motor Trend was obsequious enough that they might have avoided mentioning it even if they knew), but given Gene Bordinat’s displeasure with the development process, I imagine him reading this passage with gritted teeth:

To lessen the odds of falling off the tightrope, Eugene Bordinat, Ford’s articulate vice-president of styling, maintained close personal supervision over the entire three-year gestation process that was to end with the emergence of the Continental Mark IV. The exterior styling that resulted is handsome, an evolutionary refinement, with changes so sweeping, yet so subtle and so attuned to the basic character of the Mark III, that unless you had the two cars side-by-side you could in no way be convinced that there isn’t a single common piece in their bodies.

After the exterior design for the Mark IV was completed in 1969, Wes Dahlberg had moved to the Lincoln-Mercury studios to develop the interior. This retained the rectangular gauge surrounds of the previous generation (although there were no longer many gauges), but the driver and passenger sides were now divided into separate pods. As before, the HVAC controls were to the left of the steering wheel.

 

Prices had not been announced at the time of the M/T article, but the base MSRP was eventually set at $8,640, raised later in the model year to $8,897. Standard equipment was generous: automatic climate control, power windows, a six-way power seat, AM radio with power antenna, tinted glass, and of course the signature Cartier clock in the dashboard. Leather upholstery, power locks, cruise control, a tilt steering wheel, and a rear defogger were still extra, and a full load of options made this a $10,000 car, or near enough — about $75,400 in December 2024 dollars.

 

The photo in the center column above is Bennett E. Bidwell, who was the general manager of Lincoln-Mercury from 1970 to 1973, and before that the executive VP of Ford’s credit company. He went to Hertz in 1981 and became Chrysler president and vice chairman in 1983, under Lee Iacocca, which, given Iacocca’s well-documented propensity for grudges, probably tells you all you need to know about where Bennett stood in the earlier conflict between Iacocca and Bunkie Knudsen.

Shuman reported that the stated reason for the new Mark’s greater length — and its new four-link rear suspension — was to improve rear seat room, which it did:

All of this converts to 1.9 inches more effective legroom, 2.3 inches more shoulder room and 2.0 inches more knee room (up from .9 to 2.9) in the back seat. Interestingly, while the rear seat is wider, the specification for hiproom shows a decrease from 60.4 to 54.3, the main reason for which is conscience. (In ’68, they measured under the armrests to puff-up the figure, but for ’72 they only took the usable span between them.) There were also gains in the front seat space race, particularly in shoulder and hiproom, both increased more than 2 inches.

 

However, Shuman felt the more expansive interior had not been achieved without cost:

The price you pay for this internal growth is a loss of that very nice, very personal close-coupled character that made the Mark III stand out. In addition, though the front overhang has actually increased only a small amount, the wider, flatter, longer hood presents a nonstop plain of stamped steel to the driver, with only a stand-up, spring-loaded four-pointed star to mark its furthest reaches. (And over that little gimmick there was apparently a major battle waged, with the forces of reason obviously losing out.) The car not only is bigger, but it seems bigger, which does not necessarily mean better.

 

Shuman was also not happy about the downturn in performance:

For its size, the Mark III had a respectable level of performance. The engine was responsive, and when you wanted the car to move it moved. Not so with the IV. There has been a 200-pound increase in weight, though this isn’t really significant in a 5,000-pound car, but the real change is in the Federalized engine. The 460-cubic-inch four-barrel V8 is still used, but after the latest spate of emission-control modifications and the drop in compression ratio so that it may operate on unleaded fuel, much of the punch is gone, particularly in initial acceleration, though I was able to drive one on the Ford test track at speeds above an indicated 90 mph, plenty fast for a car of this magnitude. It should have no trouble cruising at legal speeds.

I unfortunately don’t have the AMA specifications for the Mark IV or the 1971 Mark III, but I’m dubious about Shuman’s assertion that the Mark IV had gained 200 lb. He seems to have compared the base curb weight of the Mark IV (4,956 lb) to the base curb weight of the original 1968½ Mark III (4,738 lb), without taking into account the additional standard equipment (in particular air conditioning, which added over 100 lb). According to Automotive Industries, the published shipping weight of the 1972 Mark IV was a mere 2 lb greater than the shipping weight of the 1971 Mark III. The curb weight listed for the Mark IV in the later “King of the Hill” test in the July 1972 Motor Trend (5,010 lb) was actually 28 lb less than they’d quoted for the 1971 Mark III they tested in July 1971.

 

As before, the Mark IV used the four-barrel 460 cu. in. (7,536 cc) V-8 and C6 automatic, but the engine’s compression ratio was reduced to 8.5:1, allowing it to run on unleaded gasoline. Lincoln-Mercury was a bit cagey about outputs, but the low-compression 1972 engine had 212 horsepower and 342 lb-ft of torque, both SAE net ratings. So far as I know, Ford never released net figures for the high-compression 460-4V, but my guess is that between 1970 and 1972, the big engine lost something like 60 hp. Acceleration was still adequate, but the lost power did hurt performance. Here are comparative acceleration figures from Motor Trend‘s “King of the Hill” tests in July 1972 and July 1970, for the Mark IV (with the 3.00 “Hi-Torque” axle) and the high-compression Mark III (with the standard 2.80 axle):

Mark IV vs. Mark III Performance

Acceleration (2 aboard)	1972 Lincoln Continental Mark IV	1970 Lincoln Continental Mark III
0–30 mph	4.2 secs.	3.5 secs.
0–45 mph	6.9 secs.	5.9 secs.
0–60 mph	10.5 secs.	9.2 secs.
0–75 mph	15.6 secs.	13.6 secs.
Passing, 40–60 mph	5.6 secs.	4.7 secs.
Passing, 50–70 mph	6.3 secs.	5.6 secs.
Standing start ¼ mile	18.1 secs. at 80.0 mph	16.5 secs. at 85.6 mph

 

The new perimeter frame (pictured on the page below) was of the “S” type, designed to crush at a controlled rate in a collision, a design already introduced on full-size Ford and Mercury models for 1969. There was also a new collapsible steering column. Most of this was standard Ford parts bin stuff at the time, with the biggest disappointment being that Ford hadn’t yet matched the variable-ratio power steering used on larger GM cars. The Mark IV’s fixed-ratio power steering still required almost four turns lock to lock, compared to 2.75 for the rival Eldorado.

While the spring rates described in the text don’t indicate the actual wheel rates, the springs themselves were softer than before, although there was a skinny 0.625-inch rear anti-roll bar as well as the 0.81-inch front bar. It sounds like the biggest preoccupation of the chassis engineers was refining the bushings and body mounts to further reduce noise, vibration, and harshness; even moderately aggressive cornering had never been part of the Mark’s remit. However, the Kelsey-Hayes Sure-Track rear antilock braking system remained standard, as did Michelin radial tires — and for once, the obligatory whitewalls were standard rather than optional.

 

The M/T photo captions laud the “cleaned-up” exterior, with its now-concealed cabin-air exhaust vents and the taillights relocated to the rear bumper. I’m not wild about the latter from a practical standpoint — they rendered the rear bumper little more than a cosmetic item, at least until the arrival of the bulkier federally mandated 5 mph bumpers for 1973. Ford designers were very unhappy about those, but the standard of bumper protection prior to that point was pretty grim, and adding broken taillights to the cost of minor parking lot mishaps has never seemed like a good idea to me, whatever the stylists might think.

Exactly who deserves the credit (or the blame, depending on your point of view) for the Mark’s new opera windows is unclear, although photos of the clay models show that they were a late addition. Both Gale Halderman and Bill Boyer have claimed that the opera windows were their idea, a way of improving rear quarter visibility with the roof’s broad blind sail panels. Shuman complained that they tended “to make the car seem larger,” which is arguable.

 

Shuman described the opera windows as “a ‘delete option,’ meaning that it will be supplied unless the customer specifically orders his car without it.” At least for the first part of the 1972 model year, the opera windows were an $81.84 option, but they eventually became standard, and the only picture I could find of a car without them was from the 1972 brochure:

 

Unlike the Eldorado, there were no Mark IV convertibles, but there was again a power sunroof available for an extra $611.28. It cost some headroom and a bit of body rigidity, but it was more practical than a convertible.

 

According to Shuman, the Mark’s new dash design was intended to facilitate “the future location of an air bag package for the front seat.” There was serious talk of mandating airbags around this time — and GM offered its Air Cushion Restraint System on a modest number of 1972–1975 cars — but automakers succeeded in pushing back any actual federal requirement for such restraints until well into the 1990s.

 

Personally, I’m disheartened by the abandonment of full instrumentation in favor of more warning lights — probably a side effect of the switch to the two-pod dashboard design, plus the usual penny-pinching. I realize owners mostly didn’t care, but cars like this were supposed to be indulgent, so offering no more instrumentation than a Maverick seems wrong to me, standard Cartier chronometer or no, and the Mark III instrumentation had added to its distinctive interior atmosphere.

 

If you’re wondering, the brochure describes the dashboard wood trim as “Kashmir Walnut Woodgrain Matina,” with the inset panels in “Baby Burl Walnut Woodgrain appliqué.” I must confess I like the former better than the latter, which reminds me too much of the cheap woodgrain furniture so ubiquitous in the ’70s and ’80s. (I feel like my family had a cheap discount-store presswood TV cart covered with an appliqué in that exact woodgrain pattern.)

Since Shuman only had the chance to drive the car briefly on a test track, his ride and handling impressions were necessarily limited. He remarked:

Besides the amazing quiet of the Mark IV, there is a new plushness of ride. When encountering large bumps the initial displacement, though gentle, is greater than experienced in the Mark III, but the oscillations are damped out much sooner. The placement of the stereo speakers in the lower door panels produces an effect akin to having [Philadelphia Orchestra conductor and music director] Eugene Ormandy in the back seat. All adding to further insulate and isolate the occupants from the boorish reality of the road. The Mark IV is a handsome car, indeed. It is also a nice car, perhaps even a fine one, but it seems to have graduated to limousine status, and that’s the shame.

No one, even Motor Trend editors, expected big American personal luxury cars like this to be anything other than cushy, but the degree of isolation from the road and from the outside world in general was somewhat disconcerting compared to most cars, and not everyone appreciated it. In the 1972 “King of the Hill” test of the Mark IV and Eldorado, M/T editor John Lamm criticized “their tendency to lean heavily in corners and wallow in dips,” although he conceded, “They made us feel too removed from traffic, a point we don’t like, but at the same time the very thing for which many of their owners buy them.”

 

Such complaints didn’t deter buyers one iota, nor did the subsequent energy crisis. However annoyed Henry Ford II, Gene Bordinat, and Lee Iacocca (who finally became Ford president in December 1970) had been about Knudsen choosing and championing this design, the Mark IV proved to be a resounding commercial success. Over the course of its four-year run, it sold very nearly as well as its Ford Thunderbird sibling — which cost about $2,000 less, similarly equipped — and handsomely outsold the Cadillac Eldorado:

Cadillac Eldorado, Ford Thunderbird, and Lincoln Continental Mark IV Production,
1972–1976

Model Year	Cadillac Eldorado	Ford Thunderbird	Lincoln Continental Mark IV
1972	40,074	57,814	48,591
1973	51,451	87,269	69,437
1974	40,412	58,443	57,316
1975	44,752	42,685	47,145
1976	49,184	52,935	56,110
Totals	225,873*	299,146	278,599

(* The Eldorado total is just for 1972–1976, not for the full 1971–1978 run of that generation.)

Nonetheless, I’m pretty sure that the success of the Mark IV did little to mitigate Iacocca and Bordinat’s displeasure with it. Sometimes, there’s nothing so galling as getting the right answer from the wrong person.

Related Reading

Curbside Classic: 1968-1971 Lincoln Continental Mark III – Right On!…The Mark (by Paul N)
Vintage M/T Review: 1970 Cadillac Eldorado Vs. Lincoln Continental Mark III – “Take Me To Beverly Hills” (by me)
Curbside Classic: 1972 Lincoln Continental Mark IV – About Fathers, Sons and Cars (by J P Cavanaugh)
Curbside Classic: 1976 Continental Mark IV Givenchy Edition – Aqua Couture (by Tom Klockau)
Classic Curbside Classic: 1976 Lincoln Continental Mark IV – Gas Fed Beef (by Richard Bennett)