1964 Imperial Crown Coupe
It was clear that this would be the start of something big just by opening the door on Wendy and Bob Walker’s 1964 Imperial Crown Coupe. And I mean big. The long, heavy door is just one part of a long, heavy car—longer and heavier than even the Continentals and Cadillacs of the period at 227.8 inches of overall length, with a 129-inch wheelbase totaling almost 5,000 pounds of languorous luxury; and yet, as it turns out, the best handling of the really BIG three.
I ease myself into the big Barcalounger driver’s seat and buckle the lap belt—not that it is necessary, because this car was designed to make the other guy’s car absorb the impact of a collision. I half expect a stewardess to offer me champagne as I get comfortable, because the whole cabin of the Imperial is first class. Head and legroom are sumptuous, and the interior is upholstered in a sea of cushy marshmallow white leather and black Bedford Cord fabric.
I tap the gas pedal and twist the key and the engine starts after a couple of revolutions. At least I think it does, because it immediately settles into silence. I am not sure whether it is running or not, but I release the parking brake, using the small lever grouped with the Torque-Flite pushbutton transmission controls on the left, and then press the reverse button and the great ivory behemoth oozes back into the street. I push “D,” touch the accelerator with my big toe, and we are away.
The car levitates soundlessly down the street in Back Bay Newport Beach, past big, sumptuous, mid-century modern homes. Our Imperial is in its environment, and completes the picture of style and elegance. Just driving this Crown Coupe makes me feel privileged. So much so in fact, that—uninvited—I pull into the forecourt of one of the more elegant homes so we can take a few pictures.
Wendy, who lives nearby and who came along for the ride, knocks on the door to obtain permission to do what we are already doing, which is photographing the car placed in its own milieu. We had only been driving it for a few minutes, but in doing so photographer Dave and I had allotted ourselves a heaping portion of Brahman-class arrogance. Wendy, having been raised with better manners, did the right thing though. By the time the homeowner said okay, however, we were already finished and ready to go on with our test drive.
The car is extravagantly roomy and comfortable, and the air conditioning is efficient and silent. It is a beautiful warm day in the Back Bay (inclement weather is prohibited by city ordinance) and we are enveloped in a cushy cone of silence as we motor regally along.
We find our way to a scenic one-way secondary road and turn off. The Crown Coupe dispatches the bumps discretely, and the torsion bar suspension keeps the car level in turns, even though it is very softly sprung. The steering feels as if the wheel is not attached to anything, and cornering is managed with one finger. The car takes up the whole road and then some, with gravel crunching on the sides.
We swing back out onto the highway and step on it. The car takes off at a suitably imperial pace and without making any undignified noises. We are almost instantly over the posted speed limit, though there is little sense of that. It just seems like all the other cars are slow.
This would be the perfect car to drive across Texas. It is big, comfy and smooth, even at speed. The car would look proportional to the wide-open spaces of the Southwest, whereas a modern Fiat or Smart car would look a little silly. The term touring car comes to mind. You could roll along in a 1964 Imperial all day long and not get cramped or fatigued. You wouldn’t even have to keep your foot on the gas, because Chrysler pioneered cruise control that year, and called it Auto Pilot. It holds the car within two miles an hour of where you set it.
Imperial was Chrysler’s top-of-the-line model for many years, but in 1955 it became a separate marque, the better to compete with Cadillac’s El Dorado and the Continental—which was also briefly a brand of its own in the mid-’50s. Imperial actually remained a separate brand until 1983, even though it was always marketed and serviced through Chrysler dealerships.
In the 1950s, Detroit’s Big Three were going all out to build the ultimate aristocratic land yacht. Cadillac had long been the flashy look-at-me car for movie stars and performers, and Lincoln had the politicians and organized crime covered, so that left Imperial to try to take over the niche that Packard once occupied, which was old money and people with patrician tastes.
It took Chrysler a while to get the Imperial’s market niche right though. The company was founded in 1924, when Walter P. Chrysler used the $10 million he got from selling his Buick stock to buy out ailing Maxwell. He was able to do that because he had been paid an enormous salary to manage Buick’s production by none other than Billy Durant, who knew that if anyone could turn Buick’s flagging fortunes around in the ‘teens, it would be Chrysler. He also did a brief stint as rainmaker to try to save Willys before starting his own company.
The Imperial debuted, in 1926, as Chrysler’s top-of-the-line model. It was long, low and handsome, and was one of the few cars that could give the mighty Duesenberg a run for its money. At Le Mans, in 1928, Chryslers came in 3rd and 4th, beaten only by a Stutz and a Bentley, both of which were vastly more expensive than the Chryslers.
Chryslers sold well during the late ’20s boom times. As a result, Walter P. was able to purchase Dodge Brothers in 1928 (The brothers died in 1920 of complications from the Spanish flu) and gained a huge industrial infrastructure that he soon put to good use. And in the bargain he gained one of the best and most popular mid-priced brands in the business.
Also in 1928 the company debuted its new low-priced Plymouth, intended to compete with Chevrolet and Ford in the low-priced field, by producing a line of cars that was arguably superior to both of them. Plymouth offered hydraulic brakes and all-steel bodies before either of its competitors, and provided more advanced design and engineering in general, including a rubber motor mounting system that made its cars smoother and quieter than even some of the higher-priced makes. No less than Packard soon adopted it for their cars.
However, contrary to popular belief, the Plymouth was not named after Plymouth Rock as one might surmise. Instead, Joseph Frazer who worked for Chrysler at the time—and later to build a car with his own name at Kaiser Frazer—took the moniker from a brand of binding twine that was quite strong and durable, and was called Plymouth Binding twine. Binding twine was ubiquitous in the days before plastic bags, when purchases were wrapped with brown paper.
The top of the line Imperials were on par with the other great classics of the time such as Cord, Duesenberg, Marmon, Packard, Cadillac and Lincoln. And they were equally handsome with stunning custom coachwork and dramatic paint schemes. In 1934, however, that all changed. Some would say for the better, but many others would say for the worse.
That’s because in 1934 Chrysler debuted the Airflow, which was way ahead of its time in many ways, but unfortunately it looked like a gigantic marine arthropod from the Cambrian period—especially the coupes. The aerodynamic bodywork was as a result of wind tunnel testing, and the chassis was beautifully engineered to produce a comfortable roomy machine that drove in many ways like a modern car. The Chrysler version had a big, flathead eight-cylinder engine hooked up to one of the first Borg Warner overdrives, and that resulted in a car that is quite at home even on modern freeways.
I can say this having driven a 1934 Airflow myself. They also stopped well with their four-wheel hydraulic brake systems. Airflows were handsomely equipped in the interior, and the Imperial, which also offered the first curved, one-piece windshield and a divider window for the rear-seated passengers, was absolutely sumptuous. The Airflow Chryslers were also extremely rugged. There is old film footage of one being driven off a cliff and then driven away afterward, hardly the worse for wear.
After the magnificent styling of the classic era Chryslers, however, the new Airflows looked lumpy and frumpy. The look was obviously heavily influenced by engineering and gave short shrift to the stylists. It was a sales flop in the United States as a result of this, but for some reason the French, Germans and Japanese loved it.
The Volkswagen Beetle is an unashamed miniaturized version of the airflow coupe—contrary to what most people think—as was the 1935 Peugeot 402 sedan. Japan even got into the act with a miniature DeSoto Airflow-type car equipped with a Chevrolet. The credit for the streamlined look is often attributed to the Tatra designs from Czechoslovakia, but if you take a closer look at the Beetle and the 402, I believe you will concur with my conclusions.
Walter P. Chrysler—builder of a vast automotive empire as well as one of the most iconic buildings in New York City—is an amazing success story. The magnificent Chrysler building is an art deco masterpiece, and running around it, a few stories up from the street, are a fraise of bas-relief Chrysler Airflows.
Chrysler decided to step down from an active role in the management of his company in 1936 at the age of 61. Then two years later, in 1938, his wife Della died. He had a devastating stroke soon after, and never really recovered. He died in August of 1940.
After the Airflow styling faux pas, the company went to more conservative, nondescript styling until the early ’50s. Chrysler’s products were well engineered and long-lived, but management felt that a gentleman needed to be able to wear his fedora while driving, so the cars were rather tall, and the styling sober and uninspiring. As a result, after the seller’s post-war market wore off, Chrysler began losing ground rapidly.
And then along came Virgil Exner. Chrysler management finally realized what the problem was. Their cars were still designed primarily by engineers, and were boxy looking. But Exner had worked for Raymond Loewy and Studebaker, and was on the cutting edge of auto design. He was given free rein, and promptly one-upped Harley Earl’s Cadillac fins and ignited a war of fins that took it to an illogical extreme with the 1959 Cadillacs and Imperials.
Chrysler also awoke from its wartime-induced slumber as regards automotive engineering, in 1950, when they introduced their first FirePower Hemi V8 to compete with the modern overhead valve, high-compression V8s from Oldsmobile and Cadillac. The company benefited from its wartime work on an aircraft engine called the XIV-2220, which was an inverted liquid-cooled hemispherical head V16 intended to power an updated version of the P-47 fighter-bomber, but it never went into production.
Chrysler’s new Hemi trumped everybody in the 1950s and was the favorite at drag strips all over the country. Its crossflow heads made for much more efficient breathing, but it did have its limitations. Because of the domed combustion chambers, the pistons had to be domed too in order to increase compression, and this caused the engine to become more prone to detonation because of the long flame travel.
Compression ratios went up steadily through the 1950s from 7.5:1 on up to as high as 10:1 by the ’60s, because raising the engine’s compression produced more power. And, as high octane leaded gasoline became commonly available, it doomed the old flatheads because they couldn’t sustain more than about 8:1 compression; and in the end it doomed the first generation Hemis, as well. That is why the Walkers’ 1964 Imperial has a wedge head 413-cubic-inch engine instead. This big V8 was a workhorse that also powered Mopar trucks, and was known for its awesome torque and reliability.
The 1964 Imperial finally ended the fin wars for Chrysler. In fact, many say that the Imperial of that year looks a lot like a contemporary ’60s slab-side Lincoln, and the resemblance isn’t purely coincidental. That’s because Chrysler lured Elwood Engel away from Ford to replace Exner in 1961 and Engel had designed the Lincolns.
The new Imperial was a complete redesign inside and out and bore no resemblance to those of Virgil Exner’s “Jetsons”-era styling with their swoopy fins, “sparrow strainer” tail lamps and headlights on stalks. Instead, the new design had a restrained but elegant look that exuded class and privilege. Sales went up 65 percent in 1964 as a result.
The interior of the Imperial was totally redesigned too, except for the push-button shift for the Torque-Flite transmission, which was held over for one last year. And, in addition to a full complement of gauges, there was a device called a Sentry Signal in the instrument panel that would alert the driver to check the gauges if something were amiss. Every effort was made to see that the driver was comfortable and stress free.
Courtesy lights were built into the door pulls, and thick foam-padded seats with large center retractable arm rests, along with copious sound proofing, ensured the comfort of drivers and passengers. The power steering and power brakes require only a minimum of exertion.
Chrysler had lost a bit of its hard-earned reputation for quality during the Exner years, with rust being a serious issue, but by 1964 the company was going to great effort to win back its standing with the buying public. Quality control was quite comprehensive on the Imperials. Even Lincoln, which had better quality control than Cadillac at the time, was not up to Imperial standards.
As an example, interior fabrics were impregnated with dyes that minimized fading even in sunbaked places like Arizona, and when they did fade it was evenly, so the loss of color wouldn’t be apparent. Even today the Walkers’ Crown coupe interior looks new.
All of the Imperials were given seven separate dip baths and six spray treatments to prevent any hint of corrosion. The anti rust treatment was so potent that it actually increased the rust immunity of the steel panels themselves. All of that was followed by nine coats of acrylic enamel, sanding between coats until the final one, which was cut and polished to perfection.
Three teams of inspectors went to a great deal of effort to ensure that Imperials were built to the highest possible standards, and numerous technicians kept a close eye on each stage of assembly as the car moved down the line. Quality control managers saw to it that procedures were followed to ensure that each car was defect-free, making the Imperial one of the best cars built in the United States at the time. And of course, that came at a price.
Chrysler engineers employed microphones, tape recorders, analyzers, oscilloscopes and other electronic equipment to measure sound conduction when designing the Imperial. As a result, they were able to devise many improvements to isolate and eliminate noise and vibration. Some of the noise wasn’t even audible to the human ear, but could cause tension and fatigue. Body mounts were also positioned to eliminate vibration and road noise, and served to isolate the passenger compartment, creating the previously mentioned silent interior.
Three layers of steel were used for exhaust pipes, and double thickness was utilized in exhaust pipe extensions beyond the mufflers. Also, Imperial was the only car built in America at the time to use a flexible coupling in its steering column to damp out road shock.
Once each car was completed, it was put through a comprehensive road test by a specialized team to make sure that everything functioned as it should.
As Tom McCahill said when he tested the new Imperial back in 1964: “In this country today we are manufacturing a number of big-time luxury barges and all of them are good. But the king of the pack is the Imperial by a country mile. It is delivered in Florida at the curb for $5,739. At these prices you should get luxury, and you do.”
We pull back into the Walkers’ driveway, push “P” on the shifter console, and shut off the ignition. We go from no sound and vibration to yet more no sound and vibration. I pull on the door handle, swing the big door and step out. We thank Wendy Walker profusely for letting us enjoy a brief moment of what it is like to travel first class in a classic automobile, and then climb into my sweltering Saturn Vue. Welcome back to the real world. Dave and I split a sack of stale Corn Nuts and a lukewarm bottle of water before heading home.
Specifications
ENGINE
Type – Overhead valve V8
Displacement – 413.2 cubic inches
Bore – 4.18 inches
Stroke – 3.75 inches
Compression ratio – 10.1 to 1
Horsepower – 340 at 4,600 rpm
Carburetion – Single four-barrel
Carburetor type – Carter AFB-3644-S
Overall length – 227.8 inches
Wheelbase – 129 inches
Construction – Body-on-frame
STANDARD EQUIPMENT
413.2 cubic-inch V8 engine w/four-barrel carburetor
Torque-Flite automatic transmission w/push button controls, illuminated at night
Automatic parking brake release
Fuel, Alternator, Oil Pressure and Temperature gauges
Trip odometer
Power brakes
Power steering
Dual exhausts (Convertible only)
Full carpeting
Padded dash upper and Lower
Dual sun visors, passenger side vanity mirror
Remote control outside rear view mirror (left side)
Glare-resistant two-position inside rear view mirror
Electric clock
Power windows
Heater and defroster, with illuminated controls
Stainless steel rocker moldings and wheel well moldings
Full wheel covers
Electric variable-speed windshield wipers
Windshield washer
Storage pockets in front door armrests
Illuminated glove box, luggage compartment and front ashtray
Four courtesy lights, map light
Three cigar lighters and ashtrays
Carpeted luggage compartment
