Genteel Giants
The 600 and 600 Pullman – larger than life and ahead of their time

Article Graham Robson
Images courtesy Daimler Archives
 
Have you ever considered the sheer enormity of the Mercedes-Benz 600 project completed 50 years ago this year? The sheer ambition of it? The sheer chutzpah of a company and its bosses during a period when they were still re-creating the business after World War II? Yet here was a product – no, I apologize, two inter-related products – wherein every single item, structural and conceptual, was new. Quite simply, Mercedes-Benz set out to make the best car in the world – and the company succeeded.

It was the ambition of the project team that impressed me the most. Not the actual engineering. Not the styling. Not the price tag. No – it was the sheer ambition of a team that set out at the end of the 1950s to produce the W100 – later named the 600 – what the team considered to be the best car in the world. Not just a good car. Not just a great car. But the best of the best, of the best.

From interviews I conducted and impressions I drew years later, I know just how much of an effect the 600 had on the two companies that stood to suffer most from the impact on their tiny, and hitherto, exclusive market. The 600 forced Cadillac – which was then wedded to the concept of vast engines, simple chassis engineering, drum brakes and flamboyant styling – to think again. For Rolls-Royce, which had just invested heavily in a new alloy V-8 engine, the question was, could the companies find the money and expertise to break away from the ultra British-by-god style of the Silver Cloud and the old-fashioned engineering that it hid? After all, both these companies relied on the use of separate body-on-separate-chassis layouts, with beam rear axles, and drum brakes all around.

The W100 set out to eclipse the existing, old-fashioned 300 luxury family vehicle – on the market throughout the 1950s and now obsolete in almost every way – in style, engineering and performance. In the second half of the decade, annual sales of that car rarely exceeded 1,000, so a big leap was needed. The difference, however, was almost as big as that in moving up from a WW II V-2 rocket to a Saturn 5 launch vehicle – same principles, same engineering team, but vastly more ambition.

Following the principle of what an ever-pragmatic British engineer might conclude (“If it’s got to be big, why mess about, do it properly. ...”), Mercedes-Benz designed not one, but two very large machines. The original W100/600 model was vast, but the stretched 600 Pullman that evolved from it was simply enormous. A glance at the comparative table “Dominant Dimensions” on page 44 is enough to quickly establish how this car dwarfed all its predecessors.

Style and engineering

When the 600 was unveiled to an incredulous public in 1963 at the Frankfurt Show, one well-respected Italian stylist (who later refused to confirm his original comment) apparently said: “Oh look – I see that the Mercedes-Benz has banned the use of curved lines completely. ...” Perhaps it hadn’t, but there is no doubt that here was a very angular car – certainly the most severely styled to emerge from Stuttgart for many years. This was a very large sedan, with three big windows along the side of the “standard” 600, and no fewer than four along the side of the 600 Pullman, the wheelbase of which had been stretched by a substantial 27.5 inches.

Was it any surprise, therefore, that it also became possible to order a Pullman with six, not four, passenger doors, and that for a great deal of money, from 1965 there was also the very limited availability of a state Landaulet derivative, with an opening-top rear to the passenger cabin roof.

Looking back, it is easy to see how pundits were so impressed by the scale and ambition of the layout, not necessarily by the layout itself. Even so, except for the new 6.3-liter V-8 engine itself (I described the development of this engine in great detail in The Star, May-June 2012), much of the remainder of the layout was conventional by Mercedes-Benz standards, though usually larger, more complex, and more carefully detailed than models before. The 4-speed automatic transmission, for instance, was a strengthened version of the fluid-coupling device introduced in 1961 for use in 300s, now to be known internally as the K4B transmission.

The basic structure was a sturdy, pressed-steel monocoque, which was pressed and assembled at the Sindelfingen factory southwest of central Stuttgart. With a wheelbase of 126 inches, even the “small” 600 had the largest monocoque in the world – the previous record holder was the Jaguar Mk X, wheelbase 120 inches – but the 157.5 inches of the longer Pullman positively dwarfed anything that was yet to come.

And as for stretch limousines, which became fashionable in later years? Don’t make me laugh. Have you ever looked under a stretch limo and seen the level of reinforcement that is welded into place to make them viable? Mercedes-Benz accomplished the same task, and more elegantly so, in the 1960s.

The chassis itself sounds conventional, too – there was a wishbone independent front suspension, and swing-axle-independent rear suspension, both with anti-roll bars installed – but this was mated to air suspension, where compact high-pressure bags (pressurized by an engine-driven compressor) took the place of conventional coil springs. The system included a self-leveling feature and provision for the driver to alter drive height and ride firmness from a control on the fascia. The recirculating ball, power-assisted  steering, naturally, was standard.

Then there was the braking system. At a time when both Cadillac and Rolls-Royce continued to rely on big, servo-assisted drum brake installation, the new 600 used disc brakes at front and rear. Not just an ordinary installation however, for there were two separate calipers for each front disc to maintain control of this machine’s considerable weight.

For engineers, to merely study the specifications of this massive machine was a delight, but for those privileged to drive it, or be driven in it, there was more delight yet to come. Those observers who were truly close to the top of the management tree – which, in particular, meant the chance talk to, and see Rudolf Uhlenhaut at the wheel – soon found that this could be a surprisingly maneuverable machine, too.

In the bad old days between 1938-1939, in the ultra-rare 770 Grosser, a Mercedes-Benz chauffeur had to be strong because there was no such thing as power steering. But now this was a car in which there was power assistance for everything – for the brakes, and in particular for the steering. If the chauffeur was allowed to play with the suspension stiffness and height settings as he wished, this could be quite a manageable behemoth.

This is not to say that it handled other than as a very large sedan, but that it was able to trickle through crowded streets at walking pace, could rush along highways at more than 100 miles per hour, or proceed at any pace in between. Mind you, it helped to be rich (which, almost by definition, every owner, or head of state, would be who enjoyed a cocooned existence in the 600) because when a 600 was driven in a spirited manner, or was hustled along to reach an appointment on time, it was possible to get fuel mileage down toward 10 miles per American gallon. Maybe that did not break too many corporate bank accounts in the 1960s, but it may be one reason why so few 600s are seen out on our highways today. 

As to the standard of equipment, the level of sophistication, and the number of special features found in these machines, all I need do is to suggest that you re-read Michael Kunz’s magisterial review of a car originally built for a Libyan customer in 1969 (The Star, January-February 2013) to see what could be done. Even an “ordinary” 600 would have seven sumptuously furnished seats, but there was space for more in a Pullman, and special customers such as pontiffs or heads of states could have the interior completely reconfigured so they sat in style, alone, and in the cabin’s center.

Although Mercedes-Benz treated it like a production machine and supported it in the usual meticulous manner, this was as near to a very special case as any car it had built – or would build – in the second half of the 20th century. Although previewed in 1963, the 600 did not go into series production until autumn 1964 – only three cars, or pilot builds, I guess we would call them, built in 1963 – and 107 built the following year. Thereafter, the 600 was never built as stock because there was really no such thing as a standard specification.

Even so, 408 cars (63 of them Pullmans or Landaulets) followed in 1965, and 323 in 1966, but by then, both Cadillac and Rolls-Royce were vigorously fighting back; and because this was a very restricted market, world-wide demand slowly declined. Naturally, the effects of the Suez Crisis/energy crisis of 1973 contributed to decreasing demand – only 82 cars were built that year, after which the car stayed in the product line, but only as an indulgence to the company and its prestigious clientele.

With fewer than 50 cars built every year from 1974 onward, the 600 existed on life support for some time. After just 20 cars were built in 1981, the program wound down completely. Did the company make a net profit from this project? Almost certainly not. But was it worth it, for prestige and presence purposes? Of course it was. Still, Mercedes-Benz never undertook projects to build cars like that ever again. 
 
Main image, left: By any standard, the 600 Pullman was enormous. Some derivatives had six doors, and a handful of cars were sold with the Landaulet bodywork seen here. Above: Tycoons or confident heads of state could order a 600 with a fold-back roof or Landaulet in order to be seen more clearly. In the nearly 20 years of the 600’s production, only 59 such cars were ever made.
 
Dominant Dimensions

Production 1963-1981

Peak production was in 1965 when 408 cars were built.

Power & Performance

SPECIFICATIONS

CHASSIS AND BODY:  Front-engine, rear-wheel drive Steel unit-body construction. 4-door, 5-seat 600 limousine; 4- or 6-door, 7-seat limousine. Some Landaulet models.
DRIVE TRAIN: Type M100, eight cylinders in 90-degree vee, single-overhead camshaft with 4-speed automatic transmission.
FRONT SUSPENSION:  Independent, air suspension, auxiliary rubber springs, wishbones, anti-roll bar.
REAR SUSPENSION: Independent, air suspension, auxiliary rubber springs, low-pivot swing axles, anti-roll  bar.
SUSPENSION SYSTEM: Hydraulic/pressurized self-leveling, ride softness and ground clearance adjustable by driver control.
WHEELS & TIRES: 6 x 15 in. &  9 x 15 in.
BRAKES: Discs front and rear.
STEERING: Recirculating ball, with power assistance.
 


Not intended to be shared with any other Mercedes-Benz model, car or light truck, the independent front suspension was supported by a massive cross-member. Note the twin disc brake calipers on each wheel.
 

Although it looks superficially like a beam rear axle, the 600’s rear suspension was independent, with low-pivot swing axles and springing accomplished through air suspension. The ride was soft, and the available wheel travel considerable.



 
The W100 was an engineering masterpiece by any standard. Although large, it had to be to incorporate the massive V-8 engine, transmission, and space for seven seats. This drawing of the 600 depicts the “short” version – the Pullman was larger still.