An Affair to Forget
Confessions of a Mark II Owner after 35 Years
By Robert Lawton, San Gabriel, California
Originally published in the July/August 1997 issue of Continental Comments (Issue # 217).
Way back in 1962 I was a happy young man, deeply in love with my 1948 Lincoln Continental coupe, which I had acquired in 1955. I had been a member of LCOC since that year, had made a lot of friends and the forseeable future looked rosy.
But then, like many a misguided young man, I left my true love for a tantalizing hussy with a gorgeous jet black paint job, an immaculate gray and white leather interior and a big V-8 engine you could have eaten off of. As it turned out, I had met the vixen from hell.
Bob Cowgill was a long-time LCOC member who lived in Pasadena and had owned a very beautiful 1941 Lincoln Continental coupe. But more recently he had purchased a 1956 Continental Mark II. When some personal reason prompted him to sell the Mark II who should he first offer it to but his old buddy-me. As I recall, he wanted $4,500 for it. I didn’t come close to having that kind of money, but Bob agreed to finance the deal for me. So I sold my lovely 1948 coupe to Tom Powels of the Classic Car Club and drove my new love home.
I never suspected that my happy motoring life was about to come to a rude end.
The next morning I decided to drive my new beauty to work and show her off to my envious co-workers. It was a cold morning, so I turned on the heater, and was immediately greeted by a blast of frigid air on my ankles. The drive to work was 20 miles, and not a breath of warmth could I coax from the heater. On the way home that evening I did get it to work for about 10 minutes, and then it was back to icy ankles. The flip side of this, as you may have guessed, was that when summer arrived the heater worked fine, but the air conditioner refused to even think about cooling the car.
I should state that I have never been one of those mechanically gifted people who do their own automotive work. I will pump gas and check the oil, but everything else gets worked on by people who know what they’re doing. Since the power antenna also was non-operative, I ran to my local Lincoln-Mercury dealer to see about getting warmed, cooled and serenaded by my radio.
For the heater and air-conditioner he wanted something like three months of my salary. The antenna, I was informed, could only be reached by removing the right front fender, a job that would take two men half a day or more of labor in order that they might then re-attach a vacuum hose. I declined gracefully and headed home in tears.
From that time on I put the antenna up and down by hand, wore warm clothes on cold days and opened all the windows on hot days. But my new lover was just getting started.
A couple of weeks later the motor that controlled the power wind wing on the driver’s door died. It took an entire weekend, but I did manage to replace it myself. But within a week a terrible grinding noise whenever I applied the brake pedal informed me that it was time to reline the brakes. I lived on beans for a month, but my brake shop got me back on the road. The weak smile on my face lasted only a few days, however, then the radio died.
In the trunk of my mean-spirited beauty was a shop repair manual, so I decided to follow the instructions for removing the radio. For those of you who have missed the experience, just let me say that first you have to remove that counter-balanced glove box, and then try and get the radio out of the hole formerly occupied by said glove box. I am living proof that it can be done, but I do not recommend the procedure to anyone with a short fuse. (When I took the radio to the repair shop, the owner informed me admiringly that he charged $75.00 labor just to remove the radio – and this was in 1962 dollars!)
To celebrate my victory over the radio, I decided to treat myself to an expensive dinner. Mindful of parking lot attendants, I parked on the street. Two martinis and half a filet mignon later the loudspeaker in the restaurant announced that smoke was pouring out from under the hood of a black Continental in front of the restaurant. My darling had struck again!
A large gas station on the corner had a night mechanic who managed to get the fire in my generator out. As I recall, some sort of Orwellian nightmare in the electrical system had caused the battery to run the generator—or to try to. Since such a thing is apparently impossible, the generator had burned itself to death. I told the guy to fix the problem and went back to the restaurant, where I found that they had thrown out my steak, given my table to someone else and had been considering having me arrested for leaving without paying the check. Thanks again, baby.
Mercifully, a short time later a man I knew only slightly mentioned that a friend of his, a doctor in Beverly Hills, was looking for a good clean Mark II. I murmured that, for the right amount I could be persuaded to part with the love of my life. The deal was made and I paid off Bob Cowgill.
I have spent the last 30-35 years hoping to God that doctor never finds me!






Part V, from Continental Comments #78.




In 1984 these cars took some getting used to. Aerodynamic design was only beginning to come out of Detroit at that time. A lot of Lincoln buyers were not used to it; hence Lincoln kept their Town Cars in the classic styling mode for the remainder of the decade. As the decade wore on, the Continental Mark VII, later renamed the Lincoln Mark VII, became more and more popular, especially the LSC series. Slowly Lincoln began to attract a younger type of buyer, not really the died -in-the-wool Mercedes buyer, but certainly the “Yuppie”who was moving up from the Toyota Celica and Honda Accord. The Marks of the Eighties defined for a whole new generation of Americans what Lincoln quality, craftsmanship and distinctive motoring personality were all about.
EAS was controversial in 1984 and remained so for several years. The fear was that it would eventually wear out and be prohibitively expensive to repair/replace. The mechanical air suspension of 1958 was highly unreliable, so much so that Ford never put it on a single Lincoln or Thunderbird, but a few hundred 1958 Fords and Mercurys were so equipped. The GM system, which was sold on all GM makes in some numbers, was forever deflating in the poor owner’s garage or driveway. EAS, introduced on the 1984 Mark VII was a much more encouraging story. It was developed over a four-year period in cooperation with Goodyear. The system is similar to that used by NASA for the space shuttle’s launch platform. As it was explained in Continental Comments #153, “Four rubber air canisters replace the standard coil springs. There is an electronic air compressor, two height sensors in the front and one in the rear, plus an open-door sensor, a brake sensor and a microcomputer in the trunk. With air springs, Lincoln-Mercury engineers were able to develop a ride that is soft enough on the boulevards, yet stiffens up in the turns. There is also automatic load leveling at all four corners so the car is always at the same level.”
If you’re buying an early Mark VII to collect, 1984-86, it will not be easy to find a low mileage car. The original owners bought them to be driven. It is very rare to find any example today with less than 100,000 miles. But don’t be discouraged, the low mileage examples are out there. Also, consider that miles really don’t mean a lot on a Mark VII if the car has been cared for. The LSC models are still the most popular and consequently command the highest prices. The Designer Series models are really not in demand like the LSCs, consequently you may be able to strike a real bargain. Original owners of these cars tended to be older, more conservative people, and you just may find one of these with low miles. The least collectible, but probably the most plentiful are the standard Mark VIIs. Any Mark VII with all the goodies, especially the moonroof option, is especially collectible.
Our feature car is a 1984 Bill Blass Mark VII owned by Ed and Joan Harants of Brunswick, Ohio. This is a 60,000 mile all original car. Harants bought the car when it was only one year old and had 11,000 miles. He has maintained it in like new condition ever since. Last year they entered the Mid-America National Meet in Itasca, Illinois and the Eastern National Meet in Plymouth Meeting, Pennsylvania. At both meets they took a Primary First. While Ed bought his car when almost new, others are finding that there are some real advantages in buying an early Mark VII now. First, it is possible today to buy such a car for $5,000 or less. All you really need to do is a lot of detailing in order to be highly competitive in the Primary Class. You really don’t need to worry about restoring. A Mark VII has yet to win a Ford Trophy and enter the Senior Class for even bigger hardware. And surely there must be one or two of them out there with only a few hundred miles, just waiting or some loving collector and Elliston H. Bell potential.
These are not the only Allegheny Ludlum stainless steel cars. The whole story goes back to the late ’20s when Henry Ford dreamed of a stainless steel car that would last forever. The first stainless steel cars to appear were Model A Fords back in 1930. Three of them were built. They had a conventional Ford chassis and running gear, wooden floorboards and stainless steel bodies—or “Allegheny Metal” as it was called then. Two of these cars were scrapped during world War II; the third one may survive.