John Z. De Lorean - AutomoBear.com - John Z De Lorean.pdf · John Z. De Lorean - 1 - John Z. De Lorean January 6th, 1925 – March 19th, 2005 “The purchase of a revolutionary new

© AutomoBear.com 2002-2005 March 23rd, 2005 John Z. De Lorean

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John Z. De Lorean January 6th, 1925 – March 19th, 2005

“The purchase of a revolutionary new product, particularly one as significant as a car, is an act of faith, perhaps even courage,” wrote De Lorean Motor Company Chairman John Zachary De Lorean in a letter to new owners of the 1981-1983 DMC12, the car he had proudly brought into existence. With a continued view to encouraging innovation in the automotive industry, we would agree. An engineer by training, De Lorean often mused on the compromises the discipline required, and on the importance of carefully tuning that compromise. Before he embarked on a venture that would place incredible faith in the public’s willingness to see things his way, De Lorean spent almost twenty-five years rising through the ranks of the automotive industry. In 1948, he began his career at 23, fresh from a mechanical engineering degree from the Lawrence Institute of Technology and starting with Chrysler. A masters in industrial engineering from the Chrysler Institute followed, culminating in an MBA from the University of Michigan. At 31, this son of a Ford assembly-line worker headed Packard’s R&D, helping to develop Ultramatic as the first automatic transmission with an aluminum housing. Not impressed with Packard’s conservative administration, De Lorean became restless. That energy was just what General Motors needed, thought Pontiac General Manager Semon E. ‘Bunkie’ Knudsen, who encouraged De Lorean to take a job as director of advanced engineering at Pontiac. By 36, De Lorean was Pontiac’s chief engineer, credited with the overhead-cam engine; concealed windshield wipers; lane-change modes for turn signals; hidden radio antennae; the


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Endura rubber bumper, and the Tempest’s drive chain – not to mention the Pontiac Grand Prix, GTO, and Firebird, and the wide-track stance these cars adopted. Nine years later, he ran the division, becoming at 40 the youngest man ever to do so at GM. De Lorean moved to Chevrolet in 1969, launching the 1970 Monte Carlo and introducing the Vega to a division hungry for new and less stodgy product. The media loved it, partly for the serious effort to challenge the imports that it represented in those heady days, and partly for the outspoken manner of the man who promoted it. “It’s going to be very difficult for us to make a reasonable profit on the car,” De Lorean intimated, adding fuel to the fire with typical understanding of the issues behind the car’s development.

“Primarily, you’re competing with a Japanese who earns only 25% of an American worker’s salary, or a German who gets 50%. So it’s difficult to compete. Plus the fact that many of the Japanese cars are sold in this country at a considerably lower price than they are sold in Japan.

“But we felt that it was necessary to get into this market, and once we made that decision, we were determined to do a good job.”

This, they did; Chevrolet became the first GM division to sell 3 million cars and trucks in a single year. By 1972, John De Lorean was group vice president in charge of all GM’s American car and truck operations. Despite these achievements, and the more than 100 patents De Lorean held, it is his $200 million sports car project for which he will be most remembered: De Lorean Motor Cars, the venture he left GM in April 1973 to start. By all accounts, tolerance for the flamboyant De Lorean at conservative General Motors had been waning in recent years. De Lorean Motor Cars, Ltd. was established in 1975. From this would appear the 1981-1983 DMC-12, which Autoweek would characterize as “the sports car that John Z. De Lorean dreamed of as a vengeful angel with stainless steel sword and shield doing combat unto Detroit’s more starched standards.”1 In an ironic twist, De Lorean maintained that GM’s covert belief in his 1 Autoweek, December 21st, 1981

John Z. De Lorean with the Pontiac GTO and Tempest, the cars with which he helped turn the division around


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project gave him the faith he needed, suggesting that people at GM turned down his XP8-98 idea (a fiberglass body on a fiberglass frame, from which the DMC-12 originated); were privy to his first few brochures that implied he might do it by himself, and even terminated his bonus to discourage the project. De Lorean viewed himself as the little guy, outspoken in his idea that he would show General Motors how to build a better car, yet aware that, as he told Esquire, “if the entire U.S. government tried to compete with General Motors, it would fail.”2 Yet from the earliest days he encouraged his company to think big, and to present itself as fully-functional. He was wary of becoming another Bricklin, a failed venture he criticized for having too little money. De Lorean also bristled at the inevitable comparisons to Preston Tucker, whose 1948 Tucker Torpedo was a second failed venture, a car that was remembered as innovative and yet fielded by an organization that was tragically out of its depth. Perhaps in reaction, De Lorean began amassing some of the top people in the industry for his project. George Broomfield, a 26-year GM veteran with former responsibility for setting up GM’s Brazil engine and Argentina truck plants, was Managing Director. Mike Loasby came to De Lorean Product Engineering having been Managing Director for Aston Martin Engineering. Purchasing Director Barrie Willis arrived from Jaguar and Reliant (from the latter’s Scimitar days). “We all believe this is going to work,” DMC President and former Chrysler Vice Chairman Cafiero told MOTOR. “We are not here because we have nowhere to go; you can be sure of that.”3 Yet De Lorean’s key ally was former Pontiac engineer William T. Collins, Jr., recruited in October, 1974. Collins, who had been chief engineer on GM’s 1977, ‘down-sized,’ B-Body cars, was attracted by De Lorean’s ideas of an ‘ethical’ sports car, one that was safe as well as exciting. It was this, in particular, that had generated investment, early in the game, from Allstate Insurance. The goal, said De Lorean, was “to design and build a car that would be as safe as possible; reliable; comfortable; handle and perform well; be enormous fun to drive, and unmistakably elegant in appearance.” Moreover, De Lorean had a bone to pick with a certain $16,000 American sports car, which he planned to undercut by $4,000 (hence the DMC-12) moniker. There was room for a less overt, more tailored Corvette, thought De Lorean. DMC-12 was to be the company’s only model. It would measure 168 inches in length; 78.3 inches in width, and 44.9 inches in height. Like the Corvette and GM’s upcoming F-Bodies (Camaro/ Firebird), the DMC-12 was low to the ground at 5.6 inches. It was 18 inches shorter than the Corvette, 4-inches lower, and 9-inches wider (reminiscent of wide track).

2 Esquire, June 19th, 1979 3 MOTOR, May 1981


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Deciding to build a sports car had been the easy part. The segment was profitable and offered the most room for a new entry. Moreover, De Lorean noted that, “to identify a new company, the sports car gave you the image of being youthful, aggressive, and adventurous.”4

“The advantage to us is that sports cars attain a degree of visibility quite disproportionate to their actual sales. When I ran Chevrolet, the full-sized Chevrolet was the largest selling single car in the world but we never got it on a magazine cover, nobody wrote about it in the newspapers. “But some little Italian in Turin builds a special sports car and there it is on the cover of the motoring magazines, special supplements in the New York Times.”5

So, to Italy De Lorean and Collins went, traveling to the Turin Motor Show in December, 1974, to talk with Giorgetto Giugiaro of Italdesign. Giugiaro agreed to pen the styling that would sit atop Collins’ frame, and came up with a shape that today remains evocative of the seventies in its wedge-like front end and its graphic use of rubber and plastic pieces for decoration. Thin at one end, thick at the other, the De Lorean recalled Alfa Romeo’s GTV6; Lancia Monte Carlo/ Scorpion; Matra-Simca Bagheera; Triumph’s TR7, and Lotus’ 1974 Elite and 1976 Esprit. De Lorean had asked Giugiaro for a design free of the gimmickry of pop-up headlamps, and yet with mandated gullwing doors (at the time, featured only on the Lamborghini Countach). The apparent conflict was no surprise to those who knew De Lorean; the man who often criticized government regulation was said to have left GM over the company’s decision to fight 1975 emissions regulations rather than install the three-way catalytic converters De Lorean had wanted. Gullwing doors, of course, go back to the 1950s Mercedes-Benz SL, a car whose doors were fairly light to solve the problem of having to open them. De Lorean would have to meet modern crash standards, but wanted the doors all the same – despite the fact that the SL’s were mandated not by appeal, but by the race-car frame design that left no space for conventional doors. In the end, the heavy doors were made manageable by a cryogenically-manufactured torsion bar (a trick used on the tailgate of Ford’s 2004 F-150) and door struts. Like Lamborghini, De Lorean was concerned about the space required to operate the doors; yet, unlike Lamborghini, he wanted a true, upward-opening ‘gullwing’ effect. The solution was to hinge the doors close to the centerline of the roof, swinging them primarily upward and requiring no more than 14 inches of width on each side of the car.

4 Autocar, June 13th, 1981 5 Autocar, March 14th, 1981


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De Lorean wanted other things, too. Prototypes included air bags; one-piece elastomeric bumpers; passive-restraint automatic seat belts, and an onboard computer with digital read-out. Perhaps most significantly, prototypes also featured a stainless steel frame and a still-more-adventurous Elastic Reservoir Moulding (ERM) process. ERM was effectively a sandwich of glass-fiber mat around resin-impregnated urethane foam. The sandwich could be compressed from an inch to a tenth of an inch to mold complex shapes and thus the panels for the body-frame. Under that body-frame sat Collins’ pride and joy: engineered for a torsional rigidity of 7,000 lb-ft/ degree, it was a combination of front and rear sub-frames; at the front, simply a cross-member, but at the rear, a real, square, steel sub-frame. All-around double-wishbone suspension featured. Even the engine was to be unconventional. Citroen offered De Lorean a preliminary commitment to supply 30,000 rotary engines and accompanying transmissions per year from its Comotor joint-venture with NSU. Inevitably, problems arose. When Comotor went south as the gas crisis became more prevalent, De Lorean looked to Mazda as the sole remaining rotary provider. When talks lagged, Collins, seeking consensus on the powerplant, looked at several alternative engines including a German Ford V6 and a piston Citroen four-cylinder. He would decide on the PRV V6. Our editor, who owns a 1981 Renault 18i, likes to regale the unsuspecting with tales of the De Lorean’s engine source: Renault – or, to be more accurate, Peugeot, Renault, and Volvo. The PRV joint venture had produced a 2.8-liter SOHC V6 in 1975. The engine was, much like the 1981-1983 Renault 18i, fitted with Bosch K-Jetronic fuel injection and hemispherical cylinder heads. In the De Lorean, as in the Lotus Esprit, lay a Renault 5-speed manual transmission or 3-speed automatic. The latter was equipped with intercooler to solve the notorious overheating problems for which French ZF automatics were known at the time. It seems odd that De Lorean claimed that PRV was chosen for its fuel economy, weight, and power. The engine had originally been intended as a V8, and had later been dumbed down in the wake of the 1973 gas crisis. It seems more likely that proximity of suppliers to the Irish plant, and the durability of the engine, were the key reasons. Further problems would beguile the De Lorean. Engineering Collins’ frame was proving to be a daunting task. De Lorean sought help from Lotus founder Colin Chapman, who would have nothing to do with the existing frame. Lotus would come up with its own version, effectively two Y-frames

“I know of very few engineers who are as capable as Colin Chapman,” said John De Lorean of the Lotus founder. Lotus would be called in to help with the frame. It was the firm’s first piece of contract work, and established a tradition that continues today


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joined by a bulkhead. Torsional rigidity dropped to 2,400 lb-ft/ degree, although Loasby notes that “it must be said that this seemed to have little effect on the general performance of the car.”6 Somewhat disappointed, Collins left De Lorean to become Managing Director of Special Engineering Programs at Renault-AMC’s Kenosha, Wisconsin factory. De Lorean himself was not without his own disappointments. The use of stainless steel in the frame was canned for cost and susceptibility to cracking in low temperatures, while the ERM process proved too expensive and required three hours per body – a blow to De Lorean, who had purchased all the requisite patents from Shell and Dow Chemical. Regardless, De Lorean was philosophical about the elimination of these aspects, telling Automotive News simply, “I think it’s the same car except it’s been contemporarized on a continuing basis,”7 and adding that the epoxy-coated frame was as rust-resistant as the stainless steel variant (although the frame could be exposed to rust if the epoxy were scratched). Instead of an ERM sub-body, there was Glass Reinforced Plastic (GRP) – still synthetic, if not quite the innovation that had been hoped for. De Lorean himself remained optimistic that the company might switch to ERM eventually. On the GRP sub-bodies were hung brushed the stainless steel panels, with end caps that color-matched the wheels as opposed to the rest of the body. Matching the plastic caps to the stainless steel had proven difficult. The gullwing doors would survive but, as space within the doors became fairly limited due to re-engineering late into the process, only the small inset in the side windows rolled down. De Lorean, much like Preston Tucker, was continually optimistic in the face of overwhelming odds. “I have no regrets,” he said in October, 1979, as his car neared launch.

6 MOTOR, October 1982 7 Automotive News, March 9th, 1981

“I remember a shiny new factory swarming with Irish workers, some from families that hadn’t had a working head of household for three generations” – Mike Knepper, director of public relations, De Lorean Motor Cars, Ltd.


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“Entrepreneur, as the word is often translated, has a devil-may-care flair. But a successful entrepreneur is a careful planner, a thoughtful analyst, a hard-nosed pragmatist. After you’ve touched all those bases, you can afford the luxury of being daring.”

Despite the set-backs, De Lorean had a brand new plant to tout. South-west Belfast in 1981 might have seemed an odd place to build an automobile, but it was indeed just six miles from this capital of Northern Ireland, in Dunmurry, that John Z. De Lorean established a 650,000 square foot factory after considering sites in Puerto Rico; Spain, Kansas, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Texas, Virginia, Detroit, and Ireland. Northern Ireland may have had a reputation for ocean liners (ominously enough, the Titanic) and merchant ships, and may have had aircraft industry ties, but until 1978, the factory site had been little more than a cattle pasture in an area beset with strife.

Knut Grimsrud of the De Lorean Club of Oregon (http://www.dmcnews.com) notes that general unemployment in Northern Ireland at the time was at 11%, “though some put Catholic rates

Against all odds, De Lorean production began in March, 1981


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closer to 40-50%.” The pre-Thatcher British government wanted to solve the unemployment problem, and De Lorean offered a way that this, through subsidies, might be achieved. In turn, De Lorean was convinced that the government was getting its money’s worth. “Our grant level in Belfast averages 35-37%,”8 he told Autocar.

“To put that in perspective, the government offered 50% to Nissan to start up in Wales and Ford got 50% for their engine plant there. I don’t think that we were given anything unusual.”

De Lorean also maintained he would have received 80% to the 20% his $40 million financing represented, had he built in the U.S. That said, $60.7 million was offered to De Lorean by the U.S. Department of Commerce to build in Puerto Rico, on the basis of the $25 million De Lorean had raised at the time. Detroit was said to have offered $48.2 million on the same amount. Also, the July, 1978 deal brokered with the British government was certainly better than anything that the later Margaret Thatcher-led government – decidedly too preoccupied with caning Britain’s automotive industry to lend an outsider money to start their own - would have offered.

8 Autocar, March 14th, 1981


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Production of the car, scheduled to begin in 1978, finally started in March of 1981 after a Geneva Motor Show launch. “I remember a shiny new factory swarming with Irish workers, some from families that hadn’t had a working head of household for three generations,”9 Mike Knepper, former De Lorean director of public relations, wrote for Car and Driver in a June, 1993 remembrance of the venture. Dunmurry sits between Catholic and Protestant districts, yet much was made at the time of the ability of both to work together. Absenteeism was an enviable 1.3%. 3,500 people were employed at the factory’s peak, for an estimated capacity of 30,000 vehicles, annually. Initially, they were to assemble vehicles, with only the GRP sub-bodies built on-site; manufacturing, thought De Lorean, would come later, as the company became more self-sufficient. Despite delays, the fact remained that De Lorean, a man from a land whose only sports car was the Corvette, had independently managed to get a sports car designed, built, and safety and emissions approved. That said, the De Lorean was European in its engineering, even if its execution had an unmistakable American swagger – a swagger that saw DMC President (and former Vice Chairman of Chrysler) Eugene Cafiero tell Automotive News, “just go out and mention the Japanese to these people.

“They’ll say, Goddammit, we’re going to demonstrate that Irish Ulstermen can build a car better than the Japanese.”10

That swagger held that an engine which overhung beyond the rear axle represented a layout that could be tuned to provide steady-state understeer. Prototypes, it seems interesting to note, were mid-engined. Originally intended for reasons of crush-space, the layout had seen its engine be pushed further rearward when the PRV V6 was introduced to the project. Yet, indeed, steady-state understeer could be achieved and, on the road, the De Lorean has an appeal beyond the Hollywood cult status of the Back to the Future movies. The 35/65 weight distribution had been pushed forward slightly from the original 32/68 of Collins’ prototype and, though it remained a somewhat odd layout, the car was tuned to match it. Brakes were adapted for the weight distribution, with 10.5-inch discs on the rear and 10-inchers up front. The De Lorean would stop from 60mph in 158 ft; from 80 mph, in 260 ft (both

9 Car and Driver, June 1993 10 Automotive News, March 9th, 1981


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according to Road & Track). We should note that Motor Trend managed a stop from 60 mph in 144 ft, beating the Corvette; Ferrari Mondial, and Maserati Merak. Although the light front end made for difficult winter-weather handling, the De Lorean understeered progressively in regular driving, in part thanks to large, 235/60-15 rear tires and comparatively smaller 195/60-14 front tires. Smaller-still 185-section tires had been tried at the front, but were rejected due to too great an attitude change in corners under power. Rear track on the prototype had been 0.2 inches wider than the front track, but was adjusted to 0.1 inches under front track on the production model for insurance against terminal oversteer. Interestingly, the front anti-roll bar, at 0.75 inches, was quite thin (and note that the prototype had used stabilizers on both front and rear). Some criticized the stabilizer for not being sufficient to counter dartiness under heavy braking. It was enough, however, to keep front roll stiffness relatively high; important, given the De Lorean’s 7-inch suspension travel (deferential to ride quality and likely gleaned from the French). At issue, however, was the weight: 2,743 lbs. The engine provided for 130hp @ 5,500rpm, and 162lb-ft @ 2,750rpm. This would have been fine at the 2,220 lb original target weight, and better yet with the 155hp the European variant was capable of without American emissions strangulation, but the fact was that the De Lorean, as produced, did not have the performance to back up its looks. Road & Track timed it to 60mph in 10.5 seconds, while attaining 19.5 mpg. Keep in mind, though, that Popular Science was getting a contemporary Corvette to 60mph in 8.4 seconds, and a Mazda RX-7 in 11.8 seconds. The factory played with ideas of a twin-turbo variant from Legend Industries (who, formerly Windblown, were responsible for the Fiat Turbo Spider), but it never materialized. Ever the optimist, De Lorean later attempted to use the commonality to get Peugeot, Renault, and Volvo to each distribute the car in Europe. Mind you, CAR had the same idea, noting that “Renault are in the process of making a big push into North America after an abortive attempt in the ‘60s to sell their rear-wheel-drive cars there.

“They are also heavily involved in motor sport throughout the world, as a publicity aid. “The DMC-12, if it succeeds, could be just the sort of up-market image car which Renault dealers in the States would love to have in their showrooms, and to service. “What a jolly jape for the Parisians – get an American millionaire to do the work, get the British government to take the financial risks, and then take what benefits are required for the further glory of the state.”11

11 CAR, February 1979


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Meanwhile, De Lorean fully intended to eventually produce his own motors. “The primary reason that we used existing engines for our first car,” he explained to Autocar, “is that I don’t believe that the engine of today is the engine of tomorrow, and it would be silly to tool up for an engine that would be obsolete in 10 years’ time.”12 125 mph was said to be possible, thanks to tall gears. Ever-ridiculous CAFÉ legislation had forced De Lorean to use such gearing (placing Renault’s fifth as its fourth, and offering a desperately tall 0.82:1 overdrive fifth) and, certainly, it helped with the EPA ratings: 19/29 city/ highway for the manual (city mileage being about four miles to the gallon lower than De Lorean had wanted), and 19/25 for the automatic. Yet there was no denying that the engine could have used more power, and the gearbox and conservative 3.44:1 final drive simply emphasized it. That the gearbox was a touch clunky for a sports car did not help matters; Renault gearboxes, if pleasant when cruising, never did like being rushed or forced. Steering was 2.4 turns, lock-to-lock (down from the prototype’s 3.2), but – even so - no power assistance was required, again, thanks to the weight distribution. Although with obvious negative-offset that lightened considerably toward full-lock, it self-centered reliably and offered good feel.

Six-foot-four De Lorean had been insistent on fitting comfortably in the padded cabin, so there was more space than expected and tilt-and-telescope steering. 14 cubic feet of storage was

12 Autocar, March 14th, 1981


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available; not too shabby for a grand tourer. Ergonomically, there were signs of Renault controls – particularly in the turn signal/ horn stalk – but things were otherwise either conventional, or pleasant. Unlike with the Renault-designed 1988-1992 Eagle Premier sedan (another car which used a variant of the PRV V6 engine), the stalk found owners that were happy to adapt. Car and Driver called the interior “wonderful” in its optional pewter-gray tone.

“You fold in and do De Lorean’s version of a Nautilus exercise with the tug-down door strap and all at once they are away in the distance out there and you are gloved in the car.”13

It was enough, said the magazine, to “bring all the special-edition designers in Detroit directly to their knees.” De Lorean must have been smiling at that one. Early cars showed a few fit-and-finish problems, particularly with the door seals which exacerbated wind noise, but the press largely gave the new company time to iron out the issues. “All things considered, the De Lorean performed reasonably well against this backdrop of all-stars,” wrote Tony Swan for Motor Trend’s December 1981 test which pit the new car against the Chevrolet Corvette; Ferrari Mondial; Maserati Merak, and Porsche 928.

“For a high competent, high-quality, highly unique profile piece that’ll get you there in comfort and enviable style, John Z’s dream car looks like something of a bargain.”

So it was time to send the cars to their primary market: the United States. Again, De Lorean had

installed talent in this important area, and it was one of the few aspects in which the odds should have been on his side. In June of 1976, C. Richard Brown had come over from being General Manager of Mazda of America to Vice President of De Lorean Motor Company, assisting with the creation of the 345-strong nationwide dealer organization. Over half of them were GM dealers who respected De Lorean from his earlier days. Dealers, and investors from Merrill Lynch to Johnny Carson, invested a total of $40 million. In

total, the dealers had committed to selling 26,000 cars, even though no production models had existed at this point. It should be noted that a tenth of the investment was De Lorean’s own money. He was less concerned about his financial risk as that to his reputation. 13 Car and Driver, December 1981


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“What a man is worth in this world is his reputation,” he mused, balancing this by his conviction that, “in this business, you’ve got to be tough. You’ve got to have guts.

“Determination is the key element.” Through the end of 1982, approximately 9,200 cars were manufactured: 6,640 1981 cars; 1,280 1982 models, and 1,250 ‘83s. It was a magnificent achievement for a startup company. To illustrate this, consider that fewer than 3,000 De Tomaso Pantera’s were sold through 200 Lincoln-Mercury dealerships in three years, a decade before the similarly exclusive De Lorean ventured on the scene. By the standards De Lorean had set himself and the sheer investment, however, the numbers were not good. The Securities and Exchange Commission had warned De Lorean of the risks, noting that no sports car costing more than $10,000 had sold over 20,000 units in the U.S. in 1976, even as De Lorean wanted to sell that number in its first year and yet at a substantially higher price. De Lorean’s car retailed for $25,000 ($25,650 with automatic), double what had been intended. Part of this owed to lavish (some say, Lotus-installed) standard equipment, including air conditioning; power windows, locks, and mirrors; stereo sound, and leather upholstery. The other pitfall was the exchange rate. De Lorean had not counted on the British pound jumping to $2.40, double what it was when the car had first been considered. Only six percent of the DMC’s supplier costs were in dollars, while a full fifty-four percent were in pounds (owing to the company’s desire, at the outset, to support its host’s industry); thirty-one percent in francs, and seven percent in Deutsche marks. Stamping stainless steel, too, is an expensive process. It was additional trouble on top of attempting to make little Lotus’ thought processes work on a scale approaching mass production. The doors were tricky items, requiring care in hanging. Quality Assurance Centers (dubbed quacks within the company) were set up in the U.S. to assist with post-production fit-and-finish issues with the doors. This was the De Lorean’s greatest problem in terms of workmanship, which was otherwise reasonable. Car and Driver predicted with confidence that workmanship would continue to improve, based on news of an informational visit to one Quality Assurance Center by 30 Irish assembly-line workers who had given up their vacations to attend14. Despite teething problems, durability would prove to be good (as several enthusiasts can vouch for today), particularly given the limited testing. Some things still caught DMC out, such as the potential for the throttle mechanism freezing due to condensation under the engine cover. Former De Lorean director of public relations Mike Knepper cites the fix as being a metal plate to shield the cable – “effective, but inelegant,”15 as he put it, and he suggests that its expediency was representative of the way DMC did things.

14 Car and Driver, December 1981 15 Car and Driver, June 1993


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That said, a California pharmacist was happy to tell Popular Mechanics’ 1982 owner survey that he was quickly given a new De Lorean after his first, pre-production model experienced problems. Another expressed satisfaction with DMC’s attempts to fix problems, including the retro-fitting of door-latch guides and door gaskets; the addition of an automatic mast antenna, and the availability of a pewter-gray interior to counter complaints of the first, heat-absorbing, black interior. “Obviously, John De Lorean listens and is trying to satisfy his customers,”16 he gushed. A full 82.8% of respondents gave workmanship either excellent or good ratings. 63.7% said they would buy another – low, perhaps, but Popular Mechanics expressed that this was qualified by assertions that people did not intend on replacing their cars. It is a tribute to Giugiaro that the car looked fresh at its launch, a full seven years after his original design was penned. The styling was, Popular Mechanics found in a 1982 owner survey, the key point of attraction for 75% of owners. As it became obvious that the sums had not been done correctly, DMC tried to save money in shipping, placing polystyrene on the corners of the cars and foam in the wheel arches rather than using containers. De Lorean himself remained convinced that the key to survival was another project, utilizing the excellent – and expensive – talent that the company had gathered. A four-door supercar – with, yes, four gullwing doors - was rumored for 1984, along with a convertible variant of the DMC-12. De Lorean wanted to eventually expand to 280,000-300,000 cars, annually, citing BMW and Mercedes-Benz as his inspiration for growth; and attention-to-detail, material, and environment sensitivity, respectively. Meanwhile, British tabloids began circulating rumors of financial abuse of government subsidies within DMC, largely fed by former De Lorean Executive Secretary Marian Gibson. Fraud was never proven, but the damage was done. CAR was less vicious than most, declaring that “neither De Lorean nor the cluster of high-powered, mainly ex-Chrysler executives he has gathered around him are con men.

“The project is exactly what it declared itself to be in the original presentation to the UK government and in the prospectus filed with the US Securities and Exchange Commission and offered to participating dealers. “It is a high-risk venture, in which all concerned were told they should be prepared to lose their investment.”17

16 Popular Mechanics, May 1982 17 CAR, April 1981

A rendition of what a Giugiaro-designed four-door De Lorean might have looked like


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“We’ve tried to maintain our ethical posture,”18 De Lorean emphasized, alternately citing the potential of the venture and the 1.5 fewer barrels of oil that a De Lorean cost to produce, relative to competitors. The press was initially supportive. “So much has been achieved that it would be churlish to do anything other than wish the project every success,”19 MOTOR mused. “Whatever you write, you must be charitable… it’s a big undertaking,”20 Corvette legend Zora Arkus-Duntov told Car and Driver of the De Lorean in 1977. “The De Lorean has the makings of an extremely desirable sports car,” chimed in Stirling Moss himself after a test-drive, noting that “the task of designing; developing, and producing a new motor car is fraught with every kind of risk and problem,” and concluding that “the details that need improvement, such as the fit and finish of certain body and trim parts, are trivial, indeed, compared to problems that had already been solved.”21 Yet the goodwill was about to turn, even as De Lorean attempted to keep things going and people paid out of his own pocket (as per PR Director Mike Knepper). The tide change was assisted considerably by De Lorean’s having embroiled himself in charges of money laundering, an effort to keep the ailing DMC afloat through between $50 million and $70 million worth of debt. Addressing a piece of folklore that has been unfortunately resurrected in recent days by the media, Knut Grimsrud of the De Lorean Club of Oregon writes that “neither the cars, nor the company, nor the man had anything to do with the movement of drugs,” citing several books which have dealt with the topic. De Lorean was acquitted of drug-trafficking charges in August 1984, and of federal fraud charges in December 1986. By the time it was over, allegations of IRA involvement and sting operations filled the newspapers. De Lorean claimed that he had attempted to back out of the investment offered by a government informant upon learning that it was financed by narcotics, but that the operative had then threatened the life of his daughter. It was all a sad end. On October 25th, 1982, the Belfast factory closed its doors. Today, aircraft-builder Short and French company Montupet make wheels and aluminum engine components in one-third of the factory, with two-thirds of it idle. Nearly a quarter century after the first De Loreans appeared and the length of the body panels’ British Steel warranty against corrosion, the De Lorean Owners Association helps with parts, service, and technical assistance. De Lorean One, at 1-800-DMC-HELP, supplies parts, and reportedly does good business. De Lorean owners tend to be loyal, and seem to enjoy driving their cars – a continuation of a pragmatic philosophy that seems to have been prevalent since the car’s launch. Only 17.8% of

18 Automotive News, March 9th, 1981 19 MOTOR, February 21st, 1981 20 Car and Driver, July 1977 21 Populat Mechanics, June 1981


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surveyed owners told Popular Mechanics in 1982 that they had purchased their cars as an investment. De Lorean himself attempted at least one venture in recent years, a car dubbed Firestar 500 and backed by Gordon Novel (an associate of Kennedy assassination investigator Jim Garrison), but he sadly failed to attract investors or subsidies (Ohio and Louisiana sites were considered), largely due to the widespread belief that the De Lorean Motor Company had continued to trade even knowing that it was insolvent. De Lorean himself drove an Acura NSX (perhaps because it was the first car since his own to follow the principles of larger rear tires, with respect to the front?) Still intrigued by the industry, and occasionally active as a commentator, he expressed admiration for the DaimlerChrysler merger in a Detroit News piece three years go, noting that “Mercedes-Benz has no alternative now but to keep Chrysler alive and make it what it ought to be – a pretty good company.

“It’s a long-range program.”22 De Lorean had harsh words for both Saturn and Oldsmobile; on the former, “what should have been done when they wanted to show the world GM could build a quality car is start with Chevy or Olds or Buick.” As for Oldsmobile, “to announce that you are going to discontinue the oldest car line in America and announce it two years ahead of time is unbelievable. Now, GM is spending a fortune in advertising to convince people to buy that car.” De Lorean also took a parting shot at outgoing GM North American Operations Head Ron Zarrella. “Whatever Zarrella did was wrong. You can’t sell cars like they are contact lenses.

“To the average buyer, a car is second only to his home as the most significant purchase in a lifetime.”

It is a quote we have often cited in recent years. De Lorean made his mark on the industry both within it, and outside of it. He understood trends, and thrilled in predicting them. When GM began turning down his suggestions – including making restyling decisions earlier in the production cycle, and model changeovers at night and on weekends to keep plant shutdowns at a minimum - he decided to try things himself. De Lorean was a master of visibility. Wherever he went, the media followed. Would DMC be the first new American, mass-production automotive company to succeed in fifty-five years? Today, thanks in part to the Back to the Future appearances, and in part to the story’s notoriety, the car remains among the most recognizable, period, by enthusiasts and non-enthusiasts alike. 22 Detroit News, June 6th, 2002


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Yet De Lorean, much though he might have been larger than life, could not control economic circumstances, nor interest and exchange rates. The stress of having to get the product right first time around proved too much for an upstart company. Even in the early days of DMC, he freely admitted that raising money in the traditional world of corporate finance was not his forte, telling Esquire, “when you’re running a division of Chevrolet and you need a new $220 million plant in Tonawanda, all you have to do is write a memo.”23 His charm and highly creative marketing skills were instrumental in getting the project off the ground. The latter, however, may have been his downfall. Although the Securities Exchange Commission placed De Lorean under restrictions that prohibited him from talking to the media until spoken to, everyone wanted to talk to the former GM star about his new car. De Lorean, of course, was happy to talk (unlike Malcolm Bricklin and much like Preston Tucker). It was a refreshing change from much of the automotive industry at the time (and, indeed, perhaps even today). The car became something of a self-fulfilling prophecy. Ultimately, the media that built up the De Lorean took it down, perhaps because they, themselves, had become disillusioned. For a man who tended to believe his own press, the descent was crushing. “We wanted people to be able to buy a car which they truly liked and then keep it year after year,

much as one does one’s home,” De Lorean wrote in that warm letter to De Lorean owners almost twenty-five years ago. It was part of the ethical ideology; a car that did not change year-to-year simply for the sake of it, but was instead one that practiced continuous improvement at the behest of the engineers whose skills much of the media and motoring public held in such high regard. Like Henry Ford, De Lorean offered

his car in only one color (and, also like Henry Ford, in stainless steel – albeit that the parallel here refers to at little-known 1936 one-off stainless steel Ford). With his ambitious project, he seemed for a time to have conquered the idea of planned obsolescence, even though this success may have been due to the startup nature of his venture. In the words of a Florida interior designer responding to Popular Mechanics’ owner survey, conducted in happier times, “I believe in a man trying to fulfill his dream.

“Mr. De Lorean didn’t have to do this to further his career or for financial gain. He wanted to build a better product. “He found he had to make concessions, but don’t we all?

23 Esquire, June 19th, 1979

Stainless steel De Lorean with stainless steel, one-off, 1936 Ford


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“I think his first attempt is good, and I’ve demonstrated my faith by buying his car. He and his people were intimately involved in the production process from beginning to end. There’s continuity and inventiveness on his side. John De Lorean put himself on the line, and his heart in the car.”24

That personal travails continued to hound a man who brought such a personal side to business must have been difficult. Yet De Lorean could justifiably claim to have succeeded in independently entering the world of mass production and marketing against impossible odds. Many, many others have tried and failed before ever reaching this step, and many more mainstream manufacturers have lost more than the $196.7 million that was ultimately swallowed by De Lorean Motor Company. Corrected for inflation, Ford lost almost $1 billion on the Edsel by comparison, as Popular Mechanics noted in March, 1983, adding Chrysler’s 1934-1937 Airflow; Lincoln’s Continental Mark II, and Cadillac’s ‘30s V12, V16, and 1957-1958 Eldorado Brougham to this list. At the De Lorean’s launch, Autocar noted, “no matter what the world may ultimately come to record concerning the De Lorean car, there is no denying the magnitude of its creator’s achievement.”25 Indeed, sounding the company’s death knoll little more than year later, Tony Swan graciously wrote in Motor Trend, “I believe that De Lorean created a viable – albeit somewhat inflated – enterprise with the monies entrusted to him.

“And I believe further that he was probably the only guy with the combination of savvy and guts who could have made it happen. I guess they’ll never forgive him for that.”

Despite the press’ tendency to set the bar higher and higher as De Lorean Motor Company foundered, De Lorean’s is an achievement of which we remain in awe. John Z. De Lorean gave the industry so much while he worked within it, then turned around and added his own personal stamp, lending innovation and intrigue in varying measures. The stamp is indelible; the car will never be forgotten, and nor will Mr. De Lorean.

24 Popular Mechanics, May 1982 25 Autocar, June 13th, 1981

Documents

John Z. De Lorean - AutomoBear.com - John Z De Lorean.pdf · John Z. De Lorean - 1 - John Z. De Lorean January 6th, 1925 – March 19th, 2005 “The purchase of a revolutionary new