Six years before Sergio Leone and Clint Eastwood made one of the greatest spaghetti westerns in cinema history with ‘The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly,’ a similar move came from Chrysler Corporation. Not a silver screen blockbuster, but a Silver Chrysler New Yorker convertible – one of just 556 units built that year. The New Yorker was Chrysler’s top-of-the-line for the eponymous division, and it came in as The Quick, The Strong, The Quiet.
Less than 3% of the Chrysler New Yorker production came with a retractable rack and a cloth above the seats, immediately making the convertibles even more attractive than the rest of the line. And that is saying something, considering what the 1960 models had to offer to the American public.
The Forward Look design paradigm implemented by Virgil Exner – Chrysler Corporation’s head of design – matured and strong in the first year of the sixties but still held on to some reminiscent elements that glorified the second half of the previous decade. Tailfins – a signature of automobile design in the Eisenhower era – were gradually getting out of style.
Consequently, they were getting smaller – but Exner had other ideas. Instead of going like the rest of the Detroit crowd to a flat-panel fashion for the body, Chrysler kept the air-plane-tributing design. The rear fenders had crests that extended not only upward but also outboard. Seen from behind, the taillights of a 1960 Chrysler New Yorker look like boomerangs.
The looks might have been a memory of the 50s, but the cars were changing dramatically under the skin. The body-on-frame platform was getting dated, and the Unibody construction was credited with sound rigidity and strength. Perhaps sound isn’t the most appropriate attribute here since Chrysler boasted of the lack of it. Thanks to the single, robust, and rattle-free unit, the ride was exceptionally deprived of squeaks and squeals.
Chrysler advertisers appraised the science of silence as a heart-felt experience, stating that the occupants would hear little more than their heartbeats while driving a 1960 Chrysler automobile. This is a classic example of public relations exaggerations, especially considering the New Yorker and its muscle-flexing big-block V8.
Introduced a year before, the 413 cubic-inch (6.8-liter) ‘Golden Lion’ engine was not exactly silent. In fact, hear it in the video, where a surviving example of a rare convertible fires the eight cylinders without hesitation. The wedge motor was the second most powerful in Chrysler’s lineup, at 350 hp and 470 lb-ft (355 PS, 637 Nm), after the famous dual four-barrel cross-ram in the 300F.
The owner of this car has been the happy proprietor of this extraordinary rarity for the past two decades – being a Mopar guy since he first started to tell cars apart when he was a little boy. His vehicle looks finger-snapping good with magnificent looks inside out. The big Chrysler was just as enticing to sit in as it was to look at.
The three-speed automatic transmission and the rest of the instrumentation paid homage to the jet age while bowing to the booming sensation of the world in the seventh decade: the space-going adventure. Pushbutton everything, a three-dimensional AstraDome Panelescent instrument panel, and eight-way front seats – what more could one ask for in 1960?
Some viewers of the video – make that “everyone” – would take this Sheffield Silver New Yorker over any of the contemporary offerings from any automaker. And who can argue against this choice? How many cars today have seats that greet the driver and passenger and swivel outside to make getting in easier?
Chrysler did that six decades ago; the seats would automatically turn toward the door when it was opened. Alternatively, a manual mechanism would do the same, with a simple push of the lever (see it in the video at the 5:30 mark). The automatic swivel seats came later in the model year, so this early build has a simple system.
Chrysler’s designers might have outdone themselves with the 1960 New Yorker, but they didn’t know when to stop (or got carried away by the drawing and clay-modeling frenzy; they didn’t want to call it a day). The convertible we see here sports a perfectly useless but otherwise cool-looking simulated trunk lid indentation that mimics the spare wheel cover.
The sixth wheel sits neatly in the cargo bay but is not attached to the ‘Flight-Sweep’ deck lid. If anything, the ‘Continental kit’ ornament was there to remind buyers that the New Yorker could take on four passengers and their luggage and stop 500 miles (800 kilometers) later that same day—something this very car might have done at one time in its 78,514-mile-long existence (126,330 km).