From the December 2000 Issue of Car and Driver.
Someday, when—and if—Cadillac has successfully completed its renaissance, we may look back on this vehicle as the beginning of the comeback, the vehicle that marked the restoration of America’s one-time standard for the world to the first rank of prestigious transportation providers. Wow, huh?
If this comes to pass—and the new Escalade looks like an impressive cornerstone for the rebuilding program—it will be a chapter exceptionally rich in ironies. For openers, there’s the delicious image of a long-established purveyor of luxury cars being towed back from the brink of obscurity by a truck. And the image is even more marvelous viewed against the backdrop of the first Escalade, a flabby, shameless badge job hastily rushed to market at the behest of unhappy SUV-less Cadillac dealers, who were dismayed at the astounding initial success of the Lincoln Navigator. The hurried launch followed a terse statement by General Motors president Jack Smith and then marketing czar Ron Zarrella to the effect that a sport-utility vehicle was not consistent with the image GM had mapped out for its prestige division. Therefore, there would not be a Cadillac sport-ute. No way. Ha.
The time that elapsed between those denials and the hastily cobbled 1999 Escalade, which rolled out in mid-1998, was roughly 18 months, an interval that Cadillac later cited as an example of GM’s improving ability to reduce development time. Sure.
The second-generation Escalade, however, is a whole nuther story, with some traits that look to be best in class and a total package that could come to be regarded as the best of the sybaritic bigs. We’ll need to round up the latest black-tie brute-utes for a show-and-tell comparison test, but here’s what we know so far.
The new Escalade has more power than anything else in the large luxury class, and by a bunch. In four-wheel-drive trim, its GM 6.0-liter pushrod Vortec 6000 V-8 is rated at 345 hp and 380 pound-feet of torque. (We make the four-wheel-drive distinction because the new two-wheel-drive editions are propelled by GM’s 5.3-liter V-8, worth 285 hp and 325 pound-feet.)
Lincoln’s Navigator now trails in the output derby with 300 hp and 355 pound-feet from its 5.4-liter DOHC 32-valve V-8. That leaves the Navigator in third, because the new GMC Yukon Denali weighs in with 320 hp and 365 pound-feet of torque from a slightly lower-compression edition of the Escalade’s 6.0-liter (a ratio of 9.4:1 vs. 10.0:1). The other jumbo luxury SUVs—the Range Rover, the Toyota Land Cruiser, the Lexus LX470—don’t even register on the more-than-300-hp radar screen.
Weighing in at 5662 pounds, the four-wheel-drive Escalade is among the portliest of these posh pachyderms—122 pounds heavier than the first-born Escalade—but as always, adding more power works wonders. The last Escalade we tested (“Javelinas Grandes,” May 1999) needed 10.2 seconds to wheeze to 60 mph, covered the quarter-mile in 17.6 seconds at 78 mph, and required 25.4 seconds to hit 90 mph. This new Escalade reached 60 mph from a standstill in 7.8, knocked 1.6 seconds off its predecessor’s quarter-mile time, and registered 90 mph on the speedo in 18.1 seconds. And all those acceleration numbers best the ones posted by the Navigator.
Thanks to an all-new, all-disc brake system, this king-size Caddy stops from 70 mph in 207 feet, compared with 220 feet for the original and 222 for the Navigator. And it delivers all these dynamic improvements while making less noise and providing more comfort, augmented once again by the unique fragrance of Cadillac’s trademark Nuance perforated-leather upholstery. All automotive hides should smell as good as this.
There’s more to the dynamic story. Besides its firm foundations, the new Escalade, like the Chevy Tahoe, the GMC Yukon, and the Yukon Denali, rides on GM’s GMT800 truck chassis, and it gets the luxury division’s entire bag of electronic ride and stability-control tricks, including a new reverse warning system (“ultrasonic rear parking assist,” or URPA) and a variable damping system capable of adjusting the shocks up to 1000 times per second. The system provides a supple ride on all surfaces and makes this Escalade far easier to shepherd around corners than the original, particularly on smooth pavement. However, there’s still a fair amount of up-and-down motion, and we’re not entirely convinced that the electro-damping approach is better than the more traditional and slightly firmer suspension tuning on the new Denali. On the other hand, we’d be surprised if any owner subjected an Escalade to the kind of handling extremes imposed as a normal part of our test regimen.
Similarly, we don’t expect to see Escalade owners trundling around on desert rockscapes or in backwoods bogs. Neither does Cadillac. That’s why the Escalade’s four-wheel-drive system operates full time—there are no transfer-case shift levers, no low-range gear, no locking differentials, no buttons to push—and delivers 38 percent of the engine’s output to the front wheels, 62 percent to the rear. Presuming no one will be tackling any rough-and-tumble terrain, the combination of four-wheel drive, StabiliTrak, and 10.7 inches of ground clearance should be more than equal to the demands of most owners. One of those demands, of course, will be towing, and as you’d expect, the Escalade can handle some pretty hefty trailering: 8500 pounds (7700 for the two-wheel-drive version).
Inside, Cadillac has done a nice job of blending the new—sporty instrument graphics, automatic climate control, vastly improved secondary switchgear—with the familiar: Zebrano wood trim, that fragrant leather, a superb Bose Acoustimass sound system, and a squarish look to the dashboard that’s a little out of step with contemporary organic designs, but it does make a nice visual bridge to the past.
That bridge may be important, because the outside of the Escalade, particularly its grille, is anything but familiar — unless you’ve been tracking Cadillac’s Evoq sports car. If so, then this radical front end will be a useful bridge to where the division’s styling appears to be headed.
Whatever your reaction to this look—we’re about equally divided—you have to admit it doesn’t leave you sitting on the fence, and in automotive styling, that’s half the battle. The other half is avoiding something that eliminates the fence sitters but puts everyone on the wrong side of the wall. Can you say Pontiac Aztek?
Something else that’s certain: Whatever the stylists achieve, in this class more power is gonna make it look more better. Viewed from that perspective, we think the Escalade looks pretty damn good.
Counterpoint
It’s a hunk. Now, if you’re a guy, that’s a compliment. But if you’re one of those gas-hogging, planet-depleting SUVs, well, it’s not so cool. Ten-and-a-half-year-old dog Wolfie had a heck of a time jumping into the Escalade. The middle-row entry space is surprisingly narrow between the seat cushion and the door frame, so he had to hop into the front seat and walk over the console into the back. Thankfully, though, roadholding on my daily home-run sweeper seemed really stable for such a beast. It’s a Cadillac, and thus luxuriously appointed. But the computer told me the previous driver had gotten 8.5 mpg. Ouch! Let your conscience be your guide, I guess. —Patti Maki
Ready or not, here it comes — Cadillac’s edgy new techno-look. Does it work? Yes. This new giant no longer looks like anything else on planet earth. Nor does it drive like anything else, really. It offers power, performance and even—gulp—handling that outpaces its own GMC Denali siblings and (more important) fairly whoops up on the Lincoln Navigator. Is it a great vehicle? Nope. It’s gigantic and expensive, yet its huge console and dash are slathered in cheesy fake zebra wood (the real thing graces the steering wheel and door trim), and the third-row seating is both hard to access and uncomfortable to sit in. Make mine a Toyota Land Cruiser or loaded Sequoia. —Frank Markus
While the rest of the Cadillac models are chasing the Germans, the Escalade is decidedly “old school”—as in it proudly flaunts its Cadillac heritage. Unfortunately for Cadillac, my 30-year-old brain thinks Cadillac’s heritage is floaty rides, finger-light steering with less feel than a good arcade game, and mushy brakes. All these traits are well-represented in the Escalade, which makes me think the Escalade is meant to keep some of Caddy’s core (read, aging) customers happy. Although I liked the quiet interior and the way the thick-chested engine moved the car with ease, I hated the way it pitched and bobbed when changing direction. —Larry Webster
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Source: Reviews - aranddriver.com
