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In the late 1990s, Cadillac had a problem. The storied brand had become basically irrelevant to anyone outside of the Florida set, so a handful of new, inventive products were hastily drawn up in an attempt to revitalize the brand image. One was the immensely successful Escalade, which was just a Chevrolet Tahoe in a dinner jacket. No matter, it had presence and space, so it sold. The other was the Catera, and while it was an alright car, GM’s North American strategy completely failed to recognize what it was. Welcome back to GM Hit or Miss, where we sift through the sludge of GM’s pre-bankruptcy lineup. It’s not a glamorous job, but someone has to do it.
We start our journey in Germany circa 1994, when Opel rebooted its large Omega sedan for its second generation. With its driven wheels in the rear, an available V6 engine up front, and an interior a cut above American GM fare of the time, it shouldn’t be a surprise that Opel’s executive sedan was well-received. This was a critically acclaimed car, scooping up awards like the RJC Import Car of the Year trophy in Japan for 1995.
Over in America, Cadillac executives took one look at Opel’s handiwork, thought “hmm, that might do,” and decided to test the car’s reception with a 1994 show version called the LSE. While some major styling elements would be carried over to production, some thankfully wouldn’t. The Eldorado-like wheels were horrid, and Cadillac’s designers still believed that American luxury was a thin, glaring veneer of saccharine sleaze, so a massive egg-crate grille was unceremoniously grafted onto the Omega’s face. Still, it was a step in the right direction, and the public likely didn’t completely balk, because the production version would arrive shortly after.
From Germany, With Love
In 1996, the Cadillac Catera rolled into showrooms looking virtually identical to the LSE concept. The few changes included tasteful five-spoke wheels in place of the LSE’s awful units, the side mirrors’ bases were finished in unpainted plastic, the door handles were now curvy, and the grille was chromed. Mercilfully, the tacky chrome strip that ran around the LSE’s body trim was banished. The production Catera was a subtle improvement over the concept, a refreshing thing in a world of watered-down final models.
Well, it was an improvement save for one thing. Why the fucking hell did Cadillac give it plastic bumperettes? Were they dense? Were they permanently trapped in the 1970s? Nothing else in the segment had bumperettes, so the Catera shouldn’t have sported them either. Nevertheless, a pair of zits weren’t enough to ruin the Catera. Nobody had ever seen a Cadillac like it, and it showed.
In Europe, the Opel Omega was positioned as a BMW 5 Series competitor, a job it did admirably. In America, however, competition wasn’t quite as direct. In 1997, Motor Trend compared it to the Lexus ES300 and Mitsubishi Diamante, which is a head trip if ever I’ve seen one. The Lexus was likely cross-shopped against the Catera, but the Mitsubishi? I’m not so sure about that. Unsurprisingly, the Cadillac did well in that test, with Motor Trend remarking:
Cadillac is banking on its newest model to carve out a chunk of the meaty mainstream luxury market, and based on our experience in several Cateras during the past few months, it should do a good job at that task. Supported by one of the largest dealer networks in the luxury market and nicely outfitted with standards, the Catera is a high-value new contender. Firmer and sportier in feel than either the Lexus or Mitsubishi (or most other cars in the class), the smallest Caddy retains a distinctly European flavor.
Sounds like a promising car, right? Indeed, Car And Driver shared similar sentiments to Motor Trend in a preview drive of an early model.
Those attracted by the Catera’s value will likely find satisfaction in the driving experience it provides. And when the Catera replaces the Fleetwood in Cadillac’s lineup next fall, it will shift the division’s center of gravity a long way from traditional to contemporary. It’s about time.
Yep, this was a long-overdue machine unlike any other Cadillac of the time, and it was European to the core. From the oddball 54-degree V6 engine to the chassis to the bulk of the interior, the Catera was an Omega, something that Detroit simply couldn’t have made at the time. Unfortunately, facing the prospects of promoting an almost completely foreign product, GM’s ad people displayed complete ineptitude, missing the mark by a country mile.
Death By Advertising
You know what tagline the American ad execs came up with for the Catera? I shit you not, it was “The Caddy that Zigs.” Look, I know the 1990s was a weird decade that included a year where people got weirdly into Gregorian chants, but that’s just too wacky.
Look, I’m going to level some baseline shit with you. In communication, the pillars of persuasion are ethos, pathos, and logos, ancient Greek loan words for character, emotion, and logical rhetoric, respectively. A strategy that leans into ethos builds credibility and trust, a strategy that leans into pathos should elicit an emotional response from the viewer, and a strategy that leans into logos should rationalize the product or service in the eyes of the consumer. “The Caddy that zigs” uses pathos, but completely misses the mark of the audience.
The sort of person spending $29,995 in the mid-’90s on a luxury sedan probably isn’t looking for something whimsical. We’re talking about experience working professionals, typically in management, who likely completed higher education, are currently married, and have children at home. Well-read, well-adjusted, responsible consumers, in essence. With this sort of customer, ethos and logos are safe bets, but pathos generally works better if marketers lean into desires like status, luxury, and performance in a serious manner. Let’s look at a decent ad from a period competitor so you see what I mean.
Here’s an ad for the 1992 Lexus ES 300, and it plays it straight and balanced. “Revise your E.T.A” is a great hook than leans on pathos, and it’s backed up by copy dripping in features to rationalize the Lexus and mention of an award that speaks to the product’s character. It’s not the most thrilling ad ever, but it does the trick, hooks readers in, and lets them learn more.
Other than the base price, the make, and the model, this ad for the Catera tells the viewer absolutely nothing. What’s the feature set? What makes it the performance machine that the graphics suggest? What does it mean to zig? That’s an ambiguous term, and one that should’ve been avoided. Oh, and what’s that red thing next to the nameplate?
Well, that’s a mascot named Ziggy, a re-interpretation of a merlette from Cadillac’s badge. The merlettes? The ducks? That’s what they picked to market the Catera? Ziggy was a bad mascot, because it was thoroughly at odds with the midsize luxury car image. In the past thirty years of automotive advertising, there’s only been one good mascot, and that’s Volkswagen’s Fast, a malicious little embodiment of id that fit perfectly with the cheeky Mk.5 GTI. In contrast, Ziggy was irrelevant in print and downright bizarre on television.
Mind you, print and television campaigns aren’t the only way to market something. Celebrity association can be a big deal. Notice I said “association,” not “endorsement.” Paying a celebrity to be in a commercial comes across as a forced move, while brand integration seems more organic. It can happen purely on its own, or it can be paid placement, like good influencer marketing but before social media. The Escalade benefitted from this massively, with celebrities taking to the SUV right in time for the bling era to pop off. That casual celebrity endorsement built an impenetrable wall of cool around the Escalade, making it a gotta-have-it vehicle. After all, lots of people wanna be ballers and shot-callers, but aren’t quite down with putting 20-inch blades on Impalas. The Catera’s media endorsement? A joke on Chicago Hope, in the form of a character named Lisa Catera. Lease a Catera, get it? Unsurprisingly, this isn’t quite the same caliber of endorsement as, say, Jennifer Lopez name-dropping the Escalade in “Love Don’t Cost A Thing.”
[Ed Note: Akshully, there was a celebrity endorser: Cindy Crawford!]
Falling Flat
Great marketing can boost the appeal of a middling product, but bad marketing can kill a car’s appeal. The Cadillac Catera was a perfectly fine car that fell victim to a flat-out bad marketing campaign that failed to communicate the origin and benefits of the car in an appealing way. This wasn’t another Cimmaron, nor was it some downsized land barge for octogenarians. It was a perfectly competent European sedan that unfortunately exited production after 2001 without much dignity. It was neither a hit nor a miss, but a suitable vehicle torpedoed by lack of understanding. However, the Catera didn’t really die. Ever wondered what CTS as in Cadillac CTS stood for? Catera Touring Sedan. The more you know, right?
(Photo credits: Cadillac, Lexus)
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