Director

Director (pronounced dih-rek-ter or dahy-rek-ter)

(1) A person or thing that directs others or other things (Director of Engineering, Director of Sales etc).

(2) In corporate law, one of a group of persons chosen to control or govern the affairs of a company or corporation, usually as a member of a board of directors and sometimes also including executive functions.

(3) The person responsible for the interpretive aspects of a stage, film, or television production; the person who supervises the integration of all the elements, as acting, staging, lighting etc.

(4) In musical or other artistic productions (stage, art galleries, opera etc) one in charge of all artistic (and sometimes administrative) matters (in larger operations the roles sometimes specialized: sound director, script director etc).

(5) The manager or chief executive of certain schools, institutes, government bureaux etc.

(6) In military use, a mechanical or electronic device that continuously calculates firing data for use against an airplane or other moving target, configured usually graphically to display (in real-time) the targets of a weapons system.

(7) In chemistry, the common axis of symmetry of the molecules of a liquid crystal.

(8) In music, a synonym for conductor (US use, now less common).

(9) A counsellor, confessor, or spiritual guide (now less common).

1470-1480: The construct was direct(us) + -or.  A borrowing in the sense of “a guide” from the Anglo French directour & the French directeur the agent noun from the Latin dirigere (set straight, arrange; give a particular direction to) and its source, the Late Latin directorem, from the Latin dīrectus, the perfect passive participle of dīrigō (straighten, direct), the construct being dis- (asunder, in pieces, apart, in two) + regō (to direct, to guide, keep straight; make straight; rule), from the primitive Indo-European root reg (move in a straight line).  The -or suffix was from the Middle English -our, from the Old French -eor, from the Latin -ātor and reinforced by the Old French -or and its source, the Latin -tor & -tōrem.  It was used to create an agent noun, often from a verb, indicating a person or object (often machines or parts of them) that do the verb or part of speech with which they are formed.  In electrical engineering it has the specific use of being appended to the names of members of classes of components, especially those that have an extensive property name of the same root suffixed with -ance (eg to convey the sense that resistors possess resistance and inductors possess inductance).  The alternative spelling directour became rare in the late eighteenth century and is long obsolete.  Director, directorate & directorship are nouns, directing is a verb, directed is a verb & adjective, directorial is an adjective and directorially is an adverb; the noun plural is directors.  The feminine forms of the noun (directress & directrix) were always rare and are now thought extinct (and by some probably proscribed).

Lindsay Lohan with Spanish fashion designer Estrella Arch (b 1974), on the catwalk, Emanuel Ungaro's Spring-Summer show, Paris, October 2009.  Ms Lohan was employed as a creative director at the House, founded in 1965 by French fashion designer Emanuel Ungaro (1933–2019).

The noun director (corporate sense of “one of a number of persons having authority to manage the affairs of a company” was known as early as the 1630s; the theatrical sense of “the leader of a company of performers” dates from 1911 and it was from here the use was picked up by those in charge of the artistic or technical aspects of movie-making.  The noun directorship (condition or office of a director) has been in use since the 1720s, the adjective directorial known since 1770.  The noun directorate was used first in 1834 of “a body of directors” and may immediately have be used individually of the “office of a director” but this was certainly first documented in 1837.  Director is a word defined both by its history of use (film director, director of football etc) and law (company director) so although titles like supervisor, head, manager, leader, administrator, chief, boss etc certainly implies “one who directs”, they’re traditionally not used as direct synonyms because “director” is a “loaded word”.  It’s also modified as needed (art director, managing director, sub-director etc).

1967 Imperial Crown Coupe with "Mobile Director Package"; note the rearward facing front passenger seat.  

Although the brand had since the 1920s been used for some of Chrysler's more expensive lines, between 1955-1975, the corporation re-created Imperial as a separate, stand-alone division (albeit with some intra-corporate sharing of engines, transmissions and certain other components), the way Ford positioned Lincoln (GM's (General Motors) Cadillac then still with unique engines although much else was shared).  In the early years, the approach yielded some success (most notably with the dramatic 1957 models) but the separation didn’t survive the troubled decade of the 1970s (by which time the platform and body-shells were shared with the other divisions and much of the earlier distinctiveness had been surrendered); a couple of subsequent, half-heated, revivals proved abortive.

Bowing to economic reality, the Imperial in 1967-1968 had switched from the separate frame used since 1955 to the unitary construction of the full-sized ranges offered by other divisions but maintained a certain degree of difference by virtue of a unique body, albeit one with dimensions slightly reduced (not seen by all as a virtue at a time when things were again trending larger).  While styled with an elegance derived from its simplicity of line, the Imperial continued to not quite match the timeless modernity of the Lincoln or the indefinable but incomparable allure of the Cadillac and although sales did improve in 1967, volumes were only ever a fraction of its two competitors.  The basic engineering though was sound, the TorqueFlite 727 transmission as responsive and robust as any (although it didn’t quite slur as effortlessly between ratios as the Cadillac’s TH400 Turbo-Hydramatic 400) while the 440 cubic inch (7.2 litre) V8 was a notch better, something the others wouldn’t match until 1968.  Significantly, reviewers at the time often were prepared to acknowledge the Imperial was the more capable road car although, given it operated in a market where quietness and isolation from the environment were afforded more of a premium than handling prowess, among potential buyers, any perception of real-world advantage probably was marginal.

The more stylish if less roadable opposition: 1967 Cadillac Coupe DeVille (left) & 1967 Lincoln Continental Coupe (right).

In those years however, the Imperial did offer something truly unique.  The “Mobile Director Package” was available exclusively on the Imperial Crown Coupe and reflected (within the limits of what the available technology would then permit) what Chrysler thought a company director would most value in an automobile being used as a kind of “office on the move”, including (1) an extendable walnut-topped table (secured to the floor by a stainless-steel stanchion) able to be unfolded over the rear seats, (2) a Tensor high-intensity lamp with a gooseneck mount enabling the light to be directed anywhere in the cabin and, most intriguingly (3) a front passenger seat mounted on swivelling base enabling it to rotate 180°, the apparatus permitting someone comfortably to use the table and interact with those in the rear.  Conveniently, in a sign of the times, the car was supplied with four cigarette lighters and the lamp could be plugged into whichever was closest to need.  The package was available only for those two seasons and in its first years cost US$597.40 (some US$6,000 adjusted for 2026 values) but only 81 buyers ticked the option box and even reducing the price the next season to US$317.60 did little to stimulate demand; only 70 ordered as a dismal swansong.  Even if the threat of new safety regulations hadn’t been looming, it’s doubtful the Mobile Director Package would have appeared on the option list for 1969 when the new “fuselage” Imperials debuted.

Imperial's advertising always emphasised the "business" aspect of the package but the corporation also circulated a photograph of the table supporting a (presumably magnetic) chessboard and another with silver compote holding a shiny red apple and a bunch of grapes, dangling seductively.  The latter may have been to suggest the utility of the package when stopping for a picnic with one's secretary; at an advertising agency, once someone suggested using the motif of "forbidden fruit", nobody would have been able to resist.

The advertising copy at the time claimed the package was “designed for the busy executive who must continue his work while he travels”, serving also as “an informal conference lounge”.  The Imperial was a big car (previous generations had been larger still) though “lounge” was a bit of a stretch but “truth in advertising” laws were then not quite as onerous as they would become.  More accurate were the engineering details, the table able to “pivot to any of four different positions, supported by a sturdy chrome-plated pillar and in the forward position, it can convert into a padded armrest between the two front seats while extended, it opens out to twice its original size with a lever on the table swivel support to permit adjustments to the height”.  It was noted “a special tool is used for removing the table and storing it in the trunk” the unstated implication presumably that in deference to the secretary’s finger-nails, that would be a task for one’s chauffeur.  The US$597.40 the option listed at in 1967 needs to be compared with the others available and only the most elaborate of the two AC (air conditioning) systems was more expensive.

Imperial option list, 1967.

1967 Imperial Crown Coupe with Mobile Director Package.  Note seatbelt mounting point.

The publicity material associated with the Mobile Director Package did suggest the rearward-facing seat would likely be occupied by a director’s secretary and, as one might imagine, the configuration did preclude her (in 1967, secretaries almost always were women) using a seatbelt but she would always have been in arm’s reach of at least one cigarette lighter so there was that.  The (male) end of the front seatbelts sat on the sill panel, adjacent to the seat’s squab (back), a placement dictated by the need not to restrict access to the rear-compartment and that worked well for the standard coupe but, obviously, rendered the belt useless when the seat was rotated.  While Chrysler can be criticized for not providing rearward-facing secretaries with what’s now regarded as an essential safety feature, the rest of the US industry and legislatures (federal & state) were in 1967 little less cavalier.  While some state registration authorities had during the decade mandated the provision of seatbelts for front-seat passengers, no US jurisdiction then compelled their use.

The familiar modern three-point (lap & sash) seatbelt evolved in the late 1950s with much input from US designers but it was Swedish manufacturers that first made them universal (Scandinavia being often dark and icy, drivers sharing the roads with large elk).  The modern seatbelt design (conceptually unchanged to this day) is credited to Swedish mechanical engineer Nils Bohlin (1920–2002) who was employed by Volvo, the company making them a standard fitting in 1959, following the example of Saab that had added them the previous year.  During the 1960s, US states gradually imposed a requirement they be fitted until federal law mandated they be installed in all passenger vehicles produced after 1 January, 1968.  The laws requiring people actually to use the things proved more difficult to implement but other countries quickly made both fitment and use compulsory, initially only for those seated in the front but eventually this extended to all passengers.  Although examples existed early in the twentieth century (fitted often by those with experience in aviation) rudimentary seatbelts first appeared in US production cars during the 1950s but the manufacturers must have thought the public indifferent because their few gestures were tentative such as in 1956 when Ford had offered (as an extra-cost option) a bundle of safety features called the “Lifeguard Design” package that included:

(1) Padded dashboards (to reduce head injuries).

(2) Recessed steering wheel hub (to minimize chest injuries).

(3) Seat belts (front lap belts only)

(4) Stronger door latches (preventing doors flying open in a crash)

(5) Shatter-resistant rear-view mirror (reducing injuries caused by from broken glass).

In Western popular culture and advertising, there have been many friendly bears, including this one happily buckled-up with a “Ford seat belt. One third stronger than required for airliners.”

The standard features included (1) the Safety-Swivel Rear View Mirror, (2) the Deep-Center Steering Wheel with recessed post and bend-away spokes and (3) Double-Grip Door Latches with interlocking striker plate overlaps.  Optional at additional cost were (4) Seat Belts (single kit, front or rear, color-keyed, nylon-rayon with quick one-handed adjust/release aluminium buckle) (US$5).  There were also "bundles" (always popular in Detroit), “Safety Package A” consisting of a Padded Instrument Panel & Padded Sun Visors (US$18) while “Safety Package B” added to that Front-Seat Lap Seat Belts (US$27).  On the 1956 Thunderbird (with a significantly different interior design) the options were (1) the Lifeguard Padded Instrument Panel (US$22.65), (2) Lifeguard Padded Sun Visors (US$9) and (3) Lifeguard Seat Belts (US$14).

Years later, internal documents would be discovered revealing conflicts within the corporation, the marketing department opposed to any mention of "safety features" because that reminded potential customers of car crashes; they would prefer they focus on new colors, higher power outputs, sleek new lines and such.  So, with not much done to promote the “Lifeguard Design”, public demand was subdued and soon the option quietly was deleted.  At the time, apart from improving the quality of roads (resulting in higher average speeds with obvious implications) the government had done little about either safety or vehicle emissions but both the rising highway death toll and the worsening air quality in cities was attracting attention, meaning things would change, decades of legislation soon to unfold.  The first decisive step came as a provision in FMVSS 208 (Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standard No. 208) requiring all passenger cars manufactured from 1 January, 1968 onward be equipped with seatbelts at the designated seating positions though this was a federal manufacturing requirement, not a law requiring motorists to buckle up, something not imposed until 1984 when New York made their use mandatory, other states following the lead.

FMVSS emerged from the US NHSB (National Highway Safety Bureau (that in 1970 became the NHTSA (National Highway Traffic Safety Administration) under the newly created DOT (Department of Transportation), established by an act of Congress on 15 October, 1966 and beginning operation on 1 April, 1967).  That alphabet soup of activity in a field previously little explored by government came in the wake of the publication of Ralph Nader’s (b 1934) book Unsafe at any Speed (1965) documenting the flaws in the design and construction of US automobiles and industry’s indifference to the consequences.  Regulation ever since has been a growing industry, something emblematic of a theme in Western political culture since the end of World War II (1939-1945): The erosion of personal freedom in exchange for perceived (or dictated) benefits (in the case of the FMVSS, safer cars; other agencies gave us cleaner air).  All of this is fought out in various fora (legislatures, the streets, social media, Fox News etc); sometimes the state giveth, sometimes the state taketh away.

The profound recent shift in this mechanism is not the process but the participants: As “big tech” became dominant, that collective gave much to consumers who benefited from what appeared substantially to be “free” while surrendering much that was once by philosophers and political scientists thought precious but which clearly is regarded by many as an abstraction, the loss of which is a price worth paying for TikTok, Instagram, generative AI (artificial intelligence) and such.  In that, big tech’s model is essentially the same as that of the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) and that seems to have worked well so we should imagine, as the twenty-first century unfolds, we’ll get “more of the same”.  In political theory, what the social contract theorists at big tech are doing is right because we all have clicked on the boxes agreeing to their 30-plus pages of terms and conditions and have certified we have read and understood every clause.  The political process handling this societal overlay is neither static nor lineal; structurally it follows much the same pattern as earlier contests between power and individuals: As governments react to pressure groups by seeking to curb the worst of the consequences, fixes, work-arounds and obfuscations will interact with a flow of money into the coffers of governments, parties (and, now and again, pockets) in a way that will permit most of what big tech plans to do while giving the appearance things are being done to stop them doing at least some of what many people think they should stop doing.  To anyone who remembers the maneuvers and compromises that for more than a decade would flow around the best-laid plans of the NHTSA, it will all be familiar.

1968 Imperial Crown Coupe with Mobile Director Package.  The seatbelt (lap only) was now attached directly to the frame.

Imperial’s designers were compelled by the law to be more imaginative than most.  For the swivelling front seat in the 1968 cars, the seatbelt mounting points were integrated directly into the steel frame of the seat base itself, rather than the vehicle's floor pan.  To achieve the necessary strength, (using techniques borrowed from the seats in airliners), the engineers had both inboard and outboard lap-belt ends bolt directly to reinforced anchor points on the lower structural framing of the seat.  This made seat, mechanism and belts wholly self-contained (a la a military aircraft’s ejector-seat!) and permitted the 180^o swivel effect, belts rotating seamlessly with passenger.  Chrysler did however obtain from the authorities a partial-exemption.  While FMVSS 208 required front-seat shoulder belts, that would have been difficult to implement for the swivelling seat (not impossible because ejector-seats have frame-mounted shoulder-belts) so the restraint system was limited to the two-point lap-belt (admittedly an improvement over what she'd been provided in 1967: nothing).  Secretaries on the move presumably were grateful but the safety feature didn’t see sales improve, despite the slashing of the price.

1966 Chrysler 300X show car.

In 1966, the “swivelling seat thing” must have been exerting a powerful influence in Chrysler’s design offices because also shown that year was the 300X, based on a 300 Convertible (and despite the appended letter, a vehicle not in the tradition of the just-retired “letter series” 300s (1955-1965), the “X” believed a reference to eXperimental) and although mechanically unchanged, the cockpit was packed with “futuristic” ideas, some of which did eventually enter mainstream use (although the swivelling front seat remained one of history’s unwanted orphans).  Rather than a conventional steering wheel, the driver used handgrips and the “steering unit” included button controls for lights, wipers, turn signals, and door locks, enabling use of all functions with a finger or thumb, all the while keeping a both hands on the mechanism.  Door handles were replaced by a keypunch card used also for the ignition while a truck-lid mounted TV camera and monitor on the dashboard replaced the rear-view mirrors.  Rear-seat passengers (and the front-occupant when “swivelled”) were able to enjoy watching a small television, mounted on a bracket allowing it to be stowed away when not in use. Construction of the 300X was out-sourced to the prolific customizer and fabricator Roger Winfield (1927–2025) whose creations became well-known from their appearances in film and television including Blade Runner (1982) and Get Smart (1965-1970).  The 1965 Sunbeam “Tiger” be built for Get Smart was actually a visually almost identical Sunbeam Alpine, chosen because its compactfour-cylinder engine left sufficient under-hood space for the “special accessories” (including a retractable machine-gun) whereas the Tiger’s Ford V8 filled the space to the brim.  To solve the “aural deficit”, the distinctive burble of a Tiger’s V8 was added during the editing process.

1969 Ford Aurora II Concept Car.

The most obvious thing that might puzzle those first seeing the Mobile Director Package is why it was available only in a two-door model when four-door coachwork would seem to make the configuration more obviously functional.  Had Imperial in 1967 sold several thousand of the things it’s at least possible Chrysler would for 1968 (or even mid-way through 1967) had extended availability but that would have been a more demanding process than it may appear, the existing swivelling mechanism unable to be used.  The difficulty was the four-door models (both sedan and hardtop) had respectively a full or partial B-pillar, the latter ending at the belt-line where the greenhouse begins, the structure required to provide a secure anchor point for the rear door's hinges.  The coupes used doors longer than front units on the four-door models, meaning the B-pillar sat further forward than the trailing-edge of the coupe’s door; there was thus a sufficient aperture for the seat to rotate when the coupe’s door was open but the gap would have been too narrow on the four-door cars.  So to offer the package in the four-door body it would have been a matter either of re-designing the doors or the swivelling seat and while the former would have been an expensive exercise (prohibitively so if the only justification was to accommodate a low-volume option), the seat and its base could have been re-engineered but after finding only 81 buyers in 1967 and 70 the next season, investment would have been hard to justify.

1960 Facel Vega Excellence EX1 (left) and 1959 Lancia Appia Series III (right).  Facel Vega produced France's finest cars of the post-war era but while undeniably glamourous, the flaws in the design of the Excellence's door-latches were never resolved and by the time the factory was shuttered in 1964, total Excellence production stood at 148 EX1s (Series One; 1958-1961) & 8 EX2s (Series Two; 1961-1964).  Lancia perfected pillar-free body engineering, using doors with sturdy window frames, permitting latch points at both sill and roof, the configuration offered on a number of sedans including the Ardea (1939-1953), Aurelia (1950-1958) & Appia (1953-1963).  The locking mechanism was intricate but the engineering was simple and proved reliable.  It's sad the company's later attachment to FWD (front wheel drive) ultimately doomed Lancia because in every other aspect of engineering, few others were as adept at producing such fine small-displacement vehicles.

1969 Ford Aurora II Concept Car.

Ford's 1969 Aurora II Concept Car gave an indication of quite what what would have been required to make the Mobile Director Package conveniently functional on the platform of what was then the standard "full-size" four-door US automobile.  The "wrap-around" rear seat was an idea borrowed from the Ford Thunderbird, contemporary reviewers praising the visual impact but noting that as something for humans to sit on it was less comfortable than a conventional design; in the Aurora it probably worked better and certainly lent the cabin the desired "lounge-room" vibe.  The problem of providing (1) space for the seat to swivel and (2) allowing elegant ingress & egress was of course afforded by the the four doors (in "suicide" configuration) and elimination of the B-pillar.  That combination provided unprecedented ease of accessibility but its doubtful it could successfully have been implemented in series-production.  The French concern had earlier tried the approach with their Excellence model but, despite retaining a vestigial hump where a B-pillar would have attached to the sill, the company never solved the problem of the door-locking apparatus "springing open" while the car was in motion, usually when the mechanism was subject to lateral forces such as when cornering.  Because these forces could be exerted at high-speed, having doors suddenly "flying open" was an obvious safety concern.  Lancia in the 1950s solved the problem of doing without a fixed central pillar buy using doors with conventional, full-height frames, thereby enabling locking mechanisms to be fitted top & bottom.  Curiously, the Aurora was based on the LTD Country Squire that came only with fully-framed doors so Lancia's approach could have been adopted but there's no indication Ford ever contemplated series-production, the "concept car" created just to generate interest on the show circuit.

1967 Imperial Crown Convertible (with subsequently added Mobile Director package).

Imperial over two seasons might have managed to sell only 151 of the Mobile Director packages but one owner of a 1967 Crown Convertible was so smitten they cannibalized a coupe to create a unique (if wholly fake) "convertible Mobile Director".  Exactly emulating what the factory did would not have been as simple as it may appear because the floor under the passengers swivelling seat needed to be strengthened with additional bracing and a "baffle" was welded to the transmission tunnel where the table's stainless-steel stanchion was attached (off-set to the driver's side to avoid the drive-shaft).  Although apparently as significantly pointless as the original, it's a novelty that would attract interest at events like "cars & coffee" and may even be more functional in that it would seem an ideal place comfortably to sit and enjoy one's picnic while watching something like polo (on the model of the way the Country Life set re-purpose the tailgates on their Range Rovers).  That said, had the factory in 1967-1968 made the package available on the convertible, almost certainly it would have been just as unsuccessful as the coupe. 

Stewart-Warner's desk-based DataFax (circa 1958).  The process of miniaturization in electronics was by 1966 still embryonic but enough shrinkage had been attained to make a fax fit in Imperial's show car.  Unlike fax machines, the pencil skirt never goes out of style.

The specification of Chrysler's package as it appeared in showrooms for the 1967 season was actually modest compared with the “Mobile Executive” car the corporation sent around the show circuit a year earlier; that Imperial had been fitted with a telephone, Dictaphone, writing table, fax machine, reading lamp and stereophonic sound system; a typewriter and portable television also used in many displays although neither were "fitted".  Also a Crown Coupe, the 1966 show car was much more ambitious, anticipating advances in mobile communications that would emerge over the next quarter-century.  At the time, car phones were available (the first service in the US offered in certain cities in 1946) but they were expensive and the nature of the bandwidth, combined with a lack of data compression, meant the range was limited as was capacity, only several dozen calls able simultaneously to be sustained.  In the 1966 car, there had even been the novelty of a Stewart-Warner Datafax, able to send or receive a US Letter-sized (slightly smaller than A4) page of text in six minutes.  That sounds unimpressive in the 2020s (or compared even with the 14.4 kbit/s for Group 3 FaxStream services of the 1990s) but the appropriate comparison is with the contemporary alternatives (driving, walking, a courier, or using the US Mail) and six minutes would have been a considerable advance.  While more expensive than a stamp and envelope, for the target market the costs would anyway have been a legitimate business expense and thus "a deductible".  As it was, the tempting equipment awaited improvements in infrastructure such as the analogue networks of the 1980s and later cellular roll-outs, these technologies contributing to an extent of use delivering economies of scale that eventually would make possible the smartphone.

The 1966 car that toured the show circuit demonstrated the concept which, in simplified form, would the next year appear on the option list but things like telephones and fax machines anticipated the future by many years (although fax machines in cars (Audi and Toyota among the handful to offer them) never became a thing).  The Dictaphone did however make the list as one of Chrysler's RPOs (regular production options) in the early 1970s and the take-up rate was surprisingly high although the fad quickly passed, dealers reporting the customers saying the hardware worked well but they "never used them".  In the collector community, a surviving Dictaphone in something like a Plymouth 'Cuda is a minor attraction; while not increasing value as would something like and original Hemi V8, it is a legitimate "period piece".

Glovebox-mounted fax machine in 1995 Toyota Celsior (the JDM (Japanese Domestic Market) Lexus LS).

The problem with the scaled-down Datafax was even had it been possible to produce the things at a manageable cost, in 1966 the solid-state electronics that would have made the thing reliable when subject to constant vibration and jolts were still years away (Chrysler’s Bendix “Electrojector” fuel injection in 1958 had fewer moving parts and that didn’t end well).  However, even if reliability could have been "engineered in", there is no guarantee demand would have existed whatever the price-point.  In the 1990s, despite it being installed with Toyota’s typical neatness and attention to detail, there were few buyers for the "fax machine in the glovebox" and if the notion was going to catch on anywhere, it would have been in that nation of early adopters.  While there were many features in the 1966 300X truly that were "ahead of their time", the Mobile Direct Package was a genuine cul-de-sac, at least as implemented in a conventionally sized car (and certainly a two-door coupe).  In 1966, rearward-facing seats had for some years been seen in the "vis-à-vis" arrangement used in some LWB (long wheelbase) limousines and as child-seats in the rear-most compartments of station wagons but those seats had been either fixed or folding and although the Ford Aurora II presumably dazzled a few impressionable souls, the industry showed little inclination to follow Chrysler's swivelling lead.

2021 "Maybach-Look" Mercedes-Benz Metris.  The passenger compartment is a similar configuration as the 1966-1967 Imperials (two forward facing seats, two rearward ("fold-away" rather than swivelling)) and there were folding tables as well as features unimaginable in the 1960s (seat massage, starlight-pattern headliner, flatscreen TV, internet connectivity, touchscreen infotainment system and a Burmester sound system with subwoofers).  Unfortunately, a fax machine wasn't part of the build but by 2021, they were close to extinct even in bricks & mortar offices.   

Flawed though Chrysler's implementation in 1966-1967 may have been, in the twenty-first century, production-line economics made it possible to realise the concept's implications, "big-box" vans able to be outfitted as genuinely functional mobile offices from which communication can be maintained with just about any part of the planet.  Of course, based on the same body used by plumbers, Amazon delivery drivers and such, the Metris doesn't have quite the gravitas of the Mercedes-Benz 600 Grossers of old (it's debatable whether the faux "Maybach-Look" stuff makes things better or worse) but there's more interior space and room for a big-screen TV so it's all a matter of what one wants from life.  Noting that, some operations have fitted-out interiors as offices or luxury transports which eschewing the exterior bling, some (often wisely) preferring to travel as inconspicuously as possible.      

Pellucid

Pellucid (pronounced puh-loo-sid)

(1) Allowing the maximum passage of light, as glass; transparent; translucent; non-opaque.

(2) Clear; limpid.

(3) In fashion, a see through fabric or a garment made of such (used loosely also of many which are semi-opaque and thus technically subpellucid).

(4) Easily recognized or seen through; apparent, obvious (archaic).

(5) By extension, of music or some other sound: not discordant or harsh; clear and pure-sounding (technical use only in composition, academic study or criticism).

(6) Figuratively, clear in meaning, expression, or style; not obscure.

(7) Figuratively, of a person, able to think and understand clearly; not confused, perspicacious (now rare).

(8) In anatomy, as "zona pellucida" (the plural: zonae pellucidae or zonæ pellucidæ), a glycoprotein membrane surrounding the plasma membrane of an oocyte.

1610-1620: A learned borrowing from the Latin pellūcidus, a variant of perlūcidus (transparent, pellucid; very bright, radiant; very understandable), from perlūcēre (to shine through), the construct being per- (as a prefix, “through; throughout; completely, thoroughly”), from the primitive Indo-European root per- (forward, hence “through”) + lūcēre or lūcidus (clear; full of light, bright, shining (and figuratively “easily understood, clear, lucid”)), from lūceō (to shine; to become visible, show through (and figuratively “to be apparent, conspicuous, or evident”)).  The construct of the Latin lucidus was understood as lux (light), ultimately from the primitive Indo-European lewk- (bright; to see; to shine) + -idus (the suffix forming adjectives conveying the sense “tending towards”).  The construct in English may thus be understood as pe(r) +-l- + lucid (see through).  The (now rare) noun was derived from the adjective.  In technical use, the preferred word to convey the idea of “somewhat pellucid; tending toward pellucidness” appears to be subpellucid (along with the derived subpellucidly & subpellucidness, all sometimes hyphenated) rather than semi-pellucid, quasi-pellucid, or other possibilities.  The comparative is “more pellucid” and the superlative “most pellucid”).  Pellucid is a noun & adjective, pellucidness & pellucidity are nouns and pellucidly is an adverb; the noun plural is pellucids.  Pellucid and its derivatives are good words and should be used, just not by lawyers.

The pellucid water of Flathead Lake, Montana USA.

“These wells were filled with water, and with a blue light, celestial in its loveliness,—a light ethereal and pellucid.” (Over the Rocky Mountains to Alaska (1914) by Charles Warren Stoddard (1843-1909)).  In literary and poetic use, one will sometimes find “pellucid waters” but the word seem too obscure for advertizing copy-writers who, seeking pellucidity, prefer “crystal clear” although the once uncommon “azure” seems to have become sufficient familiar for the bays of the Mediterranean or Caribbean to be called “azure blue waters”.

Lindsay Lohan in swimsuit with subpellucid V-cut panel; clutch purse by Chanel and wearing Lanvin Classic Garnet ballet flats, Los Angeles, August 2012.

Although there are a few which are designed to be eye-catching, the extensive use the industry makes of pellucid (see-through) fabrics mostly is barely noticed because typically the application is either (1) only subpellucid, (2) covering non-sexualized body-parts such as arms or (3) as an overlay designed to highlight or subtly alter the color or texture of the fabric with which what lies beneath is made.  One intriguing tradition exploiting a fabric’s quality of pellucidly which has endured despite the unpromising origin is the bride’s wedding veil.  Historically, the idea of the veil was to conceal the bride’s appearance from the groom until the priest had pronounced the couple man & wife, thereby having joined together in the name of God what “let no man tear asunder”.  The functional advantage was as a precaution against a groom finding grounds for rejecting his betrothed in those once not uncommon cases where the ceremony was the first time the two had met, the arrangements having been hammered out by the often distant families, sometimes years in advance.  The point at which the bride was unveiled and the priest spoke the words: “You may now kiss the bride” which, in the cases of arranged marriages, actually meant: “You’re stuck with her mate; good luck.”  Even in times gone by however, most brides and grooms were well known to each other (“known” sometimes in the Biblical sense, thus the need for sometimes hastily arranged marriages) but the veil became a popular part of a bride’s ensemble and still they’re sometimes used.

In most parts of the English-speaking world, in recent decades there have been attempts to ensue “plain English” is used in legislation and legal documents.  It’s an admirable goal for many reasons but perhaps the most obvious is a contribution to increased compliance with laws, simply because pellucidness in wording would decrease the risk of unintentional breaches of law and legal obligations, at least some of which are the consequences of misunderstanding; as an example, a word like pellucid should not appear in legal documents because it is little-known and rare.  Using sentences plain in meaning and unambiguous even to those without legal training improves communication which increases information, thereby reducing the need for interpreters (lawyers), thereby decreasing the costs associated with the administration and application of legislation and other legal documents.  Those fond of conspiracy theories like to find in the difficult language a sort of job-creation programme for lawyers but it was really a product of the power of precedent, the phrases and terms of law, many still in their original Latin, having gained a certainty of meaning and thus maintained for generation after generation.  Language itself also had some inertia, the idea of a “legal style” of writing soon entrenched as “correct” and maintained by law schools and practitioners.

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in Court, Los Angeles, December 2011.

The matter for a long had attracted the interest of reformers in the law and parliaments but began to coalesce as a movement in the post-war years and this may at least have been influenced by the extent to which the increasing volume of laws passed by modern states were starting to intrude on the lives of more citizens, most of whom historically had little direct contact with legislation unless they came to the attention of the police.  In 1950, when sitting as a Lord of Appeal, the English judge Lord Radcliffe (1899–1977) observed what as early as 1913 had come to be called “legalese” had become: “…a sort of hieratic language… by which the priests incant the commandments.  I seem to see the ordinary citizen today standing before the law like the laity in a medieval church: at the far end the lights glow, the priestly figures move to and fro, but it is in an unknown tongue that the great mysteries of right and wrong are proclaimed.”  He concluded by asking: “...what willing allegiance can a man owe to a canon of obligation which is not even conceived in such a form as to be understood?”

It was a reasonable question, even if phrased in a way many would find as arcane as the object of his Lordship’s critique it wasn’t until the 1970s that law reform commissions and others began to circulate discussion papers and proposals  The rationale was encapsulated in one fragment in the decision handed down by Lord Donaldson (1920–2005; Master of the Rolls 1982-1992) in Merkur Island Shipping Corp v Laughton [1983]1 All ER 334: “The efficacy and maintenance of the rule of law, which is the foundation of any parliamentary democracy, has at least two prerequisites.  First people must understand that it is in their interests, as well as in that of the community as a whole, that they should live their lives in accordance with the rules and all the rules.  Second they must know what those rules are.”  In the 1990s, reform of language began to happen at scale and there was in this an element of technological determinism, the digitization of legislation and codes meaning texts ancient and modern began to appear on the screens of word processors, making modernization a simpler process.

Antidisestablishmentarianism

Antidisestablishmentarianism (pronounced an-tee-dis-uh-stab-lish-muhn-tair-ee-uh-niz-uhm)

Opposition to the withdrawal of state support or recognition from an established (state) church.  It was used especially in nineteenth century England by those opposed to separating the Church of England (Anglican) from the civil government.

1838: A compound word: anti + dis + establishment + arian + ism.  Anti- was from the Middle English from the Latin from the Ancient Greek.  It was a prefixal use of antí; akin to the Sanskrit ánti (opposite), the Latin ante and the Middle Dutch ende.  Dis- was a Latin prefix used to impart the meanings “apart,” “asunder,” “away,” “utterly,” or having a privative, negative, or reversing force.  In English, it’s long been used freely, especially with these latter senses, as an English formative.  Establishment was from the Old French establissement (and persists in Modern French as établissement), from the verb establir from the Old Occitan establir, from Latin stabilīre (present active infinitive of stabiliō); cognates included the Occitan establir, the French établir and the Italian stabilire.  The –arian suffix dates from circa 1530 and was from the Late Latin ariānus.  It was a suffix forming personal nouns corresponding to Latin adjectives ending in -ārius or English adjectives or nouns ending in –ary and subsequently proved productive in English with other Latinate stems, forming nouns denoting a person who supports, advocates, or practices a doctrine, theory, or set of principles associated with the base word (authoritarian, vegetarian etc).  The –ism suffix was from the Ancient Greek –ismos & -isma noun suffixes, often directly, often through the Latin –ismus & -isma, though sometimes through the French –isme or the German –ismus, all ultimately from the Greek.  It appeared in loanwords from Greek, where it was used to form action nouns from verbs and on this model, was used as a productive suffix in the formation of nouns denoting action or practice, state or condition, principles, doctrines, a usage or characteristic, devotion or adherence (criticism; barbarism; Darwinism; despotism; plagiarism; realism; witticism etc).  The antonym (obviously) is disestablishmentarianism.  Antidisestablishmentarianism & antidisestablishmentarianist are nouns, antidisestablishmentarianistic is an adjective and antidisestablishmentarian is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is antidisestablishmentarianisms.

Portrait of King Henry VIII (circa 1509), oil on canvas by an unknown artist, Denver Art Museum.  This is the earliest portrait of Henry (as king) known to have survived.

It was Henry VIII (1491–1547; King of England (and Ireland after 1541) 1509-1547) who created what endures in England to this day as the established church, the phrase “Church of England” becoming frequently used immediately after the act of separation in 1534.  The king separated the English church from the authority of Rome to become one of a number created in the wake of the Protestant Reformation, not because of any theological or doctrinal differences, but in order to secure the annulment of his marriage to Catherine of Aragon (1485-1536).  Having found the Clement VII (Giulio di Giuliano de' Medici, 1478–1534; pope 1523-1534) unwilling to annul, he had himself instead declared supreme head of the Church in England, the schism with Rome (with the exception of a brief interruption), unhealed to this day.  Problem solved.  There is a distinction between the Church in England and the Church of England, the roots of Christianity in the British Isles established during England’s time as a province of the Roman Empire early in the first millennium.  From these beginnings there were forks and regional divergences until 597 when a Gregorian mission by Augustine of Canterbury visited, Christianity in England from that point subject to the authority of the Pope.  So it continued until 1534, England even once providing a pope (Adrian IV, circa 1100- 1159, pope 1154-1159), noted now for his contribution to the Irish problem, something unsolved even now.

Generally pointless and the Germans do it better

Romanus Pontifex non concedit. Tomb of Clement VII, carved in marble by Nanni di Baccio Bigio (pseudonym of Giovanni Lippi (circa 1508-1568), Santa Maria Sopra, Minerva.  Had the times been different, Clement may have been inclined towards pragmatism and found some loophole permitting an annulment but given the geopolitics, he was constrained.

With 28 letters and twelve syllables, antidisestablishmentarianism is often cited as the longest word in English.  However, floccinaucinihilipilification (a waggish schoolboy pseudo-Latin creation meaning “the act or habit of describing or regarding something as worthless” (the construct being floccus (a wisp) +‎ naucum (a trifle) +‎ nihilum (nothing) +‎ pilus (a hair) + -fication (process of becoming)) is one letter longer and the longest non-technical word in English (there is the 29-letter plural form "antidisestablishmentarianisms" which ties with floccinaucinihilipilification and the 30-letter "antidisestablishmentarianistic" but such derived forms are dismissed by the editors of dictionaries as artificial concoctions).  It was once used in a debate in the UK's House of Commons, although, even that wasn’t the longest ever spoken in Westminster, pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis (a factitious creation said to mean “a lung disease caused by inhalation of very fine silica dust usually found in volcanos”) having been earlier used during a select committee enquiry.  An opportunist extension of the medical term pneumonoconiosis, it was coined during the proceedings of the National Puzzlers' League convention (a natural home of English eccentricity) in 1935 in an attempt to create English’s longest word but was dismissed by dictionaries as fake, clinicians and textbooks still referring to the disease as pneumonoconiosis, pneumoconiosis, or silicosis.  British dictionaries may feel compelled to include antidisestablishmentarianism but many overseas publications do not, on the basis there’s hardly any record of its use except in lists of long words which some editors treat as lexicographical freak shows.  Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary lists the longest as "electroencephalographically", a physician’s diagnostic tool.

English doesn't encourage the conjuring of the long compound words familiar in German.  The classic long German word is Donaudampfschiffahrtsgesellschaftskapitän (42 letters) meaning "Danube steamship company captain" but there are others, not all of which dictionaries accept.  Betäubungsmittelverschreibungsverordnung (41 letters) means "regulation requiring a prescription for an anaesthetic”; Bezirksschornsteinfegermeister (30 letters) means “head district chimney sweep"; Rechtsschutzversicherungsgesellschaften (39 letters) means "legal protection insurance companies".  Enterprising Germans created Donaudampfschifffahrtselektrizitätenhauptbetriebswerkbauunterbeamtengesellschaft (80 letters) meaning "association of subordinate officials of the head office management of the Danube steamboat electrical services" but this was judged bogus bogus and rejected the authorities which held the 63-letter Rindfleischetikettierungsüberwachungsaufgabenübertragungsgesetz ("beef labelling regulation and delegation of supervision law") to be the longest.  It was a real word in actual (if rare) use though usually through the more manageable abbreviation ReÜAÜG but it was rendered obsolete by changes to EU regulations.  Currently, the longest word accepted by most German dictionaries is the 36 letter Kraftfahrzeughaftpflichtversicherung (automobile liability insurance).

Google ngram (a quantitative and not qualitative measure): Because of the way Google harvests data for their ngrams, they’re not literally a tracking of the use of a word in society but can be usefully indicative of certain trends, (although one is never quite sure which trend(s)), especially over decades.  As a record of actual aggregate use, ngrams are not wholly reliable because: (1) the sub-set of texts Google uses is slanted towards the scientific & academic and (2) the technical limitations imposed by the use of OCR (optical character recognition) when handling older texts of sometime dubious legibility (a process AI should improve).  Where numbers bounce around, this may reflect either: (1) peaks and troughs in use for some reason or (2) some quirk in the data harvested.  In the matter of antidisestablishmentarianism, the spike in late twentieth century "use" represents the effect of the internet encouraging the creation of many lists and on-line replications of printed material thus the apparent paradox of the appearance of frequent use which actually reflected the existence of many sources explaining why the anyway rare word had become otherwise functionally extinct.

Regarding the substantive matter of disestablishment, it’s a political position developed in nineteenth century Britain in opposition to the Liberal Party’s proposal for the removal of the Anglicans’ status as the state church of England, Ireland, and Wales.  The establishment was maintained in England, but the Church of Ireland was disestablished in 1871 and the four Church of England dioceses in Wales were disestablished in 1920, becoming the Church in Wales.  Given the nature (and relevance) of the modern Church of England, it’s a matter seldom mentioned as a constitutional reform of pressing importance.