The first thing you will notice about Heinz Neunzig, outside of the twinkle of mischief in his eyes and that signature mustache, is his looming physical presence. Standing 6 feet 6 inches tall, the German-born giant towers above those around him, a larger-than-life Mercedes-Benz retiree with way more than just one hell of a story to tell.
Known within the community as the man who almost single-handedly turned the brand’s G-Wagen from a scuttled military experiment into the celebrity staple it is today, Neunzig is highly revered by those in the know -- a living legend with unshakeable aspirations, humble views and an insatiable sense of adventure.
I recently had the privilege of spending several days with Neunzig and members of the Mercedes-Benz Club of America during their annual StarFest event, where I focused both my camera lens and inquisitive mind upon the man responsible for the G-Wagen’s salvation and success. Trundling slowly down rutted-out public access roads in Talladega National Forest, we chatted about life in Alabama, Heinz’s history with the company, adventures abroad and some of the lesser known aspects of the vehicle, stopping only when a particular photograph was deemed necessary.
Neunzig’s story began the moment he completed college in 1972, where his junior executive sales specialist role at a dealership in Germany kick-started his career with Mercedes-Benz, never expecting that someday he would be living in America.
Unbeknownst to most Americans, the sheer magnitude of these Mercedes-owned “mega-dealerships” is downright staggering, with larger operations typically having close to 1,000 employees on deck any given day, making them a rock-solid launch pad for anyone looking to get into the automotive industry.
Learning numbers
By the time 1978 rolled around, Neunzig was being called back to HQ in order to "learn the numbers.” After what seemed like an eternity of pushing papers, the aspiring auto enthusiast made a decision one night to never tinker with administrative work again. The then-34-year-old began asking around about transfer opportunities. With a move to a less-than-glamorous role in the cargo van division aligned, Heinz refocused his career upon his strength in sales once more, secretly yearning to work with more interesting automobiles.
His big break came in 1979, when the brand’s G-Wagen (or Geländewagen if you want to refer to it by its proper title, umlauts and all) was officially dubbed the most unloved vehicle in the lineup by salesmen that Heinz saw his opportunity. The boxy SUV was a “love it or hate it” kind of contraption, and with its outline looking somewhat akin to a 5-year-old’s artistic interpretation of what a car should look like, had long drawn Heinz’s eye.
Engineered to be a military machine above all else, the G-Wagen of yesteryear is a far cry from the blend of utilitarianism and opulence seen today. Stripped-down, uncomfortable and packing a price tag that with inflation was around a third of what it is today, the brick of a Benz was a bit of an albatross for the sedan and sports car specialist. At the time, the 4x4 was offered exclusively with a four-cylinder diesel layout, did not come with AC, was cumbersome even in short-wheelbase form and featured very few creature comforts.
Capable machine
Yet despite all of its frugalities, its unique locking differentials, raised ride height and superior breakover angles made the Geländewagen an incredibly capable off-road machine. This explains why the Shah of Persia had placed 1,000 units on order in 1972 for annual delivery, thus making it the official light military vehicle for the region -- a move that prompted Mercedes-Benz to ramp-up production considerably.
Unfortunately, due to the lack of robotic assembly lines and the specifics of the order, by the time the vehicles were ready, the Shah was no longer in power and Mercedes-Benz was left with a metric motherload of G-Wagens. With nary a military buyer in sight, and millions of dollars in product on the line, the only thing left to do was demilitarize the vehicles for civilian use and put them up for sale to the public.
Due to its bricklike styling points and its non-German assembly point in Austria, the G-Wagen either repulsed buyers and Mercedes-Benz salespeople alike, or drew them in like no other vehicle in the lineup. Heinz, in the latter camp, adored the way the vehicle looked, and its undeniable 4x4 prowess and unmistakable design provided the young salesman with a unique sales pitch.
And so it was that, in 1979, one of the brand’s slowest-selling vehicles was about to undergo a marketing overhaul the likes of which no one within the company could ever have predicted.
Playing upon the fact that people either loved or hated the vehicle, Neunzig based his focus around finding employees within Mercedes-Benz who also adored the G-Wagen, and from there proposed the assembly of a team of around a dozen specialists who would focus exclusively on selling it. This meant planning out intensive training exercises, where the team would be exposed to every sort of off-road encounter imaginable in a G-Wagen in order to prove firsthand what the vehicle was capable of conquering.
Neunzig also requested approval to bump sales commission bonuses for anyone who moved a unit, in turn designing incentives like bi-annual international adventure trips for the top G-Wagen pushers, instantly making the 4x4 a priority for anyone on the sales floor. These incentive trips overseas doubled as a way in which he could leverage foreign dealerships to carry the vehicle, making it a win-win situation for everyone involved.
Center stage
Unorthodox approach approved and in place, Heinz’s tactics proved to be wildly successful, and in no time G-Wagen exhibition centers began popping-up in dealerships all over Germany, with on-premise off-road test tracks serving as center stage.
Convincing a salesperson to bring the prospect's wife and kids along for the ride became a crucial angle as well. Heinz explains that if you could get the whole family in the vehicle, and both the kids and their mother were having a ball off-road, then dad was almost guaranteed to get one. If a proving ground had not already been built at a dealership Heinz would instruct employees to take the family on jaunts in nearby forests or down dusty quarries in order to showcase the machine’s prowess and superior traction controls. Within just a couple years this family-focused approach, coupled with the aforementioned incentives and Heinz’s request to have the vehicle outfitted with more luxury options, had turned the G-Wagen from parking lot pariah into sales success.
At the time the original 461 model -- a platform that is still being made today, albut as a naked military version not intended for civilian use -- was the only version available to the global market. Although Heinz has never been affiliated with the filling of military orders, he did offer some intriguing insights into the various uses the vehicle provides to governments around the world. From the Australians using them as a preferred vehicle for firefighters, to the United States Marines favoring the chassis over the H1 Hummer as a drop-vehicle due to its narrower width, the G-Wagen has become one of the most preferred government vehicles on the global market. Granted, the militaristic usage of said vehicle has caused some concern as well, with shareholders repeatedly imploring the brand to kill the car, yet still it stands.
By the early 1990s, Neunzig found himself building the first special edition Mercedes-Benz in history (the G-Classic), and pushing the powers-that-be to bring the 463 version of the G-Wagen to America. While it took nearly a decade for MBUSA to finally approve this venture, many years prior Heinz had found himself tapped to spearhead a very different, but equally crucial task: Developing a vehicle to replace the G-Class and then make it a success.
It was 1992, and the board had decided that a successor to the Geländewagen needed to be made, assembling a group of seven specialists from each corner of the company, with Heinz standing in the center. But the board was shocked by the group’s findings. After countless meetings and brainstorming sessions, the Mercedes-Benz thin tank returned with a proposal explaining that while a new SUV indeed needed to be made, keeping the G-Wagen around was also a wise move -- and that in order to make the new vehicle a success it would need to be made right here in North America.
The largest market for the booming SUV segment demanded a production site, and by March of 1993 Heinz had been selected to move to America for the M-Class project after his successful role in helping facilitate the location of the brand’s production plant. These were incredibly trying times for Neunzig. Now a married man with three young sons, he found himself moving to a country where he could barely speak the native language, assigned to a project so monolithic that most men would shrink away from in fear. Spearheading a project that required building a brand-new vehicle in a fledgling segment, but first finding the ideal location for said factory, and then bring on a team of local workers whom had never built cars before was just the tip of the piston.
Throwing caution to the wind, the courageous SUV specialist and his associates began meeting with government officials and the team at Freightliner -- a brand that had grown quite experienced with the American way of doing things over the years. By September of 1993 Tuscaloosa, Alabama had been chosen as the home for the new plant, and by the end of October the board had agreed to Heinz’s wishes to keep the G-Wagen in the portfolio as well.
After playing a pivotal role as one of the five people responsible for bringing Mercedes-Benz manufacturing to America, and overseeing the brand’s growth in America, Neunzig was brought back to Stuttgart in 2000 to head marketing and sales of the G-Wagen in America, Africa and Australia. In its first year on the market in the U.S. the brand sold 3,000 units, with the first (and for a while, only) place to purchase one being a tiny dealership in Santa Fe of all places! With sales numbers shattering all projections, the square SUV quickly steamrolled into what it is today, with 50 percent of all G-Wagen sales in America these days being AMG in nature.
Bumping down rutted Alabama backroads, with members of the Mercedes-Benz Club of America following our line, our conversation switches back to the lesser known aspects of the vehicle that Heinz finds most fascinating. Apparently all products starting with the letter G within the brand are named so due to the G-Wagen’s widespread recognition, and that up until the latest version, the body never changed much from the original 4-cylinder version -- a baffling thought considering that somehow Mercedes has found a way to stuff a 12-cylinder engine underneath the hood.
Military & luxury needs
Navigating carefully around jagged rocks, Heinz tells of how, in 2001, the right-hand drive version was canceled but brought back when the Australian Military requested a shipment, and how the vehicle was purposefully designed to be square and simple in order to make repair and replacement in the field as pain-free as possible. Even the windshield and hood have been engineered to be easily removed and replaced with whatever sheet metal or glass is lying around, making the G-Wagen the only vehicle on the planet that meets all military requirements and luxury needs.
I could go on about how Neunzig laments the fact that Mercedes-Benz no longer offers both long and short wheelbases, and that for all of its headaches, how he truly misses driving the convertible version. We could talk about the dozens of Geländewagens he has owned, or how the 4x4² version I tested the week following our time together remains his dream G, but I believe I should leave you with a fun little Neunzig story instead.
Back in 1982 and 1983, when it was still somewhat safe to do so, the adventurous German agreed to co-pilot the grueling Rallye Paris-Dakar with former Belgian F1 driver Jacky Ickx.
Tasked with supporting both the service team’s organization and the selling of all three vehicles upon arrival in Dakar, Neunzig and his entourage proceeded to spend the better part of the next two weeks in the blistering heat of the Sahara with little more than a compass to guide them. Although their first attempt did not win any accolades, their stab at the 1983 race allowed the team to take first place among every vehicle fielded, and upon arrival in Senegal, Neunzig promptly sold all three “gently used” Geländewagens for cold hard cash at the local Mercedes-Benz dealership. Chortling heartily at the memory, Neunzig tells of his return to headquarters in Germany a few days later, trophy in one hand, giant plastic bag full of cash in the other, a victorious moment on every front for the man responsible for it all.
Larger than life
Stories like these are a deutsche mark a dozen when spending time with Neunzig. He’s the sort of larger than life leader that everyone looks up to, both literally and figuratively, and his wanderlust is just as insatiable as his love for all things automotive. Although his unorthodox style of doing things may have ruffled a few traditionalist feathers during his days with Mercedes-Benz, it was this same approach that also made his career such a success.
Following his retirement in 2007, Neunzig now spends most of his time traveling the globe with the G-Wagen club he helped create and playing with his grandchildren. After 35 years of working exclusively for the star brand, he is equal parts recognized and revered, a walking G-Wagen encyclopedia with a devout love for the V8 power found in his personal G500, which began life as a demo car in Graz.
From saving the G-Wagen and turning it into a sales success, to being one of the pivotal people responsible for bringing Mercedes-Benz manufacturing to America, this man has done incredible things for both the brand itself and the thousands of people who rely upon the company for employment, transportation and pure driving pleasure. He’s the sort of guy who struggles to separate his passion from his profession, and his enthusiasm is equal parts contagious and inspiring. Leave it to Neunzig's wife, Evelyn, to sum this obsession up adequately. With a wry smile she looks lovingly over at her husband of 42 years and whispers to me in a hushed tone, “In all of our years together I never once have worried about him having another lover. He only has eyes for me and the G-Wagen, and some things will never change.”