Two Decades Ago, Jeep Made An SUV So Disliked That Even Chrysler’s CEO Once Called It ‘Unfit For Human Consumption’

The Jeep of today has three models that seat seven people and one model that seats eight. But, historically, that hasn’t always been the case. If you were a Jeep buyer in the 2000s and you wanted something for your sizable family, you had just one choice with Jeep’s first three-row SUV, the Commander. This SUV had so much going for it, from Jeep’s iconic boxy styling to a healthy set of equipment. Yet, somehow, Jeep failed so hard that Fiat Chrysler CEO Sergio Marchionne allegedly minced no words when he said that it was ‘unfit for human consumption.’ Here’s how the Commander failed to take authority of the family SUV market.

The SUV and crossover spent much of the late 1990s and the 2000s planting their stakes in the ground as America’s new favorite family car. In decades past, if you had a huge family, you got a full-size van or a wagon. Then, Chrysler’s iconic minivan changed the game, and suddenly, doors slid open, children piled in, and America had a new obsession.

The sport utility vehicle quickly became like catnip to car buyers. The SUV had enough seating for the family, but towered off of the ground, was rugged, and looked cooler to many folks than any minivan did. It wasn’t long before the SUV became a status symbol, appearing everything from driveways in cookie-cutter communities to “pimped out” with spinners and big speakers in the era’s famed rap videos. SUVs grew to become such a huge deal that it wasn’t a minivan that Porsche used to secure its future, but a sleek off-road SUV. Aiding SUVs in their mission for world domination was the crossover, and the big SUV-like car-based vehicles got softer and friendlier with each generation.

America’s SUV fever also got really weird with entrants like the mammoth Ford Excursion, the Isuzu VehiCROSS, and the Dodge Nitro. Jeep, the brand known for its hardcore off-roaders, went on an all-out SUV offensive, producing an SUV for seemingly every kind of buyer. The Cherokee died and was replaced with the Liberty. The Grand Cherokee grew up a bit and tried to put on a nice suit. Jeep also punched out the Patriot and Compass, two Jeep-shaped objects that shared more in common with the Dodge Caliber economy car than they did with the iconic Wrangler. Jeep also got weird with diesel power.

One segment that Jeep didn’t leave out was the big family SUV. Three-row SUVs held 40 percent of the SUV market in the mid-2000s, and Jeep wanted in. If you wanted three rows, seven seats, and a boxy body, Jeep had just the thing. On paper, the Commander had all of the same looks and guts of the Jeeps you loved, but now with an upscale interior and room for everyone. What could go wrong?

Born From An Awesome Concept

The Jeep Commander was previewed on the 1999 auto show circuit with a frankly amazing concept vehicle.

The Jeep Commander concept was far ahead of its time. According to period press releases, the concept vehicle had rockers two inches lower than a 1999 Jeep Grand Cherokee. This was because the concept vehicle was marketed as being sophisticated and upscale. But at the same time, Jeep said that it still had to be a real off-roader, so it had a suspension capable of raising the vehicle four inches. The Commander concept also stood at the Grand Cherokee’s height of 69.4 inches, but had a 7-inch wider stance at 80 inches.

The 1990s were a time when automakers were experimenting with alternative fuels for a greener future and the Commander concept was wild. The concept featured a direct methanol fuel cell, which produced energy to charge a nickel–metal hydride battery. The SUV also had four-wheel-drive through a motor on both axles. Save for the methanol fuel cell, the Commander concept sounds a lot like today’s electric crossovers, only over 25 years earlier.

Jeep’s parent, DaimlerChrysler, said that the technology wasn’t just for show, either. A company report claimed that DaimlerChrysler wanted to produce the “world’s first methanol-powered fuel cell car” in the 2000s.

Trail Rated For Seven

Jeep sort of put a version of the Commander concept into production as the third-generation Jeep Grand Cherokee, which shared some of the concept’s styling. As for the Commander, Jeep would go in another direction for that. Allpar got the scoop on the Commander’s development, and what you’re about to read will explain part of why the Commander didn’t work out as well as expected. From Allpar:

According to Jeep’s Michael Berube, the Jeep Commander was the result of a decision to sell a three-rows-of-seats SUV. The three-seat desire expressed by many customers was not for permanent seating, but “in a pinch” flexibility – having to drive home two more kids or adults now and then.

The Commander was only two inches longer than the 2005 Jeep Grand Cherokee and was produced on the same assembly lines. Donald A. Renkert, Senior Manager of the Jeep Studio, who was the principal stylist for the Commander (as well as Dodge Caravans and at least one of the second-generation Neons) said, “Jeep is not about being too big – we’re not an intimidating brand. We don’t want to knock down the trees, we want to fit between them. .. We said, let’s embrace and celebrate the box. Let’s not think outside the box, let’s build a cooler box.”

The windshield, windows, and doors all got straightened, providing more room inside, and giving the Commander more of a visual connection to past Jeeps. Informally, Mr. Renkert said that, while the styling does have some elements in common with Land Rover and the G-Wagon, that was not intentional, but the pricey SUVs helped justify the boxy shape to executives.

In press releases, Jeep says that the Commander, which entered production in 2005, was its first three-row SUV. This distinction is important because in the past, it built full-size SUVs, with good examples being the original Jeep Wagoneer and the FSJ Jeep Cherokee of the 1970s and early 1980s.

As MotorTrend notes, apparently, Jeep also initially claimed that the Commander was its first seven-seat production vehicle, and that part isn’t quite true. The ’50s Willys Jeep Station Wagon had room for seven. As David Tracy wrote in 2022, Jeep also made the Australian Jeep Overlander, which had room for eight! So, the only truly new Jeep thing here was that third row.

What’s interesting is that according to this paragraph from the Commander’s press release, perhaps the marketing people should have known that the Commander wasn’t Jeep’s first vehicle for seven:

In developing the 2006 Jeep Commander, designers looked to past Jeep vehicles for inspiration: the Willys Station Wagons (1946 to 1962), the Jeep Wagoneer (1963 to 1991) and especially the Jeep Cherokee (1984 to 2001). All were classically Jeep in appearance, with sharp lines, planar surfaces and rugged looks. The 2006 Jeep Commander is a modern interpretation of that design ethic.

The Commander’s body looked like the second-generation Liberty, but shared its bones with the third-generation Grand Cherokee. That meant unibody construction, a five-link rear axle, and an independent short/long arm front suspension. Jeep says it put a ton of emphasis on making the Commander upscale. Yet, it also wanted to make sure it could go off-road with the best of the Jeep lineup. Jeep says that the Commander shares the 109.5-inch wheelbase of the Grand Cherokee and that the Commander is “as maneuverable and off-road capable as the Grand Cherokee.”

Jeep also got really clever inside. The second and third rows were given stadium seating, or where the second row sits higher than the first row and the third row sits higher than the second row. This is supposed to give everyone a nice view of the road ahead and maybe make the interior feel a little roomier. Another nice touch was the Command-View polycarbonate skylights over the second row seats.

The Commander was also filled to the brim with technology. Buyers had the choice of three Quadra-Trac permanent four-wheel-drive systems, two transfer cases, brake-based traction control, and an electronic limited-slip differential. Other equipment included, from Jeep:

Jeep Commander is the first Chrysler Group vehicle with electronic roll mitigation. Using input from multiple sensors, the system deploys the air bags in certain rollover scenarios, as well as side impact events.

Crash protection features available on the Jeep Commander include advanced multi-stage air bags with an Occupant Classification System, available side curtain air bags, seat belts equipped with pretensioners and digressive load limiting retractors, and BeltAlert®, a buckle-up reminder system for the driver.

Crash avoidance features on the 2006 Jeep Commander include standard Electronic Stability Program (ESP), Anti-Lock Brake System (ABS), and an All-Speed Traction Control System (TCS). A tire pressure monitoring system, ParkSense™ rear park assist, Uconnect™ hands-free communications, DVD-based navigation system, SmartBeam® headlamps, and rain-sensitive wipers provide additional safety and security on the road.

Wrapping up the Commander was a handful of engines. The weakest of the bunch was the 3.7-liter Powertech V6, which was good for 210 HP and 235 lb-ft of torque. The hottest mill was a 5.7-liter Hemi V8 making 360 HP and 390 lb-ft of torque. Buyers outside of North America got their Commanders with a 3.0-liter Mercedes-Benz OM642 V6 good for 218 HP and 376 lb-ft of torque.

In theory, the Jeep Commander had all of the right ingredients to be a home run. It was luxurious enough, it had V8 power, it had eight rows, and it had the status that comes with a Jeep badge.

A Tough Crowd

Getting the Commander into the hands of customers had a rocky start. Aside from the somewhat confusing marketing on passenger counts, the media wasn’t exactly lapping up the Commander.

In November 2005, Car and Driver held an interesting comparison test. The Ford Explorer, which got a facelift, went up against the Commander, which, as we established, was largely a tarted-up three-row Grand Cherokee. This test is a neat read because when the publication performed a six-way comparo in April of that year, the Explorer finished dead last in the pack, but the Jeep Grand Cherokee finished first.

The Commander ultimately won the head-to-head comparison test in 2005, with the SUV’s styling, almost perfect driving position, intuitive controls, and growly Hemi V8 all getting compliments. But don’t mistake that for perfection, because Car and Driver had plenty to complain about, from the issue:

Lows: Gun-slit windshield, dismal mileage, cramped third-row seat, numb steering.

The Commander instantly earned points for its wide and roomy front seats, its control relationships, and its agreeable arms-out driving position. The front footwells proved more spacious, too. Then it lost points for its constricted third-row seat. The uneven floor made it tricky to climb back there, and “climb” is the correct descriptor. Third-rowers sit with their heads jammed into the 3.2-inch step in the roof, and their view of passing scenery is scant. Come to think of it, the driver’s view isn’t so vast, either, limited by the stubby, upright windshield. Retro design comes at a price.

The Commander’s steering is a hair too lazy off-center and more or less numb thereafter. Truth is, neither of these trucks offers anything like true road feel. On the ballot to rank steering, one editor eschewed numbers and simply wrote, “Some.”

Robert Farago reviewed the Commander for Jalopnik in 2005:

So I was heading toward the new Commander when a-million-miles-from-MILF Mommy commandeers me. “Is that the new Jeep?” she asks, cutting off my escape route. Oh crap. She gazes at the Commander’s ungainly form like a crutch-wielding supplicant encountering a vision of The Mother Mary polishing the cross at Fatima’s Little Chapel of the Apparitions. I heard it’s got a third row,
she announces with alarming interest. As a professional car reviewer, I am committed to telling the truth, the ugly truth and the really entertaining ugly truth. But I thought, screw that. Let’s do this empirically.

So I pop the Commander’s hatch, yank up the fold-flat seat and show the child-ferrying harridan the back of the bus. I move aside so she can see that the legroom is as shallow as the British Royal Family’s gene pool. Lots of room back there, she remarks. If you know what I mean. I don’t, and I don’t want to. To distract her and physically remove myself from her immediate vicinity, I clamber into the rear row and try to resist the urge to scratch my nose with my right knee. Terrific! She pronounces, as if she was hoping that the Commander’s extra accommodation would violate The Geneva Convention.

I mumble something about the hallucinatory effects of branding. She doesn’t even duck. I retreat to the Commander’s helm to try and sort out what just happened. My analytical abilities are short-circuited by the steering wheel’s faux chrome center ring. It’s about as convincing as the ad for Valenti International Matchmaking that’s been cluttering The Robb Report’s classified section since the day of The Excalibur. Why in God’s name are there fake Allen screw holes in the thing (the steering wheel, not Irene Valenti)? The ones in the dash are at least real fake Allen screw holes. The wheel ones are embossed, for Christ’s sake.

Wow, that was a ride and a half. At least Robert got serious in the ratings section:

Exterior Design *
Just what the world needs: a large, gas-guzzling SUV with all the aerodynamic efficiency of a flying brick. Why didn’t I think of that?
Acceleration ***
Our tester’s 4.7-liter V8 didn’t have enough to power to motivate this 5273 lbs. behemoth into anything remotely resembling a sprint. Sixty comes up from rest, eventually, in 10.2 seconds. On the positive side, the engine torques a good game, imparting a reasonable facsimile of forward thrust. If for some reason I’ve yet to discern, you buy a Commander, be sure to equip it with a Hemi. The 5.7-liter mill increases the Commander’s ability to get out of its own way and increases the lumbering lummox’s staggering afrugality.

[…]

Why you should buy this car: It s a Jeep. It s a well-built Jeep. It s a well-built Jeep that looks like a Cherokee Limited from the late-80 s. If you re a nostalgic outdoorsy-type who doesn’t mind torturing that spare set of sprogs, you re good to snow.
Why you shouldn’t buy this car: It’s ugly, cramped, thirsty (we saw 7.9 mpg) and slow.

Not everyone was negative. You can count on the legendary John Davis of MotorWeek to give any car a fair shake:

What’s interesting is that as time went on, some journalists soured on the idea of the Commander. Car and Driver reviewed the Commander again in 2009 and wasn’t nearly as nice that time:

Lows: Does nothing particularly well, nobody but the driver is comfortable.

Movies might placate the kids in almost any circumstance, but adults relegated to middle- or back-seat duty will be begging for more territory. The second-row seats recline individually, but the seatbacks are narrow enough to strand the inboard shoulder on the middle seat, which only folds forward. Free up some shoulder space by flipping down the center section, though, and the narrowness of the bottom cushion forces those of ample bottom to ride knock-kneed.

The third-row perches are about 25 percent wider but come with their own compromise, namely, the positioning of the seat only eight or so inches off the floor. Imagine sitting on a pair of phonebooks with your knees in your face, and you have a pretty good sense of it. And, the third row tucks so tightly against the back glass that it leaves only eight cubic feet for cargo—barely more than a Saturn Sky roadster’s trunk. At least the power-adjustable pedals, the tilting and telescoping steering wheel, and the eight-way adjustable seat mean the driver can get perfectly comfortable.

Oof.

Based on the reviews, you might think that the Commander failed because it was bad at being a big SUV. I mean, at its core, it was a Grand Cherokee massaged into a shape only barely capable of seating people in a third row. But that’s only part of the story. The Commander still had an epic list of features and could even tow up to 7,200 pounds. They also seemed to be reasonably reliable for a DaimlerChrysler product of the mid-2000s.

While lots of folks have reported issues, lots of others report great reliability. Some folks have complained about finicky transmissions, and some others have complained about leaking skylights. Yet, I haven’t found anything that really stuck out. Even the most reliable cars have at least some sort of population of problem children.

Instead, Car and Driver offered a different explanation for why the Commander failed. Sales were actually decent at first, with 88,497 units finding new homes in 2006, the first full year of production. Sales were still strong enough in 2007 with 63,027 units sold. Then, sales fell off of a cliff to 27,694 in 2008 before halving to 12,655 in 2009.

What gives? Well, our old friend the Great Recession reared its ugly head. Practically overnight, gas-guzzling SUVs were deemed unpopular, and people especially weren’t going to pony up the cash for one with cramped seating. The economy clipped the Commander’s wings before it could really fly.

Still, sales slumped until Jeep took the Commander out back and put it down. In 2011, the body of the Commander hadn’t even cooled down yet before the late Fiat Chrysler Automobiles CEO Sergio Marchionne was shockingly honest to Automotive News about how he felt about the vehicles designed before FCA took over:

“That car was unfit for human consumption. We sold some. But I don’t know why people bought them.”

Australia’s Drive reported that Marchionne even took a shot at the Dodge Durango, saying:

“If I had been here, the Durango would have been a Grand Wagoneer.”

I don’t think the Commander is really that bad. Is the third row tiny? Yes, sure, but a lot of SUVs were like that back then. On the bright side, the Commander had Hemi V8 power, a decent tow rating, actual off-roading capability, good features, and proportions that weren’t quite full-size.

As a teenager, I remember loving the boxy look of the Commander, its sweet skylight windows, and how the Limited model had cool handles on the rear end. Truth be told, the Jeep Wrangler JK didn’t do much for me, but the Commander seemed like my jam. While I’m not exactly in a rush to buy one, I’d love to at least drive a Commander one day.

When new, the maxi-Jeep had a base price of $27,985. That got you a 4×2 V6. $29,985 was the floor for a 4×4 model and if you wanted a V8 Limited 4×2, that was $36,280. Paying $38,900 got you the full ride with the Limited trim and 4×4. Today, you’ll find used Commanders for under $10,000 all day long, and some even under $4,000. Jeep sold over 230,000 of these things, so they’re not at all rare.

Today, the idea of a plus-size Jeep isn’t new or radical. I mean, Jeep’s longest SUV is as long as the Ford Excursion was. The Jeep Commander was a pretty big deal when it hit sales floors. But, for a number of reasons, the Commander started off strong before landing with a thud. Still, if you’re looking for a cheap Jeep with a big interior, maybe you’ll take the lead in a Commander one day.