Quotes
Like many native Italians, my parents were very open with their feelings and their love—not only at home, but also in public. Most of my friends would never hug their fathers. I guess they were afraid of not appearing strong and independent. But I hugged and kissed my dad at every opportunity—nothing could have felt more natural.
Bad times are indelible—they stay with you forever.
No matter how I’m doing financially, the Depression has never disappeared from my consciousness. To this day, I hate waste. When neckties went from narrow to wide, I kept all my old ones until the style went back to narrow.
They say that people vote with their pocketbooks, and certainly my father’s political views shifted along with his income. When we were poor, we were Democrats. The Democrats, as everybody knew, were the party of the common man. They believed that if you were willing to work hard and not be a deadbeat, you should be able to feed your family and educate your kids.
But when times were good—before the Depression and then again when it was finally over—we were Republicans. After all, we had worked hard for our money and we deserved to hold on to it.
“You’ve got to accept a little sorrow in life,”
“Pop, slow down. Golf is a game of walking!”
But that was my father for you. He always preached: “Why walk when you can run?”
But I always kept in mind my father’s warning: “If he’s bigger than you are, don’t fight back. Use your head instead of your fists.”
To sum up: nothing stands still in this world. I like to go duck hunting, where constant movement and change are facts of life. You can aim at a duck and get it in your sights, but the duck is always moving. In order to hit the duck, you have to move your gun. But a committee faced with a major decision can’t always move as quickly as the events it’s trying to respond to. By the time the committee is ready to shoot, the duck has flown away.
Or, as Charlie Beacham used to say, “If you want to give a man credit, put it in writing. If you want to give him hell, do it on the phone.”
In the first two years alone, the Mustang generated net profits of $1.1 billion. And that’s in 1964 dollars!
“Henry Ford [the first] once said that history is bunk. But today, Bunkie is history.”
When I became president, the Ford Motor Company had approximately 432,000 employees. Our total payroll came to more than $3.5 billion. In North America alone, we were building close to 2.5 million cars a year and 750,000 trucks.
But Henry’s standard meal was a hamburger.
One day Henry ordered me to fire a certain executive who was, in his judgment, “a fag.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “The guy’s a good pal of mine. He’s married and has a kid. We have dinner together.”
“Get rid of him,” Henry repeated. “He’s a fag.”
“What are you talking about?” I said.
“Look at him. His pants are too tight.”
“Henry,” I said calmly, “what the hell do the guy’s pants have to do with anything?”
“He’s queer,” said Henry. “He’s got an effeminate bearing. Get rid of him.”
Early in my presidency, Henry told me his management philosophy. “If a guy works for you,” he said, “don’t let him get too comfortable. Don’t let him get cozy or set in his ways. Always do the opposite of what he expects. Keep your people anxious and off-balance.”
Maybe that’s why he seemed to feel so threatened. And why he was always on the lookout for palace revolts. He’d see two guys talking together in the hall, and right away—they must be planning a conspiracy!
I don’t want to play psychiatrist here, but I had a theory about where his fears came from. When Henry was young, his grandfather was fanatically frightened of kidnappers. Those kids grew up with locked gates and bodyguards, wary of everyone who wasn’t part of their immediate family.
He lived by his grandfather’s motto: “History is bunk.” It became an obsession with him. His attitude was: destroy everything you can.
“I don’t know about that,” said Henry. “He’s got a limousine company. Limousine and trucking companies are always Mafia fronts.”
“Are you kidding?” I said. “If he’s involved with the Mafia, why is he losing so much money?” That line didn’t seem to register, so I took another tack. I reminded Henry that it was Bill Fugazy who had arranged for Pope Paul to ride in a Lincoln instead of a Cadillac when the Pope came to New York.
justice will prevail
I’ll take the rap.
What the public hasn’t always realized was that Ford didn’t make his offer to the workers out of any great generosity or compassion. It wasn’t their standard of living he cared about. Henry Ford never hid his real reason for the $5.00 day: he wanted his workers to earn enough so that they could eventually buy their own cars. In other words, Henry Ford was creating a middle class. He realized that the industry—and therefore the Ford Motor Company—could only be truly successful if its cars appealed to the workingman as well as the wealthy.
On November 2, 1978, the Detroit Free Press carried two headlines: CHRYSLER LOSSES ARE WORST EVER, and LEE IACOCCA JOINS CHRYSLER. Great timing! The day I came aboard, the company had announced a third-quarter loss of almost $160 million, the worst deficit in its history. “Oh, well,” I thought, “from here things can only get better.” Despite the huge losses, Chrysler’s stock closed up three eighths that day, which I took as a vote of confidence in my new administration. Ha, ha!
Industrial spying in the auto business is something that the press enjoys talking about—and occasionally indulging in. Spying had sometimes been a problem at Ford. One day in the early 1970s, a friend of mine from Chrysler showed me a packet of confidential materials from Ford that one of his people had purchased from one of ours. I showed the papers to Henry, who got very upset. He tried to put in a system to see how deep this spying and industrial espionage really went and to determine what, if anything, we could do about it.
Building cars had become a gigantic guessing game. It had nothing to do with a customer ordering what he wanted on the car, or a dealer ordering what the customer was likely to ask for. Instead, it was some guy in the zone office saying: “I’ll put power steering on this one and automatic transmission on that one. I’ll make a thousand blues and a thousand greens.” If a customer wanted red, too bad!
In the end, all business operations can be reduced to three words: people, product, and profits. People come first. Unless you’ve got a good team, you can’t do much with the other two.
Cars are very complex machines, more so each year. Take air conditioning, for example. If you’re paying an extra $700 to keep cool in the summer, you want your money’s worth. Whoever designs the air-conditioning system has to remember: it’s no good if it takes 30 minutes to cool down the car, because most trips are over by then. So you need to install high-speed blowers. But they can’t be too noisy, because the guy driving the car wants to listen to his $300 stereo while the air conditioning is on. The air-conditioning guy can’t say: “That’s not my problem. I just want to cool him down.” He’s got to integrate his part into the total system of the car.
Once I had my team in place, I was confident that Chrysler’s recovery would only be a matter of time. But then I hadn’t counted on the economy to fall apart. And I certainly hadn’t counted on Iran. As it turned out, neither had Jimmy Carter.
We’d suspended all merit pay increases.
And he knew we weren’t crying wolf.
If everybody is suffering equally, you can move a mountain. But
fox into the henhouse.
That’s obsolete thinking. I want labor to understand the inner workings of the company. The old days are gone for good. Some people don’t believe it, but they’ll find out soon enough. America’s economic future depends upon increased cooperation among government, union, and management. Only by working together can we take on the world market.
At Chrysler, the K-car was the last train in the station. If we failed here, it was all over.
The way things are going, by the year 2000 there will be only two fighters in the ring anyway: GM and Japan, Inc. A merger between Ford and Chrysler is probably the single most dramatic action that could be taken to strengthen the American automotive industry vis-à-vis the Japanese.
At Chrysler we generally spend about $50 million a day. To be down to our last $1 million was absurd. It was like having a buck and a half in your checking account. In the car business, $1 million is like the spare change you keep in your top drawer.
“If you can find a better Bourbon, drink it,” or a letter that said: “If you can find a better lemon, suck it!”
After the firing, Mary was really a tower of strength. She knew I wanted to stay in the auto business, and she encouraged me to go to Chrysler—if that was what I wanted. “The Lord makes everything turn out for the best,” she said. “Maybe being fired from Ford is the best thing that ever happened to you.”
On the whole, we Americans are good drivers. And compared to drivers in other countries, we’re terrific. Although far too many people are killed each year on roads and highways, our traffic-death rate of 3.15 per 100 million vehicle miles is the lowest in the world.
I don’t pretend to be an expert on driving. But I do know a few things about cars. And I want to explain why seat belts—and not air bags—are the key to reducing traffic fatalities in the United States.
In this respect, at least, the cynics were right: if you stress safety, the customer starts to think about having an accident, which is the last thing in the world he wants to consider. He instinctively says: “Forget it. I’ll never be in an accident. My neighbor might, but not me.”
Back in 1914 the first Henry Ford decided to pay his workers $5.00 a day and created a middle class in the process. He had the right idea, for unless the working people of this country are making a good living, we’ll be wishing away our middle class. The cement in our whole democracy today is the worker who makes $15 an hour. He’s the guy who will buy a house and a car and a refrigerator. He’s the oil in the engine.
The mass media tend to focus on the very rich and the very poor, but it’s the middle class that gives us stability and keeps the economy rolling. As long as a guy is making enough money to meet his mortgage payments, eat fairly well, drive a car, send his kid to college, and go out with his wife once a week for dinner and a show, he’s satisfied. And if the middle class is content, we’ll never have a civil war or a revolution.
Another Japanese advantage is that their taxes are the lowest of any industrial country in the world. And one reason they can afford such low taxes is that they don’t spend very much on defense. Ever since the end of World War II, we’ve taken care of that burden for them. After they surrendered, we said to them, “Listen, you guys, stop making arms. You can see where that got you. Don’t worry, we’ll defend your country for you. We want you to start making some nice, peaceful things for a change—like cars. We’ll even show you how. The people in Detroit will give you a hand!”
But how do you compete with a country that is spending only $80 annually per citizen on defense when we’re spending more than ten times as much? While we’re busy protecting both countries, the Japanese are free to spend theirmoney on research and development.
Question: What do you call a country that exports raw materials and imports finished goods?
Answer: A colony.
MAKING AMERICA GREAT AGAIN
I guess my attitude toward an industrial policy is the same as Abraham Lincoln’s when somebody told him that Ulysses S. Grant got drunk a lot. Lincoln said: “Find out what kind of whiskey he drinks and send it to my other generals.”
Of the ten largest corporate mergers in U.S. history, nine have taken place during the Reagan administration. One of the biggest involved U.S. Steel. While protected by trigger prices (which cost us $100 more per car to buy American steel), U.S. Steel paid $4.3 billion to buy Marathon Oil. Most of that money was borrowed. It should have been used to buy modern basic oxygen furnaces and continuous casters to compete with the Japanese.
Above all, he was pragmatic. When he was confronted by big problems, he did something—and that always takes more courage than doing nothing. Roosevelt did not attack the problems of the Depression with charts and graphs, with Laffer curves, or with Harvard Business School theories. He took concrete action. He was always willing to try something new. And if that didn’t work, he was willing to try something else.
We are, after all, a resourceful people in a nation that has been blessed with abundance. With direction, leadership, and the support of the American people, we can’t miss. I’m convinced that this country can once again be that bright and shining symbol of power and freedom—challenged by none and envied by all.