Car Guys vs. Bean Counters - Bob Lutz [4]
“He’s probably out there somewhere,” I responded, “but if he is, I sure haven’t heard of him.” Thoughtful pause on Rick’s part.
“I see. Would you be willing to enter into a consulting arrangement with GM?”
I countered that with a resounding no, explaining that I’d have the frustration, the knowledge, the desire to do something, but no power to actually get it done. Besides, I would have the whole organization mobilized against me to “neutralize” the threat to the status quo.
This resulted in a long and somewhat painful silence, broken finally by Rick asking, in a painfully halting way, “I don’t suppose . . . you know, at your age and all . . . that you’d be . . . willing to consider, conceivably . . . actually coming back to work at GM full time for a few years?” There—it was out! Title, compensation, and responsibilities were quickly sketched out, but would have to be blessed by the board.
I told Rick my value to the company would come in three distinct phases:
Phase One. Exert my influence to improve products already in the pipeline and use my communications skills and reputation with the media to have them seen in the best possible light.
Phase Two. Lead the creation of the future portfolio: cars and trucks of unsurpassed design excellence and characteristics. Cars and trucks so good, so desirable, that customers would pay full price and wait for delivery if necessary.
Phase Three. Permanently change the culture of the company, especially around design, planning, and engineering, in such a way that mediocrity (or the dreaded adjective “lackluster,” so frequently applied to new GM cars) would be permanently banished.
How these three phases were accomplished over almost nine years instead of the originally envisaged three years is what the rest of this book is about.
2
An Unstoppable Force
TO FULLY APPRECIATE WHAT I WAS ABOUT TO WALK INTO, WE MUST FIRST understand the situation GM was in, and how it got there. So, a brief history lesson is in order. I won’t delve into the detail that is readily available elsewhere—including at GM itself. In fact, ex-CEO Jack Smith used to teach an in-house course on “GM History” to young employees. While the intentions were no doubt noble, and the material no doubt fascinating, the whole idea was indicative of the culture of corporate infallibility and self-worship being fostered on the premises.
The GM we know today began to take shape in 1920, when Alfred P. Sloan took the wheel of the conglomeration of car companies collected in 1908 by Billy Durant and christened “General Motors.”
Sloan brought order and managerial discipline to what Durant had cobbled together and established a visionary method for running what was even then a huge corporation. He believed in some centralized control, especially in the establishment of budgets, allocation of capital, and selection of key management. But he also displayed uncanny instincts for controls that were simultaneously “loose” and “tight.”
“Tight” control was maintained on the overall vision for the company, and especially its brands. “A car for every purse and purpose” was a famous phrase attributed to Sloan. The brands were to form a hierarchy from the lowest price, with Chevrolet, Pontiac, Buick, and Oldsmobile serving as increasingly expensive, increasingly premium stepping-stones to the “Standard of the World,” Cadillac, and its junior cousin, LaSalle.
The “looser” control manifested itself in the broad autonomy granted the divisions in what kinds of vehicles they produced and how they chose to market them. Sloan also displayed his visionary skill in recognizing the importance of automotive design, hiring the legendary and flamboyant designer Harley Earl and establishing the first “Art and Color” department, which was to assure that all of the products of the corporation would be as well proportioned and stunningly beautiful as the custom bodies Harley Earl created before his arrival at GM.
Recognizing