The scene was the Ford factory in Dagenham, the year 1950. The security man couldn’t believe his luck. As he passed the canteen after the day shift had gone, he saw some well-known characters round a table. He was about to call for reinforcements to deal with this 'subversive cell’ when he recognised another man. It was the superintendent of the Assembly Building, H R Whatham.
Bill Whatham had joined Fords in 1912 when they started in Manchester. He was a wrestler, British Amateur Champion in 1923. ln 1925 Whatham watched Edsel Ford dig the first sod in the marshlands of Dagenham where the factories were built on 22,000 steel and concrete piles. Later he was transferred down there to become head of security, then superintendent of the Final assembly.
Bill quickly adopted Fords’ strong-arm methods of dealing with the unions in those days, and no one was keen to tangle with him. But by 1947 the wrestler was on the floor and ready to submit. ‘I had tried the tough way with the men,' he said. ‘It didn't work. The problem was – what would work?'
About this time one or two unexpected incidents took place in Dagenham. The boss of the foundry told Whatham that a militant shop steward cabled Duncan Davidson had ‘mysteriously changed’ in his attitude. Davidson, who had led the East End unemployed in me late '30s, had made persistent demands on behalf of the skilled wood-patternmakers for better ventilation lighting and working space. Every time he had been turned down. ‘But this time’, said the foundry manager, ‘he didn't put a pistol to my head. The man has changed and I must say it’s an improvement.’ Management accepted Davidson’s plans.
Then an electricians’ shop steward, Jim Home, said to Whatham one day, ‘You know sir, we are just as concerned with the welfare and success of the building as you are.’
‘I almost laughed out loud’, Bill said later. 'I thought of the assembly building as my own child which I had nurtured and brought up through all difficulties.’
But Home went on, ‘If we could get together round a table and work out what was right, I'm sure we could find some solutions.’
Then came the knock-out. In spite of his ability and toughness there was one man in the Assembly Building with whom Whatham could do nothing. Arthur Morrell had started down the pits at 14, then joined the Army. When he came to work in Dagenham in 1932 he rebelled at the harsh treatment. Then in ‘36 he clashed with Whatham and was fired. ‘I’ll get that man’, he vowed, ’even if it takes 20 years.’
War-time conditions had forced Henry Ford to recognise the unions, so when Morrell came back to Dagenham, he became a shop steward. The assembly building was soon in uproar, with a series of strikes. Shop stewards marched to the Managing Director and demanded that Whatham be sacked.
Whatham’s office was situated at the top of a flight of stairs, with the assembly lines in full view. One day in ‘48, Morrell opened the door without warning and called out; ‘Have you ever seen a man apologising to you? Well you're seeing one man apologising to you now’ - and he was gone.
Whatham was stunned. He found out that Davidson had taken Home and Morrell to see the industrial play ‘The Forgotten Factor’ in London. A play! He decided he'd better see it for himself. He told a friend later ‘It depicted the manager of a factory and the trouble he had with trade union officials, which were similar to the things we were going through. Management and Labour could see themselves depicted on that stage and not in the best of light.’ You thought, ‘That is very like me and I don't like it very much.’ And you began to feel you had got to change yourself. Indeed the ideas of that remarkable play were to go much deeper in all their lives than merely their industrial attitudes.
After a while Bill decided to try out Home’s suggested get-together. The canteen staff laid on cups of tea. One or two foremen and charge-hands joined in too. The only ground rule was that everyone aimed at finding what was right for all; easy to say but difficult to apply. They got a lot off their chests. But they also talked as mature men trying to solve difficult problems. One steward said later, ‘By this means our little troubles never became big ones. As a result we have increased output, increased pay and we can see the superintendent at all times.’
Whatham added, ‘The men on the job will give you ideas if you give them a chance. We are getting production without having to drive people. The building today (1951) is running more economically than ever before In the history of the company. The efficiency of the line has risen to 100.4%.’
Was it coincidence that during the next year or two there was no stoppage? Or that the Chairman, Sir Rowland Smlth, wrote in the company journal, ‘Last year was the best for negotiations in our history’?
During this time Whatham and Morrell, now works-convenor, spoke at various industrial conferences. Their colourful and humorous story was eagerly studied in other industries. But the meetings in the canteen were too much for Detroit. An industrial giant couldn’t be expected to credit its turn-round to tea parties! Besides they were against company rules.
The meetings were stopped.
Sadly Davidson died of a brain tumour and in '55 Morrell was found dead after an apparent accident on his motor scooter. Bill Whatham spoke at his funeral.
For several years Fords reverted to the old style confrontation that inevitably creates more problems than it solves. But the wrestler and the stewards had made their point; dialogue was possible and the toughest of men could change.
Today Fords maintain an impressive market leadership in the British car industry. Thanks to new company policies and solid trade union leadership in recent years, industrial relations have made big advances. The higher productivity which has resulted has attracted new investment.
Fords have recently announced plans to expand vehicle production in Britain by almost 25%. This will provide 1,000 jobs and cost £300 million per annum.
It is interesting to speculate on what other ‘stones that the builders rejected’ will become the ‘corner stones’ of the new social structure.
English