Iacocca: An Autobiography

Bol Partner

He is fast-talking, blunt, boastful, and unabashedly patriotic. Lee Iacocca is also a genuine folk hero. . . . His career is breathtaking."--Business Week He's an American legend, a straight-shooting businessman who brought Chrysler back from the brink and in the process became a media celebrity, newsmaker, and a man many had urged to run for president. The son of Italian immigrants, Lee Iacocca rose spectacularly through the ranks of Ford Motor Company to become its president, only to be toppled eight years later in a power play that should have shattered him. But Lee Iacocca didn't get mad, he got even. He led a battle for Chrysler's survival that made his name a symbol of integrity, know-how, and guts for millions of Americans. In his classic hard-hitting style, he tells us how he changed the automobile industry in the 1960s by creating the phenomenal Mustang. He goes behind the scenes for a look at Henry Ford's reign of intimidation and manipulation. He recounts the miraculous rebirth of Chrysler from near bankruptcy to repayment of its $1.2 billion government loan so early that Washington didn't know how to cash the check. The son of Italian immigrants, Lee Iacocca rose spectacularly through the ranks of the Ford Motor Company to become its president, only to be knocked down from the top eight years later in a devastating power play that almost shattered him. But Lee lacocca didn't get mad, he got even. As the Chief Executive Officer of the Chrysler Corporation, he transformed : a dying company into a booming success by leading a fight - | N for survival that has become almost legendary — and made his name a symbol of integrity that millions of Americans know and trust. . Wherever Il go, people always ask me the same questions. How did vou get to be successful? Why did Henrv Ford fire you? How did you turn Chrysler around? I've never had a good quick answer to these questions, so Ive slipped into the habit of saying: “When 1 write my book, vou ll find out.” Over the years, I've repeated that phrase so often that T've come to believe my own words. In the end, I had no choice but to write the book Ive been talking about for so long. Why did I write it? Certainly not to become famous. The television ads for Chrysler have already made me more famous than Ï ever wanted to be. And I didn't write it to get rich. I already have every material thing a person could need. That's why I'm donating every penny Ì earn from this book to the Joslin Diabetes Center in Boston. And I didn't write this book to get back at Henry Ford for firing me. I've already done that the old-fashioned American wayby fighting it out in the marketplace. The truth is that I wrote this book to set the record straight (and to keep my mind straight), to tell the story of my life at Ford and at Chrysler the way it really happened. While I was working on it and reliving my life, I kept thinking of all those young people I meet whenever I speak at universities and business schools. If this book can give them a realistic picture of the excitement and challenge of big business in America today and some idea of what is worth fighting for, then all of this hard work will have been worth something. You're about to read the story of a man who's had more than his share of successes. But along the way, there were some pretty bad times, too. In fact, when I look back on my thirty-eight years in the auto industry, the day I remember most vividly had nothing at all to do with new cars and promotions and profits. 1 began my life as the son of immigrants, and I worked my way up to the presidency of the Ford Motor Company. When 1 finally got there, I was on top of the world. But then fate said to me: “Wait. We're not finished with you. Now you're going to find out what it feels like to get kicked off Mt. Everest!” On July 13, 1978, I was fired. I had been president of Ford for eight years and a Ford employee for thirty-two. 1 had never worked anywhere else. And now, suddenly, IT was out of a job. It was gut-wrenching. Officially, my term of employment was to end in three months. But under the terms of my “resignation, at the end of that period 1 was to be given the use of an office until I found a new job. On October 15, my final day at the office, and just incidentally my fifty-fourth birthday, my driver drove me to World Headquarters in Dearborn for the last time. Before I left the house, 1 kissed my wife, Mary, and my two dangh, ters, Kathi and Lia. My family had suffered tremendous during mv final, turbulent months at Ford, and that filled me with rage. Perhaps I was responsible for my own fate. But what about Mary and the girls? Why did they have to gn through this? They were the innocent victims of the despot whose name was on the building. Even today, their pain is what stays with me. It's like the lioness and her cubs. If the hunter knows what's good for him, he'll leave the little ones alone. Henry Ford made my kids suffer, and for that FI never forgive him. The very next day I got into my car and headed out to mv new office. It was in an obscure warehouse on Telegraph Road, only a few miles from Ford's World Headquarters. But for me. it was like visiting another planet. Il wasn't exactly sure where the office was, and it took me a few minutes to find the right building. When 1 finally got there, I didn't even know where to park. As it turned out, there were plenty of people around to show me. Someone had alerted the media that the newly deposed president of Ford would be coming to work here this morning, and a small crowd had gathered to meet me. A TV reporter shoved a microphone in my face and asked: “How do you, feel, coming to this warehouse after eight years at the top! I couldn't bring myself to answer him. What could I say? When I was safely out of camera range, I muttered the truth. “I feel like shit,” I said. My new office was little more than a cubicle with a small desk and a telephone. My secretary, Dorothy Carr. was already there, with tears in her eyes. Without saying a word, she pointed to the cracked linoleum floor and the two plastic coffee cups‚on the desk. Only yesterday, she and I had been working in the lap of luxury. The office of the president was the size of a grand hotel suite. 1 had my own bathroom. I even had my own hving quarters. As a senior Ford executive. I was served bv white-coated waiters who were on call all day. IF once brought some relatives from Italy to see where Ï worked, and they thought they had died and gone to heaven. Today, however, I could have been a million miles away. A few minutes after ll arrived, the depot manager stopped by to pay a courtesy call. He offered to get me a cup of coffee from the machine in the hall. It was a kind gesture, but the incongruity of my being there made us both feel awkward. For me, this was Siberia. It was exile to the farthest corner of the kingdom. 1 was so stunned that it took me a few minutes before I realized 1 had no reason to stay. I had a telephone at home, and somebody could bring me the mail. I left that place before ten o'clock and never went back. This final humiliation was much worse than being fired. It was enough to make me want to kill . I wasn't quite sure who, Henry Ford or myself. Murder or suicide were never real possibilities, but I did start to drink a little more—and shake a lot more. I really felt I was coming apart at the seams. As you go through life, there are thousands of little forks in the road, and there are a few really big forks—those moments of reckoning, moments of truth. This was mine as I wondered what to do. Should I pack it all in and retire? I was fiftv-four years old. I had already accomplished a great deal. I was financially secure. 1 could afford to play golf for the rest of my life. But that just didn't feel right. I knew I had to pick up the pieces and carry on. There are times in everyone's life when something constructive is born out of adversity. There are times when things seem so bad that you've got to grab your fate by the shoulders and shake it. I' m convinced it was that morning at the warehouse that pushed me to take on the presidency of Chrysler only a couple of weeks later. The private pain I could have endured. But the deliberate public humiliation was too much for me. I was full of anger, and I had a simple choice: I could turn that anger against myself, with disastrous results. Or I could take some of that energy and try to do something productive. “Don't get mad,” Mary reminded me. “Get even.” In times of great stress and adversity, it's always best to keep busy, to plow your anger and your energy into something positive. As it turned out, I went from the frying pan into the fire. A year after I signed up, Chrysler came within a whisker of bankruptcy. There were many days at Chrysler when I wondered how I had got myself into this mess...

Bol

He’s an American legend, a straight-shooting businessman who brought Chrysler back from the brink and in the process became a media celebrity, newsmaker, and a man many had urged to run for president. The son of Italian immigrants, Lee Iacocca rose spectacularly through the ranks of Ford Motor Company to become its president, only to be toppled eight years later in a power play that should have shattered him. But Lee Iacocca didn’t get mad, he got even. He led a battle for Chrysler’s survival that made his name a symbol of integrity, know-how, and guts for millions of Americans. In his classic hard-hitting style, he tells us how he changed the automobile industry in the 1960s by creating the phenomenal Mustang. He goes behind the scenes for a look at Henry Ford’s reign of intimidation and manipulation. He recounts the miraculous rebirth of Chrysler from near bankruptcy to repayment of its $1.2 billion government loan so early that Washington didn’t know how to cash the check.

Amazon

Pages: 400, Edition: Illustrated, Paperback, BANTAM