When the magic of the automobile died, the magic of making them did as well
Were it not for President Obama, there would be no strike against the Big Three automakers, because there would be no Big Three.
How fast we forget that just 15 years ago, two of the three, General Motors and Chrysler, were in bankruptcy, surviving only through the creation of Obama’s automotive task force which turned out to be better at running car companies than the car companies themselves.
Be it labor or management, Detroit of the last 50 years has been famous for lousy decisions, born of the notion that it was an industrial juggernaut impervious to external forces. For the previous 50 years in the middle of the 20th century, this was largely true.
Bootlegging in the 1920s put a premium on power and speed. The Duesenberg’s 268 horses roared their way to 120 mph, adding “It’s a doozy” to the lexicon. At the same time, autotourism emphasized luxury and comfort, and cars like the Packard touring sedan set about putting passenger trains out of business.
Cars also became objects of art and personal identity, and autoworkers by the 1930s came to believe that employees at the Queen Bee of American industry deserved a little something for the effort.
United Auto Worker leaders targeting the Big Three today have channeled the past by picketing selected plants — in 1936, unions identified a production choke point in the small number of plants that stamped out fenders, doors and hoods.
Their success with sit-down strikes at these plants dictated labor-management relations for the next half century, not always to everyone’s benefit.
The end of the automobile’s golden age in America can be summed up thusly: the Chevy Vega and Ford Pinto. In the 1970s, the gas was no longer as cheap as tap water, Detroit responded to Japan's fuel-sipping and well-built Hondas, Toyotas and Datsuns with two of the most regrettable cars ever produced. In short order, the Vega was legendary for rust and an aluminum engine that more or less melted at 50,000 miles. The Pinto had to be recalled so steel plates could be welded behind the gas tank to keep them from exploding when rear-ended.
By the 1990s, Detroit had gotten the message. The trim Ford Explorer ignited the SUV trend and saved the company. Yet as the years went by, these vehicles became flabby, inefficient and unexciting (very few SUVs will ever be regarded as a work of art or an engaging ride).
In 2009, many people on both sides of the aisle argued that GM and Chrysler should not be rescued from bankruptcy — Republicans on the grounds of capitalistic Darwinism, Democrats on the notion that Big Industry deserved the fruits of its moral failings.
A key component that salvaged the industry was a restructuring of labor costs of a workforce that was faced with a grim choice: reduced pay or no pay at all.
Along with eliminating rich health and pension plans, this created a two-tier system that somewhat shielded current workers at the time, but meant that, under the current contract, there is no difference in pay between someone assembling Cadillacs and someone assembling Italian subs at the local convenience store.
By consensus, members of the United Auto Workers union deserve better pay than they’re getting now, and companies seem willing to spring for a 20% raise over the duration of the new contract. Workers want 40%, but they also want a return of the expensive suite of benefits that almost killed the American auto industry 15 years ago.
If the UAW were to get what it’s asking, the Big Three would quite simply be unable to compete with foreign and nonunion American car companies.
This issue is bigger than automotives. We have held “manufacturing jobs” in rarified air, implying that rolled up sleeves and greasy hands are the road to what is being called “the dignity of work.”
But there’s no real reason for that, other than historically effective unions. Work on an assembly line floor might not be easy, but it is no more arduous than picking lettuce under a California sun, or, anymore, racing around filling orders at a warehouse.
Producing physical objects has a sense of psychological worth, but there’s no real reason why manufacturing something of metal should pay better than manufacturing something of cloth or of code.
Car-enthusiast magazines cling to the notion that there are great variances among brands, because that’s what sells car-enthusiast magazines. But the truth is that there is not $40,000 worth of difference between a Honda and a BMW. Today’s vehicles are long on capability and short on soul.
It now appears likely that when the magic of the automobile died, the magic of making them did as well.
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Tim Rowland is a Herald-Mail columnist.
This article originally appeared on The Herald-Mail: If UAW gets what it’s asking, the Big Three would be unable to compete
