the triumph and decline of the "squares": grumman aerospace

Transcription

© COPYRIGHT
By
David Hugh Onkst
2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
For Heidi,
who was, and is,
always there for me
THE TRIUMPH AND DECLINE OF THE “SQUARES”: GRUMMAN AEROSPACE
ENGINEERS AND PRODUCTION WORKERS IN THE APOLLO ERA, 1957-1973
By
David Hugh Onkst
ABSTRACT
This dissertation is a social, cultural, and economic history of the men and women
of the Grumman Aerospace Company of Bethpage, New York from 1957 through 1973.
These “Grummanites” were the engineers and production workers who designed and
built the Apollo Lunar Modules that allowed humans to land on the Moon. This study
provides unique insights into the impact that the Apollo Program—a large state-initiated
and -supported program—had on those “squares,” people whom many contemporaries
saw as a vital part of mainstream 1960s American society.
By the beginning of the Space Age in 1957, Grumman, Long Island’s single
largest employer, had firmly established a workplace culture of paternalism that
Grummanites largely embraced. Company officials believed strongly in worker retention
and had established a policy of providing every sort of benefit their employees seemingly
desired, including a highly personal and participatory form of management. Many
Grummanites had joined the firm during the early years of the Apollo Program because
they believed in the promise of permanent employment on exciting projects that would
explore the endless frontier of space. But, as many of these mainly self-reliant,
ii
individualistic “squares” would bitterly discover, their dedication to Grumman did little
to secure their livelihoods during the aerospace industry’s early 1970s downsizing; their
individual successes were too largely tied to federal spending and declined when
Americans grew disenchanted with space exploration.
This dissertation demonstrates how the cultural bond of paternalism between
aerospace workers and their company unraveled in the 1960s, and then ended in the early
1970s, because of forces within the company, the economy, and the American state. The
word "triumph" in this study’s title not only applies to Grummanites’ triumphs with the
Lunar Modules, but also their individual socioeconomic victories. The term “decline”
refers to the early 1970s downsizing of more than a third of the Apollo workforce that
had made that program a reality. By relying on a wide-range of archival research
(including corporate records) and extensive surveys and interviews with Grummanites,
this dissertation provides an overview of how Apollo era aerospace workers interacted
with the Cold War American state.
iii
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Finishing a dissertation is a humbling experience. It allows one to reflect back and
realize how many people have touched one’s life and contributed to one’s development
as a scholar and as a human being. Many people and organizations have sustained me as I
completed this milestone, and I’d like to thank them publically. Unfortunately, I will
undoubtedly forget to acknowledge some who deserve mention, but I trust, despite my
oversight, that they will realize how much I appreciated all that they did for me.
First, I would like to thank my dissertation committee, which was carefully
chaired by Peter Kuznick, and included Allan Lichtman and Roger Launius. Each of
them contributed significantly to the development of this work and offered substantial
and thoughtful comments. Although I didn’t always heed all of their advice and counsel,
they helped me mold this monograph into a much better work than it would have been
without their keen eyes and sharp critiques. Early in the process, Michael Kazin played
an important role. Through many thought-provoking conversations and discussions he
inspired me to take a kernel of an idea and turn it into a strong project proposal. And the
late Bob Griffith also provided constant feedback along the way. I only wish that Bob had
lived long enough to see me complete this work, but I know that he guided me along in
other ways as I brought it home.
iv
Many people have welcomed me into the space history community and assisted
me with my career and the development of this dissertation. Shortly after arriving in
Washington, DC in the early 1990s, John Logsdon offered me a research position at the
George Washington University’s Space Policy Institute, which further stimulated my
interest in the field. I also met Dwayne Day there, who has remained a good friend and a
constant source of motivation. John and Dwayne introduced me to a number of people in
the field, including those at NASA and the National Air and Space Museum. Several
individuals in the NASA History Office took an interest in this work from its very
beginning, including Stephen Garber, Jane Odom, Colin Fries, John Hargenrader, Liz
Suchow, Glen Asner, Mark Kahn, and Nadine Andreassen. All of them were extremely
helpful during my tenure as the 1999-2000 AHA Fellow in Aerospace History and have
continued to assist me with research to this day. A little bit further down the street from
NASA, at the National Air and Space Museum, Michael Neufeld, Allan Needell, David
DeVorkin, Martin Collins, Paul Ceruzzi, Valerie Neal, Tom Crouch, and Margaret
Weitekamp gave me an inspiring environment in which to work as a Smithsonian
Predoctoral Fellow. They regularly peppered me with penetrating questions and pushed
me to think differently as I approached my research. They also provided many enjoyable
lunch hours as I grappled with various challenges. Their thoughtful guidance along the
way was greatly appreciated. Additionally, I’d like to recognize the museum’s library
and archive staff for helping me access a wide variety of sources in a timely manner.
Other archivists and librarians who also offered a great deal of assistance include
historian Josh Stoff at the Cradle of Aviation Museum, the staff at the Long Island
v
Studies Institute at Hofstra University, and William Lefevre at the Walter P. Reuther
Library at Wayne State University. I also wish to thank the National Science Foundation
for providing me with an award at a key moment in the research process.
Exploring the history of Grummanites has been an extremely exciting and
satisfying endeavor. It would not have been possible, however, without the assistance of
several key Grummanites. Dick Dunn was the first one to put me in touch with the good
folks at the Northrop Grumman History Center in 1997. There, Larry Feliu, Lynn
McDonald, George Hendry, and the late Roger Seybel, all offered extensive support as I
poured through records of the history of the organization and its people. Ross Fleisig
shared copies of his personal papers with me, and Joe Dudek and Don Imgram introduced
me to the Grumman Retiree Clubs in Bethpage, Long Island, and in the Washington, DC
area. Meeting such a large number of former Grummanites was a meaningful experience,
and their involvement ensured that my project would become a reality. Many of them
filled out surveys and questionnaires and took the time to answer my many questions in
person. I only hope this dissertation facilitates a better understand of their personal stories
and careers.
Throughout this process, there have been many friends and family members who
have stood by my side. Deep gratitude goes to my mother, my father, and my wife’s
family, for their unwavering support. And a special shout out to Uncle Harold, one of my
favorite history conversationalists. I also received generous encouragement from several
friends at the University of Maryland’s Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center during the
home stretch of completing my Ph.D.—many thanks to Fallon and Matt Bachman, Ed
vi
Lewis and Scott Palmer, Scott Eichinger and Jason Lott, and Debby and Victor Vargas.
People I know from the Round House Theatre also provided years of moral support while
I grinded through the dissertation process, including Alice Baer (who painstakingly
entered all of the information from the Grummanite Survey/Questionnaires into an Excel
spreadsheet!), Ira Hillman and Jeremy Barber, Susan McGee, Janet Tuthill, Gary and
Stacy Cardillo, Adrian Ballard, Katha Kissman, Jerry Whiddon, Mal and Dottie Knapp,
and Melissa-Leigh and Carlos Bustamante. In an effort to escape the rigors of study, I
often went orienteering with great friends who not only offered a good distraction from
my work, but who were there for me during good and bad times, including Ted and
Darcy Good, Peggy Dickison and Nadim Ahmed, Greg and Kathleen Lennon, Jan and
Dasa Merka, Tim Good, Valerie Meyer, Tom and Trish Strat, Tom Nolan, Eddie
Bergeron, Brad Whitmore, and all of my other orienteering buddies, especially those
from the Quantico Orienteering Club. Finally, there are several long-time friends and
colleagues who I want to recognize. These include Greg and Christina Viscomi, Dave
Brandt and Heather Lair, Jodie Allison-Bunnell, Lisa Forrest and Herb Golden, Andy
Butrica, Karyn Strickler, Ken Durr, Rich Taylor, Dave Hamdy, Tim and Mickey
Hammett, the late Uday Mohan (my great jazz buddy), and, of course, Bernie Unti (a.k.a.
Howard)—a wonderful comrade-in-arms at AU, and the best neighbor in the world. All
of these people contributed to my sanity and health along the way (more than they will
ever know), and I am tremendously grateful for their friendship.
Last, but most importantly, this dissertation came to fruition because of the unflagging
dedication and support of four incredible souls. First, my sister Chérie has always
vii
supported me. She has helped me with everything ranging from computer problems to
the big questions about life. She also dealt with many of the formatting and styling issues
as well as proof-reading the work. Second, Art Dwight, my personal coach, stepped into
my life three years ago and motivated me to reenergize my drive and passion for this
project. He was there at this project’s most crucial juncture and was absolutely essential
to bringing me to this moment of completion. Third, not enough can be said about my
close friend and colleague Liz Stewart. Liz began the Ph.D. program at American
University with me many years ago, and, although she completed her monograph long
before I did, she tirelessly stayed in “dissertation mode” with me and offered numerous
comments and suggestions on ways I could improve mine. She has read every single
word of this work many times over and provided numerous edits. I cannot thank her
enough for her profound generosity and everything she has done for me as a friend and
colleague. And finally, there is my wife Heidi. She is everything to me. She has been the
best friend and partner I could ever imagine. She has always been there to support me in
absolutely every way. Without her, this dissertation—and my wonderful life so far—
would not have been possible. This work is humbly dedicated to her.
Rockville, MD, July 2011
viii
INTRODUCTION
Walter Burt came from the coal fields of Pennsylvania. At the Grumman Aircraft
Engineering Company, his life took on a new pride and passion. Burt was one of the lead
production workers on the Apollo Lunar Module's cable system during the 1960s. Every
day, he arrived at Grumman an hour early in order to discuss ideas with colleagues about
ways they could improve their work and make it more efficient; he also spent countless
hours beyond his regular duties to make sure everything was "just right" with the Lunar
Module (LM). Burt took great pride in the fact that his hands touched something daily
that men were going to use to land on the Moon.1
Joe Gavin took just as much pride in his work as the Director of Grumman's LM
Program. Gavin had followed a different path than Burt on his way to Grumman. After
obtaining a degree in aeronautical engineering at the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology (MIT), Gavin began slowly working his way up through Grumman's
engineering corps. Throughout his career, he spent many nights on a cot in his office and
only caught a few hours of sleep. By the summer of 1972, Gavin would become the
President of the Grumman Aerospace Company.2
1
Jimmy Breslin, "No Reason Now to Go in Early," Newsday, 30 July 1972, “LM Production,”
Vertical Files, Cradle of Aviation Museum, East Garden City, NY. Hereinafter cited as CAM.
2
"Fly Me to the Moon: An Interview with Joseph G. Gavin, Jr.,” Technology Review (July 1994):
62.
1
2
That same summer, Walter Burt heard some discouraging news on the radio while
driving home from work. Grumman, which had been considered one of the front-runners
for the Space Shuttle contract, had lost the $2.6 billion job to North American Rockwell.
That meant layoffs were imminent. While it is difficult to uncover whether Burt was one
of those who lost their jobs, one thing is clear: many of Burt's friends and colleagues,
from engineers to production workers, were among those dropped from the company's
payroll as the Apollo Program came to an end. 3
Burt's and Gavin's stories exemplify the range of emotions that many aerospace
workers felt during the Apollo era. At times, there were moments of intense pride and joy
in knowing that their work had made a difference to their company and country; there
were also moments of despair, however, when they found out that their job, or a
colleague's job, would soon be gone. This study explores those bittersweet times for
Grumman workers and management during the Apollo era and tries to make sense of
them within the context of the 1960s and early 1970s.
This history of Grumman aerospace engineers and production workers during the
Apollo era provides unique insights into the impact that the U.S. civil space program has
had on American society. During the 1960s, the burgeoning business of space
exploration put a vast number of Americans to work. At that time, the aerospace industry
3
Jimmy Breslin, "No Reason Now to Go in Early," Newsday, 30 July 1972, “LM Production,”
Vertical Files, CAM.
3
was the largest manufacturing employer in the nation.4 At the height of the Apollo
Program, approximately one out of every fifty Americans was working on some aspect of
the project.5 Grumman, one of the largest and most important aerospace companies in
the Northeast, was one of the key players in the new field of space exploration, thanks to
the Apollo Lunar Module and Orbiting Astronomical Observatory (OAO) contracts that
the company had won in the early 1960s. During the Apollo era, the Bethpage, New
York, manufacturer would become Long Island's single largest employer, with over
37,000 workers and a billion-dollar corporation.6
One of the overarching historical questions this study helps address is how large
state-initiated and -supported programs, and the companies that helped facilitate those
programs, affected the people who worked on such enterprises. Conversely, this project
also explores how those workers interacted with the government, or in this case, how they
interacted with a major aerospace company and the Cold War American state of the
1960s. This study analyzes these questions by exploring the socioeconomic, cultural, and
professional lives of the engineers and production workers of the Grumman Corporation's
4
Aerospace Industries Association Industrial Relations Committee, "National Goals and the
Aerospace Industry," April 1971, 2, "Aerospace Industry," Section A-12, Northrop Grumman History
Center, Bethpage, NY. Hereinafter cited as NGHC.
5
For the statistics about the number of people who worked on the Apollo program, see Roger
Launius, NASA: A History of the U.S. Civil Space Program (Malabar, FL: Krieger Publishing Company,
1994), 70.
6
For information about employment numbers, see "Employee-Population, As of 1st of Month,"
"Personnel," Section A-8, NGHC. Grumman became a billion-dollar corporation in sales for the first time in
1966. See H. E. Bockrath to Len Victor, Long Island Press, 29 November 1966, "Personnel," Section A-8,
NGHC.
4
Aerospace Division from the birth of the Space Age in 1957, through their triumphs with
the Apollo Lunar Modules and Orbiting Astronomical Observatories during the 1960s
and early 1970s, to the end of the Apollo era and the subsequent aerospace industry
recession (or depression, for some) of 1972-1973. As a whole, this dissertation seeks to
provide a much-needed overview of what aerospace engineers' and workers' lives were like
during the "Golden Age" of the American space program and its immediate aftermath.
“Grummanites”—as Grumman employees like to refer to themselves—were
deeply affected by several of the social and cultural movements that helped define the
1960s and 1970s. Most Grummanites experienced certain aspects of the organized labor
movement and the African-American freedom struggle, as well as the beginning of the
reconfiguration of traditional gender norms. Many of these actions took place within and
around Grumman. Grummanites did not merely experience these social and cultural
movements passively; they saw them up-close and personal. Some perceived these
sociocultural shifts as distractions to themselves and fellow aerospace workers who had
dedicated themselves to putting American astronauts on the Moon before the end of the
1960s.
Only a few historical works have offered insights into the lives of aerospace
industry workers during the 1960s and 1970s, and they have been NASA-sponsored
histories. One outstanding book on the subject is Sylvia Doughty Fries‟s NASA
Engineers and the Age of Apollo (1992), which focuses on the lives of fifty-one NASA
engineers who worked at the Space Agency during the Apollo Program. However,
because Fries‟s work is only centered on NASA employees, not contractors, this
5
dissertation provides a very different perspective by focusing on Grumman employees.7
Similarly, while Howard McCurdy‟s Inside NASA: High Technology and Organizational
Change in the U.S. Space Program (1993) provides important insight into NASA
employees and their organizational culture from the 1950s through the 1980s, it is still
centered solely on the government space agency. 8 There are also several histories about
the agency‟s various centers across the country that provide occasional glimpses into the
lives of workers, as do some of the autobiographies and memoirs of various NASA
officials and administrators, but again these works are focused mainly on space agency
personnel. 9 It is also worth noting that there are a few histories of various aerospace
7
Sylvia Doughty Fries, NASA Engineers and the Age of Apollo (Washington, DC: NASA SP4104, 1992).
8
Howard McCurdy‟s Inside NASA: High Technology and Organizational Change in the U.S.
Space Program (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993).
9
A few examples of the NASA sponsored histories of the agency‟s various centers include:
Andrew J. Dunar and Stephen P. Waring, Power to Explore: A History of Marshall Space Flight Center,
1960-1990 (Washington: NASA SP-4313, 1999); Henry C. Dethloff, “Suddenly Tomorrow Came…”: A
History of the Johnson Space Center, 1957-1990 (Washington: NASA SP-4307, 1993); James R. Hansen,
Spaceflight Revolution: NASA Langley Research Center from Sputnik to Apollo (Washington: NASA SP4308, 1995); Lane E. Wallace, Dreams, Hopes, Realities. NASA‟s Goddard Space Flight Center: The First
Forty Years (Washington: NASA SP-4312, 1999); Charles D. Benson and William Barnaby Faherty,
Moonport: A History of Apollo Launch Facilities and Operations (Washington: NASA SP-4204, 1978);
Alfred Rosenthal, Venture into Space: Early Years of Goddard Space Flight Center (Washington: NASA
SP-4301, 1985); Seth B. Anderson, Memoirs of an Aeronautical Engineer: Flight Tests at Ames Research
Center: 1940-1970 Monograph in Aerospace History, No. 26, 2002, (Washington: NASA SP-2002-4526);
and Curtis Peebles, ed., The Spoken Word: Recollections of Dryden History, The Early Years Monograph
in Aerospace History, No. 30, 2003 (Washington: NASA SP-2003-4530). William Barnaby Faherty,
Florida‟s Space Coast: The Impact of NASA on the Sunshine State (Gainesville, FL: University Press of
Florida, 2002) also provides some insights into space program workers‟ lives.
Some examples of NASA-oriented biographies include: Henry W. Lambright, Powering Apollo:
James E. Webb of NASA (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995); Robert C. Seamans Aiming
at Targets: The Autobiography of Robert C. Seamans (Washington: NASA SP-4106, 1996); Keith T.
Glennan, The Birth of NASA: The Diary of T. Keith Glennan, edited by J.D. Hunley (Washington: NASA
SP-4105, 1993); Gene Kranz Failure is not an Option: Mission Control From Mercury to Apollo 13 and
Beyond (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2009); Christopher Kraft, Flight: My Life in Mission Control,
6
companies that contain occasional passages about their employees. However, they are
company histories, not works specifically dedicated to the subject of aerospace workers.10
A few books do offer glimpses into the lives of Grummanites during the Apollo
period. Tom Kelly‟s excellent memoir Moon Lander: How We Developed the Apollo
Lunar Module (2001), which mainly focuses on Kelly‟s experiences as Grumman‟s LM
Program Engineer, provides insight into Grummanites‟ lives during the 1960s and 1970s
from an insider‟s perspective.11 Similarly, George Skurla and William Gregory‟s Inside
the Iron Works: How Grumman‟s Glory Days Faded (2004) also reveals some
information about Grumman‟s rank-and-file workers. In this memoir, Skurla, who had
been the company‟s F-14 Program Manager, as well as the man in charge of the LMs
down at Cape Canaveral, shares some interesting stories about Grummanites during the
Apollo era.12 But perhaps the best work about rank-and-file Grummanites up to this point
has been Charles Pellegrino and Joshua Stoff‟s Chariots for Apollo: The Making of the
(New York: Plume, 2002); and Glen W. Swanson, editor, “Before This Decade is Out…”: Personal
Reflections on the Apollo Program (Gainesville: The University Press of Florida, 2002).
10
Although not an actual corporate history, Joan Lisa Bromberg, NASA and the Space Industry
(Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999) offers good insights into the agency and its interactions
with the aerospace industry. Some corporate-oriented histories worth noting include: Mike Gray, Angle of
Attack: Harrison Storms and the Race to the Moon (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1992); William
b. Harwood, Raise Heaven and Earth: The Story of Martin Marietta People and Their Pioneering
Achievements, (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1993); Walter J. Boyne, Beyond the Horizon: The Story of
Lockheed (New York: Thomas Dunne Books, 1998); and Robert J. Serling, Legend & Legacy: The Story
of Boeing and Its People (New York: St. Martins Press, 1991).
11
Thomas J. Kelly, Moon Lander: How We Developed the Apollo Lunar Module (Washington:
Smithsonian Institution Press, 2001.)
12
George M. Skurla and William H. Gregory Inside the Iron Works: How Grumman‟s Glory Days
Faded (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2004).
7
Lunar Module (1985), republished in 1999 with the slightly altered title Chariots for
Apollo: The Untold Story Behind the Race to the Moon.13 Pellegrino and Stoff conducted
extensive interviews in the early 1980s with many of the Grummanites who helped
design and build the LMs. While the book is an exciting and popular account of that
process and the problems Grummanites encountered, it is solely focused on that story,
unlike this dissertation, which looks more broadly at how Grummanites experienced
many of the social and cultural issues of the 1960s and 1970s. 14
A recent, more analytic Grumman-oriented work is Stephen Raymond Patnode‟s
dissertation “Labor‟s Love Lost: The Influence of Gender, Race, and Class on the
Workplace in Postwar America” (2008). Patnode spends approximately a third of his
work looking at certain aspects of Grummanites‟ lives from the 1940s to the 1970s and
“assesses the role that gender, class, and race played in the decision of some workers to
reject unions.”15 Although Patnode makes some important and interesting observations
about the culture of “masculinity” among Grummanites during the postwar era, his
emphasis on the foundational years of what he argues is Grumman‟s gendered culture—
the 1940s and 1950s—represents an entirely different focus from this work. This
dissertation looks at Grummanites during the Apollo era and places workers in the
13
Charles R. Pellegrino and Joshua Stoff Chariots for Apollo: The Making of the Lunar Module,
(New York: Atheneum, 1985); and Charles Pellegrino and Joshua Stoff, Chariots for Apollo: The Untold
Story Behind the Race to the Moon (New York: Avon Books, 1999).
14
Although Pellegrino and Stoff‟s republished version of their book has an extensive “Afterword”
describing where the historical participants were in 1999 that is the only change from the original version.
15
Stephen Raymond Patnode, “Labor‟s Love Lost: The Influence of Gender, Race, and Class on
the Workplace in Postwar America” (Ph.D. diss., Stony Brook University, 2008), iii.
8
context of the political economy of the national mobilization to reach a new frontier, a
much different story. Finally, two other Grumman-specific works from the 1970s deserve
mention. Political scientist Randolph Paul Kucera‟s 1973 dissertation Grumman Aircraft
Engineering Corporation and its "Familial” Relationship with the United States Navy
does an excellent job exploring the strong bond the company had with the seafaring
service, while Richard Thruelsen‟s The Grumman Story (1976) remains the standard
general company history. 16
In closing this discussion about the historiographic significance of this
dissertation, it is important to note that this work is not a history of the Lunar Modules.
There have already been some outstanding books on that subject, some of which have
been mentioned previously. In addition to the works of Kelly, Pellegrino, and Stoff,
readers can obtain an excellent overview of the LMs, as well as the Apollo
Command/Service Module, by looking at Courtney Brooks, James Grimwood, and Loyd
Swenson‟s Chariots for Apollo: A History of Manned Lunar Spacecraft (1979).17 It
remains one of the key works on the subject. The multi-volume, NASA-sponsored, The
Apollo Spacecraft chronologies (1969-1974), also provide a wealth of information about
the LMs. 18 David Mindell‟s recent book Digital Apollo: Human and Machine in
16
Randolph Paul Kucera, “Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation and its "Familial”
Relationship with the United States Navy” (Ph.D. dissertation, Syracuse University, 1973); and Richard
Thruelsen, The Grumman Story (New York, NY: Praeger Publishers, 1976).
17
Courtney G. Brooks, James M. Grimwood, and Loyd S. Swenson, Jr., Chariots for Apollo: A
History of Manned Lunar Spacecraft (Washington: NASA SP-4205, 1979).
18
Ivan D. Ertel and Mary Louise Morse, The Apollo Spacecraft: A Chronology, Volume I,
Through November 7, 1962 (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4009, 1969); Mary Louise Morse and Jean
9
Spaceflight (2008) is a fascinating look at the conflict between the astronauts‟ desire to
pilot the LM and allowing flight by automated systems. Mindell reveals the inspired
design compromise that was reached.19 Finally, Joshua Stoff‟s Building Moonships: The
Grumman Lunar Module (2004), although essentially a pictorial reference guide, still
provides a great deal of information about Grumman‟s role in the history of the Lunar
Modules.20
This dissertation is based on extensive archival research at the Northrop
Grumman History Center, the NASA Historical Reference Collection, the Smithsonian
Institution‟s National Air and Space Museum Archives and Library, the Library of
Congress, the National Archives, the Cradle of Aviation Museum, the Long Island
Studies Institute, and the United Auto Workers Archives. It also relies on several oral
histories of Grummanites and personal interviews and correspondence with them. Finally,
Kernahan Bays, The Apollo Spacecraft: A Chronology, Volume II, November 8, 1962-September 30, 1964
(Washington, DC: NASA SP-4009, 1973); Courtney G. Brookes and Ivan D. Ertel, The Apollo Spacecraft:
A Chronology, Volume III, October 1, 1964-January 20, 1966 (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4009, 1973);
Ivan D. Ertel and Roland W. Newkird with Courtney G. Brooks The Apollo Spacecraft: A Chronology,
Volume IV, January 21, 1966-July 13, 1974 (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4009, 1974).
19
David A. Mindell, Digital Apollo: Human and Machine in Spaceflight (Cambridge: MIT Press,
2008).
20
Joshua Stoff, Building Moonships: The Grumman Lunar Module (Charleston, SC: Arcadia
Publishing, 2004). For those readers wishing to see the strict technical aspects of the LMs, there are also a
few excellent photographic and pictorial works on the Lunar Module‟s architecture. Two good examples
are Scott P. Sullivan, Virtual LM: A Pictorial Essay of the Engineering and Construction of the Apollo
Lunar Module, the historic spacecraft that landed man on the Moon (Burlington, Ontario, Canada: Apogee
Books, 2004); and Christopher Riley, NASA Apollo 11: An Insight into the Hardware from the First
Manned Mission to Land on the Moon (United Kingdom: Haynes Publishing, 2010).
For an excellent bibliography of LM related material from 1994, see “Chapter 4: Apollo
Technology” in Roger D. Launius and J.D. Hunley, An Annotated Bibliography of the Apollo Program
NASA Monographs in Aerospace History, Number 2, (Washington, DC: NASA History Office, July 1994),
23-28.
10
it is important to note briefly a very key source used to complete this dissertation—an
extensive historical survey/questionnaire completed by thirty-one former Grummanites.
They were members of Grumman retiree clubs on Long Island and in the Washington,
DC, area in the fall of 1999 (when the questionnaire was administered). The survey
consists of eighty-nine questions about their socioeconomic backgrounds and their
experiences during the Apollo era. Originally, roughly 280 questionnaires were handed
out at the retiree club meetings. Thirty-one were completed, representing a return rate of
approximately 11%. Although these Grummanites were a self-selected group, given the
fact that they were members of a retiree club, they still represent a vital link to the history
of Grummanites and their lives during the 1960s and early 1970s.
The title of this dissertation—“The Triumph and Decline of the „Squares‟”—is a
reference to NASA Administrator Thomas Paine's comment about the success of the
Apollo 8 Mission in December 1968. The day after Apollo 8 astronauts Frank Borman,
James Lovell, and William Anders became the first men ever to orbit the Moon, Paine
praised the efforts of the engineers and others who had made the mission a success. At
the time, he declared the feat "The Triumph of the Squares"; since then, the phrase has
been used repeatedly to describe the overall effort of the engineers and scientists who
worked on Apollo. 21 In that spirit, this dissertation associates the phrase with the
Grummanites who designed and built the LMs. Paine‟s observation encapsulated a
21
For more details on Paine's phrase, see Houston Chronicle, 27 December 1968; and "Memorandum
For Mr. Sherrod," 17 January 1969. Both found in "Thomas O. Paine Administrative Files," NASA Historical
Reference Collection, NASA Headquarters, Washington, DC (hereinafter cited as NHRC).
11
cultural tension reaching its peak in the late 1960s and early 1970s. The term "square"
began to take on a new and unflattering meaning for the American counterculture in the
1950s, connoting a person who was unimaginative, shortsighted, excessively moralistic,
and “unhip.” Indeed, many aerospace engineers physically exemplified the
counterculture‟s image of a square, because they always seemed to be wearing dress
shirts and ties, complete with pocket protectors. Yet as NASA Administrator Paine noted
in a 1970 commencement address at Worcester Polytechnic Institute (provocatively titled
“Squareland, Potland, and Space,”) many Americans continued to think of a square as a
person who was fair, just, straightforward, morally upright, and clearly centered in the
"mainstream" of American society. In the culture wars of the 1960s, Grummanites
perceived Apollo as a triumph for squares—a triumph for those who dedicated
themselves wholeheartedly to an American, as well as a company, goal.
Unlike many other historical studies about the 1960s that focus primarily on the
left-leaning social movements of the era, this study explores a particular aspect of what
many contemporaries believed was the backbone of middle America.22 To be sure, this
dissertation does reveal how many of the key social movements of the 1960s affected
Grummanites, but it does so from their perspective. The word "triumph" in this
dissertation‟s title not only applies to the Grumman engineers' technological and
emotional triumphs with the LM and OAOs, but also their individual socioeconomic
22
For an example of the more flattering interpretation of the term "square," see "Squareland, Potland
and Space," Commencement Address by Dr. Thomas Paine, NASA Administrator, at Worcester Polytechnic
Institute, 7 June 1970, NHRC.
12
victories. The space program afforded hundreds of thousands of Americans the
opportunity to advance themselves socially, economically, and professionally, albeit
sometimes briefly, and Grummanites were no exception. Many of them would take
advantage of the professional and economic opportunities that the U.S. civil space
program offered to realize their middle-class aspirations. Believing their efforts would be
repaid with lifelong employment, many resisted increasing evidence that traditional
values such as unconditional company loyalty and dedication to craft were “square.” But
for those who lost their jobs in the post-Space Race “decline” of the 1970s, those middleclass hopes and aspirations were short-lived.
This dissertation consists of six chapters and a conclusion. Chapter One briefly
explores the history of Grumman and the development of its unique organizational and
work culture. It also reveals the relationship that the company‟s employees had with one
another. It then explores how the company‟s culture and personal relationships changed
when Grumman began working with NASA in the 1960s. Grummanites logged a great
deal of overtime designing and building the LMs. President John F. Kennedy‟s deadline
of landing a man on the Moon before the end of the 1960s put enormous pressure on
them to produce the Lunar Modules on time. As a result, many Grummanites‟ lives
changed because of their work on the program, and Chapter One explores those changes
within the context of the Space Race and NASA‟s goals. It concludes by delving into
what Grummanites‟ expectations were when they began working on the space program
and juxtaposes those expectations with some broader cultural ideas about space
exploration, particularly those developed by Wernher von Braun and his colleagues.
13
Chapters Two and Three investigate how Grummanites experienced some of the
key social movements of the era. The second chapter focuses on the company‟s labor
relations. It explores the question of why Grumman remained one of only two major
aerospace companies that never unionized. By the early 1960s, 93% of the aerospace
industry had been organized; only Grumman, and, ironically, Northrop (which would
take over Grumman in 1994), remained non-union. Chapter Two investigates
Grummanites‟ steadfast anti-unionism within the context of the company‟s unique
paternalistic culture. It also provides some important insights into the different
approaches that the United Auto Workers and the International Association of Machinists
used in trying to entice the workers to join them. Chapter Three explores the issue of the
company‟s race relations. It is the story of what happened when a small group of AfricanAmerican Grummanites, who were dissatisfied with their progress at the firm, challenged
the company and demanded that it help them improve their occupational positions and
status. Thanks to the growth of equal employment laws in the 1960s, this group of
workers took legal action and pushed their case all the way to federal court. They also
tried to organize a mass strike against the company. In short, Chapter Three is the story
of what happened when the Civil Rights Movement came to Grumman.
Chapter Four focuses on the history of Grumman‟s downsizing in the late 1960s
and early 1970s. The company‟s first significant layoffs of that period began in the winter
of 1967, almost two years before Apollo 8 orbited the Moon. By early 1971, Grumman
had lost roughly one-quarter of its 1960s workforce. As the region‟s largest employer,
Grumman‟s downsizing had a significant trickle-down effect on Long Island, both
14
psychologically and economically. This section of the dissertation explores this story and
then places the Reduction-in-Force (RIF) within a regional and national context. It also
looks at the breakdown of traditional gender roles and the loss of masculine identity in
the home when many of the engineers who received pink slips were unable to find new
jobs. Chapter Four also reveals how Grumman‟s paternalistic culture began to unravel as
a result of all of the downsizing. Although some Grummanites took solace in the fact that
the company had won the Navy‟s new F-14 fighter jet contract in 1969, that program did
not reverse the decline in employment at Grumman quickly enough. As 1972 approached,
Grumman management decided to put all of the company‟s energy into trying to win
NASA‟s upcoming Space Shuttle contract. If the company could secure that job, it would
reenergize the firm and assure its future.
Chapter Five investigates the complicated and intertwining stories of Grumman‟s
F-14 “Tomcat” Program and the company‟s bid to win the Space Shuttle contract. In an
effort to secure the Tomcat in 1969, Grumman had pursued a “fixed-price” agreement
with the Navy; company president Lew Evans was convinced that the firm had to win the
job or else it would be out of the fighter jet business forever. Unfortunately for
Grumman, although the “fixed-price” idea attracted the Navy, and was calculated to
adjust to a normal rate of inflation, it actually ended-up seriously jeopardizing the
company‟s future. When the recession hit in the early 1970s and inflation skyrocketed,
Grumman lost a considerable amount of money on every F-14 it built. Congressional
hearings ensued and were taking place even as Grumman prepared to submit its final bid
for the Space Shuttle. Chapter Five explores this complex story and reveals how the F-14
15
contract impacted the company‟s attempt to secure the Shuttle. It also looks at how
NASA and Grumman‟s previous work relationship on the LM Program affected the
firm‟s bid. Having put all of their hopes into winning the Shuttle, Grummanites were
devastated when North American Rockwell got the job. In the aftermath of the loss,
Grumman officials and state and local politicians scrambled to try to secure Shuttle
subcontracting work to try to keep as many Grummanites on the job as they could.
However, the subcontracting positions would not come until well into 1973, and by that
time it would be too late to save many Grummanites‟ jobs. As Chapter Five closes, it
focuses on how Grumman‟s paternalistic culture was coming apart during the postApollo layoffs in the recession of the early 1970s.
The last chapter of this dissertation looks at the state of the aerospace industry in
the early 1970s. It explores how industry experts‟ views about the future of aerospace
quickly changed within the course of only a couple of years. In 1969 the sector‟s leading
authorities were recommending job and skill reconversion as the best way for the
industry to handle Apollo‟s downsizing. Former aerospace engineers could help alleviate
many of the nation‟s problems—including its urban, social, environmental, and
transportation challenges—if they applied their skills to other economic sectors.
Theoretically, the plan made sense, but when the recession of the early 1970s hit, and
funding dried up, even reconversion was no longer a viable option to solve massive
unemployment among aerospace engineers. This chapter reveals that no one had a good
answer for the aerospace unemployment crisis. Chapter Six also looks at three key
unemployment studies about aerospace workers in the mid-1960s by the U.S. Arms
16
Control and Disarmament Agency. These investigations, which assess the unemployment
experiences of thousands of workers in very different regions of the country, include
studies of Boeing in Seattle, Martin in Denver, and Republic Aviation in Farmingdale,
Long Island (Grumman‟s neighboring firm). Taken together, these case studies reveal the
host of problems unemployed aerospace workers faced when they tried to find jobs, even
during a period when the perception was that Apollo employment was still on the rise.
Overall, Chapter Six looks at the ways in which aerospace workers confronted the decline
of their hope of lifetime employment.
The 1960s was a time of great excitement and pride for Grummanites. It was a
period of incredible technological advances and unprecedented individual growth. The
space program had afforded many of them opportunities to advance socially,
economically, and professionally, and they had made the most of the opportunity. The
Apollo era was also a time when Grummanites learned to work in an entirely different
manner; NASA's new testing procedures and organizational methods essentially forced
them to create a new work environment that was more responsive to the major changes
brought on by the challenges of human space flight. They also faced pressures from the
labor and civil rights movements that tried to alter their organizational and work culture.
In some cases, these challenges threated their very jobs, or at least that‟s the way it
seemed to them. Perhaps most significantly for Grummanites, all these forces—NASA‟s
technocratic culture, the radical democracy of the era‟s social movements, and the
waning of a national commitment to the frontier of space—had helped to slowly unravel
the company‟s paternalistic culture throughout the 1960s and early 1970s. For their part,
17
Grummanites had to come to terms with whether the squares would indeed triumph or
would ultimately decline.
CHAPTER ONE
GRUMMAN, NASA, THE SPACE RACE, AND THE
PROMISE OF THE ENDLESS FRONTIER
When Grumman first started constructing airplanes during the early years of the
Great Depression, the company began developing a unique culture. That culture remained
intact well into the 1960s when the firm built the Apollo Lunar Modules, the spacecraft
that allowed the U.S. to realize President John F. Kennedy‘s goal of landing a man on the
Moon before the end of that decade. This chapter explores the development of
Grumman‘s culture and then assesses some of the changes it went through during the
Space Age as the company began working with NASA. It also discusses the effects that
the Space Race had on Grummanites and questions what drove them to sacrifice countless
hours working on the Lunar Modules. The final section seeks to understand what
Grumman engineers‘ occupational expectations were going into the 1960s. A history of
Grummanites during the Apollo era allows us to better understand the hopes and dreams
of many of the Americans who helped the U.S. civil space program reach the Moon.
Grumman and Its ―Cradle to Grave Culture‖
Grumman started designing and building aircraft in a small garage about twenty
miles east of Manhattan in January 1930. Four men were essentially responsible for the
growth and development of the firm: Leroy ―Roy‖ Grumman, a former Navy pilot and
18
19
engineer; Leon ―Jake‖ Swirbul, one of Grumman‘s close friends and an ex-Marine;
William Schwendler, a former aeronautical engineer with the Chance Vought Company;
and Clinton Towl, an accountant with a couple of years of engineering studies under his
belt.1 The Long Island manufacturer started with only twenty-one employees. During the
Depression, however, the company expanded considerably, thanks to several contracts
with the Navy. Roy Grumman‘s connections with the seafaring service worked to the
firm‘s advantage, and the company developed a ―familial‖ relationship with that branch of
the military service.2 By World War II, Grumman had grown so much that it needed to
move further out onto Long Island and establish new facilities. 3
During World War II, Grumman established itself as one of the leading aircraft
manufacturers, employing approximately 25,500 workers.4 A long and well-known line of
Navy fighters emerged from the company's new plants in Bethpage during the war,
including the carrier-based F6F, the famous "Hellcat." As many naval pilots would attest,
1
Three other men were key investors in Grumman in the very beginning, but did very little to
contribute to its development and growth, they included A. P. Loening, Grover Loening, and E. W. Poor.
The Loenings had opened a small aircraft company for a short while in the 1920s, but it failed. Roy
Grumman, Swirbul, Schwendler, and Towl had all worked at Loening. For an extensive discussion about
Grumman‘s beginning, see Richard Thruelsen, The Grumman Story (New York, NY: Praeger Publishers,
1976), 17-69. For more about the personalities of Grumman, Swirbul, Schwendler and Towl, see George
M. Skurla and William H. Gregory, Inside the Iron Works: How Grumman‘s Glory Days Faded
(Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2004), 11.
2
By 1933, approximately 75% of Grumman‘s sales came from Navy contracts. See Randolph
Paul Kucera, ―Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation and its ‗Familial‘ Relationship with the
United States Navy‖ (Ph.D. diss., Syracuse University, 1973), 113.
3
For an in-depth discussion about Grumman‘s move out onto Long Island, see Thruelsen, The
Grumman Story, 57-93.
4
Grumman reached the height of its World War II employment in September 1943 when
approximately 25,500 employees worked there. See, "Employee-Population, As of 1st of Month," "Personnel,"
Section A-8, Northrop Grumman History Center, Bethpage, NY, (hereinafter cited as NGHC).
20
the Hellcat and its cousins performed amazingly well over the Pacific. Grumman fighters
could withstand extensive combat damage and still bring their pilots safely back to their
ships. As a result, the company gained an outstanding reputation for its designs and
products.5 Some people began calling Grumman the "Iron Works" because of the solid
fighters it had built; others claimed that the name Grumman stamped on a product carried
the same value as the word "sterling" stamped on silver.6
Grumman's relationship with the Navy continued to grow during the postwar era. 7
During the 1950s, the Bethpage company fared much better than some of its competitors
because of the large proportion of Navy aircraft contracts it won. Despite a few years of
fairly severe downsizing, the company began to rebuild its employee base; nevertheless, by
October 1957, during the dawn of the Space Age, Grumman had still only reclaimed a
little more than half of its total World War II workforce. 8 If the company wanted to
continue to grow, it needed to diversify and, thanks to the Soviet Union, there was a new
urgency to find ways to break on through to the ether of space.
Grumman did not enter the Space Age as quickly or as excitedly as many of its
competitors; the Bethpage firm was slow to participate in the new field of space
5
An extensive history of Grumman‘s World War II naval aircraft can be found in Thruelsen, The
Grumman Story, 159-215.
6
Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 6. Admiral John S. McCain, the grandfather of
Senator John S. McCain, III, said: ―Grumman is to the Navy what sterling is to silver.‖
7
From 1945-1959, Navy contracts accounted for over 90% of Grumman's total annual sales.
Grumman‘s F9F fighter jet, the ―Panther‖ (and its cousins the ―Cougar‖ and the ―Tiger‖) became
mainstays of the seafaring service during the period. At that time, Grumman fighters represented 61% of
the Navy‘s air fleet. See Kucera, ―Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation,‖ 127-129.
8
"Employee-Population, As of 1st of Month," "Personnel," Section A-8, NGHC.
21
exploration. Beginning in the late 1940s and continuing into the early 1950s—several
years before Sputnik—many of the country's major aircraft companies were eagerly
remaking their firms into aerospace corporations. Historian Joan Lisa Bromberg has
described how contractors "struggled for hegemony over the new field" and "fought hard
to claim space as their turf."9 North American Aviation, for example, had created four
very distinct divisions that focused on every major space-oriented technology from rocket
engineering to nuclear power by 1955. The Glenn L. Martin company had done much the
same thing by the mid-1950s concentrating on launch vehicles and securing the contracts
for the Viking rocket for Project Vanguard (the U.S.‘s intended first artificial satellite),
and the Air Force's Titan ICBM (the era‘s main nuclear warhead rocket).10
Grumman, on the other hand, came to the space field very late and somewhat
reluctantly because of a conservative management philosophy.11 Unlike many contractors,
Grumman was essentially an aircraft company that did space, not a full-fledged aerospace
firm. The difference stemmed from the fact that many of Grumman's competitors had
several experienced and well-funded space-oriented divisions already in place by the time
President Kennedy called for the establishment of the Apollo Program, unlike Grumman,
which only created a Space Steering Group from a small handful of engineers in 1958,
9
Joan Lisa Bromberg, NASA and the Space Industry (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University
Press, 1999), 14 and 30. The first quote is from page 14, the second is from page 30.
10
11
Bromberg, NASA and the Space Industry, 23.
As Stephen Kerekes, a Grumman Public Relations Assistant, noted about the firm‘s slow entry
into the field of space exploration: ―Getting Jesus Christ replaced in the Catholic Church would have been
easier than getting the Board [of Directors] to let the firm do anything besides building Navy airplanes.
The selling job that had to be done inside the company was probably harder than getting the contracts
from NASA.‖ For the quote, see Kucera, ―Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation,‖ 259.
22
almost nine months to the day after the launch of the first Sputnik. 12 Grumman's upper
management, which had been with the company since its early years, would have been
quite content to continue to focus the company's energies on supplying the Navy with
aircraft. Compared to the new and young pro-space managers who were starting to take
control at North American Aviation and some of the other major aerospace firms,
Grumman's company elders were very conservative when it came to bidding on space
projects.13 Nevertheless, since most of the industry was trying to get into space design and
production, the company‘s managers decided to allow a small group of engineers to begin
exploring the possibilities of entering the field.
Grumman formed its Space Steering Group (SSG) on July 3, 1958.14 The SSG, led
by Al Munier, a former civil engineer who had helped design the 1939 World's Fair's
Trylon and Perisphere, began working immediately on proposals for aircraft that would
venture beyond the earth's atmosphere. One of the first bids the small cadre put together
was for the Project Mercury space capsule. Although the group's proposal was a definite
front-runner in the competition, the Navy stepped in at the last minute and asked NASA to
award the contract to another company; the seafaring service was concerned that the
delivery of its planes might be delayed if Grumman took on another major contract.15
12
Sputnik 1 launched on October 4, 1957. Grumman‘s space efforts began on July 3, 1958.
13
For more on this issue, see ―Chapter 2: Losing Our Nerve‖ in Thomas J. Kelly, Moon Lander:
How We Developed the Apollo Lunar Module (Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2001), 17-22;
and Bromberg, NASA and the Space Industry, 22-25.
14
"Development of Grumman Space Effort Prior to 1960," "LM Design," Vertical Files, Cradle of
Aviation Museum, East Garden City, NY, (hereinafter cited as CAM).
15
Kelly, Moon Lander, 11; and Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 80-81.
23
Discouraged, but still determined, the SSG pressed on, and in October 1960 Grumman
won the right to build the Orbiting Astronomical Observatories—a series of historic Earthorbiting space telescopes. Then, in November 1962, it captured one of the most coveted
space contracts of the era, the Apollo Lunar Module (LM).16
Suddenly faced with the daunting engineering tasks associated with developing
spacecraft, Grumman went through a massive build-up within a relatively short period of
time. In less than three years, the firm‘s employment rolls exceeded its World War II
peak, and by April 1968, the company reached its all-time employment record of
approximately 37,000 workers.17 Of those employees, roughly a third would work on the
company's space projects.18 Certain sectors of the workforce would concentrate on space
more than others; by mid-1966, for example, almost half of Grumman's engineers and
scientists were working on the LMs and OAOs.19 In all, the company‘s Apollo-era
workforce was approximately 95% white and 5% minority.20 Women represented about
16
"Grumman and Its Early Space Program Successes: A Historical Perspective as Seen by
Donald A. Imgram," sent via e-mail to David H. Onkst, 5 May 1999, 8, in the author‘s possession; and
Thruelsen, The Grumman Story, 326.
17
"Employee-Population, As of 1st of Month," "Personnel," Section A-8, NGHC.
18
For the total number of Grumman, Bethpage employees, who worked on the LMs and OAOs, see
and compare, Brian M. Tuohy to Glen Bayless, 29 August 1966, "Personnel," Section A-8, NGHC; "Grumman,
Program Management Memo, 8/24/66," "Personnel," Section A-8, NGHC; Stephen Kerekes to Glenn Nixon, 27
May 1966, "LM-Personnel," Section A-71, NGHC; and 24 January 1968, Newsday, "LM-Letters of
Commendation," Section A-71, NGHC.
19
20
Brian M. Tuohy to Glen Bayless, 29 August 1966, "Personnel," Section A-8, NGHC.
Department of Public Affairs, Grumman Aerospace Corporation, "The Grumman Corporation and
Its Subsidiaries: Economic Contributions to Long Island and Selected Personnel Characteristics," May 1970, 1415, Section A-10, NGHC.
24
10% of the total employee population.21 From a strictly corporate standpoint, Grumman
would become NASA's second largest contractor in 1966, as the Apollo Program reached
its height of production.22 Over half of the company‘s business came from space contracts
at this time.23
Generally speaking, Grumman engineers and production workers were very
different from one another. Most of the space engineers had grown up in white-collar
families (with well-established roots in the U.S.) and had obtained at least two years of a
college-level education at a university or technical institute. They also tended to be fairly
young, especially compared to their counterparts on the aircraft side of the company.
During the early 1960s, the space engineers were generally very restless and aggressive
mavericks who liked the challenge of trying to figure out how to make a craft maneuver in
the vacuum of space; many of them had given up the chance for quick career advancement
by asking for an assignment in the space division instead of remaining in the tried-and-true,
and much better-established, aeronautical division.24 Grumman production workers, on the
other hand, tended to be older aeronautical craftsmen who had worked in the aircraft
industry for many years. Several of them were first- or second-generation Americans of
21
"Tabulation of Employees, December 1966," "Women," Section A-8, NGHC.
22
Jane Van Nimmen and Leonard C. Bruno with Robert L. Rosholt, NASA Historical Data Book,
Volume I: NASA Resources 1958-1968, (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4012, 1988), 218.
23
Brian M. Tuohy to Glen Bayless, 29 August 1966, "Personnel," Section A-8, NGHC; and H. E.
Bockrath to Len Victor, 29 November 1966, "Personnel," Section A-8, NGHC.
24
"Grumman and Its Early Space Program Successes: A Historical Perspective as Seen by Donald
A. Imgram," sent via e-mail to David H. Onkst, 5 May 1999, 7-8; Tom Kelly to David Onkst, 27 August
1998, hard copy of e-mail message; and George L. Daelemans, Jr., Survey/Questionnaire, 31 January
2000. All in the author‘s possession.
25
European descent, whose families had come from Germany, Italy, or Eastern Europe.
And unlike the engineers, most had grown up in blue-collar families.25 As a whole, four
out of five Grummanites were married and almost 60% of the male employees had served
in the military.26
Most Grummanites lived in close proximity to Bethpage. Approximately 80% of
the company‘s employees resided on Long Island during the Apollo era. The remainder
either commuted from one of New York City's five boroughs, New Jersey, or upstate New
York.27 The most concentrated clusters of Grummanites lived in the Long Island
townships of Oyster Bay and Hempstead in Nassau County, west of Grumman.28
Levittown, the nation‘s first truly mass-produced suburb, was a particularly popular
residential choice for many of the workers; it was located only a few miles to the
southwest of the company‘s main facilities. Still, most Grummanites lived someplace east
25
"Grumman and Its Early Space Program Successes: A Historical Perspective as Seen by Donald
A. Imgram," sent via e-mail to David H. Onkst, 5 May 1999, 4; and Tom Kelly to David Onkst, 27
August 1998, hard copy of e-mail message. Both in the author's possession. Thruelsen, The Grumman
Story, 21; and Ann Markusen, Peter Hall, Scott Campbell, and Sabina Deitrick, The Rise of the Gunbelt:
The Military Remapping of Industrial America (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), 123. All the
Grummanites who participated in the survey/questionnaire for this study included extensive information
about their family histories in their surveys. For more details, see and compare all of the Grummanite
survey/questionnaires in the author‘s possession. For more about Grummanites of Italian descent, see
Stephen Raymond Patnode, ―Labor‘s Love Lost: The Influence of Gender, Race, and Class on the
Workplace in Postwar America‖ (Ph.D. diss., Stony Brook University, 2008), 18-19 and 321-324.
26
Department of Public Affairs, Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation, "Economic
Contributions to Long Island and Selected Characteristics of Corporate Manpower, 1968 Revision," April
1969, Table 1, p. 10, Section A-10, NGHC.
27
See and compare ibid., 11 and Department of Public Affairs, Grumman Aerospace
Corporation, ―The Grumman Corporation and Its Subsidiaries: Economic Contributions to Long Island
and Selected Personnel Characteristics," May 1970, Section A-10, NGHC.
28
Department of Public Affairs, Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation, ―Economic
Contributions to Long Island and Selected Characteristics of Corporate Manpower, 1968 Revision," April
1969, p. 7, Table 2, p. 11, Section A-10, NGHC.
26
of the Bethpage plants, especially in Suffolk County.29 Many of the engineers resided in
the Suffolk County townships of Huntington and Islip and along the North Shore on
Oyster Bay.30 Production workers tended to live more on the South Shore and in
Hempstead Township.31
By the late 1960s, most Grummanites had benefitted from the era's unprecedented
economic growth and had become members of the middle class. The median salary at the
company was between $10,000 and $15,000, compared to the 1969 New York state
median family range of $10,500 a year.32 During the Apollo era, many Grummanites
purchased homes, new cars, and a wide variety of household goods and appliances, things
that had been out of reach for many workers of previous generations. The new jobs
generated by the Space Race coincided quite nicely with the explosion of mass consumer
goods in the 1960s.
29
See and compare, Department of Public Affairs, Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation,
"Economic Contributions to Long Island and Selected Characteristics of Corporate Manpower, 1968
Revision," April 1969, p. 7, Table 2, p. 11, Section A-10, NGHC; and Department of Public Affairs,
Grumman Aerospace Corporation, "The Grumman Corporation and Its Subsidiaries: Economic
Contributions to Long Island and Selected Personnel Characteristics," May 1970, Section A-10, NGHC.
30
See and compare, Department of Public Affairs, Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation,
"Economic Contributions to Long Island and Selected Characteristics of Corporate Manpower, 1968
Revision," April 1969, p. 7, Table 2, p. 11, Section A-10, NGHC; and "Grumman and Its Early Space
Program Successes: A Historical Perspective as Seen by Donald A. Imgram," sent via e-mail to David H.
Onkst, 5 May 1999, 4.
31
Donald A. Imgram," sent via e-mail to David H. Onkst, 5 May 1999, 4.
32
See and compare Department of Public Affairs, Grumman Aerospace Corporation, "The
Grumman Corporation and Its Subsidiaries: Economic Contributions to Long Island and Selected
Personnel Characteristics," May 1970, Table 7, p. 32,Section A-10, NGHC; and William Lerner,
Historical Statistics of the United States, Colonial Times to 1970, Part 1 (Washington, DC, 1975, Series G
205-256), 297.
27
Grumman must have seemed very enticing to the job-shopping aerospace engineers
who browsed the company‘s advertisements in the professional and trade journals during
the early years of the Space Age. The Bethpage firm promised incoming engineers a very
friendly, flexible, and relaxed work environment, and the opportunity to design some of
the most "technically challenging" space projects of the day.33 Engineers could expect to
work together in a team-oriented atmosphere, in which management interacted with them
in a very professional, but collegial manner.34 They might even solve some engineering
problems together while carpooling to work or eating dinner at a local restaurant.35 New
hires would also be working in some of the most advanced space engineering and testing
facilities in the world.36 One of the company‘s most notable ads—simply titled ‗The
People of Grumman‖—perfectly exemplified the distinct image the firm wanted to convey;
it was also a portrait of the way the company believed it acted. As the ad noted,
The success or failure of a company lies precisely in
its people and their level of performance. There are no hard
departmental lines at Grumman. The approach to work is
33
"Lunar Landing and Rendezvous Program Offers Engineers and Scientists the Greatest
Technical Challenge of Our Times," Astronautics & Aerospace Engineering (March 1963): 83; and
Astronautics & Aerospace Engineering (September 1963). For an example of the more on the relaxed
work environment, see "Careers at Grumman," 1967, 48, untitled file, Section A-40, NGHC.
34
―Total Involvement at Grumman: The Insiders,‖ Grumman Advertisement, Aviation Week &
Space Technology, 24 August 1964, 107; and ―Total Involvement at Grumman: Team Concept,‖
Grumman Advertisement, Aviation Week & Space Technology, 31 August 1964, 84.
35
―…The Car Pool,‖ Grumman Advertisement, Aviation Week & Space Technology, 12 June
1961, 122; and ―…Inspiration Break,‖ Grumman Advertisement, Aviation Week & Space Technology, 19
June 1961, 122.
36
―Grumman Panorama: Aerospace Test,‖ Grumman Advertisement, Astronautics & Aerospace
Engineering (July 1963): 117; ―The Scene at Grumman: Lunar Landing Simulation,‖ Grumman
Advertisement, Aviation Week & Space Technology, 23 March 1964, 89; ―One of these LMs will Blast
Off,‖ copy of trade journal advertisement, undated, ―LM Design,‖ Vertical Files, CAM; and ―Grumman
‘63,‖ Product Advertising Book, 1963, ―Product Booklets,‖ untitled box, Sect A-40, NGHC.
28
flexible, the environment informal. Here the engineer, whose
area of responsibility is broad, is free to move in the
direction his talents take him. . . . If, in describing the
engineering climate at Grumman, one were restricted to
single descriptive words . . .‖Stability‖ . . .‖Growth‖ would
come naturally to mind. . . . Grumman has a record of job
stability that is unique; the annual turnover rate is less than
one-quarter that of the rest of the industry. 37
Though intellectually adventurous, these engineers were looked for employment security,
and they were attracted to this extremely stable company with an excellent future. 38 The
LMs and OAOs were only going to be the first steps towards exploring the heavens.
Several of Grumman's ads suggested that the firm‘s engineers would be designing a space
station and a spacecraft for a mission to Mars, among other space projects. 39
On the more personal side, newly hired Grummanites could expect to enjoy a
diverse and extremely pleasurable middle-class lifestyle on Long Island. One of
Grumman's recruitment brochures promised: "Working and living on the Island, you can
choose your way of life—urban, suburban, or country gentleman, depending on where you
locate. The densely populated urban areas are concentrated close to New York City, but
37
―The People of Grumman,‖ Grumman Advertisement, Astronautics & Aeronautics
Engineering (October 1963): 59.
38
Even as late as 1967, a time when most companies were getting ready to downsize their Apollo
workforce, Grumman was suggesting that it would continue to "retain its engineers and other professional
personnel." See, "Careers at Grumman," 1967, 10, untitled file, Section A-40, NGHC. A similar example
can be found in a special college edition of Engineering Opportunities in 1966. Grumman published an
exciting article in the journal about some of the challenges that the LM engineers were facing. The
article's message was clear, ―join us and you‘ll also be doing these kinds of exciting things.‖ See
Grumman, "Engineering Opportunities, Special College Ed., 1966," "Grumman Aerospace," Section, A10, NGHC. For a couple of clear examples of Grumman‘s stability, see ―The People of Grumman,‖
Grumman Advertisement, Astronautics & Aeronautics Engineering, (October 1963): 59; and ―Stability at
Grumman,‖ Grumman Advertisement, Aviation Week & Space Technology, 15 March 1965, 297, ―LM
Production,‖ Vertical Files, CAM.
39
Astronautics & Aerospace Engineering (September 1963); and Aviation Week & Space
Technology, 15 March 1965, 297.
29
give way to attractive suburban communities as you move eastward."40 The brochure also
contained pictures of New York City‘s skyline, the Island's wonderful beaches, a number
of the area's recreational and sporting opportunities, great homes and schools, and even
noted that the company's water skiing club was coached by Bruce Parker, the world water
ski champion.41
The production workers and engineers who joined Grumman entered a company
with a unique and well-established culture. From the firm‘s very beginning, Grumman
managers fostered a sense of caring and concern for their workers. They deeply believed
that the company had a "magnitude of responsibility" to its employees, and to Long Island,
because of the firm‘s sheer size and the impact of its operations.42 As one manager put it,
Grumman's leadership ―developed a close personal attachment and sense of responsibility
toward every single person that worked for Grumman."43 Managers often agonized about
the possible ramifications of laying off workers during slowdowns; in fact, they often went
out of their way to try to keep employees on-the-job, even if that meant transferring them
to an entirely different, unrelated part of the company. In essence, the company bragged
that it "specialize[d] in creating a sort of environment which… could be described as the
40
"Grumman: Engineering for Production," circa 1956-57, "Employee Handbooks," Section A-10,
41
Ibid.
NGHC.
42
See attached handwritten note, "Grumman and the Long Island Economy," by F.J. Edwards,
Jr., March 16, 1964, "Long Island," Section A-10, NGHC.
43
H. E. Bockrath to Bernie Bookbinder, Newsday, 7 March 1966, 4-5, "Articles, Written Here,
and Sent out for Publication," Section A-12, NGHC.
30
advanced stages of paternalism."44
Leon ―Jake‖ Swirbul, Grumman‘s President and one of the company‘s founders,
was the person most responsible for developing the firm‘s nurturing culture. Swirbul, a
former World War I-era Marine, was one of the company‘s original investors; he had put
up $8,125 to help start the firm.45 From Grumman‘s very early days, Swirbul had done his
best to inculcate a sense of teamwork, camaraderie, and equality among his workers and
engineers. People viewed Swirbul as a ―considerate man,‖ recognized that he ―had a
genius for making friends,‖ and believed he ―would have made the greatest politician in
the world.‖46 Described as a man who possessed an ―Ernest Borgnine‖ personality,
Swirbul would roam the shop floor, with his suit coat off and shirt sleeves rolled up,
encouraging and motivating people.47 He had a real hands-on approach and would
literally pat workers on the back and tell them what a good job they were doing. During
the 1950s, he insisted that all of his newly hired engineers work a total of two months on
44
Ibid.
45
Thruelsen, The Grumman Story, 32; and Research and Engineering Department of the UAWCIO, ―Grumman Aircraft,‖ 16 August 1948, 4, UAW Research Department Collection, Box 113, Folder
21, Archive of Labor and Union Affairs, Wayne State University, Detroit, MI, (hereinafter cited as
ALUA).
46
For the quote ―considerate man‖ see George DeWan, ―The Wings of War,‖ Newsday.com,
accessed 2 July 2006, http://www.Newsday.com/community/guide/lihistory/ny-historyhs736a,0,3972922,printstory?coll=ny-lihistory-navigation. For all other quotes see Drew Fetherston,
―Pioneers on the Runway: Raising Grumman,‖ a reprint from Newsday, Grumman Park, accessed 4 July
2006, http://grummanpark.org/runway1.htm.
47
Michael F. Hlinko, Survey/Questionnaire, 21 December 1999, in the author‘s possession; and
Drew Fetherston, ―Pioneers on the Runway: Raising Grumman,‖ a reprint from Newsday, Grumman
Park, accessed 4 July 2006, http://grummanpark.org/runway1.htm.
31
the shop floor.48 As one engineer recalled, he and his white-collar colleagues could ―gettheir-hands-dirty.‖49 This introduction to the manufacturing process made it very easy for
employees of all levels to interact amicably and develop a sense of respect for one another.
Many friendships developed because of these types of interactions, as well as a sense that
everyone stood on equal ground. For most, Grumman was a relaxed and "classless work
environment."50 It was also a ―friendly, uninhibited atmosphere where rigid protocol ha[d]
no place.‖ 51 Overall, Swirbul was a much-beloved figure and a "genius at labor
relations."52
Some of Swirbul‘s greatest employee care innovations at Grumman came during
World War II. Aiming to cutting down on worker absenteeism, he developed several
services and courtesies to help employees with their errands, as well as their personal
problems.53 His ―Green Truck‖ would snake through the employees‘ parking lot and take
care of flat tires and other automobile repairs. Sometimes the Green Truck‘s drivers would
also run errands for employees, making sure a worker had turned off the gas at home, for
48
Michael F. Hlinko, Survey/Questionnaire, 21 December 1999, in the author‘s possession.
Stephen Patnode also notes that engineers sometimes worked on the shop floor. See Patnode, ―Labor‘s
Love Lost,‖ 260.
49
William F. Kiesel, IV, Survey/Questionnaire, undated (circa November 1999-April 2000), in
the author‘s possession.
50
Michael Hlinko, Survey/Questionnaire, 21 December 1999, in the author‘s possession.
51
"Careers at Grumman," 1967, 48, untitled file, Section A-40, NGHC. Historian Stephen
Patnode also notes Grumman‘s ―largely informal‖ management approach. See Patnode, ―Labor‘s Love
Lost,‖ 37. For an additional instance related to this issue, also see page 301.
52
53
Bertram H. Dawkins, Jr. Survey/Questionnaire, 12 July 2000, in the author‘s possession.
Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 24; and George DeWan, ―The Wings of War,‖
Newsday.com, accessed 2 July 2006, http://www.Newsday.com/community/guide/lihistory/ny-historyhs736a,0,3972922,printstory?coll=ny-lihistory-navigation.
32
example, or closing all the windows in case of a rainstorm. They might even fix a leaky
faucet for someone.54 Swirbul also set up a company nursery school and created a host of
clubs and sports teams.55 During the war, lunchtime dances sprang up, and company
managers (including top management) played alongside the rank-and-file on employee
softball teams.56 Swirbul received a lot of criticism from managers at other aircraft
companies because of the way he treated his workers. They insisted that ―such
mollycoddling didn‘t pay off.‖57 He believed it did, however, and his company‘s workforce
retention rate proved it. During World War II, Grumman experienced only half of the
turnover of other aircraft manufacturers. 58
Swirbul‘s workers obtained a number of other compensations and perks from
Grumman over the years. First and foremost, every Grummanite received free medical
care. If an employee faced a more serious illness than was covered by the company's
major medical policy, he or she could go to famous Strang Cancer Prevention Center in
New York City or the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota and receive free care, paid for
54
Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 24; George DeWan, ―The Wings of War,‖
Newsday.com, accessed 2 July 2006, http://www.Newsday.com/community/guide/lihistory/ny-historyhs736a,0,3972922,printstory?coll=ny-lihistory-navigation; and Drew Fetherston, ―Pioneers on the
Runway: Raising Grumman,‖ a reprint from Newsday, Grumman Park, accessed 4 July 2006,
http://grummanpark.org/runway1.htm.
55
George DeWan, ―The Wings of War,‖ Newsday.com, accessed 2 July 2006,
http://www.Newsday.com/community/guide/lihistory/ny-history-hs736a,0,3972922,printstory?coll=nylihistory-navigation; and Drew Fetherston, ―Pioneers on the Runway: Raising Grumman,‖ a reprint from
Newsday, Grumman Park, accessed 4 July 2006, http://grummanpark.org/runway1.htm.
56
Ibid.
57
Drew Fetherston, ―Pioneers on the Runway: Raising Grumman,‖ a reprint from Newsday,
Grumman Park, accessed 4 July 2006, http://grummanpark.org/runway1.htm.
58
Ibid.
33
by Grumman. Employees could also take advantage of the company‘s in-house job
training programs by simply requesting enrollment. For those seeking more advanced
studies, the firm offered an evening college scholarship program that paid an employee's
tuition as long as he or she kept making good academic progress. Grummanites also liked
the fact that the company took employee suggestions seriously. Several suggestion
programs flourished inside the Bethpage plants during the 1960s. The most popular was
called Project Sterling. Employees submitted more than 15,000 suggestions a year to the
project. The best suggestion of the year received a $1,000 prize, while other finalists
received trips to New York and Cape Canaveral. Employees could also look forward to
annual vacation tours of Europe and Bermuda, a yearly holiday turkey (most often handed
out directly by the company president), and an extravagant annual summer picnic. And
perhaps, most notably, Swirbul had always matched neighboring unionized companies‘
pay increases and thereby kept Grummanites‘ salaries equal with other Long Island
aerospace workers‘ wages, a move that some believe keep Grummanites quite happy and
anti-union.59 In sum, Swirbul and the company‘s other founding fathers seemed to strive
to offer employees virtually every benefit, perk, incentive, and activity a worker could
want and expect; Grumman‘s culture of corporate caring was built on a solid foundation
as far as the employees were concerned.60
59
For more on this issue, see and compare Eugene J. Coll, Survey/Questionnaire, 27 January
2000; Daniel J. Carroll, Survey/Questionnaire, 17 November 1999; and James Panos,
Survey/Questionnaire, 24 April 2000, all in the author‘s possession; and Patnode, ―Labor‘s Love Lost,‖
226 and 243-244.
60
An excellent overview of such Grumman employee offerings is in H. E. Bockrath to Bernie
Bookbinder, Newsday, 7 March 1966, 5-8, "Articles, Written Here, and Sent out for Publication," Section
34
Two very unique Swirbul innovations that helped him strengthen his caring image
among workers included his ―Open Door‖ initiative and his bonus system. Swirbul‘s
―Open Door‖ policy—which the rest of the company‘s management also supposedly
practiced—helped endear him to the workers. He knew that employees found it extremely
difficult to build up the courage to knock on the boss‘s door. To remedy the situation, he
always left his door wide open with his desk facing outward so that if he saw an employee
pacing around, he could ask them if they wanted to see him; no secretary acted as an
intermediary or guard.61 Swirbul‘s bonus system also became popular among employees.
The program based worker bonuses on the total production output of a plant, not on an
employee‘s individual performance.62 According to one Newsday reporter, employees
received about half of any savings when output increased, which, on average, worked out
to about 30% of an employee‘s annual salary.63 By the end of World War II, the program
had supposedly paid out approximately $38 million. 64
One aircraft worker‘s medical emergency reveals a great deal about Swirbul‘s
character, as well as about the difference between the culture of Grumman and that of
A-12, NGHC. For a thorough review of Swirbul‘s culture of paternalism, see Skurla and Gregory, Inside
the Iron Works, 11-20.
61
62
George DeWan, ―The Wings of War,‖ Newsday.com, accessed 2 July 2006,
http://www.Newsday.com/community/guide/lihistory/ny-history-hs736a,0,3972922,printstory?coll=nylihistory-navigation.
63
64
Ibid.
35
other companies. During this period, Justin Ostro, Republic Aviation‘s President of the
International Association of Machinists, Lodge 1987 approached management about the
possibility of using the company‘s ambulance/aircraft to fly an employee‘s sick child to a
distant hospital for a procedure to repair ―a hole in its heart.‖ Republic was Grumman‘s
nearest competitor, and a unionized company, while Grumman was not. Without much
consideration, Republic‘s front office denied the request, because it did not want to set a
precedent. Trying to find some way to help the child, Ostro turned to Swirbul. The two
men had gotten to know one another because of their work together with several local
charities, as well as their shared interest in attending local boxing matches. 65 When Ostro
asked Swirbul whether he could help the employee‘s child, the Grumman president got
back to him within a few hours and simply said: ―OK, just tell us where and when you
want the aircraft.‖66
Overall, Grummanites viewed the company‘s culture of paternalism very
positively. Scholars from a variety of disciplines have sometimes used the term
disparagingly, equating it with an unequal power structure in which workers or other
―children‖ suffer from some type of ―false consciousness.‖ But those Grummanites living
under Swirbul‘s regime felt differently. They did not see subterfuge on the part of
management; they deeply believed that the company‘s managers were honestly concerned
with their welfare. The reciprocal nature of Grumman‘s corporate culture suggests that
there was indeed something unique about the relationship between workers and
65
―Notes from Phone Interview with Justin Ostro,‖ 28 November 2006, in the author‘s
possession.
66
Ibid.
36
management. As historian Stephen Patnode—another scholar who recently investigated
certain aspects of Grumman—has noted, ―the employees at Grumman were not displeased
with this paternalism—indeed, they clearly viewed it as a positive thing…. [they] did not
use the word ―paternalistic‖ in a pejorative sense.‖67 To this day, Grummanites speak
fondly of the culture of concern that Swirbul and the company‘s founding fathers
cultivated from the early days of the company. It was a win-win situation as far as
Grummanites were concerned, and a very unique bond developed with no seeming
downside. As George Skurla, the company‘s man in charge of the LM Program at Cape
Canaveral (and the F-14 fighter later on), remembered, ―Grumman was a cradle to grave
culture.‖68
The LMs and the OAOs—Grumman‘s
Major Space Projects of the 1960s
Grumman‘s most prestigious and significant space projects were the Apollo Lunar
Modules (LM) and the Orbiting Astronomical Observatories (OAO). The Bethpage
company landed the OAO contract in October 1960, and then the Lunar Module
agreement just a little over two years later in November 1962. 69 The LMs and OAOs were
67
Patnode, ―Labor‘s Love Lost,‖ 37-38. As Patnode states, in post-war America, ―this new
benevolent paternalism was consensual—it involved an accepting decision from employees to be part of a
harmonious community within the workplace.‖ For this quote, see page 34. For additional instances of
Grummanites viewing paternalism positively, also see pages 16 and 257. Overall, Patnode believes that
Grummanites embraced paternalism and thereby rejected organized labor because they thought that
unions would emasculate them and undermine their autonomy. For more on this issue, see pages 12, 16
and 336.
68
Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 19.
69
Thruelsen, The Grumman Story, 326 and 333; and ―NASA/Grumman OAO Program History,‖
no date, ―OAO,‖ Vertical Files, CAM. Grumman won the LM contract on November 7, 1962, see Kelly,
Moon Lander, 35.
37
key spacecraft that allowed humans to land on the Moon, thus enabling scientists to begin
to chart and understand previously unknown aspects of the universe. These were vehicles that
respectively represented the two extremes of space exploration during the 1960s: the push to
win the politically driven Cold War race to the Moon, and the scientific endeavor to map and
fathom the physical universe. For Grummanites, the development, construction, and
deployment of the LMs and OAOs were far-reaching achievements, true triumphs that they
continue to remember proudly to this day. Overall, the LM and OAO missions remain key
moments in the history of space exploration.
Grumman‘s spacecraft were highly specialized, handcrafted vehicles. They were quite
different from the mass-produced naval aircraft that Grumman had cranked out during World
War II. Each OAO and LM was slightly different due to individual mission specifications, and
as such, each had to be modified and assembled under careful scrutiny. For Grummanites, the
production of spacecraft required entirely new testing procedures and standards that were
extremely rigorous. And Grummanites had to learn to work in new types of facilities, like
the ―Clean Room," where they had to don white lab coats, hats, and booties, and literally
check off the tools and materials they took in with them in an effort to avoid leaving
behind even the slightest debris which might cause havoc once the spaceship was in zero
gravity. In short, designing and building spacecraft differed vastly from any other type of
work they had done up to that point. 70
The Orbiting Astronomic Observatories were the most advanced satellites of the
70
Charles R. Pellegrino and Joshua Stoff, Chapter 18 ―QC‖ in Chariots for Apollo: The Making
of the Lunar Module (New York: Atheneum, 1985), 65-71.
38
1960s.71 They were the forerunners of the Hubble Space Telescope that would rightfully garner
so much public attention in the 1990s and the first decade of the twenty-first century.
Grumman would construct four OAOs over the course of twelve years, from the time it won
the contract in 1960 until the launch of the fourth OAO (also known as Copernicus) in August
1972. While some would go on to highly successful missions, others were outright failures.
Physically, the OAOs looked like fairly small cylinders, roughly three by two meters in size,
containing various telescopes and scientific experiments. Solar panels would deploy on the
sides of the vehicles in order to power each OAO‘s battery system once it had established orbit.
The first OAO launched in April 1966, but failed when its battery died after only twenty-two
orbits and the mission was scrubbed.72 OAO-2 fared much better when it went up in December
1968. It contained several ultraviolet (UV) telescopes that would function for years and even
detect a supernova in the early 1970s.73 But then third observatory, OAO-B, failed to even
reach orbit and plummeted into the Atlantic Ocean when it launched on the last day of
November 1970.74 Fortunately, Copernicus, the final OAO, was a highly successful instrument.
Its UV telescope and x-ray experimental packages would make some important discoveries
71
Thruelsen, The Grumman Story, 326 and 333; and ―NASA/Grumman OAO Program History,‖
no date, ―OAO,‖ Vertical Files, CAM.
72
―Orbiting Astronomical Observatory Programs,‖ no date, ―OAO,‖ Vertical Files, CAM; and
―Orbital Telescopes,‖ Hartmut Frommert, accessed 14 June 2011, http://spider.seds.org/oaos/oaos.html.
73
Public Affairs Office, Goddard Space Flight Center, Orbiting Astronomical Observatory-II
(OAO) Selected Press Clippings, December 1968-January 1969, no folder (loose in box), ―Box 30 OAO,
Brochures, News, etc.,‖ Sect A-95, NGHC; and Joseph G. Gavin, Jr., ―The Orbiting Astronomical
Observatory,‖ TRW Space Log, no date, ―Articles,‖ ―Box 30 OAO, Brochures, News, etc.,‖ Sect A-95,
NGHC.
74
―Orbiting Astronomical Observatory Programs,‖ no date, ―OAO,‖ Vertical Files, CAM; and
―Orbital Telescopes,‖ Hartmut Frommert, accessed 14 June 2011, http://spider.seds.org/oaos/oaos.html.
39
about pulsars and the first suspected black hole.75 Dr. James Kupperian, NASA‘s main scientist
who worked on the OAOs, would state in 1981 that he believed ―the achievements of [the]
OAO will probably prove more lasting than those of Apollo in the areas of science and
technology.‖76 Overall, the OAOs ranged between highly successful vehicles that made vital
contributions to science, and utter failures.77
The Lunar Module (LM), or Lunar Excursion Module (LEM) as it was known
during it early years of development, was humankind's first true spacecraft; it was the first
vehicle to operate totally outside of the Earth‘s atmosphere. The LM was a two-stage
spacecraft designed to shuttle a pair of astronauts from the Apollo Command/Service
Module (CSM), which would orbit the Moon, to the lunar surface, and then back into
orbit again to rejoin the CSM. Many contemporaries called the LM the "bug" because of
its four insect-like landing legs. Its ―legs‖ attached to the gold Mylar-covered, cubeshaped, descent stage that held the cone-shaped engine that allowed the astronauts to
descend to the lunar surface. On top of the descent unit rested the ascent stage, which
contained the ship's control room and the engine that allowed the astronauts to blast off
75
―NASA‘s HEASARC: Observatories—The Copernicus Satellite (OAO-3),‖ NASA Goddard
Space Flight Center, accessed 14 June 2011,
http://heasarc.gsfc.nasa.gov/docs/copernicus/copernicus.html; ―Astronomical Observatory Ends Scientific
Investigations,‖ NASA Press Release 81-10, 15 January 1981, ―News Releases Press Kit Folder,‖ ―Box 30
OAO, Brochures, News, etc.,‖ Sect A-95, NGHC; and Public Affairs, Space, Grumman Aerospace
Corporation, ―Press Coverage of the Orbiting Astronomical Observatory,‖ 31 July 1972 - 15 September
1972, no folder (loose in box), ―Box 30 OAO, Brochures, News, etc.,‖ Sect A-95, NGHC.
76
―OAO Retires After Star-Studded Career,‖ Grumman Plane News, 27 February 1981, 4-5,
―OAO,‖ Vertical Files, CAM.
77
For general information about all of the OAOs see Hartmut Frommert‘s excellent website
about ―Orbital Telescopes‖ that he developed and maintains for the Students for the Exploration and
Development of Space (SEDS), accessed 14 June 2011, http://spider.seds.org/oaos/oaos.html.
40
once a Moon mission was completed. By 1966 approximately 7,500 Grummanites were
working on the LM. From the beginning of the program until the fall of 1968, the LM was
constantly behind schedule and over budget. Every subsystem of the vehicle seemed to
have major developmental problems.78 Not until the successful flight of Apollo 9 in March
1969 did Grumman match the proper cost and schedule projections. 79
Two of Grumman‘s Lunar Modules stand out more than others due to their
historical significance. LM-5, the Eagle, is perhaps the most famous because of the role it
played in the Apollo 11 mission. On July 20, 1969, the Eagle carried astronauts Neil
Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin to the lunar surface—the first men to walk on the Moon. Nine
months later, LM-7, the Aquarius, also gained fame by saving the lives of Apollo 13‘s
three crew members after an explosion in their service module. With the help of Grumman
engineers, the crew converted Aquarius, a vehicle only designed to sustain two men for
forty-eight hours, into a ―lifeboat‘ that helped all three men safely return to the Earth.
Grummanites took great pride in their spacecraft, particularly the LMs. For many,
designing and building the Lunar Modules were the highlights of their careers—true
triumphs. During the Apollo 11 mission, they were ―elated‖ and extremely ―proud to
be…Grummanite[s].‖80 George Daelemans remembered that he felt ―ten feet tall‖ at the
78
Every LM subsystem seemed to have major developmental problems, but they are too
numerous to mention here. By 1966, the most pressing problems on the LM were with the ascent engine
and the vehicle‘s weight. For more details see and compare, Kelly, Moon Lander, 126-144; and
―Statement by Dr. George E. Mueller, Associate Administrator for Manned Space Flight before the Senate
Committee on Aeronautical and Space Sciences,‖ 12 June 1967, 9-10, ―Hjornevik Report 6-20 to 7-1
1966—Findings & Recommendations of,‖ ―Hjornevik Report,‖ Sect. A-67, NGHC.
79
80
Kelly, Moon Lander, 153-154.
Many Grummanites used the word ―elated‖ and ―proud‖ when discussing their feelings about
Apollo 11. For more details, sample the Survey/Questionnaires in the author‘s possession. The ―proud to
41
time, while John Caruso said he ―swelled up‖ with pride ―like a 500 foot diameter
balloon!‖ 81 William Kiesel added that Apollo 11 was ―a long-time dream realized.‖82 And
Bertram Dawkins recalled that they ―all felt that this was the greatest achievement of our
lives.‖83 During Apollo 13, pride swelled among Grummanites once again. Although some
Americans feared the worst for the astronauts, many Grumman engineers and workers felt
confident that their LM would bring them back home safely.84 In short, employee
Laurence Van Wallendael recalled that during the incident, he just thought about ―how
hard everybody [had] worked on [the] LM and knew it would turn out right—The
Grumman Way.‖85 Fortunately for the astronauts and the nation, the company‘s
spacecraft, a vehicle that many had made great sacrifices to bring to fruition, went beyond
be…Grummanite[s]‖ quote comes specifically from William (Bill) Ptucha, Survey/Questionnaire, 19
November 1999, in the author‘s possession.
81
George L. Daelemans, Jr., Survey/Questionnaire, 31 January 2000, in the author‘s possession;
and John Caruso, Survey/Questionnaire, 9 April 2000, in the author‘s possession.
82
William F. Kiesel, IV, Survey/Questionnaire, undated (circa November1999 – April 2000), in
83
Bertram H. Dawkins, Jr. Survey/Questionnaire, 12 July 2000, in the author‘s possession.
84
For some of the Grummanites who felt confident that the LM would bring the astronauts home
safely, see Benjamin F. Beekman, Survey/Questionnaire, 1 March 2000; Fritz Blomback,
Survey/Questionnaire, 4 January 2000; Harry Prodromides, Survey/Questionnaire, undated (circa
November1999 – April 2000; and Raymond Sala, Survey/Questionnaire, 24 November 1999. All in the
author‘s possession.
85
Laurence Van Wallendael, Survey/Questionnaire, 7 February 2000, in the author‘s possession.
Notably, many Grummanites were upset by the 1995 film Apollo 13‘s portrayal of Grummanites. They
believe that the movie unfairly shows the Grumman representative as being ―an ass-covering clown,‖
instead of someone who really worked to help convert the LM into a lifeboat. For the quote, see George L.
Daelemans, Jr., Survey/Questionnaire, 31 January 2000, in the author‘s possession. For other
Grummanites who were upset by the movie‘s interpretation, see Eugene J. Coll, Survey/Questionnaire, 27
January 2000; Bertram H. Dawkins, Jr., Survey/Questionnaire, 12 July 2000; James Panos,
Survey/Questionnaire, 24 April 2000; and Raymond Sala, Survey/Questionnaire, 24 November 1999. All
in the author‘s possession.
42
people‘s expectations. The LM had proved that Grumman products made a difference
when a difference counted. For Grummanites, these were truly triumphant moments.
Grumman and NASA‘s Relationship
When one talks with former Grummanites about their relationship with NASA
during the 1960s, one hears generally positive reviews about teamwork and the great deal
of respect that the two organizations had for one another. While this collaborative
relationship evolved gradually over the course of the LM and OAO programs, it is
important to realize that in several cases such cooperation only came about after a period
of conflict between the two organizations. Troubles between NASA and its contractors
were inevitable in a program the size and magnitude of Apollo. Complications between
Grummanites and the space agency occurred because of the differences between the two
organizational cultures. Grumman was very proud of its relaxed organizational structure
wherein "rigid protocol had no place." 86 NASA, on the other hand, was a much larger and
more structured institution, which, to Grummanites, seemed to require too much testing
and paperwork.87 For Grumman employees used to dealing with the Navy, NASA seemed
"too bureaucratic and documented" and "too involved in day to day activities." 88 The
Navy, after all, had generally left Grumman alone to perfect an aircraft until it was ready
86
"Careers at Grumman," 1967, p. 48, untitled file, Section A-40, NGHC.
87
For discussions about NASA requiring volumes of paperwork, see and compare "Early NASA
Culture and Its Interactions with the Grumman OAO Development Team—The Perceptions of Donald A.
Imgram," sent via e-mail to David H. Onkst, 5 May 1999, 2; Kucera, ―Grumman Aircraft Engineering
Corporation,‖ 191; Robert F. White, Survey/Questionnaire, 25 January 2000; and Raymond Sala,
Survey/Questionnaire, 24 November 1999. Both in the author‘s possession.
88
Bertram H. Dawkins, Jr., Survey/Questionnaire, 12 July 2000, in the author‘s possession
43
to be delivered. But NASA, with its emphasis on schedules and deadlines—which were
necessary if the U.S. was going to land a man on the Moon before the end of the 1960s—
forced Grummanites to learn to work in a whole new manner; thus the 1960s were the
beginning of a new era for Grumman, especially in its relations with the government. 89
Grumman had developed a very close, even ―familial,‖ relationship with the Navy
in the 1930s, and that association set the tone for Grummanites‘ perception of the way in
which the customer/contractor system should work from that point forward; such
perceptions would have a profound impact on the way Grummanites viewed their
interaction with NASA. From the end of World War II until the dawn of the Space Age,
about 90% of Grumman‘s total annual sales had flowed from Navy contracts.90 During
that same period, approximately 60-70% of all of the seafaring service‘s planes had been
made by Grumman.91 It was quite clear that the Navy liked Grumman aircraft, and that
the Bethpage firm loved designing and building planes for it; the procurement process and
contract oversight gave Grumman a virtual lock on naval aviation.92 George Klaus, a
manager at Grumman‘s Electronic Systems Center, remembered: ―In the old days the
Navy would call us up and ask us to build something for them and we would build it.‖93 In
fact, most of the Navy‘s Requests for Proposals (RFPs) appeared to be drafted specifically
89
Many Grummanites remember the Navy as less demanding than NASA. For an example of just
two such discussions, see and compare Raymond Sala, Survey/Questionnaire, 24 November 1999; and
John Caruso, Survey/Questionnaire, 9 April 2000. Both in the author‘s possession.
90
Kucera, ―Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation,‖ 127.
91
Ibid., 128 and 202.
92
Ibid., 202.
93
Ibid., 126.
44
with Grumman‘s capabilities in mind.94 Donald Riehl, another Grummanite, remembered
that ―the Navy was very loosey-goosey and they were willing to give the contractor a lot
of latitude. They would do a lot of things at Grumman on word of mouth kind of thing.‖95
Political scientist Randolph Kucera, an expert on Grumman/Navy relations, has noted that
one of the main reasons the two organizations got along so well was that several former
naval personnel, particularly aviators, went to work for the Bethpage firm. That allowed
Grumman to understand and anticipate what the Navy wanted and a strong bond
developed between the two organizations‘ engineers.96 In essence, Grumman and the
Navy had created a high level of trust and respect for each other from initial aircraft
designs through the final delivery of a plane. This was the type of contractor relationship
that Grumman had grown up with and come to expect.
Grummanites discovered that designing and building spacecraft was a vastly
different process than producing airplanes for the Navy, however. Previously the firm
almost always knew what type of plane the Navy would want before it even asked for it.
94
Ibid., 157-158; and John Caruso, Survey/Questionnaire, 9 April 2000, in the author‘s
possession.
95
The quote is from an interview that historian Stephen Patnode conducted with Donald Riehl in
July 2003. According to Patnode, Riehl had ―worked for both Republic and Grumman (Republic from
1951-1964 with two years out for military service, and Grumman from 1964-1994). He started working
for Republic shortly after he graduated high school. Riehl‘s first job was a blueprint control clerk, which
means he was in charge of tracking blueprints as they made their way through the company. By the time
he retired from Grumman, Riehl was financial manager for computing systems.‖ For the quote about the
relationship between Grumman and the Navy, see Patnode, ―Labor‘s Love Lost,‖ 301. For Riehl‘s
background, see pages 300-301. Grummanite George Skurla also makes a similar observation about the
symbiotic relationship the firm and the Navy had during this period. For more details, see Skurla and
Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 38.
96
Kucera, ―Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation,‖ 166-168 and 183-188.
45
Many of the engineering challenges of a naval plane could be anticipated. With spacecraft,
however, there were a number of unknowns.97 Grumman would have to make multiple
innovations in the design and construction of the LMs and OAOs. NASA also required
more paperwork and oversight than other customers. Redundancy was essential, because
unlike airplanes, most spacecraft could not be retrieved for reevaluation if things went
wrong.98 Furthermore, because NASA and Grumman had not already established a
relationship prior to the Space Age, there were going to be some cultural challenges
between the two organizations, challenges that would ultimately alter Grumman‘s way of
doing things.
Almost from the moment Grumman won the LM contract in November 1962, the
program was behind schedule and over-budget. By 1963, NASA was starting to realize
that the program was going to be much bigger and more expensive than originally
projected. The space agency and its contractors were going to need more facilities,
personnel, and funding if the U.S. was going to land a man on the Moon before the end of
the decade. With these issues in mind, Joseph Shea, NASA‘s Manager of the Apollo
Spacecraft Program Office, turned his attention to the contractors. Shea noticed about
Grumman‘s start-up of the LM Program, ―a real problem getting Grumman to commit
itself to expansion, either in terms of facilities or personnel…. [R]ather than expand to do
97
Ibid., 178-179; and Bertram H. Dawkins, Jr., Survey/Questionnaire, 12 July 2000, in the
author‘s possession
98
Kucera, ―Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation,‖ 166-168 and 189-190.
46
the job that had to get done, they used very heavy overtime and job shoppers.‖99 The firm
did not hire more people as company employees because of its paternalistic management
philosophy; once Grumman hired someone, it felt a responsibility to that person. In the
past, many of the firm‘s managers had agonized about the possible ramifications of laying
off workers and often went out of their way to try to keep employees on the job, even if it
meant transferring them to an entirely different department than was suited to their
skills.100 NASA officials realized that it was not unusual for most companies to have a
slow start to programs, especially given the new larger scope of Apollo, but in their eyes,
the development of the LM needed to be sped along. 101 George Mueller, NASA‘s
Associate Administrator for Manned Space Flight, felt that Grumman‘s ―performance was
lagging.‖102 From his perspective, ―basic improvements were required in the timeliness of
technical solutions, program staffing, cost control, subcontract management and schedule
position‖ at Grumman.103 By 1965, NASA officials were so concerned that they decided
99
In NASA‘s vernacular, job shoppers were people who did not officially work for Grumman,
but were merely ―hired on contract to pad out some of the activities.‖ For more see Joseph F. Shea,
―Apollo Spacecraft and Related Facilities,‖ 52, ―Folder 1—Grumman/LM, Shea Program Review,
November, 1965,‖ ―Additional Background on Grumman/LM,‖ Folder # 012971, Robert Sherrod Apollo
Collection: Gemini Fact Sheets-MSC thru Grumman, NASA Headquarters, NASA Historical Reference
Collection, Washington, DC.
100
George Titterton Interview, NGHC Audio Tape 21, NGHC. For additional information about
the company putting employees in different jobs during slow times so that they could keep them on staff,
see Patnode, ―Labor‘s Love Lost,‖ 245-247 and 260.
101
―Statement by Dr. George E. Mueller, Associate Administrator for Manned Space Flight
before the Senate Committee on Aeronautical and Space Sciences,‖ 12 June 1967, 1, ―Hjornevik Report 620 to 7-1 1966—Findings & Recommendations of,‖ ―Hjornevik Report,‖ Sect. A-67, NGHC.
102
Ibid.
103
Ibid.
47
to send a small group to Bethpage to see if they could get Grumman to make a number of
changes in the way it was handling the LM.
In March, Joseph Shea took a small task force to Bethpage to begin officially
renegotiating Grumman‘s LM contract. Up to that point, the LM agreement had been a
standard cost-plus-fixed-fee contract, which in essence meant the firm would recoup its
overhead on the project, plus a predetermined profit. Shea wanted to convert the program
into a cost-plus-incentive-fee agreement, which would not only pay Grumman its costs,
but also various incentive payments if the firm met key target dates for the delivery of the
LMs. With that type of contract, the better Grumman adhered to the program‘s schedule
and meeting other milestones, the higher its payment. Shea believed that incentives would
help spur Grumman to perform better and follow through on NASA‘s suggestions for
improving the program. But what Shea‘s visit to Bethpage actually did was to cause one
of the first major clashes between the two organizations. The task force‘s mission brought
to a head the tensions that had been growing between Grumman and NASA.104
Shea‘s main goal was to get Grumman to agree to ―25 to 40 percent cuts in cost
and manpower,‖ according to Grumman‘s chief LM engineer Tom Kelly.105 Although
NASA had actually complained that Grumman had not hired enough people in the past, it
believed that manpower costs could be cut significantly if the company stopped its practice
of using job-shoppers and relying heavily on overtime; if the company would just hire
104
Kelly, Moon Lander, 146-147; and ―Statement by Dr. George E. Mueller, Associate
Administrator for Manned Space Flight before the Senate Committee on Aeronautical and Space
Sciences,‖ 12 June 1967, 2, ―Hjornevik Report 6-20 to 7-1 1966—Findings & Recommendations of,‖
―Hjornevik Report,‖ Sect. A-67, NGHC.
105
Kelly, Moon Lander, 146.
48
more regular employees, those problems, which cost too much money, might be
overcome. Grumman managers were floored by NASA‘s request. Joe Gavin, Grumman‘s
LM Program Director (and a company vice president), and Bob Mullaney, the firm‘s LM
Program Manager, successfully combated NASA‘s suggested cuts line-by-line, with a few
minor exceptions. They did not see how they could run the program any other way. The
negotiations, or rather arguments, went on for several days. Tom Kelly remembered the
confrontation: ―the total estimated cost was going up, even beyond our initial position,
because of oversight and underestimates that became apparent during the detailed
negotiations. Joe Shea became increasingly testy; he was gruff with us in our management
interface meetings, and there were reports that he had been dressing down his own troops
for failing to reduce LM costs.‖106 Finally, after roughly a month of discussions, Shea
ended the exercise and left Bethpage. A handful of NASA employees remained behind, to
continue to see if they could find agreement on new terms between the space agency and
the Bethpage firm. 107
In November 1965, Shea filed a report entitled ―Apollo Spacecraft and Related
Facilities,‖ in which he gave NASA officials an honest assessment of the Apollo
contractors. The account made several key points about Grumman and its approach
toward managing the LM program, as well as suggesting why there was so much tension
106
Ibid., 146-147.
107
Ibid., 147.
49
between the firm and the government agency. First of all, Shea found that Grumman‘s
―staffing was always slower than they had promised, than they had estimated, or than the
program needed.‖ 108 One of the main reasons these problems arose was
a complete difference in approach between NASA . . . and
Grumman. This, I think, has probably been the largest single
area of technical irritation between us. We tried to bring in a
fair part of the Mercury-Gemini experience and the ballistic
missile experience, while they were going back and wanting
to do things in effect the way airplanes have been done.
There is a significant difference in those two approaches. 109
Elaborating on the conflict, Shea stressed that ―Grumman has been primarily a Navy
contractor and has done things a particular way with the Navy. The Air Force
approach…is probably somewhat more similar to ours, and that approach…is a detailed
review all through the development cycle of how a contractor performs….The Navy
approach has been, I think, to leave Grumman alone and judge only by end results.‖ 110
Shea believed these differences could be worked out if Grumman would fully accept the
use of a new integrated scheduling system called ―Program Evaluation Review
Technique,‖ or PERT, which NASA was using across the board on the Apollo Program.
Shea and NASA believed in PERT. They thought it did an excellent job integrating
everything about a project into one master system, but Grumman had been slow to adopt
it, and many employees eschewed it. PERT was an invaluable tool for a task as massive
108
Joseph F. Shea, ―Apollo Spacecraft and Related Facilities,‖ 53, ―Folder 1—Grumman/LM,
Shea Program Review, November, 1965,‖ ―Additional Background on Grumman/LM,‖ Folder # 012971,
Robert Sherrod Apollo Collection: Gemini Fact Sheets-MSC thru Grumman, NASA Headquarters, NASA
Historical Reference Collection, Washington, DC.
109
Ibid.
110
Ibid., 57.
50
and complex as Apollo, with so many companies involved. The Navy had originally
created PERT for use in the development of its Polaris Missile system in the late 1950s. It
had proven itself as an indispensible tool in organizing and reviewing the design,
production, and delivery of the missiles.111 Although Grumman had taught its employees
special classes in the use of PERT, many employees resisted the imposition of the system
into their normal routine.112 Shea noted that Grummanites ―needed evidence that PERT
systems or the managements systems truly work[].‖113 For example, Grummanite Bertram
Dawkins, a designer on the LM, had very little regard for PERT. Dawkins believed that
the space agency had become a bureaucracy and as such had come to rely on bureaucratic
systems. He opined, ―when the old NACA [National Advisory Committee on Aeronautics]
was converted into NASA [in 1958], it became a big project agency. As such it imposed
itself on its suppliers, such as Grumman, forcing the use of project structure and
methods…to reflect their own, good or bad. The scheduling system they imposed (PERT)
was extremely wasteful. They were difficult customers.‖114
Yet there was evidence that NASA was correct in its insistence on systems. One
example of how PERT and NASA‘s other organizational techniques seemed to work
111
Kelly, Moon Lander, 101-103. NASA also borrowed some organizational techniques and
systems from the Air Force‘s configuration management system used on the Redstone Missile project. See
pages 101-102 for more on this subject.
112
113
114
Bertram H. Dawkins, Jr., Survey/Questionnaire, 12 July 2000, in the author‘s possession.
51
better than Grumman‘s occurred at the company‘s White Sands, New Mexico test facility,
the place where the firm assessed the LM‘s descent and ascent engines (as well as its
reaction controls). Shea described how PERT had detected that there was going to be at
least a three-month delay (if not more) in one of the component‘s first test-firings, but not
everyone was convinced. 115 Lynn Radcliffe, the Grumman engineer in charge of White
Sands, seemed to understand the situation better than other co-workers and he quickly
embraced NASA‘s new systems and organizational techniques. He had a difficult time
getting other Grummanites to play along, however. He characterized the interactions
between the two organizations:
We didn't know what we were doing…we were trying to
adjust to something like a fish out of water…Organization?
I learned about organizational charts really for the first time
after I went on the Lunar Program…It was like pulling teeth
to get people not to work the way they'd always worked.
My biggest problem were the oldest types in
Grumman…and the only smart thing I ever did was to
understand early, we're playing in NASA's ballpark and
we‘re gonna play by NASA's rules…but these other
experienced Grumman types, nobody was gonna tell them
how to make a spacecraft…and they would get off
track…and wouldn't operate by the book, and NASA would
nail ‗em.116
It took NASA a while to convince Grummanites that PERT was the best system to use,
but eventually most accepted its use, especially when they saw how it could integrate
115
116
Lynn Radcliffe Interview, audio tape, no date, tape mislabeled ―Schoney and Art Baldwin,‖
NGHC. Portions of this quote are contained in Pellegrino and Stoff, Chariots for Apollo, 44.
52
every part of the program and help prevent schedule delays.117
Shea had found other major problems at Grumman during his investigation and he
enumerated these in his November 1965 report. First of all, he did not think that the
company‘s LM Program Office, under the direction of Joe Gavin, was functioning
properly, mainly because of the way the firm had organized the decision-making process
and accountability chain. In Shea‘s opinion, ―Gavin was not getting enough leverage to
get his fair share of the rest of the corporate resources.‖ 118 The problem was that only the
LM managers reported directly to the Program Office, whereas most of the rank-and-file
engineers and personnel assigned to LM were controlled by Grumman‘s general
departments like manufacturing, engineering, and flight testing, among others.119 Shea also
found that Grumman did not oversee its subcontractors very well. As he saw it, the
company had ―a ‗hands off‘ subcontractor management philosophy,‖ one in which
Grumman felt that its only job was to define the technical specifications of a product and
then sit back and wait for the subcontractor to deliver the product. 120
Shea believed that all of these problems stemmed from faults in Grumman‘s
organizational and corporate culture, which stressed a reliance on personal relationships.
117
118
119
Ibid.
120
Ibid., 56.
53
He admitted that ―Grumman is still the best contractor we have working for us on the
Apollo spacecraft program,‖ and he acknowledged that many of the company‘s problems
were normal given the fact that it was taking on a totally new and daunting task like
Apollo. Nevertheless, he argued that Grumman put ―a bit too much faith in the people
delegated to run the program.‖121 He also believed that the company‘s emphasis on total
personal interaction at all levels of the firm and its loose communication style, ironically
caused ―a slightly constricted overall organization.‖122 In an effort to remedy these
problems, Shea met with Grumman‘s top senior officials and convinced them the firm
would be in a ―crisis situation‖ with the LM if it did not start changing things very
quickly.123 As a result, the firm directed Senior Vice President George Titterton to spend
more time overseeing the LM program. Titterton, who was already in charge of watching
over all of the company‘s other programs, business, and contracts, was suddenly spending
about half of his time as the de facto manager of the LM. As Shea noted, as soon as
Titterton stepped in, it ―made a world of difference because all of a sudden things get done
when the LEM needs something.‖ 124
Shea concluded that Grumman was on the way to making the necessary changes
so that the LM Program would work properly, but he also knew that NASA had to
constantly keep the firm‘s unique corporate and organizational culture in mind when
121
Ibid., 57.
122
Ibid.
123
Ibid., 57 and 60.
124
Ibid., 60.
54
considering how the company would react to suggested changes to its routines. As Shea
told NASA officials, ―the Grumman hardware, and the Grumman performance[,] will be
better than perhaps any spacecraft we have had. There is a fundamental integrity in the
company once you get them aroused, [sic] that is going to make them produce. But at the
same time their intense pride and their way of having done things before has made it very
hard for them to recognize that they had a problem. So the strength is also the weakness.‖
125
Fleshing out his overall assessment of Grumman, Shea concluded:
They have a strong faith in their personnel, although we
have indicated that we think that they might do a little
better. It is the situation of a fraternalistic organization.
They would almost rather have somebody like Titterton
come in and straighten the thing out than to make some
organizational changes at the right effective level in the
organization.
This is not to say they don‘t have a very good young
organization. I think it would be very difficult for Grumman
because of just the way they have grown up to bring people
in from the outside and have those people be effective. They
are a build-up-from-the-bottom kind of organization.126
Shea recognized Grumman‘s assets and experience and was ready to work with whatever
shortcomings he saw in the company‘s organizational culture.
By the end of 1965, after several difficult months of discussions and
renegotiations, NASA and Grumman had hammered out a new contract for the LM. 127
The cost-plus-incentive-fee agreement, valued at approximately $1.42 billion, planned the
125
Ibid., 57.
126
Ibid., 61.
127
55
entire program out through the end of the decade. 128 The agreement seemed to calm both
organizations and restore a certain degree of confidence; things seemed to be on the right
track with the LM. However, in early 1966, Grumman‘s new president Lew Evans
reviewed the program and grew very concerned about the company‘s continued escalation
of its costs and its difficulty supervising subcontractors. He therefore asked NASA for
help; he wanted the space agency‘s advice on what Grumman could do to remedy the
situation.129 NASA obliged the new president and sent a team of experts to Bethpage. In
the end, their report helped push Grumman toward a more hierarchical organizational
model, a very different type of firm than Jake Swirbul had helped nurture decades earlier.
In mid-June 1966, at Evans‘ behest, Wesley L. Hjornevik, NASA‘s Associate
Director for Manned Space Flight, took an investigative team to Grumman. The NASA
group began a twelve-day intensive review of the company‘s subcontractor system, as well
as its schedule forecasts and performance. 130 NASA found that most of the firm‘s cost
128
129
before the Senate Committee on Aeronautical and Space Sciences,‖ 12 June 1967, 2, ―Hjornevik Report 620 to 7-1 1966—Findings & Recommendations of,‖ ―Hjornevik Report,‖ Sect. A-67, NGHC; and
Courtney G. Brooks, James M. Grimwood and Loyd S. Swenson, Jr. Chariots for Apollo: A History of
Manned Lunar Spacecraft (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4205, 1979), 197.
Lew Evans took over as Grumman‘s President in 1966 when Leroy ―Roy‖ Grumman retired due
to a serious eye ailment. Clint Towl‘s the company‘s former President had vacated the presidency in order
to take over Roy Grumman‘s former position as Chairman of the Board. For more details about the
transition, see Thruelsen, The Grumman Story, 323.
130
W. L. Hjornevik, ―Findings and Recommendations of the NASA Management Review of the
Lunar Excursion Module (LEM) Program,‖ at Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corp., June 20 – July 1,
1966, NASA-MSC-Houston, ―LM-NASA Review June/July 1966,‖ Sec. A-71, NGHC; Statement by Dr.
George E. Mueller, Associate Administrator for Manned Space Flight before the Senate Committee on
Aeronautical and Space Sciences,‖ 12 June 1967, 3, ―Hjornevik Report 6-20 to 7-1 1966—Findings &
Recommendations of,‖ ―Hjornevik Report,‖ Sect. A-67, NGHC; and Kelly, Moon Lander, 149. Kelly
56
increases and delays were due to its subcontractors. At the time, the oversight of
subcontractors was split between the engineering and business offices. The investigative
team recommended that Grumman create one management position over LM
subcontractors to correct that problem.131 NASA also believed that the Ground Support
Equipment (GSE) team was running too far behind schedule and needed a coordinated
plan for all facets of its operation.132 The space agency wanted Grumman to buy some of
its GSE items from other contractors, like General Electric, North American, and
McDonnell, who were already doing a good job in this area. 133 Finally, and most
significantly, NASA strongly hinted that a major change needed to be made to the LM‘s
management. As the report starkly noted, ―strong program management is absent.‖ 134
claims that the review was ten days long, but on the cover of the report it lists a twelve day investigation
going from June 20 through July 1.
131
1966, NASA-MSC-Houston, 20, 22-23, 54, 61, ―LM-NASA Review June/July 1966,‖ Sec. A-71, NGHC;
and Kelly, Moon Lander, 149.
132
1966, NASA-MSC-Houston, 47-48, 50-51, ―LM-NASA Review June/July 1966,‖ Sec. A-71, NGHC; and
133
Kelly, Moon Lander, 149; and W. L. Hjornevik, ―Findings and Recommendations of the
NASA Management Review of the Lunar Excursion Module (LEM) Program,‖ at Grumman Aircraft
Engineering Corp., June 20 – July 1, 1966, NASA-MSC-Houston, 33, ―LM-NASA Review June/July
1966,‖ Sec. A-71, NGHC.
134
1966, NASA-MSC-Houston, 21, 64-65, 69, ―LM-NASA Review June/July 1966,‖ Sec. A-71, NGHC. The
quote is from page 21.
57
Although George Titterton‘s new oversight of the program over the last year had
improved things substantially, it still was not strong enough.135
In a follow-up letter to Evans, Hjornevik offered a few ―personal observations and
impressions‖ about what he felt were the main reasons Grumman was having problems. 136
His comments cited many of the same glitches that Shea had identified as key difficulties
for the company a year earlier. Hjornevik observed, ―I was struck by the anomaly of a
group of people who, in our judgment, were more competent and capable at every level
than any other contractor in our experience; yet, the net performance was substantially
below that capability.‖137 He believed that there were two reasons for this problem. First,
the company had never worked on a project as large as the LM before, and it
consequently did not know how to organize and manage the program effectively; people
in Grumman‘s various departments tended to leave loose ends to be handled by the
company‘s LM Program Office, and that left the program office with too much to do. In
short, the company was not supporting the LM Program office as well as it could. Second,
Hjornevik felt that the company was performing ―significantly…below-capacity‖ because
of ―the Grumman tradition of informality and the resulting tendency to lack detailed
planning.‖138 As Hjornevik concluded, ―firefighting becomes a way of life. Evidence of this
135
1966, NASA-MSC-Houston, pp. 21, 64-65, 69, ―LM-NASA Review June/July 1966,‖ Sec. A-71, NGHC;
and Kelly, Moon Lander, 150.
136
Wesley L. Hjornevik to Llewellyn J. Evans, 27 July 1966, ―LM-NASA Review June/July
1966,‖ Sec. A-71, NGHC.
137
Ibid.
138
Ibid.
58
problem is replete in our notes. In a program of the scale and complexity of the LEM, this
traditional Grumman mode has become a crippling disease.‖ 139
On August 9, approximately six weeks after the Hjornevik review, the team‘s
leaders returned to Grumman to see how well the company was doing at implementing its
suggestions.140 The firm seemed to have taken the report‘s recommendations seriously and
it had made some major changes, given its usual adherence to a relaxed and friendly
corporate culture. First, Grumman had significantly altered it organizational structure so
that there was a distinct difference between all of the LM‘s operational matters and the
company‘s other departments; all LM matters seemed to finally be controlled by the LM
Program Office.141 Individual subcontract managers were also given much more authority
in the new system, and the firm had even created an overall LM Subcontractor Manager, a
key point for the Hjornevik team.142 Other changes included Grumman‘s acceptance of
significant schedule changes, its agreement to purchase most of its Ground Support
Equipment from its competitors, and its integration of all GSE matters into a master
139
Ibid.
140
141
―Grumman Response to NASA Management Review Team—Findings and
Recommendations,‖ 9 August 1966, ―LM-NASA Review June/July 1966,‖ Sec. A-71, NGHC.
142
Bill Evans was appointed as the LM Subcontractor Manager. See Grumman Response to
NASA Management Review Team—Findings and Recommendations,‖ 9 August 1966, ―LM-NASA
Review June/July 1966,‖ Sec. A-71, NGHC; Statement by Dr. George E. Mueller, Associate
Administrator for Manned Space Flight before the Senate Committee on Aeronautical and Space
Sciences,‖ 12 June 1967, 5-6, ―Hjornevik Report 6-20 to 7-1 1966—Findings & Recommendations of,‖
―Hjornevik Report,‖ Sect. A-67, NGHC; and Kelly, Moon Lander, 150-151.
59
calendar.143 Finally, and most significantly, Grumman replaced Bob Mullaney as LM
Program Manager and increased George Titterton‘s duties so that he was overseeing all of
Grumman‘s space programs.144 Titterton moved out of his old office and into a new work
space located right next to LM Program Director Joe Gavin‘s office in Plant 25, the Lunar
Module‘s main engineering building. Titterton was spending about 80% of his time
supervising the project. These adjustments ensured that the LM Program received the
highest support across the corporation. Surprisingly, Mullaney had become Titterton‘s
staff assistant.145 As Grummanite Tom Kelly, the LM‘s Chief Engineer, noted about this
personnel change, ―to me it seemed that, as program manager, Mullaney had been made
the scapegoat for Grumman‘s poor cost and schedule performance on LM.‖ 146
On August 15, only a few days after the Hjornevik team‘s follow-up review, Joe
Gavin sent a key memo to the company‘s senior managers underscoring the importance of
making NASA‘s recommendations work. Gavin stressed, ―I cannot overemphasize the
143
before the Senate Committee on Aeronautical and Space Sciences,‖ 12 June 1967, 4-6, ―Hjornevik Report
6-20 to 7-1 1966—Findings & Recommendations of,‖ ―Hjornevik Report,‖ Sect. A-67, NGHC. For more
on Grumman‘s purchase of GSE from other companies, see William F. Kiesel, IV, Survey/Questionnaire,
undated (circa November1999 – April 2000), in the author‘s possession.
144
C. William ―Bill‖ Rathke became the new LM Program Manager. See ―Grumman Response to
NASA Management Review Team—Findings and Recommendations,‖ 9 August 1966, ―LM-NASA
Review June/July 1966,‖ Sec. A-71, NGHC.
145
―Grumman Response to NASA Management Review Team—Findings and
Recommendations,‖ 9 August 1966, ―LM-NASA Review June/July 1966,‖ Sec. A-71, NGHC; ―Statement
by Dr. George E. Mueller, Associate Administrator for Manned Space Flight before the Senate Committee
on Aeronautical and Space Sciences,‖ 12 June 1967, 7, ―Hjornevik Report 6-20 to 7-1 1966—Findings &
Recommendations of,‖ ―Hjornevik Report,‖ Sect. A-67, NGHC; and Kelly, Moon Lander, 149-150.
146
Interestingly, as Kelly also stated, ―Joe Shea and Mullaney did not get along well…. Shea was
still smarting from the standoff with Grumman [during the contract renegotiations in March
1965]…where Mullaney outmaneuvered him to a draw.‖ See Kelly, Moon Lander, 150.
60
urgent need for all of us to: (1) Demonstrate to NASA that we will carry out the actions
we plan, and (2) Make a significant improvement in actual performance on the LEM
program.‖147 He wanted to redeem the company in the space agency‘s eyes. Almost a year
later, in May 1967, NASA checked up on Grumman‘s progress once again. Overall, the
agency saw significant improvements and was particularly pleased by the job LM
Subcontractor Manager Brian Evans was doing. The company still needed to improve its
staffing, costs, and scheduling, but NASA believed Grumman would eventually achieve
those goals, especially since it was meeting with a NASA review team on a monthly
basis.148 As a result of the changes precipitated by the Hjornevik report, Tom Kelly
believed that NASA finally ―felt that at last Grumman was going beyond its traditional
dedication to the U.S. Navy and was considering NASA and its Apollo program a very
high priority customer,‖ something that the space agency had been pushing for ever since
the two organizations began working together.149 From NASA‘s perspective, it looked as
if Grumman was finally listening to its customer with an open mind and giving it a healthy
level of respect. But was it? Unfortunately for Grumman, the circumstances surrounding
147
J. G. Gavin, Jr. to J. Buxton, et al, ―Subject: Grumman Response to NASA Management
Review Team Findings and Recommendations,‖ Memo, 15 August 1966, ―Hjornevik Report 6-20 to 7-1
1966—Findings & Recommendations of,‖ ―Hjornevik Report,‖ Sect. A-67, NGHC.
148
J. J. Carroll and the Business Development Department to L. J. Evans, et al, ―Subject: RASPO
Review of the Hjornevik Report,‖ Memo, 12 May 1967, ―Hjornevik Report 6-20 to 7-1 1966—Findings &
Recommendations of,‖ ―Hjornevik Report,‖ Sect. A-67, NGHC; ―Statement by Dr. George E. Mueller,
Associate Administrator for Manned Space Flight before the Senate Committee on Aeronautical and
Space Sciences,‖ 12 June 1967, 10, ―Hjornevik Report 6-20 to 7-1 1966—Findings & Recommendations
of,‖ ―Hjornevik Report,‖ Sect. A-67, NGHC; and Kelly, Moon Lander, 151.
149
61
the delivery of its first operational Lunar Module (LM-1) to NASA in June 1967 once
again made the space agency question Grumman‘s judgment as a contractor.
On the first day of summer, NASA took numerous high-ranking officials and
engineers to Bethpage to begin the Customer Acceptance Readiness Review (CARR) of
the LM-1. The CARR was an intensive and formal review of the vehicle, a mandated
process that called for NASA to physically inspect every aspect of the LM-1 before
accepting its final delivery. CARR represented NASA‘s way of making sure the vehicle
complied with all of the expected specifications. In all, approximately four hundred people
were involved in the CARR, two hundred NASA employees and two hundred of their
Grumman counterparts. Grumman had a difficult time finding enough space for that many
people to meet and work together comfortably. As Tom Kelly remembered the event,
George Titterton had ―decided to pattern the CARR on the annual Grumman
stockholders‘ meeting.‖150 He cleared out one of the company‘s largest hangars and put
up several hundred folding chairs facing a large raised stage to accommodate the review‘s
largest and most important session. What followed was ―a tragic comic circus,‖ Kelly
noted.151 The massive hangar reverberated deafeningly with that many people in it. Review
board members had to repeat things two or three times in order to be heard, even with
loudspeakers. And temperatures inside the facility rose considerably, especially after they
shut the hangar‘s doors to cut down on outside noise. Space agency representatives,
although patient, were clearly aggravated by the situation. Kelly remembered watching
150
Ibid., 3.
151
Ibid., 182.
62
―NASA officials desultorily thumbing through some of the briefing handout material and
looking at their watches every minute or two. Surely in another few minutes they would
leave.‖152 The CARR meeting lasted until just a little bit before 8:00 P.M. that evening.
For NASA representatives, it had been a very long day, and one that reminded them how
differently Grumman treated them compared to some of the other Apollo contractors,
particularly North American Aviation (NAA).153
As Tom Kelly revealed in his autobiographical account about designing and
building the LM, NASA always felt much more comfortable dealing with North American
than with Grumman, even after the Apollo 1 fire of January 1967, which had been caused
by NAA‘s equipment. From NASA‘s perspective, NAA treated it with respect and seemed
to focus all of its attention on Apollo. Grumman, on the other hand, had avoided
implementing several of NASA‘s suggestions; the Bethpage company appeared a bit
arrogant.154 Part of NASA‘s perception about the two organizations stemmed from the
different approaches they took toward accommodating the space agency‘s representatives
from the very beginning of their relationships.
Shortly after Grumman had won the LM contract in November 1962, it sent a
handful of engineers to southern California to tour North American‘s facilities. NAA was
the Apollo Program‘s leading contractor, having won the right to design and build the
Apollo Command/Service Module, the second stage of the Saturn V launch vehicle, as
152
Ibid. 5.
153
For Kelly‘s full recollections about the LM-1 CARR, see ibid., 3-6.
154
Kelly, Moon Lander, 261. For an insightful discussion about the difference between
―responsive‖ and ―arrogant‖ aerospace contractors, see Bromberg, NASA and the Space Industry, 43-44.
63
well as the Saturn V‘s F-1 and J-2 engines (NAA‘s subsidiary, Rocketdyne, was in charge
of the engines). To accommodate NASA officials, NAA had constructed a stylish and
sophisticated air-conditioned meeting room, complete with the best audio-visual
equipment of the day. John Paup, NAA‘s Apollo Program Director at the time, advised
the visiting Grummanites to build the same type of facilities back in Bethpage. However,
Grumman‘s senior officials saw no reason to do so. ―The company fathers and their navy
customers had grown up and worked in Spartan, austere surroundings. They cherished the
‗hair-shirt‘ image of frugality and conservatism, which had always suited the navy,‖ Kelly
recalled.155 ―How, they asked (not unreasonably), could we expect the navy to be content
with second-class facilities at Grumman if they saw a luxurious NASA center right in
Bethpage?‖ 156 Grumman‘s failure to construct such a facility had caused serious problems
for the company, especially during the LM-1 CARR. Kelly believed that it was ―obvious
that the austere image that played so well with the navy was alienating the NASA
management of Apollo.‖157 Although Grumman would go on to build a sophisticated onsite NASA facility along NAA lines, the new building would come too late. By that time,
NASA representatives had already been reminded of their second-rate status at Grumman,
at least compared to the way NAA and other contractors treated them.158
155
156
Ibid.
157
Ibid.
158
For Kelly‘s full recollections about the differences between NAA‘s and Grumman‘s NASA
facilities, see ibid., 46-47.
64
A few months after the historic Apollo 11 mission, Eugene Drucker, a researcher
from Syracuse University, wrote an important report about the relationship between
NASA and some of its key contractors. The October 1969 study detailed some of the
common challenges contractors faced in their interaction with the space agency. Drucker
had interviewed roughly fifty employees, anonymously, from McDonnell-Douglas, North
American (including Rocketdyne, one of its subsidiaries), and Grumman. 159 A common
observation the workers made was that NASA had pushed their companies to create
strong, ―semi-autonomous,‖ Apollo Program offices.160 Some characterized these new
types of offices as being ―a company within a company.‖ 161 Although some contractors
readily accepted such organizational changes, others had resisted NASA‘s influence for as
long as they could—as Grumman had—but then still ultimately gave in to the space
agency. 162 Another common complaint was that there was ―excessive monitoring on the
part of NASA, and undue penetration into the internal affairs of [each] company.‖ 163
Although most recognized that these changes were supposedly positive attempts by
NASA to help their companies operate more effectively and efficiently, Drucker found
that NASA interference ―create[d] in the contractors‘ organizations a ‗goldfish bowl
159
Eugene E. Drucker, ―The Apollo Project Manager-Contractor Interface,‖ Working Paper No.
4, Syracuse/NASA Program, Syracuse University, NGL 33-022-090, October 1969, 1, NASA
Headquarters, Library, Washington, DC.
160
Ibid., 8.
161
Ibid.
162
Ibid.
163
Ibid., 11.
65
complex.‘‖ 164 Many had also been bothered by what they perceived as ―excessive requests
by NASA for information, briefings, [and] proposals, etc.‖165 And some workers had been
frustrated by misunderstandings about who the decision-makers were at different levels of
NASA (unlike at the companies, which seemed clearly delineated to the employees), as
well as the realization that NASA/contractor relationships were sometimes greatly affected
by managers‘ personalities, as the clash between Joe Shea and Bob Mullaney had proven
(Shea and Mullaney had not get along well during the early days of the LM Program). 166
Although the workers understood that NASA had to impose a great many changes on
their organizations in order to make sure a program as complex as Apollo reached its
ultimate goal of a manned lunar landing before 1970, many still found the process of
change extremely unsettling.167
In the end, many Grummanites remember NASA‘s supervision and interaction with
them as bureaucratic and meddlesome. The Navy had been liberal in the oversight of its
aircraft contracts, but NASA was an entirely different type of customer. Grummanites
found the agency very formal in its management style, and very intrusive. Engineer John
Caruso, for example, observed that with NASA ―everything had to be done ‘by the
164
Ibid.
165
Ibid.
166
Ibid., 11, 14, and 4. For additional information about the unclear chain of command for
decision making, see Kucera, ―Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation,‖ 191.
167
Eugene E. Drucker, ―The Apollo Project Manager-Contractor Interface,‖ Working Paper No.
4, Syracuse/NASA Program, Syracuse University, NGL 33-022-090, October 1969, 11, 14 and 4, NASA
Headquarters, Library, Washington, DC.
66
book.‘"168 S. Murray Krameisen, a company draftsman, remembered that in his department
NASA‘s questions and changes had to be passed down through the chain of command,
instead of the NASA people coming directly to him and talking with him face-to-face—a
very different system than Grumman‘s ―classless‖ management style where all levels of
employees interacted on a regular basis.169 Similarly, Raymond Sala, a test engineer and
lab manager, believed that there were just ―too many management systems‖ once the
Apollo Program started.170 He really ―didn‘t care for the NASA bureaucracy.‖ 171 John
Morrison, the foreman of the LM Ascent Stage Structure Assembly and a supervisor at
Cape Canaveral, complained that the space agency had ―too much involvement in day-today activities.‖ 172 He found ―it was quite different working with NASA. We were not
used to outside surveillance of everything we did.‖173 William Kiesel, a fluids power
engineer, joked, ―we used to say that we would reach the moon simply by just stacking-up
all the paperwork!‖174 And Don Imgram, one of the OAO‘s lead engineers, believed that
168
John Caruso, Survey/Questionnaire, 9 April 2000, in the author‘s possession.
169
S. Murray Krameisen, Survey/Questionnaire, 22 November 1999, in the author‘s possession.
For more on NASA‘s formal management approach, also see Kucera, ―Grumman Aircraft Engineering
Corporation,‖ 191. Stephen Patnode also notes that some decisions had to start going through a
hierarchical chain of command, although he does not relate it directly to NASA‘s influence. See Patnode,
―Labor‘s Love Lost,‖ 261-262.
170
Raymond Sala, Survey/Questionnaire, 24 November 1999, in the author‘s possession.
171
Ibid.
172
John M. Morrison, Survey/Questionnaire, undated (circa November1999 – April 2000), in the
173
174
Ibid.
67
NASA's constant monitoring of his program was "enormously intrusive and thoroughly
unnecessary."175 According to his calculations, over a third of the cost of the OAO
program was wasted on having to respond to all of NASA‘s inquires during an "era of
justification."176 Finally, summing up most Grummanites‘ feelings about the space agency,
company President John Bierwirth, who would take over the firm in November 1972,
simply concluded that NASA just ―got too bureaucratic.‖177
Despite this challenging relationship during the Apollo Program, a few
Grummanites remarked on NASA‘s professionalism and fondly remember some individual
interactions. Eugene Toscano, a Grumman model designer, for example, felt that agency
representatives were ―great to work with,‖ and remembered them as being ―friendly and
professional.‖ 178 He even became ―good friends‖ with some of them. 179 Walter Muench,
an assistant project engineer on one of the OAOs, also found the space agency‘s people to
175
"Early NASA Culture and Its Interactions with the Grumman OAO Development Team—The
Perceptions of Donald A. Imgram," sent via e-mail to David H. Onkst, 5 May 1999, 2.
176
"Early NASA Culture and Its Interactions with the Grumman OAO Development Team—The
Perceptions of Donald A. Imgram," sent via e-mail to David H. Onkst, 5 May 1999, 2. For more on NASA
causing unnecessary paperwork, see Kucera, ―Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation,‖ 191; Robert
F. White, Survey/Questionnaire, 25 January 2000; and Raymond Sala, Survey/Questionnaire, 24
November 1999. Both in the author‘s possession.
177
John C. Bierwirth, Survey/Questionnaire, 31 May 2000, in the author‘s possession. George
Daelemans, one the key OAO engineers, remembered NASA workers in a more ambivalent way than
some Grummanties. As he observed, those ―who had always worked as government employees tended to
consider contractors as potential cheaters, while those who had come from private industry cut us more
slack." See George L. Daelemans, Jr., Survey/Questionnaire, 31 January 2000, in the author‘s possession.
Historian Stephen Patnode has also noted that Grummanites felt that the company had become more
―bureaucratic and hierarchical‖ in the 1960s and 1970s, although he does not specifically tie it to the
intrusion of NASA. For more, see Patnode, ―Labor‘s Love Lost,‖ 286 and 297.
178
Eugene J. Toscano, Survey/Questionnaire, 29 January 2000, in the author‘s possession.
179
Ibid.
68
be ―very professional‖ and ―very friendly,‖ and he discovered that they ―knew their
engineering and management side very well.‖180 Test engineer Raymond Sala offered that
NASA was a ―good customer insofar as working out problems & requirements were
concerned,‖ but he did not elaborate much more.181 And Mike Hlinko, a senior design
engineer, ―had a high respect for NASA people.‖182 Still, to be sure, even though some
Grummanites remember certain NASA workers fondly and with respect, others still
cannot help but think about the space agency‘s management and oversight of its programs
and the stress that it caused for them.
In sum, NASA and Grumman‘s interaction during the Apollo era revealed a clash
between two organizational cultures. Grumman tried to adhere to the older, more
traditional way of doing business, which was based on trust and the belief that people
would get everything done correctly and on time, while NASA‘s more calculated
approach relied on systems and schedules that accounted for every detail. To many
Grummanites, NASA‘s system seemed impersonal and based solely on numbers and
calendars, whereas their system relied on people and trusting relationships. That is not to
say that Grumman did not have its own sophisticated project systems before NASA
entered the picture, but merely to note that it favored a people-oriented approach, rather
than the cold scientific methods of the new era. NASA‘s organizational systems were
180
Walter K. Muench, Survey/Questionnaire, 14 August 2000, in the author‘s possession. For
some other Grummanites who also spoke about NASA representatives‘ friendly and pleasant demeanor,
see N. Roy Tegner, Survey/Questionnaire, 20 January 2000; and Henry L. Pallmeyer,
Survey/Questionnaire, 21 February 2000. Both in the author‘s possession.
181
182
Michael F. Hlinko, Survey/Questionnaire, 21 December 1999, in the author‘s possession.
69
necessary to accomplish a task as large and complex as Apollo in a timely manner. But for
Grummanites, the transition to NASA‘s new systems and organizational techniques was
very unsettling. Bertram Dawkins, a LM Designer, aptly summed up the entire experience
for many Grummanites: ―We had a comfortable working arrangement with the US Navy.
When NASA arrived, they wished to impose their way of doing things. They also brought
a great deal of bureaucracy and the need for a great deal of documentation.‖ 183
Grummanites, the Space Race,
and Apollo‘s Deadline
Ever since President John F. Kennedy‘s May 25, 1961 announcement that the
U.S. would pursue the goal of landing a man on the Moon before the end of that decade,
scholars and the media have overwhelmingly highlighted the role that the Cold War played
in driving the Apollo Program. For most Americans, Apollo represented a race between
the United States and the Soviet Union—a contest to prove one nation‘s supposed
technological and scientific superiority over the other. 184 On this issue, historian Joan Lisa
Bromberg has argued that NASA and the aerospace industry of the 1960s "served as a
means for waging the cold war…. NASA and [space] industry engineers…often shared a
183
184
There are a multitude of books that stress the Cold War was the driving force behind the
Apollo Program. One of the classic works is Walter A. McDougall‘s Pulitzer Prize-winning book …The
Heavens and the Earth: A Political History of the Space Age (New York: Basic Books, 1985). Notably,
space historian John Logsdon has recently revealed that President Kennedy was trying to develop a jointU.S./U.S.S.R. lunar landing program shortly before he died that would have halted the Apollo Program
and ended the Space Race. For more, see John M. Logsdon, John F. Kennedy and the Race to the Moon
(New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010). For an extensive list of books and articles that stress the Space
Race aspects of Apollo, see ―Chapter 2: The Space Race‖ in Roger D. Launius and J.D. Hunley, An
Annotated Bibliography of the Apollo Program, NASA Monographs in Aerospace History, Number 2,
(Washington, DC: NASA History Office, July 1994), 13-18.
70
common version of patriotism—a commitment to winning the space race in the name of
the United States and the capitalist system."185 Even though many people have stressed the
desire to beat the Russians to the Moon as the main motivation behind the Apollo
Program, one facet of this study has been to investigate to what extent that factor actually
drove Grummanites. Were the thoughts of winning a Cold War battle for the United
States foremost in their minds? Although it is clear that Kennedy's lunar landing schedule
mobilized the aerospace industry to win the Space Race for the U.S., it is important to
realize that the Cold War actually played only a small role in motivating Grummanites to
build and perfect the LMs and deliver them on time. Pride—individual, departmental, and
company pride—coupled with the pure thrill of engineering problem-solving, are what
spurred on Grummanites to construct the LMs, not the Cold War race to the Moon.
For most of the Grummanites who designed and built the LMs, working on the
program fostered a combination of incredible pride, passion, and pressure. All of them
were aware that the entire world was literally watching their efforts, because unlike the
Soviet Union's program, the U.S. civil space program's missions were televised. They also
knew that America's technological honor was a stake if they did not beat the Russians to
the Moon. And making the situation even more stressful, President Kennedy‘s deadline
loomed over their heads. Tom Kelly, Grumman's Chief Engineer on the Lunar Module and
the so-called "father of the LM," was particularly cognizant of these factors. But Kelly's
awareness of the gravity of the program went a step further than most. He realized that it
185
Bromberg, NASA and the Space Industry, 6 and 9.
71
was also Grumman's reputation and future that was at stake. If the company succeeded,
the LM would enhance Grumman's already "sterling" reputation, but if it failed, both the
nation and the company would be humiliated.
Although it is reasonable to assume Grummanites‘ attitudes and motivations were
closely attuned to the Cold War implications of their work, the goal of racing to the Moon
played a very minor role, if any at all, in their thinking. While the Space Race definitely
helped determine the LM‘s delivery schedule and thereby defined the overall parameters of
the program, Grummanites treated NASA's timetable like any other contractor's delivery
schedule, not like an international showdown with the Soviet Union. As Grumman LM
propulsion engineer Lynn Radcliffe observed, "You know, sometimes you run a race
against competition and sometimes you only run it against the clock. I thought we were
only running against the clock—the decade of the 60s."186 John Morrison, one of the
company‘s supervisors at Cape Kennedy, stated that his main ―desire was to do the best
job possible, to build a space craft, to safely bring our astronauts to the moon and back,
not to beat the Russians, but to do a perfect job."187 Robert White, a Grumman model
designer, ―saw no need at all to race or be first.‖ 188 For him, ―it was [just] important to go
to the moon, for technical knowhow.‖ 189 He added that the LMs ―were no different than
186
NGHC Audio Tape # 24, ―LM—Lynn Radcliffe‖ 6/12/83, NGHC.
187
John M. Morrison, Survey/Questionnaire, undated (circa November1999 – April 2000), in the
188
Robert F. White, Survey/Questionnaire, 25 January 2000, in the author‘s possession.
189
Ibid.
72
the rest of the contracts,‖ except that they received all of the ―limelight.‖ 190 Henry
Pallmeyer, who had worked on the LM throughout the Apollo 11 mission, did not think
that beating the Russians factored into his or his colleagues‘ work motivations ―at all, we
just did our job.‖ 191 Similarly, LM test engineer Raymond Sala ―never thought about the
Space Race except when it caused us to work OT [overtime]. We just did our work as
best we could…. We loved our work and wanted Grumman to do well.‖192 And George
Meltzer, a LM tool fabricator, wanted ―to do the best I could to keep Grumman's
reputation untarnished.‖193 Even when the Cold War seemed to motivate some
Grummanites‘ more strongly than others, it still intertwined with their identities as
company employees. For example, Ray Russo, a structural mechanic and supervisor on
the LM, admitted that, although the space race ―influenced and motivated [him] greatly,‖
it mainly did so by making him ―more conscious of the schedule and [the need] to produce
a quality product.‖194 In a similar vein, Laurence Van Wallendael merely saw the building
of the LM as ―a race to see who did better and Grumman came out on top.‖195
190
Ibid.
191
Henry L. Pallmeyer, Survey/Questionnaire, 21 February 2000, in the author‘s possession.
192
193
George Melzer, Survey/Questionnaire, 20 November 1999, in the author‘s possession.
194
Raymond R. Russo, Survey/Questionnaire, 27 January 2000, in the author‘s possession.
195
Laurence Van Wallendael, Survey/Questionnaire, 7 February 2000, in the author‘s possession.
For more about the idea of merely being motivated to do a good job as a ―contractor,‖ see Walter K.
Muench, Survey/Questionnaire, 14 August 2000; and Michael F. Hlinko, Survey/Questionnaire, 21
December 1999. Both in the author‘s possession.
More instances of company pride being a major motivator can be found in Eugene J. Coll,
Survey/Questionnaire, 27 January 2000; Raymond R. Russo, Survey/Questionnaire, 27 January 2000;
Robert F. White, Survey/Questionnaire, 25 January 2000; and Michael F. Hlinko, Survey/Questionnaire,
21 December 1999. All in the author‘s possession.
73
One of the most common images that the history of the Apollo Program conjures
up is a picture of aerospace workers laboring countless hours and enduring enormous
amounts of pressure. That image, in most cases, is quite correct. It was not uncommon
for many Grummanites to work twelve to fourteen hour days, seven days a week, for
several months in a row. While some worked during the day, others came in at night.
Many of Grumman‘s facilities, such as Plant 5 (one of the LM‘s key assembly buildings),
operated twenty-four hours a day during the peak of production. 196 Although Grumman
technically had several different work shifts, it was often difficult to tell who was working
which one because of the constant hours of overtime everyone was putting in around the
clock.
Interestingly, while there was definitely a great deal of pressure generated by the
LM‘s tight schedule, many Grummanites believed that most of the stress they felt was
actually self-generated. Ozzie Williams, the man in charge of the LM's reaction control,
noted that most Grummanites knew and accepted the fact they would have to put in long
hours, because no one was really sure how the LM was actually going to come to fruition.
In his eight years on the program, there were only about a half dozen weekends he did not
work. Space flight, after all, was a new phenomenon, and there did not seem to be
enough hours in the day to consider all of the aerodynamic challenges that they would run
And for a few instances in which Grummanites specifically mention the desire to beat the
Russians to the moon, see Bertram H. Dawkins, Jr., Survey/Questionnaire, 12 July 2000; James Panos,
Survey/Questionnaire, 24 April 2000; and to a lesser extent N. Roy Tegner, Survey/Questionnaire, 20
January 2000. All in the author‘s possession.
196
"Tabulation of Employees, December 1966," "Women," Section A-8, NGHC. See all of the
Grummanite survey/questionnaires in the author‘s possession for more about all of the work hours they
averaged.
74
up against in the endless frontier.197 Consequently, employees constantly pressed
themselves to make sure they had all their bases covered. As Williams observed, everyone
realized that they were essentially "climbing this [type of] Everest" and they were not quite
sure how they were going to get to the top.198 They felt confident that they would make it,
but they were not always sure which route they would need to take.199
But LM engineers and workers were not the only Grummanites who worked long
hours and felt the pressures of deadlines. Many of the OAO program workers also logged
in a great deal of overtime, often to the detriment of their families. As one of the OAO's
chief engineers noted, the average OAO engineer worked approximately sixty to seventy
hours a week. That same engineer twice cancelled a celebration of his twenty-fifth
wedding anniversary because it conflicted with important business at the company. He
also had to disappoint his family by calling them from work and cancelling their trip to
California after they were already packed and waiting in the car. 200
Grummanites made incredible sacrifices to make sure that the LMs and OAOs
were successful. Sometimes the trade-offs were well worth it because of the immense
pride and excitement they felt. Many Grummanites, for example, believed that their
ultimate payoff came when they watched the Apollo 11 Lunar Module (LM-5) during its
197
For more on the unknowns in spacecraft design, see Bertram H. Dawkins, Jr.,
Survey/Questionnaire, 12 July 2000, in the author‘s possession
198
"Ozzie Williams Interview," LM #31, 6/1/83, audio tape, NGHC.
199
Ibid.
200
Donald A. Imgram," sent via e-mail to David H. Onkst, 5 May 1999, 8-9.
75
historic mission, while others felt greater satisfaction from their work on the Apollo 13
module (LM-7) because it had saved the lives of three astronauts. Still, for all of the
positive aspects they saw from working long hours, they also saw some distinctly negative
ramifications, mainly the neglect of their families. Many Grumman spouses had to raise
children on their own. As Karl Jurgensen remembered, overtime ―definitely put more load
on wives at home with children.‖201 Eugene Coll, for example, only saw his three sons on
the weekends.202 For Bertram Dawkins, ―the long hours kept me out of the house during
the period when the 1st and 2nd children were growing up.‖203 Henry Pallymeyer
regretted that ―the result of these overtime hours was that my wife brought up my
children.‖204 And Ray Russo confessed, ―I missed watching my children grow and being
part of their lives as a father.‖205
Although the long hours definitely harmed family relationships, the overtime pay
helped many Grummanites‘ families to afford a middle-class lifestyle. Although some
might not have been home to provide parental guidance, they at least brought home the
economic support to help their families. Bill Ptucha, for instance, remembered that ―the
extra money came in handy for extra items, savings for education for children and yearly
family vacations.‖206 While Robert Innoesu admitted ―all the overtime allowed for many
201
Karl Jurgensen, Survey/Questionnaire, 1 April 2000, in the author‘s possession.
202
Eugene J. Coll, Survey/Questionnaire, 27 January 2000, in the author‘s possession.
203
204
Henry L. Pallmeyer, Survey/Questionnaire, 21 February 2000, in the author‘s possession.
205
206
William (Bill) Ptucha, Survey/Questionnaire, 19 November 1999, in the author‘s possession.
76
things we normally could not afford.‖207 Notably, all thirty-one of the Grummanites who
participated in the survey for this study owned homes in the Apollo era. 208
And still, yet another irony of the overtime issue was that although Grummanites
were able to fulfill many of their middle-class material aspirations, the long hours they
worked ultimately keep them from fully enjoying those goods, and therefore certain
aspects of their social status. As the famous sociologist C. Wright Mills noted in his study
of the 1950s American middle-class, one of the fundamental values of the middle-class
was the growth of more leisure time. In fact, Mills discovered that most Americans
actually disliked their jobs and only went to work in order to have enough money to obtain
leisure goods and more recreational time. Conversely, many Grummanites honestly found
their jobs quite exciting and fun. In a sense, for many Grummanites, work was their
leisure activity. Nevertheless, they still realized that even though they had improved
certain aspects of their socioeconomic lives, they still fell short in other areas and were
unable to partake of all of the benefits of their labor. 209
Work and the Promise of the Endless Frontier
Shortly after the birth of the aviation industry in the late 1910s, those who chose to
207
Robert Ionescu, Survey/Questionnaire, 1 December 1999, in the author‘s possession. For more
about some of the Grummanites who were happy to work overtime, see and compare William (Bill)
Ptucha, Survey/Questionnaire, 19 November 1999; Eugene J. Coll, Survey/Questionnaire, 27 January
2000; Bertram H. Dawkins, Jr., Survey/Questionnaire, 12 July 2000; S. Murray Krameisen,
Survey/Questionnaire, 22 November 1999; George Melzer, Survey/Questionnaire, 20 November 1999; and
N. Roy Tegner, Survey/Questionnaire, 20 January 2000. All in the author‘s possession.
208
209
See all Grummanite survey/questionnaires in the author‘s possession for more on this point.
For more on these issues, see C. Wright Mills, White Collar: The American Middle Classes (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1953), 235-37.
77
join the business quickly realized that employment in aeronautics could be quite unstable.
Workers came to understand that a company‘s survival depended on its ability to keep
securing new aircraft contracts; that was the reality that many of the first generation of
aeronautical engineers and production workers—those who would eventually manage the
aircraft companies of the postwar era—experienced during their formative years in the
industry. But in the 1950s, a new generation of aeronautical engineers was preparing to
enter the workforce. Many in this second generation of professionals would hold a
different view about their work and their future prospects, especially after the
dissemination of the vision of several key space exploration advocates. In the 1950s,
Wernher von Braun, a former German rocket engineer who would become known as ―the
father‖ of the Saturn V (the Apollo Program‘s launch vehicle), space exploration writer
Willy Ley, and several other space travel advocates, would help foster a seemingly realistic
image about the possibilities of what engineers might achieve if humankind pushed out
into space. Bringing those visions to fruition took on a new sense of urgency for space
exploration boosters after the Soviet Union launched Sputnik 1 in October 1957. Suddenly
the U.S. needed a civilian army of aerospace engineers who could help the nation
demonstrate its supposed scientific and technological superiority over the Russians. The
new industry responded by enlarging its engineering cadre significantly to achieve a lunar
landing, among other undertakings. Although von Braun and others had envisioned a
different order of space missions and programs before going to the Moon, it still seemed
to many engineers and other advocates that Apollo was just the first step into the heavens.
78
And that idea would be reinforced by the aerospace industry throughout most of the
1960s. For many engineers who joined the aerospace business during this era, it was as if
there was a tacit promise of a career‘s worth of work on vehicles that would explore the
endless frontier of space.210
As space historians such as Dwayne Day, Roger Launius, Michael Neufeld,
Howard McCurdy, and Sylvia Doughty Fries have revealed, many NASA engineers and
managers were so acculturated in von Braun‘s original vision of space exploration that it
significantly influenced the shaping of much of the space agency‘s future. Many at NASA
embraced his version of manned space flight, which included a space shuttle, a space
station, a lunar landing, and a mission to Mars; as Dwayne Day first argued, this ―Von
Braun Paradigm‖ was a guiding philosophy for many at the space agency.211 Von Braun‘s
210
Although many people refer to space as ―the final frontier,‖ others call it ―the endless
frontier.‖ For one key example see Ken Hechler, Toward the Endless Frontier: History of the Committee
on Science and Technology, 1959-1979 (Washington, DC: U.S. House of Representatives, 1980).
211
For Day‘s exploration of the ―Von Braun Paradigm,‖ see Dwayne A. Day, ―The Von Braun
Paradigm,‖ Space Times (November-December 1994): 12-15; and Dwayne A. Day, ―Paradigm Lost,‖
Space Policy 11 (August 1995): 153-159. Space historian Michel Neufeld recently noted that even though
Day‘s idea of the ―Von Braun Paradigm was ―controversial from the start,‖ because some felt that he had
overlooked or downplayed other space exploration plans that were present in the period, it still ―was
undeniably influential over the long run, especially on spaceflight true believers inside the movement and
in the general public.‖ As Neufeld concludes about the subject: ―I would agree that Dwayne Day‘s thesis
of a von Braun paradigm consisting of four main elements [shuttle, station, moon, Mars, respectively]
remains a plausible interpretative device for analyzing a half century of U.S. human spaceflight planning,
especially up to 1989.‖ These quotes are from pages 326 and 346 of Michael J. Neufeld, ―The ‗Von Braun
Paradigm‘ and NASA‘s Long-Term Planning for Human Spaceflight,‖ in Steven Dick, ed., NASA‘s First
50 Years—Historical Perspectives (Washington, DC: NASA SP-2010-4704, 2010), 325-347. Neufeld‘s
recent biography of von Braun also contains numerous illustrations about how von Braun‘s vision inspired
NASA officials and other space boosters. For more details, see, Michael J. Neufeld, Von Braun: Dreamer
of Space, Engineer of War (New York, NY: Vintage Books, 2007). Howard McCurdy also explores this
issue rather extensively in Howard E. McCurdy, Space and the American Imagination (Washington, DC:
Smithsonian Institution Press, 1997). In Sylvia Doughty Fries, NASA Engineers and the Age of Apollo
(Washington, DC: NASA SP-4104, 1992), there are also several instances of von Braun and his cohorts‘
vision shaping aerospace workers ideas about space flight and exploration. Some other key works that
have explored and dissected Day‘s idea include Roger D. Launius, Space Stations: Base Camps to the
79
concepts first started to gain traction in the public‘s imagination through a series of
articles in the popular magazine Collier‘s that began on March 22, 1952. Von Braun
penned the first article ―Man Will Conquer Space Soon: Top Scientists Tell How in 15
Startling Pages.‖212 Other contributors to the eight-part series included several of the day‘s
other well-known authors and scientists, such as spaceflight popularizer Willy Ley,
Harvard astronomer Fred Whipple, and author/journalist Cornelius Ryan, among others.
Chesley Bonestall, ―the most influential space artist of the time,‖ provided exquisite
illustrations for the series.213 In von Braun‘s opener, he detailed his plans for a massive
Earth-orbiting space station from which the U.S. could launch lunar missions; collectively,
the articles put forth a vision that included not only the creation of a space station, but also
landing men on the Moon, the establishment of a lunar base, and a manned mission to
Mars. At the same time that the articles were running, von Braun was appearing on several
television shows to promote his and his colleagues‘ ideas. Walt Disney would even
produce a series of programs with the help of von Braun, Ley, and others, in order to
advertise the Tomorrowland section of his new theme park Disneyland. The Disney
shows, which ran from 1955 through 1957 and featured von Braun, revealed to millions of
Americans the possibilities of spaceflight as conceived by von Braun and his colleagues.
By the time the first Sputnik launched in the fall of 1957, Americans had an expansive idea
Stars (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2002), 26-27; Roger D. Launius and Howard E.
McCurdy, Robots in Space: Technology, Evolution, and Interplanetary Travel (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 2008), 64-65.
212
213
McCurdy, Space and the American Imagination, 38-39; and Neufeld, Von Braun, 259.
The quote is from McCurdy, Space and the American Imagination, 39. For more on Bonestall,
see Neufeld, Von Braun, 257-259.
80
of the possibilities of space exploration, thanks to von Braun and his cohort.214
This optimistic view seemed to promise years of employment for those entering the
aerospace industry. One of the best examples of this can be found in David Beers‘s
autobiographical account of what it was like to grow up the son of a Lockheed aerospace
engineer in the 1960s. Beers imagined his family and their fellow aerospace engineering
neighbors as belonging to a special kind of ―blue sky tribe,‖ led by the father figure of von
Braun. The tribe worshiped the growth and success of the military industrial complex (and
its ventures into the heavens), and was richly rewarded for its devotion. 215 Beers‘s
―communal memoir‖ demonstrates what a profound effect Sputnik, von Braun, and the
Space Race had on this community.216 Beers‘s father, a naval aviator who had flown
Grumman F9F Cougars in the service, had obtained an aeronautical engineering degree at
Purdue University; notably, Neil Armstrong, another Purdue aerospace engineering
graduate, and the man who would become the first person to walk on the Moon, was one
of his classmates.217 Beers‘s parents had watched the first Sputnik orbit overhead from
214
Both Howard McCurdy and Michael Neufeld cover the Collier‘s articles and their effects on
NASA planers and space boosters thoroughly. For an extensive discussion on this subject, see and
compare McCurdy, Space and the American Imagination, 37-71; and Neufeld, Von Braun, 255-278 and
285-290.
215
Beers got the idea of describing his family and their cohorts as a ―tribe‖ from anthropologist
Hugh Gusterson‘s book Nuclear Rites: A Weapons Laboratory at the End of the Cold War (1998) about
the workers and their community at the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory in Livermore,
California. See David Beers, Blue Sky Dream: A Memoir of America's Fall From Grace (New York:
Doubleday, 1996), vii and 21-22.
216
For the ―communal memoir‖ quote, see Beers, Blue Sky Dream, vii.
217
Ibid., 3-7 and 131.
81
their backyard in Springdale, Ohio.218 Beers described the impact that flight had on his
family and his ―tribe‖: "Sputnik came to be a lucky star to millions…. Sputnik…sped the
transformation of the aircraft industry into something called 'aerospace.' Sputnik did this
by rewriting the rules of the Cold War…and when it did, the new rules favored my people,
our future."219 Shortly after the launch of Sputnik I, Beers‘s father took a job with
Lockheed in Southern California.220
The elder Beers had been particularly inspired by von Braun and his colleagues‘
space travel visions of the 1940s and 1950s. He first read Willy Ley‘s popular book The
Conquest of Space in 1949, at the age of sixteen, and it had made him ―ache for that
future.‖221 Beers also relates how the Collier‘s series and von Braun‘s television shows
had helped guide many in the blue sky tribe toward careers in aerospace engineering. 222
For Beers and his father, von Braun was ―a man who not only embraced our star, our
story, but wrote the story for us over and over again…in whatever way made our version
of the future seem inevitable.‖223 As Beers saw it, von Braun was a ―re-imaginer of
218
Ibid., 17.
219
Ibid., 18.
220
Ibid., 17. Interestingly, Beers notes about his father: ―You should know...that my father's life
as an organization man perfectly traced the arc of the Cold War aerospace industry. And that (much like
America itself) he became more and more dubious about the deal he had made….‖ For more on this idea,
see page 14.
221
Beers, Blue Sky Dream, 26.
222
Ibid., 25.
223
Ibid., 22.
82
America‘s middle class.‖224 Von Braun had reconceived ―aerospace [as] the work of a
worthy new middle class, not an elite so much as a host of scientific-technologicalmilitary-industrial-complex families living lives of modern purpose. He saw my family
joined to some bigger design." 225 For Beers,
Taken together, all of the teachings of Wernher von
Braun…offered his blue sky tribe, people like my family, an
approach to life. Taking his example, we have found it
possible to hold many profoundly contradictory notions in
our minds as long as a sensation of forward momentum
could be felt in our lives. A space rocket to preserve us, a
space rocket to change everything...Wernher von Braun
gave his tribe any number of ways to explain to ourselves
why we naturally deserved the fruits of an economy
commanded from above, our new lives of aerospace
suburban gentility.226
Summing up the profound effect that von Braun and his contemporaries had on stirring
people to enter the aerospace industry and build spacecraft, Beers opines
My tribe, certainly, assumed Apollo's success would secure
our dominance. Having been placed in charge of the future,
we had delivered as promised a man on the moon on
television. As scripted by our tribe's father, Wernher von
Braun, the moon shot was to be but a way station on the
path to Mars, a warm-up for the building and launching of a
'flotilla' of manned spaceships to the red planet. 227
David Beers‘s experience demonstrates how powerfully many aerospace industry
engineers had embraced von Braun‘s vision of space exploration, convinced they could
224
Ibid., 32.
225
Ibid., 27.
226
Ibid., 34.
227
Ibid., 132.
83
look forward to a career‘s worth of work on space‘s endless frontier.
Indeed, many NASA engineers also described themselves as coming of age
learning about the possibilities of space flight from von Braun, Willy Ley, and other space
boosters. George Sieger, for example, who would become a NASA operational engineer
at Cape Canaveral during the early 1960s, had first applied to the space agency because of
an advertisement for the Mercury Program that he saw in Aviation Week entitled ―the
First American ‗Man in Space.‘‖ 228 But Sieger‘s real motivation for joining NASA came
from having read the works of von Braun and Ley and becoming enamored of them while
growing up. During his senior year in high school, he used ideas from their stories to write
a term paper titled ―On Going to the Moon.‖229 Similarly, Hank Martin, who would go on
to work on satellites for NASA at the Goddard Space Flight Center, remembered that
seeing the 1950 movie Destination Moon, a film that featured a rocket like von Braun‘s
V-2 landing on the lunar surface, was a seminal moment in his desire to pursue a career in
aerospace. As he remembered, after watching the film for the first time, he remained in his
seat and sat through it again, and from that moment, he was hooked; he had to go into
space flight.230
The federal government capitalized on the imaginative power of von Braun‘s
vision after the Sputnik challenge. Space historian Sylvia Doughty Fries, interviewed both
Sieger and Martin, as well as about fifty other NASA engineers from the Apollo era. On
228
Fries, NASA Engineers and the Age of Apollo, 36.
229
Ibid., 34.
230
Ibid., 47-49.
84
the effect of the Sputnik Revolution on this generation of professionals, Fries has
observed, ―No engine designed or built to launch men to the Moon was as powerful as the
engine of the U.S. government itself.‖231 The federal government and its programs helped
foster the education and development of aerospace engineers and ―generated in this
country one of the great social and occupational changes in the twentieth century.‖ 232 In
short, those occupational changes were accompanied by a sense that the U.S. would be
exploring the endless frontier of space for decades to come, if not longer.
The aerospace industry itself also helped further the von Braun vision of space
exploration well into the 1960s, and Grumman was in the forefront of the proselytizers;
their advertisements helped bolster the idea of endless work on the limitless frontier. The
September 1963 issue of Astronautics & Aerospace Engineering, for example, featured a
Grumman advertisement with two drawings of a space station and one schematic of it.
The ad asked: ―What form will the nation‘s first earth orbiting space station take?‖ The ad
promised that ―experienced Grumman design and development engineers continue to
investigate all types of space station concepts.‖ It closed by noting that ―whatever the final
design may be, the mechanical and human problems involved are enormous, demanding
unique capabilities for integrating the most complex components.‖233 Essentially, for
engineers who wanted to work on von Braun‘s space station, Grumman was the place. At
the bottom of this ad was a notice that referred readers to a second Grumman
231
Ibid., 54.
232
Ibid.
233
―What Form will the Nation‘s First Earth Orbiting Space Station Take?, Grumman
Advertisement, Astronautics & Aerospace Engineering (September 1963).
85
announcement later in the journal. The second listing, entitled ―The People of Grumman,‖
stressed that the company was growing and was extremely stable. The ad noted that over
63% of its employees had worked for the company for more than five years, and 45% had
worked there at least ten years or more. 234 It also boasted that the firm‘s annual turnover
rate was ―less than one-quarter that of the rest of the industry.‖235 In closing, it suggested,
―if a growth spot and Grumman‘s record of stability appeals to your instincts, you are
cordially urged to consider the following positions.‖236
Eighteen months later, another Grumman trade journal advertisement married the
idea of stability and the von Braun vision of long-term space industry work. The March
15, 1965 ad in Aviation Week & Space Technology featured a one-quarter page drawing
of the Lunar Excursion Module (LEM) and was entitled simply ―Stability at
Grumman.‖237 It emphasized that ―Stability at Grumman is not an abstract. It‘s a way of
life.‖238 In 1965, the ad related, Grumman‘s employee retention rate broke records; 55%
had been with the company for more than five years, 37% for more than ten years, and
19% over fifteen years. 239 The notice went on to tout some of Grumman‘s major
234
―The People of Grumman,‖ Grumman Advertisement, Astronautics & Aeronautics
Engineering, (October 1963): 59.
235
Ibid.
236
Ibid.
237
―Stability at Grumman,‖ Grumman Advertisement, Aviation Week & Space Technology, 15
March 1965, 297, ―LM Production,‖ Vertical Files, CAM.
238
Ibid.
239
Ibid.
86
accomplishments and then asked, ―Where will it end? Maybe on Mars somewhere.
Professional verve with ‗built-in‘ stability. That‘s the word at Grumman. Investigate
challenging opportunities in the following areas....‖240
In the summer of 1965, Grumman ran yet another advertisement that continued to
press von Braun‘s long-term vision of space flight forward. The two-page ad in the July
issue of Air Force Magazine depicted an astronaut floating in space from multiple angles
and insisted ―Grumman‘s plans for outer space are down to earth.‖241 The notice stressed
that the company felt ―at home in space…. So much so, that we‘ve spent $20 million on
space facilities.‖242 The ad went on to reveal that the company had big plans for
aerospace, but, it noted, ―they‘re also realistic. Even now, Grumman is adapting the LEM
vehicle to the following missions: Earth orbiting space station for a variety of experiments;
Lunar orbiting space station for gathering scientific data; Lunar taxi to support extended
stays on the moon; Lunar shelter for astronauts; Cargo vehicle for a variety of payloads.
And we‘re not done yet. These programs are tied in with our nation‘s post-Apollo
objectives.‖ 243
A November 1965 Grumman advertisement seemed to have all of the company‘s
space missions mapped out for the next decade, if not longer. The two-page ad entitled
―Grumman‘s Across-the-Board Space Capabilities: 1965-1975,‖ featured a large photo of
240
Ibid.
241
―Grumman‘s Plans for Outer Space are Down to Earth,‖ Grumman Advertisement, Air Force
Magazine, July 1965.
242
Ibid.
243
Ibid.
87
a LM and an orbital path diagram.244 The copy stressed the company‘s ―present LEM
work‖ and stated that ―many logical extensions of the LEM programs‖ would be used in
future missions to help facilitate trips to lunar bases and to act as ―planet launch
platforms,‖ among other missions which might include ―Mars Missions‖ and ―Orbital
Space Stations.‖245 The possibility of using space stations for ―interplanetary staging
bases has long captured the imagination of space scientists and engineers,‖ the ad noted.
―The ultimate mechanics of such strategic bases are undergoing prolonged and careful
scrutiny at Grumman.‖246 And one year later, a November 1966 Grumman trade journal ad
entitled ―One of These LMs will Blast Off,‖ showed engineers hard at work on one of the
LMs in the company‘s ―Clean Room‖; this ad insisted, ―Grumman holds the aces needed
for Post-Apollo programs.‖247 In essence, many of Grumman‘s space ads of the 1960s
combined Wernher von Braun and his colleagues‘ vision of space exploration with the idea
of long-term, stable employment. For the new generation of aerospace engineers who
joined Grumman during that period, it must have seemed that they had many solid years of
employment ahead of them as the U.S. planned to push deeper into the frontier of space.
Grumman engineers were not the only professionals joining the industry in the
mid-to-late 1960s with the thought that they had many years of employment ahead of
244
―Grumman‘s Across-the-Board Space Capabilities: 1965-1975,‖ Grumman Advertisement,
November 1965, ―LM Design,‖ Vertical Files,‖ CAM.
245
Ibid.
246
Ibid.
247
―One of These LMs will Blast Off,‖ Grumman Advertisement, November 1966, ―LM Design,‖
Vertical Files, CAM.
88
them; NASA engineer Ronald Siemens is one example. Born in 1949, Siemans began
working for NASA in 1967 at the Johnson Space Center in Houston as part of a workstudy program. He was helping with ―trade studies‖ about the possibilities of a manned
space station.248 At that time, ―there were still teams looking at Moon bases and Mars
missions and space station[s],‖ as he recalled.249 Because of his work record at the space
agency, Siemans planned a lifelong career in aerospace. Remembering the 1970s, he
caustically noted, however, ―if you don‘t get it in writing, you‘d better not believe the
government because they really put it to us.‖250 Siemens recalled that in 1971 ―the RIFs
[reductions in force] were occurring, and the promise of a guaranteed job didn‘t hold up
that year.‖251 Fortunately for him, he was able to go back to work at Johnson the
following year, after obtaining a Master‘s Degree in chemical engineering at Rice
University. 252 Siemens‘s experience demonstrates that even as late as 1967, after the peak
of Apollo employment had already passed, engineers were still entering the aerospace
workforce believing they were going to have ―guaranteed job[s],‖ because of the promise
of Moon bases, Mars missions, and an orbiting space station.
Although NASA had continued to plan well into the 1960s for a space station, a
space shuttle, and even a mission to Mars, by the early 1970s, the von Braun vision, which
248
Fries, NASA Engineers and the Age of Apollo, 52-53.
249
Ibid., 52-53 and 111. Frank Toscelli, a NASA engineer at Goddard, was also working on
design parameters for the Space Shuttle and the Space Station in the mid-1960s. See page 95 of Fries‘s
work for more details.
250
Fries, NASA Engineers and the Age of Apollo, 53.
251
Ibid.
252
Ibid.
89
had shaped so many aerospace engineers‘ ideas about what it would be like to work in the
industry, had been suddenly eviscerated. Richard Williams, a NASA employee who would
train flight crews, perhaps best summed up the irony of joining the Apollo Program only to
realize that it would mark the end of many aerospace workers‘ careers. Even though
Apollo 11 should have been the high point for NASA employees, Williams remembers it
as ―one of the lowest points in my career…. We had all been so hyped on this thing of
going to the Moon. And then, to all of a sudden wake up one day with the realization of
‗there‘s no more‘….Why didn‘t we plan for something further on? ... I was just
devastated.‖ 253 By the end of the Apollo era in 1972, the Space Shuttle was the only
viable part of that vision that survived in the economic downturn of that period. 254 All of
von Braun‘s other major ideas for manned spaceflight were put on hold, some indefinitely.
And while the vision of a space station would begin to take shape in 1998, that program
began development too late to save the jobs of many who had joined the industry in the
1960s.
Still, the important point remains that Wernher von Braun and his colleagues had
created a distinct vision in the 1950s about the future of space travel and exploration, an
image that many aerospace engineers absorbed. That vision prompted many of them to
join the aerospace industry in the wake of the first Sputnik launch. And when they started
with the industry, they believed they would have decades of work ahead of them. In a
253
254
Ibid., 116.
For more on the indefinite dismantling of the von Braun‘s vision, see ―Chapter Eighteen: For
Him, a World Was Falling Apart,‖ in Neufeld, Von Braun, 434-457.
90
sense, it appeared as if there was endless work to be done on the endless frontier of space.
Conclusion
Beginning in the 1930s, Grumman developed a very unique culture that forged a
distinct bond among Grummanites. The company felt like a family. Jake Swirbul, one of
the firm‘s founders, had been the main architect of this paternalistic culture. He had been
the vital component that had helped connect Grummanites throughout the company.
Swirbul had rejected a strict, hierarchical, management system, and instead fostered a very
friendly and loose organizational culture. Despite such an unorthodox approach,
Grumman still developed into a highly effective and professional company that turned out
arguably the best military aircraft of World War II. The firm‘s corporate culture thrived
when Grumman worked with the Navy throughout the war and well into the 1950s; the
two organizations had forged a relationship that created a stronger Grumman in the
postwar period. By the time the Russians launched Sputnik 1 in October 1957, however,
company officials knew that Grumman needed to venture into space-related work if it was
going to continue to prosper.
Grumman entered the Space Age as an aircraft company that was ill-prepared for
the new era, compared to the more forward-thinking aerospace companies that had
already anticipated the transition to a new American political economy. The company‘s
traditional leadership made Grumman late to the game. But it made-up ground quickly by
securing the contract for the OAOs, as well as one of the most coveted jobs of the time,
the design and construction of the Apollo Lunar Modules. When Grumman began working
with NASA on these programs, the space agency pressed the company to change its
91
organizational structure and approach to assure that these programs met NASA‘s cost
projections and schedules. Grumman‘s interaction with NASA, unlike its relationship with
the Navy, caused a serious culture clash. NASA‘s insistence that Grumman change its
organizational structure and approach to accommodate the space agency disrupted the
company‘s operations and unsettled employees. Many of these changes were indeed
necessary if the U.S. was going to make it to the Moon before 1970. The Space Race had
enlarged the aerospace industry, but it did little to motivate or inspire Grummanites,
despite the fact that they were working on the Apollo Lunar Module, the vehicle that
would ultimately determine if the nation met JFK‘s lunar landing goal. Grummanites
worked countless hours on the LMs because they were dedicated to their company, above
all else. For them, the importance of the job was based on ―Grumman Pride,‖ not racing
the Russians to the Moon.
For the generation of aerospace engineers who grew up in postwar America,
Grumman must have seemed like an ideal place to work, especially for those interested in
space exploration. The company appeared to be on the cutting-edge of space technology
for those engineers acculturated in visions of space travel propounded by Wernher von
Braun and his colleagues. The firm was not only building the LMs and OAOs, but it also
had distinct plans for the post-Apollo era, as its advertisements clearly promised. If an
engineer wanted to help build the supposed upcoming space station, or help plan future
Mars missions, Grumman seemed like a great place to work. And to make matters even
more enticing, Grumman was a highly stable company compared to other aerospace firms.
Many employees had multiple years of service under their belts. It seemed obvious that
once you started working for Grumman, you could expect to be working for a long time.
92
In short, for those who joined Grumman at the dawn of the Space Age, it appeared that
they would be working for many years on space‘s boundless frontier. The Apollo Program
was merely the first step into the heavens. There would surely be many more to come in
the years ahead.
CHAPTER TWO
―DON‘T TELL US WE‘RE SUFFERING AND UNDERPAID AND
ILL-FED:‖ LABOR AND PATERNALISM AT GRUMMAN
From its beginnings in the early 1930s, until its acquisition in the 1990s, Grumman
remained one of only two major US aerospace companies that never unionized. Ironically,
Northrop, of El Segundo, California—the only other major non-union American aerospace
firm—would eventually take over Grumman in 1994.1 Although we must wait for a
serious historical study of Northrop and its labor relations to truly understand the way that
company dealt with its workers, preliminary investigations of the southern California firm
suggest that it successfully held unions off by giving workers strategic wage increases at
just the right moment, namely as labor began to close in on the company.2 Grumman, on
1
For evidence that reveals that Grumman and Northrop remained the only two non-union
companies, see and compare, ―Notes from Phone Interview with Justin Ostro, Former Business Manager
of Republic IAM Lodge 1987,‖ 28 November 2006; Report Prepared for the Major Collective Bargaining
Negotiations in the Aircraft Industry in 1960 (Edition Prepared for Grumman Workers) by the United
Auto Workers Research Department, circa 1960, pp. 2-3. Both found in UAW Region 9A Collection, Box
173, Folder 31, Archives of Labor and Urban Affairs, Wayne State University, Detroit, MI (hereinafter
cited as ALUA); and John Barnard, American Vanguard: The United Auto Workers During the Reuther
Years, 1935-1970 (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 2004), 309-310.
2
Only one author, Richard Sanders Allen, has written anything of significance on Northrop, and
that monograph does not address the company‘s labor relations. John Barnard, however, who has studied
the history of the United Auto Workers, has delved a bit into how the firm dealt with unions. Barnard
argues that Northrop had a habit of offering its employees wage increases within days of union votes.
During an National Labor Relations Board (NLRB) election at the company in the 1950s, which included
more than 1,000 employees, (note—Barnard does not give the specific date, but merely implies it took
place during that period), the workers turned the union away by just 62 votes right after the company had
announced a significant wage hike on the same day as the election. For more on this issue, see Barnard,
American Vanguard, 309-310. For Allen‘s book see Richard Sanders Allen, The Northrop Story, 19291939 (New York: Orion Books, 1990).
93
94
the other hand, overcame unions by relying more on its own particular culture of
paternalism.3 While one could easily look at this factor cynically and view it as the
behavioral modification tool of management, or an insincere corporate gesture at best, an
examination of the history of labor‘s attempts to unionize Grumman reveals a much
different picture. Most Bethpage managers appeared largely sincere in their efforts to
make their employees happy and their company one of the best places to work. These
managers‘ efforts created an intense sense of loyalty among Grummanites that seemed
unmatched in the aerospace field, notably, in an industry where unions thrived. At the
dawn of the Space Age in the late 1950s, with over 90% of all aircraft firms organized
(the aircraft industry was the nation‘s largest employer at the time), Grummanites‘
resistance to unions stood out, particularly in a country where approximately one out of
every four working-class Americans carried a union membership card.4
3
As noted in Chapter One, although Jake Swirbul matched neighboring unionized companies‘
pay raises, that was not the only reason Grummanites were anti-union. The firm‘s culture of paternalism,
as demonstrated in this chapter, played a major role in keeping employees from organizing.
4
The International Association of Machinists claimed that the aircraft industry had become the
nation‘s largest employer by the 1950s. For more on this subject, see Daily Coordination Summary of the
Joint IAM-UAW Coordinating Committee, by the IAM Regional Office, Los Angeles, CA, No. 17, 15
February 1956, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 13, Folder 12. On the percentage of aircraft
unions organized, see inserted letter by Charles Kerrigan, UAW Director of Region 9A, in Report
Prepared for the Major Collective Bargaining Negotiations in the Aircraft Industry in 1960 (Edition
Prepared for Grumman Workers) by the UAW Research Department, circa 1960, p. 3, UAW Region 9A
Collection, Box 173, Folder 31. On November 22, 1949, the UAW noted that the US Department of Labor
stated that one out of every four working Americans belonged to a union, or approximately 15,600,000
people, spread over some 197 unions. Notably, at least six of those organizations claimed more than
500,000 members each, while a few others stood closer to the million-member mark. The UAW cites the
Department of Labor‘s Directory of Labor Unions, (BLS Bulletin No. 937). For more on this issue, see
―One in Four Holds Union Card, Says BLS,‖ UAW-CIO Organizer, Republic Aircraft Workers edition,
Vol. 1, No. 2, 22 November 1949, p. 3, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24. All
found in ALUA.
95
This chapter investigates the history of Grumman‘s anti-unionism from the
company‘s birth in the 1930s through the post-Apollo era of the 1970s. It explores the
subject on several different levels. From a macro perspective, it sets Grummanites‘ antiunion sentiments within the context of the entire aerospace industry‘s labor movement. On
a more local basis, it examines how Grummanites, who lived and worked in a regional
hotbed of unionism, successfully kept organized labor away from their company, despite
the unionization of three of their closest neighbors—Brewster Aeronautical, CurtissWright, and Republic Aviation. The experiences that most of these companies‘ employees
had with unions would significantly influence the way Grummanites responded to
organized labor. Often, their stories served as cautionary tales against unionizing. While
exploring all of these issues, this chapter also develops these themes within the context of
the union battle for supremacy in the aerospace industry that raged between the United
Auto Workers (UAW) and the International Association of Machinists (IAM). Finally, and
most importantly, this section of the dissertation uncovers and helps dissects part of the
very unique culture of paternalism that Grumman developed. As this chapter will reveal,
Grummanites felt a deep sense of fealty to the company because of the relationship they
had established with their employer, and that loyalty, when combined with the anti-labor
feelings stimulated while watching the union experiences of workers at other firms,
engendered a virulent sense of anti-unionism at the Bethpage manufacturer.
96
Unions and the Aircraft Industry From
Its Origins to World War II
The first serious organizational drives in the aircraft industry—and by extension
the aerospace field—began in earnest the mid-1930s.5 Many labor organizers had chosen
to bypass such workers in the past because they believed that these employees lacked class
consciousness.6 During the initial growth of the aircraft industry, many aircraft workers
had risen in individualistic jobs that had required very special skills, and that specialization
commanded some solid financial rewards; in other words, individualism seemed to hold
more sway than worker solidarity.7 Nevertheless, by the mid-1930s, when the aircraft
industry shifted toward more mass production, several unions chose to try to break into
the sector. The UAW and the IAM became the main rivals vying for employees in the
5
Barnard, American Vanguard, 308; and John S. Olszowka, ―From Shop Floor to Flight: Work
and Labor in the Aircraft Industry, 1908-1945‖ (Ph.D. diss., State University of New York at
Binghamton, 2000), iv.
6
Labor leaders viewed aircraft employees in the 1920s and early 1930s, at best, as apathetic
toward organizing. During the early days of aviation, workers and bosses toiled together side-by-side to
make the industry take off and they developed a sense of kinship. They also subverted their individualistic
needs for the ―good‖ of the business. Hence, there was no real feel for class consciousness. For more on
this issue, see Olszowka, ―From Shop Floor to Flight‖, 3-4. On this subject, Olszowka cites Mark
Perlman, The Machinists: A New Study in American Trade Unionism (Cambridge: Harvard University
Press, 1961), 109-111; Nelson Lichtenstein, Labor‘s War At Home: The CIO in World War II (New York:
Cambridge University Press, 1982), 56, 73, 122, 139; Jacob Vander Meulen, The Politics of Aircraft and
Building an American Military Industry (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1991), 154.
7
John Olszowka, an aviation labor historian who writes about Curtiss-Wright, notes that the
firm‘s employees had brushed aside unions during the 1920s and 30s because of their devotion to an
―aircraftsman ideology.‖ A rather conservative and individualistic philosophy, ―aircraftsmanship‖ had
developed during the early days of flight when manufacturing a plane required skilled craftsman to hand
tool the airplanes and management and labor‘s advancement seemed interdependent. As Olszowka
explains, the ideology ―placed an emphasis on promoting the advancement of aviation‖ and ―remained
rooted firmly in the concept of mutual cooperation‖ particularly during the early decades of flight.
Workers gained personal satisfaction knowing that they contributed to the growth of the industry in a type
of pioneering manner and they received solid compensation for their efforts. As workers saw it, the whole
system gave them economic and occupational stability. See Olszowka, ―From Shop Floor to Flight‖, iv,
10-11, 394-407.
97
industry. The Auto Workers believed that they were the most logical organizing unit for
aircraft workers to join because they had historically dealt with employees who built
internal combustion engines, the driving force in airplanes. The Machinists, on the other
hand, felt that they should represent aircraft workers because of the skilled machining of
parts needed in the construction of airframes. 8
In June 1936, the IAM scored the first major victory when it organized Boeing in
Seattle.9 The following year, the Machinists added Lockheed, located in Burbank, CA, to
their ranks, and then they rounded out their numbers by also capturing Consolidated
Aircraft of San Diego, just prior to America‘s entry into World War II.10 Notably, IAM
Local 751 at Boeing would eventually become the nation‘s largest aircraft union of the
era, when its membership reached approximately 40,000 members at the height of the
war.11
8
Barnard, American Vanguard, 308.
9
John McCann, a historian of IAM Boeing Lodge 751, dates the agreement between the IAM
and Boeing as June 26, 1936. See John McCann, Blood in the Water: A History of District Lodge 751 of
the International Association of Machinists and Aerospace Workers (Seattle, District Lodge 751,
IAM&AW, 1989), 207.
10
Barnard, American Vanguard, 172-173. As IAM historian Robert Rodden notes, Lockheed
joined the IAM in March 1937, see Robert G. Rodden, The Fighting Machinists: A Century of Struggle
(Washington, DC: Kelly Press, Inc., 1984), 102. One of the best ways to gain an overview of the different
aircraft companies in existence at the time is to view the sophisticated ―Chronology of the Aircraft
Industry‖ in Donald M. Pattillo, Pushing the Envelope: The American Aircraft Industry, (Ann Arbor: The
University of Michigan Press, 1998), 373-382.
11
McCann, Blood in the Water, 84. Between 1939 and mid 1943, union membership at
Lockheed went from only 400 to more than 37,000, Rodden, The Fighting Machinists, 102.
While the Machinists were busy grabbing companies on the West Coast, the UAW signed
workers at several of the major aircraft firms in the East, including Bell Aircraft in Buffalo, Lycoming
Manufacturing in Williamsport, PA, and Brewster Aeronautical in Long Island City (Queens, NY). The
Auto Workers had also started some campaigns in southern California, securing Vultee Aircraft in
Downey and North American Aviation in Inglewood. Before the end of the war, they would also organize
Ryan Aeronautical in San Diego, Douglas Aircraft in Santa Monica, the Glen L. Martin Company in
98
To most aircraft workers, the UAW seemed the more powerful of the two unions,
at least up through the early years of World War II. IAM historian Robert Rodden has
suggested that when the Auto Workers began organizing on the West Coast in the 1930s
―it appeared that the UAW would become the predominant union in the new aircraft
industry. Their organizers came bursting out of Detroit and into the aircraft factories of
southern California like gangbusters. UAW campaigns were powered with enthusiasm and
emotion and featured songs, bands, marches, and sitdowns.‖12 In all, the Auto Workers
would bring their total number of union aircraft workers to more than 400,000 members
by the mid-1940s.13
During World War II, organized labor in all industries faced tremendous social and
political pressures on the home front to make limited demands; the war represented a
global emergency that called for cooperation in order to build up the arsenal of
Baltimore, and Chance-Vought in Central Connecticut. For more details, see and compare Barnard,
American Vanguard, 172-173. The UAW also won a NLRB election at Vultee in August 1940—at least
according to Lichtenstein, Labor‘s War At Home, 57; and Pattillo, Pushing the Envelope, 373-382
12
13
Rodden, The Fighting Machinists, 101.
Barnard, American Vanguard, 309. For the purposes of comparison, Robert Rodden, an
historian of the IAM, states that union membership in the US, from the time of the Wagner Act in 1935,
to December 1941, rose from 3.7 million to 10.4 million. See Rodden, The Fighting Machinists, 98.
One important and unique union-related aspect about the aircraft industry bears discussion. For
the two international unions, the aircraft industry differed from any other type of industries that the unions
had tried to organize—essentially most airplane manufacturers built only one main product, military
airplanes, and had only one customer, the U.S. Government. The federal government refused to tolerate
work stoppages that would delay their products for very long. The use of the strike as an bargaining
weapon was extremely limited. Consequently, while organizing the aircraft industry, the unions could not
rely on the use of strikes to achieve their demands in the same way it had in other industries. For more on
this issue, see Barnard, American Vanguard, 309-310. Historian Nelson Lichtenstein also notes that by
the late 1940s, approximately 80% of workers in basic industry had organized. See Lichtenstein, Labor‘s
War At Home, 233.
99
democracy.14 This call for stability ran counter to the labor turmoil of the 1930s, when
workers had secured a high degree of shop-floor autonomy by exerting their power
through strikes.15 During World War II, however, the CIO (the UAW‘s umbrella
organization), the most liberal faction of the labor movement, agreed to a temporary truce
so that the country could build the weapons needed to defeat fascism abroad. 16 The CIO
and the Roosevelt Administration, allies during the Great Depression, remained friends
during the war, and the CIO supported FDR‘s call for calm labor relations. Union officials
agreed to hold wages in check by letting the government‘s National War Labor Board
(NWLB) and National Defense Mediation Board (NDMB) mediate and set gradual salary
increases. They also agreed to suspend the right to strike for the entire war. 17
One of the most telling examples of how the CIO and federal government reached
a wartime accord emerged from the North American Aviation (NAA) strike of 1941.
Earlier that year, the IAM and UAW had finished a heated competition to organize the
southern California company with the Auto Workers taking the victory in April by a slim
margin. On April 16, the UAW began negotiating with NAA, but by June 5, when their
14
For an excellent discussion of the political pressures on labor to cooperate during the war and
support the Roosevelt coalition against Fascism, see Lichtenstein, Labor‘s War At Home, 5-6 and 26-43.
15
Ibid., 5-6.
16
Ibid., 6.
17
Ibid.,6; Rodden, The Fighting Machinists, 130-131; and Joong-Jae Lee, ―Defense Workers
Struggle for Patriotic Control: The Labor-Management-State Contests Over Defense Production at
Brewster, 1940-1944,‖ International Labor and Working Class History 66 (2004): 136-137. On the
creation of the War Labor Board, and its favorable view toward more of the boss‘s side of things, see
Rodden, The Fighting Machinists, 130-131.
100
demands went unmet, the Auto Workers went out on strike. 18 Henry and Dorothy Kraus,
two of the UAW‘s main Communist organizers on the West Coast, led the employees in
the walk-out, much to the discontent of the union‘s national leadership in Detroit.19 The
federal government—wanting to get the major defense contractor back in production as
soon as possible—sent the Army in to break up the strike. The plant quickly began
producing aircraft again shortly thereafter.20 UAW leaders in Detroit blamed the
organization‘s Communist faction for the setback and quickly ordered union-wide support
of FDR‘s call for labor peace. Although NAA workers received a wage increase as result
of the strike (thanks to the National Defense Mediation Board), labor had essentially lost
its bargaining power by agreeing not to strike during the conflict and by letting the federal
government set its wages.21 Labor historian Nelson Lichtenstein has described the strike‘s
broader implications: ―Deprived of the right to strike, and with several of the normal
functions of the union leadership now assumed by government agencies, many unionists
feared for the stability and integrity of their organizations.‖22
18
Lichtenstein, Labor‘s War At Home, 58-59.
19
Ibid., 59-60.
20
Ibid., 60-66.
21
Ibid. For a discussion of the strike, which deemphasizes the role of Communism, Lichtenstein
suggests looking at James R. Prickett, ―Communist Conspiracy or Wage Dispute?: The 1941 Strike at
North American Aviation,‖ Pacific Historical Review, 50 (1981), 215-33.
22
Lichtenstein, Labor‘s War At Home, 66. For more on the NAA strike, see and compare: Irving
Bernstein, Turbulent Years: A History of the American Worker, 1933-1941 (Boston: Houghton Mifflin
Company, 1969), 765; Prickett, "Communist Conspiracy or Wage Dispute?‖, 215-233; Lichtenstein,
Labor‘s War At Home, 58-66; John Barnard, Walter Reuther and the Rise of the Auto Workers (Boston:
Little, Brown and Company, 1983); and Steven Fraser, Labor Will Rule: Sidney Hillman and the Rise of
American Labor (New York: Free Press, 1991 ), 465-70.
101
Regardless of the unions‘ no-strike pledge, the rank and file in many industries
during World War II did not see eye-to-eye with their unions‘ national leadership, and
tensions increased within the labor movement. In 1942 workers in some of the heavy
industries started making demands and walked off their jobs. The following year a series
of wildcat strikes (unofficial union walkouts initiated spontaneously by the rank and file)
broke out in the rubber, shipbuilding, automotive, and coal mining industries. 23 Curiously,
of all of the heavy industries, aviation seemed more immune to walk-outs than some of the
other manufacturing sectors, despite having much lower wages on average. 24 But not all
aircraft workers obeyed the no-strike pledge.25 Workers in at a least one aircraft
company, in close proximity to Grumman, felt compelled to strike to try to save their jobs
and their company.
Brewster Aeronautical and the Hotbed of Unionism
Brewster Aeronautical, of Long Island City, NY (Queens), shared some important
distinctions with Grumman. Both companies became key Navy contractors, and the firms
resided within thirty miles of one another, right outside New York City.26 Despite these
23
24
On the issue of wages being lower for aircraft workers in comparison to some of the other
heavy industries, see Lichtenstein, Labor‘s War At Home, 115.
25
In 1943, IAM members at Boeing in Seattle, and Consolidated in San Diego, went out on
wildcat strikes when the National War Labor Board turned down across the board wage increases for
aircraft workers on the West Coast. The Boeing employees‘ demonstration, which occurred in January and
included more than 15,000 IAM members marching on city hall, became the largest worker
demonstration in Seattle history. For more details, see and compare, Lichtenstein, Labor‘s War At Home,
138-139; Rodden, The Fighting Machinists, 132-133; and McCann, Blood in the Water, 67-75.
26
Joshua Stoff, The Aerospace Heritage of Long Island (Interlaken, NY: Heart of the Lakes
Publications, 1989), 47. Interestingly, at one point, Brewster had also done some subcontracting work for
102
commonalities, however, the two companies‘ employees held markedly different views
about organized labor. While Grumman workers rejected unions, Brewster employees had
joined the ranks of the UAW as early as the 1930s; in fact, the company had been one of
the Auto Workers‘ first converts among aircraft workers. Nelson Lichtenstein has noted
that the employees of Brewster, UAW Local 365, had ―a reputation as the most
oppositional and politically sophisticated in the entire UAW, posing a constant irritation to
the international‘s top leadership.‖27 The story of Brewster‘s workers consequently reveals
the type of intense unionism that grew up among aircraft workers in the New York area
and that seemed to surround Grumman and its employees; in short, it demonstrates that
New York and the Northeast represented a hotbed of unionism.28
Brewster began manufacturing in 1932, and by 1938 had won a Navy ―Fly Off‖
contest with its F2A Buffalo Fighter against one of Grumman‘s early versions of the F4F
Wildcat. The resulting contract between Brewster and the Navy made the Buffalo the
primary fighter of the seafaring service at the time. 29 By the end of World War II,
however, the company had only built approximately 550 fighters, and not without
Grumman. See Joong-Jae Lee, ―We Went to Washington to Raise a Little Hell: Wartime Alternative
Unionism of Local 365 of the UAW-CIO and the State, 1939-1945‖ (Ph.D. diss., New York University,
2000), 55.
27
28
Notably, as at least one aviation historian has noted, Brewster was also racially progressive
because it became ―the first U.S. aircraft manufacturer to hire large numbers of black employees for
production, a move which was unpopular in 1940.‖ See Stoff, The Aerospace Heritage of Long Island, 47.
29
Ibid., 95.
103
encountering some serious problems that had major repercussions for the firm, its
employees, the federal government, and the wartime effort.30
Shortly after signing the Buffalo contract, Brewster began facing serious
production problems. Almost as soon as the Buffalo went into production, the Navy
started redesigning the aircraft with wartime improvements causing major setbacks in their
delivery. The Navy, in desperate need of its aircraft in the time of war, tried to force the
company to improve its rate of production. In April 1942 it essentially seized control of
Brewster‘s manufacturing.31 Then in November 1943, with Buffalos still coming off the
line too slowly, the Navy started to look for ways to have Brewster construct other
contractors‘ planes—particularly Chance-Vought‘s F3A ―Battler,‖ a version of the highly
praised ―Corsair.‖ At the Navy‘s behest, Brewster suddenly became a full-time
subcontractor of the F3A.32 Adding to the firm‘s challenges, the Navy pushed Brewster to
overhaul its top management on more than six occasions in less than two years. By 1944,
Brewster‘s future looked extremely grim. Many Americans viewed it as the worst
producing war plant in the nation, thanks to seemingly constant newspaper reports. Many
in the federal government, as well as and the company‘s top management, placed the
blame for production setbacks on UAW Local 365.
UAW Local 365 had negotiated a favorable contract for its members, one which
forbade the company from ―firing, shifting or disciplining workers without union
30
Ibid., 47.
31
Lee, ―Defense Workers Struggle for Patriotic Control,‖ 143.
32
Ibid., 146.
104
permission.‖33 At a time when Brewster was trying to improve production and return the
firm to profitability, the contract impeded management‘s ability to make quick changes in
the workforce to increase efficiency and reduce payroll. Some company officials referred
to the agreement as nothing short of ―hellish.‖34 Union leader Tom DeLorenzo, a man
who refused to accept the wartime ―no-strike‖ pledge, held very strong beliefs about the
power of labor, which made it even harder for Brewster‘s management to improve its
relationship with its workers. In an interview with the Washington Post, DeLorenzo
declared that ―the policy of our local union is to win the war without sacrificing too many
of the rights which we have at the present time.‖35 He went on to state ―if I had brothers at
the front who needed the 10 or 12 planes [that] were sacrificed [during a strike], I‘d let
them die, if necessary, to preserve our way of life or rights.‖ 36
Even though Brewster managers felt straitjacketed by their relationship with their
workers, they also faced equal pressure from the Navy; in effect, they found themselves
trapped between the two sides and unable to find a way out of the situation. The Navy‘s
constant redesign of the Buffalo caused problems with retooling. Sometimes the company
did not even have complete plans and drawings for the aircraft.37 As Joong-Jae Lee, a
historian of Brewster notes, these problems affected the pace at which employees could
33
―Haunted House,‖ Time, 18 October 1943.
34
―A Prayer for Henry,‖ Time, 1 November 1943.
35
Historian Joong-Jae Lee quotes the Washington Post interview in his dissertation. See Lee,
―We Went to Washington to Raise a Little Hell,‖ 8.
36
Ibid.
37
―A Prayer for Henry,‖ Time, 1 November 1943.
105
work. Some had to wait while new production systems emerged, while others faced
temporary layoffs and wage cuts.38 At certain points, the firm‘s foremen even tried to
solve these challenges by retooling particular pieces required in the redesign of the planes.
39
Nevertheless, despite the employees‘ attempts to offer logical solutions to the
company‘s problems, military and civilian bureaucrats rejected their efforts.
The workers responded with what Lee calls an attempt to seize ―Patriotic Control‖
of Brewster. Although the company had returned to profitability in 1944, after more than
two years of serious losses, the workers continued to face major layoffs, sometimes
numbering in the thousands.40 In an effort to counter the situation, employees began a
letter-writing campaign to Congress; they wanted an investigation of the military and
company‘s poor planning and mismanagement of the Buffalo‘s production.41 Lee argues
that they hoped that their missives would improve the situation for everyone involved—
the company, the military, the government, the employees, and the war effort—but more
importantly, they believed their job security depended on a Congressional investigation.42
Ultimately an inquiry did take place, and some of the workers went to Washington to
38
Lee, ―Defense Workers Struggle for Patriotic Control,‖ 138.
39
Ibid., 140.
40
More than 10,000 workers received layoffs in May, ―End for Brewster,‖ Time, 29 May 1944.
At one point in early June, more than 8,500 employees reported to work to only discover that 4,000 of
them still had jobs at the end of the day, ―The First Cutback Crisis,‖ Time, 12 June 1944.
41
Lee, ―Defense Workers Struggle for Patriotic Control,‖ 138-139.
42
Ibid., 138
106
testify and ―Raise a Little Hell,‖ but it did little to help.43 By late spring of 1944, with
more layoffs occurring, thousands of employees decided to violate the ―no-strike‖ pledge
and stage a sit-in to draw more attention to their plight. Although the strike received
national press coverage, the workers‘ actions made little difference by that point.44 For the
Navy and the federal government, regardless of who had caused the debacle at Brewster,
the time had come to cut their ties to the firm; the Pentagon announced plans to end all
contracts with Brewster by July 1. The firm would fold shortly after the end of the war.
Despite the complicated factors leading to the company‘s downfall, the actions of
Local 365 undoubtedly influenced some Grummanites‘ views of the role of organized
labor. At a time when Grumman was setting some of the most significant production
records of any wartime manufacturer, Brewster faced crippling setbacks.45 While scholars
will continue to debate who caused the problems at the firm, the point remains that for
some Grummanites, the lesson appeared to be that Brewster‘s employees, who had built
one of the strongest unions in the industry, could not save their jobs despite their bold
actions and UAW backing. Brewster‘s story also points to the highly charged environment
43
Tom DeLorenzo, the leader of Brewster‘s union, stated that they ―went to Washington to raise
a little hell. Historian Joong-Jae Lee quotes him in Lee, ―We Went to Washington to Raise a Little Hell,‖
3 and 144.
44
Joong-Jae Lee has found that Brewster‘s employees, unlike most wildcat strikers, wanted to
honor their no-strike pledge, particularly during their letter writing campaign to Congress, but when their
voices went unheard, they decided to stage a sit-in. For more on this point and the strike in general, see
Lee, ―Defense Workers Struggle for Patriotic Control,‖ 143-150. For a slightly different view, see
Lichtenstein, Labor‘s War At Home, 204-205. Also see Lee, ―We Went to Washington to Raise a Little
Hell,‖ 9.
45
By the end of the war, Grumman had produced 17,013 aircraft. As aviation historian Josh Stoff
notes: ―At one point in 1945, Grumman was turning out more than one plane an hour, 664 in one month,
an aircraft production record which has never been equaled.‖ For more details, see Stoff, The Aerospace
Heritage of Long Island, 56.
107
of unionism that seemed to surround Grumman, as well as abound in New York state and
the northeast region.
Curtiss-Wright—The IAM Gains an Edge
in the Aircraft Industry
At approximately the same time that Brewster‘s workers fought to try to save their
jobs, employees at Curtiss-Wright, another New York aircraft manufacturer, wrestled with
the question of whether they would join the UAW or the IAM. Located in Buffalo, NY,
Curtiss-Wright, one of the oldest and largest aeronautical companies in the business, had
been around since the dawn of flight.46 For some labor organizers, the firm represented the
―Ford‖ of the aviation industry, a very prestigious and coveted prize.47 Although CurtissWright workers had eschewed unions during the company‘s early days, by the late 1930s
they began to see an advantage to organizing, particularly as the firm completed its
conversion to the mass production of metal aircraft.
The unionization of Curtiss-Wright represented a sea change in the battle between
the UAW and the IAM for the hearts and minds of aircraft workers. 48 While the
Machinists had fallen far behind the Auto Workers in total membership by the end of the
1930s, their successful campaign at Curtiss-Wright in 1942 quickly reversed that trend by
starting to entice more aeronautical workers over to their side. Curtiss-Wright‘s workers‘
acceptance of a union would leave only two major aircraft firms—Grumman and
46
Olszowka, ―From Shop Floor to Flight,‖ 11-12.
47
For the Ford quote, see Lichtenstein, Labor‘s War At Home, 102.
48
108
Republic—unorganized in New York and the Northeast by the start of the Cold War.
Many Grumman and Republic employees formed their preliminary impressions about
organized labor while watching the struggle that occurred between the Auto Workers and
the Machinists over Curtiss-Wright.
The American Federation of Labor‘s (an affiliate of the Machinists) initial
organizing attempts at Curtiss-Wright in the 1920s and early 1930s had failed to inspire
many workers because the Federation had remained steadfast to its traditional guiding
principle of ―pure and simple‖ craft unionism. In other words, instead of viewing aircraft
workers as a whole bargaining unit, the Federation wanted to split the workers up into
smaller craft-oriented units and organize these on an individual basis.49 During the
company‘s early years, when employees internalized what aviation historian John
Olszowka calls an ―aircraftsman ideology‖—a type of philosophy that ―placed an emphasis
on promoting the advancement of aviation‖ and that ―remained rooted firmly in the
concept of mutual cooperation‖—the AFL‘s approach did not appeal to them.50
The Depression, however, started to erode the feeling of mutuality that workers
had with their employers. Aviation workers, particularly those at Curtiss-Wright, quickly
discovered that economic and occupational security had its limits, especially during
periods of financial upheaval and major technological change. In the late 1930s, when
aeronautical companies completed the shift to the mass production of metal aircraft, the
need for the highly skilled craftsman of the early years of aviation—the men who had built
49
Ibid., 9 and 392.
50
Ibid., 10.
109
planes with their hands—fell by the wayside. Olszowka reveals that many Curtiss-Wright
workers began ―to realize the necessity of relying on outside agencies and collective action
to ensure that employers met the obligations of the ideology [of aircraftsmanship].‖51 At
the beginning of World War II, Curtiss-Wright‘s employees seemed poised to adopt a
union, but which one?
By the 1940s, the UAW and the IAM had developed very distinct agendas and
methods to try to attract workers. The Auto Workers, the more progressive of the two
organizations, tended to stress the collective and cooperative nature of unionization, as
well as the need for patriotic sacrifice during the war. The UAW supported President
Roosevelt‘s no-strike pledge and seemed satisfied to let the federal government determine
wage increases via the National War Labor Board (NWLB) and National Defense
Mediation Board (NDMB). The Machinists, on the other hand, while also showing
patriotic support of the war and the no-strike pledge, refused to simply let the NWLB and
NDMB have free rein when it came to establishing pay increases.
During the organizational drives at Curtiss-Wright, the Auto Workers made the
fatal mistake of suggesting that workers should accept minimal pay raises in support of the
war. The union‘s agenda for defining wage structures seemed vague and out of touch to
the workers.52 As Olszowka notes, even though the UAW might have ―equated sacrifice
of premium pay with patriotism,‖ the employees viewed it ―as a needless, if not, arrogant
51
Ibid., 394-395
52
On the issue of the abstract nature of the UAW‘s wage goals, see ibid., 397-399 and 403.
110
concession‖ on the part of union leaders.53 The Machinists, conversely, stood firm on the
issue and put forth very clear and concise monetary goals for workers‘ pay.54 The IAM
insisted it ―would not willingly relinquish premium pay or sacrifice the economic status of
its members.‖55 The IAM ultimately won the union election because, as Olszowka
concludes, it understood that ―economic individualism… remained at the core of the
wartime work experience. Patriotism and wartime cooperation, to be certain, drew many
people into the aircraft factories. Still, workers looked at the opportunities the war
presented primarily as a means for achieving economic self-improvement.‖56
In sum, with the unionization of Curtiss-Wright, the IAM gained significant
momentum over the UAW in the wartime battle to organize aircraft workers. 57 Although
the UAW had been the largest union in the industry up through the 1930s, after the
campaign in Buffalo the Auto Workers would have to struggle to try to keep up with the
IAM‘s appeal to plane-makers. In succeeding years the Auto Workers would find
themselves locked in fierce battles with the Machinists to try to capture any remaining
unorganized aircraft companies, particularly the two remaining majors in the Northeast—
Grumman and Republic. But sadly for the Auto Workers, as the history of these
53
Ibid., 399.
54
Ibid., 397 and 403.
55
Ibid., 403.
56
Ibid., 409. Notably, Nelson Lichtenstein has a brief, but interesting, discussion of the CurtissWright campaigns in Lichtenstein, Labor‘s War At Home, 103.
57
111
campaigns would reveal, the UAW would never quite regain its edge because it failed to
learn from some of its mistakes in the Curtiss-Wright election.
Unions and the Aircraft Industry During
the Immediate Postwar Period
Immediately after the war, the aircraft industry went through a massive downsizing
because of the significant decrease in warplane production. Within a few years, however,
thanks to the continued need for military aircraft during the emerging Cold War and the
massive growth of the commercial aviation market, the aircraft industry began a significant
postwar expansion that created numerous jobs. Both the UAW and IAM attempted to
capitalize on this opportunity and continued to compete with one another for membership.
The Auto Workers grabbed Fairchild, Sikorsky, and AVCO, while the Machinists
captured several Douglas plants in southern California.58 The constant competition
between the two rivals had its consequences, however. They expended a great deal of
time and energy throughout the late 1940s in trying to raid each other‘s membership, with
little gain. Consequently, on September 9, 1949, the two unions decided to sign a ―noraid‖ agreement.59
Although the term ―no-raid‖ might seem self-explanatory, the pact had some subtle
aspects. At its core, the accord essential prohibited the two organizations from interfering
with, or stealing, workers with whom the other union had already established a contractual
58
59
Agreement Between UAW-CIO and International Association of Machinists,‖ signed by A.J.
Hayes, et al, IAM, and Walter Reuther, et al, UAW, September 9, 1949, UAW Aerospace Department
Collection, Box 14, Folder 25, ALUA. Also see Barnard, American Vanguard, 309.
112
agreement. It did not, however, prohibit a healthy competition vying for the allegiance of
workers at still unorganized plants; the accord only required that the rivals not denigrate
each other in the process of trying to sign up employees. After all, the two unions wanted
to maintain the image of a healthy and cooperative labor movement in general; in other
words, they wanted to conduct themselves in a manner that would help build up trade
union loyalty.60 Still, despite this general pact, the no-raid agreement did not keep the
UAW and IAM from competing intensely for the affections of the workers at the
remaining non-union firms in the aeronautical industry. Although perceived violations
threatened the agreement several times in the 1950s, the accord, in one form or another,
remained in effect into the 1970s, particularly within the aircraft industry.61
The Taft-Hartley Act, also passed in the immediate postwar period, had a major
impact on the way companies dealt with organized labor. After the war, the no-strike
pledge ended. In 1946, numerous strikes broke out nationwide, and big business pushed
for federal legislation that would help check labor‘s momentum, if not roll back some of
60
―Agreement Between UAW-CIO and International Association of Machinists,‖ signed by A.J.
Hayes, et al, IAM, and Walter Reuther, et al, UAW, September 9, 1949, UAW Aerospace Department
Collection, Box 14, Folder 25, ALUA. Also see Barnard, American Vanguard, 309.
61
On the issues of troubles with the agreement in the 1950s, and revisions of the agreement, see
and compare, Letter, A. J. Hayes, IAM to Walter Reuter UAW-CIO, 15 May 1952, UAW Aerospace
Department Collection, Box 14, Folder 25; Letter, Walter P. Reuther, UAW, to All International Officers,
Executive Board Members, Department Heads and Staff Members, ―Subject: No-Raiding Agreement
between the UAW-CIO and the International Association of Machinists,‖ 18 June 1952, UAW Aerospace
Department Collection, Box 14, Folder 25; ―UAW, Machinists Widen Agreement,‖ New York Times, 12
June 1953, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 14, Folder 25; ―Labor Unity,‖ Wall Street
Journal, 14 September 1953, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 14, Folder 28; and
Agreement—International Association of Machinists and Aerospace Workers, AFL-CIO and International
Union of Automobile, Aerospace, and Agricultural Implement Workers of America, signed by Leonard
Woodcock, et al, UAW and Floyd E. Smith, et al, IAM, 12 March 1971, UAW Aerospace Department
Collection, Box 51, Folder 27. All found in ALUA.
113
its gains. Within a year, a new Republican majority in Congress pushed through the TaftHartley Act, which placed a number of restrictions on unions. One aspect of the law
required unions to ―authorize‖ and advertise strikes well in advance, or else face major
legal penalties. It also imposed severe restrictions on unions that walked out on industries
vital to national defense, particularly during national emergencies; federal arbitration
became the norm in such situations. Sympathetic boycotts in support of affiliated unions
also became illegal. Taft-Hartley also gave employers the right to actively speak out
against unions, which essentially meant that they could exercise their free speech to
skewer worker organizations, something unheard of during labor‘s high tide during the
New Deal.62 With the Taft-Hartley Act in place, employers suddenly had a new arsenal of
weapons to use in their conflict with unions. Republic Aviation‘s management would take
advantage of the situation on more than one occasion.
The Unionization of Republic and
Its Effects on Grummanites
One of the most important factors influencing the way Grummanites‘ viewed
organized labor centered around the UAW‘s and IAM‘s attempts to unionize Republic
Aviation—Long Island‘s other major aircraft manufacturer. Based in Farmingdale,
Republic Aviation and its main plants stood only nine miles from Grumman‘s primary
Bethpage facilities.63 With both companies residing in such close proximity, employees
62
The Taft-Hartley Act became law in June 1947. For more on the subject, see and compare
Lichtenstein, Labor‘s War At Home, 7 and 238-242; and Rodden, The Fighting Machinists, 148-151.
63
Although Republic‘s main office was located in Wilmington, Delaware, its main plant was
located in Farmingdale, New York, in the Babylon Township of Suffolk County on Long Island, ―In the
Matter of Republic Aviation Corporation and International Union United Automobile, Aircraft and
114
from both firms made their homes in the same neighborhoods and knew each other. Some
had even worked for both companies at different points in their careers. Over the years,
these two groups of employees talked with one another and knew what went on in each
other‘s plants; they found their views of organized labor inextricably informed by each
other.64 Their employers—Republic and Grumman—would remain the only two major
aircraft manufacturers in the Northeast that had not unionized by the end of World War
II.65 In fact, the two companies, in addition to Northrop of El Segundo, California, would
continue into the late 1940s as the only major U.S. aircraft companies that had not
organized. An exploration of Republic‘s history, as well as organized labor‘s attempts to
unionize the company, proves vital to understanding the difficulties of unionizing aircraft
workers, particularly on Long Island. Republic‘s example also provides a distinct look at
the different ways the UAW and the IAM tried to organize employees in different national
industries, especially the northeastern aircraft manufacturers, as well as providing keen
insight into how many Grummanites may have viewed the prospect of unionization.
Republic grew out of the small Seversky Aircraft Company, which had begun in
1931. When new investors took over the firm later that same year, they renamed it
Agricultural Implement Workers of America, UAW-CIO,‖ Case No. C-2621—Decided August 11, 1943,
in ―Decisions and Orders of the National Labor Relations Board,‖ Volume 51—July 1, 1943—August 19,
1943, published by the National Labor Relations Board, U.S. Government Printing Office, Washington,
DC, 1944, 1191. On the proximity of the two plants to one another, see Stoff, The Aerospace Heritage of
Long Island, 65.
64
For information about the relationship between Grumman and Republic workers, see two
former Grummanites‘ Survey/Questionnaire, Michael Hlinko Questionnaire, 21 December 1999; and
Eugene Coll Survey/Questionnaire, 27 January 2000. Both in author‘s possession.
65
On Republic being ―one of the last major holdouts against unionization in the air frame
industry,‖ see Rodden, The Fighting Machinists, 173.
115
Republic Aviation.66 As Seversky, the company had sold only 140 aircraft; two years later,
with 5,500 employees on its payroll, Republic began a significant transformation; World
War II had a remarkable impact on the company thanks to Republic‘s production of the P47 ―Thunderbolt,‖ one of the Army Air Force‘s major fighter-planes.67 According to the
U.S. military, the Thunderbolt had the most ―consistently reliable performance‖ of all of
the aircraft in the country‘s World War II arsenal.68 By 1944, at the height of the P-47‘s
production, more than 32,000 employees worked at Republic and turned out more than
10,000 planes that year.69 At one point, twenty-eight planes a day came off the assembly
line, or put another way, Republic produced more than one Thunderbolt an hour (the
plants were operating around the clock at the time).70 In all, the company built more than
15,000 P-47s during the conflict, and the firm‘s profits rose considerably.71 As one of the
66
The Republic Aviation moniker officially came into being on October 18, 1939, see Research
and Engineering Department of the UAW-CIO, ―Republic Aircraft Co., Farmingdale, L.I., New York,‖
July 1948, 4, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA. For more on the general
history of Seversky, and its merger with Republic, see Joshua Stoff, The Thunder Factory: An Illustrated
History of Republic Aviation Corporation, (Osceola, WI: Motorbooks International, 1990), 7 and 13-14.
67
Stoff, The Aerospace Heritage of Long Island, 53.
68
Research and Engineering Department of the UAW-CIO, ―Republic Aircraft Co., Farmingdale,
L.I., New York,‖ July 1948, 1, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA. The P47 dominated European skies with a 5:1 ―Kill‖ ratio, which meant for every five enemy planes lost, only
one Thunderbolt went down. Stoff, The Aerospace Heritage of Long Island, 53. For an extended
discussion of the P-47 from its initial planning through its production during the war, see Stoff, The
Thunder Factory, 39-68.
69
On the number of employees at Republic, see Stoff, The Thunder Factory, 7. For information
about the number of P-47s produced, see Stoff, The Aerospace Heritage of Long Island, 53.
70
71
On the number of Thunderbolts built, see and compare Research and Engineering Department
of the UAW-CIO, ―Republic Aircraft Co., Farmingdale, L.I., New York,‖ July 1948, 1, UAW Aerospace
Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA; and Stoff, The Thunder Factory, 7. The UAW-CIO
report places the number precisely at 15,329. For one view of the company‘s profits, see Report, ―Republic
116
largest and most lucrative non-union aircraft companies, Republic looked enticing to labor
organizers, particularly the UAW.72
The UAW officially began trying to organize Republic in 1942. Like many initial
union drives, the campaign went through a period of fits and starts and really did not get
rolling until early January 1943.73 That winter, the UAW began distributing literature
outside the company gates and soliciting membership applications on a regular basis. 74 It
also started holding regular union meetings. At one such gathering, the membership
elected four men as shop stewards. Shortly thereafter, these men—Sam Stone, Robert
Katz, Raymond Kahler, and Robert Bobrow—while proudly displaying their union
steward buttons, began pamphleteering and soliciting for the UAW, ostensibly, on their
own time, both inside and outside the plant.75 Company officials and supervisors asked
Aircraft Co., Farmingdale, L.I., New York,‖ by the Research and Engineering Department of the UAWCIO, Detroit, MI, July 1948, 2, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA.
72
For information about how enticing Republic looked to the UAW, see, generally, Research and
Engineering Department of the UAW-CIO, ―Republic Aircraft Co., Farmingdale, L.I., New York,‖ July
1948, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA.
73
Myron Dmyterko to J.W. Livingston, 13 December 1949, UAW Aerospace Department
Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA; ―In the Matter of Republic Aviation Corporation and International
Union United Automobile, Aircraft and Agricultural Implement Workers of America, UAW-CIO,‖ Case
No. C-2621—Decided August 11, 1943, in ―Decisions and Orders of the National Labor Relations
Board,‖ Volume 51—July 1, 1943—August 19, 1943, published by the National Labor Relations Board,
U.S. Government Printing Office, Washington, DC, 1944, 1191.
74
―In the Matter of Republic Aviation Corporation and International Union United Automobile,
Aircraft and Agricultural Implement Workers of America, UAW-CIO,‖ Case No. C-2621—Decided
August 11, 1943, in ―Decisions and Orders of the National Labor Relations Board,‖ Volume 51—July 1,
1943—August 19, 1943, published by the National Labor Relations Board, U.S. Government Printing
Office, Washington, DC, 1944, 1191.
75
Sam Stone began working for Republic on July 29, 1942, in the fuselage department. He joined
the union on November 10, 1942. Robert Katz, a longer-term employee, started at the company on
January 13, 1941. Eventually reaching a position in the assembly shop, Katz became a UAW member on
January 30, 1942. Robert Bobrow joined the union almost immediately after starting at Republic in April
117
them to stop, and even warned them to stop, but the stewards continued. When Katz‘s
supervisor questioned him about what he hoped to accomplish with a union, particularly
during wartime, Katz responded that employees wanted to ―obtain adjustments of
grievances, improve their working conditions and morale, and produce more goods for the
war effort,‖ among other things.76 Republic managers, looking to keep the union from
getting a toehold in the company, promptly fired the four stewards within one week for
violating a supposedly strict company rule against soliciting for any cause on company
property.77
On March 24, the UAW filed charges of unfair labor practices against Republic
with the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB) and requested a thorough investigation
1942. He became a UAW member on the 27th of that month and acted as the Chairman of the union‘s
organizing committee and the main steward for the whole plant. And interestingly, Raymond Kahler
actually became a UAW member on January 13, 1942, more than a week before Republic hired him on the
21st. Like Bobrow, Kahler was a member of the organizing committee. ―In the Matter of Republic
Aviation Corporation and International Union United Automobile, Aircraft and Agricultural Implement
Workers of America, UAW-CIO,‖ Case No. C-2621—Decided August 11, 1943, in ―Decisions and Orders
of the National Labor Relations Board,‖ Volume 51—July 1, 1943—August 19, 1943, published by the
National Labor Relations Board, U.S. Government Printing Office, Washington, DC, 1944, contains a
brief occupational biography of each of these men on pages 1192, 1196, 1198, and 1191, respectively. For
information about the election as stewards, and their pamphleteering and organizing efforts, see the
aforementioned volume page 1192.
76
―In the Matter of Republic Aviation Corporation and International Union United Automobile,
Aircraft and Agricultural Implement Workers of America, UAW-CIO,‖ Case No. C-2621—Decided
August 11, 1943, in ―Decisions and Orders of the National Labor Relations Board,‖ Volume 51—July 1,
1943—August 19, 1943, published by the National Labor Relations Board, U.S. Government Printing
Office, Washington, DC, 1944, 1196.
77
Technically, the company discharged Stone on January 20 for soliciting membership inside the
plant on his own time (he claimed he did it during his lunch time). Whereas Katz received his walking
papers because he continued to wear his union steward button in the plant. Bobrow and Kahler also
received their discharges because they refused to take off their steward buttons in the plant, despite
warnings to do so. For more details on these issues, see ―In the Matter of Republic Aviation Corporation
and International Union United Automobile, Aircraft and Agricultural Implement Workers of America,
UAW-CIO,‖ Case No. C-2621—Decided August 11, 1943, in ―Decisions and Orders of the National
Labor Relations Board,‖ Volume 51—July 1, 1943—August 19, 1943, published by the National Labor
Relations Board, U.S. Government Printing Office, Washington, DC, 1944, 1190.
118
of the matter.78 During the inquiry, the company justified its firing of the men for two
reasons. First, Republic argued that when the men wore their union steward buttons, that
action led some employees to believe that the union had already received authorization to
bargain on their behalf, which impinged on the company‘s policy of strict neutrality in
dealing with labor matters.79 Second, the company also had a strict rule about soliciting
for any cause on its property, which it had established and published in its employees‘
handbook in March 1941, well before any union activity had taken place.80 Despite these
arguments, on May 21, 1943 a NLRB trial examiner sided with the dismissed workers and
found that the company had engaged in certain unfair labor practices. To remedy the
situation, the NLRB ordered the company to rehire the workers without prejudice, as well
as issue them all of their back pay, and conspicuously place details about the settlement in
the plant for all employees to see.81
Republic might have lost the initial argument, but it was not willing to go down
without a fight. Shortly after the NLRB handed down its decision, the aircraft
78
See ibid.
79
Ibid., 1187.
80
The main purpose of the company‘s rule against solicitation seems to have been to check all
unauthorized lotteries, benevolent fund collections, and any other unauthorized activities from occurring.
Nevertheless, during the war there appears to have been several exceptions to this rule made by
management, such as Red Cross drives, war bond drives, collections for the American Legion, and other
like-minded causes. Technically, these solicitations were not personal appeals, per se, but rather ad hoc,
company approved, large scale funding drives. Still, there appears to have been many person to person
solicitations that occurred with the knowledge, participation, and tacit approval of supervisors, and this
happened both on company time and during the solicitor‘s own time. For a more in-depth discussion of
these issues, see ibid., 1192-1193.
81
See ibid., 1201-1203.
119
manufacturer appealed the case, which passed from the NLRB to the U.S. Circuit Court
of Appeals, Second Circuit.82 When the Circuit Court sided with the NLRB in March
1944, the company pushed the case even higher, all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court.
On April 23, 1945, the nation‘s highest court upheld the NLRB and Circuit Court‘s
findings and ruled that Republic had infringed on its employees‘ rights by prohibiting them
from soliciting for a union while at work, on their own time. To date, lawyers still cite the
decision as major case law; the courts continue to recognize the case as a fundamental
finding that upholds the right of workers to organize. 83
Although the UAW had ultimately won the battle, union leaders would think long
and hard about what had happened before they would try to reengage Republic‘s workers
in an organizational drive; the company would obviously continue to resist attempts at
unionization, and workers might have second thoughts about getting involved given the
ordeal that pro-union employees had gone through. In the end, it would take several years,
a major shift in the economy, and the incursion of its rival—the IAM—before the UAW
would make another run at Republic.
82
The exact details of the appeals process are as follows: In May 1943, Republic appealed the
NLRB trial examiner‘s findings. That July, the NLRB heard oral arguments about the case at its national
headquarters in Washington, DC. Unfortunately for Republic, an NLRB appeals board upheld the original
trial examiner‘s findings on August 11. For more on this issue, see ibid., 1186-1190. Unsatisfied by that
decision, the aircraft manufacture then appealed the case to the U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals, Second
Circuit, which handed down its decision on March 22, 1944, upholding the NLRB‘s previous two
findings. For the full details of this decision, see Republic Aviation Corporation v. National Labor
Relations Board, No. 287, Circuit Court of Appeals, Second Circuit, March 22, 1944, in ―Federal
Reporter, Second Series, Volume 142 F. 2d,‖ St. Paul, MN, West Publishing Company, 1944, 193-197.
83
Decision, in Republic Aviation Corp v. NLRB, 324 U.S. 793 (1945) Decided April 23, 1945,
before the U.S. Supreme Court.
120
During the first three years after World War II, Republic had its share of financial
difficulties, like most aircraft manufacturers. The company downsized significantly and
reported losses of approximately two to four million dollars annually.84 Within a few years,
however, thanks to the increased need for military aircraft Republic began rehiring large
numbers of employees, and by the end of the first quarter of 1948, it was projecting a $3.9
million profit for that year.85 The F-84 ―Thunderjet,‖ the first jet fighter that could handle
air-to-air refueling as well as carry atomic weapons, helped turn Republic around.86 The
Air Force, enamored with the aircraft, ordered over 400 F-84s from Republic in early
1948.87 By the end of the Korean War, the Thunderjet would establish itself as one of the
key weapons of the conflict with a 7:1 kill ratio over the Soviet MiG, a performance that
would keep Republic profitable.88
84
These figures come from a report by the UAW-CIO‘s Research Department. Perhaps the single
largest contributing factor to the company‘s loses was its attempt to try to build the Seabee, a private,
personal, commercial aircraft, which had little demand. For more information on these issues, see
Research and Engineering Department of the UAW-CIO, ―Republic Aircraft Co., Farmingdale, L.I., New
York,‖ July 1948, 2, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA.
85
The figure comes from a 1948 UAW‘s Research Department report that projected that Republic
would make a 76.3 % return on its investment that year. By comparison, General Motor figured a return
of only 26% on its investment in 1948. The government owned the majority of Republic‘s land buildings,
and machinery, which it leased to the company. For more details, see Research and Engineering
Department of the UAW-CIO, ―Republic Aircraft Co., Farmingdale, L.I., New York,‖ July 1948, 4, UAW
Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA.
86
Stoff, The Thunder Factory, 8.
87
The UAW puts the exact number of 1948 F-84 Air Force orders at 409. For more on this issue,
see and compare Stoff, The Aerospace Heritage of Long Island, 62-63; Stoff, The Thunder Factory; and
Research and Engineering Department of the UAW-CIO, ―Republic Aircraft Co., Farmingdale, L.I., New
York,‖ July 1948, 1, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA.
88
A full discussion of the history of the F-84 is in Stoff, The Thunder Factory, 82-109. For a
history of the kill-ratio of Republic‘s P-47 Thunderbolt, one of the company‘s more successful aircraft, see
121
One cannot determine with certainty which union, the UAW or IAM, began the
postwar unionization drive at Republic. The archives of both unions remain silent on the
exact details, as do other traditional historical sources. Documents do reveal that by early
1948 the IAM had made significant headway at Republic, so much so that the UAW
feared it might lose the company.89 In May 1948, Republic had more than 6,000 workers
on its payroll, and by the end of June the IAM had convinced more than 2,000 of them to
sign union authorization cards allowing the organization to negotiate on their behalf.90
Like many aircraft workers in the postwar era, Republic employees faced the threat of
constant layoffs and rehires at lower pay, despite the company‘s profitability.
Manufacturers kept wages down with this practice. 91 According to the UAW, Republic
seemed particularly calculating in these matters because it gave its foremen a low ―Cost
Quota,‖ which essentially rewarded them with a percentage of the wages they saved by
reclassifying jobs to lower pay grades, issuing layoffs, and helping to rehire former
employees at less money.92 By late June 1948, several Republic employees had received
89
Historian Stephen Patnode notes that IAM recruiter Martin Buckley was initiating a drive on
Long Island in 1948. For more details, see Stephen Raymond Patnode, ―Labor‘s Love Lost: The Influence
of Gender, Race, and Class on the Workplace in Postwar America‖ (Ph.D. dissertation, Stony Brook
University, 2008), 139-140.
90
On the number of employees at Republic, see John W. Livingston to Charles H. Kerrigan, 15
May 1948, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA. Regarding the number of
workers who had signed union authorization cards, see IAM, Long Island NY Office, ―Watch the I.A.M.
News for True Republic Confessions,‖ 21 October 1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19,
Folder 1, ALUA.
91
This layoff system is related in IAM, Amityville, NY Office, ―Is My Job Safe?,‖ 3 October
92
UAW-CIO Office, Farmingdale, NY, ―Why Wage Cuts at Republic?,‖ 4 October 1949, UAW
122
pink slips for no apparent reason, and with no avenue open to appeal the matter, the time
for unionization seemed right.93 On June 24, an NLRB examiner certified that the
Machinists had ―well over the required number of cards‖ to hold an NLRB-sanctioned
election. It informed Republic of that fact, but the company appealed, which meant it
could suspend the election for ninety days, a desperate stalling tactic.94
Others besides Republic felt thankful for a stay of the election. The UAW launched
a massive flier campaign hoping to sway workers to its side. One pamphlet simply
pleaded: ―There are several unions who would like to represent you. Be wise in your
choice. Look them over carefully....SO THINK THINGS OVER—JOIN THE UAW-CIO
TODAY [emphasis in the original document].‖95 In mid-July, the Auto Workers also
published a series of special appeals in their Plane Facts, Republic Edition, newspaper that
combined several elements: the historic achievements of the union with a not so subtle
indictment of the IAM, as well as a quick personal note from one of the UAW‘s leaders.
From the broader perspective, the Auto Workers noted that they represented more than a
million workers in the automotive, aircraft, and farm implement fields. They also stressed
that their organization had gotten raises for their employees at General Motors and
93
A series of terminations occurred after employees requested wage increases or transfers to
other departments with jobs with higher pay grades. See ―Here‘s What Republic Calls Job ‗Security‘: One
Case Illustrates Republic‘s Practice of Unjust Firings,‖ Machinists‘ News, Vol. 1, No. 29., 28 June 1948,
94
Normally, after an NLRB certification took place, workers would vote within two weeks to
determine which union, if any, they choose. See ―Republic‘s ‗Promises‘ Are As Worthless As They Ever
Were: Stalls Election Again; NLRB Accepts Card Count,‖ Machinists‘ News, Vol. 1, No. 30, 5 July 1948,
95
The underlining and capitalization is specifically from UAW-CIO, ―Republic Workers: Cheer
Up Here Comes the UAW-CIO,‖ circa early summer 1948, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box
19, Folder 1, ALUA.
123
Chrysler, as well as their workers at the aircraft firms of Consolidated-Vultee in Wayne,
Michigan, Wright Aeronautical in Paterson, New Jersey, and Bell Aircraft in Buffalo, New
York.96 On a more personal note, the newspaper also recounted, very briefly, that Charles
Kerrigan—the UAW‘s Director of Region 9A and the man who had penned the general
appeal article—had once worked for Republic as a cable splicer for sixty-five cents an
hour.97 But just in case that plea did not strike a chord, the UAW indirectly indicted the
Machinists for their inability to stop Republic‘s layoffs during the immediate postwar
period. ―Another union (one that is around today) tried to organize the plant,‖ the article
reminded Republic workers. ―Some hundreds of workers were laid off at that time without
regard for seniority. What did that union do about the layoffs? NOTHING AT ALL!
[emphasis in the original document]‖98 And it crowed that some Republic old-timers, who
had supposedly been around during the UAW‘s first organizing campaign during the war,
believed that this action ―might never have happened if a good union like the UAW had
96
See Charles Kerrigan, ―Open Letter to Republic Workers: Regional Director Charles Kerrigan
Describes Benefits to be Had by Joining the UAW Aircraft Family,‖ Plane Facts (Republic Edition), New
York, NY, 13 July 1948, 1, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA. Notably, a
July 21 article for Plane Facts (Republic Edition), also mentioned that the union had negotiated raises and
better working conditions for aircraft employees at Stinson, Fairchild, Chance-Vought-Sikorsky, Curtiss
Wright, and North American. See ―Where You Belong…,‖ Plane Facts (Republic Edition), 21 July 1948,
1-2, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA.
97
Information about Kerrigan‘s Republic background can be found in ―An Appeal to Reason,‖
Plane Facts (Republic Edition), 22 July 1948, 2, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder
1, ALUA.
98
See ―An Appeal to Reason,‖ Plane Facts (Republic Edition), 22 July 1948, 1, UAW Aerospace
Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA.
124
been around at the time trying to organize the plant openly, and keeping management too
worried to try to pull any fast ones.‖99
Although the Auto Workers and Machinists continued to vie for Republic workers
throughout the summer, at the end of September, as the election approached, the UAW
seemed to back away. The organization decided to halt its pamphleteering and await the
outcome of the election for the ―welfare of the workers‖; the UAW claimed that it wanted
the workers to decide if they really wished the IAM to represent them, without any
interference from other unions.100 The Auto Workers were hedging. If the Machinists did
not win the election, it did not want them blaming the UAW for the results, as it explained
in a letter to the workers: ―THE UAW-CIO WILL NOT ALLOW ITS ACTIVITIES TO
BE the grounds for AN ALIBI BY THE I.A.M., IF THE I.A.M. SHOULD LOSE THE
ELECTION [emphasis in the original document]. Nor does the UAW desire to be drawn
into a conflict with another union where the only losers will be the workers in the
plant.‖101 The letter ended by cautioning the workers: ―YOU ARE TAKING A BIG STEP
WHEN YOU CHOOSE A UNION TO REPRESENT YOU, SO DO IT CAREFULLY
[emphasis in the original document]‖102
99
See ibid.
100
Apparently, the UAW must also have been contesting the legitimacy of the NLRB‘s
certification of some of the IAM‘s union authorization cards from Republic workers. As a UAW flier to
Republic workers noted: ―…because we are concerned with the future welfare of Republic workers, THE
UAW-CIO IS WITHDRAWING FROM THE PROCEEDINGS BEFORE THE NATIONAL LABOR
RELATIONS BOARD [emphasis in the original document].‖ See Kerrigan, ―Letter to Republic
Workers,‖ circa Late Summer 1948, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA.
101
See ibid.
102
Ibid.
125
The election took place on September 23, 1948.103 The IAM lost by 95 votes.104
Precisely why the Machinists lost is unclear, but what is noticeable is that the workers,
within a matter of three months, suddenly received a substantial wage increases and other
benefits. On October 11, Republic employees obtained a base pay increase of ten cents.
The company claimed it had wanted to give the raise earlier, but did not want to influence
the election.105 A little over a month later, on November 24, workers received their
Christmas Bonus (one week‘s regular pay) early because of their ―outstanding
accomplishment‖ during the year.106 Finally, on December 30, employees who had been
with the company for at least a year received a vacation increase from one week to two
weeks.107 Whether some employees knew about these increases and benefits before the
election is not apparent. Whatever the case, Republic suddenly seemed determined to use
what one UAW historian has called the ―time-honored tactic‖ of the aircraft industry to try
to stave off further NLRB elections by giving employees pay hikes and other benefits at
just the right moment.108 Fortunately for the company, neither the IAM nor UAW could
103
Information on the 1948 vote is contained in Mundy I. Peale to ―Each Republic Employee,‖ 5
October 1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA.
104
A history of the lost election from the previous year is in by the IAM, Long Island Office,
―Republic Sends A ‗Confession‘ to Your Homes,‖ Machinists‘ News, , Vol. 3, No. 10, 24 October 1949,
UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA.
105
The increase supposedly represented the fourth general raise at Republic since the end of the
war. Information on the October 1948 increase is contained in Mundy I. Peale to ―Each Republic
Employee,‖ 5 October 1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA.
106
The November 1948 ―Christmas Bonus‖ is recounted in ibid.
107
The December 1948 vacation time increase is covered in ibid.
108
126
force another election, or even start campaigning for another one, for a least another year;
NLRB rules called for a one-year cooling-off period before another election could take
place.109
The battle for Republic workers‘ allegiance revived in the fall of 1949 and reached
a fevered pitch. All three sides—the IAM, the UAW, and the company itself—thrust and
parried against each other. The firm had begun its campaign earlier in the summer when it
created a small in-house ―Company Appointed Grievance Committee,‖ in response to the
Machinists‘ and workers‘ charges that no system existed to handle wage reductions,
―unjust‖ layoffs and dismissals, as well as other employee complaints. The committee
acted like little more than a titular organization, because Republic still had the final say
over which workers it could lay off or fire, as long as it did so ―justly.‖110 The company
sent an ebullient letter to its employees stressing that it had planned to institute all of the
bonuses and worker improvements of the fall of 1948 even before the IAM had started
pressuring the Farmingdale manufacturer. Republic, the letter proclaimed, was a great
company that treated its employees well, and they would be smart to avoid unions, which
spoil relations between labor and management.111 For its part, the UAW kicked off its
drive in late September by opening an office at the local VFW Hall in Farmingdale.112 It
109
See Mundy I. Peale to ―Each Republic Employee,‖ 5 October 1949, UAW Aerospace
110
See IAM, Amityville, NY Office, ―Surprises at Republic,‖ 21 September 1949, UAW
111
Mundy I. Peale to ―Each Republic Employee,‖ 5 October 1949, UAW Aerospace Department
Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA.
112
See UAW-CIO Farmingdale, NY Office, ―The UAW-CIO Opens Republic Drive,‖ 20
September 1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA.
127
also promised to use several former Chance-Vought employees (one of the UAW‘s
unionized companies) in the Republic campaign; they would sing the praises of the
organization to company employees.113 The IAM also began pushing hard at this point.114
Shortly after Republic had sent out the rosy letter to its employees, the Machinists
published a point-by-point rebuttal stressing that the IAM had forced major changes at the
company.115
While the Auto Workers and Machinists busied themselves trying to sway
Republic‘s workers to their respective sides, some very unique differences emerged
between the two organizations‘ approaches, particularly regarding the language and
tactics they used. Some contemporaries believed the Machinists had a more
―conservative‖ perspective than the Auto Workers.116 This difference became especially
113
Myron Dmyterko to J.W. Livingston, 6 October 1949, UAW Aerospace Department
Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA. An October 12 UAW flier also noted that the organization had
pushed Ford to fund its workers‘ retirement through a pension plan. It also stated that the UAW had won
a company-financed health insurance fund for the Ford workers and their families. For more information
on this subject, see UAW-CIO Office, Farmingdale, New York, ―UAW-CIO Wins Company-Paid
Pensions and Health Insurance,‖ 12 October 1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19,
Folder 1, ALUA.
114
Myron Dmyterko to J.W. Livingston, 6 October 1949, UAW Aerospace Department
Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA. On October 3, the IAM noted in a flier to Republic workers that it
put Shop Chairmen in place in its unionized companies who could remain in direct contact with upper
management, and that when layoffs occur, those dismissed became the first rehired, without a loss of pay.
The organization also stressed that it watched out for workers insurance rights. See IAM, Amityville, NY
Office, ―Is My Job Safe?,‖ 3 October 1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1,
ALUA.
115
IAM, Long Island Office, ―Republic Sends A ‗Confession‘ to Your Homes,‖ Machinists‘
News, Vol. 3, No. 10, 24 October 1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24,
ALUA.
116
The ―conservative‖ label comes from Justin Ostro, the former President and Business
Manager of Republic IAM Lodge 1987. Notably, Ostro also stated that the Machinists had come from the
AFL tradition, whereas the UAW had come out of the CIO. See ―Notes from Phone Interview with Justin
128
noticeable beginning in the fall of 1949 when the IAM started to rely heavily on breadand-butter, ―common man‖-style arguments. The UAW, on the other hand, took a more
Marxian, labor vs. capital, stance—a curious choice given their troubled past with the
Communist Party (as witnessed by the North American Aviation Strike of 1941, when the
union‘s national leadership blamed a handful of Communist leaders for the walkout‘s
failure).117 In essence, the Machinists concentrated on Republic workers‘ individual
benefits and needs, and how the IAM could help them secure them. The UAW,
conversely, stressed the importance of unions in general and the significance of the UAW
nationwide; it never told the workers how joining the UAW would specifically change
their individual lives. In other words, the IAM talked in specifics, whereas the UAW
tended to speak in generalities.
Beginning in mid-October 1949, the IAM began handing out fliers that addressed
common concerns of workers. On the 21st, one Machinist handbill assured Republic
workers that they would remain safe if they signed union pledge cards or wore pro-union
buttons because the law protected workers who tried to form unions (no doubt partially in
thanks to the Supreme Court case won by the Auto Workers several years earlier).118 The
Ostro,‖ 28 November 2006, in the author‘s possession. Richard Rodden, a former machinist himself,
states that the IAM was ―more traditional and less flamboyant‖ than the UAW. See Rodden, The Fighting
Machinists, 101.
117
For more on the NAA strike of 1941, see Lichtenstein, Labor‘s War At Home, 58-66. As IAM
historian Robert Rodden notes, the Machinists viewed Communists as destructive to the labor movement.
The IAM had barred Communists from becoming members of their union in 1924. For more on this issue,
see Rodden, The Fighting Machinists, 76, 117, and 165. Historian Stephen Patnode also notes the IAM‘s
emphasis on ―bread-and-butter economic issues.‖ See Patnode, ―Labor‘s Love Lost,‖ 138.
118
Court Case.
Curiously, the UAW literature form this time period is devoid of any mention of the Supreme
129
flier assured Republic workers that many had already turned in their cards without
retaliation from the company, and some pro-IAM employees had even received
promotions to lead men on the assembly line. The handbill‘s main message provided
Republic workers with real-life examples that they would avoid punishment if they stood
up for their rights; its whole demeanor assuaged one of their deepest fears—the fear of
repercussions.119 Another flier stressed the IAM‘s patriotism and their ability to get results
during negotiations with employers. The handout stated that the Machinists had resolved
97% of all of their discussions negotiations with companies without resorting to a strike, a
very real and common concern of workers. It also noted that the organization had
negotiated some pension plans that had lasted for more than fifteen years—another breadand-butter argument. And finally, the flier stressed the IAM‘s democratic nature by noting
the union ―operate[s] as YOU want it to, because it is run by YOU.‖120 Overall, the IAM
wanted to comfort workers and sway them over to its side with real life issues—not a
perspective the UAW stressed in its literature.
By contrast, the Auto Workers‘ handbills, pamphlets, and newspapers from this
period only focused generally on the plight of aircraft workers by couching their problems
in the very broad language of labor vs. capital, ―us vs. them.‖ Although their articles did a
solid job explaining the situation from an overall perspective, they did not offer Republic
workers any real or practical indications that the union would improve their individual
119
IAM, Long Island NY Office, ―Watch the I.A.M. News for True Republic Confessions,‖ 21
October 1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA.
120
IAM, Amityville, NY Office, ―World‘s Highest Standards,‖ 8 November 1949, UAW
130
lives. The UAW‘s October 25, 1949, newspaper, for example, prepared especially for
Republic Workers, equated the leaders of the aircraft industry with overpaid fat cats
whose whole way of life rested on governmental subsidies.121 Another flier, entitled ―Mr.
Peale Goes to Town,‖ targeted Mundy Peale, the President of Republic, for a redressing.
The handbill stressed how much pay Peale took home each week and pronounced: ―We
know that Republic workers are fed up with a Government-subsidized management which
takes bows for giving the workers what is theirs in justice, while remaining discreetly silent
about how much of it they have taken back again.‖122 While the flier did mention
Republic‘s practice of job reclassification at lower rates and its lack of a strong seniority
system, the union‘s only solution was to ask workers to vote for the organization to
represent them.123 Another special Republic Edition of the UAW newspaper, which came
out on November 22, concentrated on wage and merit increases, as well as job
classifications, in the U.S. aircraft industry as a whole, and not specifically at Republic.
Although the paper did a fine job pointing out the system‘s flaws, it did not tell Republic
121
UAW-CIO Office, Farmingdale, NY, ―Gold-Plated Panhandlers: Is the Aircraft Industry—
Built by the Public—Operated in the Public Interest?‖, UAW-CIO Organizer, Republic Aircraft Workers
Edition, Vol 1., No. 1, 25 October 1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1,
ALUA.
122
―Mr. Peale Goes to Town!‖, UAW-CIO Organizer, Republic Aircraft Workers Edition, 9
November 1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA. According to at
least one contemporary Republic worker (Justin Ostro, who would become the President of Republic IAM
Lodge 1987) Mundy Peale was an incredibly arrogant man. When Peale traveled to Washington, DC, to
meet with Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara about Republic‘s F-105 contract, and the Secretary told
Peale he did not have time to meet with him, Peale apparently told McNamara, in no uncertain terms, that
they were going to meet. McNamara then acceded to Peale‘s demand and proceeded to explain in less
than five minutes that the DoD had rejected the F-105 contract and had decided to build the TFX jointtask fighter instead. See ―Notes from Phone Interview with Justin Ostro‖ 28 November 2006, in the
123
―Mr. Peale Goes to Town!‖, UAW-CIO Organizer, Republic Aircraft Workers Edition, 9
November 1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA.
131
workers what it could do for them. It did, however, gloriously recount all of the UAW‘s
various victories around the country.124 Yet another UAW flier accurately argued that
Republic had kept workers‘ pay and promotions in check with its supposedly ―scientific‖
job evaluation system and merit increases; nonetheless it still played up the general class
struggle angle further by asking Republic employees to consider how hard President Peale
worked writing letters compared to the jobs they worked.125
Overall, by the fall of 1949, the IAM had provided Republic workers with more
useful information than the UAW, and in greater quantities. While the UAW had produced
professionally published ―Republic Edition‖ newspapers and pamphlets, the IAM had
created a mixture of folksy handwritten and hand-illustrated fliers and handbills, as well as
professionally printed newspapers specifically for Republic workers. By mid-November,
the Machinists had already published three volumes of their newspaper with more than ten
issues each, contrasted with the UAW‘s two issues of its newspaper. When it came to
providing the workers with information tailored to their specific concerns, the IAM‗s
efforts far outstripped those of the UAW.126
124
―Why Merit Increases in Aircraft?‖, UAW-CIO Organizer, Republic Aircraft Workers edition,
Vol. 1, No. 2, 22 November 1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA.
125
UAW-CIO Office, Farmingdale, Long Island, ―Job Evaluation: What Does It Mean? How
Does It Work?‖, 10 January 1950, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA.
126
One can determine the quality and quantities of the UAW‘s and IAM‘s publications by
comparing and contrasting the two organization‘s documents cited in this chapter. A prime example of
one of the IAM‘s handwritten fliers is IAM Office, Amityville, NY, ―DIAGNOSIS: Same Old Knife,‖
March 1950, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA. This document features
hand-illustrated World War II GIs and a poem that relates that Republic‘s men (war veterans) had been
tough overseas in the war. Now, the flier said, they were getting screwed over by their boss and they
needed to stand up and fight for themselves and the rights had they had before by siding with the IAM.
For historian Stephen Patnode‘s take on the same flier, see Patnode, ―Labor‘s Love Lost,‖ 147-148.
132
Fear became another problem that plagued the UAW‘s campaign and stilted its
progress during the fall of 1949, fear that people would link a UAW Republic organizing
effort with Communist organizers—not a pleasant association in the era. Workers also
worried, at least according to the UAW, that Republic might retaliate against them if they
sided with the Auto Workers. Workers remembered that, the UAW Auto Workers had
unexpectedly abandoned their campaign at the aircraft manufacturer when Republic
dragged the shop stewards to the Supreme Court, and they feared a repeat of that failure.
All these worries became particularly pronounced starting in the last week of
October 1949 after some Communists handed out copies of The Daily Worker at
Republic‘s main gates. Concerned about its past connections to Communist organizers,
the UAW tried to distance itself from the group. That week the UAW halted
pamphleteering at Republic until the Communists moved on to a different location.127
Despite the Auto Workers‘ attempts to distance separate themselves from radicalism, the
Machinists hoped to capitalize on events, and they quickly turned out a flier that
questioned the UAW‘s loyalty while stressing the Machinists‘ patriotism. The November 8
flier blatantly recounted that the IAM had gotten rid of the ―COMMIES‖ and ―anyone else
who believed in the overthrow of our government by force‖ at its annual convention as
early as August 1925.128 The Machinists had seen ―the need of clipping the wings of the
127
Myron Dmyterko to J. Livingston, 1 November 1949, UAW Aerospace Department
128
IAM, Amityville, NY Office, ―World‘s Highest Standards,‖ 8 November 1949, UAW
133
left-wing birds better than 20 years ago,‖ the flier claimed.129 Overall, the handbill—while
trying to paint the UAW as a Communist organization—also tried to hold the IAM up as a
patriotic, middle-of-the-road union.130
At approximately the same time that the IAM tried to inflame fears about the
UAW‘s Communist connection, the Auto Workers learned about Republic workers‘ fears
that the UAW might abandon them. On November 1, Myron Dmyterko, the Auto
Workers‘ lead organizer at Republic, wrote to UAW headquarters in Detroit and noted
about the situation:
The people (workers) at Republic are beginning to
take more notice of the UAW now than at first. There is
however fear in the workers‘ minds—fear that the UAW
might withdraw from the drive as had happened in the past
and fear of reprisal by the Company. These reports come
from our organizers from within the shop. We have assured
the workers by voice and literature that this fear is
unfounded.131
Dmyterko then confessed to one of his other supervisors in a separate letter on the same
date: ―Our drive is gaining a bit of momentum. The workers at Republic are at this point
beginning to look for us at the gates with our leaflets. However, the signed cards are not
coming in as fast as I had expected. We have received some twenty five cards at this
point.‖132 Six weeks later, things had not gotten much better for the UAW. By that point,
129
Ibid.
130
Ibid.
131
Myron Dmyterko to J. Livingston, 1 November 1949, UAW Aerospace Department
132
Myron Dmyterko to Paul Russo, 1 November 1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection,
Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA.
134
Dmyterko had only received a total of sixty signed authorization cards, and he reported to
Detroit: ―The contacts we have made are skeptical about signing cards due to the fact that
they question us about the stability of the UAW. This is asked of us because the UAW
started to organize the plant in 1942 and have withdrawn so many times since that
date.‖133 Nevertheless, Dmyterko concluded by noting that he and his compatriots
believed that the IAM might be preparing to pull out of the Republic campaign because it
supposedly felt frustrated by the slow signup for IAM representation. The UAW
representative claimed that they stood ready to jump into any void created if the IAM
quit.134
But where Dmyterko got the notion that the IAM was leaving is a mystery. The
Machinists had no intention of abandoning Republic.
The Machinists faced a few of their own challenges collecting union authorization
cards. By mid-November, the IAM had obtained only about 35% of Republic workers‘
pledge cards (roughly 1715), and the organization had promised that it would not even try
to hold another election until they had at least 51% pledged to the organization. 135 In an
article titled ―We Confess to Republic,‖ IAM organizers complained that employees
seemed content to stand by and wait for the ―other guy‖ to sign up first. The article
133
Myron Dmyterko to J.W. Livingston, 13 December 1949, UAW Aerospace Department
Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA..
134
135
Ibid.
Because the exact number of Republic employees is difficult to determine for certain time
periods, the 1,715 figure is based on the approximate 4,900 known Republic workers eligible to vote in an
NLRB election in May 1950. For the 4,900 figure, see IAM, Amityville, NY, ―Another Jekyll and Hyde
Act,‖ 4 May 1950, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA.
135
suggested that if workers did not start registering soon, an election might not even
occur.136 The Machinists also ran a special appeal from a twenty-four year Republic
veteran who expressed his views about working conditions and how the IAM had forced
small changes at the company. It seemed especially pitched at new workers and those
who had not signed their IAM cards yet. He wrote:
We at Republic Aircraft are all in the same boat. We
haven‘t had it too bad in the past several years because of
one fact—we have profited through the campaign
management has waged to prevent unionization of this
plant. Management arbitrarily improved wages.
Management arbitrarily improved working conditions. And
management may have arbitrarily fooled some of us, but not
all of us into thinking we are secure at Republic without a
Union.
….We face a fork in the road. One road leads to job
security through unionization. The other road, and it‘s a
rough one, leads right back to where we were years ago. So
either, [sic] we sign I.A.M. Authorization cards, win an
election and become a union plant, or we stay dis-organized
[sic] subject to every whim of every boss at Republic…. 137
This Republic veteran concluded by admonishing his fellow workers that ―in the 24 years
I‘ve had to work for a living[,] I‘ve found out that whenever management fights like the
devil to keep out a union… that‘s when the employees really need one.‖ 138
By late winter/early spring 1950, the IAM had gained significant momentum, while
the UAW‘s campaign continued to flag. Despite Republic‘s gift of a Christmas bonus (one
136
―We Confess to Republic,‖ Machinists‘ News, Long Island, NY Edition, Vol. III., No. 11, 14
November 1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA.
137
―Come On!—Let‘s Face the Facts,‖ Machinists‘ News, Long Island, NY Edition, Vol. III.,
No. 11, 14 November 1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA.
138
Ibid.
136
week‘s pay) to all its employees at the end of 1949 (as well as the opportunity to purchase
gifts in the company‘s plants at a 35% discount), the workers seemed ready to rebel
against management and form a union.139 By mid-winter, the UAW still only had
approximately 275 union authorization cards, whereas the IAM had collected almost
enough to meet its goal.140 By the end of March/early April, the IAM filed for an NLRBsanctioned election.141 As soon as the NLRB and company could agree on a date for the
event, more than 4,900 Republic shop floor workers and production and maintenance
engineers would head to the polls and decide the company‘s fate. 142
139
Republic‘s Christmas bonuses are recounted in Myron Dmyterko to J. Livingston, 1 November
1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA. Notably, another factor that
might have played into the general ill-humor of Republic workers toward their company might have been
the fact that Grumman had granted an 8 cent per hour increase to its workers on December 26th. That
amount, when coupled with Grumman‘s holiday pay and Christmas Bonuses had Republic workers upset,
at least according to UAW organizers. For more on this subject, see Myron Dmyterko to J.W. Livingston,
13 December 1949, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA.
140
On January 10th, the UAW had 110 signed cards in hand and claimed that it was getting
much more active in the plant. At that time, it said it had 20 volunteers working for the organization and
was looking to get close to 100 very soon. One month later, on February 17th, however, the organization
had still only obtained 275 cards. UAW organizers said that workers had a good feeling in the plant about
the organization, but sign-up had been slow because people feared reprisal by the company. In a meeting
for Republic workers during this time at the local UAW‘s organizing office, for example, only nine
workers showed up. It was suggested that the meetings be moved to Mineola and be held later in the
evening. For more on these issues, see and compare Myron Dmyterko to J. Livingston, 10 January 1950;
and Myron Dmyterko to Brother Livingston, 17 February 1950. Both found in UAW Aerospace
141
For information about the IAM filing for an NLRB-sanctioned election in later March/early
April 1950, see IAM, Amityville, NY, ―The International Association of Machinists Will File a Petition,‖
March-April 1950, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA.
142
The figure of approximate 4900 eligible Republic voters come from IAM, Amityville, NY,
―Another Jekyll and Hyde Act,‖ 4 May 1950, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24,
ALUA.
137
Although the IAM wanted to hold the election during the week of April 10, the
company did not give in that easily.143 It stalled the event by appealing the election
application.144 Republic‘s workers finally went to the ballot boxes, and on Thursday,
November 2, 1950, in a vote of 1778 to 1717, employees gave the election to the IAM by
61 votes.145 After several long years of labor organizing, Republic had finally fallen to
unionization. By the end of 1950, Grumman remained the only major, non-union aircraft
company in the eastern U.S.146
In spite of management‘s dire fears, for several years the IAM and Republic lived
in relative harmony as the company‘s F-105 Thunderchief, an Air Force supersonic
fighter-bomber, became a highly profitable aircraft and helped expand employment
considerably.147 But in 1956, the two sides reached an impasse during contract
143
On the IAM‘s desire to hold the election during the week of April 10, see IAM, Amityville,
NY, ―The International Association of Machinists Will File a Petition,‖ March-April 1950, UAW
144
Ironically, as the IAM noted in one of its fliers, despite Republic President Mundy Peale‘s past
pronouncement that he was ―not opposed to collective bargaining,‖ the election was going to have to ―be
forced upon Republic by an agency of Uncle Sam.‖ For more, see IAM, Amityville, NY, ―Another Jekyll
and Hyde Act,‖ 4 May 1950, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA.
145
Notably, a telegram from Charles Kerrigan, the UAW‘s Regional Director of Long Island, to
UAW headquarters, stated that the IAM had won by 67 votes, not 61. Obviously the telegram writer
probably interpreted a handwritten 61, where the 1 looked like a 7 and thus wrote 67. He apparently had
a problem reading the handwriting since he typed the message was from a ―Charles H Kerrnwunp,‖
instead of ―Charles H. Kerrigan‖ the UAW‘s Region 9A Director. For the final vote tally, and evidence of
this issue, see Telegram, Charles H. Kerrnwunp [sic] (in New York, NY) to John W. Livingston, 1252
PM, 2 November 1950, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 24, ALUA.
146
Northrop of El Segundo, California remained the only other unorganized major aircraft
company at that time. One brief, but solid, discussion about the IAM‘s campaign at Republic can be
found in Rodden, The Fighting Machinists, 173.
147
The F-105 replaced the F-84F in the Air Force‘s arsenal. By 1959, Republic had built more
than 600 Thunderchiefs and they would later become the main aircraft used in the Vietnam War. During
138
negotiations, and a bitter and violent strike ensued which left an indelible impression both
locally and nationally. Talks had broken down over the issues of wage increases, the
number of paid holidays, and improved health benefits. 148 Neither side wanted to give in,
particularly the workers who felt that the company had taken everything away from them
during prior negotiations, so much so that union officials noted: ―we had to fight them
lock, stock, and barrel to get back piecemeal what we had before we started.‖149 For many
Grummanites, the 1956 Republic strike would become a vivid part of their personal views
of the realities of a unionized company, and one that stood only a few miles away.
The strike began the week of February 19 when approximately 11,500 workers
walked away from their work stations.150 Both sides had dug in and prepared for a long
that conflict, they would fly 75 % of all of the air strikes during the first 4 years of the war. For detailed
information on the Thunderchief, see Stoff, The Thunder Factory, 122-143.
148
For the key issues of the negotiations, see Daily Coordination Summary of the Joint IAMUAW Coordinating Committee, by the IAM Regional Office, Los Angeles, CA, No. 6, 31 January 1956,
UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 13, Folder 12, ALUA.
149
Union leaders mentioned this about the 1955 negotiations in particular. For more, see Daily
Coordination Summary of the Joint IAM-UAW Coordinating Committee, by the IAM Regional Office,
Los Angeles, CA, No. 17, 15 February 1956, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 13, Folder 12,
ALUA.
150
Documents do not relate the precise date of when the strike began. Originally set to commence
at midnight on February 18th, it appears the IAM held off for at least a day to give Republic a little more
time to try to reach an agreement. When that failed, the strike began. Union records claim that the strike
was in ―full swing‖ by Monday, February 20th. For more on this issue, see and compare Daily
ALUA; Daily Coordination Summary of the Joint IAM-UAW Coordinating Committee, by the IAM
Regional Office, Los Angeles, CA, No. 18, 16 February 1956, UAW Aerospace Department Collection,
Box 13, Folder 12, ALUA; and Daily Coordination Summary of the Joint IAM-UAW Coordinating
Committee, by the IAM Regional Office, Los Angeles, CA, No. 20, 20 February 1956, UAW Aerospace
On the issue of the number of workers who walked out, union records place the figure at
somewhere between 11,000 and 12,000 employees, whereas Time settled on 12,000. Another union report
placed the number precisely at 11,625. As a happy medium, I choose the approximate figure 11,500. For
details about these figures, see and compare Daily Coordination Summary of the Joint IAM-UAW
139
fight. The company had erected guard towers, complete with movie cameras (in the hope
of documenting ―the struggle to stop incoming cars‖) at all of the entrances to its main
plant in Farmingdale.151 Barbed wire also ringed the facility‘s entire perimeter. Inside the
factory, executives set up cots and stocked the cafeteria with enough frozen food for
several weeks.152 Union officials, on the other hand, conducted picket line drills and had
placed a trailer outside the company gates with a big sign on it declaring it the ―Republic
Lodge 1987, International Association of Machinists, Field Office.‖ IAM workers also
prepared coffee wagons and sound trucks to send in if a stalemate occurred.153
Coordinating Committee, by the IAM Regional Office, Los Angeles, CA, No. 20, 20 February 1956,
UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 14, Folder 27, ALUA; Daily Coordination Summary of the
Joint IAM-UAW Coordinating Committee, by the IAM Regional Office, Los Angeles, CA, No. 26, 28
February 1956, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 13, Folder 13, ALUA; Daily Coordination
Summary of the Joint IAM-UAW Coordinating Committee, by the IAM Regional Office, Los Angeles,
CA, No. 38, 16 March 1956, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 13, Folder 12, ALUA; and
―State of Business: First Big Strike,‖ Time, 5 March 1956, 94.
151
―State of Business: First Big Strike,‖ Time, 5 March 1956, 94. On other preparations by
Republic, see Daily Coordination Summary of the Joint IAM-UAW Coordinating Committee, by the IAM
152
See and compare ―State of Business: First Big Strike,‖ Time, 5 March 1956, 94; and Daily
ALUA. Interestingly, later on in the spring of 1958, when it looked like another strike would occur, Justin
Ostro, the President and Business Manager of the IAM‘s Republic Lodge 1987, noted that Republic‘s
preparations for the strike drew a remarkable resemblance to the company‘s 1956 actions. Preparations
included: ―1) Erection of towers at every gate of the Republic plant—two towers at each of the main gates.
The towers were fireproof and contained unbreakable glass windows, equipped with large newsreel
cameras. 2) Steel posts set into concrete were strung around the entire perimeter of the Republic plant
with barbed wire cyclone fencing. 3) Cots and other sleeping equipment along with equipment for feeding
were brought into the plant so that personnel could sleep in. 4) Eleven large railroad tankers filled with oil
were brought into the Republic plant.‖ Fortunately, the strike did not occur because the two sides reached
an agreement on April 8. See Justin Ostro to Ernest Demcheck, 14 April 1958, UAW Papers, UAW
153
Daily Coordination Summary of the Joint IAM-UAW Coordinating Committee, by the IAM
Box 13, Folder 12, ALUA; and Daily Coordination Summary of the Joint IAM-UAW Coordinating
140
On Monday, February 20, the situation started to get very tense when the strike hit
full stride. Workers had forced Republic to shut down all of its plants (its main
Farmingdale facility and three other smaller Long Island plants) and kept approximately
5,000 engineers (non-union members) from entering the company‘s gates. 154 Although the
IAM said it would allow non-production line workers through if they agreed to not
produce any planes, the company refused the offer. 155 Adding more problems to the
already difficult situation, the Suffolk County Sheriff‘s Department had men on site
watching the picketers. Violence erupted, and sources disagree on which side instigated
the melee. According to the IAM, Sheriff William McCollom stood by ―goading deputies
into committing acts of brutality against strikers.‖156 The Machinists claimed: ―When
McCullom‘s [sic] legal goons are not beating and jailing our picketing members on
trumped up charges, they are loafing around the plant gates getting coffee handouts from
Republic management and fawning on Republic supervision.‖157 But such tactics
154
Regional Office, Los Angeles, CA, No. 20, February 20, 1956, UAW Aerospace Department Collection,
Box 14, Folder 27, ALUA; and ―State of Business: First Big Strike,‖ Time, 5 March 1956, 94.
155
156
157
Ibid.
141
apparently backfired, at least according to IAM officials, because the workers seemed to
grow more militant and morale remained high. 158
Time magazine described the incident differently. It reported that the Sheriff‘s
Department, or ―police,‖ had very few officers present and that they had received orders
―not to carry nightsticks.‖159 The journal reported that authorities found themselves
―repeatedly overwhelmed,‖ and when ―a mob of pickets rushed to an entrance to head off
workers, a cop stood aside. ‗What the hell was I going to do?‘ he muttered. I was
outnumbered 200 to 1.‖160 Time also claimed that the picketers had turned engineers and
other strikebreakers back by throwing themselves onto cars that attempted to drive
through the picket lines.161 No matter who bore the responsibility for the violence, the
magazine somberly concluded, ―In the first six days of rioting at the gates, 139 were
arrested and more than 30 injured.‖162
Hoping to force the picketers back to work as soon as possible, Republic, at the
end of the strike‘s first week, went to the New York State Supreme Court and showed
fifteen minutes of filmed ―mob violence by the strikers.‖ The result was a ―temporary
158
Box 14, Folder 27, ALUA. Apparently, the Machinists appealed to New York Governor Averell Harriman
to intervene and keep the sheriff from breaking the strike, but nothing seemed to ever come of that
request. For more on this issue, see Daily Coordination Summary of the Joint IAM-UAW Coordinating
159
160
Ibid.
161
Ibid.
162
Ibid.
142
injunction against mass picketing.‖163 On February 26, the IAM rallied more than 7,500
Republic workers at the local armory in Jamaica, New York, and convinced them to
pledge to stay out on strike until the company offered a fair settlement. 164 The next
morning, with the injunction in full force, only 132 production workers returned to their
jobs, and only half the technical and clerical staff joined them. 165
Although the violence subsided, the strike continued to grind on through the rest
of the spring. On April 2, Republic canceled all of the employees‘ group health insurance
and threatened retiring employees with pension cuts, but that forced very few of them
back to work.166 By the end of the strike‘s eighth week, only 10% of the strikers had
returned to their jobs.167 Ironically, one of the key morale boosters for the strikers came
from the Auto Workers. In early April, the UAW sent the local Republic IAM lodge a
$10,000 strike fund check in a show of solidarity.168 The money, combined with the
funding already coming from the IAM, made a significant difference to the workers.
163
Ibid.; and Daily Coordination Summary of the Joint IAM-UAW Coordinating Committee, by
the IAM Regional Office, Los Angeles, CA, No. 25, 27 February 1956, UAW Aerospace Department
164
165
Ibid.
166
Justin Ostro to Leonard Woodcock, 14 April 1956, UAW papers, UAW Aerospace
167
168
Ibid.
Fred H. Coonley to Leonard Woodcock, 9 April 1956, UAW Papers, UAW Aerospace
Department Collection, Box 19, Folder 1, ALUA; and Justin Ostro to Leonard Woodcock, 14 April 1956,
UAW papers, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 23, ALUA.
143
By mid-May, even the federal government had grown concerned about the
intractability of the strike. After a thirteen-week standstill, the Preparedness Investigating
Sub Committee of the U.S. Senate Committee on Armed Services started getting ready to
research the Republic Strike; they also considered whether to hold hearings about it.169
Aircraft workers throughout the country also focused their attention on the situation. 170
Fortunately, for everyone concerned, the strike ended after sixteen long weeks. On June 9,
the IAM ratified an agreement with Republic that contained a seven cent per hour raise,
significant upgrades in medical and accident insurance, an increase in vacation days, as
well as greater seniority rights.171 Throughout the rest of the decade, Republic and its
workers continued to have difficulties during their annual contract negotiations, but still
managed to reach agreements. In 1958, although both sides prepared for a strike that
rivaled the 1956 conflict, the two sides ironed out an accord at the last minute before a
walk-out occurred.172 The same situation occurred in 1960.173
169
Justin Ostro to Leonard Woodcock, 18 May 1956, UAW Aerospace Department Collection,
170
Ibid.
171
IAM Republic Lodge 1987 and Republic Aviation Corporation, ―Strike Settlement
Agreement,‖ circa 7 June 1956; and Justin Ostro to Irving Bluestone, 9 July 1956. Both found in UAW
172
For information about the 1958 negotiations, see and compare Daily Coordination Summary
of the Joint IAM-UAW Coordinating Committee, by the IAM Regional Office, Los Angeles, CA, No. 19,
17 February 1958; and Daily Coordination Summary of the Joint IAM-UAW Coordinating Committee, by
the IAM Regional Office, Los Angeles, CA, No. 28, 4 March 1957 [obvious typo, it should be 1958, as it
is hand stamped with a March 6, 1958 date]. Both found in UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box
13, Folder 11, ALUA.
173
In 1960, 8400 Republic workers stood ready to walkout, but after a last-minute, 46-hour,
round-the-clock negotiating session, the two sides reached an agreement. For more on this subject, see
Justin Ostro to Gordon Cole, 5 April 1960, UAW Papers, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box
17, Folder 4, ALUA.
144
When the U.S. entered the Space Age in 1957, employees of both Republic and
Grumman anticipated a time of great excitement as the country prepared to go head-tohead with the Russians to establish space-firsts. Republic quickly became a major
aerospace research facility. In 1958, the company finished building the Paul Moore
Research and Development Center, which ―became one of the best-equipped private space
research facilities in the country.‖174 It housed eight laboratories specifically dedicated to
space research.175 In the early 1960s Republic and Grumman would vie for many of the
same space contracts. Both companies prepared design studies for the Apollo Lunar
Lander (preliminary LM concepts). Republic created a single engine design that the
astronauts supposedly could have used to both land on, and take off from, the Moon.
Grumman‘s concept, which would win the NASA contract and become the driving force
of the Apollo Lunar Module, had two separate engines, one to land on the lunar surface,
the other to blast off from it. 176 The two companies also did preliminary designs for the
Apollo Command Module, which NASA eventually awarded to North American
Aviation.177 And in 1962, while Grumman busied itself building the Lunar Module,
174
175
Ibid. Republic received its first space contract in 1960. The agreement called for the design of
the first experimental Lunar Exploration Spacesuit. See Stoff, The Aerospace Heritage of Long Island, 80.
176
177
Rockwell eventually carried out a design similar to Republic‘s initial proposal for the
command module. It would become one of the final studies considered by NASA for the Apollo Command
Module. See Stoff, The Aerospace Heritage of Long Island, 80.
145
Republic completed research on Project Fire, a stability study of the Apollo Command
Module‘s heat shield.178
But for many Grummanites, the history of the era also meant something a little
more, particularly when they remembered what had happened to their neighbors and
friends who worked at Republic. Although Republic employees had made some solid gains
after they formed a union in 1956, for many Grummanites, those gains had come at too
high a cost. When some former Republic workers—or ―union refugees,‖ as one
Grummanite called them—came to work for Grumman, these new workers stressed that
their former company ―was ruined by unions.‖179 For loyal workers, Grumman represented
a different type of company than Republic. Because Grumman took care of its employees,
Grummanites felt that they did not need a union, particularly if it would create the type of
ill will that the unionization process had caused between management and labor in
178
Project Fire obtained ―research data during atmospheric re-entry at hyperbolic velocities.‖
According to Long Island aviation historian Josh Stoff, the project demonstrated ―the stability of the
Apollo CM shape and to test the proposed heat-shield at lunar return speeds,‖ Stoff, The Thunder Factory,
157 and 159. For more on the project, see Stoff, The Aerospace Heritage of Long Island, 80-81. Some of
Republic‘s other notable space contracts included: the 1964 design for the interior of the Air Force‘s
Manned Orbiting Laboratory; the 1964 contract for developing an Advanced Orbiting Solar Observatory
to study sunspots, solar flares and other high energy radiation; a 1973 plan for the Space Shuttle Orbiter‘s
vertical tail; and the infamous design of Skylab‘s toilet, which cost $17 million and received the moniker
―astrojohn.‖ For details on all of these projects, see and compare Stoff, The Thunder Factory, 159, 162,
and 164; and Stoff, The Aerospace Heritage of Long Island, 80-81.
179
The first quote is from former Grummanite Eugene Coll, whereas the second is from former
Grummanite Michael Hlinko. See Eugene Coll Survey/Questionnaire, 27 January 2000; and Michael
Hlinko Survey/Questionnaire, 22 December 1999. Both in the author‘s possession. For more
Grummanites who agree that Grumman employees viewed unions negatively because of what happened at
Republic, see Bertram H. Dawkins, Jr., Survey/Questionnaire, 12 July 2000; Elsie M. Barone,
Survey/Questionnaire, 17 November 1999; George L. Daelemans, Jr., Survey/Questionnaire, 31 January
2000; Laurence Van Wallendael, Survey/Questionnaire, 7 February 2000; and N. Roy Tegner,
Survey/Questionnaire, 20 January 2000, all in the author‘s possession.
146
Farmingdale. The organization of Republic served as a warning for Grummanites about
the downside of unionization.
First Attempts to Organize Grumman
After they lost the battle to organize Republic, the Auto Workers remained
determined to secure a major aircraft company on Long Island. The UAW set its sights
on Republic‘s neighbor, Grumman; the union had eyed the Bethpage manufacturer since
the late 1940s. In August 1948, the organization published its first internal research report
about the firm, based on an article in Fortune magazine, as well as information from the
Bureau of Labor Statistics and Moody‘s Industrial Statistics.180 Although an internal
UAW research file, the report still contained much of the same unsuccessful language that
had not worked for the Auto Workers during their Republic campaign—a capital vs. labor
argument, with a radical inflection. In essence, the report represented the Auto Workers‘
rather cut-and-dried view of Grumman, its wealth, and its labor relations, and it underlined
the UAW‘s obvious desire to organize the company.181
The report opened with the following passage: ―The deafening roar of the airplane
and the satisfied purr of the fat profit cat are two common place [sic] sounds out in Long
Island where the Grumman plant is located. This company‘s planes are beautiful but its
180
Research and Engineering Department of the UAW-CIO, ―Grumman Aircraft, 16 August
1948, 1, UAW Research Department Collection, Box 113, Folder 21, ALUA.
181
One major flaw in the UAW‘s study revolved around the fact that it kept comparing aircraft
workers‘ pay with that of Grumman executives, even though it only used general statistics about aircraft
workers around the country, not Grumman employees specifically. It also only used general family budget
estimates for workers in New York. In other words, it did not specifically note what Grumman workers
were actually paid at this time. See, Research and Engineering Department of the UAW-CIO, ―Grumman
Aircraft, 16 August 1948, UAW Research Department Collection, Box 113, Folder 21, ALUA.
147
profit picture is breathtaking. Between 1939 and 1947 Grumman increased its net worth
by $23 million, or 1,175%. At the end of 1947, Grumman was worth more than $25
million. In 1939, its net worth was only $2 million.‖182 The commentary went on to note
that the firm‘s stockholders had only held approximately 5% of the investments that made
up Grumman‘s total net worth. It claimed that subsidies from the U.S. government, and
by extension the American taxpayers, constituted the remaining balance of the company‘s
investments. In other words, the UAW believed that Grumman stockholders had grown
rich on government contracts at the taxpayers‘ expense. After all, the federal government
had subsidized the building of the company‘s plants and furnished them with equipment.
But what had Grumman given back to its workers?, the report asked.183
Another section of the UAW‘s commentary took special care to detail how much
profit the company‘s founders had garnered during the war effort. Even though the
corporation had started on a shoestring budget of $64,000, it had become a multi-million
dollar company by World War II.184 Leroy Grumman, the company‘s Chairman of the
Board, who had initially invested $16,950 in 1928, acquired more than 50,000 shares in
the company when the firm‘s dividends skyrocketed, and by 1948, those shares‘ worth
rested at approximately $2 million.185
182
Research and Engineering Department of the UAW-CIO, ―Grumman Aircraft,‖ 16 August
1948, 1, UAW Research Department Collection, Box 113, Folder 21, ALUA.
183
Ibid., 1-2.
184
Ibid., 4.
185
Ibid. The report also stated the following 1928 initial investments: the Loening Brothers at
$30,000; Leon A. Swirbul, had made a $8,125 investment; and William T. Schwendler, Edmund W. Poor,
and E. Clinton Towl, had pooled their funds for a combined total of $9,250.
148
In the area of labor relations, the report took the issue of paternalism head on,
outlining instances in which the company could appear to have abused its authority.
―Grumman‘s labor policy may at best be described as paternalism,‖ the report began.186 It
also stated:
Fortune, in an article on the Grumman Aircraft Co., relates
an incident which apparently reflects the company‘s labor
relations philosophy. A foreman one day complained to
higher supervision that some of the workers were lingering
too long in the washroom. Whereupon, the company hired a
man whose only job was to mop up the washroom all day
long. A top management spokesman commented ‗the men
respect you when you outsmart them like that.‘!!!187
The report also vaguely described a Grumman wartime incentive plan, and dismissed its
value, insisting that ―the UAW‘s experience with incentive plans would lead us to be
extremely suspicious of them, and particularly of one imposed on the workers unilaterally
by management.‖188
More than ten years after the UAW‘s initial research report on Grumman, and
several years after it had lost Republic to the IAM, the Auto Workers began gearing up to
start an organizing campaign at Bethpage. In preparation for the drive, union leaders in
Detroit asked the UAW‘s Research Department for a final financial accounting of
186
Ibid., 5
187
Ibid. The UAW‘s report also noted: ―Everyone knows a father can be arbitrary. At war‘s end,
Grumman fired every one of its employees, and then ‗hired back those it wanted‘ (Fortune). Because
Grumman workers have no union they also have no seniority rights. There is nothing to prevent a
recurrence of this ‗fatherly‘ action.‖ On this issue, Drew Fetherston, of Newsday, said: ―They asked
supervisor and foreman to draw up lists of essential workers. When peace arrived, they fired the entire
work force then rehired 5,000 within 10 days.‖ The article is reprinted on the Grumman Park Memorial
website, see Drew Fetherston, ―Pioneers on the Runway: Raising Grumman,‖ a reprint from Newsday,
Grumman Memorial Park, accessed 4 July 2006, http://grummanpark.org/runway1.htm.
188
Ibid., 6.
149
Grumman.189 The December 22, 1958 report noted that although the aircraft
manufacturer‘s sales had fluctuated wildly since World War II, it had remained a very
profitable company. During the 1950s, for example, Grumman‘s average annual sales
stayed close to $7 million, which equated to about an 18% return on the company‘s
investment—a very high rate of return.190 The report stressed that many of Grumman‘s
profits had come not only from its major military contracts, but also its diversification into
the commercial market; the company‘s Gulfstream (a top-selling corporate jet), and the
new Ag-Cat (a small agricultural crop dusting plane), had helped boost Grumman‘s
commercial sales.191 UAW researchers also noted that Grumman not only had a main plant
in Bethpage, but also some small facilities in Calverton, NY, and Stuart, FL, as well as
some smaller subsidiaries in Marathon, NY (Grumman Boats, Inc.) and Athens, NY
(Aerobilt Bodies, Inc), which produced aluminum truck bodies and trailers. 192
Organized labor's attempts to unionize Grumman began in early 1959,
approximately twenty-one months before the aerospace company even received its first
major space contract (for the OAOs). On January 15, 1959, the UAW had some of its
members from a local company called Micro Metallic start distributing fliers and union
189
Irving Bluestone and Emily Rosdolsky, ―Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation,‖ 22
December 1958, UAW Research Department Collection, Box 113, Folder 21, ALUA.
190
Ibid., 2-3. The company‘s all-time sales peak, up to this point, was in 1954. It went through a
significant decline through 1956 during the downsizing after the Korean War. However, the company still
managed to make a sizable profit each year.
191
Ibid., 1.
192
Ibid., 1-2.
150
authorization cards outside the main gate at the Bethpage plant.193 The leaflets, simply
entitled ―Greetings,‖ and labeled Volume 1, Number 1, claimed that many Grummanites
had asked the UAW about the possibility of conducting an organizational drive in
Bethpage.194 The fliers—specifically published for Grumman employees—went on to note
that the UAW had begun such a campaign. Workers could help the drive succeed, the
leaflets stressed, by signing their union authorization cards and giving them to the UAW
Long Island Organizing Committee located in Mineola. That action would allow the Auto
Workers to go to the NLRB and force an election. 195 Many Grummanites—in spite of
their reputation for harboring strong anti-union sentiments—courteously accepted the
leaflets, while others tore them up and threw them into the air.196 Fortunately for the Auto
193
For information about the beginning of the organizing campaign, see and compare ―They Said
It Couldn‘t Be Done,!‖ Vol. 1, No. 2, UAW, AFL-CIO Flier, Published for the Employees of Grumman
Aircraft Engineering Corp., by the International Union United Automobile, Aircraft and Agricultural
Implement Workers of America (UAW, AFL-CIO), Bethpage, NY, February 1959; ―Greetings,‖ Vol. 1,
No. 1, UAW, AFL-CIO Flier, Published for the Employees of Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corp., by
the UAW Organizing Committee, Mineola, NY, January 1959; Daniel House to Charles H. Kerrigan,
March 5, 1959; and ―Grumman Employes,‖ [sic], Long Island Press, circa 15 January 1959. All found in
UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
194
The UAW published 10,000 fliers at the outset. ―Greetings,‖ Vol. 1, No. 1, UAW, AFL-CIO
Flier, Published for the Employees of Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corp., by the UAW Organizing
Committee, Mineola, NY, January 1959, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
195
A Long Island Press article stated that UAW officials wanted to get at least 50 % of the
employees to sign cards before asking for an NLRB election, otherwise: ―If the union asked the NLRB for
a vote—and lost it—it could delay Grumman unionization for many years.‖ See ―Grumman Employes,‖
[sic], Long Island Press, circa 15 January 1959, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
196
On Grummanites‘ positive reception of the UAW‘s handouts see and compare ―They Said It
Couldn‘t Be Done,!‖ Vol. 1, No. 2, UAW, AFL-CIO Flier, Published for the Employees of Grumman
Aircraft Engineering Corp., by the International Union United Automobile, Aircraft and Agricultural
Implement Workers of America (UAW, AFL-CIO), Bethpage, NY, February 1959, UAW Region 9A
Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA. The negative reception of such information by Grummanites is
recalled in a 1989 letter to the Grumman History Center from former Grummanite Elmer Evans, who
noted the following about the situation: ―Employees would often take these, tear them up and throw the
pieces in the air, then drive in, park and smugly proclaim that they didn‘t need a union.‖ For more on this
issue, see Elmer Evans to Louis Lovisolo, 19 April 1989, ―Unionization (Articles),‖ Section A-19, NGHC.
151
Workers, some Grummanites returned their authorization cards to the UAW office. For
union officials, that action suggested that some Grummanites knew the advantages of
organizing.197
Initially, UAW officials must have been heartened when the authorization cards
started arriving at their office. But the cards were unsigned and Grummanites had also
attached extraordinary notes to them. Many Grummanites asked the same pointed
question: "Why do Grumman Workers need a Union?"198 For UAW officials, who wanted
to force an NLRB-supervised election, the workers‘ questions demonstrated
Grummanites‘ well-known resistance to organizing; their inquiries also revealed just how
far UAW officials would have to go to sway the aerospace workers. It appeared that the
Auto Workers had to prepare for a long siege.
The UAW attempted to address Grummanites‘ questions about the need for a
union directly in a February 1959 newspaper published especially for them. Reaching back
into history and tenuously tapping the ideal of patriotism, union officials simply noted that
Another Grummanite, Eugene Coll, a draftsman and design specialist who worked on the LM,
remembered telling union pamphleteers ―to get a real job.‖ See Eugene J. Coll, Survey/Questionnaire, 27
January 2000, in the author‘s possession. And Bill Ptucha, a designer of automated systems for the F-14,
remembered that such ―leaflets were tossed away immediately.‖ See William (Bill) Ptucha,
Survey/Questionnaire, 19 November 1999, in the author‘s possession.
197
See and compare ―Greetings,‖ Vol. 1, No. 1, UAW, AFL-CIO Flier, Published for the
Employees of Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corp., by the UAW Organizing Committee, Mineola, NY,
January 1959; ―They Said It Couldn‘t Be Done!,‖ Vol. 1, No. 2, UAW, AFL-CIO Flier, Published for the
Employees of Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corp., by the International Union United Automobile,
Aircraft and Agricultural Implement Workers of America (UAW, AFL-CIO), Bethpage, NY, February
1959; and Daniel House to Charles H. Kerrigan, 5 March 1959. All found in UAW Region 9A
198
―They Said It Couldn‘t Be Done!,‖ Vol. 1, No. 2, UAW, AFL-CIO Flier, Published for the
1959, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
152
America‘s founding fathers' recognized that ―in Union there is strength.‖ 199 The UAW also
interpreted the establishment of the United States as the effort to form ―a more perfect
union‖ and finished with the rather vague conclusion that ―it is our belief that what is good
for America is good for labor; and conversely, that labor has much to contribute to the
future, continuing improvement of the general welfare of all Americans.‖200
Another UAW publication enumerated vast statistics about Grumman and the
aerospace industry in general. The Auto Workers intended that the study would give
Grummanites an idea where their wages and benefits stood in comparison with the
industry nationwide.201 Charles Kerrigan, the UAW Director of Region 9A (Grumman‘s
region) had written a special letter inserted into the report, which anticipated the workers‘
belief in the company‘s generosity. He wanted Grummanites to understand that: ―while
both you and we recognize that Grumman has generally followed, (sometimes belatedly),
the broad section of the Aircraft Industry, which is organized (over 93%), this detailed
analysis helps to point out certain very real differences which exist between your
conditions of employment and those provided for under union contract.‖ 202 Kerrigan
referred to the fact that Grumman often ―followed,‖ or matched, the raises at neighboring
199
Ibid.
200
Ibid.
201
Report Prepared for the Major Collective Bargaining Negotiations in the Aircraft Industry in
1960 (Edition Prepared for Grumman Workers) by the UAW Research Department, circa 1960, UAW
Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
202
Ibid. See the inserted letter by Charles Kerrigan.
153
companies like Republic by offering Grummanites the same increases.203 He went on to
argue that even though government contracts basically underwrote the aircraft industry,
the only way for workers to guarantee their jobs, wages, and benefits, was by voting to
bring in the union.204 The report tried to defuse Grummanites‘ concerns about unions
―ruining‖ business by concluding that while Grumman had gone through some sales
fluctuations, it had always remained very profitable, and its outlook seemed quite good.
The UAW wanted to get workers to believe that a union could help them share in those
profits.205
Overall, the UAW‘s publication and handouts for Grummanites during this time
period were a mixed bag; some contained the same ―high-minded‖ language about the
value of unions and the UAW in general (language which had failed during the Auto
Workers‘ Republic campaign), whereas others contained a much more practical approach
203
Elmer Evans, a former Grummanite noted in a 1989 letter to the Northrop Grumman History
Center that the company always watched the raises other local aerospace companies gave their workers,
and when those increases were announced, Grumman would match them, but only afterward. Justin Ostro
noted the same thing. In an interview in November 2006, he claimed that every time the IAM renegotiated
a contract with Republic, Grumman would match Republic‘s concessions, benefits and wage increases, to
keep workers happy. For more on these issues, see and compare Elmer Evans to Louis Lovisolo, 19 April
1989, ―Unionization (Articles),‖ Section A-19, NGHC; and ―Notes from Phone Interview with Justin
Ostro,‖ 28 November 2006, in the author‘s possession. Furthermore, several of the Grummanites who
participated in the survey/questionnaire for this study also stressed the fact that Grumman matched other
companies‘ raises. See Daniel J. Carroll, Survey/Questionnaire, 17 November 1999; Eugene J. Coll,
Survey/Questionnaire, 27 January 2000; James Panos, Survey/Questionnaire, 24 April 2000; Raymond R.
Russo, Survey/Questionnaire, 27 January 2000; and William F. Kiesel, IV, Survey/Questionnaire, undated
(circa November1999 – April 2000), all in the author‘s possession.
204
See the inserted letter by Charles Kerrigan in Report Prepared for the Major Collective
Bargaining Negotiations in the Aircraft Industry in 1960 (Edition Prepared for Grumman Workers) by the
UAW Research Department, circa 1960, 3, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
205
UAW Research Department, ―Report Prepared for the Major Collective Bargaining
Negotiations in the Aircraft Industry in 1960 (Edition Prepared for Grumman Workers),‖ circa 1960, 2,
154
that focused on bread-and-butter issues, matters that the workers could identify with on an
individual basis. In other words, the fliers and publications demonstrate that the UAW was
still searching for the best tactical appeal to reach Grummanites; some emphasized ―this
will put money in your pockets‖ arguments, while others stressed ―this is the UAW, it‘s
great and you should join us and we‘ll take care of you‖ stories.
One key 1960 flier from the UAW Organizing Committee tried to straddle both
sides of these issues, even though it fell short on specifics. It addressed the issues of
―Merit Review‖ vs. ―Automatic Progression.‖206 The flier claimed: ―It is common
knowledge that the overwhelming majority of UAW members have guaranteed rates of
pay…because they have automatic progression.‖207 The UAW deemed Grumman‘s system
of ―Merit Review‖ a ruse because it allowed the bosses to determine, arbitrarily, if a
worker deserved a pay raise. But with the UAW‘s automatic progression system, the Auto
Workers argued, a worker received guaranteed pay raises at predetermined times and
levels. The flier concluded that it usually took only ninety days to six months for UAW
union workers to advance to the top rate of pay in their jobs. 208 Overall, the Auto
Workers‘ language had begun to lean toward the utilitarian rather than the theoretical, a
shift away from the arguments they had used during the Republic campaign. Such
language suggests that the UAW had learned its lesson and had begun to try to appeal to
Grummanites with practical arguments instead of higher-minded communitarian positions.
206
UAW Organizing Committee, Hicksville, New York ―Merit Review at Grumman…‖ circa
207
Ibid.
208
Ibid.
155
Then again, a June 1961 letter from UAW Headquarters in Detroit revealed the
Auto Workers‘ limited thinking about what Grummanites really needed during this period.
The correspondence, directed to the UAW‘s head organizer in the Bethpage area, noted
that headquarters had sent six topical pieces for the ―Volunteer Organizers‘ Handbook,‖
which included: (1) ―Who is the UAW?‖; (2) ―Who Runs the UAW?‖; (2A) ―Facts about
the International Union‖; (3) ―What about Dues?‖; (4) ―How Contracts are Negotiated‖;
(5) ―The Right to Strike‖; and (6) ―When Can We Strike?‖209 Other topics included: (A)
―Principles contained in Pension Plans‖; (B) ―UAW Insurance Provisions‖; (C) ―Your
Right, under Law, to Organize‖; and (D) ―Supplemental Employment Benefit Plans and
What They Mean.‖210 These general pieces apparently comprised the heart of the UAW‘s
field manual in Bethpage. While UAW managers in Detroit offered to develop specific
topics for Grummanites, they needed to know which types of arguments had succeeded in
the field before they could proceed; they needed feedback on the situation. However, the
UAW archives remain silent about the issue of whether they ever received any information
from the field. Consequently, as the Auto Workers moved toward a full-fledged campaign
in Bethpage, it appears that they had only very general information about the best ways to
appeal to Grummanites.211
209
Joseph Tuma to Forest Innis, 12 June 1961, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31,
210
Ibid.
211
Ibid.
ALUA.
156
One other UAW flier from this period reveals the Auto Workers‘ attempts to
stress the importance of the need for a union to Grummanites through a logical, and yet
subtle, argument.212 The leaflet suggested that if the workers organized, they could share
in the company‘s wealth. One section stressed that ―Nobody‘s Mad at Anybody!‖, alluding
to the idea that Grummanites wondered why the UAW thought they had grown upset with
management and stood ready to join a union.213 Management, the flier argued, was not
evil per se, but had simply gotten too caught up in the daily challenges of running the
business to have time to deal with the workers; obviously, a union like the UAW could
force management to take time to listen to employees‘ concerns.214 The flier stressed the
UAW‘s democratic nature by noting its members decided who ran the union and who
became Shop Stewards.215 It mentioned that employees should not consider themselves
disloyal if they joined a union; most professionals had their own types of unions, after all,
such as the American Medical Association and the American Bar Association. The leaflet
also noted that government studies had revealed that not belonging to a union cost the
average worker $32 a month, and that money went directly into the bosses‘ pockets.216
212
Although this two page flier does not give a specific publication date, it is a circa 1960-1963
document based on some of the photos and issues contained in certain sections. See UAW Organizing
Headquarters Flier, by the UAW Organizing Headquarters of Hicksville, NY, circa 1960-1963, UAW
213
UAW Organizing Headquarters Flier, by the UAW Organizing Headquarters of Hicksville,
NY, circa 1960-1963, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
214
Ibid.
215
Ibid.
216
Ibid. The Auto Workers floated this idea to answer workers who questioned whether they
would save any money by joining the UAW after paying union dues.
157
Finally, just for good measure, the UAW‘s flier also mentioned that Presidents Kennedy
and Eisenhower had both supported unions.217
One key theme that emerged in the UAW‘s Grumman publications revolved
around the company‘s culture of paternalism; that culture became the main obstacle
standing in their way of organizing the firm. As one of the UAW‘s early newspapers had
noted, many churches throughout American history, and even the nation‘s Founding
Fathers, had pointed out the dangers of paternalism. With that in mind, the UAW asked
Grummanites to consider: "Just Ask Yourself what will happen when Jake Retires?"218
Jake Swirbul, Grumman‘s President, had been one of the company‘s founding fathers and
the key developer of Grumman‘s paternalism (as described fully in Chapter One). That
culture—which had fostered the strong belief among employees that the firm treated them
fairly and equally—was the main reason the company‘s rank and file had resisted the idea
of unionizing throughout the years.
At approximately the same time that the UAW began its organizing drive at
Grumman, Swirbul and his fellow managers began educating themselves about the UAW‘s
success at unionizing aircraft companies in the East. Although Swirbul felt confident that
they could hold off a union, he still showed concern and caution. An unnamed Grumman
manager researched the Auto Workers‘ unionization of the Glenn L. Martin Company.
Citing American Aviation Daily, one of the industry‘s leading publications, the author
217
218
Ibid.
―They Said It Couldn‘t Be Done!,‖ Vol. 1, No. 2, UAW, AFL-CIO Flier, Published for the
158
noted that the contract between the UAW and Martin Corporation had given the ―union a
big wedge in future contract negotiations with other aircraft companies.‖ 219 Some of the
more troubling aspects about this situation, for Grumman‘s leadership, included the fact
that the contract forced the scheduling of several significant automatic pay raises, as well
as an increase in the labor grades of several jobs previously ineligible for such increases. 220
Upper management also researched the history of some of the UAW‘s other unionization
drives at other aircraft companies to prepare for what it perceived as an upcoming
battle.221
Throughout the spring of 1960, Grumman managers and the UAW waited,
prepared, and watched each other for any major movements. Even as the Auto Workers
continued to hand out union authorization signature cards, the company suffered a huge
loss: on June 28, Jake Swirbul died of a heart attack.222 Grumman‘s ―genius at labor
relations‖ was suddenly gone. Although Swirbul had lived to see the dawn of the Space
Age, he would not be there to help Grummanites realize their contributions to the history
219
―Excerpt From American Aviation Daily: New Martin-UAW-CIO Pact Sets Up Union Shop,‖
2 January 1952, in ―Unionization (Articles),‖ Sect A-19, NGHC.
220
Ibid.
221
For example, see ―Excerpt From American Aviation Daily: Panel Findings Unacceptable to
Douglas UAW Workers,‖ 2 January 1952; and ―Excerpt From American Aviation Daily of January 4,
1952: New Fairchild-UAW Pact to Provide Modified Union Shop,‖ both in ―Unionization (Articles),‖ Sect
A-19, NGHC.
222
Richard Thruelsen, The Grumman Story (New York: Praeger Publishers, 1976), 290; and
Austin H. Perlow, ―Two Big Unions Aim to Organize Grumman Plant,‖ Long Island Press, 18 September
1961, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA. Some reported that Swirbul had
developed colon cancer earlier that year. Nevertheless, his sudden death was unexpected. For more on this
point see Drew Fetherston, ―Pioneers on the Runway: Raising Grumman,‖ a reprint from Newsday,
Grumman Memorial Park, accessed 4 July 2006, http://grummanpark.org/runway1.htm.
159
of space exploration. On the day of Swirbul‘s funeral, Grumman closed all of its plants so
that any employee who wanted to attend the service could do so. Thousands paid their last
respects at the Brookville Reformed Church in Glen Head, only a few miles from
Grumman‘s main plant.223
While Grummanites grieved, the UAW saw a chance to step up the pressure on the
Bethpage company. For union officials, Swirbul‘s death created a hoped-for cultural break
at Grumman; they saw it as an opportunity to drive a wedge between labor and
management. UAW President Walter Reuther and the union‘s national leadership sent
Forest Innis, an organizer in his 50s, to Bethpage to begin a full unionization campaign. 224
The soft-spoken Innis, one of the UAW‘s top field men, had helped unionize General
Motors and International Harvester, among several other companies in the U.S., Mexico,
and Canada. He had also assisted in UAW negotiations with Ford, Chrysler, Curtis
Wright, North American Aviation, Douglas, Goodyear, Bendix, and the Glenn L. Martin
223
Grumman Memorial Park, accessed 4 July 2006, http://grummanpark.org/runway1.htm. Labor relations at
Boeing had been amicable until 1947, when a new group of managers took over after company president
Phil Johnson, a founding member of the firm, died. The new managers wanted to break the union. A
major cultural shift occurred, similar to the one that occurred at Grumman following the death of Swirbul.
A key member of the founding generation of the company had passed. As IAM historian Robert Rodden
noted about Johnson: ―For years Johnson personally negotiated with the union. When the company was
small he dealt with employees in the ship in an easy man-to-man way. But with his passing a new
generation took over, with lawyers replacing engineers and bureaucrats displacing builders.‖ See Rodden,
The Fighting Machinists, 153.
224
Although several newspaper articles from January of 1962 claim that Innis was 57 at the time,
an examination of his UAW Oral History Interview reveals his date of birth as June 6, 1905, which would
make him 55 at the time he started working the Grumman campaign. For more on this issue, see and
compare, ―UAW Comes Out in the Open in Organization of Grumman,‖ Long Island Press, 7 January
1962; Harvey Aronson, ―UAW Take Tiny Steps in Big Bid at Grumman,‖ Newsday, 15 January 1962; and
Oral History Interview of Forest L. Innis, Interviewed by Jack W. Skeels, University of Michigan, Wayne
State University, Institute of Labor and Industrial Relations, 30 March 1963, 1.
160
Company.225 Within weeks, Innis had a UAW office set up above a beauty shop in the
heart of Hicksville, NY, just minutes from Grumman‘s main plant.226
Innis had originally joined the UAW when he worked for the Bendix Corporation
in South Bend, Indiana. As a Chief Steward for UAW Local 9, he took part in the famous
sitdown strikes at Bendix in 1936.227 Shortly thereafter, he began organizing for the Auto
Workers throughout Indiana and Southern Michigan, and eventually became the Assistant
Regional Director of Region 2A in the Midwest. 228 Innis then joined the UAW‘s National
Aircraft Department, where he took charge of contract negotiations.229 By the time he had
arrived in Bethpage, Innis had accumulated more than twenty-five years of organizing
experience.230 The UAW felt that it had the right man in the right spot at the right time.
225
The background story of Innis and his organization drive can be found in Harvey Aronson,
―UAW Takes Tiny Steps in Big Bid at Grumman,‖ Newsday, 15 January 1962; and Biographical Sketch:
Forest L. Innis, 22 December 1964, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 178, Folder 34, ALUA.
226
A 1962 UAW pamphlet listed the UAW‘s Hicksville Office‘s location at 174 Broadway,
Hicksville, New York. See UAW Grumman Organizing Committee, ―Your Right to Organize,‖ circa
1962, in ―Union Correspondence,‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
Innis had faced a great deal of adversity in his life. Born and raised in Indiana, he had only
attended school through the eighth grade. Around 1920, he began working for Studebaker, after already
having worked as a welder for a railroad company. When the Great Depression hit, Innis found
employment with several public works projects, but those jobs did not last long. The economic upheaval
tore him and his family apart. He had to take his daughter and go live with his parents, while his wife
went back to stay with her family. In the process, they lost their house and all of their furniture. For more
details, see and compare Biographical Sketch: Forest L. Innis, 22 December 1964, UAW Region 9A
Collection, Box 178, Folder 34, ALUA; and Oral History Interview of Forest L. Innis, Interviewed by Jack
W. Skeels, University of Michigan, Wayne State University, Institute of Labor and Industrial Relations, 30
March 1963, 1.
227
Biographical Sketch: Forest L. Innis, 22 December 1964, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box
228
Ibid.
229
Ibid.
230
Ibid.
161
From his new base of operations above the beauty shop, Innis, or ―Spike‖ as his
UAW friends called him, began a full press on Long Island‘s aerospace giant in June
1960.231 UAW organizers started driving a truck displaying union posters around
Grumman‘s main Bethpage plant on a daily basis. Innis and his colleagues also began
meeting whatever discontented Grummanites they could find in small prearranged groups
outside the plant. They mainly met in people‘s homes, and all the meetings remained
closed so as not to arouse the attention of anti-union Grummanites; company moles
became a real concern.232
Despite Innis‘s best intentions, the UAW campaign experienced a series of major
setbacks in the middle of the summer of 1960. After only a few short weeks on the job,
Innis was hospitalized with a gall bladder attack and went through a long recovery
process. The Auto Workers‘ union drive stalled. The campaign did not return to full
strength until the end of September, after Innis had fully recovered and returned to
work.233 For a few more months, the drive seemed on track, but then sometime in the
231
As one example of Innis‘s nickname, see Forrest Innis to Irving (Stone), 5 February 1961,
UAW President‘s Office Collection—Walter P. Reuther, Box 221, Folder 13, ALUA.
232
The background story of Innis and his organization drive can be found in Harvey Aronson,
―UAW Takes Tiny Steps in Big Bid at Grumman,‖ Newsday, 15 January 1962. For a letter referring to the
fear that some Grummanites had about company moles reporting their actions during this period, see
Open Letter from F. L. Innis, UAW, 12 July 1962, in ―Union Correspondence,‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
233
Innis returned to work on September 17th. For the full information on Innis‘s sick leave
period, see and compare, Forest Lowell Innis, ―Notice and Proof of Claim for Disability Benefits,‖15
September 1960; Charles H. Kerrigan to Walter P. Reuther, 19 September 1960; and Charles H. Kerrigan
to Walter P. Reuther, 22 August 1960. All found in UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 178, Folder 34,
ALUA.
162
winter of 1961, Innis suffered a heart attack, setting the Auto Workers even further
behind.234
While Innis recovered, the IAM, the UAW‘s main rival, decided it wanted to test
the waters at Grumman. Matthew DeMore, the Machinists‘s newly elected Vice President
of the New York region, declared that the IAM would start soliciting Grumman fully in
the fall of 1961.235 As DeMore told a local newspaper reporter, with just a bit of
unintended hyperbole, ―Our people on Long Island…don‘t feel it will be an easy matter.
But I can tell you this and you can publish it as a fact—eventually we will take
Grumman.‖236 DeMore‘s confidence stemmed from the IAM‘s successful campaign at
Republic, and with this in mind, he declared: ―We‘ve been on Long Island so long and
have so many members…we have a feeling we belong to Long Island and Long Island
234
One can deduce the circumstance surrounding Innis‘s heart attack by reviewing a letter from
Irving Stone. See Forrest Innis to Irving (Stone), 5 February 1961, UAW President‘s Office Collection—
Walter P. Reuther, Box 221, Folder 13, ALUA.
235
Austin H. Perlow, ―Two Big Unions Aim to Organize Grumman Plant,‖ Long Island Press, 18
September 1961, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
Although the UAW and IAM still had a ―no-raid‖ agreement in effect at this time, and they had
been cooperating with each other generally in setting up certain overarching goals for workers in the
aerospace industries, those measures did not prevent them from vying for the right to organize Grumman.
Beginning in 1959, the UAW and IAM began meeting annually to draw up general guidelines and goals
that should be followed by both unions when bargaining on the behalf of aerospace workers. Issues
included wage stability, job security, comprehensive insurance parity, as well as apprenticeship training
programs, among other subjects. For more on the two unions meeting on these issues, see and compare,
―Proceedings of the First Joint Aircraft, Missile and Related Electronics Conference, International
Association of Machinists and International Union, United Automobile, Aircraft, Agricultural Implement
Workers of America,‖ Kansas City, Missouri, August 6-7, 1959, UAW Aerospace Department Collection,
Box 27, Folder 11, ALUA; ―Unity for Family Security, Job Security, Union Security for all Aircraft and
Missile Workers,‖ by the IAM and UAW, 1958, UAW Aerospace Department Collection, Box 13,
Folder10, ALUA; and ―Two Unions Ask Pay Stability for Aircraft, Missile Workers,‖ Silvergate Union
News, Vol 8, No. 4, by the IAM, 16 February 1962, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31,
ALUA.
236
DeMore is quoted in Austin H. Perlow, ―Two Big Unions Aim to Organize Grumman Plant,‖
Long Island Press, 18 September 1961, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
163
belongs to us.‖237 Charles H. Kerrigan, the UAW‘s Regional Director of the New York
area, strongly disagreed, insisting, ―If anyone organizes Grumman it will be the UAW.‖238
For his part, Forrest Innis welcomed the competition, because ―it gets people talking
union.‖239 As the article noted, the only thing union leaders agreed on was that Swirbul‘s
death would turn a page in management and labor relations. 240 In reality, the IAM‘s entry
into the field became nothing more than a side investigation to assess its chances of
capturing Grumman if the UAW failed. Grumman managers realized that Innis and the
UAW presented the real threat to the company at the time.241
Grumman‘s management came up with several ideas about how to keep the Auto
Workers from achieving their goal including restricting them from handing out fliers and
leaflets on company property. The restriction made campaigning difficult enough for the
Auto Workers that Innis wrote Grumman‘s front office asking for permission to hand out
pamphlets in the parking lot. The distribution of such materials had become the only solid
237
Ibid.
238
September1961, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
239
Harvey Aronson, ―UAW Takes Tiny Steps in Big Bid at Grumman,‖ Newsday, 15 January
1962.
240
September1961, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
241
On the IAM‘s brief interlude into the situation, see Harvey Aronson, ―UAW Takes Tiny Steps
in Big Bid at Grumman,‖ Newsday, 15 January 1962; and ―NLRB Sets Vote at Grumman; May Be Start
of Union Drive,‖ unidentified newspaper, January 1962, in ―Unionization (Articles),‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
164
way to reach the production and maintenance workers, so Innis asked for a quick
response, but it appears that he did not get one. 242
Nevertheless, by the fall of 1961 Innis and his colleagues had started to gain
significant ground, despite his repeated absences and the pamphleteering restrictions. It
was Grumman‘s maintenance workers that gave the UAW their first glimmer of hope.
While most Grummanites still remained vehemently opposed to unions, the maintenance
workers (or operating engineers, as they were called) had become dissatisfied enough with
their jobs to begin to consider organizing.243 Some were disgruntled about the limited pay
they received for working Sundays. In a letter to Grumman President Clinton Towl, John
R. Tucker, a maintenance worker at Bethpage and a resident of Babylon, Long Island,
described the situation as he heard it from the operating engineers, since he ―work[ed]
close to the men.‖ The operating engineers ran the powerhouse, the boiler room, and the
242
F. L. Innis to J. B. Rettaleata [sic Rettaliata], 16 May 1961, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box
The UAW had its lawyers working on the problem. One group of strategies they came up with
emerged from their interpretation of the Supreme Court case Babcox v. Wilcox, which ―indicated that it
would be an unfair labor practice for an employer to prevent non-employee union organizers from
distributing literature on its parking lots, if it is the only means of reaching the employees of the plant.‖
The strategy, as the lawyers noted, would be to force the NLRB to intervene with an unfair labor practice
issue and force them to issue an order. To do that, the UAW would have to show that: the parking lots
were the only accessible way to reach the employees; there were no sidewalks adjacent to the company
parking lots where the literature could be distributed; the union did not have the addresses and phone
numbers of the employees; the union did not have any members inside the plant; and the employees were
spread out over a far enough area so that the union could not contact them via mail, phone, or by personal
contact. Some of the lawyers believed they could create an NLRB test case by either asking for the
company‘s permission to distribute fliers and being turned down, or actually just distributing the fliers in
the parking lot and getting turned away. Of course, the lawyers noted, it would be best if the UAW could
just get employees to hand out fliers on their own free time, as the rules affecting employees, were entirely
different than those affect non-employees. For more on these issues, see ―Opinion—In Re: Babcox v.
Wilcox‖ by Benjamin Rubenstein, circa 1961, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
243
―NLRB Sets Vote at Grumman; May Be Start of Union Drive,‖ unidentified newspaper,
January 1962, in ―Unionization (Articles),‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
165
refrigeration/air-conditioning departments at Grumman‘s Bethpage and Peconic plants.
Tucker explained that they worked six straight days a week, either Monday through
Saturday or Tuesday through Sunday, on a rotating basis. If an employee worked a
Sunday, he would normally receive time-and-a-half pay. If a maintenance worker missed a
day of work during one of the five days preceding his Sunday rotation, however, he only
received a regular day‘s pay. Surprisingly, this issue became the main reason some
maintenance workers began to consider forming a union, according to Tucker.244
Slowly, throughout the fall of 1961, more of the approximately 170 operating
engineers began signing a petition authorizing the UAW to collectively bargain on their
behalf. As Innis and Grumman‘s management both realized, if at least 30% of them added
their signatures to the cause, that action would force a NLRB-supervised election—the
first in the company‘s history.245
Faced with the threat of having to endure the company‘s first union election,
Grumman managers produced a very pointed letter to give to the operating engineers and
all of the company‘s employees and stockholders. The document, dated October 5, 1961,
addressed Innis‘s pro-union arguments directly, while also stressing the paternalistic
244
John R. Tucker, Jr, to E. Clinton Towl, 1 November 1961, ―Union Correspondence from
Employees to E.C.T. (not acknowledged),‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
245
The actual number of employees who worked these maintenance jobs varies among newspaper
reports. Based on a survey of all of these materials, the actual number seemed to rest somewhere around
160 to 170, although some newspapers reported the number as low as 150. On this subject, see and
compare, Harvey Aronson, ―UAW Takes Tiny Steps in Big Bid at Grumman,‖ Newsday, 15 January
1962; ―NLRB Sets Vote at Grumman; May Be Start of Union Drive,‖ unidentified newspaper, January
1962, in ―Unionization (Articles),‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC; and ―UAW Comes Out in the Open in
Organization of Grumman,‖ Long Island Press, 7 January 1962. For information on the type of workers
who signed the petition, see ―NLRB Sets Vote at Grumman; May Be Start of Union Drive,‖ unidentified
newspaper, January 1962, in ―Unionization (Articles),‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
166
nature of the company. The letter began: ―In order to help you to an informed opinion as
to the way you should vote, I am giving you in this letter some information of which you
probably have only an imperfect knowledge.‖ It enumerated several key points from the
company‘s view. One section noted all the ―fringe benefits‖ employees received, which
included contributions to a pension plan, a Christmas Bonus, a Christmas Turkey, paid
vacations, paid holidays, a contribution toward an employees‘ group health insurance plan,
as well as funding employee medical appointments at some specialty hospitals such as the
Mayo Clinic. In all, these benefits represented the equivalent of about eighty-three cents
per hour, per employee, and acted as a supplement to every worker‘s paycheck.246
The letter also played upon workers‘ identification of the interests of the company.
If wages increased to the point that unions wanted, management argued, costs would rise
significantly, which in turn would make Grumman less attractive when competing for
government contracts, and if Grumman got fewer contracts, that would mean fewer jobs
and more layoffs. In closing, the document argued that Grumman management and labor
had always gotten along; unions only tried to cause antagonism between the two parties.
Nevertheless, Grumman managers wanted its employees to know, the company would not
retaliate against any employees that voted for a union. 247
The letter had the desired effect, eliciting some strong responses from
Grummanites, overwhelmingly in the anti-union column. A few days after the missive first
circulated, Grumman President Clinton Towl, the letter‘s signatory, began receiving
246
Letter (Draft), and notes ―The Points to Stress in Spreading the Company Position,‖
unidentified author, 5 October 1961, in ―Unionization (Articles),‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
247
Ibid.
167
several extraordinary letters from former and current employees declaring their allegiance
to the company, their strong anti-union sentiment, and much more. Several also took the
opportunity to let Towl know that the company needed to improve significantly in certain
areas, however. Despite Grumman‘s supposedly well-known ―Open Door‖ policy (under
which any Grummanite could bring a problem to anyone in the company, either personal
or professional), these letters reveal that some workers obviously did not feel that their
grievances had been heard. They stand out as excellent examples of the mindset of
Grummanites at the time.
Eugene Notturno, an employee from West Babylon, Long Island, denounced the
idea of a union, but he also complained vehemently that employees had no real
opportunity to redress their grievances. ―From your letter I get the impression that you
beleive [sic] all is peaches and cream between supervision and labor in our organization?‖
he wrote. ―Well I think different.‖ He argued that the creation of a company grievance
committee would actually help in keeping unions away from the Bethpage plant. Notturno
asserted:
I heartily agree that a union can not [sic] improve our lot, as
it is, we have most of the advantages of a union, and none
of it‘s [sic] disadvantages, no doubt that they could give us
a few fringe benefits, but certainly not enough to make up
for the losses. NO, WE DEFINITELY DO NOT WANT A
UNION...BUT ........
In the last paragraph, you [sic] mention of the
―successful practice of solving internal problems.‖
successful [sic] for whom? Supervision does the talking and
the workers do the listening, [the] worker has no redress, no
one to tell his side of the story to. I don‘t NEED or WANT
representation, but it would be comforting to know that
168
there is a GRIEVANCE committee to turn to if I had a
legitimate gripe.248
Notturno indicated his dissatisfaction with the merit pay system, a
key union argument about the arbitrariness of Grumman‘s paternalism.
―Foremen are of very little help, they are the ones that made a mockery of
the word ‗MERIT,‘‖ he insisted. ―A man can be a very good worker,
which can mean nothing if your foreman does not like you, all he need say
of you is ‗WORK UNSATISFACTORY,‘ and that‘s it, that brings him the
results he wants, his word is always taken above the worker‘s.‖ He
reiterated his opposition to unionization, and closed by noting ―I realize
I‘m sticking my neck out with this letter, [but] loyalty prompted me.‖249
An October 27 letter from William F. Partridge, a Grumman middle manager from
Seaford, Long Island, and a twenty-one year company veteran, agreed almost completely
with Notturno‘s missive. Partridge‘s forceful prose detailed how some workers felt
unappreciated by upper-level managers, suggesting that management‘s inattention might
actually open the door for unions to come through. ―It is fine for top executives to sit in
the lofty branches of the Grumman tree, supported by the sturdy branches of managers,
supervisors, foreman, etc. and speak of present business, prospective new business, broad
employment benefits, etc.,‖ Partridge wrote. ―But there seems to be little evidence that
Grumman top management is cognizant of, or understand [sic] the many small problems of
248
Eugene Notturno to E. Clinton Towl, 29 October 1961, ―Union Correspondence from
249
Ibid.
169
the individual workers that are gnawing at the roots of that tree.‖ Partridge let Towl
know that his letter to the workers had ―Missed-the-boat as far as carrying a personal
message to each and every employee in Grumman.‖ He intended his correspondence to be
a wake-up call to forestall unions. He also argued for the creation of a ―Shop Steward‖ so
that workers could really air out their problems, and Grumman could stop unions. ―This, I
believe is the basic problem that Grumman Management has to face, and solve, if they
intend to ward off the Union infiltration,‖ he concluded. 250
Even when it appeared workers had every right to be furious with Grumman, they
were not, as witnessed by John H. Byrne‘s October 30 letter. Byrne, a former employee,
suggested that while Grumman might have had some serious problems with worker
seniority at the time (as Forrest Innis had claimed), even workers who had lost their
seniority still retained a particularly strong sense of loyalty to the company. Byrne‘s letter,
which reveals the paternalistic hold the company had on many workers, described his own
particular circumstances.
On October 16, 1959, I was laid off with one hours [sic]
notice, for reasons, beyond me, is a mystery [sic]. I was
assigned to Dept 40 (Plant 2) for ten and one-half years
under Foreman John Kost. To my best knowledge my work
was always above pass, very little or no absenteeism, or
lateness. At that time I was 67 years old with but a short
time to go before retirement. Being laid off at such a time,
caused the loss of a bonus at Xmas [sic] and the thought of
trying to secure employment at that age (67). Age to me
means nothing as I honestly and true fully [sic] believe that I
250
William F. Partridge to Clinton E. [sic] Towl, 27 October 1961, ―Union Correspondence from
170
can uphold my end with men, many, many years my
junior.251
Amazingly, Byrne acknowledged that he knew that a union would have
protected his seniority, yet he pronounced himself still opposed to
unionization. His letter‘s main aim was to improve Grumman, ―a fine place
to work.‖252 ―I mention this to you[,] Mr Towl[,] to show that job security
doe[s] not hold in Grumman‘s present plan,‖ he wrote. 253
John R. Tucker, a maintenance worker in Bethpage Plant 2 and a resident of
Babylon, Long Island, believed that the UAW had prodded Grummanites to view their
work situations more harshly, in order to gain support for unionization. Tucker had
originally started working for Grumman in the 1940s, but left to try his hand at farming.
When he discovered that tilling the soil did not agree with him, however, Grumman took
him back, for which he was very grateful. Like many Grummanites, he took full advantage
of the company‘s liberal health care policy. Grumman paid for him to visit the Strang
Clinic for a medical checkup. As he suggested in a November 1 letter to President Towl,
the company‘s health care was yet another reason Grummanites wanted to keep unions
away. After relating his experience at the Strang Clinic (notably, he had been there on the
day that Jake Swirbul died), Tucker asked rhetorically, ―Can you imagine a union
251
John H Byrne to E. Clinton Towl, 30 October 1961, ―Union Correspondence from Employees
to E.C.T. (not acknowledged),‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
252
Ibid.
253
Ibid.
171
company sending its employees to New York or Rochester, Minn.?‖254 Tucker‘s letter,
like all of the correspondence sent to Towl on this subject, reveals a strong sense of
loyalty to the company.
As a stockholder—be it so small—and a loyal Grummanite.
I whole heartedly agree with you anent [sic][about] unions.
In all big organizations such as ours we are bound to
have a few dissatisfied. Unfortunately men are sometimes
unable to think for themselves and rely on outside forces to
do so for them.
My status in Gurmman [sic] is low, but my moral[e]
is the highest. . . . I do not believe, and hope, the union will
be unable to get enough sign ups to warrant a vote. 255
His letter concluded, ―If there is ever any way I can be of service to you or to the
company, please call on me. I am in the maintenance.‖256
Finally, a November 9 letter from former Grummanite Joseph W. Van Dusen, a
retiree living in Florida, simply summarized what many workers feared would happen if
the company unionized—the loss of ―friendship‖ between management and its employees.
Van Dusen believed that
the men are really being Stupid to want a union as they
don‘t know what they can lose by it—the many things that
GAEC [Grumman Aircraft Engineering Company] does for
them without any cost to themselves…. I for one[,] if I was
still working for GAEC[,] would be against it very much as
it could spoil the friendship between company and help. 257
254
John R. Tucker, Jr, to E. Clinton Towl, 1 November 1961, ―Union Correspondence from
255
Ibid.
256
Ibid.
257
Jos W Van Dusen to E. C. Towl, 9 November 1961, ―Union Correspondence from Employees
to E.C.T. (not acknowledged),‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
172
Van Dusen had attached a $50 check to his letter as a donation to the newly formed Jake
Swirbul Memorial Fund, as well as a copy of an article by Senator Barry Goldwater,
entitled ―Unions Destroy Work Incentive,‖ from the Orlando Sentinel dated November 4,
1961. Goldwater‘s article essentially echoed the anti-union argument, suggesting that
unions drive up labor costs in the U.S. and make it much easier for foreign countries to
compete against America.258
As these letters from Grummanites reveal, many employees held strong anti-union
beliefs. Although some workers felt that the company had significant progress to make
regarding employee grievances and seniority, they still remained loyal to Grumman.
Regardless of such strong company loyalty, by December 1961, UAW organizer Forrest
Innis had succeeded in persuading at least 30% of the Grumman maintenance workers to
sign his petition and force an NLRB-supervised election. As Christmas neared, NLRB
official Louis Schneider examined the petition and scheduled the election for January 18,
1962. Innis and Grumman managers would have one month to make their final cases for
or against the union. Officially, the ballot would ask Grumman‘s maintenance workers if
they wanted to join Local 30 of the International Union of Operating Engineers.
258
The article Van Dusen attached from Goldwater also argued that one of the main reasons
unions cost the country so much was because they created territorial working situations on jobs that could
have easily been handled by just one group of workers. Citing an example to support his theory,
Goldwater explains that he watched three different sets of workers in a California port, from seemingly
three different unions, unload a ship on which he was traveling. He went on to describe how two sets of
workers just sat around doing nothing while waiting for the third group to finish their part of the job. For
instance, one group would operate the fork lift to carry the merchandise from the warehouse to the dock,
while another would place chains under the freight pallets so they could be lifted, while still another
group, from a different union, would be in charge of hoisting the freight onto the ship. Goldwater argued
that this type of compartmentalized and segmented work system was the main reason unions cost the
country too much.
173
The announcement that a union vote would take place in January provoked one
last spate of employee letters in support of the company. One of the communications, a
letter from Werner Lederman, an employee from Great Neck, Long Island, revealed how
some workers tried to find creative ways to keep the union away. Lederman noted:
From conversations with fellow employes [sic] in
our department I gather that by far the largest (if not all)
percentage of men are not in favor of unionizing and I feel
strongly, [sic] that this sentiment is company-wide. Why
should a few maintenance engineers be able to cast a vote
that could eventually lead to organizing the whole
company?
Is it not possible to have an election, or some other
means of popular expression, on a much broader scale, so as
to give a larger and more diversified part of employes [sic] a
chance to voice their opinion? I am sure that would keep
things on a status quo basis.259
Lederman placed himself solidly in the anti-union camp, insisting that ―it just seems unfair
to me to see this company, with it‘s [sic] highly regarded name, to stand by waiting,
possibly, for a few to bring about major changes unwanted by most.‖260
Another Grumman employee, Sonny Pangallo, penned an open letter to rebut
Forrest Innis and the UAW just prior to the January election; notably, someone must have
reproduced it to hand out to other Grummanites, particularly given its typewritten format.
Pangallo‘s letter dramatically details how passionate many Grummanites became when
considering the possibility of a unionized company. Pangallo‘s two-page tract enumerated
the various benefits that the company‘s employees enjoyed. It argued:
259
Werner Lederman to E. Clinton Towl, 20 December 1961, ―Union Correspondence from
260
Ibid.
174
We, who are employees of Grumman are now faced with a
proposed plan to unionize. Why? Is it because Grumman is
a sweat shop? Is it because Grumman employees do not
make a living wage? Is it because we, as workers are slaves?
NO! None of these things exist or have ever existed in the
history of Grumman Aircraft. . . . Do we not have as many
benefits as fine as any Union could ever provide? In fact, do
we not have more benefits than any union could ever
provide? . . .
Show me one unionized company that provides all
year-round employment. Don‘t most companies with unions
hire and fire in accordance with work-loads or seasonal
requirements? Grumman managements‘ [sic] one aim in
business is to provide stable employment so that their
personnel can be content being able to meet their daily
financial responsibilities in living a normal life….
We regard, furthermore, the proposal of
unionization as an intrusion of the mutual respect and trust
that has existed between employee and employer since the
very beginning of Grumman. . . .
Mr. Innis, . . . you admit yourself that if Grumman
needed a Union, it would have been unionized long ago.
You infer, furthermore, that since Mr. Towl succeeded Mr.
Jake Swirbul, our need for union ―protection‖ has increased.
. . . Certainly Mr. Swirbul was a great man whose loss was
practically irreplaceable and whose shoes were near
impossible to fill. But no man has ever filled a pair of shoes
so magnificently as our Mr. Towl. He has continued in the
same understanding and intelligent tradition. He has always
kept the welfare, security and satisfaction of the workers in
mind and, we the workers, feel priviledged [sic] and proud
to refer to him as our employer. . . .
Let those who are suffering and under-paid and illfed unionize—that is their right, but leave us who did not
want the union in peace. Don‘t tell us we‘re suffering and
underpaid and ill-fed, for all we have to do is look in the
mirror.261
As Pangallo‘s letter suggests, Grumman managers should have had little to fear as the
261
NGHC.
Typewritten Letter, Sonny Pangallo, January 1962, ―Union Correspondence,‖ Sect. A-19,
175
January election approached; it appeared that the bulk of company employees remained
extremely loyal to the corporation. Grumman‘s strong sense of paternalism had created a
powerful bond between employees and management. Still, management remained
concerned as the company‘s first union vote drew near.
In an effort to make one last appeal to the maintenance workers to reject a union,
Towl addressed the upcoming election in his annual year-end address to the employees on
December 29. He opened his speech by recounting some of the company‘s new employee
benefits, including catastrophic health insurance, but then turned his attention to the
approaching union vote:
As most of you probably know, there will be an
election on January 18th to decide whether or not 169
people—in part of one of our departments—will be
represented by a union. I hope that everyone in the group
will vote and will vote with great sincerity based on
considerable thought on the subject. A vote should be made
with considered judgment—the judgment of the voter—not
of a super-imposed persuasion sponsored by a group
promoting their own interests rather than that of the fellow
voting.
After all, 169 people is a small group. Only slightly
more than 1% of all Grummanites [sic]. It would be a
damned shame if such a small percentage provided a foot in
the door that would be completely unwelcome—I am
sure—to a great majority of us.
Let me repeat that our employment stability has
been the highest in our industry so far. I do not think it
possible for any foreign go-between to improve this
stability. Our relations between people working together has
resulted in substantial benefits to all of us. Again, projecting
an outside influence into these relations cannot improve
them.262
262
NGHC.
―Speech: E. Clinton Towl,‖ 29 December 1961, ―Speeches—E.C. Towl,‖ 10-11, Sect A-8,
176
Towl reminded the workers that, from his perspective, employment stability and
cooperative worker-management relations had resulted in ―Job Security…a unique
Grumman condition that no foreign go-between can improve.‖263
A few weeks after Towl‘s address, and only days before the election, Forrest Innis
and a Grumman spokesperson verbally battled in Long Island‘s leading newspaper
Newsday. The Grumman official characterized the company‘ workforce: ―Grumman
people like it here. They stay. Our separations for all reasons—including layoffs—is and
has been…one quarter of the industry average. This sense of job security began to become
apparent many years ago and is just as strong today. A union won‘t succeed at Grumman
because the Grumman people don‘t want it.‖264 Innis, however, had a different take on the
situation; he believed that Grummanites felt concerned about their job security and
seniority rights, especially after Swirbul‘s death. Despite the odds against him, Innis
seemed determined to succeed and remained optimistic. Still, he opined, ―if Grumman
wasn‘t hard to organize, it would have been organized long ago.‖ 265
It snowed on January 18, 1962—Election Day. Grummanites from every level of
the company stood around, even after their shifts had ended, to await the outcome of the
vote; some even built a bonfire outside the polling place.266 When the NLRB
263
Ibid.
264
The quote is contained in Harvey Aronson, ―UAW Takes Tiny Steps in Big Bid at
Grumman,‖ Newsday, 15 January 1962.
265
266
See ibid.
Copies of photos from the Northrop Grumman History Center, in the author‘s possession,
show the workers waiting around for the elections results, some even outside in the snow.
177
representative announced the final tally, maintenance workers had voted 152 to 15 against
affiliating with Local 30 of the International Union of Operating Engineers.267
One week after the election, a letter signed by eighteen of the Air-Conditioning
and Boiler Room Men summed up why they had voted against organizing. The letter
simply addressed ―To all Grummanites,‖ argued:
Point one, was a grievance committee. Due to
managements [sic] open door policy such a committee is
wholly unnecessary. As for job security, it is seriously
doubted if an individual in any industry has greater security
than here a Grumman. This is due to the on-the-job training
program and an individual‘s opportunity to transfer to
another department should the demand for their craft lessen
or they become handicapped and unable to perform their
present job.
Our average wage and fringe benefits fall well above
what the union offered and unlike the union there is not
maximum rate.
Contrary to other statements made, we are
reimbursed for jury duty, vacations are based on a six day
week, we are not penalized financially or otherwise for
taking sick leave, have a pension plan to which the
employee does not contribute, double time for holidays
work. We all have various other fringe benefits such as free
Chest X-ray, eye and dental examinations to mention a few.
Promotions are based on a man‘s ability to perform
his job, not seniority alone. This encourages a man to
perform his best, maintain his individuality and not be a
number on a seniority list.
We could go on but we feel it is sufficient to point
out that at one time or another the majority of us were
members of various unions, came into Grumman with our
eyes wide open and are still here with no intention of
leaving.
In short, Local 30 or any other union can only afford
us the opportunity to forfeit these benefits and take on
267
For the final tally of the vote, see Virginia Rozycki, ―Via the Grapevine,‖ Suffolk County
News, 1 February 1962; and ―Letter from Air-Conditioning and Boiler Men to All Grummanites,‖ 24
January 1962, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
178
greater financial burdens such as: dues, assessments and loss
of bonuses. It is not a matter of what the unions can do for
us, but what we can do for them. Namely, make them more
powerful by increasing their membership and treasuries and
giving them the opportunity to say they ‗took Grumman.‘268
Two weeks after the election, former Grummanite-turned-newspaper columnist
Virginia Rozycki succinctly summarized what the outcome meant for the UAW and other
unions, and why the operating engineers had so summarily dismissed unionization. As
Rozycki noted: ―the vote was a blow, not only to the defeated local, but to other unions
hoping to organize production workers in the 14,400-man company. . . . Take it from an
ex-Rosie-the-Riveter at Grumman, union dues aren‘t tempting when a worker already
benefits from a fair management for free.‖269
On the other side of the issue, Forrest Innis claimed that he was not discouraged
by the vote. He planned to continue his push to ―organiz[e] Grumman
employees…because they asked the UAW for help in setting up a local union to establish
collective bargaining. We‘ve never turned a deaf ear to the problems of workers and we
certainly would not at Grumman simply because the job seemed big or difficult.‖ 270 Within
weeks after the vote, it became clear that Innis and the UAW had no plans to surrender.
Innis continued to tell reporters that he believed that Grummanites had no job security, no
268
―Letter from Air-Conditioning and Boiler Men to All Grummanites,‖ 24 January 1962, UAW
269
270
Virginia Rozycki, ―Via the Grapevine,‖ Suffolk County News, 1 February 1962.
Austin H. Perlow, ―Business and Labor: Federation to Map Organizing Drive,‖ Long Island
Press, 29 January 1962.
179
real wage security or equality, and no seniority rights. 271 He also asked UAW headquarters
for supplies, and they sent them in the form of multiple copies of the organization‘s main
newspaper, Solidarity, as well as in-plant organizers‘ manuals.272 Charles Kerrigan, the
UAW Region 9A Director, even wanted to record special audiotapes with a message from
UAW President Walter Reuther specifically pitched at addressing Grummanites‘ issues.273
And based on the lease that Forrest Innis signed to maintain the UAW Hicksville office
until at least June 30, 1964, it looked as if the UAW planned to keep campaigning at
Bethpage.274
But Innis and the UAW picked a difficult year to try to reinvigorate the campaign,
especially given the great discontent between aerospace workers and management across
the nation in 1962. Several companies faced strikes, or at the least the threat of a strike.
Much to the organized labor‘s disappointment, however, President John F. Kennedy
271
For Innis‘s quote, see Austin H. Perlow, ―Business and Labor: Federation to Map Organizing
Drive,‖ Long Island Press, 29 January 1962. Innis and the UAW continued to press the issues of wage
security and equality, seniority, and job security, into the summer. For more on these subjects, see and
compare ―Your Right to Organize,‖ pamphlet by the UAW Grumman Organizing Committee, circa 1962,
in ―Union Correspondence,‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC; ―This is the UAW,‖ pamphlet by the UAW Grumman
Organizing Committee, Sect. A-19, NGHC; and Open Letter from F. L. Innis, 12 July 1962, in ―Union
Correspondence,‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
During this same period, Metalworking News, a union publication, would claim, whether it was
correct or not, that the UAW had successfully signed up close to 1000 Grummanites—including
employees from a variety of jobs under the supervisory level—spilt between the company‘s two plants at
Bethpage and Calverton, New York. See ―UAW Recruits 1,000 at Grumman,‖ Metalworking News, 22
January 1962.
272
Charles H. Kerrigan to Tom Clampitt, 26 March 1962; and Joseph Tuma to Spike Innis, 6
March 1962. Both found in UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
273
Leonard Woodcock to Guy Nunn, 2 March 1962, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173,
Folder 31, ALUA.
274
Benjamin Rubenstein to Forests L. Innis, 1 May 1962, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 175,
Folder 10, ALUA.
180
intervened in many of these situations, averting strikes or forcing employees back to work
through Executive Orders and injunctions.275 Employees at North American Aviation,
Ryan Aeronautical, General Dynamics, Aerojet, Lockheed, Boeing, and even Republic, all
faced strike threats by workers.276 Kennedy‘s new and specially appointed Presidential
Aerospace Board became his main instrument for investigating the industry.277 The Board
would help ―settle‖ disputes in the aerospace sector.278 The UAW later noted, about
1962, ―in less than a year, one of the nation‘s largest, fastest growing, and most critical
industries experienced serious strikes, open hostility short of class warfare, involvement of
outside extremist groups, and unprecedented government intervention where the office of
the President of the United States was involved in seven of the ten major contracts that
275
For more on these issues see and compare, IAM and UAW, ―Report on the Aerospace Dispute
1962,‖ 1962, UAW President‘s Collection—Walter P. Reuther, Box 34, Folder 9, ALUA; and ―Draft—
Aerospace Collective Bargaining,‖ by the UAW, circa April-May 1963, UAW President‘s Collection—
Walter P. Reuther, Box 34, Folder 10, ALUA.
276
―Draft—Aerospace Collective Bargaining,‖ by the UAW, circa April-May 1963, 5, UAW
President‘s Collection—Walter P. Reuther, Box 34, Folder 10, ALUA.; and ―IAM-UAW Set Sights for
Collective Bargaining-‗62,‖ News Views, published by the Republic Lodge No. 1987 and IAM,
Farmingdale, Long Island, NY, Vol. 11, no. 1, 12 March 1962, UAW Aerospace Department Collection,
277
IAM and UAW, ―Report on the Aerospace Dispute 1962,‖1962, UAW President‘s Office
Collection—Walter P. Reuther, Box 34, Folder 9, ALUA.
The new board had direct similarities with the President‘s Missile Sites Labor Commission that
Kennedy had established with Executive Order 10964 a year earlier. It would focus on labor discontent at
missile bases and Cape Canaveral. For more on the President‘s Missile Sites Labor Commission, and
Executive Order 10964, see and compare ―NASA Labor Problems,‖ Report, by NASA, 13 July 1961 and
12 February 1962; and Julius E. Kuczma to Frederick Beebe, 5 June 1963, Suitland Documents. Both
found in NASA-69-A-2522, Box 3 ―Congressional—1964.‖
278
IAM and UAW, ―Report on the Aerospace Dispute 1962,‖ 1962, UAW President‘s Office
Collection—Walter P. Reuther, Box 34, Folder 9, ALUA.
181
were renewed in the industry.‖279 In the battle against unionization, the Grumman
Corporation had a strong ally in the Kennedy administration.
Once again, Grummanites were affected by the labor situation at Republic. If Innis
wanted to sway more workers to his side, the situation in Farmingdale made it difficult.
Problems started to arise at Republic at the end of January when union officials first
learned that workers would face serious cutbacks and layoffs due to the cancelation of the
F-105 D Thunderchief contract.280 Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara‘s decision to
create the TFX multi-service jet fighter (produced by General Dynamics) made the
Thunderchief redundant. McNamara saw no need for the different military services to have
separate planes, and the TFX program would create a joint-task fighter that every branch
of the military could use.281 With Republic only producing one plane at the time, the F105, and with the TFX set to go into operation in 1965, layoffs seemed imminent.282 The
Republic workforce would be decimated; projections placed 13,000 (out of 15,000)
Republic employees out of work by the end of the new contract date, a mass layoff that
would result in a loss of 60,000 jobs on Long Island. In an attempt to save their jobs,
279
UAW, ―Draft—Aerospace Collective Bargaining,‖ circa April-May 1963, 5-6, UAW
President‘s Office Collection—Walter P. Reuther, Box 34, Folder 9, ALUA.
280
Ever since World War II, when it became one of Long Island‘s top employers, Republic had
relied on only producing one type of aircraft. Grumman, on the other hand, had nine planes in production
at this time. For a full history of the F-105 Thunderchief, see Stoff, The Thunder Factory, 122-143.
281
For a comprehensive history of the TFX decision, see Robert J. Art, The TFX Decision:
McNamara and the Military (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1968). Also see Stoff, The Aerospace
Heritage of Long Island, 64.
282
Technically, Republic would have two more years before its Thunderchief contract concluded,
but with no new planes on the horizon, management had to start laying-off employees due to the limited
amount of work.
182
Republic workers and Long Islanders started a letter-writing campaign to President
Kennedy. By February 22, the White House reported receiving over 50,000 letters on the
subject, which many believed had been the largest single letter-writing campaign devoted
to a local issue up to that point. Nevertheless, a few hours prior to a White House‘s
announcement in support of McNamara, ninety-four Republic workers had already
received layoff notices from the company. Local, state, and national politicians with links
to New York grew very concerned about the situation; some even expressed outrage and
vowed to fight for their constituents. At that time, aerospace employees represented about
one-quarter of Long Island‘s workforce.283 Still, President Kennedy promised to stand by
McNamara and support whatever decisions he made about defense purchases.284
By early spring 1962, Republic workers decided to take action. Republic and the
IAM had been trying to reach an agreement since the beginning of March. 285 One of the
workers‘ main issues centered on unemployment benefits, particularly given the
283
This statistic is from the Franklin National Bank of Long Island‘s publication The Franklin
Letter. The publication went on to argue that things could be a lot worse for Long Island. At one time
during World War II, the aircraft industry employed almost half of the area‘s workforce. See ―Republic
Layoffs Pose No Serious Threat to Long Island‘s Well-Diversified Economy,‖ The Franklin Letter
(Special Issue), published by The Franklin National Bank of Long Island, Franklin Square, NY, Vol. 3, no
2., 26 February 1962, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
284
All of this information comes from a series of articles in News Views, published by the
Republic Lodge No. 1987 and IAM, Farmingdale, Long Island, NY, Vol. 11, no. 1, 12 March 1962, UAW
Aerospace Department Collection, Box 15, Folder 23, ALUA. For the entire story, see and compare the
following articles in News Views: ―Defense Dept. Cuts Back Production of F-105-D, 7; ―Cutback
Climaxes Feud,‖ by Bob Greene, (reprinted from Newsday 8 February 1962), 2; and ―Officials Voice
Concern, Demand Action on Layoffs,‖ page 7.
As mentioned earlier, Republic‘s President Mundy Peale was furious about the cancelation of the
F-105 program and demanded a conference with Secretary McNamara. For more details on this issue, see
footnote #121 in this chapter; and ―Notes from Phone Interview with Justin Ostro,‖ 28 November 2006, in
285
Roy R. Silver, ―Walkout Called at Republic on L.I.,‖ New York Times, 2 April 1962, UAW
183
cancellation of the F-105 contract. At the end of March, NASA had given a new $5
million contract to the Farmingdale manufacturer for two experimental spacecraft, but the
new projects only rescued engineering jobs, not those of rank-and-file employees.286 On
April 1 Republic workers went out on strike. 287 Approximately 5,500 of them crammed
into the local Levittown Arena to approve the walkout by a 16-1 margin.288 Unlike the
1956 walkout, the 1962 strike remained peaceful and orderly, with no more than ten
picketers at any one of the company‘s three gates.289
Despite a lack of violence, the strike still caused a great deal of resentment; the
two sides became locked in a bitter and contentious fight. Union officials accused the
company of stalling and not offering any real concessions, while management blamed IAM
286
Ibid.
287
Several unions were involved with, or supported, the walkout, either as strikers, or
sympathetic union workers who showed solidarity. Besides Republic IAM Lodge 1987, some of the other
unions mentioned as being involved with, or supporting the strike, included: Local 775 of the United
Association of Journeymen and Apprentices of Plumping and Pipe Fitting Industry of the United States
and Canada (AFL-CIO); Local 25 of the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers (AFL-CIO)
Local 1318 of the United Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners of America (AFL-CIO); the International
Union of Operating Engineers, Local Unions 30 and 30-A (AFL-CIO); Local 164 of the Hotel and
Restaurant Employees and Bartenders International Union (AFL-CIO); several employees of the John G.
Sharp Cafeteria and Concessionaire at Republic. For more on this issue, see Executive Order 11029,
President John F. Kennedy, 13 June 1962, accessed 2 July 2006,
http://www.lib.umich.edu/govdocs/jfkeo/eo/11029.htm.
288
Workers voted 4,792 to 617 to reject the company‘s pre-strike offer. They voted 5,273 to 340
to strike. For more on these issues, see and compare ―Report on Strike at Republic,‖ probably by Justin
Ostro, circa 4 April 1962; and ―Walkout Called at Republic on L.I.,‖ Roy R. Silver, New York Times, 2
April 1962, UAW Papers, 15-23, My Republic Files. Both found in UAW Aerospace Department
Collection, Box 15, Folder 23, ALUA
289
Justin Ostro (probable author), ―Report on Strike at Republic,‖ circa 4 April 1962, UAW
184
leaders for keeping the workers from accepting a ―perfectly fine‖ contract.290 Talks
dragged on for weeks until the beginning of June, when President Kennedy again involved
himself in the situation. On Thursday, June 7 he issued Executive Order # 11025, which
created a ―Board of Inquiry to Report on Labor Disputes Affecting the Tactical Fighter
Production Industry.‖291 The next day Republic‘s management took advantage of the
President‘s intervention and sent a letter to its workers chiding them for striking for more
than ten weeks. The missive also noted that Kennedy‘s new board would issue a report the
following week, and it would only take a few days until the President would seek an end
to the strike via an injunction under the Taft-Hartley Act. The letter closed by asking the
strikers to return to work before an inevitable injunction went into effect; after all, even
the President wanted them to get back to work.292 On Wednesday, June 13, President
Kennedy issued a second Executive Order, #11029, which ended the Republic strike for
the good of the nation‘s defense.293 Employees had to report back to work within days. 294
290
These types of bilious rhetorical battles are discussed in John J. Ryan to RAC Employees, 13
April 1962, ―Union Correspondence,‖ Section A-19, NGHC.
291
The important information about Executive Order # 11025 is contained in Executive Order
11029, which also deals with Republic (it actually amends Executive Order 11025). See Executive Order
11029, President John F. Kennedy, 13 June 1962, accessed 2 July 2006,
292
The letter actually gave a projected timeline of upcoming events. On Monday, June 11, the
Board of Inquiry would begin its work. It would report back to JFK on Thursday the 14th, and on Friday
the 15th, Kennedy would go to the Attorney General and seek and injunction. See John J. Ryan to RAC
Employees, 8 June 1962, ―Union Correspondence,‖ Section A-19, NGHC.
293
Executive Order 11029, President John F. Kennedy, 13 June 1962, accessed 2 July 2006,
294
Mundy I. Peale, to All Bargaining Unit Employees, 15 June 1962, ―Union Correspondence,‖
Section A-19, NGHC.
185
As with the 1956 Republic strike, the 1962 walkout had a profound effect on
Grummanites, from rank-and-file employees all the way up to management. For many
shop floor workers, the strike reinforced the idea that unions accomplish little besides
causing turmoil for all involved. Managers, while undoubtedly agreeing with that
assessment, had also gained a few more insights into unions during the walkout.
Throughout the strike, as a courtesy, one of Republic‘s Vice Presidents had forwarded to
Grumman‘s front office copies of all of the letters it had sent to its employees. This
allowed Grumman‘s top managers to keep track of what went on at the neighboring
company; they filed the letters away for future reference.295 Grumman managers also kept
themselves apprised of some of the discussions taking place in the U.S. House and Senate
during July 1962, as Congress considered putting together a bill to prohibit strikes at
strategic defense facilities. Grumman managers had copied several pages of congressional
testimony and placed them in their files, along with related information about the issue
from the Aerospace Industries Association.296 Overall, the 1962 Republic strike reminded
Grummanites, on all levels, about the issues and problems involved when a company
became unionized.
Despite the profound impact that Republic‘s circumstances had on Grumman‘s
decision-making, after the 1962 strike, Republic‘s effects on Long Island waned
295
Robert B. Kinkead, Assistant to the Vice President of Republic, sent copies of the letters to
Grumman. For evidence of this argument, see and compare all of the letters from Republic from April to
June 1962 in ―Union Correspondence,‖ Section A-19, NGHC.
296
Letter, and attachments (Congressional Testimony copies—i.e. copies from the Congressional
Record), Aerospace Industries Association to Industrial Relations Advisory Committee—ER and WR, 24
July 1962, ―Union Correspondence,‖ Sect A-19, NGHC.
186
considerably as its status as a major contractor and innovator in the aerospace industry
declined. With the cancelation of the F-105 contract, Republic did not have any other
aircraft in production or on the drawing board; by 1965 the Fairchild Corporation had
acquired the Farmingdale firm and remade it as the Republic Aviation Division of Fairchild
Hiller.297 A new president took over the company and Republic‘s Paul Moore Center, a
leader in aerospace research, closed. Many of the former engineers who had worked at the
center found employment at Grumman.298 After the merger, the Republic Aviation
Division of Fairchild Hiller would have little impact on Grumman, particularly in the realm
of labor relations, due mainly to its limited size and number of employees.299
Ignoring the unsuccessful 1962 Republic strike, back in Bethpage, Innis and his
UAW colleagues continued to press throughout the period, even given the difficult
atmosphere for organized labor. In December 1963, for example, the UAW‘s Grumman
campaign seemed revitalized; Innis ordered another 10,000 UAW authorization cards and
published a four-page leaflet for Grumman workers.300 The flier, complete with UAW
297
Historian Judy Rumerman notes that Fairchild acquired Republic in July 1965 and then
renamed it in September. See Judy Rumerman, ―Republic Aviation,‖ Centennial of Flight, accessed 2 July
2006, http://www.centennialofflight.gov/essay/Aerospace/Republic/Aero43.htm.
298
Stoff, The Aerospace Heritage of Long Island, 64; and Stoff, The Thunder Factory, 166.
299
In 1969, Fairchild/Republic would become one of three finalists vying to build the Air Force‘s
F-15, but at the last minute the contract went to McDonnell-Douglas, probably because Grumman had just
won the F-14 contract from the Navy a few weeks earlier and politicians and the Pentagon wanted to
spread the money around to different sections of the country. For more on this subject, see Stoff, The
Aerospace Heritage of Long Island, 65. Fairchild would eventually close its Republic Long Island plant in
1987. At that point, the plant only had approximately 3,500 employees.
300
On the number of UAW authorization cards ordered, see Letter and attachments, Francis X.
O‘ Malaria to Jean (last name not given), 19 December 1963. The four page leaflet is UAW, Grumman
Organizing Committee, Hicksville, NY, ―Let‘s Talk Union,‖ December 1963. Both found in UAW Region
9A collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
187
convention pictures, stressed the need for shorter work hours, more vacation time,
adequate medical care, and better paying pensions.301 It argued that workers ought to
share in the nation‘s extraordinary postwar prosperity:
At one time, ‗leisure‘ was the exclusive possession
of a very small and aristocratic class. Leisure was the
hallmark of the rich and wellborn. Today, however, leisure
is the possession of all the working people. Not just the
plant owner but the plant worker as well, has time for
education, sports, culture, reading, travel and family life.
This one gain by the UAW—the increase in the
leisure time of a plant worker—has been a tremendous
contribution to the American People—a contribution
without parallel in human history.302
The UAW asserted that the aerospace industry had gotten rich at the expense of its
workers and asked them to ―REMEMBER: The Aerospace industry with its high profits
guaranteed by the government can well afford to meet the just economic needs of
employees in Aerospace Industry.‖303 The flier concluded ―It‘s Time to Act Now!!‖304
That very prosperity may have worked against the union, however; in spite of Innis‘s
strong appeals, the flier probably had little impact on Grummanites, as evidenced by the
subsequent lack of movement in the UAW‘s Grumman campaign. At mid-decade,
Grummanites seemed totally uninterested in a union. Nevertheless, a group of employees
at one of Grumman‘s small subsidiaries in upstate New York felt differently.
301
UAW, Grumman Organizing Committee, Hicksville, NY, ―Let‘s Talk Union,‖ December
1963, UAW Region 9A collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
302
Ibid.
303
Ibid.
304
Ibid.
188
The UAW‘s Victory at Olson Bodies,
A Grumman Subsidiary
Aerobilt Bodies, a small division of Grumman, was located in Athens, NY about
thirty miles south of Albany on Route 9-W.305 Grumman began making aluminum truck
bodies at the Athens plant in 1949.306 Six years later, the company expanded operations
with an additional plant in West Athens, about three miles from the first factory. 307 By
1963, Grumman had decided to consolidate all of its non-aerospace related subsidiaries—
which included not only Aerobilt, but also an aluminum boat and canoe plant in Marathon,
NY, a fiberglass boat factory in Bristol, RI (The Pearson Company), and two more truck
body plants in Sturgis, MI and Sherman, TX—under one umbrella company called
Grumman Allied Industries based in Garden City, Long Island.308 JBE Olson Corporation,
a smaller corporate body of Grumman Allied, distributed the company‘s truck bodies,
which sold under the trade names of ―Kurb Side,‖ ―Kurb Van,‖ ―Kargo King,‖ and
305
―Organizational—Report,‖ attached to Letter, Francis S. O‘Mealia, UAW to Charles
Kerrigan, 15 June 1963, UAW Region 9A collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
306
―Brief and Findings,‖ United States of America, Before the National Labor Relations Board,
Division of Trial Examiners, Washington, DC, TXD-326-69, Case 3-CA-3326 and 3-CA-3326-2, Olson
Bodies, Inc., a subsidiary of Grumman Allied Industries, Inc., and International Union, United
Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural Implement Workers of America, 4, AFL-CIO, UAW Region 9A
collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
307
308
Ibid.
Technically, the merger took place on December 31, 1962. ―New Grumman Corporation,‖
Sunday Review, 24 February 1963, UAW Region 9A collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA. Also see, for
a full discussion of the merger with Aerobilt Bodies, ―Brief and Findings,‖ United States of America,
Before the National Labor Relations Board, Division of Trial Examiners, Washington, DC, TXD-326-69,
Case 3-CA-3326 and 3-CA-3326-2, Olson Bodies, Inc., a subsidiary of Grumman Allied Industries, Inc.,
and International Union, United Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural Implement Workers of
America, AFL-CIO, 5, UAW Region 9A collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA..
189
―Olsonette.‖309 Many of the same people acted as corporate officers for both Olson and
Grumman Allied.310 Although sales at Grumman Allied would decline slowly throughout
the 1960s, the division still managed to make a profit. At the beginning of 1967, the
division‘s net worth amounted to approximately $3.9 million. 311
The Aerobilt plants, or ―Olson Body Division,‖ as many contemporaries called
them, represented a very small part of the Grumman Corporation. In June 1963, only
about 270 employees worked in Athens, compared to the more than 18,200 in Bethpage
and its sister plants downstate.312 Aerobilt stood totally removed from the heart and soul
of Grumman on Long Island; nevertheless, one cannot ignore the history of labor‘s
attempts to organize Olson. Although Grummanites in Bethpage appeared virulently antiunion, their counterparts in Athens seemed fairly amenable to the idea of unionization.
Consequently, when the UAW called in the late spring of 1963, it became obvious that the
309
See ibid.
310
On May 15, 1967, Wallace B. Spielman, the President of J.B.E. Olson, also became President
of Grumman Allied. Less than two months later, on July 1, 1967, based on Spielman‘s recommendation,
all of the truck body manufacturing of Grumman Allied became a subsidiary of Olson Bodies, Inc.
According to the UAW Research Department, Olson simply became ―a trade name used for sales purposes
by the truck body operations of Grumman Allied Industries.‖ For more details on these issues, see and
compare Larry L. Heyen to Tony Merino, p. 1, 25 April 1968, UAW Research Department, Box 113,
Folder 21, ALUA. And see and compare with ―Brief and Findings,‖ United States of America, Before the
National Labor Relations Board, Division of Trial Examiners, Washington, DC, TXD-326-69, Case 3CA-3326 and 3-CA-3326-2, Olson Bodies, Inc., a subsidiary of Grumman Allied Industries, Inc., and
International Union, United Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural Implement Workers of America,
AFL-CIO, 5, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
311
Larry L. Heyen to Tony Merino, p. 2, 25 April 1968, UAW Research Department, Box 113,
Folder 21, ALUA.
312
According to UAW researchers, the Aerobilt plants employed approximately 270 workers in
June 1963. See Report, ―Organizational—Report,‖ attached to Francis S. O‘Mealia to Charles Kerrigan,
June 15, 1963, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA. For the population who worked
on Long Island, see ―Employee—Population: As of the 1st of Month,‖ circa 1973, Grumman Files,
―Personnel,‖ Sect A-8, 1st Drawer of C-7, NGHC.
190
Auto Workers would try an end run around management by trying to organize a smaller
part of Grumman and thereby perhaps build momentum for a larger campaign in
Bethpage. After all, if the UAW succeeded in unionizing Olson, it could technically claim
it had organized Grumman. But even though Olson represented a very small part of
Grumman, and generally comprised an entirely different organization than its parent firm
on Long Island, Olson management would still try to resist the Auto Workers‘ attempts at
unionization with all its might by appealing the case to the nation‘s highest courts, a
pattern that the main Bethpage company had followed when dealing with issues of race
relations and accusations of discrimination (see Chapter Three).
Unions first began trying to organize Olson in the early 1950s. From 1951 to 1962,
several groups—including the Auto Workers, the Sheet Metal Workers, the Iron Workers,
the Steel Workers, the Electrical Workers (IUE), and the Boilermakers—all tried to
collect enough signatures to secure an NLRB-sanctioned election, but each organization
failed, until the Electrical Workers finally forced a vote on August 24, 1962.313 Although
313
For the complicated history on this subject, see and compare ―Organizational—Report,‖
attached to Francis S. O‘Mealia to Charles Kerrigan, 15 June 1963; and ―Brief and Findings,‖ United
States of America, Before the National Labor Relations Board, Division of Trial Examiners, Washington,
DC, TXD-326-69, Case 3-CA-3326 and 3-CA-3326-2, Olson Bodies, Inc., a subsidiary of Grumman
Allied Industries, Inc., and International Union, United Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural
Implement Workers of America, AFL-CIO, 5. Both found in UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173,
Folder 31, ALUA.
Many of the unions appealed to the NLRB to hold an election, but failed to secure one. In 1951,
the Auto Workers petition with NLRB Case 2-RC-3613. The Boilermakers tried next in 1957 with NLRB
Case 2-RC-8693 and 1958 with NLRB Case 2-RC-9437. In 1960, the Sheet Metal Workers tried twice
with NLRB Case 3-RC-2486 and Case 3-RC-2872. See ―Brief and Findings,‖ United States of America,
Before the National Labor Relations Board, Division of Trial Examiners, Washington, DC, TXD-326-69,
Case 3-CA-3326 and 3-CA-3326-2, Olson Bodies, Inc., a subsidiary of Grumman Allied Industries, Inc.,
and International Union, United Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural Implement Workers of
America, AFL-CIO, 5, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
191
balloting ran close, the Electrical Workers lost 110 to 123 votes.314 Immediately following
the posting of polling results, the IUE filed a complaint with the NLRB claiming that ―the
employer prevented a free choice of bargaining representatives by it‘s [sic] interference.‖
Although the NLRB‘s regional office in Buffalo found the protest had no merit, the IUE
appealed the case to the Board‘s national office, which ordered a new election. 315 During
the follow-up election in April 1963, the vote went overwhelmingly against the union by a
count of 158 to 53. Again however, the IUE objected and filed a complaint with the
NLRB, claiming that the company ―interfered with ‗employee‘s [sic] self-organizational
rights‘‖ by granting several concessions just prior to the new election, including paid
hospitalization insurance and wage increases. The protest essentially went nowhere.
Although IUE representatives felt discouraged, they said they still planned on continuing
their organizational efforts at Olson. 316 Ultimately, however, the Electrical Workers failed
to make much headway at the Athens plants, and it eventually abandoned its drive. It
would take several more years before another NLRB-supervised election would occur in
Athens.
During the mid-1960s, the UAW led the way among unions vying to take Olson.
The Auto Workers believed that Olson employees would respond favorably to the UAW
as the main labor organization that dealt with the automotive and truck industry—and they
314
Report, ―Organizational—Report,‖ attached to Letter, Francis S. O‘Mealia to Charles
Kerrigan, 5 June 1963, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
315
Ibid.
316
Ibid.
192
were correct.317 In early September 1966, George Hildenbrand, Sr., an Olson employee
and member of the Auto Workers‘ In-Plant Organizing Committee, proudly donned his
UAW button and began passing out union authorization cards at both Athens plants. 318 By
September 26, the UAW had received signatures from well over the usual 50% of workers
necessary to call for an NLRB-sanctioned election. Of the 225 maintenance and
production workers at Olson, 121 had given the UAW the right to bargain on their behalf.
The next day the Auto Workers filed the cards with the NLRB and requested an
election.319
While George Hildenbrand and his colleagues busied themselves collecting the
authorization cards, Olson‘s managers began questioning the workers about why they
wanted a union. When David Simmons, one of the plant‘s managers, discovered that the
employees‘ main concerns centered on low wages and a lack of fringe benefits, the
company‘s Senior Vice President quickly instituted several raises. Hildenbrand got a
seventeen cent per hour increase, while about half of the other employees received raises
from five to twenty cents per hour.320 Over the next several months, well into December
317
Francis X. O‘Mealia, a UAW Field Representative, expressed this opinion as early as June
1963. See ibid.
318
Hildenbrand began handing out cards on September 8. ―Brief and Findings,‖ United States of
America, Before the National Labor Relations Board, Division of Trial Examiners, Washington, DC,
TXD-326-69, Case 3-CA-3326 and 3-CA-3326-2, Olson Bodies, Inc., a subsidiary of Grumman Allied
Industries, Inc., and International Union, United Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural Implement
Workers of America, AFL-CIO, 6 and 8, and 25-26, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31,
ALUA.
319
320
See ibid.
The raises went into effect, without the employees knowing it at first, on September 19. Mr.
Loar, the company‘s Sr. Vice President at the time, instituted the increases. See ibid., 8-9, and 16.
193
1966, Simmons called each of the employees who had gotten increases into his office, one
at a time, even after the raises had already shown up in their paychecks, to discuss their
increases and ask them if they felt satisfied with the additional money. He also asked if
they believed that the company had treated them fairly, and, whether they had signed a
union authorization card. If they had endorsed one, he wanted to know why. He also
asked if they wanted to get their card back. Simmons would conclude the conversation by
letting the worker know that he had ways of finding out who had signed cards, and, he
added, those people had made a mistake because the company planned to fight every
attempt at organization. Finally, Simmons would state that Olson would never negotiate a
contract with any union.321
Other Olson managers besides Simmons tried to intimidate the workers; some of
the plant‘s foremen also browbeat the employees. One of them told the workers they were
―crazy‖ if they thought the UAW could win an election, and he threatened that even if the
UAW succeeded, the company would shut its doors rather than operate with a union shop.
He also mentioned to other employees that they might not have a job if the firm
unionized.322 Similarly, another foreman claimed that if the workers voted for a union,
then ―the Company would put locks on the doors.‖323 While the NLRB busied itself
verifying the UAW signature cards, Olson‘s top managers devised a different strategy to
undermine any election that took place. They argued that if the NLRB scheduled an
321
See ibid., 11 and 16.
322
Ibid., 14-16.
323
Ibid., 15-16.
194
election, then it should include all of Olson‘s truck body-building interests, not just the
Athens plants. They demanded that the maintenance and production employees at the
plants in Sturgis, MI and Sherman, TX—notoriously anti-union plants—participate in any
vote.324 To evaluate the case, the NRLB held hearings on four separate occasions during
October and November 1966.325 After evaluating the issue for several months, the NLRB
ruled on January 27, 1967 (which incidentally was the same day as the Apollo 1 fire), that
the election would include only the Athens workers. The election would take place a few
weeks later, on February 17.326
Two hundred and twenty employees cast ballots on the 17th, and remarkably,
despite management pressure, the vote split evenly among the workers. One hundred and
ten employees voted for the UAW, while an equal number sided with the company.327 The
Auto Workers quickly challenged one of Olson‘s ballots, however, because it claimed that
William Davenport, one of the employees who had cast a vote, worked for Olson as a
324
According to a May 1963 letter from Kenneth W. Robinson, the UAW‘s Regional Director for
Region 1-D, the Auto Workers had petitioned the NLRB in the past for a sanctioned election at the
Sturgis, Michigan, Plant G. See Kenneth W. Robinson to Woodrow L. Ginsburg, 14 May 1963, UAW
Research Department Collection, Box 113, Folder 21, ALUA.
325
The hearings took place on October 28, and November 4, 16, and 17. ―Brief and Findings,‖
United States of America, Before the National Labor Relations Board, Division of Trial Examiners,
Washington, DC, TXD-326-69, Case 3-CA-3326 and 3-CA-3326-2, Olson Bodies, Inc., a subsidiary of
Grumman Allied Industries, Inc., and International Union, United Automobile, Aerospace and
Agricultural Implement Workers of America, AFL-CIO, 6, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder
31, ALUA.
326
See ibid.; and Francis X. O‘Mealia to Joseph Mooney, 24 January 1967, UAW Region 9A
327
Of 225 eligible voters, 220 cast ballots―Brief and Findings,‖ United States of America, Before
the National Labor Relations Board, Division of Trial Examiners, Washington, DC, TXD-326-69, Case 3CA-3326 and 3-CA-3326-2, Olson Bodies, Inc., a subsidiary of Grumman Allied Industries, Inc., and
International Union, United Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural Implement Workers of America,
AFL-CIO, 5. Both found in UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
195
secretary, not a production employee, although he had worked on the shop floor formerly.
The NLRB found the UAW‘s argument persuasive and deemed Davenport ineligible to
participate in the election.328 With Davenport‘s ballot invalidated, the Auto Workers won
the election by one vote—110 to 109.329
On February 24, Olson contested the election and filed a formal protest with the
NLRB.330 The protest contained a number of complaints. The first objection centered on
the decision to throw away Davenport‘s ballot, a decision which the NRLB quickly
upheld. Another point of contention stemmed from the fact that the company had
requested that shut-in employees be allowed to cast absentee ballots in their homes prior
to the election under the watchful eye of representatives from all three parties, the NLRB,
328
While Olson claimed Davenport eligible to vote, the UAW tried to overturn the claim. Olson
said he had been a plant clerical employee and therefore eligible to vote, whereas the UAW claimed he
was ―a liason [sic] man between the engineering and drafting departments and is not part of the
production and maintenance unit, and is not eligible to vote.‖ The UAW cited the fact that the election
was only for production and maintenance workers, not clerical or professional people, and that both
parties had agreed to the exclude engineers and draftsmen. NLRB Case, Supplemental Decision and
Certification of Representation, Grumman Allied Industries, Inc., [Employer] and International Union,
United Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural Implement Workers of America (UAW) [Petitioner],
before the National Labor Relations Board, Third Region, Case No. 3-RC-4023, 14 April 1967, Signed by
Merle D. Vincent, Jr. Regional Director of the Third Region of the NLRB, Buffalo, NY, 1-8, UAW
329
Ibid.; and ―Brief and Findings,‖ United States of America, Before the National Labor
Relations Board, Division of Trial Examiners, Washington, DC, TXD-326-69, Case 3-CA-3326 and 3CA-3326-2, Olson Bodies, Inc., a subsidiary of Grumman Allied Industries, Inc., and International Union,
United Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural Implement Workers of America, AFL-CIO, 6, UAW
330
―Brief and Findings,‖ United States of America, Before the National Labor Relations Board,
Division of Trial Examiners, Washington, DC, TXD-326-69, Case 3-CA-3326 and 3-CA-3326-2, Olson
Bodies, Inc., a subsidiary of Grumman Allied Industries, Inc., and International Union, United
Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural Implement Workers of America, AFL-CIO, 6, UAW Region 9A
Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA. Olson‘s protest—NLRB Case Number RC-3-4023—went to the
NLRB‘s regional office in Buffalo for review. The case number is contained in Letter, Francis X.
O‘Mealia to Joseph Mooney, 17 April 1967, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
196
Olson, and the UAW. But the NLRB had denied the request and continued to uphold that
decision.331 Olson also claimed that some pro-union workers had coerced or bribed at least
three employees into supporting the UAW, but once again, the NLRB dismissed all three
complaints.332
331
The NLRB claimed that it had always been the agency‘s policy to only count the votes of
employees who actually went to the polls. See, NLRB Case, Supplemental Decision and Certification of
Representation, Grumman Allied Industries, Inc., [Employer] and International Union, United
Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural Implement Workers of America (UAW) [Petitioner], before the
National Labor Relations Board, Third Region, Case No. 3-RC-4023, April 14, 1967, Signed by Merle D.
Vincent, Jr. Regional Director of the Third Region of the NLRB, Buffalo, NY, 8. Olson had requested
home voting or mail-in voting for fifteen shut-in employees. Even though the NLRB rejected the request,
eleven of the employees still made it to the actual polling place to cast their ballots. On this issue, see
―Memorandum for the U.A.W.—Intervenor,‖ on A Petition before the Supreme Court of the United
States, October Term 1970, No. 238, Olson Bodies, Inc., formerly Grumman Allied Industries, Inc.
(petitioner) vs. National Labor Relations Board and International Union, United Automobile, Aerospace
and Agricultural Implement Workers of America (UAW) (Respondents), on a Petition for a Writ of
Certitorari to the United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit, 3-4. Both found in UAW Region
9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
332
The first complainant claimed that pro-union employees had harassed and threatened him
prior to the election and it had given him a nervous breakdown. One of them had told him ―he could be
subpeoned [sic] and brought to the courthouse for changing his mind against the union.‖ The complainant
also claimed that he noticed several pro-union workers talking about him and making threatening looks
and tones. Even though the employee identified the ―threatening‖ workers by name, they all denied the
incident and the situation quickly turned into a ―he said, he said‖ argument. The NLRB consequently
dismissed the protest.
The second aggrieved worker complained that one of the UAW‘s In-Plant Organizing Committee
Members had told her that he had heard that the company foreman had said she would lose her job after
the election. Although the UAW member did not mentioned the union by name, and even admitted to
having had a conversation with the female employee, he said that he had only repeated what he had heard.
Again, it turned into another ―he said, she said‖ situation and the NLRB dismissed the objection.
The third and final complainant--who had planned to leave Olson for Michigan shortly after the
election anyway--noted that one of the UAW‘s representatives, along with two of the UAW‘s In-Plant
Committee Members, met with him at a diner three days before the election and offered to write him a
letter of recommendation that he could take with him to find a new job. The employee stated that ―nobody
asked him how he was going to vote, or asked him to vote for the union, but he ‗felt‘ the letter of
recommendation was made to get him to vote for the union.‖ Interestingly, he received the letter, which
had been prepared by a UAW International Representative, on the morning of the election. Despite such
testimony, the NLRB dismissed the idea of a bribe because the letter did not force him to vote a certain
way; the agency viewed the letter as ―merely a friendly gesture.‖ For the full story see NLRB Case,
Supplemental Decision and Certification of Representation, Grumman Allied Industries, Inc., [Employer]
and International Union, United Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural Implement Workers of America
(UAW) [Petitioner], before the National Labor Relations Board, Third Region, Case No. 3-RC-4023, 14
April 1967, Signed by Merle D. Vincent, Jr. Regional Director of the Third Region of the NLRB, Buffalo,
NY, UAW Papers, 8-11 and 14, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
197
Olson‘s various attempts to overturn the election had failed. The NLRB officially
certified the original results in April 1967.333 News of the election results spread quickly.
On April 2, the Long Island Press underlined the UAW‘s surprising victory against
Grumman, announcing: ―They said it couldn‘t be done. But Region 9A of the United Auto
Workers, AFL-CIO, has not only organized a Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corp. shop,
but has actually won a representation election. It was not at Grumman‘s main plants in
Bethpage, but at a Grumman subsidiary upstate—Grumman Allied Industries of
Athens.‖334 The article characterized the mood of Charles Kerrigan, the UAW‘s Regional
Director, as ―jubilant.‖ Regarding Grumman‘s main plants in Bethpage, the newspaper
noted that Ennio ―Chip‖ Morselli, a UAW International Representative, said ―We‘ll keep
on trying to crack it.‖335 The article closed by reminding its readers that Grumman had
333
The election results became official on April 14, even though the UAW and others knew well
before that point that the NLRB would certify the original results. See NLRB Case, Supplemental
Decision and Certification of Representation, Grumman Allied Industries, Inc., [Employer] and
International Union, United Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural Implement Workers of America
(UAW) [Petitioner], before the National Labor Relations Board, Third Region, Case No. 3-RC-4023, 14
April 1967, Signed by Merle D. Vincent, Jr. Regional Director of the Third Region of the NLRB, Buffalo,
NY. Also see, ―Brief and Findings,‖ United States of America, Before the National Labor Relations
Board, Division of Trial Examiners, Washington, DC, TXD-326-69, Case 3-CA-3326 and 3-CA-3326-2,
Olson Bodies, Inc., a subsidiary of Grumman Allied Industries, Inc., and International Union, United
Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural Implement Workers of America, AFL-CIO, 6. Both found in
334
―UAW Wins in Grumman Shop,‖ Long Island Press, 2 April 1967, ―Unionization (Articles),‖
Section A-19, NGHC.
335
Ibid. Based on a March 30, 1967, internal UAW letter, the Auto Workers, buoyed by their
victory at Olson, seriously considered intensifying their campaign at the Bethpage plant. See Anthony
Merino [writing from Catskill, NY] to Ben Rubenstein, esq., 30 March 1967, UAW Region 9A
Collection, Box 173, Folder 31.
198
been the unsuccessful target of the UAW, the IAM, and other unions for many years; the
Olson campaign represented an unusual union victory. 336
Olson refused to communicate with the UAW, or even recognize it as the official
bargaining unit for Olson‘s employees.337 The company appealed the final certification of
the results to the NLRB.338 On June 5, Olson‘s President Wallace B Spielman visited the
company and gave a speech to the workers. He began with some very typical statements
like ―business looks good,‖ but then quickly got to the main point of his address. Spielman
stressed that ―we could do good running this business without any outside interference,‖
and he promised the employees if they ―would stick along with him . . . [they] would reap
benefits they never even dreamed of.‖339 He closed his speech by noting that, as of that
date, all hourly employees would receive a ten cent per hour increase, and that the
company would pay for the employees‘ group hospitalization insurance, as well as
increasing their number of paid sick days to five a year. 340 That same day, Spielman
informed the UAW that the company would take all necessary steps to invalidate the final
336
―UAW Wins in Grumman Shop,‖ Long Island Press, 2 April 1967, ―Unionization (Articles),‖
Section A-19, NGHC.
337
Joseph L. Newton to Martin Gerber, 8 May 1967; and ―Brief and Findings,‖ United States of
America, Before the National Labor Relations Board, Division of Trial Examiners, Washington, DC,
TXD-326-69, Case 3-CA-3326 and 3-CA-3326-2, Olson Bodies, Inc., a subsidiary of Grumman Allied
Workers of America, AFL-CIO, 3 and 7. Both found in UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder
31, ALUA.
338
The company appealed the final results on April 27, 1967. See ibid., 6.
339
The quotes are paraphrased statements by witnesses who are quoted in ibid., 19.
340
See ibid.
199
election results.341 On June 13, the UAW filed a reverse complaint against Olson with the
NLRB for engaging in unfair labor practices.342 Throughout the summer, Olson would
continue to appeal the UAW‘s right to bargain on behalf of its employees, and the UAW
would counter with its own suits.343
In August, the situation got downright nasty. On the 4th, Olson fired George
Hildenbrand, the lead union organizer at the company, an action that represented the
culmination of a months-long disagreement over appropriate work assignments. 344
Hildenbrand, a diabetic with a bad back and poor knees, had originally worked in Olson‘s
final assembly inspection area for several years, but because the job required him to stand
on ladders, and he experienced frequent dizzy spells, he requested a transfer to a different
department.345 The company shifted him to the ―back department,‖ which required
workers to finish off the backs of the trucks by sometimes lifting close to eighty pounds.
Hildenbrand, approaching retirement and in ill health, requested another transfer, but the
company asked him to stay put and see if he really wanted to move again. Frustrated,
341
Ibid., 20.
342
Ibid., 7.
343
Ibid.
344
Ibid., 3
345
Notably, the company never offered Hildenbrand a job that would have allowed him to work
just at ground level and stay off of ladders. Furthermore, according to the NLRB, another reason
Hildenbrand received a transfer from the final assembly inspection area to the back department centered
on the fact that the back department stood right next to the company washroom, and because Hildenbrand
could talk with employees about the union as they entered and exited the bathroom, the company thought
it best to move Hildenbrand. See ibid., 34.
200
Hildenbrand left the shop floor in a huff; the company claimed he had quit, despite
management‘s request that he think about the assignment for a week. 346
Several weeks later, on September 22, 1967, the company fired another sixty-nine
employees without notice and without consulting the UAW.347 The employees received
curt letters stating: ―Dear Mr. __________, Due to a variety of factors relating to business
and production conditions at the Athens, New York plant, we are compelled to have a
permanent general reduction in our work force. We regret that your employment with the
company is terminated at the end of this business day.‖348 According to at least one Olson
manager, company President Spielman had informed Olson‘s managers, shortly after he
took charge of the firm, that he believed that the Athens plants had too many workers on
its payroll, especially compared with the Sturgis and Sherman plants. 349 Consequently, the
terminations would have represented a logical outgrowth of Spielman‘s assessment. Fiftysix of the terminated workers, or 81%, were union members, however, and at 33 of the 69
had at least ten years of seniority. Of the thirty-three, 82% were union members.350
According to the NLRB, the mathematical probability that 56 of the 69 laid-off employees
would be union members, based on pure chance and no other factor (like anti-unionism),
346
For the full story about Hildenbrand‘s employment and the issues surrounding his dismissal,
see ibid., 24-45.
347
When the election occurred in mid-February, Olson employed approximately 225 workers at
its Athens plants. By September, however, that number had fallen to about 200 employees because of
general attrition. For more details on this issue, see ibid., 49.
348
See ibid., 46.
349
Ibid., 52.
350
Ibid., 3-4 and 46-47.
201
rested at about one in a billion.351 As early as 1962, Olson had threatened layoffs to
dissuade workers from voting for a union; now, the company made good on that threat. 352
NLRB investigators believed that Olson had fired the employees with the hope that if the
company won its appeal to hold another vote, fewer pro-union employees would be
around to cast ballots.353
Within days of the September firings, the Auto Workers filed a formal complaint
with the NLRB regarding Olson‘s conduct; they demanded a full investigation.354 Several
weeks later, they added more charges.355 By early December 1967, an NLRB Trial
Examiner found in the UAW‘s favor, ruling that Olson had in fact engaged in unfair labor
practices by refusing to bargain with the union. 356 In February 1968, the NLRB‘s General
Counsel charged Olson with violating the National Labor Relations Act.357
Notwithstanding the unfavorable decision for Olson, the company‘s goal of stalling
the case by tying it up in the courts had worked. The investigation dragged on for several
351
Ibid., 64.
352
Ibid., 49.
353
Ibid.
354
The UAW filed the charges on September 26, 1967. See ibid., generally.
355
See ibid.
356
Ibid., 7.
357
Technically, the February 5 document found that Olson had violated the National Labor
Relations Act ―by coercively interrogating employees concerning their union activities, threatening
employees with plant and other reprisals, and promising and granting wage increases and other benefits,
all to discourage its employees from adhering to the union; by discharging 70 employees [Hildenbrand
and the other 69] and refusing to reemploy them because of their union membership and activities; and by
failing and refusing to bargain with the Union, the certified collective-bargaining representative of its
employees in an appropriate unit.‖ See ibid., 2.
202
more months. At the end of February, the appeal process kicked the case up to the NLRB
regional office in Albany, New York.358 Over the course of the twenty-seven hearing
dates, evidence emerged that Olson had fired most of the seventy employees as retaliation.
Despite Olson‘s claims that the termination had occurred because of a need to cull the
excessive workforce at the Athens plants, NLRB investigators learned that more than half
of the employees that Olson had retained had worked approximately six to eight hours per
week of overtime. If the Athens plants had too many workers, why did more than half of
the employees have to work overtime on a weekly basis, and why had the company
regularly hired high school and college students during their summer breaks?359 Even
though the NLRB‘s investigation found in favor of the UAW once again, in December
1968—as Apollo 8 circled the Moon—Olson still refused to abide by the NLRB‘s
rulings.360 As a result, the NLRB appealed the case to the U.S. Court of Appeals for the
Second Circuit.361
Olson‘s stalling tactics continued to work to its advantage. The Second Circuit did
not issue a ruling until thirteen months later in January 1970, and then it only upheld the
358
Ibid. The hearings began on February 26, 1968 and concluded on June 3.
359
Olson also hired some other ―interesting‖ employees during this time period. In February,
Olson‘s guards started working on the shop floor. To handle company security, Olson hired some
―Pinkerton People.‖ Of the five former Olson guards, three received jobs in the production and
maintenance department, while the other two received retirement packages. For more on these issues, see
ibid., 47-48.
360
361
Ibid., 7.
The NLRB petitioned the court on December 11, 1968, to hear its case. See ibid. Technically,
the UAW received the right to intervene in the Olson Case from the U.S. Court of Appeals, Second
Circuit, in February 1969. For more details on this issue, see Benjamin Rubenstein to Stephen
Schlossberg, Esq., 19 February 1969, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
203
set of remedies and conclusions that the NLRB Division of Trial Examiners had already
put forth the previous year.362 That NLRB decision had ordered Olson to rehire the
seventy employees it had fired in September 1967 to positions substantially equivalent to
those they had lost, and to compensate them for any back pay it owed them. The ruling
also called for Olson to recognize, publicly, that it had engaged in unfair labor practices by
spying on, and interrogating, employees. It also required the company to acknowledge its
misdeeds publicly and outline its remedy, as well as recognize the UAW as the employees‘
union of choice and finally negotiate with it.363 Unwilling to give up until it had exhausted
every avenue of appeal, Olson tried to take the case all the way to the U.S. Supreme
Court. Fortunately for the UAW, in October 1970, the nation‘s highest court, refused to
hear the case.364
362
―Opinion,‖ United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit, National Labor Relations
Board and International Union, United Automobile, Aerospace and Agricultural Implement Workers of
America (UAW) (Intervenor) vs. Olson Bodies, Inc, formerly Grumman Allied Industries, Inc.
(Respondent) No. 51—September Term 1969, Argued 3 October 1969, Decided 6 January 1970, Docket
no. 33048; and letter, Benjamin Rubenstein to Stephen Schlossberg, 8 January 1970. Both found in UAW
Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA,
363
For a full discussion of the findings, remedies and orders, see ―Brief and Findings,‖ United
States of America, Before the National Labor Relations Board, Division of Trial Examiners, Washington,
DC, TXD-326-69, Case 3-CA-3326 and 3-CA-3326-, Olson Bodies, Inc., a subsidiary of Grumman Allied
Workers of America, AFL-CIO, 72-77. Olson had immediately appealed the NLRB Trial Examiners‘ June
1969 findings and asked for an oral argument on the issue, but the NLRB‘s main board in Washington,
DC denied the request in April 1970 because it found ―no prejudicial error was committed‖ by the
Division of Trial Examiners in June 1969. For more details on this subject, see ―National Labor relations
Board Decision and Order,‖ 181 NLRB No. 166, Cases 3-CA-3326 and 3-CA-3326-2, Olson Bodies, Inc.,
a subsidiary of Grumman Allied Industries, Inc., and International Union, United Automobile, Aerospace
and Agricultural Implement Workers of America (UAW), rubber stamp dated April 13, 1970; and also see
letter, Benjamin Rubenstein to Stephen Schlossberg, 17 April 1970. All found in UAW Region 9A
364
―Memorandum for the U.A.W.—Intervenor,‖ on A Petition before the Supreme Court of the
United States, October Term 1970, No. 238, Olson Bodies, Inc., formerly Grumman Allied Industries,
Inc. (petitioner) vs. National Labor Relations Board and International Union, United Automobile,
204
More than three-and-a-half years after Olson‘s workers had elected the UAW to
represent them (albeit by only one vote), the employees and the Auto Workers had finally
won their case. As one UAW attorney noted, the victory represented ―the first crack in the
armor of Grumman Aircraft Corp.‖365 In spite of the fact that Olson remained only a very
small part of the Grumman Corporation, and a subsidiary at that, clearly the UAW
believed it had made its first inroad into Grumman. The UAW hoped that the Bethpage
plants would soon fall. Nevertheless, back on Long Island, at the real heart and soul of
Grumman, UAW field workers had failed to secure the company, and would continue to
fall short.
Grumman and Long Island After Olson
At approximately the same time that the UAW had started to gain a toehold at
Olson, it became apparent that the legacy of Grumman‘s anti-unionism would continue to
have a widespread effect on Long Islanders and their economy, at least according to some
of the employees and union officials at the local Sperry plant. In May 1966, after a series
of layoffs at Sperry, Tom Cowell, the President of Local 450 of the International Union of
Electrical, Radio, and Machine Workers (the union at Sperry), claimed that the company
had only let people go for two reasons. The first: Sperry had shifted the workload to
several new plants in anti-labor, right-to-work states. The other reason stemmed from
Aerospace and Agricultural Implement Workers of America (UAW) (Respondents), on a Petition for a
Writ of Certiorari to the United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit, UAW Region 9A
365
The attorney initially mentioned the UAW‘s victory at Olson as the ―first crack…‖
immediately after the Second Circuit‘s ruling in 1969. See Benjamin Rubenstein to Stephen Schlossberg,
8 January 1970, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder 31, ALUA.
205
alleged problems with the DoD‘s procurement policies. Cowell told Long Island
Congressmen and aides to Senators Jacob Javits and Robert Kennedy that he found it
―more than a coincidence‖ that ―Grumman, the only large non-union defense plant on
Long Island, is awarded contract after contract, while Sperry and the other Union shops
decline steadily. In face of this practice, we can only assume that the Defense Department
is pursuing an anti-union policy in awarding its contracts.‖366 Regardless of the correctness
of Cowell‘s assessment, the perception that Grumman had to become a union company, or
else stunt the future of Long Island workers and the region, remained foremost on labor
organizers‘ minds.
Buoyed by their victory at Olson, the Auto Workers wanted to take another run at
Bethpage. Beginning in the spring of 1967, a few internal letters circulated among some of
the UAW‘s leadership expressing confidence that they could take Grumman. 367 The
company represented an even greater prize than it had during the UAW‘s first campaign.
From 1962 to 1967, Grumman‘s sales had more than tripled. Its net worth in 1967 rested
at about $21.5 million and it had a very high return on its investment at 19% (the average
U.S. manufacturer earned only 12% during this period).368 Overall, the Bethpage
company had made some significant financial gains, and the UAW wanted to sign the
366
Cowell is quoted in Local 450 of the International Union of Electrical, Radio, and Machine
Workers, ―Report on Washington Meeting,‖ 9 May 1966, ―Union Correspondence,‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
367
Anthony Merino, [writing from Catskill, NY], to Ben Rubenstein, esq., 30 March 1967, UAW
368
In 1966, Grumman had a net return of approximately 30%. That year, most manufacturers
had a 14% return, and 1966 was one of the most prosperous years in US history up to that point. For more
details, see ―Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation,‖ prepared by the UAW Research Department,
25 April 1968, 1-3, UAW Research Department Collection, Box 113, Folder 21, ALUA.
206
asset-rich firm‘s workers to its ranks.369 On June 22, Allan DeLorenzo, one of the UAW‘s
new field representatives on Long Island ordered more than 5,000 union authorization
cards from Detroit for a new Grumman campaign drive. 370 Less than a month later, the
Auto Workers began distributing literature at the Grumman plant in Calverton, Long
Island.371 The publication asked: ―Is Joining a Union an Act of Disloyalty to the
Company?‖ The flier stressed that professionals like doctors and lawyers had their own
organizations to protect them and provide security—as should the workers at
Grumman.372
Despite Bethpage‘s historical penchant for anti-unionism, Grumman did not want
to be too cavalier about the threat of unionization in 1967. Some managers started to
review strategies to keep organized labor from gaining ground at the firm. Managers
circulated a 1967 article reprinted from Nation‘s Business entitled ―What to do When the
Union Knocks,‖ which detailed some of the contemporary tactics that businesses used to
hold unions at bay. The essay featured a family-run business—the corporate culture that
Grumman strived to emulate—and it described the problems this unnamed company
encountered when a union tried to organize it. Topics included: ―Things to do to avoid
369
Ibid.
370
Allan DeLorenz to Joe Mooney, 22 June 1967, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 173, Folder
31, ALUA.
371
The UAW began distributing the flier on July 21, 1967. See no. 146, National Organizing
Department of the UAW Organizing Committee, ―Is Joining a Union an Act of Disloyalty to the
Company?‖, February 1964, distributed at the Calverton Plant on 21 July 1967, UAW Region 9A
372
See ibid.
207
unions,‖ ―Things unions promise employees,‖ and ―Things unions hate the most.‖373 The
article stressed the importance of keeping workers informed about any union activities
affecting the firm, as well as reminding them of company benefits—both techniques
Grumman had used. The piece also noted that most unions try to organize a company by
splitting it up into smaller groups of employees (or departments) and dividing and
conquering them—a strategy the UAW had attempted with Grumman‘s maintenance
workers in 1962. The essay concluded that although many companies found themselves
surrounded by unions, certain key tactics and strategies (which the article had discussed)
could help keep organized labor out.374
By the fall of 1967, the UAW‘s latest drive seemed stalled. Long Island Press
reporter Austin H. Perlow wrote that the Long Island Federation of Labor (AFL-CIO),
under the leadership of President Toby Coletti, had decided to try to organize Grumman
using its own strategy. Perlow reported that Coletti had hinted at the Federation‘s October
convention that the federation would attempt to unionize Grumman using a new
technique. In the past, only individual unions had tried to sway Grummanites, mainly
because of jurisdictional battles, but Coletti planned to use the manpower and money of
two or more unions (with up to about 100 organizers) to mount an extensive
organizational drive, with the Long Island Federation of Labor serving as the coordinating
373
What to Do When the Union Knocks,‖ Reprinted from Nation‘s Business, 1967, ―Union
Correspondence,‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
374
Ibid.
208
organization.375 For Coletti and other local labor leaders, the fact that Grumman had
remained a non-union company had become a ―source of extreme discomfort‖ and
―embarrassment.‖376 Coletti realized that the mission might take up to two years or more,
but he proclaimed ―we are going to take Grumman no matter what it costs!‖ 377
At least one Grummanite, Fred Hawkins, concerned by the report about Coletti,
decided to investigate the situation. In an inter-office memo, Hawkins recounted that he
had met with several labor officials who had attended the convention and they seemed
convinced that Perlow had blown Coletti‘s comments way out of proportion, and that he
had ―invented or fabricated most of his by-lined story.‖378 According to Hawkins, the
Federation had ―no present plans for an all-out organizational drive at Grumman.‖379
Coletti‘s main goal was to try to organize Nassau and Suffolk county employees. He had
only mentioned Grumman because it had become routine to talk about organizing the
aerospace giant whenever people considered new organizational drives on Long Island.
Besides, as Coletti recognized, even in a best-case scenario, organizing Grumman
375
For the full story, see and compare Austin H. Perlow, ―Union Plans New Grumman Drive,‖
Long Island Press, 23 October 1967; ―Unions May Try Drive at Grumman,‖ Suffolk Sun, 24 October
1967; and ―See Grumman Organizing Drive,‖ Long Island Daily Review, 25 October 1967. All found in
―Unionization (Articles),‖ Sect A-19, NGHC.
376
For the ―source of extreme discomfort‖ quote see Austin H. Perlow, ―Union Plans New
Grumman Drive,‖ Long Island Press, 23 October 1967. The ―embarrassment‖ quote is contained in
―Unions May Try Drive at Grumman,‖ Suffolk Sun, 24 October 1967. Both found in ―Unionization
(Articles),‖ Sect A-19, NGHC
377
Austin H. Perlow, ―Union Plans New Grumman Drive,‖ Long Island Press, 23 October 1967,
―Unionization (Articles),‖ Sect A-19, NGHC.
378
Inter-Office Memorandum from Fred Hawkins to J.B. Rettaliata, ―Perlow L.I. Press Story,
‗Union Plans Grumman Drive,‖ 31 October 1967, ―Union Correspondence,‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
379
Ibid.
209
―require[d] a long-range outlook.‖380 Hawkins closed his memo by suggesting that if there
was any coherent strategy for attacking Grumman, it would be to have the Federation ―put
pressure on our Long Island Congressman [sic] to prevent them from supporting and
bringing business into a non-union plant.‖381
Despite the apparent hyperbole of Perlow‘s story, which other local newspapers
had picked up, some Grummanites and local residents did not waste any time writing
editorials which demonstrated their continued dislike of unions. Williston Park, a
Grummanite, sent the following comments to the Long Island Press shortly after Perlow‘s
story appeared:
What an honor to be a Grumman employee, and to
have this union so willing to spend so much to ‗take us.‘
Is the union willing to ‗take‘ our money in union
dues? How nice!
Will they ‗take‘ our time in union meetings and fine
us if we can‘t attend?
With so much more money in their hands will they
be able to ‗take‘ bigger and better ‗Vacation-Conventions‘
at our expense?
Will they ‗take their salaries every week while the
workers are out of work at the inevitable strike time‘? After
all, aren‘t strikes how leaders assert themselves?
‗Take‘ is exactly what the union is so willing to do
for us. Ask some of the Republic or Sperry ex-patriots at
Grumman.382
Obviously suspicious of union motives, Park insisted the UAW had nothing to offer
Grumman workers. ―In return for their ‗take‘ will they offer raises? Advancement? Bonus
380
Ibid.
381
Ibid.
382
―Williston Park, Taking Grumman,‖ Long Island Press, 8 November 1967, ―Unionization
(Articles),‖ Sect A-19, NGHC.
210
checks? Paid medical coverage? Investment plans? Job security?‖ he asked. ―These and
many other benefits we already have at Grumman. Perhaps we take too much for
granted.‖383
Apparently, Bethpage‘s continued anti-unionism must have affected the UAW‘s
campaign. By the end of 1967, it seems that the Auto Workers gave up trying to organize
Grumman; historical sources grow silent on the matter after that time period. Perhaps the
UAW had to expend all of its regional resources and energies fighting Olson. Whatever
the case, after trying to unionize Grumman for more than seven years, the UAW
abandoned the goal of trying to capture Long Island‘s aerospace giant. Another five years
would pass before another union, the UAW‘s rival, the IAM, would attempt a campaign at
Bethpage.
Beginning in 1972, IAM members from New York City‘s District 15 started
pamphleteering at the company. Organizers from the Office and Professional Employees
International (OPEIU), Local 153, a white-collar union for office workers, joined them. 384
As in past years, the IAM stressed salary increases, job security, and pensions. 385 The
Machinists exhorted Grumman‘s workers to ―Never Let it Rest! Until Your ‗Good‘ is
383
Ibid.
384
For more information on this subject, see and compare IAM and Aerospace Workers, AFLCIO, ―To All Grumman Employees,‖ Circa 1972-1973; District # 15 of the I.A.M. & A. W., AFL-CIO,
―‘Join Us at the Fair,‘‖ Circa 1972 (based on dates in the document); ―Second Union Woos Labor At
Grumman,‖ unidentified newspaper, circa May 1973 (based on date clues in the document) (Although this
article identifies the OPEIU as Local # 153 at one point and then calls it # 163 at another, some of
Grumman‘s internal documents identify the union as Local # 153.) All found in ―Union Correspondence,‖
Sect. A-19, NGHC.
385
See ibid.
211
‗Better‘ and Your Better ‗Best‘,‖ in regard to their wages.386 They also stressed that
Grumman could fire a worker at any time if they did not belong to a union.387 The IAM
wanted employees to know: ―We are with you, and we are going to stay with you until
you have a real union.‖388
And stay they did. In the spring of 1973, twenty Machinists, led by John Kennedy,
the President and Business Manager of IAM Republic Lodge 1987, began passing out
leaflets at the Bethpage plants. Their pamphlet recounted how the IAM had helped
Republic‘s employees meet their goals. A week later, the IAM handed out the same flier at
Grumman‘s plant in Calverton, Long Island. Kennedy noted that while some Grummanites
refused the pamphlets, the IAM ―did get a good reception from most of them.‖389 He also
386
District # 15 of the I.A.M. & A. W., AFL-CIO, ―‘Join Us at the Fair,‘‖ Circa 1972 (based on
dates in the document), ―Union Correspondence,‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
387
IAM and Aerospace Workers, AFL-CIO, ―To All Grumman Employees,‖ Circa 1972-1973,
―Union Correspondence,‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
388
Ibid. If some Grummanites needed another reason to shun unions in 1972, one came in the
form of a dispute between President Nixon‘s Pay Board and the Machinist and Auto Workers over the rate
of wage increases negotiated with companies. In early January, newspapers reported that the two unions
and their locals had negotiated as much as a 31% increase with their contracted companies over the next
three years, with approximately 12-15% of that increase coming in the first year. The Pay Board, however,
whose job required it to keep inflation in check, set out to enforce its own recommended 5.5% increase,
with some aerospace industry members of the board believing they could stretch it to as much as 8.5%.
The main point for non-unionized aerospace workers remained that even with a union‘s protection and
negotiating apparatuses, the federal government could still, at its whim, move in and overturn all of a
union‘s hard won benefits. So many workers questioned the advantages of being a union member. For a
full discussion of this story, see and compare ―The Pay Board‘s Big Test, Business Week, 1 January 1972;
―Wage Board Fails to Break Impasse on Aerospace Pay,‖ Philip Shabecoff, New York Times, 5 January
1972; ―Pay Board Said Near Compromise to Pare Aerospace Wage Rise to 8% by Stretchout,‖ Albert R.
Hunt, Wall Street Journal, 5 January 1972; Philip Shabecoff, ―Pay Board Curbs Aerospace Rise; Steel
Cuts Price,‖ New York Times, 6 January 1972; ―Aerospace Wage Settlement Disapproved by Pay Panel;
Labor Members Decry Vote,‖ Wall Street Journal, 6 January 1972; and Philip Shabecoff, ―Aerospace
Industry Given Week to Start on New Pact,‖ New York Times, 7 January 1972. All found in UAW
389
―Picket Line: Machinists Attempt to Organize Grumman,‖ Long Island Press, 4 May 1973,
―Unionization (Articles),‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
212
claimed that a number of Grummanites seemed interested in joining the union, but he did
not reveal how many workers that included. 390 Wage increases had been the major concern
for workers in the past, but by 1973, IAM officials realized that with a national recession
in full swing, job security had become the number one issue, particularly for those
employees who did not have seniority. As a local newspaper noted, from the IAM‘s
perspective, ―What better time could there be to organize Grumman? As Long Island‘s
largest industrial employer, Grumman has long been a source of embarrassment to the
AFL-CIO because it has always been non-union.‖391
At least one Grumman manager had grown quite concerned about the IAM‘s drive
in 1973 and had developed a strategy to deal with the situation. G. Thomas Rozzi,
Grumman‘s Vice President of Security and Personnel, described how the company could
best turn the Machinists away by having managers address the IAM‘s issues one-on-one
with any concerned employees.392 Managers could appeal to employees by tapping into the
company‘s culture of paternalism and stressing the importance of teamwork and the real
costs of unions, both psychological and economical. Management, Rozzi stressed, had to
fight unionization. They could not become complacent just because unions had failed to
390
Ibid.
391
―Second Union Woos Labor At Grumman,‖ unidentified newspaper, circa May 1973 (based
on date clues in the document,) ―Union Correspondence,‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
392
Rozzi first appears as a Vice President in the Company‘s 1969 Annual Report. He then
appeared as the Vice President of Security and Personnel in the Company‘s 1973 Annual Report. See and
compare, ―Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation: Thirty-Ninth Annual Report, 1968; ―Grumman
Corporation: Fortieth Annual Report,1969‖; and ―Grumman Corporation: Forty-Fourth Annual Report,
1973.‖ All found in ―Annual Reports,‖ Sect A-74, NGHC.
213
organize the company in the past; they needed to actively dissuade workers from forming
one. Rozzi reminded managers that
We remain convinced that a third party is neither desirable
nor needed for the continued successful maintenance of our
relationship with each other. That success stretches over
more than forty years during which time no Grumman
employee has lost one hour‘s pay because of labor
problems…. Our job will be to emphasize to employees the
past and present benefits they enjoy without the necessity of
paying dues, fines, initiation fees or other assessments and
without being subject to outside orders of discipline. 393
The Vice President hoped to galvanize managers to the task at hand, telling them that
convincing workers of Grumman‘s good record is ―a job that must be done well if we are
to retain for both the company and its employees the system that has worked so well to
our mutual advantage.‖394
But Grumman managers did not interfere with the Machinists‘ attempt to organize
the company in 1973. Sal Iaccio, the IAM‘s regional Vice President, said of Grumman
management, ―They let us roam at will with deliberate freedom.‖395 Yet even without
management interference, the IAM‘s 1973 campaign failed to yield organized labor‘s
desired result, like all of the past union drives at Bethpage. By the mid-1970s, it appears
that the Auto Workers and Machinists gave up trying to unionize Grumman. The UAW
would receive at least one more letter from a Grummanite asking for help during the
393
G. Thomas Rozzi to Grumman Managers, circa 1973, ―Union Correspondence,‖ Sect. A-19,
394
Ibid.
NGHC.
395
Iaccio is quoted in a newspaper article several years after he attempted to organize Grumman,
see ―Grumman Accused of Intimidation,‖ Kenneth C. Crowe, unidentified newspaper, 3 August 1979,
―Unionization (Articles),‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
214
period, but the Auto Workers did not seem to respond substantially to the worker‘s
request for help.396
Still, as the 1970s wore on—well after the end of the Apollo era—some
Grummanites and unions continued to press to organize the company. In September 1978,
the International Brotherhood of Craftsmen, Professionals and Allied Trades, Local 101,
attempted to capture Grumman‘s Great River facility on Long Island. One of the union‘s
pamphlets played off the company‘s can-do reputation, wondering, ―Grumman has put
men on the moon. Why can‘t they take care of their employees, the backbone of the
business?‖397 Local 101 seemed to make some progress at the company because it
claimed to have collected approximately two hundred of the Great River plant‘s six
hundred employees‘ signatures on NLRB union authorization cards. 398 This progress was
enough to make the plant‘s security forces take down the license plate numbers of
employees who took union literature, according to William Koenig, President of Local
396
In August 1974, UAW Local 259 in New York received an anonymous letter from a
Grumman employee asking for help organizing. Apparently, some workers at the Calverton plant were
considering unionizing. The handwritten letter, dated August 15, noted the following: ―Dear Sir, On Aug
23 there will be an outdoor gathering at Calverton of Grumman workers. They are trying to organize at
Plant 6. You will be able to observe from Swan Pond Rd. outside the fence at 12:00 Noon. (South Gate)
This is not the 1st meeting and management wants no more. This is the time for organizers. They need
help now. Please forward.‖ Although the UAW definitely received the letter, no other information is
contained in UAW files detailing whether the union followed up on the letter. No information on the
meeting is contained in Grumman‘s corporate files either. See letter and attachments, Tony DeLorenzo to
Ken Bannon, 19 August 1974, UAW Region 9A Collection, Box 152, Folder 9, ALUA.
397
Technically, the Local 101 author wrote ―Grummans,‖ not ―Grumman,‖ but for stylistic
reason, I decided to write ―Grumman‖ in the body of this text. See ―Open Letter to All Grummans
Employees,‖ International Brotherhood of Craftsmen, Professional and Allied Trades, Local 101, circa
September 1978,‖Union Correspondence,‖ Sect A-19, NGHC.
398
The story is related in Kenneth C. Crowe, ―Grumman Accused of Intimidation,‖ unidentified
newspaper, 3 August 1979, ―Unionization (Articles),‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
215
101, an act he believed squelched the drive. Koenig would also claim that some managers
had spied on union officials while they met with employees at a local restaurant. The
NLRB investigated Koenig‘s charges and found some merit to them; remarkably, in
December 1978, Grumman posted notices in its plants promising that it would not spy on
employees who took literature from unions or met with them.399 Nevertheless, the union,
ultimately, never seemed to force an election.
Less than a year later, in August 1979 about three hundred Grummanites on Long
Island created the Association of Grumman Employees, to concentrate on the working
conditions of the company‘s employees. Their four basic concerns included cost of living
increases (keeping parity with the industry); pensions; insurance (health, dental, and life);
399
Ibid. A few years prior to Local 101‘s campaign on Long Island, the Grumman Corporation
settled a lawsuit that had arisen because of certain covert steps that some managers at a Grumman
subsidiary, in Milledgeville, GA (more than 1000 miles away from the Bethpage plant) had taken to try to
assure that their 370 employee facility would not fall prey to unions. Grumman‘s Milledgeville plant
manufactured fiberglass and other non-metal parts for the company‘s military aircraft. The situation
began in August 1976, when Grumman sent two members from its Bethpage security staff, a Charles
Briscoe and William J. McDermott, to Milledgeville to spy on meetings of the Amalgamated Clothing and
Textile Workers Union (ACTWU). The union had tried for more than sixteen years to organize the J.P.
Stevens Corporation, the country‘s second largest textile firm with more than 45,000 workers. Notably,
Stevens had located one of its smaller plants in Milledgeville. Even though the Textile Workers had no
designs on the Grumman shop in the small Georgia town, the company‘s mangers did not want to take
any chances. They had Briscoe and McDermott spy on ACTWU meetings searching for Grumman
employees. The two men also made a list of all of the license plates of the cars of the men and women
who attended the meeting. Apparently, they reported this information to the town‘s mayor, police chief,
some city officials, as well as a manager from the local Holiday Inn and other businessmen, who all
seemed to have worked in collusion against the union. As the Union‘s chief counsel noted, the Grumman
security men had operated with the ―domino theory‖ in mind—―‘If one plant was organized then another
[Grumman‘s 370 employee facility] would be.‘‖ At one point, Grumman even hired an African-American
consultant to screen employment applicants at the Milledgeville facility to see if they had union leanings.
Ultimately, Grumman settled the union‘s lawsuit for $10,001 and agreed to help the Textile Workers with
their case against J.P. Stevens. The Textile Workers‘ Deputy General Counsel, Joel Ronald Ax, is quoted
in ―Grumman Settles Case with Textile Union,‖ by James Bernstein, Newsday, 2 August 1979,
―Unionization (Articles),‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC. For the whole story about the Milledgeville incident, see
and compare ―Grumman Settles Case with Textile Union,‖ James Bernstein, Newsday, 2 August 1979;
―Grumman Unit Says It Spied on Organizers for Clothing Workers,‖ Wall Street Journal, 2 August 1979;
and Ed McConville, ―Town Officials Admit Illegal Spying to Thwart Union Organizers,‖ Washington
Post, 8 August 1979. All found in ―Unionization (Articles),‖ Sect A-19, NGHC
216
and communication between management and workers.400 According to Association
President Karl MacDonald, by August 20, the group had collected five to six hundred
signatures to submit to the NLRB, a pitiably small number of Grumman‘s workforce of
approximately 17,400 employees. The Association had hoped for 50% of employees, but
it had not even enrolled the 30% necessary to force an election.401 By the close of the
1970s, Grumman had fought off unions successfully for more than four decades. Despite
some workers‘ continued discontent with the company, the overwhelming majority of
them repeatedly voted with their feet to keep Grumman union-free, and they had
succeeded.
In the fall of 1981, Fred Foulkes, then Director of Boston University‘s Human
Resources Policy Institute, explored the habits of the nation‘s top non-union companies, in
a paper for the prestigious Harvard Business Review. The essay focused on twenty-six
corporations, twenty of them Fortune 500 companies.402 Foulkes discussed such
companies as Black and Decker, Eli Lilly, Gillette, IBM, Polaroid, and Grumman, as well
as several strategies that these companies had used to keep organized labor from
penetrating their rank-and-file.403 Many of those tactics ratified Grumman‘s approach to
fostering a positive corporate culture. Foulkes noted that these strategies included: ―A
400
―Association of Grumman Employees,‖ Association of Grumman Employees, circa August
1979, ―Unionization (Articles),‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
401
―Grumman Workers Mount Union Drive,‖ Newsday, 20 August 1979, ―Unionization
(Articles),‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
402
Fred K Foulkes, ―How Top Nonunion Companies Manage Employees,‖ Harvard Business
Review (September-October, 1981): 4, ―Unionization (Articles),‖ Sect. A-19, NGHC.
403
Ibid., 1.
217
Sense of Caring;‖ ―High Profits, Fast Growth and Family Ties;‖ ―Employment Security;‖
―Promotion From Within;‖ ―Influential Personnel Departments:‖ ―Competitive Pay and
Benefits;‖ ―Managements that Listen;‖ ―Careful Grooming of Managers;‖ and ―Pride and
Profits.‖404 Employees at these companies also mentioned benefits, particularly health care
programs like Grumman‘s Mayo and Strang Clinic programs, as key to their general sense
of well-being.405 Foulkes had also discovered that workers found it important that
management listen to them, as Grumman had with its ―Open Door‖ policy. 406 In sum,
Foulkes had discovered management‘s keys to repelling unions, the same ones that
Grumman had relied on for more than fifty years.
Conclusion
Grumman remained a non-union company throughout its entire history—from its
birth in the early 1930s until its demise in 1994, when Northrop, the only other major nonunion American aerospace company, took over the Bethpage manufacturer. Grummanites‘
resistance to organized labor underlines the success of the company‘s paternalism in
creating worker loyalty, a significant development in U.S. history given the major trend
toward unionism in the aerospace industry during the Cold War of the 1950s. At the dawn
of the Space Age, employees at over 90% of America‘s aerospace firms belonged to
unions. Those men and women worked in a sector that employed more Americans than
any other single industry, during a period when one out of every four working-class
404
―Carefully Considered Surroundings‖ was the only other main factor. See ibid., 2
405
See the discussion about Polaroid‘s health care benefits via company doctors in ibid., 5.
406
See the general discussion about ―Managements that Listen,‖ in ibid., 5-6.
218
Americans carried a union membership card. Yet despite these figures, and regardless of
the fact that Grummanites lived and worked in a region and industry that seemed to be a
hotbed of organized labor, Grumman employees continually eschewed the idea of
unionizing at every point in their company‘s history.
Grummanites rejected unions for two main reasons—their positive embrace of the
company‘s paternalistic culture, and their negative perception of the corrosive effects of
unions, as demonstrated by the experiences of workers at other aerospace firms. These
two factors worked together in a symbiotic relationship to keep Grumman union-free;
each issue represented one side of a type of proverbial double-edged sword that seemed to
determine the fate of the company‘s management and labor relations.
Grumman‘s President Jake Swirbul had been the architect of the company‘s
paternalism. From the firm‘s very beginning, he had tried to care for his employees as if
they were his friends and colleagues, not merely his employees. While Grumman‘s
corporate culture can be seen as a contrived system developed to carefully control its
employees, at the same time Swirbul did seem more interested in fostering a sense of
mutual respect and esteem among employees (a type of corporate welfare) than in
constructing a hierarchical structure in which the company‘s parent/managers took care of
their children. To be sure, Swirbul and other Grumman managers wanted a stable
company, and they realized that employee satisfaction and loyalty were essential to that
end. But Swirbul seemed sincere in his efforts to create a positive atmosphere where
employees worked together, rather than a strict top-down structure, as his ―open-door‖
policy revealed. He was just a different type of person than managers at other aerospace
companies, as demonstrated on several occasions, including the time when he made sure
219
that the child of one of Republic‘s employees received timely care for a serious medical
condition. Such acts became legendary among employees.
Still, during the early years of the Space Age, a few Grummanites—specifically
some of the operational engineers in the Air Conditioner and Boiler Room—felt slighted
by the firm and, in a seeming breakdown of paternalism, they considered joining the UAW.
Not coincidentally, this move toward unionism occurred in the wake of Swirbul‘s death.
Nevertheless, while the UAW was able to secured an NLRB-supervised election in 1962,
the final vote—152 to 15 against unionizing—proves overwhelmingly that Swirbul‘s
culture remained firmly entrenched even in a new era of company leadership.
While Grumman‘s paternalistic culture definitely contributed to the employees‘
rejection of organized labor, so too did many of the workers‘ negative views of the
destructive nature of unions. From their perspective, unions did little to help workers, and
in many cases caused more harm than good. All Grummanites had to do was look at their
colleagues‘ experiences at neighboring aerospace firms. In Queens, Brewster
Aeronautical‘s employees, despite being what some have called the most ―oppositional
and politically sophisticated‖ workers in the UAW, could not save their jobs or their
company regardless of their efforts to seize ―Patriotic Control‖ of the firm and enlist the
help of the federal government to steer their destiny.407 Similarly, when Grummanites
looked at the situation at Republic Aviation, where many of their neighbors worked, they
407
For the quote, the most ―oppositional and politically sophisticated‖ workers, see Lichtenstein,
Labor‘s War At Home, 129-130. The term ―Patriotic Control‖ comes from Lee, ―Defense Workers
Struggle for Patriotic Control,‖ 138.
220
believed that the company had been ―ruined by unions.‖408 Republic‘s workers had to fight
hard to unionize, and once they did, a series of bitter and often violent strikes ensued when
they pressed for their demands; at one point, the federal government even intervened and
forced them back to work. What Grummanites learned from the situations at Brewster and
Republic did not bode well for the UAW when it tried to unionize the Bethpage
manufacturer. For most Grummanites, the experiences of their colleagues at neighboring
firms served as warnings about the dangers of unionism—very distinct cautionary tales.
Grummanites‘ striking letters to their company‘s management are the most telling
examples of how they internalized their own positive views of Grumman‘s paternalism and
their negative attitudes towards unions. The language that Grummanites used showed
their clear affection for the company. They believed that the firm treated them well and
offered tremendous benefits, a circumstance that provided a logical alternative to
unions.409 By the same token, their letters also reveal that many of them felt outright
disgust and sometimes hatred for organized labor. They constantly questioned, mockingly,
why in the world they would want to belong to a union; they did not want to take a chance
with organized labor.
408
Former Grummanite Michael Hlinko has stated that Republic ―was ruined by unions.‖ See
Michael Hlinko Survey/Questionnaire, 21 December 1999, in the author‘s possession.
409
The thirty-one Grummanite survey/questionnaires completed for this study also
overwhelming support the idea that Grumman was a fair and benevolent employer. As Grummanite
Benjamin Beekman noted, the company‘s employees refused to unionize the firm because they did not
want to ―ruin a really good relationship‖ and a ―wonderful company.‖ Robert Ionescu, a Grumman
mechanical designer, similarly believed ―the reason I got where I could get was because there was no
union.‖ As Ionescu simply opined in his closing remarks about unions, the company ―did not need one.
Grumman was the best union any worker could have.‖ For these quotes see Benjamin F. Beekman,
Survey/Questionnaire, 1 March 2000; and Robert Ionescu, Survey/Questionnaire, 1 December 1999. Both
in the author‘s possession.
221
At the same time that Grummanites were expressing their lack of interest in
unions, the UAW and the IAM were engaged in a conflict to gain superiority in the
aerospace industry. The UAW had been the leading union in the aviation industry through
the 1930s. But when the Auto Workers started to use abstract language that did not fully
address employees‘ concerns as insightfully as the Machinists‘ words, the UAW lost its
hold on that position; the IAM won its organizing campaign at Curtiss-Wright in 1942.
Having lost their lead, the UAW constantly strove over the next thirty years to regain its
status as the premiere union in the industry. The UAW‘s campaign at Republic in the late
1940s revealed its continued inability to properly grasp and address the issues that
mattered most to workers. Their pamphlets, fliers, and handbills used anti-capitalist
verbiage to try to sway workers, while the Machinists‘ literature stressed bread-andbutter, ―common-man‖-style arguments that appealed to the average worker. Even though
the Auto Workers‘ publications had started moving toward more practical and
understandable language and arguments by the time of the Grumman campaign—thanks to
the influence of UAW organizer Forrest Innis—the change could not overcome
Grummanites‘ allegiance to the company.
One may ask why the IAM never launched a serious organizing campaign at
Grumman. While it is true that the Machinists briefly considered unionizing the company
in 1961, and then again in 1973, neither campaign met with much success. Perhaps the
Machinists never seriously pursued the Bethpage firm because they knew that the
company‘s culture of paternalism could not be broken, something the UAW failed to
realize. Then again, perhaps the Machinists were already content with the membership of
all of the aerospace firms that they had acquired over the previous thirty years, particularly
222
after they had seized Republic. Unfortunately, historical sources remain silent on the
IAM‘s thinking in regard to organizing Grumman.
In the late 1960s, Olson Bodies, a small subsidiary of Grumman, did unionize.
Although the Auto Workers crowed that they had finally cracked Grumman, that claim
stretched the truth. Located in upstate New York far from the social and cultural center
of the Grumman Corporation on Long Island, Olson only employed about 270 workers
during the UAW‘s drive on the company, compared to the more than 32,000 some
workers at Grumman‘s main plants downstate; Olson and the Grumman Corporation were
hardly one company.410 Although Olson managers treated many of their employees quite
poorly, the UAW still only succeeded in capturing the plant by one vote during a very
controversial NLRB-supervised election, which broke down 110 to109 for unionization.
The UAW‘s success at Olson did not provide the union an inroad into Grumman.
In the end, Grummanites‘ embrace of their company‘s culture of paternalism,
coupled with their negative views of organized labor, kept the Bethpage firm union-free.
The majority of Grummanites believed that the company treated them fairly and had their
best interests at heart. Their internalization of these views led them to vehemently oppose
unions and brought Grummanites like Sonny Pangallo to warn the UAW: ―Don‘t tell us
we‘re starving and underpaid and ill-fed.‖411 Grummanites believed differently, and unions,
particularly the UAW, were never able to make them change their minds.
410
For the number of employees at Bethpage during the Olson campaign, see "EmployeePopulation, As of 1st of Month," "Personnel," Section A-8, NGHC.
411
NGHC.
Typewritten Letter, Sonny Pangallo, January 1962, ―Union Correspondence,‖ Sect. A-19,
CHAPTER THREE
DAVID AND GOLIATH: THE CIVIL RIGHTS
MOVEMENT COMES TO GRUMMAN
From its very inception in the early 1930s, Grumman had established an
outstanding rapport with its employees. Most Grummanites felt that the company treated
them well and they forged a strong bond with the aerospace giant; they viewed the
company as a very paternal and benevolent employer. As a result, most Grummanites
developed a great sense of loyalty to the corporation, and such loyalty, as we saw in
Chapter Two, kept labor organizers from successfully unionizing Long Island‟s single
largest employer. But were all Grummanites satisfied with their individual progress at the
company and the way that it treated them? Did African Americans feel a strong sense of
commitment and loyalty to the company? Did they feel that they received the same
treatment and opportunities as white employees? This chapter explores these issues in
detail and seeks to understand the ways in which the modern Civil Rights Movement
interacted with the history of the Cold War Space Race.
As some scholars have insightfully noted, the year 1957 marked both the
beginning of the Space Age and what several historians cite as a key moment in the
modern Civil Rights Movement. In the fall of that year, the Soviet Union launched two
Sputnik satellites and effectively started the Space Race. At approximately the same time,
one of the first major salvos of the modern Civil Rights Movement occurred when a
223
224
battle took place in Little Rock, Arkansas over the racial integration of the city‟s Central
High School. 1 Despite the fact that two such important historical movements began in
roughly the same period, few scholars have attempted to explore how these movements
may have affected one another. In short, the history of race relations and its interaction
with the U.S. space program of the 1960s and early 1970s, particularly its relationship
with the American aerospace industry, has remained largely unexplored.
A few notable exceptions are Steven Moss‟s monograph NASA and Racial
Equality in the South, 1961-1968 (1997), a chapter in Andrew J. Dunar and Stephen P.
Waring‟s Power to Explore: A History of Marshall Space Flight Center, 1960-1990
(1999), and Kim McQuaid‟s “‟Racism, Sexism, and Space Ventures‟: Civil Rights at
NASA in the Nixon Era and Beyond” (2007) (an essay about a female African
American‟s lawsuit at NASA Headquarters).2 As Moss notes although there are many
books about the history of NASA, its regional centers, and its culture, none—save his
monograph and Dunar and Waring‟s chapter—have effectively dealt with how the influx
of Space Age jobs into local communities affected the nation‟s race relations.
Furthermore, only a few works even mention anything on the subject, and, when they do,
1
Notably, the Civil Rights Act of 1957 also took place that same year. For more on the subject,
see Steven L. Moss, “NASA and Racial Equality in the South, 1961-1968” (M.A. Thesis, Texas Tech
University, 1997) 2.
2
Moss, “NASA and Racial Equality”; Chapter IV “The Marshall Reconstruction,” in Andrew J.
Dunar and Stephen P. Waring, Power to Explore: A History of Marshall Space Flight Center, 1960-1990
(Washington, DC: NASA SP-4313, 1999), 115-130; and Kim McQuaid‟s “‟Racism, Sexism, and Space
Ventures‟: Civil Rights at NASA in the Nixon Era and Beyond,” in Steven J. Dick and Roger D. Launius,
eds, The Societal Impact of Spaceflight (Washington, DC: NASA SP-2007-4801, 2007), 421-449.
McQuaid‟s essay focuses on the story of Ruth Bates Harris, NASA‟s highest ranking female employee
during the second Nixon Administration.
225
they treat the topic in only a cursory manner.3 Moss (and to a lesser extent Dunar and
Waring) have attempted to rectify the situation by concentrating on how NASA used its
influence as a federal agency to effect changes in racial attitudes and policies in the
southern communities where its regional centers were located during the 1960s. 4 In short,
Moss, Dunar, Waring, and McQuaid have asked what NASA did for civil rights in the
1960s and whether the agency effected any serious change in race relations. 5
Although these scholars have done the initial groundwork on this important
subject, their studies tend to explore the subject from the “top down.” Stated differently,
they generally stress the history of the interaction of race relations and the U.S. space
program from the perspective of what NASA, a governmental agency, did (or did not do)
to promote change; they do not investigate how African Americans interacted with the
aerospace industry. 6 This chapter, on the other hand, takes up that issue by exploring how
African Americans fared at Grumman. It investigates how Long Island African
Americans pressed Grumman on a variety of racially oriented issues and how company
managers and co-workers reacted to that pressure.
To properly explore the history of race relations at Grumman during the Apollo
era, it is first necessary to briefly review the changes that were occurring in federal anti-
3
Moss, “NASA and Racial Equality,” 7-20.
4
Moss largely explores the communities in Florida and Alabama, with some minor material about
the NASA communities in Mississippi and Texas.
5
Moss, “NASA and Racial Equality,” 1-2.
6
Ibid.
226
discrimination policies and laws during the period. Such a review allows us to understand
the full economic and legal context in which African Americans tried to improve their
lives while working for Grumman.
Affirmative Action, Plans for Progress,
and Equal Employment in
Early 1960s America
By the beginning of the 1960s, African Americans in different regions of the
country had formulated a variety of goals regarding racial progress depending on their
local situations. In the Northeast, where public facilities had already been desegregated
and African Americans had already secured the right to vote, their main focus was to
obtain equal and fair housing, fully integrate the public schools, and, more importantly
for many, to make significant socioeconomic improvement, particularly in the manner of
obtaining well-paying, career-advancing jobs. 7 With the birth of the Space Age, many
African Americans hoped that they would find solid employment in the aerospace
industry, especially since the federal government was bankrolling the entire U.S. space
program. They reasoned that Uncle Sam would not award contracts to aerospace
companies that had a record of discrimination, or, at the very least, that the federal
government would make sure that if such discrimination occurred, it would be corrected
quickly.
After John F. Kennedy‟s inauguration in 1961, many African Americans hoped
that they might secure federal jobs in the aerospace industry, thanks to two actions taken
7
Robert J. Weiss, “We Want Jobs”: A History of Affirmative Action (New York: Garland
Publishing, Inc., 1997), 60.
227
by the new president. Kennedy established Executive Order 10925, on March 6, 1961.
The order required all federal contractors, a significant percentage of the aerospace
industry, to “take affirmative action to ensure that applicants are employed, and that
employees are treated during employment, without regard to their race, creed, color, or
national origin.”8 In essence, the order was the first time that the federal government had
required federal contractors and agencies to move beyond passive non-discrimination and
actively promote fair employment by taking “affirmative action.” As a result, African
Americans had reason to believe that they might secure a federal job, possibly in the
aerospace field, especially after President Kennedy‟s speech on May 25, 1961, which led
to Project Apollo and challenged the American aerospace industry to land a man on the
Moon and return him safely to Earth before the decade was out.9 Due to all of the new
aerospace workers needed to help launch the Apollo Program, and because of EO 10925,
many African Americans, particularly in the major regional centers of the aerospace
industry, looked at the early 1960s as a period of new hope and opportunity.
On one hand, Kennedy‟s EO 10925 continued some of the anti-discrimination
guidelines that previous presidential administrations had established, but, on the other
hand, it also contained some new ideas about how to open up more federal jobs to
8
Quote is from ibid., 55. Some scholars have been very critical of Kennedy‟s EO 10925 because
they suggest that despite the fact that he campaigned in support of several racially progressive issues, he
became extremely cautious regarding racial matters once in office. They argue that he should have created
new federal laws that established and oversaw fair employment, instead of just issuing an Executive Order.
In all fairness, however, other scholars note that Kennedy had just won the closest U.S. presidential
election in the twentieth century and he did not want to press racial issues too hard to keep from alienating
southern Senators and Congressmen, which might seriously affect his ability to get other legislation passed.
For more on this subject see pages 52-55.
9
Roger D.Launius, NASA: A History of the U.S. Civil Space Program (Malabar, FL: Krieger
Publishing Company, 1994), 64-65.
228
minorities. The President‟s Commission on Equal Employment Opportunity (PCEEO)
became the main group in charge of enforcing EO 10925. It was almost identical to
President Dwight D. Eisenhower‟s President‟s Committee on Government Contracts
(PCGC), which had also overseen federal employment discrimination. 10 Both groups
followed a philosophy that federal employers and contractors would “voluntarily
comply” with federal anti-discrimination guidelines and do their best to employ
minorities.11 Simply put, each allowed federal contractors and agencies to police
themselves. EO 10925 went a step further than previous administrations‟ executive
orders, however, by asking federal employers and contractors to take “affirmative action”
when it came to hiring. Nevertheless, because the term “affirmative action” was
extremely vague and ill defined, the PCEEO would find it very difficult to enforce
Kennedy‟s executive order throughout the early 1960s. 12
One way the PCEEO attempted to push federal contractors toward embracing the
spirit of EO 10925 was by having each of them create an individual “Plan for Progress”
(PFP) that outlined their intentions regarding minority treatment. PFPs became popular
among contractors because they allowed them to create the illusion that they did not
discriminate by advertising their non-discrimination pledges to the general public.
Companies made it a point to take ads out in some of the nation‟s major
newspapers detailing their pledges, thereby demonstrating their progressive stance on
10
Weiss, “We Want Jobs,” 54-56.
11
12
Ibid., 55.
229
racial matters; PFPs essentially became a way for federal contractors to pat themselves on
the back and congratulate each other.13 By the end of 1962, scores of major federal
contractors had signed PFPs including Chrysler, Ford, General Motors, IBM, and
Grumman, not to mention several others.14
As contemporary critics pointed out, PFPs contained very little beyond vague
pledges; they also allowed many companies to essentially maintain the status quo by not
forcing them to move beyond what they were already doing regarding racial matters.
Grumman, for example, in its PFP, promised to continue its “corporate policy of nondiscrimination in recruiting, employment and placement,” as well as advertise that fact in
company publications and the media (particularly minority-oriented publications and
media outlets).15 The aerospace company also pledged to carry on its efforts to make sure
vocational training programs continued to operate in predominantly minority community
schools and colleges.16 In short, Grumman‟s PFP did little more than allow the company
to proclaim that it would continue to pursue the racial policies it had already put into
effect a long time prior.
Still, even though many critics viewed PFPs as “more publicity than progress”
and “largely meaningless,” there was at least one time when a PFP affected some
13
Ibid., 56.
14
Herman Belz, Equality Transformed: A Quarter-Century of Affirmative Action (Edison, NJ:
Transaction Publishers, 1991), 19; Weiss, “We Want Jobs,” 56; “Joint Statement on „Plan for Progress‟,”
no date, “CORE,” Section A-12, Northrop Grumman History Center, Bethpage, NY (hereinafter cited as
NGHC); and “LI Defense Industry is the Next Target in CORE Campaign,” unidentified newspaper, 6
August 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
15
“Joint Statement on „Plan for Progress‟,” no date, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
16
Ibid.
230
important change. 17 The instance occurred in the Deep South at the Lockheed Aircraft
Company‟s plant in Marietta, Georgia. As early as the 1940s, federal officials had begun
citing the Georgia factory as a place that routinely discriminated against minorities. The
company had segregated facilities and most of its African-American workers labored in
positions ranging from custodial jobs to semiskilled positions. In an attempt to correct its
poor record, Lockheed became one of the first companies to forge a PFP agreement with
Kennedy‟s PCEEO. The two parties signed the agreement on May 25, 1961, shortly after
Kennedy had put EO 10925 into effect, and, incidentally, the same day he announced his
desire to put a man on the Moon before the end of the 1960s. Thanks to the arrangement,
Lockheed responded to African-American employees‟ complaints of discrimination by
integrating its facilities. It also began reviewing minority workers‟ records to see who
qualified for promotion. 18 Two years after Lockheed‟s new plan went into effect, the
Southern Regional Council and the Chicago Defender, two of the period‟s well-known
champions of racial progress, proclaimed that Lockheed‟s integration process was
running smoothly. 19 In short, the Lockheed PFP appeared to be a success story, at least
in the then still largely segregated South.
Although the Kennedy Administration had made some advances in civil rights
during its first two years, such progress was too little for most African Americans. They
17
Herbert Hill of the NAACP generally found PFPs “more publicity than progress” while the
Southern Regional Council felt that they were “largely meaningless.” The quotes are from Weiss, “We
Want Jobs,” 56.
18
19
Ibid.; New York Times, 18 June 1961, 1; Chicago Defender, 4 May 1963; and Lester A. Sobel,
Civil Rights, 1960-66 (New York: Facts on File, Inc., 1967), 98-99.
231
wanted faster and more significant changes, and they took to the streets once again to
demonstrate for them. In Birmingham, Alabama, in 1963, African Americans organized
mass protests against citywide segregated facilities and faced violent resistance from the
local white establishment. Despite heavy media coverage of the events, Bull Connor, the
local police chief, turned police dogs and fire hoses loose on the protestors; for most of
the country, this incident demonstrated that significant federal legislative changes would
be necessary to force racial progress nationwide. 20
While African Americans faced outright intimidation and racial hatred in the
South, their northern brethren waged their own battles against a more insidious form of
bigotry—job discrimination. At approximately the same time that the Birmingham
demonstrations occurred, African-American workers throughout the Northeast—and in
fairly close proximity to Grumman—demanded their own changes through a series of
protests. In Philadelphia, African-American construction workers, with the help of the
Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), took to the streets during the month of May 1963
and demanded that 15% of all area construction jobs go to minorities. Although
construction companies and contractors did not grant all of their demands, CORE at least
got assurances that the employers would practice nondiscriminatory hiring and employ
more African Americans in construction jobs overall. 21 A month later, in New York City,
protests occurred over the lack of minority hiring during the construction of the Harlem
Hospital. Protests and demonstrations also moved to other area sites, including the
20
21
Weiss, “We Want Jobs,” 64-65
Notably, the NAACP did not like the agreement reached and did not support it. See Weiss, “We
Want Jobs,” 61.
232
Downstate Medical Center in Brooklyn. Police and demonstrators clashed and violence
erupted, with hundreds of arrests occurring; some protestors referred to the police as
“storm troopers” because of the tactics they used during the demonstrations. Ultimately,
the protests ended when construction firms agreed to establish special recruitment and
referral programs, but, once again, such programs were only voluntary on the part of the
employer.22
For African-American workers in the North, the final outcomes of their protests
had made one thing perfectly clear: they needed federal legislation to improve their
situation. They knew they would have to continue to demand their rights, but they also
knew they would have to do so through the courts. When some of them joined the
massive civil rights “March on Washington” in August, and listened to Martin Luther
King, Jr., deliver his “I Have a Dream Speech” from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial,
they knew the time seemed propitious to force significant changes in federal civil rights
laws.23
Even though African Americans demanded access to more and better-paying jobs
during the 1960s, particularly in the North, some scholars (both contemporary and
present-day) have raised serious questions about the number of skilled African-American
workers available at the time, particularly for the aerospace industry. As Herbert R.
Northrup, the Chairman of the Department of Industry at the Wharton School of Finance
and Commerce, noted in a 1968 article for the well-known economic journal Monthly
22
Another major construction strike occurred in Elizabeth, New Jersey, in August. Police arrested
seventy-seven protestors during that demonstration. See Weiss, “We Want Jobs,” 61-63.
23
233
Labor Review, aerospace companies had a hard time finding qualified African-American
technical and professional employees. Aerospace businesses throughout the Apollo era
did extensive national searches looking for African Americans to hire, but had a difficult
time finding such employees. 24 By the mid-1960s, for example, Boeing, a California
company and one of the main Apollo contractors, would actually claim that it had to
import African-American craftsmen from the Northeast to satisfy its contractual
obligations. 25 For Grumman, the situation became a serious problem. As the Boeing case
suggests, the Long Island company was among several aerospace employers that had a
difficult time keeping qualified African-American labor in the Northeast. One Grumman
recruiter remembered that many of the most highly recruited skilled workers did not want
to live in the North; they wanted to go west to California, if they had the opportunity. 26
One reason companies had such a difficult time finding qualified AfricanAmerican labor was because few blacks had as yet pursued careers in engineering, and
those minority engineers employed by the aerospace industry already represented,
according to Northrup, “a sizable percentage of those available.” 27 Northrup also noted
24
Notably, scholar Steven Moss has made similar discoveries about NASA‟s difficulties in hiring
African Americans. As he notes, “NASA‟s greatest problem with equal employment was not the hiring of
blacks but finding blacks to hire.” For more on this subject, see Moss, “NASA and Racial Equality”, 42-43,
81-82, 118-119, and 141. For the difficulties the aerospace industry faced in hiring African Americans, see
Herbert R. Northrup, “In-Plant Movement of Negroes in the Aerospace Industry,” Monthly Labor Review
91 (February 1968): 23.
25
Weiss, “We Want Jobs,” 93.
26
“Notes from Phone Interview with Lynn McDonald of the Northrop-Grumman History Center,”
1 March 2004, in the author‟s possession. Dawkins also talks about how difficult it was for Grumman to
hire African Americans compared to companies in California. See Bertram H. Dawkins, Jr.
Survey/Questionnaire, 12 July 2000, in the author‟s possession.
27
Northrup, “Negro Mobility,” Monthly Labor Review 91 (February 1968): 23. Significantly,
Northrup also noted about the availability of skilled African American labor: “The unfortunate plain fact is
234
that those African-American engineers who had started working for the aerospace
industry, particularly those who had graduated from segregated schools, sometimes had a
difficult time interacting with white-collar corporate culture. Furthermore, the aerospace
industry had only started to emphasize the recruitment of minorities after the passage of
several recent anti-discrimination laws.28
In July 1964, African Americans and their supporters got a significant piece of
federal civil rights legislation signed into law. Passed less than a year after President
Kennedy‟s assassination, the Civil Rights Act of 1964 became the first national
legislative assault on employer discrimination. Title VII of the act, although a very
diluted section of the law, prohibited employers with one hundred or more workers from
discriminating against employees on the basis of race, creed, or gender.29 The Equal
Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC), a group consisting of five congressional
members, three from the majority party and two from the minority, monitored all Title
VII complaints. With the Civil Rights Act of 1964, African Americans started looking
toward the courts as their main avenue for change, as opposed to the massive public
protests of the past. As July 1965 approached—the time when African Americans could
that the higher the qualifications which are required, the fewer the Negroes are qualified and the more
difficult it is to gain qualifications by short run training or educational programs,” see page 25. In a similar
vein, Moss notes: “Pre-existing social conditions that limited black educational and employment
opportunities were the real culprits. ”See Moss, “NASA and Racial Equality,” 90.
28
29
Northrup, “Negro Mobility,” Monthly Labor Review 91 (February 1968): 23.
The number was later taken down to 50 employees or more in 1967, see Weiss, “We Want
Jobs,” 70. Belz on the other hand contends, from the beginning, it was only 25 or more employees, see
Belz, Equality Transformed, 7.
235
start filing suits under the new law—scores of Africans Americans stood ready to seek
justice from the EEOC.30
Unfortunately for African Americans, the EEOC seemed particularly ill-equipped
to handle the multitude of complaints filed during the first year, and most of the cases
thereafter. It also only wielded very limited power. From the very beginning, the EEOC
was understaffed, under trained, and underfunded. The group, which never totaled more
than 400 employees during the Johnson Administration, anticipated handling 2,000 cases
during its first year. It instead had to deal with over 9,000.31 One of the main reasons the
EEOC became so ineffective was that the Johnson Administration‟s Justice Department
had been more interested in pursuing voting rights discrimination cases. 32 Another
stumbling block for African Americans was that the EEOC lacked effective enforcement
power. Although the group could investigate discrimination charges, it could not initiate
court cases even if it found evidence of such biases.33 The only real power the EEOC
could wield was to bring employers and workers together at the conference table—when
it found cases of “reasonable cause” of discrimination—in the hope that the two parties
could work out their differences in a “voluntary” manner. 34 As Herman Edelsberg, the
30
Weiss, “We Want Jobs,” 71-72. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 required African Americans to
wait for one year for employees to comply with the act before they could file suits.
31
On the number of employees, see Weiss, “We Want Jobs,” 105. For the number of cases
handled, see page 83.
32
Weiss, “We Want Jobs,” 82-83. Title VII compliance would not become a major interest of the
Justice Department until Ramsey Clark became Attorney General in 1967.
33
34
Ibid., 83. The EEOC asked Congress for enforcement power, but failed to receive it.
236
Executive Director of the EEOC in the late 1960s, noted, the group had a very
conservative viewpoint. According to Edelsberg, the commission viewed employer
discrimination not as an “act of individual malice, but more an element of a pattern of
customary conduct.”35 He suggested that African Americans faced limited employment
opportunities not because of any conscious intent on the part of the employer to
discriminate, but rather, due to that employer‟s “traditional attitudes and patterns of
conduct in business.”36 James Hodgson, a former Vice President of Lockheed, told the
Senate that the aerospace industry favored voluntary compliance on the part of the
employer when it came to Title VII.37
On September 24, 1965, President Lyndon Johnson attempted to correct some of
the shortcomings of Title VII by issuing Executive Order 11246. The new EO required
federal contractors to periodically submit written “Compliance Reports” showing their
level of minority employment on federally contracted projects. It also replaced
Kennedy‟s PCEEO with a new Office of Federal Contract Compliance (OFCC), located
in the Department of Labor. Thanks to this restructuring, the Secretary of Labor suddenly
had the right to enforce nondiscrimination in government contracts. Unlike Title VII, EO
11246 also allowed the Secretary of Labor to cancel contracts, block companies from
35
36
Ibid.
37
Weiss, “We Want Jobs,” 136. On the subject, Hodgson stated that “voluntarism is the hallmark
of successful labor relations.” In the late 1960s, President Richard Nixon‟s Secretary of Labor, George P.
Shultz, would also favored voluntary compliance, see page 127
237
obtaining future jobs, and recommend cases to the Justice Department for prosecution
when noncompliance occurred.38
Despite such expanded powers, EO 11246 also had some of the same problems as
Title VII. For example, the new OFCC, like the EEOC, relied on voluntary employer
compliance when it came to affirmative action in the workplace. The OFCC also had a
culture that believed that since employers had a better understanding of their individual
workplace situations from day to day, it was better to leave enforcement and
improvements up to them. 39 Like the old PCEEO, the new OFCC was also understaffed
and underfunded. 40 Finally, as if these problems were not enough, the OFCC had
difficulty enforcing antidiscrimination cases because EO 11246‟s definition of
affirmative action was very weak. Although the new EO did specify that “affirmative
action” applied to “employment, upgrading, demotion, or transfer; recruitment or
recruitment advertising; layoff or termination; rates of pay or other forms of
compensation; and selection for training, including apprenticeship,” it still did not
specifically define what “affirmative action” looked like.41 For example, OFCC Director
Edward C. Sylvester defined it as “anything that you have to do to get results.”42 As with
38
Weiss, “We Want Jobs,” 83; and Belz, Equality Transformed, 29-30.
39
Belz, Equality Transformed, 31. Weiss claims that many of the former PCEEO workers came to
work for the OFCC, brought their conservative views of employer voluntary compliance with them, and in
the process, essentially influenced the new culture of the OFCC. Notably, Weiss also claims that LBJ
favored voluntary compliance, see Weiss, “We Want Jobs,” 84.
40
41
Ibid.
42
238
Kennedy‟s EO and Title VII, Johnson‟s EO 11246 was hamstrung by its limited
definitions of compliance, as well as by the conservative cultures of the groups in charge
of overseeing the antidiscrimination cases. By late summer 1965, despite various
attempts by two Presidents and Congress, African-American workers had only very
limited and diluted legal remedies to help them secure better-paying jobs. Nevertheless,
many utilized these new initiatives to pressure companies to afford them new
opportunities to improve their lives. Several African-American Grummanites would be
among those who pursued such remedies.
CORE and African-American Grummanites
Of all the civil rights groups active in the 1960s, African-American Grummanites
placed their greatest faith in the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE). The organization
had played a prominent role in protesting for African-American workers‟ rights
throughout Long Island and the Northeast. For most black Grummanites, CORE‟s local
breakthroughs on Long Island and in New York made the group‟s strategies particularly
appealing. In December 1962, CORE‟s two-month boycott against the Sealtest Dairy
Company of New York had forced the company to agree to place a priority on hiring
African Americans and Puerto Ricans. Several months later, Long Island CORE got the
Meadow Brook National Bank to agree to reserve 50% of all future job openings, once
again, for African Americans and Puerto Ricans. And at approximately the same time,
with some help from the NAACP (the National Association for the Advancement of
Colored People), CORE also pressed New York City‟s A&Ps to hire 400 African
239
Americans and Puerto Ricans over a two year period.43 Although civil rights
organizations like the NAACP and the National Urban League (NUL) had a strong
presence in the New York area, those groups tended to attract the greatest support among
middle- and upper-class African Americans. For the average African-American worker,
CORE seemed much more appealing. 44
CORE relied on numerical formulas and preferential hiring issues to try to secure
increased job opportunities for minorities, especially given the fact that the federal
government had failed to decisively define “affirmative action.” 45 CORE historians
August Meier and Elliot Rudwick have noted that by 1962 the organization had set up
specific guidelines regarding minority hiring and had begun insisting that employers
recruit minorities and provide them with job training. 46 Robert Weiss, building on Meier
and Rudwick‟s work, has suggested that CORE‟s victories in the Northeast during this
period signaled that “a new generation of civil rights activists had become convinced that
concrete, quantifiable solutions offered the only remedy to job discrimination.” 47 Weiss
argues that African Americans, particularly in the North, had grown tired of waiting for
gradual change and so “demanded immediate, verifiable improvement in their economic
43
44
Ibid., 20-21.
45
Ibid., 60.
46
This is taken from Weiss, “We Want Jobs,” 61, who is focusing on Meier and Rudwick. See
August Meier and Elliott Rudwick, CORE: A Study in the Civil Rights Movement, 1942-1968 (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1973), 187-92, 235.
47
240
status.”48 For most working-class African Americans on Long Island, CORE not only
seemed the most accessible and helpful civil rights organization, but it also seemed to
have the best strategy to help them change their socioeconomic conditions. By 1965,
several African-American Grummanites stood ready to seek CORE‟s help with what they
perceived as employer discrimination.
The year 1965 was a hopeful moment in the struggle for civil rights, particularly
in opening up new job opportunities for northern African Americans. That year Title VII
of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 went into full effect; beginning in July 1965, African
Americans who believed that they had not received fair treatment from their employers
could go to the EEOC and ask for a remedy to their problems. 49 1965 also marked the
zenith of federal spending on the Apollo space program.50 If African Americans did not
make some significant and quick progress in securing Apollo-oriented jobs, they might
not be able to participate in the wave of new space-related positions, particularly if
48
Ibid., 60-61.
49
Ibid., 82. Notably, the first major EEOC and OFCC case of the post-Title VII era was against
the Newport News Shipbuilding Company of Virginia, the largest private employer in Virginia, and a
major Navy contractor. During the investigation in July 1965, Blacks “held only 32 of 2,000 supervisory
positions and only 6 of more than 500 apprenticeship positions.” Soon after Title VII went into effect,
however, 40 black employees, including the Reverend J.C. Fauntleroy, who headed up the local NAACP
chapter, filed complaints with the EEOC. The OFCC also became involved because the employer‟s
company received federal defense contracts. By March 1966, when the case concluded, more than 3,000
blacks had received promotions. Furthermore, about “60 percent of African-American workers hired after
March 30” had found employment “in previously all-white departments." As Weiss notes, however, the
speed with which the Newport case was resolved and its outcome were the exception, rather than the rule,
nationally. Furthermore, although one of the big sticks that the OFCC had for use against companies was
the curtailment of federal contracts, officials did not want to follow through with such measures because
they knew it would put many people (although mainly white) out of work. This reluctance created an
unsatisfactory conclusion for many blacks. For all of the quotes and more on this subject, see pages 85-87.
50
Launius, NASA, 94.
241
funding for space started to decline; as the money dried up, they reasoned, so would the
number of job opportunities.
With these ideas in mind, several African-American Grummanites sought out
local CORE officials and asked for assistance with what they perceived to be employer
discrimination. On August 5, nearly a month after the full implementation of Title VII,
the Long Island office of CORE sent Grumman officials a letter stating that James Brown
and Benjamin (Ben) Scott, two semi-skilled African American Grummanites, had
complained to CORE about their inability to move-up in their jobs. Both men had
requested transfers to more advanced and better-paying positions, but neither had
received the promotion he sought. CORE specifically asked Grumman to review the two
men‟s transfer requests and create a written disposition about their cases within thirty
days.51 The civil rights group also called on the company to remember that it had signed a
PFP back in March 1961. CORE challenged Grumman to step up and fulfill its moral
commitment to that pledge. 52
From a broader perspective, CORE officials used Brown‟s and Scott‟s cases as a
springboard to launch a more far-reaching attack on the company‟s racial record. In the
same letter that raised the issue of the two men‟s cases, CORE claimed that "While the
Grumman Aircraft Corp. has hired Negro personnel, it has apparently taken the position
51
CORE also lodged complaints on behalf of Scott and Brown with the New York State
Commission on Human Rights. See "Grumman Denies CORE's Charge of Employment Bias," in Long
Island Press, 6 August 1965, "CORE," Section A-12, NGHC. Scott and Brown‟s full names appear in
"Grumman Denies CORE's Charge of Employment Bias," in Long Island Press, 6 August 1965; and “Long
Island Congress of Racial Equality,” Subject: Grumman Aircraft Corp., et al., 5 August 1965. Both found
in "CORE," Section A-12, NGHC.
52
“Long Island Congress of Racial Equality,” Subject: Grumman Aircraft Corp., et al., 5 August
1965, "CORE," Section A-12, NGHC.
242
that the Negro on salary should be, if not happy, satisfied and quiet." 53 CORE went on to
state that Grumman and its managers had systematically excluded African Americans and
other minorities, such as Puerto Ricans, from certain divisions and positions within the
company. In essence, the organization claimed that minorities had only been offered the
most menial jobs like clerks, garage workers, and handymen. 54 CORE believed one of the
main reasons such practices occurred was because Grumman had a secret method for
evaluating its employees, “an esoteric procedure for promotion.”55 Concluding its
indictment of the defense contractor, the civil rights group also claimed that Grumman
“has employed a system of horizontal mobility by which Negro employees are loaned to
other departments for short periods of time, thus impairing their chances for becoming
proficient in any one skill and jeopardizing their chances for salary increases.”56
The civil rights group offered fifteen points of action that the company could take
to significantly improve its record on race relations. The more important points included
a call for Grumman “to adopt a more vigorous and aggressive policy of minority
recruitment, training, and upgrading in accordance with the terms of Executive Order
10925,” and a call to move African Americans into key jobs in every department in the
53
Ibid.
54
Grumman signed its PFP on March 6, 1961. For more on this subject, see “LI Defense Industry
is the Next Target in CORE Campaign," unidentified newspaper, 6 August 1965, "CORE," Sect A-12,
NGHC.
55
“Long Island Congress of Racial Equality,” Subject: Grumman Aircraft Corp., et al., 5 August
1965, "CORE," Section A-12, NGHC.
56
Ibid. Grumman had a policy of shifting any personnel among various projects depending on
where it needed certain manpower.
243
company, including managerial and administrative positions. 57 CORE also asked that
Grumman clarify for its employees the criteria for promotion and indicate how each
employee had performed on an individual basis via periodic review (some AfricanAmerican Grummanites had apparently complained to CORE that they did not know the
results of their individual performance reviews). The civil rights organization also
suggested that Grumman employees be allowed to elect an internal minority grievance
panel so that employees could bring any cases of discrimination to the panel's attention
for action. Finally, CORE wanted Grumman to submit a detailed plan within thirty days
explaining how the company would accomplish these tasks, and then, within ninety days,
offer proof that such actions had been taken and accomplished. 58
CORE‟s attack on Grumman represented more than a single battle against one
company. Lincoln Lynch, the chairman of CORE's Long Island organization, clearly
proclaimed that CORE's actions against Grumman would be just the first of many
forthcoming confrontations with Long Island defense contractors. According to Lynch,
discrimination against minorities among Long Island's defense contractors remained
significant, and the charges against Grumman marked "the opening gun in our battle
against the defense industry."59
57
Ibid.
58
Ibid.
59
Lynch noted that the Sperry Gyroscope Company of Great Neck, NY, would be CORE‟s next
target. Although Lynch did not mention what CORE‟s main problems with Sperry were, it is clear that he
and his colleagues were determined to attack and stamp out what they perceived to be widespread
discrimination in Long Island‟s aerospace industry. See and compare “LI Defense Industry is the Next
Target in CORE Campaign," unidentified newspaper, 6 August 1965; "Grumman Denies CORE's Charge
of Employment Bias," in Long Island Press, 6 August 1965; “Grumman OKs CORE Points,” Newsday, 28
244
Grumman officials must have been dismayed by CORE‟s indictment of the
company, which contradicted the firm‟s self-assessment and understanding of itself.
Grumman had never had segregated facilities. 60 The company had maintained a stated
“Open Door” policy throughout its entire history; any employee could freely discuss any
problem—whether personal or job-related—with anyone in the company at any time, no
appointment was necessary. Grumman managers had also encouraged employees to call
each other by their first names, "whether they be with vice presidents or fellow
workers.”61 And Grumman also had a “well-known esprit de corps” and had maintained
an “atmosphere of teamwork”—at least as far as the company‟s managers believed—
which is something that Grumman officials offered as proof that discrimination did not
exist.62 To Grumman managers, CORE‟s overarching charges and demands seemed
overblown and largely unfounded.
Some white rank-and-file Grummanites responded immediately to CORE‟s
charges against the company. As Edward Caldicott of Hempstead explained in a letter to
the editor of a local newspaper:
As a Grumman employe [sic], I can say that more
Negroes are employed in responsible positions in
Grumman than in any other place where I have worked in
August 1965; and “CORE, Grumman Reach Agreement,” Long Island Press, 28 August 1965. All found in
“CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
60
“Joint Statement on „Plan for Progress‟,” no date, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
61
"The 'Open Door'—A Tradition at Grumman," Plane News, 22 March 1968, 3, “CORE,”
Section A-12, NGHC.
62
“LI Defense Industry is the Next Target in CORE Campaign," unidentified newspaper, 6 August
1965. For more on the environment of teamwork, see "The 'Open Door'—A Tradition at Grumman," Plane
News, 22 March 1968, 3. Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
245
over 20 years. In the engineering group where I work,
there are more than 100 engineers with a Negro in charge
of the whole group. One of his assistants is a Negro. In
that group, now, is another Negro engineer, and a second
one was recently transferred to a different group. A similar
situation exists throughout the engineering building where I
work.
There are also Oriental and other non-white
engineers here. I discussed this news today with some of
the Negro engineers, and they agreed that Grumman was
the best plant on Long Island for hiring without regard to
race. CORE may have plenty of grounds for complaint on
Long Island, but not at Grumman. 63
As Caldicott‟s letter revealed, many white Grummanites believed that their company was
quite progressive when it came to minority hiring and placement.
A few weeks after CORE‟s initial charges, Grumman and the civil rights group
agreed to meet and discuss their differences. CORE officials reasoned that it would be an
opportunity to push the aerospace company to accept its recommendations for improving
race relations and minority opportunities, but for Grumman, the meeting represented
something entirely different. Company officials did not want to concede anything. For
them, Grumman would only “provide information on its program of fair and equal
opportunities for all of its employees, and to discuss the company's excellent response to
its moral obligation under the President's Plans for Progress agreement."64 Grumman
President Clinton Towl clearly stated that "the meeting has not been called to discuss
fictitious discriminatory policies at Grumman."65 Company officials knew it was
63
"Was CORE Unfair to Grumman?" unidentified newspaper, no date, “CORE,” Section A-12,
64
"Draft,” Company Statement, no date, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
65
Ibid.
NGHC.
246
important to have conversations with CORE, but from their perspective, the purpose of
the meeting would only be to show CORE how fair the firm had been to all of its
employees and to reveal the high degree of employee morale and teamwork. 66 They had
adopted a siege mentality.
Not surprisingly, the August 19 meeting did not represent a meeting of the minds.
While Grumman officials conceded that minority progress had been poor throughout
most of the country, they also believed that Grumman had always treated all of its
employees fairly. They also objected to CORE's assertion that the company only
considered the President's Plan for Progress a "scrap of paper." To counter such charges,
company officials outlined at length what they considered the success of their programs
in hiring and promoting minority workers. And while company officials noted that they
had always been willing to meet and listen to groups interested in improving race
relations, they questioned whether CORE legitimately represented a substantial
percentage of Grumman‟s minority population. Company officials stated rather bluntly:
“We are informed that CORE does not speak for any substantial number of people from
Grumman's minority groups…which casts doubt on the conclusions drawn by this
organization.”67 Still, after the meeting, Grumman decided it would continue to meet with
CORE to discuss matters, just as long as "LINCOLN [Lynch] DOESN'T CHARGE
66
Ibid.
67
"Statement to CORE, August 19, 1965,” “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
247
ANYTHING" [emphasis in original]. 68 In a show of good faith, CORE agreed not to
demonstrate against Grumman before their next meeting. 69
One of the key issues that had started to develop during talks between CORE and
Grumman revolved around the number of minority workers the aerospace company
employed. Ultimately, the two sides would concentrate a great deal of time and energy in
analyzing employment statistics to argue their point about either the solid minority
representation at the company, or the lack of it. Other firms besides Grumman faced this
challenge.
By the summer of 1965, employers in a variety of industries struggled with how
to deal with the emerging idea of minority “quotas.” For some, the notion of quotas
represented a moral issue, but for others it seemed pragmatic. Even though Title VII had
been in force for a number of months, no precise legal criteria existed to govern the
application of hiring formulas at that time. Businesses consequently struggled with what
numbers they should use as their yardstick regarding minority employment. For example,
should a company create a hiring target based on the overall minority population of an
area? Or should a company‟s number of minority workers be based on the total number
of those who possessed a particular skill? Furthermore, what geographical parameters
should determine what constituted an “available” supply of labor? These questions
illustrate the difficulties that employers faced when trying to develop their minority
NGHC.
68
"IF LINCOLN DOESN'T CHARGE ANYTHING," “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
69
“Core Consultation,” photo caption, Newsday, 20 August 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12,
248
hiring policies. While some industries had a solid supply of skilled minority workers
from which to draw, others, such as the aerospace industry, faced a much different
challenge, because they had to develop their hiring targets based on a much smaller
existing pool of skilled minority laborers.70
By the end of August 1965, Grumman suddenly decided to start revealing its
employment statistics to the public to support its claims of non-discrimination and fair
treatment.71 Company managers noted that Grumman‟s African-American employees
constituted 3.6% of the company‟s workforce, a figure that they believed seemed wellbalanced given the 3.2% African-American population of Nassau County (Grumman's
home county) and the 5.2% African-American population of nearby Suffolk County (the
other main county from which the company drew its employees). 72 Furthermore, while
the company‟s overall employment rolls had only increased about 19% from January
1965 to July 1965, the company‟s African-American workforce had increased
approximately 25%.73 In fact, Grumman officials claimed that while the company‟s
entire employee roster had risen by 71% from 1962 to the middle of 1965, Grumman‟s
African-American workers had increased by more than 256% during the same period.74
70
For more on this entire subject, see Weiss, “We Want Jobs,” 152.
71
See Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation, “Long Island Congress of Racial Equality,”
circa August 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
72
See “Draft,” Company Statement, circa August 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
73
See Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation, “Long Island Congress of Racial Equality,”
circa August 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
74
This increase is probably not surprising given the fact that very few African Americans
probably worked at Grumman in 1962. See Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation, “Long Island
Congress of Racial Equality,” circa August 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
249
Grumman officials also noted that, since January 1962, most of the company‟s new
African-American employees worked in more than menial positions. The most significant
increase occurred in the Office and Clerical staff, a 1,320% increase (from five to
seventy-one African American employees).75 Similarly, in the Technical Department,
there had been a 516% increase, from thirteen to eighty minority workers.76 And AfricanAmerican Professionals had risen 578% from nine to 61 employees, while minority
skilled craftsmen had risen from 120 to 378, or 215%.77
Minority employment numbers did not look as impressive in other Grumman
departments. Despite company officials‟ claims that most of their new African-American
employees worked in more than menial jobs, the number of African Americans working
in "Service" positions had increased from 22 to 191, or 768%, since January 1962, while
the number of African-American "Semi-Skilled" workers had only risen from sixteen to
nineteen. Likewise, only three more African Americans had become managers since the
original two had come on board in 1962. Regardless of these numbers, Grumman
officials still claimed that the company had made definite progress in the hiring of
African Americans over the past three years. They concluded that African Americans
would only continue to reach higher and better positions in future years. After all, as of
December 1964, African-American enrollment in the company‟s “Manufacturing
75
See “Draft,” Company Statement, circa August 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
76
Ibid.
77
Ibid.
250
Training Program,” a paid program during regular work hours, stood at about ten%.78
Based on their review of the firm‟s employment statistics, it seemed obvious to company
managers that African Americans were on the rise at Grumman.
As the next meeting between CORE and Grumman officials approached, tensions
between white and African-American Long Islanders continued to mount over the
situation at the aerospace company. Irving McKnight of Roosevelt, NY, an AfricanAmerican Grummanite, added more fuel to the fire when he wrote a letter to Newsday
that supported CORE's general charges. Clearly addressing local whites, McKnight‟s
August 26 missive stated: "I too am a worker at Grumman, and like the majority of
Negroes, I feel that we don't need your sympathy! All we want is an opportunity to live
and work as all others without this misplaced pity." Turning his attention specifically to
CORE's charges, McKnight noted:
I don't feel that CORE is off base by making these charges
against Grumman. Their practices are unfair, and we can
see and feel them. We can see that the qualified Negroes
are not permitted to advance—they are frozen in a step.
'Good' Negro workers are not given their due increase
unless they are 'friends' of the foreman or members of the
same organization to which the foreman belongs: lodge,
socio-civic or even hate groups.79
78
Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation, “Long Island Congress of Racial Equality,” circa
August 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
79
"CORE and Grumman," Newsday, 26 August 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
251
McKnight ended by suggesting that anyone who didn't believe him should "make a tour
of the plants, then draw conclusions based on facts. CORE never takes a stand without
substantiating actions with facts that are justifiable."80
McKnight‟s letter may have been the first indication that, contrary to Grumman‟s
insistence, CORE‟s charges did indeed resonate with some of the company‟s AfricanAmerican workforce. By the time of the next meeting in August, Grumman officials had
decided to agree to twelve of CORE‟s fifteen demands, but only because the company
claimed it had already been implementing those points ever since the firm‟s inception
more than thirty years earlier. Among the enumerated points were pledges to aggressively
recruit, train, and promote non-white employees, and a promise not to penalize any
employees who filed discrimination complaints against the company. CORE and
Grumman still disagreed about the need for 1) an internal employee panel to hear
discrimination complaints; 2) the submission of a detailed plan to CORE providing proof
within ninety days of the company‟s implementation of the fifteen points; and 3) a pledge
to provide written notification to all employees about new job openings. Although the
two groups disagreed on these issues, they did agree to meet again at the end of
September. According to both sides, the meeting had been amicable and productive.81
CORE continued its aggressive campaign against the company immediately after
the meeting. Although the civil rights group did not publicly protest against the firm, it
did make its presence known to Grummanites inside the Bethpage plants. CORE started
NGHC.
80
Ibid.
81
See “Grumman OKs CORE Points,” Newsday, 28 August 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12,
252
to physically count the number of minorities entering the company‟s gates on a daily
basis.82 After all, such data might come in handy when trying to combat Grumman‟s vast
statistical array about the firm‟s race relations. CORE suggested that Grumman hire an
African American in the personnel office to alert minorities to certain job and training
opportunities, as well as to monitor their progress; the company had rejected this idea
initially. 83 CORE also wanted the firm to place photographs of African American and
white Grummanites working together around the plant, as well as feature AfricanAmerican Grummanites in both black and white newspapers. And finally, the civil rights
group wanted the company to hold special recruitment sessions in African-American
neighborhoods.84
As the September meeting approached, the editorial pages of Long Island‟s
newspapers continued to focus on Grumman‟s supposed discrimination. Although some
wanted to see certain Grummanites‟ lack of advancement as based solely on race, two
white Grummanites clearly disagreed and aired their feelings in Newsday. Responding to
Irving McKnight‟s letter, Richard J. Bartolotta of Massapequa Park said that “politics,”
rather than discrimination, held McKnight back. As Bartolotta noted, politics were “not
only a practice of Grumman‟s; it goes on all over the world.” But in Bartolotta‟s
parlance, “politics” were not racially based per se, because politics “not only affect
Negroes, but white people too.” He went on to ask “Do white people get a chance to
82
Pete Viemeister to Jack Rettaliata, 20 September 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
83
James L. Hill to Robert Bradshaw, 23 September 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
84
Ibid.
253
advance unless they know the right people? No! When the Italians or the Irish, or the
Chinese first came to this country, they too were discriminated against. They didn‟t get
ahead by demonstrations or picket lines. They went out and worked hard to achieve their
goals. You won‟t get ahead by carrying a sign around all day.” Bartolotta concluded: “If
Mr. McKnight will open his eyes, he will see that it is not only the Negroes who are
frozen in step, but everyone who doesn‟t know the right people. If he can‟t see this, then
he is looking through shaded eyes.” 85 Bartolotta‟s letter suggests the beliefs that one
should not demonstrate against a fair employer, and, to get ahead one must work very
hard—key blue-collar ideas. These two beliefs were a definite part of Grumman‟s work
culture.
On the same editorial page as Bartolotta‟s letter was one from a fellow white
Grummanite, O. W. Magee of Hicksville. Like Bartolotta‟s letter, Magee‟s
correspondence conveyed a similar pro-Grumman sentiment, as well as a devotion to the
Protestant work ethic. Magee seemed clearly angered by McKnight‟s charges against
Grumman. As he bluntly stated: “I would like to advise him [McKnight] to open his eyes
at work and see how his fellow white workers are doing along the lines of advancement
and pay increases.” Clearly addressing the supposed racial divide, he opined:
I am white and I have been working on an advancement for
two years now. I am well qualified for the position I‟m
seeking, but since openings are scarce higher up and there
are many on the list ahead of me, I realize I must have
patience. Everyone I work with would like a pay increase,
but we realize that Grumman has just so much money to go
around.
85
"CORE and Grumman," Newsday, 16 September 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
254
So I suggest that Mr. McKnight work a little harder and
have a little more patience like the rest of us, and stop using
his race as an excuse. If a man is a good enough worker,
advancement and pay increases will come. There aren‟t
many employers who are as fair and unbiased as
Grumman.86
Interestingly, white Grummanites were not the only ones who responded negatively to
Irving McKnight‟s letter. Notably, Horace W. Plummer of Huntington Station, an
African-American Grummanite, noted in a letter to the editor: “As one of the many
Negro employes [sic] of the Grumman family, I have never been discriminated against or
have had knowledge or information of such. I came up through the ranks, and with
loyalty and determination I am now holding a responsible position. From my own
personal experience, a qualified Negro is permitted to advance and a conscientious
worker is given his due increase in salary automatically.” 87
CORE, Civil Rights, and the
Labor Organizing Question
As rank-and-file white and African-American Grummanites fought among
themselves in the editorial pages, a new issue of considerable note developed behind the
scenes among Grumman‟s top managers. Grumman officials began to link civil rights
agitation with the possibility of union organizing. Charges of racial discrimination did not
strike fear into the managers‟ hearts as much as the idea of labor agitation. Beginning in
mid-September, Pete E. Viemeister, one of Grumman‟s personnel managers, sent J. B.
86
Ibid.
87
“CORE and Grumman,” Newsday, 27 September 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
255
Rettaliata, a Grumman vice president, a very pointed document that detailed the potential
outcomes of Grumman‟s discussions with CORE, including the possibility that continued
agitation might invite organized labor to get a toehold in the company. Viemeister
included a flow chart, which at one end had the best possible outcome, that the issues
between CORE and Grumman would be “resolved happily.” But at the other end rested
the most extreme and disappointing possibility for company officials: a union election
presided over by the National Labor Relations Board (NRLB) in which workers voted to
unionize the company. Having already gone through an NRLB election three years
earlier, company officials did not want to repeat the process. Other projected scenarios
included the possibility of demonstrations, violence, and government pressure and
intervention.88
In an effort to provide ammunition to counter possible labor agitation, Viemeister
provided Rettaliata with several ways to understand the situation and proceed. For
Viemeister, CORE had targeted the company
because Grumman is a symbol. Grumman is the largest
single employer on Long Island. Grumman is perhaps the
most enlightened large company in the defense industry,
when it comes to personnel relations. But this matters not
to CORE. Making demands of Grumman, meeting with
Grumman, having quasi-negotiations with Grumman—
provides CORE with a forum for publicity for its
interests.89
88
The document Viemeister sent to Rettaliata also included a Who‟s Who in Civil Rights, a
chronology of civil rights events, and a Business Week article about CORE‟s union demonstrations around
the country and how other companies had dealt with such situations. See Pete Viemeister to Jack Rettaliata,
20 September 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
89
Ibid.
256
And while Viemeister realized that Grumman needed to allow CORE to proceed in this
matter, he also noted that, if necessary, Grumman could discredit the civil rights
organization by pointing out that it did not speak for all African Americans, since only
one in 250 African Americans belonged to the organization. As he explained, the
company could argue that “No one group can speak for „the Negro.‟”90
Viemeister keyed in on the fact that some of CORE‟s leaders “ardently believed
that civil rights objectives will best be achieved „when the battle is joined by union.‟” He
conjectured: “Having long coveted Grumman, the AFL-CIO might be studying how best
to capitalize on CORE‟s negotiations with Grumman.” He cautioned that “If CORE and
Grumman get hung up on „labor relations‟ type questions, a union might move in, using
that particular unresolved issue to fan employee discontent.” Despite Viemeister‟s doomfilled words, he also noted “a union might feel that using a CORE-raised issue would
polarize workers against the union,” and, in turn, he suggested, that might scare labor
organizers from “trying anything now.” Nevertheless, Viemeister concluded, “In any
event, we should keep our ears tuned for any hint of cooperation between CORE and the
AFL-CIO and head it off before it gets out of control.” 91
By the September 30 meeting, all of the jockeying among the different camps had
increased the tension of the situation tremendously. Although Grumman had agreed to
meet twelve of CORE‟s fifteen demands, CORE did not feel that the company was
successfully proceeding to meet its other requests. The company had not set up an
NGHC.
90
Ibid.
91
P.E. Viemeister to File, 21 September 1965, “CORE and unionism”, “CORE,” Section A-12,
257
interracial employee grievance panel, nor had it submitted a detailed plan within the
thirty-day deadline detailing how it would meet CORE‟s demands. For CORE, it seemed
as if the aerospace manufacturer believed it was enough to have agreed to the twelve
points in principle; but the civil rights organizers felt the firm was only paying lip service
to them. As Ruth Schwartz of CORE put it, Grumman believed it did not have to make
good on all of the points because it had not been guilty of discrimination in the first place.
According to Grumman, it had always been a fair employer and had treated all of its
employees equally. Furthermore, to counter CORE‟s charges and clarify its own
position, the company issued a statement that said that the “implementation of most of
CORE‟s proposals would seriously jeopardize the efficiency and success of this mission
[the space program and supplying the military with aircraft].” Overall, this meeting
produced “very little progress” and only seemed to increase tension and distrust between
the two groups. Nevertheless, the two sides did agree to continue talks on October 23,
before which Grumman would submit to CORE a list of counterproposals. About the
only positive new step that came out of the September 30 meeting was an agreement by
both sides to have an annual Job Opportunity Day, where executives from some of Long
Island‟s major industries would advise African Americans and other minorities about job
and training opportunities in their companies. 92
92
See “Grumman: CORE‟s Demands Would Jeopardize Efficiency,” Long Island Press, 1 October
1965; and “‟Job Opportunity Day‟ Sought After Grumman Talks on Bias,” Newsday, 1 October 1965,
258
By mid-October, Viemeister had grown more concerned that the company‟s
negotiations with CORE might not resolve agreeably and that the company would suffer
the consequences. He sent Lew Evans, one of Grumman‟s senior vice presidents, a blunt
memo outlining how the talks might continue, revealing that “if the current discussions
with CORE end with amicable resolution, I‟ll be surprised. These „negotiations‟ could be
only one step in a longer range CORE program that would include publicity-getting
demonstrations. Such negotiations are often merely a means of identifying a specific
issue that can be used as the basis for a more public protest.”93
Viemeister had reached these conclusions based on a book that he had learned
CORE leaders had memorized by heart, Martin Oppenheimer‟s A Manual for Direct
Action, which provided “strategy and tactics for civil rights and all other non-violent
protest movements.” Having already delved into the book himself, he suggested that
other Grumman officials read it so that they could familiarize themselves with what they
could expect in their negotiations and actions with CORE. Oppenheimer‟s work
exacerbated his fear that CORE would link up with labor and join in an organizing
campaign against the company. Viemeister was particularly troubled by suggestions on
how to target the largest business in a town. The book instructed protestors to locate an
area‟s most important companies by consulting Moody‟s Industrial Manual, which was
something CORE had indeed done prior to targeting Grumman. Viemeister was also
concerned about “a chapter on tactics” that revealed “sixty-four different methods of non-
93
P.E. Viemeister to L.J. Evans, 13 October 1965, Inter-Office Memorandum, “Understanding
CORE,” “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
259
violent action, ranging from marches, parades, picketing, leafleting, and strikes, to sitins.”94
As Grumman officials prepared for their next meeting with CORE (scheduled for
the end of October), Robert Bradshaw, the company‟s Director of Personnel, sent the
civil rights group a list of “counterproposals.” But the two-page document, far from being
a real list of proposals, simply reiterated Grumman‟s commitment to equal employment
opportunity. It also listed the ways Grumman officials believed that they had already
been meeting all of CORE‟s demands for many years prior to the civil rights group‟s
intervention. Grumman officials continued to believe that the company had always
treated all of its employees fairly since its inception in the 1930s, and they hammered that
point home with CORE. Grumman refused to let an outside organization tell it how to
manage its company, because company officials believed that their policies were already
“in the best interests of minority groups and in line with our responsibilities to the nation,
our customers, and all of our employees.” 95
Grumman‟s stubborn response pushed CORE officials over the brink. A little
more than a week after meeting with the company, Lincoln Lynch told the press that he
held little hope that the two groups could resolve their differences. 96 The civil rights
organization had tired of Grumman‟s “agreements in principle, which mean nothing in
94
Ibid.
95
Robert W. Bradshaw to James L. Hill, 18 October 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
96
The October meeting actually occurred on the 31st. For more information on the subject, see
“CORE Says It Will Stop Talking, Start Acting in Grumman Case,” Newsday, 1 November 1965; and
“CORE, Grumman Meet on Employment,” unidentified newspaper, no date. Both found in "CORE,"
Section A-12, NGHC.
260
fact.” Although Grumman had agreed to implement twelve of CORE‟s demands, and to
improve minority employment, training, and promotions, in reality Grumman believed
that it did not need to accede to such demands because it had already been implementing
such policies for years.97 Lynch insisted that CORE would stop talking and start taking
action, promising “other recourses will be resorted to if necessary.” James Hill, the
organization‟s Long Island employment chairman, summed up the importance of the
situation in the minds of CORE officials: “We are determined to reach an agreement that
will serve as a landmark for the defense industry, not only on Long Island but throughout
the United States.”98 With the end of the year approaching, the two groups had reached a
standstill. CORE was preparing for battle, a battle, it seemed, that would take place
somewhere other than in the conference room.
Curiously, however, the battle did not begin, at least not right away. One may
logically ask what happened to CORE‟s campaign against Grumman after 1965. It
appears that the organization may have been distracted away from the campaign when it
began putting a lot of effort into trying to solve the problems of urban renewal in the
Rockville Centre section of Nassau County beginning in the summer of 1965. Residents
were upset about the conditions in the village-owned slum area of Rockville Centre and
97
Grumman had not formed an internal grievance committee by November 1965, which was one
of CORE‟s 12 demands, and one that Grumman had supposedly agreed to implement. However, the two
groups did agree to set up a three-person panel to oversee the negotiations between the two groups. The
panel would consist of one representative from each organization and one form the Nassau County Human
Rights Commission. See “CORE Says It Will Stop Talking, Start Acting in Grumman Case,” Newsday, 1
November 1965; and “CORE, Grumman Meet on Employment”, unidentified newspaper, no date. Both
found in "CORE," Section A-12, NGHC.
98
“CORE Says It Will Stop Talking, Start Acting in Grumman Case,” Newsday, 1 November
1965; and “CORE, Grumman Meet on Employment,” unidentified newspaper, no date. Both found in
"CORE," Section A-12, NGHC.
261
deplored the Urban Renewal Director's refusal to correct the "inhumane conditions"
there. The Long Island Chapter of CORE began staging sits-ins to protest the situation
beginning in July, and they continued into the fall. CORE‟s files contain a great deal of
information about the organization‟s campaign to improve that situation, but nothing
more about the campaign against Grumman. Perhaps CORE had become too
overextended to carry on both movements at the same time and it had to choose its battles
carefully at that moment.99
Although CORE‟s local campaign at Grumman had seemed to take a backseat in
1966, several changes began occurring in civil rights law and policy that year that would
nevertheless provide African-American Grummanites with a more solid foundation from
which to launch a legal assault in the future. In 1966, the Office of Federal Contract
Compliance instituted a policy of pre-award compliance for federal government
contractors. In other words, the new initiative required that before a contractor could win
a bid, it had to submit an affirmative action plan that demonstrated it could meet its civil
rights obligations.100 Additionally, in October 1967, President Lyndon Johnson issued
Executive Order 11375 which required employers with more than fifty employees and
more than $50,000 in contracts to submit a written affirmative action compliance
99
A careful review of CORE‟s national and Long Island files and field reports reveals an almost
total absence of any information about Grumman or a campaign against the aerospace giant during this
period. The only mention of the situation in CORE‟s files is a single newspaper article titled “Grumman
Oks CORE Points from Newsday dated 28 August 1965. The CORE files do, however, contain a wealth of
information about the organization‟s efforts in Rockville Center. For more, generally, see CORE/King
Papers—CORE: The Papers of the Congress of Racial Equality: Addendum, 1944-1968 (Microfilm
Edition) Reel 18, Sections 108-109 at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC. The August 28 Newsday
article is on Frame 1343 of this reel.
100
262
program that included goals and timetables for minority hiring. 101 Notably, in 1968, the
OFCC mandated that each employer bidding on a federal contract submit a written
affirmative action plan as part of the bidding process. 102 All in all, African Americans
seemed to be gaining more and more legal help from the federal government at securing
better-paying and higher-ranking jobs in the workplace.
Big Brother
In January 1968, several African-American Grummanites—believing that their
company had not made significant improvements in race relations—founded an
organization called Big Brother to fight for their rights. 103 Robert Caupain, an Assistant
Program Manager at the company, chaired the organization. 104 Simply stated, the group
wanted to provide "help and understanding for any underprivileged Grumman
employee."105 Membership consisted of both African American and white workers, and
all sorts of Grummanites appealed to the organization for assistance with their
problems. 106 George C. Warren of East Meadow, a white Grummanite, sought Big
101
The law required that a company review and submit its compliance on a yearly basis. See
102
103
"Black Walkout Threatened at Grumman," Newsday, 2 August 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12,
NGHC.
104
Black Organization Threatens to Shut Down Grumman,” Long Island Press, 20 June 1969,
105
"Black Walkout Threatened at Grumman," Newsday, 2 August 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12,
106
“Grumman Hiring to be Probed,” Suffolk Sun, 29 March 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12,
NGHC.
NGHC.
263
Brother‟s help when he alleged that he was fired for refusing to wade through a garbage
can to recover some used parts.107 Although historical sources remain silent about the
outcome of Warren‟s appeal, the point remains that several Grummanites both black and
white turned to Big Brother as a legitimate avenue to resolve their workplace issues.
At about the same time, the Suffolk County Human Relations Commission, a civil
rights organization located in the county with the second largest concentration of
Grummanites, renewed charges about the company‟s supposed civil rights violations. In
late January 1968, the commission publicly charged Grumman with failing to recruit
minority groups.108 Commission Chair Ralph R. Watkins complained to Senator Robert
F. Kennedy (D-NY) during one of Kennedy‟s visits to Long Island. Kennedy, realizing
the significant voting bloc that Grummanites represented, measured his reply carefully.
Not wanting to anger white Grummanites, he told Watkins: "I haven't received any such
information… If there are any complaints, there should be an effort to work them out
with Grumman.‟109
Meanwhile, the company made an official effort to reach out to the “hard core
unemployed,” which obviously included many area African Americans.” 110 Grumman‟s
107
"Black Activist Group Plans Job Bias Protest," Long Island Press, 25 September 1969,
108
“Grumman Has Jobs for Poor,” Suffolk Sun, 29 January 1968; "'Hard-Core' Unemployed
Sought," Suffolk Sun, 1 February 1968; and "Grumman Hires 28 in 2 Poverty Areas,” Newsday, 5
February 1968. All found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
109
"Grumman Hires 28 in 2 Poverty Areas, Newsday, 5 February 1968, “CORE,” Section A-12,
NGHC.
110
Newsday, 27 January 1968; and “Grumman Has Jobs for Poor,” Suffolk Sun,, 29 January 1968.
Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
264
new outreach program coincided serendipitously with the negative publicity the company
faced regarding race relations and seemed to offset it. Grumman‟s “hard core
unemployed” recruitment program kicked off in late January 1968 on the New York State
Employment Service‟s television program “Opportunity Line.” The show featured
employers describing job requirement qualifications and opportunities at their
companies.111 Applicants could then respond to the employers on the show via phone, go
through a short telephone interview screening process, and then obtain a formal interview
date with the company. 112 Grumman‟s representatives advertised twenty-five job
openings on the show, ranging from twenty production assemble positions to five
secretarial jobs at the Bethpage plant.113 Notably, the representatives, in a significant
break from Grumman‟s past, also promised viewers that the company would provide new
employees with whatever training they needed to take on the new jobs. 114 In an added
effort to reach a broader base of prospective employees, Grumman officials even
promised to waive a high school diploma as a prerequisite. 115
Apparently, the television show, when coupled with newspaper advertisements,
had a huge impact on the African-American community. When Grumman recruiters
111
Ibid.
112
Ibid.
113
“Grumman Will offer Jobs on New Ch. 2 Show,” Newsday, 30 January 1968, “CORE,”
Section A-12, NGHC.
114
Newsday, 27 January 1968; and “Grumman Has Jobs for Poor,” Suffolk Sun,, 29 January 1968.
Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
115
See and compare “Grumman to Recruit in Two Poverty Areas,” Newsday, 29 January 1968;
and "Grumman Seek Job Recruits," Long Island Daily Review, 31 January 1968. Both found in “CORE,”
Section A-12, NGHC.
265
showed up to conduct interviews in the predominantly African-American neighborhoods
of Wyandanch and North Amityville, on February 3, 1968, applicants overwhelmed
them.116 Although the company had only sent one interviewer to each town, it quickly
had to dispatch three more representatives to handle the crowds.117 Well over 200
applicants showed up in the two towns for interviews.118 Approximately seventy job
openings existed, including several semi-skilled and skilled positions as machinists,
assemblers, riveters, fiberglass processors, clerk-typists, and file clerks.119 Opening
salaries for the new positions ranged from $2.00 an hour for unskilled workers and
trainees, to up to $2.50 per hour for skilled workers.120 In all, 207 people interviewed for
the jobs, with some waiting more than three hours to talk with a company representative.
The firm hired thirty-five people on the spot and stated that after further screening and
testing it would eventually employ as many as 60% of the people who applied that day. 121
116
Ibid.
117
"Grumman Hires 28 in 2 Poverty Areas, Newsday 5 February 1968, in "CORE," Section A-12,
118
Ibid.
NGHC.
119
See and compare "Hunt for 'Black Energy' Proves Boon For Grumman," Long Island Press, 5
February 1968, in "CORE," Section A-12 NGHC; and Ibid.
120
“Grumman to Recruit in Two Poverty Areas,” Newsday, 29 January 1968; "Grumman Seek Job
Recruits, "Long Island Daily Review 31 January 1968; and "Grumman Hires 28 in 2 Poverty Areas,
Newsday, 5 February 1968. All found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
121
NOTE, according to Newsday, there were only 28 people hired and 169 people interviewed,
but Newsday seems to have printed its story before the 8:00 PM announcement by the Suffolk Human
Relations Commission, which the Long Island Press apparently waited for, and quotes specifically. For the
correct numbers see "Hunt for 'Black Energy' Proves Boon For Grumman," Long Island Press, 5 February
1968; and "Grumman Hires 28 in 2 Poverty Areas, Newsday, 5 February 1968. On the length of time
people had to wait in order to interview with Grumman officials, see "Grumman Hires 28 in 2 Poverty
Areas, Newsday, 5 February 1968. All found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
266
For some of these applicants, Grumman‟s recruitment program almost seemed like a
dream; one prospective interviewee commented while standing in line that "this has never
happened before… I wonder if it's real, the largest employer on Long Island coming
down to see us."122
From February 1968 to the early spring of 1969, the historical record is silent on
the fate of African-American employees at Grumman. Although Grumman definitely
hired several black employees during the Wyandanch and North Amityville interviews,
sources do not reveal what happened to them. Nevertheless, a new series of civil rights
battles began in Bethpage in early 1969. That spring, African-American Grummanites
and their allies began a series of strategic attacks on Long Island‟s single largest
employer in an effort to significantly alter their lives.
In early 1969, Grumman won a more than $350 million contract to build the
Navy‟s F-14 “Tomcat" fighter plane—a job that marked the largest single contract ever
won by an aerospace firm up to that point—and CORE refocused its strategy around
figuring out a way to use the new contract to its advantage in a campaign against
Grumman.123 Even though the lunar landings were about to begin and the Apollo
Program was consequently starting to downsize its workforce, CORE officials reasoned
that the F-14 would still keep Grumman flush with money and jobs, and they wanted to
make sure African Americans participated in the bounty. If the contract did not open up
122
"Grumman Hires 28 in 2 Poverty Areas, Newsday, 5 February 1968, “CORE,” Section A-12,
NGHC.
123
In October 1969, the Great Neck News would report that the F-14 represented the largest single
contract ever awarded to an aerospace firm. For more on this subject, see "Human Rights Committee
267
new opportunities for African Americans, CORE and its allies were determined to try to
block the company from receiving federal funding because of the discrimination CORE
had alleged. With this strategy in mind, the civil rights organization began a spring
campaign against the aerospace company.
On March 24, 1969, CORE and Big Brother held a major press conference in
Hempstead Village, a predominantly African-American area, to discuss what they
considered Grumman‟s poor race relations record. The organization wanted to launch an
unprecedented media blitz against the aerospace giant in the hope that the federal
government would start considering Grumman‟s equal employment record in tandem
with the company‟s newly acquired F-14 contract. Long Island CORE chair Lamar Cox
opened the press conference by insisting that Grumman had "consistently followed a
racist policy…by refusing to place black and other minority groups in meaningful
positions.”124 He claimed that except for approximately fifty staff, managerial, and
engineering personnel, all of the other minorities working at Grumman held menial
jobs. 125 He also asserted that only 2% of Grumman's total payroll went to compensating
African-American workers at the time. 126
Sponsors Grumman Black Workers Airing of Their Grievances Here," Great Neck News, 1 October 1969,
124
"Grumman Accused—Denies Bias on Blacks, New York News, 25 March 1969; “Charge Bias
at Grumman; It's Denied," Long Island Press, 25 March 1969. Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12,
NGHC.
125
"Group Charges Bias at Grumman," Suffolk Sun, 25 March 1969; and “Charge Bias at
Grumman; It's Denied,” Long Island Press, 25 March 1969. Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
126
Ibid.
268
In the following days, Cox reported that he had fired off telegrams to the
Department of Labor, the Defense Contract Administration, and the Equal Employment
Opportunity Commission, charging the federal government with “hedging on its legal
obligation” to minorities.127 Trying to use Grumman‟s newly acquired F-14 contract to
his advantage, Cox reminded the public that the federal government could only award
contracts to companies that do not discriminate, as set down in civil rights laws. Cox
noted that CORE and Big Brother (which by his account represented 500 minority
Grummanites at the time) disagreed with the awarding of the Tomcat contract to
Grumman, and he declared that they he would send a five-member delegation to
Washington, DC, later that week to talk with Defense and Labor Department officials.
Cox and Big Brother made it very clear that they intended to pursue federal charges
against Grumman and wanted the government to withhold the F-14 contract from the
company until the matters were resolved.128
Tiring of CORE‟s and Big Brother‟s continued allegations, Grumman decided to
fight back with its own media campaign. Shortly after CORE and Big Brother‟s press
conference, Company Vice President John Rettaliata presented the firm‟s own facts to the
media. Grumman countered charges of racial discrimination with a set of statistics—
127
See and compare, “Acts to Defend Grumman vs. CORE,” Long Island Press, 26 March 1969;
"Grumman Accused—Denies Bias on Blacks,” New York News, 25 March 1969; and “Charge Bias at
Grumman; It's Denied," Long Island Press, 25 March 1969. All found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
128
“Grumman Accused—Denies Bias on Blacks,” New York News, 25 March 1969; “Charge
Bias at Grumman; It's Denied," Long Island Press, 25 March 1969. Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12,
NGHC. Notably, Caupain really wanted Grumman‟s assurance that African Americans would be hired, or
at least trained and used on the new $25 billion F-14 contract. See "Black Workers Protest 'Bias' at
Grumman," Suffolk Sun, 5 August 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
269
figures that Rettaliata said proved that minority representation at the company stood well
above the norm. Rettaliata stated that minorities at the time represented 8%, or
approximately 2,150, of all Grumman employees, double the minority population of
Nassau County. 129 He also noted that no employment decisions or evaluations had been
made at the company, or would be made, based on a person's race, creed, or sex. And
finally, Rettaliata pointed to investigations by the Defense Department's Equal
Opportunity Division. DoD had periodically investigated Grumman over the years, but
had never filed any complaints against the company. When Grumman did receive DoD
suggestions on how to improve race relations, Rettaliata said, Grumman quickly acted on
those recommendations. 130
As the aerospace giant tried to fend off charges of racial discrimination, a local
official decided to enter the fray on the company‟s side. Within days of CORE‟s March
24 news conference, Lou V. Tempera, Suffolk County's Labor Commissioner,
proclaimed that CORE‟s charges against Grumman were "totally unfounded." Tempera
had reviewed his department's referrals to the company, and he could "strongly attest to
the aggressiveness manifested by Grumman in hiring members of minority groups." He
also remembered referring African Americans and Puerto Ricans to Grumman on many
occasions, and said, “they were hired and placed in meaningful positions." Tempera
129
The New York News claimed that Rettaliata said that 8% of the people hired since 1968 were
minorities. This fact seems incorrect compared to all of the other figures presented by different sources.
For the correct information see "Charge Bias at Grumman; It's Denied," Long Island Press, 25 March 1969;
and for the incorrect info see "Grumman Accused—Denies Bias on Blacks, New York News, 25 March
1969. Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
130
“Charge Bias at Grumman; It's Denied,” Long Island Press, 25 March 1969, “CORE,” Section
A-12, NGHC.
270
went on to suggest: “It is unfortunate, indeed, when such a respected organization as
CORE, organized to represent the best interests of minority groups, stoops to this level of
accusation against such a respected corporation.” He concluded: “Such behavior by
CORE not only impairs the image of the minority group organization, but also mitigates
against achievement of their objectives.” 131 In an effort to further bolster his claims,
Tempera, less than forty-eight hours later, revealed that of the supposed 2,151 minority
employees working at Grumman in March 1969, over 1,800 worked in professional,
skilled, or semi-skilled positions, not just menial jobs. 132
CORE supporters were not happy that one of Long Island‟s Labor Commissioners
had sided with Grumman on the issue of race relations, and they immediately called for
his resignation. Lamar Cox opined that “any labor commissioner who sides with business
without the facts cannot be trusted.”133 Cox believed that “Mr. Tempera‟s position
indicates that he is not only an enemy of black people, but an enemy of labor… He
sounds like a „sweetheart‟ labor commissioner and is an irresponsible bigot who has
difficulty dealing with reality.” 134 Unwilling to let Cox have the last word, Tempera shot
back, “It is indeed unfortunate that a representative of a respected organization such as
131
“Acts to Defend Grumman vs. CORE,” Long Island Press, 26 March 1969; and “Grumman
Hiring Called Fair,” Newsday, 26 March 1969. Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
132
“Press Bias Charges Against Grumman,” Long Island Press, 28 March 1969, “CORE,” Section
A-12, NGHC.
133
“Tempera if Denounced for Grumman Position,” Newsday, 28 March 1969, “CORE,” Section
A-12, NGHC.
134
“Press Bias Charges Against Grumman,” Long Island Press, 28 March 1969, “CORE,” Section
A-12, NGHC.
271
CORE is willing to stoop to the level of mud-slinger in order to defend his irresponsible
and unsupported accusations against Grumman.” 135
As the insults continued, George Pettengill, the new Director of the Suffolk
County Human Relations Commission, also decided to weigh in on the situation,
ostensibly as an impartial investigator. Despite the fact that the commission had publicly
accused Grumman of racial discrimination and had lobbied Senator Robert Kennedy to
investigate the firm approximately fourteen months earlier, Pettengill claimed he would
investigate CORE‟s charges in an impartial and fair manner. He stressed that the
commission only wanted to determine whether Grumman had violated any civil rights
laws.136 As Pettengill and his organization prepared to begin the investigation, CORE and
Big Brother launched yet another attack on the Long Island company.
On March 28, a coalition of five CORE and Big Brother representatives carried
out their promise to meet with officials at the Department of Labor‟s Office of Federal
Contract Compliance in Washington, DC.137 The group, which included four
Grummanites, consisted of Robert Garrett, William Page, Robert Caupain, Robert
Keaton, and Richard Carruthers.138 The delegation carried with it a formal complaint
135
“Tempera if Denounced for Grumman Position,” Newsday, 28 March 1969, “CORE,” Section
A-12, NGHC.
136
“Grumman Hiring to be Probed,” Newsday, 29 March 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
137
“Affidavit,” Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for the
District of Columbia, Agency Box 204, National Archives at Suitland, MD; and “Press Bias Charges
Against Grumman,” Long Island Press, 28 March 1969 in "CORE," Section A-12/NGHC.
138
NGHC.
“U.S. to Study Charge of Bias at Grumman,” Newsday, 1 April 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12,
272
signed by more than 600 Grumman employees that attested to the company‟s alleged
racial discrimination. 139 Still, although a federal contract compliance officer informed
them that their best course of action would be to file a complaint under Executive Order
11246, the group did not. Why they failed to do so is unclear.140 Nevertheless, the
compliance office did forward the information from the delegation‟s visit to the
Department of Defense (DoD) for investigation. 141
On April 1, Big Brother‟s Chairman Robert Caupain turned up the pressure even
more by announcing that he had collected more than 200 specific written grievances from
Grummanites to back African Americans‟ claims of racial discrimination. Caupain
suggested that the complaints were not intended to threaten the company, but rather to
help workers understand why the company did not employ any African-American
foremen, plant managers, or other authority figures. Big Brother wanted to put African
139
“Grumman Hiring to be Probed,” Suffolk Sun, 1 April 1969; and “U.S. to Study Charge of Bias
at Grumman,” Newsday, 1 April 1969. Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC. Interestingly,
Lamar Cox was assured by Grumman officials that no intimidation would occur toward the 600 plus
Grummanites, both black and white, who signed the petition against Grumman in March 1969. See “U.S.
to Investigate „Bias‟ at Grumman,” Long Island Press, 1 April 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC; and
“Transcript of Proceedings,” June 19, 1970, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S.
District Court for the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204, National Archives at Suitland, MD.
140
“Motion to Dismiss or in the Alternative for Summary Judgment,” Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et
al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204, National
Archives at Suitland, MD; and “Affidavit,” Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District
Court for the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204, National Archives at Suitland, MD.
141
The Labor Department said, on March 31, 1969 that it would ask the DoD to investigate
CORE‟s charges against Grumman. The investigation was to commence within 60 days. See “Grumman
Hiring to be Probed,” Suffolk Sun, 1 April 1969; and “U.S. to Study Charge of Bias at Grumman,
Newsday, 1 April 1969. Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
273
Americans in managerial and oversight positions so that they could “pull up other black
people.”142
By April 4 Grumman officials had grown increasingly angry, particularly with the
Suffolk County Human Relations Commission, which had decided the prior week to
investigate CORE‟s charges. When the commission requested information about
Grumman‟s employment practices, the company refused to cooperate; it referred the
commission to the EEOC, which had reports about the company‟s hiring record already
on file. 143 Frustrated with Grumman, the commission decided to push the matter. George
Pettengill quickly fired off a three-page letter about the firm‟s lack of cooperation to
several U.S. Senators and local representatives, including New York Senators Jacob
Javits (R) and Charles Goodell (R), Senator Edward Kennedy of Massachusetts (D), and
local representatives Otis G. Pike of Riverhead (D) and James R. Grover of Babylon (R).
When the media pressed a Grumman spokesperson about Pettengill‟s letter, the
spokesperson simply replied: “Why he‟s doing that is beyond me. The information is
available to him and all he needs to do is write a letter. He‟s in closer contact with these
agencies than he is with us.”144 Although Pettengill reassured Grumman officials that the
142
“Blacks at Grumman List Complaints,” Newsday, 2 April 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12,
NGHC.
143
“Suffolk Presses Grumman Probe,” Newsday, 5 April 1969; “Grumman Rejects Bid for
Report,” Suffolk Sun, 4 April 1969; and “Rights Unit Seeks Grumman Data, Long Island Press, 5 April
1969. All are found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
144
NGHC.
“Grumman Rejects Bid for Report,” Suffolk Sun, 4 April 1969; “CORE,” Section A-12,
274
investigation was routine and that the commission was “making no accusations of guilt or
innocence,” it was obvious that Grumman was not going to cooperate.145
As Pettengill and Grumman fought, CORE and Big Brother decided to pressure
the company even more by having four African American Grummanites meet with a
reporter from the labor newspaper Interavia. The four men were part of the group of 200
who had submitted written complaints about Grumman‟s racial discrimination. While
Long Islanders were learning about the feud between Pettengill and Grumman officials
from their local newspapers, they were also reading about the experiences of
Grummanites Arthur Davis, Wesley Freeman, Verlyn Curry, and Robert Barnes. 146
As Interavia revealed, Arthur Davis of Roosevelt, Long Island had accepted a
position at Grumman as a dishwasher in 1967 hoping that the job would help him move
up in the company once he got his foot in the door. With more than two and a half years
of college experience, Davis and his interviewer both felt confident that once he joined
the company, promotions would soon follow. But when Davis failed to obtain a job in
the engineering department, the chemistry lab, or the data processing office, he began to
realize that he could only go so far in the firm. When he asked the personnel department
for help, strangely they told him they could not do anything because “their hands were
145
“Suffolk Presses Grumman Probe,” Newsday, 5 April 1969; “Grumman Rejects Bid for
Report,” Suffolk Sun, 4 April 1969; and “Rights Unit Seeks Grumman Data, Long Island Press, 5 April
1969. All are found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
146
NGHC.
“Grumman Keeping Us Down: Blacks,” Interavia, 4 April 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12,
275
tied.” Davis had been unable to obtain any of the positions he sought; he moved from
washing dishes to being in charge of filling the company‟s vending machines.147
Wesley Freeman of Hempstead, Long Island had labored alongside Davis in the
kitchen. Freeman had originally applied for a position as a Grumman drill press operator
and continued to seek the job for more than four years, but never received a reply from
the company. When one of Freeman‟s friends suggested that he apply for a position as a
porter, however, he secured that job within two days. Although Freeman interviewed for
a higher-paying position as a riveter in 1968, the personnel department still had not
contacted him by the time of the Interavia interview. Freeman was washing dishes for the
company at $63 a week at the time. 148
Robert Barnes of Hempstead had also suffered some of the same frustrations
when he applied for a Grumman position that suited his skills and desires. Although
Barnes had been in charge of a shipping office before joining Grumman in 1963, he had
only secured a position in Grumman‟s maintenance department “digging holes, driving
tractors, shoveling snow, or pushing a broom.” Barnes had continually applied for
positions in the transportation department, but he had never secured a job there. He
eventually moved out of the maintenance department and into a position as an inter-office
company messenger at the rate of $2.85 an hour.149
147
At the rate of $2.55 per hour. “Grumman Keeping Us Down: Blacks,” Interavia, 4 April 1969,
148
“Grumman Keeping Us Down: Blacks,” Interavia, 4 April 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12,
149
Ibid.
NGHC.
276
Verlyn Curry, also of Hempstead, was the only man in the group who had
graduated from college. After receiving his police science degree from New York State
Agricultural and Technical College at Farmingdale, Curry had worked for a while as a
security guard for the New York World‟s Fair and several private detective firms, and as
an MP for the Air Force. But when he applied for a job in Grumman‟s security office, he
only received an offer to become a dishwasher. Like Davis, Curry believed that the job
would allow him to get inside the company and work his way up to the position he really
wanted; at least, that is what the people in the personnel department had led him to
believe. But his request for a transfer to that department went unfulfilled. Still, unlike
Davis and Freeman, Curry did move out of the kitchen and onto the shop floor, where he
landed a position as a power brake operator at $91 a week.150
The average hourly wage of aerospace workers nationwide was $3.00 an hour at
this time; at $2.30 to $2.85, these four men earned considerably less.151 Although the
$3.00 an hour figure included highly skilled laborers, these men‟s desires to move into
higher skilled positions had been systematically thwarted, even where education and past
experience seemed to indicate their qualifications. Based on these men‟s accounts,
Grumman‟s ethic of nondiscrimination seemed more philosophical than practical.
By April 7, Labor Commissioner Tempera had reached his limit. Speaking to
reporters about the accusations against Grumman, Tempera said: “We‟re cutting our own
150
151
Ibid.
According to union representatives, the average hourly wage of aerospace workers in the Los
Angeles area was approximately $3.00 per hour. See U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission,
Hearings Before the United States Equal Employment Opportunity Commission on Utilization of Minority
and Women Workers in Certain Major Industries, Los Angeles, CA, March 12-14, 1969, 90.
277
throats by continuing this name-calling and accusation… All the accusations of
discrimination are being blown out of proportion.” Tempera went on to assert that
Human Relations Commissioner Pettengill was “unaware of the seriousness of the
situation and what it means to Long Island‟s economy. Defense contracts enable
Grumman to employ 36,000 people. If those contracts are suspended, if Grumman is not
allowed to compete for them, Long Island‟s labor force will suffer a tremendous blow.”
Tempera concluded: “Let‟s leave it in the hands of the proper investigatory parties so we
don‟t jeopardize Grumman‟s position as a competitor in this vital and valuable industry.
What is the sense of possibly winning a battle and losing the war? Jobs are important for
everyone, black and white.”152 Clearly, Tempera was very concerned that CORE‟s and
Big Brother‟s accusations might scuttle the Grumman‟s F-14 contract.
Within a week, the Department of Defense launched an investigation into
Grumman‟s employment and promotion practices. The proceedings were the result of Big
Brother‟s trip to Washington, DC; in addition, several African-American Grummanites
had begun complaining to the New York Regional Office of the Contract Compliance
Office, among other agencies, during the latter part of 1968.153 The investigation,
conducted by a four-man team for New York‟s Regional Office of the Defense Supply
Agency, began on April 14.154 Its main goals were to look at all aspects of Grumman‟s
152
“‟Out of Proportion:‟ Tempera Decries Grumman Probe,” Suffolk Sun, 7 April 1969, “CORE,”
Section A-12, NGHC.
153
“U.S. to Investigate „Bias‟ at Grumman,” Long Island Press, 1 April 1969, “CORE,” Section
A-12, NGHC.
154
278
“hiring cycle,” including recruitment, hiring, promotions, and pay rates, as well as focus
on the company‟s adherence to EO 11246.155 After thoroughly plumbing Grumman‟s
personnel records and interviewing several employees, the four-man team concluded its
investigation three weeks later on May 10.156 A few days later, the DoD released the
team‟s findings, and with the exception of a few suggestions about implementing some
new affirmative action policies, with which Grumman agreed to comply right away, the
report essentially cleared the company of any charges of “overt” discrimination.157 The
most damning part of the report, however, noted that the company's "record and
procedure for promoting equal employment opportunity were not satisfactory, and
Grumman was determined not to be in compliance." Nevertheless, after quickly
negotiating a revision of the company‟s policies (which included more frequent reporting
and monitoring) with the New York Regional Office, on May 27 the DoD certified the
aerospace giant as being in compliance with all civil rights laws and Executive Orders.158
Archives at Suitland, MD; “U.S. Begins Job Bias Study at Grumman, Newsday 15 April 1969; “Probe at
Grumman Begins Tomorrow, Long Island Press 13 April 1969; and “Grumman Probe Starts Today,”
Suffolk Sun 14 April, 1969, in "CORE," Section A-12/NGHC.
155
“U.S. Begins Job Bias Study at Grumman, Newsday 15 April 1969; “Probe at Grumman
Begins Tomorrow, Long Island Press 13 April 1969; and “Grumman Probe Starts Today,” Suffolk Sun 14
April, 1969. All found in "CORE," Section A-12/NGHC.
156
Ibid.
157
“CORE Plans Suit to Kill Grumman Defense Contracts,” Long Island Press, 19 May 1969;
“Grumman Bias Battle is Spurred by CORE,” New York News, 20 May 1969; and “CORE to file
Grumman Suit,” Suffolk Sun, 19 May 1969. All found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
158
Archives at Suitland, MD; and “Memorandum of Points and Authorities in Support of Defendants‟ Motions
to Dismiss or in the Alternative for Summary Judgment,” 5-6, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 693142, U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204, National Archives at Suitland,
MD.
279
The report angered and frustrated CORE and Big Brother, but the two
organizations had a contingency plan in place. Within hours of the release of the DoD‟s
report, CORE announced that it had hired the well-known New York civil rights lawyer
William Kunstler to bring a lawsuit against Grumman and the federal government.159
Kunstler was the director and lead lawyer of the nonprofit Center for Constitutional
Rights, which had fought for such clients as Students for a Democratic Society, the Black
Panthers, the Chicago Seven, and CORE, among others. On Sunday, May 18, as Apollo
10 streaked toward the Moon with Grumman‟s Lunar Module in its payload, CORE and
Kunstler announced the suit and asked the community for its support for what they
believed would be a very long and costly court battle. Kunstler compared the situation
between African Americans and Grumman to the biblical battle between David and
Goliath. He also noted the novelty of the suit—it would be the first time a major federal
contractor had been sued for discrimination. 160 Ironically, at the same time that the Long
Island Press featured the stunning pictures of the Moon taken by the Apollo 10
astronauts, it also carried the story about CORE‟s lawsuit.161
159
Grumman Suit,” Suffolk Sun, 19 May 1969. All found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC. At the time,
Kunstler was still in the early stages of formulating a lawsuit strategy. There was the chance that Grumman
might not even be named in the suit. The targets might instead be the secretaries of labor and defense and
the members of contract compliance division that sat on the investigating committee.
160
Grumman Suit,” Suffolk Sun, 19 May 1969. All found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
161
“CORE Plans Suit to Kill Grumman Defense Contracts,” Long Island Press, 19 May 1969,
280
While Kunstler and his colleagues prepared their case, the entire Grumman
workforce, regardless of race, nervously anticipated some downsizing. Although
Grumman managers had logically believed that the F-14 Program would absorb many of
the company‟s former Apollo workers as the lunar program wound down, a number of
intertwining incidents started to occur in the summer of 1969 that forced serious
reductions in the company's workforce, much to the surprise of many Grummanites. As
discussed in greater detail in Chapter Five, from 1969 to 1973 Grumman faced serious
problems with its F-14 contract, and it lost the primary Space Shuttle contract to North
American Rockwell. These incidents combined with the period‟s major economic
recession and triggered a more than four-year downward spiral at the firm, a setback that
led to a series of massive layoffs. By 1973, over 15,000 engineers and workers, or about
one-third of Grumman's workforce, had lost their jobs. As African Americans turned up
the pressure on Grumman and the federal government in the summer of 1969, they were
fighting to secure more of the shrinking number of jobs at the Long Island aerospace
giant as a major round of layoffs began.
On June 19, 1969, Robert Caupain called a press conference at CORE‟s Long
Island headquarters in Hempstead at which he threatened to “close down the Grumman
Corporation in Bethpage if discrimination practices are not halted.” Caupain warned:
“We are going to make a change even if it means bloodshed.” Big Brother wanted to
place qualified African Americans in meaningful positions and to stop the “intimidation
by Uncle Toms and whites in managerial positions at Grumman, including… threatened
layoffs if blacks continue with their lawsuit against Grumman.” Big Brother‟s leader said
that the firm had already laid off about 10% of its workforce, or approximately 3,500
281
workers. He also mentioned three African Americans in Grumman‟s upper management
by name—Lloyd Lee, an assistant to Jack Rettaliata; William Byas, assistant personnel
director; and Ossie Williams, a corporate manager and lead engineer on the LM
program—whom he believed had threatened African-American employees‟ jobs if they
cooperated with CORE‟s impending lawsuit. Caupain concluded the press conference by
noting that Grumman officials had “told blacks to cool off until after the summer so that
promotions could be worked up.” Grumman denied all of Caupain‟s charges with the
exception of the layoffs and once again decided to follow a strategy of letting statistics
speak for themselves. Jack Rettaliata insisted that African Americans comprised 8% of
Grumman‟s workforce, even though they only made up 4% of the population in
Grumman‟s home county of Nassau. From Grumman‟s perspective, the company
obviously did not discriminate.162
As the summer wore on, CORE and Big Brother collected evidence that they
could use to justify a strike against Grumman. By the latter part of June, the two
organizations had set up a trailer outside the company‟s gates to take depositions from
African-American Grummanites about discrimination that they had experienced at the
corporation.163 Then, on June 22, more than two hundred African-American
Grummanites met with CORE and Big Brother for more than two hours behind closed
162
“Grumman Charged Anew With Bias,” Newsday, 20 June 1969; and “Black Organization
Threatens to Shut Down Grumman,” Long Island Press 20 June 1969. Both found in “CORE,” Section A12, NGHC.
163
NGHC.
“Grumman Charged Anew With Bias,” Newsday, 20 June 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12,
282
doors to discuss the threat of the layoffs of minorities. 164 When the media pressed
participants about what took place at the meeting, no one divulged anything. One did
note, however, “It was all togetherness, baby.”165
Tensions continued to increase between Grumman and the civil rights groups
throughout the summer. Within days of one of the company‟s greatest
accomplishments—the historic Apollo 11 lunar landing on July 20—many Grummanites
read continued press coverage of a threatened strike against the company, which would
be led by Caupain and other African Americans. On August 1, Big Brother promised a
walk-out by more than 1,500 black Grummanites if some recently laid-off African
Americans did not regain their jobs. Caupain told reporters that twenty-three black
Grummanites had just received pink slips the day before and more than two hundred had
lost their jobs since May 1. Those actions, he claimed, violated an agreement that he and
Grumman President Lew Evans had reached in June, in which Evans had assured
Caupain that he would take steps "to insure that any planned reduction in force will not
operate unfairly to the detriment of minority group employees." 166
Earlier in the year, Grumman had announced that it would gradually lay off
roughly 10% of its approximately 35,000 employees over an eighteen-month period.
However, Caupain claimed that African Americans represented a far greater percentage
164
Interestingly, Caupain claimed that some African Americans did not receive promotions at
Grumman because they wore beards and Afros, see “Black Organization Threatens to Shut Down
Grumman,” Long Island Press, 20 June 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
165
"Blacks at Grumman Meet on Complaints," Newsday, 23, June 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12,
166
“Black Walkout Threatened at Grumman,” Newsday, 2 August 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12,
NGHC.
NGHC.
283
of those laid off than that figure suggested. He told the Department of Defense as much
in a telegram. In his alert to the DoD, Caupain claimed that African Americans
represented seventeen to 20% of the total number of workers recently laid off, and that
action, he noted, had decimated an already meager workforce of African Americans at
the company. In an effort to correct the situation, Caupain wanted to meet with Evans to
get satisfaction, and he threatened that if he did not, “we'll pass the word to black
brothers and sisters and we'll walk out. We'll close Grumman down." 167 Caupain applied
more pressure to the company by alleging that those associated with Big Brother were the
first ones being laid off. He also noted that there were no African-American
representatives on the workforce reduction review board and that black Grummanites in
positions of responsibility lived under intimidation; in other words, they were puppets of
the company‟s white leaders—doing what they were told to do. Caupain clearly wanted
the issue of seniority waived in regard to layoffs for African Americans until the number
of minority workers in skilled jobs increased; he charged that seniority rules had not been
applied equally between white executives and black workers.168 As he clearly noted:
“How can we ever build up seniority if they keep laying us off?" 169
167
Ibid.
168
"Blacks Picket Grumman Over 'Bias'," Newsday, 5 August 1969; and "Grumman Blacks to
Fight Firings," L.I. Press, 2 August 1969". Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
169
"Negro Group Pickets Grumman on Bias," Long Island Press, 5 August 1969. Notably, in a
September 24, 1969 speech, Caupain supposedly said "under the federal contract compliance, law
allowances are provided wherein if a company is below a certain percentage of black people. Their
seniority system is unfair because for too many years black people were not afforded the opportunity to
work at these various companies." See Harold J. Russell's column in "Alu…," Westbury Times, 2 October
1969. Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
284
On Monday, August 4, the date that Big Brother had threatened to strike, Caupain
met with Jack Rettaliata, but he did not like the way the conversation went. Caupain
claimed that twenty-three African Americans and Puerto Ricans had received pink slips
the previous week, even as Grumman hired another thirty to thirty-five whites. 170
Rettaliata countered with his own statistics. The Vice President put the number of
minorities laid off at eighteen, and noted that they only represented a small percentage of
the more than 150 employees who had recently lost their jobs. He went on to say that of
the 1,886 Grummanites who had been laid off or who had quit since May 1969, only 165
had been minorities. Rettaliata concluded that of the approximate 36,000 employees still
at the company at that time, about 2,200 were African Americans. 171 Caupain pressed Big
Brother‟s demands, asking Rettaliata to rehire the African Americans who had been
downsized, to train minorities for use on the F-14 program, to revise the company's hiring
and firing policy, and to fully disclose the company‟s records pertaining to workforce
170
Grumman actually did hire all white "engineers and college graduates" that day, while most of
the 18 minority workers laid off the previous week were "primarily production workers." See "Grumman
Plant Picketed By Blacks Over Layoffs," New York News, 5 August 1969; and "Blacks Picket Grumman
Over 'Bias'," Newsday, 5 August 1969. Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
171
Grumman and Big Brother disagreed about the numbers of workers that were black. While
Grumman claimed that 2,200 of its 36,000 employees were minorities, Big Brother claimed the figure was
only 1,200. Furthermore, some newspaper reports are in conflict about the official numbers from
Grumman. Newsweek, for example, reported that Grumman claimed 2,200 minorities out of 36,000
employees, whereas the Suffolk Sun reported it was 2,000 out of 35,000 employees. Based on other
discrepancies in fact, the Newsweek figure seems like the more reliable of the two statistics. See and
compare "Blacks Picket Grumman Over 'Bias'," Newsday, 5 August 1969; and "Black Workers Protest
'Bias' at Grumman," Suffolk Sun 5 August 1969. Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
285
reductions. Rettaliata refused, citing his belief that Big Brother was not a legitimate
bargaining group.172
Caupain used the rest of his lunch hour to protest against the company by
picketing near the firm‟s personnel building. Approximately sixty to seventy of his fellow
African American Grummanites joined him. Although the demonstration remained
peaceful, the company grew concerned about a few protest placards. Some read "Blacks
work at Grumman for nothing—no respect, no money, no advancement" and "How the
hell can you get seniority when you are laid off?" As his lunch hour ended, Caupain
promised that he would continue to stage daily demonstrations until changes occurred.173
Little came of Caupain‟s August protests, but by the end of September he was
ready to step up the rhetoric to try to rally more support for the cause. In a bold speech on
the 24th, he pronounced: “The Grumman Aerospace defense industry is a giant Goliath….
and poor people are going to slay it. We will make it fall to its knees and obey the
Federal employment compliance laws against discrimination and make it recognize its
responsibilities to minority people.”174 Caupain‟s speech seemed calculated to drum up
support for a new organization he had just formed with the help of Big Brother and
172
"Blacks Picket Grumman Over 'Bias'," Newsday, 5 August 1969; "Black Workers Protest 'Bias'
at Grumman," Suffolk Sun, 5 August 1969; "Grumman Plant Picketed By Blacks Over Layoffs," New
York News, 5 August 1969; and "Negro Group Pickets Grumman on Bias," Long Island Press, 5 August
1969. All found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
173
Ibid. Notably, as of August 1969, the Nassau County Human Rights Commission was
supposedly trying to mediate the dispute between Grumman and Big Brother. See "Blacks Picket Grumman
Over 'Bias'," Newsday, 5 August 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
174
The quote is from a September 24, 1969 speech by Caupain, as noted by Harold J. Russell, an
African American journalist, in Russell‟s article “Alu…” Westbury Times, 2 October 1969, “CORE,”
Section A-12, NGHC.
286
CORE—the Long Island Black Federation of Labor (LIBFL), which he hoped would
help African Americans find jobs and job training, as well as ensure fair employment
practices. The group planned a one-day "Black Monday" or "Black Solidarity Day"
protest strike for September 29; national African-American leaders had called for the
action to protest discrimination against blacks in the construction trades and other
fields. 175 The LIBFL planned to meet outside the gate of Grumman's personnel office at
8:00 AM, picket until noon, and then travel by motorcade to the Ethical Humanist
Society in Garden City for a rally with other social movement groups, who had signed on
not only to show support for the anti-discrimination drive against Grumman, but also
against all Long Island businesses that treated African Americans unfairly. 176 As Bill
Page, the Vice Chairman of Long Island CORE, noted, "Grumman is only a symbol. We
will hit all companies, banks and businesses on Long Island because they all
discriminate."177
Despite Caupain and CORE's hopes that at least 10,000 people would show up for
the protest, only five people stood at the gate near Grumman's Personnel Department at 8
175
For a brief description of the nationwide strike, see "80 Pickets at Grumman Charge
Discrimination," Newsday, 30 September 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
176
For the entire story of the "Black Monday" protest and the formation of the Black Federation
of Labor, see and compare “Black Activist Group Plans Job Bias Protest,” Long Island Press, 25 September
1969; "LI Blacks Urge Strikes Monday," Newsday, 25 September 1969; "Black Labor Unit is Formed on
LI," Newsday, 27 September 1969; "'Black Monday' Rally is Planned on Hiring Bias," Long Island Press,
28 September 1969; "'Black Monday' Protest Off to a Slow Start," Long Island Press, 29 September 1969;
"Blacks Picket Grumman Corp.," The Cincinnati Post and Times Star, 29 September 1969; "Labor Group
Plans Rally," Suffolk Sun, 29 September 1969, and "Black Picket Grumman Corp.; Claim Bias in Layoffs,"
Jet, 30 October 1969. All found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
177
"LI Blacks Urge Strikes Monday," Newsday, 25 September 1969; "Black Labor Unit Is Formed
on LI," Newsday, 27 September 1969; and Black Activist Group Plans Job Bias Protest," Long Island
Press, 25 September, 1969. All found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
287
AM.178 By 9:00A.M., the number had only reached twenty-five, and, by the end of the
demonstration at noon, only about sixty to eighty protesters, African Americans and
whites, including former and then currently employed Grummanites, had shown up. 179
Ironically, Grumman security guards and Nassau County policemen, who only stood and
watched the situation, outnumbered the protesters.180 Most Grummanites seemed largely
unaffected by the demonstration as both African-American and white workers ignored
the picket line. 181 A Grumman spokesman also noted no significant absenteeism at the
company that day. 182 Although the company promised not to make any serious reprisals
against the protesters, Grumman security guards did write down the names of the
demonstrators as well as their license plate numbers, supposedly only to note whose pay
to dock that day.183 When the group finally made its way to the Ethical Humanist Society
Building in Garden City, Lamar Cox addressed them and said that their unity would help
178
"LI Blacks Urge Strikes Monday," Newsday, 25 September 1969; "'Black Monday' Rally is
Planned on Hiring Bias," Long Island Press, 28 September 1969; and "'Black Monday' Protest Off to a
Slow Start," Long Island Press, 29 September 1969. All found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
179
While the Cincinnati Post and Jet magazine only stated that 60 protesters showed up, Newsday
placed the number at about 80. See and compare "Blacks Picket Grumman Corp.," The Cincinnati Post and
Times Star, 29 September 1969; "Blacks Picket Grumman Corp.; Claim Bias in Layoffs," Jet, 30 October
1969; and "80 Pickets at Grumman Charge Discrimination," Newsday, 30 September 1969. All found in
180
"'Black Monday' Protest Off to a Slow Star," Long Island Press, 29 September 1969, “CORE,”
Section A-12, NGHC.
181
"Blacks Picket Grumman Corp.," The Cincinnati Post and Times Star, 29 September 1969,
182
"'Black Monday' Protest Off to a Slow Star," Long Island Press, 29 September 1969; "80
Pickets at Grumman Charge Discrimination," Newsday, 30 September 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12,
NGHC.
183
"Black Activist Group Plans Job Bias Protest," Long Island Press, 25 September, 1969,
288
end discrimination. Apparently, few attended the meeting; Newsday estimated that only
eighty people came to the lunchtime rally. Still, William Page of CORE declared the
entire day a success.184
By the middle of fall, CORE and Big Brother were frustrated by the lack of
movement brought about by protests and direct action. As of October 1, Big Brother
claimed that only approximately 1,500 Grummanites, of a workforce of more than 35,000
workers, were minorities. They insisted that that figure made up only about 4% of the
workforce, in an area where minorities represented between 15% and 20% of the
population.185 Caupain and his colleagues also claimed that there were “no black
employees in decision-making positions; less than five in managerial positions; a few in
recently created token staff positions.”186 The group went on to state: “The rest are
trapped in menial jobs. More than 50% of the janitors and porters are black. Less than
3% of all salaries and bonuses paid out by Grumman are paid to black employees." 187
Following a trend that had emerged among many civil rights groups around the
country by the end of the 1960s, CORE and Big Brother decided to proceed with their
184
“'Black Monday' Protest Off to a Slow Star," Long Island Press, 29 September 1969; and "80
Pickets at Grumman Charge Discrimination," Newsday, 30 September 1969. Both found in “CORE,”
Section A-12, NGHC.
185
It is important to note that Big Brother appears to have been including Puerto Ricans and other
Hispanics in its 15-20% of the population figure, even through the group appears not to have stated that fact
as such. For more on Big Brother‟s statistics, see "Sponsors Grumman Black Workers Airing of Their
Grievances Here," Great Neck News, 1 October 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
186
"Sponsors Grumman Black Workers Airing of Their Grievances Here," Great Neck News, 1
October 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
187
Ibid.
289
threatened lawsuit, lacking any other effective strategy.188 On November 3, 1969,
William Kunstler and a team of several key civil rights lawyers, including Floyd B.
McKissick, a past National Director of CORE, filed a lawsuit in the U.S. District Court
for the District of Columbia, with the intent of barring Grumman from receiving funding
for any of its federal contracts until the company could demonstrate that it had eliminated
discrimination in its operations.189 The class action suit, which included nineteen
disgruntled African American Grummanites, charged the aerospace company with racial
discrimination in its hiring, promotions, and layoffs. It claimed that although Grumman
had agreed to eliminate such problems, it had not done so.190
Affirmative Action and Federal
Civil Action 3142-69
Believing that the lawsuit would have a more powerful effect if they targeted the
federal government as an instrument of racial discrimination, Kunstler and his team
brought suit against Secretary of Labor George P. Shultz, Secretary of Defense Melvin R.
188
For more on the nationwide trend away from direct action and protest to turning toward the
court for answers, see Weiss, “We Want Jobs,” 82.
189
The plaintiffs‟ team of lawyers included Kunstler, McKissick (who was the National Director
of CORE from January 1966 to 1968, and who at that time was working on the Soul City, NC lawsuit),
Morton Stavis and Arthur Kinoy, members of Kunstler‟s staff, and Philip J. Hirschkop of Washington, DC.
See “Complaint for Injunctive and Declaratory Relief,” 13, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 693142, U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204, National Archives at Suitland,
MD.
190
"Suit Charges Bias by Grumman Corp.," The Evening Star, 4 November 1969, “CORE,”
Section A-12, NGHC. Although Lamar Cox had called for all African Americans on Long Island to support
their cause and join in a motorcade to Washington, DC to file the lawsuit on October 25, it is unclear
whether the motorcade actually took place. Given that the suit took effect on November 3, 1969, it would
appear that the motorcade did not take place, at least not on October 25. Whatever the case may be,
information about the planned motorcade can be found in an essay by African American columnist Harold
J. Russell in "Alu…," Westbury Times, 2 October 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
290
Laird, NASA Administrator Dr. Thomas O. Paine, and Ward McCreedy, Acting Director
of the Department of Labor‟s Office of Federal Contract Compliance, not the Grumman
Corporation. Federal Civil Action 3142-69 specifically charged the four defendants with
“knowingly permitting and condoning racial discrimination in employment by
government contractors” in violation of Executive Order 11246.191 The plaintiffs
particularly demanded
a preliminary and permanent injunction against the
allocation and use of the funds of the United States to
finance, in whole or in part, racially discriminatory
employment practices of a private corporation, and to
declare such allocation and use violative of Executive
Order 11246 of the President of the United States, …and
the due process clause of the Fifth Amendment to the
Constitution of the United States.192
In other words, they insisted that the federal government cut off funding to Grumman
until the company stopped discriminating.
Kunstler and his team‟s lawsuit contained a number of complaints, key points,
and strategic remedies. Each of the nineteen plaintiffs was an African American who was
(or had been) a Grummanite, or who had sought employment at the company at least
once. Some of the lawsuit‟s more specific allegations included claims that Grumman had
denied African Americans employment even though whites "with no greater
qualifications have been employed." 193 The company, the suit alleged, had also
191
“Complaint for Injunctive and Declaratory Relief,” 2, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File
69-3142, U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204, National Archives at Suitland,
MD.
192
Ibid., 1-2.
193
Ibid., 8.
291
overlooked African Americans while whites with no greater qualifications had received
promotions.194 The plaintiffs charged that Grumman laid off African American workers
while retaining whites with the same skills, and they claimed that the company kept
African Americans locked in the same jobs longer than whites. 195 Furthermore, the
lawsuit claimed that African Americans consistently worked more menial jobs than
whites at most of the company‟s facilities and that African Americans were afforded
fewer educational and training opportunities than whites. 196 Finally, Federal Civil Action
3142-69 charged that black Grummanites faced more frequent disciplinary actions than
whites and received harsher punishments than whites for the same offenses. 197
One of the major arguments that Kunstler and his team used was that EO 11246
required contractors who had a $1 million bid or more to show that they were in
compliance with the order via “affirmative action” before the federal government could
award the contract. The Executive Order required that a firm‟s first-tier subcontractors
also comply. 198 But, according to Kunstler and the plaintiffs, both the federal government
and Grumman had violated the order. They claimed that even though the DoD and
Department of Labor‟s May 1969 review of Grumman had found the company not guilty
194
Ibid.
195
Ibid.
196
Ibid.
197
Ibid.
198
Technically, the federal government was supposed to review whether a company was in
compliance with the order six months prior to the awarding of a contract. If the government found that a
company had any deficiencies in compliance, then the firm and the government were to draw up a formal
292
of any “overt discrimination,” the report had uncovered some "problem areas" in
implementing certain aspects of the affirmative action requirements of 11246. Kunstler
and his team claimed that the report had uncovered that Grumman had failed “to adopt
and implement a policy of fair recruitment and hiring of black men and women,” "to
eliminate policies of racial preference in placement, promotion, and upgrading," and "to
take affirmative action in selecting black employees for participation in company
sponsored training programs."199
Although Grumman had agreed to draw up a new affirmative action program to
remedy the situation after the DoD‟s report came out, the plaintiffs did not accept the
company‟s supposed changes and progress. Kunstler claimed that "Grumman has made
no significant changes in its discriminatory policies and the defendants [the government‟s
representatives] have taken no steps to terminate any of the contractual relationships of
the U.S. Government, or to take any other step effectively to enforce the requirements of
non-discriminatory practices of government contractors." The suit declared that the
"single identifiable change that has occurred following the aforesaid review is that in
respect to layoffs at Grumman.” As Kunstler noted, layoffs had “been heaviest upon the
blacks [sic], firstly because of discriminatory layoffs, and secondly because even the
application of routine seniority rule means that blacks, newly hired because of a belated
recognition of their civil rights, are the first laid off." 200 Kunstler and the plaintiffs
written schedule and plan for how those problems would be solved. It was the responsibility of the federal
contract compliance officer and agency to make sure that such a review took place. See ibid., 10.
199
Ibid., 11.
200
Ibid.
293
insisted that the Department of Defense strictly enforce the law as provided under
Executive Order 11246.201
Having laid down a set of rather stern charges against the defendants, Kunstler
and his team stood ready for a protracted battle. But they would have to wait a little while
before charging ahead. As is customary in such lawsuits, the court granted the defense a
three-month continuance to prepare its rebuttal to the plaintiffs‟ charges. Both sides
knew the importance of the case and its implications, and they would have until February
of the following year to prepare their final arguments.
Grumman, the NAACP, and Affordable
Housing in Oyster Bay
At approximately the same time that Kunstler, CORE, and Big Brother launched
their legal assault on Grumman and the federal government, the NAACP began its own
campaign in Grumman's backyard, which would also affect the company and its
employees, particularly its African-American workers. One of the major problems for
African Americans at Grumman, and for the minorities who wanted to work there, was a
serious lack of decent and affordable housing close to the factory. Keenly aware of the
problem, NAACP officials realized that the recently initiated Civil Rights Act of 1968
had incorporated open housing provisions for the first time. They consequently planned
201
Ibid.
294
to use the act to help them desegregated the predominantly white communities of Long
Island. 202
In mid-October 1969, almost a full month after “Black Monday,” the NAACP
petitioned the town of Oyster Bay, Long Island, one of New York City's wealthiest and
whitest suburbs, to rezone half its vacant land for small-lot houses.203 NAACP officials
specifically wanted the town of Oyster Bay to open up approximately 1,500 acres of its
undeveloped land for people needing low or moderate-income housing.204 Essentially,
Long Island‟s housing laws at the time only zoned large lots for private dwellings, and
although local companies like Grumman (which employed approximately 35,000 people)
were located in the Oyster Bay area, very few of the firm‟s workers could afford to live
there. These workers had to spend a significant portion of their incomes commuting to
work every day; if African Americans and other minorities could live closer to
Grumman‟s main plants, the NAACP reasoned, they might have a better chance of
202
For more on the Civil Rights Act of 1968‟s incorporation of open housing provisions, see
203
The National Observer, 27 October 1969; "NAACP Pushes for O. Bay Housing," Newsday, 19
November 1969; "NAACP Hits Zoning Code Bias in Suburbs," Chicago Defender, 22 November 1969; and
"NAACP Attacks Lily-White Suburbs," The Defender, 20 November 1969. For more on the high
percentage of whites living in Oyster Bay, see "Zoning Laws Face Growing Attack in Suburbs That Curb
the Poor," New York Times, 14 December 1969. As the article revealed, a New York bi-County Planning
Board study on Oyster Bay discovered that from 1960 to 1965, the white population of the town rose to
348,000 from 309,000, while the number of non-whites in the area during the same time period fell from
4,600 to 3,000. Significantly, New York City had gained a half million nonwhites during the same period.
All found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
204
"NAACP Attacks Lily-White Suburbs," The Defender, 20 November 1969. Notably, the NAACP also
called upon the Department of Housing and Urban Development to reject Oyster Bay's application for
recertification of its Workable Program for Community Improvement. All found in “CORE,” Section A12, NGHC.
295
working there.205 Clearly, the NAACP had chosen Oyster Bay because of its strategic
proximity to Grumman. Perhaps more significantly, the Oyster Bay petition represented
the NAACP's first attempt to break down restrictive zoning codes in the U.S.; the civil
rights organization had chosen Grumman's neighborhood as its first zoning law test case
in the country.206 Realizing the significance of the issue, the Oyster Bay Town Board
promised a ruling on the issue by January 1, 1970.
While the NAACP waited for the town board‟s ruling, the organization‟s officials
decided to seek Grumman‟s help with its rezoning case. On December 18, NAACP
leaders met with Grumman and asked Long Island's largest employer to support their
cause.207 The civil rights group let Grumman know that if they did not get the
corporation's support, they would join CORE, Kunstler, and Big Brother‟s case.
Grumman officials, knowing they had to do something whether they wanted to or not,
205
Neil Newton Gold and Paul Davidoff, two planners with the Suburban Action Institute, which
was a consultant for the NAACP in its rezoning case, put this argument forth in a newspaper article for the
New York Times. For more on this point, see “Zoning Laws Face Growing Attack in Suburbs That Curb
the Poor," New York Times, 14 December 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
206
"NAACP Attacks Lily-White Suburbs," The Defender, 20 November 1969. All found in “CORE,” Section
A-12, NGHC. The NAACP was also hoping to get the local American Jewish Committee of Hempstead to
join it in its fight. For a good overview and discussion of the NAACP's rezoning campaign and its effects
on the country, see ibid.
207
There is a conflict in sources over the date that Grumman and the NAACP actually met.
Newsday states that the meeting took place on December 18, while the Long Island Press cites December
16. See and compare "Grumman Cites Housing Needs," Newsday, 31, December 1969; and "Grumman
Okays…," Long Island Press, 31 December 1969. Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
296
promised that they would issue a statement by the end of the year in response to the
NAACP's ultimatum.208
On December 30, the NAACP met with the Nassau County Planning
Commission to see how the rezoning campaign was progressing. The County Planning
Commission thanked the NAACP for bringing the problem of limited low-income
housing to its attention, but then rebuffed the group, stating that it would have to study
the matter for thirty days. Although approximately 260 to 360 acres suddenly became
available for use in the rezoning efforts in the Syosset-Woodbury area, neither the
NAACP nor the commission discussed the matter with the press. 209
On the same day that the NAACP officials had met with the Nassau County
Planning Commission, they also met with some of Grumman‟s executives. The meeting
went well for the civil rights organization because of a statement the company made
regarding the rezoning campaign. Although Grumman officials carefully and clearly
noted that their "statement d[id] not necessarily reflect the NAACP position," and that
they "we're not taking a stand in line with the NAACP or anyone else," they still declared
that the company would assist the government "wherever possible to achieve the goal of
208
"Parley Set on O. Bay Housing," Newsday, 30 December 1969. Grumman officials were not
totally unsympathetic to the housing problems African American employees faced. As previously noted,
during the February 1968 job hiring interviews in the communities of Wyandanch and North Amityville,
Grumman interviewers discussed available housing opportunities with the new hires. See "Hunt for 'Black
Energy' Proves Boon For Grumman," Long Island Press, 5 February 1968. Both found in “CORE,” Section
A-12, NGHC.
209
There is a discrepancy regarding the amount of acreage that had been made available. While
Newsday reported that 260 acres were open, the Long Island Press stated that 360 acres had been made
available. See and compare "Grumman Cites Housing Needs," Newsday, 31 December 1969; and
"Grumman Okays…," Long Island Press, 31 December 1969. Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12,
NGHC.
297
adequate housing for Long Island's industrial employees." 210 They also urged Oyster Bay
and other Long Island towns to "proceed energetically" with efforts to increase lowincome housing in their areas.211 Although Grumman‟s actions greatly encouraged the
NAACP, the civil rights organization still noted that if the County Commission failed to
rezone the requested areas by the January 1 deadline, it would seek other remedies to
meet its goals, including legal action. The NAACP also hinted that a "squat-in" protest
on the land in question might possibly occur.212
Considering minority housing on a more national scale, Grumman appears to
deserve credit for being much more progressive on the issue than many other aerospace
employers; although it was the NAACP that originally pushed the issue to the forefront,
Grumman did try to open up minority housing. Compared to NASA‟s handling of
minority housing in Cocoa Beach, Florida, for example, Grumman seemed much more
supportive of blacks. Scholar Steven Moss reveals in his study of NASA and race
relations that when the space agency started expanding into Cocoa Beach and Brevard
County, local housing authority officials actually displaced African American residents
by taking over “predominantly black neighborhoods in Cocoa to build public housing,
apparently for use by whites, during the initial space boom,” without intervention on
210
"Grumman Cites Housing Needs," Newsday, 31 December 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12,
211
Ibid.
212
Ibid and "Grumman Okays…," Long Island Press, 31 December 1969, “CORE,” Section A-12,
NGHC.
NGHC.
298
NASA‟s part.213 While the NAACP continued to press the Oyster Bay housing issue
throughout the winter, Kunstler and his group proceeded with their case.
CORE, Kunstler, and Big Brother
Have Their Day in Court
By the beginning of February 1970, the struggle for improved race relations at
Grumman arrived in the courtroom. After a three-month continuance, the defense team
involved in Federal Civil Action 3142-69 stood ready to rebut Kunstler and the plaintiff‟s
accusations on a point-by-point basis. 214 Although there were nineteen plaintiffs involved
in the lawsuit, court files only reveal the circumstances surrounding six of the plaintiffs‟
work histories. The stories of those six key participants, however, exemplify the issues
that many African Americans faced at Grumman, as well as the way that the aerospace
giant responded to them.
Wesley Freeman, the first plaintiff listed on the suit—and incidentally one of the
four mentioned in the Grumman discrimination article in Interavia the previous April—
had held several jobs prior to applying for a position at Grumman. After finishing high
school, he had worked as a farmer in North Carolina. He had also held jobs as a shipping
213
Moss, “NASA and Racial Equality,” 73. Moss does note that NASA did publicly support the
idea of federally funded housing projects for African Americans in Brevard County, but he also suggests
that the agency did not push hard on the issue because it believed that it was beyond the agency‟s purview.
See page 141.
214
The defense team, as of November 1969 and based on who signed the receipt for the summons,
consisted of Harry Kulick, who was representing the Department of Justice, Paulette Sca, Sylvia Ellison, a
trial attorney for the Department of Labor, Mr. Stickler (perhaps Sticker), who worked for the Department
of Defense, E. M. Shafer, a NASA lawyer, Irwin Goldbloom, a Department of Justice attorney who was
representing the defendants William D. Ruckelshaus, Assistant Attorney General (perhaps only a signer),
Thomas A. Flannery, US Attorney (perhaps only a signer), and Harland F. Leathers, a Department of
Justice lawyer. For more information, see and compare “Summons”; “Stipulation for Extension of Time”;
and “Motion to Dismiss or in the Alternative for Summary Judgment.” All found in Freeman, et al. v.
299
and receiving clerk, a machine operator, and as a porter at Mitchell Air Force Base. Right
before becoming a Grumman employee, he worked as a carpet installer at a pay rate of
$155 a week. Freeman originally started applying to Grumman in the mid-1960s.215 As
previously mentioned, he had answered Grumman employment newspaper ads for
positions that matched his skills and previous experience for several years but was unable
to secure a job at the company until he applied for a position as a porter and was hired in
February 1967 at the rate of $88 per week.216
About a year later, in February 1968, Freeman applied for a transfer to the
production line. While the company‟s human resources people tried to place him on the
line, they could not, despite his experience. That same month, Freeman applied to a
training course for machine operators and made it through the initial screening process.
Curiously, as defense attorneys noted, Freeman did not return for a second interview, nor
did he ever explain why he failed to follow through on the training opportunity.
Similarly, in June, when he was offered a more advanced position as forklift operator, he
refused the job. Again, as the defense noted, he never gave a reason why. In August
1968, it finally looked as if Freeman might get his wish to transfer onto the production
Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204,
National Archives at Suitland, MD.
215
Freeman first applied to Grumman on August 17, 1966 for a position in the shipping and
receiving department, but there were supposedly no openings. Freeman was 27 at the time he applied. The
circumstances surrounding Freeman‟s employment can be determined by comparing “Complaint for
Injunctive and Declaratory Relief,” 6; and “Answer of Intervener Grumman Aerospace Corporation,”
Appendix A, “Wesley Freeman”, 1-4. Both found in Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142,
U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204, National Archives at Suitland, MD.
216
In a pamphlet printed by Big Brother regarding the lawsuit (date unknown), there was a picture
of Freeman with a quote from him that stated: "‟A friend had advised me that I would, once in the
300
line. The company promised he could move into a position as an assembler-riveter, but
just as he got ready to transfer into his new job, all transfers to the riveting line were
canceled due to upcoming RIFs.
Freeman had tried to transfer to a production line job for more than two-and-ahalf years while working as a porter, but by October 1969 he had reached his breaking
point.217 Even though CORE officials had tried to get him placed in a production job,
they could not, despite the fact that Grumman had hired several whites from outside the
company for such positions, according to Kunstler.218 When Freeman left the firm, he
had reached a weekly salary of $116, which had included several general and merit pay
raises.219
company, stand a chance of promotion to a better-paid production line job.‟" The emphasis was in the
pamphlet.
217
Even though the lawsuit‟s documents claim that Freeman had been trying to transfer for more
than two-and-a-half years, and he very may well have been trying to transfer from his perspective,
Grumman‟s company rules only allowed people to transfer after an initial trial employment period of
approximately a year. It was Grumman‟s usual policy for an employee to be on board for a least a year
before he or she was eligible to apply and transfer to a different position within the company. Some
Grumman officials believed that this might have been a problem for some African Americans because they
wanted to be employed and move to a new position after only three months. This situation could have been
avoided if all interviewees were informed of this issue during the interview process, instead of after they
were hired. See Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation Inter-office Memorandum, T.C. Shea to J.
Rettaliata, 6 October 1965, “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
218
For example, Willie Page, the Vice Chair of Long Island CORE, and membership chairman for
Big Brother, as well as a Grumman employee, intervened on Freeman‟s behalf and tried to get him
transferred beginning in August 1968. See “Answer of Intervener Grumman Aerospace Corporation,”
Appendix A, “Wesley Freeman,” 3-4, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District
219
Freeman received the following raises during his tenure at Grumman. On September 18, 1967,
he received a $6 “merit” salary increase, which brought his weekly total to $94. Then, a year later, on
September 20, 1968, he got an $8 “adjustment” on his weekly salary, bringing him to $102 per week. The
following March, his salary increased $8 per week to $110 per a pay period, thanks to a “merit” increase.
And then in June 1969, he received a “general” $6 per week increase to bring his overall total to $116 per
week. See “Answer of Intervener Grumman Aerospace Corporation,” Appendix A, “Wesley Freeman,” 2,
Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, Agency
Box 204, National Archives at Suitland, MD.
301
Verlyn Curry, another plaintiff, and another of the four who had been mentioned
in the Grumman discrimination article in Interavia, began working at Grumman in
February 1966, quickly advancing to a job as a power brake operator and eventually
landing a “white collar” position in the scheduling department for Production Control.
Before starting at the company, Curry had held a variety of jobs, including a position as a
security guard at the rate of $115 weekly. Although Curry applied for a guard job at
Grumman, he was told there were no openings. In January 1966, after being laid off from
his security position, Curry agreed to take a huge pay cut and accept a position as a porter
at Grumman at the rate of $74 per week, plus 10% more for nights. Curry continued to
try to land a position as a Grumman security officer, but could never seem to secure such
a job, despite Kunstler and his team‟s claim that “white persons with no greater
qualifications have been employed for such positions.” 220 The prosecution felt certain that
Curry had “been denied access to a position on Grumman's security force for reasons of
race and color.”221
In spite of the fact that he had started as a porter, Curry moved up in the company
fairly quickly. Thanks to the intervention of Willie Page—an African-American
Grummanite, as well as the Vice Chairman of the local CORE chapter and the
membership chairman of Big Brother—Curry did not have to go through the mandatory
220
The quote is from “Complaint for Injunctive and Declaratory Relief,” 6, Freeman, et al. v.
Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204,
221
Ibid. For Curry‟s full story, see “Answer of Intervener Grumman Aerospace Corporation,”
Appendix A, “Verlyn B. Curry,” 1-4, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District
302
one-year waiting period before transferring to a position as a Press Brake Operator. In
July 1966, he began working in the position on the night shift. Over the next three years,
Curry performed well and received five merit pay increases, as well as a general pay
increase to bring his weekly salary up to $128. In March 1969, he transferred to the day
shift. Five months later, Curry received another promotion—again, thanks to Willie
Page‟s intervention—to a white-collar job in the scheduling department. Page had asked
his friend Mort Husted, the head of the scheduling department in Production Control, to
hire Curry.222 The new position consisted of checking on the progress of production. At
the time of the October 1969 lawsuit, Curry was making $140 per week. Although Curry
never secured a job as a company security guard, the defense team did note that he was
earning a lot more money in his current position than he ever would have as a Grumman
guard. He also had enough flexibility in his hours to schedule personal time to deal with a
family illness. Overall, while Curry did not ultimately secure the position he wanted, he
did obtain a better-paying white-collar job with Grumman than his original goal.
Ronald Knight, another African-American porter at Grumman, never seemed to
rise above that position, in spite of several opportunities afforded him by the company
and the fact that he had a high school diploma.223 Kunstler and the prosecution team
claimed that Grumman had repeatedly passed over Knight for promotion, despite the fact
222
“Answer of Intervener Grumman Aerospace Corporation,” Appendix A, “Verlyn B. Curry,” 23, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia,
Agency Box 204, National Archives at Suitland, MD.
223
For a summary of Knight‟s situation, see “Answer of Intervener Grumman Aerospace
Corporation,” Appendix A, “Ronald Knight,” 1-4, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S.
303
that whites with lesser qualifications had received promotions or secured higher and
better paying jobs than porter.224 Knight first joined Grumman in March 1962 and began
working at the rate of $88 per week. Prior to that time, he had only worked as a gardener,
a porter, and a stock boy, and his highest hourly wage was $1.28 per hour.
In 1968, Knight began taking advantage of some of the educational opportunities
Grumman provided to its employees. That year he became one of several AfricanAmerican Grummanites selected to participate in a leadership program conducted by
Long Island CORE at Hofstra University and the New York State College at
Farmingdale; everyone in the leadership course had been handpicked by either Bill Byas
of Grumman‟s Personal Services Department, and/or Willie Page, both AfricanAmerican Grummanites. The full time general education program lasted three months
and Knight received his entire Grumman salary while attending. After completing the
course, he returned to work at the company full-time. To assist with the overall program,
Grumman had donated approximately $1,000 to the Leadership Program and had
assigned two African-American employees, Larry Dais and Dan Hester, to administer it.
Although Knight seemed more than happy to attend Grumman-sponsored general
education classes, he appears to have eschewed the idea of registering for specifically
job-related courses at the company, despite Bill Byas‟s advice to do so. He also seemed
more interested in eventually obtaining a college degree than in establishing a permanent
career at Grumman. In August 1969, Knight applied to transfer to either the Production
224
“Complaint for Injunctive and Declaratory Relief,” 6-7, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case
File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204, National Archives at
Suitland, MD.
304
Planning or Business Administration Departments. Even though the company tried to
honor his request, it could only find him a job in Data Operations. 225 Knight turned down
the position because he claimed it would interfere with his evening classes at the New
York State College at Farmingdale. Knight‟s poor job attendance record may also have
harmed his chances for advancement. From 1967 to the fall of 1969, he had been absent
without pay for fifty-five days and had taken more than three months of leave. When
Grumman managers found him a new job as a messenger in the Accounting Department
in 1969, his absences essentially blocked him from the position. Still, by the fall of 1969,
Knight had received a total of seven pay raises throughout his career at Grumman and
was making $124 per week.
Gladys Thigpen, one of the few female plaintiffs, had only worked at Grumman
for a little more than six months by the time of the lawsuit. As with several other AfricanAmerican Grummanites, people had encouraged Thigpen to apply for a position as a
matron (the female equivalent of a porter), with the idea that she could transfer to a better
position within the company later. Thigpen, who had six years of prior experience as a
machine operator, had originally applied for a position as an “Assembly and File Clerk,”
but could only obtain a job as a matron at Grumman‟s Plant 15 in Bethpage; the company
claimed it did not have any assembly or file clerk positions open at the time. Thigpen, a
high school dropout, started working for the company in March 1969 at $76 per week.226
225
Knight had asked the company to try to place him in three different areas: Manufacturing
Engineering and Design, Data Operations, or Computer Systems.
226
Thigpen‟s story is contained in “Answer of Intervener Grumman Aerospace Corporation,”
Appendix A, “Gladys Thigpen,” 1-3, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court
for the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204, National Archives at Suitland, MD.
305
Despite company rules, she believed she could transfer within ninety days after beginning
her employment.
Thigpen‟s main complaints against Grumman stemmed from her belief that she
had been denied a job transfer, as well as entry into the company's training programs. 227
The company‟s defense attorneys rebutted her claims with several points. First and
foremost, company rules required new employees to wait at least a year before requesting
a transfer, and the defense asserted that Thigpen should have known that rule because she
had received an employee handbook that indicated that fact at the time of her
employment; numerous members of her extended family were also employed by
Grumman. Grumman officials also claimed that no one at the company had any
knowledge or record of her requesting a job transfer, or any record of her registering for a
company training program. Thigpen did receive three salary increases and one merit raise
during her short employment period at the company. By the beginning of November
1969, Thigpen was making $98 per week.
Minnie E. Stallworth, one of Thigpen‟s co-plaintiffs, worked at Grumman from
October 1966 to August 1969 as “an electrical bench fabricator,” a skilled position.
Stallworth had graduated from an Alabama trade school in the early 1960s, moved to
New York, and then attended the Adelphi Business School in Mineola for a short while in
1965. Her primary job experience prior to working for Grumman had been as an
electrical wirer at a local lamp company. She had also enrolled in an IBM keypunch
227
MD.
306
course at some point but had never completed the course, according to the defense,
although she stated she had on her employment application. In October 1966, Stallworth,
in her early twenties at the time, accepted a wiring position on Grumman‟s night shift at
$88 per week, a significant increase over her previous job at the lamp company, which
only paid $1.82 per hour.228
Stallworth had grown upset that the aerospace company had not promoted her to a
position commensurate with her skills, while she watched several white workers receive
training and then promotions to IBM keypunch positions.229 She had tried for several
years to get Grumman managers to take her seriously. Unfortunately, help came a little
too late for her. In August 1969, Stallworth learned that she would soon lose her job as
part of a series of company-wide layoffs. Jean Esquerre, an officer of the Opportunity and
Development Department, told her “in furtherance of the Affirmative Action Program,”
his office would try to help her find a position, but she failed the Keypunch Department‟s
qualifying test. On August 29, 1969, with no other job openings available to her,
Stallworth received her RIF notice. At the time, she was making $106 per week. 230
Abdulla Rahsingeda, the sixth and final plaintiff, had a strained work history at
Grumman. Rahsingeda—who had changed his name from “Robert Walker”—had served
228
All of the information on Stallworth is contained in “Answer of Intervener Grumman
Aerospace Corporation,” Appendix A, “Minnie E. Stallworth,” 1-4, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case
Suitland, MD.
229
MD.
230
She had received three pay increases during her tenure at Grumman. See ibid., 7-8.
307
as a clerk in the U.S. Army. According to Kunstler and his team, Rahsingeda began
applying for a job at Grumman in the early 1960s, but the company did not hire him for
more than five years. Rahsingeda only obtained a job at Grumman after filing some
complaints with the state and federal agencies that oversaw workforce discrimination
cases. He applied for an advertised position in Grumman‟s clerical department in the
early spring of 1966, but the company‟s employment office told him no such position
was open. In April, he took a job in the maintenance department and remained there for
three years. During that time, many whites, according to Kunstler, obtained positions as
clerks with higher paychecks and better rankings than Rahsingeda. In February 1969,
Rahsingeda finally transferred to the library where he became a mail clerk, a position that
he viewed as a dead-end job and beneath his abilities and qualifications. He claimed that
he had tried to enroll in Grumman‟s computer training course several times, but he said
he had been denied the opportunity to participate in it. 231
The defense team interpreted Rahsingeda‟s work history differently. According to
them, the first record of Rahsingeda applying for a job at Grumman occurred on March
18, 1966. Although he eventually secured a Grumman job, his work history initially
raised some questions among Grumman‟s personnel managers. A routine security check
revealed that his preceding employer did not exist. The defense also alleged that one of
his previous companies had found Rahsingeda to be unreliable, careless, and a poor
worker, and subsequently fired him. That employer stated that he would not rehire him if
231
“Complaint for Injunctive and Declaratory Relief,” 7-8, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case
Suitland, MD.
308
given the chance. Still, because Rahsingeda had brought a letter of reference from the
Commission on Human Rights of Nassau County‟s Job Development Center with him
when he applied in the spring of 1966, the company decided to give him a position as a
sweeper in April 1966 at the rate of $88 per week, plus 10% more for night work.232
According to the defense, Rahsingeda first requested a transfer in January 1968 to
some "administrative task or other related departments," and finally secured such a
position several months later. During the summer of 1968, he had interviewed for a
couple of administrative jobs, but, because of upcoming RIFs and hiring freezes, he could
not transfer to those positions. Finally, after receiving his high-school equivalency
diploma, Rahsingeda began working as a clerk in the Grumman library in February 1969.
He learned several jobs in the reading room and eventually received an assignment as a
mail clerk. Rahsingeda had several opportunities to advance his skills while working in
the library, but in one case he did not pursue such advantages and, in the other case, he
did not make the final cut to enroll in such a program. 233 Nevertheless, by August 1969,
232
All of the above from “Answer of Intervener Grumman Aerospace Corporation,” Appendix A,
“Abdulla Rahsingeda,” 1-4, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for the
District of Columbia, Agency Box 204, National Archives at Suitland, MD.
233
For example, while Rahsingeda was working in the library, his supervisor, Claude Gibson,
noticed his interest in computer programming and offered to help him enroll in the company‟s course on
the subject, but Rahsingeda never followed through on the offer. Then, in March 1969, Jim Wells of the
company‟s Placement Office advised Rahsingeda about the possibility of enrolling in a “‟Commercial
Programming Training Course'—a special IBM Programming Course.” The six-week course allowed
employees to receive their full salary while attending. Rahsingeda, one of 61 initial interviewees for the
course, did not make the final selection process for participation in the project. Of the Program‟s final 26
students, eight were African Americans and one was Puerto Rican. Phil Grey, an African American
Grummanite and the Program‟s Instructor, had “interviewed all [the] candidates and decided which
applicants to accept solely at his discretion." For these details, see “Answer of Intervener Grumman
Aerospace Corporation,” Appendix A, “Abdulla Rahsingeda,”3, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File
MD
309
after working roughly three and a half years for Grumman, Rahsingeda had received five
pay increases and was making a weekly salary of $124.234
Overall, the six defendants‟ cases reveal some very notable distinctions about the
charges of racial discrimination against Grumman. On one hand, it seems obvious that
many African Americans had a difficult, if not impossible, time initially securing any
positions above that of porter. That position seemed the normal point of entry for blacks,
and some even took pay cuts to secure those jobs.
Clearly, some forms of racial discrimination were at work at Grumman. Some
African Americans appeared to have been further behind whites to receive promotions.
But as one EEOC commissioner noted in hearings about racial discrimination in the
aerospace industry in Southern California in 1969, even though many aerospace
companies‟ managers might have been doing all they could to recruit and promote
minorities within their firms, a series of gatekeepers at lower levels might close the doors
to promotion to minorities, whether consciously or unconsciously. 235 While there were
often several Grumman employees (many of whom were African American themselves)
trying to help blacks advance at the company, perhaps other employees wanted to see
their white colleagues or friends advance first.236 Grumman officials struggled with the
234
“Answer of Intervener Grumman Aerospace Corporation,” Appendix A, “Abdulla
Rahsingeda,” 1-4, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for the District of
Columbia, Agency Box 204, National Archives at Suitland, MD.
235
U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, Hearings Before the United States Equal
Employment Opportunity Commission on Utilization of Minority and Women Workers in Certain Major
Industries, Los Angeles, CA, March 12-14, 1969, 45.
236
For more on this general idea, see ibid., 23.
310
same challenges every other employer faced in the late 1960s when deciding how to
balance affirmative action and equal opportunity. But first, they had to acknowledge that
a problem existed, and this they were not ready to do.
Turning back to the courts, although Grumman and the federal government had
spent a great deal of time and energy responding to Kunstler and his colleagues‟ case on a
point-by-point basis, they ultimately decided to try another and more sweeping tactic to
disarm Federal Civil Action 3142-69. On February 6, 1970, the defense came back to the
courthouse with a motion to dismiss the entire lawsuit, or in the alternative, to secure a
summary judgment. The defense cited a variety of highly technical legal reasons. First
and foremost, it claimed that the court lacked jurisdiction over the case because it
constituted an “unconsented suit against the United States.”237 They also argued that the
plaintiffs lacked standing and had failed to show "the existence of a justiciable case or
controversy." Additionally, the defense charged that the plaintiffs had not exhausted all
"available administrative remedies." 238 In other words, African-American Grummanites
could have properly sued the federal court under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of
237
“Memorandum of Points and Authorities in Support of Defendants‟ Motions to Dismiss or in
the Alternative for Summary Judgment,” 6, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District
238
to Dismiss or in the Alternative for Summary Judgment,” 6-14, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File
MD.
311
1964, but they had chosen not to do so.239 And finally, the defense believed the court
should dismiss the case because the plaintiffs had failed to include Grumman, which they
considered "an indispensable party," in the suit. 240 Overall, the defense‟s reasoning
appeared strong and the case seemed like it might go by the wayside, but the court gave
Kunstler and his team until April to decide how to combat the defense‟s new onslaught.
When Kunstler and his team returned to the courthouse on April 22, they argued
strenuously against the defense‟s motion to dismiss the case. They asserted that "the
federal government had adopted a maze of executive orders and regulations" governing
the equal employment opportunity aspects of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, making it
virtually impossible to enforce the spirit of the law.241 Despite the fact that Grumman had
agreed to make certain changes in its equal employment opportunities after the federal
government‟s investigation of the firm, he and the plaintiffs believed that the only thing
the firm had done is continue to target blacks for more layoffs by using seniority rules.
Many African Americans had less time in the company than others slated for downsizing,
and they were therefore the first to be cut.242
239
“Memorandum of Points and Authorities in Support of Defendants‟ Motions to Dismiss or in
the Alternative for Summary Judgment,” 11, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S.
240
to Dismiss or in the Alternative for Summary Judgment,” 6-14, Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File
MD.
241
“Response to Motion to Dismiss or, in the Alternative, for Summary Judgment,” 1, Freeman, et
al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204,
242
Ibid., 5.
312
For Kunstler, the heart of the lawsuit was “to test the question whether there is
any meaningful remedy to enforce the commitments and undertakings of the government
to eliminate racial discrimination in employment by government contractors." 243 He also
believed that it was disgraceful that the federal government, “which at first ignored
Grumman's violation of the Executive Order and then sought to cover it up by acceptance
of Grumman's undisclosed agreement to behave," would not move to truly enforce the
law.244 As Kunstler put it, he felt it was “important to repeat that the plaintiffs' factual
allegations are undisputed. The question before the Court is not whether Grumman
discriminated; it is simply whether there is a meaningful remedy for government
inaction."245 And Kunstler also wanted it known that he did not agree that the plaintiffs
had failed to exhaust all their possible remedies before proceeding with the lawsuit. As he
put it: “Grumman had agreed when it first got the contract not to discriminate against its
employees.”246 Kunstler wondered “What kind of absurdity is it that considers a second
agreement to comply with the law to be better than the first agreement which Grumman
was found to have violated?"247
243
Ibid., 20.
244
Ibid., 21.
245
Ibid.
246
Ibid., 15.
247
Ibid. Kunstler and his team also made several other arguments for continuing the lawsuit,
including: (1) combating the defense‟s notion that the plaintiffs did not have the standing to sue (Kunstler
believed they did, see “Response to Motion to Dismiss or, in the Alternative, for Summary Judgment,”
page. 9); (2) the defense‟s idea that the case should be dismissed because of the doctrine of sovereign
immunity (Kunstler claimed that the doctrine was not applicable to the case, see “Response to Motion to
Dismiss or, in the Alternative, for Summary Judgment,” page 6); and (3) the defense‟s point that the case
be dismissed because "the employer (or potential employer) [Grumman] of the plaintiffs has not been
313
Another vital point that Kunstler and his team addressed in their response to the
defense‟s motion to dismiss revolved around the issue of whether Grumman should join
the lawsuit. On this issue, Kunstler noted:
regardless of the effect on Grumman, plaintiffs are seeking
relief only against the defendant federal officers, and a
judgment prohibiting these officers from letting
government contracts to Grumman until racial
discrimination is terminated and remedied will be entirely
adequate. Plaintiffs are not in this case contending that
there is any violation of law by Grumman apart from its
derivative obligation under the due process clause of the
Fifth Amendment.248
Nevertheless, Kunstler did not want to discourage Grumman from joining in the case if it
so desired. According to him, the reason he had not included the aerospace giant in the
suit was because, technically, “the plaintiffs are unable to join Grumman as a defendant
in this suit because it is not doing business with the District of Columbia… [T]he
Company…is entirely free to intervene as a defendant if it should see fit." Kunstler
dangled the bait in front of the company by noting: "The failure of Grumman to make
application for intervention in this proceeding… strongly suggests that the Company does
not view its participation as essential to the protection of its interests." 249 Kunstler hoped
that the company would add its name to the proceedings so that he could hammer away at
joined as a defendant." On this final point, Kunstler claimed that Grumman was “not subject to service of
process in the District of Columbia…and it is therefore not 'feasible' to join it within the meaning of Rule
19 (A) [The Federal Rules of Civil Procedure]. See ibid., 18 for more on this final point.
248
“Response to Motion to Dismiss or, in the Alternative, for Summary Judgment,” 19, Freeman,
et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204,
249
Ibid.
314
Grumman‟s reputation. As the judge was considering the plaintiff‟s countermotion
against the defense‟s argument to dismiss the case, Kunstler got his wish.
On June 12, 1970, Grumman filed to intervene as a defendant in the case and ten
days later received official approval for the action from the court. 250 Grumman‟s lawyers
argued that it was in the company‟s best interests to continue “to be eligible to sell
aircraft, aerospace and other products to the Department of Defense and the National
Aeronautics and Space Administration," and, if the lawsuit continued, they argued, then
the company would not be able to defend its reputation from what it considered
unwarranted attacks on its race relations record.251 Grumman‟s legal team immediately
argued for a dismissal of the case, based on the fact that "the Court lacks jurisdiction over
the subject matter of this action and the complaint fails to cite a cause of action upon
which relief can be granted."252 And, as if those arguments for dismissal were not
enough, Grumman‟s lawyers also underscored the original defendants‟ insistence that the
plaintiffs had not exhausted all remedies open to them; in other words, the plaintiffs
250
The court gave Grumman the right to intervene on June 22, 1970. See “Order Granting
Intervention,” Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for the District of
251
Notably, Grumman‟s lawyer was Donald J. Mulvihill of Washington, DC. For more on this
part of the case, see “Praecipe,” Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for
the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204, National Archives at Suitland, MD; and “Motion to Intervene
as a Defendant,” Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for the District of
252
“Motion to Dismiss,” Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for
the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204, National Archives at Suitland, MD.
315
should have tried to correct their situation under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of
1964.253
The interested parties did not have to wait long for an answer from the court to
their motions. The decision came down on August 27, 1970, a little over ten months after
Kunstler and his team had originally filed their suit. The court agreed that the plaintiffs
had not pursued the proper course of action to remedy their situation; again, the plaintiffs
should have complained about their treatment under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of
1964. As far as the court was concerned, Grumman had corrected all of its discriminatory
ways, as attested to by the government agencies in charge of investigating racial
discrimination.254 Kunstler immediately requested an appeal and got it, but the outcome
was the same.255 The United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit
did nothing to change the lower court‟s previous ruling. By the end of 1970, Kunstler and
the plaintiffs had no other legal recourse left to rectify African-American Grummanites‟
situation in the workplace.
African Americans and Employment in the
American Aerospace Industry
253
“Memorandum of Points and Authorities in Support of Intervener‟s Motion to Dismiss,”
Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, Agency
Box 204, National Archives at Suitland, MD.
254
For more on this subject, see “Opinion,” which contains the actual opinion; and “Order,” which
is the court‟s order to dismiss the case. Both found in Freeman, et al. v. Shultz, et al., Case File 69-3142,
U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204, National Archives at Suitland, MD,
255
For the full appeal process see “Notice of Appeal”; “Original Record on Appeal”; Transcription
Certification; “Civil Docket”; and Receipt from Nathan J. Paulson. All found in Freeman, et al. v. Shultz,
et al., Case File 69-3142, U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia, Agency Box 204, National
Archives at Suitland, MD.
316
During the Apollo era African-American Grummanites used numerous available
avenues to raise questions and concerns about their treatment in the workplace and their
ability to advance and secure better paying jobs. Ultimately, they wanted to improve their
socioeconomic lives, like most Americans. It is important to place their situation in the
broader historical context of what was happening to other African Americans in the
aerospace industry throughout the country during the 1960s and early 1970s. By June
1969, Grumman officials reported that African Americans made up approximately 8% of
the Long Island company‟s workforce.256 How did those figures compare to some of the
other major aerospace companies across the country?
McDonnell-Douglas, a major aerospace contractor and former NASA supplier
based in the St. Louis region, faced some of the same challenges in the area of race
relations as Grumman. In December 1969, for example, a major controversy emerged
when the DoD awarded the company a multibillion-dollar contract for the F-15 fighter
plane without reviewing the company‟s affirmative action policy. Although African
Americans represented approximately 40% of St. Louis‟s population, only 7.5% of the
company‟s workforce was black. Furthermore, African Americans only represented 2%
of supervisors and less than 1% of the company‟s officers. After a DoD and Office of
Federal Contract Compliance investigation, McDonnell agreed to an affirmative action
plan in February 1970, which “‟expanded in-plant educational and training opportunities‟
for African-American workers; regular meetings of supervisors to discuss affirmative
256
The Grumman African American employment figures come from “Grumman Charged Anew
With Bias,” Newsday, 20 June 1969; and “Black Organization Threatens to Shut Down Grumman,” Long
Island Press 20 June 1969. Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC.
317
action regulations; employment and promotion „targets‟; and efforts to secure housing for
African-American employees.”257 Ironically, like Grumman, McDonnell-Douglas had
created and agreed to follow a “Plan for Progress” early in the Kennedy
Administration.258 And, also like Grumman, McDonnell-Douglas had recruited minorities
in the inner cities and at historically African American colleges, and yet it still failed to
attract a sizable African-American workforce.259
The Apollo Program‟s largest aerospace contractor and supplier, the North
American Rockwell Corporation (NAR), also had its share of race-related problems.
Based in the Los Angeles area, NAR relied on federal contracts for 90% of its business,
which included the Apollo Program‟s Command/Service Module. 260 Like Grumman and
McDonnell-Douglas, NAR had adopted an affirmative action policy early in the Kennedy
Administration.261 In November 1967, the National Urban League, one of the leading
civil rights organizations of the era, had even presented the company with its Equality
Opportunity Award because of the minority recruiting the company had accomplished. 262
257
The agreement was reached on February 10, 1970. The quote can be found in Weiss, “We
Want Jobs,” 143-144.
258
The information about NAR and the other California based aerospace companies comes from
hearings conducted about discrimination in the aerospace, and the movie and television industries, in Los
Angeles in March 1969. On NAR‟s percentage of governmental business, see U.S. Equal Employment
Opportunity Commission, Hearings Before the United States Equal Employment Opportunity Commission
on Utilization of Minority and Women Workers in Certain Major Industries, Los Angeles, CA, March 1214, 1969, 6.
259
Ibid, 6-7.
260
Ibid., 63.
261
Ibid., 53.
262
Like all the other companies, they did heavy recruiting at African American colleges, see ibid.,
56 and 64.
318
On the surface, NAR seemed to have done an outstanding job recruiting and promoting
minorities. The company had put an African-American president in charge of one of its
smaller divisions, and the company claimed that 3% of NAR‟s managers and officials
were African Americans or other minorities. 263 However, on closer examination, NAR‟s
history does not appear substantially different from other aerospace companies across the
country. As of February 1969, only 8% to 9% of the company‟s approximate 94,700
employees were minorities (which included African Americans, “Mexican Americans,”
“Orientals,” and “American Indians”), most working in lower paying jobs. 264 Although
most of the company‟s blue-collar employees belonged to the United Auto Workers, the
union rarely filed complaints on the grounds of discrimination. 265 Despite Grumman‟s
fears that African Americans and labor would join forces and attempt to organize the
Long Island company, it appears that blacks rarely got substantial union help in fighting
discrimination in the aerospace industry.
Another major Southern California aerospace contractor, Lockheed, had plants in
a variety of places including Marietta, Georgia, where the first major PFP agreement was
reached in 1961. Lockheed provides some similar statistics about the state of AfricanAmerican employment in the aerospace industry. In 1968, 85% of Lockheed‟s business
came from federal contracts.266 According to a union official, African Americans made
263
Ibid., 59-60.
264
Ibid., 436 and 439.
265
Ibid., 57-58.
266
Ibid., 94.
319
up approximately 7% of the company‟s workforce.267 Although Lockheed had instituted a
series of layoffs in 1968, company officials nevertheless claimed that they still increased
the minority population by 32% that year.268 Because of downsizing, however, no
African Americans received promotions in the management category in 1968. 269
Although the company had recruited among the “hard-core” unemployed in the Los
Angeles area, it still had a difficult time finding substantial qualified minorities.270 Like
Grumman, Lockheed had tried to recruit minorities through local television advertising
and minority publications, but found that African Americans usually responded better
through job fairs and personal employee contact.271 The company had problems
recruiting minorities to work in its plants in the San Fernando Valley because of the
seventy plus mile commute; even when minorities had the opportunity to take chartered
bus rides out of the inner city and work in plants outside the LA area, fewer than 5%
pursued jobs so far away from home. 272
Another major point of comparison between Lockheed, NAR, and Grumman
revolved around the issue of union representation. Like NAR workers, most Lockheed
267
Company officials claimed that minorities represented about 1 out of every 10 employees. See
and compare ibid., 25 and 82.
268
Ibid., 25-26.
269
Ibid., 35-36.
270
Ibid., 26-27. Notably, the company was in the process of opening up a plant for the hard-core
unemployed in the Watts-Willowbrook area of South Central LA. It also had established a four-year
scholarship for LA area minority youths to attend the Tuskegee Institute, see page 28.
271
Ibid., 33-34.
272
Ibid., 26 and 51.
320
employees belonged to a union, in their case, the International Association of Machinists
(IAM). African Americans represented about 10% to 15% of the company‟s union
membership, a substantial proportion given the under-representation of African
Americans in the workforce.273 Yet equal employment had not risen to the top of the
union agenda; although the union stood ready to strike for better economic conditions, it
would not strike to stop discrimination. An IAM representative put it: “I am not going to
try to fool you. I think we all know there is no union that goes on strike because of a
condition of discrimination. I am not saying that this is right…but you have to understand
that the membership votes as to whether or not you have a strike, not the leadership.” 274
Furthermore, although the IAM had an excellent apprenticeship program to train
aerospace workers, it had a hard time getting African Americans into this initiative. Many
black applicants failed to pass the program‟s entrance exam because of their poor
educational backgrounds, and very few of those who qualified actually wanted to pursue
an apprenticeship. At the IAM‟s Santa Monica apprenticeship program, for example, in
1969, only three of eighty participants were African American.275
Another important way to evaluate how African American Grummanites fared in
the aerospace industry is to compare their experiences with those of African Americans
employed by NASA, the leader in the space field. A comparison between the two
employers‟ personnel provides an interesting juxtaposition. For example, while 8% of
273
Ibid., 86.
274
Ibid., 89-90.
275
Ibid.
321
Grummanites were African Americans in 1969, NASA‟s workforce was only about four
to 5% African American during that same period. 276 Overall, while NASA did manage to
employ some African Americans among its white-collar ranks during the 1960s,
Grumman employed a higher percentage of black workers during the 1960s in both its
general ranks and among its white-collar positions.277
As the Apollo Program was coming to a close in 1972, federal laws and
affirmative action had generally failed to help most African Americans advance into
more secure, better-paying, more fulfilling jobs in the aerospace industry. Why had these
federal employment protections fallen short for so many African Americans? As several
scholars have discovered, affirmative action had failed up to that point because equal
opportunity laws essentially were ill-defined and lacked major enforcement power
276
The Grumman African-American employment figures come from “Grumman Charged Anew
With Bias,” Newsday, 20 June 1969; and “Black Organization Threatens to Shut Down Grumman,” Long
Island Press, 20 June 1969. Both found in “CORE,” Section A-12, NGHC. For the NASA African
American figures, see and compare Moss, “NASA and Racial Equality,” 63; and Dunar and Waring, Power
to Explore, 124. In 1964, the New York Times reported that of the 1,500 employees at NASA‟s Florida
facilities at the time, only 11 were black. Interestingly, however, of those employees one half were
professional while the others were clerical. For more details on this report, see Moss, “NASA and Racial
Equality,” 82.
277
As Steven Moss, a student of NASA‟s race relations discovered, NASA‟s administrators were
not really that interested in solving racial problems—they simply wanted to get Americans to the moon.
Leading NASA managers like Wernher von Braun were not altruistic when it came to race. They just knew
that if they wanted money to fund the Apollo Program, then they had to placate the President and Congress
on some racial issues. For more on this issue, see Moss, “NASA and Racial Equality,” 109.
Nevertheless, Moss does seem to view NASA and von Braun‟s race relations record favorably
because, he claims, they used NASA‟s promise of federal contracts (the influx of millions of federal dollars
and thousands of new jobs) in the segregated South to leverage a certain degree of social change and
progress. As he notes, while the Apollo Program was definitely their major concern, they did do what they
could “to improve the quality of life for all races in its host communities.” The quote is on page 6 but also
see pages 3-6 for more general comments on this point.
In the final perspective, Moss believes that NASA did a good job promoting civil rights because of
its policy enforcement, NASA Administrator James Webb‟s leadership, and “the political-economic
influence the agency held over contractors and within some host communities” to force certain racial
changes. For his concluding ideas on this subject, see pages 139-140.
322
through the early 1970s. The laws started getting tougher in 1972, but for most African
American Grummanites that was too late.278 Another major stumbling block stemmed
from the fact that with so many different government agencies in charge of overseeing
contractor compliance there were never any definitive standards set across the board for
enforcement. Contractors were confused about what was expected of them, and some
had to follow different criteria from others. 279 Similarly, the federal government‟s
reliance on employers‟ voluntary compliance throughout much of the 1960s did not
advance African Americans in the aerospace industry significantly. 280 Finally, and
perhaps more significantly, minorities undoubtedly had serious problems securing good
jobs in the aerospace industry because the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission,
as well as the Office of Federal Contract Compliance, the two official federal watchdog
groups in charge of affirmative action compliance, were too understaffed and
overburdened to effectively make sure everything went according to plan. 281
278
279
Ibid., 57.
280
Weiss, “We Want Jobs,” xii.
281
Most minorities consequently gave up on filing complaints because it just was not worth it. For
example, by the mid 1970s, the EEOC had more than 125,000 cases in its backlog. Furthermore, although
Nixon increased EEOC funding and personnel dramatically during his presidency, it still seemed to have
left too many minorities by the wayside. In 1968, for instance, the EEOC only had about 360 employees
and a $13 million budget. By 1972, they had about 1,640 employees and close to $30 million. Nevertheless,
by June 1972, they still had more than 50,000 backlogged cases. As at least one scholar has noted, by the
early 1970s, EEOC case investigations were nearly 2 years behind. For more on these issues, see ibid., xii,
144 and 177.
As previously noted, the EEOC had very limited power, although they could investigate, if they
discovered a violation, they had to wait 60 days for state laws and agencies to reconcile the differences.
EEOC agents also had to conduct their investigations in private. If noting could be resolved, then the
plaintiff, and not the EEOC, was to initiate the civil action. The only exception to this rule was that the
attorney general could initiate a suit under Section 707 (known as 707 suits) if there was a pattern of
widespread discrimination, but such suits were very rare. For more on this issue, see ibid., 71 and 105.
323
By the end of the Apollo Program many aerospace companies had gone through
the same type of legal battles over racial discrimination as Grumman had in the late
1960s. Some companies won the lawsuits, while in other cases African-American
workers were victorious. In 1973, for example, a racial discrimination case against
McDonnell Douglas finally reached its conclusion with the company claiming a victory.
An African American named Green had applied for a job at McDonnell Douglas, and,
although he was qualified for the position, the company ultimately rejected him and the
position remained unfilled and continued to be advertised. Ultimately, the courts sided
with McDonnell because it ruled that Green, who had been a former company employee,
and who had protested against the company “unlawfully,” had not been rejected because
of his race, but rather because he had broken the law. In essence, as one scholar has
noted, the case supported the idea that “an employer could make business decisions for
any reasons he liked, provided he did not act on the basis of race.” 282
Thousands of miles away from McDonnell, in Southern California, Lockheed also
faced a racial discrimination lawsuit in 1973, but it had an entirely different outcome. The
Lockheed Minority and Female Coalition, founded in 1970 to fight discrimination, filed a
class action lawsuit against Lockheed for denying minority access to better paying jobs.
In 1973, the coalition won the suit when the firm settled by pledging to "provide several
thousand jobs to people other than white males." 283 Clearly, the larger issue to take away
282
283
David Beers, Blue Sky Dream (New York: Doubleday, 1996), 254-255. Notably, in the 1990s,
the Lockheed Minority and Female Coalition would get fired up again and bring suit against Lockheed
during the threat of layoffs during the downsizing of the military industrial complex.
324
from these cases was that, as late as 1973, McDonnell and Lockheed, two of the
aerospace industry‟s giants, from two very different regions of the country, were still
guilty of racial discrimination, at least in a de facto manner. Despite more than a decade
of affirmative action laws, African Americans still faced a difficult time advancing to
well-paying, highly skilled jobs in the aerospace industry by the close of the Apollo era.
By the mid-1970s, whatever limited gains African Americans had made in
securing better paying jobs quickly eroded due to the recession of 1973. As a civil rights
commission concluded, by mid-1975, unemployment among nonwhites had risen to more
than 14% nationwide.284 The National Urban League reached an even harsher conclusion.
It estimated that unemployment among African Americans was close to 26%. Echoing a
similar sentiment, the Christian Science Monitor reported in January1975 that “the
overall rate of urban black unemployment now is higher than during the great depression
of the 1930s.”285 Finally, although some African Americans had broken into management
in the 1960s and early 1970s, by 1975, African Americans still only represented 3% of
managers and 3.2% of professionals in every industry, in a country were African
Americans made up about 10% to15% of the entire workforce.286 Even though some
African Americans had advanced in the aerospace industry, with an average of only 7%
to 8% of the total aerospace workforce, they still represented a smaller segment than in
the working population.
284
The report is quoted in Weiss, “We Want Jobs,” 196-197.
285
Ibid, 197.
286
Ibid.
325
Conclusion
During the Apollo era, some black Grummanites did not feel that they had
received the same consideration from the company as other employees or potential
workers, and they sought to remedy their situation. With the help of CORE, Big Brother,
the NAACP and other civil rights groups, African Americans pressed Grumman to help
them advance within the firm. When they did not receive the compensation or promotions
they felt they deserved, they tried to use the new federal affirmative action policies to
their advantage. When those policies failed them, for a variety of reasons including the
ill-conceived concept of employer “voluntary compliance,” they turned to the courts,
using newly enacted civil rights laws to redress their grievances. Their key strategy was
to attack Grumman where they could hurt the company the most—financially. They
called upon the federal government to withhold the F-14 contract from Grumman until
the firm met their demands for equal employment opportunity.
Grumman maintained that it had always treated its employees fairly, regardless of
race, ever since the firm‟s beginning. Company managers honestly believed that they
were taking care of all of their employees and treating them well. As African Americans
began using civil rights redress to press the company to change, however, Grumman
officials grudgingly began to reassess their minority workers‟ situations. Fearing that
African Americans might join forces with organized labor to achieve their civil rights
goals, company managers began meeting with CORE and Big Brother. While the
meetings generally stalled with neither side conceding much, the talks did at least force
326
Grumman to start making a greater effort to reach out to the minority community. In
some instances, the company‟s job fairs and recruitment trips paid off, but at other times,
their efforts did not. As with all of the nation‟s aerospace firms, the dearth of qualified
applicants meant Grumman had a difficult time recruiting African-American engineers
and upper-level managers. The firm‟s East Coast location further exacerbated
Grumman‟s problem; those few in-demand African-American engineers preferred going
west to sunny California.
Grumman‟s record of racial discrimination was no better or worse than any of the
industry‟s other major companies. Although black Grummanites ultimately lost their
lawsuit against the federal government, some did make limited gains at the company. The
fact that many skilled African Americans only gained access to the Grumman career
ladder by starting as porters demonstrates some record of discrimination. But many of
those employees went on to better paying and more advanced jobs. In general, there was
some record of improvement in salaries and positions at the company, well within the
norm of the country‟s entire aerospace industry. And several African Americans made it
into the ranks of Grumman‟s professional positions and upper management.
Unfortunately, these gains were achieved just as the Apollo era was coming to a close,
and the major economic recession of the early 1970s was forcing layoffs at Grumman and
other aerospace firms.
Near the beginning of the Space Age, Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson had
declared: “Because the Space Age is here, we are recruiting the best talent regardless of
race or religion, and, more importantly, senseless patterns of discrimination in
327
employment are being broken up.”287 Yet the nation‟s aerospace industry as a whole did
not want to face the problem of race discrimination while it rushed to put American
astronauts on Moon. It had been black pressure that had forced the enactment of new civil
rights laws, and those laws gave American aerospace no choice but to try to include
African Americans in the economic bounty that flowed from the Space Race.
287
Moss, “NASA and Racial Equality,” 1. The original quote is from a speech by Johnson in “The
New World of Space” (speech) Proceedings of the Second National Conference on the Peaceful Uses of
Space: Seattle, Washington May 8-10, 1962 (Washington, DC: GPO, 1962), 30.
CHAPTER FOUR
―JUST A TAP ON THE SHOULDER…‖: GRUMMANITES
AND THE AEROSPACE RECESSION OF THE
LATE 1960S AND EARLY 1970S
In the late 1960s, as the Apollo Program neared its goal of putting a man on the
Moon, the aerospace industry began downsizing many of its workers. These were the men
and women who had designed and built the hardware that would make the lunar landings a
reality, but now that their jobs were finished, many companies had no more use for them;
many firms simply did not have any other projects lined up that could absorb that large a
workforce. No aerospace company seemed immune from the demobilization. Even
Grumman, despite its paternal dedication to its employees, could do little to avoid having
to lay off a substantial number of workers in the late 1960s and early 1970s. As Long
Island‘s largest employer, Grumman‘s downsizing had a significant effect on its region,
both psychologically and economically.
This chapter explores the history of Grumman‘s layoffs through 1971. It analyzes
how Grummanites reacted to the downsizing and it looks at the impact that the
demobilization had on Long Island. It also places RIFed Grummanites‘ plights within a
national context by comparing their experiences with that of other former aerospace
workers across the country. Many Grummanites had joined the Bethpage company
because of its promise of a stable job and its potential for exciting growth and far-reaching
328
329
work. Grumman‘s culture of benevolence had also drawn many to the firm. These
employees were proud of their work and their company, and they were happy to identify
themselves as Grummanites. But in the difficult economic climate of the early 1970s, with
massive downsizing occurring, how did the layoffs and recession affect Grummanites‘
identities as part of the Grumman family? And how did they affect their identities as
people?
Grumman and Its First Significant
Layoffs of the Space Age
Grumman‘s first significant layoffs of the Space Age began in early 1967. 1 The
downsizing proved difficult for the company, at least psychologically, and the firm‘s
management knew it had to handle the situation carefully. At that time, the U.S. still
basked in the postwar economic boom of prosperity, and layoffs seemed illogical and
uncharacteristic to most Americans. Unfortunately for Grumman, the firm had needed the
bulk of its manpower in the early years of the lunar program, long before Apollo emerged
in the forefront of American Culture. The height of the company‘s Apollo-related
1
Several setbacks on some of Grumman‘s projects helped force the layoffs. A delay in the F-111,
a swept-wing Navy fighter-jet, became just one of the issues involved. The aircraft faced weight problems,
as well as power plant and computer challenges, which caused lengthy congressional hearings about the
program. Senator John McClellan (D-Ark), one of the key players in the investigation claimed that the
plane did not meet military requirements (even though it was supposedly Grumman‘s former TFX
design). In April 1967, he noted that ―even if all of its deficiencies are corrected and no further problems
arise,‖ the aircraft would still lag two years behind it original 1970 delivery schedule. Grumman had
projected that the aircraft would bring in about 1$ billion in business and its delay significantly hampered
the company‘s ability to keep all of its workers on the payroll.
Some of the other programs that faced setbacks and forced layoffs included the phasing out of the
C-2A, a twin-engine cargo plane that carried supplies between aircraft carriers and land bases; the
termination of the S-2D-SE Tracker, a carrier-based antisubmarine plane, which the company had built
for more than 15 years; and the retreat from maximum employment on the LM program. For more details
on these issues, see ―F-111B Trouble Cuts Grumman Payroll by 800,‖ Newsday, 18 April 1967, ―Layoffs,‖
Sect. A-10, Northrop Grumman History Center, Bethpage, NY (hereinafter cited as NGHC).
330
employment came in June 1966 and quickly dropped off soon thereafter.2 Grumman‘s
layoffs began in early 1967, almost two full years before the December 1968 Apollo 8
flight around the Moon, an event that represented the first significant television coverage
of the program and helped cement in America‘s collective mind that the Apollo Program
had come to full fruition. The Apollo Program represented the culmination of years of
racing the Russians in space, and the American public was finally starting to pay close
attention. In spinning these RIFs (Reduction-in-Force) internally and externally, the
challenge for Grumman was to explain the rationale for responsible reductions while still
maintaining the image of preparedness and innovation that would be key to its success
going forward.
Grumman‘s News and Communication Department became the company‘s main
office that tried to control the firm‘s public image when the layoffs began. Hank E.
Bockrath and R. M. Voris ran the department and tried to spin the workforce reductions
in a positive light even while Grumman prepared to downsize its LM workforce, faced
serious delays in the F-111 program, and dealt with the conclusion of several of the firm‘s
aircraft contracts.3 In early January 1967, Bockrath and Voris, realizing that the press
2
Grumman‘s LM staffing peaked in June 1966. At that time 7,500 employees worked on the
program. Engineers represented the bulk of the workforce in a ratio of 2 to 1 to production employees.
About 1000 of the LM staff did not fall strictly under the title of production or engineering, but rather fell
into categories like ―Administration and Quality Control, etc.‖). The company had constructed all of the
lunar modules by mid 1967. Grumman expected a ―very gradual‖ reduction in its LM workforce from
1967 through 1969. For more details, see and compare H.E. Bockrath to Glenn Nixon, 17 June 1966,
―LM-Personnel,‖ Sect. A-71; and ―F-111B Trouble Cuts Grumman Payroll by 800,‖ Newsday, 18 April
1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10. Both found in NGHC.
3
Several documents, when compared, reveal that Bockrath and Voris were the main players in
the company‘s News and Communications Department. See and compare H.E. Bockrath to Glenn Nixon,
17 June 1966, ―LM-Personnel,‖ Sect. A-71, NGHC; H. Bockrath, Grumman Aircraft Engineering
331
would soon make a spectacle of the layoffs, created a brief but carefully crafted statement
to try to minimize the shock of the upcoming reductions. Their January 27 press release—
which notably came on the same day that Apollo astronauts Gus Grissom, Ed White, and
Roger Chaffee lost their lives in the Apollo 1 fire atop a launch pad at Cape Canaveral—
tried to deemphasize the downsizing in a variety of ways. The statement began by noting
that, in the five years since the firm had become a major space contractor (it had won the
LM contract in 1962), the company‘s employment roll had risen substantially from
approximately 14,500 to more than 33,000. But given recent cutbacks in some of the
firm‘s projects, the company‘s workforce had become ―larger than required to meet the
needs of the company‘s responsibilities.‖4 Grumman therefore planned to reduce its hiring
rate significantly, as well as decrease its payroll via ―voluntary terminations‖ (those due to
―retirement, change of jobs, poor performance, leaving the company for health reasons,
etc.‖). The statement emphasized that in January and February the firm would go through
some ―natural attrition‖ (via ―voluntary terminations‖), but then subtly noted that such
changes would not allow the company to meet its manpower reduction goals; in other
words, there would still need to be some layoffs. 5 Obviously, the company wanted to
Corporation Inter-Office Memorandum, 10 February 1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC; Grumman
Aircraft Engineering Corporation Inter-Office Memorandum, 8 March 1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10,
NGHC; and Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation Inter-Office Memorandum, ―Personnel
Adjustments & Press Responses,‖ R. M. Voris to L. J. Evans, 18 April 1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10,
NGHC.
4
Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation, Press Release, 27 January 1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect.
A-10, NGHC.
5
The reductions, the statement noted, resulted from several factors including: the LM program
passing its employment peak, a temporary hold on the C2 Greyhound program, the upcoming termination
of the S2 Tracker series (a program that had been in production for 15 years), and the F-111 program‘s
332
emphasize ―voluntary terminations‖ as a solution to its ―excessive‖ workforce problems
and only briefly suggested, in passing, that the future might hold more ―traditional‖
downsizing.
An internal ―Statement Rationale‖ attached to the January 27 press release reveals
that the firm‘s public relations people planned to parse their words carefully regarding the
reductions. The ―rationale‖ projected that ―at some point in time in the next few weeks the
press will call on the matter of what it interprets as ‗severe Grumman layoffs.‘ Rumors are
rampant in and out of the company. The union will undoubtedly make the most of the
situation by siccing [sic] the press upon us. Those who are pink-slipped often telephone
newspapers.‖6 Curiously, Bockrath and Voris realized, regardless of the careful language
they tried to use, ―you can‘t hide these things. If you try to mislead with an initial
statement, the truth will [come] out in a second day story based upon the misleading
statement. We have to ‗own up.‘‖7 But they planned to ―own up‖ in a very subtle manner;
they seemed committed to deemphasizing the total number of workers that would face
layoffs because, in their words, they had ―lumped in the poor performers in the voluntary
terminations total in order to minimize the actual amount of personnel who are injustly
[sic] relieved of employment (It can be defended that anyone who performs poorly does so
of his own free will and chooses to suffer the consequences).‖8 The memo closed by
inability to offset these setbacks due to delays in its own production. See Untitled Company Statement, 27
January 1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC.
6
―Statement Rationale,‖ 27 January 1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC.
7
Ibid.
8
Ibid.
333
stressing that the company should not give the press the ―poor performers‖ figure by itself.
If the media asked for it, the company would note that it could not supply the statistic
because ―nobody counted the many diverse reasons why a party chooses to leave
voluntarily.‖9
Grumman‘s public relations team anticipated the media‘s moves well. In early
February 1967, Austin Perlow, a labor reporter for the Long Island Daily Press began
questioning the company about the layoffs, which the firm projected would total
approximately 300 to 400 workers.10 In a February 10 interoffice memo entitled ―The
Press Knows,‖ Bockrath stated that he had successfully ―dodged the issue of how many
are involved‖ by telling the press that the ―company is currently computing its immediate
manpower requirements and that a figure is not available at this time.‖ 11 But as the memo
concluded, Long Island‘s other major newspapers, Newsday and the Suffolk Sun, would
probably start questioning the company about the situation before long and ‖it is likely
both papers will follow the Press [Long Island Daily Press] story and press for essential
facts to fill gaps left in their story.‖12
On March 1, 1967, one of the first newspaper reports about Grumman‘s layoffs
appeared in the Suffolk Sun. The article noted that Grumman‘s peak employment of
9
Ibid.
10
H. Bockrath, Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation Inter-Office Memorandum, 10
February 1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC.
11
Ibid.
12
Ibid.
334
approximately 33,000 employees would soon ―drop slightly.‖13 It also stated that company
claimed that some workers were ―leaving voluntarily‖ and that the firm had only hired new
employees on a very ―selective basis.‖14 The story stated that Grumman officials had said:
―We are not laying off.‖15 But that statement stretched the truth. The company had
suggested that several of its employees ―voluntarily‖ change jobs and had targeted the
―poor‖ performers and lumped them in with the voluntary terminations. As the article
drew to a close it noted that unions had stressed that ―Grumman had discharged several
persons in recent weeks, and that more lay-offs may be on the way.‖16 All in all, the story
went along with Grumman‘s explanation of ―voluntary‖ terminations as the main reason
behind the company‘s manpower reductions. Even the article‘s title, ―Employment Drop
Noted at Grumman,‖ seemed rather tame.17
But by mid-April, the layoffs seemed more prominent and damaging thanks to
Newsday, Long Island‘s leading newspaper, which exclaimed in a headline ―F-111B
Trouble Cuts Grumman Payroll by 800.‖18 The newspaper‘s April 18 article stressed that
13
―Employment Drop Noted at Grumman,‖ Suffolk Sun, 1 March 1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10,
14
Ibid.
15
Ibid.
16
Ibid.
NGHC.
17
Ibid. As the Grumman News and Communications Department noted in an inter-office memo
about a week later, there was a distinct advantage in stating that the reductions in the workforce were
occurring naturally. If the company continued to push that argument, it might work to its advantage
―when the day comes that we might have to take the second step that step will not be quite so dramatic in
its impact.‖ For more details, see Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation Inter-Office
Memorandum, 8 March 1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC.
18
―F-111B Trouble Cuts Grumman Payroll by 800,‖ Newsday, 18 April 1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A10, NGHC.
335
while the company had faced certain setbacks because of the delay of contracts and the
completion of the LM‘s peak production schedule, the firm ―has let its work force drop by
800 persons.‖19 According to Newsday, Grumman had begun the year with approximately
33,400 employees on its payroll, but, by mid-April, that number had dropped to about
32,600.20 Although a layoff of approximately 2.4% of the company‘s workforce might
not seem significant, the reduction still had a notable psychological impact on
Grummanites and other Long Islanders.21
Newsday had also placed the reductions within the context of the ―already tight
labor market on Long Island‖ which was ―expected to get even tighter this year.‖22 The
newspaper had bluntly cast Long Island‘s largest employer and the nation‘s ninth largest
defense contractor in a critical light, and Grumman officials were not happy. A reporter
had contacted the firm before the story ran, but he did not accept the company‘s main line
about the downsizing, despite attempts on the part of President Lew Evans and other
corporate leaders to cast the situation in a positive light. 23 Evans came down hard on his
19
Ibid.
20
Ibid.
21
Grumman calculated its exact workforce reductions for January 1967 as follows: 559 total
terminations, 476 of which were voluntary, 83 of which were discharges, and 3 of which were of an
unreported nature. As of February, another 30 people had accepted voluntary terminations with another 57
still awaiting ―voluntary termination‖ status. Compared to 1966, when the total number of terminations
reached 3,860, the first few months of 1967 seemed on pace to overtake the previous year‘s reductions.
For more details, see handwritten statistics, circa February 1967, attached to ―Statement Rationale,‖ 27
22
―F-111B Trouble Cuts Grumman Payroll by 800,‖ Newsday, 18 April 1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A10, NGHC.
23
The company‘s main line about the layoffs, or rather ―Employment,‖ declared:
336
public relations team as a result of the story. He wanted to control the press, but, as Voris
explained to him, the situation was ―plagued with complexities somewhat greater than
screwing a nut on a bolt.‖24 Evans had helped craft a company rationale earlier in the year
about the reductions for the public relations team to use, but, as Voris explained to Evans,
despite giving Newsday his policy statement about employment, the newspaper had
chosen to interpret it, rather than use it ―directly.‖25 Voris continued on ―your guiding
remarks of this morning were well received by both of us [Voris and Bockrath]. It is not
that we haven‘t been doing just as you suggest (as attested to by the attached pro article)
The workload at Grumman has leveled off and an adjustment in
workforce is required because of a phasing out of our ASW program
and a gap in our AEW program; a lack of defense funding for the
COD program and the declining of scheduled effort on the LM. The
EA-6B program, which is essentially a continuation of the A6A
Program and the F111 Program are insufficient to compensate for the
decline. Grumman however, will continue to hire personnel with
special skills such as machine tool operators and electronic systems
engineers.
Evans may have helped craft this particular statement in early 1967. For more details on this issue, see
―Employment,‖ to Hank Bockrath, circa January or February 1967, attached to Grumman Aircraft
Engineering Corporation Inter-Office Memorandum, ―Personnel Adjustments & Press Responses, R. M.
Voris to L. J. Evans, 18 April 1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC. For more about the reporter contacting
Grumman, see Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation Inter-Office Memorandum, ―Personnel
Adjustments & Press Responses, R. M. Voris to L. J. Evans, 18 April 1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC.
24
Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation Inter-Office Memorandum, ―Personnel
25
For Voris‘s explanation about the press ignoring Evans‘s statement, see Grumman Aircraft
Engineering Corporation Inter-Office Memorandum, ―Personnel Adjustments & Press Responses, R. M.
Voris to L. J. Evans, 18 April 1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC. For what may be Evans‘s policy
statement on ―Employment,‖ see ―Employment,‖ to Hank Bockrath, circa January or February 1967,
attached to Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation Inter-Office Memorandum, ―Personnel
337
it is just a case that we lacked the finite control of this one as we have enjoyed in the main
with the rest of the media.‖26
Internal company response to press coverage of the layoffs reveals the extent to
which President Lew Evans involved himself directly in trying to handle perceptions.
Earlier in the year, Bockrath and Voris had tried to pull together a coherent policy
statement based on Evans‘s thoughts about managing the layoffs.27 Their draft statement,
based on their ―best thinking at that time‖ about how to deal with "the likely event that we
are questioned about a personnel reduction,‖ called for them to first ―deny emphatically
that there was any sort of layoff,‖ and then to state ―we are permitting natural attrition to
reduce the workforce total.‖28 They also planned to emphasize that although they had
continued to hire more employees, those new hires had been very select personnel, such as
machinists, electronic engineers, and radio frequency engineers, those types of personnel
―in short-supply in the industry.‖29 They added such workers to the roster at the rate of
about twenty to forty per week, but ―natural attrition,‖ they argued, offset the situation by
about one hundred or so every week.30 Still, the company strategically stressed that it had
26
27
28
The ―best thinking‖ quote is from Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation Inter-Office
Memorandum, ―Personnel Adjustments & Press Responses, R. M. Voris to L. J. Evans, 18 April 1967,
―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC. All of the other quotes are from Hank Bockrath, Untitled Memo, 1
February 1967 ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC.
29
Hank Bockrath, Untitled Memo, 1 February 1967 ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC.
30
Ibid.
338
adopted this policy in order to avoid any serious impact on
the community. And we are continuing the policy of job
flexibility which permits us to reassign people, thus enabling
us to cope with the knotty problem of the changing phases
of various programs. This can hardly be construed as a
layoff. Indeed, it is a policy designed to avoid one. 31
Media coverage reveals how difficult it was for Grumman to control even the
Long Island press. On April 20, Newsday printed another negative story entitled ―No
Limit Set on Job Losses, Says Grumman.‖32 The newspaper hammered away at the fact
that the firm had reduced its work force by ―800 workers in three months‖ and that ―the
company had set no minimum number for the size of its work force.‖33 In other words,
31
The quote is from ibid. The public relations team played devil‘s advocate and questioned
certain facets of this approach in trying to sway the press. In the same memo, Bockrath detailed two
arguments that opponents could seize to combat the ―natural attrition/semantic line.‖ According to
Bockrath, the first problem with this type of dialogue was that it ―would have to be casually spoken, not
read like it was a statement, in order to convince the reporter that nothing was prepared.‖ And second,
―the union, or pink slipped employees, may very well have called the press with seemingly a refutation of
the natural attrition principle.‖ Although Grumman was a non-union company, labor leaders would use
anything they could, such as the layoffs, to exploit the situation and try to get their foot in the door. The
critique continued on and laid-out a possible dialogue between the News and Communication Department
and the press, by noting:
in the event that the press is armed with the fact that some employees
were pink slipped we would then be forced to say something like:
‗Naturally, some of our people are pink slipped. It‘s not feasible in a
company of 33,000 people to believe that all of our performers would
be rated excellent.‘ To which the reporter would say: ‗You mean,
incompetence or poor performance.‘ To which we would reply: ‗You
said that, not me. I mean that in a company of 33,000 some will be
better performers than others.
The memo closed by noting: ―It is likely we would be forced to come up with total personnel force figures
to reveal the extent that natural attrition has, or will, reduce the total employment figure.‖ For more
details on this subject, see Hank Bockrath, Untitled Memo, 1 February 1967 ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10,
NGHC.
32
―No Limit Set on Job Losses, Says Grumman,‖ Newsday, 20 April 1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10,
33
Ibid.
NGHC.
339
more reductions seemed likely. Grumman had acknowledged that employment had
―leveled off‖ because of certain cuts in Department of Defense spending, and that some
programs like the LM had passed peak production; indeed, the firm ―had set no fixed
number below which the company could not function.‖34 The story ended by noting that
Grumman officials constantly reevaluated workforce numbers ―on a weekly basis to make
sure that we have enough personnel to meet all of our responsibilities and yet operate
efficiently.‖35 Although the Newsday article was not overly negative, it still did not paint
the most positive picture of the company‘s situation, at least not one that Grumman
managers wanted headlining the largest paper on Long Island.
If Grumman had written the story, it would have worded it very differently, as
witnessed by a press release that the News and Communication Department had prepared
just prior to the appearance of the Newsday article. Grumman‘s spin on the situation
contained carefully constructed, if not somewhat tortured, language:
We have reached our peak employment and are reducing
the total number of employees by permitting the number of
terminations to exceed the number of personnel hired.
Concurrent with our growth has been an automatic increase
in the number of people who leave the company. This is due
both to the fact that in growing we have acquired newer
people who have less of a stake in the Grumman company,
as well as the fact that today‘s labor market is highly
competitive.…
(if we must) It is true that some of our people are
being asked to leave for a variety of reasons (not properly
suited to the job; personality problems or personality
conflicts; insubordination; etc).
34
Ibid.
35
Ibid.
340
This number is not larger than what you would
expect in a company currently employing 32,800 people. 36
Despite the negative press Grumman had received about its layoffs by the end of
April 1967, the company seemed to have stabilized employment numbers. The earlier
layoffs seemed to have brought the company down to a number that the firm‘s payroll
could handle. A handwritten note attached to several public relations documents, intended
for use by the News and Communication Department, noted that the firm had ―solved the
program, stabilized and expect to be hiring again… 53 starters last week.‖37 Although the
company anticipated that it would need to do some more trimming in the future as other
projects ended, it seems like it had finished with downsizing–and its accompanying bad
press—at least for a while.
Aerospace Downsizing and the Space Program
in a Regional and National Context
In August 1968, layoffs in the space program became a national story when
Americans began to realize that the Apollo Program had its employment limits, thanks in
part to a story in the New York Times. On August 9, the newspaper announced that
NASA had started to prepare sharp reductions in its workforce. Congressional budget cuts
would force the space agency to release more than 1,600 employees, or approximately one
out of every six NASA workers hired the previous year. An additional 2,000 NASA
36
37
Untitled statement, circa April 1967, attached to ibid.
Untitled handwritten note, circa April 1967, attached to ―F-111B Trouble Cuts Grumman
Payroll by 800,‖ Newsday, 18 April 1967, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC.
341
contract employees would also face the chopping block. 38 The space agency had submitted
a $4.37 billion budget, but with the federal government needing to cut more than $6 billion
in overall expenditures, NASA‘s request needed some serious paring. Estimates placed the
possible reductions in NASA‘s budget anywhere from $150 million to $700 million.
Programs that faced losing their funding included the development of the Nerva nuclear
engine, several scientific Apollo Applications Program packages, and some unmanned
scientific instruments for Mars exploration. Until Congress could sort out the space
agency‘s funding, NASA would have to operate on a significantly reduced ―interim‖
budget for Fiscal Year (FY) 1969.39 Like Grumman, NASA had ―hoped to reduce its
work force by attrition,‖ but as the New York Times noted, more than 4,000 NASA
employees had lost their jobs in 1967 and things did not look good for many more of them
in the near future. As the Times stated in closing, in some warped form of fate, ―the first
launching of a manned Apollo vehicle is scheduled in about three months.‖40
Ironically, slightly above and adjacent to the story, another article celebrated
Apollo Astronaut James Lovell‘s selection as the command module pilot for the upcoming
Apollo 8 flight. It would be the first mission that would circumnavigate the Moon and
beam back close-range views of the lunar surface, as well as the image of the Earth rising
38
Richard D. Lyons, ―NASA Preparing A Sharp Cutback,‖ New York Times, 9 August 1968, in
―LM Publicity Book 2—R. Fleisig,‖ Vertical Files, Cradle of Aviation Museum, East Garden City, NY
(hereinafter cited as CAM).
39
40
Ibid.
As of August 1968, NASA employed approximately 30,000 workers. See ―NASA Preparing A
Sharp Cutback,‖ by Richard D. Lyons, New York Times, 9 August 1968, in ―LM Publicity Book 2—R.
Fleisig,‖ Vertical Files, CAM.
342
above the Moon‘s horizon; that photo would become one of the signature images of the
ecological/environmental movement of the era. At the same time that aerospace workers
faced the prospect of losing their jobs, the press celebrated the astronauts who would
travel to the Moon in spacecraft that had been the fruits of those workers‘ hard labor. 41
NASA employees were not the only aerospace workers facing layoffs in 1968. On
August 31, Newsday reported ―1,200 to Lose Jobs in Grumman Cutback.‖42 According to
Grumman, it would be the first time since the end of WWII that the company had laid off
more than 1,000 people.43 During that period, the firm had employed approximately
36,000 employees.44 The new reduction would occur over an eight week period due to a
slowdown, or ―stretch-out,‖ in the production of the F-111A fighter. The RIFs would
conclude the week of October 15.45
Joseph Dutra, Jr., the Executive Vice President of the Long Island Association of
Commerce and Industry, did not view the layoffs ―as a blow to the Long Island
41
―Navy Captain Joins Apollo Crew,‖ New York Times, 9 August 1968, in ―LM Publicity Book
2—R. Fleisig,‖ Vertical Files, CAM.
42
―1,200 to Lose jobs in Grumman Cutback,‖ Newsday, 31 August 1968, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10,
43
Ibid.
NGHC.
44
Grumman Plans Layoff of 1,200 for 8 Weeks; F-111 Cutbacks Blamed,‖ Wall Street Journal, 3
September 1968, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC; and ibid.
45
Federal budget cuts caused the slowdown in the F-111. The DoD had announced a ―stretchout‖ of the F-111‘s production schedule. Grumman was a subcontractor on the aircraft for General
Dynamics. The Bethpage company produced the plane‘s fuselage, vertical stabilizers, and its landing gear.
For more details, see and compare ―Grumman Plans Layoff of 1,200 for 8 Weeks; F-111 Cutbacks
Blamed,‖ Wall Street Journal, 3 September 1968, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC; and ―1,200 to Lose Jobs
in Grumman Cutback,‖ Newsday, 31 August 1968, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC.
343
Economy.‖46 He tried to put a positive spin on the situation by speculating that the 1,200
employees ―would probably not be out of work very long.‖47 He claimed that they ―would
practically immediately be absorbed into the work force. There has been a shortage of
skilled help on Long Island, at least for the past five years.‖48 Dutra concluded that such
layoffs should be expected, especially ―in an economy where a substantial amount of labor
is employed by the aerospace defense industry.‖49
Union officials had a different take on the reductions. One hinted at how much
they still coveted Grumman, even years after their unsuccessful unionization campaigns of
the early 1960s. As Ennio ―Chip‖ Morselli, a local organizer for the United Auto Workers,
stated: ―If I was working there 20 years I‘d be concerned. The people at Grumman are
sort of complacent. Now they‘re starting to worry about their jobs.‖50 When pressed about
what a union could do for Grummanites, however, Morselli admitted that even if it had
secured the right to represent the employees, he could do little beyond trying to insure that
the workers with the most seniority were the last to receive pink slips.
Only a week into Grumman‘s projected eight-week autumnal layoff, it became
apparent which type of workers faced the most significant reductions. A Grumman
interoffice memo entitled ―Daily Analysis of Removals‖ revealed that of the 329
46
―1,200 to Lose Jobs in Grumman Cutback,‖ Newsday, 31 August 1968, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10,
47
Ibid.
48
Ibid.
49
Ibid.
50
Ibid.
NGHC.
344
terminations that had already occurred by early September, more than half came from the
blue-collar sector, especially in production and manufacturing. Engineers also faced severe
cutbacks, but not as many as the blue-collar workers. They only represented roughly 17%
of the total RIFs.51 The report included statistics from not only the company‘s Bethpage
plants, but also its Florida operations.
By the end of 1968, even though blue-collar Grummanites seemed the hardest hit
by the layoffs, at least they could take solace in the greater number of job opportunities
open to them. Engineers, while not facing as many RIFs as production workers, had fewer
job options than their colleagues on the shop floor. Very few job openings seemed to exist
in the New York region for white-collar workers compared to their blue-collar
counterparts. Thirty-three outside firms had made referral requests about former
Grummanites during this period, but of those firms, most only offered opportunities for
skilled manufacturing employees. Few of the job opportunities went to engineers. In fact,
only nine of the firms had even requested professional level workers, and of those very
few needed more than a handful.52
51
Some rough calculations reveal that 176 of the 329 workers (or approximately 54%) were bluecollar employees, whereas only fifty-four (or approximately 17%) were engineers. These figures are based
on jobs that could only be clearly delineated as being blue-collar or engineering positions. A few more jobs
may fit into these categories, but the calculations are fairly close to the correct number. The exact
breakdown, by department/job, is as follows: ―Admin/Facilities: 8; Business Devel: 0; Computing
Systems: 5; Contract: 1; Engineering: 43; ―…re Systems‖ 1; GFAL: 10;
MATERIAL/MANUFACTURING—Material: 25; Mf‘g Eng‘g 11; Tool Eng‘g 0; Tool Fabrication: 15;
Production Shops (includes some Stuart people): 140; Production Offices 10; Machine Shops 21; Machine
Offices 1; Ops, Planning and Scheduling: 3; Product Support: 13; Program Dir and Contr : 3; Public
Relations : 0; Quality Control: 7; Security and Pers Serv: 3; Something ―..es‖ 9; in Stuart FL: 4; Treasurer
Controller: 0.‖ For the exact details, see Interoffice Memorandum, ―Daily Analysis of Removals,‖ R.E.
Foster to D.E. Knowles and F. Campbell, 16 September 1968, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC.
52
Only some of the larger and more famous aerospace firms like Sperry-Rand and CurtissWright needed engineers, and they only needed a few of them. For more on this subject, see Attachment,
345
In some ways, 1969 began in a promising manner for Grumman. The company
won a major contract from the Navy early that year to design and built the F-14 ―Tomcat‖
(a supersonic carrier-based fighter); estimates projected that the program would bring the
firm approximately $5 billion over the next decade. 53 Unfortunately for Grumman,
however, the program would not help increase employment for a while because the
company still had the plane in research and development; production would not begin for
another eighteen months. Nevertheless, some aerospace industry analysts viewed the new
contract in a very positive light. Long Island Association President William J. Casey, who
would later serve as CIA Director under President Ronald Reagan, called the award a
―major milestone in the history of Long Island‘s defense industry and economic
development.‖54 He believed that the F-14 agreement might create as many as 20,000 jobs
over the next five years. Casey also thought it would ―go a long way toward fostering the
economic well-being and general welfare of Long Island‘s economy.‖55
Regardless of the positive news about the Tomcat, Grumman still struggled
financially. The company found itself caught in a quandary. On one hand, it wanted to
keep experienced staff—its talent—in place so that it could successfully compete for
―Referrals—Requests from Outside Companies,‖ attached to ―Terminating Employees (Temporary
Procedure), 9 September 1968, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC.
53
The F-14A had replaced the F-111B. Many had previously known the F-14 as the VFX. Long
Island Daily Review, 16 January 1969, ―Personnel,‖ Sect. A-8, 1st Drawer of C7, NGHC.
54
Long Island Daily Review, 16 January 1969, ―Personnel,‖ Sect. A-8, 1st Drawer of C7, NGHC.
Additional information about the Long Island Association and its then President William J. Casey was
obtained from ―Long Island Association,‖ Wikipedia, accessed 9 October 2008,
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Long_Island_Association. The Association was the largest business
development lobbying group on Long Island, a type of sophisticated Chamber of Commerce for the entire
area.
55
Long Island Daily Review, 16 January 1969, ―Personnel,‖ Sect. A-8, 1st Drawer of C7, NGHC.
346
future aerospace contracts, but, on the other hand, it also had to reduce its overall
expenses at all of its plants and field offices including Bethpage, Houston, Cape Kennedy,
and White Sands, NM. The idea of keeping experienced staff in place became such a major
challenge for Grumman that NASA even weighed in on the issue. In February, Joe Gavin,
Grumman‘s Director of Space Programs and a company vice president, received a memo
from the space agency on the subject. NASA wanted Grumman‘s key personnel to remain
in place in order to support those programs currently in their mission phases. Grumman
may have technically fulfilled its contractual obligations to NASA by delivering various
vehicles and scientific instruments, but the space agency wanted to make sure it kept the
right people in place to handle any upcoming difficulties. Grumman, likewise, wanted to
assure that it retained those who had worked so closely with NASA, while the space
agency continued to plan the future of the space exploration through missions like the
Apollo Applications Program and the Space Station. Overall, the Bethpage firm had to try
to find a balance to a hard situation with no clear solution, particularly during such
difficult economic times.56
56
―Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation Space Programs Directive,‖ Joseph G. Gavin,
Jr., to R.H. Tripp, S. Ferdman, N. Sinder, 14 February 1969, ―J.G. Gavin Memos 1969,‖ Untitled Box,
Sect A-68, NGHC. For a discussion of at least one way that Grumman tried to reduce its field office
expenses, while still keeping talented people in the field, see Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation
Inter-Office Memorandum, ―Field Base Policy,‖ J. G. Gavin, Jr., to L. J. Evans, R. Hutton, W. M.
Zarkowsky, 3 April 1969, ―J. G. Gavin Memos 1969,‖ Untitled Box, Sect. A-68, NGHC. Gavin‘s
memo—a follow-up to a Senior Salary Board meeting—tried to suggest a logical way to reduce salaries at
the company‘s field bases. While field assignments had previously received solid pay, Gavin believed that
because the field offices were going to be reduced by at least 50% over the following two years, it became
a good time to scale back pay expectations for such positions. He wanted to stress to employees the
importance of taking these jobs as a good move for their professional development. In other words, he
wanted to emphasize the importance of trading lower pay and a move away from the company‘s home
base of operations to the field offices as a type of prestigious service to the company that would enhance
an employee‘s professional development. As Gavin concluded on the subject: ―I think that if a transition
347
By the time Grumman held its annual shareholder meeting in May 1969, the
tension over the issue of employee retention versus profits had become a primary concern
for the corporation. Despite such struggles, the press seemed to handle Grumman in a
somewhat friendly manner. Newsday‘s Long Island Business Editor, Francis Wood, who
covered the meeting for the newspaper, wrote a fairly positive article about the firm, even
though the story‘s title—―Grumman Plans Light Layoff: Even As Its Module Heads for
the Moon, and its Basic Plane Business Booms, the Company Schedules a Summer
Slowdown‖—might have seemed jarring at first.57 Wood succinctly summarized the
company‘s situation in his opening paragraph by stating:
While the Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corp‘s lunar
module streaked for the moon yesterday in a dramatic show
of the firm‘s technology, the corporation‘s management
back on earth wrestled with the problems of keeping the
shop busy. And, they reluctantly told stockholders, there‘ll
have to be some slight cuts in the work force this summer,
due to a space slowdown and a lag before production starts
on the Navy F-14 jet fighter.58
Nevertheless, Wood noted that the Navy had recently increased its F-14 production goals
by more than 50%. That meant that the seafaring service ultimately wanted more than 700
of the supersonic fighters from Grumman—a production run that would probably last
about ten years. Even though the company‘s space work would slide from 34% to 27% of
could be made during a period of perhaps a year, we will save some money, gain the approval of our
customers, maintain a competitive position in the industry, and perhaps ease the problem of making field
site assignments as well as Bethpage reassignments.‖
57
―Grumman Plans Light Layoff,‖ Francis Wood, Newsday, 20 May 1969, ―Layoffs,‖ Section A10, NGHC.
58
Ibid.
348
the firm‘s total business, thanks to the Tomcat contract, defense work would increase to
62% of the budget. Wood also noted that Clinton Towl, Grumman‘s Chairman and CEO,
had stated: ―There‘ll probably be a slight reduction [in the workforce] this summer. Not
substantial, percentage wise, but until the F-14 gets into production we have a greater
demand for engineers than factory people.‖59
Even though Towl stressed that the layoffs would be ―slight,‖ that was far from the
truth for a significant portion of Grummanites. Shortly after the conclusion of the annual
shareholders meeting, Grumman released a fairly devastating press statement, at least for
10% of the workforce.60 The statement, which had at first been entitled ―Layoff
Statement,‖ and then renamed ―Reduction in Force,‖ and finally ―Decrease in Force,‖
simply noted that the company would drop approximately 3,500 employees from its
payroll before the end of 1969.61 The reductions would come from all major areas and
59
Some of the other issues covered at the stockholder‘s meeting included: Grumman‘s first
significant change in corporate structure since the firm‘s birth (the firm planned to diversify by become a
holding company named the Grumman Corporation on July 1, of which the Grumman Aircraft
Engineering Corporation [GAEC] would become just one part of the entire entity); a significant increase
in the sales of the new Gulfstream II aircraft; and the fact that Grumman had spent more than $40 million
improving its facilities and adding about 500,000 square feet of new manufacturing and research space.
For more details, see Francis Wood, ―Grumman Plans Light Layoff,‖ Newsday, 20 May 1969, ―Layoffs,‖
Section A-10, NGHC.
60
One cannot determine the exact timing of the press release with any certainty. However, based
on the fact that Francis Wood did not mention the statement in his May 20 article, it seems logical to
assume that the release came after the shareholder‘s meeting. See and compare ibid; ―Decrease in Force,‖
Draft of Grumman Press Release, circa 19 May 1969, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC; and ―Grumman to
Drop 10% of Work Force,‖ Newsday, 21 May 1969, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC.
61
―Decrease in Force,‖ Draft of Grumman Press Release, circa 19 May 1969, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A10, NGHC. For some additional perspective on Towl‘s statement, see ―3 Bleak Years of Layoffs on LI,‖
Newsday, 10 August 1972, ―Grumman Aircraft Corp. Clippings Undated—1973,‖ Long Island Studies
Institute, Hofstra University, Hempstead, NY (hereinafter cited as LISI).
349
would mainly occur simply ―through attrition.‖ It blamed the layoffs on a stretch-out in the
EA-6B program and cutbacks in the Air Force‘s bomber version of the F-111.62
Regardless of the impact a 10% layoff would have on Long Island, Newsday¸
despite its past criticism of Grumman, handled the story rather uncritically. The May 21
article entitled ―Grumman to Drop 10% of Workforce‖ noted that the company had stated
that the layoffs would have only a ―slight impact‖ on Long Island‘s economy.63 A
Grumman spokesperson claimed that a ―substantial portion‖ of the reductions would be
―accounted for through attrition, or normal turnover due to deaths, illness, retirement, or
resignation.‖64 That same spokesperson went on to say that ―the average attrition rate
varied from 50 to 120 persons per week,‖ but as the paper noted, ―he refused to say how
many persons would be asked to leave or on what basis.‖65 Clinton Towl, believed that the
workers could be ―easily absorbed by the surrounding industry.‖66 Fred Merrell, Executive
Vice President of the Long Island Association of Commerce and Industry, concurred,
saying it would be ―a comparatively light layoff, when you consider that there are close to
62
See and compare ―Decrease in Force,‖ Draft of Grumman Press Release, circa 19 May 1969,
―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC; and ―Grumman to Drop 10% of Work Force,‖ Newsday, 21 May 1969,
―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC.
63
―Grumman to Drop 10% of Work Force,‖ Newsday, 21 May 1969, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10,
NGHC. The other major Long Island newspapers carried very similar, if not somewhat watered-down,
versions of the Newsday story. See and compare ―Grumman to Cut Staff 10%,‖ Long Island Press, 21
May 1969, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC; ―Grumman to Cut Force 10 per cent by Dec. 31,‖ Suffolk Sun,
21 May 1969, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC; and ―Grumman to Cut force 10 per cent by Dec. 31,‖ SunTimes, 21 May 1969, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC.
64
―Grumman to Drop 10% of Work Force,‖ Newsday, 21 May 1969, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10,
65
Ibid.
66
Ibid.
NGHC.
350
940,000 employed on Long Island.‖67 The 10% drop in the workforce had a major
psychological effect on Grummanites and Long Islanders, however. Layoffs during the
previous fall had only totaled about 300 people.68 This time the layoffs would increase that
number tenfold.
In early July 1969, the Wall Street Journal reported that RIFs had started to
increase throughout the entire aerospace sector, particularly at some of the largest firms.
The paper claimed that aerospace industry analysts placed the layoffs at 16,000 at the
larger space aerospace companies from January through July, and that figure did not
included ―cutbacks caused by the cancellation of the Manned Orbiting Laboratory [MOL]
program.‖69 Grumman was only the latest company to announce cutbacks, which the
manufacturer projected at approximately 4,000 for the year—the projected 10% loss.70
McDonnell Douglas also planned to layoff about 7,200 employees, mostly in Southern
California, due to the cancellation of the MOL program. This reduction came on top of a
projected 9,000 employee downsizing already in the works.71 Even though McDonnell had
secured a new contract for the F-4 Phantom II jet, widespread cutbacks still occurred at
the firm. The company estimated that its employment rolls would fall to 114,000 by the
end of the year, down from 123,000 the previous December (1968), or just a little under
67
Ibid.
68
69
―Aerospace Companies Laying Off Workers As Space and Defense Projects Slacken,‖ Wall
Street Journal, 8 July 1969, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC.
70
Ibid.
71
Ibid.
351
10% of its workforce.72 Boeing, in Seattle, also went through some significant
downsizing. In the six months from January through June 1969, the Northwest
manufacturer had released about 1,000 workers a month at its main plant. The company‘s
total employment had fallen from 95,000 to 89,000 during that same period. 73
Back in Bethpage, only days after one of Grumman‘s greatest triumphs—putting
the first men on the Moon, thanks to the company‘s Lunar Module—employees got some
more bad news. On July 24, the firm learned that NASA would terminate the Lunar
Module-A Program, a project slated as part of the Apollo Applications Program (AAP). 74
The Lunar Module-A—a modified version of the ascent stage of the LM that had landed
men on the Moon—would have been an integral part of an interim space station system. 75
Plans had called for the AAP to use the technology and leftover hardware from the Apollo
Program. Grumman had worked on the program for more than three years and had
received $12.9 million for its development, $11 million of which the company had already
spent. Six hundred Grummanites had participated in the AAP‘s development. 76 Despite the
72
To its credit, McDonnell Douglas tried to help its workers who were facing layoffs find jobs.
At the time of this article, the company had apparently invited more than 50 aerospace companies to its
plants to try to recruit some of them. See ibid.
73
Ibid. Lockheed of El Segundo, California seemed unaffected by the slowdown in aerospace and
defense spending. The company claimed that it had not planned any substantial RIFs, even though it had
lost its contract for the AH56 helicopter. The firm stated that its employment would remain relatively flat
at somewhere between 95,000 to 96,000 through the year. For more on this subject, see ibid.
74
―Grumman Says Lunar Module Program Cut,‖ Suffolk Sun, 24 July 1969, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-
10, NGHC.
75
Ibid.
76
Ibid.
352
end of the program, a Grumman spokesperson said he felt ―very, very confident‖ that most
of the 600 employees would receive reassignments to other advanced projects at the
company.77
The first few months of 1970 brought a spate of more bad news for Grummanites
and other Long Islanders. In January, Sperry Rand, one of Grumman‘s neighbors,
announced it would layoff 250 workers, including 153 engineers. 78 Brookhaven National
Laboratory, another Long Island employer, stated it would release 250, and Reeves
Instrument of the Dynamics Corporation revealed that it planned to move to Westbury,
Connecticut, taking a myriad of jobs with it.79 Then, on the very last Friday in February,
Grumman revealed that it planned to RIF another 5,000 employees from every division in
the company by the end of the year due to cuts in space and defense spending.80 And by
the time the story hit the newspapers the following Monday and Tuesday, March 2 and 3,
Long Islanders learned that 800 employees had already been axed by the Bethpage
manufacturer; of those, only 200 had left due to ―attrition.‖ While company officials
stressed that attrition had taken care of most of the layoffs in the past, that hardly seemed
77
―Grumman Says Lunar Module Program Cut,‖ Suffolk Sun, 24 July 1969, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A10, NGHC.
78
―3 Bleak Years of Layoffs on LI,‖ Newsday, 10 August 1972, 2-2, ―Grumman Aircraft Corp.
Clippings Undated—1973,‖ LISI.
79
80
―Wanted: Some Teamwork,‖ Newsday, 2 March 1970, ―Clippings 1972,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
―3 Bleak Years of Layoffs on LI,‖ Newsday, 10 August 1972, 2-2, ―Grumman Aircraft Corp.
Clippings Undated—1973,‘ LISI; and Maureen O‘Neill, ―800 Jobs at Grumman Already Eliminated,‖
Newsday, 3 March 1970, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC.
353
the case this time.81 With unemployment on Long Island having increased to 4.4% in
January 1970, and some projections claiming it would continue to rise in the foreseeable
future, the situation looked grim for Grummanites and other Long Islanders. 82
Local officials had shown little concern about previous reductions in the
workforce, believing that the former employees would quickly reintegrate into Long
Island‘s economy, but Grumman‘s announcement got their attention. Three years after the
company‘s first layoffs, local politicians finally began to focus some attention on the
downsizing problem. Suffolk County Labor Commissioner Lou Tempera, in a report for
County Executive Lee Dennison, noted, ―the spreading effects of the layoffs on Long
Island‘s economy.‖ As Tempera suggested, ―These layoffs have a tendency to snowball….
It affects not only the Grumman worker but the gas station where he takes his car, his
barber shop and so on.‖83 Nassau County Executive Eugene Nickerson, on the other hand,
believed that the layoffs showed that local officials had to start thinking of moving toward
reconversion because they ―point up the need for a broad program to help convert (Island
81
―Effects Are Weighed in Grumman Layoff,‖ Newsday, 2 March 1970, ―Clippings 1972,‖ Sect
A-61, NGHC; and Maureen O‘Neill, ―800 Jobs at Grumman Already Eliminated,‖ Newsday, 3 March
1970, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC.
82
As of January 1970, Long Island‘s unemployment rate had reached 4.4%, which meant it had
risen 0.4% higher than the previous January. Each month the region‘s unemployment rate had grown. As
Newsday noted, ―While the unemployment rate averaged 4.1 per cent in 1969, the same as 1968, Long
Island‘s unemployment rate for the last six months of 1969 rose to 4.26 per cent, compared with an
average of 3.9 per cent for the last six months of 1968.‖ See Maureen O‘Neill, ―800 Jobs at Grumman
Already Eliminated,‖ Newsday, 3 March 1970, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC.
83
A-61, NGHC. For a little more on Tempera‘s thought on the subject, see ibid.
354
industries) from military and aerospace to new growth fields in the economy.‖ 84 For
Grumman, even landing a new contract did not look like it could offset the downsizing.
Although the company had put a lot of time and effort into some of the preliminary
designs for the Space Shuttle, one Grumman official stated that even if the company could
secure ―one of the $10,000,000 awards from the National Aeronautics and Space
Administration‖ for a Shuttle study contract, it ―would not brighten the labor picture‖ for
the firm.85
Newsday‘s March 2 editorial entitled ―Wanted: Some Teamwork‖ offered no real
solutions to the problem despite its leading title.86 The essay stressed that the 5,000
Grummanites who would lose their jobs would do so during a period when the
unemployment rate on Long Island, as well as prices, would continue to rise. Ironically,
even though Grumman employees had continually eschewed organized labor throughout
the company‘s history, the editorial mentioned that the Long Island Federation of Labor,
which represented union workers in Nassau and Suffolk County and had a membership of
about 70,000, had set up a ―‘Save the Jobs Committee‘ to try to ease the impact of
military and space cutbacks.‖87 Newsday called on County Executives Dennison and
Nickerson to ―set up a joint task force immediately,‖ stressing ―this is a time for
84
A-61, NGHC.
85
Ibid.
86
―Wanted: Some Teamwork,‖ Newsday, 2 March 1970, ―Clippings 1972,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
87
Ibid.
355
teamwork.‖88 Its underlying tone revealed that many Long Islanders, particularly those in
political office, had suddenly realized that the layoffs represented a significant problem, yet
no one had ideas about how to alleviate the situation.
A day after Long Islanders had received the news that Grumman would lay off
5,000 of their friends and neighbors, they also learned about perhaps a more promising
future for at least some Grummanites. Newsday reported that even though the F-14, the
company‘s vital new contract for a state-of-the-art supersonic jet, had encountered some
problems in the U.S. House and Senate during a Senate subcommittee‘s hearing about the
aircraft, the Navy had still been quite pleased with the company‘s design and handling of
the jet. Grumman had met most of its performance targets with the aircraft. While some
Senate subcommittee members had expressed their doubts about the program, the Navy
had decided that it wanted to expand its original contract for 469 F-14s to buy more than
1,200 of the jets. Despite this apparent good news, Grumman cautioned that the additional
purchase of Tomcats would not really affect the projected 5,000 person reduction because
the company had assumed all along that Congress would not cut the F-14 program. The
company also feared that an increase in the contract might not ultimately come to fruition;
after all, the jet still had several barriers to clear on the hill before they could consider it
totally safe from possible budget cuts.89
88
Ibid.
89
―F-14 Clears First Hurdle,‖ Newsday, 3 March 1970, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC.
356
One Grumman Engineer‘s Downsizing
On March 5, 1970, Long Islanders and others got an up-close and personal view
of the effects of Grumman‘s downsizing, if they had not already. On that day, Newsday
staff writer Maureen O‘Neill published a very revealing story about one unnamed RIFed
Grummanite. ―Layoff: A Grumman Engineer‘s Story‖ began poignantly: ―Just a tap on the
shoulder and the Grumman engineer knew that he was already off the payroll.‖90 He drove
out of the company‘s main gate and went across the street and put in an application with
another firm. After calling a few friends, he ―found out that everything was frozen,‖ he
said. The 49-year old engineer then ―went home to tell his wife for the second time in six
years that his defense job suddenly had been wiped out.‖91 As O‘Neill noted: ―It happened
on a Friday, in the afternoon . . . . Just a tap on the shoulder.‖ 92
The engineer had lost his job in early February, about four weeks before Grumman
announced its 5,000 worker layoff. He had not expected to lose his position because he
had been keeping busy; in fact, he believed that he would receive a transfer to a different
division. But ―shortly after lunchtime,‖ his supervisor came by to tell him about his
dismissal. His department head also stopped by to try to ―soften the blow.‖ 93 They
informed him that even though his ―work had been satisfactory,‖ every department had to
90
Maureen O‘Neill, ―Layoff: A Grumman Engineer‘s Story,‖ Newsday, 5 March 1970,
91
Ibid. The newspaper noted that the engineer wanted to remain anonymous so that he could
keep his job prospects open.
92
Ibid.
93
Ibid.
357
make cuts and they could not afford to transfer him. 94 Both of his superiors told him that
they had been unable to sleep trying to figure out some sort of way to keep him on staff.95
The engineer found the severance process a bit jarring. As Newsday reported, he
―had to leave work right away. He headed to his desk, packed his belongings in a few
boxes, and then his boss, who continued to be apologetic, helped him lug his possessions
out to his car.‖96 The engineer believed that his boss was as shocked as he was about his
layoff. The ―former Grummanite concluded, ‗I really didn‘t expect it and I was
disappointed that I couldn‘t be placed anywhere.‘‖97
O‘Neill‘s article pointed to a very important feature of many aerospace engineers‘
mindsets during this period. Many of them had secured well-paying jobs that afforded
them a certain degree of optimism and confidence, fostered in part by a lifestyle that had
engendered middle-class comforts. Although the former Grumman engineer had suddenly
lost his livelihood, he had adopted a ―suburban life style‖ during his years at the Bethpage
company ―that breeds a confidence in the future, even if there isn‘t another paycheck for
six months.‖98 O‘Neill observed that the engineer ―was prepared to stay out of work at
least that long to land a job at close to the $240 a week he was getting at Grumman.‖99
Notably, economists at the time believed that most RIFed employees would find new jobs
94
Ibid.
95
Ibid.
96
Ibid.
97
Ibid.
98
Ibid.
99
Ibid.
358
within six months of their layoffs.100 Back in 1964, the engineer had panicked a bit more
when he had lost his job at Sperry Gyroscope after more than twelve years of
employment; the company had included him in a downsizing from 18,000 to 7,000. 101 His
first RIF, more than six years earlier, had shocked him a bit, but he seemed a little more at
ease after losing his Grumman position. As he sadly noted: ―Maybe I‘m getting
accustomed to the idea. If it‘s never happened before…you wonder if you can pick up.
You have that doubt.‖102
Even four weeks after his termination, the former Grummanite had not really
altered his lifestyle that much, at least not outwardly. The family still ate steak. Their
greatest financial concern had become how to deal with upcoming college tuitions for their
eighteen-year old daughter and seventeen-year old son that next fall. Despite such
concerns, the engineer remained fairly optimistic as he expected his children to ―get partial
scholarships‖ and ―part-time jobs.‖103 His twelve- and two-year old sons still had many
years to go before attending college. All he really wanted, he insisted, was ―a decent living
and normal things for our children and ourselves, with a new car occasionally.‖104 The
man seemed confident that he could wait a while to secure a good job. The family
100
Ibid.
101
Ibid. When the engineer left Sperry in 1964, he had had to take a $70 per week pay cut, and
he had to work that job for over a year before landing a new position at Grumman. His did not make much
more at Grumman than his previous job when he first started at the Bethpage company, but he eventually
worked enough overtime to pull in a decent paycheck.
102
Ibid.
103
Ibid.
104
Ibid.
359
essentially lived on a $170-a-month budget, which covered everything from the mortgage
to the telephone bill. And given his severance pay, money in the credit union, and his $65a-week unemployment benefit, he seemed satisfied that he and his family could survive
quite nicely for a while.105 Nevertheless, he did seem a little worried that he might have to
dip into savings at some point.
Yet prospects for his securing a new job did not look good. At the unemployment
office, he discovered that the agency had not placed anyone in a technical position in more
than three months. Indeed, few jobs of any type had opened up during that period. In one
instance, over 300 people applied for the same position. The unemployment office told
him to keep knocking on as many doors as possible to try to find the right position, and he
did that for quite a while. After more than a month of that type of hustling, however, he
decided to spend most of his time on the phone calling to check on leads. He had learned
that ―no one calls you back or answers your letters.‖106
By the summer of 1970, former Grummanites like the anonymous engineer, as well
as many of the other unemployed Long Islanders who had suffered the effects of the
layoffs, had heard some mixed news about the future of Grumman that seemed to hold
some promise for reemployment. On one hand, NASA had awarded Grumman—as well as
four other companies including McDonnell Douglas, North American Rockwell,
Lockheed, and the Chrysler Corporation—an individual contract for a preliminary design
study of the Space Shuttle. Although the award only granted the Bethpage firm enough
105
Ibid.
106
Ibid.
360
money to draw up some initial concepts that would still have to compete head-to-head
with the other companies‘ plans in order to capture the final Shuttle contract, the
possibility of eventually securing the right to develop and construct a new fleet of NASA
spacecraft seemed hopeful.107 In the meantime, however, the situation looked bleak. The
new study contract did not prevent the company from laying off more than 5,000
employees. Unemployment on Long Island had reached 4.5% in April, up from 3.6% the
previous year.108 Economists and labor experts believed that the figure might reach as high
as 7% by the end of the year.109 Hope remained the only motivating force for many of the
RIFed workers who wanted to return to employment in the aerospace industry. But as
they would soon learn, the industry‘s downsizing had affected a number of other
107
―Transit Jobs Bring Cash to Grumman,‖ Newsday, 2 July 1971, ―Unidentified Blue
Notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC. Right after winning the $4 million study contract
for the design of the Space Shuttle in the summer of 1970 (a Phase A Follow On Study—See Chapter Five
for more details), Clinton Towl, Grumman‘s Chairman and CEO, seemed optimistic. He predicted an
increase in the company‘s earnings for Fiscal Year 1970, despite the firm‘s layoffs. According to the
Electronic News, a trade newspaper based in New York City, the company‘s 1969 earnings of $3.06 per
share became the ―second highest since 1950.‖ Obviously, some in Grumman‘s front office believed that
working on the Shuttle would really help the firm significantly. For more details, see Bernard Lett, ―Long
Island: Stormy Weather,‖ Electronic News, 13 July 1970, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC.
108
Maureen O‘Neill, ―40% Laid Off at LI Defense Plant,‖ Newsday, 5 June 1970, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect
A-10, NGHC.
109
By the summer of 1970, Grumman projected its payroll would drop to 27,000 workers by the
end of the year, down from about 35,000 employees in 1969. Sperry Gyroscope, while not nearly as large
as its Bethpage neighbor, had laid-off 250 since the beginning of the 1970. Over one decade, that
company‘s workforce had dropped from a high of 18,000 to 5,500. Similarly, Republic Aviation had also
made some big cuts. The Farmingdale manufacturer had laid off some 1,200 workers since January 1970
to bring its total employee base down to approximately 3,800. Although Republic had secured, or bid on,
several subcontracts, including work on the F-4, the F-14, the 747, the SST (Supersonic Transport), and a
safety car for the Department of Transportation, its main problem remained that it had not won a primary
contract to build its own aircraft; in other words, the firm only worked subcontracts for other firms, which
did little to sustain the company. For more information on the plight of Sperry Gyroscope see ibid. For
more on Republic‘s problems, see Bernard Lett, ―Long Island: Stormy Weather,‖ Electronic News, 13 July
1970, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC.
361
businesses throughout the country, which in turn renewed their doubts about the prospects
of finding a new job, either in, or outside, of aerospace.
The Trickle-Down Effects of the 1970
Aerospace Slowdown
As with most recessions, the economic downturn in the aerospace industry had
profoundly affected multiple U.S. business sectors, particularly by mid-1970. In July, the
Electronic News, a trade newspaper based in New York City, recounted the recession‘s
trickle-down effects on Long Island‘s electronics firms. The paper described the economic
and work environment as extremely ―stormy,‖ at best. 110 The New York Department of
Labor reported that employment at regional electronic firms had slowed significantly over
the previous year. Overall, the industry had lost approximately 11% of its workforce and
area aerospace employment had dipped about the same amount over that period. 111 Long
Island‘s total unemployment had risen four-fold from May 1969 to May 1970, increasing
from approximately 10,000 to more than 44,000. 112 Ironically, as the Electronic News
reported, perhaps Long Island‘s ―biggest shot in the arm‖ might come in the form of a
new $40 million IRS data-processing center slated to open shortly in western Suffolk
County. The new facility would employ approximately 2,000 full-time and 2,000 part-time
110
Ibid.
111
New York Department of Labor figures show employment dipped at Long Island electronic
firms from 41,600 in May 1969 to 37,100 in May 1970. Aerospace employment figures on the island fell
in a similar manner from approximately 41,000 to 35,200 during the same period. For more on this
subject, see ibid.
112
Ibid.
362
workers. But such jobs would not help out-of-work aerospace workers use their skills
fully.113
Unemployment among the nation‘s technical elite had reached significant levels by
the fall of 1970. Although Long Island had borne a significant percentage of the aerospace
downsizing, the problems reached nationwide and across several industries. Electronic
News noted that the aerospace industry slowdown had profoundly affected the electronics
industry because of all of aerospace‘s subcontracts. On November 1, the New York Times
featured an important cover story in its Sunday magazine entitled ―Down and Out Along
Route 128,‖ which recounted the plight of several unemployed electrical engineers and
scientists who used to work along the well-known Boston-area road that held many of the
major electronics firms in the Northeast.114 The article recounted several unemployed
engineers‘ stories—in essence, mini-accounts of their experiences after being RIFed.
Although writer Berkeley Rice‘s article primarily focused on Boston-area electrical
engineers and scientists, the piece illuminated many of the problems that Grummanites
faced, while also drawing attention to many of the national trends in technical
unemployment, particularly those brought on by the downturn in aerospace.
The layoffs hit the Route 128 corridor hard. In early 1969, approximately 50,000
engineers and scientists worked for firms in the area, a region that contained ―one of the
greatest concentrations of technical talent in the country.‖ But by the fall of 1970, over
113
Ibid.
114
Berkeley Rice, ―Down and Out Along Route 128,‖ New York Times Magazine, 1 November
1970, 28.
363
10,000, or approximately 20%, of those technical elite had received pink slips. 115 As
Massachusetts employment officials revealed, unemployment among technical workers in
the state had approximately tripled throughout 1970, and those numbers did not even
include all of those people out-of-work who refused to ―file because of pride, or the hope
that a job will turn up soon.‖116 Rice concluded that unemployment in the area had
reached ―epidemic proportions.‖117 Raytheon, one of the largest employers in New
England, actually closed its Space and Information Systems Division in Sudbury,
Massachusetts. Before the first wave of cutbacks in 1969, Raytheon had employed over
30,000 in the region. By the fall of 1970, however, that company‘s payroll had dropped to
just 3,500 workers.118
For many of the employees who retained their positions, their jobs became quite
difficult. Two major issues emerged for them: harder work and an underlying and
unspoken fear that they might be the next to lose their positions. Ironically, layoffs caused
companies to strive for more efficiency, which meant that many of those employees who
remained on-the-job had to work harder and longer hours to take on the tasks that former
workers use to handle. For an employee who received an hourly wage, that change most
often worked to his or her advantage because of the extra money overtime brought. For
engineers, however, who worked on salary and thus did not get overtime pay, the work
115
Ibid., 29.
116
Ibid.
117
Ibid.
118
Ibid., 93.
364
became more intense. A still-employed physicist told Rice, ―There‘s a lot of talk about
pulling together to save the company . . . but it‘s actually to save our jobs.‖ 119 If
employees learned that someone might be RIFed, many workers stopped talking to that
person altogether; it seemed that some believed that if they ignored that person, then they
might not receive a pink slip themselves.120 Some professionals could not hide their
contempt for the denial process linked with layoffs. As a least one engineer told Rice,
retirement lunches became commonplace at many companies as firms essentially forced
some employees to leave their professions early. The engineer described to Rice that these
affairs became ―pretty gruesome‖ because ―about 20 or 30 guys…get up and say what a
great guy he was, and he gets up and tells them how much he enjoyed working with them
and everything. Eeyuch!‖121
Although many employees found themselves caught up in denial about the layoffs,
some companies also deluded themselves, as well as others, with the language they used to
describe the downsizing. Many of the Boston-area electronics firms developed some very
sophisticated phrases to describe layoffs, just as Grumman had on Long Island. Some
companies came up with ―euphemisms‖ to try to soften the blow for those who were laid
off, as well as to try to deflect the media from choosing harsh words when describing the
119
Ibid., 29.
120
Ibid., 93.
121
Ibid.
365
RIFs. Some of the phrases they developed to identify unemployed workers included
―displaced,‖ ―surpluses,‖ and ―temporarily furloughed pending recall.‖122
Grumman‘s in-house newspaper Plane News featured a story in November 1970
that explained the company‘s exhaustive downsizing process. In the eleven months since
January 1970, Grumman had reduced its workforce from approximately 31,700 employees
to about 26,500 workers.123 Despite the company‘s early predictions that most of the
reductions would occur through ―normal attrition,‖ the company discovered that only
40% of them came about in that manner.124 Grumman Vice President Tom Rozzi, Director
of Security and Personal Services, stressed that the other 60% of them occurred based
solely on a lack of business, not because of poor employee performances. If business
improved, he stressed, than ―many of them will be recalled.‖125 Rozzi explained that an
employee‘s individual department would review his or her possible RIF twice before
downsizing that person. And if an employee had served with the company long-term, a
corporate officer would review the case before he or she received a pink slip. A
―Termination Review Board‖—consisting of one employee from each of the company‘s
eight main areas, including technical operations, security and personnel services, program
management, finance, operations planning and scheduling, and product operations—also
122
Ibid., 28.
123
―Special Report—Rozzi Reviews Work Cutback,‖ Grumman Plane News, 13 November 1970.
The same thing is reported in ―Rozzi views reduction in force, says RIF completed for ‘71,‖ Grumman
Plane News, 8 October 1971. Both found in NGHC.
124
Ibid.
125
Ibid.
366
met on a weekly basis to ―assure a fair and consistent approach toward terminations.‖ 126
Once targeted for termination, an employee had ten days to transfer to another department
or one of the company‘s subsidiaries, if possible. But those who could not find a new
position received a typical severance package, which included a set amount of pay based
on their length of company service, some possible job leads, counseling if desired,
information about converting their medical and life insurance to a personal account after a
thirty-one day transition period, as well as details about how to obtain unemployment
insurance.127 Rozzi explained that the company tried to be as ―fair and honest‖ and ―as just
and objective as we can‖ in regards to the RIFs.128 He hoped ―that business conditions
improve soon in the aerospace industry‖ so that he could hire people back, instead of
having to continue with the layoffs.129
Despite this scrupulous process, during a period of such unstable employment, age
discrimination became an issue, and one of the factors that some companies used to decide
who stayed and who went. As Rice discovered, Ph.D.‘s often lost their positions before
anyone else, regardless of their length of service to their companies; they had become too
expensive for many firms. Human Resources departments questioned whether it made
sense to pay older workers‘ high salaries when younger engineers would work harder to
126
Ibid.
127
Ibid.
128
Ibid.
129
Ibid.
367
save their own jobs and for much less money. 130 One experimental physicist, Dr. Wayne
Lees, a 56-year old scientist who had lost his $23,000 job at NASA‘s Electronic Research
Center (ERC) in Cambridge, Massachusetts, had once worked on environmental systems
for the Apollo Program.131 Unlike many of his colleagues who scrambled to try to secure
new positions right after they received their pink slips, Lees took a few months before he
began his job hunt.132 He knew that his age, or rather ―experience,‖ was a detriment. As he
diplomatically put it: ―When you get back a dozen answers saying, ‗You are too highly
qualified for the position we have open,‘ it can mean among other things, that you are too
old.... Many companies probably feel I am too highly qualified, or too expensive for
130
Berkeley Rice, ―Down and Out Along Route 128,‖ New York Times Magazine, 1 November
1970, 29.
131
Interestingly, Rice believed that in the Boston metro area, particularly at NASA‘s Electronic
Research Center (ERC) in Cambridge, Massachusetts (where Lees used to work), ―federal cutbacks in this
area are due more to political spite than simple economics.‖ Area employers believed that the Nixon
Administration was ―deliberately punishing Massachusetts Senators Edward Brooke and Edward Kennedy
for their lack of support on the A.B.M. [anti-ballistic missile], the Haynsworth-Carswell nominations and
other crucial legislative matters.‖ The shuttering of the center had put more than 800 people out of work.
While no scholar has made a clear connection to show that the closing of the ERC occurred due to a direct
political move, many in the aerospace industry felt that politics had become one of the main drivers
behind many contract awards and a variety of other issues. For example, some believe that the awarding of
the Space Shuttle contract happened in this manner. Many Grummanites felt that the company had clearly
won the right to the contract, but at the last minute, the Nixon Administration gave it to North American
Rockwell, in Los Angeles. Some Grummanites found that a very curious move in the middle of an election
year—awarding a major contract to a California company, a key election state. For more on the Space
Shuttle issue, see section X of this chapter. The story surround the ERC issue is in ibid., 93-94.
132
Fortunately, Lee, like the anonymous Grumman engineer that Newsday had featured earlier in
the year, had saved enough money to survive without having to work for a while. His wife, a part-time
social worker, continued to bring-in a paycheck, and that money, when combined with his severance pay
and unemployment check (Lee could collect up to ten months of unemployment at the rate of $74 a week),
meant that the family could fare alright financially for a while. He believed that he might start his own
private consulting firm if no new position emerged for him. Notably, even though many professionals lost
their sense of identify when they got cut from their aerospace jobs, Lee, on the other hand, stated: ―I am a
physicist . . . and I still consider myself a physicist, and a member of the profession, even though I am no
longer attached to the organization.‖ For more details, see ibid., 95.
368
them.‖133 Even though Lee would have taken a lower paying job with ―lesser professional
standing,‖ he did not have much luck.134 As an employee at one of the leading technical
placement agencies opined about the issue of ageism, Lee and others‘ predicament was
not that they were too old, per se; the tight labor market was the problem. An oversupply
of workers in a tight labor market made it hard to place anyone. 135
RIFed engineers had an extremely difficult time trying to find new positions in such
a depressed job market. Some out-of-work professionals placed ―Situation Wanted‖ ads in
newspapers; classified sections seemed full of them. In these types of ads, unemployed
workers would enumerate their special skills and experience, and state what type of
position they hoped to secure.136 At one point, job competition became so intense that one
company-run ad calling for an engineer elicited over 400 inquiries over a three-day
period.137 As Rice noted, the whole process had become a ―humiliating experience for men
accustomed to the respect due professionals.‖138 Even if these professional men and
women believed that they could gain an employment advantage by keeping up with
technical journals while being out of work for a while, they quickly discovered that they
still remained less attractive to employers because they did not have any up-to-date hands-
133
Ibid.
134
Ibid.
135
Ibid.
136
Ibid., 28.
137
Ibid., 96.
138
Ibid.
369
on experience in the field.139 Facing incredibly difficult and depressing odds, many of the
engineers and scientists, Rice noted, had ―given up the search for a job in their own field.
Some are now working as rug salesmen, TV repairmen, bartenders, landscape gardeners.
Those who take such nontechnical jobs in the hope of getting back into the industry when
the economy improves face the danger most feared among engineers—obsolescence.‖140
Arnold Limberg, a former electronics engineer with ITEK, became one of the men
who entered a new field. At 42, he had become quite bored with many aspects of his
former position, and yet also quite stressed. As a tester for ITEK, he was subject to
numerous demands. Limberg had often dreamt of quitting his job and becoming a
handyman, and when he received his pink slip, he got the chance to make the switch.
Limberg had faced a couple layoffs during his career at ITEK. The first occurred in
August 1969, but then the firm rehired him the following November. Nevertheless, three
months later, ITEK RIFed him again. Although he seemed fairly unconcerned during the
first downsizing, by the time of his second, he knew he had to do something else to make
a living. So he sent out scores of resumes and decided to start his handyman business. As
he remembered from his childhood during the Depression: ―You do something or you go
broke. I saw enough of that when I grew up in South Dakota in the thirties.‖ 141
139
Ibid.
140
Ibid.
141
Ibid.
370
His new business card read ―Odd Jobs: You Name It, I‘ll Do It.‖142 The new
position averaged about $200 a week, quite a different salary than his former $20,000 a
year job as an engineer. Still, Limberg seemed quite happy to charge only ―$5 an hour for
yard work, $6 for painting, and $7 for roofing and carpentry.‖143 Notably, Limber relished
one perk of his new job, the physical demands of the work; he quickly lost twenty pounds
of ―office-work flab‖ doing the odd jobs.144
Limberg‘s wife Rita seemed embittered by the layoffs. She had to give up her parttime nursery school job and take on a full-time insurance position just to make ends meet.
She wondered: ―How could he spend all those years studying and applying his craft…and
then be suddenly told there was no use for him? In such a technical country as ours, surely
a man with a master‘s degree in engineering must be needed somewhere.‖145 Rice also
observed that Limberg no longer trusted his former field; he vowed never to return to
electrical engineering because ―he had painfully learned it‘s not particularly stable.‖ While
he admitted he had been unhappy in the profession because of all of the desk work he had
done, he still noted that ―it‘s hard to break out when you‘re in good money.‖146 Shortly
after Limberg‘s interview with Rice, he found an engineering position at a garbage
compacting firm. It paid a lot less than his former aerospace job, but it also involved using
142
Ibid.
143
Ibid.
144
Ibid.
145
Ibid.
146
Ibid., 98.
371
machines more than his last position, so he seemed much happier at his new job than he
had been previously.147
Unlike Limberg, Phil Blum, a 41-year old scientist, had been satisfied with his
position at Norton Research in Lexington, Massachusetts. He made $16,500 a year and
had received a great deal of press by the time he got his pink slip in May 1970. Blum had
gained some fame in 1967 when his company featured him in a full-page ad in Time
magazine entitled ―Norton‘s Moon Man.‖ The copy recounted how Blum had created
artificial moon dust that the astronauts had used during their training in the early years of
the Apollo Program.148 Ironically, after Blum lost his job, he changed his personal copy of
the ad to read: ―Norton‘s Moon Man—Bites Dust.‖149
As with many families caught up in the aerospace industry‘s downsizing, Blum and
his wife had to find a way to make ends meet, and as a result, they became a two-income
family. Despite his Ph.D., Blum could only secure a teaching position at a local high
school.150 His wife Peg returned to her nursing career, which she had abandoned after the
birth of their two children. In a reversal of traditional gender norms, she started pulling in
$11,900 a year, while he only made $9,300. He also had to start preparing dinner because
he got home before she did. A newly hired cleaning woman took care of the family‘s other
147
Ibid.
148
Ibid., 101.
149
Ibid., 103.
150
Ibid., 101.
372
household chores.151 Even though the Blums‘ two incomes afforded them more money
than Phil‘s previous salary, they still considered whether Peg ought to give up her job so
that she could return home to the more traditional female role of mother and housewife. 152
Although Blum had grown somewhat bored with his old job at Norton, he still
believed people viewed his new teaching position as much less prestigious. He observed
that ―When I use to tell people I was a nuclear physicist they were impressed. Now, when
I tell them I‘m a high school teacher, I still can‘t say it with the same feeling of pride.‖153
Although Blum‘s wife believed that their friends admired Phil for working in education, he
did not agree; he told the Times that ―they tell me how much they admire me for going
into teaching, but some of them really feel sorry for me.‖154 Still, Blum‘s new work, and
the possibility of starting a new profession further down the road, made him feel as if he
was ―just coming alive again. I feel like I‘ve been in solitary confinement all those years,
and now I‘ve been liberated.‖155
Like Blum, former electrical engineer David Gernes had also grown bored with the
rote nature of his job. In fact, Gernes realized that his job had not only resulted in a loss of
excitement, it had also cost him a lot in his personal relationships. In an attempt to remedy
the situation, the 33-year old had cofounded a company with two friends—a firm that
151
Ibid., 101 and 103.
152
Ibid., 101.
153
Ibid., 103.
154
Ibid.
155
Ibid.
373
specialized in high-powered telescopes. Shortly thereafter the firm merged with another
business, but that company downsized him. For Gernes, the layoff made him question his
priorities and led him to sell his stock in the corporation. He took some of his new funds
and renovated two old houses and made them rental properties. His change in lifestyle had
made him realize that ―as you plummet out of the corporate cloud, you suddenly discover
that you‘ve never really had time to develop penetrating relationships with your wife and
children. The same with your friends. You see them once a week for cocktails or a dinner
party, but you don‘t really know them. I‘ve learned that what matters is people, rather
than things.‖ 156
"There ARE Job Opportunities":
Hopes for Reconversion
For the former technical elite—former engineers and scientist like Limberg, Lees,
Blum, Gernes, and many others—the first major wave of the downsizing of the aerospace
sector and its symbiotic industries in the late 1960s belied an unspoken contract between
the federal government and those who had answered the nation‘s call to scientific and
technical arms in order to combat the Soviet Union in the wake of the Sputnik launches of
1957. The United States needed a massive influx of technical and scientific professionals
to help it gain superiority in outer space and put the first men on the Moon. The new jobs
promised solid salaries and prestige; the Moon was supposed to be the first link in a long
chain of space-related innovations that included the construction of a Space Shuttle, an
Earth-orbiting Space Station, and putting men on Mars. In short, once someone
156
Ibid.
374
committed themselves to working on the U.S. space program, it seemed as if they could
look forward to a lifetime of challenging and exciting work, and being rewarded very well
financially. Many were now discovering that dream would not be fully realized, however.
One by one, all the promises seemed to be unraveling, from great salaries to never-ending
employment. The bounty seemed to be coming to an end.
Salaries in the aerospace sector and its related fields had remained flat over the
1960s, contrary to predictions for the fledgling industry when it began a little more than a
decade earlier. Thus many aerospace workers entered the industry at the top of their
earning potential, with little room for growth. Harold Goldberg, the head of the Greater
Boston IEEE (Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers), noted that people thought
that the engineers would always have work and receive solid compensation for it. 157 He
observed that ―since the days of Sputnik, engineers have been the golden boys of industry.
People always heard about those wonderful starting salaries for the graduates of MIT, but
no one hears about what happens to those salaries over the years. They don‘t increase the
way they do in other professional fields. There‘s sort of a ceiling on engineering
salaries.‖158 By 1970, new MIT Ph.D.‘s, on average, earned $17,000 annually while
holders of Master‘s Degrees received $12,000, and those with Bachelor of Science
157
At the time Rice‘s article first appeared, the Institute of Electrical and Electronic Engineers
(IEEE), the largest professional society in the field, had started talking about the possibility of forming a
union to protect engineers‘ jobs and standardizing employment practices in the field. Ironically, however,
most of the IEEE‘s leaders served as managers, and they did not really want a union because it would not
serve them well. Former engineers, who had been out-of-work for a while, were the only people clamoring
to organize at this point. See ibid., 103.
158
Ibid.
375
degrees made $10,500 a year. Journalist Berkeley Rice had discovered that in order to
save money, many companies had actually hired cheaper labor. Ph.D.‘s, in other words,
often had a harder time getting a job than those with lesser degrees.159
Rice also revealed that many former engineers and scientists felt betrayed by the
federal government; looking around, they suddenly wondered what they would do if they
lost their jobs. As one former Raytheon engineer noted, ―The government has supported
these areas for years with fat defense and space contracts. In many fields it was the sole
source of funds. Now they come along and say they don‘t want this expertise any more.
They just up and pull out all the funds and leave us high and dry, with no jobs. What the
hell are we supposed to do now?‖160
For some, the answer was to teach engineers how to transfer, or ―reconvert,‖ their
skills for use in another industry. The idea of retraining former technical employees, or
―reconversion‖ as it became known in the media, suddenly appeared as the way to help
former engineer and scientists make the transition from one economic sector to another,
and thereby keep the nation from slipping even deeper into recession. Some Long
Islanders had talked about it as a way to help former Grummanites get back on their feet,
but many questioned the idea. As Rice discovered, at least one technical placement agent
believed that ―industry today just doesn‘t accept the idea of transfer of skills. A senior
engineer is just kidding himself if he thinks he can transfer.‖161 Similarly, a senior engineer
159
Ibid.
160
Ibid.
161
Ibid., 104.
376
still employed along Route 128 expressed his doubts: ―Sure we favor a Government
retraining program, but let‘s face it, why should we hire a radar engineer who has
retrained as a computer man when we can get hundreds of guys who‘ve been working
with computers for years? I know that sounds cold-blooded, but that‘s business.‖162 Many
engineers embraced reconversion as a way to tackle broader social problems, such as
pollution, affordable housing, and mass transportation. Rice concluded, however, that ―in
many cases the skills involved are too exotic or specialized for such conversion, but a
number of engineers and research companies would be willing to try—if the Federal
money were available. They can‘t switch fields until it is.‖163
Rice concluded his New York Times article by focusing on the effects that
downsizing might have on the technological future of the United States. Like Grumman,
many companies grappled with the issue of keeping their technological talent in place, and
what it meant if they could not succeed at retaining certain staff members. Jamie
Chapman, a 33-year old with E. G. & G., astutely told Rice that
some firms are getting close to the crucial stage. They‘re
beginning to lose people who give them their technical
competence. If you let too many of these people go, you are
forced to close down a whole department. Some of these
research teams took years to assemble. Once you close them
down, you just can‘t build them up again quickly when
market conditions change. In some fields we are
systematically dismantling entire areas of technology. This is
a real danger to the country‘s scientific competence. 164
162
Ibid.
163
Ibid.
164
Ibid.
377
In key technological metro areas like Boston, Long Island, Los Angeles, and many others,
downsizing had done more than hurt each company‘s bottom line; it had also, it seems,
started to jeopardize the future of American technological superiority.
Back in Bethpage, Grumman had created a very key publication for inclusion in its
employee termination package—a very thorough document entitled ―Finding a New Jobs:
Steps to Success‖—which tried to reach former employees by using corporate language
and a traditional business model. In this case, the job-hunter became a product for sale.
Perhaps the company believed that method would connect well with engineers and other
professionals. Some of the publication‘s practical and accessible advice became clear just
based on the handout‘s topics, including: ―Product Analysis—Know Thyself;‖ ―Market
Research—Who Can Use You?;‖ ―A Word on Employment Agencies;‖ ―Sales
Promotion—Your Good Assets Advertised;‖ ―The Interview—Prepare for It;‖ and
―Closing the Deal.‖165 It also included sensible advice on how to budget and handle
finances until a new job offer came, as well as numerous examples of resumes and cover
letters. ―Chapter I: Before Job Hunting‖ opened by sympathizing with the reader:
―Looking for a job can be the hardest job of all. Right now, the world can look pretty
bleak, but you are certainly not alone. Above all, remember two things: [a] You are
intelligent and have useful skills, [b] There ARE job opportunities.‖166 It closed with more
165
―Finding a New Job: Steps to Success,‖ Grumman Aerospace Corporation, circa November
1970, ―Employee Handbooks,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC.
166
Ibid.
378
encouragement: ―We join you in hoping your use of this procedure is infrequent. GOOD
LUCK!‖167
Some former Grummanites did not have to wait very long before employers came
looking to hire them. But the companies existed in an entirely different sector than
aerospace. As 1970 came to a close, the Nassau County Employment Task Force set up a
small job fair to try to connect former aerospace workers with insurance industry
recruiters.168 The experiences of these engineers underline the challenges of switching
professions mid-career. During the two-hour session held at the Island Inn, a local motel,
insurance salesmen tried to pitch their jobs to the former engineers, who seemed less than
enthused at the opportunity. As a local newspaper put it, the salesmen could have spoken
in Latin for all the former engineers seemed to care. None of them really wanted to switch
from aerospace to insurance; they wanted to remain in their fields, or move into tangential
professions which utilized their skills.169
Some of the forty-one men who attended the job fair were willing to at least
consider a position in insurance. As one of them realized, with a family to care for, and
mounting bills to pay, ―you grab any kind of job just to go back to work.‖ Edward
Kouttron, a former Grumman production manager who had worked at the company for
167
Ibid.
168
For more detail about the Nassau County Employment Task Force and its efforts, see and
compare Lynn Rosellini, ―An Insurance Job?,‖ circa December 1970/January 1971, unidentified
newspaper, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC; Lynn Rosellini, ―Laid-Off Engineers Grub for a Living,‖
Newsday, circa January 1971, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC; and Ed Lowe, ―Last Day at Work Ends in
Bitterness,‖ Newsday, circa March 1971, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A61, NGHC.
169
Lynn Rosellini, ―An Insurance Job?,‖ circa December 1970/January 1971, unidentified
newspaper, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC.
379
more than twenty-nine years, viewed the seminar in a positive light. Although he had not
given up entirely on finding another aerospace-related position, he had started to consider
taking on an insurance job because, ―you don‘t just sit home waiting for the phone to ring.
Anything is worth a try.‖170 Similarly, a former Grumman mechanical engineer said that he
was ―willing to try almost anything.‖171 The fifty-five-year old man told newspaper
reporters that he wished to remain anonymous because he did not want to sabotage his
employment opportunities; he believed that companies did not want to hire older workers.
―Every time I hear of a lead on an engineering job, I try it out,‖ he reported, but ―I get so
close, and then I lose it. They don‘t say you‘re too old, but that‘s what they‘re
thinking.‖172 For this engineer, reconversion was a myth. ―I took a civil service test for a
government job, but they said I was over-qualified,‖ he said. ―They think that it‘s a joke
that I want to go into something else.‖173
On the other hand, some viewed the prospect of working in the insurance industry
with skepticism. One former electrical engineer said, ―I‘m just not cut out for it. I couldn‘t
take it, having doors slammed in my face and phones hung up on me. It would be
frustrating, and the bookkeeping would drive me up the wall.‖174 Frank Maxiner, a fortysix-year-old electrical engineer formerly with the Sperry Gyroscope Company in Great
170
Ibid.
171
Ibid.
172
Ibid.
173
Ibid.
174
Ibid.
380
Neck, simply gave up on the insurance industry because he ―was not a good salesman.‖
Aerospace engineering skills did not simply transfer to a sales position. The father of five
children aged three to seventeen, had used up all of his unemployment insurance and was
rapidly drawing down his pension.175 Harold E. Dort, another former mechanical engineer
who had worked in the aerospace field for more than twenty-five years, did not even
bother attending the seminar, despite an invitation, because ―that‘s not the career for me.
I‘m still trying to get something in the field I know. I can‘t just throw it over after so
long.‖176
Of the former aerospace employees who had attended the job fair, most were in
their forties or fifties, had worked in the aerospace industry somewhere between ten and
thirty years, and had made between $15,000 and $20,000 a year. The insurance task force,
which had sponsored the workshop and had started trying to hire RIFed Grummanites and
others as early as August 1970, eventually interviewed approximately 1,300 people by
December 1970 for about four to five hundred insurance-related positions. Of those
interviewed, about one hundred found jobs in the actuary business. Many of those had
come from the ranks of Nassau County‘s unemployed, who represented approximately
5.7% of the area‘s workforce by the end of 1970. 177
175
Maxiner had earned $19,000 a year while with Sperry. After leaving the insurance industry,
he had started training to become an optician. Maxiner and his family lived in Huntington Station at the
time. For more information, see Roy R. Silver ―‘Overqualified‘ L.I. Workers on Relief,‖ New York Times,
24 March 1971, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
176
Lynn Rosellini, ―An Insurance Job?,‖ circa December 1970/January 1971, unidentified
newspaper, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC.
177
Ibid.
381
While unemployed aerospace workers scoured Long Island and the New York
City region looking for work, those Grummanites who had remained at their jobs faced
some of their own challenges during the ever-tightening economy. By the end of the
summer of 1970, several Grummanites had started taking advances on their paychecks to
make ends meet. In a period when any worker could receive a pink slip with only a
moment‘s notice, the company found it necessary to generate an extensive policy memo
entitled ―Handling Advance Account Balances for Employees that are RIFed.‖ The
lengthy memo detailed the steps to take when an employee, who was suddenly laid off,
had already taken an advance against his or her paycheck. Payback was essential, the
company noted, if the employee owed the company more than his severance package
allowed. The new policy became just another sign of the tough times for both the
employed and unemployed.178
By the fall of 1970, aerospace unemployment had become so unstable on Long
Island that the American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics‘ Aerospace Resources
Committee conducted a special discussion and hearing about the situation. Although the
panel included several local politicians and industrialists, it had no ―working-level
engineers‖ to help the committee understand the situation from a practical perspective. 179
Furthermore, the panel primarily wanted to design a program that could ―make use of the
skills of unemployed aerospace professionals in government, educational, and industrial
178
―Draft Procedure: Handling Advance Account Balances for Employee‘s that are RIF‘ed,‖ 9
September 1970, ―Personnel,‖ Sect. A-8, 1st Drawer of C-7. NGHC.
179
Although the panel did not include any ―work-level engineers‖ at the time, it promised to
include some on the committee in the future. See G. Rosenthal, ―Aerospace Unemployment—Converging
Spheres of Interest,‖ Astronautics & Aeronautics 8, no. 10 (October 1970): 15.
382
fields outside of aerospace.‖180 In other words, members of the panel embraced the need
to help unemployed aerospace engineers find a way to transfer their skills to jobs outside
of aerospace, a strategy that some contemporary economic and occupational experts
found questionable. As soon as the panel finished its presentation, it got an earful from the
audience, most of who consisted of unemployed aerospace workers. An industry magazine
described their response: ―Several engineers expressed severe disenchantment with the
industry, because of the poor outlook for employment, and because of industry‘s and
government‘s apparent lack of concern for the future of unemployed aerospace
professionals. This was in contrast to industry‘s courtship of engineers when projects
placed a demand for hiring.‖181
The Widespread Effects of Downsizing
on Grummanites and Other
Long Islanders in 1971
By the beginning of 1971, the trickle-down effects of Grumman‘s downsizing were
adversely affecting local businesses significantly, especially restaurants and bars. In the
past, Grummanites had flocked to such establishments and spent part of their discretionary
incomes at them, but now such places remained virtually empty. In January 1971, Long
Islanders learned that Grumman‘s workforce would drop by another 3,000 employees by
the end of the year. Grumman officials, falling back on an old company public relations
tactic, announced that only about 1,800 would receive pink slips; another 1,200 would
180
Ibid.
181
Ibid.
383
technically leave their jobs as a result of ―natural attrition.‖182 Whatever the exact causes
of the projected job losses, with such significant downsizing promised, area businesses
suffered because many Grummanites worried whether or not they would continue to hold
their jobs.
Dining out became a luxury many could not afford. John Krajewski, owner of
―John‘s Oasis,‖ a restaurant which stood very close to Grumman, had noticed a significant
drop in business by the beginning of 1971. In the past, he had served an average of 130
lunches a day, but with the layoffs and the recession going full-bore, he only catered to
about forty patrons a day—a drop of over two-thirds. As one Grummanite noted, with the
182
In January 1971, Metalworking News and Woman‘s Wear Daily claimed that Grumman
would layoff 3,000 to 5,000 workers that year. Grumman Executive Committee Chairman William T.
Schwendler thought the estimate too high. When asked about the figure he noted: ―I don‘t think it‘s
anything like that—I‘m sure of it. It will be the usual layoffs but nothing really big.‖ Grumman‘s
Administrative Vice President John P. O‘Brien called the reports in the two papers simply ―not true.‖
Schwendler and O‘Brien knew that the company would loose or cut about 3,000 workers that year at most.
They could therefore technically denounce the projection because of the upward figure of 5,000 people,
particularly based on the company‘s past experiences. Schwendler‘s and O‘Brien‘s comments on these
issues are in Pete Bowles, ―Layoffs Expected at Grumman,‖ Newsday, circa January 1971, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect
A-10, NGHC.
Officially, Grumman claimed ―about 1,800 workers will be laid off during the year…and 1,200
more will not be replaced as they retire, quit, or die.‖ These numbers match the New York Times
estimates that 30% to 40% of Grumman‘s layoffs occurred through natural attrition. The Times also noted
that the loss of 3,000 employees throughout the year would eventually bring the company‘s workforce
down to about 23,000 Grummanites by year‘s end. For this quote, see Joseph M. Treen, ―Layoffs at
Grumman: Others to Suffer, Too,‖ unidentified newspaper, circa January 1971, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10,
NGHC. According to Stephen Karakas, Grumman‘s Assistant to the Vice President for Public Affairs, the
1971 cuts would come from ―all major operating areas of the company.‖ Karakas also figured that the
estimated ―natural attrition‖ rates for the upcoming year would fall well within the figures from 1970
when somewhere between 30% to 40% of the company‘s RIFs occurred due to deaths, resignations, or
retirements. For Karakas‘s statements, see Richard Meserole, ―Grumman to Trim 3,000 from Work Force
in ‘71,‖ unidentified newspaper, circa January 1971, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC. For additional
information about the 3,000 person downsizing, see and compare Roy R. Silver, ―Lower Defense
Spending Leads Grumman to Cut Work Force,‖ New York Times, 27 January 1971, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A10, NGHC; and ―3 Bleak Years of Layoffs on LI,‖ Newsday, 10 August 1972, 2-2, ―Grumman Aircraft
Corp. Clippings Undated—1973,‖ LISI.
384
economy getting tighter, a brown bag lunch seemed the sensible thing to do.183 The
downsizing had also begun to affect even those workers unaffiliated with the aerospace
industry; Krajewski had to let two waitresses go due to poor sales. 184
Summing up the effects of the downsizing, an anonymous aerospace engineer
dining at a local Grumman hangout opined, ―This is a big bread-and-butter outfit,
Grumman. . . . Think how many TV sets, cars, washing machines, dryers it buys every
year. You have a layoff like this, it affects everybody on Long Island.‖ 185 Suffolk County
Labor Commissioner Lou V. Tempera agreed with this assessment and quantified it
further, noting that every Grummanite let go affected three more Long Islanders, mostly
those who worked in the service industries. Tempera worried that ―when you take the
total picture, it becomes quite serious.‖186
As in the past, even though everyone had endured the effects of the layoffs in one
manner or another, some felt more threatened by the 1971 downsizing than others.
Although engineers had faced the chopping block in the past, many of them had made
decent enough salaries to have enough cash on-hand to survive while they searched for
just the right job. Many blue-collar workers, however, had to make ends meet from
paycheck to paycheck. Tool and die maker Robert Mauro confided that ―we‘re all very
worried. I have three daughters at home. I have to make mortgage payments. I can‘t
183
Joseph M. Treen, ―Layoffs at Grumman: Others to Suffer, Too,‖ unidentified newspaper, circa
184
Ibid.
185
Ibid.
186
Ibid.
385
afford to lose my job.‖187 Still, as the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics revealed, all levels of
Long Island aerospace workers faced difficult times. In January 1971, for the first time in
twelve years, New York City and its environs went through the largest reduction of jobs in
the country, down by almost 34,000 positions. White-collar professionals, particularly
draftsmen and advanced level engineers, had the hardest time finding work. 188 At the time,
Grumman‘s payroll stood at approximately 27,500 employees, down some 8,500, or about
24% over the previous two years.189
Meanwhile the federal government insisted that aerospace and defense industries
maintain readiness. By early January, NASA had begun to renew its concerns about
keeping the most experienced Grummanites in place to support the Apollo missions.
NASA‘s Apollo Program Director Dr. Rocco Petrone asked the company to assure him
that its best people would remain in place in spite of the firm‘s downsizing. 190 After all,
Grumman‘s engineers had been instrumental in helping the Apollo 13 astronauts return
safely to Earth during their nearly tragic mission nine months earlier. Although Grumman
told NASA it would try to remain as flexible as possible in the reassignment and
187
Ibid.
188
―It Doesn‘t Pay to Be Skilled, Study Reveals,‖ circa January 1971, unidentified newspaper,
―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
189
Joseph M. Treen, ―Layoffs at Grumman: Others to Suffer, Too,‖ unidentified newspaper, circa
January 1971, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC. Some papers placed Grumman‘s workforce as low as about
26,000 around this time. For more details, see Roy R. Silver, ―Lower Defense Spending Leads Grumman
to Cut Work Force,‖ New York Times, 27 January 1971, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC.
190
Petrone‘s January 4 directive is mentioned in a February 1971 letter from Owen G. Morris,
Manager for the Lunar Module Apollo Spacecraft Program to Joseph Gavin. See Correspondence, Owen
G. Morris to Joseph G. Gavin, NASA, Manned Spacecraft Center, Houston, TX, 2 February 1971, ―NASA
Letters—1970-1973,‖ Box ―Joe Gavin LM 2,‖ Sect A-91, NGHC.
386
downsizing of key personnel, it also noted that it might have to reassign people to meet
the company‘s needs. But the firm‘s management maintained that it could recall any key
people needed at ―a moment‘s notice for consultation or for participation during the
Apollo missions as required.‖191 Still, by the beginning of March, NASA still had serious
reservations that Grumman had found an acceptable solution. The space agency wanted to
know about all of the company‘s potential personnel reassignments in advance. To
illustrate the point, in at least one case, when Grumman transferred an employee away
from the LM program on very short notice, some NASA managers became so upset that
they demanded that the company start creating a reassignment schedule to reflect
projected personnel changes. In short, the space agency wanted a say in who would
replace whom, or at the very least, it wanted an opportunity to weigh in on the subject.192
January 1971 also saw the issue of age discrimination against older aerospace
workers become very prevalent in the Northeast. The New York Times had already
focused a great deal of attention on the issue in the New England region while describing
the problems of RIFed scientists and electrical engineers in Boston‘s high-tech area in the
fall of 1970. Now, a few months later, Long Islanders and others got an inkling of how the
issue might be affecting Grummanites thanks to an article in their local paper. On January
27, Newsday reporter Drew Fetherston related that the Bethpage firm had come under
some heavy criticism from some of its older employees for continuing to advertise for new
college graduates in the engineering, math, and business administration fields. In one
191
Ibid.
192
Ibid.
387
month‘s time, Grumman had advertised in approximately twenty college newspapers to try
to entice prospective grads to interview with the company. The ad stressed that ―Wide
open is the word at Grumman,‖ suggested that many job opportunities awaited new
graduates at the firm. It also tried to pull new white-collar workers in with promises that
―the white sand beaches of the Atlantic are 12 minutes away…the famed sailing reach of
Long Island Sound, an 11-mile drive.‖193
From the company‘s perspective, the continued improvement of the firm
necessitated recruitment. Grumman‘s employment director Dan O‘Brien noted that the
company had always tried to look toward the future and bring ―new blood‖ into the
firm.194 He thought new talent would help assure that the company remained strong.
Unlike most aerospace firms, which had stopped recruiting altogether during the
recession, Grumman continued to pursue new college grads despite such difficult
economic times. O‘Brien wanted to hire approximately one hundred new graduates in
1971, despite the fact that the company claimed it had to cut the payroll by some three
thousand workers that same year. Three years earlier, when the company axed some three
hundred employees, it had also hired six hundred colleague graduates; then, in 1969, with
approximately 3,560 workers laid off, the firm hired some three hundred new grads. Most
of the new hires went into the central engineering pool; in other words, the firm had not
hired them to work on a specific program—really the only generally accepted reason
193
Drew Fetherston, ―For Grumman, It‘s New Blood Despite Cuts,‖ Newsday, 27 January 1971,
―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC.
194
Ibid.
388
among most other aerospace firms to bring on new engineers during the downsizing—but
rather to bring them on board and then figure out where their talents and interests lay. 195
Many older Grumman engineers, who had faced multiple RIFs, did not like the
company‘s ―new blood‖ strategy; they believed that the firm used that argument to cover
up the real fact that it wanted to get rid of older engineers because they cost the firm so
much more than younger professionals fresh out of college.196 On average, new engineers
cost the company about $180 a week, whereas more experienced engineers might earn as
much as $240 a week.197 Although employment director Dan O‘Brien had heard such
charges, he insisted, ―We haven‘t gotten that type of feedback directly. The man who is
laid off knows that it isn‘t because of his performance, and he knows that a new man
couldn‘t handle his job. You can rationalize this in many ways: the fact is simply that the
money is not coming in.‖198
Grumman executives worried about the criticism. The day after Fetherston‘s ―New
Blood‖ article appeared, an important interoffice memo circulated among Grumman‘s
higher offices that noted that the subject of recruiting new engineers during a time of
heavy layoffs was a ―topic of great concern and evaluation.‖199 Several months earlier,
Grumman managers had concluded that they had to ―significantly‖ scale down their
195
Ibid.
196
Ibid.
197
Ibid.
198
Ibid.
199
―Recruitment of New Engineers,‖ J. J. Bussolini to G. M. Skurla, Grumman Aerospace
Corporation Inter Office Memorandum, ENG-SADIR-71-2M, 28 January 1971, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10,
NGHC.
389
recruiting activities to ―absolute minimum levels.‖200 At the same time, they felt that they
had to maintain at least some ―token level of recruiting to insure continuity of ‗new blood‘
and to protect a rather sizeable investment that we have made in the local colleges and
universities.‖201 As early as October 1970, they had decided to cut recruiting back from
the regular fifty schools to about twenty and to limit their hiring of new engineering
students to ―no more than‖ forty-five total.202
Grumman‘s Engineering Department heads were even moved to draw up a pointby-point rebuttal of Newsday‘s charges. They argued that from 1966 through 1969,
Grumman‘s college recruiting activities brought in only about 3% to 5% of the
department‘s entire workforce. That number, the department noted, ―was not even
sufficient to cover our natural engineering attrition which was between 7% and 8%.‖203 To
provide some perspective, by 1970 the company had only brought on board fifty-one new
college graduates, which represented only 1% of the engineering staff. In 1971, that
number dropped to twenty-four new hires, which represented only 0.7% of the projected
1971 staff.204 As the Engineering Department‘s upper management noted, those numbers
stood well below their projected natural attrition rate. 205 Consequently, despite O‘Brien‘s
200
Ibid.
201
Ibid.
202
Ibid.
203
In 1968, the company hired 274 new engineers based on college recruiting activities, whereas
in 1969, that number reached 314. See ibid.
204
Ibid.
205
Ibid.
390
Newsday assertions, in 1971 Grumman projected it would only hire twenty-four new
engineers. By way of contrast, in 1970, engineering had lost 103 of its 1969 college
recruitments and only replaced fifty-one.206
Grumman also defended its ―new blood‖ recruitment policy on two more counts.
In a survey of fourteen other major aerospace firms‘ recruiting activities, the company
discovered that only two had abandoned outreach altogether. 207 Grumman‘s Affirmative
Action plan also mandated continuing recruitment. The Engineering Department noted
that ―we are working in conjunction with the Personnel Department in a special effort to
recruit minority group graduates. Our first graduate brought in in 1971 was a well
qualified black engineer with a PhD.‖208
These memos and rebuttals constituted an all-out defense of recruitment. On the
same day that the Engineering Department had generated its memo, a stunning and
embittered letter went out to newspaper columnist Drew Fetherston, the author of the
Newsday article. This unsigned missive, which must have come from a Bethpage resident
with an interest in the plight of older engineers, also went to Grumman‘s Personnel
Manager Dan O‘Brien, as well as Senators Jacob Javits and James L. Buckley. It opened:
―The infusion of fresh blood that you reported is only one aspect of an apparent preference
for youth in the ailing aerospace industry; it is my own impression that the average age of
206
Ibid.
207
Ibid.
208
Ibid.
391
technical staffs has been reduced by the mass layoffs.‖209 The letter exemplified the passion
some felt during these difficult times of downsizing. The author stressed that younger
workers had not paid their dues like the older generation who had suffered through the
Great Depression, World War II, and the postwar recovery. Although Fetherston‘s article
had stressed the economic issues of downsizing—cutting higher salaries and bringing on
new recruits with lower wages—as the driver behind the RIFing of older engineers, the
author insisted that salaries represented only a small part of the issue. The letter noted that
many of the older engineers, who had worked their way up through drafting, clerical, or
technical-level jobs, would have gladly returned to those lower positions, with significant
salary reductions, instead of being laid off, but the company did not give them that
option.210
The letter‘s author observed that ―older employees were bumped to provide a
refuge for youths‖ because they were not vested in a ―pension program.‖211 The letter‘s
most stunning diatribe argued that
such favoritism toward the young is unjust; and in social
terms it is inefficient, since they could more easily find and
adjust to new jobs, enter different fields (if only
temporarily), and consider relocating. Many of the
generation hit hardest by the layoffs had worse difficulties
getting started than present conditions would impess [sic]
on today‘s youths if they were put out to manage as best
they could. The former endured depression, war and
postwar readjustments; but the latter have enjoyed
209
Correspondence, Anonymous to Drew Fetherston, Bethpage, New York, 28 January 1971,
―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-10, NGHC.
210
Ibid.
211
Ibid.
392
continuous prosperity and were mainly exempted from the
career interruption of military service.‖212
In closing, the writer noted that the distinctions being made between the older and
younger generation, particularly as it related to the aerospace industry, represented a
crude ―means of adjusting to a lower level of activity in an industry which ought to feel a
special obligation to avoid disrupting society‘s fabric.‖213
In mid-February 1971, Grumman President Lew Evans addressed the issue of
ageism, as well as a host of other company issues and policies, in an interview with the
New York Times. Evans believed that Grumman‘s payroll would finally stabilize in 1971
at about 24,000, down from 37,100 two years earlier. 214 He acknowledged that the
company had received much criticism for downsizing people in recent years, particularly
older workers, but he argued, it had still tried to maintain its edge by hiring about sixty to
seventy of the nation‘s top engineering graduates each year. Addressing the charges of
ageism, Evans insisted: ―It‘s tough to explain when some people are being let go, but our
figures show that about half of those who leave do so on their own for various
reasons.‖215 Because the firm had to bring in $4 million a day at this time just to keep
212
Ibid.
213
Ibid.
214
Gene Smith, ―Grumman Expects to Stabilize Jobs, Leveling Off at 24,000 in 1971,‖ New
York Times, 13 or 14 February 1971 (mislabeled 14 January 1971), ―Grumman Aircraft Corp. Clippings
Undated—1973,‖ LISI.
215
Ibid.
393
operating, holding the line on expenses was essential to maintaining corporate fiscal
responsibility.216
Despite Evans‘s attempts to spin the situation as positively as possible, the reality
was that unemployment in the region had reached its highest point since Long Island had
started keeping specific unemployment statistics about the area some thirteen years earlier.
In February 1971 Suffolk County‘s unemployment rate had reached 7.9%, whereas in
Nassau County it had hit 6.2%, for a combined rate of 6.9% for all of Long Island.217
Manufacturing, which employed about 20% of Long Island‘s workforce and more than
one-third of its payroll, faced some of the deepest cuts.218 February traditionally
represented the worst month for employment in the region, and in February 1971 over
63,100 Long Islanders were combing the area looking for work, compared to 42,500 the
previous February.219 With Grumman‘s continued layoffs, and another five hundred RIFed
employees at Republic (due to that company‘s participation in the Supersonic Transport
216
Ibid.
217
See and compare Maureen O‘Neill, ―New High in LI Unemployment,‖ Newsday, circa 23
March 1971, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC; Stewart Ain, ―L.I.
Jobless at Record High of 6.9%; 63,100 are Out,‖ Daily News, 23 March 1971, ―unidentified blue
notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC; and Ed Lowe, ―Last Day at Work Ends in
Bitterness,‖ Newsday, circa March 1971, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A61, NGHC.
218
Daniel Kahn, ―Bank Sees Little LI Economic Gain,‖ Newsday, circa March/April 1971,
219
Maureen O‘Neill, ―New High in LI Unemployment,‖ Newsday, circa 23 March 1971,
―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC; and Stewart Ain, ―L.I. Jobless
at Record High of 6.9%; 63,100 are Out,‖ Daily News, 23 March 1971, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖
―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
394
(SST) Program), the situation continued to look grim for Long Islanders.220 Economists
did not offer much hope either. They projected that the region‘s unemployment rate would
continue to remain above 5% for at least another year.221 To provide some perspective,
between 1969 and the beginning of 1971 approximately 45,000 American aerospace
engineers lost their jobs; of those, about 7,500, or one-sixth of them, had worked on Long
Island.222
Former Grummanites and other unemployed aerospace workers faced several
common challenges in their quest for new jobs. Most of the engineers found themselves
―overqualified‖ for any job openings that came up, no matter what the field. The New
220
When the U.S. Senate killed the SST program in late March 1971, Newsday did a feature
article about Tony Abbatello, one of the men at Republic affected by the death of the project. Abbatello, a
tool and die man from Wyandanch, NY, had expected to be laid off after the SST went down to defeat. He
had gotten pink-slipped at least ten different times during his twenty years of work in the defense industry.
Abbatello and many of his former Republic colleagues blamed the loss of the SST ―on politicians,
newspaper editors, environmentalists, big businessmen, the welfare system and a host of other professions,
categories and systems.‖ Speaking about the mood at Republic, Abbatello opined: ―You know, the morale
here is so damned low it‘s crawling. If anyone—like a kid just starting out—if anyone was to ask me
about going into defense work, I‘d tell him to stay the hell away from it. You‘re a pawn in this business.
All the workers in the company are pawns, moved around and hired and fired at the company‘s will.‖
Interestingly, of the 114 workers who had gotten the axe immediately after the end of the SST program,
all were aged 46 to 53.
After collecting all his belongs, Abbatello caught a ride home with his former Republic colleague
Thomas Mulholland of Deer Park, NY. Mulholland noted that he was ―still working. But if six more guys
(on the seniority list) get dropped, I‘ll be out. It‘s pretty bad in there. People inside [the plant] are
disheartened. They don‘t know whether they‘ll be hit tomorrow or not. I expect to get it, myself. It hurts
the work. It hurts everything, here and home with the family.‖ Ironically, Mulholland‘s car had a bummer
sticker on it that read: ―$$T—Keep Long Island Green.‖ For Abbatello‘s and Mulholland‘s stories, see Ed
Lowe, ―Last Day at Work Ends in Bitterness,‖ Newsday, circa March 1971, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖
―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC. On the issue of Republic‘s layoffs in general, see ―3 Bleak
Years of Layoffs on LI,‖ Newsday, 10 August 1972, 2-2, ―Grumman Aircraft Corp. Clippings Undated—
1973,‖ LISI.
221
Daniel Kahn, ―Bank Sees Little LI Economic Gain,‖ Newsday, circa March/April 1971,
222
Lynn Rosellini, ―Laid-Off Engineers Grub for a Living,‖ Newsday, circa January 1971,
395
York Times suggested that although the term ―connotes education, skill and experience,‖
it still became ―the bane of many engineers and scientists on Long Island who have been
thrown out of work and onto the welfare rolls.‖223 The paper noted that ―many highechelon employes [sic] who earned $12,000 a year or more are now flooding a labor
market that cannot absorb them.‖224 ―Overqualified‖ RIFed employees and their
prospective employers both faced a Catch-22 situation. The Times described the
challenge: ―An employe [sic] who takes a lesser job can no longer devote all his time to
seeking employment in his own field. An employer who hires him is fearful that he will
probably leave when a better paying job became available.‖225 Joseph O. Curry, District
Superintendent of the New York State Employment Service, also noted that the term
―overqualified‖ was ―often a polite euphemism for ‗too old.‘‖226
In desperation, many took jobs well below their education and training, because
they feared going on welfare. For most, welfare represented a shameful state on many
levels. They believed it drained the nation of its resources; it made them feel worthless as
individuals, and, perhaps most importantly, in an overwhelmingly male field, welfare
223
Roy R. Silver ―‘Overqualified‘ L.I. Workers on Relief,‖ New York Times, 24 March 1971,
224
Ibid.
225
Ibid. Frank Bianco, a former electrical engineer with Sperry Gyroscope, echoed the New York
Times‘s assessment of the issue of ―overqualification.‖ He had been out of work for more than five months
and had finally given up on trying to recapture an engineering position. The former engineer from
Greenlawn, New York, simply opined: ―It‘s hard for anyone in defense to get any job. People who do the
hiring figure as soon as defense picks up, they will leave again.‖ See Lynn Rosellini, ―Laid-Off Engineers
Grub for a Living,‖ Newsday, circa January 1971, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC.
226
396
undermined their ―manhood.‖ As Lee Filerman, Director of Nassau County‘s Office of
Manpower Development noted about out-of-work engineers: ―They don‘t want to stay
home with the kids because they find it embarrassing. Their wives find it difficult to have
them home all day. They feel their manhood is being threatened. It‘s a devastating
experience.‖227 In essence, most found their plight totally demoralizing.
To avoid such humiliation, many ―overqualified‖ RIFed engineers started turning
to other fields totally unrelated to the aerospace industry. 228 Sal Cavallaro, a former
Grummanite, tried to forget about his previous job as an electrical engineer at the
Bethpage company, but he could not. A college graduate, homeowner, and father,
Cavallaro was embittered by his July 1970 layoff. He had worked for Grumman for more
than four years. After spending twenty-two years of his life as an engineer, he had to take
a job as a janitor. He revealed painfully that he felt ―washed up at 53.‖ ―There‘s no
chance of me getting back into the field now,‖ he insisted.229 ―Even if things pick up,
they‘ll hire the young kids. They‘re finished with us. But I can‘t retire till I‘m 65. So what
do I do for the next 12 years? I sweep floors, right?‖230 Cavallaro concluded, ―I would
never have taken this kind of job, but I was forced into it. There‘s nothing else around. My
wife can‘t get a job either. She‘s been trying all along. So it‘s either this or go on welfare,
227
228
Ibid.
229
Ibid.
230
Ibid.
397
and that‘s too degrading.‖231 Cavallaro‘s new job only paid him $8,000 a year, as opposed
to the $17,000 a year he earned while at Grumman. 232
Newsday published numerous sad accounts in its coverage of this key local issue.
In the story of Edwin Kinkaide, a former Grummanite laid off at age fifty-five, the
newspaper showcased ―the inner feelings of a once-successful but now laid off engineer
who currently is doing laborer‘s work, and the effect the change has had on him and on his
family.‖233 Kinkaide had worked as a chemical engineer at Grumman‘s Calverton facility in
a $17,000 a year position. Forced to try to make ends meet, he took a $125 a week
laborer‘s job (or more than a 60% pay cut) at the Suffolk County golf course in West
Sayville.234 Complicating matters, he had to work particularly hard to prove himself to his
co-workers who believed him incapable of doing menial labor.235 As Newsday poetically
noted, ―Kinkaide‘s 55-year old hands are more accustomed to dealing with paper and
pencils than to handling a shovel. But they are getting tougher, with some pain. And so are
Kinkaide and his family with some pain.‖236
Kinkaide, like many professional men of his generation, did not know what to do if
he was not working. Shaped by the traditional gender roles of the era, many took menial
231
Ibid.
232
Ibid.
233
Ed Lowe, ―He Labors to Keep His Head High,‖ Newsday, undated, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10,
234
Ibid.
235
Ibid.
236
Ibid.
NGHC.
398
jobs in order to continue as wage-earners. Not only did they need to make ends meet, but
they also wanted to feel like productive members of society. They also wanted to feel like
―men,‖ and they definitely wanted to avoid going on the welfare rolls because they saw
that as total failure.237 Kinkaide‘s wife described her husband‘s response to
unemployment:
He goes nuts being home. We both go nuts. There were
times when he was home every day that I‘d go upstairs and
play solitaire while he stayed downstairs. We didn‘t know
what to say to each other. I couldn‘t make him feel better. I
couldn‘t do anything for him. And with the way he felt all
the time, I wouldn‘t have known how to approach him even
if I could have helped. Now, with this job….well, I don‘t
know whether things are better or worse, really. At least
he‘s doing something.238
The adjustment was equally difficult for wives. The former engineer quipped, ―Do you
have any idea what it‘s like to be home every day with a woman who‘s been accustomed
to running a household by herself for 30 years?‖239
Families struggled with the implications of this changed work world. Kinkaide‘s
daughter had a difficult time watching her father doing menial work. While driving past
the golf course one day, she saw him on the job, and, as she put it: ―I knew he was
working there. But I‘d never seen him…you know, working. I pulled over to the side of
237
Notably, Kinkaide also felt that he had family prestige pulling at him. As he confided to the
Newsday reporter, ―my family is an old Sayville family and we‘ve always been associated with some
degree of success. That‘s something that‘s hard to let go. Hard for the whole family, and I think I feel
worse than they do, just imagining how they must feel, if that makes sense.‖ See ibid.
238
Ed Lowe, ―He Labors to Keep His Head High,‖ Newsday, undated, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10,
239
Ibid.
NGHC.
399
the road when I saw a man digging and he looked like my father. I broke down. It just hit
me. Him digging.‖240 Kinkaide had tried to shake off the implications of his situation and
overcompensate in a positive manner, but somehow that seemed to make it more
heartbreaking for his daughter. She related that
It was hard to talk to him. He was overfriendly, over-kind,
trying to make sure that you didn‘t feel uncomfortable or
that you wouldn‘t feel hurt. It was so awkward. And now,
well it does hurt. A man with his potential having to do
something like that. I mean, he‘s my father, and when he got
laid off I figured everything would turn out okay. He always
comes through for us and for himself. It‘s awful. 241
The Kinkaides‘ experience pointed to the strains on hundreds of aerospace industry
families across Long Island.
Less typical perhaps was the fact that, despite all the psychic turmoil that
Kinkaide‘s new labor caused, the family did not really need to worry about money. His
years of work as an aerospace engineer during the height of the Apollo Program had
helped establish a solidly middle-class lifestyle for the family. At the time of his layoff, the
Kinkaides owned their $40,000 home outright and they continued to collect rent three
months out of the year from their Fire Island summer house. Even if they had to dip into
their family savings (which they had planned to use for a European summer vacation) and
sell both their houses, Kinkaide was confident that they could still live comfortably for
240
Kinkaide‘s oldest daughter, Mrs. Susan Hubbard of East Islip, Long Island, recalled the story.
For more details see ibid.
241
Ibid.
400
another ten years. Yet despite their very solid financial situation, Newsday revealed that
―the psychological strain on Kinkaide and his family is ever-present, and obvious.‖242
Newsday concluded that ―even though it did not accomplish much in the way of
easing tension within the family‖ Kinkaide‘s golf course job ―did get him out of the house.
It did keep him out of the state‘s unemployment office in Patchogue, where he had felt
strange and embarrassed. And it did make him and his wife feel a little better.‖243 She
confided: ―We‘re sort of proud that he took the job, but it‘s a funny pride, because he‘s
capable of much more.‖244 Still, regardless of the overall job climate and his personal
struggle, Kinkaide believed his golf course job was only temporary. Another position
commensurate with his real skills would surely open up in the future.245
For some, Frederick ―Fritz‖ J. Thome, a fifty-two-year old former electronics
engineer from Syosset, Long Island, became the iconic image of the troubled state of the
aerospace industry and its future. A thirty-year veteran of the business, Thome had lost his
$12,000 a year position at the Ford Instrument Division of the Sperry Rand Corporation.
After relentlessly trying to find work as an engineer, he decided to start his own business.
Both the New York Times and Newsday prominently featured a photo of him in front of
his new venture, along with a story about the business. Thome operated ―Fritz‘s Hot Dogs
& Soda‖ out of the back of his small pickup truck in the spring and summer months. He
242
Ibid.
243
Ibid.
244
Ibid.
245
Ibid.
401
sold his wares in the main industrial complex on Jericho Turnpike on Long Island. In
addition to vending, he also worked part-time as a sexton at a local church.246
Unlike most unemployed aerospace engineers, Thome seemed quite content with
his change in lifestyle, despite the fact that he made only about $30 a week as a hot dog
vendor.247 He explained that ―my whole attitude changed about work and people and life
itself. I now work only three or four hours a day, rather than 40 hours punching a clock in
a very shaky industry. I‘m completely happy with what I‘m doing now.‖ 248 He liked being
outdoors and being his own boss, not to mention not having to wear a suit or fight rush
hour traffic.249 Thome and his family seemed to adjust as well as could be expected to the
massive change in lifestyle caused by his downsizing. Yet regardless of all the adjustments
they had made because of the ―shaky‖ nature of the aerospace industry, he did not
definitively rule out a ―return to engineering if the opportunity arose.‖ 250 The identity of
being an aerospace engineer seemed hard to totally jettison for most, even after so many
had moved on with their lives.
246
247
248
249
―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC .
250
402
While out-of-work aerospace engineers commonly disdained welfare as the
ultimate disgrace, collecting unemployment insurance was another matter altogether. In
the Long Island area, in the early 1970s, a former aerospace engineer typically received six
months of unemployment insurance if he or she lost his or her job.251 Unlike welfare
payments, which were government funds meant to sustain people who fallen below a
certain income level, unemployment insurance was largely made up of money that
employers had paid into a pool that workers could pull from if they had been laid off or
lost their jobs without cause. Typically former engineers first collected unemployment
insurance (while still searching for a job), then tapped into their savings if needed; in these
ways, they generally avoided going on welfare if at all possible.
The New York Times, for example, detailed the story of a forty-eight-year-old
former mechanical engineer from East Setauket, Long Island, who followed this
unemployment path almost to the letter. After losing his $18,700 a year job in the
aerospace industry, the Georgia Tech graduate started collecting unemployment insurance
payments while still looking for work. To help out, his wife took a part-time job. When
he had been out of work for more than a year, they had to dip into their savings, which
was only three months away from being totally exhausted. He told the newspaper reporter
that he would have gone to extremes to avoid welfare. ―June is the end, and then it‘s sell
the house,‖ the former engineer explained. ‖I didn‘t want to apply for welfare unless it
251
Twenty-six weeks was the normal amount of time for unemployment insurance on Long
Island. See ibid.
403
was forced on me.‖252 Fortunately, he found work as a salesman in the investment
industry.253
Another forty-year old engineer from Syosset, who had earned $29,000 a year
until losing his job, ended up taking a position as an electrician at the rate of $250 a week,
a pay cut of more than 50%. He continued in his new job until a union man replaced him.
Like most former aerospace engineers, he rejected the notion of taking welfare. He
thought it ―disgraceful,‖ but in the end he had no choice.254 The contrast between the
weekly rates that these men accepted to do menial jobs with the average welfare rates on
Long Island underlines how much these men despised the notion of welfare. In March
1971, according to the New York Times, a welfare recipient with a family of four received
$231 a month, plus $180 grant for shelter heating, or $165 for non- heated residences.255
By contrast Kinkaide earned $125 a week in his golf course job and Thome $30 a week
with his hot dog business. Obviously, some of these former engineers decided it was better
to work a job than accept welfare.
By the spring of 1971, the number of former workers on Long Island who received
unemployment benefits and welfare checks had risen dramatically over the past twelve
months. Joseph O. Curry, the District Superintendent of the New York State
Employment Service, revealed that his office had processed more than double the number
252
Ibid.
253
Ibid.
254
Ibid.
255
Ibid.
404
of unemployment claims than that of the previous year. In March 1971 unemployment
claims had increased by more than 13,800 from March 1970—a new record for the
region.256 Welfare rolls saw a similar increase. During 1970 Long Island‘s two counties,
Nassau and Suffolk, had gone through a combined 30.7% increase in welfare recipients,
according to the New York Times.257 Mrs. Adele Eisenstadt, a supervisor at one of
Nassau County‘s New York State Professional Placement Offices, pronounced herself
―surprised at the number and caliber of individuals appearing with welfare forms.‖258
Similarly, District Employment Superintendent Curry opined about the unemployment
situation: ―the force of the economic change is such that people who have escaped the
vicissitudes of the economy are now becoming involved and this includes the middle
class—the guy next door.‖259 For many, a fundamental shift had occurred, a move from
being comfortably middle class to having to find any way to make financial ends meet.260
And, as Curry noted, about reconversion, ―retraining is not the answer. They need jobs.
There is no cure for the lack of a pay check but another pay check.‖ 261
256
Ibid.
257
In January 1970 the two counties had started with a combined 83,815 claims, but by
December that number had reached 109,535. See ibid.
258
Ibid.
259
Ibid.
260
For more on this issue, see Lynn Rosellini, ―Laid-Off Engineers Grub for a Living,‖ Newsday,
circa January 1971, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect A-10, NGHC.
261
405
By the spring of 1971 the recession and downsizing in aerospace and its related
industries had become such a national issue that heartbreaking stories about former
engineers began to appear in the national news on a regular basis. One of the saddest and
most shocking incidents occurred in Silicon Valley. Charles Mallinckrodt Jr., a thirty-fiveyear old out-of-work computer engineer from Palo Alto, California, committed suicide on
the campus of Stanford University. Mallinckrodt killed himself by ingesting half a bottle of
cleaning fluid and placing a plastic bag over his head. Three Stanford University students
found his body beneath a tree, along with ten standard rejection letters from various
companies. Mallinckrodt had grown ―despondent‖ about his inability to secure a job since
he had been laid off the previous year. The local coroner thought it was ―one of the
saddest cases I‘ve ever had to handle.‖262 ―A few years ago the industry literally was
crying for engineers,‖ he observed. ―They were begging young people to train for jobs.
Now you‘ve got thousands and thousands laid off. They can‘t get a job no matter what
their qualifications.‖263
According to Department of Labor statistics, 50,000 to 60,000 engineers,
scientists, and technicians lost their jobs during this period. 264 The crisis of unemployment
among engineers, scientists, and technicians had become so acute by the spring of 1971
that the U.S. Department of Labor and the Department of Housing and Urban
262
―10 Letters: Polite but Deadly,‖ unidentified newspaper, circa 17 March 1971, ―unidentified
blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
263
Someone in Grumman‘s front office had clipped this newspaper story and saved it for future
reference. See ibid.
264
Victor Cohn, ―New Program Will Retrain Aerospace Scientists,‖ Washington Post, 9 March
1971, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
406
Development (HUD) decided to start a reconversion program. This new pilot program
proposed to retrain approximately four to six hundred unemployed engineers to tackle the
problems of health care and pollution. Retraining would occur at five centers around the
country, including MIT and the University of California at Berkeley. The retraining classes
would last thirty days, after which a graduate‘s local community would have to hire the
converted worker so that he or she could put these new skills to use.265 Although the
program seemed small in scope, and its success depended on the cooperation of local
communities, at least it offered some hope to some former aerospace workers. 266
Informal reconversion also took place. One business that hired some former
aerospace workers—the Homeowner‘s Emergency Service (HES)—offered some very
unique services to Long Islanders. The brainchild of Charles A. Koppelman, a Manhattan
music publisher, the company promised to have an experienced handyman any place on
Long Island within ninety minutes to repair anything, from water in the basement to
squirrels in the attic.267 Aerospace workers made up at least 75% of the fifty-man
workforce. Some had lost their jobs in the industry, while others, particularly aerospace
production line workers, wanted an extra job to offset the loss of overtime pay, a thing of
265
Ibid.
266
More assistance for reconversion came from the Senate. On March 8, 1971, for example,
Senators Charles McCurdy Mathias (R-MD) and George McGovern (D-SD) said that they would ―seek to
make defense contractors contribute an eighth of their pre-tax profits to a ‗peace-time transition
commission.‘‖ For more information, see ibid.
267
―…and others tap a household market,‖ Business Week, 27 March 1971, 25-26, ―unidentified
blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
407
the past thanks to the recession.268 Leo Feinstein, a former engineer who had worked as
Grumman‘s plant maintenance manager, became one of the first people the company
hired. He headed up HES maintenance operations. Richard Giering, Grumman‘s former
Computer Division dispatcher, became HES‘s Chief Dispatcher. 269 The ―90-Minute Men‖
earned at least $50 a week, while some received as much as $250 a week. Despite the
recession, HES had more than six hundred Nassau County households subscribing to the
service at the basic membership rate of $40, plus a $10 per hour charge and the cost of
materials.270 Although some former Grummanites had not intended to work as handymen,
HES provided them with employment and a solid salary at a crucial time during the
recession and after their downsizing.
The Aerospace Depression
As many former Grummanites continued to cope with the recession and lack of
work, the Bethpage company reached the end of an era. On June 17, 1971, Grumman‘s
Lunar Module program officially concluded.271 On that date, the last manufactured LM—
the twelfth operational one the firm had produced—left Long Island for Cape Kennedy.272
268
Ibid.
269
Ibid.
270
Ibid.
271
―An Era Ends at Grumman,‖ Newsday, 18 June 1971, ―Grumman Aircraft Corp. Clippings
Undate-1973,‖ LISI.
272
The last LM‘s left Bethpage for the Cape in a ―Super Guppy.‖ Of the 12 LMs Grumman
produced, NASA used approximately half of them for testing or for dress-rehearsals for the lunar
landings. The other six carried the astronauts to the Moon during the Apollo 11, 12, 14, 15, 16 and 17
missions. The one used during the Apollo 13 flight acted as a ―lifeboat‖ and helped save the astronauts
lives during the catastrophic mission. For more details, see ibid.
408
Over seven thousand Grummanites had worked on the spacecraft at the height of the
program‘s production.273 With the shipment of the last LM, the company closed a tooling
warehouse and a small training building in Hicksville, as well as two small offices in
Syosset. No specific layoffs coincided with the shuttering of those facilities. However,
from January 1970 through June 1971, Grumman had closed approximately 326,000
square feet of office and warehouse space, as well as plant facilities. 274 These closings had
a significant cumulative impact on many employees, and the end of the LM program meant
the end of work for many.
By the summer of 1971, although most commentators referred to the downturn in
aerospace as a ―recession,‖ others viewed it in much more drastic terms. The St. Louis
Post Dispatch, for example, on the first day of summer, dubbed the situation ―The
Aerospace Depression.‖275 The newspaper compared its regional contractor McDonnell
Douglas with several firms in California and Seattle and concluded that the industry had
entered a depression.276 At the time, McDonnell had dropped at least a third of its
workforce in the period since its mid-1967 employment high of approximately 43,500.277
273
Ibid.
274
Ibid.
275
―The Aerospace Depression,‖ The St. Louis Post Dispatch, 21 June 1971, Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-
10, NGHC.
276
Interestingly, the newspaper only focused on the St. Louis, southern California, and Seattle
regions in this story. See ibid.
277
The company had pinned its future on the success of the F-15 fighter-bomber, but the plane
had not done well in congressional hearings and faced possible cancelation. See ibid.
409
In one month‘s time in 1969, the firm laid off some six hundred workers.278 One of the
Dispatch‘s most telling profiles observed that the
layoffs have reaching into the ranks of white collar
engineers, most of whom had deluded themselves into
thinking they were immune from the fate of unionized
production workers who have been laid off periodically over
the years, and who continue to bear the brunt of the
employment decline. The engineers are confused and angry
but the truth as recent events have made clear is that no one
is immune and even giant corporations such as Lockheed,
cannot expect to be automatically bailed out by the
Government.279
Engineers who had joined the aerospace industry in the wake of the Sputnik launches of
1957 had joined the sector believing they would have exciting and well-paying jobs for
life, but as they had discovered, the aerospace industry did not live up to this promise of
continuous and rewarding work. Interestingly, the Dispatch asserted that the ―Aerospace
Depression‖ might actually have a positive effect on the nation; the newspaper claimed,
like many experts of the day, that the downturn would force defense contractors to use
their designing and manufacturing skills in other fields and sectors. The newspaper hoped
that the depression would force the U.S. to set aerospace and national defense goals that
were more sensible and legitimate than the out-of-control spending associated with the
Apollo Program and the Vietnam War.280
As debate continued about the severity of the aerospace industry‘s downturn,
Grumman got some good news. At the beginning of July, the firm learned it had secured
278
Ibid.
279
Ibid.
280
Ibid.
410
two new contracts. On one side, Grumman, along with McDonnell Douglas, North
American Rockwell, and Lockheed, had received a four-month extension to continue
working on the design of NASA‘s Space Shuttle. 281 On the other side, the U.S.
Department of Transportation had awarded the Bethpage firm a $3.5 million contract to
build a ―Tracked Air Cushion Research Vehicle,‖ (TACRV). Designed to travel at close to
three hundred miles an hour, the TACRV would provide high-speed ground
transportation. The preliminary test vehicle, slated to premier in March 1972, would run
on electric power and thereby, theoretically, be silent and pollution-free; by the year 2020,
the TACRV would supposedly provide swift travel between New York and Los
Angeles.282 In one sense, the project represented a type of reconversion program, one that
allowed aerospace engineers to use their skills to solve some of society‘s problems, in this
case economical, non-polluting, rapid public transportation. Both the Space Shuttle
contract extension and the TACRV contract helped keep some employees on at Bethpage.
281
Lockheed received a $1.4 million extension, whereas the other three companies each got $2.8
million extensions. Chrysler, one of the original five companies that had secured a preliminary design
contract for the Shuttle in May and June of 1970, did not get an extension and dropped by the wayside at
this time. For more details see ―Transit Jobs Bring Cash to Grumman,‖ Newsday, 2 July 1971,
―Unidentified Blue Notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
282
Ibid; ―Grumman Gets $3.5 Million Job, Wall Street Journal, 1 July 1971, ―Unidentified Blue
Notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC; and ―Looking Ahead,‖ Newsday, 19 April 1972,
48, ―Clippings 1972,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
The TACRV prototype would have to prove itself on a 22-mile track in Pueblo, Colorado. It also
had to hold at least four researchers as passengers. Engineering schematics projected that the vehicle
would measure just over 50 feet long and weigh more than 60,000 pounds Designers hoped that the
program would help people travel quickly between cities and outlying airports. For more details see and
compare ―Grumman Gets $3.5 Million Job, Wall Street Journal, 1 July 1971, ―Unidentified Blue
Notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC; ―Transit Jobs Bring Cash to Grumman,‖
Newsday, 2 July 1971, ―Unidentified Blue Notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC; and
―Mr. Zarkowsky‘s Remarks at the TACRV Unveiling Ceremony, Hangar 3, Plant 4, 1110‖ Grumman
Press Release, 11 April 1972, ―TACRV Information 1971-1975,‖ ―Box 39 TACRV,‖ Sect. A-28, NGHC.
411
Neither program, particularly the TACRV project, created any new jobs on Long Island,
however, at least not immediately.283
In early October 1971, Tom Rozzi, Grumman‘s Vice President and Director of
Security and Personnel Service, announced that the company had completed the last of its
RIFs for the year. Of the 3,500 workers who lost their jobs in 1971, 50% had left due to
―natural attrition‖ factors.284 In other words, the firm only technically had to lay off about
half of the workers because the other half had retired, left for other jobs, moved on for
health reasons, or died.285 Rozzi did stress that if the business climate improved for
aerospace, a lot of RIFed workers might receive recalls from Grumman.286 The company
had a history of calling back formerly RIFed employees if it had new work for them, but
those recalls might come too late for many people, particularly those who had not actually
been Grumman employees, but whose jobs had still been affected by the layoffs.287
Grumman‘s downsizing had already had a profound effect on Long Island—both
its people and its economy—and by the fall of 1971, those effects became widespread. As
the New York Times noted about the company‘s layoffs, ―the jolt is still sending shudders
283
―Transit Jobs Bring Cash to Grumman,‖ Newsday, 2 July 1971, ―Unidentified Blue
Notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
284
―Rozzi views reduction in force, says RIF completed for ‘71,‖ Grumman Plane News, 8
October 1971, NGHC.
285
Ibid.
286
Ibid.
287
David A. Andelman, ―Job Losses at Grumman Send Shivers Through L.I.,‖ New York Times,
21 October 1971, ―Unidentified Blue Notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
412
through Long Island‘s economy.‖288 Grumman‘s internal company figures projected that
for every Grummanite who lost his or her job, another ―4 ½ persons somewhere in the
nation‘s economy lose their jobs—and 2 ½ of these are in Nassau or Suffolk Counties.‖289
With approximately 5,700 Grummanites having lost their positions during the thirteen
months between December 1969 and December 1970, the Times calculated another
14,250 Long Islanders had become unemployed.290 Grumman and its subcontractors made
up about 10% of Long Island‘s total economy; approximately two hundred companies on
Long Island did half of the firm‘s subcontracting work.291 In short, as the area‘s largest
corporation and employer, Grumman‘s downsizing caused havoc for many people beyond
just its own employees.292
Grumman‘s subcontractors felt particularly vulnerable in the fall of 1971 as the
Bethpage company waited to see if it could capture the Space Shuttle contract and
whether Congress would restructure the pricing of the F-14 program so that Grumman
would stop losing money on the program. Most of these smaller businesses‘ actual
existence depended largely on what happened with those projects. Many subcontractors
had to decide, without a lot of data, whether they could afford to keep their doors open.293
288
Ibid.
289
Ibid.
290
Ibid.
291
Ibid.
292
Grumman did not become Long Island‘s largest corporation until 1967. Prior to that time, the
firm basically shared that distinction with Republic and Sperry Gyroscope. See ibid.
293
Ibid.
413
The recession challenged the future innovation and effectiveness of the aerospace industry
because it stunted its growth by dismantling a workforce that would be difficult to
reassemble in a timely and efficient manner. This had been NASA‘s fear when Grumman
had started to downsize; now the problem had trickled down to threaten even the future
effectiveness of subcontractors.
Magnifying the delicacy of the situation with subcontractors, a Long Islander at
one of the smaller shops noted, ―over the years Grumman has been very stable. They‘re
very, very efficient. But if anything happens to the F-14 and Grumman, we‘ll be in really
serious trouble.‖294 According to the New York Times, approximately 10,000
Grummanites worked on the F-14 program, and the aircraft represented a contract valued
at somewhere between $225 million and $250 million in October 1971; it comprised about
one-quarter of the entire company‘s business.295 Nevertheless, the firm did not base its
entire future on the F-14; the company also began ―pouring its heart‖ into the Space
Shuttle design.296 Upper management believed it would secure that contract without any
problem, bringing the company as much as $20 billion and putting up to ten thousand
people to work by the mid-1980s.297 Still, a lot of that work, if it came, was more than a
decade away, which did not offer much solace to the many Grummanites who worried
294
Ibid.
295
In 1970, the F-14 represented approximately one-quarter of Grumman‘s business. If the
aircraft‘s contract remained stable with Grumman, it might bring in as much as $400 million in 1973 if
the Navy ordered another forty-eight of the aircraft. For more on these subjects, see ibid.
296
Ibid.
297
Ibid.
414
whether they would soon receive pink slips, let alone those who had already lost their jobs
and wanted to return to the firm.
As 1971 came to a close, Grummanites received some mixed news about their
future. As had happened several times before, the company announced its projections
about the number of people it would RIF in the new year. Approximately 1,500 to 2,000
employees would face the chopping block in 1972, which would bring the company
payroll down to about 22,200 workers, its lowest number in over eight years. 298 Upper
management still predicted that over 50% of the layoffs would occur because of attrition
due to retirements, resignations, and deaths. 299 The announcement about future layoffs
stung even more because Grumman had just learned that it had lost a $70 million contract
to TRW Systems in California for two high-energy astronomy observatory satellites.300
Fortunately, the loss of these contracts was offset by the news that NASA had given
Grumman a six-month extension on a preliminary Shuttle design agreement.301 The $1.5
million contract extension did not promise immediate employment for the Bethpage firm,
but as a Grumman spokesperson noted, if the company won the final Shuttle competition
it would mean big employment further down the road. 302 Still, for the 1,500 to 2,000
298
Between 1967 and the end of 1971, the company had cut some 12,000 employees. See Chapin
A. Day, ―1,500-2,000 Grumman Jobs in Danger,‖ Newsday, 3 December 1971, ―Unidentified Blue
Notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
299
Ibid.
300
Ibid.
301
Ibid.
302
Ibid.
415
slated to lose their jobs over the next year, the promise of a contract much further in the
future offered little comfort.
1972—The Breaking Point for
Grumman and Grummanites
By mid-winter 1972, the threat of further RIFs pushed Grumman—the company
that had always cultivated a culture of paternalism—to the breaking point. On February 25
Newsday journalist Chapin A. Day published an important article entitled ―The Grumman
Family‖ that revealed just how far the feeling of togetherness had eroded at the Bethpage
firm. The story began: ―It might be called the Grumman Aerospace Corp., but to many of
the giant firm‘s 23,000 employes [sic] Grumman has a feeling of family that inspired
loyalty. For other workers, however, the feeling isn‘t so warm any more. The specter of
layoffs has left some members of the family edgy and uncertain.‖303 Although Day found
that ―few workers agree with the assessment of one worker who said flatly ‗The Grumman
Family is dead,‘‖ 304 Grumman officials were even admitting that the company‘s spirit had
flagged in recent years. Many Grummanites believed that ―layoffs, the firm‘s rapid growth
in the late ‗60s (which brought an influx of employes [sic] from other aerospace
companies) and the appearance of what one company spokesperson calls a ‗new breed‘ of
employe [sic] share the blame.‖305
303
Chapin A. Day, ―The Grumman Family,‖ Newsday, 25 February 1972, 4A,―Layoffs,‖ Sect. A-
10, NGHC.
304
Ibid.
305
Ibid.
416
Downsizing figured prominently in employees‘ conversations about the causes of
low morale. Everyone seemed to focus on whether they would receive the next pink slip,
and as a result workplace efficiency suffered seriously. However, management insisted
that the layoffs did not affect worker output. According to the firm‘s front office, if
anything, the downsizing made those who still had jobs ―work harder.‖ 306 Still, employees
seemed particularly unnerved by the situation and they came to dread the end of each
week. The company usually RIFed workers on Fridays, generally called ―Black Fridays.‖
As one Grummanite described it: ―They start laying off at 2 PM on Friday. The supervisor
walks by your desk, lays his hand on your shoulder. You are asked to go into his office. In
10 minutes, you are walked to your car and that‘s it. A few days severance pay and all the
years you have put into Grumman are gone.‖307
Several old-time Grummanites opined that Grumman‘s family feeling had dwindled
since Jake Swirbul‘s death in 1960. After his passing, and with the increase in defense and
space spending in the mid-1960s, some Grummanites believed that the company had
essentially become an impersonal bureaucracy.308 Lew Evans, the company‘s President and
CEO in the early 1970s, had tried to maintain the culture of paternalism and sense of
family, but some questioned whether he had successfully nurtured that spirit. As Newsday
noted about Swirbul:
306
Ibid.
307
Ibid.
308
Historian Stephen Patnode has also found some Grummanites that felt that the company was
become more of an impersonal bureaucracy during the late 1960s and early 1970s. For more, see Stephen
Raymond Patnode, ―Labor‘s Love Lost: The Influence of Gender, Race, and Class on the Workplace in
Postwar America‖ (Ph.D. diss., Stony Brook University, 2008), 269-271, 286, 297-305, 316 and 331.
417
His engaging personality and accessability [sic] to the
workforce have become legend. ―The man was never above
talking to anyone, whether he was a sweeper or shoveled
coal,‖ one old-timer recalls…. ―Evans [the company‘s
present board chairman], I think would like to consider
himself another Swirbul, but Swirbuls are few and far
between.309
Although Lew Evans was trying his best to carry on the culture of paternalism that
Swirbul had fostered from the Great Depression to the dawn of the Space Age, that sense
of family cohesiveness was seriously unraveling for some workers.
The financial uncertainties of 1972 also seemed to provide an atmosphere that
could help organized labor secure a toehold in Grumman, yet union leaders acknowledged
that they did not have any plans to start a drive on the Bethpage firm. One local union
official noted that ―at present, unionization at Grumman is beyond the budgets and
energies of unions that might want to try it. Part of the problem, he says[,] would be to
overcome ‗the lack of interest shown by the people over there.‘ He says that he receives
‗only about one call a month‘ from Grumman employees [sic]. ‗Seniority is the major
complaint.‘‖310 Despite troubled times and the erosion of some sense of family spirit,
Grummanites still felt that the company had their best interests in mind.
Age discrimination and its accompanying issues became one of the most troubling
subjects for Grumman‘s upper management to address while trying to keep morale high.
Older Grummanites were disgruntled by the way younger workers—the ―new breed‖—
309
Chapin A. Day, ―The Grumman Family,‖ Newsday, 25 February 1972, 5A, ―Layoffs,‖ Sect.
A-10, NGHC.
310
Ibid.
418
replaced them, or at the very least, forced them into lower-level jobs inappropriate to their
skill sets.311 Younger workers‘ attitudes, some managers believed, posed more of a threat
to the company than unions; the ―new breed‖ did not seem to care about creating a culture
of family—money was their driving force. One company spokesperson observed that
―there‘s a real lack of stick-to-itiveness and loyalty in some of the new breed.‖312 He
noted: ―They‘ll demand a $2,000 raise and if they don‘t get it, they‘ll stomp out and go to
work somewhere else.‖313
In short, by early 1972, the company‘s cultural of paternalism had come under fire
from several directions, and for some, the firm had become an unrecognizable
bureaucracy. Nevertheless, many employees valued the fact that the company and its
culture, as one Grummanite related, attempted to provide ―a degree of security in an
insecure industry.‖314 Grumman‘s culture of paternalism had made a qualitative difference
to these employees in this time of uncertainty, but would it stand the test of the economic
uncertainties that the next couple of years would bring?
311
Ibid.
312
Ibid.
313
Ibid.
314
Of the 23,000 Grumman employees at this time, about 10,000 worked directly in production.
The firm had about 280 different job titles during this period, including such positions as ―corporate
officer, laborer, test pilot, vending machine serviceman, bricklayer, librarian, bombardier-navigator,
engineer (38 varieties), cook, machinist and writer.‖ Twenty-two percent of the workforce acted in a
supervisory capacity, while 28% held professional or administrative positions, and another 30% served in
an engineering, technical or manufacturing job. Another 13% held office and clerical positions, while
another 7% comprised service workers. For the quotes and more details, see ibid.
419
Conclusion
In early 1967, the aerospace industry was already starting to lay off its Apollo
workforce, almost two and a half years before the first men landed on the Moon. A
sizeable labor force had been necessary to design and build the vehicles that had made the
Apollo Program possible, but once the hardware was in place, and aerospace companies
did not have any more projects in line, many employees lost their jobs. By the beginning of
1972, with two more Apollo missions still in the queue, the aerospace industry was in
crisis. One third of the workers who had been in the industry in 1969 had been laid off by
1972, and others faced an uncertain future in the sector. No company seemed to be able to
escape the relentless downsizing, not even Grumman, which had always prided itself in it
paternalistic care for its employees.
Many aerospace workers had joined Grumman believing it was a highly stable firm
with great growth potential. They had thought that they would remain Grummanites for
years to come and get to work on a variety of far reaching projects. But when many of
them received pink slips during the industry‘s downsizing of the late 1960s and early
1970s, they learned quickly how short their dreams could fall. During Grumman‘s first
significant layoffs of the Space Age in early 1967, the firm had tried to control the public‘s
perceptions about the downsizing, but as the demobilization intensified, there was little it
could do to lessen the blows. By April of 1971, the company had lost one-third of its
workers within three years, a drop of over 12,000 employees. The cuts had seriously
affected other Long Islanders; for every Grummanite downsized, another 2.5 Long
Islanders lost their jobs. But the layoffs were not just a regional problem, they were also a
national one. Some began to call the crisis an ―aerospace depression.‖
420
Many RIFed Grummanites and other aerospace workers had their very identities
shaken by the downsizing experience. It made them question their self-worth as
professionals, family providers, and as people. Although some had enough personal
savings to wait to see if the job market would improve, many others had to scramble to
find work. And that was a challenging task. Most found that there were ―overqualified‖
for jobs and had to take positions outside the aerospace industry. Others had to take up
menial work that paid them significantly less than they would have received if they had just
gone on welfare. But they considered welfare a major disgrace and some even depleted
their life savings in order to keep from going on the dole. Many of the men, who had been
primary providers, also had to deal with the fact that their wives were now suddenly the
main breadwinners of the family. This breakdown of traditional gender roles led many
men to question their ―manliness.‖ Others, sadly, committed suicide. All in all, for the
downsized aerospace workers of the late 1960s and early 1970s, the RIF‘s had made them
contemplate their roles as workers, providers, and as men and women. For many
Grummanites, it had also forced them to consider the limits of paternalism and how
companies change over time. By the end of 1971, Grummanites seemed to have only one
major hope for arresting the firm‘s downsizing and saving employees‘ jobs; and that hope
lay in the company‘s ability to win the Space Shuttle contract.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE TOMCAT AND THE SHUTTLE: GRUMMAN
RETOOLS FOR A CHANGED ECONOMY
The year 1972 represented Grumman‘s last period of hope for turning things
around; it would be a pivotal time for the firm and its employees. Several of the
company‘s key programs would end in 1972; both the OAO and LM programs would
conclude with last successful launches in the latter half of the year.1 For all intents and
purposes, Grumman needed to secure a major new contract if it wanted to remain in the
space business. To understand Grumman‘s future from 1972 onward, it is important to
look at the history of the firm‘s involvement with two key programs—the F-14 ―Tomcat‖
Fighter-Jet and the Space Shuttle. Although the programs differed greatly, the company‘s
work on them had an intertwining cause and effect that helped determine the fate of
Grummanites, and, by extension, Long Island. Grumman officials had believed that the
two projects would secure the future of the firm, but, as Grummanites would discover,
such thoughts were a vain hope.2
1
The last OAO would launch and begin orbiting the Earth in August and the LM program would
conclude during the Apollo 17 mission in December.
2
For a discussion of how much Grummanites looked to the F-14 and Shuttle programs to help
the company‘s future growth, see William Butler, ―Layoffs in Hundreds,‖ Sunday News, 30 July 1972,
―Space Shuttle Correspondence; Grumman Info; Misc; Rockwell Info; Release,‖ ―Box #12 Space Shuttle;
Newsclippings; Misc.,‖ Sect A-98, Northrop Grumman History Center, Bethpage, NY, (hereinafter cited
as NGHC).
421
422
Grumman and the F-14 ―Tomcat‖
The F-14 ―Tomcat‖ Fighter-Jet was a supersonic, twin-engine, two-seat, variableswept wing aircraft. It was the Navy‘s next-generation air superiority fighter and longrange interceptor of the early 1970s. The Tomcat incorporated the lessons U.S. airmen
had learned during combat against Russian-made MiGs during the Vietnam War.3 When
Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara took over the Department of Defense (DoD) in
early 1961, he tried to cut expenses and find joint service solutions for various weaponry.
He had planned that the Air Force and Navy would share the TFX (Tactical Fighter
Experimental) aircraft, but the same design did not fully adapt properly for either service.
The Navy pushed for its own fighter-jet, which became the Tomcat.4 Grumman won the
F-14 contract on January 14, 1969.5 It was the company‘s first new naval aircraft contract
in over fourteen years.6 The firm, which had always been one of the Navy‘s major
suppliers of planes, had lost ground with the seafaring service in the 1960s, but that
seemed to change with the new Tomcat agreement. The F-14 promised to keep
Grumman‘s plants running for many years.
3
For a full discussion of the history of the F-14, see Richard Thruelsen, The Grumman Story
(New York, NY: Praeger Publishers, 1976), 362-374; and George M. Skurla and William H. Gregory,
Inside the Iron Works: How Grumman‘s Glory Days Faded (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2004),
generally.
4
For a full discussion of the history of the TFX program, see, generally, Robert J. Art, The TFX
Decision: McNamara and the Military (New York, NY: Little, Brown, and Company, 1968).
5
―F-14A ‗Tomcat‖ Air Superiority Fighter,‖ 19 January 1972, ―F-14 Info Margiota 1/20/72,‖
Folder, ―Box F-14 Collection of Letters and Documents Ref F-14 and Government Officials—Early
1970s,‖ Sec A-51, NGHC.
6
423
Grummanites and other Long Islanders looked to the F-14 as a major boon for the
area that would provide some much needed prosperity in an ever-shrinking aerospace
industry market filled with uncertainty. As work began on the first F-14 prototypes in
early 1970, the Long Island Press characterized the importance of the new aircraft to
Grummanites and Long Island:
It is difficult to underestimate the impact of Grumman‘s
$2.5 billion F-14 project as it reverberates throughout the
Long Island economy…. The Navy jet fighter plane
contracts will steer more than a billion dollars in wages and
some $30 million in property taxes into Queens, Nassau and
Suffolk during the next eight years…. The overall effect is
like a shot in the arm to the island‘s economy, reaching into
the retailer‘s cash register and helping the homeowner pay
the burgeoning tax bills.7
Grumman itself projected that it would subcontract with some 320 firms on Long Island
and in Queens, to the tune of approximately $32.8 million a year.8 Furthermore, area
business leaders and politicians were ―keenly aware of the impact of the F-14 on the
island‘s economy.‖9 As John Woog, the legislative counsel to the Long Island Association
for Commerce and Industry, opined, the Tomcat ―is the largest single space or defense
contract on Long Island. I would think it would account for the health and well-being of
12 to 15 per cent [sic] of the manufacturing work force in Nassau and Suffolk.‖10
7
Robert Weddle, ―F-14: A $2.5 Billion Bonanza for LI Economy,‖ Long Island Press, 3 February
1970, ―Grumman Aircraft Corp. Clippings Undate-1973,‖ Long Island Studies Institute, Hofstra
University, Hempstead, NY (hereinafter cited as LISI).
8
Ibid.
9
Ibid.
10
Woog is quoted in ibid.
424
Grumman President Llewellyn ―Lew‖ J. Evans was the driving force behind
Grumman‘s push to secure the F-14 contract; he viewed the company‘s ability to book the
job as essential to the firm‘s survival.11 Evans had served with distinction in the Army Air
Corps during World War II and then obtained a law degree at Harvard. In 1947, he began
working for the Navy‘s Bureau of Aeronautics (BuAer) in Washington, DC, as an
assistant counsel.12 But given Grumman‘s ―familial relationship‖ with the Navy,
particularly the BuAer, it did not take long for someone at the company—namely Jake
Swirbul—to recognize his talents and hire him away from the government. 13 Evans joined
Grumman in 1951 as part of the company‘s legal department. Although a lawyer by trade,
his real talents lay in his marketing and customer relations skills. By 1960, Evans had risen
to the position of Grumman‘s Vice President of Business Development.14 This new
division of the company consisted mainly of lawyers, salesmen, and former military
11
For more on this issue, see Grumman‘s Comptroller Carl Palladino‘s comments on the subject
in Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 108.
12
Evans had received his undergraduate degree from the University of California in 1942 before
going into the Army Air Corps. For more biographical information about Evans, see Richard Thruelsen,
The Grumman Story, 324.
13
Political Scientist Randolph Paul Kucera notes that Grumman had developed a ―familial
relationship‖ with the Navy during World War II. In his 1973 dissertation, Kucera goes on to argue that
during the postwar era, Grumman‘s management cultivated a self-image of being an ―adjunct‖ to the
Navy‘s Bureau of Aeronautics (BuAer). The company felt that its ―major responsibility was that of
insuring the Navy pilots flew the best aircraft available and that those aircraft met Navy mission needs."
Furthermore, Grumman came to identify itself as "part of a 'Navy Barn'." For more details, see Randolph
Paul Kucera, ―Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation and its ‗Familial‘ Relationship with the
United States Navy‖ (Ph.D. diss., Syracuse University, 1973), 125. For the story of Swirbul hiring Evans
and mentoring him, see Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 43-46.
14
Thruelsen, The Grumman Story, 323-324.
425
officers and focused on capturing new business and keeping customers happy. 15 One
Grumman manager remembered, ―Before Evans came aboard, Grumman was an internal
company, concentrated on engineering and product development.‖16 But after Evans
began marketing Grumman, the firm became much more open to its customers and really
listened to their needs. It no longer focused simply on the logic and mechanics of
engineering.17
Evans had much in common with his mentor Jake Swirbul; both men were
extremely personable and thrived in their relationships with employees and contractors.18
As Richard Thruelsen, a historian of Grumman, has noted: ―Both men were effervescent,
articulate and constantly aware of the human factor in business and production; both
brought an apparently inexhaustible supply of energy to their business lives; both had a
sharp eye for new business opportunities and the drive to go after them at full steam.‖ 19
One Grummanite remembered that Evans possessed a particularly ―uplifting‖ and
―buoyant spirit‖ that always ―made work enjoyable.‖20 Evans‘s joie de vive, coupled with
his ability to connect with contractors, made him indispensible to the firm, so much so,
that, in 1966, when company founder Leroy Grumman retired, Evans became President of
15
Thomas J. Kelly, Moon Lander: How We Developed the Apollo Lunar Module (Washington,
DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2001), 148.
16
17
Ibid.
18
19
20
426
the firm.21 Then, in July 1969, when the company expanded to become a holding company
under the rubric of The Grumman Corporation, Evans became the new entity‘s President,
as well as the Chairman of the Board and the Chief Executive Officer of the Grumman
Aerospace Company (the main subgroup of the whole corporation, which encompassed
approximately 95% of the firm‘s assets and handled all air and space matters).22 Overall,
Evans became Grumman‘s key Washington operator who networked extremely well with
politicians, the Navy, and NASA. He was dapper, gregarious, and well-liked.23
Because of his magnetic personality and ability to connect with people, Evans had
been instrumental in helping Grumman secure the Lunar Module contract in November
1962.24 Tom Kelly, the firm‘s Chief Engineer on the LM Program, remembered that it
was Evans who ―recognized that Grumman had cultural differences with NASA‖ and who
helped the company win the contract by getting the Space Agency‘s leadership to
understand that the LM program would not play ―second fiddle to the navy within
Grumman‖—one of NASA‘s major fears given that Grumman was perceived by many to
21
Leroy ―Roy‖ Randle Grumman, a founding member of the Grumman Aircraft Engineering
Company, retired in 1966 because of a serious eye ailment. He gave up his position as Chairman of the
Board, but retained a seat on the board. Grumman‘s retirement left only two of the firm‘s original four
founding members active in the day-to-day management of the company. Clint Towl, who had been the
company‘s President since Jake Swirbul‘s death in June 1960, gave that position to Evans and took over
Roy Grumman‘s old spot as Chairman of the Board. Bill Schwendler, remained the Chairman of the
Executive Committee, while Albert Loening, the other semi-retired member of the quartet, retained a seat
on the board. For more on this management transition, see Thruelsen, The Grumman Story, 323.
22
Ibid., 322-323; and William Mathewson, ―Corporate Shift Voted at Grumman,‖ Suffolk Sun,
20 May 1969, ―Grumman Aerospace‖ Folder, Sect A-10, NGHC.
23
Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 44-45.
24
427
be an adjunct of the seafaring service.25 Then, in 1969, Evans‘s naval connections and his
instinctual ability to understand and work with politicians and contractors enabled him to
win the F-14 contract for Grumman.26 Evans had wanted to secure the Tomcat program
at all costs because he saw it as absolutely necessary to Grumman‘s future. But in his rush
to lock down the deal, he failed to negotiate aggressively with the Navy, much to the
Bethpage manufacturer‘s ultimate disadvantage; the terms of the final agreement would
put the company in a very precarious situation.27
As negotiated, the F-14 contract was a ―fixed-price‖ agreement that embraced the
―total procurement package concept,‖ a new type of contract developed during Robert
McNamara‘s tenure as Secretary of Defense. The whole idea was based on McNamara‘s
strict focus on cost-cutting and efficiency. 28 This type of agreement forced contractors to
sign a fixed price, multi-year deal up front, which projected an aircraft‘s total cost from
prototype through final delivery. Traditionally, customers ordered and purchased aircraft
in lots that contained a certain number of planes. After the production of each lot, the
customer and the contractor would renegotiate the price per plane for each new
order/lot.29 The F-14 total procurement contract, however, forced Grumman to agree to
the price of the full production run and all lots up front, with some minor adjustments for
25
26
Thruelsen, The Grumman Story, 324; and Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 42.
27
28
29
Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 61; and Kelly, Moon Lander, 258.
428
inflation calculated into the agreement. The DoD believed this type of contract was the
best way to make companies project their costs properly and not waste government
money by renegotiating a contract for each new grouping of aircraft. 30 Grumman‘s F-14
manager George Skurla recalled that the original agreement called for the company to
produce eight F-14s a month (a normal and reasonable rate at the time), or ninety-six a
year, for a total of up to 463 aircraft. 31 On the surface, the fixed-price contract should
have worked for Grumman, if the cost projections the company had made were correct
and inflation had remained predictable. When Grumman signed the agreement on March 2,
1969, however, few could have anticipated the depth and seriousness of the recession of
the early 1970s.32
Grumman relied mainly on ―a survey of national economic trends over the previous
four or five years‖ to figure its profits and anticipate the future inflation rate at
approximately 3%.33 Such studies did not anticipate the upcoming economic problems that
30
31
Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 55 and 61.
32
Because of the problems that the F-14 contract would cause it was ―one of the last totalpackage, procurement-type contracts issued by the Department of Defense.‖ For more on this issue, see
―Financial Background,‖ ―Grumman Advance Payment, May 31, 1974‖ Folder, ―Box F-14 Collection of
Letters and Documents Ref F-14 and Government Officials—Early 1970s,‖ Sec A-51, NGHC.
Another problem with the F-14‘s ―variable quantity lot requirement‖ stemmed from the fact that
the Navy could technically order as few or as many planes as it wanted. As George Skurla explained, that
requirement caused major problems because ―the unit price differential between the normal and half
production rates was so low that it invited the budgeteers to cut the numbers of airplanes being procured.
As they got to the point where they could take advantage of that contract clause they did just that. The
discussion went like this: ‗How much does the price go up if we only buy half as many?‘ ‗Well, it only
costs another few percentage points.‘ ‗Oh, well, then let‘s do it, it won‘t break the contract.‖ See Skurla
and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 56.
33
Thruelsen, The Grumman Story, 364. Most sources say that Grumman calculated a 3%
inflation rate, while at least one cites 2%. For the 3 to 3.5 rates, see Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron
Works, 108; George L. Daelemans, Jr., Survey/Questionnaire, 31 January 2000, in the author‘s
429
would occur over the next few years. While some Grummanites hesitated to commit to the
contract under those conditions, others, like Evans, kept pushing for the deal. Historian
Richard Thruelsen has observed that even though some were ―not happy about the
financial risks involved in the contract… how many options do you have on a competitive
multibillion-dollar contract which will transform you . . . and will keep your plants and
your employees busy for more than a decade?‖34 Grummanite Eugene Coll, a draftsman
and design specialist who worked on the LM, put it more simply: ―Grumman was ‗forced‘
into a fixed contract on the F-14A because of dwindling contracts to keep our employees
on the job.‖35
Raphael Mur, a Grumman lawyer who worked on the details of the original F-14
contract with Lew Evans, remembered that Evans coveted the F-14 program so much that
he essentially allowed the DoD to dictate the terms of the agreement. Mur recalled the
negotiations: ―Talk about stupidity. I don‘t like to talk ill of the dead, but Lew Evans
comes up with what seemed to be a bright idea, as the archetypal super salesman. Though
he was a lawyer, and a good lawyer, here he was the antithesis of a lawyer. All the things
one would have anticipated as a lawyer he just chucked them all aside.‖36 Unfortunately
possession; and Thruelsen, The Grumman Story, 368. Tom Kelly cites a 2% rate originally, see Kelly,
Moon Lander, 258. Some Grummanites felt that the company‘s managers had been a bit naïve about the
inflation rate aspect of the contract. Henry Pallmeyer, a structural designer engineer on the LM and the
Shuttle, for example, thought that Grumman managers were ―like babes in the woods‖ for not taking
inflation fully into account. See Henry L. Pallmeyer, Survey/Questionnaire, 21 February 2000, in the
author‘s possession; and Raymond Sala, Survey/Questionnaire, 24 November 1999, in the author‘s
possession.
34
35
Eugene J. Coll, Survey/Questionnaire, 27 January 2000, in the author‘s possession.
36
430
for Grumman, Evans‘s approach allowed the DoD to know the lengths to which
Grumman would go to secure an agreement, and the Navy knew a good deal when it saw
one.37 As unconventional—or even irresponsible—as Evans‘s tactics appeared, he
sincerely believed that he was doing the best thing for the company. Carl Palladino, a
Grumman Comptroller, for example, said that Evans was totally convinced that the F-14
was ―the only ball game in town,‖ a make-or-break deal.38 Palladino remembered Evans
arguing that ―Grumman had to win this or be out of the fighter game forever—he was
absolutely convinced Grumman was going to make money on the project.‖39
By early 1971, Grumman‘s miscalculations in the F-14 contract began to cause
major financial concerns. Inflation had risen considerably in the two years since Grumman
had signed the F-14 agreement, due to the escalation of the Vietnam War, increased
unemployment, and several other economic factors. The total rate of inflation over that
period had more than doubled—a significant increase in such a short amount of time. 40
Some in Grumman‘s upper management had grown so concerned that at the end of
March, Bill Zarkowsky, the President of the Grumman Aerospace Company, the firm‘s
main subdivision, wrote the Navy. Although Zarkowsky‘s letter helped Grumman begin a
37
Ibid.
38
Ibid., 108.
39
Palladino added: ―Lew was in denial, not trying to mislead anyone.‖ For this quote, see ibid.
For more on this issue, also see ibid., 110-111.
40
The inflation rate rose from roughly 3% in 1969 to somewhere between 8% to 10% by the first
part of 1971 depending on the sources one consults. For more on this issue, see and compare Thruelsen,
The Grumman Story, 1976, 368; Kelly, Moon Lander, 258; Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works,
108; and the ―Historical Inflation Data Calculator,‖ accessed 24 December 2010,
http://inflationdata.com/inflation/Inflation_Calculators/Inflation_Calculator.asp.
431
dialogue with the seafaring service about the situation, the Navy rejected a total reworking
of the F-14 agreement; the Navy knew it had a good deal and it wanted to keep it. 41 As
John Bierwirth, who would eventually become The Grumman Corporation‘s President,
remembered about the situation: ―It was hard to convince the Navy that there was a
problem.‖42 Unfortunately for Grumman, inflation would only continue to rise over the
next few years.
By 1972, the Navy had ordered the fourth lot of F-14s. By this time, however,
even Evans recognized that the company could not continue to honor the F-14 agreement
and remain in business much longer. In 1969, each aircraft had cost $8 million, but by
1972, that price had risen to $10 million per unit, or a 25% increase.43 The company
calculated that it had lost approximately $65 million on the first four lots of F-14s; if
Grumman failed to negotiate a new contract, it stood to lose roughly another $135 million
on the planes in Lot 5 should the Navy choose to exercise its order option. 44 In January
1972, Evans wrote the Navy and explained that Grumman could not, and would not,
produce any more F-14s beyond the aircraft already ordered in Lot 4 without a serious
restructuring of the contract. The letter served to fuel the already heated discussions going
41
42
John C. Bierwirth, Survey/Questionnaire, 31 May 2000, in the author‘s possession.
43
David A. Andelman, ―Troubled Grumman Sees F-14 as Its Key Problem,‖ New York Times,
28 August 1972, ―Unidentified Blue Notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
44
Thruelsen, The Grumman Story, 370. Newsday, Long Island‘s leading newspaper, calculated
that the company would only lose $105 million if it had to deliver the forty-eight planes planned for Lot 5.
For more on this issue, see Joseph M. Treen, ―Could LI Survive If Grumman Went?,‖ Newsday, 23 April
1972, ―Grumman Aircraft Corp. Clippings Undated-1973,‖ LISI.
432
on between the Navy and Grumman. Shortly thereafter, Evans suffered a heart attack, and
although he would recover and continue as Grumman‘s President, the incident revealed
the serious stress that some of the company‘s upper management felt as a result of the F14 debacle.45 At that time, more than nine-thousand Grummanites, or approximately 40%
of the company‘s employees, worked on the Tomcat.46
By April, the F-14 situation had reached a crisis point. One reporter characterized
the Tomcat‘s contract renegotiations as a ―three-cornered battle‖ between Grumman, the
Pentagon, and Congress.47 On April 17, Clinton Towl, the Grumman Corporation‘s CEO
and Chairman of the Board, appeared before a subcommittee of the Senate Armed Service
Committee and delivered a statement that would become known as the infamous ―close
the doors‖ speech. Towl tried to be as frank as possible during the hearing, contending
that if the Navy placed an order for the forty-eight planes that comprised Lot 5, then:
―We‘ll close the doors. We‘ll have to. We can‘t proceed.‖48 He also told the subcommittee
45
46
―F-14A ‗Tomcat‖ Air Superiority Fighter,‖ 19 January 1972, ―F-14 Info Margiota 1/20/72,‖
Folder, , ―Box F-14 Collection of Letters and Documents Ref F-14 and Government Officials—Early
1970s,‖ Sec A-51, NGHC. For estimates on the number of Grumman employees at this time—which stood
somewhere between 21,700 to 23,000 workers—see and compare ―F-14 Fighter: Navy Indicates Desire for
More Planes,‖ Congressional Quarterly, 31 March 1973, 732, ―Duane Yorke—1973 (JBR)‖ Folder, ―Box
F-14 Collection of Letters and Documents Ref F-14 and Government Officials—Early 1970s,‖ Sec A-51,
NGHC; and Colleen Sullivan, ―Employes [sic] at Grumman Hopeful,‖ Newsday, 19 April, 1972,
―Clippings 1972,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
47
William Butler, ―Grumman See Layoffs in Hundreds,‖ Sunday News, 30 July 1972, ―Space
Shuttle Correspondence; Grumman Info; Misc; Rockwell Info; Release,‖ ―Box #12 Space Shuttle;
Newsclippings; Misc.,‖ Sect A-98, NGHC.
48
Towl appeared specifically before the Senate Tactical Air Power Subcommittee. See
―Financial Background,‖ ―Grumman Advance Payment, May 31, 1974‖ Folder, ―Box F-14 Collection of
Letters and Documents Ref F-14 and Government Officials—Early 1970s,‖ Sec A-51, NGHC; Richard L.
Madden, ―Grumman Insists It Needs Fund Rise to Build 48 F-14‘s,‖ New York Times, 18 April 1972,
―Clippings 1972,‖ Folder, ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC; and ―Grumman Claims that
433
that because of inflation and the inflexibility of the fixed price contract, Grumman would
lose about $2.2 million on each F-14 going forward.49 And, as if the company did not have
enough problems, the Bankers Trust Company of New York (Grumman‘s main creditor
since the firm‘s inception some forty years earlier) planned to cut off the company‘s line of
credit in a few weeks.50 Obviously, from Towl‘s perspective, Grumman could not continue
to operate under such financial hardship.51
While some saw Towl‘s testimony as an outright belligerent threat, others believed
that ―he was simply stating an unwelcome reality.‖52 Although most Grummanites viewed
Towl‘s actions as a heroic attempt to save the company, many Americans started to view
the company negatively because of the news coverage coming out of the hearings.53 As
Engineer Tom Kelly recalled, Towl‘s appearance provoked ―a prolonged daily barrage of
Building More F14s at Old Prices Would Force Closing of Unit,‖ Wall Street Journal, 18 April 1972,
―Clippings 1972,‖ Folder, ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
49
Towl also clarified that the increase in the F-14‘s price had not come from ―overruns, technical
snags or deficient contractor performance,‖ but simply from a rise in inflation. For more on his testimony,
see Richard L. Madden, ―Grumman Insists It Needs Fund Rise to Build 48 F-14‘s,‖ New York Times, 18
April 1972, ―Clippings 1972,‖ Folder, ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
50
―Financial Background,‖ ―Grumman Advance Payment, May 31, 1974‖ Folder, ―Box F-14
Collection of Letters and Documents Ref F-14 and Government Officials—Early 1970s,‖ Sec A-51,
NGHC; Richard L. Madden, ―Grumman Insists It Needs Fund Rise to Build 48 F-14‘s,‖ New York Times,
18 April 1972, ―Clippings 1972,‖ Folder, ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC; ―Grumman Claims
that Building More F14s at Old Prices Would Force Closing of Unit,‖ Wall Street Journal, 18 April 1972,
―Clippings 1972,‖ Folder, ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC; and Skurla and Gregory, Inside the
Iron Works, 109.
51
Richard L. Madden, ―Grumman Insists It Needs Fund Rise to Build 48 F-14‘s,‖ New York
Times, 18 April 1972, ―Clippings 1972,‖ Folder, ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC..
52
53
On Grummanites‘ heroic view of Towl, see Walter K. Muench, Survey/Questionnaire, 14
August 2000, in the author‘s possession.
434
negative publicity for Grumman. The company was vilified as a greedy, bloated contractor
seeking a government bailout to obtain excessive profits.‖54 Because 1972 was an election
year, the government planned to hang tough on the renegotiation of the F-14 contract.55
With Grumman caught in this dire situation, some Long Islanders started to dread
the worst, especially because Grumman was the only major aerospace manufacturer left on
Long Island. Many predicted that if the Bethpage firm went under it would cause havoc.
Suffolk County‘s Labor Commissioner Lou V. Tempera noted: ―I‘m having problems with
unemployment that are almost impossible now. But if we compounded that with the loss
of 20,000 jobs at Grumman… I don‘t even want to think about it.‖56 Despite such fears,
most Grummanites believed that the Navy would have to make some adjustments to the
agreement and thereby keep the company‘s doors open. After all, as Phillip Male, a
machinist and thirty-two-year veteran of the company, noted, the Navy had gotten a lot of
quality products from Grumman over the years and it seemed logical that they would
make some concessions.57
Still, by the time of Grumman‘s annual shareholder‘s meeting in May, the company
had decided to make some unilateral fiscal changes in an effort to stop the firm‘s monetary
bleeding, just in case the Navy forced it to produce the aircraft in Lot 5 at the price
originally agreed upon. In one of Grumman‘s largest aircraft hangers, Clinton Towl
54
55
Thruelsen, The Grumman Story, 362-371; and ibid., 259.
56
Joseph M. Treen, ―Could LI Survive If Grumman Went?,‖ Newsday, 23 April 1972,
―Grumman Aircraft Corp. Clippings Undated-1973,‖ LISI.
57
Ibid.
435
informed more than a thousand shareholders that the company would not pay any
dividends to stockholders for the first time in Grumman‘s history.58 When pressed about
the future of dividends, Towl replied that he thought it would be ―imprudent‖ to discuss
the matter while the F-14 contract remained so unsettled.59 Overall, the announcement
seemed to serve two purposes—one very apparent, and one more subtle. On one hand, it
was an obvious move to try to save money and thereby help the company become more
fiscally sound. But on the other hand, it was also a slightly veiled attempt to signal to
NASA that Grumman knew how to manage itself responsibly. Towl also told shareholders
that ―a very substantial part of Grumman‘s future lies in our success over the next several
months in winning NASA‘s current space shuttle competition.‖60 The shareholders‘
meeting took place on May 16, 1972, only a few days after Grumman had submitted its
bid for the main Space Shuttle contract.61 In 1969, many Grummanites had looked to the
58
Some believed that one of the reasons the Board of Directors rescinded dividend payouts to
shareholders was because the Navy and the DoD had promised the firm a $20 million short-term loan as
long as Grumman agreed to forgo dividends. The military apparently intended the loan to help the
company through the funding problems involved with the F-14 issues. For more information on this issue,
see and compare ―Grumman‘s Net Drops Sharply,‖ New York Times, 10 August 1972, ―unidentified blue
notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC; Muriel O‘Donnell, ―Grumman Corp: New Govt
Loan,‖ Long Island Commerical Review, 11 August 1972, Vol 19, # 220, Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A61, NGHC.
59
The quote is from Chapin, A. Day, ―Grumman‘s Board Votes No Dividend,‖ Newsday, 17 May
1972, ―Unidentified Blue Notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC. For additional
information about the issue of dividends, see S. Murray Krameisen, Survey/Questionnaire, 22 November
1999, in the author‘s possession.
60
Chapin, A. Day, ―Grumman‘s Board Votes No Dividend,‖ Newsday, 17 May 1972,
―Unidentified Blue Notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
61
For information about the date of the Shareholder‘s Meeting, see Chapin, A. Day,
―Grumman‘s Board Votes No Dividend,‖ Newsday, 17 May 1972, ―Unidentified Blue Notebook,‖ ―Box 5
Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC. In regards to the date that Grumman submitted its Shuttle proposal,
historian Josh Stoff cites Grumman‘s final proposal as ―Request for Space Shuttle Program,‖ Grumman
436
F-14 contract as the way to secure the firm‘s future; now, in 1972, it was the Space
Shuttle contract that was the key to Grumman‘s future. But how much of a problem
would the Tomcat cause for the firm as it tried to secure the Shuttle Program? The F-14
debacle would provide the context for Grumman‘s bid to build the Space Shuttle.
Grumman and the Space Shuttle
Grumman‘s push to win the Space Shuttle contract, and its ultimate failure to
secure it, had a profound impact on the company, its workers, and its community; one
cannot underestimate the event‘s significance. The firm‘s loss of the contract had a
devastating psychological effect on Grummanites and other Long Islanders. The company
had put its best engineers in charge of developing a sound design for the construction and
implementation of the Shuttle, and, according to many contemporary aerospace insiders,
the firm seemed to be the leading company that would most likely capture the contract.
Many experts agreed that Grumman appeared to have the technical design edge in the
Space Shuttle contract competition; after all, the firm had designed and delivered the
highly successful LM, as well as multiple types of aircraft for the Navy. Grummanites
believed they had a good chance of securing the project, and the firm consequently pinned
its hopes and the future of the company on bringing the job home to Bethpage.
When NASA and other aerospace industry engineers began concept designs for the
vehicle in early 1969, the Space Agency did not invite Grumman to participate in the
Aerospace Corporation, 9 Volumes, Response to NASA RFP# BC421-67-2-40P, May 12, 1972, NASA
#72-74.‖ See Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program,
1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 57 and 77, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98,
NGHC.
437
development of the program. Nevertheless, the company decided to forge ahead with its
own internally funded designs for the Shuttle from the very beginning. In essence,
Grumman was a dark horse in the contractor competition for the program and struggled to
gain recognition as a legitimate Shuttle engineering firm throughout the vehicle‘s entire
design process. As Aerospace historian Josh Stoff described the company‘s involvement:
Grumman narrowed down the wide field of design choices
and selected the one vehicle which they hoped would win
them the contract. Grummanites had faith, in themselves and
their work, which bordered on fanaticism. They also had
faith until the very end that they would win the Shuttle
contract. That was one of the major reasons why they kept
plugging away so hard. The three years of frequently
imposed design changes were an engineering nightmare, but
it would all be worth it if they won the contract.62
Stoff also eloquently summarized Grummanites‘ hopes, dreams, and dedication to the
program:
one should keep in mind the painstaking process that
Grumman went through. Hundreds of people literally
devoted years of their lives to the Shuttle program. If they
won the contract, it would mean billions of dollars, jobs and
prestige for the company. If they lost, it could mean their
jobs and possible economic disaster for the company, for
there were no other space contracts on the horizon to save
this one.63
Grumman gambled on the Space Shuttle contract as the salvation of its future in
aerospace.
62
Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program,
1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 3, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC.
63
Ibid., 4
438
In 1969, NASA was still considering several projects for the future of the space
program; many of its leaders were still caught in the mindset of what space historian
Dwayne A. Day calls the ―Von Braun Paradigm.‖ Essentially, Day argues that NASA
leaders had internalized the large human space flight projects that Wernher von Braun,
Willy Ley, and other space travel advocates had presented in early 1950s popular
culture.64 In other words, many NASA officials were still trying to fulfill von Braun‘s main
goals by finding a way to build not only the Space Shuttle, but also a space station, as well
as plan for an eventual human mission to Mars.65 Upon closer examination and
consideration, however, NASA officials came to realize that budgetary constraints would
not allow the agency to sustain all of those programs. By the end of 1969, NASA had
decided to concentrate all of its energies on developing the Space Shuttle program. 66
64
For Day‘s exploration of the ―Von Braun Paradigm,‖ see Dwayne A. Day, ―The Von Braun
Paradigm,‖ Space Times (November-December 1994): 12-15; and Dwayne A. Day, ―Paradigm Lost,‖
Space Policy 11 (August 1995): 153-159. Other scholars have explored and expanded on Day‘s ideas in
Roger D. Launius, Space Stations: Base Camps to the Stars (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution
Press), 2002, 26-27; Roger D. Launius and Howard E. McCurdy, Robots in Space: Technology, Evolution,
and Interplanetary Travel (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008), 64-65; and Michael J.
Neufeld, ―The ‗Von Braun Paradigm‘ and NASA‘s Long-Term Planning for Human Spaceflight,‖ in
Steven Dick, ed., NASA‘s First 50 Years—Historical Perspectives (Washington, DC: NASA SP-20104704, 2010), 325-347.
65
Von Braun originally envisioned a distinct series of steps for human space flight, which he
detailed in the Collier‘s articles. Engineers would build the Space Shuttle first, which would allow
humans to construct a permanent space station in the Earth‘s orbit. The Space Station would then become
a base from which to launch a moon mission and establish a lunar colony. A manned mission to Mars was
the ultimate step in von Braun‘s vision. Obviously, the Apollo Program took some of these steps out of
order, but NASA still wanted to accomplish as many of these goals as possible. For more details, see
Chapter One.
66
Throughout 1969, NASA officials were still considering the possibility of developing the Space
Station. In fact, the project actually received more emphasis in the planning process. By early 1970,
however, they knew that it, and a human mission to Mars, stood far off in the future, if at all. For more
details, see T. A. Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision: NASA‘s Search for a Reusable Space
Vehicle (Washington, DC: NASA SP-4221, 1999), 223, 230, 288-289.
439
Engineers and human spaceflight advocates of the day believed that the Shuttle would
create low-cost, reliable, and routinized access to space. 67
The first design studies for the Space Shuttle began in the winter of 1969. On
January 31, NASA gave four companies—General Dynamics, Lockheed, McDonnellDouglas, and North American Rockwell—contracts to participate in the ―Phase A‖
feasibility study of the Shuttle.68 The project, officially referred to as the ILRV (Integrated
Launch and Re-entry Vehicle) study, did not clearly define the whole Shuttle design, but
rather, set out a preliminary impression of their engineering and logistical aims.69 The
companies had nine months, until September 1969, to submit their work.70 Notably, the
Space Agency had not invited Grumman to participate. Historian Josh Stoff has
speculated that ―NASA believed that Grumman was so heavily involved in the Lunar
Module program that they would not wish them to take on this additional burden.‖71
67
Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 245-255.
68
Of the contractors, General Dynamics and Lockheed reported to Marshall Space Flight Center,
while McDonnell-Douglas worked with the Langley Research Center, and North American Rockwell dealt
with the Manned Spacecraft Center. While T. A. Heppenheimer states the contracts were $300,000 a
piece, Joshua Stoff notes they were $500,000 each. For more on this issue, see and compare ibid., 222 and
255; and Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program,
69
70
Lockheed‘s Phase A design suggested a two-stage, fully reusable, shuttle. It was the first
serious such attempt at a fully reusable design for the vehicle. Others had just assumed that some parts of
the Shuttle would be disposable. See Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 331.
71
440
Grumman had no such qualms, however; although the company was not invited to
participate, it began its own Space Shuttle effort.72
In mid-February 1970, NASA requested bids for the Phase B studies of the Space
Shuttle, to clearly define the vehicle.73 The studies would focus on two-stage Shuttle
designs and were expected to last eleven months at $8 million per study, and again NASA
passed over Grumman.74 According to Dale Myers, NASA Associate Administrator for
Manned Space Flight, the goal of Phase B was ―to refine configuration concepts and
establish the technical and economic feasibility of proceeding with a fully reusable
system.‖75 Even though Grumman had not been selected to participate in the studies, the
72
Ibid., 7. Other evidence of Grumman‘s own in-house study—which it looks like the company
planned to submit to NASA sometime in late September or early October—includes R. Fox to R. Kline,
―Earth to Earth Orbital Shuttle Study, SSP-80-8, 18 August 1969, ―Future Projects—Space Program,‖
Vertical File, Cradle of Aviation Museum, East Garden City, NY (hereinafter cited as CAM). The
company‘s in-house newspaper, Grumman Plane News also contains a story about the study. See ―Going
for Space Shuttle,‖ 1 December 1969, Grumman Plane News, ―Space Shuttle Papers, Articles,‖ Box 12
―Space Shuttle Newsclippings, Misc,‖ Sect A-98, NGHC.
73
Joshua Stoff claims the RFP went out on February 18, whereas T. A. Heppenheimer cites
February 20. See and compare, Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space
Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 10, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖
Sect. A-98, NGHC; and Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 226-227.
Technically, Phase B had two main proposals for study, one for the two-stage, fully reusable
vehicle, and the other for the Space Shuttle‘s Main Engine (SSME). Three companies—Rocketdyne,
Aerojet General, and Pratt & Whitney—got the SSME contracts at $6 million apiece. See Heppenheimer,
The Space Shuttle Decision, 255 and 266.
74
Due to the complexity of the Space Shuttle project, several contractors teamed-up in the early
1970s on some of the Shuttle studies. For the two stage concepts, Lockheed designed an orbiter and
teamed with Boeing, which worked on the boosters. On another design, NAR and General Dynamics
came together, and on still another, McDonnell Douglas would team-up with Martin Marietta. For more
on these pairings, see Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 224, and 226-227. For a more general
view of the Phase B competition, see Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman
Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 10, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space
Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC.
75
Dale D. Myers to J. G. Gavin, Jr., 2 September 1970, ―NASA Correspondence,‖ ―Joe Gavin
LM2,‖ Sect. A-91, NGHC.
441
firm continued its own internally funded design work on the project. At the time,
Grumman was working with six different configurations, which it narrowed to two
different vehicle styles (known as ―Designs 518 and 532‖), which it put forth in an
unsolicited Phase B proposal. NASA agreed to accept the study for consideration as part
of the competition, despite the fact that Grumman was not an official participant.76
Grumman informed the Space Agency that it intended to refine the two concepts into a
single design approach.77
NASA was still involved in the process of deciding the Phase B contracts in April
1970 when the Apollo 13 disaster struck. In the midst of the crisis, Grummanite R. J.
Edwards suggested that the company capitalize on the life-threatening situation that
occurred during the Apollo 13 flight to stress the vital role that Grumman‘s LM was
playing in saving astronauts‘ lives; he believed it would help the company gain support for
its Shuttle bid. Edwards sent the following telegram to company President Lew Evans,
Vice President Joe Gavin, and a few other Grumman managers:
A great wave of pro sentiment is evident, re: Role being
played by LM on Apollo 13. It is apparent on Radio, T.V.
papers and man on the street. It is growing stronger every
hour.
Assuming that our three boys make the last leg of
the journey to safety, and depending on whether GAC
marketing strategy on the Space Shuttle would allow such a
gambit—we are in a position for a real coup in newspaper
advertisement.
76
1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 10-11, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98,
NGHC.
77
Ibid., 12-13.
442
Underlying message of the ad should relate our role
as builder of the life saving Lunar Module with our desire to
build an equally excellent Space Shuttle. Two proven
themes that could be used include: ―Bring em back alive;‖
It‘s ugly, but it gets you there.‖ We might even strike a deal
with VW to share costs of ad using latter slogan.
Would recommend one day full page ad in
Washington Post, Houston Journal, N.Y. Times, and L.A.
Times as a minimum.78
Regardless of Edwards‘s suggestion, Grumman again found itself shut out of the
final Phase B awards. On May 12, 1970, NASA selected North American Rockwell and
McDonnell-Douglas as the winners of the Phase B definition studies.79 Grummanites were
stunned. Although a company spokesman simply described the situation as ―a
disappointment,‖ many of Grumman‘s more than five-thousand Space Division employees
were bitter, especially given all the recent praise Grumman had received for shepherding
the Apollo 13 astronauts safely back to Earth in the LM. 80 ―You bring them back and this
is what you get,‖ one worker exclaimed.81 As Newsday observed the day after the Phase B
award announcement, ―NASA offered no explanation of why Grumman was not picked. It
78
R. J. Edward to L. J. Evans, J. G. Gavin, L. Mead, and N. MacKinnon, 16 April 1970,
telegram, ―Apollo 13: Congratulatory—Messages,‖ Untitled Box, Sect A-68, NNGHC.
79
According to T. A. Heppenheimer, the two firms had won $2.9 million apiece the year before
to study the feasibility of the Space Station. NASA considered the two companies clearly a cut above the
rest of the other aerospace manufacturers when it came to space vehicle design. Their two-stage design
studies, which would propose fully-reusable orbiters and which were originally slated at $8 million each,
would eventual rise to approximately $10.8 million a piece by the end of the studies. For much more on
these issues, see. Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 255, 266, 274-289 and 332. For additional
information on the awarding of the Phase B contracts, see Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never
Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 13, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖
―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC.
80
The company spokesman is quoted in Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The
Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 13, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9
Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC.
81
The Grumman worker is quoted in ibid., 13.
443
said the two factors considered by the NASA source selection board were the companies‘
technical presentations and business managements.‖82
A week later, on May 20, Evans weighed in on the situation, arguing for the
company to continue its Shuttle studies. He wrote NASA Administrator Thomas Paine,
Without in any way intending to be derogatory, I‘m sure
you also know that we believe the shuttle requirements as
defined in the recent Phase B statement of work are
somewhat confining and appear to exclude the study of
some promising alternative approaches. Specifically, the
funded efforts now underway with McDonnell-Douglas and
North American Rockwell could result in studies thoroughly
responsive to the statement of work but with conclusions
which may be significantly out of line with fiscal realities a
year from now. This would require additional study prior to
requesting a Phase C go-ahead from Congress.83
Evans also cited a personal letter he had received from Wernher von Braun, which stated
it was vital that ―we do not overlook any other approaches to the space shuttle that might
be promising.‖84 In essence, Evans was trying to make sure Grumman made it into the
Phase C studies by arguing that NASA should keep all viable design options in play. He
also hinted that the Phase B winners‘ plans and designs were too expensive and
unrealistic.85
82
Newsday is quoted in ibid., 14.
83
L. J. Evans to Thomas O. Paine, 20 May 1970, ―J. G. Gavin Ltrs. 1970,‖ Untitled Box, Sect A68, NGHC.
84
85
Ibid.
For a somewhat different interpretation of Evans‘s actions toward NASA, which seem to paint
the chairman as more impassioned about these issues, see Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision,
264-265.
444
Others besides Evans lobbied for Grumman to continue working on the Shuttle
design program, albeit in a somewhat subtler fashion. The Long Island Daily News, for
example, wrote on May 23:
Has Long Island—which built the lunar module that
brought the Apollo 13 astronauts back safely to earth—been
cut out of the space business? There was gloom in some
quarters as the Grumman Aerospace Corp. was passed over
earlier this month for a study contract to design a space
shuttle for the National Aeronautics and Space
Administration.
The company had not given up hope of gaining a
significant role in the space shuttle program. Grumman had
been passed over for the initial study of the Lunar Module
idea, but, on its own, came up with the best design and won
that contract.86
By June, pro-Grumman allies had exerted enough influence on NASA that the
Space Agency included the company in further Shuttle studies. As historian Josh Stoff has
noted, some ―minority groups‖ within NASA had pushed for ―alternative approaches to
the shuttle design,‖ and on June 11, the Space Agency awarded Grumman, as well as
Boeing and Lockheed, ―Phase A Follow On studies worth $ 4 Million each.‖87On June 24,
86
87
Joshua Stoff found no evidence about whether Grumman applied pressure to secure the
contract beyond Lew Evans‘s letter. While Stoff contends that all three companies received $4 million
apiece, T. A. Heppenheimer claims only Grumman received that amount, while Lockheed and Chrysler,
only received $1million each. Heppenheimer also notes that Grumman‘s and Lockheed‘s studies were
particularly cost-effective for NASA. Both focused on partially-reusable configurations—which given
NASA and the Office of Management and Budget‘s (OMB) disagreement over funding for the Shuttle (the
OMB wanted to drastically cut the Shuttle‘s budget), seemed like a sound investment. With Grumman‘s
expendable tank design, the orbiter could be much smaller, which brought the overall cost of the vehicle
down considerably. Notably, the ―Phase-A Follow-Up Studies‖ also included some economic analyses.
The Aerospace Corporation received funding to focus on payload and launch costs (at $1.6 million), while
Lockheed dealt with payload effects (at $399,000), and Mathematica did cost-benefit analysis (at
$400,000). For more on these issues, see and compare Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were:
The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 14, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box
#9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC; and Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 267 and 335-337.
445
Evans received a formal letter from Dale Myers, NASA‘s Associate Administrator for
Manned Space Flight, announcing that Grumman had been selected to participate in the
―Alternate Space Shuttle Concepts Contract.‖88
From a technical standpoint, the Phase A Follow-On Studies, or ―The Alternative
Studies,‖ were meant (according to Dale Myers), to offer ―a basis for validation of the
economics of the systems being examined in the Phase B studies and… an improved
understanding of potential alternative concepts from an economic and feasibility
standpoint.‖89 The Alternative Studies ―were not intended to examine the alternative
concepts to the depth or breadth required in a Phase B study.‖90 Fortunately for
Grumman, Myers argued, ―if it ultimately becomes evident that we should proceed with a
configuration significantly different from those which are currently under Phase B study,
additional effort will be required prior to proceeding into final system design.‖91
Grumman made the most of this new opportunity; it strove to put forward the best
possible proposal. While the company definitely wanted to become the sole primary
contractor for the vehicle, it also teamed up with the Boeing Corporation to get help with
88
Joseph G. Gavin, Jr., to Dale D. Myers, 16 July 1970, ―NASA Correspondence,‖ Box ―Joe
Gavin LM2,‖ Sect. A-91, NGHC.
89
Dale D. Myers to J. G. Gavin, Jr., 2 September 1970, ―NASA Correspondence,‖ Box ―Joe
90
Ibid.
91
Ibid.
446
some issues related to the Shuttle‘s booster.92 The Bethpage firm awarded Boeing (the
makers of the Apollo Saturn V‘s main rocket booster) a $1.8 million contract to study the
challenges and help it round out its proposal.93 On July 9 Grumman turned the new study
in to NASA.94 Some space agency personal were so interested in what the Bethpage
company was doing that they visited Grumman the following week, to give their ―verbal
approval of the plan and study scope.‖95
At about the same time that Grumman was working on the proposal with Boeing,
Joe Gavin wrote to NASA Associate Administrator for Manned Spaceflight Dale Myers to
try to pressure him to officially include Grumman in future Shuttle studies. Gavin made it
perfectly clear that the company wanted to compete for the final Shuttle contract. He
detailed the ways Grumman had felt slighted by NASA: it had not been allowed to submit
a structural test proposal to support its concepts thus far; and it had received limited
NASA funding for its Alternative Concept study, compared to the funds Phase B
competition winners had received. Nevertheless, Gavin stressed that his firm was
committed to continuing to study and determine ―low cost options for the Space
Transportation System.‖96 He closed his letter by practically begging the Space Agency to
92
Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 265; and Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that
Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 29, ―Space Shuttle
Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC.
93
Joseph G. Gavin, Jr., to Dale D. Myers, 16 July 1970, ―NASA Correspondence,‖ Box ―Joe
94
Ibid.
95
Ibid.
96
Ibid.
447
allow Grumman to participate in Shuttle testing: ―I believe that we can propose a testing
program which will serve the NASA shuttle program in an outstanding fashion by taking
advantage of proven Grumman facilities and competence. I would like to ask that you add
our participation to the shuttle testing program. I am sure that this broadening of the test
base in this time period will be a significant advantage to NASA and the program.‖97
Although Grumman had not received official word from NASA by mid-summer,
many Grummanites felt confident about their work and energized by the prospect of
continuing on the program. A July 1970 article in the company‘s newspaper reported the
positive and upbeat atmosphere at the Bethpage firm:
The pace at the Grumman Space Center in Bethpage is
fast—and getting faster—as engineering teams apply their
space-age experience and inventiveness to the Space Shuttle
Phase A Study. ―We‘re determined to win, and so are our
competitors,‖ Tom Kelly, Deputy Director of the Space
Shuttle Program, said the other day. ―It‘s an extremely
competitive situation, but Grumman is highly qualified, and
we‘ve got the best team in the business working on this.‖
Noting that the Shuttle is the next manned space
effort visible on the horizon, Kelly pointed out the
importance, in dollars and jobs, of being able to continue on
into the next two phases of the Space Shuttle Program; a
year of advanced design work, followed by the hardware.
―We‘re aiming at Big, New business, something in the order
of Two LM programs in the next two years,‖ Kelly said. 98
NASA‘s continued tacit encouragement had essentially created in Grumman an
unfunded team of consultants who improved the Shuttle‘s design concept. Late in the
97
98
Ibid.
Stoff quotes the Grumman Plane News article in Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never
448
summer, Gavin received a reply to his mid-July correspondence to Dale Myers that gave
him some hope that his company would be permitted to compete for the primary Shuttle
contract. Myers informed Gavin that NASA might hold an open competition to determine
additional testing efforts not covered by the Phase B contractors; that decision would be
finalized near the end of September.99 He noted that, ―These comments, which I hope will
help clarify our intent on your Phase A effort, are not intended in any way to downgrade
the significance of the study which you are performing.‖100 Historian Josh Stoff‘s
assessment of Grumman‘s continued participation in the Shuttle developmental program
states:
Grumman was selected so that no promising concepts
would be overlooked and in order to develop novel
approaches to help solve the costing dilemma. As it turned
out, Grumman played a major role in cutting the
development costs and in re-shaping shuttle design. From
the Grumman/Boeing team came a sterling influence on the
whole concept, affecting not only the smaller contract
studies but also the design philosophies of both Rockwell
and McDonnell-Douglas. The results were major program
changes and eventually the Shuttle was transformed into a
very different vehicle from the one considered at the outset
of Phase B.101
By the end of 1970, several high-ranking NASA officials had visited Bethpage, and had
indicated that they were, according to Stoff, ―impressed by the project.‖ Some of these
visitors included Dr. George Low, Acting Administrator for NASA; Dr. Kurt Debus,
99
Dale D. Myers to J. G. Gavin, Jr., 2 September 1970, ―NASA Correspondence,‖ Box ―Joe
100
101
Ibid.
449
Director of the Kennedy Space Center; and Neil Armstrong, former Apollo 11 Astronaut
and then Deputy Associate Administrator for Aeronautics at the time.102
Jobs and the Politics of the Space Shuttle
By the beginning of 1971, despite the fact that NASA was closing in on a single
set of design characteristics, the future of the Space Shuttle remained an uncertainty;
President Richard Nixon had still not signed off on the program. 103 With the Vietnam War
102
Ibid., 23. As T. A. Heppenheimer relates, when Grumman began its ―Alternative A‖ studies,
it was considering 29 different designs in three different categories: ―two-stage fully reusable, reusable
orbiter with expendable booster, and reusable orbiter with expendable propellant tankage.‖ In an effort to
investigate all of these alternatives properly, the company actually supplemented NASA‘s funding of the
studies with some of its own money; it figured correctly that the ―Alternative A‖ designs would play an
important role in the Shuttle‘s final design. Grumman‘s Manager of the project, Lawrence Mead, favored
the two-stage fully reusable vehicle overall, but he knew it would cost too much so he tried to balance
designs with cost effectiveness. Eventually, the company decided to go with an expendable-tank version of
the Shuttle. NASA liked the design and told Grumman to continue its studies by comparing its vehicle
with the fully-reusable versions engineered by other companies. This developmental path allowed
designers to whittle the Shuttle‘s size and weight down considerably—a major key to the Shuttle‘s
development, particularly in regards to the overall cost. Heppenheimer notes that Grumman‘s $1.85
billion projected peak funding level for the Shuttle ―was a long way from OMB‘s requirement of $1
billion. Nevertheless, it was $350 million closer to this goal than the fully-reusable design. Moreover, in a
brilliant example of having one‘s cake and eating it, Grumman proposed that the expendable tankage
would actually reduce the cost per flight.‖ In sum, while Grumman‘s partially expendable design was
expensive, it was still the best all-around concept NASA had at the time given all of the major design
factors. For more on these issues, see Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 337-338 and 341.
103
On January 19 and 20, 1971, NASA and DoD officials meet in Williamsburg, VA, ―to
determine a single set of design characteristics for the space shuttle.‖ The DoD wanted the vehicle to have
a large payload, and it got its wish. It also wanted the Shuttle to have a 1,500 mile cross-range capability
so that it could land anywhere in the US. These cross-range capabilities took into consideration the
Earth‘s rotation. In other words, although the US is approximately 3,000 miles from the East Coast to the
West Coast, the Shuttle, moving at speed, and including the Earth‘s rotation, would only have to fly some
1,500 miles to change its landing spot from Cape Kennedy in FL to Edwards Air Force Base in
California. These design changes meant that vehicle would have to sport a delta wing. Grumman had not
contemplated that type of wing in its shuttle designs up to this point, so the company‘s engineers had to
start redesigning the vehicle with the new requirements. As T. A. Heppenheimer notes about the meeting,
because of the Air Force‘s leading political clout on the project, and its much larger budget than NASA‘s,
―the Williamsburg agreement resembled a treaty between a superpower and a small nation.‖ For these
quotes, and more details on these points, see and compare Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never
―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC; and Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 233.
450
going full tilt and many Americans concerned about increased government spending
during a period of rising inflation, Nixon had to consider whether the Shuttle represented a
luxury the nation could afford.104 The U.S. had already achieved its goal of landing a man
on the Moon, and many in government began to question whether the Shuttle was
something Americans would embrace. Exacerbated by the nation‘s severe budget crisis
during the recession of the early 1970s, political doubts threatened the Shuttle program.
Its projected price tag keep rising considerably each month.105
Despite this uncertainty, the space agency moved forward with plans to bring the
program to fruition and Grumman kept pushing toward its dream of winning the contract.
On January 29, 1971, several key NASA personnel again visited the Bethpage company to
review its Space Shuttle activity. They showed a particular interest in the firm‘s external
hydrogen tank configuration. It seemed the leading design favored by NASA engineers
and planners, providing yet another reason for Grumman‘s confidence in its Shuttle
designs as the company began preparing for the next phase in the developmental process.
106
NASA planned to announce the final contract‘s RFP sometime around the end of
September 1971, or shortly thereafter. The apace agency projected it would issue the
winning company a contract sometime between April 1 and July 1, 1972.107
104
105
Ibid., 27.
106
Ibid., 27-28.
107
Ibid., 29.
451
But the Shuttle remained in political jeopardy. In early June 1971 during federal
budget discussions some members of the U.S. House of Representatives tried to cut $125
million of the Shuttle‘s 1972 developmental funds; fortunately for NASA, Congressional
supporters of the space program beat down the measure. Again in July, other members
tried to axe the Shuttle totally from NASA‘s 1972 budget, not just once, but twice; once
again, friends of the program came to its rescue.108 Further complicating matters, NASA
and the Office of Management and Budget (OMB) disagreed about the amount of money
to allocate for the Shuttle. OMB had always viewed the Shuttle unfavorably, because it
felt that the program was too expensive and not a national priority. At the reduced
expenditure levels that the OMB wanted, NASA would have only been able to build the
Shuttle‘s orbiter, but not its boosters.109 As one NASA engineer described it, the ―bead
pushers [referring to the beads on an abacus] were trying to design the Shuttle for
NASA.‖110 These political realities pressed NASA to ask its contractors to find various
lower cost Shuttle options.111
108
Representative Bella S. Abzug, a Democrat representing Manhattan, was one of the most
vocal critics of the space program, particularly the Shuttle. During the summer of 1971, she tried to
amend the Space Authorization Bill so that the Shuttle received no funding. She could not fathom
spending money on space when disease, hunger, and poor housing still persisted. Friends of NASA held
her amendment off. For more on this issue, see Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The
Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC. In the Senate, Walter Mondale, a Democrat from Minnesota became
the most outspoken opponent of the Shuttle Program. He referred to the project as a ―boondoggle.‖ For
more information, see ibid., 48.
109
T. A. Heppenheimer notes that in May 1971 the OMB proposed limiting NASA‘s spending to
$3.2 billion over the following five years. For a more thorough discussion of the OMB‘s views of the
Shuttle, see Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, x, 256, 267-274, and 331.
110
111
Ibid., 45.
452
By August 1971, some aspects of the program started to take on the air of political
favoritism and pork-barreling. U.S. Representative William R. Cotter (D-Conn) requested
an immediate report from NASA on the role that Dale Myers, NASA‘s Associate
Administrator, had played in helping North American Rockwell secure a $500 million
contract for the Space Shuttle‘s engine. The contract was the largest in NASA history
(and incidentally, had been a highly sought after prize, particularly by a company in
Cotter‘s Connecticut district); Myers had worked as a North American Rockwell vice
president before taking a position at NASA in 1969. In an attempt to support his
accusations of impropriety, Cotter cited a four-page memo from the California Space
Shuttle Task Force that urged people invested in bringing the Shuttle to California to let
President Nixon and his aides know their opinions. Cotter interpreted the document as ―a
blueprint for arm-twisting.‖112 This California lobbying group would also cause problems
for Grumman the following year; it became one of the main players in the fight to secure
the Shuttle contract, but for the West Coast. 113
While Congress continued to debate the efficacy of the Shuttle throughout the
summer of 1971, NASA and contract engineers concentrated on the final design of the
vehicle. The designers worked on refining the program throughout most of the rest of the
year. One of the first notable design changes came in July when NASA gave Grumman
and the three other major contractors extensions to polish their concepts for the
112
Historian Joshua Stoff pulled Cotter‘s quotes form the August 14, 1971 issue of the Long
Island Daily News. For more information on this subject, see ibid., 47-48.
113
Ibid., 47-48.
453
program.114 By mid-August, NASA, DoD, the Space Shuttle Panel of the President‘s
Science Advisory Committee, and several contractors met in Woods Hole, Massachusetts
and agreed that the vehicle would have one single expendable external fuel tank.115 The
new design drastically cut the weight of the Shuttle and reduced the vehicle‘s cargo bay to
15 x 60 feet.116 To allow engineers to respond to these changes and perfect the Shuttle‘s
launch modes, NASA issued a second Phase B extension to extend into the new year.117
Ultimately, in November, Grumman and NASA reached an agreement about the exact
design the company should pursue.118 In essence, by this time, most people who had been
114
On July 1, 1971, NASA gave Phase B contract extensions of four months to Rockwell,
McDonnell-Douglas, Grumman/Boeing, and Lockheed. On the 29th of that month, Grumman and Boeing
gave their joint one month alternative shuttle concept update at MSC in Houston. For more details, see
Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖
November 1983, 30-31, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC.
115
The President‘s Science Advisory Committee made up the bulk of the panel at Woods Hole.
Alexander Flax, President of the Institute for Defense Analyses (a Pentagon think tank) chaired the entire
panel. See Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program,
1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 39, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC;
and Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 362-363.
116
These refinements ruled out Grumman‘s H-33 model, which would have required two
external LH2 tanks and internal LOx tanks (this is Stoff‘s emphasis). For more details, see Joshua Stoff,
―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November
1983, 39, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC.
117
NASA issued the second extension on October 7. It was supposed to end on February 28,
1972, but could have been extended until April 30, if necessary. Rockwell, McDonnell-Douglas, the
Grumman/Boeing Team, and Lockheed all received these extensions. For more details, see ibid., 40.
118
Stoff has noted that ―On November 16, 1971, Grumman and NASA agreed on a Definition of
Space Shuttle Program Study. ‗The major study activity will be to define the Shuttle systems consisting of
the MarkI/MarkII Orbiter with either of the two boosters on a parallel basis. Upon system selection by the
NASA, work will be discontinued on all but a single system design to enable concentration of the
remaining effort on the preferred design‘ Thus, the mandate of the study was to fully define a new orbiter
configuration and examine the alternative boosters.‖ Stoff cites the Definition of Space Shuttle Program,
NASA MSC #03820, NASA Contract 9-11160 MOD, November, 1971, 1-4. For more on this subject see
Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖
November 1983, 41, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC.
454
involved in the design process, including contractors, agreed that Grumman‘s concept—a
lightweight expendable tank with two reusable solid-propellant rockets mounted on it and
a separate reusable orbiter—was the best design, given all of the Shuttle‘s different
requirements, from engineering factors to overall cost.119 By late 1971, the Bethpage
manufacturer stood ready to submit its final proposal with confidence, but a major
stumbling block remained: President Nixon had still not approved the program.
In November 1971, the White House Staff was split over the Shuttle. Influenced
by OMB‘s arguments about its cost and low priority, some wanted to cancel the
program.120 Others, like Chief Domestic Advisor John Ehrlichman and staffer Jonathan
Rose, realized the important role that the Shuttle would play in putting people back to
work, especially in the hard-hit aerospace industry. On November 22, the subject of
unemployment was magnified when NASA Administrator James Fletcher promised the
White House ―a direct employment of 8,800 by the end of 1972, and 24,000 by the end of
1973,‖ if the Shuttle was approved.121 Rose, particularly concerned about the issue of
California‘s unemployment, paid careful attention to Fletcher‘s projection. 122 As
Ehrlichman recalled in 1983, the White House realized that the Shuttle might be used to
political advantage by putting people in key states back to work. Ehrlichman described job
growth in these states as ―a very important consideration in Nixon‘s mind… [W]hen you
119
Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 343, 345-346, and 374-375; and Kelly, Moon
Lander, 256-257.
120
Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 381.
121
Ibid., 414.
122
Ibid., 382-383 and 414.
455
look at unemployment numbers, and you key them to the battleground states, the space
program has an importance out of proportion to its budget.‖ 123 Congress had killed the
aerospace industry‘s other dream project, the Supersonic Transport (SST) plane, earlier in
the year, and the loss of jobs associated with it helped sway the White House toward
finally supporting the Shuttle.124 With the death of the SST, the aerospace industry ―lost
something of its reputation as a recipient of undeserved largesse,‖ as historian T. A.
Heppenheimer has noted.125 He suggests that fact, coupled with the reality of high
unemployment, ―made it political feasible to support the Shuttle, not with interim funding
from one year to the next, but as a long-term national effort.‖126
In early December, President Nixon privately endorsed the Shuttle.127 He had
always had mixed feelings about the space program, because it was associated in the
public‘s mind with Democrats Kennedy and Johnson. But Nixon came to believe that the
Shuttle—and its associated jobs—would become his space program legacy, and he liked
123
Heppenheimer quotes from an Ehrlichman transcript from May 6, 1983. For more details, see
ibid., 414-415.
124
The White House also decided to support the Shuttle because of the lack of any other serious
national technological systems proposed at the time (besides the SST). In 1971, the Nixon Administration
had put together the New Technology Opportunities Program (NTOP). The NTOP had asked 15 different
agencies for proposals on how to get science and technology to work together to help advance the nation.
The administration wanted the proposals by the end of the year for inclusion in the FY 1973 budget. One
proposal that came into the NTOP called for a full-scale, high-speed rail transport in the Northeast. Other
than the rail program, however, the NTOP never really received any seriously viable proposals. The
NTOP was dead by the end of the year. The Shuttle consequently garnered Nixon‘s focus and approval.
For more about the NTOP, see ibid., 393-395.
125
Ibid., 293.
126
Ibid., 293, 329-330 and 414-415.
127
Ibid., 386.
456
that idea. Ironically, even though the OMB had been against the Shuttle almost every step
of the way, agency head George P. Schultz helped convince the President to approve.128
Originally, Nixon had leaned toward the OMB‘s recommendation for a downsized version,
about $4-5 billion dollars over eight years, or about half the investment NASA wanted. 129
Once the President had decided to build the vehicle, however, he let NASA determine the
final configuration and size, within reason. Because years of OMB trimming had already
downsized the designs, the Space Agency had few options left. NASA did, however, make
sure the final Shuttle design had a bigger cargo bay than the OMB-influenced version,
something that the Air Force had demanded throughout the Shuttle‘s development.130
On January 5, 1972, Nixon officially announced his approval of the Space Shuttle
Program from the ―Western‖ White House in San Clemente, California, reflecting the
political significance of the decision.131 Fletcher and NASA Deputy Administrator George
Low, who had played an important role in the Shuttle‘s development, witnessed the
statement first hand.132 In his speech, the President stressed the civilian and reusable
aspects of the Shuttle. He spoke of ―an entirely new type of space transportation system
designed to help transform the space frontier of the 1970s into familiar territory, easily
128
Ibid., 390.
129
Ibid., 386 and 400.
130
On December 11, 1971, NASA Administrator James Fletcher learned that Nixon had
approved the OMB‘s version of the Shuttle. Fletcher made sure that he fought for his version of the
vehicle, even if it just meant a larger cargo bay. For more details, see ibid., 400-415.
131
and Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 410-411.
132
Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 410-412.
457
accessible for human endeavor in the 1980s and ‗90s.‖133 He projected that it would
―revolutionize transportation into near space, by routinizing it.‖134 And he emphasized that
―it will go a long way toward delivering the rich benefits of practical space utilization and
the valuable spinoffs from space efforts into the daily lives of Americans and all people.‖ 135
In short, the Space Shuttle would transform the lives of ordinary Americans, but it seemed
no one more so than the aerospace workers who would build the Shuttle and add on to it
in the future. The Space Shuttle guaranteed continued work in an industry that had
promised the Moon and beyond, as well as a lifetime of employment.
Within a few days of the President‘s announcement, as many had predicted, the
Shuttle‘s political ramifications came to the forefront. On January 9 the New York Times
reported that ―lucrative contracts are expected to be awarded this summer in the midst of
a Presidential campaign in which unemployment and the economy will be issues. At least
half of the Shuttle jobs are likely to go to California, which has a high rate of
unemployment and which is a pivotal state in the election.‖136 The Fort Wayne JournalGazette published an even more sharply focused commentary about the high stakes
involved, particularly for the companies who would win or lose the bid. The newspaper
observed that
133
T. A. Heppenheimer quotes a great deal of the President‘s speech, see Heppenheimer, The
Space Shuttle Decision, 412.
134
Ibid.
135
Ibid., 412-413.
136
Stoff quotes the New York Times article in Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never
458
the nation‘s major aerospace contractors are locked in a fierce financially crucial
struggle to get a piece of the action. Winners will share in a contract that could be
worth $6 Billion or more during the development and testing phases and rewards
eventually could come to $14 Billion. The losers face certain layoffs, possible
corporate reorganizations—or worse. ―Some companies, if they lose, will probably
drop out of the space business,‖ said one aerospace executive here recently. 137
On March 17, 1972, NASA released the final RFP for the Space Shuttle.138 The
space agency invited Grumman, as well as many other companies, to officially submit a
proposal.139 NASA told the company that the most important factors would be the
strength and soundness of a contractor‘s systems engineering and system integration;
management approaches and techniques would play a more secondary role in the decisionmaking process. NASA would also strongly consider the cost aspects of the proposal,
including projected cost increases. In essence, technical aspects—which included such
factors as subsystems engineering, system engineering and integration, and manufacturing,
test, and flight test support—were of primary importance in selecting the winning
137
Stoff quotes the March 21, 1972, Journal-Gazette, in Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that
Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 61 and 77, ―Space
Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC.
138
Stoff cites the official proposal as ―Request for Proposal—Space Shuttle Program, RFP #9—
BC421-67-2-40P, NASA MSC, Houston, March 17, 1972.‖ Grummanite Tom Kelly, the Chief Engineer
of the LM Program, recalled that companies had sixty days to prepare their proposals. Submissions had a
limit of 4,000 pages of technical and managerial information, but could have unlimited data on the
financial aspects of the program. For more details on these issues, see and compare Joshua Stoff, ―The
Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 54,
―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC; Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle
Decision, 428; and Kelly, Moon Lander, 257-258.
139
On March 15, right before NASA submitted the final RFP, it announced that the Shuttle
would not use a solid fuel rocket booster. This move cut Boeing out of the process as they company had
based its design around such a system. Grumman, therefore, submitted its own proposal. For more
details, see Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program,
NGHC.
459
proposal. The management aspects—which included organization, key personnel and
related experience, management approaches and techniques, and procurement approaches
and techniques—would play a much more secondary role.140
Congressional funding for the Shuttle lagged behind NASA‘s release of the RFP.
The U.S. House of Representatives did not officially authorize the $3.4 billion for the final
research and design of the Shuttle until April 20 when it voted 277 to 60 to approve the
matter.141
Despite the general approval of the program, some continued to criticize the
Shuttle, however. Although Democratic Representative Bella Abzug represented New
York, she sought to kill a program that could have helped one of her state‘s major
contractors—Grumman.142 She insisted that she did not understand how Congress could
continue to ―allow NASA to drain our resources by shooting hardware into space.‖143
Democratic Senator Walter Mondale, the program‘s most outspoken opponent agreed and
tried to rally the Senate against it.144 He argued that it would cost much more than NASA
said it would. He also noted that NASA had originally designed the Shuttle to work in
tandem with the Space Station, which Congress was still debating. Mondale therefore
140
Ibid., 55-56.
141
Ibid., 50-51.
142
Ibid., 51.
143
The Abzug quote is from the New York Times, April 21, 1972. Josh Stoff quotes the
newspaper in ibid.
144
Mondale had long been a critic of the program. He had renewed his fervor against the project
shortly after President Nixon announced that he had approved the Shuttle. Some other major NASA and
Shuttle opponents included Senators William Proxmire and William Fulbright. For more details, see and
compare ibid; and Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 183-185.
460
questioned the logic of approving only part of NASA‘s Shuttle/Space Station package
when another part of it might not receive a go-ahead.145 Furthermore, some in Congress
had just tired of the space program; after the Apollo 11 Moon landing, people just felt, as
space historian T. A. Heppenheimer put it: ―been there, done that.‖146 Another Democrat,
Senator William Proxmire, an ally of Mondale‘s, stressed that each Apollo flight had cost
as much as to $400 million, an amount that could house about a million people. 147
Nevertheless, despite Mondale‘s and Proxmire‘s best attempts, the Senate approved
funding on May 11 by a vote of sixty-four to twenty-two.148
Within days of the Senate‘s vote, Grumman submitted its final Shuttle design to
NASA; the Bethpage company‘s proposal consisted of nine volumes.149 Throughout the
next several weeks, more than four-hundred NASA engineers and managers evaluated
Grumman‘s submission, along with those of the other major shuttle contract
145
NGHC.
146
147
Ibid.
148
Ibid.; and Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle
Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 51-52, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A98, NGHC.
149
Stoff cites Grumman‘s final proposal as ―Request for Space Shuttle Program,‖ Grumman
Aerospace Corporation, 9 Volumes, Response to NASA RFP# BC421-67-2-40P, May 12, 1972, NASA
#72-74.‖ See Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program,
1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 57 and 77, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98,
NGHC.
461
competitors.150 NASA kept the evaluation process a closely held secret. To ensure the
fairness and impartiality of the process, the Space Agency kept each contractor‘s identity
hidden from the evaluators.151 As one NASA official noted, ―We‘ve gone way overboard
in keeping this thing clean…We have friends and neighbors we can‘t even talk to.‖152 The
evaluation board planned to present its conclusions to NASA Administrator James
Fletcher on Friday, July 22. Two days later, representatives/engineers from each of the
four major firms—Grumman, McDonnell-Douglas, Lockheed, and North American
Rockwell—would get ninety minutes to plead their cases at NASA Headquarters.153
Fletcher planned to make the final decision on July 25 and announce the outcome the
following day.154 Historian Josh Stoff explained the significance of the decision: ―For the
winner it would be a multi-Billion dollar bonanza, for the losers it could mean disaster…
150
Technically, NASA used a two board system to make new contract recommendations to
NASA‘s upper management. As Grumman Vice President and former LM Chief Engineer Tom Kelly
described the situation, two executive groups, the NASA Source Evaluation Board (SEB), and the Source
Selection Authority (SSA), handled the main review process. As he explained: ―In NASA‘s source
selection process, the SEB does not recommend a winner but evaluates the relative strengths and
weaknesses of the proposals and rank orders them using a weighted scoring system for the technical and
management proposals. It also evaluates the relative validity and realism of the cost proposals. The SSA
considers the SEB‘s report as a major input to his deliberations but makes the selection based upon the
overall best interests of the government.‖ See Kelly, Moon Lander, 274; and Joshua Stoff, ―The Space
Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 61
―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC.
151
1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 61 ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC.
152
Stoff quotes the NASA official in his work. He pulled the statement from the Long Island
Daily News, July 23, 1972. See ibid., 61 and 77.
153
Ibid., 61.
154
Ibid.
462
Defense contracts were dwindling and the space program had come to a virtual halt. The
Shuttle appeared to be, and was, the last major space contract to be awarded.‖ 155
Unfortunately for Grumman, while NASA evaluators were still poring over the
Shuttle proposals, disaster struck. On July 9, Grumman President Lew Evans died of a
massive heart attack at the age of fifty-one.156 The company‘s charismatic leader, the
Grummanite who had connected the most with NASA leaders, was suddenly gone. As
Tom Kelly remembered, Evans‘s death plunged the firm ―into unrelieved shock and
gloom. Evans was widely liked and respected at the company, and Grummanites at all
levels felt a profound sense of loss.‖157 As with Jake Swirbul‘s death a dozen years earlier,
―thousands paid their respects at his wake and funeral, with the Grumman security guards
helping the Nassau County Police direct traffic.‖158
At the funeral, Grumman CEO and Board Chair Clinton Towl, the man who had
given the F-14 ―close the doors‖ speech at the Senate hearings some three months earlier,
asked Grumman‘s new VP of Finance John C. Bierwirth to scrutinize the F-14‘s financials
and report back to him as soon as possible. Towl had left much of Grumman‘s operations
and management to Evans while he cared for his wife, who had been ill for quite some
155
Ibid., 60.
156
Thurelsen incorrectly reports Evans‘s age as 52. Evans was born on August 2, 1920. For more
information, see and compare Apollo News Reference, Biography, ―Llewellyn J. Evans,‖ accessed 2
January 2011, www.hq.nasa.gov/alsj/LM16_Biographies_B1-4.pdf ; and Thruelsen, The Grumman Story,
324.
157
158
Ibid.
463
time.159 He knew that the Tomcat program was in bad fiscal shape; with Evans gone, he
needed to know just how bad. Bierwirth reported the dire news to Towl, who had now
become The Grumman Corporation‘s President: ―Give or take two weeks, by the middle
of next April you‘re going to be into bankruptcy.‖160 Despite Evans‘s charisma and
salesmanship, the fact remained that his F-14 contract had left Grumman in a serious
financial situation. Towl and other Grumman managers were counting on the Shuttle to
turn things around, but it looked as if Evans‘s death might severely hamper the firm‘s
efforts to secure the contract, given the loss of his close relationship with NASA.
Grumman VP Tom Kelly, the former Chief Engineer of the LM Program, felt quite
secure about the company‘s final proposal, as well as his individual presentation to NASA,
during the contract competition; he believed the firm would win the Shuttle. 161 As he
recalled, the proposal emphasized Grumman‘s ―systems engineering and program
management capabilities, proven on LM and on our major navy aircraft programs.‖162 The
technical part of the proposal, although fairly conservative, also built on the ―successful
159
David A. Andelman, ―Troubled Grumman Sees F-14 as Its Key Problem,‖ New York Times,
28 August 1972, ―Unidentified Blue Notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
160
Grummanite George Skurla quotes the conversation in Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron
Works, 107.
161
While in the process of working on the Shuttle proposal, Kelly had a late-night conversation
with two German engineers from Dornier Systems, a company that Grumman had worked with for a
while. As Kelly remembered the conversation, ―one of the Germans asked me, ‘What will Grumman get
on shuttle if you lose this competition?‘ ‗Nothing,‘ I replied. ‗Surely, with all this talent and expertise,
your government would not allow it to go to waste if you lose. What then would you get? What is your
loser‘s portion?‘ ‗Nothing,‘ I said again. ‗This competition is totally winner takes all.‘ They both stared at
me unbelieving. Then one shook his head slowly and said, ‗Then America is indeed a very rich country.
But can even a rich country afford such waste?‘‖ See Kelly, Moon Lander, 260.
162
Quoted in ibid., 259.
464
LM experience.‖163 As he remembered about his oral presentation to NASA, ―my briefing
went very well, as did [Grumman Aerospace Division President Joe] Gavin‘s. It seemed to
me that I had the audience enraptured; their attention never wavered, and you could see
their knowing smiles and glances…. The warm reception made me and many others think
we had a winner, and that our orals briefing had hit a home run.‖ 164 As the final decision
deadline approached, Kelly thought Grumman would soon be celebrating a major new
contract that would keep Grummanites busy for at least the next decade.
The Bad News
On Wednesday, July 26, 1972, after the New York Stock Exchange closed, NASA
announced that it had awarded North American Rockwell (NAR) the Space Shuttle
contract, estimated at about $2.6 billion.165 Some Grumman officials learned of the
decision only a few hours earlier, when NASA Administrator James Fletcher called
company President Clinton Towl and broke the news to him as a courtesy.166
163
Ibid.
164
Ibid., 259-60.
165
Rocketdyne, one of NAR‘s subdivisions, also won the Shuttle‘s main engine contract. That
meant that except for some subcontracting work that would be doled out along the way, NAR would build
the Shuttle orbiter and its engine, the two most significant contracts of the program. The agreement‘s total
worth is noted in William Butler, ―Grumman See Layoffs in Hundreds,‖ Sunday News, 30 July 1972,
―Space Shuttle Correspondence; Grumman Info; Misc; Rockwell Info; Release,‖ ―Box #12 Space Shuttle;
Newsclippings; Misc.,‖ Sect A-98, NGHC. For information about the announcement about the contract
award, see Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program,
1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 61 ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC;
and ―Caso to Aid Grumman,‖ Long Island Press, 6 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5
Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC. For information about the Shuttle‘s main engine contract, see
166
Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 432; and Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that
Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 62 ―Space Shuttle
465
Grummanites were shocked and demoralized. For several days after the announcement,
matters grew incrementally worse for Grummanites. The day after NASA‘s
announcement, the company‘s stock took an immediate tumble. Grumman‘s shares
became the ninth most actively traded security of the day. North American Rockwell‘s
stock, on the other hand, rose proportionally about the same amount that Grumman
lost.167 For Grummanites, most of whom had participated in profit-sharing through a stock
program, the stock‘s plunge did not bode well.
Then, on Friday and Saturday, employees started to learn about the possibility of
layoffs. Some of the projected downsizing information came from inside the company,
while other pieces of the story came from the media. J. Kriklava, one of the company‘s
night guards, became one of the first employees outside of management to learn about the
situation. Just a little bit after midnight on Friday the 28th, a UPI reporter telephoned
Kriklava looking for a comment about an article that would be appearing in the morning‘s
New York Times. The story would report that more than 1,500 employees would face
layoffs, two-hundred of whom would receive the axe in about three weeks. Kriklava, not a
company spokesperson, passed the inquiry on to his superiors who sent it on to the Public
Relations Office.168
167
168
The phone call came in at 12:25 AM. For more information, see ―Special Report—Grumman
Aerospace Corporation, Guard Headquarters,‖ Guard J. Kriklava to B. A. Hill, 28 July 1972,
―Unidentified Blue Notebook,‖ Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
466
While some cautionary stories about the stability of Grumman‘s workforce started
to appear in the New York Times and other papers, managers inside the company tried to
reassure employees that Grumman would do everything possible to keep them on the job,
even though most of the workers knew that the company would have to let some of them
go. In an early attempt to counter the Times article, Grumman Aerospace President Joe
Gavin posted a message on the company‘s bulletin boards on Friday the 28th. Speculating
hopefully about how to save jobs, Gavin‘s post explained:
I‘m sure that everyone at Grumman feels as I do—
extremely disappointed—that NASA did not select us as
prime contractor on the Space Shuttle Program.
We worked long and hard on the project; we
submitted a strong proposal; and we were eager to build on
the success we have already demonstrated with the Lunar
Module and Orbiting Astronomical Observatory. . . .
The NASA decision to select North American will
cause some personnel reductions at Grumman. Initially that
will amount to several hundred. As for the future, any
further reductions will depend on the rapidity with which we
can get Shuttle subcontracting work in-house.169
Grumman‘s campaign for Shuttle subcontracting work began almost immediately
after the loss of the primary contract. As Gavin and others knew very well, if Grumman
wanted to avoid massive layoffs, it needed to secure a significant portion of the vehicle‘s
subcontracting as soon as possible. The company got some quick help with the issue from
several politicians and local officials. Senator James Buckley, for example, started pressing
to assure that New York and Grumman received a solid share of the work. NASA and the
169
―News Board,‖ 28 July 1972, ―Space Shuttle Papers, Articles‖ Folder, Box 12 ―Space Shuttle
Newsclippings, Misc.,‖ Sect A-98, NGHC. Also quoted in Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never
467
Nixon Administration also wanted the jobs spread around the country; the space agency
expected at least 50% of the work to go to subcontractors.170 North American Rockwell
(NAR) even went so far as to promise Grumman ―substantial‖ work.171 Grumman hoped
to get $1 billion in subcontracting.172
On August 3, just a week after the final award of the Shuttle contract, some of
NAR‘s top officials and technical representatives flew cross-country to Bethpage to
discuss the possibility of subcontracting work with Grumman. Although the meetings were
just preliminary, many Grummanites were heartened by the discussions. Still, NAR
officials let Grumman know that they planned to meet with other companies on their way
back to California, namely McDonnell-Douglas and Lockheed.173 Although a lot of
subcontracting work would be necessary, there were also several companies vying for the
170
Newsclippings; Misc.,‖ Sect A-98, NGHC. Some estimates suggested that up to 53% of the work on the
Shuttle would be subcontracted out to firms other than NAR. For more information, see ―Shuttle Landed,‖
Economist, 5 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
171
North American Rockwell promised various states a certain amount of work. Some believed that
the Shuttle contract contained an implicit demand that a certain amount of subcontracting would go to
each state. New York seemed as if it would get a substantial proportion of the work, with Grumman
receiving the lion‘s share. For more information on these issues, see David A. Andelman, ―Grumman
Lays Off 300 After Failing to Win Contract for Space Shuttle,‖ New York Times, 2 August 1972, ―Space
Newsclippings; Misc.,‖ Sect A-98, NGHC; and ―Shuttle Landed,‖ Economist, 5 August 1972,
―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
172
New York supposedly would receive $305 million in subcontracts, with Grumman getting the
largest share of that money. However, it was far from the $1 billion company officials were predicting,
hoping for, and projecting. For more information, see and compare ibid.
173
Arthur Jackman, ―Grumman: Glimmer of Hope,‖ Long Island Commercial Review, 4 August
1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
468
money, and even though the primary contract had gone to a California firm, it appeared
that NAR wanted to keep much of the funding in its home state. Newspapers and
periodicals claimed that employment in California‘s aerospace industry would increase by
some 20,000 jobs due to Shuttle subcontracting.174 Much to Grumman‘s dismay, it quickly
learned that New York State would only get about $300 million in subcontracting, far
from the $1 billion that Grumman officials had been hoping for—and predicting and
projecting.175
Despite NAR‘s assurances of future subcontracting—albeit at a much smaller level
than the Bethpage company had calculated—Grumman announced rather quickly that it
would have to let some workers go. One of the same newspaper articles that carried the
story of NAR‘s promise of subcontract work also noted that Grumman would issue
―several hundred‖ pink slips.176 During the first week of August, more than three-hundred
Grummanites, mostly engineers who had worked on the company‘s Shuttle proposal, lost
their jobs.177 A few weeks later, somewhere between 1,500 and 2,000 employees got the
174
―Shuttle Landed,‖ Economist, 5 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5
Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC. At the time, California‘s aerospace industry employed about 448,500
workers, far from its December 1967 record of approximately 616,000 employees.
175
David A. Andelman, ―Grumman Lays Off 300 After Failing to Win Contract for Space
Shuttle,‖ New York Times, 2 August 1972, ―Space Shuttle Correspondence; Grumman Info; Misc;
Rockwell Info; Release,‖ ―Box #12 Space Shuttle; Newsclippings; Misc.,‖ Sect A-98, NGHC; and ibid.
Joe Gavin thought they should receive about $1 billion in subcontract work on the Shuttle. For more
details, see Percy Watson, ―Caso and Klein to push case for Grumman sub-contracts,‖ Long Island Press,
8 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
176
177
469
axe.178 Most of the layoffs occurred in Bethpage, but employees at some of the
company‘s other facilities, including Cape Kennedy and the Manned Space Flight Center
in Houston, also lost their jobs. Engineers made up the greatest percentage of the
reductions, but the layoffs reached every level all the way down to some maintenance
workers.179 The reductions had a cascading effect on an almost daily basis. If Grumman
did not shore up some Shuttle subcontracting work in a timely manner, more layoffs might
follow. And the loss of jobs affected more than Grummanites. According to union
officials, for every individual Grumman employee laid off four Long Islanders would lose
their jobs.180 From the opposite perspective, some estimated that if Grumman had secured
Rockwell Info; Release,‖ ―Box #12 Space Shuttle; Newsclippings; Misc.,‖ Sect A-98, NGHC; ―Grumman
Corp. lays off 300,‖ Long Island Press, 2 August 1972, ―Space Shuttle Correspondence; Grumman Info;
Misc; Rockwell Info; Release,‖ ―Box #12 Space Shuttle; Newsclippings; Misc.,‖ Sect A-98, NGHC; and
―3 Bleak Years of Layoffs on LI,‖ Newsday, 10 August 1972, 2-2, ―Grumman Aircraft Corp. Clippings
Undated—1973,‖ LISI.
178
Sources vary as to the number released. The Long Island Press, the Long Island Commercial
Review, and Josh Stoff all put forth the 1,500 employee statistic. Newsday said the number was about
1,700, while the Long Island Daily News said the statistic was as high as 2,000 workers. For more
information, see and compare Austin H. Perlow, ―LI Will Survive Grumman Crisis: Time Eases Crushing
Impact on the Economy,‖ Long Island Press, 6 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5
Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC; Arthur Jackman, ―Grumman: Glimmer of Hope,‖ Long Island
Commercial Review, 4 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61,
NGHC; Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 19691972,‖ November 1983, 69, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC; ―Caso
Trying to Help Grumman,‖ Newsday, 6 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5
Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC; and William Butler, ―Looking to Agnew on Grumman,‖ Daily News
(Long Island,) 7 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
179
Rockwell Info; Release,‖ ―Box #12 Space Shuttle; Newsclippings; Misc.,‖ Sect A-98, NGHC; and
―Grumman Corp. lays off 300,‖ Long Island Press, 2 August 1972, ―Space Shuttle Correspondence;
Grumman Info; Misc; Rockwell Info; Release,‖ ―Box #12 Space Shuttle; Newsclippings; Misc.,‖ Sect A98, NGHC.
180
Rockwell Info; Release,‖ ―Box #12 Space Shuttle; Newsclippings; Misc.,‖ Sect A-98, NGHC.
470
the Shuttle bid it would have employed an additional 10,000 Long Islanders over the
following decade.181 In 1967, Grumman employed approximately 36,000 workers; with
the loss of the Shuttle contract, employment sank to less than 24,000 workers. 182
McDonnell-Douglas also had to reduce its workforce seriously because of its loss of the
Shuttle contract. The Los Angeles-based company expected to cut about 12% of its
workforce, or some 92,000 employees, over the ―next‖ seventeen months, mostly in
Southern California.183 NAR, on the other hand, expected to increase its workforce by
more than 9,000 workers over the next few years.184
By mid-August, the issue of Shuttle subcontracting overshadowed Grumman‘s
renegotiation of the F-14 debacle. On August 21, Rear Admiral Leonard Snead, the
Navy‘s F-14 Project Officer, announced that he had decided to put the Tomcat contract
181
Austin H. Perlow, ―LI Will Survive Grumman Crisis: Time Eases Crushing Impact on the
Economy,‖ Long Island Press, 6 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖
Sect. A-61, NGHC.
182
Rockwell Info; Release,‖ ―Box #12 Space Shuttle; Newsclippings; Misc.,‖ Sect A-98, NGHC; and
―Grumman Corp. lays off 300,‖ Long Island Press, 2 August 1972, ―Space Shuttle Correspondence;
Grumman Info; Misc; Rockwell Info; Release,‖ ―Box #12 Space Shuttle; Newsclippings; Misc.,‖ Sect A98, NGHC.
183
About 1200 McDonnell Douglas employees at the company‘s St. Louis facilities would also
lose their jobs, but the firm expected a quick increase of about 5,000 jobs in that metropolitan area the
following year because it had secured work on the F-15 contract. See ―NAR to Alter Shuttle Subpacts
Within 90 Days,‖ Electronic News, 7 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖
Sect. A-61, NGHC.
184
NAR expected to hire some 9,000 workers by 1975/76 to accommodate the Shuttle build-up.
About 2,000 to 2,500 jobs would open up in the first year alone. For more details see and compare David
A. Andelman, ―Grumman Lays Off 300 After Failing to Win Contract for Space Shuttle,‖ New York
Times, 2 August 1972, ―Space Shuttle Correspondence; Grumman Info; Misc; Rockwell Info; Release,‖
―Box #12 Space Shuttle; Newsclippings; Misc.,‖ Sect A-98, NGHC; and Shuttle Landed,‖ Economist, 5
August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
471
renegotiation process on hold for three months to wait and see whether Grumman would
obtain any subcontracting work from NAR. Snead acknowledged that he had calculated
that Shuttle subcontracting work would help the company with its overhead, which would
help spread out the burden of the F-14‘s growing costs.185 Once again it seemed that the
F-14 situation continued to affect Grumman‘s ability to secure any work or money related
to the new Shuttle program.
By late summer 1972, the future looked quite bleak for many Grummanites,
especially given the firm‘s mounting fiscal challenges. In August, the company released its
earnings report, which revealed that profits had dropped considerably underlining the dire
need to tap into some of that ancillary Shuttle work.186 Yet NAR did not expect to award
any subcontracting until February 1973 at the very earliest; NAR expected to take at least
three months to prepare the subcontracting agreements before submitting them to NASA.
It then seemed likely that the Space Agency would need at least another three months to
review the awards and give them its final approval. So, in a best case scenario,
185
Chapin A. Day, ―Grumman Unsure of F-14 Delay,‖ Newsday, 22 August 1972, Unidentified
Blue Notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
186
During the first half of 1971, Grumman‘s profits totaled $9,397,057, compared to $5,716,031
during that same period in 1972. At the end of the first half of 1971, the company‘s earnings per a share
stood at a $1.35 on the U.S. Stock Exchange. A year later, earnings per share had fallen to 84 cents. For
more details on this subject, see and compare George DeWan, ―Threat to 1,350 Grumman Jobs: SpaceShuttle subcontracts would come too late, company says,‖ Newsday, 10 August 1972, ―Grumman Aircraft
Corp. Clippings Undated—1973,‖ LISI; and ―Grumman‘s Net Drops Sharply,‖ New York Times, 10
472
Grummanites would have to wait another half year before they learned if they would
participate in the program.187
Even as company officials continued to press for work on the Shuttle, several
Grummanites questioned NASA‘s wisdom in awarding the contract to NAR. That
decision had really galled many of them. They remembered that during the Apollo 13 flight
it was Grumman‘s Lunar Module that had saved the astronauts from disaster. Grumman
engineer Joe Hyde bluntly recalled: ―There was an explosion in the service module that
[NAR] Rockwell built. If it wasn‘t for the Lunar Module we built right here in Bethpage,
we would have had some dead spacemen on our hands.‖188 Newsday reported a similar
sentiment from Grummanite Joe Nieves who insisted: ―NASA should have put the
emphasis on Grumman‘s past performance. It‘s Rockwell that‘s had the foul-ups. It‘s Big
G who‘s pulled them out.‖189 Another Grumman engineer expressed the puzzlement of
many: ―Would you believe that a company that put men on the moon, repeatedly and with
such perfection, would be in the position that it is in today?‖190 As Tom Kelly bluntly
187
George DeWan, ―Threat to 1,350 Grumman Jobs: Space-Shuttle subcontracts would come too
late, company says,‖ Newsday, 10 August 1972, ―Grumman Aircraft Corp. Clippings Undated—1973,‖
LISI.
188
Stoff quotes Hyde in Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space
Sect. A-98, NGHC. For other incidents of Grummanites being shocked and angered about the company‘s
loss of the contract, in general, see Stoff, 62 and Raymond R. Russo, Survey/Questionnaire, 27 January
2000, in the author‘s possession.
189
Stoff quotes the July 27 Newsday article that contains Nieves‘s quote in Joshua Stoff, ―The
Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 71,
190
The engineer‘s quote is in the July 27 edition of Newsday. For more information, see Joshua
Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖
November 1983, 70, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC.
473
noted, ―NASA‘s decision left me disillusioned with the agency and with the government‘s
procurement process. Past quality and performance seemed to count for little, even on a
high-stakes, world-renowned program like Apollo.‖191
Adding insult to injury, even after Grumman had lost the Shuttle to NAR, the West
Coast company requested that some of the Grummanites who had worked on Grumman‘s
proposal come to California to help NAR with some design challenges it was having with
the vehicle‘s final configuration, particularly the external tanks. Officially, NAR
subcontracted Grumman for the use of these engineers‘ services. But while some
Grummanites looked to this talent loan as affirmation of their ability to get the job done,
others could not view the situation without a certain degree of contempt. By October
more than two-hundred Grummanites had gone to the Los Angeles area to assist with the
Shuttle program. Although many were not happy about it, the fact that some would have
to stay for more than a year to assist with the project meant an extra year of certain
employment.192
While some Grummanites fumed about NAR having secured the contract, others
looked for answers in a postmortem of some of the engineering and managerial aspects of
the company‘s proposal. After all, it was difficult for many Grummanites to understand
191
192
Some also provided wind tunnel testing assistance as well as model design support. For more
on this subject, see and compare Press Release, North American Rockwell, El Segundo, CA, 15 September
1972, ―Space Shuttle Info Fr NASA Subcontractors,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC; David
A. Andelman, ―Space Contracts Given Grumman,‖ New York Times, 17 September 1972, ―Space Shuttle
Info Fr NASA Subcontractors,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC; Michael F. Hlinko,
Survey/Questionnaire, 21 December 1999, in the author‘s possession; Henry L. Pallmeyer,
Survey/Questionnaire, 21 February 2000, in the author‘s possession; and Fritz Blomback,
Survey/Questionnaire, 4 January 2000, in the author‘s possession.
474
why the company had lost the contract, especially given, as historian Josh Stoff has
concluded: ―Whatever design NASA was favoring, Grumman was ready. On the whole,
Grumman demonstrated flexibility in a very fluid situation. . . . For Grumman, this
contract was far too important for it to overlook any possibilities. Indeed, Grumman was
the only company passed by in Phase A to make it to make it to the final round.‖ 193
Company executives were frankly mystified, and the loss set off a round of soul-searching.
Industry analysts also tried to dissect the firm‘s setback. 194
Although industry insiders sought a neat explanation, historical analysis suggests
that Grumman may have lost it for a variety of reasons, and not because of a single
misstep. From a technical perspective, Grumman‘s and NAR‘s Shuttle designs appeared
pretty evenly matched. NASA liked both companies and their work because each firm had
very recent, solid experience with the Apollo Program; Grumman had built the LM, while
NAR had constructed both the Command and Service Modules.195 When NASA evaluated
the two companies‘ proposals side-by-side, Grumman seemed to have a slight edge with
weight and load estimates, while NAR, ironically, seemed a bit better with the vehicle‘s
electrical design (light, heat, power and oxygen), even though the company‘s faulty
193
Long Island Press reporter Austin H. Perlow also felt that the Bethpage firm should have won the
competition. He noted: ―Grumman had every reasonable expectation of winning on the basis of its sterling
contributions to the Apollo Program and its outstanding presentation on the space shuttle.‖ See Austin H.
Perlow, ―LI Will Survive Grumman Crisis: Time Eases Crushing Impact on the Economy,‖ Long Island
Press, 6 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
194
195
Ibid., 64. Stoff cites Newsday, October 23, 1972.
475
electrical system had caused the tragic Apollo 1 fire in 1967.196 Grumman also led the
contract competition with the Shuttle‘s overall structural concept, while NAR did a
slightly better job with the launch complex swing arms and the vehicle‘s large cryogenic
tanks.197 Overall, the two companies seemed tied when it came to the technical part of the
proposal.
In terms of management, both firms also seemed fairly evenly matched, but NAR
appeared to score a slight edge over Grumman. Both companies had extensive managerial
experience during the Apollo Program and had long proven track records. But NASA
believed that Grumman favored too quick a build-up with Shuttle personnel, whereas
NAR took a more gradual approach to avoid too many early expenditures.198 Some also
speculate that NASA lost confidence in Grumman with Evans‘s death, fearing his loss was
a major blow to the strength of Grumman‘s managerial team. The firm‘s new Aerospace
Corporation President Joe Gavin, who had been the LM‘s Program Manager, did not
believe that Evans‘s death had really affected the company‘s managerial strength. 199 Still,
196
After the Apollo 1 fire, NAR logically went the extra mile to make sure its electrical designs
led the aerospace industry. For more information, see ibid., 65.
197
See and compare Percy Watson, ―Caso and Klein to push case for Grumman sub-contracts,‖
Long Island Press, 8 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61,
NGHC; and ibid. Stoff cites the New York Times, 28 July 1972 on this issue.
198
1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 63, 65-66, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98,
NGHC; and Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 430-431.
199
David A. Andelman, ―Grumman Explains Loss on Shuttle,‖ New York Times, 8 August
1972, ―Space Shuttle Correspondence; Grumman Info; Misc; Rockwell Info: Release‖ folder, Box #12,
―Space Shuttle; Newsclippings, Misc.,‖ Sect A-98, NGHC; Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never
―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC; and Percy Watson, ―Caso and Klein to push case for
Grumman sub-contracts,‖ Long Island Press, 8 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5
Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
476
some critics looked at Gavin as ―an unknown quantity.‖200 Grummanite Tom Kelly
believed that ―Evans‘s death was a severe blow to our shuttle proposal. Of all Grumman‘s
executives, Lew had established the closest personal rapport with the leaders of NASA,
especially Low, Mueller, Gilruth, and Phillips. They trusted him and believed they could
count on Grumman to do the right things while he was in charge.‖ 201 Kelly felt that
although Gavin ―commanded NASA‘s trust and respect . . . he was not involved in
political strategizing to promote the space shuttle program.‖202 Grumman F-14 Program
Manager George Skurla also believed that Evans‘s death came at ―the worst possible
time.‖203
Another managerial factor stemmed from the relationship that NASA had
developed with each of the companies during the Apollo Program; in a strange twist, it
appears that although NAR had been mainly responsible for the Apollo 1 disaster, that
tragedy had actually helped the California firm and NASA grow closer, while Grumman
and the Space Agency continued to work through a sometimes tricky relationship.
Grumman designer Bertram Dawkins, who had worked on the LM, noted that after the
Apollo 1 fire NASA ―reorganized‖ NAR ―into its own image‖ in an effort to make sure
200
201
202
Ibid.
203
Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 42. For another Grummanite‘s view of the role
Evans‘s death played in helping to scuttle Grumman‘s Shuttle bid, see Eugene J. Coll,
Survey/Questionnaire, 27 January 2000, in the author‘s possession.
477
another disaster did not occur.204 That move allowed NASA to become ―comfortable
dealing with them.‖205 On the other hand, although Grumman engineers had felt
comfortable working with NASA and had never experienced any major safety issues, some
believed that these factors had caused some Grummanites to become overconfident. As
Tom Kelly speculated, ―some in the NASA hierarchy may have remembered the dark side
of their relationship with Grumman on Apollo, in which Grumman appeared arrogant,
holier-than-thou, a loose cannon.‖206 Furthermore, Kelly ―had long observed at meetings
that NASA‘s Apollo management seemed more comfortable at North American than at
Bethpage, showing closer sharing of viewpoints and preferences and never having to
worry about being surprised by its contractor. I believed they considered us to be
standoffish and erratic by comparison…It was possible that our hubris and customer
neglect were major factors in losing the space shuttle competition.‖ 207 As William Kiesel,
one of Grumman‘s fluid power engineers, concluded, ―NASA did not want to work with
Grumman Management, on such a large contract.‖208
204
205
Ibid.
206
207
Ibid.
208
the author‘s possession. Two other major contractors—Lockheed and McDonnell-Douglas—had also
entered the Shuttle contract competition, but they ranked much lower overall than Grumman and NAR.
While Lockheed, for example, had a fairly low cost projection (at only $40 million above NAR‘s bid of
$2.6 billion), NASA evaluators rejected the company‘s proposal as too unrealistic; the space agency just
did not believe that Lockheed could build and maintain its proposed Shuttle design based on its projected
budget. The firm also had not had any experience with any major space projects. As a result, Lockheed
finished last in the competition. McDonnell-Douglas did not rank much higher. NASA evaluators felt that
the company had essentially submitted two separate proposals under the guise of one. One part of the
submission had come from McDonnell‘s St. Louis plants, while the other had come from its California
478
Setting aside the technical and managerial aspects of the Shuttle proposals, some
Grummanites believed that they had lost the project based simply on cost. The firm had
been quite conservative with its estimates and thus its bid represented the highest of the
four companies competing for the contract; their F-14 experience had proven that
Grumman could only predict the program‘s future costs to a certain extent. For some
Grummanites like Joe Gavin, the bid seemed logical and realistic.209 Ultimately managers
believed that their projections would protect not only the company‘s finances, but also
NASA‘s budget. NAR, on the other hand, had said it could do the job for $2.6 billion, the
third lowest bid. Some observers questioned whether the company could really build and
maintain the Shuttle for so little. The Economist, for instance, found NAR‘s cost
projections ―surprisingly low (and possibly unrealistic).‖210 Most analysts had expected
bids to come in at $3.5 billion. And, ultimately, it seemed logical to assume that the five
projected Shuttles would cost a little bit over $5 billion to create and operate over the next
operations in Los Angeles. The technical plan was also weak and the firm‘s costs were just too high.
Overall, the review board felt that McDonnell had tried to win the competition based on its past reputation
of work on the Mercury and Gemini programs. As NASA Deputy Administrator George Low noted, the
proposal had a general feeling of ―we are a great company and you had better give us the job because we
will do the best job for you.‖ McDonnell-Douglas finished a distance third in the competition behind
Grumman and NAR. See Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space
Sect. A-98, NGHC; and T.A. Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 429-30. Stoff cites Newsday,
October 23, 1972 on Lockheed‘s failed bid. For George Low‘s quote, see Heppenheimer, page 30.
209
Gavin also remembered that Grumman had placed the highest bid on the Tomcat contract and
still secured the job (although his reasoning might not have been the best example given the issues
surrounding the renegotiation of the F-14 contract). See Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never
210
―Shuttle Landed,‖ Economist, 5 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5
479
six years.211 Nevertheless, NAR won the contract with a low bid, despite some people‘s
reservations about their cost-estimating.212
Shortly after NASA announced the winner of the Shuttle contract, the Space
Agency polled the companies that had submitted proposals for the program; NASA
wanted to know how the firms felt the competition process had been handled. As NASA
Deputy Administrator George Low noted, three out of the four companies ―indicated that
this had been the best and fairest competition they had ever participated in.‖213 Whatever
the case, overall, most everyone concerned believed that the competition had been handled
fairly.
Still, recriminations abounded on Long Island. Leaving the actual proposals and
final rankings aside, for some Grummanites, politics might have been the main reason that
the company had failed to secure the Shuttle contract; in other words, the actions—or
perhaps more precisely, the inactions—of some politicians might have been key to
Grumman‘s lack of success. For example, Don Samela, a Grumman engineer who had
worked on the company‘s proposal, believed that local politicians had not pushed hard
211
For more on this subject, see ibid.
212
As Grummanite Benjamin Beekman, a ―Cognizant Engineer‖ who had worked on the OAOs,
the LMs and the Shuttle proposal, bluntly remembered: ―I believe cost was the determining factor. We
were all very disappointed since so much effort had been put into our proposal.‖ See Benjamin F.
Beekman, Survey/Questionnaire, 1 March 2000, in the author‘s possession.
213
George Low believed that McDonnell-Douglas‘s President Sanford McDonnell, the only
person who thought the competition had been unfair, was just bitter and arrogant. Analyzing the situation,
Low felt, ―in effect, Sandy McDonnell said that the competition was a fair one if we select McDonnellDouglas, and unfair if we select some else.‖ George Low is quoted in Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle
Decision, 432. Heppenheimer goes into more detail about why McDonnell may have been upset with
NASA‘s decision. For more on this subject, see pages 432-434.
480
enough on Grumman‘s behalf during the final decision-making process. Samela analyzed
the political situation:
Sure I‘m disappointed. I worked on the thing for over two
years…. We were sitting around the office talking about
who would get the contract—Rockwell or Grumman.
Everybody out in California was pulling for this thing. But
on Long Island, you could walk down the street and ask
someone about the Space Shuttle and they‘d say, ―What
Shuttle?‖ We should have gotten Newsday, our Senators
and Representatives behind this thing a long time ago.214
In a similar vein, Newsday reported only a few days after Grumman‘s loss of the contract
that most of the local politicians, and the community, had failed to push for the Shuttle for
Grumman. An industry analyst, for instance, thought that ―on Long Island there was a
complete absence of concern‖ about the Shuttle.215 Representative John Wydler (RGarden City), the Chair of the Long Island Space Shuttle Task Force, complained: ―In the
aerospace industry these days, it‘s the squeaking wheel that gets the grease…. We didn‘t
get too much help from some political people, but also, we didn‘t get it from the whole
community. A lot of people just took it far too lightly.‖ 216 Nassau County Executive Ralph
G. Caso concurred with most of Wydler‘s assessment and clearly blamed New York‘s and
Long Island‘s local and federal representatives for not doing enough to help.217 Some
214
Samuela is originally quoted in Newsday, July 27, 1972. Stoff pulled Samuela‘s remarks from
the Newsday article. See Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle
Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 70, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98,
NGHC.
215
Ibid., 67.
216
Ibid.
217
Ibid.
481
Grummanites, like George Daelemans, who had been a systems engineer on the LM and
OAO programs, even went so far as to link the antiwar movement and his company‘s loss
of the contract. He suggested that because many people had started to disapprove of
America‘s involvement in the Vietnam War, and Grumman was a defense contractor, ―the
New York politicians ‗wrote-off‘ Grumman as a valuable asset to the state‘s economy and
would have been just as happy to see Grumman leave or collapse.‖218 He concluded that
―the company should have moved to a Southern or Western state where it would have
been a major employer.‖219
Others observers placed the political blame for Grumman‘s loss elsewhere—on a
more national scale. They wondered whether President Nixon had used the Shuttle
contract to his advantage during an election year. Some New Yorkers thought that Nixon
had helped the contract go to a California firm—his home state—during the run up to the
1972 presidential election.220 They described the Shuttle as ―the last big award before
November,‖ and called it the ―closer.‖221 This notion gained traction in certain parts of the
218
George L. Daelemans, Jr., Survey/Questionnaire, 31 January 2000, in the author‘s possession.
219
Ibid.Grummanite George Melzer, a man who worked as a tool fabricator, also felt that
politicians had not worked hard enough on the contract. See George Melzer, Survey/Questionnaire, 20
November 1999, in the author‘s possession.
220
and Austin H. Perlow, ―LI Will Survive Grumman Crisis: Time Eases Crushing Impact on the Economy,‖
NGHC.
221
RCA Space Systems Marketing Manager Jack Heavey outlined this argument in a letter to
Grumman‘s Shuttle Marketing Manager Saul Ferdman. One of Heavey‘s other comments and theories
included the notion that Nixon thought giving the award to NAR would help him with the Western labor
vote; the President already viewed the Eastern labor vote as lost. Overall, Heavey argues: ―On Monday,
24 July, Nixon wanted NAR. He concluded he had lost New York State and decided to re-enforce the
Western States. NASA seemed to want GAC. The Congressional members went strong for Southern
482
country and overseas. The Economist, for example, stated: ―Not surprisingly there are
suspicions in New York that the importance of the aerospace industry to California—and
of California to President Nixon‘s re-election—had something to do with the choice,
although the National Aeronautics and Space Administration insists that this is not so.
North American had already won a $450 million contract for the shuttles‘ engines.‖222 At
least one American aerospace industry analyst agreed with the assessment that politics had
become the primary driver behind the contract decision. He explained: ―I don‘t think the
award has anything to do with the managerial efforts of the company or the technological
factor…. I think the intention of the administration was to grant the contract to a
California company.‖223 Still, he seemed a bit perplexed about the political logic of such a
move. He believed that California already stood solidly behind Nixon, whereas New York
might have been more in play. He therefore ―thought it would have made better political
sense to give the contract to Grumman with big California subcontracts. The award was
surprising.‖224 At least one key participant disputes the notion that Nixon controlled the
California.‖ It is unclear whether these are theories posited by Heavey or facts obtained by him. For more
details, see Jack Heavey to Saul Ferdman, 28 July 1972, ―Notes for Your Post-Mortem Shuttle File,‖ ―JGG
Letters—1972 Jun-Aug,‖ Untitled Box, Sect. A-68, NGHC.
222
Actually Rocketdyne, a subdivision of NAR, had won the award. See ―Shuttle Landed,‖
Economist, 5 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC;
Austin H. Perlow, ―LI Will Survive Grumman Crisis: Time Eases Crushing Impact on the Economy,‖
NGHC; and Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 434.
223
Joshua Stoff quotes the industry analyst in his work. He pulled the quote from a July 30, 1972
Newsday article. See Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle
Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 67, ―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98,
NGHC.
224
Ibid.
483
contract. According to NASA Administrator James Fletcher, Nixon stayed out of the
Shuttle contract decision process. From Fletcher‘s perspective, the White House seemed
genuinely indifferent about which company received the award.225
But Grummanites were not convinced. For example, close to thirty years after the
final contract decision, many Grummanites remembered the Shuttle award very bitterly. At
least half the Grummanites who participated in the survey created for use in this
monograph believe that Nixon and party politics had a direct effect on NAR receiving the
Shuttle contract.226 When asked why they think Grumman lost the competition, they had
some very pointed remarks. OAO engineer Walter Muench, for example, said: ―We did
win the competition. President Nixon vetoed it and gave the contract to California.‖ 227
Raymond Sala, a test engineer on the OAO, F-14 and LM programs, simply noted it was
225
226
Fifteen out of thirty-one survey respondents cite Nixon and party politics as being a major
factor, if not the only factor, in NAR‘s winning of the award. Interestingly, of the fifteen, eleven still went
on to vote for Nixon in the 1972 presidential election, and, of those, only six reported being registered
Republicans or members of the Conservative Party. Another seven were registered as Democrats, or
started the1960s as Democrats but began voting Republican in the 1970s. One of the fifteen was an
Independent, and still another only became a U.S. citizen before the 1972 election and does not remember
how he voted. Furthermore, one of the die-hard Democrats did not vote for any Presidential candidate
after the 1964 election because he did not feel that any were worthy of being President. For more on these
issues, see and compare Laurence Van Wallendael, Survey/Questionnaire, 7 February 2000; S. Murray
Krameisen, Survey/Questionnaire, 22 November 1999; George L. Daelemans, Jr., Survey/Questionnaire,
31 January 2000; Raymond Sala, Survey/Questionnaire, 24 November 1999; Walter K. Muench,
Survey/Questionnaire, 14 August 2000; Raymond R. Russo, Survey/Questionnaire, 27 January 2000;
Michael F. Hlinko, Survey/Questionnaire, 21 December 1999; Eugene J. Coll, Survey/Questionnaire, 27
January 2000; N. Roy Tegner, Survey/Questionnaire, 20 January 2000; Henry L. Pallmeyer,
Survey/Questionnaire, 21 February 2000; Dennis S. Riddle, Survey/Questionnaire, 3 December 1999;
Robert Ionescu, Survey/Questionnaire, 1 December 1999; John Caruso, Survey/Questionnaire, 9 April
2000; Daniel J. Carroll, Survey/Questionnaire, 17 November 1999; and Fritz Blomback,
Survey/Questionnaire, 4 January 2000. All in the author‘s possession.
227
Walter K. Muench, Survey/Questionnaire, 14 August 2000, in the author‘s possession.
484
―Politics. We felt cheated and were certain that Nixon interceded.‖228 Raymond Russo, a
mechanic and project lead on the LM, concurred with Sala. ―It was a political decision,‖
according to Russo. ―Nixon gave it to his home state because New York did not have
enough clout in Washington.‖229 Fritz Blomback had worked on the Shuttle proposal and
was one of the Grummanites who eventually went to help NAR with the vehicle‘s final
configuration. Blomback noted: ―I can‘t help but think Nixon wanted the state of
California pretty bad.‖230
Others accepted that other issues had come into play. Some Grummanites agreed
that politics were central to NAR‘s win, but others like OAO and LM systems engineer
George Daelemans believed that labor relations influenced the decision. He noted: ―It had
to go to a California company with a UNION! My reaction was pure disgust. I had hoped
to work on the Shuttle, and [I was] concern[ed] as to what I would be doing after we
launched Copernicus [the last OAO space telescope] that August.‖231 LM and OAO
structural design engineer N. Roy Tegner saw the situation through a similar class lens,
but with a greater emphasis on unemployment. Tegner opined: ―We heard that we were
awarded the contract by NASA but [the] White House gave it to NA/R because the
aerospace industry was suffering in Cal[ifornia] and needed work.‖232 Another OAO
228
229
230
Fritz Blomback, Survey/Questionnaire, 4 January 2000, in the author‘s possession.
231
232
N. Roy Tegner, Survey/Questionnaire, 20 January 2000, in the author‘s possession.
485
engineer noted that politics had definitely been the major factor in the award, but
suggested that Nixon had given the contract to NAR to spread the work around. He
suggested that because Grumman already had the F-14 contract, the President may have
concluded that it was California‘s turn to secure the next major aerospace job.233 All in all,
John Caruso, a LM and F-14 design engineer, neatly summed up the feelings of many
Grummanites: ―We all felt it was a raw deal made by political parties not proposal
merits.‖234
On July 31, 1972, Jean Westwood, the Chair of the Democratic National
Committee (DNC), helped bolster the theory that President Nixon had assisted in the
awarding of the Shuttle to NAR. Five days after NASA‘s Shuttle award announcement,
she publicly blamed the President for using the issue as a reelection ploy to help him win
California. Westwood, who had only risen to the Chairmanship of the DNC two weeks
earlier, issued a press release that not only questioned the ethics of the situation, but also
suggested that Nixon‘s move was a form of payback to some of his major political
contributors, five of whom happened to be board members of NAR. Westwood urged the
Democratic members of Congress to look into the contract award. 235
While some looked to large-scale U.S. political machinations to explain
Grumman‘s loss, others believed that some subtler, but perhaps just as potent, political
233
Walter K. Muench, Survey/Questionnaire, 14 August 2000, in the author‘s possession.
234
John Caruso, Survey/Questionnaire, 9 April 2000, in the author‘s possession
235
―Democrats Link Shuttle Award, NR Contributions to Republican Campaign,‖ Aerospace
Daily, 1 August 1972, 163, ―Space Shuttle Correspondence; Grumman Info; Misc; Rockwell Info;
Release‖ Folder, Box #12 Space Shuttle; Newsclippings; Misc,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC. Westwood is also
quoted in Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 427-428.
486
force tipped the scale in NAR‘s favor. Historian Josh Stoff has observed that some felt
that Grumman was simply ―outpoliticked‖ by NAR.236 Some suspect that Dale D.
Myers—a former NAR executive turned NASA administrator—might have had some
important influence on the outcome, despite his comments that the decision was handled in
a completely objective manner.237 Myers had served as NAR‘s Program Manager on the
Space Shuttle Program until 1970, at which time he joined NASA as the Associate
Administrator for Manned Space Flight.238 As part of his duties at the Space Agency,
Myers put together the NASA Selection Board that evaluated the final Shuttle proposals.
Some Grummanites and other observers consequently felt that he stacked the board with
pro-NAR people. Yet historian T. A. Heppenheimer has found that Myers ―picked its
members based on their positions within NASA and their responsibilities within the shuttle
program; the only non-NASA members were from the Air Force.‖239 Furthermore, NASA
Associate Administrator George Low had noted that Myers ―had fully divested himself of
all his connections with North American and since this activity is so closely tied to all that
he is going to do over the next several years, it was necessary that he should be
236
237
Ibid.
238
For Myers official NASA biography, see ―Dale D. Myers Biography‖ accessed 31 December
2010, http://www.hq.nasa.gov/office/pao/History/Biographies/myers.html.
239
487
involved.‖240 Despite such explanations, however, some continued to view Myers‘s role in
the Shuttle selection process with suspicion.
Some also argue that the politics surrounding the F-14 debacle might have played
an important role in Grumman‘s inability to secure the Shuttle contract. During the
summer of 1972, while NASA officials were evaluating the final Shuttle bids, Grumman
was still locked in heated renegotiation of the Tomcat contract with the Pentagon and
Congress. By the time NASA was considering the Shuttle bids, Grumman had been
lobbying for over two-and-a-half years to try to get the original F-14 agreement
adjusted.241 Because of the Tomcat contract debacle, some contemporaries theorized that
the DoD ―strongly pressed NASA for Grumman to first straighten out its F-14 program,
rather than take on the new Shuttle program.‖242
For some Grummanites, that idea definitely seemed founded on at least one
historical example. Engineer Tom Kelly remembered that the Navy had been objecting to
240
Low is quoted in ibid.
241
In 1972, Grumman told the DoD that it had miscalculated the bid on each of its F-14s by
about $2 million. As Josh Stoff puts it: ―Grumman wrote off a $65 million loss on the job in 1971, skipped
two dividend periods and threatened to close its doors altogether unless the contract was re-negotiated.‖
For more on these points, see Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space
Sect. A-98, NGHC. For additional information, see and compare Chaplin A. Day, ―Delay Seen on
Grumman Decision,‖ Newsday, 12 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖
Sect. A-61, NGHC; Austin H. Perlow, ―LI Will Survive Grumman Crisis: Time Eases Crushing Impact on
the Economy,‖ Long Island Press, 6 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖
Sect. A-61, NGHC; and Percy Watson, ―Caso and Klein to push case for Grumman sub-contracts,‖ Long
Island Press, 8 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
242
For similar sentiments on this issue, also see Austin H. Perlow, ―LI Will Survive Grumman Crisis: Time
Eases Crushing Impact on the Economy,‖ Long Island Press, 6 August 1972, ―unidentified blue
notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
488
having Grumman take on any large-scale non-Navy projects since the early days of the
Space Age; he recalled that Grumman had actually won the Mercury Capsule contract, but
then the Navy told NASA that it would appreciate it if it would award the contract to
another company so that Grumman could concentrate all its efforts on producing the
Navy‘s A-6 Intruder and E-2 Hawkeye aircraft.243 Other Grummanites did not think that
the F-14 situation worked against the company during its Shuttle bid, however. Joe Gavin
believed that people had simply blown the problem out of proportion in an effort to try to
understand why that company had not won.244 The role that Grumman‘s F-14 debacle
played remains open to debate. Whatever the case, in mid-August 1972, Grumman
received a $20 million short-term loan from the Navy to allow it to continue to build
Tomcats through the end of the year, at which point the government would renegotiate
the contract. Being an election year, politicians wanted to wait until the bitter end before
hammering out a new deal.245
243
Kelly relates this story in Kelly, Moon Lander, 11. George Skurla also cites Kelly‘s
recollection, however, he also notes that another Grummanite, Saul Ferdman, remembers the Mercury
contract competition story a little differently. Ferdman claims that Grumman and McDonnell had actually
tied during the competition and that ―the Navy wrote a letter to NASA, stating that Grumman was very
healthy (we had just won three major navy contracts), but that it would be appreciated if we weren‘t
picked as the Mercury winner.‖ However, Ferdman also suggested that he took the Navy‘s veto power out
of the process in future contract bids because ―when the lunar module came along, I saw to it that we
wrote a letter first, and no more of that went on.‖ For Ferdman‘s story, see Skurla and Gregory, Inside the
Iron Works, 80-81.
244
245
One of the loan‘s stipulations required that Grumman could not pay its shareholders a
dividend until the loan had been repaid. For more details, see and compare Proposed News ReleaseAugust 16, 1972,‖ ―Advance payment Proposed News Release‖ Folder,‖ ―Box F-14 Collection of Letters
and Documents Ref F-14 and Government Officials—Early 1970s,‖ Sec A-51, NGHC; ―Grumman‘s Net
Drops Sharply,‖ New York Times, 10 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5
Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC; Muriel O‘Donnell, ―Grumman Corp: New Govt Loan,‖ Long Island
489
Some scholars and contemporary observers have suggested that NAR may have
won the Shuttle because of perceived differences about the two companies‘ equal
employment records. Like Grumman, NAR had instituted an affirmative action policy as
early as the Kennedy Administration, and in November 1967, the National Urban League
had presented NAR with its Equality Opportunity Award because of its outreach to the
African-American community.246 Then in 1969, both companies faced very outspoken
groups of black workers who charged the companies with racism and demanded more
accelerated racial change, mainly in the hiring of more minorities in upper management.247
While both firms tried to increase their minority recruitment, NAR gained a slight edge
over Grumman in this area, or at least that was NASA‘s perception at the time. In October
1972, NASA Official Richard McCurdy suggested that the issue may have played a role in
awarding the Shuttle contract. ―We‘re not crusaders for civil rights,‖ McCurdy insisted.
Commerical Review, 11 August 1972, Vol 19, # 220, Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC; David
A. Andelman, ―Troubled Grumman Sees F-14 as Its Key Problem,‖ New York Times, 28 August 1972,
―Unidentified Blue Notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC; Joshua Stoff, ―The Space
Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 66,
―Space Shuttle Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC; and Dick Seelmeyer, ―Grumman
may be near victory in F-14 hassle,‖ Long Island Press, 10 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖
―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
Most politicians wanted to wait until the end of the year to put a new contract in place. However,
some, like Senator Howard W. Cannon (D-Nev), the Chairman of the Senate Armed Services Tactical
Airpower Subcommittee, did not want to get involved in the dispute. He stated: ―I personally am not
interested in putting this off until after the election. I‘m not going to participate in something like that—
not knowingly, at least.‖ For more information, see Chaplin A. Day, ―Delay Seen on Grumman Decision,‖
Newsday, 12 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
246
U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, Hearings Before the United States Equal
Industries, Los Angeles, CA, March 12-14, 1969, 53. Like all the other companies, NAR did heavy
recruiting at historically black colleges, see pages 56 and 64.
247
Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 431-432; and Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles
that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 68, ―Space Shuttle
490
―But the fact that North American moved forward on this front tells us something about
how the company is thinking ahead, about how it‘s going to get along in its labor relations
over the next ten years.‖248 Although both Grumman and NAR had pushed to increase
their minority hiring and promotions at an accelerated rate from 1969 onward, NASA
looked to NAR as the leader in the field.249 In some minds, NAR‘s record on affirmative
action gave it a slight edge over Grumman in an otherwise evenly matched contest.
Clearly, multiple factors conspired to lose the contract for Grumman, some within
the company‘s control and some outside. Undoubtedly, the unresolved Tomcat
controversy made it extremely difficult for NASA to choose Grumman. As Tom Kelly
astutely noted, the Space Agency ―would have had much explaining to do with Congress
and the American public if…[it] had selected Grumman, given its F14-tarnished image.‖250
248
Parts of McCurdy‘s quotes are contained in both Heppenheimer‘s and Stoff‘s work. For more
details, see and compare Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle Decision, 432; Joshua Stoff, ―The Space
Shuttles that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 67-68,
249
As previously noted in Chapter Three, in 1969, about 8% to 9% of Grumman‘s and NAR‘s
workforce consisted of minority employees, mostly in low-paying jobs. By 1972, NAR, according to Stoff,
had minorities in 12% of its professional staff positions, 8% in lower management, and 7% in top
management. They included African Americans, Asians, and Latinos. As T. A. Heppenheimer notes, this
percentage seemed to be much higher than that of any of the other Shuttle contract bidders. Unfortunately,
Grumman‘s minority statistics for 1972 are difficult to determine. Anecdotal evidence, however, suggests
that Grumman continued to recruit minority aggressively during this period. For more details on these
issues, see and compare ―Grumman Charged Anew With Bias,‖ Newsday 20 June 1969; ―Black
Organization Threatens to Shut Down Grumman,‖ Long Island Press 20 June 1969 in "CORE," Sect. A12, NGHC; U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, Hearings Before the United States Equal
Industries, Los Angeles, CA, March 12-14, 1969, 59-60, 436 and 439; Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles
that Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 72, ―Space Shuttle
Reports,‖ ―Box #9 Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC; and T.A. Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle
Decision, 432.
250
Kelly, Moon Lander, 260. RCA Space Systems Marketing Manager Jack Heavey detailed a
similar argument about Grumman‘s mismanagement of the F-14 as being a major reason the company
491
Furthermore, as historian Joshua Stoff has suggested, the mandate for the company was
―to sell themselves and their ability, not just their product.‖251 And that became extremely
challenging for the company when Lew Evans, Grumman‘s political operative and
charismatic leader, died suddenly only a few weeks before the final push toward NASA‘s
Shuttle award. As Kelly noted, these factors merged in such a way that ―NASA
management was doubtless concerned that with Evans gone and the company facing huge
financial losses, Grumman would not survive, making its ability to live up to its shuttle
proposal questionable.‖252
Whatever the explanation, Grumman‘s failure to win the Space Shuttle contract
had a devastating effect on the company, its workers, and their community, particularly
from a psychological perspective; some believed Grummanites and the firm never fully
recovered from the blow. In the rollercoaster ride between 1969 and 1972, Grumman had
gone from having to fund most of its own Shuttle studies to becoming one of the two
leading finalists in the competition for the vehicle‘s primary contract to scrambling for
Shuttle subcontracts.253 As some scholars and historical contemporaries of the 1970s have
lost the Shuttle. As Heavey argued in a letter to Grumman‘s Shuttle Marketing Manager Saul Ferdman,
―Nixon can defend NAR on supporting ‗better management‘ than Grumman. NAR‘s past mismanagements [sic] and overruns are not in today‘s newspapers, whereas the F-14 is. He did have concern
about Proxmire and award to GAC: ‗How can you reward Grumman with Shuttle when they blew the F14 costs.‘‖ See Jack Heavey to Saul Ferdman, 28 July 1972, ―Notes for Your Post-Mortem Shuttle File,‖
―JGG Letters—1972 Jun-Aug,‖ Untitled Box, Sect. A-68, NGHC.
251
252
253
492
suggested, although NAR‘s and Grumman‘s proposals were almost evenly matched from a
technical perspective, Grumman leadership in that area was effectively proven by the fact
that the Shuttle‘s final configuration closely resembled the Bethpage‘s company‘s ultimate
proposal.254 Grumman‘s external fuel tank concept was a significant contribution to the
program that helped bring the Shuttle‘s cost and size down enough so that the vehicle
could actually be built.255 In the end, it was Grumman‘s final model proposal that
predicted the Shuttle‘s ultimate design, yet Grumman workers reaped few benefits from
their superiority.
Grumman‘s inability to capture the Shuttle put the company and its workers in an
untenable situation with an uncertain future. As Grummanite George Skurla recalled,
―losing the space shuttle, which had the configuration Grumman created, thus had the
same finality as a last chance at bat in a ball game.‖256 Another company official simply
opined ―we were screwed.‖257 Nevertheless, as angry as many Grummanites were about
the Shuttle loss and the resulting layoffs, they still looked to Grumman as a type of moral
254
Ibid., 62-63 and 72; Benjamin F. Beekman, Survey/Questionnaire, 1 March 2000, in the
author‘s possession; Laurence Van Wallendael, Survey/Questionnaire, 7 February 2000, in the author‘s
possession; Robert Ionescu, Survey/Questionnaire, 1 December 1999, in the author‘s possession; and
William F. Kiesel, IV, Survey/Questionnaire, undated (circa November1999 – April 2000), in the author‘s
possession. For a diagram that shows that Grumman‘s design was almost identical to the final model
developed, see Roger D. Launius, ―Toward an Understanding of the Space Shuttle: A Historiographical
Essay,‖ Air Power History 39, no. 4 (Winter 1992): 5.
255
256
257
Joshua Stoff quotes the Grumman official in his work. He pulled the quote from William
Stockton, Spaceliner (New York: Time Books, 1981), 47. See Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that
Never Were: The Grumman Space Shuttle Program, 1969-1972,‖ November 1983, 62 ―Space Shuttle
493
center in their lives. Having lost his job in September 1972 shortly after buying a new
home, one engineer still believed that ―It‘s a damn good company to work for, the best I
ever worked for.‖258 When asked if he felt that Grumman had let him down, the engineer
replied, ―For heaven‘s sake, they‘ve done their best to keep people on. When they‘ve had
to cut back, they have cut back as fairly as possible. I don‘t think management could have
done any more than they really did.‖259
The End of the Apollo Era: Grumman‘s
Scramble to Save its Workforce
Company officials and industry analysts would continue to ponder NASA‘s Shuttle
decision for years. The loss of this hoped-for contract placed the jobs of many
Grummanites in a precarious position, and the constant threat of layoffs, coupled with the
conclusion of several company projects and the protracted renegotiation of the very
contentious F-14 contract, forced many Grummanites to fear for their futures. As
employed and unemployed Grummanites tried to move forward in this atmosphere of
pervasive uncertainty, two things became very clear. First, former Grummanites needed
practical assistance; they needed financial aid and help finding new jobs. Second, for those
Grummanites who still remained on the job, the company needed to secure some Shuttle
subcontracting work in order to keep large numbers of them employed.
New York politicians, on both the local and national levels, tried to help former
258
Joshua Stoff quotes the engineer in his work. He pulled the quotes from the September 12,
1972 issue of the Long Island Daily News. See Joshua Stoff, ―The Space Shuttles that Never Were: The
Space Shuttle,‖ Sect. A-98, NGHC.
259
Ibid.
494
Grummanites and other unemployed aerospace workers by seeking financial aid for them
through the recently enacted Emergency Manpower Act of 1971. The act authorized more
than $1 billion to set up the Public Employment Program (PEP) charged with creating
more than 150,000 new jobs for America‘s unemployed and underemployed.260 The
program represented the ―first sizeable antirecessionary public service employment effort
since the Great Depression.‖261 Funding was released and spent rather quickly based on
how severe unemployment was in a particular area. Most of the funds went to cover
workers‘ wages.262 The law tried to help ―such groups as veterans, younger and older
workers, the economically disadvantaged, welfare recipients, migrant workers, nonEnglish speakers and workers laid off due to cutbacks in the defense, aerospace and
construction industries.‖ 263 Federal and local officials did not require a lot of lead time to
create the new positions, mainly in the ―field of public service—in such areas as
environment, health, education, public safety, crime prevention, prisons, transportation,
260
Some sources place the authorized funding as high as $2.5 billion and claim the program
―mandated that a maximum salary of $12,000 per employee could come from federal funds and (excluding
teaching positions) a maximum of one-third of the jobs created could be for professionals.‖ The quote is
from Linda Levine. For more details, see and compare ―228 – Statement about the Emergency
Employment Act of 1971,‖ July 12, 1971, John T. Woolley and Gerhard Peters, The American Presidency
Project [online], accessed 6 January 2010, http://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/we//pid=3075; and Linda
Levine, ―Countercyclical Job Creation Program‖ Congressional Research Service, January 15, 2009, 3,
accessed 6 January 2010, http://assets.opencrs.com/rpts/92-939_20090115.pdf.
261
Linda Levine, ―Countercyclical Job Creation Program‖ Congressional Research Service,
January 15, 2009, 3, accessed 6 January 2010, http://assets.opencrs.com/rpts/92-939_20090115.pdf.
262
Ibid.
263
Ibid.
495
park maintenance, recreation, rural development, and sanitation.‖264 Most people equated
the new jobs with ―public works construction projects.‖265 They also viewed them as
―transitional,‖ meaning that such positions would ―lead people into permanent jobs,‖ not
merely become long-term substitutes for regular employment.266 The two-year program
triggered when the nation‘s unemployment rate reached ―4 ½ percent for more than 3
consecutive months.‖267 The act also allowed for separate programs in local areas with
―continuing high unemployment.‖268 In locales where unemployment remained at 6% or
above for three or more months, government officials could tap an additional $250 million
in funding to help their out-of-work constituents.269
In early August 1972, several New York legislators and representatives began
lobbying the Nixon Administration for help in trying to secure Shuttle subcontract work;
they also wanted federal monies from the Emergency Employment Act to try to retrain
former Grummanites for jobs outside the aerospace field. Nassau County Executive Ralph
G. Caso became one of the first New York officials to press Washington for help for
Grumman in the aftermath of the company‘s Shuttle contract loss. He met with Vice
President Spiro Agnew during the second week of August, as well as Astronaut William
264
―228 – Statement about the Emergency Employment Act of 1971,‖ July 12, 1971, John T.
Woolley and Gerhard Peters, The American Presidency Project, accessed 6 January 2010,
http://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/we//pid=3075.
265
Ibid.
266
Ibid.
267
Ibid.
268
Ibid.
269
Ibid.
496
Anders (the Executive Director of the National Space Council), and New York Senators
Jacob K. Javits (R) and James L. Buckley, a member of the Conservative Party of New
York.270 Caso, a Republican, had recently discussed the issues of federal spending and
unemployment with Agnew at a Nassau County Republican Party function in June.271
During his rounds in DC, Caso hoped to apply enough pressure on the Nixon
Administration to help Grumman secure a major share of the Shuttle subcontracting work
that North American was promising to dole out in the coming months, He also wanted to
obtain relief for some of the Grummanites whom the company had been forced to let go.
He predicted that ―with the aid of perhaps $1-million in Federal funds from existing public
service jobs and manpower programs, Nassau County could employ about 600 of
Grumman‘s engineers and technical personnel until Grumman obtained expected
subcontracting work from the North American Rockwell Corporation for the space shuttle
program.‖272 Suffolk County Executive John V. N. Klein and William Higbe, Nassau
270
Javits wanted to help Caso out as much as possible, but he told the Long Island official that no
more 1972 funding was left. Caso would have to start looking toward 1973. Richard L. Madden, ―Caso
Seeking Federal Funds to Hire L.I. Engineers Laid Off by Grumman,‖ New York Times, 9 August 1972,
―Grumman Aircraft Corp. Clippings Undated-1973,‖ LISI; and Percy Watson, ―Caso and Klein to push
case for Grumman sub-contracts,‖ Long Island Press, 8 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box
5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
271
William Butler, ―Looking to Agnew on Grumman,‖ Daily News (Long Island,) 7 August
1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC; and ―Caso Trying to
Help Grumman,‖ Newsday, 6 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect.
A-61, NGHC.
272
For the quote, see David Fluhrer, ―Caso‘s Pleas on Grumman are Redirected,‖ Newsday, 9
August 1972, unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC. For the most
complete information on Caso‘s role in this situation, see and compare Richard L. Madden, ―Caso
Seeking Federal Funds to Hire L.I. Engineers Laid Off by Grumman,‖ New York Times, 9 August 1972,
―Grumman Aircraft Corp. Clippings Undated-1973,‖ LISI; ibid; George DeWan, ―Threat to 1,350
Grumman Jobs: Space-Shuttle subcontracts would come too late, company says,‖ Newsday, 10 August
1972, ―Grumman Aircraft Corp. Clippings Undated—1973,‘ LISI; and David Breasted, ―Caso Shuffles
497
County‘s Manpower Development Commissioner, also helped apply pressure on the
Nixon Administration, as did Nassau County Comptroller Angelo Roncallo (a Republican
congressional candidate) and Assemblyman Joseph Margiotta.273
Caso believed that he had helped deliver a ―sizable vote‖ for Nixon in 1968 and he
wanted the administration to realize that New York had still not written the President off
for the upcoming fall election, if Long Island voters could be motivated to swing New
York Nixon‘s way.274 As Caso appealed to the administration for help under the
Emergency Manpower Act, he argued that such aid would not only help his constituents,
but also the nation as a whole. By financially assisting some of Grumman‘s highly skilled
former workers, the country would be in a position to quickly reassemble many of the
D.C. for Shuttle Work,‖ Daily News (Long Island), 9 August 1972, unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5
273
On Klein joining the fight, see William Butler, ―Looking to Agnew on Grumman,‖ Daily
News (Long Island,) 7 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61,
NGHC. Higbe‘s involvement is mentioned in George DeWan, ―Threat to 1,350 Grumman Jobs: SpaceShuttle subcontracts would come too late, company says,‖ Newsday, 10 August 1972, ―Grumman Aircraft
Corp. Clippings Undated—1973,‘ LISI. On Roncallo‘s and Margiotta‘s efforts, see Dick Seelmeyer,
―Grumman may be near victory in F-14 hassle,‖ Long Island Press, 10 August 1972, ―unidentified blue
During his congressional campaign, Roncallo claimed to have a plan to help out-of-work
aerospace workers get back on their feet. He argued that the federal government should pay up to a year‘s
salary to anyone caught up in downsizing; essentially, he blamed the federal government for not planning
ahead. Roncallo proposed using $1 billion to help some 20,000 laid off workers seek new employment,
relocate, and retrain, if necessary. As he saw it, aerospace workers had helped the nation achieve great
accomplishments. For more on this issue, see Bruce Lambert, Jr., ―Roncallo Has a Plan,‖ unidentified
newspaper, undated, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC.
274
Richard L. Madden, ―Caso Seeking Federal Funds to Hire L.I. Engineers Laid Off by
Grumman,‖ New York Times, 9 August 1972, ―Grumman Aircraft Corp. Clippings Undated-1973,‖ LISI.
498
nation‘s top aerospace engineers and workers, something that might come in handy as the
Cold War continued into the 1970s.275
On August 9, 1972, on the heels of Caso‘s special appeal, the Long Island Space
Shuttle Task Force, an ad hoc group of New York industrialists, government officials, and
labor, technical, and educational leaders, fired off a letter to President Nixon urging him to
provide interim funding to help keep ―Grumman‘s present shuttle staff‖ intact, until NAR
put out its subcontracts. The task force had worked very hard to try to win the Shuttle
contract for Long Island before losing it to NAR; now their letter noted, ―At this moment
Grumman is uniquely equipped to perform…to assist in pre-contract planning and
definition.‖276 Suffolk County Deputy Executive Arthur Bergmann approved of Caso‘s
actions and agreed that the region needed the emergency funding so that Grumman could
keep its engineers in place and not have to rebuild its workforce later.277 Ultimately, the
funding did not come, or at least not in any appreciable form. As fall approached,
275
Dick Seelmeyer, ―Caso seeks funds to hire engineers from Grumman,‖ Long Island Press, 9
276
―Aid Grumman, Nixon Urged,‖ Long Island Press, 10 August 1972, 1, ―unidentified blue
notebook,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC. Notably, two members of the Committee,
Anthony R. Amodeo, President of the Long Island, AFL-CIO and Rocco Campanero, Executive Vice
President of the AFL-CIO, while very aware that Grumman was a non-union company, also knew that
helping Grumman would help many union members through a trickle-down effect. Many of the
company‘s subcontractors on Long Island were union firms.
277
This special funding required hurdles too high to overcome, however; as Bergmann noted, the
funding would have to be granted by ―a special manpower act or an extension of the Emergency
Employment Act.‖ It would have to be approved by the Congress. Bergmann is quoted in ―LI officials to
seek emergency $ in D.C., Long Island Press, 10 August 1972, ―unidentified blue notebook,‖ ―Box 5
Newsclippings,‖ Sect. A-61, NGHC. Also see ―Why Did Grumman Have to Go It Alone?,‖ Newsday, 11
499
unemployment on Long Island climbed to close to 8%. Many of those who were out of
work were former aerospace employees.278
By December 1972, Grumman‘s two major space projects—the OAOs and the
LMs—had come to an end. The last OAO had gone into orbit on August 21, and the last
operational LM had launched on Apollo 17 on December 7 from Cape Kennedy. 279 For all
intents and purposes, Grumman‘s involvement in these programs, except for some mission
support, was finished. In essence, the Apollo era had ended for Grummanites, and with the
company‘s loss of the Space Shuttle contract, and its tenuous search for subcontracting
work from NAR, it looked as if Grumman might be out of the space business for good.
From 1968 to the spring of 1972, approximately 14,700 Grummanites lost their jobs, even
before the company had submitted its Shuttle proposal. In 1968, one year before the
company‘s triumph with the Apollo 11 Lunar Module, more than 36,400 people had
worked at Grumman, but by the spring of 1972, as Apollo construction started to wind
down, that number had dropped to approximately 21,700. Or put another way,
approximately two out of every five workers had lost their jobs.280 For many
Grummanites, the end of the Apollo Program also marked the end of their careers in the
aerospace industry.
278
―Why Did Grumman Have to Go It Alone?,‖ Newsday, 11 August 1972, ―unidentified blue
279
See page B-118 of ―NASA Major Launch Record‖ in NASA Pocket Statistics, accessed 8
January 2011, http://history.nasa.gov/pocketstats/sect%20B/MLR.pdf.
280
These statistics are cited in ―F-14 Fighter: Navy Indicates Desire for More Planes,‖
Congressional Quarterly, 31 March 1973, 732, ―Duane Yorke—1973 (JBR)‖ Folder, ―Box F-14
Collection of Letters and Documents Ref F-14 and Government Officials—Early 1970s,‖ Sec A-51,
NGHC.
500
F-14 Program Manager George Skurla remembered that the end of the Apollo
Program created a great deal of stress for many Grummanites, including him. With fewer
jobs around, some started to compete for slots at the company, and for Skurla, who was
often in charge of deciding who stayed and who went, the situation was far from pleasant.
Skurla recalled that shortly after the launch of Apollo 17
people down at the Cape wanted to come back [to
Bethpage], and they were good. So they were bumping one
another out of positions. Anybody who is vulnerable, I
thought, ought to be informed as soon as possible, even a
month ahead of time. ―Oh, no, you can‘t do that,‖ I was
told. ―We‘ll have all kinds of trouble, sabotage,
disruptions.‖ Instead, I argued: ―I don‘t want some guy
we‘re going to let go a month from now—and we know it,
or probably know it—buying a new house or a new car, or
thinking he‘s still going to have a job. We owe it to these
people.‖ I was overly sensitive to this in the minds of some
of my colleagues. But I felt rotten about it. 281
Other Grummanites also remembered the end of the Apollo era with a combination of
sadness, anger, and uncertainty. Some tried to remain optimistic and believed that the
company would find new space projects even after the end of the Apollo Program, but
others, like Daniel Carroll, who had been a technician, supervisor and group leader on
several Grumman projects, echoed Skurla‘s sentiments about layoffs. 282 For Carroll, the
end of the Apollo Program left him ―sad, because we felt there would be the inevitable
‗Reduction in Force.‖283 Raymond Sala, a test engineer on the OAOs, F-14, and LMs, also
281
282
For an optimistic view, see Eugene J. Coll, Survey/Questionnaire, 27 January 2000, in the
283
Daniel J. Carroll, Survey/Questionnaire, 17 November 1999, in the author‘s possession.
501
felt ―sad‖ because he believed the company ―had worked on proposals that would extend
space and lunar exploration.‖284 Bertram Dawkins, who had helped design the LM and
worked on the Shuttle proposal, also felt a sense of loss, as well as apprehension about the
company‘s future. He definitely believed that ―the end of an era had come. As it became
evident that future lunar missions would not take place, it was evident that the lunar
landing had served a political, not scientific mission . . . . It looked like we would turn off
the lights.‖285
For Fritz Blomback, one of the people who had gone to NAR to help them with
their Shuttle design in the fall of 1972, the launch of Apollo 17 brought a sense of
aimlessness. Blomback remembered his frustration: ―We met the objectives. Now what‘s
the next step? I think the government stumbled here and so did Grumman‘s
Management.‖286 George Daelemans, who had served as a systems engineer on the OAOs
and LMs, agreed that some had fallen down when it came to setting long-term objectives,
but he believed that all Americans should have shared in the blame. As Daelemans noted
about the end of the Apollo Program, ―it was sad. I couldn‘t believe we were throwing
away the capabilities and hardware designs that could have openned [sic] space. This was
the beginning of my feelings of contempt for the general public because of their shortsighted-ness [sic] and the triviality of their preoccupations.‖287 Former LM engineer John
284
285
286
287
502
Caruso summarized the feelings of many, when he wondered, ―where did it all go so
soon?‖288
On December 12, 1972, the front page of the New York Times proclaimed ―2
Astronauts Walk in a Valley of Moon: Last Landing of Apollo Series is Smooth.‖ Under
the headline was a photo of Apollo 17 Astronauts Gene Cernan and Harrison Schmitt
standing next to the American flag they had just planted on the lunar surface. Much to
Grumman‘s chagrin, another, less encouraging story was printed directly under the
triumphant headline and image; the other story was titled ―U.S. Bars Price Increase by
Grumman for F-14‘s.‖ The report stated that the Navy planned to enforce the original
Tomcat contract, insisting that Grumman build forty-eight more F-14s with no price
increase granted.289 The Navy officially ordered the aircraft—which made up Lot 5 of the
Tomcat contract—on the same day that the Times article appeared.290 About seventhousand Grummanites were working on the F-14 Program at the time, but ironically the
new order was no boon to Grumman employment even in the context of the Shuttle
loss.291 With each plane costing more to produce than the Navy was paying, if Grumman
288
John Caruso, Survey/Questionnaire, 9 April 2000, in the author‘s possession.
289
New York Times, 12 December 1972, ―No. 1 Letters to Grumman Shareholders, Dec 11,
1972,‖ Folder, ―Box F-14 Collection of Letters and Documents Ref F-14 and Government Officials—
Early 1970s,‖ Sec A-51, NGHC.
290
By this point, Grumman had delivered 86 F-14s to the Navy. See New York Times, 12
December 1972, ―No. 1 Letters to Grumman Shareholders, Dec 11, 1972,‖ Folder, ―Box F-14 Collection
of Letters and Documents Ref F-14 and Government Officials—Early 1970s,‖ Sec A-51, NGHC;
Thruelsen, The Grumman Story, 371; and Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 107-108.
291
Marc Schogol, ―Grumman Halts New F-14 Work,‖ Newsday, 12 December 1972, ―Grumman
Aircraft Corp. Clippings Undate-1973,‖ Folder, LISI.
503
did not negotiate a more favorable contract with the DoD, as Clinton Towl had warned
some eight months earlier, Grumman might have to close its doors.
As the end of 1972 approached, Grummanites could take solace in a least one
moment on the job: despite all the company‘s financial problems, Grumman still gave its
employees their Christmas bonuses, estimated at a total of approximately $17 million. As
new Grumman Corporation President John C. Bierworth noted, the bonuses had already
been incorporated as ―part of the company‘s regular wage structure.‖292 He tried to deflect
criticism by declaring, ―In Grumman we believe that performance incentives are a valid
form of motivation toward excellence in performance.‖293 For some Grummanites, this
would undoubtedly be the last Christmas bonus they would receive from the company, for
they would soon no longer have jobs. Others just hoped the company—and their jobs—
would last until at least the next holiday season. Grummanites from every level looked to
1973 for both a hopeful resolution to the F-14 problem and the procurement of some
Shuttle subcontracting work.
1973—the Resolution of the F-14 Debacle
and a Space Shuttle Subcontract
The new year got off to a rough start for Grummanites. The Navy and Grumman
remained locked in a protracted renegotiation of the F-14 contract. Some Grumman
shareholders, tiring of the situation, decided to take matters into their own hands. In
292
―F-14 Fighter: Navy Indicates Desire for More Planes,‖ Congressional Quarterly, 31 March
1973, 732, ―Duane Yorke—1973 (JBR)‖ Folder, ―Box F-14 Collection of Letters and Documents Ref F-14
and Government Officials—Early 1970s,‖ Sec A-51, NGHC.
293
Ibid.
504
February, Duane Yorke, the former Grumman Director of Supersonic Aircraft
Development, organized a group called the ―Concerned Shareholders and Employees‖
(CSE). Under Yorke‘s leadership, the CSE planned to contest three of the nine company
director positions that were up for reelection if Grumman did not bow out of the F-14
contract. They believed that the Tomcat agreement would ruin the company if the firm did
not cancel the contract. While Grumman‘s directors claimed to know nothing about the
CSE and the proxy fight, reporting in Congressional Quarterly brought the story to
Congress‘s attention. The CSE believed the company could jettison the F-14 agreement,
which it called an ―ongoing cancer,‖ and still keep the firm from going under by seeking a
bankruptcy shield from the government.294 It thought that the Navy could replace the F-14
with a modified version of the McDonnell-Douglas F-4 Phantom.295 Fortunately for
Grumman‘s directors, it looked as if the Navy and the company were close to reaching an
agreement about a new Tomcat contract.296
294
―Possible Proxy Fight Aimed at Grumman Over F-14,‖ Congressional Quarterly, 17 February
1973, March 1973, 732, ―Duane Yorke—1973 (JBR)‖ Folder, ―Box F-14 Collection of Letters and
Documents Ref F-14 and Government Officials—Early 1970s,‖ Sec A-51, NGHC.
295
296
Ibid.
That is not to say that Yorke and the CSE‘s idea about replacing the Tomcat with the F-4
Phantom was such a far-fetched idea. In 1971, the Navy had started to conduct studies to try to find a
suitable alternative to the F-14. The DoD had realized that the fixed-price contract might cause some
problems for Grumman, and it wanted to explore all of its options. However, every study concluded that
no real suitable alternative to the Tomcat existed. The reports also stated that it would be cheaper for the
Navy to just ―buy more F-14s than to buy half as many and supplement them with something else.‖ The
quote is from page 59 of Skurla‘s book. For more details on these issues, see Skurla and Gregory, Inside
the Iron Works, 58-61.
505
On March 8, 1973, Grumman and the Navy finally came to terms about the future
of the F-14 agreement.297 The following day, a headline in the New York Daily News
pointedly proclaimed ―Grumman & Navy Reach F-14 Accord and Firm is Saved.‖298
Grumman only had to deliver the remaining aircraft that the Navy had ordered in Lot 5,
and then the contract would revert back to a more conventional type of agreement—an
annual negotiation for each remaining lot of aircraft. 299 That would bring the total number
delivered to the Navy to 134; it would then procure the additional 179 aircraft detailed in
the original contract by negotiating for each lot from this point forward. 300 The Navy and
Grumman finally reached a deal because of some behind-the-scenes discussions between
Grumman Corporation President John Bierwirth and Secretary of the Navy John
Warner.301 While Bierwirth had continued to follow the company line claiming that it was
going to go bankrupt, the Navy finally agreed to new terms not in sympathy for
Grumman‘s plight, but because, quite simply, it believed the Tomcat to be the best aircraft
297
―Grumman Yields to Navy: Accepts Listed F-14 Price,‖ New York Times, 9 March 1973,
―Grumman Navy Reach Accord on F-14 Contract 3/8/73‖ Folder, ―Box F-14 Collection of Letters and
Documents Ref F-14 and Government Officials—Early 1970s,‖ Sec A-51, NGHC; Skurla and Gregory,
Inside the Iron Works, 110; and John C. Bierwirth, Survey/Questionnaire, 31 May 2000, in the author‘s
possession.
298
―Grumman & Navy Reach F-14 Accord and Firm Is Save,‖ New York Daily News, 9 March
1973, ―Grumman Navy Reach Accord on F-14 Contract 3/8/73‖ Folder, ―Box F-14 Collection of Letters
and Documents Ref F-14 and Government Officials—Early 1970s,‖ Sec A-51, NGHC.
299
Ibid; and ―Grumman Yields to Navy: Accepts Listed F-14 Price,‖ New York Times, 9 March
1973, ―Grumman Navy Reach Accord on F-14 Contract 3/8/73‖ Folder, ―Box F-14 Collection of Letters
and Documents Ref F-14 and Government Officials—Early 1970s,‖ Sec A-51, NGHC.
300
The original contract called for a total of 313 F-14s. See ibid.
301
Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 111; and Kelly, Moon Lander, 262.
506
at the time and could not get it anywhere else.302 The seafaring service had only held out
for so long because the F-14 fixed-price contract had reached a crisis during an election
year and a major budget crunch.303
Without a doubt, the renegotiation of the F-14 contract kept Grumman from going
under and temporarily saved thousands of jobs. On March 9, the day after the two sides
had reached consensus, the New York Times reported that the new contract would allow
some eight-thousand Grummanites to remain on the job, great news for Grummanites
since the company had just RIFed 350 employees the previous week. 304 While many
viewed the Navy as the firm‘s savior, that fact ignores some adjustments that the seafaring
service had been forcing on Grumman ever since the Tomcat cost overruns had begun
back in late 1970. As F-14 Program Manager George Skurla remembered about the
period, ―the Navy was saying we had too many people on the F-14 program and too much
overhead at Grumman in general. The Navy began to make noises about Grumman
restructuring, downsizing.‖305 Skurla had been in charge of the LM Program at Cape
Kennedy in the late 1960s, but the company‘s upper management called him back to
302
Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 112-113.
303
According to George Skurla, the negotiations were a bit more complicated than some think.
He recalls that Grumman essentially threatened the Navy with a lawsuit if it did not get a new contract.
Skurla claims that Bierwirth told Warner that Grumman was going to hold a board meeting to ―make one
of two decisions. Either we are going to go bankrupt and sink quietly beneath the waves. Or we are going
to go into bankruptcy and sue you for breach of contract and all the costs we‘ve incurred. I‘ve got three
law firms that tell me we‘ve got a reasonable shot on winning that case.‖ For more details, see Skurla and
Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 111.
304
―Grumman Yields to Navy: Accepts Listed F-14 Price,‖ New York Times, 9 March 1973,
―Grumman Navy Reach Accord on F-14 Contract 3/8/73‖ Folder, ―Box F-14 Collection of Letters and
Documents Ref F-14 and Government Officials—Early 1970s,‖ Sec A-51, NGHC.
305
507
Bethpage in the late winter of 1970 to oversee the F-14 Program.306 Shortly after he
returned, he began to reorganize the Tomcat staff at the Navy‘s insistence. Many of the
Navy‘s top brass had been telling the company that it had a bloated staff and Skurla
admitted that the program had ―put layer on top of layer, workers five deep when they
should have been one deep.‖307 Unfortunately, the timing of this reorganization was bad
for Grummanites, for, as Skurla noted, ―the lunar module was topping out as the F-14 was
starting to settle in the groove.‖308 In an attempt to try to stem the inevitable, some
Grumman managers tried to find slots for endangered workers. Fritz Blomback, a lower
level F-14 manager, for example, ―placed many of my people out on loan in other areas of
306
Ibid., 97.
307
For full details about the Navy‘s complaints about Grumman being overstaffed, see ibid., 98100. The quotes are from page 99.
Apparently others besides the Navy felt that Grumman had too many levels of management. As
one person with some apparent knowledge of the Grumman LM program noted, the company inflated its
personal levels considerable. In an anonymous letter to the author, this person detailed what they called
the ―squaring principle.‖ The letter says: ―During that era if one man couldn‘t solve a problem, two men
were assigned. If this still didn‘t produce a desired result then four men were assigned; hence the solution
to most problems was to introduce the ‗squaring principle.‘ People were placed into management
positions, [sic] that had difficult managing no tripping over their own feet. The ‗squaring principle‘ made
them empire builders, and as with all such empires, talent succumbed to ‗suck-ups.‘ The ‗suck-up‘ disease
once established is never eliminated…. The Cape Kennedy staffing and management was an excellent
reflection of this. There is an interesting story associated with the Cape Kennedy operation in its earliest
stages. As I understand the details: Before anyone was sent to Cape Kennedy, there was a chap in
Bethpage that did an off site equipment loading; he then was asked to do a manpower loading, based on
equipment complexity (i.e. to activate and maintain the equipment for the Apollo launches). It projected to
approximately 150 engineers. This figure was shown to the then designated site manager; it was turned
down as to high. The designated site manager state he was going to do the task with 30 souls. Fact shows
that with careful application of the ‗squaring principal‘ and personal ego the figure grow [sic] to in excess
of 500 souls; that same ‗super manager‘ went on to become Grumman Aerospace Corp. CEO.‖ See
Anonymous Letter to David H. Onkst, 31 December 1999, in the author‘s possession.
308
508
Grumman to minimize RIFs.‖309 But he had to admit, ―Eventually I had to start RIFing
people—not a very enjoyable period.‖310
Skurla later remembered just how uncomfortable the period became. He had a
difficult time laying off people. As he recalled:
Shrinking my ‗empire,‘ cutting one layer after another out
of an engineering hierarchy, had become a prime task. When
I came back to New York we must have had perhaps fiftyeight hundred people in product engineering, including
some secretaries. Roughly half that force was gone in
eighteen months. Painful! As home department vice
president, and as a company rule, I had to talk to anybody
that had more than fifteen or twenty years with the
company, and it could be agonizing. Some who had been
given notice would come to see me, often angry and very
aggressive. The best thing to do, I told them, is call on your
contacts, network inside the company, help yourself, talk to
anybody you know about another slot. Others would come
in like sheep. Looking out my window in the afternoon at
quitting time, these fellows would be carrying brown boxes,
with all their stuff, slide rules, desk things. It wasn‘t hard to
imagine what kind of night they would have once they got
home and had to tell their families.311
His comments reveal just how the downsizing decimated the company. They also illustrate
how difficult it was for RIFed workers, sometimes twenty-year employees, to leave their
lifelong careers.
The downsizing of the F-14 Program signaled a fundamental shift in Grumman‘s
management philosophy; the company had given in to pressures from the Navy and
309
310
Ibid.
311
Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 98-99. For another Grummanite‘s view of the
Navy pressing the company to cut its overhead costs, see George L. Daelemans, Jr., Survey/Questionnaire,
31 January 2000, in the author‘s possession.
509
essentially been browbeaten into laying off employees. In the past, Grumman would have
found a way to move workers from one department to another, from one project to
another, rather than pink-slip them. Now with F-14 cost overruns endangering the firm‘s
future, and the downsizing of the aerospace industry in general setting in, Grumman‘s
managers had to accept the fact that layoffs were going to become the new norm. The
economic realities of the early 1970s eroded that sense of paternalism that had
characterized Grumman for so long. A new corporate reality was quickly coming to the
forefront, one in which the bottom line was more important than individual Grumman
workers.
Shortly after the settlement of the F-14 contract dispute, Grumman finally got
word about some definitive Shuttle subcontracting work. On March 29, 1973, NAR
awarded the Bethpage firm a $40 million contract to build the wings for the Space Shuttle
Program‘s five orbiters. Grumman‘s neighbor, the Fairchild Corporation, which now
owned Republic, received a $13 million award to build the Shuttle‘s vertical stabilizers, or
tail. Based on projections, when production of the Space Shuttle hit full stride the
following year, the wing project would employ some five to six-hundred Grummanites.312
Grumman‘s District Representative Congressman Angelo Roncallo, had tried to get
emergency funding for unemployed aerospace workers the previous year; NAR‘s awards
312
Richard Witkin, ―L.I. Concerns Get Space Contracts,‖ New York Times, 29 March 1973,
―Clippings 1973,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC; Chapin A. Day, ―Shuttle Contracts: Not
Astronomical,‖ Newsday, 30 March 1973, ―Clippings 1973,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC;
Mitchell R. Freedman and Dick Seelmeyer, ―Grumman Land Subcontract,‖ Long Island Press, 29 March
1973, ―Clippings 1973,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC; Heppenheimer, The Space Shuttle
Decision, 434; Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 93; and Kelly, Moon Lander, 261.
510
―greatly pleased‖ him because he felt that it would contribute to ―the stabilities of these
corporations‖ and provide ―substantial rollback in projected layoffs.‖ 313 As a Grumman
spokesman quickly corrected, however, the award was essentially ―negligible‖ and would
―not have an effect on the 1,000 we said [last week] would be laid off.‖ 314 The company
had already planned to cut another thousand workers by year‘s end. In March 1973,
Grumman had approximately 22,500 employees on its payroll. Although the Space Shuttle
contract provided a bit of ―a psychological boost‖ to the company, in essence, it had taken
too long to secure.315 It was too little, too late, to save many Grummanites‘ jobs. As
Newsday characterized it, ―Shuttle Contracts: Not Astronomical.‖316
Six months after the renegotiation of the F-14 contract, Newsday reported, ―The
Look at Grumman—Better but Not Yet Rosy.‖317 Although the new Tomcat agreement
had kept the company from bankruptcy, the firm was still going through troubled times.
Ever since Towl‘s ―close the doors‖ speech almost a year-and-a-half earlier, Grumman
could not get commercial banks to lend it money, and the company was forced to rely on
the Navy to provide short-term loans to keep the company afloat. As a result—as Skurla
and others have noted—―the Navy [had] greater-than-usual control over corporate
313
Chapin A. Day, ―Shuttle Contracts: Not Astronomical,‖ Newsday, 30 March 1973, ―Clippings
1973,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
314
Ibid.
315
Richard Witkin, ―L.I. Concerns Get Space Contracts,‖ New York Times, 29 March 1973,
―Clippings 1973,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
316
Chapin A. Day, ―Shuttle Contracts: Not Astronomical,‖ Newsday, 30 March 1973, ―Clippings
1973,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
317
Chapin A. Day, ―The Look at Grumman—Better but Not Yet Rosy,‖ Newsday, 20 August
1973, ―Clippings 1973,‖ ―Box 5 Newsclippings,‖ Sect A-61, NGHC.
511
affairs.‖318 At this time, Grumman still had to repay another 25% of its $54 million loan to
the Navy. With the company still indebted to the government, Grumman remained
unprofitable.319 Technically, it would be another year before the firm secured the contract
that really saved it. In 1974, the Shah of Iran signed a $2 billion agreement for eighty F14s. Ironically, it would be this contract that rescued the company; some referred to it as a
―lifeline.‖320 One of the key men responsible for brokering the agreement was John ―Jack‖
Bierwirth, The Grumman Corporation‘s new President, a man who brought different ideas
and ways of doing things to the Bethpage company.
Bierwirth represented a new type of leader at Grumman. His background and
focus differed greatly from Grumman‘s past presidents. Although Lew Evans had been a
Grumman outsider, Evans had come from the Navy‘s Bureau of Aeronautics, a group that
Grumman had forged a ―familial relationship‖ with over the years.321 Bierwirth, on the
other hand, came to Grumman from a field totally outside of aerospace. A lawyer by
training, his first interaction with the company was to serve on Grumman‘s Board of
318
Ibid.
319
One positive outcome of the F-14 resolution was that Grumman hired some 200 more
employees for the production floor between March and August. While that was definitely good news for
some, the hard fact was that the number of Grumman engineers had dropped significantly, a factor that
some recognized would affect ―the overall engineering capability‖ at the company. For more details, see
ibid.
320
For the full story of F-14 Iranian contract, see ―Chapter 8, Iran: A Lifeline for the F-14,‖ in
Skurla and Gregory, Inside the Iron Works, 114-130. Also see Thruelsen, The Grumman Story, 374; and
N. Roy Tegner, Survey/Questionnaire, 20 January 2000; George Melzer, Survey/Questionnaire, 20
November 1999; William F. Kiesel, IV, Survey/Questionnaire, undated (circa November1999 – April
2000; Robert Ionescu, Survey/Questionnaire, 1 December 1999; and Eugene J. Coll,
Survey/Questionnaire, 27 January 2000. All in the author‘s possession.
321
For the idea of Grumman‘s ―familial relationship‖ with the Navy‘s Bureau of Aeronautics,
see, generally, Kucera, ―Grumman Aircraft Engineering Corporation and its ‗Familial‘ Relationship.‖
512
Directors for two years while continuing to work as the Executive Vice President of the
National Distillers and Chemical Corporation, a firm headed by his father, which
specialized in ―products ranging from booze to brass.‖322 Bierwirth officially joined
Grumman as an employee in July 1972 as the Vice President of Finance, within days of
Evans‘s death.323 In November of that year, Grumman Corporation President Clinton
Towl appointed the forty-eight-year old Bierwirth as his successor; Towl had stepped
down to spend more time with his terminally ill wife. Bierwirth believed that his main
mission as president was to diversify the company. He had correctly determined that the
firm‘s past fate had been directly tied to government cont

the triumph and decline of the "squares": grumman aerospace

Transcription

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