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Model "X." Any lingering America-Firstism in Henry Ford's soul was bombed away at Pearl Harbor. Like any good Midwesterner, Henry Ford hit the roof when the U.S. was attacked. He called in his executives and said (weeks before the new War Production Board ordered auto production stopped): "We might as well quit making cars now." The same week he piled some of his aides into an automobile, made a tour of the whole Dearborn empire. At each building he discussed what was made there, at each building ordered: "Get a defense job going in there quick."
Henry Ford is happier and younger than he was two years ago. He lost his fight against New Deal labor policies; after a strike and a court decision that he had violated the Wagner Act, he signed a contract with the United Automobile Workers last year. But he lost in his own peculiar way: once he had made up his mind, he called in his labor-herder, Harry Bennett, asked what the union wanted. He knew what he wanted. Said Henry Ford: "Why in the hell don't we give it [the union shop and checkoff] to them now and save all that trouble? We've got to get ahead with some work around here."
Twice in one lifetime he lost his fight against war. He lost that in his own peculiar way, too. All Henry Ford's talents, all the empire he has built in his 78 years, all his acres and masonry, locomotives and ships, are dedicated to winning it.
Now he even sees, in World War II, a hope for a better world to come. Once again he can see his old dream of a world federation, with the industry and agriculture of all nations combining to make a better place to live.
"We didn't make any money out of the last war and we don't want to make any money out of this one. If we come out with as much as we went in, we'll be doing all right. . . .
"The more we produce, the quicker it will be over and the sooner we can get back to the job of building up the country. . . .
"Sure the war has a value. We'll learn to do a lot of things better than we were ever able to do them before. . . .
"All these big new defense plants will be used after the war to meet the needs of the people. We never had plant enough to do it before, but now we will have."
On such a day, when the U.S. has "plant enough," the nation will need something else, 100-more men like Henry Ford: individualistic, cocky, lively, curious and productive.
With his farmer's spare frame, his mechanic's hands, his stubborn chin and his restless eyes, his quick opinions, his respect for makers and the things they make, his dual personality and his rebellion against orders, Henry Ford is more like most Americans than most Americans realize. Henry Ford and his empire have converted themselves to war. The whole automobile industry has gone to war. Detroit—and not only its Henry Fords but its Bud Goodmans and Frank Morisettes and Eddie Hunts and Roscoe Smiths—had gone to war. The whole U.S. nation was going to roll up its sleeves and fix Armageddon.