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The Ghost. Never has Detroit seen an auto executive like Romney. In an industry noted for hard drinking and tough talk, Romney does not drink (not even tea or coffee), or smoke or swear. He is the president (i.e., bishop) of the Detroit stake of twelve Mormon churches, was the leader in building a new $750,000 Mormon tabernacle in suburban Bloomfield Hills. He gives 10% of his $100,000 salary, and sometimes more, to the church. He reserves his Sundays exclusively for church activities, often travels to other Mormon churches to set up conferences or deliver sermons.
"My religion," says Romney, "is my most precious possession. Except for it, I could easily have become excessively occupied with industry. Sharing responsibility for church work has been a vital counterbalance in my life."
Romney keeps his athletic frame (5 ft. 11 in., 175 lbs.) in top shape ("Our body is the temple of our spirit"), plays competitive sports with his two sons, Mitt, 12, and Scott, 17 (his two daughters are married ). The Romneys live in a $150,000 modern Swiss-chalet house (with a waterfall in back) that he built last year in fashionable Bloomfield Hills. (When he invited the auto industry brass for a housewarming, one G.M. wife remarked dryly: "George, you've bought yourself quite a gas guzzler.") He begins his day at 5 a.m., uses the first daylight hours, except when snow is on the ground, to play solitary golf with luminous balls at a country club next to his home. He keeps no score, dashes up and lunges at the ball, then chases it across the fairway at a fast jog. Caddies call him "the ghost."
He makes his daily 20-mile trip from home to office in about half an hour (most of his colleagues would rather walk than ride with him), rolls up his shirtsleeves for the day's work. American Motors headquarters is perhaps the most relaxed and informal in Detroit's auto industry. Romney often leaves his modest office (18 ft. by 18 ft.) to drop in on executives down the corridor. When he has anything important to say, he is not above calling them together, sitting down on the back of a chair to give a talk.
Once, while attending a musical in Manhattan with other company executives, he drafted the announcement of a major reorganization of American's divisions between the acts, using an aide's shoulder as his desk. When the British Broadcasting Corp. recently asked him to take part in a small-car panel, and submitted a list of ten questions beforehand, Romney summoned an aide. The aide began briefing him, but Romney cut him short. "Never mind the answers," he said. "Just give me the questions."
Change in Thinking. One big question for which Romney thinks he can create his own answer is the fate of American Motors after the Big Three roll out their compact cars. "They will come in partially at first," says Romney, "at about the same volume at which we operate. But sooner or later they will be in on an all-out basis, with no holds barred. If we are right, they will have no alternative."