One day in 1916, Hearst's sententious Editor Arthur Brisbane was on his way to interview Henry Ford in Manhattan when he saw a policeman dragging a small, hard-faced U.S. sailor out of the Customs House. The sailor, just released from the Navy after a seven-year hitch, had got in a quarrel with customs men, and was knocking them down right & left until the cop subdued him. Editor Brisbane liked the bantam gamecock's looks, got him released, and took him along to meet the auto magnate. On hearing Brisbane's account of the battle, Ford told 24-year-old Harry Bennett: "I can use a young man like you at the Rouge . . . Can you shoot?"
From this chance meeting, ex-Navy Boxer Harry Bennett became Henry Ford's closest companion for the remainder of the automaker's life, closer even than Ford's only son, Edsel. He was actually running the Ford empire in 1945 when young Henry Ford II stepped in and got rid of him.
For six years, at his ranch in California, Bennett has smarted at the growing legend that he was the evil genius behind everything that was criticized in the old Ford regime. Last week, in a 25¢ paper book entitled We Never Called Him Henry, co-written by Free-Lance Writer Paul Marcus, tight-lipped Harry Bennett finally broke his silence, explaining: "I want to try to set the record straight." Nobody but Bennett knows how straight his version of the record is (several publishers in Manhattan were afraid to publish the book). In putting his best foot forward, Bennett freely knees and heels his former associates. Nevertheless, he provides the most intimate look yet given at the astonishing way the Ford empire was run for 30 years, and the compelling drive, whims and strange mental processes of the genius who ran it.
Strings & Diapers. One of the first things Ford told Bennett was: "Harry, never try to outguess me." Said Bennett: "You mean never try to understand you?" Replied Ford: "That's close enough."
Like other company brass, Bennett was kept dependent on Ford, who never paid him much. Says Bennett: "I got peanuts for a salary for 28 of the 30 years." Ford often rewarded Bennett and others with unexpected gifts (new homes, new cars, refrigerators), but often took the gifts away. "Never," he explained to Bennett, "give anything without strings attached to it." But Ford sought his executives within the plant: when an engineer told him he needed a metallurgist, Ford pointed to a man sweeping the floor and said: "Make one out of that fellow." (The sweeper became a good metallurgist.)
In running the company, Ford brooked opposition from no one. Once, says Bennett, Edsel, over Ford's objections, decided to build a row of coke ovens. Ford told Bennett: "Harry, as soon as Edsel gets those ovens built I'm going to tear them down." And, says Bennett, Ford did.