The Fast Times of Albert Champion

by Peter Joffre Nye

  While Chevrolet had more experience, Burman was six years younger and had taken a direct route to Buick. His start in the business had been painting wooden wheels of Durant’s Blue Ribbon carriages.38 Then, when Durant took over Buick, Burman tested some early models.39 The Man encouraged him to tear around Flint’s early morning, traffic-free streets to see how fast he could make the Buicks run and how they held up. Burman, slim and athletic, with big hands, entered a race around Detroit’s Grosse Pointe horse track.40 He was allowed to compete after several no-shows had reduced the field, and he drove against Barney Oldfield. Burman was out of his depth, yet he wasn’t intimidated. His cheerful recklessness when driving had led to his nickname, Wild Bob.

  Self-taught, Wild Bob lacked Chevrolet’s sophistication. Wild Bob pressed his right foot on the gas pedal as though standing on one leg. His arms alternated turning the steering wheel left into the next turn then back to the right for the straight. He once explained that when the car held together, he won running wide open,41 “or it breaks and I lose.”42

  At the Indianapolis Motor Speedway in May 1910, the year before the Indy 500 race made its debut, Burman snapped goggles over his eyes, stood on the gas pedal of his Bug, and recorded a thunderous105.8 mph.43 He won the prestigious Prest-O-Lite Trophy Race. That helped burnish the Bug’s reputation as the fastest American-made car, conveniently overlooking the Frenchman whose company produced the ignition parts firing the engine.

  Between publicity from the Buick racing team and increasing consumer demand for autos, Albert Champion managed to stay ahead of the propulsive growth in demand for Champion Ignition Company spark plugs, magnetos, and coils. His products were delivered on time to meet auto production schedules. Champion’s goods were factory-installed in General Motors’ Buicks, Cadillacs, and Oldsmobiles. Production in 1909 had more than doubled to twenty-four thousand,44 led by Buick, which made up the lion’s share. The next year production jumped 50 percent more,45 in part from GM acquiring the Oakland Motor Company (predecessor to Pontiac Motor Company).

  Phenomenal surging demand for Champion’s products led to hiring new hands by the droves. The original operation on the third floor of the Buick Motor Company, where his outfit had started with fifteen men, grew cramped. His company kept adding more workers and occupied a whole floor. Champion requested a building of his own.

  Champion launched his twelve-hour workdays by seating himself at his desk by six o’clock.46 He plowed through a mountain of paperwork and took care of a mass of details. Some days he left his desk only for lunch in the cafeteria. Now and then he strode around the shop floor, invariably accompanied by his right-hand man Basil De Guichard,47 to monitor the production line. Over the decades, employees remembered the two Frenchmen as being as different from one another as chalk and cheese. Champion had a forceful personality, impatient and demanding, while De Guichard was even-tempered and tactful. Stories were passed down about Champion firing laborers on the spot if he felt they were slacking at their workstations, only to demand the next day to know why the workstation was vacant. Champion was strict about keeping production on schedule, and he expected his money’s worth from wages he paid. De Guichard would track down the dismissed employee and offer his job back, presumably encouraging the worker to improve his output. Champion made a vivid impression on the shop floor, looking sharp in a pressed suit and shined shoes, sometimes giving laborers helpful pointers. They called him The Chief.48

  Elise endowed their Flint home with a Parisian ambience. On weekends the Champions hosted De Guichard, the Chevrolet clan, including Louis and Suzanne’s infant son, and extra compatriots. They chatted over meals in a nonstop gush of French while emptying cases of imported wine.

  Albert and Louis had much in common—an intense passion for speed, the same birth year, and the rarely used middle name Joseph. They had set a fair number of world records although they were best remembered for one or two—Albert as the first to drive a motorcycle a mile under a minute and Louis steering an American car with a Darracq engine along the hard-packed shoreline of Daytona-Ormond Beach, Florida, in 1906 to the absolute world record of 119 mph.49 They had survived high-speed crashes that put them in hospitals, sometimes convalescing for weeks. Louis would tally a good three years recovering from crash-related injuries.50 Both men carried so many scars on their bodies they could regale an audience over drinks with a catalogue of outrageous stories about broken bones and mangled machines, enough yarns to consume an entire evening and stretch into the night. It was inevitable that they would go into business together.

  The booming Flint economy strained Flint’s infrastructure. Between 1908, the year of Champion’s arrival, and 1910, the number of factory wage earners had tripled to fifteen thousand.51 Auto production in 1910 in Flint reached thirty thousand—almost matching the output of Henry Ford’s Model T.52 Nearly all the finished cars were loaded onto trains bound for Kansas City, St. Louis, New York, San Francisco, and elsewhere. Few remained in town—only one hundred autos were licensed in Flint.53 To accommodate the influx of laborers, farms left and right were subdivided to erect new houses. The town added seven square miles.54

  In the summer of 1910, however, auto production halted. General Motors had run out of operating capital and fell into a financial crisis. Plans for Champion’s new plant were put on hold. The Buick racing program was drastically scaled back. The unthinkable happened—pressure mounted for Durant’s ouster.

  During Durant’s six years managing the Buick Motor Company, he enjoyed incomparable success. Unflagging energy and his love of making deals propelled him on round-the-clock workdays. In the period when he began negotiating to purchase the Olds Motor Works prior to filing the incorporation papers for General Motors, his schedule was so crowded that he only got around to touring the factory one weekday at 3 a.m.55

  After Champion joined Durant in Flint, The Man acquired more than twenty car and accessory companies—a brisk rate of purchasing all or majority ownership of at least one manufacturer or supplier every month.56 The parts businesses were in cities chiefly around Michigan but also in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York because Durant wanted to guarantee a continual flow of parts to support the GM network.

  Part of Durant’s charm was audacious faith in the future of automobiles. Over dinner one evening in 1906 with his carriage-making partner Josiah Dallas Dort and old friend Charlie Nash, Durant delivered a soliloquy about future growth of motorcars. He forecast the day was coming when one auto company alone might sell a hundred thousand cars or more in a year.57 Nash and Dort looked at each other in silence.58 Finally, Nash said, “Dallas, Billy’s crazy.”59 Between friends, Nash and Dort didn’t think Durant was moon-struck foolish but rather crazy like a prophet.

  After General Motors was incorporated, he predicted that one year America would produce three hundred thousand autos.60 The pronouncement shocked conservative bankers, especially in the East.61 They were wary that most car companies were grossly undercapitalized, executives like Durant were dreamers, and autos were a passing fad like bicycles, which had caused many companies to lose money when consumer demand collapsed.

  A journalist wrote in a profile of Durant that he impressed strangers as a man with intense but perfectly controlled energy.62 One of The Man’s hires was Alfred P. Sloan, destined to lead General Motors as its chief executive officer when it turned into the biggest auto company in the world, described Durant as sweet natured and well intended. “It was just Billy Durant’s way. You accepted it, and perhaps liked it because you liked him.”63

  Durant’s arrival to a factory he owned was compared to the visitation of a cyclone.64 He strode through the door with staff trailing like pilot fish. As soon as he found a desk with a telephone, he took a seat, removed his suit jacket, and settled in. He held the phone with the mouthpiece in one hand, the other holding the receiver to his ear, and alternated politely issuing a flow of instructions to people around him and placing long-distance phone calls through the operator t
o dealerships and suppliers from New York to San Francisco, talking in his relaxed, confident manner. Long-distance phone calls were still considered unusual. The Man no sooner ended one phone conversation than he told the operator another number for his next call. It seemed natural that he had to speak to so many people so far apart. He alone kept the expanding GM system together. The numbers and names and details he kept in his head, conversing at a rate that would outpace his stenographer,65 riveting everyone in his presence, making them feel as though they had a front-row seat to watch a compelling actor alone on stage. After some time, Durant would hang up the phone, set it back on the desk, and announce, “Well, we’re off to Flint.” He’d stand up, don his jacket, and lead his entourage out the door.

  Some of Durant’s acquisitions rated solid gold, including the Champion Ignition Company,66 Buick, and Cadillac. Others had patents that might prove useful, such as the Elmore Manufacturing Company, which produced Elmore cars. Too many, however, had either cost far more than they were worth, failed to meet expectations, or were liabilities. To complicate matters, management and accounting methods from company to company were uneven.67

  The holding company, General Motors, was responsible for the bills rather than the twenty-plus individual businesses. Durant had been gliding along on his salesman’s steadfast confidence, persuasive optimism, and access to local funding. General Motors had expanded so far that during the summer of 1910 it no longer had the money to finance expansions and buy supplies. Buick employees were laid off by the thousands.68 Factories were down to skeleton crews. The Cadillac Motor Company was doing well enough on its own that two Detroit banks agreed to loan $500,000 to meet payroll.69 Shares of GM stock plummeted from around $100 to $25,70 and GM was removed from the New York Stock Exchange.

  General Motors was engulfed in panic. The only way out for Durant was to accept a bailout for GM from a banking syndicate in Boston and New York. Eastern bankers acknowledged for the first time that the auto industry had potential. The Man had to accept harsh terms in order to save the company he had founded. After weeks of negotiations, the bankers agreed to supply a $15 million loan to GM at 6 percent interest over five years—$12.75 million for GM to pay its bills and stay in business and $2.25 million paid to the bankers.71 The syndicate required full control of GM and insisted that Durant be expelled.

  The announcement of the terms soon restored investor and consumer confidence in GM.72 The value of GM stock shares rose in private trading.73 The Buick plant returned to full production. Buick finished 1910 with another jump from the year before—producing nearly twenty-one thousand vehicles,74 more than half of the more than thirty-six thousand total with Cadillac, Oakland, and Oldsmobile.75

  Louis Chevrolet retired from racing in October.76 He reminded Durant of his intention to build a new car.

  Days before Thanksgiving of 1910, however, Durant was dismissed from directing GM. He was about to turn forty-nine and the big, complicated enterprise he had created was going on without him. The bankers holding the mortgage knew nothing about automobiles, yet they would retrench GM. The bankers closed down the Elmore Manufacturing Company along with a slew of other unprofitable ventures. Durant had no say about what the bankers did.

  Rather than feel defeated, The Man saw a new opportunity open up. He held a substantial amount of GM stock. Under the bankers’ settlement, he remained a GM vice president and served on GM’s board as a member of the finance committee. He also had many allies in the Flint business community willing to join his next venture.

  The Man intended to regain General Motors after the bankers let go of their hold in five years. He needed a new automobile. Louis Chevrolet was ready to build him such a new car.

  In 1905 the Society of Automotive Engineers had been founded by like-minded auto manufacturers seeking to protect their patents,77 solve common technical design problems, and develop engineering standards. SAE’s first vice president was Henry Ford.78 By 1910 SAE was headquartered in New York City. Its leaders invited Albert Champion to personally guide them on their first international trip to meet auto executives in France, England, Belgium, and Germany.79

  Champion’s summons may have been recommended by Charles Stewart Mott, manager of the Weston-Mott Company in Flint, which manufactured wheels and axles for General Motors. Charlie Mott, then in his mid-thirties, would serve sixty years on the GM board until his death at ninety-seven in 1973.80 For decades he was the corporation’s largest stockholder and one of America’s wealthiest men.81 In 1910 his factory was near Champion’s operation. He valued the Frenchman’s electrical ignition products and knew he could count on his cooperation for the notable trip to the continent.

  Mott and Champion had widely different backgrounds but they played critical manufacturing roles in the buildup of Buick and General Motors, as a result William Durant had covered all expenses to move their businesses to Flint. Mott had grown up in Utica, New York, where his family owned a plant that produced bicycle wheels. Young Charlie would have gone cycling with Charles Herman Metz, founder of the company that paid Champion’s expenses to immigrate. Mott had studied engineering at the Stevens Institute in Brooklyn (predecessor to the Stevens Institute of Technology).82 In 1900 he expanded the family business to produce car wheels and axles that gained a national reputation for quality.

  Durant had lured Mott’s business to Flint in 1906,83 with expenses,84 and had offered to construct a building for the Weston-Mott Company alongside a new huge Buick Motor Company factory. The two facilities on the north side of town shared offices and a powerhouse containing a 450-horsepower generator and a pair of engines with 300-horsepower each to provide electricity to operate the most modern machinery. Durant paid $45,000 to build the Weston-Mott plant and $75,000 for the Buick factory. Mott brought about one hundred employees with him.85 The Buick Company drew several hundred mechanics and their families. Durant’s factories introduced vertical integration in the auto industry,86 a just-in-time delivery system for parts (a concept upon which Japanese industry would later increase.)

  Mott had a reputation for methodical thinking.87 He approached problems by gathering the facts. Mott saw an advantage in SAE membership. He was then influenced by SAE member Henry M. Leland’s international coup. Its magnitude encouraged Mott and fellow masterminds to recruit Albert Champion as their guide for a trans-Atlantic expedition.

  Henry Leland embodied New England machine-shop craftsmanship and Midwest pluckiness. Born in a Vermont village, he had come of age during the Civil War when firearm factories in Massachusetts and Connecticut had refined the practice of machining tools and parts to within one-thousandth of an inch.88 Precision tooling opened the way for interchangeability of parts, essential for mass manufacturing of guns. Leland had trained as a skilled mechanic at the Federal Arsenal in Springfield, Massachusetts, and the Colt revolver factory in Hartford, Connecticut, and he’d worked twenty years at the famous Brown and Sharpe Manufacturing Company in Providence, Rhode Island.89 In 1890 he moved to Detroit.

  Leland stood out as a displaced flinty New Englander. He had not an extra ounce of fat and his shirts hung loose on narrow shoulders. His full head of hair had turned white as a birch tree. A broom-like beard and droopy mustache against shaved cheeks gave him the look of a sorcerer. Leland had made an engine for Ransom Olds, but Olds had used his own motor. A group of Detroit investors cherished Leland’s superior engine and underwrote his founding the Cadillac Automobile Company. The name honored the French expedition leader who had founded the settlement of Detroit, Antoine Sieur de la Mothe de Cadillac. The company adopted the Frenchman’s family coat of arms for its emblem.90 Cadillac’s company slogan decreed: “Craftsmanship a Creed, Accuracy a Law.”91

  That claim had been tested in 1908 in England. The London agency that imported Cadillacs for sale in the United Kingdom had submitted three from its stock to compete for the esteemed Dewar Trophy, an annual loving cup made of silver, awarded by the Royal Automobile Club of England for the car tha
t had most advanced the industry.92 The Dewar Trophy had been donated by the Scotch whiskey family and was the auto industry’s equivalent to the Nobel Prize.

  The three Cadillacs were driven twenty-five miles by RAC members to the Brooklands track where RAC mechanics completely dismantled the cars and scrambled everything into a single pile. A different RAC team, using only hand tools—wrench, hammer, pliers, and screwdriver—put the vehicles back together. Three other RAC members drove the reconstituted Cadillacs 500 miles around the Brooklands track. All three autos ran impeccably. Against considerable competition, Cadillac won the Dewar Trophy for flawless parts interchangeability.

  Capturing the Dewar Trophy, a loving cup large enough to hold an infant, had given US autos in England tremendous credibility. The attendant acclaim in the press did much to overcome the prejudice against the poorly made American cars that had been dumped on an unsuspecting English market.93 Leland’s Cadillacs had opened the potential for greater US exports.

  In October 1911 Albert and Elise sailed together, accompanied by two dozen SAE members,94 including Mott and automakers Frederick S. Duesenberg and Harry Stutz,95 from New York to Liverpool. They sailed across what Champion and his compatriots lightheartedly called La Mare aux Harengs, the Sea of Herrings.

  On the eight-week trip, SAE members spent the most time in London, establishing a close liaison with the British Institution of Automotive Engineers. Then to Paris, Berlin, and Antwerp. At the time it was unusual for a wife to accompany her husband on a business trip. Elise was the exception because she helped with translating to enhance business rapport wherever the group went. She and Albert educated the Americans about the use of different foreign currencies from country to country and assisted them to get what they needed in restaurants and hotels.