MAKING HISTORY Quarks, Neutrinos, and Virtual Perfection: Interviews with Robert W. Galvin and Leon M. Lederman Timothy J. Gilfoyle Editor's Note: In June 1995, the Chicago Historical Society bestowed its first annual Making History Awards on a group ofChicagoans who have made historic contributions to the city. The inaugural group included Gwendolyn Brooks, John Hope Franklin, Robert W. Galvin, Leon Led­ erman, Judge Abraham Lincoln Marovitz, and Studs Terkel. Historian Timothy Gilfoyle has been conducting interviews with each of the honorees and, in the first of a series of articles, he explores the lives and careers of businessman Robert W. Galvin, former chairman of Motorola, Inc., and Professor Leon Lederman. At first glance, Leon M. Lederman and Robert W. Galvin have little in common. Lederman—a Nobel Prize-winning physicist, raised in the Bronx by Russian immigrants, educated at Columbia University—has devoted the entirety of his professional life to the academy as a research scientist, laboratory director, and university professor. Robert Galvin, in contrast, was born and bred in the Midwest, the scion and heir-apparent of the founder of Motorola, Above: Paul Galvin holding his two- Inc. As a seven-year-old, Galvin accompanied his father to com­ year-old son Robert, 1924. pany meetings and business trips across the country. If anyone ever was, Robert Galvin was "born" to be a corporate president. Below: Undated photograph of Paul and Robert Galvin. As a youngster, A closer examination, however, uncovers common ground in Robert often accompanied his father these seemingly disparate careers in science and industry. As on business trips. youths, for instance, both were born into devoted families of modest means. Paul Galvin's later success in manufacturing was not so apparent when his only child was born in 1922. "My father and mother [Lillian Galvin] moved to a little town in Wisconsin where I was born," remembers Robert Galvin. "In that commu­ nity, he had gone to work with one of his boyhood acquaintances, . but that company went bankrupt in the course of the early months of my life in that little town. So my father and mother had to motor pennilessly to an aunt and uncle on the South Side [of Chicago], and that's where they kind of established our family, and gradually he caught on to having a means of taking care of my mother and myself." Timothy J. Gilfoyle is an associate professor of history at Loyola University Chicago, a scholar-in-residence at the Newberry Library, and the author of'City of Eros: New York City, Prostitution and the Commercialization of Sex, 1790-1920 (W.W. Norton, 1992). 56 Galvin describes his father's entrepreneurial sensibility as Above left: Robert and Paul Galvin, "almost genetic—he always knew he wanted to be in business." c. 1950. By 1956, the younger When Paul Galvin's partner elected to restart the company in Galvin was president of Motorola. Chicago, he joined him again. "And in not too many early years, Above: Robert presented Motorola's the man's company went bankrupt," recalls Galvin. "On this occa­ "Twenty-Five-Year Service Pin" to his sion, however, there was a . product line of that company that father on October 24, 1953. had very inexpensive tools .... And my father acquired the tools at auction, walked across the street, literally, with about a half a dozen people, . and started a little company to make the battery eliminators." So began Motorola. Lederman endured few of the economic insecurities and early failures that beset the Galvins. The Bronx, he remembers, "was a great place. It was a good place to grow up. I had schools within a few blocks of the house, a public school and a high school [were] nearby. I had friends. We had a wonderful city [New York] we could wander around in. There was no problem about traveling around the city, going into the subway and trying to get lost and coming out some unknown place and finding out it was a province called Brooklyn. The schools were excellent. The teachers were very well educated and dedicated, and I remember many of them as being stimulating, exciting. That was a wonderful time to grow up." 57 Chicago History, Summer 1996 Robert Galvin was only six when, in 1928, his father founded the Galvin Manufacturing Corporation at 847 West Harrison Street. The market for battery eliminators, however, was quickly evapo­ rating, as their main application for use in battery-operated home radios became obsolete. So Paul Galvin moved the company into an entirely new product line—the car radio. What was an unheard of Above left: Father and son share and high-risk innovation in 1930 soon became commonplace in the lunch in the Motorola cafeteria, expanding car culture sweeping the United States. The "first com­ 1954. Above: Robert Galvin with one mercial auto radio" was the "Motorola," a name signifying both of his teammates on an Evanston soft- motion and the radio. The Motorola's popularity convinced Paul ball team, 1957. Galvin played Galvin to rename the company after it in 1947. second base. After growing up in Rogers Park and Evanston, Robert Galvin Below: Paul and Robert Galvin dis­ attended the University of Notre Dame for two years before joining cussing portable radio and chassis, the Army Signal Corps in 1942. At the end of World War II, c. 1955. he returned to his father's company, working first as a stock boy and eventually as a production-line troubleshooter. Galvin quickly advanced within the ranks before being pro­ moted to executive vice presi­ dent in 1948 and president in 1956, only three years before his father died. When Robert Galvin as­ sumed control, Motorola was a $227-million-a-year company manufacturing car radios, walkie-talkies, solid-state color televisions, and phonographs. Over the ensuing three de­ cades, he transformed Mo- 58 Making History torola into an $ 11 -billion-a-year giant in electronics, employing over one hundred thousand people. Like his father more than a half-century earlier, Galvin completely abandoned several product lines for others. By 1990, Motorola had jettisoned its television business and was the leading manufacturer of two-way radios, cel­ lular phones, pagers, and advanced dispatch systems for commer­ cial fleets. It was the fourth-largest maker of semiconductors. Unlike IBM, which faltered upon entering a new technological phase (moving from mainframe computers to personal com­ puters), Motorola nimbly moved from conventional two-way radios and TVs to cellular radios and pagers. Motorola's success generated political appointments for Galvin. In 1970, he served on the President's Commission for International Trade and Investment. From 1982 to 1985, Galvin chaired the Industry Policy Advisory Committee to the U.S. Special Representa­ tive to the Multilateral Trade Negotiations. During that time, Motorola attacked Jap­ anese producers for "dump­ ing" cellular phones in the United States, a charge later upheld by the International Trade Commission. Galvin was later credited as a key architect in opening up the Japanese semiconductor mar­ ket in 1986. In 1990, Galvin retired as Motorola's chairman, but re­ mains involved in long-term corporate planning as the head of Motorola's executive committee. Since then, he has been inducted into the National Carl Lindholm, Robert Galvin, and Business Hall of Fame and received the National Medal of Tech­ Bo Yibo, Vice Chairman of the Cen­ nology. Just prior to his retirement as chairman, Galvin was tral Advisory Committee of the named one of the first recipients of the Malcolm Baldridge People's Republic of China, October National Quality Award from the Department of Commerce 1986. (1989), specifically for making products with zero imperfections. Indeed, future historians will most likely equate Galvin's tenure at Motorola with "virtual perfection." In 1978, after general sales manager Art Sundry pointed out numerous poor features in Motorola's product line, Galvin began emphasizing "total quality." In his words, Motorola adopted "a culture of intending that we never do anything that would dissatisfy the customer." Proponents sometimes referred to this as the "six sigma" philosophy. According to Galvin, "a sigma is a standard deviation from norm, and in statistical quality control parlance, if you can . build . a product or a service to where all the variations stay within six standard deviations from norm and fit your specifications, you will 59 Chicago History, Summer 1996 In 1988, President Ronald Reagan presented Galvin with the Malcolm Baldridge National Quality Award (below). Left: Galvin addresses the U.S. Department of Commerce audi­ ence after the presentation. have only 3.4 items outside the range of every million of some­ thing you do. This translates into, when you finally work the system right, a quality level of 3.4 defects per million. And we call that 'virtual perfection.'" Galvin admits that Motorola examined the ideas of W. Edwards Deming and other postwar industrial theorists, but in the end "we finally came up with . our own system. We were just either screwy enough or different enough [to] ... let ourselves develop our own system." Virtual perfection departed dramatically from the scientific management techniques developed by Frederick Winslow Taylor early in the twentieth century. According to Galvin, "the six sigma systems . are quite different from the Taylor advocacy. An overly simplified way of characterizing the Taylor approach was that it was a top-down phenomenon. If I measured your time, I could figure out how to tell you how to use your time better, and I would think of a system, and then I'd ask—I'd require—you to use my system." Whereas Taylorism broke down and measured factory floor production to the individual worker, Motorola organized workers into independent "self-directed teams." According to Galvin, the teams "have no supervisor.