Putting his profit-sharing plan into effect was not a simple matter of writing the checks. He had to educate not only other employers, but his own men as well. They must be taught the proper way to use money, so that it would not be a detriment to themselves or a menace to society in general.
On the other hand, Ford did not believe in the factory systems in use abroad. He did not mean to give each of his workmen a model cottage, with a model flower garden in front and a model laundry in the rear, and say to them: “Look at the flowers, but do not pick them; it will spoil my landscape effect. Look at the lawn, but do not cut it; I have workmen for that.”
He meant to place no restraints on the personal liberty of the men. He believed that every man, if given the opportunity, would make himself a good, substantial citizen, industrious, thrifty and helpful to others. He meant his plan to prove that theory also.
It has been rumored that the extra share of profits was given with “a string to it.” That is not so. There was no single thing a man must have to do to entitle him to his share. He need not own a home, start a bank account, support a family, or even measure up to a standard of work in the shops. Manhood and thrift were the only requisites, and the company stood ready to help any man attain those.
The first obstacle was the fact that 55 per cent. of the men did not speak English. Investigators visiting their miserable homes were obliged to speak through interpreters. A school was started where they might learn English, and the response was touching. More than a thousand men enrolled immediately, and when the plan was discussed in the shops 200 American workmen volunteered to help in teaching, so thoroughly had the Ford spirit of helpfulness pervaded the factory. The paid teachers were dismissed, and now those 200 men, on their own time, are helping their fellow-employees to learn the language of their new country.
Shortly after the newspapers had carried far and wide the news of Ford’s revolutionary theories a man knocked late one night at the door of the manager’s home.
“Will you give me a job?” he asked.
“Why, I don’t know who you are,” the manager replied.
“I’m the worst man in Detroit,” said the caller defiantly. “I’m fifty-four years old, and I’ve done thirty-two years in Jackson prison. I’m a bad actor, and everybody knows it. I can’t get a job. The only person that ever played me true is my wife, and I ain’t going to have her taking in washing to support me. If you want to give me a job, all right. If you don’t I’m going back to Jackson prison for good. There’s one man yet I want to get, and I’ll get him.”
Somewhat nonplussed by the situation the manager invited the man in, talked to him a bit, and called up Ford.