New President at Ford

Looking squarely into the TV camera, the husky, blue-eyed Dutchman smiled disarmingly and had only one thing to say: "Gentlemen, I appreciate the opportunity of being president of Ford—and who wouldn't?" With such candor, John Dykstra. 63, acknowledged his elevation last week to the presidency of the nation's second biggest automaker (after General Motors). The appointment seemed to surprise him as well as everyone else.

After Robert McNamara resigned the Ford presidency last December to become Kennedy's Defense Secretary, Chairman Henry Ford II assumed the post himself while trying to decide on a new man out of the handful of executives (including the famed "whiz kids") just below McNamara. Ford instead chose an oldtime executive who frankly describes himself as "a nuts and bolts man."

Detroit insiders had their own explanation for the choice, thought Ford wanted a president who could serve only a limited time (Ford retirement age is 65, but by mutual agreement can be extended to 68) in hopes that McNamara would rejoin the company.

There was more logic than that to the choice. Hard-driving John Dykstra has helped Ford make substantial progress in solving a prime problem—quality control. As vice president for manufacturing, he has haunted the production lines, insisting on tighter inspection, better workmanship. Chiefly through his efforts Ford raised the quality of its cars and trucks so markedly that it was able to catch the rest of the industry by surprise last October by offering a twelve-month or 12,000-mile warranty instead of the then standard three months or 4,000-mile guarantee. Says Dykstra: "We are striving to indoctrinate our people with the understanding that nothing short of perfection is satisfactory."

If the job is being done less than perfectly, Dykstra likes to jump in and show how to do it. Shortly after joining Ford in 1947 (following stints as factory manager for Hudson and Oldsmobile), Dykstra became chief of the now defunct aircraft engine plant at Chicago. Exasperated by one division's repeated failures to machine propeller shafts to the close tolerances required by the Government contract, he hauled the department chief back to the shop after work, told him to watch, and began to machine a shaft himself. At 5 a.m., with the weary department chief still watching, Dykstra completed the shaft, checked each dimension with a micrometer, found them all acceptable. "This is the way I want the job done," he snapped, and then slammed the shaft to the floor, ruining it. "Now I haven't broken any union regulation," he said, and stalked off.

To unwind from his work, Dykstra likes to raise flowers (roses, daffodils, tulips) in the garden of his Georgian colonial home in suburban Bloomfield Vil lage, where he lives with his wife Marion. Another hobby: quick trips to Fort Lauderdale, Fla., where he has a home and a 33-ft. Chris-Craft cruiser for deep-sea fishing.

Other changes of the week: