Finally, Featherstone introduced statistical process control, which entails measuring and tracking parts through a manufacturing process. By examining random parts, for instance, one can spot deviations and trends that might signal problems with machinery or tooling. "I said we had to do this or we wouldn't have a company," he recalls. "The people we sell to were preaching quality and beating on us to provide better products."
But Will-Burt was looking better all the time. In December 1987 the San Diego product liability suit was dismissed. By 1988 the company once again could obtain full-coverage liability insurance. Banks suddenly agreed to lend the company money. And Featherstone, Will-Burt's main idea man, introduced new product lines -- an environmentally sound storage shed for hazardous waste, a cast-aluminum engine head for Ford.
There was a sense that things were starting to jell. "We used to have all these factions fighting each other," says Cecil Martin. "Guys in one plant didn't talk to guys in other plants, and most of the factory people thought of management as the enemy. But as things improved and people felt more secure, they really started pulling together. I mean, it was almost tangible."
On-time delivery was running at 98% for months on end. Product quality was surging dramatically. In 1986, for example, the part rejection rate stood at 35%. By late 1988 it fell below 10%. Time spent reworking faulty parts dropped from 2,000 hours a month to 400, even though Will-Burt was doing far more high-precision work than ever. That slashed annual reject reworking costs from $800,000 to less than $180,000.
Featherstone figures he laid out close to $200,000 in training expenses. There were teachers to pay, books to buy, a classroom to maintain. But the bulk of it was wages. The employees, remember, had taken the classes on company time. But the training had more than paid for itself in savings. And the ESOP finally seemed to be making a difference.
"With all the education, people really knew what they were doing," says Martin, who advanced through the ranks to become the company's quality control manager. "And a lot of it comes from this feeling of teamwork. If we lose scrap, that's money out of our pockets. A lot of people might not openly admit it, but down deep they know they own a piece of this place. And if they see somebody running a lot of bad parts, they'll jump on him. You just didn't see that before. There's more pride."
A case in point is Rick Stoudmire, a 29-year-old assembler in plant 9, the mast and furnace factory. Plant 9 sits in an industrial park on the north edge of Orrville. It's a beautiful facility, several years old, high-ceilinged, uncluttered, and well lit. It stands in stark contrast to Will-Burt's ancient factories downtown. In this plant, almost every worker can do every job, pitching in wherever they are needed (a future goal for the other Will-Burt plants as well).
"Harry wants us to have more input on the products we make," says Stoudmire. "That's the way a company really learns, from the people actually doing the job. We don't need someone looking over our shoulders. We want to do things right the first time."
As that kind of attitude grew, Featherstone began pushing authority and responsibility into other areas. In 1988, for instance, he switched the ESOP advisory committee from a management-appointed unit to one including workers elected by the factory crews and office personnel. Of the panel's eight members, five are elected -- managers and trustees round out the cast. Decisions are made by simple majority.
What has surprised Featherstone is the conservatism of those elected folks. Where the company once had both a Christmas party and a picnic, they opted to have only the picnic, to save money. The glossy-papered company newsletter cost $4,000 a year to produce. They voted to mimeograph it instead. Some workers suggested that the company close for "swing days" -- such as taking off Friday when Christmas fell on a Thursday. The accountants calculated the cost of a paid holiday -- $90,000, all told. When the committee heard that, it backed away from the idea.
"Ninety-nine percent of the time they make the same decisions management would make for things like purchasing and time off," Featherstone says. "Obviously, they don't run every aspect of the company. But on anything that materially affects us all -- pay, benefits -- I want to get the workers' views."
Trust kept building. When it came time to buy new machinery, Featherstone didn't dispatch engineers and managers to scout the options. He sent the machine operators themselves. Larry Murgatroyd, a 25-year-old gear machinist, traveled to Montreal last year to look at a used rack cutter. The company needed it to perform a $100,000 contract to make racks and pinions for Parker-Hannifin rotary actuators.
"Those are used for opening hatches on nuclear submarines, so if you have a gear that binds up you could actually kill some people," Murgatroyd says. "We had to make sure that the machine in Montreal was good. My plant manager went with me -- to share the blame if we brought back a lemon. But he relied on me in evaluating the equipment. It made me feel real good that he would trust my judgment. That's the sort of thing that makes you a loyal employee."
And quality kept improving. Cecil Martin and his inspectors catalog rejected parts at each of Will-Burt's four plants every day. "We break them down by department and pass out the reports weekly to every supervisor," Martin explains. "We assign a cost to each of those rejections and pinpoint their origins. The problems can stem from purchasing, engineering, or even sales. It shows them that we are tracking this and pointing the finger where it belongs, so the operators aren't getting blamed for everything anymore." That program wasn't something Martin was ordered to do -- it was his idea. And while it complicates his job, it has eased life immensely for the sales force.
"We used to ship anything even close to specification," says Terry Wheeler, who handles sales to Volvo, Westinghouse, and Parker-Hannifin. "Now, it takes an act of God to get something out of here that's not exactly to print. The customers love it." Parker-Hannifin, for instance, no longer even inspects the pinions the company provides for those rotary actuators. "What we get from Will-Burt is flawless," says Dean Sullivan, materials manager of the actuator division.
