Taurus Rising

If you said that the stars were responsible for Ford’s unprecedented 15-year rise from the depths of recession and moribund sales to record profits, you would not be far off. Without the runaway success of the midsize sales sensation Ford Taurus, named for the astrological sign of chief engineer John Risk’s wife, there’s no assurance that Ford would ever have recovered from the trying ’70s and early ’80s. Not bad for an automobile internal critics once said looked like a “car from the moon.”

If you said that the stars were responsible for Ford’s unprecedented 15-year rise from the depths of recession and moribund sales to record profits, you would not be far off. Without the runaway success of the midsize sales sensation Ford Taurus, named for the astrological sign of chief engineer John Risk’s wife, there’s no assurance that Ford would ever have recovered from the trying ’70s and early ’80s. Not bad for an automobile internal critics once said looked like a “car from the moon.”

Today, 10 years after the car’s introduction and with millions of sales under the bridge, consumers have come to accept the Taurus as a mainstay on the American roadways. But today’s acceptance of the Taurus belies a 7-year developmental struggle that often threatened to tear the parent company apart.

In 1978, Ford CEO Philip Caldwell charged engineer Lewis Veraldi with responsibility for creating and implementing a new design for the company’s midsize car lineup. In the past for a variety of reasons risk-averse managers had scuttled virtually all of Veraldi’s remodeling ideas. But this time was different; record losses were forcing Ford’s hand. To regain market share from the Japanese, Ford would have to make some bold moves. Despite past contentions with management, Veraldi viewed this project as the opportunity to realize his lifelong dream to build the “perfect” car.

But such a bold move would require more than a mere shift in managerial attitudes. To compete with the Japanese, Veraldi knew he would need to revamp Ford’s outdated and inefficient development and manufacturing methods – even if it meant stepping on some important toes.

Team Taurus Forms

Development came first. Rather than bring individuals into the project as their expertise was needed, Veraldi assembled his entire team before launching any major developmental efforts. This way every member of the team would understand how the car was taking shape from the very beginning. Although many division heads resisted losing top people to the nascent project, CEO Caldwell had decreed the team concept himself, so Veraldi was generally able to negotiate for the individuals he needed.

Veraldi’s new team included members from marketing, sales, manufacturing, engineering, finance and product planning. While by today’s quality-rabid standards such a diverse group would raise few eyebrows, at Ford in 1979 it was nothing short of revolutionary. Unlike the past, when protecting turf was job one and adversarial relationships predominated across departments, designers began concerning themselves with the costs of particular designs, engineers considered the vehicle’s look and feel and, most important, from the very beginning everyone on the team shared a united vision to build a car the customer would want to buy.

Putting The Customer First

To realize this vision, Team Taurus took a “back to the drawing board” approach, rejecting time-honored traditions that were more suited to Ford’s needs than the customers’. Believing that even family car owners want to feel a sense of control behind the wheel, Veraldi’s team eased up on the power brakes and power steering, making the Taurus much more responsive than previous midsize American cars.

To create an aerodynamic look, designers scrapped hard edges and a boxy look in favor of sleek, smooth, flowing lines. Everything from the instrument panel to the shape and sensitivity of the seats reflected the customer-first approach. Even the engine engineers got into the act, painting the dipstick a highly visible yellow color while placing it within easy access under the hood. And despite reservations among some executives that the Taurus resembled a car from the moon, the empowered design team remained true to their vision.

Manufacturing Consent

Once the team concept became firmly entrenched with Taurus’ development squad, Caldwell turned his attention to revamping Ford’s manufacturing processes and to Tom Page, then head of diversified operations. Since time immemorial, Ford’s assembly line workers had focused on producing target numbers, regardless of quality. Supervisors didn’t want to hear about problems with the machinery and inspectors were instructed by colleagues to gloss over any questionable products. At one generator and alternator plant fully 25 percent of the alternators rolling off the assembly lines proved unusable.

To reverse these practices, Ford developed two programs: Employee Involvement and Participative Management. Workers became responsible for inspecting their own work. Plant managers were encouraged to confer with groups of workers to improve conditions and efficiency. Members of management traveled with union officials to Japan to understand how the Japanese could produce cars so efficiently. Ford’s 1982 UAW contract reflected the company’s commitment to improving quality by providing for workers’ involvement in defining how cars were assembled.

Employee involvement bore fruit immediately. Worker groups offered valuable suggestions that simplified assembly, eliminated superfluous parts and sped up the entire process. One Ford executive, Pete Pestillo, later estimated that a typical adopted worker suggestion saved the company approximately $300,000.

Raves Come In

Seeking to inspire the buying public with the new attitude that produced this revolutionary automobile while acknowledging past failings, Ford’s advertising agency, J. Walter Thompson, came up with an ad campaign for the Taurus that would resonate throughout the decade. The “Have you driven a Ford lately?” campaign stirred up interest that had the public wondering what all the excitement was about. Meanwhile, upon its introduction in December 1985 the Taurus received raves from the automotive press. Car and Driver called it “the gutsiest car of our time.” Motor Trend named Taurus Car of the Year for 1986. GM CEO Roger Smith’s criticism that the Taurus looked like a “jelly bean on wheels” represented a mere whisper in the din of critical accolades.

But more important than all the rave reviews, Taurus was an instantaneous sales success. Despite having to recall 4,500 models to replace faulty ignition switches, Tauruses – and their copycat Mercury Sables – flew off the lots. 1986 Taurus sales helped Ford generate record profits. By 1988 on the strength of 374,000 units sold the Taurus became the best-selling car in America. Although the Honda Accord assumed that mantle for 1989 and 1990, by 1992 the Taurus was back on top, where it has remained for the past three years. In 1994 Ford sold nearly 400,000 Tauruses.

Beyond the record sales and profit numbers, however, the Taurus success story reveals something even more significant. Entering into the project, Caldwell, Veraldi and the hundreds of members of Team Taurus had no guarantees that their vision would ever result in a finished product, not to mention a car that would sell.

Ford bet the farm on the Taurus, and the car’s runaway success sent reverberations throughout the international automobile community. Reports of the death of the American car industry were notably premature, and the Taurus sent the strongest message of all. Contrary to popular belief, Detroit could again produce cars people were proud to drive. Internally, the car’s success validated Team Taurus’ risky experimental philosophy.

Rather than representing a temporary ripple before the company resumed business as usual, after seven years of development and a $3.3 billion investment in the Taurus the Ford Motor Company would be forever changed. For Ford, consumers and the automobile industry as a whole, that change has certainly been for the better. As Veraldi told his secretary upon seeing initial sales reports and press reviews, “Well, it didn’t turn out to be the perfect car. But it is the closest thing I’ve ever seen to one.”