Since Detroit’s financial situation has dominated the news lately, I thought I would share my perspective.
First, I feel intimidation and awe.
Intimidated by the job we need to do in Savannah. Detroit has more than 35 incubators, accelerators, angel investment and entrepreneurial support groups. Apparently all doing incredible things but just not enough to fill the massive void left by the failed auto industry there.
At The Creative Coast, we are a staff of two, with many magnificent volunteers and a few dedicated contractors supporting a host of creative and innovative entrepreneurs, start-ups, and growing companies, each with the goal of contributing to economic stability in Savannah.
How do we learn from cities such as Detroit that are committed to supporting entrepreneurial activity? How do we ensure we have enough energy and support for similar initiatives to thrive here in Savannah?
While intimidated by Detroit’s precarious situation, I am also awed by the undeniable positive contribution large employers make to a community. Think about what life in Savannah would be like without our major employers. Please hug your favorite JCB, Gulfstream or Georgia Ports Authority executive today.
My perspective on Detroit is also very personal.
My parents grew up in Savannah attending Savannah High School. Yet, I was raised in thirteen homes throughout the United States as my father’s 33-year career with Ford Motor Company took him from Georgia Tech to New Jersey, Ohio, California, Missouri, Virginia and back to Georgia.
Since my mother (an Armstrong nursing school graduate) worked nights in the operating room, she often encouraged my dad to take us kids along for Saturday morning visits to the Ford plant so she could catch some shuteye.
I adored the tours and still hope to provide one to my own children someday. I loved the smiles of the 3,000-plus employees, the extra pep in my dad’s step as he pranced around with pride calling most people by name and the energy of production.
I loved the clean, shiny floors that glimmered as far as my eyes could see. I noticed the distinctive chemically smell as I secured my safety glasses and headed out.
My favorite part was always the paint department. I was entranced by the massive tanks.
Employees would hook cables to the car (which at this point looks like just the side as it is preassembled). The cable would run along a track and actually dip the car into a tank of thousands of gallons of electrocoat base paint. The body was charged one way and the paint charged another way. Thus, the paint was adhered electromagnetically.
Later, prime paint was applied via a spray booth. After each application the car would go through a heat process. Finally, there was a color booth. Only one of the many colors could be applied at a time. So, if the car were to be two-toned it would go through twice, the second time masked in the areas to preserve the original color.
The ordering and planning system in the plant was equally fascinating. Each one of the 1,300 automobiles built daily was preprogrammed for color, interior, add-on features, etc.
I was impressed by the little red “stop-buttons” above each work station. Every employee had the power to stop the entire assembly line if he or she saw something was not right.
I took personal pride that Bruce Springsteen shot some of the “Born in the USA” video not only at my dad’s plant but also at my high school. The train tracks coming directly into the plant with thousands of parts ready to join the assembly line were another highlight.
Naturally, the best part of my Saturday tour was the visit to the cafeteria and the ice cream sandwich I was granted for good behavior. My siblings and I would compete to see who could finish all of the vanilla ice cream first without eating any of the chocolate wafers.
For decades, I treasured connecting with anyone who had lived in areas where my dad had worked. The Ford plant was always a recognized icon and conversation starter. Today, however when I meet someone from one of my thirteen “home towns,” there is little memory or recognition of the Ford footprint.
Intimidation and awe can be great motivators. Each of us, regardless of our backgrounds as individuals or our sizes as corporations, has something significant to contribute to our local community. Get out there and make a difference in someone’s day.
Bea Wray is the executive director of The Creative Coast, a not-for-profit organization that promotes the creative and entrepreneurial community within the region. Bea can be reached at 912-447-8457 or bea@thecreativecoast.org.