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Twice I visited Toyota-shi (city) outside Nagoya. I saw the now famous kaizen system of constant improvement/zero defects. I saw the now famous just-in-time inventory process, keeping only those parts on hand needed right away. I saw a diorama of robots Isaac Asimov would embrace. I met workers who could stop whole assembly lines by themselves if they saw anything out of whack.
Toyota City ain't Tokyo. Just as Detroit ain't New York, L.A., or Washington. It's countryside. A lot of Toyota folks speak Osaka-ben, with an accent as different from Tokyoites as East Coast inflections are from a Texas twang. The traditional greeting wasn't Ohayo gozaimasu, good morning, as in Tokyo, but Mokari makka, are you making money?
In the mid-'80s, after Toyota built production plants in the U.S., I wrote a story about the NUMMI plant in Fremont, which has recently closed. (Picketers protesting the shutdown of the Toyota/General Motors joint venture have piled on in Modesto and elsewhere to capitalize on Toyota's present problems.)
Right after the plant opened, though, Americans were glad to see that Japanese managers ate in the same cafeteria. No special parking spots. Everybody wore the same uniform. The top executive salaries were only about 18 times those of line workers; in Detroit, it could reach 300 times that of a blue-collar guy attaching a bumper.
But Toyota closed the plant because it was no longer "commercially feasible," as Eiji Toyoda said two decades ago. In its latest fiscal year, the company lost $5.55 billion -- its first annual loss since 1950!
Toyota isn't a widows-and-orphans fund. It makes cars and trucks to make money. Its first priority is to its workers, then contractors, subcontractors and suppliers, then customers, finally shareholders. At U.S. corporations, that hierarchy is reversed.
Wednesday I drove my Corolla to Merced Toyota (I had also owned a Camry, which I gave to my son Nao). I wanted to talk with John Bissot, the manager. He was out. Under corporate orders, nobody could talk to the press. I was referred to an 800 number (331-4331) where a velvety female voice offered dozens of options to a caller, none useful to a reporter.
But I did learn that Merced Toyota sells 70-80 percent of its vehicles to people who already own Toyotas. That nine out of 10 owners affected by the recent recalls have come in, didn't raise hell and got their rig fixed in 60 or 70 minutes. That many of them said they'd keep buying Toyotas.
The point is this: for decades Toyota has provided American consumers with reliable and affordable vehicles. As with any megacorporation operating in more than 100 countries it sometimes makes mistakes. Now Toyota has owned up to its mistakes and will try to make amends.
That's called capitalism. And accountability.
It's at times like these I miss our late columnist and my friend Bob Sharp. Twice president of the American Chamber of Commerce in Japan, a leading international banker, Bob offered a voice of reason when the baying of simpletons threatened to get out of hand against Japan. He'd do the same again today, were he still with us.
He'd point out, for example, that Japan holds the largest pool of U.S. Treasury securities, $769 billion, with China second at $755 billion. The Japanese, in short, prop us up while we spend ourselves into ever deeper deficits and debt. So far, they haven't called us on it.
So far.
Meantime, my next car -- from Merced Toyota -- will be a Prius.
Executive Editor Mike Tharp can be reached at (209) 385-2456 or mtharp@mercedsun-star.com.
