1984 Revisited: Ford's was so rooted in Cork that its closure was unthinkable

It was a good one-liner but also underlined an attitude about Ford: It was so rooted in Cork that its closure was unthinkable. Over the decades the company had inserted itself into the Cork consciousness in a thousand ways — from the Ford ‘boxes’, shipping crates built into beach chalets, to Fordsons, the soccer team which won the FAI Cup in 1926.

The thousands who trekked down the Marina every weekday to Ford’s were highly paid workers in a prestigious industry and a constituency unto themselves, one which had to be taken seriously: When Cork native Jack Lynch visited the factory as taoiseach he made sure he was in a Ford rather than the traditional minister’s Mercedes.

Yet, despite a rallying visit to Cork by Henry Ford II in 1977, the warning signs were already blinking by the early 80s. Under increasing pressure from cheaper imports, Dunlop, just up the road from Ford closed in 1983. The car manufacturer was about to face the same type of pressure.

When Ireland had joined what was then the European Economic Community in 1973 it had received a key concession tariffs would not be imposed on the car industry foe 12 years, offering a grace period in which the industry had the chance to diversify. It was seen as a win at the time, but the derogation was due to end on January 1, 1985.

Ford tried to improve productivity at the plant but Cork struggled in comparison with other European plants: 80 cars were produced a day in Cork compared to 1,000 a day in Dagenham, for instance.

Dan Byrne worked at Ford as an engineer before moving eventually heading up Apple in Ireland, giving him a unique insight into the working practices and culture in old-fashioned heavy engineering and manufacturing compared to modern assembly.

When he says Ford was “almost Dickensian” in its hierarchies, he has evidence.

“There were four canteens. There was a canteen for the men on the factory floor. There was a canteen for the office staff. There was a canteen for the grade nines, i.e., management. There was a canteen for the directors — the likes of Frank Dillon and Paddy Hayes.

“Each one of those canteens was used every day.”

Other pressures came to bear in the early 80s. Inflation was a critical problem in the Ireland of the time, driving costs in the Cork factory almost three times higher than costs in Ford’s Belgian operation, while the parent company in America was also haemorrhaging money (a Washington Post headline earlier in the decade gives a flavour: ‘Ford Loses a Record $1.5 Billion in 1980’).

Amazingly, the Cork plant was working just one shift a day; Dan Byrne recalls discussions about a second shift.

“The factory was only in use eight hours a day, which was crazy. The unions were involved in these discussions and they had their demands.

“People could certainly say the unions played a role in the failure of the second shift to take off because of their demands, but it would be unfair to say that. That would be too simplistic.

“I’m not sure if the implementation of a second or a third shift would have made the Cork plant viable.

“I’m sure there are different opinions on that.

“However, my perception was there was also a lack of enthusiasm from management to embrace it as they saw it as a threat to their work life.

“If another shift were to be added, it would have meant extra work for all without any extra compensation.

“Many of these men had already given their lives to Ford and were close to retirement age, so they really had no incentive to promote such a strategy.

“Nobody was about to say out loud ‘no, we’re not going to do that’, but there was concern at a senior level about the second shift a lack of enthusiasm in embracing it. If that enthusiasm had existed then the second shift would have happened, and any demands from the unions would not have stopped it.

“That’s my opinion, based on my perception. It’s not cast in concrete, and others might have different opinions, but that was my view.”

On January 17, the hammer fell. 

The Cork Examiner announced that Ford’s Dagenham foundry would close. 

That same morning, managing director Paddy Hayes told the Cork factory staff that the Marina plant was also going to close, and 800 of the 1,100 jobs would be lost. 

The workers who were present for Hayes’s announcement applauded. There was a feeling in the city that the news was a shock though not a complete surprise — which made complete sense.

Pat Casey was a journalist with the Cork Examiner then and can remember the reaction: “We all knew people who were working there [Ford], and it was our first real exposure to the ruthlessness of corporate decision-making.

“They were all bastards and we were the victims: There was no analysis, really, and it was piled one on top of each other. The stories were of devastation and hurt, which were all valid, but looking back now, from a journalistic point of view it was limited enough. 

“When one [factory] closes now you have that 24 to 48 hours of people coming out of factories saying, ‘we’re devastated, we don’t know what were going to do now’, and then the analysis kicks in — analysis of the business case, why the place has closed, and it becomes much less emotive.

“But that wasn’t the case in Cork then.”

Other industries in Cork closed down that year, such as Verolme, the shipbuilding yard in Cobh. When it shut down in 1984, having employed 1,200 workers at its peak, it was yet another victim of international competition — ships were far cheaper to build in South Korea and Japan.

Ford was a huge blow, however. Its closure showed Cork — and Ireland — there was truly no mercy in international trade. Even for a Cork company with a branch in Detroit.

• Interview material from Crisis and Comeback: Cork in the Eighties by Michael Moynihan (Gill, 2018)