“An absorbing, psychologically acute biography that links Gilbreth’s career and embrace of ‘the strenuous life’ with the Progressive Era’s conflicted ideas about gender and the rise of the ‘New Woman.’”—Publishers Weekly

"Gilbreth's amazing story should be required reading for contemporary women struggling to achieve balance in their hectic lives."—Booklist

“This well-written biography has a fluid style that will engage all readers, but it will be of particular interest to historians and students of the relationship between gender and business."—Enterprise & Society

Making Time is "notable for its focus on social context, and on cultural and political history. At every spot along the way, the author presents the wider background to Lilian's story... This well-written, intriguing study presents a fascinating way to learn and to teach the evolving experience of American women during the ninety-four years of Lilian Gilbreth's life."—American Historical Review

Making Time

Northeastern University Press

Chapter One

Suddenly, on June 14, 1924, Frank went, not abroad as he had planned, but "West," as soldiers go. The Quest goes on! Lillian Moller Gilbreth, The Quest of the One Best Way (1925)

It was thursday, June 19, 1924, a hot summer's day,when Lillian Gilbreth sailed for England. She was in her mid-forties and whenshe smiled she was a very attractive woman, but she did not smile much; shelooked very tired and her pale face peeped out from under an unflatteringcloche hat. Unlike the rest of the passengers, a group of eminent Americanengineers and their wives, she did not stand and wave to friends or relativeson the dockside. There was no one to see her off-she had insisted that theyall stay home. Unlike the rest of the women, she was not dressed in her summerwhites; instead, she was clutching a black linen coat around her thinbody as if she was cold. She went straight to her cabin while the other passengersgreeted each other and arranged the social events that would pass thetime until they docked in Liverpool. Lillian had traveled to Europe with aparty of engineers before, and she knew full well that the week would bespent in shuffleboard and deck tennis and invitations to dine at the captain'stable. This time, however, she wanted no part of it. As the S.S. Scythia slowly pulled out of New York harbor, Lillian thoughtover the events of the last six days and how much had changed. The previousFriday, June 13, had been a day of celebration for her and for her husbandFrank, for that was when their sixteen-year-old daughter Ernestine graduatedfrom Montclair High School. Like most of her brothers and sisters, Ernestinehad skipped a grade: her father, Frank Bunker Gilbreth, believed that therewas no need for his children to be held back by a school system geared to "ordinary"children with ordinary parents. He was bursting with pride as thesecond of his large brood graduated. Everyone except the eldest daughter wasthere; Anne was in the middle of her sophomore exams at Smith College,more than a hundred miles away. The rest of the children, however, turned outin force. Next in line was fourteen-year-old Martha, then Frank Jr., who wasthirteen, followed by eleven-year-old Bill, ten-year-old Lill, seven-year-oldFred, Dan, who was six, Jack, who was five, Bob, who was nearly four, and thebaby, two-year-old Jane.

The Gilbreths' big old house in Montclair, New Jersey, was fuller thanever. Aunt Jane Bunker, Frank Gilbreth's dentist cousin, had come fromBrooklyn specially for the great event, and some of the children had doubledup to give her a bedroom. Tom Grieves, the man-of-all-work, who was neverwithout a cigarette drooping from his lips, was complaining more than usual:"Lincoln freed the slaves, all but one, all but one," he liked to mutter while hedropped ash into whatever dish he was helping Mrs. Cunningham, the cook,prepare. There was a celebratory tea after the commencement exercises with icecream all around, but Frank Gilbreth left early to attend a meeting. He drovehis big Pierce Arrow car down to the Lackawanna Railroad station, a mile orso from the house, and took the train into New York City, half an hour away.He felt he had to go to this meeting, the final planning session before he, Lillian,and the other engineers set sail for the Prague International ManagementConference (PIMCO). Frank was one of the prime movers for this conferenceand had been working on it for more than two years. Frank was not his usual ebullient self at the meeting; one of his engineeringfriends recalled thinking that he seemed worn out and offered to carry hisbulging briefcase to the taxi. "Later I wished I had insisted," Charles Lytlewrote, adding, "Perhaps I was his last friend to see him alive." Nevertheless,Frank arrived home safely, and rejoined Ernestine's graduation celebrations.

The next day, Saturday, Lillian was up early, as usual: unlike her husband,who liked to work till all hours of the night, she was a morning person. WhenFrank was finally up and about, he decided to return to New York to collectthe visas and do some last-minute shopping. Lillian was arranging somesyringa she had picked earlier that morning for Ernestine to take to her classday. Frank walked through the hall, remarking that the flowers looked like afuneral bouquet, then left for the station. A little while later the telephonerang. It was Frank to say that he had missed the train "by a good many minutes."Lillian replied, "Never mind. It must be almost time for the next one,"to which he said, "Good old optimist!" Frank then confessed that he had leftwithout the passports and asked Lillian to check if they were in his desk,telling her, "I'll wait." She went to look for them, but when she returned therewas no one on the line, so she assumed he had gone on the next train. An houror so later a police officer arrived and broke the terrible news to Lillian: Frankwas dead. He had collapsed in the phone booth at the Lackawanna Railroadstation, and by the time his doctor arrived there was nothing to be done. Hewas only fifty-five years old.

Lillian had feared for several years that this might happen. Frank hadbeen suffering from heart disease since 1919, but it was, nonetheless, a terribleshock. She bore it in numbed silence. Ernestine remembers, "I was juststanding there, ready for my class day. And mother didn't cry at all." Marthaand Lill were in Montclair shopping; a neighbor was dispatched to find themand bring them home. Frank Jr. and Bill were playing baseball and had to betold. The younger children were playing in the yard; after they were told, six-year-oldDan sat on the front steps of the house sobbing, "My daddy'sdead."

Lillian tried to console herself with the thought that his last words hadprobably been when he said to her, "I'll wait," and that as Frank died "withoutpain and without even knowing he was going," this was "the One BestWay." There was, however, little time for reflection; relatives and colleagueshad to be telephoned. The next few days passed in a blur, as telegrams andletters arrived and the house filled with people and flowers. Anne boarded thenext train home from Northampton, exams abandoned. Anne GilbrethCross, Frank's elder sister, came down from Providence, where she ran a musicschool, and Lillian's aunt, Dr. Lillian Powers, a Freudian psychoanalyst,arrived with her husband from Westchester County.

Through all the chaos Lillian remained almost unnaturally calm. Shetelephoned her California relatives about Frank's death, but followed the callalmost immediately with a cable telling them not to come to the funeral;she had decided to go to the PIMCO meeting in Europe as planned, so shewanted to hold the funeral as soon as possible. The delay while her parents,brothers, and sisters made the long transcontinental train journey wouldmake it impossible for her to sail with the rest of the engineering group.

Lillian would not be going simply as Frank's widow, but as an industrialengineer in her own right. The Gilbreths had a professional as well as aprivate partnership, though in public, at least, Lillian tended to downplay herown contributions. On her way to the boat-the only time she could makefor an interview-she told a young woman journalist how blessed she felt tohave known Frank: "I have had more in twenty years with Frank than anyother woman I have known has had in twice that time," she said. Her statementwas nothing less than the truth. Her husband had expected a great dealof her. She had borne more children, done more work, and shouldered moreresponsibility than most women of her generation, or indeed of any generation,and by the early 1920s she had become a celebrity for the way she combinedmotherhood and a career. Now that Frank was dead, she felt bothcompelled and able to carry on their work alone.

The ship was not due to sail for five days; in the meantime, Lillian busiedherself carrying out Frank's wishes. He wanted his brain to go to the HarvardMedical Museum. Four years earlier he had taken several of the children tothe psychiatric hospital in Boston where his old friend and former summerschool student Dr. Myrtelle Canavan worked. Ernestine, who was twelve atthe time, had gazed with fascination at a row of jars with brains preserved informaldehyde, and Frank had told her, "One day my brain will be in one ofthose jars." Dr. Canavan quickly conducted an autopsy, which revealed thatFrank had died of arterial sclerosis.

Later that evening the funeral directors brought Frank's body home. Theyhad dressed him in his major's uniform and carefully carried the open coffininto the family living room. It seemed incongruous, somehow, that he waslying there so quietly in the midst of the bookcases and armchairs where thefamily had spent so many hours reading and talking and discussing. Frankhad been a large, noisy man, the life and soul of every occasion; now he wassilent. His tranquility was, however, in marked contrast to the weather. It hadbeen a hot summer's day and as if to underline the drama of his death, the returnof Frank's body was greeted by a violent thunderstorm. Lillian remembered,"In spite of everything that had happened, the wonderful, beautifuland startling electrical display held them spell-bound. Finally, small Billspoke up and said, 'Gee, I'm sure that daddy is there! Isn't it exactly like him?'and everyone agreed that he was there, perhaps participating and certainlyenjoying."

Frank's funeral took place at 2:30 P.M. on Sunday, June 15, 1924, only aday after his death. He had served in World War I and the local American Legionpost helped arrange the service; his simple coffin was now draped withan American flag. He and Lillian had talked about their funeral arrangements;she knew that he wanted a military tone to his funeral, but no flowers,no music, and no mourning, and he wanted her to help the children feel "thatDeath was as simple as Birth and as natural."

Ernestine sat next to her spinster Moller great-aunts who were dressed inrustling black taffeta. One of them said, "Well, what is poor Lillie going todo now? This is going to be dreadful for her." The Moller aunts were in a positionto help out, for they had inherited all of Lillian's father's money whenhe died eleven months earlier. William Moller had made a small fortune in hisCalifornia hardware business, but reasoned that since Lillian had a wealthyhusband and his other eight children were well provided for in his wife's will,the money he had inherited from his own parents should help his two unmarriedsisters. Tillie and Hansie Moller did not, however, return the complimentto their widowed niece. Ernestine believes they disapproved of theGilbreths: "I think they thought we were gypsies or something." Relationsbecame very strained over the next few years as Lillian struggled to pay elevencollege tuitions while the aunts lived in luxury just down the road.

Frank had wanted to be cremated and Lillian carried out his wishes,though with a slight amendment; he had wanted his ashes scattered on EagleRock, near their home, but Lillian decided that this might upset the children,who often played there. She chose to return his ashes to the water-he lovedsailing-and finally, accompanied only by her aunt and her sister-in-law, shescattered Frank's remains in the Hudson River.

After rejecting her aunt's offer of psychotherapy, Lillian called a familycouncil. Her four eldest children were there. Two of them, Ernestine andFrank Jr., wrote about this meeting more than twenty years later in their humorousfamily memoir Cheaper by the Dozen. They portray a very determinedmother announcing that she wanted to go to the European conferencesand give the speeches Frank had planned to make in London and Prague. "Ithink that's the way your father wants it," she added. "But the decision is upto you." More recently, Ernestine stressed her mother's clever management ofthe situation. "I think we had a sense of very great value that we had helpedher to do it. You see, she was so smart, handling us. We had a vote which madethis possible."

Lillian wanted to continue with the industrial engineering work she andFrank had been doing for the last dozen years, and the children wanted to helpher do so. Lillian had several reasons for this plan. Frank had not left muchmoney; the large consulting fees he and Lillian earned went to keeping thehouse and family, and any excess was poured back into new equipment. Sheneeded to make enough to keep the family together and see all the childrenthrough college; in addition, she wanted the Gilbreth work in motion studyanalysis to continue under her name rather than be buried under otherbranches of industrial engineering. She was still smarting from a dispute betweenFrank and Frederick Winslow Taylor, the so-called father of scientificmanagement, and although Taylor had been dead for nine years, some of hisfollowers would be only too pleased if the Gilbreths' unique contribution wasallowed to disappear. She also wanted to expand her and Frank's researchinto what was later called ergonomics, but what she called "Fatigue Elimination."This was the part she really enjoyed, even though for public consumptionshe modestly categorized it as "Frank's research."

These goals may do much to explain Lillian's decision to go to Europe inJune 1924. In so doing she informed the engineering profession that she intended to continue the Gilbreth work; she also reassured the internationalcommunity that she was fully competent to speak for "The One Best Way."The support of these two groups would do much for her continued financialsuccess and thereby the children's well-being. Thus, what seemed the most extraordinarydecision of Lillian's life may have been a rational choice. She hadbeen intending to go to Europe anyway, she had no other jobs lined up for thenext two months, and she needed the distraction of work. Although she lefther children to fend for themselves less than a week after their father's death,their accounts of the period do not reproach their mother for not being there;they stress instead their own resilience.

And resilient they seem to have been. Unlike the five children of EleanorRoosevelt, a contemporary working mother, who among them had nineteenmarriages, the eleven Gilbreth children had only twelve; unlike theRoosevelts, they never voiced public anger at parental neglect. Numerouspress accounts reported Lillian's decision to go to Europe; none of them suggestedthat she was in any way mistreating her children.



Continues...
Excerpted from Making Timeby Jane Lancaster Copyright © 2006 by Jane Lancaster. Excerpted by permission.
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