A whole sub-genre of books exists to tar Americans as Nazis or sympathizers of the Nazis, and there is some truth to some of the accounts, just as there is some truth (a lot more) that some Americans in those days were sympathetic to the Communists. But when I read the argument against Henry Ford in “The American Axis,” I thought, “This is too much.” It was an example to me of how not to write history.

         My review appeared in Liberty, November 2003. 

Review of Max Wallace, The American Axis: Henry Ford, Charles Lindbergh and the Rise of the Third Reich, St. Martin’s Press, 2003.

 

         The argument in The American Axis is that Charles Lindbergh and Henry Ford are partly responsible for the rise of Hitler. So suggests the book’s cover art, which shows Ford, Lindbergh and a backdrop of a Nazi concentration camp.

         The lives and beliefs of both men did intersect in certain ways with the German National Socialists. Ford believed in a Jewish banking conspiracy; Lindbergh admired the technical and organizational achievements of the late-1930s German state. But The American Axis wants to prove more than that.

         This is the first political history by Max Wallace, whose previous books were Muhammad Ali’s Greatest Fight and Who Killed Kurt Cobain? Wallace has been industrious in digging for dirt on Ford and Lindbergh, and fills his book with a heap of it, much of which he immediately exaggerates.

         The exaggeration starts in the first sentence: “The process that brought Henry Ford’s portrait to a prominent position behind Hitler’s desk began during the summer of 1919, when Ford made the first public sortie in a hate-filled but distinctly American campaign that was to dominate his attention for the next eight years.”

         This was a campaign in Ford’s Dearborn Independent newspaper to vilify international Jewish bankers. Hate-filled it was, but it is an exaggeration to say that it “was to dominate his attention for the next eight years.” It was a sideline. Ford’s attention was dominated by the Ford Motor Company, and when, in 1927, his railing at Jewish bankers began to hurt the sales of his cars, he shut down the paper and promised never to attack Jews again.

         Ford was a self-made man, an industrial genius who never graduated from high school and famously said, “History is bunk.” He had two political crusades in his life, one against Jewish bankers and the other against war, neither of which Wallace takes much effort to understand.

         Ford hated bankers because they lent money to companies like his and took the companies away in hard times. He had lost a company that way around the turn of the century, and vowed that that would never happen to Ford Motor. He was determined not to borrow bankers’ money, but to create his own capital. He did it, and counted it as a win against the moneychangers.

         Ford did more than just oppose World War I. He chartered a “peace ship” to carry antiwar protesters to Europe. Wallace recounts this, but has no appreciation of why anyone would object to fighting German “aggression.” Wallace also recounts that Ford, as well as Lindbergh’s father, believed that Wall Street financiers had entangled America with Britain and helped drag the country into the war. He presents this as a crank belief, but it was not. President Wilson asked for war because German U-boats were sinking American merchant ships. The ships were carrying goods that the British had bought with money raised on Wall Street.

         None of which is explained in this book.

         Some of those Wall Street financiers were Jewish, though the most prominent of them, J.P. Morgan, Jr., was not. Anyway, Ford did become fixated on Jews, and after World War I had published a scurrilous book, The International Jew. It was translated into several languages, including German, which apparently was why the young Hitler had a picture of Ford on his wall. (But Ford did not have a picture of Hitler on his wall.)

         Wallace leaves certain things out of his narrative that ought to be there, and adds others that ought to have been edited out.

          There is an accusation that Ford gave money to the Nazis in 1922, eleven years before the Nazis took power. It is not Wallace’s accusation. The accuser was a German politician. Wallace repeats it, quotes a historian who says there is no evidence of it, and then undermines the historian by saying, “A significant amount of archival materials from the company’s early days… has been ‘discarded.’ ”

         Not discarded, but “discarded,” with sneer quotes. 

         In 1924, a Nazi arranged a meal with Ford by tagging along with composer Richard Wagner and Wagner’s wife, Winifred. The purpose was to ask Ford for money. The Nazi sprung his question and later (in a book) complained that Ford was a tightwad, and wouldn’t contribute a nickel. But Wallace reports that Winifred Wagner, still alive in 1997, told a researcher that Ford said he had helped Hitler. When? How? How much? We don’t know. Wallace says, “Whether or not Ford actually financed Hitler, there can be no doubt about his ideological sway over the fuehrer-in-waiting.”

         Wallace has been trying to say that Hitler got some of his money from Ford, and, failing that, says it doesn’t matter because Hitler was “swayed” by Ford.

         Swayed to what? 

         But back to the original charge: giving money. Suppose, for the sake of argument, that Ford had given some money. This was 1922. Even if Ford had been talked into making a donation to the Nazis — because they were critics of Jewish bankers, or just to get a pest away from his dinner table — it is unlikely in 1922 that any American who had never been to Germany (or to high school) understood the National Socialist German Workers Party. Ford abhorred both socialism and war, and was never in favor of killing an entire race of people.

         In another innuendo, Wallace quotes a historian who asserts that Hitler got the idea of industrial killing from Ford’s production line. Wallace offers no proof of this, but even if it were so, would that tarnish Ford? Wallace doesn’t say it does; he just reports it and moves on. He follows the conventions of an objective historian while producing a biased account, and he does this over and over again.

         Another of Wallace’s hits is his recounting of a statement by Ernest Liebold, a pro-German who was Ford’s longtime assistant, and later fired, that Ford received a shipment of swastika pins in the 1920s and encouraged some people to wear

them. Wallace notes that Liebold is not a trustworthy witness, and that his memoirs are “filled with exaggerated, self-serving and sometimes blatantly false accounts,” but he likes this story about the swastika pins enough to use it.

         Again, what if it were true? A swastika pin has ominous meaning today, but what meaning would it have had in Detroit, U.S.A., in 1925?

         Fast forward a few years. Hitler is in power. He has persecuted Jews but is not yet killing them wholesale, and he is making territorial demands on his neighbors but has not yet begun the war. Germany is at peace with the United States, though Hitler is none too popular here. Ford has a factory in Germany called Ford-Werke. The factory has a few military contracts with Berlin. In July 1938, a couple of months before the Munich crisis, the German consuls of Detroit and Cleveland offer to award the Grand Cross of the German Eagle to Ford. There is a famous picture of Ford in white suit and sash accepting the medal, looking somewhat bemused.

         What to make of this? Well, they are sucking up to him. He might have refused the award if he understood the Nazi doctrine and disapproved of it. Then again, he had a factory in Germany, and his inclination as an investor in Germany would be to avoid an insult to the German government. 

         Immediately, he was denounced in the United States for accepting the award. Challenged to give it back, Ford said that he did not agree with the persecution of the Jews and was willing to hire Jewish refugees. But he kept the medal and did not criticize Hitler directly.

         To Wallace, this shows that Ford was an Axis sympathizer. To me, it looks as if he was trying to stay out of public positions that could hurt his business (and not succeeding).

         Germany and Russia began World War II in September 1939, and in May 1940 Germany invaded France. The U.S. policy was to be officially neutral but to sell war material to the Allies for cash. The interventionists supported this because they said it would help defeat Hitler while keeping America out of the war; the isolationists, like Ford, opposed sales because they believed they would get America into the war.

         In June 1940, Ford was offered a contract to build 3,000 Rolls Royce aircraft engines for the United States and 6,000 for Britain, with the latter engines to be paid for by the British government. Ford refused the second contract. “We are not doing business with the British or any other foreign government,” he said. “If we make 6,000 Rolls Royce Merlin engines, it will be on an order from the United States government.”

         Ford did not want to entangle America in the war. Wallace quotes Ford production chief Charles Sorensen, speaking in September 1940 about Ford’s political hot buttons: “His pet peeve was Franklin Roosevelt, but any mention of the war in Europe or this country’s involvement upset him almost to incoherence.”

         Wallace makes it sound as if Ford were an Axis sympathizer because he refused to make engines for the British while Ford Werke was making trucks for the Germans. He never mentions that Ford also had a subsidiary in Britain that was available to the British government. The Ford factory at Dagenham would produce 360,000 military vehicles and 250,000 V-8 aircraft engines for the British in World War II. Ford would also set up a plant at Manchester that would produce 34,000 of the Rolls-Royce aircraft engines.

         Wallace does mention, in passing, that General Motors had a subsidiary in Germany — Opel — and it also made trucks for the German army. He mentions that Ford had a subsidiary in France that made trucks for the French army, and when the Germans came it made trucks for the German army. There is a pattern here: a factory supports the government of the country it is in. If it refused, it would be seized, and it would still support the government of the country it was in.

         Wallace sees a great moral problem in Ford Werke. He says it “amassed huge profits without interruption.” In his book, he throws around the phrases “unfettered corporate profits” (p. 227), “huge profits” (p. 329) and “massive profits” (p. 351) for their rhetorical odor, showing no sign that he understands what a profit actually is, of the distinction between an accounting profit and cash, or between a currency that is convertible and one that is blocked. He does report that Ford Werke accounted for less than 2 percent of U.S. investment in Germany at the outbreak of war, and that when the war ended the cumulative cash dividend from Ford Werke, translated into dollars and made available to the American owners, amounted to just $60,000.

         He also presents evidence that Ford Werke used slave labor in the latter part of the war. But Ford Werke was not under control of its American parent during the war. 

         And so it goes. I can’t claim that everything that Henry Ford did was good. But wandering through all Max Wallace’s smoke is no way to get a clear or fair picture of his subject.

         Wallace’s treatment of Lindbergh is similar, but he makes a somewhat stronger case. Wallace does show that Lindbergh was fascinated by the Nazis in the late 1930s, that to some extent he admired them, that he toured their aircraft plants and accepted the same medal Ford did, and that one of his reasons for opposing American entry into World War II was that he thought Germany would win. As with Ford, the Nazis tried to use Lindbergh, and apparently had some success at it. But it does not make him a Nazi, or responsible for Nazism.

         I thought, while reading this book, how a right-winger might write a similar book about various liberal heroes of the 1930s and 1940s cooperating with Stalin and with Communism. It would be a much longer book than this, with more smoke and more fire; and if anybody would offer it for review, how the righteous progressives would denounce in one voice as an expression of intolerable and outrageous McCarthyism.

 

© 2003 Bruce Ramsey