Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

JANE LANCASTER holds a Ph.D. in history from Brown University. An award-winning high school teacher for many years, she is a lecturer on women's history and the author of Inquire Within: A Social History of the Providence Athenaeum Since 1753 (2003).

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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...