George Webber's Secret

Father of all precision tools is the Johansson gauge block, invention of a Swedish genius, now made in the U.S. exclusively by Ford. With surfaces finished to an accuracy (at a constant temperature of 68DEG F.) within two-millionths of an inch, these blocks maintain the accuracy of micrometers and other gauges down to a ten-thousandth of an inch, thus make possible the interchangeability of parts, essence of mass production. Today, with production booming, the "Jo" blocks, always scarce, are spread as thin as management itself. Last week a lone machinist in a privy-sized Cleveland shop was easing the scarcity and making a lot of money at it.

Carl Edward Johansson, working in a Swedish arsenal, cracked the accurate-measurement nut in the 1890s. He knew there was nothing so accurate in the hands of a toolmaker as a simple block of steel. Assuming that the average shop needed measurements for every ten-thousandth of an inch from 1/10 of an inch to 12 inches, a complete set of block gauges would number well over 100,000 pieces. But he found that every one of these measurements could be obtained by a combination of only 81 pieces, the smallest being 1/10 of an inch, the largest four inches.

For example: a tool manufacturer requires a measurement of 3.3755 inches. This can be made up with four pieces: 3.000, .150, .125, .1005) one on top of the other.

By study of steel's molecular characteristics, of the effects of temperature on it, and by secret methods of lapping steel by hand, Johansson created blocks so near to absolute flatness that the error was less than four-millionths of an inch. In 1923, when Jo blocks were standard throughout the machine world, Johansson came to the U.S., hooked up with Henry Ford who set him up in the Ford Motor Co.

Among the thousands of mechanics who learned the importance of Jo blocks in World War I was a Cleveland lad named George D. Webber. In his shop only the boss had a Jo set--they cost around $1,500 then--and kept it so much to himself that Webber could not get the use of it in time to check his work. He decided he could make a million dollars by cracking old Johansson's secret. Later he decided he could make accurate gauges by machine.

By 1929 Webber had set up his first machine in a bedroom. The first blocks came out a mess, but he finally made some with an error of only eight-millionths of an inch. He cut the error down, began to sell some sets, until depression killed his market. In 1932, his mama let him build a shop in her backyard. Soon he began to peddle his wares again, doubled his sales every year. This year he expects to sell 2,000 sets, all finished by one machine.

George Webber fondly strokes the canvas hood that hides his machine from all but four pairs of eyes--his own, his son's, two trusted operators'. Crows he: "I've got a secret--that's much better than a patent." He roundly asserts that his machine turns out gauge blocks equal in accuracy to the Jo, can make more of them than Ford. His customers do not go that far. Most of them use his blocks along with the revered Jo blocks, for yeoman but auxiliary work. His biggest market: small tool manufacturers who cannot get Jo blocks, and a few expanding precision manufacturers like Curtiss-Wright. Only other maker of comparable block gauges is the Pratt & Whitney division of Niles-Bement-Pond, whose Hoke blocks are also machine-lapped, have long pushed Johansson's for top-rating.

Webber declares that he could sell a thousand sets today if he had them. His A set (accurate to four-millionths of an inch) sells for $400, his B set (eight-millionths) for $235. At his current production rate of 37 sets a week, he must be netting around $9,000 a week on the product of his one machine, after a payroll of 27 men (average wage under $50 a week), raw material consisting of less than $40 worth of steel and almost nil for overhead (he is his own sales force). He has recently bought a home in California, two new cars, a yacht, is planning a bigger plant. Thither he will move his machine and the decor of his privy-sized shack: some 50 calendars, all adorned with nudes.

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