A century has elapsed since the birth of Frederick W. Taylor, the so-called "Father of Scientific Management," and it has been almost seventy-five years since Taylor began to evolve his management system. Note has been taken, and will continue to be taken, of Taylor's contributions to management philosophy and practice and to the improvement and advancement of managerial and business efficiency. Taylor was an innovator and an entrepreneur in his field, and he had more than his share of emulators, rivals, and disciples. When Taylor died in 1915, the field of management consulting which he took a leading role in developing was much less institutionalized than it is today; the impact of individual consultants' personalities, ideas, and techniques was relatively greater than at present; and the recognition and identification of various programs and methods were rather highly personalized. The label of "scientific management" is the one with which we are most familiar today, but in 1915, and earlier, management programs were most likely to be identified with the names of the management engineers themselves, e.g., "Taylor system," "Gantt system," "Emerson system," and so forth. In such a setting, the activities, attitudes, and personalities of the outstanding leaders were bound to have great influence upon the manner in which this field of management consulting developed. A further consideration is that the rewards of a successful practitioner were twofold: (1) the psychological and social rewards of being recognized, and honored, as a leader and developer of a given line of thought and practice; and (2) the economic rewards of a successful practice. These two factors are almost inextricably intertwined in the development of the scientific management movement, as is effectively illustrated by the relationship between perhaps the two most popular and famous men in the field—Frederick W. Taylor and Frank B. Gilbreth.

By the time Gilbreth began his acquaintanceship and association with Taylor in 1907, the latter had laid almost all of the groundwork for his management system; in addition, he had ceased to perform consulting work for pay after 1903, the year in which he read his paper, Shop Management, before the American Society of Mechanical Engineers. Furthermore, he had gathered around him a group of disciples who formed the core of the scientific management movement, and all of whom worked with him at one time and received training in his methods. They were Henry L. Gantt, Carl G. Barth, Horace K. Hathaway, Sanford E. Thompson, and Morris L. Cooke. Taylor's role was an interesting one; he apparently considered himself the patriarch and protector of scientific management, and insisted that he was to certify who was qualified to be a "scientific management expert," and thereby have a decisive influence upon the methods used to introduce scientific management into various firms. He consistently warned acquaintances and potential clients that unless a scientific management "expert" (one whom he designated as such) introduced his system, "strikes and labor troubles" would be the result. According to Taylor, the number of experts was limited to Barth, Gantt, Hathaway, Thompson, and Cooke. (After 1911, Barth and Hathaway were most often recommended.)

Frank Gilbreth, on the other hand, had worked for years in the building trades as an independent contractor and builder. He was an active member of the Society for the Promotion of Engineering Education and of the A.S.M.E. Gilbreth became acquainted with Taylor's system by reading Shop Management, through contracting work he did for some "Taylorized" firms, and by permitting Sanford Thompson to take some time studies of workers on one of his construction jobs. Gilbreth's admiration for Taylor was unbounded, and he reputedly honored the spot in the Engineering Societies Building in New York where he first met Taylor in 1907. He ardently desired admission into the inner circle of the Taylor following, but the latter and his closest associates were reluctant to satisfy that desire. However, Taylor and Thompson were not above picking Gilbreth's brains for his ideas and methods, which they apparently intended to incorporate into an edition of their own book, Concrete, Plain and Reinforced. Yet, when Gilbreth asked for a supply of Hathaway's record-keeping blanks (evidently at no charge), the Taylorites were incensed, and they feared that Gilbreth's employment of Taylor methods in construction work was for the purpose of making "a further reputation for himself by wrongly labeling such methods as the "Gilbreth system," rather than "Taylor system." The management engineers agreed that "Mr. Gilbreth is not a man whom it would be well to place a good deal of dependence upon unless there is something further in view," and that he should be denied access to the Taylor tools and secrets unless he were "ready to pay for it."

What the roots of this attitude were is not clearly established, but Taylor appears to have abided rather consistently by this policy, for Gilbreth supplied one valuable asset for his scientific management program: he could speak "so convincingly about modern scientific management." As a result, Gilbreth was selected by Taylor to represent the latter in describing the philosophy and program of the Taylor system to the New York Civic Forum in 1911 and the Western Economic Society in 1913. He was also commissioned by Taylor to answer letters from the readers of the latter's The Principles of Scientific Management. It was Gilbreth, too, who was the original driving force in organizing the Society for the Promotion of the Science of Management in 1910, which society was later renamed the Taylor Society. There were no dissents at this time from Taylor's contention that Gilbreth "has done our cause a very fine service," but "our cause" was not intended to include Gilbreth.

Gilbreth seems to have been oblivious to the attitude of Taylor and his disciples, and, as long as he pursued the vocation of building contractor, he was considered most useful. In 1912, however, Gilbreth turned industrial management—indeed, "scientific management"—consultant. Toleration on the part of the Taylor group turned increasingly to hostility. It is not clear whether this hostility was due to the competitive economic threat presented by Gilbreth, or to a sincere belief that his professional qualifications were low. The latter certainly had to be tempered because of the assignments Taylor continued to give Gilbreth to represent the scientific management group. At any rate, Gilbreth's first big job in this field was at the New England Butt Company in Providence, and the undertaking had the early assistance of H. K. Hathaway (who surveyed the operating procedures of the company and made some recommendations for improvement) and Hathaway-trained aides Royal R. Keely and Albert R. Shipley. Nevertheless, Taylor and his associates were skeptical of the whole project, and Taylor, himself, was sure that Gilbreth's activities would precipitate a strike at the company, for Gilbreth "had no business whatever to undertake the systematizing of a large company without having any experience in this field." Hathaway believed that there was some hope of ultimate success of the Gilbreth project, but only if Gilbreth proceeded "according to the rules"—presumably, Hathaway's and/or Taylor's rules. When Gilbreth did meet with success and approval at New England Butt, the Taylorites still refused to concede him anything. "Practically all the credit for the work at the New England Butt Company," said Hathaway, "is due [Albert R.] Shipley.…" The obvious pique was due, most probably, to the fact that Gilbreth was now competing rather successfully with Taylor's chosen "experts."

While the New England Butt installation was in progress, Gilbreth, probably unwittingly, broadened and deepened the competitive nature of his relationship with Taylor and his closest followers. In 1912, Gilbreth devised and began to use a technique of work measurement which he called "micromotion study," which employed a motion picture camera to record the performance of a worker on a job, with a clock calibrated in hundredths of a minute placed in viewing range. With this technique, Gilbreth could record the motions, the time, and the conditions surrounding the job. His major objective was the recording, and ultimate simplification and improvement, of the motions of the worker. His method permitted him to time both the motions of the worker and the total job, and also provided an opportunity to reproduce the performance of the worker a relatively unlimited number of times. Gilbreth subsequently devised other schemes of recording and tracing worker motions, but he considered micromotion study to be his most important contribution to scientific management.

Work measurement was, of course, one of the most significant aspects of scientific management. The Taylor program was based on the use of stop watch time study, under which the time study technician determined what the "elements" of a particular job were, and took a number of stop watch readings of each of the elements in developing data from which the ultimate time standard for the job would be developed. Taylor, himself, considered time study to be the "foundation of scientific management," and the Taylorites were primarily interested in the timing of the job. While Gilbreth was, of course, vitally interested in establishing a standard time for the job, he was perhaps more interested in analysis of work methods and patterns and in achieving economy of motions and effort, and he therefore viewed the setting of work standards from a different point of view. It is therefore not surprising that when Gilbreth described his new technique to the scientific management leader, the reaction was something less than enthusiastic. "Showed micromotion to Taylor," he noted, "and told him what it would do and told him I was surprised that he did not recognize its meaning. He said it was undoubtedly good where one was investigating the minutia of motions. He acted so that I saw he was hurt and so I changed the subject." When Gilbreth again tried to impress upon Taylor what he conceived to be the importance of micromotion study, and suggested that his own "process and combination of clocks and motion picture machine should really go with your [Taylor's] great invention of time study," Taylor suggested that Gilbreth's "photographic scheme" might enable the latter to "develop a very fine system of time study." Taylor and his disciples maintained that time study automatically included the concept of motion study, as far as they understood it, and therefore viewed micromotion study as simply another, somewhat unimportant and perhaps irrelevant, appendage to stop watch time study. There is evidence, beginning with Taylor's initial reaction to Gilbreth's description of micromotion, that the Taylor group did not understand the methodology or implications of Gilbreth's technique. As a result, they depreciated micromotion study and increased their distrust of its originator.

Up to this point, the relationship between Gilbreth and the Taylorites was a peculiar one, indeed: Taylor and his confidants distrusted and resented Gilbreth, not the least reason for which seems to be the competitive threat he presented. Gilbreth, on the other hand, apparently assumed that he had received the Taylor blessing, for all of his personal notations reveal nothing but fierce admiration for Taylor and his other associates. Gilbreth got a rather rude awakening in regard to the real attitude of the Taylor group when Taylor and Hathaway reversed the competitive pressure in dramatic fashion.

In August, 1912, Gilbreth was hired by the Hermann, Aukam Company, handkerchief manufacturers, to direct the installation of scientific management methods in its plants. His contracts were renewed every four months throughout 1912 and 1913. In March, 1914, M. C. Hermann paid a visit to Taylor to complain about Gilbreth's work, assuming, as did Gilbreth, that the latter was an acknowledged protégé of Taylor. Hermann stated that he was paying an exorbitant amount of money for the little time and the inferior assistants Gilbreth provided for the job. Taylor suggested Hathaway for the task, and an agreement was reached to the effect that the reorganization of production methods at the handkerchief works would be assumed by him. Hathaway was under the impression that Gilbreth had cancelled his fifth contract with the firm (which Gilbreth denied), but he decided to delay final acceptance until Taylor discussed the situation with Gilbreth himself.

From the time when Gilbreth left the building trade and entered into competition with Taylor's chosen disciples, Taylor had become increasingly critical and distrustful of him; by 1914, Taylor was convinced that Gilbreth did not fully grasp the techniques and implications of scientific management. The events at the handkerchief company fit well with Taylor's predispositions and suspicions of Gilbreth's professional ability; Mr. Hermann's complaints were sympathetically received. It is not surprising, therefore, that Gilbreth's side of the story made no favorable impression upon Taylor, and Hathaway got the green light. (It is interesting to note that Taylor and Hathaway had already arranged for the latter to take over the consulting work at the firm.)

Gilbreth was aroused and bitter over the action of Taylor and Hathaway, because his fifth contract with Hermann, Aukam was not due to expire until May. However, he refrained from taking any overt counteraction, apparently because he was in the midst of making preparations for a trip to Germany, where he had a sizable consulting job awaiting him. From this point on, as might be expected, Gilbreth was an acid critic of Taylor and his associates.

Hathaway's reports on Hermann, Aukam described a confused state of affairs there, which Hathaway claimed was brought about by Gilbreth's work—especially, micromotion study. These reports were broadcast by him and Taylor to the rest of the group, and it was generally agreed that, in Hathaway's words, Frank Gilbreth was "either raving crazy or a … fakir." The Taylorites feared that he would wreak havoc in Germany, especially since newspapers were reporting German Social Democratic protests against the "Americanization" of German General Electric by Gilbreth. Carl Barth and Hathaway urged Taylor to write friends in France and Germany and "expose" Gilbreth, but the leader of the group was reluctant to do so. "I agree with you that he might discredit the whole movement in Germany," he wrote Barth, "and yet it seems hard to write and point out his incompetence." Yet Taylor was not reluctant to give his rather bald opinion of Gilbreth to American acquaintances. He suggested to Professor Lionel S. Marks of Harvard that the latter not "lay too great a stress on the work that is being done by … Frank Gilbreth," because Gilbreth was interested solely in money, and was "likely to do great harm to our cause."

On his part, Gilbreth confided his own sentiments largely to his personal note file. He privately inveighed against Taylor's "bent viewpoint" and "tactless disposition." Gilbreth did not reveal when he first recognized the "absolute lack of human element" in the Taylor system, but in view of the fact that he had wholeheartedly embraced and defended the system prior to 1914, it is obvious that his dissatisfaction stemmed at least partly from a source separate from the system itself. He apparently believed that his difficulties sprang from the variations he introduced into the Taylor program, for he wryly cautioned imaginary readers of his personal notes to "make no changes from Taylor's plan whatever or you will not be able to avail yourself of Taylor's and S.P.S.M. (Society for the Promotion of the Science of Management) militia." Throughout 1915 and 1916 he refused to divulge the names of his clients to authors who requested such information for books or articles, claiming that he had to keep mese names confidential, because "some people who … used to be my friends have made a systematic attempt to get all my jobs away from me.…"

Despite the strong hostility between the Taylorites and Frank Gilbreth, none of the parties involved publicly indicated the existence of this state of affairs. Taylor's death in 1915 undoubtedly deterred Gilbreth from doing so, and World War I extended his period of relative silence. Until 1920, the public, and perhaps most businessmen and management executives, knew little, if anything, of the conflict among the most famous and important leaders in the scientific management field. Had the conflict been purely personal, it might have remained confined to personal correspondence files and diaries; the fact that professional techniques and businesslike competition were also at stake increased the probability that at least some of the issues would be brought out in the open. Gilbreth and his wife took the initiative in doing so in December, 1920, when they delivered "An Indictment of Stop-Watch Time Study" at a Taylor Society meeting in New York.

The Gilbreths characterized time study as unethical, wasteful, and inaccurate, among other things, although they were careful to point out that they were not personally criticizing Frederick Taylor, "the great founder of stop watch time study." (It would, however, have been strange indeed if their audience, and readers of the Taylor Society Bulletin, did not construe their strongly adverse criticism of time study to be an attack upon Taylor himself, because the most popular symbol of the latter's program was the stop watch.) The Gilbreths' essential contentions were that time study did not "preserve the best that has been done," employed questionable statistical methodology in arriving at standard times, and was costly because of the inaccurate and useless data it developed. They took pains to point out that motion study was not the same as time study, nor "a part of time study," and denounced the developers and practitioners of time study for failing to "co-operate with motion study."

Obvious personal bitterness was added to professional differences when a general debate on the paper was held during the following April in Philadelphia, when, among others, Carl Barth and Dwight V. Merrick, who was Taylor's time study man as early as 1900, defended the use of stop watch time study. Barth's reference to "myself and other direct disciples of Mr. Taylor," and his "concession" that the Gilbreths had "a far more accurate time measuring device than the stop watch," were dashes of salt on some old and unhealed wounds, and served to make Frank Gilbreth's closure far more bitter than the indictment itself. Without specifically naming them, he attacked Barth, Sanford Thompson, and Merrick for defending time study because they were "interested in the profits from the sale of stop watches, time study devices or books describing stop watch time study methods." At the same time, he laid claim to his own "direct disciple-ship" by enumerating the occasions when he had acted as Taylor's chosen representative in describing the program of scientific management to different groups. (Despite his differences with Taylor, Gilbreth wished to bear the Taylor stamp of approval for personal and/or professional reasons.)

It would be interesting, and important, to know how businessmen in general, and potential clients of the management engineers in particular, reacted to this episode. It is possible that these latter were not Taylor Society members, or that they did not read the Society's Bulletin. It seems rather unlikely that there would be complete ignorance of the now-open conflict between the time study and motion study leaders in that part of the business community where there was some interest in the employment of scientific management techniques as well as scientific management consultants. What the actual effect was is not known.

For Gilbreth, of course, the issues were not resolved. He was still unhappy and displeased about the Taylor associates' lack of consideration and appreciation of him and his work. The failure of the Taylor Society, "which he started," to grant his work the recognition he believed was due it was also a sore spot. Gilbreth believed that he had no recourse but to bring his grievances into the open. "We believe we have already waited more than long enough," he told Morris L. Cooke. "The engineers of Europe and the labor unions of America have waked up to the unscientific pretensions of the proponents and advocates of the stop-watch. We refuse to be classified with those who believe that anything but the best is good enough in Scientific Management.… We shall continue to stand for Science in Management, even if we stand alone." He reminded Cooke of the Hermann, Aukam episode, and complained that micromotion study was "deliberately and intentionally misrepresented and belittled" by Taylor and his closest followers. All that he wanted from Cooke and the Taylor Society, he said, was a "square deal."

Apparently, he did not get what he considered to be a "square deal," for he continued to attack stop watch methods and to advertise the superiority of motion study. Gilbreth's popularity as a public speaker appears to have had some effect, because Sanford Thompson decided to take it upon himself to arrange a truce. "Is it wise," he admonished Gilbreth, "even from the sordid viewpoint of good business policy, to damn Taylor and all his works up hill and down before large audiences … ? You and we are working for the same end (1) to develop the science and philosophy of management, and (2) to make a darn good living." Thompson suggested that these objectives could be achieved through the employment of more "constructive" means.

Gilbreth denied he was attacking either Taylor or Thompson; "To damn your stop watch methods as being rule of thumb," he wrote, "is quite different from what you accuse me of.…" He charged that Thompson's partner, William O. Lichtner, had employed an unfair competitive argument by publicly stating that micro-motion studies were too expensive to use, but that no public retraction was made, despite the fact, Gilbreth suggested, that "neither of you know anything about it." Nevertheless, Thompson's admission that both he, unquestionably a "direct disciple" of Taylor, and Gilbreth were "working for the same end," was music to Gilbreth's ears. Gilbreth finally admitted that Thompson's "smooth and tactful" words had poured oil on troubled waters. Whether a real rapprochement was in the offing remains unknown, because before anything more tangible could be developed, Frank Gilbreth died suddenly.

The issues raised by Thompson were particularly vital, for when one consultant claims that another's basic technique (in this case, time study) is almost valueless at the same time that his rivals are insisting that his own method (micromotion study) is too expensive for businessmen to use economically, the demand for the services of all of them may be reduced. Thompson's reference to making "a darn good living" might be an indication that such was the case, but no evidence is at hand either to support or refute it. It remains, however, a reasonable assumption that such was the case.

Despite the death of Frank Gilbreth, the competitive nature of his relationship with the "direct disciples" of Taylor was continued by Mrs. Gilbreth. While she directed her own consulting business in the field of motion study and work simplification, she also concentrated on achieving recognition for her husband's role in the development of the scientific management movement and on gaining wider acceptance of the concept and program of micromotion study. Ultimately, both were achieved.

What has happened in the field of work measurement is that an accommodation has taken place, and both stop watch time study and motion study and its derivatives are used, either by individual firms or within the same work measurement program. It is, in a sense, a triumph for the Gilbreths, and particularly Frank Gilbreth, who, long ago, suggested to Taylor that motion study "should really go with your great invention of time study." It was not, of course, the kind of economic or intellectual triumph that Gilbreth might have desired in 1921, but rather a process of gradually increasing co-operation between the techniques and their representative practitioners, his more consistently sought goal. No doubt the absence of the leading antagonists and competitors expedited the process of accommodation.