Carl F. Thelin

How and why did I get into safety?

            How in the world did I end up as a gnat-like figure fighting dragons? I think it stems from losing my hearing as an infant. Growing up as a deaf kid was good and bad. Bad: other kids picked on me and beat up more than once because I was strange. A deaf kid that does not respond when someone calls him is not just “stuck up”. I could not hear the call, or did not know that they were calling me.

            Good: as the oldest of three boys in the family, I knew adults who understood my handicap. I grew up in a pre-war Milwaukee downtown neighborhood slum. Imagine how safe Milwaukee was in the 1930s; an eight year old kid like me could walk far from home to visit the library where I could read books; and study exhibits at the museums. That was good activity for a kid that could not hear well. I do not recall being molested or afraid of anything. From my perspective, bigotry was non-existent. Policemen would hassle me for childish pranks such as climbing up on buildings or going into abandoned basements. Never did I dream of sassing a cop. In those days, every kid respected the policeman.

            I went to the Paul Binner School for the Deaf. What a great place it was. Our school was on the top floor of a multistory Milwaukee high school. Our recess playground was on the roof, surrounded by a high chain link fence. I loved it because it was so windy there, and the older bullies were not there. Teachers taught hand-sign language to pupils who were profoundly deaf. The rest of us learned to read lips. That was good for me because my hearing gradually improved until I was about eighteen years old. With lip reading skills, I was free to be part of the regular population. However, from middle school on through college I had problems. If there were any electronic hearing aids then, my family did not know of them. Most college instructors who did the lecturing and teaching did not always give me a clear view of their mouth. Fortunately, I loved to read, so I could keep up. Other students called me “The Potato Chip Kid” because I did not eat mid-day lunch in the big cafeteria. I grabbed a big bag of chips and hit the books in the dorm room during that period. I got good grades.

            Even though I graduated with a good education and got good jobs, there were still problems for me socializing. Conversing with one or more people who were close to me was good. Trying to understand anyone in a noisy room full of people was awful. The din of conversations overwhelms what little hearing I have; the ability to read lips of people who were smoking or drinking was also awful. While representing Consumers Union at conferences I had troubles at the inevitable cocktail parties.  In a conventional sense, I am anti-social. Because of being picked-on as a “dumb kid”, I also am defensive and very upset with others who “lie, cheat and steal” -- the bad boys. My Mom and Dad were the opposite of me. They were attractive, popular and wealthy (before the Depression). They were Republicans in the days of FDR. They were not bigoted. They taught me to stand up for others who were picked-on.

            ADULT LIFE 

            Designing cars (or anything else) was a natural for a guy with a strong ability to visualize things in three dimensions. I could design many things in my imagination before I began to put the image on paper – drafting. There I was successful. My bosses talked to me, I talked to the paper, and everything worked out well for a guy who was hard of hearing. That it the background that led me to become an early advocate for passenger safety in automobiles. Unfortunately, I worked for the number one maker of cars who had managers who told me, “We don’t design cars to have accidents. The people who get hurt in crashes deserve to get hurt because they are stupid.” That explains why the auto industry always insisted that more expensive driver training and law enforcement were the solutions to the problem of injuries in cars.

GENERAL MOTORS follows