I was a wee tad of a lad, but I remember that they were terrible times. You could not buy anything. You got plenty of orders, but you couldn't sell anything because you couldn't buy anything so you couldn't make anything. Inventories were at an all-time low and just about every component and every piece of test equipment was back-ordered.
You had to wait 40 to 60 weeks to get a partial shipment of tantalum capacitors or carbon-film resistors or semiconductors. If you wanted to buy a new transistor, the vendor often insisted that you also order an older one that nobody could use. You took the salesman to lunch and pleaded for delivery.
Two episodes stand out in my recollection. I was visiting the VP of marketing of a leading semiconductor company a few days after a cargo plane, possibly encouraged by a sudden gust of wind, rolled off the runway at SFO and settled in San Francisco Bay. Nobody was hurt, but there was lots of talk about it in Silicon Valley for a few weeks and more than a few jokes.
Casually, just to make conversation, I asked my host if he had any product on that plane. Without a moment's hesitation, he replied: "Every single delinquent order."
A week or so later, I visited Motorola Semiconductor and learned of the arrival there of a pulse generator from E-H Research, a leading pulser manufacturer run by Jack Hubbs, an acerbic individual (the "H" of E-H), who knew more about pulsers than anybody.
When the Motorola engineers opened the box, they removed the generator, plugged it in, hung on a load, flipped some switches, twirled some knobs and found-to their surprise-no pulses. Motorola and E-H had a longstanding, almost symbiotic relationship. Motorola sold power transistors to E-H and E-H sold pulsers to Motorola.
Puzzled, because they knew that E-H made high-class equipment, the Motorola engineers did what any of us would do. They jiggled the power plug in the power outlet. They jiggled every switch they could find. Finally, in desperation, they opened the case and found, where the power-output transistors were supposed to be, an empty space and a note from Hubbs. "We shipped. You SOBs didn't."
Well the shortages persevered. Industry pundits proclaimed a national emergency, for those shortages, they said, would be with us forever. It was necessary, they urged, for the government to intervene, perhaps to design some sort of rationing system.
It turns out that reality did not heed the experts. The days of shortages went away. Forever. Well, maybe forever.
In contrast, we can see that the situations we face today-in industry, in business and in society-will be with us forever. Well, maybe forever.