Built on Glass

Summoned five years ago to the office of William C. Decker, then president of Corning Glass Works, Research Director William H. Armistead listened wide-eyed to a short but characteristically pithy discourse. "Glass is a very good material," mused Decker. "It's transparent, it's inert [non-corrosive]--but it breaks. Why don't you fix that?" Last week Corning announced that its scientists had come remarkably close to filling Decker's improbable order with a chemically strengthened glass called Chemcor. In a demonstration session at Manhattan's Plaza Hotel, Corning executives bent, twisted and banged panels of the glass. But the Chemcor, which withstands pressures up to 100,000 lbs. per sq. in. v. 7,000 Ibs. for ordinary glass, did not break.

A Bulb for Edison. Such research breakthroughs are old hat at Corning Glass. A singular mastery of technology has built the company from a tiny tableware manufacturer in rural Corning, N.Y., to a corporate colossus with 27 plants across the U.S. and sales last year of $230 million. Coming's wizardry with glass produced the first bulb for Thomas Edison's incandescent light and the window in the U.S.'s first space capsule. It is also responsible for Pyrex ovenware and a technique for spinning cast glass that has enabled Corning to capture the lion's share of the TV picture-tube business.

Corning has grown successfully under the stewardship of a single family for five generations. Founded in 1851 by a frugal Yankee named Amory Houghton, Corning is still controlled by the Houghton family, whose members are estimated to own 40% of its stock (worth roughly $440 million). Its current president is a great-great-grandson of the original Amory, boyishly intense Amory ("Amo") Houghton Jr., 36, who stepped up after Decker, 61, was named chairman last year. Like his predecessors, Amo Houghton is dedicated to the formula of freewheeling, long-range basic-research spending--he is fond of calling it "patient money"--that has become Corning's hallmark. Currently, Corning's research and development bill is running at the rate of $13 million a year--which is equivalent to 50% of the company's net profits last year.

Work Is Fun. "Sometimes," says Houghton, "we start out with one objective and end up with something 180DEG in the other direction." Fifteen years ago, random research at Corning led to a photosensitive glass. Then, imprinting images with ultraviolet rays and heat, Corning tried to market the glass as decorative wall panels. The effort flopped, but curious scientists found that intricate images could be easily etched on the new glass with acid. Now it serves in miniaturized printed circuits for missile systems. With such attention to the laboratory, Corning has built a file of 100,000 different formulas for glass and ceramics, and boasts that 25% of its sales are of products introduced in the last five years.

Technology and fat profits by themselves do not satisfy Corning Glass. "People ought to have fun in their jobs," insists Amo Houghton. "If they don't, they're probably in the wrong business." Corning sees to it that its workers do. To its base in Corning, far off the beaten track in upstate New York, the company has brought such widely different organizations as the New York Philharmonic and the Harlem Globetrotters to perform for its employees. Its handsome Corning Glass Center, which boasts a collection of historic examples of the glassmaker's art rivaling that of the British Museum, draws hundreds of thousands of visitors each year. Convinced that it is both good advertising and a social duty to create the beautiful as well as the useful, Corning also pours time and talent into the making of its world-famous Steuben crystal, even though Steuben is a regular money loser.

Challenge to Steel. Despite all this, Corning long remained a relatively little-known maker of specialty glass. But in recent years it has been moving rapidly into consumer fields. In 1958 it introduced its Corning Ware cooking utensils, made of an ultrahard glass ceramic called Pyro-ceram which was developed in more "curiosity" experiments with photosensitive glass. Its new Chemcor has a wide range of potential industrial uses as a cheap, strong substitute for plastic, but has so far been used only for a virtually unbreakable tableware called Centura.*

Putting Corning products in every U.S. home is only the beginning of Amo Houghton's ambition. Mulling over the possible uses of Chemcor--glass pipe, safety lenses for spectacles and even load-bearing walls in buildings--Houghton last week admitted: "It's sort of a wild dream, but I would like to feel that one day glass can be as important to our economy as steel is today." If skyscrapers do ever ride on glass girders, it is a good bet that Corning will make them.

* In line with its increased concentration on consumer business, Corning this week made its debut as a television sponsor, spending some $800,000 to put on the CBS telecast of the opening of Manhattan's Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts.

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