THE GENERATION GAP IN THE CORPORATION

THE clamorous demands of youthful activists, which have shaken the universities and unsettled the political parties, are spreading to the world of business. A new generation--confident, iconoclastic and thoroughly professional --has entered the nation's corporations. The young managers are steeped in the computer and case-history techniques of business schools, and they sometimes believe that they know more than their bosses. Older businessmen feel challenged and often bemused by what seems to be a paradoxical mixture of avarice and altruism in the corporate newcomers. The younger men, who have grown up in an era of affluence and clearly enjoyed the luxuries of suburbia, claim to reject traditional incentives. As Gordon Grand, president of Olin Mathieson Chemical Corp., says: "The days of the stick and carrot are gone."

Opting for Impact. What, then, do the young managers want? Very largely, they want almost instant responsibility, a chance for individual expression or, as one General Electric personnel psychologist put it, "opportunity for impact." They are getting the message through to chief executives that they are not willing to put in the usual stint as a trainee, shuffling paper and learning company routines. "These younger, better-educated people demand a different kind of direction," says Edward J. Hanley, chairman of Allegheny Ludlum Steel Corp. "You have got to give them their head, put them in positions where they can make mistakes." Because many large companies are accustomed to stockpiling skills, the brightest young executives often move into small firms, where they can more readily assume the responsibility that they impatiently demand.

Today's young businessman is a member of the committed generation who insists on meaning and a sense of social responsibility in both his job and his life. Martin Gerstel, 27, a founder of Alza Corp., a California pharmaceutical research firm, argues: "It is not good enough any more just to be a manager, to do a good job making and selling candy bars. You have to feel that the product or service coming out of your organization is really important to society." Other young managers demand time off from their jobs to do consulting for black businessmen or to assist in urban development programs. They prefer to work for companies involved in projects such as pollution control or urban renewal.

For all their idealism, young men want --and get--record salaries. "The young employee is more rapacious these days," says Robert E. Cody, a vice president of California's Security Pacific National Bank. "The fact that his boss worked 20 years to get where he is does not move him." George T. Henning, 27, assistant to the comptroller of Boston's Eastern Gas and Fuel Associates, agrees. He earns $17,000 and intends to be making $45,000 by the time he is 35. George Woodland, vice president of Milwaukee's Rex Chainbelt Corp., complains: "A lot of these kids are looking at money and not relating it to what they contribute."

Not long ago, the demands would have been unrealistic. Now they are most often met because there is a seller's market for skills; the low birth rate during the Depression has created a shortage of men between 30 and 40 years old. Companies are forced to promote younger and younger men to fill the ranks of middle managers. In addition, the tremendous changes in technology have put a premium on up-to-date education, and that also favors young men.

Under the High Wire. Older businessmen--who grew up in the Depression, fought in World War II and went to college on the G.I. Bill--have to run hard to keep up. "Many older men feel that techniques have passed them by," says Dr. Russell Cansler, director of placement at North western's Graduate School of Business Administration. "They see promotions and raises they want going to men ten or 15 years their junior." In an effort to acquire the new computer-oriented management skills that are being so highly rewarded, older executives are enrolling in business school. More than one-third of the students in Northwestern's graduate business school night courses are men over 40.

Many young managers, finding that they can get more and more money and responsibility by changing jobs, do so with startling frequency. Dr. Edgar Schein of the M.I.T. Sloan School of Management estimates that companies lose half of their new college graduates within the first three to five years of employment. Graduates of 15 years ago often regarded a job, like a marriage, as being for life; today's young men are more inclined to equate it with an affair--good until something more fetching comes along. George Robbins, dean of U.C.L.A.'s Graduate School of Business Administration, ascribes the job turnover to an increase in specialization, which tends to put loyalty to a profession above loyalty to a company. Underlying everything is the security of a full-employment economy. The young executive knows that if he fumbles, he can find another job elsewhere.

Neither idealism nor ambition is new, of course, but now almost an entire generation is chanting the same tune. Top managers are listening, deeply aware and bothered that many college graduates shun the business world. At Harvard, for example, only 6% of the 1968 graduating class went into business. Unless the corporation is made a more rewarding place to spend a lifetime, the best minds of the generation may go into other fields, such as teaching or government. Still, the generation gap in business may be a highly constructive force, pushing management to decentralize, to delegate more authority, and to become more sensitive to the needs of the young men--and women --who will guide U.S. business into a new technological age.

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