Akio Toyoda seasoned by decade of fire

TOYOTA CITY — The Akio Toyoda most people see today is the charismatic, car-crazy captain of industry who is just as quick behind the wheel as he is with a disarming, self-effacing joke.

He is not just the frontman for the global car-making juggernaut founded by his grandfather. He is also a frontman for the global car-making juggernaut that is Japan's auto industry — and by extension, for all of Japan Inc., which leans on the auto sector as its most important engine.

This month, Toyoda marked his 10th anniversary at the helm of Toyota Motor Corp., seamlessly blending the tradition of family stewardship with a youthful restlessness to shake things up — even at 63. Toyoda makes change look easy, and his company is arguably in its best shape ever.

But it wasn't always that way. Toyoda's modern-day persona was forged in the fire of 10 tough years.

The first third of his tenure was spent fighting one crisis after another. The next third was spent regrouping. And only in the most recent period has he finally shifted his focus to the future.

When I met Toyoda, back in 2007, it was hard for me to imagine him someday leading a company that was then poised to surpass General Motors as the world's biggest automaker.

I had been invited to Fuji Speedway for the launch of the Lexus IS F sports sedan, a pet project of the "young prince," as the domestic media liked to dub Toyoda. I was new on the job and didn't know what to expect. People said Toyoda rarely talked to the press and was media shy.

Then a spritely 51, Toyoda peeled off some hot laps in the IS F and posed for photos wearing a black Lexus racing suit. The belt was embroidered with a Japanese flag and the words "A. Toyoda."

I had heard him described as affable. But to me, he seemed aloof, rigid, even ill at ease.

Less than two years later, he was taking the stage as the newly appointed, third-generation Toyoda to run the namesake company. Little about him seemed to have changed.

He took the reins in the midst of the global financial crisis; Toyota had just posted its first full-year operating loss in seven decades. At his debut press conference as president, Toyoda seemed like a deer caught in the headlights while comparing his start to "setting sail during a storm."

And the seas only got choppier. Next came the global product recall meltdown, embroiling millions of vehicles as Toyota battled accusations of unintended acceleration and other quality lapses.

Then came the 2011 earthquake-tsunami in Japan that killed thousands of people and threw the country's auto industry offline for months, torpedoing production and sales.

In his early trials, Toyoda's leadership was a little lackluster. I upbraided him as "No-show Akio" in one commentary for keeping a low profile as the global recall crisis exploded around him.

But those crises — especially the recalls and his testimony before Congress — were a wake-up call to the executive. Toyoda had feared losing his job. But struggling through the slump was actually empowering. It motivated him to dig deeper, take full responsibility and tap a root of family pride.

He came out of his shell and let his inner Akio shine. He started talking about his family. His wardrobe got funkier. He began hanging with celebrities. In short, he morphed into Mr. Personality.

All while getting Japan's biggest automaker back on its feet and stronger than ever and putting some car-guy street cred behind a brand that was desperate to get pulses pounding.

In Japan's drab world of gray-suited salarymen, the ever-smiling Toyoda truly broke the mold. And his persona perfectly reinforces the company's humble, approachable, authentic brand image.

Last month, while giving the commencement address at his alma mater, Babson College in Wellesley, Mass., Toyoda infused his speech — delivered in flawless English — with shoutouts to late-night partying, "Game of Thrones" and American doughnuts, which he called "joyful and astonishing."

What other Japan-brand CEO could possibly pull that off? Certainly none of Akio's counterparts.

Toyoda's main message was: "Don't be boring." And it's his mantra for remaking the company.

It took Toyoda a decade to hit this groove.

Yet the decade ahead promises to be just as turbulent. Toyoda himself incessantly warns of the "once-in-a-century" upheaval that looms with the advent of autonomous driving, electrification, connectivity, artificial intelligence and a host of new rivals from China and Silicon Valley.

Does the ever-evolving Akio still have what it takes? He faces a formidable to-do list.

First, he must tackle that onslaught of disruptive technologies. Toyoda has positioned Toyota for the wild ride by seeding billions of dollars across the world in a gamut of new-technology ventures, from Uber to AI startups.

Cash-rich Toyota can afford this, for now. But Toyota will one day have to cull the losing bets from the winners. And Toyoda will have to show that the money was wisely targeted and not just a scattershot gamble.

Second, Toyoda must devise a way to leverage the vaunted Toyota Production System in a world where more workers sit behind computers than stand beside assembly lines.

Toyota still touts its production system as the immutable secret to the company's success. But how can it be applied in a world dominated by software engineers and robotics? What will be TPS 2.0?

Finally, Toyoda must manage a successful handover when he finally steps back. I say step back, not step down, because he could remain involved as chairman for a long, long time.

Toyoda admits he still hasn't found the right successor. And given his larger-than-life presence and outsized personality, it is easy to see why picking one is no small task.

Who can fill his shoes? And, perhaps more importantly, who would want to try?