The decade may be remembered for flower power, but Harold Wilson's "white heat [tech] revolution" was unfolding

In March 1960, the editor of The Director wondered if this would be the decade in which man set foot on the moon. Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, of course, took their first steps on July 21, 1969. But we weren't always on the nail. In the same edition, the magazine ran an article about "wife screening": "A salesman is away from home a good deal. No wife is expected to like this, but will she tolerate it or will she nag her husband until he changes his job?" An ad for Senior Service cigarettes—"The perfection of cigarette luxury"—appeared along with a call to relocate to Great Yarmouth—"the new hive of industry".

Some of The Director's editorial from the 1960s now seems quaint: "If your chairman's none too bright, don't despair. It's precisely the lovably dim executive who can keep the company afloat" (June 1969). Some makes us cringe—an article appears in the mid-60s about how to integrate "coloureds" into the workplace—but the decade's coverage still accurately reflects the UK at the time: a post-industrial country in flux, but advancing scientifically and technologically nevertheless.

The UK's economy was in the doldrums, but The Director was keen to highlight industry's successes and to look optimistically to the future. The music, fashion and design sectors (where women entrepreneurs were more obviously making their mark) were truly swinging. But there were more causes for cheer than Biba, the Beatles, Terence Conran and Mary Quant.

In May 1960 we predicted an airline "revolution", and in 1967 interviewed Sir George Edwards, MD of British Aircraft, who was bullish: a Concorde model was being tested, its flight date listed as February 28, 1968. "To be in this industry, nationalised or not, you need strong nerves," he said. "If I've got anything to do with it, we're not going to stay stuck where we are." The supersonic craft took its maiden flight in 1969.

The Director spotted the growth potential of a number of professions, including the proliferation of headhunters and public relations consultants in 1961. It also predicted a boom in "shopping centres" and in management training, to bring the UK in line with the US.
In 1963, we said: "After Harvard, one is told, the American student doubles his earnings. A carrot of that kind in Britain would fill the management courses, present and to come, overnight."

We had high hopes for the telecoms sector in 1967: "Britain has suddenly discovered the telephone." And "transnational" business was really taking off in 1969: "One of the world's most powerful engines of prosperity is the supranational company, straddling frontiers in the quest for new markets and production bases," wrote the editor. "Britain is well placed to lead the field—especially in the 'counter-invasion' of the US."

Much has changed, but a lot has stayed the same. While P&O was winning praise in 1960 for its innovative new ship The Canberra—"a floating exhibition of British skill"—there were also concerns about a skills shortage. Could Britain supply the "grade one brains" needed to grow the electronic computer industry and keep up with "Russia's fine form in the technological race"?

Other issues that concerned the editorial team then resonate today. "Drab and featureless offices" were condemned, as the magazine explored how business owners could "improve their offices with good design, sensible furniture and worthwhile pictures".

Directors' health was in the spotlight. Slimming had become a much more organised business in 1961; CEOs were advised to watch their weight—via "health salons" or "meal-in-a-glass" diets—and avoid the "problem drinking" curse that had hit the US. And we were wondering in 1963 how to attract "high achievers" to a business and whether the board was to blame for a graduate who flops—sound familiar?

Senior executives in 1966 were attending too many meetings that were "dull and boring"—a common complaint today. And the John Lewis Partnership was praised for its success and power-to-the-people philosophy. "It is a viable business concern," wrote Alan Parker in 1967. "Mr Spedan Lewis not only got his main decision right. In some matters he was way ahead of his time." We said much the same thing in May 2007, when outgoing boss Sir Stuart Hampson made the front cover.

Radical ideas were put out there for discussion. The Director wasn't afraid to confront the government. Its June 1969 cover read: "The Labour government... must know that there is now but one service they can perform for the country—and that is to go." One year before that, the idea was mooted to put "successful managers" into positions of power within the government. That would be today's quango. Thankfully, we no longer concern ourselves with anything along the lines of "how to stay married to a director", a story featuring, among others, Caroline Conran and Joan Laker in 1967.

The Director charted the upheaval and demise of certain industries as well. From Wall Street's Black Monday on May 28, 1962, and the farmers' concerns over a Common Market the same year, to the decline of family-run laundry businesses, because the housewife had been convinced by the manufacturers of washing machines and detergents "that she owes it to herself and her family to wash at home", it was all there.

The UK's troubled motor industry was documented. It had been closely linked to the health of the economy in 1960. In 1964, the managing director of the Leyland Motor Corporation, Donald Stokes, told The Director: "Our aim is to be better than the others, to be continually ahead of our competition." Yet by the time it had become British Leyland in 1968, the company was associated with labour unrest, unpopular cars and lack of management strategy. It limped on for a couple more decades, nationalised in the 1970s and becoming the Rover Group in the 1980s.

By the late 1960s, students and hippies were protesting about the Vietnam war, "the Troubles" in Northern Ireland began, the first TV ad in colour had hit British screens, and Britain's first "hole in the wall" automatic cash dispenser had been unveiled.

In December 1969, Young & Rubicam's president, Edward Ney, spoke to The Director about the future of communication: "We are pretty certain to have picture telephones so that we can talk business internationally and see the person we're doing business with. Much selling will be done by computer ordering... it is not far-fetched to imagine someone in London ordering from a store in Tokyo... I am convinced that the satellite system will have a profound effect on youth. Youth wants miracles and it wants them now. Global communications is one sphere in which the young are getting their miracles." Clever guy.