Letters From an Old Time Salesman to His Son

Dear Hal:

I just put down the evening paper and came very nearly dropping off to sleep when your mother reminded me that I’d better answer your last letter tonight while I had the time and there was no company around.

I think I enjoyed your last letter more than any you’ve written recently, largely because it breathed a better spirit of optimism over general business conditions and your job in particular and I must say that it was the first letter you have sent me lately in which you were not “crabbing” about something or other.

I’m glad to see those symptoms. For the life of me I cannot see why a big, red-headed galoot like you, with a good job, a superior line of merchandise and a world of possibilities before you would find time to do anything else but figure out ways and means of capitalizing your opportunities to the fullest extent and I really believe you are “rounding to” and if so—if the signs don’t fail me—you’re just now putting yourself into a correct mental attitude to commence to really grow.

You know, Red, the only real place in life for a “crab” is in the bottom of the restless ocean. Of course, I know they occasionally get out of that sphere, but when they do they generally get gobbled up by some quicker thinking member of either the fish or the human family, so there’s really no credit to be gained by trying to pattern after an imitation devil-fish.

I’ve done a good deal of thinking about that snappy looking bunch of salesmen you’ve gathered around you, as I mentioned in my last letter, and I’ve been wondering if you’re going to turn out to be a good “picker” of men, or if you just happened to bump up against a kind Providence. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and believe that you selected them carefully, with an eye to the future, but your responsibility has only begun now that you’ve separated the wheat from the chaff.

Next to trying to build a Ziegfeld chorus with a bunch of knock-kneed runners-up in a cafeteria, I don’t know any harder job than trying to make business men and executives out of a bunch of potential baseball fans, pool sharks and dance hounds, but someone has to do it and it’s not a colossal task, Boy, if you approach it with the proper amount of tolerance and patience.

Not so long ago, it was my privilege to accidentally meet the directing head of one of the largest industries in this country. As we chatted over our cigars, I inquired to what single thing he attributed the success of his company. He replied quickly, “The exceptional personnel of our organization.” Being in an inquisitive mood and finding him a willing—yes—an enthusiastic talker regarding his company, I further inquired the method in training men for higher and more responsible positions in his company. He replied, “Our organization some years back got away from the prehistoric idea that the secrets of each job should be locked in the heart of the man holding it.

“You know, in olden times, men were afraid to teach subordinates for fear they would become so proficient that they would crowd out the one holding the good job. The constant and ever-increasing demand for men qualified to hold the highest positions has generated a feverish anxiety and ambition to train men to take the place of his immediate superior, so that practically every man, from the office boy to the president, is competing with each other to turn out the most and highest caliber experts and executives.”

Waxing reminiscent, this great man related how one man in their organization, whose hair was now silvered by many winters, was the “daddy” over a hundred of the bigger men of the company—the man who chose and had trained over a hundred men to be capable of assuming the greater responsibilities of a great industry! Naturally enough our smoking-car conversation carried us to the discussion of just what was the measure of success in the business world and I think you can appreciate that I was not at all surprised to hear this man—this great captain of industry, whose very name in the business world was synonymous with great accomplishments—say with no little show of feeling, “If, when I pass out of active business life, it can truthfully be said of me that I was a builder of men, I crave no greater epitaph.”

Red, that man spake a sermon in one sentence! Boy, the pyramids of Egypt have already been built; man in his wisdom has built skyscrapers, bridged rivers and spanned plains, yet the greatest work of the artisan, the noblest piece of sculpture and the most magnificent monument of the ages is in your hands for fashioning. The organization that you have the honor to be a part of is a breathing, living thing.

If the men who serve under your direction, Red, are not allowed to grow—if their ambition is not aroused to a point where they fit themselves with your help to take your job, or jobs like it, you cannot hope to gain promotion. Leaving out the personal side of it, if yourself and men in similar positions accept your present positions with smug satisfaction and take no part in an effort to be constantly building, the foundation of your house will surely crumble as dry rot and decay sets in and your temple will some day fall upon your head.

And Red, don’t be selfish to the point of being afraid of personal handicaps that you might impose on yourself. Your company needs trained branch house managers, district managers, sales managers and other executives. If they choose your right-hand man and leave a hole in your organization, don’t grouch about it—don’t complain about their having broken up your organization—Good Lord, Boy, what higher compliment could they pay you than to thus acknowledge that they consider you a builder of men? Just start in and train another, for the day you can honestly walk in and tell the Boss that you’ve trained a man who can fill your place better than you can, he will not waste much time finding a bigger and better job for you, Red.

While I think you’re too young to really appreciate the pride one feels in the successes of their own children, you can take it from me it’s some feeling and I don’t know anything in this world that’s so closely akin to it as the satisfaction and genuine pleasure one derives in watching the successes of those men whom you have personally coached in their earlier successes.

Think it over Boy! The duty you owe to your company, or the world at large, isn’t at all performed when you have merely achieved personal success—why bless your heart, one graduate from Red’s school is worth more to the company than a single sale of the entire output of their largest cannery.

Fate has entrusted to your keeping as likely looking a bunch of youngsters as I’ve seen in many a day. What are YOU going to do with ’em old Red Top? Are you going to be satisfied with just making good salesmen out of them—are you short-sighted enough to think that’s all that’s expected of you?

Mother and I were discussing these things the other night and she gradually led me out over my head in the argument. She always goes way back before my time and she did when she said that God made the first man out of a bunch of clay. The only comeback I could think of was, “Gee, what an inspiration that ought to be to Red, considering how much better material he has to work with.”

Your loving,

“DAD.”