The Ultimate Key to Success

The Ultimate Key To Success

(1)

Every day, a fatherless boy gazed at the fence separating his family's ramshackle cabin from a plush club's golf course. What chance did a poor Mexican-American who'd dropped out of school after the seventh standard have of being welcomed into that world?

Yet the boy was determined. First, he gained entrance to the grounds as a gardener. Then he began caddying and playing a few holes at dusk. He honed his putting skills by hitting balls with a soda bottle wrapped in adhesive tape.

Today no fence keeps Lee Trevino, one of the world's top golfers, from being welcomed into any club in the United States.

Sure, Trevino had talent. But talent isn't what kept him from quitting after he placed an embarrassing 54th in his first US Open golf tourna­ment. His secret was perseverance.

Persistent people know they can succeed where cleverer and more talented people fail. You can succeed, too, if you follow their strategies. As author Christopher Morley once said, "Bag shots are only little shots that keep shooting."

(2)

Achievers may lose their jobs, get rejected, watch their companies fail or see their ideas founder. But they take advantage of adversity, carving opportunities from change.

In her 30-year career, one American broadcaster has been fired 18 times. But every time, she set her sights on something bigger and better.When no major American radio station would hire her because they thought women couldn't attract an audience, she moved to Puerto Rico and polished her Spanish. When a news agency refused to send her to an uprising in the Dominican Republic, she scraped together money to fly there and sell her own stories.

In 1981 she was fired by a New York radio station for not having kept up with the times and was out of work for more than a year. One day she talked about her idea for a new talk show to a man who worked for NBC radio.

"I'm sure we'd be interested," he said-and then left NBC. She met another man at NBC radio and presented the idea again. He also praised it, and then disappeared. So she persuaded a third man to hire her-but he wanted her to host a show on a political radio station.

"I don't know enough about national politics to make this work," she told her husband. Yet in the summer of 1982 she went on the air. Drawing on her familiarity with a microphone and her easy, confes­sional style, she talked about what America's Independence Day meant to her and invited callers to do the same.

Listeners connected immediately, and she became famous. Today, Sally Jessy Raphael is the two-time Emmy-award-winning host of her own television show, reaching millions of viewers daily throughout the United States, Canada, the UK and Asia.

"I could have let those 18 firings prevent me from doing what I wanted," she says. "Instead, I let them spur me on."

(3)

SUCCESSFUL people radiate a positive attitude that inspires others to help them realize their dreams.

He was the son of a seamstress and an impoverished trunk maker. He worked his way through school in an impoverished New York neighbourhood. He loved theatre and longed to see a Broadway show. But he couldn't afford a ticket.

Through sheer energy and will, he rose to become a television stage manager. But he wanted to produce plays for people like himself, who could never afford to see one on Broadway.

He started a drama group in a church basement and later rented an outdoor amphitheatre. One of his company's early plays, a boisterous production of Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew, attracted enthu­siastic crowds-but not one drama critic. Without publicity, how could he attract donations?

So one day, he showed up at the New York Times, demanding to see drama critic Brooks Atkinson. Atkinson was in London, his assistant, Arthur Gelb, told the young man.

"Then I'll wait here until Mr Atkinson returns," he said firmly. Gelb decided to hear him out. The trunk maker's son passionately spoke of his fine cast of actors, and the applause of his audience, mostly

immigrants who had never seen live theatre. Yet if the Times didn't review his production, he'd have to pack up by week's end.

Moved by the man's determination and spirit, Gelb agreed to review the production that night.

The evening sky darkened with clouds as Gelb showed up at the outdoor theatre. At intermission, rain drenched the stage. The young man grabbed Gelb as he ran for cover: "I know critics don't normally review half a show, but I beg you to make an exception."

That night, Gelb wrote a small, favourable review of the first half of the play and explained the production company's need for financing. A day later, Herman Levin, prod ucer of My Fair Lady, sent a messenger to the production company with a cheque for 5750--enough in 1956 to keep the show afloat until summer's end. When Brooks Atkinson returned, he saw the play and raved about it in his Sunday column.

Soon Joe Papp was giving free Shakespeare productions to all of New York. He became, until his death last year, perhaps the greatest modern influence in American theatre, producing such shows as A Chorus Line, Flair and The Three-penny opera. He once said the cornerstone of his persistence was a conviction that the theatre is important to other people's lives.

"if you don't believe his, you might as well give up."

(4)

SUCCESSFUL people know that being persistent involves making choices. And choice involves risk, at this 58-year-old American farm-products salesman discovered.

For years, he had experimented with different strains of popcorn to produce a lighter, fluffier variety with few unpopped kernels. When he finally grew his ideal strain, no seed buyer wanted it because it cost more to produce.

"If I could just get the public to try the popcorn, I know they'd buy it," he told his partner.

"If you feel that strongly about it, why don't you sell it yourself?" his partner replied.

If "Red Bow" failed, he might lose lots of money. At his age, did he really want to take such a risk?

He hired a marketing firm to develop a name and image for his popcorn. Soon Orville Redenbacher was selling his Gourmet Popping Corn across the United States. Today, it's the best-selling popcorn in the world-all because Redenbacher was willing to risk what he already had to get what he wanted.

"I think most of my drive comes from people telling me I can't do something," says Redenbacher, now 84. "That just makes me want to prove them wrong."

(5)

AT Times, even the most persistent person feels overwhelmed, and needs the support of others who really believe. Consider this worker in an industrial laundry.

He lived in a caravan and earned $60 a week. His wife worked nights, but even with both jobs they barely made ends meet. When their baby developed an ear infection, they had to give up their telephone to pay for antibiotics.

The laundry worker wanted to be a writer. Nights and weekends the clack-clack of his typewriter filled the caravan. He spent all his spare money on sending his manuscripts to publishers and agents.

Everyone rejected them. The form letters were short and impersonal. He couldn't even be certain his work was being read.

One day, the laundry worker read a novel that reminded him of his own work. He sent his manuscript to Doubleday, the book's publisher. The manuscript was given to Bill Thompson.

A few weeks later, a warm, personal reply came in the mail. The manuscript had too many flaws. But Thompson did believe the laun­dry worker had promise as a writer and encouraged him to try again.

Over the next 18 months, the laundry worker sent the editor two more manuscripts. The editor rejected both. The laundry worker began work on a fourth novel. But with bills mounting, he began to lose hope.

One night, he threw his manuscript into the garbage. The next day, his wiife fished it out. "You shouldn't be quitting," she told him. "Not when you're so close."

The laundry worker stared at the pages. Perhaps he no longer believed in himself, but his wife did. And so did a New York editor he'd never met. So, ever-^,.1 day, he wrote another 1500 words.

When he finished, he sent the novel to Bill Thompson-but he was sure it wouldn't sell.

He was wrong. Thompson's publishing house handed over a $2500 advance, and Stephen King's horror classic, Carrie, was born. It went on to sell five million copies and was made into one of the top-grossing films of 1976.

(6)

SUCCESSFUL people understand that no one makes it to the top in a single bound. What truly sets them apart is their willingness to keep putting one step in front of the other-no matter how rough the terrain.

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good day!

(compiled by g prasad)