Who's That With Charlie?. Charles S. Mechem

but it was far from it. Driving up was fairly simple. It was broad daylight, usually around 8:00 a.m., and everyone was rested. The drive back was something else again. We had played a round of golf on that magnificent and difficult golf course; it was usually hot and humid; and we finished the day with drinks and dinner in the clubhouse. By the time the drive back began, it was usually about 10:00 p.m., and my eyelids were about to close before we even got in the car. To his credit, Paul always sat up front in the passenger seat, and, though his eyes may have closed from time to time, he made sure that mine did not!

      Of the many funny things that happened during our golf rounds, perhaps the most memorable (which Neil Armstrong and I have laughed about over and over again) came on a day when, before we had teed off, there was a light rain that left the golf course slick, but not by any stretch unplayable. We teed off and everyone was in reasonably good shape after his drive. Now, you must understand this central fact: Paul was a very good golfer. He was consistently in the fairway and almost always on the green in regulation (or close) without great difficulty. By that time in his life, he wasn’t particularly long, but he was very accurate. In any event, his second shot slid off a little bit to the right (almost certainly because of the wetness of the ground and the ball) and skidded into a bunker to the right of the first green. My guess is that Paul Brown had not been in a bunker for many years, but he walked into this one and took his first shot. The ball hit the lip and came right back to where it started. Another shot produced the same result. Paul said, “Well, at least I don’t have to move my feet.” His next shot skidded across the green and rolled down into a bunker on precisely the other side of the green. By this time, he is lying about seven and by the time he finally got out and holed the putt, he had made a twelve. Now remember, this is on the very first hole of the match! That sets a rather dismal tone for the rest of the day.

      We walked somberly to the next tee. No one said a word. We played number two, number three, and number four without a single word uttered by anyone. We didn’t know what to say and we felt that we shouldn’t say anything until Paul did. At long last, walking down the fifth fairway, Paul turned and said, “I think that was the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me in my entire life!” We all laughed, put our arms around him, and said, “Shake it off; you’ll beat us anyway.” And away we went.

      AS THE YEARS went by I was becoming more and more involved with another of my clients, Taft Broadcasting Company. We took the company public in the summer of 1959 and followed that with the listing of the company shares on the New York Stock Exchange. I was named secretary of the company and later served on its board. I liked everything about this client. Little did I know that I would one day be part of it. Much more on this shortly.

      AS I LOOK back after so many years, I truly believe that I learned more from my clients and the matters I handled for them than they ever learned from me. Let me give you a few examples.

      The first story concerns a company called Rainbow Crafts and its founder Joe McVicker. Rainbow Crafts owned and manufactured Play-Doh, the incredibly successful children’s molding compound. Joe McVicker was a very impressive fellow, and he and I became good friends. I once asked him how he had come up with Play-Doh, and the story he told absolutely amazed me. Joe’s brother-in-law ran a company, Kutol Products, that made wallpaper cleaner; Joe was also involved in this business. Most of those under fifty reading this book probably don’t know what wallpaper cleaner was; it was a spongy-type substance containing a cleaning agent that was used to brighten dirty or dusty wallpaper. Joe’s sister ran a nursery school in the Washington, D. C., area, and she observed that if the wallpaper cleaner made by Kutol didn’t have a cleaning agent in it, it would make a wonderful thing for the children in her nursery school to play with. Joe—and I assume his brother-in-law—figured out how to remove any harsh or toxic substances from the wallpaper cleaner and—it became Play-Doh! I’m sure it wasn’t as simple as it sounds but many great ideas look simple in retrospect. As a kid I helped my mother and dad more than once clean the wallpaper using wallpaper cleaner. If I had only known the potential for the stuff I was holding in my hands! What I learned from Joe’s story is that the essence of entrepreneurship—at least the American variety—is “think outside the box” (my friend W. R. Howell, former CEO of J. C. Penney, calls it “thinking the unthinkable”) and always try to envision the greatest possible potential no matter how mundane the beginning may be.

      Joe McVicker obviously was the classic example of American entrepreneurship at its best. Having said that, I want to say a word about the finest entrepreneur and business builder I think I have ever known—my good friend Dick Farmer of the Cintas Corporation. Dick’s grandfather was actually a circus clown. In his off time he apparently was a “rag picker” who gathered up rags, cleaned them, and sold them. His son, Dick’s father, took this humble beginning and started Cintas, a company that laundered and cleaned uniforms used by companies of all sorts. It was this company that Dick joined right out of Miami University. Through his personality, intelligence, and drive, he has built Cintas into a dominant force in the industry and one of the most respected corporations in the country. He also happens to be the greatest salesman I think I have ever met. I know it’s an old joke to describe someone as a person who could “sell ice cubes to Eskimos,” but I honestly think Dick could do it.

      I am proud to say that Dick and I share the same alma mater—Miami University. Dick and his charming wife, Joyce, are among Miami University’s major benefactors, and the business school, the Farmer School of Business, is named for Dick—as it should be.

      THE SECOND STORY makes me smile every time I think of it—and I think you will see why. I represented a young man who was brilliant and hard driving, but he was one of the most unpleasant people I have ever known. He was constantly criticizing my work and berating me for not accomplishing more on his behalf. I always fought back and argued, and we had some pretty strong sessions. One day he called me and was particularly irate about something. I was suffering from some kind of bug that had settled in my throat and, during the ugly telephone conversation, I suddenly became unable to speak a single word or make any sound whatever! He would carry on and then pause waiting for a response, but I made none because I was unable to even utter a squawk. Finally, after several attempts to provoke me he finally said, “I guess you’re just tired of arguing with me, aren’t you?” Again I could say nothing. He said that he was sorry for the way he had dealt with me and hoped that I would continue to be his lawyer. Again no response. Finally, he said, “You must be really angry with me; we’ll talk tomorrow.” And he hung up. It is amazing, but I never had trouble with him again because he thought that I was so angry as to be speechless, and he decided to calm down. I never explained to him the reason for my complete silence, but, again, I learned something from the experience: When a situation becomes excessively unpleasant, it sometimes proves that the less said the better.

      A YOUNG GERMAN immigrant named Ewald Pawsat came to the United States and settled first in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, and then in Maysville, Kentucky. He started a bicycle repair shop and called it Wald. Over the years, he built the company into the largest supplier of bicycle parts made in the United States, selling to all the big bicycle manufacturers. Our firm represented Mr. Pawsat, and I was asked to work on his estate plan. After many meetings, his will was finally ready for signature. I met him at his office in Maysville to take care of the signing. But before that, I told him that I wanted to be sure that he had disclosed all matters of significance regarding his holdings, because if he had not I could not be sure that the will was what it should be. Mr. Pawsat by this time was in his seventies and was a man of enormous integrity. He said to me, “Well, there is one thing that I have not told you about.” When I asked what he meant, he explained that he was keeping some cash in the safe in his office that he had not mentioned to me. I assumed he was talking about a few thousand dollars. So I said, “Well, I don’t see that as a problem—how much are we talking about?” He paused and said,