How to Win Friends and Influence People - Mohit K. Arora

How To Win Friends And Influence People 

By 

Dale Carnegie 

-------------- 

Copyright - 1936 / 1964 / 1981 (Revised Edition) 

Library of Congress Catalog Number - 17-19-20-18 

ISBN - O-671-42517-X 

Scan Version : v 1.0 

Format : Text with cover pictures. 

Date Scanned: Unknown 

Posted to (Newsgroup): alt.binaries.e-book 

Scan/Edit Note: I have made minor changes to this work, including a 

contents page, covers etc. I did not scan this work (I only have the 

1964 version) but decided to edit it since I am working on Dale's 

other book "How To Stop Worrying and Start Living" and thought it 

best to make minor improvements. Parts 5 and 6 were scanned and 

added to this version by me, they were not included (for some 

reason) in the version which appeared on alt.binaries.e-book. 

-Salmun 

-------------- 

Contents: 

Eight Things This Book Will Help You Achieve 

Preface to Revised Edition 

How This Book Was Written-And Why 

Nine Suggestions on How to Get the Most Out of This Book 

A Shortcut to Distinction 

Part 1 - Fundamental Techniques In Handling People 

• 1 - "If You Want to Gather Honey, Don't Kick Over the Beehive" 

• 2 - The Big Secret of Dealing with People 

• 3 - "He Who Can Do This Has the Whole World with Him. He Who 

Cannot, Walks a Lonely Way" 

• Eight Suggestions On How To Get The Most Out Of This Book 

Part 2 - Six Ways To Make People Like You 

• 1 - Do This and You'll Be Welcome Anywhere 

• 2 - A Simple Way to Make a Good Impression 

• 3 - If You Don't Do This, You Are Headed for Trouble 

• 4 - An Easy Way to Become a Good Conversationalist 

• 5 - How to Interest People

• 6 - How To Make People Like You Instantly 

• In A Nutshell 

Part 3 - Twelve Ways To Win People To Your Way Of Thinking 

• 1 - You Can't Win an Argument 

• 2 - A Sure Way of Making Enemies—and How to Avoid It 

• 3 - If You're Wrong, Admit It 

• 4 - The High Road to a Man's Reason 

• 5 - The Secret of Socrates 

• 6 - The Safety Valve in Handling Complaints 

• 7 - How to Get Co-operation 

• 8 - A Formula That Will Work Wonders for You 

• 9 - What Everybody Wants 

• 10 - An Appeal That Everybody Likes 

• 11 - The Movies Do It. Radio Does It. Why Don't You Do It? 

• 12 - When Nothing Else Works, Try This 


Part 4 - Nine Ways To Change People Without Giving Offence Or 

Arousing Resentment 

• 1 - If You Must Find Fault, This Is the Way to Begin 

• 2 - How to Criticize—and Not Be Hated for It 

• 3 - Talk About Your Own Mistakes First 

• 4 - No One Likes to Take Orders 

• 5 - Let the Other Man Save His Face 

• 6 - How to Spur Men on to Success 

• 7 - Give the Dog a Good Name 

• 8 - Make the Fault Seem Easy to Correct 

• 9 - Making People Glad to Do What You Want 


Part 5 - Letters That Produced Miraculous Results 

Part 6 - Seven Rules For Making Your Home Life Happier 

• 1 - How to Dig Your Marital Grave in the Quickest Possible Way 

• 2 - Love and Let Live 

• 3 - Do This and You'll Be Looking Up the Time-Tables to Reno 

• 4 - A Quick Way to Make Everybody Happy 

• 5 - They Mean So Much to a Woman 

• 6 - If you Want to be Happy, Don't Neglect This One 

• 7 - Don't Be a "Marriage Illiterate" 


-------------- 

Eight Things This Book Will Help You Achieve

• 1. Get out of a mental rut, think new thoughts, acquire new 

visions, discover new ambitions. 

• 2. Make friends quickly and easily. 

• 3. Increase your popularity. 

• 4. Win people to your way of thinking. 

• 5. Increase your influence, your prestige, your ability to get things 

done. 

• 6. Handle complaints, avoid arguments, keep your human contacts 

smooth and pleasant. 

• 7. Become a better speaker, a more entertaining conversationalist. 

• 8. Arouse enthusiasm among your associates. 

This book has done all these things for more than ten million readers 

in thirty-six languages. 

-------------- 

Preface to Revised Edition 

How to Win Friends and Influence People was first published in 1937 

in an edition of only five thousand copies. Neither Dale Carnegie nor 

the publishers, Simon and Schuster, anticipated more than this 

modest sale. To their amazement, the book became an overnight 

sensation, and edition after edition rolled off the presses to keep up 

with the increasing public demand. Now to Win Friends and 

InfEuence People took its place in publishing history as one of the 

all-time international best-sellers. It touched a nerve and filled a 

human need that was more than a faddish phenomenon of post- 

Depression days, as evidenced by its continued and uninterrupted 

sales into the eighties, almost half a century later. 

Dale Carnegie used to say that it was easier to make a million dollars 

than to put a phrase into the English language. How to Win Friends 

and Influence People became such a phrase, quoted, paraphrased, 

parodied, used in innumerable contexts from political cartoon to 

novels. The book itself was translated into almost every known 

written language. Each generation has discovered it anew and has 

found it relevant. 

Which brings us to the logical question: Why revise a book that has 

proven and continues to prove its vigorous and universal appeal? 

Why tamper with success? 

To answer that, we must realize that Dale Carnegie himself was a 

tireless reviser of his own work during his lifetime. How to Win 

Friends and Influence People was written to be used as a textbook 

for his courses in Effective Speaking and Human Relations and is still 

used in those courses today. Until his death in 1955 he constantly 

improved and revised the course itself to make it applicable to the 

evolving needs of an every-growing public. No one was more

sensitive to the changing currents of present-day life than Dale 

Carnegie. He constantly improved and refined his methods of 

teaching; he updated his book on Effective Speaking several times. 

Had he lived longer, he himself would have revised How to Win 

Friends and Influence People to better reflect the changes that have 

taken place in the world since the thirties. 

Many of the names of prominent people in the book, well known at 

the time of first publication, are no longer recognized by many of 

today's readers. Certain examples and phrases seem as quaint and 

dated in our social climate as those in a Victorian novel. The 

important message and overall impact of the book is weakened to 

that extent. 

Our purpose, therefore, in this revision is to clarify and strengthen 

the book for a modern reader without tampering with the content. 

We have not "changed" How to Win Friends and Influence People 

except to make a few excisions and add a few more contemporary 

examples. The brash, breezy Carnegie style is intact-even the thirties 

slang is still there. Dale Carnegie wrote as he spoke, in an intensively 

exuberant, colloquial, conversational manner. 

So his voice still speaks as forcefully as ever, in the book and in his 

work. Thousands of people all over the world are being trained in 

Carnegie courses in increasing numbers each year. And other 

thousands are reading and studying How to Win Friends and 

lnfluence People and being inspired to use its principles to better 

their lives. To all of them, we offer this revision in the spirit of the 

honing and polishing of a finely made tool. 

Dorothy Carnegie (Mrs. Dale Carnegie) 

-------------------------- 

How This Book Was Written-And Why 

by 

Dale Carnegie 

During the first thirty-five years of the twentieth century, the 

publishing houses of America printed more than a fifth of a million 

different books. Most of them were deadly dull, and many were 

financial failures. "Many," did I say? The president of one of the 

largest publishing houses in the world confessed to me that his 

company, after seventy-five years of publishing experience, still lost 

money on seven out of every eight books it published. 

Why, then, did I have the temerity to write another book? And, after 

I had written it, why should you bother to read it? 

Fair questions, both; and I'll try to answer them.

I have, since 1912, been conducting educational courses for business 

and professional men and women in New York. At first, I conducted 

courses in public speaking only - courses designed to train adults, by 

actual experience, to think on their feet and express their ideas with 

more clarity, more effectiveness and more poise, both in business 

interviews and before groups. 

But gradually, as the seasons passed, I realized that as sorely as 

these adults needed training in effective speaking, they needed still 

more training in the fine art of getting along with people in everyday 

business and social contacts. 

I also gradually realized that I was sorely in need of such training 

myself. As I look back across the years, I am appalled at my own 

frequent lack of finesse and understanding. How I wish a book such 

as this had been placed in my hands twenty years ago! What a 

priceless boon it would have been. 

Dealing with people is probably the biggest problem you face, 

especially if you are in business. Yes, and that is also true if you are 

a housewife, architect or engineer. Research done a few years ago 

under the auspices of the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement 

of Teaching uncovered a most important and significant fact - a fact 

later confirmed by additional studies made at the Carnegie Institute 

of Technology. These investigations revealed that even in such 

technical lines as engineering, about 15 percent of one's financial 

success is due to one's technical knowledge and about 85 percent is 

due to skill in human engineering-to personality and the ability to 

lead people. 

For many years, I conducted courses each season at the Engineers' 

Club of Philadelphia, and also courses for the New York Chapter of 

the American Institute of Electrical Engineers. A total of probably 

more than fifteen hundred engineers have passed through my 

classes. They came to me because they had finally realized, after 

years of observation and experience, that the highest-paid personnel 

in engineering are frequently not those who know the most about 

engineering. One can for example, hire mere technical ability in 

engineering, accountancy, architecture or any other profession at 

nominal salaries. But the person who has technical knowledge plus 

the ability to express ideas, to assume leadership, and to arouse 

enthusiasm among people-that person is headed for higher earning 

power. 

In the heyday of his activity, John D. Rockefeller said that "the ability 

to deal with people is as purchasable a commodity as sugar or 

coffee." "And I will pay more for that ability," said John D., "than for 

any other under the sun."

Wouldn't you suppose that every college in the land would conduct 

courses to develop the highest-priced ability under the sun? But if 

there is just one practical, common-sense course of that kind given 

for adults in even one college in the land, it has escaped my 

attention up to the present writing. 

The University of Chicago and the United Y.M.C.A. Schools conducted 

a survey to determine what adults want to study. 

That survey cost $25,000 and took two years. The last part of the 

survey was made in Meriden, Connecticut. It had been chosen as a 

typical American town. Every adult in Meriden was interviewed and 

requested to answer 156 questions-questions such as "What is your 

business or profession? Your education? How do you spend your 

spare time? What is your income? Your hobbies? Your ambitions? 

Your problems? What subjects are you most interested in studying?" 

And so on. That survey revealed that health is the prime interest of 

adults and that their second interest is people; how to understand 

and get along with people; how to make people like you; and how to 

win others to your way of thinking. 

So the committee conducting this survey resolved to conduct such a 

course for adults in Meriden. They searched diligently for a practical 

textbook on the subject and found-not one. Finally they approached 

one of the world's outstanding authorities on adult education and 

asked him if he knew of any book that met the needs of this group. 

"No," he replied, "I know what those adults want. But the book they 

need has never been written." 

I knew from experience that this statement was true, for I myself 

had been searching for years to discover a practical, working 

handbook on human relations. 

Since no such book existed, I have tried to write one for use in my 

own courses. And here it is. I hope you like it. 

In preparation for this book, I read everything that I could find on 

the subject- everything from newspaper columns, magazine articles, 

records of the family courts, the writings of the old philosophers and 

the new psychologists. In addition, I hired a trained researcher to 

spend one and a half years in various libraries reading everything I 

had missed, plowing through erudite tomes on psychology, poring 

over hundreds of magazine articles, searching through countless 

biographies, trying to ascertain how the great leaders of all ages had 

dealt with people. We read their biographies, We read the life stories 

of all great leaders from Julius Caesar to Thomas Edison. I recall that 

we read over one hundred biographies of Theodore Roosevelt alone. 

We were determined to spare no time, no expense, to discover every 

practical idea that anyone had ever used throughout the ages for 

winning friends and influencing people.

I personally interviewed scores of successful people, some of them 

world-famous-inventors like Marconi and Edison; political leaders like 

Franklin D. Roosevelt and James Farley; business leaders like Owen 

D. Young; movie stars like Clark Gable and Mary Pickford; and 

explorers like Martin Johnson-and tried to discover the techniques 

they used in human relations. 

From all this material, I prepared a short talk. I called it "How to Win 

Friends and Influence People." I say "short." It was short in the 

beginning, but it soon expanded to a lecture that consumed one 

hour and thirty minutes. For years, I gave this talk each season to 

the adults in the Carnegie Institute courses in New York. 

I gave the talk and urged the listeners to go out and test it in their 

business and social contacts, and then come back to class and speak 

about their experiences and the results they had achieved. What an 

interesting assignment! These men and women, hungry for selfimprovement, 

were fascinated by the idea of working in a new kind 

of laboratory - the first and only laboratory of human relationships 

for adults that had ever existed. 

This book wasn't written in the usual sense of the word. It grew as a 

child grows. It grew and developed out of that laboratory, out of the 

experiences of thousands of adults. 

Years ago, we started with a set of rules printed on a card no larger 

than a postcard. The next season we printed a larger card, then a 

leaflet, then a series of booklets, each one expanding in size and 

scope. After fifteen years of experiment and research came this 

book. 

The rules we have set down here are not mere theories or 

guesswork. They work like magic. Incredible as it sounds, I have 

seen the application of these principles literally revolutionize the lives 

of many people. 

To illustrate: A man with 314 employees joined one of these courses. 

For years, he had driven and criticized and condemned his 

employees without stint or discretion. Kindness, words of 

appreciation and encouragement were alien to his lips. After studying 

the principles discussed in this book, this employer sharply altered 

his philosophy of life. His organization is now inspired with a new 

loyalty, a new enthusiasm, a new spirit of team-work. Three hundred 

and fourteen enemies have been turned into 314 friends. As he 

proudly said in a speech before the class: "When I used to walk 

through my establishment, no one greeted me. My employees 

actually looked the other way when they saw me approaching. But 

now they are all my friends and even the janitor calls me by my first 

name."

This employer gained more profit, more leisure and -what is infinitely 

more important-he found far more happiness in his business and in 

his home. 

Countless numbers of salespeople have sharply increased their sales 

by the use of these principles. Many have opened up new accounts - 

accounts that they had formerly solicited in vain. Executives have 

been given increased authority, increased pay. One executive 

reported a large increase in salary because he applied these truths. 

Another, an executive in the Philadelphia Gas Works Company, was 

slated for demotion when he was sixty-five because of his 

belligerence, because of his inability to lead people skillfully. This 

training not only saved him from the demotion but brought him a 

promotion with increased pay. 

On innumerable occasions, spouses attending the banquet given at 

the end of the course have told me that their homes have been 

much happier since their husbands or wives started this training. 

People are frequently astonished at the new results they achieve. It 

all seems like magic. In some cases, in their enthusiasm, they have 

telephoned me at my home on Sundays because they couldn't wait 

forty-eight hours to report their achievements at the regular session 

of the course. 

One man was so stirred by a talk on these principles that he sat far 

into the night discussing them with other members of the class. At 

three o'clock in the morning, the others went home. But he was so 

shaken by a realization of his own mistakes, so inspired by the vista 

of a new and richer world opening before him, that he was unable to 

sleep. He didn't sleep that night or the next day or the next night. 

Who was he? A naive, untrained individual ready to gush over any 

new theory that came along? No, Far from it. He was a sophisticated, 

blasй dealer in art, very much the man about town, who spoke three 

languages fluently and was a graduate of two European universities. 

While writing this chapter, I received a letter from a German of the 

old school, an aristocrat whose forebears had served for generations 

as professional army officers under the Hohenzollerns. His letter, 

written from a transatlantic steamer, telling about the application of 

these principles, rose almost to a religious fervor. 

Another man, an old New Yorker, a Harvard graduate, a wealthy 

man, the owner of a large carpet factory, declared he had learned 

more in fourteen weeks through this system of training about the 

fine art of influencing people than he had learned about the same 

subject during his four years in college. Absurd? Laughable? 

Fantastic? Of course, you are privileged to dismiss this statement

with whatever adjective you wish. I am merely reporting, without 

comment, a declaration made by a conservative and eminently 

successful Harvard graduate in a public address to approximately six 

hundred people at the Yale Club in New York on the evening of 

Thursday, February 23, 1933. 

"Compared to what we ought to be," said the famous Professor 

William James of Harvard, "compared to what we ought to be, we 

are only half awake. We are making use of only a small part of our 

physical and mental resources. Stating the thing broadly, the human 

individual thus lives far within his limits. He possesses powers of 

various sorts which he habitually fails to use," 

Those powers which you "habitually fail to use"! The sole purpose of 

this book is to help you discover, develop and profit by those 

dormant and unused assets, 

"Education," said Dr. John G. Hibben, former president of Princeton 

University, "is the ability to meet life's situations," 

If by the time you have finished reading the first three chapters of 

this book- if you aren't then a little better equipped to meet life's 

situations, then I shall consider this book to be a total failure so far 

as you are concerned. For "the great aim of education," said Herbert 

Spencer, "is not knowledge but action." 

And this is an action book. 

DALE CARNEGIE 1936 

---------------------------------- 

Nine Suggestions on How to Get the Most Out of This Book 

1. If you wish to get the most out of this book, there is one 

indispensable requirement, one essential infinitely more important 

than any rule or technique. Unless you have this one fundamental 

requisite, a thousand rules on how to study will avail little, And if you 

do have this cardinal endowment, then you can achieve wonders 

without reading any suggestions for getting the most out of a book. 

What is this magic requirement? Just this: a deep, driving desire to 

learn, a vigorous determination to increase your ability to deal with 

people. 

How can you develop such an urge? By constantly reminding yourself 

how important these principles are to you. Picture to yourself how 

their mastery will aid you in leading a richer, fuller, happier and more 

fulfilling life. Say to yourself over and over: "My popularity, my

happiness and sense of worth depend to no small extent upon my 

skill in dealing with people." 

2. Read each chapter rapidly at first to get a bird's-eye view of it. 

You will probably be tempted then to rush on to the next one. But 

don't - unless you are reading merely for entertainment. But if you 

are reading because you want to increase your skill in human 

relations, then go back and reread each chapter thoroughly. In the 

long run, this will mean saving time and getting results. 

3. Stop frequently in your reading to think over what you are 

reading. Ask yourself just how and when you can apply each 

suggestion. 

4. Read with a crayon, pencil, pen, magic marker or highlighter in 

your hand. When you come across a suggestion that you feel you 

can use, draw a line beside it. If it is a four-star suggestion, then 

underscore every sentence or highlight it, or mark it with "****." 

Marking and underscoring a book makes it more interesting, and far 

easier to review rapidly. 

5. I knew a woman who had been office manager for a large 

insurance concern for fifteen years. Every month, she read all the 

insurance contracts her company had issued that month. Yes, she 

read many of the same contracts over month after month, year after 

year. Why? Because experience had taught her that that was the 

only way she could keep their provisions clearly in mind. I once spent 

almost two years writing a book on public speaking and yet I found I 

had to keep going back over it from time to time in order to 

remember what I had written in my own book. The rapidity with 

which we forget is astonishing. 

So, if you want to get a real, lasting benefit out of this book, don't 

imagine that skimming through it once will suffice. After reading it 

thoroughly, you ought to spend a few hours reviewing it every 

month, Keep it on your desk in front of you every day. Glance 

through it often. Keep constantly impressing yourself with the rich 

possibilities for improvement that still lie in the offing. Remember 

that the use of these principles can be made habitual only by a 

constant and vigorous campaign of review and application. There is 

no other way. 

6. Bernard Shaw once remarked: "If you teach a man anything, he 

will never learn." Shaw was right. Learning is an active process. We 

learn by doing. So, if you desire to master the principles you are 

studying in this book, do something about them. Apply these rules at 

every opportunity. If you don't you will forget them quickly. Only 

knowledge that is used sticks in your mind.

You will probably find it difficult to apply these suggestions all the 

time. I know because I wrote the book, and yet frequently I found it 

difficult to apply everything I advocated. For example, when you are 

displeased, it is much easier to criticize and condemn than it is to try 

to understand the other person's viewpoint. It is frequently easier to 

find fault than to find praise. It is more natural to talk about what 

vou want than to talk about what the other person wants. And so on, 

So, as you read this book, remember that you are not merely trying 

to acquire information. You are attempting to form new habits. Ah 

yes, you are attempting a new way of life. That will require time and 

persistence and daily application. 

So refer to these pages often. Regard this as a working handbook on 

human relations; and whenever you are confronted with some 

specific problem - such as handling a child, winning your spouse to 

your way of thinking, or satisfying an irritated customer - hesitate 

about doing the natural thing, the impulsive thing. This is usually 

wrong. Instead, turn to these pages and review the paragraphs you 

have underscored. Then try these new ways and watch them achieve 

magic for you. 

7. Offer your spouse, your child or some business associate a dime 

or a dollar every time he or she catches you violating a certain 

principle. Make a lively game out of mastering these rules. 

8. The president of an important Wall Street bank once described, in 

a talk before one of my classes, a highly efficient system he used for 

self-improvement. This man had little formal schooling; yet he had 

become one of the most important financiers in America, and he 

confessed that he owed most of his success to the constant 

application of his homemade system. This is what he does, I'll put it 

in his own words as accurately as I can remember. 

"For years I have kept an engagement book showing all the 

appointments I had during the day. My family never made any plans 

for me on Saturday night, for the family knew that I devoted a part 

of each Saturday evening to the illuminating process of selfexamination 

and review and appraisal. After dinner I went off by 

myself, opened my engagement book, and thought over all the 

interviews, discussions and meetings that had taken place during the 

week. I asked myself: 

'What mistakes did I make that time?' 'What did I do that was rightand 

in what way could I have improved my performance?' 'What 

lessons can I learn from that experience?' 

"I often found that this weekly review made me very unhappy. I was 

frequently astonished at my own blunders. Of course, as the years 

passed, these blunders became less frequent. Sometimes I was 

inclined to pat myself on the back a little after one of these sessions.

This system of self-analysis, self-education, continued year after 

year, did more for me than any other one thing I have ever 

attempted. 

"It helped me improve my ability to make decisions - and it aided me 

enormously in all my contacts with people. I cannot recommend it 

too highly." 

Why not use a similar system to check up on your application of the 

principles discussed in this book? If you do, two things will result. 

First, you will find yourself engaged in an educational process that is 

both intriguing and priceless. 

Second, you will find that your ability to meet and deal with people 

will grow enormously. 

9. You will find at the end of this book several blank pages on which 

you should record your triumphs in the application of these 

principles. Be specific. Give names, dates, results. Keeping such a 

record will inspire you to greater efforts; and how fascinating these 

entries will be when you chance upon them some evening years from 

now! 

In order to get the most out of this book: 

• a. Develop a deep, driving desire to master the principles of human 

relations, 

• b. Read each chapter twice before going on to the next one. 

• c. As you read, stop frequently to ask yourself how you can apply 

each suggestion. 

• d. Underscore each important idea. 

• e. Review this book each month. 

• f. Apply these principles at every opportunity. Use this volume as a 

working handbook to help you solve your daily problems. 

• g. Make a lively game out of your learning by offering some friend 

a dime or a dollar every time he or she catches you violating one of 

these principles. 

• h. Check up each week on the progress you are mak-ing. Ask 

yourself what mistakes you have made, what improvement, what 

lessons you have learned for the future. 

• i. Keep notes in the back of this book showing how and when you 

have applied these principles. 

------------------------------ 

A Shortcut to Distinction 

by Lowell Thomas

This biographical information about Dale Carnegie was written as an 

introduction to the original edition of How to Win Friends and 

Influence People. It is reprinted in this edition to give the readers 

additional background on Dale Carnegie. 

It was a cold January night in 1935, but the weather couldn't keep 

them away. Two thousand five hundred men and women thronged 

into the grand ballroom of the Hotel Pennsylvania in New York. Every 

available seat was filled by half-past seven. At eight o'clock, the 

eager crowd was still pouring in. The spacious balcony was soon 

jammed. Presently even standing space was at a premium, and 

hundreds of people, tired after navigating a day in business, stood 

up for an hour and a half that night to witness - what? 

A fashion show? 

A six-day bicycle race or a personal appearance by Clark Gable? 

No. These people had been lured there by a newspaper ad. Two 

evenings previously, they had seen this full-page announcement in 

the New York Sun staring them in the face: 

Learn to Speak Effectively Prepare for Leadership 

Old stuff? Yes, but believe it or not, in the most sophisticated town 

on earth, during a depression with 20 percent of the population on 

relief, twenty-five hundred people had left their homes and hustled 

to the hotel in response to that ad. 

The people who responded were of the upper economic strata - 

executives, employers and professionals. 

These men and women had come to hear the opening gun of an 

ultramodern, ultrapractical course in "Effective Speaking and 

Influencing Men in Business"- a course given by the Dale Carnegie 

Institute of Effective Speaking and Human Relations. 

Why were they there, these twenty-five hundred business men and 

women? 

Because of a sudden hunger for more education because of the 

depression? 

Apparently not, for this same course had been playing to packed 

houses in New York City every season for the preceding twenty-four 

years. During that time, more than fifteen thousand business and 

professional people had been trained by Dale Carnegie. Even large, 

skeptical, conservative organizations such as the Westinghouse

Electric Company, the McGraw-Hill Publishing Company, the Brooklyn 

Union Gas Company, the Brooklyn Chamber of Commerce, the 

American Institute of Electrical Engineers and the New York 

Telephone Company have had this training conducted in their own 

offices for the benefit of their members and executives. 

The fact that these people, ten or twenty years after leaving grade 

school, high school or college, come and take this training is a 

glaring commentary on the shocking deficiencies of our educational 

system. 

What do adults really want to study? That is an important question; 

and in order to answer it, the University of Chicago, the American 

Association for Adult Education, and the United Y.M.C.A. Schools 

made a survey over a two-year period. 

That survey revealed that the prime interest of adults is health. It 

also revealed that their second interest is in developing skill in 

human relationships - they want to learn the technique of getting 

along with and influencing other people. They don't want to become 

public speakers, and they don't want to listen to a lot of high 

sounding talk about psychology; they want suggestions they can use 

immediately in business, in social contacts and in the home. 

So that was what adults wanted to study, was it? 

"All right," said the people making the survey. "Fine. If that is what 

they want, we'll give it to them." 

Looking around for a textbook, they discovered that no working 

manual had ever been written to help people solve their daily 

problems in human relationships. 

Here was a fine kettle of fish! For hundreds of years, learned 

volumes had been written on Greek and Latin and higher 

mathematics - topics about which the average adult doesn't give two 

hoots. But on the one subject on which he has a thirst for 

knowledge, a veritable passion for guidance and help - nothing! 

This explained the presence of twenty-five hundred eager adults 

crowding into the grand ballroom of the Hotel Pennsylvania in 

response to a newspaper advertisement. Here, apparently, at last 

was the thing for which they had long been seeking. 

Back in high school and college, they had pored over books, 

believing that knowledge alone was the open sesame to financial - 

and professional rewards. 

But a few years in the rough-and-tumble of business and 

professional life had brought sharp dissillusionment. They had seen

some of the most important business successes won by men who 

possessed, in addition to their knowledge, the ability to talk well, to 

win people to their way of thinking, and to "sell" themselves and 

their ideas. 

They soon discovered that if one aspired to wear the captain's cap 

and navigate the ship of business, personality and the ability to talk 

are more important than a knowledge of Latin verbs or a sheepskin 

from Harvard. 

The advertisement in the New York Sun promised that the meeting 

would be highly entertaining. It was. Eighteen people who had taken 

the course were marshaled in front of the loudspeaker - and fifteen 

of them were given precisely seventy-five seconds each to tell his or 

her story. Only seventy-five seconds of talk, then "bang" went the 

gavel, and the chairman shouted, "Time! Next speaker!" 

The affair moved with the speed of a herd of buffalo thundering 

across the plains. Spectators stood for an hour and a half to watch 

the performance. 

The speakers were a cross section of life: several sales 

representatives, a chain store executive, a baker, the president of a 

trade association, two bankers, an insurance agent, an accountant, a 

dentist, an architect, a druggist who had come from Indianapolis to 

New York to take the course, a lawyer who had come from Havana 

in order to prepare himself to give one important three-minute 

speech. 

The first speaker bore the Gaelic name Patrick J. O'Haire. Born in 

Ireland, he attended school for only four years, drifted to America, 

worked as a mechanic, then as a chauffeur. 

Now, however, he was forty, he had a growing family and needed 

more money, so he tried selling trucks. Suffering from an inferiority 

complex that, as he put it, was eating his heart out, he had to walk 

up and down in front of an office half a dozen times before he could 

summon up enough courage to open the door. He was so 

discouraged as a salesman that he was thinking of going back to 

working with his hands in a machine shop, when one day he 

received a letter inviting him to an organization meeting of the Dale 

Carnegie Course in Effective Speaking. 

He didn't want to attend. He feared he would have to associate with 

a lot of college graduates, that he would be out of place. 

His despairing wife insisted that he go, saying, "It may do you some 

good, Pat. God knows you need it." He went down to the place 

where the meeting was to be held and stood on the sidewalk for five

minutes before he could generate enough self-confidence to enter 

the room. 

The first few times he tried to speak in front of the others, he was 

dizzy with fear. But as the weeks drifted by, he lost all fear of 

audiences and soon found that he loved to talk - the bigger the 

crowd, the better. And he also lost his fear of individuals and of his 

superiors. He presented his ideas to them, and soon he had been 

advanced into the sales department. He had become a valued and 

much liked member of his company. This night, in the Hotel 

Pennsylvania, Patrick O'Haire stood in front of twenty-five hundred 

people and told a gay, rollicking story of his achievements. Wave 

after wave of laughter swept over the audience. Few professional 

speakers could have equaled his performance. 

The next speaker, Godfrey Meyer, was a gray-headed banker, the 

father of eleven children. The first time he had attempted to speak in 

class, he was literally struck dumb. His mind refused to function. His 

story is a vivid illustration of how leadership gravitates to the person 

who can talk. 

He worked on Wall Street, and for twenty-five years he had been 

living in Clifton, New Jersey. During that time, he had taken no 

active part in community affairs and knew perhaps five hundred 

people. 

Shortly after he had enrolled in the Carnegie course, he received his 

tax bill and was infuriated by what he considered unjust charges. 

Ordinarily, he would have sat at home and fumed, or he would have 

taken it out in grousing to his neighbors. But instead, he put on his 

hat that night, walked into the town meeting, and blew off steam in 

public. 

As a result of that talk of indignation, the citizens of Clifton, New 

Jersey, urged him to run for the town council. So for weeks he went 

from one meeting to another, denouncing waste and municipal 

extravagance. 

There were ninety-six candidates in the field. When the ballots were 

counted, lo, Godfrey Meyer's name led all the rest. Almost overnight, 

he had become a public figure among the forty thousand people in 

his community. As a result of his talks, he made eighty times more 

friends in six weeks than he had been able to previously in twentyfive 

years. 

And his salary as councilman meant that he got a return of 1,000 

percent a year on his investment in the Carnegie course.

The third speaker, the head of a large national association of food 

manufacturers, told how he had been unable to stand up and 

express his ideas at meetings of a board of directors. 

As a result of learning to think on his feet, two astonishing things 

happened. He was soon made president of his association, and in 

that capacity, he was obliged to address meetings all over the United 

States. Excerpts from his talks were put on the Associated Press 

wires and printed in newspapers and trade magazines throughout 

the country. 

In two years, after learning to speak more effectively, he received 

more free publicity for his company and its products than he had 

been able to get previously with a quarter of a million dollars spent 

in direct advertising. This speaker admitted that he had formerly 

hesitated to telephone some of the more important business 

executives in Manhattan and invite them to lunch with him. But as a 

result of the prestige he had acquired by his talks, these same 

people telephoned him and invited him to lunch and apologized to 

him for encroaching on his time. 

The ability to speak is a shortcut to distinction. It puts a person in 

the limelight, raises one head and shoulders above the crowd. And 

the person who can speak acceptably is usually given credit for an 

ability out of all proportion to what he or she really possesses. 

A movement for adult education has been sweeping over the nation; 

and the most spectacular force in that movement was Dale Carnegie, 

a man who listened to and critiqued more talks by adults than has 

any other man in captivity. According to a cartoon by "Believe-It-or- 

Not" Ripley, he had criticized 150,000 speeches. If that grand total 

doesn't impress you, remember that it meant one talk for almost 

every day that has passed since Columbus discovered America. Or, 

to put it in other words, if all the people who had spoken before him 

had used only three minutes and had appeared before him in 

succession, it would have taken ten months, listening day and night, 

to hear them all. 

Dale Carnegie's own career, filled with sharp contrasts, was a striking 

example of what a person can accomplish when obsessed with an 

original idea and afire with enthusiasm. 

Born on a Missouri farm ten miles from a railway, he never saw a 

streetcar until he was twelve years old; yet by the time he was fortysix, 

he was familiar with the far-flung corners of the earth, 

everywhere from Hong Kong to Hammerfest; and, at one time, he 

approached closer to the North Pole than Admiral Byrd's 

headquarters at Little America was to the South Pole.

This Missouri lad who had once picked strawberries and cut 

cockleburs for five cents an hour became the highly paid trainer of 

the executives of large corporations in the art of self-expression. 

This erstwhile cowboy who had once punched cattle and branded 

calves and ridden fences out in western South Dakota later went to 

London to put on shows under the patronage of the royal family. 

This chap who was a total failure the first half-dozen times he tried 

to speak in public later became my personal manager. Much of my 

success has been due to training under Dale Carnegie. 

Young Carnegie had to struggle for an education, for hard luck was 

always battering away at the old farm in northwest Missouri with a 

flying tackle and a body slam. Year after year, the "102" River rose 

and drowned the corn and swept away the hay. Season after season, 

the fat hogs sickened and died from cholera, the bottom fell out of 

the market for cattle and mules, and the bank threatened to 

foreclose the mortgage. 

Sick with discouragement, the family sold out and bought another 

farm near the State Teachers' College at Warrensburg, Missouri. 

Board and room could be had in town for a dollar a day, but young 

Carnegie couldn't afford it. So he stayed on the farm and commuted 

on horseback three miles to college each day. At home, he milked 

the cows, cut the wood, fed the hogs, and studied his Latin verbs by 

the light of a coal-oil lamp until his eyes blurred and he began to 

nod. 

Even when he got to bed at midnight, he set the alarm for three 

o'clock. His father bred pedigreed Duroc-Jersey hogs - and there was 

danger, during the bitter cold nights, that the young pigs would 

freeze to death; so they were put in a basket, covered with a gunny 

sack, and set behind the kitchen stove. True to their nature, the pigs 

demanded a hot meal at 3 A.M. So when the alarm went off, Dale 

Carnegie crawled out of the blankets, took the basket of pigs out to 

their mother, waited for them to nurse, and then brought them back 

to the warmth of the kitchen stove. 

There were six hundred students in State Teachers' College, and 

Dale Carnegie was one of the isolated half-dozen who couldn't afford 

to board in town. He was ashamed of the poverty that made it 

necessary for him to ride back to the farm and milk the cows every 

night. He was ashamed of his coat, which was too tight, and his 

trousers, which were too short. Rapidly developing an inferiority 

complex, he looked about for some shortcut to distinction. He soon 

saw that there were certain groups in college that enjoyed influence 

and prestige - the football and baseball players and the chaps who 

won the debating and public-speaking contests.

Realizing that he had no flair for athletics, he decided to win one of 

the speaking contests. He spent months preparing his talks. He 

practiced as he sat in the saddle galloping to college and back; he 

practiced his speeches as he milked the cows; and then he mounted 

a bale of hay in the barn and with great gusto and gestures 

harangued the frightened pigeons about the issues of the day. 

But in spite of all his earnestness and preparation, he met with 

defeat after defeat. He was eighteen at the time - sensitive and 

proud. He became so discouraged, so depressed, that he even 

thought of suicide. And then suddenly he began to win, not one 

contest, but every speaking contest in college. 

Other students pleaded with him to train them; and they won also. 

After graduating from college, he started selling correspondence 

courses to the ranchers among the sand hills of western Nebraska 

and eastern Wyoming. In spite of all his boundless energy and 

enthusiasm, he couldn't make the grade. He became so discouraged 

that he went to his hotel room in Alliance, Nebraska, in the middle of 

the day, threw himself across the bed, and wept in despair. He 

longed to go back to college, he longed to retreat from the harsh 

battle of life; but he couldn't. So he resolved to go to Omaha and get 

another job. He didn't have the money for a railroad ticket, so he 

traveled on a freight train, feeding and watering two carloads of wild 

horses in return for his passage, After landing in south Omaha, he 

got a job selling bacon and soap and lard for Armour and Company. 

His territory was up among the Badlands and the cow and Indian 

country of western South Dakota. He covered his territory by freight 

train and stage coach and horseback and slept in pioneer hotels 

where the only partition between the rooms was a sheet of muslin. 

He studied books on salesmanship, rode bucking bronchos, played 

poker with the Indians, and learned how to collect money. And 

when, for example, an inland storekeeper couldn't pay cash for the 

bacon and hams he had ordered, Dale Carnegie would take a dozen 

pairs of shoes off his shelf, sell the shoes to the railroad men, and 

forward the receipts to Armour and Company. 

He would often ride a freight train a hundred miles a day. When the 

train stopped to unload freight, he would dash uptown, see three or 

four merchants, get his orders; and when the whistle blew, he would 

dash down the street again lickety-split and swing onto the train 

while it was moving. 

Within two years, he had taken an unproductive territory that had 

stood in the twenty-fifth place and had boosted it to first place 

among all the twenty-nine car routes leading out of south Omaha. 

Armour and Company offered to promote him, saying: "You have 

achieved what seemed impossible." But he refused the promotion 

and resigned, went to New York, studied at the American Academy

of Dramatic Arts, and toured the country, playing the role of Dr. 

Hartley in Polly of the Circus. 

He would never be a Booth or a Barrymore. He had the good sense 

to recognize that, So back he went to sales work, selling automobiles 

and trucks for the Packard Motor Car Company. 

He knew nothing about machinery and cared nothing about it. 

Dreadfully unhappy, he had to scourge himself to his task each day. 

He longed to have time to study, to write the books he had dreamed 

about writing back in college. So he resigned. He was going to spend 

his days writing stories and novels and support himself by teaching 

in a night school. 

Teaching what? As he looked back and evaluated his college work, 

he saw that his training in public speaking had done more to give 

him confidence, courage, poise and the ability to meet and deal with 

people in business than had all the rest of his college courses put 

together, So he urged the Y.M.C.A. schools in New York to give him 

a chance to conduct courses in public speaking for people in 

business. 

What? Make orators out of business people? Absurd. The Y.M.C.A. 

people knew. They had tried such courses -and they had always 

failed. When they refused to pay him a salary of two dollars a night, 

he agreed to teach on a commission basis and take a percentage of 

the net profits -if there were any profits to take. And inside of three 

years they were paying him thirty dollars a night on that basis - 

instead of two. 

The course grew. Other "Ys" heard of it, then other cities. Dale 

Carnegie soon became a glorified circuit rider covering New York, 

Philadelphia, Baltimore and later London and Paris. All the textbooks 

were too academic and impractical for the business people who 

flocked to his courses. Because of this he wrote his own book 

entitled Public Speaking and Influencing Men in Business. It became 

the official text of all the Y.M.C.A.s as well as of the American 

Bankers' Association and the National Credit Men's Association. 

Dale Carnegie claimed that all people can talk when they get mad. 

He said that if you hit the most ignorant man in town on the jaw and 

knock him down, he would get on his feet and talk with an 

eloquence, heat and emphasis that would have rivaled that world 

famous orator William Jennings Bryan at the height of his career. He 

claimed that almost any person can speak acceptably in public if he 

or she has self-confidence and an idea that is boiling and stewing 

within. 

The way to develop self-confidence, he said, is to do the thing you 

fear to do and get a record of successful experiences behind you. So

he forced each class member to talk at every session of the course. 

The audience is sympathetic. They are all in the same boat; and, by 

constant practice, they develop a courage, confidence and 

enthusiasm that carry over into their private speaking. 

Dale Carnegie would tell you that he made a living all these years, 

not by teaching public speaking - that was incidental. His main job 

was to help people conquer their fears and develop courage. 

He started out at first to conduct merely a course in public speaking, 

but the students who came were business men and women. Many of 

them hadn't seen the inside of a classroom in thirty years. Most of 

them were paying their tuition on the installment plan. They wanted 

results and they wanted them quick - results that they could use the 

next day in business interviews and in speaking before groups. 

So he was forced to be swift and practical. Consequently, he 

developed a system of training that is unique - a striking combination 

of public speaking, salesmanship, human relations and applied 

psychology. 

A slave to no hard-and-fast rules, he developed a course that is as 

real as the measles and twice as much fun. 

When the classes terminated, the graduates formed clubs of their 

own and continued to meet fortnightly for years afterward. One 

group of nineteen in Philadelphia met twice a month during the 

winter season for seventeen years. Class members frequently travel 

fifty or a hundred miles to attend classes. One student used to 

commute each week from Chicago to New York. Professor William 

James of Harvard used to say that the average person develops only 

10 percent of his latent mental ability. Dale Carnegie, by helping 

business men and women to develop their latent possibilities, 

created one of the most significant movements in adult education 

LOWELL THOMAS 1936 

------------------------------ 

Part One - Fundamental Techniques In Handling People 

1 "If You Want To Gather Honey, Don't Kick Over The Beehive" 

On May 7, 1931, the most sensational manhunt New York City had 

ever known had come to its climax. After weeks of search, "Two 

Gun" Crowley - the killer, the gunman who didn't smoke or drink - 

was at bay, trapped in his sweetheart's apartment on West End 

Avenue.

One hundred and fifty policemen and detectives laid siege to his topfloor 

hideway. They chopped holes in the roof; they tried to smoke 

out Crowley, the "cop killer," with teargas. Then they mounted their 

machine guns on surrounding buildings, and for more than an hour 

one of New York's fine residential areas reverberated with the crack 

of pistol fire and the rut-tat-tat of machine guns. Crowley, crouching 

behind an over-stuffed chair, fired incessantly at the police. Ten 

thousand excited people watched the battle. Nothing like it ever 

been seen before on the sidewalks of New York. 

When Crowley was captured, Police Commissioner E. P. Mulrooney 

declared that the two-gun desperado was one of the most dangerous 

criminals ever encountered in the history of New York. "He will kill," 

said the Commissioner, "at the drop of a feather." 

But how did "Two Gun" Crowley regard himself? We know, because 

while the police were firing into his apartment, he wrote a letter 

addressed "To whom it may concern, " And, as he wrote, the blood 

flowing from his wounds left a crimson trail on the paper. In this 

letter Crowley said: "Under my coat is a weary heart, but a kind one 

- one that would do nobody any harm." 

A short time before this, Crowley had been having a necking party 

with his girl friend on a country road out on Long Island. Suddenly a 

policeman walked up to the car and said: "Let me see your license." 

Without saying a word, Crowley drew his gun and cut the policeman 

down with a shower of lead. As the dying officer fell, Crowley leaped 

out of the car, grabbed the officer's revolver, and fired another bullet 

into the prostrate body. And that was the killer who said: "Under my 

coat is a weary heart, but a kind one - one that would do nobody 

any harm.' 

Crowley was sentenced to the electric chair. When he arrived at the 

death house in Sing Sing, did he say, "This is what I get for killing 

people"? No, he said: "This is what I get for defending myself." 

The point of the story is this: "Two Gun" Crowley didn't blame 

himself for anything. 

Is that an unusual attitude among criminals? If you think so, listen to 

this: 

"I have spent the best years of my life giving people the lighter 

pleasures, helping them have a good time, and all I get is abuse, the 

existence of a hunted man." 

That's Al Capone speaking. Yes, America's most notorious Public 

Enemy- the most sinister gang leader who ever shot up Chicago. 

Capone didn't condemn himself. He actually regarded himself as a

public benefactor - an unappreciated and misunderstood public 

benefactor. 

And so did Dutch Schultz before he crumpled up under gangster 

bullets in Newark. Dutch Schultz, one of New York's most notorious 

rats, said in a newspaper interview that he was a public benefactor. 

And he believed it. 

I have had some interesting correspondence with Lewis Lawes, who 

was warden of New York's infamous Sing Sing prison for many years, 

on this subject, and he declared that "few of the criminals in Sing 

Sing regard themselves as bad men. They are just as human as you 

and I. So they rationalize, they explain. They can tell you why they 

had to crack a safe or be quick on the trigger finger. Most of them 

attempt by a form of reasoning, fallacious or logical, to justify their 

antisocial acts even to themselves, consequently stoutly maintaining 

that they should never have been imprisoned at all." 

If Al Capone, "Two Gun" Crowley, Dutch Schultz, and the desperate 

men and women behind prison walls don't blame themselves for 

anything - what about the people with whom you and I come in 

contact? 

John Wanamaker, founder of the stores that bear his name, once 

confessed: "I learned thirty years ago that it is foolish to scold. I 

have enough trouble overcoming my own limitations without fretting 

over the fact that God has not seen fit to distribute evenly the gift of 

intelligence." 

Wanamaker learned this lesson early, but I personally had to blunder 

through this old world for a third of a century before it even began 

to dawn upon me that ninety-nine times out of a hundred, people 

don't criticize themselves for anything, no matter how wrong it may 

be. 

Criticism is futile because it puts a person on the defensive and 

usually makes him strive to justify himself. Criticism is dangerous, 

because it wounds a person's precious pride, hurts his sense of 

importance, and arouses resentment. 

B. F. Skinner, the world-famous psychologist, proved through his 

experiments that an animal rewarded for good behavior will learn 

much more rapidly and retain what it learns far more effectively than 

an animal punished for bad behavior. Later studies have shown that 

the same applies to humans. By criticizing, we do not make lasting 

changes and often incur resentment. 

Hans Selye, another great psychologist, said, "As much as we thirst 

for approval, we dread condemnation,"

The resentment that criticism engenders can demoralize employees, 

family members and friends, and still not correct the situation that 

has been condemned. 

George B. Johnston of Enid, Oklahoma, is the safety coordinator for 

an engineering company, One of his re-sponsibilities is to see that 

employees wear their hard hats whenever they are on the job in the 

field. He reported that whenever he came across workers who were 

not wearing hard hats, he would tell them with a lot of authority of 

the regulation and that they must comply. As a result he would get 

sullen acceptance, and often after he left, the workers would remove 

the hats. 

He decided to try a different approach. The next time he found some 

of the workers not wearing their hard hat, he asked if the hats were 

uncomfortable or did not fit properly. Then he reminded the men in a 

pleasant tone of voice that the hat was designed to protect them 

from injury and suggested that it always be worn on the job. The 

result was increased compliance with the regulation with no 

resentment or emotional upset. 

You will find examples of the futility of criticism bristling on a 

thousand pages of history, Take, for example, the famous quarrel 

between Theodore Roosevelt and President Taft - a quarrel that split 

the Republican party, put Woodrow Wilson in the White House, and 

wrote bold, luminous lines across the First World War and altered the 

flow of history. Let's review the facts quickly. When Theodore 

Roosevelt stepped out of the White House in 1908, he supported 

Taft, who was elected President. Then Theodore Roosevelt went off 

to Africa to shoot lions. When he returned, he exploded. He 

denounced Taft for his conservatism, tried to secure the nomination 

for a third term himself, formed the Bull Moose party, and all but 

demolished the G.O.P. In the election that followed, William Howard 

Taft and the Republican party carried only two states - Vermont and 

Utah. The most disastrous defeat the party had ever known. 

Theodore Roosevelt blamed Taft, but did President Taft blame 

himself? Of course not, With tears in his eyes, Taft said: "I don't see 

how I could have done any differently from what I have." 

Who was to blame? Roosevelt or Taft? Frankly, I don't know, and I 

don't care. The point I am trying to make is that all of Theodore 

Roosevelt's criticism didn't persuade Taft that he was wrong. It 

merely made Taft strive to justify himself and to reiterate with tears 

in his eyes: "I don't see how I could have done any differently from 

what I have." 

Or, take the Teapot Dome oil scandal. It kept the newspapers ringing 

with indignation in the early 1920s. It rocked the nation! Within the 

memory of living men, nothing like it had ever happened before in

American public life. Here are the bare facts of the scandal: Albert B. 

Fall, secretary of the interior in Harding's cabinet, was entrusted with 

the leasing of government oil reserves at Elk Hill and Teapot Dome - 

oil reserves that had been set aside for the future use of the Navy. 

Did secretary Fall permit competitive bidding? No sir. He handed the 

fat, juicy contract outright to his friend Edward L. Doheny. And what 

did Doheny do? He gave Secretary Fall what he was pleased to call a 

"loan" of one hundred thousand dollars. Then, in a high-handed 

manner, Secretary Fall ordered United States Marines into the district 

to drive off competitors whose adjacent wells were sapping oil out of 

the Elk Hill reserves. These competitors, driven off their ground at 

the ends of guns and bayonets, rushed into court - and blew the lid 

off the Teapot Dome scandal. A stench arose so vile that it ruined 

the Harding Administration, nauseated an entire nation, threatened 

to wreck the Republican party, and put Albert B. Fall behind prison 

bars. 

Fall was condemned viciously - condemned as few men in public life 

have ever been. Did he repent? Never! Years later Herbert Hoover 

intimated in a public speech that President Harding's death had been 

due to mental anxiety and worry because a friend had betrayed him. 

When Mrs. Fall heard that, she sprang from her chair, she wept, she 

shook her fists at fate and screamed: "What! Harding betrayed by 

Fall? No! My husband never betrayed anyone. This whole house full 

of gold would not tempt my husband to do wrong. He is the one who 

has been betrayed and led to the slaughter and crucified." 

There you are; human nature in action, wrongdoers, blaming 

everybody but themselves. We are all like that. So when you and I 

are tempted to criticize someone tomorrow, let's remember Al 

Capone, "Two Gun" Crowley and Albert Fall. Let's realize that 

criticisms are like homing pigeons. They always return home. Let's 

realize that the person we are going to correct and condemn will 

probably justify himself or herself, and condemn us in return; or, like 

the gentle Taft, will say: "I don't see how I could have done any 

differently from what I have." 

On the morning of April 15, 1865, Abraham Lincoln lay dying in a hall 

bedroom of a cheap lodging house directly across the street from 

Ford's Theater, where John Wilkes Booth had shot him. Lincoln's 

long body lay stretched diagonally across a sagging bed that was too 

short for him. A cheap reproduction of Rosa Bonheur's famous 

painting The Horse Fair hung above the bed, and a dismal gas jet 

flickered yellow light. 

As Lincoln lay dying, Secretary of War Stanton said, "There lies the 

most perfect ruler of men that the world has ever seen." 

What was the secret of Lincoln's success in dealing with people? I 

studied the life of Abraham Lincoln for ten years and devoted all of

three years to writing and rewriting a book entitled Lincoln the 

Unknown. I believe I have made as detailed and exhaustive a study 

of Lincoln's personality and home life as it is possible for any being to 

make. I made a special study of Lincoln's method of dealing with 

people. Did he indulge in criticism? Oh, yes. As a young man in the 

Pigeon Creek Valley of Indiana, he not only criticized but he wrote 

letters and poems ridiculing people and dropped these letters on the 

country roads where they were sure to be found. One of these 

letters aroused resentments that burned for a lifetime. 

Even after Lincoln had become a practicing lawyer in Springfield, 

Illinois, he attacked his opponents openly in letters published in the 

newspapers. But he did this just once too often. 

In the autumn of 1842 he ridiculed a vain, pugnacious politician by 

the name of James Shields. Lincoln lamned him through an 

anonymous letter published in Springfield Journal. The town roared 

with laughter. Shields, sensitive and proud, boiled with indignation. 

He found out who wrote the letter, leaped on his horse, started after 

Lincoln, and challenged him to fight a duel. Lincoln didn't want to 

fight. He was opposed to dueling, but he couldn't get out of it and 

save his honor. He was given the choice of weapons. Since he had 

very long arms, he chose cavalry broadswords and took lessons in 

sword fighting from a West Point graduate; and, on the appointed 

day, he and Shields met on a sandbar in the Mississippi River, 

prepared to fight to the death; but, at the last minute, their seconds 

interrupted and stopped the duel. 

That was the most lurid personal incident in Lincoln's life. It taught 

him an invaluable lesson in the art of dealing with people. Never 

again did he write an insulting letter. Never again did he ridicule 

anyone. And from that time on, he almost never criticized anybody 

for anything. 

Time after time, during the Civil War, Lincoln put a new general at 

the head of the Army of the Potomac, and each one in turn - 

McClellan, Pope, Burnside, Hooker, Meade - blundered tragically and 

drove Lincoln to pacing the floor in despair. Half the nation savagely 

condemned these incompetent generals, but Lincoln, "with malice 

toward none, with charity for all," held his peace. One of his favorite 

quotations was "Judge not, that ye be not judged." 

And when Mrs. Lincoln and others spoke harshly of the southern 

people, Lincoln replied: "Don't criticize them; they are just what we 

would be under similar circumstances." 

Yet if any man ever had occasion to criticize, surely it was Lincoln. 

Let's take just one illustration:

The Battle of Gettysburg was fought during the first three days of 

July 1863. During the night of July 4, Lee began to retreat southward 

while storm clouds deluged the country with rain. When Lee reached 

the Potomac with his defeated army, he found a swollen, impassable 

river in front of him, and a victorious Union Army behind him. Lee 

was in a trap. He couldn't escape. Lincoln saw that. Here was a 

golden, heaven-sent opportunity-the opportunity to capture Lee's 

army and end the war immediately. So, with a surge of high hope, 

Lincoln ordered Meade not to call a council of war but to attack Lee 

immediately. Lincoln telegraphed his orders and then sent a special 

messenger to Meade demanding immediate action. 

And what did General Meade do? He did the very opposite of what 

he was told to do. He called a council of war in direct violation of 

Lincoln's orders. He hesitated. He procrastinated. He telegraphed all 

manner of excuses. He refused point-blank to attack Lee. Finally the 

waters receded and Lee escaped over the Potomac with his forces. 

Lincoln was furious, " What does this mean?" Lincoln cried to his son 

Robert. "Great God! What does this mean? We had them within our 

grasp, and had only to stretch forth our hands and they were ours; 

yet nothing that I could say or do could make the army move. Under 

the circumstances, almost any general could have defeated Lee. If I 

had gone up there, I could have whipped him myself." 

In bitter disappointment, Lincoln sat down and wrote Meade this 

letter. And remember, at this period of his life Lincoln was extremely 

conservative and restrained in his phraseology. So this letter coming 

from Lincoln in 1863 was tantamount to the severest rebuke. 

My dear General, 

I do not believe you appreciate the magnitude of the misfortune 

involved in Lee's escape. He was within our easy grasp, and to have 

closed upon him would, in connection With our other late successes, 

have ended the war. As it is, the war will be prolonged indefinitely. If 

you could not safely attack Lee last Monday, how can you possibly 

do so south of the river, when you can take with you very few-no 

more than two-thirds of the force you then had in hand? It would be 

unreasonable to expect and I do not expect that you can now effect 

much. Your golden opportunity is gone, and I am distressed 

immeasurably because of it. 

What do you suppose Meade did when he read the letter? 

Meade never saw that letter. Lincoln never mailed it. It was found 

among his papers after his death. 

My guess is - and this is only a guess - that after writing that letter, 

Lincoln looked out of the window and said to himself, "Just a minute.

Maybe I ought not to be so hasty. It is easy enough for me to sit 

here in the quiet of the White House and order Meade to attack; but 

if I had been up at Gettysburg, and if I had seen as much blood as 

Meade has seen during the last week, and if my ears had been 

pierced with the screams and shrieks of the wounded and dying, 

maybe I wouldn't be so anxious to attack either. If I had Meade's 

timid temperament, perhaps I would have done just what he had 

done. Anyhow, it is water under the bridge now. If I send this letter, 

it will relieve my feelings, but it will make Meade try to justify 

himself. It will make him condemn me. It will arouse hard feelings, 

impair all his further usefulness as a commander, and perhaps force 

him to resign from the army." 

So, as I have already said, Lincoln put the letter aside, for he had 

learned by bitter experience that sharp criticisms and rebukes almost 

invariably end in futility. 

Theodore Roosevelt said that when he, as President, was confronted 

with a perplexing problem, he used to lean back and look up at a 

large painting of Lincoln which hung above his desk in the White 

House and ask himself, "What would Lincoln do if he were in my 

shoes? How would he solve this problem?" 

The next time we are tempted to admonish somebody, /let's pull a 

five-dollar bill out of our pocket, look at Lincoln's picture on the bill, 

and ask. "How would Lincoln handle this problem if he had it?" 

Mark Twain lost his temper occasionally and wrote letters that turned 

the Paper brown. For example, he once wrote to a man who had 

aroused his ire: "The thing for you is a burial permit. You have only 

to speak and I will see that you get it." On another occasion he 

wrote to an editor about a proofreader's attempts to "improve my 

spelling and punctuation." He ordered: "Set the matter according to 

my copy hereafter and see that the proofreader retains his 

suggestions in the mush of his decayed brain." 

The writing of these stinging letters made Mark Twain feel better. 

They allowed him to blow off steam, and the letters didn't do any 

real harm, because Mark's wife secretly lifted them out of the mail. 

They were never sent. 

Do you know someone you would like to change and regulate and 

improve? Good! That is fine. I am all in favor of it, But why not begin 

on yourself? From a purely selfish standpoint, that is a lot more 

profitable than trying to improve others - yes, and a lot less 

dangerous. "Don't complain about the snow on your neighbor's roof," 

said Confucius, "when your own doorstep is unclean." 

When I was still young and trying hard to impress people, I wrote a 

foolish letter to Richard Harding Davis, an author who once loomed

large on the literary horizon of America. I was preparing a magazine 

article about authors, and I asked Davis to tell me about his method 

of work. A few weeks earlier, I had received a letter from someone 

with this notation at the bottom: "Dictated but not read." I was quite 

impressed. I felt that the writer must be very big and busy and 

important. I wasn't the slightest bit busy, but I was eager to make 

an impression on Richard Harding Davis, so I ended my short note 

with the words: "Dictated but not read." 

He never troubled to answer the letter. He simply returned it to me 

with this scribbled across the bottom: "Your bad manners are 

exceeded only by your bad manners." True, I had blundered, and 

perhaps I deserved this rebuke. But, being human, I resented it. I 

resented it so sharply that when I read of the death of Richard 

Harding Davis ten years later, the one thought that still persisted in 

my mind - I am ashamed to admit - was the hurt he had given me. 

If you and I want to stir up a resentment tomorrow that may rankle 

across the decades and endure until death, just let us indulge in a 

little stinging criticism-no matter how certain we are that it is 

justified. 

When dealing with people, let us remember we are not dealing with 

creatures of logic. We are dealing with creatures of emotion, 

creatures bristling with prejudices and motivated by pride and vanity. 

Bitter criticism caused the sensitive Thomas Hardy, one of the finest 

novelists ever to enrich English literature, to give up forever the 

writing of fiction. Criticism drove Thomas Chatterton, the English 

poet, to suicide. 

Benjamin Franklin, tactless in his youth, became so diplomatic, so 

adroit at handling people, that he was made American Ambassador 

to France. The secret of his success? "I will speak ill of no man," he 

said, " . . and speak all the good I know of everybody." 

Any fool can criticize, condemn and complain - and most fools do. 

But it takes character and self-control to be under-standing and 

forgiving. 

"A great man shows his greatness," said Carlyle, "by the way he 

treats little men." 

Bob Hoover, a famous test pilot and frequent per-former at air 

shows, was returning to his home in Los Angeles from an air show in 

San Diego. As described in the magazine Flight Operations, at three 

hundred feet in the air, both engines suddenly stopped. By deft 

maneuvering he managed to land the plane, but it was badly 

damaged although nobody was hurt.

Hoover's first act after the emergency landing was to inspect the 

airplane's fuel. Just as he suspected, the World War II propeller 

plane he had been flying had been fueled with jet fuel rather than 

gasoline. 

Upon returning to the airport, he asked to see the mechanic who had 

serviced his airplane. The young man was sick with the agony of his 

mistake. Tears streamed down his face as Hoover approached. He 

had just caused the loss of a very expensive plane and could have 

caused the loss of three lives as well. 

You can imagine Hoover's anger. One could anticipate the tonguelashing 

that this proud and precise pilot would unleash for that 

carelessness. But Hoover didn't scold the mechanic; he didn't even 

criticize him. Instead, he put his big arm around the man's shoulder 

and said, "To show you I'm sure that you'll never do this again, I 

want you to service my F-51 tomorrow." 

Often parents are tempted to criticize their children. You would 

expect me to say "don't." But I will not, I am merely going to say, 

"Before you criticize them, read one of the classics of American 

journalism, 'Father Forgets.' " It originally appeared as an editorial in 

the People's Home Journnl. We are reprinting it here with the 

author's permission, as condensed in the Reader's Digest: 

"Father Forgets" is one of those little pieces which-dashed of in a 

moment of sincere feeling - strikes an echoing chord in so many 

readers as to become a perenial reprint favorite. Since its first 

appearance, "Father Forgets" has been reproduced, writes the 

author, W, Livingston Larned, "in hundreds of magazines and house 

organs, and in newspapers the country over. It has been reprinted 

almost as extensively in many foreign languages. I have given 

personal permission to thousands who wished to read it from school, 

church, and lecture platforms. It has been 'on the air' on countless 

occasions and programs. Oddly enough, college periodicals have 

used it, and high-school magazines. Sometimes a little piece seems 

mysteriously to 'click.' This one certainly did." 

FATHER FORGETS W. Livingston Larned 

Listen, son: I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw 

crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your 

damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few 

minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave 

of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside. 

There are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I 

scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your 

face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning

your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things 

on the floor. 

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down 

your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too 

thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for 

my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, "Goodbye, 

Daddy!" and I frowned, and said in reply, "Hold your shoulders 

back!" 

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the 

road I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were 

holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before your boyfriends by 

marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive - 

and if you had to 

buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a 

father! 

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you 

came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I 

glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you 

hesitated at the door. "What is it you want?" I snapped. 

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and 

threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small 

arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your 

heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were 

gone, pattering up the stairs. 

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my 

hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit 

been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding - this 

was my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not love 

you; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you 

by the yardstick of my own years. 

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your 

character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself over 

the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush 

in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have 

come to your bed-side in the darkness, and I have knelt there, 

ashamed! 

It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these 

things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow 

I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you 

suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when 

impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: "He is 

nothing but a boy - a little boy!"

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, 

son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. 

Yesterday you were in your mother's arms, your head on her 

shoulder. I have asked too much, too much. 

Instead of condemning people, let's try to understand them. Let's try 

to figure out why they do what they do. That's a lot more profitable 

and intriguing than criticism; and it breeds sympathy, tolerance and 

kindness. "To know all is to forgive all." 

As Dr. Johnson said: "God himself, sir, does not propose to judge 

man until the end of his days." 

Why should you and I? 

• Principle 1 - Don't criticize, condemn or complain. 

~~~~~~~ 

2 - The Big Secret Of Dealing With People 

There is only one way under high heaven to get anybody to do 

anything. Did you ever stop to think of that? Yes, just one way. And 

that is by making the other person want to do it. 

Remember, there is no other way. 

Of course, you can make someone want to give you his watch by 

sticking a revolver in his ribs. YOU can make your employees give 

you cooperation - until your back is turned - by threatening to fire 

them. You can make a child do what you want it to do by a whip or a 

threat. But these crude methods have sharply undesirable 

repercussions. 

The only way I can get you to do anything is by giving you what you 

want. 

What do you want? 

Sigmund Freud said that everything you and I do springs from two 

motives: the sex urge and the desire to be great. 

John Dewey, one of America's most profound philosophers, phrased 

it a bit differently. Dr. Dewey said that the deepest urge in human 

nature is "the desire to be important." Remember that phrase: "the 

desire to be important." It is significant. You are going to hear a lot 

about it in this book.

What do you want? Not many things, but the few that you do wish, 

you crave with an insistence that will not be denied. Some of the 

things most people want include: 

1. Health and the preservation of life. 2. Food. 3. Sleep. 4. Money 

and the things money will buy. 5. Life in the hereafter. 6. Sexual 

gratification. 7. The well-being of our children. 8. A feeling of 

importance. 

Almost all these wants are usually gratified-all except one. But there 

is one longing - almost as deep, almost as imperious, as the desire 

for food or sleep - which is seldom gratified. It is what Freud calls 

"the desire to be great." It is what Dewey calls the "desire to be 

important." 

Lincoln once began a letter saying: "Everybody likes a compliment." 

William James said: "The deepest principle in human nature is the 

craving to be appreciated." He didn't speak, mind you, of the "wish" 

or the "desire" or the "longing" to be appreciated. He said the 

"craving" to be appreciated. 

Here is a gnawing and unfaltering human hunger, and the rare 

individual who honestly satisfies this heart hunger will hold people in 

the palm of his or her hand and "even the undertaker will be sorry 

when he dies." 

The desire for a feeling of importance is one of the chief 

distinguishing differences between mankind and the animals. To 

illustrate: When I was a farm boy out in Missouri, my father bred fine 

Duroc-Jersey hogs and . pedigreed white - faced cattle. We used to 

exhibit our hogs and white-faced cattle at the country fairs and livestock 

shows throughout the Middle West. We won first prizes by the 

score. My father pinned his blue ribbons on a sheet of white muslin, 

and when friends or visitors came to the house, he would get out the 

long sheet of muslin. He would hold one end and I would hold the 

other while he exhibited the blue ribbons. 

The hogs didn't care about the ribbons they had won. But Father did. 

These prizes gave him a feeling of importance. 

If our ancestors hadn't had this flaming urge for a feeling of 

importance, civilization would have been impossible. Without it, we 

should have been just about like animals. 

It was this desire for a feeling of importance that led an uneducated, 

poverty-stricken grocery clerk to study some law books he found in 

the bottom of a barrel of household plunder that he had bought for 

fifty cents. You have probably heard of this grocery clerk. His name 

was Lincoln.

It was this desire for a feeling of importance that inspired Dickens to 

write his immortal novels. This desire inspired Sir Christoper Wren to 

design his symphonies in stone. This desire made Rockefeller amass 

millions that he never spent! And this same desire made the richest 

family in your town build a house far too large for its requirements. 

This desire makes you want to wear the latest styles, drive the latest 

cars, and talk about your brilliant children. 

It is this desire that lures many boys and girls into joining gangs and 

engaging in criminal activities. The average young criminal, 

according to E. P. Mulrooney, onetime police commissioner of New 

York, is filled with ego, and his first request after arrest is for those 

lurid newspapers that make him out a hero. The disagreeable 

prospect of serving time seems remote so long as he can gloat over 

his likeness sharing space with pictures of sports figures, movie and 

TV stars and politicians. 

If you tell me how you get your feeling of importance, I'll tell you 

what you are. That determines your character. That is the most 

significant thing about you. For example, John D. Rockefeller got his 

feeling of importance by giving money to erect a modern hospital in 

Peking, China, to care for millions of poor people whom he had never 

seen and never would see. Dillinger, on the other hand, got his 

feeling of importance by being a bandit, a bank robber and killer. 

When the FBI agents were hunting him, he dashed into a farmhouse 

up in Minnesota and said, "I'm Dillinger!" He was proud of the fact 

that he was Public Enemy Number One. "I'm not going to hurt you, 

but I'm Dillinger!" he said. 

Yes, the one significant difference between Dillinger and Rockefeller 

is how they got their feeling of importance. 

History sparkles with amusing examples of famous people struggling 

for a feeling of importance. Even George Washington wanted to be 

called "His Mightiness, the President of the United States"; and 

Columbus pleaded for the title "Admiral of the Ocean and Viceroy of 

India." Catherine the Great refused to open letters that were not 

addressed to "Her Imperial Majesty"; and Mrs. Lincoln, in the White 

House, turned upon Mrs. Grant like a tigress and shouted, "How dare 

you be seated in my presence until I invite you!" 

Our millionaires helped finance Admiral Byrd's expedition to the 

Antarctic in 1928 with the understanding that ranges of icy 

mountains would be named after them; and Victor Hugo aspired to 

have nothing less than the city of Paris renamed in his honor. Even 

Shakespeare, mightiest of the mighty, tried to add luster to his name 

by procuring a coat of arms for his family.

People sometimes became invalids in order to win sympathy and 

attention, and get a feeling of importance. For example, take Mrs. 

McKinley. She got a feeling of importance by forcing her husband, 

the President of the United States, to neglect important affairs of 

state while he reclined on the bed beside her for hours at a time, his 

arm about her, soothing her to sleep. She fed her gnawing desire for 

attention by insisting that he remain with her while she was having 

her teeth fixed, and once created a stormy scene when he had to 

leave her alone with the dentist while he kept an appointment with 

John Hay, his secretary of state. 

The writer Mary Roberts Rinehart once told me of a bright, vigorous 

young woman who became an invalid in order to get a feeling of 

importance. "One day," said Mrs. Rinehart, "this woman had been 

obliged to face something, her age perhaps. The lonely years were 

stretching ahead and there was little left for her to anticipate. 

"She took to her bed; and for ten years her old mother traveled to 

the third floor and back, carrying trays, nursing her. Then one day 

the old mother, weary with service, lay down and died. For some 

weeks, the invalid languished; then she got up, put on her clothing, 

and resumed living again." 

Some authorities declare that people may actually go insane in order 

to find, in the dreamland of insanity, the feeling of importance that 

has been denied them in the harsh world of reality. There are more 

patients suffering from mental diseases in the United States than 

from all other diseases combined. 

What is the cause of insanity? 

Nobody can answer such a sweeping question, but we know that 

certain diseases, such as syphilis, break down and destroy the brain 

cells and result in insanity. In fact, about one-half of all mental 

diseases can be attributed to such physical causes as brain lesions, 

alcohol, toxins and injuries. But the other half - and this is the 

appalling part of the story - the other half of the people who go 

insane apparently have nothing organically wrong with their brain 

cells. In post-mortem examinations, when their brain tissues are 

studied under the highest-powered microscopes, these tissues are 

found to be apparently just as healthy as yours and mine. 

Why do these people go insane? 

I put that question to the head physician of one of our most 

important psychiatric hospitals. This doctor, who has received the 

highest honors and the most coveted awards for his knowledge of 

this subject, told me frankly that he didn't know why people went 

insane. Nobody knows for sure But he did say that many people who

go insane find in insanity a feeling of importance that they were 

unable to achieve in the world of reality. Then he told me this story: 

"I have a patient right now whose marriage proved to be a tragedy. 

She wanted love, sexual gratification, children and social prestige, 

but life blasted all her hopes. Her husband didn't love her. He 

refused even to eat with her and forced her to serve his meals in his 

room upstairs. She had no children, no social standing. She went 

insane; and, in her imagination, she divorced her husband and 

resumed her maiden name. She now believes she has married into 

English aristocracy, and she insists on being called Lady Smith. 

"And as for children, she imagines now that she has had a new child 

every night. Each time I call on her she says: 'Doctor, I had a baby 

last night.' " 

Life once wrecked all her dream ships on the sharp rocks of reality; 

but in the sunny, fantasy isles of insanity, all her barkentines race 

into port with canvas billowing and winds singing through the masts. 

" Tragic? Oh, I don't know. Her physician said to me: If I could 

stretch out my hand and restore her sanity, I wouldn't do it. She's 

much happier as she is." 

If some people are so hungry for a feeling of importance that they 

actually go insane to get it, imagine what miracle you and I can 

achieve by giving people honest appreciation this side of insanity. 

One of the first people in American business to be paid a salary of 

over a million dollars a year (when there was no income tax and a 

person earning fifty dollars a week was considered well off) was 

Charles Schwab, He had been picked by Andrew Carnegie to become 

the first president of the newly formed United States Steel Company 

in 1921, when Schwab was only thirty-eight years old. (Schwab later 

left U.S. Steel to take over the then-troubled Bethlehem Steel 

Company, and he rebuilt it into one of the most profitable companies 

in America.) 

Why did Andrew Carnegie pay a million dollars a year, or more than 

three thousand dollars a day, to Charles Schwab? Why? Because 

Schwab was a genius? No. Because he knew more about the 

manufacture of steel than other people? Nonsense. Charles Schwab 

told me himself that he had many men working for him who knew 

more about the manufacture of steel than he did. 

Schwab says that he was paid this salary largely because of his 

ability to deal with people. I asked him how he did it. Here is his 

secret set down in his own words - words that ought to be cast in 

eternal bronze and hung in every home and school, every shop and 

office in the land - words that children ought to memorize instead of

wasting their time memorizing the conjugation of Latin verbs or the 

amount of the annual rainfall in Brazil - words that will all but 

transform your life and mine if we will only live them: 

"I consider my ability to arouse enthusiasm among my people," said 

Schwab, "the greatest asset I possess, and the way to develop the 

best that is in a person is by appreciation and encouragement. 

"There is nothing else that so kills the ambitions of a person as 

criticisms from superiors. I never criticize any-one. I believe in giving 

a person incentive to work. So I am anxious to praise but loath to 

find fault. If I like anything, I am hearty in my approbation and lavish 

in my praise. " 

That is what Schwab did. But what do average people do? The exact 

opposite. If they don't like a thing, they bawl out their subordinates; 

if they do like it, they say nothing. As the old couplet says: "Once I 

did bad and that I heard ever/Twice I did good, but that I heard 

never." 

"In my wide association in life, meeting with many and great people 

in various parts of the world," Schwab declared, "I have yet to find 

the person, however great or exalted his station, who did not do 

better work and put forth greater effort under a spirit of approval 

than he would ever do under a spirit of criticism." 

That he said, frankly, was one of the outstanding reasons for the 

phenomenal success of Andrew Carnegie. Carnegie praised his 

associates publicly as well as pr-vately. 

Carnegie wanted to praise his assistants even on his tombstone. He 

wrote an epitaph for himself which read: "Here lies one who knew 

how to get around him men who were cleverer than himself:" 

Sincere appreciation was one of the secrets of the first John D. 

Rockefeller's success in handling men. For example, when one of his 

partners, Edward T. Bedford, lost a million dollars for the firm by a 

bad buy in South America, John D. might have criticized; but he 

knew Bedford had done his best - and the incident was closed. So 

Rockefeller found something to praise; he congratulated Bedford 

because he had been able to save 60 percent of the money he had 

invested. "That's splendid," said Rockefeller. "We don't always do as 

well as that upstairs." 

I have among my clippings a story that I know never happened, but 

it illustrates a truth, so I'll repeat it: 

According to this silly story, a farm woman, at the end of a heavy 

day's work, set before her menfolks a heaping pile of hay. And when 

they indignantly demanded whether she had gone crazy, she replied:

"Why, how did I know you'd notice? I've been cooking for you men 

for the last twenty years and in all that time I ain't heard no word to 

let me know you wasn't just eating hay." 

When a study was made a few years ago on runaway wives, what do 

you think was discovered to be the main reason wives ran away? It 

was "lack of appreciation." And I'd bet that a similar study made of 

runaway husbands would come out the same way. We often take our 

spouses so much for granted that we never let them know we 

appreciate them. 

A member of one of our classes told of a request made by his wife. 

She and a group of other women in her church were involved in a 

self-improvement program. She asked her husband to help her by 

listing six things he believed she could do to help her become a 

better wife. He reported to the class: "I was surprised by such a 

request. Frankly, it would have been easy for me to list six things I 

would like to change about her - my heavens, she could have listed a 

thousand things she would like to change about me - but I didn't. I 

said to her, 'Let me think about it and give you an answer in the 

morning.' 

"The next morning I got up very early and called the florist and had 

them send six red roses to my wife with a note saying: 'I can't think 

of six things I would like to change about you. I love you the way 

you are.' 

"When I arrived at home that evening, who do you think greeted me 

at the door: That's right. My wife! She was almost in tears. Needless 

to say, I was extremely glad I had not criticized her as she had 

requested. 

"The following Sunday at church, after she had reported the results 

of her assignment, several women with whom she had been studying 

came up to me and said, 'That was the most considerate thing I 

have ever heard.' It was then I realized the power of appreciation." 

Florenz Ziegfeld, the most spectacular producer who ever dazzled 

Broadway, gained his reputation by his subtle ability to "glorify the 

American girl." Time after time, he took drab little creatures that no 

one ever looked at twice and transformed them on the stage into 

glamorous visions of mystery and seduction. Knowing the value of 

appreciation and confidence, he made women feel beautiful by the 

sheer power of his gallantry and consideration. He was practical: he 

raised the salary of chorus girls from thirty dollars a week to as high 

as one hundred and seventy-five. And he was also chivalrous; on 

opening night at the Follies, he sent telegrams to the stars in the 

cast, and he deluged every chorus girl in the show with American 

Beauty roses.

I once succumbed to the fad of fasting and went for six days and 

nights without eating. It wasn't difficult. I was less hungry at the end 

of the sixth day than I was at the end of the second. Yet I know, as 

you know, people who would think they had committed a crime if 

they let their families or employees go for six days without food; but 

they will let them go for six days, and six weeks, and sometimes 

sixty years without giving them the hearty appreciation that they 

crave almost as much as they crave food. 

When Alfred Lunt, one of the great actors of his time, played the 

leading role in Reunion in Vienna, he said, "There is nothing I need 

so much as nourishment for my self-esteem." 

We nourish the bodies of our children and friends and employees, 

but how seldom do we nourish their selfesteem? We provide them 

with roast beef and potatoes to build energy, but we neglect to give 

them kind words of appreciation that would sing in their memories 

for years like the music of the morning stars. 

Paul Harvey, in one of his radio broadcasts, "The Rest of the Story," 

told how showing sincere appreciation can change a person's life. He 

reported that years ago a teacher in Detroit asked Stevie Morris to 

help her find a mouse that was lost in the classroom. You see, she 

appreciated the fact that nature had given Stevie something no one 

else in the room had. Nature had given Stevie a remarkable pair of 

ears to compensate for his blind eyes. But this was really the first 

time Stevie had been shown appreciation for those talented ears. 

Now, years later, he says that this act of appreciation was the 

beginning of a new life. You see, from that time on he developed his 

gift of hearing and went on to become, under the stage name of 

Stevie Wonder, one of the great pop singers and and songwriters of 

the seventies.* 

* Paul Aurandt, Paul Harvey's The Rest of the Story (New York: 

Doubleday, 1977). Edited and compiled by Lynne Harvey. Copyright 

(c) by Paulynne, Inc. 

Some readers are saying right now as they read these lines: "Oh, 

phooey! Flattery! Bear oil! I've tried that stuff. It doesn't work - not 

with intelligent people." 

Of course flattery seldom works with discerning people. It is shallow, 

selfish and insincere. It ought to fail and it usually does. True, some 

people are so hungry, so thirsty, for appreciation that they will 

swallow anything, just as a starving man will eat grass and 

fishworms. 

Even Queen Victoria was susceptible to flattery. Prime Minister 

Benjamin Disraeli confessed that he put it on thick in dealing with 

the Queen. To use his exact words, he said he "spread it on with a

trowel." But Disraeli was one of the most polished, deft and adroit 

men who ever ruled the far-flung British Empire. He was a genius in 

his line. What would work for him wouldn't necessarily work for you 

and me. In the long run, flattery will do you more harm than good. 

Flattery is counterfeit, and like counterfeit money, it will eventually 

get you into trouble if you pass it to someone else. 

The difference between appreciation and flattery? That is simple. 

One is sincere and the other insincere. One comes from the heart 

out; the other from the teeth out. One is unselfish; the other selfish. 

One is universally admired; the other universally condemned. 

I recently saw a bust of Mexican hero General Alvaro Obregon in the 

Chapultepec palace in Mexico City. Below the bust are carved these 

wise words from General Obregon's philosophy: "Don't be afraid of 

enemies who attack you. Be afraid of the friends who flatter you." 

No! No! No! I am not suggesting flattery! Far from it. I'm talking 

about a new way of life. Let me repeat. I am talking about a new 

way of life. 

King George V had a set of six maxims displayed on the walls of his 

study at Buckingham Palace. One of these maxims said: "Teach me 

neither to proffer nor receive cheap praise." That's all flattery is - 

cheap praise. I once read a definition of flattery that may be worth 

repeating: "Flattery is telling the other person precisely what he 

thinks about himself." 

"Use what language you will," said Ralph Waldo Emerson, "you can 

never say anything but what you are ." 

If all we had to do was flatter, everybody would catch on and we 

should all be experts in human relations. 

When we are not engaged in thinking about some definite problem, 

we usually spend about 95 percent of our time thinking about 

ourselves. Now, if we stop thinking about ourselves for a while and 

begin to think of the other person's good points, we won't have to 

resort to flattery so cheap and false that it can be spotted almost 

before it is out of the mouth, 

One of the most neglected virtues of our daily existence is 

appreciation, Somehow, we neglect to praise our son or daughter 

when he or she brings home a good report card, and we fail to 

encourage our children when they first succeed in baking a cake or 

building a birdhouse. 

Nothing pleases children more than this kind of parental interest and 

approval.

The next time you enjoy filet mignon at the club, send word to the 

chef that it was excellently prepared, and when a tired salesperson 

shows you unusual courtesy, please mention it. 

Every minister, lecturer and public speaker knows the 

discouragement of pouring himself or herself out to an audience and 

not receiving a single ripple of appreciative comment. What applies 

to professionals applies doubly to workers in offices, shops and 

factories and our families and friends. In our interpersonal relations 

we should never forget that all our associates are human beings and 

hunger for appreciation. It is the legal tender that all souls enjoy. 

Try leaving a friendly trail of little sparks of gratitude on your daily 

trips. You will be surprised how they will set small flames of 

friendship that will be rose beacons on your next visit. 

Pamela Dunham of New Fairfield, Connecticut, had among her 

responsibilities on her job the supervision of a janitor who was doing 

a very poor job. The other employees would jeer at him and litter the 

hallways to show him what a bad job he was doing. It was so bad, 

productive time was being lost in the shop. 

Without success, Pam tried various ways to motivate this person. 

She noticed that occasionally he did a particularly good piece of 

work. She made a point to praise him for it in front of the other 

people. Each day the job he did all around got better, and pretty 

soon he started doing all his work efficiently. Now he does an 

excellent job and other people give him appreciation and recognition. 

Honest appreciation got results where criticism and ridicule failed. 

Hurting people not only does not change them, it is never called for. 

There is an old saying that I have cut out and pasted on my mirror 

where I cannot help but see it every day: 

I shall pass this way but once; any good, therefore, that I can do or 

any kindness that I can show to any human being, let me do it now. 

Let me not defer nor neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again. 

Emerson said: "Every man I meet is my superior in some way, In 

that, I learn of him." 

If that was true of Emerson, isn't it likely to be a thousand times 

more true of you and me? Let's cease thinking of our 

accomplishments, our wants. Let's try to figure out the other 

person's good points. Then forget flattery. Give honest, sincere 

appreciation. Be "hearty in your approbation and lavish in your 

praise," and people will cherish your words and treasure them and 

repeat them over a lifetime - repeat them years after you have 

forgotten them.

• Principle 2 Give honest and sincere appreciation. 

~~~~~~~ 

3 - "He Who Can Do This Has The Whole World With Him. He Who 

Cannot Walks A Lonely Way" 

I often went fishing up in Maine during the summer. Personally I am 

very fond of strawberries and cream, but I have found that for some 

strange reason, fish prefer worms. So when I went fishing, I didn't 

think about what I wanted. I thought about what they wanted. I 

didn't bait the hook with strawberries and cream. Rather, I dangled a 

worm or a grasshopper in front of the fish and said: "Wouldn't you 

like to have that?" 

Why not use the same common sense when fishing for people? 

That is what Lloyd George, Great Britain's Prime Minister during 

World War I, did. When someone asked him how he managed to 

stay in power after the other wartime leaders - Wilson, Orlando and 

Clemenceau - had been forgotten, he replied that if his staying on 

top might be attributed to any one thing, it would be to his having 

learned that it was necessary to bait the hook to suit the fish . 

Why talk about what we want? That is childish. Absurd. Of course, 

you are interested in what you want. You are eternally interested in 

it. But no one else is. The rest of us are just like you: we are 

interested in what we want. 

So the only way cm earth to influence other people is to talk about 

what they want and show them how to get it. 

Remember that tomorrow when you are trying to get somebody to 

do something. If, for example, you don't want your children to 

smoke, don't preach at them, and don't talk about what you want; 

but show them that cigarettes may keep them from making the 

basketball team or winning the hundred-yard dash. 

This is a good thing to remember regardless of whether you are 

dealing with children or calves or chimpanzees. For example: one 

day Ralph Waldo Emerson and his son tried to get a calf into the 

barn. But they made the common mistake of thinking only of what 

they wanted: Emerson pushed and his son pulled. But the calf was 

doing just what they were doing; he was thinking only of what he 

wanted; so he stiffened his legs and stubbornly refused to leave the 

pasture. The Irish housemaid saw their predicament. She couldn't 

write essays and books; but, on this occasion at least, she had more 

horse sense, or calf sense, than Emerson had. She thought of what 

the calf wanted; so she put her maternal finger in the calf's mouth 

and let the calf suck her finger as she gently led him into the barn.

Every act you have ever performed since the day you were born was 

performed because you wanted something. How about the time you 

gave a large contribution to the Red Cross? Yes, that is no exception 

to the rule. You gave the Red Cross the donation because you 

wanted to lend a helping hand; you wanted to do a beautiful, 

unselfish, divine act. " Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the 

least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." 

If you hadn't wanted that feeling more than you wanted your money, 

you would not have made the contribution. Of course, you might 

have made the contribution because you were ashamed to refuse or 

because a customer asked you to do it. But one thing is certain. You 

made the contribution because you wanted something. 

Harry A, Overstreet in his illuminating book Influencing Human 

Behavior said; "Action springs out of what we fundamentally desire 

... and the best piece of advice which can be given to would-be 

persuaders, whether in business, in the home, in the school, in 

politics, is: First, arouse in the other person an eager want. He who 

can do this has the whole world with him. He who cannot walks a 

lonely way." 

Andrew Carnegie, the poverty-stricken Scotch lad who started to 

work at two cents an hour and finally gave away $365 million, 

learned early in life that the only way to influence people is to talk in 

terms of what the other person wants. He attended school only four 

years; yet he learned how to handle people. 

To illustrate: His sister-in-law was worried sick over her two boys. 

They were at Yale, and they were so busy with their own affairs that 

they neglected to write home and paid no attention whatever to their 

mother's frantic letters. 

Then Carnegie offered to wager a hundred dollars that he could get 

an answer by return mail, without even asking for it. Someone called 

his bet; so he wrote his nephews a chatty letter, mentioning casually 

in a post-script that he was sending each one a five-dollar bill. 

He neglected, however, to enclose the money. 

Back came replies by return mail thanking "Dear Uncle Andrew" for 

his kind note and-you can finish the sentence yourself. 

Another example of persuading comes from Stan Novak of Cleveland, 

Ohio, a participant in our course. Stan came home from work one 

evening to find his youngest son, Tim, kicking and screaming on the 

living room floor. He was to start kindergarten the next day and was 

protesting that he would not go. Stan's normal reaction would have 

been to banish the child to his room and tell him he'd just better

make up his mind to go. He had no choice. But tonight, recognizing 

that this would not really help Tim start kindergarten in the best 

frame of mind, Stan sat down and thought, "If I were Tim, why 

would I be excited about going to kindergarten?" He and his wife 

made a list of all the fun things Tim would do such as finger painting, 

singing songs, making new friends. Then they put them into action. 

"We all started finger-painting on the kitchen table-my wife, Lil, my 

other son Bob, and myself, all having fun. Soon Tim was peeping 

around the corner. Next he was begging to participate. 'Oh, no! You 

have to go to kindergarten first to learn how to finger-paint.' With all 

the enthusiasm I could muster I went through the list talking in 

terms he could understand-telling him all the fun he would have in 

kindergarten. The next morning, I thought I was the first one up. I 

went downstairs and found Tim sitting sound asleep in the living 

room chair. 'What are you doing here?' I asked. 'I'm waiting to go to 

kindergarten. I don't want to be late.' The enthusiasm of our entire 

family had aroused in Tim an eager want that no amount of 

discussion or threat could have possibly accomplished." 

Tomorrow you may want to persuade somebody to do something. 

Before you speak, pause and ask yourself: "How can I make this 

person want to do it?" 

That question will stop us from rushing into a situation heedlessly, 

with futile chatter about our desires. 

At one time I rented the grand ballroom of a certain New York hotel 

for twenty nights in each season in order to hold a series of lectures. 

At the beginning of one season, I was suddenly informed that I 

should have to pay almost three times as much rent as formerly. 

This news reached me after the tickets had been printed and 

distributed and all announcements had been made. 

Naturally, I didn't want to pay the increase, but what was the use of 

talking to the hotel about what I wanted? They were interested only 

in what they wanted. So a couple of days later I went to see the 

manager. 

"I was a bit shocked when I got your letter," I said, "but I don't 

blame you at all. If I had been in your position, I should probably 

have written a similar letter myself. Your duty as the manager of the 

hotel is to make all the profit possible. If you don't do that, you will 

be fired and you ought to be fired. Now, let's take a piece of paper 

and write down the advantages and the disadvantages that will 

accrue to you, if you insist on this increase in rent." 

Then I took a letterhead and ran a line through the center and 

headed one column "Advantages" and the other column 

"Disadvantages."

I wrote down under the head "Advantages" these words: "Ballroom 

free." Then I went on to say: "You will have the advantage of having 

the ballroom free to rent for dances and conventions. That is a big 

advantage, for affairs like that will pay you much more than you can 

get for a series of lectures. If I tie your ballroom up for twenty nights 

during the course of the season, it is sure to mean a loss of some 

very profitable business to you. 

"Now, let's 'consider the disadvantages. First, instead of increasing 

your income from me, you are going to decrease it. In fact, you are 

going to wipe it out because I cannot pay the rent you are asking. I 

shall be forced to hold these lectures at some other place. 

"There's another disadvantage to you also. These lectures attract 

crowds of educated and cultured people to your hotel. That is good 

advertising for you, isn't it? In fact, if you spent five thousand dollars 

advertising in the newspapers, you couldn't bring as many people to 

look at your hotel as I can bring by these lectures. That is worth a lot 

to a hotel, isn't it?" 

As I talked, I wrote these two "disadvantages" under the proper 

heading, and handed the sheet of paper to the manager, saying: "I 

wish you would carefully consider both the advantages and 

disadvantages that are going to accrue to you and then give me your 

final decision." 

I received a letter the next day, informing me that my rent would be 

increased only 50 percent instead of 300 percent. 

Mind you, I got this reduction without saying a word about what I 

wanted. I talked all the time about what the other person wanted 

and how he could get it. 

Suppose I had done the human, natural thing; suppose I had 

stormed into his office and said, "What do you mean by raising my 

rent three hundred percent when you know the tickets have been 

printed and the announcements made? Three hundred percent! 

Ridiculous! Absurd! I won't pay it!" 

What would have happened then? An argument would have begun 

to steam and boil and sputter - and you know how arguments end. 

Even if I had convinced him that he was wrong, his pride would have 

made it difficult for him to back down and give in. 

Here is one of the best bits of advice ever given about the fine art of 

human relationships. "If there is any one secret of success," said 

Henry Ford, "it lies in the ability to get the other person's point of 

view and see things from that person's angle as well as from your 

own."

That is so good, I want to repeat it: "If there is any one secret of 

success, it lies in the ability to get the other person's point of view 

and see things from that person's angle as well as from your own." 

That is so simple, so obvious, that anyone ought to see the truth of it 

at a glance; yet 90 percent of the people on this earth ignore it 90 

percent of the time. 

An example? Look at the letters that come across your desk 

tomorrow morning, and you will find that most of them violate this 

important canon of common sense. Take this one, a letter written by 

the head of the radio department of an advertising agency with 

offices scattered across the continent. This letter was sent to the 

managers of local radio stations throughout the country. (I have set 

down, in brackets, my reactions to each paragraph.) 

Mr. John Blank, Blankville, Indiana 

Dear Mr. Blank: The ------ company desires to retain its position in 

advertising agency leadership in the radio field. 

[Who cares what your company desires? I am worried about my own 

problems. The bank is foreclosing the mortage on my house, the 

bugs are destroying the hollyhocks, the stock market tumbled 

yesterday. I missed the eight-fifteen this morning, I wasn't invited to 

the Jones's dance last night, the doctor tells me I have high blood 

pressure and neuritis and dandruff. And then what happens? I come 

down to the office this morning worried, open my mail and here is 

some little whippersnapper off in New York yapping about what his 

company wants. Bah! If he only realized what sort of impression his 

letter makes, he would get out of the advertising business and start 

manufacturing sheep dip.] 

This agency's national advertising accounts were the bulwark of the 

network. Our subsequent clearances of station time have kept us at 

the top of agencies year after year. 

[You are big and rich and right at the top, are you? So what? I don't 

give two whoops in Hades if you are as big as General Motors and 

General Electric and the General Staff of the U.S. Army all combined. 

If you had as much sense as a half-witted hummingbird, you would 

realize that I am interested in how big I am - not how big you are. 

All this talk about your enormous success makes me feel small and 

unimportant.] 

We desire to service our accounts with the last word on radio station 

information.

[You desire! You desire. You unmitigated ass. I'm not interested in 

what you desire or what the President of the United States desires. 

Let me tell you once and for all that I am interested in what I desire 

- and you haven't said a word about that yet in this absurd letter of 

yours .] 

Will you, therefore, put the ---------- company on your preferred list 

for weekly station information - every single detail that will be useful 

to an agency in intelligently booking time. 

["Preferred list." You have your nerve! You make me feel 

insignificant by your big talk about your company - nd then you ask 

me to put you on a "preferred" list, and you don't even say "please" 

when you ask it.] 

A prompt acknowledgment of this letter, giving us your latest 

"doings," will be mutually helpful. 

[You fool! You mail me a cheap form letter - a letter scattered far 

and wide like the autumn leaves - and you have the gall to ask me, 

when I am worried about the mortgage and the hollyhocks and my 

blood pressure, to sit down and dictate a personal note 

acknowledging your form letter - and you ask me to do it "promptly." 

What do you mean, "promptly".? Don't you know I am just as busy 

as you are - or, at least, I like to think I am. And while we are on the 

subject, who gave you the lordly right to order me around? ... You 

say it will be "mutually helpful." At last, at last, you have begun to 

see my viewpoint. But you are vague about how it will be to my 

advantage.] 

Very truly yours, John Doe Manager Radio Department 

P.S. The enclosed reprint from the Blankville Journal will be of 

interest to you, and you may want to broadcast it over your station. 

[Finally, down here in the postscript, you mention something that 

may help me solve one of my problems. Why didn't you begin your 

letter with - but what's the use? Any advertising man who is guilty of 

perpetrating such drivel as you have sent me has something wrong 

with his medulla oblongata. You don't need a letter giving our latest 

doings. What you need is a quart of iodine in your thyroid gland.] 

Now, if people who devote their lives to advertising and who pose as 

experts in the art of influencing people to buy - if they write a letter 

like that, what can we expect from the butcher and baker or the auto 

mechanic? 

Here is another letter, written by the superintendent of a large 

freight terminal to a student of this course, Edward Vermylen. What

effect did this letter have on the man to whom it was addressed? 

Read it and then I'll tell you. 

A. Zerega's Sons, Inc. 28 Front St. Brooklyn, N.Y. 11201 Attention: 

Mr. Edward Vermylen Gentlemen: 

The operations at our outbound-rail-receiving station are 

handicapped because a material percentage of the total business is 

delivered us in the late afternoon. This condition results in 

congestion, overtime on the part of our forces, delays to trucks, and 

in some cases delays to freight. On November 10, we received from 

your company a lot of 510 pieces, which reached here at 4:20 P.M. 

We solicit your cooperation toward overcoming the undesirable 

effects arising from late receipt of freight. May we ask that, on days 

on which you ship the volume which was received on the above 

date, effort be made either to get the truck here earlier or to deliver 

us part of the freight during the morning? 

The advantage that would accrue to you under such an arrangement 

would be that of more expeditious discharge of your trucks and the 

assurance that your business would go forward on the date of its 

receipt. 

Very truly yours, J----- B ----- Supt. 

After reading this letter, Mr. Vermylen, sales manager for A. Zerega's 

Sons, Inc., sent it to me with the following comment: 

This letter had the reverse effect from that which was intended. The 

letter begins by describing the Terminal's difficulties, in which we are 

not interested, generally speaking. Our cooperation is then requested 

without any thought as to whether it would inconvenience us, and 

then, finally, in the last paragraph, the fact is mentioned that if we 

do cooperate it will mean more expeditious discharge of our trucks 

with the assurance that our freight will go forward on the date of its 

receipt. 

In other words, that in which we are most interested is mentioned 

last and the whole effect is one of raising a spirit of antagonism 

rather than of cooperation. 

Let's see if we can't rewrite and improve this letter. Let's not waste 

any time talking about our problems. As Henry Ford admonishes, 

let's "get the other person's point of view and see things from his or 

her angle, as well as from our own." 

Here is one way of revising the letter. It may not be the best way, 

but isn't it an improvement?

Mr. Edward Vermylen % A. Zerega's Sons, Inc. 28 Front St. 

Brooklyn, N.Y. 11201 

Dear Mr. Vermylen: 

Your company has been one of our good customers for fourteen 

years. Naturally, we are very grateful for your patronage and are 

eager to give you the speedy, efficient service you deserve. 

However, we regret to say that it isn't possible for us to do that 

when your trucks bring us a large shipment late in the afternoon, as 

they did on November 10. Why? Because many other customers 

make late afternoon deliveries also. Naturally, that causes 

congestion. That means your trucks are held up unavoidably at the 

pier and sometimes even your freight is delayed. 

That's bad, but it can be avoided. If you make your deliveries at the 

pier in the morning when possible, your trucks will be able to keep 

moving, your freight will get immediate attention, and our workers 

will get home early at night to enjoy a dinner of the delicious 

macaroni and noodles that you manufacture. 

Regardless of when your shipments arrive, we shall always cheerfully 

do all in our power to serve you promptly. You are busy. Please don't 

trouble to answer this note. 

Yours truly, J----- B-----, supt. 

Barbara Anderson, who worked in a bank in New York, desired to 

move to Phoenix, Arizona, because of the health of her son. Using 

the principles she had learned in our course, she wrote the following 

letter to twelve banks in Phoenix: 

Dear Sir: 

My ten years of bank experience should be of interest to a rapidly 

growing bank like yours. 

In various capacities in bank operations with the Bankers Trust 

Company in New York, leading to my present assignment as Branch 

Manager, I have acquired skills in all phases of banking including 

depositor relations, credits, loans and administration. 

I will be relocating to Phoenix in May and I am sure I can contribute 

to your growth and profit. I will be in Phoenix the week of April 3 

and would appreciate the opportunity to show you how I can help 

your bank meet its goals. 

Sincerely, Barbara L. Anderson

Do you think Mrs. Anderson received any response from that letter? 

Eleven of the twelve banks invited her to be interviewed, and she 

had a choice of which bank's offer to accept. Why? Mrs. Anderson 

did not state what she wanted, but wrote in the letter how she could 

help them, and focused on their wants, not her own. 

Thousands of salespeople are pounding the pavements today, tired, 

discouraged and underpaid. Why? Because they are always thinking 

only of what they want. They don't realize that neither you nor I 

want to buy anything. If we did, we would go out and buy it. But 

both of us are eternally interested in solving our problems. And if 

salespeople can show us how their services or merchandise will help 

us solve our problems, they won't need to sell us. We'll buy. And 

customers like to feel that they are buying - not being sold. 

Yet many salespeople spend a lifetime in selling without seeing 

things from the customer's angle. For example, for many years I 

lived in Forest Hills, a little community of private homes in the center 

of Greater New York. One day as I was rushing to the station, I 

chanced to meet a real-estate operator who had bought and sold 

property in that area for many years. He knew Forest Hills well, so I 

hurriedly asked him whether or not my stucco house was built with 

metal lath or hollow tile. He said he didn't know and told me what I 

already knew - that I could find out by calling the Forest Hills Garden 

Association. The following morning, I received a letter from him. Did 

he give me the information I wanted? He could have gotten it in 

sixty seconds by a telephone call. But he didn't. He told me again 

that I could get it by telephoning, and then asked me to let him 

handle my insurance. 

He was not interested in helping me. He was interested only in 

helping himself. 

J. Howard Lucas of Birmingham, Alabama, tells how two salespeople 

from the same company handled the same type of situation, He 

reported: 

"Several years ago I was on the management team of a small 

company. Headquartered near us was the district office of a large 

insurance company. Their agents were assigned territories, and our 

company was assigned to two agents, whom I shall refer to as Carl 

and John. 

"One morning, Carl dropped by our office and casually mentioned 

that his company had just introduced a new life insurance policy for 

executives and thought we might be interested later on and he 

would get back to us when he had more information on it. 

"The same day, John saw us on the sidewalk while returning from a 

coffee break, and he shouted: 'Hey Luke, hold up, I have some great

news for you fellows.' He hurried over and very excitedly told us 

about an executive life insurance policy his company had introduced 

that very day. (It was the same policy that Carl had casually 

mentioned.) He wanted us to have one of the first issued. He gave 

us a few important facts about the coverage and ended saying, 'The 

policy is so new, I'm going to have someone from the home office 

come out tomorrow and explain it. Now, in the meantime, let's get 

the applications signed and on the way so he can have more 

information to work with.' His enthusiasm aroused in us an eager 

want for this policy even though we still did not have details, When 

they were made available to us, they confirmed John's initial 

understanding of the policy, and he not only sold each of us a policy, 

but later doubled our coverage. 

"Carl could have had those sales, but he made no effort to arouse in 

us any desire for the policies." 

The world is full of people who are grabbing and self-seeking. So the 

rare individual who unselfishly tries to serve others has an enormous 

advantage. He has little competition. Owen D. Young, a noted lawyer 

and one of America's great business leaders, once said: "People who 

can put themselves in the place of other people who can understand 

the workings of their minds, need never worry about what the future 

has in store for them." 

If out of reading this book you get just one thing - an increased 

tendency to think always in terms of other people's point of view, 

and see things from their angle - if you get that one thing out of this 

book, it may easily prove to be one of the building blocks of your 

career. 

Looking at the other person's point of view and arousing in him an 

eager want for something is not to be construed as manipulating 

that person so that he will do something that is only for your benefit 

and his detriment. Each party should gain from the negotiation. In 

the letters to Mr. Vermylen, both the sender and the receiver of the 

correspondence gained by implementing what was suggested. Both 

the bank and Mrs. Anderson won by her letter in that the bank 

obtained a valuable employee and Mrs. Anderson a suitable job. And 

in the example of John's sale of insurance to Mr. Lucas, both gained 

through this transaction. 

Another example in which everybody gains through this principle of 

arousing an eager want comes from Michael E. Whidden of Warwick, 

Rhode Island, who is a territory salesman for the Shell Oil Company. 

Mike wanted to become the Number One salesperson in his district, 

but one service station was holding him back. It was run by an older 

man who could not be motivated to clean up his station. It was in 

such poor shape that sales were declining significantly.

This manager would not listen to any of Mike's pleas to upgrade the 

station. After many exhortations and heart-to-heart talks - all of 

which had no impact - Mike decided to invite the manager to visit the 

newest Shell station in his territory. 

The manager was so impressed by the facilities at the new station 

that when Mike visited him the next time, his station was cleaned up 

and had recorded a sales increase. This enabled Mike to reach the 

Number One spot in his district. All his talking and discussion hadn't 

helped, but by arousing an eager want in the manager, by showing 

him the modern station, he had accomplished his goal, and both the 

manager and Mike benefited. 

Most people go through college and learn to read Virgil and master 

the mysteries of calculus without ever discovering how their own 

minds function. For instance: I once gave a course in Effective 

Speaking for the young college graduates who were entering the 

employ of the Carrier Corporation, the large air-conditioner 

manufacturer. One of the participants wanted to persuade the others 

to play basketball in their free time, and this is about what he said: 

"I want you to come out and play basketball. I like to play basketball, 

but the last few times I've been to the gymnasium there haven't 

been enough people to get up a game. Two or three of us got to 

throwing the ball around the other night - and I got a black eye. I 

wish all of you would come down tomorrow night. I want to play 

basketball." 

Did he talk about anything you want? You don't want to go to a 

gymnasium that no one else goes to, do you? You don't care about 

what he wants. You don't want to get a black eye. 

Could he have shown you how to get the things you want by using 

the gymnasium? Surely. More pep. Keener edge to the appetite. 

Clearer brain. Fun. Games. Basketball. 

To repeat Professor Overstreet's wise advice: First, arouse in the 

other person an eager want He who can do this has the whole world 

with him. He who cannot walks a lonely way. 

One of the students in the author's training course was worried 

about his little boy. The child was underweight and refused to eat 

properly. His parents used the usual method. They scolded and 

nagged. "Mother wants you to eat this and that." "Father wants you 

to grow up to be a big man." 

Did the boy pay any attention to these pleas? Just about as much as 

you pay to one fleck of sand on a sandy beach. 

No one with a trace of horse sense would expect a child three years 

old to react to the viewpoint of a father thirty years old. Yet that was

precisely what that father had expected. It was absurd. He finally 

saw that. So he said to himself: "What does that boy want? How can 

I tie up what I want to what he wants?" 

It was easy for the father when he starting thinking about it. His boy 

had a tricycle that he loved to ride up and down the sidewalk in front 

of the house in Brooklyn. A few doors down the street lived a bully - 

a bigger boy who would pull the little boy off his tricycle and ride it 

himself. 

Naturally, the little boy would run screaming to his mother, and she 

would have to come out and take the bully off the tricycle and put 

her little boy on again, This happened almost every day. 

What did the little boy want? It didn't take a Sherlock Holmes to 

answer that one. His pride, his anger, his desire for a feeling of 

importance - all the strongest emotions in his makeup - goaded him 

to get revenge, to smash the bully in the nose. And when his father 

explained that the boy would be able to wallop the daylights out of 

the bigger kid someday if he would only eat the things his mother 

wanted him to eat - when his father promised him that - there was 

no longer any problem of dietetics. That boy would have eaten 

spinach, sauerkraut, salt mackerel - anything in order to be big 

enough to whip the bully who had humiliated him so often. 

After solving that problem, the parents tackled another: the little boy 

had the unholy habit of wetting his bed. 

He slept with his grandmother. In the morning, his grandmother 

would wake up and feel the sheet and say: "Look, Johnny, what you 

did again last night." 

He would say: "No, I didn't do it. You did it." 

Scolding, spanking, shaming him, reiterating that the parents didn't 

want him to do it - none of these things kept the bed dry. So the 

parents asked: "How can we make this boy want to stop wetting his 

bed?" 

What were his wants? First, he wanted to wear pajamas like Daddy 

instead of wearing a nightgown like Grandmother. Grandmother was 

getting fed up with his nocturnal iniquities, so she gladly offered to 

buy him a pair of pajamas if he would reform. Second, he wanted a 

bed of his own. Grandma didn't object. 

His mother took him to a department store in Brooklyn, winked at 

the salesgirl, and said: "Here is a little gentleman who would like to 

do some shopping."

The salesgirl made him feel important by saying: "Young man, what 

can I show you?" 

He stood a couple of inches taller and said: "I want to buy a bed for 

myself." 

When he was shown the one his mother wanted him to buy, she 

winked at the salesgirl and the boy was persuaded to buy it. 

The bed was delivered the next day; and that night, when Father 

came home, the little boy ran to the door shouting: "Daddy! Daddy! 

Come upstairs and see my bed that I bought!" 

The father, looking at the bed, obeyed Charles Schwab's injunction: 

he was "hearty in his approbation and lavish in his praise." 

"You are not going to wet this bed, are you?" the father said. " Oh, 

no, no! I am not going to wet this bed." The boy kept his promise, 

for his pride was involved. That was his bed. He and he alone had 

bought it. And he was wearing pajamas now like a little man. He 

wanted to act like a man. And he did. 

Another father, K.T. Dutschmann, a telephone engineer, a student of 

this course, couldn't get his three-year old daughter to eat breakfast 

food. The usual scolding, pleading, coaxing methods had all ended in 

futility. So the parents asked themselves: "How can we make her 

want to do it?" 

The little girl loved to imitate her mother, to feel big and grown up; 

so one morning they put her on a chair and let her make the 

breakfast food. At just the psychological moment, Father drifted into 

the kitchen while she was stirring the cereal and she said: "Oh, look, 

Daddy, I am making the cereal this morning." 

She ate two helpings of the cereal without any coaxing, because she 

was interested in it. She had achieved a feeling of importance; she 

had found in making the cereal an avenue of self-expression. 

William Winter once remarked that "self-expression is the dominant 

necessity of human nature." Why can't we adapt this same 

psychology to business dealings? When we have a brilliant idea, 

instead of making others think it is ours, why not let them cook and 

stir the idea themselves. They will then regard it as their own; they 

will like it and maybe eat a couple of helpings of it. 

Remember: "First, arouse in the other person an eager want. He 

who can do this has the whole world with him. He who cannot walks 

a lonely way." 

• Principle 3 - Arouse in the other person an eager want.

In a Nutshell Fundamental Techniques In Handling People 

• Principle 1 Don't criticize, condemn or complain. 

• Principle 2 Give honest and sincere appreciation. 

• Principle 3 Arouse in the other person an eager want. 

--------------------------------- 

Part Two - Ways To Make People Like You 

1 Do This And You'll Be Welcome Anywhere 

Why read this book to find out how to win friends? Why not study 

the technique of the greatest winner of friends the world has ever 

known? Who is he? You may meet him tomorrow coming down the 

street. When you get within ten feet of him, he will begin to wag his 

tail. If you stop and pat him, he will almost jump out of his skin to 

show you how much he likes you. And you know that behind this 

show of affection on his part, there are no ulterior motives: he 

doesn't want to sell you any real estate, and he doesn't want to 

marry you. 

Did you ever stop to think that a dog is the only animal that doesn't 

have to work for a living? A hen has to lay eggs, a cow has to give 

milk, and a canary has to sing. But a dog makes his living by giving 

you nothing but love. 

When I was five years old, my father bought a little yellow-haired 

pup for fifty cents. He was the light and joy of my childhood. Every 

afternoon about four-thirty, he would sit in the front yard with his 

beautiful eyes staring steadfastly at the path, and as soon as he 

heard my voice or saw me swinging my dinner pail through the buck 

brush, he was off like a shot, racing breathlessly up the hill to greet 

me with leaps of joy and barks of sheer ecstasy. 

Tippy was my constant companion for five years. Then one tragic 

night - I shall never forget it - he was killed within ten feet of my 

head, killed by lightning. Tippy's death was the tragedy of my 

boyhood. 

You never read a book on psychology, Tippy. You didn't need to. You 

knew by some divine instinct that you can make more friends in two 

months by becoming genuinely interested in other people than you 

can in two years by trying to get other people interested in you. Let 

me repeat that. You can make more friends in two months by 

becoming interested in other people than you can in two years by 

trying to get other people interested in you.

Yet I know and you know people who blunder through life trying to 

wigwag other people into becoming interested in them. 

Of course, it doesn't work. People are not interested in you. They are 

not interested in me. They are interested in themselves - morning, 

noon and after dinner. 

The New York Telephone Company made a detailed study of 

telephone conversations to find out which word is the most 

frequently used. You have guessed it: it is the personal pronoun "I." 

"I." I." It was used 3,900 times in 500 telephone conversations. "I." 

"I." "I." "I." When you see a group photograph that you are in, 

whose picture do you look for first? 

If we merely try to impress people and get people interested in us, 

we will never have many true, sincere friends. Friends, real friends, 

are not made that way. 

Napoleon tried it, and in his last meeting with Josephine he said: 

"Josephine, I have been as fortunate as any man ever was on this 

earth; and yet, at this hour, you are the only person in the world on 

whom I can rely." And historians doubt whether he could rely even 

on her. 

Alfred Adler, the famous Viennese psychologist, wrote a book 

entitled What Life Should Mean to You. In that book he says: "It is 

the individual who is not interested in his fellow men who has the 

greatest difficulties in life and provides the greatest injury to others. 

It is from among such individuals that all human failures spring." 

You may read scores of erudite tomes on psychology without coming 

across a statement more significant for you and for me. Adler's 

statement is so rich with meaning that I am going to repeat it in 

italics: 

It is the individual who is not interested in his fellow men who has 

the greatest difjculties in life and provides the greutest injury to 

others. It is from umong such individuals that all humun failures 

spring. 

I once took a course in short-story writing at New York University, 

and during that course the editor of a leading magazine talked to our 

class. He said he could pick up any one of the dozens of stories that 

drifted across his desk every day and after reading a few paragraphs 

he could feel whether or not the author liked people. "If the author 

doesn't like people," he said, "people won't like his or her stories." 

This hard-boiled editor stopped twice in the course of his talk on 

fiction writing and apologized for preaching a sermon. "I am telling 

you," he said, "the same things your preacher would tell you, but

emember, you have to be interested in people if you want to be a 

successful writer of stories." 

If that is true of writing fiction, you can be sure it is true of dealing 

with people face-to-face. 

I spent an evening in the dressing room of Howard Thurston the last 

time he appeared on Broadway -Thurston was the acknowledged 

dean of magicians. For forty years he had traveled all over the world, 

time and again, creating illusions, mystifying audiences, and making 

people gasp with astonishment. More than 60 million people had 

paid admission to his show, and he had made almost $2 million in 

profit. 

I asked Mr. Thurston to tell me the secret of his success. His 

schooling certainly had nothing to do with it, for he ran away from 

home as a small boy, became a hobo, rode in boxcars, slept in 

haystacks, begged his food from door to door, and learned to read 

by looking out of boxcars at signs along the railway. 

Did he have a superior knowledge of magic? No, he told me 

hundreds of books had been written about legerdemain and scores 

of people knew as much about it as he did. But he had two things 

that the others didn't have. First, he had the ability to put his 

personality across the footlights. He was a master showman. He 

knew human nature. Everything he did, every gesture, every 

intonation of his voice, every lifting of an eyebrow had been carefully 

rehearsed in advance, and his actions were timed to split seconds. 

But, in addition to that, Thurston had a genuine interest in people. 

He told me that many magicians would look at the audience and say 

to themselves, "Well, there is a bunch of suckers out there, a bunch 

of hicks; I'll fool them all right." But Thurston's method was totally 

different. He told me that every time he went on stage he said to 

himself: "I am grateful because these people come to see me, They 

make it possible for me to make my living in a very agreeable way. 

I'm going to give them the very best I possibly can." 

He declared he never stepped in front of the footlights without first 

saying to himself over and over: "I love my audience. I love my 

audience." Ridiculous? Absurd? You are privileged to think anything 

you like. I am merely passing it on to you without comment as a 

recipe used by one of the most famous magicians of all time. 

George Dyke of North Warren, Pennsylvania, was forced to retire 

from his service station business after thirty years when a new 

highway was constructed over the site of his station. It wasn't long 

before the idle days of retirement began to bore him, so he started 

filling in his time trying to play music on his old fiddle. Soon he was 

traveling the area to listen to music and talk with many of the 

accomplished fiddlers. In his humble and friendly way he became

generally interested in learning the background and interests of 

every musician he met. Although he was not a great fiddler himself, 

he made many friends in this pursuit. He attended competitions and 

soon became known to the country music fans in the eastern part of 

the United States as "Uncle George, the Fiddle Scraper from Kinzua 

County." When we heard Uncle George, he was seventy-two and 

enjoying every minute of his life. By having a sustained interest in 

other people, he created a new life for himself at a time when most 

people consider their productive years over. 

That, too, was one of the secrets of Theodore Roosevelt's 

astonishing popularity. Even his servants loved him. His valet, James 

E. Amos, wrote a book about him entitled Theodore Roosevelt, Hero 

to His Valet. In that book Amos relates this illuminating incident: 

My wife one time asked the President about a bobwhite. She had 

never seen one and he described it to her fully. Sometime later, the 

telephone at our cottage rang. [Amos and his wife lived in a little 

cottage on the Roosevelt estate at Oyster Bay.] My wife answered it 

and it was Mr. Roosevelt himself. He had called her, he said, to tell 

her that there was a bobwhite outside her window and that if she 

would look out she might see it. Little things like that were so 

characteristic of him. Whenever he went by our cottage, even 

though we were out of sight, we would hear him call out: "Oo-oo-oo, 

Annie?" or "Oo-oo-oo, James!" It was just a friendly greeting as he 

went by. 

How could employees keep from liking a man like that? How could 

anyone keep from liking him? Roosevelt called at the White House 

one day when the President and Mrs. Taft were away. His honest 

liking for humble people was shown by the fact that he greeted all 

the old White House servants by name, even the scullery maids. 

"When he saw Alice, the kitchen maid," writes Archie Butt, "he asked 

her if she still made corn bread. Alice told him that she sometimes 

made it for the servants, but no one ate it upstairs. 

"'They show bad taste,' Roosevelt boomed, 'and I'll tell the President 

so when I see him.' 

"Alice brought a piece to him on a plate, and he went over to the 

office eating it as he went and greeting gardeners and laborers as he 

passed. . . 

"He addressed each person just as he had addressed them in the 

past. Ike Hoover, who had been head usher at the White House for 

forty years, said with tears in his eyes: 'It is the only happy day we 

had in nearly two years, and not one of us would exchange it for a 

hundred-dollar bill.' "

The same concern for the seemingly unimportant people helped 

sales representative Edward M. Sykes, Jr., of Chatham, New Jersey, 

retain an account. "Many years ago," he reported, "I called on 

customers for Johnson and Johnson in the Massachusetts area. One 

account was a drug store in Hingham. Whenever I went into this 

store I would always talk to the soda clerk and sales clerk for a few 

minutes before talking to the owner to obtain his order. One day I 

went up to the owner of the store, and he told me to leave as he 

was not interested in buying J&J products anymore because he felt 

they were concentrating their activities on food and discount stores 

to the detriment of the small drugstore. I left with my tail between 

my legs and drove around the town for several hours. Finally, I 

decided to go back and try at least to explain our position to the 

owner of the store. 

"When I returned I walked in and as usual said hello to the soda 

clerk and sales clerk. When I walked up to the owner, he smiled at 

me and welcomed me back. He then gave me double the usual 

order, I looked at him with surprise and asked him what had 

happened since my visit only a few hours earlier. He pointed to the 

young man at the soda fountain and said that after I had left, the 

boy had come over and said that I was one of the few salespeople 

that called on the store that even bothered to say hello to him and to 

the others in the store. He told the owner that if any salesperson 

deserved his business, it was I. The owner agreed and remained a 

loyal customer. I never forgot that to be genuinely interested in 

other people is a most important quality for a sales-person to 

possess - for any person, for that matter." 

I have discovered from personal experience that one can win the 

attention and time and cooperation of even the most sought-after 

people by becoming genuinely interested in them. Let me illustrate. 

Years ago I conducted a course in fiction writing at the Brooklyn 

Institute of Arts and Sciences, and we wanted such distinguished and 

busy authors as Kathleen Norris, Fannie Hurst, Ida Tarbell, Albert 

Payson Terhune and Rupert Hughes to come to Brooklyn and give us 

the benefit of their experiences. So we wrote them, saying we 

admired their work and were deeply interested in getting their advice 

and learning the secrets of their success. 

Each of these letters was signed by about a hundred and fifty 

students. We said we realized that these authors were busy - too 

busy to prepare a lecture. So we enclosed a list of questions for 

them to answer about themselves and their methods of work. They 

liked that. Who wouldn't like it? So they left their homes and traveled 

to Brooklyn to give us a helping hand. 

By using the same method, I persuaded Leslie M. Shaw, secretary of 

the treasury in Theodore Roosevelt's cabinet; George W.

Wickersham, attorney general in Taft's cabinet; William Jennings 

Bryan; Franklin D. Roosevelt and many other prominent men to 

come to talk to the students of my courses in public speaking. 

All of us, be we workers in a factory, clerks in an office or even a 

king upon his throne - all of us like people who admire us. Take the 

German Kaiser, for example. At the close of World War I he was 

probably the most savagely and universally despised man on this 

earth. Even his own nation turned against him when he fled over into 

Holland to save his neck. The hatred against him was so intense that 

millions of people would have loved to tear him limb from limb or 

burn him at the stake. In the midst of all this forest fire of fury, one 

little boy wrote the Kaiser a simple, sincere letter glowing with 

kindliness and admiration. This little boy said that no matter what 

the others thought, he would always love Wilhelm as his Emperor. 

The Kaiser was deeply touched by his letter and invited the little boy 

to come to see him. The boy came, so did his mother - and the 

Kaiser married her. That little boy didn't need to read a book on how 

to win friends and influence people. He knew how instinctively. 

If we want to make friends, let's put ourselves out to do things for 

other people - things that require time, energy, unselfishness and 

thoughtfulness. When the Duke of Windsor was Prince of Wales, he 

was scheduled to tour South America, and before he started out on 

that tour he spent months studying Spanish so that he could make 

public talks in the language of the country; and the South Americans 

loved him for it. 

For years I made it a point to find out the birthdays of my friends. 

How? Although I haven't the foggiest bit of faith in astrology, I 

began by asking the other party whether he believed the date of 

one's birth has anything to do with character and disposition. I then 

asked him or her to tell me the month and day of birth. If he or she 

said November 24, for example, I kept repeating to myself, 

"November 24, November 24." The minute my friend's back was 

turned, I wrote down the name and birthday and later would transfer 

it to a birthday book. At the beginning of each year, I had these 

birthday dates scheduled in my calendar pad so that they came to 

my attention automatically. When the natal day arrived, there was 

my letter or telegram. What a hit it made! I was frequently the only 

person on earth who remembered. 

If we want to make friends, let's greet people with animation and 

enthusiasm. When somebody calls you on the telephone use the 

same psychology. Say "Hello" in tones that bespeak how pleased 

YOU are to have the person call. Many companies train their 

telephone operatars to greet all callers in a tone of voice that 

radiates interest and enthusiasm. The caller feels the company is 

concerned about them. Let's remember that when we answer the 

telephone tomorrow.

Showing a genuine interest in others not only wins friends for you, 

but may develop in its customers a loyalty to your company. In an 

issue of the publication of the National Bank of North America of 

New York, the following letter from Madeline Rosedale, a depositor, 

was published: * 

* Eagle, publication of the Natirmal Bank of North America, h-ew 

York, March 31, 1978. 

"I would like you to know how much I appreciate your staff. 

Everyone is so courteous, polite and helpful. What a pleasure it is, 

after waiting on a long line, to have the teller greet you pleasantly. 

"Last year my mother was hospitalized for five months. Frequently I 

went to Marie Petrucello, a teller. She was concerned about my 

mother and inquired about her progress." 

Is there any doubt that Mrs. Rosedale will continue to use this bank? 

Charles R. Walters, of one of the large banks in New York City, was 

assigned to prepare a confidential report on a certain corporation. He 

knew of only one person who possessed the facts he needed so 

urgently. As Mr. Walters was ushered into the president's office, a 

young woman stuck her head through a door and told the president 

that she didn't have any stamps for him that day. 

"I am collecting stamps for my twelve-year-old son," the president 

explained to Mr. Walters. 

Mr. Walters stated his mission and began asking questions. The 

president was vague, general, nebulous. He didn't want to talk, and 

apparently nothing could persuade him to talk. The interview was 

brief and barren. 

"Frankly, I didn't know what to do," Mr. Walters said as he related 

the story to the class. "Then I remembered what his secretary had 

said to him - stamps, twelve-year-old son. . . And I also recalled that 

the foreign department of our bank collected stamps - stamps taken 

from letters pouring in from every continent washed by the seven 

seas. 

"The next afternoon I called on this man and sent in word that I had 

some stamps for his boy. Was I ushered in with enthusiasm? Yes sir, 

He couldn't have shaken my hand with more enthusiasm if he had 

been running for Congress. He radiated smiles and good will. 'My 

George will love this one,' he kept saying as he fondled the stamps. 

'And look at this! This is a treasure.'

"We spent half an hour talking stamps and looking at a picture of his 

boy, and he then devoted more than an hour of his time to giving 

me every bit of information I wanted - without my even suggesting 

that he do it. He told me all he knew, and then called in his 

subordinates and questioned them. He telephoned some of his 

associates. He loaded me down with facts, figures, reports and 

correspondence. In the parlance of newspaper reporters, I had a 

scoop." 

Here is another illustration: 

C. M. Knaphle, Jr., of Philadelphia had tried for years to sell fuel to a 

large chain-store organization. But the chain-store company 

continued to purchase its fuel from an out-of-town dealer and haul it 

right past the door of Knaphle's office. Mr, Knaphle made a speech 

one night before one of my classes, pouring out his hot wrath upon 

chain stores, branding them as a curse to the nation. 

And still he wondered why he couldn't sell them. 

I suggested that he try different tactics. To put it briefly, this is what 

happened. We staged a debate between members of the course on 

whether the spread of the chain store is doing the country more 

harm than good. 

Knaphle, at my suggestion, took the negative side; he agreed to 

defend the chain stores, and then went straight to an executive of 

the chain-store organization that he despised and said: "I am not 

here to try to sell fuel. I have come to ask you to do me a favor." He 

then told about his debate and said, "I have come to you for help 

because I can't think of anyone else who would be more capable of 

giving me the facts I want. I'm anxious to win this debate, and I'll 

deeply appreciate whatever help you can give me." 

Here is the rest of the story in Mr. Knaphle's own words: 

I had asked this man for precisely one minute of his time. It was 

with that understanding that he consented to see me. After I had 

stated my case, he motioned me to a chair and talked to me for 

exactly one hour and forty-seven minutes. He called in another 

executive who had written a book on chain stores. He wrote to the 

National Chain Store Association and secured for me a copy of a 

debate on the subject. He feels that the chain store is rendering a 

real service to humanity. He is proud of what he is doing for 

hundreds of communities. His eyes fairly glowed as he talked, and I 

must confess that he opened my eyes to things I had never even 

dreamed of. He changed my whole mental attitude. As I was leaving, 

he walked with me to the door, put his arm around my shoulder, 

wished me well in my debate, and asked me to stop in and see him 

again and let him know how I made out. The last words he said to

me were: "Please see me again later in the spring. I should like to 

place an order with you for fuel." 

To me that was almost a miracle. Here he was offering to buy fuel 

without my even suggesting it. I had made more headway in two 

hours by becoming genuinely interested in him and his problems 

than I could have made in ten years trying to get him interested in 

me and my product. 

You didn't discover a new truth, Mr. Knaphle, for a long time ago, a 

hundred years before Christ was born a famous old Roman poet, 

Publilius Syrus, remarked; "We are interested in others when they 

are interested in us." 

A show of interest, as with every other principle of human relations, 

must be sincere. It must pay off not only for the person showing the 

interest, but for the person receiving the attention. It is a two-way 

street-both parties benefit. 

Martin Ginsberg, who took our Course in Long Island New York, 

reported how the special interest a nurse took in him profoundly 

affected his life: 

"It was Thanksgiving Day and I was ten years old. I was in a welfare 

ward of a city hospital and was scheduled to undergo major 

orthopedic surgery the next day. I knew that I could only look 

forward to months of confinement, convalescence and pain. My 

father was dead; my mother and I lived alone in a small apartment 

and we were on welfare. My mother was unable to visit me that day. 

"As the day went on, I became overwhelmed with the feeling of 

loneliness, despair and fear. I knew my mother was home alone 

worrying about me, not having anyone to be with, not having anyone 

to eat with and not even having enough money to afford a 

Thanksgiving Day dinner. 

"The tears welled up in my eyes, and I stuck my head under the 

pillow and pulled the covers over it, I cried silently, but oh so bitterly, 

so much that my body racked with pain. 

"A young student nurse heard my sobbing and came over to me. She 

took the covers off my face and started wiping my tears. She told me 

how lonely she was, having to work that day and not being able to 

be with her family. She asked me whether I would have dinner with 

her. She brought two trays of food: sliced turkey, mashed a 

potatoes, cranberry sauce and ice cream for dessert. She talked to 

me and tried to calm my fears. Even though she was scheduled to go 

off duty at 4 P.M., she stayed on her own time until almost 11 P.M. 

She played games with me, talked to me and stayed with me until I 

finally fell asleep.

"Many Thanksgivings have come and gone since I was ten, but one 

never passes without me remembering that particular one and my 

feelings of frustration, fear, loneliness and the warmth and 

tenderness of the stranger that somehow made it all bearable." 

If you want others to like you, if you want to develop real 

friendships, if you want to help others at the same time as you help 

yourself, keep this principle in mind: 

• Principle 1 Become genuinely interested in other people. 

~~~~~~~ 

2 - A Simple Way To Make A Good First Impression 

At a dinner party in New York, one of the guests, a woman who had 

inherited money, was eager to make a pleasing impression on 

everyone. She had squandered a modest fortune on sables, 

diamonds and pearls. But she hadn't done anything whatever about 

her face. It radiated sourness and selfishness. She didn't realize what 

everyone knows: namely, that the expression one wears on one's 

face is far more important than the clothes one wears on one's back. 

Charles Schwab told me his smile had been worth a million dollars. 

And he was probably understating the truth. For Schwab's 

personality, his charm, his ability to make people like him, were 

almost wholly responsible for his extraordinary success; and one of 

the most delightful factors in his personality was his captivating 

smile. 

Actions speak louder than words, and a smile says, "I like you, You 

make me happy. I am glad to see you." That is why dogs make such 

a hit. They are so glad to see us that they almost jump out of their 

skins. So, naturally, we are glad to see them. 

A baby's smile has the same effect. 

Have you ever been in a doctor's waiting room and looked around at 

all the glum faces waiting impatiently to be seen? Dr, Stephen K. 

Sproul, a veterinarian in Raytown, Missouri, told of a typical spring 

day when his waiting room was full of clients waiting to have their 

pets inoculated. No one was talking to anyone else, and all were 

probably thinking of a dozen other things they would rather be doing 

than "wasting time" sitting in that office. He told one of our classes: 

"There were six or seven clients waiting when a young woman came 

in with a nine-month-old baby and a kitten. As luck would have it, 

she sat down next to a gentleman who was more than a little 

distraught about the long wait for service. The next thing he knew, 

the baby just looked up at him with that great big smile that is so

characteristic of babies. What did that gentleman do? Just what you 

and I would do, of course; he-smiled back at the baby. Soon he 

struck up a conversation with the woman about her baby and his 

grandchildren, and soon the entire reception room joined in, and the 

boredom and tension were converted into a pleasant and enjoyable 

experience." 

An insincere grin? No. That doesn't fool anybody. We know it is 

mechanical and we resent it. I am talking about a real smile, a 

heartwarming smile, a smile that comes from within, the kind of 

smile that will bring a good price in the marketplace. 

Professor James V. McConnell, a psychologist at the University of 

Michigan, expressed his feelings about a smile. "People who smile," 

he said, "tend to manage teach and sell more effectively, and to 

raise happier children. There's far more information in a smile than a 

frown. That's why encouragement is a much more effective teaching 

device than punishment." 

The employment manager of a large New York department store told 

me she would rather hire a sales clerk who hadn't finished grade 

school, if he or she has a pleasant smile, than to hire a doctor of 

philosophy with a somber face. 

The effect of a smile is powerful - even when it is unseen. Telephone 

companies throughout the United States have a program called 

"phone power" which is offered to employees who use the telephone 

for selling their services or products. In this program they suggest 

that you smile when talking on the phone. Your "smile" comes 

through in your voice. 

Robert Cryer, manager of a computer department for a Cincinnati, 

Ohio, company, told how he had successfully found the right 

applicant for a hard-to-fill position: 

"I was desperately trying to recruit a Ph.D. in computer science for 

my department. I finally located a young man with ideal 

qualifications who was about to be graduated from Purdue 

University. After several phone conversations I learned that he had 

several offers from other companies, many of them larger and better 

known than mine. I was delighted when he accepted my offer. After 

he started on the job, I asked him why he had chosen us over the 

others. He paused for a moment and then he said: 'I think it was 

because managers in the other companies spoke on the phone in a 

cold, business-like manner, which made me feel like just another 

business transaction, Your voice sounded as if you were glad to hear 

from me ... that you really wanted me to be part of your 

organization. ' You can be assured, I am still answering my phone 

with a smile."

The chairman of the board of directors of one of the largest rubber 

companies 'in the United States told me that, according to his 

observations, people rarely succeed at anything unless they have fun 

doing it. This industrial leader doesn't put much faith in the old 

adage that hard work alone is the magic key that will unlock the door 

to our desires, "I have known people," he said, "who succeeded 

because they had a rip-roaring good time conducting their business. 

Later, I saw those people change as the fun became work. The 

business had grown dull, They lost all joy in it, and they failed." 

You must have a good time meeting people if you expect them to 

have a good time meeting you. 

I have asked thousands of business people to smile at someone 

every hour of the day for a week and then come to class and talk 

about the results. How did it work? Let's see ... Here is a letter from 

William B. Steinhardt, a New York stockbroker. His case isn't isolated. 

In fact, it is typical of hundreds of cases. 

"1 have been married for over eighteen years," wrote Mr. Steinhardt, 

"and in all that time I seldom smiled at my wife or spoke two dozen 

words to her from the time I got up until I was ready to leave for 

business. I was one of the worst grouches who ever walked down 

Broadway. 

"When you asked me to make a talk about my experience with 

smiles, I thought I would try it for a week. So the next morning, 

while combing my hair, I looked at my glum mug in the mirror and 

said to myself, 'Bill, you are going to wipe the scowl off that sour 

puss of yours today. You are going to smile. And you are going to 

begin right now.' As I sat down to breakfast, I greeted my wife with 

a 'Good morning, my dear,' and smiled as I said it. 

"You warned me that she might be surprised. Well, you 

underestimated her reaction. She was bewildered. She was shocked. 

I told her that in the future she could expect this as a regular 

occurrence, and I kept it up every morning. 

"This changed attitude of mine brought more happiness into our 

home in the two months since I started than there was during the 

last year. 

"As I leave for my office, I greet the elevator operator in the 

apartment house with a 'Good morning' and a smile, I greet the 

doorman with a smile. I smile at the cashier in the subway booth 

when I ask for change. As I stand on the floor of the Stock 

Exchange, I smile at people who until recently never saw me smile. 

"I soon found that everybody was smiling back at me, I treat those 

who come to me with complaints or grievances in a cheerful manner,

I smile as I listen to them and I find that adjustments are 

accomplished much easier. I find that smiles are bringing me dollars, 

many dollars every day. 

"I share my office with another broker. One of his clerks is a likable 

young chap, and I was so elated about the results I was getting that 

I told him recently about my new philosophy of human relations. He 

then confessed that when I first came to share my office with his 

firm he thought me a terrible grouch - and only recently changed his 

mind. He said I was really human when I smiled. 

"I have also eliminated criticism from my system. I give appreciation 

and praise now instead of condemnation. I have stopped talking 

about what I want. I am now trying to see the other person's 

viewpoint. And these things have literally revolutionized my life. I am 

a totally different man, a happier man, a richer man, richer in 

friendships and happiness - the only things that matter much after 

all." 

You don't feel like smiling? Then what? Two things. First, force 

yourself to smile. If you are alone, force yourself to whistle or hum a 

tune or sing. Act as if you were already happy, and that will tend to 

make you happy. Here is the way the psychologist and philosopher 

William James put it: 

"Action seems to follow feeling, but really action and feeling go 

together; and by regulating the action, which is under the more 

direct control of the will, we can indirectly regulate the feeling, which 

is not. 

"Thus the sovereign voluntary path to cheerfulness, if our 

cheerfulness be lost, is to sit up cheerfully and to act and speak as if 

cheerfulness were already there. ..." 

Every body in the world is seeking happiness - and there is one sure 

way to find it. That is by controlling your thoughts. Happiness 

doesn't depend on outward conditions. It depends on inner 

conditions. 

It isn't what you have or who you are or where you are or what you 

are doing that makes you happy or unhappy. It is what you think 

about it. For example, two people may be in the same place, doing 

the same thing; both may have about an equal amount of money 

and prestige - and yet one may be miserable and the other happy. 

Why? Because of a different mental attitude. I have seen just as 

many happy faces among the poor peasants toiling with their 

primitive tools in the devastating heat of the tropics as I have seen in 

air-conditioned offices in New York, Chicago or Los Angeles.

"There is nothing either good or bad," said Shakespeare, "but 

thinking makes it so." 

Abe Lincoln once remarked that "most folks are about as happy as 

they make up their minds to be." He was right. I saw a vivid 

illustration of that truth as I was walking up the stairs of the Long 

Island Railroad station in New York. Directly in front of me thirty or 

forty crippled boys on canes and crutches were struggling up the 

stairs. One boy had to be carried up. I was astonished at their 

laughter and gaiety. I spoke about it to one of.the men in charge of 

the boys. "Oh, yes," he said, "when a boy realizes that he is going to 

be a cripple for life, he is shocked at first; but after he gets over the 

shock, he usually resigns himself to his fate and then becomes as 

happy as normal boys." 

I felt like taking my hat off to those boys. They taught me a lesson I 

hope I shall never forget. 

Working all by oneself in a closed-off room in an office not only is 

lonely, but it denies one the opportunity of making friends with other 

employees in the company. Seсora Maria Gonzalez of Guadalajara, 

Mexico, had such a job. She envied the shared comradeship of other 

people in the company as she heard their chatter and laughter. As 

she passed them in the hall during the first weeks of her 

employment, she shyly looked the other way. 

After a few weeks, she said to herself, "Maria, you can't expect those 

women to come to you. You have to go out and meet them. " The 

next time she walked to the water cooler, she put on her brightest 

smile and said, "Hi, how are you today" to each of the people she 

met. The effect was immediate. Smiles and hellos were returned, the 

hallway seemed brighter, the job friendlier. 

Acquaintanceships developed and some ripened into friendships. Her 

job and her life became more pleasant and interesting. 

Peruse this bit of sage advice from the essayist and publisher Elbert 

Hubbard - but remember, perusing it won't do you any good unless 

you apply it: 

Whenever you go out-of-doors, draw the chin in, carry the crown of 

the head high, and fill the lungs to the utmost; drink in the sunshine; 

greet your friends with a smile, and put soul into every handclasp. 

Do not fear being misunderstood and do not waste a minute thinking 

about your enemies. Try to fix firmly in your mind what you would 

like to do; and then, without veering off direction, you will move 

straight to the goal. Keep your mind on the great and splendid things 

you would like to do, and then, as the days go gliding away, you will 

find yourself unconsciously seizing upon the opportunities that are 

required for the fulfillment of your desire, just as the coral insect

takes from the running tide the element it needs. Picture in your 

mind the able, earnest, useful person you desire to be, and the 

thought you hold is hourly transforming you into that particular 

individual.. . . Thought is supreme. Preserve a right mental attitude - 

the attitude of courage, frankness, and good cheer. To think rightly 

is to create. All things come through desire and every sincere prayer 

is answered. We become like that on which our hearts are fixed. 

Carry your chin in and the crown of your head high. We are gods in 

the chrysalis. 

The ancient Chinese were a wise lot - wise in the ways of the world; 

and they had a proverb that you and I ought to cut out and paste 

inside our hats. It goes like this: "A man without a smiling face must 

not open a shop." 

Your smile is a messenger of your good will. Your smile brightens the 

lives of all who see it. To someone who has seen a dozen people 

frown, scowl or turn their faces away, your smile is like the sun 

breaking through the clouds. Especially when that someone is under 

pressure from his bosses, his customers, his teachers or parents or 

children, a smile can help him realize that all is not hopeless - that 

there is joy in the world. 

Some years ago, a department store in New York City, in recognition 

of the pressures its sales clerks were under during the Christmas 

rush, presented the readers of its advertisements with the following 

homely philosophy: 

The Value Of A Smile At Christmas 

It costs nothing, but creates much. It enriches those who receive, 

without impoverishing those who give. It happens in a flash and the 

memory of it sometimes lasts forever, None are so rich they can get 

along without it, and none so poor but are richer for its benefits. It 

creates happiness in the home, fosters good will in a business, and is 

the countersign of friends. It is rest to the weary, daylight to the 

discouraged, sunshine to the sad, and Nature's best antidote fee 

trouble. Yet it cannot be bought, begged, borrowed, or stolen, for it 

is something that is no earthly good to anybody till it is given away. 

And if in the last-minute rush of Christmas buying some of our 

salespeople should be too tired to give you a smile, may we ask you 

to leave one of yours? For nobody needs a smile so much as those 

who have none left to give! 

• Principle 2 - Smile. 

~~~~~~~ 

3 - If You Don't Do This, You Are Headed For Trouble

Back in 1898, a tragic thing happened in Rockland County, New 

York. A child had died, and on this particular day the neighbors were 

preparing to go to the funeral. 

Jim Farley went out to the barn to hitch up his horse. The ground 

was covered with snow, the air was cold and snappy; the horse 

hadn't been exercised for days; and as he was led out to the 

watering trough, he wheeled playfully, kicked both his heels high in 

the air, and killed Jim Farley. So the little village of Stony Point had 

two funerals that week instead of one. 

Jim Farley left behind him a widow and three boys, and a few 

hundred dollars in insurance. 

His oldest boy, Jim, was ten, and he went to work in a brickyard, 

wheeling sand and pouring it into the molds and turning the brick on 

edge to be dried by the sun. This boy Jim never had a chance to get 

much education. But with his natural geniality, he had a flair for 

making people like him, so he went into politics, and as the years 

went by, he developed an uncanny ability for remembering people's 

names. 

He never saw the inside of a high school; but before he was forty-six 

years of age, four colleges had honored him with degrees and he 

had become chairman of the Democratic National Committee and 

Postmaster General of the United States. 

I once interviewed Jim Farley and asked him the secret of his 

success. He said, "Hard work," and I said, "Don't be funny." 

He then asked me what I thought was the reason for his success. I 

replied: "I understand you can call ten thousand people by their first 

names." 

"No. You are wrong, " he said. "I can call fifty thousand people by 

their first names." 

Make no mistake about it. That ability helped Mr. Farley put Franklin 

D. Roosevelt in the White House when he managed Roosevelt's 

campaign in 1932. 

During the years that Jim Farley traveled as a salesman for a gypsum 

concern, and during the years that he held office as town clerk in 

Stony Point, he built up a system for remembering names. 

In the beginning, it was a very simple one. Whenever he met a new 

acquaintance, he found out his or her complete name and some 

facts about his or her family, business and political opinions. He fixed 

all these facts well in mind as part of the picture, and the next time 

he met that person, even if it was a year later, he was able to shake

hands, inquire after the family, and ask about the hollyhocks in the 

backyard. No wonder he developed a following! 

For months before Roosevelt's campaign for President began, Jim 

Farley wrote hundreds of letters a day to people all over the western 

and northwestern states. Then he hopped onto a train and in 

nineteen days covered twenty states and twelve thousand miles, 

traveling by buggy, train, automobile and boat. He would drop into 

town, meet his people at lunch or breakfast, tea or dinner, and give 

them a "heart-to-heart talk." Then he'd dash off again on another leg 

of his journey. 

As soon as he arrived back East, he wrote to one person in each 

town he had visited, asking for a list of all the guests to whom he 

had talked. The final list contained thousands and thousands of 

names; yet each person on that list was paid the subtle flattery of 

getting a personal letter from James Farley. These letters began 

"Dear Bill" or "Dear Jane," and they were always signed "Jim." 

Jim Farley discovered early in life that the average person is more 

interested in his or her own name than in all the other names on 

earth put together. Remember that name and call it easily, and you 

have paid a subtle and very effective compliment. But forget it or 

misspell it - and you have placed yourself at a sharp disadvantage. 

For example, I once organized a public-speaking course in Paris and 

sent form letters to all the American residents in the city. French 

typists with apparently little knowledge of English filled in the names 

and naturally they made blunders. One man, the manager of a large 

American bank in Paris, wrote me a scathing rebuke because his 

name had been misspelled. 

Sometimes it is difficult to remember a name, particularly if it is hard 

to pronounce. Rather than even try to learn it, many people ignore it 

or call the person by an easy nickname. Sid Levy called on a 

customer for some time whose name was Nicodemus Papadoulos. 

Most people just called him "Nick." Levy told us: "I made a special 

effort to say his name over several times to myself before I made my 

call. When I greeted him by his full name: 'Good afternoon, Mr. 

Nicodemus Papadoulos,' he was shocked. For what seemed like 

several minutes there was no reply from him at all. Finally, he said 

with tears rolling down his cheeks, 'Mr. Levy, in all the fifteen years I 

have been in this country, nobody has ever made the effort to call 

me by my right name.' " 

What was the reason for Andrew Carnegie's success? 

He was called the Steel King; yet he himself knew little about the 

manufacture of steel. He had hundreds of people working for him 

who knew far more about steel than he did.

But he knew how to handle people, and that is what made him rich. 

Early in life, he showed a flair for organization, a genius for 

leadership. By the time he was ten, he too had discovered the 

astounding importance people place on their own name. And he 

used that discovery to win cooperation. To illustrate: When he was a 

boy back in Scotland, he got hold of a rabbit, a mother rabbit. 

Presto! He soon had a whole nest of little rabbits - and nothing to 

feed them. But he had a brilliant idea. He told the boys and girls in 

the neighborhood that if they would go out and pull enough clover 

and dandelions to feed the rabbits, he would name the bunnies in 

their honor. 

The plan worked like magic, and Carnegie never forgot it. 

Years later, he made millions by using the same psychology in 

business. For example, he wanted to sell steel rails to the 

Pennsylvania Railroad. J. Edgar Thomson was the president of the 

Pennsylvania Railroad then. So Andrew Carnegie built a huge steel 

mill in Pittsburgh and called it the "Edgar Thomson Steel Works." 

Here is a riddle. See if you can guess it. When the Pennsylvania 

Railroad needed steel rails, where do you suppose J. Edgar Thomson 

bought them?. . , From Sears, Roebuck? No. No. You're wrong. 

Guess again. When Carnegie and George Pullman were battling each 

other for supremacy in the railroad sleeping-car business, the Steel 

King again remembered the lesson of the rabbits. 

The Central Transportation Company, which Andrew Carnegie 

controlled, was fighting with the company that Pullman owned. Both 

were struggling to get the sleeping-car business of the Union Pacific 

Railroad, bucking each other, slashing prices, and destroving all 

chance of profit. Both Carnegie and Pullman had gone to New York 

to see the board of directors of the Union Pacific. Meeting one 

evening in the St. Nicholas Hotel, Carnegie said: "Good evening, Mr. 

Pullman, aren't we making a couple of fools of ourselves?" 

"What do you mean.?" Pullman demanded. 

Then Carnegie expressed what he had on his mind - a merger of 

their two interests. He pictured in glowing terms the mutual 

advantages of working with, instead of against, each other. Pullman 

listened attentively, but he was not wholly convinced. Finally he 

asked, "What would you call the new company?" and Carnegie 

replied promptly: "Why, the Pullman Palace Car Company, of 

course." 

Pullman's face brightened. "Come into my room," he said. "Let's talk 

it over." That talk made industrial history.

This policy of remembering and honoring the names of his friends 

and business associates was one of the secrets of Andrew Carnegie's 

leadership. He was proud of the fact that he could call many of his 

factory workers by their first names, and he boasted that while he 

was personally in charge, no strike ever disturbed his flaming steel 

mills. 

Benton Love, chairman of Texas Commerce Banc-shares, believes 

that the bigger a corporation gets, the colder it becomes. " One way 

to warm it up," he said, "is to remember people's names. The 

executive who tells me he can't remember names is at the same time 

telling me he can't remember a significant part of his business and is 

operating on quicksand." 

Karen Kirsech of Rancho Palos Verdes, California, a flight attendant 

for TWA, made it a practice to learn the names of as many 

passengers in her cabin as possible and use the name when serving 

them. This resulted in many compliments on her service expressed 

both to her directly and to the airline. One passenger wrote: "I 

haven't flown TWA for some time, but I'm going to start flying 

nothing but TWA from now on. You make me feel that your airline 

has become a very personalized airline and that is important to me." 

People are so proud of their names that they strive to perpetuate 

them at any cost. Even blustering, hard-boiled old P. T. Barnum, the 

greatest showman of his time, disappointed because he had no sons 

to carry on his name, offered his grandson, C. H. Seeley, $25,000 

dollars if he would call himself "Barnum" Seeley. 

For many centuries, nobles and magnates supported artists, 

musicians and authors so that their creative works would be 

dedicated to them. 

Libraries and museums owe their richest collections to people who 

cannot bear to think that their names might perish from the memory 

of the race. The New York Public Library has its Astor and Lenox 

collections. The Metropolitan Museum perpetuates the names of 

Benjamin Altman and J. P. Morgan. And nearly every church is 

beautified by stained-glass windows commemorating the names of 

their donors. Many of the buildings on the campus of most 

universities bear the names of donors who contributed large sums of 

money for this honor. 

Most people don't remember names, for the simple reason that they 

don't take the time and energy necessary to concentrate and repeat 

and fix names indelibly in their minds. They make excuses for 

themselves; they are too busy.

But they were probably no busier than Franklin D. Roosevelt, and he 

took time to remember and recall even the names of mechanics with 

whom he came into contact. 

To illustrate: The Chrysler organization built a special car for Mr. 

Roosevelt, who could not use a standard car because his legs were 

paralyzed. W. F. Chamberlain and a mechanic delivered it to the 

White House. I have in front of me a letter from Mr. Chamberlain 

relating his experiences. "I taught President Roosevelt how to handle 

a car with a lot of unusual gadgets, but he taught me a lot about the 

fine art of handling people. 

"When I called at the White House," Mr. Chamberlain writes, "the 

President was extremely pleasant and cheerful. He called me by 

name, made me feel very comfortable, and particularly impressed 

me with the fact that he was vitally interested in things I had to 

show him and tell him. The car was so designed that it could be 

operated entirely by hand. A crowd gathered around to look at the 

car; and he remarked: 'I think it is marvelous. All you have to do is 

to touch a button and it moves away and you can drive it without 

effort. I think it is grand - I don't know what makes it go. I'd love to 

have the time to tear it down and see how it works.' 

"When Roosevelt's friends and associates admired the machine, he 

said in their presence: 'Mr. Chamberlain, I certainly appreciate all the 

time and effort you have spent in developing this car. It is a mighty 

fine job.' He admired the radiator, the special rear-vision mirror and 

clock, the special spotlight, the kind of upholstery, the sitting position 

of the driver's seat, the special suitcases in the trunk with his 

monogram on each suitcase. In other words, he took notice of every 

detail to which he knew I had given considerable thought. He made 

a point of bringing these various pieces of equipment to the attention 

of Mrs. Roosevelt, Miss Perkins, the Secretary of Labor, and his 

secretary. He even brought the old White House porter into the 

picture by saying, 'George, you want to take particularly good care of 

the suitcases.' 

"When the driving lesson was finished, the President turned to me 

and said: 'Well, Mr. Chamberlain, I have been keeping the Federal 

Reserve Board waiting thirty minutes. I guess I had better get back 

to work.' 

"I took a mechanic with me to the White House. He was introduced 

to Roosevelt when he arrived. He didn't talk to the President, and 

Roosevelt heard his name only once. He was a shy chap, and he 

kept in the background. But before leaving us, the President looked 

for the mechanic, shook his hand, called him by name, and thanked 

him for coming to Washington. And there was nothing perfunctory 

about his thanks. He meant what he said. I could feel that.

"A few days after returning to New York, I got an autographed 

photograph of President Roosevelt and a little note of thanks again 

expressing his appreciation for my assistance. How he found time to 

do it is a mystery to me ." 

Franklin D. Roosevelt knew that one of the simplest, most obvious 

and most important ways of gaining good will was by remembering 

names and making people feel important - yet how many of us do it? 

Half the time we are introduced to a stranger, we chat a few minutes 

and can't even remember his or her name by the time we say 

goodbye. 

One of the first lessons a politician learns is this: "To recall a voter's 

name is statesmanship. To forget it is oblivion." 

And the ability to remember names is almost as important in 

business and social contacts as it is in politics. 

Napoleon the Third, Emperor of France and nephew of the great 

Napoleon, boasted that in spite of all his royal duties he could 

remember the name of every person he met. 

His technique? Simple. If he didn't hear the name distinctly, he said, 

"So sorry. I didn't get the name clearly." Then, if it was an unusual 

name, he would say, "How is it spelled?" 

During the conversation, he took the trouble to repeat the name 

several times, and tried to associate it in his mind with the person's 

features, expression and general appearance. 

If the person was someone of importance, Napoleon went to even 

further pains. As soon as His Royal Highness was alone, he wrote the 

name down on a piece of paper, looked at it, concentrated on it, 

fixed it securely in his mind, and then tore up the paper. In this way, 

he gained an eye impression of the name as well as an ear 

impression. 

All this takes time, but "Good manners," said Emerson, "are made up 

of petty sacrifices." 

The importance of remembering and using names is not just the 

prerogative of kings and corporate executives. It works for all of us. 

Ken Nottingham, an employee of General Motors in Indiana, usually 

had lunch at the company cafeteria. He noticed that the woman who 

worked behind the counter always had a scowl on her face. "She had 

been making sandwiches for about two hours and I was just another 

sandwich to her. I told her what I wanted. She weighed out the ham 

on a little scale, then she gave me one leaf of lettuce, a few potato 

chips and handed them to me.

"The next day I went through the same line. Same woman, same 

scowl. The only difference was I noticed her name tag. I smiled and 

said, 'Hello, Eunice,' and then told her what I wanted. Well, she 

forgot the scale, piled on the ham, gave me three leaves of lettuce 

and heaped on the potato chips until they fell off the plate." 

We should be aware of the magic contained in a name and realize 

that this single item is wholly and completely owned by the person 

with whom we are dealing and nobody else. The name sets the 

individual apart; it makes him or her unique among all others. The 

information we are imparting or the request we are making takes on 

a special importance when we approach the situation with the name 

of the individual. From the waitress to the senior executive, the 

name will work magic as we deal with others. 

• Principle 3 - Remember that a person's name is to that person the 

sweetest and most important sound in any language. 

~~~~~~~ 

4 - An Easy Way To Become A Good Conversationalist 

Some time ago, I attended a bridge party. I don't play bridge - and 

there was a woman there who didn't play bridge either. She had 

discovered that I had once been Lowell Thomas' manager before he 

went on the radio and that I had traveled in Europe a great deal 

while helping him prepare the illustrated travel talks he was then 

delivering. So she said: "Oh, Mr. Carnegie, I do want you to tell me 

about all the wonderful places you have visited and the sights you 

have seen." 

As we sat down on the sofa, she remarked that she and her husband 

had recently returned from a trip to Africa. "Africa!" I exclaimed. 

"How interesting! I've always wanted to see Africa, but I never got 

there except for a twenty-four-hour stay once in Algiers. Tell me, did 

you visit the big-game country? Yes? How fortunate. I envy you. Do 

tell me about Africa." 

That kept her talking for forty-five minutes. She never again asked 

me where I had been or what I had seen. She didn't want to hear 

me talk about my travels. All she wanted was an interested listener, 

so she could expand her ego and tell about where she had been. 

Was she unusual? No. Many people are like that. 

For example, I met a distinguished botanist at a dinner party given 

by a New York book publisher. I had never talked with a botanist 

before, and I found him fascinating. I literally sat on the edge of my 

chair and listened while he spoke of exotic plants and experiments in

developing new forms of plant life and indoor gardens (and even told 

me astonishing facts about the humble potato). I had a small indoor 

garden of my own - and he was good enough to tell me how to solve 

some of my problems. 

As I said, we were at a dinner party. There must have been a dozen 

other guests, but I violated all the canons of courtesy, ignored 

everyone else, and talked for hours to the botanist. 

Midnight came, I said good night to everyone and departed. The 

botanist then turned to our host and paid me several flattering 

compliments. I was "most stimulating." I was this and I was that, 

and he ended by saying I was a "most interesting conversationalist." 

An interesting conversationalist? Why, I had said hardly anything at 

all. I couldn't have said anything if I had wanted to without changing 

the subject, for I didn't know any more about botany than I knew 

about the anatomy of a penguin. But I had done this: I had listened 

intently. I had listened because I was genuinely interested. And he 

felt it. Naturally that pleased him. That kind of listening is one of the 

highest compliments we can pay anyone. "Few human beings," 

wrote Jack Woodford in Strangers in Love, "few human beings are 

proof against the implied flattery of rapt attention." I went even 

further than giving him rapt attention. I was "hearty in my 

approbation and lavish in my praise." 

I told him that I had been immensely entertained and instructed - 

and I had. I told him I wished I had his knoledge - and I did. I told 

him that I should love to wander the fields with him - and I have. I 

told him I must see him again - and I did. 

And so I had him thinking of me as a good conversationalist when, in 

reality, I had been merely a good listener and had encouraged him 

to talk. 

What is the secret, the mystery, of a successful business interview? 

Well, according to former Harvard president Charles W. Eliot, "There 

is no mystery about successful business intercourse. ... Exclusive 

attention to the person who is speaking to you is very important. 

Nothing else is so flattering as that." 

Eliot himself was a past master of the art of listening, Henry James, 

one of America's first great novelists, recalled: "Dr. Eliot's listening 

was not mere silence, but a form of activity. Sitting very erect on the 

end of his spine with hands joined in his lap, making no movement 

except that he revolved his thumbs around each other faster or 

slower, he faced his interlocutor and seemed to be hearing with his 

eyes as well as his ears. He listened with his mind and attentively 

considered what you had to say while you said it. ... At the end of an

interview the person who had talked to him felt that he had had his 

say." 

Self-evident, isn't it? You don't have to study for four years in 

Harvard to discover that. Yet I know and you know department store 

owners who will rent expensive space, buy their goods economically, 

dress their windows appealingly, spend thousands of dollars in 

advertising and then hire clerks who haven't the sense to be good 

listeners - clerks who interrupt customers, contradict them, irritate 

them, and all but drive them from the store. 

A department store in Chicago almost lost a regular customer who 

spent several thousand dollars each year in that store because a 

sales clerk wouldn't listen. Mrs. Henrietta Douglas, who took our 

course in Chicago, had purchased a coat at a special sale. After she 

had brought it home she noticed that there was a tear in the lining. 

She came back the next day and asked the sales clerk to exchange 

it. The clerk refused even to listen to her complaint. "You bought this 

at a special sale," she said. She pointed to a sign on the wall. "Read 

that," she exclaimed. " 'All sales are final.' Once you bought it, you 

have to keep it. Sew up the lining yourself." 

"But this was damaged merchandise," Mrs. Douglas complained. 

"Makes no difference," the clerk interrupted. "Final's final " 

Mrs. Douglas was about to walk out indignantly, swearing never to 

return to that store ever, when she was greeted by the department 

manager, who knew her from her many years of patronage. Mrs. 

Douglas told her what had happened. 

The manager listened attentively to the whole story, examined the 

coat and then said: "Special sales are 'final' so we can dispose of 

merchandise at the end of the season. But this 'no return' policy 

does not apply to damaged goods. We will certainly repair or replace 

the lining, or if you prefer, give you your money back." 

What a difference in treatment! If that manager had not come along 

and listened to the Customer, a long-term patron of that store could 

have been lost forever. 

Listening is just as important in one's home life as in the world of 

business. Millie Esposito of Croton-on-Hudson, New York, made it her 

business to listen carefully when one of her children wanted to speak 

with her. One evening she was sitting in the kitchen with her son, 

Robert, and after a brief discussion of something that was on his 

mind, Robert said: "Mom, I know that you love me very much." 

Mrs. Esposito was touched and said: "Of course I love you very 

much. Did you doubt it?"

Robert responded: "No, but I really know you love me because 

whenever I want to talk to you about something you stop whatever 

you are doing and listen to me." 

The chronic kicker, even the most violent critic, will frequently soften 

and be subdued in the presence of a patient, sympathetic listener - a 

listener who will he silent while the irate fault-finder dilates like a 

king cobra and spews the poison out of his system. To illustrate: The 

New York Telephone Company discovered a few years ago that it 

had to deal with one of the most vicious customers who ever cursed 

a customer service representative. And he did curse. He raved. He 

threatened to tear the phone out by its roots. He refused to pay 

certain charges that he declared were false. He wrote letters to the 

newspapers. He filed innumerable complaints with the Public Service 

Commission, and he started several suits against the telephone 

company. 

At last, one of the company's most skillful "trouble-shooters" was 

sent to interview this stormy petrel. This "troubleshooter" listened 

and let the cantankerous customer enjoy himself pouring out his 

tirade. The telephone representative listened and said "yes" and 

sympathized with his grievance. 

"He raved on and I listened for nearlv three hours," the 

"troubleshooter" said as he related his experiences before one of the 

author's classes. "Then I went back and listened some more. I 

interviewed him four times, and before the fourth visit was over I 

had become a charter member of an organization he was starting. 

He called it the 'Telephone Subscribers' Protective Association.' I am 

still a member of this organization, and, so far as I know, I'm the 

only member in the world today besides Mr. ----. 

"I listened and sympathized with him on every point that he made 

during these interviews. He had never had a telephone 

representative talk with him that way before, and he became almost 

friendly. The point on which I went to see him was not even 

mentioned on the first visit, nor was it mentioned on the second or 

third, but upon the fourth interview, I closed the case completely, he 

paid all his bills in full, and for the first time in the history of his 

difficulties with the telephone company he voluntarily withdrew his 

complaints from the Public Service Commission." 

Doubtless Mr. ----- had considered himself a holy crusader, 

defending the public rights against callous exploitation. But in reality, 

what he had really wanted was a feeling of importance. He got this 

feeling of importance at first by kicking and complaining. But as soon 

as he got his feeling of importance from a representative of the 

company, his imagined grievances vanished into thin air.

One morning years ago, an angry customer stormed into the office 

of Julian F. Detmer, founder of the Detmer Woolen Company, which 

later became the world's largest distributor of woolens to the 

tailoring trade. 

"This man owed us a small sum of money," Mr. Detmer explained to 

me. "The customer denied it, but we knew he was wrong. So our 

credit department had insisted that he pay. After getting a number of 

letters from our credit department, he packed his grip, made a trip to 

Chicago, and hurried into my office to inform me not only that he 

was not going to pay that bill, but that he was never going to buy 

another dollar's worth of goods from the Detmer Woolen Company. 

"I listened patiently to all he had to say. I was tempted to interrupt, 

but I realized that would be bad policy, So I let him talk himself out. 

When he finally simmered down and got in a receptive mood, I said 

quietly: 'I want to thank vou for coming to Chicago to tell me about 

this. You have done me a great favor, for if our credit department 

has annoyed you, it may annoy other good customers, and that 

would be just too bad. Believe me, I am far more eager to hear this 

than you are to tell it.' 

"That was the last thing in the world he expected me to say. I think 

he was a trifle disappointed, because he had come to Chicago to tell 

me a thing or two, but here I was thanking him instead of scrapping 

with him. I assured him we would wipe the charge off the books and 

forget it, because he was a very careful man with only one account 

to look after, while our clerks had to look after thousands. Therefore, 

he was less likely to be wrong than we were. 

"I told him that I understood exactly how he felt and that, if I were 

in his shoes, I should undoubtedly feel precisely as he did. Since he 

wasn't going to buy from us anymore, I recommended some other 

woolen houses. 

"In the past, we had usually lunched together when he came to 

Chicago, so I invited him to have lunch with me this day. He 

accepted reluctantly, but when we came back to the office he placed 

a larger order than ever before. He returned home in a softened 

mood and, wanting to be just as fair with us as we had been with 

him, looked over his bills, found one that had been mislaid, and sent 

us a check with his apologies. 

"Later, when his wife presented him with a baby boy, he gave his 

son the middle name of Detmer, and he remained a friend and 

customer of the house until his death twenty-two years afterwards." 

Years ago, a poor Dutch immigrant boy washed the windows of a 

bakery shop after school to help support his family. His people were 

so poor that in addition he used to go out in the street with a basket

every day and collect stray bits of coal that had fallen in the gutter 

where the coal wagons had delivered fuel. That boy, Edward Bok, 

never got more than six years of schooling in his life; yet eventually 

he made himself one of the most successful magazine editors in the 

history of American journalism. How did he do it? That is a long 

story, but how he got his start can be told briefly. He got his start by 

using the principles advocated in this chapter. 

He left school when he was thirteen and became an office boy for 

Western Union, but he didn't for one moment give up the idea of an 

education. Instead, he started to educate himself, He saved his 

carfares and went without lunch until he had enough money to buy 

an encyclopedia of American biography - and then he did an 

unheard-of thing. He read the lives of famous people and wrote 

them asking for additional information about their childhoods. He 

was a good listener. He asked famous people to tell him more about 

themselves. He wrote General James A. Garfield, who was then 

running for President, and asked if it was true that he was once a 

tow boy on a canal; and Garfield replied. He wrote General Grant 

asking about a certain battle, and Grant drew a map for him and 

invited this fourteen-year old boy to dinner and spent the evening 

talking to him. 

Soon our Western Union messenger boy was corresponding with 

many of the most famous people in the nation: Ralph Waldo 

Emerson, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Longfellow, Mrs. Abraham Lincoln, 

Louisa May Alcott, General Sherman and Jefferson Davis. Not only 

did he correspond with these distinguished people, but as soon as he 

got a vacation, he visited many of them as a welcome guest in their 

homes. This experience imbued him with a confidence that was 

invaluable. These men and women fired him with a vision and 

ambition that shaped his life. And all this, let me repeat, was made 

possible solely by the application of the principles we are discussing 

here. 

Isaac F. Marcosson, a journalist who interviewed hundreds of 

celebrities, declared that many people fail to make a favorable 

impression because they don't listen attentively. "They have been so 

much concerned with what they are going to say next that they do 

not keep their ears open. ... Very important people have told me that 

they prefer good listeners to good talkers, but the ability to listen 

seems rarer than almost any other good trait ." 

And not only important personages crave a good listener, but 

ordinary folk do too. As the Reader's Digest once said: "Many 

persons call a doctor when all they want is an audience," 

During the darkest hours of the Civil War, Lincoln wrote to an old 

friend in Springfield, Illinois, asking him to come to Washington. 

Lincoln said he had some problems he wanted to discuss with him.

The old neighbor called at the White House, and Lincoln talked to 

him for hours about the advisability of issuing a proclamation freeing 

the slaves. Lincoln went over all the arguments for and against such 

a move, and then read letters and newspaper articles, some 

denouncing him for not freeing the slaves and others denouncing 

him for fear he was going to free them. After talking for hours, 

Lincoln shook hands with his old neighbor, said good night, and sent 

him back to Illinois without even asking for his opinion. Lincoln had 

done all the talking himself. That seemed to clarify his mind. "He 

seemed to feel easier after that talk," the old friend said. Lincoln 

hadn't wanted advice, He had wanted merely a friendly, sympathetic 

listener to whom he could unburden himself. That's what we all want 

when we are in trouble. That is frequently all the irritated customer 

wants, and the dissatisfied employee or the hurt friend. 

One of the great listeners of modern times was Sigmund Freud. A 

man who met Freud described his manner of listening: "It struck me 

so forcibly that I shall never forget him. He had qualities which I had 

never seen in any other man. Never had I seen such concentrated 

attention. There was none of that piercing 'soul penetrating gaze' 

business. His eyes were mild and genial. His voice was low and kind. 

His gestures were few. But the attention he gave me, his 

appreciation of what I said, even when I said it badly, was 

extraordinary, You've no idea what it meant to be listened to like 

that." 

If you want to know how to make people shun you and laugh at you 

behind your back and even despise you, here is the recipe: Never 

listen to anyone for long. Talk incessantly about yourself. If you have 

an idea while the other person is talking, don't wait for him or her to 

finish: bust right in and interrupt in the middle of a sentence. 

Do you know people like that? I do, unfortunately; and the 

astonishing part of it is that some of them are prominent. 

Bores, that is all they are - bores intoxicated with their own egos, 

drunk with a sense of their own importance. 

People who talk only of themselves think only of themselves. And 

"those people who think only of themselves," Dr. Nicholas Murray 

Butler, longtime president of Columbia University, said, "are 

hopelessly uneducated. They are not educated," said Dr. Butler, "no 

matter how instructed they may be." 

So if you aspire to be a good conversationalist, be an attentive 

listener. To be interesting, be interested. Ask questions that other 

persons will enjoy answering. Encourage them to talk about 

themselves and their accomplishments.

Remember that the people you are talking to are a hundred times 

more interested in themselves and their wants and problems than 

they are in you and your problems. A person's toothache means 

more to that person than a famine in China which kills a million 

people. A boil on one's neck interests one more than forty 

earthquakes in Africa. Think of that the next time you start a 

conversation. 

• Principle 4 - Be a good listener. Encourage others to talk about 

themselves. 

~~~~~~~ 

5 - How To Interest People 

Everyone who was ever a guest of Theodore Roosevelt was 

astonished at the range and diversity of his knowledge. Whether his 

visitor was a cowboy or a Rough Rider, a New York politician or a 

diplomat, Roosevelt knew what to say. And how was it done? The 

answer was simple. Whenever Roosevelt expected a visitor, he sat 

up late the night before, reading up on the subject in which he knew 

his guest was particularly interested. 

For Roosevelt knew, as all leaders know, that the royal road to a 

person's heart is to talk about the things he or she treasures most. 

The genial William Lyon Phelps, essayist and professor of literature 

at Yale, learned this lesson early in life. 

"When I was eight years old and was spending a weekend visiting 

my Aunt Libby Linsley at her home in Stratford on the Housatonic," 

he wrote in his essay on Human Nature, "a middle-aged man called 

one evening, and after a polite skirmish with my aunt, he devoted his 

attention to me. At that time, I happened to be excited about boats, 

and the visitor discussed the subject in a way that seemed to me 

particularly interesting. After he left, I spoke of him with enthusiasm. 

What a man! My aunt informed me he was a New York lawyer, that 

he cared nothing whatever about boats - that he took not the 

slightest interest in the subject. 'But why then did he talk all the time 

about boats?' 

" 'Because he is a gentleman. He saw you were interested in boats, 

and he talked about the things he knew would interest and please 

you. He made himself agreeable.' " 

And William Lyon Phelps added: "I never forgot my aunt's remark." 

As I write this chapter, I have before me a letter from Edward L. 

Chalif, who was active in Boy Scout work.

"One day I found I needed a favor," wrote Mr. Chalif. "A big Scout 

jamboree was coming off in Europe, and I wanted the president of 

one of the largest corporations in America to pay the expenses of 

one of my boys for the trip. 

"Fortunately, just before I went to see this man, I heard that he had 

drawn a check for a million dollars, and that after it was canceled, he 

had had it framed. 

"So the first thing I did when I entered his office was to ask to see 

the check. A check for a million dollars! I told him I never knew that 

anybody had ever written such a check, and that I wanted to tell my 

boys that I had actually seen a check for a million dollars. He gladly 

showed it to me; I admired it and asked him to tell me all about how 

it happened to be drawn." 

You notice, don't you, that Mr. Chalif didn't begin by talking about 

the Boy Scouts, or the jamboree in Europe, or what it was he 

wanted? He talked in terms of what interested the other man. Here's 

the result: 

"Presently, the man I was interviewing said: 'Oh, by the way, what 

was it you wanted to see me about?' So I told him. 

"To my vast surprise," Mr. Chalif continues, "he not only granted 

immediately what I asked for, but much more. I had asked him to 

send only one boy to Europe, but he sent five boys and myself, gave 

me a letter of credit for a thousand dollars and told us to stay in 

Europe for seven weeks. He also gave me letters of introduction to 

his branch presidents, putting them at our service, and he himself 

met us in Paris and showed us the town. 

Since then, he has given jobs to some of the boys whose parents 

were in want, and he is still active in our group. 

"Yet I know if I hadn't found out what he was interested in, and got 

him warmed up first, I wouldn't have found him one-tenth as easy to 

approach." 

Is this a valuable technique to use in business? Is it? Let's see, Take 

Henry G. Duvernoy of Duvemoy and Sons, a wholesale baking firm in 

New York. 

Mr. Duvernoy had been trying to sell bread to a certain New York 

hotel. He had called on the manager every week for four years. He 

went to the same social affairs the manager attended. He even took 

rooms in the hotel and lived there in order to get the business. But 

he failed.

"Then," said Mr. Duvernoy, "after studying human relations, I 

resolved to change my tactics. I decided to find out what interested 

this man - what caught his enthusiasm. 

"I discovered he belonged to a society of hotel executives called the 

Hotel Greeters of America. He not only belonged, but his bubbling 

enthusiasm had made him president of the organization, and 

president of the International Greeters. No matter where its 

conventions were held, he would be there. 

"So when I saw him the next day, I began talking about the 

Greeters. What a response I got. What a response! He talked to me 

for half an hour about the Greeters, his tones vibrant with 

enthusiasm. I could plainly see that this society was not only his 

hobby, it was the passion of his life. Before I left his office, he had 

'sold' me a membership in his organization. 

"In the meantime, I had said nothing about bread. But a few days 

later, the steward of his hotel phoned me to come over with samples 

and prices. 

" 'I don't know what you did to the old boy,' the steward greeted me, 

'but he sure is sold on you!' 

"Think of it! I had been drumming at that man for four years - trying 

to get his business - and I'd still be drumming at him if I hadn't 

finally taken the trouble to find out what he was interested in, and 

what he enjoyed talking about." 

Edward E. Harriman of Hagerstown, Maryland, chose to live in the 

beautiful Cumberland Valley of Maryland after he completed his 

military service. Unfortunately, at that time there were few jobs 

available in the area. A little research uncovered the fact that a 

number of companies in the area were either owned or controlled by 

an unusual business maverick, R. J. Funkhouser, whose rise from 

poverty to riches intrigued Mr. Harriman. However, he was known for 

being inaccessible to job seekers. Mr. Harriman wrote: 

"I interviewed a number of people and found that his major interest 

was anchored in his drive for power and money. Since he protected 

himself from people like me by use of a dedicated and stern 

secretary, I studied her interests and goals and only then I paid an 

unannounced visit at her office. She had been Mr. Funkhouser's 

orbiting satellite for about fifteen years. When I told her I had a 

proposition for him which might translate itself into financial and 

political success for him, she became enthused. I also conversed 

with her about her constructive participation in his success. After this 

conversation she arranged for me to meet Mr. Funkhouser.

"I entered his huge and impressive office determined not to ask 

directly for a job. He was seated behind a large carved desk and 

thundered at me, 'How about it, young man?' I said, 'Mr. 

Funkhouser, I believe I can make money for you.' He immediately 

rose and invited me to sit in one of the large upholstered chairs. I 

enumerated my ideas and the qualifications I had to realize these 

ideas, as well as how they would contribute to his personal success 

and that of his businesses. 

" 'R. J.,' as he became known to me, hired me at once and for over 

twenty years I have grown in his enterprises and we both have 

prospered." 

Talking in terms of the other person's interests pays off for both 

parties. Howard Z. Herzig, a leader in the field of employee 

communications, has always followed this principle. When asked 

what reward he got from it, Mr. Herzig responded that he not only 

received a different reward from each person but that in general the 

reward had been an enlargement of his life each time he spoke to 

someone. 

• Principle 5 - Talk in terms of the other person's interests. 

~~~~~~~ 

6 - How To Make People Like You Instantly 

I was waiting in line to register a letter in the post office at Thirtythird 

Street and Eighth Avenue in New York. I noticed that the clerk 

appeared to be bored with the job -weighing envelopes, handing out 

stamps, making change, issuing receipts - the same monotonous 

grind year after year. So I said to myself: "I am going to try to make 

that clerk like me. Obviously, to make him like me, I must say 

something nice, not about myself, but about him. So I asked myself, 

'What is there about him that I can honestly admire?' " That is 

sometimes a hard question to answer, especially with strangers; but, 

in this case, it happened to be easy. I instantly saw something I 

admired no end. 

So while he was weighing my envelope, I remarked with enthusiasm: 

"I certainly wish I had your head of hair." 

He looked up, half-startled, his face beaming with smiles. "Well, it 

isn't as good as it used to be," he said modestly. I assured him that 

although it might have lost some of its pristine glory, nevertheless it 

was still magnificent. He was immensely pleased. We carried on a 

pleasant little conversation and the last thing he said to me was: 

"Many people have admired my hair."

I'll bet that person went out to lunch that day walking on air. I'll bet 

he went home that night and told his wife about it. I'll bet he looked 

in the mirror and said: "It is a beautiful head of hair." 

I told this story once in public and a man asked me afterwards: 

"'What did you want to get out of him?" 

What was I trying to get out of him!!! What was I trying to get out of 

him!!! 

If we are so contemptibly selfish that we can't radiate a little 

happiness and pass on a bit of honest appreciation without trying to 

get something out of the other person in return - if our souls are no 

bigger than sour crab apples, we shall meet with the failure we so 

richly deserve. Oh yes, I did want something out of that chap. I 

wanted something priceless. And I got it. I got the feeling that I had 

done something for him without his being able to do anything 

whatever in return for me. That is a feeling that flows and sings in 

your memory lung after the incident is past. 

There is one all-important law of human conduct. If we obey that 

law, we shall almost never get into trouble. In fact, that law, if 

obeyed, will bring us countless friends and constant happiness. But 

the very instant we break the law, we shall get into endless trouble. 

The law is this: Always make the other person feel important. John 

Dewey, as we have already noted, said that the desire to be 

important is the deepest urge in human nature; and William James 

said: "The deepest principle in human nature is the craving to be 

appreciated." As I have already pointed out, it is this urge that 

differentiates us from the animals. It is this urge that has been 

responsible for civilization itself. 

Philosophers have been speculating on the rules of human 

relationships for thousands of years, and out of all that speculation, 

there has evolved only one important precept. It is not new. It is as 

old as history. Zoroaster taught it to his followers in Persia twentyfive 

hundred years ago. Confucius preached it in China twenty-four 

centuries ago. Lao-tse, the founder of Taoism, taught it to his 

disciples in the Valley of the Han. Buddha preached it on the bank of 

the Holy Ganges five hundred years before Christ. The sacred books 

of Hinduism taught it a thousand years before that. Jesus taught it 

among the stony hills of Judea nineteen centuries ago. Jesus 

summed it up in one thought -probably the most important rule in 

the world: "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you." 

You want the approval of those with whom you come in contact. You 

want recognition of your true worth. You want a feeling that you are 

important in your little world. You don't want to listen to cheap, 

insincere flattery, but you do crave sincere appreciation. You want

your friends and associates to be, as Charles Schwab put it, "hearty 

in their approbation and lavish in their praise." All of us want that. 

So let's obey the Golden Rule, and give unto others what we would 

have others give unto us, How? When? Where? The answer is: All 

the time, everywhere. 

David G. Smith of Eau Claire, Wisconsin, told one of our classes how 

he handled a delicate situation when he was asked to take charge of 

the refreshment booth at a charity concert, 

"The night of the concert I arrived at the park and found two elderly 

ladies in a very bad humor standing next to the refreshment stand. 

Apparently each thought that she was in charge of this project. As I 

stood there pondering what to do, me of the members of the 

sponsoring committee appeared and handed me a cash box and 

thanked me for taking over the project. She introduced Rose and 

Jane as my helpers and then ran off. 

"A great silence ensued. Realizing that the cash box was a symbol of 

authority (of sorts), I gave the box to Rose and explained that I 

might not be able to keep the money straight and that if she took 

care of it I would feel better. I then suggested to Jane that she show 

two teenagers who had been assigned to refreshments how to 

operate the soda machine, and I asked her to be responsible for that 

part of the project. 

"The evening was very enjoyable with Rose happily counting the 

money, Jane supervising the teenagers, and me enjoying the 

concert." 

You don't have to wait until you are ambassador to France or 

chairman of the Clambake Committee of your lodge before you use 

this philosophy of appreciation. You can work magic with it almost 

every day. 

If, for example, the waitress brings us mashed potatoes when we 

have ordered French fried, let's say: "I'm sorry to trouble you, but I 

prefer French fried." She'll probably reply, "No trouble at all" and will 

be glad to change the potatoes, because we have shown respect for 

her. 

Little phrases such as "I'm sorry to trouble you," "Would you be so 

kind as to ----? " "Won't you please?" " Would you mind?" "Thank 

you" - little courtesies like these oil the cogs of the monotonous 

grind of everyday life- and, incidentally, they are the hallmark of 

good breeding. 

Let's take another illustration. Hall Caine's novels-The Christian, The 

Deemster, The Manxman, among them - were all best-sellers in the

early part of this century. Millions of people read his novels, 

countless millions. He was the son of a blacksmith. He never had 

more than eight years' schooling in his life; yet when he died he was 

the richest literary man of his time. 

The story goes like this: Hall Caine loved sonnets and ballads; so he 

devoured all of Dante Gabriel Rossetti's poetry. He even wrote a 

lecture chanting the praises of Rossetti's artistic achievement-and 

sent a copy to Rossetti himself. Rossetti was delighted. "Any young 

man who has such an exalted opinion of my ability," Rossetti 

probably said to himself, "must be brilliant," So Rossetti invited this 

blacksmith's son to come to London and act as his secretary. That 

was the turning point in Hall Caine's life; for, in his new position, he 

met the literary artists of the day. Profiting by their advice and 

inspired by their encouragement, he launched upon a career that 

emblazoned his name across the sky. 

His home, Greeba Castle, on the Isle of Man, became a Mecca for 

tourists from the far corners of the world, and he left a multimillion 

dollar estate. Yet - who knows - he might have died poor and 

unknown had he not written an essay expressing his admiration for a 

famous man. 

Such is the power, the stupendous power, of sincere, heartfelt 

appreciation. 

Rossetti considered himself important. That is not strange, Almost 

everyone considers himself important, very important. 

The life of many a person could probably be changed if only 

someone would make him feel important. Ronald J. Rowland, who is 

one of the instructors of our course in California, is also a teacher of 

arts and crafts. He wrote to us about a student named Chris in his 

beginning crafts class: 

Chris was a very quiet, shy boy lacking in self-confidence, the kind of 

student that often does not receive the attention he deserves. I also 

teach an advanced class that had grown to be somewhat of a status 

symbol and a privilege for a student to have earned the right to be in 

it. On Wednesday, Chris was diligently working at his desk. I really 

felt there was a hidden fire deep inside him. I asked Chris if he 

would like to be in the advanced class. How I wish I could express 

the look in Chris's face, the emotions in that shy fourteen-year-old 

boy, trying to hold back his tears. 

"Who me, Mr. Rowland? Am I good enough?" 

"Yes, Chris, you are good enough."

I had to leave at that point because tears were coming to my eyes. 

As Chris walked out of class that day, seemingly two inches taller, he 

looked at me with bright blue eyes and said in a positive voice, 

"Thank you, Mr. Rowland." 

Chris taught me a lesson I will never forget-our deep desire to feel 

important. To help me never forget this rule, I made a sign which 

reads "YOU ARE IMPORTANT." This sign hangs in the front of the 

classroom for all to see and to remind me that each student I face is 

equally important. 

The unvarnished truth is that almost all the people you meet feel 

themselves superior to you in some way, and a sure way to their 

hearts is to let them realize in some subtle way that you recognize 

their importance, and recognize it sincerely. 

Remember what Emerson said: "Every man I meet is my superior in 

some way. In that, I learn of him." 

And the pathetic part of it is that frequently those who have the least 

justification for a feeling of achievement bolster up their egos by a 

show of tumult and conceit which is truly nauseating. As 

Shakespeare put it: "... man, proud man,/Drest in a little brief 

authority,/ ... Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven/As make 

the angels weep." 

I am going to tell you how business people in my own courses have 

applied these principles with remarkable results. Let's take the case 

of a Connecticut attorney (because of his relatives he prefers not to 

have his name mentioned). 

Shortly after joining the course, Mr. R----- drove to Long Island with 

his wife to visit some of her relatives. She left him to chat with an old 

aunt of hers and ther rushed off by herself to visit some of the 

younger relatives. Since he soon had to give a speech professionally 

on how he applied the principles of appreciation, he thought he 

would gain some worthwhile experience talking with the-elderly lady. 

So he looked around the house to see what he could honestly 

admire. 

"This house was built about 1890, wasn't it?" he inquired. 

"Yes," she replied, "that is precisely the year it was built." 

"It reminds me of the house I was born in," he said. "It's beautiful. 

Well built. Roomy. You know, they don't build houses like this 

anymore."

"You're right," the old lady agreed. "The young folks nowadays don't 

care for beautiful homes. All they want is a small apartment, and 

then they go off gadding about in their automobiles. 

"This is a dream house," she said in a voice vibrating with tender 

memories. "This house was built with love. My husband and I 

dreamed about it for years before we built it. We didn't have an 

architect. We planned it all ourselves." 

She showed Mr. R----- about the house, and he expressed his hearty 

admiration for the beautiful treasures she had picked up in her 

travels and cherished over a lifetime - paisley shawls, an old English 

tea set, Wedgwood china, French beds and chairs, Italian paintings, 

and silk draperies that had once hung in a French chateau. 

After showing Mr. R----- through the house, she took him out to the 

garage. There, jacked up on blocks, was a Packard car - in mint 

condition. 

"My husband bought that car for me shortly before he passed on," 

she said softly. "I have never ridden in it since his death. ... You 

appreciate nice things, and I'm going to give this car to you." 

"Why, aunty," he said, "you overwhelm me. I appreciate your 

generosity, of course; but I couldn't possibly accept it. I'm not even 

a relative of yours. I have a new car, and you have many relatives 

that would like to have that Packard." 

"Relatives!" she exclaimed. "Yes, I have relatives who are just 

waiting till I die so they can get that car. But they are not going to 

get it." 

"If you don't want to give it to them, you can very easily sell it to a 

secondhand dealer," he told her. 

"Sell it!" she cried. "Do you think I would sell this car? Do you think I 

could stand to see strangers riding up and down the street in that 

car - that car that my husband bought for me? I wouldn't dream of 

selling it. I'm going to give it to you. You appreciate beautiful 

things." 

He tried to get out of accepting the car, but he couldn't without 

hurting her feelings. 

This lady, left all alone in a big house with her paisley shawls, her 

French antiques, and her memories, was starving for a little 

recognition, She had once been young and beautiful and sought 

after She had once built a house warm with love and had collected 

things from all over Europe to make it beautiful. Now, in the isolated 

loneliness of old age, she craved a little human warmth, a little

genuine appreciation - and no one gave it to her. And when she 

found it, like a spring in the desert, her gratitude couldn't adequately 

express itself with anything less than the gift of her cherished 

Packard. 

Let's take another case: Donald M. McMahon, who was 

superintendent of Lewis and Valentine, nurserymen and landscape 

architects in Rye, New York, related this incident: 

"Shortly after I attended the talk on 'How to Win Friends and 

Influence People,' I was landscaping the estate of a famous attorney. 

The owner came out to give me a few instructions about where he 

wished to plant a mass of rhododendrons and azaleas. 

"I said, 'Judge, you have a lovely hobby. I've been admiring your 

beautiful dogs. I understand you win a lot of blue ribbons every year 

at the show in Madison Square Garden.' 

"The effect of this little expression of appreciation was striking. 

" 'Yes,' the judge replied, 'I do have a lot of fun with my dogs. Would 

you like to see my kennel?' 

"He spent almost an hour showing me his dogs and the prizes they 

had won. He even brought out their pedigrees and explained about 

the bloodlines responsible for such beauty and intelligence. 

"Finally, turning to me, he asked: 'Do you have any small children?' 

" 'Yes, I do,' I replied, 'I have a son.' 

" 'Well, wouldn't he like a puppy?' the judge inquired. 

" 'Oh, yes, he'd be tickled pink.' 

" 'All right, I'm going to give him one,' the . judge announced. 

He started to tell me how to feed the puppy. Then he paused. 'You'll 

forget it if I tell you. I'll write it out.' So the judge went in the house, 

typed out the pedigree and feeding instructions, and gave me a 

puppy worth several hundred dollars and one hour and fifteen 

minutes of his valuable time largely because I had expressed my 

honest admiration for his hobby and achievements." 

George Eastman, of Kodak fame, invented the transparent film that 

made motion pictures possible, amassed a fortune of a hundred 

million dollars, and made himself one of the most famous 

businessmen on earth. Yet in spite of all these tremendous 

accomplishments, he craved little recognitions even as you and I.

To illustrate: When Eastman was building the Eastman School of 

Music and also Kilbourn Hall in Rochester, James Adamson, then 

president of the Superior Seating Company of New York, wanted to 

get the order to supply the theater chairs for these buildings. 

Phoning the architect, Mr. Adamson made an appointment to see Mr. 

Eastman in Rochester. 

When Adamson arrived, the architect said: "I know you want to get 

this order, but I can tell you right now that you won't stand a ghost 

of a show if you take more than five minutes of George Eastman's 

time. He is a strict disciplinarian. He is very busy. So tell your story 

quickly and get out." 

Adamson was prepared to do just that. 

When he was ushered into the room he saw Mr. Eastman bending 

over a pile of papers at his desk. Presently, Mr. Eastman looked up, 

removed his glasses, and walked toward the architect and Mr. 

Adamson, saying: "Good morning, gentlemen, what can I do for 

you?" 

The architect introduced them, and then Mr. Adamson said: "While 

we've been waiting for you, Mr. Eastman, I've been admiring your 

office. I wouldn't mind working in a room like this myself. I'm in the 

interior-woodworking business, and I never saw a more beautiful 

office in all my life." 

George Eastman replied: "You remind me of something I had almost 

forgotten. It is beautiful, isn't it? I enjoyed it a great deal when it 

was first built. But I come down here now with a lot of other things 

on my mind and sometimes don't even see the room for weeks at a 

time ." 

Adamson walked over and rubbed his hand across a panel. "This is 

English oak, isn't it? A little different texture from Italian oak." 

"Yes," Eastman replied. "Imported English oak. It was selected for 

me by a friend who specializes in fine woods ." 

Then Eastman showed him about the room, commenting on the 

proportions, the coloring, the hand carving and other effects he had 

helped to plan and execute. 

While drifting about the room, admiring the wood-work, they paused 

before a window, and George Eastman, in his modest, soft-spoken 

way, pointed out some of the institutions through which he was 

trying to help humanity: the University of Rochester, the General 

Hospital, the Homeopathic Hospital, the Friendly Home, the 

Children's Hospital. Mr. Adamson congratulated him warmly on the 

idealistic way he was using his wealth to alleviate the sufferings of

humanity. Presently, George Eastman unlocked a glass case and 

pulled out the first camera he had ever owned - an invention he had 

bought from an Englishman. 

Adamson questioned him at length about his early struggles to get 

started in business, and Mr. Eastman spoke with real feeling about 

the poverty of his childhood, telling how his widowed mother had 

kept a boardinghouse while he clerked in an insurance office. The 

terror of poverty haunted him day and night, and he resolved to 

make enough money so that his mother wouldn't have to work, Mr. 

Adamson drew him out with further questions and listened, 

absorbed, while he related the story of his experiments with dry 

photographic plates. He told how he had worked in an office all day, 

and sometimes experimented all night, taking only brief naps while 

the chemicals were working, sometimes working and sleeping in his 

clothes for seventy-two hours at a stretch. 

James Adamson had been ushered into Eastman's office at tenfifteen 

and had been warned that he must not take more than five 

minutes; but an hour had passed, then two hours passed. And they 

were still talking. Finally, George Eastman turned to Adamson and 

said, "The last time I was in Japan I bought some chairs, brought 

them home, and put them in my sun porch. But the sun peeled the 

paint, so I went downtown the other day and bought some paint and 

painted the chairs myself. Would you like to see what sort of a job I 

can do painting chairs? All right. Come up to my home and have 

lunch with me and I'll show you." 

After lunch, Mr. Eastman showed Adamson the chairs he had 

brought from Japan. They weren't worth more than a few dollars, 

but George Eastman, now a multimillionaire, was proud of them 

because he himself had painted them. 

The order for the seats amounted to $90,000. Who do you suppose 

got the order - James Adamson or one of his competitors? 

From the time of this story until Mr. Eastman's death, he and James 

Adamson were close friends. 

Claude Marais, a restaurant owner in Rouen, France, used this 

principle and saved his restaurant the loss of a key employee. This 

woman had been in his employ for five years and was a vital link 

between M. Marais and his staff of twenty-one people. He was 

shocked to receive a registered letter from her advising him of her 

resignation. 

M. Marais reported: "I was very surprised and, even more, 

disappointed, because I was under the impression that I had been 

fair to her and receptive to her needs. Inasmuch as she was a friend 

as well as an employee, I probably had taken her too much for

granted and maybe was even more demanding of her than of other 

employees. 

"I could not, of course, accept this resignation without some 

explanation. I took her aside and said, 'Paulette, you must 

understand that I cannot accept your resignation You mean a great 

deal to me and to this company, and you are as important to the 

success of this restaurant as I am.' I repeated this in front of the 

entire staff, and I invited her to my home and reiterated my 

confidence in her with my family present. 

"Paulette withdrew her resignation, and today I can rely on her as 

never before. I frequently reinforce this by expressing my 

appreciation for what she does and showing her how important she 

is to me and to the restaurant." 

"Talk to people about themselves," said Disraeli, one of the 

shrewdest men who ever ruled the British Empire. "Talk to people 

about themselves and they will listen for hours ." 

• Principle 6 - Make the other person feel important-and do it 

sincerely. 

~~~~ 

In a Nutshell - Six Ways To Make People Like You 

• Principle 1 - Become genuinely interested in other people. 

• Principle 2 - Smile. 

• Principle 3 - Remember that a person's name is to that person the 

sweetest and most important sound in any language. 

• Principle 4 - Be a good listener. Encourage others to talk about 

themselves. 

• Principle 5 - Talk in terms of the other person's interests. 

• Principle 6 - Make the other person feel important-and do it 

sincerely. 

--------------------------------------- 

Part Three - How To Win People To Your Way Of Thinking 

1 You Can't Win An Argument 

Shortly after the close of World War I, I learned an invaluable lesson 

one night in London. I was manager at the time for Sir Ross Smith. 

During the war, Sir Ross had been the Australian ace out in 

Palestine; and shortly after peace was declared, he astonished the 

world by flying halfway around it in thirty days. No such feat had 

ever been attempted before. It created a tremendous sensation. The 

Australian government awarded him fifty thousand dollars; the King

of England knighted him; and, for a while, he was the most talkedabout 

man under the Union Jack. I was attending a banquet one 

night given in Sir Ross's honor; and during the dinner, the man 

sitting next to me told a humorous story which hinged on the 

quotation "There's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them 

how we will." 

The raconteur mentioned that the quotation was from the Bible. He 

was wrong. I knew that, I knew it positively. There couldn't be the 

slightest doubt about it. And so, to get a feeling of importance and 

display my superiority, I appointed myself as an unsolicited and 

unwelcome committee of one to correct him. He stuck to his guns. 

What? From Shakespeare? Impossible! Absurd! That quotation was 

from the Bible. And he knew it. 

The storyteller was sitting on my right; and Frank Gammond, an old 

friend of mine, was seated at my left. Mr. Gammond had devoted 

years to the study of Shakespeare, So the storyteller and I agreed to 

submit the question to Mr. Gammond. Mr. Gammond listened, kicked 

me under the table, and then said: "Dale, you are wrong. The 

gentleman is right. It is from the Bible." 

On our way home that night, I said to Mr. Gammond: "Frank, you 

knew that quotation was from Shakespeare," 

"Yes, of course," he replied, "Hamlet, Act Five, Scene Two. But we 

were guests at a festive occasion, my dear Dale. Why prove to a 

man he is wrong? Is that going to make him like you? Why not let 

him save his face? He didn't ask for your opinion. He didn't want it. 

Why argue with him? Always avoid the acute angle." The man who 

said that taught me a lesson I'll never forget. I not only had made 

the storyteller uncomfortable, but had put my friend in an 

embarrassing situation. How much better it would have been had I 

not become argumentative. 

It was a sorely needed lesson because I had been an inveterate 

arguer. During my youth, I had argued with my brother about 

everything under the Milky Way. When I went to college, I studied 

logic and argumentation and went in for debating contests. Talk 

about being from Missouri, I was born there. I had to be shown. 

Later, I taught debating and argumentation in New York; and once, I 

am ashamed to admit, I planned to write a book on the subject. 

Since then, I have listened to, engaged in, and watched the effect of 

thousands of arguments. As a result of all this, I have come to the 

conclusion that there is only one way under high heaven to get the 

best of an argument - and that is to avoid it . 

Avoid it as you would avoid rattlesnakes and earthquakes.

Nine times out of ten, an argument ends with each of the 

contestants more firmly convinced than ever that he is absolutely 

right. 

You can't win an argument. You can't because if you lose it, you lose 

it; and if you win it, you lose it. Why? Well, suppose you triumph 

over the other man and shoot his argument full of holes and prove 

that he is non compos mentis. Then what? You will feel fine. But 

what about him? You have made him feel inferior. You have hurt his 

pride. He will resent your triumph. And - 

A man convinced against his will Is of the same opinion still. 

Years ago Patrick J. O'Haire joined one of my classes. He had had 

little education, and how he loved a scrap! He had once been a 

chauffeur, and he came to me because he had been trying, without 

much success, to sell trucks. A little questioning brought out the fact 

that he was continually scrapping with and antagonizing the very 

people he was trying to do business with, If a prospect said anything 

derogatory about the trucks he was selling, Pat saw red and was 

right at the customer's throat. Pat won a lot of arguments in those 

days. As he said to me afterward, "I often walked out of an office 

saving: 'I told that bird something.' Sure I had told him something, 

but I hadn't sold him anything." 

Mv first problem was not to teach Patrick J. O'Haire to talk. My 

immediate task was to train him to refrain from talking and to avoid 

verbal fights. 

Mr. O'Haire became one of the star salesmen for the White Motor 

Company in New York. How did he do it? Here is his story in his own 

words: "If I walk into a buyer's office now and he says: 'What? A 

White truck? 

They're no good! I wouldn't take one if you gave it to me. I'm going 

to buy the Whose-It truck,' I say, 'The Whose-It is a good truck. If 

you buy the Whose-It, you'll never make a mistake. The Whose-Its 

are made by a fine company and sold by good people.' 

"He is speechless then. There is no room for an argument. If he says 

the Whose-It is best and I say sure it is, he has to stop. He can't 

keep on all afternoon saying, 'It's the best' when I'm agreeing with 

him. We then get off the subject of Whose-It and I begin to talk 

about the good points of the White truck. 

"There was a time when a remark like his first one would have made 

me see scarlet and red and orange. I would start arguing against the 

Whose-It; and the more I argued against it, the more my prospect

argued in favor of it; and the more he argued, the more he sold 

himself on my competitor's product. 

"As I look back now I wonder how I was ever able to sell anything. I 

lost years of my life in scrapping and arguing. I keep my mouth shut 

now. It pays." 

As wise old Ben Franklin used to say: 

If you argue and rankle and contradict, you may achieve a victory 

sometimes; but it will be an empty victory because you will never get 

your opponent's good will. 

So figure it out for yourself. Which would you rather have, an 

academic, theatrical victory or a person's good will? You can seldom 

have both. 

The Boston Transcript once printed this bit of significant doggerel: 

Here lies the body of William Jay, . Who died maintaining his right of 

way-He was right, dead right, as he sped along, But he's just as 

dead as if he were wrong. 

You may be right, dead right, as you speed along in your argument; 

but as far as changing another's mind is concerned, you will probably 

be just as futile as if you were wrong. 

Frederick S. Parsons, an income tax consultant, had been disputing 

and wrangling for an hour with a gover-ment tax inspector. An item 

of nine thousand dollars was at stake. Mr. Parsons claimed that this 

nine thousand dollars was in reality a bad debt, that it would never 

be collected, that it ought not to be taxed. "Bad debt, my eye !" 

retorted the inspector. "It must be taxed." 

"This inspector was cold, arrogant and stubborn," Mr. Parsons said 

as he told the story to the class. "Reason was wasted and so were 

facts. . . The longer we argued, the more stubborn he became. So I 

decided to avoid argument, change the subject, and give him 

appreciation. 

"I said, 'I suppose this is a very petty matter in comparison with the 

really important and difficult decisions you're required to make. I've 

made a study of taxation myself. But I've had to get my knowledge 

from books. You are getting yours from the firing line of experience. 

I sometime wish I had a job like yours. It would teach me a lot.' I 

meant every word I said. 

"Well." The inspector straightened up in his chair, leaned back, and 

talked for a long time about his work, telling me of the clever frauds 

he had uncovered. His tone gradually became friendly, and presently

he was telling me about his children. As he left, he advised me that 

he would consider my problem further and give me his decision in a 

few days. 

"He called at my office three days later and informed me that he had 

decided to leave the tax return exactly as it was filed." 

This tax inspector was demonstrating one of the most common of 

human frailties. He wanted a feeling of importance; and as long as 

Mr. Parsons argued with him, he got his feeling of importance by 

loudly asserting his authority. But as soon as his importance was 

admitted and the argument stopped and he was permitted to expand 

his ego, he became a sympathetic and kindly human being. 

Buddha said: "Hatred is never ended by hatred but by love," and a 

misunderstanding is never ended by an argument but by tact, 

diplomacy, conciliation and a sympathetic desire to see the other 

person's viewpoint. 

Lincoln once reprimanded a young army officer for indulging in a 

violent controversy with an associate. "No man who is resolved to 

make the most of himself," said Lincoln, "can spare time for personal 

contention. Still less can he afford to take the consequences, 

including the vitiation of his temper and the loss of self-control. Yield 

larger things to which you show no more than equal rights; and yield 

lesser ones though clearly your own. Better give your path to a dog 

than be bitten by him in contesting for the right. Even killing the dog 

would not cure the bite." 

In an article in Bits and Pieces,* some suggestions are made on how 

to keep a disagreement from becoming an argument: 

Welcome the disagreement. Remember the slogan, "When two 

partners always agree, one of them is not necessary." If there is 

some point you haven't thought about, be thankful if it is brought to 

your attention. Perhaps this disagreement is your opportunity to be 

corrected before you make a serious mistake. 

Distrust your first instinctive impression. Our first natural reaction in 

a disagreeable situation is to be defensive. Be careful. Keep calm and 

watch out for your first reaction. It may be you at your worst, not 

your best. 

Control your temper. Remember, you can measure the size of a 

person by what makes him or her angry. 

Listen first. Give your opponents a chance to talk. Let them finish. Do 

not resist, defend or debate. This only raises barriers. Try to build 

bridges of understanding. Don't build higher barriers of 

misunderstanding.

Look for areas of agreement. When you have heard your opponents 

out, dwell first on the points and areas on which you agree. 

Be honest, Look for areas where you can admit error and say so. 

Apologize for your mistakes. It will help disarm your opponents and 

reduce defensiveness. 

Promise to think over your opponents' ideas and study them 

carefully. And mean it. Your opponents may be right. It is a lot easier 

at this stage to agree to think about their points than to move rapidly 

ahead and find yourself in a position where your opponents can say: 

"We tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen." 

Thank your opponents sincerely for their interest. Anyone who takes 

the time to disagree with you is interested in the same things you 

are. Think of them as people who really want to help you, and you 

may turn your opponents into friends. 

Postpone action to give both sides time to think through the 

problem. Suggest that a new meeting be held later that day or the 

next day, when all the facts may be brought to bear. In preparation 

for this meeting, ask yourself some hard questions: 

Could my opponents be right? Partly right? Is there truth or merit in 

their position or argument? Is my reaction one that will relieve the 

problem, or will it just relieve any frustration? Will my reaction drive 

my opponents further away or draw them closer to me? Will my 

reaction elevate the estimation good people have of me? Will I win 

or lose? What price will I have to pay if I win? If I am quiet about it, 

will the disagreement blow over? Is this difficult situation an 

opportunity for me? 

* Bits and Pieces, published by The Economics Press, Fairfield, N.J. 

Opera tenor Jan Peerce, after he was married nearly fifty years, once 

said: "My wife and I made a pact a long time ago, and we've kept it 

no matter how angry we've grown with each other. When one yells, 

the other should listen-because when two people yell, there is no 

communication, just noise and bad vibrations." 

• Principle 1 The only way to get the best of an argument is to avoid 

it. 

~~~~~~~ 

2 - A Sure Way Of Making Enemies -And How To Avoid It

When Theodore Roosevelt was in the White House, he confessed 

that if he could be right 75 percent of the time, he would reach the 

highest measure of his expectation. 

If that was the highest rating that one of the most distinguished men 

of the twentieth century could hope to obtain, what about you and 

me? 

If you can be sure of being right only 55 percent of the time, you can 

go down to Wall Street and make a million dollars a day. If you can't 

be sure of being right even 55 percent of the time, why should you 

tell other people they are wrong? 

You can tell people they are wrong by a look or an intonation or a 

gesture just as eloquently as you can in words - and if you tell them 

they are wrong, do you make them want to agree with you? Never! 

For you have struck a direct blow at their intelligence, judgment, 

pride and self-respect. That will make them want to strike back. But 

it will never make them want to change their minds. You may then 

hurl at them all the logic of a Plato or an Immanuel Kant, but you will 

not alter their opinions, for you have hurt their feelings. 

Never begin by announcing "I am going to prove so-and-so to you." 

That's bad. That's tantamount to saying: "I'm smarter than you are, 

I'm going to tell you a thing or two and make you change your 

mind." 

That is a challenge. It arouses opposition and makes the listener 

want to battle with you before you even start. 

It is difficult, under even the most benign conditions, to change 

people's minds. So why make it harder? Why handicap yourself? 

If you are going to prove anything, don't let anybody know it. Do it 

so subtly, so adroitly, that no one will feel that you are doing it. This 

was expressed succinctly by Alexander Pope: 

Men must be taught as if you taught them not And things unknown 

proposed as things forgot. 

Over three hundred years ago Galileo said: 

You cannot teach a man anything; you can only help him to find it 

within himself. 

As Lord Chesterfield said to his son: 

Be wiser than other people if you can; but do not tell them so. 

Socrates said repeatedly to his followers in Athens:

One thing only I know, and that is that I know nothing. 

Well, I can't hope to be any smarter than Socrates, so I have quit 

telling people they are wrong. And I find that it pays. 

If a person makes a statement that you think is wrong - yes, even 

that you know is wrong - isn't it better to begin by saying: "Well, 

now, look, I thought otherwise, but I may be wrong. I frequently 

am. And if I am wrong, I want to be put right. Let's examine the 

facts." 

There's magic, positive magic, in such phrases as: "I may be wrong. 

I frequently am. Let's examine the facts." 

Nobody in the heavens above or on earth beneath or in the waters 

under the earth will ever object to your saying: "I may be wrong. 

Let's examine the facts." 

One of our class members who used this approach in dealing with 

customers was Harold Reinke, a Dodge dealer in Billings, Montana. 

He reported that because of the pressures of the automobile 

business, he was often hard-boiled and callous when dealing with 

customers' complaints. This caused flared tempers, loss of business 

and general unpleasantness. 

He told his class: "Recognizing that this was getting me nowhere 

fast, I tried a new tack. I would say something like this: 'Our 

dealership has made so many mistakes that I am frequently 

ashamed. We may have erred in your case. Tell me about it.' 

"This approach becomes quite disarming, and by the time the 

customer releases his feelings, he is usually much more reasonable 

when it comes to settling the matter. In fact, several customers have 

thanked me for having such an understanding attitude. And two of 

them have even brought in friends to buy new cars. In this highly 

competitive market, we need more of this type of customer, and I 

believe that showing respect for all customers' opinions and treating 

them diplomatically and courteously will help beat the competition." 

You will never get into trouble by admitting that you may be wrong. 

That will stop all argument and inspire your opponent to be just as 

fair and open and broad-minded as you are. It will make him want to 

admit that he, too, may be wrong. 

If you know positively that a person is wrong, and you bluntly tell 

him or her so, what happens? Let me illustrate. Mr. S---- a young 

New York attorney, once argued a rather important case before the 

United States Supreme Court (Lustgarten v. Fleet Corporation 280 

U.S. 320). The case involved a considerable sum of money and an

important question of law. During the argument, one of the Supreme 

Court justices said to him: "The statute of limitations in admiralty law 

is six years, is it not?" 

Mr. S---- stopped, stared at the Justice for a moment, and then said 

bluntly: "Your Honor, there is no statute of limitations in admiralty." 

"A hush fell on the court," said Mr. S---- as he related his experience 

to one of the author's classes, "and the temperature in the room 

seemed to drop to zero. I was right. Justice - was wrong. And I had 

told him so. But did that make him friendly? No. I still believe that I 

had the law on my side. And I know that I spoke better than I ever 

spoke before. But I didn't persuade. I made the enormous blunder of 

telling a very learned and famous man that he was wrong." 

Few people are logical. Most of us are prejudiced and biased. Most of 

us are blighted with preconceived notions, with jealousy, suspicion, 

fear, envy and pride. And most citizens don't want to change their 

minds about their religion or their haircut or communism or their 

favorite movie star. So, if you are inclined to tell people they are 

wrong, please read the following paragraph every morning before 

breakfast. It is from James Harvey Robinson's enlightening book The 

Mind in the Making. 

We sometimes find ourselves changing our minds without any 

resistance or heavy emotion, but if we are told we are wrong, we 

resent the imputation and harden our hearts. We are incredibly 

heedless in the formation of our beliefs, but find ourselves filled with 

an illicit passion for them when anyone proposes to rob us of their 

companionship. It is obviously not the ideas themselves that are dear 

to us, but our self-esteem which is threatened. ... The little word 

"my" is the most important one in human affairs, and properly to 

reckon with it is the beginning of wisdom. It has the same force 

whether it is "my" dinner, "my" dog, and "my" house, or "my" father, 

"my" country, and "my" God. We not only resent the imputation that 

our watch is wrong, or our car shabby, but that our conception of 

the canals of Mars, of the pronunciation of "Epictetus," of the 

medicinal value of salicin, or of the date of Sargon I is subject to 

revision. We like to continue to believe what we have been 

accustomed to accept as true, and the resentment aroused when 

doubt is cast upon any of our assumptions leads us to seek every 

manner of excuse for clinging to it. The result is that most of our socalled 

reasoning consists in finding arguments for going on believing 

as we already do. 

Carl Rogers, the eminent psychologist, wrote in his book On 

Becoming a Person: 

I have found it of enormous value when I can permit myself to 

understand the other person. The way in which I have worded this

statement may seem strange to you, Is it necessary to permit 

oneself to understand another? I think it is. Our first reaction to most 

of the statements (which we hear from other people) is an 

evaluation or judgment, rather than an understanding of it. When 

someone expresses some feeling, attitude or belief, our tendency is 

almost immediately to feel "that's right," or "that's stupid," "that's 

abnormal," "that's unreasonable," "that's incorrect," "that's not nice." 

Very rarely do we permit ourselves to understand precisely what the 

meaning of the statement is to the other person. (*) 

---- 

[*] Adapted from Carl R. Rogers, On Becoming a Person (Boston: 

Houghton Mifflin, 1961), pp. 18ff. 

---- 

I once employed an interior decorator to make some draperies for 

my home. When the bill arrived, I was dismayed. 

A few days later, a friend dropped in and looked at the draperies. 

The price was mentioned, and she exclaimed with a note of triumph: 

"What? That's awful. I am afraid he put one over on you." 

True? Yes, she had told the truth, but few people like to listen to 

truths that reflect on their judgment. So, being human, I tried to 

defend myself. I pointed out that the best is eventually the cheapest, 

that one can't expect to get quality and artistic taste at bargainbasement 

prices, and so on and on. 

The next day another friend dropped in, admired the draperies, 

bubbled over with enthusiasm, and expressed a wish that she could 

afford such exquisite creations for her home. My reaction was totally 

different. "Well, to tell the truth," I said, "I can't afford them myself. 

I paid too much. I'm sorry I ordered them," 

When we are wrong, we may admit it to ourselves. And if we are 

handled gently and tactfully, we may admit it to others and even 

take pride in our frankness and broad-mindedness. But not if 

someone else is trying to ram the unpalatable fact down our 

esophagus. 

Horace Greeley, the most famous editor in America during the time 

of the Civil War, disagreed violently with Lincoln's policies. He 

believed that he could drive Lincoln into agreeing with him by a 

campaign of argument, ridicule and abuse. He waged this bitter 

campaign month after month, year after year. In fact, he wrote a 

brutal, bitter, sarcastic and personal attack on President Lincoln the 

night Booth shot him.

But did all this bitterness make Lincoln agree with Greeley? Not at 

all. Ridicule and abuse never do. If you want some excellent 

suggestions about dealing with people and managing yourself and 

improving your personality, read Benjamin Franklin's autobiography - 

one of the most fascinating life stories ever written, one of the 

classics of American literature. Ben Franklin tells how he conquered 

the iniquitous habit of argument and transformed himself into one of 

the most able, suave and diplomatic men in American history. 

One day, when Ben Franklin was a blundering youth, an old Quaker 

friend took him aside and lashed him with a few stinging truths, 

something like this: 

Ben, you are impossible. Your opinions have a slap in them for 

everyone who differs with you. They have become so offensive that 

nobody cares for them. Your friends find they enjoy themselves 

better when you are not around. You know so much that no man can 

tell you anything. Indeed, no man is going to try, for the effort would 

lead only to discomfort and hard work. So you are not likely ever to 

know any more than you do now, which is very little. 

One of the finest things I know about Ben Franklin is the way he 

accepted that smarting rebuke. He was big enough and wise enough 

to realize that it was true, to sense that he was headed for failure 

and social disaster. So he made a right-about-face. He began 

immediately to change his insolent, opinionated ways. 

"I made it a rule," said Franklin, "to forbear all direct contradiction to 

the sentiment of others, and all positive assertion of my own, I even 

forbade myself the use of every word or expression in the language 

that imported a fix'd opinion, such as 'certainly,' 'undoubtedly,' etc., 

and I adopted, instead of them, 'I conceive,' 'I apprehend, ' or 'I 

imagine' a thing to be so or so, or 'it so appears to me at present.' 

When another asserted something that I thought an error, I deny'd 

myself the pleasure of contradicting him abruptly, and of showing 

immediately some absurdity in his proposition: and in answering I 

began by observing that in certain cases or circumstances his opinion 

would be right, but in the present case there appear'd or seem'd to 

me some difference, etc. I soon found the advantage of this change 

in my manner; the conversations I engag'd in went on more 

pleasantly. The modest way in which I propos'd my opinions procur'd 

them a readier reception and less contradiction; I had less 

mortification when I was found to be in the wrong, and I more easily 

prevaile'd with others to give up their mistakes and join with me 

when I happened to be in the right. 

"And this mode, which I at first put on with some violence to natural 

inclination, became at length so easy, and so habitual to me, that 

perhaps for these fifty years past no one has ever heard a 

dogmatical expression escape me. And to this habit (after my

character of integrity) I think it principally owing that I had earned so 

much weight with my fellow citizens when I proposed new 

institutions, or alterations in the old, and so much influence in public 

councils when I became a member; for I was but a bad speaker, 

never eloquent, subject to much hesitation in my choice of words, 

hardly correct in language, and yet I generally carried my points." 

How do Ben Franklin's methods work in business? Let's take two 

examples. 

Katherine A, Allred of Kings Mountain, North Carolina, is an industrial 

engineering supervisor for a yarn-processing plant. She told one of 

our classes how she handled a sensitive problem before and after 

taking our training: 

"Part of my responsibility," she reported, "deals with setting up and 

maintaining incentive systems and standards for our operators so 

they can make more money by producing more yarn. The system we 

were using had worked fine when we had only two or three different 

types of yarn, but recently we had expanded our inventory and 

capabilities to enable us to run more than twelve different varieties. 

The present system was no longer adequate to pay the operators 

fairly for the work being performed and give them an incentive to 

increase production. I had worked up a new system which would 

enable us to pay the operator by the class of yam she was running at 

any one particular time. With my new system in hand, I entered the 

meeting determined to prove to the management that my system 

was the right approach. I told them in detail how they were wrong 

and showed where they were being unfair and how I had all the 

answers they needed. To say the least, I failed miserably! I had 

become so busy defending my position on the new system that I had 

left them no opening to graciously admit their problems on the old 

one. The issue was dead. 

"After several sessions of this course, I realized all too well where I 

had made my mistakes. I called another meeting and this time I 

asked where they felt their problems were. We discussed each point, 

and I asked them their opinions on which was the best way to 

proceed. With a few low-keyed suggestions, at proper intervals, I let 

them develop my system themselves. At the end of the meeting 

when I actually presented my system, they enthusiastically accepted 

it. 

"I am convinced now that nothing good is accomplished and a lot of 

damage can be done if you tell a person straight out that he or she is 

wrong. You only succeed in stripping that person of self-dignity and 

making yourself an unwelcome part of any discussion." 

Let's take another example - and remember these cases I am citing 

are typical of the experiences of thousands of other people. R. V.

Crowley was a salesman for a lumber company in New York. Crowley 

admitted that he had been telling hard-boiled lumber inspectors for 

years that they were wrong. And he had won the arguments too. But 

it hadn't done any good. "For these lumber inspectors," said Mr. 

Crowley, "are like baseball umpires. Once they make a decision, they 

never change it," 

Mr. Crowley saw that his firm was losing thousands of dollars 

through the arguments he won. So while taking my course, he 

resolved to change tactics and abandon arguments. With what 

results? Here is the story as he told it to the fellow members of his 

class: 

"One morning the phone rang in my office. A hot and bothered 

person at the other end proceeded to inform me that a car of lumber 

we had shipped into his plant was entirely unsatisfactory. His firm 

had stopped unloading and requested that we make immediate 

arrangements to remove the stock from their yard. After about onefourth 

of the car had been unloaded, their lumber inspector reported 

that the lumber was running 55 percent below grade. Under the 

circumstances, they refused to accept it. 

"I immediately started for his plant and on the way turned over in 

my mind the best way to handle the situation. Ordinarily, under such 

circumstances, I should have quoted grading rules and tried, as a 

result of my own experience and knowledge as a lumber inspector, 

to convince the other inspector that the lumber was actually up to 

grade, and that he was misinterpreting the rules in his inspection. 

However, I thought I would apply the principles learned in this 

training. 

"When I arrived at the plant, I found the purchasing agent and the 

lumber inspector in a wicked humor, both set for an argument and a 

fight. We walked out to the car that was being unloaded, and I 

requested that they continue to unload so that I could see how 

things were going. I asked the inspector to go right ahead and lay 

out the rejects, as he had been doing, and to put the good pieces in 

another pile. 

"After watching him for a while it began to dawn on me that his 

inspection actually was much too strict and that he was 

misinterpreting the rules. This particular lumber was white pine, and 

I knew the inspector was 

thoroughly schooled in hard woods but not a competent, 

experienced inspector on white pine. White pine happened to be my 

own strong suit, but did I offer any objection to the way he was 

grading the lumber? None whatever. I kept on watching and 

gradually began to ask questions as to why certain pieces were not 

satisfactory. I didn't for one instant insinuate that the inspector was

wrong. I emphasized that my only reason for asking was in order 

that we could give his firm exactly what they wanted in future 

shipments. wanted in future shipments. 

"By asking questions in a very friendly, cooperative spirit, and 

insisting continually that they were right in laying out boards not 

satisfactory to their purpose, I got him warmed up, and the strained 

relations between us began to thaw and melt away. An occasional 

carefully put remark on my part gave birth to the idea in his mind 

that possibly some of these rejected pieces were actually within the 

grade that they had bought, and that their requirements demanded 

a more expensive grade. I was very careful, however, not to let him 

think I was making an issue of this point. 

"Gradually his whole attitude changed. He finally admitted to me that 

he was not experienced on white pine and began to ask me 

questions about each piece as it came out of the car, I would explain 

why such a piece came within the grade specified, but kept on 

insisting that we did not want him to take it if it was unsuitable for 

their purpose. He finally got to the point where he felt guilty every 

time he put a piece in the rejected pile. And at last he saw that the 

mistake was on their part for not having specified as good a grade as 

they needed. 

"The ultimate outcome was that he went through the entire carload 

again after I left, accepted the whole lot, and we received a check in 

full. 

"In that one instance alone, a little tact, and the determination to 

refrain from telling the other man he was wrong, saved my company 

a substantial amount of cash, and it would be hard to place a money 

value on the good will that was saved." 

Martin Luther King was asked how, as a pacifist, he could be an 

admirer of Air Force General Daniel "Chappie" James, then the 

nation's highest-ranking black officer. Dr. King replied, "I judge 

people by their own principles - not by my own." 

In a similar way, General Robert E. Lee once spoke to the president 

of the Confederacy, Jefferson Davis, in the most glowing terms about 

a certain officer under his command. Another officer in attendance 

was astonished. "General," he said, " do you not know that the man 

of whom you speak so highly is one of your bitterest enemies who 

misses no opportunity to malign you?" "Yes," replied General Lee, 

"but the president asked my opinion of him; he did not ask for his 

opinion of me." 

By the way, I am not revealing anything new in this chapter. Two 

thousand years ago, Jesus said: "Agree with thine adversary 

quickly."

And 2,200 years before Christ was born, King Akhtoi of Egypt gave 

his son some shrewd advice - advice that is sorely needed today. "Be 

diplomatic," counseled the King. "It will help you gain your point." 

In other words, don't argue with your customer or your spouse or 

your adversary. Don't tell them they are wrong, don't get them 

stirred up. Use a little diplomacy. 

• Principle 2 - Show respect for the other person's opinions. Never 

say, "You're wrong." 

~~~~~~~ 

3 - If You're Wrong, Admit It 

Within a minute's walk of my house there was a wild stretch of virgin 

timber, where the blackberry thickets foamed white in the 

springtime, where the squirrels nested and reared their young, and 

the horseweeds grew as tall as a horse's head. This unspoiled 

woodland was called Forest Park - and it was a forest, probably not 

much different in appearance from what it was when Columbus 

discovered America. I frequently walked in this park with Rex, my 

little Boston bulldog. He was a friendly, harmless little hound; and 

since we rarely met anyone in the park, I took Rex along without a 

leash or a muzzle. 

One day we encountered a mounted policeman in the park, a 

policeman itching to show his authority. 

"'What do you mean by letting that dog run loose in the park without 

a muzzle and leash?" he reprimanded me. "Don't you know it's 

against the law?" 

"Yes, I know it is," I replied softy, "but I didn't think he would do any 

harm out here." 

"You didn't think! You didn't think! The law doesn't give a tinker's 

damn about what you think. That dog might kill a squirrel or bite a 

child. Now, I'm going to let you off this time; but if I catch this dog 

out here again without a muzzle and a leash, you'll have to tell it to 

the judge ." 

I meekly promised to obey. 

And I did obey - for a few times. But Rex didn't like the muzzle, and 

neither did I; so we decided to take a chance. Everything was lovely 

for a while, and then we struck a snag. Rex and I raced over the 

brow of a hill one afternoon and there, suddenly - to my dismay - I

saw the majesty of the law, astride a bay horse. Rex was out in 

front, heading straight for the officer. 

I was in for it. I knew it. So I didn't wait until the policeman started 

talking. I beat him to it. I said: "Officer, you've caught me redhanded. 

I'm guilty. I have no alibis, no excuses. You warned me last 

week that if I brought the dog out here again without a muzzle you 

would fine me." 

"Well, now," the policeman responded in a soft tone. "I know it's a 

temptation to let a little dog like that have a run out here when 

nobody is around." 

"Sure it's a temptation," I replied, "but it is against the law." 

"Well, a little dog like that isn't going to harm anybody," the 

policeman remonstrated. 

"No, but he may kill squirrels," I said. 

"Well now, I think you are taking this a bit too seriously," he told me. 

"I'll tell you what you do. You just let him run over the hill there 

where I can't see him - and we'll forget all about it." 

That policeman, being human, wanted a feeling of importance; so 

when I began to condemn myself, the only way he could nourish his 

self-esteem was to take the magnanimous attitude of showing 

mercy. 

But suppose I had tried to defend myself - well, did you ever argue 

with a policeman? 

But instead of breaking lances with him, I admitted that he was 

absolutely right and I was absolutely wrong; I admitted it quickly, 

openly, and with enthusiasm. The affair terminated graciously in my 

taking his side and his taking my side. Lord Chesterfield himself 

could hardly have been more gracious than this mounted policeman, 

who, only a week previously, had threatened to have the law on me. 

If we know we are going to be rebuked anyhow, isn't it far better to 

beat the other person to it and do it ourselves? Isn't it much easier 

to listen to self-criticism than to bear condemnation from alien lips? 

Say about yourself all the derogatory things you know the other 

person is thinking or wants to say or intends to say - and say them 

before that person has a chance to say them. The chances are a 

hundred to one that a generous, forgiving attitude will be taken and 

your mistakes will be minimized just as the mounted policeman did 

with me and Rex.

Ferdinand E. Warren, a commercial artist, used this technique to win 

the good will of a petulant, scolding buyer of art. 

"It is important, in making drawings for advertising and publishing 

purposes, to be precise and very exact," Mr. Warren said as he told 

the story. 

"Some art editors demand that their commissions be executed 

immediately; and in these cases, some slight error is liable to occur. I 

knew one art director in particular who was always delighted to find 

fault with some little thing. I have often left his office in disgust, not 

because of the criticism, but because of his method of attack. 

Recently I delivered a rush job to this editor, and he phoned me to 

call at his office immediately. He said something was wrong. When I 

arrived, I found just what I had anticipated - and dreaded. He was 

hostile, gloating over his chance to criticize. He demanded with heat 

why I had done so and so. My opportunity had come to apply the 

self-criticism I had been studying about. So I said: ''Mr. So-and-so, if 

what you say is true, I am at fault and there is absolutely no excuse 

for my blunder. I have been doing drawings for you long enough to 

know bet-ter. I'm ashamed of myself.' 

"Immediately he started to defend me. 'Yes, you're right, but after 

all, this isn't a serious mistake. It is only -' 

"I interrupted him. 'Any mistake,' I said, 'may be costly and they are 

all irritating.' 

"He started to break in, but I wouldn't let him. I was having a grand 

time. For the first time in my life, I was criticizing myself - and I 

loved it. 

" 'I should have been more careful,' I continued. 'You give me a lot 

of work, and you deserve the best; so I'm going to do this drawing 

all over.' 

" 'No! No!' he protested. 'I wouldn't think of putting you to all that 

trouble.' He praised my work, assured me that he wanted only a 

minor change and that my slight error hadn't cost his firm any 

money; and, after all, it was a mere detail - not worth worrying 

about. 

"My eagerness to criticize myself took all the fight out of him. He 

ended up by taking me to lunch; and before we parted, he gave me 

a check and another commission" 

There is a certain degree of satisfaction in having the courage to 

admit one's errors. It not only clears the air of guilt and 

defensiveness, but often helps solve the problem created by the 

error.

Bruce Harvey of Albuquerque, New Mexico, had incorrectly 

authorized payment of full wages to an employee on sick leave. 

When he discovered his error, he brought it to the attention of the 

employee and explained that to correct the mistake he would have to 

reduce his next paycheck by the entire amount of the overpayment. 

The employee pleaded that as that would cause him a serious 

financial problem, could the money be repaid over a period of time? 

In order to do this, Harvey explained, he would have to obtain his 

supervisor's approval. "And this I knew," reported Harvey, "would 

result in a boss-type explosion, While trying to decide how to handle 

this situation better, I realized that the whole mess was my fault and 

I would have to admit I it to my boss. 

"I walked into his office, told him that I had made a mistake and 

then informed him of the complete facts. He replied in an explosive 

manner that it was the fault of the personnel department. I repeated 

that it was my fault. He exploded again about carelessness in the 

accounting department. Again I explained it was my fault. He blamed 

two other people in the office. But each time I reiterated it was my 

fault. Finally, he looked at me and said, 'Okay, it was your fault. Now 

straighten it out.' The error was corrected and nobody got into 

trouble. I felt great because I was able to handle a tense situation 

and had the courage not to seek alibis. My boss has had more 

respect for me ever since." 

Any fool can try to defend his or her mistakes - and most fools do - 

but it raises one above the herd and gives one a feeling of nobility 

and exultation to admit one's mistakes. For example, one of the most 

beautiful things that history records about Robert E. Lee is the way 

he blamed himself and only himself for the failure of Pickett's charge 

at Gettysburg. 

Pickett's charge was undoubtedly the most brilliant and picturesque 

attack that ever occurred in the Western world. General George E. 

Pickett himself was picturesque. He wore his hair so long that his 

auburn locks almost touched his shoulders; and, like Napoleon in his 

Italian campaigns, he wrote ardent love-letters almost daily while on 

the battlefield. His devoted troops cheered him that tragic July 

afternoon as he rode off jauntily toward the Union lines, his cap set 

at a rakish angle over his right ear. They cheered and they followed 

him, man touching man, rank pressing rank, with banners flying and 

bayonets gleaming in the sun. It was a gallant sight. Daring. 

Magnificent. A murmur of admiration ran through the Union lines as 

they beheld it. 

Pickett's troops swept forward at any easy trot, through orchard and 

cornfield, across a meadow and over a ravine. All the time, the 

enemy's cannon was tearing ghastly holes in their ranks, But on they 

pressed, grim, irresistible.

Suddenly the Union infantry rose from behind the stone wall on 

Cemetery Ridge where they had been hiding and fired volley after 

volley into Pickett's onrushing troops. The crest of the hill was a 

sheet of flame, a slaughterhouse, a blazing volcano. In a few 

minutes, all of Pickett's brigade commanders except one were down, 

and four-fifths of his five thousand men had fallen. 

General Lewis A. Armistead, leading the troops in the final plunge, 

ran forward, vaulted over the stone wall, and, waving his cap on the 

top of his sword, shouted: "Give 'em the steel, boys!" 

They did. They leaped over the wall, bayoneted their enemies, 

smashed skulls with clubbed muskets, and planted the battleflags of 

the South on Cemetery Ridge. The banners waved there only for a 

moment. But that moment, brief as it was, recorded the high-water 

mark of the Confederacy. 

Pickett's charge - brilliant, heroic - was nevertheless the beginning of 

the end. Lee had failed. He could not penetrate the North. And he 

knew it. 

The South was doomed. 

Lee was so saddened, so shocked, that he sent in his resignation and 

asked Jefferson Davis, the president of the Confederacy, to appoint 

"a younger and abler man." If Lee had wanted to blame the 

disastrous failure of Pickett's charge on someone else, he could have 

found a score of alibis. Some of his division commanders had failed 

him. The cavalry hadn't arrived in time to support the infantry attack. 

This had gone wrong and that had gone awry. 

But Lee was far too noble to blame others. As Pickett's beaten and 

bloody troops struggled back to the Confederate lines, Robert E. Lee 

rode out to meet them all alone and greeted them with a selfcondemnation 

that was little short of sublime. "All this has been my 

fault," he confessed. "I and I alone have lost this battle." 

Few generals in all history have had the courage and character to 

admit that. 

Michael Cheung, who teaches our course in Hong Kong, told of how 

the Chinese culture presents some special problems and how 

sometimes it is necessary to recognize that the benefit of applying a 

principle may be more advantageous than maintaining an old 

tradition. He had one middle-aged class member who had been 

estranged from his son for many years. The father had been an 

opium addict, but was now cured. In Chinese tradition an older 

person cannot take the first step. The father felt that it was up to his 

son to take the initiative toward a reconciliation. In an early session,

he told the class about the grandchildren he had never seen and how 

much he desired to be reunited with his son. His classmates, all 

Chinese, understood his conflict between his desire and longestablished 

tradition. The father felt that young people should have 

respect for their elders and that he was right in not giving in to his 

desire, but to wait for his son to come to him. 

Toward the end of the course the father again addressed his class. "I 

have pondered this problem," he said. "Dale Carnegie says, 'If you 

are wrong, admit it quickly and emphatically.' It is too late for me to 

admit it quickly, but I can admit it emphatically. I wronged my son. 

He was right in not wanting to see me and to expel me from his life. 

I may lose face by asking a younger person's forgiveness, but I was 

at fault and it is my responsibility to admit this." The class applauded 

and gave him their full support. At the next class he told how he 

went to his son's house, asked for and received forgiveness and was 

now embarked on a new relationship with his son, his daughter-inlaw 

and the grandchildren he had at last met. 

Elbert Hubbard was one of the most original authors who ever stirred 

up a nation, and his stinging sentences often aroused fierce 

resentment. But Hubbard with his rare skill for handling people 

frequently turned his enemies into friends. 

For example, when some irritated reader wrote in to say that he 

didn't agree with such and such an article and ended by calling 

Hubbard this and that, Elbert Hubbard would answer like this: 

Come to think it over, I don't entirely agree with it myself. Not 

everything I wrote yesterday appeals to me today. I am glad to learn 

what you think on the subject. The next time you are in the 

neighborhood you must visit us and we'll get this subject threshed 

out for all time. So here is a handclasp over the miles, and I am, 

Yours sincerely, 

What could you say to a man who treated you like that? 

When we are right, let's try to win people gently and tactfully to our 

way of thinking, and when we are wrong - and that will be 

surprisingly often, if we are honest with ourselves - let's admit our 

mistakes quickly and with enthusiasm. Not only will that technique 

produce astonishing results; but, believe it or not, it is a lot more 

fun, under the circumstances, than trying to defend oneself. 

Remember the old proverb: "By fighting you never get enough, but 

by yielding you get more than you expected." 

• Principle 3 - If you are wrong, admit it quickly and emphatically.

~~~~~~~ 

4 - A Drop Of Honey 

If your temper is aroused and you tell 'em a thing or two, you will 

have a fine time unloading your feelings. But what about the other 

person? Will he share your pleasure? Will your belligerent tones, your 

hostile attitude, make it easy for him to agree with you? 

"If you come at me with your fists doubled," said Woodrow Wilson, 

"I think I can promise you that mine will double as fast as yours; but 

if you come to me and say, 'Let us sit down and take counsel 

together, and, if we differ from each other, understand why it is that 

we differ, just what the points at issue are,' we will presently find 

that we are not so far apart after all, that the points on which we 

differ are few and the points on which we agree are many, and that 

if we only have the patience and the candor and the desire to get 

together, we will get together." 

Nobody appreciated the truth of Woodrow Wilson's statement more 

than John D. Rockefeller, Jr. Back in 1915, Rockefeller was the most 

fiercely despised man in Colorado, One of the bloodiest strikes in the 

history of American industry had been shocking the state for two 

terrible years. Irate, belligerent miners were demanding higher 

wages from the Colorado Fuel and Iron Company; Rockefeller 

controlled that company. Property had been destroyed, troops had 

been called out. Blood had been shed. Strikers had been shot, their 

bodies riddled with bullets. 

At a time like that, with the air seething with hatred, Rockefeller 

wanted to win the strikers to his way of thinking. And he did it. How? 

Here's the story. After weeks spent in making friends, Rockefeller 

addressed the representatives of the strikers. This speech, in its 

entirety, is a masterpiece. It produced astonishing results. It calmed 

the tempestuous waves of hate that threatened to engulf 

Rockefeller. It won him a host of admirers. It presented facts in such 

a friendly manner that the strikers went back to work without saying 

another word about the increase in wages for which they had fought 

so violently. 

The opening of that remarkable speech follows. Note how it fairly 

glows with friendliness. Rockefeller, remember, was talking to men 

who, a few days previously, had wanted to hang him by the neck to 

a sour apple tree; yet he couldn't have been more gracious, more 

friendly if he had addressed a group of medical missionaries. His 

speech was radiant with such phrases as I am proud to be here, 

having visited in your homes, met many of your wives and children, 

we meet here not as strangers, but as friends ... spirit of mutual 

friendship, our common interests, it is only by your courtesy that I 

am here.

"This is a red-letter day in my life," Rockefeller began. "It is the first 

time I have ever had the good fortune to meet the representatives of 

the employees of this great company, its officers and 

superintendents, together, and I can assure you that I am proud to 

be here, and that I shall remember this gathering as long as I live. 

Had this meeting been held two weeks ago, I should have stood here 

a stranger to most of you, recognizing a few faces. Having had the 

opportunity last week of visiting all the camps in the southern coal 

field and of talking individually with practically all of the 

representatives, except those who were away; having visited in your 

homes, met many of your wives and children, we meet here not as 

strangers, but as friends, and it is in that spirit of mutual friendship 

that I am glad to have this opportunity to discuss with you our 

common interests. 

"Since this is a meeting of the officers of the company and the 

representatives of the employees, it is only by your courtesy that I 

am here, for I am not so fortunate as to be either one or the other; 

and yet I feel that I am intimately associated with you men, for, in a 

sense, I represent both the stockholders and the directors." 

Isn't that a superb example of the fine art of making friends out of 

enemies? 

Suppose Rockefeller had taken a different tack. Suppose he had 

argued with those miners and hurled devastating facts in their faces. 

Suppose he had told them by his tones and insinuations that they 

were wrong Suppose that, by all the rules of logic, he had proved 

that they were wrong. What would have happened? More anger 

would have been stirred up, more hatred, more revolt. 

If a man's heart is rankling with discord and ill feeling toward you, 

you can't win him to your way of thinking with all the logic in 

Christendom. Scolding parents and domineering bosses and 

husbands and nagging wives ought to realize that people don't want 

to change their minds. They can't he forced or driven to agree with 

you or me. But they may possibly be led to, if we are gentle and 

friendly, ever so gentle and ever so friendly. 

Lincoln said that, in effect, over a hundred years ago. Here are his 

words: 

It is an old and true maxim that "a drop of honey catches more flies 

than a gallon of gall." So with men, if you would win a man to you 

cause, first convince him that you are his sincere friend. Therein is a 

drop of honey that catches his heart; which, say what you will, is the 

great high road to his reason.

Business executives have learned that it pays to be friendly to 

strikers. For example, when 2,500 employees in the White Motor 

Company's plant struck for higher wages and a union shop, Robert F. 

Black, then president of the company, didn't lose his temper and 

condemn and threaten and talk of tryanny and Communists. He 

actually praised the strikers. He published an advertisement in the 

Cleveland papers, complimenting them on "the peaceful way in 

which they laid down their tools." Finding the strike pickets idle, he 

bought them a couple of dozen baseball bats and gloves and invited 

them to play ball on vacant lots. For those who preferred bowling, he 

rented a bowling alley. 

This friendliness on Mr. Black's part did what friendliness always 

does: it begot friendliness. So the strikers borrowed brooms, shovels, 

and rubbish carts, and began picking up matches, papers, cigarette 

stubs, and cigar butts around the factory. Imagine it! Imagine 

strikers tidying up the factory grounds while battling for higher 

wages and recognition of the union. Such an event had never been 

heard of before in the long, tempestuous history of American labor 

wars. That strike ended with a compromise settlement within a 

week-ended without any ill feeling or rancor. 

Daniel Webster, who looked like a god and talked like Jehovah, was 

one of the most successful advocates who ever pleaded a case; yet 

he ushered in his most powerful arguments with such friendly 

remarks as: "It will be for the jury to consider," "This may perhaps 

be worth thinking of," " Here are some facts that I trust you will not 

lose sight of," or "You, with your knowledge of human nature, will 

easily see the significance of these facts." No bulldozing. No highpressure 

methods. No attempt to force his opinions on others. 

Webster used the soft-spoken, quiet, friendly approach, and it helped 

to make him famous. 

You may never be called upon to settle a strike or address a jury, but 

you may want to get your rent reduced. Will the friendly approach 

help you then? Let's see. 

0. L. Straub, an engineer, wanted to get his rent reduced. And he 

knew his landlord was hard-boiled. "I wrote him," Mr. Straub said in 

a speech before the class, "notifying him that I was vacating my 

apartment as soon as my lease expired. The truth was, I didn't want 

to move. I wanted to stay if I could get my rent reduced. But the 

situation seemed hopeless. Other tenants had tried - and failed. 

Everyone told me that the landlord was extremely difficult to deal 

with. But I said to myself, 'I am studying a course in how to deal 

with people, so I'll try it on him - and see how it works.' 

"He and his secretary came to see me as soon as he got my letter. I 

met him at the door with a friendly greeting. I fairly bubbled with 

good will and enthusiasm. I didn't begin talking about how high the

ent was. I began talking about how much I liked his apartment 

house. Believe me, I was 'hearty in my approbation and lavish in my 

praise.' I complimented him on the way he ran the building and told 

him I should like so much to stay for another year but I couldn't 

afford it. 

"He had evidently never had such a reception from a tenant. He 

hardly knew what to make of it. 

"Then he started to tell me his troubles. Complaining tenants. One 

had written him fourteen letters, some of them positively insulting. 

Another threatened to break his lease unless the landlord kept the 

man on the floor above from snoring. 'What a relief it is,' he said, 'to 

have a satisfied tenant like you.' And then, without my even asking 

him to do it, he offered to reduce my rent a little. I wanted more, so 

I named the figure I could afford to pay, and he accepted without a 

word. 

"As he was leaving, he turned to me and asked, 'What decorating 

can I do for you?' 

"If I had tried to get the rent reduced by the methods the other 

tenants were using, I am positive I should have met with the same 

failure they encountered. It was the friendly, sympathetic, 

appreciative approach that won." 

Dean Woodcock of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, is the superintendent of 

a department of the local electric company. His staff was called upon 

to repair some equipment on top of a pole. This type of work had 

formerly been performed by a different department and had only 

recently been transferred to Woodcock's section Although his people 

had been trained in the work, this was the first time they had ever 

actually been called upon to do it. Everybody in the organization was 

interested in seeing if and how they could handle it. Mr. Woodcock, 

several of his subordinate managers, and members of other 

departments of the utility went to see the operation. Many cars and 

trucks were there, and a number of people were standing around 

watching the two lone men on top of the pole. 

Glancing around, Woodcock noticed a man up the street getting out 

of his car with a camera. He began taking pictures of the scene. 

Utility people are extremely conscious of public relations, and 

suddenly Woodcock realized what this setup looked like to the man 

with the camera - overkill, dozens of people being called out to do a 

two-person job. He strolled up the street to the photographer. 

"I see you're interested in our operation." 

"Yes, and my mother will be more than interested. She owns stock in 

your company. This will be an eye-opener for her. She may even

decide her investment was unwise. I've been telling her for years 

there's a lot of waste motion in companies like yours. This proves it. 

The newspapers might like these pictures, too." 

"It does look like it, doesn't it? I'd think the same thing in your 

position. But this is a unique situation, . . ." and Dean Woodcock 

went on to explain how this was the first job of this type for his 

department and how everybody from executives down was 

interested. He assured the man that under normal conditions two 

people could handle the job. The photographer put away his camera, 

shook Woodcock's hand, and thanked him for taking the time to 

explain the situation to him. 

Dean Woodcock's friendly approach saved his company much 

embarrassment and bad publicity. 

Another member of one of our classes, Gerald H. Winn of Littleton, 

New Hampshire, reported how by using a friendly approach, he 

obtained a very satisfactory settlement on a damage claim. 

"Early in the spring," he reported, "before the ground had thawed 

from the winter freezing, there was an unusually heavy rainstorm 

and the water, which normally would have run off to nearby ditches 

and storm drains along the road, took a new course onto a building 

lot where I had just built a new home. 

"Not being able to run off, the water pressure built up around the 

foundation of the house. The water forced itself under the concrete 

basement floor, causing it to explode, and the basement filled with 

water. This ruined the furnace and the hot-water heater. The cost to 

repair this damage was in excess of two thousand dollars. I had no 

insurance to cover this type of damage. 

"However, I soon found out that the owner of the subdivision had 

neglected to put in a storm drain near the house which could have 

prevented this problem I made an appointment to see him. During 

the twenty-five-mile trip to his office, I carefully reviewed the 

situation and, remembering the principles I learned in this course, I 

decided that showing my anger would not serve any worthwhile 

purpose, When I arrived, I kept very calm and started by talking 

about his recent vacation to the West Indies; then, when I felt the 

timing was right, I mentioned the 'little' problem of water damage. 

He quickly agreed to do his share in helping to correct the problem. 

"A few days later he called and said he would pay for the damage 

and also put in a storm drain to prevent the same thing from 

happening in the future.

"Even though it was the fault of the owner of the subdivision, if I had 

not begun in a friendly way, there would have been a great deal of 

difficulty in getting him to agree to the total liability." 

Years ago, when I was a barefoot boy walking through the woods to 

a country school out in northwest Missouri, I read a fable about the 

sun and the wind. They quarreled about which was the stronger, and 

the wind said, "I'll prove I am. See the old man down there with a 

coat? I bet I can get his coat off him quicker than you can." 

So the sun went behind a cloud, and the wind blew until it was 

almost a tornado, but the harder it blew, the tighter the old man 

clutched his coat to him. 

Finally, the wind calmed down and gave up, and then the sun came 

out from behind the clouds and smiled kindly on the old man. 

Presently, he mopped his brow and pulled off his coat. The sun then 

told the wind that gentleness and friendliness were always stronger 

than fury and force. 

The use of gentleness and friendliness is demonstrated day after day 

by people who have learned that a drop of honey catches more flies 

than a gallon of gall. F. Gale Connor of Lutherville, Maryland, proved 

this when he had to take his four-month-old car to the service 

department of the car dealer for the third time. He told our class: "It 

was apparent that talking to, reasoning with or shouting at the 

service manager was not going to lead to a satisfactory resolution of 

my problems. 

"I walked over to the showroom and asked to see the agency owner, 

Mr. White. After a short wait, I was ushered into Mr. White's office. I 

introduced myself and explained to him that I had bought my car 

from his dealership because of the recommendations of friends who 

had had previous dealings with him. I was told that his prices were 

very competitive and his service was outstanding. He smiled with 

satisfaction as he listened to me. I then explained the problem I was 

having with the service department. 'I thought you might want to be 

aware of any situation that might tarnish your fine reputation,' I 

added. He thanked me for calling this to his attention and assured 

me that my problem would be taken care of. Not only did he 

personal get involved, but he also lent me his car to use while mine 

was being repaired." 

Aesop was a Greek slave who lived at the court of Croesus and spun 

immortal fables six hundred years before Christ. Yet the truths he 

taught about human nature are just as true in Boston and 

Birmingham now as they were twenty-six centuries ago in Athens. 

The sun can make you take off your coat more quickly than the 

wind; and kindliness, the friendly approach and appreciation can

make people change their minds more readily than all the bluster 

and storming in the world. 

Remember what Lincoln said: "A drop of honey catches more flies 

than a gallon of gall." 

• Principle 4 - Begin in a friendly way. 

~~~~~~~ 

5 - The Secret Of Socrates 

In talking with people, don't begin by discussing the things on which 

you differ. Begin by emphasizing - and keep on emphasizing - the 

things on which you agree. Keep emphasizing, if possible, that you 

are both striving for the same end and that your only difference is 

one of method and not of purpose. 

Get the other person saying "Yes, yes" at the outset. Keep your 

opponent, if possible, from saying "No." A "No" response, according 

to Professor Overstreet, (*) is a most difficult handicap to overcome. 

When you have said "No," all your pride of personality demands that 

you remain consistent with yourself. You may later feel that the "No" 

was ill-advised; nevertheless, there is your precious pride to 

consider! Once having said a thing, you feel you must stick to it. 

Hence it is of the very greatest importance that a person be started 

in the affirmative direction. 

---- 

[*] Harry A. Overstreet, lnfluencing Humun Behavior (New York: 

Norton, 1925). 

---- 

The skillful speaker gets, at the outset, a number of "Yes" responses. 

This sets the psychological process of the listeners moving in the 

affirmative direction. It is like the movement of a billiard ball. Propel 

in one direction, and it takes some force to deflect it; far more force 

to send it back in the opposite direction. 

The psychological patterns here are quite clear. When a person says 

"No" and really means it, he or she is doing far more than saying a 

word of two letters. The entire organism - glandular, nervous, 

muscular -gathers itself together into a condition of rejection. There 

is, usually in minute but sometimes in observable degree, a physical 

withdrawal or readiness for withdrawal. The whole neuromuscular 

system, in short, sets itself on guard against acceptance. When, to 

the contrary, a person says "Yes," none of the withdrawal activities 

takes place. The organism is in a forward - moving, accepting, open

attitude. Hence the more "Yeses" we can, at the very outset, induce, 

the more likely we are to succeed in capturing the attention for our 

ultimate proposal. 

It is a very simple technique - this yes response. And yet, how much 

it is neglected! It often seems as if people get a sense of their own 

importance by antagonizing others at the outset. 

Get a student to say "No" at the beginning, or a customer, child, 

husband, or wife, and it takes the wisdom and the patience of angels 

to transform that bristling negative into an affirmative. 

The use of this "yes, yes" technique enabled James Eberson, who 

was a teller in the Greenwich Savings Bank, in New York City, to 

secure a prospective customer who might otherwise have been lost. 

"This man came in to open an account," said Mr. Eberson, "and I 

gave him our usual form to fill out. Some of the questions he 

answered willingly, but there were others he flatly refused to answer. 

"Before I began the study of human relations, I would have told this 

prospective depositor that if he refused to give the bank this 

information, we should have to refuse to accept this account. I am 

ashamed that I have been guilty of doing that very thing in the past. 

Naturally, an ultimatum like that made me feel good. I had shown 

who was boss, that the bank's rules and regulations couldn't be 

flouted. But that sort of attitude certainly didn't give a feeling of 

welcome and importance to the man who had walked in to give us 

his patronage. 

"I resolved this morning to use a little horse sense. I resolved not to 

talk about what the bank wanted but about what the customer 

wanted. And above all else, I was determined to get him saying 'yes, 

yes' from the very start. So I agreed with him. I told him the 

information he refused to give was not absolutely necessary. 

" 'However,' I said, 'suppose you have money in this bank at your 

death. Wouldn't you like to have the bank transfer it to your next of 

kin, who is entitled to it according to law?' 

" 'Yes, of course,' he replied. 

" 'Don't you think,' I continued, 'that it would be a good idea to give 

us the name of your next of kin so that, in the event of your death, 

we could carry out your wishes without error or delay?' 

"Again he said, 'Yes.' 

"The young man's attitude softened and changed when he realized 

that we weren't asking for this information for our sake but for his

sake. Before leaving the bank, this young man not only gave me 

complete information about himself but he opened, at my 

suggestion, a trust account, naming his mother as the beneficiary for 

his account, and he had gladly answered all the questions concerning 

his mother also. 

"I found that by getting him to say 'yes, yes' from the outset, he 

forgot the issue at stake and was happy to do all the things I 

suggested." 

Joseph Allison, a sales representative for Westinghouse Electric 

Company, had this story to tell: "There was a man in my territory 

that our company was most eager to sell to. My predecessor had 

called on him for ten years without selling anything When I took over 

the territory, I called steadily for three years without getting an 

order. Finally, after thirteen years of calls and sales talk, we sold him 

a few motors. If these proved to be all right, an order for several 

hundred more would follow. Such was my expectation, 

"Right? I knew they would be all right. So when I called three weeks 

later, I was in high spirits. 

"The chief engineer greeted me with this shocking announcement: 

'Allison, I can't buy the remainder of the motors from you.' 

" 'Why?' I asked in amazement. 'Why?' 

" 'Because your motors are too hot. I can't put my hand on them,' 

"I knew it wouldn't do any good to argue. I had tried that sort of 

thing too long. So I thought of getting the 'yes, yes' response. 

" 'Well, now look, Mr. Smith,' I said. 'I agree with you a hundred 

percent; if those motors are running too hot, you ought not to buy 

any more of them. You must have motors that won't run any hotter 

than standards set by the National Electrical Manufacturers 

Association. Isn't that so?' 

"He agreed it was. I had gotten my first 'yes.' 

" 'The Electrical Manufacturers Association regulations say that a 

properly designed motor may have a temperature of 72 degrees 

Fahrenheit above room temperature. Is that correct?' 

" 'Yes,' he agreed. 'That's quite correct. But your motors are much 

hotter.' 

"I didn't argue with him. I merely asked: 'How hot is the mill room?' 

" 'Oh,' he said, 'about 75 degrees Fahrenheit.'

" 'Well,' I replied, 'if the mill room is 75 degrees and you add 72 to 

that, that makes a total of 147 degrees Fahrenheit. Wouldn't you 

scald your hand if you held it under a spigot of hot water at a 

temperature of 147 degrees Fahrenheit?' 

"Again he had to say 'yes.' 

" 'Well,' I suggested, 'wouldn't it he a good idea to keep your hands 

off those motors?' 

" 'Well, I guess you're right,' he admitted. We continued to chat for a 

while. Then he called his secretary and lined up approximately 

$35,000 worth of business for the ensuing month. 

"It took me years and cost me countless thousands of dollars in lost 

business before I finally learned that it doesn't pay to argue, that it is 

much more profitable and much more interesting to look at things 

from the other person's viewpoint and try to get that person saying 

'yes, yes.' " 

Eddie Snow, who sponsors our courses in Oakland, California, tells 

how he became a good customer of a shop because the proprietor 

got him to say "yes, yes." Eddie had become interested in bow 

hunting and had spent considerable money in purchasing equipment 

and supplies from a local bow store. When his brother was visiting 

him he wanted to rent a bow for him from this store. The sales clerk 

told him they didn't rent bows, so Eddie phoned another bow store. 

Eddie described what happened: 

"A very pleasant gentleman answered the phone. His response to my 

question for a rental was completely different from the other place. 

He said he was sorry but they no longer rented bows because they 

couldn't afford to do so. He then asked me if I had rented before. I 

replied, 'Yes, several years ago.' He reminded me that I probably 

paid $25 to $30 for the rental. I said 'yes' again. He then asked if I 

was the kind of person who liked to save money. Naturally, I 

answered 'yes.' He went on to explain that they had bow sets with all 

the necessary equipment on sale for $34.95. I could buy a complete 

set for only $4.95 more than I could rent one. He explained that is 

why they had discontinued renting them. Did I think that was 

reasonable? My 'yes' response led to a purchase of the set, and 

when I picked it up I purchased several more items at this shop and 

have since become a regular customer." 

Socrates, "the gadfly of Athens," was one of the greatest 

philosophers the world has ever known. He did something that only a 

handful of men in all history have been able to do: he sharply 

changed the whole course of human thought; and now, twenty-four

centuries after his death, he is honored as one of the wisest 

persuaders who ever influenced this wrangling world. 

His method? Did he tell people they were wrong? Oh, no, not 

Socrates. He was far too adroit for that. His whole technique, now 

called the "Socratic method," was based upon getting a "yes, yes" 

response. He asked questions with which his opponent would have 

to agree. He kept on winning one admission after another until he 

had an armful of yeses. He kept on asking questions until finally, 

almost without realizing it, his opponents found themselves 

embracing a conclusion they would have bitterly denied a few 

minutes previously. 

The next time we are tempted to tell someone he or she is wrong, 

let's remember old Socrates and ask a gentle question - a question 

that will get the "yes, yes" response. 

The Chinese have a proverb pregnant with the age-old wisdom of 

the Orient: "He who treads softly goes far." 

They have spent five thousand years studying human nature, those 

cultured Chinese, and they have garnered a lot of perspicacity: "He 

who treads softly goes far." 

• Principle 5 - Get the other person saying "yes, yes" immediately. 

~~~~~~~ 

6 - The Safety Valve In Handling Complaints 

Must people trying to win others to their way of thinking do too 

much talking themselves. Let the other people talk themselves out. 

They know more about their business and problems than you do. So 

ask them questions. Let them tell you a few things. 

If you disagree with them you may be tempted to interrupt. But 

don't. It is dangerous. They won't pay attention to you while they 

still have a lot of ideas of their own crying for expression. So listen 

patiently and with an open mind. Be sincere about it. Encourage 

them to express their ideas fully. 

Does this policy pay in business? Let's see. Here is the story of a 

sales representative who was forced to try it. 

One of the largest automobile manufacturers in the United States 

was negotiating for a year's requirements of upholstery fabrics. 

Three important manufacturers had worked up fabrics in sample 

bodies. These had all been inspected by the executives of the motor 

company, and notice had been sent to each manufacturer saying

that, on a certain day, a representative from each supplier would be 

given an opportunity to make a final plea for the contract. 

G.B.R., a representative of one manufacturer, arrived in town with a 

severe attack of laryngitis. "When it came my turn to meet the 

executives in conference," Mr. R---- said as he related the story 

before one of my classes, "I had lost my voice. I could hardly 

whisper. I was ushered into a room and found myself face to face 

with the textile engineer, the purchasing agent, the director of sales 

and the president of the company. I stood up and made a valiant 

effort to speak, but I couldn't do anything more than squeak. 

"They were all seated around a table, so I wrote on a pad of paper: 

'Gentlemen, I have lost my voice. I am speechless.' 

" 'I'll do the talking for you,' the president said. He did. He exhibited 

my samples and praised their good points. A lively discussion arose 

about the merits of my goods. And the president, since he was 

talking for me, took the position I would have had during the 

discussion My sole participation consisted of smiles, nods and a few 

gestures. 

"As a result of this unique conference, I was awarded the contract, 

which called for over half a million yards of upholstery fabrics at an 

aggregate value of $1,600,000 -the biggest order I had ever 

received. 

"I know I would have lost the contract if I hadn't lost my voice, 

because I had the wrong idea about the whole proposition. I 

discovered, quite by accident, how richly it sometimes pays to let the 

other person do the talking.' 

Letting the other person do the talking helps in family situations as 

well as in business. Barbara Wilson's relationship with her daughter, 

Laurie, was deteriorating rapidly. Laurie, who had been a quiet, 

complacent child, had grown into an uncooperative, sometimes 

belligerent teenager. Mrs. Wilson lectured her, threatened her and 

punished her, but all to no avail. 

"One day," Mrs. Wilson told one of our classes, "I just gave up. 

Laurie had disobeyed me and had left the house to visit her girl 

friend before she had completed her chores. When she returned I 

was about to scream at her for the ten-thousandth time, but I just 

didn't have the strength to do it. I just looked at her and said sadly, 

'Why, Laurie, Why?' 

"Laurie noted my condition and in a calm voice asked, 'Do you really 

want to know?' I nodded and Laurie told me, first hesitantly, and 

then it all flowed out. I had never listened to her. I was always 

telling her to do this or that. When she wanted to tell me her

thoughts, feelings, ideas, I interrupted with more orders. I began to 

realize that she needed me - not as a bossy mother, but as a 

confidante, an outlet for all her confusion about growing up. And all I 

had been doing was talking when I should have been listening. I 

never heard her. 

"From that time on I let her do all the talking she wanted. She tells 

me what is on her mind, and our relationship has improved 

immeasurably. She is again a cooperative person." 

A large advertisement appeared on the financial page of a New York 

newspaper calling for a person with unusual ability and experience. 

Charles T. Cubellis answered the advertisement, sending his reply to 

a box number. A few days later, he was invited by letter to call for an 

interview. Before he called, he spent hours in Wall Street finding out 

everything possible about the person who had founded the business. 

During the interview, he remarked: "I should be mighty proud to be 

associated with an organization with a record like yours. I 

understand you started twenty-eight years ago with nothing but desk 

room and one stenographer. Is that true?" 

Almost every successful person likes to reminisce about his early 

struggles. This man was no exception. He talked for a long time 

about how he had started with $450 in cash and an original idea. He 

told how he had fought against discouragement and battled against 

ridicule, working Sundays and holidays, twelve to sixteen hours a 

day; how he had finally won against all odds until now the most 

important executives on Wall Street were coming to him for 

information and guidance. He was proud of such a record. He had a 

right to be, and he had a splendid time telling about it. Finally, he 

questioned Mr. Cubellis briefly about his experience, then called in 

one of his vice presidents and said: "I think this is the person we are 

looking for." 

Mr. Cubellis had taken the trouble to find out about the 

accomplishments of his prospective employer. He showed an interest 

in the other person and his problems. He encouraged the other 

person to do most of the talking - and made a favorable impression. 

Roy G. Bradley of Sacramento, California, had the opposite problem. 

He listened as a good prospect for a sales position talked himself into 

a job with Bradley's firm, Roy reported: 

"Being a small brokerage firm, we had no fringe benefits, such as 

hospitalization, medical insurance and pensions. Every representative 

is an independent agent. We don't even provide leads for prospects, 

as we cannot advertise for them as our larger competitors do. 

"Richard Pryor had the type of experience we wanted for this 

position, and he was interviewed first by my assistant, who told him

about all the negatives related to this job. He seemed slightly 

discouraged when he came into my office. I mentioned the one 

benefit of being associated with my firm, that of being an 

independent contractor and therefore virtually being self-employed. 

"As he talked about these advantages to me, he talked himself out of 

each negative thought he had when he came in for the interview. 

Several times it seemed as though he was half talking to himself as 

he was thinking through each thought. At times I was tempted to 

add to his thoughts; however, as the interview came to a close I felt 

he had convinced himself, very much on his own, that he would like 

to work for my firm. 

"Because I had been a good listener and let Dick do most of the 

talking, he was able to weigh both sides fairly in his mind, and he 

came to the positive conclusion, which was a challenge he created 

for himself. We hired him and he has been an outstanding 

representative for our firm," 

Even our friends would much rather talk to us about their 

achievements than listen to us boast about ours. La Rochefoucauld, 

the French philosopher, said: "If you want enemies, excel your 

friends; but if you want friends, let your friends excel you." 

Why is that true? Because when our friends excel us, they feel 

important; but when we excel them, they - or at least some of them 

- will feel inferior and envious. 

By far the best-liked placement counselor in the Mid-town Personnel 

Agency in New York City was Henrietta G ---- It hadn't always been 

that way. During the first few months of her association with the 

agency, Henrietta didn't have a single friend among her colleagues. 

Why? Because every day she would brag about the placements she 

had made, the new accounts she had opened, and anything else she 

had accomplished. 

"I was good at my work and proud of it," Henrietta told one of our 

classes. " But instead of my colleagues sharing my triumphs, they 

seemed to resent them. I wanted to be liked by these people. I really 

wanted them to be my friends. After listening to some of the 

suggestions made in this course, I started to talk about myself less 

and listen more to my associates. They also had things to boast 

about and were more excited about telling me about their 

accomplishments than about listening to my boasting. Now, when we 

have some time to chat, I ask them to share their joys with me, and 

I only mention my achievements when they ask." 

• Principle 6 Let the other person do a great deal of the talking. 

~~~~~~~

7 - How To Get Cooperation 

Don't you have much more faith in ideas that you discover for 

yourself than in ideas that are handed to you on a silver platter? If 

so, isn't it bad judgment to try to ram your opinions down the 

throats of other people? Isn't it wiser to make suggestions - and let 

the other person think out the conclusion? 

Adolph Seltz of Philadelphia, sales manager in an automobile 

showroom and a student in one of my courses, suddenly found 

himself confronted with the necessity of injecting enthusiasm into a 

discouraged and disorganized group of automobile salespeople. 

Calling a sales meeting, he urged his people to tell him exactly what 

they expected from him. As they talked, he wrote their ideas on the 

blackboard. He then said: "I'll give you all these qualities you expect 

from me. Now I want you to tell me what I have a right to expect 

from you." The replies came quick and fast: loyalty, honesty, 

initiative, optimism, teamwork, eight hours a day of enthusiastic 

work, The meeting ended with a new courage, a new inspiration - 

one salesperson volunteered to work fourteen hours a day - and Mr. 

Seltz reported to me that the increase of sales was phenomenal. 

"The people had made a sort of moral bargain with me, " said Mr. 

Seltz, "and as long as I lived up to my part in it, they were 

determined to live up to theirs. Consulting them about their wishes 

and desires was just the shot in the arm they needed." 

No one likes to feel that he or she is being sold some-thing or told to 

do a thing. We much prefer to feel that we are buying of our own 

accord or acting on our own ideas. We like to be consulted about our 

wishes, our wants, our thoughts. 

Take the case of Eugene Wesson. He lost countless thousands of 

dollars in commissions before he learned this truth. Mr. Wesson sold 

sketches for a studio that created designs for stylists and textile 

manufacturers. Mr. Wesson had called on one of the leading stylists 

in New York once a week, every week for three years. "He never 

refused to see me," said Mr. Wesson, "but he never bought. He 

always looked over my sketches very carefully and then said: 'No, 

Wesson, I guess we don't get together today.' " 

After 150 failures, Wesson realized he must be in a mental rut, so he 

resolved to devote one evening a week to the study of influencing 

human behavior, to help him develop new ideas and generate new 

enthusiasm. 

He decided on this new approach. With half a dozen unfinished 

artists' sketches under his arm, he rushed over to the buyer's office. 

"I want you to do me a little favor, if you will," he said. "'Here are

some uncompleted sketches. Won't you please tell me how we could 

finish them up in such a way that you could use them?" 

The buyer looked at the sketches for a while without uttering a word. 

Finally he said: "Leave these with me for a few days, Wesson, and 

then come back and see me." 

Wesson returned three davs later, got his suggestions, took the 

sketches back to the studio and had them finished according to the 

buyer's ideas. The result? All accepted. 

After that, this buyer ordered scores of other sketches from Wesson, 

all drawn according to the buyer's ideas. "I realized why I had failed 

for years to sell him," said Mr. Wesson. " I had urged him to buy 

what I thought he ought to have. Then I changed my approach 

completely. I urged him to give me his ideas. This made him feel 

that he was creating the designs. And he was. I didn't have to sell 

him. He bought." 

Letting the other person feel that the idea is his or hers not only 

works in business and politics, it works in family life as well. Paul M. 

Davis of Tulsa, Oklahoma, told his class how he applied this 

principle: 

"My family and I enjoyed one of the most interesting sightseeing 

vacation trips we have ever taken. I had long dreamed of visiting 

such historic sites as the Civil War battlefield in Gettysburg, 

Independence Hall in Philadelphia, and our nation's capital. Valley 

Forge, James-town and the restored colonial village of Williamsburg 

were high on the list of things I wanted to see. 

"In March my wife, Nancy, mentioned that she had ideas for our 

summer vacation which included a tour of the western states, visiting 

points of interest in New Mexico, Arizona, California and Nevada. She 

had wanted to make this trip for several years. But we couldn't 

obviously make both trips. 

"Our daughter, Anne, had just completed a course in U.S. history in 

junior high school and had become very interested in the events that 

had shaped our country's growth. I asked her how she would like to 

visit the places she had learned about on our next vacation. She said 

she would love to. 

"Two evenings later as we sat around the dinner table, Nancy 

announced that if we all agreed, the summer's vacation would be to 

the eastern states, that it would he a great trip for Anne and thrilling 

for all of us. We all concurred." 

This same psychology was used by an X-ray manufacturer to sell his 

equipment to one of the largest hospitals in Brooklyn This hospital

was building an addition and preparing to equip it with the finest Xray 

department in America. Dr. L----, who was in charge of the X-ray 

department, was overwhelmed with sales representatives, each 

caroling the praises of his own company's equipment. 

One manufacturer, however, was more skillful. He knew far more 

about handling human nature than the others did. He wrote a letter 

something like this: 

Our factory has recently completed a new line of X-ray equipment. 

The first shipment of these machines has just arrived at our office. 

They are not perfect. We know that, and we want to improve them. 

So we should be deeply obligated to you if you could find time to 

look them over and give us your ideas about how they can be made 

more serviceable to your profession. Knowing how occupied you are, 

I shall be glad to send my car for you at any hour you specify. 

"I was surprised to get that letter," Dr. L ---- said as he related the 

incident before the class. "I was both surprised and complimented. I 

had never had an X-ray manufacturer seeking my advice before. It 

made me feel important. I was busy every night that week, but I 

canceled a dinner appointment in order to look over the equipment. 

The more I studied it, the more I discovered for myself how much I 

liked it. 

"Nobody had tried to sell it to me. I felt that the idea of buying that 

equipment for the hospital was my own. I sold myself on its superior 

qualities and ordered it installed." 

Ralph Waldo Emerson in his essay "Self-Reliance" stated: "In every 

work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts; they come 

back to us with a certain alienated majesty." 

Colonel Edward M. House wielded an enormous influence in national 

and international affairs while Woodrow Wilson occupied the White 

House. Wilson leaned upon Colonel House for secret counsel and 

advice more than he did upon even members of his own cabinet. 

What method did the Colonel use in influencing the President? 

Fortunately, we know, for House himself revealed it to Arthur D. 

Howden Smith, and Smith quoted House in an article in The 

Saturday Evening Post. 

" 'After I got to know the President,' House said, 'I learned the best 

way to convert him to an idea was to plant it in his mind casually, 

but so as to interest him in it - so as to get him thinking about it on 

his own account. The first time this worked it was an accident. I had 

been visiting him at the White House and urged a policy on him 

which he appeared to disapprove. But several days later, at the

dinner table, I was amazed to hear him trot out my suggestion as his 

own.' " 

Did House interrupt him and say, "That's not your idea. That's mine" 

? Oh, no. Not House. He was too adroit for that. He didn't care about 

credit. He wanted results. So he let Wilson continue to feel that the 

idea was his. House did even more than that. He gave Wilson public 

credit for these ideas. 

Let's remember that everyone we come in contact with is just as 

human as Woodrow Wilson. So let's use Colonel House's technique. 

A man up in the beautiful Canadian province of New Brunswick used 

this technique on me and won my patronage. I was planning at the 

time to do some fishing and canoeing in New Brunswick. So I wrote 

the tourist bureau for information. Evidently my name and address 

were put on a mailing list, for I was immediately overwhelmed with 

scores of letters and booklets and printed testimonials from camps 

and guides. I was bewildered. I didn't know which to choose. Then 

one camp owner did a clever thing. He sent me the names and 

telephone numbers of several New York people who had stayed at 

his camp and he invited me to telephone them and discover for 

myself what he had to offer. 

I found to my surprise that I knew one of the men on his list. I 

telephoned him, found out what his experience had been, and then 

wired the camp the date of my arrival. 

The others had been trying to sell me on their service, but one let 

me sell myself. That organization won. Twenty-five centuries ago, 

Lao-tse, a Chinese sage, said some things that readers of this book 

might use today: 

" The reason why rivers and seas receive the homage of a hundred 

mountain streams is that they keep below them. Thus they are able 

to reign over all the mountain streams. So the sage, wishing to be 

above men, putteth himself below them; wishing to be before them, 

he putteth himself behind them. Thus, though his place be above 

men, they do not feel his weight; though his place be before them, 

they do not count it an injury." 

• Principle 7 - Let the other person feel that the idea is his or hers. 

~~~~~~~ 

8 - A Formula That Will Work Wonders For You 

Remember that other people may be totally wrong. But they don't 

think so. Don't condemn them. Any fool can do that. Try to

understand them. Only wise, tolerant, exceptional people even try to 

do that. 

There is a reason why the other man thinks and acts as he does. 

Ferret out that reason - and you have the key to his actions, perhaps 

to his personality. Try honestly to put yourself in his place. 

If you say to yourself, "How would I feel, how would I react if I were 

in his shoes?" you will save yourself time and irritation, for "by 

becoming interested in the cause, we are less likely to dislike the 

effect." And, in addition, you will sharply increase your skill in human 

relationships. 

"Stop a minute," says Kenneth M. Goode in his book How to Turn 

People Into Gold, "stop a minute to contrast your keen interest in 

your own affairs with your mild concern about anything else. Realize 

then, that everybody else in the world feels exactly the same way! 

Then, along with Lincoln and Roosevelt, you will have grasped the 

only solid foundation for interpersonal relationships; namely, that 

success in dealing with people depends on a sympathetic grasp of 

the other persons' viewpoint." 

Sam Douglas of Hempstead, New York, used to tell his wife that she 

spent too much time working on their lawn, pulling weeds, fertilizing, 

cutting the grass twice a week when the lawn didn't look any better 

than it had when they moved into their home four years earlier. 

Naturally, she was distressed by his remarks, and each time he made 

such remarks the balance of the evening was ruined. 

After taking our course, Mr. Douglas realized how foolish he had 

been all those years. It never occurred to him that she enjoyed doing 

that work and she might really appreciate a compliment on her 

diligence. 

One evening after dinner, his wife said she wanted to pull some 

weeds and invited him to keep her company. He first declined, but 

then thought better of it and went out after her and began to help 

her pull weeds. She was visibly pleased, and together they spent an 

hour in hard work and pleasant conversation. 

After that he often helped her with the gardening and complimented 

her on how fine the lawn looked, what a fantastic job she was doing 

with a yard where the soil was like concrete. Result: a happier life for 

both because he had learned to look at things from her point of view 

- even if the subject was only weeds. 

In his book Getting Through to People, Dr. Gerald S. Nirenberg 

commented: "Cooperativeeness in conversation is achieved when 

you show that you consider the other person's ideas and feelings as 

important as your own. Starting your conversation by giving the

other person the purpose or direction of your conversation, 

governing what you say by what you would want to hear if you were 

the listener, and accepting his or her viewpoint will encourage the 

listener to have an open mind to your ideas." (*) 

---- 

[*] Dr Gerald S. Nirenberg, Getting Through to People (Englewood 

Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1963), p. 31. 

---- 

I have always enjoyed walking and riding in a park near my home. 

Like the Druids of ancient Gaul, I all but worship an oak tree, so I 

was distressed season after season to see the young trees and 

shrubs killed off by needless fires. These fires weren't caused by 

careless smokers. They were almost all caused by youngsters who 

went out to the park to go native and cook a frankfurter or an egg 

under the trees. Sometimes, these fires raged so fiercely that the fire 

department had to be called out to fight the conflagration. 

There was a sign on the edge of the park saying that anyone who 

started a fire was liable to fine and imprisonment, but the sign stood 

in an unfrequented part of the park, and few of the culprits ever saw 

it. A mounted policeman was supposed to look after the park; but he 

didn't take his duties too seriously, and the fires continued to spread 

season after season. On one occasion, I rushed up to a policeman 

and told him about a fire spreading rapidly through the park and 

wanted him to notify the fire department, and he nonchalantly 

replied that it was none of his business because it wasn't in his 

precinct! I was desperate, so after that when I went riding, I acted 

as a self-appointed committee of one to protect the public domain. 

In the beginning, I am afraid I didn't even attempt to see the other 

people's point of view. When I saw a fire blazing under the trees, I 

was so unhappy about it, so eager to do the right thing, that I did 

the wrong thing. I would ride up to the boys, warn them that they 

could be jailed for starting a fire, order with a tone of authority that 

it be put out; and, if they refused, I would threaten to have them 

arrested. I was merely unloading my feelings without thinking of 

their point of view. 

The result? They obeyed - obeyed sullenly and with resentment. 

After I rode on over the hill, they probably rebuilt the fire and longed 

to burn up the whole park. 

With the passing of the years, I acquired a trifle more knowledge of 

human relations, a little more tact, a somewhat greater tendency to 

see things from the other person's standpoint. Then, instead of 

giving orders, I would ride up to a blazing fire and begin something 

like this:

"Having a good time, boys? What are you going to cook for supper? 

... I loved to build fires myself when I was a boy - and I still love to. 

But you know they are very dangerous here in the park. I know you 

boys don't mean to do any harm, but other boys aren't so careful. 

They come along and see that you have built a fire; so they build 

one and don't put it out when they go home and it spreads among 

the dry leaves and kills the trees. We won't have any trees here at all 

if we aren't more careful, You could be put in jail for building this 

fire. But I don't want to be bossy and interfere with your pleasure. I 

like to see you enjoy yourselves; but won't you please rake all the 

leaves away from the fire right now - and you'll be careful to cover it 

with dirt, a lot of dirt, before you leave, won't you? And the next 

time you want to have some fun, won't you please build your fire 

over the hill there in the sandpit? It can't do any harm there.. . . 

Thanks so much, boys. Have a good time." 

What a difference that kind of talk made! It made the boys want to 

cooperate. No sullenness, no resentment. They hadn't been forced to 

obey orders. They had saved their faces. They felt better and I felt 

better because I had handled the situation with consideration for 

their point of view. 

Seeing things through another person's eyes may ease tensions 

when personal problems become overwhelming. Elizabeth Novak of 

New South Wales, Australia, was six weeks late with her car 

payment. "On a Friday," she reported, "I received a nasty phone call 

from the man who was handling my account informing me if I did 

not come up with $122 by Monday morning I could anticipate further 

action from the company. I had no way of raising the money over 

the weekend, so when I received his phone call first thing on Monday 

morning I expected the worst. Instead of becoming upset I looked at 

the situation from his point of view. I apologized most sincerely for 

causing him so much inconvenience and remarked that I must be his 

most troublesome customer as this was not the first time I was 

behind in my payments. His tone of voice changed immediately, and 

he reassured me that I was far from being one of his really 

troublesome customers. He went on to tell me several examples of 

how rude his customers sometimes were, how they lied to him and 

often tried to avoid talking to him at all. I said nothing. I listened and 

let him pour out his troubles to me. Then, without any suggestion 

from me, he said it did not matter if I couldn't pay all the money 

immediately. It would be all right if I paid him $20 by the end of the 

month and made up the balance whenever it was convenient for me 

to do so." 

Tomorrow, before asking anyone to put out a fire or buy your 

product or contribute to your favorite charity, why not pause and 

close your eyes and try to think the whole thing through from 

another person's point of view? Ask yourself: "Why should he or she

want to do it?" True, this will take time, but it will avoid making 

enemies and will get better results - and with less friction and less 

shoe leather. 

"I would rather walk the sidewalk in front of a person's office for two 

hours before an interview," said Dean Donham of the Harvard 

business school, "than step into that office without a perfectly clear 

idea of what I was going to say and what that person - from my 

knowledge of his or her interests and motives - was likely to 

answer." 

That is so important that I am going to repeat it in italics for the sake 

of emphasis. 

I would rather walk the sidewalk in front of a person's office for two 

hours before an interview than step into that office without a 

perfectly clear idea of what I was going to say and what that persob 

- from my knowledge of his or her interests and motives - was likely 

to answer. 

If, as a result of reading this book, you get only one thing - an 

increased tendency to think always in terms of the other person's 

point of view, and see things from that person's angle as well as 

your own - if you get only that one thing from this book, it may 

easily prove to be one of the stepping - stones of your career. 

• Principle 8 - Try honestly to see things from the other person's 

point of view. 

~~~~~~~ 

9 - What Everybody Wants 

Wouldn't you like to have a magic phrase that would stop 

arguments, eliminate ill feeling, create good will, and make the other 

person listen attentively? 

Yes? All right. Here it is: "I don't blame you one iota for feeling as 

you do. If I were you I would undoubtedly feel just as you do." 

An answer like that will soften the most cantankerous old cuss alive. 

And you can say that and be 100 percent sincere, because if you 

were the other person you, of course, would feel just as he does. 

Take Al Capone, for example. Suppose you had inherited the same 

body and temperament and mind that Al Capone had. Suppose you 

had had his environment and experiences. You would then be 

precisely what he was - and where he was. For it is those things - 

and only those things - that made him what he was. The only 

reason, for example, that you are not a rattlesnake is that your 

mother and father weren't rattlesnakes.

You deserve very little credit for being what you are - and 

remember, the people who come to you irritated, bigoted, 

unreasoning, deserve very little discredit for being what they are. 

Feel sorry for the poor devils. Pity them. Sympathize with them. Say 

to yourself: "There, but for the grace of God, go I." 

Three-fourths of the people you will ever meet are hungering and 

thirsting for sympathy. Give it to them, and they will love you. 

I once gave a broadcast about the author of Little Women, Louisa 

May Alcott. Naturally, I knew she had lived and written her immortal 

books in Concord, Massachusetts. But, without thinking what I was 

saying, I spoke of visiting her old home in Concord. New Hampshire. 

If I had said New Hampshire only once, it might have been forgiven. 

But, alas and alack! I said it twice, I was deluged with letters and 

telegrams, stinging messages that swirled around my defenseless 

head like a swarm of hornets. Many were indignant. A few insulting. 

One Colonial Dame, who had been reared in Concord, 

Massachusetts, and who was then living in Philadelphia, vented her 

scorching wrath upon me. She couldn't have been much more bitter 

if I had accused Miss Alcott of being a cannibal from New Guinea. As 

I read the letter, I said to myself, "Thank God, I am not married to 

that woman." I felt like writing and telling her that although I had 

made a mistake in geography, she had made a far greater mistake in 

common courtesy. That was to be just my opening sentence. Then I 

was going to roll up my sleeves and tell her what I really thought. 

But I didn't. I controlled myself. I realized that any hotheaded fool 

could do that - and that most fools would do just that. 

I wanted to be above fools. So I resolved to try to turn her hostility 

into friendliness. It would be a challenge, a sort of game I could 

play. I said to myself, "After all, if I were she, I would probably feel 

just as she does." So, I determined to sympathize with her 

viewpoint. The next time I was in Philadelphia, I called her on the 

telephone. The conversation went something like this: 

ME: Mrs. So-and-So, you wrote me a letter a few weeks ago, and I 

want to thank you for it. 

SHE: (in incisive, cultured, well-bred tones): To whom have I the 

honor of speaking? 

ME: I am a stranger to you. My name is Dale Carnegie. You listened 

to a broadcast I gave about Louisa May Alcott a few Sundays ago, 

and I made the unforgivable blunder of saying that she had lived in 

Concord, New Hampshire. It was a stupid blunder, and I want to 

apologize for it. It was so nice of you to take the time to write me.

SHE : I am sorry, Mr. Carnegie, that I wrote as I did. I lost my 

temper. I must apologize. 

ME: No! No! You are not the one to apologize; I am. Any school child 

would have known better than to have said what I said. I apologized 

over the air the following Sunday, and I want to apologize to you 

personally now. 

SHE : I was born in Concord, Massachusetts. My family has been 

prominent in Massachusetts affairs for two centuries, and I am very 

proud of my native state. I was really quite distressed to hear you 

say that Miss Alcott had lived in New Hampshire. But I am really 

ashamed of that letter. 

ME: I assure you that you were not one-tenth as distressed as I am. 

My error didn't hurt Massachusetts, but it did hurt me. It is so 

seldom that people of your standing and culture take the time to 

write people who speak on the radio, and I do hope you will write 

me again if you detect an error in my talks. 

SHE: You know, I really like very much the way you have accepted 

my criticism. You must be a very nice person. I should like to know 

you better. 

So, because I had apologized and sympathized with her point of 

view, she began apologizing and sympathizing with my point of view, 

I had the satisfaction of controlling my temper, the satisfaction of 

returning kindness for an insult. I got infinitely more real fun out of 

making her like me than I could ever have gotten out of telling her to 

go and take a jump in the Schuylkill River, 

Every man who occupies the White House is faced almost daily with 

thorny problems in human relations. President Taft was no 

exception, and he learned from experience the enormous chemical 

value of sympathy in neutralizing the acid of hard feelings. In his 

book Ethics in Service, Taft gives rather an amusing illustration of 

how he softened the ire of a disappointed and ambitious mother. 

"A lady in Washington," wrote Taft, "whose husband had some 

political influence, came and labored with me for six weeks or more 

to appoint her son to a position. She secured the aid of Senators and 

Congressmen in formidable number and came with them to see that 

they spoke with emphasis. The place was one requiring technical 

qualification, and following the recommendation of the head of the 

Bureau, I appointed somebody else. I then received a letter from the 

mother, saying that I was most ungrateful, since I declined to make 

her a happy woman as I could have done by a turn of my hand. She 

complained further that she had labored with her state delegation 

and got all the votes for an administration bill in which I was 

especially interested and this was the way I had rewarded her.

"When you get a letter like that, the first thing you do is to think how 

you can be severe with a person who has committed an impropriety, 

or even been a little impertinent. Then you may compose an answer. 

Then if you are wise, you will put the letter in a drawer and lock the 

drawer. Take it out in the course of two days - such communications 

will always bear two days' delay in answering - and when you take it 

out after that interval, you will not send it. That is just the course I 

took. After that, I sat down and wrote her just as polite a letter as I 

could, telling her I realized a mother's disappointment under such 

circumstances, but that really the appointment was not left to my 

mere personal preference, that I had to select a man with technical 

qualifications, and had, therefore, to follow the recommendations of 

the head of the Bureau. I expressed the hope that her son would go 

on to accomplish what she had hoped for him in the position which 

he then had. That mollified her and she wrote me a note saying she 

was sorry she had written as she had. 

"But the appointment I sent in was not confirmed at once, and after 

an interval I received a letter which purported to come from her 

husband, though it was in the the same handwriting as all the 

others. I was therein advised that, due to the nervous prostration 

that had followed her disappointment in this case, she had to take to 

her bed and had developed a most serious case of cancer of the 

stomach. Would I not restore her to health by withdrawing the first 

name and replacing it by her son's? I had to write another letter, this 

one to the husband, to say that I hoped the diagnosis would prove 

to be inaccurate, that I sympathized with him in the sorrow he must 

have in the serious illness of his wife, but that it was impossible to 

withdraw the name sent in. The man whom I appointed was 

confirmed, and within two days after I received that letter, we gave 

a musicale at the White House. The first two people to greet Mrs. 

Taft and me were this husband and wife, though the wife had so 

recently been in articulo mortis." 

Jay Mangum represented an elevator-escalator main-tenance 

company in Tulsa, Oklahoma, which had the maintenance contract 

for the escalators in one of Tulsa's leading hotels. The hotel manager 

did not want to shut down the escalator for more than two hours at 

a time because he did not want to inconvenience the hotel's guests. 

The repair that had to be made would take at least eight hours, and 

his company did not always have a specially qualified mechanic 

available at the convenience of the hotel. 

When Mr. Mangum was able to schedule a top-flight mechanic for 

this job, he telephoned the hotel manager and instead of arguing 

with him to give him the necessary time, he said: 

"Rick, I know your hotel is quite busy and you would like to keep the 

escalator shutdown time to a minimum. I understand your concern

about this, and we want to do everything possible to accommodate 

you. However, our diagnosis of the situation shows that if we do not 

do a complete job now, your escalator may suffer more serious 

damage and that would cause a much longer shutdown. I know you 

would not want to inconvenience your guests for several days." 

The manager had to agree that an eight-hour shut down was more 

desirable than several days'. By sympathizing with the manager's 

desire to keep his patrons happy, Mr. Mangum was able to win the 

hotel manager to his way of thinking easily and without rancor. 

Joyce Norris, a piano teacher in St, Louis, Missouri, told of how she 

had handled a problem piano teachers often have with teenage girls. 

Babette had exceptionally long fingernails. This is a serious handicap 

to anyone who wants to develop proper piano-playing habits. 

Mrs. Norris reported: "I knew her long fingernails would be a barrier 

for her in her desire to play well. During our discussions prior to her 

starting her lessons with me, I did not mention anything to her about 

her nails. I didn't want to discourage her from taking lessons, and I 

also knew she would not want to lose that which she took so much 

pride in and such great care to make attractive. 

"After her first lesson, when I felt the time was right, I said: 

'Babette, you have attractive hands and beautiful fingernails. If you 

want to play the piano as well as you are capable of and as well as 

you would like to, you would be surprised how much quicker and 

easier it would be for you, if you would trim your nails shorter. Just 

think about it, Okay?' She made a face which was definitely negative. 

I also talked to her mother about this situation, again mentioning 

how lovely her nails were. Another negative reaction. It was obvious 

that Babette's beautifully manicured nails were important to her. 

"The following week Babette returned for her second lesson. Much to 

my surprise, the fingernails had been trimmed. I complimented her 

and praised her for making such a sacrifice. I also thanked her 

mother for influencing Babette to cut her nails. Her reply was 'Oh, I 

had nothing to do with it. Babette decided to do it on her own, and 

this is the first time she has ever trimmed her nails for anyone.' " 

Did Mrs. Norris threaten Babette? Did she say she would refuse to 

teach a student with long fingernails? No, she did not. She let 

Babette know that her finger-nails were a thing of beauty and it 

would be a sacrifice to cut them. She implied, "I sympathize with you 

- I know it won't be easy, but it will pay off in your better musical 

development." 

Sol Hurok was probably America's number one impresario. For 

almost half a century he handled artists - such world-famous artists 

as Chaliapin, Isadora Duncan, and Pavlova. Mr. Hurok told me that

one of the first lessons he had learned in dealing with his 

temperamental stars was the' necessity for sympathy, sympathy and 

more sympathy with their idiosyncrasies. 

For three years, he was impresario for Feodor Chaliapin -one of the 

greatest bassos who ever thrilled the ritzy boxholders at the 

Metropolitan, Yet Chaliapin was a constant problem. He carried on 

like a spoiled child. To put it in Mr. Hurok's own inimitable phrase: 

"He was a hell of a fellow in every way." 

For example, Chaliapin would call up Mr. Hurok about noun of the 

day he was going to sing and say, "Sol, I feel terrible. My throat is 

like raw hamburger. It is impossible for me to sing tonight." Did Mr. 

Hurok argue with him? Oh, no. He knew that an entrepreneur 

couldn't handle artists that way. So he would rush over to Chaliapin's 

hotel, dripping with sympathy. "What a pity, " he would mourn. 

"What a pity! My poor fellow. Of course, you cannot sing. I will 

cancel the engagement at once. It will only cost you a couple of 

thousand dollars, but that is nothing in comparison to your 

reputation." 

Then Chaliapin would sigh and say, "Perhaps you had better come 

over later in the day. Come at five and see how I feel then." 

At five o'clock, Mr. Hurok would again rush to his hotel, dripping with 

sympathy. Again he would insist on canceling the engagement and 

again Chaliapin would sigh and say, "Well, maybe you had better 

come to see me later. I may be better then." 

At seven-thirty the great basso would consent to sing, only with the 

understanding that Mr. Hurok would walk out on the stage of the 

Metropolitan and announce that Chaliapin had a very bad cold and 

was not in good voice. Mr. Hurok would lie and say he would do it, 

for he knew that was the only way to get the basso out on the stage. 

Dr. Arthur I. Gates said in his splendid book Educational Psychology: 

"Sympathy the human species universally craves. The child eagerly 

displays his injury; or even inflicts a cut or bruise in order to reap 

abundant sympathy. For the same purpose adults ... show their 

bruises, relate their accidents, illness, especially details of surgical 

operations. 'Self-pity' for misfortunes real or imaginary is in some 

measure, practically a universal practice." 

So, if you want to win people to your way of thinking, put in practice 

... 

• Principle 9 - Be sympathetic with the other person's ideas and 

desires. 

~~~~~~~

10 - An Appeal That Everybody Likes 

I was reared on the edge of the Jesse James country out in Missouri, 

and I visited the James farm at Kearney, Missouri, where the son of 

Jesse James was then living. 

His wife told me stories of how Jesse robbed trains and held up 

banks and then gave money to the neighboring farmers to pay off 

their mortgages. 

Jesse James probably regarded himself as an idealist at heart, just as 

Dutch Schultz, "Two Gun" Crowley, Al Capone and many other 

organized crime "godfathers" did generations later. The fact is that 

all people you meet have a high regard for themselves and like to be 

fine and unselfish in their own estimation. 

J. Pierpont Morgan observed, in one of his analytical interludes, that 

a person usually has two reasons for doing a thing: one that sounds 

good and a real one. 

The person himself will think of the real reason. You don't need to 

emphasize that. But all of us, being idealists at heart, like to think of 

motives that sound good. So, in order to change people, appeal to 

the nobler motives. 

Is that too idealistic to work in business? Let's see. Let's take the 

case of Hamilton J. Farrell of the Farrell-Mitchell Company of 

Glenolden, Pennsylvania. Mr. Farrell had a disgruntled tenant who 

threatened to move. The tenant's lease still had four months to run; 

nevertheless, he served notice that he was vacating immediately, 

regardless of lease. 

"These people had lived in my house all winter - the most expensive 

part of the year," Mr. Farrell said as he told the story to the class, 

"and I knew it would be difficult to rent the apartment again before 

fall. I could see all that rent income going over the hill and believe 

me, I saw red. 

"Now, ordinarily, I would have waded into that tenant and advised 

him to read his lease again. I would have pointed out that if he 

moved, the full balance of his rent would fall due at once - and that I 

could, and would, move to collect. 

"However, instead of flying off the handle and making a scene, I 

decided to try other tactics. So I started like this: 'Mr. Doe,' I said, 'I 

have listened to your story, and I still don't believe you intend to 

move. Years in the renting business have taught me something 

about human nature, and I sized you up in the first place as being a

man of your word. In fact, I'm so sure of it that I'm willing to take a 

gamble. 

" 'Now, here's my proposition. Lav your decision on the table for a 

few days and think it over. If you come back to me between now 

and the first of the month, when your rent is due, and tell me you 

still intend to move, I give you my word I will accept your decision as 

final. I will privilege you to move and admit to myself I've been 

wrong in my judgment. But I still believe you're a man of your word 

and will live up to your contract. For after all, we are either men or 

monkeys - and the choice usually lies with ourselves!' 

"Well, when the new month came around, this gentleman came to 

see me and paid his rent in person. He and his wife had talked it 

over, he said - and decided to stay. They had concluded that the 

only honorable thing to do was to live up to their lease." 

When the late Lord Northcliffe found a newspaper using a picture of 

him which he didn't want published, he wrote the editor a letter. But 

did he say, "Please do not publish that picture of me any more; I 

don't like it"? No, he appealed to a nobler motive. He appealed to the 

respect and love that all of us have for motherhood. He wrote, 

"Please do not publish that picture of me any more. My mother 

doesn't like it." 

When John D. Rockefeller, Jr., wished to stop newspaper 

photographers from snapping pictures of his children, he too 

appealed to the nobler motives. He didn't, say: "I don't want their 

pictures published." No, he appealed to the desire, deep in all of us, 

to refrain from harming children. He said: "You know how it is, boys. 

You've got children yourselves, some of you. And you know it's not 

good for youngsters to get too much publicity." 

When Cyrus H. K. Curtis, the poor boy from Maine, was starting on 

his meteoric career, which was destined to make him millions as 

owner of The Saturday Evening Post and the Ladies' Home Journal, 

he couldn't afford to pay his contributors the prices that other 

magazines paid. He couldn't afford to hire first-class authors to write 

for money alone. So he appealed to their nobler motives. For 

example, he persuaded even Louisa May Alcott, the immortal author 

of Little Women, to write for him when she was at the flood tide of 

her fame; and he did it by offering to send a check for a hundred 

dollars, not to her, but to her favorite charity. 

Right here the skeptic may say: "Oh, that stuff is all right for 

Northcliffe and Rockefeller or a sentimental novelist. But, I'd like to 

see you make it work with the tough babies I have to collect bills 

from!"

You may be right. Nothing will work in all cases - and nothing will 

work with all people. If you are satisfied with the results you are now 

getting, why change? If you are not satisfied, why not experiment? 

At any rate, I think you will enjoy reading this true story told by 

James L. Thomas, a former student of mine: 

Six customers of a certain automobile company refused to pay their 

bills for servicing. None of the customers protested the entire bill, 

but each claimed that some one charge was wrong. In each case, 

the customer had signed for the work done, so the company knew it 

was right - and said so. That was the first mistake. 

Here are the steps the men in the credit department took to collect 

these overdue bills. Do you suppose they succeeded? 

• 1. They called on each customer and told him bluntly that they had 

come to collect a bill that was long past due. 

• 2. They made it very plain that the company was absolutely and 

unconditionally right; therefore he, the customer, was absolutely and 

unconditionally wrong. 

• 3. They intimated that they, the company, knew more about 

automobiles than he could ever hope to know. So what was the 

argument about? 

• 4. Result: They argued. 

Did any of these methods reconcile the customer and settle the 

account? You can answer that one yourself. 

At this stage of affairs, the credit manager was about to open fire 

with a battery of legal talent, when fortunately the matter came to 

the attention of the general manager. The manager investigated 

these defaulting clients and discovered that they all had the 

reputation of paying their bills promptly, Something was wrong here 

- something was drastically wrong about the method of collection. So 

he called in James L. Thomas and told him to collect these 

"uncollectible" accounts. 

Here, in his words, are the steps Mr. Thrrmas took: 

1. My visit to each customer was likewise to collect a bill long past 

due - a bill that we knew was absolutely right. But I didn't say a 

word about that. I explained I had called to find out what it was the 

company had done, or failed to do. 

2. I made it clear that, until I had heard the customer's story, I had 

no opinion to offer. I told him the company made no claims to being 

infallible.

3. I told him I was interested only in his car, and that he knew more 

about his car than anyone else in the world; that he was the 

authority on the subject. 

4. I let him talk, and I listened to him with all the interest and 

sympathy that he wanted - and had expected. 

5. Finally, when the customer was in a reasonable mood, I put the 

whole thing up to his sense of fair play. I appealed to the nobler 

motives. "First," I said, "I want you to know I also feel this matter 

has been badly mishandled. You've been inconvenienced and 

annoyed and irritated by one of our representatives. That should 

never have happened. I'm sorry and, as a representative of the 

company, I apologize. As I sat here and listened to your side of the 

story, I could not help being impressed by your fairness and 

patience. And now, because you are fair - minded and patient, I am 

going to ask you to do something for me. It's something that you 

can do better than anyone else, something you know more about 

than anyone else. Here is your bill; I know it is safe for me to ask 

you to adjust it, just as you would do if you were the president of my 

company. I am going to leave it all up to you. Whatever you say 

goes." 

Did he adjust the bill? He certainly did, and got quite a kick out of it, 

The bills ranged from $150 to $400 - but did the customer give 

himself the best of it? Yes, one of them did! One of them refused to 

pay a penny of the disputed charge; but the other five all gave the 

company the best of it! And here's the cream of the whole thing: we 

delivered new cars to all six of these customers within the next two 

years! 

"Experience has taught me," says Mr. Thomas, "that when no 

information can be secured about the customer, the only sound basis 

on which to proceed is to assume that he or she is sincere, honest, 

truthful and willing and anxious to pay the charges, once convinced 

they are correct. To put it differently and perhaps mare clearly, 

people are honest and want to discharge their obligations. The 

exceptions to that rule are comparatively few, and I am convinced 

that the individuals who are inclined to chisel will in most cases react 

favorably if you make them feel that you consider them honest, 

upright and fair." 

• Principle 10 - Appeal to the nobler motives. 

~~~~~~~ 

11 - The Movies Do It. Tv Does It. Why Don't You Do It? 

Many years ago, the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin was being 

maligned by a dangerous whispering campaign. A malicious rumor

was being circulated. Advertisers were being told that the newspaper 

was no longer attractive to readers because it carried too much 

advertising and too little news. Immediate action was necessary. The 

gossip had to be squelched. 

But how? 

This is the way it was done. 

The Bulletin clipped from its regular edition all reading matter of all 

kinds on one average day, classified it, and published it as a book. 

The book was called One Day. It contained 307 pages - as many as a 

hard-covered book; yet the Bulletin had printed all this news and 

feature material on one day and sold it, not for several dollars, but 

for a few cents. 

The printing of that book dramatized the fact that the Bulletin carried 

an enormous amount of interesting reading matter. It conveyed the 

facts more vividly, more interestingly, more impressively, than pages 

of figures and mere talk could have done. 

This is the day of dramatization. Merely stating a truth isn't enough. 

The truth has to be made vivid, interesting, dramatic. You have to 

use showmanship. The movies do it. Television does it. And you will 

have to do it if you want attention. 

Experts in window display know the power of dramazation. For 

example, the manufacturers of a new rat poison gave dealers a 

window display that included two live rats. The week the rats were 

shown, sales zoomed to five times their normal rate. 

Television commercials abound with examples of the use of dramatic 

techniques in selling products. Sit down one evening in front of your 

television set and analyze what the advertisers do in each of their 

presentations. You will note how an antacid medicine changes the 

color of the acid in a test tube while its competitor doesn't, how one 

brand of soap or detergent gets a greasy shirt clean when the other 

brand leaves it gray. You'll see a car maneuver around a series of 

turns and curves - far better than just being told about it. Happy 

faces will show contentment with a variety of products. All of these 

dramatize for the viewer the advantages offered by whatever is 

being sold - and they do get people to buy them. 

You can dramatize your ideas in business or in any other aspect of 

your life. It's easy. Jim Yeamans, who sells for the NCR company 

(National Cash Register) in Richmond, Virginia, told how he made a 

sale by dramatic demonstration. 

"Last week I called on a neighborhood grocer and saw that the cash 

registers he was using at his checkout counters were very old-

fashioned. I approached the owner and told him: 'You are literally 

throwing away pennies every time a customer goes through your 

line.' With that I threw a handful of pennies on the floor. He quickly 

became more attentive. The mere words should have been of 

interest to him, but the sound of Pennies hitting the floor really 

stopped him. I was able to get an order from him to replace all of his 

old machines." 

It works in home life as well. When the old-time lover Proposed to 

his sweetheart, did he just use words of love? No! He went down on 

his knees. That really showed he meant what he said. We don't 

propose on our knees any more, but many suitors still set up a 

romantic atmosphere before they pop the question. 

Dramatizing what you want works with children as well. Joe B. Fant, 

Jr., of Birmingham, Alabama, was having difficulty getting his fiveyear-old 

boy and three-year-old daughter to pick up their toys, so he 

invented a "train." Joey was the engineer (Captain Casey Jones) on 

his tricycle. Janet's wagon was attached, and in the evening she 

loaded all the "coal" on the caboose (her wagon) and then jumped in 

while her brother drove her around the room. In this way the room 

was cleaned up - without lectures, arguments or threats. 

Mary Catherine Wolf of Mishawaka, Indiana, was having some 

problems at work and decided that she had to discuss them with the 

boss. On Monday morning she requested an appointment with him 

but was told he was very busy and she should arrange with his 

secretary for an appointment later in the week. The secretary 

indicated that his schedule was very tight, but she would try to fit 

her in. 

Ms. Wolf described what happened: 

"I did not get a reply from her all week long. Whenever I questioned 

her, she would give me a reason why the boss could not see me. 

Friday morning came and I had heard nothing definite. I really 

wanted to see him and discuss my problems before the weekend, so 

I asked myself how I could get him to see me. 

"What I finally did was this. I wrote him a formal letter. I indicated in 

the letter that I fully understood how extremely busy he was all 

week, but it was important that I speak with him. I enclosed a form 

letter and a self-addressed envelope and asked him to please fill it 

out or ask his secretary to do it and return it to me. The form letter 

read as follows: 

Ms. Wolf - I will be able to see you on __________ a t 

__________A.M/P.M. I will give you _____minutes of my time.

"I put this letter in his in-basket at 11 A.M. At 2 P.M. I checked my 

mailbox. There was my self-addressed envelope. He had answered 

my form letter himself and indicated he could see me that afternoon 

and could give me ten minutes of his time. I met with him, and we 

talked for over an hour and resolved my problems. 

"If I had not dramatized to him the fact that I really wanted to see 

him, I would probably be still waiting for an appointment." 

James B. Boynton had to present a lengthy market report. His firm 

had just finished an exhaustive study for a leading brand of cold 

cream. Data were needed immediately about the competition in this 

market; the prospective customer was one of the biggest - and most 

formidable - men in the advertising business. 

And his first approach failed almost before he began. 

"The first time I went in," Mr. Boynton explains, "I found myself 

sidetracked into a futile discussion of the methods used in the 

investigation. He argued and I argued. He told me I was wrong, and 

I tried to prove that I was right. 

"I finally won my point, to my own satisfaction - but my time was up, 

the interview was over, and I still hadn't produced results. 

"The second time, I didn't bother with tabulations of figures and 

data, I went to see this man, I dramatized my facts I. 

"As I entered his office, he was busy on the phone. While he finished 

his conversation, I opened a suitcase and dumped thirty-two jars of 

cold cream on top of his desk - all products he knew - all competitors 

of his cream. 

"On each jar, I had a tag itemizing the results of the trade 

investigation, And each tag told its story briefly, dramatically. 

"What happened? 

"There was no longer an argument. Here was something new, 

something different. He picked up first one and then another of the 

jars of cold cream and read the information on the tag. A friendly 

conversation developed. He asked additional questions. He was 

intensely interested. He had originally given me only ten minutes to 

present my facts, but ten minutes passed, twenty minutes, forty 

minutes, and at the end of an hour we were still talking. 

"I was presenting the same facts this time that I had presented 

previously. But this time I was using dramatization, showmanship - 

and what a difference it made."

• Principle 11 - Dramatize your ideas. 

~~~~~~~ 

12 - When Nothing Else Works, Try This 

Charles Schwab had a mill manager whose people weren't producing 

their quota of work. 

"How is it," Schwab asked him, "that a manager as capable as you 

can't make this mill turn out what it should?" 

"I don't know," the manager replied. "I've coaxed the men, I've 

pushed them, I've sworn and cussed, I've threatened them with 

damnation and being fired. But nothing works. They just won't 

produce." 

This conversation took place at the end of the day, just before the 

night shift came on. Schwab asked the manager for a piece of chalk, 

then, turning to the nearest man, asked: "How many heats did your 

shift make today?" 

"Six." 

Without another word, Schwab chalked a big figure six on the floor, 

and walked away. 

When the night shift came in, they saw the "6" and asked what it 

meant. 

"The big boss was in here today," the day people said. "He asked us 

how many heats we made, and we told him six. He chalked it down 

on the floor." 

The next morning Schwab walked through the mill again. The night 

shift had rubbed out "6" and replaced it with a big "7." 

When the day shift reported for work the next morning, they saw a 

big "7" chalked on the floor. So the night shift thought they were 

better than the day shift did they? Well, they would show the night 

shift a thing or two. The crew pitched in with enthusiasm, and when 

they quit that night, they left behind them an enormous, swaggering 

"10." Things were stepping up. 

Shortly this mill, which had been lagging way behind in production, 

was turning out more work than any other mill in the plant. 

The principle?

Let Charles Schwab say it in his own words: "The way to get things 

done," say Schwab, "is to stimulate competition. I do not mean in a 

sordid, money-getting way, but in the desire to excel." 

The desire to excel! The challenge! Throwing down the gauntlet! An 

infallible way of appealing to people of spirit. 

Without a challenge, Theodore Roosevelt would never have been 

President of the United States. The Rough Rider, just back from 

Cuba, was picked for governor of New York State. The opposition 

discovered he was no longer a legal resident of the state, and 

Roosevelt, frightened, wished to withdraw. Then Thomas Collier 

Platt, then U.S. Senator from New York, threw down the challenge. 

Turning suddenly on Theodore Roosevelt, he cried in a ringing voice: 

"Is the hero of San Juan Hill a coward?" 

Roosevelt stayed in the fight - and the rest is history. A challenge not 

only changed his life; it had a real effect upon the future of his 

nation. 

"All men have fears, but the brave put down their fears and go 

forward, sometimes to death, but always to victory" was the motto 

of the King's Guard in ancient Greece. What greater challenge can be 

offered than the opportunity to overcome those fears? 

When Al Smith was governor of New York, he was up against it. Sing 

Sing, at the time the most notorious pen-itentiary west of Devil's 

Island, was without a warden. Scandals had been sweeping through 

the pristin walls, scandals and ugly rumors. Smith needed a strong 

man to rule Sing Sing - an iron man. But who? He sent for Lewis E. 

Lawes of New Hampton. 

"How about going up to take charge of Sing Sing?" he said jovially 

when Lawes stood before him. "They need a man up there with 

experience." 

Lawes was flabbergasted. He knew the dangers of Sing Sing. It was 

a political appointment, subject to the vagaries of political whims. 

Wardens had come and gone - one had lasted only three weeks. He 

had a career to consider. Was it worth the risk? 

Then Smith, who saw his hesitation, leaned back in his chair and 

smiled. "Young fellow," he said, "I don't blame you for being scared. 

It's a tough spot. It'll take a big person to go up there and stay." 

So Smith was throwing down a challenge, was he? Lawes liked the 

idea of attempting a job that called for someone "big." 

So he went. And he stayed. He stayed, to become the most famous 

warden of his time. His book 20,000 Years in Sing Sing sold into the

hundred of thousands of copies. His broadcasts on the air and his 

stories of prison life have inspired dozens of movies. His 

"humanizing" of criminals wrought miracles in the way of prison 

reform. 

"I have never found," said Harvey S. Firestone, founder of the great 

Firestone Tire and Rubber Company, "that pay and pay alone would 

either bring together or hold good people. I think it was the game 

itself." 

Frederic Herzberg, one of the great behavorial scientists, concurred. 

He studied in depth the work attitudes of thousands of people 

ranging from factory workers to senior executives. What do you think 

he found to be the most motivating factor - the one facet of the jobs 

that was most stimulating? Money? Good working conditions? Fringe 

benefits? No - not any of those. The one major factor that motivated 

people was the work itself. If the work was exciting and interesting, 

the worker looked forward to doing it and was motivated to do a 

good job. 

That is what every successful person loves: the game. The chance 

for self-expression. The chance to prove his or her worth, to excel, to 

win. That is what makes foot-races and hog-calling and pie-eating 

contests. The desire to excel. The desire for a feeling of importance. 

• Principle 12 - Throw down a challenge. 

In A Nutshell - Win People To Your Way Of Thinking 

• Principle 1 The only way to get the best of an argument is to avoid 

it. 

• Principle 2 Show respect for the other person's opinions. Never say, 

"You're wrong." 

• Principle 3 If you are wrong, admit it quickly and emphatically. 

• Principle 4 Begin in a friendly way. 

• Principle 5 Get the other person saying "yes, yes" immediately. 

• Principle 6 Let the other person do a great deal of the talking. 

• Principle 7 Let the other person feel that the idea is his or hers. 

• Principle 8 Try honestly to see things from the other person's point 

of view. 

• Principle 9 Be sympathetic with the other person's ideas and 

desires. 

• Principle 10 Appeal to the nobler motives. 

• Principle 11 Dramatize your ideas. 

• Principle 12 Throw down a challenge. 

----------------------- 

Part Four - Be a Leader: How to Change People Without Giving 

Offense or Arousing Resentment

1 - If You Must Find Fault, This Is The Way To Begin 

A friend of mine was a guest at the White House for a weekend 

during the administration of Calvin Coolidge. Drifting into the 

President's private office, he heard Coolidge say to one of his 

secretaries, "That's a pretty dress you are wearing this morning, and 

you are a very attractive young woman." 

That was probably the most effusive praise Silent Cal had ever 

bestowed upon a secretary in his life. It was so unusual, so 

unexpected, that the secretary blushed in confusion. Then Coolidge 

said, "Now, don't get stuck up. I just said that to make you feel 

good. From now on, I wish you would be a little bit more careful with 

your Punctuation." 

His method was probably a bit obvious, but the psychology was 

superb. It is always easier to listen to unpleasant things after we 

have heard some praise of our good points. 

A barber lathers a man before he shaves him; and that is precisely 

what McKinley did back in 1896, when he was running for President. 

One of the prominent Republicans of that day had written a 

campaign speech that he felt was just a trifle better than Cicero and 

Patrick Henry and Daniel Webster all rolled into one. With great glee, 

this chap read his immortal speech aloud to McKinley. The speech 

had its fine points, but it just wouldn't do. It would have raised a 

tornado of criticism. McKinley didn't want to hurt the man's feelings. 

He must not kill the man's splendid enthusiasm, and yet he had to 

say "no." Note how adroitly he did it. 

"My friend, that is a splendid speech, a magnificent speech," 

McKinley said. "No one could have prepared a better one. There are 

many occasions on which it would be precisely the right thing to say, 

but is it quite suitable to this particular occasion? Sound and sober as 

it is from your standpoint, I must consider its effect from the party's 

standpoint. Now you go home and write a speech along the lines I 

indicate, and send me a copy of it." 

He did just that. McKinley blue-penciled and helped him rewrite his 

second speech, and he became one of the effective speakers of the 

campaign. 

Here is the second most famous letter that Abraham Lincoln ever 

wrote. (His most famous one was written to Mrs. Bixby, expressing 

his sorrow for the death of the five sons she had lost in battle.) 

Lincoln probably dashed this letter off in five minutes; yet it sold at 

public auction in 1926 for twelve thousand dollars, and that, by the 

way, was more money than Lincoln was able to save during half a 

century of hard work. The letter was written to General Joseph

Hooker on April 26, 1863, during the darkest period of the Civil War. 

For eighteen months, Lincoln's generals had been leading the Union 

Army from one tragic defeat to another. Nothing but futile, stupid 

human butchery. The nation was appalled. Thousands of soldiers 

had deserted from the army, and en the Republican members of the 

Senate had revolted and wanted to force Lincoln out of the White 

House. "We are now on the brink of destruction," Lincoln said. It 

appears to me that even the Almighty is against us. I can hardly see 

a ray of hope." Such was the black sorrow and chaos out of which 

this letter came. 

I am printing the letter here because it shows how Lincoln tried to 

change an obstreperous general when the very fate of the nation 

could have depended upon the general's action. 

This is perhaps the sharpest letter Abe Lincoln wrote after he 

became President; yet you will note that he praised General Hooker 

before he spoke of his grave faults. 

Yes, they were grave faults, but Lincoln didn't call them that. Lincoln 

was more conservative, more diplomatic. Lincoln wrote: "There are 

some things in regard to which I am not quite satisfied with you." 

Talk about tact! And diplomacy! 

Here is the letter addressed to General Hooker: 

I have placed you at the head of the Army of the Potomac. Of 

course, I have done this upon what appears to me to be sufficient 

reasons, and yet I think it best for you to know that there are some 

things in regard to which I am not quite satisfied with you. 

I believe you to be a brave and skillful soldier, which, of course, I 

like. I also believe you do not mix politics with your profession, in 

which you are right. You have confidence in yourself, which is a 

valuable if not an indispensable quality. 

You are ambitious, which, within reasonable bounds, does good 

rather than harm, But I think that during General Burnside's 

command of the army you have taken counsel of your ambition and 

thwarted him as much as you could, in which you did a great wrong 

to the country and to a most meritorious and honorable brother 

officer. 

I have heard, in such a way as to believe it, of your recently saying 

that both the army and the Government needed a dictator. Of 

course, it was not for this, but in spite of it, that I have given you 

command.

Only those generals who gain successes can set up as dictators. 

What I now ask of you is military success and I will risk the 

dictatorship. 

The Government will support you to the utmost of its ability, which is 

neither more nor less than it has done and will do for all 

commanders. I much fear that the spirit which you have aided to 

infuse into the army, of criticizing their commander and withholding 

confidence from him, will now turn upon you. I shall assist you, as 

far as I can, to put it down. 

Neither you nor Napoleon, if he were alive again, could get any good 

out of an army while such spirit prevails in it, and now beware of 

rashness. Beware of rashness, but with energy and sleepless 

vigilance go forward and give us victories. 

You are not a Coolidge, a McKinley or a Lincoln. You want to know 

whether this philosophy will operate for you in everyday business 

contacts. Will it? Let's see. Let's take the case of W. P. Gaw of the 

Wark Company, Philadelphia. 

The Wark Company had contracted to build and complete a large 

office building in Philadelphia by a certain specified date. Everything 

was going along well; the building was almost finished, when 

suddenly the sub-contractor making the ornamental bronze work to 

go on the exterior of this building declared that he couldn't make 

delivery on schedule. What! An entire building held up! Heavy 

penalties! Distressing losses! All because of one man! 

Long-distance telephone calls. Arguments! Heated conversations! All 

in vain. Then Mr. Gaw was sent to New York to beard the bronze lion 

in his den. 

"Do you know you are the only person in Brooklyn with your name,?" 

Mr Gaw asked the president of the subcontracting firm shortly after 

they were introduced. The president was surprised. "No, I didn't 

know that." 

"Well," said Mr. Gaw, "when I got off the train this morning, I looked 

in the telephone book to get your address, and you're the only 

person in the Brooklyn phone book with your name." 

"I never knew that," the subcontractor said. He checked the phone 

book with interest. "Well, it's an unusual name," he said proudly. "My 

family came from Holland and settled in New York almost two 

hundred years ago. " He continued to talk about his family and his 

ancestors for several minutes. When he finished that, Mr. Gaw 

complimented him on how large a plant he had and compared it 

favorably with a number of similar plants he had visited. "It is one of 

the cleanest and neatest bronze factories I ever saw," said Gaw.

"I've spent a lifetime building up this business," the subcontractor 

said, "and I am rather proud of it. Would you like to take a look 

around the factory?" 

During this tour of inspection, Mr. Gaw complimented the other man 

on his system of fabrication and told him how and why it seemed 

superior to those of some of his competitors. Gaw commented on 

some unusual machines, and the subcontractor announced that he 

himself had invented those machines. He spent considerable time 

showing Gaw how they operated and the superior work they turned 

out. He insisted on taking his visitor to lunch. So far, mind you, not a 

word had been said about the real purpose of Gaw's visit. 

After lunch, the subcontractor said, "Now, to get down to business. 

Naturally, I know why you're here. I didn't expect that our meeting 

would be so enjoyable. You can go back to Philadelphia with my 

promise that your material will be fabricated and shipped, even if 

other orders have to be delayed." 

Mr. Gaw got everything that he wanted without even asking for it. 

The material arrived on time, and the building was completed on the 

day the completion contract specified. 

Would this have happened had Mr. Gaw used the hammer-anddynamite 

method generally employed on such occasions? 

Dorothy Wrublewski, a branch manager of the Fort Monmouth, New 

Jersey, Federal Credit Union, reported to one of our classes how she 

was able to help one of her employees become more productive. 

"We recently hired a young lady as a teller trainee. Her contact with 

our customers was very good. She was accurate and efficient in 

handling individual transactions. The problem developed at the end 

of the day when it was time to balance out. 

"The head teller came to me and strongly suggested that I fire this 

woman. 'She is holding up everyone else because she is so slow in 

balancing out. I've shown her over and over, but she can't get it. 

She's got to go.' 

"The next day I observed her working quickly and accurately when 

handling the normal everyday transactions, and she was very 

pleasant with our customers. 

"It didn't take long to discover why she had trouble balancing out. 

After the office closed, I went over to talk with her. She was 

obviously nervous and upset. I praised her for being so friendly and 

outgoing with the customers and complimented her for the accuracy 

and speed used in that work. I then suggested we review the

procedure we use in balancing the cash drawer. Once she realized I 

had confidence in her, she easily followed my suggestions and soon 

mastered this function. We have had no problems with her since 

then." 

Beginning with praise is like the dentist who begins his work with 

Novocain. The patient still gets a drilling, but the Novocain is painkilling. 

A leader will use ... 

• Principle 1 - Begin with praise and honest appreciation. 

~~~~~~~ 

2 - How To Criticize-And Not Be Hated For It 

Charles Schwab was passing through one of his steel mills one day at 

noon when he came across some of his employees smoking. 

Immediately above their heads was a sign that said "No Smoking." 

Did Schwab point to the sign and say, "Can't you read.? Oh, no not 

Schwab. He walked over to the men, handed each one a cigar, and 

said, "I'll appreciate it, boys, if you will smoke these on the outside." 

They knew that he knew that they had broken a rule - and they 

admired him because he said nothing about it and gave them a little 

present and made them feel important. Couldn't keep from loving a 

man like that, could you? 

John Wanamaker used the same technique. Wanamaker used to 

make a tour of his great store in Philadelphia every day. Once he 

saw a customer waiting at a counter. No one was paying the 

slightest attention to her. The salespeople? Oh, they were in a 

huddle at the far end of the counter laughing and talking among 

themselves. Wanamaker didn't say a word. Quietly slipping behind 

the counter, he waited on the woman himself and then handed the 

purchase to the salespeople to be wrapped as he went on his way. 

Public officials are often criticized for not being accessible to their 

constituents. They are busy people, and the fault sometimes lies in 

overprotective assistants who don't want to overburden their bosses 

with too many visitors. Carl Langford, who has been mayor of 

Orlando, 

Florida, the home of Disney World, for many years, frequently 

admonished his staff to allow people to see him. clamed he had an 

"open-door" policy; yet the citizens of his community were blocked 

by secretaries and administrators when they called. 

Finally the mayor found the solution. He removed the door from his 

office! His aides got the message, and the mayor has had a truly 

open administration since the day his door was symbolically thrown 

away.

Simply changing one three-letter word can often spell the difference 

between failure and success in changing people without giving 

offense or arousing resentment. 

Many people begin their criticism with sincere praise followed by the 

word "but" and ending with a critical statement. For example, in 

trying to change a child's careless attitude toward studies, we might 

say, "We're really proud of you, Johnnie, for raising your grades this 

term. But if you had worked harder on your algebra, the results 

would have been better." 

In this case, Johnnie might feel encouraged until he heard the word 

"but." He might then question the sincerity of the original praise. To 

him, the praise seemed only to be a contrived lead-in to a critical 

inference of failure. Credibility would be strained, and we probably 

would not achieve our objectives of changing Johnnie's attitude 

toward his studies. 

This could be easily overcome by changing the word "but" to "and." 

"We're really proud of you, Johnnie, for raiseing your grades this 

term, and by continuing the same conscientious efforts next term, 

your algebra grade can be up with all the others." 

Now, Johnnie would accept the praise because there was no followup 

of an inference of failure. We have called his attention to the 

behavior we wished to change indirectly and the chances are he will 

try to live up to our expectations. 

Calling attention to one's mistakes indirectly works wonders with 

sensitive people who may resent bitterly any direct criticism. Marge 

Jacob of Woonsocket, Rhode Island, told one of our classes how she 

convinced some sloppy construction workers to clean up after 

themselves when they were building additions to her house. 

For the first few days of the work, when Mrs. Jacob returned from 

her job, she noticed that the yard was strewn with the cut ends of 

lumber. She didn't want to antagonize the builders, because they did 

excellent work. So after the workers had gone home, she and her 

children picked up and neatly piled all the lumber debris in a corner. 

The following morning she called the foreman to one side and said, 

"I'm really pleased with the way the front lawn was left last night; it 

is nice and clean and does not offend the neighbors." From that day 

forward the workers picked up and piled the debris to one side, and 

the foreman came in each day seeking approval of the condition the 

lawn was left in after a day's work. 

One of the major areas of controversy between members of the 

army reserves and their regular army trainers is haircuts. The

eservists consider themselves civilians (which they are most of the 

time) and resent having to cut their hair short. 

Master Sergeant Harley Kaiser of the 542nd USAR School addressed 

himself to this problem when he was working with a group of reserve 

noncommissioned officers. As an old-time regular-army master 

sergeant, he might have been expected to yell at his troops and 

threaten them. Instead he chose to make his point indirectly. 

"Gentlemen," he started, "you are leaders. You will be most effective 

when you lead by example. You must be the example for your men 

to follow. You know what the army regulations say about haircuts. I 

am going to get my hair cut today, although it is still much shorter 

than some of yours. You look at yourself in the mirror, and if you feel 

you need a haircut to be a good example, we'll arrange time for you 

to visit the post barbership." 

The result was predictable. Several of the candidates did look in the 

mirror and went to the barbershop that afternoon and received 

"regulation" haircuts. Sergeant Kaiser commented the next morning 

that he already could see the development of leadership qualities in 

some of the members of the squad. 

On March 8, 1887, the eloquent Henry Ward Beecher died. The 

following Sunday, Lyman Abbott was invited to speak in the pulpit 

left silent by Beecher's passing. Eager to do his best, he wrote, 

rewrote and polished his sermon with the meticulous care of a 

Flaubert. Then he read it to his wife. It was poor - as most written 

speeches are. She might have said, if she had had less judgment, 

"Lyman, that is terrible. That'll never do. You'll put people to sleep. It 

reads like an encyclopedia. You ought to know better than that after 

all the years you have been preaching. For heaven's sake, why don't 

you talk like a human being? Why don't you act natural? You'll 

disgrace yourself if you ever read that stuff." 

That's what she might have said. And, if she had, you know what 

would have happened. And she knew too. So, she merely remarked 

that it would make an excellent article for the North American 

Review. In other words, she praised it and at the same time subtly 

suggested that it wouldn't do as a speech. Lyman Abbott saw the 

point, tore up his carefully prepared manuscript and preached 

without even using notes. 

An effective way to correct others' mistakes is ... 

• Principle 2 - Call attention to people's mistakes indirectly. 

~~~~~~~ 

3 - Talk About Your Own Mistakes First

My niece, Josephine Carnegie, had come to New York to be my 

secretary. She was nineteen, had graduated from high school three 

years previously, and her business experience was a trifle more than 

zero. She became one of the most proficient secretaries west of 

Suez, but in the beginning, she was - well, susceptible to 

improvement. One day when I started to criticize her, I said to 

myself: "Just a minute, Dale Carnegie; just a minute. You are twice 

as old as Josephine. You have had ten thousand times as much 

business experience. How can you possibly expect her to have your 

viewpoint, your judgment, your initiative - mediocre though they 

may be? And just a minute, Dale, what were you doing at nineteen? 

Remember the asinine mistakes and blunders you made? Remember 

the time you did this ... and that ... ?" 

After thinking the matter over, honestly and impartially, I concluded 

that Josephine's batting average at nineteen was better than mine 

had been - and that, I'm sorry to confess, isn't paying Josephine 

much of a compliment. 

So after that, when I wanted to call Josephine's attention to a 

mistake, I used to begin by saying, "You have made a mistake, 

Josephine, but the Lord knows, it's no worse than many I have 

made. You were not born with judgment. That comes only with 

experience, and you are better than I was at your age. I have been 

guilty of so many stupid, silly things myself, I have very little incliion 

to criticize you or anyone. But don't you think it would have been 

wiser if you had done so and so?" 

It isn't nearly so difficult to listen to a recital of your faults if the 

person criticizing begins by humbly admitting that he, too, is far from 

impeccable. 

E.G. Dillistone, an engineer in Brandon, Manitoba, Canada, was 

having problems with his new secretary. Letters he dictated were 

coming to his desk for signature with two or three spelling mistakes 

per page. Mr. Dillistone reported how he handled this: 

"Like many engineers, I have not been noted for my excellent 

English or spelling. For years I have kept a little black thumb - index 

book for words I had trouble spelling. When it became apparent that 

merely pointing out the errors was not going to cause my secretary 

to do more proofreading and dictionary work, I resolved to take 

another approach. When the next letter came to my attention that 

had errors in it, I sat down with the typist and said: 

" 'Somehow this word doesn't look right. It's one of the words I 

always have had trouble with. That's the reason I started this 

spelling book of mine. [I opened the book to the appropriate page.] 

Yes, here it is. I'm very conscious of my spelling now because people

do judge us by our letters and misspellings make us look less 

professional. 

"I don't know whether she copied my system or not, but since that 

conversation, her frequency of spelling errors has been significantly 

reduced." 

The polished Prince Bernhard von Bьlow learned the sharp necessity 

of doing this back in 1909. Von Bьlow was then the Imperial 

Chancellor of Germany, and on the throne sat Wilhelm II-Wilhelm, 

the haughty; Wilhelm the arrogant; Wilhelm, the last of the German 

Kaisers, building an army and navy that he boasted could whip their 

weight in wildcats 

Then an astonishing thing happened. The Kaiser said things, 

incredible things, things that rocked the continent and started a 

series of explosions heard around the world. To make matters 

infinitely worse, the Kaiser made silly, egotistical, absurd 

announcements in public, he made them while he was a guest in 

England, and he gave his royal permission to have them printed in 

the Daily Telegraph. For example, he declared that he was the only 

German who felt friendly toward the English; that he was 

constructing a navy against the menace of Japan; that he, and he 

alone, had saved England from being humbled in the dust by Russia 

and France; that it had been his campaign plan that enabled 

England's Lord Roberts to defeat the Boers in South Africa; and so 

on and on. 

No other such amazing words had ever fallen from the lips of a 

European king in peacetime within a hundred years. The entire 

continent buzzed with the fury of a hornet's nest. England was 

incensed. German statesmen were aghast. And in the midst of all 

this consternation, the Kaiser became panicky and suggested to 

Prince von Bьlow, the Imperial Chancellor, that he take the blame. 

Yes, he wanted von Bьlow to announce that it was all his 

responsibility, that he had advised his monarch to say these 

incredible things. 

"But Your Majesty," von Bьlow protested, "it seems to me utterly 

impossible that anybody either in Germany or England could suppose 

me capable of having advised Your Majesty to say any such thing." 

The moment those words were out of von Bьlow's mouth, he 

realized he had made a grave mistake. The Kaiser blew up. 

"You consider me a donkey," he shouted, "capable of blunders you 

yourself could never have committed!"

Von Bьlow's knew that he ought to have praised before he 

condemned; but since that was too late, he did the next best thing. 

He praised after he had criticized. And it worked a miracle. 

"I'm far from suggesting that," he answered respectfully. "Your 

Majesty surpasses me in manv respects; not only of course, in naval 

and military knowledge but above all, in natural science. I have often 

listened in admiration when Your Majesty explained the barometer, 

or wireless telegraphy, or the Roentgen rays. I am shamefully 

ignorant of all branches of natural science, have no notion of 

chemistry or physics, and am quite incapable of explaining the 

simplest of natural phenomena. But," von Bьllow continued, "in 

compensation, I possess some historical knowledge and perhaps 

certain qualities useful in politics, especially in diplomacy." 

The Kaiser beamed. Von Bulow had praised him. Von Bьlow had 

exalted him and humbled himself. The Kaiser could forgive anything 

after that. "Haven't I always told you," he exclaimed with 

enthusiasm, "that we complete one another famously? We should 

stick together, and we will!" 

He shook hands with von Bьlow, not once, but several times. And 

later in the day he waxed so enthusiastic that he exclaimed with 

doubled fists, "If anyone says anything to me against Prince von 

Bьlow, I shall punch him in the nose." 

Von Bьlow saved himself in time - but, canny diplomat that he was, 

he nevertheless had made one error: he should have begun by 

talking about his own shortcomings and Wilhelm's superiority - not 

by intimating that the Kaiser was a half-wit in need of a guardian. 

If a few sentences humbling oneself and praising the other party can 

turn a haughty, insulted Kaiser into a staunch friend, imagine what 

humility and praise can do for you and me in our daily contacts. 

Rightfully used, they will work veritable miracles in human relations. 

Admitting one's own mistakes - even when one hasn't corrected 

them - can help convince somebody to change his behavior. This 

was illustrated more recently by Clarence Zerhusen of Timonium, 

Maryland, when he discovered his fifteen-year-old son was 

experimenting with cigarettes. 

"Naturally, I didn't want David to smoke," Mr. Zerhusen told us, "but 

his mother and I smoked cigarettes; we were giving him a bad 

example all the time. I explained to Dave how I started smoking at 

about his age and how the nicotine had gotten the best of me and 

now it was nearly impossible for me to stop. I reminded him how 

irritating my cough was and how he had been after me to give up 

cigarettes not many years before.

"I didn't exhort him to stop or make threats or warn him about their 

dangers. All I did was point out how I was hooked on cigarettes and 

what it had meant to me. 

"He thought about it for a while and decided he wouldn't smoke until 

he had graduated from high school. As the years went by David 

never did start smoking and has no intention of ever doing so. 

"As a result of that conversation I made the decision to stop smoking 

cigarettes myself, and with the support of my family, I have 

succeeded." 

A good leader follows this principle: 

• Principle 3 - Talk about your own mistakes before criticizing the 

other person. 

~~~~~~~ 

4 - No One Likes To Take Orders 

I once had the pleasure of dining with Miss Ida Tarbell, the dean of 

American biographers. When I told her I was writing this book, we 

began discussing this all-important subject of getting along with 

people, and she told me that while she was writing her biography of 

Owen D. Young, she interviewed a man who had sat for three years 

in the same office with Mr. Young. This man declared that during all 

that time he had never heard Owen D. Young give a direct order to 

anyone. He always gave suggestions, not orders. Owen D. Young 

never said, for example, "Do this or do that," or "Don't do this or 

don't do that." He would say, "You might consider this," or "Do you 

think that would work?" Frequently he would say, after he had 

dictated a letter, "What do you think of this?" In looking over a letter 

of one of his assistants, he would say, "Maybe if we were to phrase it 

this way it would be better." He always gave people the opportunity 

to do things themselves; he never told his assistants to do things; he 

let them do them, let them learn from their mistakes. 

A technique like that makes it easy for a person to correct errors. A 

technique like that saves a person's pride and gives him or her a 

feeling of importance. It encourages cooperation instead of rebellion. 

Resentment caused by a brash order may last a long time -even if 

the order was given to correct an obviously bad situation. Dan 

Santarelli, a teacher at a vocational school in Wyoming, 

Pennsylvania, told one of our classes how one of his students had 

blocked the entrance way to one of the school's shops by illegally 

parking his car in it. One of the other instructors stormed into the 

classroom and asked in an arrogant tone, "Whose car is blocking the 

driveway?" When the student who owned the car responded, the

instructor screamed: "Move that car and move it right now, or I'll 

wrap a chain around it and drag it out of there." 

Now that student was wrong. The car should not have been parked 

there. But from that day on, not only did that student resent the 

instructor's action, but all the students in the class did everything 

they could to give the instructor a hard time and make his job 

unpleasant. 

How could he have handled it differently? If he had asked in a 

friendly way, "Whose car is in the driveway?" and then suggested 

that if it were moved, other cars could get in and out, the student 

would have gladly moved it and neither he nor his classmates would 

have been upset and resentful. 

Asking questions not only makes an order more palatable; it often 

stimulates the creativity of the persons whom you ask. People are 

more likely to accept an order if they have had a part in the decision 

that caused the order to be issued. 

When Ian Macdonald of Johannesburg, South Africa, the general 

manager of a small manufacturing plant specializing in precision 

machine parts, had the opportunity to accept a very large order, he 

was convinced that he would not meet the promised delivery date. 

The work already scheduled in the shop and the short completion 

time needed for this order made it seem impossible for him to accept 

the order. 

Instead of pushing his people to accelerate their work and rush the 

order through, he called everybody together, explained the situation 

to them, and told them how much it would mean to the company 

and to them if they could make it possible to produce the order on 

time. Then he started asking questions: 

"Is there anything we can do to handle this order?" 

"Can anyone think of different ways to process it through the shop 

that will make it possible to take the order?" 

"Is there any way to adjust our hours or personnel assignments that 

would help?" 

The employees came up with many ideas and insisted that he take 

the order. They approached it with a "We can do it" attitude, and the 

order was accepted, produced and delivered on time. 

An effective leader will use ... 

• Principle 4 - Ask questions instead of giving direct orders.

~~~~~~~ 

5 - Let The Other Person Save Face 

Years ago the General Electric Company was faced with the delicate 

task of removing Charles Steinmetz from the head of a department. 

Steinmetz, a genius of the first magnitude when it came to 

electricity, was a failure as the head of the calculating department. 

Yet the company didn't dare offend the man. He was indispensable - 

and highly sensitive. So they gave him a new title. They made him 

Consulting Engineer of the General Electric Company - a new title for 

work he was already doing -and let someone else head up the 

department. 

Steinmetz was happy. 

So were the officers of G.E. They had gently maneuvered their most 

temperamental star, and they had done it without a storm - by 

letting him save face. 

Letting one save face! How important, how vitally important that is! 

And how few of us ever stop to think of it! We ride roughshod over 

the feelings of others, getting our own way, finding fault, issuing 

threats, criticizing a child or an employee in front of others, without 

even considering the hurt to the other person's pride. Whereas a few 

minutes' thought, a considerate word or two, a genuine 

understanding of the other person's attitude, would go so far toward 

alleviating the sting! 

Let's remember that the next time we are faced with the distasteful 

necessity of discharging or reprimanding an employee. 

"Firing employees is not much fun. Getting fired is even less fun." 

(I'm quoting now from a letter written me by Marshall A. Granger, a 

certified public accountant.) "Our business is mostly seasonal. 

Therefore we have to let a lot of people go after the income tax rush 

is over. 

It's a byword in our profession that no one enjoys wielding the ax. 

Consequently, the custom has developed of getting it over as soon 

as possible, and usually in the following way: 'Sit down, Mr. Smith. 

The season's over, and we don't seem to see any more assignments 

for you. Of course, you understood you were only employed for the 

busy season anyhow, etc., etc.' 

"The effect on these people is one of disappointment and a feeling of 

being 'let down.' Most of them are in the accounting field for life, and 

they retain no particular love for the firm that drops them so 

casually.

"I recently decided to let our seasonal personnel go with a little more 

tact and consideration. So I call each one in only after carefully 

thinking over his or her work during the winter. And I've said 

something like this: 'Mr. Smith, you've done a fine job (if he has). 

That time we sent you to Newark, you had a tough assignment. You 

were on the spot, but you came through with flying colors, and we 

want you to know the firm is proud of you. You've got the stuff - 

you're going a long way, wherever you're working. This firm believes 

in you, and is rooting for you, and we don't want you to forget it.' 

"Effect? The people go away feeling a lot better about being fired. 

They don't feel 'let down.' They know if we had work for them, we'd 

keep them on. And when we need them again, they come to us with 

a keen personal affection." 

At one session of our course, two class members discussed the 

negative effects of faultfinding versus the positive effects of letting 

the other person save face. 

Fred Clark of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, told of an incident that 

occurred in his company: "At one of our production meetings, a vice 

president was asking very pointed questions of one of our production 

supervisors regarding a production process. His tone of voice was 

aggressive and aimed at pointing out faulty performance on the part 

of the supervisor. Not wanting to be embarrassed in front of his 

peers, the supervisor was evasive in his responses. This caused the 

vice president to lose his temper, berate the supervisor and accuse 

him of lying. 

"Any working relationship that might have existed prior to this 

encounter was destroyed in a few brief moments. This supervisor, 

who was basically a good worker, was useless to our company from 

that time on. A few months later he left our firm and went to work 

for a competitor, where I understand he is doing a fine job." 

Another class member, Anna Mazzone, related how a similar incident 

had occurred at her job - but what a difference in approach and 

results! Ms. Mazzone, a marketing specialist for a food packer, was 

given her first major assignment - the test-marketing of a new 

product. She told the class: "When the results of the test came in, I 

was devastated. I had made a serious error in my planning, and the 

entire test had to be done all over again. To make this worse, I had 

no time to discuss it with my boss before the meeting in which I was 

to make my report on the project. 

"When I was called on to give the report, I was shaking with fright. I 

had all I could do to keep from breaking down, but I resolved I 

would not cry and have all those men make remarks about women 

not being able to handle a management job because they are too 

emotional. I made my report briefly and stated that due to an error I

would repeat the study before the next meeting. I sat down, 

expecting my boss to blow up. 

"Instead, he thanked me for my work and remarked that it was not 

unusual for a person to make an error on a new project and that he 

had confidence that the repeat survey would be accurate and 

meaningful to the company. He Assured me, in front of all my 

colleagues, that he had faith in me and I knew I had done my best, 

and that my lack of experience, not my lack of ability, was the 

reason for the failure. 

I left that meeting with my head in the air and with the 

determination that I would never let that boss of mine down again." 

Even if we are right and the other person is definitely wrong, we only 

destroy ego by causing someone to lose face. The legendary French 

aviation pioneer and author Antoine de Saint-Exupйry wrote: "I have 

no right to say or do anything that diminishes a man in his own eyes. 

What matters is not what I think of him, but what he thinks of 

himself. Hurting a man in his dignity is a crime." 

A real leader will always follow ... 

• Principle 5 - Let the other person save face. 

~~~~~~~ 

6 - How To Spur People On To Success 

Pete Barlow was an old friend of mine. He had a dog-and-pony act 

and spent his life traveling with circuses and vaudeville shows. I 

loved to watch Pete train new dogs for his act. I noticed that the 

moment a dog showed the slightest improvement, Pete patted and 

praised him and gave him meat and made a great to-do about it. 

That's nothing new. Animal trainers have been using that same 

technique for centuries. 

Why, I wonder, don't we use the same common sense when trying 

to change people that we use when trying to change dogs? Why 

don't we use meat instead of a whip? Why don't we use praise 

instead of condemnation? Let us praise even the slightest 

improvement. That inspires the other person to keep on improving. 

In his book I Ain't Much, Baby-But I'm All I Got, the psychologist Jess 

Lair comments: "Praise is like sunlight to the warm human spirit; we 

cannot flower and grow without it. And yet, while most of us are only 

too ready to apply to others the cold wind of criticism, we are 

somehow reluctant to give our fellow the warm sunshine of praise." 

(*)

---- 

[*] Jess Lair, I Ain't Much, Baby - But I'm All I Got (Greenwich, 

Conn.: Fawcett, 1976), p.248. 

---- 

I can look back at my own life and see where a few words of praise 

have sharply changed my entire future. Can't you say the same thing 

about your life? History is replete with striking illustrations of the 

sheer witchery raise. 

For example, many years ago a boy of ten was working in a factory 

in Naples, He longed to be a singer, but his first teacher discouraged 

him. "You can't sing," he said. "You haven't any voice at all. It 

sounds like the wind in the shutters." 

But his mother, a poor peasant woman, put her arms about him and 

praised him and told him she knew he could sing, she could already 

see an improvement, and she went barefoot in order to save money 

to pay for his music lessons. That peasant mother's praise and 

encouragement changed that boy's life. His name was Enrico Caruso, 

and he became the greatest and most famous opera singer of his 

age. 

In the early nineteenth century, a young man in London aspired to 

be a writer. But everything seemed to be against him. He had never 

been able to attend school more than four years. His father had been 

flung in jail because he couldn't pay his debts, and this young man 

often knew the pangs of hunger. Finally, he got a job pasting labels 

on bottles of blacking in a rat-infested warehouse, and he slept at 

night in a dismal attic room with two other boys - guttersnipes from 

the slums of London. He had so little confidence in his ability to write 

that he sneaked out and mailed his first manuscript in the dead of 

night so nobody would laugh at him. Story after story was refused. 

Finally the great day came when one was accepted. True, he wasn't 

paid a shilling for it, but one editor had praised him. One editor had 

given him recognition. He was so thrilled that he wandered aimlessly 

around the streets with tears rolling down his cheeks. 

The praise, the recognition, that he received through getting one 

story in print, changed his whole life, for if it hadn't been for that 

encouragement, he might have spent his entire life working in ratinfested 

factories. You may have heard of that boy. His name was 

Charles Dickens. 

Another boy in London made his living as a clerk in a dry-goods 

store. He had to get up at five o'clock, sweep out the store, and 

slave for fourteen hours a day. It was sheer drudgery and he

despised it. After two years, he could stand it no longer, so he got up 

one morning and, without waiting for breakfast, tramped fifteen 

miles to talk to his mother, who was working as a housekeeper. 

He was frantic. He pleaded with her. He wept. He swore he would 

kill himself if he had to remain in the shop any longer. Then he wrote 

a long, pathetic letter to his old schoolmaster, declaring that he was 

heartbroken, that he no longer wanted to live. His old schoolmaster 

gave him a little praise and assured him that he really was very 

intelligent and fitted for finer things and offered him a job as a 

teacher. 

That praise changed the future of that boy and made a lasting 

impression on the history of English literature. For that boy went on 

to write innumerable best-selling books and made over a million 

dollars with his pen. You've probably heard of him. His name: H. G. 

Wells. 

Use of praise instead of criticism is the basic concept of B.F. 

Skinner's teachings. This great contemporary psychologist has shown 

by experiments with animals and with humans that when criticism is 

minimized and praise emphasized, the good things people do will be 

reinforced and the poorer things will atrophy for lack of attention. 

John Ringelspaugh of Rocky Mount, North Carolina, used this in 

dealing with his children. It seemed that, as in so many families, 

mother and dad's chief form of communication with the children was 

yelling at them. And, as in so many cases, the children became a 

little worse rather than better after each such session - and so did 

the parents. There seemed to be no end in sight for this problem. 

Mr. Ringelspaugh determined to use some of the principles he was 

learning in our course to solve this situation. He reported: "We 

decided to try praise instead of harping on their faults. It wasn't easy 

when all we could see were the negative things they were doing; it 

was really tough to find things to praise. We managed to find 

something, and within the first day or two some of the really 

upsetting things they were doing quit happening. Then some of their 

other faults began to disappear. They began capitalizing on the 

praise we were giving them. They even began going out of their way 

to do things right. Neither of us could believe it. Of course, it didn't 

last forever, but the norm reached after things leveled off was so 

much better. It was no longer necessary to react the way we used 

to. The children were doing far more right things than wrong ones." 

All of this was a result of praising the slightest improvement in the 

children rather than condemning everything they did wrong. 

This works on the job too. Keith Roper of Woodland Hills, California, 

applied this principle to a situation in his company. Some material 

came to him in his print shop which was of exceptionally high

quality. The printer who had done this job was a new employee who 

had been having difficulty adjusting to the job. His supervisor was 

upset about what he considered a negative attitude and was 

seriously thinking of terminating his services. 

When Mr. Roper was informed of this situation, he personally went 

over to the print shop and had a talk with the young man. He told 

him how pleased he was with the work he had just received and 

pointed out it was the best work he had seen produced in that shop 

for some time. He pointed out exactly why it was superior and how 

important the young man's contribution was to the company, 

Do you think this affected that young printer's attitude toward the 

company? Within days there was a complete turnabout. He told 

several of his co-workers about the conversation and how someone 

in the company really appreciated good work. And from that day on, 

he was a loyal and dedicated worker. 

What Mr. Roper did was not just flatter the young printer and say 

"You're good." He specifically pointed out how his work was superior. 

Because he had singled out a specific accomplishment, rather than 

just making general flattering remarks, his praise became much 

more meaningful to the person to whom it was given. Everybody 

likes to be praised, but when praise is specific, it comes across as 

sincere - not something the other person may be saying just to make 

one feel good. 

Remember, we all crave appreciation and recognition, and will do 

almost anything to get it. But nobody wants insincerity. Nobody 

wants flattery. 

Let me repeat: The principles taught in this book will work only when 

they come from the heart. I am not advocating a bag of tricks. I am 

talking about a new way of life. 

Talk about changing people. If you and I will inspire the people with 

whom we come in contact to a realization of the hidden treasures 

they possess, we can do far more than change people. We can 

literally transform them. 

Exaggeration? Then listen to these sage words from William James, 

one of the most distinguished psychologists and philosophers 

America has ever produced: 

Compared with what we ought to be, we are only half awake. We 

are making use of only a small part of our physical and mental 

resources. Stating the thing broadly, the human individual thus lives 

far within his limits. He possesses powers of various sorts which he 

habitually fails to use.

Yes, you who are reading these lines possess powers of various sorts 

which you habitually fail to use; and one of these powers you are 

probably not using to the fullest extent is your magic ability to praise 

people and inspire them with a realization of their latent possibilities. 

Abilities wither under criticism; they blossom under encouragement. 

To become a more effective leader of people, apply ... 

• Principle 6 - Praise the slightest improvement and praise every 

improvement. Be "hearty in your approbation and lavish in your 

praise." 

~~~~~~~ 

7 - Give A Dog A Good Name 

What do you do when a person who has been a good worker begins 

to turn in shoddy work? You can fire him or her, but that really 

doesn't solve anything. You can berate the worker, but this usually 

causes resentment. Henry Henke, a service manager for a large 

truck dealership in Lowell, Indiana, had a mechanic whose work had 

become less than satisfactory. Instead of bawling him out or 

threatening him, Mr. Henke called him into his office and had a 

heart-to-heart talk with him. 

"Bill," he said, "you are a fine mechanic. You have been in this line of 

work for a good number of years. You have repaired many vehicles 

to the customers' satisfaction. In fact, we've had a number of 

compliments about the good work you have done. Yet, of late, the 

time you take to complete each job has been increasing and your 

work has not been up to your own old standards. Because you have 

been such an outstanding mechanic in the past, I felt sure you would 

want to know that I am not happy with this situation, and perhaps 

jointly we could find some way to correct the problem." 

Bill responded that he hadn't realized he had been falling down in his 

duties and assured his boss that the work he was getting was not 

out of his range of expertise and he would try to improve in the 

future. 

Did he do it? You can be sure he did. He once again became a fast 

and thorough mechanic. With that reputation Mr. Henke had given 

him to live up to, how could he do anything else but turn out work 

comparable to that which he had done in the past. 

"The average person," said Samuel Vauclain, then president of the 

Baldwin Locomotive Works, "can be led readily if you have his or her 

respect and if you show that you respect that person for some kind 

of ability."

In short, if you want to improve a person in a certain spect, act as 

though that particular trait were already one of his or her 

outstanding characteristics. Shakespeare said "Assume a virtue, if 

you have it not." And it might be well to assume and state openly 

that other people have the virtue you want them to develop. Give 

them a fine reputation to live up to, and they will make prodigious 

efforts rather than see you disillusioned. 

Georgette Leblanc, in her book Souvenirs, My Life with Maeterlinck, 

describes the startling transformation of a humble Belgian Cinderella. 

"A servant girl from a neighboring hotel brought my meals," she 

wrote. "She was called 'Marie the Dish washer' because she had 

started her career as a scullery assistant. She was a kind of monster, 

cross-eyed, bandylegged, poor in flesh and spirit. 

"One day, while she was holding my plate of macaroni in her red 

hand, I said to her point-blank, 'Marie, you do not know what 

treasures are within you.' 

"Accustomed to holding back her emotion, Marie waited a few 

moments, not daring to risk the slightest gesture for fear of a 

castastrophe. Then she put the dish on the table, sighed and said 

ingenuously, 'Madame, I would never have believed it.' She did not 

doubt, she did not ask a question. She simply went back to the 

kitchen and repeated what I had said, and such is the force of faith 

that no one made fun of her. From that day on, she was even given 

a certain consideration. But the most curious change of all occurred 

in the humble Marie herself. Believing she was the tabernacle of 

unseen marvels, she began taking care of her face and body so 

carefully that her starved youth seemed to bloom and modestly hide 

her plainness. 

"Two months later, she announced her coming marriage with the 

nephew of the chef. 'I'm going to be a lady,' she said, and thanked 

me. A small phrase had changed her entire life." 

Georgette Leblanc had given "Marie the Dishwasher" a reputation to 

live up to - and that reputation had transformed her. 

Bill Parker, a sales representative for a food company in Daytona 

Beach, Florida, was very excited about the new line of products his 

company was introducing and was upset when the manager of a 

large independent food market turned down the opportunity to carry 

it in his store. Bill brooded all day over this rejection and decided to 

return to the store before he went home that evening and try again. 

"Jack," he said, "since I left this morning I realized I hadn't given you 

the entire picture of our new line, and I would appreciate some of 

your time to tell you about the points I omitted. I have respected the

fact that you are always willing to listen and are big enough to 

change your mind when the facts warrant a change." 

Could Jack refuse to give him another hearing? Not with that 

reputation to live up to. 

One morning Dr. Martin Fitzhugh, a dentist in Dublin, Ireland, was 

shocked when one of his patients pointed out to him that the metal 

cup holder which she was using to rinse her mouth was not very 

clean. True, the patient drank from the paper cup, not the holder, 

but it certainly was not professional to use tarnished equipment. 

When the patient left, Dr. Fitzhugh retreated to his private office to 

write a note to Bridgit, the charwoman, who came twice a week to 

clean his office. He wrote: 

My dear Bridgit, 

I see you so seldom, I thought I'd take the time to thank you for the 

fine job of cleaning you've been doing. By the way, I thought I'd 

mention that since two hours, twice a week, is a very limited amount 

of time, please feel free to work an extra half hour from time to time 

if you feel you need to do those "once-in-a-while" things like 

polishing the cup holders and the like. I, of course, will pay you for 

the extra time. 

"The next day, when I walked into my office," Dr. Fitzhugh reported, 

"My desk had been polished to a mirror-like finish, as had my chair, 

which I nearly slid out of. When I went into the treatment room I 

found the shiniest, cleanest chrome-plated cup holder I had ever 

seen nestled in its receptacle. I had given my char-woman a fine 

reputation to live up to, and because of this small gesture she 

outperformed all her past efforts. How much additional time did she 

spend on this? That's right-none at all ." 

There is an old saying: "Give a dog a bad name and you may as well 

hang him." But give him a good name - and see what happens! 

When Mrs. Ruth Hopkins, a fourth-grade teacher in Brooklyn, New 

York, looked at her class roster the first day of school, her 

excitement and joy of starting a new term was tinged with anxiety. 

In her class this year she would have Tommy T., the school's most 

notorious "bad boy." His third-grade teacher had constantly 

complained about Tommy to colleagues, the principal and anyone 

else who would listen. He was not just mischievous; he caused 

serious discipline problems in the class, picked fights with the boys, 

teased the girls, was fresh to the teacher, and seemed to get worse 

as he grew older. His only redeeming feature was his ability to learn 

rapidly and master the-school work easily.

Mrs. Hopkins decided to face the "Tommy problem" immediately. 

When she greeted her new students, she made little comments to 

each of them: "Rose, that's a pretty dress you are wearing," "Alicia, I 

hear you draw beautifully." When she came to Tommy, she looked 

him straight in the eyes and said, "Tommy, I understand you are a 

natural leader. I'm going to depend on you to help me make this 

class the best class in the fourth grade this year." She reinforced this 

over the first few days by complimenting Tommy on everything he 

did and commenting on how this showed what a good student he 

was. With that reputation to live up to, even a nine-year-old couldn't 

let her down - and he didn't. 

If you want to excel in that difficult leadership role of changing the 

attitude or behavior of others, use ... 

• Principle 7 - Give the other person a fine reputation to live up to. 

~~~~~~~ 

8 - Make The Fault Seem Easy To Correct 

A bachelor friend of mine, about forty years old, became engaged, 

and his fiancйe persuaded him to take some belated dancing lessons. 

"The Lord knows I needed dancing lessons," he confessed as he told 

me the story, "for I danced just as I did when I first started twenty 

years ago. The first teacher I engaged probably told me the truth. 

She said I was all wrong; I would just have to forget everything and 

begin all over again. But that took the heart out of me. I had no 

incentive to go on. So I quit her. 

"The next teacher may have been lying, but I liked it. She said 

nonchalantly that my dancing was a bit old-fashioned perhaps, but 

the fundamentals were all right, and she assured me I wouldn't have 

any trouble learning a few new steps. The first teacher had 

discouraged me by emphasizing my mistakes. This new teacher did 

the opposite. She kept praising the things I did right and minimizing 

my errors. 'You have a natural sense of rhythm,' she assured me. 

'You really are a natural-born dancer.' Now my common sense tells 

me that I always have been and always will be a fourth-rate dancer; 

yet, deep in my heart, I still like to think that maybe she meant it. To 

be sure, I was paying her to say it; but why bring that up? 

"At any rate, I know I am a better dancer than I would have been if 

she hadn't told me I had a natural sense of rhythm. That encouraged 

me. That gave me hope. That made me want to improve." 

Tell your child, your spouse, or your employee that he or she is 

stupid or dumb at a certain thing, has no gift for it, and is doing it all 

wrong, and you have destroyed almost every incentive to try to 

improve. But use the opposite technique - be liberal with your

encouragement, make the thing seem easy to do, let the other 

person know that you have faith in his ability to do it, that he has an 

undeveloped flair for it - and he will practice until the dawn comes in 

the window in order to excel. 

Lowell Thomas, a superb artist in human relations, used this 

technique, He gave you confidence, inspired you with courage and 

faith. For example, I spent a weekend with Mr. and Mrs. Thomas; 

and on Saturday night, I was asked to sit in on a friendly bridge 

game before a roaring fire. Bridge? Oh, no! No! No! Not me. I knew 

nothing about it. The game had always been a black mystery to me, 

No! No! Impossible! 

"Why, Dale, it is no trick at all," Lowell replied. "There is nothing to 

bridge except memory and judgment. You've written articles on 

memory. Bridge will be a cinch for you. It's right up your alley." 

And presto, almost before I realized what I was doing, I found 

myself for the first time at a bridge table. All because I was told I 

had a natural flair for it and the game was made to seem easy. 

Speaking of bridge reminds me of Ely Culbertson, whose books on 

bridge have been translated into a dozen languages and have sold 

more than a million copies. Yet he told me he never would have 

made a profession out of the game if a certain young woman hadn't 

assured him he had a flair for it. 

When he came to America in 1922, he tried to get a job teaching in 

philosophy and sociology, but he couldn't. Then he tried selling coal, 

and he failed at that 

Then he tried selling coffee, and he failed at that, too. 

He had played some bridge, but it had never occurred to him in 

those days that someday he would teach it. He was not only a poor 

card player, but he was also very stubborn. He asked so many 

questions and held so many post-mortem examinations that no one 

wanted to play with him. 

Then he met a pretty bridge teacher, Josephine Dillon, fell in love 

and married her. She noticed how carefully he analyzed his cards 

and persuaded him that he was a potential genius at the card table. 

It was that encouragement and that alone, Culbertson told me, that 

caused him to make a profession of bridge. 

Clarence M. Jones, one of the instructors of our course in Cincinnati, 

Ohio, told how encouragement and making faults seem easy to 

correct completely changed the life of his son.

"In 1970 my son David, who was then fifteen years old, came to live 

with me in Cincinnati. He had led a rough life. In 1958 his head was 

cut open in a car accident, leaving a very bad scar on his forehead. 

In 1960 his mother and I were divorced and he moved to Dallas, 

Texas, with his mother. Until he was fifteen he had spent most of his 

school years in special classes for slow learners in the Dallas school 

system. Possibly because of the scar, school administrators had 

decided he was brain-injured and could not function at a normal 

level. He was two years behind his age group, so he was only in the 

seventh grade. Yet he did not know his multiplication tables, added 

on his fingers and could barely read. 

"There was one positive point. He loved to work on radio and TV 

sets. He wanted to become a TV technician. I encouraged this and 

pointed out that he needed math to qualify for the training. I decided 

to help him become proficient in this subject. We obtained four sets 

of flash cards: multiplication, division, addition and subtraction. As 

we went through the cards, we put the correct answers in a discard 

stack. When David missed one, I gave him the correct answer and 

then put the card in the repeat stack until there were no cards left. I 

made a big deal out of each card he got right, particularly if he had 

missed it previously. Each night we would go through the repeat 

stack until there were no cards left. 

Each night we timed the exercise with a stop watch. I promised him 

that when he could get all the cards correct in eight minutes with no 

incorrect answers, we would quit doing it every night. This seemed 

an impossible goal to David. The first night it took 52 minutes, the 

second night, 48, then 45, 44, 41 then under 40 minutes. We 

celebrated each reduction. I'd call in my wife, and we would both 

hug him and we'd all dance a jig. At the end of the month he was 

doing all the cards perfectly in less than eight minutes. When he 

made a small improvement he would ask to do it again. He had 

made the fantastic discovery that learning was easy and fun. 

"Naturally his grades in algebra took a jump. It is amazing how much 

easier algebra is when you can multiply. He astonished himself by 

bringing home a B in math. That had never happened before. Other 

changes came with almost unbelievable rapidity. His reading 

improved rapidly, and he began to use his natural talents in drawing. 

Later in the school year his science teacher assigned him to develop 

an exhibit. He chose to develop a highly complex series of models to 

demonstrate the effect of levers. It required skill not only in drawing 

and model making but in applied mathematics. The exhibit took first 

prize in his school's science fair and was entered in the city 

competition and won third prize for the entire city of Cincinnati. 

"That did it. Here was a kid who had flunked two grades, who had 

been told he was 'brain-damaged,' who had been called 

'Frankenstein' by his classmates and told his brains must have leaked

out of the cut on his head. Suddenly he discovered he could really 

learn and accomplish things. The result? From the last quarter of the 

eighth grade all the way through high school, he never failed to 

make the honor roll; in high school he was elected to the national 

honor society. Once he found learning was easy, his whole life 

changed." 

If you want to help others to improve, remember ... 

• Principle 8 - Use encouragement. Make the fault seem easy to 

correct. 

~~~~~~~ 

9 - Making People Glad To Do What You Want 

Back in 1915, America was aghast. For more than a year, the nations 

of Europe had been slaughtering one another on a scale never 

before dreamed of in all the bloody annals of mankind. Could peace 

be brought about? No one knew. But Woodrow Wilson was 

determined to try. He would send a personal representative, a peace 

emissary, to counsel with the warlords of Europe. 

William Jennings Bryan, secretary of state, Bryan, the peace 

advocate, longed to go. He saw a chance to perform a great service 

and make his name immortal. But Wilson appointed another man, his 

intimate friend and advisor Colonel Edward M. House; and it was 

House's thorny task to break the unwelcome news to Bryan without 

giving him offense. 

"Bryan was distinctly disappointed when he heard I was to go to 

Europe as the peace emissary," Colonel House records in his diary. 

"He said he had planned to do this himself ... 

"I replied that the President thought it would be unwise for anyone 

to do this officially, and that his going would attract a great deal of 

attention and people would wonder why he was there. ..." 

You see the intimation? House practically told Bryan that he was too 

important for the job - and Bryan was satisfied. 

Colonel House, adroit, experienced in the ways of the world, was 

following one of the important rules of human relations: Always 

make the other person happy about doing the thing you suggest. 

Woodrow Wilson followed that policy even when inviting William 

Gibbs McAdoo to become a member of his cabinet. That was the 

highest honor he could confer upon anyone, and yet Wilson 

extended the invitation in such a way as to make McAdoo feel doubly 

important. Here is the story in McAdoo's own words: "He [Wilson]

said that he was making up his cabinet and that he would be very 

glad if I would accept a place in it as Secretary of the Treasury. He 

had a delightful way of putting things; he created the impression 

that by accepting this great honor I would be doing him a favor." 

Unfortunately, Wilson didn't always employ such taut. If he had, 

history might have been different. For example, Wilson didn't make 

the Senate and the Republican Party happy by entering the United 

States in the League of Nations. Wilson refused to take such 

prominent Republican leaders as Elihu Root or Charles Evans Hughes 

or Henry Cabot Lodge to the peace conference with him. Instead, he 

took along unknown men from his own party. He snubbed the 

Republicans, refused to let them feel that the League was their idea 

as well as his, refused to let them have a finger in the pie; and, as a 

result of this crude handling of human relations, wrecked his own 

career, ruined his health, shortened his life, caused America to stay 

out of the League, and altered the history of the world. 

Statesmen and diplomats aren't the only ones who use this make-aperson-happy-yo-do-things-you-want-them-to-do 

approach. Dale O. 

Ferrier of Fort Wayne, Indiana, told how he encouraged one of his 

young children to willingly do the chore he was assigned. 

"One of Jeff's chores was to pick up pears from under the pear tree 

so the person who was mowing underneath wouldn't have to stop to 

pick them up. He didn't like this chore, and frequently it was either 

not done at all or it was done so poorly that the mower had to stop 

and pick up several pears that he had missed. Rather than have an 

eyeball-to-eyeball confrontation about it, one day I said to him: 'Jeff, 

I'll make a deal with you. For every bushel basket full of pears you 

pick up, I'll pay you one dollar. But after you are finished, for every 

pear I find left in the yard, I'll take away a dollar. How does that 

sound?' As you would expect, he not only picked up all of the pears, 

but I had to keep an eye on him to see that he didn't pull a few off 

the trees to fill up some of the baskets." 

I knew a man who had to refuse many invitations to speak, 

invitations extended by friends, invitations coming from people to 

whom he was obligated; and yet he did it so adroitly that the other 

person was at least contented with his refusal. How did he do it? Not 

by merely talking about the fact that he was too busy and too-this 

and too-that. No, after expressing his appreciation of the invitation 

and regretting his inability to accept it, he suggested a substitute 

speaker. In other words, he didn't give the other person any time to 

feel unhappy about the refusal, He immediately changed the other 

person's thoughts to some other speaker who could accept the 

invitation. 

Gunter Schmidt, who took our course in West Germany, told of an 

employee in the food store he managed who was negligent about

putting the proper price tags on the shelves where the items were 

displayed. This caused confusion and customer complaints. 

Reminders, admonitions, confrontations, with her about this did not 

do much good. Finally, Mr. Schmidt called her into his office and told 

her he was appointing her Supervisor of Price Tag Posting for the 

entire store and she would be responsible for keeping all of the 

shelves properly tagged. This new responsibility and title changed 

her attitude completely, and she fulfiled her duties satisfactorily from 

then on. 

Childish? Perhaps. But that is what they said to Napoleon when he 

created the Legion of Honor and distributed 15,000 crosses to his 

soldiers and made eighteen of his generals "Marshals of France" and 

called his troops the "Grand Army." Napoleon was criticized for giving 

"toys" to war-hardened veterans, and Napoleon replied, "Men are 

ruled by toys." 

This technique of giving titles and authority worked for Napoleon and 

it will work for you. For example, a friend of mine, Mrs. Ernest Gent 

of Scarsdale, New York, was troubled by boys running across and 

destroying her lawn. She tried criticism. She tried coaxing. Neither 

worked. Then she tried giving the worst sinner in the gang a title and 

a feeling of authority. She made him her "detective" and put him in 

charge of keeping all trespassers off her lawn. That solved her 

problem. Her "detective" built a bonfire in the backyard, heated an 

iron red hot, and threatened to brand any boy who stepped on the 

lawn. 

The effective leader should keep the following guidelines in mind 

when it is necessary to change attitudes or behavior: 

• 1. Be sincere. Do not promise anything that you cannot deliver. 

Forget about the benefits to yourself and concentrate on the benefits 

to the other person. 

• 2. Know exactly what it is you want the other person to do. 

• 3. Be empathetic. Ask yourself what is it the other person really 

wants. 

• 4. Consider the benefits that person will receive from doing what 

you suggest. 

• 5. Match those benefits to the other person's wants. 

• 6. When you make your request, put it in a form that will convey to 

the other person the idea that he personally will benefit. We could 

give a curt order like this: " John, we have customers coming in 

tomorrow and I need the stockroom cleaned out. So sweep it out, 

put the stock in neat piles on the shelves and polish the counter." Or 

we could express the same idea by showing John the benefits he will 

get from doing the task: "John, we have a job that should be 

completed right away. If it is done now, we won't be faced with it 

later. I am bringing some customers in tomorrow to show our 

facilities. I would like to show them the stockroom, but it is in poor

shape. If you could sweep it out, put the stock in neat piles on the 

shelves, and polish the counter, it would make us look efficient and 

you will have done your part to provide a good company image." 

Will John be happy about doing what you suggest? Probably not very 

happy, but happier than if you had not pointed out the benefits. 

Assuming you know that John has pride in the way his stockroom 

looks and is interested in contributing to the company image, he will 

be more likely to be cooperative. It also will have been pointed out 

to John that the job would have to be done eventually and by doing 

it now, he won't be faced with it later. 

It is naпve to believe you will always get a favorable reaction from 

other persons when you use these approaches, but the experience of 

most people shows that you are more likely to change attitudes this 

way than by not using these principles - and if you increase your 

successes by even a mere 10 percent, you have become 10 percent 

more effective as a leader than you were before - and that is your 

benefit. 

People are more likely to do what you would like them to do when 

you use ... 

• Principle 9 - Make the other person happy about doing the thing 

you suggest. 

In A Nutshell Be A Leader 

A leader's job often includes changing your people's attitudes and 

behavior. Some suggestions to accomplish this: 

• Principle 1 - Begin with praise and honest appreciation. 

• Principle 2 - Call attention to people's mistakes indirectly. 

• Principle 3 - Talk about your own mistakes before criticizing the 

other person. 

• Principle 4 - Ask questions instead of giving direct orders. 

• Principle 5 - Let the other person save face. 

• Principle 6 - Praise the slightest improvement and praise every 

improvement. Be "hearty in your approbation and lavish in your 

praise." 

• Principle 7 - Give the other person a fine reputation to live up to. 

• Principle 8 - Use encouragement. Make the fault seem easy to 

correct. 

• Principle 9 - Make the other person happy about doing the thing 

you suggest. 

--------------------------- 

Part 5 - Letters That Produced Miraculous Results

I'll Bet I know what you are thinking now. You are probably saying to 

yourself something like this: " 'Letters that produced miraculous 

results!' Absurd! Smacks of patent-medicine advertising!" 

It you are thinking that, I don't blame you. I would probably have 

thought that myself if I had picked up a book like this fifteen years 

ago. Sceptical? Well, I like sceptical people. I spent the first twenty 

years of my life in Missouri—and I like people who have to be shown. 

Almost all the progress ever made in human thought has been made 

by the Doubting Thomases, the questioners, the challengers, the 

show-me crowd. 

Let's be honest. Is the title, "Letters That Produced Miraculous 

Results," accurate? No, to be frank with you, it isn't. The truth is, it is 

a deliberate understatement of fact. Some of the letters reproduced 

in this chapter harvested results that were rated twice as good as 

miracles. Rated by whom? By Ken R. Dyke, one of the best-known 

sales promotion men in America, formerly sales promotion manager 

for Johns-Manville, and now advertising manager for Colgate- 

Palmolive Peet Company and Chairman of the Board of the 

Association of National Advertisers. 

Mr Dykes says that letters he used to send out, asking for 

information from dealers, seldom brought more than a return of 5 to 

8 per cent. He said he would have regarded a 15 per cent response 

as most extraordinary, and told me that, if his replies had ever 

soared to 20 per cent, he would have regarded it as nothing short of 

a miracle. 

But one of Mr Dyke's letters, printed in this chapter, brought 42 1/2 

per cent; in other words, that letter was twice as good as a miracle. 

You can't laugh that off. And this letter wasn't a sport, a fluke, an 

accident. Similar results were obtained from scores of other letters. 

How did he do it? Here is the explanation in Ken Dyke's own words: 

"This astonishing increase in the effectiveness of letters occurred 

immediately after I attended Mr Carnegie's course in 'Effective 

Speaking and Human Relations.' I saw that the approach I had 

formerly used was all wrong. I tried to apply the principles taught in 

this book—and they resulted in an increase of from 500 to 800 per 

cent in the effectiveness of my letters asking for information." 

Here is the letter. It pleases the other man by asking him to do the 

writer a small favour—a favour that makes him feel important. My 

own comments on the letter appear in parentheses. Mr John Blank, 

Blankville, Indiana. Dear Mr Blank: 

I wonder if you would mind helping me out of a little difficulty?

(Let's get the picture clear. Imagine a lumber dealer in Indiana 

receiving a letter from an executive of the Johns-Manville Company; 

and in the first line of the letter, this high-priced executive in New 

York asks the other fellow to help him out of a difficulty. I can 

imagine the dealer in Indiana saying to himself something like this: 

"Well, if this chap in New York is in trouble, he has certainly come to 

the right person. I always try to be generous and help people. Let's 

see what's wrong with him!") 

Last year, I succeeded in convincing our company that what our 

dealers needed most to help increase their re-roofing sales was a 

year 'round direct-mail campaign paid for entirely by Johns-Manville. 

(The dealer out in Indiana probably says, "Naturally, they ought to 

pay for it. They're hogging most of the profit as it is. They're making 

millions while I'm having hard scratchin' to pay the rent. ... Now 

what is this fellow in trouble about?") 

Recently I mailed a questionnaire to the 1,600 dealers who had used 

the plan and certainly was very much pleased with the hundreds of 

replies which showed that they appreciated this form of co-operation 

and found it most helpful. 

On the strength of this, we have just released our new direct-mail 

plan which I know you'll like still better. 

But this morning our president discussed with me my report of last 

year's plan and, as presidents will, asked me how much business I 

could trace to it. Naturally, I must come to you to help me answer 

him. 

(That's a good phrase: "I must come to you to help me answer him." 

The big shot in New York is telling the truth, and he is giving the 

Johns-Manville dealer in Indiana honest, sincere recognition. Note 

that Ken Dyke doesn't waste any time talking about how important 

his company is. Instead, he immediately shows the other fellow how 

much he has to lean on him. Ken Dyke admits that he can't even 

make a report to the president of Johns-Manville without the dealer's 

help. Naturally, the dealer out in Indiana, being human, likes that 

kind of talk.) 

What I'd like you to do is (1) to tell me, on the enclosed postcard, 

how many roofing and re-roofing jobs you feel last year's direct-mail 

plan helped you secure, and (2) give me, as nearly as you can, their 

total estimated value in dollars and cents (based on the total cost of 

the jobs applied). 

If you'll do this, I'll surely appreciate it and thank you for your 

kindness in giving me this information.

Sincerely, KEN R. DYKE, Sales Promotion Manager 

(Note how, in the last paragraph, he whispers "I" and shouts "You." 

Note how generous he is in his praise: "Surely appreciate," "thank 

you," "your kindness.") 

Simple letter, isn't it? But it produced "miracles" by asking the other 

person to do a small favour—the performing of which gave him a 

feeling of importance. 

That psychology will work, regardless of whether you are selling 

asbestos roofs or touring Europe in a Ford. 

To illustrate. Homer Croy and I once lost our way while motoring 

through the interior of France. Halting our old Model T, we asked a 

group of peasants how we could get to the next big town. 

The effect of the question was electrical. These peasants, wearing 

wooden shoes, regarded all Americans as rich. And automobiles were 

rare in those regions, extremely rare. Americans touring through 

France in a car! Surely we must be millionaires. Maybe cousins of 

Henry Ford. But they knew something we didn't know. We had more 

money than they had; but we had to come to them hat in hand to 

find out how to get to the next town. And that gave them a feeling 

of importance. They all started talking at once. One chap, thrilled at 

this rare opportunity, commanded the others to keep quiet. He 

wanted to enjoy all alone the thrill of directing us. 

Try this yourself. The next time you are in a strange city, stop 

someone who is below you in the economic and social scale and say: 

"I wonder if you would mind helping me out of a little difficulty. 

Won't you please tell me how to get to such and such a place?" 

Benjamin Franklin used this technique to turn a caustic enemy into a 

lifelong friend. Franklin, a young man at the time, had all his savings 

invested in a small printing business. He managed to get himself 

elected clerk of the General Assembly in Philadelphia. That position 

gave him the job of doing the official printing. There was good profit 

in this job, and Ben was eager to keep it. But a menace loomed 

ahead. One of the richest and ablest men in the Assembly disliked 

Franklin bitterly. He not only disliked Franklin, but he denounced him 

in a public talk. 

That was dangerous, very dangerous. So Franklin resolved to make 

the man like him. But how? That was a problem. By doing a favour 

for his enemy? No, that would have aroused his suspicions, maybe 

his contempt. Franklin was too wise, too adroit to be caught in such 

a trap. So he did the very opposite. He asked his enemy to do him a 

favour.

Franklin didn't ask for a loan of ten dollars. No! No! Franklin asked a 

favour that pleased the other man—a favour that touched his vanity, 

a favour that gave him recognition, a favour that subtly expressed 

Franklin's admiration for his knowledge and achievements. Here is 

the balance of the story in Franklin's own words: 

Having heard that he had in his library a certain very scarce and 

curious book, I wrote a note to him, expressing my desire of 

perusing that book and requesting that he would do me the favour of 

lending it to me for a few days. 

He sent it immediately, and I returned it in about a week with 

another note expressing strongly my sense of the favour. 

When next we met in the House, he spoke to me (which he had 

never done before) and with great civility and he ever afterward 

manifested a readiness to serve me on all occasions, so that we 

became great friends and our friendship continued to his death. 

Ben Franklin has been dead now for a hundred and fifty years, but 

the psychology that he used, the psychology of asking the other man 

to do you a favour, goes marching right on. 

For example, it was used with remarkable success by one of my 

students, Albert B. Amsel. For years, Mr Amsel, a salesman of 

plumbing and heating materials, had been trying to get the trade of 

a certain plumber in Brooklyn. This plumber's business was 

exceptionally large and his credit unusually good. But Amsel was 

licked from the beginning. The plumber was one of those 

disconcerting individuals who pride themselves on being rough, 

tough, and nasty. Sitting behind his desk with a big cigar tilted in the 

corner of his mouth, he snarled at Amsel every time he opened the 

door, "Don't need a thing today! Don't waste my time and yours! 

Keep moving!" 

Then one day Mr Amsel tried a new technique, a technique that split 

the account wide open, made a friend, and brought many fine 

orders. Amsel's firm was negotiating for the purchase of a new 

branch store in Queens Village on Long Island. It was a 

neighbourhood the plumber knew well, and one where he did a great 

deal of business. So this time, when Mr Amsel called, he said: "Mr 

C——, I'm not here to sell you anything today. I've got to ask you to 

do me a favour, if you will. Can you spare me just a minute of your 

time?" 

"H'm—well," said the plumber, shifting his cigar. "What's on your 

mind? Shoot." 

"My firm is thinking of. opening up a branch store over in Queens 

Village," Mr Amsel said. "Now, you know that locality as well as

anyone living. So I've come to you to ask what you think about it. Is 

it a wise move—or not?" 

Here was a new situation! For years this plumber had been getting 

his feeling of importance out of snarling at salesmen and ordering 

them to keep moving. But here was a salesman begging him for 

advice; yes, a salesman from a big concern wanting his opinion as to 

what they should do. 

"Sit down," he said, pulling forward a chair. And for the next hour, 

he expatiated on the peculiar advantages and virtues of the 

plumbing market in Queens Village. He not only approved the 

location of the store, but he focused his intellect on outlining a 

complete course of action for the purchase of the property, the 

stocking of supplies, and the opening of trade. He got a feeling of 

importance by telling a wholesale plumbing concern how to run its 

business. From there, he expanded into personal grounds. He 

became friendly, and told Mr Amsel of his intimate domestic 

difficulties and household wars. 

"By the time I left that evening," Mr Amsel says, "I not only had in 

my pocket a large initial order for equipment, but I had laid the 

foundations of a solid business friendship. I am playing golf now with 

this chap who formerly barked and snarled at me. This change in his 

attitude was brought about by my asking him to do me a little favour 

that made him feel important." 

Let's examine another of Ken Dyke's letters, and again note how 

skilfully he applies this "do-me-a-favour" psychology. 

A few years ago, Mr Dyke was distressed at his inability to get 

business men, contractors, and architects to answer his letters 

asking for information. 

In those days, he seldom got more than 1 per cent return from his 

letters to architects and engineers. He would have regarded 2 per 

cent as very good, and 3 per cent as excellent. And 10 per cent? 

Why, 10 per cent would have been hailed as a miracle. But the letter 

that follows pulled almost 50 per cent. ... Five times as good as a 

miracle. And what replies! Letters of two and three pages! Letters 

glowing with friendly advice and co-operation. 

Here is the letter. You will observe that in the psychology used— 

even in the phraseology in some places—the letter is almost identical 

with that quoted on pages 188-89. As you peruse this letter, read 

between the lines, try to analyze the feeling of the man who got it. 

Find out why it produced results five times as good as a miracle. 

Johns-Manville 

22 EAST 40th STREET

NEW YORK CITY 

Mr John Doe, 

617 Doe Street, 

Doeville, N.J. 

Dear Mr Doe: 

I wonder if you'll help me out of a little difficulty? 

About a year ago I persuaded our company that one of the things 

architects most needed was a catalogue which would give them the 

whole story of all J-M building materials and their part in repairing 

and remodelling homes. 

The attached catalogue resulted—the first of its kind. But now our 

stock is getting low, and when I mentioned it to our president he 

said (as presidents will) that he would have no objection to another 

edition provided / furnished satisfactory evidence that the catalogue 

had done the job for which it was designed. 

Naturally, I must come to you for help, and 7 am therefore taking 

the liberty of asking you and forty-nine other architects in various 

parts of the country to be the jury. 

To make it quite easy for you, I have written a few simple questions 

on the back of this letter. And I'll certainly regard it as a personal 

favour if you'll check the answers, add any comments that you may 

wish to make, and then slip this letter into the enclosed stamped 

envelope. 

Needless to say, this won't obligate you in any way, and I now leave 

it to you to say whether the catalogue shall be discontinued or 

reprinted with improvements based on your experience and advice. 

In any event, rest assured that I shall appreciate your co-operation 

very much. Thank you! 

Sincerely yours, KEN R. DYKE, Sales Promotion Manager. 

Another word of warning. I know from experience that some men, 

reading this letter, will try to use the same psychology mechanically. 

They will try to boost the other man's ego, not through genuine, real 

appreciation, but through flattery and insincerity. And their technique 

won't work. 

Remember, we all crave appreciation and recognition, and will do 

almost anything to get it. But nobody wants insincerity. Nobody 

wants flattery.

Let me repeat: the principles taught in this book will work only when 

they come from the heart. I am not advocating a bag of tricks. I am 

talking about a new way of life. 

------------------------------- 

Part VI: Seven Rules for Making Your Home Life Happier 

1 - How To Dig Your Marital Grave In The Quickest Possible Way 

Seventy-Five years ago, Napoleon III of France, nephew of Napoleon 

Bonaparte, fell in love with Marie Eugenic Ignace Augustine de 

Montijo, Countess of Teba, the most beautiful woman in the world— 

and married her. His advisors pointed out that she was only the 

daughter of an insignificant Spanish count. But Napoleon retorted: 

"What of it?" Her grace, her youth, her charm, her beauty filled him 

with divine felicity. In a speech hurled from the throne, he defied an 

entire nation: "I have preferred a woman I love and respect," he 

proclaimed, "to a woman unknown to me." 

Napoleon and his bride had health, wealth, power, fame, beauty, 

love, adoration—all the requirements for a perfect romance. Never 

did the sacred fire of marriage glow with a brighter incandescence. 

But, alas, the holy flame soon flickered and the incandescence 

cooled—and turned to embers. Napoleon could make Eugenic an 

empress; but nothing in all la belle France, neither the power of his 

love nor the might of his throne, could keep her from nagging. 

Bedeviled by jealousy, devoured by suspicion, she flouted his orders, 

she denied him even a show of privacy. She broke into his office 

while he was engaged in affairs of state. She interrupted his most 

important discussions. She refused to leave him alone, always 

fearing that he might be consorting with another woman. 

Often she ran to her sister, complaining of her husband, 

complaining, weeping, nagging, and threatening. Forcing her way 

into his study, she stormed at him and abused him. Napoleon, 

master of a dozen sumptuous palaces, Emperor of France, could not 

find a cupboard in which he could call his soul his own. 

And what did Eugenic accomplish by all this? Here is the answer. I 

am quoting now from E.A. Rheinhardt's engrossing book, Napoleon 

and Eugenic: The Tragicomedy of an Empire: "So it came about that 

Napoleon frequently would steal out by a little side door at night, 

with a soft hat pulled over his eyes, and, accompanied by one of his 

intimates, really betake himself to some fair lady who was expecting 

him, or else stroll about the great city as of old, passing through 

streets of the kind which an Emperor hardly sees outside a fairy tale, 

and breathing the atmosphere of might-have-beens."

That is what nagging accomplished for Eugenic. True, she sat on the 

throne of France. True, she was the most beautiful woman in the 

world. But neither royalty nor beauty can keep love alive amidst the 

poisonous fumes of nagging. Eugenic could have raised her voice like 

Job of old and have wailed: "The thing which I greatly feared is 

come upon me." Come upon her? She brought it upon herself, poor 

woman, by her jealousy and her nagging. Of all the sure-fire, infernal 

devices ever invented by all the devils in hell for destroying love, 

nagging is the deadliest. It never fails. Like the bite of the king 

cobra, it always destroys, always kills. 

The wife of Count Leo Tolstoi discovered that—after it was too late. 

Before she passed away, she confessed to her daughters: "I was the 

cause of your father's death." Her daughters didn't reply. They were 

both crying. They knew their mother was telling the truth. They 

knew she had killed him with her constant complaining, her eternal 

criticisms, and her eternal nagging. Yet Count Tolstoi and his wife 

ought, by all odds, to have been happy. He was one of the most 

famous novelists of all time. Two of his masterpieces, War and Peace 

and Anna Karenina will forever shine brightly among the literary 

glories of earth. 

Tolstoi was so famous that his admirers followed him around day 

and night and took down in shorthand every word he uttered. Even if 

he merely said, "I guess I'll go to bed"; even trivial words like that, 

everything was written down; and now the Russian Government is 

printing every sentence that he ever wrote; and his combined 

writings will fill one hundred volumes. 

In addition to fame, Tolstoi and his wife had wealth, social position, 

children. No marriage ever blossomed under softer skies. In the 

beginning, their happiness seemed too perfect, too intense, to 

endure. So kneeling together, they prayed to Almighty God to 

continue the ecstasy that was theirs. Then an astonishing thing 

happened. Tolstoi gradually changed. He became a totally different 

person. He became ashamed of the great books that he had written, 

and from that time on he devoted his life to writing pamphlets 

preaching peace and the abolition of war and poverty. 

This man who had once confessed that in his youth he had 

committed every sin imaginable—even murder—tried to follow 

literally the teachings of Jesus. He gave all his lands away and lived a 

life of poverty. He worked in the fields, chopping wood and pitching 

hay. He made his own shoes, swept his own room, ate out of a 

wooden bowl, and tried to love his enemies. 

Leo Tolstoi's life was a tragedy, and the cause of his tragedy was his 

marriage. His wife loved luxury, but he despised it. She craved fame 

and the plaudits of society, but these frivolous things meant nothing 

whatever to him. She longed for money and riches, but he believed

that wealth and private property were a sin. For years, she nagged 

and scolded and screamed because he insisted on giving away the 

right to publish his books freely without paying him any royalties 

whatever. She wanted the money those books would produce. When 

he opposed her, she threw herself into fits of hysteria, rolling on the 

floor with a bottle of opium at her lips, swearing that she was going 

to kill herself and threatening to jump down the well. 

There is one event in their lives that to me is one of the most 

pathetic scenes in history. As I have already, said, they were 

gloriously happy when they were first married; but now, forty-eight 

years later, he could hardly bear the sight of her. Sometimes of an 

evening, this old and heartbroken wife, starving for affection, came 

and knelt at his knees and begged him to read aloud to her the 

exquisite love passages that he had written about her in his diary 

fifty years previously. And as he read of those beautiful, happy days 

that were now gone forever, both of them wept. How different, how 

sharply different, the realities of life were from the romantic dreams 

they had once dreamed in the long ago. 

Finally, when he was eighty-two years old, Tolstoi was unable to 

endure the tragic unhappiness of his home any longer so he fled 

from his wife on a snowy October night in 1910—fled into the cold 

and darkness, not knowing where he was going. 

Eleven days later, he died of pneumonia in a railway station. And his 

dying request was that she should not be permitted to come into his 

presence. Such was the price Countess Tolstoi paid for her nagging 

and complaining and hysteria. 

The reader may feel that she had much to nag about. Granted. But 

that is beside the point. The question is: did nagging help her, or did 

it make a bad matter infinitely worse? "I really think I was insane." 

That is what Countess Tolstoi herself thought about it—after it was 

too late. 

The great tragedy of Abraham Lincoln's life also was his marriage. 

Not his assassination, mind you, but his marriage. When Booth fired, 

Lincoln never realized he had been shot; but he reaped almost daily, 

for twenty-three years, what Herndon, his law partner, described as 

"the bitter harvest of conjugal infelicity." "Conjugal infelicity?" That is 

putting it mildly. For almost a quarter of a century, Mrs Lincoln 

nagged and harassed the life out of him. 

She was always complaining, always criticizing her husband; nothing 

about him was ever right. He was stoop-shouldered, he walked 

awkwardly and lifted his feet straight up and down like an Indian. 

She complained that there was no spring in his step, no grace to his 

movement; and she mimicked his gait and nagged at him to walk

with his toes pointed down, as she had been taught at Madame 

Mentelle's boarding school in Lexington. 

She didn't like the way his huge ears stood out at right angles from 

his head. She even told him that his nose wasn't straight, that his 

lower lip stuck out, and he looked consumptive, that his feet and 

hands were too large, his head too small. 

Abraham Lincoln and Mary Todd Lincoln were opposites in every 

way: in training, in background, in temperament, in tastes, in mental 

outlook. They irritated each other constantly. 

"Mrs Lincoln's loud, shrill voice," wrote the late Senator Albert J. 

Beveridge, the most distinguished Lincoln authority of this 

generation—"Mrs Lincoln's loud shrill voice could be heard across the 

street, and her incessant outbursts of wrath were audible to all who 

lived near the house. Frequently her anger was displayed by other 

means than words, and accounts of her violence are numerous and 

unimpeachable." 

To illustrate: Mr and Mrs Lincoln, shortly after their marriage, lived 

with Mrs Jacob Early—a doctor's widow in Springfield who was forced 

to take in boarders. 

One morning Mr and Mrs Lincoln were having breakfast when Lincoln 

did something that aroused the fiery temper of his wife. What, no 

one remembers now. But Mrs Lincoln, in a rage, dashed a cup of hot 

coffee into her husband's face. And she did it in front of the other 

boarders. Saying nothing, Lincoln sat there in humiliation and silence 

while Mrs Early came with a wet towel and wiped off his face and 

clothes. 

Mrs Lincoln's jealousy was so foolish, so fierce, so incredible, that 

merely to read about some of the pathetic and disgraceful scenes 

she created in public—merely reading about them seventy-five years 

later makes one gasp with astonishment. She finally went insane; 

and perhaps the most charitable thing one can say about her is that 

her disposition was probably always affected by incipient insanity. 

Did all this nagging and scolding and raging change Lincoln? In one 

way, yes. It certainly changed his attitude toward her. It made him 

regret his unfortunate marriage, and it made him avoid her presence 

as much as possible. 

Springfield had eleven attorneys, and they couldn't all make a living 

there; so they used to ride horseback from one county seat to 

another, following Judge David Davis while he was holding court in 

various places. In that way, they managed to pick up business from 

all the county seat towns throughout the Eighth Judicial District.

The other attorneys always managed to get back to Springfield each 

Saturday and spend the week-end with their families. But Lincoln 

didn't. He dreaded to go home: and for three months in the spring, 

and again for three months in the autumn, he remained out on the 

circuit and never went near Springfield. He kept this up year after 

year. Living conditions in the country hotels were often wretched; 

but, wretched as they were, he preferred them to his own home and 

Mrs Lincoln's constant nagging and wild outbursts of temper. 

Such are the results that Mrs Lincoln, the Empress Eugenic, and 

Countess Tolstoi obtained by their nagging. They brought nothing 

but tragedy into their lives. They destroyed all that they cherished 

most. 

Bessie Hamburger, who has spent eleven years in the Domestic 

Relations Court in New York City, and has reviewed thousands of 

cases of desertion, says that one of the chief reasons men leave 

home is because their wives nag. Or, as the Boston Post puts it: 

"Many a wife has made her own marital grave with a series of little 

digs." 

So, if you want to keep your home life happy, 

• Rule 1 is: Don't, don't nag!!! 

~~~~~~~ 

2 - Love And Let Live 

"I May Commit many follies in life," Disraeli said, "but I never intend 

to marry for love." And he didn't. He stayed single until he was 

thirty-five, and then he proposed to a rich widow, a widow fifteen 

years his senior; a widow whose hair was white with the passing of 

fifty winters. Love? Oh, no. She knew he didn't love her. She knew 

he was marrying her for her money! So she made just one request: 

she asked him to wait a year to give her the opportunity to study his 

character. And at the end of that time, she married him. 

Sounds pretty prosaic, pretty commercial, doesn't it? Yet 

paradoxically enough, Disraeli's marriage was one of the most 

glowing successes in all the battered and bespattered annals of 

matrimony. 

The rich widow that Disraeli chose was neither young, nor beautiful, 

nor brilliant. Far from it. Her conversation bubbled with a laughprovoking 

display of literary and historical blunders. For example, she 

"never knew which came first, the Greeks or the Romans." Her taste 

in clothes was bizarre; and her taste in house furnishings was 

fantastic. But she was a genius, a positive genius at the most 

important thing in marriage: the art of handling men.

She didn't attempt to set up her intellect against Disraeli's. When he 

came home bored and exhausted after an afternoon of matching 

repartee with witty duchesses, Mary Anne's frivolous patter permitted 

him to relax. Home, to his increasing delight, was a place where he 

could ease into his mental slippers and bask in the warmth of Mary 

Anne's adoration. These hours he spent at home with his ageing wife 

were the happiest of his life. She was his helpmate, his confidante, 

his advisor. Every night he hurried home from the House of 

Commons to tell her the day's news. And—this is important— 

whatever he undertook, Mary Anne simply did not believe he could 

fail. 

For thirty years, Mary Anne lived for Disraeli, and for him alone. Even 

her wealth she valued only because it made his life easier. In return, 

she was his heroine. He became an Earl after she died; but, even 

while he was still a commoner, he persuaded Queen Victoria to 

elevate Mary Anne to the peerage. And so, in 1868, she was made 

Viscountess Beaconsfield. 

No matter how silly or scatterbrained she might appear in public, he 

never criticized her; he never uttered a word of reproach; and if 

anyone dared to ridicule her, he sprang to her defence with ferocious 

loyalty. Mary Anne wasn't perfect, yet for three decades she never 

tired of talking" about her husband, praising him, admiring him. 

Result? "We have been married thirty years," Disraeli said, "and I 

have never been bored by her." (Yet some people thought because 

Mary Anne didn't know history, she must be stupid!) 

For his part, Disraeli never made it any secret that Mary Anne was 

the most important thing in his life. Result? "Thanks to his kindness," 

Mary Anne used to tell their friends, "my life has been simply one 

long scene of happiness." Between them, they had a little joke. "You 

know," Disraeli would say, "I only married you for your money 

anyhow." And Mary Anne, smiling, would reply, "Yes, but if you had 

it to do over again, you'd marry me for love, wouldn't you?" And he 

admitted it was true. No, Mary Anne wasn't perfect. But Disraeli was 

wise enough to let her be herself. 

As Henry James put it: "The first thing to learn in. intercourse with 

others is noninterference with their own peculiar ways of being 

happy, provided those ways do not assume to interfere by violence 

with ours." 

That's important enough to repeat: "The first thing to learn in 

intercourse with others is noninterference with their own peculiar 

ways of being happy ..." 

Or, as Leland Foster Wood in his book, Growing Together in the 

Family, has observed: "Success in marriage is much more than a

matter of finding the right person; it is also a matter of being the 

right person." 

So, if you want your home life to be happy, 

• Rule 2 is: Don't try to make your partner over. 

~~~~~~~ 

3 - Do This And You'll Be Looking Up The Time-Tables To Reno 

Disraeli's bitterest rival in public life was the great Gladstone. These 

two clashed on every debatable subject under the Empire, yet they 

had one thing in common; the supreme happiness of their private 

lives. 

William and Catherine Gladstone lived together for fifty-nine years, 

almost three score years glorified with an abiding devotion. I like to 

think of Gladstone, the most dignified of England's prime ministers, 

clasping his wife's hand and dancing around the hearthrug with her, 

singing this song: 

A ragamuffin husband and a rantipoling wife, 

We'll fiddle it and scrape it 

through the ups and downs 

of life. 

Gladstone, a formidable enemy in public, never criticized at home. 

When he came down to breakfast in the morning, only to discover 

that the rest of his family was still sleeping, he had a gentle way of 

registering his reproach. He raised his voice and filled the house with 

a mysterious chant that reminded the other members that England's 

busiest man was waiting downstairs for his breakfast, all alone. 

Diplomatic, considerate, he rigorously refrained from domestic 

criticism. 

And so, often, did Catherine the Great. Catherine ruled one of the 

largest empires the world has ever known. Over millions of her 

subjects she held the power of life and death. Politically, she was 

often a cruel tyrant, waging useless wars and sentencing scores of 

her enemies to be cut down by firing squads. Yet if the cook burned 

the meat, she said nothing. She smiled and ate it with a tolerance 

that the average American husband would do well to emulate. 

Dorothy Dix, America's premier authority on the causes of marital 

unhappiness, declares that more than fifty per cent of all marriages 

are failures; and she knows that one of the reasons why so many 

romantic dreams break up on the rocks of Reno is criticism—futile, 

heartbreaking criticism.

So, if you want to keep your home life happy, remember Rule 3: 

Don't criticize. 

And if you are tempted to criticize the children . . . you imagine I am 

going to say don't. But I am not. I am merely going to say, before 

you criticize them, read one of the classics of American journalism, 

"Father Forgets." It appeared originally as an editorial in the People's 

Home Journal. We are reprinting it here with the author's 

permission—reprinting it as it was condensed in the Reader's Digest: 

"Father Forgets" is one of those little pieces which— dashed off in a 

moment of sincere feeling—strikes an echoing chord in so many 

readers as to become a perennial reprint favourite. Since its first 

appearance, some fifteen years ago, "Father Forgets" has been 

reproduced, writes the author, W. Livingston Larned, "in hundreds of 

magazines and house organs, and in newspapers the country over. It 

has been reprinted almost as extensively in many foreign languages. 

I have given personal permission to thousands who wished to read it 

from school, church, and lecture platforms. It has been 'on the air' 

on countless occasions and programmes. Oddly enough, college 

periodicals have used it, and high-school magazines. Sometimes a 

little piece seems mysteriously to 'click.' This one certainly did." 

Father Forgets 

W. Livingston Larned 

Listen, son: I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw 

crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your 

damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few 

minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave 

of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside. 

These are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I 

scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your 

face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning 

your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things 

on the floor. 

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down 

your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too 

thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for 

my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, "Good-bye, 

Daddy!" and I frowned, and said in reply, "Hold your Shoulders 

back!" 

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the 

road I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were 

holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before your boy friends by 

marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive—

and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine 

that, son, from a father! 

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you 

came in, timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I 

glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you 

hesitated at the door. "What is it you want?" I snapped. 

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and 

threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small 

arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your 

heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were 

gone, pattering up the stairs. 

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my 

hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit 

been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding—this 

was my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not love 

you; it was that I expected too much of youth. It was measuring you 

by the yardstick of my own years. 

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your 

character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself over 

the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush 

in and kiss me goodnight. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have 

come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, 

ashamed! 

It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these 

things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow 

I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you 

suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when 

impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: "He is 

nothing but a boy—a little boy!" 

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, 

son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. 

Yesterday you were in your mother's arms, your head on her 

shoulder. I have asked too much, too much. 

~~~~~~~ 

4 - A Quick Way To Make Everybody Happy 

"Most Men when seeking wives," says Paul Popenoe, Director of the 

Institute of Family Relations in Los Angeles, "are not looking for 

executives but for someone with allure and willingness to flatter their 

vanity and make them feel superior. Hence the woman office 

manager may be invited to luncheon, once. But she quite possibly 

dishes out warmed-over remnants of her college courses on 'main

currents in contemporary philosophy,' and may even insist on paying 

her own bill. Result: she thereafter lunches alone. 

"In contrast, the noncollegiate typist, when invited to luncheon, fixes 

an incandescent gaze on her escort and says yearningly, 'Now tell 

me some more about yourself.' Result: he tells the other fellows that 

'she's no raving beauty, but I have never met a better talker.'" 

Men should express their appreciation of a woman's effort to look 

well and dress becomingly. All men forget, if they have ever realized 

it, how profoundly women are interested in clothes. For example, if a 

man and woman meet another man and woman on the street, the 

woman seldom looks at the other man; she usually looks to see how 

well the other woman is dressed. 

My grandmother died a few years ago at the age of ninety-eight. 

Shortly before her death, we showed her a photograph of herself 

that had been taken a third of a century earlier. Her failing eyes 

couldn't see the picture very well, and the only question she asked 

was: "What dress did I have on?" Think of it! An old woman in her 

last December, bedridden, weary with age as she lay within the 

shadow of the century mark, her memory fading so fast that she was 

no longer able to recognize even her own daughters, still interested 

in knowing what dress she had worn a third of a century before! I 

was at her bedside when she asked that question. It left an 

impression on me that will never fade. 

The men who are reading these lines can't remember what suits or 

shirts they wore five years ago, and they haven't the remotest desire 

to remember them. But women—they are different, and we 

American men ought to recognize it. French boys of the upper class 

are trained to express their admiration of a woman's frock and 

chapeau, not only once but many times during an evening. And fifty 

million Frenchmen can't be wrong! 

I have among my clippings a story that I know never happened, but 

it illustrates a truth, so I'll repeat it: 

According to this silly story, a farm woman, at the end of a heavy 

day's work, set before her men folks a heaping pile of hay. And when 

they indignantly demanded whether she'd gone crazy, she replied: 

"Why, how did I know you'd notice? I've been cooking for you men 

for the last twenty years, and in all that time I ain't heard no word to 

let me know you wasn't just eating hay!" 

The pampered aristocrats of Moscow and St Petersburg used to have 

better manners; in the Russia of the Czars, it was the custom of the 

upper classes, when they had enjoyed a fine dinner, to insist on 

having the cook brought into the dining room to receive their 

congratulations.

Why not have as much consideration for your wife? The next time 

the fried chicken is done to a tender turn, tell her so. Let her know 

that you appreciate the fact that you're not just eating hay. Or, as 

Texas Guinan used to say, "Give the little girl a great big hand." 

And while you're about it, don't be afraid to let her know how 

important she is to your happiness. Disraeli was as great a 

statesman as England ever produced; yet, as we've seen, he wasn't 

ashamed to let the world know how much he "owed to the little 

woman." 

Just the other day, while perusing a magazine, I came across this. 

It's from an interview with Eddie Cantor. 

"I owe more to my wife," says Eddie Cantor, "than to anyone else in 

the world. She was my best pal as a boy; she helped me to go 

straight. And after we married she saved every dollar, and invested 

it, and reinvested it. She built up a fortune for me. We have five 

lovely children. And she's made a wonderful home for me always. If 

I've gotten anywhere, give her the credit." 

Out in Hollywood, where marriage is a risk that even Lloyd's of 

London wouldn't take a gamble on, one of the few outstandingly 

happy marriages is that of the Warner Baxters. Mrs Baxter, the 

former Winifred Bryson, gave up a brilliant stage career when she 

married. Yet her sacrifice has never been permitted to mar their 

happiness. "She missed the applause of stage success," Warner 

Baxter says, "but I have tried to see that she is entirely aware of my 

applause. If a woman is to find happiness at all in her husband, she 

is to find it in his appreciation, and devotion. If that appreciation and 

devotion is actual, there is the answer to his happiness also." 

There you are. So, if you want to keep your home life happy, one of 

the most important rules is 

• Rule 4: Give honest appreciation. 

~~~~~~~ 

5 - They Mean So Much To A Woman 

From Time immemorial, flowers have been considered the language 

of love. They don't cost much, especially in season, and often they're 

for sale on the street corners. Yet, considering the rarity with which 

the average husband takes home a bunch of daffodils, you might 

suppose them to be as expensive as orchids and as hard to come by 

as the edelweiss which flowers on the cloud-swept cliffs of the Alps.

Why wait until your wife goes to the hospital to give her a few 

flowers? Why not bring her a few roses tomorrow night? You like to 

experiment. Try it. See what happens. 

George M. Cohan, busy as he was on Broadway, used to telephone 

his mother twice a day up to the time of her death. Do you suppose 

he had startling news for her each time? No, the meaning of little 

attentions is this: it shows the person you love that you are thinking 

of her, that you want to please her, and that her happiness and 

welfare are very dear, and very near, to your heart. 

Women attach a lot of importance to birthdays and anniversaries— 

just why, will forever remain one of those feminine mysteries. The 

average man can blunder through life without memorizing many 

dates, but there are a few which are indispensable: 1492, 1776, the 

date of his wife's birthday, and the year and date of his own 

marriage. If need be, he can even get along without the first two— 

but not the last! 

Judge Joseph Sabbath of Chicago, who has reviewed 40,000 marital 

disputes and reconciled 2,000 couples, says: "Trivialities are at the 

bottom of most marital unhappiness. Such a simple thing as a wife's 

waving good-bye to her husband when he goes to work in the 

morning would avert a good many divorces." 

Robert Browning, whose life with Elizabeth Barrett Browning was 

perhaps the most idyllic on record, was never too busy to keep love 

alive with little, tributes and attentions. He treated his invalid wife 

with such consideration that she once wrote to her sisters: "And now 

I begin to wonder naturally whether I may not be some sort of real 

angel after all." 

Too many men underestimate the value of these small, everyday 

attentions. As Gaynor Maddox said in an article in the Pictorial 

Review: "The American home really needs a few new vices. 

Breakfast in bed, for instance, is one of those amiable dissipations a 

greater number of women should be indulged in. Breakfast in bed to 

a woman does much the same thing as a private club for a man." 

That's what marriage is in the long run—a series of trivial incidents. 

And woe to the couple who overlook that fact. Edna St. Vincent 

Millay summed it all up once in one of her concise little rhymes: 

" 'Tis not love's going hurts my days, But that it went in little ways." 

That's a good verse to memorize. Out in Reno, the courts grant 

divorces six days a week, at the rate of one every ten marriages. 

How many of these marriages do you suppose were wrecked upon 

the reef of real tragedy? Mighty few, I'll warrant. If you could sit

there day in, day out, listening to the testimony of those unhappy 

husbands and wives, you'd know love "went in little ways." 

Take your pocket knife now and cut out this quotation. Paste it inside 

your hat or paste it on the mirror, where you will see it every 

morning when you shave: 

"I shall pass this way but once; any good, therefore, that I can do or 

any kindness that I can show to any human being, let me do it now. 

Let me not defer nor neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again." 

So, if you want to keep your home life happy, 

• Rule 5 is: Pay little attentions. 

~~~~~~~ 

6 - If You Want To Be Happy, Don't Neglect This One 

Walter Damrosch married the daughter of James G. Blaine, one of 

America's greatest orators and one-time candidate for President. 

Ever since they met many years ago at Andrew Carnegie's home in 

Scotland, the Damroschs have led a conspicuously happy life. 

The secret? 

"Next to care in choosing a partner,". says Mrs Damrosch, "I should 

place courtesy after marriage. If young wives would only be as 

courteous to their husbands as to strangers! Any man will run from a 

shrewish tongue." 

Rudeness is the cancer that devours love. Everyone knows this, yet 

it's notorious that we are more polite to strangers than we are to our 

own relatives. We wouldn't dream of interrupting strangers to say, 

"Good heavens, are you going to tell that old story again!" We 

wouldn't dream of opening our friends' mail without permission, or 

prying into their personal secrets. And it's only the members of our 

own family, those who are nearest and dearest to us, that we dare 

insult for their trivial faults. 

Again to quote Dorothy Dix: "It is an amazing but true thing that 

practically the only people who ever say mean, insulting, wounding 

things to us are those of our own households." 

"Courtesy," says Henry Clay Risner, "is that quality of heart that 

overlooks the broken gate and calls attention to the flowers in the 

yard beyond the gate." Courtesy is just as important to marriage as 

oil is to your motor.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, the beloved "Autocrat of the Breakfast 

Table," was anything but an autocrat in his own home. In fact, he 

carried his consideration so far that when he felt melancholy and 

depressed, he tried to conceal his blues from the rest of his family. It 

was bad enough for him to have to bear them himself, he said, 

without inflicting them on the others as well. 

That is what Oliver Wendell Holmes did. But what about the average 

mortal? Things go wrong at the office; he loses a sale or gets called 

on the carpet by the boss. He develops a devastating headache or 

misses the five-fifteen; and he can hardly wait till he gets home—to 

take it out on the family. 

In Holland you leave your shoes outside on the doorstep before you 

enter the house. By the Lord Harry, we could learn a lesson from the 

Dutch and shed our workaday troubles before we enter our homes. 

William James once wrote an essay called "On a Certain Blindness in 

Human Beings." It would be worth a special trip to your nearest 

library to get that essay and read it. "Now the blindness in human 

beings of which this discourse will treat," he wrote, "is the blindness 

with which we all are afflicted in regard to the feelings of creatures 

and people different from ourselves." 

"The blindness with which we all are afflicted." Many men who 

wouldn't dream of speaking sharply to a customer, or even to their 

partners in business, think nothing of barking at their wives. Yet, for 

their personal happiness, marriage is far more important to them, far 

more vital, than business. 

The average man who is happily married is happier by far than the 

genius who lives in solitude. Turgenev, the great Russian novelist, 

was acclaimed all over the civilized world. Yet he said: "I would give 

up all my genius, and all my books, if there were only some woman, 

somewhere, who cared whether or not I came home late for dinner." 

What are the chances of happiness in marriage anyway? Dorothy 

Dix, as we have already said, believes that more than half of them 

are failures; but Dr Paul Popenoe thinks otherwise. He says: "A man 

has a better chance of succeeding in marriage than in any other 

enterprise he may go into. Of all the men that go into the grocery 

business, 70 per cent fail. Of the men and women who enter 

matrimony, 70 per cent succeed." 

Dorothy Dix sums the whole thing up like this: "Compared with 

marriage," she says, "being born is a mere episode in our careers, 

and dying a trivial incident.

"No woman can ever understand why a man doesn't put forth the 

same effort to make his home a going concern as he does to make 

his business or profession a success. 

"But, although to have a contented wife and a peaceful and happy 

home means more to a man than to make a million dollars, not one 

man in a hundred ever gives any real serious thought or makes any 

honest effort to make his marriage a success. He leaves the most 

important thing in his life to chance, and he wins out or loses, 

according to whether fortune is with him or not. Women can never 

understand why their husbands refuse to handle them diplomatically, 

when it would be money in their pockets to use the velvet glove 

instead of the strong-arm method. 

"Every man knows that he can jolly his wife into doing anything, and 

doing without anything. He knows that if he hands her a few cheap 

compliments about what a wonderful manager she is, and how she 

helps him, she will squeeze every nickel. Every man knows that if he 

tells his wife how beautiful and lovely she looks in her last year's 

dress, she wouldn't trade it for the latest Paris importation. Every 

man knows that he can kiss his wife's eyes shut until she will be 

blind as a bat, and that he has only to give her a warm smack on the 

lips to make her dumb as an oyster. 

"And every wife knows that her husband knows these things about 

her, because she has furnished him with a complete diagram about 

how to work her. And she never knows whether to be mad at him or 

disgusted with him, because he would rather fight with her and pay 

for it in having to eat bad meals, and have his money wasted, and 

buy her new frocks and limousines and pearls, than to take the 

trouble to flatter her a little and treat her the way she is begging to 

be treated." 

So, if you want to keep your home life happy. 

• Rule 6 is: Be courteous. 

~~~~~~~ 

7 - Don't Be A "Marriage Illiterate" 

Dr Katherine Bement Davis, general secretary of the Bureau of Social 

Hygiene, once induced a thousand married women to reply very 

frankly to a set of intimate questions. The result was shocking—an 

incredibly shocking comment upon the sexual unhappiness of the 

average American adult. After perusing the answers she received 

from these thousand married women, Dr Davis published without 

hesitation her conviction that one of the chief causes of divorce in 

this country is physical mismating.

Dr G. V. Hamilton's survey verifies this finding. Dr Hamilton spent 

four years studying the marriages of one hundred men and one 

hundred women. He asked these men and women individually 

something like four hundred questions concerning their married lives, 

and discussed their problems exhaustively—so exhaustively that the 

whole investigation took four years. This work was considered so 

important sociologically that it was financed by a group of leading 

philanthropists. You can read the results of the experiment in What's 

Wrong with Marriage? by Dr G.V. Hamilton and Kenneth Macgowan. 

Well, what is wrong with marriage? "It would take a very prejudiced 

and very reckless psychiatrist," says Dr Hamilton, "to say that most 

married friction doesn't find its source in sexual maladjustment. At 

any rate, the frictions which arise from other difficulties would be 

ignored in many, many cases if the sexual relation itself were 

satisfactory." 

Dr Paul Popenoe, as head of the Institute of Family Relations in Los 

Angeles, has reviewed thousands of marriages and he is one of 

America's foremost authorities on home life. According to Dr 

Popenoe, failure in marriage is usually due to four causes. He lists 

them in this order: 

• 1. Sexual maladjustment. 

• 2. Difference of opinion as to the way of spending leisure time. 

• 3. Financial difficulties. 

• 4. Mental, physical, or emotional abnormalities. 

Notice that sex comes first; and that, strangely enough, money 

difficulties come only third on the list. 

All authorities on divorce agree upon the absolute necessity for 

sexual compatibility. For example, a few years ago Judge Hoffman of 

the Domestic Relations Court of Cincinnati—a man who has listened 

to thousands of domestic tragedies—announced: "Nine out of ten 

divorces are caused by sexual troubles." 

"Sex," says the famous psychologist, John B. Watson, "is admittedly 

the most important subject in life. It is admittedly the thing which 

causes the most ship-wrecks in the happiness of men and women." 

And I have heard a number of practicing physicians in speeches 

before my own classes say practically the same thing. Isn't it pitiful, 

then, that in the twentieth century, with all of our books and all of 

our education, marriages should be destroyed and lives wrecked by 

ignorance concerning this most primal and natural instinct? 

The Rev. Oliver M. Butterfield after eighteen years as a Methodist 

minister gave up his pulpit to direct the Family Guidance Service in 

New York City, and he has probably married as many young people 

as any man living. He says:

"Early in my experience as a minister I discovered that, in spite of 

romance and good intentions, many couples who come to the 

marriage altar are matrimonial illiterates." Matrimonial illiterates! 

And he continues: "When you consider that we leave the highly 

difficult adjustment of marriage so largely to chance, the marvel is 

that our divorce rate is only 16 per cent. An appalling number of 

husbands and wives are not really married but simply undivorced: 

they live in a sort of purgatory." 

"Happy marriages," says Dr Butterfield, "are rarely the product of 

chance: they are architectural in that they are intelligently and 

deliberately planned." 

To assist in this planning, Dr Butterfield has for years insisted that 

any couple he marries must discuss with him frankly their plans for 

the future. And it was as a result of these discussions that he came 

to the conclusion that so many of the high contracting parties were 

"matrimonial illiterates." 

"Sex," says Dr Butterfield, "is but one of the many satisfactions in 

married life, but unless this relationship is right, nothing else can be 

right." 

But how to get it right? "Sentimental reticence"—I'm still quoting Dr 

Butterfield—"must be replaced by an ability to discuss objectively 

and with detachment attitudes and practices of married life. There is 

no way in which this ability can be better acquired than through a 

book of sound learning and good taste. I keep on hand several of 

these books in addition to a supply of my own booklet, Marriage and 

Sexual Harmony. 

"Of all the books that are available, the three that seem to me most 

satisfactory for general reading are: The Sex Technique in Marriage 

by Isabel E. Hutton; The Sexual Side of Marriage by Max Exner; The 

Sex Factor in Marriage by Helena Wright." 

So, 

• Rule 7 of "How to Make Your Home Life Happier" is: 'Read a good 

book on the sexual side of marriage. 

Learn about sex from books? Why not? A few years ago, Columbia 

University, together with the American Social Hygiene Association, 

invited leading educators to come and discuss the sex and marriage 

problems of college students. At that conference, Dr Paul Popenoe 

said: "Divorce is on the decrease. And one of the reasons it is on the 

decrease is that people are reading more of the recognized books on 

sex and marriage."

So I sincerely feel that I have no right to complete a chapter on 

"How to Make Your Home Life Happier" without recommending a list 

of books that deal frankly and in a scientific manner with this tragic 

problem. 

---- 

• The Sex Side Of Life, by Mary Ware Dennett. An explanation for 

young people. Published by the author, 24-30 29th Street, Long 

Island City, New York. 

• The Sexual Side Of Marriage, by M.J. Exner, M.D. A sound and 

temperate presentation of the sexual problems of marriage. W.W. 

Norton & Co., Inc., 70 Fifth Avenue, New York City. 

• Preparation For Marriage, by Kenneth Walker, M.D. A lucid 

exposition of marital problems. W.W. Norton & Co., Inc., 70 Fifth 

Avenue, New York City. 

• Married Love, by Marie C. Slopes. A frank discussion of marital 

relationships. G.P. Putman's Sons, 2 West 45th Street, New York 

City. 

• Sex In Marriage, by Ernest R. and Gladys H. Groves. An informative 

and comprehensive book. Emerson Books, Inc., 251 West 19th 

Street, New York City. 

• Preparation For Marriage, by Ernest R. Groves. Emerson Books, 

Inc., 251 West 19th Street, New York City. 

• The Married Woman, by Robert A. Ross, M.D., and Gladys H. 

Groves. A practical guide to happy marriage. Tower Books, World 

Publishing Company, 14 West 49th Street, New York City. 

---- 

In a Nutshell 

Seven Rules For Making Your Home Life Happier 

• Rule 1: Don't nag. 

• Rule 2: Don't try to make your partner over. 

• Rule 3: Don't criticize. 

• Rule 4: Give honest appreciation. 

• Rule 5: Pay little attentions. 

• Rule 6: Be courteous. 

• Rule 7: Read a good book on the sexual side of marriage.

In its issue for June, 1933, American Magazine printed an article by 

Emmet Crozier, "Why Marriages Go Wrong." The following is a 

questionnaire reprinted from that article. You may find it worth while 

to answer these questions, giving yourself ten points for each 

question you can answer in the affirmative. 

For Husbands 

1. Do you still "court" your wife with an occasional gift of flowers, 

with remembrances of her birthday and wedding anniversary, or with 

some unexpected attention, some unlooked-for tenderness? 

2. Are you careful never to criticize her before others? 

3. Do you give her money to spend entirely as she chooses, above 

the household expenses? 

4. Do you make an effort to understand her varying feminine moods 

and help her through periods of fatigue, nerves, and irritability? 

5. Do you share at least half of your recreation hours with your wife? 

6. Do you tactfully refrain from comparing your wife's cooking or 

housekeeping with that of your mother or of Bill Jones' wife, except 

to her advantage? 

7. Do you take a definite interest in her intellectual life, her clubs and 

societies, the books she reads, her views on civic problems? 

8. Can you let her dance with and receive friendly attentions from 

other men without making jealous remarks? 

9. Do you keep alert for opportunities to praise her and express your 

admiration for her? 

10. Do you thank her for the little jobs she does for you, such as 

sewing on a button, darning your socks, and sending your clothes to 

the cleaners? 

For Wives 

1. Do you give your husband complete freedom in his business 

affairs, and do you refrain from criticizing his associates, his choice of 

a secretary, or the hours he keeps? 

2. Do you try your best to make your home interesting and 

attractive? 

3. Do you vary the household menu so that he never quite knows 

what to expect when he sits down to the table?

4. Do you have an intelligent grasp of your husband's business so 

you can discuss it with him helpfully? 

5. Can you meet financial reverses bravely, cheerfully, without 

criticizing your husband for his mistakes or comparing him 

unfavourably with more successful men? 

6. Do you make a special effort to get along amiably with his mother 

or other relatives? 

7. Do you dress with an eye for your husband's likes and dislikes in 

colour and style? 

8. Do you compromise little differences of opinion in the interest of 

harmony? 

9. Do you make an effort to learn games your husband likes, so you 

can share his leisure hours? 

10. Do you keep track of the day's news, the new books, and new 

ideas, so you can hold your husband's intellectual interest? 

--------------------------- 

The Dale Carnegie Courses (Removed) 

Other Books (Removed) 

End

How to Win Friends and Influence People - Mohit K. Arora

Create successful ePaper yourself

Delete template?

Save as template?