representing the university, agreed to loan me a hundred dollars. Professor Whetzel made up the difference by lending me fifty dollars, which gave me the needed tuition and the start I needed.
On Saturdays and Sundays, I worked ten to twelve hours a day around the house and in the garden. Turning and screening the compost pile, digging compost into the garden plots, weeding the garden, and mowing the lawn. The Prof loved his garden and he often worked right along with me. His infectious enthusiasm impressed me, and I gradually developed a keen interest in learning how to grow and care for the various plants, vegetables, and fruits which were his pride and joy.
The months I spent in his garden stimulated my interest in horticulture. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, gardening would become an all-consuming hobby for the rest of my life.
I had no way of knowing in 1943 how big the hospitality industry would become. I was standing right in the path of progress at the time. In 1943, the year I arrived at Cornell, the total dollar volume of Eating Place Sales according to the US Department of Commerce was a mere $7.2 billion. By 1995, this would exceed $225 billion, and I couldn’t possibly have imagined that a company I would later cofound would proudly report having over eight thousand restaurants operating in fifty-nine countries around the world and have system-wide sales in excess of $8 billion. By 2018, this would grow to over sixteen thousand restaurants in one hundred countries. I was very fortunate in that I was receiving an excellent education and formal training in an industry that would soon enjoy explosive growth. With World War II in progress during the early 1940s, facilities expansion and new growth remained out of the question until the postwar era began.
By June of 1944 I had finished three academic terms, which meant that I was midway through my sophomore year. Having turned eighteen in May, and knowing that I would be called into service before long, I began to think of enlisting in the United States Navy. From the time of my arrival at Cornell in June 1943 to June 1944 I worked hard and had a strenuous year as a student. I not only worked hard at the Whetzel home, but I had taken on additional jobs in order to earn extra money to pay off my obligations and have some left over to pay for incidental expenses. Money was always a problem at that time.
By June of 1944 I was tired. I had attended classes for the last twelve straight months without a break. My extra jobs were depriving me of sleep, and the weekends working in the garden and around the house added to the pressure. On top of it all was the uncertainty about being called into the service. I had no idea when that would be, but I knew it was coming.
By this time the pace of the war had grown hot and heavy, but it was definitely going in our favor. Tens of thousands of eighteen-year-olds such as myself were either being drafted into the service or voluntarily enlisting in the service of their choice.
I joined the Phi Delta Theta fraternity, much to the disappointment of Professor Whetzel, who didn’t think I could afford to do it. He was probably right on that count, but the fraternity experience did contribute to my college life, and I enjoyed the friends and fellowship that came with it.
Professor Whetzel insisted that I keep a detailed and accurate accounting of the hours worked, the income I earned, and the expenditures I made. He insisted that I reconcile the amount of cash in my pocket against the income I earned, less my out of pocket expenses. This was a regular part of our monthly meeting where we settled on the income I earned less the deductions for the cost of room and board. It was a rather thorough accounting procedure. The Prof gave me a ledger when I first moved into his home and insisted I record all of this information in it.
With mixed emotions, I decided to leave Cornell in June of 1944. I planned to enlist in the Navy and told the Whetzel family of my plans. They seemed to understand. When the final day came, I said a last goodbye, and with a packed suitcase I walked out the door. I then enlisted in the US Navy Air Corps. This branch of the service was glamorized in the propaganda movies, and for a teenager like me it had a lot of romantic appeal! I had to wait for several months until I was called.
During the interim period of late summer and early fall of 1944, I decided to get some practical experience in the hotel field. I needed to do this before I could graduate from Cornell. I took a job at the Hotel Astor in New York City. The famous Astor Bar was a favorite meeting place for members of the armed services on leave in New York City. This spot fronted on Times Square, and it was my job to sit behind the bartenders and ring up bar tabs as they served drinks. The manager of the Astor Hotel was a friend of Professor Meek’s and a big supporter of the Cornell Hotel School. The hotel featured the famous Astor roof garden where some of the big bands played during the war years. In the evening it was usually filled with soldiers, sailors, and marines on leave in the big city. Many of the well-known ballrooms in the major hotels in New York brought in the big bands as drawing cards. Glenn Miller’s orchestra played often at the Cafe Rouge in the Hotel Pennsylvania. Tommy Dorsey introduced a young singer named Frank Sinatra in 1940.
I recall those wonderful hours late at night lying in bed listening to the terrific jazz music that spilled out into the streets and alleys. The period of time between my days at Cornell and entry into the United States Navy was short but productive. With time available, the Hotel Astor training proved to be very educational and the excitement of living in New York City gave me a feeling for the world of business.
Even though I enjoyed and benefited from the experience, I was ready to get into uniform and do my part in the war effort. But even in my impatience, I never lost sight of my ultimate goal of a successful career in business and seized the opportunity to gain experience and start to build another layer of its foundation.
The Navy—like life—constantly tested how much physical and mental stress we could take and how we would respond to discipline and the taking of orders.
Our company was made up of two platoons and I was made one of the platoon leaders. As platoon leader, I had to see that orders, rules, and procedures were carried out. There were three tough kids from Brooklyn in the platoon who decided to test me. Coming from similar backgrounds and neighborhoods back home, they had become friends. All three of them were a year or two older than I was, and as the days went by they became more disruptive in challenging my authority. A confrontation was inevitable, and when it came I had to act or risk losing control.
The Navy’s procedure for resolving disputes was to meet in the drill hall and settle the matter in any way we saw fit. The common presumption was that if it got down to that it would involve a good fistfight. I told the trio’s leader to meet me after “mess” and bring his two buddies along. I’d bring Callahan, the big Irishman who was the other platoon leader, but I’d settle the matter myself. The three boys from Brooklyn never showed, and they never gave me any problems after that. In fact, they became very cordial and pleasant from that point forward. The experience reinforced my opinion of the value of standing up for principle. I had to let people know that, as a leader, I was prepared to enforce discipline. I was never challenged after that incident.
Within a few months, I received orders to report to the Naval Reserve Officers Training Corps (NROTC) at Cornell University in June of 1945. This was a wonderful bit of luck. The training at the university required me to take a number of courses in Naval tactics, Naval science, and navigation, but I was permitted to take additional courses of my choosing, so I elected to take most of them in the School of Hotel Administration. This was a real break for me because the Navy was paying for part of my continuing education.
When I arrived back at Cornell, I was assigned to a six-man dormitory room in a fraternity house, which the Navy had taken over after the war began. A Navy veteran named Francis Xavier Fleming had already staked out the lower bunk from Pittsburgh. F.X. played football for Cornell during the previous fall months and was one of the better players on the team. I decided to try out for the team with my new friend and see if I could make the squad myself.
I tried out for the quarterback position and didn’t do particularly well, mostly because the first-string quarterback was an all-American candidate named Al Dekdebrun. I made the team, and played in a few games, but never amounted to much. It was fun and worth a try, but I began to learn that just having a natural athletic ability isn’t all that it takes to become a standout performer. It takes passion and intensity to be the best you can be. I didn’t have that