was a simple lesson to be learned, and I took it into the world of business a few years later: Don’t take on an assignment where success is the major objective unless you are passionate about succeeding. Passion is a key ingredient in building a successful pattern in life. It is the source of inspiration and creativity. It builds a person’s inner determination, hopes, and aspirations. Without passion it is difficult to establish realistic goals and develop plans to achieve them. I got the first inkling of that on the gridiron at Cornell.
I view myself as a passionate, even intense, individual, simply because I know that is part of what it takes, not only to be a leader, but also to succeed. I’ve known a lot of people who lacked this kind of focus. Most of them never achieved the level of success which could have come their way. I didn’t have the passion to elevate myself above that in athletics, but I vowed right there that I wouldn’t let that happen again.
The fall-winter trimester started in November, and this brought back many returning civilians and a number of recently discharged servicemen and women. After arriving at the Cornell campus during the early part of the summer, I joined a student government organization known as the Spirit and Traditions Committee. A number of committee members returned that fall, including a very attractive girl from Miami named Nancy Nichol.
I didn’t know then, but this unusually upbeat and friendly, very blond and pretty woman would one day become my wife. She was easy to be with and talk to. In the weeks that followed, we went out on a number of dates and had wonderful times together. Both of us were nineteen years old at the time, but I was already developing some serious thoughts about the future.
As the Christmas season approached, Nancy asked what I planned to do during the holidays. I told her that I really didn’t know. Nancy suggested that I spend the holidays with her and her family in Miami. The invitation took me by surprise, and I recall asking her what her mother would think about having a complete stranger coming to her home for the holidays. Her response was, “I don’t know, but let’s call her,” and with that she went to a telephone and called her home. Nancy’s mother, Mrs. Nichol, said that the family would be delighted to have me come and spend a few days with them.
The problem was how to get to Miami. Transportation was still difficult and hard to obtain even though the war was over. It was almost impossible to get a train ticket, but that didn’t really concern me because I couldn’t afford one in the first place. My only option was to hitchhike.
On the way south during a cold and snowy day in December, I was dropped off late one night in Petersburg, Virginia. It was snowing hard, so I decided to stand under a streetlight where I could be seen. There were only a few cars on the road at that time of night, and the snow was building up on the road and covering a few tire tracks when a car marked “taxi” came up and a cheerful voice inside said, “Hop in, sailor.” I said, “Sir, I think I am going a lot farther than you might be in your taxi, and I think I had best stay under this streetlight so I can be seen.” He replied, “Well, son, if Charleston, South Carolina, would help, that’s my next stop and I’d be pleased to take you there.” I hopped right in.
Another ride dropped me off in St. Augustine, where the weather was sunny, warm, and beautiful. The driver was hauling a boat, and at one point in our conversation I asked the driver if I could hop up in the boat and take a sunbath on the way south. He was happy to do that and pulled his rig over to the side of the road so that I could climb up into the boat. I lay back in the open cockpit imagining that I was a man of considerable leisure enjoying the warm Florida weather, the blue water, and the marvelous Florida scenery. I felt like a king. This was a slice of life I wanted to have more of, and I determined right there to get it.
I was thrilled to see Nancy again, and her mother and father welcomed me warmly into their home. Nancy took charge and got both of us involved with a whirlwind of activity. We attended parties, went to dances, went sailing, met Nancy’s friends, and drove all over the city. It didn’t take me long to convince myself that Miami was the place I wanted to live after finishing my education. My immediate impression was that South Florida was an absolute dream world. I thought about it in terms of warm days, balmy breezes, clean white buildings, palm trees, glistening water, and opportunity. No place in the world could compare to my newly discovered tropical paradise.
I had reached another important conclusion, which was simply that Nancy was the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I finished the semester at Cornell in May of 1946, when I received orders to report to the US Navy Separation Center at Lido Beach, Long Island. I couldn’t return to Cornell right away. Before doing that, I needed to get a job that would satisfy the Hotel School’s requirements for earning more “practice credits,” which was just another name for practical working experiences.
I took a job as an all-around handyman/desk clerk at a small country inn in Connecticut called Boxwood Manor. I had high hopes that Nancy would be able to visit with me for a few wonderful days together, but it made me realize how difficult it was to be apart. We discussed the possibility of getting married many times, but being so young and having no money or a permanent job prospect in sight put the idea pretty out of the picture, at least for the time being.
When I returned to Miami in the fall of 1946 to take a job at the Hollywood Beach Hotel, I called Nancy’s dad, Dr. Nichol, at the family home a few blocks from downtown Miami. When I arrived, Dr. Nichol was having lunch while reading and sunbathing in his backyard.
I told Nick that I was in love with Nancy and intended to marry her. I said that I hoped he would give his approval and consent. He was probably expecting as much, and with a twinkle in his eye, asked me how I intended to support her “in the manner to which she had become accustomed.” I gave a not too reassuring answer and that was about all there was to our conversation.
Our actual engagement came several months later. My sister Claire, sensing that Nancy and I were serious about getting married, presented me with the engagement ring which Dad had given to our mother. It was a one-carat canary diamond in a channel setting in green gold. Grandmother put the ring in a sealed envelope on which she wrote, “For Jimmy’s Bride.” Claire, knowing how broke I was and recognizing my desperate need for an engagement ring, gave it to me so that I could present it to Nancy in December of 1946. Of course, Nancy was thrilled, and the ring became her proudest possession.
She later gave that ring to our own son, Whit, to present it to his own bride-to-be, Lauren Bryant, who gave it to their son James, who gave it to his bride Corina Clavo. And so the tradition continues.
Dad died shortly after I returned to Cornell in February of 1947, and I put Edgehill up for sale. The property would net only a very small amount of money, which meant that there would be very little left to divide between Claire, David, and myself.
I was alone except for Nancy. Nobody could have filled my life with more optimism, happiness, and confidence than she was able to do. Nancy came to me as a powerful and refreshing breath of spring at precisely the time I needed someone close to remind me that life could be wonderful, worthwhile, and promising. Nancy is the kind of person who looks at life in a positive and upbeat fashion. I have never known her to be “down” or depressed, and I have never seen her dwell on negative thoughts. Her mission in life always seems to be one of spreading joy and happiness wherever she can. She does this with extraordinary consistency.
Even though I had yet to earn my degree, I was sure that I wanted to get married. In spite of being in a difficult situation, Nancy and I decided to tough it out together. We were married on April 27, 1947, in the old Trinity Church in New York City. It was a small family wedding with Nancy’s family, my own, and a few close friends in attendance.
Sometimes there is never a “right” time to take on a new role, responsibility, or change in life. The key is to embrace your passions. Marrying Nancy, even with an uncertain future, was the best thing that ever happened to me.