gods were making the world, they said: ‘Where can we hide the most valuable of treasures so that they will not be lost? How can we hide them so that the lust and greed of men will not steal or destroy them? What can we do to be assured that these riches will be carried on from generation to generation for the benefit of all mankind?” So in their wisdom they selected a hiding place that was so obvious it wouldn’t be seen. And there they placed the true riches of life, endowed with the magic power of perpetual self-replenishment. In this hiding place these treasures can be found by every living person in every land who follows the success system that never fails.
And as you read this book, read it as if I were your personal friend writing to you, and you alone. For this book is dedicated to you, and all who seek the true riches of life.
WILLIAM CLEMENT STONE
The Search Begins
Decisions without actions are worthless
Failure can be good for you
Don’t let mental walls block you in
Direct your thoughts, control your emotions, ordain your destiny
A Young Boy Begins the Search
I was six years old and scared. Selling newspapers on Chicago’s tough South Side wasn’t easy, especially with the older kids taking over the busy corners, yelling louder, and threatening me with clenched fists. The memory of those dim days is still with me, for it’s the first time I can recall turning a disadvantage into an advantage. It’s a simple story, unimportant now...and yet it was a beginning.
Hoelle’s Restaurant was near the corner where I tried to work, and it gave me an idea. It was a busy and prosperous place that presented a frightening aspect to a child of six. I was nervous, but I walked in hurriedly and made a lucky sale at the first table. Then diners at the second and third tables bought papers. When I started for the fourth, however, Mr. Hoelle pushed me out the front door. But I had sold three papers. So when Mr. Hoelle wasn’t looking, I walked back in and called at the fourth table. Apparently,
the jovial customer liked my gumption; he paid for the paper and gave me an extra dime before Mr. Hoelle pushed me out once again. But I had already sold four papers and got a “bonus” dime besides. I walked into the restaurant and started selling again. There was a lot of laughter. The customers were enjoying the show. One whispered loudly, “Let him be,” as Mr. Hoelle came toward me. About five minutes later, I had sold all my papers.
The next evening I went back. Mr. Hoelle again ushered me out the front door. But when I walked right back in, he threw his hands in the air and exclaimed, “What’s the use!” Later, we became great friends, and I never had trouble selling papers there again.
Years later, I used to think of that little boy, almost as if he were not me but some strange friend from long ago. Once, after I had made my fortune and was head of a large insurance empire, I analyzed that boy’s actions in the light of what I had learned. This is what I concluded:
1. He needed the money. The newspapers would be worthless to him if they weren’t sold; he couldn’t even read them. The few pennies he had borrowed to buy them would also be lost. To a six year-old, this catastrophe was enough to motivate him–to make him keep trying. Thus, he had the necessary inspiration to action.
2. After his first success in selling three papers in the restaurant, he went back in, even though he knew he might be embarrassed and thrown out again. After three trips in and out, he had the necessary technique for selling papers in restaurants. Thus, he gained the know-how.
3. He knew what to say, because he had heard the older kids yelling out the headlines. All he had to do, when he approached a prospective customer, was to repeat in a softer voice what he had heard. Thus, he possessed the requisite activity knowledge.
I smiled as I realized that my “little friend” had become successful as a newsboy by using the same techniques that later flowered into a system for success that enabled him, and others, to amass fortunes. But I’m getting ahead of myself. For now, just remember those three phrases: inspiration to action, know-how, and activity knowledge. They are the keys to the system.
The Boy’s Search Goes On
Even though I was raised in a poor, run-down neighborhood, I was happy. Aren’t all children happy, regardless of poverty, if they have a place to sleep, something to eat, and room to play?
I lived with my mother in the home of relatives. As I grew older, the grandfather of a girl who lived on the top floor of our apartment building sparked my imagination with stories
of cowboys and Indians while we ate puffed rice and milk. And each day, when he tired of his story-telling, I would go downstairs in the backyard and live the part of Buffalo Bill or a great Indian warrior chief. My pony, made out of a stick or old broom, was the fastest in the West.
Picture a working mother seeing her young son in bed at night and asking him to tell about his day’s experiences–those that were good and those that were bad. Picture him, after they had talked for a while, getting out of bed and kneeling beside his mother while she prayed for guidance. Then you have the feeling of the beginning of my search for the true riches of life. Mother had a lot to pray for. Like all good mothers, she felt that her son was a good boy, but she was concerned because he was keeping “bad company.” And she was particularly disturbed that he had developed the habit of smoking cigarettes.
Tobacco was costly, so I used to roll coffee grounds in cigarette paper when tobacco was not available. Perhaps it made me feel important, for another boy and I smoked only when other boys and girls were around, taking particular pleasure if they seemed shocked. When we had company at home, I would demonstrate how grown up I was by smoking a homemade cigarette. A pattern was being established. But it wasn’t good.
Like other kids who get started in the wrong direction, I played hookey. I didn’t have any fun doing it; I felt guilty. Perhaps that was the way I tried to show that I was different from the others in my group. But there was one good thing I did do: At night, when my mother and I would talk. I would tell her the truth–and I would tell her everything.
My mother’s prayers for guidance were answered. She enrolled me in Spaulding Institute, a parochial boarding school at Nauvoo, Illinois. There, through exposure to a wholesome environment in which the three ingredients of the success system that never fails were employed, something happened–something good.
Where can one develop inspiration to action to search for self-improvement better than in a religions school? And who has greater know-how and necessary knowledge to teach character than those who are devoting their entire lives to the church, striving to purify their own souls while trying to save the souls of others’? As the weeks passed into months and months into years, I developed a secret ambition to be like my religious father –the pastor whom I admired and loved.
But I also loved my mother, and I missed her very much. Like so many boys living away from home at private schools, I was homesick, and like them, every time I saw my mother or wrote to her, I would beg her to bring me home permanently.
After two years at Nauvoo, she felt I was ready. Equally important, she was ready. Or perhaps it was motherly love, for she too, longed to have me with her. Although there was some question of my ability to adjust to a new environment, she knew that she could always send me back to Nauvoo if it became desirable. I was ready, and she was too.
The Upward Climb
Early in life, Mother had learned to sew, and because she had initiative, talent and sensitivity, she became proficient at it. Shortly after I left for Nauvoo, she realized that a change of home and business environment was desirable for her, too. She was now in a position to do something about it, for she didn’t have to be concerned with arranging for someone to care for me while she was at work.
She obtained a position in a very exclusive ladies’ import establishment known as Dillon’s. Within two years, she was in complete charge of all designing, fitting, and sewing, and she had developed a reputation among the exclusive clientele of being an outstanding designer and dressmaker. Her earnings were