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.
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
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
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, Influencing Human 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, and 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,”
Most 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
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, and 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
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.
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
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 motive 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
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, and 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 dramatization. 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
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,