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Ass Power is the ability to sit your butt down in the chair and get to work, and the willpower and commitment to keep your butt in the chair to get things done.
The Practice of Practice
Jonathan Harnum
In the taxi, on the way to the bank, I had jotted a few figures down on the back of an envelope to show how much more business I was going to do with my aggressive and imaginative promoting. Since the Indians had almost broken even the previous year with an attendance of less than 400,000, I had projected the profits from this marvelous attendance to show how quickly I would be able to repay the loan. It was all pretty general and pretty vague. In addition to the figures on my envelope, plus my non-negotiable hopes and dreams, I had only my experience as a successful minor-league operator and the solid financial backgrounds of my backers to recommend me. I was also able to pass on the information, for what it was worth, that there was a good chance Chick Fisher up in Detroit would be willing to take half the loan. My backers proved to be a mixed blessing. Congden wanted to know if I could give him, as a reference, the name of any banker I had ever actually done business with, preferably one who wasn’t going to be a partner. There was only Mr. Weinhold up in Milwaukee. Congden asked me if I wanted to step out of the room while he talked to him. “Look,” I said, “there’s no reason for me to leave. I know what you’re going to ask him. Mr. Weinhold is a nice, honorable man; he’ll tell you the truth as he sees it. If he doesn’t give me a good count, I’ll get up and leave quietly.” Congden got him on the phone, and all at once I’m wondering what Weinhold did think of me and my Milwaukee operation. Most especially, I am wondering whether he knew anything at all about my broken-field running among the Chicago loan companies. When Congden hung up he looked a little bewildered. What Mr. Weinhold had told him, as passed on to me, was roughly this: “Five years ago, this fellow came to me with a harebrained scheme. If he’s in there with another of his harebrained schemes, I’d like to get in on it again. We’re just a little bank up here but I’ll go as far as the bank can go with him and if there’s anything left over I’d like to take a piece of his play myself.” Speaking for himself, Congden went on, “I suppose I should have told you that I know Weinhold. Weinhold is a very conservative banker. Even for Milwaukee he’s a conservative banker. I can’t imagine Weinhold lending any money on a thing like this, let alone taking . . . ‘a piece of your play.’” Checking with Chick Fisher, he became slightly more bewildered. Chick had asked him to pass the word to me that his loan committee had approved the full million. He had then told Congden that he knew I wanted to borrow the money in Cleveland but that if Congden didn’t want it all he’d like to have half of it up in Detroit. Congden studied the figures on the back of my envelope for awhile, drumming his fingers on the desk. “Mr. Veeck,” he said, finally. “If these figures are right, we’ll go along with you. I think we can manage the whole loan ourselves.” And then, bubbling over, he chuckled, “You know, I think it…
Veeck--as in Wreck
Bill Veeck, Ed Linn
Men’s relationships seemed to be less deeply affected by whether or not there were opportunities to interact amicably – not surprisingly, perhaps, given our evidence that conversation has almost no impact at all on the persistence of males’ relationships.
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