That's right interesting. I did have, kind of, personally, a
question. My second year up at the Business School was right when the
Crash had come. The Crash came in the fall of 1929, and
Page 9 I graduated up there in June of '30. The Business
School was about the first graduate school of business in the country,
you know, and most of the rest of them came along after that. You put in
for appointments to meet with recruiters who were coming up there. I
wrote down here, and my brothers said, "No, you
don't want any appointments. We're expecting you
to go to work in the company." And I wrote back and said I
would much rather kind of go it on my own. Most of the recruiters up
there were coming from commercial banks or investment banks, mostly
banking. Very few manufacturers were recruiting. Some of the retail
chains were beginning to, Sears, Roebuck, Montgomery Ward. But I figured
I'd go to work and have a few appointments and take a job.
Oh, they were insistent that I not do that, that I go to work for the
company, so I didn't have any interviews. And the company
said to me they wanted me to go to New York, which was the main
merchandising office, which I did, not too happy living in a big city
after having been able to play golf after work and that kind of stuff. I
moved into New York with a couple of boys from the South that were
bachelors, as was I. People didn't get married then until you
got a job that you knew you could support a wife. Today they get married
even before they get out of high school, almost. The first job was to be
a credit runner in the credit department, which meant going to the
various banks and factoring companies to check up on customers for the
credit files. After several months there, they gave me some training in
the various fabrics. I had worked in the mills, incidentally, in my
summer vacation between college terms, so I knew a little bit
about—not the details of textile school stuff—but
weaving and spinning, ectcetera.
Page 10 I was a cub
salesman there in the New York market for about a year, calling on
people that we didn't do business with, trying to bring in
new customers. Well, with a New York sales force of about ten people,
why, it was pretty tough for me to find new customers that had credit
unknown. But anyway, I was finally given the New
York State and Pennsylvania territory. I made my headquarters in the New
York office but travelled New York State and Pennsylvania. I
didn't have any customers in the City, of course, or in
Philadelphia—we had an office—but out to
Pittsburgh and up to Buffalo, etcetera. I was there until 1933, at which
time our salesman that travelled Ohio, Indiana, and Michigan left us and
went with another company. I was single and easily mobile, so, with one
pitch around my territory with a new cub salesman, I went out to
Chicago. I made my headquarters in the Chicago office. We had four men
there: one for the city of Chicago; one travelled south through Illinois
and Iowa; one travelled north, Wisconsin and Minneapolis; and the other
one was my territory, Indiana, Ohio, and Michigan, kind of east of
Chicago. I was there until the man who did the city-of-Chicago job had a
liquor problem, and he got fired. They asked me to take over Chicago,
which meant Sears, Roebuck, which was a big account by that time, and
several big garment manufacturers were headquartered in Chicago. A
pretty good market. I was in Chicago, looking after that market, until I
got sick. In 1936 I got tuberculosis. That was before they had
streptomycin and these drugs, and they put you flat on your back and
hoped you could resist it. Maybe you could, and maybe you
couldn't. Well, I fought that thing in Chicago there in the
hospital from the middle of '36 until
Page 11
about the end of '36. I went out to Arizona for a year and
finally got back on my feet and came back to Greensboro then and decided
the hell with it, I wasn't going to travel anymore. That was
a little bit too rough. I might get another breakdown. I had had pretty
much training up there at the Business School on finances, and we
didn't have anybody that was too hep on that, so they made a
job for me—I say "made"—here in
Greensboro. I moved back with my mother and later got married to a
Greensboro girl in late '38. In the meantime, I guess
you'd say that I kind of was Daddy Rabbit on putting all
these different companies together, consolidating these various
individual corporations and the selling corporation with the
manufacturing company. That was in '45. I was in Washington
during the War with the Quartermaster General, but after the War we got
this consolidation together. In 1951 we sold 400,000 shares of our
stock, not the company, but individuals. My two brothers and I each sold
100,000, and the Moses Cone Hospital sold 100,000. Moses Cone Hospital
owned about a third of the company at that time, because my
father's oldest brother, Moses, and my father started this
thing. Moses had no children, and he died without a will in 1908. So
under the laws of intestacy, his wife inherited half of his personal
property, which was stocks in these various mill companies. So she set
up this hospital, retaining her interest in her husband's
estate for life; then would be the hospital. She didn't die
until 1947, so the hospital didn't have any funds to build
and to get in business. But the hospital owned about a third of the
company, and when she died it sold some of its stock to provide some
money to build the first plant. That was the necessary stock that the
stock exchange required to have in
Page 12 the hands of
the so-called "public" so it would be a tradeable
item. As long as it was held by just a few people, it
wouldn't qualify. So with those 400,000 shares of stock in
the hands of the so-called "public," we acquired about
two or three thousand stockholders in connection with that distribution,
that sale. We already had some 2,000 stockholders, so it gave us about
4,000 stockholders with some 400,000 or 500,000 shares in the hands of
the so-called "public." That was in 1951.