Would Peary have been denounced if he had had a desk job in the Navy Department in
Washington. No. He wouldn't have been important enough then to have aroused
jealousy.
General Grant had an even worse experience than Admiral Peary. In 1862, General
Grant won the first great decisive victory that the North had enjoyed-a victory that was
achieved in one afternoon, a victory that made Grant a national idol overnight-a victory
that had tremendous repercussions even in far-off Europe-a victory that set church bells
ringing and bonfires blazing from Maine to the banks of the Mississippi. Yet within six
weeks after achieving that great victory, Grant -hero of the North-was arrested and his
army was taken from him. He wept with humiliation and despair.
Why was General U.S. Grant arrested at the flood tide of his victory? Largely because he
had aroused the jealousy and envy of his arrogant superiors.
If we are tempted to be worried about unjust criticism here is Rule 1:
Remember that unjust criticism is often a disguised compliment. Remember that no one
ever kicks a dead dog.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 21 -Do This-and Criticism Can't Hurt You
I once interviewed Major-General Smedley Butler-old "Gimlet-Eye". Old "Hell-Devil"
Butler! Remember him? The most colourful, swashbuckling general who ever
commanded the United States Marines.
He told me that when he was young, he was desperately eager to be popular, wanted to
make a good impression on everyone. In those days the slightest criticism smarted and
stung. But he confessed that thirty years in the Marines had toughened his hide. "I have
been berated and insulted," he said, "and denounced as a yellow dog, a snake, and a
skunk. I have been cursed by the experts. I have been called every possible combination
of unprintable cuss words in the English language. Bother me? Huh! When I hear
someone cussing me now, I never turn my head to see who is talking."
Maybe old "Gimlet-Eye" Butler was too indifferent to criticism; but one thing is sure:
most of us take the little jibes and javelins that are hurled at us far too seriously. I
remember the time, years ago, when a reporter from the New York Sun attended a
demonstration meeting of my adult-education classes and lampooned me and my work.
Was I burned up? I took it as a personal insult. I telephoned Gill Hodges, the Chairman of
the Executive Committee of the Sun, and practically demanded that he print an article
stating the facts-instead of ridicule. I was determined to make the punishment fit the
crime.
I am ashamed now of the way I acted. I realise now that half the people who bought the
paper never saw that article. Half of those who read it regarded it as a source of
innocent merriment. Half of those who gloated over it forgot all about it in a few
weeks.
I realise now that people are not thinking about you and me or caring what is said about
us. They are thinking about themselves-before breakfast, after breakfast, and right on
until ten minutes past midnight. They would be a thousand times more concerned about
a slight headache of their own than they would about the news of your death or mine.
Even if you and I are lied about, ridiculed, double-crossed, knifed in the back, and sold
down the river by one out of every six of our most intimate friends-let's not indulge in
an orgy of self-pity. Instead, let's remind ourselves that that's precisely what happened
to Jesus. One of His twelve most intimate friends turned traitor for a bribe that would
amount, in our modern money, to about nineteen dollars. Another one of His twelve
most intimate friends openly deserted Jesus the moment He got into trouble, and
declared three times that he didn't even know Jesus-and he swore as he said it. One out
of six! That is what happened to Jesus. Why should you and I expect a better score?
I discovered years ago that although I couldn't keep people from criticising me unjustly,
I could do something infinitely more important: I could determine whether I would let
the unjust condemnation disturb me.
Let's be clear about this: I am not advocating ignoring all criticism. Far from it. I am
talking about ignoring only unjust criticism. I once asked Eleanor Roosevelt how she
handled unjust criticism-and Allah knows she's had a lot of it. She probably has more
ardent friends and more violent enemies than any other woman who ever lived in the
White House.
She told me that as a young girl she was almost morbidly shy, afraid of what people
might say. She was so afraid of criticism that one day she asked her aunt, Theodore
Roosevelt's sister for advice. She said: "Auntie Bye, I want to do so-and-so. But I'm afraid
of being criticised."
Teddy Roosevelt's sister looked her in the eye and said: "Never be bothered by what
people say, as long as you know in your heart you are right." Eleanor Roosevelt told me
that that bit of advice proved to be her Rock of Gibraltar years later, when she was in
the White House. She told me that the only way we can avoid all criticism is to be like a
Dresden-china figure and stay on a shelf. "Do what you feel in your heart to be right-for
you'll be criticised, anyway. You'll be damned if you do, and damned if you don't." That
is her advice.
When the late Matthew C. Brush, was president of the American International
Corporation at 40 Wall Street, I asked him if he was ever sensitive to criticism; and he
replied: "Yes, I was very sensitive to it in my early days. I was eager then to have all the
employees in the organisation think I was perfect. If they didn't, it worried me. I would
try to please first one person who had been sounding off against me; but the very thing I
did to patch it up with him would make someone else mad. Then when I tried to fix it
up with this person, I would stir up a couple of other bumble-bees. I finally discovered
that the more I tried to pacify and to smooth over injured feelings in order to escape
personal criticism, the more certain I was to increase my enemies. So finally I said to
myself: 'If you get your head above the crowd, you're going to be criticised. So get used
to the idea.' That helped me tremendously. From that time on I made it a rule to do the
very best I could and then put up my old umbrella and let the rain of criticism drain off
me instead of running down my neck."
Deems Taylor went a bit further: he let the rain of criticism run down his neck and had
a good laugh over it-in public. When he was giving his comments during the intermission
of the Sunday afternoon radio concerts of the New York Philharmonic-Symphony
Orchestra, one woman wrote him a letter calling him "a liar, a traitor, a snake and a
moron".
On the following week's broadcast, Mr. Taylor read this letter over the radio to millions
of listeners. In his book, Of Men & Music, he tells us that a few days later he received
another letter from the same lady, "expressing her unaltered opinion that I was still a
liar, a traitor, a snake and a moron. I have a suspicion," adds Mr. Taylor, "that she didn't
care for that talk." We can't keep from admiring a man who takes criticism like that. We
admire his serenity, his unshaken poise, and his sense of humour.
When Charles Schwab was addressing the student body at Princeton, he confessed that
one of the most important lessons he had ever learned was taught to him by an old
German who worked in Schwab's steel mill. The old German got involved in a hot
wartime argument with the other steelworkers, and they tossed him into the river.
"When he came into my office," Mr. Schwab said, "covered with mud and water, I asked
him what he had said to the men who had thrown him into the river, and he replied: 'I
just laughed.' "
Mr. Schwab declared that he had adopted that old German's words as his motto: "Just
laugh."
That motto is especially good when you are the victim of unjust criticism. You can
answer the man who answers you back, but what can you say to the man who "just
laughs"?
Lincoln might have broken under the strain of the Civil War if he hadn't learned the folly
of trying to answer all his savage critics. He finally said: "If I were to try to read, much
less to answer, all the attacks made on me, this shop might as well be closed for any
other business. I do the very best I know how-the very best I can; and I mean to keep
on doing so until the end. If the end brings me out all right, then what is said against me
won't matter. If the end brings me out wrong, then ten angels swearing I was right
would make no difference."
When you and I are unjustly criticised, let's remember Rule 2:
Do the very best yon can: and then put up your old umbrella and keep the rain of
criticism from running down the back of your neck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 22 - Fool Things I Have Done
I have a folder in my private filing cabinet marked "FTD"-short for "Fool Things I Have
Done". I put in that folder written records of the fools things I have been guilty of. I
sometimes dictate these memos to my secretary, but sometimes they are so personal,
so stupid, that I am ashamed to dictate them, so I write them out in longhand.
I can still recall some of the criticisms of Dale Carnegie that I put in my "FTD" folders
fifteen years ago. If I had been utterly honest with myself, I would now have a filing
cabinet bursting out at the seams with these "FTD" memos. I can truthfully repeat what
King Saul said more than twenty centuries ago: "I have played the fool and have erred
exceedingly."
When I get out my "FTD" folders and re-read the criticisms I have written of myself, they
help me deal with the toughest problem I shall ever face: the management of Dale
Carnegie.
I used to blame my troubles on other people; but as I have grown older-and wiser, I
hope-I have realised that I myself, in the last analysis, am to blame for almost all my
misfortunes. Lots of people have discovered that, as they grow older. "No one but
myself," said Napoleon at St. Helena, "no one but myself can be blamed for my fall. I
have been my own greatest enemy-the cause of my own disastrous fate."
Let me tell you about a man I know who was an artist when it came to self-appraisal and
self-management. His name was H. P. Howell. When the news of his sudden death in the
drugstore of the Hotel Ambassador in New York was flashed across the nation on July 31,
1944, Wall Street was shocked, for he was a leader in American finance-chairman of the
board of the Commercial National Bank and Trust Company, 56 Wall Street, and a
director of several large corporations. He grew up with little formal education, started
out in life clerking in a country store, and later became credit manager for U.S. Steel-
and was on his way to position and power.
"For years I have kept an engagement book showing all the appointments I have during
the day," Mr. Howell told me when I asked him to explain the reasons for his success.
"My family never makes any plans for me on Saturday night, for the family knows that I
devote a part of each Saturday evening to self-examination and a review and appraisal
of my work during the week. After dinner I go off by myself, open my engagement book,
and think over all the interviews, discussions and meetings that have taken place since
Monday morning. I ask myself: 'What mistakes did I make that time?' 'What did I do that
was right-and in what way could I have improved my performance?' 'What lessons can I
learn from that experience?' I sometimes find that this weekly review makes me very
unhappy. Sometimes I am astonished by my own blunders. Of course, as the years have
gone by, these blunders have become less frequent. This system of self-analysis,
continued year after year, has done more for me than any other one thing I have ever
attempted."
Maybe H.P. Howell borrowed his idea from Ben Franklin. Only Franklin didn't wait until
Saturday night. He gave himself a severe going-over every night. He discovered that he
had thirteen serious faults. Here are three of them: wasting time, stewing around over
trifles, arguing and contradicting people. Wise old Ben Franklin realised that, unless he
eliminated these handicaps, he wasn't going to get very far. So he battled with one of
his shortcomings every day for a week, and kept a record of who had won each day's
slugging match. The next day, he would pick out another bad habit, put on the gloves,
and when the bell rang he would come out of his corner fighting. Franklin kept up this
battle with his faults every week for more than two years.
No wonder he became one of the best-loved and most influential men America ever
produced!
Elbert Hubbard said: "Every man is a damn fool for at least five minutes every day.
Wisdom consists in not exceeding that limit."
The small man flies into a rage over the slightest criticism, but the wise man is eager to
learn from those who have censured him and reproved him and "disputed the passage
with him". Walt Whitman put it this way: "Have you learned lessons only of those who
admired you, and were tender with you, and stood aside for you? Have you not learned
great lessons from those who rejected you, and braced themselves against you, or
disputed the passage with you?"
Instead of waiting for our enemies to criticise us or our work, let's beat them to it. Let's
be our own most severe critic. Let's find and remedy all our weaknesses before our
enemies get a chance to say a word. That is what Charles Darwin did. In fact, he spent
fifteen years criticising-well, the story goes like this: When Darwin completed the
manuscript of his immortal book, The Origin of Species, he realised that the publication
of his revolutionary concept of creation would rock the intellectual and religious worlds.
So he became his own critic and spent another fifteen years, checking his data,
challenging his reasoning, criticising his conclusions.
Suppose someone denounced you as "a damn fool"-what would you do? Get angry?
Indignant? Here is what Lincoln did: Edward M. Stanton, Lincoln's Secretary of War, once
called Lincoln "a damn fool". Stanton was indignant because Lincoln had been meddling
in his affairs. In order to please a selfish politician, Lincoln had signed an order
transferring certain regiments. Stanton not only refused to carry out Lincoln's orders but
swore that Lincoln was a damn fool for ever signing such orders. What happened? When
Lincoln was told what Stanton had said, Lincoln calmly replied: "If Stanton said I was a
damned fool, then I must be, for he is nearly always right. I'll just step over and see for
myself."
Lincoln did go to see Stanton. Stanton convinced him that the order was wrong, and
Lincoln withdrew it. Lincoln welcomed criticism when he knew it was sincere, founded
on knowledge, and given in a spirit of helpfulness.
You and I ought to welcome that kind of criticism, too, for we can't even hope to be
right more than three times out of four. At least, that was all Theodore Roosevelt said
he could hope for, when he was in the White House. Einstein, the most profound thinker
now living, confesses that his conclusions are wrong ninety-nine per cent of the time!
"The opinions of our enemies," said La Rochefoucauld, "come nearer to the truth about
us than do our own opinions."
I know that statement may be true many times; yet when anyone starts to criticise me,
if I do not watch myself, I instantly and automatically leap to the defensive-even before
I have the slightest idea what my critic is going to say. I am disgusted with myself every
time I do it. We all tend to resent criticism and lap up praise, regardless of whether
either the criticism or the praise be justified. We are not creatures of logic. We are
creatures of emotions. Our logic is like a canoe tossed about on a deep, dark, stormy
sea of emotion. Most of us have a pretty good opinion of ourselves as we are now. But in
forty years from now, we may look back and laugh at the persons we are today.
William Allen White-"the most celebrated small-town newspaper editor in history"looked
back and described the young man he had been fifty years earlier as "swellheaded
... a fool with a lot of nerve ... a supercilious young Pharisee ... a complacent
reactionary." Twenty years from now maybe you and I may be using similar adjectives to
describe the persons we are today. We may. ... who knows?
In previous chapters, I have talked about what to do when you are unjustly criticised.
But here is another idea: when your anger is rising because you feel you have been
unjustly condemned, why not stop and say: "Just a minute. ... I am far from perfect. If
Einstein admits he is wrong ninety-nine per cent of the time, maybe I am wrong at least
eighty per cent of the time. Maybe I deserve this criticism. If I do, I ought to be thankful
for it, and try to profit by it."
Charles Luckman, president of the Pepsodent Company, spends a millions dollars a year
putting Bob Hope on the air. He doesn't look at the letters praising the programme, but
he insists on seeing the critical letters. He knows he may learn something from them.
The Ford Company is so eager to find out what is wrong with its management and
operations that it recently polled the employees and invited them to criticise the
company.
I know a former soap salesman who used even to ask for criticism. When he first started
out selling soap for Colgate, orders came slowly. He worried about losing his job. Since
he knew there was nothing wrong with the soap or the price, he figured that the trouble
must be himself. When he failed to make a sale, he would often walk around the block
trying to figure out what was wrong. Had he been too vague? Did he lack enthusiasm?
Sometimes he would go back to the merchant and say: "I haven't come back here to try
to sell you any soap. I have come back to get your advice and your criticism. Won't you
please tell me what I did that was wrong when I tried to sell you soap a few minutes
ago? You are far more experienced and successful than I am. Please give me your
criticism. Be frank. Don't pull your punches."
This attitude won him a lot of friends and priceless advice.
What do you suppose happened to him? Today, he is president of the Colgate-Palmolive-
Peet Soap Company-the world's largest makers of soap. His name is E. H. Little. Last
year, only fourteen people in America had a larger income than he had: $240,141.
It takes a big man to do what H. P. Howell, Ben Franklin, and E. H. Little did. And now,
while nobody is looking, why not peep into the mirror and ask yourself whether you
belong in that kind of company 1
To keep from worrying about criticism, here is Rule 3:
Let's keep a record of the fool things we have done and criticise ourselves. Since we
can't hope to be perfect, let's do what E.H. Little did: let's ask for unbiased, helpful,
constructive criticism.
~~~~
Part Six In A Nutshell -How To Keep From Worrying About Criticism
RULE 1: Unjust criticism is often a disguised compliment. It often means that you have
aroused jealousy and envy. Remember that no one ever kicks a dead dog.
RULE 2: Do the very best you can; and then put up your old umbrella and keep the rain
of criticism from running down the back of your neck.
RULE 3: Let's keep a record of the fool things we have done and criticise ourselves.
Since we can't hope to be perfect, let's do what E. H. Little did: let's ask for unbiased,
helpful, constructive criticism.
Part Seven -Six Ways To Prevent Fatigue And Worry And Keep Your Energy And Spirits
High
Chapter 23: How To Add One Hour A Day To Tour Waking Life
Why am I writing a chapter on preventing fatigue in a book on preventing worry? That is
simple: because fatigue often produces worry, or, at least, it makes you susceptible to
worry. Any medical student will tell you that fatigue lowers physical resistance to the
common cold and hundreds of other diseases and any psychiatrist will tell you that
fatigue also lowers your resistance to the emotions of fear and worry. So preventing
fatigue tends to prevent worry.
Did I say "tends to prevent worry"? That is putting it mildly. Dr. Edmund Jacobson goes
much further. Dr. Jacob-son has written two books on relaxation: Progressive Relaxation
and You Must Relax', and as director of the University of Chicago Laboratory for Clinical
Physiology, he has spent years conducting investigations in using relaxation as a method
in medical practice. He declares that any nervous or emotional state "fails to exist in
the presence of complete relaxation". That is another way of saying: You cannot
continue to worry if you relax.
So, to prevent fatigue and worry, the first rule is: Rest often. Rest before you get tired.
Why is that so important? Because fatigue accumulates with astonishing rapidity. The
United States Army has discovered by repeated tests that even young men-men
toughened by years of Army training-can march better, and hold up longer, if they
throw down their packs and rest ten minutes out of every hour. So the Army forces them
to do just that. Your heart is just as smart as the U.S. Army. Your heart pumps enough
blood through your body every day to fill a railway tank car. It exerts enough energy
every twenty-four hours to shovel twenty tons of coal on to a platform three feet high.
It does this incredible amount of work for fifty, seventy, or maybe ninety years. How
can it stand it? Dr. Walter B. Cannon, of the Harvard Medical School, explains it. He
says: "Most people have the idea that the heart is working all the time. As a matter of
fact, there is a definite rest period after each contraction. When beating at a moderate
rate of seventy pulses per minute, the heart is actually working only nine hours out of
the twenty-four. In the aggregate its rest periods total a full fifteen hours per day."
During World War II, Winston Churchill, in his late sixties and early seventies, was able
to work sixteen hours a day, year after year, directing the war efforts of the British
Empire. A phenomenal record. His secret? He worked in bed each morning until eleven
o'clock, reading papers, dictating orders, making telephone calls, and holding important
conferences. After lunch he went to bed once more and slept for an hour. In the
evening he went to bed once more and slept for two hours before having dinner at
eight. He didn't cure fatigue. He didn't have to cure it. He prevented it. Because he
rested frequently, he was able to work on, fresh and fit, until long past midnight.
The original John D. Rockefeller made two extraordinary records. He accumulated the
greatest fortune the world had ever seen up to that time and he also lived to be ninetyeight.
How did he do it? The chief reason, of course, was because he had inherited a
tendency to live long. Another reason was his habit of taking a half-hour nap in his
office every noon. He would lie down on his office couch-and not even the President of
the United States could get John D. on the phone while he was having his snooze!
In his excellent book. Why Be Tired, Daniel W. Josselyn observes: "Rest is not a matter
of doing absolutely nothing. Rest is repair." There is so much repair power in a short
period of rest that even a five-minute nap will help to forestall fatigue! Connie Mack,
the grand old man of baseball, told me that if he doesn't take an afternoon nap before a
game, he is all tuckered out at around the fifth inning. But if he does go to sleep, if for
only five minutes, he can last throughout an entire double-header without feeling tired.
When I asked Eleanor Roosevelt how she was able to carry such an exhausting schedule
during the twelve years she was in the White House, she said that before meeting a
crowd or making a speech, she would often sit in a chair or davenport, close her eyes,
and relax for twenty minutes.
I recently interviewed Gene Autry in his dressing-room at Madison Square Garden, where
he was the star attraction at the world's championship rodeo. I noticed an army cot in
his dressing-room. "I lie down there every afternoon," Gene Autry said, "and get an
hour's nap between performances. When I am making pictures in Hollywood," he
continued, "I often relax in a big easy chair and get two or three ten-minute naps a day.
They buck me up tremendously."
