CHAPTER 9

Now, the Good

The 1970s were a time that challenged me more than any other period of my life. The personal tragedies I endured over the course of that decade tested my inventive capacity, wits, and confidence. Luckily, I was still young and my ambition remained. Furthermore, my personal experiences kept me intact in the face of defeat. Watching the Second World War unravel behind the convoluted lens of my early youth while living in an evacuation camp had given me the strength to carry on. Even in the uncertain economic climate of the 1970s, I laid the foundations for Takihyo’s future—not only in Japan but also abroad. Some of my initiatives that began in the midst of the political and economic turmoil of the early Nixon era fashioned the beginnings of what would capture my attention for the next two decades.

Another aspect of my life in the 1970s was the new friendships and partnerships I was forging at the time. By about 1963, I had joined a small consortium of like-minded and same-aged Japanese executives. In the United States, a company’s board of directors consists of a selection of executives from various sectors of management in most cases. Every quarter or so, an American board meeting takes place so that the directors can discuss matters needing redirection or further definition. The executive director poses questions and sets the context for the members of the board. Garnering feedback from outside sources, especially those one respects and trusts, can yield amazing results.

Japanese board meetings are very different. The meeting is filled with executives and employees with a predetermined agenda. I frequently felt a sense that the walls were caving in a bit when I attended board meetings as Takihyo’s president; the environment simply did not allow for any kind of spontaneity. Very few people shared fresh opinions, and no one was forced to solve problems on the fly. Everyone comes to these meetings prepared to discuss the matters on the current agenda—and only those matters. This form of problem solving can be stagnant at best, catastrophic at worst, because no one expresses any new ideas. These Japanese meetings are the opposite of American-style board meetings, where the objectivity of roundtable discussions brings fresh concepts from different perspectives. This was how the small group sessions in which I partook during consortium gatherings gave me a sounding board for some of my ideas, as well as a forum to learn from others’ successes and mistakes.

This is not to say that the Japanese system doesn’t have its advantages. Of course, Japanese board members are much more familiar with the company’s problems than an executive who may be from another field or who may have another agenda. Moreover, because there is time before each meeting and the agendas are made known beforehand, Japanese executives can prepare potential solutions to some of the problems they will discuss. However, I yearned for something new at the time. Although I truly respected and trusted Takihyo’s board members, they did not offer me everything that I needed as a young manager in rapidly changing times.

Kiyoshi Ichimura, president of what is now called the Ricoh Company, organized these consortium meetings; seven or eight members would meet in Tokyo once or twice a month to discuss business matters. The groups were small, so we all profited from the attention and feedback we could offer one another. The meetings proved fruitful both to our endeavors and to make room for more profound reflection on the issues at hand. Every couple of weeks, I eagerly took the train into Tokyo to attend another meeting and learn more about other industries and other management approaches. The meetings were a great experience; however, none of us felt as though we were giving ourselves enough exposure.

In the early 1970s, Japan really began to change. It was no longer a nation that lacked the luxuries of modern life. The Ministry of International Trade and Industry (MITI) in Japan began to open the doors to development not only domestically but abroad as well. Japan has always been a geographically small landmass—with an even smaller amount of usable land—in comparison to the United States and Western European countries. In the 1960s, the Japanese government worked very closely with the nation’s banks to regulate any and all currency movement. If exchanges took place, the bank wanted to know exactly how much and for what purpose. However, circumstances couldn’t remain this way if Japan was to experience any significant future growth, and policies changed by the 1970s. Originally, MITI was formed to protect and promote Japanese domestic industry. However, Japan was a nation in need of imports that did not have the resources to self-sustain without significant foreign trade agreements.

Once the Japanese government realized the necessity of outward-looking rather than inward-looking growth, Japanese tourism and business boomed. At this point, our small group of executives decided that we required some external support. We felt that the comments, criticisms, and questions of foreign managers could potentially offer us the perspectives to change business—not only in and for Japan but internationally as well. Because Japan was much smaller at the time, we all began thinking ahead in terms of our desire to expand our companies to service other areas—both domestically and overseas. We wanted every edge we could get; however, we needed contacts and connections in order to do this.

A writer for the weekly Asahi newspaper named Mr. Akai approached Ichimura, the leader of our consortium, and told him of the international group called the Young Presidents’ Organization (YPO) that I mentioned in an earlier chapter. Ichimura then instructed Akai to learn about the organization, to find out who these young leaders were and if the group was on the same track as our small one. Shortly after, YPO sent some of their own delegates to Japan to meet with us. Given my previous exposure to English from working with a basketball coach at Keio and from the work I’d done with Bobbie Brooks, I was thrust into the liaison position. The YPO members were impressed with us and approved the inception of a Japanese chapter right away. The only problem for us was that there weren’t enough members; it really was just a few of us at the time.

Part of the problem in getting professionals to join our group had been the Japanese corporate climate during that period. There just weren’t that many presidents in the young age group. Elderly individuals usually held the top managerial positions that would qualify someone to join YPO. Because the Japanese corporate climate at the time was primarily based on a system of seniority, we initially struggled to find people who fit the bill of young president. Luckily, there was a bit of a generation change that occurred during the 1960s and 1970s. Some of the elderly managers who were retiring encouraged young people to become presidents, and older people were kept on as chairs. Young presidents had therefore become a growing demographic by the mid-1970s.

Our numbers were not as strong as the American chapters, but we did not spare on the quality of our core membership. The executives we had gathered were some of the best and brightest in Japan, and our group’s caliber brought prestige. Managers from around the nation wanted to join, which made the recruitment process a lot easier. This group’s establishment marked my insertion into a network of individuals who changed my life. By the time I moved to the United States in the 1980s, I had not only friends in America, and around the world, but colleagues, business partners, and consultants as well—most of whom I’d met through the YPO conventions, which were called universities.

I became heavily involved with the organization from that point forward. While still fulfilling my duties as president of Takihyo, I’d been elected area vice president for YPO; the position allowed me to continue my work as liaison to the American headquarters. I was then obligated to attend board meetings overseas and at the YPO headquarters at least four times a year. Again, my companies in the United States and my previous exposure to practical conversational English put me in a different position than many other Japanese people. In most cases, the Japanese are proficient in reading and writing English; however, they lack English conversational skills. So in a way, I was willingly forced into my role with YPO.