A Job Made for Me

When the summer vacation of 1959 arrived, my sponsor, Mr. Graham, offered me a summer job. It was to promote his business, Private Enterprise, Inc., to the Wichita community. In this venture, he was offering to invest half the capital required for entrepreneurs in foreign countries to start a business. They would be able to buy him out after they had doubled Graham’s portion of the investment. Graham was seeking investors in his business, and I was an ideal “show-and-tell” person.

I was provided with a list of “who’s who in Wichita.” My salary for the summer was to be $300, which disappointed me because other friends were going to make that much per month. I reminded myself that my first task was to learn, and here was the opportunity. I bought a light summer suit and a necktie.

As it turned out, this job was made for me. Somehow, most of the people on the list agreed to see me. They knew Bill Graham but were interested to know about me. And I was interested in asking them about the secret of their success.

Most of them became my friends, and some became my mentors. Several invited me to lunches to meet their friends and associates. Some invited me to their homes to meet their families. Others invited me to their churches to talk to their Sunday schools or to give talks at their social clubs. One person took it upon himself to organize a speaking tour of social clubs and churches in Wichita. Since I did not have a car, he personally drove me to most of the speaking engagements, even to some towns outside of Wichita.

One weekend, I was hosted by a family who lived on a ranch in Ashland, Kansas. On Sunday, they invited me to join them at their Methodist church, where the minister heard me participating in the Sunday school class. “Would you like to give the sermon today?” he asked.

Nonchalantly, I raised my shoulders to indicate, “Why not?”

In between the class and the church service, my hostess came up to me. “We will be sitting in the front row,” she said. “You can sit with us.”

“The minister has asked me to sit with him,” I said. “He’s asked me to give the sermon.”

“No! No!” she said, horrified. “You don’t even know what a sermon is.” She turned around and went over to the minister. I saw her jaw drop as the minister confirmed the news.

In my sermon, I told the congregation that the world had shrunk. “Christ told us to love our neighbors. In this shrinking world, our neighbors are no longer just people living in our communities. Our neighbors are also people in India and China,” I said. “This is what Christ is calling us to do now.”

My hostess was still looking at me with shock on her face. She was nervous like a mother, afraid of her son making a fool of himself. I could not help but smile.

Afterward, the minister asked me to greet people at the door and shake hands. My hostess came out, bubbly, chirping like a bird. She was so relieved. Her rancher husband tipped his hat to me. “You have done it, boy,” he said.

Later, on the drive home in their car, the husband said, “Son, if you ever need any help, don’t hesitate to call me.”

The wife expanded on her husband’s statement. “We went to college during the Depression,” she said. “It was hard. We do not wish our children to suffer through anything like that, and the same goes for you.”

“Thank you,” I said, hoping that day would never come.

A week later, I had to ask him for help.