Ask any young person if he plans to succeed in life, and he will say "yes". However, only five out of a hundred will be self supporting at retirement age. The rest will be dependent on family or social security. Living in a land of opportunity, they will somehow fail to comprehend the elements that will guide them to success.

Most of these will begin their career with great expectations, but as marriage and children come along, they will settle down to "job security". The more ambitious will spend a lifetime searching for an elusive formula that will guarantee success. They will attend motivational seminars, read success books, and attend courses designed to enhance their memory and personality. They will learn that a positive attitude, enthusiasm, imagination, and goals play an important part in life's game.

But is there a success factor? A formula so perfect that it can not fail? Yes, there is such a key. A secret? Not really. It has remained a secret only because we have failed to grasp that which should have been apparent.

This is the story of one man who grasped the secret.......

THE 
SUCCESS FACTOR

It was in a small community park that I first saw him -- a tall man in a disheveled pin stripe suit, with salt and pepper hair, an unshaved face and angry eyes. I was sitting on a bench across the walkway from the creek that winded through the park. It was about eleven-thirty. The sun was shining. A slight breeze ruffled the leaves. Not far away, two lovers were spreading a picnic under an ancient oak. On the bench to my right, two squirrels ran playfully back and forth across the top board. To the left, some kids were kicking a blue-green plastic ball, the type you get in a supermarket.

I first heard his cane tapping the concrete walkway as he came toward me. He weaved slightly and used the cane to support his steps. As he neared the squirrels, his cane swept out across the top of the bench. The creatures scrambled for safety as the man chuckled softly. One of the children darted in front of the man, chasing the ball. I heard him curse the child as he walked on.

I made my way out of the park to Ruby's Cafe, near the entrance. He was sitting two tables down from me. I had already been served before the waitress even approached him for his order.

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It seemed difficult to imagine this man as a baby sleeping in the arms of his mother or as a boy playing catch in the yard with his dad. Neither could I perceive of him as a first grader, anxious to please his teacher. I could not help but wonder what had gone wrong. Had his home provided the garden for sprouting and growing an angry old man? Had his parents never complimented him or encouraged him? Had his business or marriage failed? I never had the courage to ask. He would probably have only cursed me.

As the leaves fell, I realized I never saw him anymore. I wondered if he had passed out in some squalid apartment house, never to revive again.

The following April, on one of those days when it is impossible to sit still in an office, I left early for lunch. Ambling through the park, I stood for a moment by the brook, watching the ducks swim by. I turned to observe someone strolling toward me. The man was walking erect. I could hardly believe it. It was the same man I had observed staggering through the park the previous summer. There was no cane. He was dressed handsomely and groomed neatly. He was smiling.

As the gentleman approached a gathering of pigeons, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a sack, and spread a handful of seeds in a clear spot on the ground. As he passed me, he threw a friendly wave. On beyond me a blond-headed little boy was crying and looking in the grass.

"What's the trouble, son?" the man asked.

"I lost my quarter," the boy sobbed.

The man pointed in my direction. "Have you looked there behind you?" While the boy turned, the man took a coin from his pocket and tossed it in the grass.

"There it is." He pointed again.

The lad picked up the coin. "Thank you, Sir," the boy smiled. The man continued on his way, and the boy skipped down the sidewalk, still smiling.

I was awed. The man was a new creature. I walked behind him through the park and into Ruby's Cafe.

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Bill received far better service than anyone else in the restaurant. Every waitress in the cafe made some attempt to please him. One would refill his water glass, another the coffee cup. To each he would make some remark about their hairdo or dress or smile.

Actually, I did not enjoy my meal that day, not that there was anything wrong with the food or the service; I was just absorbed in the mystery. Even though others asked for his autograph, I did not want to interrupt his meeting, but I was determined to make an appointment to talk with him. I was compelled to find out who Bill was and, more importantly, how his life had been transformed.

Ruby walked to his table and spoke to him. "Bill, your limousine is waiting." He stood and apologized to his guests. They all stood and walked with him to the register. The crowd frustrated my attempts to get near him. Finally, we were out on the street, and I pushed my way to his side.

Cautiously, I reached out to touch his arm. He turned and gave me a warm handshake. With transparent blue eyes, he looked directly at me and asked what he could do for me. I introduced myself and told him that, although I didn't even know him, I needed to talk with him. He told me that his name was William Henry Sebastian, and that he would be happy to talk to me, but he had to catch a plane for Europe. At this point the chauffeur came around and opened the door.

"We are running late, sir."

Sebastian took the driver's hand and asked how he was doing. "How is the wife, Mary, and those great little kids of yours?" he continued.

"Fine sir, just fine," the driver responded as Sebastian got into the car.

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Sebastian willingly responded, "What you say is true. I can tell you frankly that I am a man re-born. I was a drunken, miserable, degenerate only a few months ago. I owe the change to the fact that my life was transformed in a matter of minutes. I would like to tell you how the change came about. What I will reveal will astound you, for you see, I have been given the secret of secrets--the master key that unlocks the door to life's greatest rewards, success and happiness."

I listened, certain that William Henry Sebastian could reveal a mystery of great importance. I felt "chosen" you might say, to be there at that moment to hear him speak. I could hardly wait to hear his story.

At that moment the car pulled up at the airport terminal. Sebastian stepped from the car. "I apologize, sir, but I must leave at once. I will be in Europe for awhile, and I am not certain when I will be back. However, if you are interested in hearing my story, give me your card. I promise to contact you when I return."

I gave him my card and watched as he walked into the terminal. I was almost limp with disappointment. Would I ever see William Henry Sebastian again?

I don't believe a day passed during the next three months that I did not think of Sebastian and wonder about his transformation. Whenever I would see a drunk or derelict, my thoughts would be of him. If I came near the park or walked into Ruby's Cafe, Sebastian flashed through my mind.

Finally, in late June, a lady called from Chicago. She was calling for William Henry Sebastian. "Could you have lunch with Mr. Sebastian tomorrow at Ruby's Cafe?" she asked.

I agreed readily, "It would be my pleasure!"

"Mr. Sebastian will meet you at 12:00 noon," she said.

The following day I walked into the cafe about fifteen minutes early. I noticed a beggar panhandling in front of the cafe. The beggar approached Sebastian with his hand extended. Instead of placing a coin in his palm, Sebastian took his hand and gave it a gentleman's shake. He placed his other hand on the man's shoulder and guided him toward the front door of the cafe. As they entered, Sebastian asked the beggar to be seated on one of the stools at the counter. Sebastian then spoke to the waitress, requesting that the man be permitted to order a meal of his choice. Sebastian would pick up the tab.

Then Sebastian came to my table and shook my hand. "I've looked forward to seeing you again and telling you my story. You seemed so eager to hear it." He asked if I would have the time to finish lunch before he began his story, that we walk to a quiet place in the park so we would not again be disturbed. I agreed. As we ate, Sebastian talked about his time in Europe. He had also gone to the spot on the earth that he most wanted to see--the Holy Land.

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"I was born into a prosperous family. I was the only child. My father and mother had both come from a poor childhood. My father would boast, from time to time, about being a self-made man. He started a small grocery store at the age of twenty, five years before he married. By the time wedding bells rang for mother, he had expanded the business into a giant supermarket. I was born two years later.

"From my earliest memory, I can recall my father boasting to friends that his son would never have to work like he did. He felt he had been 'looked down on' during his childhood and he was determined that nobody would look down on me. He made sure that no kid on the street had better toys than William Henry. Looking back, I can see that I was a spoiled, arrogant child. I did not quite understand why I had so few friends. I remember asking, "Mommy, why don't the other kids like me?"

"They are just jealous of you, darling", she would reply.

"I didn't do well in school simply because I didn't try. When the report card came with the bad grades or the teacher sent a note home about my behavior, I always seemed to be able to convince my parents that for some reason or another the teacher just didn't like me--that she was out to get me. Instead of recognizing that my story was merely an excuse for failure, my parents set out to get even with the teacher. They would call the principal, seeking to have the teacher fired. When that did not work, they would shift me from one school to another. Time after time, I continued to fail, blaming it on the teacher, or the kids in my class, or the lack of opportunity to do what I wanted to do . Each time my parents, no doubt believing that they were doing what was best, permitted me to ignore the reality that I was the source of my own problems.

"My father's business continued to prosper. His single supermarket soon grew into a chain of luxury supermarkets. While my father spent little time at home, he always made sure that I had plenty of money. As soon as I was old enough for a driver's license, my dad bought me the fanciest T-bird in town. I believed that money could buy anything. My date book was filled. As I roared about town, I became the envy of the guys. I was the cock of the walk. When I would throw a party, the neighborhood would turn out because we would hire a band, hand out flowers and gifts to the girls, and serve caviar and champagne. Once in a while I would talk for a minute or two about my delight that all my friends had come to the party which would always bring on whistling and applause.

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