Meeting Charles Bronson
Approaching Bronson, I pointed to the surgeon, Prof. Y.K. Lee, who bowed in our direction, telling the actor that the surgeon’s grandson was a die-hard fan. The movie icon waved his hand in my face, dismissively, while he calmly yet firmly uttered two words: ”No Autographs!!!”
As the tough-guy actor walked away, I stood silent and shocked until his female aide came up to me. She apologized for his busy schedule and offered a flimsy excuse for his show of arrogance. At barely 5-foot-9-inches in stature, he wore lifts to raise his height, and continued his strut in the hotel lobby for another 20 minutes.
The power that came with celebrity status fueled the egos of many, and it seemed Bronson had a gargantuan opinion of his own. My father, an amateur boxer, stocky and one inch shorter than Bronson, had a mean left hook. At 17, I’d outgrown my dad to reach just under 5’11”, but never challenged his authority. I wondered what he would have done in response to this belittling slight.
I vowed never to watch another movie starring Bronson.
Casino Night
Upon arrival, Jerry and I sat side-by-side at a Grand Lisboa Casino blackjack table when the surrender rule came up. Each of us bet $100 per hand. The dealer’s hand showed a nine, and we assumed he had a ten as his hole card. I was dealt two Aces, and, of course, split them. Amazingly, I got a third Ace, which moved my bet up to $300.
Jerry had an eight as his upcard and a ten as his hole card. I now had two hands, each totaling twenty-one, and one a miserable fifteen. I could’ve surrendered that hand and lost $50, half my bet. The dealer annoyingly said, “You surrender, you surrender,” but feeling lucky, I retorted, “Americans never surrender.”
Well, the dealer busted by going over twenty-one. I won all three hands, and Jerry won his as well, yelling, “I like your style!”
Our mutual respect increased after the time we spent together visiting hospitals in Hong Kong. From that visit forward, I eagerly followed his lead in the acute cardiopulmonary competition with Bentley, Harvey, and Cobe. After three days of spicy Asian foods, Jerry requested something mild and recognizable. On that last night together back in Hong Kong, to celebrate a highly successful visit, only one place came to mind for a superb Western meal: Gaddi’s at the Peninsula Hotel. He raved about the food, my fortitude at the blackjack table, and my sales results for the company. My stock within the company rose.
Pigs and Promos
While in China with Larry Wettlaufer, I happened to be wearing a Shiley promo shirt when an accident occurred — a feral pig darted across the road and was struck. Since our driver was the “killer,” he sped off toward the Great Wall, but not before we convinced him to take a photo of us with the pig.
Larry and I sat in the back seat, puzzled and half-amused by what we’d just witnessed. Nothing good would have come from a police interrogation — especially since we were wàiguó rén, foreigners in every sense.
When I later told colleagues at Shiley about the incident, few believed it. Fortunately, I had a photo to prove it. Even now, Larry and I still share a hearty laugh about that wild day in China.
A Stop Along the Way
Before heading to Hawaii, I had to make a follow-up visit to India to cover marketing strategies with Rajiv Mahajan. I allowed 5 days to work on the plan and meet with some new surgeons interested in our pericardial valve. While there in India, I boarded a flight from New Delhi to Kathmandu, Nepal, with Mr. Mahajan. The trip came after spending a few days in Delhi calling on the leading (aka busiest) surgeons. Dr. P. Venugopal and his competent team at The All India Institute of Medical Sciences, one of the country’s most active public programs. I had to thank them for their support and the use of Shiley valves, blood oxygenators, and tracheostomy tubes, which is precisely why Rajiv requested that I come to India. The Everest mountain flight, perhaps a reward for doing my job? A loyal dealer who relied on a manufacturer’s support underscored my appreciation for the actual value of personal relationships over time. My footprints continued down this cardiovascular path I eagerly traveled. My confidence grew as I became more familiar with scores of heart surgeons in the region.
Nepal had been on my early list of “places I must visit” after arriving in Sydney in 1980. Almost three years later, I observed its majestic peak, which pointed straight to the heavens, with nothing earthbound to block my view. I couldn’t imagine the determination it took to climb to the summit. This two-day escape from the heat and dust of Delhi set aside further talk of reaching the mid-year forecast of heart valves and related equipment.
By chance, we ran into Dr. Nemish Shah and his wife, Rukmini, in the hotel lobby that first day. They had taken the mountain flight the day before and were headed home to Bombay. I convinced him to try the Ionescu valve due to its lower profile and excellent hemodynamics. He wore the “Pigs T-Shirt” at the next Indian Heart Surgery meeting. It is gratifying to have a respected senior surgeon promote the benefits of your valve to his colleagues. With a handshake and a pat on the shoulder, Dr. Shah invited me to visit him at Bombay Hospital before returning to Tokyo.
The questionable weather the next day caused worry: We’d have to wait until that morning to see if airport controllers would permit a takeoff. They did!! My heart added some beats when boarding the 12-passenger aircraft in service for the flight as we awaited a look at the mountain’s peak.
Passengers could take photos from a large window by the captain’s left side. Once back in your seat, the steward handed each passenger a chilled can of Heineken Beer to honor Sagarmatha — Rajiv did not drink alcohol, and in consuming both my beer and his, I foolishly announced to those around me,
“I’m the highest guy in the world right now!” It could have made a great advertisement: “And Heineken is the only Beer for me”! That photo above has remained with me for decades, along with the Heineken story I repeatedly told to friends and family members.
That powerful buzz flying on Royal Nepal Airlines astride the world’s tallest mountain became fixed in my mind’s repertoire like no other —the words “purple mountain majesty” come to mind. “Asia the Beautiful” had become my home and a new classroom where my eyes, ears, nose, and taste buds were bombarded each time I landed in a new city.
Now entrenched in the business world throughout Asia, I became a student of its mystique and grandeur in every city I visited.