When the so-called Great Recession started in late 2007, the lives of most Americans were affected. As someone in his early 80s who has seen the effects of the Great Depression, lived in wartime Holland during World War II and immigrated to the United States in the late 1940s with nothing but the bare necessities, I have been blessed to have built several successful businesses while raising a large family.
The reason I wrote this book is to help those who are willing to work hard so that they, too, can live the American dream. Within this book are the principles I have dedicated myself to living. It is my hope that they will help you, the reader, to likewise enjoy a life filled with success and meaning.
Often when I meet young people they will tell me stories of struggling to make ends meet while living through our current difficult times. The story of one young man stands out. Over coffee he remarked: “Mr. Baron, you are a wealthy man who has enjoyed great success in your business and personal life. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get ahead. Do you have any suggestions that can help me achieve success?”
I thought long and hard about what that young man was asking. My heart went out to him because he had seemingly lost all hope. At the same time I also knew if he followed the path I’d taken he, too, would find success. Even though our current times may seem difficult, the world has lived through worse.
When I was born in 1930, the world was in the midst of a depression never before seen. In the United States, unemployment peaked at over 25 percent while in the Netherlands, where I spent my first eighteen years, a similar percentage of people were without jobs.
Then in 1940, just as Holland was beginning to recover, my homeland was attacked by the Nazi’s during the Battle of the Netherlands and remained occupied until 1945. After the wartime years, Holland found itself living with the ruins of war and faced with massive housing shortages, lack of food and no prospects for work. It was during those years, after the war, that my family decided to immigrate to the United States.
Though the United States was not attacked on its mainland during World War II, in large part it funded the war and sacrificed many of its sons and daughters. By the end of the war the national debt rose to 120 percent of its gross domestic product (GDP), which is even a higher percentage than the roughly 100 percent it is at today.
When our family arrived in the United States the rate of inflation was over 10 percent, triple the percentage of inflation today.
Since the founding of the United States with the Declaration of Independence in 1776, there have been forty-six confirmed recessions. That equates to one recession every five years. In my lifetime I have lived through fourteen of them. My first was as a child in the Netherlands during the Great Depression of the 1930s and throughout World War II, and later during adulthood after my family immigrated to America. Though the recent so-called Great Recession of 2007-2009 was certainly horrible for those caught up in the subprime mortgage crisis and subsequent unemployment, there have been other recessions that were also devastating. Two of the worst were the recessions of 1973-1975 when oil prices quadrupled and unemployment shot up to 9 percent and the recession of 1981-1982 starting with the Iranian Revolution and resulting in stagflation—high interest rates coupled with a stagnant economy, inflation and high unemployment. The point is that recessions are a natural occurrence and that we need to be prepared.
Though recessions happen, the good news is that they are always followed by a time of economic expansion. Therefore, navigating the seesaw nature of worldwide economics requires individuals to always keep their personal finances in balance.
Fortune magazine, in a recent Fortune 500 edition, determined that 40 percent of listed companies were either founded by an immigrant or the children of an immigrant. The revenue generated by Fortune 500 companies founded by immigrants or children of immigrants is larger than the GDP of every other country in the world except China and Japan.
This is proof positive that those who immigrate to the United States are still able to live out the American dream.
If you are either new to our country or find yourself in a situation where things are not heading your way, it is important to know that in life we are often tested with less than ideal situations. However, in many other countries one’s lot in life is determined very early on by family wealth (or lack thereof) or a person’s place in society. Here in this country what was true decades ago is still true today. If you work hard, understand the business you are in or job you have and display a positive attitude, you have just as much of a chance to be successful as any other person in our country.
Recently, The New York Times ran a series of articles featuring debates about whether America was still the land of opportunity. Each debate focused on specific issues such as personal debt, education, wealth, inheritance and hard work. While there are many challenges in each of those areas, when it comes to entrepreneurialism, America is the best country in the world for taking an idea and turning it into a business.
My own story of immigrating to America after World War II with little more than a few belongings is one that is still possible today. Though today’s immigrants are more likely to come from areas outside western Europe, the journey is very much the same.
My mother had two cousins who, along with their families, immigrated to the U.S. before the outbreak of World War II. After the war ended, and because of the devastation in the Netherlands and the rest of Europe, Mom’s cousins were anxious to find out if she and her family survived. Soon letters started arriving and before long my parents were discussing moving to America. At the time I didn’t pay much attention, nor was I the least bit interested in making such a life-changing move. Instead, as a young man who was nearly eighteen years old, I was more concerned about helping my dad make a success of our family farm. My lack of interest was also due to my other activities at the time including my electronics and honeybee businesses (not to mention the thought of leaving my girlfriend behind). I can remember Mom saying, “We think that emigrating might be best for our children’s futures. But if you and your brother Henk aren’t interested, we might drop the idea.” From her remarks, it was apparent that she and Dad would be disappointed if we didn’t go with them.
One day a bold headline in our weekly newspaper grabbed my attention. “Amerika. Land van Onbegrensde Mogelijkheden” (America, Land of Unlimited Opportunities). The article excited me. After work that evening I walked the short distance to our neighbors little bar and café. The owner, Mr. Boonstra, was easy to talk to and after I ordered a soft drink he sat down to chat. “I hear your parents are thinking of emigrating to America, Sietze. Is that true?”
“Ja, that’s true, but I’m not at all excited about it, so it may not happen. That’s just fine with me.”
“What?” he said with incredulity. “You’re not excited about it? You’re crazy!” I asked him why. “You’re a young man. It’s an enormous adventure, and you can always come back and start your life here if you don’t like it.”
Prior to that I hadn’t thought of it as an adventure, but after speaking with Mr. Boonstra it made a lot of sense. That night, when I returned home, I told Mom and Dad that I was in full agreement with their emigration plans. Soon I sold my bees, the inventory of honey and most of my electronics. Unfortunately the money didn’t do me any good since I wouldn’t be able to use it in America.
Early one morning, in late May 1948, our family, together with uncles and aunts and other close friends, filled a bus and headed to Rotterdam. That afternoon we boarded the S.S. Veendam, a Holland America cruise ship, and began our voyage to America. I still remember standing at the railing on the top deck and waving goodbye to my girlfriend who was walking along the shore waving the handkerchief she used to dry her tears, perhaps knowing we would never see each other again.
As the coastline of Holland disappeared in the distance I wondered if I’d ever see the land of my birth again. While pondering that question an announcement told us to gather in the dining room for dinner. It was the most beautiful dining room I had ever seen. As our family gathered around a table we were handed a menu which seemed to be in French, a language none of us could read. When the perfectly dressed waiter asked for my order I simply pointed at a menu item. Once my dinner arrived I had no idea what was on the plate. It certainly wasn’t anything I’d eaten before. But it had been a long day and we were tired after being awake for many hours. After dinner we were shown our sleeping quarters which were nothing like the luxurious spacious guest rooms of present day cruise ships. Instead, ours was a tiny room equipped with two bunk beds. It didn’t matter. We had nothing to compare it to, and that night my brother and I slept soundly.
The following morning after breakfast, my brother Henry and I decided to explore the ship. Standing at the railing of one of the upper decks all we saw was water. No coastlines anywhere, only ocean water with foaming waves as far as the eye could see. Later when our family gathered in the dining room for our first lunch at sea, mother was absent. Dad informed us she was not feeling well. As it turned out she would be seasick the entire eleven days of our trans-oceanic journey to our new home.
We soon discovered that many of the passengers aboard were also emigrating from Holland to America. It didn’t take us too long to find some friends around our age from our homeland province of Friesland. I especially remember Hylke, who was a couple years older than me. He had relatives in the state of Wisconsin who were sponsoring him. I asked him what he did during the war years. Hylke told me that the last two years of the war he was in hiding with others who were active in the Dutch underground resistance movement. Even though he was a little too young to be directly involved in the movement, he knew they were hiding a man wanted by the Germans. If the Germans had found he was hiding the man his entire family would have been executed. He went on to explain that their group was involved in sabotaging German installations and recovering weapons dropped by the British Royal Air Force for use by the Freedom Fighters.
Hylke and I had a great talk and soon we were laughing like old friends. But after a while our laughter was drowned out by the sound of an ever-increasing wind howling up against the ship. I walked to the bow and leaned over the protective railing. The ship was pitching as it plunged into the waves only to rise again and repeat the pitching motion. It made me feel a little queasy. Now I understood why Mom was seasick. I decided to go to the cabin and lie down for a while. As I walked through the parlor I noticed several people enjoying tea and cookies. One elderly lady was sitting alone. She motioned for me to come over to her. “Can you get me a cup of tea?”
Though I didn’t understand English the word tea is the same in both the Dutch and English languages. She pointed to where a waiter was pouring tea. I responded by bringing the lady a cup and placing it in front of her on the table. She smiled and reached over as though she wanted to shake hands. Instead what she wanted was to give me a tip for being kind and helpful to her. When I opened my hand after shaking hers, there, for the first time in my life, I saw an American dollar. I knew how to say “thank you” in English and did so, with a big smile. I felt rich.
When I woke up on Friday morning, June 4, 1948, I felt our ship slowing down and could no longer feel the rocking motion of the ocean. I said to my brother Henry, who was writing in his logbook, “We must be nearing our destination.” He told me we were due to arrive in Hoboken, New Jersey. We decided to grab some breakfast at the buffet and then climb the stairs to the upper deck to have a look. As we walked past Mom and Dad’s cabin we noticed they were both busy packing our suitcases. Henry and I raced up the stairways to the top deck. “Look Sid,” Henry said with excitement in his voice, “There is the Statue of Liberty.” We were awestruck. The famous symbol of freedom and liberty seemed so close and so huge. We were in America, the land of unlimited opportunities.
Early that afternoon we set foot in our adopted homeland for the first time. But our excitement was subdued because of the fear of the unknown. We headed to our first stop, which was at the Seaman’s House—a mission that supplied food and other supplies to newly arrived immigrants. At the Seaman’s House we were supplied sacks of sandwiches, which would be our only food during our long train ride west. Though at that time we did not realize it, the four-day train ride would literally bring us from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean. During our long train ride we sat, ate sandwiches and slept on our wooden train seats. We did not have money to enjoy any of the creature comforts available. At around seven in the morning, on June 8, 1948, we arrived in Seattle. Then, after boarding a different train, early that same afternoon we arrived in Bellingham, Washington where our family was greeted by one of my mother’s cousins and her husband. From there they took us to their farm home in Everson. For the first time in over two weeks we enjoyed a delicious meal together as a family which had been wonderfully prepared by Mom’s cousin, Jeanette Lankhaar.
Within a couple days my father and I got jobs on a large farm. Our family moved into a small unpainted house, which was more like a shack than a home. Life for us in America had just begun. There were several employees of the farm, none of whom was able to speak or understand Dutch. The foreman gave me the instructions for our work assignment and, after I understood what we needed to do, I explained it to my Dad in Dutch. I had no choice but to learn English quickly. Later I often regarded it as a blessing because I realized without learning to speak, read and write in the language of my new country, as flawlessly as possible, it would be impossible to realize the American dream of unlimited opportunities.