“Imagination is more important than knowledge.”
Albert Einstein
I didn’t know Army Lieutenant Colonel Ben Purcell while I was in Vietnam, because he and other POWs captured in South Vietnam were held in different camps. We are both from North Georgia, however, and after the war we became good friends. That’s when I learned the details of his fascinating story.
As the executive officer of the 80th General Support Group serving the five provinces of South Vietnam, Purcell often travelled by helicopter from one unit to the next. On one such mission his chopper was hit by ground fire and crashed. He and the four other men aboard were captured. As they were being marched north, one of the men was too severely injured to keep up, so the V pulled him aside. A shot was heard. Purcell and the other three men never saw their companion again.
After two months of travel on foot and by truck, Ben and his three comrades were deposited at a camp in the environs of a city, which they suspected was Hanoi. From outside the walls of the compound came the sounds of trains, vehicles, and people. The V accused Purcell of being a CIA agent, threatened to try him as a war criminal, and told him he may never go home. Alone in solitary confinement, he thought constantly about how desperately his wife, Ann, and their five children needed him. He decided he had to escape and get home to his family.
Ben tricked a guard into divulging that they were indeed ten kilometers south of Hanoi. He hatched a scheme to escape from his cell by removing a panel in the door. He then planned to climb over the camp wall using a rope ladder he would make. Once outside the compound, he would follow the railroad tracks to the city, find the French consulate, and request political asylum.
Every POW talked about escape, but few attempted it. Purcell knew the odds were heavily stacked against him. He did not speak the language; he didn’t know the culture; and he didn’t look anything like the Asian citizens of the metropolitan area that surrounded the camp. Nevertheless, with determination and ingenuity, he put his plan into action.
To remove the panel, Ben needed a drill. Taking a wire that held his mosquito net to the wall, he sharpened it into a drill bit by rubbing it back and forth on the concrete floor. He then fashioned a handle for his drill by wrapping the dull end of the wire around a small piece of bamboo. Next, he drilled holes around the edges of the panel—he figured it would take about two hundred to provide sufficient perforation—and filled them with a paste made of moistened breadcrumbs and a bit of toothpaste. Finally, he camouflaged each hole by coloring the paste with soot from his lantern to match the gray door. The sawdust went into his toilet bucket, which he emptied daily.
Ben needed a sharp instrument to cut or punch out the pieces of wood between the drill holes, so he extracted a six-penny nail from the wall and flattened its pointed end into a chisel. Then he fabricated a handle for the chisel from pieces of bread dough, which he wrapped around the nail one layer at a time, hardening each layer with the heat of his kerosene lantern. He had to work slowly and cautiously to avoid detection. One day he noticed that a chicken he had occasionally fed with tiny bits of stale bread or rice squawked and ran off whenever the guards came near. Ben started feeding the chicken more often, so he would stay close to his cell. With his “watchchicken” in place, he could work more aggressively.
After three months, Ben was ready. He had drilled a sufficient number of holes to weaken the panel, and he had converted a canvas duffle bag into a ladder, a map case, and a cap that resembled those worn by Vietnamese officers. On the night of December 7, 1969, after a short prayer, he removed the panel, crawled through the door of his cell, sneaked across the camp, climbed up his ladder and over the wall, and raced into the woods.
Then things started to go awry. In the misty night, made even darker by the blackout the V had imposed to avoid air attacks, he couldn’t find the railroad tracks. After crisscrossing the terrain several times, he eventually ended up back at the camp. Realizing that sunrise was approaching and that every soldier in the area would soon be looking for him, his only choice was to travel by road.
So here comes Ben, a six-foot American POW, walking down the road to Hanoi wearing his homemade hat and his prison uniform turned inside out. His heart was beating like a loud drum. When no one paid him any attention, he began to think that he was really going to make it. Then a man riding a bicycle stopped to check him out. Looking the bicyclist straight in the eye and trying desperately not to act scared, Ben said in French, “Can you take me to the French consulate?” The man replied, “Oui,” motioned for Ben to climb on the rear-mounted carrier, and commenced peddling in broad daylight down this road crowded with scurrying Vietnamese.
On the outskirts of Hanoi, the fellow pedaled up to a small building that looked like a carnival booth. It turned out to be a police station. Within an hour, Ben was back in prison, where he was locked down in leg stocks and fed bread and water for thirty days.
After three years of isolation, the V moved Purcell to another camp with more room and much better living conditions. He was watched carefully due to his previous escape attempt, but that did not stop him from contemplating another try. One evening, when the guard came around for the nightly body count, Ben happened to be using the small toilet in the back of his room.1 The guard quickly moved on to the next cell.
That gave him an idea: he would use his ingenuity to design a urinating dummy. Over the next several weeks, Ben set the stage for his escape by timing his toilet visits to coincide with the nightly body count. During this period, he fashioned a dummy (nicknamed Charley) from some of his belongings and used a rubber bucket the V had left in his cell for the bladder. He punched a hole in the bucket, plugged it, and filled it with water. When he pulled the plug, the water poured down into the toilet bucket, making the same sound as a man urinating. The water flowed for about twenty-five minutes, which would be long enough for him to get out of the camp.
When the night of the planned escape arrived, Ben set the dummy in position, pulled the plug on the rubber bucket, unhooked the barbwire stretched across the transom over his door, and climbed onto a framing board just under the roofline. Fortunately, the guard in the corner tower had vacated his post for supper, so he scampered unseen to the bamboo fence and slithered through a ditch that went underneath. When the guard conducted the body count, he evidently saw the shoulders of the urinating dummy, thought it was Ben, and kept walking. Charley had done his job, and Ben got his twenty-five minutes of escape time to get away from the camp. But within a few hours, Purcell could hear chaotic noises of approaching search parties. After eluding them for eighteen hours, he unfortunately walked right into a cadre of armed guards.
Although Ben’s escapes were not successful, the planning and innovation kept his mind occupied and gave him a sense of achievement. During the remainder of his captivity, he continued to exercise his creativity by fashioning a number of items, including a tiny communion set that he made from empty aluminum toothpaste tubes and some buttons that he carved from bones he found in his soup. Purcell lived in solitary confinement for most of his five years as a POW, but his ingenuity and escape attempts gave him the self-respect and confidence he needed to resist, survive, and return with honor.
An extraordinary amount of ingenuity and talent bubbled up in all the POW camps. Navy LT Dan Glenn, who had a degree in architecture, spent several months designing a home. He drew the floor plan and the external renderings using ink he formulated out of brick dust, ashes, and various other materials he found in his cell. He then took sheets of toilet paper, which resembled brown paper towels, and layered them into cardboard-like sheets using glue he made from rice paste. Next, he cut out pieces of this “cardboard” using a contraband razor blade and glued them together to make a scale model of the house. Finally, he painted the model using paints he created from materials around the room. It looked just like a model you would see in an architect’s office. Dan designed several houses over the next two years, one of which he actually built and lived in after the war.
Ensign Ralph Gaither, Navy F-4 Pilot, was a man of varied talents. He wrote poetry, sang, played the guitar, and preached with conviction. This courageous resistor was also famous in the camps as a skilled craftsman who could make any tool that a POW might need. His cellmates claimed that the drills Gaither made from pieces of wire were better than those sold in hardware stores back home. They were so precise, in fact, that he even numbered them. For example, the “Gaither number 4” was good for drilling through sixteen-inch concrete walls. Ralph designed and made a mouthpiece from bread dough for one POW that was “better than the $250 one the doctor made back home!”2 Post Vietnam, he built an experimental aircraft (VariEase) that he flew for more than fifteen years.
Over at the Plantation Camp, Charley Plumb (LTJG, USN) was the resident inventor. An engineer with a strong background in electronics, he developed more than a dozen devices to measure time, temperature, and weight. He was well on his way to making a radio when the V discovered his stash of razor blades, nails, wire, spools, and tinfoil. Plumb also scratched a keyboard on his bed boards and went over the notes until he could hear them in his head.
As already mentioned, innovation in our communications was so constant it became a way of life. After the Son Tay raid, when we were moved back to the Hanoi Hilton and put in larger cells, the amount of communications traffic increased so much that we had difficulty relaying it from one room to the next. Warner had an idea to solve the problem—with “amoebas.” He recruited about a dozen guys. Each was to be responsible for one message, a single packet—or “cell”—of information, just as an amoeba is a one-cell organism.
For example, as I received a silent message via hand code from Tom McNish (1st Lt, USAF) over in room 2, I would interpret it aloud to the first amoeba in line. After listening to my translation, he would go to a corner of the room and memorize his “byte.” The next amoeba in line would then step up, and we would repeat the process. After each amoeba had memorized his packet of information, he would go to the other end of the room and regurgitate the message to a communicator, who would speak it into the next room through the blanket roll. The amoeba would then get back in line and stand by for another byte download. This creative solution allowed us to significantly increase the volume and accuracy of covert communication passing through our room.
Jerry Venanzi (1st Lt, USAF) was an outgoing chap from New Jersey with extraordinary dramatic talents. After six months of solitary confinement at Son Tay, the sense of isolation was getting to be too much for this extrovert. He remembered a story he had read about a Korean War POW who pretended to lose his mind, so he decided to try the same tactic. The next time the guards let Jerry out of his cell to go to the washroom, he hopped on an imaginary motorcycle, kick-started the engine, and roared off across the compound. As we watched his humorous antics through the cracks in our cell doors, we were rolling on the floor laughing. His authentic pantomime and roaring sound effects were so convincing that we rubbed our eyes to see if he was riding a real motorcycle.
Jerry repeated this charade consistently for a few weeks. Then he embellished the act by pretending he had a pet monkey named Barney. He would get on his motorcycle, help Barney onto the seat behind him, and the two of them would tear off across the compound like a couple of teenagers on a lark. He’d talk to that monkey and play with it as if it was real. After a while, the guards were convinced that Jerry was going crazy, so they took him out of solitary.
One evening after dark we heard the rattling of keys. When the turnkey opened the door, there stood Jerry. He was the first new man to join our five-member cell in two years, and what a great addition he was! As a young teen, Jerry had worked at a movie theater, where he had seen some movies so many times he had them memorized. He would entertain us by retelling movies with extraordinary accuracy, sometimes even acting out the scenes. After we were released, I saw The Days of Wine and Roses, and it was exactly the way Jerry had dramatically related it to us back in our cell.
After we moved to Unity we had sufficient talents in that big room to carry out all sorts of entertainment programs. Captain Bill Butler (USAF), our resident French and biology expert, was also a musical whiz and a great teacher. He recruited, trained, and directed a fantastic choir who performed on Sundays and on special occasions, such as our Fourth of July celebrations. Anticipating that we might be together for a few more years and that we would need more singers for major performances, he devised an amazing class to teach the basics of music.
Using a piece of broken brick, Bill drew a keyboard on the concrete slab in one corner of the room. The keys were just large enough for a person to stand on, with the black keys shaded to differentiate them from the white ones. He then had his choir members stand on the keys and make their appropriate sounds. Using his choir like an instrument, he moved them to various keys and had them hum their note to demonstrate the major and minor chords, as well as augmented and diminished variations. This highly creative class aroused considerable interest in music. A few months later Bill organized and conducted a Broadway-style musical, South Pacific. It was one of the highlights of the year, giving us some fun and taking our minds off our plight, lifting our spirits for a few days. During tryouts, it was obvious to all—including me—that my singing would not enhance the performance, so I enjoyed it as a spectator from my comfortable seat on the elevated sleeping concrete slab.
Major Gene Smith (USAF) treated us to an innovatively orchestrated rendition of the movie Grand Prix. Just prior to deployment several of us had given this movie “two thumbs up” for its beautiful women and fast cars with powerful engines that roared around the track in first-of-its-kind surround-sound realism. Gene recruited and positioned men around the room to imitate the movie’s sound effects. As he narrated the story, the room came alive with the roar of engines. The performance was a big hit with everyone except the guards, who eventually beat on the door and told us to quiet down.
In spite of our many innovative talents, there was one thing we couldn’t create: females. But that didn’t stop the guys in room 2 from having dancing lessons, in preparation for the good times that would surely come when we were released. They got through the basics, but it was hard to sustain the practice. One of my friends explained, “It was very awkward when it came my turn to play the lady’s role.” I guess there are a few things fighter pilots don’t do very well.
“Necessity is the mother of invention,” said Plato. We certainly found that to be true in the bare and deprived conditions of the POW camps. Innovation and creativity were essential for survival.
Innovation also is essential for survival in business. In a “2010 Global CEO Study” conducted by IBM, 60 percent of the 1,500+ CEOs interviewed said they believed creativity would be the most important attribute leaders must possess during the years ahead.3 The study found that most CEOs don’t believe their enterprises are adequately prepared for the twenty-first century business environment, which will be characterized by dynamically shifting global power centers, rapidly transforming industries, exponentially escalating amounts of information, more intrusive government regulation, and dramatically changing customer preferences.
The most successful leaders, the IBM study concludes, will highly value creativity and consistently pursue innovative ideas. They will readily welcome disruptive innovation, drop outdated approaches, take balanced risks, and be willing to totally reinvent themselves and their companies when necessary.
Forward-looking leaders have always done that. Andy Grove and Gordon Moore are a case in point. As early leaders of Intel Corporation, they asked themselves the question, “What would a new management do if we were kicked out and they were brought in?” The answer, they decided, was that smart leaders would get Intel out of the memory chip business. Armed with this new clarity, Andy and Gordon literally walked out of the company’s offices, shut the door, and then reentered with a new perspective and a commitment to transition Intel into the microprocessor business. The rest is history.4
Organizations of all types—business, nonprofit, educational, and military—must innovate, but how do you manage it? Curtis Carlson, CEO of SRI International, made an observation that has become known as “Carlson’s Law.” He says, “In a world where so many people now have access to education and cheap tools of innovation, innovation that happens from the bottom up tends to be chaotic, but smart. Innovation that happens from the top down tends to be orderly, but dumb.”5 Visionary leaders stimulate progress by inviting, encouraging, and managing innovation from both the bottom and the top.
As a leadership consultant, I have the opportunity to interact with a wide variety of leaders, most of whom are quite good.6 But when it comes to innovation, Bob Pedersen, CEO of Goodwill Industries of North Central Wisconsin (Goodwill NCW), is unsurpassed. To begin with, Bob is an authentic leader who is comfortable with himself. He leads from the inside out and practices the leadership attributes outlined in this book. He and his outstanding team are not afraid to take risks and depart from conventional processes and mindsets, but they do not allow the organization to depart from its core value: “We put people first.”7
The organization’s supporting value, “We provide opportunities for the growth and development of people,” provides the foundation of Goodwill’s unique business model. This respected charity accepts donations of goods, sells them to the public, and uses the proceeds to help people who are struggling with disabilities, unemployment, and poverty. The organization itself provides jobs and job training to people who might otherwise be unemployed or unemployable.
This operational model is not unique—there are Goodwill facilities across the United States—but the commitment Bob and his team have made to inviting, encouraging, and managing innovation sets his organization apart. For example, a few years ago they diversified their offerings by opening the Harmony Café, a welcoming coffee house that celebrates the diversity of people (also a core value) in the community through arts, social interaction, and community involvement (another core value). This outreach provides jobs and revenues to expand other community support activities.
The organization’s profits also fund personal development activities inside the organization. These programs are led and managed by Kris Hackbarth-Horn, whose title, COO People, underscores the importance of people in this “people business.” For example, what most companies would call an employee handbook is an attractive publication called the Gwizdom Handbook. Another publication, the Care-fronting Guidebook, tells managers how to give positive and negative feedback in a way that balances good results and good relationships. All managers participate in the Caring Leader Program, which prescribes an intentional, structured approach for continuous growth of supervisors and managers.
If you are a highly results-oriented person, this creative, people-centric focus may sound soft. Many leaders fear that such a strong emphasis on people will undermine profitable performance, but just the opposite is true. At Goodwill NCW, it has boosted store revenues by more than 300 percent in the last ten years. Significant profits have been channeled into surrounding communities to help the disadvantaged become more independent. Bob and his excellent team have been reaping the benefits of innovation for several years. They didn’t wait for the IBM study!
Creativity exists in various forms. Some people are truly “out of the box” original thinkers. Their creative efforts are so innovative that revolutionary change results. Others are more concrete, and their innovation is more evolutionary in nature. They “connect the dots” and come up with ways to improve on current processes and on the original ideas of others. Both types of creativity are necessary and valuable.
As the leader, you do not need to be the most innovative person in your organization, nor do you need to birth every idea. However, you do need to cultivate an environment that fosters innovation and facilitates management of it. Here are some suggestions about how to do this:
Create a climate that values and encourages innovation. Remember in Chapter 7 how Ralph de la Vega, President and CEO, AT&T Mobility and Consumer Markets, challenged a task force to find and acquire disruptive technologies for the organization to develop and market? Innovative leaders come up with innovative ways to foster innovation.
Be intentional in your efforts to attract and develop creative people. Assess candidates for creativity, and hire based on your needs. Most organizations can only handle so many highly creative people. Keep in mind that highly imaginative people can become discouraged when they are not supported with the freedom and resources they need to innovate. On the other hand, leaders need a vetting process for new concepts, or else they’ll be worn out by an endless stream of “crazy ideas.” Properly supported and managed, a few highly creative people can make a significant contribution to a team.
Mine the minds of all your people. It pays to assume that all individuals are creatively talented in some way and to some degree. Even in room 3 with only fifty-five “military minds,” we had more than enough creativity to launch a mini-university without a single book. One of a leader’s main responsibilities is to identify the innovative talents of people and match them to the needs of the organization. People whose creativity is tapped tend to come alive with an energy and passion that is contagious.
Foot Stomper: Think futuristically and innovate to stay competitive. Everyone has the capacity for innovative ideas; the leader’s job is to draw them out. Harness the ideas of the creative folks, and allow them to pull you ahead of the competition.
Innovation and creativity are crucial in today’s fast-changing world. Are you keeping up?
1. What is your mindset about innovation? Is it an integral part of your leadership philosophy? How do you manage innovation processes in your organization? Do you aggressively push for innovation and support creative people, or do you fear the risk of innovation and try to avoid it?
2. Do you intentionally identify and exploit the talents of your most creative people? Some assessment instruments, such as the N8Traits tool mentioned earlier, will help you identify them. How do you evaluate their ideas and keep them motivated?
3. How do you draw out new ideas from those who are not naturally highly creative? Is everyone thinking about ways to improve processes and improve efficiencies? Do you give a good hearing to the ideas of others?
Note: To download an expanded version of these coaching questions for writing your responses, visit LeadingWithHonor.com.
1 We never saw a normal flushable toilet in the camps. Some cells had a partially walled-off area for privacy. Two bricks were fastened to the concrete-slab floor for your feet, and there was a hole in the slab for the waste bucket.
2 John Nasmyth, 2555 Days. (New York, NY: Orion, 1991) 190-192.
3 IBM Global Study, http://www-03.ibm.com/press/us/en/pressrelease/31670.wss (accessed February 26, 2011).
4 As related by an Intel senior executive.
5 Thomas L. Friedman. “Advice to China.” New York Times, June 4, 2011.
6 Enlightened and confident leaders want to grow and welcome help. Insecure leaders usually don’t want anyone to hold up a mirror.
7 For more on Goodwill Industries NCW and their values, see Goodwill Industries, http://www.goodwillncw.org/missionvision.htm.
Coaching: EXPLOIT CREATIVITY