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For Mom (and Dad)
All of the author's profits from this book benefit
specialized schools for dy slexic children.

But I nev er saw m y m other sleep. In fact, she only sat

down during dinner and later for about three m inutes in
the tub of our one bathroom . Although Mom was
perennially pregnant, she was alway s on the m ov ea
blurry blue Sears housedress topped by a wav y blond
perm and supported by two sturdy speed-walking legs.
She had bulging purple v aricose v eins that grew with
each child, and I was alway s worried that they were
going to pop. But they didn't.
On any giv en day , Mom could be found in one of two
places: the outside landing, where she hung the laundry ,
or the kitchen, where she jogged between the ironing
board and the ov en. It seem ed m y m other could do a
hundred things at once, all the while keeping at least one
of her blue ey es on her ten children.
"Watch y ourself, Eddie!" she'd shout down from the
landing to m y oldest brother in the side y ard.
"Rem em ber, y ou're a born leader and all the boy s are
watching y ou!" Then she'd v room down the fourteen
wooden steps, hip the laundry basket through the
banging screen door into the kitchen, and dum p it onto
the table.
"You're the absolute best helper, Ellen," she'd say as m y
eager sister did the folding. "You're going to m ake a
wonderful m other!"
Shortly after noon, Mom would begin preparations for
dinner, serv ed nightly at six o'clock sharp. "Barbara
Ann!" she'd y ell down the basem ent stairs as she peeled

potatoes. "Com e on up here and take Florence, Tom m y ,

and Mary Jean. They need som e entertainm ent and if
y ou're going to be a star, y ou'll need to practice."
And that was m y m other's genius. S.he kept her house
going by putting her finger on the special gift she saw in
each of her children, and m aking each and ev ery one of
us believ e that that gift was uniquely ours. Whether it
was true or not, we all believ ed it.
1 1 was Nana Henwood who predicted m y destiny .
Besides being alm ost a m idget, m y grandm other also
had the honor of being our bedtim e m asseuse. While m y
m other packed our lunches for the next day , Nana would
m ake the rounds and spend a
few m inutes with each of her ten grandchildren,
rubbing our backs and whispering happiness into our
ears.
One night when I was elev en, Nana cam e to m y bed
and found m e cry ing. Dark hair had suddenly sprouted
all ov er m y arm s, and I was hiding the two bearded lim bs
under the cov ers.
u Let m e see y our arm s," Nana coaxed.
"No," I cried, "they look like Dad's!"
She pulled m y arm s from beneath the cov ers and
rubbed them . "Hairy arm s!" She beam ed proudly . "That
m eans y ou're going to be rich!"
A few y ears later, hoping to fulfill Nana's prophecy . I
got m y first job as a sum m er play ground superv isor. By
the tim e I turned twenty -four, Fd hav e twenty -two

others.
It was m y twenty -fourth job that m ade m e rich. How
did I get there?
First, I believ ed Nana's words.
More im portant, I used what I learned from m y
m other.
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MOM

F D W I N JR.
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Hav e Big Breasts

Put Ribbons on
Your Pigtails
Well, Gloria and her two well-rounded friends. Gloria
was built like Dolly Parton with a big bleached-blond
swirl of cotton candy hair. Her breasts were the specialty
of the house and had the power to lure m en off the street,
ev en if they weren't hungry . She could carry six cups of
coffee stacked on top of them , and nev er spill a drop.
Gloria and her dy nam ic duo had put the Fort Lee
Diner on the m ap, and watching the twins bounce around
the diner had becom e sport in Fort Lee. I was watching
her work the front section and, in an effort to feel busy , I
was wiping the barren Form ica landscape in front of m e
with a soggy white rag.
The double alum inum doors at the far end of the diner
opened and in walked m y destiny . I knew he was there
before I ev er looked up. With his dark skin and jet-black
hair, he was unlike the working-class custom ers who
frequented the place. In his blue av iator shades, he was
different, probably from a land v ery far away . At least
across the riv er, I figured.
I had seen his crisp, white flat collar and rich dark suit
on only one other person in m v twenty -one y earsIrv in
Rosenthal, the elderly owner of the Palisades Am usem ent
Park. The Park hov ered atop the cliff abov e our house like
a blinking, flashing, whirring spaceship. During the
sum m ers of m y childhood, when Mr. Rosenthal drov e

down Undercliff Av enue in his black lim ousine, all the

kids of Edge water ran up to his car like chickens to the
feet of a farm er's wife, each of us hoping to get m ore than
our fair share of free ride tickets. In his finery , Mr.
Rosenthal was like a king. We all knew he was rich.
Besides the fact that he owned the am usem ent park, he
just sm elled different from all of us riv er rats.
Ram one sm elled different, too, I decided, ev en from
across the room and ov er the thick arom a of fry ing bacon
and eggs. Instead of asking to sit in Gloria's station, he
looked at the m anager and, with a quick lift of his chin,
pointed toward m e, the y oung innocent behind the
counter. He walked across the diner, strutting like a
pigeon. My
ey es m et his blue av iator shades. Finally ^ I thought,
as he took a seat at the second stool, an interesting
custom er.
He ordered a cup of tea, and while I banged in and out
of the swinging kitchen door, he sat and sipped it, hardly
m ov ing, just watching as I worked m y counter.
I lov ed m y counter. It was m y territory , and
ev ery thing that went on there was under m y control.
There were nine stools and ev ery third one had a setup:
glass sugar container, ketchup bottle, salt and pepper
shakers, and a tin filled with white napkins. Since I was
stuck behind the counter face-to-face with m y custom ers,
I often serv ed as their dinner com panion. So I m ade the
m ost of it and entertained them with conv ersation.

Ram one told m e he was from the "Basque Country ." I

didn't know if Basque was a town in New Jersey or not,
and I suppose m y face gav e m e away . It wasn't just any
place in Spain, he explained, it was the upper echelon of
French-Spanish society .
He said his father, had blond hair and blue ey es, just
like m ine, and he liked the red ribbons on m y pigtails. I
sm iled, spritzing the napkin tins and chrom e tops of the
sugar containers with Windex and shining them with a
paper towel.
He left sixty -fiv e cents on the counter and offered m e a
ride hom e. I didn't need to weigh the optionswalk the
fiv e blocks to the num ber 8 Lem oine Av enue bus or be
driv en hom e by the m an from the Basque Country . "I'm
finished at ten," I blurted.
After m y shift, I took the diner's concrete steps two at a
tim e. Ram one was parked at the bottom in a buttercupy ellow Lincoln Continental, the kind with the hum p on
the back. I opened the door and clim bed into a car v ery
different from any I'd ev er been in. The seats felt like
talcum powder against m y arm s and sm elled expensiv e,
unlike the crunchy seats of Dad's blue station wagon.
Ten m inutes later, we pulled up to the curb in front of
m y house. Ray he said I could call him Ray followed m e
up our front steps and into the liv ing room . I offered him
a seat on the black v iny l sofa
where m y parents slept and he was quickly
surrounded by a blur of ten blond-haired, blue-ey ed

cookie-cutter kids. I introduced Ram one Sim one, from the

Basque Country , to m y fam ily .
My fam ily hated Ray on sight, especially m y m om ,
who, contrary to her norm ally welcom ing way s, wanted
the Dark Knight out of her house as quickly as possible.
"He's m uch older than y ou" is all I rem em ber her say ing
after Ray left. What she didn't say scream ed loudly in the
silence.
Ray waited outside the diner ev ery night and gav e m e
a ride hom e. I guess y ou could say we were dating,
though I didn't think of the rides that way . He told m e he
was a big real estate dev eloper and built houses in ev ery
town in New Jersey except m ine. I also learned that he
was fifteen y ears older than I and was div orced with three
daughters. To m e, this all added to the intrigue.
A few m onths later, Ray said a sm art girl like m e
should be liv ing in the Big City , and to get m e started, he
offered to pay for a week at the Barbizon Hotel for Wom en.
To m y m other's dism ay , I jum ped at his offer and packed
up a few belongings.
I carried m y suitcase down from the third floor. I had
packed only m y black ribbed sweater, two pleated skirts,
m y nav y -blue pea-coat, and m y new pair of pajam as.
Mom was standing next to the liv ing room radiator
sorting socks.
"Now, Barbara,'' she said, pushing m y bangs away
from m y ey es and looking out the front door toward the
street. "Don't y ou be fooled by that fancy car!"

T know, I know, Mom ," I said, giv ing her a quick peck
on the cheek and a one-arm ed hug.
"And rem em ber, if y ou change y our m ind, y ou can
alway s com e hom e."
With that, I hurried down the steps and clim bed into
Ray 's big Lincoln with the y ellow leather seats. I felt the
sam e m ixture of fear and excitem ent I did ev ery tim e the
Cy clone clicked toward
the top of the big hill. I didn't say a word as Ray rev v ed
the car's engine and turned onto Hilliard Av enue, but I
did take one last look back at the house sitting beneath
the L of the Palisades Am usem ent Park sign.
Ray gav e m e som e m oney to go buy m y self a "real
New York outfit." I bought a purple onea stretchy
lav ender lace top, lav ender corduroy bellbottom s with six
lav ender buttons on the hip, and a pair of lace-up. kneehigh, lav ender suede boots. I walked out of Bloom ingdale's all purple and paraded up Lexington Av enue
sin g in g , "Hey there! Georgy Girl, swinging down the
street so fancy free ..." I knew I was lookin' good and
needed only two m ore things to stay in New York: a job
and an apartm ent.
The next m orning. I put on m y new outfit and applied
for a receptionist's position with the Giffuni Brothers
com pany on Eighty -third and First. Thelm a, m y
interv iewer, explained that the Giffuni Brothers were two
wealthy landlords who owned a dozen apartm ent
buildings in Manhattan and Brookly n. She said I'd be in

charge of greeting ev ery tenant who called with: "Good

m orning, Giffuni Brothers."
By the end of the day , I had landed the receptionist's
position and by the end of the week I had used the Village
V oice want ads to find an apartm ent three blocks away
from the office and two girls to share the rent. I m ov ed
m y self out of the Barbizon Hotel.
My Giffuni Brothers stint introduced m e to Manhattan
real estate. I wore m y purple outfit eight day s a week and
probably said, "Good m orning, Giffuni Brothers" eight
hundred tim es a day . But after a few m onths of "Good
m orning, Giffuni Brothers," I eagerly gav e Ray m y "no
ov erhead" spiel about running at a profit by the second
Sunday of ev ery m onth, and he gav e m e the $1 ,000 to
start a real estate com pany . We becam e partners and
nam ed it Corcoran-Sim one. My old boss, Joseph Giffuni,
said if I could find a tenant for one of his apartm ents, he'd
pay m e a whole m onth's
rent as a com m ission. He showed m e the list of
apartm ents they had for rent, and I picked Apartm ent
3 K, the cheapest one-bedroom on the list.
I created m y m akeshift Corcoran-Sim one office on the
sofa one of m y room m ates had borrowed from her
parents. My newly installed pink Princess phone sat silent
on the double-tiered m ahogany end table, as I stared
bleary -ey ed at the Sunday New York Tim es classified
section. According to m y count, there were exactly 1 ,2 4 6
one-bedroom apartm ents adv ertised. The ads were fiv e or

six lines long and the apartm ents were all priced between
$3 2 0 and $3 80 a m onth. I noticed the best ads am ong the
lot were the splashy ones with the bigger, bolder
headlines like: "FABULOUS 3 !" "RIV VU 1 BR." "TRIPLE
MINT!!!" followed by a long list of superlativ es.
I worked out the num bers on m y steno pad, and
realized that the big ads were a lot bigger than m y
budget. I decided to keep m y ad to four lines or less in
order to m ake Ray 's $1 ,000 last a whole m onth. But how,
I wondered, could I m ake m y little ad stand out am ong
the biggies and how was I going to draw som eone's ey e?
Stretching m y neck and looking up from the paper, I
thought about m y job at the Fort Lee Diner. Ah, Gloria!
Now she had a gim m ick. On m y first day at the diner, I
saw Gloria had assets Fd nev er hav e, and that night went
hom e to fret to m y m other: "And when we weren't busy ,
Mom , m y counter was plain em pty . Ev en when Gloria's
station was com pletely filled, m en were still asking to sit
with Gloria and not m e."
"Barbara Ann, y ou'v e got a great personality ," Mom
said, as she balanced Baby Florence on her hip and hung
a sheet on the line. "You're going to hav e to learn to use
what y ou'v e got. Since y ou don't hav e big breasts, why
don't y ou tie som e ribbons on y our pigtails and just be as
sweet as y ou are."
And that's how Ray found m e two y ears later, wearing
ribbons on m y pigtails and offering a cheer fu l alternativ e
to the big-

I m asted, tiny -waisted, blond-bom bshell Fort Lee

sensation. I considered it a personal v ictory when a
custom er walked into the diner and asked to sit with
"Pigtails." The sim ple gim m ick pulled them to m y counter
and m y sweet-talking kept them com ing back.
Sitting alone in m y apartm ent with the New York
T i m es spread open on m y lap, I thought about Mom 's
adv ice for com peting with Gloria's superlativ es, and I
knew I needed an attention-grabber for Apartm ent 3 K.
How . I asked m y self, can I put ribbons on a ty pical onebedroom in four lines or less and m ake it stand out from
the other 1 ,2 4 6 apartm ents!
I took a deep breath and picked up m y pink Princess
phone. "Hello, Mr. Giffuni,'' I began. "I'v e been thinking
about y our one-bedroom on the third floor, and I think I
hav e a way to rent it for twenty dollars m ore each
m onth." I had his attention. I told him how Apartm ent
3 K's liv ing room was like ev ery other liv ing room in
ev ery other apartm ent in ev ery other building in New
York and conv inced him that if he put up a wall
separating the liv ing room from the dining alcov e, he'd
really hav e som ething different! Mr. Giffuni hesitated,
giv ing it som e thought, and then said he'd hav e the wall
installed that week. I phoned m y ad into the paper.
The following Sunday , m y first four-line ad (bold print
counted for two lines) appeared in the New York Tim es:
1 BR + DEN $3 4 0
Barbara Corcoran, 2 1 2 -3 55-3 550

It wasn't a big ad like the others, but it sure offered

som ething m ore. Why would a n y on e settle for a onebedroom , when for the sam e price y ou could get a onebedroom with a den?
That Sunday , the calls began. And on Monday I rented
m y first apartm ent.
Barbara Corcoran
MOM'S LESSON #1 : If y ou don't hav e big breasts, put
ribbons on y our pigtails.
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT USING WHAT
YOU'VE GOT
I didn't hav e a big chest, but I did hav e a nice
personality , a great sm ile, and the gift of gab. All I needed
was m y m other's cue to begin using them to m y
adv antage. That was m y first lesson in sales.
Although the apartm ent I adv ertised wasn't any
bigger than the hundreds of others adv ertised that
Sunday , m y ad caught attention because it offered
som ething extraone m ore room . My "1 BR + DEN" ad
enabled the custom er to focus on the per ceiv ed benefit of
m ore space, and the ov erwhelm ing response to the ad
gav e m e a lot m ore bang for m y adv ertising buck.
Good salesm anship is nothing m ore than m axim izing
the positiv e and m inim izing the negativ e. Although y our
com petition m ight offer som ething y ou can't m atch, that
doesn't m atter. What m atters is that y ou identify and
play up what y ou'v e got.
1 9 59 . Edge water, New Jersey .

One Monday night, Dad cam e to the dinner table and

announced, "I'm happy to tell y ou kids that today I quit
m y job, and I'm starting m y ow n business!" Dad looked
really excited. "I won't be working for Mr. Stein as his
press forem an any m ore !" he continued. "And I'm nam ing
m y com pany Tre-Press Preparations.' "
We all listened as Dad laid out his business plan, ten
wide-ey ed kids and one v ery wide-ey ed m other.
"From now on I'll be known as c Edwin W. Corcoran,
t h e pr esident of Pre-Press Preparations,'" Dad continued.
"And I'll also be the com pany 's one-m an sales force, but I'll
use a pseudo-nam e for calling m y custom ers." Ellen asked
what a "sudo-nam e" was, and Dad dem onstrated with a
would-be sales call: "Hello there. This is Paul Peterson of
Pre-Press Preparations calling. ..." I could see red blotches
begin to form in the V of Mom 's blue housedress, a wellknown warning signal in our house.
Dad explained how his new com pany would design and
m ake cardboard boxes. He picked up the Mueller Dairies
m ilk carton from the table, and said, "For instance, if Mr.
Mueller hired m e, I would decide how big his carton
should be, I'd pick the colors, and I'd ev en draw the cows!
I'd also find the right factory to m ake the cartons. Yep, I'd
do it all!"
Within the week, Paul Peterson sold his first client on a
job to design a belt buckle box, and President Edwin W.
Corcoran asked m y brother Tom m y and m e to sit at his
new drafting table and draw buckle designs with his new

black Enco drafting pen. We drew six different belt

buckles, Dad cut them out, rubber-cem ented them onto
his white cardboard box prototy pe, and sent them to
press.
The following week, Dad cam e to the dim ier table and
we bowed our heads as he recited our usual pray er m uch
faster than usual: "Bless us, Our Lord, for these our gifts
which we are about to receiv e from thy bouniy through
Christ Our Lord. Am en."
"Am en!" we agreed, and raised our heads to find Dad
m ajestically holding up a sm all blue paper in both hands,
the sam e way Father Galloway held his golden chalice on
Sunday s. Then, with great fanfare, Dad passed the blue
paper around the table.
Each of us stared in awe at what appeared to be a
check with a lot of zeros following the num ber 1 . It was
Marty Joe who figured it out first.
"Why , it's a thousand dollarsV" he said.
"Yup! That's right, kids!" Dad proclaim ed. "We're RICH\
And we're GOING ON VACATION. !!"
The next m orning, m y m other packed ten kids, ten
bathing suits, and ten tuna fish on Wonder Breads into
our blue station wagon, and we headed to Asbury Park.
Our fam ily had nev er stay ed in a real hotel, and our stay
at the Brighton Beach Hotel prov ed to be the m ost
exciting week of our entire childhood.
One m onth later, Paul Peterson had been let go, Edwin
W. Corcoran was out of business, and we were eating on

credit at Bubsv 's Grocerv Store.

I looked down at m y first com m ission check and
pondered, Should I take the m oney and splurge on a new
coat, or shouldn 9 t IP Rem em bering that m y dad's first
check as his own boss had been his last and that it had
taken him ten m onths to find a new job as a press
forem an, I decided I'd better not. I stuffed the check and
the apartm ent list in m y bag, and headed up the three
blocks to m y apartm ent.
As I walked through the lobby , the building's super
was perched at his usual post next to the m ailboxes. "Good
m orning, Mr. O'Rourke," I chirped as I breezed past the
potbellied, red-faced, nosy Irishm an. Seeing him alway s
m ade m e think that he m ust be related to Maggie O'Shay
from Edgewater. Mr. O'Rourke rightfully boasted of
running "the cleanest building in all New York," just as
Mrs. O'Shay claim ed to "keep the cleanest house in
Edgewater."
1 9 57 . Edge water.
Although there wasn't a garden club in Edgewater,
Mrs. O'Shay acted as its self-appointed president. She
paced up and down Under-cliff Av enue inspecting each
house while doling out her neighbors' secrets as though
they were hers to giv e.
Mrs. O'Shay watched with raised ey ebrows as m y
m other tried tim e and again to spruce up our y ard, and
tim e and tim e again m et only with failure. One spring,
Mom laboriously stacked the y ard's rocks to form a

retaining wall, only to find it slowly eroding when we

kids used the larger rocks as roast beefs in our pretend
grocery store.
Next, she planted grass, only to learn grass doesn't
grow v ery well on a rock-strewn hill shaded by a giant
oak tree. The following spring, Mom dug thirty -six holes
to plant a gladiolus garden. She dusted the bulbs with
bonem eal and placed each one carefully in its nest. The
next m orning, the gladiolus bulbs lay waiting by their
holes as though they had nev er been planted. After Mom 's
roll call y ielded nothing but frustrating Not m e's, Prince,
our collie-wolf-Chihuahua m ix, was found guilty of
digging for bones.
With stubborn determ ination, m y m other dug thirty six new holes and spent all of June watering, weeding,
and waiting. Finally , one hot day in July , the green
stalks began to unfurl their hot-pink, y ellow, and bright
orange petals. It was the sam e day Mom cam e hom e from
the hospital with our new baby sister, Jeanine. Tim m y
Tom , the skinny fiv e-y ear-old Harrison kid, stood at our
kitchen screen door with a huge bouquet of nearly opened
gladiolus. "These are for y ou and y our new baby , Mrs.
Corcoran," he said as he handed m y m other the three
m onths of work he had plucked from her y ard.
Tim m y Tom 's flower deliv ery sent m y m other right
ov er the edge and down to the Edgewater hardware store.
She cam e hom e with a gallon of Sherwin-William s paint
and a new idea. She got out her y ellow Fuller scrub brush

and a bucket of water and called us into the side y ard. We

spent the afternoon scrubbing the roast-beef-size
rocks, while Mom followed behind us with her can of
sem igloss white. That night, we all pressed our faces to
the side y ard window to adm ire our rocks. They glistened
brighter than our backy ard fireflies.
The next m orning, during her usual inspection up and
down Un-dercliff Av enue, Mrs. O'Shay screeched to a halt
in front of our house. "Oh! What a lov ely y ard y ou hav e,
Mrs. Corcoran!" she exclaim ed, adm iring the ordinary
rocks turned extraordinary . "What a truly lov ely y ard!"
My m other sm iled and wav ed proudly from the front
steps, and a Corcoran tradition was born. Each spring
thereafter, Mom would gather her children, her can of
sem igloss white, and her Fuller scrub brush, and wed
spend the day swabbing a fresh coat of paint on the rocks
in our truly lov ely y ard.
I stepped into m y apartm ent and thought about the
Giffuni Brothers* check burning a hole in m y purse.
Should I buy a new coat or shouldn f t IF I looked down at
m y lav ender Georgy Girl outfit; it had walked down the
street so m any tim es it no longer looked fancy free.
Should I or shouldn't IF Well, I decided, if Mom could cov er
her old rocks with a coat of white paint, I could certainly
cov er m y old outfit with a new coat!
I high-tailed it down to First National City Bank on
Fifty -sev enth and Park, cashed m y Giffuni Brothers
check, m ade a beeline to Fifth Av enue, and m arched

straight through the grand stone archway of Bergdorf

Goodm an. I was going to buy m y self the best coat in the
best store on the best block in all New York!
J asked the red suited doorm an where I could find
ladies' coats and took the gold-paneled elev ator to the
second floor. The elev ator dinged open, and I tripped into
a full city block of coats. A well-clad, m atronly
saleswom an offered her help, but I was too intim idated to
accept her offer and thought of a really original response:
"No, thanks, Fm just looking." I puffed up m y chest and
dov e into the sea of coats.
Suddenly , I spotted her from across the room . She was
the flashiest one in the whole place. There was nothing
plain about her. She had curly brown-and-white fur
around a high m andarin collar and a pair of m atching
cuffs. Her wool was thick, laid in an ov ersized brown-andwhite herringbone pattern. Down her front she had at
least a dozen diam ond-shaped buttons chiseled out of what
looked like bone. Each bone button hooked through its
own handm ade loop. Her huge shoulder pads rode high
and her hem swung low, alm ost touching the polished
wood floor. Ev ery thing about her scream ed, "HERE I AM!"
And for $3 1 9 plus tax, she was m ine.
My new coat becam e m y signature piece and I nev er
took it off. In it, I not only looked successful, I also felt
successful. My curious custom ers asked m e what kind of
fur it was, and since Fd nev er spoken to the saleslady , I
had no idea. "It looks a lot like m y old dog, Prince," Fd joke.

For the next two y ears, I m arched in and out of buildings

up and down Manhattan wearing m y expensiv e coat and
new im age for all they were worth.
MOM'S LESSON #8: Paint the rocks white and the
whole y ard will look lov ely .
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT DRESSING THE PART
In business, Fv e learned that people really do judge a
book by its cov er. When m y m other painted her rocks
white, ev ery one bought into the fact that our y ard was
indeed beautiful. And Fv e applied the sam e principle in
m y business tim e and again.
By dressing the part of som eone successful. I was forced
to m easure up to m y own new im age. Whether or not m y
custom ers agreed with m y taste, at least I looked
successful enough to afford a Bergdorf coat. In it. I felt
ready to take on the world. And so I did.
In business. 1 believ e the best m oney spent is on things
that create the im age of success. I copied the ty peface of
the fam ous Tiffany store to m ake m y first business cards
and chose a grav ink (no extra charge) instead of the
usual black. I rented a pink Princess Trim line phone (one
dollar extra per m onth) because when I picked up the
phone, it m ade m e feel just like a big business lady . When
m y Georgy Girl pants got too tired of walking, I slit the
seam s, used them as a pattern, and m ade m y self three
new pairs of well-cut gabardine trousers (six y ards of
fabric only forty dollars).
Decked out in m y fancy new coat and m y French-cut

trousers, I offered m y custom ers an elegant business card,

feeling like the queen of New York real estate.
Painting the rocks white was m y first introduction to
the surprising truth that perception creates reality . Most
people think its the other wav around.
". . . legal action shall be com m enced to eric/ y ou?"" I
reread aloud. "Ev ict m e?" I stam m ered into the elev ator,
clutching the notice in m y hand. I went downstairs and
found Mr. O'Rourke nexl to the m ailboxes. "Mr. O'Rourke.
7 * I sputtered. "I just found this notice under m y door
and it doesn't m ake any sense! I know m y rent is paid! I
alway s collect it from Jackie and Sandi and send the
checks in m y self before the first of the m onth. Fm nev er
late. Is this som e kind of m istake?" I waited for his
response, clutching the notice ev en tighter.
"You'll best be talkin' to the landlord,"* was all Mr.
O'Rourke would sav .
I arriv ed at 9 :3 0 a.m . and walked into the white brick
office building at 7 7 0 Lexington Av enue. A dusty and
elderly secretary reluctantly showed m e into m y
landlord's office. It was decorated in a m ix of red v elv et
and the darkest, shiniest wood I had ev er seen. Mr.
Cam pagna was y oung and shockingly handsom e, and I
watched him take note of m y im pressiv e coat. He offered
to take it. I was nerv ous and felt stronger in m y power
coat, so I said that I was cold and I'd prefer to leav e it on.
He offered m e a seat.
I sank into the red leather chair and started

im m ediately : "I'm sure there m ust be som e m istake, Mr.

Cam pagna, because I receiv ed this ev iction notice and I
kn ow m y rent is paid. You see, I alway s collect the rent
from m y two room m ates by the twenty -fifth of ev ery
m onth and enclose their two checks with m ine in the rent
env elope and m ail it nev er a day later than the twenty sixth of the m onth. It m ust arriv e at y our office on either
the twenty -sev enth or twenty -eighth, Fm sure nev er
later than the twenty -eighth.'* He sat tapping a pen on
his black leather desk pad, returning absolutely no
expression, so I kept talking. "Mr. Cam pagna, we nev er
play loud m usic, and nev er ev er leav e food around. We'v e
nev er had roachesnot ev en one."
Mr. Cam pagna shifted slightly in his chair, but still
said nothing, and I felt I was wrestling with air.
I talked faster. "I'v e nev er, ev er done any thing wrong
in m y life, and would consider m y self a fine tenant in
ev ery way . I'm proud to be a tenant in y our v ery fine
building, Mr. Cam pagna." No reaction. "Mr. ORourke tells
m e y ou and y our fine wife and y our two fine sons also liv e
in y our v ery fine building." As I stum bled through these
last fine words, I realized m y m andarin fur collar had
ov ertaken m y nose and was interfering with m y speech. I
took a quick look left, then right, and saw that m y
shoulder pads had been inching up and were now lev el
with m y ears. Mr. Cam pagna sat quietly , staring at a
fast-talking blond tuft of hair and two desperate blue
ey es.

Finally , he spoke. "You hav e had a lot of traffic com ing

in and out of y our apartm ent, Miss Corcoran, both during
the day and ev ening hours." I agreed that I had a lot of
custom ers, and said that m y business relied on word of
m outh. I added that I was new at it and hoped to hav e a
lot m ore custom ers in the future. He looked shocked,
shocked to the point of horror.
"You're dressed rather sophisticated for such a y oung
girl," he said, exam ining the bone buttons of m y coat and
fidgeting with his pen.
And then it hit m e.
"Mr. Cam pagna!" I exclaim ed, m y m outh wide open in
disbelief. "You. Think. I'm . A PROSTITUTE?!"
He said nothing.
"If y ou knew m y m other and knew how I was raised," I
told him . "Why , Mr. Cam pagna, I'm alm ost a nun!"
Dinnertim e. Edge water.
Dinner at our house was an ev entan ev ent we were
required to attend. Daily at six o'clock sharp, we gathered
around the ply wood-cov ered table, which grew larger
with ev ery new child, and took our usual seats. I sat at
the foot of the table near the bathroom , though I thought
of it as the head. Mom was to m y left and between us was
Jeanine's high chair.
Tonight, like ev ery night. Mom went around the table
asking each child. "And how was y our day today ?" Mom
alway s circled the table clockwise, starting with Ellen
and ending with m e.

"And how was y ou r day today ?" Mom asked Denise,

who was sulking ov er her dinner. "You look worried. Is
there any thing wrong?"
"Nothing," she answered.
Nothing was not an answer at m y m other's table. We
all stared at Denise, knowing Mom wasn't m ov ing on
until Denise reported som ething about her day . "My new
boy friend is com ing to the house later tonight," Denise
blurted.
"Why , that's lov ely ," Mom responded. "Will he be
com ing soon? We certainly hav e enough spaghetti for
him . What's the boy 's nam e?"
"Bruce," Denise declared. "And he's rich and he's going
to see that we're not."
We all slurped our spaghetti in silence.
"He's going to com e and see our house," Denise kept on,
"and see that we're poorsee that all of us kids sleep in two
bedroom s and y ou and Dad sleep on the liv ing room sofa.
And that the sofa is all torn"
"Stop it! Stop it right there, Denise!" Mom dem anded,
as she spoon-fed Baby Florence. "/ won't hav e any of that
talk around this table. We're not poor at all. In fact,
/think we're rich. It's all in how y ou look at things. Nana
say s that if life giv es y ou lem ons, m ake lem onade. And
we'v e got lots of lem onade around here!"
"Lem onade?" Denise sniffled, as the rest of us finished
our dinners.
"Yes, lem onade," Mom confirm ed, looking around the

table. "Are any of v ou ev er hungry ?" We all shook our

heads no. "And don't y ou hav e good clothes on y our back?"
We all looked down, not sure.
"Well"Mom sm iled"y ou don't walk around naked, do
y ou?"
"Barbara does in the back of Charlie's boat," Ellen
chim ed in.
Do not."
"Do too."
"What m atters," Mom interrupted, "is that if y ou look
at what we'v e got, I say we'v e got a lot. We hav e each
other. We laugh together, play together, help each other.
We're rich."
"But, Mom ? Denise cried as if it were her one and only
chance for a boy friend in her whole life, "Bruce is really
good-looking and he dresses real nice. He's going to walk
in and see all the tape holding our sofas together."
Then Mom 's face lit up with the birth of an idea. "After
dinner," she announced, "we're all m aking lem onade. Let's
finish up, Ellen and Eddie clear the table, and ev ery one
report to the liv ing room ."
We gulped our dinner down and quickly finished our
after-dinner duties, eager to see how Mom would m ake
lem onade in the liv ing room . "Som etim es," Mom
instructed as she strategically sat each of her children on
and in front of the two sofas, hiding the duct-taped rips,
"things are better than they seem . All y ou hav e to do is
see them that way ! So, see us as RICH and don't m ov e!

Don't m ov e a m uscle." Our arm s and our legs were

crisscrossed ov er one another in a hom espun gam e of
Twister. The laughter becam e contagious. Mom had
turned our ripped sofa into a giggling work of art.
When Denise welcom ed her boy friend Bruce into our
liv ing room , he didn't notice the rips on the sofas because
they didn't m atter. What he saw instead was a fam ily
that he instantly liked. A fam ily rich with the
excitem ent of being a fam ily .
Mom was rights I thought, looking at the reflection of
m y furry coat in the polished m ahogany of Mr.
Cam pagna's desk. It's all in how y ou look at things.
"Mr. Cam pagna!" I stated clearly . "I'm not a prostitute,
I'm a real estate broker] "
Mr. Cam pagna put down his pen and hinted at a
sm ile. "Well, then, Miss Corcoran," he said, "why don't y ou
just tell m e how y ou're finding the real estate m arket?" I
thought he m ight be testing
m e, so I told him about the success I was hav ing at Mr.
Giffuni's building just three blocks away from his
building. It was, of course, the only success I knew. When
I told him I had gotten Mr. Giffuni $3 4 0 for his third-floor
one-bedroom (not m entioning m y wall idea), he seem ed
ev en m ore shocked than if I had been a prostitute.
I asked Mr. Cam pagna who rented h i s apartm ents,
and he m ade it quite clear that "Mr. Herbert Cram er has
alway s been the ex clu siv e agent for a l l the Cam pagna
Properties." After he explained to m e what an exclusiv e

was and that it had a "guaranteed com m ission upon

closing,*' I decided I had better try to get a few of those.
"Mr. Cam pagna," I asked, "if Mr. Cram er rents all y our
properties, why are there so m any apartm ents v acant in
y our building?" He didn't seem to hav e an answer, so I
suggested he giv e m e just one of those apartm ents to rent.
Then, not wanting to appear too pushy , I added, "The one
Mr. Cram er likes the least."
Apartm ent 3 C was next door to the superintendent's
apartm ent and had been v acant for a long tim e. It had a
narrow galley kitchen, and a long, straight liv ing room ,
with no hopes of ev er hav ing a den. Apartm ent 3 C faced
the back and nev er saw the light of day . The building at
Eighty -sixth Street and First Av enue was in the wrong
location. It was just one block too east and just one block
too west, and the Gristede's grocery store directly across
the street had tons of garbage stacked outside.
I arranged to m eet m y custom ers two blocks away on
tony East End Av enue so I could begin each showing by
adm iring the wonderful prewar buildings that lined that
av enue. "We're walking toward Fifth Av enue," I'd sav as
we crossed First Av enue on East Eighty -sixth Street. I'd
gesture toward the Gristede's grocery store "so
conv eniently located right across the street," and then
whirl us through the rev oking doors into Mr. ORourkes
"m eticulously kept lobby ." There I'd find Mr. (TRourke
(m y new best salesm an) proudly standing next to the
m ailboxes, and I'd introduce him to our prospectiv e

tenants.
He'd turn on his Irish charm and proudly tour them
through his spotless serv ice areas and stairwells. Fd
thank Mr. O'Rourke and ride m y custom ers up in the
elev ator, rem arking that "the owner is so proud of this
building that he m ov ed his own fam ily in."
Once m y custom ers saw all the good things Mr.
Cam pagna's building had to offer, they were writing their
checks before I ev en turned the key of Apartm ent 3 C,
Apartm ent 7 F, Apartm ent 2 1 A. . . .
That's how it cam e to be that Mr. Herbert Cram er no
longer held the exclusiv e on Mr. Cam pagna's building.
MOM'S LESSON #3 : If the sofa is ripped, cov er it with
laughter.
THE LESSON LEARNED
ABOUT FINDING THE GOOD
IN SOMETHING BAD
When Denise whined about the torn sofa, m y m other
was sav v y enough to see the liability as an opportunity
and used it to teach us how truly rich we were.
If I hadn't alm ost been ev icted as a prostitute, I
wouldn't hav e had the opportunity to m eet m y landlord,
ask for his listings, and leav e with a new apartm ent to
rent. The ev iction notice and its happy ending taught m e
that opportunity hides in the worst situations, when the
tim ing's not right, and when ev ery one else agrees that
the only prudent m ov e is to lie low. Finding opportunity
is a m atter of believ ing it's there.

unbiased ey e, so today we'll not discuss prices." I said a

quick pray er that the New York Tim es classifieds would
at least giv e m e a handle on what apartm ents were
selling for. "Once y ouVe seen what's out there, we'll find a
quiet place to sit, and y ou can ask whatev er questions
y ou m ight still hav e. If we're lucky , we'll hav e tim e to
squeeze in a bite to eat." I'd walk him to the Yorkv ille
Diner and order the m ade-from -scratch souv laki special, I
figured, which should swallow another hour to an hour
and a half. If m y m ath was correct, I would drop him
back at the Drake around four, too late in the day for him
to take off with another broker.
"Tom orrow," I continued, "we'll start out bright and
early and look at ev ery apartm ent for sale in the
neighborhoods y ou'v e selected. I'm sure y ou'll find that
after today 's tour, y ou will see them with a v ery
different, m ore knowledgeable ey e."
I had him in a New York m inute. He nodded in
dum bfounded agreem ent.
My buy er nev er doubted that I knew what I was
talking about because although I didn't know the sales
m arket, I knew how to fill in the blanks. It was a talent
Mom taught m e to recognize one night after dinner in
second grade, the day Sister Stella Marie told m e I was
stupid.
Second grade. Edgewater.
The night Sister Stella Marie ruined m y day , I was
painfully quiet, while Mom rounded the table asking her

usual "And how was y our day ?" question. Jum p Johnny
Jum p announced that there was a new "cool" kid in the
neighborhood and Tippy Toe Tom m y reported that he
had found a pair of high heels in the Mertzes' trash. When
Mom got around to m e, m y ey es dropped to the turquoise
tablecloth. "It was f-f-fine," I swallowed, not willing to tell
m y day 's far-from -fine adv enture. That day after school,
following the instructions of Sister Ann Teresa, I had
walked down the hall to m y old first-grade classroom at
the Holy Rosary School, the classroom ruled by m ean
Sister Stella Marie. Not sure why I should be going back to
the first-grade classroom , I hesitantly pushed against the
red m etal door. It opened into a scene from a childhood
horror film . The only other children in the room were
Ellen Mulv aney (not her real nam e), known as "the
retarded girl," and Rudy Valentino (really his nam e, but
no relation to the Rudolph Valentino of silent screen fam e.
Rudy liv ed in West New York, New Jersey , and spoke not
a word of English). I looked at Ellen, then at Rudy , and
m y happy world screeched to a halt louder than
fingernails on a blackboard. Oh no, I thought, I'v e been
found out!
Sister Stella Marie pointed with her ruler to the desk
between Ellen and Rudy . It was the sam e green ruler she
had used to whack m y neck in first grade when I couldn't
figure out the answer to an arithm etic problem at the
blackboard. I put m y books on the m etal rack under the
seat and sat down. She pulled at her starched white

collar, buried her hands into her draping black sleev es,
and glowered: "You children can't read. And Fm going to
teach y ou how."
While Sister read from the first-grade Dick and Jane
reader, m y m ind im m ediately wandered down the hall
and out of the building. Mr. Colontoni, our m ilkm an (we
called him "Fat Ray Joe Potty Macaroni Colontoni"), had
giv en m e an em pty m ilk bottle that m orning, and I had
the bottle and a ball of y arn in the basket of m y blue bike.
I was going to the Hudson Riv er to catch a big fish. (Well,
okay , a silv er guppy . But m agnified in the bottle, it
would look like a big fish.) I was going to put it in a glass
bowl, hide it under Ellen's bed, and keep it as a pet.
"Well, Barbara Ann?" Sister Stella Marie interrupted
m y day dream . "Can y ou read the next page, please?'
Not wanting to adm it I didn't know what page she was
on, I told her, "No." Sister leaned ov er, close enough for m e
to see the black hairs twitching on her chin. "Barbara
Ann. if y ou don't pay attention," she scowled, "y ou'll
alway s be stupid."
I sucked in m y breath, counted to a hundred, and
concentrated hard so the tears burning m y ey es wouldn't
leak out. After class, I
cried m y way back to our house on Undercliff Av enue,
ran up to the woods, and sat on m y big rock by the
stream . I just knew I would nev er learn to read. Ev ery
tim e I guessed, I was wrong. And when I knew I was right,
I was wrong. It wasn't that I wanted to day dream ; it just

alway s happened. I couldn't understand the words unless

they were read to m e: b alway s looked like d, p looked like
g, and e just looked weird. When I tried to read, m y brain
was like our Christm as-tree lights that went out when
one of the bulbs went bad.
I stifled m y tears in tim e for dinner, not wanting
any one to know that Sister Stella Marie thought I was
stupid. How could I be? I was the fam ily entertainer, I
created the gam es, and I was the director of all our
basem ent Broadway shows! I had to be brilliant! I couldn't
be stupid. Could I?
After the table was cleared, m y m om asked m e to stay
with her in the kitchen. "I got a call today from Sister
Stella Marie, Barbara Ann," she told m e while sweeping
the floor. "She said y ou're hav ing trouble reading." I said
nothing, but m y ey es welled with tears. Mom put down
the broom , held m y shoulders with both hands, and
looked lov ingly into m y ey es. "Barbara Ann," she said
encouragingly , "don't y ou worry about it. You hav e a
wonderful im agination. And with it, y ou can fill in any
blanks. "
She sm iled and picked up her broom .
I knew I had to use m y im agination to fill in the blanks
with m y custom er the next day . Com bing through the
Tim es that ev ening in the new apartm ent I shared with
Ray , I realized that the New York m arket was changing. I
had been so busy hustling rentals ov er the last two y ears,
I hadn't noticed that the "For Sale" section of the paper

had grown larger than the "Rental" section. Ov er half the

classifieds form erly "For Rent" were now being offered "For
Sale."
The whole town seem ed to be going co-op. The city 's
longstanding rent control laws had slowly strangled
landlords' profits, pushing them to find a new way to
m ake m oney . The answer was an
"only in New York" harebrained schem e of selling
apartm ents on a cooperativ e basis. This m eant that the
buy ers of co-ops didn't own their apartm ents outright, as
with condom inium s. Instead, they owned shares in the
building. Condos were the norm ev ery where else in the
world; New York just had to be different.
I picked up m y phone and called the first two-bedroom
apartm ent that was adv ertised by its ownera RIV VU, 2
BR on Sutton Placeand began what would becom e m y
standard sales pitch:
"Hello, this is Barbara Corcoran of Corcoran-Sim one
Real Estate. I'm working with a wonderful y oung
engineer from Union Carbide who has been transferred to
New York. He's in town for only one day and needs to buy
an apartm ent tom orrow at the latest. He s asked m e for
an apartm ent with ..." Then I read the seller the detailed
description from his own ad, and he responded that his
apartm ent sounded "just like that!"
"I know this m ight be a terrible im position," I talked
on, "but could I possibly show m y custom er y our
apartm ent at either nine-fifteen or nine-thirty tom orrow

m orning?"
After the seller agreed to the appointm ent, I bubbled
him with thank-y ou's and ended the conv ersation with
what would soon becom e m y "Oh-and-by -the-way -justone-m ore-question" Colum bo close: a few last-second
queries guaranteed to ferret out just how negotiable the
price really was.
"Oh and by the way ," I quickly asked the now excited
seller, "hav e y ou had m anv offers on y our apartm ent?
Well, has it been on the m arket v ery long? Oh, really ?
Where will y ou be m ov ing to? Oh, congratulations! When
are y ou expecting to close? Wonderful! I really look
forward to seeing y ou tom orrow at nine-fifteen." If the
apartm ent turned out to be what m y custom er was
actually looking for, I knew I was arm ed to close.
By the tim e I finished com bing the paper that night
and working m y sales pitch, I had twelv e appointm ents
set. Four were with non-negotiable sellers, six with folks
who would take som ething less than their price, and two
with gotta-get-outta-herr-fast sellers.
God was m y cobroker when m y custom er and I walked
into the lobby of a twenty -story prewar on East Eighty fourth Street. Apartm ent 9 K was our eighth apartm ent of
the day , and as we walked past the doorm an, m y
custom er beam ed, "My boss just bought in this building!"
When I found out his boss was liv ing three floors below
Apartm ent 9 K, all the rest, as they say , was a piece of
cake. The liv ing room was the sam e cocoa brown as m y

custom er's liv ing room in St. Louis, and the seller's boxes
were packed by the door ready to go.
By the tim e I dropped m y custom er at the Drake it was
four o'clock. His flight was at sev en. I circled back to the
Hay m an and Sum ner stationery store, picked up a
standard Blum berg sales contract, and rushed back to the
tiny office Ray and I had taken in a building on East
Sixtieth Street. I pecked out the needed inform ation on
m y new IBM Selectric and circled back to the Drake. My
custom er was waiting. We jum ped in a cab and headed to
LaGuardia Airport.
The cab had reached the airport exit when m y
custom er looked up from the contract and asked the
question that bedev ils ev ery real estate broker in New
York:
"Just what is a co-op any way ?"
"It's what m akes New York so special," I began, nev er
hav ing explained these details and hav ing no idea how I
would. "You'll be a sharecropperI m ean shareholder.
That m eans the apartm ent is y ours, but y ou don't really
own it." His ey ebrow cocked slightly . "Well, y ou own it,
but y ou don't get a c deed.' Instead, y ou get a 'lease.' But
the great thing about a co-op lease is that there's
absolutely no rent, just a m onthly m aintenance fee,
which cov ers all the salaries of the super and the
doorm en. And the great thing about that is with a few
hundred dollars at Christm as, they 'll fix any thing.
"And then there's the co-op's board of directors," I

talked on, "a group of y our neighbors whose job is to

protect y ou." His ey ebrow
relaxed. "They decide what y ou can and can't do, can
and can i change, and who y on can and can't sell to
because that's wliat ihey 're not paid to do. If y ou want to
put in a dishwasher, they 'll m ake sure it'll work by
hav ing the building's engineer rev iew the plans y our
architect subm its. He'll bill y ou by the hour and tell y ou
that y ou can't do it." His ey ebrow clim bed back up his
forehead. "But don't worry . As y our boss probably knows
already , y ou can pay the super to sneak it in. just m ake
sure it's in a box that doesn't say dishwasher.'''
I could tell by the look on his face I needed to
backpedal. In short, a co-op is a one-of-a-kind thing and
when y ou decide to sell the apartm ent, y ou hav e the
right to sell it to whom ev er y ou want as long as all y our
neighbors like the person y ou want to sell it to. Your
buy er, just like y ou do, will hav e to subm it a list of all his
personal assets, liabilities, and incom e. And six full copies
of his last two y ears' tax returns. You hav e all those
things, right?"
His ev es glazed ov er. I passed him a pen.
"Sign here."
MOM'S LESSON #4 : Use y our im agination to fill in the
blanks.
4 fc
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT UNDERLINING THE
POSITIVE

When I started m y business, I saw m y self as the iC

Queen of New York Real Estate." I pictured m y self in great
detail including the clotho I'd wear to address an audience
of thousands of people eager to hear m y expert adv ice. I
im agined a long line of people waiting to kiss m y
ring, just as I had seen them kissing the pope's ring on
TV. Although I nev er had an official business plan, m y
im agination prov ided a cry stal-clear picture of where I
wanted to go.
As a kid, I was m ade to feel like an outsider because I
was different. In business, Fv e becom e known as an
innov a tor beca u se of that difference. What Sister Stella
Marie called "stupid," I would later discov er was
"dy slexic." Fv e since learned that children who struggle
with written inform ation and facts alm ost alway s hav e
great im aginations. They can see the big picture, think
outside the box, and with just a little encouragem ent, can
learn to use their fertile im aginations to fill in the blanks.
Although Fm still a painfully slow reader, I can read a
person, size up a situation, and inv ent a new idea quicker
than a wink.
My m other was wise enough to identify m y special gift
of creativ ity and underline it. In doing so, she turned m y
"stupidity " into m y greatest strength. Fv e succeeded
because of m y learning difference, not despite it.
pearls from their original strand, washed them in a
sm all bowl filled with soapy water, and rolled them dry
on the towel. Next, I laid out the pearls in size order, the

biggest in the m iddle, the sm allest at the ends, and

threaded each pearl on a white silk string using a thin
wire needle. I tied a knot tightly and ev enly against each
pearl, locking it into place, until I com pleted a perfect
strand.
One night while stringing, Vicki told m e that Ray had
taken the nam e of her third husband, Mr. Sim on.
"Sim on?" I asked, an errant pearl hitting her linoleum
with a tink. "I thought it was 'Sim one.' "
"Oh no, his nam e was 'Sim on.' He was from 1 85th
Street and Am sterdam Av enue."
A few m onths later, Ray 's m om gav e her son a second
chance as a dev eloper by letting him put a second
m ortgage on her v intage colonial on Main Street.
When Ray got back on his feet, his two oldest
daughters cam e to liv e with us. We m ov ed out of Vicki's
house in Hackensack and into a new high-rise apartm ent
in Fort Lee, not far from the Fort Lee Diner. Each
m orning, I drov e across the George Washington Bridge
into Manhattan and each night I returned hom e in tim e
to m ake dinner.
In m y awkward new role as stepm om , I regularly sat
at the dining room table helping Ray s daughters with
their hom ework. His elev en-y ear-old, Laura, was hav ing
trouble reading, so I recounted the story of Sister Stella
Marie and tried to do what m y m om had done for m e.
"Laura, don't worry about it," I told her. "You're a v ery
hard worker, and that will get y ou through alm ost

any thing. Besides, y ou're so good with the big words, I bet
one day y ou'll be a doctor!" Seeing her face light up m ade
the m any nights of doing hom ework worthwhile.
Ray rarely cam e into the Corcoran-Sim one office
any m ore, other than to sign checks. He was working late
m ore frequently , often m eeting with his carpenters,
plum bers, and electricians. But he alway s got hom e in
tim e to kiss the girls good-night. One Tuesday , Ray
cam e hom e unusually early , at 6 :3 0. I was in the
kitchen pulling the spaghetti off the stov e.
"I hav e som ething I need to speak with y ou about," he
told m e seriously .
"Surer I said, dum ping the spaghetti into the colander.
"I'm going to m arry Tina." My hands went lim p, and I
sloshed the spaghetti into the sink.
"Tina? Tina, m y secr eta r y ?" I stam m ered. "I-I don't
understand."
He shifted his weight and put his hands in his pockets.
"I guess y ou should start looking for an apartm ent or
som ething," he continued. "But take y our tim e."
"It'll take fiv e m inutes" was all I could m uster.
The next m orning, I couldn't lift m y head, and m y feet
couldn't m ake it onto the sm all rug beside m y friend
Catherine's sofa. I was too proud to call m y m om and tell
her she'd been right all along. For the first tim e in m y
life, I called in sick.
I questioned m y v alue without Ray . I traced ov er the
details of our last y ear together, searching for the signs

that should hav e giv en m e an idea of what was going on. I

was filled with anger. I hated Tina. I hated Ray . But, m ost
of all, I hated m e.
A few day s later, Catherine cam e ov er to the sofa with
her hom e rem edy for puffy ey es. "Now, Barbara, she
began, as I lay m um m ified on her quilted sofa, "today is
the day y ou're going back to work!" She put two soggy tea
bags on rny ey es and m ade a feeble attem pt at a pep talk,
interm ittently spooning m ore warm water on the tea
bags. An hour later, I stum bled to the shower, and for the
first tim e in day s, looked in the m irror. I looked just like a
raccoon.
"Catherine?" I y elped. 'What kind of tea was that?"
There was a long silence in the liv ing room . "Oh m y
God!" she finally y elled back, its Bigelow Blackberry !"
Six coats of May belline Cov erstick and a whole lot of
coaxing later I put on a don t-notice-m e beige outfitbeige
blouse, beige pants, and
beige shoesand walked to m y office on East Fifty eighth Street.
I hesitantly stepped off the elev ator, sucked in a long,
slow breath, and m arched into the sea of fourteen sales
desks and salespeople facing m e at the door. Ev ery one
looked up. I had no idea what they knew, so I sm iled m y
best sm ile and m ade a beeline for m y office. "Good
m orning, Norm a! Hello, Esther!" I wav ed as m y ey es
worked hard to av oid Tina's desk. Then I lost connection
with m y legs, and I tripped no, floppedonto the floor, a

sprawled blur of em barrassed beige.

Of course, Tina got to m e first. "Are y ou okay ,
Barbara?" Ray 's fiancee asked kindly . "You look like y ou
hurt y our knee."
I knew m y m other's red blotches were form ing on m y
chest, and I was grateful for the beige turtleneck. 'Tm
fine," I stam m ered, groping for the contents of m y purse.
"I'm fine!" I grabbed for m y subway tokens and tam pons
as they rolled to the far reaches. "My purse is fine, m y
knee is fine, ev ery thing's just fine\"
A phone rang, prov iding the needed distraction for m e
to lim p into the office I shared with Ray .
"Tina can't work for Corcoran-Sim one any m ore," I
announced to Ray .
"Tina's stay ing," Ray inform ed m e. "Rem em ber,
Barbara, I'm the m ajority partner here, owning fifty -one
percent, and that puts m e in control of this business."
Our rom ance had died a sudden death, but it would be
a long tim e before we broke up the business. Som ehow, I
plowed through the next y ear and a half of entrances and
sm iles just fine, while slowly building the courage to walk
away from Ray for good. One Thursday afternoon, as we
m ade our usual weekly deposit at the bank, it hit m e
now was the tim e.
"Ray ," I said, "I'm going to start m y own com pany ." His
left ey e twitched beneath his blue av iator shades, but he
rem ained calm . "You m ight want to giv e that a little
m ore thought," he suggested.

So I did. Ov ernight. And what I thought was this: /

actually know what I'm doing and I can do it without
him . But how to leav e him gracefully had m e stum ped.
Ly ing in bed that night, I decided to suggest we div ide
our business the way m y m om did her cake.
Sunday night. Edge water.
Mom m ade our fav orite dessert on Sunday nights, a
Duncan Hines Dev il's Food Cake in a rectangular
alum inum pan. After dinner, Mom placed the warm cake
on top of two waffle-weav e dish towels in the m iddle of the
table, and we watched and drooled as she cut it into
twelv e pieces using the flat edge of her spatula. As we
went around the table, each child ey ed and v ied for the
biggest piece.
When there were only two pieces left, it was Eddie's
turn to pick, and he reached for the bigger of the two.
"Eddie!" Mom interrupted. "Let y our sister Ellen go first."
Mom had a rule that when there were two pieces left of
any thing, we had to offer the bigger piece to the other
person. She insisted it m ade our piece taste better.
Ellen, who was toiling away at the dishes in the sink
like the Good Housekeeping Seal com e to life, wiped her
hands, m arched ov er to the table, and picked exactly the
piece Eddie wanted.
"Don't worry , Eddie," Mom rem inded him , "now y ours
will taste ev en better!"
Vv e got to offer Ray the "bigger piece" I concluded. I
turned off the light and went to sleep.

Ray was spending a lot m ore tim e at the office, and

when he arriv ed the next afternoon, I was ready for him .
"There's som ething serious I need to talk to y ou about."
I said as he settled into his black leather chair. "I'v e giv en
things a lot of
thought, Ray , and I a m going to open m y own
business." I waited, but he said nothing. "So, we hav e to
decide how to div ide up the com pany . We'll need to
establish two separate bank accounts and split the
receiv ables and the cash. One of us can keep the office,
but one of us will hav e to m ov e. We'll each need our own
phone num ber." Ray sat silent. "And since we hav e
fourteen salespeople, we can each take sev en. I suggest we
do a football-ty pe draw, and since y ou're the m ajority
shareholder, y ou should get to pick first." Ray seem ed
pleased with the "y ou pick first" term s.
I had already rev iewed the list of salespeople and knew
I needed Esther to help m e m ov e m y business forward.
For m e, Esther was indispensable. I figured if I went first
and picked her, Ray m ight argue for her.
"Okay ," he began. "I'll take Norm a." Norm a was clearly
the big m oney m aker. She was our top-producing
salesperson, and her sales alone accounted for 6 0 percent
of our com pany 's com m issions. And, now, Norm a and her
6 0 percent were Ray 's.
"Okay , then," I said, "I'll take Esther." Esther wasn't our
top m oney m aker, but she was a consistent producer and
had all the traits I needed to build m y new business.

Esther was sm art, organized, and worked twice as hard as

ev ery one else.
We went back and forth until we had div ided up the
rem aining dozen people.
"I'll keep the m ain c 3 55-1 2 00' phone num ber," Ray
declared. Ray alway s said our num ber was a "v ery
im portant num ber" and m ade the com pany sound big.
"Then I'll take the new num ber," I agreed. I knew Ray
would think 3 55-3 550 sounded less im portant, but it was
snappy , and I thought far easier to rem em ber.
"And I'll stay here," Ray concluded, "and y ou 7 / hav e
to m ov e." I nodded. Although it would be expensiv e to
m ov e, I knew it would be a fresh start. The sam e space
was av ailable upstairs with a lot m ore light, and I could
rent it for the sam e am ount of m oney .
We had finished all our business, so I put m y calendar
into m y
shoulder bag and zipped it up. "What will y ou call y our
com pany , Ray ?" I asked, standing near the door.
"Pogue-Sim one, of course!" he bragged. How rom antic,
I thought painfully , but quickly com forted m y self when I
realized that people would hav e a hard tim e spelling or
pronouncing Tina's last nam e any way .
'''-Well, Ray ," I announced, "Fm going to call m y new
com pany 'The Corcoran Group.'' " And as I said it, I knew
it was right.
We shook hands. Ray was obv iously pleased with the
results and was relishing what he v iewed as a clear win

through and through. He got up, walked past m e, and

turned around. "You know, Barb," he said, putting his
hands in his pockets, ''''y ou '1 1 nev er succeed without
m e.'''' And with that, Ram one Sim one strutted away .
I leaned back on m y old desk, the one Ray had just
picked for Tina, and v owed to m y self that I would rather
die than let him see m e fail!
4k
MOM'S LESSON #5: Offer the bigger piece, and y ours
will taste ev en better.
4k
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT PIE-SPLITTING
It took alm ost eighteen m onths for m e to build the
courage to leav e Ram one Sim one, as I still believ ed m y
success depended on him . Once I offered Ray the bigger
piece, it was easier to leav e, because I knew I had been
m ore than fair.
As the m ajority shareholder, Ray was entitled to 51
percent of the m oney . That was obv ious. But I knew that
Ray , if giv en the choice, would reach for the im m ediate
gratification of getting the top-producing salesperson. I
got the longer-term better pick by choosing Esther.
Fv e found that whenev er I offered the other guy the
bigger piece, I got what I wanted and it alway s tasted
better.
Try ing to swallow m y anxiety along with m y
breakfast, I looked back at the door and thought, I just
don't hav e enough tim e, m oney , or help, and in three

day s Pm going to hav e a whole lot of salespeople with a

whole lot of needs, walking right through that door!
For the first tim e in m y life, I felt really alone. I put
m y coffee aside and thought about calling m y m om , but I
didn't. Ev er since I left hom e with Ray against her wishes,
I had been determ ined not to need her any m ore.
I glanced at m y watch. It was 6 :3 0 a .m . Mom would
be beginning her m orning routine about now. I could see
her running through the house putting ev ery thing in
order, and I wished she could be here with m e to whip
ev ery thing into shape. She'd know exactly what to do.
School day . Edgewater.
"Good m orning, ev ery one!" Mom 's v oice boom ed as she
ripped the cov ers from each of our beds. Dazed, I m ade m y
way to the kitchen table, took a cereal bowl from the
stack, and stum bled to the stov e for m y one scoop of hot
Quaker Oats.
"Good m orning, Mom ," I m um bled.
"Good m orning, Barbara Ann," she sm iled back.
I sat down as I alway s did in m y assigned seat next to
the bathroom door, and stirred m ilk and brown sugar
into m y oatm eal as it cooled. My brothers and sisters were
all doing the sam e. At 7 :00 a.m . sharp, with only three
spoonfuls to go, Mom declared breakfast ov er. We had
twenty m inutes to wait in line for the bathroom to brush
our teeth and com b our hair, and then put on the clothes
Mom had placed at the foot of our beds.
"Where's m y socks?" Eddie y elled to no one.

"Where's m y socks?" was a question y ou only asked

once in our house. Ev ery sock in our house was stored in
the two square drawers on the skinny wall between the
bathroom and the stov e. The top
drawer was filled with the girls' white ny lon socks, and
the bottom
with the boy s' nav y eotton socks.
Mom pulled Eddie by his ear in t o the kitchen, opened
the bottom sock drawer, and pointed.
"Socks,"' she pronounced slowly with em phasis, "are
alway s in the sock drawer." She left Eddie rubbing his ear
and darted off to sort the laundry .
My m other had a routine for ev ery thing. When she
sorted the laundry , she started by dum ping it all in the
m iddle of the liv ing room floor. Then she div ided it into
the "white pile" and the "color pile." and subdiv ided those
into "heav y '' and "light" fabrics. Next, she placed the four
piles atop four dirty bedsheets, tied a knot in each, and
slung them two-to-a-shoulder into the kitchen. By day 's
end, Mom sorted, washed, hung, folded, and put away
eight loads of laundry .
She prepared for school m ornings the night before,
painting our white bucks on top of the liv ing room
radiator with Kiwi shoe polish and her two-inch SherwinWilliam s paintbrush. Early on, she painted the radiator
white so her late-night drips wouldn't show.
Then Mom m ade our lunches in less than two m inutes.
First, she plopped a tub of Skippy peanut butter, a jar of

Welch s grape jelly , and a fiv e-pound bag of Mcintosh

apples on the kitchen table. She dealt out twenty slices of
Wonder Bread into two perfectly parallel rows and, with
her ten-inch icing knife, spread the top row with peanut
butter and the bottom row with jelly . Then she flipped
the top slices onto the bottom s, halv ed each sandwich on
the diagonal and wrapped each in waxed paper. After
punching open ten brown paper bags, Mom dropped a
sandwich and an apple inside. At noon the next dav , we
opened our bags to find one apple and a concav e peanut
butter and jelly on white.
"C'm on, c'm on!" Mom y elled to us ev ery m orning at
^:2 (). as she stood by the door guarding our white bucks
warm ing in size order beneath the radiator. "Hurry or
y ou're going to be late!
We slid in our socked feet across the turquoise tile of
the liv ing room , dropped into our white bucks, grabbed a
lunch bag, and headed out the door.
After I thought about the sy stem s that m ade m y
m other's house work, I knew the only chance I had of
hav ing a well-run office rested on hav ing a place and a
sy stem for ev ery thing. So, I spent the weekend planning
and getting organized.
First, I m ade a list of ev ery thing that didn *t work at
the old office, a long list of tim e-wasters, and figured out
how to elim inate them . Then, I m ade a list of what did
work and dev ised way s to do them ev en better. I thought
through m y salespeople's office needs, num bered the m ost

im portant ones, and crossed out the ones that could wait.
I tore the lists from m y y ellow legal pad and hailed a cab
ov er to Hay m an and Sum ner stationers. I browsed
through the m erchandise, sizing up its usefulness, and
cam e hom e with a large carton full of file folders, colored
index cards, and labels.
9 :1 5 A.M. The Corcoran Group. First day .
"Good m orning, 1 ' I said as each of m y sev en
salespeople cautiously walked through the door. "After
y ou hang up y our coat, please com e ov er here, reach in,
and pull out a num ber." I had num bered and folded
fourteen pieces of paper and put them in a red
Bloom ingdale's shopping bag. Each num ber in the bag
corresponded with a num ber I had taped to the desks.
Cathy picked first, tentativ ely reaching into the bag.
"Oh, Cathy !" I exclaim ed. "Congratulations! You got
num ber sev en! You picked the best desk here!" Dav id was
next and pulled out num ber three. "Is that num ber three
y ou hav e there, Dav id?" I gushed. "Congratulations,
Dav id! You picked the best desk here."
The num ber I was pulling had ev ery one laughing.
"Now, rem em ber/' I shouted into the excited sales area,
"if y ou don t like y our desk, don't ev en giv e it a m om ent's
thought, because we'll be changing all our seats in six
m onths any way ! And if y ou do like y our desk, don't get
used to it, because we'll be changing all our seats in six
m onths any way ! And please don't put y our things on the
em pty desk next to y ours, because we'll be filling that seat

in no tim e at all."
On each of the sev en assigned desks, I had placed a
sm all y ellow rose in a white v ase with a handwritten
note. The salespeople settled in and sm iled as they read,
"I'm so happy y ou're here! xoxoBarb."
I spotted John Bachm an about to post his cardboard do
not disturb sign high abov e desk num ber fiv e. From his
perfectly parted blond hair to his stiff ironing-board walk,
ev ery thing about John said, "Leav e m e alone."
I approached cautiously . "John?" I interrupted. "You
m ay hav e needed that do not disturb sign in our old
office, but y ou won't need it around here. In this office,
ev ery one can disturb ev ery one.''''
John turned his starched neck, twisted his pinky ring
a half-turn to the right, and nodded, "Veil, if zat's v at y ou
v ant..." And took down the sign.
I walked to the front of the office and shouted, "Okay ,
now, please get y ourself a cup of coffee and a doughnut,
and we'll start our m eeting." While they sugared, m ilked,
and stirred, I began. "Good m orning, ev ery one!"
Ev ery one hum ored m e and chim ed back, "Good
m orning, Barbara."
"Today , I hav e six announcem ents to m ake, and the
first is that we're going to hav e breakfast here together
ev ery Monday m orning. It will begin at nine-thirty and
end prom ptly at ten-fifteen." Ev ery one looked around at
each other and seem ed pleased.
"The second announcem ent is that we'll be starting a

new sy stem for our listing inform ation, and here's how
the sy stem will work. I held up four different-colored
index cards. "The new listing cards carry the sam e
property inform ation as our old ones did, but the new
colors will m ake it easier to find the right-size
apartm ent when y ou need it." I dem onstrated each color
as I spoke. "All studio apartm ent inform ation will be
written on the white cards, all one-bedroom s on the
y ellow cards, two-bedroom s on blue, and three-bedroom s
and larger will alway s be pink. Ev ery tim e y ou get a new
listing, y ou'll write it on the appropriate colored card and
file it in the corresponding colored box. As our new listing
sy stem helps ev ery one, no one will receiv e listing credit if
the apartm ent is written on the wrong-colored card."
I sm iled and nodded, and ev ery one nodded along.
"The third announcem ent is about getting better
property inform ation. Pm sure y ou all agree that the
m ore we know about each property , the better chance we
hav e of selling it. So, from now on, I'll be pay ing cash for
better inform ation. For exam ple, when Dav id writes up
all the details about his new listing, and Sandy , after
seeing it, is able to add one m ore fact to Dav id's
inform ation, I'll giv e Sandy one dollar for helping Dav id."
I wav ed a fistful of dollars in the air and sm iled.
Ev ery one sm iled back.
"Announcem ent four is about the form y ou fill out to
get y our com m issions." I held up the fam iliar eight-by elev en sheet of paper. "Well, now, the com m ission request

form is green and it has a back side." I flipped it ov er,

showing the list of questions I had worked hours to create.
"When y ou answer the questions on the back, we'll all
hav e a m uch better idea of where our business is actually
com ing from .
"For exam ple, where did y ou get the custom er? Did
they call y ou on a Sunday ad? Find y ou in an open house?
Or were they referred by a friend or business associate?
Sim ply check a box. Where is y our custom er liv ing now?
Is he here in the city ? Or is he m ov ing from another
state? Another country ? Or another planet? Check a box.
And what business is y our custom er in? Is he m arried?
Single? Children? How old is he? Sim ply check a box.
Knowing where our business is com ing from will help us
get m ore business."
Ev ery one nodded along with m e.
"If we know m ore about our sellers and how each deal
was m ade." I continued, "we'll all be m uch I> etter
negotiators. So som e of the other questions are about the
sale itself. How long was the property on the m arket
before it sold? What was the first offer? And how m uch
was negotiated before the deal was done?
"The new com m ission form will take only three
m inutes to com plete. All y ou hav e to do is check the
appropriate boxes. Com m issions will be paid ev ery
Friday , and no com m ission will be paid without it."
Ev ery one nodded. So I went on: "Do y ou rem em ber
back at Corcoran-Sim one when we desperately looked for

floor plans while our custom ers waited in the lobby ? Do

y ou rem em ber the day we actually dum ped out Johns
drawer looking for the floor plan of his new listing at 2
Sutton Place? After today , here at The Corcoran Group,
we're nev er going to search for a lost floor plan again.
Because now, when y ou get a floor plan for y our new
listing, y ou'll im m ediately create a 'floor plan folder' for
ev ery one to use."
I stood and wav ed a sam ple folder for ev ery one to see,
and dem onstrated.
"First, before the floor plan can get lost, y ou staple the
new floor plan to the inside of a m anila folder and print
the address boldly on the folder's tab." I walked ov er to the
copy m achine, placed the file facedown, and pressed the
print button. "Next, y ou m ake ten copies of the original
and put them inside the folder. Then y ou place the floor
plan file by street order in the new r 'floor plan drawer' at
the front of the office. Rem em ber, if y ou take the last copy
from the folder, y ou're the one responsible for using the
stapled original to m ake ten m ore copies." As the copv
m achine finished, I said, "Ta-dah!! No m ore lost floor
plans."
Ev ery one nodded.
"And this brings us to our last announcem ent, the
'Good Idea Box.'" I pulled out a cardboard shoebox on
which I had drawn a giant y ellow lightbulb. "This box is
f or Good Ideas" I enunciated. "Whenev er y ou hav e an
idea. I'd like to know about it. I don't care if

it's a big idea, sm all idea, or ev en a stupid ideaall

ideas are welcom e! Fll pay fiv e dollars for ev ery idea, and
I'll ev en giv e y ou fiv e bucks for a com plaintbut only if
it's accom panied by a solution. So, here's the first fiv e
bucks for John Bachm an, who suggested only ten
m inutes ago that we elim inate the do not disturb signs
from the office. Great job, John!" I said, and placed the
m oney in his lim p hand.
I looked around the room , took a breath, and asked,
"Does any one hav e any questions?" Sev en dazed
salespeople shook their heads no. "Okay , then, I guess
that's ev ery thing. The Monday m eeting is now ov er."
The phone rang, I reached ov er the reception desk, and
answered, "Good m orning, The Corcoran Group."
MOM'S LESSON #6 : Put the socks in the sock drawer.
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT ORGANIZING A
BUSINESS
Good sy stem s m ake plans happen. Here's how the
organizational sy stem s introduced at the first Corcoran
Group sales m eeting would help build m y business ov er
the next twenty -fiv e y ears.
1 . Check the Box
The com m ission request form enabled m e to get an
unprecedented am ount of inform ation from m y sales
agents. Like other
independent contractors, real estate agents closely
guard inform ation related to t h e i r clients. But they
willingly gav e m e the inform ation sim ply because I m ade

the process easy and because they wouldn't get paid

without it.
In New York, change happens in a New York m inute,
and the back side of m y com m ission request form
captured it as it happened.
Here are three way s to use the power of inform ation to
help build a business:
Early inform ation helps predict em erging m arkets.
New York's a town where there's alway s som eone
coining and som eone going, and the answers m y
salespeople consistently prov ided on the com m ission
request form enabled m e to stay ahead of those changes.
In the late sev enties, m y little checked boxes helped
predict the em ergence of Manhattan's "new'' West Side.
For decades, property v alues on the West Side had trailed
far behind those of the East Side, but in 1 9 7 9 , the m argin
narrowed dram atically , alm ost ov ernight. The answers
m y sales agents prov ided showed that the custom ers
m ov ing to the West Side were the children of affluent
parents on the East Side, and the y oung "thirty som ethings ' were fast becom ing the norm . Although
ev ery body said I was crazy , I im m ediately opened a huge
West Side office and was positioned to ride the crest of the
wav e.
Inform ation positions y our com pany as the reliable
source for facts and figures.
Our Corcoran Group offices becam e a v eritable
research center for the num bers-hungry New York press

because when a reporter called, I had the answer. And the

press called us for inform ation on ev ery thing, including
stories that had nothing to do w ith real estate. If a
reporter wanted to talk to a y oung Czechoslov akian m etal sculptor liv ing in a Greenwich Village
walk-up. we could find him in twenty m inutes or less.
And today , with the adv ent of e-m ail, we can do it in ten.
Tracking the source of y our custom ers helps y ou spend
y our adv ertising dollars wisely .
Most real estate adv ertising m oney is spent in the
Sunday classified section of the local newspaper. By
knowing which ads produced the m ost custom ers we were
able to redirect our adv ertising dollars as the business
changed, placing different-size ads in different
publications on different day s of the week.
In short, the back side of the com m ission request form
told m e ev ery thing I needed to know to reach m y target
m arket, place effectiv e adv ertising, and grab m edia
attention while doing it.
2 . Meet on Monday
People don't read m em os, but they 'll listen to a big
m outh.
Ev ery Corcoran Group office has a Monday -m orning
m eeting that serv es m ultiple functions. It gets salespeople
out of bed and into the office, and is the single best v ehicle
for com m unicating inform ation, broadcasting sales, and
prom oting new properties. It's also the best arena to
publicly recognize indiv idual success within a peer group.

The Monday m eeting is the business equiv alent of m y

m other's kitchen table.
3 . Please Do Disturb
In a real estate office, the agent at the next desk is as
m uch a com petitor as a colleague. John Bachm an used
h is do not disturb sign to keep people out of his business
and away from his desk, prev enting any exchange of
inform ation and ideas. My early redirection of John with
m y "ev ery one can disturb ev ery one" philosophy becam e a
cornerstone of our com pany 's com m itm ent t o team work.
It was also the beginning of our
com pany 's open-door policy . Today at our Corcoran
Group offices there are no locked doors or drawers, and
the only walls are m ade of glass.
4 . Pick a Num ber
Fair is fair. From the first day of business, I m ade sure
not to pick fav orites. Ev ery one needs to know what the
rules are and that ev ery one is play ing by them . In our
first office, ev ery one was giv en the sam e opportunity to
pick the "best" desk, and in subsequent offices, sales desks
were picked in order of sales production, the biggest
producer picking first.
Fair play is the best way in ev ery situation. In the
spring of 1 9 9 8, I chaired and was host to twelv e hundred
corporate presidents from around the world for a business
conference at the elegant Plaza Hotel. My guests were to
stay at the hotel for a week and had booked their room s at
the sam e, although v ery expensiv e, room rate. Som e of

the suites had better v iews, som e were on better floors,

and som e were better appointed. Instead of allowing the
hotel staff to assign the room s to the guests as they
norm ally did, I insisted the attendees random ly pick a
plastic ball out of three-foot silv er goblets. Each ball was
m arked with a room num ber.
Not ev ery one stav ed in the penthouse, but ev ery one
slept well. And as the host, I av erted a week of com plaints
because the presidents had all picked their own room s
within the context of fair play .
5. Color Code
People m isread labels and m isfile the alphabet, but
v ery few people are color-blind. The new colored listing
cards and floor plan files m ade m issing inform ation easier
to find and m ore difficult to hide. By 1 9 80, the colored
listing cards would becom e New York City 's first real
estate database, and by 1 9 9 4 would conv ert again into
our corcoran.com Web site, which today is the city 's
leading real estate Web site, selling m ore than $7 00
m illion in real estate annually .
6 . Write Notes/Giv e Flowers
Little things pav e the road to loy alty .
No one is too sophisticated to appreciate a sm all
indiv idual expression of affection. To em ploy ees, it's
m oney in the bank with interest. To em ploy ers, the gift is
truly in the giv ing.
7 . Make a "Good Idea" Box
My little shoebox with the y ellow lightbulb drawn on

top becam e m y best source of bright ideas. Although

m any ideas were downright im possible, the ideas poured
in and am ong them I found nuggets of gold.
In business, the clerical people are rarely solicited for
their opinions and ideas. But our Good Idea Box was an
equal-opportunity
listener,
giv ing
ev ery one the
assurance they would be heard. It allowed ev ery
indiv idual to be a contributor, feel a part of the team , and
m ake liv e bucks.
The best creativ e ideas often cam e from the clerical
staff, and the best operational ideas usually cam e from
the salespeople. The box also gav e m e an early "heads up"
on what was about to go awry , well before it m atured into
a big problem .
I didn't just preach the Good Idea Box, I used it. And it
guaranteed success.
The sim ple sy stem s I introduced at our first Monday
m eeting gav e The Corcoran Group the footing it needed to
start building a solid com pany . And those good ideas can
all be attributed to the sim ple genius of m y m other's good
planning.
Saturday night. The front steps.
"Who wants to go to the Dairy Queen?" Dad asked us as
we gathered on the front steps.
"Me! Me!" we raised our hands and chim ed in unison.
"Who wants to get a cold, chocolate Dilly Bar?" Dad
continued. "Or m ay be an extra-thick frozen strawberry
m ilk shake in a big white cup with a straw to suck it all

up?"
"Me! Me! I would, Dad!" ev ery v oice begged.
"Or m ay be," he tem pted further, "a double banana
float with big scoops of chocolate, butter pecan, and
strawberry ice cream , all cov ered with caram el sy rup
and a big pile of whipped cream ?"
"Me! Dad, m e! I would!" we all chim ed in. Denise
jum ped up. John pushed Tom m y aside so his hand could
be better seen, and Ellen clam bered onto Dad's lap.
Dad had our attention, and we waited with drooling
m ouths for his next words.
"Well, kids," Dad sm iled, putting his arm s around
Ellen and m e, "so would I. Yep, that sure would be nice,
but . . . not tonight, kids. May be next week."
Denise sat down, John dropped his hand, and Ellen
slum ped against Dad's chest.
The next Saturday , though, Dad sm iled and said, "So
would I! Get in the car, kids!" And the chocolate Dilly Bar
was ev en sweeter, because we'd been m ade to want it
ev en m ore.
I thought about Dad's Dairy Queen tease and dialed
the New York Tim es.
"Hello, are y ou the sam e operator I was just speaking
to?" I asked the v oice on the other end of the line. "Oh,
well, any way , I'd like to place a help wanted ad in this
Sunday 's paper." And I read:
Sales, Real Estate
ONE EMPTY DESK

Only one desk av ailable for a positiv e, high-energy

person wishing to earn large com m issions. Exceptional
com pany . No experience necessary .
The Corcoran Group. 2 1 2 -3 55-3 550
I knew the ad would work.
I opened m y calendar and cleared m y Monday m orning schedule. Now to deal with the next problem .
When the phone started ringing, I was going to need one
heck of a routine to take the calls, interv iew the
salespeople, and hire the right ones.
Bath tim e. The Corcoran kitchen.
"Thank y ou, God,'' Mom pray ed each night as she
soaked in the hot water of what she called the "Holiest tub
in Edgewater." "Thank y ou for giv ing m e the next three
m inutes for m y self." Exactly two m inutes and fifty -eight
seconds later, Mom jum ped out of the tub. threw on her
pink robe, and took two broad strides out of the bathroom
and into the kitchen. She was ready for the bathtim e
routine.
She punched the t a l k button on the black intercom
that Uncle Alan had borrowed from his job at Bell
Telephone. "Kids!" her v oice squawked, as it did ev ery
night on our bedroom speaker. "You hav e exactly fiv e
m inutes to finish y our hom ework and report to the
kitchen! I repeat, fiv e m inutes. And, Eddie, leav e Johnny
alone!"
We all collected in the kitchen and took our place in
line next to the refrigerator. Eight-y ear-old Denise, the

oldest, then m e, then Eddie, then Ellen, then Johnny

holding little Tom m y 's hand.
Dad was in charge of washing and Mom in charge of
rinsing. First up was Denise, who clim bed onto the
counter next to the double white porcelain sink. Dad slid
her into the deep side of the sink filled to the brim with
warm sudsy water. Starting with her head, he
kneaded the sham poo through her hair, down her
back, ov er her behind, past her legs, and finally between
her toes.
When Denise stepped ov er into the clear water of
Mom 's rinsing sink, Dad slid m e from the counter into the
washing sink and began kneading the sham poo into m y
hair. Mom used her black-handled alum inum pot to giv e
Denise a warm final rinse, and then, like a baton in a
relay , quickly passed Denise back off to Dad.
I stepped ov er into Mom 's rinsing sink, and on cue m y
brother Eddie stepped into the washing sink, where he
waited while Dad sat Denise on top of the terry -cov ered
counter and used his big towel to speed-dry her hair.
Denises job was to press her head into Dads chest as hard
as she could, and try to hum " Aaaaaaah" straight
through the v ibration to the v ery end.
As Denise m ov ed ov er to the kitchen table to put on
the printed flannels Mom had waiting in size order, I was "
aaaaaahing' n through the speed-dry , Eddie was getting
Mom 's final rinse, Ellen was stepping into Dads sink, and
Johnny and Tom m y waited in line.

By the tim e the calls started com ing in on Sunday , I

had set up a routine as squeaky -clean as Mom 's to m ov e
the sales applicants in and out.
"Hello," the first caller pleasantly began, "I'm calling
about y our em pty desk adv ertisem ent in today 's paper."
Our receptionist responded with "Thank y ou for
calling. If y ou would just hold a m om ent, I'll connect v ou
with our president."
As I picked up the phone, the applicant politely
repeated, "I'm calling about y our em pty desk ad in today 's
paper."
"Oh, thank y ou for calling," I responded, "but
unfortunately that position has already been filled."
"What?" the caller asked suspiciously . "How could that
possibly be? It just appeared in today 's paper!"
"Yes, and I'm v ery sorry ," I explained sy m pathetically .
"But we usually hav e a long list of people waiting to join
our com pany , and
i
ilie positions are often taken before the ad ev en
appears. Tin re;ill\ sorry to disappoint y ou. "
"Well . . . okay /" the caller said, "I guess I understand"
"But." I interrupted, "positions do open up from tim e to
tim e, and Fd be happy to get together with y ou any way .
Then at least we'd hav e a chance to m eet one another so
when another position opens, I could call y ou
im m ediately ."
"Oh, would y ou? That would be v ery nice of y ou."

"Tom orrow at ten, then?" I finished.

I narrowed twenty -sev en would-be salespeople into
sixteen appointm ents and scheduled them the next
m orning between 1 0:00 and 1 :00. Each applicant was
surprised to find three other people already waiting, and
jockey ed for a piece of the sm all bench at the front of the
office.
Our receptionist greeted ev ery one with a four-page
sales application. On m y instructions, she gav e those who
appeared well groom ed and well dressed a pen. And those
applicants who weren't "dressed for success," she handed a
pencil. When the applicants called to follow up later, I had
a surefire way to tell which callers to spend m y tim e
with.
I scanned each sales application to ferret out the
applicant's personal references and hom e address because
the inform ation would tell m e whether or not they had
the contacts and custom er leads I couldn't giv e them .
The first interv iew of the day was with a well-coiffed
wom an in her early forties. After chatting at length
about her children, hobbies, and husbands. I corralled the
conv ersation back in with "Mary , Fm so happv y ou'v e
spent all this tim e telling m e about y our fam ily and
friends." I sm iled and she sm iled back. "But would y ou
m ind if Fm totally honest with y ou?
"Please, of course not," she welcom ed.
"Well, Marv , after working with so m any different
people. I

guess I'v e concluded that great salespeople hav e a few

things in com m on. The first is em pathy . You know, the
ability to get along with people. And, Mary , it's obv ious to
m e that y ou're v ery , v ery good with people. Would y ou
agree?"
Mary straightened her back, sat up proudly , and said,
"Yes, of course. Yes, y es, I'm v ery good with people."
I sm iled and then paused with obv ious concern. "But," I
said in a serious v oice, "I'v e also found that the other
thing great salespeople share is a real need to succeedI'd
alm ost call it a killer instinct. And for whatev er reason,
I'm just not getting it from y ou." Then I sat back in m y
chair and waited for her response.
For the next fiv e m inutes, Mary gav e a m onologue on
how she "really w a s aggressiv e." Her words were right,
but her m usic was all wrong.
I bade her good-by e and prom ised to call if a position
becam e av ailable. It nev er would.
The next applicant sashay ed in with her black
alligator briefcase, rem ov ed an alligator glov e, and
extended her m anicured hand across m y desk. She
explained she had "four y ears' real estate experience" and
knew all the right people in all the right places. In three
short m inutes, she m ade it perfectly clear to m e she had
nothing to learn. And I believ ed her and sent her on her
way .
Thirteen applicants later, a tall wom an nam ed Em ily
m arched confidently into m y office and plopped down.

She wore a hot-pink tweed suit trim m ed with a

contrasting taupe braid. Her suit had m ore buttons than I
had in m y whole wardrobe. They were bright gold with
two raised Cs on each of them . I im m ediately m ade a
m ental note to im itate their design for a Corcoran Group
logo.
When I got to m y standard "I don't think y ou're
aggressiv e ..." line, Em ily was so insulted I thought she'd
leap across the desk and grab m y throat. And as she y apy ap-y apped in m y face, I knew Em ily was the gal for m e.
MOM'S LESSON #7 : If's there's m ore than one kid to
wash, set up a bathtim e routine.
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT SETTING UP GOOD
ROUTINES
Although I was desperate to fill sev en desks, I created
the im pression that desks at The Corcoran Group were in
short supply . Realizing that good salespeople need to
com pete, I knew the adrenaline would flow when they
were forced to com pete for the already taken "One Em pty
Desk."
When they arriv ed, the applicants were greeted with
a lengthy sales application and a job that was filled. I
knew that the higher the hurdle, the m ore conv inced
salespeople would be that the other side m ust be a v ery
im portant place. My pen-and-pencil routine quickly
sorted the professional-looking applicants from the rest,
and sav ed tim e when thev called to follow up.
My "I don't think y ou're aggressiv e" challenge becam e

m y surefire sv stem to pick out the winners. When Em ily

v ehem ently reacted to m y challenge. I didn't need to
listen to her words, because her m usic cam e through loud
and clear. People cant fake passion.
M y hiring routine quickly filled our sev en em pty
desks with exceptional salespeople because, like m y
m other's bathtim e routine, it allowed m e to process lots of
people in a short tim e. My new hires gav e us the early
sales talent that would soon push The Corcoran Group
ahead of our com petitors.
least to m ost m otiv ated and div ide them into three
piles, labeling them "not negotiable," "will take som ething
less," and "gotta-get-outta-here-fast!"
I worked with m y bright-ey ed crew until 1 1 :00 a.m .,
took a m inute to tell them how m uch I appreciated them ,
and darted out for m y showings of the day . Around
6 :3 0,1 rushed back to the office to return phone calls and
set up m y sales appointm ents for the next m orning.
Then, as it was the day s before cell phones and e-m ails, I
read through the num erous notes left for m e in m y "in"
box and jotted m y responses to the salespeople.
Around 8:00, I locked the door and walked the elev en
blocks hom e to m y one-bedroom floor-through on East
Sixty -ninth Street. I clim bed the stairs to the second floor,
turned the double deadbolt lock, took a consoling breath,
and opened the door into the only place I had ev er liv ed
by m y self in m y life. I was thankful to be too busy and too
exhausted to be lonely .

I knew I couldn't keep up the routine m uch longer. I

knew I needed another m e.
Bedtim e. The girls ' room .
"Eddie!" Mom hollered to Dad. "Eddie, they 're ready !"
As the household population grew, Mom ran out of
tim e. In order to giv e herself the needed m inutes each
night to prepare for the m ornings, Mom was (thankfully )
forced to giv e up her position as one of our two room s'
nightly lullaby singers. She had Dad record his fav orite
songs on a brown reel-to-reel tape deck that Uncle Alan
had borrowed from his job at Bell Telephone. Then she set
up Dad to alternate nights between the girls' room and
the boy s' room , singing songs to lull us to sleep. The room
that wasn't getting a liv e perform ance could instead
listen to Dad's Greatest Hits. In so doing, Mom succeeded
in putting Dad in two places at once and creating a standin for her.
Tonight, Dad was liv e in the girls' room . He sauntered
in with his
old wood guitar and sat down on the edge of Ellen's bed.
I watched as he carefully rem ov ed his pick from between
the E, G, and A strings and strum m ed a single sweet C
chord. Denise was the first to blurt out a request: "Sing us
the one about 'Heart of m y heart,' Dad!"
"And 'Valla-Valla-Vee Was in the Arm y ,'" Ellen quickly
added, as she set upright in her bed.
"And what about y ou, Barbara Ann?" Dad asked.
"What will it be tonight?"

I alway s waited, so I could hear Dad say m y nam e.

"My usual," I answered, " 'Giv e My Regards to Hoboken.' r
Dad began to sing in his Perry Com o v oice. I scrunched
the cov ers up tight against m y chin, stretched m y toes as
far as I could, and fought m y heav y ey elids until I heard
the v ery last words of m y fav orite song.
Giv e m y regards to Hoboken, Down where the breezes
blow. In all kinds of weather, You 1 1 find us together, In
H-O-B-O-K-E-N, EN, In H-O-B-O-K-E-N!
While Dad crooned in the girls' room and his v oice reelto-reeled in the boy s' room , Mom m ade the next day 's
lunches in the kitchen.
The day Esther Kaplan arriv ed for her interv iew at
the old Corcoran-Sim one, she wore a two-piece knit dress
that was m ostly cream and green, with sm all touches of
cranberry . She was a sm all, elegant wom an in her m idforties and carried a beige handbag with a Bakelite
handle and clasp. An executiv e secretary to a real estate
attorney , Esther wanted to m ake a change in her career.
The first thing Esther did was present her card, which
she carefully rem ov ed from her purse. I caught a quick
glim pse inside.
Esther's handbag was a sm all m iracle of organization,
a m iniature file cabinet disguised as a fashion accessory .
She unzipped one of the two interior pockets, extracted
the card, handed it to m e, zipped the pocket, and snapped
the clasp. Before the interv iew was ov er, 1 knew Fd feel
safe with m y wallet in Esther's purse.

That's what I rem em bered as I realized I desperately

needed som eone to help m e run the business. And after
working side by side with her for the past two y ears, I
knew I could trust Esther with any am ount of
responsibility , if she would only agree to take it on. So one
night I asked her if she could stay an hour late.
"Esther," I began, "I really appreciate y our taking the
tim e out of y our busy day to m eet with m e, and I m ust
say that I'm constantly am azed at what a phenom enal
salesperson y ou are. I rem em ber y ou m ade y our first sale
y our v ery first m onth at Corcoran-Sim one, and I think
y ou'v e m ade a sale ev ery m onth since. I frankly don't
know how y ou do it. Esther, y ou are truly an am azing
lady ."
"Thank y ou, Barb," Esther quietly replied. "That's v ery
nice to hear."
"Esther, I'm wondering if y ou would consider taking on
m ore of a leadership role here at the com pany ," I
continued.
Esther raised a suspicious brow. "What leadership role
would that be?"
"Why , the m ost im portant position there is, v ice
president of The Corcoran Group," I heralded.
"And what would the v ice president of The Corcoran
Group do?" she inquired.
"Basically , y ou would be an extension of m e," I
explained. "When I'm out showing apartm ents, y ou would
act with m y full authority . And when y ou were out

showing apartm ents, I would act in y our stead. I guess

y ou could say we'd be one, and together we would build
the business."
"Well, Barb, I don't know what to say ," she answered,
obv iously flattered and surprised. "I'll hav e to giv e this
som e serious
Barbara Corcoran
consideration." She hesitated, clutching her purse
closer to her chest. "May I ask what the position would
pay ?"
I hadn't really thought about this m inor point, but
suddenly I rem em bered Wim py from the Popey e cartoons
Mom let us watch on Saturday m ornings.
"I would gladly pay y ou Tuesday for one ham burger
today ," I said with a sm ile.
Esther straightened in her chair, tilted her head, and
said, "I'm not quite sure I understand."
I laughed. "Esther, I don't hav e any m oney to offer y ou
right now, but this is m ore im portant than m oney . I'm
offering y ou a partnership, and I could pay y ou in stock.
In fact, 1 1 1 pay y ou ten percent of our entire stock in
three y ears if y ou help m e build m y business today ." With
that, I took a y ellow legal pad from the shelf and drew
three wide colum ns across the top.
The first I labeled "Year." The second, "# of Salespeople."
And the last colum n I labeled "Com m issions." I figured m y
fourteen salespeople would bring in $2 50,000 this y ear,
so in the first row, I wrote "1 9 7 8," "1 4 ," and "$2 50,000/*

Then as Esther watched with interest, I quickly worked

down each colum n, doubling the num ber of salespeople
and com m issions on each y ear as I went.
"Thirty -tiro m illion dollars!" 1 exclaim ed when I
com pleted the last row. The num ber astonished m e. I was
am azed at how eas) ii would be to becom e rich! I looked up
at Esther, circled the im pressiv e sum , and gushed, "Well,
what do y ou think?"
Whether she believ ed m e or not, Esther Kaplan bought
in, and deferred som e of her salary in the first few y ears
in exchange for her partnership interest. The v ery next
day , while Esther was running the office. I was buzzing
about town, hustling for our $3 2 m illion.
MOM'S LESSON #8: If y ou want to be in two places at
once, borrow a reel-to-reel.
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT DELEGATING
I realized that in try ing to be ev ery thing to ev ery body
at m y fledgling com pany , I was only fooling m y self.
I was going to hav e to put m y confidence and wallet
into som eone else's hand and it scared m e to death. In m y
heart, I knew no one else could run The Corcoran Group
the way I could, so why , I reasoned, would I let som eone
try and m ay be screw things up?
Deciding to share responsibility and control was the
toughest m ov e I ev er had to m ake in building m y
business. But because of the way Esther was, it was also
easy as pie. Right away . 1 saw a trem endous upside in
being able to delegate the things I didn't like to do. I also

saw that because Esther enjoy ed those things, she m ight

ev en do them better than I did. Good enough, any way .
Once I'd decided Esther was the one to help m e run
things, I still had to conv ince her that it was a good idea.
Why should she upset her own profitable apple cart for
what m ight turn out to be pie in the sky ?
So I shared m y naiv e dream with Esther, a big pay day
som e Tuesday down the road for ham burgers today and
ev ery day for a while. When she didn't quite know what
to m ake of that, I found a way of putting it in her own nononsense, v ery organized term s, laid out neatly in boxes,
dollars, and cents. Then Esther could at least see that she
liked where I was heading.
I m ade sure that Esther could m aintain som e of her
sales incom e while helping m e build our com pany . The
arrangem ent enabled her to still m eet her financial needs
until "Tuesday " arriv ed. I didn't ask her to run the office
full-tim e until the com pany 's growth m ade it possible to
m ake up the shortfall from her lost com m issions.
We hit $3 2 m illion in com m issions in fourteen y ears
instead of the projected sev en, and 500 salespeople m ade
it happen rather than the 1 ,7 9 2 I'd projected. So, m y
projection was a bit off, but I know we would hav e
accom plished it m uch later if I hadn't taken a leap of faith
in hiring, and then prom oting, Esther Kaplan.
WHO AND HOW TO HIRE
I'v e hired a lot of people since Esther Kaplan becam e
the first v ice president of The Corcoran Group, and I'v e

learned a few things about how to pick 'em . The first

thing to recognize is that while y our goal m ay be to
duplicate y ourself, reel-to-reel, there's really no one quite
like y ou. You'v e got to accept an im perfect copy .
What stops great leaders from hiring other people to
lead is often their conv iction that no one else can do the
job as well as they can. And they 're right to think that.
But, sooner or later, if they 're going to build a bigger
business, they 'v e still got to hire som ebody to help them
run things.
Here are m y dozen tips for hiring great leaders:
1 . A job done 80 percent as well as y ou could do it is a
job done well enough.
Forget about perfection; it doesn't exist.
2 . The speed of the boss is the speed of the team .
The boss sets the pace that ev ery one follows. If y ou
don't lead by exam ple, watch out.
3 . Leaders com e in two flav ors, expanders and
containers.
The best leadership team s hav e a m ix of both.
Expanders, like m e. are naturally inclined to m ake m ore
and m ore of som ething. Containers, like Esther, are
naturally inclined to keep ev ery thing in order. One
without the other alway s runs into trouble, because after
a great idea is birthed, it needs to be nursed.
4 . Alway s choose attitude ov er experience. Alway s.
People with the right attitude are a pleasure to work
with. They are willing to learn, eager to try . and excited

to discov er som ething new. If som eone likes to do things

their way or no way . don't hire them . Bad attitude is bad
news.
5. All things being equal, alway s choose a wom an ov er
a m an.
Wom en hav e m ore to prov e than m en, and they 'll
work m uch harder prov ing it. They work differently
from m en. their sty le is m ore collaborativ e, and they
know how to read between the lines. Wom en are
pragm atic, m uch m ore likely than m en to tell the truth,
and they 're definitely m ore fun to work with. Besides,
choosing a wom an puts y ou on the cutting edge, since
wom en are taking ov er any way .
6 . Make sure they fit in.
A good organization is like a box of cray ons. You need
different colors of the spectrum , but all the cray ons
should fit in the box.
7 . Make jobs for people, don't squeeze people into jobs.
Ev ery one has som ething they do best, and a
m anager's job is to find it and wrap a position around it.
Esther Kaplan's purse indicated that she had the
organizational flair to run a tight ship.
Most of the positions in m y com pany were created
around the specific people who hold them . Som e
exam ples:
Our Welcom e Lady . The beautiful y oung wom an I
found sitting behind the counter at m y neighborhood
florist had a sm ile I'd walk the extra four blocks to see. She

was an anom aly , a sm iling New Yorkerl I hired her as a

walkin', talkin' sm ile for our business. She warm ly
welcom es out-of-towners to our city and quickly
introduces them to the right salespeople. Ours.
Our Swing Manager. One of our talented salespeople
spent half her tim e between appointm ents helping and
coaching her colleagues, y et refused m y offer to becom e a
full-tim e sales m anager. She said she had no interest in
being tied down to "the twenty -four-hour-a-day , sev enday s-a-week" routine of running an office. (And she was
right, our sales m anagers nev er really had a peaceful day
off.) We created a new position of "swing m anager" around
her. She got the flexibility she wanted, and the new
position guaranteed our sales m anagers day s off and
carefree v acations.
Our Marketing Coach. There's alway s a day when a
great salesperson decides he or she "doesn't want to be in
sales any m ore." So, when one of our best salespeople and
self-prom oters m ade that declaration, I handed him a
paintbrush and told him to paint a picture of his dream
job. The picture he painted was one of teaching other
people how best to m arket them selv es to get m ore
business. He's now our in-house guru on self-prom otion
and a singular attraction in luring good salespeople from
other firm s.
8. Make sure people see their gift.
It's the m anager's job to find the gift and underline it.
Just like m y m other identified the gifts in her children, a

good m anager helps people see their potential and

rem inds them of it regularly .
9 . Tell them to m ake m istakes. Make it part of their
job.
Failing and growing are the sam e thing, and a good
m anager com m unicates that belief. Fv e found that
sharing m y own failures is the surefire way to put failure
in the positiv e light it deserv es. It's no good if people are
afraid to fail, or afraid to tell y ou they v e failed. That
atm osphere leads to a lot of skeletons stashed in closets. It's
not fun when thej start spilling outand they alway s do.
1 0. Throw them the ball and cut the string.
Make sure people understand that they don't need to
report each day 's progress. But m ake sure they also
understand that y ou expect to hear from them whenev er
they get stalled.
I'v e found that the m ore confidence y ou express in
people, the harder and m ore creativ ely they will work to
solv e a problem . When y ou tell som eone, "You're a bright
wom an, y ou'll figure it out," the last thing in the world
she wants is to com e back and say , "I can't do it."
1 1 . Nev er step in front of those y ou hire.
The boss's place is in the background, getting behind
people and lending them support. Once y ou prom ote
som eone to a position of authority , the worst thing y ou
could do is m ake a decision for her, or let her subordinates
go around her to get to y ou. All too often a boss will let
longtim e subordinates m ake an "end run" around the new

m anager, com pletely underm ining that person's chance

to lead effectiv ely .
1 2 . Becom e a grandparent to y our y oung leaders, not
a nerv ous parent.
Thank them , bless them , pray for them , and spoil
them . But don't day -to-day control them . Instead, giv e
them an em otional m assage ev ery day , just like the back
rubs Nana gav e us at bedtim e, as she whispered
sweetness into our ears.
SIX WAYS TO MOTIVATE
1 . Identify som eone's hot button, the thing that
m otiv ates them .
Just asking, "What would m ake y our job a dream
com e true?" will y ield am azingly attainable answers.
Indiv idual hot buttons can run the gam ut from financial
stability to status, authority , creativ e expression, or just
a com fortable desk chair. But ev ery one has at least one
m otiv ational hot button.
Esther was interested in respect and financial
security . The position of first v ice president gav e her the
respect she needed. Each tim e I sought her counsel on
im portant decisions, her pride was enhanced. She was in
charge of the com pany 's m oney and that m ade her feel
financially secure.
Zero in on som eone's hot button, and wrap that
person's position around it. By understanding their
personal goals, they 're able to achiev e their professional
happiness.

2 . Let them nam e their own price.

Negotiating a price for y our own labor is an
unnerv ing experience for ev ery one. Ev en the m ost
confident people will second-guess them selv es after
agreeing on their com pensation. When deciding upon the
right com pensation for a position, ask the person to
structure their own com pensation package, and then pay
them a little bit m ore. I'v e alway s found that people nam e
a lower price than I would hav e giv en if I had suggested
their
com pensation. Also, pay ing people just a little bit m ore
than they 'v e asked for is the best shortcut 1 know to longterm lov e and loy alty .
3 . Giv e a bonus instead of a raise.
No m atter how m uch a raise is appreciated, it's soon
taken for granted. An unexpected bonus, on the other
hand, leav es a sweet, satisfy ing aftertaste long after the
m oney is spent. In fact, a well-placed bonus conditions the
receiv er to m ake extra efforts to say thanks and
m otiv ates them to work ev en harder for the next one.
4 . Little kindnesses are the sure road to loy alty .
Nothing is m ore corporate or less effectiv e than public
display s of the boss's appreciation. Grandstanding only
serv es the guy on the grandstand, and ev ery body knows
it. Instead, express y our appreciation one-on-one and let
the recipient share y our com plim ent with ev ery one else.
5. Share y our dream .
Show people why and how their role is essential to

y our dream . Bv sharing y our dream , y ou speak to

people's souls and allow them to be part of it.
6 . Guard y our gold.
Rem em ber that gold shines. After y ou'v e m olded a
great new leader, y our com petitors will try to poach her.
So be darn sure y ou'v e already m ade y our leader loy al.
broad wav e. "And. hi. I'm Bil l Higgins from Higgins
Realtors in New Jersey . We're the oldesl and'boldest real
estate com pany in the state,
and I suppose y ou're the new broker from the city ?" He
didn't wait for m y response. "I heard this PR guy speak at
a conference last m onth in Boston, nam ed Solom on
Stev e Solom on. He's from Manhattan and that's what he
does, gets people in the paper. You should look him up. He
got m y nam e on the front page of the Bergen Record"
Higgins bragged. "Yep, right under Nancy Reagan!"
My im m ediate reaction was Who is this guy ? And
what the heck is he talking about? But when I returned to
the city , I called Stev e Solom on. The gam e of PR was
about to begin.
"You charge sev en hundred and fifty dollars a m onthl
Ev ery m onth? ' I asked in disbelief, whisking m y blond
bangs away from m y ey es. 'Mr. Solom on, that's an awful
lot of m oney : it's m ore than I'm spending on all our
adv ertising!" My palm s were sweating. I stood up to
straighten the seam s on m y new red dress, and paced
once around m y chair before sitting back down.
Stev e Solom on, a dark-suited, serious m an with a

thoughtful face, explained. 'The best way to m ake y our

com pany known is to put out som e sort of surv ev or
report on the m arketplace. Som ething with a lot of
num bersthe m edia lov e num bers. May be com pare this
y ear's prices to last y ear's."
"1 guess that m akes sense,'" I said without a clue as to
how or where I was going to get $7 50. "Could we call it
som ething im portant like the New York City Apartm ent
Price Report?''
"May be." he considered diplom atically , jotting a few
words in his notebook. "Or how about calling it The
Corcoran Croup Report, or, ev en better. The Corcoran
Report.
"The Corcoran Report?" I paused and listened to the
sound of that. "But it doesn't m ean any thing." I said. "No
one knows who or what Corcoran is."
"No," he answered, "but do the report and they will.''
Sum m er. UndercliffAv enue.
My hands were cov ered with chalk as I finished m y
m asterpiece, "The Largest Sidewalk Snail Gam e in the
History of the World!"' The Snail wriggled up and down
the sidewalk, ov er the curb, and onto Undercliff Av enue.
It stretched from Mrs. Rinebold's house, past Mrs.
Gibbons', and right up our front steps.
Square after square of sy m bols and shapes showed the
neighborhood kids exactly what to do as they hopped onto
each space: first with two feet, then one right foot, and
the next com m anding a left foot in rev erse. Next cam e

one of m y tricky spirals I called "spinners," followed by a

dozen other v ariations on and on to the end.
The kids began lining up for their turn to hop, clap,
jum p, and spin their way around to the finish line.
As usual, Mean Michael Mertz was standing at the
head of the line. He darted through the first ten squares,
pretending to alm ost trip on the rev erse double spin, then
bolted through the last forty spaces, m aking m y Snail
look easy .
Fatty Patty stepped up next, and I just knew he was
going to hurt him self. There was no way his chubby legs
could possibly do m y double spinner.
"Wait a m inute, Patty !" I said, grabbing m y pink chalk
and walking ov er to the square. "I gotta fix one thing." I
erased the spinner with the sole of m y sneaker, drew two
new feet in the sam e square, and stood up. "Okay , go
ahead, Patty ."
'W o w a y !" Michael Mertz protested loudly . "You can't
do that! You can't just go and change it like that!"
"Oh y es she can," Ellen said, defending m e.
"No way , no how!" he repeated. "You can't do that!"
All the kids began shouting. It was Tim m y Tom who
broke the im passe when he peeped, "Why don't we ask
Mrs. Corcoran, because she's the m other. 1 ''
I ran up the steps and through the side alley into the
kitchen. Mom was at the ironing board.
"Mom !" I blurted, try ing to catch m y breath. Michael
Mertz saj s I can't change a square in m y Snail gam e. Can

I?"
"It's y our gam e. Barbara Ann," she said, rendering her
decision \\ ithout lifting her ey es off Dad's white shirt, "So
m ake up y our own rules."
I bounded down the stairs, shouting Mom 's v erdict:
"My m other say s it's m y gam e and I can m ake up m y own
rules!"
I stepped off the curb and stared Michael in the face.
"And m y rules are: It's Patty 's turn!"
Fatty Patty finished the gam e on two solid feet, and I
prom ised m y self that tom orrow I'd m ake m y Snail ev en
bigger! I'd start all the way up at the library , com e down
past the church, and wind m y Snail right back up Oxen
Hill clear out of Edgewater!
July 1 9 81 . The Corcoran Group.
I slid a piece of our new Corcoran Group stationery into
m y Selec-tric, still thinking about the blank sidewalks of
Undercliff Av enue and how I filled them with m y Snail
gam es. I stared at the blank page and scrolled up. I knew I
had little to work with now, but it was m y gam e, and I
was going to m ake up the rules.
The only inform ation I had gathered for The Corcoran
Repor t was a list of our apartm ent sales ov er the last six
m onths, exactly elev en. So, I added up all the sale prices
and div ided by elev en. I checked it twice and the answer
was $2 54 ,2 3 2 .1 rounded the figure up to an ev en
82 55,000 and ty ped in the words "AVERAGE AP
\RTMENT PRICE" next to it.

"There!" I said, surprising m y self. "That was pretty

easy and the av erage price seem s about right."
I was feeling sm art and started thinking that a price
per room m ight also be useful! So. I sat back and pictured
all the apartm ents I had shown ov er the last few m onths
and how m any room s each one had. I was writing fast
and knew that the algebra I had repeated twice in
sum m er school was going to com e in handy .
So, let's see, I pondered, as I riffled through the stack of
listing form s. It looks like there are a lot m ore onebedroom s than two-bedroom s, and a few m ore twobedroom s than three-bedroom s. And since one-bedroom
apartm ents hav e three or three and one half room s, and
two-bedroom s hav e four or four and one half room s, and
three-bedroom s hav e either fiv e, six, or sev en room s,
t h en , I thought as I m assaged m y exploding head, the
av erage apartm ent in Manhattan m ust hav e about four
and one quarter room s! "Yep, that's it," I decided aloud,
and began to ty pe.
3B
THE CORCORAN REPORT 1 9 81 MID-YEAR STUDY
"An in-depth 6 -m onth Surv ey and Analy sis of
Conditions and Trends in the New York City Luxury
Apartm ent Marketplace. n
AVERAGE APARTMENT PRICE: $2 55,000'""
AVERAGE ROOM PRICE: $57 ,000*
'""rounded up to the nearest thousand dollars
For press inquiries contact: Barbara Corcoran,

President, The Corcoran Group 2 1 2 -3 55-3 550

I y anked The Corcoran Report from the ty pewriter,
m ade Xerox copies, and m ailed one to ev ery reporter who
had written an article in that Tuesday 's New York Tim es.
I ev en included the sportswriters, figuring that one of
them m ight know som ebody rich like Joe Nam ath who
m ight be looking to buy a big apartm ent.
IF YOU DON'T HAVE BIG BREASTS 7 5
Sunday . August 3 0, 1 9 S1 . New York Tim es.
The headline read:
STUDY SHOWS CO-OP PRICES NEARLY QUINTUPLED
I stared at the headline in absolute disbelief. The story
read: "According to Barbara Corcoran, president of The
Corcoran Group Real Estate Com pany , the av erage price .
. . has reached an all-tim e high of S2 55,000 . . ."
I read the line again slowly , and then once m ore out
loud. I put the Tim es back down on m y desk and thought,
/ m ust be in the m iddle of som e kind of Catholic m iracle!
I took out the black-handled scissors from m y drawer
and carefully cut out the words "According to Barbara
Corcoran, president of The Corcoran Group Real Estate
Com pany " I coated the paper with som e Cutex nail
hardener, blew it dry , and taped it abov e the rotary dial
on m y phone.
MOM'S LESSON #9 : It's y our gam e, m ake up y our own
rules.
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT BECOMING A
SOMEBODY

T h e New York Tim es story put m e square in the

m iddle of the Manhattan real estate gam e, play ing it by
m y own rules.
ov erheard one of m y salespeople pitching for a listing
on the phone. "Fin calling from The Corcoran Group," he
said to the potential seller. "Let m e spell it for y ou. It's C-OR-C Oh, y ou'v e heard of
us?r
Unlike adv ertising, publicity has the power of the
third-party endorsem ent. And adv ertising could nev er
buy m e the credibility of being quoted in that Sunday 's
New York Tim es.
Writers need num bers and statistics to substantiate
their stories. That m akes num bers the slam dunk of all
good publicity . Since coop sale prices were considered
priv ate and nev er published, m y num bers were as good
as any one else'sm ay be ev en better.
HOW TO MAKE A STATISTICAL REPORT THAT GETS
NOTICED
1 . Don't follow rules that don't exist.
I had shown enough apartm ents ov er the preceding
sev en y ears to com e to a reasonable conclusion about the
size of a ty pical Manhattan apartm ent. Although our
elev en sales m ight not hav e been enough to prov ide a
solid basis for an industry av erage, they didn't hav e to be.
They just had to be believ able for the m arketplace.
I had as m uch right to be in the gam e as any one else,
and by positioning m y self as an authority , I becam e the

authority .
2 . Keep the report sim ple and nam e it after y our
business.
Our first Corcoran Report was one page long and had
one good hooksale prices. And since ev ery one was
interested in knowing what the next guy was pay ing for
his apartm ent, we told them . Besides, it's a lot easier to
churn out a sim ple statistical report than inv ent a new
story ev ery m onth.
3 . Be consistent.
Many of m y com petitors soon copied our m arket
report, but the) were nev er consistent in publishing it.
The Corcoran Report cam e out ev er y six m onths, rain or
shine. And reporters learned to rely on it.
4 . Alway s tell the truth.
In the m edia world, honesty is the key to longev ity
and there are three good reasons to tell it like it is. ev en
when it. seem s to be against y our best business interests.
First, bad news alway s prints. And when the m arket is
bad and y ou hav e little m oney for adv ertising, that's just
when y ou need free publicity m ost. Next, when y ou're
willing to speak the truth on how bad things really are.
reporters learn to trust y ou. Later, when y ou announce a
m arket recov ery , they believ e y ou. Last, reporting bad
news wont fuel a business downturn. Contrary to
com m on belief, it sim ply labels it and gets it ov er with.
5. Ignore the nay say ers.
When I issued our first Corcoran Report, our m ost

dedicated salespeople argued v ehem ently against it. They

believ ed that elev en sales were not enough to produce an
av erage price and feared we could lose our credibility .
What they didn't realize was that we had no credibility .
We had nothing to lose and nowhere to go but up.
P.S. Sev en y ears later. I m arried Bill Higgins. the guy
who first told m e about public relations. He's still
im possible to understand, but, bov . is he sm art.
II \ < H DON'T HAVE lil(; BREASTS 7 9
Spring. The front steps.
Mom cam e out of the screen door and leaned her
broom against die bouse. "Kids!" she shouted, her belly
protruding beneath her blue housedress. "Your dad will be
com ing down the hill any m inute now with a big
surprise!" We ran from the side y ard to the front steps,
each of us reaching our own conclusions about what the
surprise m ight be. Mom stood on the top step with Baby
Mary Jean on her hip. and we all sat beneath her and
waited.
We heard Dad s green Ram bler before we saw it. It
clanked and git> \\led like an old tanker. The used car
salesm an had told Dad the Ram bler "operates great in low
gear! So Dad had kept it in low gear for the entire three
y ears he'd owned it.
"Here he com es!" Mom shouted, pointing left up
Library Hill. We watched as Dad m ade the turn off
Edgewater Place with Uncle Bobby in the passenger seat
beside him . They were honking and wav ing from beneath

what looked like a m ountain of six-foot boxes atop the car

s roof. Piled at least fiv e high, they were bouncing and
flapping as Dad's Ram bler cam e down Library Hill.
"Those suckers are m ov ing V Eddie y elled, as Dad
wav ed excitedly and we all wav ed back. The boxed tower
leaned dram atically to the left when Dad swerv ed to the
right, and the Ram bler screeched to a halt in front of our
house.
"Av alanche!" Eddie y elled as ten twin m attresses
thum p-thum p-thum ped down the windshield and flipped
onto the hood like dom inoes. Uncle Bobby and Dad were
still sm iling and wav ing like beauty pageant winners on
a wrecked float, their front doors webbed shut in
clothesline.
.Mom handed Mary Jean off to Denise and bounded
down the steps two at a tim e. She arched her back and
put her hands squarely on her hips. "Eddie! You hav e no
com m on sense. None! Why didn't y ou tie the rope in both
directions? I'm telling y ou, Ed, y ou're just like y our
father!
"Sweetheart," Dad charm ed with a sm ile as he leaned
through the clotheslined window. "Couldn't y ou get a
knife or som ething and help get us out of here?"
While Mom ran up for the knife, swearing she'd use it
on Dad, we all stam peded down to get a better look at our
new m attresses. Som e of them had little red stripes, som e
had blue ones, and a few had sm all green polka dots. In a
m ad frenzy , we each staked a claim on our own m attress.

A m ile of clothesline later, Dad and Uncle Bobby were

cut out of the Ram bler and they began taking the
m attresses two at a tim e into our house.
Mom could alway s figure out a way to squeeze one
m ore child into the boy s' or girls' room . When Dad had
told Mom that the Holy Angel's Academ y for Girls was
closing, she had im m ediately sent him to get ten of its
best twin-size m attresses and then spent the m orning
m entally rearranging our beds toe-to-toe along each wall
like railroad cars. Using her broom as a m easuring stick
to stake out each bed's space, Mom had calculated how to
fit four beds into each room . As Dad and Uncle Bobby
hoisted the m attresses into the house, she pointed out
exactly where they were going.
"Girls' room !" she com m anded, "against the right wall.
Boy s' room "she pointed"to the left of the closet." Dad
and Uncle Bobby huffed and puffed and followed Mom 's
instructions until four twin-size beds were neatly
arranged in each room . "Now, put the crib in the liv ing
room between the wall and the sofa," she finished, "and
take the last two m attresses to the basem ent. We m ay end
up needing them ."
Esther sat with her hands neatly folded on her lap and
her ankles crossed beneath her chair, prim ly waiting for
m y answer. "The reason we're interv iewing salespeople,
m y dear Esther, is because I'v e figured out a way to add
m ore desks," I said sm ugly . "Probably thirty percent
m ore! It's the old 'toe-to-toe' routine, and I'll show y ou how

it works.''
I held up a m anila folder on which I had drawn
fourteen rcctan-gles labeled "Desk." and fourteen sm all
circles labeled "Chair." "Here's a picture of what we hav e
now," I said. "Sev en desks on I lie left side and sev en on the
right, all fourteen facing in the sam e direction, separated
by the aisle in the m iddle."
Then, allowing the folder to drop open like a hatch
door, I rev ealed m y drawing on the other side. "V oila !" I
said. "And here's our sam e office with a total of twenty
desks. Ten on the left, ten on the right, and the sam e aisle
down the m iddle."
I pointed to m y sketch and explained, "The key , y ou
see, is the space betw een the desks. If we place the desks
front to front, facing each other, we elim inate ev ery third
passageway behind the chairs, and it giv es us three m ore
desks on each side."
Esther studied the "After" drawing with suspicion and
counted the rectangles and circles once m ore. "But will we
still hav e the sam e eighteen inches for each chair to m ov e
back and forth?" she asked. I assured her we would, as we
went out to m easure the sales area.
I grabbed the office broom and turned it horizontally
to m easure the depth of a single desk including its chair.
Then I clasped both hands on the broom stick to m ark the
m easurem ent, and, turning the length of the broom back
and forth, back and forth, I m easured and counted off the
im aginary desks as I went. The salespeople looked on,

som e sm iling and others bewildered.

"... eighteen, nineteen, twenty ," I finished, and turned
to Esther and said, "See? They 'll fit. So let's hire those new
people before som eone else does!"
MOM'S LESSON #1 0: There's alway s room for one
m ore.
^
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT GROWING A
BUSINESS
We expanded our com pany m uch like m y parents
expanded their fam ily : When Mom announced, "Eddie,
Fm , pregnant!" Dad brought in another bed. The
Corcoran Group grew from six salespeople to sixty in the
first fiv e y ears, and I learned that the secret to growing a
business quickly is sim ply not waiting until y ou're
"ready ."
1 . Hire great people, and t h en worry about where to
put them .
When I m eet a great person I want to hire, I rarely
hav e the room for them . But when the new person
arriv es, I alway s find a spot. We'v e div ided a conference
room four tim es to squeeze in m ore people, and I div ided
m y own office twice.
Finding a great new person is a lot like finding a
beautiful new dress. If y ou buy the dress, y ou'll find a
hanger to put it on.
2 . Open the next office before y ou're ready .
I alway s open m y next office two y ears too early , while

m y com petitors wait for the "right" tim e to expand. It's an

easier ride to follow the pack into a prov en territory , but
it won't allow y ou to take the early lead and distance
y ourself from the rest.
Com m on wisdom dictates that businesses often fail
because they grow too fast and outstrip their cash flow. I
hav e found that businesses get bigger faster when forced
to run like hell to pum p up their cash flow. Just as it's
nev er really the right tim e to hav e a baby , it's nev er
really the right tim e to open y our next office. For m e,
now alway s prov ed to be the best tim e.
3 . Mov e into a space m uch bigger than y ou need.
Mov ing into a bigger space is the equiv alent of putting
a gun to y our own head. It forces y ou to m ov e faster,
think quicker, and
find a way to pay the rent. With the enorm ous
pressure of increased ov erhead, y ou're forced to double
y our business or die.
With ev ery new office we opened, I m ade a habit of
renting twice the space we actually needed. When I
m ov ed m y first sev en salespeople into an office with
fourteen desks, I had to fill sev en m ore.
In short, if y ou want to grow fast, put a gun to y our
head.
4 . If they ask for a priv ate office, giv e them a phone
booth.
As New York rents clim bed and office space grew
tighter, our indiv idual desk space shrunk from fifty -four

inches to forty -eight inches to thirty -six inches per

person. When our salespeople com plained that our office
had gotten too crowded and noisy , and their negotiations
were no longer priv ate, we answered their need for
priv acy by installing two free phone booths. The phone
booths offered a quiet spot for personal calls and
confidential negotiations, with the added benefit of less
personal tim e wasted on the phone.
Priv ate offices are no good for the sales business
because a sales team 's lifeblood is the free exchange of
inform ation. If y ou're tucked away in a priv ate office,
y ou're sim ply out of the loop. Also, priv acy is expensiv e
and one priv ate office inev itably opens a Pandora's box of
six other staff m em bers wanting the sam e thing.
5. Share an office.
All good salespeople spend m ost of their tim e out of the
office, leav ing latitude for flexible desk arrangem ents.
When offices are shared, inform ation is exchanged and a
lot less tim e gets wasted on m em os, e-m ails, and phone
calls. Most of our top salespeople share offices with their
assistants and/or other salespeople.
For y ears, I shared m y office with Scott Durkin, m y
chief of staff. Hearing m y conv ersations throughout the
day enabled him to execute m y orders while I was still on
the phone prom ising
them ! Our shared space left absolutely no room for
error, and m ade him such a quick judge of what needed
doing that Scott is now the chief operating officer of the

com pany .
6 . Extend y our territory bey ond its natural borders.
Ev ery good boxer knows that if he's going to pack a
powerful punch, the target's not the face, but a full foot
behind the face. Business lies bey ond ev ery office wall,
and to grab it, y ou need to reach bey ond y our phy sical
space. Here's how our business was able to extend its
reach:
Open houses in som ebody " else's house. After we filled
our conference room s with sales desks and had no room to
m eet our custom ers at the office, we began to use our
"apartm ents for sale" as satellite offices. We were the first
com pany to publish specific property addresses in our
Sunday "open house" adv ertisem ents, and, contrary to
our com petitors' dire predictions, it nev er led to m uggings
and thefts. Instead, we quadrupled the num ber of buy ers
responding to our ads and got to sit on som e lov ely settees
in som e of Park Av enue's m ost expensiv e hom es.
A v irtual office is v irtually free. With ev ery inch of
space filled and ev ery salesperson productiv e, we still
hired. Instead of a desk, we offered the new agents
specialized training, access to our database, and business
cards with the snappy new title of "v irtual agent." As our
v irtual agents operated from their hom es, we sav ed on
office space, phone bills, paper clips, sodas, pens. . .
Referral directors (a.k.a. the ladies who lunch). In
the real estate business, the person who controls the
property controls the m arketplace, and finding a

property to list is often a result of who y ou know. We

widened our com pany 's circle of influence bey ond our
sales force by establishing a second-string sales team
called
the "referral directors." These socially well-connected
wom en introduced us to their friends, so we could secure
the listings of their apartm ents and houses. In return, the
referral directors got a com m ission, a real estate license, a
business card, and part-tim e hours com patible with their
v ery busy social agendas. Our prestige listings
sky rocketed, and the referral fees were negligible when
com pared with the increased com m issions.
7 . Use a big hook to catch a big fish.
Ev en though she had no interest in joining our
com pany , I pursued a top-selling, high-end agent from
another firm by m aking the unconv entional offer that
she could take 1 00 percent of her own com m issions for the
first y ear. I also offered to pay half the cost of a
chauffeured Bentley . She said y es. By hiring her, our
com pany stepped into the high-end m arket, and her car
and driv er becam e a m ov ing billboard for luxury buy ers.
Ov er the next fiv e y ears, the top salesperson from alm ost
ev ery one of m y com petitors joined our firm at our
regular com m ission rate.
We often set boundaries on ourselv es and cause
bottlenecks that cost m oney .
Ev ery business can hire m ore people, open new offices,
and lease bigger spaces before it's ready . It's the only

form ula I know for aggressiv e growth.

As m y cab turned the corner onto Riv erside Driv e, I
decided I'd better plan a v acation for them .
Winter. The side y ard.
"Snow day !" Mom shouted from the liv ing room .
Nothing could com pare to the m ornings wed wake up
and hear Mom s rare pronouncem ent of those m ost
spectacular words. "Snow day " m eant "no school."
We popped out of our beds, jum ped into our plav
clothes, and headed for the front radiator, where Mom
had already set up her snow day station. Our glov es were
already toasting on top of the radiator with our rubber
boots warm ing below. By the front door, Mom had lined
up old cardboard boxes, her biggest cookie pans, a trash
can lid, and any thing else she could dig out of the
basem ent or kitchen that could serv e as a sled. We put on
our boots, glov es, and m ittens, grabbed a 'sled," and Mom
gav e us the once-ov er before pushing us out the door with
her usual "Go play outside!"
Minutes before frostbite set in, we'd rush back in to the
radiator's warm th where Mom , like a pit crew in a car
race, got us in and out in thirty seconds flat. She y anked
off our wet glov es and tossed them on top of the radiator to
dry , giv ing each of us a pair of dry socks to put on our
hands. She pulled off our boots, replaced our wet socks
with dry ones, and sent us back outside. By day 's end, the
sock drawer was em pty .
As traffic couldn't m ake it up or down Riv er Road, Dad

had the day off. too. Mom handed him Mary Jean and
said, "Ed, take a dish-pan and fill it with snow for Tom m y .
He's fev erish, and I'll help him m ake snowballs inside."
After taking Tom m y a dishpan of snow, Dad packed a
snowdrift hard against the front retaining wall that
separated our y ard from the sidewalk. He dragged his
two-story wooden ladder up to the v ery
end of our backy ard, the part that m erged into the
cliff behind our house.
"HEY, KIDS!" Dad y elled down, holding the ladder in
place against the hill. "Hop on!"
We all raced to the top of the hill. "I call front!" Marty
shouted, getting there first and taking the lead rung. The
rest of us clim bed on behind, locking our heels onto the
wooden rungs.
""Oh, ho., y ou don't!" Eddie declared, pushing Marty off
the ladder into the snow. "I'm the oldest, so /get the front."
Marty sprang up in a flash and reached back toward
Eddie, his fist cocked. "Cut it out, boy s!" Dad com m anded.
"Marty , either get on the ladder and hav e som e fun, or
we're leav ing without y ou." Marty pouted into place on a
m iddle rung. "Ready !?" Dad hollered, as we all stared
downhill, clenching the side rails with our hands.
"Yes!" we y elled in unison. Dad jostled the ladder side to
side as though he were losing control.
"Are y ou sure y ou're ready ?" he taunted.
"Yes. Oh y es!" we pleaded back, ov erwhelm ed with
anticipation.

"Then get going!" And with a quick shov e, Dad jum ped
on the back of the ladder and sent it lunging forward, zero
to sixty in less than a second!
We scream ed a Palisade's Am usem ent Park scream as
we zipped through the side y ard, hurtling down toward
Undercliff Av enue. We were picking up speed as we sailed
toward the six-foot cinder-block retaining wall at the
bottom . The front riders shrieked as their half of the
ladder went airborne and m om entarily waited for the
back half to catch up.
Then, all at once, we shot off the ledge, sailed ov er the
sidewalk, and thum ped down squarelv in the m iddle of
the street, just behind a lone passing car that was sliding
its way down Undercliff Av enue. We lay in the street, a
jum bled pile of kids laughing until our sides and faces
hurt.
Eddie offered Marty his hand and pulled him up.
"Okay , Marty ,
y ou go first this tim e," he said, and, still laughing,
Eddie and Marty helped Dad lug the ladder back up the
hill.
Mom was changing the sheets in the girls' room when
she spotted us fly ing by the side window. It was our third
trip on Dads death-defy ing ladder, and John caught a
quick glim pse of Mom from the front rung. iC It*s Mom !"
he gasped and pointed, as we plum m eted toward the wall.
By the tim e we hit the street, Morn had barreled
through the house, was down the steps, and had her face

within two inches of Dads. I noticed her blue slippers were

soaked and, from what I could see, she looked cold and she
sure looked angry . "Eddie!" she scream ed. "Eddie, y ou
hav e no com m on sense, absolutely none! Get the kids off
the ladder NOW before y ou kill them ," she seethed, "or I
swear, Eddie, 1 1 1 kill y ou!"
We cupped our socked hands ov er our m ouths to choke
back our laughter, until Dad leaked out his Cheshire cat
sm ile. When we all exploded into a fit of laughter, ev en
Mom began to laugh, and we knew for sure we had the
best fam ily in town.
1 9 82 . Snow day Whaley Lake.
"Ice-skating?r Esther repeated. "But I don't know how
to skate!"
"That's just it," I told her. "Nobody does. But ev ery body
will when they get there!"
I had just bought m y first house, for $7 5,000, a nineroom fixer-upper on Whaley Lake in Dutchess County .
The house had six bedroom s, six bathroom s, two cabanas,
two boathouses, and absolutely no land. My purchase was
the classic case of buy ing "the biggest house on the worst
block." Twelv e y ears later, I would sell it for . . . $7 5,000.
"I hav e the whole weekend figured out, Esther," I
continued, explaining m y plans for our first com pany
retreat. "I bought twenty
pairs of ice skates for ev ery one, all in different sizes:
white ones for the ladies and som e black ones for the m en.
I also bought four sleds, eight sleeping bags for those who

won't get beds, and twenty pairs of cheap wool m ittens."

"Ch ea p?" Esther interrupted. "Nothing about this
sounds cheap to m e."
I dism issed Esther's look of concern with a quick wav e
of m y hand, and continued, "And I'v e talked m y brother
Tee into catering the whole weekend!"
"Tee? But isn't that brother a cabdriv er?" she asked
with growing concern.
"Yeah, but he got his weekend shift cov ered and he's
bringing Judy Som ebody , one of the other cabdriv ers,
and he say s she's a really good cook." Esther tilted her
head.
"It'll all work out just fine," I went on. "And I got a great
deal on a school bus to take ev ery body up on Friday
night. We'll leav e here around sev en, and when we get
there, the table will already be elegantly set, the flowers
arranged, a fire burning, and a luscious m eal will await
us." I waited to see if Esther could picture it. "And after a
great night's sleep, we'll all get up, eat a big breakfast,
and hav e all day Saturday for ice-skatingand all day
Sunday , too! We'll leav e on Sunday around six and be
back to the city no later than eight, eight-thirty the
latest."
Esther looked pale.
We opened our ey es Saturday m orning to a crisp, icy cold day The night before had been just perfect. The bus
showed up on tim e, the dinner was truly gourm et, and
while we ate and drank, we talked about what our office

needed, what we all wanted, and what we all dream ed

about doing together. We cam e up with a flurry of new
ideas, so 1 grabbed a piece of junk m ail and jotted them
down. I starred som eone's idea to produce a Corcoran
Repor t strictly on new condom inium prices. I liked it
because we had nev er sold a condom inium
and I wanted to get into that m arket. Then, like kids at
a giani slum ber party , we clim bed into our beds and
sleeping bags and fell asleep.
By 0:00 a .m . on Saturday , we had finished breakfast
and were all sitting on the boathouse ledge, juggling sizes
and putting on our skates. Despite her inhibitions, Esther
laced up first and desperately clung to the boathouse
wall.
"You look like a natural ov er there, Esther," I joked,
and chinned in her direction. ""Now, hurry up,
ev ery body , we don't want to keep Dorothy Ham ill
waiting!"
Although this would be m y first skate on Whaley Lake,
it sure looked like the kind of lake y ou'd want to skate on.
It was one m ile long, a half m ile wide, and frozen ov er as
far as I could see.
Ron Rossi, our leading salesperson, glided out onto the
ice. He was resplendent in a one-piece Bogner snowsuit
with m atching chartreuse glov es. His ensem ble's
finishing touch was a long m agenta and y ellow Herm es
scarf, which floated behind him as he pushed off the
boathouse wall. In a prev ious life, Ron had been a world

cham pion ballroom dancer, and from the looks of his first
spin, we suspected he had been on the ice before.
"Follow Ron!" I gushed, and like ducklings doing their
first waddle, we all got behind Ron as he dem onstrated a
large figure eight. After a few hundred falls, Ron had us
looping large figure eights back and forth, back and forth,
farther and farther out onto the ice. Esther stav ed behind
practicing her glide close to shore.
We were alm ost to the m iddle of the lake when I
noticed we had attracted an audience on the shore.
Squinting m y ey es against the sun, I recognized the m an
in front of the old Gloy de's Motel as Old Man Gloy de
him self. He was wav ing to us, and I wav ed back with
enthusiasm . He shouted, "That's nice, that's nic el"
"Th ank s!" I acknowledged in the loudest v oice I could
m uster. "Watch t h i s! 9 And with a quick tap of m y right
toe. I turned m v left foot and went into m y best am ateur
v ersion of a twirl. I m ade a point of holding m y hands
straight out with pinkies up, just like Ron had taught us.
Mr. Gloy de seem ed to like m y twirl because he wav ed
ev en m ore v igorously , y elling again, "That's nice, th at's n
i c e!"
I was thinking about attem pting a pretty pirouette,
when I noticed Esther standing up on the boathouse ledge.
She was wav ing just like Mr. Gloy de. When I heard the
ice creak and begin to m oan, it hit m e. "Nice" wasn't
"nice"it was "ice." "Thin i c el Th in i c e/" And we were
skating on it!

"Let's get the h e l l out of here!" I scream ed, and the

entire Corcoran Group shrieked in unison as the ice under
our skates began to crack. Our panicked feet raced toward
the shore, ev ery m an for him self, as the splitting ice
chased us from behind. What could hav e only been two
m inutes at the m ost felt like a ten-m ile run.

We all groped at Esther's legs as we clam bered up onto

the boat-house floor. We were huffing and puffing from
our near-death experience. "You okay ? You okay ? You
okay ?" we chorused, as we scanned each other's faces. I
looked around at m y nineteen exhausted speed skaters,
pulled off m y hat, and started to laugh. With that, the
whole boathouse rocked with laughter and I knew we had
just becom e the best team in town.
MOM'S LESSON #1 1 : Go play outside.
DAD'S BEST LESSON: Fun is fun.
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT HAVING FUN
Conducting business as usual alway s results in usual
business, but play ing together creates extraordinary
business.
Our weekend away at Whaley Lake not only built
cohesiv eness, it also m ade a com m unity out of twenty
v astly different personalities, and I instantly recognized
that if we continued to play together, we could becom e
the strongest com pany in town.
This is what I'v e learned about hav ing fun:
1 . Happy people work better.
It 's hard to leav e good feelings back on the play ing
field. Inev itably , they find their way back to the office.
2 . Fun m akes people laugh, and y ou can't help but like
som eone who's laughing.
People like each other better while they 're play ing.
Play ing together unites differences and breaks down
barriers between people. It's also the best cleanser for bad

feelings, old grudges, and ill will.

3 . Only in the context of fun do people ^et the chance
to see their colleagues bey ond their usual work roles.
Fun lets people get to know their colleagues better,
learn about their fam ilies, their kids, and where they 're
from . By socializing, people discov er other com m on
grounds bey ond the workplace.
4 . Play ing is the best way to bring riv als together.
Strong salespeople are free agents, independent by
nature, and often don't naturally m ake good team m ates.
But allow two riv als to v ent their com petitiv eness in a
spirited gam e, and they becom e a team .
5. If y ou want good ideas for the office, go play outside.
All of our best new business ideas were thought of
while outside the officeour adv ertising cam paigns, our
publicity ideas, office perks, and whole new way s of doing
business. The things we discov ered while play ing outside
were all brought back to the office, like free m assages and
m anicures, free soft drink coolers, Ping-Pong tables, and
y oga classes. Play ing outside alway s offers a fresh
perspectiv e and alway s stim ulates new ideas.
TIPS FOR PLANNING GOOD FUN
1 . Play on com pany tim e.
Most salespeople subscribe to the "Make it while y ou
can" philosophy and run them selv es ragged try ing to do
so. Planning for fun during com pany tim e giv es the
salespeople perm ission to take a day off and to do it
without guilt.

One of our m ost successful annual sales m eetings was

scheduled to last three hours. But ten m inutes into the
m eeting, I surprised ev ery one by inv iting them next door
into a priv ate m ov ie theater where together we watched
the inspiring m ov ie Pay It Forward.
Ev en our m anagem ent retreats are scheduled during
the workweek. They get three day s away from the office
at a luxury resort, and they com e hom e with a tan,
deepened friendships, renewed energy , and new ideas for
the business. And while they 're away , were able to
discov er new m anagem ent talent because other
salespeople step up to the plate acting as substitute
m anagers.
2 . Surprise them !
Our com pany quickly outgrew the sleepov ers at the
Whaley Lake house. When I bought the next house, the
sm allest house
on the best block with a lot of Land, we began to bus
two hundred, three hundred, then four hundred people
up for m idweek picnics. At our first picnic, there was a
sixty -foot hot-air balloon waiting in the backy ard to giv e
ev ery one a ride. We form ed cheering and rescue squads
when we faked a few problem s in getting the balloon back
down. Our salespeople had the sam e thrill as we did as
kids when m y dad jostled the wooden ladder beneath us
on top of the hill.
One y ear, a fiv e-thousand-pound elephant and a
spitting cam el waited on the front lawn to giv e safari

rides, and y et another y ear, we leased ten Thoroughbreds

in full gear and ev ery one got to run them up and down
the back fields.
Perhaps the best surprise was the y ear ev ery one
arriv ed to find that there was no surprise! An hour later,
with hundreds of people picnicking on blue-checked
blankets, a m otorcy cle gang of tattooed guy s dressed in
black leather and chains roared up onto the lawn,
rev v ing their engines and circling the frightened crowd. I
jum ped up and indignantly shouted. "You're on priv ate
property ! Leav e-or I swear 1 1 1 call the police!" As
som eone ran to call 9 1 1 , one of the bikers rem ov ed his
helm et and rev ealed that "he" was really a "she'' with a
big sm ile, bright blue ey es, and long blond hair. The gang
turned out to be m y sister Mary Jean and her born-again
Christian m otorcy cle club that cam e all the way from
Pennsy lv ania to "crash" our party .
"So," I asked m y shocked guests, "who wants a ride?
People m ost resistant to fun need it the m ost.
People som etim es resist fun sim ply because they 'v e
nev er had it. All they need is a little encouragem ent. Our
m ost proper Park Av enue ladies were the first to hike up
their skirts and hop on the back of the Harley -Dav idsons.
They blissfully roared up and down the back roads,
clutching their pearls as tight as they held on to the
driv ers.
4 . Change keeps fun fresh.
When our com pany outgrew picnics at m y house, we

inv ented new way s to keep the party going. Instead of

corporate Christm as parties, we began a tradition of
"February Sweetheart Parties." In real estate, as in m any
other businesses, February is the slowest, m ost depressing
m onth of the y ear, and it's the m onth when people need to
party the m ost. Also, since few parties are planned in
February , the best places in town are av ailable at the
cheapest rates.
5. Them es m ake team s.
Our first black-tie Sweetheart Party took place in an
abandoned warehouse in Queens. My guests' adrenaline
started pum ping when they were greeted by a huge m an
holding a gun in the graffiti-cov ered industrial elev ator.
The elev ator opened into a ten-thousand-square-foot
warehouse m y brother Tee (cabdriv er turned caterer)
had transform ed into a speakeasy .
Ev ery y ear, people eagerly look forward to the
announcem ent of the February party 's them e. When the
them e was "Div a or Drag," m en and wom en cross-dressed
for the occasion and laughed about it for m onths to com e.
We held our "Stars on Broadway " party in a theater on
Forty -second Street, and a few day s before the party , we
took our m anagers to rum m age through the city 's largest
costum e shop in search of perfect star costum es. Our
wardrobe outing turned out to be a party in itself. The
m om ent I opened the party as Carol Channing lipsy nching "Hello, Dolly ," the party was a success.
When the them e was "The Glam orous Forties," I

trom ped through ev ery costum e shop in New York try ing
on and rejecting a series of 1 9 4 0s ball gowns because they
were just what people expected m e to wear. Still without
an outfit on the m orning of the party , I spotted a
cardboard box m arked "Girdles" in a Greenwich Village
drag queen shop. Fiv e hours later, I walked
into the glam orous Rainbow Room high atop
Rockefeller Plaza wearing a 1 9 4 0s girdle and 4 6 -double-D
bra stuffed with two softballs. seam stockings, and an ice
pack pinned to m y head. As a "1 9 4 0s wom an with a
m orning-after hangov er," I was the belle of the ball.
6 . Fun alway s follows the leader.
I n m y 1 9 4 0s costum e, I got m ore kisses and gropes
from m v salespeople and em ploy ees than I got in the last
ten y ears of m y m arriage. My insanity m ade the gossip
colum ns, and, m ost im portant, I m ade a big deposit in our
com pany loy alty bank sim ply because I was sm art
enough to be stupid.
7 . Make the party a m adm an's plan.
Fun isn t logical. Fun happens when y ou take people
out of their norm al routine and drop them into an
abnorm al circum stance. When I'm dream ing up a new
fun idea, I think of m y self as a half-m ad scientist in a
well-stocked laboratory m ixing up the potions. I take a
little of this and a little of that and try to create
som ething entirely new.
8. Take a few chances.
Fv e often been surprised by what happened during

com pany fun, but Fv e nev er been disappointed. Making

real fun is a cross between good planning and taking a
leap of faith. Taking the leap of faith creates the
spontaneity that the best things happen. When m v
brother Tee and his cabby friend Judy cooked for our first
ice-skating party their delicious food and am azing
presentation gav e birth to a successful new catering
business. The chances were m uch better that their food
would be a disaster rather than be exceptional. But it
prov ed that harebrained schem es often lead to great
discov eries.
9 . Snap som e pictures.
You double the pleasure of com pany play tim e by
taking pictures. A photo is nothing short of an ev erlasting
echo of a really good tim e, and proof that, y es, the boss did
com e to the party wearing only a girdle.
Stella's baggy , saggy ey es glaring at us from behind
her chenille curtains. "She's got her broom ! Run for y our
liv es!" Stella opened the window and threw her broom at
us like a jav elin, and we took off across the tin roof.
"Follow m e!" Tim m y Tom squawked, his skinny legs
running ahead of him across the roof. Like a superhero,
he leapt into the air, landing m idway up the cliff that
clim bed dram atically behind the Harrison house.
"Psstt In here!" he beckoned, opening the tiny window
in the old shed behind their house. I jum ped off the roof
with Kathy Harrison, Janet Cleary , Michael Mertz, and
m y brother Tee following. We scurried through the

window and dropped into the cool, shadowy corner of the

Harrisons' old shed.
We were huffing and puffing, our little hearts racing.
"Oh, m y gosh," I gulped leaning against the inside wall.
"Did y ou see her ey es? They were glowing as red as her
cherries!" A few beam s of light streaked through the
windows, splashing light ov er the contents of the shed.
"Wh a t 's t h a t ?' I gasped at the giant hulking structure
loom ing abov e us, twice as tall as any of our heads.
"That's Charlie's boat,'' Tim m y Tom explained, "He's
been building it in here with his own hands since I was
three. He said he's gonna sail away on that boat."
"It's beautiful!" Janet Cleary gushed as she caressed the
bottom of the boat, feeling its sm ooth, shiny wood. The
boat ran from one end of the shed to the other.
"Hey , let's get in," I said, already clim bing the ladder.
"Be careful!" Michael Mertz warned. "It m ight be
dangerous."
"Are y ou a scaredy cat. Michael Mertz?" I taunted.
"I'm not scared of nothing," he said, following m e up.
One by one we clim bed up the ladder onto the deck of
Charlie's boat and then stepped down below into its cabin.
Though unfinished, the boat was already outfitted with
tin kitchenware and two blue blankets. "This will be our
new clubhouse!" I declared. It was clearly the greatest
clubhouse in the world. "Who wants to join?" Ev ery one
raised their hands. "It's our secret clubhouse," I said.
"Only us and no one else can know. Understand?"

Ev ery one nodded their heads. "We'll hav e to seal the

secret. Michael Mertz, v ou first."
"W hadda I gotta do. Barbara Ann?" he asked.
"Show us y our heinie," I said. Without blinking.
Michael Mertz dropped his pants, and as the light poured
into the cabin of our new clubhouse, we all stared at
Michael Mertz's little white eight-y ear-old behind.
After four m ore sets of cheeks were shown. I declared
the first m eeting of the "Showing Heinies Club"" officially
ov er.
"Tom orrow at noon," I whispered as we all clim bed out
of the boat, "and don't tell any one, not any oneV I felt I
m ight be doing som ething wrong and figured with a m om
like Mom , I didn't want to get caught.
On the fifth day of our Showing Heinies Club, fiv e
pairs of white cheeks were shining like harv est m oons
when the shed door swung open.
"It's Charlie!" I whispered, as we all squatted down,
paraly zed and exposed.
"Who's up there?" Charlie hollered. "I know som ebody 's
in there." The boat sat quiet, fiv e naked behinds
m om entarily frozen in tim e. Then the boat rocked in its
wooden cradle as all of us scram bled to pull up our pants.
"Who's in there?" Charlie dem anded.
I grabbed a m etal plate and fork and banged a few of
Charlie's tin Colem an pots around, try ing to m ake as
m uch noise as possible to disguise the sounds of snapping
buttons and zipping zippers. "We're m aking spaghetti,

Charlie," I shouted, "just m aking spaghetti."

One bv one, fiv e guilty faces popped ov er the edge of
the boat and peered down at the old blond Swede. "It's just
m e." Tim m y Tom peeped. "And m e." "And m e." "And m e."
"And m e," the rest of the fanny fiv e adm itted.
"Making spaghetti, huh?*' the old Swede said. "All
right, but be careful in there. I'm going to sail away in
that boat at the end of the sum m er."
On the eighth day of the Showing Heinies Club, we
were right in the m iddle of Michael Mertz's turn when we
heard m y m om 's v oice outside the shed. "What are the
kids doing in there, Charlie?" Mom asked. We all held our
breath.
"Oh, they 're fine, Mrs. Corcoran," he told her. "They 're
just m aking spaghetti."
"Nope, Charlie," she said. "When the clubhouse is quiet,
they 're nev er m aking spaghetti!" With that, she barged
into our clubhouse, grabbed m e and Kathy Harrison with
one hand, told Michael to pull up his pants, and sent
ev ery body hom e.
Sum m er 1 9 83 . Monday -m orning m eeting. The
Corcoran Group.
We were right in the m iddle of a long, hot sum m er in
New York. City streets and tem pers alike steam ed in the
high tem peratures. Our salespeople were happy to return
to our air-conditioned office between showings, and this
Monday m orning they were all at their desks for our
regular sales m eeting, sipping the iced lem onade I had

substituted for coffee. I took a deep breath, bracing m y self

to do what I had carefully planned to do.
Ev ery one at The Corcoran Group knew the com pany
listing policy , which I had established at our first sales
m eeting. Our "share and share alike" policy required that
salespeople post all new listings in our office files within
one hour of getting the listing. Our policy was understood
and welcom ed, as it set us apart from the other firm s'
"ev ery m an for him self" practice. Their salespeople often
pocketed special listings for their special custom ers,
keeping them secret from the coworkers they v iewed as
com petitors. In contrast, we shared our listings. At least,
that was the idea.
Two sum m ers earlier, Elaine had joined our com pany
and quickly becom e our single best lister. She was
French, quiet, and spent m ost of her tim e outside our
office, rarely sharing a word with her associates. When
she was in the office, her only activ ity was opening her
m iddle drawer, exchanging papers from her brown
leather briefcase, and scurry ing out, her ey es darting
from side to side.
Ov er the past m onth. Elaine's listing num bers had
dwindled and in the last week, she had not added a single
new listing to the com pany files. Paranoia was creeping
into our happy group, and the warm "Hello I had
extended to Elaine that m orning had been returned with
a quick dart of her blue-ev e-linered ev es to the left. I had
had enough.

"Good m orning, ev ery one! I began as usual.

"Good m orning. Barbara.'' the salespeople replied.
"Today Id like to start our m eeting by rev iewing our
listing policy . I said. 'One of the differences between our
firm and the others is that we share and share alike. We
work hard and we play fair. Id like to reiterate our policy
that all new listings m ust be posted for ev erv one within
one hour of getting the property . I want to rem ind
ev ery one again that 'pocket listings' won't be tolerated.
Does any one hav e anv new listings they want to put in
the listing card files today r
Thev shook their heads no, including Elaine.
"How about y ou. Elaine?' 1 1 asked as I walked ov er to
her desk. "Would v ou hav e any listings to add to our
com pany file today ?
"Non, " she replied.
"Okay ," I said. "Would y ou m ind opening y our second
drawer?"
"Nothing ees in dey 're," she protested. "Juste old
papers.
"You'll hav e to excuse m e then, Elaine, while I look at
y our old files,*' I said, opening her drawer and rem ov ing
the rubber-banded pile of papers, chock-full of listing
inform ation. I pulled out the top paper from the rest and
read it aloud to the room : "Could any one tell m e if we
hav e Apartm ent 4 B at 6 0 Sutton Place South listed for
$3 4 0,000?" Ev ery one shook their heads a tense, slow no.
"It sounds nice." I continued, it's a two-bedroom , two-bath

with a terrace!
"How about Apartm ent 1 2 D at 1 06 5 Park?" Again
they signaled no. I quickly flipped through the thirty or
so sheets, each with a different address. Then I confronted
Elaine's bright ev e-linered
ey es and asked, "Elaine, is there any reason y ou
hav en't put these listings in our com pany files?"
Her lips quietly m outhed "Non. "
"Pack y our things," I leaned down and whispered into
her ear. "And if y ou don't m ind, I'll keep these."
We all watched as Elaine quickly shov ed her desk
accoutrem ents into her brown briefcase and huffed out of
the office door.
The m om ent the door closed, the whole office erupted
in cross-chatter, a m ix of astonishm ent and relief. I took
the pile of Elaine's papers and dealt them out like a
blackjack dealer.
I had caught Elaine with her pants down and in the
process charted a m oral course for our com pany 's future.
MOM'S LESSON #1 2 : When the clubhouse is quiet,
they 're probably not m aking spaghetti.
4 fe
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT SMELLING TROUBLE
My police action with Elaine that m orning becam e
folklore, and in the y ears that followed ev ery new
salesperson heard "The Tale of the Pocket Listing Lady ."
When som eone is uncharacteristically quiet y ou can
be sure they are up to no good. They 're either stirring up

trouble, picking y our pocket, or packing their bags. A

m anager's job is to speak up, shake up, and bring a
troublem aker out of hiding. He'll m anage to pull up his
pants, if y ou knock on his door.
Donald Trum p, who built a billion-dollar real estate
em pire with sham eless self-prom otion and sheer
chutzpah, was the best-known businessm an in the city
and his nam e was sy nony m ous with ev ery thing people
both lov ed and hated about New York. Mr. Trum p's latest
enterprise
was a
sixty -eight-story
black
glass
condom inium next door to Tiffany 's on the corner of Fifty sev enth and Fifth, where the old Bonwit Teller used to
stand. He was billing his new "Trum p Tower" as "The Most
Expensiv e Address in the World." Only in New York could
"m ost expensiv e" be a badge of honor, and The Donald
wore it with pride. I wanted the "Corcoran Group" nam e
to scream New York real estate as loudly as "Trum p" did.
And I had a plan.
Ou r Top 1 0 Condo Report didn't list Trum p's trophy
property in first place, second, or ev en third. The sales
data I had collected relegated his highest-priced sale to
fourth position behind Museum Tower, Oly m pic Tower,
and The Galleria, Trum p's m ain riv als in town.
Though I'd nev er m et Mr. Trum p, I knew m y latest
report would sizzle in his hands. Within an hour, he called
m e.
Cheerleading try outs. High school.
I finished the Holy Rosary School in Edgewater as a

charity "D" student. After m y special reading class with

Sister Stella Marie in second grade, school only got worse.
After graduation from eighth grade, the Catholic kids
with the good grades went to the Catholic high schools,
while ev ery body else bused two towns ov er to the public
school in Leonia.
I was shocked when an acceptance letter from St.
Cecilia's Catholic High School arriv ed at the end of eighth
grade. I thought they 'd put the right slip in the wrong
env elope. A chance at St. Cecilia's seem ed like the first
light at the end of a long, dark school tunnel. I prom ised
m y parents and m y self that at m y new school I would do
a lot better.
On m y first day at St. Cecilia's, the hom eroom teacher
asked m e to be our student council representativ e. He
picked m e because
1 07
Corcoran started with C. I sat in the second seat behind
Maureen Beckm an. whose nam e started with a B, but she
had already left when the bell rang. He handed m e a list
of questions to poll and collect the opinions of the other
hom eroom kids. The surv ey gav e m e the opening I needed
to befriend m y new classm ates.
I was well on the road to popularity at St. Cecilia's
when I flunked algebra, history 7 , and Latin, and just as
Dad warned, I was taking the bus up the hill for m y
sophom ore y ear at the public high school in Leonia. I had
blown m y one chance to be som ebody .

I looked up at the notice posted on the big bulletin

board hanging outside the Leonia High School gy m :
HeeF4 -e/u> ep. tfy outs
? to 5 P.M. IN TH6 &YM
It was obv ious in m y first two weeks at m y new school
that the popular girls were all from Leonia, not from
Edgewater. And the r e a l l y popular ones were the
cheerleaders. They were pretty , they had nice clothes,
and they were alway s surrounded by guy s. They were
ev ery thing I was not and wanted to be.
That's it! I said to m y self looking at the poster. Vm
taking the fast road to popularity ! I printed m y nam e on
the sign-up sheet in the 4 :4 5 Thursday spot.
I pushed open the heav y m etal door of the large gy m
and realized it didn't look any bigger than the gy m at St.
Cecilia's. A cafeteria table was set up at the far end below
the basketball hoop, and I
noted the backboard abov e it said "aw ay ." I thought it
m ight be a bad sign.
Three wom en sat behind the table. I figured they were
the judges. I recognized one as the gy m teacher and
guessed the other two wom en were probably teachers,
too. Six cheerleaders were huddled in a sideline giggle,
looking like burgundy -and-gold best friends. I clicked m y
way across the polished floor to center court. When the
cheerleaders built a perfect py ram id, I panicked,
wondering if I was expected to know how to build a
py ram id, too.

"Nam e please," the gy m teacher asked.

"Hi, I'm Barbara." I wav ed. "And I hav e an
appointm ent for a four forty -fiv e try out."
"Yes, Miss Corcoran," the wom an said, checking her
clipboard. "Please rem ov e y our shoes." I took off m y
loafers, set them next to m e, and faced the panel of judges
in m y stocking feet. I wished I had brought m y sneakers.
Ev ery one turned their attention to m e, including the
py ram id, which quickly toppled and form ed a perfect line
to watch.
"Okay , then," the gy m teacher said.
"Okay , what?" I asked.
"Let's see y our cheer."
"What cheer?"
"Whichev er cheer y ou choose."
That's when I realized I wasn't prepared. Not only did I
not know a cheer, I hadn't ev er ev en seen a Leonia cheer. I
had to think fast. I figured the nam e they probably liked
best was "Leonia." It was also the safest word for m e to
spell. So I spread m y legs in an official cheerleader-ty pe
stance, puffed out m y chest, shov ed m y fists into m y hips,
and began:
"Giv e m e an LF I shouted.
Silence.
"L/" I shouted back to m y self, throwing m y right arm
and leg out to the side.
"Giv e m e an /..'
* E t * I answered. Not knowing what part to use, I

swung m y arm and leg like a windm ill in the other

direction.
When 1 finally m ade it to the "And what does it spell?"
part, ev en I didn't answer.
I dropped m y arm s, sm iled m y best cheerleader-ty pe
sm ile, raising m y lower lip to cov er m y ov erbite, and felt
the red blotches begin to form on m y chest.
'Thank y ou," the teacher said, as she drew a line on her
clipboard.
I felt like an absolute idiot \ I wished the floor could
hav e swallowed m e up! I gav e a quick nod to the
cheerleading squad and finally m ov ed m y legs and
walked out of the gy m .
Sitting in the back of the late-afternoon bus, I tried to
engrav e the faces of the six cheerleaders in m y m ind. I
felt really bad about hating them , but knew I'd spend the
next three y ears av oiding them between classes. The bus
dropped m e off on top of Hilliard Av enue, and I found
Mom outside on the Roanes' landing, hanging diapers out
to dry . She pinned the corners two at a tim e and listened
to m y tale of woe.
"... And if that wasn't bad enough, Mom ," I explained,
blinking back the m oisture in m y ey es, "I left m y loafers
in center court and had to go back and walk in front of
ev ery one to get them !
Mom clipped her last diaper to the line, gav e m e a wry
sm ile, and said, "Well, Barbara Ann, next tim e y ou try
out for cheerleading, y ou better know the cheers."

"Well, how obv ious!" I snapped. "That's really , really

helpful Mom !" and with a quick look of indignation, I
stom ped into the house and ran up to the new girls room
on the third floor. The four girls had m ov ed into the third
floor of our house when Aunt Ethel and Uncle Herbie
retired to Tom s Riv er and m ov ed out.
I reached under m y m attress to where I stashed m v
new box of filtered Parliam ents, and lit a cigarette.
Meeting the King. Trum p Tower. 1 9 85.
I knew I wouldn't com prom ise m y Top 1 0 Condo Report
by changing any facts. But I also knew Mr. Trum p would
be outraged by his lowly ranking, and I didn't want m y
report to alienate an industry figure as powerful as Mr.
Trum p. So I had spent the weekend working the num bers
ev ery which way , and had figured out a way to do both.
Once I found a solution, I practiced a routine on how to
deliv er it at least a dozen tim es. I stood in the elev ator of
Trum p Tower with m y heart racing, but m y confidence
intact.
The elev ator doors opened into a reception area bigger
than The Corcoran Group s entire office and backdropped
with floor-to-ceiling v iews of Central Park. I stood in m y
new red suit atop all of New York.
A drop-dead gorgeous receptionist sat at the far end at
a burled-wood desk. She was answering the phone. "Good
m orning, the Trum p Organization,'* she said in a
continuous loop. She was say ing it with a lot m ore
im portance than I had ev er been able to m uster up for

"Good m orning, Giffuni Brothers." I m ade m y way ov er to

her desk and stood waiting to say hello. She looked to m e
like a beauty pageant queen, the kind y ou see on TV.
"Hi," I finally interrupted, offering m y hand across her
desk. "I'm Barbara Corcoran and I hav e an appointm ent
with Mr. Trum p.*'
She didn't look up, but lilted into an intercom , 'Bahrbruh Cohr-krun here to see Mr. Trum p.'' Another beauty
queen instantly appeared to escort m e down a long woodpaneled hall. There y et another beauty queen asked that
I follow her down another hall and passed m e on to
another wom an who, unlike the others, looked like the
kind of wom an who could get som e work done.
"Hello," she said with authority . "I'm Louise Sunshine.
We spoke on the phone. If y ou'll wait here, I'll see if he's
ready " She cracked a
se1 of gigantic doors, stepped inside, and closed the
doors behind her.
I thought about m y new Top 1 0 Condo Report. As it
was custom ary in New York to refer to apartm ents based
on their sales price, m y report ranked the top-ten-selling
condos from the highest to the lowest sale price. I had
pulled the figures from the Yale Robbius Condo Report and
had also cross-checked each sale against the city 's transfer
files to m ake sure m y num bers were absolutely correct.
A few m om ents later, the doors opened. "Mr. Trum p
will see y ou now." the wom an announced, as she opened
the doors and inv ited m e into an office the size of an

aircraft carrier.
Mr. Trum p was seated behind a landing strip of a desk
flanked by a panoram ic v iew T of Central Park. She
gestured toward the two leather chairs positioned in front
of his desk and announced, "Mr. Trum p, this is Barbara
Corcoran.''
I walked ov er and extended m y hand. When Mr.
Trum p took m y hand. I filed it in m y m em ory as the
wim piest handshake of all tim e. "I r eally appreciate y our
coining ov er,'' he cordially said, sizing m e up and
whisking his puffed blond helm et to the side. "Hav e a seat.
Before I reached the seat, he began, "I got y our report
and I don't agree with it. Your inform ation is totally
incorrect because there's sales data on Trum p Tower y ou
don't hav e access to.
As prepared as I thought I was, I was startled by his
opening m ov e. I felt m y palm s getting sticky . "Oh,
really ," I said politely , "and just what inform ation is that,
Mr. Trum p?"
He leaned forward into the intercom that sat on the
left corner of his desk and barked. "Norm a! Bring m e
those condom inium num bers! " The giant doors opened
and a June Cleav er look-alike floated in. plunked a thick
folder on Mr. Trum p's otherwise clean desk, and floated
out. He puckered his lips, opened the file, and leaned back
in his chair. "If y ou'll take the tim e to look at these recent
num bers.'' he em phasized, "it will be obv ious to y ou that
Trum p Tower belongs at the top of y our list!" He pushed

the file in m y direction, just out of reach.

I tried to m ov e m y chair closer to His Majesty 's to get a
peek at the num bers, but m y chair wouldn't m ov e. I stood
up, took one
giant step forward, opened the file, scanned the ty ped
colum ns of sale prices, and recognized the inform ation as
the sam e data I had already used. So far, so good, I
thought, knowing I had regained m y footing.
"Mr. Trum p," I said, "I'm pleased to say that each of
these transactions was already i n c l u d e d in m y
calculation." I sm iled at him . "But I sure do appreciate
y our sharing them with m e, sir."
Mr. Trum p pursed his lips and bellowed into his
intercom . "Marsha! Bring y our calculator and com e in
here!" When the big doors parted again, an Iv ana lookalike entered and strode across the floor in v a-v oom s to
Mr. Trum p's desk. Va-v oom , v a-v oom , v a-v oom . She bent
down, her cleav age ey e lev el with Mr. Trum p, and
entered num bers as he rattled them off. When she cam e
up with the sam e totals I already had, the ones that
placed Trum p Tower squarely in fourth place, Va-v oom
was dism issed.
Mr. Trum p was clearly becom ing m ore frustrated and
barked once m ore at his intercom : "Joe! Get in here! Bring
those Trum p Tower deals we were just talking about this
m orning." Joe m uscled in, a com pact m an in a too-tight
suit. He rem inded m e of Rocky Rocciano, the drum m er I
dated from Garfield High. Joe handed a sheet of paper to

Mr. Trum p and m uscled out. Mr. Trum p nodded, passing

the paper m y way . "Hav e a look at t h ese sales!" he said
glibly .
I surv ey ed the sheet of twenty sale prices, each
belonging to an apartm ent I hadn't seen before. The prices
were m uch higher than the others, and Mr. Trum p
sm irked when he saw the surprise register on m y face. I
shifted in m y seat try ing to get m y routine back on track.
"Could I see the dates on each of these transactions, Mr.
Trum p?" I asked.
To m y relief, he bragged, "They were all sold this
weekend, Barbara! All twenty of them ! I tell y ou, it's
incredible, really incredible!"
"That really i s incredible, Mr. Trum p!" I agreed. "And
if they had closed this weekend, I could hav e included
those sales in m y report."
He winced, and I noticed his hair looked like cotton
candy back-lit by the western sky "Listen," he said,
enunciating each word,
""ev ery one knows that Trum p Tower is the m ost
expensiv e address in the world, and putting any thing else
in y our report is wrong/
The tim e had com e for m y grand finale, the m om ent
to trum p Trum p.
"Mr. Trum p." 1 began, "it's v ery im portant to m e that I
m ake y ou happy ." I spoke slowly . "But I also need to
publish
a t r u t h f u l report. Surely , there m ust be
som ething y ou could think of that would m ake the report

work for both of us."

And then. I m ade the m ov e I had practiced a dozen
tim es the night before. "Wait, wait just a m inute!" I said,
as if a lightbulb had jusl popped on in m y head. I stood up,
walked purposefully around to Mr. Trum p's side of the
desk, and leaned m y forearm on his shoulder. "Lets see," I
said, pointing to the Trum p sale prices in m y report. I
paused a m om ent for dram atic effect. "What if we were to
com pute the prices on a cost per foot basis, instead of the
total sale price like ev ery one else does? I wonder what
that would do?"
I circled the highest-priced sale at Trum p Tower,
which was $3 ,03 3 ,500, div ided it by its 2 ,509 square
feet, and spit out the answer faster than a calculator.
"Why that's one thousand two hundred nine dollars a
square foot!" I concluded, drawing a circle around
Apartm ent 6 2 L and with an arrow m ov ed it straight to
the top of m y "Top 1 0" list. I quickly div ided Trum p's next
two m ost-expensiv e sales by their square footage, circled
those answers, and m ov ed them into second and third
place.
"That's it! You'v e got it!" Trum p enthused. "And I was
just going to suggest it." The King of the Least for the Most
was obv iously pleased. "You know. Barbara, it puts
Trum p Tower exactly where it belongsunm istakably
the Most Expensiv e Address in the World!"
"And it's also honest," I said. I rem ov ed m y arm from
his shoulder, walked back around to the front of his desk,

and offered m y hand. "Thank y ou. Donald." I said. "You're

a brilliant m an and I really appreciate m eeting y ou."
My new best friend stood up. shook m y hand, and said.
"You'll send m e the rev ised copy , won't y ou?
Td be happy to."
"Today ?"
"Sure," I said. Til send it ov er by m essenger this
afternoon."
As the brass-paneled elev ator door shut, I caught the
im age of m e in m y new red suit. I put m y hands on m y
hips, looked straight into m y ey es, and told m y own
reflection to:
"Giv e m eaK/... YT I said.
"Giv e m e an E! . . . ET I said.
"Giv e m e an SI... SF I said.
"What does it spell?"
"YES!" I cheered m y self, thrusting m y fist into the air.
I knew I had m ade the team .
Two day s after the Top 1 0 Condom inium Report was
released to the press, Esther walked into m y office holding
up a copy of the Wall Street Journal. I could read the fullpage ad from where I sat:
TRUMP TOWER
TOPS THE LIST
AS THE MOST
EXPENSIVE ADDRESS
IN THE WORLD! *
The asterisk referenced a bolded footnote at the bottom

of the page. It had the words I m ost hoped to see, "Source:

The Corcoran Report."
The phone rang and I recognized Donald Trum p's v oice
on the other end. "Hello, Barbara. Hav e y ou seen this
m orning's paper?"
"Yes, I hav e. I'm looking at it now."
"Well, how do y ou like it?" he asked with Trum p-sized
confidence.
"I like it a lot," I said, "but I wish y ou could hav e m ade
our nam e a little bigger."
The following Monday , I opened the New York Tim es to
y et another full-page ad.
ACCORDING TO THE CORCORAN REPORT,
TRUMP TOWER IS THE MOST EXPENSIVE ADDRESS
IN THE WORLD!
With equal billing in Trum p's adv ertisem ent, The
Corcoran Group becam e recognized as a m ajor play er in
the New York real estate gam e.
MOM'S LESSON #1 3 : If y ou want to be a cheerleader,
y ou better know the cheers.
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT BEING PREPARED
I'v e nev er m et a sm art person who wasn't
ov erprepared,
and
after
my
cheerleading
em barrassm ent, I swore I would nev er be unprepared
again.
Donald Trum p becam e m y adv ocate sim ply because I
was well prepared. If I hadn't put in the tim e, I couldn't
hav e carried the m eeting off with the confidence that I

did.
1 . Preparation is the birthplace of confidence.
There's just no shortcut to a confident deliv ery . All
good perform ances are a result of great preparation.
2 . Preparation takes tim e.
Showing up without hav ing done the needed
preparation is the equiv alent of leav ing on a long trip
without packing a suitcase. Chances are y ou'll be cold
when y ou get there.
3 . Self-doubt can be y our v ery best friend.
Self-doubt alway s m akes y ou ov erprepare. And when
y ou ov er-prepare, y our success is guaranteed.
4 . There's no such thing as winging it.
Successful people m ight a ppea r to be winging it, but
they only look that way because they 'v e practiced it a
dozen tim es before.
5. Whoev er controls the agenda controls the m eeting.
When y ou prepare the agenda, y ou're in control of 80
percent of the m eeting, because ev ery thing y ou discuss
will be in reaction to y our ideas. A good agenda includes
what y our objectiv e is and all the item s y ou need to
discuss in order to achiev e it.
"/ hav e no doubt Ms. Corcoran's tips on hom e buy ing
will help y ou ..."
It was m y first public speech and I had worked on it for
three weeks, editing ev ery word and rehearsing its
deliv ery ov er and ov er again in m y m ind. With the
Quick and Easy Way to Effectiv e Speaking as m y guide, I

had ty ped the first line of each of m v paragraphs in caps

on separate index cards. I was ready !
". . . So please join m e in welcom ing the president of
The Corcoran Group, Barbara Corcoran!"
The audience broke into applause. I stood up, raised
m v chin to create just the right look of confidence, and
m ade m y way behind the two other chairs to center
st a g e. You are a PRO-fessional speaker! a happy little
v oice in m y head whispered, y ou're a Natural, a real
n a t u r a l! I stepped behind the podium and gracefullv
placed m y left hand on the edge. I took one serious look
down at m y notes, looked up at the audience, flashed m y
best sm ile, and with a quick wav e of m y right hand
chirped, "Hello, there!"
I had decided to open Cosby -sty le with a well-rehearsed
joke. "Did y ou hear the one about the banker who was a
great lov er? 1 began. I leaned into the podium , just as
planned, and waited for the audiences reply . Sixteen
hundred ey es stared back at m e, but not one offered a
response. The little v oice inside m v head encouraged. Go
on, go on, y ou 're doing fine! But som ething in m y heart
m ade m e wonder.
When I realized that the audience was waiting for the
punch line, I decided Yd better giv e them the answer. Oh,
m y God, m y m ind shrieked. What is the punch line? I
quickly looked down at index card #1 . It read, "DID YOU
HEAR THE ONE ABOUT THE BANKER WHO'S A GREAT
LOVER?" That's all. I shuffled the card to the back of m y

deck and sneaked a peek at card #2 . And it read. W IIAT S

YOl R BUDGET?" That's all.
I began to panic and the little v oice inside m y head
began to scream . Why didn't y ou write the answer,
stupid! Jus! think! Say
som ething! Say ANYTHING! No m atter how hard I
tried, I just couldn't rem em ber the punch line. I sm oothed
down the front of m y new red suit, took a big breath, and
decided to m ov e on.
When I looked back down at m y "WHAT'S YOUR
BUDGET?" card, the words had turned blurry . But I knew
the rest of this point any way and started to speak, but
nothing cam e out. I tried to cough and couldn't. I tried
again to speak, m ake a sound, any sound, but I couldn't. I
realized that m y v oice wasn't going to com e out, not
tonight, not any night, not ev er again.
I glanced ov er to the m oderator, and he looked as
scared as I felt. So I turned to the audience and opened m y
m outh as wide as I could. Pointing to the m ute hole, I
slowly shook m y head no. I turned and took what seem ed
to be a v ery long walk back to m y seat.
The m oderator jum ped up and rushed to the
m icrophone. "Okay . . . he said, looking bewildered.
"Thank y ou, Barbara! And we'll be hearing m ore from her
later. Next, I'd like to introduce Citibank's leading
m ortgage specialist . . ."
I spent the rest of the sem inar sitting in m y chair and
num bly staring at the Citibank logo.

I was still burning from public hum iliation as I got

hom e and sank into a hot bath. The night's calam ity
play ed again and again in m y m ind; with each rerun I
grew sm aller and sm aller.
Winter. The kitchen table.
We had been sent hom e that Friday afternoon with
our m idy ear report cards with the Sisters usual
instructions to bring them back Monday m orning along
with our parents signature. We all anxiously waited at
the kitchen table as Dad looked ov er and signed our cards
one bv one.
"That's excellent work, Ellen." He beam ed, looking
down her colum n of A's and signing "Rock Hudson" at the
bottom . Ev ery one laughed and Ellen leaned ov er his
shoulder to hav e a better look. "And y ou did a nice job
there, Tom m y , but let's turn that B in gy m into an A
next tim e." Tom m y danced off through the liv ing room
with Elliott Ness's signature. Awaiting Mr. Corcoran's
signatures had becom e a quarterly ev ent for the St.
Joseph's Sisters at the Holy Rosary School. They alway s
looked forward to the Monday s we brought our signed
report cards back.
"Eddie," Dad continued, shifting his v oice into low
gear, "four F's are two too m any ! Another three m onths'
garbage duty for y ou! Now for y ou, Barbara Ann," Dad
said, as he took m y report card in his hand and I took a
quiet step back toward the refrigerator, "well, at least
y ou're consistent. Straight D's from top to bottom !" All the

kids laughed as Dad handed m e the report card signed by

Pat Boone.
I ran to m y room , jum ped on m y bed, and buried m y
face in the pillow, feeling asham ed to be so stupid.
"Barbara," Mom said as she sat on the edge of m y bed,
"don't be so hard on y ourself, straight D's aren't that bad.
And, besides, Sister Joseph Marie alway s tells m e y ou're
the nicest girl in the whole rlass." I turned m y head to
look at m y m other. "Now," she said, "get y ourself up and
go stand next to Nana and see how big y ou are."
Nana was alm ost four feet eight inches tall, but picked
up another two inches as she trotted around the house in
her ev ery day pum ps. She was standing next to the sofa
and folding towels on the coffee table. Nana's big white
pocketbook, the constant com panion that scraped the
ground as she walked, was looped around her left arm .
"Hi, Nana," I said, "Mom sent m e to see how big I am ."
Nana sm iled as she took off her shoes and turned her back
against m ine.
'Oli, look!" she exclaim ed ov er her shoulder, "y ou're
ev en bigger than last tim e!" I gav e Nana a hug, she put
on her shoes, and I ran out the screen door to go play with
m y friends.
The m orning after m y Citibank debacle, I picked up
the New York Univ ersity Continuing Education circular
from m y desk and called the phone num ber listed on the
back. "I'd like to teach a course," I told the nice wom an at
the school.

"Oh. on what subject?" she asked sweetly .

"A course on what ev ery real estate salesperson should
know," I said, quickly adding, "And I'm m ore than
qualified to teach. I'v e hired and trained m ore than fifty
salespeople, I hav e great m aterial, and I'm also an
excellent speaker!"
"Well, then, why don't y ou subm it a course outline,
and send it to the program office care of Mr. Neil Boffey ,"
she suggested. "If he likes it, he 1 1 pass it along to the
program com m ittee, who m ay approv e it for the sum m er
program ."
I sm iled and put down the phone.
June 1 9 86 . New York Univ ersity .
My sev en students appeared to be a contingent sent
ov er from the United Nations. Just like the rest of New
York, they were a sm orgasbord of different nationalities
and they were all serious about being there. Since m ost of
the seats were em pty , I decided there m ust hav e been a
m ix-up in the room num ber giv en to the students, and
delay ed starting the class. I hoped that another dozen or
so students would be arriv ing late to fill the desks.
"Well begin class in about fiv e m inutes." I announced,
"to giv e the other students a chance to arriv e. But while
we wait, why don't we go around the room and introduce
ourselv es to one another? Please speak up, giv e us y our
nam e first, and then, if y ou'd like, id I m e what y ou hope
to get out of the class ov er the next ten weeks. I listened
and sm iled as the students introduced them selv es.

"Let m e also introduce m y self to y ou. Fm Barbara

Corcoran, president of The Corcoran Group." I took a quick
look down at m y notes and said, " Since it looks tonight as
though we're only going to be sev en, let's begin."
No sooner had I said "sev en," than the door banged
open and a Chinese wom an hurried in. She walked
directly to the center front desk and said to the m an
sitting there, "I want to sit there." The m an looked
confused and started to m ov e.
"There's another seat in the front ov er here," I quickly
interrupted. "And it also has a better v iew of the
blackboard. As ev ery one just finished introducing
them selv es, why don't y ou take a seat and introduce
y ourself to the class."
"Carrie Chiang," she blurted, and then hustled ov er to
the desk on the other side of the room arid plopped herself
down. While I went ov er the classroom rules, she ruffled
through her papers and unpacked her bags.
"I was asked to announce that sm oking and eating in
the classroom are not perm itted, but as six-thirty is m y
dinner hour, y ou're welcom e to bring food, as long as y ou
leav e the room as clean as y ou found it." The wom an
hiding her sandwich looked reliev ed. "You'll find the rest
room s down the hall and we'll be taking a break in about
an hour. Last, I'm pleased to announce that ev ery one will
earn an A for taking this course sim ply because y ou
cam e. Your outline is in front of y ou, so let's get started."
The students seem ed to like m y A idea and sm iled.

The best way to get ov er m y Citibank debacle was to

m ov e on, and I knew I could only do that by practicing
speaking in front of a large group. Although lecturing to
eight students wasn't exactly what I had in m ind, I looked
at the class and figured som e practice was better than no
practice at all.
An hour later, I declared a class break and walked
down the hall to the school cafeteria. I had m ade up m y
m ind to cancel the rem aining nine classes and would
announce it right after the break. Giv ing up three hours
ev ery Monday night for ten weeks ov er the sum m er just
wasn't going to be worth it.
As I reached for the wilted fruit salad, I was startled to
hear m y nam e. "Baa-bwa!" the Chinese wom an called as
she cut into the line and m ade her way toward m e. "Baabwa, y ou know how long I been in business? You know
how long?"
"No, I don't," I answered, picking up a bagel and cream
cheese from the counter. "How long has it been?"
"T'ree m onths," she bragged.
"Three m onths?" I repeated.
"You know how m uch m oney I m ake in t'ree m onths?"
"No, I don't," I said, surprised that som eone would offer
so m uch inform ation so quickly , especially in a crowded
cafeteria line.
"Two, hundred, dousand, dollars!" she bragged, loud
enough for the buzz in the line to com e to a com plete stop.
"I sell only con-dos," she said. "I sell lots of condos!"

"Selling condos?" I said aloud. "How can y ou m ake that

m uch m oney selling only condos?!" I took a closer look at
her, try ing to pick up any thing about her that lacked
credibility . But ev ery thing about her looked like the
genuine article: her blunt-cut, neatly com bed hair, her
solid gold choker, her well-tailored sweater set with three
buttons open and three buttons closed. Ev en her black
m id-height heels, supporting two sturdy legs, looked as if
they m eant business. Miss Chiang started speaking in a
rapid-fire,
Chinese-Am erican
dialect,
gesturing
frantically as she spoke.
"I sell b i g condos to big custom er in Hong Kong!" she
rattled, opening up her leather file cabinet and pulling
out a m anila folder. "He's a big custom er, he send m e his
cousin and his cousin buy sm all condo. Dis lady hav e
sister-in-law in Taiwan and she buy two condos! She send
m e sister's cousin in Hong Kong, but she no good. But she
send m e cousin from Taiwan and she buy m ore condo!"
I im m ediately switched gears from snoozing to
schm oozing, realizing I had just stepped in front of the
Hong Kong to Taiwan to New York Express. "That's really
incredible!" I adm ired. "You're just am azingl" I gav e Miss
Chiang m y v ery best sm ile and decided the ten weeks
m ight be worth it after all!
4 fe
MOM'S LESSON #1 4 : Go stand next to Nana and see
how big y ou are!
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT STANDING TALL

On bad day s, m v m other used Nana to refram e our

perspectiv e and m ake us feel better. She nev er once
suggested that we m easure ourselv es against any one tall.
And just as m y m other changed our perspectiv e then, I
was able to refram e the Citibank debacle that night. I
realized that at least I got up there, and did hav e
som ething to say . I just couldn't say it then.
My Citibank flop only m ade m e try harder, and by
getting back up, I was able to recruit the best
condom inium salesperson in all New York. By the tim e
the NYU sem ester ended, Carrie Chiang had arriv ed at
our office along with her leather file cabinet, her twelv e
boxes of folders, and her first cousin working as her
assistant.
When Carrie started in 1 9 86 , the condom inium
m arket accounted for less than 5 percent of the city 's
residential sales. By late 2 002 , New York's burgeoning
condo m arket accounted for m ore than 3 5 percent of city
sales. And Carrie Chiang, New York's num ber 1
undisputed Condo Queen, had sold m ore condos than
any one else.
By teaching the classes at NYU ov er the next fiv e
y ears, I succeeded in becom ing an excellent public
speaker, and the course prov ed to be m y m ost fertile
ground for recruiting top-notch salespeople. Not a bad
pay off for standing back up.
What I'v e learned about public failures is that nobody
really giv es a dam n.' While y ou're wallowing around

worry ing about what people are thinking, y ou fail to

notice that ev ery body else has already m ov ed on. x\nd
fretting about what the other guy thinks often stops y ou
from try ing in the first place.
For two whole weeks, Janet Clean. Eugene Darby , and
I m et on the strip of grass across the street from Mrs.
Cacciotti's house and watched tlie three m en build a long
retaining wall in front of her house. As they laid the
cem ent blocks one by one, they didn't talk m uch, but
from the few words they said, we knew they weren't from
Edgewater.
On the last day they were there, the m en took what
looked like a pointy spatula and sm oothed cem ent all ov er
the front of the wall just like Mom iced her cake. It wasn't
until Eugene and Janet went hom e for dinner that I saw
m y opportunity .
I m ade a beeline to Mrs. Cacciotti's wall to figure out
how long it was. I began where the wall started and took
broad steps around the curv e to where it joined Mrs.
Mertz's driv eway . The whole wall was a total of fifteen big
steps. Perfect! I thought. Just exactly what I need.
I picked up a big stick from Mrs. Mertz's y ard and
walked back to where the wall started and drew the top of
the first B about lev el with m y bangs. I m ade the two
sideway bum ps nice and round, ending the bottom bum p
with a fancy curlicue. I took two side steps to the right
and drew T a n A . (I had to go back and add a little extra
line on the right side to m ake the legs ev en.) When I

finished the N on the far side facing Mrs. Mertz's, I wiped

off m y stick on her grass and stepped back to take a good
look at m y work of art.
'BARBARA CORCORAN?!'* m y m other cried as we
cam e upon m y m asterpiece. "Barbara Ann, what were
y ou thinking?!
What I was thinking was: Why couldn 7 / hare just
written
"Barbara"? There were a few Barbaras in
Edgewater. but only on e "Barbara Corcoran." And that
was the one written on Mrs. Cacciotti's wall.
"How could y ou do that?" m y m other scowled, leaning
into m y face. "And where was y our brain? Don't y ou
know if y ou write y our nam e on a wall, som ebody 's going
to notice?
I knew it wasn't the kind of question Mom really
wanted an
answer to. But I was thinking that I sort of knew
som ebody would notice, and, in fact, that was the whole
idea. I just didn't know Mom was going to notice!
I was sentenced to two weeks of hard labor as Mrs.
Cacciottfs slav e. Mom instructed m e to knock on her door
ev ery m orning at eight and say , "Good m orning, Mrs.
Cacciotti! What can I do for y ou today ?"
I alway s got the feeling that Mrs. Cacciotti had to
think hard to com e up with stuff for m e to do. But for two
weeks I put Mrs. Cac-ciotti's m ilk bottles outside for Mr.
Colontoni, the m ilkm an, walked her brown dog, and
swept her front steps. I cleaned up the clippings from her

hedges and pulled som e weeds from her backy ard. I didn't
like working for Mrs. Cacciotti m uch, but I was still
happy I wrote on her wall.
My nam e was fam ous on Undercliff Av enue for two
whole day s! On the third day , the sam e three m en cam e
back, and Mom paid them to erase m y nam e from Mrs.
Cacciottf s wall.
MOM'S LESSON #1 5: If y ou want to get noticed, write
y our nam e on the wall.
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT GETTING NOTICED
By growing up in a fam ily of ten kids, I learned how to
grab attention in a crowded m arket. I would later learn
how to steal the lim elight in
a city of eight m illion. Getting publicity is nothing
m ore than getting attention.
A l l reporters hav e one problem . They need stories.
And when y ou prov ide reporters with a good story idea,
y ou're not asking for a fav or, y ou're giv ing them a gift.
The Corcoran Group ty pically spends $5 m illion a y ear
on adv ertising, but less than $1 00,000 on publicity .
Adv ertising helped us m ake our nam e, but publicity put
it on the m arquee.
Unlike adv ertising, publicity has the power of the
third-partv endorsem ent, which builds credibility
around a nam e. If a com pany spends m illions of dollars
adv ertising how good they are, som e people m ay believ e
it. But if a m ajor newspaper presents the com pany in a
fav orable light, ev ery one believ es it.

Publishing our statistics in The Corcoran Report was

the beginning of what would later prov e to be m y m ost
profitable road to success. Statistics are the slam dunk of
all publicity . But there are other way s to capture m edia
attention. Here's how:
1 . Making news on hearsay or rum ors.
Som etim es the easiest story to get publicity on is the
one that's already out there. It's like ty ing y our wagon
onto som eone else's horse.
2 . Making news with y our com petitor's sales.
The irony of m ost businesses is that y ou often can't
talk about y our own sales, either for priv acy or legal
reasons. But y ou can alway s talk about y our com petitor's
sales, and in doing so. y ou will inev itably get the credit.
3 . Good old-fashioned grandstanding.
Ev ery one lov es a show. Grandstanding is nothing
m ore than try ing to figure out what would be v isually
interesting and be a little different from the norm .
Here are a few way s we'v e m ade headlines:
THE LITTLE PINK BUILDING ON EAST 52 nd STREET
When we were confronted with m arketing our first
new building project, it was already labeled a pink
elephant that couldn't be sold. I took its liability and m ade
it an asset by painting the building pink. By nam ing it
the "Pink Elephant," we rode the publicity for all it was
worth, and the affection it generated sold out the building
in three m onths' tim e.
MADONNA GOES HOUSEHUNTING

When I read in the paper that Madonna was on the

hunt for a new apartm ent, I was disappointed to learn
that none of our salespeople were working with her. I
im m ediately m ade a checklist of what Madonna would be
looking for. All I knew was that she liv ed in a large
apartm ent on the West Side and that she was about to
hav e a baby . The checklist included the usual things
im portant to any wealthy celebrity , such as grand space,
top security , v iews, and all the luxury am enities that
m oney can buy . I sent out a copy of the list to all our
m edia contacts that sam e day . Ev ery one receiv ed a copy ,
except Madonna.
Two hours later, I was sitting at a desk at CNN's Penn
Plaza studio, chatting it up on-air. I was no m ore an
authority on what Madonna's wish list m ight include
than any body else, but I was the only one willing to
speculate.
Ev ery one in our m arketplace wrongly assum ed that
Madonna was our client, and we got four other celebrities
as a result of the publicity .
AMERICAN INDIAN RITUAL SELLS HOME
After six m onths of try ing to sell an elev en-room Park
Av enue apartm ent, our efforts prov ed unsuccessful. We
were baffled as
to why until we uncov ered the awful truth that the
apartm ent had been the stage for a prolonged and v iolent
m arriage. In an attem pt to satisfy the disgruntled seller
when he threatened to pull the listing, we recom m ended

"a com plete sm udging of the apartm ent."

Sm udging is an Am erican Indian ritual perform ed
with bells and incense to cleanse troublesom e spaces of
their ev il spirits. The ancient blessing had to be followed
by twenty -four hours of total darkness with the shades
drawn and all light elim inated. The next m orning, we
opened the curtains and the first couple to see it sat on the
bed in the m aster bedroom and eagerly offered the full
$3 .2 m illion asking price.
After this success, we m ade a regular practice of
offering our sm udging serv ices for problem apartm ents.
We nev er again perform ed them without a newspaper
reporter or telev ision crew present.
HELPING ROVER PASS THE CO-OP BOARD
As "no dog" buildings becam e com m onplace, and as
rules surrounding pet behav ior becam e m ore ridiculous,
we hired a celebrity dog trainer to teach our clients dogs
how to pass coop boards. Although the boards had not
actually asked any dogs to com e in for a board interv iew,
we m ade our dogs ready nonetheless!
The publicity our stunt generated gav e m e a sore back
from bending ov er to shake doggie paws, as newspaper
photographers snapped away !
THE $3 5 MILLION EIXER UPPER
When Sharon Baum , New York City 's grand dam e of
m ultim illion-dollar hom e sales, asked m e to surv ey the
Vanderbilt Mansion on East Sixty -fourth Street, we found
twenty -two room s eerily frozen in tim e. The original gas

lanterns were still in place.

along with the old iceboxes in the basem ent kitchen.
Sharon set the price at $3 5 m illion and estim ated it
needed another $1 0 m illion to m ake it liv able.
1 billed the m ansion as "The $3 5 Million Fixer-Upper"
and the curiosity about the property not only brought
elev en cam era crews, but also m ore than three dozen
m ultim illionaires asking to see the property .
KENNEDY LOFT PUT ON BLOCK
A New York Post reporter called only m inutes after
John F. Kennedy , Jr., and his glam orous y oung wife,
Caroly n Bessette, were declared dead in a tragic plane
crash. The reporter urgently asked what Kennedy 's
Tribeca loft would be worth if it was put on the m arket for
sale. Still surprised by the call, I calculated out loud that
six m onths earlier we had sold an identical apartm ent
one floor below the JFK, Jr. loft for a m illion dollars. The
m arket had been activ e, so I figured its v alue had
increased by about a half m illion since. I added another
m illion for the Kennedy lofts "celebrity v alue" and
declared, "I guess the v alue would be som ewhere around
$2 .5 m illion."
I was shocked to read the next m orning's New York
Post headline: "KENNEDY LOFT PUT ON BLOCK FOR $2 .5
MILLION" with m e quoted as the authority . My phone
rang all day , the story was carried on ev ery m ajor
network, and I becam e the spokeswom an for the John Jr.
loft ev en though it was not ev en for sale.

Three m onths later, m y com petitor got the listing and

listed it at $2 .5 m illion, but they were required to sign a
nondisclosure agreem ent. So, who do y ou think the press
called?
The property finally sold to actor Ed Burns for . . . $2 .5
m illion. We nev er listed it and we nev er sold it, but when
Dan Rather's Ev ening News, CNN, a n d Entertainm ent
Ton ig h t cov ered the record-breaking sale, 1 was again
featured as the expert "Broker to the Stars."
NEW YORK'S HIGHEST PRICED SALE
W hen a Park Av enue triplex sold for the recordbreaking price of $3 7 m illion, our com petitor who sold it
was sworn to secrecy . When the com petitor refused to
speak to the press, the press soon called m e. I quickly
labeled the sale a "steal of a deal" and by that ev ening, I
was on CBS News and the anchor was introducing m e as
the wom an who m ade the highest-priced sale in history . I
graciously corrected him , but still ev ery one in New York
continued to think we had m ade the highest-priced sale in
history .
WHAT TO DO WHEN THE REPORTER CALLS
1 . Drop ev ery thing.
When m y husband wants to reach m e, he say s he s
calling from the New York Tim es. Fv e learned that the
first person the reporter reaches m akes the story , and the
next person only con fir m s the story . The person who
m akes the story alway s gets the quotes. When the
reporter calls, pick up the phone.

2 . Deliv er what y ou prom ise and deliv er it fast.

With the adv ent of e-m ail, inform ation is im m ediately
av ailable. I use e-m ail to reach m y salespeople and ferret
out whatev er m inutiae a reporter m ay need for his story .
I think of our public relations staff m em bers as a serv ice
departm ent im m ediately av ailable to any newspaper,
m agazine, or telev ision station that m ight call.
3 . Talk short. Talk plain.
You m ight feel m ore astute explaining to a reporter
that "m arketplace conditions hav e declined som ewhat
and I hav e ev ery confidence that econom ic conditions will
im prov e blah. blah.
blah." But if y our com petitor say s, "The m arket
dum ped," that's the quote y ou'll see in the m orning paper.
4 . Alway s tell the truth. Alway s.
It's in the worst of tim es that publicity is y our v ery
best friend. When the stock m arket tanked in 1 9 87 , New
York City real estate prices dropped by 4 0 percent, as did
our com m issions. But as m y com petitors ran for cov er, I
took center stage. I used the m edia to build m y business,
knowing that bad news is good news in the m edia world.
TIPS ON PUTTING YOUR BEST FACE FORWARD
1 . If y ou want to be noticed, dress the part.
My red suit becam e m y tradem ark. Ev ery one noticed
m e when I had it on.
2 . Schedule y our photo shoots the day y ou arriv e back
from v acation.
You'll take y our best picture when y ou're fully rested.

Hire a professional m akeup artist to help y ou look y our

best.
3 . Paint y our office wall in y our best color.
Decide what color y ou look best in and paint y our wall
that shade and prom inently display y our com pany nam e
on it. Since m ost cam era crews prefer to interv iew
executiv es at their desks, y ou'll be backed by y our best
color and y our logo will be in the shot.
prices, and our ov erhead per agent was running
$4 0,000 a y ear. With the real estate m arket at a healthy
boil, when one agent didn't produce, the next agent's
production was big enough to pick up the slack. But I was
worried about what would happen if the m arket braked
and slowed to a sim m er. Ev en som eone who failed algebra
twice could do the m ath.
My sales m anagers had already m et with each of their
salespeople in the bottom of the list, only to com e back
and giv e m e a long dissertation on how those who were
failing were "really try ing their best."
I was stum ped and identified with the m anagers'
enorm ous discom fort. I was asking them to do what I
couldn't do m y self, and it rendered m y order im potent. I
found that firing any one, ev en when it's the right thing
to do, alway s felt wrong. So lacking the courage to say ,
''''Justfire them " I could only m uster, "So, when will y ou
ask them to leav e?"
Esther stiffened in her chair, and Barbara Brine looked
at the list and sighed. "Four of the bottom ten hav e nev er

m ade a deal," Barbara adm itted, "but the other six hav e
m ade alm ost twenty thousand dollars each and that's
certainly better than hav ing an em pty desk!"
"No, that's not how it works," I insisted. "With an
ov erhead of forty thousand, that's twenty thousand
dollars short for each desk! If y ou m ultiply th a t tim es six
desks, that's a hundred-and-twenty -thousand-dollar lossl
We m ight be in a fat m arket now, and getting away with
it, but if the m arket goes south, we'll be dead on arriv al."
What I really wanted to say was: Listen! Pre been
talking to y ou about cleaning up this m ess for three
m onths now and nothing has changed! What do I hav e to
do to m ov e this thing along? I won 9 t carry the deadwood
any longer. We 9 v e got to clean up our m ess and we'v e
got to do it now!
But what 1 said instead was: "How about we go to the
m ov ies?" It seem ed the m ore attainable option.
Esther and Barbara looked bewildered, and then
reliev ed. Barbara spoke first: "That sounds like a lov ely
idea. Doesn't it, Esther?"
IF YOU DON'T HAVE BIG BREASTS 1 3 7
We left the office and spent the rest of the afternoon
drooling ov er Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon.
Fall. Hilliard Av enue.
We were halfway up Hilliard Av enue when m y older
sister Denise and I saw our house through the school bus
window. There were lots of colored stream ers dangling in
the big side-y ard tree, and the front retaining wall was

draped with dozens of brightlv colored flags.

"Whose birthday is it?" Denise asked.
"Don't know," I said, turning and squinting m y ey es to
get a better look. "May be it's Tom m y 's?"
"Nah, his was last m onth, but it could be Eddies. Isn't
his after Tom m y s?"
"Well, w hosev er birthday it is, it sure looks like Mom
outdid herself this tim e!"
As we neared our house at the top of the hill, the wall
decorations began to look less like a party and m ore like a
m ess.^ "De-Denise!" I stam m ered, nudging her arm and
pointing. "Isn't that y our new green sweater on the front
wall?"
"What!?" she gasped, cov ering her m outh with both
hands.
"Oh, God!" I said, slum ping down into the bus seat.
"Don't look now, but I think our bras are hanging in the
tree!"
By now ev ery kid on the bus had rushed the left
windows, pushing each other aside for a better look.
Denise slid down ey e lev el with m e and whispered, "It's
our clothes, I think m ay be all of them , and they 're all
ov er the y ard!"
"Getting off! ?" the bus driv er shouted back through
the catcalls. I grabbed Denises arm and we m ade our
escape through the accordion doors. "Don't look," I directed
through clenched teeth, just keep walking straight ahead
and pretend we liv e at the Geary s' house.*

"Nice pantiesT a boy shouted as the bus pulled away .

We walked on, our faces flushed. Denise was swearing
under her breath.
"Who?" m y sister hissed. "Who would hav e done such a
disgusting thing? "
Together we answered, "Mom ! "
Mom liked a clean house and surprised us on m ore
than one occasion when she appeared in the girls' room ,
broom and dustpan in hand, eager to dem onstrate her
theory on housecleaning.
Mom believ ed in sweeping corners. First she pulled all
the furniture away from the walls, and jam m ed her
broom into the nearest corner. Next, she followed the
woodwork around clockwise, sweeping the dirt toward the
center of the room as she went. Then she pushed the
furniture back against the walls, scooped up the dirt pile
with her dustpan, and dum ped it into a brown paper bag.
"Now, rem em ber, girls," she said as she finished a
cleaning dem onstration. "If y ou sweep the corners, the
whole house stay s clean."
When the girls m ov ed upstairs into the new girls'
room , Mom m ade Saturday cleaning ou r responsibility ,
but we took our extra freedom and ran with it. After we
failed Mom 's weekly inspections a few tim es, she began to
threaten us with: "If y ou don't take care of y our room in a
proper fashion, Fm going to take care of it for y ou!"
Mom had m ade good on her prom ise.
Denise and I ran up the two flights to our room , and

surv ey ed it in horror. Our beds had been stripped. Our

blankets were gone, our pillows were gone, and ev ery
drawer in our dresser was open and em pty . Our room
looked as if we had m ov ed out. Only the pink-checked
curtains rem ained, flapping back and forth in the open
window.
I walked ov er and sat down on m y bare m attress and
reached under it. I was reliev ed to find m y pack of
cigarettes undiscov ered. "Want a sm oke?" I asked Denise
as I pulled one out. It was only a filter. I pulled out
another, and it was a filter. I dum ped out the whole
IF YOU DON'T HAVE BIG BREASTS 1 3 9
box. Mom had cut ev ery cigarette into thirds and put
them , filters up, back in the box. I threw the box across
the room into the em ptv trash can, and lay back on m y
bed.
"Look!" Denise shrieked. I followed her pointing arm .
Six-inch letters, scrawled across our dresser m irror in
Mom 's signature white shoe polish, denounced us as:
PIGS!
"Size eight," I told the wom an behind the counter at
Celine s Boutique on Park Av enue. We were walking back
fr om Lethal Weapon when I spotted the pink suede shoes
in the window. The shoes m ust hav e been for the wom an
who had ev ery thing. They had little pink bunny ears
attached to the front, a set of rolling glass ey es beneath
curly black lashes, and a black sculpted nose attached to a
set of long bunny whiskers..

"That will be two hundred and twenty -two dollars,

please," the wom an behind the counter said. Esther and
Barbara Brine looked at m e as if I had lost m y m ind as I
wrote out the check.
When I got back to the office, I rem ov ed m y new
bunny shoes from their box and placed them on m y desk.
I took out the list of nonproductiv e salespeople and
reached for a cube of paper.
"H. H.," I wrote on the first sm all y ellow square.
"A. Z.," I wrote on the next.
"S. K.," I wTote on the one after that and continued
until all ten of the salespeople's initials were written on
indiv idual squares. I folded the papers in half, then in
quarters, and then in eighths. I dropped fiv e of the tinv
notes in each shoe, placed the bunnies back in their box,
and taped m y handwritten note to Barbara Brine on top.
It read:
Barbara Corcoran
I sealed the box and sent it by m essenger to the West
Side office.
Within an hour of getting the shoes, Barbara Brine
called. She was laughing, and said shed "hop right to it."
MOM'S LESSON #1 6 : Sweep the corners and the whole
house stay s clean.
THE LESSON LEARNED
ABOUT KEEPING
THE HOUSE CLEAN
The bunny shoes allowed m e to dress som ething

disagreeable as m ore agreeable. I succeeded in m aking

the dreadful topic of firing a bit friendlier and gav e
m y self the courage to set the needed deadline.
The $2 2 2 bunny shoes sav ed The Corcoran Group
$1 2 0,000 that y ear. The m oney was no longer being
spent to support the bottom 2 5 percent of nonproductiv e
salespeople. Using the 2 5 percent rule, we'v e been
cleaning out the corners of our com pany ev er since.
Firing people is the least popular task of any m anager,
and those who are the best at hiring are usually the worst
at firing. My m anagers were great recruiters and lov ed
their salespeople. But they were leading with their hearts
instead of their heads.
Firing is also a personal adm ission that y ou hired the
wrong person, that y our judgm ent was wrong. But ev en
with the m ost arduous screening and choosing, in real
estate sales only one in six salespeople m ake it. In fact, in
m ost real estate brokerage com panies, m ore than half the
salespeople don't m eet their desk costs ev en after two
y ears in the business. Nothing is m ore deceiv ing than a
desk that looks productiv e sim ply because som eone is
sitting there.
Here are the four way s I sweep the corners and keep
m y sales house clean:
1 . Fire Before You Hire.
Create a m ethod to keep track of each new
salesperson's progress so y ou can fire the nonproductiv e
ones before they get lost in the shuffle.

DAY 1 . During the interv iew, state y our expectations

clearly .
Tell the would-be salesperson that they hav e a lim ited
tim e to produce their first sale. In the real estate sales
business, that translates into one signed contract within
the first ninety day s.
DAY 3 0. Schedule a m eeting with each new
salesperson.
The purpose is to check their progress and offer them
the help they m ight need.
DAY 6 0. Extend or keep the deadline.
By Day 6 0, salespeople begin to panic. As great
salespeople are som etim es slow starters, it's the m anagers
option to either slick
to the ninety -day deadline or take off the pressure
with a stay of execution. If y ou're confident that the
salesperson is on the right track, now's the tim e to extend
a benev olent hand to help him across the finish line.
D-DAY. By ninety day s, the nonproducers fire
them selv es.
Because the expectations were stated clearly on Day 1 ,
nonproducers can plan for their own departure and leav e
with dignity before the deadline. And a well-defined exit
strategy allows the m anager to feel fair as the salesperson
say s good-by e.
2 . Know the Cost of Each Desk.
The starting gate of m aking any sales organization
productiv e is to know how m uch each salesperson m ust

produce to turn a profit. Sim ply div ide y our total y early
ov erhead (including expected expansion costs and profits)
and div ide the figure by the num ber of salespeople in
y our organization. With y our ey es wide open, y ou'll work
toward m aking ev ery desk productiv e.
3 . Clean Out the Bottom 2 5 Percent.
The 2 5 percent rule is sim ply this: When a salesperson
rem ains in the bottom 2 5 percent of the com pany for
m ore than one quarter, the indiv idual is rev iewed for
possible notice of term ination.
Here are the three steps that m ake this sy stem work:
/ . Make a list of y our salespeople in order of
production.
Do it ev ery quarter. The idea here is to purge the
com pany of its deadwood, that is, the bottom 2 5 percent
of the salesforce.
2 . Fire a warning shot.
Meet with each underachiev er and find out what y ou
could do to help them turn their production around. Put
the plan on paper.
3 . Establish a deadline.
The deadline should be reasonable and m atch y our
degree of confidence in the indiv idual's ability to becom e
productiv e. A clearly stated deadline is a surefire way of
finding out who can swim . Usually only one in four does.
Allow One Pet per Office.
Our sales m anagers can choose to keep one
nonproductiv e salesperson. This is usually an indiv idual

who the m anager believ es helps the whole group in som e

collectiv e way som eone, for exam ple, who boosts office
m orale or helps the team . It's the sales m anager's
equiv alent of a "gov ernor's pardon," and we affectionately
call the policy "One pet per office."
Firing is nev er easy . By establishing clear param eters,
we built a reliable sy stem for m aking our com pany
highly productiv e. It was also a lot m ore efficient than
hav ing the bunny shoes hop all ov er town. Here are som e
tips to keeping firing friendly :
1 . Fire with som eone else present.
When y ou sit down to break the bad news, it's
som etim es easier to do it with another m anager present.
That person not only prov ides m oral support, but y ou
hold each other accountable for getting the job done.
2 . Ask for their perm ission to be honest with them .
Ask, "Do y ou m ind if I'm honest with y ou?" Ev ery one
alway s agrees, and ev ery one really prefers honesty .
3 . Tell them the truth.
Nothing is worse than being hanged when y ou don't
know what the crim e is. It's sim ply not fair, and it leav es
the person wondering for the rest of his life.
4 . Alway s start by telling them what they do well.
When y ou fire som eone, y ou want to ensure that they
leav e with their self-esteem intact. If y ou take the tim e to
prepare a list of what they do well and acknowledge it, it
will be easier for them to accept y our critique of why
they 're not suited for their present job.

5. Cut to the chase.

Som eone being fired doesn't want to spend a lot of tim e
discussing it. Tell them what y ou tell them and m ake
y our good-by e short.
m ore than $1 00,000. I was happy to note that per m y
instruction, both the office rent and the pay roll were paid
to date, but according to m y quick calculation, we owed
another $2 00,000 for printing, office supplies,
equipm ent leases, insurance, accounting fees, and
telephone. I added up our accounts receiv able, and if our
deals closed within the next four m onths as projected, our
net com m issions would total only $3 6 ,000.
"Whew," I gasped, shaking the num ber out of m y head,
"that leav es us with a shortfall of two hundred sixty -four
thousand dollars!" I pulled the tape from the adding
m achine, circled the red figure, walked to m y desk, and
hid it in m y file drawer.
When I reached for m y purse, I found a note clipped to
it. It read, "Don't forget we hav e the $3 00,000 credit line
at Citibank." (Signed) "Esther."
Dad's La-Z-Boy . Edgewater.
Mom was in her usual rush down the rickety wooden
stairs, which led from the bathroom to the cellar, when
she took a bad fall and broke her ankle in two places. She
was on her way to check the furnace, which kicked off
whenev er the Roanes filled their tub at the sam e tim e we
did. She was try ing to get down and back before the
breaded v eal patties burned in the fry ing pan.

Ev en with her leg in a cast, Mom kept charging at full

throttle. She hopped up and down the front steps on her
good leg, alm ost as fast as we ran them on two. She had a
wheelchair, a walker, crutches, and, m ost im portant,
another foot.
Mom altered her daily routines to accom m odate the
new annoy ance and used her walker as a tem porary
clothesline, draping things ov er it as if it were a dry ing
rack. She discov ered that by wrapping the heel of her
crutch with a dam p rag and a rubber band, she could
reach into the tight spots to clean out the cobwebs. Her
wheelchair
soon sat parked in the side y ard, where it serv ed as a
tem porary stool for peeling potatoes.
Mom 's new condition didn't change Dads routine at all.
Each night before leav ing for his second job as night
watchm an at the Lev er Brothers Co., Dad still settled into
his La-Z-Boy chair in the liv ing room for his ev ening
sm oke. He opened his tin of Half and Half Tobacco, took a
large pinch, and carefully stuffed his burled-wood pipe.
After a few puffs, he leaned back, rested his pipe on a
beanbag ashtray , cocked his head back and fell asleep.
That was Dad s routine, and that's where he sat the night
Mom lost it.
It was shortly before dinner and Mom was crutching
around the kitchen, hopping back and forth between the
sink, refrigerator, and stov e. Baby Jeanine was on her
hip and Marty Joe was pulling at her hem . Ellen and I

were setting the table.

Mom finished draining the potatoes and dum ped them
and a stick of butter into her big alum inum pot. She
hopped ov er to the refrigerator, took out the m ilk, and
poured som e into the potatoes. With her free hand, she
stuck the Sunbeam m ixer into the potatoes and turned it
on. The pot whirled around once, twice, and then spun
right off the counter and onto the floor.
Chunks of potatoes whirled through the kitchen.
Marty Joe started to laugh, sm earing the potatoes
through his hair and into his ears. I looked at Mom , and
she looked as if she were about to cry .
"EDDIEEE!" she scream ed at the top of her lungs.
"EDDIE. HELP ME!!!"
Dad jerked his head up from the back of his La-Z-Boy
and stam m ered, '"What? . . . What, what is it, Florence?"
Mom hobbled ov er to the La-Z-Boy , her hair glued to
her forehead with sweat. Ellen and I stood frozen at the
end of the table. We looked at each other, then at Mom
and back to Dad. Mom spoke slowly through clenched
teeth. "Can. y ou, please, com e. here, and, do som ething? ?
"
"Like what, Flo?" Dad answered.
"Like, m ay be, help, m e, m ash, the, dam n, potatoes !"
"Florence," Dad replied, "y ou know that's not m y job."
Dad picked up his pipe and Mom hopped back to the
kitchen.
When Esther wrote the first check against our credit

line, we discov ered it had been pulled. Mr. Serling, our

ex-friendly banker, had pulled it. He explained that
credit lines were really for businesses that didn't need
credit.
I knew som ething had to giv e, and it wasn't going to be
Citibank.
Two silv er-haired Italian m en arriv ed at m y office,
dressed in dark gray hand-stitched suits, and introduced
them selv es as Mr. Vincent and Mr. Tony Albanese. They
had built a new fifty -two-story condom inium across from
the United Nations and had blueprints rolled under their
arm s. They sat down in m y sm all elev enth-floor office
and the older brother, Vincent, com m ented on its
neatness. "Sm all, but beautifully kept," he said.
The y ounger brother, Tony , seem ed like the
dealm aker. "My brother and I read y our com m ents in
y esterday 's Tim es" he began, "and m y brother and I are
wondering if y ou'd be so kind as to tell us what y ou think
our new condom inium apartm ents could sell for."
"I'd be m ore than happy to, Mr. and Mr. Albanese," I
replied, m y m ind warm ing at the thought of the
com m ission on 2 50 apartm ents. "If y ou can take the tim e
now to walk m e through y our blueprints, I can hav e
prices for y ou by tom orrow."
When they left, I unrolled their floor plans and walked
out to the sales area. "Linda," I interrupted a salesperson,
"would y ou take a quick look at these apartm ent plans
and giv e m e y our best guess as to what each m ight sell

for?" Linda did, I wrote her initials next to each of her

estim ates, and then m ov ed on to the next salesperson.
Forty -fiv e m inutes later , I had collected ten opinions.
After
av eraging the prices for each of the six apartm ent
sizes, I had a pretty good idea what the Albaneses'
condom inium s would sell for.
The two Albaneses arriv ed the next m orning, and
they seem ed im pressed by the neatly ty ped list of prices I
had prepared. "Excellent work, Vincent congratulated
m e, as he exam ined the list of prices. "Excellent work!"
During the next few m inutes of back-and-forth
schm oozing, all I could think about was the $2 6 4 ,000
that I owed to m y creditors. We needed cash and we
needed it now. I decided to go for it.
"Mr. Albanese and Mr. Albanese, Fv e nev er in m y
entire life seen m ore beautiful floor plans than y ours.
They reflect the enorm ous thought y ouVe obv iously put
into ev ery detail. Your buildings location is exceptional,
y our v iews the best in the city , and y our black m arble
py ram id top is going to put the Em pire State Building to
sh a m e! I just lov e y our buildings Mr. Albaneses, and I
wonder if y ou would consider giv ing The Corcoran Group
the honor of selling y our property 7 as y our exclusiv e
agent?" I bowed m y head with respect and waited.
The brothers looked at each other, obv iously im pressed
by m y appreciation of their trophy property . It was
Vincent
who
finally
spoke,
alm ost
painfully .

"Unfortunately , Miss Corcoran, I'm sorry to say that it's

out of the question! Marty Ray nes is a partner in our
project and his com pany is already our exclusiv e agent."
I thought again about the $2 6 4 ,000. I thought about
the credit line that got away . And I thought about this
week's sales that only totaled two.
I sm iled m y m ost innocent sm ile.
"Well, how about sales m anager?" I asked, try ing to
disguise m y desperation as enthusiasm .
Tony sm iled like a kindly godfather, and asked, "But
why would y ou, Miss Corcoran, want to work as a sales
m anager when y ou're the president of this successful
operation?"
"Because I could learn so m uch working for y ou and
y our
brother," I explained. Tony seem ed satisfied with m y
answer and leaned back.
Vincent, howev er, was suspicious, squinting his ey es
and pursuing the question further. "I think that m ight be
a conflict of interest," he said. "Let's say , Miss Corcoran,
that one of y our salespeople brought in a custom er who
bought one of our condos. We would owe y our com pany a
full fiv e percent com m ission. How could I be sure that
that custom er didn't com e into our building first, and
that y ou didn't refer him to one of y our salespeople just to
get the com m ission?"
At that, I spread m y hand ov er m y heart and gasped. I
rem em bered m y "alm ost a nun" statem ent that had

worked so well y ears earlier with Mr. Cam pagna, m y

landlord who wanted to ev ict m e. I decided right then to
take the story one step further.
"Mr. Albaneses, th a t would be im possible! Why , I'm a
form er nun!"
I started work with the respectful Italian Albanese
brothers one week later for an annual salary of
$2 00,000. I planned to use half of m y new salary to pay
Esther so that she could giv e up sales and be in the office
full-tim e. I'd use the other $1 00,000 to keep ahead on our
adv ertising bill. If we couldn't adv ertise, we'd be out of
business.
In the second week on m y new job, a sophisticated
Italian wom an arriv ed at the condom inium sales office.
She looked a lot like Sophia Loren, and I knew she was "a
ringer," a spy to test m y integrity . She m ight as well
hav e been carry ing a sign.
"I'v e beena working, witha Eleanora, from a The
Corcoran Groupa," she tolda m ea. "Do I needa, hera, to
showa-m ea, thesa condos?"
"Why , that's not necessary at all," I replied. "I'll take
y ou up to see the condos right now." She didn't buy a
condo, but I had honored m y v ows and passed the
Albanese integrity test.
I thought back to m y m em ory of m y m other quietly
hopping back to the kitchen as m y dad sat in his La-ZBoy . Mom 's unspoken words still burned in m y m em ory :
"In a fam ily , ev ery one helps m ash the potatoes."

For the next six m onths, I fed m y after-tax incom e

back to The Corcoran Group, pay ing our bills and buy ing
m ore tim e.
MOM'S LESSON #1 7 : In a fam ily , ev ery one helps
m ash the potatoes.
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT HELPING OUT
By m oonlighting for the Albanese brothers, I earned
the needed cash that bought m y struggling com pany
som e tim e. And I discov ered that the new job gav e m e the
opportunity to learn som ething new. and through that
job, I learned a lot about m arketing new dev elopm ents.
That knowledge would later lead to the opening of a new
m arketing div ision for The Corcoran Group.
My willingness to go out and take a second job to keep
us afloat set an exam ple that was noticed by ev ery one at
the com pany . Because I was willing to personally put
m y self on the line, ev ery one at The Corcoran Group
rallied around the flag and pitched in. They form ed
listing team s, taught workshops, helped each other
negotiate, supported cuts in adv ertising, and ev en took
pay cuts.
Nothing is m ore powerful than a team working
together. Team s can accom plish any thing, but to create
an exceptional team , the m em bers m ust totally believ e
that no one of us is as sm art as all of us.
secretary -bookkeeper, and she had clearly becom e the
m ost popular person at the office. She answered one call
after another from suppliers, offering sm all goodwill

pay m ents in exchange for a little m ore tim e.

Esther suggested I use her personal sav ings to keep the
business afloat, and one of m y nicest salespeople, Edith,
quietly offered m e her husband*s pension fund. But not
knowing if I would be able to pay either back, I declined. I
felt bad enough owing our creditors m oney , nev er m ind
owing m oney to people I personally knew.
I went ov er our bills and receiv ables once m ore. We
were clearly in the red, blood red, and for the first tim e, I
faced the fact that we were going out of business.
I unplugged the office Christm as tree, turned off the
lights, and headed hom e through the holiday hustle of
Madison Av enue. I needed to find the right words to tell
ev ery one I was closing the business, but I figured I could
wait two weeks until after the holiday s.
Friday night. The Corcoran kitchen.
"\ quit!" Mom declared to no one as the kitchen filled
with sm oke, and she clanged the sm oking black pan of
charred flounder into the sink. She stom ped ov er to Dad's
La-Z-Boy . and handed Mary Jean off with a curt, "She's
wet, change her!"
The next tim e we saw Mom it was alm ost six o'clock.
We were m illing around the kitchen when she appeared
in her full Sunday dress, hat and all. Nana was standing
on her right, and her blue Sam sonite suitcase was at the
ready on her left.
"I'm leav ing!" she announced loudly .
"What about dinner?'" Eddie asked.

"Your father's in charge. Ask him !*' she said, picking

up her suitcase and heading toward the front door.
We all ran to the front window to watch Mom kathum p her suitcase down the front steps, jerk it up onto
the sidewalk, and head
down Hilliard Av enue. We watched as Mom dragged
her suitcase past Gene's Candy Store, Mrs. Mertz's bakery ,
Bernie Beck's superm arket, and as she went ov er the
ridge by Uncle Dick's police station, we couldn't see Mom
any m ore.
Mom plunked herself down on the green wooden bench
at the bus stop on Riv er Road and waited. She didn't know
where she was going, she was just going. With a
household full of kids, Mom was tired of being the fulltim e repairm an, laundress, nurse, tutor, and cook. But
the final straw that Friday night was that Dad wasn't
helping her get us ready for his cousin's wedding the next
day in Tom s Riv er.
As she waited for the num ber 8 bus to New York, a
handsom e, well-dressed m an with a leather attache case
sat down next to her. Mom y anked the two pink sponge
curlers from her bangs. When the bus arriv ed, Mom paid
her fare, took a seat at the front of the bus, and the
handsom e m an sat down beside her. "Going m y way ?" he
whispered to m y m other.
It was two blocks south at the stop in front of the Edge
water Alum inum Factory that Mom grabbed her suitcase
and ran out of the bus.

We were all sitting at the dinner table, pushing Nana's

frozen fish sticks around our plates, when Mom appeared
in the kitchen. "I'm hom e," she said to no one, and plunked
her suitcase down.
We looked up at Mom and waited. John was the first to
ask, "Where'd y ou go, Mom ?"
"To the alum inum factory and back," she said, taking
off her hat.
"But Dad said y ou quit," Ellen added, taking a quick
look at Dad.
Mom sat down, sprinkled som e peas onto Mary Jean's
tray , and said, "Mom s can't quit."
After try ing ev ery thing to keep m y business afloat, I
returned to the office on January 2 , and receiv ed one of
the m ost challenging and tim ely phone calls of m y life.
MOM'S LESSON #1 8: Mom s can't quit.
4 fe
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT NOT QUITTING
I find that ev ery big success happens after I think I'v e
exhausted 1 00 percent of m y options. For m e, success
only happened after I gav e another 1 0 percent.
difficulty buy ers were hav ing in finding financing,
m ade the apartm ents v irtually im possible to sell.
I looked at the white-tile, white-tub, white-sinked
bathroom badly in need of caulking. "At least there's a
bathroom . It's lov ely ! 1 com m ented, and closed the door.
Finding buy ers for these apartm ents would be no easy
feat. Prices had plum m eted 4 0 percent since the. stock

m arket crashed in "87 and ev ery would-be custom er in

New York City still believ ed that if they waited, they 'd be
able to buy any apartm ent for less the following day .
I returned to the office and called Mr. Mendik. "I'm
afraid I hav e bad news, Bernie," I began. "There's just no
way y our apartm ents can be sold in this m arket. They 'v e
been listed for m ore than three y ears and there aren't
any takers. I'm sure y ou're aware that the apartm ents
need a ton of work and the m aintenance charges are way
out of line with the rest of the m arket. I'm sorry , Bernie, I
really wish I could help.'
"Barbara,'' Bernie responded with his tradem ark
enthusiasm , "y ou're a sm art girl! You'll figure it out." And
he hung up the phone.
Sum m er. Tom s Riv er.
Grandpa Ward was a huge m an with big hands who
liv ed in a sm all clapboard cabin in Tom s Riv er, New
Jersey . To v isit him , we took the two-hour trip sardinesty le in the back of Dad's Blue Beauty station wagon.
Grandpa Ward's house was at the end of a long dirt road,
which he shared with the chicken farm across the way .
When we arriv ed, Grandpa had already prepared the
usual lunch of warm ed canned beets that he insisted were
rich in iron and would m ake m y brothers "strong,
strappin' m en." My sisters and I quietly wondered if
wom en got strappin' too, and if not. why did we hav e to
eat them ?
We were sitting outside on Grandpas screened porch

after lunch when I heard a lot of noise at the farm across

the road. "MOM!" I y elled with m y hands cupped on the
screen door, "there's som e fancy cars pulling up to the
farm . Can we go see what's going on?"
"Just a m inute," she answered, "and well all go
together. Ellen, help m e finish the dishes, and, Denise,
put away the cups. John, sit on Grandpa's lap there and,
Eddie, wipe y our face. Barbara, stay right there, and,
keep y our ey e on Tom m y , Mary , Martin, and Jeanine."
By the tim e we got to the road, there was a line of
fancy cars, and a line of fancy city folks to go with them
waited by the gate.
"What's going on today ?' m y m other asked a lady in a
v ery shiny dress.
"What's going on?" the lady repeated, flapping a fan in
front of her face. "What's going on is that that farm er lady
gav e m e an appointm ent at noon and then let that
wom an there ahead of m e."
"I had an appointm ent at noon, too," grum bled the
bald-headed m an behind her.
"And so did we" a v ery skinny lady said, standing with
a m an by their blue conv ertible. "And, by the way ," the
v ery skinny lady added, "y ou're behind us. n
"Oh, I don't hav e an appointm ent," m y m other
explained, as she straightened the hem of her housedress.
"We're just v isiting our relativ es next door."
"What's ev ery one waiting for?" Denise asked.
"For the puppies," the lady with the fan said as if we

should know. "They 're Jack Russells, and they hav e three
of them for sale right ov er there next to the barn."
"You better m ake that tw o" a lady with a poufed head
of blond hair said as she walked past cradling a tiny
brown-spotted puppy . She was m aking baby sounds. "I got
the absolutely cutest one of all! Just look at his sweet little
face!"
The people waiting in line bristled, and Mom m ov ed us
out of the way as the line squeezed closer together. "Com e
ov er here, kids," she directed, as the fan lady hurried
through the gate, "and I'll tell y ou
what's really going on." Mom laughed to herself as she
explained: "The farm er's wife was sm art enough to get
ev ery one to com e at the sam e tim e because she knew it
would m ake ev ery one want a puppy !"
"But why would it m ake ev ery one want a puppy .
Mom ?" Ellen asked.
"Because ev ery body wants what ev ery body wants.
And when there are ten buy ers and only three puppies,
ev ery dog becom es the pick of the litter."
I had an idea! What was good for the puppies would be
good for apartm ents. The next day , I called Bernie back to
m ake an appointm ent. Bernie liked m y new idea and
asked m e to explain it to his partners later that week,
which I did. Next, I explained it to three serious m en from
the underwriting banks. And later explained it to the
e v e n m o r e serious m en from the lead lender, Chase
Manhattan Bank. And finally I explained it to the m ost

serious m en of all from the Equitable Life Insurance

Society of the United States, the m ajority inv estor. They
all seriously liked it.
By the fifteenth of January , m y last-ditch plan to sav e
m y business was in full swing.
"Here's how it works," I said to Esther and to one of m y
best agents. Tresa Hall. Tresa had agreed to be the
project's sales m anager. "I'v e priced all the studios at
$4 9 ,500. all the one-bedroom s at $9 9 ,500, and all the
two-bedroom s at $1 6 5,500."
"Ev en the high floors?" Esther interrupted.
"Yes, high floors, low floors, front apartm ents and back
apartm ents, all priced the sam e. Apartm ents with v iews
or no v iews, those with new kitchens, old kitchens, or no
kitchens at all, all priced the
sam e
"But how's that possible?" Esther asked.
C T added up all of the original asking prices, div ided
by the
num ber of units in each building, and then deducted
ten percent, because that's what people would hav e
negotiated off the price any way ."
Esther shifted slightly in her chair.
"And I'v e also taken away ev ery objection that a buy er
could possibly hav e. There's no board approv al needed
and one of the banks with a big stake in the buildings has
agreed to prov ide the m ortgages. Also, there'll be no
m onthly m aintenance charges for two wholey earsl

None!"
"'None?'''' Tresa repeated. "But that's crazy ! Who'll pay
the m aintenance each m onth?"
"The sellers will," I answered, "because it's included in
the sale price. We're sim ply giv ing the buy ers one less
check to write each m onth and m ov ing the highm aintenance objection out of the way ." I pulled out a
sam ple contract and continued, "We'll hav e the eighty eight contracts prepared in adv ance by the seller's
attorney , and we'll stack them high for ev ery one to see.
The buy ers will sign them right then and there the
m orning of the sale."
"But that isn't legal, is it?" Esther queried, as she tilted
her head to the left. "Barbara, y ou know buy ers hav e to
show the contract to their attorney before they can sign
it!"
I pulled out the big rubber stam p I had had m ade and
with one quick m otion im printed the sam ple contract on
m y desk with bold lettering:
CONSULT YOUR ATTORNEY.
YOU HAVE TWO WEEKS FROM THIS DATE
TO CANCEL THE CONTRACT AND
RECEIVE YOUR FULL DEPOSIT BACK.
Esther and Tresa looked cautiously optim istic.
At the next Monday m eeting, I announced to our
salespeople thai we had eighty -eight new co-op
apartm ents for sale, that they were located in six
different buildings on the Upper East and West Sides, and

that we were going to sell all of the apartm ents on the

sam e day for the sam e price. "Pick any studio for
84 9 ,500." I said em phatically , "any one-bedroom for
$9 9 ,500, or any two-bedroom for 81 6 5,500!"
When I wouldn't disclose the apartm ents' addresses,
ev ery one wanted to know where they were ev en m ore.
"This is not a sale open to ev er y on e and it will n ot be
adv ertised.'' I had no m oney for adv ertising, but didn't
share that fact. "We will distribute the exact addresses
and unit num bers on ly on the m orning of the sale. I ask
that y ou please tell only . I repeat on ly , y our v ery best
custom ers. And. of course, y ou can also tell v our fam ily .
The sale is lim ited to one per custom er and will take place
three weeks from today , first-com e, first-serv ed. Nine
a.m . sharp!
Ev ery one looked intrigued, and after I ended the
m eeting. I could still hear the-buz? from m y office.
Two weeks before the dav of the sale. I added fuel to the
fire by worry ing aloud to a few salespeople, "Fm a little
concerned that we m ight not hav e enough to go around.'
My whisper cam paign created a v irtual frenzy .
A week before the sale, accusations began to fly that
som eone had gotten hold of "The List" and that she was
already telling her custom ers which apartm ents were the
best ones. I quelled the rum or at that Monday 's m eeting.
"No one has the list!'' I stated em phatically to the
crowded sales floor. "I repeat. No one has the list! There's
only one list, and it's safely locked in Esther Kaplan's

drawer. Esther, please show them ! r With that, Esther

play ed m agician's assistant and walked ov er to her desk,
where she unlocked the drawer and pulled out the sheets
of ty ped paper. As she held them up and turned front one
side of the room to the other, fifty salespeople wiggled
forward for a better v iew.
"Thank y ou, Esther." I nodded. "Now, please lock it
back up!" Ev ery one watched as Esther put the list into an
env elope, put the env elope in the drawer, locked it, and
dropped the key into her purse. "Ev ery one will get the list
next Monday m orning, nine a.m . sharp!"
8:55 A.M. East Sixty -ninth Street.
"Stand back!" Tresa Hall, a form er flight attendant,
com m anded the chaotic, shov ing throng of buy ers. "I
repeat, stand back and clear the doors!"
I was shocked to see the crowd of buy ers stretching to
the end of the block. "Excuse m e, excuse m e, please,
excuse m e," I repeated as I m ade m y way up East Sixty ninth Street.
The line had started at 4 :00 a . m . , and by 8:3 0 had
grown to include hundreds of people desperate to snag an
apartm ent. Tresas v oice cut through the crowd. "We will
distribute the list of apartm ents m om entarily ," she said,
dem onstrating with broad flight attendant arm m otions.
"And we'll be handing it out starting in the front and will
work our way to the back of the line as quickly as possible.
Please note that a m ap is attached to the back of each list
with all the addresses and apartm ent num bers clearly

m arked. There are salespeople stationed on ev ery floor in

each of the buildings, the apartm ent doors are open, so
that y ou can go in and look at any apartm ent y ou choose.
Once y ouVe m ade y our decision, howev er, y ou m ust
return to this table in this lobby to sign the contract." She
directed all ey es toward the banquet table, which stood in
the lobby with eighty -eight waiting contracts stacked
high.
"When y ou are ready to sign a contract and leav e us
y our ten percent deposit check, the apartm ent will be
im m ediately taken off the m arket. Please hav e sev eral
apartm ents y ou'd like to try for, as y our first choice m ay
already be taken! You'll be giv en a copy of the signed
contract to take with y ou for y our attorney .
"Okay , then," Tresa finished, and with great cerem ony
said,
"we'll now hand out the list of apartm ents!" The crowd
inched forward and I wondered if I should hav e hired a
few uniform ed policem en to protect her, or at least for
dram atic effect.
Like a Macy 's Day Sale without the clothes, people
began to run the m om ent the list was in their hands. In
the m ay hem , ev ery one had a strategy for charting,
hunting, darting, looking, rushing, signing, and buy ing.
Som e people waited on elev ators, while others bolted for
the stairs. Som e worked alone, while others worked in
pairs.
The first successful buy er had flown in from Paris and

had cam ped in line since 4 :00 in the m orning. He signed

a contract for a one-bedroom on the highest floor, sight
unseen, six blocks away .
One sav v y couple had a pair of cellular phones and
were calling each other back and forth as they dashed
through the buildings looking at apartm ents. It was the
first day I saw cell phones in use. When they decided on
an apartm ent they liked, the husband ran to the table
while his wife kept looking, just in case. As he signed the
contract, he called his wife on her cellular and said,
"Honey , we got one, y ou can stop."
One m an rushed back to the contract table
announcing he liked the C line of apartm ents in the
building. * c It doesn't m atter which floor, I just want to
buy a C, any C." When we told him that all the C's had
been sold, he decided he liked B's, too, "any B.'"
We started the day with eighty -eight apartm ents that
nobody wanted and our com pany near bankruptcy . By
day 's end. eighty -eight proud new owners were
celebrating their good fortune, and we had eighty -eight
checks to deposit and had earned ov er a m illion dollars in
net com m issions.
MOM'S LESSON #1 9 : When there are ten buy ers and
three puppies, ev ery dog is the pick of the litter.
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT MARKETING
On the m orning of our One Day Sale, the econom y was
in a slum p and New York City real estate prices were
down. But the m arket was ready to com e back, if only

som eone would prim e the pum p. Our a eighty -eight-salesin-a-day " was its wake-up call.
The One Day Sale was a great m arketing gam bit, but
it was not a swindle. It was a fair deal, and its easy term s
enabled people prev iously unable to buy an apartm ent to
do so. It' was also a good deal lor the sellers because it
enabled them to m ake m ore m oney than they would if
they sold the apartm ents at auction.
When the last apartm ent sold, there were still another
fifty buy ers who wished they had gotten one. One guy
who didn't get an apartm ent actually sued us, say ing the
couple who used cell phones cheated. We settled the suit
by selling him the next apartm ent that becam e
av ailable.
As a result of the One Day Sale, I learned fiv e big
lessons about m arketing.
1 . Ev ery body wants what ev ery body wants.
Com petition alway s com m unicates the m essage that
there's a good deal to be had. And when people are told
that they can't hav e som ething, they want it ev en m ore.
On the day of the One Day Sale, buy ers could plainly
see the num ber of custom ers ahead of them and behind
them in line. Ev en the custom ers who weren't sure they
wanted an apartm ent decided they wanted one as the
litter thinned.
By announcing the sale date in adv ance, we set the
stage with anticipation. The "one per custom er" rule
em phasized the lad dial there was a lim ited supply , and

the pile of contracts, waiting on the banquet table, added

to the sales pressure.
None of the buy ers bailed out, because they knew
there were another fifty people in line behind them who
went hom e em pty -handed.
Create a deadline and y ou create urgency .
As long as custom ers perceiv e the v alue as fair,
urgencv can be created by setting a deadline. Our offer to
"pick any one-bedroom for the sam e price'' created
urgency as custom ers raced to pick the best one. And as
m ost people buy with their hearts and justify with their
heads, our "'sign now/think later'* strategv felt
acceptable, ev en though it was contrary to the way
business was usually done.
The biggest opportunities abound when nothing else is
going on.
Most people are afraid to step up to the plate when no
one else is around. The apartm ents sold at the One Day
Sale had languished on the m arket for three y ears. They
were sold at the bottom of the real estate cy cle.
In m arketing, all m y biggest opportunities were
alway s found in the silences. Fv e learned to look hard at
the silences.
The best tim e to answer an objection is before it's
raised.
At the One Day Sale, we addressed all the buy ers"
potential objections up front. As m ost of the custom ers
were first-tim e buy ers, the prospect of securing a co-op

board approv al was frightening. So we elim inated it.

In New York, real estate contracts are usually
prepared by the seller's attorney and then take two to fiv e
weeks of legal rev iew before signing. We said, "Sign now,
show it to y our attorney later." The ov ersized legal
warning stam ped on the front of the contract m ade the
buy ers com fortable enough to sign. Finally by pay ing the
first two y ears' m aintenance charges out of
Barbara Corcoran
so salespeople and bragged, "Our new v ideo will giv e
our Corcoran Group custom ers all the inform ation they
could possibly want. All in one conv enient place! We're
calling it Hom es on Tape. HOT for short. Get it? Now,
thanks to this innov ation, our custom ers can shop for
apartm ents any where, any tim e, sim ply by picking up a
copy of our v ideo at any of our offices and taking it hom e
for only a twenty -dollar, fully refundable deposit. It's just
perfect for the busy New Yorker!"
As I raised m y arm s into a high papal V, I v owed, "Our
Hom es on Tape will transform the way people buy and
sell real estate forev er! Now, New Yorkers will be able to
see all the property they want, without ev er hav ing to
leav e their own couch! Am en!"
The entire sales team burst into spontaneous applause
as I dram atically nodded m y head and lowered m y arm s.
Yep, I thought, this is m y best idea y et!
Sum m er. The side y ard.
Marty Joe was perched on the third-story window

ledge outside the girls' room , grinning from ear to ear.

"We're ready !" we all shouted up.
Marty 's legs looked white against his nav y -blue swim
trunks high abov e our heads. He was about to leap out
ov er the Roanes' landing into the plastic-walled, blue
m etal-fram ed pool Dad and Grandpa had set up in the
side y ard. The pool was four feet deep, but was a lot
shallower next to the house, where Dad and Grandpa
couldn't m ake it lev el against the hill.
"Are y ou sure y ou're ready ?" Marty shouted down. For
a m om ent, I thought he looked nerv ous, m ay be ev en
scared, but, then again, Marty Joe was the kid who would
try any thing.
"Com e on, let's g o, Marty Joe!" Jim m y Cleary called
up.
"Do it, Dart!" another kid added.
My brother Marty had m ore nicknam es than any
other m em ber of our fam ily . He was baptized Martin
Joseph, which was shortened to Marty Joe. Later, the kids
in the neighborhood nam ed him Martin
Jartin. That lasted until the sum m er day when he
dem onstrated his technique for throwing a dart in the air
and catching it by its tail. Blinded by the glare of the sun.
he m issed a dart as it shot back to earth, and it landed
squarely between his ey es.
The other kids' excited cries, as they watched him run
in circles like a chicken without a head, were m usic to
Marty 's attention-lov ing ears.

"Look at m e!" he shouted to the crowd like the sideshow

barker at the am usem ent park. "'Look at m e, the aam aaaazing Martin Dartin.' pierced by a fly ing dart that
went straight to his braaaaaaaaiii !
With the bloody dart poking from his forehead like a
bull's-ey e shot on a dartboard, Marty took a bow to m ixed
applause and shrieks of horror. His self-anointed nam e
stuck, and Martin Jartin becam e forev er known as
Martin Dartin. or "Dart for short.
"Dart," Michael Mertz shouted up with his hands
cupped like a m egaphone, "we don't hav e all day !'
With that, Martin Dartin leapt off the window ledge,
sailed past Mrs. Roane's landing, and hurtled toward the
shallow section of our plastic pool.
"What an asshole! m y brother Eddie shouted, as we all
scram bled away from the pool with a collectiv e gasp. We
all cov ered our ey es as Marty plunged into the water.
When we opened them . Marty was standing up in the
m iddle of the pool bowing and ev ery one ran and crowded
around the pool.
"I don't believ e it! I don't believ e it! I just don't believ e
it. we all clam ored, congratulating Marty for being aliv e.
Marty looked as am azed by his surv iv al as we were.
Shaking the water from his hair, he reached out for the
hands of his adoring fan club.
"Hey , what's happening?" Stev ie Mertz hollered as he
hurdled the front retaining wall. "What's going on, what
did I m iss?*

"Dart just jum ped off the roof and liv ed!" Tim m y Tom
proudly exclaim ed as he inched closer to Marty , try ing to
catch som e of his glow.
"And he hit the pool dead center!" Ellen bragged.
"Oh, m an," Stev ie whined, "but I didn't see it. That's a
bum m er."
Without a m om ent's thought, Marty gripped the pool's
edge, swung his m uscular legs, between his arm s, and
popped out of the pool dripping wet. "No problem !" Marty
said. "Watch m e this tim e, I'll do it again."
Before Marty 's second jum p ended, he had becom e the
town hero.
That night, while Mom pounded the chicken cutlets,
we were all still talking about Marty 's am azing feat. Mom
didn't look happy . She rolled out a sheet of waxed paper,
looked up at Marty , and said, "Jum ping out that window
could hav e m ade y ou either an ass o r a hero. You got
lucky , Marty ." As Dad cam e in the front door from
work, Mom lowered her v oice. "Since y our father's
interpretation won't m atch y our friends'," she warned,
pointing with the m eat cleav er, "y ou better keep y our
braggin' to y ourself."
Decem ber 1 9 9 3 . Corcoran West Side.
I m ade m y way down the wooden steps that leaned
precariously against the m oldy cinder-block wall in the
wet basem ent of our West Side office, right next door to
Zabar's deli on Broadway .
I pulled the string on the single lightbulb at the

bottom of the stairs, and it cast a dull y ellow light ov er

the final resting place of m y $7 1 ,000 inv estm ent.
Thirty -two piles of black v ideo boxes were stacked eight
feet high against the back wall. My Hom es on Tape idea
was dead on arriv al, and not one person cam e to "check
out" our v ideo sales tour.
My brilliant m arketing innov ation had a pair of
Achilles' heels. First, our salespeople didn't giv e out the
v ideos because they
didn't want to show custom ers another salesperson's
face or phone num ber. Second, the v ideos contained so
m any im ages that each shot clicked on and off faster than
ev en the New York ey e could possibly see.
I glared at the eight-foot pile of v ideos sucking up the
water from the basem ent floor and knew I should be
giv ing som e serious thought to how to recoup the
$7 1 ,000 I had blown on m y big idea. But. instead, all I
could think about was the next big sales m eeting and how
stupid I would look standing there in front of ev ery one
explaining why m y great idea had belly -flopped.
I clim bed back up the basem ent stairs and headed ov er
to the East Side, where I was m eeting m y husband at
Maxwell's Plum for dinner. A form er FBI agent and a
captain in the nav al reserv es, Wild Bill Higgins had just
returned from three weeks of war gam es with the I .S.
Nav y in South Korea. He was anxious to tell m e about his
trip, and. between big bites of steak, he excitedly gestured
and explained how he had play ed war gam es against

North Korea on com puter. He was a lot m ore anim ated

than usual.
"It was incredible, Barb, y ou should hav e seen it! We
fought the whole war on this new thing called the
Internet, and it was exactly like a real war. We were
m ov ing our ships and supplies as if there was really a war
going on!"
I was still bruised by the soggy im age of m y pile of
tapes and was try ing m y best to feign interest. I took
another sip of m y white wine and said, 'Didn't y ou play
those sam e gam es last y ear in Washington?'' I asked.
It was totally different. Barb." He chewed on. "We were
actually play ing war in real tim e. When the North
Koreans bom bed us, we im m ediately bom bed them back.
And when they took out our ports and highway s, we
instantly blew up their supply ships. You could see
ev ery thing on the com puter like it was actually
happening!
"Well, who won?" I asked, hoping to conclude and m ov e
on to m y subject.
He sm iled. ''''T h ey did!" he said. "And the South
Koreans went berserk! You'd think they had actually lost
a war." He gestured with his fork. "We had to keep
rem inding them that it was just a gam e on a com puter!"
"Is the Internet thing only in the nav y ?" I asked. "Made
to play war gam es?"
"No, Barb, that's just it, it's not just for gam es. Any one
can use it to exchange any inform ation with any one,

any where, any tim e, as long as they hav e a com puter.

And it's free! I'm telling y ou, Barb, this World Wide Web is
going to connect ev ery body and becom e the greatest
library of instant inform ation on the planet!"
The following week, m y salesperson Linda Stillwell
v olunteered to hav e her husband in the com puter
business register our com pany 's "dom ain" nam e on his
com puter. Then I hired the v ideo guy to put our Hom es
on Tape pictures on the World Wide Web.
January 1 9 9 4 .
"Ladies and gentlem en, today I'm proud to announce
phase two of our Hom es on Tape v ideo project! The
Corcoran Group will be one of the first com panies in
Am erica to take our listings into cy berspace!" Although I
didn't know if any one besides the South Koreans could
find our listings there, I knew for sure that I had com e up
with a plan to sav e face. Ev ery one applauded.
Within the m onth, four new custom ers found our
properties on the World Wide Web, and m y belly -flop
began to look like a heroic leap into the future.
MOM'S LESSON #80: Jum ping out the window will
m ake y ou either an ass or a hero.
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOLT INNOVATION
I'v e found that all innov ation is built on a leap and a
pray er using m oney y ou shouldn't hav e spent in the first
place, and that waiting to spend m oney on a good idea is
the business equiv alent of sav ing the good china for
Sunday .

Here are m y personal beliefs about all innov ation:

1 . People are reluctant to innov ate.
It's n ot because they don't hav e good ideas, it's sim ply
because they don't enjoy failing. The best innov ators are
great at failing. They m ight look like they 're Hy ing, but
four tim es out of fiv e they 're sim ply falling with sty le.
2 . There's no better tim e to bring a good idea to life
than at the m om ent of its inception.
The surest way to kill a good idea is to send it to a
com m ittee.
3 . Any one can hav e a good idea, but it's a rare person
who can m ake the good ideas happen.
4 . The "Big Idea" rarely com es from top m anagem ent.
\
Most great ideas com e from the little guy , told to the
big guy who listens.
5. Innov ation nev er happens in a dictatorship.
Period.
6 . Nothing new was ev er inv ented without a lot of
flops.
The best way to justify spending m oney on a new
business idea is to categorize it as "research and
dev elopm ent."
The first four custom ers who v isited our Web site were
only the beginning of the com ing wav e. In 1 9 9 3 , the
world had only fifty Web sites, and by the tim e we started
corcoran.com one y ear later, there were already sev eral
hundred. Today there are m ore than 7 m illion Web sites,

and corcoran.com generates m ore than $7 00 m illion a

y ear in sales.
Here's how I'v e used the Internet to build m y business:
1 . The idea is to be first.
When it com es to the Web, I nev er try to be perfect, I
try to be first. Our com pany was the first to put floor
plans on our Web site and the first to introduce v irtual
tours, m arket appraisals, broker profiles, neighborhood
m apping, and chat room s. None of our ideas were
original; they were just original to our industry .
2 . Hav e lunch or be lunch.
Fv e initiated m ore good things on the Internet sim ply
because I was afraid m y com petitor would do them if I
didn't.
3 . The little guy has the adv antage.
Sm all businesses can be m ore creativ e and m ov e faster
than larger businesses on the Internet. The online
m edium thriv es on creativ ity and speed. The Web is also
a great equalizer because it lets the little guy appear to be
as large as the big one.
4 . Be prepared to spend a lot m ore m oney than y ou
expect.
Whatev er y ou think the cost will be to dev elop y our
new technology , triple it. Why ? Because the Internet is a
m ov ing target that will alway s offer a better software
option the following m onth. And after y our Web site is
built, it has to be constantly adapted and im prov ed for
future use.

5. Buy the software off the shelf.

Inev itably , som eone has already dev eloped a software
program that can be tailored to y our needs. Dev elop y our
own software only as an absolute last resort.
6 . Beware of technology people who look like
leprechauns.
They weav e a m agical story , sprinkle it with fairy
dust, em pty y our pockets, and, poof!, disappear into the
forest. They speak a secret language y ou're not m eant to
understand, like "the right business m odel," which m eans
"wishful thinking,' and "beta testing," which m eans "we're
not ready y et.'' And "burn rate" is exactly what it sounds
like. Don't hire thern. Find people who can understand
y our business and explain in practical term s what needs
to be done.
7 . Use the Internet to build loy al custom ers.
Custom ers lov e the anony m ity and control the
Internet giv es them . When a custom er finds y ou on the
Web, the relationship quickly m ov es from v oy eur to pen
pal to "friend for life," faster than it does through any
other m edium . And when the custom er finally m eets
y ou, they are m ore loy al than any other.
8. Make y our inform ation two clicks away .
Consum ers consistently cite "ease of use" as their
num ber one reason for choosing a Web site. More than
two clicks is one click too m any .
9 . Put y our URL on ev ery thing.
The best way to prom ote y our online brand is through

y our offline m arketing. Put y our URL on ev ery thing y ou

print and m ake sure it's as big as y our com pany 's nam e.
1 0. Online Internet adv ertising doesn't work.
Don't be fooled. Online adv ertising is cheap for a
reason. It sim ply doesn't work.
The Corcoran Group becam e known as the industry
innov ator because we grabbed ev ery sm all opportunity
along the way to initiate change. In short, we were
consistently willing to jum p out the window.
DOS AND DON'TS OF EFFECTIVE E-MAIL
We all get a lot of e-m ail, and like other form s of
com m unication, there are alway s way s to do it better.
1 . Don't use e-m ail as a way to av oid speaking with
people. Speaking with som eone rev eals and inv okes m ore
inform ation than e-m ail ev er will.
2 . Keep it short and sweet. Short, clear e-m ails show
respect for the recipient's tim e, but terse one or two word
responses conv ey , "I hav e no tim e for y ou."
3 . Alway s use a descriptiv e subject heading to increase
y our chances of being read.
4 . Salutations like: "Hi Rarbara" giv e a personal touch
when writing to indiv iduals.
5 . Don't write in all capital letters as it's the e-m ail
equiv alent of SHOUTING.
6 . Alway s sphelchek!
7 . Billboard y ourself with an autom atic "see m y web
page" link.
8. Don t hit the send button right away . Instead, sav e

a draft and com e back to it. It will help y ou be m ore clear,

and protects y ou from say ing som ething y ou'll regret
later.
9 . Don t spam . Spam m ers are the annoy ing com puter
equiv alent to telem arketers.
1 0 . Don't send chain letters or unnecessary large
attachm ents. No one likes them .
1 1 . Learn the m ost useful e-m ail features like
autom atic signature, Out-of-Office Assistant, and
autom atic distribution lists. Learn the difference between
clicking '"Reply , "Reply to All." and "Forward.*'
1 2 . Set y our program for the subject line to be
presented first, so y ou can delete e-m ails without hav ing
to open them .
1 3 . Categorize and colorize y our groups to m ake it easy
to prioritize im portance and order of response. For
exam ple, personal correspondence can appear in red and
go into a red inbox, business contacts appear in green and
go into a green inbox, etc.
1 4 . Unless y ou're in business for y ourself, don't use
y our work e-m ail address for personal com m unication of
a sensitiv e nature. To av oid problem s with the boss,
m aintain a separate address.
"I'm not new," she quickly corrected m e.
"I'm sorry /" I apologized. "I hav en't m et y ou before, so I
assum ed y ou were new. How long hav e y ou been here?''
"Three weeks."
"Three weeks, * I repeated. "Well, I guess that seem s

like a long tim e/ I settled in for what I knew was going to

be an interesting conv ersation. "So, how can I help y ou?"
Susan crossed her legs once and then again in the
other direction. "I hav e an inv estor," she started, "and he
wants to buy big hotels in New York."
"Oh, that's good news," I said. "I can certainly help y ou
with that. Til call the two largest com m ercial firm s and
get y ou the nam e of their best broker who specializes in
hotel sales. Who's y our custom er, Susan?"
"A conglom erate," she answered abruptly .
"Okay , then, Susan," I said, "y ou don't hav e to giv e m e
the nam e, but y ou should know that y ou'll hav e to giv e
t h e m y our custom er's nam e if y ou want to collect a
referral com m ission. They 'll probably pay y ou twenty or
m ay be ev en twenty -fiv e percent of their com m ission, and
on a hotel sale that could be sizable."
Susan leaned forward in her seat. "No," she said
firm ly . "I plan to sell them m y self."
"Susan, although I can appreciate that, y ouVe only
been with us for three weeks, so y ou m ight not know that
the com m ercial sales business is a whole different kettle of
fish than residential sales. Our com pany sells apartm ents
and town houses, because that's our expertise. I'm afraid
y ou d be doing y ourself, our com pany , and. m ost
im portant, y our custom er a disserv ice if y ou tried to help
them y ourself. But if y ou refer them , y ou'll hav e the best
two com m ercial firm s in New York working for y our
custom er."

"Thank y ou." She sm iled and left m y office to go out

and totally ignore m y adv ice.
"Fm telling y ou, Barbara, this lady is going to get us in
trouble," Susan's sales m anager fretted to m e by phone.
"She's calling ev ery big hotel owner in town, asking them
to sell their property to her m y stery client, and leav ing a
wake of com plaints in her path. She has absolutely no
idea what she's talking about, and she won't listen. I think
y ou should do som ething about her, Barbara, because
ev ery thing about her spells trouble."
Susan's m anager told m e she had hired her because
Susan was v ery aggressiv e and seem ed eager to learn.
But within her few short weeks at the com pany , she had
succeeded in alienating the entire office; the others saw
her as different and resented her know-it-all attitude.
Her m anager reported that Susan wasn't interested in
learning her real estate ABCs. She knew exactly what she
wanted, which was to jum p from A to Z. And she got
lucky by snagging a big conglom erate referral when she
listed her own house for sale in Brookly n.
I waited two day s to get an appointm ent, and when
she finally prowled into m y office, it was clear to m e that
I was either going to hav e to fire her or let her do exactly
as she pleased.
"So, Susan, how's it going?" I pleasantly inquired.
"I want y ou to call Donald Trum p for m e," she
answered. "My client wants to buy the Plaza Hotel."
"Ohkaaay ," I said. "But y ou need to tell m e som ething

about y our client, Susan."

"Like what?" she asked.
"Like where he's from ," I said.
i long Kong," she aggressiv ely snapped back.
"And who exactly are they ?" I persisted.
"A conglom erate."
"Listen, Susan, I need to know m ore than that. I'll need
to know that they 're legitim ate buy ers before I can m ake
any calls for y ou."
"They 're for real,"' she stated conclusiv ely , looking
around the room as if I were wasting her tim e.
At the last toss of her hair, I was beginning to relish
the thought of firing her. I leaned back in m y chair,
try ing to arriv e at the right solution.
I tried to put m y dislike for Susan aside and had to
acknowledge that any one who was so dogged in holding
on to a client probably did hav e a big fish on the end of
the line. And by witnessing how aggressiv e she was, I
figured she would som ehow find a way to reel it in.
But I knew I couldn't hav e Susan running around
town alienating the com m ercial property owners and
risking m y reputation in the process. Susan was way out
of her league. She didn't know a dam n thing about selling
com m ercial property . In fact, Susan and The Corcoran
Group had no right whatsoev er dabbling in som eone else's
m arket.
Spring. Chicky Day ock 's house.
"Barbara Ann," Mom said, "Chicky Day ock is a v ery

nice wom an, and y ou hav e nothing to be afraid of.

Besides," she added as she put the stuffed peppers into the
ov en and slam m ed the door shut, "y ou hav e just as m uch
right as any body else to win that thousand dollars."
"But what do I hav e to do?" I asked, not hav ing a clue
what a "Good Citizen Award" m ight entail.
"Just get y our bike and ride up to her house. Make sure
y ou're on tim e." And with that, m y m other sent m e off to
Mrs. Day ock's house to com pete for the Edgewater
Wom en's Dem ocratic Club's Good Citizen Award.
Mrs. Day ock was clearly the fanciest lady in
Edgewater. Besides being the club's president, she was
also the m other of Grace Day ock, an Edgewater girl who,
unlike m e, had m ade it onto the cheerleading
squad and into the upper ranks of popularity at Leonia
High School.
When I got there, Mrs. Day ock showed m e into her
dining room and introduced m e to two other ladies who
were sipping tea from the tiniest cups I had ev er seen.
They held their pinkies high, and I wondered why all
three ladies were wearing the sam e color nail polish. With
their bouffant Jackie Kennedy hair and trendy outfits,
they looked a lot m ore sophisticated than m y m other. But
they didn't look as nice.
Mrs. Day ock offered m e the seat opposite them and
began, "So, dear, what do y o u think m akes a good
citizen?"
"A good citizen?" I repeated, fixing m y sm ile to hide m y

ov erbite.
"Yes, dear, a good citizen."
"Well ..." I began, searching m y head for the answer to
Mrs. Day ock's riddle. M nice person?'"
"Yes," she nodded, and prom pted, "a nice person and ..."
I thought for a m om ent about what else m ight m ake a
good citizen and decided, "Just a nice person, that's all."
"Oh, that's v ery nice, dear," Mrs. Day ock said as she
nodded toward the two other ladies, who nodded back.
Mrs. Day ock stood up and gestured toward the door. "We
appreciate y our com ing, dear." Needless to say , m v
pontification on good citizenry did not win m e the
thousand dollars.
When I got hom e from Chicky Day ock's, I assaulted m y
m other with m y tale of woe. "I'm m ortified, Mom , just
m ortified," I sputtered. "Ev ery one there acted like they
were m uch better than m e. And now Mrs. Day ock is
going to tell Grace about m y stupid answer, Grace will
tell the cheerleaders, and the cheerleaders will tell the
whole school! I knew I shouldn't hav e gone. I just knew it!"
Mom threw up her hands. "Enough," she said.
"Barbara Ann, just get ov er y ourself! Whether y ou won or
lost isn't ev en im portant. What's im portant is that y ou
had the right to be there. Period. Besides, taking y ourself
that seriously will only giv e y ou a heart attack."
Susan crossed her legs and shifted in her chair
im patiently . Then it hit m e. Susan Cara was sim ply a
rougher v ersion of m e. She was hungry , passionate, and

desperately try ing to fill in the blanks.

"Okav . Susan/ I said. "Since y our custom er is for real,
and since y ou need help in getting access to com m ercial
property owners, let m e suggest y ou talk to Carrie
Chiang."
"Who's she?" she snapped.
"Carrie Chiang is the num ber one broker in this firm /'
I said, 'as well as the num ber one broker in all of
Manhattan. She can get y ou y our appointm ent with Mr.
Trum p and with any other com m ercial dev elopers y ou
need access to. Com m ercial dev elopers wont giv e y ou the
tim e of day , Susan, but they 'll giv e it to Carrie. I'd be
happy to walk y ou ov er to her desk and introduce y ou
right now if y ou like."
I knew a wom an like her would find the im m ediacy of
m y offer appealing and she followed m e through the sales
area ov er to Carrie's section. Ev ery salesperson turned,
their ey es following her red plaid Chanel suit as her hips
sway ed side to side in the unm istakable age-old m essage
that scream ed, "Com e and get it!"
Carrie s office was a frenzy of activ ity . Like a taxi
dispatcher, she was working three phones at once while
two assistants shuffled files. We watched and waited for a
break. When Carrie finally looked up she said, 'Hi. Baabwa, what y ou got?"
"Susan," I answered, "and she wants to m eet with
Donald Trum p. Susan has a big inv estor from Hong Kong
that is interested in the Plaza Hotel."

"Who y our inv estor?" Carrie asked point-blank.

"Poly links Corporation," Susan answered.
"Daniel Yiu or Jefferson Wu?" Carrie shot back.
Susan was startled. "Both," she answered slowly ,
squinting her ey es and try ing to size Carrie up.
Carrie pushed a chair at Susan and com m anded, "Sit
down!"
That's how the partnership began. Susan Cara, from
Queens, representing Poly links Corporation from Hong
Kong, and Carrie Chiang, from Hong Kong, representing
Donald Trum p from New York. And both salespeople
representing The Corcoran Group.
January 1 9 9 4 . The Plaza Hotel.
Susan, Carrie, and I stood outside the Plaza Hotel
waiting for Donald Trum p. I was six m onths pregnant
and feeling a little too bloated to be standing in high heels
hustling a deal. A swarm of Plaza em ploy ees buzzed about
on high alert, m aking all the necessary preparations. In
the m idst of all the pom p and circum stance, I felt a bit
like a pauper about to witness the king's arriv al at the
palace gates.
At exactly 8:3 0 a . m . , The Donald's black lim ousine
arriv ed at the red-carpeted Plaza steps. A full squad of
uniform ed doorm en opened the Plaza's brass-plated doors,
and they tripped ov er them selv es try ing to say hello to
Mr. Trum p. "Good m orning, Mr. Trum p! Good m orning,
Mr. Trum p! Mr. Trum p! Good m orning, sir!" they all
chorused.

"Dahnul! ' Carrie shouted down, her face flushed with

all the excitem ent. "Hello, Dahnul!" She reached for
Donald's hand and pointed to m e. "You know Baa-bwa.
And this is Susan."
"Good m orning, Carrie, Susan," The Donald clipped,
giv ing Susan the once-ov er. He nodded at her
approv ingly . "Barbara," he said, hardly looking m y way .
Without another word, Donald strutted into the Plaza,
entourage, including us, in tow.
We were seated at The Donald's corner table in the
Edwardian Room , ov erlooking Central Park South and
Fifth Av enue. Donald, his financial guy , and the three of
us all awaiting Susan's clients.
A dozen waiters fluttered around Donald, attending to
his whim s. Carrie pulled out her files and slam m ed them
on the table. "I
go ov er all y our num bers, Dahnul," Carrie said
directly , "and I don't see num bers on the bank. Where
y our num bers, Dahnul?"
Donald Trum p knew Carrie well. Carrie had singlehandedly sold fifty -three condos in Mr. Trum p's
financially troubled condom inium on Sixty -ninth Street
in less than a y ear. She had sold them two at a tim e,
despite the fact that the condom inium m arket had
stum bled and all the other new condom inium
dev elopm ents weren't selling. Donald was so appreciativ e
he arranged a priv ate dinner at the Plaza Hotel to honor
Carrie for her heroic rescue. He presented her with a cake

and fifty -three candles, each candle representing an

apartm ent she had sold. Exhilarated by all the attention.
Carrie blew them out with one big breath. "In three
m onths, Dahnul," she proclaim ed, "I sell fifty -three m ore!'
And Carrie did.
Carrie and Donald continued discussing the num bers,
Carrie wav ing her arm s all the while to em phasize her
points.
"Psssst!" Susan leaned into m e and whispered. "Don't
forget the com m ission agreem ent. "
"What com m ission agreem ent?" I asked.
"Our com m ission agreem ent. We don't hav e one."
"What do v ou m ean we don't hav e a com m ission
agreem ent ? I huffed in disbelief. "Why not?" Susan
fluttered her ey elashes and let out a little-girl giggle.
"Excuse m e, Donald," I interrupted. "We need to hav e a
com m ission agreem ent."
"Don't worry about it," he answered. "We all know each
other here." And he continued to talk to Carrie.
"No, Dahnul!" Carrie said, signaling "stop" with her
open hand. "Our com m ission three percent! Three
percent, Dahnul! If Poly link buy Plaza, if Poly link buy
condos, if Poly link buy other Dahnul property , y ou-pay m e-th r ee-per centl It com m ercial com m ission. Dahnul,
com m ercial com m ission three percent. A good deal
Dahnul," she said, and waited.
"Okav . okav . Carrie, no problem ," he said, and looked
back down at the financial papers Carrie had brought.

I reached ov er and pulled the paper doily from

underneath the silv er sugar tray . I sm oothed it out, took
a pen, and wrote what I rem em bered to be the essential
elem ents of a legal contract. It read: "January 1 1 , 1 9 9 4 .
I, Donald Trum p, prom ise to pay The Corcoran Group,
and I, Barbara Corcoran, prom ise to accept a three
percent (3 %) com m ission for the sale of any currently
owned Donald Trum p properties sold to Poly links and/or
their affiliates."
I signed m y nam e at the bottom of the doily and drew
a line for Donald Trum p's signature.
"Donald," I interrupted again, "just to m ake sure
there's no m isunderstanding about the com m ission, I
wrote down exactly what we just agreed on.'' 1 I handed it
to him . "Could y ou please sign right here next to where I
signed m y nam e?" I pointed to his nam e.
Donald took a quick look. "Of course I will," he said and
signed his nam e with a thick black pen and handed m e
the doily .
I put the doily in m y purse and checked m y watch; it
was 8:4 7 . Messrs. Yiu and Wu were already sev enteen
m inutes late. "Well, Susan?" I said quietlv , "Where are
they ?" When she answered by giggling nerv ously , I
wanted to rip her long legs off her fabulous body .
Donald looked around the room . "Where are the
Chinese?" he dem anded. "Are they com ing or not?"
"Excuse m e, Mr. Trum p," Susan apologized coy ly ,
pushing a strand of hair away from her face. "I think they

m ay hav e gone to Trum p Tower by m istake. I'll go ov er

arid get them ."
Ten m inutes later, Susan returned with no Wu and no
Yiu. She was panting from her two-block sprint and
explained that her clients were nowhere to be found. By
9 :1 5, Mr. Trum p decided he had waited long enough, but
just as he got up to leav e, two Chinese m en in identical
dark blue suits walked into the Edwardian Room .
"Oh, Mr. Yiu! Mr. Wu!" Susan called, sway ing her way
ov er. "Com e, Mr. Yiu, Mr. Wu. I'd like y ou to m eet Mr.
Trum p." The Donald stood up, his six-foot-two fram e
towering ov er the two m en.
"Really nice of y ou guy s to com e in and see m e, r he
said, offering his hand. The Asians looked pleased to m eet
such a New York celebrity .
And this is Carrie Chiang," Susan continued, "Mr.
Trum ps broker."
Carrie Chiang stood up and spoke in rapid Mandarin
Chinese.
"Hen rong xing ren shi ni. Xi wang ni ci xing shun li."
"Hen shun li, chen xiao jie, v Mr. Yiu responded.
"fJo zhe li lu xing hen shun li. " Mr. Wu nodded and
agreed.
Susan looked unnerv ed as she lost control of her
custom er. She escorted them away from Carrie and ov er
to m y side of the table. And this is Barbara Corcoran, Mr.
Yiu and Mr. Wu, the president of m y com pany .
"It's a pleasure to m eet y ou, I said, shaking their hands

and sm iling. Ev ery one took a seat.

Carrie began her lengthy presentation on the Plaza
Hotel. The Chinese m en listened intently , punctuating
each of her points with nods and questioning her num bers
as she went. Carrie talked right. left, and in between,
nev er losing sight of where she was going. She pulled
papers, pointed to charts, and worked her calculator.
When it cam e to num bers, Carrie could find a needle in a
hay stack.
Donald sat quietly , looking distracted, as though he
were already inv olv ed in som e other agenda. And then he
m ade his m ov e. "I'v e got a strong gut feeling that the
Plaza is not the right deal for y ou. I keep thinking that
m y Riv erside South project m ight be m ore what y ou guy s
are looking for. It's a really big deal, a r eally big deal! It's
going to be the largest com m ercial and residential project
to ev er hit Manhattan! Fourteen city blocks right on the
Hudson Riv er! Sixteen buildings, six thousand
apartm ents, two m illion square feet of com m ercial space,
and, would y ou believ e it. underground parking for
thirty -fiv e hundred cars! Ready to build. It took m e ten
y ears to gel the city 's approv al on this big deal. And Philip
Johnsony ou know his nam e, the fam ous architect
designed the project." 1 le hesitated. "But. y ou know,
guy s, I shouldn't be talking about it."
"Mr. Trum p, thank y ou. But we hav e no interest in
new dev elopm ent deals," Mr. Yiu said. "We buy hotels."
"Okay ," Donald said, "I probably shouldn't be talking

about it any way , as we'v e just about signed a deal with

Colony Capital. They hav e a bunch of Japanese inv estors
that are pretty excited about a three hundred percent
return on their inv estm ent." Then he stopped. "But since
y ou guy s are only interested in hotels, I gotta tell y ou, the
Plaza is the best hotel in New York."
The breakfast ended at 1 0:00. As Carrie prom ised to
send the Chinese the inform ation they needed, Susan
corrected her and said, "7 7 / send that to v ou, Mr. Yiu and
Mr. Wu, by next week at the latest."
March 4 , 1 9 9 4 .
I was ly ing in the white-sheeted bed at Mt. Sinai
hospital when the phone rang. After six long y ears and
eight failed in v itro attem pts, I was aglow with the
m iracle that I had actually giv en birth to a healthy ninepound, two-ounce boy .
"Baa-bwa," a loud v oice squawked on the other end of
the phone. "Baa-bwa, it's Carrie. I on the plane, I on the
plane and I hav e Dahnul."
"Oh, that's good, Carrie," I said as I shifted to adjust the
bandages from m y C-section. Carrie and Susan were on
their way to China and were calling again to badger m e
into getting Donald's attorney on the phone.
"Baa-bwa, y ou call Dahnul's lawy er now," Carrie
instructed. "You get Dahnul's lawy er to send the papers
now. Okay ?"
"Okay , Carrie," I said. "I'm sorry I hav en't gotten to it
y et but I'v e been a little busy . Oh, and by the way , I had a

baby ."
It took fiv e and a half m onths, nineteen m eetings, two
trips to Hong Kong, 2 ,7 00 pages of faxed docum ents, and
sev enteen attorney s, but
on June 3 0. 1 9 9 4 , the deal closed, and the six
wealthiest fam ilies in Hong Kong becam e one of the
largest landlords in Manhattan, purchasing the
outstanding S3 1 0 m illion debt from the banks for the
bargain price of $9 0 m illion, plus another $8 m illion in
real estate taxes.
MOM'S LESSON #2 1 : You hav e the right to be there.
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT INVITING YOURSELF
IN
When Susan Gara interv iewed for her sales position at
The Corcoran Group, she explained how she was m arried
to a m an who owned an auto repair shop in Brookly n and
how ev ery day she serv ed the m echanics coffee and
doughnuts in the m orning, and tea and cookies in the
afternoon. Susan succeeded in selling fourteen city blocks
in Manhattan to a Chinese conglom erate. Nothing in her
background said she had the right to be there, but Susan
Cara inv ited herself in.
Susan was inexperienced. But she was also im patient,
didn't listen, knew no boundaries, and was relentless in
keeping her ey e on the ball. It was partly dum b luck that
landed the Chinese inv estors in Susan's lap, but the fact is
that once they landed, she had the gum ption to take the
ball and run.

Carrie Chiang was a prov en dealm aker. She, too, was

im patient, didn't listen, knew no boundaries, and was
relentless in keeping her ey e on the ball. Both of them
were sm art enough to recognize that each had what the
other needed. And together they m ade the biggest sale in
New York's history .
RS. To no one's surprise, Carrie Chiang continued to
sm ash her own sales records y ear after y ear. But Susans
career prov ed short liv ed. Soon after the sale, she
div orced the m echanic; she snagged herself a renowned
internist and retired to their luxurious new abode in
Westchester County .
finished. He said that although Citicorp had already
renegotiated Donald's debt of $9 9 3 m illion, they were
about to foreclose on Donald's prestigious Plaza Hotel
any way .
"Well, what Fin about to tell y ou m ight just change
y our story ," I said.
On the tenth business day of July , Donald's first check
arriv ed, hand-deliv ered by his m essenger at 4 :4 8 p.m .
The m essenger was instructed to hand it only to m e and
hav e m e sign the receipt. I called Esther, Carrie, and
Susan and waited for them to arriv e before opening the
env elope and asked Sy lv ia to im m ediately send Donald a
large bouquet of flashy flowers from Rem y 's on Park
Av enue. I asked that the florist include a note that read,
"Thank y ou for y our check, Donald. We so m uch
appreciate it." And sign it Barbara, Carrie, and Susan.

When ev ery one arriv ed at our office, we drank

cham pagne and celebrated the first of what would be our
thirty -six equal m onthly pay m ents of $55,555.55 each.
August 1 9 9 4 .
I gulped when I saw the caricature of Donald Trum p
on the cov er of New York m agazine, precariously hanging
on to the ledge of a high-rise building. I was standing at a
newsstand on the corner of Sixtieth and Madison as I read
the bold headline:
TRUMP'S NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE
By the tim e I got to the office, Donald had already
called once. When he called again, I carefully picked up
the phone and said as cheerfully as I could, "Good
m orning, Donald."
Donalds v oice barked into m y ear. "How could y ou let
Carrie and that Susan lady speak to a reporter? Can't y ou
keep y our girls in check ov er there! "
"Donald," I said, "y ou know I'm not in control of Carrie,
y ou
know how she is. And as for Susan, she's y oung and
inexperienced, and y ou cant fault her for that. But,
personally , I think today 's story m akes y ou look great! In
fact. I think it m akes y ou look like a m iracle worker"
Donald Trum p didnt agree with m y assessm ent and
abruptly hung up the phone.
When the next check arriv ed, again by m essenger, I
signed for it and instructed Sy lv ia to send an ev en larger
bouquet of flashv flowers. Two hours later, the bouquet

arriv ed back at m y office, returned by Mr. Trum p's

m essenger. On the unopened env elope was scribbled.
"Return to sender.'' I got a sick feeling in m y stom ach that
things were about to get worse.
Things got worse. The next day . the sum m ons and
com plaint arriv ed, claim ing "breach of contract." Donald
was suing us to cancel the $2 m illion com m ission (not y et
paid) and to recov er dam ages.
SUPREME COURT OF THE STATE OF NEW YORK
COUNTY OF NEW YORK X
DONALD TRUMP,
Plaintiff,
-againstTHE
CORCORAN
GROUP,
INC.,
BARBARA
CORCORAN, CARRIE CHIANG and SUSAN CARA,
Defendants. X
6 0 Centre Street New York, New York May 2 0, 1 9 9 6
BEFORE :HONORABLE IRA GAMMERMAN, JUSTICE
"Let's get a big guy !" Carrie said. "Dahnul not fair! We
need a big lawy er." Susan agreed with Carrie, but Esther
had already m et with our regular attorney and, after
rev iewing the papers, he said he was confident he could
win the case. Although I wanted to believ e in his
confidence, som ething gnawed at m e after ev ery one left
m y office.
I opened m y drawer, took out the New York m agazine
article, and found the passage that was echoing in m y
brain. Donald was quoted as say ing, "You learn that

either y ou're the toughest, m eanest piece of shit in the

world or y ou just crawl into a corner, put y our finger in
y our m outh, and say , C I want to go hom e.'''
A chill ran up m y spine.
After school. The kitchen table.
My brother Tom m y was so upset he couldn't tell m y
m other what was wrong. "Well, y ou can't stay in here all
day ," Mom said. "You should be outside play ing with the
other boy s."
"I don't w a n t to," Tom m y cried. "I don't want to go
outside and see that kid again!"
"And what kid is that?" Mom asked, wiping Tom m y 's
face with a cold washcloth.
"J-Joey B-Bunt," Tom m y said. "He say s really m ean
things to m e, Mom , and he em barrasses m e in front of all
the other boy s."
John boosted him self up on to the counter and reached
for the pinwheels that Mom kept hidden abov e the stov e.
"Isn't that the sam e kid who puts cherry bom bs in cats?"
John asked.
"He does what?" Mom asked.
"Yeah, that's him , that's the sam e m ean kid," Tom m y
sniffled. "And that's not all! He's a big bully ! I saw him
kick Mrs. Gibbon's dogy ou know, the little scrawny one
with the brown spots."
"Well, Tom m y ," Mom said, "sooner or later y ou're
going to hav e to face him , because he's probably not
planning to m ov e out of Edge water."

Yeah, and 1 1 1 go with y ou, Tom ," John offered

confident I v .
"Well, if he's a bully ,*' Mom said, "y on re going to need
m ore than two nice boy s to handle him . Let m e call Mrs.
Higgins and ask if Brendan can go with y ou.'
"We don't need Brendan to com e with us, Mom /* John
said. I'm big enough.
"Oh. no y ou're not," Mom insisted. "You'v e got to bully
a bully , and Brendan can do that easier because he's
bigger."
That day , Brendan Higgins whipped Joev Bunt's butt
and Joev nev er bothered m y brother Tom m v again.
I picked up the phone and called Carrie. "Carrie." I
said, "y ou're right. We need to find ourselv es a great
litigator to fight Mr. Trum p."
1 9 9 6 . Suprem e Court of the State of New York.
The m om ent Richard Seltzer walked into the
courtroom . I knew we weren't going to be pushed around.
Richard was just the right guy , tough enough and sm art
enough to bully a bully . I had to rem ind m y self that the
ball of fire burning up the courtroom was the sam e quiet
attorney who had spent hours m eticulously rev iewing
ev ery possible question that we m ight be asked.
Donald Trum p's claim was that, as his agent, we had
breached our fiduciary responsibility by disclosing
confidential inform ation in the New York m agazine
article. Our defense was that ev ery thing Carrie and
Susan said in the article was n ot confidential, because

Donald had already bragged the sam e details to dozens of

other reporters before the New York m agazine story ev er
cam e out.
Donald looked startled when Richard Seltzer pulled out
his stack of four-color, fiv e-foot charts with blown-up
quotes of what Donald had said, when, and to whom . He
had prepared separate boards quoting Donald spilling the
beans to the Wall Street Journal on
June 8, to the South China Morning Post on June 1 0,
to the New York Observ er on June 1 3 , and to Crain's New
York Business on June 2 0. "Are these not y our quotes, Mr.
Trum p?!?" Richard dem anded in a boom ing v oice as he
cross-exam ined Donald on the stand.
In rendering his decision, Judge Ira Gam m erm an said,
"Of all the witnesses, m y v iew is that Miss Corcoran's
recollection is the m ost reliable. I tell y ou that. . . . And I
find as a m atter of fact that there was no fraudulent
inducem ent. We hav e a bruised ego, is what this case is
all about. And Fm telling y ou, I find, as a m atter of fact,
that those are the only dam ages in this case."
We won the suit and collected the rest of our $2 m illion
com m ission.
MOM'S LESSON #82 : You'v e got to bully a bully .
^
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT BEATING BULLIES
We were paid our rightful com m ission because we
spent the m oney to hire the right attorney . Despite m y
best efforts to conv ince The Donald to settle our

differences outside the courtroom , in the end we had to

hire a bully beater so the bully didn't win.
Before finding Richard Seltzer at Kay e Scholer LLP, we
interv iewed the best litigators at other top New York law
r firm s but none of I hem m easured up to Richard Seltzer.
Here are three tips for choosing the right attorney :
1 . It's not about knowing the law.
All attorney s know the law. It's not how well they
know the law that counts, it's how well they play the law
to their adv antage.
2 . The right attorney has one unique selling
proposition.
All litigators can rattle off a half-dozen ideas on how to
defeat the opposing side. The right attorney presents and
believ es 1 00 percent in one good idea.
3 . Winning in court has m ore to do with sales and
packaging than it has to do with law.
Good litigators are great com m unicators and
exceptional salespeople. Careful preparation and
presentation of the facts is m ore im portant than the facts
them selv es.
Mi. it's Barbara," I chirped as I picked up the phone,
wondering why m y archriv al was calling m e.
"Hold for Mr. Milstein," his secretary said, and put m e
on hold in what I find to be one of the m ost annoy ing
practices of people in power.
"Good m orning, Barbara,'' a clipped but polite v oice
said on the other end of the phone. "Fd like to get together

and discuss som e business."

"Som e business?" I asked. "What kind of business?*'
"Our business," he said. "Let's discuss it ov er a cocktail,
shall we? How about tom orrow?''
"I can't," I said with relief. "I'm leav ing with m v fam ily
for a v acation in Australia tom orrow and will be gone for
two weeks."
"Fine, then let's say two weeks from tom orrow," he
agreed. "That will be the twenty -fourth. We'll m eet at m y
hom e. Shall we say four p.m .?"
Before I could say "jet lag," I had agreed to the date.
The twenty -four hours back from Australia seem ed a
lot longer than the twenty -four hours getting there, and
when I landed at JFK airport, I had exactly eighty
m inutes to find m y luggage, hop a cab to Manhattan,
change clothes, and present m y self at Mr. Milstein's hom e
on Park Av enue.
I got hom e, dropped m y luggage, threw on a suit, and
headed out. I stopped at a Korean fruit stand on Lexington
Av enue and quickly paid for a bunch of daisies. "No need
to wrap," I said, and rushed ov er to Park Av enue and
Sev enty -eighth Street. When I arriv ed at Mr. Milstein's
building, a uniform ed doorm an with lots of gold braiding
announced m y arriv al.
"Miss Corcoran for Mr. Milstein," he said into the frontdoor phone. He m otioned m e toward another m an in gold
braid, who ushered m e into a brass-gated elev ator. When
the elev ator doors opened, I didn't hav e to guess which

door was Mr. Milstein's. There was only one. The door was
m ade of gleam ing m ahogany , and
standing at attention holding it open was a m an in a
long-tailed coat. He looked as if he was dressed for a
wedding.
"Goooood afternoooon!" he said, finishing his o's and
bowing his head as if to collect a thought he'd lost. "Mr.
Milstein is expecting y ou, m 'daahm . Please follow m e."
He turned on his heel like a palace guard, and, feeling
rather awkward, I followed behind. The huge entrance
gallery was bigger than our house in Edgewater and it
had som e serious m useum -ty pe paintings hanging on the
walls. There were lots of tables decorated with the largest
flower arrangem ents Fd ev er seen. "Please wait here,
m 'daahm ," he instructed as we got to the m iddle of the
runway . "I'll tell Mr. Milstein y ou'v e arriv ed." I tucked
m y Korean deli daisies behind m y back and was thinking
about stashing them under one of the big tables when Mr.
Milstein suddenly appeared.
"So nice of y ou to com e, Barbara!" he welcom ed, while
eagerly shaking m y hand. "Perhaps we'll sit in the den,
Jam es," he said. Jam es nodded, turned on his heel, and
walked back in the direction we had just com e. I followed
along again, with Mr. Milstein bringing up the rear.
Mr. Milstein looked surprised to find Mrs. Milstein
sitting in the den. He politely introduced m e, and she
politely helloed m e back, and I decided it was as good a
tim e as any to unload m y three-dollar daisies.

I pulled the daisies from behind m y back and felt like

Tim m y Tom when he handed m v m other the gladiolus
he'd y anked from our y ard. "These are for y ou, Mrs.
Milstein," I said. Mrs. Milstein hesitated, and then took
them , ignoring the rubber band at the bottom . "Why ,
thank y ou," she said softly , "how sweet."
"You're welcom e," I said, sm iling, but som ehow felt I
had done som ething wrong.
"Let us try the library then, shall we?" Mr. Milstein
pleasantly decided, and again we trotted off into the
gallery , led by Jam es. "Good-by e," 1 quickly said to Mrs.
Milstein and the daisies.
The trip down the Milstein runway was beginning to
feel like the
flight hack from Australia, and when we finally
arriv ed at the library . Jam es cerem oniously opened the
heav y paneled doors to a huge room filled with books,
chairs, and tables and lam ps all around. Jam es stepped to
the side, folding his arm s behind his back.
"What will y ou hav e to drink. Barbara?" Mr. Milstein
asked as he m otioned to a brown leather club chair.
"White wine, please,' I said, settling in.
"And what kind would y ou prefer?" he asked with a
tight sm ile.
"White, thank y ou," I replied.
Jam es walked out. quietly closing the doors behind
him . I sat straight in m y chair, sm iling, and try ing to
figure out why I was there.

"The Corcoran Group seem s to be progressing quite

nicely ," Mr. Milstein offered.
"Why , thank y ou, Mr. Milstein," I said, scanning the
plaques, trophies, and diplom as that surrounded us. "It's
v ery nice of y ou to say that, Mr. Milstein, and I really
appreciate hearing it."
"Barbara, please call m e Howard."
"Okay , then, Howard, please call m e Barbara."
I decided to keep quiet for a while because I didn't know
what to talk about, and although Mr. MilsteinI m ean,
Howardwas talking to m e as though I was his new best
friend, I kept thinking of him as m y com petitor, and
didn't think those two things usually cam e together.
Jam es walked back in, handed each of us our drink, set
down som e sm all plates and napkins, and left.
"I really do adm ire how far y ou'v e com e with y our
com pany , Barbara," Mr. Milstein continued. "You strike
m e as a v ery sm art businesswom an."
"Thank y ou, Howard," I said, feeling m ore
uncom fortable than sm art. "But Tin really not sm art at
all, I just work really hard.* 1 took a chug of m y wine.
"Well, I'm sure y ou're sm art enough to recognize a good
business idea when y ou hear one. I think we could hav e
great sy nergism if we were to work together."
"Sinner-jizzum ," I repeated slowly . "I'm em barrassed to
adm it that I don't know what that word m eans." I realized
I was way out of m y league, and probably shouldn't hav e
com e.

Mr. Milstein closed his hands with his forefingers

raised in a V, leaned way back in his chair, and
expounded, "Well, Barbara, then let m e take a m om ent to
explain it to y ou. Sy nergism is a business term I learned
at Harv ard. It sim ply m eans joining two strong
com panies to create a stronger one that's able to do m ore
business. It's really quite sim ple, like one plus one equals
three."
"I think I get it," I said. "Yes, one plus one equals three!
You're really a wonderful teacher and y ou obv iously
know a lot about business, Mr. Milstein! Now, what two
com panies were y ou thinking about putting together?"
"What? Well, m ine and y ours, of course!"
The m ahogany doors opened and Jam es wheeled in a
large silv er cart. He lifted a tray , genuflected in front of
m e, and said, "Ooorrr durrrrv e?"
I looked down at the food in front of m e. I was
ferociously hungry and beginning to feel the jet lag and
wine settling in. The food on the tray didn't look like
any thing I'd seen before. It looked a little bit like m iniburritos, but not exactly , because it had pink stuff inside.
There were also little black things on top that looked like
chocolate sprinkles. But I leaned in for a closer look and,
though I had nev er tried cav iar before, I realized by its
wetness that that's probably what it was.
"M'daahm ?" Jam es offered, waiting in his bent
position.
I decided to go for it because I thought it would be rude

not to, and I was also really hungry . "Oh, thank y ou," I
said.
Using m y hand like the m etal claw at the Palisades
Am usem ent Park crane gam e, I reached down for the
"burrito." I tried to get a good hold on it, but it was wetter
than I thought and both the pink stuff and the cav iar
sprinkles kept sliding around. Finally , I grabbed it and
popped the sucker into m y m outh. The burrito filled
ev ery bit of m y m outh, and I could hardly chew.
Will that be . . . all, m 'daahm ?" Jam es asked without
m ov ing, his ey es wide, as if he were giv ing m e a signal to
take m ore.
I shook m y head no and answered, "Hwum m
hwm um ," which was m y stuffed-m outh v ersion of "Thank
y ou, Jam es, that will be all."
Jam es m ov ed ov er to Mr. Milstein and offered him the
tray . Mr. Milstein took a sm all silv er fork and knife and a
little plate from the table between us. He lifted a burrito
and gracefully placed it on his plate. As I continued
try ing to chew, Mr. Milstein cut off a sm all piece, nudged
it onto his fork, and tipped it into his m outh. He nodded at
Jam es and said, "Mrarara, perfect!"
Oh, God, I thought, gum m ing at m y m outhful of
m ush, so that's what the little knife and fork were for!
Girl Scouts. The Fort Lee Pizzeria.
The first tim e I ev er had pizza was with Miss Griffin
and sev en Girl Scouts. Miss Griffin, our eighth-grade
teacher, was the only Holy Rosary School teacher who

wasn't a nun. She had taken us to see To Kill a

Moc k i n g bi r d at the Fort Lee Mov ie Theater, and
afterward, we went to the Fort Lee Pizzeria to hav e pizza.
When our pizza cam e, we all lifted a slice onto our
paper plates and waited for it to cool. I followed Grace
Day ock's lead on how to eat it. Grace raised the pizza to
her m outh and chom ped down. I raised m y pizza to m y
m outh and chom ped down too. But m y teeth couldn't cut
the cheese. My ov erbite wouldn't allow it.
I kept the pizza against m y lips and looked around the
table. The other Girl Scouts were well into their slices and
hadn't noticed the pizza still stuck in m y m outh. I grated
m y teeth back and forth. but the cheese just shifted along
with m y teeth. I opened m y m outh to let go of the pizza,
folded the dented tip back onto the slice, and quietly put
the pizza back on m y plate.
When I got hom e, Mom had just finished her bath.
"What's for dinner, Mom ?" I said through the bathroom
door.
"Nothing," she answered, "dinner was at six. Didn't y ou
eat dinner with the Girl Scouts and Miss Griffin?"
"Nope."
"Well, why not?" Mom asked, as she cam e out of the
bathroom .
"My ov erbite wouldn't let m e eat the pizza."
"That's pretty funny ," she laughed. "So, why didn't y ou
ask for a plate of spaghetti or som ething? Or just a knife
and fork?"

"I couldn't," I said. "I was too em barrassed."

"Em barrassed? Why would y ou be em barrassed?"
"I didn't want any one to see m y buckteeth."
"Ha! That's ridiculous!" Mom huffed. "I'm sure the Girl
Scouts hav e seen y our buckteeth before. Besides, Barbara
Ann, y ou hav e a beautiful sm ile, and y ou should nev er be
asham ed of who y ou are. Now, why don't y ou go ov er to
the refrigerator and find y ourself som ething to eat."
Mr. Milstein spoke slowly . "Let m e explain to y ou som e
of the sy nergism s we m ight enjoy together," he said.
"Take adv ertising, for exam ple. We would hav e a lot m ore
buy ing clout and be able to negotiate substantial
discounts if we were together."
"Hm m m m , " I answered, m y ey es watering as I
swallowed the tail end of the fishy m ush.
"And we could cut the expenses of our back-office
operations in half," he suggested, "possibly in thirds. We
could also com bine our indiv idual offices and keep only
the best salespeople. I'm sure y ou're carry ing a lot of
deadwood, like we are, and together we could elim inate it.
"And y ou could run both businesses!" he enthused.
"And y ou'd be in charge of m any m ore people than y ou
are now."
Jam es cam e back in and lowered his tray to offer m e
another bur-rito. "M'daahm ?" he asked again. I stared
down at the tray of food I didn't want, but, not wanting to
offend m y host, and not wanting to offend Jam es for
offering it, I decided I'd better take another.

I looked at the little knife and fork on the table next to

m y chair. With them I could eat as delicately as Mr.
Milstein. But thinking about m y m other, I decided I didn't
want to.
"Oh, thank y ou," I said.
I lifted m y hand and craned it ov er a burrito.
Grabbing it dead center, I popped it into m y m outh.
"Mm m m . " I sm iled.
Mr. Milstein talked on and on about sy nergies, m arket
shares, dim inishing returns, and a lot of other things that
I wasn't educated enough to know about, had alway s
heard about, and didn't really care about. Then he began
his grand finale.
"Barbara, together our com panies would hav e the
m ajority control of the Manhattan real estate m arket, 7 '
he said. "And our com bined com panies could be sold for a
lot m ore m oney than if we sold them separately ."
I looked at Mr. Milstein and tried to picture him as m y
partner. Or would he be m y em ploy er? I wasn't sure.
May be he just wanted to buy m e wholesale and sell m e
retail. I didn't know.
"Well then, what do y ou think?" he asked confidently
as he inched toward m e in his leather chair.
"Would y ou like a political answer or an honest one?" I
asked.
"An honest answer, of course," he said.
"No," I said. And with that, I thanked Mr. Milstein for
the delicious food and the wonderful education and bade

him good-by e.
MOM'S LESSON #83 : Nev er be asham ed of who y ou
are.
THE LESSON LEARNED ABOUT BEING YOURSELF
Som etim es people fail to realize that their personal
points of difference are, in fact, often their best
adv antages, and that ev ery one likes and responds best to
people who are com fortable with them selv es.
Ev ery one recognizes som eone who's genuine,
especially in business, where group pressure often
im poses the status quo of expected business behav ior. I
was nev er afraid to be different and got to where I was by
being m y self. Although I wasn't fancy and didn't hav e a
business degree, I did hav e com m on sense and the ability
to laugh at m y self.
Mr. Milstein's offer turned out to be the first in a long
line of sim ilar propositions. But none of m y suitors ev er
asked what m y dream s and aspirations were befor e they
started their sales pitch. If they had, they would hav e
discov ered that m y personal goals had nothing to do with
m oney , status, or power.
But m y v isit with Mr. Milstein got m e thinking, and
for the first tim e, I realized I had a business actually
worth som ething! I decided to size up where I had been,
where I was now, and, m ost im portant, where I wanted to
go.
I realized that m y dream of being the "Queen of New
York Real Estate" had com e true. I had taken the

com pany from Ray Sim one's $1 ,000 inv estm ent and the
1 BR + DEN ad to what was about to becom e the num ber
one firm in the New York m arket. I had clim bed m y
m ountain and achiev ed ev ery thing I had set out to do,
and had prov en to m y self that I could "succeed without
him ."
Thanks to the fabulous m arket of the nineties, The
Corcoran Group was hugely profitable and had ended the
y ear with m ore than $2 billion in sales. Our salespeople
and em ploy ees were known as the best in the business. We
had twelv e beautifully designed offices equipped with the
m ost adv anced technology , and it was a l l paid for. In
short, The Corcoran Group was in m int condition.
But I had seen bad tim es, too, and considered m y self
lucky to hav e m ade it through. With our ov erhead now
m ore than a m illion dollars a m onth, liquidating m y
personal assets wouldn't be enough to carry the business
through another downturn. I knew we needed deeper
pockets.
I thought about taking on a financial partner as a
m inority shareholder, but knew that in bad tim es the
partner with the m ost m oney often wrestles away
m ajority control. I realized I was m uch too independent
for that.
What I treasured m ost about building the business was
working with all our great people and running the
com panv hand-in-hand like a fam ily . But now there were
so m any people at the com pany , I no longer knew each

person's nam e, and that bothered m e.

Most im portantly . I was now the m other of a little
boy .' and m y heart was torn between m y fam ily at hom e
and m y fam ily at work. I felt guilty when I wasn't with
m y son and guilty when I wasn't with m y business. My
pursuit of the elusiv e balance that ev ery working m om
chases was prov ing im possible.
I cam e to the realization that m y business was all
grown up, and ready to leav e m om and go out on its own.
I soon found som eone who not only offered m e the right
price, but also offered m e enough freedom and enough
latitude to continue m aking The Corcoran Group the best
in the business.
Besides, I had been "Barbara Corcoran, the real estate
lady " for so long. I started thinking it m ight be nice to see
what it was like to be just Barbara Corcoran.
I N 01 DON I HAVE BI (, BRE VSTS
2 09
All the m achines were taken, and I stood in line behind
a wom an whose gray -and-white hair was sty led just like
her Yorkie's. When it was m \ turn, I stepped up to the
m achine on the far left side, put in m y bankcard. entered
m y security code tapped "Fast Cash," then "S2 00." I heard
the fam iliar tat-a-tat-a-tat. tat-a-tat-a-tat, as the
m achine counted out the m oney , and was reliev ed to
hear the errm rk as the stack of twenties slid out the front.
I put the cash in m v Filofax and took the receipt.
On m y way to the garbage can by the front window, I

took a quick look at the receipt before tossing it in. My

arm screeched to a halt. I stared at the receipt in utter
disbelief and m ov ed it closer, squinting m y ey es to m ake
sure I wasn't im agining things. I turned m y head left and
then right like an owl, looking to see if any one was
watching. No one was. The Yorkie lady passed m e and
sm iled. Mov ing closer to the window. I tilted the receipt
toward the light to take another look.
Yes, the balance really did read $4 6 ,7 3 2 ,9 1 7 .3 2 ! 1
w a s su r e of it. My God, I thought. I'v e got to show this to
som eone! The six people standing at the teller m achines
had their backs to m e. and suddenly the thought of
showing am of them m v receipt seem ed ridiculous. But I
just couldn't go hom e. I needed to do som et h i n g to
celebrate.
I carefully folded the blue-and-white receipt in half,
tucked it into m y bra, and walked ov er to the diner next
door. I picked a scat at the em pty table by the window
and quickly straightened out the
sugar container, ketchup bottle, and salt and pepper
shakers, before the waitress cam e ov er.
"What can I get y ou, honey ?" she asked.
What the heck, I thought, III go whole hog today . After
all, this isn't just any old day ! "I'll hav e eggs Benedict, a
large glass of orange juice, and coffee, please," I said. The
waitress was wearing a rhinestone heart pinned to her
white collar, and I added, "That's really a lov ely pin y ou
hav e there."

"Oh, thank y ou," she said, seem ing grateful that I had
noticed. "It was m y m other's."
When m y eggs arriv ed, I took out the Citibank receipt
from m y bra, sm oothed out the crease, and leaned it
against the sugar dispenser. I took a sip of hot coffee and
wondered if Esther had v isited her bank y et. I laughed at
the thought of Esther quickly tucking her bank receipt
into her pocketbook and snapping it shut. I rem em bered
the chart I'd drawn the day I talked Esther into becom ing
m y partner, and the wild projections of how far we would
go. Things had turned out ev en bigger than we had dared
to im agine.
I thought about all the incredible adv entures we had
had building the business, and how lucky I was to hav e
been giv en the freedom to create a world just as I
dream ed it could be. I thought about the people who had
stood by m e through thick and thin, and how ev ery one at
The Corcoran Group had built great liv es for them selv es.
And I felt the im m ense satisfaction of a job well done.
The boring m an at the next table was telling his sister
all the news she had m issed while she was away on a trip
of som e kind. He y akked on and on about the bad
econom y , Republican politics, and the city 's terrible
school sy stem . When they were finished, the m an paid
the bill, turned to his sister, and said, "Oh, and did y ou
hear Barbara Corcoran sold her business for m egam illions?" He didn't wait for a response before adding,
"Must be nice to hav e all that m oney in the bank."

Yes, I guess it is, I reflected, but the real joy has been in
getting here.
IF YOU DON'T HAVE BIG BREASTS
21 1
I opened the packet of newspaper articles and read
through the pile of clippings.
The New York Tim es
TUESDAY SEPTEMBER 2 5,2 001
Corcoran Sells Realty Firm She Founded
Cashing Out After Years Of Rising Housing Prices
By ANDREW ROSS SORKIN
Barbara Corcoran, the powerhouse Manhattan real
estate broker, agreed y esterday to sell the firm she
founded, the Corcoran Group.
NEW YORK POST
LATE CITY FINAL
Septem ber 2 5, 2 001
It's official:
Corcoran
to Cendant
By BRADEN KEIL Following an em otionally charged
com pany m eeting last Friday , Barbara Corcoran sent a
m em o to com pany em ploy ees announcing the sale of the
Corcoran Group.
Barbara Corcoran
CHAIN'S
NEW YORK BUSINESS
October 1 -7 , 2 001

Corcoran's hom e run

. . . Although term s of the transaction weren't
disclosed, people close to the deal say it was priced at $7 0
m illion.
OUR TOWN
Queen of NY Real Estate
If y ou're looking for new digs in New York, and dwell in
one of the loftier tax brackets, chances are y ou'v e heard of
Barbara Corcoran. Ev en if y ou're hav ing trouble m aking
the rent on that studio in Astoria, y ou know her face.
She's the shorthaired blonde sporting an incandescent
sm ile in that com m ercial with the catchy song and
fabulous apartm ents. In her 2 8 y ears as head of the
Corcoran Group, she has reached the pinnacle of the
toughest real estate m arket this side of Toky o.
F VOL DON T HAVE BIG BREASTS
21 3
WOMEN'S BUSINESS
October 2 001
After Merger, Corcoran Group Rem ains Fully Intact
...and that equates to a trem endous increase in
business since 1 9 7 3 , when Corcoran began selling real
estate from her Manhattan apartm ent on a $1 000-loan
from her form er boy friend. He footed the cash for her new
v enture on the condition that he would own a controlling
interest.
Ev entually , Corcoran dissolv ed the partnership. From
that m om ent on, she was bound and determ ined to m ake

it in the real estate business on her own. By all accounts,

she has achiev ed her goal.
Corcoran has been dubbed the "m ost sought after
broker in the city ," according to CNN, and is known as the
broker to Holly wood celebrities and wealthy indiv iduals.
Exactly how did the Edgewater, NJ nativ e becom e one
of the m ost powerful figures in New York City real estate?
"Exactly how?" I repeated the article's question. "My
m other." 1 answered.
I slid a twenty under the saucer and headed back to
m y apartm ent. I had an im portant call to m ake.
"Hello, Mom . It's Barb. Can y ou get Dad on the line?
"Eddie, pick up the phone! It's Barb.'"
"Hi. Mom . Hi. Dad. You'll nev er believ e what
happened at the bank today ." I began. Then I told m y
parents about waiting in line
for the teller m achine, getting m y usual $2 00 cash,
and how I couldn't believ e m y ey es when I looked down at
the receipt. "I'm telling y ou, Mom , I just couldn't believ e
it! I thought I was seeing things!"
"Well, what did y ou do?" Mom asked excitedly .
"I did just what y ou would hav e done. I went and had
som e breakfast and sat there staring at the receipt."
"What'd y ou eat?" Dad asked.
"Eat? Oh, eggs Benedict."
"Eggs, what?"
"Nev er m ind, Eddie," Mom interrupted. "Go on! Go on!"
"So, I sat at the diner, and I thought about how it's true

what y ou'v e alway s said, Mom , the joy really i s in the

getting there."
"Well, that's because it is," she agreed. "But just think
about what y ou'v e done, Barbara! It really is
unbeliev able, isn't it?
"Yeah, I guess it really is."
And then I said what I'd wanted to say for a v ery long
tim e. "In the end, Mom , it all com es down to this. All m y
life, y ou nev er told m e I couldn't. You only told m e I
could."

HI \H\
THE END
Bonus Manual
WHAT MOM DIDN'T TEACH ME

BUT EXPERIENCE DID

INTRODUCTION

^:Ev ery great entrepreneur is a great salesperson, and I

hav e three personal beliefs about selling any thing.
1 . People want to do business with som eone they like.
Don't be m isled into thinking that sales is all about the
product. It's not. It's all about the people. It's as sim ple as
this, if people like y ou, they 're going to want to do
business with y ou. And if they don't, y ou're going to hav e
an alm ost insurm ountable obstacle to ov ercom e.
2 . Selling is nothing m ore than play ing u p the good
and play ing down the bad.
If y ou know how to do it naturally , y ou're a born
salesperson, and if not, it can be learned.
3 . Alway s rem em ber who's in charge of the m arket
y ou're selling in.
In a buy er's m arket, the buy er is alway s right. In a
seller's m arket, the seller is alway s right. But in an inbetween m arket, nobody 's rightl And it's in this m arket
that salespeople m ake the m ost m oney , because that's

when there's the m ost uncertainty and the m ost scope for
negotiating win-w in deals.
B A KBA R A CORCORAN
F YOU DON'T HAVE BIG BREASTS
PARTI
The Most Am azing,
Extraordinary , and
Distinguishing Characteristics
of Great Salespeople
1 . Great salespeople fail well.
Great salespeople get knocked down like ev ery one else,
but take a lot less tim e getting up. In fact, the lowest rate
of suicide is am ong com m ission salespeople because in the
course of a norm al day , they field so m any rejections that
ev en when life strikes them som e extra-difficult blows,
they bounce back out of habit.
2 . Great salespeople are passionate!
Great salespeople hav e an attitude of "I'll either
succeed, or I'll die try ing!" You can't fake passion. There is
nothing harder to resist than a passionate salesperson.
3 . Great salespeople m ake lousy em ploy ees.
Great salespeople are creativ e, m av erick personalities
who put a lot of effort into their jobs, and do them well,
prov ided no one tells them how to do it.
4 . Great salespeople hav e split personalities.
Great salespeople are som etim es m iserable to liv e
with, but on the outside they 're alway s m asterful
charm ers.

5. Great salespeople listen between the lines.

With great salespeople, there's no such thing as idle
conv ersation, ev en a pleasant conv ersation is really an
interv iew.
6 . Great salespeople can talk a dog off a m eat wagon.
Spend m ore than fiv e m inutes with a great
salesperson, and y ou'll walk away swearing their idea
was y our idea.
7 . Great salespeople know when to cut bait.
Great salespeople recognize when they 're n ot in the
right place, at the right tim e, or with the right custom er.
They hav e the confidence to walk away .
8 . Great salespeople believ e their success is only
tem porary .
Ev ery great salesperson ends each y ear conv inced
they will nev er hav e another good y ear. They hav e a
hard tim e believ ing they can im prov e on or ev en repeat
y esterday 's sales, until of course they do, and then the
whole cy cle of fear and accom plishm ent begins again.
BARBARA CORCORAN
I \< )U DON'T HAVE BIC BREASTS
PART 2
The Ten Reliable, Verifiable,
Absolutely Undeniable Rules
for Getting Ahead
1 . Get outside.
Selling is a face-to-face business.
2 . Dress the part.

People do judge a book by its cov er!

3 . Spend y our tim e wisely .
There are really only two hundred and twenty selling
day s in a y ear. The difference between a m ediocre and a
phenom enal perform ance is how well y ou use y our tim e.
4 . Alway s tell the truth, alway s.
Nev er fudge any thing; it will alway s com e back and
bite y ou.
5. Do y our hom ework.
Knowledge is the best shortcut to earning a custom er's
trust.
6 . Walk in their shoes.
"I understand" are the two m ost powerful words in the
sales business.
7 . Build y our referral base just like a py ram id.
The wider the base, the higher the peak.
8 . Ev ery body wants what ev ery body wants. And
nobody wants what nobody wants.
It's the basic psy chology of sales.
9 . Make a road m ap.
Without a clear plan, y ou won't know where y ou're
going, and y ou'll hav e little chance of getting there.
1 0. Go out and play .
All the good ideas are on the outside. Besides, nothing
really fun ev er happens at the office.
BA RBA RA CORCORA N I F Y O U D O N 'T H A V E BIG
BREASTS
(< > (< > (< >

PART 3
How to Make a Business Plan that Works
I'v e nev er m et a great salesperson who didn't hav e a
plan. With a good plan, y ou'll hav e a long-term v iew of
where y ou want to go and a specific way to get there.
A good business plan should m atch the way y ou think.
There's a left-brain and a right-brain approach:
It's the Money , Honey !" (The left-brain logical
approach)
The first thing y ou do is decide how m uch m oney y ou
want to m ake, and then work y our plan backwards.
Let's say y ou want to earn $1 00,000 a y ear. Figure
out what y our av erage com m ission is likely to be, let's use
$6 ,000. Now, div ide y our desired earnings by the
av erage com m ission and the answer is roughly eighteen
sales a y ear, or Wi sales each m onth.
Okay , what will y ou hav e to do to m ake IV2 sales a
m onth?
"Paint a Pretty Picture." (The right-brain v isual
approach)
This plan is for day dream ers. The first thing y ou do is
v isualize y ourself as an incredibly successful salesperson.
Where are y ou, what do y ou look like, what are y ou
wearing, and how do y ou feel? Fill in ev ery detail and
play that picture ov er and ov er again in y our m ind. This
picture becom es y our road m ap.
2 3
Okay , what will y ou hav e to do to m ake ev ery detail of

y our picture com e true?

How to Make Your Map
/. Set aside a day in y our calendar.
Set aside now.
2 . Pick a place away from y our desk.
Choose a place where y ou can't be interrupted. For m e,
the library has prov en to be the best spot.
3 . Organize y our reference m aterials.
Bring y our calendar, a list of y our past sales, y our
current custom ers, and y our leads. Also bring any
business cards y ouVe collected in the course, of doing
business.
4 . Create a contact file.
Now, m ake a list of y our past custom ers and contacts
(whether y ou v e sold them som ething or not) and put
their nam es and addresses on m ailing labels. Send
som ething to them this week and ev ery six m onths
th er eafter . Jf'Tia t y ou m ail is less im portant than that
y ou m ail.
5 . Make a list of y our indiv idual strengths and
weaknesses.
Ev ery one has different skills and talents, and to
capitalize on them y ou'll need to know y ours. If y ou cant
figure them out, ask for the opinion of people who know
y ou.
6 . Take a good look at y our past sales.
Identify where each of y our custom ers actually cam e
from and jot the source next to each nam e. With a clear

picture of y our
BA RBA RA CORCORA N I I Y O U D O N T H A V E BIC
BREASTS
best sources of business, y ou'll be in a better position to
get m ore of it.
7 . Figure out what y our custom ers hav e in com m on.
Salespeople becom e m ore successful once they 'v e
figured out who they sell best to. You'll probably discov er
that y ou sell best to people sim ilar to y ou.
8. Rate y our custom ers.
Rating y our custom ers is sim ply deciding who y ou
should spend y our tim e with. Rate them based on need.
The "A"s are the custom ers y ou should call tom orrow at
the latest, the "B"s can wait till next week, and the "C"s
should be thrown away . Don't be m isled by custom ers
with big budgets; they 're often the biggest tim e wasters.
9 . Make a "Not to Do List."
Figure out which past efforts am ounted to nothing and
label them y our "Not to Do List." Post the list where y ou'll
see it.
1 0. Expand on y our best sources of business.
With an understanding of y our best sources of leads,
y ou can play to y our strengths. For exam ple, if m ost of
y our leads are from social contacts, spend m ore tim e
socializing.
//. Find three new way s to get m ore business.
Design a m arketplace report, create a personal
newsletter, host a dinner party , produce a sem inar, be a

guest speaker, adv ertise y our serv ices, take a v acation,

etc. Pick three.
1 2 . Hire som e help.
If y ou feel ov erwhelm ed, y ou need an assistant. And
when y ou calculate how m uch y ou m ake by the hour,
y ou won't hesitate to spend the m oney . An assistant can
answer calls, schedule
appointm ents, fax, file, e-m ail, research, create sales
presentations, and keep on top of y our inv entory . Picture
y our life with less responsibility for the m inutiae.
1 3 . Set aside y our next planning day now.
Schedule a day six m onths out.
BA RBA RA CORCORA N I F V O l D O N I H A V E RIC
BREASTS
PART 4
How to Pick lip, Speak Dp, and Hang lip the Phone
Salespeople spend at least a third of their tim e on the
phone, m ore than they do working with custom ers and
showing product. And with the adv ent of cell phones and
e-m ail, ev en m ore of the sale transaction is now done by
phone. Fv e found that custom ers don't really want to talk
to a salesperson who "sounds professional." They 'd rather
speak with som eone who's friendly , enthusiastic, and
inform ed.
Checklist to get m ore out of y our phone tim e
To speak forcefully , stand up.
Standing up giv es y ou power, and since the guy on the
other end is sitting down, y ou im m ediately take the

upper hand.
Q Buy a m irror.
Put it near y our phone and sm ile info it. Sm iling on
the phone is heard in y our v oice.
Tape-record y our v oice.
Listen to y ourself while on the phone with a custom er.
The changes y ou'll m ake will increase y our appointm ents
by a third.
Use y our answering m achine as y ou would a
secretary .
Be tim e-specific as to when y ou'll return. No one would
ev er instruct a secretary , "If any one calls, tell them I'll
call them back as soon as I can/'
J Nev er answer a sales call without a backup list in
hand.
In real estate, custom ers rarely buy the house they
call on, so the salesperson needs to hav e other properties
to offer in order to win the custom er's confidence and get
the appointm ent.
Repeat back the attributes that got the custom er to
call in the first place.
When custom ers call in response to a specific
adv ertisem ent, they like what they saw, so sell the sam e
attributes back. In real estate, a custom er calling about a
newspaper ad is looking for a reason to end the call and
get on to the next one.
The objectiv e of ev ery phone call is to get the
appointm ent.

Get the appointm ent and t h e n worry about finding

the right product to show.
Nev er confess that y ou don't know som ething.
Instead say , Til find out and get right back to y ou."
Put in a separate work line or cell phone at hom e.
If y ou m ust take calls at hom e, a designated line will
allow y ou to answer knowing it's a custom er. It also puts a
lot less stress on y our fam ily .
Push the hang-up button in m idsentence.
If y ou can't get off the phone with a long-winded-goingnowhere caller, press the disconnect button while y ou're
talking. You'll end the conv ersation and the caller will
nev er suspect that y ou hung up on y ourself.
BA RBA RA CORCORA N I F V O l D O N 'T H A V E BIG
BREASTS
PART 5
How to Educate,
Motiv ate, and Satiate
the Custom er!
Buy ers com e in different flav ors. There are the
rom antics, the pioneers, the bargain hunters, and the
status seekers. If y ou want to be successful in sales, y ou'd
better be able to figure out what kind of buy er y ou hav e.
You can do that by finding out what m otiv ates him .
Checklist for working with custom ers
Alway s ask, "When do y ou want it?"
The answer will determ ine m ore than any thing else
whether or not y ou'll be able to m ake the sale. The best

answer: "I need it tom orrow." The worst answer: "Oh,

any tim e . . ."
Control the custom er's tim e.
When y ou control the custom ers tim e, y ou control the
custom er.
Make ev ery custom er feel that he or she is y our m ost
im portant custom er.
Custom ers really don't want to hear about v our other
custom ers. They should feel they 're y our only one.
Don't take a custom ers "requirem ents" too seriously .
Ev ery one wants m ore than they can afford. Validate the
custom er l\ play ing back exactly what he said and
thinks he wants. Then show him what he really wants,
but was unable to articulate.
When custom ers aren f t realistic, tell them .
Don t be afraid to tell a custom er that he's not going to
find what he wants. You'll both sav e a lot of tim e.
Show high!
A buy er will alway s justify a higher price if he sees
what he likes. As they say , "Buy ers are liars." Eighty
percent of all sales happen at a higher price than the
custom er swore he would pay .
J Ask them not to buy .
Suggesting that a new custom er sim ply "look and get
educated" on the first date m akes them trust y ou and
want to buy it ev en m ore.
Let them com pare.
Custom ers need to com pare before buy ing. When they

begin to shop, it's y our best opportunity to show a wide

range of product and s-t-r-e-t-c-h their budget.
Don't sell the wrong product.
If the custom er asks for a garage, don't show a carport.
A salesperson's job is to see what custom ers like, not tell
them what to like.
Get feedback.
Ask y our custom ers to tell y ou what they like and
dislike about ev ery thing y ou show them . Their feedback
will show y ou the way to close the sale.
Forewarn the buy er about "buy er's rem orse."
Soon after they say y es, m ost buy ers believ e their
decision was wrong. Telling them about "buy er's rem orse"
then is too late. Telling them beforehand will keep their
fear in check.
BA RBA RA CORCORA N I F Y O U D O N T H A V E BIG
BREASTS
g
J Ask for the order and then shut up/
The silence m ight seem deafening to y ou, but it's not
for buy ers, because they can end it any tim e.
Nev er expect loy alty .
You'll hav e to earn it by building the custom er's trust.
Don't waste tim e with the bottom fishers.
They 'll all still be waiting at the bottom sam e tim e
next y ear.
PART 6
How to Prepare, Present,

and Proeeed with the

Sales Presentation
Ask y ourself this question: "If y ou were buy ing y our
product, would y ou buy it from y ou?** To becom e truly
great in sales, y ou m ust genuinely believ e it's best for the
custom er to buy the product faom y oul
Checklist for m aking great sales presentations
Practice m akes perfect. Practice. Just as a perform er
nev er shows up on opening night without a dress
rehearsal, y ou should nev er practice y our sales
presentation on a custom er. Role-play ing puts y our
inhibitions to rest and results in a well-prepared,
confident deliv ery ev ery tim e.
Ask to be last in line. ^
When y ou know y ou'll be com peting in a beauty
lineup, ask for the last position. You don't want to hear
"We still hav e a few 2
other people to m eet . . .*" after y ou'v e m ade y our sales
presentation. If y ou're in the last position, y our
com petitors are out of the way .
Make sure y ou hav e the custom er's full attention.
A distracted custom er won't becom e a buv er.
BA RBA RA CORCORAN IF VOL DON'T HAVE BIG
BREASTS
Giv e y ourself a title.
The right title conv ey s power in the cu stom er's m ind,
not in y ours.
Put together an "I lov e m e!"package.

Create y our own bragging book and fill it with y our

professional accom plishm ents, custom er endorsem ents,
and any press cov erage y ou m ay hav e receiv ed. Be sure
to include a detailed biography and a list of any school,
club, or charity activ ities that y ou and y our fam ily
participate in. Don't be shy , as custom ers fall for badges
and endorsem ents. Size m atters. Pull out all the stops and
trum pet each success in the brightest color and largest
ty peface av ailable. Our best salespeople's "I lov e m e!"
packages weigh in at m ore than fiv e pounds.
Use third-party endorsem ents.
Ask for and bring letters of recom m endation from past
custom ers. Potential custom ers like to see proof of y our
success, and are m ore com fortable say ing y es in a crowd
of happy custom ers.
If y ou don't hav e it, flaunt it any way .
Borrow y our com pany 's accom plishm ents and position
them as "what we can do for y ou."
Make y ourself half of a two-person sales team .
Hav ing a sales partner im prov es y our confidence
tenfold, and the attention of t w o salespeople is irresistible
to m ost custom ers.
Take y our assistant along.
Custom ers respond well to som eone im portant enough
to hav e an assistant.
Show y our enthusiasm !
Cu stom er su r v ey s consistently sh ow t h a t enthusiasm
is the

Dum ber one reason w h y custom ers bought from a

particular salesperson. The num ber two reason is
knowledge.
J Alway s send a thank-y ou note, whether y ou won the
business or not.
Thank-y ou notes and custom er guilt lead to future
business. The best thank-v ou note is handwritten.
A RBA RA CORCORA N I F Y O U D O N T H A V E IUC
BREASTS
PART 7
How to Com m unicate, Negotiate, and Close the Sale
Num bers don't kill deals, egos do. A salesperson's job is
to control perception and keep ev ery one feeling like a
winner. If one side feels that the other got the better deal,
y ou can bet the deal will fall apart. A good deal is when
each side is a little bit happy and a little bit sad. It's also
the deal that sticks.
Checklist for negotiating the sale
Nev er take sides.
In negotiation, y ou need to stay independent so y ou
can think independently .
Get all the facts before y ou start.
A sm all objection that is easily ov ercom e soon becom es
a nightm are when it's discov ered too late in the
negotiation.
Pinpoint each side's "hot button."
A successful negotiation is far m ore likely when y ou
can figure out what's m ost im portant to each side.

 Anticipate ev ery possible objection.

It's the salesperson's responsibility to hav e an answer
ready before a question is raised. A good sales exercise is to
write down a com m only heard objection and then
brainstorm ev ery possible answer. Pick y our best three
and practice them until they roll off
y our tongue. For exam ple, when the custom er say s,
"It's too expensiv e!" y our response m ight be (a) "Yes. and it
will only appreciate ov er tim e"; (b) "Yes, and ev ery body
wants it"; (c) "Yes, and it has ev ery feature y ou want"; (d)
"Yes, and it has great tax adv antages"; (e) "Yes, and can't
y ou see y ourself owning it?"; and. finally , (f) "Yes, and it's
worth it!"
Don't carry m essages, like a carrier pigeon.
Instead, present them . Think of y ourself as a
prom inent diplom at with a m essage that m ust be
presented carefully . Instead of say ing, "I hav e a low offer
for y ou," try (a) "I hav e an excellent buy er, with
im peccable credentials, and he's asked that I subm it his
offer of $X"; (b) "I'm happy to tell y ou I hav e an all-cash
offer. It's som ewhat less than what y ou're expecting, but
the buy er is serious and he's willing to take deliv ery at
y our conv enience"; or (c) "Today 's y our lucky day ! I'v e
got a real buy er on the hook, and he's asked that I subm it
an initial offer of$X."
Paint a happy picture.
Alway s describe y our custom er as the "nice/ "sincere,
person he m ay or m ay not be.

tair
Don V let the custom er back him self into a corner.
By not agreeing with his position, y on giv e him the
opening to later rev erse his position and m ake his way
out.
Don't rush the bid.
Buy ers change their m ind when they are pushed to
buy before they 're really ready .
Don't ev er suggest an opening bid.
If y ou do, it quickly becom es the n ew asking price in
the buy er's m ind.
BARB A R A CORCORAN
II VOL) DON T HAVE BIC BREASTS
Dress up an offer by putting it in writing.
Ev ery one takes a written offer m ore seriously .
Nev er refuse a low offer.
Make a counterbid. Most deals start as low offers, and
for som e custom ers, it's a way to put their toe in the
water.
Nev er subm it y our offer without a deadline.
If there's no deadline for acceptance, a bid will often
becom e the one to be bid against.
Nev er hav e the first bid accepted.
People like to negotiate. When the buy er's first bid is
accepted, the sale feels too easy and he'll alm ost alway s
back out. Easy com e, easy go.
Q Delay a quick counteroffer.
When y ou reply "I'll try to hav e an answer for y ou in

an hour" y ou build anticipation and giv e m ore credibility

to what would hav e been a "too quick" response.
When y ou're expecting a low offer from a custom er,
forewarn the other side.
An early heads-up is alway s appreciated. It leav es the
door open and will soften the blow.
Av oid the Friday rush hour.
People like to conclude business by the close of the
business week. For exam ple, in real estate, 80 percent of
all offers are subm itted on Friday s. Av oid the com petition
and push for a Thursday offer.
If y our buy er gets cold feet, offer to show him m ore
product.
When the custom er changes his m ind about buy ing,
take the pressure off by suggesting he see m ore product. It
usually confirm s his original decision.
Nev er go back em pty -handed.
Alway s get a counteroffer, no m atter how sm all the
concession. Going back without one is the equiv alent of
slam m ing the door in a suitor's face.
Whenev er y ou're uncertain, do nothing.
It's on the firing line that y ou're m ost apt to m ake a
strategic m istake. Since v ery few sales are lost by taking
a few m inutes to think, step back and think through what
y our next m ov e ought to be. You'll hav e the general's
perspectiv e and a m uch better shot at m aking the sale.
In heated com petition, get y our custom er to put his

best foot forward.

Sm all increm ental bid increases will only driv e the
price higher and inev itably won't secure the deal.
To ov erbid another buy er, ask the seller, "what
num ber will m ake this deal happen?"
Without
knowing
the num ber, y ou're only
shadowboxing.
If y ou're asked to subm it a closed bid, m ake y our
offer an unev en num ber.
Bidding wars are often won bv a few dollars.

Share a story about "the fish that got away . "

You can create urgency by sharing a story about
som eone else who waited and lost.
BARBARA CORCORW
IF VOL' DON'T HAVE BIG BREASTS
Play y our hand to its best adv antage.
Price is not the only card in y our hand. The other
negotiating points are deliv ery date, financing term s,
warranties, and extras.
Nev er leav e only one rem aining issue on the table.
With only one question left to be resolv ed, there h a s to
be a winner and a loser.
Get it in writing.
Kisses aren't contracts.
PART 8
How to Jum p a Slum p
Sales is a business of fifteen noes to ev ery one y es. Most

sales slum ps start when com petition is stiff and one m ore
lousy custom er succeeds in wasting y our tim e. You know
y ou re headed for a slum p when y ou start taking y our
business personally .
Steps for Getting Out of a Slum p
/. Stop worry ing about the next deal.
Instead, m ake weekly appointm ent goals and write
them in y our calendar. It'll take the pressure off and lay
the right foundation for future sales.
2 . Knock that chip off y our shoulder.
It's a sure sign y ou're taking the business too
personally .
3 . Don't worry about what ev ery body else is thinking
about y ou.
Nobody 's watching and nobody giv es a dam n.
4 . Make a plan of action.
Failure is a state of m ind, but success is a state of
action.
BA RBA RA CORCORA N I I V O L D O N 'T H A V E Bl(.
BREASTS
5. Mind y our own business.
Stop com paring y ourself to ev ery body around y ou. If
y ou're m inding som eone else's business, who's m inding
y ours?
6 . Take a v acation.
Vacations are the best way to recharge y our soul. Put
aside the day s for y our next v acation now, and the one
after that, too. Slum ps nev er follow v acations.

Steps for Av oiding the Next Slum p

/. Don't go to pity parties.
There can't be a pity party without two people. "Oh,
poor m e!" needs an "Oh, poor y ou." Stay away from
com plainers; they enable y ou to fail.
2 . Stop watching the next guy .
You can't keep y our ey e on y ourself and the next guy
at the sam e tim e. It's just not true that ev ery one's
m aking sales but y ou.
3 . Don't try to sharp-shoot.
While y ou're being picky about what y ou're being
picky about, y our com petitor is out with y our custom er.
Sharp-shooting is the sales equiv alent of throwing the
dice and expecting to win ev ery tim e.
4 . Stop putting it off.
Procrastination is poisonous to success. Procrastination
breeds guilt, guilt breeds depression, and depression
breeds failure.
Best of luck
if
9/
4

< Tn
W
Whatev er Happened To . (in order of appearance)

* ... Mom & Dad?

Florence and Ed liv e retired in Florida and liv e in a
new four bedroom , three bath beachfront condom inium .
Dad relaxes in his La-Z-Boy watching his big screen TV,
while Mom washes beach towels for her v isiting twenty three grandchildren.
*k ... Ram one Sim bne?
Ray and Tina rem ain happily m arried, hav e three
ch ildr en , and liv e in suburban New York. The PogueSim one Com pany closed in the early 1 9 80s.
~k ... Gloria and the Fort Lee Diner?
Gloria bought herself a pink Cadillac Eldorado and
retired with her two well-rounded friends to Virginia. The
Fort Lee Diner is now the Magic Wok Chinese Restaurant.
7 ^ ... Palisade's Am usem ent Park?
Irv in Rosenthal sold his am usem ent park and his
stretch lim o in the 1 9 6 0s. The Caterpillar, the Giant
Cy clone, and the world's largest salt water pool were
replaced by 1 2 00 condom inium apartm ents.
* ... Maggie O'Shay ?
Until her death in 1 9 9 2 , Mrs. O'Shay continued to
pace up and down Undercliff Av enue m inding ev ery one
else's business. People regularly report sightings of her
still inspecting Edgewater's lov ely front y ards.
*k ... John Cam pagna?
My first landlord sold his apartm ent building and
m ov ed to Arizona. He e-m ailed m e after this book was
published to say , "It wasn't m y idea to ev ict y ou, it was

the super's, Charlie CTRourke!"

* ... Sister Stella Marie?
Sister terrorized the Holy Rosary School until 1 9 6 2
when she left Edgewater. She died in 1 9 9 4 and is buried
at Holy Cross Cem etery in North Arlington, New Jersey .
May she rest in peace.
^k ... Esther Kaplan?
Esther retired as the president of The Corcoran Group
in 2 001 . Esther is wealthy , liv es in New York City with
her husband and teaches adults how to read in her spare
tim e. She still carries the m ost organized purse in town.
* . . . Bill Higgins?
After y ears of counseling, Bill and I are happily
m arried. Bill dabbled with teaching m ath and science in
a Bronx elem entary school, causing his knees to be
replaced. He's now coaching our son in Little League
baseball.
* ... Dad's Blue Beauty ?
Denise learned how to driv e in Dads prized Chev y
station wagon, slam m ing the back end into the window of
the Hacken-sack Bridal Shop and forcing Dad to buy
fourteen bridal gowns. Next, Eddie learned to driv e in
Dad's dented Chew station wagon, dem olishing the front
end by driv ing it through the plate glass window of
Hiram 's Hotdog Stand in Fort Lee.
"& ... Hon Rossi?
Ron skated his way to great sales success and landed
The Corcoran Group's first m illion dollar listing in 1 9 80.

He was the first person we lost to the AIDS epidem ic and

his sty le and fun-lov ing spirit are still m issed.
ik ... Charlie s Boat?
Charlie, the old Swede, took down the old shed in 1 9 6 1 ,
towed his sailboat to the Edgewater Marina, and sailed
away .
* ...The Donald?
After his failed bid for President of the United States,
the Donald and his puffed blond helm et hav e m ov ed on to
a new career in telev ision and m ov ies.
ik ... Carrie Chiang?
Selling m ore than $1 00 m illion in real estate ev ery
y ear, Carrie holds her title as New York City 's top
condom inium broker. Carrie still calls m e "Baa-bwa."
* ... Chicky Day ock?
The elegant Mrs. Day ock resides in Edgewater and
directs its y oung citizens as the elem entary school's
crossing guard. Her daughter is m arried to the chief of
police.
IF YOU DON'T HAVE BIG BREASTS 2 4 5
7 ^ ... Richard Seltzer. Esq. ?
After Richard whipped The Donald and collected our
com m ission, he was prom oted to senior partner at New
York's Kav e Scholer LLP law firm . Richard is still beating
bullies as the city 's top litigator.
* ... #4 1 8 Undercliff Av enue?
The Corcoran House was sold in 1 9 7 8 and is again
occupied by three fam ilies. The retaining wall is still

there. Marty 's pool is gone, and the rocks are no longer
white.

Credits
Barbara's Heroic Mom
Florence Corcoran Barbara's Lov ing Dad
Edwin Corcoran Barbara's Leading Man
Bill Higgins Barbara s Business Partner
Esther Kaplan Barbara's Literary Agent
Stuart Krichev sky Bruce's Co-Star
Scott Stewart Bruce's Guardian Angel
Ray m ond Papa Littlefield B race's Literary Agent
Mitchell Waters Inspirational Teachers
Caroly n Randolph
Sandra Salinas
Dav id Wertz
Key Play ers
Scott Durkin Tresa Hall Lori Lev in Shery l Martinelli
Anita Perrone Bob Sauer Rebecca Wood
Secret Counsel Sy lv ia Alpert Ellen Carlson Mary
Cleary Jennifer Mitchell Im ogene Mullin Sy Presten
Joanne Rooney RonDeena Ross Liz Garland Sauer Jennifer
Stewart Karen William s

AA. ^sa. AA. 7 V "7 p> "7 V

President, Penguin Putnam
Susan Petersen Kennedy Publisher and Editor.
Portfolio
Adrian Zackheim Director of Marketing, Portfolio
Will Weisser Art Director
Joseph Perez Publicist
Southerly n Reisig Associate Publicist, Portfolio
Allison Sweet
Illustrator
John Segal Special Editor
Hilary Hinzm ann Special Art Director
Dom enick Lorelli Audio Director
Alisa Weberm an Production Editor
Kate Griggs Editorial Assistant
Mark Ippoliti
Credits
And thank y ou to the incredible people of The
Corcoran Group:
Guy Abernathy Abdulraheem Abdulm uid Jessica-Wind Abolafia Robin Abram ov itz Melody
Acev edo Douglas Adam s Joan Adam s Karen Adler Randy
Aiv azis Douglas Albert Griselle Aldarondo John
Alexopoulos Mercedes Alv arez Anthony Am ato Vera
Am ay a Denise Anderey a Shav on Anderson Franklin
Angeles Frederick Angeles Haruno Arai Jesse Archer
Tania Arias Dav id Arnold Am y J. Arpadi Ann Arthur
Ellen Arthur Donald Artig Antonio Astacio Nicholas

Athanail Alisson Attwood Beth Av ery Robert Av iles Brian

Babst Brett Baccus Wanda Bailey Andrew Balaschak
Victoria Banks Iona Baratz Roseann Barber Cary l Barnes
Pam ela Bum es-Moses
Jeff Barnett Enm a Baron Bo Bartlett Lindsay Barton
Debbie Baum Elissa Baum Mark Baum Sharon Baum
Michele Beaulieu Henry R. Beck Dee Dee Beckhorn
Gabriel Bedoy a Bill Begert Dav id Behin Alexandra Bellak
Arthur Bellucci Pam ela Belsky Joanne Benedict Jerem y
Bennett Michael Bennett Lara Berdine Alan Berger
Caroly n Berger Marjory Berkowitz Adrienne Berm an
Elise Berm an Cindy Bernat Richard Bernstein Antonella
Bertello Dolores Betsill Froso Bey s Isabel Biderm an Ruth
Bienstock Joan Billick Billy Billitzer Anita Black Sean
Black Marissa Blair Patrick Blakslee Cathy Blau Shelly
Bleier Sage Blinderm an
Arly ne Blitz
Kenny Blum stein
Meris Blum stein
Juanita Bobbitt
Kay Boecker
Alexis Bogen
Erin Boisson Aries
Kari Bolam
Julianne Bond
Sarah Bond
Joseph Bongiov anni
Andrew Booth

Suzanne Borowicz
Ruthann Bowers
Deanna Bowm an
Ev a Marie Bozsik
Jim Brawders
Cindy Breedy
Karesa Bridges
Elizabeth Bright
Jesus Brillem bourg
Laura Brillem bourg-Osio
Barbara Brine
Barton Brooks
Christina Brooks-Terrell
Marcia Browin-Irv in
Aly sande Brown
Brad Brown
Caroline Brown
Garret Brown
Juliana Brown
Katie Brown
Ly nne Brown
Robbie Brown
Tony Brown
Elizabeth Brownback
Irena Brownstein
Jay Brownstein
Gary Bry nes
Fern Budow

Credit;
249
Anuria Buglisi Karen Burden Frances Burgarella
Laura Burkell Sharon Burroughs Clarke Paul Burton Paula Busch Anne Butler
Marianne Bv eMiller Sofiy a Cabalquinto Judy Cacase Julia Cahill
Susan Caldwell Tatiana Carries Lisa Cam ilieri Cam ille
Cam pbell Barry Cam pm ier Tony a Canady Leighton
Candler Diane Cane Nancy Capasso Patricia Carbon Enid
Card Fabio Carli Loy Carlos Cathleen Carm ody Barbara
Casey Karen Casey Leslie Casey Danielle Cash Denise
Castagna Eric Castaldo Anthony Castellano Denise
Cataudella Benjam in Caushaj Jennifer Cella Rosem arie
Ceraso Catherine Certa Suzanna Chan Barbara Chase
Ella Chav ers Marisa Chav es
Tracy Chazin
Linda Chen Debra Cheren Carrie Chiang Linda
Chipurnoi Eun Choi Matthew Chook Suan Chow Sonia
Christian Eun Young Chung Eric Ciam bra Jane Cibener
Lenny Cicio Stev e Cid Victor Cino Mark Ciolli Peri Clark
Wendy Clark Am anda Clarke Ty rone Clerk Patricia Cliff
Warburg Carol Cohen Ingrid Cohen Stev en Cohen Kelly
Cole Tricia Cole Michael Colem an Sharon Collington Sheri
Collins Susanne Colum bia Peter Com itini Lawrence
Com roe Carm en Cook Jenifer Cook Jody Cooney Susan
Cooper Keith Copley Daniel Cordeiro Jam es Cornell
Donald Correia Antonio Cosentino William Costigan Mary

Anne Cotter Celine Coudert

Treadwell Cov ington Debby Craker Roger Creer Joann
Creighton Victoria Crom pton Peter Cronin Bill
Cunningham Sy ndi Cunto Alain Da Sy lv eira Andrea
Dam ico Dav id Daniels Luke Danziger Eric Dav id Brooke
Dav ida Penny Dav idson Eric Dav is Frances Dav is Ken
Dav is Mona Dav is Nina De Rov ira Jodi De Vita Elaine
Dean Heide Dechter Brenda Decoursey Dav id Del Monte
Elena Del Valle Paulette Dem ers Alanna Dem pewolffBarrett Allan Dennis Linda Derector Nancy DereneSeltzer Mim i Derti
Thom as Di Dom enico Marisa Dichne Carlos Diez
Kathleen Dillon Connie Dingle Dav id Disiek Max Dobens
Jeffrey Doder Janet Doerrer Dennis Dolphin Michael
Dom inick
Credits
Judah Dom ke Jerry Dong Jennifer Dorfm ann Coco
Dorneanu Roxana Dorneanu Jackie Douek Daniel Douglas
Joanne Douglas Jonathan Douglas Margaretta Douglas
Dee Downing Ann Doy le Judi Drogin Elizabeth Duchardt
Siobhan Duffy Patricia Dugan Leslie Dum ont Karen
Duncan Stephen Dunn Diane C. Dunne Scott Durkin
Joseph Dwy er Chisa Edwards John Edwards Dana Eggert
Tina Eichenholz William Eichm an Am ir El Moody Adrian
Ellias Dare Elliott Ingrid Ellis Terrell Ellis Eleanor Ellix
Viv iane El-Yachar Dav id Enloe Diane Erickson Mary
Ellen Erikson Terry Erpenbach Am anda Espinosa Luke
Ev ans Mady Faber Theresa Falgares Andrew Farber Edna

Fast
Bev erly Feingold Dennis Feldm an Peter Feldm an
Marcy Feltm an Am alia Ferrante Angela Ferrante Beth
Ferrante Am ie Fields Bruce Fields Sam arrah Fine Jay ne
Firtell Louise Fitting Thom as Fitzpatrick Sheila Flatley
Betsy Fly nn Linda Fonseca Karen Fontana Jacqueline
Fopiano Frank Ford Brett Form an Renee Form an Sheba
Forrest Mary Fortuna Joan Fox Eileen Foy Carm en
Franco Sim one Franco Stev e Frank Roby n FrankPedersen Barbara Freehill Ellen Freem an Patrice
Freem an Inna Frenkel Lorraine Friedberg Marianna
Friedm an Stev e Friedm an Martha Friedricks Charles
Fritschler Stacey Froelich Alexandre Froes Wigder Frota
Caroline Fuchs Cathy Fuerth Stephanie Gaasterland
Angelia Gabry Patricia Galante Jeffrey Gallo Jennifer
Garabedian Martha Garcia Cam ille Garelik Nathan
Garner Louis Garrett Greg Garwood John Gasdaska Carol
Gat Jam es Gates Erin Gaudreau Maura Geils Thom as
Geisler Heidi Geistwhite Sara Gelbard Alexandra George
Elizabeth Geraghty Ly nne Geras Stan Gerasim czy k
Stev en Gerber Gerald Germ any Adi Gershoni Linda
Gertler Aria Giauque Heloisa Gilbert Laurel Gilbride
Elizabeth J. Giles Louisa Gillen Justine Gilles Judith
Gilsten Arden Ginsberg Barry Giske Paul Glenn Dav id
Glick Susy n Gliedm an Caroline Gold Lisa Gold Judy th
Goldberg Am y Goldberger Maureen Goldstein Mort
Goldstein Bennett Goldworth
Credits

51
Am erica Gonzalez Isabel Gonzalez Lisa Gonzalez
Barbara Goodm an Marc J. Goodm an Linda Gorby Julie
Gordon Michael Gordon Anne Gorey Dam on Gorton
Barbara (Clem ent)
Gould Richard Gould Robbie Gould Dolores Grant
Adrienne Gratry Dav a Gray son Joseph Gray son
Christine Graziano Bob Green Cry stal Green Irsa Greene
Judith Greene Lori Greene Rhonda Greenwald Dorothy
Greiner Karesse Grenier Daniel Grey Jim Gricar Rose
Grobm an Alison Gross Lili Gross Deborah Grubm an
Marianne Guadiana Helen Guittard Ely se Gutm an
Joseph Guzzo Suzanne Halasz Gregory Hall Tresa Hall
Susan Halpern Tim othy Ham m Joy Handler Kathie
Hannaford
Donald Hannibal Elizabeth Harding Judith Harrison
Christine Harste Marsha Hartstein Atoussa Haskin
Meredith Hatfield Nicole Hatoun Stev en R. Hauser Dean
Hawthorne Benjam in Hay den Julie Hay ek Jam es Hay es
Kev in Hay es Nisha Hay es Harriet Hay nes Zachary
Hay nes Carole Healy Suzanne Hebron Margaret
Heffernan Sharon Held Barbara Heller Yv onne Hem m ing
Diane Henning Jacqueline Henriquez Eric Heras Terry
Herbert
Katrina
Hering
Dav id Hertz Barbara
Hochhauser Debra Hoffm an Eileen Hoffm an Susan
Holden Carol Holder Deborah Hollon Yury Holohan
Hilary Holt Linda Hom ler-Ferber Linda Honan Hillary
Hopkins John Hopkins Jennifer Hoxter Lily Hu Robin

Hudis
Caitlin Hughes Derm is R. Hughes Tary n Hughes Holly
Hunt Danny Huy nh Eli Ickov ic Dorian Irizarry Debbie
Isaacs Christine Iu Carol Jacobanis Alton Jam es Stev en
Jam es Carla Jean Deirdre Jennette Brian Johnson Ingrid
Johnson Michael Johnson Susan Johnson Heather
Johnson-Sargent Allison Jones Michael Jones Sharon
Jordan Bo Jung
Jacqueline Kabat Joy ce Kafati-Batarse Gary Kahn
Greg Kam m erer Christopher Kam i Joan Kaplan Rachel
Kaplan Marcia Kapp Jason Karadus Bill Karam Carey
Karm el Karron Karr Kara Kasper Masanori Kataniii
Howard Katz Sharon Katzoff Claire Kaufm an Debra
Kav aler Renee Kay e Darren Kearns
Credits
Judy krkcsi
I a m i Kellerl Carol Kelly Frank Kelly Meghan Kelly
Beth Kenkel Shaw na Kent Sarah Kerzner Cy nthia
Keskinkay a Aim o Kettle Jam es Kim Ky eong-Soo Kim
Ly nn Kim Dannie King Grant King Warren King Lucy
Kirk Naom i Klein Jan Kline Rebecca Knaster Jennifer
Knestrick Jack Koenig Larisa Kognt Karen Kohen J ana
Kolpen Jennifer Konsev itch Anna Kopel Sv etlana Kopil
Am ir Korangy Jussara Korngold Victoria Kortes Deanna
Kory Jane Kory n Gale Kotlikov a Marianna Kotly ar Ellen
Kourtides Oly a Kov aeev ic lldi Kov acs Bill Kowalczuk
Andrew Kram er I lighly ann Krasnow Roberl Krieger Peter
Krim stock Ralph Krueger

Dm itry Kruglov Irene Kruglov a Matthew Kuriloff

Em ily Kw/ok Charles'Laboz Debra Lachance Jasw/ant
Lalw/ant Stephanie Lam brecht Douglas Lam ere Jody
Lam onte Eileen Lam orte Dorothy Langan Eileen Langer
Shirley Langworthy Joseph Lapiana Rose Marie Laster
Inge Lasusa Lorraine Latchm an Maria Latchm an Mitzie
Lau Stev en Laurelli Ellie Lav i Kristi Law T Com roe
Lawrence Marc Lawrence Mitchell Lawrence Rand
LawTence Tracy LawrenceBrookm an Magalie Lazarus Christopher Leav itt
Fabienne Lecole Betty Lee Jennifer Lee Nancy Lee Susan
Lee Martine Lefebv re Richard Leitner Susanna Lendrum
Adam Leon Ellen Leon Denise LeonettiKy nm an Nora Leonhardt
Thom as Leung Isabella Lev enson Lori Lev in Abby
Lev ine Neil Lev ine Jeff Lev itas Susan Lev y Jacqueline
Lew Dav id Lewandowski Cecilia Li Nina Liebm an Pam
Liebm an Deborah Liebm anBernstein Peter Lione Rena Lipiner Rebecca Lippiner
Lisa Lippm an Kedakai Lipton Caroly n Little Fran Litwack
Charles Lobel Shelly Lobel Alexandra Loeb Rosalie Loew r
Elliott Lokitz Sheila Lokitz Jennifer Loukedis Nancy Lov e
Scarlett Lov ell Brian Lov er Courtney Lov ing Irene
Lowenkron Janet Lowry Beth Lowy Thom as Lowy Rodolfo
Lucchese Meredith Luck Frances Lucy Michael Lui
Jocely n Lum bao Vladim ir Luzader Robert N. Ly nn Nan
Lv ons
Credits

2 53
Maggie Macdonald Clarissa Mack Keith Mack Matthew
Mackay Rodney Mackay Rita Madan Melinda Magnett
Charlotte Maier Anna Makarov a Eliada Maldonado
Serena Maldonado Ely se Mallin Barrie Mandel Joanna
Mandel Zoe Mandel Dennis Mangone Jill Mangone Jean
(Gigi) Mankoff Eileen Mann Francesca Mannarino Jean
Manon Susan Mansell Maria Manuche-Allen Bob Manzari
Stev en Manzi Dav id Marangio Maritza Marcano Loretta
Maresco Nordine Marniche Iv or Marry show Leslie
Marshall William Marshall Ellen Martin Jane Martin
Kern Martin William Martin Shery l Martinelli Carm en
Martinez Gene Martinez Peter Martino Jennifer Marwood
Sherry Matay s Jam es Mathieu Keiko Matsm ura
Barbara J. Matter Dana Maurer Tam i May er Kathy
Ann Mazzola Robert Mazzola Maria Mazzuckis Joan
McArdle Bonnie McCartney Eileen McCauley Jam es
McDade Missy McDonald Eric McFarland Cindy McField
Cristina McGillicuddy Laina McGowan Valerie McKee
Madeline McKenna Joan McLaughlin Ky le McLaughlin
Deborah McLoughlin Marta McLoughlin Dan McNally
Mary Jo McNally Brian McQuade Spencer Means Jill
Meilus Rachel Melniker Felix Melo Dav id Menendez Julia
Menocal Lolis Merope Betsy Messerschm itt Lisa Mey er
Lisa H. Mey er Mary Micali Jean Michael Jeanne Michels
Scott R. Michener Laura Denise Milkowski Brandon Miller
Liane Miller Michael Mills Willard Mills III
Rodney Mim s Jerry Minsky Eileen Mintz Arm ando

Miranda Rebecca Mirkin Michael Misisco Michelle

Mizrahi Anna Moll Moers Colleen Mohan Monique Mohan
Juan Moldes Dav id Molk Pablo Montes Frosty
Montgom ery Kenneth Moore Scott Moore Millie Morales
Michael S. Moran Christine Morgan Debra A. Morgan
Ellen Morgan Gay le Morgan Anthony Morris Brian
Morris Shirley Morris Kate Morton Stuart Moss Susan
Moss Jennifer Motisi Elizabeth Mottram Danny Mui John
Muir Connie Mui-Reilly Kathy Mulkeen Jorge Murillo
Mim i Murphy Loring Murtha Lauren Muss Sara Narins
Joshua Nathanson Vicki Negron Kelly Neinast Patricia
Neinast Bettina Nelson
Credits
George Nelson Chery l Nesbit Dalia Newm an Ellen
Newm an Molly Newm an Lateny a Newton Alex Nicholas
Roseann Nielsen Chery l Nielsen-Saaf Rodney Nixon
Michael Nolan Peter Noonan Paula Nov ick Maria Nov o
Tony Oakley Daniel O'Connell Carol O'Connor Kay
O'Connor Kristina Ojdanic Erica Ojeda Shelley O'Keefe
Charles Olson Ezra Orchard Michael O'Reilly Shuli Orgad
Albert Orlick Melissa Osterhart Judy Oston Em ilie
O'Sulliv an Jessica Ott Julie Owen Nina Owens Leah Ozeri
Adam Pacelli Elan Padeh Harjit (Tony ) Pahuja Pat
Palerm o Adelaida Palm Dorian Palum bo Michael
Pangalos Sandra Papale Matt Parrella Linda Partland
Maria Pashby
Faruk Pasic Alok Patel Ketul Patel Nrupal Patel Pinkal
Patel Robert Paterson Maria Paula Georgine Paulin

Jeffrey Peckage Sandra Pedraza Lois Peerce Frank

Percesepe Carm en Perez Yolanda Perez Melinda Perkins
Stev e Perlo Anita Perrone Christian Perry Lione Peter
Rasheeda Peterson Brandon Phay Laurie Phelan Nina
Phillips R. Brian Philpott Jason Phoel Dom inique Pickens
Marc Pignitor Alexander Pisa Elizabeth Pisanchik Deirdre
Poe Johanna L. Politzer Joseph Poliv y Johanna Poltzer Christine Ponz Susan Postm an Patricia Powell Christian
Powers Joanna M. Prettitore Anne Prosser Allison Pulito
Deborah Puza-Jensen Tiesha Quinones Melissa Quintana
Jackie Ram irez
Eric Ram m e Kim Rand Robert Rankin Neeri Rao
Angela Rapoport Elaine Raskind-Ev ons Karen Rasm ussen
Steen Rasm ussen Karin Rathje-Posthum a Marly s Ray
Diana Ray zm an Shannon Reese Ahm ed Rehan Alison
Reiser Southerly n Reisig Sam antha Reiss Alfred Renna
Shlom i Reuv eni Brian Rice Denice Rich Roy Richards
Rodney Richardson Jason Riggs Jam es Rigney Monica
Rittersporn Nadine Robbins Adam Roberts Lisa Roberts
Natella Rocca Alan Roditi Ana Rodriguez Grace Rodriguez
Erin M. Roe Tracey Rogers Michael Rohrer Rey na Rojas
Rick Rom e Cc Rose
Julie Rosenblatt Jim A. Rosenbloom Lay la Rosenfeld
Beth Ross Wendy Rosset
Credit:
2 55
Bev erley Rouse Andre Rozzell Alida Rubin Dell Rubin
Jay ne Rubin Josh Rubin Barn Rudnick Elizabeth

RueckerlBetteil Gale Rundquist Leslie Rupert Charles Russell

Shelly Russell Ronnie RussoLandau Stev en Rutter Maureen Ry an Deborah Sabec
Joshua Sachs Barbara Sagan Marcy Sakhai Sherry
Sakoor Anne Marie Salm eri Marcia Salonger Vicki
Salsberg Edith Salton Carol Sam aras Ruth Sam uels
Athena Sanchez Pam ela Sanders Alan Sands Alba
Sanjurjo Maria Santander Daria Saraf Wendy Sarasohn
Ralph Sassone Sandra Sautner Kerri-Anne Scalia Howard
Schein Kathleen Scheerle Lawrence Schier Glenn Schiller
Linda Schlang Daniella G. Sehlisser
Barbara A. Schm idlin Marie Schm on Deborah
Schneider Hallie Schneider Mark Schoenfeld Christine
Scholtz Lara Schultz Barbara Schwartz John Schwartz
Peter Schwartz Shery l Schwartz Jackie Schwim m er
Elizabeth
Scordam aglia Tim othy Scott Jennifer Seda John Segal
Spencer Seid Scott Seisfer Sally Sem rad Jerry Senter Pat
Serby Hoxter Michael Serm an Sara Settem brini Adriana
Sforza Carol Shainswit Katja Sham burger Ry an Shane
Jam es Shao Tam i Shaoul Sharone Shatz Nicole Shaw
Sandy Shaw Jill Sherwood Chandra Shiwsanker \ idy a
Shiwsanker Jeff Sholeen Michael Shulm an Monique
Silberm an Vanessa Silberm an Janet Silv a Richard Silv er
Dana Sim onetti Dee Sim onson
Am y Singer Shirley Singer Susan Singer Leigh Sioris
Eddie Siso Kathy Slattery Adam Slocum Deborah Sm all-

Kornfeld Barbara F. Sm ith Jeffrey A. Sm ith Lindsay

Sm ith Lisa Sm ith Michael Sm ith Anne Snee Pat Snell
Tina Soares Jenifer Sokoloff Tam i Solom an Kitty Sorell
Melissa Sosa Keilani Soto Kim Soule Elizabeth Spahr
Em ily Spahr Ly nn Spanich Fred Specht Angelo Spells
Linda Spencer Shari Sperling Howard Spiegelm an
Richelle Spindell William Spiros Heather Spirtos Sarit
Spiv ak-Sv elitsky Man am i Squires Tim Standard Wendy
Stark John Stathis Rhea Stein Marlene Steiner William
Stephen Susanne Steward Barbara Stewart
Credits
Leah Young Dorothy Zeidm an Eric Zollinger
Pam ela Young Nela Zelensky Paul Zuinoff
Susan Xanana Iv ona Zeler Ev a Zurek
Rosem arie Zanghellini Lee Zim m erm an
Lauren Zehner Melissa Ziwcslin
And thank y ou to our new parents at The Corcoran
Group:
Henry R. Silv erm an Richard Sm ith Bob Becker
Index
Corcoran, Barbara Ann (continued) as entertainer,
xiv ev iction notice of, 1 6 -1 8, 2 2 fav orite song of, 6 0 first
ad of, 7 , 8
first com m ission of, 9 , 1 1 , 1 3 -1 4 first public speaking
experience,
1 1 9 -2 1 and Good Citizen Award, 1 82 -84 im agination
of, 2 6 , 3 0 jobs held by , xv , 1 -2 leav ing hom e, 4 -5, 4 0 as
m om , 1 89 , 2 08, 2 09 as "Queen of New York Real

Estate," 2 9 -3 0, 2 1 4 and wealth, xv , 2 1 0 Corcoran,

Denise (sister), xi,
1 9 -2 0, 2 2 , 53 -54 , 6 0,
1 3 9 -4 1 , 1 6 0 Corcoran, Eddie (Edwin III,
brother), xi, xiv , 3 5, 4 0-4 1 ,
53 -54 , 88-89 , 1 2 2 , 1 6 0 Corcoran, Edwin W. Jr. (Dad):
in bathtim e routine, 53 -54 Dairy Queen offer, 52 ev ening
routine of, 1 4 9 -50 in his own business, 1 Q-1 1 lullaby es
by , 59 -6 0 and Mom quitting, 1 55-56 and new m attresses,
7 9 -80 and sale of business, 2 1 5-1 6 signing report cards,
1 2 1 -2 2 on snow day , 87 -89 Corcoran, Ellen (sister), xi,
xiv , 3 5,
53 -54 , 6 0, 7 2 , 1 2 2 , 1 6 0 Corcoran, Florence (Mom ):
bathtim e routine of, 53 -54 on bully ing, 1 9 5-9 6 genius of,
2 1 6 ; see also Mom 's
Lessons injury to, 1 4 8-50 lawn beautification by , 1 2 1 3 on m aking up rules, 7 2 -7 3 perpetual m otion of, xiv ,
1 48
on quitting, 1 55-56 and Ray Sim one, 4 , 3 3 , 4 0 on the
right to be there, 1 82 -84 routines of, 4 0-4 2 and sale of
business, 2 1 5-1 6 on snow day s, 87 -89 on special gifts,
xiv , 3 0, 6 7 on writing y our nam e, 1 2 8-3 0 Corcoran,
Florence (sister), xi, xiv , 6 Corcoran, Jeanine (sister), xi,
1 2,
1 8, 1 9 , 1 6 0 Corcoran, Johnny (brother), xi,
53 -54 , 1 6 0,' 1 9 5, 1 9 6 Corcoran, Marty Joe, xi, 88-89 ,
1 6 0, 1 7 0-7 2 Corcoran, Mary Jean (sister), xi,
xiv , 7 9 , 9 5, 1 55, 1 6 0 Corcoran, Tom m y (brother), xi,

xiv , 53 , 54 , 9 0, 9 6 , 9 7 , 1 2 2 , 1 6 0, 1 9 5-9 6 corcoran.com ,

1 7 6 Corcoran fam ily , xi at dinnertim e, 1 8-2 0 Edge water
hom e of, xiii lullaby singers of, 59 -6 0 report cards of, 1 2 1 2 2 on snow day , 87 -89 special gifts in, xiv , 3 0, 6 7
Corcoran Group, 2 4 6 -53 ads of, see adv ertising adv isory
group of, 1 05 celebrity clients of, 1 3 2 and com m ission
doily , 1 86 -87 ,
1 9 2 -9 8 com pany retreats, 89 -9 2 , 9 4 and com petition,
1 9 9 , 2 02 cost of doing business, 1 3 7 -3 8,
1 4 4 ,1 4 7 -4 8, 1 54 -55, 1 7 6 -7 7 expansion of, 82 -85
"February Sweetheart Parties"
of, 9 6 firing low producers in, 1 3 7 -3 9 ,
1 4 1 -4 6 form ation of, 3 6 -3 8
261
hiring in. 51 , 52 -53 , 54 -57 . 6 4 -6 8
as industry innov ator. 1 7 8
as inform ation center, 4 7 -4 8, 1 3 5. 1 7 7
leadership role in. 6 1 -6 2
m arketing coach of, 6 6
m arketing div ision of, 1 53
m idweek picnics of, 9 5
One Day Sale by . 1 6 1 -6 5
organization of, 3 9 -50
Pink Elephant of, 1 3 2
profitability of, 2 07 -8
public relations for, 7 0-7 1 , 7 5-7 6 , 1 08, 1 1 6 -1 7 , 1 3 1 36
referral directors of, 84 -85

as research center, 4 7 -4 8, 1 3 5
sale of, 2 1 0-1 6
sales training in, 58-59
sm udging serv ices of, 1 3 2 -3 3
success projected for, 6 2 -6 3 , 6 4
swing m anager of, 6 6
team work in, 4 8-4 9 , 6 5, 9 3 , 1 02 -4 . 1 53
technology and. 1 7 6 -7 8
$3 5 m illion fixer-upper of, 1 3 3 -3 4
v alue of. 2 07 -8
Web site of. 1 7 4 , 1 7 7 -7 8
welcom e lady of. 6 6 Corcoran Report, The:
birth of, 7 1 ,7 3 -7 5
on condom inium s, 9 0-9 1 , 1 07 -8, 1 1 2 -1 7
creating statistics in, 7 3 -7 5, 7 6 -7 7 , 1 1 4 -1 5
publicity v ia. 7 5-7 6 . 1 1 6 -1 7 , 1 3 1 Corcoran-Sim one:
breaking up. 3 4 -3 8. 3 9
and co-op sales, 2 7 -2 9
startup of. 1 . 5-6 , 7 cost of each desk, 1 4 4 counterbids.
2 3 8 counteroffers, 2 3 9 cov er it with laughter, 1 6 -2 2
Grain's New York Business, 1 9 7 , 2 1 4 Cram er,
Herbert, 2 1 ,2 2 credibility , 7 6 , 7 7 credits, 2 4 5
custom ers, 2 2 6 , 2 3 0-3 2 custom er's tim e, control of,
230
Day ock, Chicky , 1 82 -83
Day ock, Grace, 2 04 -5
deadlines, 1 6 7 , 2 3 8
dogs, and co-op boards. 1 3 3

dream , sharing, 6 9
dressing for success, 1 4 -1 5, 55,
1 3 6 , 2 2 2 Durkin, Scott, 83 dy slexia, 3 0
early lead, taking, 82
Edge water, New Jersey , Corcoran
hom e in, xiii either an ass or a hero, 1 6 9 -7 8 Elaine
(associate), 1 02 -4 , 1 05 Ellim an, Douglas, 1 9 9 e-m ail,
inform ation v ia, 1 3 5 enthusiasm , 2 3 4 -3 5 Equitable Life
Insurance Societv .
1 58, 1 6 1 exit strategy , 1 4 4 expansion, 82 -85, 2 2 6
expectations, 1 4 3 , 1 4 4 experience v s. attitude, 6 5
failures, learning from , 6 7 , 1 2 7 , 2 2 1
fair play , 4 9 , 1 05
Fatty Patty , 7 2 -7 3
feedback, 2 3 1
filing sy stem s, 4 5
fill in the blanks, 2 3 -3 0
firing low producers, 1 3 7 -3 9 ,
1 4 1 -4 6 first bids, 2 3 8 first in y our industry , 1 7 6
fitting in, 6 5 form s, 4 4 , 4 6 -4 7
Index
Fort Lee Diner, 1 -2 , 6 Fort Lee Pizzeria, 2 04 -5 Friday
rush hour, 2 3 8 fun, 86 -9 8
ice-skating trip, 89 -9 2
photos of, 9 8
resistance to, 9 5
them es for, 9 6 -9 7
tips for, 9 4 -9 8, 2 2 3

Gam m erm an, Ira, 1 9 4 , 1 9 7 Giffuni, Joseph, 5-6 , 7 , 9 ,

1 3 , 2 1 gifts:
giv ing, 50
special, xiv , 3 0, 6 7 Girl Scouts, pizza with, 2 04 -5
Giuliani, Rudy , 2 09 "Giv e My Regards to Hoboken," 6 0
Gloria (waitress), 2 , 6 gold, shining, 6 9 Good Citizen
Award, 1 82 -84 grandstanding, 1 3 1 -3 5 griev ances, 1 05
growing a business, 82 -85
Hall, Tresa, 1 6 1 -6 5 hanging up the phone, 2 2 9
Harrison, Kathy , 1 00-1 02 Harrison, Tim m y Tom , 1 2 ,
7 2,
1 00-1 02 , 1 7 1 hav ing the right to be there, 1 7 9 -9 1
helping out, 1 4 7 -53 Henwood, Nana, xiii, xiv -xv , 1 2 2 ,
1 2 6 Higgins, Bill, 7 1 , 7 7 , 1 7 3 -7 4 Higgins, Brendan,
1 9 6 hiring, 51 -57
and firing, 1 4 3
jobs for people, 6 6
of leaders, 6 3 -6 9
and m aking space, 7 8, 80-81 , 82 -85
office assistance, 2 2 6 -2 7
and pay ing people, 6 9
want ads and, 51 , 52 -53 , 54
Holy Rosary School, Edge water,
2 5-2 6 , 1 08, 1 2 2 Hom es on Tape (HOT), v ideo,
1 6 9 -7 0, 1 7 2 -7 3 honesty , 7 7 , 1 05, 1 3 6 , 1 4 5, 2 2 2 hot
button, identify ing, 6 8, 2 3 6 housecleaning, 1 3 9 -4 1 , 1 4 2 46
ice-skating, 89 -9 2

idea box, 4 5-4 6 , 50

"I lov e m e!" package, 2 3 4
im age, im portance of, 9 -1 5
im agination, 2 3 -3 0
inform ation sources, 4 4 -4 5, 4 7 -4 8
innov ation, 9 4 , 1 7 5-7 8
Internet, 1 7 6 -7 8
inv iting y ourself in, 1 9 0-9 1
Jam es the butler, 2 00-2 04 , 2 05 joy in getting there,
2 09 -1 6 jum ping out the window, 1 6 9 -7 8
Kaplan, Esther:
business traits of, 3 6 , 3 8
and Corcoran sale, 2 1 1
and costs, 1 4 7 -4 8, 1 52
and firing low producers, 1 3 7 -3 9 , 1 4 1
ice-skating, 89 -9 2
interv iew of, 6 0-6 3 , 6 4
and One Day Sale, 1 6 1 -6 5
roles of, 7 8
and"Trum p com m ission; 1 9 3 , 1 9 5 Kennedy , John F
Jr. and Caroly n
Bessette, 1 3 4 knowing the cheers, 1 07 -1 8
laughter, 9 3 -9 8 leaders:
delegation by , 6 7
as expanders or containers, 6 5
firing low producers, 1 3 7 -3 9 , 1 4 1 -4 6
hiring, 6 3 -6 9
263

m otiv ation by , 6 8-b9

pace set by . 6 5
qualities of, 6 5-6 8
substitute. l > 4
support from . 6 7
wom en v s. m en as, 6 5 Lom an. Willy , 1 0b loy alty . 6 9 ,
2 3 2 luilaby es. 59 -6 0
Madonna. 1 3 2
m akeup artist. 1 3 6
m aking spaghetti. 9 9 -1 06
m aking up the rules. 7 0-7 7
m arketing. 1 58-6 8
com petition and. 1 6 1 . 1 6 6 -6 8 One Day Sale, 1 6 6
m arketplace, control of. 84 -85
m edia attention, how to grab, 1 3 1 -3 5
m eetings, 4 3 , 4 8
Mendik. Bernie. 1 58-59 . 1 6 1
Mertz. Mean Michael, 7 2 -7 3 . 1 02 -4 . 1 7 1
Mertz. Stev ie. 1 7 1 -7 2
Milstein. Howard, 1 9 9 -2 04 , 2 05-6 , 2 07
m om s can't quit. 1 54 -57
Mom s Lessons:
alwav s room for one m ore,
7 8-3 5 be in two places at once, 58-6 9 bully a bully .
1 9 2 -9 8 cov er it with laughter, 1 6 -2 2 ev erv dog is the
pick of the litter.
1 58-6 8 ev ery one helps m ash the
potatoes. 1 4 7 -53 fill in the blanks. 2 3 -3 0 go play

outside. 86 -9 8 joy is in getting there, 2 09 -1 6 know the

cheers. 1 07 -1 8 m ake up y our own rules. 7 0-7 7 m om s
cant quit. 1 54 -57
nev er be asham ed of who y ou
are. 1 9 9 -2 08 offer the bigger piece. 3 1 -3 8 paint the
rocks white. 9 -1 5 put ribbons on y our pigtails. 1 -8 put
socks in sock drawer, 3 9 -50 see how big y ou are, 1 1 9 -2 7
set up a routine, 51 -57 sweep the corners, 1 3 7 -4 6 they 're
not m aking spaghetti.
9 9 -1 06 write v our nam e on the wall.
1 2 8-3 6 y ou hav e the right to be there,
1 7 9 -9 1 y ou're either an ass or a hero,
1 6 9 -7 8 m otiv ation. 6 8-6 9 . 2 3 0-3 2
negotiating a price. 6 8-6 9 negotiating the sale. 2 3 6
tO nev er be asham ed of who v ou are.
1 9 9 -2 08 new ideas. 9 4 . 1 7 5-7 8 news, m aking. 1 3 1 -3 6
New York City :
apartm ent sales in. 2 3 -2 4 . 2 6 -2 9
condosin. 9 0-9 1 . 1 07 -8. 1 1 2 -1 7 , 1 2 6
co-ops in. 2 6 -2 9 . 1 3 3
highest-priced sale in. 1 3 5
JFK Jr.'s loft in. 1 3 4
ov erbidding in, 8b
real estate contracts in, 1 6 7 -1 6 8
rent control laws in. 2 6
Septem ber 1 1 attack on, 2 09
Yanderbilt Mansion in, 1 3 3 -3 4 New York m agazine.
1 9 2 -9 3 , 1 9 5.

1 9 6 New York Observ er, 1 l) ~ New York Post. 2 1 3

New York Tim es. 7 57 6 , 2 1 2
Index
New York Univ ersity School of Continuing Education,
1 2 3 -2 5, 1 2 6
Norm a (salesperson), 3 6 -3 7
objections, answering, 1 6 7 -6 8,
2 3 6 -3 7 offer the bigger piece, 3 1 -3 8 office sharing,
83 -84 office wall, painting of, 1 3 6 One Day Sale, 1 6 1 -6 5
online adv ertising, 1 7 8 opportunity , finding, 1 6 -2 2 , 1 6 7
organization, 3 9 -50
color coding, 4 3 -4 4 , 4 9 -50
and fair play , 4 9
filing sy stem s, 4 5
form s, 4 4 , 4 6 -4 7
idea box, 4 5-4 6 , 50
inform ation sources, 4 4 -4 5, 4 7 -4 8
m eeting schedule, 4 3 , 4 8
routines, 51 -57
and team work, 4 8-4 9 O'Rourke, Mr. (super), 1 1 , 2 1 2 2 O'Shay , Maggie, 1 1 -1 3 ov erbidding, 2 3 9 ov erhead,
1 44
painting the office wall, 1 3 6 paint the rocks white, 9 1 5 Palisades Am usem ent Park, 2 perception, reality
created by , 1 5 perfection, as lost hope, 6 5 personality ,
letting it shine, 1 -8 phone techniques, 2 2 8-2 9 pick of the
litter, 1 58-6 8 Pickpocket, 1 04 -5 Pink Elephant, 1 3 2 plain
talk, 1 3 5-3 6 planning, 2 2 3 , 2 2 4 -2 7 play y our hand, 2 4 0

Poly links Corporation, 1 84 -89 positiv e, m axim izing, 8,

2 1 9 preparation, 1 07 -1 8, 1 2 0-2 1 , 2 2 2
presenting, 2 3 3 -3 5 procrastination, 2 4 2 public
relations, 7 0-7 1 , 7 5-7 6 , 1 1 6 -1 7
dealing with reporters, 1 3 5-3 6
as getting noticed, 1 3 1 -3 5
m akeup artist for, 1 3 6
self-prom otion, 1 08
third-partv endorsem ent in, 7 6 , 1 3 4 public speaking,
1 1 9 -2 1
raises v s. bonuses, 6 9
Rather, Dan, 1 3 4
real estate contracts, 1 6 7 -6 8
referral base, building, 2 2 3
referral directors, 84 -85
rejection, handling, 2 2 1
rent control, 2 6
reporters, dealing with, 1 3 5-3 6
responsibility , sharing of, 6 3 -6 4
ribbons on y our pigtails, 1 -8
risks:
growing a business, 82 -85
and happy endings, 1 6 8
hav ing fun, 9 7
and innov ation, 1 7 5-7 8
jum ping out the window, 1 6 9 -7 8 road m aps, 2 2 3 ,
2 2 4 -2 7 Roane fam ily , xiii Rocciano, Rocky , 1 1 4 room for
one m ore, 7 8-85 Rosenthal, Irv in, 2 Rossi, Ron, 9 1

routines, hiring, 51 , 52 -53 , 54 -57 rules for sales, 2 2 2 23

St. Cecilia's Catholic High School,
1 08-9 salesm anship:
com petition in, 57
handling rejection, 2 2 1
m axim izing the positiv e in, 8, 2 1 9
as outside activ ity , 2 2 2
265
sales m anual. 2 1 7 Vl closing, 2 3 6 -4 0 custorners,
2 2 6 , 2 3 0-3 2
phoning. 2 2 8-2 9
planning, 2 2 4 -2 T 7
presenting. 2 3 3 -3 5
rules, 2 2 2 -2 3
slum ps, 2 4 1 -4 2
traits, 2 2 0-2 1 ,2 2 5 sales partners, 2 3 4 sales
presentation, 2 3 3 -3 5 sales training, 58-59 satellite
offices, 84 see how big y ou are. 1 1 9 -2 7 self-doubt, 1 1 8
self-esteem . 1 9 9 -2 08 sellers m arket, 2 1 9 Seltzer,
Richard, 1 9 6 , 1 9 7 sharp-shooting, 2 4 2 show high. 2 3 1
Showing Heinies Club, 1 01 -2 Sim on, Vicki, 3 1 -3 2
Sim one, Ram one (Rav Sim on),
1 -6 ,3 1 -3 8,2 07 sim plicity , 7 6 slum ps, 2 4 1 -4 2 sm all
business, 1 7 6 sm udging, 1 3 2 -3 3 Snail Gam e, 7 2 -7 3 snow
day , 87 -89 socializing, 9 3 socks in sock drawer, 3 9 -50
Solom on, Stev e, 7 1 som ebody , becom ing, 7 5-7 6
Sotheby 's, 1 3 4

South China Morning Post, 1 9 7 space, expanding, 82 85 spaghetti, m aking, 9 9 -1 02 splitting the pie, 3 1 -3 8
standing tall, 1 2 6 -2 7 statistical reports, creating. 7 3 -7 5.
7 6 -7 7 , 1 1 4 -1 5 Stella Marie. Sister. 2 4 -2 6 , 3 0, 3 2 , 1 08
Stfflwell, Linda, 1 7 2
success, tem poral) nature of, 2 2 1 surprise, 9 4 -9 5
sweeping the corners, 1 3 7 K) sy nergism . 2 02 -3 , 2 05
team work, 4 8-4 9 . 6 5. 9 3 , 1 02 -4 .
1 4 7 -53 telephone tips. 2 2 8-2 9 thank-y ou notes, 2 3 5
third-party endorsem ents. 7 6 . 1 3 1 .
234
$3 5 m illion fixer-upper. 1 /J3 -3 4
tim e
m anagem ent, 2 2 2 , 2 2 6 traits for success, 2 2 0-2 1 . 2 2 5
trouble, discov ering, 1 04 -5 Trum p. Donald:
and com m ission doily , 1 86 -87 .
1 9 2 -9 7 and condo report, 1 08. 1 1 2 1 1 8 and Poly links, 1 84 -89 truth, 7 7 ./1 05, 1 3 6 , 1 4 5.
2 2 2 two places at once, 58-6 9
uncertainly . 2 3 9
v acation tim e. 86 -9 8, 2 4 2 Vanderbilt Mansion, New
York.
1 3 3 -3 4 v ideo idea. 1 6 9 -7 0, 1 7 2 -7 3
v irtual offices. 84
Wall Street Journal. IK). 1 1 < ). 1 %.
2 1 3 Ward. Grandpa, 1 59 -6 0 winging it. 1 1 8 winning
in court. 1 9 8 Wom en's Business, 2 1 5 wom en v s. m en as
leaders. 6 5 World Wide Web. 1 7 4 writing y our nam e on
the wall.
1 2 8-3 6 written contracts. 2 4 0 written offers. 2 3 8