In Johnnie Babcock’s colorful recollection: “If credit hours were logged for the time I sat across the desk from Roy H. Park in the manner logged as flying time for an airline pilot, I’d have a very full book. To match it, a pilot would have to be maybe 113 years old.
“I had observed Roy at his desk as a casual employee, but reporting to him personally changed things. My first summons in 1964 came on the interoffice phone. My private office was around the corner from his in a building that had been Duncan Hines foods headquarters before P&G took over. Roy was comfortably ensconced behind the big desk that had adorned his now-vacated Ag Research office. He was still on State Street in Ithaca, just a few steps up the hill.
“My private office fell a little short of privileged. It was the former test kitchen for Duncan Hines foods. My desk chair straddled a sunken drain in the tiled floor. My veneered desk looked like it came from a minimally furnished Cornell student rental room. When I moved my chair even an inch, it became as unbalanced as a milking stool, one or two legs grasping air instead of the floor. I was busy marking up a map showing home totals delivered by a TV station in each county of its coverage. I rattled my chair around to unseat myself and headed for Roy’s office. “As I rounded the bend to his office door, he came striding out to meet me face on. Apparently I had not been quick enough to answer his summons. I was taken aback but still mellow at being back in my hometown. I went in without comment and accepted the chair he pointed to across the polished surface of his desk. He handed me a yellow pad and suggested in the future that I bring one with me when we were to be together. There was no small talk about the long trip to Ithaca with my family from Indianapolis. His only personal inquiry was where my family was living and when I would be buying a house. I replied that I was comfortably installed in a rental unit in Lansing, and that I wanted to study the community before choosing a permanent home. I had to close first on sale of my home in Indiana. Roy offered help in locating a nice place and promised to get me hooked up with the right people at the bank.
“Then we talked about pricing broadcast stations either by multiples of sales or operating profit. I said both were important, but that sales growth and totals were the better indicator of potential. We could use our own devices to control expenses. Sales momentum was harder to build and maintain. I returned to my office feeling that we were off on the right foot.
“I was to learn and remember that he tried to get every key employee to commit to a home purchase, and the more expensive, the better. A man saddled with house payments was more likely to remain a loyal employee than someone who could relocate on short notice. If you had a big mortgage, you tended to stick. The inventory of big homes tallied by executives hired and moved to Ithaca indicated that Park’s advice was often followed, and that included the substantial house I eventually chose.
“Park had made detailed plans to install me in far better quarters, and soon the entire broadcast operation took up residency next door in what had been the Ithaca Post Office in the nineteenth century. I had a roomy ground-floor accommodation that had lots of windows, cheerful lighting, and a decent view. I was assigned space in the covered garage that served the building, right next to Park’s reserved slot. Again, Roy’s office was handy to mine, though I cannot recall that he ever entered it. We spent our days at his desk. He had windows that remained perpetually hidden behind Venetian blinds. It was as if he wanted to eliminate any distractions from the world outside.
“My most frequent engagement with Roy, usually bright and early, was to devise what he called “talk sheets” to guide him in his phone calls to prospective sellers. He never had to think of what he would say next. It was right there before him and thus gave him time to be an attentive listener. We would word-smith these scripts, right down to the introductory remarks asking of the health of the wife and family. Then it was down to business. Instead of bluntly asking how sales were going, he would slide into the topic by commenting on how business was faring, and the state of the economy. This usually produced an outpouring of the prospect’s sales problems, staffing decisions, and negative observations about the general business. Park carefully took notes and listened, making sympathetic and helpful responses.
“If serious negotiations were indicated, he would ask for operating reports and make a tentative date for a visit to the man’s station(s). If the conversation went as he had hoped, his final words on the phone were always: Thanks a million! “Observing Park in action over many years, the generous phrase “Thanks a million” often meant that the fish was hooked, and on Park’s terms. He’d hang up with a broad smile, intense eyes under his bushy eyebrows sparkling with anticipation. The call often culminated a period of intense digging and research by Park that gave him insight into the personality and vulnerabilities of his quarry. When he was on the cusp of a major acquisition, he knew his seller better than the seller knew himself.
“The homework he had done before approaching and selling Duncan Hines the idea of having Park license his name became the model for winning over other acquisition candidates. Park could be tough with his own staff, his lawyers or his accountants. With prospective sellers, his manner was shaggy dog softy—and deceptive. There was, I soon learned, nothing soft about Roy.”