What Lee Byung-chull Lacked

On the way from Yeongdeungpo to the Bando Hotel, Kijo turned Lee Byung-chull over in his mind. The man undeniably held formidable power. Kijo might have beaten him in the seasoning business, but that victory had nothing to do with the larger tide. A loss on points would have left Lee Byung-chull himself scarcely shaken, in spirit or in purse. Seasoning was only a small piece among the many enterprises he owned.

Kijo thought he had fought well against a man who even owned a bank. To take seventy percent of the market from someone with capital that overwhelming was little short of a miracle. At the height of the promotional war he had truly envied that inexhaustible war chest. Even so, he was confident of the fights still ahead. He simply did not own a bank. In every other respect he was running a fleet of companies hardly inferior to Samsung's—brick, cement, construction, coal, freight, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠transport, machinery, defense, electronics, broadcasting, telecommunications, and distribution. Some of the firms were still small and frail, but a kind of vertical integration was already in place. They were saplings that, tended steadily, would grow into a great forest. All he had to do was nurture those trees with care.

He arrived at the Bando Hotel with that thought and went up to Park Hee-jun's office. He knocked and stepped inside, and Hee-jun welcomed him with a grin that showed every tooth. The sight of the man filled Kijo with a quiet satisfaction. Hee-jun embodied a strength Lee Byung-chull did not possess: a partner he could trust, solid at his side. Lee Byung-chull was strong in a venture he ran alone and weak in one he had to share. He had always crushed his rivals, and even men who had joined hands with him were cast off without mercy the moment he judged them ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of no further use. That, too, was a kind of ability. Kijo placed his hope instead in people combining their strength and moving forward together. The two of them shook hands and smiled.

"You're leaving for America tomorrow?"

"Yes. My brother-in-law asked me to come over for a while."

"Is something wrong?"

"No. I've been in Korea a long time, so he wants me back to look over the tungsten sales. That's all it is, I imagine."

Kijo suspected Roberts had another reason for summoning him. The American economy was sinking deeper into stagnation. After the Second World War it had seemed the United States would prosper forever, yet once the golden age of the fifties had passed, problem after problem had begun to break the surface. Wages were high and productivity was slipping; a dollar grown too strong was worsening the trade balance, and the country had slid into recession. Roberts's bank would be watching its delinquency rate climb, and tungsten sales inside America would have fallen as well. He meant to call in Hee-jun, his elder brother-in-law, and lay the true state of things before him.

"Let's sit and talk."

Hee-jun gestured toward the sofa. His office at the Bando Hotel was large and immaculate. A ceiling fan turned overhead, and every piece of furniture was of the finest quality. For as long as he had been in Korea he had kept his base at the Bando, where the Republic's most successful politicians and businessmen took rooms. Kijo reckoned that a man earning several million dollars a year from the tungsten trade was more than entitled to such comfort.

Once Kijo was seated, Hee-jun asked, "Is there anything you'd like me to see to while I'm in America? If you need something, just say the word. I'll bring it back."

"Nothing. Just go, and come back safely."

Hee-jun looked at the man who asked nothing of him. Everything he had achieved was, in truth, as good as something Kijo had made. Saving the lives of his younger sister Hee-ja and of Roberts was one such thing, and because of it the two had married and the family had been able to settle in America. When he came to Korea hungry for a great enterprise, Kijo had pointed him toward tungsten and dealt with the Korean officials until the rights were theirs. Through all of it he had neither schemed nor demanded a success fee.

Hee-jun looked once more around the office where he stayed. Even this luxury at the Bando Hotel was entirely Kijo's doing. The man had let him earn, in only a few years, enough to live on for the rest of his life, and not once had he so much as hinted, Isn't it nice that the business is going well ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠because of me?

Would there ever be another man like this?

Every time Hee-jun looked at him, he was struck with admiration. This time, when he went to America, he meant to buy a Cadillac and bring it back to Korea as a gift. He asked again whether Kijo truly needed nothing, and Kijo spoke.

"Give my regards to your father. And to Miss Hee-ja and Roberts as well."

He said only what looked after Hee-jun's family. Hee-jun answered with news of how they had been faring of late.

"Just as you advised, President Lee, my father has opened several McDonald's hamburger shops. He said he would open ten franchises, and the president of McDonald's came in person to pay his respects."

Kijo laughed aloud. Ray Kroc, who would one day be emperor of a hamburger empire, was still a green franchise man. McDonald's had not yet gone national. It would be adding stores one by one, stumbling through every kind of trial and error. He could well imagine the delight when an Asian immigrant, newly arrived in America, announced he would open ten franchises at a stroke. He hoped Hee-jun would meet Ray Kroc before the man became a giant, and form a bond with him.

"President Park, you ought to meet the president of McDonald's yourself."

"I was planning to. Father must have been that pleased with the restaurants, to open ten of them. I'm curious what sort of man built a place like that."

Kijo had a feeling the meeting would be a historic one. In 1959, McDonald's would fall into a severe financial crisis. If they took note of it now and put money in then, there would be a chance to become a major shareholder. At present Ray Kroc was handing out McDonald's stock—worth less than a bus ticket—to the men who had helped him found the company, with no sense of how large it would grow. Next year, when a vicious swindler named Clem Bohr brought him to the brink, they might, if they played it right, acquire close to fifty percent of the company.

Even knowing which American firm would grow, securing a stake was no easy thing. No American readily handed equity to a Korean. A restaurant business like McDonald's was at least a counterpart an Asian could more readily join.

"President Park, if you happen to meet him, would you pass along a letter from me?"

"Of course."

Kijo drew the pen and paper on the table toward himself and began to write. The heart of the letter came down to two points.

Hee-jun read what Kijo had written and started in surprise.

"You want to sell McDonald's in Korea, China, and Japan? Isn't China a communist country?"

He looked as if he could make no sense of it at all. Kijo expected Ray Kroc, reading the same letter, would be just as startled. McDonald's would not enter Japan until 1971, Korea until 1986, and China until 1990. For the moment even Kroc would dismiss the proposal. But Kijo believed he would remember it next year.

"Ah. I forgot to add one thing."

Beneath the first clause of the memorandum he added another line.

Hee-jun looked at the added sentence and this time only laughed.

"You want a hundred-year concession?"

"Yes. The way Britain leased Hong ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Kong, I want the rights for Korea, China, and Japan guaranteed for a hundred years."

Hee-jun seemed to think it an amusing joke, and he could not hold the laughter in.

"President Lee, I really am going to deliver this letter. You truly want me to hand this to the president of McDonald's?"

"I'm entirely serious."

At that, Hee-jun set his laughter aside and nodded. He did not really understand, but he decided to grant the request. Everything Kijo had set out to do had succeeded. If a genius of business was acting this way, there might be something to it after all.

Hee-jun went on to tell him what the family thought of the food McDonald's sold.

"The hamburgers are good, but they say the french fries are truly delicious. Some customers come just for the fries and leave."

Kijo nodded.

"There's something called a milkshake that's wonderfully cold and sweet. And above all, the hamburgers are cheap and come out fast, so the turnover is enormous. People don't eat inside the shop. They take them wrapped and eat in the car, or outdoors."

Unused to a culture of takeout, Hee-jun spoke as if it were a marvel.

"Americans each have a car, so I suppose eating in the car just feels easier."

Hee-jun agreed.

"That's true. In America there's even something called a drive-in theater. You park in the lot and watch a movie at night from inside the car, eating popcorn and cola as you go."

Hee-jun still called popcorn by its old name, gangnaengi. Kijo asked only that he deliver the letter to the president of McDonald's. No persuasion was needed, he said, and no introduction either. The proposal would not bear fruit until next year in any case.

With the talk of McDonald's finished, he offered Hee-jun a new business.

"President Park, do you know plywood?"

"Plywood? You mean those thin, wide sheets they slice from wood and use to finish the inside of a ceiling?"

"Yes. Exactly that."

This time Hee-jun wiped the smile from his face and looked at Kijo with a serious eye. Unlike the McDonald's investment, the matter of plywood did not look like a joke at all.

"Korea doesn't have the trees, does it? The mountains are all bare, and what trees there are tend to have thin, crooked trunks. Plywood would be difficult."

"The wood we can buy in Southeast Asia. There's a great broadleaf of the tropics called lauan. When it grows, they say it reaches forty or fifty meters."

"A very large tree. It ought to yield a great deal of plywood."

"It does. It isn't too hard or too soft, so it's easy to work, and it bonds well. Perfect stock for plywood."

Listening, Hee-jun felt his instinct catch. His heart pounded the way it had when Kijo first proposed tungsten. Excitement of this kind was the feeling that came just before money was made.

"What do you need me to do?"

He asked it already certain, once again, that a great sum was waiting.

Kijo laid the work out calmly. "When you get to America, establish a lumber company. Then set up a corporation in Hong Kong. After that, prepare to bring timber out of Southeast Asia and send it on to Korea."

"Understood. Won't we need more ships?"

"Of course. They'll be for Southeast Asian routes, so they can be smaller than the ships that carry the tungsten."

Once again he chose to partner with Park Hee-jun. Buying timber overseas with dollars meant watching the government's mood, so it was better that Hee-jun, an American, purchase the wood with his own money and bring it into Korea. Kijo could mill what Hee-jun brought into plywood and sell it at home and in the American market. A share of the American proceeds would go to Hee-jun, and the profit would be divided that way.

This was precisely the power of partnership he wanted. If two men trusted each other and shared the gains, they could exert a greater force than any business run alone. What Lee Byung-chull, by temperament, would have found hard even to imitate, Kijo was confident he could do well. He smiled at Hee-jun, already eager to reach America and found the lumber company.

The plywood business was aimed at the sixties. For four years running—1968, 1969, 1970, and 1971—plywood had been the Republic of Korea's leading export. The world's largest plywood plants had stood in Korea, and for a time the industry had played the part semiconductors would later play. Kijo wanted to bring that era forward. In the original history the plywood trade had enjoyed only a brief golden age. He meant to begin it early and enjoy it long.

Seeing that Hee-jun shared his sense of the business's promise, he prepared to propose yet another venture in resources. Hee-jun was his treasure. American and Korean both, he was an excellent partner who accomplished what Kijo could not do alone. Kijo opened his mouth to lay before him a second fortune in the making.