
It was the early 1980s, and we were renovating the restaurant in our Fullerton hotel. Looking back, I had no idea how much my perspective was about to change. Our brilliant designer, who had created Bobby McGees and other great restaurants, was trying to push me out of my comfort zone. He insisted we attend something called the "Golden Movement Emporium" architectural antiques auction held each year by Kennedy Wilson.
I remember being shocked by the $250 entry fee, but it came with a catch that taught me my first lesson about thinking differently: the fee included three days of food, drinks, and entertainment, and it counted toward any purchases. They weren't just selling antiques – they were creating an experience.
Walking into that auction was like stepping into another world. This wasn't the quiet, stuffy affair I'd expected. Don Kennedy and John P. Wilson had transformed a massive space into something that felt more like a theatrical production than a business event. The energy was electric, with thousands of people bidding on everything from antique stained glass to entire European pubs. Entire rooms of paneling were on skate wheels being pushed onto the stage by the USC football team members. Overhead there were stained glasss panels and domes up to 40 feet across. Around the perimeter were six authentic bars scoured from England and Ireland, all serving free drinks non-stop.
What really opened my eyes was watching how they'd completely reimagined what an auction could be. While other firms were selling architectural pieces one at a time to specialized collectors, Kennedy Wilson was thinking at a completely different scale. They were traveling across continents, salvaging entire interiors, and turning each sale into an event that people couldn't wait to attend.
The most profound lesson for me came from realizing how limited my own thinking had been. Here I was, initially proud of our modest renovation plans, while Kennedy Wilson was executing multi-million dollar deals and transforming entire market categories. They showed me that thinking bigger isn't just about scale – it's about questioning every assumption about how things "should" be done.
I left that auction with more than just architectural pieces for our restaurant. I gained a new perspective that would influence my thinking for years to come. Every time I find myself settling for the conventional approach, I remember that auction and ask myself, "What would happen if we thought bigger? What assumptions are we making that I could challenge?"
I even apply the same thinking to Rotary projects; I much prefer large-scale projects to the Saturday morning type efforts. My thinking is more "How could we grow this?" or "Could this be scaled to include our entire District or even all of Rotary?" Snowball Express was like that and so is Rotary's Polio initiative. Thinking big is inspiring and motivating.
In business, and in life, we often set our own limitations. The real challenge isn't just thinking bigger – it's giving ourselves permission to imagine beyond what we think is possible.
So true. Thanks for the motivation.