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Surely the happiest instances of commercial eccentricity have been those in which an entrepreneur's quirks spur success. In fact, it could be argued that such people are capitalism's finest and most inspiring flowers: their greatest wealth literally is themselves. One such is Kathryn Falk, 58, whose boundless love for romance novels has led her to produce conventions, magazines, newsletters and tours. Falk also sells chocolates and other items to women who share her passion. Her annual Romantic Times Booklovers' Convention draws some 5,000 and features a male beauty pageant and a costume ball. During a 1997 Romantic Times Convention in Baton Rouge, La., as hundreds of lady authors, would-be authors and romance-novel lovers milled about, Lady Barrow (she bought herself an English title) regally strolled the floor, greeting fans eager not just to meet her but also to pat the pet chicken that often perched on her shoulder. Truly, she swoons all the way to the bank.
And finally, an entrepreneur unlike any other: Jim Moran, 89, who, until he retired in 1985, reigned as supreme master of that most singular marketing device--the stunt. Highlights: he sold an icebox to an Eskimo on behalf of the American Ice Manufacturers Association. He personally hatched an ostrich egg by sitting on it for 19 days, 4 hrs. and 32 min., on behalf of the 1947 movie The Egg and I. For producer David Merrick, whose Broadway show The Matchmaker needed a little extra coverage, he dressed an orangutan in a chauffeur's suit and set the creature at the wheel of a specially rigged taxi. With Moran steering from the back, the two set off down Broadway with the legend I'M ON MY WAY TO THE MATCHMAKER! blazoned on the car. There was a traffic accident--and incalculable publicity.
All this, however, was a mere preamble to what would be the zenith of Moran's career: his plan to fly midgets (his word) on kites over Central Park, bearing an advertisement for a Moran client. Moran managed to hire a crew and repaired to Central Park for lift-off, his kite handlers and the undersize pilots sporting snappy uniforms and caps saying MORAN AERIAL ADVERTISING SERVICE. The day was fine, the winds conducive. But as the crew was in the process of getting the first pilot airborne, the authorities intervened. A cop asked Moran if he had a permit. Moran did not. A dispute ensued, and the parties removed to a police station. Upon his release some hours later, Moran immediately called a press conference. "It's a sad day for American capitalism," he said, "when a man can't fly a midget on a kite over Central Park." This may not be quite so succinct an aphorism as "A penny saved is a penny earned," but it ought nonetheless to be incised in stone somewhere--a business school, perhaps.
Alan Farnham is a New York City-based financial journalist and author who has a few quirks of his own