Many people never fulfill their potential, but it's not because they lack intelligence or drive. They just never develop a master plan to enjoy and achieve success. Dr. John Louis Slack shares ten proven strategies to help you build a master plan in this inspirational autobiography. You'll learn how to identify prerequisite strategies to building a master plan; exhibit qualities that make others believe in your abilities; harness social and emotional intelligence; and respond to new situations and life transitions. By building a plan and always focusing on it, Slack overcame every obstacle and achieved true success. Join him as he looks back at growing up in rural Pennsylvania and learning the importance of family, appreciating what you have, and hard work. You can't achieve personal and professional success until you learn the strategies in this guidebook to living. No matter what you're trying to accomplish, your mission will be much easier with the tools and strategies you'll find in The Master Plan: Ten Secrets to Success.

"Master Plan" 10 Secrets to Success

SUCCESS - You Can't Get There – Until - You Have Been Here!By John Louis Slack

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Dr. John Louis Slack
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-4819-6

Contents

Acknowledgments.................................................................................................xiPreface.........................................................................................................xiiiChapter I. The Family...........................................................................................1Chapter II. Memories growing up in Pa...........................................................................7Chapter III. Early Education....................................................................................33Chapter IV. Placed into First Institution.......................................................................39Chapter V. Placed in Second Institution.........................................................................57Chapter VI. Placed into Third Institution.......................................................................61Chapter VII. Place into the Fourth Institution..................................................................73Chapter VIII. Personal Development Plan.........................................................................83Chapter IX. The "Master Plan"...................................................................................97Chapter X. Pre-Requisite Strategies.............................................................................115Chapter XI. Social and Emotional Intelligence...................................................................133Chapter XII. Specific Game Plan.................................................................................149Chapter XIII. Game Plan for High School.........................................................................157Chapter XIV. Memories in High School............................................................................177Chapter XV. Undergraduate.......................................................................................187Chapter XVI. Teaching Fellowship................................................................................221Chapter XVII. Teaching..........................................................................................227Chapter XVIII. Lost Grand Teton Mountain, Wyoming...............................................................237Chapter XIX. President Ronald Reagan's Money Clip...............................................................253Chapter XX. Real Estate Development.............................................................................257Chapter XXI. The Story of Princeton Place.......................................................................267Chapter XXII. Stabbed Seventeen Times...........................................................................291Chapter XXIII. Consolidated Properties Investments, Inc.........................................................299Chapter XXIV. The John Slack Companies, Inc.....................................................................309Chapter XXV. Hobbies............................................................................................313Chapter XXVI. Founding of the American Rare Breed Association (ARBA) International Company......................319Chapter XXVII. The Blood of Life – Golf...................................................................325Chapter XXVIII. Community Services..............................................................................341Closing Remarks.................................................................................................347

Chapter One

The Family

"Other things may change us, but we start and end with the family"

Anthony Brandt

Introduction

In the beginning chapters of this writing, I share with the reader my family, childhood, early education and struggle to survive. Hopefully, after reading these chapters you will have a better appreciation of the value of the Master Plan that I have developed to achieve success.

Growing up in Rural America.

Let us begin the exciting journey of personal and professional improvement by first recalling and sharing a few memories of how I grew up on the farm. The process of recalling the events brought back wonderful feelings of joy and pleasure that I experienced living with my family. Chapter one reveal a small portions of how I grew up on a farm which was a unique and special experience that few children in the future will ever have the opportunity to enjoy in the 21st Century. My mother and father were married long enough to bring into the world eight beautiful children. I had two sisters, Shirley and Barbara. I had five brothers, Rudy, Richard, Robert, Jimmy, and Kenny. I was the fourth child and the second son. My Father had two brothers and six sisters. My mother had three brothers and three sisters. It turns out that my last name was not Slack according to my family ancestry records in Austria but rather John L. Slak. You will notice that my middle initial is "L" named after my Grandfather Man (Louis). Grandfather Man was named Louis Frank Slak, who was born in Trebelno Parish in Bihovic Mokronog, Austria. He was the son of Mr. & Mrs. Anthony Slak. The American people mispronounced his named so often that my Grandfather grew tired of correcting everyone. He finally decided that life was difficult enough, rather than arguing continuously about the correct pronouncement of his name. He simple changed it to what everyone called him: Mr. Louis F. Slack.

My Father, better known to the family as the "Old Man," built a little wooden frame house in the upper corner of our Grandfather's farm land for the family to live in, which we all called our homestead located in Falls Creek, Pa. Unfortunately, after some sixty-five years or so the homestead had become so rotten that it had to be torn down. However, Mark Fordora, one of our cousins purchased the land that the house was built upon. Mark maintains the surrounding area of the foundation like a beautiful State Park. Mark even left the steel wire hanging on the old oak tree where my Father had tied a tire to it so the kids could use it to swing on. The way Mark keeps up the grounds and foundation really mean a lot to the Slack family. Whenever I go home to the country, I love to drive up that dusty dirt road to walk down in the field with my brothers to the homestead where we grew up as kids. The foundation is all that is left of our home. Thank you Mark, for it really means a lot to all us kids.

After our mother left our Father to move from the farm to Dubois, she had a difficult time feeding all the kids. My mother worked as a housekeeper for the Salvation Army in Dubois. I was told that Mr. and Mrs. Hines was a good friend of our mother. The Hines had no children. Our mother allowed my two youngest brothers, Jimmy and Kenny to go live with the Hines. The two little boys were packed up, and sent out the door to live with the Hines. We did not see the two kids for many, many years later. The Hines, in effect, adopted the two boys but my Father always maintained that he never signed any adoption paper. However, the two boys changed their names to Jimmy and Kenny Hines.

I married a wonderful Italian woman by the name of Margaret (Margie) Pannullo, who came from a truly old fashioned magnificent Italian family like you would see in the movies. I met Margaret at the Timon High School dances in my junior year in high school. Margaret attended Buffalo State College in Buffalo, New York. You may say that I married my high school sweet heart. Her Father worked at the Buffalo Bethlehem Steel Plant. I used to call him Pa. We used to go out almost every Friday to a little bar on the West side of Buffalo, which was the Italian section of Buffalo. We drank several draft beers, ate brown fava beans and clams. We had great times.

Margie and I had two beautiful daughters who continue to astonish us with their accomplishments in everything they do in life. We named the girls Kathie and Debbie. Each of our children went to private schools, got married and each of them had two bright healthy children. Today, we are the proud grandparents of four fantastic grandchildren who are the loves of our life. Kathie has two beautiful girls by the names of Sarah (Miss USA) and Sophia (Miss Universe). Debbie has a boy by the name of Logan, who talks and acts like a college graduate at four years old and believes that he is "Mr. Genius." Debbie's daughter Brooke is only one-year old but already has been named Miss Teenager 2020. Other things may change, but we will always end up with our same family. Love your family because they will be your only family.

Chapter Two

Memories growing up in Pa.

"Even though the good old days are gone, we still have our wonderful memories! Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose."

Appreciate Everything

This chapter reveal a few memories of my childhood growing up on the farm in the great state of Pennsylvania. According to Warren Buffett, the second richest man on the planet, "the happiest people do not necessarily have the best things. They simply appreciate the things they have." Although the Slack family was extremely poor, we most certainly appreciated everything we had in those days. My early childhood was unusual to say the least. It was filled with joy, happiness, mayhem, traumatic events, distress, painful trials and challenges. My parents lived together long enough to bring eight wonderful children (six boys and two girls) into the world. In spite of our poor beginnings, each child grew up to become very successful in his or her own right. Growing up in a large family means you are not at any time bored or run out of people to talk to. However, you don't get as much attention as you would grow up in a small family. I do not remember the exact cause of my parents' separation, but I know the house was full of love and anger all at the same time. I mostly remember the good times and somehow have forgotten the bad times. What stands out most in my childhood were the wonderful holidays. In spite of how poor we were in those days. I do remember that my parents always managed somehow to find a way to provide a wonderful Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter holiday for the family. I do not know of any family into the world that had such a tough time trying to survive in life as my entire family. In reading this journey you may believe that I had a difficult time growing up and that may be true. However, when you consider how my other brothers and sisters grew up, you will begin to see that I was very fortunate in life in comparison to the other members of my family. The truth regarding the matter is that my brothers and sisters had a much more difficult time than I ever did in growing up. You will learn that I did not grow up with my family. You will also learn that I had food, clothing and a place to sleep most of the time in contrast to other members of my family that endured all kinds of abuse and constantly struggled each day for food and shelter. As the story goes on we will share the details with the reader.

Good Old Days

Do you remember the good old days? It is amazing, how everyone seems to answer the question the same way. People say something like "Yes, the best time of my life was when I was growing up as a child." Someone once said: "Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory." There are lots of people who mistake their imagination for their memory. I am one of those people who may not remember the days, but I remember the moments. If you asked me the same question, I would answer in a similar fashion by saying, "When I was growing up on the farm." We did not think about how poor we lived because we never knew anything else but being very, very poor. We didn't know how other people lived in town. However, when the family was together, no family had more fun than we did. We made our fun. We did not have to buy fun like other children with fancy toys or go on vacations. We thought a holiday was the day you did not have to do chores. Life was an occasion that we celebrated every day.

Do you remember the first house you ever lived in? The earliest house I can remember living in as a child was a little wood-frame house across the railroad tracks. The house was on the out skirts of Dubois, Pa. where all the poor families lived. I use to think about the house as the "Railroad House." Why do all the poor families always live on the other side of the railroad tracks? It was once explained to me that the wrong side of the tracks was the side of the tracks where the smoke, dust and soot of the train would blow on the houses as the train went up the tracks. The houses on that side of the tracks were considerably cheaper because no one wanted to live where the sooth would blow on them from the trains constantly passing by the house. I thought about this as I grew older. I really never accepted this explanation because everyone knows that the wind is subject to blow in all directions.

My Father worked as the fireman on the train of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. Father would go to work and not come home for several weeks. The train that father worked on used to rumble right past the side of our house. Every two weeks or so, you could find father standing outside the big engine from the train. Could you image how excited the children would get when our mother would announce that our Father would soon be coming along in the train? Mother knew the exact the time Father's train would pass by the house. We would all stand on the front porch, impatiently waiting for our Father who would always be dressed in the same dirty railroad uniform with his railroad hat, coveralls and gloves. We would wait and wait, but the train would seem to never appear. The children would repeatedly ask our mother: "Where is the train, is it going to come?"

Suddenly, from around the corner out of nowhere a huge train would appear to make all kinds of loud noises. Black smoke would be rising up in the sky from the big engine like it was on fire. Father would sound the deafening trains whistle over, and over again. All the kids would run to the porch towards the train holding their ears in an attempt to protect their ears from the piercing noise from the train whistle. Father would always throw out two brown bags from the train. He would shout and ferociously wave at everybody as the train raced by the house out of sight as fast as it came. All the kids would chase alongside the train. We would become exhausted from shouting at Father as we raced down along side of the tracks trying to keep up with the train. After the train disappeared, mother would focus on the two brown bags. Standing on the porch, she would scream at the top of her lungs, "Get the bags, and get the bags." All the kids would scramble to chase down the bags. Mother would carefully open one at a time until she found the bag with the candy. She would gingerly pass out the candy usually giving us only one piece of candy, saving the rest for another day.

We attended a Catholic school by the name of St Catherine, which was just up to the hill about a mile from the railroad house. We would walk up the hill through a long scary graveyard that never seemed to end to get to school. My oldest brother Red, would often run ahead, hide behind a tombstone, and jump out screaming to scare the living Jesse out of us. For lunch, we used to walk just about another mile to our Grandmother's house, (our mother's mother) which was just down the hill from school. We could always depend on the same-old lunch to be served all five days during the school week that consisted of boiled wieners, baked beans, and some kind of homemade cake. I can remember a bowl of candy that could be found on a little table that stood at the front door of the house. Grandmother would give us one piece of candy as we would pass by her to go back to school out of the front door. However, before you could get a piece of candy, you had to give her a big hug and kiss saying thank you for lunch. Once we got home, we had to change from our school clothes into our play clothes. We would carefully place our school clothes on a hanger and put them into the closet to be ready to wear the next day for school. Of course, we would wear the same clothes all week long.

Farm House

My Father moved from Dubois, Pennsylvania to a little town by the name of Falls Creek, Pennsylvania. There were about a hundred families who lived in the small town. The tiny town was charming, rich with mostly robust people that were first-generation folks from all over Europe. They were respectful, kind, and filled with good old-fashioned qualities. The people were all more than willing to help each other to survive. The community would offer a hand to each other to do whatever task that had to be done. In those days, people all worked together, men, women and children to do whatever it took. When a family purchased some land, the people would come from miles to help. The people would clear the land to make fields for crops to be planted by removing trees, and stumps. The neighbors would help raise barns, butcher the hogs, plow the fields, and make hay.

The farm children use to run around half dressed with no shoes working alongside the adults. It was uncommon for us to wear shoes. Rarely did the children even wear shirts in the heat of the summers. Though Father was not a carpenter, he and the neighbors managed to build a little one story three-bedroom house. The house was about three miles from the town up off a winding dirt road back in the mountains. We moved to the house. The house was absolutely beautiful to us even though it had no plumbing, electricity, air-conditioning or heating system but rather an outhouse that had a half moon cut out in the top of the wooden door to let the stink out. The Sears catalog was used for our toilet paper.

Carry Water: Snakes or Snow

The older boys were responsible for keeping two buckets of water in the kitchen at all times. Water was drawn and carried from the spring in galvanized buckets. The spring was about seventy five yards down the hill from the house between two apple trees. One would think carrying the water from the spring would be a simple chore. Regularly, in the summer when you went to dip the bucket into the well, you would find a big old black snake or two swimming around in the water. If the black snakes were not in the water, you could find them sunny their selves on the rocks around the well. Usually, black snakes are more afraid of you than you are of them. However, if you surprised the snake, he would certainly bite you. On the other hand, in the winter, there was another problem that the children were confronted with when carrying water to the house. There was an argument in the winter time as to who was supposed to go down the hill to get the water. Of course, it was always freezing cold with ice and snow on the pathway. The truth of the matter is that one could not find the path most of the time because it was covered up with snow. Beneath the snow was ice. The winter on the mountains was unbearably cold in those days with tons of snow and howling winds almost every day. If you think, the trip down to the well was tough, just think about how hard it was to climb back up the hill given the slippery ice upon the ground, deep snow and strong blowing winds. The wind would blow the snow everywhere. The snow would come down the size of half dollars creating zero visibility. More often than not, you would slip and fall spilling the water. Invariably, some freezing water would get on you, and you would not only be covered up with snow but soaking wet with the bitter cold water. You had to fight to get up and return to the well to get another bucket of water. All the kids up at the house would be standing in the door laughing their heads off. The good news is that when you finally made it back to the house someone would meet you to take the bucket of water. I would climb up the stairs as fast as I could to run through the house to take my pants off to get warm by the potbelly stove. All the other children would continue to laugh at me as they made little comments. However, I would come back by saying: "Don't worry; tomorrow, it will be your turn."

Bathing the Children

One of the most challenging dilemmas that our mother had to face was to bathe eight dirty little children. Mother only gave the children a bath once a week. My brothers and sisters by no means were ever given bubble baths. The process required the older boys to go to the well and carry as many buckets of water as required to fill the big galvanized wash tub twice. The water was poured into a large kettle, which was placed on the cooking stove to be heated. Mother would pour the water into a big galvanized wash tub. Mother then would wash four of the children before changing the water with fresh water to bathe the remaining four children. The challenge was to be first to get a bath after the water was changed. (Continues...)

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