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Growing up: From Bultfontein

to Business

“There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens

and lets the future in.”

Graham Greene, Author of The Power and the Glory

One of my mother’s hens stopped laying eggs – inexplicably. She became fatter and heavier every day. People said there was a blockage. Great was our excitement when my mother reluctantly gave the hen to us three young Pretorius brothers to sell for pocket money. But the excitement was short-lived – my two brothers, Hennie and Koos aged eleven and nine, were too shy to sell the abnormally heavy hen. Being the little one in the family at that stage and only five years old, I was probably too young to be embarrassed. Without any hesitation I put the hen in a basket and walked the two blocks to the butchery. Undaunted, I convinced the butcher to buy the hen for two shillings. Extremely pleased with my deal I returned home with the coins tinkling in my pocket.

The feeling of satisfaction that I experienced that day may have planted the seed for my future interest in doing business. Perhaps it was there in the dusty streets of Bultfontein that the marketing bug first bit me – but I would only realise it much later in life.

1953

Bultfontein, Free State

Although I was born in the eastern Free State village of Steynsrus, my first childhood memory is a clear picture of our stone house next to the Bultfontein High School. My father, after whom I am named, was appointed there as headmaster in 1952. At the time, Bultfontein was a typical rural Free State town, about 100 km north-west of Bloemfontein, and surrounded by similar towns such as Hoopstad, Hertzogville, Dealesville and Brandfort. The local community was only a few hundred strong and the maize farmers in the surrounding areas played a prominent role. The few businesses in town were largely owned by “Afrikaner Jews” like the Gritzman and Berolowitz families. If memory does not fail me, we only had one tarred road, which was the main street. That was where Central Garage, the General Motors dealership, was located. I often peered through the showroom window, admiring the shining new Chevrolets and dreaming about owning one someday.

Cars were my childhood passion. I was greatly influenced by my eldest brother Hennie. From a young age, he was the enthusiastic (and unauthorised) driver of my father’s De Soto and later, our two-tone, grey-and-blue 1956 Chevrolet. I can recall the exhilaration when, after waiting anxiously for months, we took delivery of the new car. With bated breath I sat on the front steps, never taking my eyes off the road. Slowly, after what felt like hours, a car emerged in the distance. I ran to the gate. At last, the car I had been dreaming of had arrived! I was eight years old.

My plans for the future were already clear at that age – I wanted to become a car designer one day. Despite lacking any artistic talent, I spent hours designing my dream cars. By the time I was 11 I had compiled a scrapbook of my favourite cars. I could not wait for Saturday afternoons to help Hennie wash my dad’s Chev, and it was pure bliss the day we painted all the engine components in different colours! Considering how strict my father was, it is a miracle that he did not interfere and allowed us to continue.

Around this time we left Bultfontein’s dusty roads behind and relocated to Bloemfontein where my father was appointed headmaster of Wilgehof Primary School. Enormous excitement prevailed when my mother got her first car, a 1959 Renault Dauphine. For me it was the beginning of a new phase in my life as a fanatical Renault enthusiast. These distinctive French cars fascinated me from day one with their unique styling and gutsy performance. Many afternoons after school I would pedal all the way to the Renault dealer, Drakenstein Motors. Oom Jan van Niekerk understood my passion and allowed me to sit in the latest models, fantasising. For me there was nothing more alluring than the distinctive smell of new leather. Unbeknown to me then, my enthusiasm for Renault would eventually open the door to my career in the motor industry.

Around the same time that my love affair with Renault began, my interest in motor sport also started to develop. My friend Albert Weideman and I built race tracks in our backyard and raced our Dinky Toy cars in a great spirit of competition. At night I dreamed of the great racing drivers of that time – of Juan Manuel Fangio, Stirling Moss and Graham Hill.

When I was 15 my father was promoted to inspector of schools and we moved to Bethlehem. Two exciting things happened. My new friends Theo Harris and James Keulder shared my passion for cars. We spent many hours dreaming about how we would one day become famous racing drivers. Then it dawned on us that a go-kart would be the ideal way to start our racing careers. We painstakingly designed our own dream go-kart, spent all our pocket money on a second-hand lawnmower engine and started to weld the frame together in Theo’s dad’s garage. We spent many weeks trying to work out the gearbox and drive train configuration, but in the end our engineering skills were found wanting. Ultimately a lack of funds prevented us completing this ambitious project.

The second exciting event was inheriting my brother Koos’s old grey Ovilam 50 cc motorcycle. Although it was not by any stretch of the imagination a state-of-the-art machine, it heralded the start of my life-long love for motorcycles. At that stage the gearbox only had one gear that worked – third gear. I could only push-start it on steep descents – but that produced enough adrenalin to hook me for life. Racing down Eureka Street with the wind in my hair produced a tremendous thrill. For his 16th birthday, Theo received a brand-new dark-blue Honda 50 Sport, with its exhaust at an angle. It had a 4-stroke engine that revved freely to 8 000 rpm – the ultimate! The moment I laid eyes on it, I visualised myself on a red one.

I spent my last two years of school in Kroonstad when my father was transferred there. It was two wonderful years at Kroonstad High, or the Blue School, as it was commonly known at that time. Hennie was now a teacher in Welkom, and thanks to his generosity, I was the owner of a second-hand 50 cc Kreidler Florette, with all three gears in working order! Trips to school became very competitive events and usually resulted in races between me and my friends Pierre Joubert, on his Garelli, and Johannes Pretorius, on his Puch. I can still recall every kink in the road lined with massive willow trees next to the False River, with a few hazardous traffic circles. Of course we came off occasionally, but thankfully the damage was mostly limited to bruised egos. Despite my best efforts, Pierre usually got the better of us.

Hennie also introduced me to the Kyalami race track. How can I ever forget the exhilaration of attending my first nine-hour endurance race – the deafening sound of high revving engines, the overpowering smell of racing fuel, the cheering crowd, the entire adventure. The fearless racing drivers thrusting their cars around the bends instantly became my heroes. The intense rivalry between the Renaults, Alfa Romeos and Fords was all-absorbing. My adrenaline was pumping. I will also never forget that afterwards, on the Sunday morning, we had to pick up dozens of soft-drink bottles to trade for petrol money at cafes on our way back to Kroonstad. Hennie’s white 1961 Renault Dauphine, which he inherited from my mother, looked stunning with its wide wheels and sports exhaust. We felt like kings of the road. The fact that it only had a tiny 850 cc engine never bothered us.

During my matric year in 1965 I seriously started contemplating my future career. Because of my passion for cars, I was determined to join the motor industry. My teachers’, parents’ and my own frame of reference were all equally limited. The only direction we could identify was for me to study mechanical engineering. As the tuition was unaffordable, I applied for a bursary at Iscor. Due to my good academic record it was awarded and because I was not conscripted for military service, I could start my studies at the University of Pretoria in 1966. A condition to the bursary was that I had to study there and that I would have to work for Iscor for at least three years, a small sacrifice to achieve my ultimate goal.

It is with gratitude in my heart that I think back on my childhood years. I grew up in a home where my father had all the authority and the principles were strictly Calvinist. Christian norms and values were imprinted on us. There was no confusion between right and wrong. My father applied discipline consistently and as children we always knew where we stood with him. He was a well-read, intelligent man, who reached great heights in his field because of his integrity, competence and dedication. His passion was education. He was serious about his vocation and his sense of duty was an inspiration. He also had a softer side to him. Occasionally, especially during our numerous caravan holidays, he had us in stitches with his subtle sense of humour. In these unguarded moments we could sense and appreciate the quality of his humanity.

The principles taught to me by my dad had an undisputed and significant impact on me, such as the acceptance of responsibility and that you follow through on this responsibility to the very end. He ensured that we had designated responsibilities like watering the garden or cleaning the chicken pen.

When we still lived in Bultfontein we had a cow that grazed in the municipal camp just outside town during the day. In the late afternoon we had to fetch the cow so that it could spend the night in the cowshed and also so that it could be milked. And so, one wintry afternoon when I was about 10, it was my responsibility to go and fetch the cow. Unfortunately, on that day, all the cows grazing in the camp looked identical to me. To my dismay I had to return home empty-handed, without Blommetjie in tow. Despite the fact that it was cold and windy and already starting to get dark, my father sent me back – responsibility had to be taken seriously and completed successfully. Perseverance walks hand in hand with responsibility. This lesson became part of my being and served me well in later life.

The second lesson that my father taught me was the reality of cause and effect. Everything you do has consequences. Good behaviour was rewarded and bad behaviour punished. With regard to the last, my father did not believe in compromise or exceptions. If we acted outside the framework of our family’s principles and values, inevitable consequences followed – we were punished. Once we were caught red-handed while we were picking peaches from the head of the hostel’s garden. Pleas for extenuating circumstances were unsuccessful and my father’s cane imprinted the consequences on our backsides. I learned that I had to think before I acted, that taking chances never paid off as the truth would always come out in the end.

My father was an Afrikaner nationalist to his very core and, or so I suspect, also a member of the Broederbond. Being an Afrikaner was a very serious matter and he conducted himself with pride in this regard. His father fought in the Anglo-Boer War and later served a sentence in Ceylon. His mother, Ouma Nellie, along with her 12 brothers and sisters, were held captive in a British concentration camp – she was the only one who survived. I can still remember the heartache and pain in her eyes when these memories haunted her.

A question that I sometimes ask myself is whether my Afrikaner heritage, honed by my father’s lessons and example, played an important role in my career. In my opinion it did, and in a positive way. During the first couple of years of my involvement in the motor industry and marketing world I wanted to show that an Afrikaner could also achieve success in an environment which was mostly dominated by English speakers. Later on in life I wanted to show through my example that I could make a positive difference in the lives of all South Africans – and that I was co-responsible for the mistakes of the past. But more importantly, that I also accept responsibility for creating a better future.

Like my father I will always honour my Afrikaner heritage, but in my case it is secondary to being a proud South African.

My mother, however, was the biggest influence in my life. She applied her Christian values every day with conviction through charity work and her compassion towards all people. She was willing to sacrifice everything for her family and community. The memory of her joy and gratitude towards her Creator and fellow man will stay with me forever. Most of all I will cherish her unconditional love. The inspiration of her example will remain the richest blessing in my life.

Although I did not realise it at the time, my mother was the first real example I had of servant leadership, the philosophy that I would later come to embrace. She was an exceptional example of a servant leader in her community and family. My father was 10 years her senior – in fact, he was her teacher at one stage. At the end of her matric year they got married and a year later my brother Hennie was born. Thus she never had a career, but dedicated her life to serving others. I never once saw her display any positional power, not even in the upbringing of her four sons. Even though my father had the undisputed position of authority in our house, my mother had more influence – he was the head but she was the heart. Without a doubt she deserved our respect, trust, love and admiration. My utter determination to deserve her love, and to live in a way that would make her proud of me, was the driving force in my life. She called me her “sonskynkind” (sunshine child) and I wanted to stay that for her, no matter what.

Finally my upbringing was also influenced and enriched by my three brothers Hennie, Koos and Attie. In between the normal fighting from time to time, we were great friends who were forever busy doing one thing or another. My father believed being idle was unacceptable and kept us occupied, and as the headmaster’s children we felt the pressure to set the best example at all times. We also had to participate in everything possible – even piano lessons were mandatory. Doing our best in order to realise our God-given potential was the mantra our parents encouraged us to live by. All three of my brothers excelled in their own right and have always been a source of great encouragement to me. Apart from everything I learned from them, my brothers’ love and support remains incredibly precious to this day. They are my best friends.

January 1966

University

It was with a huge lump in my throat that I said goodbye to my family at Kroonstad station. The train journey to Pretoria was a mixture of sadness and excitement – excitement because a new chapter awaited me in Pretoria, sadness because I suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable. It was the first time that I would be living away from my family and friends. I was not aware of anybody I knew who would also be studying at Tuks.

My first year of studying Mechanical Engineering was not a pleasant experience. I had hopelessly underestimated the adjustment it would take. Residence life was not quite what I envisaged – for the first time in my life I had no privacy and had to adjust to an environment where late nights and constant noise was the norm. To make matters worse, I enjoyed my studies even less. Applied Mathematics and Physics was simply not my cup of tea. I struggled to cope and after two re-examinations, finally passed my first year. But in my heart of hearts I knew that my dream to enter the motor industry would not be attained through a degree in Mechanical Engineering. A few weeks before I had to return to Pretoria for my second year I confided in my mother. In her normal diplomatic way she prepared my father for the bad news. Notwithstanding the serious financial implications of the repayment of my Iscor bursary, he agreed that I could change courses. For that I will forever remain grateful.

What alternatives for studying did I have? I literally paged through the University of the Orange Free State’s Yearbook and decided on a B.Com degree on the spur of the moment, majoring in Transport Economics. Since my parents had moved to Bloemfontein in the meantime, I could now study from home.

I enjoyed my studies at the University in Bloemfontein right from the word go. Most of my subjects interested me greatly and I found comfort in being back home again. Since I felt very guilty about my dad having to repay my engineering bursary, I did not want to ask him for spending money and started to look for part-time work. One of my less successful attempts was selling Simba chips at the local stock car races. My meagre profit of less than R1 for a whole night’s hard work among the spectators saved me from that basket-around-the-neck job.

Shortly thereafter I was very fortunate to be appointed as a sales assistant at Stellenvale, a liquor store in Bloemfontein. The lessons that I learnt from Tannie Hester Pretorius, the manager, were many and very valuable. She was an outstanding businesswoman, fussy and strict. In the till all the banknotes had to be sorted in neat piles with Jan van Riebeeck’s head facing upwards. Every Saturday afternoon we had to take stock, and if the records did not reconcile to the last bottle, we had to start all over again. Her commitment to business ethics and good governance represented an outstanding example long before anybody had ever heard of the King Code of Good Practice.

I had the privilege of working there for three years during weekends and university holidays. On top of her flair for management, she also possessed a wonderful sense of humour. Although some of our heavily intoxicated customers sometimes caused lots of laughter, valuable learning also took place – she insisted that they always had to be treated with respect. It was my first exposure to the practical realities of business, which turned out to be of great value to my studies and my future career.

My second year as a B.Com student stands out in my memory for two reasons. Early in February that year, 1968, I met Tillie, my future wife. It occurred during the usual welcoming function for first-year students in the H.F. van der Merwe Scholtz hall. All the new students had to stand against the wall with their heads facing down, ready for “inspection” and questioning by the senior students. One person in particular immediately caught my attention. When I reached her, I lifted her head, looked her in the eyes, and knew. She was beautiful and I sensed her character and intelligence. That evening when I arrived home, I excitedly told my mother that I had just met my future wife. I did not know, however, that it would require blood, sweat and tears to eventually convince her to agree.

The second significant memory of my second year of studying as a B.Com student relates to my exposure to an outstanding lecturer, Prof. Johann Nortje. He helped awaken the passion for marketing in me. His lectures were interesting, enthusiastically presented and his case studies captured my imagination. My handbook, The Fundamentals of Marketing (1964) by Prof. William J. Stanton from the University of Colorado, became my favourite bedtime reading. Another book, The Principles of Marketing by Tousley, Clark and Clark, soon joined my preferred reading list. Every day in Prof. Nortje’s class I became more determined to pursue a career in the exciting world of business and marketing.

It was at this time that I got my first car – the legendary 1961 Renault Dauphine, originally belonging to my mother. After my mother, my two older brothers used it when they were students. My enthusiasm for the little 850 cc white car knew no bounds. This event had a number of consequences. It strengthened my interest in and knowledge of cars further. It also made me a fanatical Renault supporter – which would eventually result in me being employed by Toyota in 1973.

Things were very different in those days. Despite the fact that my fuel bill was, amazingly, less than R1 per week, the Dauphine still absorbed a huge part of my disposable income. I was forever busy modifying the engine for better performance and adding accessories for better looks. This continuous drain on my solvency encouraged me to study harder and do my part-time job at Stellenvale to the best of my ability. Finally, it also played an important role in my courtship of Tillie. From my perspective, it transported us in style everywhere we went – Sunday evenings to church and to the drive-in movies whenever we could afford it. Unfortunately, because of its age and my never-ending tampering with the engine, my little white car became very temperamental – it sometimes, especially on cold winter evenings, refused to start. Tillie did not yet have a drivers licence and therefore, albeit very indignantly, she became the designated one to push-start the car. This obviously ruined many a romantic evening . . .

After obtaining my B.Com degree majoring in Business Economics and Transport Economics, I continued with my honours on a part-time basis. To finance this I started working at Kloppers as a trainee manager in December 1969. Kloppers was the leading discount retail outlet in Bloemfontein, similar to Game and Dion in terms of product range and marketing strategy. Willem Klopper was the owner and Richard Fouché the manager, both competent and aggressive retailers. This family business remains one of the most prominent retailers in the Free State to this day.

That December at Kloppers was a crucial test for me. It was their busiest time of the year and I had to alternate roles between salesman, cashier and even switchboard operator. Every morning at half past six we started unpacking stock and most evenings after seven we were still busy with deliveries. Notwithstanding hard work, I really enjoyed the different tasks, especially the sales function. “Oom Willem” and Richard were difficult to work for, but always fair. I soon realised that the world of business is all about delivering results. Sales targets had to be met, come what may, and the books had to balance every day. To stand behind a counter as an anonymous person with little perceived status, serving the public, offered valuable experience. Their behaviour, good or bad, was in many ways a revelation. I had to learn to deal with aggressive, even abusive behaviour at times and realised soon that some customers were not always entirely honest and ethical in their approach. Yet, as per Tannie Hester’s example, I treated everybody with respect. Fortunately, the majority by far exemplified integrity and kindness and became my friends.

A few months later I was asked to open a mini branch of Kloppers in the Bloemfontein CBD. It was a small shop, located near all the major banks, and I was the only staff member. I had to sell the whole range of wares, from ladies pantyhose to refrigerators. The call I had to take every afternoon at exactly five o’clock from “Oom Willem” regarding the daily turnover served as a great source of encouragement. My service to customers was fully integrated. The stoves, refrigerators and washing machines that I sold during the day, I delivered after hours with the help of Kloppers’ delivery staff and their orange Datsun pickups. The excitement of working towards specific goals and the fulfilment of achieving them was a great source of motivation.

During this time I also founded the Bloemfontein Renault Club. It was the golden era of Renault’s motor sport success with their Alconi, Gordini and Alpine models, and enthusiasm for the brand ran high. The club members went on outings during weekends and we organised our own gymkhanas, rallies and quarter-mile sprints. My Dauphine had been replaced by a white 1964 Renault Caravelle two-door sports coupe. Although it had already done 160 000 kilometres by the time I bought it, the car was in perfect condition and my absolute pride and joy. So much so, that I washed and polished it at least three times a week.

The challenge to pull a diverse group of Renault owners together in a club proved to be invaluable leadership and management experience. In addition, I enjoyed my participation in motor sport immensely. Tillie and I did a few rallies, with her as the navigator. Despite my driving antics resulting in a severely car-sick fiancé and some unplanned pit stops, we were a formidable team – and our relationship survived. The pinnacle of my brief and rather obscure motor sport career was my participation in a three-hour endurance race with another Renault fanatic, Sam Scholtz. The car was a modified Dauphine which we built up mostly from parts sourced from scrap yards. Despite our shoestring budget, limited driving experience and an orange-coloured little car that kept on overheating, we finished the race. As we embraced in the pitlane at Bloemfontein’s Brandkop circuit, tears of joy flowed.

The Renault Club prospered and boasted almost one hundred active members. Not surprisingly, Renault’s market share in Bloemfontein benefitted from the high profile we enjoyed in the community. As a result the local dealer gave us great support. During my tenure as chairman of the club I also built up a good relationship with Vincent Wright, the Public Relations Manager at Renault Africa. Later in my life he would be instrumental in initiating the opportunity for me at Toyota SA in 1973.

After obtaining my Honours degree in Business Economics I was offered the position of junior lecturer and researcher at the Institute of Social and Economic Research (ISEN) at the University of the Free State. I accepted, since I wanted to do my Masters and therefore had to brush Kloppers’ dust off my feet. At ISEN I became involved in interesting projects aimed at preventing the further economic decline of rural Free State towns. I also worked hard at the dissertation for my Masters degree. Guided by my passion for cars, I decided to use the viability of the retail motor industry in Bloemfontein as the subject for my thesis. The quantitative research that I had to do forced me to meet with all the big motor retailers and learn from them first hand. Their feedback assisted me greatly in my future career in the motor industry.

In that year I was appointed by CAR magazine as their part-time motor sport correspondent for the Free State. Armed with a notebook and a camera I attended motor races and rallies over weekends and then struggled afterwards to write short articles in my best English. The reality was that my vocabulary was rather limited due to my rural Afrikaans upbringing. During my early years I knew only four English words: yes, no, and obviously Ford and Chev!

I will always remain grateful to CAR and Alan Ramsay in particular for this opportunity. My friendship with Alan strengthened over the years and still remains one of my most rewarding. I was particularly honoured when Alan asked me to deliver the keynote address – in English “nogal” – when CAR celebrated its 50th anniversary many years later in 2007.

My proudest day ever was 4 September 1971, my wedding day. My prophetic words to my mother three years earlier after meeting Tillie for the first time, now became a reality. The emotion I experienced when Tillie walked down the aisle on the arm of her father was almost too much to bear. Tillie was and will always remain my dream woman – principled, intelligent, capable and beautiful. Over the years my respect for her continued to grow. She is my ideal partner whose advice, assistance and support enrich my life from every perspective. Her perfect example remains a source of inspiration daily and the key role that she plays in our family an endless source of gratitude. Similarly, in my business career her contribution was invaluable. She was largely responsible for the upbringing of our three sons, a task which she handled in an exemplary manner. She sacrificed her own career in the process. In my heart there is a large monument I set up in her honour.

After the completion of my M.Com in October 1972 I started to focus seriously on possible career opportunities in the motor industry. Vincent Wright, previously at Renault SA, had joined Toyota SA in the meantime as Group Public Relations Manager. I composed a suitable letter to Vincent in which I enquired about possible job opportunities and also included a short excerpt from my thesis. Similar letters were sent to the Volkswagen and Ford headquarters respectively.

My first choice was undoubtedly a career at Toyota South Africa (TSA). As an Afrikaans-speaking South African I strongly identified with the founder of TSA, Dr. Albert Wessels. My father knew him and held him in high regard. Dr. Wessels visited us at home once or twice in the past when he was still the owner of the clothing manufacturer Veka. At the time they were marketing school blazers and my father was still the headmaster at Bultfontein High School.

As a result of Vincent paving the way for me with Colin Adcock, the managing director of Toyota South Africa’s marketing company, there was a positive response. Early in January 1973 I received a call from Ray Schulz, one of the senior managers. The outcome was a meeting with Ray in Bloemfontein and a formal job offer a week or two later. My gratitude and excitement knew no bounds – my dream was finally coming true.

Suddenly our peaceful life in Bloemfontein picked up speed. The house that we bought only one year previously had to be sold and we had to find a new home in Pretoria. We drove to Pretoria early one Friday morning and by five o’clock that afternoon we had bought a new house – in a street with the uninspiring name of Vampire, of all things! We returned to the Free State that same evening as incredibly proud home-owners, regardless of the street in which we were going to live. Fortunately our wonderful neighbours Hennie and Kittie Swanepoel would soon dispel any negative feelings about this scary name. Once we moved in we realised that all the streets in that area are named after military aircraft.

Back in Bloemfontein the realisation dawned on me that my career move was going to turn our lives upside-down. I had to say goodbye to the safe haven of academic life at the university. Tillie graduated in 1970 with a degree majoring in Maths and Psychology and had started her career at a civil engineering firm as a computer programmer. Now she would have to give up a job she loved. We also both had to leave our families behind. Within three weeks the move followed and I was ready for my new career. Tillie and I were in a state of excitement and anticipation about this adventure awaiting us.

It was there in Vampire Street that our first two sons, Brand and Jan-Louis, were born in 1974 and 1976. Jaco, the youngest, was born in 1979, after we had moved to Johannesburg two years previously. The emotions I experienced with each birth are beyond description. Holding my own son in my arms awakened an incredible sense of pride and responsibility. Suddenly my whole purpose in life changed.

The joy and privilege of being a father to my three very special sons, each one in his own way, will fill a whole book on its own; that is not what this book is about. But what I do want to say is that parenthood and the love I have received from my children and now also from my grandchildren, far exceed any rewards that my career could ever offer.

Because my business life was in the public eye to a large extent, Tillie and I made a conscious decision to compartmentalise our family life. We wanted our children to grow up in a normal, unpretentious environment and lead balanced lives. We encouraged them to each find their own platform from which to follow their dreams, be it in sport, academically or in their careers. All three did this with distinction and I am incredibly proud of them.

The rest of this book will, therefore, in line with our commitment to the privacy of our family, focus solely on my business career rather than my personal life.