The Knowledge Project with Shane Parrish - Jim Clayton: Turning Competitors’ Mistakes Into $1.7B [Outliers]

Episode Date: October 21, 2025

The incredible story of Jim Clayton and the counterintuitive strategies he used to build Clayton Homes into a juggernaut. When the bank forced him into bankruptcy at 27, they literally seized everything, including his accountant’s calculator. He started over and rebuilt following an unconventional playbook. He refused bad loans, vertically integrated everything, and played relentless offense during downturns. While the home industry collapsed in the 1970s, 1990s, and 2000s, Clayton stayed disciplined. Competitors chased growth with loose credit and failed. He survived every downturn and bought their pieces. When Warren Buffett read his autobiography, he called days later and paid $1.7 billion in cash. The lesson: discipline beats hype, vertical integration beats vulnerability, and recessions are buying opportunities. It’s time to listen and learn. ----- Some of the lessons in this episode: 1. If you have to swallow a frog, don’t look at it too long. 2. Choose not to participate in recessions. 3. Don’t fight the flow. 4. The best legal department is happy customers. 5. Turn your adversary into an advisor. 6. Bad loans are a virus. 7. There is profit in precision. 8. Own the ecosystem. 9. When you’re lost, trust your instruments. 10. Plant seeds, don’t chase the toy. ----- This episode was made possible by: Basecamp: https://basecamp.com/knowledgeproject ----- Upgrade: Get hand-edited transcripts and an ad-free experience, and so much more. Learn more @ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠fs.blog/membership⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ------ Newsletter: The Brain Food newsletter delivers actionable insights and thoughtful ideas every Sunday. It takes 5 minutes to read, and it’s completely free. See what you're missing: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠fs.blog/newsletter⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ------ Follow Shane Parrish X ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@ShaneAParrish⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Insta ⁠@farnamstreet⁠ LinkedIn ⁠Shane Parrish ------ This episode is for informational purposes only. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This is the story of Jim Clayton and Clayton Holmes. Welcome to Outliers. I'm your host, Shane Parrish. This show is all about learning from others, mastering the best of what they've figured out so you can use their lessons in your life. Jim Clayton grew up in a small town, Tennessee during the Great Depression. He was the son of a sharecropper who farmed cotton. Seven years later, Warren Buffett would read his autobiography and buy his company for one $1.7 billion in cash. The same autobiography that I read that we're going to talk about today, it's time to listen and learn. This episode is for information purposes only.

Jim Clayton spent his first 18 years in a log cabin in Tennessee. The walls had no insulation, so in winter they froze and in summer they boiled. He was born into a family of sharecroppers during the Great Depression. They worked someone else's cotton fields and split everything down the middle. The entire family, his father's mother, Jim and his brother Joe, made about $8 a week combined. It sounds like they lived under extraordinarily harsh circumstances, and they did. But Jim reflects on his autobiography. Even in that time and place, I learned that certain concepts are ageless, self-discipline, willpower, perseverance, realizing that disappointment is not defeat, knowing that problems often present opportunities. Obstacles may get in the way,

but the human spirit can triumph over these things. Jim's father was different from most sharecroppers at the time he could read and write. He'd finished high school, and he insisted his boys would learn too. One morning at breakfast, his father laid out the dream. Lee, if you work hard, save your money, finish high school, and buy yourself a mule. I'll get you a second mule, and that cotton patch out there will be yours. You'll have it better than me. Jim nodded and smiled, but even he knew.

Back then, that he'd never be a dirt farmer. He had bigger dreams, and while he didn't know it at the time, he would one day sell his company to Warren Buffett. But first, he had to learn the value of a seed. Jim's first business was selling seeds door to door. He was only 10, and he was quite natural at it. The seed company offered prizes to motivate the kids to sell. You could choose the instant gratification of a toy car

or more seeds to sell on your own and keep the profit. Every other kid took the toy car. Jim took the seeds. Decades later, he'd write about this choice. Without realizing it, I was setting the tone and shaping a philosophy that would characterize the rest of my life. I chose the seeds. It was my first attempt to become an entrepreneur. Plowing the money back into my business was a smart move. I get to keep all the proceeds from extra seeds, so it really increased my cash flow. But I learned something far more profitable. Forgo those things, that give you momentary satisfaction. Look at the long term.

Defer profits for something more substantial. Pass up the plastic toy and invest your capital. Plant the right seeds. It's funny how the foundation of how he would go on to build his empire was already taking shape when he was 10. The money wasn't just changing Jim's bank balance. It was changing how he saw the world. During World War II, his father got a deferment from the draft

because he raised cotton and food for the war. effort. He also acquired a Ford 8-end tractor that did the work of six men and a dozen mules. With so many farm boys gone off to war, Jim's father ran that tractor 24 hours a day, plowing not just his own fields, but all the neighbor's fields too. His father would run it all night until sunrise, and then Jim's mother would take over, and then Jim and Joe. Just before dark, his father would hop back on and keep plowing. They charged $50 a day, and that year made over $2,000. That money let the family leave the log cabin and move into a house in town, one with electric lights and individual bedrooms. Jim saw something crucial. Jumping social classes

was possible. The cotton patch was not his destiny. He started working every job he could find. He was still selling seeds, of course, but now he was also running his own taxi service. Every morning before high school, he'd drive his mother and four of her colleagues to work at 6.45 a.m. Then he'd pick up four of his teachers and drive them to school along with himself, 25 cents per person per week. By 16, Jim was getting good at the guitar, and he landed his first real break. A radio station in Jackson, Tennessee, had a live Saturday program called The Farm and Home Show, where local performers could get half-hour slots.

But there was one catch. You had to bring in your own sponsors to pay for the airtime. Each commercial was a dollar a hauler, 60 seconds of ad time. for a buck. Jim landed two sponsors from nearby store owners. He brought in his own band, did country songs, enclosed with a hymn, and handled all the commercial reads himself. He'd call each sponsor before the show to customize the ads with their latest offers and inventory. He was 16 years old with his own radio show. He was podcasting before podcasting. And if you're wondering why we have sponsors, this is why we have sponsors. Jim understood exactly what this was.

He called it his loss leader. Maybe I didn't make any money from the program itself, but it brought in other work and gave me a certain cachet. The people running those church socials and country fairs heard my show and suddenly saw me in a special light as a star in some cases. At 16, Jim already understood that sometimes you don't make money on the product itself. You make money on what the product makes possible. It worked so well that one of the staff guitar players started playing backup for Jim every Saturday morning.

This guitarist was also a sharecropper's son, whose dad had made his first guitar from a cigar box, a broom handle, and a bailing wire. Within five years, this fellow would scribble out a song on the back of a potato sack called Blue Suede Shoes and sell two million copies. That guitar player who backed up teenage Jim Clayton every Saturday morning, his name was Carl Perkins. While Jim was building his side businesses, his relationship with his father was fracturing. Jim's mother and grandmother loved his radio show. They'd offer suggestions and tell him how good he sang. But his father? Jim says,

Dad never said much to me about the radio show, though I know he listened some Saturdays if bad weather kept him inside. Then came a moment that would stick with Jim for the rest of his life. He was at the local service station when he overheard his father talking to a neighbor. The neighbor asked if Jim repaired radios. His father, not knowing Jim could hear him, said he's really good at fixing most anything that can go wrong with him. Jim wrote, I can't begin to describe the good feelings that washed over me when dad said that. He didn't think I had heard him, and I surely didn't bring it up to him later, so afraid was I to break the spell.

That overheard compliment was the first real praise from his father ever. It made Jim hungry for more. So we decided to do something nice for his dad. He secretly installed a radio in his father's old Chevy pickup. He figured his father could listen to the news, music, maybe even Jim's Saturday radio show. At lunch, Jim snuck over to the truck and carefully installed a used radio in the dash. It worked perfectly. But when Jim proudly told his father about the surprise gift, his father exploded.

If I'd wanted a radio, I'd had bought one. Then his father grabbed his barlow knife, cut a switch from a peach tree, and came at Jim to whip him. But Jim was 18 years old and he was making his own money and he'd had enough. You're not going to whip me now and you're not going to whip me again, Jim admits he said it. while backing away. That might not sound particularly courageous, not exactly on the order of Churchill telling the Germans to go to hell, but considering that I had never at that point talked back to dad in my entire life, this was the ultimate defiance. His father couldn't catch him. Instead, he yelled, come back here and take your whipping like a man. Jim says simply, I failed to see

the correlation between the two. That night, Jim removed the radio and made sure his father never saw it again. Months later, when his father traded in the truck for a new one, it came with a deluxe push-button Chevy radio. Jim was 18 years old and knew with absolute certainty he was done with farming. He saw three escape roads, join the military, move to Detroit and build cars, or become a country music star. His mother shut down the military immediately. She wanted him closer to home. And Jim knew the music option would take more time and luck than he had. The day after his high school graduation in June 1952, Jim borrowed the family car and headed to Memphis. He wore a

use suit from the secondhand store. He went to the state unemployment office and by the end of the day he had four interviews. He got two job offers. One was welding. The other was with Memphis light, gas, and water, repairing two-way mobile radios. It paid a quarter less per hour, but radios were his specialty. So he took it. The job was brutal, but Jim thrived. He repaired TVs at night, played honky talk for 20 bucks to show, started selling vacuum cleaners door to door. He even kept his radio show going in West Memphis. Then he met Bill Elliott. Bill was an electrical engineer at Memphis Light, Gas, and Water.

A few years older than Jim and already on the fast track. He had something Jim had never really considered before. A college degree. Bill became Jim's unofficial mentor. First, he coached Jim to get his FCC radio operator license. Jim passed and got an immediate raise. Then Bill did something more ambitious. On a Saturday morning, he took Jim on a tour of the Memphis State University campus. By Monday at lunch, they'd worked out a schedule. Jim would take pre-engineering classes in the morning and work at the utility company in the afternoon. The pace was unsustainable. College classes, homework, utility job, TV repair work, the honky tonk band, the radio show. By Christmas, the right side of Jim's face began twitching uncontrollably.

Then it went completely paralyzed, and I know from personal experience just how freaky this is because I had Bell's palsy. For six months, he couldn't smile. He couldn't close his right eye without using his finger. His body was forcing him to slow down. Doctors couldn't diagnose it. The paralysis eventually faded, but the lesson stuck. Still, Bill Elliott kept pushing. By summer of 1953, Bill W.

was nudging Jim toward an even bigger goal, getting an electrical engineering degree from the University of Tennessee. So Jim packed his Chevy and moved 400 miles to Knoxville. On his first day, he joined a fraternity and met his future wife Mary on a blind date. She was a home economics major from a religious family. Her father was a Studebaker car dealer. Her brother sold old small wheels. That detail would matter more than Jim knew at the time. Are you struggling to manage your projects at work, using lots of different tools for communication, task management, and scheduling, doesn't have to be this hard. Basecamp is the refreshingly straightforward, reliable project management platform. It's designed for small and growing businesses, so there's none of the complexity

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small team or growing business base camp scales with you. Stop struggling, start making progress, get somewhere with base camp. Sign up for free at basecamp.com. Okay, flights on air Canada. Oh, wow. Mayorka, that's new. Oh, nice. But Vienna is a classic Mozart, palaces and schnitzel.

Mm-mm, now you're cooking. If you're hungry, deli brings the heat. Heat. Cartagena's got sun and the sea to cool off. So does Martinique. Mm-hmm. And that French cuisine. Book it. Yes, chef.

Wait, what about Leon? Choose from our world of destinations if you can. Air Canada. Nice travels. In the spring of 1954, Jim saw a billboard that said see Knoxville by air for $5. He'd never been in a plane, but 10 minutes later, he was taking a flying lesson for $10 instead of the tourist ride. Within six lessons, he fell in love with flying. But flying lessons were expensive, and Jim needed.

his own plane. So he found a classified ad mentioning a good airplane for $895. That was a crazy amount of money at the time. The seller was a bootleger doing time. Jim had an idea. He convinced his brother and some buddies to form a flying club, each put in $120, so they bought the plane together. The other guys quickly discovered that getting a pilot's license required actual work. They'd lost interest. Jim essentially had his own airplane for $120. He decided to fly home to show his family what the sharecropper's son had become. He circled the town at 800 feet watching people pour out of buildings to look up. His mother, who'd never flown, climbed in without hesitation. His father's pride was unmistakable. But the flight back to Knoxville nearly killed him. He was

following his flight plan when his passenger checked the map. The checkpoint should have had a stream running through a valley. The valley was there, but the stream wasn't. They must be off course. Jim abandoned his flight planned and started searching for Highway 70. He couldn't find it. They turned south, 20 minutes later north. They were chasing their tails with the fuel gauge bouncing on empty. They barely made it, landing on a two-lane road, 50 miles off course. Some farmers gave him some fuel, and they eventually made it home. But the whole fiasco would teach him some business lessons that would guide him for decades. Later, he writes, how do you know which way to go if you don't know where you are? That was the crux of the question, and it applies to more than just

an airplane ride. A business, a family, a relationship, or an individual all need a plan to reach the desired goal. For whatever endeavor a human being is engaged in, an anchor is needed, reference points, to provide directions to the destination along with the time and resources required to get there. And he goes on. Abandoning a well thought out and well research plan is an act of desperation that occurs just before a crash and burn. Stay with the plan. A bad plan is more likely to work than no plan at all. If I'd always acted on my feelings, there's probably a time or two I'd have jumped off a building. Instead, it's good to put emotions in their proper perspective. Recognize that in the course of a single day, you'll pass

through dozens of different emotions. You'll shrug off some, laugh at some, and minimize reaction to them. Chart your course with strategic planning. Think of a business plan as your map with a timeline and checkpoints to follow en route. Basically, when you're flying, you have to ignore the seat of your pants feelings. Under certain conditions, your senses just can be dead wrong. The only thing that matters is data from the instruments or outside visual references. Jim summed this up in a line he took from a pilot's book that I think is really important.

The last thing you should do is the first thing you feel you're should do. In other words, drink predicaments when you've lost all sense of direction. Don't trust your senses. Don't act on impulse. It's the same with your business. If you've lost all sense of direction there, don't react on a whim. Instead, take your feelings out of the mix, gather all the data you can, analyze what you've got available, consult with your experts, engage your reliable sources, and identify the root cause of the problem through rational thinking, not raw passion. Around the same time, Jim made another discovery that would actually change his life. He and Mary were looking for an apartment when they passed a mobile home park.

This was 1956. Mobile homes were seen as temporary housing for construction workers or military families. But Jim saw something different, a product that solved multiple problems at once. Affordability, privacy, no shared walls with neighbors above, below, or beside you. So he found a retailer desperate to. to get out of business, convinced him to sell a home for just the balance owed to the bank. That was $500 below wholesale.

Years later, Jim discovered that the retailer had added a $500 kickback to the invoice. This was his first lesson in how the mobile home industry worked. There was skimming at every level. Keep in mind, this is an industry that he would come to dominate. The business started with cars. Jim had been trying to sell his old Kaiser,

car nobody wanted because parts were impossible to find. So we ran a three-line ad in the local paper must-sell car to pay for college. He got two offers right away at his asking price. After selling the Kaiser, he had another buyer still interested. So Jim rushed over to a friend Studebaker that was for sale and sold that too. The friend gave him $50 for the favor. Two cars, one ad. Jim thought I'm on to something here. So he started haunting the used car lots on the Clinton highway, going to auctions. He'd buy a Chevy for $200, fix it up, run his classified ad about needing money for college, sell it for $300, $50 profit for a few hours of work. Soon he was buying two or three cars at a time. He recruited his brother Joe and six friends as his sales force. The business grew

so fast that the state motor vehicle department showed up one rainy afternoon. It was immediately obvious Jim was operating in a legal car dealership. They explained the massive fines that he was facing. But instead of fighting them, Jim admitted his ignorance and turned his adversary into an ally. Jim writes about this

moment. It was obvious that arguing with them would be self-defeating, so I became humble and listened intently. I acknowledged my ignorance. I assured them my goal was to obey all laws. I thank the examiner for bringing this to my attention and apologize for inconveniencing the very

departments and their staff. With the appropriate meekness, I asked him to assist me in becoming a fully authorized license and registered automobile dealer. Within moments, my adversary became my mentor. If Jim acted quickly to meet all the requirements, they'd waived the fines. By then, Jim had graduated with his electrical engineering degree and gotten a stable government job at the TVA. He was decent money, but he was bored out of his mind and making more selling cars on the side, so he quit. He rented space at Texago station for $60 a month and put up a sign. Jim Clayton Autoland. He was in business legally this time. The breakthrough came when Jim met Fenton Kingston, a loan officer at Valley Fidelity Bank. Jim asked him, would you like to have

applications on good future customers of mind? Fenton was enthusiastic. He said yes. They worked out a system. Jim would prescreen customers and send the good ones to Fenton. Credit checks, document, documents, men's done. Jim would have his check quickly, but Fenton became more than a loan processor. He became Jim's mentor. You're selling your cars too damn cheap, Fenton told him bluntly. Charge a little more. Your cars are worth more. Jim listened and raised his profit from $100 to $250 per car. Sales kept climbing. By 1959, Jim had moved into imports. He discovered he could sell Volkswagen as a gray marketer, buying beetles that Volkswagen secretly supplied while keeping official dealers on the allocation to create artificial scarcity.

The official Volkswagen dealer in town, the Snyder brothers ran huge newspaper ads warning against gray market Volkswagen's. They never named Jim, but everybody knew. Unwittingly, Jim recalls, the Snyders became excellent promoters for us. The more they ran those ads, the more Beatles we sold. Everyone wanted to know what a gray market Volkswagen. was and why you didn't have to wait to buy one like you did at all the official Volkswagen dealers. By 1960, Clayton Motors had grown beyond anyone's imagination. Jim had franchise agreements

with Volvo, Renault, British Motor Company, and American Motors. They had 70 employees in multiple locations. They were growing fast. I want to tell you about a few of the tricks that they used to grow fast because I think they were interesting. Jim insisted that managers knew the market before advertising. For example, which radio stations do people listen to? And this information can be easily gathered. One way that they used to do this in the 50s, 60s, and 70s was to go to a nearby shopping center, walk through the parking lot, and look through each car window to see where the radio dial was set. Almost always, most of the cars would be set to the same station. I thought that was really clever. Another unconventional thing Jim did was his managers would always insist on these big and

expensive yellow page ads. After all, all the competition has them. So Jim would argue with them, but eventually he would agree on one condition. A bright red phone is set aside in the sales center office specifically for this test, a new number assigned to it. This number only appears in the yellow pages ad. The deal is that if the red phone rings even a handful of times will remove the yellow handcuffs and let the manager buy an ad, a small ad with the sales center's main number. listed. Guess what? That phone never rang, no matter how big the ad was they placed. They were growing fast. That's when Tom Preston showed up. He was a young vice president at Hamilton National Bank, Knoxville's largest bank. His main qualification was having a grandfather who'd owned a large

share of the bank and an uncle who was bank president. But Tom told Jim exactly what he wanted to hear, grow more and faster. This was the opposite of Fent's. Fenton's advice. Remember Fenton had been doing all the financing up until now. Fenton wanted to put Jim on a growth moratorium for a year. He thought Jim was growing too fast and Fenton didn't much like Tom Preston. But Tom was whispering to Jim exactly the words he wanted to hear. So in 1960, he made the decision that would nearly destroy everything. He transferred all of his accounts to Hamilton National Bank. He walked into Fenton's office with a cashier's check for $110,000. Fenton didn't get angry. He didn't even raise his voice. But Jim writes, he was sad and not so much because he was losing my business. More than anything, he seemed to be sad for me. Fenton, of course, was up to speed on Tom Preston and his various activities and was well aware of how Tom's liberal credit requirements had already taken significant market share. There were tears in his eyes when he said Tom's department's going to get in trouble. I'll give him a year. You'll be lucky if you don't get caught up in it.

action at the time was there goes Fenton again, so conservative, so careful. The only problem, Fentonton was right. Tom Preston was about to get in a lot of trouble and Clayton Motors would get caught up in it. In the spring of 1961, after just five years of selling cars, Volvo named Jim their top dealer in America. They flew him to Sweden for two weeks of celebration. Jim even gave a speech to 600 Bolvo dealers from around the world with dozens of interpret. translating simultaneously. If you build them, America will buy them and I'll keep selling my share, he told them. He received a standing ovation.

At 27 years old, Jim was treated like royalty. He was the personification of Volvo's American future. A few days later, his brother Joe met him at the airport with devastation written on his face. I have a problem with the bank, he said immediately. During Jim's two weeks in Sweden, the aggressive bank that Jim had switched. to, Hamilton National had discovered what Fenton had predicted. Tom Preston's book of business was full of bad loans, poor documentation, and angry customers. It had finally caught up with him and the bank was panicking. They decided to terminate relationships with all their indirect

dealers immediately. Jim Clayton was one of those dealers. They were calling in all of Clayton Motors notes. $275,000 due today. at the bank was a disaster. Jim and Joe brought their lawyers, both fresh out of law school. The young lawyers started telling the bank's veteran attorneys and president Harry Nacey what they could and couldn't do. That was not a good idea. Jim watched the aggravation mount. Finally, Nacey looked at his watch. He had a tennis match in 20 minutes. Let's bankrupt these little SOBs, Nacy said. I can't be late for my tennis match. Well, Jim and Joe were still in that meeting. bank representatives were already at both Clayton Motors locations with court orders. They took

everything, every car, every key, even the keys to customers' cars that were in for oil changes. They grabbed mechanics' tools, cash, and accounting records. They even took the adding machine from Jim's accountant, who was there doing an audit. When the accountant tried to leave, he discovered they'd taken his car keys too. The Knoxville newspapers ran the bankruptcy on their front pages. The TV news covered it. One paper mentioned Jim had just returned from Sweden, which some readers confused with Switzerland. A rumor would persist for decades that Jim had secret Swiss bank accounts. Clayton Motors was gone. That night, Jim went to bed thinking his life was over. Then he woke up the next morning feeling great. By 6.30, he and Joe were at a local restaurant

with four of their best employees planning a resurrection. They would form a new company. Clayton Motors Incorporated. Their bankruptcy attorney Bernie Bernstein explained that even in bankruptcy, they could form a new corporation. The challenge was getting a location since Hamilton National and taken over their leases. Bernie had a solution to that too. Contact the old landlords and sign new leases for the same properties under the new company name. When the bank found out they were furious, but they had no choice. Clayton Motors incorporated even let the bank store the seized cars there while preparing for auction. Jim wanted it to look like business as usual to all the passing traffic. Meanwhile, Jim's parents found out about the bankruptcy

from a mysterious caller. His mother was home and the phone rang. Miss Clayton, there's something you need to know, the voice said. But first, you have to promise never to tell anyone I gave you this information. When she agreed, the caller dropped the bomb. Your sons have just filed for bankruptcy. To his mother, bankruptcy was as bad as first-degree murder. Nobody in the Clayton family had ever well on her debt. She'd called her boys immediately. She was horrified. The next morning, their father was on the road to Knoxville. When he arrived, Jim saw something he'd never seen before. Tears in his father's eyes. Are my boys going to jail? His father asked the lawyer. Bernie put his arm around his shoulder and said, Mr. Clayton, I assure you that your boys won't go to

jail. I'll see to it. Before leaving, their father gave them a check for $2,600. It was everything he had in the bank. Auto franchises dropped Jim and Joe immediately. American Motors. Gone. Renaud. British Motor Company, gone. All except one. Jim called Volvo headquarters and explained that their golden boy was now bankrupt. However, six new Volvos were already on the way to Knoxville, so Volvo had a choice. They could reclaim the cars or trust Jim to pay them. Volvo chose trust. Now came the clever part. Bernie confirmed that while the business was bankrupt, Jim and Joe as individuals were not. They could bid at the bank's liquidation auction under the new company. So when the bank auctioned off the seized inventory, Jim and Joe were there

with luds of cash, $2,600 from their father, $3,000 from their staff, and $8,500 from selling a Volvo sports coup that Jim had bought in Sweden. At the auction, Jim and Joe knew every car, every part, every tool. They knew exactly what everything was worth. As they won bid after bid, buying back their own inventory of bargain prices that banks' representatives watched in horror. Is this legal? Can we stop them? They couldn't. But here's the brilliant part. Jim and Joe pre-sold many of those cars before the auction even started. They'd contacted customers, explained how they could get a great car at auction prices, take their cash, and made the purchase, and they pocketed a reasonable profit. On the cars, they took back to the lot, they doubled their money. The bank had made a crucial mistake.

As Bernie pointed out, if creditors got much more than 10% in bankruptcy proceedings, the bankruptcy probably wasn't justified. Jim's creditors got 41 cents on the dollar. The bank should have just worked with them. They dropped, as Jim put it, and Adam Baum. Jim and Joe made a vow. They would pay back not just the 41 cents on the dollar required by bankruptcy, but 100 cents on the dollar to every single creditor. It took five years, but they paid everyone back in full. This theme is super interesting because it keeps coming up. Do you remember Jimmy Patterson's father who worked for decades to pay everyone back? Dick Stack, who founded Dick's sporting goods, sold everything he had to pay his creditors back when the first company went bankrupt.

There are three things about the bankruptcy that I want to draw your attention to that stood out for me. The first is the advice his grandfather gave him. If you have to swallow a frog, don't look at it too long. If you have to swallow two frogs, swallow the big scutter first. And Jim would write that about bankruptcy. There were so many frogs to swallow, and these were all supersized. I really like that line. If you have to swallow a frog, don't look at it too long.

Another thing that stood out to me was his optimistic approach. Certainly he wrote, these were depressing times, but Joe and I spent almost no time moaning about what happened. Both of us tend to be consistently optimistic. The lesson here is that all the time you spend complaining about what happened or how unfair it was comes at the expense of making the situation better. And finally, hard times reveal which of our relationships are truly lasting. You can't figure that out in the easy times. Every day at the bankruptcy courthouse, Jim sat next to Bernie Bernstein, his lawyer, watching the lawyers tear through the bankrupt Clayton Motors. The lawyers controlled everything. They spoke a language

he didn't understand, wielded rules he didn't know existed, and charged bees that made his headspin. If he'd known what Bernie knew, Jim thought, he never would have ended up here in the first place. So in 1962, while most men his age were settling into their careers, Jim Clayton enrolled in law school, not because he wanted to become a lawyer, but because he wanted to avoid bankruptcy again. The University of Tennessee School of Law didn't know what to make of him. He showed up in class, in the back row, hiding behind the biggest student he could find, what Jim called a quote-unquote double-wide. He'd snapped to attention when called upon. Venture a comment about torts or contracts and then go back to

his juggling act. Law school student in the morning, car dealer in the afternoon, working at the radio station again too. His grades were straight seized, just enough to keep moving forward. But Jim wasn't there for the grades. He was there to learn how to see around corners. Every contract he draft, every lawsuit, he dodged, every regulation he'd navigate for the next 40 years would be filtered through what he learned in those three years. The real education came from watching Bernie work. Jim spent countless hours observing how Bernie devoured mountains of research before taking any position.

Bernie taught him that business was about being prepared, and a large part of that preparation meant understanding the rules better than anyone else in the room. The most important lesson he learned, though, was avoiding trouble. My experience, he reflected later, indicates that over 80% of least, Legal claims originate because of a failure to deliver customer satisfaction. Therefore, it has always been my conclusion that most of our claims can be eliminated if we simply meet or exceed customer expectations. This reminds me of a passage from poor Charlie's Almanac that I want to read to you. And this is Charlie Munger talking.

When I was very young, my father practiced law. One of his best friends, Grant McFadden, Omaha's pioneer Ford dealer, was a client. He was a perfectly marvelous man, a self-made Irishman who'd run away uneducated from a farm as a youth because his father beat him. So he made his own way in the world. He was a brilliant man of enormous charm and integrity, just a wonderful, wonderful man. In contrast, my father had another client who was a blowhard, an overreaching, unfair, pompous, difficult man. And I must have been 14 years old or thereabouts when I asked, Dad, why do you do so much work for Mr. X, this overreaching blowhard instead of working more for

wonderful men like Grant McFadden. My father said Grant McFadden treats all of his employees right, his customers right, and his problems right. And if he gets involved with a psychotic, he quickly walks over to where the psychotic is and works out an exit as fast as he can. Therefore, Grant McFadden doesn't have enough renumerative law business to keep you in Coca-Cola. But Mr. X is a walking minefield of wonderful legal business. This case demonstrates one of the troubles with practicing law. To a considerable extent, you're going to be dealing with grossly defective people. They create an enormous amount of the remunerative law business.

And even when your own client is a paragon of virtue, you'll often be dealing with gross defectives on the other side or even on the bench. That's partly what drove me out of the profession. I'd argue that my father's model, when I asked him about the two clients, was totally correct. He taught me the right lesson. The lesson monger says, as you go through life, sell your services once in a while to an unreasonable blowhard if that's what you must do to feed your family. But run your own life like Grant McFadden. And Jim Clayton, even with his law degree, was running his life like Grant McFadden.

Treat your employees right, treat your customers right, and treat your problems right. and you avoid most legal trouble. The transition from cars to mobile homes started with an irritation. Every morning from his growing car dealership, Jim watched the traffic jam on the highway in front of his dealership. The Taylor brothers were delivering a mobile home. These massive boxes 10 feet wide and 50 feet long would lumber out of their lot while cars were backed up both directions on the highway.

And every time Jim saw one, he would think, this happens every day, these darned guys, and I hear they make a couple thousand bucks every time they sell one. Ten times what we make when we sell a car. Darn, guys. Those Taylor sure are doing well. No wonder they're living the high life. Real party guys.

Just think, every time I see one of those big things pass me on the road, they've made a couple grand, and I see it every day. Gee, that mobile home business must be really good. Remember, this was the 1960s. $2,000 was a lot of money. He already knew a lot about it. mobile homes, having lived in a couple, so he decided to test the waters. He found a classified at 10 by 56, like new, small kitchen fire. When Jim arrived, he discovered small kitchen fire was

being generous. The kitchen was charcoal. The ceiling had melted. Black soot covered everything like volcanic ash. But Jim saw something else. Bones worth $1,200 that could be rebuilt into something worth $4,500. So he recruited his parents for the rebuild. His mother attacked the sit. His father rebuilt the fixtures. Jim handled the business side negotiating with suppliers. Two days and $800 later, they hadn't even finished the new floor when somebody driving

by saw the sign for sale and bought it on the spot. $2,000 profit in two days of work. Jim started studying the mobile home business at night. He wanted to know every. single detail. He'd walk through the Taylor Brothers lot, measuring homes, examining construction. He'd visit other dealers, posing as a customer, asking about suppliers, margins, financing. He discovered an industry that was booming, but still a little prehistoric. The numbers were staggering. In 1966, when Jim was getting serious about mobile homes,

the industry was shipping about 200,000 units a year. By 1973, it would hit 580,000. Mobile homes were weren't a niche anymore. This is how a growing portion of Americans were choosing to live. But industry was stuck in the dark ages. Manufacturers built homes like there were still travel trailers. Retailers operated on pure commission with no training, no standards, and no service after the sale. Lenders treated mobile home buyers like subprime borrowers even with perfect credit. Everyone was trying to extract maximum profit at every level with minimal effort. And demand was still growing like gangbusters. Jim's first real move came through a chance meeting with Don Tidwell, a mobile home

manufacturer and madman genius. Tidwell had Elvis Presley-like sideburns. He wore rhinestone studded shirts and had transformed mobile home design by doing something revolutionary. He used colors other than brown. While every other manufacturer covered every surface with dark wood paneling, Tidwell was using bright reds, blues, and golds. Customers couldn't get enough.

But Tidwell had a problem. Turns out the Taylor brothers. They wanted to prevent him from selling to competitors while they directed sales to other manufacturers. It was a classic storm arm tactic in an industry full of them. And Tidwell was fed up and he was looking for an out. So when Jim showed up, this pilot, lawyer, engineer, car dealer, who actually understood manufacturing, Tidwell saw his opportunity. Standing on the airport tarmac, Tidwell sketched a sign for Clayton Mobile Homes, right on the wing of Jim's Cessna. He drew a little revolving mobile home on top. Then they shook hands.

Jim had just become a mobile home dealer, except he had no inventory, no lot, no real experience. But he had something more valuable. He had a crystal clear vision for what the industry could become. Then, the banker that originally backed Clayton Motors, the one who warned him about growing too fast, was called to help finance things. Jim writes,

You could see the reluctance on his face, even before his feet touched the grovel. It seemed hard for him to even look at the shiny new homes. He was quick to remind me that with one bankruptcy under our belts, he was too old to go through another. I spent considerable time assuring him the move-all home business was just something on the side, nothing more. After all, we had to do something with the extra land. Fen, I understand your concerns, I said, but I assure you, They'll never be more than 10 homes on this lot ever. That promise would last a month.

The Clinton Highway location Jim chose was strategic, right across from the Taylor brothers on land that had been a failed drive-in restaurant. Every customer who got frustrated with the Taylor's high-pressure sales tactics would see Jim Clayton's sign. Every traffic jam the Taylor's cause would have drivers staring at Jim's inventory. But Jim's real innovation wasn't location, it was integration. Manufacturers wanted to build homes as cheaply as possible and ship them to dealers. Dealers wanted to sell homes for as much markup as possible and then forget about them. Lenders wanted to charge the highest rates possible and floor clothes at the first missed payment.

Nobody was thinking about the customer after they walked out the door. Nobody was thinking about the life cycle of the product. Nobody was thinking like an engineer. Jim was an engineer. And his approach was different. When a customer bought a home from Clayton, that was the beginning of the relationship, not the end. When something broke, Clayton fixed it immediately. When customers needed to upgrade, Clayton took their trade in.

When financing fell through, Clayton found another lender or financed it themselves. But to really control quality, Jim realized he needed to control manufacturing. My original plan was to build homes that were nothing like the competition. I quickly found out how difficult it would be to make homes that unique. Even building homes with the standard look was going to be a problem. His first factory was an abandoned body shop, barely big enough for three homes. The very first home they built was 12 feet wide. The door in the body shop was 11 feet 10 inches.

They had to knock out the wall to get it out. His father was helping with production called with the news. We have a small problem. The home is too big for the darn door. But the mistake taught Jim something crucial. In the mobile home industry, nobody really measured anything. precisely. Homes were built to about 12 feet wide. They were around 60 feet long. Two halves of a double wide pretty much fit together. This casualness was why mobile homes had such a terrible

reputation. Jim instituted quality control. Every home was measured to the inch. Every system was tested before shipping. When the industry standard for double wides was to build them separately and hope they fit together at the site, often involving a sledgehammer, Jim and insisted on building them as one unit, then sawing them apart. When those homes arrived at a customer site, they fit together perfectly. No sledgehammer required. The manufacturing plant lost money for six straight years. For six years, his banker shook their heads at him. His board pushed him to shut it down. But Jim saw what they didn't. Every perfectly fitted home was a customer who would recommend Clayton to friends. Every recommendation was a future sale. Every future sale was another

step towards market domination. As they grew, so did customer complaints. Competitors hired squadrons of lawyers to fight them, but Jim took a different path. For 30 years, Clayton Holmes operated with a legal department of one person, Jim himself. Not because he couldn't afford more lawyers, but because he didn't need them. When an angry customer threatened to sue, Jim didn't hide behind legal briefs. He'd pick up the phone. The opposing attorney would be expecting another attorney instead, they get the CEO. Jim would disarm them with talk of football, then say simply, we lawyers always have a stack of files on our desk that will be profitable and another stack not likely to produce much income. I don't see how either one of us is going to retire on this case.

Often the opposing attorney would chuckle and agree. They'd reach an amicable settlement. With Amex Platinum, access to exclusive Amex pre-sale tickets can score you a spot track side. So being a fan for life turns into the trip of a lifetime. That's the powerful backing of Amex. Pre-sale tickets for future events subject to availability and varied by race. Turns and conditions apply.

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contact Desjardin today. We'd love to talk. Business. Jim remembered something from law school. His professor's rule number one about being an attorney, get the fee. So during these conversations, Jim would offer to reimburse the attorney's client for their legal fees. He wouldn't suggest an exact number, but give them a ballpark he knew would be enough. On other occasions, and this is what worked the best. He'd do something no corporate lawyer would do. He'd visit customers personally. He'd bring a camera, a notepad,

and the manager from Clayton Holmes who'd cause the problem. Together with the customer, they'd document every complaint from the front door to the back bedroom. And a strange thing would happen halfway through this tour. The hostile customer would stop being hostile.

They'd start saying things like, ah, don't bother with that little gap and the trim, I'll take care of that myself. By the end, they'd be laughing about fishing in politics. The secret was something Jim called the Max Nickel's service letter. They'd fix everything on the list in order with the customer initiating each repair. One furious couple whose home had been delivered late ended up referring three new customers to Clayton within a year. The total cost to resolve their complaint? The repair work plus $500 towards legal fees. A lawsuit

would have been 50 times that. Clayton spent a fraction on legal fees, not because they had fewer problems, but because Jim saw that 80% of legal claims came from one source, a failure to deliver customer satisfaction. Fix the satisfaction problem and the legal problems disappear. They'd never wanted to own mobile home parks, but the deal fell into their lap. An investor had built Greenacre's mobile home park in Knoxville, but couldn't find anyone to move in. He convinced Jim to put a dozen Clayton homes there, completely set up and ready for immediate occupancy. The problem was nobody bought them. It took two years to sell those 12 homes. By 1973, with only 30 homes in green acres, the investor gave up. He sold it to Clayton for less than the construction costs. Jim thought it

was still a good investment. A profitable park would provide reliable year-round revenue and take up the slack during winter when home sales were slow. As they bought other parks, they learned an expensive lesson. One park had a creek running through it. No problem, they thought. They'd reshape the land and divert the flow around the edge. Major mistake. Water goes where it wants to go, Jim writes, and where it wants to go is where it is always gone. Walkways collapsed, the blacktop crumbled,

fissures popped up where the creek used to be. They paved that park twice, $30,000 each time, and within a month the rain washed it all away. The lesson was simple. Literally go with the flow. Make your plan, conform to the land, not the other way around, either work with it or walk away. Now Jim was making the homes, he was selling them, and had parks to put them in. The next step in the vertical integration

was obvious. Jim had watched lenders make fortunes off mobile home buyers, charging rates that would make a loan shark blush. So he created Vanderbilt mortgage, starting with just 12 index cards on his brother Joe's desk representing owner-financed accounts they had started. By controlling the financing, Clayton could sell to customers other dealers wouldn't touch. By servicing their own loans, they knew exactly how their customers were doing. When someone missed a payment instead of foreclosing, Clayton worked with them. Maybe they needed a payment holiday. Maybe they needed to refinance. Maybe they needed to trade down to a smaller home. Every solution was available at Jim's fingertips. The integration went even deeper. Clayton created Vanderbilt life insurance to protect

both buyer and company if something happened to the breadwinner. They bought mobile home parks so that they can control where the homes were placed. They created a warranty program so customers knew exactly what was covered and for how long. By 1973, Clayton Homes wasn't really a mobile home company anymore. It was a vertically integrated housing system. They controlled every step from factory floor to the final mortgage payment. When a customer walked on to a Clayton lot, they entered an ecosystem designed to solve every problem they might encounter.

The numbers were staggering. In one weekend, they'd sold 26 homes. In one month, they sold 86 homes from a single location. They sold 700 homes in a year, a record that still stands. No other dealer had ever come close because no other dealer had built the infrastructure Jim had built. Then came 1974, and everything fell apart. The OPEC oil embargo hit, inflation exploded, unemployment sword,

and interest rates went through the roof. The mobile home industry, which had shipped 580,000 units in 1973, sold only $212,000 in 1975. It was a 60% collapse in two years. Dead manufacturing plants that were bleeding cash, dozens of retail locations burning through overhead, hundreds of employees depending on paychecks, and millions in personally guaranteed loans. But Jim did something that seemed insane at the time. He played offense. While competitors closed locations, he kept everyone open.

While others fired salespeople, he kept them all employed. While others cut advertising, he increased it. His logic was simple. When the recession ended, Clayton Homes would be the only company ready to capture the recovery. To survive, they had to innovate, though. So Jim's team created the Vegas, a stripped-down model that sold for $5,995,000, less than many used mobile homes. When traditional lenders stopped lending, Jim, expanded Vanderbilt mortgage.

When customers couldn't afford down payments that created new insurance products, every problem became an opportunity to strengthen the ecosystem. By 1976, when the recession ended, Clayton Holmes had done something unprecedented. They did not only survive the worst downturn in industry history

as a fully integrated housing company, but they grew. The few competitors who survived were still just retailers or manufacturers or lenders. Clayton was all of those things. When other recessions arrived in the late 70s and 80s, Clayton had developed as saying, the country is in a recession and we have elected not to participate.

During those tough times with 20% interest rates, Clayton grew sales by 25% each year while keeping factories open and sales centers staffed. Wall Street noticed Clayton homes. Investment bankers started calling the company went on a roadshow for their IPO, 20 cities in 10 days. When they got to Boston, analysts whispered to Jim that Peter Lynch might drop by for five.

minutes. The Peter Lynch, who turned Fidelity's Magellan Fund into the best performing mutual fund in history, he'd stayed a full hour. By the time Jim got back to his hotel, everyone wanted in. Fidelity wanted three times their initial allocation. The IPO priced at $16 on June 22nd, 1983. By noon the next day, it was trading at 1950. They'd raised $31 million in a single morning. Before the IPO, Jim owned 100% of the company, after selling $20,000. of the public, he received $10.5 million in cash and retained an 80% ownership of Clayton homes, now valued at $120 million. When his team asked if he wanted a party, Jim suggested they all get back to work. Going public changed the game a bit, quarterly earnings calls and analysts

who'd never sold a mobile home telling you how to run your business. But Jim ignored the noise and just focused on the fundamentals. They paid off all their debt and opened a new manufacturing plan. The strategy was surprisingly simple. While competitors in the late 80s chase growth by loosening credit standards, Clayton maintained discipline. When those competitors collapsed in the early 90s from the savings and loan crisis, Clayton was still standing. Between 1983 and 2003, Clayton homes grew from 30 retail centers to over 300, from three manufacturing plans to 20, from a few million in mortgage receivables, to over a billion. By the late 90s, the manufactured housing industry was in another meltdown.

All the big names were either dead or dying. They'd all done what Jim refused to do. They'd all chased growth with bad loans to bad borrowers. Does that sound familiar? This is what happened in 2008, too. Clayton didn't just survive this, though. They played offense. So as competitors collapsed,

Clayton bought their best retail locations for pennies on the dollar. As lenders fled the industry, Clayton's financing arm grabbed more and more market share at steep discounts. By 2002, Clayton Holmes had emerged as the last man standing. Then Warren Buffett called. In 2002, Jim Clayton decided to write his memoirs. First, A Dream was the title, and it was the book that we're discussing today. He self-published it, figuring maybe a few hundred people in the industry might want to read it.

Little did he know that we'd be doing a podcast on this reaching hundreds of thousands of people. He gave copies to business schools, he handed them out of conferences, he mailed them to anyone who seemed interested. One of those copies ended up in the hands of some University of Tennessee students heading to Omaha, Nebraska, to visit Warren Buffett. They brought the book as a gift from Tennessee. According to Buffett's account at the 2003 Berkshire Hathaway Annual Meeting, he called this gift from the students an unlikely source that put Clayton Holmes on his radar.

Buffett read the book over a weekend. Shortly after, Kevin Clayton, who'd been running the company since 1999, received a voicemail that would change everything. Buffett said he'd read the book, enjoyed it, and congratulated them on taking it to the top of the industry. But there's more to this story. The manufactured housing industry in 2003 was still in crisis. Even Clayton Homes, despite being what Buffett called the premier company in the industry, faced a critical problem, access to capital. As Kevin Clayton would later explain, well, the company's balance sheet showed little debt, it lacked the enormous capacity for borrowing needed to sustain its mortgage lending and

inventory needs. About a billion dollars annually. The lending community had got burned very badly by past failures and had largely sworn off providing financing for manufactured homes. In other words, well, Clayton's loans were performing and they had no problem with Clayton, the banks weren't giving them more because of how all their competitors, behave and the consequences. The acquisition moved with remarkable speed, as Buffett stated at the Berkshire Hathaway annual meeting. A few phone calls later, we had a deal. Clayton Homes and Berkshire Hathaway entered into a merger agreement for $1.7 billion in cash. The strategic brilliance of the deal lay in Berkshire's unique ability to solve Clayton's critical capital problem.

Berkshire could do something that nobody else could do. They could hold the loans on their own balance sheet rather than sell them to other people. As Buffett explained, Berkshire would keep it in the portfolio. This was a lifeline for Clayton by providing the capital they need to Berkshire transform would have been an industry-wide liability into an unparalleled competitive advantage. Some shareholders resisted, but Jim Clayton, you own 28% of the company supported the deal. He understood this just wasn't about the price. It was about ensuring Clayton Homes at a permanent home with a parent company that would provide the capital it needed to thrive. The deal closed in August 2003. Kevin Clayton would continue a CEO under Berkshire's

ownership. Clayton began sourcing the materials from other Berkshire subsidies like Benjamin Moore and Shaw Industries carpet creating a self-reinforcing ecosystem. From that log cabin in Tennessee where the family made $8 a week, Jim Clayton had built an empire worth billions. He'd said, survive bankruptcy, multiple recessions, and industry collapses that destroyed nearly every one of his competitors. He'd taken Clayton Holmes public and sold it to Warren Buffett. Clayton Holmes grew from a single-use trailer bought for $1,200 to become the largest manufacturer for homes in America. By the time of the Berkshire acquisition, the company had provided housing for hundreds of thousands of families. Through the Clayton Family Foundation, he and his wife gave away

millions of dollars each year. The Clayton name appears on hospitals, museums, and university buildings all across Tennessee. All the proceeds from his books went to charity. The boy who chose seeds over a toy car at age 10 planted something that grew beyond his wildest dreams. From selling seeds door to door to shaking hands with Warren Buffett on a billion-dollar deal, Jim Clayton proved that a sharecropper's son could build an empire, lose it, build it again, sell it for billions, and he still showed up at 87 to play guitar

at the local opera. That's the real story. It's not just success, but survival, not just wealth, but resilience. The music never really stopped. Okay, I want to talk about some of my reflections from that incredible story. There's one part that I didn't work into the episode that I thought was really interesting. And Jim Clayton has this concept called the three A's, action, attitude, and atmosphere. Action, we have to have action in all areas of our life.

the action must be positive and plentiful. And on atmosphere, he says, of course, positive action produces positive attitudes, which produce positive atmosphere. The other thing that I didn't highlight enough, I think, in this episode, as I just reread it to you, was that Jim Clayton was always playing offense. So while his competitors worked themselves into trouble by lowering their loan standards and found themselves in hot water and they had to pull back, Jim Clayton was always moving forward.

He might not have grown as aggressively during those times by lowering his credit standards, but he was able to grow throughout the cycle. And I think that's important. We saw that with Carnegie, too. We haven't talked about that, but if you look at Carnegie, he made most of his money during the recession of the 1870s when everybody else stopped building steel plants and he kept going. He bought out his partners.

He positioned himself to take advantage of the ensuing recovery. And I think that's a key lesson that we see over and over again. John D. Rockefeller, Andrew Carnegie, Jim Clayton, they're always playing offense. They're always positioned in a way that they can play offense. Okay, I want to talk about some of the lessons that we can take away from this. We just talked about offense. That's definitely one of the lessons.

Always be playing offense. Some of the other ones that stood out to me are, if you have to swallow a frog, don't look at it for too long. When the bank demanded immediate repayment, forced Clayton Motors into bankruptcy. He could have wallowed, but by 6.30 the next morning, he's at a restaurant planning his comeback. All the time you spend complaining about what happened comes at the expense of improving where you are.

Two, choose seeds over toys. At 10, Jim Clayton sold seeds door to door. The company offered prizes, instant gratification of a toy car or more seeds to sell, keeping all the profit. Every kid chose the toy. Jim Clayton? No. He took the seeds.

That choice became his philosophy. Forgo momentary satisfaction. Plant the right seats. Three, water goes where it wants to go, and where it wants to go is where it is always gone. Clayton bought a mobile home park with a creek through it. They spent $60,000 trying to divert the water. Twice the pavement collapsed exactly where the creek used to flow.

Make your plan conform to the land, not the other way around, he learned. 4. Reality Distortion Field. During the 70s crash, Clayton Homes watched competitors fire everyone in closed locations. Clayton kept everyone employed and increased advertising. Their motto, the country is in a recession and we have elected not to participate. They grew 25% annually through the disaster. Recessions are market share redistribution events. Five, the best legal department is a satisfied customer. Clayton Homes operated for 30 years with a legal department of one. Jim Clayton, not because they couldn't afford lawyers because they didn't need them. Over 80% of legal claims originate from failure to deliver customer satisfaction. Most companies hire lawyers to fight customers.

Clayton just fix their problems. Six, turn your adversaries into your allies. State regulators caught Jim Clayton running in a legal car dealership. They would have to pay massive fines. Instead of hiring lawyers, he admitted ignorance with appropriate meekness and asked the examiner for help. Within moments, my adversary became my mentor. Seven, there's profit in precision. The mobile home industry built homes about 12 feet wide that pretty much fit together. Jim Clayton did something radical. He measured every home to the inch, while competitors built double wide half separately

and prayed they'd fit together, a process that involved a sledgehammer on site. Clayton built them as one, sod them apart, and rejoined them perfectly. Eight, bad loans are a virus. In the late 1990s, Clayton watched every competitor chase growth by loosening credit standards. Clayton held firm. This wasn't the first time they'd been through this. One by one, competitors imploded. Clayton bought their assets for pennies on the dollar. By 2002, they were the last company standing. Never interrupt your competitor when they're making a mistake. Number nine, money at every level. Everyone sold mobile homes. Jim Clayton built factories to make them, banks to finance them, parks to place them, insurance to protect

them. When the 1974 crash killed 60% of the industry, Clayton survived. They were their own supply chain. Vertical integration just isn't about efficiency. It's about becoming unkillable. 10. The last thing you should do is the first thing you feel you should do. Flying a Cessna, Jim Clayton got lost when the landmark wasn't where it should be. He abandoned his flight plan. He started chasing highways and nearly crashed running out of fuel. In business, as in flying, he says your instruments beat your instincts. 11. The 3 is Jim Clayton discovered that success runs on self-reinforcing cycle.

Positive action produces positive attitudes which produce a positive atmosphere. During the 1974 crash when competitors fired everyone, Clayton kept all the employees. Everything starts with a positive action. 12. Certain concepts are ageless no matter what year you're in. Self-discipline, willpower, perseverance, realizing the disappointment is not defeat, knowing that problems often present opportunities. Obstables get in the way, but the human spirit can triumph over these things.

Adversity breeds resilience and can build character. 13. The ignorance advantage. In his memoir, Jim wrote, If I had even the slightest idea of just how difficulty it would be, from the gut-wrenching heartaches to the hard work, to the long hours, a grueling combination every entrepreneur can identify with, I probably would have remained. made a guitar picker or maybe a seed salesman. And 14. Always play offense. Thank you for listening and learning with us. I hope you enjoyed this episode and learning about Jim Clayton

and the mobile home industry as much as I have.