Perhaps, it is merely because I grew up on the classic releases from this company—competing at Monopoly, Careers, Clue, Sorry, and Rook, only discovering Milles Bornes, Pit, Risk, and Masterpiece later in life, that I loved this book, but I found Philip E. Orbanes’ The Game Makers to be insightful, intriguing, and both evocative of laughter and bittersweet reminiscences. As a writer who covered the game field and actually visited those offices in Beverly (built after the General Mills merger), MA on one occasion (a building filled with amazing nostalgia worked right into the design), I found myself agreeing with his analysis of the poor management era within the company and only lamenting the fact that it dealt with the sale of the interactive properties to Infogrammes so tersely. It was an interesting story that was lost in the “bigger picture” of the Hasbro years. Indeed, the Hasbro portion of the story feels more like an appendix or epilogue than the style of the rest of the book. But only that portion of the book seemed in the least less than it could be.
It was encouraging to read about the 19th century origins of the company with which (much later) I was once associated (via the Hasbro connection). I loved discovering that George S. Parker was an avid game player, even in the “Red Room” of his boyhood home where he developed Banking as his first game and playtested it with his friends (p. 3) and how loyal he was to friends like Joseph Dyer (Parker Brothers’ second employee—p. 9). I was most impressed with the way Parker condensed his business approaches to “rules” in the same way he wrote game rules (pp. 10-11).
1. Know your goal and reach for it.
2. Finding “winning moves.”
3. Play by the rules, but capitalize on them.
4. Learn from failure; build upon success.
5. When faced with a choice, make the move with the most potential benefit versus risk.
6. When luck runs against you, hold emotion in check and set up for your next advance.
7. Never hesitate and given your opponents a second chance.
8. Seek help if the game threatens to overwhelm you.
9. Bet heavily when the odds are long in your favor.
10. If opportunity narrows, focus on your strengths.
11. Be a gracious winner or loser. Don’t be petty. Share what you learn.
12. Ignore principles 1 to 11 at your peril.
What was really intriguing about the book was the way that Orbanes (who became part of Parker Brothers in 1979 after working for the Mousetrap people at Ideal Toy Company) managed to weave these principles throughout first the company history surrounding George S. Parker, second, around the portion of the history surrounding his son-in-law, Robert Barton, and finally, throughout the era of corporate ownership. I found it ironic that Orbanes’ company, Winning Moves, that publishes some of the classic games today (Pit, Milles Bornes, and Flinch) derives it’s name from George’s second principle ( p. 217). I loved the implementation of #6 during World War I when Orbanes used the Backgammon analogy of a back game (setting up defensively because your opponent has a lead and you need to stall until you find an opening to catch up and win) to describe Parker’s approach to his private recovery from the death of his sons and his public approach to rebuilding the company during the harsh times following World War I (not a boom time like the era following WWII). Orbanes notes that it takes lots of skill and self-restraint to play a “back game” (p. 52). During this period, one of the pleasant surprises was the ongoing strength of Rook sales. The discussion of this Bridge game using colored playing cards in a 1-14 sequence confirmed my boyhood suspicions that it was designed primarily for people who believed that traditional playing cards were “of the devil.” Orbanes quotes the sales pitch that it was now “safe” to play whist and bridge (p. 56). I liked the observation of how a pacifist (and later, isolationist) like Parker published games based on the “Great European War” even though it went against his personal ideals. Orbanes states, “George did not believe in fighting trends in the marketplace, even if they ran counter to his personal beliefs or tastes.” (p. 61) And, I was amazed at how one of the key elements in pulling Parker Brothers out of the doldrums was importing Mah-Jongg sets (The original collator of the rules and later, Parker Brothers added the second “g” for trademark reasons (p. 67).
I enjoyed how Rule #7 played into the Monopoly story (probably the longest single section of the book, but understandable in terms of the importance of the franchise to the company and to the fact that Orbanes wrote an entire book around the history and playing of this iconic game). Apparently, remembering how games with similar themes and mechanics (“table tennis” to “ping-pong” and variants of “mah jong” to “mah jongg”) had taken market share from Parker Brothers products over the years, Robert Barton took no chances with Monopoly, not only paying a lump sum to Ms. Magpie for her patent to The Landlord’s Game, but buying out games like Finance (developed by an executive of Knapp Electric and purchased (just to kill it) for $750—p. 97) and Inflation (by a Texan named Rudy Copeland –p. 103) because they were too similar (though the company later licensed the mechanics to competitor Milton Bradley for Easy Money (p. 102) and the name for Anti-Monopoly as a way of settling out-of-court with Berkeley professor Ralph Anspach (p. 170).
Those who haven’t read Orbane’s book on Monopoly may be surprised to discover that the Monopoly” Man (we always called him the “Monopoly Guy”) was named Rich Uncle Pennybags until 1999 when he was renamed Mr. Monopoly and had an entire family, including his wife, Marge, his friend Jake the Jailbird, and his nephews, Randy, Sandy, and Andy Pennybags (p. 122). Of course, even more surprising is finding out that Parker Brothers’ UK licensee (Waddington’s) manufactured special Monopoly boards in which the Red Cross smuggled silk maps, compasses, and files hidden under the board itself into P.O.W. camps in order to help them escape (p. 113).
Further, I liked the idea of “Share what you learn.” This was found in George’s Rule #11. I like it because I see the best years in the development of an industry taking place when even competitors share what they’ve learned. The rising tide of increasing knowledge floats all boats. But today’s era of patent trolls works against that. Indeed, one could argue that the entire philosophy of the patent process works against that. In the history of board games, it wasn’t the patent problem that worked against the competitors who wouldn’t share information. It was when General Mills shipped off all of the molding machines from Taunton, MA to a location in Mexico as a cost-cutting decision. Naturally, the workforce in Mexico wasn’t trained and wasn’t nearly as flexible as the U.S. workforce, so the move actually ended up costing the company and putting it tremendously behind instead of helping reduce costs (p. 192).
And Orbanes introduces the reader to the kind of executives who reach positions of power and cause me to ask how they ever could do so. The villains in Orbanes’ story are Jim Fifeld who apparently insisted on pretending that the 1983 cartridge crash wasn’t happening (p. 182) and Lawrence Bernstein (p. 207 – an extremely unlikeable man who was allegedly subject to ruthless outbursts in public and didn’t trust anyone other than people who agreed with him). How many times have I run into this kind of executive in my years covering the game industry.
This may well be one of the most valuable resources in my personal library. I am thrilled to have finally read it (more than the bits and pieces used in other research) and plan to give it a place of honor on my game shelf.