A story of a Russian Jewish immigrant who moved from a ghetto on New York’s east side to a penthouse office in Rockefeller Center. (Are you listening Donald Trump?)
David Sarnoff started as an office boy for the American Marconi Company. When that company was swallowed up by Radio Corporation of America (RCA), they got Sarnoff as well and he was to lead RCA and its subsidiary NBC for decades.
Sarnoff was truly one of the founding fathers of modern consumer electronics and home entertainment. He was one of the first to identify radio for its broadcasting capabilities, rather than as a point to point messaging service. He conceived of the first broadcast network (NBC) and managed RCA to a leadership position first in the introduction of television and later color television. He was someone who was willing to overlook short term profits in favor of building an industry-leading long-term business, something that is woefully lacking in current day corporate America.
The “General” title comes from his work during World War II. Stationed in England he built the communications system that would be used by the Allies during the D-Day invasion. But the title also represents another characteristic of Sarnoff. He was seemingly not a greedy man, but he constantly sought adulation. He lobbied for years, all the way up to Dwight Eisenhower, to be named a two-star general. This guy wasn’t building private mansions in the Caribbean, but he was putting all the money into public relations, building his image and legacy.
Sarnoff was an incurable workaholic. This book has little to say about his private life. It seems to suggest that he barely had one. He was married, apparently happily, to the same woman throughout his adult life. And there is brief mention of the fact that he had three boys. The subject comes up only within the context of Sarnoff acknowledging that he was a pretty crappy father. His oldest son eventually emerges as part of the story, but only after he has himself become a senior executive at RCA.
Do you get to know Sarnoff by reading this biography? Barely. About as much as you might know a guy on the upper floors of your office building who you occasionally greet on the elevator. I found this book in a rather obscure corner of my public library. It’s from 1986. If you find a copy you might have to dust it off.