work. I came to America, won Mr. Universe, and now I’m in the movies.”
I headed back to California a very happy guy. Joe Weider had promised to stake me for a year, and that time was up. But there was no question he wanted me to stay. As I became more and more successful, he kept thinking up new ways to feature me in the stories and advertisements in his magazines. He asked if I would take a tape recorder and interview the other bodybuilders. I didn’t have to write the stories, just make the tapes, and the writers would turn them into a series of articles giving readers the inside scoop. All I had to do was talk to the others about their training routines, their diet, what vitamins they took, and so on. The guys came over, and Franco cooked them a big Italian meal—paid for by Joe, of course, as were the gallons of wine we opened. After everyone was loosened up, I brought out the tape recorder. Somehow we didn’t get around to the subject of training and nutrition. First I asked, “We want to know all your girlfriends. Have you ever been out with boyfriends? What do you do when you go to bed?”
Joe’s eyes got wider and wider when we played the tape for him the next day. “Dammit! Dammit!” he exploded. “Idiots! Clowns! There’s nothing here I can use!” Franco and I were cracking up, but I promised to do the interviews again.
I started taping the bodybuilders one by one. Most bodybuilders don’t have very interesting insights or routines. But I’d noticed that Joe’s writers could make a story out of anything. So after the first few times, I’d just stop the interview if I got bored, and the tapes I gave Joe kept getting shorter and shorter. He would grumble, but he really wanted those interviews, and I would say innocently, “I can’t help it if these guys don’t have any ideas.” The last couple of interviews were like five minutes and eight minutes, and Joe finally threw up his hands. “Aw hell,” he growled. “Just give me back my machine.”
CHAPTER 7
Experts in Marble and Stone
THE MONEY JOE PAID me never went very far. I was always looking for ways to earn more. As my English got better, and I could explain how to train, I would give seminars at Gold’s and other gyms. Each netted $500.
I also launched a mail-order business out of my apartment. It grew out of the fan mail I was getting. People wanted to know how I trained my arms, my chest. And they asked how they could get fit themselves. I couldn’t answer all these letters, so in the beginning, I got the writers at the magazine to help me with standard letters that I could send out. That gave me the idea of selling a series of booklets.
In America, unlike Europe, there weren’t a million obstacles to starting a business. All I had to do was go down to city hall and pay $3.75 for a permit, and then rent a post office box to receive the orders. Next came the California Board of Equalization and the IRS. They’d ask, “How much do you think you’ll make?”
“I hope a thousand dollars a month.” So you’d pay $320 for the first estimated payment. There was no interrogation. They were kind, sweet, accommodating. When Franco and I started a bricklaying business, it was the same thing. We walked out shaking our heads, and Franco said, “This is why they call this the land of opportunity.” We were so happy.
Basically, my booklets were the articles I’d been writing for Joe, which the writers and photographers helped me flesh out by adding more details and photos. We made a booklet for arms, one for chest, one for back, one for calves and thighs, how to get a more symmetrical body, how to gain weight, how to pose, and so on—ten different courses. You could order the whole set for $15 or $20 or pick and choose for $1 or $2 each. People asked for photos of me also, so I had an album printed up of my favorite shots. Joe Weider was big in mail order, of course, but he didn’t really see his bodybuilders as competition. I talked him into giving me free advertising space in his magazines. “You can always start paying me for using me in your ads,” I said, “but I’d like it if you just give me an opportunity.” I figured Joe would go for this because he always hated to part with cash. And he agreed, and he was very supportive: he said I could start with a full-page ad that we would make into a double page if the thing really took off.
Many bodybuilders failed at mail order because they’d accept the money but not get it together to mail the product. You had to fill your orders within a certain time by law. If the post office received complaints, it would take away your post office box, and your business would be gone. You might even go to jail. But I was superefficient. I took the doors off my bedroom closet to make an alcove and had a friend build shelves and a little fold-down desk. Each booklet had its own numbered niche, and there were bins for incoming mail, checks, envelopes, and outgoing orders.
My booklets were a success. Soon I added an Arnold Schwarzenegger weight-lifting belt and other products, enough for a double-page ad. That brought in even more business. It built to the point where I could afford to hire a secretary to come in a few days a week and handle most of the mail.
I always showed Joe any ad I wrote before putting it in the magazine because he was a merchandising genius. He would pick apart my language almost word by word. “Why didn’t you write ‘fill within days’?” he’d ask. “Put that in the ad! People want to know you’re dependable. And you should say ‘This booklet is a limited edition.’ People love limited editions.”
I loved being an American entrepreneur. With mail order I was doing what Charles Atlas had done!
Soon I started another business, this time with Franco. His idea was that we should work in construction, because he’d done that in Italy and Germany, and it seemed like people would want to hire two strong guys. But when we went to the union hall, we found out it could take months to join.
I said to Franco, “Why don’t we just start our own company?” Franco knew bricklaying, and I knew business. So that’s what we did. We put an ad in the newspaper that said “European bricklayers. Experts in marble and stone.” We got our first job right away, building a wall for a guy in Venice whose house once belonged to the silent- film star Rudolph Valentino.
Franco and I had noticed that Americans loved foreign names: Swedish massage, Italian design, Chinese herbs, German ingenuity. We decided that we should highlight being European. The fact that Franco was Italian was especially good. Look at the Vatican! You can’t beat Italian architecture. I’d also noticed that Americans like to bargain a little bit and feel like they’re getting a deal—unlike Germans, who are more willing to accept the quoted price. So Franco and I had a whole routine. I’d bring a tape measure and take measurements and come up with the estimate—which was always in meters and centimeters, adding to the European mystique. Then I’d show it to Franco, and we would start arguing in German in front of the client.
The guy would ask, “What’s going on?”
“Well, I don’t have to tell you about Italians,” I’d say, rolling my eyes. “I don’t get it why he thinks this patio will cost eight thousand dollars. He wants to order
The guy would start to trust me right away. “That’s really nice that you’re trying to give me the best price.”
“Well, we want to be competitive. I’m sure you got other estimates, right?”
“Oh, yes, yes.”
“You see, Franco?” I’d say. Then we would argue some more in German, and the guy would be happy with the $7,000 deal.
We loved bricklaying and felt very productive. We also had a lot of fun. One time a woman had a competing bid for $5,000 to get her chimney replaced. That included $1,000 to demolish the old one. “A thousand dollars?” said Franco. “Let me look at this.” He climbed up on the slope of the roof, braced his back against the shingles, and did a leg press that pushed over the whole chimney. It almost landed on the woman standing below. But instead of getting mad, she was grateful. “Oh, thank you so much for helping us! This was very dangerous. It could have fallen on somebody’s head.” She not only gave us the job but let us keep the old bricks, which I then sold to another customer as “vintage bricks.”
Another customer wanted to replace a wall around his house. We had the idea that demolishing the old wall would be strenuous enough to serve as our workout that day. We rented the biggest sledgehammers we could find.
