The Failure That Spawned 400 Years of Success
by Drew Holmes
Not long ago I saw a public service announcement on television featuring a young boy playing baseball by himself. While standing in the batter’s box, he proudly declared to all the world “I am the greatest hitter of all time!”, threw the ball straight up, and swung, missing completely. Twice more he did this, with the same outcome each time. Dejected, he frowned and stared down at his feet.
Suddenly his face lit up as he had an epiphany and declared “I’m the greatest pitcher in the world!”
Failures are sometimes successes when viewed from a different perspective.
In 1618 a young alchemist in Constantinople was employed as a metalsmith at the Court of the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire. He was trying, as alchemists do, to make gold. His alloy of silver, copper, and tin did not result in gold, but instead created a sheet of metal that, when struck, made musical sounds without cracking or shattering. This material was not valuable as a precious metal, but it was ideal for making cymbals.
In 1623 the Sultan granted him permission to move out of the palace and start his own company. The company supplied cymbals to the mehter (Ottoman military bands) who used them in battle to strike fear in the hearts of their enemies. Eventually the business expanded and made cymbals for a wide range of uses, everything from church services to belly dancing.
Over the centuries, the family continued to manufacture cymbals, handing down the secret formula for the unique alloy from one generation to the next. In 1929 the company moved to America where the cymbals found a wider audience with jazz drummers like Gene Krupa. Later business exploded when a young drummer named Ringo Starr used the cymbals in the Beatles performance on the Ed Sullivan Show. The company was well on its way to becoming the globally respected brand it is today.
Looking back on my personal failures I immediately thought of one of the greatest disappointments from my high school career: not gaining acceptance to Princeton University. In the months after submitting my application and before receiving the admission committee’s decision, I had allowed myself to imagine what life would be like attending such a prestigious university. I was confident that was my path, but it was not to be. Dejected, I was uncertain of what the future would hold.
Instead of Princeton, I attended a different New Jersey school, Drew University. There I made the connections that started me on my career as an orchestra librarian. There I made lifelong friends. There I met Jamie. Looking back at all that has happened since the rejection letter appeared in my mailbox, I can confidently say that not getting into Princeton was one of the best things that ever happened to me.
Our young alchemist could have taken his failure as final, a sign that metallurgy was not his calling. Fortunately, he saw not obstacle but opportunity. Instead of discarding his alloy because it was not gold, he found the perfect use for it and made something even more valuable. Today his cymbals are found on every major stage in the world and are played by countless artists, including Steve Gadd, Lars Ulrich, and Max Weinberg.
While the alchemist’s first name, Avedis, may not be familiar, the legendary family name granted him by Sultan Osman II has rung out for almost 400 years. Zildjian.