The name Marriott is an icon in the hotel business, but the company's current CEO—and son of the founder—got his start in the Navy, as officer-in-charge of the ship's geedunk. Here's what then-Lieutenant (junior grade) Bill Marriott learned from two years on active duty.
The Korean War had just begun when I entered the University of Utah in the fall of 1950. With the draft, military service was all but inevitable. Growing up so close to Annapolis, I'd acquired an attachment to the Navy, so I signed up for NROTC.
When I was commissioned in 1954, I opted for the Supply Corps. My father, J. Willard Marriott, was rapidly expanding our Hot Shoppes restaurant chain and was about to branch into the motel business. I figured that becoming a supply officer would give me something to build on. It certainly did.
In many ways, being a Navy supply officer was the perfect entry-level job for me. After Supply Corps School in Athens, Georgia, I was ordered to the USS Randolph (CVA-15), a World War II-era Essex-class carrier. I picked her up in the Mediterranean and was assigned as ship's services officer. For those who don't know what a ship's services officer does, here's a short list: You run the barbershop, cobbler shop, ship's laundry and dry cleaning, and a geedunk—a canteen and snack bar where Sailors can buy junk food, soft drinks and, above all, ice cream.
Of course, overseeing the ship's store was by far the biggest job on that list. It meant that you had to deal with vendors in every port, purchasing merchandise such as Wedgwood China and Pringle cashmere sweaters that Sailors could buy and bring home to their wives and girlfriends. You had to develop a sense for quality and acquire some good negotiating skills.
Luckily, I had Chief Petty Officer Grant Styles, a veteran storekeeper's chief, to rely on. Chief Styles had seen battle in World War II, and he also knew the ropes when it came to dealing with the crew—our customers. I quickly found that the chief could do almost everything. And I learned a lot from him during those months. If you're a brand new ensign you need a lot of help. I certainly did.
Nine months later they put me in charge of the wardroom mess and billeting. The wardroom on board the Randolph provided three meals a day for several hundred officers, all of whom had high expectations about what they should be eating and how it should be presented.
Dealing with the ship's cooks was a real challenge. My first encounter with them was in the Battle of the Meat Loaf. Our cooks were a bunch of World War II veterans. They wanted to cook the way they wanted to cook, and their meat loaf was, well, terrible. I got out an old Hot Shoppes recipe, but they wouldn't follow it. When I tried to pull rank on them, the meat loaf only got worse. It went on for months, and eventually I put the family recipe back into my sea bag.
My first brush with the officers ended more happily. The flight crews usually came off line at 1500, and the wardroom was closed, so many of them kept trying to crash it. When I complained, the aviators invited me up on deck to show me what they went through. When a plane strayed slightly off the glide-path, I dove over the side into the protective netting.
That was all the convincing I needed. From then on, the wardroom opened when the planes began landing, and we had hot food ready when the pilots arrived. I wasn't about to apply for flight school, but I was going to have the food ready for the fliers. I've had a deep appreciation ever since for all who wear wings.
After two years on active duty, I left the Navy in 1956 to help run the family business. But I'd learned a lot that I've applied throughout my career.
First was how important it is to have respect for the people who serve under you. I had some very difficult senior officers during the time I spent on active duty, including one who didn't know what he was doing and was overly demanding, unfair, and impossible to work for. I vowed never to follow his example.
Second, I learned the value of asking good questions. The officers and petty officers whom I admired were never afraid to ask how you were doing. It gave them a chance to check on you without seeming confrontational, and to keep up on what was going on in the areas for which they were responsible. I have tried to follow their example.
I've served as an executive at Marriott since 1956, became President in 1964, and CEO in 1972, but the lessons from my two years on active-duty—and six months in the Naval Reserve—have stayed with me through my adult life.
I loved being at sea. I often spend vacations on cruise ships when I really need to relax. Brief as it was, my Navy experience has carried over in many large and small ways. I still shine my shoes every day. And I've been a director of the Naval Academy Foundation for more than a decade. I wanted to give something back.