But upon reaching London, Franklin found that Keith had not furnished these letters. Franklin spent the next two years earning enough money to simply sail back to America. On his return voyage, Franklin again displayed his networking virtuosity: His first job, back in Philadelphia, was as a clerk in the store of Thomas Denham, a fellow passenger on his trans-Atlantic voyage.

Before long, Franklin was back in the print trade, employed in the same established print shop as before. In the interest of intellectual stimulation and his own self-advancement, Franklin organized a dozen of his friends into a Friday night social group called the "Junto"—described, as follows, in The Autobiography.

The rules that I drew up required that every member, in his turn, should produce one or more queries on any point of Morals, Politics, or Natural Philosophy [physics], to be discuss'd by the company; and once in three months produce and read an essay of his own writing, on any subject he pleased.

The members of the Junto were young men not yet respectable or established enough to break into the clubs that served Philadelphia's business elite. Like Franklin, they were tradesmen, common people. No doubt about it—the man loved clubs. Indeed, in addition to its lessons of thrift, industry, and prudence, Franklin's autobiography tells us every man should be part of a social group, if not three. He believed that a group of like-minded, achievementoriented individuals could dramatically leverage each other's success to do things otherwise impossible.

N o w flash those calendars f o r w a r d , if you can, to 1 7 3 1 . Franklin, having earned enough to start his own print shop, invested in a small failing newspaper, the Pennsylvania Gazette. Through snappy content and graphics (much of it written or drawn by Franklin himself) and daring distribution, Franklin turned the Gazette into a profitable vehicle with the largest circulation in the colonies. The newspaper's prosperity transformed Franklin into an eighteenth-centurymediamagnate.Franklingainedenough renown—and money—to apply himself to public projects, the first of which was the establishment of the Library Company of Philadelphia, the first circulating library in North America (still in existence).

It was the library campaign—the first of Franklin's several public projects for Philadelphia—that gave Franklin a deep insight into one of the crown virtues of networking. The resistance he encountered, he tells us:

[M]ade me soon feel the Impropriety of presenting one's self as the Proposer of any useful Project that might be suppos'd to raise one's Reputation in the smallest degree above that of one's Neighbors, when one has need of their Assistance to accomplish that Project. I therefore put my self as much as I could out of sight, and stated it as a Scheme of a Number of Friends, w h o had requested me to go about and propose it to such as they thought Lovers of Reading. In this w a y my Affair went on more smoothly, and I ever after practis'd it on such Occasions.

A n d , oh, would there be "Occasions." Following the library in 1731—for which the Junto helped Franklin find his first fifty subscribers—there came Philadelphia's city watch (1735); its first fire company ( 1 7 3 6 ) ; its first college, which would two years later become the University of Pennsylvania ( 1 7 4 9 ) ; its first—and also the colonies' first hospital, through a mixture of public and private funding ( 1 7 5 1 ) ; and its first fire insurance company (1751). Franklin also organized Pennsylvania's first volunteer militia (1 747) and introduced a program of paving, lighting, and cleaning Philadelphia's streets (1756). Each project depended upon the assistance of Franklin's network of personal and professional connections, and with each project his network grew, along with his reputation as a doer of g o o d .

Franklin died in April 1 7 9 0 , about one year into George Washington's first term. More than 2 0 , 0 0 0 Americans attended his funeral.

With networking, as in so much else, we follow a trail that Franklin blazed. From him we also learn the value of modesty and the power of teamwork—beginning first with a group of young tradesmen that he brought together in his Junto and ending with the powerful men who hammered out the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States.

28. Never Give in to Hubris

In my Ph.D. section on connecting, I tried to impart some of the lessons I've learned as someone known as a master at connecting with people. But I'd be remiss if I didn't tell one short, embarrassing story that taught me early on what may be the most important lesson of all.

It is a cautionary tale about what not to do and how not to act. The pursuit of a powerful network of friends is not in and of itself a bad thing. But the closer you get to powerful people, the more powerful you tend to feel. There is a point where your reaching out to others will pick up momentum; one powerful contact will lead to another and then to the next. It can be a very fun and motivating and important ride.

Don't let a little vanity seep into your actions or excite more expectations or create a deeper sense of entitlement. Don't get your Ph.D. in master connecting, and then, for some reason, forget all the classes and values that were your foundation.

Everyone fails in life. What will you do when the phone calls that were once returned immediately now don't even get a response?

When I ran for City Council of New Haven as a sophomore against a fellow classmate, the idea of a kid running for local government made a special-interest news item. It wasn't long before a reporter from the New York Times showed up to write an article. Little did I know then that that one Times article would provide me with one of the more painful and useful lessons of my life. For I had angered William F. Buckley Jr., the famous Yale alum known for founding the conservative magazine National Review and authoring dozens of books.

I ran for office as a Republican. The Republicans needed a candidate, and at Yale, they were the minority as opposed to the many limousine liberals who seemed to a steelworking kid from Pittsburgh insincere and unthinking. Anyway, I was a youngster, and I was still exploring my political sensibilities. I probably also had a certain affinity for the traditionalism of the moderate conservative party on campus called the Tories and a real fondness for their parties and the commitment of their leadership and alumni.

But this story is not about politics. It's about pride and ego. Back then, I hadn't yet realized that my upbringing could be a well of strength rather than weakness. Insecurity drove me to act in ways I wish I hadn't. My leadership style, for instance, was far from inclusive. While I was racking up accomplishments, my sheer will and ambition alienated a lot of people. I trumpeted my awards and failed to recognize those who had helped make them possible. Too much hubris and not enough humility, as my dad might say, though not in so many words.

I was showing all those kids whom I had caddied for back at the club that I was just as good as they were.

I lost the election, as you know, but the New York Times article had been read by quite a number of people, and by a few who thought being a Republican at Yale was a good thing. In my mailbox, weeks after the election, I received a short note.

"So happy to see that there is at least one Republican at Yale. Come see me sometime. WFB."

William F. Buckley Jr. had taken the time to write me\ I was floored. I became an instant celebrity in our small circle.