#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • A grand vision defined: The CEO of Disney, one of Time’s most influential people of 2019, shares the ideas and values he embraced to reinvent one of the most beloved companies in the world and inspire the people who bring the magic to life.
Robert Iger became CEO of The Walt Disney Company in 2005, during a difficult time. Competition was more intense than ever and technology was changing faster than at any time in the company’s history. His vision came down to three clear ideas: Recommit to the concept that quality matters, embrace technology instead of fighting it, and think bigger—think global—and turn Disney into a stronger brand in international markets.
Fourteen years later, Disney is the largest, most respected media company in the world, counting Pixar, Marvel, Lucasfilm, and 21st Century Fox among its properties. Its value is nearly five times what it was when Iger took over, and he is recognized as one of the most innovative and successful CEOs of our era.
In The Ride of a Lifetime, Robert Iger shares the lessons he’s learned while running Disney and leading its 200,000 employees, and he explores the principles that are necessary for true leadership, including:
• Optimism. Even in the face of difficulty, an optimistic leader will find the path toward the best possible outcome and focus on that, rather than give in to pessimism and blaming.
• Courage. Leaders have to be willing to take risks and place big bets. Fear of failure destroys creativity.
• Decisiveness. All decisions, no matter how difficult, can be made on a timely basis. Indecisiveness is both wasteful and destructive to morale.
• Fairness. Treat people decently, with empathy, and be accessible to them.
This book is about the relentless curiosity that has driven Iger for forty-five years, since the day he started as the lowliest studio grunt at ABC. It’s also about thoughtfulness and respect, and a decency-over-dollars approach that has become the bedrock of every project and partnership Iger pursues, from a deep friendship with Steve Jobs in his final years to an abiding love of the Star Wars mythology.
“The ideas in this book strike me as universal” Iger writes. “Not just to the aspiring CEOs of the world, but to anyone wanting to feel less fearful, more confidently themselves, as they navigate their professional and even personal lives.”
|Publisher:||Random House Publishing Group|
|Product dimensions:||6.20(w) x 9.30(h) x 1.10(d)|
About the Author
Robert Iger is chairman and CEO of The Walt Disney Company. He previously served as president and CEO, beginning in October 2005, and was president and COO from 2000 to 2005. Iger began his career at ABC in 1974, and as chairman of the ABC Group he oversaw the broadcast television network and station group, managed the cable television properties, and guided the merger between Capital Cities/ABC, Inc., and The Walt Disney Company. Iger officially joined the Disney senior management team in 1996 as chairman of the Disney-owned ABC Group and in 1999 was given the additional responsibility of president, Walt Disney International. In that role, Iger expanded Disney’s presence outside of the United States, establishing the blueprint for the company’s international growth today.
Read an Excerpt
Starting at the Bottom
This book is not a memoir, but it’s impossible to talk about the traits that have served me well over the course of my professional life and not look back at my childhood. There are certain ways I’ve always been, things I’ve always done, that are the result of some inscrutable mix of nature and nurture. (I’ve always woken early, for example, as far back as I can remember, and cherished those hours to myself before the rest of the world wakes up.) There are other qualities and habits that are the result of purposeful decisions I made along the path. As is the case with many of us, those decisions were partially made in response to my parents, in particular my father, a brilliant and troubled man who shaped me more than anyone.
My father made me curious about the world. We had a den lined with shelves full of books, and my dad had read every one of them. I didn’t become a serious reader until I was in high school, but when I did finally fall in love with books, it was because of him. He had complete sets that he ordered from the Book of the Month Club of the works of all the American literary giants—Fitzgerald and Hemingway and Faulkner and Steinbeck and so on. I’d pull down from the shelves his copy of Tender Is the Night or For Whom the Bell Tolls or dozens of others and devour them, and he’d urge me to read even more. We also spent our dinners discussing world events, and as young as ten years old, I’d grab the New York Times on our front lawn and read it at the kitchen table before anyone else woke up.
We lived in a split-level house in a small working-class town on Long Island called Oceanside. I was the older of two kids; my sister is three years younger. My mother was warm and loving, a stay-at-home mom until I went to high school, at which point she got a job in the local junior high school library. My dad was a Navy veteran who came back from the war and played the trumpet with some “lesser” big bands, but he figured he could never make much of a living as a musician, so never tried to do it full-time. He majored in marketing at the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School, and his first job was working in marketing for a food manufacturing company, and that led him into advertising. He became an account executive at an advertising agency on Madison Avenue—he handled the Old Milwaukee and Brunswick bowling accounts—but eventually lost that job. He changed agencies several times, almost always lateral moves. By the time I was ten or eleven, he’d changed jobs so many times that I began to wonder why.
He was always deeply politically engaged and had a very strong liberal bias. He once lost a job because he was determined to go to the March on Washington and see Martin Luther King, Jr., speak. His boss wouldn’t give him the day off, but he went anyway. I don’t know if he quit and went to the speech or if he was fired for going after he’d been told he couldn’t, but it was just one of several such endings.
I was proud of his strong character and his politics. He had a fierce sense of what was right and fair, and he was always on the side of the underdog. But he also had trouble regulating his moods and would often say things that got him into trouble. I later learned that he’d been diagnosed with manic depression, and that he’d tried several therapies, including electroshock therapy, to treat his illness. As the older child, I bore the brunt of his emotional unpredictability. I never felt threatened by his moods, but I was acutely aware of his dark side and felt sad for him. We never knew which Dad was coming home at night, and I can distinctly recall sitting in my room on the second floor of our house, knowing by the sound of the way he opened and shut the door and walked up the steps whether it was happy or sad Dad.
He would sometimes check in on his way past my room to make sure I was “spending time productively,” as he put it. That meant reading or doing homework or being engaged in something that would “better” me in some way. He wanted my sister and me to have fun, but it also was very important to him that we use our time wisely and work in a focused way toward our goals. I’m certain that my vigilance (some might say obsessiveness) about time-management comes from him.
The extent to which I tend to be emotionally consistent with the people in my life, or dependable in a crisis, comes from him, too. My sister and I were never deprived of love as kids, but we were deprived of consistency. I felt early on that it was my job to be the steady center of our family, which extended even to practical matters around the house. If something broke, my mother would ask me to fix it, and I learned as a young kid how to repair whatever needed repairing. That’s part of where my curiosity about technology comes from, too, I think. I liked using tools and taking things apart and understanding how they worked.
My parents were worriers. There was a sense with both of them that something bad would soon be coming down the pike. I don’t know how much of it is a fluke of genetics and how much is a learned reaction to their anxiety, but I’ve always been the opposite of that. With few exceptions in my life, I’ve never worried too much about the future, and I’ve never had too much fear about trying something and failing.
As I grew older, I became more aware of my father’s disappointment in himself. He’d led a life that was unsatisfying to him and was a failure in his own eyes. It’s part of why he pushed us to work so hard and be productive, so that we might be successful in a way that he never was. His employment troubles necessitated that I find jobs if I wanted to have any spending money, and I started working in eighth grade, shoveling snow and babysitting and working as a stock boy in a hardware store. At fifteen, I got a job as the summer janitor in my school district. It involved cleaning every heater in every classroom, then moving on to the bottom of every desk, making sure they were gum-free when the school year started. Cleaning gum from the bottoms of a thousand desks can build character, or at least a tolerance for monotony, or something . . . .
I attended Ithaca College and spent nearly every weekend night my freshman and sophomore year making pizza at the local Pizza Hut. I got mostly B’s and a few A’s in high school, but academics was never my passion. Something clicked for me when I went to college, though. I was determined to work hard and learn as much as I could learn, and I think that, too, was related to my father—a function of both my admiration for how learned he was and a growing feeling that I never wanted to experience the same sense of failure that he felt about himself. I didn’t have a clear idea of what “success” meant, no specific vision of being wealthy or powerful, but I was determined not to live a life of disappointment. Whatever shape my life took, I told myself, there wasn’t a chance in the world that I was going to toil in frustration and lack of fulfillment.
I don’t carry much pain with me from those early years, other than the pain that my dad didn’t live a happier life, and that my mother suffered, too, as a result. I wish he could have felt prouder of himself. We always had a roof over our heads and food on the table, but there was little money for much else. Vacations were usually spent driving to mundane places in our car or going to the beach a few minutes away from our house. We had enough clothes to look presentable, but nothing extra, and when I tore a pair of pants in the fall, I was typically told to wear them with a patch until we had the money to replace them, which could be months. I never felt poor, and no one viewed me as such. Things were a lot thinner than they looked, though, and as I grew older I became aware of that.
Late in life, after I’d become CEO of Disney, I took my father to lunch in New York. We talked about his mental health and his perspective on his life. I told him how much I appreciated everything that he and my mom had done for us, the ethics they instilled, and the love they gave us. I told him that was enough, more than enough, and wished that my gratitude might liberate him in some small way from disappointment. I do know that so many of the traits that served me well in my career started with him. I hope that he understood that, too.
I started my career at ABC on July 1, 1974, as a studio supervisor for ABC Television. Before that, I’d spent a year as a weatherman and feature news reporter at a tiny cable TV station in Ithaca, New York. That year of toiling in obscurity (and performing with mediocrity) convinced me to abandon the dream I’d had since I was fifteen years old: to be a network news anchorman. I’m only half-joking when I say that the experience of giving the people of Ithaca their daily weather report taught me a necessary skill, which is the ability to deliver bad news. For roughly six months of the year, the long bleak stretch from October through April, I was far from the most popular guy in town.
I came to ABC thanks to my uncle Bob’s bad eyesight. My mother’s brother, whom I adored, spent a few days in a Manhattan hospital after eye surgery, and his roommate was a lower-level ABC executive, who for whatever reasons wanted my uncle to believe he was a big network mogul. He would fake taking phone calls in his hospital bed, as if there were important network decisions that only he could make, and my uncle fell for it. Before he was discharged, my uncle mentioned to his roommate that his nephew was looking for a job in television production in New York. The guy gave him his number and said, “Tell your nephew to give me a call.”
He was surprised and a little confused about who I was when I actually followed through. Based on what my uncle had described, I was expecting a powerful network executive whose influence was felt at the highest reaches of the company. He was far from that, but to his credit, he did manage to get me an interview in the small department he ran at the network, Production Services, and not long after that I was hired on as a studio supervisor.
The position paid $150 per week and was about as low as you could go on the ABC ladder. There were a half dozen of us who did all manner of menial labor, on game shows and soap operas and talk shows and news shows and made-for-TV specials—basically anything produced at ABC’s sprawling Manhattan studios. I was assigned to a whole gamut of programming: All My Children and One Life to Live and Ryan’s Hope, The $10,000 Pyramid and The Money Maze and Showdown. The Dick Cavett Show. Geraldo Rivera’s Good Night America. The ABC Evening News with Harry Reasoner.
The job description was pretty simple: Show up whenever they needed me, for whatever task. Often that meant being at a studio at 4:30 a.m. for “lighting calls.” Soap opera sets were set up the night before a shoot, and my job was to let in the lighting director and stagehands long before the sun came up, so the lights would be in place when the director and actors arrived for their first run-throughs. I coordinated all the carpenters and prop masters and electricians, makeup artists and costume people and hairstylists, checking everybody in and making sure they had their marching orders for the day. I kept track of their hours and their grievances and their violations of union rules. I made sure catering was in place and the air-conditioning had cooled the studios enough to begin shooting under the hot lights. It was the opposite of glamorous, but I learned the ins and outs of all of those shows. I spoke the lingo. I got to know all of the people who made a TV show work. Maybe most important, I learned to tolerate the demanding hours and the extreme workload of television production, and that work ethic has stayed with me ever since.
To this day, I wake nearly every morning at four-fifteen, though now I do it for selfish reasons: to have time to think and read and exercise before the demands of the day take over. Those hours aren’t for everyone, but however you find the time, it’s vital to create space in each day to let your thoughts wander beyond your immediate job responsibilities, to turn things over in your mind in a less pressured, more creative way than is possible once the daily triage kicks in. I’ve come to cherish that time alone each morning, and am certain I’d be less productive and less creative in my work if I didn’t also spend those first hours away from the emails and text messages and phone calls that require so much attention as the day goes on.
It was a very different industry back then. In some ways it was better. The competition was simpler, the world less atomized. Certainly there was a mostly shared American narrative, organized around a general societal belief in basic facts. In many other ways, though, it was worse. For one, there was a shrugging tolerance of a level of disrespect that would be unacceptable today. It was without a doubt much more difficult on a day-to-day basis for women and members of underrepresented groups than it ever was for me. But even in my case, being low on the food chain meant exposure to the occasional, casual abuse that people would be fired for now.
One example that captures so much of that time: The Evening News was broadcast at 6:00 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. The moment we wrapped, the anchorman Harry Reasoner and his stage manager, a man called Whitey, would walk off the set and park themselves at the bar of the Hotel des Artistes on West Sixty-seventh Street. (The Evening News was broadcast from a converted ballroom in the old hotel.) Every evening, Harry would down a double extra-dry Beefeater Martini on the rocks with a twist.
Table of Contents
Part 1 Learning
Chapter 1 Starting at the Bottom 3
Chapter 2 Betting on Talent 23
Chapter 3 Know What You Don't Know (and Trust in What You Do) 36
Chapter 4 Enter Disney 50
Chapter 5 Second in Line 66
Chapter 6 Good Things Can Happen 79
Chapter 7 It's About the Future 98
Part 2 Leading
Chapter 8 The Power of Respect 115
Chapter 9 Disney-Pixar and a New Path to the Future 127
Chapter 10 Marvel and Massive Risks That Make Perfect Sense 151
Chapter 11 Star Wars 173
Chapter 12 If You Don't Innovate, You Die 189
Chapter 13 No Price on Integrity 203
Chapter 14 Core Values 215
Appendix: Lessons to Lead By 225
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Before reading The Ride of a Lifetime I genuinely did not like Bob Iger. To me he represented a major and undesirable shift away from organically created Disney IP’s to a business model primarily focused on acquiring the creative output of non-Disney artists and studios. I especially disliked the dilution of the Disney brand in the parks, mixing Marvel, Star Wars, Disney and Pixar attractions right alongside one another (removing G rated Bugs Land and replacing with PG-13 Marvel is especially upsetting). But after reading his book I get it, and I actually really like and respect Bob Iger now. I still don’t like what’s happened to the Disney brand, but in a world of be the big fish or be swallowed I understand why he made the decisions he needed to make. At the onset of the book he points out this isn’t a memoir, but rather to share a set of important lessons he has learned over the course of his career. To that end some of the lessons are very insightful, interesting and likely helpful to anyone in a leadership position. But it’s the details behind his ascension to CEO and the acquisitions of Pixar, Marvel and Star Wars that makes this book a real page turner. I couldn’t put it down and finished the book over the course of a day and evening, thoroughly enjoying every moment of it. I had read Disney War by James Stewart and found it to be incredibly long-winded and boring. Bob’s book cuts through that time with incredible clarity, presenting the players and personalities as-is with seemingly no bias in one direction or another. There is a question at the end exclusive to the B&N edition that I wish an entire chapter was devoted to answering: What do you think would have happened to Disney if you hadn’t shifted the way you do business? His answer is Disney would have become “marginalized“ (synonym is insignificant) and “vulnerable.” I would love to have a heard from him what his specific concerns were if the acquisitions would have stopped with Pixar. Who would have likely purchased Marvel and Star Wars, and what specific impact would that have had to the the Disney parks and movies? The Tokyo Disney parks are an excellent example of sort of freezing in time, with all of their future expansions based on traditional Disney, and they appear to be doing very well. Would another company have ultimately ended up purchasing Disney without Marvel and Star Wars? Would attendance at the parks dropped off significantly? And does Bob believe the newly acquired IPs will instill the same fierce customer loyalty and repeat visits to the parks, or will these new guests in the parks be one or two visits and done? There is obviously no going back, but again I would have loved hearing more from him on why he believed his changes were ultimately in the best interests of the company, and some potential scenarios might have played out if he had not made them. Also did Disney leadership consider creating an entirely new park dedicated to Marvel and Star Wars? If they did what locations did they consider and what was the reason for not doing so? I hope we get the answer to these questions and many more in a forthcoming memoirs book.
Great dive into the acquisitions and the evolution of the organization.
Robert Iger is a great story-teller, & he tells his story of leadership with great candor & transparency! Highly recommended!
"True authority and true leadership come from knowing who you are and not pretending to be anything else. Robert Iger, Bob as everyone calls him, is the CEO of one of the largest corporations in the world. As the head of the Walt Disney Company, he has the unenviable task of honoring the legacy of the famed company's founder while keeping it relevant and profitable in modern times. The way in which entertainment is created and consumed is drastically different from dear old Walt's days. In his book The Ride of a Lifetime, Iger writes about his journey from starting at the bottom of ABC to becoming the head of the Disney company at a time when it was in a state of turmoil. Iger presents his managerial advice through a chronological look back at his remarkable career. He started as a studio grunt at ABC nearly 45 years ago. His undying curiosity combined with a willful work ethic to help him start to climb the ranks of the company. Iger credits the mentorship of his bosses during that time for not only teaching him aspects of the business but showing him the qualities needed to be a leader. After cutting his teeth in the sports section of the network, bosses took a chance on him and thrust him into the role of head of prime time. Thrust into a role he really didn't know about, Iger learned to admit what he didn't know and be gracious to the people who could teach him. It seems that those early years really prepared Iger for taking on the job of running Disney. At the time he took over, Michael Eisner's tenure was coming to a tumultuous close. The company was floundering creatively and suffering financially because of it. Most alarming, Walt Disney Animation the once bright spot on which the company was grown, was completely out of touch with what made it special. Iger turned to an unlikely partnership with Steve Job's Pixar to reinvigorate the culture of creativity at the company. In an unprecedented move, Disney purchased Pixar and brought in their leadership to help rebuild Walt Disney Animation. This move not only breathed new life into the company, but foreshadowed the bold move of acquiring Marvel, Lucasfilm, and 20th Century Fox. In The Ride of a Lifetime, Bob Iger reflects back on his remarkable professional triumphs and challenges with refreshing candor that really draws you in. Yes, he runs one of the largest media conglomerates in the world, but he seems so genuine and down to earth in how he deals with his people. I especially related to the way he owns what he knows and doesn't know, never "bossing" the people who are more knowledgeable than he is. The book works as both a concise managerial thesis and a compelling memoir, the kind of read that will reveal different layers to different readers. I highly recommend it to those in leadership positions and casual Disney fans alike.