Henry Sy: Traveling made up for what I missed in school

WHEN Henry Sy went to the Philippines he had nothing but the shirt on his back. He was a 12-year-old boy who spoke no English or Filipino. Unlike most immigrants then who came with a group, he travelled alone. Henry would often recount what his FilipinoChinese mother, Tan O Sia, told him on the day of his departure — “Don’t look back.”

As soon as the boat docked in Manila, Henry started working in the sarisari store his father owned in Quiapo. In the evenings, the counter top would be cleared of all the merchandise to serve as his makeshift bed. Every day, he saw his father wake up before dawn and carry the goods he purchased from Divisoria to their store in his bare feet. It was then that he learned the value of discipline, hard work, and good credit.

As a young boy, he sold cigarettes he bought by the carton from the American GIs at the corner of Plaza Miranda. He would earn a few centavos from each pack — and use it to buy second-hand books for school. The family had no extra cash to spare. Despite the economic difficulties, he worked hard and completed his elementary education within five years.

As a teenager, he would usually climb the top of their roof to stargaze, and dream of bigger things. He was determined to make something of himself. He didn’t mind the long hours at work. He was used to manning the store right after school, even on weekends and holidays. From a very young age, he held fast to a simple way of life where one works for what one gets.

This was a lesson he was determined to teach his children. In fact, even when they were already well off, and his children asked him for a billiard table, he asked them to do a tie-die project at home and sell them at SM. Hans Sy recalled — “We got about 25 centavos for each shirt we sold. But at the end, we pooled all our money and bought a billiard table.”

Henry Sy would often remind the youth — there is no such thing as overnight success or easy money. Before becoming Philippines’ richest man, he sold cigarettes, scrap metal, and odd merchandise. It took him several years to pool his capital for Shoemart.

When he first met his mentor — Don Vicente Rufino — his shoes had holes and his clothes were old. But Don Rufino did not look down on him and agreed to lease him a property on Calle Carriedo. For many years, that stall would serve as Henry’s store by day and home by night. It was the start of Shoemart, now the Philippines’ biggest mall chain.

While the business proved to be a success, running two stores took all of his time that Henry was forced to give up school. He did not finish his fouryear course in college and settled on getting a two-year associate degree in Commercial Science. But his undivided attention propelled him to new heights. In 1949, after about 12 years, he secured his first credit line from Chinabank, a company he now owns.

He would often say his travels made up for what he missed in school. To him, it was his “social university.” In seeing the world, he saw a place of infinite possibility. There was no limit to what can be done.

Eighty-one years ago, Henry Sy only had 10 centavos in his pocket. He could not afford to eat thrice a day. Now, he is the Chairman Emeritus of SM Investments, one of Philippines’ largest conglomerates.

Indeed, the greatest things have the smallest beginnings.