At 49, Charles Bukowski was a drunk, broke, no-name writer who scraped by working as a postman in Los Angeles.
At 59, he was one of the most famous writers and poets in the world with dozens of books in circulation and something like $4 million to his name.
Bukowski’s luck can be attributed to one man.
*In walks John Martin*
John Martin was an entrepreneur first and a reader second.
While he spent a large chunk of his career building a forty-person office supply business in Los Angeles, he amassed a vast library of books to satisfy his voracious appetite.
One day, while thumbing through an indie magazine, Martin stumbled upon an obscure Los Angeles-based poet and writer by the name of Charles Bukowski.
Bukowski wrote entirely about drinking, fucking and surviving the slums of Los Angeles, but he did so in such a poetic way that each sentence read like a bump of cocaine.
Working that 9 to 5.
When Martin discovered Bukowski, he was working at a post office where he had every intention of retiring.
He’d work his day job from 9 to 5. Clock out. Pick up a six-pack on his way home and then spend the rest of the night drinking and writing.
Martin was convinced that if Bukowski went all-in on writing, he could build one hell of a publishing house around the writer.
A rendezvous at a diner.
One day, the pair met at a diner. Martin pulled out a pen and a piece of paper. He asked Bukowski how much he would need to pay him, each month, to quit the post office and write full-time.
Bukowski began listing off his monthly expenses…
Cigarettes… $5
Rent… $45 (remember this was 1965…)
Liquor… $10
Food… $20
Child support… $20
By the time Bukowski was through, his expenses added up to around $100/ month. Martin agreed to cover Bukowski’s monthly nut. So long as the writer put in his two weeks at the post office and started writing full time.
Martin made a sacrifice.
Martin was so certain of Bukowski, he sold his collection of D.H. Lawrence first editions to raise $50,000 to fund a publishing house created with the sole intention of bringing the obscure poet’s work to the masses.
Three weeks after they struck up their deal, Bukowski dropped his very first novel on Martin’s desk. It was titled...
The Post Office
This book went on to sell 1 million copies.
As Bukowski scribbled away, Martin handled the editing, the design, the layout, the printing, the distribution, the marketing—everything.
With Martin by his side, Bukowski quickly turned into one of the hottest writers in the world, making what today would be the equivalent of $2 million per year (much of which he blew on alcohol, women and horses).
Of all the interviews I’ve read and heard of John Martin, here’s a line that has always stood out to me…
“I believed in him as much as he believed in himself.”
John Martin is a lesson in taste, hustle and unwavering belief.