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For the past 35 years, I have had the pleasure, honor and good fortune to sit at the feet of Earl Pertnoy.

Over the years, we spent hours talking about business, family, children, money, sales, real estate, the Internet, e-mail, ethics, marriage, friendships and choices to be made. I always took notes. His manner was straightforward, pragmatic and very accurate.

When I first knew him, I was traveling around the United States with my young family, going from city to city doing consulting. I called him, bragging that I was making five grand a week. After the fifth call, he said, “Hey, Mr. Big Shot, you’re traveling here and there making five grand; wanna make a million? Stand still.” So I did, and I did.

Often he would drive me around Miami Beach and show me the locations of his clothing stores – all the while telling me business stories that ranged from starting early and staying late, to guarding against employee theft. Sales stories and stories of the struggle to succeed.

He was well-known and well-loved. Not just by family, but by community. He was involved and generous with time and contribution. And mostly without fanfare or notoriety.

Whether playing golf with Jackie Gleason, having a cocktail with Sammy Davis Jr. or greeting a doorman at a hotel, Earl was always humble in the presence of others.

We exchanged ideas. I would tell him about my experiences – and he would offer his insight. And he did it without measuring and without the expectation of anything in return. Except friendship.

We always talked a little about money – but never his money. I never had a money motive when I spoke with him. No need to. I was interested in his wisdom.

Yesterday I got a call from his daughter telling me that Earl was taken to the hospital, and was not expected to live more than a week. Whatever I had planned for the day seemed small by comparison to the fact that my friend was dying.

Within an hour I was at the airport and boarding a plane. I arrived four hours after I received the call. Twenty people were already there. Sons, daughters, grandchildren and assorted close friends.

Earl was sleeping with all kinds of needles and tubes in him. I was encouraged to wake him, but I chose to wait. After a half hour, a doctor came in and woke him. He looked at me and said, “What are you doin’ here?” “I was in the neighborhood, and just stopped by to say hello,” I stammered. He smiled weakly.

He fell back asleep. After about an hour, his rabbi came over. She began whispering in his ear. He woke and listened to her. When he noticed me and smiled, I felt compelled to talk. “Thank you. I love you,” I said softly, and cried.

After the prayers, I began to speak of my times with Earl and the lessons and blessings he bestowed on me. I told the gathered that Earl was one of the most giving and generous people I had ever known, and how grateful I was for his wisdom and friendship. Earl looked at me and said, “Antennas up!” He smiled as he spoke. It was one of his early pieces of advice to me. “Pay attention to every detail around you. People and things.” I always have.

People were crying. So was I. One by one, others took the lead and told Earl how grateful and thankful they were for his wisdom, his help and his love. It was sad, but it was beautiful.

All of a sudden, Earl said, “It ain’t over yet!” Everyone laughed. But alas, it was almost over. He died this morning. Eighty-two years of fight, struggle, victory and family. He won.

Jeffrey Gitomer can be reached by phone at (704) 333-1112 or by e-mail at salesman@gitomer.com. © 2009 Jeffrey H. Gitomer