I proclaimed myself an entrepreneur eight months after the passing of my father, Martin Becker. Dad was a Holocaust survivor who came to America at age 12 with no money, family, education--or ability to speak English. He started a small salvage business in San Francisco, because, having been drafted to serve in the Korean War, that's where he disembarked upon his return. He sold dented cans and jars with the labels torn off at steep discounts, and then became an importer/exporter, wholesaling canned foods to hotels and restaurants. I'd accompany him on sales visits. We would always follow the meetings by eating dinner in whichever restaurant he had made the sale to. He later told me those were the happiest days of his life. READ MORE