JOURNAL HIGHLIGHTS: Roads I Have Traveled... Excerpt # 2 North Korea September 1995

by Dr. James W. Jackson

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist

(continued) Pyongyang, North Korea: September, 1995: Before going to our rooms Wednesday night, Mr. Rim informed us that we should wear our black suits the next morning. But we didn’t know where we were going until after breakfast, when our entourage of black Mercedes picked us up, and we drove across town and pulled in where there were several hundred military officers in full dress uniforms standing around waiting for something. There were also a few civilians in black suits mixed into the crowd.

It had started to rain, so we stayed sitting in the car. I could feel at least a thousand eyes on us as we got out of the car and took our place in a single line. You have to remember that most of the military had never seen an American man except in training films, where they were taught the best and fastest ways to kill us in hand-to-hand combat. They had no outside TV coverage, no outside newspapers, no contact with what was happening outside their borders. So when they encountered a real live, fair-skinned American man within reach of where they were standing, it was no wonder they at least stared.

While standing in line, Jay and I were temporarily given back our passports. We eventually made it up to the front of the line and stepped under a couple of big blue umbrellas. There, our overseers showed the others their passports and explained who we were and showed our passports. The officials nodded and motioned us through. Jay and I still did not know where we were going. We were queued up in front of a trolley station with a group of about one hundred military and civilians.

Soon a trolley, nicer than any other I had ever seen in Pyongyang and nicely painted a green color, pulled alongside the platform, and military women directed us on board. About three miles away, our trolley pulled alongside another platform, and we exited and began a walk for about another mile. In the meantime the men had asked for our passports back. The pedestrian road led us to a huge new marble complex. We later found out it was called the Kumsusan Memorial Palace. I doubt that a hundred million dollars would have covered the new construction … and it was still being built.

Soon we guessed where we were going. We had been chosen to be some of the first individuals to ever personally view the body of Great Leader Kim Il-Sung lying in state. But we were not through with the ceremony yet. As we approached the new white marble walkway (literally acres of white marble patio), we walked over an area that washed our shoes—too bad if your socks got wet.

After waiting in a single-file line for a long while, we were eventually led inside through a very big set of hand-carved, double-wooden doors, twenty feet tall, through the entry rooms, and eventually into a very large marble room, where at one end was a pure-white alabaster statue about thirty feet tall of Great Leader Kim Il-Sung in a standing position. Three by three, the military marched up within fifteen feet of the statue, saluted, turned, and marched out. The experience made me shiver. Here was a pure-white statue with backlighting of blended red, pink, blue, and white colors graduating from the bottom up in an all-marble room in an all-marble building.

When it was our time to approach the statue, we were lined up side by side about seven in a straight line. We all walked up together, took a bow, turned right, and exited through another set of tall, hand-carved doors. From there the single-file line headed up three flights of marble stairs cordoned off by bright-gold ropes. Coming down the other corresponding stairway was another single-file line—mostly military officers. All the women officers were crying.

As I approached the top of the third landing, there was a sound of huge air blowers. Before we were allowed entrance into the next room, we had to pass through a short hallway where there were high-powered air jets blowing from both sides. Little did they care if it nearly blew the hair off our heads. There was no loose dust on us when we entered the room.

Jay and I had been afforded a great honor that day. We had been placed near the front of the line to view the body of Great Leader Kim Il-Sung. We had been put in a visible place of privilege at the head of many of the military generals and heads of the North Korean government. We were the only Americans to be there and be so honored.

The room was another large marble, black-and-gray, highly polished room, and in the very center was a glass-covered marble display shelf and table with Kim Il-Sung lying in state. Soft organ music was playing some of the Korean patriotic songs, which I recognized from the Friendship Arts Festival. The lighting techniques were extremely effective, and there were four stations around the coffin where we were to stop and bow in respect. I looked to see if the large growth on the back of his head, which I had seen in person in 1993, was still there, or if it had been removed for the viewing. I concluded that it had been removed.

After making a full circle of the body, we exited out the rear and back down the long marble stairways. I won’t take time to discuss my feelings about Kim Il-Sung, but it was a privilege—and I guess kinda fun—being part of world political history. And I really was glad that Jay had a chance to be part of an unusual bit of history.

We walked the mile back to the trolley station and rode the three miles back to the car. I glanced down at my watch as the driver opened the door for me: Over three hours for that homage ordeal.

We drove out of the parking area, with all the military folks still staring at us, and headed on out toward the outskirts of Pyongyang city.  

© Dr. James W. Jackson   

Permissions granted by Winston-Crown Publishing House

  

www.jameswjackson.com 

 

Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com

JOURNAL HIGHLIGHTS: Roads I have Traveled...Excerpt # 1 from September, 1995

by Dr. James W. Jackson

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist

Note: Our diplomatic and humanitarian experience with Pyongyang, North Korea over the years has been an unusual saga of intrigue and fulfillment. The involvement has been highly applauded by our own Department of State as well as the leaders of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK). I would like to share with you some of the saga by letting you read excerpts from my actual Journal entries and photo albums. The Journal segments cover the eight trips where I was involved, my meetings in New York and Los Angeles with my DPRK contacts, and the different incidents where we brought the North Korean leaders to our home in Colorado. More recently, Dr. Douglas Jackson, our current President and CEO of Project C.U.R.E. recently returned from Pyongyang.

Pyongyang, North Korea: September, 1995: The next morning, Jay (my second son) and I ate breakfast at the Radisson and caught the bus to the Tokyo airport at 7:30 a.m. for the three-hour flight to Beijing.

I had told Jay that DPRK’s Mr. Hyun Hak Bong from the United Nations office in New York had assured me that they had notified their Beijing embassy, and someone would be there to give us any needed assistance we might require during our stay in Beijing. But no one was there to meet us.

After about an hour of fretting, we grabbed a taxi to the Holiday Inn, Central Plaza on Wangfujing Avenue, near the heart of Beijing. The next morning Jay and I worked out quite strenuously in the hotel’s exercise room and then cleaned up, ate breakfast, and prepared for the task of the day: heading to the North Korean embassy. After a bit of an ordeal we received our visas and airplane tickets. Our flight leaving Beijing for Pyongyang was scheduled to depart at 3:00 p.m. The agent at Air Koryo had told us to check in by 1:30 p.m.

The plane’s flight course was low and sustained, which gave us a great opportunity to view the beautiful mountains, rolling hills, and cultivated farmland of North Korea. That’s as close to a firsthand view of the DPRK as any Americans have gotten since 1953. I had not heard of any American being granted permission to travel the countryside of the DPRK. All were confined to the limits of Pyongyang city.

I watched closely out the window and tried to imagine what one of the rural health clinics would look like that served the communities of the communal farm areas. My mind wandered, wondering whether Mr. Chun and Mrs. Rim, our micromanagers on the previous trip, would again meet us at the airport.

Jay and I deplaned and cleared the passport and immigration authorities. We loaded our boxes and bags on carts when they arrived on the conveyor belts and headed for customs. The officers began to give me a hard time about the contents of the hand-carried boxes of sample medical supplies and the suitcase containing all the gifts. At the next booth the official was giving Jay an equally bad time and was rummaging through his carry-on bag. The official pulled out a large firefighters training textbook that Jay had been studying, and it looked like the official had the full intention of confiscating it. Fortunately, just at that moment a short man in his late forties stuck his head around the security barrier and hollered out “Jackson” to me. When I responded, he pushed his way past security and came up to the customs officials. He took Jay’s book out of the official’s hand, put it back in the bag, zipped it up, said something to that official, and sent Jay out the door. He then came over to my booth, put my boxes and bags back on my cart, spoke to the official, and sent me out the door.

Once outside the terminal, it was time for introductions. My curiosity was answered—no, Mr. Chun and Mrs. Rim would not be there. Mrs. Rim no longer worked for the service, and Mr. Chun was now a very important member of the powerful Disarmament Committee dealing with issues like nuclear treaties and reunification. However, the short man who came to our rescue was named Mr. Rim Tong Won, so that would be easy to remember. The deputy vice minister of the health ministry, Mr. Ri Su Kil, was there, and Jong Won Son was also there as an official of the ministry of foreign affairs.

They had two older black Mercedes waiting for us, and as was their tradition, they took our passports and separated us into two different cars. If I hadn’t already gone through that routine before, I would have been spooked, especially since it was my son they were separating from me. 

It was dusk, and the sun had set before we left the airport. The road into Pyongyang from the airport was a beautiful drive. North Korea is very mountainous and green. The long, wide highway was dotted with workers still along the roadsides sweeping leaves off the freeway with their homemade branch brooms. The workers were not in danger from traffic, because you hardly ever see a car in DPRK. Occasionally you might see a farm truck or a government vehicle carrying troops, but very few cars. 

It was almost dark when we rounded a corner on one of the city’s main streets, and I recognized one of the beautiful performing-arts theaters, where I had visited on the previous trip. Just across the street from the theater was the Pyongyang Hotel, an older, large marble hotel built within a convenient walking distance to the river parks and many of the important buildings. We pulled into the entry, and I was ushered out of my car, and Jay out of his. 

The next morning we were scheduled to view and perform a needs assessment on the Kim Man Yu Hospital. A man born in Korea but displaced to Japan at a very early age had become a very wealthy businessman in Japan. Before he died he wanted to do something for his mother country, so he agreed to build and furnish a totally modern hospital facility for Pyongyang. That he did, and it was completed in 1986. When I visited the hospital in 1993, I thought it strange to see the finest and newest equipment available there in Pyongyang. It was used as a showpiece, and the propaganda message to visitors was that the DPRK had the finest medical-care plan for its people and was totally free to all citizens from cradle to grave, and this was the quality of health care that was provided. 

I remembered asking to see one of the rural or village clinics when I was there before. No way. In fact, it was my understanding that fewer than two hundred Americans had been allowed into the DPRK in the past, and none were allowed outside Pyongyang.

The hallways of Kim Man Yu were empty and dark. We were taken to the room where the CAT-scan machine was installed. They turned on the lights and uncovered the control board and then explained that the machine was used in the mornings. Sorry, we couldn’t see it work. The same process was repeated for the ultrasound machine, the angiographic machine, the EKG machines, and so on. But it was apparent that the machines were not used but were just there for show and tell. 

The sad thing was that now those state-of-the-art machines are not the latest equipment available. In the years since the hospital was built, several generations of new technology have become available. Soon show and tell wouldn’t even be a featured attraction.

We left Kim Man Yu Hospital and returned to the hotel, where we were scheduled to have a meeting with one of the most influential members of the Disarmament Committee. There was also such a committee in South Korea, and I had previously met with them while I was in Seoul. The committees were organized to work out the details of reunification possibilities, and in the north to also oversee such issues as the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty. I was eager to meet with the committee members.

They seated Jay and me on one side of the conference area, when to my great surprise the man they ushered in to sit on the other side and represent the Disarmament Committee was none other than my good friend Mr. Chun.

Mr. Chun had been our interpreter, along with Mrs. Rim, for the nearly two weeks I was in the DPRK in 1993. He attended almost all of my meetings with the ministry heads and ambassadors, and the last time I had seen him was in the U.S. in January 1995. 

You can only imagine the thrill and excitement when we saw each other in the conference room. We stepped across the room and hugged each other like brothers. The looks on all the other dignitaries’ faces in the room would have been worth a picture. The whole trip turned on that moment.

At formal meetings like that, each side opens with introductory remarks with the assistance of government interpreters. Then, following the opening remarks, the dialogue goes back and forth, taking turns in formal procedure. After expressing several pleasantries regarding our previous meetings, and after sending his respects and affection to Anna Marie and saying nice words of greeting to Jay, Mr. Chun began to unload to all those in the conference room.

“Since 1993, when Mr. Jackson was here before and to this date, many things have taken place. We of the DPRK find ourselves and the government of the United States in better relations than at any time in the past forty-five years. I want to say for the official record that Mr. Jackson and his great efforts are greatly responsible for those improved relations. He has done a lot for our cause. Mr. Jackson is the first to ever bring from the United States any gift of such significance. Others have talked and made promises. Mr. Jackson has not talked but has rather acted. This government sees Mr. Jackson as a friend and a true man of his word. 

“Since this is the first of such an action, his efforts shall be recorded in the book of Korean history and will never be lost or forgotten. Mr. Jackson is expected to bring contacts and other aid with him; therefore, we see him as our ambassador. Yes, relations have progressed greatly, and Mr. James Jackson had a lot to do with that.” 

Mr. Chun went on to say how much the government appreciated and was impressed by my sending the official letters of condolence to His Excellency, Kim Jong Il, at the time of the death of his father, Great Leader Kim Il-Sung.

I said that it had taken great effort and focus to bring about the shipping of the gift of medical supplies, and in essence we were the first to receive an official license to ship and had successfully shipped the supplies, thus actually breaking through the long-standing embargo.

I presented my case, then, to Mr. Chun about needing to view some rural or village clinics and have meetings with health-ministry officials and local doctors to discover the most appropriate items for future shipments. He assured me that I would have the meetings and would also receive lists that would help me make decisions for the future.

Next Week: Frank and Open Discussions

© Dr. James W. Jackson   

Permissions granted by Winston-Crown Publishing House

  

www.jameswjackson.com 

Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com

JOURNAL HIGHLIGHTS: Roads I Have Traveled, Excerpt # 2 from March, 1996

by Dr. James W. Jackson

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist

(continued) Pakistan: March, 1996):  I thanked the senator for such an honor and privilege of being invited to be with them for the evening when I knew that they had been in busy senate sessions all day and would have to return to the chambers to continue their work early tomorrow morning. It was an evening I will remember throughout the rest of my life. 

 

I went on to tell them about growing up in America, where the pressures to succeed and accomplish were so great and the expectations to attain and personally accumulate wealth were so strong. I told them I was not born into a wealthy family, but in America, if a person really desired to rise above the difficulties and achieve success, it was very possible to do so.

I told them that it was like the man who entered the shoemaker’s shop and told the proprietor that he needed new shoes and wanted to know how much a pair of new shoes would cost. The shopkeeper told him the price of a pair of new shoes would be one hundred dollars. The man agreed and purchased the new shoes for the price. As he was leaving the shop, another man entered and asked about the price of a new pair of shoes. The shopkeeper told him one hundred dollars. 

“But I don’t have one hundred dollars. All I have is fifty dollars.” 

Whereupon the man who had just purchased his new shoes pulled the package containing his used shoes from under his arm. “Sir, I have a pair of shoes here that I would be willing to sell you for fifty dollars.” The second man happily agreed and paid the first man fifty dollars for his shoes. 

Now, each of the two men bought a pair of shoes that day. Each paid fifty dollars for his pair of shoes. One man ended up with a new pair of shoes for fifty dollars, and the other ended up with a used pair of shoes for fifty dollars. 

“When I was young,” I told them, “I determined that I would always be the man with the new shoes.”

I went on to share my experience in business and the art of bartering and how God got ahold of my life and changed me completely. I told them that in order to break the addiction of per­sonal greed and accumulation, my wife and I gave away our wealth, and I vowed to God that I would use the abilities he had given to me to put deals together that would benefit oth­ers, if he would but give me a second chance in my life and allow me to start over again. I went on to talk about Project C.U.R.E. and the personal reward and satisfaction I receive from seeing people, who otherwise would have died, being helped and sent home from hospitals and clinics healed because of God’s love through the efforts of Project C.U.R.E. 

I told them that it was all right now if I did not always have new shoes. I told them that I am, however, still involved in barter and am totally satisfied with what I am now receiving from my share of the barters. “I am the happiest man in the world because I am now exchang­ing affluence for moral influence. Thank God, I was given the opportunity to exchange success for significance.” 

I then told them that without doubt they are the most successful men in Pakistan, or else they would not be where they are tonight. “But,” I said, “I see in your eyes tonight that some of you need to accept my invitation. Some of you here tonight also need to move from a position of success to a position of significance.”

When I finished they applauded for a long time, and I saw tears in the eyes of at least one senator. All came by and spoke and shook my hand as they left. Many of them hugged me. Another senator, who is the chairman of the powerful senate education committee, stood close and said to me and the others standing around the door, “I am frightened when I think of how close I came to missing this meeting tonight. I am inspired … My life will not be the same.”

Before I went to bed, I thanked Jesus for being in that meeting in such a strong way. He seemed to remind me that when he was on earth walking and talking, those were the very Gentiles, the sons of Ishmael, the seeds of Abraham and Hagar that he was referring to when he said that he had come to bring salvation to the Gentiles. 

I feel so humbled and so privileged to have had the opportunity tonight to share with those powerful Muslim leaders. In fact, involvement in the whole Pakistan episode—the traveling, the dangers, the terrible hospitals, the cargo-container movement from our warehouse to the port of Karachi—has been well worth the single opportunity of sharing with the senator and his important friends. I was not the one who manipulated the meeting that dark night in December, flying at thirty-six thousand feet over the old Soviet Union from Islamabad to Amsterdam. God’s love and his great plan are becoming reality, and his faithfulness to the promise to Abraham’s seed is being played out in an ongoing pageant of eternal love and acceptance. 

I may have now played my bit part in this drama and will be allowed to slip off the stage as the next scene unfolds. But I went to bed tonight in the heart of Islamabad, Pakistan, with the satisfying knowledge that I have been true to my commitment to God that I would go anyplace and say anything to anybody as an act of total obedience if he would give me the guidance and assurance that I am, indeed, at the right place at the right time saying the right things to the right folks. The expectations and results are not mine. Those are within God’s jurisdiction, but I can sleep well tonight in Islamabad, Pakistan.

 

© Dr. James W. Jackson   

Permissions granted by Winston-Crown Publishing House

  

www.jameswjackson.com 

Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com

JOURNAL HIGHLIGHTS: Roads I Have Traveled, Excerpt # 1 from March, 1996

by Dr. James W. Jackson

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist

(continued) Pakistan: March, 1996) Senator Raja M. Zafar-al-Haq was absolutely true to his word. Before I left for my return trip to Pakistan, I sent him a fax telling him when I would be there and giving him two alternative dates for us to get together. On March 10 he replied and invited me to meet with him on the evening of March 18 in Islamabad. When I arrived in Islamabad on March 13, on my way to Quetta, I called the senator’s office and confirmed our evening together. 

When I returned to Islamabad from Quetta today (March 18), there was a message at my hotel room that everything was set. The senator would be in sessions all day but would personally come to my room at 7:30 p.m., greet me, brief me on the dinner meeting and the persons who would be in attendance, and then accompany me to the dinner.

In my short life, I have had way more than my share of unbelievable and astounding experi­ences, but today was, indeed, one of the most memorable! The senator escorted me to a room that was beautiful enough to make you gasp. As the door opened, there was a beautifully decorated table with large fruit baskets and lots of puffy, white linen tablecloths.

A little while before 8:00 p.m., the dignitaries began coming, one at a time, into the appointed room. The senator formally received them and then brought them to me and introduced me as the honored guest of Pakistan. When several guests had arrived, I was directed to sit with the senator on a sofa against one wall of the large room. The other guests were seated in a semicircle facing me. The senator had informed each of the guests about Project C.U.R.E. and my involvement in the international world. Everyone was warm and very cordial, and no one allowed the formality of the evening to interfere with our getting acquainted.

The senator had invited twelve guests for the evening. Five were senior senators who are heads of import committees and commissions in the country. Three of the guests were either present ambassadors or former ambassadors of Pakistan throughout the world. The other four were nationally or internationally famous doctors.

As additional guests arrived, we would all stand, be introduced, sit back down, and con­tinue our talking. When one of the ambassadors found out that my travels in the next couple of weeks will take me to Uganda, he related stories of when he was ambassador to Uganda during the time that Idi Amin was taking over the country. They were all huddled on the top floor of the embassy while the revolutionaries were dragging the civilian nationals and government leaders into the lower area of the embassy and shooting them. The dignitaries shared many other intrigu­ing stories.

Finally all the guests arrived, and we were seated at the large, beautifully prepared table. Every­thing was so exquisite. A full eight-course meal was served by attendants dressed in uniforms and wearing white gloves. The dinner conversation centered a lot around Project C.U.R.E. and health needs around the world. They also discussed the terrible problem of crime in Karachi and other cities and said that it just didn’t seem like the morals taught in the Koran were as effective as they used to be. 

When we had been served dessert and tea, the senator tapped his crystal water glass with his knife to get the attention of his guests. He then leaned over to me and said, “These are my close friends – some of the most powerful men in Pakistan- now I want you to tell them what you told me about God as we were flying together that night in December. He then stood and told all the guests how he and I had met on the airplane and how I had honored them by returning to Pakistan to meet with them. He requested then that I speak about why I would leave the comfort of my home and go around the world to seek out places to help people with donated medical supplies.

Next Week: May the Seeds Planted Become Great Trees 

© Dr. James W. Jackson   

Permissions granted by Winston-Crown Publishing House

  

www.jameswjackson.com  

Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com