Soludo Urges Boys To Reject Quick Wealth, Embrace Hard Work And Integrity

By Emeka Chiaghanam

I remembered vividly that I was nine years old the first time I saw a Panasonic logo glow in the dark. Not on some sleek flatscreen TV, but on my grandfather’s battered cassette player, which had fallen from a second-floor window. The plastic was cracked, the volume knob wobbled like a loose tooth, but when you hit play, the music came out clear as temple bells.

That’s Kōnosuke Matsushita's legacy in a nutshell: unbreakable, unpretentious, and louder than doubt.  The company was formerly Matsushita Electric Manufacturing Works (1918–1935) Matsushita Electric Industrial Co., Ltd. (1935–2008) Panasonic Corporation (2008–2022).

Long before "startup culture" became a buzzword, a sickly Osaka apprentice with no money, connections, or formal education built an empire from two things that most entrepreneurs lack today: patience and sweat. He didn't "disrupt," he endured. Matsushita didn’t chase unicorn valuations; instead, he stocked shelves himself during recessions. While modern founders burn VC cash on office beanbags, Matsushita’s first factory floor was his rented bathroom.

This isn’t a rags-to-riches fairy tale. It’s a masterclass in stubbornness. The man went bankrupt at 23, got tuberculosis at 35, and was nearly erased by World War II at 50, yet every time death whispered "quit," he answered by inventing something new. Light sockets. Radios. Bicycle lamps. Each creation hummed the same quiet anthem: Survival is the first innovation.

A Spark in the Dark

Osaka, 1917. The air smelled of solder and desperation. Konosuke Matsushita, a 23-year-old with a fourth-grade education and a spine made of tungsten, hunched over a workbench. His first invention? An adapter so simple it’s laughable now, a two-pronged socket. But back then, it was magic.

Here’s what most biographies skip: Matsushita didn’t just sell light bulb sockets. He sold light, the kind that cuts through doubt. His sales pitch wasn’t specs; it was survival. "Try it for free," he told shopkeepers. "Pay me if it works." Of course it worked. Hunger is the best quality control.

Elephants and Ants

Panasonic’s rise wasn’t linear. It was a dance of near-collapses and defiant comebacks.

• 1929: The Great Depression hits. Companies fold like origami – the Japanese art of paper folding, a practice that transforms a flat sheet of paper into a variety of shapes through folding and shaping techniques
•  Matsushita halves production but fires zero workers. Instead, he sends them to sell inventory door-to-door. Result? They clear stock and morale soars. Lesson: Treat people like assets, not line items.
• 1945: WWII leaves Japan in ashes. Occupation forces label Matsushita a "zaibatsu" (war profiteer). His company’s assets frozen, he stares down oblivion… then starts a bicycle lamp business to keep his workers fed.

Ever seen an ant carry a crumb twice its size? That was Matsushita, small, stubborn, unstoppable.

The Un-CEO

Most tycoons flex with private jets. Matsushita? He rode the subway. Wrote books in crayon-bright prose ("Business is people!"), emphasizing the paramount importance of employees in the success of any enterprise. Once, when a junior engineer apologized for a mistake, Matsushita thanked him. "Now we know what doesn’t work," he grinned.

Compare that to today’s Silicon Valley "disruptors," who’d rather fire 10,000 via Zoom than share a rice ball.

Numbers That Slap

• 1918: Starts with 3 employees, ¥100 capital (about $0.50 today).
• 1989: Dies leaving a $42 billion empire.
• 2024: Panasonic’s revenue hits $70 billion, more than Chad’s GDP.

But here’s the stat that stings: 100 years after founding, Panasonic still follows his "Seven Principles," including "Profit is society’s trust, misuse it, and you’re done." Try finding that in a corporate handbook today.

Smart? Sentimental? Both. Legacy isn’t built on balance sheets; it’s etched in rituals. Every new hire still spends a day assembling a replica of that first socket. Not for training. For memory.

The Irony of Light

Matsushita’s genius was seeing electricity where others saw darkness. Literally. Post-war Japan was a blackout. While rivals hoarded materials, he flooded markets with cheap, durable radios. Not for profit, for hope. "People need news. Music. Laughter," he insisted.

Oh, the irony: The man who lit up homes died in a hospital, staring at a flickering bulb. Even legends can’t outrun time.

Your Turn

So what’s your socket? That tiny, unsexy idea everyone ignores? Here’s Matsushita’s recipe:

1.      Start small (he tested prototypes in his bath).

2.    Sell the need, not the product (people buy holes, not drills).

3.    When hell comes, make bicycles (metaphorically speaking).

The Click Lives On

Next time you charge your phone, remember: The current connecting you to the world runs through Matsushita’s legacy. A dropout. A pawnshop regular. A man who believed business without soul is just noise.

And that static you hear? It’s not interference. It’s applause.

Great companies don’t just make products. They make echoes. Yours starts today.

You know Panasonic, the name on your TV, your headphones, maybe even your microwave. But did you know this giant wasn’t always called Panasonic?

Back in 1927, when the company was still young, they sold their first lamp under the name "National." Simple, strong—like a lightbulb that just works. But when they started selling speakers and radios overseas in the 1950s, they hit a snag: Someone else already owned the name "National" in America.

So what do you do when your brand name is taken? You get creative.

They mashed together two words:

• "Pan" (meaning all)
• "Sonic" (for sound)

And just like that, Panasonic was born. A name that said, "We do it all, and we do it with great sound."

But the branding drama didn’t stop there. Over the years, they tried out different names for different products:

• "Technics" for high-end audio gear (DJ turntables!)
• "Sanyo" (before they retired it in 2012)
• Even "National Panasonic" for a while, like a corporate identity crisis.

Fun fact: Panasonic also sold the world’s first bread machine. Because why just make speakers when you can also bake bread?

Today, it’s all under one name: Panasonic, with the slogan "A Better Life, A Better World." From a tiny lightbulb company to a global tech giant, they’ve kept one thing the same: They make stuff that lasts.

So next time you see that Panasonic logo, remember, it’s not just a brand. It’s a century of reinvention. And a really good bread machine.