Wong Kim Hoh meets...... (Sunday Times Interview Series)

[FA+TA]

Why this article couldn't be found in Hard-copy of ST ?

thesundaytimes
think 45

[Musicwhiz]

The Straits Times
www.straitstimes.com
Published on Mar 03, 2013
Wong Kim Hoh meets... Lim Teck
Going local is the reel thing
Straight-talking film producer Lim Teck found his calling in the movies after an inauspicious start at an e-commerce firm

When Lim Teck suddenly quit as the chief operating officer of a public-listed media company three years ago, rumours swirled.

Some people reckoned he had a fight with his boss. Others were convinced he got the sack because he lost a lot of money or did something he should not have.

"A lot of people changed overnight. You see who your real friends are. Some who regularly called me up for coffee stopped calling. I guess I was not useful to them any more," adds Mr Lim, 38, who went on to set up Clover, a film production and distribution company.

But of late, his phone has been ringing busily.

After all, the last six months have been nothing short of spectacular for Clover.

Local box-office takings for films the company produced or distributed totalled over $20 million during this period. They include Jack Neo's Ah Boys To Men and its sequel, which have collected nearly $14 million, and Jackie Chan's Zodiac, which hauled in $5 million.

The next six months look pretty rosy too. Potential money-makers Mr Lim has on his slate of films include Ghost Child - a supernatural flick produced by Eric Khoo's Zhao Wei Films - and two Andy Lau blockbusters - spy thriller Switch and romantic comedy Blind Detective.

"Hopefully the company will continue to do well. If it's more successful and makes more money, I can do things more on my own terms," he says.

Not that he has ever been a pushover. In fact, he is well-known for being blunt and aggressive, and once walked away from a business deal worth more than $200,000 over a courier fee.

"The contract came with a clause that Clover had to bear all courier charges between the two companies. If I had to pay the courier fee each time they sent me a CD, where was the sincerity in the deal?"

The straight-talking movie producer is the only child of a retired used-car financier and restaurant cashier.

The penchant for speaking his mind and making a stand surfaced early in life.

He was 15 and at Maris Stella High School when he locked horns with his Chinese language teacher.

"We had a major argument. I can't remember what it was about but he threw me out of the class and I continued arguing with him there," he recalls.

The infuriated teacher called his father.

"My dad talked to me and told me what I did was wrong and to apologise to the teacher the next day. I did as I was told but the teacher said, 'You embarrassed me in front of the whole class, so I want you to apologise to me in front of the whole class.'"

That demand did not wash well with the teenager. Nor did it hold with his father, who said there was no need to do so.

The teacher was so outraged that he did not speak to the boy for the next two years.

"He told me he was going to ignore me. I could stay in his class but as far as he was concerned, I did not exist. I did not have to hand in any homework. All I needed to do was to attend my tests and exams," he recalls.

His Chinese grades, he lets on with a grimace, suffered. But he has no regrets that he stood his ground.

He always knew what he wanted to be, even as a child.

"I've wanted to be a businessman since I was six. I don't know why, but I just have this passion for making money."

He was already doing it in primary school where he turned tidy profits selling bouquets - made by one of his aunts - to his classmates on occasions such as Teacher's Day.

After completing his A levels at Yishun Junior College, he majored in political science and economics at the National University of Singapore.

He completed his degree half a year ahead of his peers.

"The head start you get in life is how fast you can get to the next phase," he says.

His first job in advertising sales for an e-commerce company was not auspicious.

When he reported for work, he was aghast to learn that there were two sets of lifts and entrances, one for bosses and one for staff.

He was also told he had to clock in daily.

"If you were late three times, you would get a warning. Another three times, a letter. Another three times, you get the sack."

He resigned on the spot.

Next came a 15-month stint with Buena Vista International, which distributed movies by Disney and Sony.

The gig was invaluable in giving him an understanding of the movie distribution business. His work included negotiating dates and screening terms with cinema halls as well as analysing box office numbers.

Box office, he says, is a science.

"It's all about consumer behaviour and there's a pattern you can quite accurately predict."

Saturdays are the best box-office days.

"The best-performing sessions for Saturday are 3pm and 9pm and not 7pm because that's when people have dinner. But on Sunday, the 7pm session will do better than the one at 9pm because people want to go home and rest before a new week starts."

In 2000, he became manager of the Chinese film department in Shaw Organisation. His duties included acquiring, marketing and doing everything related to Chinese movies.

At that time, eclipsed by the likes of Golden Village and Eng Wah, the company's share of the local Chinese film market was just 10 per cent.

But a very hungry Mr Lim soon went to film markets and knocked on doors in Hong Kong to bag distribution deals.

"The Shaw name made it easier. Very quickly we got HK film companies from the Emperor Group and Jackie Chan coming on board," he says.

He also beavered away, marketing his films in innovative ways, going beyond the usual methods.

A lot of star tours were arranged. To promote Jay Chou's racing drama, Initial D, he arranged for a stretch of Orchard Road to be closed off to welcome the Taiwanese superstar.

He also flew in Hong Kong A-listers Tony Leung Chiu Wai and Andy Lau to promote the critically-acclaimed police thriller Infernal Affairs.

The job not only sharpened his negotiation skills, but also allowed him to form tight relationships with Hong Kong film producers, ties which now serve him well at Clover.

"Hong Kong people are very practical. Money talks most of the time. They don't beat about the bush; they're in it for the money and if you can live with that, you'll be happier dealing with them. Relationship is important, but money is more important."

When he left Shaw after six years, the cinema chain's market share of Chinese movies had grown to more than 50 per cent.

He next became the general manager of video company InnoForm and helped it branch out into movie distribution and production.

Among the films he helped produce then were Jack Neo's Just Follow Law and Kelvin Tong's Men In White.

Two years later, media company Scorpio East hired him as its chief operating officer. Under him, the company acquired movies such as John Woo's historical epic Red Cliff and Jay Chou's Kungfu Dunk.

At Scorpio East, his production resume also grew. Over two years, the company was involved in a slew of local productions - from Royston Tan's 881 and 12 Lotus to Jack Neo's Money No Enough 2 and Where Got Ghost, as well as Kelvin Tong's Kidnapper.

One movie he is particularly proud of is The Wedding Game, a romantic comedy starring real-life couple Fann Wong and Christopher Lee.

"We decided we wanted a Chinese New Year movie and we did it in just three months. The concept came from me," says Mr Lim, who personally spoke to Wong and Lee, and also got director Ekachai Uekrongtham on board.

The movie did not make money but it helped them break into the Malaysian market.

The business, he says, is a risky one, not unlike gambling. But his experience has taught him something crucial.

"To make money from production, you need to hold distribution rights. If I invest in a movie, I want to make sure I hold distribution rights. It's very crucial because you can make income from distribution to minimise losses."

Mr Lim quit Scorpio East after two years for a couple of reasons.

"My boss and I had different aspirations," he says simply.

The arrival of a hyperactive baby boy also made it hard for him to juggle both job and family.

"He was a handful and crying a lot. We had nine confinement ladies in 10 months. They did not know how to take care of him. One even quit after just one day."

Two months later in October 2009, he and his wife - who also worked in a media company - dug into their savings and set up Clover Films with $100,000.

"We just thought we'd try it for a year or a year and a half. If it didn't work out, we told ourselves we would go back to the corporate world. At least, I could give more time to my family and do things on my own terms during this period."

The first few months were rough but by the fifth month, the company had already put money into two productions: Love Cuts - a movie about breast cancer - and Old Cow vs Tender Grass, about an ageing taxi driver who falls in love with a young girl.

In the three years since it was set up, the company has acquired and released more than 50 Asian titles.

"We have also been involved in 13 local movies," he says.

It has not been all smooth sailing.

"I may have Zodiac but I also had Diva, which made only $300 for its entire one-week run," he says, referring to the 2012 drama starring Hong Kong's Joey Yung. "That means only 40 people watched it. We lost our pants on that one."

Realising the local market is small, the shrewd investor is also putting money in movies which appeal to audiences on both sides of the Causeway.

For instance, he commissioned scriptwriters to flesh out his ideas for The Wedding Diary and The Wedding Diary 2.

The two movies - about the foibles of marriage - grossed more than RM4 million (S$1.6 million) in Malaysia.

"The Wedding Diary also got released in Hong Kong and we're in talks to get it released in China. If it does, it will be the first Singapore movie to be released in the country," he says.

Filmmaker Eric Khoo, who has collaborated with Mr Lim on a few projects, says: "He has achieved and done so much in such a short time. It's pretty amazing."

Mr Lim's achievements, however, are accompanied by a reputation he makes no apologies for.

"I'm known to have a very sharp tongue. It has been said that people should have armour on when talking to me if they don't want to get hurt," says the forceful personality who has been known to challenge filmmakers on creative decisions.

Cathay Organisation Holdings chief executive, Mr Suhaimi Rafdi, however, believes the trade requires people to be like this.

"The industry is not a place for the weak. It's really volatile. He rose from a junior executive to where he is and it is not easy to do so unless you can take hard knocks and are very resilient.

He adds: "He is fair as a businessman, a man of his word. He just wants a win-win situation for everybody."

Meanwhile, Mr Lim hopes to be able to retire in 10 years.

Before he does though, he wants to prove people wrong.

"I want to drive local content. I want to defy sceptics who say local movies cannot make it, who say the time for Asian films is long gone."

kimhoh@sph.com.sg

[Temperament]

If all about him is true, i love it. But i think he is very fortunate to have good "parental support".

[Musicwhiz]

The Straits Times
www.straitstimes.com
Published on Mar 10, 2013
Wong Kim Hoh meets... Tan Lee Huak
A lesson in patience from catching crabs
TCM boss has stayed true to his principles through life's ups and downs

By Wong Kim Hoh

In 1992, a hostile neighbour in a Sims Avenue industrial building made running a business hellish for Mr Tan Lee Huak.

For peace of mind, the mild-mannered vice-president of Science Arts - a company that deals in traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) - decided to move out and invest in his own premises.

He found a five-storey building in MacPherson Road and, after several rounds of negotiations, agreed to buy it for more than $6 million.

On the day he was to sign the deal, the seller wanted half a million more.

"I was very upset but the thought of dealing with my nasty neighbour was unbearable. I talked to my two partners, who left the decision to me," he says in Mandarin.

He bit the bullet, only to be told by the bank and business associates that he had paid too much.

Mr Tan, 66, put up with a lot of ridicule but is now having the last laugh. The building is worth at least $20 million today.

"Life works in mysterious ways. Sometimes our enemies or competitors force us to make decisions we would otherwise not make."

There is nothing flashy about Mr Tan, not in the way he speaks, dresses or carries himself. He scripted his success story not with ambition and aggressive strategy, just hard work, perseverance and determination.

But that does not make his achievements any less stellar. Under his steady hand, Science Arts grew from a small retailer of medical equipment to one of the key players in TCM in Singapore.

Besides a TCM college, it runs five TCM clinics, including one each in Alexandra Hospital, Ren Ci Hospital and the Institute of Mental Health.

"It's been a long journey. Along the way, I've tasted life's suan tian ku la," he says, using a Chinese idiom that means joys and sorrows.

The youngest of three children and the only son of farmers in a Tuas fishing village, he had a rough start in life.

His father suffered a long illness and died when Mr Tan was five, leaving his mother to raise three children on her own.

"My father was warded for a while in Singapore General Hospital. We were so poor my mother did not even have the money to take the bus to see him. We raised money for her bus fare by selling guava we plucked from trees in our house," he recalls.

Life was so dire that his eldest sister did not get to go to school.

"My mother couldn't afford it. My second sister completed only Primary 6. But because I was the family's only male, I got an education," says Mr Tan, who went to Joo Koon Primary and The Chinese High schools.

By the time he was eight, he was already helping the family make ends meet by selling crabs he caught in the swampy areas near home.

"On a good day we could get several crabs. We'd sell them for 50 or 60 cents a kati," he says, referring to the traditional local weight measurement equivalent to about 600g.

There were two ways to nab crustaceans, he says.

The first was to use a metal rod with an improvised hook to prise them from their holes when the tide was out.

"If we spotted a hole with fresh mud and a clean entrance, chances were there would be crabs inside," he says.

The other method was to catch them in the river, using a net fashioned from bamboo, with a piece of shark meat as bait.

"The crabs would go crazy over shark meat. The best way was to use a sampan, but since we did not have one, we swam.

"The only problem was, there were a lot of crocodiles in those days so we had to be very careful," says Mr Tan, who lost a pet dog to the reptiles.

Other creatures he caught and peddled included monitor lizards, which preyed on chickens, ducks and other livestock in the village.

The smaller lizards were soaked in herbs and wine for medicinal purposes; larger ones were destined for the cooking pot.

His first job after completing his secondary education was as a bookstore salesman. Besides calling on schools to hawk books and stationery, his job required him to market a Chinese drug for high blood pressure to Chinese medical shops all over the island.

Two years later in 1969, a former schoolmate asked if he was keen to join Science Arts as a partner.

The company had been set up a year earlier by a group of eight, many of whom were his classmates at The Chinese High. It sold mostly medical disposables such as gauze, cotton wool and disposable syringes, as well as some Chinese health products.

When one of the partners pulled out, Mr Tan was asked to come on board. He invested $500.

"I thought it was an opportunity. I also thought that I could contribute since I had some marketing experience by then."

The business was competitive and far from profitable. The first few years were extremely difficult. There were times when Mr Tan had to forgo his salary so that other staff would be paid.

"We had no cash, no reputation. I took care of sales and marketing and the pressure on me was very great because a lot of the doctors in the clinics spoke only English. My English is very bad," says Mr Tan, who was educated in Chinese. The linguistic handicap nearly made him give up the job.

As it was hard to compete on product range, he decided to concentrate on service.

"If clinics called at 6pm and asked for ointment boxes or gauze to be delivered immediately, I would try my best to do it. Some of the other partners said I was foolish to do so.

"But the way I see it, we are human and have feelings. If I do you a favour and help you now, you will remember me and try to repay the favour when you can."

Growth was slow, and many of the founding partners started leaving the company. Today, only three are left.

"One of those who left struck 4-D and bought himself a taxi. He said he could earn more that way," recalls Mr Tan, adding that he too toyed with the idea of leaving.

Then the 1980s arrived, China began opening up and Science Arts began faring a lot better.

"By then, I already had a lot of supporters and clients. The only reason we couldn't make money was, we had to order our products through distributors in Singapore. They took the bulk of the profits; our profit margin was very small," he says.

He started knocking on doors in China himself.

"It was jialat," he says, using the Hokkien word for disastrous. "When I approached them, they would ask, 'Who are you guys? We've never heard of Science Arts before.' Many of them pushed my name card back to me when I gave it to them."

It did not help that he could afford to order only 50 or 60 boxes of a product when bigger players were ordering them by container loads.

Patience, he says, is important when doing business.

"I learnt patience a long time ago while I was catching crabs," he says with a laugh.

Word spread that he was a solid, dependable businessman, one who honoured every contract and paid promptly. Soon he was ordering container loads, instead of just boxes, of products too.

His success, however, attracted some unwelcome attention. Science Arts was then occupying several units of an industrial block in Sims Avenue. One of Mr Tan's neighbours took great pains to find out the company's best-selling products and ordered them too.

"Not only that, he also started undercutting us," Mr Tan says with a sigh.

Their once cordial relationship soured when their workers began fighting. That was when Mr Tan decided to leave, and bought the MacPherson Road building.

But rumours then spread that the company would collapse because he had bought an overpriced building.

"Soon, we had suppliers and other business associates knocking on our doors, demanding payment. It was a big disappointment that friends, and folk with whom we'd done business for a long time, could be like this."

But he managed to pay them, thanks to his negotiations with banks.

"I told the banks, 'Look, there are rumours outside but I want you to look at our record. We've always serviced our loans and never defaulted on our payments, so please do not pull the handbrake on our lines of credit.'"

The Asian financial crisis of 1997 was even more turbulent. The devaluation of the rupiah caused the company - which was doing big volumes of business in Indonesia - to go into a tailspin. Recovery was slow and painful but the crisis had a silver lining.

During this period, Mr Tan became part of The Bosses Network, a group of entrepreneurs who meet regularly to share experiences and business ideas.

"I never had the benefit of a university education but I learnt so much from some of these business leaders who had tasted both success and failure," he says, referring to the likes of Mr Han Keen Juan, head honcho of Old Chang Kee, Ms Nanz Chong, former One.99 founder, and Mr Goh Tong Pak, the former educator who became BreadTalk's CEO.

Since 1998, Mr Tan has extended the use of his auditorium in MacPherson Road for The Bosses Network meetings, held once or twice a month.

"The things I have picked up in the last 15 years you can never pick up from any MBA course."

The year 2003 was a milestone for Science Arts. The firm inked a partnership to go into the TCM business with Beijing's Tong Ren Tang, something a major Singapore health-care group had tried but failed to achieve. Tong Ren Tang, set up in 1669, made its name manufacturing drugs for the imperial family.

The Chinese pharmaceutical giant picked Science Arts because Mr Tan once managed to convince its head to leave out an ingredient - banned in Singapore - for a popular medical product for stroke patients.

The partnership has resulted in five TCM outlets-cum-clinics, three of which are in hospitals.

That, says Mr Lim Sah Soon, is a big deal.

The former secretary-general of the Singapore Chinese Chamber of Commerce and Industry says: "To be able to set up a TCM clinic in a mainstream hospital is no mean feat. Mr Tan is a quiet and humble man but what he has done is a big achievement for TCM here."

Mr Tan says: "Tong Ren Tang has more than 20 partners worldwide but none has managed to get into hospitals except in Singapore."

He has since initiated other breakthroughs. In 2007, Science Arts obtained halal certification from the Islamic Religious Council of Singapore (Muis) for 19 medicinal products. The following year, Mr Tan set up a TCM college to spread awareness of traditional Chinese medical practices here.

The company now employs more than 120 people and has an annual turnover of more than $15 million.

Mr Lim says of the friend he has known for more than a decade: "What is remarkable about him is that he is still so hungry to learn."

Indeed, Mr Tan has just completed his MBA with Tsinghua University in China, and is now taking a 11/2-year programme on the Zizhi Tongjian with the same university.

The Zizhi Tongjian is a general chronicle of Chinese history covering 16 dynasties and spanning 1,400 years.

Mr Tan, who is married but does not have any children, says: "I treasure lifelong learning. Many of my friends are graduates but they stagnated after they left university. I don't want to be like that."

kimhoh@sph.com.sg

[Temperament]

The Straits Times
www.straitstimes.com
Published on Mar 10, 2013
Wong Kim Hoh meets... Tan Lee Huak
A lesson in patience from catching crabs
TCM boss has stayed true to his principles through life's ups and downs

By Wong Kim Hoh

In 1992, a hostile neighbour in a Sims Avenue industrial building made running a business hellish for Mr Tan Lee Huak.

For peace of mind, the mild-mannered vice-president of Science Arts - a company that deals in traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) - decided to move out and invest in his own premises.

He found a five-storey building in MacPherson Road and, after several rounds of negotiations, agreed to buy it for more than $6 million.

On the day he was to sign the deal, the seller wanted half a million more.

"I was very upset but the thought of dealing with my nasty neighbour was unbearable. I talked to my two partners, who left the decision to me," he says in Mandarin.

He bit the bullet, only to be told by the bank and business associates that he had paid too much.

Mr Tan, 66, put up with a lot of ridicule but is now having the last laugh. The building is worth at least $20 million today.

"Life works in mysterious ways. Sometimes our enemies or competitors force us to make decisions we would otherwise not make."

There is nothing flashy about Mr Tan, not in the way he speaks, dresses or carries himself. He scripted his success story not with ambition and aggressive strategy, just hard work, perseverance and determination.

But that does not make his achievements any less stellar. Under his steady hand, Science Arts grew from a small retailer of medical equipment to one of the key players in TCM in Singapore.

Besides a TCM college, it runs five TCM clinics, including one each in Alexandra Hospital, Ren Ci Hospital and the Institute of Mental Health.

"It's been a long journey. Along the way, I've tasted life's suan tian ku la," he says, using a Chinese idiom that means joys and sorrows.

The youngest of three children and the only son of farmers in a Tuas fishing village, he had a rough start in life.

His father suffered a long illness and died when Mr Tan was five, leaving his mother to raise three children on her own.

"My father was warded for a while in Singapore General Hospital. We were so poor my mother did not even have the money to take the bus to see him. We raised money for her bus fare by selling guava we plucked from trees in our house," he recalls.

Life was so dire that his eldest sister did not get to go to school.

"My mother couldn't afford it. My second sister completed only Primary 6. But because I was the family's only male, I got an education," says Mr Tan, who went to Joo Koon Primary and The Chinese High schools.

By the time he was eight, he was already helping the family make ends meet by selling crabs he caught in the swampy areas near home.

"On a good day we could get several crabs. We'd sell them for 50 or 60 cents a kati," he says, referring to the traditional local weight measurement equivalent to about 600g.

There were two ways to nab crustaceans, he says.

The first was to use a metal rod with an improvised hook to prise them from their holes when the tide was out.

"If we spotted a hole with fresh mud and a clean entrance, chances were there would be crabs inside," he says.

The other method was to catch them in the river, using a net fashioned from bamboo, with a piece of shark meat as bait.

"The crabs would go crazy over shark meat. The best way was to use a sampan, but since we did not have one, we swam.

"The only problem was, there were a lot of crocodiles in those days so we had to be very careful," says Mr Tan, who lost a pet dog to the reptiles.

Other creatures he caught and peddled included monitor lizards, which preyed on chickens, ducks and other livestock in the village.

The smaller lizards were soaked in herbs and wine for medicinal purposes; larger ones were destined for the cooking pot.

His first job after completing his secondary education was as a bookstore salesman. Besides calling on schools to hawk books and stationery, his job required him to market a Chinese drug for high blood pressure to Chinese medical shops all over the island.

Two years later in 1969, a former schoolmate asked if he was keen to join Science Arts as a partner.

The company had been set up a year earlier by a group of eight, many of whom were his classmates at The Chinese High. It sold mostly medical disposables such as gauze, cotton wool and disposable syringes, as well as some Chinese health products.

When one of the partners pulled out, Mr Tan was asked to come on board. He invested $500.

"I thought it was an opportunity. I also thought that I could contribute since I had some marketing experience by then."

The business was competitive and far from profitable. The first few years were extremely difficult. There were times when Mr Tan had to forgo his salary so that other staff would be paid.

"We had no cash, no reputation. I took care of sales and marketing and the pressure on me was very great because a lot of the doctors in the clinics spoke only English. My English is very bad," says Mr Tan, who was educated in Chinese. The linguistic handicap nearly made him give up the job.

As it was hard to compete on product range, he decided to concentrate on service.

"If clinics called at 6pm and asked for ointment boxes or gauze to be delivered immediately, I would try my best to do it. Some of the other partners said I was foolish to do so.

"But the way I see it, we are human and have feelings. If I do you a favour and help you now, you will remember me and try to repay the favour when you can."

Growth was slow, and many of the founding partners started leaving the company. Today, only three are left.

"One of those who left struck 4-D and bought himself a taxi. He said he could earn more that way," recalls Mr Tan, adding that he too toyed with the idea of leaving.

Then the 1980s arrived, China began opening up and Science Arts began faring a lot better.

"By then, I already had a lot of supporters and clients. The only reason we couldn't make money was, we had to order our products through distributors in Singapore. They took the bulk of the profits; our profit margin was very small," he says.

He started knocking on doors in China himself.

"It was jialat," he says, using the Hokkien word for disastrous. "When I approached them, they would ask, 'Who are you guys? We've never heard of Science Arts before.' Many of them pushed my name card back to me when I gave it to them."

It did not help that he could afford to order only 50 or 60 boxes of a product when bigger players were ordering them by container loads.

Patience, he says, is important when doing business.

"I learnt patience a long time ago while I was catching crabs," he says with a laugh.

Word spread that he was a solid, dependable businessman, one who honoured every contract and paid promptly. Soon he was ordering container loads, instead of just boxes, of products too.

His success, however, attracted some unwelcome attention. Science Arts was then occupying several units of an industrial block in Sims Avenue. One of Mr Tan's neighbours took great pains to find out the company's best-selling products and ordered them too.

"Not only that, he also started undercutting us," Mr Tan says with a sigh.

Their once cordial relationship soured when their workers began fighting. That was when Mr Tan decided to leave, and bought the MacPherson Road building.

But rumours then spread that the company would collapse because he had bought an overpriced building.

"Soon, we had suppliers and other business associates knocking on our doors, demanding payment. It was a big disappointment that friends, and folk with whom we'd done business for a long time, could be like this."

But he managed to pay them, thanks to his negotiations with banks.

"I told the banks, 'Look, there are rumours outside but I want you to look at our record. We've always serviced our loans and never defaulted on our payments, so please do not pull the handbrake on our lines of credit.'"

The Asian financial crisis of 1997 was even more turbulent. The devaluation of the rupiah caused the company - which was doing big volumes of business in Indonesia - to go into a tailspin. Recovery was slow and painful but the crisis had a silver lining.

During this period, Mr Tan became part of The Bosses Network, a group of entrepreneurs who meet regularly to share experiences and business ideas.

"I never had the benefit of a university education but I learnt so much from some of these business leaders who had tasted both success and failure," he says, referring to the likes of Mr Han Keen Juan, head honcho of Old Chang Kee, Ms Nanz Chong, former One.99 founder, and Mr Goh Tong Pak, the former educator who became BreadTalk's CEO.

Since 1998, Mr Tan has extended the use of his auditorium in MacPherson Road for The Bosses Network meetings, held once or twice a month.

"The things I have picked up in the last 15 years you can never pick up from any MBA course."

The year 2003 was a milestone for Science Arts. The firm inked a partnership to go into the TCM business with Beijing's Tong Ren Tang, something a major Singapore health-care group had tried but failed to achieve. Tong Ren Tang, set up in 1669, made its name manufacturing drugs for the imperial family.

The Chinese pharmaceutical giant picked Science Arts because Mr Tan once managed to convince its head to leave out an ingredient - banned in Singapore - for a popular medical product for stroke patients.

The partnership has resulted in five TCM outlets-cum-clinics, three of which are in hospitals.

That, says Mr Lim Sah Soon, is a big deal.

The former secretary-general of the Singapore Chinese Chamber of Commerce and Industry says: "To be able to set up a TCM clinic in a mainstream hospital is no mean feat. Mr Tan is a quiet and humble man but what he has done is a big achievement for TCM here."

Mr Tan says: "Tong Ren Tang has more than 20 partners worldwide but none has managed to get into hospitals except in Singapore."

He has since initiated other breakthroughs. In 2007, Science Arts obtained halal certification from the Islamic Religious Council of Singapore (Muis) for 19 medicinal products. The following year, Mr Tan set up a TCM college to spread awareness of traditional Chinese medical practices here.

The company now employs more than 120 people and has an annual turnover of more than $15 million.

Mr Lim says of the friend he has known for more than a decade: "What is remarkable about him is that he is still so hungry to learn."

Indeed, Mr Tan has just completed his MBA with Tsinghua University in China, and is now taking a 11/2-year programme on the Zizhi Tongjian with the same university.

The Zizhi Tongjian is a general chronicle of Chinese history covering 16 dynasties and spanning 1,400 years.

Mr Tan, who is married but does not have any children, says: "I treasure lifelong learning. Many of my friends are graduates but they stagnated after they left university. I don't want to be like that."

kimhoh@sph.com.sg

Another inspirational article. But this time shows how a man's "soft power" and willingness to learn for life has made him successful.

[greypiggi]

Got to love fellow Chinese high boys!

[mrEngineer]

Every week I read this thread, 2 phrases come into my mind: hard work and perservence.
One can imagine how many times self doubt all these entrepreneurs have in their lives.

[yeokiwi]

Every week I read this thread, 2 phrases come into my mind: hard work and perservence.
One can imagine how many times self doubt all these entrepreneurs have in their lives.

These are indispensable qualities to be successful but it requires fate to come into play... like..

When one of the partners pulled out, Mr Tan was asked to come on board. He invested $500.

and his partner

"One of those who left struck 4-D and bought himself a taxi. He said he could earn more that way," recalls Mr Tan, adding that he too toyed with the idea of leaving.

If Mr Tan had struck 4D, what would he do?

So, do not be too harsh on yourself for not being able to make it to Forbes 500..haha.

[mrEngineer]

I am not hard on myself because I don't think I can work 20 hours 7 days a week. These entrepreneurs (so far those in the series) deserve what they have because they really work humbly and hard.

[Musicwhiz]

Sorry, this section seems to be missing today (and I have the physical newspaper!). Replaced by an interview with Tata Group. Not Wong Kin Hoh though.....