I’d like to officially welcome all of the kick-ass entrepreneurs who have joined us from Trends over the last few days.

I’m stoked to have you!

But here’s what sucks about being an entrepreneur…

You can’t be anything else. It’s not in your DNA.

Even if you’re working for someone else, you’re always itching to do more.

Today, we’re gonna dive into the unbelievable 60-year-old saga of a lifelong serial entrepreneur.

Buckle up.

Honey, they’re taking the house.

When Rick Ninko was 8 years old, the U.S. government decided to exercise eminent domain to build I-75 right through his Detroit neighborhood.

Smartly, his parents held out for as long as possible (cha-ching), and little Rick watched in amazement as giant machines lifted his neighbors’ homes off their foundations and carried them away.

Soon, his home was surrounded by nothing but empty, open basements, as far as the eye could see.

But Rick only saw one thing — opportunity.

🧱 His uncle needed bricks for projects on his farm outside the city.

🏠 And all these empty basements had chimney foundations in them.

So Rick spent his afternoons and weekends skillfully deconstructing chimney foundations and selling the bricks to his uncle for 2 cents each. 💰

It was his first taste of entrepreneurship.

He was hooked.

Miserable Motor City

Growing up in 1960s Detroit, Rick saw one singular pathway for upward mobility — earning enough money to get out of Detroit. 

The motor industry had a vested interest in keeping the workforce:

1. Dumb

2. Cheap

3. Compliant

Rick was none of these things.

So while he dabbled in typical teenage professions like…

🗞️ a paper route

🚗 a carwash

📽️ a movie theater

…he always ran hustles on the side to maximize his cash flow (some legal… some not so much 😬).

It was never simply a job for Rick. He couldn’t just show up, do what the boss said, and get paid what the boss wanted to pay him.

He always had to figure out a way to do more and earn more.

Rick didn’t become an entrepreneur — he was born one.

Blame it on the disco 🪩

Eventually, Rick saved up enough money to get the hell outta Detroit.

He had “chased a blonde” down to Florida one spring break, and like any frozen Michigander, fell head-over-heels for the sun (not the blonde).

So he decided to give Miami a try.

He didn’t have quite enough money for an apartment, so he slept on the beach and snuck into unlocked motel rooms to shower after guests had checked out.

Hey, that’s one way to pinch pennies. 🤷

Rick eventually stumbled into a job hosting dance competitions at local clubs for WMJX radio…

…and disco was all the rage. 🕺🪩🕺

Rick found a community of like-minded people at the disco clubs, and learned pretty quickly that there were only two ways to pick up babes:

1. Have money

2. Be a great dancer

Since he was short on cash, he learned to dance, eventually attracting the attention of professional dancers who took him under their wing.

He even made an appearance in the Jerry Lewis film, Hardly Working.

His new friends taught him ballroom technique, and soon he found himself making money hand-over-fist giving cha-cha lessons to rich old ladies. 🤑

That was his element. 

The harder he hustled, and the more skillfully he charmed, the more money he made.

Eventually, Rick also paired up with a chick to perform (who he may or may not have briefly married 😬).

That’s when his life took the biggest turn yet…

Welcome Aboard  ⚓

When faced with a dance couple who wouldn’t stop fighting, a booking agent friend of Rick’s asked if he and his partner could fill-in for the last few weeks of that couple’s contract.

On a cruise ship.

Hell yes. 👊

So they shot up to New York to join the SS Veendam, a Holland America ocean liner doing an NYC-Bermuda season.

It was The Love Boat meets Dirty Dancing (minus the botched abortion — as far as I know).

Every week, Rick had a fresh flock of wealthy vacationers who couldn’t get enough of his warm charm and hot moves on the dance floor.

He joined the ship to fill in for three weeks…

…and stayed for 16 months. 🤯

Rick’s dance card was full of folks willing to fork over hundreds of dollars for private lessons.

He even produced a record of dance rhythms for $.90 and sold thousands of them on board for $10 each.

Rick owned his own floating dance empire.

But he couldn’t live on ships forever.

He ventured back on to dry land with outsized confidence and suitcases filled with cash to open his own premier dance studio in the glitz and glamor of Delray Beach.

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It promptly failed. 🤦

Turns out, customers on land wanted to take lessons at studios that were owned by champion ballroom dancers — not some kid from Detroit.

So he resurrected his sea legs and set sail again — this time, as management.

The Wild West

Rick re-joined Holland America, cruising on the SS Rotterdam in Alaska as an Assistant Cruise Director.

His eyes were soon opened to an entire secondary economy on ships that, at the time, the corporate owners were oblivious to.

Cruise Directors ran the show back in the 80s, and could successfully operate side-businesses that dwarfed their salaries.

Here’s how it worked:

👉 Cruise Directors would get to know all of the best tour providers / shops / restaurants in their various ports of call, and negotiate referral deals.

👉 On board, they would build trusted relationships with the guests, and make genuine recommendations based on ensuring those guests had the best possible experience in port.

It was a win/win/win.

• The guests had a fabulous cruise. 🛳️ 

• The business owners in the ports were happy. 😁 

• And the Cruise Directors made buckets of money. 💰️ 

Rick was quickly promoted, and for the next decade, he was one of the most successful Cruise Directors in the industry.

He bounced around to different cruise lines, earning a reputation for taking amazing care of his team, and developing outstanding relationships with the small business owners in the ports.

Everyone thrived.

During this time, he met his forever-wife, a dancer aboard the SS Rotterdam, and even started a family.

Life was good. ✌️ 

The end of an era

Things started to change in the 90s. 

Carnival Cruise Lines had begun buying up independent operators, and the industry was shifting from an entrepreneurial paradise to a nightmare from Office Space.

Rick had spent the last five years on Premier Cruise Lines, one of the few remaining independent operators — but even they were changing at rapid speed.

They realized how much money was to be made by partnering with local businesses, and decided to take that over…

…by broadcasting their “official corporate partners” into guests’ staterooms on little TV screens. 

Ick. 🙄

They wanted to control every aspect of the cruise experience from the boardroom — not the lido deck.

This drove a wedge between Rick, his close relationship with the guests, and his ability to earn money entrepreneurially. 

And from time to time, some corporate jamoke would try to fire him, but Rick would whip out the thousands of comment cards from guests praising his performance, and they would back off.

Don’t f*ck with his people

The straw that broke the camel’s back actually had nothing to do with money.

Instead, it speaks to the family-like culture Rick created amongst the crew— who were away from their actual families for months (and sometimes years) at a time.

Every month, the senior officers would get together to award a deserving crew member with a cash bonus, a big party, and a huge amount of recognition. 

It was a fantastic event that the entire crew looked forward to, and Rick loved rewarding the team for their hard work.

One day, a corporate slog set sail as the new Hotel Director on board.

Without consulting any of the senior officers, including Rick who spearheaded this whole initiative, he awarded “employee of the month” to a weasley suck-up that nobody liked.

The crew members who had been under consideration for the award were devastated.

And Rick was livid. 

You could f*ck with him. You could f*ck with his career, his income, even his reputation.

But don’t f*ck with his people.

He tore the Hotel Director a new one, walked off the ship, and never went back.

It was clear. The party was over.

When one door closes…

Back on dry land once again, Rick ramped up the live entertainment production company that he and his wife Katy had launched a few years before.

But his true second-calling was a business that took him back to his Detroit roots:

🏒 An ice sports center.

He and Katy joined a team that was building the first ever Olympic-sized ice sports center in Florida.

Soon enough, they took over full ownership of the facility, operating it for 17 years with the same level of hospitality and attention-to-detail that made Rick’s Cruise Director career so successful.

They sold the ice rink and happily retired 10 years ago.

But Rick keeps building shit. 🤷

In retirement, he opened a small dance studio and a doggy exercise business to keep himself busy. 

The entrepreneurial itch never goes away.

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There’s a reason why I chose to publish Rick’s story today.

Sunday is Father’s Day. And Rick is my Dad. ❤️

He taught me everything I know about business, entrepreneurship, and how to treat people (mad props to Mom here as well).

He even taught me a few smooth dance moves. 💃

Love you, Dad! Happy Father’s Day!

Cheers! 🍻 

-Kristin :-)

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