The odds are stacked in favor of tall people, several studies have said. The Amick brothers, separated by four years and 9 inches, don't buy it.
By LANE DeGREGORY
Published October 30, 2003
[Family photo]
This photo of John and Breck Amick was taken outside their home in the Old Northeast section of St. Petersburg about 1962. John, 10, is a fifth-grader. In front is Breck, 6, a first-grader.
Breck, front, and John Amick took paths as different as their heights. Breck works in the family termite business, Amick and Son. John works as a broker for Smith Barney.
[Times photo: James Borchuck]
ST. PETERSBURG - All their lives, the Amick brothers thought it was true: Size doesn't matter. That's what everyone said.
And the Amick brothers tried to believe.
John, the big brother, stands 6 feet 6.
Breck, the little brother, is 5 feet 9.
John can rest his chin on Breck's head. (But Breck won't let him.)
John is 52 now. Breck is 48. And as late as last week, they were still insisting: "We're who we are because of what's inside."
Then along came several studies showing that size does matter. "It pays to be tall," a front-page headline said. "A boy's height at age 16 is a significant determinant of his salary as an adult."
According to professors at the universities of Florida, Pennsylvania and North Carolina - plus researchers in Britain and Iceland - taller people are more confident, more admired, more looked up to (so to speak). And that translates into earnings. The studies say every inch above average height equals an additional $789 in annual salary.
That would mean, with his 9 extra inches, John should make at least $7,101 more per year than Breck.
So does he?
All things being equal
Lots of people know the Amick brothers. Their parents are St. Petersburg natives. Their mother, Toni, was a debutante and a docent at the Museum of Fine Arts. Their father, Philip, ran the family's pest control business, which his father started in 1931.
John and Breck are the Amicks' only children. They both were star athletes at St. Petersburg High, officers in the Interact Club, scholarship recipients at Florida's two largest universities. They both moved back to St. Petersburg to get married and raise their own families. They're both avid fishermen, members of the Rotary Club.
Two brothers, who grew up in the same house, with the same influences and advantages - separated by 9 inches.
Did size really matter after all?
No, no, the Amick brothers kept insisting, even after they saw the studies.
Then they looked back over their lives.
The lowdown
It all started in kindergarten, John says.
Actually, it started long before that, says his mom. Her grandfather was tall. "Towered well over 6 feet," Toni Amick says. "John must've got it from him."
John's dad, Philip, stands 6 feet. His mom is 5 feet 5. By the time John started school, his dark crew cut already reached his mom's shoulder.
"I was always the tallest kid in my class," John says. "When they took group pictures, they always made me stand in the back."
As a child, John says, he felt out of place. He didn't fit in the desks (it didn't help that he's left-handed). He towered above his classmates' conversations (he kept having to ask everyone, "What?"). Even sitting on the carpet for story time, he realized he was in the way.
"I've always been conscious of the people behind me," he says. "I never want to block anyone."
By the time Breck began kindergarten, John had shot up even more. He was in fifth grade and was as tall as his dad. "And John was always so skinny," his mom says. "Breck was built more sturdy. I never could hand-me-down their clothes."
John's height made him self-conscious and shy. " "How's the weather up there? Nice belt buckle, Buddy.' Oh, I've heard all the jokes," John says.
In middle school, everyone told John he should play basketball. So he did.
He would hang out at his buddy's house down the street until supper, dribbling around the driveway, shooting foul shots.
Breck tried to play, too. "But I was no good," he admits. "I was always last to get picked for teams. And then all John's friends called me Squirt. "We're only taking you because of your brother,' they'd say. So I gave up basketball."
He started hanging out at North Shore Pool. When you're swimming, you're horizontal.
Some call him Zip
John was the tallest student at St. Pete High. Everyone knew him. At least by sight.
"I sort of stuck out," he says. "I was still really uncomfortable with that. Plus, I was so thin. I was already 6-foot-6 and I only weighed 180 pounds."
He had to stoop to look anyone in the eye. He was painfully shy around girls. "I didn't date much in high school," John says. "I always wanted to. But I never really tried."
And he wanted to play football. He told the coach he had great hands. But the coach told John he'd get snapped like a toothpick. So John went back to basketball.
A sports writer wrote that John was so skinny, if he stood sideways and stuck out his tongue he would look like a zipper.
"Some of our friends still call him Zip," Breck says.
John didn't offer that tidbit.
All through adolescence, the Amick brothers had the usual sibling scraps. They didn't fight hard. But they wrestled a lot. "John would always sit on me, and I was too little to get leverage on him," Breck says.
"Breck would always wriggle away," John says. "I'd always tell him, "I'm bigger than you!' But he'd never do what I wanted him to."
When Breck started high school, he was 5 feet 2, weighed 125 pounds. He had lots of friends. Lots of girls. And he made the football team.
"Everyone knew me, because they all knew John," Breck says. But I really wanted to do my own thing by then. Turned out, I was too small for football. But my build was very suited to diving. John never could've done that because of his height."
So size does matter. At least in sports.
Soon the Amick brothers started seeing other ways their stature would affect them, and for a lot longer than a college scholarship.
By the time John was 16, his height already had influenced his future earnings. Just like the studies said.
No room
When John was a teenager, when he was ready to get his first job, he assumed he would work for his dad. His family had been in the pest control business for three generations.
Then, one day, John's dad sat him down and told him: "Son, you're too tall."
Too tall to go crawling under people's houses looking for termites. Too tall to squeeze into attics.
"I don't know that I would have chosen that path for the long run anyway," John says. "But hearing that, I realized I'd have to find my own way.
"If my dad hadn't said that, who knows?" John says. "Maybe I'd be running the business today. Maybe Breck would've ended up doing something else."
And all because he's too tall to crawl.
In the huddle
John decided he would become a professional basketball player. What else did tall people do?
He got a scholarship to Florida State. He played in the 1972-73 NCAA finals against UCLA. He was nowhere near the tallest kid on the court.
"In college, I was right in the middle. There were guys on the team who were 7 feet. So I didn't stick out any more," John says. Plus, he had filled out by then. He weighed 210 pounds.
"And the girls started noticing me," he says. "In college, I finally got my confidence."
Breck became a champion diver at the University of Florida. In 1978, he dove against Greg Louganis "and beat him," John brags about his younger brother.
Both Amick boys got married shortly after college. John worked for the state Legislature. Then became a lobbyist for the U.S. Brewers' Association. He went back to school, got a master's degree in public administration, then moved back to St. Petersburg.
He has been a stockbroker at Smith Barney for 20 years.
Under the deck
Breck majored in education. He wanted to be a diving coach. But he discovered diving coaches don't make much money.
So Breck moved back to St. Petersburg. He started working with his dad. "I didn't look at it as an obligation. It was more of an opportunity to inherit something my family had built up, a chance to be my own boss."
Breck is the vice president of Amick and Son Inc. He has been with the company for more than 20 years.
He's just the right height to crouch in a crawl space.
Who says size doesn't matter?
Over the top
Some people say John is intimidating. "They say I have this presence, they think I'm looking down on them or something," he says. "I think that's because of my height."
So he goes out of his way, he says, to lean down and make eye contact. To speak softly. To be gentle.
Breck disagrees.
"John plays his height to his advantage," Breck says. "He really uses his presence. I can only imagine it's purposeful."
Breck is more brash, his mom and brother say. He'll tell it to you like it is.
There has never been any jealousy between the boys, their mom says. Never really much rivalry. "We've both always gravitated toward things we were suited for, things that fit us," Breck says.
"Okay, maybe that did have something to do with our height."
Show me the money
The Amick brothers are best friends now. They go fishing together, watch Lightning games, get together with their daughters - and their parents - whenever they can.
John still helps Breck reach things off the top shelves. Breck still helps John in the yard, still inspects his house for termites.
John drives a Yukon XL. Breck drives a Ford Explorer.
The new house John just bought in the Jungle area of St. Petersburg is valued at almost three times the amount of Breck's home in Lake Pasadena.
And how about that income? Is it really $7,101 more, like the study said?
"Well, I do most of my business over the phone. So it's not like people walk through the door and say, "I want to work with the tallest stockbroker.' Oftentimes, after I've had several conversations with a client over the phone, I finally get to meet that person, and they'll say, "Oh, you didn't sound so tall.' I take that as a compliment," John says.
But what about the money?
John laughs. He shakes his head. "It would be safe to assume that a stockbroker would make more than someone who owns a termite business," he says.
But money doesn't matter. That's what everyone said. Breck tries to believe that.
"I'm very happy with what I do. I enjoy my work. I love the independence of being my own boss. I can take off time when I want to be with my family. I can control what happens to me and this business.
"If we were a little more sales-oriented, I probably could make almost as much money as John," Breck says. He smiles. He stands up to his full, average height.
"I've never felt like I've been shortchanged," he says. (So to speak. . . .)
Breck, front, and John Amick took paths as different as their heights. Breck works in the family termite business, Amick and Son. John works as a broker for Smith Barney.