Deciding When to Launch

“Business is conceptually easy: Buy low, sell high, collect early, pay late.”
Craig Floerchinger’s opening line at an AIS training course

In south-central Alaska, the Gulkana River flows into the Copper, and eventually drains into the Gulf of Alaska south of Cordova. There is a 47-mile stretch of the Gulkana that is reserved for rafters and canoeists. In June and July, the Gulkana River is teeming with a combination of rainbow trout, Arctic grayling, Copper River king salmon, and red salmon. Not far from the river banks, massive bald eagle nests are easily spotted in the trees. The nesting partners take turns perching on the spruce branches that line the riverbank, searching for the salmon that swim upstream to spawn. This run of class I to III rapids starts with a hard row across Paxson Lake, and finishes with a slow float to the Sourdough campground. The upper reaches of the river traverse rolling valleys and vertical ridges of arctic boreal forest. At mile 23, the roar of the water builds anticipation of the falls to come as the river drops into a narrow canyon of class III and at times class IV rapids. Eight miles below the falls, the class II rapids dissipate, and the river begins to meander again. Here, as the river leads to the confluence with the West Fork and beyond, the shores of the lower reaches of the Gulkana frame the 14,000 foot glacier-covered summits of the Wrangell range.

In July 1988, Professor Marv Andresen and his wife Pat, my newly-expectant wife Cindy, and our two young sons and I spent five days rafting down the Gulkana River. Marv and I worked together on UAF’s successful $400,000 computer laboratory grant. In addition to being a UAF School of Management professor, Marv was an oil well investor, an athletic club principal, and Alaska’s top racketball player in his age bracket. On numerous runs down the Gulkana together, Marv also worked on my whitewater rafting skills.

A few days into the adventure, after a long day on the river, Marv and I were “anchoring” the rafts by pulling the bows higher up on the gravel bar, checking the tautness of the rowing frame straps, and topping off the inflation levels. While we worked, Marv asked how I thought things were going in the IT industry and at Unisys. I indicated my team was having a spectacular year in Alaska, and then I delivered a rote opinion of my company’s position — straight from my latest briefing. When I finished, Marv looked puzzled and said, he “wasn’t so sure.”

He then explained he was sensing a fundamental shift in the IT industry. The PE ratios for IBM, Burroughs/Unisys, NCR, CDC, Honeywell, Data General, and DEC all indicated performance challenges. Mergers of underperforming firms were occurring; cost reductions and layoffs were continuing to be announced across the IT industry. Even IBM’s vaunted “no layoffs” rule was rumored to be under pressure. Marv described that he could go into a computer store in Fairbanks most evenings, and their staff was over-run with professional clientele. He described a seemingly endless tech book section at a Seattle bookstore with almost no coverage of the old industry players beyond HP and IBM. Information technology control was changing over from the few to the many. “Proprietary” closed systems seemed to be rapidly giving way to open standards. Networking products were allowing printer and file sharing, communication, and collaboration. Enabling technologies like spreadsheets and data file applications were eliminating some tasks that not long ago required a programmer. The industries’ legacy firms were not leading the change. The cultures of the these IT firms were slow to embrace the new order of “open”, “easily accessible”, and fast to market. Even IBM’s good start in the PC industry was in a state of challenge: OS/2 was late and struggling to gain acceptance, and IBM was again late with their 386 announcement and losing share to Compaq. For these reasons and others, Marv felt strongly the IT industry was at a classic inflection point.

As we sat on the edge of the raft, I begin to get a sinking feeling about my company’s positioning in the market. Then Marv asked a more difficult question. “What do you see happening with your career over the next few years?” I responded, “My guess is at some point in 1989, Unisys will move me to the Bay Area.” Marv immediately changed direction with, “Do you know Jon Peacock? Jon is basically running TransAlaska Data System’s MicroAge division.” I replied, “Is he the executive that has a Ph.D. in computational chemistry?” Marv nodded and added, “I wish I could find a way to get you and Jon together. You two complement each other’s natures and skills, and would make a powerful team. Additionally, you are in the markets he must pursue, and you understand the service delivery processes he needs to develop. Jon has the technologies you need to embrace, and expense structures that make more sense.” I expressed that I wasn’t so sure that an entrepreneurial adventure in Alaska’s protracted economic decline was a good idea. Marv explained, “Economies always recover. Weak players will present opportunities for acquisition. The first half of a good transaction is buying low. Coming out of this recession, a team with an ability to solve business problems could build market share, and real value.”

I wasn’t convinced, so Marv decided to tell a story. “Tim, on our last journey down the Gulkana we talked through the fundamentals of whitewater rafting. Whitewater rafting at first is a bit counter-intuitive. It certainly isn’t about pointing the bow where you want to go, downstream, and using your oars to get you there. In fact, that would be a disaster. Instead you point the bow toward the shore, the most obvious obstacle you are trying to avoid. A raft is to the river’s current as a sail is to the wind — so instead you use your oars to position your raft to the river’s current. Finally, in whitewater rafting you try to anticipate three or more obstacles ahead. This means you position your raft to solve the second and third problem, not just the first. This is done by maneuvering forward and back, executing a pirouette, and scissoring the oars to point the bow briefly downstream to thread a needle or ride a rooster-tail. Executed effectively, one S-curve can effortlessly position your raft for the next; and you and your crew will successfully avoid the rocks, the holes, and sweepers.”

Then he brought the lesson home. “Most successful service businesses are about positioning effectively to the market and addressing obstacles to growth and profitability. The largest and most obvious risk, business failure, is actually no risk at all if your timing is right, you have a plan and good team that can execute, and adequate capital. There is a significant opportunity now. Information technology is going to touch every process of every business and institution. IT will be more open, more connected, and more accessible. The new industry leaders driving this agenda are already emerging. The successful service entrepreneurs will discern what the marketplace has voted for quality, excellence, performance or value. The shape of the price curves as the industry moves from proprietary to industry standard are known: Product prices will decline, and services rates will go up. Firms with project management and technology skills that can catalyze change for their clients will be in high demand.”

Marv wrapped up his case. “You are 31 years old, have what seems an unlimited font of energy, and an overabundance of confidence. You have apprenticed for nearly a decade working for a Fortune 50 firm. You are a risk taker — an intrapreneur. While doing so you have learned from failures and successes, and developed the necessary level of business maturity. Don’t underestimate the opportunity found at the end of a deep recession and the beginning of an industry shift.”

We went back to tightening the belts on the rowing frame. Professor Andresen’s message to me was clear: the time was now. All I needed was a business plan, access to capital, and the right partner.

©2009 Ancala Equity Partners / Timothy P. Fargo all rights reserved
Next Week: Designing the company for the long term.

The Beginning of the End-Game

“Even the violent end, the matador on his toes, sighting along his blade, the drop of the cape, the sword buried in the bull’s shoulder to the hilt, the blood on the sand…had a strange, primordial attraction…”
Sometimes the Bull Wins

In late May 1997, our board held a meeting at the Willard Hotel in Washington DC. Board member Bob Hatfield, the former president of the Alaska Railroad, had traveled more than 20 hours to DC from Belo Horizonte, Brazil. The logistics of attending our board meetings were challenging from his new home in Brazil. For years a disciplined attendee and valued contributor, he had missed the prior two board meetings. As the president of a Brazilian railroad, Hatfield was wrestling with a new role, a new culture, and Brazilian Portuguese. As we gabbed away prior to the board meeting’s start, a usually expressive Hatfield stared in silence at his talkative associates with an uncharacteristically blank expression. When I finally asked, “Robert, are you all right?” he deadpanned, “I hadn’t heard this much of a familiar language spoken in months…I’m just adjusting to my ability to comprehend!” Then out came Hatfield’s hearty laugh, and the reunion was on.

It was an exceptional moment in the history of our firm. The information contained in the preliminary board packet was all up beat. Led by one of our best executives, our host branch delivered an outstanding presentation. The rest of the agenda was full of good news. We had paid off a convertible subordinated debenture early. The launch of our sixth and newest branch had begun in earnest, and our seventh branch was on the drawing board. Our quarterly results were strong, and our financial position excellent and getting better.

Moreover, I had a big announcement to make. Our franchisor’s newly emplaced president had approached me with a serious entreaty to immediately begin negotiations to buy our firm. This was fabulous news for the board. Although we had long been interested in being acquired, we sensed it was important that they approach us first. Historically we had been one of their most award winning and most closely allied franchisees. Yet, our franchisor had now clearly prioritized the acquisition of firms less affiliated. For over a year they had been forward integrating into our channel, and had not expressed a recent interest in our firm. We began to believe that in our franchisor’s view, our effective relationship had made our firm a low acquisition priority. Why should they buy an alliance that they already controlled?

In the months preceding this meeting, we had worked out a set of steps to change the status quo and unsettle the relationship. First, in a low key but obvious fashion, we developed a plan to go public and began to execute systematically on the plan. Then we opened our two newest branch offices in markets where our franchisor had major initiatives: the first adjacent to one of the franchisor’s owned-branches, and the second near one of the franchisor’s financially sponsored locations. After that, we leaked that we had engaged our franchisor’s competitors in a bid process to determine our primary source of supply. Our last step was to dramatically eliminate their conversion options by paying off our subordinated debentures early; thereby limiting them to a 19.9% minority stake in our firm. With each step, we reaffirmed our relationship, but acted increasingly disaffected. However, the bravado aside, our stratagem of visiting this sequence on the relationship seemed as if it was having little to no effect. Worse yet, we were running out of ideas to give them cause to initiate the acquisition conversation.

Just at the point we had become concerned, our franchisor made their move. We now had our Letter of Intent and would soon be deep in negotiations. To further unsettle our franchisor, after they announced their interest to buy our firm, we recommended that their board seat be temporarily vacated. We argued that there were potential conflict of interest liabilities if that seat remained filled during acquisition negotiations; and they agreed.

As we walked through the discussion and decisions at the Willard Hotel, our board was visibly delighted with the news. With negotiations now ready to move forward, it was clear our firm was on the brink of its greatest opportunity. We knew also that we had our most difficult challenge ahead — fighting through an exit game with a Fortune 500 firm’s executive team. Nevertheless, that would all wait for later. We could not help but savor the moment.

After a rigorous strategy session with the board, that night at Sam and Harry’s Restaurant, all spouses and board members settled into a private room. Sam and Harry’s signature service took over. The meal was spectacular and the conversation a raconteur’s delight. Frank Danner was delivering one witty tale after another, and Bob Hatfield was not far behind. Susan Hatfield joined in with her humorous stories. The tears of laughter were flowing as well the wine.

Sam and Harry’s assigned a maitre’d to orchestrate the service for our private dinner. He was excellent, and his wonderfully thick French accent added a distinctive charm to the service. In the midst of all the fun, I noticed our maitre’d’s behavior. During an anecdote by any dinner guest, he seemed to drag a leg to stay in the room. He would find a fork to move, napkin to pick up, or wine glass to fill — until a punch line was delivered — then he would dash out quickly and return before the next story began. I finally caught his timing, and asked if he “enjoyed a good humorous story?” His eyes lit up, and he impishly said, “May I” as he pointed to the front and center of the private room. Then our maitre’d, with the encouragement of the entire room, took the “center stage” and told this wonderful tale…

“An American, who enjoyed exploring cultures and custom, was visiting his Spanish business client in Pamplona. He was invited to join his friend on a balcony at the Plaza de Toros, the bullring, for an evening of the “National Sport of Spain.” At the bullfight, the American was caught up in the pulse of evening; the enthusiasm of the crowd, the choreographed tradition of the battle between man and beast, where the grace and courage of the matador was juxtaposed against the raw power and animal instincts of the bull. Even the violent end, the matador on his toes, sighting along his blade, the drop of the cape, the sword buried in the bull’s shoulder to the hilt, the blood on the sand…had a strange, primordial attraction that the American visitor could not begin to explain.

The Spaniard recognized in his friend and client a passion for the sport that escapes most American attendees. In recognition, he invited his American guest to a very exclusive “after-fight” celebration, “Los Festejo de los Aficion,” at the famed Hotel Montoya. The dozen or so select guests, aficionados, were invited to a special banquet room. Once there, the superb preliminaries led to the grand main course.

However, when the servers arrived, the American was shocked. The main course looked awful, and over-large, and the course hung over the serving platter gracelessly. His Spanish friend explained that at this traditional meal, the cojones of the “defeated one” were served. The American braced himself. Yet, on tasting the main course he found it was most delicious. He asked for seconds…and then thirds. Relieved, the Spaniard honored his friend with a toast and an open invitation to return to Pamplona at his pleasure — to the Plaza de Toros and to Los Festejo de los Aficion.

A year later, the American returned to Pamplona accompanied by the president of his firm. He could not get the fights and the “after-fight” celebration out of his mind, and built his travel partner’s anticipation as he raved about this strange and wonderful traditions of the ring and the exotic food. Travel delays prevented their attendance at the first night of bullfights. Fortunately, the Americans still had the after-fight celebration at the Hotel Montoya to look forward to.

Upon arrival at the Montoya, they were shown into the exclusive dinner gathering, where their Spanish host was most gracious, and the aperitifs prepared them for the preliminary courses that followed.

Finally, the main course arrived. Once served to center table and the covers were removed from the platters, the American guests were taken aback. Instead of the overlarge, “hanging-off-the-platter” main course, the course was very small, smaller than a large fisted-hand, and certainly not enough to feed the dozen guests. Disappointed, the American said to his Spanish host with concern, “What is this?” And then the Spaniard, shrugging his shoulders, gently explained, “I’m so sorry, but…a veces gana el toro…sometimes the bull wins.”

On the delivery of the punch line, our room erupted in laughter. Even with all the merriment, the relevance of this story struck me. Throughout the evening, the inescapable subtext was that our most formidable business challenge – the exit process – lay ahead. We knew we would have to contend with an ominous mix of elements. While our potential acquirer waved in front of us this entreaty of acquisition, their policies and actions were increasingly aggressive and a risk to our firm’s welfare. By their forward integration, our franchisor, our market partner, was quickly becoming a direct competitor. We had been left no choice but to counter their moves and demonstrate we posed a danger. It seemed clear that we had entered a choreographed competition, the business equivalent of the Plaza de Toros. The maitre’d’s story became our metaphor. Much like the bull facing the matador, we knew if we tired, our franchisor could soon be sighting along their blade, and dropping the cape.

As the evening was ending, I stood, raised my glass, and proposed a toast, “To the bull — because at times the bull wins.” Then, all those around the table responded enthusiastically, “To the bull!” In the end, the maitre’d’s anecdote was prophetic.

©2009 Ancala Equity Partners / Timothy P. Fargo all rights reserved
Next Week: Back to the beginning — positioning to the current.

Breakthrough

“Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.”
Thomas A. Edison

 

In 1986, W. Michael Blumenthal was the chairman of Burroughs Corporation. At the time, Burroughs was a leader in information technology products and services.  Blumenthal had served as the 64th Secretary of the Treasury in the Carter administration, and in 1986 his signature was still on many of the dollar bills in our pockets.  In his role as Burroughs’ chairman, from time to time he flew over to the various countries in the Asia Pacific region from the firm’s “World Headquarters” in Detroit, Michigan.  The refueling spot for the corporate jet on the Chairman’s trips was Anchorage, Alaska.

 

In the mid-80s, I was a young general manager responsible for Burroughs’ Alaska office. Upon my arrival at my new station from Fresno, California, I found the Alaska office struggling.  In a very short period of time, the office had suffered multiple branch leadership transitions. The team was in the midst of a highly visible pre-litigious project at Anchorage Police Department.  The FDIC and the FSLIC were rapidly closing many Alaska banks, credit unions, and savings and loans in the aftermath of the oil price collapse and the S&L crisis.  Unfortunately, many of these financial institutions were Burroughs’ clients.

 

Burroughs’ Anchorage office had a colorful history that had typecast the branch.  In its not-too-distant past, the office endured a front-page news embezzlement scandal.  The embezzlement conviction landed the former Burroughs’ branch manager and others in jail.  Notwithstanding Alaska’s remarkable communities, unforgettable people, and stunning scenic beauty, within the corporation the Burroughs Alaska branch was rumored to be a “career Siberia.”

 

Despite its past and present challenges, at 29 years old I jumped at the Alaska office promotion simply because of my love of both business and outdoor adventure. Not surprisingly, a rumor persisted that I had been sent to Alaska as a comeuppance for a political miscalculation.  The story was that I had angered my district manager in Sacramento.  My branch manager and I had taken a CSU Fresno grant request that I had designed to our DM. When the he rejected the idea, I sent the university’s proposal over the DM’s head to executives in our regional office in Irvine, CA, and failed to mention the rejection.  There at the Burroughs Western Region office, the university grant request for a $600,000 4th GL computer lab was enthusiastically approved under the assumption that it had first been vetted and approved by the District.  Supposedly my DM vowed there would be consequences.  Although the reality was he had long before forgiven my indiscretion, the story persisted — Fargo was sent to a perpetually troubled branch, a career dead-end…the backwater of Burroughs Corporation.  

 

To some in Burroughs, the Anchorage station may not have been the fast track, but then the Burroughs chairman had a Pacific Rim initiative.  W. Michael Blumenthal traveled via the corporate jet to Asia-Pac countries with Reto Braun, the corporate officer responsible for that region.  To the corporate executives, the reason for the stop in Anchorage was practical: refuel, perhaps arrange a quick tour into the countryside, find a good restaurant for the traveling party, or discover a good deli to keep the corporate jet well stocked for the flight to Japan.  To me their stopovers presented an opportunity of a lifetime. 

 

One day Blumenthal’s executive assistant, Curt Girod called me at my office in Anchorage. Curt was the rising star from Burroughs’ Western Region that had been promoted to the Office of the Chairman.  He informed me that the Chairman, his wife Barbara Bennett, and Reto Braun would like to spend the day and evening in Anchorage.  Curt requested that I set up a quick tour of the countryside, and he extended a dinner invitation at the Hotel Captain Cook.  At one point during the tour of the wilderness around Anchorage, Braun and Blumenthal marveled at the peaks of the Chugach mountain range out of Eagle River and Palmer.  Blumenthal wondered aloud what would cause mountain climbers to seek those summits.  Then he answered his own question and said, “I probably understand the drive to reach the top more than most.  After all, isn’t that what one tries to do with a company in an industry.” 

 

That night at the Hotel Captain Cook, one of many interesting questions Blumenthal asked me during dinner was, “First, what do you consider the greatest success of your young career — and then what has been your greatest mistake?”  Boy did that question cause my heart to skip a beat.  What a question for a 29 year-old coming from a man who had escaped Nazi persecution in Germany by moving with his family to China in 1939, survived the trauma of war in China, then reached the heights of academia, government, and corporate leadership at Crown Cork, the U.S. Treasury, Bendix, and now Burroughs.  After what seemed a century-long pause for thought, I told him I could answer it all with one story.  Then I shared my views of the influence campus relationships could have on the business community and market opportunities, and provided a few quick details of my 4th GL computer laboratory initiative at CSU Fresno.  He interjected a few comments about his collaborations with the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor.  Then I shared the lessons I learned on approval process, and not getting too far out in front of my management lines of support with unendorsed ideas.

 

Blumenthal thought carefully about my comments and then to my relief said, “That was a wonderful story.”  He advised me to never worry too much about failing or upsetting others when demonstrating initiative.  He said the biggest problem he saw in young leaders was a lack of initiative, and therefore he was not apt to criticize too much initiative.  He said the lab at the University of Michigan had many similarities, and he liked the idea.  He advised me to continue to be creative and aggressive in my new role in Alaska.  And Reto Braun then added, “Of course be creative; keep your feet moving all the time. Burroughs doesn’t need field managers we need initiative leaders in the field.”  And then he leaned forward and added, “However…next time I would suggest you find the words to gain your district manager’s support!”  And then he patted me on the shoulder and laughed, and everyone laughed along with him.

 

The chairman’s visit was a stroke of fortune, and a good way to end my first year in a branch leadership role.  For a brief time, while the visit was being planned, I felt like the most connected guy in the Western Region of Burroughs.  It seemed my district and regional leadership paid special attention and that the attention lingered for many weeks after the visit by Blumenthal and his staff.  The PR gave me the confidence to be creative.  One initiative that made a difference was a timely $400,000 computer lab grant for the University Alaska Fairbank’s School of Management.  The grant request was expertly crafted by the very able Mike Rice, dean of UAF’s School of Management, and Marv Andresen an award winning SOM professor.  The request received the enthusiastic approval of Burroughs’ district, region and World Headquarters, and was approved just in time to affect the School of Management’s first AACSB accreditation.  The chairman’s office was sent a copy of the grant request, and Burroughs World Headquarters sent the executive responsible for higher education, Sidney Adkins, Ph.D., to dedicate the UAF computer laboratory.  Needless to say, the university leadership and faculty, and Dr. Adkins knew how to cut a ribbon and made it a day and evening to remember.

 

I was subsequently named “Alaska Business Leader of the Year” by the UAF’s School of Management; an honor I will always cherish.  Undoubtedly the recognition was influenced by this example of campus and community relations. The lab initiative provided priceless PR value, and the university relations opened numerous new market segments.  A significant turnaround soon came with Alaska’s improving economy.

 

By early 1988, Burroughs and Sperry merged to form Unisys.  The Alaska branch’s performance earned it the recognition as one of the top offices in the company.   We received a plaque and a stand-alone trophy that represented our team’s excellence – one of only five branches in the country to be recognized at that level by the Unisys Chairman and CEO, W. Michael Blumenthal.  On the letter signed by the Chairman there were a few handwritten lines near his signature regarding his memories of the visit to Alaska and our dinner and conversation at the Hotel Captain Cook.

 

The cache these successes produced was translated into a new business.  I left Unisys, and Jon Peacock and I became partners in a firm being carved out of an acquisition by GCI, an Alaska-based long distance carrier, and video and data communication service leader.  We gained a workable loan package from the state’s largest bank, and Jon and I and a team of 43 associates headed off into our business future. Ten years later, our firm had grown to seven offices covering Alaska to Arizona, and the Bay area to the mid-Atlantic. Our revenues grew to a quarter of a billion, and our initial team of 43 employees expanded to over 1150 associates strong.  At that point our firm was acquired by a Fortune 500 company.

 

Alaska remains a combination of remarkable communities, unforgettable people, and stunning scenic beauty.  It was because of the people I met there and worked with that the so-called “career Siberia”  instead became my career breakthrough.

©2009 Ancala Equity Partners / Timothy P. Fargo all rights reserved
Next Week: A quick glimpse at the end-game, so we can then “begin with the end in mind”.

Four Things that Matter

“We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give.”
Sir Winston Churchill

Over the last two decades, I have had the privilege of spending many weeks on demanding long-distance backpacks in the Rockies, Sierras, the Grand Canyon, and in Alaska with young scouts and their fathers. With well over a thousand miles logged on trails together, and sitting around many a campfire, you learn something about your trail companions. From the early ages of 11 up through 18 and beyond, these boys slowly emerge into outdoorsmen capable of leading a trip into the wilderness. And soon enough, they are young men heading off into a variety of education and career pursuits that follow. From this perspective, I have gained abundant confidence that the seemingly intractable problems of our times will be little more than a disappointment curve once the next generation gets involved in developing solutions. 

I have a favorite photo from the first day of one of those 60-mile wilderness adventures. The photo captures a group of scouts standing tall, at an inspirational overlook that they had to earn themselves to by a very difficult uphill climb. Not surprisingly the photo was taken at a place in the Sierra Nevada range called “Inspiration Point.” Below Inspiration Point you can see the San Joaquin Valley and in it the farms and cities, the comforts in a way, that we had left behind for the week to come. In the background is an endless, crisp blue sky – a blue that you only see when well above 9,000 foot elevation. In the distance are spectacular Sierra vistas. That far off scenery is actually the journey the scouts would soon undertake. The photo shows the ridges and peaks that lead off to Maggie Mountain and Sheep’s Pass. Beyond that the Kaweah Basin is in view. One can pinpoint the Blossom Lake cirque; and imagine that just beyond Blossom is Lake Ansel Adams. You can also distinguish the valley carved by the Little Kern River that leads to Broder’s Cabin and Mineral King.  Above that valley and to the right is Silver Lake and Shotgun Pass which for many years served as our far-fetched goal. You can read on these scouts an expression of satisfaction at getting to the top of a grind, and undoubtedly getting that pack off for a brief rest. And having been at Inspiration Point many times in my life, I know we each look forward with anticipation to the journey ahead, as we view it from our distant vantage point.

I was at a similar vantage point in the mid-70s.  My pursuit of a college degree was just underway, and I headed out for one last 60-mile trek as a scout with Mr. Wheatman.  Al Wheatman was an insurance executive, an attorney, a scoutmaster, and at the time our long-serving “Mountaineering” Explorer Post advisor. Late one summer night near Hell-for-sure pass, Al and I sat alone around the dying embers of our campfire, under a brilliant canopy of stars. He asked about my college plans and career objectives, then he listened as I outlined my ambitions.

Before we doused the fire, he asked me to remember what he was about to say. He started slowly with emphasis and said, “Never lose sight of what we are all really working toward — whether in college, in our career or life in general. You won’t measure your success by the size of your bank account or by your material possessions. Even your achievements won’t stand alone.” Then he added, “Goals are critical. Just like on this trek, the trailhead is important. However, it is the journey that is foremost among the lasting joys. Therefore be careful how you get to where you are heading.”

Then Al’s voice rose along with his four fingers. He said, “There will only be four things in your life’s journey that will matter:
• Integrity,
• Competence,
• Higher purpose,
• And how much you love unconditionally.”

He repeated:
• “Act always with honor, and avoid sharp practices,
• Study hard and become trained – then competent,
• Stay grounded to a higher purpose, and
• Love unconditionally and thereby serve by making a difference in the lives of others.”

To make sure I got it, he later wrote it to me in a letter. He knew with me learning was a process grounded in frequency.

By his expressions and deeds, Al Wheatman demonstrated his final point. As business leaders, professionals, and community members, we have have an obligation to take time to listen patiently around the glowing embers of a fire, or the metaphorical equivalent, and pass the message on of honor, quality effort, duty, and service to others.  Every business professional I know who embraces this responsibility with both commitment and enthusiasm is the first to admit that they are the ones most affected by the effort.

©2009 Ancala Equity Partners / Timothy P. Fargo all rights reserved
Next Week: “Intrapreneurs” can become entrepreneurs.