She was right of course, Jeffrey thought. Ed Easton had been many things to many people – founder, visionary, and consensus builder – but to describe his personality nearly everyone used words like friendly, down home, accessible, and genuine. There would have been no place for bodyguards in Ed Easton’s world. Yes, Ed had been trusting and trustworthy, but certainly not charismatic. Like many very intelligent people, he was oblivious to his personal appearance: overweight, wearing outdated eyeglasses and recycling the same sports coat and two stained ties all season long. In Ed’s case it was his caring eyes and his friendly smile along with his brilliant ideas that made the man – not his clothes or his physique. Still, thought Jeffrey, if Ed Easton were alive and leading the company, he probably would have run the place into the ground by now. Sure he was trusted and loved, but he was no businessman – at least not like Jeffrey. Easton was just too nice a guy; too focused on the whole social ethics thing. The concept of watching out for the good of all mankind just didn’t have a place in the for-profit world – at least not in this era.
In fact, the need for more acute business acumen had been a decisive factor when Ed Easton transitioned to chairman emeritus and Andrew Heath took over as CEO. Andrew had been the company’s chief legal counsel. He was a quiet man – very cerebral. But he also had a quick temper that showed itself infrequently yet memorably. His anger was absolutely not something you wanted to experience first hand – and definitely not more than once in a lifetime. Andrew had been chosen to lead the company because his contract negotiating skills and land lease/purchase strategies were both cunning and cutting-edge. The Easton board of directors agreed unanimously that Andrew Heath was the right CEO to grow the company to the next level of land and property holdings. He held the position for nine years, until he turned sixty-five.
When the time came for Andrew to announce his retirement, there were three possible inside candidates for CEO and they each wanted the job.
Jeffrey Elkins had proven himself as the serious numbers guy who knew when a deal made financial sense and when it didn’t. He would walk away from what others saw as an attractive opportunity when he couldn’t make the financials look as good as the property – and he had never been wrong. Elkins was legend for his unwavering good business sense.
At the other end of the spectrum, Don Asher had earned his reputation as Easton’s community liaison. Don was friendly and gregarious. He golfed with developers and played tennis with residential builders. He was the person to know if you needed tickets to a Redskins playoff game or a sold-out Jimmy Buffet concert. It was Don’s picture that appeared in the papers presenting the latest big check corporate contribution to a local foundation or nonprofit. And it was Don who willingly participated in area fundraisers as speaker, auctioneer, or master of ceremonies. Once he even dressed in drag for a fashion show to raise money for a good cause. Which, in the end, is exactly why everyone knew the next Easton CEO wouldn’t be Don Asher. He was fluff, not substance.
Simon Miller was the executive to watch at The Easton Company. If Don Asher was the guy everyone wanted to hang out with, Simon Miller was the person everyone else wanted to emulate, work for and see succeed. He was well loved and respected. Of the three candidates for next CEO, Simon was the one who actually lived in the local community. He was active in his children’s schools and activities, his church, and in a long list of community organizations – not because he felt he had to be there for his job, but because he loved his community, his work, and the founder of the company he worked for. It was Simon who had inherited the company vision from Ed Easton. Simon was wise and compassionate. He was the champion of good causes; and among his fellow executives Simon was the sole advocate for company employees.
Everyone looked first to Simon when there was a company-wide issue to be decided. He had the best global perspective for advancing projects and resolving problems. From the seats around the board table, Simon was the obvious choice for succession. After all, Jeffrey could continue supplying the acute business insight even after Simon was named the new CEO.
Of course Jeffrey didn’t see it that way. In his mind Simon was too sensitive; wore his heart on his sleeve too frequently. In fact, in Jeffrey’s opinion, Simon was too much like Ed, putting employees and the community first and stockholders second. That sort of thinking was for nonprofits, not publicly held corporations like The Easton Company. Jeffrey knew that no one had any particularly warm feelings toward him. Still, he saw himself as the logical choice. With the recent growth in the company’s holdings, it was time to turn Easton into a serious profit maker and he was the person to do it.
Weeks went by, providing the candidates plenty of schmoozing opportunity with board members at exclusive locations. All indications were pointing to Simon Miller as the next Easton CEO, and Jeffery could feel the sea change in his dealings with his peers and the board. Still there was no announcement about Andrew’s successor.
Then a terrible thing happened:
EASTON HEAD SIMON MILLER DIES IN CRASH
WASHINGTON (FNS) – Simon R. Miller, 47, president of The Easton Company, died early Friday morning when his private plane crashed near Atlanta.
According to an Easton spokesman, the plane suffered engine failure and crashed near Atlanta’s DeKalb-Peachtree Airport. Miller had been vacationing on Jekyll Island over the Labor Day Weekend with his family and was returning to Washington for a business meeting when his plane went down. No one on the ground was injured….
The company and the community went into mourning. Everyone had loved Simon Miller and he had been authentically involved in the fabric of his community – the same community that The Easton Company had founded and developed. The local obituaries ran with the assumption that Simon Miller would have been Easton’s next CEO. Amidst the eulogizing, Jeffrey Elkins could barely contain his anger; however, he quickly concluded that he was now the only obvious choice for CEO succession. After Simon’s private funeral, his family held a very public memorial service that had to be rescheduled at an outdoor location because no auditorium, church or other venue in the community was large enough to hold the anticipated crowd of mourners.
Following a full month of silence on the topic, Andrew Heath postponed his retirement for a year before unceremoniously turning the company over to Jeffrey with the board’s blessing. During that year an elementary school, a street and a library were renamed for Simon Miller, and within twenty-six months the Simon R. Miller Endowed Chair of Community Development was established at the University of Virginia. Jeffrey took charge of The Easton Company feeling both overlooked and underappreciated by all, and some portion of those emotions never left him.
Fifteen years after the tragedy, the Friends of The Easton Company couldn’t help but revisit what might have been. What if Simon Miller had lived instead of dying in that plane crash? Certainly, Elkins would never have become CEO, and the sale of The Easton Company would never have happened.
A Gift From Ed
Ed Easton was still chairman emeritus when Jeffrey Elkins was named CEO of The Easton Company. On that day, Jeffrey received a hand-delivered linen envelope with “Jeffrey” penned in green ink across the front. Inside the envelope he found a formal note card with the phrase “a line from Ed” embossed in the lower right hand corner. The message within was written in Ed Easton’s distinctive green felt-tip scrawl:
Congratulations and all good wishes for the continued success of the company. Don’t screw it up.
– Ed
P.S.
I’m having a little something special made for you to mark the occasion. It will be along in a while. Hope you enjoy it.
Although curious about the “something special,” when nothing arrived that week Jeffrey decided whatever Ed had contemplated sending had slipped the old man’s mind.
Fifteen weeks later, Jeffrey’s secretary received an overseas phone call. It was from a furniture company in Milan advising that a special order for Jeffery Elkins was ready
to ship. The shipment was scheduled to arrive in the States in about ten days via white glove delivery. At first Jeffery was certain the message must be a mistake. He had Gloria, his secretary, call back to confirm. It was then Gloria learned the order had been placed by Ed Easton. No doubt some odd little lamp or unique writing desk, Jeffrey thought. That would be the kind of thing Ed would choose to send.
In the weeks after Jeffrey became CEO, his wife’s New York interior designer had decorated his new office. It contained a wonderful collection of eclectic but tasteful eighteenth-century post-colonial and western expansion American furnishings appropriate for an executive suite. Jeffrey chose to display a few favorite pieces of original art from The Easton Company’s art and artifacts collection. In particular, two original Leroy Neimans added a touch of excitement and color to the otherwise staid décor.
Jeffrey was out of town when Ed’s gift arrived. Gloria was appalled when the deliverymen carted the huge crate into Jeffery’s office. She cautioned the unpackers to use care not to disturb or mar the other fine antique pieces already placed in the room. Once the packing materials were taken away and the men departed, what remained was a small, custom-made Italian leather sofa.
The piece was from the Galaxy line of a top name Italian furniture designer – a throwback to 1960s modern styling. The supple leather was of the highest quality in a pale shade of butter yellow. The sofa sat where the movers had placed it – angled off to the right of Jeffrey’s desk, wedged between a Hepplewhite sideboard and a Goddard tea table.
Gloria felt ill just looking at the thing. It reminded her of a melting block of reused lard. When Don Asher, Easton’s community liaison executive, walked by Jeffrey’s office he joked that the sofa looked like an Italian designer’s interpretation of Captain Kirk’s chair on the Enterprise. Like much European furniture, the sofa appeared invitingly comfortable but in reality it was painful to occupy. The sofa cushions nearly swallowed any occupant and it required a helping hand to free oneself. Don Asher, trying it out at Gloria’s request, found himself seated with his knees close to his ears. As if the sofa’s design wasn’t atrocious enough, Ed had arranged to have the Easton logo branded into the back cushion, which made the thing hideous.
Pushing himself up out of the sofa, Don’s hand slipped between the cushions and he extracted a small envelope, unaddressed and unsealed. Assuming it to be part of the delivery paperwork he handed it to Gloria. Inside was a one-by-two inch newspaper clipping with just a few lines of type. Nothing else. Gloria’s face went white as she scanned it. Without saying a word she handed it back to Don. The clipping read:
If there are ways for CEOs to go to jail, it’s probably through crimes of upholstery – the cover-up will kill you.
– Joseph A. Grundfest
Professor of Law at Stanford University and
Former Commissioner of the Securities and Exchange Commission
In the lower corner of the tiny bit of newsprint was a happy face scrawled in green felt-tip ink.
“Oh man,” Don chuckled as he left Jeffrey’s office, “this is a day I’m glad not to be CEO.”
Gloria contemplated calling Jeffrey to give him some advance warning about the sofa’s arrival, but decided against it. She would rather not deal with his initial reaction by phone, especially if it included instructions to get rid of the thing before he returned. Monday would be here soon enough. Better to wait and let him see it for himself. She sighed loudly just imagining her boss’s reaction. There would be no rush to send a thank you to Ed Easton – that was certain.
On Monday morning, the sight of the sofa stopped Jeffrey at the entrance to his office. His first reaction was a sputter of words and then he stared slack-jawed. He turned to Gloria for an explanation. She had been sitting at her desk holding her breath and looking busy. Smiling weakly she told him, “It’s from Ed.”
Jeffrey’s sigh was audible. He turned on his heel and marched off. “Take care of that, Gloria,” he said without looking her way as he walked past. “I’ll be back after lunch.”
In Jeffrey’s morning absence, Gloria consulted with Jeffrey’s wife, with Don Asher, and with the General Counsel’s office. Then she contacted the in-house maintenance team and had the sofa moved to a far corner of Jeffrey’s office. A courier package arrived at noon. In the box was a large cashmere throw in subtle tones that echoed those of the walls and furnishings in the executive suite. Gloria carefully draped the throw over two-thirds of the yellow sofa as shown in the diagram faxed to her from the interior designer in New York. One of the maintenance crew had already come and gone with a ladder to reposition the angle of two recessed lights, drawing attention away from the sofa’s new location.
When Jeffrey returned after lunch he stopped in the doorway and leaned forward to peer around the corner into his office. Gloria watched carefully without actually staring. She was sure that for a brief moment Jeffrey thought the sofa was gone. And then he realized it wasn’t.
“Alright then,” Jeffrey mumbled, “if that’s the best we can do."
“Yes. Everyone I consulted this morning about the sofa situation agreed. No matter how ugly the sofa is, it can’t go into storage,” Gloria explained. “It must stay in the CEO’s office. It is, after all, a gift from Ed.”
The Architect and the CEO
After the not-yet-famous architect designed The Easton Company’s headquarters building, he went on to design a number of other unique properties for the company including the first entertainment mall in the United States. High-tech for the times, full of big screen theaters, interactive gaming, and futuristic shopping and dining options, it opened in California in the mid-’80s. Looking back, the architect liked to share with interviewers that it was during this “mall period” when he began privately designing more distinctive projects – the kind of signature structures that eventually made him famous. However, architect David Sinclair was still under contract to The Easton Company for a dozen more mundane but quite lucrative development projects. Projects that made pursuing his dreams seem impossibly out of reach.
When Andrew Heath, Easton’s then-CEO, visited David Sinclair in his California studio, he got his first look at some of the dream projects the architect was designing on his own time. These were creations that far exceeded Easton’s portfolio needs and Andrew recognized them as emerging works of genius. In a candid discussion over dinner and drinks that evening, Sinclair shared with Andrew the frustration of being legally bound to years of work he no longer wanted to do. Andrew Heath took pity on the man. The CEO told the architect to follow his calling. Then, with a handshake, Heath promised to release David Sinclair from his future contractual obligations to The Easton Company. Although Andrew Heath was a shrewd negotiator and had been Easton’s chief legal counsel before becoming CEO, he clearly saw that there was little to be gained from a forced relationship with this budding architectural mastermind.
The CEO returned to the East Coast and advised his board of directors that the company would require a new architect. The appropriate papers were drawn up and executed, releasing David Sinclair from any further projects. At the time no one at Easton objected or voiced their disapproval. Sinclair had certainly been innovative, but he had also been a pain to work with. All the same ingredients that made the man a creative architect also made him unpredictable and unmanageable in a corporate environment with tight deadlines and restrictive budgets. Most senior staff members in Easton’s development area were relieved to see him go…at least initially.
Several years later, after David Sinclair completed a bevy of amazing projects that vaulted him to international recognition, the grumblings at Easton began. Nearing retirement, Andrew Heath was branded as the executive who let the most famous architect since Frank Lloyd Wright get away. Heath was dumbfounded at this internal reaction. The same people who years before had endorsed the CEO’s decision were now Monday morning quarterbacks on the severing of the Sinclair relationship, with musings about what might have been.
In an interview with Architectural Digest, David Sinclair was quoted saying Andrew Heath was responsible for “setting me free to become the architect I was born to be.” But within The Easton Company Andrew Heath’s record of accomplishments as CEO would always be tainted by being singularly responsible for terminating the relationship with David Sinclair.
Prior to his retirement, Andrew gave an interview to the Washington Post in which he reminisced about the wonderful projects he and the famous architect had worked on together, mentioning that the company owned nearly a dozen David Sinclair designed buildings including the Easton headquarters building. A short time later, the architect was in town for a dinner at the White House and happened to be interviewed by the same Post reporter who had interviewed Andrew Heath. So of course the reporter mentioned the structures Sinclair had designed for Easton in those early years, asking the architect what made them special.
“Oh those old things,” Sinclair replied with his gap-toothed grin. “There is absolutely nothing special about them. They were done for cash, not from inspiration. During that same period I was designing gas stations and grocery stores.”
Andrew Heath never quite lived that one down. One of his final acts as CEO was to remove the plaque in the lobby of The Easton Company headquarters that had proudly announced to visitors they were entering a David Sinclair building.
Despite David Sinclair’s orphaning his Easton projects, the Easton headquarters building undeniably had one trait in common with many of the internationally recognized Sinclair masterworks – during heavy rains it leaked mercilessly.
Pink Slips and Parting Gifts Page 5
