Eleanor Taylor Waller 1912 - 2011

Tolstoy may have been right about happy families but when it comes to great wives and Moms, they are great each in their own, often surprising ways. Eleanor Taylor Waller was full of surprises.

• At Taylor’s Grove she rode the tippy barrel horse on Lake Moraine – fully dressed - to the amazement of those cool dudes from Colgate whom its instability had completely confounded; one of those dudes she married.
• They eloped since a senior at Syracuse U. could not be married – more than surprising, to put it mildly, my Taylor and Waller grandparents; her sisters, neighbors and class mates; and probably Dad as well.
• When we moved to Hinsdale and discovered in spring that the “side yard” was a strawberry field, she started canning and set up a fruit stand in front to the utter mortification of her socially awkward seventh-grade son.
• Out of the blue, she took my third-grade sister to buy a bowl of goldfish, “just to spend time with you” she explained years later, giving Carol the gift of a lifelong glow.
• Back in Maryland, she didn’t protest when Dad embarked on a budget backyard swimming pool per Popular Mechanics, nor did she mutter a peep when it turned into a bloomin’ disaster of rusty red water leaking away, followed by noxious algae blooms, mosquitoes and frogs.
• She was determined to hybridize a truly blue African violet. You had to watch where you sat, because there were cuttings in sulphurous eggshell-water sitting on every available horizontal surface in our house.
• We shrugged it off when she said she was saving to buy a greenhouse – until a truck pulled up and unloaded aluminum spars, crates of plate glass, a million bolts and nuts and minimal instructions. Next, the backhoe arrived to bash a hole in my bedroom wall and hollow out a below-grade foundation. Dad and I were conscripted laborers.
• She encouraged Dad to kick over the corporate traces; she becoming President of Door County Sailing; he: Exec. VP; headquarters: Fish Creek; total employment: two.
• When leasing boats and teaching sailing didn’t work so well during winters on Tampa Bay, they bought Beaver Flags. She hired retired ILGWU seamstresses, allowing Dad to hang out at yacht club bars sketching personal burgees on the back of cocktail napkins which she and staff then sewed and sold at exorbitant prices to delighted yacht owners throughout the south. Still the best burgees available.
• She ran Beaver Flags until near ninety, and couldn’t understand it when one of her seamstresses wanted to retire again at 75 or so.
• She took to making wine, this daughter of a Women’s Christian Temperance Union chapter president, terrible grapefruit wine happily bubbling away in carboys filling spare bathrooms and bedrooms until it reached alcohol levels somewhere north of 15%. I always brought a supply of Napa chardonnay when I visited. T-men never did show up.
• She spent a live-aboard year on a 32’ sloop, then was graduated by Dad into a 44’ ketch from Hong Kong; they sailed it in the Caribbean until they could no longer safely handle it alone. So then they homesteaded an abandoned dairy farm and sugar bush in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont, building a cabin and planting an orchard for “future generations.”
• She started quadrennial reunions of the Taylor and Waller clans. Seven cousins, spouses, grandkids, great-grandkids, and even a great-great.
• In spring she held Rays seats and scored games into her late eighties, then during Vermont summers watched the Red Sox Network every game. Playoffs were an agony of conflicted loyalties.
• She was constantly expanding the Vermont cabin “for the grandkids” after Dad died. She played with her bridge group and volunteered at the Barton Library until her mid-nineties. The only project she didn’t fully complete was to build a putting green in the hay field. (And no, she didn’t play golf.)
• No retirement home for her. She designed and built an apartment onto Adrien’s home and lived out her winters there on Tampa Bay, basking in Adrien’s, Edward’s and grandkid Helms’ loving attention.

She loved us all, our spouses and our kids; our misadventures; the dogs -- Cindy, T-bolt, Hubbub, Trouble and Beau; the canaries and parakeets she was always trying to breed; Frisky, the award-winning oyster; her orchids and most of all and forever, Dad. She always told it straight, kept her disapprovals private, and always found in us, herself and the rest of the clan something to laugh about.


Truly, one of the great wives and Moms….

It's the Advertising That Makes Me Feel Old

I’m fit, curious, busy and physically active. I still feel pretty young – until I watch advertising. I watch ads through the eyes of a former chief advertising officer of –at that time – the eighth largest user of TV, as one who wrestled with brand managers, agencies, consumer activists and the Feds over public policy issues like advertising to children; nutritional claims; NBBB, NAB and ANA codes and rules of disclosure. These days, my exposure to television ads is mainly through cable news and special events like the Pack’s Back Sunday. Today’s commercials make me feel old, and after the Superbowl, ancient.

My first question is always to whom is an ad directed? In the case of the Superbowl, one would surmise that the only audiences of interest were twenty-something, arrested development males or 35 year-old males with residual frat boys still lurking within. Crudity, babes, beer parties, talking animals, hot violence and crashing cool cars – the only commercial that seemed to catch fire with message rather than with shallow presentation was “Imported From Detroit” by Chrysler. One can only hope their cars will live up to it; better it had come from Ford, who has already restored some belief in American can-do. And if Chrysler/Fiat delivers, so much the better. It’s a hopeful theme. But for the rest … God, I feel old.

On cable news, it’s the pharmas that own the air – a parade of remedies for maladies for nightmares. And the disclosures: side effects may include excema, palpitations, sudden loss of blood pressure and sexual appetite, occasional blindness and warts.... OMG as my grandkids say. I don’t need to think about all that. Yeah, I know, bodies fall apart suddenly and I’m tempting fate to talk this way.

But so long as I stay away from commercial TV, I stay young... at least in my own mind.

"Investment!" "NO! Spending!" C'mon guys....

Obamians and Boehnerites, childish tribes on either side of the river, screaming taunts back and forth. When are they going to start gathering stones and building abutements for a bridge to meet in the middle?

Let's go to the dictionary: the word investment stems from the Latin investire -- to dress or enrobe. The vest we wear and the priest's vestments are derivatives (that's another kind of investment, now besmirched by Lehman Brothers, but that's a rabbit trail we won't follow.)

As a verb, to invest meant to put on the robes of an office, to become entitled. The investiture of a bishop was the act of enrobing him (not her, Catholics; but maybe her to some Episcopals, but that's another rabbit trail.) Investment was the ceremony, itself.

The first uses of invest and investment as financial terms came in correspondence within the East India Company. The verb, in 1613, "...invested in trading goods." The noun, in 1615, "...made an investment in...." I imagine this usage grew out of becoming entitled to something in return for the investment. (Not until 1860, did he who made the investment become an "investor," or was it a she? (Today, over 50% of investments are owned by shes -- yes, another other rabbit trail.)

What is the "something" that flows from an investment? This is the crux of the squabble between Obama's tribe and Boehner's. One believes in government investing; the other says it's just deficit spending. All my dictionaries (OED, American Heritage, an old Webster II) agree that the purpose of an investment is to earn dividends or realize appreciation in value. Government investing? Will a high speed rail system pay cash dividends to the Treasury or appreciate in value when we sell it to the Chinese? Not. Not judging from the huge government subsidies Japan and France lay out to keep their railroads running.

But Obamians argue that the dividends are indirect -- economic development that yields higher tax revenues over time; lower cost logistics that make our companies more competitive and reduce our balance of payments deficit. These, they say, are no less real than direct cash dividends, just take longer to realize. The dictionaries provide no help in sorting out direct vs. indirect, sooner vs. later.

But investing in undeniably spending. So what? You either save or spend the money you have, whether earned or borrowed. In industry, we "investment spend" a euphamism that makes one sound very wise for taking an intentional loss.

The critical point is not whether investing is or isn't spending. What matters is on what one chooses to spend. School equipment, roads, research labs and the like are tangible assets, stuff that lasts. So is spending on F-22s. Some capital assets may return dividends, indirectly, sooner or later. Eisenhower's Interstate Highways paid huge dividends over the years. F-22s? Arguable.

Sending out unemployment checks, paying Congressional salaries, reimbursing medical costs -- this is not capitalizing anything, no tangible asset is created, but saving lives and minimizing social disruption are undeniably beneficial. And perhaps higher Congressional salaries might get better people in play. (Ah, another rabbit... never mind.)

What they should be talking about is the balance of government spending between capital items and expense items. The White House should send Congress a capital budget and an expense budget. Then we could track the balance year to year. In lush times, there's nothing wrong with borrowing money against future growth in revenues and spending it on capital items that will create that growth. In lean times, better to swing the pendulum toward expense to salve people's distress and smooth bumps in the economic road. And deficits? National debt is useful if limited to a reasonable percent of GDP and if spent on capital assets that promise dividends over time. I know, this is not a new idea and one the economists say is fraught with ambiguities. But mightn't it stimulate more useful discussion than "Investment!" "NO, Spending!" ??

They haven't the courage to talk about the real issue. Instead, they enjoy squabbling over Investment!No!Spending! And indulging in over simplistic, inflexible solutions like a balanced budget amendment. C'mon guys. It's time to grow up and lead, to start using words that stand for ideas, to debate rather than just hurl cliches back and forth ... and yes, it's time to start building that bridge.

The Wreaths Are Still Up

We hardly need more green in this soggy land of cedar, hemlock, and fir but the wreaths are still up on this Western Day of Epiphany, this Eastern Christmas Day. The gingerbread house has been consumed. All else is packed away. Another of the second generation has a Lionel train from grandpa. The house is quiet. All is at peace.

When one is well into their 8th decade, Christmas brings less joy than silent satisfaction, more nostalgia than excitement, a more somber reflective mood while letting it all swirl about him. Not sad; just that he’s been here before, has nothing left to ask of Santa (that Santa has in his power to give,) and too little understanding of children’s and grandchildren’s wants and needs (that he has in his power to give.) And he knows that another Christmas will come rushing at him unbidden and he increasingly unprepared.

A new year. We made much of 2010, for many such a lousy year, for most merely a tolerable one. We spent retirement money on together experiences and will do so again in this, our 20th year of marriage.

May 2011 turn out to be a pleasant surprise for everyone, a year in which we all stay well and do good… keep moving … practice empathy … and follow through on good intentions. Peace, love and laughter....

Blood Alcohol Re-visited

My account of Ann and I acting out our curiosity about to what level an evening out might have driven our blood alcohol (blog post of 13 October) drew much banter at my expense along with some serious chastisements from the worldly-wise. Still curious and now defensive, I found a blood alcohol calculator on the web (www.bloodalcoholcalculator.org) which illuminates some important data. First, notwithstanding my friend's assumption that driving to the police station for a check was prima facie evidence of being over the legal limit -- 0.08% -- it turns out I was legal: 0.066. Aha!

But Ann was not: 0.128. We each had enjoyed a martini at 6:30 and shared a bottle of wine from 8:30 to near 10. It was somewhat after ten when we pulled into City Hall.

The difference is important to keep in mind this holiday season of exceeding good cheer. Women don't metabolize alcohol as rapidly as do men. And yes, body weight makes a difference. Had I been a female at my body mass, my blood would have registered 0.08 -- BUZZER! Had I, as male, been at Ann's svelte body mass, my blood would have hit 0.109 -- BUZZER again, though not as far off as her 0.128.

The moral of this tale for slight, young women: don't try to keep up with the boys as they assail the wassail bowl, or else plan on taking a cab home from the party. Dads of lasses, take note.

Eight Lessons From the Front #8 Find Ways to Serve

This is the final section of a commencement address I have serialized here. I was honored to address the graduating classes of University Center Cesar Ritz, a group of international hospitality colleges in Brig, CH, where I taught managerial marketing for several summers. The speech was entitled Eight Lessons From the Front, summarizing some principles I believe, having learned them the hard way.

#8 Find Ways to Serve
One of the things I have done right in my career is carving out time to be involved with my communities. In General Mills days, I worked in county politics; was active in the Citizens’ League, a non-partisan public policy group; served on the board of the public broadcasting station and, briefly, on the board of the Boys and Girls Clubs. I was a founding board member of the National Council on Children and Television. When I moved to Washington to join Marriott, I served on Sharon Rockefeller’s Corporation for Public Broadcasting task force on alternative ways to fund public broadcasting. In Seattle, I have served on the board of the Pacific Northwest Ballet, was director of adult education at my church, and serve as trustee of a public land trust and a jazz orchestra.

My purpose in naming these is not to pat myself on the back, but to suggest that it is easy to become involved, to contribute your time and talents to your community. But more to the point – it is of value to you to do so. I meet people from very different walks of life, people with whom I would never rub elbows in my corporate world, very unlike in views and values my associates or my clients. To hear their thoughts and perspectives stimulate my thoughts and broaden my perspectives. And that helps me look ahead, be a better and more empathetic boss, grasp what trends and issues are shaping our environment.

Get out of your offices each week or once each month at least, and be of service to some group or organization different from your own. Four Seasons knows that this is important; they expect each member of their hotel executive committees to serve on the board of a community non-profit organization – not for pr or leads to business (yes, there’s that, too) but to develop and broaden their managers.

Of course, the most important group to serve, to devote time to, is your family. Whether spouse or companion or kids or parents, we all have someone to serve who deserves our attention, time and concern. Don’t let work demands, and they are heaviest in the early days of your career, short-change the time and love your family needs and deserves. Tolstoy said happiness is loving your work and loving those for whom you work (and he was not talking about your boss.) I wish I had done a better job of balancing my work, my service and my family – but that’s a very different story.

Serving and loving: this brings us full circle, doesn’t it -- back to the first of my Eight Lessons From the Front --Find Work You Love. Then, Choose the Right People to Associate With; Don’t Manage – Lead; Be Forward Looking; Think Small; Empathize; Execute Relentlessly; and Find Ways to Serve. I hope recalling one or another of these when you are on the brink of a mistake proves of help. And I hope you find in this hospitality industry the satisfactions, the challenges, and the rewards that have so enriched my life. Go forth and make good luck happen.

Eight Lessons From the Front. #7 Execute Relentlessly

This is a serialization of a commencement address I was honored to give to the graduating classes of University Center Cesar Ritz, Brig, CH. It's almost over....

7. Execute Relentlessly
You, especially those of you in master’s programs, have been studying and writing about strategy – strategic planning, competitive positioning, theory of the firm – all that grand stuff. Well, know this: execution trumps strategy. Operation is what counts.

The STP gas turbine race car was a technological strategic advance that would have revolutionized racing. The multi-million dollar STP ran away from the field at the Indianapolis 500, a sure winner -- until it was brought to a halt a lap and a half shy of the checkered flag by failure of a 12 cent rubber gasket in its rear differential. (Then the Luddites of auto racing banned turbines from the track.) Thus ended a brilliant, breakout technical strategy.

At General Mills, we empirically demonstrated to ourselves that in advertising, execution can trump strategy. We tested positioning strategies against one another and could measure relative attractiveness of alternative strategic positions. Then we tested advertising executions of the better alternative positions. What we found is that a great execution of a lesser strategy beats an OK execution of the superior strategy. In effect, the width of variation around strategies is narrower than the variation between poor and outsanding executions.

I believe this principle applies throughout business, especially in our service business that so depends on interactions between people – great execution can outperform a superior strategy competently executed. A poorly located restaurant offering superior quality and service can out-pull a competitor in a superb location. A higher priced offering, within reason, can prevail over low-priced competitors through flawless performance.

Our business depends upon consistent delivery of what the customer wants and needs -- and what your employees want and need to play their part in that delivery. But humans are anything but consistent – right? We all change -- weekly, daily, hourly. You mustn’t assume that once you get it right, it will stay right. Don’t assume that if you have the best idea – the turbine race car or Courtyard by Marriott – that you will prevail. Your job as operator is to execute. Your job as manager is to select the right people and lead them, giving them the vision, the tools, and the motivation so they can and will execute.

Customers change, competitors change, employees change. You must execute and improve continuously. Inspect what you expect and adapt and refine – continuously. Execute, execute, execute relentlessly.