Fate and Destiny Pt. 01

Dean pulled me aside for a private dinner three days after the listing. "You may find the advice I'm about to give you somewhat contradictory, but I think you should slowly sell off some of your shares in the company – and I emphasize the words 'some' and 'slowly.'" He grinned at me.

"What?" I blurted out with a happy laugh. "I just made millions on what you've been paying me in worthless stock." I tossed a jovial punch at his shoulder as he sat next to me sipping his martini.

Dean laughed and feigned great pain at the contact: "Yes, but things have a way of going up and down. Study the stock market, and notice that diversity is the name of the game. You shouldn't be all in one company, even Triax. Diversify. If you stay in this industry I recommend Microsoft and Oracle. If you want hardware I'd try IBM or even Apple Computer if you want a long shot. In any case, get yourself a good financial advisor; your choice – no strings, and Triax will even pay for it as one of the perks of being a director. We'll talk more. Go slow with this. No big trades. I plan to do the same thing and I'm telling the rest of the management committee the same thing. This isn't about being disloyal to Triax; it's about being loyal to yourself and your family, and your long-term financial security. This is me giving you friendly advice."

So over the next year I got an education from an investment advisor and a newly hired accountant. My business savvy ratcheted up, and I did slowly diversify my holdings into promising long-term stocks. With as much money as I'd made from the initial public offering I encountered a whole new range of problems – and benefits.

I solved any future potential problems with the church's trustees by contributing $250,000 to the building fund. At the time, the amount was more money in total than they had paid me since I'd started to work for the Dillon Church, so to a person they thought they were getting a great deal. The money also salved my guilty conscience since I was putting in longer and longer hours on my corporate work, and less and less on the church work. So far, the subtle shift had gone unnoticed – or at least unmentioned.

Despite our family's efforts to keep our financial windfall quiet, word rapidly spread about the killing the Craig family had made on Triax stock. Money brings not only security, but also fame – or infamy. I was besieged with requests for money from almost every quadrant of my life. Everyone had a hand out. To fend them off, I hired my own secretary. Pearl Winters became the third most important adult in my life behind Margaret and Dean, and in short order became a trusted member of the Craig family. She did it all: scheduling, appointments, travel arrangements, bookkeeping, tax records, and even my personal finances and appointments for Margaret and the children. Pearl also acted as the filter for who got to talk or see me. She could be scary at times when she told begging parishioners that they were in no way to ask for money from me. A few got through her screening, but only the most determined.

The overnight success story about the Dillon preacher resulted in a meeting with Paul Carey, the program director for the local NBC affiliate in Boston. Ministers getting financial windfalls made great news apparently. Paul wanted to get me on television in some way, less as a minister and more as a talk show host that would cover delicate topics facing society. He wanted an upbeat, optimistic, and bouncy show that would attract viewers and potential get syndicated across the network. He also wanted a daily show, and I could clearly see the commitment would be a full-time job that wouldn't allow for any of my three other professions.

After I turned him down and he made some counter proposals, Paul and I agreed to air a once a week talk on Sunday evening that I taped earlier – sometimes doing two or three weeks worth of tapings in one afternoon or evening session. To me it was a substitute for those parishioners that couldn't get to the morning services as well as an opportunity for me to meet some other interesting people. For NBC, they got a dynamic ministerial speaker with a business 'tilt' that drew an audience to a rather ignorable time slot.

To do the television shows, I'd pull out the notes from some of my sermons, dust them off and add some new material, and then show up on the set. Paul Carey matched me up with a hot red head named Marsha Day. Although she dressed conservatively, she always raised some earthy thoughts in my head and no doubt in the heads of the male part of the audience. Marsha would interview me, actually posing questions I would feed her ahead of time, and then I would expand on the subject based on my notes. Often we'd bring in a third person, someone that had done something uplifting in the world and we'd both interview that person. We gave the show a spiritual tilt, carefully staying away from anything deeply religious.

The TV show was a success both for NBC and for me. The network picked up the feed and started to broadcast it selectively across New England and later the Middle Atlantic states. We added some provision for viewers to send in money to the Dillon Free Church, and the coffers of the church started to expand from this new source of revenue.

My counseling work increasingly focused in two areas: anxieties and family counseling, the latter more often than not dealing with marital counseling. Of course, there was some overlap. With the consent of some of my patients I started to collect deeper background information on them as well as probe deeper into their lives. Patterns started to emerge, and about five years after I'd started collecting the stories and data, I published two books. A patient-oriented book called 'Love Postponed' achieved some fame and sold rather well on the trade book market. My companion book was called 'Strategies for Marital Counseling' and was aimed primarily at clergy and counselors advising couples in troubled marriages as well as the textbook market. 'Strategies' went through five printings the first year, and a decade later had seen six editions. 'Love Postponed' went through almost twenty printings making the book a near best seller in its field of self-help books. The research cemented my name in the community as the 'go to' counselor in these areas.

One day while I was working at Triax Systems on some human resource issues, Dean came into my office. "Jon, we've got an ethical dilemma on our hands and you're the guy to solve it."

I know I must have looked surprised. I couldn't imagine what he was talking about. I thought of Triax as the most ethical company in the world. It was why I was there. Dean went on, "As you've heard, we have a major subsidiary in South Africa. It employs over a thousand people – a mix of whites and blacks. The problem is apartheid."

I looked puzzled, wondering what I could possibly do to eliminate that problem – a government imposed separation of the races.

Dean smiled and went on, "There's increasing pressure from our U.S. shareholders to shut down the operation – to put economic pressure on the National Party that runs the country to abolish apartheid. If we choose that option, we could easily move those operations to Europe or Japan, but I want to know what we should do. Just shutting things down doesn't feel like a good choice but I don't know why."

"You want me to go over there and take a look?" I ventured.

"Yes. Take Margaret – I value her opinion on this too. Heck, take Pearl too. She's black and not a bit shy in sharing her opinion. Get her to weigh in on this too." We both laughed; Pearl was almost a foot shorter than me and outweighed me by a hundred pounds. She also had more energy than any three people we knew.

"When do you want me there?"

"How about in two weeks for a few days. By then I'll have an added inducement for you to go." Dean gave me a broad grin.

"What might that be?" I asked.

"The company will own a Grumman Gulfstream III corporate jet by them. I assume you're still interested in flying." He knew this was an understatement of immeasurable proportions; he gestured to the photos of various aircraft that peppered the paneled walls of my office, a couple autographed by NASA astronauts. "Anyway, we'll have a flight crew, but with your credentials you'll be able to fly right seat for part of the trip. Go and enjoy the trip, and come back with some solid recommendations for me and the Board."

Margaret, Pearl, and I all had passports that had never been used before that trip to South Africa. By the time we got there in the new airplane, we'd been processed through eight different countries, and I'd racked up several dozen hours of jet time. A year later, I traded a pay bonus to have Triax send me to jet school so I was fully qualified as a pilot-in-command of the sleek twinjet.

I learned a lot in South Africa even though we were only there a few days. Whites ran the subsidiary, but the real work was being done by a cadre of smart blacks that the company had educated over the past twenty years about computers, programming, systems, and business analysis. There was a major asset there as well as a good example of the races working together, even in the times of increasing unrest and subjugation. Moreover, the South African market for our software was growing, profitable, and accepting of the bi-racial nature of the company there.

Margaret and Pearl met with some of the women that worked in the company, and unearthed some new problem areas: sexual harassment and discrimination, not to mention the racial bias in nearly every company activity. Much to my surprise, Margaret took a leadership role with the females and later when we reported back to Dean and the board. I didn't realize she'd developed into such a capable business person through her work at the church and in some local charities. This was my first view of her in a business assessment, and she distinguished herself.

We left Johannesburg after a four-day visit, flying back up the spine of Africa to Europe, and then across the North Atlantic and back to Boston. I only flew a few of the legs of the return trip. I needed to think about what we'd seen and heard, and also talk about it with Margaret and Pearl.

Dean strolled by my office the morning after my return: "How'd the trip go? What should we do?" He stopped and came to the doorway.

I squinted my eyes at his impressive figure backlit by the morning sun outside the building. I responded, "We keep it, but there are some things that need fixing there."

Dean came in a flopped down on the leather sofa in my executive office suite. He said, "Tell me more."

I began, "You were right it is an ethical question – of huge proportions. We employ about a thousand people there, and ninety percent of them are black. Trickle down economics in that country indicates we're having a positive economic impact on something like twenty thousand people, mostly black – and I'm probably understating the impact. If we shut the operation down, we send an economic hit to that many people. They all just slip deeper into poverty."

I went on, "Dean, the slums in Johannesburg are the most depressing thing I've ever seen. We have no equivalent in this country. They go on for miles. Abject poverty. Some of our people do live there, but if we close that operation we'll drive thousands into that state of life. It wouldn't be right. It would even be like a death sentence for some of them."

Dean nodded authoritatively, and said, "What else?"

"Well, I'll steal some of Margaret's thunder – she's coming in this afternoon to see you about this side of things. There's a sexual harassment problem there too. I'm going to recommend that we do some training there on the problem and be sure everyone knows we don't tolerate that kind of behavior. Some of it is pretty blatant according to Margaret and Pearl. Of course, there's also sexual and racial discrimination, and I don't know just yet what we can do about that problem. Fix one thing at a time I guess. I'm going to work on solutions and some things that'll soften what's going on."

Dean said, "Remember Bud Reynolds from our class; he works with McKinsey. Call him and see what those guys can do to turn around that kind of behavior. I know they helped Chemical Bank on some sensitivity issues in this area." He paused and added, "In the meantime, be prepared to talk to the Board at next week's meeting about this. I'll give you a half hour on the agenda. Margaret too. You make me wonder what's going on with some of our other foreign subs too."

The apartheid, harassment, and discrimination issues became my turf after that. I became a hero to some for the stance I took and that Triax adopted. It would be over a dozen years later before apartheid would fall. I talked about my positions on the three topics on the television show and during some of my sermons. Much to my surprise, I ended up being interviewed for the national news.

The years went by in a blur. I was asked to be on the boards of several Fortune 500 companies. I took each job with pride, as well as with pleasure as my personal reputation ratcheted up. Dean jested that I'd become a 'power broker,' a term I actually enjoyed as a measure of my success.

About six months after the African trip and the news broadcasts, Pearl came into my office just after lunch one day. "Dr. Craig, there's a telephone call I think you should take. It's from ... Kurt Waldheim – he's the outgoing secretary-general of the United Nations." I grabbed for the phone. A week later I'd made trips to UN headquarters and the State Department, and I'd accepted a position on the UN Commission on Discrimination with some of the most notable leaders of the world. Now I was involved in some major ethical issues on a global basis. The slogan of the day ran through my head: 'think global; act local.'

My work in the three areas of my life continued with major successes in each of sectors of my career life: minister, counselor, and director. Somehow, with all that going on, I also fit in the work for the UN, qualifying as a pilot in the company jet, and being a family man into the allotted 168 hours a week.

I openly talked about each area of my life in the others, not violating any confidences of course, but sharing what I learned from one sphere in the others. The UN work gave me new contacts and information to bring to my sermons and the television show; it also lent perspective on some of the issues my counseling clients were facing.

A Crack In the Armor

"There is no armor against fate." – James Shirley

Gary and Laura's vocalization of their marriage problems could have come from any of a dozen textbooks that sat on the shelf behind them, including the ones I'd written. Their marriage had found that classic place where they'd each declared their independent space, built their fortifications, and now resisted being pried out of their comfort zones. Even Laura, the complainant, only appeared to raise the issues to be in the right. The marriage was in jeopardy. Could it be saved?

The pair had stopped communicating about anything other than the mundane daily things that appeared in their lives. At that first meeting I gave them some things to think about, and we did some short exercises to get them started thinking in the right direction. I asked them a series of questions and they openly shared the answers in our first session: name five things about yourself you wish you could change, name five things about your partner you wish you could change, name five things about your partner that you love, and describe the traits of a perfect marriage or relationship.

For me there were no surprises. For Gary and Laura it was insightful, and they again started to learn about each other. I could even feel the energy of the relationship increase as our hour went on. They'd done the right thing by coming to see someone.

As the hour ended, I defined a course of counseling for the two of them, getting together as a couple and as individuals over the coming weeks, to talk about their life, relationship, and anything else that bothered them. They both agreed and we set up a regular time at the end of a weekday in the coming weeks.

As my career became increasing immersed in the corporate work, counseling, and the minister's post, Margaret and my family became a neglected but not unloved part of my life.

Margaret and I had three beautiful healthy children: Joy, Heather, and Patrick. They were good kids, and excellent students. Thanks to the MOSC and Triax financial successes, we put the kids in a nearby private day school. Margaret became a stay-at-home mother, except for the time she put into the Dillon Free Church overseeing the youth program and several local charities. As the years went by, she ended up heading not only several major church programs, but also some of the charities. She had a lot more backbone than I'd thought when we'd first dated and wed – more as each year passed. My focus outside the home resulted in strengthening her and giving her much needed confidence. She could be a real leader.

I managed my private life with Pearl's help, usually ensuring that I was home on weekends through Tuesday evenings. Monday and Tuesday became counseling days. The rest of the week became my 'corporate time.' My ministerial work occupied the weekends and fit around the other two activities. I traveled extensively, often flying the Triax jet when I was working on their mission. As I got into my forties and fifties, a lot of time was also spent in the first class section of various major airlines. I always tried to be home Friday night, a feat that became difficult on some trips, particularly if the weather intervened.

Dean was keeping a similar travel schedule as he ran Triax. We'd often joke about getting brownie points for sleeping in our own beds, even when we got into them at one o'clock in the morning and everyone in the house was fast asleep. Sleep was a commodity in my life I often did without. I'd been blessed with an ability to get along on only a few hours of sleep a night.

I would spend idle evening time at home, in hotel, or seated in an airplane working on my Sunday sermon or a follow-up book to the two I'd published early in my career. Over the years, we streamlined the process. I learned dictation, and would drop a handful of cassette tapes into Pearl's in-basket on Friday afternoon or Saturday morning. She'd type up my sermon notes first so I could edit them, and by Saturday afternoon I was ready to delight the hundreds of people that showed up to be entertained and get a little religion at the Dillon Church.

I wrote three more books on marriage counseling and relationships in a ten-year span. The world seemed to be craving books in this arena. I did a couple of talk shows as a special guest, urged by my publisher to promote each book. Several appearances included a show that Marsha Day, my colleague from the Sunday evening shows, hosted weekday afternoons. She was now syndicated.

Ironically, the first afternoon after we taped her show Marsha Day and I took a room at the Parker House in downtown Boston and made love for four hours.

Our affair was pure chemical attraction. Sex! Our pheromones wafted past the other's nostrils with one message: Mate! As I drove home from our first encounter, I found myself surprised by the lack of guilt. Perhaps it was because extra-marital affairs were so commonly discussed in my therapy office, or their common appearance in novels and television shows. In any case, I went home and continued on as though nothing had happened other than an afternoon and evening of pure pleasure. No one at home even seemed to care or notice my coming or going.