Tampa resident Don Herman died the other day. He was 82. Most folks around here didn’t know him and neither would I had he not become my neighbor three and a half years ago.
But don’t be surprised if there’s an HBO movie made about this guy. He was an intriguing character, and that’s only what I know from the tip of the biographical iceberg and entrepreneurial lore.
I knew him as an obviously smart, very inquisitive sort who learned to love Tampa Theatre. The kind of guy who would, on no notice, call and say: “I see where Gen. Petraeus is speaking at USF. Let’s go. I’ll drive.” And off we went–and that’s, incidentally, how that Afghanistan-update column came about.
Herman grew up in the Depression-era farm town of Aberdeen, S.D., where he would become his family’s main bread winner as a teen. Mature beyond his years, the young Herman combined a notable work ethic with the rural version of street smart. He was said to have the “Tom Sawyer,” smooth-talking sales gene. It would presage a life that would be equal parts visionary, hustler, successful businessman, river-boat gambler and charismatic leader. He could be every negotiator’s bête noire and every employee’s favorite boss.
Herman worked his way through the University of South Dakota, where he earned an engineering degree, and served as a U.S. Naval Intelligence Officer assigned to the National Security Agency. He would go on to make millions as a 1960-70s computer innovator, sell his business to NCR and retire to Florida to live the good life. First to Naples, then to Tampa.
Retirement, however, is a relative term. In Herman’s case, it included the founding of two non-profits, the Corporation for Open Systems and UNIX International, which helped to establish software standards for the international computer industry. Other involvements included the United Way, the Red Cross and the U.S. Women’s Open Golf Tournament, where he was operations chairman.
Herman was engaging, liked telling tales involving back-in-the-day celebrities and was friendly in that never-met-a-stranger way. His friends transcended financial status and social strata. They ranged from corporate execs and captains of industry to his favorite house painter and the church sexton. He was at home in Las Vegas casinos, and he enjoyed opening his home for good causes. He was known to attend latter-day Bob Dylan concerts.
The Herman Touch
Herman was a pioneer in software when the term was foreign to all but the hardest-core tekkies, and the computer universe was dominated by the IBMs, Univacs, Sperrys and NCRs. The company he co-founded, COMRESS Inc., developed and leased proprietary software, a cutting-edge concept in the early 1960s. He would use COMRESS-profit “seed money” to start five other computer-related companies.
His was a commanding, flamboyant, ethical presence, and he was a player–however unorthodox–among players. Herman was known as the tenacious, cocky guy who brought the Plains to board rooms–and then prodded the corporate crowned heads into doing the adjusting.
He was known to pull rank for a good cause–or just because he was really, really impatient. “I’m from the CIA, and I must get on that plane” is a quite literal–and successful–outtake. Stories about his hardball tactics and melodramatic gambits would seem apocryphal, were there not so many.
Here’s one of my favorites.
Back in the ’60s, as the 30-something co-founder, chairman and CEO of COMRESS, he found himself cooling his heels waiting his turn to pitch the information technology officer of a major corporation. The executive was ostensibly busy, but down time for Herman was well past tolerating. Patience was no virtue, time was money and the signs were manifest that he was being stonewalled. He was, he surmised, supposed to leave his card, leave the office anteroom–and never be heard from again. Most folks would have shuffled–or stormed–out.
But Don Herman wasn’t most folks.
He purposefully exited the building, contacted Western Union and dictated a telegram to be delivered to the evasive executive. Everybody reads telegrams, reasoned Herman, because they’re always delivered with an aura of utter importance, if not outright urgency. This one was no exception. It read: “There’s a man in your anteroom who has waited 4 hours to see you. If you don’t see him, your company will lose a chance to save several hundred thousand dollars.”
The ploy worked. Herman returned and was summarily granted entree. And a contract.
By all accounts, the episode was vintage Herman. He didn’t take no for an answer, let alone indifference as a response. According to the Book of Herman, challenges were really opportunities for the shrewd, the optimistic and the creative. Solutions always awaited out-of-the-box thinkers, especially those with a vision.
Don Herman was a neighbor and a friend; I wish I had met him sooner. But I look forward to the movie.