About halfway through the construction of the complex, two midlevel managers had sat down for a cup of coffee at Lincoln Center. One of them produced a wry smile and said, "Well, did you hear? It's almost certain. Howell has settled on a
name
for Plano."
"Depends on your point of view. He's going to call itda-da-da-DAA: The ˜Home Office."
The first manager held up his hand. "But. I
also
heard
he's still considering another name."
The listener did a take and burst out laughing. As others
looked
over, the most famous of the building's nicknames was born. Within hours it was being enjoyed at Lincoln Center watercoolers. Within days it was part of Penney folklore throughout the world. In time, the complex would acquire other monikers as well,
names
like "The Mall without Stores" (used among some
vendors
) and "Versailles" (used among the press). But locally it was usually known as "Legacy" (after the corporate park), while to out-of-towners it was "Plano" (the address). Almost never was it Howell's choice, "Home Office." Despite signs, printed matter, and executive speeches, "Home Office" never really caught on as intended.
Perhaps that was an outgrowth of superstition, a name too cute and cloying for a structure that bothered many. Some imaginative corporate historians have pointed out the dark fate that often
follows
pretentious relocations. The superstition says that if a company erects an edifice in
honor
of itselfand as a reflection of the prevailing management's heightened self-esteembad things are bound to follow. Surprisingly
numerous
examples are then given like the Bethlehem Steel headquarters and the Sears Tower.
This superstition is interesting in view of all the other relocations to the Dallas/Fort Worth area in the latter part of the twentieth century. These included American Airlines, Blockbuster, Burlington Northern, Exxon, GTE (Verizon), Lennox, and Nokia
all
moving into comparatively modest accommodations. Only JCPenney, the area's second-largest business (a
distant
second to Exxon), chose to build a monumental headquarters. And superstitions are always rooted in some moral point. In the case of selfaggrandizing new headquarters, say the historians, troubles follow because managements are so busy preening
themselves
that they
slack
off on day-to-day business.
Mixed Emotions
When Gordon Curry and I arrived at the south rotunda guest desk with two receptionists, I
looked
around in awe as Curry asked for directions. We knew this was one of two rotundas and that a third, the
grand
rotunda (which we had seen from the outside), anchored the symmetrical center of the great building. On our way up to our meeting on this wing's third floor, Curry chuckled and said, "Did you know that, as huge as this place is, there still isn't enough room? Everybody's staying put at Park Central, and I
heard
the credit division's moving into a building near the Aberdeen."
"Maybe they should've just built a cluster of high rises here instead of getting so fancy," I said.
"Maybe so," said Curry, with a shake of his head.
Mike Restaino was a pleasant young man, a
dozen
years
an associate. He had just recently come to Plano after working in stores and
district
and regional offices (he was on the breadth-of-experience track). His background prompted an unpredictable
turn
in the small talk before we got into the assignment. Curry started it with an innocent question. "Well," he said, spreading his hands, "how do you like it?"
Restaino nodded at the question and thought for a moment. "Good and bad."
Curry and I exchanged glances, and then Curry said, "We were just talking. So what's
your
complaint, Mike?"
"Well, guys, I've just come from the stores. And I
gotta
tell you, when most store managers see this palace, they're not going to be too happy."
"Jealous?"
"More than that," said Restaino. "It's almost like the powers that be have no respect."
"How do you mean?" I asked.
"I'll give you an example I keep thinking about. A couple months ago I had a meeting in this store manager's office and a train goes by outside. We had to shout. Then, after the noise, he has to get up and straighten the pictures on his wall." Restaino waved at the complex. "But here
we
are in the lap of luxury. Have you seen the executive suite yet?"
"Not yet," said Curry.
Restaino stood up and nodded for us to follow him. He led us to an expanse of glass lookingto the rightdown upon the cafeteria fountain and the gardens that rose beyond to the parking garages. He motioned the other wayto the left. We looked below at
nicely
placed potted plants arrayed across a wide expanse of special roofing aggregate. This had to be the roof of the cafeteriaalso serving as a visual deck for the
occupants
of the offices stretching around a wide crescent on the second floor below. Restaino motioned. "From right under us all the way around to the far corner on the other side is the executive suite."
"A lot of executives," I said.
"Just a dozen," said Restaino.
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"And people thought Aberdeen was a little plush," Curry said.
"Kennedy and I were down there
yesterday
for a meeting. Everybody has a big
reception
room, a big conference room, and an office that's even bigger. There's also a kitchen, a couple of VIP living rooms, and you should see the boardroom, Gordon." Now he pointed across the broad executive crescent. "And see all the glass at the far corner over there? That's Howell. Someone said six rooms. And look." Restaino gestured at the beautified cafeteria roof, the fountain, and terraced gardens leading up to the brick and
copper
cupola background of the garages. "From down there you don't see people, just water and greenery." Turning to lead us back to his office, he shook his head with a sad smile. "I love this company, but I don't know." He looked at Curry. "What would Mr. Penney've thought about this?"
Not much. The last New York headquarters at 1301 6th Avenue was a tower reasonably
acquired
in the 1960s when the old man was still coming to the office regularly. It had certainly been practical and comparatively modest. Executive offices had been uniform, simple, and not large, and executives used the same elevators and plumbing as everyone else. But things were
certainly
different at the Taj MaHowell in Plano. Without a doubt, the old man would have been highly displeased.
We all sat down again, and Restaino outlined the assignment. Basically, it was to be a speech about JCPenney's constant reinvention of itself, its continuing change to meet new market conditionsas it
related
to changes in the home division.
On our way out of the building, I looked at Curry and said, "I'm a little
confused
on this reinvention angle."
"Yes, it's a problem," Curry said with a smile. "Since it basically doesn't exist."
"I wondered. But you didn't say anything."
Curry chuckled. "What was I going to say? ˜Mike, that's really a stupid idea? I don't know where Kennedyor Mikegot such an idea."
"Maybe from Oesterreicher?"
"No, he's into fixing things, not ideas."
"So, where do I go on this?"
"Well, I can have Carol dig up some history, and then you can see if there's a through-line somewhere, something that
relates
to that stuff Mike gave you on how home is evolving. Make sense?"
"No." Both of us laughed.
"Well, who said it was easy? That's why we pay your rate."