Patriarchal Leadership

Most leaders, including those charged with bringing Florida Atlantic University (FAU) into prominence, aren't fortunate enough to always start at the top they have to start from scratch, attempting to build an unbranded product into a well-known and revered competitor.

FAU had an ambitious, but responsible, plan when it decided to establish a football program. First, in May 1998, it hired Howard Schnellenberger, a man with tremendous credentials in the football world, to lead the way. He was offensive coordinator for Paul "Bear" Bryant's three national championship teams at Alabama in the early 1960s. He resurrected a University of Miami program that, in 1979, averaged fewer than 13,000 fans per game in the Orange Bowl, by leading the team to a national championship and thus capacity crowds in 1983. Schnellenberger then went on to Louisville where his success increased attendance by almost 40 percent, and filled the stadium with standing-room-only crowds.

Before long-term success could be achieved defined as moving FAU to the "big-time" college football division, Division I-A short-term successes had to be demonstrated. Thanks to Schnellenberger's hard work, FAU raised the necessary $10 million from more than 70,000 alumni to start the program and signed some quality recruits for the inaugural 2001 season.

Although Schnellenberger dreamed of 25,000 fans showing up per game, the team averaged a respectable 12,987 in Pro Player Stadium, playing the likes of Division I-AA teams including Slippery Rock, Jacksonville, and Gardner-Webb.

To be considered for the jump to Division I-A, the team has to average 15,000 fans at home games and play at least five home games against Division I-A opponents, which remains a significant obstacle for the school.

The Schnellenberger name means something throughout Florida, the state considered by many as the hotbed for college football recruits. Schnellenberger even suggested as much when he reminded people that 300 kids from Florida go to Division I schools and even if the Florida powerhouses (Miami, Florida State, and Florida) took their fair share of them, he believed there would still be plenty left for him to recruit.

Sure, Schnellenberger also has to compete with the likes of Central Florida and University of South Florida, the only two schools among the 122 Division 1-AA programs in 2000 that drew more than 24,000 fans to their games and have gained fame through alumni including Daunte Culpepper and Bill Gramatica, respectively. However, everyone knows FAU has a distinct advantage: Schnellenberger knows how to build a successful program. Whether that knowledge will translate into success for Schnellenberger whose team endured a very unsuccessful season in 2002 might be another story.

As small or family businesses grow they occasionally outgrow their initial management model. The ownership and management structure that helped launch the company might not be ideally suited to expand the business. Consequently, the need to analyze the old model and perhaps create a new one exists.

In 1846, New England physician Dr. Austin Church and his brother-in-law John Dwight started the first American-made sodium bicarbonate (baking soda) plant in the Church's kitchen. The two went their own ways the following year and formed Church & Co. (which used the Arm & Hammer label) and John Dwight and Company. Fifty years later, the companies merged as Church & Dwight under the Arm & Hammer label.

Although the original use for baking soda was for cooking, flexibility and creativity became the product's key to long-term success when a decline in cooking before and after World War II caused sales to fall. Some organizations fail when they deviate from their core business or competency, but with a legitimate and authentic connection to other aspects of their consumers' lives, differentiation was the key to Arm & Hammer's success in the 20^th century.

In the 1960s, Arm & Hammer ran advertisements that encouraged people to place a box of baking soda in their refrigerators to keep the contents fresh. Numerous other uses were detailed on an Arm & Hammer "versatility wheel" located on the box.

A carpet deodorizer entered the market in 1981 and a cat litter box version followed seven years later. Today, Arm & Hammer has spray room deodorizers, laundry detergents, toothpastes, and gum. In 2002, the company signed Yankees slugger Jason Giambi as a spokesperson for its body deodorant.

Had Church & Dwight management believed that baking soda was only good for cooking, Arm & Hammer would have never emerged as one of America's most recognizable brand names. The corollary here is that just because a company has reached the prime stage, it is not necessarily ideally positioned. Companies must continue to evolve, as did Arm & Hammer. Should a business not continue to evolve and refine itself, it could become the next Converse or Polaroid.

Before Nike sneakers and Air Jordan became ubiquitous with American sports and pop culture, Converse dominated the athletic shoe market. Wilt Chamberlain and Julius Erving wore them. Magic Johnson and Larry Bird also laced them up while leading their teams to NBA championships. Even Richie Cunningham appeared brand loyal to Converse on the hit show Happy Days.

College basketball coaches across America, including high-profile programs led by Crum at Louisville and Bobby Knight at Indiana, had contracts to outfit their teams in Converse shoes. However, the "Made in America" shoes took a hit as a result of the Nikes and Reeboks of the world emerging in the 1980s. Combine these competitors' strategic vision with Converse's messy series of corporate takeovers and it's easy to see why Converse had to file for Chapter 11 bankruptcy in 2001.

After Converse's logo was acquired in a bankruptcy sale, a new holding company led by former sales executive Jack Boys decided to reintroduce the brand. With new spokesmen including Cleveland Cavaliers guard Andre Miller and Minnesota Timberwolves forward Wally Szczerbiak, Converse hopes to make a comeback. The popularity of the retro craze could afford the brand the opportunity.

After being in business for roughly four decades, Polaroid cameras, which could produce a photo in less than a minute, were so popular in the 1970s that the company name came to mean a photograph in much the same way Kleenex means tissue and Xerox means photocopy. However, in the 1980s, less expensive cameras and one-hour photo shops threatened Polaroid's competitive advantages. By the late 1990s digital cameras entered the ever increasingly competitive market. Polaroid had made a concerted effort to evolve, but it wasn't enough. The company rested on its historic past and, in 2001, filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy. In July 2002, 65 percent of Polaroid was sold to One Equity Partners, an investment unit managed by Bank One, for $255 million to help the company reorganize.

When industries evolve and expand, established businesses within those industries must revisit their ability to not just remain afloat, but to compete successfully. Sometimes, if the head of a private organization doesn't want to adapt with the times and conform to the new state of business, he can choose to sell his organization, as was the case with Calvin Griffith and the Minnesota Twins.

When Clark Griffith purchased the Washington Senators in 1919, his nephew Calvin Griffith was already eager to be involved. He started as a batboy in 1924 at the age of 12, made his way to concession manager, and eventually team president before taking over as majority owner (with his sister Thelma) when Clark died in 1955.

In the early 1960s, Griffith moved the team to Minneapolis, and thanks to hall-of-famer Harmon Killebrew and the great Tony Oliva, the Minnesota Twins found themselves in the 1965 World Series. However, in the late 1970s, as the Players Association gained more bargaining power and player salaries began to increase, Griffith didn't want to spend beyond his means to remain competitive.

Whatever he made, he would invest in the team. If the team wasn't doing well financially, he wasn't going to dish out large salaries to players, because unlike some other owners his income was coming solely from baseball.

Calvin's son Clark, who was an executive vice president along with his nephew Bruce, wanted to talk to him about the business, the broadcasting, and the finance, but Calvin was disinterested. The business he spent 72 years of his life building had become too much of a business. So, in 1984, Calvin Griffith, unable to deal with the behemoth the sport had become, sold the Twins to local banker Carl Pohlad for $37 million, of which $24 million went to the Griffiths.

Seventeen years later, history seemed to repeat itself as Pohlad who, after winning championships with the Twins in 1987 and 1991, with one of the lowest payrolls in baseball, said he wanted out of the business because it was unprofitable. Somewhat ironically, in 2002 Clark Griffith attempted to structure an ownership group to buy the team from Pohlad.