Business Community

In the Margins | Remembering a rarity: George F. Russell, Jr.

Several days before Christmas, my tangled string of lights was malfunctioning as usual. I pulled into the parking lot of our local Wilco hardware store when I received an unexpected call from a former colleague whom I had not talked to in at least a decade.

He was calling to tell me that George F. Russell, Jr. had died on Dec. 18, at age 93.

The caller spoke softly, was a bit numb (his word), and was bravely asking for help in thinking about some next steps for him and his family. His father had taught him well; there’s no harm in asking for help even when you probably know the answers yourself.

As we talked, I tried to offer some semblance of sympathy and advice, but all I could think of was my first day on the job at the Frank Russell Company in Tacoma, on Jan. 9, 1996. My boss introduced me to the company’s founder and president, George Russell, for the first time. He was busily leafing through papers at his stand-up desk on the 12th floor of 909 A St. He was wearing his trademark short-sleeved dress shirt. I was intimidated, wide-eyed, nervous.

George suddenly turned from his work and, with a twinkle in his eye, unexpectedly tossed a colorful Koosh ball directly at me. I nearly dropped my notebook but managed to catch the Koosh ball. He chuckled and said, “Good catch, welcome aboard. I hope you enjoy working here.” Our meeting was over in five minutes. We never sat down.

George F. Russell Jr.

A toolkit of values and integrity

I spent 13 years working at the Russell company and seven more at the Russell family office, Threshold Group. I left with much more than job experience. I gained an ample toolkit of values, integrity, knowledge and some remarkable relationships. I kept the Koosh ball, which still sits in the top drawer of my desk at home.

Throughout the holiday season, I started thinking about all the people who would be coming to terms with the passing of George Russell. We certainly knew this day would come, but when death arrives, it can bring a stunning finality that freezes us in our tracks and forces us to take stock of life.

Most of us will be pleased if we can make a lasting impact based on some positive portion of our lives. George, with true-north guidance and wisdom from his life partner, Jane Russell, was a rarity. He generated an endless bow wake of impact that will wash rewardingly onto our shores forever. His legacy will become so much larger than what he achieved in nearly a century of life — and he achieved a lot. His obituary elegantly captures the big rocks.

A self-described salesman … and disrupter

At work, George humbly referred to himself as a salesman. He said he believed in hiring people smarter than himself. (In my case, he allowed a glaring exception.) Above all, he believed in non-negotiable integrity; he liked taking reasonable risks, working hard, winning people’s trust, and having fun. For George, work and life were not a zero-sum game; they were mutually rewarding.

As a self-described salesman, he sold ideas more than commoditized services or products. We will remember him for his ability to identify needed improvements and for peddling innovative ideas to those with ability, power, funds or influence. He convinced those around him – especially the “associates” at the Russell company — to achieve things bigger than they might have thought possible. His imagination was relentless and scalable. His vision was not impeded by horizons.

He convinced some of the largest institutional clients to make purposeful changes in how and where their investments were being made, managed and measured. He helped many individuals make sense of their daunting retirement plans. He brought research-based sea changes to an investment industry that had been comfortable with staid assumptions and outdated traditions. George was a “disrupter” before the term was popularized.

When the Russell family sold their company in 1999, George and Jane created an unprecedented equity-sharing plan that rewarded everyone across the org chart — something that had not been fashionable or even feasible among most private enterprises.

Wealth builder with a human conscience

George was far more than a business or policy leader. He was a leader of people. We will remember him as a successful wealth builder with a human conscience, a concept that today’s tech billionaires would do well to study and emulate.

We will remember him as much for his values, principles and kindness, even with all the milestones he achieved at work. We will remember him for his global views, his unwavering optimism, his sly humor, and for the fact that his company’s mission statement, improving financial security for people, was more than glossy brochure-speak. Outside of the workplace, we will remember him for his love of the mountains and the sea.

In the many notes being posted on George’s obituary website, we read remembrances from former employees, friends, neighbors, service workers and others. These people speak not necessarily to his business achievements but to his human impacts.

A senior executive who worked 26 years at the company simply states that George was a mentor rather than a boss. A former facilities manager thanks George and Jane for their support during a family cancer crisis. Another past employee remembers their support after having lost a child. Others emphasize that George’s legacy will live on through those who knew him. Repeatedly, the theme is one of graciousness, life-changing impacts, and the need to keep paying it forward.

Time to get back to life

If George could read these comments, I suspect he would be gratified and humbled, then he would want to get back to work. He would want us to do the same — get back to life. So those of us who knew or worked with George will move forward. We will be stronger, smarter, more centered, more gracious for having known him and Jane. Our families, employers, charitable groups and communities will benefit from George and Jane’s legacy in ways we might not even realize.

In the end, George sketched out a values-driven blueprint for how to embark on a successful, generous, inspirational blend of work and life. Often, he combined the uncanny energy of football coach Pete Carroll with the discipline and ethical compass of Warren Buffet. Those of us who worked with him will never forget the lessons learned by his example. Generations of his family will advance and multiply his legacy in their own ways. The positive ripple effect of George Russell’s bow wave has only just begun.

And if you never had the pleasure of knowing or working with George, no worries. Just pick up one of those colorful Koosh balls and toss it unexpectedly at someone during your next encounter. If they catch it, you might be onto something very special.

Christopher Phillips, a Gig Harbor community member since 1981 and former managing editor of The Peninsula Gateway, is a retired journalist and communications executive who worked for Russell Investments, the Port of Tacoma, and the Washington State Investment Board. His column, In the Margins, explores our community’s people, places and experiences, some of which might not otherwise come to our attention.