In Memory of Edward Gerald (Jerry) Gladbach (EGG)
He saw something others missed, called it out, then did something.
How is it that people come into our lives at the exact moment when we need them most? Were they guided there on purpose? Or do they have a God-given instinct about people, situations? Was there a knowable personal benefit, a societal one or was it commensal?
In 1980, I first met him, Ed Gladbach, senior engineer for the City of Los Angeles Department of Water and Power (LADWP), the largest municipal water and power agency in the nation. My position, a brand new employee, an associate environmental scientist with the Edison Electric Institute (EEI) in Washington, DC. EEI represented the investor-owed side of purveying electricity. Ed was from the public side. We were both attending the Energy and Environment (E&E) Committee Meeting in Atlanta, GA. My first E&E Committee Meeting.
What was Ed doing there? He was from public power. Public power and rural electric cooperatives would mock us with cartoons that labeled us the IOUs (Investor-owned Utilities). The ones on the NY Stock Exchange. Weren’t we the enemy? Not when it came to environmental research and policy.
And, how is it that he and I were sitting at dinner together with one other man from Pacific Gas and Electric (PG&E) and another from Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) at Pittypat’s Porch Restaurant? (And, it was hot, muggy. We were all sweating like crazy.) They knew the power business. At 26, while I knew something about the analytical chemistry of polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) (2 years), I knew nothing about electricity (and the practicality of environmental policy making and management). Was this the beginning of a beautiful working relationship? Ed would later tell me, it was, but I was completely unaware in 1980, at 26 years of age, that he had befriended me.
(The truth is he liked all the staff at Edison Electric Institute and how EEI aggressively approached air, water, waste, toxic substance and other environmental issues in DC. (We also had resources.) As a young engineer, he had been recruited from the University of Missouri - Columbia to LA. He would take the same approach with us non-engineers and other people who he saw something in.)
What I can tell you, even though this period of time was a blur, meeting all these people from around the country, and wondering how I would ever remember the 100 or so utility company names, is that Ed likely asked me many questions. His curiosity rested with other people and his unique ability to communicate with them, with a purpose that maybe even he did not know. I can also tell you that Ed was an educator. He knew stuff. He knew people.
As I write you today, like few people, I now realize that Ed could see the future. He would bring people into his world to flesh out the details. He recognized a good idea. Unlike most, he would act on it. Bring other people with position, knowledge and skills into the picture. All with the idea of making something happen, without fear. If we can survive them, failures inevitably benefit civilization, but always someone has to take the initial risk. He did.
You have to picture Ed worked for an agency, a public service bureaucracy founded on innovation (water brought to LA by Mulholland), located in an iconic building in Los Angeles on HOPE STREET (Maybe a predecessor to my 2015 vision for HOPE FAMILY VILLAGE.) filled with roughly 8,000 highly competitive, male engineers. You could watch the Academy Awards Red Carpet Ceremonies from directly across the street.
Ed was extremely bright. Probably did very well on civil service exams and rose through the ranks rather quickly. At some point, his superiors must have recognized that there was no test, nor position, to properly measure and grade his skills. How do I know this?
In the six years we worked intensely together, at DWP, every cool, mission critical project had EGG’s initials on it. Somewhere. He would be the man called upon by the executives to handle difficult, unusual, or sensitive situations. Even better, he had their ear when something out of the ordinary, even crazy, was beckoning. (His last involved alternative energy, in the late 1980s.) He understood people, where they were coming from, and unlike many engineers, he knew how to communicate. Adeptly.
You will find many tributes (US Congressional Record) to Jerry, as he was known to his family and the water community that say, he was kind and a gentlemen. Highly knowledgeable. Rarely did I not see him in a coat and tie. To my eye, dapper for an engineer.
To know Ed, as I did, was to know a man who always on a mission. Inconceivable to me would be seeing him not on a mission. Yet, the same man could be very funny and entertaining, especially in a private conversation in a public setting. Aware of his surroundings, the volume of his voice would rise and fall. When low and quiet, he would draw near, and tell you something as if it was the most precious secret ever uttered. And, you should keep it to yourself, accompanied by his hand gestures.
When not listening, Ed was teaching. He once explained the order of the ccs on internal memos (which could take up a half page on a two page memo.) Apparently, readers critique the order of seniority, which may be more important than memo content. In our day, the position of secretary had its own hierarchy. Coveted by senior and principal engineers, at the top of LADWP, these women knew the real news. Incredibly fast typists, they could decipher any chicken scratch. They would protect people like me by correcting an errant cc order or suggesting the use of more judicious language. Ed would make sure I knew the best secretaries in the department and tell me, If you want to get things done around here, these are the people you connect with. Prone to giggle nervously, he’d say. No, I am dead serious, Corey.
Another favorite. Where to sit at a conference room table to have influence. Not at the head of the table.
For the over 40 years that I knew Ed, I never got used to calling him Jerry. ACWA’s Dan Smith, a writing colleague for 4 years, would refer to him as Ed/Jerry, with a chuckle. (In the power community, it was Ed. For family and the water community, it was Jerry.) During this time, we’d experience long gaps without even a phone conversation. Still, we would call each other if we thought the other guy could help us with some problem or issue. Was it an election, board matter (In the early 1990s, I would chair a municipal agency just like Ed’s and then call him for help), or simply an idea or contact. We both were people connectors, a network, long before the internet. Remember the Rolodex? (Ed’s was much more substantial than mine, but I was in it. Thank goodness.)
In 1982, I was frustrated with Washington, DC. Never fit in there. Hated the politics of it. Unlike Ed, who thrived in political environments. On a visit to LA, I told him that environmental, public health and occupational health protection took too long and was ridiculously bureaucratic and expensive. Organizations would be better off thinking, What makes sense, given the scientific literature, course of events, and taking “corporate” action, along with maintaining a constant and necessary feedback mechanism. Otherwise, we would always be waiting for the federal government to determine priorities, when they could be wildly wrong. The musing of a young man. Now 28.
After he asked me what I would do differently, he said, Wait here. He went next door to visit with an executive for what seemed like an inordinately long time. When he returned, he said, We are going to lunch with Ken Miyoshi, the Assistant General Manager. He’s as frustrated as you are and had the same thought.
An idea became a career (and turned into an ISO standard 15 years later) and too many spin-off projects to list. All because of one Ed Gladbach.
For some people, you know how they feel. They cannot hide instant facial expressions and body language. Ed was such a man. You unmistakably knew. Good, bad, or indifferent.
I can think of choice incidents where professionals, traveling from all over the country to Palo Alto, CA were sitting at a long table table, dancing around an issue, and Ed, who did not know the specifics, stopped the meeting and demanded that everyone put their cards on the table. Vintage Ed and likely the reason he was invited to the meeting. Not everyone can do this and be respected and still liked afterward. Ed could. And, he was always listening, an essential part of communication.
Yet, you could always see the wheels turning in Ed’s head. Processing what he heard. Did they ever stop? I doubt it.
When I attended an engineering graduate school, as a liberal arts and sciences undergrad, it became apparent to me that engineers were not natural writers and oral communicators. Ed would often say, in moments of tension at the department, the problem we have is the failure to communicate. In moments of frustration, he would zero in on that one word. Communication. All problems, he believed, could be solved with better, honest communication. Likely another reason he was called upon by his superiors to solve the lunatic fringe problems that they could trust with no one else.
Fortunate for me, my career, my life, Ed called on me or gave me opportunities no one else would have. Did it start at Pittypat’s? Maybe. I know for certain that this man called on many others and amplified their lives and careers, possibly when they were reluctant. He saw something in people, recorded it in his mind, and more. He saw the future, then created it. He was not a passive man. Today, more than ever, we need more active men and women like Ed.
How do you thank a person like this? You can. You do. It’s never enough. The best you can do is try to help, encourage, inspire someone else. When we find that opportunity and act on it, we keep our world turning and evolving.
There is a reason certain people become leaders. First, they have to want it. They have to believe they can lead. They have to accept that mistakes are inevitable and, as humans, we are weak and fallible. Perfection is meant for the higher strata. Mostly, though, we pick our leaders. Purposively. Because they are the ones we need for the situations, the times.
When Ed walked into a room, you knew a leader was present. You could be sure that he knew the people in that room or if he didn’t he would. And, I had the privilege and honor of knowing one Edward Gerald Gladbach. I had a front row seat, right smack in the center. Thank you, Ed, for seeing in me what I did not see in myself and picking me as one of your students. I will miss you dearly, friend.
What a lovely tribute to such an incredible person. Just reading this, I find myself wishing I was in the room with the two of you, and in admiration. Grateful you got to work together.
Lovely tribute, Corey. What is so wonderful about leaders like Ed is they find ways to signal you and leave clear trails for you to follow, ones that will lead down valuable pathways, even if some journey’s ultimately hit a dead end. This is because you learn from both success and failure. They identify emerging explorers and bring them on the team and keep an eye on them. I had such an experience in banking.
They are known to me as Servant Leaders. They serve the cause, whatever it may be or they may help shape it to be, by identifying and serving others who can tip the scale. It is not about them getting the recognition at all. It is about inducing others to becoming players in creating solutions to vexing problems and reordering visions, strategies, tactics and focus. It takes only one encounter such as yours; recognition of the gift you received; and the time to turn it into a golden moment or more that changes a life forever. You were blessed by truly knowing the essence of Ed, the Servant Leader. His is a model to emulate. You captured his essence splendidly.
Tom Rideout