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IN MEMORIAM ALLAN SHAPIRO He would often introduce himself, always with a twinkle in his eyes, as a famous historical figure. My favorite was the Chinese military ruler Chiang Kai-Shek. People never saw it coming, which he loved. He knew the Dalai Lama, or claimed to, and he probably did. He knew everybody. He spoke Turkish, and when I had the temerity to doubt him on this, he proved it by speaking in Turkish to a Turk, much to the young lady’s delight. Expressions of delight were common to those whose path he crossed. In fact, delight followed him like, to paraphrase the Buddha, a shadow that never left him. He delighted in telling tales of his dad’s farm in Northern Kentucky, his football prowess at Walnut Hills High School (he was maybe 5’9” and 150 pounds, without his hat) in Cincinnati and hismultitudinous children and grandchildren. He was, to use his own word, incorrigible. Incessant. Unmanageable and untrainable. He cheerfully acknowledged making everyone around him crazy at some point, and none more so than his lovely wife Mary. He talked about Mary, well, incessantly. And fondly. I had the chance to share a meal with them together only once and it was ... delightful. He mispronounced, misused, and made up words, often intentionally and always effortlessly. If he was having trouble sleeping, he would say that he was an “insomaniac.” Of a loquacious person, a “blubbermouth.” His correspondence with me was charmingly clipped; an email with no subject line, containing a single word: “call.” Or his last one to me: “Fading. But still kicking.” His favorite congratulatory exclamation: “Bravo!” Everyone liked getting a bravo! His words were rarely negative. I never heard a vulgar expression or a sour word come from him about anyone. The best he could muster – and I only heard this one time – was “that stupid guy.” He was sunny-side up almost every day I ever spoke to or heard from him, even when that day was not going well. Even those who resisted him or became exasperated with him were met with friendly fellowship. It seemed to make no

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difference to him whether the circumstance was better or worse, the person friend or foe; he marched on just the same way all the time. He was an architect, educated at Cornell University, and an amateur archaeologist. He went on digs in the Middle East. He designed airport terminals. He led big design teams. He worked around the world. He supported and furthered the careers of countless people, including mine. He was extraordinarily well-read, a citizen of the world and a thoughtful observer of any scene, large or small. He wore a hat all the time, an accountrement for which he became well-known and instantly recognizable. It was often an Orvis number, although he once told me he owned hundreds of hats. He introduced me to his favorite hat merchant, a large sweaty fellow called Meyer the Hatter, in New Orleans. I bought the straw hat right off Meyer the Hatter’s head. When he worked in Manhattan, near Penn Station, he took me to the Stage Door Delicatessen and we ate the most obnoxious corned beef sandwiches ever created. It was a raucous New York scene and there he was, right in the middle of it, enjoying every bite and minute. I’m studying his Facebook page, where friends and relatives are beginning to both mourn and celebrate this extraordinary man. Everything is in order – pictures of him and his family in various stages, some personal details about him – and then there it is: “Lives: Nome Alaska.” A laugh bubbles up through the sadness. His last twinkling moment with us. He was an original. A one-of-a-kind fellow. He was like nobody else I’ve met before and will ever meet again. He was remarkable, memorable, influential, and, yes, incorrigible. He was my rabbi. He was Allan Shapiro and my world is not the same without him. —David Kipp, Vice President of Technology Services, Burns Engineering, Inc.

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doing good work for clients. And that comes from marketing. ❚ ❚ The open house celebrating 30 years of being in business. Yes, it is nice to have a party. Everyone likes free food and drink. Your employees, vendors, sub-consultants, former employees, and competitors will all enjoy it. Your clients, on the other hand, may not even show up! I’d call this community relations. ❚ ❚ The company holiday card. I don’t know about you but the amount of time and mon- ey spent on these cards seems like a waste. I don’t think they do any good at all from a marketing standpoint. Consider putting them in the “client maintenance” category. Cheese is cheese. It’s not pasteurized, processed cheese food. Maybe it’s time you stopped serving “cheese food” and started eating real cheese at your place. Everyone has got to spend more on marketing IF they want to grow and do well in this competitive economy. MARK ZWEIG is Zweig Group’s chairman and founder. Contact him at mzweig@zweiggroup.com.

THE ZWEIG LETTER October 2, 2017, ISSUE 1218

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