In Memoriam 2016: Business

For more of our In Memoriam 2016 coverage, click here. 

John J. Hollins Sr.

1932-2016

Legal bulldog

By E. Thomas Wood

I work for lawyers these days, and I see how much satisfaction they often take in pro bono work that benefits the powerless in our society. I have witnessed the successful conclusion of cases that played out over years. But I have never seen anything comparable to what John Hollins did over the course of nearly 35 years for Jeffrey Womack.

For most of those years, Jeffrey was the prime suspect in one of Nashville’s most notorious murders, the 1975 killing of 9-year-old Marcia Trimble in a neighborhood between Green Hills and Belle Meade. Nobody who was living in Nashville then and old enough to watch the TV news will ever forget the frantic, citywide search for the girl who disappeared at a February dusk while collecting on Girl Scout cookie sales within steps of her home — or the awful Easter Sunday when her throttled body was discovered in a nearby shed.

Nashville’s police liked Jeffrey as the perp within hours of Marcia’s disappearance. He was a 15-year-old long-haired punk with “Fuck you” written on his sneakers and a condom in his pocket. It took the authorities a while to figure out he was banging the divorced mom next door, but that bit of ’70s transgression made him more suspect in their eyes, not less.

In the introduction to the memoir I helped Jeffrey and John write a few years ago, John Seigenthaler noted:

“It was the good judgment of his parents and his own good fortune that led Jeffrey Womack to John Hollins’ law office on the morning after Marcia vanished. Hollins, an experienced, fearless, tough-minded legal advocate, defended and protected his young client from boyhood into middle age. His unswerving commitment to Jeffrey’s cause, in the face of criticism and even condemnation by some law enforcement critics, continued for years.”

Only the DNA-based conviction of a serial rapist and murderer in 2009 for Marcia’s killing finally cleared Jeffrey — and I hear some of the cops who pursued him still theorize he was somehow involved. The odds of a DNA misidentification were 6 trillion to one. Facts don’t mean much in this century.

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R. Clayton McWhorter

1933-2016

Old-school business titan

By E. Thomas Wood

Clayton McWhorter, who got his start as a small-town Georgia pharmacist, never lost the manners such a role required as he rose to become one of the most powerful executives in American health care.

To get a sense of the man’s values, you only had to ask him about his dealings with Rick Scott, the brash self-styled “agent of change” who took control of Hospital Corporation of America in the early 1990s, ran it straight into trouble with the feds that resulted in $1.7 billion in penalties, and lost his job when the HCA board (including McWhorter) confronted him in a dramatic all-day meeting in July 1997 — and who went on to be elected governor of Florida in 2010.

In a 2011 interview, McWhorter explained the circumstances that led to that summer day’s showdown:

“I don’t think Rick Scott was a dishonest person, but he pushed things. He was aggressive; he did not listen; he felt like he had the answers.

“I’ll give you an example and one reason that I didn’t hang around. ... They didn’t want any advice. And, in fact, he would say to me, ‘Health care’s passed you by,’ in a sense.

“For example, he went down to Texas and tried to acquire a hospital and they said, ‘We’re not for sale, and we’re not going to sell.’ And he said, ‘Well, then I’ll build one across the street from you.’

“I said, ‘There’s no way I would do that.’ … And he said, ‘Well, you know, Clayton, this is a competitive world, and if you were still running the company, it’d be a little-bitty company.’

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“So, basically, he was aggressive. He was in-your-face. He took on the government. He took on the state attorney generals — anybody. And you don’t create relationships and goodwill.

“And when you stub your toe. ... I’d tell him, ‘Rick, you need to communicate more with Tommy [Frist, HCA’s co-founder].’ ‘Well, it’s not Tommy’s company anymore.’ I said, ‘Excuse me? Excuse me? It may not be, but let me tell you, you better build that relationship. You’re not communicating.

“And sure enough, when he stubbed his toe everybody came after him. And I remember the day that that board meeting started around noon, and didn’t end till midnight on his departure day. And it was a long day.”

Peggy McKnight

1930-2016

Donelson business owner, TV personality

By Beverly Keel

There’s always been something special about Donelson. While it’s an important part of Nashville — it’s home to the Nashville International Airport and the Grand Ole Opry — it has always remained a little bubble of love and community all on its own. There have been plenty of famous residents, from Lee Greenwood and Alan Jackson to music executives Buddy Killen and Patsy Bruce, but the belle of the Donelson ball was Peggy McKnight, who died on June 24 at age 85.

She was half of the spunky mother-daughter team known as The Women of Donelson, who starred in the memorable TV ads for their company, Donelson Air Conditioning. Her no-nonsense charm, down-home humor and Southern flair made her a viewer favorite.

Donelson Air Conditioning owners Tom Owen and Cliff Parsons hired the mother of three young girls as a part-time bookkeeper in 1969. “My hours kept getting longer and longer, and the business kept getting bigger, and before you knew it, I was full time,” she told the Scene in 2000. She acquired company stock in 1979 when Parsons bought Owen out, and became majority owner when Parsons died in 1989.

McKnight began her legendary live spots in 1990 and invited daughter Joyce to join her in 1994. Perhaps some of her authenticity came from writing the scripts herself on a small home typewriter. Although she seemed like a natural, she was terrified the first time she delivered a live commercial on The Morning Show With Ralph Emery.

“[Ralph] said to look at the red light and pretend there was no one else in the world, to just talk to the camera like I was talking to him. That was such good advice.”

McKnight, who lived in Mt. Juliet, sold the company in 1991, but stayed on full time until 1994, when she convinced Joyce to move back from Florida and help her. Not only was McKnight cool, she was also a quintessential steel magnolia who outlived husband Joe and daughters Sherry Jo and Gail Kerr, the beloved Tennessean columnist.

Despite heartache and hardships, Peggy always put on a happy face in public. “You can’t ever go out and not expect to be seen by someone,” she said. “You should always be prepared to be recognized.”

Brad Reed

1939-2016

Attorney, mentor

By Townes Duncan

In 2014 I interviewed Brad Reed for the Nashville Bar Association’s oral history project. At the end of the interview, I asked him how he’d like to be remembered. His succinct answer: “As an honest and competent lawyer.” He certainly was that, and much, much more.

Brad hired and mentored me as a neophyte lawyer at Bass, Berry & Sims — pretty much the first job I’d ever had where I was hired for some reason other than a strong back. He taught me how to practice law, passed along reams of practical knowledge and experience, and gave me a real-life example of a gentleman, a lawyer and a good man in action. His often unwarranted confidence in me gave me confidence in myself. Along the way he also greatly expanded my knowledge of the inventive and impactful use of profanity (in appropriate situations).

I’m far from alone in any of this; Brad played a similar role in the careers and lives of a very long list of people fortunate enough to know him. And the list of community institutions that were fundamentally changed for the better by his involvement in their affairs are numerous. A small sample includes the Legal Aid Society of Middle Tennessee, the Tennessee Higher Education Commission, the board of trustees of The Ensworth School, St. Mary’s Retreat Center in Sewanee, the Jack C. Massey Graduate School of Business and the Jack C. Massey Foundation.

About two months after his death, 150 or so of Brad’s friends, clients and partners gathered to remember him. Several dozen attendees spoke about Brad and how he had impacted their lives. Virtually all described him as an important mentor, as the adviser to whom they took their toughest questions, and as a moral compass in their lives. Their stories portrayed a keen and powerful intellect, “one of the very best lawyers I have ever encountered” (from a speaker with a very wide frame of reference on the subject); a person possessing “an amazing understanding of human nature”; and “a truly wise counselor.” Speaker after speaker described his fearsome and uncompromising integrity. And, yes, more than a few mentioned his talent for creative profanity. 

But the overarching theme of the remarks that evening was Brad’s generosity. 

“When I look back on my friendship with Brad, I’m struck by how one-sided it was — I received so much more from him than I gave to him,” said one attendee. “I had the feeling that Brad saw it as his responsibility to take care of me, in dozens of ways, small and large,” said another. 

One speaker summed it up for me this way: “I believe that every day in Nashville and around the country, somebody, or more likely several somebodies, pauses and says to themselves, ‘I wish I could ask Brad about that,’ or, ‘What would Brad counsel me to do in this situation?’ ” A wise man once said that the closest we can come to immortality is to live on in the memories of the people we’ve touched and the people they touch. On that basis, Brad’s legacy is secure. 

Bob McNeilly

1932-2016

Banker, community leader, Southern gentleman

By Geert De Lombaerde

Well into his 70s, Bob McNeilly could be found in the halls of the Vanderbilt-Ingram Cancer Center, continuing a legacy of service to the broader Vanderbilt University community.

“I fix coffee and take the snack cart around to patients receiving infusions,” McNeilly told VUMC’s Reporter publication in 2014 about his weekly volunteer shifts. “It seems simple, but I sure hope it brings a little bit of brightness into patients’ lives.”

McNeilly brought brightness to many parts of Nashville’s business and civic landscape during and after a career in printing and banking than spanned more than four decades and led to him atop Nashville’s banking pyramid as chairman of First American Bank. At Vanderbilt alone, he was, among other things, a member of its Board of Trust, chair of the School of Nursing’s Julia Hereford Society, president of the Canby Robinson Society and president of the Vanderbilt University Alumni Association. Beyond campus, he chaired the boards of the Nashville Area Chamber of Commerce and the Metropolitan Action Commission and was a board member of the Tennessee Performing Arts Foundation, the United Way’s Community Building Initiative and the Leah Rose Residence for Senior Citizens, just to name a few.

“He was a problem solver,” said Pinnacle Financial Partners Vice Chairman Ron Samuels, who first met McNeilly shortly after moving to Nashville and recalls him driving United Way leaders to bump up their fundraising goals in the late 1980s. “If something needed to be done, you would see him take an active role. He had all those great leadership qualities you would want to find in someone of his stature.”

City leaders from all corners were quick to recall McNeilly’s lively spirit, opera expertise and love of cooking. U.S. Rep. Jim Cooper said he epitomized “the best of Nashville the South.”

“He was fun to be around and he loved to play golf — and he was competitive,” Samuels said. “He was authentic.”

Miles Ezell

1927-2016

Milk magnate, Lipscomb booster

By Geert De Lombaerde

Powered by milk, Miles Ezell Jr. and his wife Linda traveled to more than 80 countries on all seven continents. But it was much closer to home — more specifically, between Belmont Boulevard and Granny White Pike — that the Nashville native had arguably the greatest impact.

Ezell spent 66 years at the family business, Purity Dairies, after serving in the U.S. Navy during World War II, studying at then-David Lipscomb College for two years and earning a degree in dairy technology at Ohio State University. The growth of the company his father founded in 1925 and its 1998 sale to industry giant Dean Foods enabled him to give back to Lipscomb in numerous ways.

Most notably, it was in the Ezell Center, the building named after his father and housing numerous university departments and offices as well as event spaces and radio and TV studios. He also gave to many other expansion projects as Lipscomb’s campus mushroomed over the past two decades.

But Ezell, who was an avid photographer and scuba diver in his free time and supported numerous Christian and charitable endeavors late in his life, also made it a point to give back in far smaller ways. He helped launch what is now Youth Encouragement Services more than five decades ago and was a charter member of the AGAPE board. And in addition to supporting Lipscomb by attending dinners or special events — and more loudly, various sports contests — Ezell would regularly take the time to write job-well-done notes to school employees or quietly slide them coupons for a free gallon of ice cream.

“Miles Ezell was the model of a Christian gentleman,” said former Lipscomb President Steve Flatt after Ezell died. “He was a soft-spoken leader whose wisdom was revered. Miles’ generosity knew no bounds because he loved anything that bettered people’s lives and that grew the kingdom of God.”

Remembered …

Gerald Averbuch, developer and health care entrepreneur.

Ben Harris, former chairman, president and CEO of Genesco.