JULY 27, 2022 – Blogger’s note: In Monday’s post, I mentioned a an old banking colleague of mine, Bill McRostie. He was such an unusual character, I thought he deserved a post dedicated solely to him. In retrospect, I wish I’d asked him more questions. I’m confident he would’ve provided more answers.
Bill was tall, thin, craggy-faced, and barely opened his mouth when he talked. His eyes told you he’d been through hell and gone and therefore, was probably the wisest guy at the bank. He was definitely as smart as his gray, well-tailored suits made him appear.
From the department head, who’d recruited Bill out of retirement, I learned that Bill had accomplished lots in life. He was a fighter pilot in WW II. Later, he made a living playing trombone in jazz clubs in New York City. He then went to law school, practiced corporate law, and eventually became general counsel of Olivetti. After a distinguished corporate career, Bill returned to Minnesota, where he did some real estate development, and worked on his family’s house, which was his primary weekend activity—or at least the one he talked about most. He also spoke fondly of his wife and adult kids.
Bill’s portfolio included the highly visible and financially troubled Cedar Riverside Project near downtown Minneapolis. At one stage, the complex workout got so intense it made The New York Times and rendered Bill famous inside the bank. His cube was next to mine, which meant that each of us could hear one-half of each other’s phone conversations. By listening to Bill, I gained considerable insight into his problem-solving skills, the hallmark of which was to think “outside the box” long before that phrase came into vogue—or practice, at least among lawyers and bankers. Bill was constantly trying out novel ideas, prefaced by, “What if we tried this . . . [something new and different]?” Also, he was a master chess player, always thinking several moves ahead of everyone else.
In our weekly credit committee meetings, chaired by the bank president and dominated by the chief credit officer, Bill demonstrated intelligence, good judgment, and total command over legal, accounting, and strategy issues. When he spoke, always with verbal economy, everyone listened intently.
At lunchtime Bill often stopped by my cube, jingled the change in his pocket, and in his gravely voice, asked, “Wanna eat?”
The conversations over a sandwich were always full of beef—far-ranging and informative—and Bill was more than happy to listen to me yammer about my work challenges. Invariably, he’d provide helpful advice.
I remember the conversation that put Bill in an even higher league. After we talked politics, during which he had revealed his Democratic sympathies and intention to vote for Walter Mondale for President . . . I asked what Bill had done over the weekend.
“Lois [his wife] and I saw Purple Rain,” he said.
“Howdja like it?” I asked, trying to hide my surprise.
“It was one of the best damn movies I’ve ever seen,” said Bill. “And I love Prince’s music.”
After I left the bank to rejoin the law firm I’d started with, Bill sent me work. But with his confidence came high expectations, and as a result, I worked extra diligently to meet them. The formula worked and informed the rest of my career as a lawyer.
In the years that followed, Bill called occasionally to ask, “Wanna eat?” I always said “yes,” because I wanted to hear his take on current events; the well-informed, thoughtful insights of Bill “McCrusty” McRostie, who made this world a better, smarter place.
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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson
