“Let’s face it!” he said. “No matter whether it’s at work or in government we always do better if our leader is a mean son of a bitch who gets the job done without worrying about peoples feelings.” 

Such was a recent commentary from someone that I know and love, someone that I believe is well meaning but so terribly wrong. Ultimately the true “strong man or strong person” does not have to resort to cruelty, dishonesty, anger or force to achieve greatness. It is more often than not the quietly confident individual guided by moral purpose and love for fellow humans who moves mountains. A “son of a bitch” may get compliance for a time because people fear him or her, but the man whose goals are unselfish and thoughtful will ultimately bring out the best in others.

Scrooge was a “mean son of a bitch” but a lonely and feared man. People avoided him at all cost and only complied with his anger to keep their jobs. He inspired nobody. Only with his transformation after meeting the spirits of the past, present and future did he realize how anger and greed had left him miserable and lonely and empty. 

I often think of a neighbor from my childhood whom I knew as “Mr. Barry.” He was a quiet and reserved man who drove off to work each day in his Buick. He was the president of a bank and he did quite well for himself and his shareholders but he did so with love and kindness. He valued his employees and treated them with respect. He got to know his customers personally, genuinely wanting to help them. His goals were simple. He worked hard and never asked anyone to do anything that he himself would not be willing to do. He saw his job as being helpful and honest with both his employees and his customers. He was a resounding success.

Mr. Barry was also a wonderful father of six children. Even after long days at work he took the time to laugh and play and enjoy each member of his family. Whenever I was at his house visiting with my friend, Lynda, he always made me feel comfortable and welcomed. He was never a stern man but it was also apparent that he wanted his children to develop certain marks of character that would make them good people. He guided them by example.

I remember a time when Mr. Barry took me and Lynda to a prayer service with him. We were both excited that he had thought to invite us and we were determined not to disappoint him with our behavior. Unfortunately the event ended with a litany of the saints in which we were supposed to respond, “Pray for us!” After about five iterations something about the repetition tickled me and Lynda and, try as we may, we were unable to stifle our urge to giggle. The longer the litany went on the more we had to hold our breaths to keep loud chuckles from emerging from our mouths. All the while Mr. Barry remained calm, not even giving us the stink eye for our inappropriate behavior.

On the way home instead of scolding us for our lapse of seriousness he explained the meaning of a litany in a calm voice. He assumed our goodness and instead seemed to think that it was only our ignorance of the situation that had led to our silliness. He did not chide us nor make us feel bad about what we had done. I decided in that moment that Mr. Barry was a truly wise and great man. 

I learned from Mr. Barry on that day. He handled a negative situation in a very positive way. He might have had every right to fuss at us but he chose a more powerful way to help us to become better. I would think of him over and over again as I grew older and was charged with the care and education of my daughter sand my students. From him I knew that much more is accomplished with understanding than with anger. 

After Mr. Barry had died I spoke of him with his daughter, Lynda. I mentioned that evening at the prayer service. She did not remember it but smiled when I gave her the details. I told her that in my mind her father was a saint whose name should come up in one of those litanies. She nodded in agreement and asserted that she and her siblings had all said the same about him. Remarkably the man that I saw as a small child was obviously the same no matter where he was or what the situation might be. He was calm and loving and guided by his moral values. 

We are living in a time when quiet souls like Mr. Barry might be thought to be unfit for leadership. Nobody would note that Mr. Barry was a hero in the Navy during World War II or that he competently fulfilled his duties as a bank president for decades. They would not seem to realize his tremendous gift for inspiring people to be their best, but I saw it and often stop to reconsider how to get things done by remembering this incredible man. He was proof for me that we don’t need “a son of a bitch” for success.