Painting Nathan Baird’s actions
and practices within the ‘O’, or at CS Hawkins, as unique to ‘Nathan Baird’
would create a false image. The role of
‘Chief of Staff’, as well as the manic enthusiasms of the couple of Deputies,
whom they select to cluster, runs back to the beginning of the O’s history. The
students, who sought the power of the Tai-Pan, learned quickly to use trusted
lieutenants to organize the Organization and then make the Tai-Pan’s personal
appeal to all students from the varying high schools about Hendersonville and
the immediately neighboring cities.
In fact, Jamie Addison (the 2nd
Tai-Pan) served in effect as the Chief of Staff for Timothy Charleson. Martin
Burke (the 7th Tai-Pan) first organized the staff of Andy Wilson (the 6th
Tai-Pan). One indelible mark, however, which Nathan left on the ‘O’, partly due
to his rather unique situation as well as lack of desire (in that he never
challenged Richard), remains not succeeding to the role of Tai-Pan. That task
should have fallen to Peter.
One can nonetheless draw a direct
line from the past Tai-Pans practices to the present day beginning only with
the 71st Tai-Pan: Troy Milton, a rather large boy with glossy chestnut hair.
His career in the ‘O’ began as a sophomore Chief of Staff for James
Bardeaux. Milton meticulously kept
Bardeaux’s schedule and ran a very tight ship.
When Troy found zeal he thought deficient, he personally signed a
Circular (internal memo) exhorting his own Deputy “to push things.”
The connection from Troy Milton
to Nathaniel Baird stretches for generations as well as the many other Chiefs
of Staffs, who all made “their mark” on the Organization’s history. Nathan Baird, however, probably proved the
ablest of them all – and different (though, understandably, I might be somewhat
biased here; I recruited him after-all). So, though, were the students’ lives
by the time of our Administration. So, too, were the professional touches the
‘O’ required at that time. Like Troy Milton learned, Nathan too learned (all
too quickly) that one had “to push things.”
The Organization does not
recognize any conflict between ends and means.
The ends forever remain to win, to obtain victory, and, as in war, the
means do not matter. The ‘O’ will not tolerate and has never tolerated the squeamish
– and that will forever remain its dark underside.
A man of great charm when
friendly and total ruthlessness when frustrated, Nathaniel Baird becomes quite
impressive in either mood. Lithe,
graceful, his body moving with an athlete’s suppleness, soft of voice (when
required) but capable of booming presence (when needed), Nathan was far more
handsome with his dirty blond hair cut long than when he (occasionally) wore it
crewcut and flat-topped, and he could terrify
the Organization either way when necessary.
The Bairds had become an
established (if not broken) family by the time Nathan attended CS Hawkins. He was sixteen generation Tennessean, and his
mother’s side of the family had lived for centuries in the mountainous regions
between Tennessee and Kentucky. Above all, however, the Bairds – and Nathan –
were patriots.
Nathaniel Baird, as remembered by
his family and friends (me among them), did not enjoy “politics,” nor had he
become particularly active locally. He did volunteer, when time permitted, for
community service (though not generally known to this day), and he thoroughly
enjoyed his time playing soccer – football, as he would insist – as well as
marching band and debate. If he had any
institutional commitments while in high school, then those commitments remained
narrowly focused on those three institutions.
To the outside observer, Nathan
possessed many intriguing qualities within his personality. He had his endless work ethic, that sharp and
quick mind with an insatiable desire to learn and almost encyclopedic
recall. He also had that professional
administrator’s approach, which caused one student (whose name escapes me at
the moment) to remark after his first meeting with Nathan “oh yes, he knows
what the ‘O’ is all right, but does he know what it’s all about?” But, as we would come to learn over the next
four years, Nathan probably understood its purpose better than any one of us.
Loyalty stood out as the first
and foremost of these qualities. Loyalty to his family, his relationships, his
Country, his school – that is, to his vision of an efficient, well-ordered
structure within the liberty and autonomy to act as needed (almost an outright
contradiction). Jeff Williams, one of
his oldest friends, remembers, for example, Nathan’s devotion to marching band
and his straightforward commitment of energy, talent, skills, and outreach,
which prompted Jeff to remember Nathaniel with a personal fondness and
admiration that make almost schizophrenic his abhorrence to what Nathan later
became – what he had to become – to defeat the Cowboys.
Once part of the ‘O’, Nathan’s
loyalty ran ultimately to Tai-Pan Richard Holst, above all other institutional
loyalties (only Gwen, Suzanne, and Mel could and occasionally did trump
it). “Once he accepted the role, he
became totally committed,” Jeff remarked to me one day. “A clear-cut case of
hero worship, if I ever saw one, almost a wedding of minds.” Nathan’s basic loyalty went to the man not
the ‘O’, and certainly not even to the traditional processes of the required
interactions. Holst became the institution during those turbulent times, and
Nathan came to believe Richard remained absolutely indispensable to the future
of the Organization.
To this quality of loyalty, I
must add Nathan’s second quality: an almost blindingly puritanical discipline
that governed his personal life, which affected the way he viewed other
people. He proved totally incorruptible,
and possessed an unbending interpretation of what was “right” and what was
“wrong.” He thus rigidly froze with his stinging sarcasm all those about him,
whom he came to see failing in this respect.
It also led to many reckless and fool hearty actions on his part – and
when faced with an impossible decision, it would cost him … dearly. I still remain dumbfounded that Shane Phelps
saw this quality first.
In addition to his loyalty and,
for lack of a better term, self-righteousness, Nathan possessed a third
quality: his intellectual preoccupation with technique. Rigid
self-righteousness coupled with the cold, mechanical techniques of management
could make Nathan the Man-of-Terror he became within the Organization during
its greatest challenges in the aftermath of hurricane Alycia: unforgiving,
cruel, and above all inflexible. Only
Mel would show capable of bending Nathan’s will there; something I think far
too many overlook, when they side with Suzanne.
Nathan set the “inner style” of
the ‘O’ within two weeks of accepting my invitation. It only took two more
weeks for that style to move into full swing.
That style reflected Richard Holst, to be sure, and the man he
ultimately chose as his first minister became Nathaniel Bartholomew Baird. On a personal level, however, Richard could
prove engaging, emotive, as well as remarkably kind and generous, and he could
crack a mean joke.
"I can't seem to remember
anything funny" probably remains one the most innocuous, self-reflective
comments Nathan made to me after a staff meeting during those early days.
"It's a definite failing I have. I can't even remember a good joke."
Odd, considering Nathan loved to laugh.
Jon and I, on the other hand, soon had a running joke around Nathan,
whenever he launched some "project" of the Tai-Pan: "It's yet
another race between success and a cardiac."
“He doesn’t want to organize,”
Nathan said of the Tai-Pan, “he needs to be organized.” Nathan simply proceeded
to do what Richard Holst needed. And, yes, I fully supported Nathan in that
respect.
Nathan saw to it everything was
organized.
He organized ideas; he organized
reactions, he organized the staff (and ruthlessly re-organized it when needed);
he organized the Tai-Pan’s schedule; he organized the dissemination of the
Tai-Pan’s desires; he organized how the Tai-Pan executed orders – in effect he
organized the Organization to levels never before seen. To accomplish this, Nathan needed to step on
toes. Unfortunately, this also meant
that anything, which might have needed a light touch, would soon find itself
crushed into superorganized pulp.
Once Nathan established himself,
nothing went directly to the Tai-Pan ... ever.
Requests, suggestions, and appointments became "staffed out,"
which, to Nathan, meant "studied by the staff and, if possible, decided at
a lower level," but sometimes would come to mean "responsibility
irretrievably spread." Nevertheless, Nathan invited and sometimes demanded
dissenting opinions. If you told Nathan something you could rest assured it
went to the Tai-Pan persuasively, reduced to the essentials -- and that was
Nathan's greatest talent and his most important role.
To their adventure together in
the Organization, both Richard and Nathan would develop an almost unspoken
code: the whole concept of “control.” They both had a belief that events can
be, must be managed.
… and then came along the
Cowboys.
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