After seven years at the helm, a 60 year-old CEO suffered involuntary retirement. The news article about his departure revealed some troubling undertones:

Smithson Corp. CEO Cal Harrison* said Thursday that his retirement at the end of the first quarter will allow the company to benefit from new leadership.

In a conference call with stock analysts, Harrison said he feels positive about the company's position and future. 

“However, in the last year, we clearly have not hit the high points quite like we used to, and I simply began to wonder if it might be time to bring in new leadership to take the company forward,” he said. 

He will assist in the transition period while the company conducts a nationwide search for a new CEO. 

“I want everyone to know that I will continue working hard for Smithson,” he said. “A significant part of my psychological well-being, not to mention my net worth, depends on accomplishing the goals of obtaining results that the shareholders expect” (emphasis mine).
[*The names of the CEO and his company have been changed. SOURCE: Retiring CEO says Avocent 'future bright.' Friday, January 25, 2008 Huntsville Times; by Gina Hannah.]

Is this how you’d want to finish off your career, admitting you have a psychological dependence on success, but forced to concede defeat? 

Jack Weil was believed to be the oldest CEO in the U.S. when he died last year at 107 years old. Up to the time of his death, he was still leading Rockmount, a western clothing company, since founding it in 1944. His son worked at his side for 50 years, and though Jack Jr. died eight months earlier at age 79, his father continued on. He was driven to the office every day for a four-hour shift where he did some accounting work and corporate socializing. When asked how he wanted to be remembered, he said he didn’t care.

Don't let the thought of letting go tighten your grip

These two CEOs exhibit the symptoms of Retirement Syndrome, a phenomenon studied by Manfred F. R. Kets de Vries, who said that loss of status, recognition, and income, along with physical aging and emotional stress, can make letting go a bitter, depressing experience, forcing many to cling to power indefinitely. Additionally, the fear of losing their legacies can drive these leaders to fanatically defend the dreams they labored so long to build.

De Vries describes the three-stage CEO lifecycle: First, the new leader tackles and masters fresh challenges; he or she feels fully engaged and alive. After producing results, the CEO gradually gains a sense of control and eventual mastery. Eventually, unless the CEO is able to reinvent and reenergize himself, he runs out of ideas and starts to rely on formulaic solutions. Given enough time and stagnation, the plateau deteriorates into burnout.

Leaders like Cal Harrison don’t know what to do with retirement. The crumbling “psychological well being” that accompanies retirement is accentuated by fading health, a diminished vision of the future, and the loss of public contact, influence, power, attention, and admiration. President Harry Truman said shortly before leaving office, “Two hours ago I could have said five words and been quoted in every capital of the world. Now, I could talk for two hours and nobody would [care].”

Another psychological struggle for many retiring executives is the fear of retaliation. If the CEO faced great opposition during his career, or if he has an abrasive personality, he may constantly look over his shoulder for former employees who felt belittled and want revenge.

An extreme example of this paranoia is the first emperor of China, Qinshihuang, who commissioned artisans to create an army of 8,000 clay soldiers called the Terracotta Warriors, which he stationed outside his tomb to defend him in the afterlife. He sacrificed the hundreds of thousands of forced laborers who had built his tomb and commanded them to be buried with him to safeguard its secrets and treasures. During his reign, thousands more had died carrying out his public works programs, including the construction of the first section of the Great Wall. Needless to say, between his conquest of the six surrounding states, his carefree attitude toward human life, and his spiritual superstitions, the emperor wanted his men around him when his enemies inevitably came knocking on the other side.

My 69 year-old father in law has been enjoying half-retirement for the past three years. Alan loves the extra personal time as well as the regular workplace interaction. He maintains a busy schedule of non-profit board work, church volunteering, family time, in-office meetings, and reading. Recently he suffered a heart arrhythmia that shocked all of us – if he hadn’t raced to the emergency room, we would’ve lost him. Though he now deals with daily medication and a pacemaker, the margin he had already built into his life has allowed him to adapt to his new circumstances with a positive mindset. Rather than falling prey to the high-octane life he had known for decades, Alan is finding time to rest and reflect.

Perhaps the greatest retirement story of all is Moses, who smoothly propelled his successor, Joshua, into authority. In the book of Joshua, we witness the results of a perfectly executed succession plan. The new leader is an extension of his late predecessor, almost as if Moses is still in command.

Joshua has credibility with the Israelites because he endured slavery with them in Egypt, lived with them in the desert for four long decades, and fought shoulder-to-shoulder to defend their newfound freedom. He served Moses as second-in-command and led daring military campaigns. Joshua was entrusted with honorable tasks like climbing the holy mountain where God gave the commandments, and standing watch outside the holy tent of meeting.

Moses’ retirement model works well in modern times. In 1981, Jack Welch became CEO of GE at the age of 45. At 58, with seven years to go before his planned retirement, Welch began searching for his replacement. “From now on, choosing my successor is the most important decision I’ll make,” he said. “It occupies a considerable amount of thought almost every day.”

How a megachurch pastor retired

Bob Russell, for 40 years the senior minister of 18,000-member Southeast Christian Church in Louisville, Ky., also began succession planning seven years before his retirement in 2006. He started sharing the pulpit with associate minister Dave Stone a little more every year. Finally, after a flurry of retirement parties, roasts, public accolades, gifts and emotional sermons, Russell handed the reins to his protégé. Like Joshua, Stone had been at his commander’s side for many years, and the congregation followed him without hesitation.

The lessons of this smooth transition I affectionately call Russell’s Rules of Retirement:

Pass the baton at full speed. He explains that in a relay race, the runner receiving the baton cranks up to full speed before taking over, with the goal of gaining a step in the transfer. In the same way, the new leader should already be running hard when he or she takes command.

Bow gracefully and leave the building.  Russell didn’t visit his church for a full year after his retirement. He wisely gave the new minister room to establish himself and settle into the new position on his own. Plus, when Russell saw that his ongoing presence in the pulpit might needlessly stretch out the letting-go process, he shortened his exit strategy by a few months.  

Force the fizzle. Whenever he accepted awards and applause, his every word of appreciation pointed to how great Dave Stone was going to be. He consistently pushed the spotlight off himself.

Go early and stay free. After 40 years in the same church, Russell was still in his early 60s when he retired. He jokes that he guest preaches more now at other churches than he did in his own pulpit. However, he takes only the engagements he wants, and tries to refrain from long-term projects or other commitments. He’s doing many things he long dreamed about but never had the freedom to pursue.

A gracious exit relieves the bitterness and regret of retiring. When we plan our departure, we have time to ramp down our egos for a softer landing. If we do it early enough, we have time to open the door on longstanding dreams, rather than facing a wind-down to nothingness. We can look to our twilight years with anticipation rather than trepidation.


For discussion....
Do you have a retirement plan?
Will you burn out like Cal Harrison, or flame on like Bob Russell?
What do you dream about doing during retirement? Can you lay some groundwork now?