During the worst days of the Civil War, President Lincoln would often get away from the summer heat of Washington by riding up to a telegraph office on a cool hill north of the city. The telegraph was the first great technology of the revolution in telecommunications that over time developed into communications satellites and the Internet. The President would sit in the telegraph office receiving the very latest reports from the battlefields.
One night a telegraph message came in detailing yet another Union army calamity. Confederate cavalry had surprised a Union camp near Manassas, Virginia, and captured a brigadier general and a hundred horses. With the telegraph operator watching, Lincoln slumped in his chair as he read of this latest setback. Moaning slightly he said, “Sure hate to lose those one hundred horses.”
The operator felt obliged to ask, “Mr. President, what about the brigadier general?”
Lincoln replied, “I can make a brigadier general in five minutes, but it is not easy to replace one hundred horses.”
A friend gave me that quote in a frame the day I was promoted to brigadier general. I’ve made sure it was hanging right above my desk in every job since. My job as a leader was to take care of the horses, get the most out of them, and make sure they were all pulling in the direction I wanted to go. And, by the way, make sure there were folks behind me ready to be promoted to brigadier general and take over after I left.
“If I put you all in a plane and it crashed with no survivors,” Army Chief of Staff General Bernie Rogers said to us during his welcoming speech to my class of fifty-nine new brigadier generals, “the next fifty-nine names on that list will be just as good as you. No problem.”
During the run-up to Desert Storm, General Norm Schwarzkopf became ill. Norm was vital to the success of our plans, but I could not let him be indispensable. I had a replacement in mind, should that ever become necessary; and my boss, Defense Secretary Cheney, knew who I would recommend.
General Max Thurman, the commander of Southern Command from 1989 to 1991, planned, executed, and led our campaign in Panama to overthrow the dictator Manuel Noriega. Max was one of the greatest soldiers I’ve ever known and one of the dearest of friends. After the invasion was successfully completed, Max was diagnosed with cancer. During the early stages of treatment, he remained in charge of Southern Command, but after some months, it became clear that his treatment was going to be very intense and conflict with his duties. Secretary Cheney, who was close to Max, didn’t want to relieve him. I finally persuaded him it was necessary. Max understood perfectly. In battle you take casualties and you move on. The needs of the mission and the horses must come first. Max eventually died of his illness.
Back when I was a young lieutenant in Germany, I was the executive officer of an infantry company, second in command to Captain Bill Louisell. We were out on a graded exercise testing our combat readiness—one of those exercises that tries to replicate as close as possible real combat conditions. On the second night, at the height of the action, the evaluators killed Louisell and removed him from the exercise. I was in command. We made it through the night and successfully completed the exercise. The credit went to Bill. He had kept me informed, trained me, and let me inside his concept and plan. I was able to take over when he was taken out.
I have run into too many people in public life who think they turn on the sun every morning. If not for them there would be no light and heat. I have run into too many people who have long passed their sell-by date and don’t accept that it’s time to leave. I have run into too many leaders who have never given a thought to succession or building a leadership team in depth. Too many leaders are too insecure to face those realities.
And I have run into too many leaders who would not face the reality that the indispensable person is holding their organization back. Leaders have an obligation to constantly examine their organization and prune those who are not performing. The good followers know who the underperformers are; they are waiting for a leader to do something about them.
When necessary pruning is not done, good followers often slack off. But when it is done successfully, black clouds lift from over the team.
Even the best, most treasured, most successful members of a team can lose their edge and become underproductive. Leaders need to be ready to replace anyone who is no longer up to the task. Don’t reorganize around a weak follower. Retrain, move, or fire them. You are doing that person a favor in the long term. And you are doing your team a favor immediately.