Here sat the O’Malleys on a Sunday morning. My little sister, Annie, was sick with tonsillitis, Mom was mad at Dad—whose name was also Dan—for making inappropriate employment choices, and I was running late for a conscripted appearance in the Pope Pious X boys choir at St. Mary’s Catholic Church, as directed by the very eccentric Sister Marion.

“Dan, Danny’s going to be late for Mass and here you sit, all hung over and no job,” Mom said very sternly to Dad, who liked drinking. “At least you could have the decency to get out of that chair and take the boy to church. It wouldn’t hurt for you to go inside the church either.”

Dad looked at me with a painful squint in his eye, and said out of the corner of his mouth, “Son, why don’t you go to Mass yourself today?”

An eruption of Mount St. Hannah—Mom’s name—quickly occurred.

“Take the boy to church, and you go to Mass, too, and I want to know what the sermon was about—now go!” Mom screamed at the top of her lungs.

Dad never said a word, cross or otherwise, on the way to Mass. Usually, he stood in the back of the church and went outside when the priest gave his sermon. This time I saw him sitting halfway toward the front listening intently as Father Connelly implored the congregation to give more money.

The inviting aroma of Mrs. O’Malley’s usual Sunday dinner of roast beef and mashed potatoes greeted us upon arriving home from church.

“I said five rosaries while you two were gone. Annie’s temperature is down to 99, Dorothy (Mom’s sister) called, and Jack got a promotion, dinner’s almost ready, Danny, you go change your clothes, and Dan “Mr. I Want To Raise Money for the Governor,” you can help me set the table if it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Mom said in her special way.

Sunday dinners were usually pleasant in our house. This one wasn’t. Between passing the peas, mashed potatoes, and serving delicious homemade apple pie, Mom verbally threw everything but the kitchen sink at Dad. His work habits, drinking habits, personal hygiene, and things I didn’t understand were tossed across the table. Dad, to his credit, kept his steely World War II veteran cool and casually defended himself. I just kept eating through the Hannah and Dan bickering show.

US Marshall Dan O'Malley with his son on Christmas morning. Photo courtesy of Dan O'Malley.

Since my little sister was sick in bed, I helped Mom with the dishes. She mumbled to herself the whole time. Even at the age of 9 I could tell her mental wheels were spinning rapidly.

Dad had his face buried in the Sunday paper as Mom regally entered the living room.

“Dan, you’re going to get a job, and you’re going to get one today,” she said officially.

Dad looked at her over the top of his paper as if he heard something, but wasn’t quite sure of what he heard.

“I’m calling the White House,” she announced.

Our family had a distant connection with the Kennedy administration. My grandmother was a grammar school classmate of President Kennedy’s mother Rose. My grandfather was the local ward boss during the Kennedy for Congress campaign. My father served in World War II with JFK’s family bodyguard, John J. “Mugsy” O’Leary. My mother, along with 150 other women in our neighborhood, had lunch one day with Jackie Kennedy. That’s what I knew about our family Kennedy relationship.

My dad dropped the paper on the floor.

“You’re what?” he said as if he wasn’t hearing properly.

Before he had a chance to utter another word, Mom was on the phone. This was back in the days before direct dial long distance.

“Operator, I’d like you to connect me to the White House in Washington D.C., please,” she said in the sweetest honey coated voice I had ever heard.

My dad had an “I really can’t believe you are doing this to me” look on his face as Mom sat there and smiled a Jack Nicholson “Shining” smile at him while the call was going through.

Hannah O'Malley was a caseworker. Photo courtesy of Dan O'Malley.

Dad’s eyes were rolling back in his head. His face was flushed. He was embarrassed beyond belief. Men’s wives don’t usually call the White House to beg favors from old Army buddies or the President of the United States on a Sunday afternoon.

We all sat silent. Mom was on hold with the White House. Cool; I thought. The operator must have told Mom she was going to put her through to someone because she said a very sincere, “thank you, honey”.

“Hello? Well, hello, Mugsy. Yes, this is Hannah. How have you been? We’ve been reading about you. Oh Dan? Dan’s fine, except he’s temporarily out of work. He had applied for a Federal Marshal’s job, but it looks like someone else is going to get it. They told him Friday he was out of the running. They? I guess it was the head Federal Marshal. I don’t know. Here I’ll let Dan tell you all about it”.

Mom thrust the phone at Dad with an all-powerful glance of “don’t screw this up,” as she handed it to him.

“Mugsy!” Dad said with confidence in his embarrassment. “Mugs, we’re doing fine; just a little setback. Well of course I wanted the job, but it’s too late now. They’re going to announce the guy’s appointment tomorrow. Sure; I’ve got time.”

I sat in wonder watching my Dad talk to some guy named Mugsy who worked at the White House for President Kennedy who Mom called after Sunday dinner because she was mad because Dad hadn’t gotten a new job yet.

Dad suddenly looked as if he had been struck by lightning. He sat bolt upright in his chair.

“What?” he exclaimed “Yes, yes, hello to you, Mr. President.”

We all sat straight up. Now my mom looked as if she too had received an electric shock.

“Yes, Mr. President, my mother was Annie O’Malley. Yes, I’m John E’s son. Yes, Jack O’Malley of B.C.’s my older brother. Yes, I was in France and England with Mugsy.

“With all due respect, sir, don’t believe everything Mugsy says about me. Well, Mr. President, basically I applied for the Southern District Federal Marshal’s position and was informed that I’m no longer a candidate. Oh, yes sir, I certainly feel I was the best man for the job. Thank you very much, Mr. President. (pause) Mugsy! What’d you do that to me for? For gawd sakes; the President didn’t need to hear my troubles. Okay. Okay. Yeah. Okay. We’ll hold tight.

“Me too. Thanks.”

With a blank look, Dad got up, walked around Mom, and gently put the phone back on the hook.

We were all silent. Mom was the first to speak.

“Honey, what did they say?” she asked.

“You heard it, I was telling Mugsy about not getting the Marshal’s job. He happened to be in the same room as the president. Mugsy put me on hold and told Mr. Kennedy who I was and where I was from. Next thing I know I’m talking with the man. He remembered Mother going to school with his mom. He said my mom was a childhood friend of hers. He said he also remembered Daddy from his congressional campaign and knew brother Jack from following B.C. football. What a memory! He told me Mugsy often talks about me from our days overseas. Then he asked me what happened and if I thought I was the best man for the job. Then he said, “We think you’re the best man for the job, too.” Mugsy gets back on the phone and then tells me to sit tight and wait for a phone call. Hannah, if this thing comes through, oh baby,” Dad said out of breath.

I jumped up to run out and tell all the kids in the neighborhood that my dad just talked to President Kennedy. Mom had other ideas.

“We’re all going to sit here and pray until someone calls us back,” she said piously.

Dad picked up the paper and buried his face in it. Mom got out the rosary beads. We prayed while Dad read the sports pages.
Several hours later the phone rang. Mom answered it.

“Hello, this is the O’Malley residence. Yes, this is Mrs. O’Malley. Yes, Mr. O’Malley is right here. I’ll get him for you. It was nice talking with you, too,” she said.
Mom handed the phone with a smile on her face to my father. It was the head United States Federal Marshal.

“Oh, hello, Mr. Howard. Fine, sir. I’d be honored to have the position. Yes, sir. I’ll be in your office at 8:30 sharp. Thank you, sir,” Dad said in the most serious and professional manner.

The phone rang again several minutes later. It was Dad’s friend from the White House, Mugsy. He called to ask if Dad was offered the Marshals job and if he accepted it.

The future US Marshal Daniel O'Malley, his wife Hannah and son, Dan Jr. in 1961. Photo courtesy of Dan O'Malley.

“Mugsy, how can I thank you for what you did for me?” Dad asked.

“You can’t. You can thank your wife. She’s the one who made the phone call,” he said.

The next day, my dad’s picture appeared on page two of the local paper with the small headline, “Local Man Chosen for U.S. Marshal.” The article went on to mention how Marshal Fred Howard was proud to have found such a champion of justice and war hero to fill the void in that tough territory known as Southern Ohio and Western Pennsylvania.

Marshal Howard was fortunate to have found exactly everything they were looking for in a candidate.

On Sunday, Dad’s broke with no job. On Monday, his picture is in the paper; he’s the new Marshal—all because Mom decided to call the White House. Behind every successful man is often a woman like my mother.

—“Both my parents passed away in 2005, just a few months shy of being wed 57 years,” says author Dan O’Malley, now a successful businessman. “This is my tribute to what would have been their 65th wedding anniversary.”

The Day Mom Called the White House The Saturday Evening Post

But he also urged people to look beyond small details, to forgive injuries, and never lose sight of the big picture. You can hear his optimism in his Poor Richard maxim:  “Energy and persistence conquer all things.”

Still, it’s difficult to tell how Ben would respond to the Obama administration’s announcement in November that the economy was showing signs of improvement — one sign, actually. Americans were losing their jobs more slowly.  The unemployment rate had fallen back to 10%. At any other time, such numbers would be depressing, but America is looking for any sign of promise.

Reading this, Ben would probably caution us to question any news that our ailing economy is recovering. He would advise caution, and rigorous frugality — but then, he always did. (“Rather go to bed without dinner than to rise in debt.”) He would remind us that good fortune rarely comes in large packages, accompanied by trumpets and a press conference. A good sign is when the little bits of encouraging news start to show up regularly.

“Human felicity is produced not so much by great pieces of good fortune that seldom happen as by little advantages that occur every day.”

Signs of Economic Recovery The Saturday Evening Post

A supplement article to Munro Shoes—Made in America.

Harman-Kardon Inc. was founded by Sidney Harman and his partner, Bernard Kardon, in 1953. The duo developed the world’s first stereo receiver while working for the Bogen Company. When the company showed little interest in the innovative ideas of its bright employees, Harman and Kardon founded their own company. The rest is history. The company hit it big and continued to grow through the decades.

In 1980, the company was incorporated and became Harman International Industries. The business underwent major expansion when it began to offer specialized sound systems for high-end automobiles. Like Munro Shoes, Harman’s product was considered high quality. The market was ripe for tremendous growth and profits, and Harman was at the forefront. In 1987, the company was worth roughly $250 million. Fast-forward to 2007 when Harman International was valued at approximately $8 billion, employing more than 11,000 people.

Recently the company expanded into “infotainment,” a multimedia platform that includes the installation of navigation, telephone, Internet, and Sirius Satellite Radio systems in automobiles. Harman also set up audio equipment for big names and big events, such as Bruce Springsteen, Neil Diamond, the Grammy Awards, and the Presidential Inauguration.

Like Don Munro from Munro Shoes, Sidney Harman was wary of outsourcing his manufacturing operations and valued input from employees, or as he calls it, the “bottom-up” approach. In his 2004 book, Mind Your Own Business, Harman wrote: “Offshore manufacturing might have been seductive if there were not other considerations. For me the most important of those considerations is the reality that many creative product leaps occur on the factory floor, and a significant percentage of those come from the people in the direct labor force.” In the book, he also questioned the financial benefits of offshore manufacturing because technological advances had lowered direct labor costs to less than 5 percent of material, labor, and overhead in his company and were still going down. He asked, “How much of a genius does it take to recognize that when it falls below 1 percent, it does not matter whether the manufacturing is done in Indiana or in Indonesia?”

However, as Sidney Harman considered retirement, no heir apparent emerged to lead his empire. On April 26, 2007, at the age of 89, Harman announced a merger with Kohlberg Kravis Roberts & Co. L.P. (KKR) and the GS Capitol Partners unit of Goldman Sachs Group Inc. in a deal valued at $8 billion. The merger underway, KKR and Harman decided it best to hire a new CEO from outside the company. Dinesh C. Paliwal, a promising 49-yearold businessman who made a name for himself with the global technology and engineering company ABB Limited, was named CEO on July 1, 2007.

Things changed quickly after the shift in leadership. Ten weeks after Paliwal’s hire, KKR backed out of the merger. As a result, the company’s stock value tumbled.

While the company worked to overcome challenges, it became increasingly clear that Paliwal’s style of leadership was far different than that of Sidney Harman’s. Within months, the company announced plans to close factories, drop unprofitable product lines, and slash new-product introductions. According to a press release, the restructuring was “an essential step to ensure the long-term competitiveness of the business, and the company is committed to implementing a series of strategic initiatives to optimize its global footprint in manufacturing.”

To date, the company has cut 900 jobs and anticipates 1,100 more layoffs by July 2009. At the same time, Harman began to outsource its technology.

“We are strengthening our foothold in the emerging markets, shifting some of the manufacturing and engineering activities to our newly established operations in China, India, Hungary, and Mexico,” Paliwal noted in the December 2008 quarterly report.

But while shutting down U.S. facilities, Harman was simultaneously opening factories in China and India, as well as massive multimedia outlets in Dubai and New Delhi.

Engineer Rick Herold was employed at Harman-Becker in Martinsville, Indiana, for more than 20 years, until the company closed the plant in early 2009. At one point, Harman was the community's largest employer.

The Harman-Becker plant, a division of Harman Industries in Martinsville, Indiana, was one of the factories shut down. At one point, Harman-Becker was Martinsville’s largest employer. Engineer Rick Herold began working for the company in the late 1980s. He remembers the ingenuity that made Harman International a big name in the audio business. “We would design and install systems that were equalized specifically for the car’s interior,” Herold explained. “They were high-end sound systems for luxury cars. We made money, and they made more money when they sold it.”

Business boomed.

In fact, growth was so explosive that demand outpaced production. Eventually, there was too much work in Martinsville, so they began to outsource some of the manufacturing duties. Harman acquired a factory in Juarez, Mexico, to focus specifically on Chrysler speakers, while another factory opened in Franklin, Kentucky, to tackle growing business from Toyota.

However, after outsourcing began, it didn’t stop.

Many businesses recognize the economic benefits of outsourcing to other countries. Labor costs are a major consideration.

When the company was opening its new plant near Shanghai, Herold was chosen to assist with the transition. He had serious concerns. “I wondered, ‘What are we doing? We’re going to build this factory, and then you’re going to put us out of business?’” His fears soon proved true. The Martinsville plant was completely shut down by January 2009. As is true of many small towns throughout the country, the factory closing crippled the local economy. After losing its largest employer, Martinsville has little to attract new business.

Herold is also concerned about the exportation of U.S. technology and ingenuity. After training the foreign employees, Herold realized that they “learned our latest, most advanced technology. What they didn’t learn is what drives the next generation of product development.”

Times are tough. Businesses are forced to make economic and unpopular decisions. However, the case of Harman illustrates a strategy that may be used more often in the future. When the plant near Shanghai opened, Mr. Paliwal said that the factory “is a key element of our strategy for growth, while leveraging the attractive infrastructure, talented work force, and new business opportunities in the Asian markets.” China’s labor and environmental laws are more relaxed, the labor is much cheaper, and the Asian market has indeed expanded, so Paliwal’s statement makes sense from a financial perspective.

However, Herold believes other factors should be considered.

“They figure out the cost of labor, the cost of a building, and other costs associated with running the business,” he explains. “Eventually, those costs are broken down into cost per piece. They should also factor in executive salaries. If we weren’t giving CEOs ‘superstar’ salaries, would we have had to go to China? All that money affects the bottom line, and like any other expense such as hourly wages and overhead, they should be figured in the cost containment/reduction formula.”

Despite the company’s plummeting stock value, Paliwal received more than $16.8 million in 2008 and in the future could earn up to $75 million based on stock performance. With this incentive, it is in Paliwal’s best interest to stay focused on the market value of Harman Industries.

In the meantime, Rick Herold has moved on and is working in a new field, but others who have been laid off face the challenge of finding a job, and that is not easy. Herold could have stayed with Harman but would have had to relocate, which did not make sense for his personal situation. He did get an offer from a company in Wisconsin, but it was not feasible for his wife to leave her business. “It was a good offer,” he admitted, “but if I’m going to be away from home, my wife needs her support system, and that’s not in Wisconsin. That’s here. If she’s not happy, I’m not going to be happy.”

Click to read Munro Shoes—Made in America

Harman International Industries Vs. Munro Shoes The Saturday Evening Post