56 minute read
HOSPITALITY
from D CEO September 2022
by DCEO
OUTDOOR OASIS
The Western-themed Hotel Drover is outfited with a large outdoor area called The Backyard.
HOSPITALITY
Remaking Fort Worth’s Stockyards
Developer Craig Cavileer and designer Kayla Wilkie are expanding their vision for the historic entertainment district.
story by KELSEY J. VANDERSCHOOT
M
majestic realty’s recent acquisition of the Stockyards Hotel, its restaurant, and saloon began with a cold call. The buyers couldn’t figure out who owned it, even after extensive research. “We left a message with the front desk and said, ‘Please have the owner call,’” says Craig Cavileer, executive vice president at Majestic. Bob Mc-
Lean, who had owned the property for the past 35 years, responded and agreed to meet with Cavileer and Kayla Wilkie, director of design and development. Soon after, they shook hands on a deal. Word of the sale leaked out, and a bidding war ensued, but McLean’s word was gold. “It’s just authentic Texas business and hospitality,” Wilkie says. The high-profile property is the most recent addition to California-based Majestic Realty’s redevelopment project in Fort Worth’s historic entertainment district. The company first partnered with Hickman Cos. of Fort Worth on the project in 2014, when real estate icon Holt Hickman was starting to craft a legacy plan for the 70 acres he owned in the Stockyards. His son and daughter wanted to do more than typical preservation, and they sought Cavileer’s help. A public-private partnership was formed between Majestic, Stockyards Heritage Development Co., and the City of Fort Worth to take the project to the next level. The $200 million plan included the adaptive reuse of the area’s mule barns into a mixed-use shopping and restaurant haven called Mule Alley, which opened in June 2020, and the construction of Hotel Drover, a 200-room luxury Western hotel. Two years after opening, Mule Alley has attracted national brands such as Ariat and Lucchese and restaurateurs Tim Love and Marcus Paslay. Majestic has hired more than 500, making it one of the largest employers in Tarrant County. Hotel Drover opened in 2021 to positive reviews and was recently named the best hotel in North Texas by Travel + Leisure. “It was definitely a labor of love,” says Wilkie, who took the lead on Drover’s design after joining Majestic in 2018.
DYNAMIC DUO
Craig Cavileer and Kayla Wilkie are leading the remake of Fort Worth’s Stockyards district.
LOCAL FLAIR
Wilkie and Cavileer incorporated design elements from DFW vendors throughout the Drover.
Now, she and Cavileer are bringing the same approachably luxurious and Western feel to a 300-unit multifamily development slated for completion in the Stockyards in 2025. “It’s not a repeat of the Drover, but it’s the same sort of DNA,” Cavileer says. Amenities will include a rooftop infinity pool, outdoor community area, golf simulator, and more. Majestic also is developing 15 acres near the turntable inside the Stockyards, on East Exchange, which will house shops, offices, more hotels, and potentially a new headquarters for Professional Bull Riders—the sports organization plans to move from its long-time home in Colorado. They are calling this project “The Festival District,” hoping it will provide even more entertainment options to visitors. “We’re adding more to give people more to do—more reasons to be at the Stockyards,” Cavileer says. “I don’t think Van Gogh painted for money; he painted because he loved it. We’re doing this because we love it, and we hope we make a little money and make it worthwhile.” A total of $500 million is going toward revamping the Stockyards. Renovations to the kitchen at H3 Ranch have already been completed. Work on the hotel is soon to follow; planning has already commenced. Wilkie says the redesign will honor the hotel’s rich history (see sidebar) balanced with a boutique feel. “The history lives on because we put the time into it to make sure that it’s welcomed and appreciated,” she says.
Historic Hotel Revamp
The Stockyards Hotel dates to 1904, when Colonel T.M. Thannisch purchased the property and constructed a two-story building—the largest on Exchange Avenue at the time. It was redone in brick about 10 years later. Over the years, it has housed a few presidents, infamous bank robbers Bonnie and Clyde, and more. “It was a brothel at one time,” Cav- ileer says, noting other past iterations as a drug store and a sewing parlor, too. The hotel’s most recent owner, Bob McLean, has a lineage that extends back to the Hunter Brothers, for whom the hotel’s restaurant is named. “There were three of them, and that’s why it’s called H3 Ranch,” Cavileer says. “They go back to the buffalo trading days. They were partners with Buffalo Bill Cody.” He and Wilkie say they’re excited to tap into the hotel’s previous lives and occupants in their remake. “We really see ourselves as the caretakers to create something that will outlast all of us,” Cavileer says.
SPONSORED SPOTLIGHT
Inside Tito’s Handmade Vodka Lives “Love, Tito’s.”
it all started in austin, texas more than 25 years ago. Tito Beveridge was new to the vodka business, still struggling to make ends meet. One day, he got a phone call from a local nonprofitasking if he would donate a couple cases of vodka for a fundraising event. Beveridge agreed, thinking this would be a great opportunity for folks to taste his new vodka and showed up with several cases. “If you like it, tell 20 of your closest friends,” he said… and they did. They liked the vodka and told their friends—not just about the vodka, but also about how Beveridge would donate it to support charity events, like he’d done for them. The phone started to ring more often, and just like that, philanthropy became part of Tito’s Handmade Vodka.
Every time a member of the Tito’s Team reached out to say, “Thank you for inviting us to help the cause,” they signed offwith “Love, Tito’s.” This salutation became a mantra, which turned into a movement. Love Tito’s, the philanthropic heart of Tito’s Handmade Vodka, has supported tens of thousands of causes through the years—lending a hand to communities affeced by natural disasters, spreading joy to those who need a little more, protecting the environment we all share, and developing programs to better serve our communities.
As Tito’s Handmade Vodka continues to gain momentum across the country, involvement in philanthropy grows in tandem. Beveridge empowers his team to support causes they are passionate about in their local communities, and the more people that join the Tito’s family, the more hearts and hands are out in the world spreading love and goodness.
The goal of Love, Tito’s is simple: To turn spirits into love and goodness. To make the world a better place—in whatever way moves you. Find your passion, and get involved.
Visit titosvodka.com/whats-happening/ to check out some of the latest projects near and dear to Team Tito’s hearts, including work with Dallas’ very own Restorative Farms. Tito’s Summer Mule
INGREDIENTS:
1 1/2z Tito’s Handmade Vodka
2 oz ginger beer
1/2z lime juice
1/4z simple syrup, optional
2 strawberries
3 mint sprigs
DIRECTIONS:
Muddle strawberries into
a Tito’s Copper Mug. Add
remaining ingredients and
ice. Stir and garnish with a
strawberry and mint sprig.
UITY,
AND I N CLUSION
Q E , Y T I DIVER S
story by BRANDON J. CALL portraits by JILL BROUSSARD
opener by THE VOORHES
Some companies are outspoken when it comes to adding their voices to hotbutton political conversations, while others prefer to remain silent. Here are some things to consider when your business is thinking about taking a stand.
A
10%
of U.S. public companies have issued or say they plan to issue a public statement on reproductive rights.
51%
of U.S. public companies have publicly addressed gender equality, LGBTQ rights, or related issues.
60%
of human resource managers say they don’t plan to add Roe v. Wade-related benefits or employees.
AFTER THE U.S. SUPREME COURT’S JUNE 24
ruling overturning the legal precedent for Roe v. Wade, major airline carriers like American Airlines and Southwest did not issue company statements on the hot-button topic, despite a history of taking a public stance on voting reform, affirmative action, and gun control. Alaska Airlines became the first U.S. carrier to put out a statement, confirming its willingness to cover travel costs for employees seeking access to reproductive care. It read: “We will continue, just as we always have, to provide employees with extensive benefits to support your health and well-being, no matter where you live. This includes reimbursing travel for certain medical procedures and treatments if they are not available where you live.”
Closer to home, JPMorgan Chase announced to its 14,600 local employees that it would pay for them to travel to another state to obtain a legal abortion beginning on July 1. Dallas-based Match Group established a partnership with Planned Parenthood in Los Angeles to ensure its employees would have access to abortions if they chose. The technology giant also confirmed it would cover the travel and lodging costs for its employees who would need to travel out of state to receive medical care. And, according to CNBC, California-based Salesforce offered its some 1,000 Dallas-Fort Worth employees relocation assistance to any of its other U.S. offices if they worried about receiving access to abortions or medical care.
But a Gartner poll from late May found that 60 percent of human resource executives said they wouldn’t be adding Roe v. Wade-related benefits. Fewer than 10 percent said their companies would provide compensation for travel costs for reproductive care. In a survey from research nonprofit The Conference Board released in June, 10 percent of the 300 U.S. public companies polled said they had or planned to issue a public statement on reproductive rights. In contrast, 51 percent have publicly addressed other issues such as gender equality, LGBTQ rights, anti-Asian violence, or vaccinations. Most of the companies surveyed said they have responded or planned to respond internally. “Companies should have a clear process and criteria for deciding whether, when, and how to respond to social issues,” says Paul Washington, executive director of The Conference Board. “The pressure to address these and other social issues is unlikely to abate. Having clear guidelines can help set expectations for how the company will respond in the future and ensure that the company is appropriately taking into account the divergent views of multiple stakeholders.”
Locally, the North Texas Commission, led by president and CEO Chris Wallace, has a long history of organizing business sentiment to provide a unified voice when it comes to combatting discriminatory bills proposed by the Texas legislature. In 2017, when the proposed “bathroom bill” that would ban counties, cities, and schools from letting transgender individuals use bathrooms of their choice and, instead, force them to use the gendered bathroom of their birth, more than 1,200 companies statewide signed onto the Texas Competes pledge to help defeat the bill.
“Through the Texas Competes pledge, companies can confirm their commitment to keep the state economically competitive and vibrant while asserting their corporate values of diversity, equity, and inclusion for all of its employees,” Wallace says.
Another resource for businesses is the North Texas LGBT Chamber of Commerce, whose president and CEO Tony Vedda has been instrumental in establishing a coalition of the LGBT Chambers in North Texas, Houston, San Antonio, and Austin, plus more than 1,000 affiliated companies. “Through our advocacy and outreach work, we call upon local elected representatives to introduce and support legislation that encourages diversity in the workplace and opposes discrimination of all kinds,” Vedda says. “In Texas, when business thrives, people prosper. For this to happen, all Texans’ rights must be heard, included, respected, and valued.”
In March, more than 60 corporations signed on to the Human Rights Campaign’s petition to Gov. Abbott’s attempt to criminalize parents for helping their transgen-
A graduate of Jackson State University who earned an MBA from the University of Missouri—St. Louis, Naomi Green moved to Dallas in 2018 and took a general manager role with Smoothie King. Soon thereafter, Green went to an urgent care facility in Garland after feeling some pain in her leg.
NAOMI GREEN
(she/her/hers)
Consultant Crush Limits While keeping his distance from her and unwilling to do a close examination, the doctor told Green that she’d be just fine and sen her home without any medical charges or a care plan. When the pain persisted a couple of days later, Green’s mother insisted that she get a second opinion. Green went to a local emergency room and immediately saw a difference in care. The new doctor put her on IV fluids and odered an ultrasound to uncover that she had a serious infection in her leg. He told her that it was only a matter of days before the infection could turn septic and she could have potentially lost her leg. “Immediately, I realized that the original urgent care doctor didn’t want to touch me or provide care because I was transgender,” Green says. ¶ It took months, several rounds of antibiotics, and emergency surgery to fully heal herself. “A lot of things were going wrong at that time, and I started questioning whether I had made the right decision to move to Dallas,” Green says. Then, a friend introduced her to Abounding Prosperity, an organization whose mission is to address social and health disparities for Black, Indigenous, People of Color (BIPoC), and LGBTQ individuals. Green attended a panel discussion called, “Inviting Transparency,” and found her calling. “It was a lot of soul-searching but that was my aha moment,” Green says. “When I heard that panel, it spoke to my heart, and I knew that I had to get involved in the transgender community.” ¶ Green accepted a job with Abounding Prosperity as a program manager. It was 2019 and a few months before the murder of 22-year-old transgender woman Muhlaysia Booker. “I was called to action,” Green says. “It was also the firt time that I stood up loudly and proudly as an out transgender woman.” ¶ Green left the nonprofi in 2022 to help develop B2C marketing strategies for a LGBTQ woman-owned consulting firm Crush Limits. In he new role, she provides companies both big and small with inclusion-focused guidance on human resources, employee training, recruitment, operations, and compliance. “I’m such a people person and I love building relationships,” she says. “What I love about my new job is being able to connect with business leaders. And at the core of what I do, I’m still getting to help people.”
Born and raised in rural northern Florida, Avery Belyeu has forged a career path in community advocacy and nonprofits Her first professional job ater completing her undergraduate degree at Appalachian State University was during graduate school at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro in student affairs.
AVERY BELYEU
(she/her/hers)
South Central Regional Director Lambda Legal Despite the school having a large LGBTQ student population, there were no resources available for students. So, Belyeu helped create a safe zone training program to help train higher education professionals on the needs of LGBTQ students. ¶ Belyeu moved to New York in 2011 and into an education director role for The Trevor Project, the world’s largest suicide prevention and crisis intervention organization for LGBTQ youth. After spending more than three years with the nonprofit, Beleu brought her experience to the Suicide Prevention Resource Center in Boston. ¶ “The goal with my career has always been to try to make the world a more just and equal place—particularly a place where all people and communities can thrive,” she says. ¶ Belyeu moved to Dallas seven years ago and was named the regional director of Lambda Legal in 2018. Founded 49 years ago, it’s a civil rights organization that is committed to achieving full rights for LGBTQ individuals, as well as people living with HIV/ AIDs, through litigation, education, and public policy work. “When you think about it, we are creating and affecting large-scale, systemic change,” Belyeu says. “Lambda Legal doesn’t just make individual lives better—we don’t just have an impact on small communities—we make our entire country better.” ¶ A firt-generation college student whose mother cleaned homes for a living and whose father worked in a grocery store, Belyeu grew up in a very religious household; her parents are Jehovah’s Witness. Expelled from the faith in her 20s when she came out as a gay man, Belyeu hasn’t seen her parents in 13 years. She knew she was transgender at the age of 25 and decided to transition fie years later. ¶ “I’ve always considered myself a feminist,” she says. “But honestly, the biggest thing that I was blindsided by in the transition process was sexism. I didn’t understand just how pervasive it is in our culture until I experienced it myself.” ¶ Through attending the Temple Emanu-El in Dallas, Belyeu says she has found healing in religious spaces. And as one of a handful of trans women in a leadership position at a national LGBTQ organization, Belyeu says she sees herself not as a role model but as a possibility model. “I believe the table is big enough for all of us,” she says. “I am uncompromising in the belief that everyone should have a seat at the table.”
der child access medically necessary, age-appropriate, and gender-affirming healthcare in the state. A March 14 ad in The Dallas Morning News declared in bold type: “Discrimination is bad for business.”
AUTHENTICITY AND BELONGING
One of the local companies that signed the petition was Neiman Marcus Group. Eric Severson, the company’s chief people and belonging officer, says that the discriminatory policy didn’t align with its “Lead with Love” and “Stand for Love for All” mantras. “We were one of the first Dallas-based companies that signed this letter to show our support for the LGBTQ community,” Severson says. “NMG is a place where everyone belongs, where diversity of thought is valued, and where showing up as your full and authentic self is encouraged. We believed the executive order directly contradicted our policies and targeted people who make up our business, so we spoke out to advocate for them and the communities we serve.”
In addition, Neiman Marcus Group announced its platinum-level sponsorship of the Human Rights Campaign and garnered point-of-sale and employee donations during the month of June and July in all Neiman Marcus, Bergdorf Goodman, and Last Call stores. “Our unique ‘NMG|Way’ of belonging champions workplace equity for all associates through a mindset of love,” Severson says. “Partnering with the Human Rights Campaign is just one way that enables us to continue this important year-round work.”
Plano-based Alkami is another local company that signed the HRC’s March petition. CEO Alex Shootman released a trans-inclusive statement on International Transgender Day of Visibility earlier this year affirming
Paul Washington THE CONFERENCE BOARD
the company’s stance. “Always remember, true allyship is not a single action but a sustainable behavior that creates a more inclusive environment for everyone,” he said. “At Alkami, we are proud to cultivate a workplace for everyone who is passionate about digital banking.”
Dallas-based AMN Healthcare was yet another signee to the petition. Following its top ranking in the last HRC Corporate Equality Index, the company’s CEO released the following public statement: “Equality in the workplace is vital to our team members and to the success of our company,” she said. “AMN has an active strategy to enhance equality, diversity, and inclusion, and we seek to evolve our strategy based on our success metrics. We are convinced that we can all achieve our personal and professional goals only when we capitalize on our differing backgrounds, experiences, and perspectives, and when we embrace equality in our workforce, workplace, and marketplace.”
When making the all-important decision whether to comment publicly on political issues, Bernadette Davis, founder and chief strategist of Plano-based Bernadette Davis Communications, recommends taking a hard look at company values, what matters most, and,
BEST PRACTICES: According to the Human Rights Campaign’s 2022 Corporate Equality Index report, 91 percent of Fortune 500 companies include gender identity in their nondiscrimination policies. That number is up from just 3 percent two decades ago. Notably, several local companies earned a rating of 100 percent on the 2022 report, including AT&T and American Airlines. To score a 100 percent on this year’s edition, companies had to provide access to transgender-inclusive healthcare benefits, etablish mandatory gender transition guidelines, and promote workplace policies to ensure gender inclusivity. “By using the Corporate Equality Index criteria as a guide, businesses can help ensure that their existing policy and benefits infastructure is inclusive of LGBTQ workers and their families,” says Joni Madison, interim president of the HRC.
10%
of HR managers say their companies will cover employees’ travel costs related to reproductive care.
1,500+
companies have signed on to support the Texas Competes pledge, as of August 2022.
74
companies signed the Human Rights Campaign’s March petition in support of parents of transgender children in Texas.
1k
Texas companies support the Texas Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender Queer (LGBTQ) Chamber of Commerce.
842
companies achieved a top score of 100 on the Human Rights Campaign’s 2022 Corporate Equality Index.
138
companies representing nearly every business sector participated in the HRC’s CE Index for the firt time this year.
63%
of Americans are opposed to allowing transgender athletes compete on teams that align with their gender identity.
77%
of American voters support equal rights and protections for transgender employees in the workplace.
Tony Vedda NORTH TEXAS LGBTQ CHAMBER OF COMMERCE
most important, what affects employees and community. “When they see something they can address that is within their sphere influence that is aligned with their corporate values that they want to support, or maybe is not aligned and they want to make it clear that it is not aligned, that’s the time to speak up,” Davis says.
Increasingly, Davis says, stakeholders—customers, clients, partners, and employees—are paying more attention to company statements. “If you have something that you think is important from a justice standpoint, from an equality point, it stands out to people when a brand they care about takes a stand,” she says. “That being said, it has to be aligned with your company values and actions. What we saw in the summer of 2020 was a lot of companies that stood up and said things that weren’t aligned with the way that they operate every day.”
Davis says businesses tend to favor taking stances on issues that have a majority of public support because issuing a statement that customers do not agree with can affect the bottom line. “One of the biggest things companies need to keep in mind—and this has been true for years now—is the need to treat their internal and external messaging the same,” she says. “Whether you have thousands of employees or a few dozen, what you are saying to your employees should align with what you are saying to your customers, and vice versa.”
IMPACT ON TALENT
Taking a political stance can also affect your company’s position in the marketplace to recruit and retain talent. For instance, a Gallup research poll suggests that 21 percent of Gen Z identifies as LGBTQ and nearly twothirds of Gen Z say they are worried about the state of LGBTQ rights in the United States. “That’s a plurality of the next generation that identify and look favorably upon equal rights for LGBTQ people,” Davis says. “If you’re a business owner and want to keep operating in the future, that’s your next customer base. That’s where you’re going to recruit your new talent. Gen Z increasingly makes purchasing and employment decisions around what aligns with their values.”
For Monica Greene, an iconic Dallas restaurateur who transitioned from male to female in 1994 and has been a longtime transgender community advocate, the state’s recent legislation banning transgender athletes from competing in high school sports is another example of discriminatory lawmaking. Greene says it will be up to future generations to make the world a better place for all. “There is so much transphobia and hate in today’s society,” she says. “We’ve become so divided politically. But I have to hold out hope for the next generation and their collective sense of justice and compassion. The pendulum may be swaying in one direction politically right now, but I choose to see light in the next generation and how it places an emphasis on equality for every human being. I don’t believe we’ll be having any of these same debates in 20 years from now, when one’s humanity will be all that matters.”
A GUIDE TO PRONOUNS: You may have seen more pronouns appearing in your co-workers’ and clients’ email signatures and social media bios. What do they mean? The pronouns “he/him/his” and “she/her/hers” mean the individual identifies as either male or emale on the binary scale. Some non-binary (those who don’t identify as either male or female) and transgender people prefer “they/them/theirs,” which is gender-neutral. If you’re ever confused about someone’s gender, simply ask: “What pronouns do you use?” The word cisgender (those who identify as the same gender as birth) has its origin in the Latin-derived prefix, cis, meaning on this side of.” It’s the opposite of trans, meaning “on the other side of.” Cisgender individuals can show they are allies by adding pronouns to their e-mail signatures and helping to normalize the conversation around gender identity.
Born and raised in Plano to a first-genertion immigrant parent who moved to the United States after the Iranian Revolution, Jessie Kiannejad came out as queer in his teen years. “My legal name is not Jessie, but I’ve always identified as Jessie, he says.
JESSIE KIANNEJAD
(he/him/his)
Global Sales Account Manager Hewlett Packard Enterprise “For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been attracted to women, and, through therapy, only recently was I able to identify the body dysmorphia I experienced growing up.” ¶ After graduating from the University of North Texas in 2016, Kiannejad began his career in aviation and logistics. However, he didn’t feel comfortable at one of his firt employers out of college, and so he involuntarily came out of the closet at the office. “I hid that part of me for a long time,” he says. “I didn’t talk about my personal life, and I certainly didn’t mix personal and professional.” ¶ It wasn’t until 2019—and a change of industries—that Kiannejad felt comfortable to begin to show his true self at work. That’s also around the time that he met his future wife at a Dallas Pride event. ¶ During the pandemic and working from home, and with his partner’s full support, Kiannejad began researching the transitioning process. He decided to have surgery and started hormones to aid in his transition from female to male. “There is no right or wrong way to transition,” he says. “You can choose to have hormones or you can choose to not have hormones. You can decide to have surgery or you can decide not to. For me, hormones and seeking gender-affirming medical cae have given me more confidene. I can now better identify with my body, and I feel more like my whole self.” ¶ Kiannejad also became very active in Hewlett Packard Enterprises’ Pride resource group, volunteering as vice president of the group and helping to draft resources for other LGBTQ employees. He officially came out transgender at work in an internal e-mail to colleagues on International Transgender Day of Visibility. “It was the best thing ever,” Kiannejad says. “Now, I get to show up to work as my true and authentic self, and I don’t feel like I must hide who I am to co-workers. It is incredibly freeing.” ¶ Kiannejad says that HPE’s LGBTQ ally group outnumbers its LGBTQ employees. “Allies are so important in the workplace because they have an influene that can often times carry more weight,” he says. “Just knowing that I have an incredible support group where I work every day is helpful, and I think allyship should be welcomed and celebrated in every workplace.”
Dynasty
Longtime Corpus Christi executive Sam Susser sold the convenience store empire he built for $2.4 billion. Now in DFW, he aims to replicate his success—in the banking industry.
story by
BARRY SHLACHTER
portraits by
JONATHAN ZIZZO
It was an ordinary day in 2014 when Sam Lewis Susser’s life changed in an instant.
The then-51-year-old gas station tycoon had expressed interest in buying a chain of East Coast convenience stores acquired two years before by Dallas-based Energy Transfer Partners from Sunoco. Susser’s overture was rejected. Instead, Energy Transfer called two weeks later with a radically differentproposition—not to sell stores but to buy Susser’s own publicly traded company for $2.4 billion.
At the time, Susser Holdings Corp. was among the largest companies based in Corpus Christi, doing $6.7 billion in revenue from its 640 convenience stores (most operating under the Stripes brand) in Texas, Oklahoma, Louisiana, and New Mexico. Giving up a promising career on Wall Street, Susser founded the venture with fivestores in 1988, originally to provide crucial business for his family’s collapsing wholesale fuel company. He ended up building Susser Holdings into a Fortune 500 company, but not without overcoming immense challenges along the way.
Susser would later tell American Banker, “I literally cried like a baby at the closing table—it so broke my heart. That was my blood, sweat, and tears for 28 years.”
“It was a very sad day for Sam, and it probably still is today,” says David Engel, a member of the Susser Holdings’ board and a family friend. “He loved that company. He loved his employees. But, you know, we received an offerthat the board felt we needed to take.”
If not for the sale of the C-store empire, there would be no Susser Bank. In two transactions, the firt in 2018, he bought what was then Affil ted Bank of Arlington with some of the proceeds of the sale to Energy Transfer. It has since grown from $650 million in assets to more than $1.57 billion. Susser and his family control “more than 40 percent, less than 50 percent” of the state-chartered financial intitution, he told D CEO.
His aim is to expand the reach of the middle-market bank by applying lessons learned as an entrepreneur dealing with lenders. “I spent 28 years as a borrower, an entrepreneur, on my knees begging for capital everywhere,” Susser says. “I have an appreciation of what our clients are going through that most bankers don’t. I know what it feels like when your banker doesn’t show up or when they change their terms. I’m trying to build a company that entrepreneurs can count on.”
With his name stamped on the bank, Susser says his family’s reputation is at stake, along with a 100-year vision for its staying power. Hence the slogan, “Built to Last, Not to Sell.”
HOW IT ALL BEGAN
Energy Transfer’s acquisition of Susser Holdings rocked Corpus Christi, which over the years has seen other successful enterprises decamp for bigger cities—H-E-B and Whataburger for San Antonio, TRT Holdings (Omni Hotels) and Andrews Distributing to Dallas. “A blow to the region’s psyche,” is the way Hans Schumann, an economics professor at Texas A&M Kingsville, described it to the Corpus Christi Caller-Timesafter Susser’s bombshell announcement: “It’s frustrating sometimes … to see them grow up and leave the nest.”
Making the departure from Corpus all the more poignant was the fact that the Susser family traced its local roots back nearly 160 years and had long participated in the city’s business and civic life. Although Sam and his wife Catherine still maintain a home in the city after moving their main residence to Dallas, she left in the middle of her second term as an elected member of the city’s school board, on which she had served as president.
Sam L. Susser, in his Old Parkland office. His company was doing $6.7 billion in revenue when he sold it in 2014.
A forebear named David Hirsch arrived in Corpus Christi in 1868. A German Jewish immigrant who ran a dry goods business, he helped establish the firedepartment. He also helped start First National Bank of Corpus Christi and what would become the Texas-Mexican Railroad, both with his friend, Capt. Richard King of King Ranch fame. Even after a local newspaper attacked Hirsh for observing the Sabbath, calling it “an affron” to the Christian community, King remained a loyal friend. When Hirsch’s firt wife, Jeannette Weil, died, King’s sonin-law refused to allow the burial of a Jewess in the local cemetery, forcing Hirsch to send her remains by covered wagon to Gonzales, 133 miles away. King, who had been out of town at the time, was so outraged by his son-in-law’s actions, he donated land for Corpus Christi’s Hebrew Rest Cemetery.
Hirsch’s nephew, an Alsatian Jewish immigrant named Charles Weil, bought 40,000 acres of grazing land adjacent to the King Ranch. (It gained notoriety when Fred Gipson, author of Old Yeller, wrote a string of newspaper stories about life on the Weil Ranch.)Weil had 11 children, Susser says. The male heirs got ranch land, became prosperous “and Episcopalian,” while the females got stocks, bonds, and jewelry. Every fiveyears, some 300 of the family’s 500 living relatives still show up for a reunion.
“My grandmother Minna descended from the girls’ side,” Susser says. “The cash was gone, but she got some jewelry and two service stations.” Orphaned at 12, she led an elite, Driving Miss Daisylife, educated at boarding schools, polished in Europe, and graduated from The University of Texas at Austin. She received rent from the operators of the two fillingstations in Victoria and was raised by her guardians, an aunt and uncle, the Alexanders. They disapproved of her suitor, Sam Susser, a nearly penniless son of Russian Jewish immigrants who spoke no English. No chauffeursor posh schools for Susser—who didn’t have a birth certificte, a middle name or even a middle initial—but would give himself July 4th as his birthday and called himself “Senator Sam.” For four years, he hitchhiked six miles from the small town of Bishop to attend what today is Texas A&M University-Kingsville.
After college, he was looking for a hitch to San Antonio, but a farmer offeredhim a ride east to Corpus Christi instead. There, he talked a banker into giving him an entry-level job. According to family legend, he squabbled with Minna over who had dibs on a chair at a Jewish singles dance. It was their firt meeting, and they quickly became smitten with one another. But the Alexanders opposed the match. With no
THE SUSSER BUSINESS LINEAGE
1886
Louis Susser is born in Russia. In 1908, he immigrates to the U.S.
1937
His son, “Senator” Sam Susser, forms Susser Petroleum with two gas stations. inherited by his wife.
continued from page 049
1983
Sons Sam J. and Jerry Susser acquire Susser Petroleum from their father.
1988
Sam L. Susser founds Susser Holdings Corp. In 2006, it starts trading on Nasdaq.
1994
Susser Holdings buys Susser Petroleum from Sam J. and Jerry Susser. It goes public as an MLP on the NYSE in 2012.
2014
Kelcy Warren’s Energy Transfer acquires Susser Holdings in a $2.4 billion deal.
2018
Sam L. Susser buys Affil ted Bank. He rebrands it as Susser Bank in 2021.
2022
In under four years, Susser expands the bank and grows it to $1.65 billion in assets. family blessing, the couple eloped and honeymooned in Galveston. Minna’s relatives refused to talk to the newlyweds for two years.
“I always thought that was a very telling comment about discrimination and how, within the same family—even the same religion—family members in a small town like Corpus Christi in the 1920s could discriminate against one another,” Susser says about his grandparents’ experiences. “I often tell this story when I do our ‘Susser Playbook’ meetings at the bank.”
Meant to impart definingcompany values, the playbook sessions start with stories to spur discussion with smartphones turned off. “Complete engagement,” Susser says. “We are striving to build a true meritocracy, where what matters are the results you generate and the way you treat people. I always ask during playbook sessions, ‘Do you know what a meritocracy is?’ A few hands always go up — ‘No, I don’t know what that means.’ And that gives me the opportunity to go to a whiteboard, looping back to the story of my grandparents and the discrimination that occurred, and how we want our company to be a place where we don’t care what you look like. We don’t care if you’re Black, brown, polka-dotted, gay, or straight. It doesn’t matter to us. We don’t want to be like our forefathers.”
‘ALWAYS AT THE BLEEDING EDGE’
Susser’s namesake grandfather founded Susser Petroleum, starting with Minna’s two fillingstations. He also invested in industrial space, medical buildings, and other businesses. When a tenant left a warehouse full of auto parts, Senator Sam’s sons, Sam J. and Jerry, were charged with liquidating the abandoned inventory. It proved surprisingly easy. They unwittingly set their prices lower, having skirted a layer or two of middlemen. That provided inspiration for Continental Parts Co., a wholesale operation they based in Dallas, later with branches in Corpus Christi and Atlanta. The business was sold in 1979.
Back in Corpus, the Sussers saw lines of cars filling up at their contract gas stations. The system relied on a special key; the sale was recorded, and customers were billed at the end of each month. But the mechanism broke, and the pump stayed open, allowing people to run offwith 10,000 gallons of fuel. The loss prompted Susser Petroleum to ask IBM for a remedy, which led to an invention created by fiveex-NASA engineers (who had worked on the Apollo Mission) that would revolutionize the retail gas industry. The family developed the firt automated pay-at-the-pump system but never figuredout how to profitfrom it. Susser says the technology was later sold to a pump manufacturer, William M. Wilson & Sons, “for not much, under a million dollars, but probably worth a gazillion today if we had kept a percentage of it.”
Another IBM-derived innovation was a computer link that controlled electricity use in the family’s offic buildings, years before Johnson Controls and Honeywell entered the field.“I believe we were the firt to remotely control electricity from one computer,” Susser says. “Again, we couldn’t figureout how to make any money at it. My Uncle Jerry would say, ‘We’re always at the bleeding edge,’ meaning we probably got nothing when we sold that business. We were good at selling fuel; we were terrible at manufacturing.”
After the auto parts business was sold, his father went to work for Dallas’ Southland Corp. to stabilize fuel deliveries to its 7-Eleven chain following the Middle East embargos. As a senior vice president, Sam J. Susser was instrumental in acquiring Cities Service (Citgo); 7-Eleven didn’t need billions of dollars in gasoline reserves, it just needed a secure supply.
In 1983, Sam J. and his brother Jerry bought out their father’s interest in the family fuel distribution business and expanded it materially. They also began developing condos on Padre Island. But Susser Petroleum hit rough sailing. Many of its wholesale fuel customers missed payments on their gasoline and diesel purchases, and about a third of the company’s 30,000 credit card customers were delinquent, too. “We lost millions of dollars of accounts receivables,” Susser says. “It wasn’t computerized. When we cut them off,
From left: Sam L. Susser, his uncle Jerry Susser, and father Sam J. Susser, at one of their Stripes stores.
SAM L. SUSSER
we didn’t get paid what we were owed. And that wasn’t our only problem.”
From 1980 through 1989, 425 Texas commercial banks failed, including nine of the state’s 10 largest bank holding companies, according to the FDIC. All of the Sussers’ banks went under, and the family’s lines of credit were not renewed.
“It was vicious. If banks were healthy, they could have renewed our [credit lines], and we’d have been able to work out our problems a lot easier,” Susser says. An Oklahoma firmcharged Susser Petroleum 50 percent interest. After about six months, it found a Houston lender that charged “only” 12 to 14 percent. “We were constantly refinancingfrom 1988 to 1992,” Susser says. “My dad was earning money from being on the board of Citgo and as CEO of Plexus Financial Services, and the last thing we needed was for him to quit that stuffand come down to Corpus to work with Jerry because he was making a good income, which was very helpful to a family that had no income.” Jerry, who ran the company day to day, was unmatched at dealing with employees and clients, but he did not know financials.“And the problem we had in 1988 was financials” Susser says.
(Above) They had to elope due to her family’s objections, but Minna and Sam Susser proved that love conquers all.
(Top left) Sam L. Susser with his wife, children, and parents, at the New York Stock Exchange in 2012.
(Left) Corpus Christi business icon Sam J. Susser, shown with his wife Pat, passed away in July 2022 at the age of 82.
Susser says he has crafted a 100year plan for his bank; it focuses on growth, technology, and culture.
At the time, the younger Susser was in his third year working on mergers and acquisitions in New York for Salomon Brothers, which he joined after graduating from UT (where he was on the Longhorns’ golf team). He was on assignment in Dallas when his father asked him to attend a meeting at a bank. The negotiations were successful, but only because his father and uncle gave personal guarantees. They would have been hard pressed to write a check for all the millions if asked
SAM L. SUSSER
to deliver on the commitment, Susser says. “Our eyes locked, and I knew that my career on Wall Street had ended,” he says. “I had no desire to do this, but my family needed me. There was no choice. We couldn’t affordto hire anybody else. We couldn’t affordbankruptcy lawyers. “I had to lay offa man who had been with us 40 years driving trucks and had been at my bar mitzvah,” Susser continues. “We couldn’t give him 10-day severance because we couldn’t make payroll. We were scared. I can’t tell you how scared we were. This was a very, very, very tough time for my father and uncle, but we became incredibly close.” The solution to saving Susser Petroleum would be fuel orders from a startup that eventually would be called Susser Holdings Corp. “We had to raise $14 million to get it done when we were busted, and the banks had closed all of our notes,” Susser says. “It was the hardest financingI ever worked on.” In the end, they recruited about 14 investors, including a member of Southland’s Thompson family.
The early years were rocky. Citigroup extended a mezzanine loan, a term loan, and a revolving loan. “They took complete advantage of us because
we had no other options, and they knew it,” Susser says. But after the bankruptcies of Circle K and 7-Eleven, also Citigroup clients, the bank canceled the term loan before it expired and wouldn’t renew the revolving loan, even though the company was performing well. Susser Holdings was being punished for being in the same industry, being told by their banker: “Our portfolio is long on convenience [stores], and we want you out.”
The company succeeded through teamwork. Susser’s father leveraged his business relationships, his uncle Jerry relied on his operating skills, and Susser tapped into his ability to raise capital. “This wasn’t the Sam L. show,” he says. “We needed each other.”
WRITING THE NEXT CHAPTER
After the 2014 sale to Energy Transfer, Susser moved out of the Stripes chain headquarters in Corpus and took an offic with Susser Holdings board member Engel in the city’s downtown. “He started working on the next phase of his life,” Engel says. “An opportunity came in banking, which really fitshis personality because he’s a people person and a great networker. It’s such a perfect fitfor him. He understands banking from the customer’s perspective, and that really is the culture Sam is building at Susser Bank.”
Affil ted Bank had begun life in 1959 as an Arlington-based credit union for employees of supermarkets belonging to the Affil ted Foods cooperative. It later became one of the relatively few conversions from a nonprofitcredit union to a commercial bank. Garry Graham, its leader, had met Susser in 2016 at an industry gathering and visited over a Diet Coke. Acquisition negotiations began the next year, and the deal closed in 2018. The Federal Reserve took 11 months to approve the deal. Susser commuted to North Texas for several years until buying a home in Dallas.
Since taking over, Susser has shifted the bank away from a focus on real estate loans. “We prefer as much diversifiction as possible,” he says, noting new business from software developers, among other clients. “In addition to loans and deposits, we are able to deliver wealth management and investment banking services that are far beyond what you’d expect from a medium-size Texas-based bank.” He cited an example of calling in outside specialists to work out the sale of a large, family-owned business, along with long-term investment strategies.
But, as always, there would be bumps in the road. In late 2019, Susser publicly announced an agreement to
Susser says he has received a warm welcome in DFW.
Before deciding what new business to build after the $2.4 billion sale of his company, Susser looked at where to build it. He wanted a place with a strong local economy and a happening vibe that would appeal to his three adult children. Sophie, 24, is working for a P.E. firm in Nw York. Sam, 22, is working in investment banking, also in New York. And Eli, 19, is studying at SMU’s Cox School of Business. “Nothing is more important to us than our kids,” Susser says. “We taught them to work hard and to be independent, and we knew they weren’t coming back to Corpus Christi. So, we looked around and said, ‘What place has the best economy? Where is the best place to reposition our family after 170 years?’ Because we can live anywhere. We chose Dallas-Fort Worth. And with that in the decision matrix, I went and found a business, a bank that happens to be in the heart of DFW. We are scaling it to become something big, special, and lasting. This community has opened its arms to us. We’re filled wit gratitude that we get included—not just invited, but included. There is a difference.” acquire SouthWest Bancshares of Odessa. He planned to use the move to rebrand Affil ted as SouthWest Bank. But regulators requested updated business performance projections. It was the spring of 2020, the Covid-19 pandemic was raging, airlines shut down, and the price of Permian Basin crude dropped to a negative $40 a barrel.
“Regulators made a reasonable request for information that we couldn’t reasonably provide,” Susser says. The deal collapsed, and Affil ted wired a cancellation penalty. The amount is confidential,but including lawyers’ fees and other expenses, the hit was more than $2 million. “It definitelywas the biggest setback,” Susser says.
Garry Graham, Affil ted’s chief who was kept on after Susser bought the bank, suggested renaming it Susser Bank. After thinking about it, Susser agreed. “We wanted to launch that new face of a bank with a name that would be ours forever,” he says. “We’re not big fans of silly, manufactured names created by branding consultants. They’re great for sign manufacturers, but they don’t mean anything. Our reputation is everything. And any name other than ‘Susser’ reduces the pressure on our family to be the best we can be every day.”
He says his mission is to be aggressive, fair, and faster than competitors. But he is also taking a long view and is patient enough to realize that he doesn’t have to hit all his growth targets overnight. Looking at the state’s banking landscape, Susser says his direct competitors include many potential sellers—family-owned “lifestyle” banks that are doing well but happy with the status quo. He aims to leverage that and be a differe tiator and says Susser Bank has a 100-year plan. “We are the opposite of a lifestyle bank,” he says. “We’re going to invest and grow and strive to make great returns for our shareholders, and we’re going to try to be a killer place to work and do business.”
Susser is investing a lot of time on culture, hiring top talent, and giving the bank’s technology infrastructure a complete overhaul. “Having built a business from 30 employees to 12,000, I know that system implementations are the hardest thing you can do,” he says. “When you’re smaller, it’s easier. Now, we’re growing like crazy because we have our systems in place. We’ve been on a huge hiring spree, opening in Dallas, Austin, San Antonio, and Houston—all in the last year.
“We’ve built the foundation,” Susser continues, “and now we’re gaining traction. We need to keep going at this pace for another two or three years to achieve appropriate efficie y and profitabiliy metrics. But we have a plan, and we’re working it.”
SEPTEMBER 2021 story by BEN SWANGER portrait by JONATHAN ZIZZO DCEOMAGAZINE. COM ENEMY
Former FBI exec Robert Anderson Jr. dodged bullets and bombs in war zones around the world and led investigations into Edward Snowden and the cyber-attack on Sony, allegedly by North Korea. Today, he’s battling cybercriminals and protecting businesses as the CEO of Cyber Defense Labs.
DCEOMAGAZINE.COM SEPTEMBER 20 21 055 AT THEGATESENEMY
“WAR? IS THIS AN ACT OF WAR?” ROBERT ANDERSON JR. WONDERED,
AFTER BEING BRIEFED THAT THE NORTH KOREAN GOVERNMENT ALLEGEDLY INFILTRATED AND EXPOSED SONY PICTURES ENTERTAINMENT’S CONFIDENTIAL
BUSINESS RECORDS. HE WAS JUST A YEAR REMOVED FROM INDICTING EDWARD SNOWDEN ON ACTS OF ESPIONAGE . AND NOW, MORE SHIT WAS HITTING THE FAN.
“When the guano hits the rotating oscillator,” says George Newstrom, former president of NTT Data Services’ federal government group, “nobody knows how to respond better than Bob Anderson.”
For the first time in American history, the U.S. Intelligence community, the FBI, and private sector cyber defense companies worked together to resolve a cyberattack. At the forefront of it all was Anderson, who led more than 20,000 FBI operatives as the bureau’s executive assistant director of the criminal, cyber, response, and services branch—No. 3 in the entire organization.
“They destroyed thousands and thousands of computers,” Anderson says. “But in this case, Sony was a wake-up call to corporations everywhere. You always need to be evaluating your risk continuum on a cyber scale; unfortunately, I think companies have a short memory when it comes to cyber protection.”
Anderson, who led the successful resolution of more than 20 spy cases during his FBI tenure from 1995 to 2016, is now erecting protective walls around businesses across America as chairman and CEO of Cyber Defense Labs, a Dallas-based private cybersecurity company formed in 2012. When Anderson joined in 2019, his first meeting with the team—around two folding tables—included the company’s entire staffof seven; three years later, the operation has a clientele of Fortune 100companies, and Anderson is not afraid to boast about its potential.
“I want to build this into the best cyber company in the history of the United States,” he says. “Some people think I think too big—but not me. If you’re not thinking big, you’re never even going to break even.”
Anderson has always had big ambitions to lead an elite group of people, according to those who know him. It all started, though, in lowly horse stables operated by his father in Wilmington, Delaware.
A WORLD WAR II veteran who later worked in construction, Anderson’s father oversaw a stable of harness racing horses. Anderson worked there every weekend and summer, cleaning stalls, carrying water buckets, and walking horses to a blacksmith shop. In that time, Anderson says he learned many lessons from his father, many of which he shrugged offat the time, but now as a chief executive has come to fully appreciate.
“Now, I think, ‘Oh, my dad did know what was right,’” Anderson says. “I see many people fail because they don’t listen to the men and women around them. Leadership comes with a responsibility to listen.”
After graduating from the Delaware State Police Academy in 1988, Anderson finally found a sense of belonging—and what he believed was his calling. As a 21-year-old trooper, he assumed he had all the answers, overlooking lessons his father tried to teach him. His first opportunity to shine came just weeks after getting his badge.
Anderson was pumping gas into his squad car when a radio call reported an active robbery in progress at the Dunkin’ Donuts in town, about 350 feet away. Anderson stopped pumping gas and rushed over to the store, but the culprits had already hurried off.He took down information from the victims, began to dial up an all-points bulletin, and that is when his sergeant arrived on the scene.
During his time in law enforcement, Anderson was crosstrained as a nationally registered paramedic (top right) and pilot. Anderson received the Presidential Rank Award, the U.S.’s highest honor presented to senior government executives.
But when Anderson’s higher-up arrived, the crisis immediately changed. Over the dispatch, Anderson heard, “400 gallons of leaking gas coming from a gas station parking lot.”
Several fire trucks passed by. He and his sergeant peeked around the side of Anderson’s car. There they saw the gas nozzle, hose, and dispenser severed from the pump. He thought it was the end of his career. Although he was disciplined, he kept his job. Anderson says that correction propelled the rest of his trooper career. He went on to work cases of domestic violence, rape, homicide, robbery, and fatal car accidents, and eventually won Delaware State Trooper of the Year in 1990 after running into a burning home to try to save a family.
Eight-and-a-half years into being an officer, Anderson was driving down a road in Delaware, when he was pulled over by an FBI official who had previously worked with Anderson. “He knew exactly who I was, and he handed me an application and said, ‘You need to be an FBI agent.’” Anderson was hesitant about the idea but sent in an application anyway. “The FBI was never some bright shining star for me,” he says. Four months later, he was in the FBI Academy.
“Every one of my classmates was either a lawyer, a doctor, an engineer, a NASA veteran, or some other higher stature, and I was a state cop,” he says. “I did not fit in.” Anderson made it through training and picked up his first assignment in the nation’s capital in the mid-1990s. He worked in narcotics and violent crime at the Washington Metropolitan Field Office as part of a major narcotics squad. At the time, Anderson says, it was considered the most dangerous field office in America.
FIRST PERSON P.O.V.
This past March, Robert Anderson published his fir t book, L.E.T.S. Lead. It details significant caeer moments, ranging from the time he ran into a burning building to try to save a family to office scuffles t FBI HQ. “Bob has never not delivered on something,” says Randy Coleman, retired FBI executive assistant director. “Fifteen years ago, he told me he was going to write a book. He always kept a journal and would write little bubble notes down, and I’ll be damned, he did it.” Cyber Defense Labs board member George Newstrom sees similarities to a Dallas business icon in Anderson, who dedicated the book to his son, Dr. Robert Joseph Anderson. “Much like I used to see Ross Perot’s grandkids in his office during the workday, Bob functions the same way—as a family man.”
HE QUICKLY joined the Washington Metropolitan SWAT Team—one of the most active SWAT units within the FBI, Anderson says. He later tried out and was admitted onto the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team—where he deployed to more than 20 countries, including war zones in Kosovo, Serbia, and Pakistan. He was constantly dodging bullets and bombs and broke a total of 12 bones. During his tenure on the hostage rescue team, Anderson was involved in six rescues within the continental U.S. where all hostages were rescued successfully. But Anderson’s most frightening moment, he says, came in what should have been a routine wintertime training exercise. His assault team was fast-roping out of a helicopter and onto a moving boat over the Potomac River below. “I had already been to Kosovo twice, and I chased Eric Rudolph (the Olympic Park bomber) around the woods for months—I’m a pretty seasoned guy, right? Well, I had a bad feeling about this exercise, and I voiced that,” Anderson says. He was the No. 1 guy on the team, making him the firt in line. A team member on the boat held on to the rope while Anderson descended, connected only by his hands. Not even halfway down, the boat captain slipped on the throttle, and the boat lost pace with the helicopter. The sudden movement catapulted Anderson, who had 70 pounds of gear strapped to him, into the sky. He desperately clung to the rope, moving at about 17 miles per hour, dangling upside down between a freezing river and helicopter blades. “I’m going to die,” Anderson remembers thinking. “I’m going to fall off his rope. There’s no way I’m making it out.” After what seemed like a lifetime, the boat was steadied, and Anderson got close enough to where he could land in the boat. “The rope was cut, and no one else went down,” he says. “Our leader came up to me and said I was right. That was a big deal for me. I still don’t know how I held on. Fear will do a lot for a person.” In 2001, Anderson was promoted to FBI headquarters and worked as a supervisory special agent for the counterintelligence division. Along with thousands of others, he investigated the 9/11 attacks. Afterward, a 058 SEPTEMBER 2022 DCEOMAGAZINE. COM
new form of assault on U.S. soil began to take off: cyberattacks. In 2008,
Anderson was promoted to chief of the counterespionage section in the counterintelligence division at FBI HQ. Working alongside Anderson as his assistant director was Randy Coleman, a now corporate security exec. “I became an expert in cybersecurity because of Bob,” Coleman says. Together, the two worked on hundreds of investigations. But the one that sticks out the most is Edward Snowden— who stole 1.7 million classified documents from the NSA in 2013. “Bob was under immense pressure from all ends of Pennsylvania
Avenue to solve this case,” Coleman says. “They wanted a solution, and they wanted it right away.” Anderson and his team worked on the matter 24 hours a day to deliver quick results. “Bob demanded everything from us,” Coleman says.
“That’s just the type of leader he is. He demands the best but also inspires those around him to be the best.” The situation called for an all-out effort. “What Snowden did was the greatest national security breach in the history of the U.S.,” Anderson says. “He was the quickest individual in my entire career indicted for espionage. It took five days to convict him on multiple counts.” For 90 days following the verdict, Anderson was in charge of briefing FBI, White House, and Department of Justice officials on the status of the case. Snowden had fled America and found refuge in Russia.
Once there, the U.S. government was never able to—and has never been able to—get their hands on him. Despite it all, Anderson maintains one thing: “Snowden, in my opinion, is a horrible hacker.” $1 TRILLION. That is the size of the cybercrime industry, according to Anderson. “There is not another crime on earth that evolves as quickly as cyber-attacks,” he says. “If you’re looking at the precedent from two years ago, you’re never going to detect anything. I’m extremely critical of private-sector companies and our government because they don’t understand this bell curve is not tapering off nytime soon.” Countless companies have experienced major breaches in the past year or so, including an attack on Microsoft that harmed more than 30,000 U.S. businesses and government agencies. Using a singular password, hackers also stormed Colonial Pipeline with a ransomware attack that sparked fuel shortages across America. Locally, Neiman
Marcus discovered a breach that revealed payment data and other personal information for 4.6 million shoppers. And so much more. Anderson served as a member of the FBI Hostage Rescue Team. He deployed to more than 20 countries and war zones.
With Cyber Defense Labs, Anderson is helping executives act before a breach leads to a catastrophe. Newstrom, the former NTT Data Services exec and current Cyber Defense Labs board member, does not doubt that Anderson will achieve his mission. “There’s no one more qualified than Bob to build this company,” he says. “I worked with Ross Perot Sr. for 28 years, and everything I saw in Ross is everything I see in Bob. Bob Anderson is the next Ross Perot.”
When Anderson joined Cyber Defense Labs three years after retiring from the FBI, his initial aim was to help small and midsize businesses prevent cyber-attacks. “We thought that would be our avenue,” he says. “But now, we are working with multiple Fortune 100 companies—these are global, $60 billion companies we’re helping. And now, the key to gaining market share across the country will be to get into the cyber hubs of D.C., New York, Chicago, and Atlanta—this is just the beginning.”
Anderson has built a team of 70 employees, including experts who have experience in the private sector, government, and law enforcement. Cybersecurity behemoths like Mandiant, Trellix, and CrowdStrike scale by offering a singular cyber tech solution, Anderson says; his company aims to fill a niche through risk assessments and advisory services— advanced technical services such as penetrating testing, vulnerability assessments, configuration reviews—and managed security services.
“Cyber companies come into corporations and just talk about a cyber plan,” Anderson says. “They then give them a PowerPoint that doesn’t do crap. I don’t do that. I want to come into the partner’s corporation and talk about them, talk about their business, sit down at dinner. Companies purchase $10 million worth of protection, and it’s not worth anything because they have no idea where they’re at risk without a holistic examination. That’s what we do; we take a typically $200,000 cyber protection package and we do it for $50,000 because we look at companies as family—as valuable American infrastructure.”
The strategy is working. In 2021, the privately held Cyber Defense Labs reported revenue growth of 485 percent, year over year. At mid-year 2022, its revenue is 70 percent ahead of what it generated at the same point last year. For 2023, Anderson is projecting growth of 33 percent. As things currently stand, revenue earned in its cyber-managed security services unit has grown 175 percent per client in the past 12 months.
“I’ve seen over the years, especially in the FBI running very large scale, complicated, serious things—whether they’re spies or terrorists or hostage rescue missions—you must have a vision of how things are going to end,” Andersons says. For Cyber Defense Labs, though, the end is nowhere in sight. In fact, it’s just the beginning. But, as he has done ever since he was a child, Anderson is thinking big. “Frankly, we’re beating the larger cyber firms because our people have been there, done that when it comes to large-scale cyber protection,” he says. “We’re aiming to grow our market share by 50 percent this year in Texas, then double next year across the country … then we really plan on monopolizing this.”
FIVE CYBER SECURITY TIPS FOR EXECUTIVES
U.S. companies experience nearly 30,000 cyber-attacks each day, Anderson says, and executives should be on top of protection not monthly, not weekly, but daily. Here are his tips for remaining vigilant:
TWO AWARENESS
“Know the enemy. Hackers think what they’re doing is right. They are all narcissists, and they are typically always after monetary gain—with a few exceptions, like the Sony case.”
FOUR TRAINING
“Train your people. Do they know what the instant response plan is? Do they back up their data? Is your data segmented—can it be found on one central system, or is it broken down into segments to increase security?”
ONE
DISCUSSIONS “Make cybersecurity a daily conversation. All it takes is one person who’s having an off dy to click or download one little file an it turn into a catastrophic event for your company.”
THREE
VIGILANCE “Apply protection liberally. What a CEO or CFO believes to be the biggest risk in their company is not the same. So, identify each risk and overlay protection over every single one.”
FIVE
RESILIENCE “Realize that you’re never safe. Cybercriminals don’t give up. Just because you have defeated them once doesn’t mean they are gone. You must be resilient and question how they are going to attack you next.”
