When I showed up, it was just a hull on the ways with nothing in it.
I was the chief engineer. I was only 27, and my responsibility was to train the crew and to be the accepting agent for the Navy as the Newport News shipyard built the ship. We tested all the systems and trained all the people. Taking a ship to sea for the first time was exciting.
That must have been quite a kick.
It was. There is a really powerful connection between a ship, the people who build it, and the people who first sail it. I noticed in the New York Times, when the Russian sub the Kursk went down, that the U.S. ship that was on station was the Memphis -- the ship I built. So it's still, all these years later, still out there.
You were a very young man at the time. How would you describe your management style now?
There is a certain mythology right now in the world that thinks the CEO is a kind of superman . . .
. . . the "Jack Welch" phenomenon . . .
That's a good way to put it. But in fact, this business is so darn complicated, and the decisions are so important, there is no one person alone who is going to be maximally effective in making those decisions. I want my executive committee -- the seven or eight top people -- to collectively run the company. I don't shirk the ultimate responsibility as CEO. But I don't want to make the decisions as the sole integrator. I want us to debate and really think through the major decisions about the company together.
So why do you have a painting of General Custer facing your desk?
(laughing) I found that painting when I was visiting Portland with my son, and I was struck by it. I thought it would be good for me to look at someone every day who was overconfident, who misjudged the odds and his own abilities, and who lost everything.