The Fall and Rise of David Pottruck

But although his checkbook was healthy, his ego was ailing. For someone who had long aspired to run a company, who had enjoyed being at the top of the heap, and who loved to lecture on leadership, this public beheading was a great humiliation. On July 21, the day after the news became public, Pottruck had a board meeting at Intel, where he was a director. He had been famous for asking people to do the impossible by saying, "How hard can it be?" And that's in part how he convinced himself to attend the meeting. "Absolutely, when you're in a room full of senior businesspeople," he says, "it is much more comfortable to know you have as many stripes on your sleeve as they do."

What would they say, he wondered? Would they acknowledge what had happened? Ignore it? Ask him to step down from this position, too? Would he become a corporate untouchable? "I felt terrible," he remembers. "I was very concerned about my reputation. How would this look and what would people think? It was kind of the ultimate rejection. I was having a very hard time staying focused."

"Do you think the fact that you're no longer CEO of Schwab means you're not a better man?' Intel's Andy Grove asked. 'You're as good a man as you were last week. Hold your head high.'

Just before the meeting got started, Andy Grove, the gruff chairman of Intel's board at the time, pulled Pottruck aside. " 'When you got promoted to CEO,' " Pottruck remembers him saying, " 'did that make you a better man?' I said no. He said, 'Well then, do you think the fact that you're no longer CEO of Schwab means you're not a better man?' I said, 'No, I don't think so.' He said, 'You're as good a man as you were last week. Hold your head high.' It helped me a lot."

Pottruck came to an important decision. Rather than succumb to the urge to blame everyone else, he'd try to act like a leader, even in defeat. He'd take responsibility for the things he did wrong and acquit himself better than he had during other dark periods of his life. He thought about how he'd handled his two divorces, which he calls failures that made this one pale in comparison. And he remembered one searing memory from his college years.

When he was a junior and captain of the wrestling team at the University of Pennsylvania, Pottruck unexpectedly lost in the 190-pound class in the Eastern Championship Finals. He was devastated, but he still qualified for the National Championships in Utah. "Instead of saying, Okay, next time I'll beat that guy, and rededicating myself, I thought, Oh, what a loser I am," he says, still pained at the memory. Pottruck showed up physically for his match but not mentally: He brought his skis along, figuring he'd have time to hit the slopes after he lost -- and lose he did. This time around, though, losing wouldn't be a defeat; it would be a temporary setback.

Stage III: Restitution

In this stage, the various rituals associated with loss within a culture are performed.

The death of a career is difficult, sometimes made more so by the lack of true closure. There is no funeral, no wearing of black clothes, no eulogy. Except in David Pottruck's case. From the moment the news crossed the wire, the letters and emails began to pour in by the dozens. "This is a gift," Emily told him. "Because usually the family only gets to see this stuff because you're in the coffin."

A few messages were vitriolic, but the vast majority were heartfelt outpourings of thanks for his leadership and friendship. "Thank you for leading by example," wrote one manager. "You impressed me beyond words when you stood up in front of the entire retail management team and took responsibility for some fee change that no one liked. This was a defining moment in my career and instilled an intense sense of loyalty in me to you and to Schwab."

In another, an acquaintance shared his own story of being fired. "Take your time," he wrote. "Close the door firmly behind you and don't look back. You had a good run and better than most. Life is good for David Pottruck and about to get better."

The messages helped snap Pottruck out of his funk. Purging helped, too: Pottruck's dad called to tell him that he was throwing out most of his Schwab clothing. Emily did the same, collecting the golf shirts and other detritus of a corporate life and donating them to charity.

Still, there were plenty of awkward moments as the reality that Pottruck no longer ran a multibillion-dollar company sunk in. On a trip to New York, Pottruck flew commercial for the first time since before September 11. As he walked through the metal detector, it went bonkers. Nail file? Scissors? Lighter? Check. He wasn't a terrorist -- just a clueless former CEO. Then there was the suddenly complex problem of getting to a meeting when there was no longer a trusty Town Car at his beck and call. Suddenly, Bagan-McGill, who had quit Schwab when Pottruck was fired, had to pick him up for meetings in her minivan. Cookie crumbs and kiddie toys replaced leather seats and The Wall Street Journal.