Article Published: Monday, August 02, 2004
That trek home to Denver marked the end of the most intense business trip of his career. McVaney, who made a fortune as chief executive of J.D. Edwards & Co., spent six months working in one of Saddam Hussein's ornate palaces to help rebuild Iraq's economy. He was one of numerous CEO-types recruited by the Pentagon for that goal. On his last day in the country, a suspected bomb caused heavy traffic to shut down on a highway to the airport. For 45 minutes, McVaney sat in a black SUV, back to back with a soldier, both with guns in hand, on the lookout. His body dripped with sweat. "Halfway there, it gets scary; we are sitting ducks," McVaney wrote in a note home to his friends and family. "I'm alive. Thank you, Lord. (My wife) would not have forgiven me if I blew it on the last day."The 63-year-old McVaney not only came home alive but also gained an insight into the war in Iraq that few other U.S. citizens will ever see. He also came home a changed man: He is no longer prejudiced, he says, of Middle Easterners. McVaney's adventure began with a conversation at a dinner party in May 2003. Former Colorado congressman and current U.S. Senate candidate Bob Schaffer mentioned that he was asked to work in Iraq for the newly formed Iraqi education ministry. But Schaffer had kids in high school. McVaney never served in the military. "I said, 'You can't go, Bob; you've got kids in high school. Tell them I'll go.' "I had it made. I was living dumb, fat and happy," McVaney later said. And so, McVaney traded a leisurely retirement in his million- dollar Greenwood Village home for a 10-foot by 10-foot trailer parked outside one of Hussein's swimming pools. McVaney - a man who once called the shots at Colorado's largest software firm - became the equivalent of middle management at the U.S.-run Iraqi ministry of transportation. He reported to Paul Bremer, administrator of the Coalition Provisional Authority. No one reported to him, this after decades of overseeing 5,000 J.D. Edwards employees. While in Iraq, McVaney created billion-dollar budgets, ordered guns for the Iraqi police and created software to track down Iraqi insurgents. He also wore a flak jacket and helmet to sleep, carried a gun to the office and drove 90 miles an hour to avoid carjackings. Yet McVaney's efforts - and those of the military to rebuild Iraq - were only moderately successful. "Most reconstruction work was shut down," he said, "because of the lack of security." The Iraqi civilian airport never opened to full-scale commercial flights because of the threat of shoulder-fired missiles. The ministry did manage to get the railroads up and running, but only after paying people to avoid sabotage. McVaney's biggest project, building a database to track Iraqi citizens, eventually became mired in U.S. bureaucracy, which halted funding and work on it for three months. Last week, he heard the project was up and running again. He was creating the same controversial software that retired Adm. John Poindexter proposed for tracking and identifying potential terrorists in the United States. Congress shot down the use of the database in America because of its Big Brother concerns but OK'd it for use in the military. McVaney says tracking Iraqis is important to the terrorism fight. He already had generated extensive data on Hussein's former military personnel. "It's just amazing to me that something so important can get held up," he said. Fixing Iraq isn't going to be easy. In addition to insurgent attacks, Iraq faces 60 percent unemployment, $56 billion in reconstruction costs over the next few years and $124 billion in international debt. "A lot of the destruction predates this war," said Guity Nashat, an Iraqi-born associate professor of history at the University of Illinois at Chicago. The country's electricity and water infrastructure and schools never were repaired after the first Gulf War and war with Iran, Nashat said. Nonetheless, Nashat said Iraq has made some progress. The government ministries that were destroyed and looted are being repaired, and 200 newspapers have been started. Back in Denver, McVaney has returned to his old life of fishing, hunting, charitable and political volunteering, and relaxing on his Summit County ranch. Everything is back to normal. Except McVaney is a changed man in one significant way. "I went over there with all kind of prejudices about Arabs. I had a really negative view," he said. "I learned to like Arabs. They were charming, loving, devoutly religious, beautiful people. They would give you the shirt off their backs." He said that only 1 percent of Middle Easterners are the Islamic extremists seen in the media. He shares such perspectives in talks given to local organizations and Rotary clubs. He routinely gets requests to speak, said Carole McVaney, his wife of 40 years. "I can't believe the impact of him going over there," she said. By the time he came home, his diary-like e-mails to family were being forwarded to as many as 400 other people across the country, she said. "We went to our 45th high school reunion. I only e-mailed one person, but over half of them knew he went to Iraq," she said. McVaney, a staunch Republican, supports the U.S. war in Iraq and believes a model for democracy in the Middle East is crucial to world safety, even if the process of getting there is slow. "If you do nothing, the terrorists will take over the whole Middle East," he said. Retired CEO swaps Colorado lush life for Baghdad flak jacket By jalsever@denverpost.com
The 62-year-old McVaney wears a flak jacket and helmet to bed, carries a handgun to the office and drives 90 mph to avoid possible carjackings on dangerous Baghdad roads. The former chief executive of software giant J.D. Edwards & Co. is among numerous CEO types the Pentagon has recruited to help rebuild Iraq's economy. "It's very prophetic. I just kind of know in my gut that I'm supposed to be here," McVaney said via cellphone this week from Iraq. He spends his days inside a 40-foot marble room in one of Hussein's ornate Baghdad palaces, creating half-billion-dollar budgets, ordering guns for Iraqi police, configuring airport security systems and finding software to help track down Hussein's bad guys. His Christian faith and a patriotic zeal drove him to volunteer to go to Iraq. He arrived in October, leaving behind his wife of 40 years, three grown children, seven grandchildren, carpooling duties, myriad charitable obligations and carefree days on his Summit County ranch. McVaney says spending his retirement in a war zone is worth it to help get Iraqis back on their feet. But the challenges involved in bringing economic recovery to Iraq - and at a quicker pace than expected - are enormous. Besides continued violence, Iraq faces 60 percent unemployment, $56 billion in reconstruction costs over the next few years and $124 billion in international debt. "There are commercial issues, political issues," said Richard Powers, a Washington, D.C., attorney who handles contract work in Iraq. "Everybody who goes over there is fitted with a flak jacket. It's going to take a long time before they get real stability over there." Yet Iraq, with its rich oil wells and educated middle class, could become a strong Middle East democracy, some experts say. And people like McVaney are crucial to that recovery, said one defense official. Those chief executives, chief financial officers and business leaders recruited by the military can lend a hand in organizing the rebuilding of roads, water, electricity and security. "Their ability over there is as essential as the forces on the ground," said Army Maj. Joe Yoswa, a defense spokesman. "This is an infrastructure and a business structure that has not been utilized to the best of its capabilities for years." It's not the job McVaney expected two years ago when he retired from J.D. Edwards. The company, once Colorado's largest software firm, was acquired this year by competitor PeopleSoft. At J.D. Edwards, McVaney was top dog. He did what he wanted, commanding billion-dollar budgets, overseeing 5,000 employees, jetting across the globe and at one point hitting the billionaire ranks. His biggest worry, perhaps, was meeting Wall Street expectations. Now, McVaney wakes to bombings and gunfire in the middle of the night. Sleeping in his helmet is uncomfortable, he said, but a good precaution. He has a roommate - a quiet army colonel - and the outside of his trailer is obscured by six-foot piles of sandbags. McVaney's office is a desk in a large room where 20 other people work, including three Dutch men and two Italians who converse in their native languages, leaving McVaney baffled. "You think of this as an American deal, but there are all kinds of people here," he said. As a civilian Pentagon employee, McVaney is the equivalent of middle management and does what he is told, he said. He talks often of the safety tips he learns: Don't stand near windows, never get caught in a traffic jam and never eat out in the city without your gun. Just a few months ago, McVaney carried a gun when only hunting in Nebraska. His life took a turn at a Denver dinner party in May, when former Colorado congressman Bob Schaffer mentioned the military had asked him to work in Iraq for the newly formed education ministry. "I said 'You can't go, Bob, you've got kids in high school," said McVaney. "Tell them I'll go." His rationale: The 20-year-old U.S. soldiers in Iraq have their whole lives in front of them. "I had it made. I was living dumb, fat and happy," McVaney said. The dinner party conversation didn't surprise McVaney's wife, Carole. "It was typical of something that he would say," she said. "But obviously when it first came up, I think I secretly thought it would just go away." It didn't. Five months later, the Pentagon took McVaney up on his offer and put him on a plane. On the way to the airport, McVaney admitted to his wife that he promised the Pentagon he would stay for up to a year if his work was valuable. The seriousness of that decision set in immediately. On Oct. 27, McVaney sat waiting inside a hotel room in Amman, Jordan, for three days before getting approved to enter Iraq. The cause of the delay? A rocket had hit the Baghdad hotel where he was to stay. When McVaney finally arrived at the Baghdad airport, clad in safari gear, he jumped into a dark green Chevy Suburban that took him to Hussein's gaudy palace. "It's massive," McVaney said. "You know the Museum of Natural History? Imagine 10 of these connected. Chandeliers everywhere. Marble everywhere." Five days later, he and 500 others huddled for an hour among industrial equipment in the basement of the palace during a rocket attack. In an e-mail to family and friends, which McVaney shared with The Denver Post, he jokes that he brought a bottle of Scotch at the next attack and "made a lot of people happy." Despite the obvious dangers, McVaney is relatively nonchalant about his situation. He says he has no fear, due to his faith in God. Carole McVaney has a similar take. "God has given me a peace about it and knowing this is the right thing for him to do," she said. "This is where his heart is." McVaney's work started immediately. Despite his expertise in software, the first day he was pulled into a meeting about railroads. "Ninety-nine percent of everything we run into is common business sense," he said. "What's overwhelming is the layers of bureaucracy." McVaney's biggest mission has been finding software to uncover the backgrounds of prospective Iraqi baggage handlers and air traffic controllers. He tried to interview Iraqis through an interpreter, but it didn't work. "You didn't know if the facial expression you're getting is for the question you just asked or the one you asked three minutes ago," he said. What McVaney talks about most, however, are his perceptions of Iraq: The complex Muslim culture; the free - and sometimes "obnoxious" - speech found in the crop of 25 new Baghdad newspapers; the Iraqi people's culture shock at American TV shows seen via satellite; and the area's intense poverty that belies its grand architecture. This week, McVaney drove down a street near the palace that was piled high with feces and trash. "It was the filthiest thing I've ever seen in my life," he said. "It makes you cry. It makes you feel so sad for these people." McVaney admits it may take another generation for Iraq to reach its potential of being a vibrant country. But he hopes this effort will guide Iraqis to reclaim their country and rediscover the inner human spirit that he says has been beaten out of them. "I would rather be home," he said. "But is it right that I'm here? Absolutely it's right that I'm here."
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Edwards alumni reluctant to let go
With the blessing of J.D. Edwards' co-founder and most visible figure, C. Edward McVaney, a former 10-year company veteran set up a website about two months ago for former employees to reconnect and reflect on the company's 26-year history. Interest in the site, www.ExJDEdwards.com , surged this month after PeopleSoft Inc., which acquired J.D. Edwards this summer for $1.8 billion, began laying off J.D. Edwards workers as part of the companies' integration. PeopleSoft has said it plans to cut up to 1,000 jobs initially but hasn't disclosed how many of those layoffs will come from the J.D. Edwards side. "A lot of people have good memories of J.D. Edwards," said the website's founder, Nick Gomersall, now vice president of sales for the GL Co., a London- based software maker. "We were looked after like a family." Gomersall said about 100 former workers have registered for the site, including about 40 Colorado residents. Another 350 people have received temporary access to the site. At a cost of $10 a year, members of the site receive e-mail accounts that are in the same format as their J.D. Edwards e-mail accounts, with the exception of the domain name. "The company may be sold, but the spirit is still there," Gomersall said. The site also features a chat forum, a job-posting area and a section where company memorabilia, such as photos and videos, will be shared. Gomersall said it will take about two years to complete the site, which now is handled by he and a partner, J.D. Edwards alum Regitta Jensen. Former employees already have submitted "kickoff videos," which were year-end videos that the company's various regional offices created each November. Gomersall said McVaney has agreed to send him financial documents from the company's early years. "It's a wonderful thing," McVaney said of the site. "We had a very special thing going, a beautiful culture, and it was really family. That was one of the greatest attributes of the company." McVaney co-founded J.D. Edwards in 1977 with Jack Thompson and Dan Grego, and served as chief executive officer for most of the company's formative years. The company, which made software that large businesses used to manage key operations, hit $100 million in total revenues in 1991 and went public in 1997, according to the website. The company continued its rapid growth through much of the 1990s, becoming Colorado's largest software maker. At its peak, J.D. Edwards had sales of $1 billion and employed 5,000 people worldwide, including 2,500 at its headquarters in the Denver Tech Center. |