About Darius

It’s been my experience that business is never a straightforward process. It is multifaceted, discursive, ambiguous, often frustrating, and sometimes deeply puzzling. That’s because it is the most human of endeavors – other than family or romantic relationships, of course.

Business is about interacting with other human beings, often at an intense level, to achieve deeply desired goals. To be successful at it, you can’t be careless, and you can’t be ingenuous – honest and trustworthy, yes, ingenuous, no. You need to see around corners, gauge the motivations and moods of your partners and competitors, and develop the wisdom to identify the appropriate times for action, for patience, for resistance and for receptiveness.

I attribute my success in business to my deficits more than my talents. I struggled with dyslexia and ADHD as a child, and my frustration in dealing with my conditions eventually made me realize I had to confront them directly. I had to objectively assess the ways they were confounding me, identify detours around them, and move on. More to the point, I had to use their latent strengths to my advantage.

ADHD, for example, makes it extremely difficult to focus on a single subject for any length of time. And in real estate, the conventional wisdom is that you should concentrate almost myopically on a single sector, paying great attention to the business cycle to determine when and where to invest. But that’s not my mode of real estate investment. I literally can’t invest like that. Instead, I scan the market for opportunities, in and out of cycle. There are always anomalous opportunities that run counter to the cycle, and – for me, at least – those are the best places to invest.

The Aquarium of the Bay is a case in point. This is a wonderful aquarium situated on one of the world’s most spectacular urban vistas: San Francisco’s Embarcadero. But it had struggled for years and was in dire need of an upgrade. I was advised by many people to run – not walk – away from this investment, that it was a black hole for cash, that it was almost radioactive. Aquariums, I was told, never turn profits. The Long Beach Aquarium – which had undergone bankruptcy three or four times – was cited repeatedly as an example.

But I looked long and hard at the Aquarium of the Bay, and I eventually concluded it could make money. It was the right venue, with a customer base already in place: thousands of visitors walk by the site every day. It just needed two things – a physical facelift and creative marketing. We were able to remedy these problems with committed investors, effective relationships with nonprofit groups, new exhibits and a promotional initiative that highlighted the aquarium as an educational resource as well as a recreational destination. We doubled attendance in four years, and we ultimately sold the property to The Bay Institute, a nonprofit organization that focuses on protecting the fragile ecology of the San Francisco Bay/Sacramento River Delta system. The Bay Institute is now the only nonprofit group in the country with its own aquarium, and the acquisition has worked very well for them. Attendance at the aquarium remains high, generating good revenues and educating hundreds of thousands of people each year about the Institute’s critical mission.

The Aquarium of the Bay project also illustrates another foundational element of my business philosophy: success is predicated on building networks. You can’t go it alone in business. You need people to help you – and you need to help people. It’s clear to me that karma truly exists, that you reap what you sow. I’m sometimes asked why I go to considerable effort and expense to help a particular person or support a particular cause when there’s no clear profit for me. It’s like Hemingway said: a moral act is one that makes you feel good afterward. Helping people clearly is the right thing to do, but I also do it because it makes me feel good. And that’s a genuine personal benefit – more significant, really, than a simple monetary profit.

As I’ve matured as a person and grown in business, my priorities have changed. When I was a young man starting out, I wanted to prove myself, I wanted to show people that I was good in business and in politics. But as I got older, my lodestar shifted. Now, I want to spend as much time with my family and friends as possible; I want to make the people around me happy. And that is the prime motivating factor behind Wing & Barrel Ranch. Again, both friends and professional associates urged me to reconsider developing a hunt club in the Bay Area: the reactions ranged from incredulity to outright disdain. And of course, that just fire me up, made me want to prove them wrong.

And today, Wing & Barrel is all that I hoped it would be – and more. I’m there as much as possible, enjoying the shooting, the spectacular food and wine in our dining area, or just lounging on the back deck, watching the waterfowl, shorebirds, raptors, and songbirds congregate in the surrounding bay lands. As an incurable workaholic, I’ve found Wing & Barrel is the only place where I can relax completely, where I can let it all go – and just “be.” But even more than that, I enjoy watching my family and club members – and their families and guests – enjoy themselves. For all of us, Wing & Barrel is our “happy place.”

And finally, I’ll cite Cornerstone. This property in Sonoma supports shops, gardens, wineries, and retail outlets. It was started by a man who loved landscaping and gardening but didn’t have a real feel for business. It languished. But I saw Cornerstone’s potential: it needed physical revamping, and it also needed buzz, word-of-mouth excitement. And for that, it required a recognizable presence with a solid media profile. So when we bought Cornerstone, we initiated negotiations with Sunset Magazine. As it happened, the magazine had been recently forced to move from its historic campus in Menlo Park. We convinced them to locate their test gardens and kitchen at Cornerstone and commit to an annual festival – and the payoff was immediate. Cornerstone prospered.

That was a pivot point for the property that illustrates another of my principles: recognize the best time to let go. With Cornerstone flourishing, we decided it was the optimal moment to sell. I never feel bad about handing over an asset to someone who can make it better – assuming the transaction results in a profit. Many people in my line of work feel compelled to hold on to their acquisitions forever. But I find that creativity and commitment can wane at a certain point in any project; you must know when to move on.

While I tend to search for contrarian opportunities in business, I’m hardly a one-man show. Successful business is team business, and my staff and contractors have been the catalyst for my prosperity. I’m a baseball fan, and I’ve found that putting together a successful business team is much like putting together a successful baseball team. You must review the assets you put out on the field on a constant basis, adjusting strategy and personnel as the game changes. You may need people with certain skill sets one year, and wholly different skills the following year.

For that reason, my permanent staff is small; much of my work is performed by highly talented contractors. I don’t need 50 people in my company – I just need to know 50 people who are the best in their respective fields. So I tend to hire managers and supervisors on a permanent basis, and outsource everyone else, including underwriters, architects, attorneys and designers. Philanthropy is deeply important to me, but business is business. In fact, there can’t be philanthropy without a profitable business. And profit isn’t determined just by revenues – it’s also calculated against expenditures. By running a lean operation, by keeping expenditures to a minimum, we assure a profitable enterprise.

At the same time, there’s one area where I never stint: compensation. No one likes to work on the cheap, and that goes double for people at the top of their game. You must pay for talent. The marketplace demands it, it’s only fair, and in the end, you’ll benefit. When people know you’re equitable, that you’ll pay them what they’re worth, you’ll never have to beat the bushes looking for the right professional. The word will already be out, and they’ll gravitate to you.

I’ll conclude by returning to philanthropy.

At a certain point, any successful businessperson with a conscience will start thinking about giving back. I was fortunate to become involved with the Jackie Robinson Foundation early in my career, and working with Jackie’s charismatic and caring wife, Rachel Robinson, has inspired me to devote increasing hours and capital to philanthropic endeavors. I’ve been particularly enriched by the time I’ve spent mentoring and teaching in both high schools and the University of California, Berkeley. In fact, there’s nothing else I’d rather do.

The feeling I get when students come up to me and say I’ve made a difference in their lives is indescribable. It's as fulfilling as anything I’ve ever done in business – more so, in fact. That’s because the classroom gives me something I can’t find anywhere else: hope for the future.

I consider mentoring a civic duty, a personal responsibility, and a cornerstone of good business.

Why? Mentoring serves two ends: first, it provides crucial insight to young people who need it at the most challenging periods of their lives. It can make the difference between professional success or failure – even between a happy, fulfilled life and one marked by frustration, even despair.

Second, the good mentor will derive even more from an advisory relationship than the mentee. There is nothing more satisfying than helping a young person chart a successful course through life.

With all modesty, I know what I’m talking about on both counts. I take mentoring seriously; it’s as important to me as anything I do in my work or personal life. And there’s a very good reason for that: I’ve been a mentee, and the counseling and advice I received are largely responsible for my success.

One of my first mentors was Bob Duxbury, an English instructor at Santa Rosa Junior College. I was a small-town kid – and frankly, an indifferent student. I was dyslexic, I had ADHD, and the classroom wasn’t my natural milieu. I was good at repartee, however, and I had been able to parlay that talent into passing grades for the most part – until I met Bob.

He was a Fulbright Scholar and a learned man who had a deep and abiding love of literature and the English language, and he called BS on me. He said on more than one occasion, “Darius, you’re not going to talk your way through this class. I’m happy to help you, but you must put in the time and energy.”

Bob kicked my ass – but he also went to great lengths to support me. He answered all my questions, no matter if they were off-topic or even inane, and he patiently took me through the material until I understood it – and more to the point, learned to value it as he did. I had a nascent appreciation of literature before I took Bob’s class, but he fanned the embers until they burst into flame. Bob taught me why literature is important, why it’s foundational to civilization.

I don’t think Bob really understood the impact he had on me until I returned to Sonoma County well into my career and contacted him. Together, we set up a scholarship in his name. I asked him how it should be configured, and who should benefit. He said he wanted to sponsor one or two students a year for extended travel abroad so they could have new experiences and expand their cultural horizons. And that’s what we did: today, the Bob Duxbury Travel Abroad Scholarship provides $5,000 for international study to a student in need. A requirement of the scholarship requires the recipient to meet with Bob post-trip and discuss what they’ve learned.

Another mentor who exerted a tremendous influence on me is Doug Bosco, the former U.S. Congressman representing California’s North Coast. Doug is good friends with my parents, and I was fascinated by his stories of living and working in the nation’s capital. And when I asked him if I could come to Washington and work as his intern he took a beat, then said, “Why not?” That seemingly casual decision established my career. I drove Doug around Washington, performed odd jobs – did anything that needed doing. And all the while, I was watching, listening, and learning. I learned how legislation is negotiated and drafted. I came to understand that politics is often adversarial and always messy, but that it’s a necessary process for a free republic. Doug gave me the eyes and ears to comprehend the world as it is – and made me understand that a single individual can make it better.

There were other mentors who helped me as I climbed the ladder. Phil Angelides, California’s former Treasurer and the state’s 2006 Democratic gubernatorial candidate, taught me about real estate investment and the minutiae of California politics. Ron Burkle, a master in grocery chain acquisitions and mergers, a resolute union supporter, and a prominent Democratic fundraiser, schooled me in finance and art.

All these people – Bob, Doug, Phil, Ron, and many more – provided not just knowledge, but a particular way of looking at things. When I was with them, I constantly asked questions: “Why did you do this? Why did that work? Why did that fail?” Their answers were often oblique, but they collectively confirmed that nothing should be accepted at face value. I learned that every situation and every human interaction is as multi-layered as an onion, and that you must be capable of assessing multiple elements quickly and accurately to understand any deep concept or succeed in any negotiation.

I’m still learning, of course – but I’m also passing on what I’ve learned. I’ve been active in Big Brothers and Big Sisters of America for years, and several of the young people I’ve mentored through this great organization have become close friends. Mark Jennings, whom I met when I was an undergrad at George Washington University, is an example. I counseled Mark when he was in elementary school, and our friendship has grown and deepened over the decades. I was as proud as any parent when he graduated from the Harvard Divinity School, and I’m godfather to his children. He’s one of the most important people in my life.

Finally, I consider teaching the paramount mentoring experience. I’ve taught political leadership both in high schools and at the University of California, Berkeley. I encountered some of the sharpest minds on the planet at Cal. The students were highly opinionated and were quick to confront – but were just as quick to concede a point when they found it convincing and the supporting evidence compelling. They were thirsty for knowledge, and eager to discover real world applications.

We’re facing profound – perhaps unprecedented – challenges in the world today. Like everyone else, I’m anxious. But teaching always gives me hope. Our young, inquisitive students, our best and brightest, are charged with passion as well as intelligence, and they instinctively seek solutions to the thorniest problems. It’s a privilege to encounter and interact with them – and perhaps contribute, in some small way, to the future they will build.Darius’ Commentary

I consider mentoring a civic duty, a personal responsibility, and a cornerstone of good business.

Why? Mentoring serves two ends: first, it provides crucial insight to young people who need it at the most challenging periods of their lives. It can make the difference between professional success or failure – even between a happy, fulfilled life and one marked by frustration, even despair.

Second, the good mentor will derive even more from an advisory relationship than the mentee. There is nothing more satisfying than helping a young person chart a successful course through life.

With all modesty, I know what I’m talking about on both counts. I take mentoring seriously; it’s as important to me as anything I do in my work or personal life. And there’s a very good reason for that: I’ve been a mentee, and the counseling and advice I received are largely responsible for my success.

One of my first mentors was Bob Duxbury, an English instructor at Santa Rosa Junior College. I was a small-town kid – and frankly, an indifferent student. I was dyslexic, I had ADHD, and the classroom wasn’t my natural milieu. I was good at repartee, however, and I had been able to parlay that talent into passing grades for the most part – until I met Bob.

He was a Fulbright Scholar and a learned man who had a deep and abiding love of literature and the English language, and he called BS on me. He said on more than one occasion, “Darius, you’re not going to talk your way through this class. I’m happy to help you, but you must put in the time and energy.”

Bob kicked my ass – but he also went to great lengths to support me. He answered all my questions, no matter if they were off-topic or even inane, and he patiently took me through the material until I understood it – and more to the point, learned to value it as he did. I had a nascent appreciation of literature before I took Bob’s class, but he fanned the embers until they burst into flame. Bob taught me why literature is important, why it’s foundational to civilization.

I don’t think Bob really understood the impact he had on me until I returned to Sonoma County well into my career and contacted him. Together, we set up a scholarship in his name. I asked him how it should be configured, and who should benefit. He said he wanted to sponsor one or two students a year for extended travel abroad so they could have new experiences and expand their cultural horizons. And that’s what we did: today, the Bob Duxbury Travel Abroad Scholarship provides $5,000 for international study to a student in need. A requirement of the scholarship requires the recipient to meet with Bob post-trip and discuss what they’ve learned.

Another mentor who exerted a tremendous influence on me is Doug Bosco, the former U.S. Congressman representing California’s North Coast. Doug is good friends with my parents, and I was fascinated by his stories of living and working in the nation’s capital. And when I asked him if I could come to Washington and work as his intern he took a beat, then said, “Why not?” That seemingly casual decision established my career. I drove Doug around Washington, performed odd jobs – did anything that needed doing. And all the while, I was watching, listening, and learning. I learned how legislation is negotiated and drafted. I came to understand that politics is often adversarial and always messy, but that it’s a necessary process for a free republic. Doug gave me the eyes and ears to comprehend the world as it is – and made me understand that a single individual can make it better.

There were other mentors who helped me as I climbed the ladder. Phil Angelides, California’s former Treasurer and the state’s 2006 Democratic gubernatorial candidate, taught me about real estate investment and the minutiae of California politics. Ron Burkle, a master in grocery chain acquisitions and mergers, a resolute union supporter, and a prominent Democratic fundraiser, schooled me in finance and art.

All these people – Bob, Doug, Phil, Ron, and many more – provided not just knowledge, but a particular way of looking at things. When I was with them, I constantly asked questions: “Why did you do this? Why did that work? Why did that fail?” Their answers were often oblique, but they collectively confirmed that nothing should be accepted at face value. I learned that every situation and every human interaction is as multi-layered as an onion, and that you must be capable of assessing multiple elements quickly and accurately to understand any deep concept or succeed in any negotiation.

I’m still learning, of course – but I’m also passing on what I’ve learned. I’ve been active in Big Brothers and Big Sisters of America for years, and several of the young people I’ve mentored through this great organization have become close friends. Mark Jennings, whom I met when I was an undergrad at George Washington University, is an example. I counseled Mark when he was in elementary school, and our friendship has grown and deepened over the decades. I was as proud as any parent when he graduated from the Harvard Divinity School, and I’m godfather to his children. He’s one of the most important people in my life.

Finally, I consider teaching the paramount mentoring experience. I’ve taught political leadership both in high schools and at the University of California, Berkeley. I encountered some of the sharpest minds on the planet at Cal. The students were highly opinionated and were quick to confront – but were just as quick to concede a point when they found it convincing and the supporting evidence compelling. They were thirsty for knowledge, and eager to discover real world applications.

We’re facing profound – perhaps unprecedented – challenges in the world today. Like everyone else, I’m anxious. But teaching always gives me hope. Our young, inquisitive students, our best and brightest, are charged with passion as well as intelligence, and they instinctively seek solutions to the thorniest problems. It’s a privilege to encounter and interact with them – and perhaps contribute, in some small way, to the future they will build.