FOR BOB KEPHART

These comments for Bob Kephart's Memorial Service were written by by Don Hauptman on June 30, 2004, and revised on July 31 for the Eris Society meeting.

In 1974—30 years ago almost exactly—I was just out of the Navy.

My objective was to be an advertising copywriter. Roy Childs introduced me to Bob. In 1975, KCI became my first client. I was soon doing tons of freelance work for Bob's company.

Our working style became routine: I would write a draft for an ad or direct-mail package. Bob would send it back to me festooned with his edits and annotations, and I would revise it until we were both satisfied.

That process was like taking an advanced course in copywriting. Bob could be tough and demanding. But what I learned, and the results we achieved, were worth it.

* * *

I wrote copy for Bob for the next several years, until he sold KCI. But unlike many of you, I was not really close to Bob personally.

Every few months, I traveled to Alexandria and spent a day in Bob's office, discussing the next 5 or 10 or 15 assignments. There was barely enough time for business, much less personal matters.

But there were some exceptions.

In 1980, Bob invited me to attend one of his conferences in London, for which I had done the advertising.

I still remember that it was at the Cumberland Hotel, near Marble Arch. One morning, I was having breakfast in the hotel restaurant. Bob passed by, and asked if he could join me.

It was a rare occasion when we didn't have an agenda. I asked Bob what he did before Human Events. I also inquired about his hobbies, and he told me that his passion was sailing and that he had a goal of circumnavigating the globe.

I didn't share that interest—even during four years in the Navy, I was never on a ship and couldn't even learn to swim! But I always remembered and sent Bob clips and gifts related to ships and boats. I always wondered if his car had one of those bumper stickers: "I'd rather be sailing."

In 1998, when Bob came to New York City to accept the Thomas Szasz award, he and Janet invited me to dinner the night before. Once again, we no longer had any marketing projects to discuss. So the evening was all pleasure, no business.

* * *

Shortly before I met Bob, he had written an ad himself. It was for a commemorative coin issued by the Republic of Minerva, one of those libertarian new-country projects. Bob's headline was, as I recall: "The Most Unique Coin Ever Minted."

I politely pointed out that "most unique" was redundant, a common error frowned upon by grammarians and English teachers.

"I know," he replied. "But the ad is making me so much money that I'm not going to change it!"

That was one of many important marketing lessons Bob taught me: When something is working, you don't tinker with it.

* * *

One more brief story:

Last December, I acquired at auction a collection of valuable documents. Bob expressed interest in my purchase. I sent him copies and background information.

A few weeks later, my phone rang. It was Bob, calling to congratulate me. I was pleased—and surprised. I knew of his declining health, and that he was often in pain. I was amazed and flattered that he would make that effort.

Given the reports of his condition, I expected that he would sound fatigued, debilitated—or somehow different. Yet his voice and manner were just as I remembered. He was enthusiastic and ebullient. More than almost anyone else, he understood and shared my excitement about the acquisition of these papers.

I didn't know that this conversation would be our final contact. But I'm grateful that our last encounter was so positive for both of us.

* * *

Bob took a chance on me at the beginning, even though I had almost no experience. I owe my whole career to him.

Of course, he was a great networker. He recommended me to other libertarian and conservative publishers, many of whom also became my clients. Remarkably, yet perhaps characteristically, he referred me to a prospective client before we had even met!

People often ask me to what I attribute my success. My answer is always the same: "I had a mentor."

Even after Bob sold his company and I no longer worked for him, we stayed in touch.

I still have wonderful letters he sent me over the years. He never forgot—and often mentioned in those letters and messages—that we both did a lot of good things for each other in the years we worked together. It was truly a mutually rewarding relationship.

Thanks for everything, Bob, and goodbye.