Landed manager; Steven McCormick's goal for The Nature Conservancy: to transform the already vast charity into the most influential nonprofit on the planet - Profile - chief executive officer

Chief Executive, The, Dec, 2002 by Bill Birchard

Staff members at the country's largest conservation organization often recite one of their boss' favorite quotations when asked about his style: "Execution is the chariot of genius."

Steven McCormick, head of The Nature Conservancy in Arlington, Va., favors those words from 18th century poet William Blake to stress the importance of strategic follow-through. The quotation goes a long way in explaining why the Conservancy is not only a favorite charity of corporations, but also a favorite partner. The organization routinely puts together deals to match its strengths with corporate needs--whether it's managing land, conducting research, jointly marketing brands or solving stubborn corporate environmental problems.

The Conservancy's record as a nonprofit is hard to beat. With its blue chip reputation, A-minus efficiency rating from The American Institute of Philanthropy and $3 billion in assets, the Conservancy has been able to set aside 13 million acres of unspoiled habitat in the United States and 80 million abroad since its founding by a small circle of concerned ecologists in 1946. Today it operates in 50 states and 28 countries and receives $400 million from individuals, foundations and corporations to underwrite its mission to preserve habitats through land acquisition.

But McCormick also favors Blake's words because he once miserably failed at heeding them. In 1984, his first managerial post was as executive director of the Conservancy's California chapter. Six months into the job, a handful of staff members protested his management style, saying he let morale fall apart, kept quiet about what he was doing and spent most of his time alone.

Recalling the criticism, McCormick, 50, says: "This is a terrible confession, but my first reaction was, 'Then we have the wrong people here. I don't want to manage people who don't want to be managed.'"

He conceded, however, that he might have a blind spot. It was then that his education as a manager began. He hired an organizational consultant. He attended Stanford's executive program. He began to emulate mentors like Tom Jones, former CEO of Northrop; Alan Seelenfreund, chairman of McKesson; and Jim Morgan, CEO of Applied Materials.

By the time he left the California chapter in 2000, McCormick had developed a fondness for two words, which he would scrawl on a board at meetings: vision and execution.

Imparting his vision, McCormick challenged California staffers to preserve regionally important landscapes instead of locally favored parcels. His efforts laid the groundwork for the removal in October 2000 of the century-old Saeltzer Dam from Clear Creek in Northern California. Dismantling the dam opened the creek to spawning by the endangered Chinook salmon. It marked the culmination of a decade of deal-making between the Conservancy and two dozen state and federal agencies aimed at restoring the ecological health of the San Francisco Bay/San Joaquin delta estuary, a biologically rich waterway that nourishes 760 plants and animals and two-thirds of California's population.

As for execution, McCormick demanded a rigorous system to target the most sensitive landscapes first. In the 1980s, he asked a dozen of California's leading biologists to name the most imperiled and uniquely Californian habitats. The result was a list of 13 areas. Though unsophisticated, this ranking of critical habitats was a milestone. "He demanded the organization look at what it really takes to be successful," explains Henry Little, who is managing director for the Central Coast field office and the man who hired McCormick in 1977.

"Now, the world"

Since being named president and CEO in February 2001, McCormick has demanded that the Conservancy look at what it takes to be successful globally. In moving from a state office to the national headquarters, McCormick took seriously the organization-wide mission printed in every annual report: "To preserve the plants, animals and natural communities that represent the diversity of life on Earth by protecting the lands and waters they need to survive.

As McCormick contemplated his task from his new corner office, two words in the statement bothered him -- "on Earth" -- because he realized the Conservancy was not fulfilling its goal. He asked his staff and trustees, "Do we all really believe in that mission?"

Everyone agreed the Conservancy fell short. So McCormick mandated that the Conservancy's 3,000 employees in the United States and around the world make adjustments. He ordered managers to kill projects lacking global significance, to redirect funds to projects yielding more return for the same money and to work across political boundaries. "Great organizations are always willing to make themselves a lot better, not just a little better," McCormick explains.

McCormick's view of the Conservancy as a global mover and shaker may seem overly ambitious. But admirers praise his earnestness, humor and congeniality. His ability to deliver, meanwhile, has earned him the respect of people he once looked to as role models. "Steve is one of the most effective conservation leaders in the world today," asserts McKesson's Seelenfreund. "Millions of acres have been preserved in large landscapes and a significant amount of biodiversity has been protected that otherwise would have been lost to development." Says Northrop's Jones: "It was California, then the U.S., now the world."