Danvers Fleury
UNC - Chapel Hill
MBA Class of 2008
Andrew Durk
As I walked toward the center of the stage at the 2007 Innovation Challenge finals to present a rather expansive idea involving Hilton Hotels and green marketing, I thought of Andy.
Andy Durk was my lab partner in eighth-grade science class. Unable to follow directions, color blind, and science deficient, I found new and creative ways to raise the classroom disaster count, while sinking Andy's GPA, but he stuck it out with me.
In ninth grade we started recording music together and would often spend countless hours after jam sessions talking about "big ideas." One night we stayed up until two in the morning trying to discern the meaning and purpose of life, ending in near tears when we agreed that it was simply "to grow."
The actual conclusion was nearly superfluous. The fact that we'd taken my philosophical whimsy and blended it with his scientific acumen to find a singular conclusion was to become the foundation of a lifelong friendship and the inspiration for my later opinions on team building.
Eventually Andy's ideas got bigger than big and he started having a hard time stopping them from coming. He was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, a form of manic depression, right around our senior year in high school. I would have lost hope. Andy gave hope. He didn't hide his challenges and consistently reached out to support others even when he was hanging on by a thread.
I stayed in Massachusetts, he moved to Tennessee, and our friendship, while at times strained, continued over the phone for many years. Through all of 2004 and 2005 we pondered going into business with each other. When I committed to Kenan-Flagler at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in early 2006, it meant moving only a few hours away from his home.
He got into a very bad car accident several days later and passed away on Feb. 1, 2006.
In his last days Andy was recording music and working at a bagel shop—what most people didn't realize was that he was a hero. At his funeral, the word got out. People told stories of redemption, of suicide attempts that never came to pass because of Andy's guidance. Buried traumas healed by his attentive listening. Life passions and dreams aspired to through his encouragement. Andy was often shackled by his ailment, so he dedicated his life to helping others ascend.
To me, Andy's life embodied all the traits a leader needs to drive the creative process. A good leader is a good listener and helps others grow their big ideas. He shows that he cares and actively invests in his teammates, even if it isn't always convenient in the short term. Good leaders value process over outcome and avoid measuring themselves using external norms, often succeeding without fanfare. Best of all, they not only understand their own shortcomings, they let their teammates know about them.
They are, in short, the exact opposite person of who I was as captain of the second-place 2006 Innovation Challenge team. Self-centered and brash, overly aggressive, and focused on winning, I failed to learn from my friend's legacy. This year, I vowed it would be different.
Last year, our diverse team was built on the principle of creative friction. We excelled at the brainstorming process but our differences got in the way of producing content and presenting our ideas. Despite our second-place finish, we left as a team divided, and my style in particular left some competitors alienated.