It was the 4th of May in 1995. My wife, Charlotte, and I had just arrived at The Westin Mission Hills in Palm Springs, California. This was the site for a Motorola, Inc. worldwide officers meeting. In 1995, Motorola had around 130,000 employees and was ranked №1 in the world in cellular telephone, paging, and two-way radio.
I had arrived early to attend a special regional gathering. The early arrival also allowed us to spend some time together enjoying the resort prior to the three days of employee-only sessions. All four hundred officers were asked to bring a significant other to this annual event. Everyone participated in the evening get-togethers, which included dinner and some great entertainment.
The company had reserved the entire resort for the exclusive meeting. All of the guest rooms had an outdoor entrance, similar to an expansive motel. After we checked into our second-floor room, I walked back down the stairs to retrieve our golf clubs from the car.
As I was coming back up the stairs to my room, there were a few doors open where other Motorola officers were also checking in. While passing by one door, a man stepped out of a room, approached me, and said, “Excuse me, when you drop off those clubs would you come back by here? I have some clubs that I need to be brought up.”
The comment left me speechless. You see, I was one of only seven Motorola officers who were African American. Obviously, I just assumed that this gentleman thought that I was part of the hotel’s staff, and felt entitled to make such a request. I thought for a few seconds and responded with, “Hi, I am Earl Cobb, Vice President and Director of Radio Systems Operations, based in Scottsdale, Arizona…and, you are?”
The gentleman turned beet red, apologized, and walked back into his room without introducing himself. Later that evening during dinner, I stood across the buffet table from him and his wife. Finding himself in an awkward situation, he then introduced himself and attempted to make amends.
I believe that sharing with you this story does two things. First, it illuminates the state of most corporate environments in 1995 in terms of inclusion. But, more importantly, it helps to reveal how much Nape, a fellow Tennessee State University graduate and long-time mentor, meant to me and the hundreds of other African American men and women with whom he shared his life, and his wisdom. Without Nape’s mentorship and internal support, I would not have been appointed a Motorola Vice President in 1988 nor would I have experienced what it was like to hold a significant position within a major corporation at the age of thirty-five.
Additionally, without Nape’s mentorship, dozens of other Motorola employees, of various nationalities, would not have survived the difficult climb that most underprivileged individuals had to endure to get beyond the bottom rails of the corporate ladder, in most companies during the1970’s and 80’s.
Nape was a steadfast mentor who became a dear friend.
I will always remember his “disarming” laughter in major personnel meetings, as he stood up for deserving employees who were being passed over for promotions, as well as the dozens of customer trips we made together where he took the time to show me the ropes.
Later in his career, as a Corporate Vice President and Division General Manager, Nape enjoyed his work as a marketing executive and loved to embrace the winning moments.
I fondly recall one Friday night during a late dinner in Washington, D.C. in the mid-1980s. Nape and I had just completed a major contract negotiation with one of our largest customers, which ended in a significant business win. During dinner, Nape looked across the table and said with a triumphant voice. “Cobb, we did well. Isn’t this a great feeling? At times, I wonder what the other folks are doing.
By other folks, Nape was referring to, in his own way, those who had the skills and wherewithal to also be in the privileged seats we had been allowed to sit in, but were not given the opportunities that were merited.
Nape never took his position for granted and never stopped thinking and caring about others.
Napoleon Hornbuckle, we will miss you. But, we will not be wondering what you are doing.
Based on the enormous and generous life you lived in your earthly vessel, we know that your spirit of splendor has already been welcomed to its eternal home with open arms, and now, you are resting in peace.
A final thanks to you my friend, for a job well done.