Remembering a Mentor

It was 1988. I was a few years out of college - a contractor working at the Office of Naval Research (ONR) in Ballston, VA. This was before the Metro was constructed and around the time Ballston Mall was built. There were early rumblings of urbanization, but Mom & Pops dotted the streets and it was easy to get terrific and inexpensive Mexican or Asian food for lunch.

I was assigned to the University Business Affairs division of the ONR - the group that administered research grants awarded to university professors. My sponsor was an affable 40-something guy named James (Jim) Carbonara, the Director of University Business Affairs. He explained he wanted to build a software product for ONR personnel at University field office sites who manage and administer a large volume of grants. Jim also explained exactly how he wanted to work with me.

Jim had a nice sized office with a large desk, a credenza with a computer, and a small conference table. For the next year, I sat behind Jim's desk and worked at his computer while he selflessly sat at his conference table. I came to the job with some mad dBase III Plus skills and used them to build the software. For those not of the 20th century, dBase III Plus was a pre-Windows, MS-DOS-based database management system that allowed a programmer to design data entry screens and navigation.

There was nothing magical about our routine but we developed a steady cadence. Jim and I would chat about a piece of the product. Maybe he'd sketch out a couple of his ideas. I'd go code it up. dBase III Plus made it remarkably quick to translate an idea to the screen. When I was ready, I'd call Jim over to take a look. Sometimes it was hours, sometimes a day or two. We iterated in this manner until he was satisfied with my work. When we had a shippable (literally - this was pre-Internet days and we used the post office) version I'd write some documentation and installation instructions, Then I'd prepare Floppy Disks (I cannot recall if they were 5 1/4" or 3.5") for each of the University sites. Every few months, Jim and I would take trips to University field offices to train users and listen to their suggestions.

Our road trips were especially memorable. Jim came from a blue-collar background in Connellsville, PA. He was a decorated Vietnam War veteran. Although Jim was in a managerial position and it behooved the workers at these sites to treat him nicely, it was obvious to me that everyone genuinely loved him. Since I had Jim's full support, even though my work was replacing their homegrown systems, I was treated with nothing but kindness and acceptance. With Jim's encouragement, the government employees at these University sites worked with me to build features and workflow that enabled them to perform their jobs more efficiently.

This was Agile development on a small scale a decade before the Agile Manifesto was written. Jim created an environment where we worked shoulder to shoulder in an iterative process. We talked instead of writing complicated specifications for the work. We shipped working software at regular intervals. Although Jim probably never heard of the title, "Product Manager," this was his role as well as "Subject Matter Expert." Jim had some dates in mind but he never made promises about what would be delivered when. Memories tend to blur and soften over time, but I recall absolutely no pressure to ship software by a specific date. It was joyful to go to work and produce tangible results every single day.

Jim died suddenly from a heart attack in 1998 at age 51, several years after I left the ONR. Under the eminently sensible guidance of my beloved mentor, we did Agile development before there was Agile development.