2005 Articles

The author looks back on two decades with Ron Daniels.

“Listening to you, I get opinions, …

From you, I get the story.” – Pete Townsend

Ron Daniels has left the room. We have lost an industry icon. We have lost a voice of patience and reason in an industry and a world that can be both impatient and unreasonable. We lost one of the best technical editors. We lost an experienced and insightful consultant. We lost a great man. I lost my best friend and brother.

Ron was my best friend, my buddy, my compadre, my business partner, my brother.

We met about 20 years ago and became instant friends. We began working together about 13 years ago, when he invited me (along with Terry Munson and Les Hymes) to join the editorial advisory board of Circuits Assembly. A year or so later he asked me to author a column every other month. And here we are.

About 41�2 years ago Ron parted ways with the former publisher of the magazine and joined my consulting firm. Besides his experience in SMT assembly, Ron had a wonderful background in PCB fabrication and plating. He became our Mr. Fab, though we felt doubly blessed to have a professional editor in our group. No typos or bad grammar from these guys. Not long after, our friend Jeff Ferry invited Ron to take over as editor-in-chief of CircuitNet. Ron wore this second hat with flourish. He also pioneered ITM-Marketing, our marketing communications group. We subscribed to the edict: If something’s not fun, it’s not worth doing; and if it is fun, have a great time doing it. Ron was in his element.

It’s been said that when you face death, your life flashes before you. Certainly when we are confronted with the passing of someone very near and dear to us, a collage of memories floods the mind. That has been my experience these past weeks since Ron’s beloved wife, Judy, called me with the shocking news. Many scenes and recollections have played out vividly in my memory.

An editorial advisory board meeting in Marietta, GA, with Ron and his assistant editor at the time, Lisa Hamburg, merrily debating with Les, Terry and myself; weekly teleconference phone calls with Jim Hall and Bob Klenke, with Ron reining us in from various rants and tangents; Ron auditing a board fabrication facility with a big smile on his face and my observation, “Ron loves the smell of plating solutions in the morning … it’s the smell of victory”; roaming the sporting goods department of a Wal-Mart in Huntsville, AL, at 2 a.m. with fellow members of the Fat Elks,¹ somewhat inebriated from some “adequate wine” at dinner, obtaining licenses so that we could go on a fishing expedition with Jim Raby the next morning; comparing who caught the biggest lake-weed on said fishing expedition; performing an expeditious flat-tire change with Ralph Savage and Ron on the side of an interstate in Alabama on the way back from said fishing expedition; a reception in Singapore following Globaltronics where I asked editor-in-chief Ron and publisher Frances Stewart if I could start editorializing in this column (and how I wanted to title the next one, What’s the BFD about BGAs?) and Ron saying yes and talking Frances into it; a process audit in Mexico and Ron “taking five” for a smoke on his pipe; discussing the attributes of the latest modification to his Dodge pickup; some amusing term he had picked up during his tour of duty in Vietnam as a Marine; sitting in Jeff Ferry’s office discussing CircuitNet; Ron moderating “Board Talk” at SMTAI and (once again) disarming a Phil and Jim rant; walking through Pat Pong in Bangkok on a Saturday afternoon and running into our friend, Bob Stevens, warming a bar stool; reaching him on his cellphone on some matter as he was donating plasma (which he did on a weekly basis); Ron as (a very tall) Elvis at a Circuits Assembly reception at Nepcon; driving from Quebec to Syracuse in the middle of the night, through the Appalachian night and nothingness on an otherwise long, boring ride, with bluegrass streaming from the CD player; riding through the Malaysian countryside on an otherwise long, boring ride with nothing on the CD player; sitting on his back porch, smoking cigars and discussing life, in the cool Georgia evening.

Bigger than Life: The "Fat Elks," with Ron Daniels seated at right.

Working with Ron (and we did work) was almost always fun. When office-bound (he in Atlanta and myself in New Hampshire) we spoke at least three or four times a day. Field work was the best and Ron was most certainly an expert. A few years ago, a component manufacturer, perplexed by sporadic dewetting of a single lead on a QFP, hired us to audit its plating facility and the contract assemblers reporting the dewetting. Ron discovered that certain parameters of the plating process were flirting with upper control limits. He found weak baths and slightly loose anodes. The result was, indeed, random single lead contamination and hence, dewetting. Amazing!

An excellent editor, Ron also was a terrific writer. He came across in such a way that many who never met him felt as though they knew him. My favorite of Ron’s editorials was one he wrote in Circuits Assembly about 12 years ago, in which he used an anecdote of his son’s Cub Scout Pinewood Derby as a foundation for a point on cooperation among coworkers.

While there was always “technical and business content,” we would unfailingly digress to other topics including music, the latest antics of our sons (“bubbas,” in our vernacular), politics, dogs, automotive diagnosis, good books, his new grandson, our dads and lots of other stuff. Hey, that’s what best friends do. I recall that part of our last conversation dealt with, besides the status of an upcoming market analysis report, an Eagles concert on television the night before and agreeing how the multi-guitar intro to “Hotel California” was one of the best they had ever done. Then a brief discussion of our mutual agendas for the weekend and “Bye Budro; talk to you Monday.”

Fond memories are a testament to what a wonderful person Ron was. He was, in every respect, a man in full. However, he was more than that. No matter how well you knew Ron, to know him was to learn from him. Whether you agreed with him or not, he had a way of quietly but effectively stimulating your thought process. Ron left an impact on everyone he met – and on many he didn’t. The sign of greatness is leaving a positive lasting impression on those one knew. Ron Daniels was truly a great man. He will always be with us.

We’re all still in this together. Thanks again for everything and catch you later, Budro. n

Reference

1. The Fat Elks is a clandestine organization in the midst of our industry comprised of a select handful of industry notables. I can’t disclose much more except that Ron was a charter member. Maybe Dan Brown will uncover the Fat Elks in his next book.

Phil Zarrow is president and SMT process consultant with ITM Consulting (itmconsulting.org); phil_zarrow@itmconsulting.org.