A Life Lesson from a Quiet Titan of Finishing

William “Bill” Nimtz, 1943-2021

Quietly, with little recognition within the finishing industry, we lost an icon of sorts last year with the passing of William Nimtz on April 28, 2021 (short.pfonline.com/BillNimtz).

If his name isn’t as recognizable as some of the better-known legends of our industry that would be just fine with Bill, as he always preferred to let the CEOs and presidents of his companies, among them Milwaukee, Wisconsin, surface finisher America’s Best Quality Coatings (ABQC), take the limelight. I know. For nearly a decade I was one of them.

In the early 1990s, when Rockwell Automation made the strategic decision to spin-off its 250,000 square foot surface finishing operation and needed a trusted ally to acquire the company, Nimtz was their first call. For decades thereafter he and his business partner kept their commitments to Rockwell, to their employees and to their community. In much the same way that time caught up with Nimtz, an evolving economy and the realities of the Milwaukee real estate market (ABQC was located in the red-hot Milwaukee Harbor District) caught up with ABQC in 2019, but the company and Bill Nimtz leave behind a legacy that will long resonate.

At his memorial service held in the summer of 2021, I reminisced with his son and longtime ABQC team member Kirk Nimtz and tried to sum it all up. “I learned many lessons from that guy”, I said. One of them, shared below, left an indelible mark on my approach to leadership, to team building, and to my every personal relationship inside and outside of business.

Bill and I weren’t always perfectly aligned, on personnel decisions, where to invest in the business, market strategy and so on. But we agreed much more often than not, and together with a solid team of people, we transformed a single-customer captive shop into a world-class provider of finishing solutions to some of the most recognizable manufacturers in the Midwest.

To say Bill was his own person is a colossal understatement. He had a way of looking at the world that was genuinely unique. He could be incredibly resolute, especially when it came to anything involving principle, what he viewed as the right thing to do or when it came to the well-being of our team members.

He cared about my well-being too, and I’ll never forget the most difficult meeting of my business career when I sat in Bill’s living room on a cold January morning in 2008 and delivered the news that my career was taking me in a new direction. I’m slow to tear up but that meeting was a definite exception. It was the right decision for me, but near impossible to share that news with someone who had been a staunch supporter of mine for so many years.

Bill had an affinity for and could afford lavish travel, luxurious automobiles, fine cigars and living life to his fullest, but in spite of this he never came across as superior or arrogant. To the contrary, he could connect with anyone.

A few years following my departure from ABQC we crossed paths in Marco Island, Florida, and I accepted Bill’s invitation to join him and some of his friends for coffee. One might think the get-together would take place in the café of a grand beach hotel, as a group of retired corporate executives shared insights on the content of the day’s Wall Street Journal. Nope. Bill gave me the address of the local McDonald’s where we sipped black coffee at a laminate table with retired farmers, blue-collar workers and former small business owners. While a man of refined tastes, Bill was always most comfortable around the genuine and the ordinary. I think his kinship with people, all people, is what drove him to share a lesson that has stuck with me for decades.

I knew Bill as a person who would go way out of his way to help anyone. I once witnessed him pen a six-figure check to an individual who had made a referral that led to a business acquisition that benefited him. He was under no contractual obligation to do so, he just said it was the right thing to do. In the same spirit, he invested hours of his time offering ideas and support to other businesses that weren’t even our customers and assisting people that weren’t part of our company.

Out of curiosity, I once asked him why he spent so much time helping people that had nothing to do with our business. His answer has become one of my mantras in business and in my personal life.

“I never hurt myself by helping other people.”

That lesson never left me. Bill gave generously of his time and treasure, expecting nothing in return. His sole reasoning for doing so was that it was the right thing to do, but in the process and as a result, Bill brought blessings upon himself and those around him. Most of the people he helped over decade upon decade never forgot it.

I never did. Thank you, Bill.