This past weekend, the world lost an incredible man. Phillip W. Farmer (known to myself, my siblings, my cousins, my friends, and many others as PDub) was a CEO, a philanthropist, a husband, a patriarch, and a role model. His list of accomplishments and contributions is long and jaw-dropping, but this is not meant to be a compilation of everything he did as a public figure. This is the memory of an important person through the eyes of his grandson.
I came in to this world as the eldest son of PDub’s eldest son, and with that came Phillip (which I as the 3rd generation would now consider a family name) as my middle name, like my father before me. Being the oldest means a distinct lack of older siblings to look up to, but that didn’t occur to me until I was an adult. As a child, teenager, and adolescent, I always had two role models to admire: PDub and my dad. The latter was easy and came immediately. He’s my dad, I’m basically wired to admire him. PDub was clearly admirable as well, however the reasons to truly look up to him revealed themselves over time.
The first thing I remember admiring about PDub was that he went to Duke. I didn’t know why it mattered as a kid, but the association was there from the start. We loved the Blue Devils. We rooted for Duke basketball no matter what. When we parted ways, the farewell was exclusively “See you around the Quad!” It wasn’t until I was an adult that I figured out just why there was so much pride based around something like where he went to college, which I essentially took as a given.
Phillip Farmer started his life in North Carolina. At age 8, he was working on tobacco and cotton farms. Hard work was instilled in him from the get go, as was the drive to make a better life than the one he had. This inexhaustible work ethic, the cornerstone of his person, never faded from him. In high school, he took on work at a radio station while continuing to excel in school, and after graduation was accepted into Duke University. This was the first major step towards a lifetime of accomplishments that would never be taken for granted.
PDub would go on to do a plethora of noteworthy things in his life. He became the CEO of Harris Corp. He contributed endlessly to his local community. He maintained a healthy, happy marriage for 50+ years and started our family. And every single one of these achievements was more than just a milestone to him. They were each a badge of honor.
Being in PDub’s presence was unlike anything else. His friendly, upbeat demeanor functioned as a perfect buffer to his laser-focused intensity. As someone who always sought his approval, speaking to him was simultaneously inviting and gentle, yet intimidating. He never demanded or even requested that you impress him, you simply knew that you wanted to. He was someone you could go to with anything, and you would always walk away with advice, an insight, or reinforcement. It was never negative.
If PDub had one quality that went largely unnoticed, it was that he was a storyteller. Not in the sense that he enjoyed writing or that he often reminisced. No, his storytelling was much more long-form than that. PDub took great pride in enhancing others’ life stories. For us, his family, he used his wealth to provide us with opportunities and guidance. For those on his scholarship at Florida Tech, he provided the means to learn and make a name for themselves. For his many colleagues, in both philanthropy and his career, he put his all into building better organizations and helped to create legacies.
At age 22, I had graduated from Florida State and had no direction and no prospects. I decided to use money that PDub had invested for me to take a crack at starting a business. I discussed it with him, explained the business plan, the product, the strategy, and everything that I felt he needed to hear. All that mattered to me was a thumbs up, and I got it. That was an incredible feeling. For about 2 years I pursued my business, and in the end I failed. I dreaded reporting this back to my grandfather and disappointing him, but when the time came and I explained my decision to walk away, he applauded me for knowing when to throw in the towel. That feeling was unlike anything I’ve ever felt, but that’s who PDub was. He understood that the benefits of learning from experience outweighed the risk of failure.
When I think of how to honor PDub as a person, that quality, the unrelenting support of those who put forth effort, is what stands out to me. PDub has always been a proponent of carving your path, creating something for yourself. My grandfather may be gone, but the stories he helped to start continue on. The least we can do, all of us who were affected by his infinite generosity, love, and positivity, is to use the tools he gave us to write the best endings we possibly can. One day I’ll see him again, and I’ll be damned if I don’t approach him with one hell of a completed story, one that allows me to wear my middle name as the badge of honor that it is.
Rest in peace, PDub. See you around the Quad.
