An Intimate Glimpse of IBM Builder Thomas Watson Sr.

From the last interview, in 2001, with his daughter-in-law and widow of Tom Watson Jr.

It’s quite something to get intimate insights into a business legend. I was lucky enough to be among the last to personally hear some of that about Thomas Watson, who built IBM and created the computing industry.

In 2001, I interviewed Olive Watson, then 83, in her home in Greenwich, Conn. Olive was the wife of Tom Watson Jr., who took over IBM from his father in the mid-1950s. Watson Sr. died in 1956. Watson Jr. died in 1993. By 2001, Olive was the only person I could talk to who had been close to the Watson men for decades. She died in 2004.

I wanted to talk to Olive because I was writing a biography of Watson Sr., ultimately titled The Maverick and His Machine. I had already had some conversations with Lucinda Watson, Olive and Tom Watson’s daughter. Lucinda helped convince Olive to talk to me.

Lucinda sat in on the interview. Olive’s house was coincidentally next door to Lou Gerstner’s house – as I wrote about in a previous essay after Gerstner’s recent death. When I got to the house, Olive, a petite and slim former model, wore a pink sweater set and came across as active and fun. Through the living room window was a view of the water and sailboats.

While some of the interview ended up in my book, much didn’t. I cleaned up and edited it for clarity and interest. Here is what Olive had to say:

—

(About home movies of Watson Sr. and family, many of which I watched while researching the book:) They were always staged. He was very elaborate about it. He would say, we need a movie of us doing this… and set it all up.

I always called him Mr. Watson, until near the end of his life. He said I should call him Dad. I said, “Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that?” I could never call him that.

We had to come to dinner every Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. It didn’t matter about our own families. We had to be there. We’d eat at a long table. He would always have special people there, too. You’d come to dinner and there would be Mrs. Rockefeller.

He loved “names.” But didn’t drop them.

(Olive Watson with Tom Watson Jr., who has the camera.)

I was always terrified that Cindy (Lucinda) would cry or something. If anybody would do something wrong, you’d just see his eyes like this (glances stonily sideways). He loved them but wanted them to be proper.

He was always giving advice.

He loved to buy clothes for women. Mrs. (Jeannette) Watson didn’t care about clothes or jewels. I never saw Mrs. Watson wear pants. Heavens no. He would take me shopping. He loved clothes. He loved to have women look well.

When he was in Europe, he’d go to a shop and find someone my size and have her try on evening dresses. He’d bring it back and give it to me and it would fit exactly. It was amazing. He had very good taste.

He wanted to be impeccable. I never saw him with a spot or anything out of place. NEVER out of a suit. (Lucinda asks if she saw him in a robe in the morning. Olive says she must have but can’t really recall. He’d come down all in his suit.)

(I ask about Mrs. Watson. Olive quickly and good naturedly says, “I’m not the one to ask.” Smiles and laughs. It seems obvious that they didn’t get along.)

(Dick Watson was Tom Watson Jr.’s younger brother. Watson Sr. brought Dick into IBM, too, but Dick was never as successful as Tom, and had an addiction to alcohol.) Dick was getting married in July, and a week after he (Watson Sr.) had to go to Europe. He didn’t have a secretary who could go, so he made Dick come with him (along with Nancy, Dick’s wife). It was their honeymoon and he made Dick be with him at all times.

Nancy remembers the honeymoon as a nightmare.

He’d go on trips to Europe for three months. He would take the family, a maid, valet…lots of steamer trunks. (Watson Sr. refused to fly. When he traveled overseas, it was always by ship.)

He was at a fair, where you’d pay $5 for a fly around the field. He had given up his turn to get an ice cream cone. And he was next. And the plane crashed just before his turn. He always thought it could’ve been him. He was very superstitious about things like that.

(IBM famously banned alcohol, in large part following Watson Sr.’s abstinence. Olive tells a story of Watson, long before working at IBM, selling pianos in Upstate New York, off a horse and wagon.) He went into a bar to celebrate a big sale, and while in there his wagon was stolen. So he decided to never drink again.

Mrs. Watson liked to drive. She loved that electric car. Watson never did. He always had a driver.

I was eight months pregnant and I’d never had a fur coat. Mr. Watson called and told me to come to his office right away. Of course, I thought I was in trouble. But he took me to Bonwit Teller, and we went up the elevator and got off and there we were in the fur department. I let out a scream. I was huge. And here was this old man and a pregnant girl. (Olive and Lucinda laugh.) He loved surprises.

He always had hundred dollar bills in his wallet. He often gave me hundred-dollar bills. He’d hand them out. (That $100 in 1950 would be worth nearly $1400 today.)

Around the house? He’d read. I can picture him outside wearing a big straw hat and reading.

Mr. Watson couldn’t fix anything. Mrs. Watson would go to the cellar and fix things.

Mrs. Watson was very adoring. She was always nervous around him – everyone was nervous around him. Afraid to say the wrong thing.

I’d be terrified that Tom and Mr. Watson would get into a fight. Both had such strong personalities.

He took care of many people. Supported them. During war he would invite families to get them out of England…to stay with him and Mrs. Watson.

Did Mr. Watson have fun? Sometimes, but it was always studied fun. Not raucous or dirty.

He could be riding in a car to Wall Street and put his head back and sleep for 20 minutes. He had a room at 590 to take a nap. (That would be 590 Madison Ave. in New York, IBM’s headquarters then.)

(About Watson’s art collection.) He realized it was a good investment. He hired a man to buy art for him. Some of it is now very valuable. He had five Manet paintings. Always had a good eye for investments.

(About Dick Watson.) He was not a strong person. He was Mother’s favorite. A lot of fun, but couldn’t control his drinking. He was a naughty boy. He and Tom had really good fun. Wonderful jokes. He could do great accents; yodel well. Made things gay and fun.

I felt sorry for Dick. They (Tom and Dick) would have business fights. He’d take Dick down a few pegs. Just sad. Very sad.

Mr. Watson was not an athlete. Didn’t have a chance to learn a sport. He learned to ride horses.

His office was imposing and very spooky. There were no soft chairs. But beautiful English furniture.

After dinners (at IBM events), he’d sit and talk with guests and he’d talk for an hour and a half in a monotonous droning tone. Nobody would interrupt or get up and leave.

But he took care of them (IBM employees). He demanded loyalty. And they were saved.

When you first met him, you felt that power immediately.

When he was dying, we all went to the room at Roosevelt hospital. He maybe had ever been in a hospital before. The family was in the hall. We’d go in one or two at a time. I’ll never forget how white he was.

He was always eating oatmeal.

My husband had a pretty woman as secretary, and Mr. Watson said to him that if he wanted to be successful, he’d have a male secretary. (Watson Sr. always had male secretaries.)

He had more energy than anybody I’d ever known. He loved to go to parties. Formal parties.

He loved pomp and circumstance.

Tom and Mr. Watson could be like a spark. They’d go off, and that would be trouble.

There was a young woman opera singer and I think he had a real crush on her. She was beautiful and talented and would come to the house for parties. Women loved him. But I never knew of a scandal.

He loved to give directions when you were driving him.

He took us with a real estate agent when Tom got out of the Army to buy our first house. He sort of influenced us. Not my style, what he picked out: an English Tudor. Victor Borge lived next door.

—