It was a privilege slightly to know for decades this kind, gracious, warm, astute, upbeat principal, then, president of the Marine Chartering Group. Well and ever remember the infectious spirit of Mr and Mrs Tede.
Chartering founder George C Kiskaddon had molded a small, tight, brilliant and accomplished team of feisty business partners. To act upon his enthusiasms for (sailing) education and (maritime) pollution clean-up, he formed the nonprofit Oceanic Society, whose staffer drew me in for consultative organizing.
Chartering, in its fabulous, 1970s, historic Haslett Warehouse, northwest corner offices, situated over Harry Dring's marine history workbenches, opposite its floating results (square-rigged Alaska [salmon] packer, Balclutha, and other vessels) at Aquatic Park, kitty-corner from the Hyde cable turntable's crowds, and all-hours waterfront nexus, Buena Vista Cafe, indeed, directly looking to the Pacific, Golden Gate, Mt Tam, was a quiet telex, digital threshold era's microcosm of a world I knew as a child--the Financial District's Wilbur-Ellis & Connell Bros where my mother worked, a whole floorfull's bullpen of four-carbons typing and document-traffic personnel supporting a periphery of trading partners and their profitable processing of data chattered out from the big mailroom's multiple overseas cable terminals.
Chartering with its small partnership team and three administrative aces was a rather more serene miniature of WilCon's international import-export, shipping and project, business intelligence hive--like Charles Koch's empire, like the CIA/omniscient data hooverers and analyzers mastering, competing in, excelling at global information, for the Group's advantage, productivity, success at commerce: George, Jacob, Dieter, 'Viki', Holger, Kyle, John...matching impatient cargoes to vessels and routings, edge and opportunity, port from port, sea to sea. Seen from San Francisco and other strategic, sentient harbors, an intercontinental dance, like the plastics, chemicals, radionucleides, sewerage and garbage washing downstream and by currents from our two-leggeds' consumption to every beach around the ocean river.
Because of his good-humored slight skepticism at what we fevered ocean conservationists were up to, a tiny wet version of the Sierra Club, cheered by riverkeepers and resource legalists, inspired by Joan McIntyre's pioneering whale-saving campaign, driven by Capt. Cousteau's televised passion, grandly idealistic like the Law of the Sea treaty, "Common Heritage" negotiations kedging forward at the UN, aspiring to the actually forceful, game-changing interventions of Greenpeace crews and corps, we Oceanic advocates, in our causateering corner of Chartering's, blue water (high seas) revenue, brain shop, truly valued Dieter's occasional look-ins, listening, appraisal, comment and especially his apparent approval.
The leader of us all, George, of course had bluster in his creative, incisive. aggressive mix. The partners were more judicious and careful as well as equally precise personalities. And reserved, too.
But at the office or in social or celebratory settings Dieter was the most expansive, questioning but encouraging, conservative but wholly informed, subtly enthusiastic, just plain warm generous bloke.
Tall, no-nonsense, centered in his zest with life, even at arm's length in the dynamic Marine Chartering quarters and flow of San Francisco days a pleasure, something of a paragon of intent and integrity, to be around and infused by.
Thank you, Dieter.
John C. Diamante