I read that Scott Adams, creator of the Dilbert comic strip, died on January 13th, 2026. This got me thinking about Kurt Schweer (who died in 1996), how Kurt introduced me to Scott (in 1982?), and how Crocker National Bank hired Lou Tice's Pacific Institute to teach me about "Affirmations". This story is based on my memory, so is subject to the kinds of mistakes that memories can have.
I remember meeting Scott Adams when he worked at Crocker National Bank's main headquarters in San Francisco. His boss, Kurt Schweer, introduced him to me at one of our El-Farto "belly bomb" runs...
Kurt Scweer was a dear friend of mine. I met him during my work at Crocker from 1980 to 1986. He later came to work for my company, Wally Industries (dba WJM Technologies), leaving in less than a year after being diagnosed with terminal cancer in 1994.
Kurt was kind, helpful, and an amazing negotiator. A manager in Crocker's commercial loans department, I first worked with Kurt when I heard he had successfully wrested a monthly copy of the CLAS files (Commerical Loans Accounting System) from the accounting department.
In his typical innovative fashion, he did an end-run around the 10-year-queue for program development by negotiating a monthly raw "flat file" download. He then populated a Datatrieve database on his department's own computer system (a DEC VAX).
I was working in the auditing department (Credit Review), building statistical models to monitor the bank's $13 billion loan portfolio. Ron Osborn was my boss and fellow statistician (another kind, thoughtful, and helpful manager). Ron and I were always on the lookout for more loan data, so when Kurt invited other departments to have access to his computer system with CLAS, we jumped at the chance.
Kurt and I became close friends. We were both closet digital electronics nerds with an inventor's spirit. We often went to lunch together.
"Belly bombs at El Farto's?"
"Sounds good to me!"
"El Farto's" was "El Faro's", on Mission Street in San Francisco, long before "South of Market" became the darling of the web. I would leave my offices on the 13th floor of 595 Market and Kurt would come from 1 Montgomery. We'd meet at the corner of Market and New Montgomery, walking the block or so to the cafeteria-style restaurant called El Faro's. I would get a giant cheese and bean burrito and Kurt would get the meat version.
We lovingly called the burritos "belly bombs" because they were three inches in diameter and about eight inches long. Each was wrapped in aluminum foil. We always managed to finish the burrito, holding the hefty meal while peeling the aluminum foil off like a banana. As often as not, we'd regret eating the whole burrito about two hours later! [The burritos were similar to the ones I now get at Chipotle.]
One day, Kurt brought along one of his enterprising workers.
"This is Scott Adams," Kurt introduced.
"I'm gonna make the bank $1 million dollars!" Scott said.
Well, that might not have been the first thing Scott said. But it was certainly his second or third sentence. I dismissed him as an arrogant upstart, mainly because I was jealous of his focus, determination, and commitment to the Bank. In any case, Scott became a regular to our belly bomb runs.
"You want me to hypnotize you?" he'd ask every time.
"No thanks."
Scott also talked of other exotic topics, like after-life and reincarnation. I remember how excited he was when Crocker hired The Pacific Institute to give us all management training. We watched Lou Tice on tape talking about the power of "affirmations."
"It's a form of self-hypnosis," Scott would explain, thrilled that the whole bank was going to be hypnotized.
As usual, I was aloof, skeptical about the whole approach, and unwilling to trust my subconscious with control of my conscious.
Until the day I couldn't get a job done...
I had bought a "fixer-upper" in East Oakland back in 1980. I loved projects, especially outside in the garden. The house was on a lot that was on a hill with a deep back yard. To turn the space into a beautiful garden, I needed to build some retaining walls. Well, more than just "some." I needed to build three 100-foot sections of 2-foot-high retaining wall. That's a lot of retaining wall, especially when I was building it all by myself, on a budget of under $1,000.
I researched materials, decided I liked the railroad tie retaining wall, both for ease of installation and rough natural look. Or maybe it was because every day, riding the bus to and from San Francisco, I passed a mountain of railroad ties. The mountain was beneath the MacArthur Maze, the interchange at the east end of the Bay Bridge, where I-80 / I-580 / Highway 17 collided. [Note: 17 is now called the 880 since the collapse and rebuild from the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake.] There, beneath the 4-deck interchange, was the dumping ground for old railroad ties.
In search of ties, I visited the old railroad yard. The first thing I saw was a huge jumble of railroad ties, a pyramid rising some 30 feet.
"How much for railroad ties?" I asked the man who met me at the mound.
"These are our best ties: no cracks, chips, good condition."
"How much?"
"$12 a tie."
Each tie was 8-feet long and 8 inches high. That meant I needed about 120 railroad ties ((24" high / 8" per tie) x (300' of retaining wall / 8' per tie)). Given the price, I did the math: $12x120=$1,440. Too much.
"You said these are your best? Are there cheaper ties?"
Without comment, the fellow led me around the first pile to another huge pile.
"These aren't as good, have some defects, but aren't splitting."
"How much?"
"$10 a tie."
$10x120=$1,200. Still too much.
"Do you have cheaper ties?"
He gave me a glance, but led me around the second pile to a third pile.
"These are our worst ties," he said.
And they looked awful: twisted, split, broken. I suspected they kept this pile just to convince people to buy from the other two.
"How much?"
"$8 a tie."
Still too much. I was about to give up when I saw another, smaller pile.
"What about those?"
"Oh, nobody wants those. They're old, not even creosoted."
And it was true. The first piles of ties had been black with creosote. You could smell the creosote. The ties in this smaller pile were gray, not black, but looked in good condition. I walked towards the smaller pile
"How much for those?"
"$5 a tie, but don't recommend them. No creosote. They'll rot."
They looked old, but hadn't rotted yet.
"I'll take one, just to try it out," I said.
He didn't object, sold me one for $5. He helped me load it into my little 1966 Toyota Corona. He gave me some red tape for the part that was sticking out the window.
"That tie's a lot lighter than the creosote ties," he noted.
"You deliver?"
"Yes we do."
"Thank you."
When I got the tie back to my house, I dragged it into the garage. It weighed about 40 lbs. I looked at the tie. The wood was different, had turned gray. I got out my Sears Roebuck Craftsman circular saw and cut into the end of the tie. The garage filled with a familiar smell, the same smell as when I was building my redwood deck. And the sawdust coming off my saw was reddish. Could these ties be redwood? It didn't seem possible. Redwood is too expensive. As the end came off, I saw that it WAS redwood. Redwood railroad ties!
After some some research, I found out that in the late 1800's California railroad ties were made from original growth redwoods! Then the railroad companies discovered that redwood is too soft. It makes lousy ties.
My mind started getting creative. If these are redwood, what if I cut this tie down the middle? I'd still have a four-inch thick redwood retaining wall, plenty for just two feet high. And I'd cut the price in half! (Well, almost in half. If the wall was only four inches thick, I'd need to put in posts too.)
But my circular saw only cut about two inches deep, and even cutting both sides meant I'd still have four inches to go. Then I got REAL creative. What if I cut the ties lengthwise on both sides and then split them. I went to Sears to look for a good wedge and bought a few "wood grenades."
These nasty-looking splitting wedges were just the ticket. I moved the tie to the back patio, ran my circular saw down both sides. That new Sears carbide-tip blade cut through the redwood like butter! I got out my sledge hammer, tapped the first, then the second wood grenade into place. With an overhead swing of the sledge, I whacked the first wedge hard, right on the button. To my surprise, the wood was brittle. Another blow to the second wedge and the tie popped apart, split perfectly, straight as an arrow, down the middle! Inside was the reddest, tightest, pure heart (no knots) redwood I have ever seen! The grain was five times tighter than the heart redwood I'd bought for the deck.
And if I split the ties I only needed 60. I'd only spend $300, well under budget, even paying for the wood grenades, carbide-tip blade, post-hole digger, posts and concrete.
I ordered the ties and they were delivered. I figured a post every three feet would be more than enough. All I had to do was dig 100 post holes, set the posts, split and place the ties, and back-fill. I'd have a solid foundation for a beautiful terraced garden!
I measured out the placement of the walls, marked the spots for the post holes, and bought a manual post-hole digger (at Sears, again). The next weekend I started digging the post holes, each 30 inches deep.
The ground was hard-pack clay! It took me an hour to dig my first three holes. I was exhausted. On Sunday, I dug six more holes. I was exhausted and now blistered.
Nine holes a weekend meant the project would take me at least 10 weeks to finish. I was overwhelmed. Weekends went by as I found other more immediately satisfying projects to work on. Months went by. Winter and rains, spring and lots of other gardening to do in the front yard, then summer heat.
In the meantime, I had taken this course on affirmations from Lou Tice of The Pacific Institute, with Scott Adams repeatedly telling me the virtues of self-hypnosis.
For over a year the ties sat there, visible every time I looked out into the back yard.
I decided I needed help. I decided to try affirmations.
According to the Lou, I had to write my affirmations on a 3x5 index card, which I was to put on the bedside table. Every night, just before going to sleep, and every morning, just after waking up, I was to read my affirmations while thinking of something really good. I chose licking a vanilla ice cream cone.
"I'm digging post holes and loving it," I'd say to myself, licking my cone. "I'm digging post holes and loving it."
Every morning and every night I repeated my affirmation, licking my cone. I did this for about 10 days.
Saturday morning came and I woke up refreshed and feeling GREAT! I got dressed, had a quick breakfast, but was really anxious to get outside and work on the wall. I began digging post holes. I figured out that a little water filling the hole after I started it helped loosen the soil. I dug 21 holes before I suddenly stopped.
IT HAD WORKED! I had just spent the whole morning ENJOYING digging post holes!
My reaction turned to terror. How easily I had fooled myself. How completely I had been fooled. But right after that reaction came, "I don't care! I love digging post holes!"
I went on to do dig another 20 holes that afternoon! On Sunday, I set all the posts in the top retaining wall in concrete and split half the ties. During the week, I even had to keep myself from getting out there and digging more post holes after I got home from work! The next weekend I finished the top retaining wall. It looked great! Two more weekends and I finished the entire project.
Damn! Affirmations worked!
But I couldn't bring myself to tell Scott.
Scott left Crocker in 1985 (before the sale) and went on to be a famous (then infamous) creator of Dilbert. I got laid off when Midland Bank sold Crocker to Wells Fargo in 1986. Kurt and I both followed our entrepreneurial spirits into new technology. Kurt was a big advocate of voice mail. I went into expert systems (an early form of artificial intelligence).
I had the good fortune to cross paths with both Kurt and Scott on a number of occasions.
Scott had gone to work for Pacific Bell. We talked several times about how to validate phone numbers (I had developed a fraud detection expert system for the banking industry called Early Warning®). In September of 1989 Scott said Dilbert was in about 60 newspapers. He needed 200 before he could quit his day job. He talked about working on Apple computers using HyperCard, building a tour of Pacific Telesis Labs. He also sent me a "telephone dialer program" he wrote in MS-QuickBasic for the IBM PC.
In August of 1990, Scott called looking for a real estate multiple listing service that could transmit images over Pac Bell's data lines. I asked how Dilbert was doing. He said it was in 74 papers.
In July of 1991, Scott faxed me a "PhoneDisk" article announcing the white pages on CD-ROM. I ordered it and began researching ways to verify new account customer phone numbers in Early Warning®.
By July 1995, Scott no longer worked at Pacific Bell, making a living via Dilbert. I contacted him two more times. Once in 2005, when I asked him to sign a copy of one of his books for my daughter. At that time, Scott was designing a new house. I suggested he read the book The Timeless Way of Building by Christopher Alexander. Scott replied that "it looks like mostly bullshit to me, but I will keep reading trying to find the pony in the field of turds." He also loved the way I had "gouged the banks." (I don't agree with that, but Scott was a bit of a caustic cynic.) I also sent him a link to a Wikipedia page from my Google results. I had searched for Crocker National Bank. It looks like Crocker was added to Wikipedia because of Scott Adams!
I contacted Scott one more time, in 2013, to get his new address. I sent him a book of collages by Barry Kite. I had met Barry when he lived in Petaluma. His cynical sense of humor reminded me of Scott's.
Kurt went to work for VoiceCom until 1990, when he started his own company doing voice technology applications. He convinced me to buy a Watson board by Natural Microsystems which was an IBM PC plug-in board that turned the PC into a voice-mail box. At the time, my company Wally Industries (dba WJM Technologies) was still not paying me any salary, so I was exploring with Kurt other opportunities in the rapidly changing telecommunications industry. Later in 1990 WJM Technologies paid Kurt to fly to Florida and explore WJM opportunities with Compass Bank (he knew somebody who knew somebody...).
By 1994 Early WarningⓇ was making headway, paying my salary since 1992. We were looking for another salesperson. We hired Kurt as a salesperson. I trained Kurt, and was on a customer call with him when he doubled over in pain after drinking a cup of coffee. He later went to see a doctor, who suggested exploratory surgery. When Kurt woke up from surgery the doctor had removed several feet of cancer-laden intestine and gave Kurt six months to live.
I spent more time with Kurt in the next 18 months. When he wasn't visiting other states with folks offering exotic cures (once he drank horse urine to "activate his immune system"), he spent time on his house boat. In 1995 we took two wonderful trips together and explored the magical Sacramento Delta from the water, once in early September and again in late October.
Kurt died on April 28, 1996. He wasn't the sort to ask me to visit to "say goodbye." We both had made the effort to spend time together when we were well enough to enjoy our company. I didn't see him after the holidays when his health took a turn. He did tell me he was happy to have had two Christmases when his doctor told him he wouldn't live to see any.
I didn't go to the funeral, though there were those that criticized me for not going (especially my business partner). If I were to do it over, I'd go. Instead, I remember Kurt to this day as one of the bright lights in my life, a fellow explorer and tinkerer. And now, with the death of Scott Adams, I think of Kurt, Scott, affirmations, and the belly bombs ;-)
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