Our industry is full of smart analysts, who are often a complex mix of bravado and uncertainty. Always questioning the truth of an announcement or the introduction of new things creates the uncertainty, while demonstrating the way things will work out can seem like bravado to those who haven’t gone through the same thought processes.
One of my closest friends, Chris Christiansen, passed away last week – he was the greatest of analysts and showed these characteristics. While our industry will be poorer for the loss of his insight, I’ll miss most his constant support in helping me celebrate success and cope with disappointment and tragedy.I first met Chris in the early nineties when we both worked for IDC – at the time a wild west of a company based in Framingham MA with a maverick European division in which I worked. We were both in the systems group at the time and would engage in internal planning meetings once a year in New England. With a lack of clarity about my reporting lines, partially on Chris’s advice, I decided early on in my career to align more closely with our US business since it had better analysts and a clearer structure. Although he started off as a hardware analyst, Chris moved to security research, so we seldom took part in planning meetings together after the first few years. However he was always a great advisor on what customers wanted and the (sometimes very different) views of the way more senior people in our company were thinking.
After that, when I came to Massachusetts I would stay in his and Amy’s home in Georgetown, where I got to meet his brother Tom and other members of his family. He also stayed with Sally, my children and me in Didcot when he came to the UK, most notably when air travel was suspended in 2011 by the eruption of a volcano in Iceland.
He helped me come to terms with my difficult departure from IDC and setting up ITCandor in 2009, always encouraging my efforts kindly and realistically. Shortly afterwards Sally and I greatly enjoyed visiting Georgetown on a short holiday.
I remember well:
- Being driven fast by Chris in his Audi TT to Framingham in the ice when he mentioned that TTs sometimes ‘flip’ (which was both funny and worrying),
- When he suggested the second analyst to write about an industry event should chose the opposite view of the first or not bother,
- When he guessed my bank card pin number when I couldn’t remember it, to buy a guitar just in time from a second-hand shop to drive from Marblehead to Boston airport,
- Going to buy beer and enjoying the refrigeration of a local store for a time on a very hot day…
He was always smart, entertaining and funny.
He and Amy came over regularly for my musical events in the UK (I’m a saxophonist and guitarist in case you didn’t know), such as our gig in Woodstock next to Blenheim palace, as well as my 50th and (most recently) my 60th birthday parties in Didcot and Steventon. He was never a passive member of the audience, being the first to carry the amplifiers, clear the snow, get the van working, etc. while Amy helped Sally – and most recently Lizzie – in preparing the food and drink.
When Sally became ill and passed away in 2015 again Chris and Amy came over, helping the family immensely as we tried to face up to the tragedy. He followed and encouraged Lizzie’s success as a fossil hunter and preparator and Jen’s, as a rock musician.
The last message I got from Chris was this year. Typically I sent my Xmas card too late to arrive in time, but he sent me back a Happy New Year card in which he said he and Amy intended to visit the UK later in 2020. I’ll be going to his memorial service in March to celebrate his life… and afterwards I hope Amy will be able to come over as they had both planned.
Chris and Amy always give the best presents; I toasted him over the weekend by pouring a glass of the 25 year old Macallan whisky they gave me on my 60th into the sax.co.uk mug they gave me on 60th.
In his passing the industry has lost a spectacular analyst, but those of us who knew him well have lost a more fantastic friend. Rest in Peace.