Table of Contents
By David Pinto
Jim Devine passed away earlier this month at age 86, a victim of uncooperative kidneys.
If his name doesn’t automatically call up the legend of such retailers as Sam Walton, Sam Skaggs, Stu Turley, Sid Dworkin and so many others, that doesn’t mean that Devine was any less valuable and any less a part of the chain drug industry. Rather, it’s perhaps time to recall that old and time-worn bromide: To those who knew Jim Devine, no explanation is necessary; to those who did not, no explanation is possible.
Devine spent a lifetime in chain drug retailing, and anyone or anything he touched was better for the experience. For a time, he headed one of the nation’s important drug chains. For an even longer period, he led one of the industry’s two important merchandising groups. In both capacities, he was always available, always participatory, always a valuable addition to an event, a discussion, an idea — with the inevitable result that an activity with which he became engaged was the better for his engagement. Put another way, he was known for, among other qualities, his creative thinking, his willingness to commit himself and the soundness of his recommendations.
But none of these accolades, sincere as they are, get to the heart of who Devine really was. In an industry that, sadly, today lacks leaders with the commitment and the capacity of Devine, he was always open handed, always available, invariably willing to stand up for what he believed was right — even if standing up didn’t necessarily bring him the praise and admiration that was his just due.
Devine traveled a lot — primarily to industry events, even, perhaps especially, if those events called on him to leave the United States. The benefit to his fellow travelers, in addition to the thinking he brought with him, was the way his appearances stamped an occasion as important. “Oh, Devine’s here — this must be something I should be at as well,” was a common reaction among his fellow travelers.
Equally important, and something that’s long been absent (Devine retired years ago), was the way he belonged. He didn’t announce his presence — he really didn’t need to. Rather, he just … showed up. It was where he believed he needed to be. True … but not as true as the fact that his peers needed him to be there.
And so, once again and all too frequently these days, we say a sad goodbye to an industry legend. His departure calls to mind that of Jim Whitman, another industry legend, who will retire in just three months (more about Jim Whitman at a later date). Jim Devine and Jim Whitman are not people who will be difficult to replace. Rather, they are irreplaceable. And each departure, in whatever form it takes, detracts from an industry whose people, more than any other factor, combined to make it what it has become — and what we live in perennial danger of losing.
Bye, Jim. See you soon.
