Most individuals who become Department of Environmental Protection commissioners are lawyers or scientists. Many have experience in government, or in large private organizations. And, undoubtedly, all of them find that the management of DEP, and the complex responsibilities entrusted to that agency, are the biggest challenges of their careers.
Bob Hughey was neither a lawyer nor a scientist. He was a planner — or, perhaps, more accurately, a doer. And, despite his dearth of technical environmental experience, he managed DEP with a panache and an ease that was not seen before and has not been seen since.
Bob was definitely not your typical bureaucrat. He displayed a cool, casual, confident style — from his dress and informality to his choice of a turbo-charged Thunderbird for his self-driven Cabinet car — that allowed him to deal effectively with all kinds of powerful and powerless people and to avoid being overwhelmed by some truly scary situations. And perhaps even more impressive, Bob seemed to genuinely be having fun as he dealt with one eco-disaster after another with apparent ease and grace.
Bob also had a knack for getting to the heart of a complex issue, and in identifying the people and actions needed to address any problem. He had a sense of confidence in his staff that was infectious, as he made you believe that you could certainly do more that you had ever dreamed you were capable of. The early “Saturday Night Live” television show had a cast of previously unknown comics who were called then “The Not Ready for Prime Time Players.” Bob had what he called his “B Team” — a group of young professionals from varying backgrounds, each of whom he had personally determined (for reasons we could not fathom) had the “right stuff.” As a not yet 30-something young lawyer, and most definitely not ready for prime time, I was privileged to join other members of that team — which included Brenda Davis, Tom Burke, Rick Gimello, Jerry Burke, Lino Pereira and Bart Bennett. Bob proceeded over the course of the next four years to give us responsibilities far beyond our years or experience, as well as a tutorial in inspired and ethical management. He was like that really cool teacher you admired so much in high school to us, but he was also a helpful mentor and a true friend.
Bob’s regular advice to us was that if you are going to get in trouble, get in trouble for doing something, rather than not doing something. And he was fiercely loyal and supportive as we used every tool at our disposal, including the governor’s emergency authority, to address environmental issues ranging from dioxin and radon contamination, to listing more Superfund sites than any other state, to suing the Environmental Protection Agency for denying our natural resource damage claims, to protecting the last nesting habitat of bald eagles in New Jersey. He also told us often to “err on the side of God and the angels” and somehow managed to follow his own advice, even when we asked him to sign a directive letter to the Catholic Archdiocese of Newark, which owned the property where the PJP landfill was burning underground and threatening to close the Pulaski Skyway.
Early on, as Bob regularly dealt with powerful folks who threatened to have him fired, he demonstrated that he had quickly learned a lesson that some other commissioners never quite figured out. He believed that “you are not really negotiating unless you can walk away from the table.” While others would have questioned themselves and simply caved in to pressure when the going got tough, Bob not only told truth to power, but added that he did not need this job, and he was fine if the powerful interest he had offended by holding them accountable for an environmental wrong wanted to try and get him fired.
As I am sure that my fellow “B Team” members would agree, working for Bob during those years of environmental hyperactivity was an incredibly heady and life-altering experience, especially for a young professional. Following Bob’s lead, we learned to be cool and calm under fire, but still not terribly impressed with ourselves. He just had a way of not taking himself too seriously that kept you from getting too full of yourself. I remember well one tense meeting when he read the riot act to senior managers at EPA, and we stormed out of the meeting only to find that we had forgotten where we had parked his car. Far from being embarrassed, Bob thought it was just about the funniest thing that had ever happened to him, as we crisscrossed the parking lot in search of the car — in full view of the bureaucrats he had just dressed down. That was just Bob being Bob.
DEP has had many talented and charismatic commissioners since its creation in 1970. And I have had some wonderful opportunities to work with each one of the individuals who has held that job. Some were clearly more qualified than Bob to take on the enormous challenges of running such a large and complex agency. But I can honestly say that none of them managed to do the job with the verve and joy that Bob brought to the task. I shall miss him dearly as a cool teacher, as a mentor and as a lifelong friend.