It is difficult to experience the sudden loss of a loved one. Although Eli Hurvitz had been in the hospital for a week, I thought he would pull through. The week before he was hospitalized, Eli and Dalia were our guests for Shabbat (Saturday) lunch with other friends. Eli was at his best. Even when the infection was discovered, I was convinced that everything would be fine and that the situation was not critical. In that respect, Eli and I were very similar. We would look at each situation optimistically.
When the options for treatment slowly ran out, Eli's chances for survival got smaller and smaller, and when finally he went into a coma and was put on a respirator, I understood that this time he was not going to make it. Yes, it took me time to internalize this. When they informed me that Eli's hours were numbered, I went to visit him. I entered his room, I spoke to him and said goodbye. A doctor in the hospital told me that hearing is the last sense that people lose before they die, but I will never know if he heard me, and if he knew what was happening around him. And then Eli died.
The superlatives are the truth
I met Eli for the first time in the mid 1970s. I had been working at a consulting firm for six years, and Eli, who was managing three companies - Assia Ltd., Teva and Zori - wanted to manage them jointly, without harming the rights of the minority. We merged them through a relatively complicated process, and when it was completed, he said to me, "You did such a good job on the merger, why don't you merge with Teva too?" I asked him what kind of position he meant, and he said, "I don't know. Just come." I liked his answer, so I joined him.
Even before that, I had gotten to know Eli and I found him to be a person who thinks differently than others do. He was daring and looked to the future. The combination of original thinking and the ability to thoroughly analyze ideas is a winning combination, and Eli had it. The phrase, "It will be okay," which is heard so often these days, was not part of Eli's vocabulary. This was the start of a longstanding connection between us.
It is customary to praise a person after he or she dies with superlatives, but very often the connection between them and reality is not strong. With Eli, the superlatives were the reality. He was enormously charismatic, and was a natural leader whom it was easy to follow. He combined naivetè and humility with a infinite vision.
Teva was shaped in his image, and it is his vision that has brought Teva to where it is today. On the one hand he was a gentleman, and on the other a people person. Before the number of Teva's employees became too large, he would walk around the production lines and ask people how they were - about their troubles and their happy events. He would ask for updates on things employees told him during previous visits.
Mr. Teva was also Mr. strategy, the first in Israeli industry. For Eli, strategy did not come down to a plaque hung in the CEO's room. It was what gave the company direction, and was embedded in middle level management as well. Eli was also the one who identified the inefficiency of the Israeli pharmaceutical industry that comprised a large number of small companies that were founded in the mid 1930s, and led a series of mergers. When we ran out of worthy candidates locally, we looked overseas.
Mr. Teva, Mr. Industry
In this way, the emerging potential of the US generic market was identified, which turned Teva into the largest player in this huge niche. At the same time, Eli heard from Prof. Michael Sela about a potential drug - Cop 1 - which later became known as Copaxone. The lucky thing is that Teva was able to take a look at the drug's file for only $50,000. If they had asked frugal Eli for $500,000 to check the file, Copaxone may never have seen the light of day.
Eli was also a patriot, and when Teva began the IPO process, Eli insisted that Teva be listed first and foremost as an Israeli company. He also insisted that the articles of association require all future CEOs to be an Israeli resident.
When Teva's annual revenue reached $200 million, Eli coined the term, "theory of the billion" when he said, "We have all of the ingredients needed to be a large company: pharmaceuticals, chemistry, veterinary, and R&D in various fields. Anywhere else in the world Teva would already have been a billion dollar company. Our sales are limited only because we are stuck in a small and isolated market in the eastern corner of the Midditeranean. We must realize our potential and reach a billion dollars. And, indeed, we did reach our goal quite quickly after implementing the appropriate strategic planning. Such a goal is dwarfed today when Teva generates $1 billion in revenue every three weeks.
A gravestone will soon be put on Eli's grave. But the real monument can already be seen by everyone travelling to Jerusalem. It is a split monument the beginning of which is the logistics building along Highway Six, on one side of which appears the Sela (SLA) logo (Solomon, Levin & Alstein) that was the origin of Teva in 1901, and on the other end of that same giant building appears Teva's modern green logo. The second part of the monument is the first building that welcomes every person coming into Jerusalem on Highway 9, the impressive pill factory.
These are the monuments to Mr. Teva, Mr. industry.
Eli, I think that I do not yet even realize how much I miss you.
Dan Suesskind was Teva CFO from 1977 until 2008, and has served on the board of directors at Teva since 2010. He is also a board member of Migdal, Israel Corp. and Syneron.
Published by Globes [online], Israel business news - www.globes-online.com - on December 14, 2011
© Copyright of Globes Publisher Itonut (1983) Ltd. 2011