Doug was born in Peru. His father Harry was the head of a Canadian mining company there. His mother Dorothy--Dot-- was one of the loveliest women I have ever known. He was soon shipped off to boarding school in New England and almost immediately as part of an exchange program he found himself at Gordonstone in Scotland. One of of his schoolmates was Prince Charles. Thus began world travel that would eventually bring Doug to more than 144 countries mostly in service to others. He graduated from and received an MBA from Rollins College in Winter Park Florida. He served on the debate team and partied like there was no tomorrow. He constantly regaled me with stories from Rollins. He truly loved the school.
He was working in a bank in Toronto and living with a girlfriend. He returned to Rollins for the wedding of a friend and immediately fell head over heels in love with Joan. He called the bank and told them he had been delayed on family business. He just hung around Rollins and waited for her to get out of class. Eventually he went back, broke up with the girlfriend, resigned from the bank and married Joan. Yes, my friend was a romantic as well.
I met Doug at a time of great transition for both of us. A shared sense of humor and an interest in many of the same things formed a quick friendship. Doug 's careers in banking and business had been unrewarding and he decided he wanted to work at a non profit. At the time I was Chairman of the Board of the Alexandria Chapter of the Red Cross. A job came up as head of public relations and development. He was vastly over qualified for the job and Darlene Johnson, the manager, did not want to hire him. I gave him a glowing reference, even though I did not know him well, and after her first two choices turned down the job, Doug was hired. He made us both look good. He loved the job and he loved Alexandria. Strolling around Old Town, going to lunch, banking at Burke and Herbert, coming over to Lee Street for pasta were all delights for him. And like the lifelong student he was he learned all he could about the Red Cross.
He soon got to know colleagues in other branches and particularly at the national headquarters in Washington. One of them remembered that Doug spoke fluent Spanish. The day after Hurricane Andrew struck South Florida Doug was sent to Miami where he would spend the next eight weeks in disaster relief. Soon after his return he went to the District of Columbia chapter and not long after that to the American Red Cross as head of disaster relief for Latin America. He was an immediate success. His fluency in Spanish and Portugese combined with his great knowledge of the region and its various cultures endeared him to the Red Cross leaders of all the countries he served. He was hired away by the Campaign for the America's.
Much of Doug's sense of humor was irreverent. It was formed and nurtured in prep schools and boys can be brutal. Doug was one of the best and he could find humor in just about any situation.
Although he took his work very seriously, he could always make a joke particularly if the bureaucratic nonsense called for it. His new boss did not share his sense of humor. It was a difficult year. Soon his former bosses urged him to "come home to the Red Cross." He returned as the head of International Disaster Relief, a job he embraced with even more passion. His boss
"Jones" as he always referred to him could not have been more different from Doug and yet these two men formed a unique professional bond that was the very essence of the kind of working relationship that most people would envy. And they were true Red Crossers in the very best sense. It was unfortunate that they and the other dedicated people they worked with had
to suffer from the parade of pompous, totally incompetent and ineffectual presidents that the Board of Directors chose during those years. I was hoping that Doug would someday write a book about it. Alas..
There is one story about Doug Allen, the man and the humanitarian, that I love. Doug was in Nicaragua immediately after the earthquakes and ensuing mud slides. Mrs. Dole, then the president of the Red Cross flew down to take maximum advantage of the situation. Mrs. Dole was visiting a destroyed village. She surrounded herself with an army of public relations people. A very small boy ran up and hugged her during the visit. One of the PR twits insisted that the boy go with them to a press conference at a luxury hotel and ordered Doug to bring the boy. Doug tried to explain that the stark contrast between the hotel and mud soaked tent the boy was living in could cause great emotional harm. The PR twit insisted. "No' said Doug. "Then I will take him myself." "Don't touch that boy" ordered Doug. "Or what?" said the twit. Overweight, out of shape, much older than this man, Doug stared at him through the thick glasses he had worn since childhood, "Or I'll kill you." As the twit started to pee in his pants he slipped in the mud and fell on his ass.
Doug loved golf and Belle Haven. We never got to play as much golf together as we had hoped but we spent countless hours watching the pros on television laughing, telling stories and being great friends. He loved movies, books (he was the best read person I have ever known),Jack Lemon, theatre, big bands, the Algonquin, the Seldom Scene, Morton's, sweaters, custom made clothes, the Morrison House, Bistrot Lafayette, Cafe Delat, Bee, Andrea's beauty and her singing, Michelle, Sandy , Pat, his sister and Robert his brother and me.
And I loved him too.
