Imagine walking into a program review meeting underprepared, hoping to wing your way through.

Now picture Brian O’Heron, world-class Program Director, sitting across the table, fixing you with a steely gaze as he asks one question: “How come you don’t know this?”

For those who worked with Brian, these moments weren’t just common; they were life-changing. He didn’t tolerate fluff, excuses, or vagueness. He taught precision, accountability, and action.

And in doing so, he didn’t just improve projects; he changed how people thought about leadership and teamwork.

A few weeks back, I published an article on Speech 53, Brian’s no-nonsense system for cutting through vague qualifiers like “I was led to believe…” or “It’s my assumption that…” to demand clarity and ownership.

That philosophy struck a chord with so many of you – and for good reason.

Speech 53 wasn’t just a method; it was a mindset, one that transformed how countless project managers approached their work and, ultimately, how they delivered results.

But Speech 53 was just the beginning.

This article dives deeper into the man behind the philosophy – Brian O’Heron himself. His teachings and management style weren’t just about words; they were about fostering a culture where clarity and accountability weren’t optional.

And while the anecdotes may seem intense, remember this: every principle Brian lived by was applied – where failure simply wasn’t an option.

A True Original: Straight from the Shoulder, No Fluff

Brian was unapologetically American. He had cut his teeth in the airline industry with the computer manufacturer Univac – building airline reservation systems – where precision wasn’t optional, and failure could ground fleets.

That experience shaped his approach to everything: he told it like it was – straight from the shoulder, with no obfuscation.

Facts were king, and anything less than full transparency was unacceptable.

When he crossed the Atlantic to work in the UK, Brian found himself surrounded by old-fashioned British management behaviours of the 1980s – rituals, deference to hierarchy, and endless posturing.

To him, this was intolerable – especially in a company that wasn’t delivering results.

Why focus on appearances when the results didn’t measure up? Brian’s contempt for what he called the “Savile Row Spectacle” was both well-known and polarising.

Brian didn’t care about appearances, hierarchy, or rituals.

He cared about outcomes.

That mindset clashed with many of his peers – but it resonated deeply with those who valued action over ego.

Blame Game? Think Twice Before You Try It

If there’s one lesson about accountability that stands out, it’s this: never shift the blame.

If you dared to point the finger at someone else for your failure to do something, Brian wouldn’t just let it slide.

Within minutes, he would summon that person into the room to account for their “supposed” failure. Many learned – to their cost and embarrassment – that this information had to be accurate. Not some trumped-up, lame excuse.

Imagine being in the middle of a review, confidently blaming someone else for your failure, only to have Brian say, “Let’s get them in here right now.” And he meant it.

Within moments, the “accused” would be in the room, facing Brian’s no-nonsense questioning.

It was an unforgettable shock for those who thought they could get away with deflecting responsibility.

The embarrassment was intense, and once it happened, it rarely needed to happen again.

You learned quickly: if you were going to shift the blame, you’d better have the facts to back it up – or, better yet, own your failure.

The Smooth-Talkers Who Didn’t Return

Even when people knew about Brian’s style, some would still attempt to smooth-talk their way through a Program Review.

They’d bring no substance to the table, hoping charisma and corporate buzzwords could fill the gaps.

It never worked.

Brian’s Program Reviews weren’t a place for charm or spin – they were a crucible for facts and clarity. When the smooth-talking failed (as it always did), those individuals rarely returned for a second attempt.

Program Reviews under Brian were not optional and certainly not forgiving.

The lesson? If you didn’t know your stuff, it was better to skip the meeting altogether – though, in truth, even that wasn’t an option.

The Management Dining Room: A Perfect Metaphor

The infamous British senior management dining room was the epitome of everything Brian despised.

Silver service, printed menus, uniformed female staff, and directors in Savile Row suits – sipping Campari Ice and Soda – while the people doing the work ate in the canteen.

Brian tried it once or twice but quickly bowed out when he realised that the “entry fee” was a jacket and tie – and the willingness to endure the posturing.

“If that’s leadership,” he said, “no wonder the company’s sinking.”

And here’s the kicker.

Don’t think this doesn’t happen in a modern organisation today – it absolutely does.

Status issues, refusal to join meetings that are “beneath” someone, dithering over decisions that need to be made, outright refusal to make critical calls. It’s all still there.

Whether it’s review meetings, self-congratulatory retreats, or empty displays of hierarchy, the “Savile Row Spectacle” is still alive and well.

Brian’s disdain for these rituals wasn’t just about the ritual – it was about what it represented: form over substance, ego over outcomes.

These were the behaviours he actively dismantled in every team he led.

The Critical Path: Get On It, Then Get Off It

One of Brian’s most memorable lessons was about the Critical Path, the shortest route through every program.

He used to say, “It’s my job to get as many people as possible on the Critical Path – because that way, we’re driving the program as fast as possible.”

But having placed you on the Critical Path, it was your job to get off it. There’s no time to hang around.

For Brian, the Critical Path wasn’t a place for passengers or procrastinators. It was for doers who could solve problems, clear blockers, and then move aside to let others through.

His logic was ruthless but effective: the faster you cleared the path, the faster the project moved.

If you didn’t understand your role on the Critical Path, or worse if you lingered there too long, you weren’t just holding up the program – you were failing.

Escalation Done Right: The Rule of 24 Hours

If you really want to understand why Brian struck fear into the hearts of some, look no further than his approach to escalation.

For Brian, escalation wasn’t just a process – it was a test of your competence.

Here’s how it went – if you escalated a problem to someone without the authority to fix it, Brian would blow a gasket.

If you said you’d escalated – but nothing happened, he’d dissect your failure on the spot.

To Brian, escalation wasn’t about passing the buck but clearing a blockage or breaking a deadlock. And if it didn’t result in action within 24 hours, you hadn’t escalated it properly.

Fearsome but Fair: The Mentor Who Built Better Leaders

So yes, Brian could be fearsome – but only to those who weren’t prepared.

For everyone else, he was a mentor, a role model, and a leader who embodied clarity and accountability.

He didn’t just improve results; he built better leaders.

Some of Brian’s principles – Speech 53, the Critical Path, and his approach to escalation -weren’t just lessons.

They were a masterclass in how to lead, deliver, and succeed on large, complex, business-critical programs.

For those fortunate enough to work with him, his teachings were more than valuable – they fundamentally changed how people approached leadership, accountability, and delivering results.

Brian’s principles were not simply lessons – they’re a proven roadmap to success.

The real challenge? Having the grit to embrace them and make them your own.

Are you ready to take that step?

 

About the author

David Hilliard is founder of Mentor, specialists in strategic program execution.

You can call him on 0118 359 2444 or email david.hilliard@mentoreurope.com.