Howard Duncan is no mere company man -- unless he owns the company. "I can't work for anyone," he says.
The independent 55-year-old Columbia man has operated a car-dealing business. He's worked as a mortician. He's run a snack bar at the Howard County Circuit Courthouse in Ellicott City. Now he's a bail bondsman.
Coming from a family of entrepreneurs, the North Carolina native says an adventure for him is starting a business from the ground up. "I think he typifies the American small-business man," said Joel Abramson, a Columbia lawyer who represents the Duncan family.
Mr. Duncan settled in Maryland in 1968 while operating his family's auto business. He bought cars in northern states and resold them in the South.
When the national auto business hit "an all-time low" in 1986, Mr. Duncan said he ventured into another longtime family profession by becoming a licensed mortician and opening Duncan Funeral Services in Laurel.
Not all Mr. Duncan's career changes have come from his taste for challenges.
The death of his youngest son, Kevin Michael Duncan in a 1989 drunken-driving crash prompted him to turn away from the funeral business.
He says he could no longer stomach the job.
"I had to go down to the morgue to identify my own child," he says. "I never realized how people felt until I was there."
Catalyst of change
He tried to use his son's death as a catalyst to change state law to hold taverns responsible for the actions of their customers.
Mr. Duncan sued Happy Harbor Inn in Anne Arundel County and its owner for negligence, alleging that his 24-year-old son had been served alcohol even though he was visibly intoxicated. Kevin Duncan left the bar, drove off the road, hit a tree and died 13 days later.
But Maryland is one of a few states where taverns are protected from such lawsuits.
So Mr. Duncan then sued to change that law, but he lost again.
Now he is considering taking the case to Maryland's highest court, the Court of Appeals.
After closing his funeral home, Mr. Duncan opened the courthouse snack bar -- a business he and his son had planned to run together. He calls the business a tribute to his son.
Mr. Duncan's street smarts help to make his businesses successful, acquaintances say.
Five years ago, when Circuit Court only offered food from vending machines, Mr. Duncan saw a niche and settled into it, Mr. Abramson says. He started with a hot dog cart in the courthouse parking lot and expanded to an indoor snack bar.
For Mr. Duncan, even the smallest detail is important. Jason Shapiro, a Columbia lawyer who represents some of Mr. Duncan's clients, recalls how Mr. Duncan conducted extensive research with customers before settling on a certain type of hot dog -- beef, not pork.
Growing restless from the snack bar routine, Mr. Duncan was ready for a new career: bail bondsman. He started the new venture out of his home in Columbia's Long Reach village in January 1994, picking up clients here and there to see if he would be successful.
As one of two bondsmen in Howard County, he hopes to build up the business so his grandchildren can take over someday. "I want to have something to offer them," he says.
Mr. Duncan already has passed his entrepreneurial skills to his sons -- one operates a carpeting business in Annapolis and the other owns three tune-up shops in Richmond, Va.
Bail bondsmen provide the money for people to get out of jail, guaranteeing their court appearances. If a person doesn't show up for court, the bondsmen have to pay the full bond or apprehend the person.
Time and money
Mr. Shapiro says Mr. Duncan takes clients even if the time it takes to post their bond isn't enough to justify the money he would earn.
The attorney noted that Mr. Duncan bailed out a woman arrested during a weekend in Prince George's County. Even though it meant working on his day off, Mr. Duncan helped her post the required $1,500 bond. He earned only $150, the typical 10 percent fee.
Mr. Duncan, who can post bonds up to $150,000, says he'll take a risk on some people, even those turned down by other bondsmen. He tries to judge their character, looking at such factors as their family ties.
So far, Mr. Duncan's decisions haven't been wrong. Despite scores of clients, he hasn't had any bail forfeitures. "I look at how I can help people," he says.
His helpful nature has made Mr. Duncan something of a courthouse institution.
"You grab yourself a Coke or an orange juice and you stand at the counter and you talk to Howard," Mr. Shapiro says.
Columbia attorney Clarke Ahlers notes that Mr. Duncan always asks about his girlfriend, whose 13-year-old son drowned in December 1991. Every Christmas, Mr. Ahlers says, Mr. Duncan asks him to give his love to the woman, whom he has never met.
Not easy to talk
Though he's a good listener, it's not always easy for Mr. Duncan to talk about his problems. His lawyer, Mr. Abramson, recalls it took Mr. Duncan more than a year to talk about going to court over his son's death.
"It wasn't because he wasn't thinking about it," Mr. Abramson says. "He just couldn't deal with it. He felt his son was robbed."
Mr. Duncan acknowledges his son's death changed his life. "It was deteriorating, yet it was very strengthening," he says. "It brings out the strength one has inside."