Like a lot of us old Austin boys, Mike Reynolds likes being

Like a lot of us old Austin boys, Mike Reynolds likes
being downtown.
So it’s only appropriate that we met for lunch
at a restaurant on Congress Avenue recently to share
some memories.
We agreed that we both missed riding the bus
downtown to see a movie at the State or the
Paramount. For a kid in the fifties or early sixties,
that was a big deal.
“Then there are the sacrifices of not being able to ride your bike to school
anymore (or hop the freight train home from detention hall at O. Henry). Those were the
halcyon days of youth,” Mike said.
Mike reminisced about how when he was 25 and part of the ownership of
Reynolds-Penland, he’d
recognize and greet just about
everyone who came through the
door of their flagship store at
8th and Congress.
“We knew all the
bankers, lawyers, and the other
merchants on the street—it was
our little corner of the universe.
I miss being on that sales floor
and sometimes I wish I was
back there from 9 to 5:30.”
But Mike likes the
Austin of today, too.
“The energy that exists
here is invigorating to me. It
may just be the things that I try
to stay involved in, but I think
Austin has always been a city
with a young heart (and lungs).”
“No matter what your age, if you want to be involved, there are tremendous
opportunities. I think that some of the small retail that has sprung up is really innovative.”
He added that there are real estate deals as big or as small as you want deal with
and arts are flourishing. “You just have to step up -- there’s a saddle for every seat.”
Stepping up is something Mike has done—in spades.
He freely admits that he has been blessed, as he says, “way beyond reason.”
Just a note, for those of you who don’t know, Mike’s mother was Alice Kleberg
Reynolds. And if you live in Texas and don’t know what the Kleberg name means,
please, do some Googling and get back to me.
I couldn’t miss the chance to say something about Mike’s parents. Mike says that
his dad Dick was his inspiration for so many aspects of life.
“He taught me how to hunt and fish and he opened the Reynolds-Penland men’s
store here in town. (Mike grandfather started the chain in Dallas.) He’s 89 now and he
thinks he’s 50. He and I are still really close.”
Mike’s mother ran Laguna Gloria and then after the divorce in 1972, she moved
to San Antonio where she ran the Witte Museum and then the San Antonio Museum of
Art.
“She always wanted
to be an actress,” Mike says.
“One time, she actually
played the part of Dolly Levi
in ‘Hello Dolly.’ Her
appreciation for the arts is
something she passed on to
all of us.”
Inspired by his mom,
at times Mike got to play a
part or two along with some
of his friends in the Follies at
the Paramount.
Mike has done a lot
for himself, forging his own
career in the business world.
He is now an owner
of Keepers, one of Austin’s
finest and most style-forward menswear shops and General Partner in Kenichi, a highend, top-reviewed sushi restaurant in the heart of downtown.
(By the way, Mike says that Kenichi’s Akaushi HeartBrand Beef steaks beat
anyone else’s in town. I told him that Linda and I would have to be the judge of that!)
No doubt, he’s seen a lot of success in the business world; including helping to
drive Reynolds-Penland into being a nine-store, $11,000,000 statewide empire before the
1989 bust hit.
“Working to restructure and rebuild RP back to a viable and profitable business
was really one of my proudest achievements. “ Mike says.
But after righting the ship, he bowed to the family’s desire to sell it out.
He also is a shareholder in The King Ranch.
In that regard, he says, “I have worked some with The Running W Saddle Shop in
the past on sales training and some merchandising.”
But like many people who have been fortunate in life, he has been a serial
entrepreneur in the non-profit world.
One of his major achievements in this arena happened when he ran into his friend
Duane Cooper at a car wash about four years ago.
While they were chatting, Duane told Mike about a group his wife Meredith had
started called Wonders & Worries.
“It was a very young organization which counsels kids whose parents have a
severely life threatening disease. Their services are free and as far as I know, it’s still the
only group of this kind in the country.”
That struck a nerve
with Mike, because when
he and his two sisters were
grown, their mother called
them together and told
them that she had multiple
myeloma—a deadly blood
cancer.
They were
educated, worldly kids
who had never heard of
this disease.
“We began to
research possible cures
and medicines that would
save her. It was a
relatively unknown cancer
at the time. All the doctors
could tell us was that it
was just a matter of time
until the disease would
prove fatal.”
“The fear, frustration and helplessness I felt as my Mom slowly died . . . frankly,
I’m not sure I ever got over it.”
So Mike went on the board of Wonders & Worries to help it grow. And in true
Mike Reynolds fashion, he had a big idea that caught on in a hurry.
Mike hates golf tournaments, so he came up with a unique fundraising format (he
says the details are a proprietary secret) – a sporting clay shoot called The Beretta “No
Worries Classic.”
“I got friends at Beretta USA to lend their name and product. Our family
foundation, which my sisters and I formed when mom passed away, underwrites the
expenses so all the money goes to Wonders & Worries. We projected the first year’s
tourney (four years ago) to raise about $30,000, though I said we'd do $70,000.”
When the last shot had been fired, they had generated $237,000.
That made it the largest charity sporting clay shoot in the country.
“Last year we netted over $400,000! It was raised by 20 teams of men, women
and kids, shooting to raise money for a bunch of people they don’t know.
“And if you heard the stories from these kids who benefit from our help and have
seen photos of the families, it gets you fired up!”
Mike says that in the last four years, they've raised over $1,000,000. It is still the
largest charity sporting clay event in the country.
“Now I want to do a national shoot, soliciting teams from all over, and raise a
million dollars in one tournament – and who knows where it can go from there?”
Obviously, Mike loves experiences that let him be outside and challenge his
abilities.
On that score, last year, he accepted an invitation from a friend to compete in the
JEEP Maximum Warrior contest, a web “reality series.”
He laughs and says, “It was an opportunity to get to spend a week with ten active
duty Special Forces troops and ten ‘normal Joes’ in what I thought was to be a laid back
shooting deal! Not!”
The first thing they saw as they rolled into the site was a SEAL Obstacle Course.
“This is a fun story and I'm proud to say that my Special Forces partner and I won
the combat pistol segment—but I’m embarrassed that we came in last in the obstacle
course. At 57, it is always exciting to get to ‘do something for the first time’ again.”
“In my defense, I was fourteen years older than anyone else in the competition!”
That brings us to his latest idea, inspired by his experiences that day.
“I have a dream to donate a closed obstacle course to the city. I have a perfect
Town Lake trail location in mind. Now, I need to find some help with the City to make it
happen!”
Access would be obtained by buying time cards which would count as charitable
donations. There would be weekly competitions and all funds raised would go to charities
that support veterans.
“Maybe we could roll the recipient every two years or whatever. I'd like to do the
first one here and then all over the country,” Mike says.
I could go on with a lot more about Mike, but I couldn’t finish this story without
mentioning his wife DK and his son, Kley.
DK and Mike first ran into each other when she was working in an office that
Mike’s roommate, oil and gas attorney John Cardwell, shared.
“We were both over thirty when we got acquainted – and we dated for seven
years before we tied the knot.”
Mike says that one of
his regrets is that he didn’t get
married sooner. But one
advantage of being an older
parent is that he got to spend
more time with his son
Kley—who attended Culver
Military Academy, just like
his pop. Kley is now a Delt at
University of Texas.
No doubt, he says that
his absolute biggest joy in life
is his family.
“Nobody could have
had as much fun as I have.”