Our Turn: An ABA Banking Journal Roundtable

[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] Platinum Bank's website makes it clear from the get-go that the $134 million-assets company is something different. Very different. BANKING FOR INTERESTING PEOPLE AND COMPANIES, shouts a headline on the home page of the five-year-old based near Minneapolis, Minn. The message includes this: You're a do-it-yourselfer. But it's more like settling into a leather chair by the fireplace--or taking a long lunch at your favorite grill--to get down to business. And your banker is right there with you until the ice in your glass melts down, and you walk away feeling like somebody finally gets it. Very different--intentionally. David Rom, president and CEO, says he doesn't care for the phrase relationship banking. He prefers to think about client talking, banker listening. Money is the most personal thing to people, yet it gives them the most anxiety. You have to be technically good to understand their business. But if can provide some piece of trust to them, then price won't be a consideration. If you're looking for George Bailey, rebooted, look elsewhere. While Rom, 42, is minded, he won't call Platinum a bank. If you work for him, you'd better not either. I make our employees put a buck in a bucket every time they say 'community bank', he says. That's because it's a way of thinking that's geographically bound. To me, it comes across as small, slow, stupid .... Whoa there! ... So what does Rom let his people call it? They say, 'We're a bank', he answers, sharing his views with five other bankers in an ABA BJ roundtable discussion. Rom won't accept the limits he perceives in the traditional phrase. And he isn't alone. Avoiding limiting labels I started changing my lexicon a bit because 'community' was bothering me, too, says Trey Maust, 41, co-president, CEO, and board member, at $125 million-assets Lewis & Clark Bank, Oregon City, Ore. He prefers bank, but not for the reason you might think. To him it's about independent decision making. Maust's bank proclaims itself the home of the Bankerpreneur. On its website, Lewis & Clark says, are bankers who've started our own business, too. This gives us a unique perspective in how we partner with proprietors and assist local businesses of all sizes. This perspective affects the way Maust approaches his work. I don't want to think like a 'bank', he explains. In fact, there's a quote on our website to the effect that we run the bank as a business, not an institution. We want to think about what makes good business sense. While Rom and Maust dislike the implications of Josh Guttau, 35-year-old president and CFO of Treynor (Iowa) State Bank, worries about regulators. His family-owned bank has evolved beyond its traditional footprint. For example, while the core business lies around Treynor, a rural suburb of Neb., the bank has carved out specialties, such as a feedlot lending program that goes beyond state lines. Dave is right, 'community' tends to be geographic, he says. I'm waiting for the argument from examiners when they say, 'Well, you're lending outside your community,' because they look at the Community Reinvestment Act geographically. Guttau's point is, these days, what does community actually mean? Physical community? Industry community, such as feedlots and beef operators? I don't think there is one definition anymore. Those who think a community bank should stay at home don't get it, Guttau insists. We're in a town of 1,000 outside of Omaha, he says. Because Treynor State has developed nonlocal business lines, I'm funneling more money through our It's creating jobs. And it creates donations, because we give 10% of our profits to the community. To these three bankers and three more fellow members of ABA's Community Bankers Council, the bottom line is this isn't your father's banking anymore--it means much more. …