For more than a decade, Memphis Magazine has celebrated a group of CEOs every year, recognizing visionaries and executives who go above and beyond to elevate their companies and their community. And every year, we gather these leaders at a sponsored awards breakfast to honor them in front of their peers and the community.
The challenge is in deciding which of them should receive the honor. Memphis is bold, creative, and forward-thinking, so those who are selected by magazine staff members do more than lead a successful organization. We like to see leaders that value innovation, who pay particular attention to the welfare and treatment of employees, and who give back to the community. It is these efforts that make a difference, and these results that provide a reason to celebrate.
The 2025 CEOS of the Year are Boo Mitchell with Royal Studios, Brett Batterson with the Orpheum Theatre Group, Laurie Powell with Alliance Healthcare Services, Dr. Stewart Burgess with the Children's Museum of Memphis, and Ted Townsend with the Greater Memphis Chamber.
The awards breakfast is May 7th from 7:30 a.m. to 9:30 a.m. at Hardin Hall at Memphis Botanic Garden. Prices are $300 for a table of 10 or $30 per ticket. Tickets are at bit.ly/CEObreakfast25
The 2025 CEO of the Year is sponsored by eBiz Solutions.
photograph by jon w. sparks
Boo Mitchell
Royal Studios
It’s easy to see how much passion Boo Mitchell has for music, but it’s more than making it and listening to it. He’s also in the business end of it, always a risky pursuit when it comes to marketing and making a living in the arts. And he will tell you that the biggest challenge of all is staying relevant.
Royal Studios has been a recording mecca for a wide variety of musicians from around the globe. It’s one of the oldest perpetually operated recording studios in the world and has given birth to several million-sellers. Mitchell’s father, the legendary Willie Mitchell, took over its operation in 1970 and young Boo was involved in it from an early age. He started managing the studio around 2000 and got familiar with running a business.
And he’s managed to keep it relevant. “It’s easy to become stagnant when you’ve had any level of success,” he says. “It’s easy to just stay in your box. But I try to always constantly think outside of the box and take on every project with a fresh new approach, like being a kid in the candy store. I’m really a big kid like, oh man, we’ve got new toys to play with on the playground, so how can I just have fun and create a vibe? I think with music, the energy and the spirit of the people go into the music. I’m always trying new things and doing different collaborations, and people keep asking me to make their records.”
“My dad always told me, ‘Take care of your musicians, because they’re really the core of the success of any producer, any studio.’”
While everyone has always wanted essentially the same thing — to make a hit record — the music industry has changed in significant ways. “A lot of it is intellectual property,” Mitchell says. “Twenty years ago, we didn’t have Spotify, we didn’t have Pandora and Sound Exchange and all those things. A lot of new money is being created and realizing different streams of income that we didn’t have before, so you really have to stay on top of the business.”
Mitchell has been active in pushing for legislation, particularly the Music Modernization Act that was signed into law in 2018 and updated music copyright laws for the digital age, making it possible for songwriters and publishers to have a new income stream.
“I deal with a lot of legacy musicians,” he says, “like the Hi Rhythm Section, the guys that play on all Al Green’s records. So I have the OGs that I’m always working with, and trying to keep those guys working. Then I have the next generation of musicians coming in that I like to expose them to things and keep them working as well.”
That comes from lessons he learned long ago. “My dad always told me, ‘Take care of your musicians, because they’re really the core of the success of any producer, any studio.’”
And he’s still fighting the battles. While the Music Modernization Act was essential, there are still issues to be resolved. There is money being collected by countries around the world for radio play, but a loophole prevents American musicians from getting their share.
It’s all part of what an international business owner has to deal with, and Royal Studios, even with its mom-and-pop feel, is a global enterprise. “That family touch resonates with people,” Mitchell says, “and the international music fans really study Memphis. The International Blues Challenge brings us new business because they’re people from Australia and the UK. I have an ongoing relationship with a Korean blues guy that I’ve done three projects with, and he was in town at the IBC.”
Furthermore, Mitchell goes after the business, flying around the world to push his music. The “Take Me to the River” film series and other documentaries have been beneficial, and he does live shows with legacy artists that spread the gospel of Memphis.
It always comes back to the Bluff City. “Memphis is always the hero. The people, the spirit — they appreciate the authenticity and the realness and the people in Memphis. People tell you exactly what they think, but it’s not contrived. And even with the limitations of resources, it makes us work harder as Memphians because it’s like we’re always the underdog.”
That authenticity is crucial not just to Memphis music, but to how Mitchell, that kid in the candy store, operates. “We have our gut feelings and our instincts,” he says. “And really, just about every success I’ve ever had all started from a gut feeling and my execution of it.” — Jon W. Sparks
photograph by jon w. sparks
Brett Batterson
Orpheum Theatre Group
As a young boy in Davenport, Iowa, Brett Batterson liked to play Army. This meant gathering kids from the neighborhood, organizing platoons, and establishing ranks. “My uncle had been a staff sergeant in the Army,” explains Batterson, now in his tenth year as CEO of the Orpheum Theatre Group. “He had given me staff sergeant stripes, so I declared that in our club, the highest rank was staff sergeant. Which makes no sense. But kids were coming from three blocks away. It’s the first time I thought about leadership.”
Batterson’s parents were both puppeteers, so the performing arts are woven tightly through his DNA. He joined his first community theater at age 5 (and happily remembers his first play, The Bear Hug). As a college student at Augsburg University in Minnesota, Batterson recognized that he had the singing voice of a really good set designer, so he studied the latter, earning an MFA in the craft at Tulane. His professional rise included time in Chattanooga, and lengthy stints in both Detroit (as COO of the Michigan Opera Theatre) and Chicago (as executive director of the Auditorium Theatre). The seeds of leadership in that young “staff sergeant” grew steadily into the strengths that ultimately landed Batterson in Memphis.
“I’ve always led through personality,” says Batterson. “I’m very empathetic, a people-oriented person. I’ve been lucky that people have let me be a leader. In Chattanooga, I had volunteers willing to come in every night of the week and build sets with me. And I’ve worked with unions. The stage-hands union is notoriously difficult to work with, but they were also willing to do what I asked of them. It’s all about the respect I have for them. I’ve wanted to do what’s best for them, and what’s best for the organization. A lot of it’s listening, letting them make decisions. My goal is always to be fair.”
“I’ve always led through personality. I’m very empathetic, a people-oriented person. I’ve been lucky that people have let me be a leader.”
Batterson succeeded Pat Halloran — a Mid-South celebrity in his own right for more than three decades — when he assumed his current duties on New Year’s Day in 2016. “I had some idea [from my experience in Detroit, following the founder of the Michigan Opera Theatre] about how to work with a legend,” notes Batterson. “You don’t criticize him. You don’t try to pretend you’re smarter. You give credence to their knowledge and experience. It doesn’t mean you have to follow their advice, but you have to listen. I came from two large cities, and Memphis is really a large small town. Everybody knows each other.”
A leader’s survival instincts surface during an unforeseen challenge, and Batterson’s kicked in when Covid-19 shut the world down in March 2020. While many theaters across the country chained their doors shut, Batterson recalled the story of one in Chicago that converted itself into a bowling alley during World War II. He decided on a similar pivot: mini-golf. Properly masked patrons could play a timed game of mini-golf (nine holes, four rounds) on the Orpheum stage. Players who sank a putt under the iconic image of Cosette from Les Miserables may as well have been on the 18th green at Augusta.
“When the pandemic started, we were getting contradictory instructions,” reflects Batterson. “The goal posts moved every day. We had a supportive team of vice presidents, and I’m glad we were in Tennessee, which was less restrictive than some states.” The golf “show” ran for 17 weeks, and Batterson likes to emphasize it’s the longest-running production in Orpheum history.
The Orpheum family includes 47 full-time employees, 240 part-time, and a 34-member board of directors. Batterson manages a $20 million budget, one he has utilized for major renovations — including new seats — without closing the operation. “I have a very supportive board that has let me do a lot of fun stuff,” says Batterson. “I brought a camp that I started in Chicago — for young people who have experienced the death of a parent — to Memphis. The Mending Hearts Camp has been one of the joys of my life. [Batterson lost his own father when he was 7 years old.] Some of our community’s greatest leaders are on our board, and that’s been a joy to me.”
Batterson is one of only two Tony Award voters in the state of Tennessee. From the marionettes his parents brought to life to the biggest and brightest of Broadway hits, he appreciates a live performance. But when asked about his favorite show, he offers a temporal qualifier. “Hamilton is the most genre-changing musical of the last decade,” he says. “The decade before that, it was Rent or Miss Saigon. In the Eighties, it was Phantom of the Opera, which I still love. But I also love Rodgers and Hammerstein.” Just don’t ask him to sing along. — Frank Murtaugh
photograph courtesy laurie powell
Laurie Powell
Alliance Healthcare Services
When Laurie Powell started working for Alliance Healthcare Services in 1993, it was called the Southeast Mental Health Center. The Virginia native’s father was a scientist, and her family moved to Memphis in 1987. “I’ve always liked helping other people,” she says.
She attended the University of Memphis, earning a bachelor’s degree in sociology. “I thought I wanted to be a sociologist. I did research, statistics, all that,” she says. “Then I fell in love with mental health when I did an internship with a psychologist. So I went back and got a master’s in social work and a license in social work … I really like talking to people. I like helping people. So I was a therapist for the first 10 years.”
Her experiences as a therapist in South Memphis and Orange Mound revealed much need. “Memphis is a traumatized city,” she says. “Just look at the pockets of poverty and the trauma that the kids are experiencing. These kids become adults. If you haven’t addressed that trauma, you don’t know that there is hope, that you can have a career, that you don’t have to be stuck in that cycle of trauma and poverty.”
“What I liked in the management and administration piece is seeing the big picture, how all of these programs fit together. We have housing, we have crisis outpatient, and we’re trying to build a whole continuum where people can get the help they need in whatever program they need.”
Along the way, Powell met her husband, Michael Harrison. “He was a big advocate for what I was trying to do,” she says. He supported me when I became CEO. Lots of people don’t have that kind of support in their spouse. When we decided to have kids, he actually changed his whole career to make sure that Ethan and Nicholas were taken care of, and I could focus on my career. It amazes people when I tell them that story.”
After a decade in the trenches, she was promoted to clinical supervisor, then started grant writing. “What I liked in the management and administration piece is seeing the big picture, how all of these programs fit together. We have housing, we have crisis outpatient, and we’re trying to build a whole continuum where people can get the help they need in whatever program they need.”
One of Powell’s early victories was securing a grant to provide emergency mental healthcare to people who have recently experienced a psychotic break. “The research shows if you’re able to get someone in treatment within the first two years of their psychotic episode, and give them the evidence-based treatment, you can help them get employment, go to school.”
Many people in that situation who don’t get the help they need can end up homeless, or worse. Powell’s program established “an intensive team of ten people, including a psychiatrist, a therapist, and an employment specialist, who go out into the community,” she says. “They’re giving long-acting injectables for psychosis at hotels. They’re going to homeless shelters doing treatment on the spot.
“One of my passions has always been early intervention, so that the school-to-prison pipeline can be diverted,” Powell continues. Alliance has pioneered a program which places mental health liaisons in schools, a program which recently earned the support of Governor Bill Lee. “The goal is to have a therapist in every school to work with that school, work with families, and be a resource, so that the therapist comes to you,” she says. “You don’t have to come to the mental health facility. We do as much community based-work as we can do, and that’s what we’re trying to accomplish. We changed our name from Southeast Mental Health Center to Alliance because of the stigma involved with going into a facility called ‘mental health.’”
In 2018, Powell’s predecessor, Gene Lawrence, retired, and she applied for the position. “I’d done just about every job there is,” she says. “I remember on my strategic plan what I presented was, I want to build this crisis center for Memphis,” she says. “Too many people are incarcerated who have mental illness and not enough access to care.”
Now, six years later, that dream is a reality. The $35 million, 55,000-square-foot facility at 3200 Broad Avenue opened in March. “We’re calling it our ‘wellness campus,’” Powell says.
For Powell, the moment is bittersweet. In 2015, her husband was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. The first round of treatments were successful, but in early 2020, just before the pandemic hit, his cancer returned. Michael died in August 2020. “I was a widow at 53,” she says.
Powell, the expert in mental health, found herself following her own advice. “It’s helpful to talk to other females and support each other. There is life after a spouse’s death. In a way, I can look at it like this: I started working on this building right before he died. It’s been a labor of love for the five years since he died. He knew this was one of my biggest passions, that I’m going to do this, to see it from the beginning designs and then through the final construction. That did give me something to focus on during the grieving process. Freud would call that sublimation.”
She says the new facility represents Alliance’s commitment to bringing mental healthcare to the masses. “We changed the logo to highlight ‘all’ — it’s ALL of us. Alliance. That ALL is highlighted, because it’s going to take all of us, working together as a community.”
When the Alliance team learned that Powell had been awarded CEO of the Year, they surprised her with a banner and a party.
“Thirty-one years in mental health; I obviously didn’t do it to be wealthy, you know? I’m passionate about Memphis, and that’s why I’ve stayed here.” — Chris McCoy
photograph by jon w. sparks
Dr. Stewart Burgess
Children's Museum of Memphis
Every child has the right to fall in love with learning,” says Dr. Stewart Burgess, CEO of the Children’s Museum of Memphis since 2019. “Here, we hope kids can make discoveries and realize, this is something I might enjoy when I grow up.”
A native of Fresno, California, Burgess never planned to be a museum director. He was looking forward to a career in academia, first earning a degree in psychology from Fresno State University. That was followed by a master’s in experimental child development from San Diego State University, with an emphasis in problem solving (which would prove very useful years later), and a Ph.D. in child development from the University of California at Irvine.
But somewhere along that path, he realized, “I loved academia, but I wasn’t 100 percent sure I was in love with the ‘publish or perish’ world and the constant pressure to obtain grants for your research.”
There was another factor. He attended Fresno State under a swimming scholarship. At one of the meets, he encountered another swimmer, who would become his future wife, Ann. She was studying biomechanical engineering at Tulane University. When they married, he realized that teaching opportunities in his field were limited, so he’d go wherever his wife landed a job.
“I really wanted to get my hands on this museum. With my experience as a developmental psychologist, it was easy to see what had originally been designed brilliantly, but other things that could be done for the next iteration of the museum.”
That happened to be Memphis, where she once lived; her father, Dr. James Carter, was the longtime chair of the University of Memphis chemistry department. She was hired as vice president of biologics with Wright Medical, and Burgess became the early childhood director at St. George’s School. He worked there 18 years, and along the way joined the CMOM board. In 2019, when director Dick Hackett retired, “I threw my hat in the ring. I really wanted to get my hands on this museum. With my experience as a developmental psychologist, it was easy to see what had originally been designed brilliantly, but other things that could be done for the next iteration of the museum.”
The timing wasn’t “super- genius,” he says. Six months later, Covid shut the doors to the museum, along with so many places around the country. At CMOM, that presented a special challenge, since the museum receives no funding from local government. Seventy percent of their budget comes from admission costs and membership sales; the remaining 30 percent from fundraising.
Closing the museum provided a chance to revamp the facility, which had opened in 1990 in the former National Guard Armory erected in 1940. “I am very mission-driven,” he says. “Those times gave me the chance to create a space that provided excellence in playful learning. I looked at every exhibit we had, and asked myself: Is it excellent in quality, is it playful, and does it provide a learning experience?”
Many of the exhibits, such as the historic Dentzel carousel from Libertyland, were already popular, but Burgess figured out ways to “sneak learning in, while the kids were still having fun.” He also wanted to connect the museum’s identity with Memphis. For example, children enjoyed the Role Play Theater, a performance space where they could put on their own plays. Today, visitors can enjoy a miniature Orpheum theater inside CMOM, complete with glistening chandeliers and ornate carpeting.
He added The Great River, so children could play with a flowing model of the Mississippi, complete with illuminated landmarks such as The Pyramid and Sterick Building. They can divert river channels, launch barges, and operate power plants, to better understand the river’s importance to Memphis.
Another addition is the Art and Innovation Lab, which offers hands-on computer graphics, or work with actual paint and clay. Local artists, chosen because their work is approachable to children, give talks and show how they create their works.
A key part of the museum’s current success was Burgess’ aggressive methods for increasing funding. “I inherited $4.2 million in debt when I came aboard,” he says. “We attacked that by refinancing, restructuring our mortgage, and going after every Covid relief grant on the planet. We got everything we applied for, while working hard to reduce expenses, with everybody wearing different hats.”
In his role as CEO, Burgess is unique. Out of more than 600 children’s museums in the United States, he is the only director who has years of professional experience in early childhood education.
Sum up his attitude in one word, and it’s passionate. “Draw a circle around Memphis,” he says, “and we are the only children’s museum in a 200-mile radius. I think about this place every single day, and instead of draining me, it gives me energy to make it better.” — Michael Finger
photograph by wendy adams
Ted Townsend
Greater Memphis Chamber
Ted Townsend is a CEO among CEOs. As leader of the Greater Memphis Chamber, he works with and spends time with bosses around the region in a dynamic that aims at improving the region’s fortunes. He’s had meetings with hundreds of CEOs, telling them what the Chamber can do to make their businesses thrive.
“For me, it is a resource, a gaining of perspective,” he says. “And I would encourage any CEO to afford yourself the opportunity to meet with other peers, even if it’s in a different industry or organization, whether it’s nonprofit or for-profit, because there’s great opportunity for mentorship, there’s great opportunity for growth and perspectives, and in each of those interactions you have the availability to bring it back into your own.”
In his own role as a CEO, Townsend relishes the sense of community with other leaders — and there are 26,000-plus businesses in the region. “I can reach out to share scenarios and challenges and gain advice and counsel and then apply that here,” he says. “But it’s always an opportunity for me, especially meeting someone for the first time, where I can educate them on what the Chamber is. Some of those are legacy and traditional, but I close out every meeting with a CEO recognizing that they had no idea we do so much.”
“I don’t think I could have prepared myself for the embodiment of representing a team that we have here of individuals that are so dedicated to a Memphis that is not even in some people’s dreams.”
Townsend joined the Chamber as chief economic development officer in 2020 and was named president and CEO of the nonprofit in 2022, succeeding Beverly Robertson. “We had to face some really difficult decisions during the pandemic, which Beverly effortlessly led,” he says. “And then we had to figure out how to build back, and that’s what I’ve been focused on. When I came in, we had an operating budget, and I said, the work that we’re doing is as though it’s double that.”
He looked at comparable chambers around the country and saw they had larger budgets, but he felt the Memphis Chamber was having a greater impact. “I wanted to increase our ability to scale, to add capacity, to invest in our team and our resources and our space, and really see a major upgrade,” he says. “So, I set a goal of doubling that operating budget and doing so by the end of 2030, which coincided with our Prosper Memphis 2030 strategic plan.”
Townsend was determined to grow revenue, not just through membership, but exploring other avenues. “I’m proud to say that we have reached that goal ahead of 2030,” he says, “so now I’m setting new goals.” He is very much about establishing the mindset of winning, which has enabled the Chamber to eclipse original goals and set new ones.
The Chamber’s reliance on research, data, and being ready to go into action has paid off, whether the project has been simmering for a long time (facilitating the America’s River Crossing for a new bridge across the Mississippi), or developing rapidly (xAI’s fast-moving decision to locate in Memphis), or ongoing (the Digital Delta technology innovation project).
It’s been a dream job for Townsend, for whom this has been a destination role since college. “I knew that I wanted to work at the Chamber because of the business exposure that I would get,” he says, “so even as a college student, that was something that I aspired to.” It wasn’t a straight line — he’s been an entrepreneur and owner of a startup as well as working in the public sector with the state — but that experience led to this eventual, and inevitable, position.
And while he’s developed the kind of sound leadership that gets an organization to that high degree of effectiveness, Townsend admits to some surprises. “I don’t think I could have prepared myself for the embodiment of representing a team that we have here of individuals that are so dedicated to a Memphis that is not even in some people’s dreams,” he says.
But that happens when the groundwork is laid. “It’s where we get to be the practitioners and the behind-the-scenes conduits and actors of change, where we can make the Memphis Dream become a reality from an economic development perspective,” Townsend says. “I get to see that devotion and dedication each and every day from each and every team member. That is incredibly inspiring. And there’s a great responsibility with that to curate it, to support it, to keep them energized, despite the myriad challenges we face. But I was never prepared for that devotion that is exhibited exuberantly every day from every team member. It really lifts me.” — Jon W. Sparks
