A Mentor Moment: Pay It Forward

Contemplating the passing of Anita Roddick and how she used her power for the good of the planet brought to mind a post I wrote recently for American Small Business.  So many women talk about the importance of having female mentors; I don't know if my situation is unusual, but my strongest mentors have been men.  Here's the story I shared on ASB:

“I was wondering if I might ask you for a letter of recommendation to take with me.” I sat fidgeting in the chair, and my eyes dropped to the floor. Nerves were winning out over chutzpah.

“No, you may not,” was the reply.  I was stunned.

It was 1987, my last day as Housing Director for the Aspen Music Festival, and I had worked my derriere off for 5 months, dealing with record-setting housing requests, city council meetings and opening a defunct Red Roof Inn just to squeeze everyone in. I was determined not to leave the job in the disarray I’d found it, and had even created an operations manual for the next director. I’d done it all under the patient and wise guidance of William Vickery, the assistant dean at the school.  Now, I thought, Bill was turning against me.  I was dumbstruck.

“Look at me,” Bill said. I looked up. “I will never give you a letter to take with you, because in my estimation, it’s worthless. If, however, you are in need of a specific recommendation for a specific position, I will gladly write one. All you need to do is ask. You need to highlight specific gifts for specific jobs, and I’ll help you do that.”

Bill was good to his word. I can count the times I needed his help on one hand, but each letter was written with such esteem, I could have gained early entry at the pearly gates.

Bill taught me that it’s a waste of energy to go around throwing out generalizations for people. He wizened me to seek individuals out who really wanted to make a difference, and help those like he helped me.

He showed everyone that he wasn’t interested in glory, only lasting change. People gasped out loud when he left as Director for the National Endowment for the Arts to become Executive Director of the Arkansas Symphony (what - no ego?). But in a few short years, he’d tripled the budget of an orchestra during a time other symphonies were going bankrupt, and he touched the hearts of many children with the magic of music.

No matter where I was, if I found out Bill was going to be in town, I’d drop him a line. Numerous times, when he’d had a chance to dine with Itzhak Perlman or the CEO of Lincoln Center, he’d chosen to hang out with me. He was genuinely interested in what I was doing, and offered wisdom I carry with me to this very day.

I was thinking about Bill this weekend, realizing that  I hadn’t heard from him in about a year. I went online to track him down and found I was a little late. William Vickery, Jr., former assistant dean to the Aspen Music Festival, director of the National Endowment of the Arts, CEO of the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra, and Director of the Arkansas Symphony, died in October 2006 of heart failure. He was 57 years old.

I am terribly sad that Bill is gone, sad for all those who knew him and sad for all who didn’t. But I’m happy that whenever I got the chance, I told Bill how grateful I was, and never ended a conversation or letter without saying, “Thank you.”

Now, my thank you’s will come in the form of helping others.  Pay it forward.

Mentors and teachers change the very shape of our lives.  Have you expressed your gratitude lately?

Comments

[David Wolfe]

Michele,

I'm so sorry you learned about your friend and mentor a year after his passing. We had a similar experience last year. My wife's stepson was a cellist for the Boston Pops which came to Northern Virginia (where we live) in August each year. We established a custom a decade or so ago to have dinner with David while he was here.

Last year his phone call never came. We noticed, but we were very busy with travel and other diversions. In October, Wife emailed David. It got bounced back. She tried him on his cell phone. "No longer in service." Then she Googled "David Finch," expecting the worst. Indeed, Google took her to an obituary. He had died one month before the annual musical visit to our neighborhood.

So, I understand the shock you felt in a similar experience.