The Commencement Address

Lawrence M. Small
Smithsonian Institution Secretary

"The Importance of Passion"

President Durden, Provost Weissman, Chairman Curley and all the members of the Board of Trustees, distinguished faculty, students…thank you for inviting me here today.

To my dear friends for more than forty years, David Paley and Stuart Rosen, both Dickinson graduates and members of the Board of Trustees, I give special thanks. Dickinson is not new to my vocabulary since I have been hearing about it from them for close to four-and-a-half decades.

To all special guests and other honorary degree recipients, welcome. It's a pleasure to share this day with you.

And, to all the graduates, my congratulations on a job very well done. Today is the day you can rest on your laurels. You deserve the rest.

Finally, to all the parents and grandparents, congratulations also. A parent's work is never done but, as I know from personal experience with my own two children, this is a huge step, perhaps second only to packing the car for the trip home.

I'm delighted to be here at Dickinson College, founded in 1773, and the first college chartered in our new nation…in 1783. And it's a particular pleasure given the linked histories of Dickinson and the Smithsonian Institution, which go back more than a century-and-a-half.

Personally, I'm humbled and grateful for the honor bestowed upon me today. In that respect, it's a privilege to follow in the footsteps of the seventh Secretary of the Smithsonian (I'm the eleventh), Leonard Carmichael, who received an honorary degree here in 1955.

The ties that bind our institutions go back to the son of Benjamin Rush, Dickinson's founder. Benjamin Rush, a founding father of this nation, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, was passionate about education and a man with an expansive vision. He wanted to found a school…not a grammar school…but a college…and he made it happen. It wasn't easy and from the outset, money was a challenge. In fact, Rush once urged a friend "Get money," he said. "Get money. Get it honorably, if you can, but get money for the College."

The Smithsonian had a similar challenge at its founding. And it was Benjamin Rush's son, the accomplished lawyer, statesman, and diplomat, Richard Rush, who was sent by President Andrew Jackson to London in 1836 to "get the money" for the Smithsonian. More about that later.

Our two institutions also share the involvement of Spencer Fullerton Baird, the famous naturalist, a graduate of Dickinson in 1840, a faculty member here from 1846 to 1850, recipient of one of the first Smithsonian research grants, the founder of the U.S. Commission of Fish and Fisheries, and the second secretary of the Smithsonian from 1878 to 1887. Without Baird, there wouldn't be a Smithsonian as we know it today.

It's no exaggeration to say that Baird changed the course of Smithsonian history. Literally and figuratively, he opened up new worlds for the Smithsonian. And he changed the shape of the U.S., literally. His Congressional testimony in the 1860s regarding Alaska's riches, paved the way for the purchase of Alaska by the United States from Russia. When he left Dickinson in 1850 to take the job as assistant secretary at the Smithsonian, Baird filled TWO RAILROAD BOXCARS with his many natural history specimens…many of which are still at the Smithsonian to this day…and are still in use! Baird never caught "Potomac fever," that dreaded Washington disease that inflates the ego out of all proportion. Ever the objective naturalist, he once described himself, as "a rather lanky, angular specimen of humanity, with red beard, rough hair, crooked legs and the biggest feet in Washington."

The stories of the founders of Dickinson and the Smithsonian illustrate one of life's great lessons: Don't spend much time trying to figure out what or where you want to be 15 or 20 years from now. Trust your instincts as to what feels right for you, allow yourself to be moved by passionate interests, and be willing to accept the fact that life is full of many unpredictable twists and turns that often lead to new, exciting, and totally unexpected experiences.

Consider Dickinson's founder, Benjamin Rush, the famous 18th century Philadelphia doctor and educator, who taught 3,000 students during his tenure at the College of Philadelphia; authored the first American textbook on chemistry and the first treatise on psychiatry; and courageously refused to flee Philadelphia during the yellow fever plagues of the 1790s. He was an accomplished, successful doctor practicing the healing arts. Then he answered the call to revolution, became a signer of the Declaration of Independence and, with his close friend George Washington, helped to found our country. And then…to fund it. In 1797, President John Adams appointed him treasurer of the U.S. Mint, an office he held until his death in 1813. Doctor, teacher, revolutionary, Treasurer of the Mint…and a founder of a great college. No one could have ever charted such a course in the early phases of Rush's life. Clearly, he was a man driven by passionate ideas and willing to act on them, but he was also open to adjusting to the changing times that were swirling about him.

The story of the founder of the Smithsonian Institution, James Smithson, is analogous in that it underscores the importance of allowing oneself to be driven by passionate interests and to accept that life is unpredictable.

It was a bold decision that gave birth to the Smithsonian Institution. It was established in 1846, more than three quarters of a century after Dickinson was founded, thanks to an odd private bequest to the United States from English scientist James Smithson…a man who never set foot on U.S. soil. When the bequest reached this country and was converted to American currency, it totaled $508,318.46, a great sum at the time and, obviously, if we expressed it in today's dollars, it would be a colossal amount.

The maker of the bequest, James Smithson, was the illegitimate son of the Duke of Northumberland, a man named Hugh Smithson, who ultimately was given the family name of his wife, Percy, through an Act of the English Parliament. Hugh Smithson had been an obscure Yorkshire baronet, but he took the name Percy because the wife he saw as the key to realizing his ambitions was not only extremely wealthy, but also because it was through her that he became Earl of Northumberland, and then the First Duke of Northumberland. He not only craved her lands, money, title and family name…he also coveted her fabulously wealthy, widowed cousin, a descendent of King Henry VII. He had an affair with the cousin, which may have been scandalous at the time, but one for which we're grateful today since it led to the birth of the Smithsonian's founder, James Smithson.

Now, James Smithson, although wealthy and a recognized scientist of the first order was, because of being born out of wedlock, subject to great stigma in 18th century British society. Certain careers and their accompanying social status were closed to him, such as the army, participation in the court and politics. So, he was frustrated and once wrote, "The best blood of England flows in my veins. On my father's side I am a Northumberland, on my mother's I am related to kings, but this avails me not."

Nonetheless, Smithson possessed a certain self-assuredness as far as his personal convictions about making a lasting contribution to human development. He once wrote, "My name shall live in the memory of man when the titles of the Northumberlands and the Percys are extinct and forgotten."

Smithson must have had great faith in America, great optimism about our prospects, although he never visited the United States, nor is there any record that he either met or corresponded with an American. Yet, many assume Smithson knew America was a far less structured and rigid society than the one in which he lived, much more of a meritocracy and much less concerned with bloodlines and family names. When he wrote his will, he left no specific instructions other than that he wanted his fortune to go to the United States "to found at Washington under the name Smithsonian Institution an establishment for the increase and diffusion of knowledge." At the time, 1826, it was just fifty years after the Declaration of Independence. Smithson died a few years after he wrote his will and was buried in the British cemetery in Genoa, Italy where he had been traveling.

On December 17, 1835, President Andrew Jackson reported the Smithson bequest to Congress. It became instantly clear that any number of Congressmen were not inclined to accept such a gift. Congressman William Preston of South Carolina wanted to refuse the money because he thought if Smithson's gift was accepted then, as he said, "every whippersnapper vagabond might think it proper to have his name distinguished in the same way."

But others spoke in favor of accepting the bequest, including Senator and Dickinson alumnus, James Buchanan of Pennsylvania, whose passion for politics would eventually take him to the White House.

Thankfully, former President John Quincy Adams, then a Congressman from Massachusetts, fought for the Smithsonian for more than a decade and, ultimately, prevailed.

Once Congress decided to accept the bequest, the first step was to secure the money from the English courts…no small task at that time. The man who was chosen for that delicate assignment was Richard Rush, one of the most respected diplomats and statesmen of his day and son of Dickinson's founder, Benjamin Rush. Rush set sail for England in August of 1836, and, upon landing, because such cases could take up to ten years to settle, sought the help of a law firm on London's Craven Street with the Dickensian name of Clarke, Fynmore & Fladgate. Rush was skilled and fortunate in his dealings. With some discreet pressure, the Smithson bequest jumped ahead of more than 800 other cases, and on May 9, 1838, the court awarded Smithson's fortune to the United States of America…all 92,635 pounds, 18 shillings and nine pence of it.

The estate was in the form of stocks and annuities referred to as "consols." Rush had to decide when to sell the consols and convert them to some medium that would have value in the United States. He chose to do so at the time of the coronation of 19-year-old Queen Victoria in June 1838. He sold everything at the top of the market and converted the funds into British gold sovereigns of almost pure gold…104,960 of them to be exact. He put them on the ship Mediator headed for New York. They were stuffed into 105 sacks, each holding 1,000 gold sovereigns (except one with 960). They were put into 11 boxes, 10 sacks to the box, each box weighing 187 pounds. The shipment included fourteen boxes and trunks with thousands of Smithson's natural history specimens and his personal effects. The boxes were simply addressed "To The United States."

The only snag was that in 1838 British gold sovereigns were not considered legal tender in the United States. So, all the sovereigns, except for two that the Smithsonian still possesses, had to be melted down at the Philadelphia mint and turned into American gold pieces. If you know any coin collectors and they have a ten dollar gold piece dated 1838, there is an exceedingly high probability it was made of Smithson's gold.

Finally, after eight years of debate in Congress about what exactly to do with the gift subsequent to its arrival in the U.S., President James K. Polk signed the Smithsonian Institution bill into law on August 10, 1846.

So it was twenty years after James Smithson wrote his will that the Institution was established. And in 1904, approximately three-quarters of a century after Smithson died, his bones were brought to America, a place Smithson had never been during his lifetime. And while James Smithson might have planned to end up buried in a British castle with the name Northumberland or Percy on it, because of his passion, because of his willingness to trust his own convictions and take a chance, and because of his admiration for a society where merit is more important than rigid class distinctions, his remains rest today in a castle with HIS name on it, the Smithsonian Castle, the first building built on the National Mall of the United States of America…a fitting end to the story of a man who bet on America, and that bet has certainly paid off in the form of the home of so many of America's treasures and so many of America's treasured stories, an institution which, with its 17 museums and 9 research centers, has grown to be the largest museum and research complex in the world and more importantly, an iconic institution that is beloved by the American people.

Neither James Smithson nor Benjamin Rush would ever have imagined when they started their professional lives that the ultimate outgrowths of their willingness to pursue their passionate interest would lead to the founding of institutions that today have not only outlived both of them but are, in Dickinson's case, 231 years old, and in the Smithsonian's, 158. Life is simply too unpredictable to see that far into the future.

I know that from my own experience. For reasons that still baffle me today, I was recruited by three schools to play ice hockey. I chose Brown University. I arrived at Brown, but in my first week there, before classes even started, I heard a recording of music that hit me like a lightning bolt…flamenco guitar playing by an artist named Carlos Montoya. At that moment, as you can only do when you're 18 years old, I decided I wanted to become the world's greatest flamenco guitarist!

And I hadn't even attended my first hockey practice yet! I became the first string goalie of the freshman hockey team, and I finished out the season during which we won about half our games. I was what you might call a "neutral factor." When hockey teams practice and they don't have a goalie handy, they simply put a piece of plywood in the goals with four holes at the corners. Essentially, I was about as effective as that piece of plywood.

At the end of the season, I went to the coach and said, "Coach Fullerton, I know plenty of people think coaching is all about winning games, but I recognize there's more to it than that. I know it's just as important for you to impart a sense of values to all of us on the team…sportsmanship, collaboration, hard work and such. Nevertheless, I know you still have to care a lot about winning and now that you've seen me play for a year, I think it's probably totally obvious to you that I'm no damn good. Let me leave the team to pursue my flamenco guitar dream. You still have plenty of time to groom another one of the goalies for the varsity."

Coach Fullerton looked at me very seriously and said, "You know, I'm really impressed that someone who isn't even 19 years old would recognize that a coach's role is greater than just winning games. On the other hand, what you said is quite true…you really are no damn good…so we have a deal!"

Off I went to Spain for my junior year. I took flamenco guitar lessons five days a week and practiced 8 hours each day. I made good progress but six months into the year, why I don't remember, I made a list of the top 10 flamenco guitarists in the world at that time…and I compared myself to them. I won't bore you with all the details, but I ended up asking myself, what is the probability that a kid from the Bronx, who had picked up the guitar for the first time at age 18, was going to be able to make a living in a field dominated by Spanish Gypsy musical geniuses, who all started as child prodigies? I concluded, in my great wisdom, probably not very high.

So, I had to let go of that dream, but the net of it is I fell in love with Spanish music and culture. I still play to this day. I still have a great passion for it. But something else happened to me when I went to Spain to pursue my dream. I learned to speak Spanish with great fluency and loved it, and I loved living abroad and immersing myself in a totally different culture.

In 1964, I discovered American banks were expanding aggressively into Latin American and even though I had never taken a course in accounting, economics, or finance, all I needed to do was demonstrate I was a competent Spanish speaker and a job as a management trainee in Santiago, Chile was mine. I jumped at the chance, and I joined Citibank 40 years ago for the princely sum of $6,136 a year, essentially with the idea that this new career was a great way to get a free ticket to go abroad again.

But, to my surprise, I discovered that it was not just being abroad that got me excited it was the chance to immerse myself in something new, something different and something that, had you asked me as a college junior I would have told you sounded extremely boring. That something for me was everything that we today call "management." I became passionate about "management" and everything that goes into helping organizations and their people decide what they want to achieve, create plans to do so and actually, get it done. While the organizations where I've worked have changed, my passion for working with teams of people to figure out how to achieve organizational goals has not.

Over the last three decades, I have been very fortunate to serve in the senior management of three extraordinary organizations. In my service at Citibank, I learned of my passion for management and was given the chance to act on it. My experiences, over almost 3 decades there ultimately led to an offer by Fannie Mae, home mortgage finance giant in Washington, DC, to become their president. That position gave me the opportunity to lead and engage some of Washington's and the country's best financial minds. After eight terrific years there, the Smithsonian offered me the honor of becoming its 11th Secretary. As they say, "The rest is history," and I can tell you, I couldn't be more passionate about what we're doing at the Smithsonian.

As was the case with the others I've mentioned today, when I graduated from college 41 years ago, I had no idea and could never have had an idea that my life might turn out as it has. In retrospect, though, what I believe was fortunate was that after I "decided" to become the world's greatest flamenco guitarist, I was passionate enough about it to give it a try and that, of course, is what led to the train of events that has brought me here today.

You can be sure that the figures from the histories of Dickinson College and the Smithsonian Institution that I've spoken of today, Benjamin and Richard Rush, Spencer Fullerton Baird, and James Buchanan had no idea that these great institutions would become what they have become and would come to represent fantastic legacies for our nation. And inherent in those legacies is an equally great one, and it is a reminder that the adventure of life is best lived by those who allow themselves to become passionate about what they do and trust their passion to carry them through the unpredictable future that always faces us. Fill your lives with passion. Be excited about what you do and be open to change. Sometimes the best experiences, as I've illustrated today, are those that are unexpected. I wish you all the best of luck, happiness and health. Once again, congratulations on this truly wonderful day.

Thank you.

Back to Commencement
Back to Home Page