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Memorial for John W. Gardner We’ve
heard some wonderful tributes to John. I just have to say that when
I first met John Gardner, I was not the least bit impressed. I was
probably all of five years old at the time, and here comes this
family: father, mother, pretty boring. But they had these two daughters,
with exotic names—Stephanie and Francesca—who were just
enough older than my sisters and me to be really impressive.
The best part about these girls was that they treated us kids as
though we were real human beings, as though we counted for something!
Of course, looking back now, I realize that Stephanie and Checka
were growing up in a family where John and Aida treated everyone
they met—great and small—with caring and respect, but
it was pretty special to see this kind of behavior in children. By the time I returned to Carnegie for the long haul, John had gone to Washington to build the Great Society. But I was heir to his legacy at Carnegie, and I was one of the countless young people, including, I suspect, many of you in this room today—none of us as young as we used to be—whom he continued to follow, to encourage, and to counsel. Over the next 37 years, John not only helped me over career hurdles, but he always encouraged me to see myself on a broader stage and showed me by his example the extraordinary breadth of action we’re all capable of. He could challenge without scolding and inspire without leaving you paralyzed in admiration. When I finally left Carnegie in 1987, it was to join the Foundation Center. This was the first in that long list of organizations that owe their existence to John Gardner. Yes, he was responsible for the Center’s establishment in 1956. Both my family and the Gardners have very serious California roots. During those East Coast years, my mother and Checka and her girls provided the home base for us on the West Coast, and I didn’t see much of the other Gardners. When John and Aida moved back to Stanford, soon the whole Gardner clan was assembled in the Bay Area, and I reconnected with them, spending more and more time on that coast, as my own two daughters pursued their education there. That final chapter in my long friendship with John allowed me another chance to see him as a father—and grandfather and even great grandfather—and, this time, I was impressed. He was the same man within his family—wise and caring, demanding yet patient—that he was in public. His life was all of a piece, and the support of his loving family allowed him put tremendous time and energy into the public sphere without conflict or compromise, to the great benefit of the rest of us. In
these past few weeks, I’ve wondered how Aida and Stephanie
and Francesca and Billy and Justine and Gardner and Jennifer can
go on without John at their center. But then, I’ve wondered,
too, how the rest of us can move forward, as our world seems to
become more confusing by the hour. Then I consider that perhaps
the most precious gift John gave us all was confidence in our own
power, as individuals and as citizens. And I believe that at the
end of his extraordinary life of service to others, he was absolutely
certain that we all will push on without him. In doing so,
we will be paying the greatest tribute to John’s life.
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