Being Human: Case Study #3

My grandfather Rodgers Donaldson was the Chief Legal Counsel at Lockheed Aircraft when he retired in the 1970’s. By then, he had seen through the magic kaleidoscope, the colors changing from the Wright Brothers to landing on the moon. The innovation he witnessed first hand was spectacular, and in some small way he had a hand in it.

One of his favorite stories was this one: whenever he answered his phone, his secretary would tell him who was on the other end. But on this day, in the early 1940’s, it wasn’t his secretary he heard first. It was a man’s voice that boomed through the receiver.

“Rodgers,” the voice said, ‘This is Howard.”

“Howard? my grandfather asked. “Howard who?”

“Not ‘who,” the voice continued. “Hughes.”

It was true, it was Howard Hughes on the other end. Hughes Aircraft and Lockheed had been locked in negotiations over a deal, and Howard’s patience was running thin. “Can you meet me in 20 minutes?”

The two had never met, had never even spoken, but my grandfather saw his chance and 20 minutes later was sitting at Musso & Frank’s, perhaps Hollywood’s most illustrious watering hole. And right there next to him was Hughes, the two spinning together a deal worth millions of dollars over a yellow legal pad, my grandfather writing it all out in penciled longhand. No other lawyers, no other committees, no long back and forth. Just getting it done.

They both signed it on the spot, and Hughes delivered engines that were put on Lockheed planes that went overseas to ultimately help win WW2.

When I asked my grandfather what he thought of Howard Hughes, he simply said “Sharp.”

Towards the end of his life, my grandfather may not have remembered this story. It was hard to tell. Now in his later 80’s, he was caught in the growing fog of Parkinson’s and could no longer weave intricate stories or do his favorite crosswords. He was in assisted living, and I would come sit next to him and read the LA Times sports page (he was a big fan of Jim Murray). Occasionally he would moan what I hoped was an acknowledgment. But the silence and gaps grew and grew until shadows stood between us. He lay staring at the ceiling or he rolled over to look at the wall. It was sad to see him go this way.

The last day I saw him alive I was in a bit of a rush. I read the sports page to him but he didn’t respond much. That glint in his eye, his 6’3’’ frame, all had dulled and quieted. So I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the forehead, told him I’d be back in a few days, squeezed his hand.

Then I turned to go and made it to the door when I heard a sound. I turned back to his bed, and he sat up now, looking at me clear as day, his whole big glorious body upright and leaning towards me.

“Be good,” he said, the same strong voice I had heard for decades and decades. “Be good.”

Then he laid back down again.

Radical Optimism is about being the change you want to see in the world, but change by itself won’t get us there. Those last words my grandfather said to me before he slipped off again, those are the key. Those are the purpose.

Be good.