A New Assignment

Day’s end, and what a day it has been. Mom and Dad are in bed, and I’m back in my boyhood bedroom feeling time warped and badly torn between feelings of exhilaration and grief. I’ve got to somehow capture this incredible and tumultuous day.

Amtrak’s Acela Express pulled into Philly’s Thirtieth Street station at 12:05 p.m., five long hours after my Boston departure. Wanting to stretch my legs, I hiked the short thirteen blocks east along Market, crossing the majestic Schuylkill River—the Manayunk, as I insisted it be called in my boyhood Indian phase—to my first appointment of the day.

Dad had arranged for me to plunge right in with a lunch meeting at the famous Pyramid Club, high atop my hometown’s new, art deco skyline. When I walked in, I was stunned by the gaunt and pale face that greeted me, my dad’s wan smile masking nothing of the seriousness of his condition. He must have lost thirty pounds, and that from a frame that had been quite trim to begin with.

Dad saw that I noticed. Not giving me a chance to comment, he hooked my elbow and steered me to a circle of six men and women standing to the side. I saw the unspoken apologies on their faces—they already knew what Dad would put off telling me for another five hours.

Relocated to our table, my lunch mates introduced themselves. The first three were chief executive officers. One was the CEO of a premier biotech firm, the second had spent her career in financial services, and the third came out of the manufacturing industry. Next was the city’s former mayor, Dr. Will Turner, now devoted to the work of his inner-city church. Will said a few words about his passion for the city and for serving the most vulnerable members of the community.

Another member was an academic, Martin Goldschmidt. Martin was a sociologist whose research was aimed at understanding why some social sector initiatives succeeded and why others failed so miserably.

The final member was a transplanted Irishman named Alistair Reynolds. “Ali” was known to me already but by reputation only. He’d had a meteoric stint with my firm prior to my own tenure there. Ali described himself as a “social entrepreneur.” I had heard the term before but never actually met one. Social entrepreneurs, by definition, approach social sector needs with entrepreneurial and capital-generating strategies. He could have used his talents to continue making many millions for the firm and plenty for himself, but he had set that goal aside. Strange.

Dad also indicated that there were other members of the team not at the lunch. I wondered how such an interesting and diverse group wound up working together.

After the introductions, Ali stood up. “Mike, we’d like to tell you why we are here. Actually, we chose this spot because we want to show you. Dr. Turner,” he continued, “would you do the honors?”

So right there in the Pyramid Club, we all got up and followed Will to the windows looking south over Philadelphia. He turned to me and said, “Up here, you can practically see the whole city. When our team first started to meet, we’d come here for lunch, look out at the city, and talk about its challenges. Looking here to the south,” he continued, “you’ll see growing businesses, the airport, the seaport, and a network of diverse neighborhoods.” He went on to outline the team’s projects on the south side of town. “Follow me,” he said, speaking with a gracious authority. I followed.

As we walked, he expanded on his points. “As a team, we concluded that one of the most significant barriers to progress in all sectors of the city was the lack of effective leadership. We have been working for several years to accelerate the emergence of effective leaders around the city. We are now working in all sectors of the city: business, government, nonprofit, and community organizations.

“If you look out into the distance,” Will continued, “you can almost make out some of the homes, churches, and businesses in what we call the “Main Line.” There are exciting stories waiting there for you, Mike.”

On around the building we continued, with everyone getting a chance to talk. We spent the better part of an hour walking around the club, eventually coming back to our table.

During lunch, Dad didn’t eat. Frankly, I was torn between the exhilarating ideas I was hearing about and the grief that was welling up within me. There was nothing I could do about any of this. Ali had resumed the position of lead and just kept plowing forward with his narration.

“Let me shift focus from our projects to our team, Mike,” Ali said. “So, who are we? We call ourselves the ‘No-Name Team.’ ” Laughing at my puzzled expression, he continued. “It’s a little contrived, but we’re not the story, and we want to make that clear. The leaders who are out on the front line are the story. They’re the ones who make the difference, and we’re here to support them.

“We really think we have something quite remarkable going on here. You’ll see that there have been some amazing breakthroughs. Individuals, teams, and organizations have accomplished much more than any of us thought possible. We’ve seen for-profit companies accelerate past their peers, nonprofit organizations work much more effectively, and churches get their members off the pews and into high-impact work in the community. Even our friends in the government are improving.

“A new kind of leader is getting this done. That’s the bottom line.”

I noticed that one of our waitresses was standing off to the side, her ear cocked to hear Ali’s remarks, her head nodding in agreement. She’d been listening!

He continued. “We believe the key to success is what we call ‘the Serving Leader.’”

“So you’re basing your approach on the writings about servant leadership,” I said. “On Robert Greenleaf and others.” This growing body of work had been part of my team’s research.

“Well, yes and no,” Ali responded. “Yes, we’ve all read Greenleaf and with him Blanchard, Tichy, Collins, Block, Bennis, Gallup, Wheatley, Senge, Kotter, Drucker, and much of everything else that’s been written in the field.”

“I’ve read it all, too!” I interjected, wanting everyone to know I was pretty much up to speed. “Great stuff!”

“It’s all great, Mike!” He sounded irritated. “Greenleaf and the great thought leaders who have followed him pioneered such important thinking about leadership. They have helped transform our basic assumptions about what makes great leadership great.

“But I also have to tell you, no! We’re not basing our approach just on writings and books. Mike,” he continued, his voice softer now and more imploring, “we’ve learned so much on the ground here, from Serving Leaders who are in the trenches with their teams, businesses, and neighborhoods doing what everyone’s writing about. Our emphasis here is on what a leader actually does to support individuals, teams, and organizations. This is why we use the active word ‘serving.’ The theory of servant leadership is vital, but it’s the active Serving Leader who makes the critical difference.”

I glanced over at my dad and saw the greatest look of satisfaction I think I’ve ever seen on his face. Dad was pleased with Ali—and with what Ali was saying—and his face left no room for doubt. I could sure stand to see that expression pointing in my direction sometime.

Dad caught me looking at him and nodded his head once. “Ali’s gotten right to the point,” he said. “And here’s your first hint: the Serving Leader has a way of helping everyone else succeed. Almost before we’ve spotted a Serving Leader, we notice this symptom—people all around are flourishing.”

“So here’s your task in a nutshell, Mike,” Ali said. “Look at what we show you and then write the story. Put to work all that fine consulting expertise your dad is always bragging about.”

I glanced over at Dad again. He was cleaning his glasses. He didn’t glance back.

Ali was still talking. “We want you to make simple and practical sense of what the Serving Leader is doing that causes teams and companies and communities to flourish. Make it teachable, Mike. Make it learnable.”

I just blinked. How was I going to do that?

Seeing my dubious expression, Ali laughed. “We’re going to do this together,” he said encouragingly. “Why don’t we start by making a picture.”

He took his napkin, placed it on the table between us, and drew a pyramid. Then he spun the napkin, flipping the pyramid upside down.

“I think you’ll see that this Serving Leader approach takes almost all of our thinking on leadership and turns it right up on its head. At least since the pharaohs, we’ve thought of leadership as climbing to the top of the pyramid, right? I mean, here we sit at the top of the Pyramid Club, just like leaders are supposed to.”

I nodded, though I can’t say I was totally thrilled by what I was hearing. Being able to dine at the Pyramid Club is cool. Climbing is what my life’s been largely about, truth be told.

“Our findings point us in another direction,” Ali continued. “The Serving Leader is down here at the bottom of the picture. The team, the business, and even the entire community are up above. The Serving Leader is down here unleashing the strengths, talents, and passions of those he or she serves. It works this way for a team of two, a business with a thousand employees, or a community of several million. Quite a switch, huh?” Quite!

The Serving Leader is down here unleashing the strengths, talents, and passions of those he or she serves. It works this way for a team of two, a business with a thousand employees, or a community of several million.

Ali shoved the napkin over to me, and I just stared at it. A plain, upside-down pyramid hand-drawn on a simple paper napkin. This was my starting point. Candidly, I was expecting more, but conscious of all the eyes upon me, I reached out and retrieved my gift. Okay. It was a starting point. I gave it a good look, folded it up, and tucked it into my coat pocket.

Glancing up again, I saw Ali nod his satisfaction to my father. What he was satisfied with, I don’t know. That I had picked up his little picture and put it into my pocket? Very impressive!

I must confess that as I recount this day, I’m feeling overwhelmed. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me finish my first day’s account.

The rest of the lunch went by quickly. Each team member agreed to a schedule of time with me. My time with each of them was to be spent focusing on the person’s key projects. I was to learn both by observation and by rolling up my sleeves to work on some of the projects.

Clearly, the team members were excited about having me involved. I was more than a little nervous about all of this. I kept glancing over at my dad to see what was registering on his face. Ali had spoken of my father’s pride in me. I wanted to see his pride firsthand. Dad didn’t return my glances.

After lunch, Dad suggested I come with him. Much to my surprise, when the elevator doors opened to the lobby, there stood my boss, Charlie, like he was expecting us! “Hey, Mike! How’s it going?” Charlie said.

“Hey, Charlie,” I answered. I glanced over at my dad. There was no surprise on his face. I shook my head. Dad was up to more than met the eye, and I wasn’t enjoying it.

“I was in town and wanted to see how your old man is doing,” Charlie explained.

Plausible, but not satisfactory. Dad was maneuvering me. He wasn’t relating to me. He still hadn’t told me anything.

They moved ahead of me and talked quietly. It was strange to see my boss supporting my dad with his arm as we walked to the street.

In the cab, I steered the conversation to my task. “This Serving Leader thing would seem to be a stretch for real business applications,” I began. “It might work in social sector projects, but it’s hard to imagine us selling something like this to our clients.”

“Far from it, actually,” my boss said. “I really think we need something fresh. More to the point, I think you’re going to see approaches that deliver more than the old paradigms do. I want you to examine these Serving Leader approaches. Your father is quite excited about what’s going on, and he’s as tough a grader as there is.”

No argument from me on this score.

“My instinct tells me this thing could indeed be commercial. That’s one of the reasons you’re here, Mike.”

I was getting anxious. This was clearly not going to be the quick and simple proposition Charlie seemed to think. I was going to have to work my way through a jumbled smorgasbord of diverse projects—even diverse worlds. The worlds of the corporation, the nonprofit, the neighborhood, and the government.

And through it all, I was going to have to find simple, teachable principles that Charlie assumed would then sell new business like hotcakes. I wasn’t sure which challenge was the more daunting, connecting all of the scattered dots I was shown at lunch or reconnecting with my father. This was not going to be a quick little detour from my nicely arranged life.

Dad directed the cab to deliver Charlie to the airport and then to take us home. After Charlie left us, I asked Dad to tell me how he was doing. “Later” was all he’d say.

What else should I write? Mom and Dad and I had dinner at home, an old boyhood favorite from my mother’s Pennsylvania Dutch past—shepherd’s pie. And again, Dad barely nibbled at the edge of his serving.

I could weep, there’s so much hitting me, so many things coming at me all at once. I’ve lost so much, left so many things behind. Too many things.

And now I know the very worst of it. I had just pushed back my plate when Dad said it. A few spare, chosen words, and my world will never be the same.

“It’s pancreatic, Son,” he said simply, evenly. “Too far gone to treat.”

Just that. My dad will die this summer. I have to write it again, it’s so hard to grasp. My dad will die this summer.

So here I am, back in my boyhood room, trying to capture my day on paper. A noisy owl calls out in the dusk. No other sounds. Okay, Mike, start with what you have—a napkin, a picture, some words, a very heavy heart.

Assignment notes:

• Learn what Serving Leaders do and how their approach works.

• Use the upside-down pyramid to structure what I learn.

• Be with my dad while he dies.

I don’t know if I can do this!