The following address was given by Interim Dean Jamal Rossi during the School’s annual Convocation on September 7, 2006 in Kilbourn Hall.
In getting ready for today’s talk, I noted that Eastman’s web site indicated that I would be “addressing an issue that is at the heart of an Eastman education.” Wow—this is a daunting task. In an attempt to meet this challenge, I’ve decided to tell you about something, or perhaps I should say someone, who is important to me-my dad.
The first thing that I want you to know about my dad is that he is simply a great guy. When I think of what he has faced and accomplished in his life, I am in complete awe of this man. My dad turned 84 years old about two weeks ago, and I’m so thankful that he is still in excellent health. When he was in his prime, he was what we might call “height impaired,” but he was all muscle. Some would say that he was “built like a fire hydrant.”
My dad was the youngest of seven siblings. His older brothers and sister were born in Italy, but Dad was born in the United States. Essentially my dad and his family were first-generation immigrants to this country. My dad grew up outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, in an area that was referred to “Hunky Town.” This was where many immigrants lived — Hungarians, Polish, Italians, Germans. Talk about diversity! This was a true melting pot.
Dad attended high school during the Depression, and he is one of only two of his siblings to graduate from high school. His brothers and sister dropped out of high school so that they could support their family during that time. During high school, and immediately after graduation, Dad served as an auto mechanic in a local garage. He tells about how he and his brothers would place their weekly pay in a bowl on the dining room table. My grandfather would pay the family bills, and then distribute whatever was left to Dad and his brothers. That’s how my Dad’s family made it through the Depression.
After the Depression, my dad was drafted into World War II. My grandfather went to the Draft Board and asked for a deferment, because four of my uncles were already serving in the military. He was successful in getting a six-month deferment, but ultimately Dad served in the United States Air Corps. When Dad returned from the War, he did what most young men in Pittsburgh did: he went to work for U.S. Steel. And that is where he spent his entire career.
In the last part of his career, Dad served as a Roller in a steel mill outside of Philadelphia. He headed a crew of 15-20 men to roll the steel into the proper thickness required by a client, whether it was to be used for an automobile body, a refrigerator, or whatever was required.
As I was growing up, I was always amazed at the pride my dad took in his work. When my mother would ask, “How was your day?” Dad would reply, “We had good production today; there were no breakdowns; the steel had a really nice quality to it — there were no blemishes in it.” And I thought to myself, “Who cared if the steel had blemishes?” Really, when was the last time you examined the quality of a piece of steel? But my dad cared, because it was a reflection of his work.
The truth of the matter is, my father was not a highly educated person — but he is a very intelligent man. Some people might call it “street smarts”; my father called it “Italian ingenuity.” My dad could analyze and understand situations, he could figure out anything mechanical, and he understood people.
Like many dads, mine had a saying for every situation. When I was growing up, it seemed like we could have whole conversations whereby Dad would answer everything with a saying. For instance, imagine my sister and me arguing in the kitchen, saying, “It’s not my fault. It’s your fault.” “No it’s not, you did it.” My father would walk into the kitchen and say something like, “You know, even a fish wouldn’t get caught if he kept its mouth closed. What happened?”
Jamal: “I’m sorry, we had an accident; we broke your coffee mug.”
Dad: “Accidents don’t happen; they’re caused.”
Jamal: “Well, it wouldn’t have happened if my sister hadn’t been bothering me.”
Dad: “If, if, if — if a frog had wings, he wouldn’t bump his bottom every time he jumped.”
It could go on like this seemingly forever. Even today, when I call home and ask “Hi, Dad. What’s new?” Dad responds, “Same as ever, changes never.” It will never change.
So why am I telling you all this? Because there was one saying I grew up with throughout my childhood, which I believe represented the credo of my father’s life. Dad would say, “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well.”
If it is worth doing, it is worth doing well. No matter what the task, my Dad never settled for anything less than his very best — whether it was rolling steel, mixing concrete, or making pasta, Dad took great pride in all that he did.
I remember one time Dad was expanding the size of our back patio. One of our neighbors came over after dinner and started giving my dad a hard time because dad dug footers that must have been four feet deep. My neighbor would say, “Doc, what the heck are you doing? This isn’t a bomb shelter. It’s not Fort Knox. It’s just a patio.” My dad replied, “Well, as my pappy always said,’If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well.'” Today, forty years later, that patio still looks pretty good.
So, according to our web site, I’m supposed to be talking to you about something “that is at the heart of an Eastman education.” And this is it: if it is worth doing, it is worth doing well. If what we are doing here at Eastman is worth doing, it is worth doing to the very best of our abilities. Whether it is teaching, or learning, or practicing, or performing, or conducting research, or writing papers, or giving speeches, or maintaining our facilities, it doesn’t really matter. If we believe there is value in what we do, if we are going to engage in an activity, if we are going to pursue a profession, it is worth doing it to the very best of our ability.
I want to look at this from two perspectives: as a student, and as a career choice.
One of the things for which I will be forever grateful is my father’s support in sending me to college. Just as my father was one of the first in our family to graduate from high school, I was one of only a few of my20 cousins to attend college. Now remember, Dad was a steel worker. His brothers were steel workers. Most of his friends were steel workers. I try to imagine what it must have been like when my father told his brothers that he was going to spend money, a lot of money, to send me to private college to study saxophone. You know, I don’t think my uncles ever got their brains around this. Studying to be an engineer, a doctor, a lawyer—this they could understand. But studying saxophone? My father told me in high school and in college, “Do what you love and do it well.” I believe that Dad gave me the gift of allowing me to pursue my dreams. As have all of our parents.
At last week’s orientation, I told the freshmen, “thank your parents, and thank them often.” I mean it. Our parents have given us the opportunity to become the most outstanding musicians that we could in order for us to pursue dreams. Given that opportunity, is there any reason to do anything less than our absolute best work? And I mean our best work in everything. Not just in the studio, not just with your instrument, but also in the classroom when you are studying music history, or mastering aural skills, or taking leadership courses, or studying language, or in the way you interact with your colleagues and peers. Given the opportunities presented to all of us, I can’t think of any reason why we would put forth anything less than our best efforts. As my Dad would say, “Good enough is never good enough.”
The other perspective is this. I was once asked to give a talk on “training musicians for the challenges of the 21 st century.” None of u
s know the challenges we will face ten, twenty, or forty years from now. As educators, we help students to obtain skills that they will build over the course of a career. We can encourage you to become creative thinkers. We can inspire you to become lifelong learners. But the truth of the matter is this: there have always been challenges to being a professional musician and there always will.
No matter what skill set you bring into the profession, there is simply no substitute for excellence. This is true whether you are a performer, scholar, teacher, conductor, or composer. It is also true in the way you interact with people. These are things upon which you will be assessed when you seek employment. And these are the foundations upon which you will be an effective change agent to those around you, and to the music profession as a whole.
I said earlier that my father took great pride in everything that he did, and I encouraged you to do your best work in everything, not simply those things that you deem important. Because, here is the thing: excellence, like everything else of value, takes practice. It is hard work. You have to get into the habit of demanding excellence from yourself, expecting excellence from yourself, and simply not accepting anything less.
The ancient Greek philosopher, Aristotle, wrote, “Excellence is an art won by training and habituation. We do not act rightly because we have virtue or excellence, but rather we have those because we have acted rightly. We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit.”
Former Secretary of State Colin Powell said, “If you are going to achieve excellence in big things, you develop the habit in little matters. Excellence is not an exception, it is a prevailing attitude.”
My father would say, “Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.”
A wise teacher once told me that nobody can be the best, best, best at everything. I agree with that completely. But being the best is a much different thing than doing your best in all of your endeavors.
My friends, Eastman is a leading school of music in the world not because of our geographic location, or because of our easy access to major symphonies and opera companies, or because of our balmy weather. Eastman is a world-class leader because of the excellence of our faculty, because of the quality of the education we offer, and perhaps most important, by the impact that our alumni have throughout the world.
Friends, I encourage you to demand, expect, and accept nothing less than excellence from yourselves. If you do, you will raise the bar of all that happens here at Eastman. And you will enter the music profession ready to make a meaningful contribution in all that you do. Please remember the words of my Dad: “If it is worth doing, it is worth doing well.”