Honoring and Remembering Edwin S. Munger

A tribute to former ICWA Fellow and Honorary Trustee Edwin “Ned” Munger delivered by Executive Director Steve Butler at the memorial service for Ned on June 24th, Pasadena, California.

It’s an honor to be here, to talk about this man whose infectious enthusiasm and energy played such an important part in the evolution of my Institute for the past 60 years.

The usual thing these days when preparing this sort of talk is to do a Google search, but I had something much better: about a thousand pages of original correspondence files dating back to the start of Ned’s fellowship with the Institute of Current World Affairs.

Our Institute was founded in 1925 with funding provided by the philanthropist and internationalist Charles R. Crane, partial heir to the Crane Co. plumbing fortune. Crane was an advisor to President Woodrow Wilson at the Versailles Peace conference, where he discovered that Americans were woefully ignorant of the less developed parts of the world.   He established the Institute in order to send out young Americans to explore little known parts of the globe and to write newsletters about what they discovered.

Crane was a Chicago company, and it’s the Chicago connection that brought Ned to the Institute by way of his father, Royal Munger, who was Financial Editor at the Chicago Daily News.  Royal had attended Institute luncheons in Chicago before his death as an enlisted Marine during the war. And I found out just last week that one of our other illustrious Honorary Trustees who celebrated his 95th birthday two weeks ago, Phillips Talbot, had worked for Royal and knew Ned as a teenager. That turned into a 70-year friendship and professional collaboration.

Why do I bring this up? There was a magic about this generation, a spirit that Ned and his contemporaries brought to my Institute that continues to shape our program today. While this magic had many components, including high energy, generosity of spirit, and a sense of public duty, perhaps the outstanding feature for our program was deep curiosity that simply could not be satisfied.

Let’s face it. Ned had an incurable case of wanderlust, and he managed to turn it into a profession, with great intellectual distinction. He’s one of a handful of people who perfected the art of scholarly journalism, or scholarship pursued by journalistic methods. He moved with remarkable ease between these two worlds. He had an unstoppable desire to explore the world, in particular Africa, to learn about it and to share what he discovered. It was unapologetic curiosity, based on a realistic and sophisticated understanding of the world, yet refreshingly naïve until the end, somehow pure in spirit, and lacking in worldly ambition. He just wanted to know more, and more. 

Fortunately for Ned, and all of us, his birth and upbringing serendipitously connected him to a network of people willing to pay him to do just that.

Ned first approached the Institute in 1949 in hopes of finding travel money.  Then Executive Director Walter Rogers at first turned him down cold. But then he opened the door a crack. In a November 16, 1949 letter to an associate of Ned’s father, Rogers wrote:

“If Edwin has ability comparable to that of his father and if he wants to become an area man... in the sense that the Institute uses the term, I think he and the question of the Institute having a man in West Africa should be given serious consideration.”

That was enough to prompt Ned into writing an initial letter to Rogers from Kampala, where he was the first Fulbright scholar in Africa.

In the letter he wrote: “Five years ago I began what is intended to be a lifelong study of the continent of Africa, particularly that part lying roughly south of the Sahara. It quickly became evident that what could be learned without first-hand study was very limited.”

After describing his already impressive explorations of that continent, he concluded by saying:

“Needless to say, though, what I don't know about West Africa is too large a subject to touch on. An opportunity for serious and continued study of an area I believe will be increasingly important both politically and economically would, I feel sure, be mutually rewarding.”

It was. The letter was enough to tweak Rogers’ interest, and invite Ned to send in a much longer proposal.

In that letter Ned explained the activities that caused his delay in answering Roger’s invitation, giving Rogers his first real glimpse of the peripatetic energy that Ned had his whole life.

“First I went by ship across Lake Victoria and then by train and car to Mount Kilimanjaro in northern Tanganyika to observe the operation of the African coffee growers' cooperatives and to photograph, map, and study typical coffee “kimhambas” on the slopes of the mountain and the "remas" on the plain below. While there we also climbed the snow-capped mountain in five days (19,560 feet and the highest in Africa). From MoshiI returned to Nairobi and thence by plane across the Northern Frontier District of Kenya to Addis Ababa. There I made notes on an Amhara grain farm about twenty kilometers from the capital. Seeing people in Addis and Dire Dawa as well as flying over the inaccessible areas brought to life the book knowledge I had about Ethiopia. From Dire Dawa I went to Djibouti in French Somaliland, across the Red Sea to Aden, to Hargeisha in British Somaliland, and over the Ogaden Desert to Mogadishu in former Italian Somaliland.”

Not bad for an excuse about a delayed response. After a lengthy description of his proposed activities, he summed up his purpose:

“I would like to deal with current problems arising from westernization of West Africa, including race relations, the economic bases of nationalism and the role of America; comparisons of varying approaches to colonialism developed through limited studies of specific phenomena. The results would be: reports to the Institute; professional articles; chapters of book; and a lifelong application of knowledge and insight gained.”

The letter ranged from the detailed and practical, to the lofty vision of a social scientist and, perhaps most remarkable, described with unerring precision exactly what followed.

The range of his interests were astounding, from agriculture and economic development to race relations, education, famous and powerful and also ordinary people, colonialism and its demise, medicine…it’s hard to think up a topic that Ned did not write about.

His newsletters were at times descriptive and analytical, at other times discursive and opinionated, though never arguing without foundation and never boastful. He wrote fluently and extensively.

In 1952, Ned took a break from his fellowship to help Rogers and Phil Talbot establish the American Universities Field Staff, which he later joined as a field associate. There’s an especially poignant passage in a May letter to Rogers that I think will remind you of the exuberance that we all loved in this man:

“In odd moments during the past months of travel across our country I’ve fallen in love with America all over again--in love with ideas but no less with its earthy, robust power; even in love with my anger at failures and "hypocrisies." It’s a love that is, like most loves, an irrational faith--in land, people, and a few ideals. I felt a real part of the rich, black chernozem of the prairie down through Illinois, Iowa, Missouri, and into the swinging hills of eastern Kansas. I was moved by a feel of living power beneath the face of the dirt rich land, where the tall corn had given way to autumnal stubble. Farmers’ pretentious cars were parked around simple country churches. But their faces matched better the Middle West Gothic than Detroit Fisher bodies as they flashed by at towns along the new Santa Fe Trail.”

It’s a long letter, too much to read here in full. Ned’s influence on our program extended well beyond his years as a fellow, during his association with the American Universities Field Staff, and later serving for many years a Trustee, chair of the board, and honorary trustee. He’s remembered fondly by countless fellows who he nurtured through their fellowships with that unmistakable boyish smile. He was engaged with our fellows until the very end, writing just a few months ago to our current South Africa fellow, Eve Fairbanks, praising the brilliance of her writing and analysis.

I’d like to close with a short excerpt from the letter Ned sent to Rogers at the conclusion of his fellowship in 1954. After thanking Rogers, he focused on what he felt was the most noteworthy part of the fellowship:

“It has been the opportunity to associate in part with your wide experience and the thoughtful conclusions you draw from it--often most effectively by anecdotes. One has the chance to learn the value of silence, of brevity, of preciseness, the place of the steel-shod word which pops pomposity, and not least the warmness of natural humor.

“In the words of a famous French geographer,” he continued, “’It is certain that nothing worthwhile will be realized if the attention of the modern world is focused solely on the means of living. What is needed even more is the art of living.’ It is your great artistry of life I salute.”

And it’s what I salute today as I remember Ned Munger.

Thank you.

 

media.caltech.edu/press_releases/13356
articles.latimes.com/2010/jun/23/local/la-me-adv-edwin-munger-2-20100623

 

 

 

Honoring and Remembering Albert Ravenholt

ICWA Executive Director Steve Butler delivered the following tribute to former Fellow and Honorary Trustee Albert Ravenholt at a memorial for Albert on May 30th.  An obituary and a news story appeared in the Seattle Times:
www.legacy.com/obituaries/seattletimes/obituary.aspx?n=albert-victor-ravenholt&pid=142576902

If you think about the Institute of Current World Affairs, you just think about Albert.  The two go together.

Our Institute was founded in 1925 with funding provided by the philanthropist and internationalist Charles R. Crane. Crane was an advisor to President Woodrow Wilson at the Versailles Peace conference, where he discovered that Americans were woefully ignorant of the less developed parts of the world. He established the Institute in order to send out young Americans to explore little known parts of the globe and to write newsletters about what they discovered.

The Institute’s first executive director, Walter Rogers, discovered Albert in 1947. Albert made his way through the vetting process even though he lacked something that every other fellow to that time (and possibly afterwards) possessed: a formal education.  It’s a remarkable testament to the confidence that Albert inspired in others.

In a letter to the board recommending Albert for a fellowship, Rogers said: “Those of us who have talked with Mr. Ravenholt feel that he is a very promising person, but that he lacks basic intellectual training. As a partial offset, however, he has sought education at every opportunity, is widely read, knowledgeable as to the ways of the world, and is keenly anxious to make the most of himself and to do the sort of work the Institute is interested in.”

Indeed.

Albert’s proposal to the Institute was simple, direct, and inspired.

In a letter to Rogers, he wrote: “I am anxious to train myself to constructively participate in the life of my generation. To that end, I would like to continue studying an area which seems bound to become increasingly important. My findings I want to pass along with writing, speaking and other media available. Eventually, I would like to get into public life. I believe there is a need in that field for individuals with a background of experience in those parts of the world where crises are imminent.”

That was the start of a long and wonderful relationship. Albert’s vision for what he wanted to do, lofty and detailed at the same time, remains a model for what we do today.

Rogers sent Albert to Harvard for a year to acquire some of the formal training he lacked. And there he excelled. John King Fairbank, the dean of China historians for a generation, wrote a letter to Rogers about Albert when the year was finished. After praising his final examination, he said: “I should like to take this occasion to tell you how much we have enjoyed his as well as Marjorie’s presence here this year. ….From my own personal point of view I gained greatly from his presence in our seminar discussions, since he is the most live-minded questioner of speakers that we have had.”

It’s fair to say that this is the Albert that all of you here knew.

He excelled as a fellow of the Institute, writing reports that were detailed, thoughtful, easily assembled and read, and altogether lacking in self-promotion or vanity that is so common today among young writers exploring the world. Albert was deeply curious, yet intellectually mature and open minded. He left behind an outstanding written record of his travels for the Institute and later for the American Universities Field Staff.

And yet his legacy with the Institute goes far beyond his years as a fellow. While living in Asia he put himself at the center of a social and professional network that shaped the attitudes of a generation of people associated with the Institute. He charmed and inspired people.

I’d like to read a few excerpts from messages we received after I informed our members of Albert’s passing.

This comes from Jeane Olson, the wife of Albert’s friend and fellow Asia expert Lawrence Olson, also a Field Staffer.

“Al was the sort of person who took every lemon that life threw at him and turned it into lemonade, which he shared with others freely and happily. When China refused him a visa, he moved his headquarters to the Philippines and carried on with impressive results. When he set up a vineyard in Washington State, many colleagues gladly accepted gifts of wine. And he did not talk down to women, even colleagues' wives who lacked the professional background that he shared with their husbands.”

Many of our fellows have a clear memory of Albert as a trustee when he interviewed them for one of our fellowships.  Albert had vision that he easily communicated to others, and this vision and his ability to inspire others with it has made us a far better organization.

Carol Rose, now Executive director of the Massachusetts ACLU and currently one of our trustees, remembers her first meeting with Albert. “We met over breakfast in Seattle, and I asked him what the Institute was seeking in a fellow. Was the fellowship about creating future journalists? Diplomats?  Writers? Professors?"

Albert had a ready answer: “We are seeking something far more rare,” he said. “We are seeking someone who is sufficiently adventurous and intellectually curious enough to be truly transformed by a fellowship.”

This comment came from Carole Beaulieu, Editor in Chief of Actualité, the French-Canadian news magazine:

“Almost 20 years after first meeting Albert Ravenholt and his wife for coffee in Fisherman’s market in Seattle... I can still close my eyes and feel the joyful and profound sense of commitment to humanity they embodied for me that day.

"Years later, I can still tap into that energy, that laughter, that determination... and let it flow into my work.

"I was a young French-Canadian journalist dreaming of living in Vietnam for two years. Albert Ravenholt had personally met Ho Chi Minh.  Months later while I was living in a northern  Vietnamese village writing about land reform,  I often wondered how Albert would have gone about circumnavigating the difficulties I was facing,  convincing communist officials to let me work in the area, convincing peasants to tell me how their daily lives were changing.  My difficulties seemed so trivial considering the ones he had faced... So I thought about him, and I pushed ahead.

"He had dared me to become a better journalist, to fight ignorance, to be a person worth knowing, to make a contribution, to be real.
He still does."

I’d like to close with a story about Albert and the Institute, which I’m telling with the permission of Albert’s brother Reimert, because I’m revealing a confidence.

In 2002, Albert made a significant donation to the Institute anonymously. The donation supported a series of fellowships in South Asia named in honor of his good friend Phillips Talbot. Albert and Phil had been close friends since 1942, when they were introduced by Phil’s fiancée Mildred in New Delhi. Phil had been appointed an Institute Fellow in India in 1938, forcing postponement of his marriage. And Mildred was not going to allow a mere world war to further postpone the marriage, so she managed to get herself to India on a Red Cross ship. She found herself staying at the Cecil Hotel where Albert lived, and suspected that Phil and Al would have a good deal in common. It was the start of a close friendship and professional partnership that spanned more than 60 years. Phil went on to direct the Universities Field Staff, to be Assistant Secretary of State under Presidents Kennedy and Johnson, to be Ambassador to Greece, and later President of the Asia Society.

The letter to my predecessor as Executive Director, Peter Martin, accompanying the first installment of the donation was classic, high-minded Albert: “My hope is that with Phil Talbot and you giving this your personal attention there can be early attention to finding the first fellow and getting him into the field. I sense a real shortage of mature-minded and experienced Americans who are equal to the challenge confronting the people there and us.”

Some years later, a question arose with our auditors as to whether the money was intended to be spent, or to be added to our endowment. This question arose after Albert had suffered a stroke. While Albert continued to express himself in the same inspired and lofty manner, he had more trouble maintaining a train of thought.  I drafted a letter for Albert to sign to confirm his intention that the donation be spent on fellowships, and I mailed the letter to Reimert. Reimert gave the letter to Albert. But Albert did nothing with the letter, and I was afraid he might not be able to help us.

I was wrong. About a month after that, in 2007, I was in Seattle, having breakfast at a restaurant with Albert and a few others.  Without any prompting, Albert reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out the letter and told me he wanted to sign it in front of me and explain why he wanted this money spent for current fellowships.  Mildred, he explained, had recently died, a terrible blow to his good friend. He thought the fellowships would cheer Phil, and he wanted Phil to be able to enjoy and participate in the cultivation of a new crop of South Asia specialists while he was alive and his mind clear.  This has all happened. Phil celebrates his 95th birthday in nine days, and before that he will share the stage at our semi-annual meeting with the most recent returning Talbot Fellow, all made possible by Albert. Talbot fellows have already produced two books. 

This is a wonderful legacy, for my Institute and for our public service mission. It comes from the joining of a far-reaching vision for the world, deep caring for friends, and unbounded personal generosity. That’s how I remember Albert.

Thank you.