Take a Chance

Funny how things work out. At the time it happens, we seldom know who the people are who decided to “take a chance” and support us on our life’s journey. As I sit here in the Fourth Quarter of my life, I wonder what would have become of me if certain people had not reached out and said to themselves, “I think I’ll take a chance on Gordy.” Thankfully they did, and I’m forever grateful.  

I was in graduate school at the University of Florida in 1970 pursuing an MBA and then PhD in Management having graduated from Western Illinois University in 1968. I had been awarded an NDEA Title IV Fellowship which meant my tuition and fees were paid for, and I received a monthly stipend of $200 the first year and $216 the second. Diane got a job and somehow we managed to pay our bills. Life was good and the fellowship had one year remaining. We busied ourselves as newlyweds working, studying, watching Gator basketball and football, and driving the 80 miles to Crescent Beach, just south of St. Augustine almost every weekend we got the chance. We didn’t know it at the time, and even with the pressure of the elusive PhD pursuit, it was the most carefree time we would enjoy in our almost 55 years together. But change was lurking on the horizon.

My mom had died tragically in 1969 at age 47. I felt the need to be closer to home in suburban Hinsdale where younger brother Greg was living with our dad, who just was not excited about raising a twelve-year-old on his own. It was complicated, but then we all learn at some point, that life can be that way. I had finished two years of the fellowship with one to go, so what to do. Maybe I could return to my undergraduate alma mater, finish my doctorate degree from Macomb, and play a more significant role in the lives of both Greg and Dad.  Diane and I hatched a plan that could make this outcome a reality.

I wrote a letter to one of my favorite teachers at Western, Dr. Bob Jefferson, Professor of Marketing. He might remember me as Gordy Taylor who had received one of two A’s in his Advertising 213 class a couple of years earlier.  Lucky for me he did, and he called back suggesting I return to Western for an interview as there was an opening in the Department of Management for an Assistant Professor. How about that! I flew back to Illinois, interviewed, and “got the job.”  Dr. Jefferson had taken a chance, put his reputation “on the line,” and was the driving force behind me getting the job. I taught Management for eight years before fate struck again.

Now how would Gordy move from the classroom to the realm of Alumni Programs?  Still young at 32, Mr. Taylor would be hired by Dr. Ralph Wagoner, Vice President for Advancement. I had never met the man, nor he me. I was totally unknown to him and vice versa. The interview process went well and after the “dinner with the spouse” where Diane hit a proverbial grand slam, the job I would love for the next 28 years was mine.  Ralph and I remain friends to this day and not only did he take a chance on me but he was also my primary career mentor. Sometimes timing is everything. 

As stated earlier, life can get complicated and it did for me. Pursuit of the doctorate was not going well. Simply stated, everything that could go wrong did. It was a lousy time in our lives and it appeared the PhD just might not happen and thus my teaching career at a university would most likely end as individuals needed a doctorate to get tenure in a College of Business. Faculty had ten years to get the job done, and I was running out of time, ergo, my pursuit of the alumni job. I was about to “give up” which certainly was something foreign to my DNA but was it even worth the effort. At this point, I called good buddy, Harry Gianneschi, who was one of my predecessors in the alumni job and inquired, “Harry, should I even bother with this? I have the job and you don’t really need a PhD to be the alumni person.” His answer was brief and immediate. “Gordy, get it if you can because it gives you credibility at everything that matters in higher ed. It makes you an equal at the table so yes, get it.” Now what?

I desperately needed a “knight in shining armor” to come to my aid and help me get over the hump I was facing regarding the quantitative aspect of my degree pursuit. But who? I was at a complete dead end when it dawned on me. Dave, he is the guru of all things mathematical which I am not. Good old Dave Beveridge. We taught together, partied together, Diane and Judy became the closest of friends, we had kids together, and of course, we played softball together.  Dave was the Dean of the College of Business administering to the needs of his faculty.  Fortunately, we remained close friends. So what did I do? I walked into his office, closed the door, and said, “Dave, you know I have the alumni job, but I need to finish up this damn doctorate.  I am clueless on how to handle the computer analysis of all this data that has been generated. Will you help me?”  The poor guy looked at me, standing there looking helpless and forlorn (I was) and he consented to help me much to his eternal chagrin.  I was in his office three times a week for the next two years badgering the poor guy on “what to do next.”  It was excruciating; it was painful; it was extreme frustration.  However, we pressed forward as the clock was ticking closer and closer to the ten-year completion deadline at the University of Florida.

And then “We did it.” All the hurdles were overcome and in June 1980.  I became Dr. Gordon A. Taylor with maybe ten seconds to spare before my time ran out.  Hooray! Eureka! Yippee! Time for a party and boy was it a big one which was held on our driveway on Glenoak Drive. As fits rural America, it was a pig roast with plenty of food and there was beer and champagne, lots of it.  At some point, late into the evening, there was a toast, “Here’s to Dr. Taylor” and a huge round of applause filled the evening air. Then, someone, and I don’t know who, made a suggestion that to this day remains a seminal quote in our family lexicon. “What about Beveridge?” came the loud shout, and then we had a toast to the “only co-authored dissertation” in the annals of academic history. It was a hoot and everyone laughed. The point is, Dave Beveridge was a very busy man, and he didn’t have to take a chance on me but he did. We all need people like Dave who in those crucial, defining times in our lives, are there for us to help us in our times of greatest need. Dave was one of those people for me.

I suppose that should be the end but fortunately it isn’t as there is one more “take a chance” moment left to experience. One would think that was it–teaching career, wonderful fulfilling alumni job, what else could there be, but sometimes, things just, well happen, and they did for me.  Ralph Wagoner went on to become President of Western Illinois University for eight years and then assumed a similar position at Augustana College in South Dakota.  WIU’s next president was Dr. Donald Spencer who came to Western via State University of New York at Geneseo.  Don is a brilliant “man of action” who accomplished much during his tenure. Shortly after his arrival, President Spencer made some changes and one of them included me. He selected the wonderful, personable, respected, and admired Dr. Larry Mortier to become Vice President for Advancement and Public Service. Larry was perfect for the job and accomplished many fine things during his time at Western. Simultaneously, Spencer looked into his crystal ball and said something to the effect of “what to do about Gordy?”  He knew I had been the “alumni guy” for a long time and maybe could assist Larry with fundraising.  Consequently, I became the Associate Vice President for Advancement and Alumni Programs, a position I held until I retired. Again, and to my good fortune, Don Spencer took a chance and the team of Spencer, Mortier, and Taylor was a damn fine one in the area of university advancement and fundraising. 

“Taking a chance” affects all of us, in ways large and small.  I’m grateful these people all “took a chance” on me.  Bob, Ralph, and Don are all retired and sadly Dave, my softball playing buddy, passed away much too young.  Now it’s time to take a moment and maybe reach out to those who “took a chance” on you via a note, a call, a text, or email. I guarantee you will feel good and so will they.