2009 Commencement Address

Steven A. Minter, Executive-in-Residence, Cleveland State University

President Bassett, Chairman Mosakowski, distinguished faculty members, graduates, fellow honorees, families and friends but especially the Class of 2009. John, I am thrilled with that introduction and I'd like am going to get a tape of it and I am going to take an extra program and send it to my parents in San Antonio and tell them, "See Mom and Dad, I've still got it."

It's a great honor to receive such signal recognition from one of this nation's distinguished universities, and to be a part of this, which now I will consider to be warm-up act for next year. For, in just one year, my wife, Dolly, and I will be attending my 50th year class reunion from our alma mater Baldwin-Wallace College. It will be a time for renewing friendships, reliving some history and telling some tall tales. We will recall and celebrate the events that occurred there, including our marriage in the college chapel.

That commencement in 1960 was a life-changing moment for me. I had a college degree-the first in my family. Well, actually I received a blank diploma because I had failed to take an introductory American History class, although I was a history minor. The registrar said the bad news was-or maybe it was the good news was-you can still walk across the stage, but don't show your parents your diploma. Fortunately, American history was offered in summer school so I could officially graduate in August.

In August I would sign a contract to teach and be a high school coach and move into Cleveland, Ohio's largest city. I would vote for the first time in November, but I was already caught up in what became the historic Nixon/Kennedy election.

So, as you can imagine, commencement was a big moment for my family. For I am the oldest of eight children, born in Akron, Ohio, and spent most of my youth living in small northeast Ohio towns. I was in a high school graduating class of 16, and I can tell you that I finished in the upper fourth of my class. I was the first and only black graduate in the history of Kinsman Township schools. My family was the only black family in the township. Imagine the stories I could tell. You have heard about my careers since commencement. It includes a number of firsts. Mine is a story about the changing nature of American society in the decades since the advent of the New Frontier and the Great Society.

This afternoon I want to share with you parts of my personal and professional journey and the lessons learned along the way.

I have three central messages: First, unanticipated consequences may bring unexpected opportunities. Second, central cities and their neighborhoods are once again becoming places of choice. And third, persistence, resilience and passion pay dividends.

First, those unanticipated consequences: Two events share as examples. Well it was August and I went to the Cleveland Board of Education to sign my teaching contract with the person with whom I had negotiated it with. There was a problem. He was ill. His supervisor was surprised because he did not know I was there to be hired. In fact, he made it clear that if such a position was open it would be offered to a Negro college graduate who had gone through the Cleveland Public Schools and graduated. The contract would then go to one of that system's star athletes who had done good. I would not be teaching in Cleveland.

But there were still available jobs even at that late date. They were in the suburbs, small towns, and rural Ohio. In less than a month I had over 30 interviews for vacant positions. The response was the same everywhere. "We wondered why someone with your background and qualifications was still available. We would like to hire you but this community is just not ready." One superintendent interviewing me actually wept while he was telling me that he was sorry.

During this frantic period I ran into Miss Reigler -- the first big lesson in networking -- the exec secretary to the president of the College, and she asked me about my future plans. I shared my story. She was distressed and sympathetic. She suggested that maybe I should go down to the county welfare department because they needed social workers. She arranged an appointment for me to have an interview. I thought this might be an interesting job. I interviewed. The personnel director said there were available positions but he was sure I was going to leave as soon as I got a teaching job. Thus, no job offer.

Several days later I encountered by chance, walking across the campus, Miss Reigler, again the college president's secretary. She asked me about my search. I told her. A few hours later I received a telephone call from the welfare department's personnel office. Please report to work on Monday morning.

Now, it turned out that Miss Reigler, executive secretary to the president, had a sister, Miss Reigler, secretary to the director of the welfare department. I embarked on an unanticipated career and have appreciated ever since the power of networks, connections and unexpected opportunities. I suppose for you, there's another lesson: It may be the secretary or the food service director who may be as powerful an influence as that faculty member you had.

I became a social worker, attending graduate school on a state stipend and rose through the ranks to become director of the department in less than nine years, the first African American to hold such a post in Ohio. That led to my being recruited, ten years later in 1970, to become the director of the Department of Public Welfare in Massachusetts. And I accepted Gov. Francis Sargent's offer. It was a big move for the Governor and a big move for me.

According to the press, I would be the first African American cabinet member in the Commonwealth's history. I was very conscious of being a path breaker and I wanted to be successful for obvious reasons. After all, if the first black person were successful it might make it easier for others to follow in his footsteps.

But I was to learn an important lesson. Monsignor O'Sullivan, the executive director of Sommerville Catholic Charities came to welcome me and invite me to speak at their next annual meeting. As he was departing he asked me if I had been to Lake Street. I hadn't heard of Lake Street. He said, No? Well, you need to be introduced to the head of the Catholic Diocese, Cardinal Cushing. That happened very soon. I was thrilled to meet this legendary great figure - the person who had played such a significant and important role with the Kennedy family.

When I arrived, I was surprised that Cardinal Cushing seemed to know more about me that I did about him. He had checked me out thoroughly with the Cleveland Catholic Diocese and told me all the persons he had talked to. During that conversation it dawned on me that what I thought was significant was not to him.

Cardinal Cushing might have been interested in my racial background and experiences but what he was really interested in was that I was going to be the first protestant commissioner of a state agency that had forever been directed by Catholic men. What a surprise and what a lesson in diversity. I now had a totally unexpected opportunity to break through old barriers, barriers that one wants to take advantage of. And so, the lesson for me was: You may encounter unanticipated challenges and opportunities. Be open to the experience.

Second Message: Central cities and their neighborhoods are once again becoming places of choice.

In 1960, I moved into the East 75th Street area, the Hough area of Cleveland just one block north of Cleveland's most famous avenue, Euclid Avenue. The manor where I moved had a doorman and a switchboard operator. Twenty-five blocks away was University Circle, home to great cultural institutions and universities, such as the world class Cleveland Museum of Art, the Cleveland Orchestra, Cleveland Clinic, and Case Western Reserve University.

In less than one year the doorman and the switchboard operator were gone. Insurance companies had redlined the area and my auto insurance was canceled. The building was no longer cleaned on a regular basis. I moved. So did thousands of other persons. Massive disinvestment became evident. In just a few short years, 1966, the Hough neighborhood exploded into riots for six terrible, destructive days. The National Guard patrolled the streets. Hough, the area in which I now worked, became a poster neighborhood for poverty, single parent families, failing schools, abandoned housing, racial isolation and population loss. In fact, it was part of that enormous decline. For, you see, in 1950 Cleveland had almost a million people. In the 2000 census it was under 500,000.

Regretfully, the summer disorders of 1966 and 1967 deepened racial division and encouraged massive flight from our cities. The Kerner Commission established by President Johnson was asked to investigate. Its conclusion: "Our nation is moving toward two societies, one black, and one white-separate and unequal."

Variations on this story occurred all over the county. Most of all in the older industrial cities like Baltimore, Providence, Richmond, Hartford, Detroit, Los Angeles, St. Louis, and Pittsburgh. Most older industrial cities seemed to be in an unrestrained free-fall.

But, step-by-step, cities and their inner-ring suburbs are coming back. Why? Because the public and private and nonprofit sector leaders and institutions decided to be proactive rather than just react to crisis. National foundations, community foundations, business organizations, neighborhood groups, hospitals and universities organized and conducted extensive self-examination of their community's assets and liabilities.

A remarkable discovery occurred. Older industrial cities have large concentrations of education and medical centers. Older cities are rich with museums, theater, music and parks. Older cities have dozens of professional sports teams. Older cities have lakefronts and waterfronts and riverfronts. Older cities have historic structures, vacant land, sidewalks and yes, demographic and social and ethnic diversity. Older cities began welcoming rather than discouraging immigration.

The result? The 2000 census documented population growth in many of the older city centers and their metropolitan area. And other cities lost less population between 1990 and 2000 than they had in prior decades. An influential Civic coalition, CEOs for Cities, declared, "The Era of Urban Decline is Over." While there is still much to be done, cities by and large are doing better in the 21st century, after decades of decline.

And those signs of renewal are everywhere. Return briefly with me to the Hough area in 2009. Nearly 300 townhouses occupy the sites where the Hough riots occurred. A shopping center and townhouses for middle class families are now situated on Euclid Avenue. Euclid Avenue's roadway has been totally rebuilt and a state-of-the-art transit system connects the city center and University Circle. The difference between downtown and the circle is about 107 blocks. Two great medical centers, the Cleveland Clinic and University Hospitals are among the five largest employers in the state.

The transition is definitely under way from a manufacturing economy to a knowledge economy.

Here in Worcester, evidence of this long-term but dramatic shift in the future of cities exists all around Clark's campus. This university is a leader in public/private partnerships in economic development, education and workforce development. Main Street is being redeveloped. Disadvantaged students are excelling at University Park Campus School and going to college and graduating. The neighborhood is being restored. To use a Wall Street Journal term-Clark is nurturing "green shoots."

This is the opportune time for you to seize the moment. Move downtown or into a nearby neighborhood. Join Teach for America and teach in a city public school or charter school. Spend a year or two in the Peace Corps or AmeriCorp. Work for a neighborhood development corporation building green structures. Buy an affordable foreclosed property and invest limited funds and your sweat equity. Encourage your empty nester parents to locate closer to the cultural amenities. Volunteer strategically and make a difference. Move into a diverse community. Perhaps, some of you might become community organizers. I know someone who did pretty well by that. His name is President Barack Obama.

My third and final message: persistence, resilience and passion pay dividends.

When I joined the Cleveland Foundation I had to prepare myself for the new role. I researched the foundation's early years-after all, it was established in 1914 . I founded a series of community studies on criminal justice, schools, parks and recreation conducted by the foundation in that early period. Those studies helped me understand that cities grapple with enduring issues. The landscape changes but the issues don't. Things don't stay fixed or static. New programs can be implemented. Solutions to correct flaws are executed. Even when things have been done right, something goes awry. Sometimes the timing is not just right. But rather than give up, community leaders mobilize new partnerships at a later time and go about the business of reinventing the school system or creating new parks. New volunteers, new public officials, new residents come together with an attitude that we can we will be successful this time.

On many occasions, over the past number of years, I have been inspired by the words of Robert F. Kennedy who said it best: "Some men see things as they are and say, 'Why?' I dream of things that never were and say, 'Why not?'" Those words made an indelible impression on me. They are a frequent reminder of why I continue to engage in community building activities.

I believe the spirit of Robert Kennedy's remarks invites all of us to work tirelessly to change our communities and our country for the better. They are a clarion call to be persistent, optimistic and passionate about your ability to change things as they are.

Years ago another great man wrote about his work and life. At the age of 89, seven years before he died, the great African-American scholar, author, editor and reformer W.E.B. DuBois wrote the following words to be read at his funeral, words that each of us would like to be said about our own lives and careers. He said, "I have loved my work. I have loved people and my play, but always I have been uplifted by the thought that what I have done well will live long and justify my life."

That's what I wish for each of you. Thank you.