Cutler Shepard
Cutler Shepard spent the summer of 1955 at work in the field, at
a mine somewhere I no longer remember. He was an extractive metallurgist,
skilled at getting metal out of the rocks. He was the Department
Chairman for mining and metallurgy at Stanford—logically so
since he created the Department. Just after he left for the summer,
a letter reached his in-basket.
I spent that summer (after my junior year in geology at San Jose
State) working in a gas station. My advisor, Prof. Norman Dolloff,
himself an inspiration like Cutler, appeared late one August day
and asked. "How would you like $2000?" With out even
giving it a thought, or asking what for, I said, "Yes". That
was at least 10 times more money than I had ever seen before all
in one place.
It turned out that there was a slight string attached. I would have
to change majors from geology, my first and continuing love, to metallurgy
and go to Stanford. It seems that the letter Cutler received was
from Kennecott Copper offering a fellowship where the student and
University each received $2000 per year. It arrived too late
for proper processing on schedule. Having no ready candidates
that late in the year, Cutler inquired of all his ex students, did
they know anyone? Norman immediately recommended me. Lots
of hassles and an interview at the "Top Of The Mark" in
San Francisco (I didn't even own a suit) followed. A few days before
the fall Quarter was to begin, I was accepted.
To that point I had been working 40 hours a week, carrying a full
academic load and still doing well enough grade-wise. Stanford grads
could find jobs; San Jose State folks had harder times. That
figured into my retrospective excuses for making the switch. I have
always been an Intellectual and Stanford would add to that aura—a
second retrospective reason for the switch.
Cutler was a slender man about 5'10" with a big booming voice,
a large shock of gray hair and dancing blue-gray eyes. He absolutely
loved teaching. And he could inspire. Something as simple
as dumping mud on a conveyor belt, washing it with water to move
the light minerals off first and dropping the heavy stuff into a
bin became a drama in his description—we sat on the edges of
our seats to catch every word.
Cutler had three careers and was into the second as I arrive at
Stanford. My first exposure to his new skill came when he strung
this piece of iron wire across room 101 in the Peterson Building.
He hooked a variable electric power source to each end and began
to heat it. Finally it got a little red, then redder and redder.
As it heated it sagged—of course. But then something
strange happened. It stopped sagging and got suddenly shorter,
reversing the sag! We were enthralled by our introduction to
the ferrite-to-austenite transformation in steel. It seems
in austenite that the atoms are closer together than in ferrite.
That is just one lecture I shall never forget. When I saw Richard
Feynman on TV years later, I remembered Cutler. Feynman demonstrated
for Congress how the rubber gaskets used in the Challenger disaster
turned brittle when dipped in ice water. Miles apart, Cutler
and Feynman were brothers in the dramas of science and technology.
Cutler's three careers began with several years in industry followed
by establishing the Mining and Metallurgy Department of Stanford.
His third career was to anticipate the future and thereby elevate
Stanford to among the leading schools in Materials Science. Yep
you guessed it; my Ph.D. came in Materials Science. One of
Cutler's students, Bill Nix, did my "Finishing" years later.
I had taken 10 years out after my MS to get my hands dirty, see below.
Cutler arranged summer jobs for his students in their field of study,
and in that way too anticipated the future in education. Temperament
and commitment can mean more than shear brilliance. Cutler
had an abundance of both. No Nobel prize for him, just hundreds
of protégés and students to carry on his very beingness,
to coin a word I cannot find.
From Cutler I learned many things. Most importantly
* It pays to
get your hands dirty, be able to practice what you preach.
* Be direct with honesty and integrity in all communications, especially the
mentor type.
Communication is where it is at, especially when salted with a sense
of humor which he had in abundance. Cutler used ordinary words
to explain the complex and arcane and to make it all so real and
obvious—after the explanation. In those characteristics he
was like Kris who brushed away the mystery of Freud in about five
seconds. More important even than his teaching, was Cutler's humanity.
He found loan after loan for needy students. He played softball
with us during Department picnics. At 50, he got all banged
up sliding into second with a double laughing his head off. He
invited us to his house. I had a family and we were scratching
for a living and he knew we would appreciate a meal and conversation.
Cutler made a difference in the world for so many. He turned 90
in '92 and I went to the reception the Department held for him. I
only flew 3000 miles; others came from around the globe. He
had shrunk 5" and was frail and weak. But his inner zest
was still there as he caught up on his ex student's lives and times.
Colleagues came too. Craig Barrett, now chairman of Intel
(and a member of my Graduate Committee) came. Many of his students
are famous and others merely successful like me. When asked
what he thought about so many students surpassing him he replied "Why
now that I think of it, I would not want it any other way".
Being simple, straight and direct can have profound results. In these
ways he was like Helen, Norman and Kris.
I haven't touched as many people as Cutler did, but he inspired
much of what I have been able to do. Never could I match his
resonant voice, but I did catch his enthusiasm and I use it to this
day in the twilight of my own life—coaching people how better
to communicate, invent and compress time-to-market and yes, how to
construct web pages—to their astonishment. In that way
too, Cutler taught me how to pursue new things.
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