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 mid
the excitement of this week, with the State of the Union address,
the upcoming Super Bowl, and the Enron scandal all filling the headlines,
most of the country is unaware that it has suffered a tremendous
loss. Michael P. Hammond, newly appointed chairman of the National
Endowment for the Arts, died in his sleep Monday night in Washington,
D.C., as he prepared to begin a radically new phase of his life.
Dean Hammond, as he is fondly remembered by his students and colleagues
at Rice University, was a truly remarkable man who profoundly affected
the lives of those of us fortunate enough to have known him.
His myriad
accomplishments range from composing and conducting musical scores
to teaching neuroanatomy and physiology at the medical school —
and from designing the architectural program for Alice Pratt Brown
Hall (the music building at Rice University) to accepting the chairmanship
of the NEA on January 22 of this year. His limitless curiosity and
appreciation of wonder were an inspiration to those around him,
and infused his work with the power and beauty that so captivated
audiences of Rice's symphony, which Hammond built to prominence
during his 16 years as dean. But, above and beyond his many achievements,
Michael Hammond connected with other people. Whether a student,
colleague, or innocent bystander, one could not help but be motivated,
encouraged, and challenged by this gray-haired, bespectacled, energetic
man.
His intelligence
and creativity were beautifully matched by humility and kindness.
I recall how, over lunch one day at the faculty dining hall, he
told me about his days as an undergraduate at Lawrence University,
where he would often skip class in favor of a leisurely walk along
the Fox River. He told me he had often been bored in class, because
he disliked having to move through the same thoughts as everyone
else when he would have much preferred to think on his own and then
meet with the professor afterward for a challenging, personal discussion.
Not only were the professors willing to meet with young Michael,
but as he put it to me, "they were kind enough to get me a
Rhodes scholarship when I graduated." This attitude toward
academic pursuits never left him, and his interest in the connection
between music and the brain is only one example of how he was constantly
reevaluating the world in which he lived for new ideas and new opportunities
to do good work.
Who knows what
he might have accomplished at the NEA if he had been given more
time? His incredible successes at Rice and elsewhere suggest that
he would have performed spectacularly. His death is a tragic loss,
not only for his friends and family — and not only for the
NEA and the arts community — but for all of America. One of
our greatest, most beautiful minds is gone. He will be missed.
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