Christopher R. Spaulding

Tuck Investiture Speech

9 June 2001

A few weeks ago, when I first told some non-Tuck friends that I was working on a speech for Investiture, I could hear the disbelief in their voices over the phone. When I asked what was so amazing, they invariably replied – Gosh, Chris, you can’t even graduate without homework! That may be true, but it is a tremendous honor to have had this kind of work to do over the past few weeks.

On behalf of my classmates, I want to thank the professors, faculty, staff, families, and friends with us today – we owe our success, in so many ways, to your support. To my classmates, I want you to know that it is a profound honor to stand here with you, and I thank you for the gift of looking out at an incredible group of colleagues and friends.

It’s hard to believe it has been almost two years since I nosed my truck east out of the Rockies and headed for the rolling hills of New Hampshire. While the “mountains” here aren’t as precipitous as they are back home, the learning curves at Tuck have been steep enough to compensate.

In many ways, this experience – and the impending loan payments… – have been much more than I bargained for.

Before Tuck, the most challenging environment I had experienced was that of climbing in the mountains. Most of you know of – and many of you question my sanity because – of my love of climbing. While climbing certainly has its high points, there’s a great deal of work involved to reach them. Over the years, I have been benighted on mountains, I’ve had snowbridges collapse beneath me, and made my way through whiteouts and avalanches. And I have lost friends who never came back from their own climbs…. But I would do it all again without hesitation.

Climbing has been the whetstone I’ve used to sharpen and hone my skills, my perspectives, and my values. The sacrifice and pain of long days and cold nights have humbled me. The challenge, self-reliance, and teamwork required of climbers have bound me to others and to the world in a powerful way. James Ramsey Ullman, a well-known author and climber of the 20^th century once wrote: “It is the ultimate wisdom of the mountains that a man is never more a man than when he is striving for what is beyond his grasp.” Climbing has often forced me to strive far beyond my grasp, as has Tuck – and I’m grateful for the lessons.

One of the best things about being a climber is mountaineer’s memory – that oft maligned but blissful condition that eventually erases all unpleasantness and recalls only the greatest parts of the climb. In looking back at our time at Tuck, I think most of us will find mountaineer’s memory to hold – we’ll forget many of the small things, but we’ll remember the best about this experience, its challenges, and the Tuck community.

When weighing our grad school choices, each of us had our own reasons for choosing Tuck. While I was working through that process, I remember reading a book that compared different b-school programs and environments. Tuck’s profile made reference to some house called the Farm, the fact that dogs roamed the halls, and that everyone knew everyone on a first name basis. Given that I was working on a Ranch, surrounded by animals of all sorts already, and that I’d lived in a small town for a while, Tuck seemed to fit the bill. Even more important, however, were the constant references to Tuck’s fiercely loyal community – that hard to define, yet easy to recognize, bond that grows among a group of people faced with common challenges, opportunities, and goals.

Since the fall of ‘99, we have gotten to know our Tuck community very, very well. (I suppose living in a town with three bars and four restaurants has helped a bit…!) While the first days of school are a bit hazy to me, I do remember arriving in town, pulling up to Buchanan to unload my stuff into a dorm for the first time in – well, about a decade – and beginning to feel the first stages of shock.

The rigor of the Pre-Enrollment classes took me (and I think a lot of us) by surprise, and I had a sneaking suspicion that I might have made a big mistake. Then came the day at the end of Pre-Enrollment when we gathered in the Stoneman classroom for a few words of wisdom from Pat Palmiotto and Steve Powell. Professor Powell took the floor and proceeded to deliver the most depressing message I’d ever heard in my life. After congratulating us for getting into Tuck and completing Pre-Enrollment, he continued his glowing speech by trying to sensitively break the news that – despite the fact that most of us had usually come out at the top of whatever we’d tried in the past – that was about to change due to the law of “the curve.” I, for one, felt the lights begin to dim at that very moment.

While I have certainly done my share to shape the bottom half of the curve, I rarely remember seeing the upper part of it – must’ve been pretty steep… But we made it. We made it individually and we made it collectively. Many nights during the first year, I laid awake in my Buchanan dorm room wondering just what Sally Jaeger and Mark Meyerrose had been thinking when they accepted my application. I had never heard of a WACC or the CAPM (in fact, I think I called it the C-A-P-M the first few times…), I would have been hard-pressed to tell you the difference between investment banking and strategy consulting, and I thought business casual meant a fleece vest and no sandals. In talking to many of you this year, I realize now that I wasn’t entirely alone in feeling I may have been reaching beyond my grasp last year.

That said, we have all learned so much these past two years together – often with a very healthy dose of humor and candor. Our so-called Talent Shows and Tom DeLuca’s hypnotism displays have helped reveal the hidden talents of our classmates (so many mullets and ninja moves, so little time…). From Road Rally to Run for the Kids, MarkStrat to RadStrat, Pub Night to the Champagne Toast, Pre-Enrollment to Disorientation – we have survived a lot together and learned a great deal in the process, and it’s been an honor to learn alongside you.

This is likely the last time that we’ll all be together in the same place at the same time. I hope we appreciate that. I also hope, however, that none of us looks back on this as “the good old days.” If this experience defines the best of life, we’ll have failed. Our two years here have been wonderful on so many levels, but the best is yet to come. We are prepared to do so much with our lives as we go back out to the “real world.”

We can all crunch numbers. We can all build good PowerPoint decks. And after Professor Shank’s admonitions, I hope we can all construct accurate DCF models. But there are a lot of people in the world who can do that. While important, these skills are not enough. We bring more to the table than our learned abilities; we bring our uniqueness. Each one of us is unique and this expression of who we are will never come again. Share that uniqueness and encourage it in others – that is what makes life interesting, unpredictable, valuable.

When a snowstorm overtakes a climber at altitude, the whole world goes white and begins to spin, and it can be impossible to even see your hand in front of your face. But with a trained compass and a good sense of what’s up and what’s down, a climber can still move safely. A lot of what’s ahead for us out there is going to feel pretty dizzying, especially after the last couple weeks of living like we’re retired…. But let’s not lose our bearings as things get tough, busy, fast-paced. Remember what it is that makes you strong and unique. Each of us has a voice inside that, like a compass, keeps pointing to our own true north – follow it and know that it makes you unique and important and necessary. Whether it leads you in a straight line or an about face, it doesn’t matter. You owe it to yourself – and to us – to follow that.

Edward Abbey, a gifted American author and passionate advocate of the American West, once wrote: “Sentiment without action is the ruin of the soul.” His words challenge each of us to find what it is that feeds our souls, puts us in our place, connects us to the greater good – and to DO something with that knowledge.

As Tuck graduates, we’ve benefited from an exceptional education; we know a number of faculty, staff, and alumni who are very influential; and many of us are blessed with a great deal of entrepreneurial spirit, financial resources, or both. I believe we – collectively and individually – have an opportunity to do something with these gifts in our own unique way. The strength of Tuck’s alumni is renowned. Now that we’re part of it, let’s not forget that we have the power to create change, to build a community that encompasses all types of individuals, to appreciate – and even encourage – others to be different from ourselves. This is not our responsibility; but, it is our gift.

As we look forward, it’s hard not to also look back. Life now is pretty different than before Tuck – these days, my wingtips get more use than my climbing shoes and my backpack has been replaced by a briefcase. These changes hopefully will bring more opportunities to beneficially impact issues, organizations, and places about which we care. That’s what life is about.

In the end, whether we’re #16 or #1 means little. What means a great deal is that we’re Tuck. When we applied to Tuck, the admissions policy stated that this place was seeking creative, cooperative, humane, career-focused leaders who would “have the highest likelihood of making a significant positive impact on our society and its institutions.” I think the school found those people, and I am proud to count myself among you.

I thank you.