Stephen M. Pollan (1929-2018)
On February 11th
the life of Stephen Pollan was celebrated through the story-telling of his many
loved ones. We piled into a spartan rotunda sanctuary on a soggy mid-winter
Sunday. Each family
member blended the banter of the long holiday Pollan family table with the
intimacy of Stephen’s confidences.
Some of the jokes included madcap flights of
Stephen basking in his own oblivious regard for social conventions like routine
lawn care, daily exercise, and wearing pants. There were deadpan emails about
how “your mother and I have decided to remain together” topped off with a
“decision to adopt.” His imagination was his mantra. Self-help publishing was
his chosen industry and his go-to, primo advice? He recommended – even
commanded his flock to make something up:
“Don’t say you
don’t know!”
The unanswered
question invited a rationale to the inexplicable -- not to the wrong answer.
This strategy played out on dual tapings of CNBC programs where he volunteered
his son-in-laws as side-kicks and understudy answer men to America’s financial
concerns. One of the joys
of being at the memorial was the family's invitation to the overflow in the
gallery to contribute their own stories -- many drawn from the shared
confidences of his appointment-packed advising calendar. It was a fascination
to contrast Stephen's disdain for pecking orders, public stigmas, and peer
reviews for the multi-dimensional perspectives he offered to his clients.
At home he might
putter around in his boxers and thumb his nose at social conventions. Self-cast
in the crusader role, he revisited those arbitrary norms in his practice. Much
of his work as a professional fear remover meant cluing his clients into the
insecurities of the boss and the self-preserving nature of our employers.
He was in our
corner. He was leveling with us. What wasn't shared at the memorial were
memories of imposing Stephen, his formidable presence in that 1:1 consult, and
those classic warning signs in the alarm bells set for plan A graduates lacking
in a plan B or a credit reserve:
"Bankers
smell blood."
"Your credit
rating is your adult report card."
"You live
your life – not your job.”
Yes, that was the
first direction in the money trail: The job is for the income. Your life is
what you do with it. The inference? Confuse the two at your own peril.
I severed the
connection between career ambition and self-expression. Musings were not
bankable assets. Rather it was about counting on the wits – those
self-preserving instincts you’re told to “keep about you.” Unfinished college
writing projects were not going to pay the freight. Stephen's wake-up call
convinced me the creative portfolio was the actual baggage.
That office
consult intimacy was much better tailored to a call-in show than to
speech-making and lecturing though I feel cheated that I never saw him teach --
an idea he flirted with but don't recall him pursuing.
My bumpy
transitions and post graduate missteps are not what I remember about Stephen
office visits. Nor were the actual answers he provided or advice he gave. It
was that mental calculus in the processing between problem and solution. He
folded his hands to his chest. He leaned back in his chair, he looked up at the
ceiling as if it was an opening to his imagination, and he met your eyes with
the reassurance that he had just traveled to the exact place you needed to go.
Sometimes it was
whimsical but it was always honest ... except when he left open some wiggle
room for teasing.
"I changed
someone's life today."
"-- For the
better?" Michael would ask.
Michael and I
shared an appreciation of a uniquely Stephen-ESQUE superpower on the day before
he died. I was rummaging through emails on the train ride into see him, Corky,
and the family that day when I came upon a message from the early aughts. In
one post he declaring his enormous pride in the achievement of a client I
neither knew of or of the actual accomplishment. What struck me was just how
personally he had invested in this person, as if their fortunes were entwined.
It's hard to
imagine in these hedging and tentative times that someone could be so unguarded
in their giving and so fulfilled by it. Stephen gave to causes and many of them
were the people whose lives he touched. They showed up as anecdotes in the
chapters of the books he wrote with Mark Levine. They were revealed in his big
picture understanding of our need for approval, recognition, and most
importantly, love. And those folks formed a collective band across the rotunda,
a band of love on full display for this memorial and times to come.
Dwelling in these
remembrances I recall the unchanneled warmth and affection he lavished on his
family and close associates with the measured and watchful guidance he gave me
in more formative times. In one sense they are two sides of the same kindness – a generosity we all embrace.
In more recent times I would imagine that my brother’s sons had a very different experience when they sought that same signature guidance.
Stephen had changed our lives and we all understood how that had changed his – all for the better.
References:
- The Vineyard Gazette
- Go See Your Uncle Stephen
- Go Head, Spends Kids' Inheritance Saus NY Power Guru Stephen Pollan
- Unconventional Advice You Need to Hear
