A Private Man In Public Life

Franklin A. Thomas would be the last person to tell you what an amazing man he is. You could spend hours talking to him and he probably would forget to tell you he was the president of the Ford Foundation for 15 years, that he has spearheaded programs to improve race relations in South Africa and advised the United Nations on his findings, that he is the recipient of the Lyndon Baines Johnson Award for Contributions to the Betterment of Urban Life, the John Jay Award from Columbia College, Columbia Universitys Medal of Excellence, and the NAACPs National Equal Justice award, that he has been granted honorary degrees from Yale University, Pace University, Columbia University, Pratt Institute and Fordham University, and that he was the star of the Columbia University basketball team some decades ago. The spotlight has been following Thomas for many years while he tries to slip backstage.

Herb Cutlow, Thomas' teammate on the Lions basketball team in the early 1950s shared a classic story of what he calls "Frank's behind the scenes attitude." It was typical then for college basketball teams to play tournaments over the Christmas and New Year holidays, as it is today. Each year when the Columbia basketball team played in these tournaments, Thomas would send flowers to Cutlow's girlfriend, Carol, who later became Cutlow's wife. Sounds a little sneaky, until Cutlow adds that Thomas would sign the cards Love, Herb."

"Frank did this unbeknownst to me for almost 15 years," explains Cutlow, a stockbroker for Smith Barney in California. "I guess he thought it was something I should be doing for Carol. He has been that way with everything from his basketball days to his work calm, collected, unselfish and thoughtful," according to Cutlow.

It was an attitude he learned at an early age. Thomas, who stands at about 6 foot 4 inches tall, was always a little taller than his peers, and often was picked to play basketball with the older kids on the playgrounds of New York City. They realized that he could get rebounds and grab loose balls, but because he was young he wouldnt demand the ball or try to take a lot of shots. They used him as a young "workhorse", Thomas explained.

For Thomas and the others kids growing up in Brooklyn's Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood, athletics became a part of their lives early on. Stoopball and stickball were common games that required little equipment and could be played easily on the streets of New York in the 1940s. Thomas discovered basketball at the after-school programs offered by the public schools in the area. He would sit and watch while trying to learn the strategy and nuances of the new game. When he figured he had a good idea of its objectives, the youngster picked up a ball and played. The idea of organizing and playing on teams was born in these public school gymnasiums and spread to the numerous park department playgrounds in the area. Unlike most 10-year-olds Thomas was playing with, he found much more than fun and social opportunities on those playgrounds. It seems that nothing can be just a game for Frank Thomas. Everything is about lessons, learning and life.

"[Basketball] combined the need and desire to exercise and vent energy and learning a skill," Thomas said in a recent interview. "It was great - the growing, maturing, camaraderie of teams. You learned the basics about time on task and that it takes a lot of work to be good at something. It is a satisfying experience to see progress in your abilities."

Basketball stayed with Thomas through school and into his collegiate days. In 1952, he entered nearby Columbia University, where he later became the starting center for the Lions basketball team. Although he was never a superstar named to the all-Ivy or all-America teams, Thomas was a good team player and he still holds two school records for rebounding. His 1954-55 single-season record of 408 still holds the number-one spot and his career record of 1,022 is unsurpassed. He was so highly regarded that his teammates selected him as their captain in his senior season, the first African-American in the history of Columbia athletics to earn that honor. In his sophomore season, he earned the spot as the starting center, a job that he took very seriously.

"At the time, all of the games were broadcast locally and all of the major newspapers in the area took an interest in the team," remembered the Columbia graduate. "I was just 18 or 19 years old and I felt an enormous responsibility had been placed on me as the starting center, following a center like Jack Molinas and others who established themselves as great athletes. It was such a mix of joy, fear and excitement as I started the season."

A member of the 1955 Ivy tri-champion squad that posted an 11-5 record, Thomas often was reminded that his skin was dark. But it isnt surprising that the story Thomas shared about his collegiate experiences is a positive one. This man never reached success by feeling slighted.

"I remember when we went to play West Virginia University down in Morgantown and the feeling of realizing I was the only one of color on the floor," Thomas says with the excitement of a father reading a bedtime story to his child. "I looked out at the gym filled with fans from Morgantown and if there was a face of color in the crowd, I didn't see it. Maybe I was reading too much into things, but I thought the people there seemed supportive and aware it must have been an especially tough position for me."

Thomas' teammate Cutlow relates a different memory of the West Virginia game. According to Cutlow, Thomas was not allowed to eat in the hotel dining room where the team was staying for the night. So, the entire Columbia team ate in their rooms that night in support of their captain.

Following graduation in 1956 and a stint in the R.O.T.C., Thomas entered the Air Force, where he climbed to the status of first lieutenant. His career with the military looked promising and secure, but Thomas still felt the need to fulfill his childhood dreams of being able to help others and protect himself. He made this decision early on when his mother made a deposit on a house with an unscrupulous real estate group. She and several other people never saw their houses or their money.

"I remember feeling so powerless and wanting to never be in that position again," said Thomas in a soothing deep voice. "I was just a kid but I felt one thing you have to know is the law."

All of the childhood stories Thomas relates create a picture of this 40-year-old man living in the body of an elementary school kid. Perhaps he possessed this incredible maturity and vision because of the difficulties he encountered early in life. When Thomas was just 11 years old, he lost his brother to pneumonia and his father was near death from a stroke. It was his strong-willed mother, a native of Barbados who raised him and his four sisters, who pushed him to follow his dreams and find success. Those childhood dreams would lead him back to the Columbia campus.

When Thomas told his commander and other officers of his plans to leave the Air Forces Strategic Command division for law school, they tried to dissuade the first lieutenant from leaving.

"They said I would spend all of the money I had saved on school and go into debt," said Thomas of his military counterparts. "And if I was successful, they said my first job out of law school would pay less than I was making at the time. That was all true," he said with laugh.

However, one officer reacted differently to Thomas plan and said something that he still remembers four decades later.

This guy said to me, "the fruits of life are on the branches. If you want the fruits of life you have to go out and take risks," recounted Thomas. "He was right. Law was everything I ever hoped. It gave me personal satisfaction and the opportunity to help others."

Thomas realized that life was about risks and this was one he could not risk not taking. In 1960, he returned to New York City and commuted from Brooklyn to Columbia for law school. After graduating in 1963, Thomas passed up several offers from top-notch law firms and accepted a job as an attorney for the Federal Housing and Home Finance Agency. He always had an interest in housing issues and considered pursuing civil engineering before deciding on law school. He believed law school would give him the chance to work in almost any arena.

In 1964, just a year later, Thomas was named assistant U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York. In a matter of months, he was offered the opportunity to serve as the New York City's deputy police commissioner in charge of legal matters. Thomas' peers were convinced that the upcoming mayoral election would bring a new mayor, who would ask the current district attorney to leave. They believed that Thomas would be a logical choice as a replacement.

It seemed logical to Thomas too, but the words of the Air Force officer pushed him out on the limb again. He left for the job with the police department days before the election. Sure enough what all of his peers predicted did happen, but Thomas says the time with the police commissioner's office "turned out to be an extraordinary period of growth."

"The first time I made a proposal to Howard Leary, the commander, he just signed it without even looking at it," recalls Thomas. "I was used to having three and four people review and change my proposals. I had made a quantum leap in personal and professional growth - I was the final decision point. That meant a great deal of responsibility."

When the Bedford-Stuyvesant Restoration Corporation was formed in 1967, Thomas couldnt help but get his feet wet with the matter. Instead he got neck deep into the project and dedicated the next 10 years of his life to the neighborhood where he was born and raised.

Your family and friends have aspirations for you that you would get out of the community and go on to something better, explained Thomas with a short deep chuckle. "The thought of starting on that track and deliberately going back to the community..." he stops and reflects.

"I thought it would be for two years originally and it ended up being 10. But it was one of the best interludes of my career," he continued. "During this time I formed the basis for a number of relationships that influence my life choices and ideas."

Thomas' time with the Corporation was equally satisfying for those on the other side of the restoration project. Rather then cave into frustrations and federal red-tape policies, Thomas stuck with the project and brought a community on the downward spiral back to solid ground. He is credited with creating 123 new businesses, 3,330 jobs and more than 1,200 housing units. He designed a model for reviving and sustaining communities that were written off in previous cases. The Bed-Sty restoration became the inspiration for thousands of other community revitalization programs in the U.S. and abroad.

"It is amazing that ideas nurtured in a community in Brooklyn could be applied globally," said Thomas. "I got to meet and interact with people and help enhance their life. What was considered a detour opened an even larger world to me. Once again, its about taking risks," said the man who became the Corporation's president before his departure."

Two years after leaving the Bedford-Stuyvesant project, Thomas was elected the Ford Foundation president. He left private practice to become the first African-American president of the influential philanthropic organization created in 1936 by Henry Ford. During his 17-year presidential rein, Thomas focused on putting more money in the hands of local groups that worked directly with their own problems. He made significant improvements in the areas of education, health issues and urban and rural poverty. Thomas also focused on international programs and set up new offices in a number of countries, including South Africa. He also gave the Foundation a strong financial base, increasing its endowment nearly threefold to about $6 billion.

"Frank came to the foundation when the world around it had changed tremendously," said Susan Berresford, the Foundation's current president and the vice president under Thomas' presidency. "He had to completely rethink the organizational structure of the foundation. Frank totally re-conceived the structure to make it global - not just the domestic U.S. programs and the overseas programs. He brought them both together."

His efforts were recognized by many prestigious organizations, including his alma mater. In 1983 Thomas was named a Alexander Hamilton Medal recipient. He joined the company of Dwight Eisenhower, Allan Nevins, Oscar Hammerstein and William J. (Wild Bill) Donovan as a recipient of Columbia's highest alumni honor.

Thomas has a reputation for refusing awards and honors and his efforts to outrun the spotlight were once again visible at the Hamilton Medal acceptance dinner. His speech tiptoed around his accomplishments and focused more on his former teammates who were in the audience.

"Here this guy is receiving a major honor at a black-tie ceremony and he is talking about me and how he always had to get me out of trouble," said Cutlow.

Since leaving the Ford Foundation, Thomas has remained deeply entrenched in public issues and race relations. He has served as a consultant for various organizations on the issue of race relations in the U.S., Brazil and South Africa and he has advised the United Nations on his findings.

As long as he thinks he can make a difference, Thomas will continue to work. Retirement does not seem like a word that could fit into the vocabulary of this private man so wrapped up in public life.

-- Erica Hurtt

***Please note, this story was written for a previous Ivy League Black History Month celebration. It is reproduced here for archival purposes and has not been updated.***