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Conversations in Management

Walt Whitman

I have learned that to be with those I like is enough.

Most of us probably first learned of Walt Whitman and his classic volume, Leaves of Grass, in a High School English class. But given the stature of poetry in American Pop culture, few of us are likely to recollect much of the experience. Part of the problem is that Whitman has become an iconic character on our national stage. We know the general outline of his life—first internationally acclaimed American poet, chronicler of the Civil War, spokesman for the American spirit—but little else. Many folks would be surprised to learn, for example, that his definitive work was actually written over a span of 26 years. When Leaves of Grass first appeared in print in 1855 it was a scant 95 pages and included just 12 poems. Over the years, Whitman continued to edit and expand the work through a series of new editions. By the time he published the final edition in 1882, the collection had grown by several hundred pages and contained a total of 293 poems! These included his two popular elegies to Abraham Lincoln: O Captain! My Captain! and, When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d. More surprising, still, is that these two poems were written when Whitman was on the federal payroll. That’s right; one of America’s most famed poets was a bureaucrat (which puts a new twist on the old adage, “Good enough for government work”). Unlike many writers, Whitman needed a day job to support his art. He had quit his newspaper job after learning that his brother had been wounded in the Battle of Fredericksburg. After locating his brother, Whitman stayed on as a hospital volunteer while looking for paid employment. He went about finding a job the old fashioned way—through influence and connections! Armed with letters of recommendation from prominent citizens, including Ralph Waldo Emerson—already an icon in his own right—Whitman secured a part-time position as a copyist with the Army Paymaster. By 1865 his career was well underway and he was working full-time in the Department of the Interior’s Bureau of Indian Affairs. Alas, the good times proved brief. Like many workers before and since, he lost his job when a new boss came along and launched an “efficiency” initiative. It didn’t help either, that the new boss, Secretary James Harlan, had been a Professor of Mental and Moral Science and found Leaves of Grass a bit salacious. Yet, the magic of connections once again manifested itself and he found a new home with the Attorney General. All the while he continued writing magnificent poetry and gaining international fame.

Generally speaking, the people working with Whitman didn’t view him as a celebrity, an icon or anything other than the guy working in the next 19^th century version of a cubicle. That’s often the way it is with us today. We might spend eight or more hours a day with folks that we really don’t know much about. We draw our conclusions about them from what they do on the premises, but have only a sketchy notion of who they really are. It’s really a shame. We don’t make business decisions on such scanty knowledge, but we’re willing to judge others on the basis of very little information indeed. Granted, some folks prefer to remain ciphers, but many more enjoy sharing their passions, interests and lives.

Everybody has a story and everyone’s life is bigger than their job. If you take time to learn those stories, you’ll find there’s a lot to like about the people who occupy your days. And when you like the folks you work with you’ll discover that it’s quite enough.

—Ebert