Month: March 2018

Don was my LFM thesis advisor back in 1991 but I remember him much more as a mentor than as an academic advisor. He was jovial and warm and enjoyed spending time with students even outside the classroom. I remember going to Nashville with him and several other students in 1991 to present some manufacturing research we had done together at an Operations Research conference. I was nervous. The day before the presentations, we all went to the Grand Ole Opry for a night of country music. As music acts alternated with on-stage ads for snake-skin boots and cheap charcoal on sale down at the local Piggly Wiggly, the anxiety melted away. It was all too funny to take the next day too seriously. A wonderful memory of a wonderful man.

In May 2013 when I arrived in Cambridge for the alum reunion it had been a few years since I had seen Don. Coming from the airport I was arriving a bit late and the panel discussion regarding the origins of the Leaders For Manufacturing program had already started in E51-115. I decided to sneak in through the small door at the back of the very packed auditorium. I went up the stairs and gently opened the door just enough to slide in. Don was speaking but the movement caught his eye, he looked up and without hesitation said ‘Brian, great to see you, welcome’ and resumed whatever he had been saying. It could have been me or any one of us thousand alums, Don had a place for each one of us. He committed himself heart and soul to a vision he cared deeply about and he will always be an inspiration for a life well lived.

In 1990, David Weber must have been in charge of making what is now known as the “Don call,” because I vividly remember receiving the call from Dave while sitting at work one Friday afternoon. He congratulated me and said I had been accepted to Sloan and the Leaders for Manufacturing Program (LFM), and that they had sent my letter and information via FedEx. The next morning, I received a large overstuffed envelope with my acceptance letter to the Sloan School and the Materials Science Department. The only catch was that I had applied to Sloan and the Mechanical Engineering Department. The envelope was filled with brochures about studying diamonds and carbon and I remember thinking that this was all well and good, but I had absolutely no interest in studying this. I looked through the degree requirements, read and re-read the letters, and hoped upon hope that there had just been a mix-up in the mailing. On the other hand, I was concerned that maybe if there had been a mix-up, I hadn’t really been accepted to the LFM program at all. I couldn’t imagine that I had been accepted to a different department by mistake.

Because it was Saturday, I had to wait until Monday until I could reach anyone at MIT; that was a long weekend. Monday morning, I called Don and explained that I had been accepted to a department to which I hadn’t applied and that I thought there had been a mistake. I remember Don kind of laughing and saying that there had not been a mistake… Unfortunately, I had been rejected from the Mechanical Engineering Department. BUT, he had thought I would be a good addition to the LFM program and that my application might be interesting to Materials Science. So, he had taken it upon himself to ask Materials Science if he could send my application to them. They had agreed to accept me, and he thought I should come to MIT and LFM. He suggested I speak with Prof. Tom Eager, Chair of Materials Science. Prof. Eager was fabulous and encouraged me to enroll and join LFM. And, while he loved Materials Science, explained that if I wanted to transfer once I was at MIT, if my grades were good enough, I could do so.

I decided to take everyone’s advice and began at MIT as a Materials Science student. Eventually, I transferred to Mechanical Engineering, and ironically and in large part because of those initial conversations, ended up working with Prof. Eager on my thesis. In the end, I graduated with a Mechanical Engineering degree and a Materials Science advisor. If it were not for Don and his enthusiasm for the program and students like me, I don’t think I would ever have gotten into MIT, and definitely not into Mechanical Engineering! Don and I laughed about this for a long time.

It was on one of our trips to Shanghai to visit the China Leaders for Global Operations program. Don and I found ourselves without anything to do one evening, and he suggested that we go out for dumplings at his favorite dumpling shop. Don ALWAYS knew great restaurants, so if he said this was the best dumpling shop in Shanghai, I believed him. We started out trying to find a taxi. It was lightly misting, and any rain makes it difficult to get a cab in Shanghai. Of course, Don knew Shanghai really well, and he suggested that we take off walking and see if we could get a cab along the way. No luck on the cab. But for over an hour, we wound our way toward the dumpling shop, just talking and enjoying the time together. We did get to the shop, and there was a line, but we patiently waited, and then enjoyed some really great dumplings. There was a gentle side to Don, and that’s what I experienced that night. It was my favorite time with him and the one I remember with a smile.

I think many people at MIT had a similar experience with Don – direct, unassuming, brilliant. I had the privilege of co-advising 5 projects with Don at Pratt & Whitney, Dell, and Caterpillar, and in my first years of teaching at MIT, Don was very much a mentor to me. I ran into Don for the last time a couple months ago at the symphony, and he was as personable as ever – inquiring how work at MIT was going, how often we go to the BSO, and then jetting off. For someone as senior as Don, I always felt I had his undivided attention, and I suspect that’s part of what made him such a great leader and advisor to many at MIT. My favorite Don story is his cafeteria stock price predictions. We were on a trip to visit a partner company, and he wasn’t particularly happy with the food. He argued that you could predict a company’s stock price based on the quality of its cafeteria food, as a proxy for its investment in people. I never saw a spreadsheet, but I never doubted that the calculation existed somewhere on a yellow legal pad.

Don was the faculty adviser on China Trip in early ’94. One of our visits was to Beijing Jeep, one of the oldest JVs (even by then) between China and a US company. It was not a well-run manufacturing site to say the least and – no surprise – the poor operations bothered Don. A lot. I have this clear memory of him pointing to a pile of rusting parts in the middle of the floor saying, “You want to know what Work in Process inventory looks like? THAT is Work in Process inventory.” In 1999, I was consulting to an electric motor manufacturer in the South. They had a pile of rejects near the front door – a (rather ineffectual) tactic of the general manager to shame workers into producing higher quality. It bothered me – a lot – and I heard Don’s voice in my head: THAT is Work in Process inventory.

When I think about Don, it always makes me smile. What I carry from our frequent interactions over 10+ years, he as LFM/LGO director and I as Sloan career director, is Don’s perspective making things better…often by reminding me to find the humor in everyday (work) life. His smile and the twinkle in his eye will stay with me for the rest of my life.

For many of us, Don Rosenfield was and is LFM/LGO. Don made a profound impact on a university, an industry, and a community of people dedicated to and passionate about making the world a better place. We are part of his legacy. On a personal level, I am grateful for Don’s coaching and gentle guidance. I am a better leader and a better person because of what I learned from Don.

I don’t think that I have a story that comes to mind, like others have. However, what I remember about Don is that he embodied, for me, all that was LGO, and to an extent, all that is MIT. Many professors come and go; many administrators come and go. However, certain people are part of the very fabric of the program, and those people are few and special. Don Rosenfield was in that group. Don WAS LGO – in the classroom, in his office, on the plant tours, and in the many alumni events and conferences afterwards. I’m glad that, during his retirement, I felt that there was an “O Captain, my captain” moment, when those of us who were there could let him know how important he was.

I have the fondest memory of Don. He has been a great colleague a great asset to Sloan and MIT in general. He always went above and beyond what was asked of him. I remember particularly well when I taught an LGO course for the first time and how Don was supporting me in every possible way. I also loved running into him at ski slopes. He was an avid skier. I always admired his physical fitness and I could only wish to have that level of fitness and skiing ability at his age! We will miss him greatly!

In March of 2000, Don and I accompanied a group of MBA students on a study tour to Japan and Korea. Touring factories with Don there to ask questions is a treat, but I had the extra privilege of accompanying Don on a quest for some new headphones in Tokyo. He was the proverbial kid in a candy store, leading me through all the cutting edge electronics stores of Akihabara where he must have tried on a dozen different headphones. By the end of our whirlwind tour I was overwhelmed with product knowledge and points of comparison – and Don had found the PERFECT pair of headphones. This experience became the foundation of a friendship that lasted almost two decades, and just last year when I saw Don he reminded me of that Tokyo adventure when he pulled up the picture of our travel group from his lovingly curated and enormous gallery of memories.

Don had an incredible memory that always astounded me. Every time I saw him at an alumni gathering, he remembered unbelievable details about my family or work or internship, the year I graduated, even some facts that I had forgotten. And, then he’d turn to the next person and ask about a very specific event or relationship in their life. It was like that for every alum without exception. I was always amazed…

My first exposure to Don was very different than most. I was in the Navy and applied to the LFM (the name back then) program and selected aerospace engineering as my engineering major even though my undergraduate degree was in electrical engineering because I was flying for the Navy and thought I wanted to work for a defense contractor after graduating. I was admitted to Sloan and was called by a student encouraging me attend Sloan. The person didn’t make it clear they were a student and I asked if I had also been accepted to the LFM program and they said I had been. I was so excited!

The next day I called my superiors in the Navy to tell them I wanted to get out early to attend MIT. Despite the fact that the military was in the middle of a major reduction in force and they had paid many friends of mine to get out early, I was told I could not get out one year early. I was crushed and called the LFM office to see if I could defer my acceptance for one year. It was a very awkward call and I was told Don would call me back (I had never spoken to him before). He called later that day and I asked me who had told me I was admitted to the LFM program? I explained that I wasn’t sure of the person’s name, but they had called me the day before. Don was incredibly gracious and informed me I actually hadn’t been accepted to the program because I had applied to the aerospace engineering department. He encouraged me to defer my Sloan acceptance and reapply to the LFM program as an electrical engineer. Fortunately, I followed his advice and was thrilled one year later when I received the “Don call” most people remember so vividly.