by H. Marshall Schwarz
May 11, 2002
The Milton Medal is the highest award given by Milton Academy. It is presented to the individual who is the embodiment of the Milton spirit, personifying the standards, which we all strive to achieve, as demonstrated through extraordinary service to Milton. This year, our recipient is Francis Davis Millet. Just to set the record straight, that’s the last time I’ll refer to our honoree other than as Mr. Millet.
I’ve tried, not very hard mind you, to use the first name, to use the wonderful FDM initials, but I’ve never been comfortable with other than “Mr.” It’s more formal, for sure, but it brings me back to first meeting him in the fall of 1950 when I started my association with Milton as a 13-year-old. And the use of “Mr.” shows more respect for ones elders, at least that’s how I was brought up – and there can never be too much respect for Mr. Millet.
I’m told that word was about, through the School hallways, that Mr. Millet considered not appearing on this stage today. He has, after all, spent years evading our relentless yearning to award him the Milton Medal. From our point of view, the ways to honor Mr. Millet are too few, and too inadequate. More importantly, as we all know, our honoree likes to choose the venue, and the conditions under which he’ll appear.
And who can blame him? So many words have been spoken about him over the years. It took Mr. Millet two years to send personal, calligraphied, responses to the four books-worth of messages he received on his fiftieth Milton anniversary (his first wake, as he has called it).
Ultimately, however, Mr. Millet yielded to our need, upholding those principles that are the fiber of his being: doing the honorable thing, extending care for others. He is here. This is his sixtieth year at Milton, and he will celebrate his 85th birthday in two weeks.
Mr. Millet won’t want excessive verbiage, but even skimming across the top on his role at Milton is challenging. From 1942 through this very day he has been a teacher and a coach. He has also administered in numerous capacities, but most notably in the field of admissions. For 29 years he lived in dormitories, and for 31 more he has lived on campus involved daily in the lives of students. During all this time he has been a trusted and beloved advisor, not only to his assigned advisees but also to many, many more adults and children including me and my family and many of you in the audience. And to all, he has been a friend.
He has devoted himself, with affection and firm support, to students from six full decades (and counting):
At Milton, Mr. Millet has been part of moving to coeducation, to diversifying students and faculty, to increasing international students. He has witnessed the openings of numerous buildings and shifts in patterns, policies and people. He has worked honestly and successfully with five School heads.
Reflecting on yet another change during his time, Mr. Millet used to say that he’d outlasted the typewriter and was prepared to outlast the computer. He was the first coach on campus, however, to use the Web site to spread the word about his sport. The squash team history, roster and results were blasting into cyberspace earlier than most everything else at Milton.
How has Mr. Millet amassed this enormous collective affection and admiration that he certainly did not obviously cultivate? His quiet power is rooted in deceptively simple virtues spun out consistently, over many hundreds of relationships, with tentative, growing, young people. Humble, insightful, honest, caring, witty and loyal, Mr. Millet has an uncanny ability to give students what they need – in a given moment and for a lifetime.
He did it – and still does it – in a thousand small ways: teaching squash to an unathletic novice; setting out milk and cookies in his apartment every Friday night; enduring pizza with his team; appearing at the side of the field for a word with the football coach before every game; lending a wise and calming word to a parent; giving comforting distractions to a homesick boy; singling out someone passing by for a comment, sending a hand-written card. (What fun it is to receive an envelope or postcard with that unmistakable handwriting. It always makes me smile.) A graduate from the Class of ’91 noted that what he had learned from Mr. Millet, he learned by carefully observing how Mr. Millet acts, speaks, and listens to other people.
Just as Yogi Berra said “you can observe a lot by watching”.
Interviewed ten years ago by John Charles Smith of the English department for the Graduates’ Newsletter, Mr. Millet said. “I don’t think I would have been a very good stockbroker… and obviously I couldn’t have played as much squash and stayed as reasonably healthy as I am at, whatever, 74…it’s been a good life for me…from my point of view, I couldn’t be happier.” I believe he has the same sentiments today. Nothing’s changed!
Mr. Millet, you’ve had a major impact on so many of us, and, for sure, on the life and success of Milton Academy. You have held each of us and Milton Academy to the highest standards of character and excellence, and you have rewarded us with your friendship. You honor us as we honor you with the Milton Medal.
