Eulogy: Frank Landy
Rick Jacobs
Kylie asked me to do the eulogy. I am grateful to be the one and deeply honored, but you should know I have little faith in my ability to make it through what I have written on these pages without breaking down. Can’t you just hear Frank’s voice saying, “Hey let’s do a lottery. Everyone give me a dollar, come on, come on give it to me, here’s mine. Now everyone pick a number corresponding to the word where Rick falls apart. I’m taking 3, the 3rd word and no one is allowed to pick 1 or 2.” Can’t you just hear him? The bet—the rules—the sense of urgency, it is all so Frank. Bear with me as I struggle through this.
Kylie lost her husband, Erin and Betsy lost their Dad, Maryanne and Chris lost their brother. Nieces, nephews, and grandchildren all lost someone they love. What brings us all together—the common bond everyone here shares—is we lost our dear friend. We have lost someone who has been an important part of our life. We are all here to remember our friend and celebrate the gifts he gave us. My job is to help that process along with my recollections and thoughts. I have so many memories with Frank it is hard to settle on the ones that best capture his spirit and what he meant to me, and the ones that will help all of us think about the sunny days we had with him.
Frank and I were best friends for a long, long time. We shared so much over the past 31 years. We raised families together, we dealt with challenges in our personal lives together, we literally ran thousands and thousands of miles together, summer after summer we sat on the beach in Maine together, we traveled the world together, we wrote papers together, we met with clients together, we built a business together, we sold that business together, about 2 years ago we even fought against each other as experts in a fair employment case in Massachusetts but in a strange way I felt we did it together. Together we created very comfortable lives. Together we had enough fun for four or five people.
Just to balance the picture we also did really stupid things together like ran marathons, traveled on small private airplanes through thunderstorms, climbed mountains with lightning striking all around us, and we battled university administrators. Oh my, talk about stupidity and wasting our time, what were we thinking? We did all of this together, a two-person team, we were a good team, we helped each other in so many ways, and we accomplished so many good things that I know neither of us would have done individually. I already miss my teammate.
Frank was a remarkable individual and remarkable individuals are not just born, they are nurtured and they are supported. Frank had a great deal of support from everyone here in this room. I don’t mean to slight anyone by leaving them out but I do want to talk about the four women in his life I know best. Ann and Frank shared their lives for a long time earlier in Frank’s career. Many of us know Ann well. She is gracious, she is accomplished, and I am proud that she is my friend. Ann and I conspired on Frank’s 40th birthday to get him out of the house so lots of people could come in for a surprise party. He was expecting me to come over and watch a bowl game. I called and told him that on my way over to their place I stopped at the university to pick something up, and when I got back in the car, it wouldn’t start. I needed a jump. Fifteen minutes later Frank pulled into the parking lot looking very, very angry. When he got out of his car he glared at me, we have all seen “the look,” and said, “All the (expletive deleted) money we are making and you can’t afford an (expletive deleted again) battery.” He was not happy. Then in typical Frank fashion he took charge. We connected his battery to mine and I went through the unnecessary motions. We started my car and he said, “I’m going to follow you and make sure nothing is really wrong with your car.” I saw this as another opportunity to make sure everyone got in the house for the surprise. I drove really slowly. I’m not sure anyone here has been in the position of forcing Frank to drive slowly. It wasn’t pretty. I kept looking in the rearview mirror. He was really, really unhappy. Of course the rest of the night was grand. Frank loved his party. I loved spending time with Frank and Ann, they made me part of their family.
Of course during that same time I got to know two little girls, Erin and Betsy, Frank and Ann’s two wonderful daughters. They are remarkable women now, and when I spend time with them it is hard to believe how much they have grown, how accomplished they have become, and how successful they have been in taking Frank’s best characteristics and merging them with all they bring to this world. They are almost like a softer Frank. Erin, you were the English major, isn’t that the perfect example of an oxymoron, a softer Frank? They visited Jen and me this past November, and it was almost like having pieces of Frank there with us. Erin and Betsy love Frank so very much and Frank loved them back in equal measure. As time moves on and parents age we see that switch in family roles, Frank was there for Erin and Betsy as they grew up and more recently they were there for Frank. I loved talking with Frank and watching him light up when Erin or Betsy came into the conversation.
Frank would have loved the e-mail I got from Betsy on Thursday. She said she was going to ask me during this eulogy to ask all of you to pray for Frank’s speedy entrance into heaven. She said she thought about it but realized Frank had departed about 48 hours earlier, and even if had been asked to wait, by now he would have argued his way in. I can hear him laughing with pride over Betsy’s sense of humor.
I am at a loss for words when it comes to describing Kylie. She and Frank were truly meant for each other. They shared passions for reading and learning, for travel and debate, for exotic food and far off adventures, and most importantly for friends and family. When Frank first introduced me to Kylie I believe I was kinder to Kylie than he was to my wife, Jennifer. Just an aside, when Frank and Jen first met, he smiled at her and said, “Hurt my friend and I’ll kill you.” True story but that was Frank always looking out for me. Back to Kylie, I didn’t know what to make of her, this beautiful, opinionated, and charming woman from far, far away. I did know that Frank was happy and very much in love. That was all I really needed to know. Kylie and Frank, Jen and I became great friends. Believe it or not, we spent part of their honeymoon together. We had a great time in Arizona. We hiked, we hung out by the pool, we had fabulous meals, and we played poker for an hour every night, of course Frank kept score. Jen won the three-day tournament because I forgot to tell her Frank does not lose easily, my bad. Frank was not happy about the poker setback, anyone here surprised? I didn’t think so. He got over it. We have built on that friendship over the years. I have come to realize that Frank is always around truly remarkable women. The more time I spend with Kylie the more I learn and the more I admire her. For so many of us Frank has been our rock. For the past few years Kylie has been Frank’s rock. She loves Frank deeply, completely, and as a community of friends and family we will be her rock moving forward.
It is not easy to find the best way to remember Frank but I will try by putting it in the context of a topic that was near and dear to him, his career in psychology. First and foremost, Frank was a student of our discipline. Of course he was a luminary in our field, a true giant of industrial psychology. I have heard from many of our colleagues over the past week, and they use phrases like a leader in our field, a major force, a massive influence on the entire field of psychology, and we will never see another like him.
He was a first-rate educator with students who consider it an honor to have studied with him and many more who wish they had that opportunity. Even after he left this world, just this past week, he taught me something. As I wrote these words he taught me a new skill. I can now compose, type, laugh, and cry all at the same time. What a teacher.
He was an incredible consultant who solved very difficult problems for his clients. Many of those problems were extremely complex, involving psychology, physiology, and the law. These are ways he will be remembered by most but to me he was always first and foremost a student, always studying, always learning, always finding unique relationships among concepts, and always encouraging others to do the same, to think broadly and to think in ways that challenged established thinking. He motivated me and so many of our colleagues. He caused everyone around him to think in new and innovative ways. His work and the work he inspired pushed our field forward and made so many of us better at our profession.
I like thinking of Frank as the insatiable student and as someone who is best described in terms of concepts frequently found in the study of psychology: HEAD, HEART, and SPIRIT.
Why not start at the top? Frank was smart. He was very, very smart. He wrote text books and he organized topics in our field in ways that no one else could. His articles were numerous, insightful, and impactful. Today students in graduate programs around the world read his books and papers. The papers they read are filled with fresh ideas even though some were written over 25 years ago. He testified in front of Congress, he influenced national policy, he helped shape fair employment law, and he gave talks that made colleagues think in new and different ways.
Frank was controversial in his views, but those views were always well supported. He was well-versed in industrial psychology of course but also in topics ranging from developmental psychology to medicine, from business to politics, whether those politics were part of the U.S. scene or from a foreign country. He could speak multiple languages. His head was truly that of a scholar. He was not only smart, he helped others to become smarter. He knew a lot, and even when he was uncertain, you would never know it.
One day Jim Farr, Frank, and I were meeting with our graduate students. We were talking about a survey research project the program was working on, and one of the students asked, “What response rate do you think we will get?” Frank didn’t hesitate; he said “26.2%.” Jim and I looked at each other and we were pretty surprised. At lunch time Frank and I headed over to the gym to go for our run and I asked about the 26.2% figure and where it came from. His answer, “I made it up.” Unashamed, unapologetic, he said they wanted an answer. Wouldn’t you know it about 6 months later in one of our journals there is an article on survey characteristics and their impact on response rates. What it showed was that given the characteristics of our survey the expected response rate was about 26%. Frank had a copy of the journal in his hand the day it came out, brought it up to my office, and said “I was right.” Frank was a very, very smart guy, he knew a lot, and even when he didn’t really know, somehow he knew.
What about the heart? Frank cared. His heart was huge although much of the time he didn’t want us to know how much he really cared. He never stopped caring. Even in his final days, he reached out to others to provide support and comfort. A dear friend of ours lost his son a few months ago and in spite of Frank’s own decline in functioning he spent time consoling that friend. In the best of times and in times that were more difficult, I always knew if there was anything I really needed he would be there. I knew that in my times of need he could be counted on for a hug, kind words, and good advice. He gave those things freely to all his friends.
One day over 20 years ago Frank and I met on the golf course for our daily run. As usual we were talking about a host of topics as we reeled off the miles when he asked what was going on with my parents in California. I told him that my Dad’s 70th birthday was coming up in a couple of weeks. When he asked when are you leaving, I proceeded to tell him about how I couldn’t go because I had a client meeting in Pittsburgh and a talk to give in Philadelphia. He listened patiently, said he would do both for me, and I should go west and be with my family. I declined and he simply said, “Great go to your dad’s next 70th birthday.” I asked if he would really do my work given his busy schedule, and he of course said yes and then added the great Groucho Marx line, “aside from the improvement no one will notice the difference.” My dad’s 70th birthday party was unbelievable. My dad is now 92, and he is remembering less and less as time moves forward, but he never forgets this story and Frank’s kindness, Frank’s big, big heart.
Frank’s heart was always open and he was always willing to help. His actions spoke to his level of caring, he often used his words to mask how much he really cared but we all know he cared deeply and the words were just Frank being Frank. He loved to help others and we are all grateful for that heart that he shared with us.
Frank’s spirit was multifaceted. Frank was curious, adventuresome and daring. One day Frank and I met at the Columbus airport. We had work there the next day, and we were both coming off of a tough couple of days on the road at different client sites. I got the sense he was tired and just needed some quiet time. We got into a cab and wouldn’t you know it the cabbie wanted to talk. I did my best to answer and try to minimize the chatter. He asked what we were doing in town, and I told him we were going to be working with the police department. The cab driver said, “I hate the cops and they hate me.” That was it, Frank had to join in. He responded, “Do you think they hate you because you drive a cab, because you’re Black, or because you’re fat?” Frank claims he saw me reach for the door handle even though we were on the highway going in excess of 60. The poor cabbie didn’t know what to make of Frank but then he looked into his rearview mirror, smiled and said, “You know I’m not sure, never thought about it that way, but now that you mention it could be all three.” To this day I cannot believe how Frank could make people smile while they explored new ideas.
He took chances, he liked to challenge conventional thinking and he loved to see others do something new and exciting. He was great at shaking things up. It wasn’t interesting to Frank unless there was something new, something different, something exciting—better if it was really on the edge. In an earlier time I think Frank would have been part of the Lewis and Clark expedition but of course then it would have been the Landy, Lewis, and Clark expedition. Frank loved his adventures and he loved retelling the stories of those adventures, it was his way of inspiring others to have their own. I loved Frank’s spirit for life, his ability to laugh at himself, and for helping others see the funnier side of their own actions. He was a model of what can be great when it comes to the human spirit. That spirit lives on in my memories and my stories of Frank. I truly hope a part of his spirit is finding its way into my own.
I moved to Bellefonte in 1979 to begin my job as a professor at Penn State. Moving day was in the summer and it was hot and sticky. This was about 6 months after my first trip to the area to see if I liked the place and if the place liked me. That worked out. During my January visit I asked Frank about the summertime humidity in Pennsylvania since I grew up on the west coast and really didn’t like walking around dripping wet. He told me that because of the unique location, the mountains, the valley, and the cool breezes, it was really not humid. We have all been there once; he gets on a roll, he tells a really believable story. The day I moved in I was covered in sweat. Frank called and asked how it was going, did I need any help? The answers were things were going well, they were under control, but I was hot and sticky and thought I remembered him telling me there was no humidity in Centre County. Of course his answer was simple, “I lied, I was worried you wouldn’t take the job if I told you all summer you would sweat like a pig,” his exact words, I remember them vividly. He loved people, he loved life, and he loved to make life more fun for those around him.
Frank’s spirit also shines through in my favorite running story. We were out for a long run late in winter toward early spring. We were in a remote area about 6 miles into it and we both heard a loud noise on this isolated, narrow trail. Neither of us said a word for another 3 miles, which is pretty unusual for us, downright rare for Frank. Finally Frank broke the silence and said, “Did you hear that noise a while back?” I said “YES, that horse noise?” He said, “NO, the bear noise.” I said, “I was really scared.” He said, “I wasn’t” and then told me a story. There was this city slicker and this professor—they were friends from childhood but went their separate ways after high school. Regularly they would get together and go for walks in the forest. One day they were walking and arguing as they always did about what was more important, basic knowledge or street smarts. The professor always concluded that knowing basics was critical while the city slicker said it was a lot of nonsense and you had to know how to handle yourself in real-world situations. They argued and argued that day until they came upon a bear standing on the path ahead. The city slicker calmly sat down on a log, removed his hiking boots, took his running shoes out of his backpack and started to put them on his feet. The professor said, “See, since you don’t know any basics you don’t even know that you can’t out run a bear, bears are faster than humans.” The city slicker smiled and said, “It really doesn’t matter, all I have to do is out run you.” Frank looked at me and said, “The reason I wasn’t scared when we heard the bear back there is I can always out run you.” He had a story for every occasion and those stories always showed his spirit for fun, adventure and helping others enjoy life.
By now it should be obvious I love Frank; I always will. I remember sitting on the beach in Maine with someone else who loved him, his mom, Kitty. Kitty and I were enjoying a very sunny day at Goose Rocks just chatting away and having a great afternoon. At one point Kitty got very serious, her eyes got very animated, she put her hand on my arm and said, “Thank you for being such a good friend to Francis.” It was serious when Kitty said Francis. My comment was simple; I said, “It isn’t easy.” As was Kitty’s way she could out do you without even trying, her response was even simpler, all she said was “I know.” Really, Frank’s friendship was a bright light in my wonderful life, a life that would not have been nearly as wonderful without him.
I thought I would close by asking those who have a good Frank story to come forward and share it with the group. I decided against it because all of us have so many great Frank stories and I don’t think we have the church for the next 48 hours. That was part of his magic—he always left you with a FRANK STORY, from now on I am going to refer to mine as PERFECTLY FRANK STORIES.
Speaking of PERFECTLY FRANK STORIES, you should hear the ones I didn’t include. Writing this was truly my adventure. So many things I wrote I had to take out because they lacked tact, sensitivity, or taste and many lacked all three. What else would we expect after 30 plus years with Frank?
I know many of us share the feeling that Frank has blessed us with wisdom and laughter, with a sense of adventure, and with the knowledge that anything is possible if you believe in yourself. Frank has made me think better, feel more deeply, create and explore more options whenever I have decisions to make and he has helped me challenge myself in so many ways I never would have done without his encouragement and mentoring. My life has been blessed beyond expectations and many of those blessings are because of Frank. I will miss him beyond words. I know we all share these sentiments and that we will all be smiling very soon as our sadness recedes and as we remember Frank will be a part of our lives forever.
NOTE TO SELF: IN THE EVENT OF A COMPLETE BREAKDOWN, use this: There’s Frank’s voice again, “Come on Rick can’t you even do this right? I ask one simple thing and you screw it up. Give me the paper, I’ll read it.”
