Laila and I in front of Nana and Papa's home on Hanley Avenue. We were an old married couple then, by Hollywood standards, but it felt like we had just first met (without the uncertainty). It still does. I now know her much better and miss her that much more.
This photo was taken by a long-time friend from Jakarta, Shanti Poesposoejipto, at an Indonesian restaurant near us. Among her many other talents, Laila had a knack for trying all sort of foods and befriending people all over the world, introvert though she was. Shanti had come to town to speak at one of the Milken Institute's annual global conferences and wanted to spend some time with Laila as well.
I think the photo typifies Laila's mischievous humor, the wry smile after some comment or other that I've forgotten now. Sharp until the very end, Laila was always into the midst of critiques on music, political controversy and the future of humanity. I keep that smile and her laughter in my mind every day.
This is Laila with her Exacta, the Langs, Nana and Papa in Colter Bay, Grand Teton National Park. The Langs were old friends from Chicago and ran the convenience store in Colter Bay summertimes. You can see the Grand Tetons in the background.
This is an early photo of the Los Angeles version of the Padorr Trio. They are, from left to right: Laila, Delores Stevens and Joanna (Binky) DeKeyser. This is the combo that won the Coleman Chamber Music Award.
This is a photo of Laila with her favorite SLR, the Exacta she picked up after (or during) one of her trips to Europe before we first met. She was one of the first persons I knew who owned a single-lens-reflex camera. It made me think seriously about trading in my Rolleiflex -- which I did shortly after. This is one of my favorite photos of Laila the intrepid foreign correspondent.
Here we have Laila, Victor Morosco, and Jane Welton relaxing after a publicity shooting session for Victor's crossover CD "Double Exposure". This was one of the CDs jointly produced and edited by Laila and Jane's Protone Records. Victor was also a member of the Los Angeles Saxophone Quartet. He adapted J. S. Bach's entire "Art of the Fugue" for saxophones; also recorded by Protone Records.
This is a photo of the management group of the European Comunity Telework Forum (ECTF) taken during one of our conferences, this one in Berlin in 1995. The cast of characters is, from left to right: Jack, Eduardo Barrera (Spain), Laila, Enrique de la Serna (Italy) and Andrew Page (UK). Mssing from the photo is Werner Korte (Germany).
Just before this photo was taken Laila gave a talk about telework in the U.S. A gentleman from IBM in Germany told her about the telework program they had set up. When Laila told him we had started IBM in the telework business in 1984 he was astounded, saying: "But we never heard about you!" Laila explained that we were sworn to secrecy about the participants in our project. Just like the original one in 1973.
Only Laila's back is in this picture. It was taken of Jack and his class at PPM, a major management school in Jakarta, Indonesia. This was part of a lecture tour we made through Indonesia and Australia in early 1984. The general topic of the classes and lectures was the future of personal computers and computing.
We had great fun sampling new cuisines and making new friends throughout the region. As part of it we were fortunate enough to spend a weekend in Bali on the way to Perth, Adelaide, Melbourne and Sydney.
This was taken during a day off when Jack was giving a lecture in support of the new technological innovation center in Madeira. This was part of an international symposium on the economic developent if island nations. The statue is at the Legislative Assembly building in downtown Funchal. The statue, entitled "Powers Trilogy", was made by the Madeiran sculptor Amândio Sousa.
This was taken in Singapore, our week-long rest stop from a trip to Canberra, Australia, where we were consulting with the Australian government about developing telecommuting and telework there. This is a Chinese temple, complete with guardian dragons at the roof corners.
Reflections by David Fleming
Laila, the Mother of Telecommuting, is a naturally descriptive title bestowed upon her for many reasons, including these two: 1) she is married to Jack, the Father of Telecommuting and 2) she nurtured many of us from the conception of Telecommuting to its maturity as a well recognized working option today. My introduction to the telecommuting possibilities came from reading Alvin Toffler’s The Third Wave, wherein Toffler’s major resource about “telecommuters” came from research and interviews with Jack and Laila. Following Toffler’s credits citing Jack’s research was the beginning of my journey on roads I had never dreamed to travel, and I am grateful for having traveled many of those roads with them.
Our journey with Laila and Jack (fondly labeled “Mom and Dad”) began in 1984 when Lis and I were taking our daughter (Tova) to Disney Land. A side trip was to interview Jack, then Director of Institute for Futures Research at the University of Southern California. My intent was to seek counsel as how best to introduce California State government to benefits of telecommuting that would address and mitigate serious concerns of that time: cost of state government, business, socioeconomic issues and environmental quality. The counsel Laila and Jack offered for the next 10+ years resulted in a first of a kind state law establishing the California Employee Telecommuting Act of 1990, remarkably enacted a mere 90 days after JALA’s report was sent to the Governor and Legislature. Enactment came after an intensive two-year prototype program with over 200 state employees and managers being trained by Laila and Jack. This followed with their valued consulting with me in creating 12-first-of-kind neighborhood telecenters (1992-1995), a research program through the Institute of Transportation Studies at the University of California Davis. We would later (1997) share our telework experience with the first international conference on telework in Lisbon, Portugal, an awesome travel experience with JaLa I shall never forget.
Laila and Jack’s patience, expertise and counsel together with their intelligent and gentle persuading of managers to become tele-managers has resulted in thousands – more like millions – to become better managers and location-independent workers of today in the private, public and government sectors of the world.
Jack’s book dedicated to Laila, Managing Telework – Strategies for Managing the Virtual Workforce came as no surprise, but rather a heartfelt expectation of those who have been blessed by the Mother and Father of Telecommuting. Laila has been a life force behind all the many successes of JALA International. Lis and I strongly sense Laila’s spirit will continue overseeing and nurturing those who have been so fortunately blessed with her presence in our lives.
On the back cover of Jack’s book, I was honored to offer an endorsement which ended with… “…I wouldn’t be without it” (book). The same holds for the presence of Laila and Jack in my life.
Thank you, Laila. You are the Mother of Telecommuting always.
David
Good Times with Laila and Jack: Lis Fleming remembers
I remember lots of lunches together when Laila and Jack were in Sacramento for the California State Telecommuting Pilot project. We had several fun times and lively conversations at Charlie Brown’s restaurant near Cal Expo. Once we went together to an “operatic” café where the waiters and waitresses were accomplished singers who would burst into powerful arias from time to time. Laila praised one of the sopranos as a true Diva, and Laila would know with her expertise in chamber music, flute performances and all things classical.
David and I were honored to be part of JALA’s consulting team, leading telecommuting workshops in Seattle. Laila was committed to her role as observer, analyst and mentor through all the seminars. In Seattle we were also introduced a good friend of Laila and Jack’s and enjoyed visiting with such a very fascinating, cordial and hospitable gentleman. It was a truly memorable time.
One of our wonderful times with Laila and Jack was our visit to their lovely home in the hillside area of Los Angeles – a place where deer and other wild creatures wandered through the natural coastal landscape. We were treated to hearing Laila’s professionally recorded chamber music on their home’s state-of-the-art music system as we enjoyed fine vistas through wide picture windows. Their tiny swimming pool was a lesson on how important it is to have water on hand in case of wildfires in the dry terrain – a good thing to know.
On that same visit to their home, Laila and Jack took us on a little walking tour of the local yacht club where they were members and where their sail boat was berthed. The two of them regaled us with delightful (and sometimes hair-raising) tales of seal and dolphin and weather encounters on their expanse of the Pacific Ocean.
What a rich and wonderful life they shared with us. We are grateful to have been a small part of it.
Lis
It has taken far too long for me to write this, but then it seems my nature to be unable to immediately come to grips with loss. I could plead that pressure of my work and my own health are contributory reasons, but history tells another story.
The fact is that when presented some years ago with another opportunity to write seriously about what somebody meant to me, I realized then that offering a tribute to someone said as much or more about the “tributor” as the “tributee.” And if one intends to be sincere in the effort, both care and honesty must be observed. For me, a little distance is required for that kind of reflection.
Another fact is that Laila was not merely a singular entity to me. Certainly, she was my aunt, but more than that, she was a second mother, and even more, an integral part of a composite, Lail’n’Jack. That entity was and is an eternal factor in my growing up and my very consciousness.
What has given me a way to begin is the picture in the gallery of Laila and me dated February 22, 1966. I urge you to look at it and focus not on the exuberant pre-adolescent, but rather on the way Laila is looking at me, the pose she’s willing to share for the moment with that little boy, and the unencumbered fondness shown in the way one arm is out-flung while the other holds me close. I look at that picture and find myself drawn in by her eyes, the obvious comfort she feels in her embrace and sense of the moment.
I’ve always sought those moments with her. And she as Lail’n’Jack presented me with many opportunities while I was young, and later when I sought their opinion and approval in various ways.
Laila’s opinions were sometimes quick and always deeply held. An artist by nature and nurture, she cast a critical eye over everything she touched or perceived. Her disappointments were painful and those that were attached to family were especially difficult. The thing I came to realize (and it took me far too long to reach that understanding) was that her attachment to family was so strong, so caring, that the pain of unmet expectation cut and lasted. She loved so utterly that her desire for herself and those for whom she cared most to do well by themselves and each other was just as intense. At times, it was almost too much to bear for both her and those who had disappointed.
In this regard she was by no means unique. In some ways to me, she epitomized that ours is a family of temper. Our collective métier is one that celebrates empiricism and creativity while battling demons both real and self-summoned, one that demands much and, too often, accepts little in both our professional and personal guises – we run hot and we run cold with ourselves and each other. And yet one more thing: we earnestly believe in rising to the occasion, of recognizing the moment, victory or crisis, as an opportunity. Yes, in that, Laila was very much the epitome. The Laila in that photograph demonstrates that as directly as a correctly played trill could be heard from her flute. To say that Laila was dedicated in and to her feelings, her beliefs, and her love is a serious understatement – she gave herself whole-heartedly to them. She was them and they were her.
It was easy to see this in her music, whether playing herself or producing others. One of my ongoing efforts in soliciting her opinion and approval included my parading girlfriends before her. On a particular occasion, a young woman I’d brought to Lail’n’Jack’s house, after listening to one of Laila’s recordings was moved to say, “Laila, you sure play the fuck out of that flute.” I remember Laila’s slightly nonplussed reaction being a fascinating mixture of delight and dismay. I could tell she was pleased, but not sure she should be.
I said ours is a family of temper and there was a time when the disappointments created a rift, a rift where I served as the solitary bridge within the family. I mention this because it illustrates something very much in keeping with what I just wrote and something that gives me a way to bring this reflection to a close.
When my daughter was born, she entered the world in a dramatic fashion. I was away on a business trip and for a variety of reasons, it was Lail’n’Jack I turned to from across the continent to find out what was going on. In the days before cellular, having 2 different phone lines available from their house was a godsend as I could remain on one line with one of them while the other called the hospital. Upon discovering where my wife, Tamara, was, Lail’n’Jack scrambled to her side, a decision they made without hesitation even though it placed all the living members on both sides of the rift in immediate proximity. The occasion was risen to by all present. A good thing, but one not to be repeated for 18 years.
It was, in fact, my daughter’s combined graduation from high school and birthday where, in line with my own thoughts, my daughter stated her desire to have everyone attend. I made plain to all that this was another occasion, another rising summoned and that call was answered and honored. It is, perhaps, needless to say that this effected a reconciliation of sorts, a sense of continuing occasion that has lasted ever since. It occurs to me my daughter’s pronouncement that she would accept everyone’s decision with delight or regret as appropriate and in the case of the latter, would neither condemn or forget was a quintessential emulation of her great aunt.
I began by mentioning reflection. I went on to speak of Laila in terms of our family as much as her specific effect on me. In the course of doing so, it became clear to me that it is her reflection that stays with me – I see her in myself, my sister, and our daughters. I have only to look at any one of us to know that Laila remains and endures.
Although I never lived in the same city as Laila and Jack during my adult life, my favorite moments were our conversations about the cultural, social, scientific, technological, gastronomic world that we shared. Laila's extensive travels, her intellectual curiosity, and her absolute horse sense brought a singular perspective that I sought - counted on - to reassure me that my own interests were on the right track.
I will always picture her framed by a view of the chaparral landscape outside the glass wall of their dining room - a landscape that signifies "home" to me in a way nothing else can - as she opined engagingly and convincingly about any topic brought to the conversation table.
My trust in her opinions extended into other big decisions - where to live, what career moves to make, how to vote, what to think of the world at large. It wasn't just her life experience and my respect for her as a family matriarch; it was because I knew that she was someone who would always share the unvarnished truth. I aspire to be that self-assured, to have that much nerve, to know myself that well.
Thank you Laila - I wish the conversation didn't have to end. I will miss you.
Some people are clearly products of their time, influenced and molded by the demands of politics, economics, and culture. Others are clearly iconoclasts in the best sense of the word – striking out against the establishment and long-held traditions that need to be shaken up. In many ways, that sense of individualism stamps many members of my family. Laila's parents surely set the pattern for her and my mother – her sister – Beata. Papa left the Old World behind for the New World, teaching himself English by translating War and Peace from its original Russian. When his businesses took a turn for the worse during the Great Depression, Nana became the bread winner, taking full advantage of her talents in music and teaching. Refusing to be defined by any labels, they taught their daughters not to think or behave as others did. Both daughters, made of similar cloth, obeyed... probably the only time in their lives they did such a thing! They prided themselves on their individualities. It even started with their names. What romantic illusions – and allusions – were Nana and Papa thinking of to come up with Beata and Laila...among the more popular and commonplace Alices, Annies, Dorothys, Ediths, Florences, Irenes, Josephines, Lucilles, Mildreds, and Roses? Good god! Of course they had to be different! And certainly exceptional.
Laila possessed many “streaks” - in current terminology, think of spokes on her wheel or aspects of her personal mandala. I prefer a sense of meteoric flash – her streaks of independence, intellectual brilliance, definite opinion, pointed humor, fierce loyalty, and above all defiance at anything that didn't sit right with her and her world view. In those veins, it was a given that she would create her own life path, contrary to social conventions and domestic expectations. She earned multiple academic degrees when most women were satisfied to get their Mrs. degree. She traveled abroad to enhance her knowledge of and experience with music at a time when Europe was still in grave disrepair after the upheavals of WWII. She formed her own classical musical unit with a small group of other female performers, traveling all over the country – often in places where women weren't supposed to go by themselves, much less be in charge of their own professional interests and goals. Not quite going to the lengths of nonconformists Marlene Dietrich or Katherine Hepburn, she wore gorgeous fairy-tale gowns and tiaras on stage (all of which I greatly fancied in my early years)...although she had an equally great supply of tee-shirts and sweaters and trousers and caps that were reserved for casual, personal time. If she was vain at all, it was in terms of negating fashion trends. She told me only recently that she bought sweater sets – all the rage “back then” - but she deliberately never wore the two pieces together, as was the style of the day.
She wasn't necessarily looking for a partner; she certainly had several professionally. But when her soul mate appeared on the scene – after yet another brave and solo venture, leaving the Old part of the US (Midwest and East coast) for the New (Los Angeles, California) – echoes of Papa's own pioneering trail – Laila's horizons expanded anew. Jack and she inspired one another to dream and tackle and master new ventures. They were equals before feminism demanded gender parity. Laila and Jack shared an endless and ever-growing array of professional interests and private hobbies, extending from music production and worldwide telework to photography, sailing, and the joy of observing hummingbirds. The only quiet moments I ever noted in their company happened when reading the daily newspapers, and even then, they peppered one another with commentary. Their norm was mutual conversation – cogent, ecumenical, and constant – from the moment they met until shortly before her body and brain were defeated by the terminal effects of disease.
When I think back on my own association with Laila, I fondly remember my childhood wonder, awe, and envy...for her red alligator pen/pencil case, her educational wheel that lined up pictures of deciduous and evergreen trees with their particular names, her black piccolo, the $5 check she sent me when she was first in California and the rest of us were still in Chicago.... I never gave it to my parents to cash for me, and, a year and a half later, when I proudly showed it to her as one of my treasured keepsakes after we all moved to California, she was furious. As a child still in single digits, I didn't yet understand about balancing checkbooks... In much later years, she always greeted me with the same salutation: “What's new?” I felt it my duty as well as my pleasure to recount every oddity and amazing occurrence of my life. Even the mundane she regarded with profound significance and awarded a certification of noteworthiness. For my ears, it was an echo of how Laila had been brought up, had grown up, and had come to perceive the world we now lived in. She was perennially true to herself and her heritage – familial, musical, intellectual, critical. She was a trailblazer and, in that respect, a great appreciator for those like her. Her two regrets, that those of us who survive her know she would voice, were leaving Jack and not getting to vote for the first female US president. I can say – as I did indeed whisper to her at the end – Jack will not be alone – except when he wants to be – and when casting my vote in November, I'll punch my ballot four times – once for me, once for Nana, once for Beata, and once for Laila.
