To continue my tribute to Dr. Carroll in this site dated February 16, 2018, I’d like to share some vivid, clear memories of my initial meeting with Dr. Carroll. What comes first to mind is the state of his office—I had never seen a work space so full, floor to ceiling, so chock-a-block with books and papers that it was impossible to walk around! Somewhere on his desk or on a shelf a small sign or plaque was visible, with a quote from former vice president Hubert Humphrey, I believe, to the effect that “If someone is organized, he or she does not have a clear mind, but if he has a clear mind his office will be messy.” Dr. Carroll was living proof of this axiom! Cynthia Lee, now a professor at Northeastern University’s business school, was, like me, a teaching assistant of Dr. Carroll, and she likes to tell a story of coming to his office one Monday morning and being startled. “Steve, your office is suddenly bigger!” she exclaimed (perhaps with a bit of irony). “What happened?” As it turned out, Dr. Carroll, against his nature, had spent the weekend cleaning it up.
As our relationship grew, mentor and mentee, it was not long before Dr. Carroll made the greatest contribution in molding my future: he convinced me to change my major. This was a completely unforeseen development--a revelation, really. I had entered the doctoral program at Maryland’s business school (now the Smith School) as an organizational-behavior student. At that time, there was no strategic management group (it was later established by Professor Frank T. Paine). I limped along in the OB seminar of Professor Edwin A. Locke and landed five from the bottom in my mid-term, which to me, a newcomer to the U.S., was like an English test instead of an exam of a professional subject matter. By the end of that first year I had managed to right the ship, and received a very positive review from Dr. Locke and my advisor Dr. Bob Wood, who thought I’d had a great year.
And then, I walked into Dr. Carroll’s office. At the conclusion of a long conversation, he said, “Ming-Jer, given your interests, and what Taiwan needs, I think you should major in strategy instead of organizational behavior.” With that, he guided me into strategic management. At the time, this was a road much less traveled, to borrow from Robert Frost, and “that made all the difference.”
It should be understood that Dr. Carroll and former Smith School dean Rudy Lamone had consulted for several years to the Taiwanese technology firm Datong Electronic Company, and thus Dr. Carroll was a relatively early bridger of East-West business cultures. On assessing my future, he applied his innate insight into human nature overlaid with the wealth of his experience to make connections that neither I nor anyone else had been able to see. It all became clear to me then, and seemed as if it had been clear all long. Without question, my interests lay much more in the macro and strategic realms than in the micro-focused world of organizational behavior.
With some trepidation, I went back to Dr. Locke and Dr. Wood and informed them that I had decided to change directions and majors. Needless to say, this came to them completely out of the blue and as something of a shock. Yet, a year later I said to Dr. Locke and my other OB professors, “Now, can you imagine me doing lab experiments the rest of my life?” Thankfully, they had come around to my, and Dr. Carroll’s, understanding that this course correction would put me on track toward my life’s true work.
Just as important, Dr. Carroll was the only one to say to me, “Ming-Jer, you know you can write a good theoretical article.” At that time, empirical studies were not only easier to conduct, but for non-English students they were almost the only choice. Dr. Carroll gave me the confidence to become a rigorous theorist, and before long I had placed the first of four successive publications in Academy of Management Review, the most prestigious journal publishing theoretical papers in the management field. For this I owed a debt of gratitude to Dr. Carroll, for his foresight and encouragement.
Because my primary dissertation advisor, Dr. Ken Smith, could not solely chair my dissertation, due to his assistant professorship status at the time, Dr. Carroll was kind enough to serve as co-chair. Not only was he integral to directing my studies, he was a supportive arbitrator when disagreements, small or large, later arose. In December of last year I had an opportunity to call Dr. Smith when I was in Taiwan. As we spoke of Dr. Carroll, our conversation led to an open, honest discussion on, among other topics, cultural notions of aggressiveness. Our divergent views at Maryland, we agreed, had arisen from our cultural differences; we were able to transcend these differences in no small part because of the understated, behind-the-scenes type of mediation at which Dr. Carroll was so adept. Thanks to him, I have sustained a lifelong friendship with Dr. Smith, and a relationship I valued so highly with my respected advisor and mentor was not lost.
This experience is undoubtedly like any number that could be recounted by other colleagues and students of Dr. Carroll. He had a sensitive, delicate way of handling conflict, a natural mediator, always helping, always the problem-solver. For students in particular, he was the professor, advisor, confidant who could be counted on for advice, answers, counseling, or resolution. Dr. Carroll, we all knew, would be there to offer both moral and substantive support to doctoral students who needed extra help, or to those who were left out or “lost.”
For my family, Dr. Carroll’s presence extended well beyond the walls of academia. One of our fondest memories is of a party he and Mrs. Carroll so graciously gave for Moh-Jiun and me, with faculty members and doctoral students, on Dec. 20, 1988. This is a date we recall well not only for the Carrolls’ kindness: two days later, our first child, Andy, was born, and two weeks after that we left College Park for New York and Columbia. The Carrolls’ hospitality is thus remembered as both a baby shower and a birthday. The smallest details of that party are still vivid today, right down to the delicious cucumber sandwiches the Carrolls served with tea, a tradition springing from Dr. Carroll’s Irish heritage and one that we adopted in our own home. Our second child, Abraham, shares Dr. Carroll’s passion for history and film, which has led to many animated conversations in our family over the years.
Dr. Carroll’s shared pleasure with our family’s interests and accomplishments was so genuine. In 2010, when I was elected president and fellow of the Academy of Management, I am certain that my lifelong mentor was more pleased than I, and from that year on, Dr. Carroll and I always attended the Fellows dinners together. I could see how happy and proud he was, and to other Fellows he would refer to me as his “Chinese son.”
As an educator and a Chinese, I recognized how Dr. Carroll embodied qualities revered in the Eastern tradition. In his caring first for other people, he reflected the ethos at the center of Chinese pedagogy. In China, Confucius is considered to be the “father” of the teaching profession. One of his teachings holds that a student is to be taught regardless of background, ability, or any other consideration. Dr. Carroll embraced this belief joyfully throughout his career. As one who had the honor of serving as his teaching assistant (if regrettably not his classroom student), I admired how he taught everyone from doctoral students to basketball players. He loved his Terps, the University of Maryland athletic teams!
Dr. Carroll’s devotion to education was reflected in the high esteem in which he was held within academia—but certainly not only within this domain. He was a true renaissance scholar, well and widely read on so many subjects, and he embraced all that life has to offer. He could converse with ease and grace on any topic, from film and art to politics and, of course, business. Always he was kind and generous, whether with his ideas and time or his companionship.
As Mrs. Carroll knows, after my brief conversation with Dr. Carroll in mid-January of this year I sent him a copy of a forthcoming paper (to be published in June), which I inscribed to him: “This paper is dedicated to Dr. Stephen Carroll, Jr., my dissertation co-supervisor, lifelong role model, and ‘American father.’” I hope this dedication adequately reflects the importance to me of our rich, lifelong relationship.
Dr. Carroll’s children remember their father as someone who “sought knowledge and understanding” and “admired beauty in works of art and the natural world.” In these few words they captured perfectly this man of boundless spirit and humanity, a true gentleman scholar. It is with the profoundest respect that I offer this testimonial to Dr. Carroll, my beloved “American teacher-father.” To sir, with forever love.
