such-and-such.’ I ran down the four flights of stairs to the brass
mailbox to pick up the mail each day. Every once in a while my
91 ⁄ 2 -, 10-, 11-year-old heart would miss a beat because there was
a little white envelope that said White House on it. I couldn’t
get over it. The White House was writing to him.
“My father was a guy who had bits and pieces of paper in his
pockets and in the brim of his hat, and that’s how he managed
things. He was always into more than he could handle, because
he was never organized. So I guess inversely he taught me the
need to be prepared and keep both feet on the ground. He was
a man who knew he was going to have a million dollars in two
weeks, and of course he never made it. But he never stopped
believing. He leaned into life, like M. Hulot, bent in with head
tilting, the stride strong.”
Like his father the rascal, the son has never stopped believ-
ing, and he, too, leans into life. He told me, “First and foremost,
find out what it is you’re about, and be that. Be what you are,
and don’t lose it.... It’s very hard to be who we are, because it
doesn’t seem to be what anyone wants.” But, of course, as Lear
has demonstrated, it’s the only way to truly fly.
Norman Lear had a guiding vision, a belief in himself, a
belief that he could make a difference. And that vision al-
lowed him to master the context in television, an arena in
which producers traditionally survive by being like everybody
else, by coming up with a clone of last season’s hit, by playing
to the lowest common denominator with the least objection-
able programming. Lear not only made it to the top and
stayed there for two decades—and this in an industry in
which five years is considered a career—he did it by produc-
ing original shows, shows that stood out in bright colors next
to their pale competitors. He was there for others to point to,
On Becoming a Leader