Meeting the Big Guy

George D. Culler was inaugurated as president of the Philadelphia College of Art on May 2, 1966, and served as its first president until 1975. Among the important men of the day, when I worked for what was called, at that time, the Union of Independent College of Art, George Culler was a giant.

In our little office in Kansas City, in our small world of nine colleges spread out over 3,000 miles, George Culler was considered the elder statesman. Of the nine college presidents who were there during my brief stay (10 months, working on a grant project) three men stand out in my memory as senior leaders. George Culler, Harry Ford at California College of Arts and Crafts (it’s former name) and Joe McCullough at the Cleveland Institute of Art. All three were lionized in our offices.

I had to travel to Philadelphia on one of my many trips that year, and I was to meet with George at his office. I managed to meet with all nine presidents sooner or later but this is one where I was waiting to be impressed because of his reputation.

In that one year I had so many meetings with so many faculty and administrators that when I returned to teaching, my mind had made a 180 degree shift and I wanted to be a College President, just as soon as possible. This maybe was not a wise decision, but it was what it was, and sooner or later I managed to do it, twice!

Having little to go on for these meetings except what I was told or gleaned about the people in advance, I was pumped to meet such an important man.

I drove around and found the Philadelphia College of Art and parked my car. I made my way to the school and was greeted by a uniformed guard at a desk in the entrance hall. I walked up to the man and said I was there to meet with President Culler. He looked at me curiously and said, “Who?” I explained I was there to meet the president of the college, and he said, “What was his name?” I said, “George Culler”. He asked me to spell it for him and he looked it up on a long list, found the name, and told me in which direction to go.

I guess you are least appreciated at home, or so it seemed to me.