Hubert M. Stiles, Jr. – 50th Reunion Essay

Hubert M. Stiles, Jr.

915 Rolandvue Road

Towson, Maryland 21204

herbstiles@aol.com

410-821-4006 (landline), 410-978-8018 (cell)

Spouse(s): Constance M. Pohl (1981)

Child(ren): Aimee (1976), Francois (1984)

Grandchild(ren): Mirah (2008), Molly (2011), Amelia (2013), Malcolm (2015), Hattie (2016)

Education: Yale (BS Ad Sci, 1969), NYU (MBA, 1973)

Career: Commercial and Investment Banking at JPMorgan NYC (‘69-’88), Portfolio Manager at T. Rowe Price in Baltimore (’88–’01). hedge fund at DDJ Capital in Boston (’01–’02).

Avocations: Judo, boxing, tai chi, skiing, EST, Science Fiction, Book Clubs, French, Investing, Grandparenting

College: Timothy Dwight

1969 was a good year. Full of promise and excitement for the future. I was drafted but, incredibly, released with a one-year “temporary” medical deferment for a chronic sprained ankle (which hasn’t given me even a hint of trouble since). My girlfriend Nancy and I planned an indeterminate “look for America” trip across the US, but the relationship unraveled and my “future” became a pressing void to be filled. A strong intuition told me New York City was the place, and finance (for which I had no prior experience) was the profession.

And finance is where I stayed: Corporate and investment banking in New York City for 19 years, managing a private equity fund in Baltimore for another 13 years, then to Boston for a brief two-year hedge fund experience. Now, a retirement that remains burdened with investment activity.

I met my wife Constance at a St. Patrick’s Day party 37 years ago and we’ve been on ever since. Two children and five grandchildren now. Grandchildren! I was smitten from the start by the radiant joy they bring.

So many of us described our 25th reunion as the mid-point, or the “half-life”. At our 50th, then, that means it’s over, right? In many ways, that seems true for me although dreadful to contemplate. I’m retired so that the most important things I formerly sought—achievement, recognition, “mastery,” problem solving, influence—are no longer on my aging view screen. Instead, I find myself absorbed in how things in our society really work. I look at our social problems and I try to strip away as much as I try to discover: What’s the real story on how tariffs work? What, if anything, is really happening with the perils of climate change? What is the real reason our secondary schools fail to work for the lower classes? Is inequality, in reality, a bad thing or a necessary thing? In reality, why is political correctness at Yale so disturbing to me?

Maybe these deliberations are a bit grand for senior citizen retirees, but just maybe they come from a praiseworthy habit of thought that all of us Yalies are afflicted with. Our class memoirs reveal a broad sense of civic responsibility expressing itself in the events of our lives. Even at our advanced age, we talk about “the responsibility to do my best,” “making a contribution,” “advancing understanding”. Our essays recount, without grandiosity, a quite admirable collection of contributions to society. Maybe this is a shared heritage of our class.

I think back to how I used to marvel at how different we all were in our abilities and attitudes. But the inquiring mind quality is something I think we shared all along and which was nurtured by our experience at Yale. Now that the race is nearly run, I marvel at how similar we seem to be. On the whole, I think our Yale experience taught us a respect for learning and, from the turbulent sixties, also a respect for diversity. Both have shaped our lives after graduation.

We could have done worse.