Among the people most instrumental in transforming Chapman University include two great champions of our university: Paul Musco and Harry Rinker.
Sadly, we recently lost both of these visionary leaders and philanthropists who had a remarkable impact on the life and times of our university and the people whose lives they touched.
Paul Musco
Paul had an incredible sense of humor and was one of the most generous people I’ve ever known. What stands out in my mind is his positive spirit. That spirit helped inspire me and many others in making our community a better place.
His love of our university was focused on our students.
At one of our regular lunches together, Paul suggested that we have an annual party on Columbus Day for our students.
This event, which became a beloved annual tradition, was known as Paul’s Pizza and Pasta Party, or PPPP for short. As students mingled in our Attallah Piazza, I marveled at how proud and happy he was to see so many students enjoying the food and dancing to the Italian tarantella.
I will never forget how Paul was emotionally moved when a student approached him to offer thanks for making the Marybelle and Sebastian P. Musco Center for the Arts a reality on our campus. The student said, “It means so much to me and my family that I actually got to do my recital on such a magnificent stage.”
After we had accepted a student with muscular dystrophy—a cause he has supported as one of his many charities—I hosted a lunch with her so she could tell Paul and me about her Chapman experience.
Thinking back on it now, I can visualize the tears of joy I saw in Paul’s eyes as he heard her talk about how much she loved her classes and the experiences she had as a student leader on campus.
That’s the kind of thing that gave Paul great pleasure and satisfaction in life. It wasn’t his name on buildings—we forced that on him—but seeing firsthand how young people’s lives were transformed by what he made possible through his broad vision and heartfelt generosity.
At our last economic forecast conference that was held at the Musco Center in June, Paul was sitting in what I called “the Musco Box.” He was not feeling well that day, but I knew he was there to support me.
Although I now feel an incredible sense of loss at his passing—we called each other brothers—I will always be grateful for the priceless gift of having him as part of my life and Chapman’s.
Harry Rinker
When I last visited Harry Rinker, I told him about a recent hike I took in Santiago Oaks Regional Park, where I came upon a beautiful, wooded trail named “Rinker Grove Trail.” While it was a short trail, it was the only stretch that passed through a majestic grove of California oak trees.
“I planted those trees,” Harry excitedly told me.
He then related with a twinkle in his eyes that after giving the land to the county, he picked out the trees and located them along the edges of a narrow trail.
He was like a kid when he said, “You know Jimmy, those were 200-gallon trees!”
That’s one of the many things I loved about Harry. Even though he had reached the tender age of 100, he was always a kid at heart.
One of Harry’s many hobbies was collecting intricately carved boats that were made out of whalebone by Napoleonic prisoners of war in the early 1800s. When I found a small bone boat at a local nautical antique shop, I called to ask Harry whether the price I had negotiated was a good deal. He said, “Jimmy, let’s go down together and take a look.”
He then carefully scrutinized the bone boat I had picket out. Taking me aside, he said, “It’s a good boat, but you need to get a better deal.” When I told him that I had already gotten the price down to the lowest point, he looked at me in a way that suggested I was in great need of some street smarts.
“Jimmy,” he said, “Tell him you think the price is just too high, and you’ll have to take a pass. But be sure to leave your telephone number in case he changes his mind.”
Sure enough, I got that callback a week later, and I bought that boat at a greatly reduced price from the one I naively thought was already at rock bottom.
When Harry passed, I lost not only my close friend but my mentor as well. At one of our regular breakfasts—this one was back in the mid-1990s, not long after I became president of Chapman University—I told him about a blunder I made at Chapman.
After commiserating with me about it, he asked, “Did you learn anything?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll never do something so dumb like that again.”
Looking at me squarely in the eyes, he said, “See, Jimmy, it wasn’t so much a blunder after all. You learned something. That’s the important thing.”
Harry’s legacy will extend well beyond me and the many others who had the privilege of knowing him. As Chapman students pass the bust of Harry Rinker located on the Harry and Diane Rinker Health Science campus, I hope they will take a moment to think about the man who played an important role in making their educations and their future medical careers possible. You see, Harry Rinker didn’t just transplant oak trees; he also transformed the lives of people.
Paul and Harry
Harry called me on his 100th birthday this year to tell me that his 95-year-old friend, Paul Musco, said, “Happy Birthday, Mr. Rinker.” Harry then told Paul that he didn’t have to call him “Mr.”
Paul responded by saying, “But my mom and dad always told me to treat my elders with respect.”
