Following is the Hopkins Medal Citation, presented by Barbara Riley, to John C. Malone '59:

It is a great pleasure to see so many of you here tonight, particularly the former Hopkins Headmasters from whom I have inherited such a remarkable school. I also welcome John Malone, the 2004 Hopkins Medal recipient, and the only person to have earned both the Hopkins Medal and the Distinguished Alumnus Award.

The Hopkins Medal is awarded annually to a member of the Hopkins family who has shown unparalleled commitment, devotion and loyalty to Hopkins. Tonight, we are here to honor John C. Malone, Class of 1959, for his commitment to advancing our academic program, particularly in the sciences; for his awareness and support of our need to foster and care for the social and personal dimensions of an academic community; for his gift to endowment for financial aid, and for the daily reminder in the name of Heath Commons that teaching – and teachers – continue to be the essence of Hopkins School.

Just two years ago, when Hopkins sought and received a grant to endowment for scholarship from the Malone Family Foundation, we asked educators, some of them Hopkins alumni, to write on the School’s behalf and about their Hopkins experience. Two of those alumni, Guido Calabresi ’49, former Dean of the Yale Law School, and Judge, United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit, and Harold Koh ’71, the current Dean of the Yale Law School, reflected on their time at Hopkins in very similar ways; ones I believe that you, John, share.

I have come to think of secondary schools such as Hopkins – and there are not many of those -- as possibly the last bastions of the classic liberal arts education. By that I mean that Hopkins provides the place and time for students to first experience the breadth and depth of the academic disciplines. In a classic liberal arts experience, students really have no choice but to become generalists; that is, people who are learning to think deeply within all the disciplines while also learning to think broadly across them. When I read those tributes from our alumni, it was somewhat surprising but also gratifying to hear that alumni of a generation (or two) ago, felt the same way.

In what turned out to be testimonials--cum-musings, both Judge Calabresi and Dean Koh remembered Hopkins as the place where they had first encountered that surge of intellect, self-awareness and excitement, along with an appreciation of those qualities in others. As Judge Calabresi wrote:

“My friends at Hopkins. . . have gone on to become leaders in the most diverse areas of life. Some are diplomats, others scientists, still others writers – their subjects are immensely diverse. Yet the beauty of it all was, and is, that in the atmosphere Hopkins fostered we were able to be excited about all those fields. At the School, we became close to and were challenged by, those who would make their names in the most different areas, while also learning deeply about the subjects that would become our own. . . I can truly say that not in Yale College, not at Oxford as a Rhodes Scholar, not in clerking for the United States Supreme Court, and only just possibly at the Yale Law School where I have taught for 44 years, have I found friends and an academic setting as conducive to intellectual growth and originality as I did in my years at the School.”

I mention this, John, because I believe that it was a similar memory of yours that drew you back to us nearly forty years after your graduation. For you, intellectual growth and originality at Hopkins took several forms.

When you came to the School in September of 1954 you were, as Bill Kneisel ’65 reminded us last May at the dedication of Heath Commons, “a gifted and industrious student who enjoyed a special aptitude for math and science.” Your memories of John Heath, the mathematics teachers who taught you both pre-Cal and Calculus in your senior year, represented the best of teaching and learning at Hopkins. (By the way, John, you may be interested to know that this year we currently have two students who will be ready for multi-variable Calculus as sophomores.) At Hopkins and beyond – at Yale College and then at Johns Hopkins – you went from engineering and economics to Operations Research, the complex application of mathematics to industrial and financial problem solving.

As a student at Hopkins, you played chess and poker with the same intensity you brought to your studies and later to your life as an entrepreneur. Although I haven’t yet touched on the importance of Heath Commons to Hopkins and its people. It is time to comment on some of the unintended consequences of this magnificent building. I do not believe anyone could have predicted that poker -- in the five-card stud form that captivated the minds of many in the Class of 1959, with you, John, at the forefront – no one could have predicted that poker (now it its Texas Hold ‘Em incarnation) would have had such a strong revival as a result of the social space created by Heath Commons.

John, we will simply never know if, at some subliminal level, this building was meant to hone the risk-taking propensities of yet another generation of Hopkins poker players. One thing is certain: What I have come to think of as the Malone Effect continues to grow, this year’s manifestation being a senior class that sought to raise funds for the Connecticut Food Bank with . . . a poker tournament. (Permission was denied, by the way, since we have not come to the point where we ignore the State’s gambling laws.)

All institutions have their beginnings; and, often, they have periods of great moment and significance in their history. In 1660 Edward Hopkins bequeathed to us a portion of his estate, some £400 and in addition, the word hopeful; the Reverend John Davenport took those funds, and that word, and created a school. Two hundred and sixty-five years later, in 1925, Dr. George Lovell convinced the Committee of Trustees and its reluctant President, Simeon Baldwin, to move Hopkins to its current site on the Hill. In 1972, Hopkins Grammar School merged with the Day Prospect Hill School, changing the institution, once again, and immeasurably for the better. In 1992, Vince Calarco, then the Board President, and Tim Rodd, Hopkins’ Headmaster – both eminently practical and thoughtful men – led Hopkins, at that time a school with zero net endowment, to purchase the abutting 50+ acres of land, which would make possible the playing fields, and the academic and arts facilities that will serve our students and teachers far into Hopkins’ future. At each of these turning points, individuals with a deep commitment to Hopkins made the calculated leap of faith that advanced the School toward a fuller realization of its purpose and values.

That brings me to you, John. In the early 1990’s, when you became re-involved with Hopkins, you gave us both the sage advice and the matching funds at critical stages of a capital campaign that resulted in an unbelievably successful effort for Hopkins. For the first time in its history, Hopkins had a meaningful endowment, and an accompanying sense of stability.

You urged us to build the teaching spaces that would serve future generations of Hopkins science students, and you made the commitment of your own resources that resulted in the Malone Science Center. You asked, and you listened, when we said that our next building should have the dual purposes of restoring civilized dining at Hopkins, and at the same time providing the campus with a social heart, in the form of a gathering space that encouraged frequent and casual contact among teachers and students. The result was the magnificent Heath Commons.

Personally, and on behalf of a grateful School, I want to tell you that these buildings are well-loved and well-used every day. Their transforming effect on Hopkins and its people has been so deeply felt that shortly after their openings, life before them was pretty hard to remember. All along, however, something was going on that had to do with much more than bricks and mortar and balance sheets.

Earlier, I noted that the Hopkins Medal is awarded each year to that person who has shown unparalleled commitment, devotion and loyalty to Hopkins. Your devotion to Hopkins, to be sure, is evident in the Malone Science Center and Heath Commons. Those buildings, however, have a significance and symbolism that go beyond structures, and even beyond your commitment to Hopkins academic program, and to the necessary social dimensions of a community of teachers and learners.

We take tremendous and, I believe, justifiable, pride in the fact that Hopkins is a supremely academic place. And, when we use the word “hopeful” with our students, the term has a distinct meaning. Here, “hopeful” conveys the belief that our young people hold the promise of future good; further, “hopeful” expresses our expectation that students will take their Hopkins experience and use it to fulfill that promise. “Hopeful,” it turns out, and in its particular Hopkins sense, has a resonance for the institution, as well as its individuals.

Ultimately, John, your most important contribution to Hopkins has been the renewal of our sense of shared and essential purpose. We ask our students to take their training and experience, and to use them to find rich meaning in their lives; we also ask our young people to act responsibly and, sometimes, boldly, to fulfill that promise. So, too, do we ask these same things of our School community. Your greatest gift, John, has been a renewal of our confidence in the noble purposes of this wonderful place. For that, John, we, and all future generations, will remain eternally grateful.

In recognition of all you have done, and for all you mean, to Hopkins School, it is my deep pleasure to present you with the 2004 Hopkins Medal.

Barbara M. Riley