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Grounded in Reality
The notion of competence has always intrigued me. As a kid, I naturally admired great people—Albert Schweitzer and JFK were favorites. I also focused on the problem of what made people incompetent—especially me, of course. I was a mediocre student in an extraordinarily competitive environment. In the 60s, elementary and grade schools were tough, and high schools were especially unforgiving. If we got an F, we flunked out of school. They held us back a year. If we really messed up, we were suspended or expelled and our parents went ballistic. It was a different world back then.I was reminded lately of my fascination with competence. I was working in the front garden by the road when a neighbor drove by, slowed down and said hello. Technically, I have very few neighbors—owners of 60-acre farms seldom do. I hadn’t gotten to know Jim well. I knew he had miserable, job-related problems, as the hapless president of a local educational institution. He was always slightly grimacing. I knew he’d chosen an “early retirement”, mainly because of a series of horrible decisions he’d made that cost his organization millions. So I wasn’t at all prepared for the broadly smiling, Hawaiian-shirted, carefree “Jimbo”, easing to a stop in a light brown 1952 Ford Crestliner Victoria in perfect condition—a genuine creampuff. I hadn’t ever seen Jim grin ear-to-ear, and I hadn’t seen an immaculate ‘52 Ford in over 45 years.
Jim had been either a school headmaster or college president for his entire career and in psychic pain the whole time. Someone had told him when he was a boy that being an automobile mechanic was a poor vocational choice, having none of the glamour and prestige of academic administration. So he had turned away from his passion, and slogged through a PhD in education. And he was dreadful at it. During the day, nothing worked. But at night, like Batman, he had a separate life. He was a classic car restoration specialist and, by the looks of the Crestliner, a superb one. After seeing Jim’s bizarre alter ego in the sunlight, I asked others around town if they were aware of his unique accomplishment as an automobile artist. But no one knew.
If Jim had been a hospital president, he’d have washed out years ago. The community wouldn’t have tolerated a dysfunctional, failing hospital. But these are just “kids”, so no one pays attention. As a society we care very little about our youth, and the results of this narcissism are tragic. Literacy in the U.S. is at an all time low. Families have to educate their children—the schools won’t do it.
Jim is happily retiring. His successor will spend the next 5 years repairing the damage he left behind. Therefore, incompetence is hugely important. It is generally not tolerated in scientists, engineers, mathematicians, data analysts, translators, physicians, attorneys and judges. We not only expect competence from them—we demand it. Aptitude tests measure their potential, while professional societies, review boards and peer committees monitor their conduct.
Yet, oddly, there are vast sectors of society where we blank out, and expect no competence whatsoever: politics, the news media and education are the most obvious examples. We demand no accountability in these jobs. If an astronomer, heart surgeon or bridge builder messed up like legislators, reporters and teachers do frequently, they’d be dismissed immediately from their professions.
Plant science is exactly the same—get climatic adaptation right or the plants die. Look for the beating heart of horticultural science and you find it in plant pathology. The competence of a nursery staff is tested by disease and infestation. The soft, fuzzy and unaccountable side of the plant business is garden writing and journalism. Anything goes in the newspapers and internet. On the other hand, the well-grounded, scientific side is plant pathology, nursery production and genetics. The proof is in the pudding. “Are the plants healthy?”
For example, while garden pundits and self-styled industry experts criticized our relocation, the overwhelming majority of our customers applauded. We’ve just had a banner year, sold out of nearly half our rare plant inventory already by mid April, and last weekend hosted over 2,000 paying guests at our first 2007 Open, held in conjunction with The Garden Conservancy. We moved from a warm, wet zone 8 to three nursery locations in zones 5, 6 and 7. Our customers—gardeners to the core—have appreciated the move and they’re the ones who count.
Pictures from the 2007 Hellebore open
More information on upcoming Opens