Mr. Write's Page

One of the characteristics of a large organization, whether a business, a government agency, or other large entity, is the presence of a formal group history.

Through the years, members of the group solemnly document, and ritually acknowledge, this common heritage. They honor, cherish, and celebrate it with pride.

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Sometime in 2004, I was working hard at my desk as usual, when my telephone rang. It was Larry.

“Come over to my office,” he said. The glee in his voice was unmistakable. “This is too good.” He hung up.

Immediately, I went next door and sat down in front of Larry’s desk.

“They want me to design a new display case for this building, next to the front entrance,“ he said with barely controlled delight. “A Lithonia history type of thing. No problem. I have plenty of material left over from that display we built in the Lighting Center.”

He chuckled. I knew this was shaping up to be really good. I always trust Larry on these things.

“I was thinking,” he said. “I have this great photo Loretta gave me, of a relative of hers — a third cousin or something from the 1800s. What if we passed him off as one of the founding fathers of Lithonia Lighting?”

A light bulb went on above my head. Larry was way ahead of me.

“I already have his name,” he snickered. “Lorenzo Luminelli!”

“This is good,” I said, rubbing my hands. “This is really good. Lorenzo Luminelli… a scientist… he influenced the founders of Lithonia Lighting to…”

“Lorenzo Luminelli, the Father of Luminescence!” he declared, joyfully pounding the desk.

“I don’t care about the rest,” he said. “Write up something. Do your thing! Just make it believable. I’ll have it typeset, we’ll add the photo, and into the display case it goes.”

“The thing is, they won’t notice this one little element in the display,” he said. ” They want to get the project done, but they don’t care about the details. Trust me, it’s foolproof!”

I stood up. “Larry, you’re a genius,“ I said. “An absolute genius.”

I went back to my office, sat down, and got out a yellow pad. The story of Lorenzo Luminelli came effortlessly. Believable? Oh, yes.

The next day, I took the draft to Larry. He read through it, chuckling ever more as he progressed.

He pounded his desk again. “This is perfect — perfect,“ he said. “But he needs a middle name. A middle name adds, you know, importance.”

“Ah — gravitas,” I said. “Good idea. Hmmm.”

“Garibaldi!” he exclaimed. “Lorenzo Garibaldi Luminelli!”

I answered with an emphatic double thumbs-up.

Weeks passed, and the display case project went forward. I had no role at that point, so I turned my attention back to the actual work of the department.

Then one morning, my phone rang, and it was Larry. “Lorenzo goes into the display case today,” he said. “The unveiling is tomorrow. Wanna see how our boy came out?”

Five seconds later, I was sitting in front of his desk.

The result, in my estimation, was superb. A tour de force. For the umpteenth time, I mentally tipped my hat to the master.

In 2004, Lorenzo G. Luminelli assumed his position as one of the fathers of Lithonia Lighting. I retired from the company in 2005. Larry retired in 2008. But the display case still stands, inside the entrance to our old building.

And Lorenzo Luminelli also remains, a giant in the history of that great company, destined to be celebrated with pride by succeeding generations of employees.

Such is their heritage.

 

ADDENDUM

Lithonia Lighting, Inc. was founded in 1946 in Lithonia, Georgia, by Samuel P. Freeman, who served for many years as Chairman of the Board. I  have no idea if Mr. Freeman attended the Chicago World’s Fair, which, by the way, was held in 1939, not 1938.