Kennedy Richardson writes:
Ever since graduation, I have always been known as, among other things, a Physics Major. Frequently with quizzical looks, people would ask “How did you ever get from Physics to managing an equity fund at Fidelity?” So to start near the beginning, when I arrived at Williams, I fully intended to major in Mathematics. Receiving advanced placement into sophomore math, I actually had to work for the first time and received a B+ in the course, my worst performance in math ever. I was devastated. Meanwhile at 8 AM on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, I was taking Physics 103 with “Papa” Stabler; a kindly, inquisitive, albeit somewhat absentminded, professor. (My first Physics teacher at Belmont Hill was also someone I had loved and I was deeply honored to give the eulogy at his funeral.) He would end each class with an experiment, always teaching, but occasionally with catastrophic results. Our favorite was the demonstration of the bell curve distribution with about 10,000 ball bearings. He forgot to place the trap in the bottom of the large glass container — no bell curve, but rather 10,000 ball bearings all over the floor.
Class and assignments were always a wonderful exploration of some puzzle of the physical universe. What makes a rainbow? Why is the sky blue? And the first of Einstein’s famous thought experiments on relativity: Why do two men in two trains traveling at the same speed next to each other appear stationary? One day Dr. Stabler told us in passing that in Physics you would solve problems, while in Math you would discuss how you might address how one might solve a problem. By winter break I was hooked. Incidentally, I cannot remember the name of my first Williams math professor.
For four years, it was always figuring out a wonderfully complex series of puzzles about the physical universe. What is really going on here? What are the two or three key factors driving the phenomenon you were studying? In the end, there was always Dr. Stabler’s recommendation, “Please conclude with a few simple English words to summarize.” Vintage scientific instruction at a classical liberal arts college.
Outside of class it was four years on the ski team. Fairly consistently on the winter carnival team but a very long way from number one (always John McGill). Plenty of hard work, lots of crashes, and always picking yourself up for the next race. All measured to 0.1 seconds. (More on 0.1 later.)
By senior year, I loved my major, but knew a career in engineering or academics was not for me. The summer before, a fellowship at Brookhaven National Laboratory had convinced me. Next came Harvard Business School, and in 1973 on graduation, a career in investment management.
Somewhat surprisingly, picking apart a stock was a lot like doing Physics problems. What are the two or three factors really driving the outcome? Get to a conclusion. The few simple English words became two — ”buy” or “sell”. With a diversified fund it was much more multivariable. How do all the pieces fit together? While unlike Physics, you could never ignore the human element in security prices. All those humanities courses really did matter. Starting a fund at Fidelity in 1985, I was once again measured quite precisely; to be exact, in increments of .01% of return, every 24 hours for 23 years. I have often joked that when they make you a diversified portfolio manager at Fidelity, they give you two things — a Bloomberg terminal, and a cyanide capsule, with one instruction: if one does not work, try the other.
Managing a fund, like Physics, was a great intellectual game, perhaps the greatest ever invented. You also get to compete against some of the most aggressive and finest minds anywhere. As an added plus they even pay you. There is always a stumble or fall, just like sports (sounds like ski racing) where you have to pick yourself up, learn from the error and go on. I always liked to hire athletes with a great education, most notably my successor, Forrest St. Clair, Williams ’97, Biology major, baseball team.
So today, I placed a couple of trades on the money I still manage for myself, went to physical therapy for my new right hip (so many happy memories of wearing out the old one) and over lunch I watched a thirty minute lecture from an online refresher course in quantum mechanics. This time, a first time for me, given by a very talented female professor from Purdue exceptionally good at “the few simple English words.”
So that is how I got from A to B. Some things are constant, and some things change. See you in Oxford, at the 50th, or hopefully before.