Flinn Scholars share memories of first Flinn CEO John Murphy

Rebecca Bruner, Flinn Scholar Class of 1986

John had a smile that lit up his face. As I recall, he was always smiling. He was a great listener. Every time I talked to him, I felt like he was truly interested in what I had to say. I’m grateful to have had the chance to know him.

Marla Smith-Nilson, Flinn Scholar Class of 1987

I imagine the initial vision of the scholarship was to keep Arizona’s best students in Arizona. In that sense, I was not the ideal pick. I was never leaving the state to go to school.

When you are from a small high school that isn’t focused on producing college-bound students, when a private out-of-state school seems so impossibly expensive, and when you’re figuring it out completely on your own at home, your choices are limited. I was all three. The University of Arizona was the only place I ever considered.

There are moments in life that alter your trajectory, moments that open a door you didn’t think you were allowed to walk through. That scholarship was one of those moments for me. When the application came in the mail, I actually threw it away, so immediately convinced that this wasn’t for me. I can still picture the trash can I placed it in, it’s embedded in my memory, because I eventually fished it back out and applied.

Somehow, despite what I know was a terrible interview that still makes me feel embarrassed, John and Barbra (Barnes) and the interview team saw potential I couldn’t yet see in myself. For years in the program, I wrestled with the feeling that I didn’t belong. I mean, I had to pretend I knew what AP classes actually were for years! And the caliber of Flinn students at that time was so impressive — for goodness’ sakes one of them is suing House Speaker Mike Johnson right now as AG of Arizona. I couldn’t compete with that.

But John and his team never stopped believing in me. Their encouragement didn’t just keep me going, it changed the course of my life. The scholarship didn’t just create opportunities; it gave people like me permission to imagine a bigger future.

I don’t have a specific memory that stands out, no dramatic or funny anecdote, just years of all the little moments where I was included and shown so many ways that I belonged. Even writing this now more than 40 years later, it makes me tear up. Thank God for this man. I know I’m not the only Flinn Scholar with a story like this. I hope John knew how much actually seeing us impacted our lives.

Karyn Fox, Flinn Scholar Class of 1990

At the last Flinn Scholars reunion, I was delighted to see John. How many years had passed? To how many, many scholars had he offered that something of a wry-wink-and-a-smile? And yet he greeted me directly, by name, with keen recollections, curiosity, compassion and that smile. I appreciated this at the time, as I do now.

In a letter of recommendation John provided me with in college, he wrote that I “lacked steel”. No steel? Oh no, I didn’t have steel. Clearly this was a liability and something I would need to cultivate. Then he added, I paraphrase, that steel I have in quantity. At the time, I thought John didn’t know me well — how could he, one among so many, and we hadn’t had much time together. But with his keen eye and astute observations, John had nailed it (no pun intended). He helped me to see that a quieter, softer exterior wouldn’t hold me back from drawing on that steel inside when I needed it. This may be the only phrase from any such letter I recall, and one that comes to mind, even after all these years.

Matt Ellsworth, Flinn Scholar Class of 1993

The email I received from John Murphy had a typical John subject line: “May It Prove Helpful.” A file was attached.

This was in mid-May. The document he sent carried a similarly understated title, “Jottings.” Over 56 pages(!), it spanned the day in November 1980 that, as a consultant from the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, he first visited with the trustees of the Flinn Foundation, to the day in June 2009 that he stepped out of the office for the last time.

John asked that we at the Flinn Foundation not publish his reflection, and I won’t describe its details, but I want to share just a few lessons for those of us in foundation work.

• We owe the communities we serve curiosity and deep expertise. John had less experience than his successors when hired—he wasn’t yet 45—but he was knowledgeable about health policy from his time at RWJF and he asked questions. He took his brief time with Dr. Flinn seriously, identified subject-matter experts to consult with the Flinn board, and hired a brilliant first staff.

• Supporting the philanthropic ecosystem yields great returns. Nationally, John helped to form foundation associations that have in turn been Flinn partners and guides for decades. Within Arizona, as new foundations emerged, John offered strategic counsel, and these grantmakers’ activities in healthcare enabled Flinn to focus on the biosciences.

• To sustain our careers, personal connection is vital. In his reflection, John acknowledges late years at Flinn increasingly filled by meetings and presentations. Around that time, in 2007, I joined the staff. I recall one of his Friday after-lunch traditions: emailing three or four Flinn Scholars from 10 or 20 years earlier, just to ask what was new. (One afternoon, I heard hip hop ricocheting into the hallway from his office. Scholar Keren Raz had introduced John to Kanye West.) But these moments had grown hard to find, and that contributed to his decision to retire in 2009.

One more note on John’s time at Flinn:

Several months ago, I was working through some computer files from my colleague Brad Halvorsen, who retired last year. I found an obscurely named item from 1991 in an old file format Word wouldn’t open. I finally found a way in and saw it was a memo to staff from John. Turns out, it was guidance for us all:

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This office is √√notƒƒ the Flinn Foundation. The real Flinn Foundation is to be found outside these walls, throughout Arizona. This is merely where the administrative necessities take place. It is time to leave your post here as much as possible, and hit the road. Find the news amongst your grantees, and look into what they’re doing. Your job is now along the Arizona road as much as it is here in the office. I think you’re going to love it. You should shoot for one site visit a week©©at least©©beginning in, say, August. Do it now. Make the contacts now. Not later.

Mary Fan, Flinn Scholar Class of 1997

John’s amazing smile would light up a room and make you feel you could do anything. He was a visionary who transformed so many lives and strengthened our community and state.

Jennifer Richards, Flinn Scholar Class of 2000

“My favorite memories of John were in Budapest, Hungary. For context, I’m a total “Rez [reservation] kid,” through and through. I was born and raised on the Navajo Nation and, while I’d traveled, it was to powwows, rodeos, and basketball tournaments throughout “Indian Country.” I’d never left the country.

Traveling to Hungary was a huge step for me. I think that’s why John checked on me frequently throughout the trip. I always felt like he wanted me to succeed for a larger purpose — he held a high regard for tribal nations in Arizona. He spearheaded Flinn’s contributions to tribal nations for years. As a junior high school student in Tuba City, I was part of the “Flinns” — a math/science enhancement program that promoted Native students in STEM fields.

Then I became a Flinn Scholar and, most recently, a Flinn-Brown Fellow. When we were in Hungary about 25 years ago, our group stopped in a little jazzy restaurant for dinner and it had a karaoke stage. John was up there singing (terribly) with the rest of us, and having a great time. The next night, he went Hungarian folk dancing with us. Again, laughing and living life to the fullest. Somewhere in my mom’s garage, there are pictures of John laughing and enjoying the Hungarian nights with us. That was John — he never felt unapproachable and always made the Flinns feel like family.

When we were in Romania, there was an incident where I was followed in a store by the store owner. He thought I was Roma (“gypsy”), and that I was going to steal from him. In the bus, one of my friends told John about the incident, and he joined me for a walk in the next Romanian town. I did my best to shrug off the incident, but John took it seriously.

He said that he was so proud to have me in the “Flinn family” because I represented what the scholarship was about — building up Arizona. We talked about how those experiences with adversity, and how I handle them, only make me stronger. He said that my commitment to Arizona is part of my ancestors’ legacy, and he knew I’d make good on it. And I strive to do this every day as a mother, relative, professor, researcher, and policy advocate for American Indian people.

When I look back on the long list of people who deserve credit for my success, John Murphy is right up there. I’m grateful that he encouraged Flinn’s investment in tribal nations, and this particular “Rez kid,” all those years ago. I’d like to express my heartfelt condolences to John’s family. Ahéhee’ (thank you) to John’s family for sharing your husband, father, and grandfather with us for so many years. I hope all of the beautiful memories bring you comfort this holiday season.