Uncle Don

Ken Matsumoto

Don McLean begin visiting Tokyo office in the autumn of 1951 because of his work for the Preparatory Committee of the International House of Japan, work in which Doctor Yasaka Takagi and my father were also deeply involved. He occasionally came to our house and shared dinner with our family. His cheerful nature charmed all of us from the beginning. I was allowed to call this frequent guest Uncle Don, a privilege I enjoyed throughout our long relationship. My mother was greatly impressed by Uncle Don, and my father always praised him as one of the most exceptional man he had ever known, regardless of nationality. The three children, Hiroshi, Misao, and myself, could not speak English well but we were delighted when Uncle Don visited.

In the summer of 1954, I traveled from Japan to the United States to enroll at Swarthmore College, Uncle Don and his wife, Martha, invited me to stay at their home in Summit, New Jersey, whenever I want during my four years of college. They asked me to celebrate almost every Thanksgiving and Christmas with them. I also spent many of my summer vacations at their home. Occasionally my mother, my sister Misao, and my high school friend Yuji Ito joined us. The McLeans treated me with love and respect, like a member of their family. Those days were full of rest and enjoyment.

When I stayed in the McLean's home, I saw advice from Uncle Don. It was usually late at night, when he was just about to retire. He was never reluctant to listen and always heard me out with great patience. The problems I needed to discuss included academic matters and my future career. When I finish talking, he often said reassuringly, “Ken, I would not worry about it so much. You are doing okay." His words of encouragement strengthened my resolve to meet future challenges.

Because of my inadequate English, the academic requirements at Swarthmore were difficult. Years later, Uncle Don told me, "I was concerned about you in those early days because your English ability was not very good.” Indeed, without the warm and wise support of Uncle Don and his family, I might have failed in my studies

The McLeans provided me with a valuable introduction to American family life, ways of thinking, and culture. Since I trusted Uncle Don so deeply, I believed I could trust other Americans, too. He made me forget that he was American and I was Japanese. Uncle Don was a truly international man.

Late one afternoon in August 1958, I sat with Uncle Don in his office at Rockefeller Plaza in New York. I was scheduled to board a freighter in Brooklyn bound for Japan at 10 that evening. I had a problem: how to transfer my heavy steamer trunk weighing eighty pounds from McLean's home in Summit to Brooklyn. We had only a few hours before the freighter departed. Uncle Don’s station wagon was at his summer house in Québec, and no taxi driver was willing to transport such a heavy trunk.

Uncle Don called several friends in Summit and tried to borrow a station wagon. It wasn't easy to find, but he was persistent and eventually persuaded a friend to drive us to Brooklyn in his Jeep. Uncle Don accompanied me after work and we hurried to Summit by train. We then drove quickly and arrived at the pier in Brooklyn just in time. We carried the trunk into my cabin on the freighter. Uncle Don took a small box out of his pocket. It contained a set of cufflinks that he had purchased in Japan. “I'll give these to my friend who drove us here, I'll tell him they are a gift from you, so don't worry about any further obligation to thank him," Uncle Don explained quietly. I looked at Uncle Don silently, overwhelmed by his boundless consideration. He was indeed a noble man

One bit of uncle Don's advice that I recall from time to time is "First things first." He told me this when I was a freshman in college. When I attended graduate school in Tokyo five years later, I received a letter from Uncle Don in which she wrote, "I hope you are still putting first things first." He remained concerned with my personal development and achievements even after I returned to Japan.

In March, 1977, my wife Junko and I were preparing to leave Auburn, New York, where we lived for three years. I had worked as a board member of a small Japanese-owned steel mill. To attend our farewell dinner, Uncle Don and Martha flew in from Andover, Massachusetts. Uncle Don gave me a standing ovation for my farewell speech. He also wrote the two page letter describing the occasion to Dr. Takagi in Tokyo. In the letter, Uncle Don told of the good relations I had developed with my American colleagues throughout the company. It was Uncle Don who helped me to understand Americans and to be confident when working with them.

In September 1982, Uncle Don returned to Tokyo with Martha to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the International House of Japan, an organization to which he made immeasurable contributions. On that occasion, he presented me with a magnificent picture of himself upon which she had written, “To Ken, with pleasant memories of your days as a member of our family in summit. Don.”  Written or spoken, his words were always the expressions of sincere affection and encouragement to me.

He exemplified a man of high ideals. He was an inspiration to me and will continue to be so. My life has been influenced and enriched enormously through my association with him. 

I hope that I will be able to treat others in the kind way Uncle Don always treated me. My experiences with him we're blessings.

Ken Matsumoto was in effect of member of the McLean family while he was a student at Swarthmore College. An officer in steel companies in Japan and United States, he has,  since 1984, been director of the Fair Trade Center in Japan.

The sweet selected few

James B. Burke

One of Don McLean's interests while he and Martha lived in Summit New Jersey, was his membership in the Monday Night Club. This was an is a group of about twenty self-perpetuating Summit men who met on the last Monday evenings of October through May with a gap in December because of Christmas. The club was organized in 1882 and has never missed season during the intervening one hundred and four years. Because of its small numbers, the Club is not discussed publicly, so the general ignorance in the community as to his existence is comparable to the purity of ivory soap, 99.44%!

The members meet at their respective homes under a schedule prepared by the Secretary. Each evening includes a black tie dinner preceded by a cocktail hour of modest length. After dinner the members in attendance, generally sixteen or seventeen, assemble for the reading of the minutes. This item of business having been dispatched, the meeting proceeds to the raison d'être of the evening, the reading of his paper by the distinguished member on a subject of his choice - hopefully not over 30 minutes in length. Then, after a break for whistle-wetting the members reassembled for a short comment by each on the essayist’s efforts.

The wife of the host has the burden of planning and preparing the dinner. The husband selects the wines and is the gracious host, giving the impression that the dinner is no trouble at all - as it is not, in fact, for him. At the appointed hour, or, to be on the safe side, say thirty minutes earlier, the hard-working wife makes herself scarce for the evening. If she retired to her, or hopefully their, bedroom with the thought of putting herself to sleep with the TV, it must be turned down so low that she can hardly hear it in order that is not disturb distinguished company.

Equal opportunity of the sexes has never been a provision of the governing charter by-laws, or the traditions and practice of the club. The members have had and still have a secret smugness in their intellectual masculinity and could happily recite the jingle of Oliver Goldsmith:

“You are the sweet selected few,

Let all the rest be damned.

There's room enough in Hell for you, 

We can’t have heaven crammed."

In fact, this would be more appropriate than the Pledge of Allegiance with which some meetings have been open. The writer’s late wife used to refer to the group as “precious as hell." But one cannot ignore over one hundred years of vital life. Lately in the nature of a "good conduct" medal, the club has established the custom of bang-up dinners in honor of the loved and perhaps unfairly burdened spouses, thus bringing them within the compass of Goldsmiths “sweet selected few.” It seems to help.

At one meeting, the wife of the house, wishing to hear the paper, put on a dressing gown and lay down on the second floor landing. She was so comfortable for the SAS so dull that she went sound asleep. Suddenly she became conscious that there was a guest on the stairs one step from the landing. It was evidently in need of what they now deceased Harvard Law school professor of real property called an"easement by necessity" Friends when he explained to the Cambridge police his post-subway delay at 1 AM in the Harvard Square.) With the instinctive understanding of a suddenly alerted a sleeping cat, She said: "down the hall, third door to the left," and went back to her sleep.

Donald McLean was an able and busy lawyer with far from parochial interests. The titles of his essays reflected his concern with worldwide problems, their possible solution, and the consequent improvement of society. His comments following the reading of other papers we're of uniform acumen and grace, with a good scattering of dry wit. One realized in the intimacy of the small group that here was a man and friend who would leave his mark for the betterment of all that he touched.

James B Burke is a former Secretary of the Monday Night Club of Summit. A graduate of Harvard Law school was a partner in a New York City law firm for over fifty years.