Just a Janitor?

[hops_scout]

A JANITOR'S 10 LESSONS IN LEADERSHIP

By Col. James Moschgat, 12th Operations Group Commander

 

William "Bill" Crawford certainly was an unimpressive figure, one you

could easily overlook during a hectic day at the U.S. Air Force

Academy. Mr. Crawford, as most of us referred to him back in the late

1970s, was our squadron janitor.

 

While we cadets busied ourselves preparing for academic exams, athletic

events, Saturday morning parades and room inspections, or never-ending

leadership classes, Bill quietly moved about the squadron mopping and

buffing floors, emptying trash cans, cleaning toilets, or just tidying

up the mess 100 college-age kids can leave in a dormitory. Sadly, and

for many years, few of us gave him much notice, rendering little more

than a passing nod or throwing a curt, "G'morning!" in his direction as

we hurried off to our daily duties.

 

Why? Perhaps it was because of the way he did his job-he always kept

the squadron area spotlessly clean, even the toilets and showers

gleamed. Frankly, he did his job so well, none of us had to notice or

get involved. After all, cleaning toilets was his job, not ours. Maybe

it was is physical appearance that made him disappear into the

background. Bill didn't move very quickly and, in fact, you could say

he even shuffled a bit, as if he suffered from some sort of injury. His

gray hair and wrinkled face made him appear ancient to a group of young

cadets. And his crooked smile, well, it looked a little funny. Face it,

Bill was an old man working in a young person's world. What did he have

to offer us on a personal level?

 

Finally, maybe it was Mr. Crawford's personality that rendered him

almost invisible to the young people around him. Bill was shy, almost

painfully so. He seldom spoke to a cadet unless they addressed him

first, and that didn't happen very often. Our janitor always buried

himself in his work, moving about with stooped shoulders, a quiet gait,

and an averted gaze. If he noticed the hustle and bustle of cadet life

around him, it was hard to tell. So, for whatever reason, Bill blended

into the woodwork and became just another fixture around the squadron.

The Academy, one of our nation's premier leadership laboratories, kept

us busy from dawn till dusk. And Mr. Crawford...well, he was just a

janitor.

 

That changed one fall Saturday afternoon in 1976. I was reading a book

about World War II and the tough Allied ground campaign in Italy, when I

stumbled across an incredible story. On September 13, 1943, a Private

William Crawford from Colorado, assigned to the 36th Infantry Division,

had been involved in some bloody fighting on Hill 424 near Altavilla,

Italy. The words on the page leapt out at me: "in the face of intense

and overwhelming hostile fire ... with no regard for personal safety ...

on his own initiative, Private Crawford single-handedly attacked

fortified enemy positions." It continued, "for conspicuous gallantry and

intrepidity at risk of life above and beyond the call of duty, the

President of the United States..."

 

"Holy cow," I said to my roommate, "you're not going to believe this,

but I think our janitor is a Medal of Honor winner." We all knew Mr.

Crawford was a WWII Army vet, but that didn't keep my friend from

looking at me as if I was some sort of alien being. Nonetheless, we

couldn't wait to ask Bill about the story on Monday. We met Mr.

Crawford bright and early Monday and showed him the page in question

from the book, anticipation and doubt in our faces. He starred at it

for a few silent moments and then quietly uttered something like, "Yep,

that's me."

 

Mouths agape, my roommate and I looked at one another, then at the book,

and quickly back at our janitor. Almost at once we both stuttered, "Why

didn't you ever tell us about it?" He slowly replied after some

thought, "That was one day in my life and it happened a long time ago."

 

I guess we were all at a loss for words after that. We had to hurry off

to class and Bill, well, he had chores to attend to. However, after

that brief exchange, things were never again the same around our

squadron. Word spread like wildfire among the cadets that we had a hero

in our midst--Mr. Crawford, our janitor, had won the Medal! Cadets who

had once passed by Bill with hardly a glance, now greeted him with a

smile and a respectful, "Good morning, Mr. Crawford." Those who had

before left a mess for the "janitor" to clean up started taking it upon

themselves to put things in order. Most cadets routinely stopped to

talk to Bill throughout the day and we even began inviting him to our

formal squadron functions. He'd show up dressed in a conservative dark

suit and quietly talk to those who approached him, the only sign of his

heroics being a simple blue, star-spangled lapel pin.

 

Almost overnight, Bill went from being a simple fixture in our squadron

to one of our teammates. Mr. Crawford changed too, but you had to look

closely to notice the difference. After that fall day in 1976, he

seemed to move with more purpose, his shoulders didn't seem to be as

stooped, he met our greetings with a direct gaze and a stronger "good

morning" in return, and he flashed his crooked smile more often. The

squadron gleamed as always, but everyone now seemed to notice it more.

Bill even got to know most of us by our first names, something that

didn't happen often at the Academy. While no one ever formally

acknowledged the change, I think we became Bill's cadets and his

squadron. As often happens in life, events sweep us away from those in

our past.

 

The last time I saw Bill was on graduation day in June 1977. As I

walked out of the squadron for the last time, he shook my hand and

simply said, "Good luck, young man." With that, I embarked on a career

that has been truly lucky and blessed. Mr. Crawford continued to work

at the Academy and eventually retired in his native Colorado where he

resides today, one of four Medal of Honor winners living in a small

town.

 

A wise person once said, "It's not life that's important, but those you

meet along the way that make the difference." Bill was one who made a

difference for me. While I haven't seen Mr. Crawford in over twenty

years, he'd probably be surprised to know I think of him often. Bill

Crawford, our janitor, taught me many valuable, unforgettable leadership

lessons. Here are ten I'd like to share with you.

 

1. Be Cautious of Labels. Labels you place on people may define your

relationship to them and bound their potential. Sadly, and for a long

time, we labeled Bill as just a janitor, but he was so much more.

Therefore, be cautious of a leader who callously says, "Hey, he's just

an Airman." Likewise, don't tolerate the O-1, who says, "I can't do

that, I'm just a lieutenant."

 

2. Everyone Deserves Respect. Because we hung the "janitor" label on

Mr. Crawford, we often wrongly treated him with less respect than others

around us. He deserved much more, and not just because he was a Medal of

Honor winner. Bill deserved respect because he was a janitor, walked

among us, and was a part of our team.

 

3. Courtesy Makes a Difference. Be courteous to all around you,

regardless of rank or position. Military customs, as well as common

courtesies, help bond a team. When our daily words to Mr. Crawford

turned from perfunctory "hellos" to heartfelt greetings, his demeanor

and personality outwardly changed. It made a difference for all of us.

 

4. Take Time to Know Your People. Life in the military is hectic, but

that's no excuse for not knowing the people you work for and with. For

years a hero walked among us at the Academy and we never knew it. Who

are the heroes that walk in your midst?

 

5. Anyone Can Be a Hero. Mr. Crawford certainly didn't fit anyone's

standard definition of a hero. Moreover, he was just a private on the

day he won his Medal. Don't sell your people short, for any one of them

may be the hero who rises to the occasion when duty calls. On the other

hand, it's easy to turn to your proven performers when the chips are

down, but don't ignore the rest of the team. Today's rookie could and

should be tomorrow's superstar.

 

6. Leaders Should Be Humble. Most modern day heroes and some leaders

are anything but humble, especially if you calibrate your "hero meter"

on today's athletic fields. End zone celebrations and self-

aggrandizement are what we've come to expect from sports greats. Not

Mr. Crawford-he was too busy working to celebrate his past heroics.

Leaders would be well-served to do the same.

 

7. Life Won't Always Hand You What You Think You Deserve. We in the

military work hard and, dang it, we deserve recognition, right?

However, sometimes you just have to persevere, even when accolades don't

come your way. Perhaps you weren't nominated for junior officer or

airman of the quarter as you thought you should - don't let that stop

you.

 

8. Don't pursue glory; pursue excellence. Private Bill Crawford didn't

pursue glory; he did his duty and then swept floors for a living. No job

is Beneath a Leader. If Bill Crawford, a Medal of Honor winner, could

clean latrines and smile, is there a job beneath your dignity? Think

about it.

 

9. Pursue Excellence. No matter what task life hands you, do it well.

Dr. Martin Luther King said, "If life makes you a street sweeper, be the

best street sweeper you can be." Mr. Crawford modeled that philosophy

and helped make our dormitory area a home.

 

10. Life is a Leadership Laboratory. All too often we look to some

school or PME class to teach us about leadership when, in fact, life is

a leadership laboratory. Those you meet everyday will teach you

enduring lessons if you just take time to stop, look and listen. I

spent four years at the Air Force Academy, took dozens of classes, read

hundreds of books, and met thousands of great people. I gleaned

leadership skills from all of them, but one of the people I remember

most is Mr. Bill Crawford and the lessons he unknowingly taught. Don't

miss your opportunity to learn.

 

 

My history teacher from last year read this to us. I recently found it on the internet and since I liked it so much, thought I would share what has helped me some;)

[Eamonn]

Thanks Hops.Some very wise words of wisdom there I really enjoyed reading it.

Eamonn

[frank10]

Hops,

My mother always told me me to believe what I hear and only half of what I see. So when I read some thing like this I can't help but to check it out. In just about every case I can go to Google.com and enter a few key words from the story along with either myth or hoax and up pops the truth...

I'm glad to say this one checks out. More than that, it doesn't tell half the story! Check out http://www.homeofheroes.com/profiles/profiles_crawford.html

Don't miss page two, It will confuse you for a bit but then become clear and even more interesting.

(Also notice on page 3 which president put things right)

Great story, thanks for bringing it to our attention.

[hops_scout]

Ok, yeah when I heard it and then found it more than once, I knew it was true.

[Bob White]

To read the individual actions of 3400 people who have been presented the Medal of Honor between 1863 and 1973 check out this site.

 

http://www.army.mil/cmh-pg/moh1.htm

 

 

[red feather]

Thanks Hops for showing all of us lessons that we need to keep in mind.

 

yis

[eisely]

Excellent post.

[le Voyageur]

 

The largest number of medals to be awarded for a single engagement against unarmed "combatants", 18 medals on 19 December 1890 at Wounded Knee....

[Adrianvs]

You know what they say, Le Voyageur.

 

"History is written by the petulant grandchildren of the victor."

[LovetoCamp]

The 7th Cavalry got those field guns laid on pretty well. Probably not a real smart thing to do, pick a fight with the cavalry when your outnumbered three to one with your families present.

[Fat Old Guy]

"The largest number of medals to be awarded for a single engagement against unarmed "combatants", 18 medals on 19 December 1890 at Wounded Knee..."

 

Why don't I hear anyone crying for the citizens of Dresden, Berlin, and Tokyo that died during bombing raids? They were non-combatants.

 

What about the women and children that were killed by the Indians during the during the colonial era and the westward expansion?

 

 

[Fat Old Guy]

"Ok, yeah when I heard it and then found it more than once, I knew it was true."

 

One can find the same erroneous "fact" numerous times on the Internet.

 

(This message has been edited by Fat Old Guy)

[LovetoCamp]

Across the ocean came these dirt poor, starving farmers from Central and Eastern Europe came to farm on a couple acres of dirt to feed their hungry families. The Sac and Fox and Pottawatomi who ranged all across the Northwest Territories of the early 1800's had plenty of land to hunt on. Heck, there's still enough land to hunt on. Who here is brave enough to wear a furry brown coat anywhere in Wisconsin in November? Not me. Let me continue. The Sac and Fox and Pottawatomi, who by the way, committed genocide upon the Illiniwek Confederation, didn't want to let these poor starving farmers till a few acres of dirt, so they would come upon a farm and wipe out the family. What kind of stud finds it so heroic to cut the top of a little girl's head off and count it as a War Victory? These farmers never hurt anyone and never affected the hunting grounds. They wore those little blonde girl's scalps as badges of honor. I don't find that too honorable.

[le Voyageur]

hmmmm.....guess it's time to start another thread on genocide/democide, hey....

 

So, what century do you want?