February, 2010
by Margaret Greenberg
I think of him when I pass my desk and look at the bookend,/trophy, which I've meant to reassign to another spot on a bookcase or shelf. This lonely single object, an avatar of sorts, has been in my possession since the late 1980s after a MICS (MVS Integrated Control System) class at Morino Associates, in Vienna, VA.
Over the summer, when Denise Kalm and I were thinking of someone to profile, I had just uncovered a stack of papers that temporarily hid the trophy and, once again, muttered to myself, "Wonder whatever happened to Mario Morino." Denise had no idea that he was the 1990 Michelson recipient and had written three papers that might be modified somewhat and republished for CMG2010.
His upbringing and professional activities have greatly influenced what he is doing today.
Mario Marino grew up in Cleveland, Ohio at the time Lake Erie and the Cuyahoga River were growing algae and filling with industrial waste. The Cayahoga actually caught fire. Seriously. And it happened multiple times. His father was a vacuum cleaner salesman His parents always made an effort to help others in need---no matter their own bank balance. Though neither parent graduated high school, they placed a premium on education though money was often tight. In Mario's word, "When I started college in the 1960s, I had every intention of becoming a math teacher and coaching baseball. While I was growing up in a poor section of Cleveland, several teachers and coaches had played influential roles in my young life, and I wanted to follow their example. But in college I soon became disillusioned with some of the administrative aspects of teaching and the attitude of too many fellow education students who viewed teaching as "just a job."
So midway through college, I changed career paths and instead became a computer programmer and analyst, and I transferred from Ohio University to Kent State University. During the years 1964 through 1967, I worked with what was then the Euclid Division of General Motors Corporation in Ohio and with the Eaton Corporation's telecommunications group. All the while I was attending college - Kent State for a year, Cuyahoga Community College for a semester, and finally Case Western Reserve University, from which I graduated.
Both General Motors and Eaton reimbursed my tuition during those years, providing me the luxury of learning about computers - then a hot new field - in a professional setting while carrying a full academic load in business, mathematics, and industrial sociology."
He and many of our Viet Nam era members were subject to the draft. Those with low draft lottery numbers (based on birth date) were the first to go. He continues: "In late 1967, I was fortunate enough to be able to enlist in a special program with the U.S. Navy in which they were recruiting individuals with backgrounds in data processing. Even more fortunately, I was detailed to Navy headquarters in Arlington, Virginia, adjacent to the Pentagon for my time in the service. While in the Navy I organized a group of others that were working at Navy headquarters into a small computer services firm that eventually became known as the "Morino Marauders." This small business was folded into one of the country's first time-sharing computer network businesses, U.S. Time-Sharing. This led to yet another new business, where eventually I met my partner and mentor, Bill Witzel. In 1973, Bill and I formed a software company, Morino Associates, in which we were the two principals." [This company was one of the few companies in the DC area that developed products instead of concentrating on government contracting. And this remained the case throughout the 1970's and '80s]. Mario states: "[in] 1984 or 1985, there were only maybe six true software firms in the region. ... We were these mavericks-we weren't doing 'real' business, we weren't part of the big government complexes and we weren't part of the business community. No one gave you the time of day." Eventually, the non-governmental businesses began to realize that they didn't have to take the word of their mainframe salesman on whether to purchase a new mainframe, more storage, extra memory, etc.
"During the late 1980s and early 1990s, my associates and I brought our company through a series of complicated acquisitions and mergers that resulted in one of the world's largest software companies, Legent Corporation. In 1992, the company was in both a solid financial state and a strong market position, and was under the leadership of a strong management team, so I was able to step down and begin a new journey in the nonprofit realm."
Mario Morino at the relatively young age of 49 retired from the hectic world of mergers "cold turkey". He followed in the footsteps of cable executive Robert Buford who pioneered philanthropy as an activity for those "retirees" 45 -65, who had accumulated money through their profession or businesses and wanted to move from a life of "financial or professional success to a life of significance." This was quite a feat for a guy who is very competitive and driven to success. His IT professional life ended over 18 years ago and in a "land far, far away" which he hardly recognizes as a way of life. Though he has made many friends through his companies, his pride and joy today are the charities that he founded and continues to support. He also reminded me that many other professionals are also becoming involved in philanthropy.
His odyssey began when he stepped out of the familiar world of IT and into the world "outside the box". His adventures in setting up the charities follow the classic patterns in system design. He enlisted the help of friends and associates. Along the way, he picked up others for his team.
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While reading his narrative, remember that he experienced most of it before 1995. The situations in the world of which he speaks in the formative years of his charities and ours has changed considerably. Nevertheless, his story is instructive, inspirational and entertaining regarding what one can do in retirement and how different the "real world" can be to us IT folk. |
"The early vision for the Morino Foundation was simple: I wanted to play a supportive but active role in the grant projects we would support. This role - what I call a "passive activist" - would mean assisting grantees not only financially, but also by serving as an advisor to them. It would entail providing appropriate contacts who could help them financially or otherwise, and in some cases, even rolling up my sleeves and working alongside them on the planning, development, and marketing of their projects. The idea was not to take control of the projects but mainly to help the grant seekers succeed by providing the expertise, assistance, and resources to which they might not otherwise have ready access.
Much of this activist philosophy stems from my business roots. I had an active management style, a desire to be involved in day-to-day work operations, and a commitment to build and cultivate relationships with my co-workers. Over the years I was blessed with many close friendships and relationships with people at Legent, its customers, and even its competitors.
This personal approach is crucial to the Morino Foundation's success. Our role is to be involved and supportive, but not controlling. Take the process of awarding a grant. The key is to look at the potential award from both a business perspective and a personal one. Business sense helps me determine whether a project is technically or financially feasible. My personal involvement enables me to judge whether the potential grantee is committed to his or her mission, has the skills to accomplish his or her goals, and whether the right chemistry exists for successful cooperation between us.
This kind of insight is crucial because the Morino Foundation attempts to award grants that will make a concrete, long-term difference in people's lives, such as keeping disadvantaged youths off the streets by engaging them in computers or athletics, or by uniting parents of mentally impaired children in support groups.
Although the Morino Foundation is not modeled on any particular nonprofit, it embodies many of the characteristics of other organizations from which we have learned. One such organization had a profound influence on our foundation's vision: the Echoing Green Foundation in New York, which offers fellowships for public service programs. What was most impressive about Echoing Green's approach was its practice of selecting fellows who have what they perceive to be a calling in their social or religious endeavors. I have tried to follow this practice in the grants made by the Morino Foundation. Investing in people who have a conviction in their beliefs and the drive to succeed is a fundamental necessity of productive grantmaking." In other words, he doesn't want to just toss money at a problem. Like most executives, he wants measurable results.
"The objective of our foundation is to help people use learning and knowledge to open doors once closed to them, or doors they never even knew existed. The avenues for education have never been as exciting as they are today in the evolving Knowledge Age. New and innovative ways of learning and communicating are constantly emerging, including the ability to communicate with many people from afar using computer networks. One aspect of our work is to help people learn about these new modes of communication, knowledge, and information access. That in turn can help them seize the opportunities that knowledge gives them, just as I was able to do."
"The Foundation began to take shape in early 1990 when I first started to explore options for estate planning. I had accumulated some wealth during my tenure in the computer industry and wanted to ensure not only that my family was well provided for and my finances allocated wisely, but also that we could contribute something meaningful to society outside of my work in the business world.
Our attorney proposed a comprehensive estate plan that included setting up a nonprofit foundation. We spent the next two years exploring the concept of the private foundation and hammering out details of a plan. Ideally, I wanted the Foundation to serve as both a vehicle for the family's estate upon my death and as a way for me to give something back to society during my lifetime. I had no blueprint for the Foundation back then. I only knew that it should somehow promote community learning. In the past, community learning came out of the family, the church, and local groups. The Foundation's goal is to rekindle these types of shared learning in the hope that we can help people improve their lives and communities.
Shortly after leaving Legent in 1992, I donated to the newly established Morino Foundation 100,000 shares of the company's stock at a value of approximately $4.8 million. To ensure that the Foundation would remain viable and productive after my death, we intend to supply further contributions to the Foundation during my life-time as our net worth grows, mostly from venture investment activities in the information and communications technology fields. The Morino Foundation was set up in such a way that my goals and visions for the nonprofit will live on even when I am no longer actively involved.
During a drive to the Delaware shore in early 1993, my friend Patrick Arnone and I set the wheels in motion for what was later to become the Morino Institute. The Institute would eventually become an extension of the Morino Foundation, acting as its project-support arm. En route, we discussed ways in which the Morino Foundation could become more than just a grant-making entity. At the time I was kicking around several ideas for how the Foundation could advance learning in communities, but did not have a specific plan in mind.
What was clear was that we would not simply write checks. Contributing our skills in business as well as my perspective on the application of technology would be more valuable than just providing money. I wanted to instill the personal touch that had characterized my approach to business. The goal was to be an active player in the grant projects we underwrote - assisting, not controlling, them. We wanted to serve as a partner in creating change.
Patrick, too, had come to a crossroads in his business career and was about to begin a year-long sabbatical from the computer software industry so he could decide what his next step would be. He wanted to contribute something meaningful to society, outside of business, and the idea of working on shaping the Foundation's activities intrigued him. Before we even reached the Delaware shore, Patrick had offered to volunteer five to ten hours a week of his time to help nail down a focus for the Foundation's work.
That trip led us on a wild journey that neither could ever have imagined. We dedicated all of 1993 and part of 1994 to what we now refer to as the "discovery." It was a period when we simply went out and met with many people in all walks of life - from business, government, education, and the nonprofit arena. Our approach was to listen to their views on what was needed in communities and in the nonprofit world, and to ask how we could help.
It was an exhilarating, rewarding, overwhelming and sometimes frustrating time for us. Things were moving fast. Before he knew it, Patrick was logging somewhere between 50 to 80 hours a week with me. When it was all over a year and a half later, we had met with some 700 people.
We began our journey without a road map, an agenda, or clear expectations. This was a time to gather information, and we purposely kept our activities unstructured and broad. Our main objective was to learn from people outside our corporate cocoons. Any savvy businessman will agree that keeping an open mind is crucial to success. Such a painstaking process was not the only alternative. We could have limited our research period to six months and approached it with more of a focus or purpose. But the low-pressure, casual approach led to a more comprehensive survey of our options, albeit a less efficient one at times. It was like being a reporter with no deadline.
Our first step was to place a few cold calls from the office, which at the time was located in the basement of my home in Great Falls, Virginia. There, with the help of Cheryl Collins, who led our research and special projects activities, Patrick and I started thumbing through our Rolodexes, tapping some of my close associates like Joe Henson, the former chairman and CEO of Legent; Steve Denning, managing general partner of General Atlantic; Ed Cohen, chairman of the Echoing Green Foundation; and, of course, longtime friend Bill Witzel, co-founder of Morino Associates. We also turned to local politicians and others we knew.
Sometimes we even consulted the phone book and other directories. Patrick, for example, once scanned an educational catalog to find software designers specializing in education to see if they were developing anything innovative or different about which we could learn.
Even though we had no specific plan of attack, our legwork eventually generated a regular slate of meetings. Most of the time we relied on referrals from previous sessions. Although my status as a former business executive probably got us a foot in the door for many of these meetings, I avoided relying too much on my contacts in the software industry and the business world. This was a time for me to look beyond those parameters and to see the big picture of society.
We met with religious organizations, investment bankers, university presidents, government officials, activist groups and a former executive director of CBS News. Those who did not know us or what we were really trying to do were at least intrigued by our comprehensive fact-finding mission. Their curiosity helped us to get on their calendars more often than not.
We never entered a meeting with a specific agenda or plan. Our message was that we were from the computer industry and were now devoting our lives to helping communities. We had nothing to sell, we reassured people, we just wanted some advice about areas our foundation could focus on and how to learn more about them. Some people, especially in the nonprofit arena, were suspicious. How could two former business executives not have a hidden agenda? Even some business people were wary. Occasionally we met people who kept a cool distance because they were certain we were selling something.
Despite these occasional hurdles, our days were packed with meetings and phone calls. A typical day began at dawn, answering electronic mail and drafting correspondence. By 8:00 or 9:00 a.m., Patrick and I were attending meetings, some days from seven in the morning until late in the evening. On a single day, we might meet with a congressman, a nonprofit director, a clergyman, a company president, and a community services representative.
Early on in the process, Patrick and I teamed up for most meetings. Later on we split up to squeeze more into our schedules. Patrick focused on learning the funding process for private and corporate foundations, private donors, and government programs, while I dedicated my time to formulating a vision of how we could help community organizations. At the end of the day, we would either hold a staff meeting or Patrick and I would discuss the day's events on our way home or by phone.
I do not remember the first phone call we made, but I remember the very first meeting. It was in January 1993 at my alma mater, Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland, Ohio. It started out as a meeting about establishing a Morino Scholars grant program at the university, but like many subsequent meetings, it opened new doors for us and was the start of several important relationships. A presentation taught me about Case Western's campus-wide fiber-optic network and the new digital library it was to support. I was intrigued by the forecasts that a digital library concept could and would replace a physical library - the catalog, the books, and even the building itself. ...the technology would change forever our concept of accessing library resources, but we felt there were social aspects of the traditional library that could not and should not be replaced, namely its role as a meeting place and center of community activity. Students go to the library not only to study and check out books, but also to socialize and work together. There would always be a need for such a gathering spot.
Later, while digging through the stack of literature the university had given me, I stumbled across another project at Case Western that shed a whole new light on this theme of technology and social interaction. It was the university's work on the Cleveland Free-Net, a community-based computer network that allows residents of the greater Cleveland area to communicate with others via electronic mail and make information available through bulletin boards. The network also provides new twists on existing ideas, such as electronic support groups for patients and their families.
What struck me most about the network was how it was being used by specific groups, such as families of persons with Alzheimer's disease, under an experiment run by the Alzheimer's Center of the University Hospitals of Cleveland and a local chapter of the Alzheimer's Association. I read touching accounts from participating families. One man wrote a letter to his online support group about how he turns to them for help when things get difficult with his Alzheimer's-stricken wife. The 24- hour online support had helped him share information and his feelings about caring for her.
This really hit home for me. The technology had a sociological application that had not been apparent to me, since my experience with these networks was mostly in the context of making information available. The magic of this very personal form of communication was a refreshing and exciting discovery. I wondered whether Case Western had considered exploring the Free-Net's impact on the people who used it. But the university, like most others working with computer networks today, was preoccupied with the network itself. The trouble with such a narrow focus is that it fails to illuminate for people just how such a medium can trigger dramatic changes in society. We had stumbled onto a social phenomenon of significance. This was my first introduction to community networks but it would not be the last.
One of the biggest dividends of these meetings was more contacts, which exposed us to diverse views and broadened our thinking. Our meeting with U.S. Senator Robert Kerrey of Nebraska in the spring of 1993 is a good example. Steve Denning of General Atlantic and Ed Cohen of Echoing Green had introduced us to Billy Shore, director of Share Our Strength, a nonprofit organization focusing on hunger programs.
Billy, whose insight, advice, and contacts were of great value to our discovery process, suggested that we speak with Senator Kerrey, his former boss, to discuss legislation the Senator was sponsoring to develop digital public libraries. The next thing we knew, Billy made a phone call, and he, Patrick, and I were in a cab on our way to Capitol Hill. The meeting with Senator Kerrey was supposed to be only a fifteen-minute session to get acquainted, but ended up being a three-hour discussion in the Senate lunchroom. This was highly unusual - most people we met with gave us about 30 minutes of their time, some a bit more once they understood our intentions. The conversation with Senator Kerrey quickly expanded beyond digital libraries to other social and technological issues, such as the trends in computer networks and the potential of network interactive communications for social and economic change. The Senator later remarked that he had spent so much time with us because the topic was of great interest to him and we did not have a hidden agenda.
Despite the fact that we were constantly being drawn into a discussion of technology in our meetings, I still resisted (as I do today) embracing the technology itself as part of our core mission. I could not shake my skepticism that technology alone was unable to solve problems in communities and society as a whole. But as fate would have it, the discovery period eventually led back to my technology roots. My previous work in helping individuals assimilate and use computer systems and networks gave us an important frame of reference from which to understand the communications revolution that was emerging out of these technologies. I soon was focused on both the potential and the risks of the emerging communications medium known as network interactive communications, the convergence of computers, networks, broadcast television, and publishing. This was not a matter of technology for its own sake - it was a profound change in the way people communicate.
Another key meeting for us occurred via this new communications medium in August of that year. I received an electronic mail message from Steve Cisler, a senior scientist with Apple Computer Inc., who had seen my name on the Internet as an attendee at the International Free-Net Conference, which he and I attended in August 1993. By electronic mail, Steve and I learned about one another and exchanged ideas about how these community computer networks could help those most in need. I convinced him to travel to Virginia for a face-to-face meeting in October.
At the time, Steve was planning the first "Ties That Bind" conference, a forum sponsored by Apple Computer on community networking. After our meeting, the Morino Institute (as an extension of the Foundation) offered to work with Steve and Apple on the conference. Steve's encouragement and willingness to work with us led the Institute to co-sponsor the conference - our first official foray into community networking. Apple and the Morino Institute co-sponsored the 1994 and 1995 events, which were aimed at advancing these networks at the local level.
In November 1993, our journey took a spiritual turn. We were fortunate to be able to meet with Robert Buford, a Christian philanthropist with several nonprofit organizations, one of which is the Leadership Network. We previously had met with and benefited from the insights of Fred Smith, the director of the Leadership Network. Buford espoused the philosophy we were crafting for the Morino Foundation - that donors should make sure they choose grantees who have a calling in life. Although Buford's philosophy emphasized more of a religious calling, it reinforced our earlier discussions with Ed Cohen of Echoing Green. Grantees must be receptive to working closely with you, Buford said, and remain open to new ideas and change. This was exactly the kind of approach I was trying to take with the Morino Foundation, and Buford reassured us that the time we were taking to meet with people to learn and plan our future was well-spent."
In 1993, there was a series of cutbacks in government white collar jobs and, potentially, in the computer industry that led them to believe that lifelong education and retraining were another important avenue of education to be funded. "One of our first instances of promoting this lifelong learning theme is our Morino Scholars Program with Northern Virginia Community College (NVCC). As part of this relationship with the college, we meet the scholarship applicants. At one such meeting, most of the applicants were working, single mothers returning to school to better their career chances and improve the quality of life for themselves and their children. Having also worked my way through college, I was amazed that these women could work and go to school while at the same time caring for their children. It was especially inspirational hearing them talk about redirecting their lives through education. This was one more example of how people seeking to improve themselves will grab opportunities if given the chance. We have since modified the scholarship program to require the award winner to complete a project that demonstrates the value of network interactive communications with regard to their field of study. We have been fortunate to team with America Online and they provide each scholarship winner with a one-year no cost subscription to their online services."
Not all of our meetings during this period were so uplifting or helpful. One especially disappointing meeting was with a large telecommunications provider. The senior executives never bothered to ask us any questions about why we were there and what interested us. Instead they proceeded to give us a well-choreographed presentation on the company's vision of the future of high-speed computer network technology, video-on-demand, home shopping, and "smart" homes. The bottom line was they sounded like a monopoly with no understanding of what was really happening in the outside world. This company was mostly concerned with touting how it could provide all of these services to everyone. Patrick and I walked out exasperated - the meeting had been no help whatsoever.
We definitely rode a rollercoaster of emotions during this period. Some days it seemed that our ideas and focus were beginning to gel, and we were euphoric. Then we would attend another meeting where someone would shoot down our ideas or steer us in a completely different direction.
At the onset of the discovery process, we had considered adopting a public school. What was especially attractive about this prospect was that it would offer us the opportunity to help a school link to the world through network interactive communications. Then the school could teach in a more open communication forum, with interactive education augmenting the traditional one-way process. This could reach and engage students by offering them resources from around the globe, rather than just from their classroom. I envisioned us working directly with the teachers and students and creating research projects for them to participate in online. But this idea never got off the ground. Nonprofit, education, and local government officials alike warned us that it was difficult for outsiders to break into the arena of K-12 education, which is even more resistant to change than other fields. As it was, many schools did not even have electrical outlets and phone jacks, let alone computers and computer modems. So within the first couple of months of our journey, we decided to abandon the notion of adopting a school. We certainly did not desert the learning theme, however. That remained a constant vision throughout the discovery process.
For an occasional reality check, we held focus groups. Some validated our thinking at the time, and others revealed that we were heading down one wrong path or another. The first such session was held in September 1993 on community networking. The focus group confirmed the concept of such networks unanimously, but raised some other questions about how to measure their success and how to keep them up and running for the long-haul. This made us realize that we could not assume community networking would sweep the nation. It would need plenty of care and nurturing before it could truly become a new way of communicating and engaging people at the local level.
Most of our meetings in this latter period helped us fill holes in our understanding. For instance, we were fortunate to meet Duane Webster, director of the Association of Research Libraries, and Paul Peters, executive director of the Coalition for Networked Information, as well as members of their staffs. In the spring of 1994, they showed us the major role research universities were playing in advancing computer networks and digitized information worldwide. To our surprise, we learned that the research and academic community was, and still is, far ahead of the business world in this realm, especially in understanding the paradigm shift triggered by this communications revolution.
We were introduced to innovations that demonstrated this new medium's relevance to the general public, with applications like telemedicine and distance learning classes. In many ways, it already had moved to the mainstream in some aspects of academia, providing valuable lessons for those outside that community.
But even some from the research and academic communities are not completely sold on network interactive communications yet. In late 1993, we met with Vinton Cerf of MCI Communications, who is known as the father of the Internet. Vint made a statement that confirmed a fear I had about the new medium. He said that new "virtual communities," groups of people splitting into their own networked circles, could further fragment society.
Unlike many ardent network activists, Vint was not so sure that this new communications medium could magically revitalize communities. This was a powerful insight from someone in Vint's respected position in the networking community and it served to solidify our own theories. Vint felt that our role, as with that of the Internet Society he helped launch, should be to help people use the new communications medium as a tool for constructive social and economic change.
For some time I had been struggling to see how we could help to ensure that this new capability would create opportunity and level the playing field rather than generating an elite forum for only those with the political, financial, and social power to access and use it. But the application of networks, like any technology, can only mirror the societies it serves. People, not technology, must solve problems. And they need to understand innovative ways to apply new communications technology to do so. We saw firsthand a few examples of how this network interactive communications could easily result in unequal access given the wide gulf between the world of technology and the world as a whole.
At a defense conversion conference in Washington, D.C., for instance, representatives from large defense contracting firms were discussing the information superhighway and how it could benefit education. They concluded that all a classroom needed was to plug a computer modem into a phone jack, and it was on its way. Several teachers in attendance gave them a dose of reality. One schoolteacher from the District of Columbia stood up and said that her classroom had no computer, and not even a phone jack. So after school her students drive to a Maryland library, where they access the Internet and download materials for the next day's lesson. In effect, they are overcoming the school's limitations by gathering materials on their own.
When a senior Clinton administration official at yet another conference spoke of the information superhighway someday reaching every school, a teacher there declared that her classroom was in a garage and had no electrical outlet. How could the administration give her students access to the information highway? Such stories reinforced our interest in applying the learning theme to young people, whom many of our most trusted new colleagues considered the key to solving social problems.
One such person was Sister Kit Collins, who heads up the Center for Educational Design and Communication in Washington, D.C. This nonprofit organization provides education and communications support for groups working for social change. It is currently working with the Bowen Trust, for example, to help restore the old Shaw neighborhood YMCA in Washington. When the work is finished, the building will house an African-American cultural center.
We met with Sister Collins in late 1993 and early 1994. We were struck by her vision that helping disadvantaged youth is the only way to cure society's ills. She has continued to inspire us to stay the course when it comes to providing things like computer network access and training to inner-city youth. Unless computer networks reach disadvantaged groups such as the poor and disabled, the societal gap in knowledge, opportunity, and wealth will only widen.
Another contact who influenced us greatly was Henry Fernandez, one of the founders and the executive director of Leadership, Education and Athletics in Partnership (LEAP). Henry at first just listened and nodded when we talked about the revolutionary potential of technology. LEAP provided us yet another chilling reality check for this technology theory. A typical day in the Hartford, New Haven, and New London, Connecticut, neighborhoods where LEAP counselors work is focused on teaching young children how to read or how to resolve gang disputes, not the razzle-dazzle of computers and networks. Most of the kids do not have computers, nor have they ever touched one. Far too many have been touched instead by violence and neglect.
Today we are working with LEAP to set up the National Youth Center Network (NYCN), which will help unite youth centers operating in low-income neighborhoods, child-advocacy providers, and related services around the country by creating a learning network and a process for sharing knowledge. It also will provide hands-on technology and information training for youth. The goal is to have NYCN broaden the horizons of these kids, providing a new means of expression that will instill in them a sense of hope and self-confidence.
If we could do it all again, what would we do differently? For one, we would meet with more people in the trenches, teachers and people like Sister Kit Collins and Henry Fernandez rather than so many of the high-level executives and government officials we were typically able to reach. My background obviously drew me to these people, but I think we may have gotten answers sooner had we met with more teachers, students, and caseworkers out in the field to get their view on what we were thinking, especially since in essence this was our target audience. If we had met more of these sorts of people sooner, we probably would have defined our purpose more quickly.
Secondly, our free-form approach to the discovery process had some fallout. Midway through 1994, our efforts with the Foundation (and the Institute) went into something of a temporary tailspin. With all of the travel and meetings Patrick and I logged during the previous 18 months, it had been difficult to keep the staff abreast of the latest thinking on our mission and plans. We were gathering information and evolving our ideas so quickly that we neglected taking time to debrief and digest it all. On a similar note, I did not realize that the staff, which had grown to about nine people during that period, needed me to be more accessible to them. The result was that we did not communicate as well as we should have, and by the time the staff had caught up to my last meeting, I was already immersed in the next issue.
I probably frustrated everyone because I resisted committing us to any specific mission or project until we had ironed it all out. As a case in point, Patrick had lobbied for us to go ahead and take on a small prototype project of some sort, in a school or community, to give us something to sink our teeth into. This, he argued, would let us apply what we had learned about the opportunities interactive communications offered. Only then would we truly be able determine whether it could really help people. But I resisted taking the plunge right away. I wanted to ensure that we did not start something that we could not finish. I did not want to risk tackling a project that might end up not truly relevant to our cause.
To remedy this internal turmoil, in early 1995 I asked each member of the staff to do some soul-searching. Each examined just what value he or she felt the Institute offered and what he or she wanted to contribute to it. As a result, we reorganized the staff and officially launched what is now our official mission: to help individuals and communities improve their economic and social well-being by empowering them with knowledge and access to information and interactive communications - the tools of the communications revolution. Our effort was finally back on track. Today we draw people from both the business and nonprofit communities to collaborate on solutions using network interactive communications. A sterling example of this collaboration was a project in which we participated to support the Children's Defense Fund's annual conference. In that project, LEAP, the National Youth Center Network, and the Morino Institute, teamed with IBM, BellSouth and Charlotte's Web to implement a demonstration center. The center showed hundreds of child service workers the applicability and relevance of network interactive communications to youth development and child advocacy, and how the medium is advancing both.
We have come to the conclusion that our primary purpose is to act as a catalyst for change. All of our initiatives are intended to ensure that we make a long-term, sustaining difference in community service activities, learning, and social change. To this end, we work with other institutions to identify major issues which can be impacted positively by the application of network interactive communications. We will work with and through an existing institution or help incubate a new organization that can achieve the positive, systemic change we believe is essential. This allows us to stay focused on our mission, while leveraging both our funding (through the Foundation) and our know-how (through the Institute) to maximize our contribution."
He has been referred to as the godfather of the Washington Technical industry: He became involved with the Northern Virginia Roundtable, chaired by George Johnson, then President of George Mason University. Here he met lawyers, developers, systems integrators and others in the business community, but still was the odd man out. In September 1994, he gave a speech about the future of Washington as a digital capital. This was good news to an audience who had just learned that Disney was pulling out of a theme park to be built near Manassas. He mentioned that the world was moving to become networked and that MAE-East, the key Internet exchange point for the eastern part of the US, was located in Northern Virginia-next to them. That's why Internet Service Providers such as MCI and AOL. Besides, there was the Goddard Space Flight Center plus all the telecom, satellite and wireless installations. And there are 120 government labs between Richmond and Baltimore. He, also, pointed out that DC is a center for newsletter services and media production. The audience took all that in. He had walked into a room of disappointment and despair and finished his speech a hero. The idea of the area as a digital hub seemed a slam-dunk. He is recognized for the success of his implemented proposal.
In 2000, Mario launched Venture Philanthropy Partners, a charitable investment organization that seeks to benefit the lives of children from low-income neighborhoods by strengthening the body of nonprofit organizations that serve them. He has also been the driving force behind the YouthLearn Initiative, Netpreneur, and Potomac Knowledgeway . He also serves on the board of directors for a variety of charitable, educational, and technology-related organizations.
At a recent Netpreneur meeting, he spoke about building a winning team. This event focused on culture both within and external to the corporation. Though the meeting is summarized in a rather inelegant fashion, the main points that Mario and the other panelists made are excellent and worth a look.
He has been published in What Matters. In a September 2009 article, Nurturing the Innovation Reef, he.proposes a two pronged approach to a national innovation effort to come at our problems simultaneously in both directions: top down AND bottom up: A national innovation strategy developed by a Presidential commission composed of outstanding innovators and thinkers.
Today, Morino provides guidance and service to a number of institutions:
Among the honors and awards that Mario has received are:
AFTERWORD:
Where did this phenomenon of venture philanthropy originate? Surprisingly, Mario Marino was on the leading edge and has "set the bar" for others to follow. Note, there is a school of Indiana University in Indianapolis, Indiana which focuses on charitable fundraising. Mario is one of their heroes. Besides having a direct impact on the social problems that they are fighting, Morino's philanthropic endeavors have acted as models, as proof of validity, and as sources of inspiration for numerous individuals and organizations associated with the concept of venture philanthropy.
For those of us in the "measurement" business, Mario has recently expressed concern regarding over-measurement of progress in venture philanthropy. Just like in the good old days, right? Of course, we all wish him the best in his efforts to upgrade the lives of us all, but especially those who have so much less. Our chain is only as strong as its weakest links. Thanks for the upgrades, Mario.
Mario Morino CMG Papers:
