The Student of History

The Bibliography of English History to 1485: Based on the Sources and Literature of English History from the Earliest Times to About 1485 was published 28 years ago by Oxford University Press. It is still the standard today and will likely remain so as long as Medieval England intrigues historians. Its author was Edgar B. Graves. Graves, much like his work, remains the standard today for many of his former students.

"Digger" Graves came to Hamilton in 1927. "England and the British Empire" was his primer course. For those who were engaged by both Digger and the subject matter, there were "European Civilization from the 11th to the 14th Century" and "European Civilization from the 14th to the 16th Century." In his 42 years on the faculty, Digger was a campus favorite, not just for his lessons but also for the enjoyment he clearly took in teaching at this particular small liberal arts college.

You could see his joy in his wide smile, hear it in his deep laughter and almost touch it as he listened attentively to every student query. It seemed he had had white hair for almost forever, and his Brooks-Brothers box suits reinforced the perception of his authority. He had a big, full face atop a small body. There was a casual dignity in just about everything he did. You could spot him at most hockey games, posed by one of the doors to the rink -- always standing, never sitting while there was action on the ice. In fact, this world-renowned Medieval historian loved his sports. You could sense his athletic grace as -- even in his later years -- he'd pop from his office chair to retrieve a book from across the room.

Digger wasn't all classroom. He liked to get away from the books, the lectures and the seminars. Often he'd head for the basketball court in the old, often-dank Alumni Gymnasium. Whether it was a break between classes or just the chance to get a little bit of exercise, Professor Graves would take the floor around noon. He'd take off his sports coat, fold it in half, neatly place it on a chair, loosen his tie, pick up a ball and look for a partner.

A.G. Lafley, coincidentally, also used the gym as a kind of escape. Hamilton College -- especially Hamilton College in winter -- was like nothing he'd ever known. To get away from the rural life, he'd exercise. Long before jogging had become popular, Lafley would go out and run the loop, up College Hill Road, across Griffin Road, over the top by the reservoir and back down to the campus. "It was my way of getting away," he says. "Of escaping -- at least in my mind -- back to the energy of the city."

On days when it was too raw to run, Lafley would go to the gym and pick up a basketball. And there, around lunchtime, he'd find a partner.

"Digger liked to shoot freethrows," Lafley says. "I would rebound and run the ball back to him. He'd shoot again. I'd rebound again and get him the ball back. Sometimes, we'd take turns shooting. I recall at least a couple of times when Digger had his grandson with him and the three of us would shoot together."

It wasn't an every-day meeting. It was, however, the kind of time-to-time coincidence that helped define college life in the late '60s. Just like Sidney Wertimer greeting every first-day student by name. Just like Dean Winton Tolles "chaperoning" fraternities on houseparty weekends. It was life on College Hill -- a student and a teacher sharing a way to relax. At the time, Graves was just 70. "He came to shoot hoops. And I was there. I'm sure we talked about stuff, but I'm also relatively sure we didn't talk about anything serious -- no academics. It's the kind of thing that just doesn't happen very often."

When Lafley came to Hamilton, he thought he'd probably be a math major. Then he signed on for Graves' "England and the British Empire" course. "The most vivid memory I have is of Digger Graves teaching history," Lafley wrote in his 25th reunion yearbook. "I was fascinated by his lectures. Because of him, I am likely to pick up a history book for enjoyment and relaxation. And, to my family's dismay, I still want to visit castles and churches as we travel around the world."

Professor Graves' lecture tour of Florence ("street by street, Medici home by Medici home,") was one of Lafley's two favorite Hamilton lectures. (The other: Professor Charles Adler's lecture about how difficult it was to kill Rasputin.) When Lafley graduated from Hamilton, he fully intended to pursue his doctorate in European Medieval and Renaissance history. "Digger pointed me to the University of Virginia. He taught me to go for the professor, not the school. I enrolled in the Ph.D. program as a Presidential Scholar with a 'full ride' that covered all college costs, plus $250 a month in spending money -- a virtual fortune in those days."

A career in business was not part of his plan. "I read economics only for history," he recalls. At the time, so passionate was he in his studies that it seemed certain that Lafley would spend his adult life in scholarship rather than business.

But, by December, Lafley had left graduate school. "I drew the winning number," he says, in the November 1969 Selective Service draft lottery. By March he had enlisted in the Navy's OCS Program and reported for duty at U.S. Navy bootcamp in Great Lakes, Ill. By June, he was married to Sarah Margaret Gavin and, as a Navy supply officer, soon was picking up his first experience in merchandising.

After five years of service to his country and two years at Harvard Business School, A.G. and Margaret Lafley moved to Cincinnati where, at the age of 30, he began working as a brand assistant on Joy dishwashing detergent. Between 1977 and 1992, he delivered what the company calls "record sales and profits through the introduction of major product innovations, including Liquid Tide and Tide with Bleach."

In 1995, Lafley's good work earned him an appointment in Japan as P&G's executive vice president with responsibility for Asia. "Whenever anyone sent me a dream sheet and asked me what I wanted to do, I told them that I wanted to work abroad." Hamilton's Junior Year in France had sent him to Paris for 1967-68 and whetted his appetite for international living. And he had mixed his practical business education in the Navy with further language lessons. By the time he'd finished business school, he could speak French fluently, read and communicate in Spanish, and, after 47 weeks of Navy-sponsored seven-hours-a-day study, was conversant in Hebrew. "I was sent to Japan, where I could speak only a kind of pigeon Japanese, but I loved it."

The experience seems to have been reciprocal, and, when he returned to Cincinnati in 1999, it was as president of P&G's global beauty care business and the North American development organization. A year later, he became president/ceo and, in 2002, added the chairman's title as well.

The student of history was beginning to make a bit of business history.