Deferred Appreciation Investment

by Nazbanoo Pahlavi

in Carnegie Mellon Today, October 2008

After graduating from high school, Wayne Cutler, like many of his Long Island classmates, decides not to stray too far from home. He enrolls in a state school in upstate New York and plans to study psychology but ultimately switches to economics. Into his sophomore year, his academic interest hasn’t waned. He even meets with his high school guidance counselor and tells him how much he enjoys his major. After hearing that, the counselor suggests he consider transferring to Carnegie Mellon.

Unlike his counselor, Cutler hadn’t heard of Carnegie Mellon or of its reputation in business and economics. He follows the advice, however, and decides to apply for a transfer.

Evidently, being an excellent tennis player doesn’t hurt his chances for admission. "That probably helped me get in," says Cutler. It definitely helps him become captain of the Tartans’ tennis team—playing number one singles in his senior year. He also takes on a challenging course load in managerial economics. "I didn’t have a lot of time to hang out, watch TV, and eat Sugar Smacks," he recalls.

He does make time for Deirdre Maloney, who is in Pittsburgh completing an internship in her field of vocational rehabilitation. As their relationship grows, he admires her dedication to helping people with disabilities.

Cutler comes up with an idea to help people, too. He knows that many of his classmates are bright, but they lack training in personal money management. So with his roommate and friend David Gustin (HS'84), he makes plans to start a club that will teach hands-on the principles of investing. Instead of seeking start-up funds from Student Council, Cutler and Gustin make some phone calls. They get financial support from Mellon Bank, Federated Research, Value Line, and other financial institutions. He and Gustin raise about $10,000, and in the fall of 1982, about 100 students show up for the kick-off of the Investment Club.

Today, Cutler (HS'83) continues to give strategic advice, primarily to banks and wealth management institutions as co-founder and a managing director of Novantas, an international management consulting firm whose corporate office is in New York City. He also is helping Carnegie Mellon students who have an inspiration like he and Gustin did. The Deirdre Maloney Cutler Memorial Undergraduate Research Fund, named in memory of his wife who died from cancer four years ago, provides opportunities for undergraduate students who have a vision for a project. Additionally, Cutler says the initial $10,000 charitable gift is his message to undergraduates about helping people–a lesson he says he learned from his wife.

When future award recipients ask about the grant namesake, Cutler promises that either he or one of his three children, Shaynna, Brendan, and Wesley, will eagerly share stories about Deirdre Maloney Cutler.

"She was always outward focused," says Cutler. "To me, that's one of the greatest values you can have, focusing on others, not on yourself. That really embodied her spirit."

The Band Played On

by Nazbanoo Pahlavi

in Carnegie Mellon Today , October 2008

On the road home to Pittsburgh after a football game against the Franklin and Marshall Diplomats in Lancaster, Pa., a bus filled with Carnegie Mellon students stops for dinner at a family steakhouse. Diners exchange funny looks. The students may not look out of the ordinary during football games in Gesling Stadium, but they stick out in this crowd. They are Kiltie Band members. And about 100 of them, dressed in kilts, wait to order steaks in a line that goes all the way out the door.

Trombonist and Kiltie Band President Laurel Farmer calls the group a low-key "typical little ensemble," but there's a touch of playfulness in her voice. After all, the Kilties have a loud presence. During their routines at football games, they perform showtime shenanigans, back-and-forth antics with the Kiltie Cheermaster, and the occasional do-si-do. Farmer's outfit alone—complete with knee-high socks and a sporran, a fur-adorned ornamentation hung below the waist—screams Tartan pride. On her red band jacket, she exhibits 30 pieces of personal "flair," buttons and ribbons with such phrases as:

I robots.
Love your body.

In Lancaster, the uninitiated are puzzled, but in Pittsburgh, fans and alumni chuckle, especially when the Cheermaster calls out: "Ye Olde CIT Cheer" after the first offensive play of the game. In response, a horde of Kilties, mostly engineering and science majors like Farmer who share classes during the week, yell lyrics that include:

Square root
cube root
log of e
water-cooled slipstick
CIT!

Fans and former band members who know the words cheer along from the bleachers.

In her hometown of Cincinnati, Farmer was a self-described band geek who practiced disciplined, core-style marching. In Kiltie Band, she isn't required to compete or memorize her music, and the group's director for life, Associate Dean of Student Affairs Paul Gerlach, doesn't expect members to practice beyond two weekly rehearsals. But what the Kilties lack in musical polish, they make up in boisterous energy. And on game day, Farmer and her bandmates like to play their music the way they like to dress—really loudly.

The Kiltie Band is celebrating its centennial anniversary. Since 1908, one element has remained constant—the group's school spirit. If Farmer stays in Pittsburgh, she plans to join the group as an alumna, which is often the case with graduates who remain in the area. That way she can continue to spend time with about 100 of her closest friends.

Man of the Year

by Nazbanoo Pahlavi
Carnegie Mellon Today, July 2008


A few hundred Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents descend under the buzz of a helicopter. Nearby streets are blocked off. The target is a New Bedford textile factory that has federal contracts to produce camouflage uniforms for soldiers in Iraq. The agents expect to find about 400 undocumented immigrants, who will be questioned and detained. An hour after the raid begins, the local police chief tips off Marc Fallon (HS'92), a clergyman and advocate for the Mayan community.

Although Fallon considers his Spanish second rate despite the years he committed to his Hispanic ministry, he knows those seamstresses, and he knows their hearts. And he knows that many of the parishioners struggled through civil war in Guatemala and won't answer to any man in uniform who questions them about the whereabouts of their children.

The law-enforcement officials won't divulge names of those taken away, so Fallon and another pastor, Richard Wilson, figure out who didn’t come home. They determine that 121 children are left behind.

The pastors share their list with advocacy agencies, and a community-wide effort takes root. A temporary shelter is created in the basement of Wilson's church. Community college students volunteer to help. So do the YMCA and area lawyers. And an investment banker in Boston, Mass., even matches bail bonds for about 40 of the detained migrants. "People simply decided to trust one another," says Fallon.

Most of the detained caregivers were reunited with their children within two weeks. For their humanitarian work on behalf of the Mayan community and the 361 undocumented workers detained after the March 6, 2007, raid, Fallon and Wilson were co-selected as Man of the Year by The New Bedford Standard-Times.
—Nazbanoo Pahlavi (HNZ'03)