Henry Kissinger delivered a eulogy for John C. Whitehead, highlighting his character, modesty, and commitment to service over personal ambition. Whitehead's contributions spanned business and public service, notably influencing the rebuilding of lower Manhattan after 9/11, while maintaining a focus on moral principles. His legacy is one of integrity and leadership that encourages others to seek solutions to global issues rather than dwell on them.

1. AS DELIVERED
Eulogy for Distinguished Eagle Scout John C. Whitehead
February 17, 2015
By Henry A. Kissinger
The ultimate challenge of a society is to bridge the gap between where
it is and where it has never been. To travel that road requires, above all,
character and courage: character, because the decisions marking the
journey are always close; and courage, because the initial stages are always
lonesome. Hence the Spanish proverb: “Traveler, there are no roads.
Roads are made by walking.”
America was fortunate that John Whitehead walked so many roads for
us.
In view of the vastness of John’s interests and the scope of his
accomplishments, one is tempted to think of a flamboyant individual
operating by eloquence and force of will. The opposite would be true. For
John, the call to serve was paired with a reluctance to impose.
Characteristic of John’s self-effacement, he declined when asked to
lead the Lower Manhattan Development Corporation after September 11
charged with coordinating the rebuilding effort downtown, citing his age and
the long time horizon of the project. But news of his appointment had
already leaked. When well-wishers began to inquire about it, John
concluded that he had no right to imply that a call to duty could be refused.
In that modesty resides perhaps John’s greatest significance for his society.
John was driven not by the desire to be, but by the commitment to do.
He judged actions by their nobility, not their utility. In a world of growing
fragmentation, he exuded universal principles. He led by example rather
than slogan. Where others practiced career advancement, he exemplified
the priority of ethics and integrity. There was about John, above all, an air
of serenity and gentleness that elevated those around him by making great
achievement seem the norm.
Not that John would have ever claimed such a role for himself. He
began his career at Goldman Sachs as a junior statistician with an annual
salary of $3,600. He told the story of his first paycheck, which encouraged
him to buy a yellow seersucker suit that he proudly donned to go to the
office. On the elevator, he encountered Mr. Sachs, who looked him up and
down. As Sachs got to his floor, he turned to John and said, “Young man, if
you work here, go home and get out of your pajamas and come back in a
suit.”

2. 2
John became one of the seminal statesmen of our society, always
thinking beyond the moment. Old school, patriotic, conceiving free
enterprise as an aspect of democratic freedom, John found ultimate purpose
in moral rather than purely operational categories.
It was one of the great honors of my life to be admitted to John’s
friendship. I met John when, in the last days of the Ford administration, he
tried to convince me to join Goldman Sachs as a partner. I told him that I
did not know enough about investment banking. Persuaded of my incapacity
to value opportunity, John settled on friendship.
John and I made an initial bargain that he would teach me economics,
and I would instruct him in diplomacy. This arrangement stood up until John
became Deputy Secretary of State under President Reagan—a job which he
interpreted as an opportunity to fulfill his lifetime commitment to the cause
of freedom. John would make speeches about the imminent liberation of the
satellite orbit, especially of Hungary—a prospect which conventional wisdom
of the time considered premature, to say the least. But prophets are
occasionally recognized in their lifetime. Eastern Europe became free in the
timetable of John’s vision, not the analysis of traditional experts.
Being near John was not without its humbling experiences, such as
being invited to dinner for five with John and finding myself as the only non-
Eagle Scout guest. Ever gracious, John postponed until after dinner to draw
my attention to this anomaly.
My last meeting with John was at his home a week before his death.
He was impeccably dressed and unmarked by illness. He said the doctors
had told him he had cancer and perhaps a short time to live. This was
nonsense, he insisted. He had been told the same thing twice before. We
would still talk about it two years from now. He was, in fact, looking forward
to the political campaigns about to begin. He had in the last few days made
a new choice for a candidate, he said, pledging me to secrecy until he
announced it.
I know what John would have said to that candidate, as to others. I
heard it a few months ago. At an annual dinner of a group concerned with
public policy, much of the discussion bemoaned the perilous state of world
affairs. John interrupted: “Let us stop this discussion here. There is a
moment to define the problems so that we understand them. But now is a
moment when it is important to help in solving them. So let us turn to
that.” Characteristically, he later wrote to apologize for what he described
as his bluntness.

3. 3
John Whitehead now joins the ranks of legends. Our lives will be far
less full without him. But as we mourn, his legacy will turn into a sentinel
for the evocation of public trust and the cause of freedom.