George Julnes: Scholar of Evaluation and of Life

I’ve been asked to comment about George Julnes as a scholar. In a sense, that's easy to do—his scholarly contributions are impressive. Not surprisingly, it isn’t easy—and probably isn’t appropriate—to separate George the scholar from George the person. But what really isn’t easy is talking about George in the past tense.

When I think about George as a scholar, Donald Campbell's “fish scale model of omniscience” comes to mind. Campbell suggested that areas of scholarship can be thought of as partially overlapping with each other, like the scales on a fish. The model was presented as a way of avoiding the silos of individual disciplines. But it can also describe individual scholars who cross the boundaries that divide fields of study. As well, a case can be made that a set of overlapping fish scales can support more innovative and more productive scholarship than does being camped in the center of one of the metaphoric fish scales.

George pursued academic training that created valuable and generative overlap of these metaphoric fish scales. His graduate training in community and clinical psychology provided a strong foundation in thinking related to social interventions and human flourishing. His subsequent master's degree in public policy provided insight into when and how empirical evidence might be relevant for policymaking. The collaborative relationship with Larry Mohr that began during that time strengthened George's interest and expertise in research design and analysis. Other of George's other important “scales” included aspects of philosophy, especially but not only realist philosophy. George's extensive network of friends and colleagues, both in and out of evaluation, also deepened and broadened his thinking. And he more than reciprocated.

Drawing on his multiple areas of expertise, George leaves us with a rich collection of writings. I won’t list or try to categorize his publications here, other than to highlight his important contributions on the key issue of valuing in evaluation. Several of the other contributors to this set of remembrances highlight specific examples of George's written work. Instead, I’ll offer a suggestion. Go to Google Scholar, which provides a relatively complete list (though perhaps omitting a coauthored book for some reason). Look at the list of George's publications. I’m inclined to think of the list as a menu—you might think of it as a listing of an expansive set of beers on draft (thereby mirroring a social activity George enjoyed). Pick out one from the list that you haven’t yet read, and read it. Treat it as though it is one of those beers that George loved to try. Hold the glass up and look at the light behind it, metaphorically speaking. Capture the complexities as the words go down. Take another sip, reading another part or all of it. And if time allows, sample another one from the list.

George's scholarship was well-respected. He wasn’t selected as editor of this journal for nothing. Perhaps more notable as a signal of the respect for George's scholarship was his receipt of the American Evaluation Association's Lazarsfeld Award for contributions to evaluation theory. It's important to highlight, though, that as our mutual colleague and friend Debra Rog describes him in these pages, George was a “pragmatic theorist.” His scholarly work on evaluation was ever grounded in the values and motivation that led him first to community psychology and then to evaluation: the heartfelt desire to help make things better for others.

I don’t know if Campbell's fish scale model has been applied beyond scholarship to life more generally. But in George's case, the areas of overlap were the stuff of a gentle, curious, generous soul. As noted across this set of remembrances, George was a true scholar, a valued collaborator, a caring teacher, a dear friend to many, a loving husband and father, a generous editor, and a servant to the American Evaluation Association and the broader evaluation community. He maintained relationships well, reaching out and sustaining connections with others. George was a master of the pithy comment (many deserving of a rim shot or mic drop). At the same time, in extended scholarly conversations, it sometimes seemed as though he spoke neither in prose nor in poetry, but in jazz as he improvised, drawing on the many fish scales of his scholarly life, but returning to the dominant theme. I think these and other personal and stylistic overlaps made George a better scholar. But more importantly, they made him George Julnes, and they made it a blessing for those of us who knew him.

As you read the rest of the remembrances that follow, you’ll be introduced to—or for those of you who had the pleasure of knowing George, reminded of—other metaphoric fish scales of George the scholar and George the person.

Life is good, he often said. Too short sometimes, I’d add. But well lived. Cheers, George, cheers.