The Wisdom Project at Moment: Inspirational conversations with wise people who have been fortunate to live long lives
This week’s conversation is with Philip (“Phil”) Drill, 97, of West Orange, NJ.
Phil Drill will tell you that he raised himself to become who he is today, the eclectically gifted construction company CEO, sculptor and family patriarch who everyone in his community knows.
He was born in East Orange, NJ, to Max Drill, who founded Drill Construction in 1926, and Rose Schaffer Drill, a homemaker. They raised Phil and his older brother, Richard, in Newark. Rose died when Phil was seven. While his father eventually remarried seven years later, Phil spent the intervening years, in his words, as a “loner.”
He graduated from Weequahic High School in 1945 and enlisted in the Army before earning his B.S. in civil engineering from Widener University in Chester, PA, in 1951. He had joined his father’s construction company the year before. In 1975, he took over its leadership from his father, and he and his brother ran the company until Richard’s death in 2006.
Today, their combined four sons, the third generation of Drills, run it. Phil remains chairman of the board.
Phil ventured into sculpture in the 1970s. He was surprised to find that what began as an “interest” soon became a passion and then a second career. He started by working with copper, then bronze, then steel, acrylics and glass. He studied with luminaries in the field, including Claudio Capotondi, Harold Sclar and Hans Rawinsky. His work has been showcased in galleries, museums and shows and resides in private and public collections.
In a 2011 newspaper interview with Patch (West Orange, NJ), Phil explained how both his work and his art feed his soul. “I love construction,” he said, noting that he worked full time in a demanding, fast moving environment. “[Sculpting] is… a completely different environment; sculpting requires patience and a different kind of imagination.”
Phil has five children from his first wife, from whom he’s now divorced. He is married to Ellen Greene, a mother of two. (They didn’t exactly rush into wedlock; they’ve been together 40-plus years, married for more than 20. “We’re now married for longer than we dated,” he says.)
Together they have seven children, fifteen grandchildren and five great-children—it comes to about 40 people for Thanksgiving.
Phil has served on various boards, including the Actors Studio (he rebuilt their Manhattan building) and is a past president of New Jersey’s YMHA camps, which, as he told Moment, played an important role in his early life.
Here’s our recent conversation:
What was it like for you, losing your mother at such a young age?
It affected me more than I realized. My mother died when I was seven. A rabbi gave her a dispensation to eat bacon because they thought bacon was good for cancer. But it didn’t work. My father was on the board of a YMHA camp and I started going. We had a camp mother in those days. And so I looked forward to camp. Because for two months, there was a woman there, a woman who cared.
Who else helped you through those difficult in-between years?
My grandmother, Sophie Schaffer, my mom’s mother. And a wonderful housekeeper named Freda. My teachers at school, starting in grade school.
Seventh and eighth grade were tough, same with ninth grade. As a teenager, I was basically a loner. Not having a mother at home, I was lonely. But I had a homeroom teacher, Mrs. Hilda Lutzke, a wonderful lady. She had no compunction about calling parents and saying to them, “You know, your kid came to class today with her hair in a mess.” She had no problem interacting with parents. I spent time in her apartment and with her family.
She was the youngest teacher in Newark, she may have been only 21. And she was dealing with adolescents. I would be late to school every day because I had a paper route, and every day she would say to me, “Phil, you’re late.” And every day I would say, “I can’t help it.
I kept in touch with her until she died at age 100. I would take her to play bridge and have lunch with her at the local JCC. Just because we were friends. And one good turn deserves another.
What kind of student were you?
I was a mediocre student. I’d be sitting in history class on the top floor of the school, watching the Army B29s being ferried out of Newark Airport. They were obviously going to Europe. I was fascinated by plane after plane taking off to go overseas.
What else do you remember about your childhood?
Music lessons at school. I remember the Hohner harmonica that had the chromatic scale. I wasn’t too good, but I played it. Then my dad hired the teacher to teach me the accordion. I used his 120-key accordion. When I practiced, they had to tie the ropes together so it wouldn’t fall off of me.
What did you learn in those formative years with your mom gone? How did they help make you wise?
I have very few memories of having deep discussions with my dad. He was always working. I honestly can’t remember many conversations. So, I raised myself. I learned not to care much about others’ opinions. I had to develop self-confidence to be where I am now.
“The most important thing is to be respected. You don’t have to broadcast your morality, you just have to live it.”
I do remember from my dad that he always let me do what I wanted and learn by experience. For instance, at one point, I wanted to own a printing press. My father was against it, but I wanted it and he didn’t stop me—I bought a printing press. And I quickly realized it was a foolish purchase and returned it. I know I must have gotten on his nerves at times because he threatened to send me to military school. But he knew young people should be allowed to explore things.
What else did you explore?
As a kid, I used to fix children’s bicycles. I was interested in photography. In high school, I heard someone say something about a progressive newspaper called PM. When I started to sell it, a history teacher grabbed me by the ear and dragged me to the principal, Mr. Hertzberg, who himself used to write book reviews for the New York Evening News. She said to him, “Are you going to let him sell this rag?” He said, “I’ll subscribe!”
I wanted to fly. I was a private pilot for a while. My dad said, “If I was younger, I’d be doing it, too.” My father-in-law sent me pictures of plane crashes. I eventually got a license. But I had to make a moral decision that if you’re going to fly, you need to be able to fly at night. Weather in Jersey…there aren’t that many great days. And there are lots of regulations that I would have to spend a great deal of time on, mothering an airplane and not giving that time to my family. I didn’t feel that was fair to them.
When pilates came around, I was one of the first to take classes. If I’m not on the cutting edge of something, I want to be next to the cutting edge.
How did you come to explore sculpture?
Paula, created by Philip Drill.
In the 1970s, I answered an ad in the Village Voice from a sculptor who was looking for students and I went for lessons. You took copper tubing and you made an armature [metal framework] and wrapped lead-coated copper strips to form a piece of sculpture. My first piece of sculpture was from a bone and the second was from a shell I found. Sculpture is only as good as your caster. It’s up to the mold maker to restrict what you can do. One piece that I named Paula used seven pieces of a mold in order to get cast. Then I worked in bronze.
Life, made with bronze and created by Philip Drill in 1986.
What are you working on now?
The trees in my neighborhood have wonderful leaves! I found some really neat ones. I made the leaf out of a piece of copper and the rod that goes through it is a piece of brass. I’m a plagiarizer of nature.
I’m also working on pieces made of wax. It’s like you’re turning a child loose with very little supervision. That’s the caster. I’m the child. I try things and most of the time they work.
What do you believe is the most important thing in life?
Being moral. You have to be honest. Treat other people the way they would like to be treated. Make deals that are fair. Lead a good life.
But people have different ideas of morality. So, whose morality are we talking about?
Well, I know of only one that isn’t Jewish or Christian or [tied to any] religion, and that’s just living an honest life. It doesn’t require much training.
The most important thing is to be respected. You don’t have to broadcast your morality, you just have to live it.
How do you resolve disagreements in a moral way?
It’s very important that you study the other side first. If I had a work problem, my lawyer uncle would hear my case. If he didn’t think I knew enough about the other side, he would not take the case. Sometimes when he’d heard both sides, he’d say, “You know what, you don’t have a case.” And it was closed, as simple as that. Find out everything you can about the other side before you get into it.
What do you see as America’s and the world’s biggest challenges right now?
Our biggest challenges now are moral. And the biggest challenge is Trump. It’s ridiculous that this salesman has a following of people who are disappointed in life and are endangering democracy. Ours isn’t perfect but we have the best there is, so far. Vladimir Putin wants to be another Stalin. The prime minister of Israel needs to go.
Who in your lifetime do you think has been best for the job of U.S. president?
Obama. He was obviously highly intelligent. He developed into a leader with a good sense of language, and a very good mind and [talented] advisors. He pulled off an amazing election. And they’re still trying to get rid of Obamacare. It’s been in place for 10 years! How do you undo something that people need and feel is good for them? It doesn’t make any sense to me.
Why the national disconnect?
I think that a large number of people aren’t living in the world they expected. It’s tougher than they expected.
Is there anything that can hold today’s young people back from living their dreams?
Too much social media. Being followers. They follow people who are not leaders; they are paid influencers. Be independent!
Is there anything you have changed your views on in your lifetime?
Our government is not what I thought it was. Maybe we had an unreasonable expectation that most people involved in politics have a moral capacity.
What brings you joy?
Ellen is fantastic. My relationships with the kids and grandkids. Sculpture. Exploring New York City. I’m a tinkerer. I like to tinker.
What do you want to do next?
More sculpture!