Something Important Has Been Lost.

On July 11, 2026, Robert Cole, the man who transformed Cal Performances at UC Berkeley from a respected regional presenter into an international cultural juggernaut, passed away. No doubt his professional achievements, his impact, and his accolades will come forward soon enough from critics, associates, and artists throughout the industry. All of it is well deserved.

For those of us who had the privilege of knowing him, or as in my case, counting him as a mentor and friend for over three decades, his death is a profound personal loss. But it is also an institutional one. Robert’s passing signals the sunset of a distinct era in American arts leadership.

For nearly forty years, the "old guard" ran our theaters, orchestras, and presenting houses. They were conductors, directors, and artists by training. They led with their ears, their guts, and their Rolodexes. Under their watch, relationships were currency, and artistic risk was the means to an end, not a problem to be solved. And now, as my generation exits the stage, we find ourselves staring at a leadership gap, trying to figure out who the next generation of cultural risk takers will be.

Staring into this artistic abyss, we have to ask some uncomfortable questions. Why is the pipeline so bereft of artistic professionals? Were the legends of Robert’s generation mentors, or were they gatekeepers? And why is the army of smart, hungry young grads pouring out of arts administration programs struggling to take the wheel? Executive leadership seems increasingly populated by bureaucrats and business leaders; people who have been tapped by politicians or board members for their business background or fundraising capacity, not for their cultural expertise.

To understand the conundrum, we have to look at how knowledge was transferred. Historically, arts administration operated like a medieval guild. You didn’t study "presenting" in a classroom; you swept the stage, sat in the back of the house at rehearsals, and learned the tacit, unwritten rules of the trade through osmosis. Robert was not a mentor in the traditional sense, yet much of what I learned about the business came from him. When a temperamental soprano refused to go on at half hour because the acoustical panels were not in the right place and the piano was "dirty," Robert and I vacuumed the piano while the crew moved the panels. A musician and conductor by training, Robert understood what artists needed. That is not a skill you can easily put on a syllabus. It is felt.

Over the last twenty-five years we professionalized the field, which is a good thing. We created master’s programs in arts administration, producing a highly capable class of young leaders. They are smart and willing. They understand tax compliance, digital marketing, and non-profit governance. Yet, there is a mismatch. We have replaced the Guild with the Credential.

The new generation has the theory, but they are held at arm's length from the apprenticeship. Why? Is it because the old guard, for all their brilliance, were not always natural educators of their own business models? Curation was often seen as a mystical act of individual genius rather than a shared, teachable craft. If you weren't in the inner circle, the gates remained firmly shut. As a consequence, we didn't build a pipeline. We built a moat. The fault is ours, not theirs.

When these young administrators do get through the gates, they face a different kind of barrier. They are inheriting organizations that are structurally crippled by risk-averse thinking. When Robert Cole took over Cal Performances in 1986, he was allowed to take expensive risks. He championed a young Mark Morris, co-commissioned June Jordan and John Adams, and brought the Berliner Ensemble to the West Coast. He was allowed to take risks because funders and the administration trusted and supported his artistic acumen. It is also fair to say that during this time arts organizations were on a firmer footing through endowments and grant opportunities that no longer exist.

Today's young leaders are not allowed to fail. They are handed legacy organizations weighed down by structural deficits, shifting audience habits, and risk-phobic board members or government bureaucrats. They are forced to defend every artistic choice against the bottom line. We have replaced the impresario with the accountant.

When I started this coaching practice it was because I had a sense of this "soft skill" knowledge gap in the industry. With the loss of Robert, I now feel a greater sense of urgency to help those who are qualified yet kept at arm's length from the levers of power. The good news is that I am encouraged by some of my clients who have adopted a new strategy: risk mitigation through entrepreneurship. They have been exploring new sources of revenue, new spaces to create work, and new opportunities to present artists in ways that are not tied to the old, ossified institutional framework.

It remains to be seen if the large performing arts institutions are able to allow the incoming generation the license to make mistakes. If you hire a brilliant creative mind only to force them to program a safe, sterile, mind-numbingly boring season to satisfy a budget spreadsheet, you are not preserving the institution. You are embalming it.

Robert Cole’s legacy isn’t just the formative performances and preeminent artists he brought to Berkeley. His legacy is the belief that the arts are a daring, living adventure.

Now the old guard is stepping away from the podium. The house lights are down, and the audience is waiting. It’s time to let the new generation take the baton and trust them to play their own music.