Skip to main content

Richard T. Liddicoat–Mr. GIA

In this episode, Mr. GIA . . .

Can you name one person who, during your lifetime, changed your life in an extraordinary way? Was it a parent, a teacher, a historical figure, or maybe a serendipitous acquaintance? One person stands out among all others - Richard T. Liddicoat. Sunday, March 2, 2025, would have been Mr. Liddicoat’s 107th birthday. Although he passed away in 2002, his memory lives on in me.

In 1985, as a resident student at the Gemological Institute of America (GIA) in Santa Monica, CA, I was invited by Richard T. Liddicoat Jr. (then Chairman of the Board) to his office.

Liddicoat was a student of human nature, a lover of gemstones, and a lifetime GIA advocate. He would visit every Resident (on campus) Colored Stone/Gem Identification classroom just before each class was to graduate. He would often bring samples of remarkable gems submitted to the GIA Gem Trade Laboratory for the students to see. He would also stop by a classroom to discuss industry trends, the latest developments in synthetics, or whatever the hot topic of the day was.

Honestly, I can’t remember what he said the day he visited our classroom because when he asked, “Any questions? Everyone sat there, blank expressions on their faces, horrified to speak. After all, this was Mr. Liddicoat–who wrote the book on Gemology—a jewelry industry icon—the Father of Modern Gemology, Mr. GIA! Needless to say, our group was somewhat intimidated.

At that time, in addition to the Gem Identification Lab Manual, Liddicoat’s  Handbook of Gem Identification (first published in 1947) was provided to each student as a supplementary reference tool for understanding what to look for and the tests necessary to verify the identification of unknown gemstones. My copy was well-thumbed, and I consistently ferreted out identification clues that the "Lab Manual" did not offer.

In the dead silence, my hand shot up enthusiastically, “Mr. Liddicoat, would you sign my copy of your book?” “Absolutely,” He said. “Stop by my office after class.”

So, I did . . .

I’ll never forget what he asked me that day: “What are your plans after graduation? We want you to return as one of our instructors. We're always looking for young people with your enthusiasm.” His uncanny ability to cultivate people was like mining for gems: He always looked for the good in others.

For those of you who knew Mr. Liddicoat–whom many GIA staff affectionately called "RTL"–he was our leader, friend, and patriarch for over 60 years. RTL treated everyone at GIA like his son or daughter. During his visits to the Carlsbad campus long after retirement, he would stroll the halls, greeting students and colleagues by name and taking the time to chat with and encourage each individual.

His accomplishments encompassed many aspects of gemology: Liddicoat created the internationally recognized diamond grading system, expanded GIA’s education programs, elevated the Gem Trade laboratory and research functions, developed instruments to aid gem identification, wrote ground-breaking articles and books, was Editor and Chief of Gems & Gemology, and was the visionary behind the idea of a world-class gemological research library, which now bears his name: The Richard T. Liddicoat Gemological Library and Information Center.

In honor of his birthday, I hope you will take a few minutes to reflect on the values he imbued in you: integrity, respect, empathy, authenticity, and a willingness to go the extra mile for anyone who needs encouragement and direction.

He will always hold a special place in my heart as Mr. GIA, just as he does for millions of students worldwide.

Now, I realize that Mr. Liddicoat was a unique individual among millions. Still, my message is to remember that we encounter remarkable people who influence us and others daily. In our fast-paced world, take the time to appreciate and thank those exceptional individuals who make a difference–you may be one of them!

I'm Patrick Ball. Remember–stay curious and ask questions. See you in the next episode.

Comments

Anonymous said…
I lovely tribute - to a lovely man. Nicely done!

Most Popular of All Time

Boy on a Beam

In this special bonus episode, Boy on a Beam. In a world long ago, when the days moved quite slow, Before buzzes and beeps and the fast things we know, A boy sat quite still on a very fine day, Just staring at nothing . . . and thinking away. No tablets! No gadgets! No screens shining bright! No earbuds stuck in from morning till night. No lists, no charts, and no chores to be done. He just sat there thinking—that's quiet-time fun! His name was Young Albert. He sat in his chair, Thinking of things that weren’t really there. “Suppose,” said Young Albert, with eyes open wide, “I ran super fast with my arms by my side! Suppose I ran faster than anyone knew, And caught up to sunshine that zoomed past me—too! If I hopped on its back for a light-speedy ride, What secrets would I find tucked away deep inside?” “Would stars look like sprinkles, all shiny and small? Would UP feel like sideways? Would BIG feel like Tall?” He giggled and wondered and thought, and he dreamed, Till his head fel...

When Fear Becomes the Default

In this special episode, When Fear Becomes the Default. Early Sunday morning, I was cycling past a small veterans’ pocket park in San Marcos. The air was still, the streets nearly empty. On one corner stood a young woman, alone, holding a hand-painted sign that read: “Be ANGRY. ICE agents are murdering people.” I pedaled past, but the words stayed with me. I knew the context—the footage and headlines from Minneapolis the day before, already ricocheting through the country and hardening opinions. Even in the quiet of the ride, the noise followed. Two miles later, I stopped at a red light. A black car with dark windows pulled up inches from my bike. My heart jumped. My first instinct wasn’t neighbor —it was threat . I found myself bracing, scanning, and wondering if the person inside was angry, armed, or looking for trouble. Then the door opened. A well-dressed young woman stepped out, walked to the trunk, and pulled out a sign that read “Open House.” She turned, smiled brightly, and sa...

The Thought Experiment–Revisited

In this episode. The Thought Experiment–Revisited The Boy on a Light Beam In 1895, a sixteen-year-old boy did something we rarely allow ourselves to do anymore. He stared into space and let his mind wander. No phone. No notes. No “Optimization Hacks” for his morning routine. Just a question: What would happen if I chased a beam of light—and actually caught it? That boy was Albert Einstein . And that single act of curiosity—a Gedankenexperiment , a thought experiment—eventually cracked open Newton’s tidy universe and rearranged our understanding of time itself. Not bad for an afternoon of daydreaming. Imagine if Einstein had been “productive” instead. He would have logged the light-beam idea into a Notion database, tagged it #CareerGrowth, and then promptly ignored it to attend a forty-five-minute “Sync” about the color of the departmental logo. He’d have a high Efficiency Score—and we’d still be stuck in a Newtonian universe , wondering why the Wi-Fi is slow. In a post I wrote back in...

Sweden Called . . . They Said No.

Have you ever wondered about  the Nobel Prize? Let's look at Where Genius Meets “Wait—Where’s My Medal?” Every October, the Nobel Prizes are announced, and humanity pauses to celebrate the "greatest benefit to mankind." And every year, like clockwork, a specific type of person appears online to complain—at length—that they were robbed. (Well, maybe this year more than most.) The Origin: A Legacy of Guilt The prize exists because Alfred Nobel, a Swedish inventor, had a crisis of conscience. Nobel held 355 patents, but he was most famous for inventing dynamite. When a French newspaper mistakenly published his obituary, calling him the " Merchant of Death, " he decided to buy a better legacy. In his 1895 will, he left the bulk of his massive fortune to establish five prizes (Physics, Chemistry, Medicine, Literature, and Peace). Because he was Swedish, he entrusted the selection to Swedish institutions, such as the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences. The only outlier...