Richard Larson and the Power of Thoughtful Work

Sometimes, purpose finds you in the most unexpected places. For Richard Larson, it wasn’t during a planned career milestone or a prestigious academic moment. It was while building a smarter scheduling system for New York City’s newly launched 911 emergency service.

As a young graduate student, he stepped into a world where data met urgency, and theory met action. The work was intense, but the impact was immediate. Call delays dropped. The system became more responsive. And for Larson, the experience became something more than a project. It became a turning point.

That quiet moment of clarity revealed something that would guide him for decades. A belief that research could serve people. That curiosity could lead to compassion. And that the best kind of success is the one that quietly improves the world around you.

Where It All Began

He didn’t set out to be a professor. In fact, it was necessity that first led Richard Larson into a classroom. As a graduate student at MIT, he needed a teaching assistantship to cover his tuition and living expenses. That’s when he discovered something unexpected.

“I loved lighting up the eyes of my in-class students as they grasped new exciting concepts,” he recalls, “especially in applied probability.”

It wasn’t just the subject that drew him in. It was the moment of shared discovery, the quiet click of understanding that passed between teacher and student. That energy became a constant in his life, even in retirement.

Larson did not follow a pre-planned route into academia. He followed connection. What began as a practical step turned into a lifelong pursuit, shaping the way he approached teaching and every part of his work with clarity, empathy, and a lasting sense of purpose.

When Numbers Save Lives

One of the earliest and most defining chapters in Richard Larson’s journey didn’t unfold inside a lab or lecture hall. It happened in a city buzzing with urgency, inside a call center that had just launched the 911 emergency number.

At the time, Larson was a graduate student consulting for public safety agencies in New York. He noticed a troubling pattern. Callers to the newly introduced emergency number were often stuck waiting. Letters to editors spoke of long on-hold delays, and Larson felt compelled to understand the problem from the ground up.

He volunteered to stay in the city and work directly with two NYPD lieutenants. While they focused on training, he focused on the data. Hourly call volumes varied sharply throughout the week, and using Erlang’s equations from queueing theory, he built a scheduling system tailored to those shifts.

“When I presented the findings to the Police Commissioner, he didn’t believe the delays were that bad,” Larson shares. “But the lieutenants confirmed it, and within a week, everything I recommended was implemented.”

The results were immediate. Response times improved, delays dropped, and the system began to work as intended. It was one of Larson’s first brushes with impact at scale. The right idea, at the right time, could do far more than solve a problem. It could protect lives.

Fueled by Focus and Faith

For someone who has spent a lifetime working with models, numbers, and systems, Richard Larson speaks often of things that cannot be quantified. Energy. Focus. Compassion. Gratitude. These aren’t lines on a resume. They are the quiet constants behind every project, every decision, and every interaction.

When asked what keeps him moving forward, even in the face of complexity or challenge, his answer is simple. The Creator, he says, gave him a few gifts. Among them, the ability to focus and a deep love for learning.

There is something almost paradoxical about Larson. His work is rooted in logic, yet his worldview is full of heart. He doesn’t separate personal from professional, nor does he see success as something measurable by public applause. What matters is showing up fully and doing your best.

“I feel great only when I view my effort as my best,” he says, not as advice, but as a lived truth. It’s a value system that has shaped both his discipline and his ease, allowing him to operate at a high level without losing sight of what really matters.

Grounded by Love, Guided by Presence

In the middle of a thriving academic and consulting career, Larson never lost sight of the people waiting for him at home. His wife, M. Elizabeth Murray, and their three children were always at the center of his world. While others might have struggled to balance deadlines and personal time, he made his choice early.

He treated family time as non-negotiable, often setting aside several hours a day to be with them, no matter how full his calendar looked. This wasn’t a strategy. It was a value.

Even now, in retirement, the memory of those routines grounds him. His wife’s passing two years ago marked an immense personal loss, but also left behind a deep well of reflection. The bond they shared, and the choices they made together, shaped how he viewed work, life, and success.

His approach to well-being was never about carving time away from responsibility. It was about showing up with presence, whether at a meeting table or the dinner table. In both places, his priority was the same. To give his best attention, his best self, and his best effort.

The People Who Opened Doors

No journey unfolds alone. For Richard Larson, a few key people helped shape not just his career, but his way of thinking. Among them were two mentors he still speaks of with great respect. Professor Alvin Drake and Dr. Alfred Blumstein.

Drake, his MIT advisor, encouraged him to explore beyond the obvious. “He urged me to take prudent risks,” Larson recalls, “and try new things, like spending 200 hours in the rear seats of police cars to understand how urban policing functions.” It was guidance that helped Larson step out of the textbook and into real-world systems.

Blumstein’s invitation to join the Science and Technology Task Force of the President’s Crime Commission was another turning point. Larson was its youngest member, but the experience set a high bar for interdisciplinary collaboration and civic responsibility.

These mentors didn’t just teach him. They trusted him. That trust became a blueprint for how he would later guide students, encourage colleagues, and lead teams. Knowledge mattered, but trust, curiosity, and openness mattered more.

Sound, Rebellion, and the Road to MIT

Before queuing models and policy reform, there was rock and roll. As a teenager in the 1950s, Larson found a kind of freedom in the explosive energy of Elvis Presley, Little Richard, and Fats Domino. It wasn’t just noise to him. It was electricity.

His father, Gilbert Larson, saw the passion and built him a soundproof room in their New Jersey basement. That room, outfitted with massive woofers and hand-crafted speakers, became a haven for music and experimentation. It was also where Richard first became curious about acoustics and electronics.

“I came to appreciate electrical engineering through that space,” he says. “It was more than just listening. It was learning.” That love for circuits and sound evolved into his decision to major in Electrical Engineering at MIT.

Sometimes, what looks like a hobby is the earliest sign of direction. For Larson, those afternoons filled with bass and soldering tools quietly laid the foundation for a lifetime of hands-on problem solving.

A Life Well Tuned

Today, Richard Larson may call himself retired, but the principles that have guided him remain unchanged. Curiosity, integrity, and a quiet devotion to doing meaningful work still echo through his life. Whether it was in a classroom, a police department, or a soundproof basement, he showed that impact doesn’t always need a stage. Sometimes, it just needs intention.

His legacy isn’t just in the systems he improved or the students he taught. It lives in the way he approached each day. With focus, empathy, and a deep respect for learning. In a world that often celebrates the loudest voices, Richard Larson reminds us of the quiet power of doing your best and meaning it.