What do we know and how do we really know it? This is an ambitious question, isn't it? Actu ally, I am going to presume on your forbearance by doing something a little different. It is tradi tional in Academy presidential addresses to speak about us as scholars, and how the Acad emy can better serve our needs. However, I want to break with that tradition today and take a step closer to presidential addresses in the other social sciences by addressing our ideas. I pro pose that at least some of what we know exists in separate domains, and I argue that many of us inhabit two parallel intellectual worlds. One of those worlds is the world of scholar ship. In this world we build on the intellectual work of others and conduct research in which we seek to carefully check claims against real ity. Our scholarship may be more or less rele vant to practice, or centered in the world of ideas, but in this scholarly world we are self conscious about careful definitions and the in tellectual history of our ideas, and we display a deliberate skepticism toward assertions and claims. We are all familiar with this world. However, I suggest that many of us also in habit a second world. I call this one the world of folk wisdom about management and organiza tions. This second world is not as openly ac knowledged, is not as well understood, and is underappreciated. I see these as parallel worlds, which means, if I recall my geometry correctly, that they never touch one another. Actually, this is an exagger ation. They do touch and inform one another for most of us, and the degree of their mutual influ ence differs from person to person. Some, of course, live wholly in the world of scholarship, and some live wholly in the world of folk wis dorn. And I am sure there are colleagues with extensive overlap between these worlds. So, with those caveats, and to be absolutely safe, I speak only about myself. My wish is to better understand our world of folk wisdom and to work toward greater mutual influence between both these worlds. The extent to which I, at least, was operating in two nearly parallel worlds became clear to me this last year. I had the opportunity thrust on me to practice what I have been preaching these past twenty years. I have been working two managerial jobs?one you know about, as pres ident of the Academy, but the other less well known: I have been serving as the interim dean of my management school. This latter job, for those who may not know, is a real managerial job. We are a 21 million dollar operation with about 240 employees, and less than 30 percent of our revenue comes from the state or endow ments. That means we have to find 70 percent of our budget every year out in the student-tuition marketplace. We need to do all of this while coping with a bureaucracy?the University of California?that puts adjectives like Byzantine, red tape, bureaucratic, ossified, and Kafkaesque to shame. Putting together the Academy pro gram two years ago and serving as president this year were certainly managerial learning experiences, but these responsibilities were like kicking pebbles compared to the Sisyphean task of running a fee-dependent, ambitious business school encased in a research-proud state uni versity system. But I am not here to whine; really I am not. Rather, I want to be a reflective observer who uses my time doing some real, serious organi zational management to learn more about what we know as scholars and how we know it. So I asked myself: Was anything I learned studying, teaching, and thinking about management and I thank Greg Bigley, Harry Briggs, Rob Folger, and Lyman Porter for their comments on earlier versions of this address.