Self-Filtering
A few years ago, former Stanford President Donald Kennedy wrote an editorial in the magazine Science about the relative lack of science researchers with undergraduate degrees from prestigious research universities. The Harvards, Yales, Princetons and Stanfords of the world are great at providing this country its CEOs, Presidents and Supreme Court Justices, but when it comes to the science professorate, they don't do as well as you might expect.
Instead, it’s liberal arts colleges – the Reeds, Carletons and Grinnells of the world – that tend to have more visibility. If you look at university publications and see where science professors went to school as undergraduates you’ll find places you never heard of, often small liberal arts colleges from the Midwest. It’s not just science professors. Those liberal arts colleges have a tendency to be the source of the professorate in the humanities and social sciences as well.*
Donald Kennedy argued in his op-ed that research universities weren’t doing the job that they should with undergraduates. If they spent more effort at undergraduate instruction, you’d see more students go on to get Ph.Ds. But I don’t think that’s quite right. Sure, it would be wonderful if research universities took undergraduate education more seriously, but the effect on the future careers of students would be minor.
Instead something else is happening: self-filtering. Students who attend liberal arts colleges tend to be a different kind of student. They aren’t after the prestige of a nationally known research powerhouse loaded with Nobel Prize winning faculty. They aren’t attracted to rooting for a big time sports powerhouse. They don’t care if the school is located in the middle of nowhere in a cold climate. They tend to go to college for a simple reason: they want a good education.
When you have a population of students with those tendencies, it’s easier to maintain a serious educational environment. The students have a proclivity for serious inquiry. The faculty have the benefit of having a greater percentage serious students; they can keep expectations fairly high. It’s not surprising that a higher percentage of those students go on to get Ph.Ds.
In contrast, research universities tend to attract a different kind of student. They want to be associated with a school that has Nobel Prize winners. They want to root for the football and basketball team gunning for a national title. They want to go to a school in a town that has a lot going on besides the university. They tend to choose a college based on a mix of criteria. Quality education is in that mix, but it isn’t the primary driver.
When you have students who have applied and attend your school for reasons other than education, it’s hard to keep the academic environment serious. The students have less of an intellectual bent to begin with, something that was noted in a wonderful essay in the Harvard Crimson several years ago:
“It's time we, the student body, write a collective letter to our friends at Williams or Swarthmore, Wesleyan or Amherst. It doesn't have to be long, just enough to admit the truth: Liberal-arts colleges, you win. You possess the nation's most innovative minds, the most intellectual student body. You are the stomping grounds for the great thinkers of the next millennium. We, Harvard, will stop trying to lord over you, stop saying that we are better or smarter, because it just isn't true. You can out-think us any day of the week.
There. Once that is said, we can all go on with being more honestly what we are--not intellectuals.
Don't get me wrong: Harvard students can be, and often are, great. They just aren't intellectuals.” (No Intellectuals Need Apply, December 9, 1999).
It’s not surprising that a lower percentage of Harvard students go on for Ph.Ds than those at Williams et al.
An interesting piece of data is that the percentages are actually not all that different. At top-notch liberal arts colleges, about 11 percent of all students go on to Ph.D. study. In contrast, about 9 percent of all Harvard students eventually get Ph.D.s. The numbers at Stanford, Yale, Princeton et al. are also at about 9 percent. For those Duke-heads out there that read this blog (and there seem to be quite a few Duke-heads that read this thing much to my surprise), the number is 7 percent. On paper, the difference in percentages seems so small as to be insignificant. But it isn’t. Those two percent differences represent significant differences in campus climate.
If a university wants a serious undergraduate environment it needs to somehow address the self-filtering of the applicants. It needs to create an environment that looks attractive to the kind of student who has a school like Grinnell – a tiny school stuck in the middle of Iowa corn and soybean fields - on his or her list of prospective schools. Serious undergraduate environments come from serious undergraduate students. Get those students in a classroom, and my guess is that professors at any college or university will happily respond by raising the bar.
*I note that I went to my local state school to save money, University of Wisconsin. I don't have a dog in this "fight" of private research universities versus private liberal arts colleges. By the way, tuition at UW was $700 a year at the time. I could pay for my entire schooling (rent, food and tuition) by working on construction or as a bicycle mechanic over the summer. Times have changed a bit.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Barking Dogs
I still occasionally read the Duke Chronicle. It amazes me that the discussion of what 88 faculty members did and didn’t do keeps going on and on in that paper. I shouldn’t be so surprised. Academia is a haven for people who don’t know when they are beating a dead horse.
What is most disheartening about the discussion is how unintelligent it all is. On the political right, the 88 faculty members are painted as caricatures participating in a morality play where the future of academia lies in the balance. On the political left, the 88 faculty members are painted as caricatures as well, victims of a witch hunt which, if successful, will destroy free speech. There’s a lot of name-calling. There hasn’t been one instance where there has been an intelligent debate. Rather, it’s like barking dogs.
You should expect more from a college campus than an imitation of the Jerry Springer Show. I stopped reading the articles about the 88 faculty members as a result. It’s just too depressing to see people put so little thought into their writing.
I do note though that the Provost of Duke, Peter Lange, has apparently resurrected my former gig and has become the faculty/administrator columnist. That’s ironic. In personality, he’s my polar opposite. We never got along. As someone named “Keith Stanley” (not me using a pseudonym) wrote, Lange’s first column reads like a parody.*
It's funny that Lange has no idea he is engaging in self-parody. He does this in speeches as well. Lange is like the Colbert Report come to Duke. Someone needs to find the nerve to tell him he's acting like an ass. I’m not sounding like a barking dog am I? Bow wow. I'm just trying to be helpful, honest.
*There is someone named D. Keith Stanley who is an Emeritus Professor of Classics. I have no idea if the writer of the comment on the op-ed is Professor Stanley.
I still occasionally read the Duke Chronicle. It amazes me that the discussion of what 88 faculty members did and didn’t do keeps going on and on in that paper. I shouldn’t be so surprised. Academia is a haven for people who don’t know when they are beating a dead horse.
What is most disheartening about the discussion is how unintelligent it all is. On the political right, the 88 faculty members are painted as caricatures participating in a morality play where the future of academia lies in the balance. On the political left, the 88 faculty members are painted as caricatures as well, victims of a witch hunt which, if successful, will destroy free speech. There’s a lot of name-calling. There hasn’t been one instance where there has been an intelligent debate. Rather, it’s like barking dogs.
You should expect more from a college campus than an imitation of the Jerry Springer Show. I stopped reading the articles about the 88 faculty members as a result. It’s just too depressing to see people put so little thought into their writing.
I do note though that the Provost of Duke, Peter Lange, has apparently resurrected my former gig and has become the faculty/administrator columnist. That’s ironic. In personality, he’s my polar opposite. We never got along. As someone named “Keith Stanley” (not me using a pseudonym) wrote, Lange’s first column reads like a parody.*
It's funny that Lange has no idea he is engaging in self-parody. He does this in speeches as well. Lange is like the Colbert Report come to Duke. Someone needs to find the nerve to tell him he's acting like an ass. I’m not sounding like a barking dog am I? Bow wow. I'm just trying to be helpful, honest.
*There is someone named D. Keith Stanley who is an Emeritus Professor of Classics. I have no idea if the writer of the comment on the op-ed is Professor Stanley.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Why Bob Knight is a Better Man Than the Guy Who Fired Him
Myles Brand, president of the NCAA, has turned out to be a disaster as a leader, a sheep in lion’s clothing. When he became president, he was touted as a reformer. He expressed a wish to “turn down the volume” on the influence of scholarship athletics on college campuses. Fat chance. The volume has been turned up over the time of his leadership. Big time sports have become even bigger. Conferences have grown in size, leading to more playoff games to determine conference champions (which increases TV revenue). Conferences are no longer confined to fairly small geographical regions, which means more time necessary for travel.
The type of reform instituted during the time of Myles Brand has been of the smoke and mirrors variety. The graduation rates of big time sports – football and basketball - are pathetic. But rather than promote meaningful change – increase admission standards and decrease the number of games played – Myles Brand has simply chosen to change the criteria by which graduation rates are compiled. He has in essence cooked the books.
Myles Brand was once a rather anonymous figure in academia, a mild mannered unobtrusive and bland president of the University of Indiana. He owes his NCAA presidency and near million-dollar salary to his very public firing of legendary Indiana basketball coach Bobby Knight. Brand called the firing the “hardest decision I ever made.” That’s telling right there. If firing a basketball coach was the hardest decision he ever made as a university president, he must have been one lousy and ineffectual president.
Bob Knight is many things. He's violent and volatile. He’s arrogant. I don’t mind arrogant people as long as they can back up their arrogance with talent. And that Mr. Knight can do. He is a basketball genius. His favorite song is Frank Sinatra's “My Way.” I can relate. It was my father’s favorite song as well. My father was also arrogant. He also had a violent temper. And he was also a genius at what he did.
You can call Bob Knight (and could call my father) many nasty names. But one thing you can’t call him is phony. He is what he is warts and all. You can add many complimentary epithets to Myles Brand’s name, but you can’t call him genuine. He is in fact as phony as a three-dollar bill.
Recently, Bob Knight was asked about a rule change in the NBA that essentially requires all players to spend a year in college. Mr. Knight, who is now a coach at Texas A&M, told like it is. He called it the "the worst thing that's happened to college basketball since I've been coaching.” He went on to say:
“Because now you can have a kid come to school for a year and play basketball and he doesn't even have to go to class. He certainly doesn't have to go to class the second semester. I'm not exactly positive about the first semester. But he would not have to attend a single class the second semester to play through the whole second semester of basketball. That, I think, has a tremendous effect on the integrity of college sports."
Thank you Mr. Knight. There isn’t a college president or basketball coach who would be as honest, to the point, and insightful.
And what does Myles Brand have to say on this issue? Nothing. Instead he spends his time touting his smoke and mirrors reforms and going to Congress to defend the tax-exempt status of college sports. In his recent State of the NCAA address, he continued to spew Orwellian:
“I challenge the critics of college sports, in the media and on campus, to get their facts right.
It is no mystery why student-athletes perform better academically than the general student body. First, they tend to enter college better prepared.
The average GPA of entering Division I student-athletes, for the most recent year in which we have data, is 3.35, modestly higher than that for the general student body. The entering SAT scores for student-athletes is 1059, while that of the entering general student body is 1026. That’s a significant difference – 33 points!
The appellation ‘dumb jock’ is not only insulting, it is dead wrong!”
I challenge Myles Brand to not twist facts to his advantage. The average SAT scores for Division I basketball and football athletes in top 25 programs are about 900 last I checked. Of course, the NCAA no longer publishes data like that because it’s too embarrassing. It's hard to get facts right when the NCAA hides them.
As for Mr. Brand, the use of the word “reformer” to describe Myles Brand is an insult to all real leaders. Not only is it insulting, it is dead wrong.
Myles Brand, president of the NCAA, has turned out to be a disaster as a leader, a sheep in lion’s clothing. When he became president, he was touted as a reformer. He expressed a wish to “turn down the volume” on the influence of scholarship athletics on college campuses. Fat chance. The volume has been turned up over the time of his leadership. Big time sports have become even bigger. Conferences have grown in size, leading to more playoff games to determine conference champions (which increases TV revenue). Conferences are no longer confined to fairly small geographical regions, which means more time necessary for travel.
The type of reform instituted during the time of Myles Brand has been of the smoke and mirrors variety. The graduation rates of big time sports – football and basketball - are pathetic. But rather than promote meaningful change – increase admission standards and decrease the number of games played – Myles Brand has simply chosen to change the criteria by which graduation rates are compiled. He has in essence cooked the books.
Myles Brand was once a rather anonymous figure in academia, a mild mannered unobtrusive and bland president of the University of Indiana. He owes his NCAA presidency and near million-dollar salary to his very public firing of legendary Indiana basketball coach Bobby Knight. Brand called the firing the “hardest decision I ever made.” That’s telling right there. If firing a basketball coach was the hardest decision he ever made as a university president, he must have been one lousy and ineffectual president.
Bob Knight is many things. He's violent and volatile. He’s arrogant. I don’t mind arrogant people as long as they can back up their arrogance with talent. And that Mr. Knight can do. He is a basketball genius. His favorite song is Frank Sinatra's “My Way.” I can relate. It was my father’s favorite song as well. My father was also arrogant. He also had a violent temper. And he was also a genius at what he did.
You can call Bob Knight (and could call my father) many nasty names. But one thing you can’t call him is phony. He is what he is warts and all. You can add many complimentary epithets to Myles Brand’s name, but you can’t call him genuine. He is in fact as phony as a three-dollar bill.
Recently, Bob Knight was asked about a rule change in the NBA that essentially requires all players to spend a year in college. Mr. Knight, who is now a coach at Texas A&M, told like it is. He called it the "the worst thing that's happened to college basketball since I've been coaching.” He went on to say:
“Because now you can have a kid come to school for a year and play basketball and he doesn't even have to go to class. He certainly doesn't have to go to class the second semester. I'm not exactly positive about the first semester. But he would not have to attend a single class the second semester to play through the whole second semester of basketball. That, I think, has a tremendous effect on the integrity of college sports."
Thank you Mr. Knight. There isn’t a college president or basketball coach who would be as honest, to the point, and insightful.
And what does Myles Brand have to say on this issue? Nothing. Instead he spends his time touting his smoke and mirrors reforms and going to Congress to defend the tax-exempt status of college sports. In his recent State of the NCAA address, he continued to spew Orwellian:
“I challenge the critics of college sports, in the media and on campus, to get their facts right.
It is no mystery why student-athletes perform better academically than the general student body. First, they tend to enter college better prepared.
The average GPA of entering Division I student-athletes, for the most recent year in which we have data, is 3.35, modestly higher than that for the general student body. The entering SAT scores for student-athletes is 1059, while that of the entering general student body is 1026. That’s a significant difference – 33 points!
The appellation ‘dumb jock’ is not only insulting, it is dead wrong!”
I challenge Myles Brand to not twist facts to his advantage. The average SAT scores for Division I basketball and football athletes in top 25 programs are about 900 last I checked. Of course, the NCAA no longer publishes data like that because it’s too embarrassing. It's hard to get facts right when the NCAA hides them.
As for Mr. Brand, the use of the word “reformer” to describe Myles Brand is an insult to all real leaders. Not only is it insulting, it is dead wrong.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Me and Kenny Chesney
Last week I got a call from Kenny Chesney’s producer asking me to email them some potential tunes for Chesney’s new album. I sent them three. The chance that any one of them will be used is very, very small. They are probably screening upwards of 3000 tunes for 3 spots on the album designated as potential singles. So the odds are one in 333. But the potential windfall would be great, a huge, huge pot of money if they use a tune as a single and it makes the top 10 of the charts.
Kenny Chesney gets a lot of ridicule. I’ll go through the litany. He’s short. He’s bald. He can’t sing. He looks like a rat. He might talk about a “keg in the closet” but he won’t come out of the closet (there’s a persistent rumor that he’s gay). He can’t write a decent song to save his soul. OK, I’m done with the litany.
The fact is that you can ridicule him all you want, but he can get 60,000 people to pay 40 bucks to hear him sing a couple of hours worth of songs. He gives those folks a good show. He works hard out there. And they love him.
Diss him. Criticize his fans. But he must have something that keeps people coming back. It’s called talent. It’s called charisma.
I’ll say one other thing for Kenny Chesney. The songs he sings don’t celebrate ignorance like many songs in country music do. It isn’t “proud to be a redneck” kind of stuff. It’s pleasant, feel good music. Is it deep? Nope. Not everyone wants depth in music. Most people want to be entertained and have a good time. Over the years, I’ve learned to respect that need.
Yes, I want art in music. I want art in movies, books and theater as well. But that’s just me. There’s no reason to impose my idea of what music, movies, books and theater should be on the rest of the world. It would be ridiculous. I have opinions, sure. But I also realize that my taste bears little relation to the taste of the public.
Last year, I heard someone ask the wonderful songwriter Jimmy Webb if he got upset when he heard someone sing a song of his without all of the chord changes he wrote. Mr. Webb smiled and said, “It all sounds good when it’s on the radio. It sounds real good.” If I’m lucky enough to have Kenny Chesney sing a song from my catalog, I have to tell you it’s going to sound real good to my ears.
Last week I got a call from Kenny Chesney’s producer asking me to email them some potential tunes for Chesney’s new album. I sent them three. The chance that any one of them will be used is very, very small. They are probably screening upwards of 3000 tunes for 3 spots on the album designated as potential singles. So the odds are one in 333. But the potential windfall would be great, a huge, huge pot of money if they use a tune as a single and it makes the top 10 of the charts.
Kenny Chesney gets a lot of ridicule. I’ll go through the litany. He’s short. He’s bald. He can’t sing. He looks like a rat. He might talk about a “keg in the closet” but he won’t come out of the closet (there’s a persistent rumor that he’s gay). He can’t write a decent song to save his soul. OK, I’m done with the litany.
The fact is that you can ridicule him all you want, but he can get 60,000 people to pay 40 bucks to hear him sing a couple of hours worth of songs. He gives those folks a good show. He works hard out there. And they love him.
Diss him. Criticize his fans. But he must have something that keeps people coming back. It’s called talent. It’s called charisma.
I’ll say one other thing for Kenny Chesney. The songs he sings don’t celebrate ignorance like many songs in country music do. It isn’t “proud to be a redneck” kind of stuff. It’s pleasant, feel good music. Is it deep? Nope. Not everyone wants depth in music. Most people want to be entertained and have a good time. Over the years, I’ve learned to respect that need.
Yes, I want art in music. I want art in movies, books and theater as well. But that’s just me. There’s no reason to impose my idea of what music, movies, books and theater should be on the rest of the world. It would be ridiculous. I have opinions, sure. But I also realize that my taste bears little relation to the taste of the public.
Last year, I heard someone ask the wonderful songwriter Jimmy Webb if he got upset when he heard someone sing a song of his without all of the chord changes he wrote. Mr. Webb smiled and said, “It all sounds good when it’s on the radio. It sounds real good.” If I’m lucky enough to have Kenny Chesney sing a song from my catalog, I have to tell you it’s going to sound real good to my ears.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Web site madness
Well it finally happened. Duke pulled the plug on my personal web site last week or so. I knew it would happen eventually. I'm surprised it took so long!
But that has meant that I've had to port all of that stuff to a new web site, stuartr.com. And since I'm porting it over, naturally it means I'm revising it. I'm almost finished! It's taken a ridiculous amount of time, but that's what the web does best, serve as a tremendous time sink. stuartr.com is now the host site for me and my wonderful alter ego, Stuart Rosh. From there you can go off in two directions, science geek or music impresario.
I created the name Stuart Rosh mostly because people in the music business couldn't deal with anything longer than about six letters. But it's been useful in many other ways. It's a good way to compartmentalize my life. Is this a Rojstaczer day when I think long and hard and write in long complicated sentences? Or is this a Rosh day when I try to keep it as simple as possible and lead with my heart instead of my head? Or is this a Napoleon Bonaparte day...no I'm not that crazy. Well maybe. But just harmlessly so.
Check out the new web site. If you see any glitches, let me know.
Well it finally happened. Duke pulled the plug on my personal web site last week or so. I knew it would happen eventually. I'm surprised it took so long!
But that has meant that I've had to port all of that stuff to a new web site, stuartr.com. And since I'm porting it over, naturally it means I'm revising it. I'm almost finished! It's taken a ridiculous amount of time, but that's what the web does best, serve as a tremendous time sink. stuartr.com is now the host site for me and my wonderful alter ego, Stuart Rosh. From there you can go off in two directions, science geek or music impresario.
I created the name Stuart Rosh mostly because people in the music business couldn't deal with anything longer than about six letters. But it's been useful in many other ways. It's a good way to compartmentalize my life. Is this a Rojstaczer day when I think long and hard and write in long complicated sentences? Or is this a Rosh day when I try to keep it as simple as possible and lead with my heart instead of my head? Or is this a Napoleon Bonaparte day...no I'm not that crazy. Well maybe. But just harmlessly so.
Check out the new web site. If you see any glitches, let me know.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Make Me Smile
If you ask college students today to name their favorite band, they'll say the Beatles. If you asked that same question 10 years ago, you'd get the same answer. It's actually a boring question to ask because it's had the same answer for 40 years.
The Beatles are the best. There is no doubt. There are many reasons for this. But one of them is that they weren't afraid to be funny. Most musicians have this naïve idea that to be an artist they have to be suffering or angry or just plain nuts. Not the Beatles. Some of their best songs were laugh out loud funny things. Guess what folks. You can be funny and still be an "artist." You can even be happy and still be an "artist."
Critics tend not to equate humor with artistry. Give them some doped up depressed cat with a guitar and they will go on and on about how genuine and compelling he is. Sorry. That cat might be an artist. But most likely he's just a depressed doper who happens to play guitar. Critics tend to be a depressed lot. So they are predisposed to like the sad sacks in life, be suspicious of those who make us laugh and be especially suspicious of those who smile.
The Beatles didn't care about any of that. They could depress you with Eleanor Rigby. They could make you feel good with Maxwell's Silver Hammer or When I'm 64. Funny or depressing, it was all art all the time.
Most "artists" avoid funny like the plague. They're too scared that they won't be taken seriously. But if you're good at what you do, who the hell cares what some depressed critic thinks? Just do it. My Morning Jacket comes close to being funny, but tends to stop short and stay in the land of irony. They would be better if they just let loose more often. Camper Van Beethoven wasn't in the class of the Beatles, but their best moments were when they aimed straight for the funny bone.
And what about me? I write a lot of funny songs. I could care less what some depressed critic thinks about my authenticity as a result. Those guys need to get a hold of some Prozac and get out of the music business because they're just wasting space anyway (not that I'm picking on any depressed critic in particular mind you).
I look at my iTunes collection. There's some great funny stuff on there. Tom Lehrer. Randy Newman. Dr. John. Mickey Katz (you have to know Yiddish to understand his stuff, but if you did you'd find it funny as hell). Spike Jones. Shel Silverstein. The Beatles. Johnny Mercer. Cole Porter. It's all art my friends.
So ask me the question: "What do you want to listen to, some "artist" going on and on about how miserable their life is or someone who can make you smile and laugh?" That answer is as easy to predict as asking an average college student to name his or her favorite band. Funny is always good.
If you ask college students today to name their favorite band, they'll say the Beatles. If you asked that same question 10 years ago, you'd get the same answer. It's actually a boring question to ask because it's had the same answer for 40 years.
The Beatles are the best. There is no doubt. There are many reasons for this. But one of them is that they weren't afraid to be funny. Most musicians have this naïve idea that to be an artist they have to be suffering or angry or just plain nuts. Not the Beatles. Some of their best songs were laugh out loud funny things. Guess what folks. You can be funny and still be an "artist." You can even be happy and still be an "artist."
Critics tend not to equate humor with artistry. Give them some doped up depressed cat with a guitar and they will go on and on about how genuine and compelling he is. Sorry. That cat might be an artist. But most likely he's just a depressed doper who happens to play guitar. Critics tend to be a depressed lot. So they are predisposed to like the sad sacks in life, be suspicious of those who make us laugh and be especially suspicious of those who smile.
The Beatles didn't care about any of that. They could depress you with Eleanor Rigby. They could make you feel good with Maxwell's Silver Hammer or When I'm 64. Funny or depressing, it was all art all the time.
Most "artists" avoid funny like the plague. They're too scared that they won't be taken seriously. But if you're good at what you do, who the hell cares what some depressed critic thinks? Just do it. My Morning Jacket comes close to being funny, but tends to stop short and stay in the land of irony. They would be better if they just let loose more often. Camper Van Beethoven wasn't in the class of the Beatles, but their best moments were when they aimed straight for the funny bone.
And what about me? I write a lot of funny songs. I could care less what some depressed critic thinks about my authenticity as a result. Those guys need to get a hold of some Prozac and get out of the music business because they're just wasting space anyway (not that I'm picking on any depressed critic in particular mind you).
I look at my iTunes collection. There's some great funny stuff on there. Tom Lehrer. Randy Newman. Dr. John. Mickey Katz (you have to know Yiddish to understand his stuff, but if you did you'd find it funny as hell). Spike Jones. Shel Silverstein. The Beatles. Johnny Mercer. Cole Porter. It's all art my friends.
So ask me the question: "What do you want to listen to, some "artist" going on and on about how miserable their life is or someone who can make you smile and laugh?" That answer is as easy to predict as asking an average college student to name his or her favorite band. Funny is always good.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Me and Anna Nicole
I didn’t think she was my type when I first met her. I was at a hotel bar in Dallas drinking a martini and there she was. A big blonde. Not my thing at all. But then we started talking and it was a meeting of the minds. She was well read. All that bimbo stuff was just an act to keep the tabloids happy. By the time she quoted Wittgenstein, I was a goner.
That was back in 1992. And through the years we would meet in discrete places far from the cameras and tabloids. I was married after all. And she had to keep up appearances of being an airhead. We would talk on the phone constantly. She said that in me she had found her other half; with me she was whole.
It wasn’t about the sex. Had I never touched her, I still would have loved her. But we did touch. In truth I wasn’t attracted to her physically, but she said it was important to her. So we did. And she was a generous lover for all of our years together.
Of course her child is mine. She told me it was. I believe her. Why should I not?
On the day of her death, my wife came home to find me in tears. I couldn’t hold back my secret any longer even if it meant the end of my marriage. Out it came in between my sobs, the whole history of my affair with Anna Nicole, every detail exposed for the world to see like Janet Jackson’s breast at the Super Bowl.
In the miracle of what is love, my wife forgave me. She comforted me. I cannot believe her generosity of spirit.
We talked about the child. She was resolute. She would take care of it as if it were her own. A glow instantly took hold of her and I could see the twinkle in her eye, the twinkle of being a mother to a baby. I came home the next day and was astonished; our guest room had already been transformed. A crib had replaced the futon. Cute little lace curtains adorned with Babar fluttered in the breeze coming through the open window. Spring had come back into our lives. We were going to be parents again.
The money means nothing to me. The child needs love. And who can best love her? Her biological father of course. These imposters will be found out once the DNA tests become public.
I miss Anna Nicole terribly. But I must soldier on. And as god is my witness, I will love that child until my dying day.
I didn’t think she was my type when I first met her. I was at a hotel bar in Dallas drinking a martini and there she was. A big blonde. Not my thing at all. But then we started talking and it was a meeting of the minds. She was well read. All that bimbo stuff was just an act to keep the tabloids happy. By the time she quoted Wittgenstein, I was a goner.
That was back in 1992. And through the years we would meet in discrete places far from the cameras and tabloids. I was married after all. And she had to keep up appearances of being an airhead. We would talk on the phone constantly. She said that in me she had found her other half; with me she was whole.
It wasn’t about the sex. Had I never touched her, I still would have loved her. But we did touch. In truth I wasn’t attracted to her physically, but she said it was important to her. So we did. And she was a generous lover for all of our years together.
Of course her child is mine. She told me it was. I believe her. Why should I not?
On the day of her death, my wife came home to find me in tears. I couldn’t hold back my secret any longer even if it meant the end of my marriage. Out it came in between my sobs, the whole history of my affair with Anna Nicole, every detail exposed for the world to see like Janet Jackson’s breast at the Super Bowl.
In the miracle of what is love, my wife forgave me. She comforted me. I cannot believe her generosity of spirit.
We talked about the child. She was resolute. She would take care of it as if it were her own. A glow instantly took hold of her and I could see the twinkle in her eye, the twinkle of being a mother to a baby. I came home the next day and was astonished; our guest room had already been transformed. A crib had replaced the futon. Cute little lace curtains adorned with Babar fluttered in the breeze coming through the open window. Spring had come back into our lives. We were going to be parents again.
The money means nothing to me. The child needs love. And who can best love her? Her biological father of course. These imposters will be found out once the DNA tests become public.
I miss Anna Nicole terribly. But I must soldier on. And as god is my witness, I will love that child until my dying day.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Leading With Your Heart
Essentially, I’ve always been a geek. I lead more with my head than with my heart. But maybe because it’s been awhile since I’ve spent any time solving differential equations on my computer (although tomorrow I’m going to go help someone do just that; it’ll be déjà vu day for me), I’m getting better at nurturing. Or maybe it’s just getting older. Who knows? All I know is that I use my heart to guide me far more than I ever did. And I think that’s a good thing.
I’ve met people who I believe have little or no capacity for love. And I can’t imagine living like that. It’s a very dark place to be.
Then I’ve met people who exude honest warmth and caring. It emanates from their pores. You can just feel it. When they walk into a room, just their presence makes everything better. That’s a gift. You have to born with that kind of nurturing spirit.
Yesterday, I went to get a present for my sweetie and the saleswoman reminded me of my mother. She looked like my mom when she was in her thirties. She walked like my mom. It was kind of eerie. Her accent was different, though. It wasn’t Polish. It was Arabic. And when I asked her where she was from, she said Jerusalem. She gave me a knowing look. And then she said, “You’re from there, too, aren’t you?” I have a vague accent, but it isn’t from the Middle East. But I knew what she meant. I look Israeli. I said, “I’ve lived there, yes.”
We talked about Jerusalem. It’s a beautiful city. When I was there, I would walk the streets and I could feel just how special a place it is. Back then there were no suicide bombers. There were no Israeli settlements in the West Bank. Then war broke out and the place has never been the same.
We talked about what a mess Israel is now. She said that she wanted to move back, but her children, born in the US, hated it. I understood. Israel is a place I could live again, but I can’t imagine my wife living there. And it’s so different – so much bleaker and harsher - now than it was when I was a kid that it likely would be a frustrating and depressing place to live.
She wanted peace, she said. Her details of what peace would entail would no doubt be different than mine. But it wasn’t a time to discuss that. I didn't want to talk politics, that's for sure. But I could feel her longing for a Jerusalem without war.
At heart, everyday people in Israel and Palestine want a safe place for the ones they love. I really believe that. And if we would simply let the desires of those everyday people govern policy – if we governed with our hearts – it just might be that peace in the Middle East would be attainable. I told her I wanted peace as well. And we left it at that.
Here’s wishing peace and love to everyone on this special day and more importantly beyond.
Essentially, I’ve always been a geek. I lead more with my head than with my heart. But maybe because it’s been awhile since I’ve spent any time solving differential equations on my computer (although tomorrow I’m going to go help someone do just that; it’ll be déjà vu day for me), I’m getting better at nurturing. Or maybe it’s just getting older. Who knows? All I know is that I use my heart to guide me far more than I ever did. And I think that’s a good thing.
I’ve met people who I believe have little or no capacity for love. And I can’t imagine living like that. It’s a very dark place to be.
Then I’ve met people who exude honest warmth and caring. It emanates from their pores. You can just feel it. When they walk into a room, just their presence makes everything better. That’s a gift. You have to born with that kind of nurturing spirit.
Yesterday, I went to get a present for my sweetie and the saleswoman reminded me of my mother. She looked like my mom when she was in her thirties. She walked like my mom. It was kind of eerie. Her accent was different, though. It wasn’t Polish. It was Arabic. And when I asked her where she was from, she said Jerusalem. She gave me a knowing look. And then she said, “You’re from there, too, aren’t you?” I have a vague accent, but it isn’t from the Middle East. But I knew what she meant. I look Israeli. I said, “I’ve lived there, yes.”
We talked about Jerusalem. It’s a beautiful city. When I was there, I would walk the streets and I could feel just how special a place it is. Back then there were no suicide bombers. There were no Israeli settlements in the West Bank. Then war broke out and the place has never been the same.
We talked about what a mess Israel is now. She said that she wanted to move back, but her children, born in the US, hated it. I understood. Israel is a place I could live again, but I can’t imagine my wife living there. And it’s so different – so much bleaker and harsher - now than it was when I was a kid that it likely would be a frustrating and depressing place to live.
She wanted peace, she said. Her details of what peace would entail would no doubt be different than mine. But it wasn’t a time to discuss that. I didn't want to talk politics, that's for sure. But I could feel her longing for a Jerusalem without war.
At heart, everyday people in Israel and Palestine want a safe place for the ones they love. I really believe that. And if we would simply let the desires of those everyday people govern policy – if we governed with our hearts – it just might be that peace in the Middle East would be attainable. I told her I wanted peace as well. And we left it at that.
Here’s wishing peace and love to everyone on this special day and more importantly beyond.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Grandpa, Why?
As I watched the Grammys a couple of days ago, a bunch of thoughts ran through my weird head. One of them was about the commercials. Like the Super Bowl, the Grammys are a magnet for ad campaigns. And what was unusual to my ears at any rate was the number of boomer songs – 60s and 70s classics – that were used in the ads. Licensing those songs costs a small fortune. But for some reason, advertisers have been laying down six to seven figures to use them.
There was one ad in particular that stuck out and not in a good way, a Target ad that used a cover of the Beatles' Hello Goodbye. The thrust of the ad was that Target has "good buys" and the Beatles have "Hello Goodbye." Get it? Sure. Clever? Um. No.
As the song Hello Goodbye was sung in the background by a female singer, images of Target-type items flashed on the screen. The low point was an image of red circle emblazoned boxer shorts blowing in the wind on a clothesline.
If I'm the writer of that song – which is a very funny song in a good way – I don't want it to be associated with "good buys." I don't want it to be associated with boxer shorts blowing in the breeze. I'm sure that Paul McCartney feels the same way. And if I'm Paul McCartney or the estate of John Lennon, I don't need the money anyway. So why oh why does this happen?
The answer is that while McCartney/Lennon own the writer's rights to the song, they don't own the publishing rights. They gave those up a long time ago. Michael Jackson and Sony now own them. Michael Jackson needs money bad. Sony is a greedy corporation that will sell just about anything to anyone. The end result is that covers of Beatles songs appear in ridiculous places.
In selling songs, I am loath to give up any publishing rights. But the flip side of that is that just about anybody who has an interest in your song wants a piece of the publishing pie. All I can do is try to keep my share at 51% or greater. That way, sometime in the future when some company wants to use a song in a scene where boxer shorts fly in the wind I can say, "thanks but no thanks."
Some songs have a long shelf life. Last year, I ran into Hoagy Carmichael's daughter-in-law, a very sweet older lady. She wears very classy clothes. She is as happy as a clam. And in her purse, she always carries the contract to a song that Hoagy Carmichael wrote that you've all heard of, Georgia on My Mind. That song is over 70 years old. And every three months Hoagy Carmichael's daughter-in-law gets a big fat check from ASCAP because that song is still played. She and her heirs will likely be getting fat checks from ASCAP plus fat checks for licensing for another 50 years.
We should all have the luck and talent to write a classic like Georgia on My Mind. But it's more than about money. It's about a legacy. My own little nightmare is that one day when I'm old and gray I'll be watching TV with a little grandkid and an ad will come on that uses a song of mine in a demeaning setting, like a hemorrhoid commercial for instance. And my sweet little innocent grandkid will turn to me with those big eyes and say, "Grandpa, why did you give up your publishing?" Who knows? That very scene might have already taken place between Sir Paul McCartney and a grandkid of his. I don't want it to happen to me. Note to Michael Jackson: you'll never get a dime of my publishing.
As I watched the Grammys a couple of days ago, a bunch of thoughts ran through my weird head. One of them was about the commercials. Like the Super Bowl, the Grammys are a magnet for ad campaigns. And what was unusual to my ears at any rate was the number of boomer songs – 60s and 70s classics – that were used in the ads. Licensing those songs costs a small fortune. But for some reason, advertisers have been laying down six to seven figures to use them.
There was one ad in particular that stuck out and not in a good way, a Target ad that used a cover of the Beatles' Hello Goodbye. The thrust of the ad was that Target has "good buys" and the Beatles have "Hello Goodbye." Get it? Sure. Clever? Um. No.
As the song Hello Goodbye was sung in the background by a female singer, images of Target-type items flashed on the screen. The low point was an image of red circle emblazoned boxer shorts blowing in the wind on a clothesline.
If I'm the writer of that song – which is a very funny song in a good way – I don't want it to be associated with "good buys." I don't want it to be associated with boxer shorts blowing in the breeze. I'm sure that Paul McCartney feels the same way. And if I'm Paul McCartney or the estate of John Lennon, I don't need the money anyway. So why oh why does this happen?
The answer is that while McCartney/Lennon own the writer's rights to the song, they don't own the publishing rights. They gave those up a long time ago. Michael Jackson and Sony now own them. Michael Jackson needs money bad. Sony is a greedy corporation that will sell just about anything to anyone. The end result is that covers of Beatles songs appear in ridiculous places.
In selling songs, I am loath to give up any publishing rights. But the flip side of that is that just about anybody who has an interest in your song wants a piece of the publishing pie. All I can do is try to keep my share at 51% or greater. That way, sometime in the future when some company wants to use a song in a scene where boxer shorts fly in the wind I can say, "thanks but no thanks."
Some songs have a long shelf life. Last year, I ran into Hoagy Carmichael's daughter-in-law, a very sweet older lady. She wears very classy clothes. She is as happy as a clam. And in her purse, she always carries the contract to a song that Hoagy Carmichael wrote that you've all heard of, Georgia on My Mind. That song is over 70 years old. And every three months Hoagy Carmichael's daughter-in-law gets a big fat check from ASCAP because that song is still played. She and her heirs will likely be getting fat checks from ASCAP plus fat checks for licensing for another 50 years.
We should all have the luck and talent to write a classic like Georgia on My Mind. But it's more than about money. It's about a legacy. My own little nightmare is that one day when I'm old and gray I'll be watching TV with a little grandkid and an ad will come on that uses a song of mine in a demeaning setting, like a hemorrhoid commercial for instance. And my sweet little innocent grandkid will turn to me with those big eyes and say, "Grandpa, why did you give up your publishing?" Who knows? That very scene might have already taken place between Sir Paul McCartney and a grandkid of his. I don't want it to happen to me. Note to Michael Jackson: you'll never get a dime of my publishing.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Who Can Predict?
There were three of us, all with a passion for music. One was going to be a rock star. He'd talk on and on about Bob Dylan and play tapes from concerts. Another was going to be a jazz king; he'd go down to Chicago and play with the big boys on weekends who told him that he definitely had what it took. Another was going to sing at The Met and La Scala; he'd won state-wide competitions. We'd sit around the back of the high school and smoke dope, sporadically attending class. It's like we were doing time; we couldn't wait to get out.
What happened to those three anyway?
The rock star went on to play with Tom Petty for twenty years and was inducted in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Tragically, he fell in love with a celebrity who was also a heroin addict; he became a user and died a few years ago from an overdose. The jazz king went on to play with everyone imaginable - there are some great recordings with him and Phil Woods - and last night won a Grammy for Latin Jazz. Last I checked Milwaukee was a long way from anywhere near Latin America, but when you have talent you can do just about anything.
The opera aspirer went to audition for a part in college and happened to hear the person before him sing a few notes. He was in awe. He felt that no matter how hard he tried, he could never get that good. He never went to another audition. He went on to get a Ph.D. in geophysics and became a professor. He thought he'd left music behind, but it was in his blood. He writes 50-100 songs a year - anything from jazz to country to rock - and collects more songs from other writers to pitch in LA and Nashville.
Usually, high school dreams are just that. Dreams. In a lot of fictional stories, people fail, marry badly, and lead bitter disillusioned lives. It's like high school was the high point. I don't get stories like that. It doesn't jibe with my experience. Ever since high school, life has been pretty good to fantastic. And for three people with a lot of dreams who sat around and smoked dope, most of our dreams have been met. No, I never sang at The Met or La Scala. But I had a lot of "unrealistic ideas" about what I could do that turned out to be quite realistic in the end.
Oh there was a fourth person who I barely saw. She was in school for less than a year. Very shy. Very fat. There were maybe six black kids in the whole school. She was one of them. Years later my mother asked me if I remembered her. I asked why. "Because that was Oprah Winfrey." Who knew what her dreams were back then?
There were three of us, all with a passion for music. One was going to be a rock star. He'd talk on and on about Bob Dylan and play tapes from concerts. Another was going to be a jazz king; he'd go down to Chicago and play with the big boys on weekends who told him that he definitely had what it took. Another was going to sing at The Met and La Scala; he'd won state-wide competitions. We'd sit around the back of the high school and smoke dope, sporadically attending class. It's like we were doing time; we couldn't wait to get out.
What happened to those three anyway?
The rock star went on to play with Tom Petty for twenty years and was inducted in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Tragically, he fell in love with a celebrity who was also a heroin addict; he became a user and died a few years ago from an overdose. The jazz king went on to play with everyone imaginable - there are some great recordings with him and Phil Woods - and last night won a Grammy for Latin Jazz. Last I checked Milwaukee was a long way from anywhere near Latin America, but when you have talent you can do just about anything.
The opera aspirer went to audition for a part in college and happened to hear the person before him sing a few notes. He was in awe. He felt that no matter how hard he tried, he could never get that good. He never went to another audition. He went on to get a Ph.D. in geophysics and became a professor. He thought he'd left music behind, but it was in his blood. He writes 50-100 songs a year - anything from jazz to country to rock - and collects more songs from other writers to pitch in LA and Nashville.
Usually, high school dreams are just that. Dreams. In a lot of fictional stories, people fail, marry badly, and lead bitter disillusioned lives. It's like high school was the high point. I don't get stories like that. It doesn't jibe with my experience. Ever since high school, life has been pretty good to fantastic. And for three people with a lot of dreams who sat around and smoked dope, most of our dreams have been met. No, I never sang at The Met or La Scala. But I had a lot of "unrealistic ideas" about what I could do that turned out to be quite realistic in the end.
Oh there was a fourth person who I barely saw. She was in school for less than a year. Very shy. Very fat. There were maybe six black kids in the whole school. She was one of them. Years later my mother asked me if I remembered her. I asked why. "Because that was Oprah Winfrey." Who knew what her dreams were back then?
Sunday, February 11, 2007
If It's Popular...
When I was six, I went to a special screening of a Beatles movie. It came with custom yellow tickets with pictures of the Fab Four (I wish I had those tickets now; they'd be worth a ton of money). I was excited. Then I went.
Every girl was screaming. You couldn't hear a thing. You could barely see the screen because of the girls jumping in what would now be called the mosh pit. I learned then and there a fundamental guiding principle in my life. If something is ridiculously popular, it's probably not worth going to.
I avoid crowds. When I hear that something has big buzz and everybody is watching it or doing it or reading it, I immediately turn the opposite way. Call me a contrarian. Call me a snob. I don't care. If it's popular, I don't want any part of it.
Most things in life that have massive popularity are by design cheesy. There are exceptions, sure. The Beatles weren't cheesy. The Bible isn't cheesy although some parts are exceedingly boring. I'm willing to admit lots of exceptions. But the percentages are with me on this issue.
For example, let's look at food. Every day I pass by an Olive Garden restaurant on my way home from work. It's always packed. Have you ever eaten at an Olive Garden? It's dreadful. What's the most popular restaurant in America? McDonalds. Why would anyone eat the junk at McDonalds?
It isn't just cheap eats. Once I waited three months to get in the hottest four-star restaurant in SF because I wanted to be good to my in-laws. We ate. Eh. The only thing that caused my pulse to race was the bill.
If it's popular, it probably isn't very good.
And what's true in food is undoubtedly true in music. I note that the Grammys are going to be on tonight. I'll watch because music is my business. Every once in a while, they'll put the camera on someone I know and it's always fun to send them an email the next day telling them that they got 3 seconds of fame. But the Grammys aren't about good music. They are about popular music.
For instance, one of the likely Grammy winners this year will be Justin Timberlake. His big hit this year was the following song sung to an inane beat:
I'm bringin' sexy back
Them other boys they don't know how to act
I think it's special... what's behind your back
So turn around and and I'll pick up the slack
Note to Justin: sexy never left. I admit Mr. Timberlake is a very cute boy. He's probably a decent entertainer. But his songs are to music what McDonalds is to food.
That said, an old friend of mine is up for a Grammy in jazz and the boyfriend of a friend of the family is up for two. I'll be rooting for them big time.
When I was six, I went to a special screening of a Beatles movie. It came with custom yellow tickets with pictures of the Fab Four (I wish I had those tickets now; they'd be worth a ton of money). I was excited. Then I went.
Every girl was screaming. You couldn't hear a thing. You could barely see the screen because of the girls jumping in what would now be called the mosh pit. I learned then and there a fundamental guiding principle in my life. If something is ridiculously popular, it's probably not worth going to.
I avoid crowds. When I hear that something has big buzz and everybody is watching it or doing it or reading it, I immediately turn the opposite way. Call me a contrarian. Call me a snob. I don't care. If it's popular, I don't want any part of it.
Most things in life that have massive popularity are by design cheesy. There are exceptions, sure. The Beatles weren't cheesy. The Bible isn't cheesy although some parts are exceedingly boring. I'm willing to admit lots of exceptions. But the percentages are with me on this issue.
For example, let's look at food. Every day I pass by an Olive Garden restaurant on my way home from work. It's always packed. Have you ever eaten at an Olive Garden? It's dreadful. What's the most popular restaurant in America? McDonalds. Why would anyone eat the junk at McDonalds?
It isn't just cheap eats. Once I waited three months to get in the hottest four-star restaurant in SF because I wanted to be good to my in-laws. We ate. Eh. The only thing that caused my pulse to race was the bill.
If it's popular, it probably isn't very good.
And what's true in food is undoubtedly true in music. I note that the Grammys are going to be on tonight. I'll watch because music is my business. Every once in a while, they'll put the camera on someone I know and it's always fun to send them an email the next day telling them that they got 3 seconds of fame. But the Grammys aren't about good music. They are about popular music.
For instance, one of the likely Grammy winners this year will be Justin Timberlake. His big hit this year was the following song sung to an inane beat:
I'm bringin' sexy back
Them other boys they don't know how to act
I think it's special... what's behind your back
So turn around and and I'll pick up the slack
Note to Justin: sexy never left. I admit Mr. Timberlake is a very cute boy. He's probably a decent entertainer. But his songs are to music what McDonalds is to food.
That said, an old friend of mine is up for a Grammy in jazz and the boyfriend of a friend of the family is up for two. I'll be rooting for them big time.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Cheap Movie Update
A little while back I wrote about a good movie made for a mere $250,000, Quinceanera, and made some statements that Hollywood spends money like water simply because it makes them feel good. But there was always the "special effects" loophole. Special effects cost big bucks. You can't possibly make a good movie on the cheap if you want to create fantastical worlds, right? Um. No. Last night, I saw a delightful movie laden with special effects, Pan's Labyrinth. Total budget: 18 million. Yes, that's a lot more than $250,000, but it's lots less than your typical Hollywood affair.
As a rule, I don't go to music concerts if the venue holds more than 1000 people. My feeling is that if someone is more popular than that they are probably a cheesy act designed for mass appeal. With some exceptions, real music is played in real clubs. Similarly, I don't read books if they make the NY Times bestsellers list. I've tried to read a few; they are always disappointing, lightweight things. I think I'm going to apply a similar kind of rule to movies; if they cost more than 50 million to make they are probably junk, the stuff of some egomaniacal Hollywood producer who spends money like water. Lots of wonderful movies are made for less than that. And if I don't see Spiderman 3, Superman 6, etc. because of that rule, you think I'm going to really be missing out?
A little while back I wrote about a good movie made for a mere $250,000, Quinceanera, and made some statements that Hollywood spends money like water simply because it makes them feel good. But there was always the "special effects" loophole. Special effects cost big bucks. You can't possibly make a good movie on the cheap if you want to create fantastical worlds, right? Um. No. Last night, I saw a delightful movie laden with special effects, Pan's Labyrinth. Total budget: 18 million. Yes, that's a lot more than $250,000, but it's lots less than your typical Hollywood affair.
As a rule, I don't go to music concerts if the venue holds more than 1000 people. My feeling is that if someone is more popular than that they are probably a cheesy act designed for mass appeal. With some exceptions, real music is played in real clubs. Similarly, I don't read books if they make the NY Times bestsellers list. I've tried to read a few; they are always disappointing, lightweight things. I think I'm going to apply a similar kind of rule to movies; if they cost more than 50 million to make they are probably junk, the stuff of some egomaniacal Hollywood producer who spends money like water. Lots of wonderful movies are made for less than that. And if I don't see Spiderman 3, Superman 6, etc. because of that rule, you think I'm going to really be missing out?
Friday, February 09, 2007
On University Committees
Universities have a curious governmental structure. For the most part, they are top-down organizations. Faculty members stick to teaching and research. They are not involved in any substantive decision making. Yet, for some reason, there is a wish to have it appear that they are “deciders.” So ceremonial bodies are created, councils of faculty, without any power. And committees are formed to advise. But the advice is almost always ignored.
These councils and committees do have a somewhat obtuse purpose. Those that aspire to become part of university leadership almost always must participate in them. It’s kind of like a training bra. While these organized groups have no real reason for being, it’s a modern right of passage to participate on councils and committees. You get to know the powers that be. If they take a shine to you, you have a chance of entering the halls of university administration.
Most faculty members have no wish to become university administrators. Why would they? You push around paper and money. You go to endless meetings. There is no intellectual life. You’re surrounded by a lot of dead-enders in low-level administrative posts who gave up research and teaching because they weren’t particularly good at it. It sounds like a dreadful job to most faculty members.
So since they don’t serve any real purpose and the only reason you’d want to participate is as a stepping-stone to an administrative career, it’s not surprising that many faculty members don’t want to participate on committees and councils. It’s a waste of time. They have better things to do. So they say no.
The problem with this is that university leaders want to maintain appearances of faculty involvement. So they lament the lack of participation on the part of professors. They call them “irresponsible.” They say they are “abrogating their responsibility.” Nope. They’re just being smart.
Things can get farcical. At the University of Notre Dame, the faculty tried to simply close up shop of their academic council several years ago. Since it had no purpose, why bother? Last I heard, they were told they could not do so. There was something in the charter of the school that demanded a council of faculty be present. No, it didn’t have any power. Yes, it was a waste of time. But it had to be there.
At Duke, a former arts and sciences academic council was so meaningless and anemic that it was simply allowed to die. A new one was created a few years later for unknown reasons.
For those of you who think I’m being much too glib, I will ramble more than a bit about my personal experiences in “faculty governance.” I served on two university committees. I briefly served on the university academic council. The time spent was not only a waste, but was also a mild form of psychological torture.
The first committee I served on was involved in approving changes in curriculum. I was a fairly new professor. I was naïve. I didn’t know we didn’t have any real purpose. So I took the job seriously. That was a mistake.
One of our first tasks was to look at the abuse of independent studies classes at Duke. It was a very strange experience. First off, we weren’t allowed to look at any data. I’m a scientist. How can I make any decisions without any data? How do I know independent study classes are being abused if I can’t see the numbers? We were told the numbers were confidential. I wanted specifics. When pressed, we were told that one faculty member was teaching 30 independent study students in a semester. So was this just an abuse of one? No there were others. What others? We weren’t allowed privy to such information.
OK. We were being told that independent studies classes were being abused. The skinny that no one would say, but hinted at, is that most of those abuses take place with athletes. Basically, there are some unethical professors out there who are ardent supporters of athletics.
Many athletes do not have the time or academic talent to compete with other students. If they were to take a full load of regular classes, they would do poorly. So they find a “jock sniffer” faculty member to take an independent study class or two with. They do little work. They get a decent grade. They remain academically eligible.
This process is not unique to Duke. The New York Times had an expose about a jock sniffing faculty member at Auburn last year. It’s undoubtedly a common problem across the country.
Back to the issue at hand. Independent study classes were being abused. What should be done? Our committee came up with a recommendation to limit independent study classes to one per semester. That wouldn’t eliminate abuse but would be an improvement. The result of our recommendation was a big nothing. No changes were made. Why we were even asked to look at this problem was a mystery to me.
Our committee marched on. We were asked to examine a new major. We thought the idea for the major was a good one. But the actual proposal was to put it mildly a piece of junk. It was poorly thought out. The document made no sense. We bounced it. This was the one bit of power we had and we decided to use it.
The next meeting the proposal came back unchanged. We were told that the powers that be didn’t agree with our decision. In particular, they needed this major ASAP. They were trying to hire some hot-shot senior faculty member and wanted to have this major in the books. The committee chair gave us a knowing look. He asked, “What do you want to do, boys?” We looked at each other. We approved the major warts and all.
At the end of the year I was called by an associate dean and complimented on the great job I did on the committee. They would like me to serve again next year. My answer was blunt. The committee was a waste of time. The associate dean was affronted and protested that it wasn’t a waste of time. I said we had a difference of opinion and told her thanks, but no thanks. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
But I did get fooled twice. After saying no to committee appointments for many years, I was asked to sub on a committee to look at a major overhaul of Duke’s undergraduate curriculum. The committee was composed of science faculty. We looked at the overhaul. It was a mess. In particular, students who were science majors were going to have a very hard time fulfilling the requirements of the new curriculum and still take the science courses they needed for graduate school.
The creator of the new curriculum, hearing of our bleak news, came to a committee meeting. He admitted that the curriculum overhaul was not well thought out. But he said that whatever mistakes there were would be ironed out eventually. In other words, we were being asked to endorse something that we all knew was lousy.
Our committee closed up shop. Or rather, we were told that we were done. Don't like what a committee is doing? Shut it down. The chair of the committee, a former dean, sent a summary email to the powers that be that the committee “enthusiastically endorsed” the curriculum overhaul. I looked at the email. I sent an email back to the chair asking him if he had attended the same meetings I did because no endorsement was made of any kind. He said that that was how he remembered it. He had a strange memory.
The end result was that the new curriculum was approved and was a disaster. As predicted, science students had a very difficult time with it. Summer school enrollments spiked mostly because science students needed extra classes beyond the normal 34 to graduate. So much for the value of faculty governance. The creator of the curriculum was "promoted" into a position in administration; yes, universities do reward incompetence.
I never served on another university committee. By some cruel twist of fate, however, I was elected to the Academic Council.* I attended one meeting. We were asked to look at a new university plan for expansion and design of the campus. The plan was a major change. Essentially, we were being asked to rubber stamp a document without any input from the faculty, the very people who would have to live with this redesign year after year. I asked a couple of questions. A dean and an executive vice-president shot me angry looks. The plan was approved. I know when I’m being told to twiddle my thumbs.
I resigned from the Academic Council two weeks later.
Are faculty members “abrogating their responsibility” by not serving on committees and councils? You’ve got to be kidding. It’s more than a waste of time. It’s demeaning. It's the academic equivalent of being a cabana boy. Why would anyone volunteer to do such a thing?
*My election was my own damn fault. Every year, you're asked if you want your name taken off the ballot for Academic Council; I'd send back some lame excuse year after year why I couldn't serve. But the year I was elected, I was out of town a lot dealing with closing down the family business after my mom died and I missed the deadline to get my name withdrawn. It was the equivalent of not stepping backward when they say, "volunteers take one step forward."
Universities have a curious governmental structure. For the most part, they are top-down organizations. Faculty members stick to teaching and research. They are not involved in any substantive decision making. Yet, for some reason, there is a wish to have it appear that they are “deciders.” So ceremonial bodies are created, councils of faculty, without any power. And committees are formed to advise. But the advice is almost always ignored.
These councils and committees do have a somewhat obtuse purpose. Those that aspire to become part of university leadership almost always must participate in them. It’s kind of like a training bra. While these organized groups have no real reason for being, it’s a modern right of passage to participate on councils and committees. You get to know the powers that be. If they take a shine to you, you have a chance of entering the halls of university administration.
Most faculty members have no wish to become university administrators. Why would they? You push around paper and money. You go to endless meetings. There is no intellectual life. You’re surrounded by a lot of dead-enders in low-level administrative posts who gave up research and teaching because they weren’t particularly good at it. It sounds like a dreadful job to most faculty members.
So since they don’t serve any real purpose and the only reason you’d want to participate is as a stepping-stone to an administrative career, it’s not surprising that many faculty members don’t want to participate on committees and councils. It’s a waste of time. They have better things to do. So they say no.
The problem with this is that university leaders want to maintain appearances of faculty involvement. So they lament the lack of participation on the part of professors. They call them “irresponsible.” They say they are “abrogating their responsibility.” Nope. They’re just being smart.
Things can get farcical. At the University of Notre Dame, the faculty tried to simply close up shop of their academic council several years ago. Since it had no purpose, why bother? Last I heard, they were told they could not do so. There was something in the charter of the school that demanded a council of faculty be present. No, it didn’t have any power. Yes, it was a waste of time. But it had to be there.
At Duke, a former arts and sciences academic council was so meaningless and anemic that it was simply allowed to die. A new one was created a few years later for unknown reasons.
For those of you who think I’m being much too glib, I will ramble more than a bit about my personal experiences in “faculty governance.” I served on two university committees. I briefly served on the university academic council. The time spent was not only a waste, but was also a mild form of psychological torture.
The first committee I served on was involved in approving changes in curriculum. I was a fairly new professor. I was naïve. I didn’t know we didn’t have any real purpose. So I took the job seriously. That was a mistake.
One of our first tasks was to look at the abuse of independent studies classes at Duke. It was a very strange experience. First off, we weren’t allowed to look at any data. I’m a scientist. How can I make any decisions without any data? How do I know independent study classes are being abused if I can’t see the numbers? We were told the numbers were confidential. I wanted specifics. When pressed, we were told that one faculty member was teaching 30 independent study students in a semester. So was this just an abuse of one? No there were others. What others? We weren’t allowed privy to such information.
OK. We were being told that independent studies classes were being abused. The skinny that no one would say, but hinted at, is that most of those abuses take place with athletes. Basically, there are some unethical professors out there who are ardent supporters of athletics.
Many athletes do not have the time or academic talent to compete with other students. If they were to take a full load of regular classes, they would do poorly. So they find a “jock sniffer” faculty member to take an independent study class or two with. They do little work. They get a decent grade. They remain academically eligible.
This process is not unique to Duke. The New York Times had an expose about a jock sniffing faculty member at Auburn last year. It’s undoubtedly a common problem across the country.
Back to the issue at hand. Independent study classes were being abused. What should be done? Our committee came up with a recommendation to limit independent study classes to one per semester. That wouldn’t eliminate abuse but would be an improvement. The result of our recommendation was a big nothing. No changes were made. Why we were even asked to look at this problem was a mystery to me.
Our committee marched on. We were asked to examine a new major. We thought the idea for the major was a good one. But the actual proposal was to put it mildly a piece of junk. It was poorly thought out. The document made no sense. We bounced it. This was the one bit of power we had and we decided to use it.
The next meeting the proposal came back unchanged. We were told that the powers that be didn’t agree with our decision. In particular, they needed this major ASAP. They were trying to hire some hot-shot senior faculty member and wanted to have this major in the books. The committee chair gave us a knowing look. He asked, “What do you want to do, boys?” We looked at each other. We approved the major warts and all.
At the end of the year I was called by an associate dean and complimented on the great job I did on the committee. They would like me to serve again next year. My answer was blunt. The committee was a waste of time. The associate dean was affronted and protested that it wasn’t a waste of time. I said we had a difference of opinion and told her thanks, but no thanks. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
But I did get fooled twice. After saying no to committee appointments for many years, I was asked to sub on a committee to look at a major overhaul of Duke’s undergraduate curriculum. The committee was composed of science faculty. We looked at the overhaul. It was a mess. In particular, students who were science majors were going to have a very hard time fulfilling the requirements of the new curriculum and still take the science courses they needed for graduate school.
The creator of the new curriculum, hearing of our bleak news, came to a committee meeting. He admitted that the curriculum overhaul was not well thought out. But he said that whatever mistakes there were would be ironed out eventually. In other words, we were being asked to endorse something that we all knew was lousy.
Our committee closed up shop. Or rather, we were told that we were done. Don't like what a committee is doing? Shut it down. The chair of the committee, a former dean, sent a summary email to the powers that be that the committee “enthusiastically endorsed” the curriculum overhaul. I looked at the email. I sent an email back to the chair asking him if he had attended the same meetings I did because no endorsement was made of any kind. He said that that was how he remembered it. He had a strange memory.
The end result was that the new curriculum was approved and was a disaster. As predicted, science students had a very difficult time with it. Summer school enrollments spiked mostly because science students needed extra classes beyond the normal 34 to graduate. So much for the value of faculty governance. The creator of the curriculum was "promoted" into a position in administration; yes, universities do reward incompetence.
I never served on another university committee. By some cruel twist of fate, however, I was elected to the Academic Council.* I attended one meeting. We were asked to look at a new university plan for expansion and design of the campus. The plan was a major change. Essentially, we were being asked to rubber stamp a document without any input from the faculty, the very people who would have to live with this redesign year after year. I asked a couple of questions. A dean and an executive vice-president shot me angry looks. The plan was approved. I know when I’m being told to twiddle my thumbs.
I resigned from the Academic Council two weeks later.
Are faculty members “abrogating their responsibility” by not serving on committees and councils? You’ve got to be kidding. It’s more than a waste of time. It’s demeaning. It's the academic equivalent of being a cabana boy. Why would anyone volunteer to do such a thing?
*My election was my own damn fault. Every year, you're asked if you want your name taken off the ballot for Academic Council; I'd send back some lame excuse year after year why I couldn't serve. But the year I was elected, I was out of town a lot dealing with closing down the family business after my mom died and I missed the deadline to get my name withdrawn. It was the equivalent of not stepping backward when they say, "volunteers take one step forward."
Thursday, February 08, 2007
The End of My Idolatry
I don't watch TV. It's not like I have anything against it. There are times when my tank is running low and I'd like nothing better than to sit in front of the tube (and yes, all we have is a tube, one 20" color TV that's 15 years old) and be entertained. But then I turn it on. And there's nothing there. I flip through the channels. Nothing. Granted we don't get cable, but I do the same thing in hotel rooms. Nothing. In my frequent trips to Nashville, I tend to stay at a house that has 500 channels of satellite TV. Still nothing. TV is a wasteland.
But there have been exceptions. First off, I do watch an occasional popular TV show, but it's not for the entertainment value. I'm listening to the music in the background. I don't even pay attention to the plot. I just want to know something about the taste of the music supervisor of the show so I can pitch them something appropriate. Try it sometime. Just listen to the sound. Don't look at the screen. Focus on the music, not the words. It's a whole different experience. Usually the music is a lot better than what you hear on the radio.
And then there was my weekly addiction to American Idol that lasted for two years. Yes the show was dumb, but I liked the wholesomeness of it. Everyone was trying so hard to please. There was considerable talent on display. And then there were the judges, a goofy mish-mash of the ear (Jackson), the heart (Abdul), and the brain (Cowell). Put them all together and you'd have a decent human being. It was like the Wizard of Oz without Dorothy and Toto.
But this year, there is no Idol for me. After two years, enough is enough. And when I think about it, the reason I don't watch anymore is simple: the music is dreadful.
I love the contestants. I like the judges. I like the format. But there is no way I can bear to hear someone sing You Are So Beautiful again. And there is no way I can watch these young folks being coached by the likes of Rod Stewart; that segment last year by the way, where Rod Stewart was coaching the finalists on how to sing standards, was the musical equivalent of child abuse.
In my business, 98% of the music I hear (and pitch) is awful. I live for that 2%, the stuff that brings a big smile to my face. I don't mind hearing that 98% for work. It comes with the territory. But to subject myself to bad music for my entertainment time just doesn't make sense. The TV is off my friends. It'll be off until the next World Series.
I don't watch TV. It's not like I have anything against it. There are times when my tank is running low and I'd like nothing better than to sit in front of the tube (and yes, all we have is a tube, one 20" color TV that's 15 years old) and be entertained. But then I turn it on. And there's nothing there. I flip through the channels. Nothing. Granted we don't get cable, but I do the same thing in hotel rooms. Nothing. In my frequent trips to Nashville, I tend to stay at a house that has 500 channels of satellite TV. Still nothing. TV is a wasteland.
But there have been exceptions. First off, I do watch an occasional popular TV show, but it's not for the entertainment value. I'm listening to the music in the background. I don't even pay attention to the plot. I just want to know something about the taste of the music supervisor of the show so I can pitch them something appropriate. Try it sometime. Just listen to the sound. Don't look at the screen. Focus on the music, not the words. It's a whole different experience. Usually the music is a lot better than what you hear on the radio.
And then there was my weekly addiction to American Idol that lasted for two years. Yes the show was dumb, but I liked the wholesomeness of it. Everyone was trying so hard to please. There was considerable talent on display. And then there were the judges, a goofy mish-mash of the ear (Jackson), the heart (Abdul), and the brain (Cowell). Put them all together and you'd have a decent human being. It was like the Wizard of Oz without Dorothy and Toto.
But this year, there is no Idol for me. After two years, enough is enough. And when I think about it, the reason I don't watch anymore is simple: the music is dreadful.
I love the contestants. I like the judges. I like the format. But there is no way I can bear to hear someone sing You Are So Beautiful again. And there is no way I can watch these young folks being coached by the likes of Rod Stewart; that segment last year by the way, where Rod Stewart was coaching the finalists on how to sing standards, was the musical equivalent of child abuse.
In my business, 98% of the music I hear (and pitch) is awful. I live for that 2%, the stuff that brings a big smile to my face. I don't mind hearing that 98% for work. It comes with the territory. But to subject myself to bad music for my entertainment time just doesn't make sense. The TV is off my friends. It'll be off until the next World Series.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Big Bucks
The other night I saw a very good movie, Quinceanera, about the coming of age of a Mexican-American girl. The total budget for the movie was $250,000, which comes out to less than thirty seconds of any of the Lord of The Rings movies. I liked those movies too. But I started to think about why - when someone can create a very touching movie for a relatively modest sum of money - we tend to spend so much.
And I think the answer is simply ego.
Movie studios spend money like water because it makes them feel important. When you look at most movies, the content is rather poor. The writing is kids stuff. The plot is kids stuff. We aren't talking about great ideas here. Batman Returns isn't exactly Shakespeare. And movie studios know that they are making mostly 4th grade fantasy material. They have to pump themselves up somehow and make themselves feel good. So they spend money like crazy. Money becomes a substitute for content.*
I read the Hollywood Reporter because it has info useful for Film/TV music placements. In that mag, the self-importance and egotism of Hollywood is present on every page. You'd think that the movie industry was making art that would stand as hallmarks of creative achievement for centuries. Um. No. They're just spending money providing entertainment. There's nothing wrong with that mind you. But very little of what Hollywood makes is art.
Then along come simply made movies that effectively tell a story like Quinceanera. Or Pi. Or Sideways. The casts have no big stars. They are shot over a period of a month. There are no special effects. They are movies with a good story and good acting. What more do you need anyhow?
*I saw this in universities too. It's why universities don't care about controlling costs and tuition. The high tuition they charge makes university leaders feel important. It becomes a perverse mark of distinction.
The other night I saw a very good movie, Quinceanera, about the coming of age of a Mexican-American girl. The total budget for the movie was $250,000, which comes out to less than thirty seconds of any of the Lord of The Rings movies. I liked those movies too. But I started to think about why - when someone can create a very touching movie for a relatively modest sum of money - we tend to spend so much.
And I think the answer is simply ego.
Movie studios spend money like water because it makes them feel important. When you look at most movies, the content is rather poor. The writing is kids stuff. The plot is kids stuff. We aren't talking about great ideas here. Batman Returns isn't exactly Shakespeare. And movie studios know that they are making mostly 4th grade fantasy material. They have to pump themselves up somehow and make themselves feel good. So they spend money like crazy. Money becomes a substitute for content.*
I read the Hollywood Reporter because it has info useful for Film/TV music placements. In that mag, the self-importance and egotism of Hollywood is present on every page. You'd think that the movie industry was making art that would stand as hallmarks of creative achievement for centuries. Um. No. They're just spending money providing entertainment. There's nothing wrong with that mind you. But very little of what Hollywood makes is art.
Then along come simply made movies that effectively tell a story like Quinceanera. Or Pi. Or Sideways. The casts have no big stars. They are shot over a period of a month. There are no special effects. They are movies with a good story and good acting. What more do you need anyhow?
*I saw this in universities too. It's why universities don't care about controlling costs and tuition. The high tuition they charge makes university leaders feel important. It becomes a perverse mark of distinction.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
I Think I’m Driving Japanese
Last week, I rented a car that although it was made this model year, felt like it was made in 1988. It was a Ford Taurus. Long ago, sometime around 1986, I actually test drove one. Back then the Ford Taurus was a very popular car. For a while, it was in fact the most popular model in America. But that was long, long ago.
The Taurus has changed so little since the 1980s that I expected to hear Duran Duran or Michael Jackson singing Beat It when I turned on the radio. And that’s the rub. While Ford has been making the same car for two decades, the Japanese keep making better and better cars. The Toyota Camry of today bears little resemblance to the Camry of the 1980s. About all it shares is a name.
It’s not surprising that today Toyota reported a quarterly record profit of 3.6 billion dollars. A couple of weeks ago, Ford announced a 2006 loss of 12.7 billion. The Japanese make better cars than we do. That’s been true for 30 years now. Even the Koreans are starting to make better cars than us. I, in fact, never have bought an American car. I haven’t even test driven one since I test drove that Taurus in 1986. Why should I? We make junk.
Much has been written about why American automakers cannot make good cars. Most of it comes from business writers and they dwell at length on the labor costs faced by GM, Ford and Chrysler. It’s true. Pensions and health care are eating up American automakers alive. The argument is that to make up for this labor differential, Americans have to use cheaper parts. I don’t know if American auto manufacturers do this; all I know is that the cars are junk.
But there are other reasons beyond labor costs. A key issue is efficiency. Japanese manufacturers produce their cars in 20% less time than do US manufacturers. And they are doing this with American workers on American soil. Forget labor costs. The Japanese are beating us at the game of making cars in every way, shape and form.
It isn’t just cars. We hardly make anything well anymore aside from movies and military hardware. I think the only thing that I bought last year that was made in the US was a peppermill that cost 20 bucks. I thought I bought an American microphone for some high-end audio work, but it turned out that it was made in Latvia. We can’t even compete against Latvia!
I’m going to go out on a flyer and come up with a reason that we cannot make consumer goods that has nothing to do with labor costs. It’s the fact that the driving force of our nation is the military. The numbers don’t lie. Bush’s proposed 2.7 trillion dollar budget of 2007 calls for 439 billion dollars in Pentagon spending and an additional 120 billion dollars for waging war in Iraq and Afghanistan. As Bush notes, we are a “nation at war” and "as Commander-in-Chief, my highest priority is the security of our nation.” Total up all military costs and you end up with a bill of over 730 billion dollars.
When such large shares of your intellectual and financial resources are oriented toward making military hardware and fighting wars, real or imagined, something has to give. We are simply too preoccupied with our military to make any consumer goods decently. In contrast, the Japanese (and even the Latvians) have little concern with military issues. They aren’t making bombs. They are making stuff, cute little things for consumers all around the world to buy. We do make great bombs, the best in the word, no doubt. But our military prowess comes at a cost and I will, no doubt, be buying Japanese cars for the foreseeable future.
Last week, I rented a car that although it was made this model year, felt like it was made in 1988. It was a Ford Taurus. Long ago, sometime around 1986, I actually test drove one. Back then the Ford Taurus was a very popular car. For a while, it was in fact the most popular model in America. But that was long, long ago.
The Taurus has changed so little since the 1980s that I expected to hear Duran Duran or Michael Jackson singing Beat It when I turned on the radio. And that’s the rub. While Ford has been making the same car for two decades, the Japanese keep making better and better cars. The Toyota Camry of today bears little resemblance to the Camry of the 1980s. About all it shares is a name.
It’s not surprising that today Toyota reported a quarterly record profit of 3.6 billion dollars. A couple of weeks ago, Ford announced a 2006 loss of 12.7 billion. The Japanese make better cars than we do. That’s been true for 30 years now. Even the Koreans are starting to make better cars than us. I, in fact, never have bought an American car. I haven’t even test driven one since I test drove that Taurus in 1986. Why should I? We make junk.
Much has been written about why American automakers cannot make good cars. Most of it comes from business writers and they dwell at length on the labor costs faced by GM, Ford and Chrysler. It’s true. Pensions and health care are eating up American automakers alive. The argument is that to make up for this labor differential, Americans have to use cheaper parts. I don’t know if American auto manufacturers do this; all I know is that the cars are junk.
But there are other reasons beyond labor costs. A key issue is efficiency. Japanese manufacturers produce their cars in 20% less time than do US manufacturers. And they are doing this with American workers on American soil. Forget labor costs. The Japanese are beating us at the game of making cars in every way, shape and form.
It isn’t just cars. We hardly make anything well anymore aside from movies and military hardware. I think the only thing that I bought last year that was made in the US was a peppermill that cost 20 bucks. I thought I bought an American microphone for some high-end audio work, but it turned out that it was made in Latvia. We can’t even compete against Latvia!
I’m going to go out on a flyer and come up with a reason that we cannot make consumer goods that has nothing to do with labor costs. It’s the fact that the driving force of our nation is the military. The numbers don’t lie. Bush’s proposed 2.7 trillion dollar budget of 2007 calls for 439 billion dollars in Pentagon spending and an additional 120 billion dollars for waging war in Iraq and Afghanistan. As Bush notes, we are a “nation at war” and "as Commander-in-Chief, my highest priority is the security of our nation.” Total up all military costs and you end up with a bill of over 730 billion dollars.
When such large shares of your intellectual and financial resources are oriented toward making military hardware and fighting wars, real or imagined, something has to give. We are simply too preoccupied with our military to make any consumer goods decently. In contrast, the Japanese (and even the Latvians) have little concern with military issues. They aren’t making bombs. They are making stuff, cute little things for consumers all around the world to buy. We do make great bombs, the best in the word, no doubt. But our military prowess comes at a cost and I will, no doubt, be buying Japanese cars for the foreseeable future.
Monday, February 05, 2007
My Final Duke Lacrosse Affair Post
Today is the last time I’m going to write about the Duke Lacrosse Affair. I’ve written plenty. Looking back, I stand behind just about everything I’ve written, but sure there have been clunker sentiments expressed along the way. That’s inevitable when you’re writing 500-1000 words in an hour. I’m surprised it looks relatively decent overall in hindsight.
This blog is an opinion diary for me. That other people read it is fine, but that’s not really my motivation for writing. Time for me to move on folks and write about other issues.
As far as I can tell the Duke Lacrosse affair is coming to a close. I’d bet the house that all charges will be dropped in the near future.
I’ll make some bald-faced predictions.
1) There will of course be lawsuits. Duke will settle for somewhere in the realm of eight figures to put this affair behind them. No apologies will be made.
2) Duke will drop slightly in next year’s US News rankings in 2007, probably down to somewhere around number 10. Students and alumni will make some statements that they are upset that their diplomas are worth less. They need to get a life.
3) The Campus Culture Initiative will come and go. There was an initiative on the topic of women at Duke a few years ago. It produced a very serious document that went on and on about how Duke women feel pressure to show “effortless perfection.” Shortly after, a couple of Duke women made national news for bikini wrestling in baby oil at a party. I guess that was their version of effortless perfection. Similarly, expect Duke to produce a very serious document about alcohol culture and the lack of respect shown for other cultures in a diverse environment. The words will be ignored. Ambulances will still carry alcohol poisoned Duke students to the hospital; black, white and Asian students will still rarely interact.
4) Although he is damaged goods because of his mishandling of the Duke affair, I’d say the odds of Brodhead being reappointed for another term are in the 60/40 range. To not reappoint him would be a tacit admission that Duke made mistakes. It’s unlikely that the Board of Trustees is willing to make such an admission, but I wouldn’t bet the house on it.
5) Duke will remain what it has been for the last couple of decades, a school that tends to attract the “almost very best” of students across the country. It will continue to attract the “almost very best” of faculty. On paper it will be a damn good, but not great school. Its undergraduate life will continue to be noted for its debauch hard/work light culture although there will still be plenty of students who work like hell to get a good education. Its undergraduate college will still be best noted for its loopy humanities faculty although there will still be plenty of professors who do interesting and valuable research.
Finally, I do note that yesterday about 120 people showed up for a march in support of the lacrosse players: 120 people including students. That was it. Three students have been put through hell by the criminal justice system of Durham, and a few tens of students show up in support. There are about 6400 undergraduate students at Duke. Almost all of them couldn’t manage the effort to support their own for a couple of hours on a late Sunday morning. Of those 6400 students maybe 400 would have stayed away because 11:00 AM is “church time.” Another one or two had their stomachs pumped in the hospital from alcohol poisoning the night before and as such couldn't make it even if they wanted to. That leaves 6000 students who could care less although they sure do whine about how “Durham sucks.” You get the Durham you deserve folks.
For me, writing about the Duke lacrosse affair has been a trip down memory lane. I spent about 15 years at Duke. It’s been valuable for me to personally think about that time while writing about the affair.
It was never a goal of mine to become a professor. It was something that just happened. I got a Ph.D. because I was intellectually curious not because I had a career goal in mind. And I never really fit into academic culture very well. It was too pompous for me, too snooty. I’m the child of working class immigrants. For most of my childhood, I grew up in a modest neighborhood of boxy small brick houses where husbands worked on assembly lines. Basically, I’m a working class kid with an intellectual bent who has little tolerance for pretentiousness and bullsh*t. I was very much a fish out of water in academia, especially the culture of a private school, and I’m very glad to have left it behind.
Today is the last time I’m going to write about the Duke Lacrosse Affair. I’ve written plenty. Looking back, I stand behind just about everything I’ve written, but sure there have been clunker sentiments expressed along the way. That’s inevitable when you’re writing 500-1000 words in an hour. I’m surprised it looks relatively decent overall in hindsight.
This blog is an opinion diary for me. That other people read it is fine, but that’s not really my motivation for writing. Time for me to move on folks and write about other issues.
As far as I can tell the Duke Lacrosse affair is coming to a close. I’d bet the house that all charges will be dropped in the near future.
I’ll make some bald-faced predictions.
1) There will of course be lawsuits. Duke will settle for somewhere in the realm of eight figures to put this affair behind them. No apologies will be made.
2) Duke will drop slightly in next year’s US News rankings in 2007, probably down to somewhere around number 10. Students and alumni will make some statements that they are upset that their diplomas are worth less. They need to get a life.
3) The Campus Culture Initiative will come and go. There was an initiative on the topic of women at Duke a few years ago. It produced a very serious document that went on and on about how Duke women feel pressure to show “effortless perfection.” Shortly after, a couple of Duke women made national news for bikini wrestling in baby oil at a party. I guess that was their version of effortless perfection. Similarly, expect Duke to produce a very serious document about alcohol culture and the lack of respect shown for other cultures in a diverse environment. The words will be ignored. Ambulances will still carry alcohol poisoned Duke students to the hospital; black, white and Asian students will still rarely interact.
4) Although he is damaged goods because of his mishandling of the Duke affair, I’d say the odds of Brodhead being reappointed for another term are in the 60/40 range. To not reappoint him would be a tacit admission that Duke made mistakes. It’s unlikely that the Board of Trustees is willing to make such an admission, but I wouldn’t bet the house on it.
5) Duke will remain what it has been for the last couple of decades, a school that tends to attract the “almost very best” of students across the country. It will continue to attract the “almost very best” of faculty. On paper it will be a damn good, but not great school. Its undergraduate life will continue to be noted for its debauch hard/work light culture although there will still be plenty of students who work like hell to get a good education. Its undergraduate college will still be best noted for its loopy humanities faculty although there will still be plenty of professors who do interesting and valuable research.
Finally, I do note that yesterday about 120 people showed up for a march in support of the lacrosse players: 120 people including students. That was it. Three students have been put through hell by the criminal justice system of Durham, and a few tens of students show up in support. There are about 6400 undergraduate students at Duke. Almost all of them couldn’t manage the effort to support their own for a couple of hours on a late Sunday morning. Of those 6400 students maybe 400 would have stayed away because 11:00 AM is “church time.” Another one or two had their stomachs pumped in the hospital from alcohol poisoning the night before and as such couldn't make it even if they wanted to. That leaves 6000 students who could care less although they sure do whine about how “Durham sucks.” You get the Durham you deserve folks.
For me, writing about the Duke lacrosse affair has been a trip down memory lane. I spent about 15 years at Duke. It’s been valuable for me to personally think about that time while writing about the affair.
It was never a goal of mine to become a professor. It was something that just happened. I got a Ph.D. because I was intellectually curious not because I had a career goal in mind. And I never really fit into academic culture very well. It was too pompous for me, too snooty. I’m the child of working class immigrants. For most of my childhood, I grew up in a modest neighborhood of boxy small brick houses where husbands worked on assembly lines. Basically, I’m a working class kid with an intellectual bent who has little tolerance for pretentiousness and bullsh*t. I was very much a fish out of water in academia, especially the culture of a private school, and I’m very glad to have left it behind.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Selling the University
“We know that logic alone does not sell automobiles, so its immediate appeal is emotional; sheer elegance and design finesse, the wish to feel its slender curves, to love that car, to be known as its discriminating owner.” Raymond Loewy
Raymond Loewy was the preeminent industrial designer of the 20th century. He did it all, from designing the shape of cars to trains to Coca Cola dispensers. His ability to create eye-catching designs was pure genius. For example, placing aerodynamic designs on jukeboxes and bottles seems at face value to be silly. Raymond Loewy knew better. He knew that those shapes were inherently romantic and sexual in nature. They had no function, but they had mass appeal. It’s no wonder that people flocked to buy the products he designed.
Raymond Loewy has a tie to Durham, NC, my one-time home. He designed the logo for Lucky Strike, the iconic red circle with a gold ring, a cigarette brand made by the American Tobacco Company founded by J.B. Duke in 1890.
The American Tobacco Company, a one-time giant in the cigarette industry, is no more. Lucky Strike is now a minor seller in the marketplace, its name bought by a one-time competitor of American Tobacco. The company’s headquarter offices in Durham were closed down in the 1990s.
Brands come and go in the marketplace. The public is fickle always looking for something new and exciting. If you create consumer products, it is inevitable that over the period of years to decades, your brand will start to dull in the eyes of the consumer and will be replaced by something newer and trendier. Sears. JC Penney. Montgomery Ward. Robert Hall. Zenith. These were major retailing brands of my childhood. They are all either in serious decline or simply gone.
I mention this because universities over the last twenty years have embraced a consumer-based model. When you do this you need to sell the brand. And sell they do.
Selling the brand means have you place your logo – usually your escutcheon – on curtains behind every television interview of your faculty members or administrators. It means you have prominent sports teams that proudly display a modern looking logo on their jerseys. It means you print hundreds of thousands of brochures yearly to promote the brand.
Providing a consumer an appealing product has its benefits. It means that it catches the eye of more people. It probably means in the short term, more donations and more applications.
But the flip side of such efforts is that when you move from a model where – like religion – you are selling something hallowed and more lofty than a consumer good to one where you are a product brand you’ve created a built-in mortality. The public will keep its gaze on you for only so long. Then they are off to something new.
Which leads me back to my favorite example of universities and consumerism, Duke. I’m not trying to pick on Duke by the way. It’s just the place I know best. Plus I’ve noticed that many of the readers of this blog have Duke connections.
On NPR the other day there was an interesting little bit on Duke alumni’s criticism of Richard Brodhead vis a vis the lacrosse affair. Brodhead refused to be interviewed for the NPR story because he was “resisting efforts to make Duke the story.” Good idea. There were two interesting comments from that show.
One was from an alumnus, Jason Trumpbour:
"You know if you're sending your kids to college, you want them to go to an environment where they'll be supported. When they screw up, you want them corrected, but at the same time you want them corrected in a fashion that takes into account their best interests. And that was really completely absent."
These lines express very concisely and articulately a consumer-based view of higher education. The other was from John Burness, a Duke administrator, trying to justify why Duke did not do anything to help the lacrosse players:
“Had Duke come out just four square behind the students that would have led to all kinds of allegations about Duke improperly using its weight to influence the judicial process.”
It’s an interesting comment because it runs counter to the consumer model that Duke and just about all universities and colleges have embraced over the last twenty years. If you are selling a consumer product, you need to keep the customer happy. If that means using your weight to influence the judicial process, you do it. It’s what the customer wants. You had better deliver.
When you live by the consumer, you die by the consumer. And the consumer is one fickle beast. Universities now live and die by what Raymond Loewy noted is the appeal of an automobile. Enrollment is driven by emotion. The student and parent want to be viewed as discriminating buyers.
In embracing a consumer model, you run the risk of having your brand lose luster. I’m going to make a bald-faced prediction about public perceptions of universities over the next 50 years. Unlike the previous 50 years where the public’s view of the best places for higher education in the US was more or less static, the next 50 years will see considerable jockeying for status. Some currently highly valued institutions just might go the way of Robert Hall, Studebaker, and the American Tobacco Company by the year 2100.
“We know that logic alone does not sell automobiles, so its immediate appeal is emotional; sheer elegance and design finesse, the wish to feel its slender curves, to love that car, to be known as its discriminating owner.” Raymond Loewy
Raymond Loewy was the preeminent industrial designer of the 20th century. He did it all, from designing the shape of cars to trains to Coca Cola dispensers. His ability to create eye-catching designs was pure genius. For example, placing aerodynamic designs on jukeboxes and bottles seems at face value to be silly. Raymond Loewy knew better. He knew that those shapes were inherently romantic and sexual in nature. They had no function, but they had mass appeal. It’s no wonder that people flocked to buy the products he designed.
Raymond Loewy has a tie to Durham, NC, my one-time home. He designed the logo for Lucky Strike, the iconic red circle with a gold ring, a cigarette brand made by the American Tobacco Company founded by J.B. Duke in 1890.
The American Tobacco Company, a one-time giant in the cigarette industry, is no more. Lucky Strike is now a minor seller in the marketplace, its name bought by a one-time competitor of American Tobacco. The company’s headquarter offices in Durham were closed down in the 1990s.
Brands come and go in the marketplace. The public is fickle always looking for something new and exciting. If you create consumer products, it is inevitable that over the period of years to decades, your brand will start to dull in the eyes of the consumer and will be replaced by something newer and trendier. Sears. JC Penney. Montgomery Ward. Robert Hall. Zenith. These were major retailing brands of my childhood. They are all either in serious decline or simply gone.
I mention this because universities over the last twenty years have embraced a consumer-based model. When you do this you need to sell the brand. And sell they do.
Selling the brand means have you place your logo – usually your escutcheon – on curtains behind every television interview of your faculty members or administrators. It means you have prominent sports teams that proudly display a modern looking logo on their jerseys. It means you print hundreds of thousands of brochures yearly to promote the brand.
Providing a consumer an appealing product has its benefits. It means that it catches the eye of more people. It probably means in the short term, more donations and more applications.
But the flip side of such efforts is that when you move from a model where – like religion – you are selling something hallowed and more lofty than a consumer good to one where you are a product brand you’ve created a built-in mortality. The public will keep its gaze on you for only so long. Then they are off to something new.
Which leads me back to my favorite example of universities and consumerism, Duke. I’m not trying to pick on Duke by the way. It’s just the place I know best. Plus I’ve noticed that many of the readers of this blog have Duke connections.
On NPR the other day there was an interesting little bit on Duke alumni’s criticism of Richard Brodhead vis a vis the lacrosse affair. Brodhead refused to be interviewed for the NPR story because he was “resisting efforts to make Duke the story.” Good idea. There were two interesting comments from that show.
One was from an alumnus, Jason Trumpbour:
"You know if you're sending your kids to college, you want them to go to an environment where they'll be supported. When they screw up, you want them corrected, but at the same time you want them corrected in a fashion that takes into account their best interests. And that was really completely absent."
These lines express very concisely and articulately a consumer-based view of higher education. The other was from John Burness, a Duke administrator, trying to justify why Duke did not do anything to help the lacrosse players:
“Had Duke come out just four square behind the students that would have led to all kinds of allegations about Duke improperly using its weight to influence the judicial process.”
It’s an interesting comment because it runs counter to the consumer model that Duke and just about all universities and colleges have embraced over the last twenty years. If you are selling a consumer product, you need to keep the customer happy. If that means using your weight to influence the judicial process, you do it. It’s what the customer wants. You had better deliver.
When you live by the consumer, you die by the consumer. And the consumer is one fickle beast. Universities now live and die by what Raymond Loewy noted is the appeal of an automobile. Enrollment is driven by emotion. The student and parent want to be viewed as discriminating buyers.
In embracing a consumer model, you run the risk of having your brand lose luster. I’m going to make a bald-faced prediction about public perceptions of universities over the next 50 years. Unlike the previous 50 years where the public’s view of the best places for higher education in the US was more or less static, the next 50 years will see considerable jockeying for status. Some currently highly valued institutions just might go the way of Robert Hall, Studebaker, and the American Tobacco Company by the year 2100.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
The Art of Protesting
Last week, I happened to be in DC during the time of the scheduled Iraq War demonstration. So like the lefty I am, I went out and marched for a couple of hours. The focus of the march was on getting out of Iraq now. I don’t agree with that strategy. But I do think that we should have never made war in Iraq – I was at those prewar protests too – and we need to find a way to get out that minimizes the bloodshed.
Getting out may take years to do. But somehow we have to admit that this is a war we cannot win. People have said that Iraq is Vietnam redux. I don’t think so. Vietnam was a country split in two that we wanted to remain split. This is much more like the Russians in Afghanistan. The Russians tried to impose their will upon a nation that really is a loose agglomeration of warlords. The Afghanis in the end buried the Russians and helped to bury the Russian empire in the process.
We’ve tried to do the same in Iraq, a country admittedly less messy than Afghanistan. It cannot work. We’ve spent probably close to a trillion dollars on this effort. We’ve lost thousands of lives. The Bush doctrine – the idea that we can impose our will anywhere in the world – has had its first test case in Iraq. It has failed. I would argue that the resources necessary for global domination are beyond the grasp of any country.
The argument has been made that we should have focused on Afghanistan instead. One reason I believe we didn’t do that is that we knew we would befall the same fate as the Russians. Iraq looked easier. Plus there was oil there. So we trumped up charges against Saddam and focused on Iraq. It has been an unmitigated disaster.
I marched not to support pulling out now, but to try to get our leadership to simply admit the obvious. This was a war with a ridiculous and unattainable goal – a united and democratic Iraq that would become an oil rich ally of the US – and we need to move on and figure out a way to get out of this mess as gracefully as possible.
Tens of thousands of people showed up on a beautiful, sunny day. I note that about an order of magnitude more people showed up at the anti-War demonstrations of a few years ago, but the protests were buried in the news. In contrast, this event was a front-page staple the following day. Someone said to me that the difference was the presence of Jane Fonda. Baloney.
Do events like this matter? Obviously, I think they do otherwise I wouldn’t participate. I believe that without the public protests during Vietnam, we would have escalated our war efforts. Those protests saved lives. It’s my hope that the Iraq war protest – admittedly much more modest – sends a signal to Washington that ultimately saves lives.
I don’t go out and protest often, but my guess is that since the Vietnam War ended, I’ve participated in about a dozen or so marches. You can vote. You can write letters. But every once in a while, a protest can be a very effective means to express an opinion.
Last week, I happened to be in DC during the time of the scheduled Iraq War demonstration. So like the lefty I am, I went out and marched for a couple of hours. The focus of the march was on getting out of Iraq now. I don’t agree with that strategy. But I do think that we should have never made war in Iraq – I was at those prewar protests too – and we need to find a way to get out that minimizes the bloodshed.
Getting out may take years to do. But somehow we have to admit that this is a war we cannot win. People have said that Iraq is Vietnam redux. I don’t think so. Vietnam was a country split in two that we wanted to remain split. This is much more like the Russians in Afghanistan. The Russians tried to impose their will upon a nation that really is a loose agglomeration of warlords. The Afghanis in the end buried the Russians and helped to bury the Russian empire in the process.
We’ve tried to do the same in Iraq, a country admittedly less messy than Afghanistan. It cannot work. We’ve spent probably close to a trillion dollars on this effort. We’ve lost thousands of lives. The Bush doctrine – the idea that we can impose our will anywhere in the world – has had its first test case in Iraq. It has failed. I would argue that the resources necessary for global domination are beyond the grasp of any country.
The argument has been made that we should have focused on Afghanistan instead. One reason I believe we didn’t do that is that we knew we would befall the same fate as the Russians. Iraq looked easier. Plus there was oil there. So we trumped up charges against Saddam and focused on Iraq. It has been an unmitigated disaster.
I marched not to support pulling out now, but to try to get our leadership to simply admit the obvious. This was a war with a ridiculous and unattainable goal – a united and democratic Iraq that would become an oil rich ally of the US – and we need to move on and figure out a way to get out of this mess as gracefully as possible.
Tens of thousands of people showed up on a beautiful, sunny day. I note that about an order of magnitude more people showed up at the anti-War demonstrations of a few years ago, but the protests were buried in the news. In contrast, this event was a front-page staple the following day. Someone said to me that the difference was the presence of Jane Fonda. Baloney.
Do events like this matter? Obviously, I think they do otherwise I wouldn’t participate. I believe that without the public protests during Vietnam, we would have escalated our war efforts. Those protests saved lives. It’s my hope that the Iraq war protest – admittedly much more modest – sends a signal to Washington that ultimately saves lives.
I don’t go out and protest often, but my guess is that since the Vietnam War ended, I’ve participated in about a dozen or so marches. You can vote. You can write letters. But every once in a while, a protest can be a very effective means to express an opinion.
Friday, February 02, 2007
When in the South
I note that in a couple of days, “Concerned Mothers,” plan a walk in support of the Duke lacrosse players, their families and their deposed coach. There’s nothing wrong with that - I’m all for public demonstrations - except for one thing: it’s planned for 11 AM on a Sunday. If you’ve lived in the South, you know that’s a big no-no. Sunday 11 AM is church time. You don’t mess around with church time for anything. If you organize an event for such a time, you are laying down the gauntlet. These “Concerned Mothers” are probably being viewed in some quarters as “G-d Hating Yankee Bitches” (not my view mind you).
So it goes with the Lacrosse affair. While everyone waits for the inevitable and welcome dropping of charges, the sideshows related to the affair have turned into a mixture of farce and more bad behavior. Since Nifong left the stage, angry white males and females have been left without a good punching bag to vent their frustrations about how miserable it is to be white and conservative. So they’ve returned their focus to 88 faculty members and have yet again villainized them. Fox News, the Wall Street Journal and other right wing pubs have been more than willing to serve as fulminators and engage in demagoguery.
Yes, 88 faculty members signed a statement that callously used a tragic event to try and promote a political agenda. And now you have a bunch of equally pompous fools callously using a tragic event to reopen the culture wars. A pox on both of their houses. Three people are still being charged with felonies. Who with any heart on either side of the political spectrum would want to fulminate over a side issue and continue to use the lives of three people for political advantage?
At face value, it is ironic that the Lacrosse affair has shown some of the worst public behavior imaginable, yet it has taken place in a region of the country where manners are the most valued. But a lot of that is due to the fact that Duke is not really a Southern institution. Most of its students come from the North. Its faculty members come from the North. Its leadership comes from the North. It’s a little Northern island and many of its students and faculty are dismissive of the South. Duke lives according to Northern rules; manners and civil behavior just aren’t that important.
As with all generalities, there are hiccups and the hiccup in this discussion comes from Southern bred and educated DA Mike Nifong. Disregarding his legal ineptitude and probable ethical lapses, the way he has carried himself throughout this affair would, I’m sure, put any mother from the South to shame. I note that the last nationally prominent case in Durham was the Peterson murder trail of a few years ago. The DA in charge of that case didn’t say much of anything until the trial began. He just went about his business. And then he put Peterson behind bars for a long, long time. That’s how you should prosecute a case in the South if and when you have evidence*. As a matter of fact, that’s how you should prosecute a case anywhere.
As for the “Concerned Mothers,” I wish them well. But those Yankee ladies better push their protest time forward a couple of hours. First there’s church. Then there’s casserole. Then you can go off and do whatever good deeds you wish. When in Rome…**
*On the other hand, the prosecuting attorney was allowed to throw the kitchen sink at Peterson during the trial; he was even allowed by the judge to include as “evidence” that Peterson was bisexual. Welcome to criminal justice in Durham.
**Rome, Georgia that is. I’m sure it’s a fine place and should I ever visit, I promise to behave myself. I lived in the South for a dozen years. My manners are still lousy, but as a result of my stay there, they are heads and shoulders above what they once were. For that I’m thankful.
I note that in a couple of days, “Concerned Mothers,” plan a walk in support of the Duke lacrosse players, their families and their deposed coach. There’s nothing wrong with that - I’m all for public demonstrations - except for one thing: it’s planned for 11 AM on a Sunday. If you’ve lived in the South, you know that’s a big no-no. Sunday 11 AM is church time. You don’t mess around with church time for anything. If you organize an event for such a time, you are laying down the gauntlet. These “Concerned Mothers” are probably being viewed in some quarters as “G-d Hating Yankee Bitches” (not my view mind you).
So it goes with the Lacrosse affair. While everyone waits for the inevitable and welcome dropping of charges, the sideshows related to the affair have turned into a mixture of farce and more bad behavior. Since Nifong left the stage, angry white males and females have been left without a good punching bag to vent their frustrations about how miserable it is to be white and conservative. So they’ve returned their focus to 88 faculty members and have yet again villainized them. Fox News, the Wall Street Journal and other right wing pubs have been more than willing to serve as fulminators and engage in demagoguery.
Yes, 88 faculty members signed a statement that callously used a tragic event to try and promote a political agenda. And now you have a bunch of equally pompous fools callously using a tragic event to reopen the culture wars. A pox on both of their houses. Three people are still being charged with felonies. Who with any heart on either side of the political spectrum would want to fulminate over a side issue and continue to use the lives of three people for political advantage?
At face value, it is ironic that the Lacrosse affair has shown some of the worst public behavior imaginable, yet it has taken place in a region of the country where manners are the most valued. But a lot of that is due to the fact that Duke is not really a Southern institution. Most of its students come from the North. Its faculty members come from the North. Its leadership comes from the North. It’s a little Northern island and many of its students and faculty are dismissive of the South. Duke lives according to Northern rules; manners and civil behavior just aren’t that important.
As with all generalities, there are hiccups and the hiccup in this discussion comes from Southern bred and educated DA Mike Nifong. Disregarding his legal ineptitude and probable ethical lapses, the way he has carried himself throughout this affair would, I’m sure, put any mother from the South to shame. I note that the last nationally prominent case in Durham was the Peterson murder trail of a few years ago. The DA in charge of that case didn’t say much of anything until the trial began. He just went about his business. And then he put Peterson behind bars for a long, long time. That’s how you should prosecute a case in the South if and when you have evidence*. As a matter of fact, that’s how you should prosecute a case anywhere.
As for the “Concerned Mothers,” I wish them well. But those Yankee ladies better push their protest time forward a couple of hours. First there’s church. Then there’s casserole. Then you can go off and do whatever good deeds you wish. When in Rome…**
*On the other hand, the prosecuting attorney was allowed to throw the kitchen sink at Peterson during the trial; he was even allowed by the judge to include as “evidence” that Peterson was bisexual. Welcome to criminal justice in Durham.
**Rome, Georgia that is. I’m sure it’s a fine place and should I ever visit, I promise to behave myself. I lived in the South for a dozen years. My manners are still lousy, but as a result of my stay there, they are heads and shoulders above what they once were. For that I’m thankful.
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