Dead President

When I started at The U, before it was known as The U, the President was an affable Southern fellow named Henry King Stanford. He was courtly and charming, and seemed content to keep UM going on its course -- nice place, of course, but not one that attracted too many top students. When I was a junior, and Henry retired, the Board decided to bring in a new prez tasked with greatly improving academics and student quality, and they hired the Dean of the Wash U Law School, Tad Foote. Our main supervisor, as Honors Students, was James Lee Ash, the Director. He was a Texan with a Yale doctorate, and his vision for UM was to make it smaller and smarter -- sort of taking the credentials of the Honors Program, with higher SAT scores and grades, and making the rest of the U more like Honors. Dr. Ash, as we always called him, called me into his office, as I was president of the Honors Students Association, and gave me an important task: he wanted to bring the new president over to our apartment, to show him the Honors housing. I came back to 22Z and told my roommies a major visit was planned. Dr. Barry, Mike, and Jorge and I all started cleaning in the way of college guys -- grabbing piles of stuff and stuffing it into closets and drawers. One of us might have dragged a rag over some furniture, but I doubt it. Mike, now the head of Infectious Diseases at Arkansas, hid his extensive beer supply, even though in those days we were all past 18 and legal drinkers. There was a knock, and an entourage came in. We met President Foote. He was, by a factor of 10, the WASPiest man I ever met. He was in his 40s but looked older, silver haired and regal of bearing. He shook our hands, asked a few pleasant questions, and looked around. Jim Ash told him about the WW II history of our shabby building. The Prez seemed impressed. We had "passed the inspection," and the President left, and, sure enough, did what he said: improved the U greatly. Of course, our football team had something to do with raising our profile. We won 5 rings while Foote was president, and applications soared. Americans love winners, and no one was winning more than the University of Miami. The team was pretty inner city, and many of the greatest players behaved in ways not suitable for, say Yale dining clubs. So there was a frisson between Foote and the team, but still the Canes won, and still the U got smaller and smarter. Fast forward to 2001. I got a law degree, earned a nice stash of sheckels, and moved into a big ass house. The acting Dean of the Arts and Sciences College, Dan Pals, came for a visit. As he looked around, he had a request: could the College hold its farewell to Foote ceremony at our house? Although we had just moved in, Wifey agreed, and so 20 years after I had to clean up my dorm, I had to help straighten up my mansion. We had moved in February, and in March we'd have over 100 guests at a formal cocktail party. Wifey and the Ds scrambled, the caterers and pianist arrived, the College supplied valet parking, and the party was on. Tad was delighted when I told him of the symmetry --welcoming him to the U as an undergrad, and now hosting a farewell 20 years later as a successful alum. My mother was at the party, 81 then, and Tad acknowledged her and thanked her for "sending her boy to the University of Miami." My Mom, not one for quick wit, pointed at her surroundings and said "Looks like it was a good choice." Everyone laughed heartily. After Tad retired, our next president was a very high profile former Clinton Cabinet member, Donna Shalala. She served 14 years, and did, by objective standards,a good job. She raised lots of money, and increased academic standards even more -- The U now competes with top places like Duke and Emory for top students. But I met Shalala several times, and never got to like her. She was abrupt and lacking in charm. She used her many connections very well, but she was never a person I would have wanted to host at my house. She was, well, a strange little fat woman. I haven't met her replacement yet, Julio Frenk. He's a Mexican Jew -- and certainly more reflective of Miami's diversity than the out of central casting Midwestern WASP Tad Foote. I'm sure I'll cross paths with the new president eventually, in my role as an academic groupie... So it's adios to Tad Foote. He died yesterday at 78, of Parkinson's disease. I thank him for his service to my beloved alma mater -- he did a hell of a job.