Woo pig sooie

A dozen years living a a place will change a person. I've been an SEC partisan since my childhood days listening to John Majors call Tennessee games on the radio while working outside on fall days with my dad. But I never thought I would become one of the crimson-clad masses in this state calling the Hogs.

At some point the pride and fervor become irresistible, I suppose. I would never consider failing to tune into the Cotton Bowl tonight, along with all my neighbors, to support the flagship institution and the old-school tradition of Arkansas football.  All season I've been making the same arguments as I read in the boosterish local sports section for the quality of this team, who lost only two games this year -- to the two teams who are contending for the national championship.

Twelve years ago, I would have looked at the person I am now with bemusement. Now I'm enjoying being caught up in the statewide hysteria.  Wooooooooo pig!  Sooie!

Turmoil

A few years ago the president of my university resigned and received a seven-figure contract buyout after a fraud was uncovered in his request for an accelerated bonus.  Among the unseemly details that were unearthed after his departure were an addiction to high-stakes slot machines that put him in debt and later got him brought up on federal charges.  It was a terrible time for our university as six years of deception and backroom deals unraveled in full view of the press.

After what many in the faculty considered a disappointing search process, a new president was hired in early 2009.  We were all ready to rebuild our finances and our reputation, but progress proved elusive.

Today that president resigned, just two and a half years into his contract.  It happened so fast most of us barely had time to process it.  Last week the Board of Trustees met, and in the course of normal business were informed of a $700,000 "unrestricted grant" from Aramark, the university's food service contractor, to be used for renovations to the president's residence.  Now, leaving aside how an "unrestricted" grant can be earmarked for a particular project -- in the financial world I inhabit, "unrestricted" means you can do anything with the money -- this was a curious occurrence in many ways.

The president's residence dates back to the WPA.  Research done by my freshman students last year revealed that when it was built, students regarded it as a marvel, since no houses of that magnificence existed for miles around.  The president's contract requires him to live in the house, and once again campus, our newly minted president circa 2009 immediately began requesting upgrades.  The new satellite package, flat-screen TVs, and hardwood floors had murky origins, but wherever they came from, over the last two years hundreds of thousands of dollars have been spent on the building.  Problems with mold and asbestos were discovered, and the president and his wife vacated to another campus-owned house several months ago.  A committee was formed to report to the Board of Trustees about options for the house; it was reported that the 5000-square-foot house was felt to be unsuitable for a college president, especially if one with a family and children were to occupy the position in the future.  Additions were discussed, along with other options, like replacing the contract provision with a stipend to pay for other housing or purchasing another home in Conway, while turning the president's residence into a reception or events center.

When the $700,000 "gift" was announced last Friday, the board's chairman described it as a "godsend."  Due to public and faculty pressure, the prospect of using public funds for further renovation to the home was unattractive to the board.  The Aramark grant allowed work to go forward with private money.  That is, until the newspaper reported Tuesday that the gift came with strings attached.  The letter from Aramark management offering the funds stipulated that the money was conditional on a ten-year renewal of the company's contract with UCA, a contract that according to reports nets upwards of $6 million per year for the company in meal plans and catering revenues.

Board members professed to be livid that they had not been informed of this condition before voting to accept the money and go forward with architects on renovations to the property at Wednesday's meeting.  The president and board chairman apologized, while defending themselves with the contention that deals like this do not constitute kickbacks or corruption because they are common across large institutions; food service companies often contribute large amounts for infrastructure improvements that house their operations, such as the construction of cafeterias or retail locations.  The difference in this case seemed to be how the deal was presented to the Board and what they thought they were voting on, and perhaps about the presumption of Aramark preempting the decision of the committee working on the issue of what would happen to the house.  To be equivalent to those situations at other universities, Aramark would be paying for renovation of a building they expected to occupy, and that everyone else expected them to occupy.

A special meeting was called for Thursday, responding to news stories appearing in the morning papers.  The board refused to grant the president's request to reside elsewhere, and members often responded testily to the discussion about the boondoggle.  When yet another board meeting was announced for today, with an executive session (dealing with personnel issues) beginning immediately upon its commencement, the campus community knew immediately that the president's employment was what was under discussion.  And indeed, the news that came out of the meeting confirmed it, with a buyout of his contract to the tune of half a million dollars and the naming of longtime senior staffer -- and former interim president after the Hardin debacle -- Tom Courtway as interim president yet again.

It's deeply disheartening to have this happen again.  And yet, unfortunately, it's not surprising.  The search process in 2008 appeared to focus not on the candidate's credentials, impressive as they may be, but on his hometown connections as an alumnus of the university and a fraternal connection to folks in a position to make it happen.  We have this supremely frustrating tendency in Arkansas -- maybe elsewhere, too, but Arkansas has it in spades -- to mistrust outsiders to the extent that we will manipulate any process of appointment or hiring to insure that only insiders get the jobs.  This is the second time in ten years that it has bitten us in the behind and further damaged the good name of an institution that has existed for a hundred years and survived wars and depressions.  How many more chances will the public give us to get it right?

Oh, looks gooooood!

I don't care if they call him Captain Arkansas or Captain Americus Vespucci.  This can't be legal.

Malco Motors from James Spears on Vimeo.

The winding road

An alumnus returned this week to give the keynote address for our Challenge Week series on corruption in government.  But this is not someone who popped over from across the state or even across the country.  This alumnus flew 23 hours from Macedonia to be our guest expert.  A native of this young country (which became independent from the former Yugoslavia in 1991), he works with a U.S. government agency there to foster democratic development -- something very hard to do in a transitional state where corruption is an ever-present reality and threat.

What's remarkable to me about this particular person and their return to our institution is not his expertise nor his current position of responsibility.  It's the fact that his route through life took him to Conway, Arkansas for four years, where he was a fixture in the Honors College socially and academically, and occupied positions of leadership in student government as well.  That contingency is what led him back here, and surely for many people it's the one discordant note in his vita.  Eastern Europe, Washington D.C., Lisbon, Paris, Germany -- all these locations make sense.  What the heck is Conway, Arkansas doing there?  How did we become the fortunate recipient of this remarkable person's time and energy for four years, when in so many ways it seems so unlikely?

Everywhere I go I find people who have Arkansas connections, and it never ceases to surprise me.  I suppose that's because I lived right next to Arkansas for eighteen years, in Tennessee, and never found a reason to set foot in the place (or even allow it to cross my mind, to tell you the truth).  Yet here we have a hotbed of interesting theological thought, with one panel in the Open and Relational Theologies program at the recent AAR meeting dominated by Conway residents, three to one.  I meet people all the time who have lived in the state, have family there, know its ways and its colleges and its business and its politics.

All this helps me to feel confident -- and pass the confidence along to my students -- that their home state and my adopted one is not a backwater or an also-ran.  People everywhere have been touched by it.  If a Macedonian trying to guide his country into open and transparent government has reaped benefits from time in Arkansas, anything is possible.

Let the sunshine in

It's been a great year to be an Arkansas Democrat-Gazette reader.  As if to make up for six years of neglect (and sometimes outright complicity) in l'affaire Hardin at my university, the newspaper has gone on a FOIA tear through state government, uncovering all sorts of questionable practices, favoritism, waste, and lack of oversight.

First there were the non-retired retirees.  A few years ago, legislators worried that government offices were losing their most experienced human capital to retirement, and accordingly passed a law allowing those offices to re-hire retired workers after a short mandatory waiting period.  Whaddya know, this year the Dem-Gaz found that several highly-paid state employees had gamed the system.  They retired with the understanding that the office would re-hire them after the 90 days were up, thereby enabling them to draw both their salary and their pension simultaneously.  In a few cases, they never actually quit working -- just took their names off the payroll.

Then came the story on state vehicles.  Turns out some elected officials were being granted use of a state vehicle to commute to and from work, but weren't counting the value of use as income because of -- get this -- a constitutional provision stating that elected officials can't receive any income over and above their legally-set salaries.  If the state was giving them a car, the reasoning went, it couldn't be income, because they were prohibited from receiving any more income!

That led to a sweeping investigation by the paper of various agencies' practices regarding state vehicles, uncovering one agency with more cars than employees.

Today's exercise in truthtelling was the revelation that in Pulaski County (the home of Little Rock, the state capital), the assessor has been granting nine pastors exemptions from property taxes on the homes that they own.  The law allows an exemption for church-owned parsonages, but citing "custom," the county assessor gave it to everyone who asked whom she could verify were full-time ministers.  The fact that only nine asked is a tribute both to how few people knew about this lucrative loophole, and to how lucrative it was for those who made the effort to benefit -- their houses ranged from the $300,000 to $600,000 range (in a state where you would have to search long and hard to find a $600,000 house).

I take great delight in these investigations.  They are Arkansas newspapering at its finest: uncovering unfairness, waste, and profiteering in practices that people justify based on the way things have always been.  Long live local journalism!

The power of music

On Friday, my student Jacob presented his thesis about the religious power of popular music. Across the parking lot, American Idol finalist Kris Allen performed in one of the show's homecoming events. The town had been covered with supportive signs for the occasion. Every third person I met on campus was wearing a Kris Allen t-shirt. E-mails about ticketing arrangements and schedules went out from the adminstration nearly hourly for days.

When the presentation was over and the floor was open for questions, I asked the obvious one. How did Jacob's analysis -- about the emotional connection, community formation, and transcendent yearnings embodied in popular music -- relate to the events taking place across the parking lot?

Jacob had it covered. Kris Allen is about the citizens of Conway suddenly becoming visible to the world. In the spotlight, we emphasize our commonalities. We celebrate what unites us. We see our American Idol as the figure that represents us on a larger stage.

That explains why I felt anxious -- even disappointed -- that I didn't get to attend any of the events because I was occupied with senior theses, banquets, and graduation activities all day. Even though Kris Allen is nothing like Bill Clinton in terms of historical significance, there was a distinct sense of lack in the knowledge that I wouldn't be participating.

Did that have anything to do with the power of music? I wouldn't buy a Kris Allen album or iTunes download of my own free will. But in the context of the show -- the competition -- I'm a fierce supporter. And I thrill -- yes, I do -- to the visibility and pride he's brought to my town. Maybe that makes me a sap. But there it was, undeniable, just across the parking lot from the singer and his fans, while I watched a YouTube clip of Elvis and hummed to myself: "Hush little baby, don't you cry ..."

Brace yourself

On May 23, 2008, the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette printed the following provocative letter about the anniversary of the founding of the state of Israel:

Anniversary also tragic

While Israel celebrates its 60 th birthday and American leaders glad-hand it with childish glee, I lament the almost complete refusal by American media and government to acknowledge the tragedy that is synonymous with Israel's creation. For Palestinians, this is the 60th birthday of Al Nakba (the catastrophe). Sixty years ago, over three-quarters of a million Palestinians were forcibly and permanently removed from their homes. Over 500 Palestinian villages were destroyed, depopulated or occupied by the victorious Israelis.

Of course, mainstream American media and no doubt [your] Editorial page would rather wallow in journalistic complicity than dare to acknowledge the systematic dehumanization of an entire population by America's favorite European colony. All the while good Zionist Christians give the infallible state of Israel a pat on the back whilst "What Would Jesus Do?" bracelets dangle callously upon their wrists. Now Israel celebrates its sham democracy by continuously appropriating Palestinian land and resources for Jewish settlers. Farms in the West Bank are either confiscated for Jews or destroyed to deter an Arab family's viability on the land. Israel continues to construct the unimaginably huge separation wall, built upon and cutting deep into Palestinian land. This wall will no doubt demarcate the area's new geographic reality when Israel unilaterally declares its final borders. Finally, thousands of Palestinian civilians (spare me your "human shield" drivel) have died at the hands of bloodthirsty Israeli and Christian Falangist soldiers. Here's to 60 years of getting away with murder.

AMJAD SALEH FAUR
Fayetteville

Now I think Meredith Oakley, the editor of the Voices page, is a sharp cookie with her heart in the right place. So I'd like to think that she chose to print the following for the purpose of reminding us that shockingly hateful people like the letter-writer exist among us -- and not because the paper carries its hands-off letters-to-the-editor policy to ridiculous extremes.

With that said, it's ...

The Arkansas Democrat-Gazette Letter Of The Week!

From the June 13, 2008 final edition:

Soldiers are prepared

In a previous letter, Amjad Saleh Faur expressed his disgust with “bloodthirsty” Israeli and Christian Falangist soldiers while he lamented so-called Palestinian victims. Hold onto your head wrap, camel jockey.

I will not waste time exposing the distortions that I believe saturated Faur’s hate-filled diatribe against the free world. . . . What is an American-hating terrorist sympathizer doing in Arkansas? Does he have something planned?

If he wants to kill Americans, he is free to join his comrades in Iraq. But there’s something he should understand. Our soldiers in Iraq are not unarmed civilians sitting unexpectedly at their desks. They are armed, ready and willing. So, Mr. Faur, what are you waiting for? Quit complaining and go join the killing.

PHILIP MULLINS SR.
Dardanelle

Smoking: A personal history

I took the kids to one of the local parks today, and as I sat knitting a sock on the bench and they played on the slides and ladders, a couple of locals rested their elbows on a picnic table nearby. Every once in a while the smaller one in the Razorbacks sweatshirt said something funny to the bigger one in overalls, and I'd hear a phelgmy, wheezy laugh.

That sound reminded me of my fond history with smoking. I've never smoked -- not even a puff. My family considered smoking a vice akin to drinking, which meant that I was convinced for a long time that no Christian did either. (This led to some headscratching when I saw a member of our church hanging out at the porte cuchere between Sunday School and the worship service, grabbing a quick smoke.)

But as a teenager I started to know personally people who smoked, including at least one boyfriend. I found it rebellious and romantic, of course, but preferred to get just a contact high. (What was I scared of? Coughing, I guess -- in any case, I've always been sure I just wouldn't be able to breathe the stuff in.)

Now I disapprove, with all the power of my maternal and mentoring positions, of the students and staff members who gather at the doorways and puff away, ignoring the stencils on the doors reading "No Smoking Within 25 Yards" and dragging the gray plastic ash collectors closer to the entrances. I have a Puritan and upper-middle-class disdain for those who can't control their addictions.

But I also love the rasp of a smoke-ravaged voice, and the damp, breathy heaving of smoker's laughter. You hear it a lot around here, and despite its connection to an unhealthy habit, I associate it with a certain salt-of-the-earthness -- something real, like the solid, uncomplicated people of my state.

Cops no more

I read this quirky little article in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette Sunday edition (1/13/08) with a delighted smile on my face. Tucked away on an inside page of the equivalent of the Metro section, it turns out not to be news at all, but a witty, compelling feature about the committee that decides whether to take away police officers' certification after they've screwed up.

I knew that we had a winner at this paragraph:

Listening to law-enforcement professionals talk about crimes and investigations to other law-enforcement professionals is a little like listening to police reports read aloud, verbatim. A lot of it is police-ese like “this particular individual” and “exited the vehicle” and “became aware during the course of our investigation” and “took an aggressive posture.”

Ahhhh ... a writer with an excellent grasp of the rhetorical power of the list of particulars, one of my favorite stylistic devices. (Plus I'm inordinately fascinated by exactly the kind of language he quotes, the kind that plaintiffs and defendants on those daytime syndicated court shows like Judge Judy throw around all the time because they think it sounds all legal and stuff.)

It's nice to find a hidden gem in the local paper, a story that's neither hard news nor soft feature but somehow fascinating in that neither-fish-nor-fowl way, written with verve and an eye for the telling detail. Check it out, and set up a Google alert for Jacob Quinn Sanders (apparently recently arrived from Portland) -- even if a lot of his assignments are generic police-beat fare, there are bound to be more offbeat wonders on the way.

Treading water

Increasingly we hear that a college degree is the new high school diploma -- that, in other words, it's the minimum required to have a shot at a decent career and the American dream. And certainly, the population that expects to go to college has drastically expanded since World War II, for many interesting reasons (including the increase in university capacity prompted by the influx of G.I. Billers).

But here at UCA, we're reminded by the university president at every graduation how far we are from making bachelor's degrees the new normal. At last count (just a week ago), 19% of Arkansas adults older than 25 have a college degree, placing the state 49th in the nation in this measure, ahead of only West Virginia (at nearly 16%).

It's hard to imagine that collegiate education could be considered the new baseline in a state where 80% of adults past the traditional college age are making do with a high school education. And it's a sobering reminder of how far from the mainstream higher education is in this state, a fact that counsels vigilance in the fight to position the state's colleges as a funding priority. Although over 60% of high school graduates in the state now go to college, a rate that has shown a marked and continuous increase in the past decade and now is about equivalent to the nationwide measure, it's easy to see how many of them are first-generation college students -- and therefore how much more difficult it is going to be for them to succeed, not having been raised in a culture where higher education is taken for granted. I know that many of those students on the margins are the ones who enter under a remedial program and find themselves out of school before they know it, their few semesters of tuition having long since disappeared into the maw of the billing office.

Congratulations to the summer 2007 graduates of UCA, whose commencement ceremony I just attended. They deserve it. An undergraduate degree in this state still constitutes bucking the odds.