Throw the Rascals Out
In the universe of board memberships, none exceeds the prestige of belonging to a college or university board. None is as screwed up, either.
For blue-chip authority, gaze no further than Vanderbilt University, where members have historically been a literal who’s who of this city’s cream-of-the-crop business leadership. Were you to take the membership list of Watauga—the secret group of Nashville businessmen who ran much of this city’s affairs from the mid-’60s to early '80s—and compare it with the Vanderbilt board, many of the names would be the same. Blue-blooded, Caucasian, and of the male persuasion, the Nashville members of the board were as powerful and effective as they come.
But with its extremely Western cast, the university decided some time ago that it needed to take some steps to move beyond that kind of board. It applied an age limit to board members so that some of its older members would have to step down. The result has been a culling of the old and an infusion of the new. Under current Chancellor Gordon Gee, that “new” is often religiously, geographically and intellectually diverse. Generally speaking, this reform has worked.
But elsewhere in college and university boards, there is turmoil, and it’s doing serious damage. At Fisk University and at the University of Tennessee, the governing boards are flailing about in a miasma of confusion, misunderstanding and flat stupidity.
At Fisk University, several board members with nothing better to do hounded president Carolynn Reid-Wallace until she decided she’d had enough of it and quit. For reasons not entirely clear, some board members badgered, micromanaged and argued with Wallace and members of her administration to the point of making their lives a living hell. Reid-Wallace declines to discuss the situation, but some say the combination of power and idleness in some members’ lives led them to object to and protest even the tiniest matters, from the writing of press releases to the admissions of students. One executive level secretary whom Reid-Wallace hired lasted for only a few weeks, finding the level of hostility from board members simply unbearable. A person familiar with the situation said board members were “rude to the president—they question everything she does. Carolyn has to fight outside the school to make it succeed, and then she has a second front of people on the board she has to fight.”
Even a member of the board acknowledged as much to the Scene, saying board members frequently “browbeat” staff. The tragic part of it is that Reid-Wallace had both defined a mission for the school and charted a path to get there. Her loss is immeasurable.
Meanwhile, to the east, an institution finds itself suffering the slings and arrows of public humiliation. At the University of Tennessee, board memberships are as prized a possession as 50-yardline seats in Neyland. For decades now, appointments by Tennessee governors to the UT Board of Trustees have been reserved for the governor’s closest intimates and allies. As a result, the place is largely a wax museum of political cronies, some of whom refuse to lead, follow or get out of the way.
When it comes to the way it carries out its duties, the board is looking very questionable. John Shumaker, the president whose various insane purchases included a $1,000 clothes-warming device for his closet, deserves much of the blame for the excesses. But where was the board? Were they lost? Did they not ask any questions? Did they exercise no oversight? Can they read?
In recent years, amid tanking stock markets and ballooning executive pay packages, the private sector has gone through an agonizing reform in the way boards of directors operate. It’s time, too, that nonprofit board memberships—particularly with regard to UT and Fisk—be reexamined. Clear responsibilities, rigid terms of service and delineations of authority between the board and the executive would be fine places to start. On top of that, wholesale overhauls of the boards’ memberships might be in order. Otherwise, this state will be home to more than its fair share of languishing educational institutions.
Comments (0)