aristocrats blissfully ignorant of the plight of the masses living off-campus. They fought over forgivable loans and summer stipends, they wrote law review articles with four thousand footnotes, they dreamed of being appointed to a federal appeals court; they taught the theory of law and lived theoretical lives, ‘what-if’ lives as if life were a hypothetical fact situation. They railed against Republicans and Wall Street and the one-ercenters, but they sat happily ensconced in chairs endowed by corporate law firms in Houston and Dallas, by Joe Jamail, the billionaire plaintiff’s lawyer famous for winning a $3 billion verdict in
Pennzoil v. Texaco
, and even by Frederick Baron, the now-deceased millionaire asbestos lawyer infamous for funding John Edwards’ mistress during his failed presidential campaign.
Such was the Academy.
Book did not live an Academy life. He lived out there, among the people. In the real world. On the road. Less traveled or more traveled, but at least traveled. He didn’t want to teach theory; he wanted to live reality. With each passing day, he became more disillusioned with the Academy. It seemed less relevant,less in touch with the real world, less concerned with the problems of real people. More disconnected from life. More unconcerned with life off-campus.
‘All right,’ Professor Goldman said. ‘Let’s move on to tenure. Would those professors up for tenure please exit the meeting?’
Henry stood. He looked like a man about to face a firing squad.
‘I love teaching the law.’
‘You’ll still be teaching the law next year, Henry.’
After Henry and Professor Stone and the other tenure candidates had departed, Professor Goldman, as chair of the Tenure Committee, opened the meeting for discussion.
Book stood. ‘I propose Henry Lawson for tenure. For the third time. Henry is a gentleman and a scholar. He has published five law review articles—’
Professor Goldman interrupted: ‘In what reviews?’
‘Texas Tech, Tulsa …’
‘Texas Tech and Tulsa. Not exactly the “A” list, is it? Any in the Harvard or Yale reviews?’
‘Those reviews aren’t interested in articles about oil and gas law, Jonah.’
‘Then how important can his articles be? How much value can we attach to publications in the
Texas Tech Law Review
?’
‘You write about the rights of trees, Jonah—how valuable are your articles, except perhaps to an evergreen? How many people read your articles? How many times have your articles been cited, anywhere? Truth is, no one reads our law review articles, you know that. We write them to get tenure. Most legal scholarship is worthless drivel. But Henry is a nationally recognized expert in oil and gas law—’
‘Yippee.’
‘—He’s served on the White House’s Energy Task Force—’
‘Promoting oil and gas drilling—including fracking, for God’s sake!’
‘—He’s in demand as a speaker to industry groups—’
‘Oilcompany executives.’
‘—We all know that Henry is smart enough, dedicated enough, a hell of a teacher, his students love him—’
‘Tenure is not a popularity contest.’
‘—Henry worked in the real world—’
‘For an oil company.’
‘—Which means he can teach the students about being real lawyers.’
‘So?’
‘So he can relate to the very alumni who support this university and this law school. For all of you Harvard and Yale grads who don’t know, this university was built on oil money. And I remind you that Henry—’
‘Voted for Bush! Twice!’
Another even louder collective gasp went up from the professors.
‘How do you know?’
‘I have my sources. He can’t have voted for Bush and be our next tenured professor.’
‘You’re right, Jonah. Henry shouldn’t be the next tenured professor. He should be the next assistant dean, and then the next dean when Roscoe retires. He could run this school better than any of us.’
‘Having a Republican dean like Roscoe is why we dropped in
William Wharton
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