Mood:
chillin'Topic: Writing
I was surprised when I actually got to set up an interview with him—it was hit or miss with top university officials wanting to do interviews with a student journalist for the student newspaper (the reputation has nearly ruined us for years).
I was nervous. The topic was a bit controversial—the decision to require freshmen to live on campus. Frankly, I didn't see what the big deal was; I lived on campus my first few years of school and I loved it. But I know the value of having the choice to do what you want, and it definitely was not up to me to make the decision.
When his secretary called me into his office from the waiting room, I was stunned. His office was big and beautiful, filled with cabinets and closets and a grand desk of dark chestnut. I felt like I was in the Oval Office—only in here, the details were different.
There was a picture of him shaking hands with President George W. Bush, right next to a complete spacesuit. There I was, dressed from summer school carrying my trusty yellow steno pad. But our Chancellor, Sean O'Keefe was inviting, and we sat in his sitting area created with an antique couch and tufted chairs. There was a glass bowl of gold and purple chocolates on the table between us.
I had heard about his strong republican connections and his work at NASA—when O'Keefe was hired in the early months of 2005, our community celebrated. Here was a man who was good enough to serve as the Director of National Securities Studies (partnership between Syracuse University and Johns Hopkins University), serve as dean of the graduate school at Penn State University, and held an endowed chair at the Syracuse University Maxwell School of Citizenship and Public Affairs.
Of course, he was better known for his work with presidents—serving on two Bush administrations on four different occasions. He served on the U.S. Senate Committee on Appropriations staff for eight years and was staff director of the Defense Appropriations Subcommittee before working for Dick Cheney's (then Defense Secretary) Pentagon management team.
He joined President Bush's administration as deputy assistant to the president and later as the deputy director of the Office of Management and Budget until 2001, when he became NASA administrator, before coming to LSU.
Our community was certain LSU would become well-known because of O'Keefe, while also raising private funding efforts. But it wasn't long before the public (and internal) support failed O'Keefe.
In August 2006, the LSU system was disappointed in the way individual campuses were being overseen. When System Chief Executive Lombardi was hired in 2007, support shifted from O'Keefe to Lombardi, and it was no secret who the favorite was. A few O'Keefe supporters made their feelings known in ads and letters—to them, there was no valid reason to let O'Keefe go. Afterall, he had done a great job of increasing federal research finances and had improved tenure for LSU professors.
But on January 16, 2008, O'Keefe announced his resignation. In a written statement, he said:
"It is evident to me that LSU needs a campus leader who enjoys the full confidence of the board and the president."
The reason for my interview with O'Keefe that summer of 2007, was about the decision to board freshman. It seemed the higher-ups didn't know who to trust in making it—orignally, the decision was left up to the Chancellor, but when he made up his mind, the board decided they wanted their input. No one was trusting O'Keefe.
"[Jenkins] thought it should go to the board; they wanted the debate to continue," O'Keefe said. "Everyone will get a chance to voice their opinion. It's important to know various opinions of the community."
My article also stated that the board assisting in big decisions was a common procedure and even rejected a claim made by The Advocate on O'Keefe's behalf.
My article ran as planned and, to this day, I stand by it as the best news article I've written.
But my coworkers didn't see it that way. Instead, they sat me down, told me they wanted me to redo the interview with intent to break O'Keefe down—in their minds, O'Keefe was hiding something and I wasn't digging far enough.
Yellow journalism, anyone?
I refused to pollute my integrity, and that of my career as a writer. I have, and always will be, honest in my interviews and the work that comes out of them. I might ask difficult questions or cover controversial topics, but the answer I get is the one I use—it is not for me to decide who is lying to me and who isn't.
I was ashamed that I had worked with these people for years; students who called themselves journalists that were out to bring down our chancellor. It is people like that that have ruined it for us all—made us all out to look like sensational liars.
My article, "Residency Decision Moves to Board," was the last one I wrote for the student paper (read it here). I quit.
I hadn't thought much about that interview until I arrived at my office Tuesday to hear that O'Keefe and his son were on the plane that crashed into the side of a mountain on its way to an Alaskan fishing trip. The LSU community was waiting on pins and needles to find out O'Keefe's fate. Around 2:30 p.m., just after Sen. Ted Stevens death was confirmed, we got word O'Keefe and his son Keven were two of the four survivors.
Wednesday, it was reported that the O'Keefes were listed in critical condition with broken bones, but are expected to survive. From the news broadcast I heard Wednesday morning, it is a wonder that anyone was able to survive.
It isn't often we get a second chance at life, and it's probably less likely that we get a second chance to speak with the person. While O'Keefe and I certainly don't see eye-to-eye on most things, I am relieved that he gets a second chance at the rest of his life. I'm also relieved that I can write him a letter telling him that he's taught me the same lesson twice, in two very different ways—when you get pushed around, push back.
In the end, we both have the world under our feet.
