A Jewish atheist feminist columnist/professor and a devout Mormon bow tie–clad lawyer/university president walked into a bar.
Or at least, shared a Zoom screen to talk about higher ed. Hilarity ensued. Especially since both have the sometimes-job-ending though not career-killing trait of talking faster than they think and never, ever being able to resist a sarcastic crack.
The Columnist didn’t get the memo about being circumspect and careful and spouted off with abandon, often finding herself surprised when people actually pay attention to what she writes and praise her for being “brave” (What are you so afraid of that you don’t feel a similar freedom? she often wonders).
The President, on the other hand, has had the kind of career where if you asked any civilian to name a college president, they would likely mention him. They might even be able to conjure an image of a bow-tied guy, not of football player size, who nevertheless allowed himself to be carried aloft on the hands of the football fans that crammed the stadiums of the giant institutions he led.
Lead them he did, until his Achilles’ mouth and inability to refrain from cracking a joke kept getting him fired. And then rehired. Now that he may be done presidenting, he’s working a bunch of gigs to help fix higher ed, something the Columnist is also trying to do (though from the cheap seats).
This odd couple decided it might be fun to engage in some witty banter serious discussion (via text messages) of important issues facing an industry they both love and to which they have committed their lives.
Columnist: You became a president my sophomore year of college. When I graduated and started working in academic publishing, I began following your career. I feel like I’ve known you for decades, Gordon.
President: Wow!! I have been a president your whole professional life.
Columnist: And you’ve shaped my idea—and many others’—of the American university president. You unapologetically embraced the material rewards but never came off as pretentious, and you did hard things while always seeming to be having fun and taking the work, but not yourself, too seriously.
President: I view the presidency the same way you view being a faculty member. These are the best jobs in the country, and those who whine and complain about academic life are so out of touch with the gift we have been given. And, Rachel, that is why you and I, though from different planets, have found each other, because we both believe in the cause but do not take ourselves too seriously. The joyful odd couple indeed.
Columnist: Oy. I think that makes me Oscar. Somewhere there must be a Greatest Hits of Gee Gaffes. What’s your favorite of the many, many dumb things you’ve said?
President: Probably the most embarrassing and painful moment was when I was meeting with our athletic council at Ohio State and I started talking about Notre Dame joining the Big Ten again.
Columnist: Right. IHE reported on that.
President: That was stupid because I have great admiration for Notre Dame and Father Jenkins—the president is a dear man and great friend. Sometimes a sense of humor, which I believe is critical to leadership, can be painful. The good fathers forgave me, which made it even worse. Also, my crack about the Little Sisters of the Poor. Though I did become their single largest donor.
Columnist: Ah, money. Your salary has long been a topic of conversation. I’ve never aspired to an administrative post because I think I am paid handsomely for doing the best job in the world: teaching what I love. I don’t resent administrative salaries, because if someone is able to negotiate a good deal for themselves with a board, that’s who I want representing my institution. You made a lot and you were accused of lavish spending. Spill the beans, please.
President: I was compensated very well—
Columnist: [cough]
President: —but in turn I raised billions for the universities I served. So, no excuses other than pride and success. Truthfully, my goal always was to make as much money as my football coach, which I never did in 45 years. One time I received a letter from a fan who berated me for my salary and then railed against me for being so parsimonious as to only pay the football coach $4 million.
I am at that point in life where I own up to every mistake. But my irritation gets high when the “lavish spending” issue gets thrown around. It is a narrative developed by several newspaper reporters who wanted a story and decided to invent one. For example, they accused me of spending $65,000 on bow ties. I did not spend that money on bow ties but rather on bow-tie cookies that we distributed to students, families, friends and donors over a period of years.
Columnist: Stale cookies? Nice. Speaking of pride and success, what on earth were you thinking when you took on the presidency of Brown? That move seemed to reek of the kind of arrogance you’ve accused universities of.
President: I think the goal of many university presidents is to lead an Ivy. And I was no different. Heady stuff. But I had come from an institution of 65,000 students to one of 6,500 and soon felt like an antelope in a telephone booth. It was small and self-centered. It is undoubtedly a great university, but fit is important and I was not a good fit. What I learned was that the smaller the institution, the more politically intense it is for the president.
Columnist: Now I’m going to have at you, buddy. Let’s talk about the University of Austin, which you’ve been associated with from the beginning. Sure, it’s in some ways an innovative answer to the structural problems in our industry, and it’s also a horrific winding back of the social progress we’ve made toward become a more democratic and egalitarian society. I mean, WTF, Gordon?
President: In my view, there are two pathways to change the arc of U.S. higher education. The first is from the inside out, which, candidly, is like moving a graveyard. Or the other is to create a new university that can set the standard for change. That is what the University of Austin is attempting to do. By returning to the fundamentals of Western thought and focusing on a robust conversation across the intellectual spectrum, they will gain traction. It is a noble effort.
Columnist: Gordon, you ignorant slut. Excuse me while I puke.
President: Well, go ahead and puke. 🤓
Columnist: We’ll come back to why you think it’s noble 🤮 to return to the times when everyone only read dead white men and were taught by bow-tied white men.
How about a list of topics you’re now able to speak freely about? I mean, we agree on many things and disagree on others. What else can we discuss and push each other on to think harder?
President: 1. Need to address the four tyrannies: tenure, departments, colleges and leadership gerontocracy. 2. How do we stop university faculty and others from hiding behind academic freedom and start accepting academic responsibility? 3. Exploding the myth of shared governance and creat[ing] a new model of collective responsibility that creates agility and speed by doing away with internal processes that are calculated to preserve the status quo. 4. How to create a standard of excellence in appointing members of Boards of Governors by moving it out of the political process. 5. How to make certain that the selection process of a new president produces the best candidates rather than individuals who have offended the fewest people the longest period of time.
Columnist: All that and I can add another 15 or 20 things. Plus, we both hate the ocean, both married people younger and hotter than us (I win because Toby is 14 years my junior), and you were an Eagle Scout—
President: Why did you marry a younger hot guy?
Columnist: Because I’m no fool, Gramps. Anyway, and you were an Eagle Scout—
President: I think only because I’m almost certain my dad paid off the scoutmaster to get it for me.
Columnist: —and I was a Brownie for about a week (loved the outfit) but got fired because I refused to pledge allegiance to the flag (Vietnam).
This will be fun. I say our next text exchange is “Majors Are Dumb.” And as we’ve already established, I’m the boss. Let’s talk and text again soon.
Rachel Toor is a contributing editor at Inside Higher Ed and the co-founder of The Sandbox. She is also a professor of creative writing. E. Gordon Gee has served as a university president for 45 years at five different universities—two of them twice. He retired from the presidency July 15, 2025.
