Braided Gold

by Glen Roylance

  After high school Cathy accepted a generous invitation to remain with her foster parents. She got a job as a waitress, working double shifts on weekends and, with miserly self-discipline, saved all she could to fulfill her dream of attending San Diego State the following year. As one who loved little children and possessed gifted insight into the way their minds worked, she planned to be an elementary school teacher.

  Always attractive, Cathy had been in and out of several relationships by the time she enrolled in college. What she unconsciously sought, however, was never forthcoming. It was not until she met Paul that she found the emotional warmth and security for which she hungered.

  The courtship progressed in whirlwind fashion. Sensing Cathy’s insecurities, he took it upon himself to look after her. He became her self-appointed tutor and volunteered to provide her with financial assistance when an unexpected dental bill overwhelmed her monthly budget. They sought out opportunities to be together and soon an exciting, highly charged courtship began to nurture the kind of mutual love that blinds one to the faults of another and touches everyday events with an aura of magic. With an abundance of optimism, Paul and Cathy announced their engagement, likewise their plans to move to Michigan where Paul would pursue graduate studies. The wedding, quiet and non-traditional, was performed by a justice of the peace. The only guests were the Dykemans, Cathy’s mother, her foster parents, and Paul’s father. Andrea was not invited!

  Paul looked at the illuminated dial on his bedside clock. It was time to stop thinking. The new day would soon be dawning, and he had a 9:00 AM appointment with President Eugene Michaelson.

  CHAPTER NINE

  President Michaelson greeted Paul coolly and motioned for him to take a seat on the other side of a massive mahogany desk that seemed to be a symbol of his importance. He was a man in his late fifties. His thinning hair was gray and his thick-lensed glasses made his eyes seem abnormally large and bulbous. His gangly body gave a scarecrow impression and his drab clothing hung like drapery on his wiry frame. The President’s manner was stiff and formal. To have dealings with him was to quickly discover his deficiencies in the social graces. By the same token, those who had any ongoing association with the President knew that he was a brilliant administrator when it came to procedural efficiency and the enacting of sound fiscal policies. University programs had expanded tremendously under his able leadership and the College of Education, his pride and joy, was recognized as having one of the top teacher development programs on the West Coast.

  Eugene Michaelson had started his career as a high school teacher in Richmond, Virginia. Though he had set his long-range sights on an administrative post, his professional advancement slowed considerably in consequence of World War II, wherein he served as a non-commissioned officer. His assignment in the Adjutant General’s office brought his organizational and managerial abilities to the fore as he shouldered enormous logistic and support responsibilities during the Allied invasion of France.

  After the war Gene returned to the classroom. Then, several years later, he took a sabbatical leave and entered graduate school at New York University where he persevered and acquired a doctorate in educational administration. Thereafter he returned to Virginia to serve as a high school principal in Alexandria. His skill as an administrator brought him immediate recognition, and within three years he became superintendent of the Alexandria School District. Four years later he was on the move again, accepting an offer to be the president of technical college in Northern Virginia, the forerunner of Northern Virginia Community College.

  But it was during a conference of educational administrators sponsored by the University of California at Berkeley that Gene and his wife fell in love with the West Coast. Two years later, when he heard that the president at San Diego State was retiring, he made it known that he was interested in the position. He was among the three final candidates selected by a search committee appointed by the Board of Trustees. To his delight the board ended up offering him the post. San Diego State and Southern California had been the love of his life ever since.

  The President seated himself in his high back, black leather chair and looked searchingly at Paul before wading into the business at hand. There was no effort at graciousness nor preliminary conversation. “Dr. Kirkham, there are times when my responsibilities involve unpleasant things, and unfortunately this occasion fits in that category. There are some serious problems you and I must discuss this morning.”

  Paul shifted in his chair in response to this initial cannon blast and braced himself for what might follow. Michaelson now leaned back and folded his arms over his chest as he asked a question that set the tone for the balance of their visit together. “Are you aware that there has been some harsh criticism directed at you in recent days?”

  Unruffled, Paul responded coldly. “Criticism from whom? – From students? – From colleagues? I am aware that my position on some issues has engendered controversy, but that is unavoidable in higher education, is it not?”

  “I’m talking about criticism from the Board of Trustees.”

  It took only a moment for Paul to process this surprise before taking a strong defensive posture. “President Michaelson, if this is going to be an inquisition, then I want to know exactly what the charges are. Is there concern about my position on issues or does the criticism have to do with my competence as a teacher?”

  “There has been a formal complaint lodged regarding unethical conduct on your part.”

  “That’s preposterous!”

  “The complaint was prepared by the Board, then forwarded to me. It alleges that your dealings with students have compromised the moral integrity of this University.”

  Paul laughed sarcastically. “And you’re giving credence to tripe like that? What comes next, the repeal of academic freedom in the university classroom?”

  “That’s not the tenor of the complaint,” said Michaelson, unyielding in his bearing of censure. “Let me read to you from the document.” He picked up what looked like a legal brief, several pages in length – this being the only item on his desk. Turning to the second page he began to read from paragraphs he had highlighted.

  Reports have come to us that the aforementioned, Paul Kirkham, has violated the code of conduct incumbent upon all who teach in institutions of higher education sponsored and supported by the State of California. It is charged that he has involved one of his students in conduct that not only placed her life in jeopardy but which was in violation of statutory law. We, therefore, ask that a full review of evidence against Dr. Kirkham be undertaken to determine if there is cause for the revocation of his teaching privileges at San Diego State University as well as other institutions of higher education sponsored by the state of California.

  Michaelson replaced the document on his desk and looked sternly at Paul, who sat expressionless in front of him. Clasping his bony hands and leaning forward slightly, the President continued. “There is also an addendum to this document which was prepared by the chairman of the trustees. It charges me with the responsibility of setting up a Faculty Board of Inquiry. This panel of your peers is to supersede the Committee on Grievances and Ethical Conduct, which is already in place here at the University, and will function something like a grand jury on your behalf. This Board of Inquiry will answer directly to the trustees.” Michaelson again leaned back in his chair and waited for Paul’s response.

  “Who initiated the complaint?” asked Paul, grimly.

  “Actually it was prepared by one of the trustees and then submitted to the Board as a whole. The complaint bears the signature of Wallace Fairclough, the brother of Julian Fairclough, a prominent attorney here in San Diego. I am told that his daughter was one of your students prior to her recent death. Apparently the girl’s death was self-inflicted. It seems that she was in a state of depression following an abortion. The family has reason to believe that you were involved in some way.”

  Things quickly tumbled into place in Paul’s mind and he
remembered the threat Julian Fairclough had hurled at him the night of their brief encounter. Anger surged through him and he spoke defiantly. “The whole thing is absurd. It points an accusing finger at me for saying things I have a perfect right to say as a teacher on this campus. And I am only one of the many who have strong feelings about women’s rights. There are many of us who believe that a woman should be allowed to have an abortion if she so chooses. I also believe that any law abrogating that right is unjust. There’s no mystery about my views on this subject. I’ve aired them freely in the classroom and they have been printed in the Daily Aztec. You know as well as I do that these issues are a matter of current public debate. The fact that an unstable student was registered for a class where I may have aired my beliefs is insufficient cause to hold me responsible for her own independent actions.”

  It was as though Michaelson’s bulbous eyes were searching Paul’s face for any telltale revelation of his complicity in the death of Jill Fairclough. “There is a report,” he said, weighing his words, “that the girl met with you to discuss some personal problems. Naturally there is speculation that – ”

  Paul’s explosive response came without forethought. Although personal honesty was a cardinal virtue within the structure of his personality, the instinct for self-preservation trumped all other concerns at this moment, and with all that was at stake he dissembled as with a “knee-jerk” reaction. Without premeditation he committed himself to the living of a lie. “Those are unwarranted conclusions,” he said with biting acrimony. “I had no contact with her, nor did I have any knowledge of her personal circumstances. I didn’t even realize she had been in my class until one of the students mentioned her death. There are over a hundred students enrolled in that class and the handful I do know on a first name basis are little more than passing acquaintances.”

  There it was said, just as he had spoken on impulse that night when he had looked into the menacing face of Julian Fairclough. The higher road simply eluded him at this moment. “I would like to know who is alleging that I had a counseling relationship with the girl,” he added with indignation.

  “It was her roommate, a very concerned sorority sister. Julian Fairclough spoke with her and a number of other people on campus following his daughter’s death. I gather that he’s even spoken with some of your colleagues over in the Psychology Department.”

  Paul glared at the President. “This is a witch hunt. That’s what it is.”

  “Yes, something like that, I suppose, but I think you’ll have to acknowledge that you have set yourself up as a target for censure. You can’t appoint yourself as the University spokesman for radical ideas without expecting some sort of backlash. It seems to me that you have done your best to create animosities and personal enmities. Unfortunately those realities and the ceaseless controversy that continues to swirl about you will be dragged into this formal review.”

  There was accusation in Paul’s voice as he responded. “Dr. Michaelson, are you really willing to be a part of all this? How sincere is your commitment to academic freedom? Are you really an educator or are you just another bureaucrat taking your cues from the political machinery? Are you one of us or are you merely a political appointee who is obliged to bow to big money and a family vendetta?”

  If Michaelson was offended by Paul’s words, as he had reason to be, it was not apparent. In fact, he seemed to dismiss Paul’s bitter comments with the casual disregard of a parent who is unwilling to acknowledge the demands of an angry child.

  “You’ll need to defend yourself,” he said. “That is not my responsibility. However, you do belong to the American Association of University Professors. They will probably assist in providing legal counsel for you. But before you walk down that road, there are some important questions you ought to resolve within your own mind. The Faircloughs are determined to destroy you, with or without a defense. They are out for blood, and before they’re finished with you, your name will have been dragged through the mud to such an extent that you’ll have no credibility here or anywhere else as a professional educator. You need to decide if you are willing to submit to that.”

  “And the alternative?” said Paul, warily.

  “Resign, and leave San Diego. Acknowledge that you’ve made some mistakes and go someplace where newspaper reporters and a sordid reputation won’t haunt you. I still have influence in the East and would be willing to open some doors for you.”

  Paul snapped back at the President. “Oh yes, I’m sure you’re deeply concerned about my personal welfare. And certainly your willingness to help salvage my career has nothing to do with worries about the effects of negative publicity on your own public image. Just whose hide are you trying to save here?”

  “You’re absolutely right,” said Michaelson, still unruffled. “You have become a liability to me and to the University, but you have also created a great problem for yourself. With a little objectivity on your part, I’m sure you’ll see that my recommendation is the best solution for both of us.”

  “You can skip all of that. I’m not interested in some safe passage into exile.”

  “Let me make myself absolutely clear, Dr. Kirkham. I am not merely trying to warn you of possible action against you. I’m telling you that the die has been cast and that the machinery has been set in place to disenfranchise you as a university professor. It seems to me that my offer is a magnanimous one. It would undoubtedly terminate the pending disciplinary action against you and at the same time it would preserve a future for you in higher education elsewhere.”

  “Let’s just ‘cut to the chase’ shall we? Tell me exactly how this Board of Inquiry will operate?” It was obvious that a quiet exit into the academic sunset would be highly unlikely in Paul’s case.

  The President continued in his ‘matter of fact’ manner. “The Trustees have appointed an attorney to represent them, and I have already spoken with the Chairman of the Board at some length about procedures we will be expected to follow. There will be a fact-finding period and during this time legal counsel on both sides will prepare for a formal hearing. That hearing will involve twelve faculty representatives or, as I said, a board of inquiry who will determine if there is ‘just cause’ to proceed with a complete review of evidence for or against your dismissal. After hearing all arguments and thoroughly evaluating the evidence they will act in an advisory capacity to the trustees with a formal report and recommendations for appropriate action.”

  Paul’s faculties were alive and his mind was racing ahead of what Michaelson had to say as his combative instincts went into full operation. It was obvious that neither references to disciplinary procedures nor the authority of the President’s office were intimidating to Paul. There was no humility in his bearing, nor did he have the slightest inclination to play the role of an obsequious underling.

  “And this Board of Inquiry,” said Paul with disdain, “who will the people be?”

  “My instructions are that the panel should not be comprised of department heads, but that it should be an impartial body of your peers representing the full spectrum of academic disciplines. Only one member is to be drawn from the Psychology Department. I’ve been asked to make these appointments within the next week and submit a list of names to the trustees.”

  “And who will you ask to represent the Psychology Department?”

  “I have asked Rex Hale to participate.”

  A look of disgust came over Paul’s countenance and half under his breath he said, “Why am I not surprised?” Despite the explosive anger that had welled up in him, Paul restrained its outward expression. There would be a time and a way for that!

  His unpleasant task completed, the President now added a final touch to the jarring message he had just delivered. “Naturally these unsavory realities will require the cancellation of the summer workshop you are preparing. I will notify Dr. Dykeman and other departments within the next few days. And now there is is one other thing you must know. You are undoubtedly aware that I h
ave been away from campus on University business – that business involved our working relationship with the National Educational Television Network and the instructional programs you have developed. They agree with me that it would be wise to discontinue the airing of this series. Neither N. E.T. nor the University can afford a public image that is sullied with scandal.”

  Paul’s fury finally spilled over, and he spoke in an angry, accusing voice. “Do you have no sense of fairness? Am I to be judged and condemned by rumor and innuendo?”

  “Dr. Kirkham, you have made a mess for all of us, especially for yourself. I am not responsible for that, nor do I have an obligation to protect you from the consequences of your actions. I’m afraid you’ll have to deal with all of that by yourself. But once again let me warn you that there are outside forces that will not rest until they have fully discredited you. I did not initiate this action, nor am I in a position to stop it. That said, I must confess that I do not like you, nor do I approve of your approach to education. I would welcome your removal from the University.

  “And now there is one final thing. The San Diego Tribune has contacted me about their intent to open this can of worms to public view and it seems that they have already had extensive contact with the Faircloughs. They plan to run a feature story within the next few days. In an effort to preserve the good name of the University I have agreed to cooperate with them.”