'Seventh Muse' details Muse's time at AU

Dr. William Muse's new book details his time at Auburn University

Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, wrote Shakespeare. That would appear to be the case with university presidents, as well, judging from a quick perusal of Dr. William V. Muse's new book, "The Seventh Muse."

Muse was president of Auburn University for nearly 10 years, from 1992 to 2001, during a period when AU was wracked by dissent. After his tenure, a number of campus groups voted "no confidence" in the board of trustees, who were accused of inappropriate involvement in the university's day-to-day operations.

In 2003, after Muse's 2001 dismissal, the university's accrediting body put AU on one year's probation over the same issue. Probation was lifted in 2004.

Muse's painstaking memoir details a landscape that is a virtual minefield for those in the highest positions—and not just at Auburn. He describes similarly difficult situations at the University of Akron, where he was president for eight years before coming to Auburn, and at East Carolina University, where he went after leaving.

The chapter detailing Muse's time in Auburn, however, will be most interesting to a local audience. He starts the section with an account of a fire in the President's Mansion that necessitated Muse and his wife, Marlene, living in a small apartment for six months.

Muse then backtracks to describe the search and hiring process, explaining "being a candidate for another job while one is president of a university is a risky proposition."

He writes that the first interviews took place in Georgia to avoid Alabama's open meetings law and to keep candidates' names private.

Then-trustee Mike McCartney told Muse after two rounds of interviews that he had the job but would have to come to Auburn for a public interview and an open board meeting

The public interview went smoothly, and then Muse and his wife were escorted down the hall to wait.

"As it turned out, the wait took much longer. Dr. Leischuck (Gerald Leischuck, secretary to the board) kept going back and forth between the meeting and our room, looking worried but only reporting that the board was 'discussing some matters,'" Muse wrote.

Finally, Muse was announced as AU's 15th president. He found out several months later, that trustee Bobby Lowder asked to table the motion appointing Muse president, arguing the board needed to consider other candidates.

Muse speculated that his problems with the powerful Lowder in later years began at that point.

"The vote of the board...was an indication of the significance of the struggle that awaited me," Muse writes.

Muse started at Auburn on March 1, 1992. In short order, he eliminated the annual "Old South Parade," which he called a "powerful symbol of racial discord." He also confirmed former President Jim Martin's granting of a charter to a gay and lesbian student organization, dealt with a financial crisis and a continuing desegregation lawsuit, and addressed the fact that AU had been listed on the American Association of University Professors' censure list over the university's denial of tenure to a controversial professor of religion.

Muse arrived at Auburn just in time for an NCAA investigation—which he learned about on the television program "60 Minutes." He said he realized early on that Auburn was highly vulnerable because the head football coach, Pat Dye, was also the athletic director. Muse asked Dye to relinquish the position of AD and hired Mike Lude as AD from the University of Wyoming.

As the 1992 football year played out, Muse said, it became clear Dye was not going to lead the Tigers to a successful season. Two trustees—McCartney and Lowder—preemptively asked Dye to resign, causing Muse some concern and, he says, foreshadowing future problems.

It isn't possible to compress nearly 10 years of accomplishments and problems into a short review, but Muse moves meticulously through the hiring of Terry Bowden as the new football coach, the NCAA investigation, and trustee involvement in athletics.

"A subgroup of the board—specifically, the athletics committee—had firm control of athletics and did not plan to relinquish it," Muse writes.

The athletics committee never "officially" met. Meetings were not announced or open to others, and no minutes were kept. Lowder was always chair, with the other four members close to him and interested in sports. The meetings took place off campus.

Muse said he quickly learned all major decisions about athletics had to be taken to the committee, and he surmised Lowder was probably unofficial athletic director during the Dye years. Lude was asked to "counsel" directly with the committee, but refused.

The blow-by-blow descriptions of the firing of basketball coach Tommy Joe Eagles, the hiring of David Housel as AD, the resignation of Terry Bowden as football coach and the subsequent hiring of Tommy Tuberville cover territory that has long been discussed and scrutinized. Muse's point of view helps fill in gaps, however.

Muse devotes a long section to "the role and functioning of the board of trustees," and leaves little doubt that in his view trustees of that time overstepped bounds.

"There was no group at Auburn that produced as much heartburn for me nor as much fodder for controversy as the Board of Trustees," Muse writes. "Primarily a few individuals created these conditions but their influence was sufficient to create major distractions that eventually led to my departure."

Muse said he underestimated the importance of athletics to some trustees, and their willingness to exercise their perceived authority. He minces no words in saying that the two trustees who caused the most trouble were Lowder and state Sen. Lowell Barron, then president pro tem of the Alabama Senate.

And, Muse wrote, it didn't take him long to realize Lowder was the key player on the board. He said Lowder wielded power outside board meetings by lobbying other members with whom he had influence and by insuring the board's president pro tem was someone who would carry out his requests, Muse writes.

Muse goes on to give an insider's view of then-Gov. Fob James' efforts to replace Lowder on the board of trustees and the formation of a political action committee by alumni in an effort to weaken Lowder's and Barron's political power over AU.

One of the most disturbing anecdotes involves the "resignation" of Auburn University-Montgomery chancellor Roy Saigo, who reported to Muse. Lowder served as chair of the search committee when Saigo was hired and appointed Saigo as a director of his Montgomery bank to expand Saigo's involvement in the local business community.

When Lowder was off the board of trustees and the governor was trying unsuccessfully to install another trustee, a TV station interviewed Saigo. When asked, Saigo said something to the effect that the governor ought to be able to get his appointments confirmed by the Senate Confirmations Committee.

The next morning, Saigo was removed from the bank's board. Then, Muse writes, Saigo ran afoul of Barron when he refused to override a professor's decision to fail a student from Barron's district.

When Lowder was reappointed to the board by then-Gov. Don Siegelman, Muse writes, Lowder and Barron lobbied him to "get rid of Saigo."

Saigo's internal performance assessments were mixed, but Muse told trustees he did not think there were sufficient grounds to dismiss the AUM chancellor.

Privately, Muse told Saigo he ought to look for another job. In the meantime pressure from Lowder and Barron was unrelenting.

The fracas cost Muse dearly, the former AU president writes. By 1999, the terms of three trustees not part of the "Lowder coalition" had expired, with Siegelman filling the seats with people Muse says he considered Lowder loyalists.

Muse started looking at other jobs, and when trustees found out two of them asked him to resign. The same day Muse met with those trustees, an executive search firm contacted him about several other positions.

It is a measure of Muse's popularity—and Lowder's unpopularity—that the campus erupted when Muse's resignation was made official in March. Sadly, Muse's tenure at East Carolina University was equally troubled, though for different reasons.

Although Muse's book is hardly a can't-put-it-down thriller and will appeal to a limited audience, the former AU president has provided a valuable service by recording his activities and views during a very troubled time in Auburn University's history.

William Muse lived history, and we're thankful he took the time to record his view of that history.

Of course, his opponents don't have the chance to defend themselves in the pages of "The Seventh Muse"—but we hope that someday they'll take the time to do the same.

"The Seventh Muse" is available from www.iuniverse.com. Cost is $24.95.

February 27, 2009

‘Seventh Muse’ details Muse’s time at AU

Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, wrote Shakespeare. That would appear to be the case with university presidents, as well, judging from a quick perusal of Dr. William V. Muse’s new book, “The Seventh Muse.”

Muse was president of Auburn University for nearly 10 years, from 1992 to 2001, during a period when AU was wracked by dissent. After his tenure, a number of campus groups voted “no confidence” in the board of trustees, who were accused of inappropriate involvement in the university’s day-to-day operations.

In 2003, after Muse’s 2001 dismissal, the university’s accrediting body put AU on one year’s probation over the same issue. Probation was lifted in 2004.

Muse’s painstaking memoir details a landscape that is a virtual minefield for those in the highest positions—and not just at Auburn. He describes similarly difficult situations at the University of Akron, where he was president for eight years before coming to Auburn, and at East Carolina University, where he went after leaving.

The chapter detailing Muse’s time in Auburn, however, will be most interesting to a local audience. He starts the section with an account of a fire in the President’s Mansion that necessitated Muse and his wife, Marlene, living in a small apartment for six months.

Muse then backtracks to describe the search and hiring process, explaining “being a candidate for another job while one is president of a university is a risky proposition.”

He writes that the first interviews took place in Georgia to avoid Alabama’s open meetings law and to keep candidates’ names private.

Then-trustee Mike McCartney told Muse after two rounds of interviews that he had the job but would have to come to Auburn for a public interview and an open board meeting

The public interview went smoothly, and then Muse and his wife were escorted down the hall to wait.

“As it turned out, the wait took much longer. Dr. Leischuck (Gerald Leischuck, secretary to the board) kept going back and forth between the meeting and our room, looking worried but only reporting that the board was ‘discussing some matters,’” Muse wrote.

Finally, Muse was announced as AU’s 15th president. He found out several months later, that trustee Bobby Lowder asked to table the motion appointing Muse president, arguing the board needed to consider other candidates.

Muse speculated that his problems with the powerful Lowder in later years began at that point.

“The vote of the board…was an indication of the significance of the struggle that awaited me,” Muse writes.

Muse started at Auburn on March 1, 1992. In short order, he eliminated the annual “Old South Parade,” which he called a “powerful symbol of racial discord.” He also confirmed former President Jim Martin’s granting of a charter to a gay and lesbian student organization, dealt with a financial crisis and a continuing desegregation lawsuit, and addressed the fact that AU had been listed on the American Association of University Professors’ censure list over the university’s denial of tenure to a controversial professor of religion.

Muse arrived at Auburn just in time for an NCAA investigation—which he learned about on the television program “60 Minutes.” He said he realized early on that Auburn was highly vulnerable because the head football coach, Pat Dye, was also the athletic director. Muse asked Dye to relinquish the position of AD and hired Mike Lude as AD from the University of Wyoming.

As the 1992 football year played out, Muse said, it became clear Dye was not going to lead the Tigers to a successful season. Two trustees—McCartney and Lowder—preemptively asked Dye to resign, causing Muse some concern and, he says, foreshadowing future problems.

It isn’t possible to compress nearly 10 years of accomplishments and problems into a short review, but Muse moves meticulously through the hiring of Terry Bowden as the new football coach, the NCAA investigation, and trustee involvement in athletics.

“A subgroup of the board—specifically, the athletics committee—had firm control of athletics and did not plan to relinquish it,” Muse writes.

The athletics committee never “officially” met. Meetings were not announced or open to others, and no minutes were kept. Lowder was always chair, with the other four members close to him and interested in sports. The meetings took place off campus.

Muse said he quickly learned all major decisions about athletics had to be taken to the committee, and he surmised Lowder was probably unofficial athletic director during the Dye years. Lude was asked to “counsel” directly with the committee, but refused.

The blow-by-blow descriptions of the firing of basketball coach Tommy Joe Eagles, the hiring of David Housel as AD, the resignation of Terry Bowden as football coach and the subsequent hiring of Tommy Tuberville cover territory that has long been discussed and scrutinized. Muse’s point of view helps fill in gaps, however.

Muse devotes a long section to “the role and functioning of the board of trustees,” and leaves little doubt that in his view trustees of that time overstepped bounds.

“There was no group at Auburn that produced as much heartburn for me nor as much fodder for controversy as the Board of Trustees,” Muse writes. “Primarily a few individuals created these conditions but their influence was sufficient to create major distractions that eventually led to my departure.”

Muse said he underestimated the importance of athletics to some trustees, and their willingness to exercise their perceived authority. He minces no words in saying that the two trustees who caused the most trouble were Lowder and state Sen. Lowell Barron, then president pro tem of the Alabama Senate.

And, Muse wrote, it didn’t take him long to realize Lowder was the key player on the board. He said Lowder wielded power outside board meetings by lobbying other members with whom he had influence and by insuring the board’s president pro tem was someone who would carry out his requests, Muse writes.

Muse goes on to give an insider’s view of then-Gov. Fob James’ efforts to replace Lowder on the board of trustees and the formation of a political action committee by alumni in an effort to weaken Lowder’s and Barron’s political power over AU.

One of the most disturbing anecdotes involves the “resignation” of Auburn University-Montgomery chancellor Roy Saigo, who reported to Muse. Lowder served as chair of the search committee when Saigo was hired and appointed Saigo as a director of his Montgomery bank to expand Saigo’s involvement in the local business community.

When Lowder was off the board of trustees and the governor was trying unsuccessfully to install another trustee, a TV station interviewed Saigo. When asked, Saigo said something to the effect that the governor ought to be able to get his appointments confirmed by the Senate Confirmations Committee.

The next morning, Saigo was removed from the bank’s board. Then, Muse writes, Saigo ran afoul of Barron when he refused to override a professor’s decision to fail a student from Barron’s district.

When Lowder was reappointed to the board by then-Gov. Don Siegelman, Muse writes, Lowder and Barron lobbied him to “get rid of Saigo.”

Saigo’s internal performance assessments were mixed, but Muse told trustees he did not think there were sufficient grounds to dismiss the AUM chancellor.

Privately, Muse told Saigo he ought to look for another job. In the meantime pressure from Lowder and Barron was unrelenting.

The fracas cost Muse dearly, the former AU president writes. By 1999, the terms of three trustees not part of the “Lowder coalition” had expired, with Siegelman filling the seats with people Muse says he considered Lowder loyalists.

Muse started looking at other jobs, and when trustees found out two of them asked him to resign. The same day Muse met with those trustees, an executive search firm contacted him about several other positions.

It is a measure of Muse’s popularity—and Lowder’s unpopularity—that the campus erupted when Muse’s resignation was made official in March. Sadly, Muse’s tenure at East Carolina University was equally troubled, though for different reasons.

Although Muse’s book is hardly a can’t-put-it-down thriller and will appeal to a limited audience, the former AU president has provided a valuable service by recording his activities and views during a very troubled time in Auburn University’s history.

William Muse lived history, and we’re thankful he took the time to record his view of that history.

Of course, his opponents don’t have the chance to defend themselves in the pages of “The Seventh Muse”—but we hope that someday they’ll take the time to do the same.

“The Seventh Muse” is available from www.iuniverse.com. Cost is $24.95.