I was saddened this morning to learn of the untimely death of Bill Powers, former president of UT with whom I had the pleasure to serve for almost a decade. University presidents are a magnet for attention and criticism, and in the public realm have to navigate difficult waters involving lawmakers, donors, alumni, athletics, as well as their own faculty, staff and students. One wrong utterance and people stand ready to pounce, to label and to blame for all sorts of personal and professional failings. The job is relentless and often thankless, requiring long hours, sacrifices and a thick skin.
There will be formal obituaries and memorials, but when I think of Bill, I remember one particular instance above others that sums him up. When UT was being harangued (and there is no other word for it) by a legislature that showed limited understanding of how a great university should function, he was called before officials to explain our research mission. One interrogator took him to task for our apparent obsession with knowledge, and, in an effort to ridicule spending state funds on humanities scholars, asked him if the world really needs yet another paper on Shakespeare? Without missing a beat, Bill answered ‘Yes’.
In that simple answer, I learned a lot about the man leading our institution. He went on to explain how scholarship worked and how any one paper might eventually lead to understandings that change the world, but we might not realize it upon first publication. The full answer was correct but the short affirmative initially stumped the questioner and landed a blow for the faculty at a time when local officials seemed determined to turn us all into job-trainers and contract workers.
I had the pleasure of recounting that story to Bill when the deans held a private lunch to recognize his retirement. There are many other stories, some of which probably can’t be told in public, but they amount to the same. He loved UT, was fond of athletics, and yes, he liked a drink with his colleagues, but above all, he loved and lived for the intellectual freedom and great scholarship that a research university provides. I used to tell him he was not really a lawyer, he was a philosopher, and I believe it. His view of the university and its mission, the necessity of delivering on the social contract our organizations uphold, educated me as a dean and influences my thinking still. Thank you Bill. You leave a permanent mark on higher education.