If I Had a Hammer

  “If I had a hammer

I'd hammer out danger
I'd hammer out a warning
I'd hammer out love between my brothers and my sisters
All over this land”

         “If I Had a Hammer,” Lee Hays and Pete Seeger

In “From Cotton Fields to University Leadership: All Eyes on Charlie” by Charlie Nelms the chapter on Nelms’s six years as an IU Northwest administrator between 1978 and 1984 is titled “If I Had a Hammer.”  Nelms is a self-described a county guy from the Arkansas Delta and former marine who benefitted from numerous mentors during a distinguished academic career.  One of these was IUPUI Dean of Faculties Jack Buhner, who during the 1960s had run IUN’s Gary campus.  Nelms completed an Indiana University PhD dissertation while working as a Lilly Endowment fellow in Buhner’s office. Partly through Buhner’s influence Nelms was offered the position of director of University Division at IUN.  His efforts to find decent housing were so frustrating he initially stayed only a few months, explaining:

 I had no idea of just how racially segregated communities were in northwest Indiana.  I quickly discovered that Blacks were restricted to overwhelmingly Black neighborhoods dominated by substandard housing.  My wife Jeanetta and I were not prepared for the blatant racism we encountered in our housing search.  Upon finding something we liked, we’d telephone only to be told that it had been rented earlier that day.

 Jack Buhner with Hertha Taylor in 2015

In frustration Nelms accepted a position at the University of Arkansas in Pine Bluff, his undergraduate alma mater. When that job proved disappointing, he called IUN Dean of Students Bob Morris, who arranged for him to be appointed head of University Division beginning June 30, 1978.  This time he found satisfactory housing at the Mansards Apartments in Griffith, which he described as a “relatively new and overwhelmingly White tennis community approximately a 15-minute drive from the university.”  Owner-developer James Dye later became a mentor to Nelms as an IU Trustee.  Charlie wrote that he and Jeanetta never had a moment of trouble at the Mansards, and while training for the Chicago Marathon, Nelms “became a familiar face on the streets of the all-White towns, hamlets, and villages of northwest Indiana.”

Nelms described Gary was a “gritty, working-class city”that underwent white flight, especially after the election of Richard Hatcher as mayor in 1967.  Noting how polluted the area was, Nelms cited the work D.C. Richardson did with the Gary Board of Health to “hold the EPA’s feet to the fire”and enforce anti-pollution standards.

Much like Jack Buhner, Dean of Students Bob Morris, who had come to IUN two years before, was, according to Nelms, “a thoughtful and politically liberal man” and a“passionate, authentic, and caring supervisor.”  During Morris’s tenure, in addition to Nelms, African Americans rose to leadership positions in Admissions (Bill Lee), Financial Aid (Leroy Gray), and University Division (Ernest Smith). Unfortunately, Morris bumped heads with Dean of Academic Affairs Marion Mochon, whom Nelms described accurately as “a chain-smoking cultural anthropologist [whose] personal skills left a lot to be desired.”Determined to get rid of Morris, she first cut his budget and then hatched a scheme to combine Academic Affairs and Student Services and replace Morris with an associate dean. Just three months after Charlie’s arrival on campus, Chancellor Danilo Orescanin offered him the new position on Mochon’s recommendation.  Though asked to keep the offer confidential, Nelms, reluctant to betray Morris, consulted with him.  Nelms wrote:

 Bob assured me he knew something was brewing and that I was not part of the move to oust him. A consummate professional with real class, Bob told me that he was prepared to do everything possible to help me succeed in my new role. Thankfully, Bob got a respectable severance package. And a good job 4 months after leaving IUN.  Two years later, still in his early fifties, Bob [a chain smoker and coke drinker] died of lung cancer.

Not long after Morris’s departure, Marion Mochon was dead and Dan Orescanin had accepted a position in Bloomington. Meanwhile, in addition to his university duties, which included teaching a class each semester, usually Introduction to Psychology, Nelms accepted offers to serve as president of the local Urban League’s Board of Directors, member of the Gary school board, and on the Post-Tribuneadvisory board. Once he was offered $2,000 by a bus company hoping for a lucrative contract with the school city. He angrily turned the bribe attempt down and wrote: 

 Two years afterwards, I was subpoenaed by a Lake County grand jury to testify about alleged graft and contract kickbacks within the Gary School Corporation.  Words cannot convey how happy I was to testify that I had not been a part of any kickback schemes.  As the questioning proceeded, it became increasingly clear that Mayor [Richard] Hatcher was the real target of their inquiry.

Throughout the 1980s during the Ronald Reagan administration there was a persistent effort to indict Black mayors. Hatcher emerged unscathed in spite of the harassment.

I recall Charlie Nelms as a friendly, confident guy who preferred to rule with a velvet glove rather than an iron fist.  We both served as Student Activities Fund Trustees, charged with approving money for student proposals, some of which seemed ill-advised and too costly. In one case student hired a rock group, the Romantics, to put on a concert and then learned it couldn’t be held in the auditorium, so it took place on the campus of Valparaiso University.  Charlie tried to curb wasteful spending while my view was that, within reason, student input should prevail. Despite his efforts to reach consensus, he clearly intended to rein in many proposals.

While researching a history of IUN I interviewed Director of Admissions Bill lee and Barbara Cope, who went on to become Dean of Student Services.  Bill recalled:“Charlie Nelms reminded you of a good social workler.  He could get you to see if you made a mistake without browbeating you.”  Barbara recalled:

 I was on the committee that hired Charlie Nelms.  The evening before we were to interview him, Kathy Malone and I were working late, and this bearded guy in a sports shirt walked in asking all sorts of questions. We thought he was a prospective student and got him brochures and answered his inquiries.  The next day there he was in his suit and tie.  When I did a double take, he laughed.  Charlie was quite charming and very effective in giving people little hints to go out and do what he wanted.  He wrote beautifully and was an excellent speaker. He liked my patient style and level of awareness in dealing with our wide diversity of students.

Despite his myriad administrative and community activities and popularity with students and staff, Nelms ran into trouble from the so-called “Old Boys” network when he went up for promotion and tenure.  As he put it, most faculty on the Promotion and Tenure Committee “had a very traditional and narrow view of the requirements” plus “some members held it against me that I was an administrator.”  Even so, by narrow margins, both the Education Division and the Promotion and Tenure Committee voted in his favor.  Mochon’s replacement as Dean of Academic Affairs, George Dahlgren, whom without mentioning him by name Nelms branded a closet racist and sexist, suggested he resign and seek another position elsewhere. Acting Chancellor Peggy Elliott offered a compromise that would allow him to retain his administrative post while resigning his academic position.  Nelms described his reaction:

 I said, “Chancellor, my record is equal to or greater than most of my colleagues in the Division of Education.  I feel I have earned the right to be promoted and tenured.  I have a four-year-old son.  I don’t ever want to look at him and say I took the easy way out by resigning rather than do what I thought was right.  So you do what you feel you need to do, and I’ll do what I need to do.”

Instead Nelms accepted a position at Sinclair Community College in Dayton. Having recently served as an ACE Fellow in Bloomington, Nelms was popular within the IU hierarchy and within three years was offered the chancellorship at IU East. Thankful that IU President Tom Ehrlich had confidence in “a country guy from the Arkansas Delta,” he referenced “If I Had a Hammer” and wrote: “We used our voices, energy, and action to hammer out the dangers of ignorance and hate – and to hammer in love and justice for people from all walks of life.”

 Charlie Nelms, Justice John Roberts, Kwesi Aggrey

Nelms valued research to the extent that it was useful for framing and articulating a rationale for change but admitted having little interest in becoming “an extensively cited academic scholar . . . attending national meetings and listening to scholars read academic papers to each other.”  He added: “Hell, I felt that America was in dire need of transformation with respect to racial equity and equality, and I wanted to do my part to change thing now, not 50 years from now.”

Looking back on his brief time at IUN, Nelms noted than when he arrived, Black enrollment was 23% of the student population.  In 2016 it has declined to 17%.  He added:

  Similarly, the number of Black faculty remains meager, in no way reflecting the city’s population, and there are no Black members of the university’s executive leadership team. These realities stand in contrast to an era when the campus enjoyed a Black female chancellor (Hilda Richards) as well as a Black vice chancellor (Kwesi Aggrey), dean (F.C. Richardson), and several senior administrative employees.

There are several reasons for the decline of Black student enrollment, including fewer Gary high school graduates, scholarships at campuses away from home for college bound seniors, and competition from Purdue Northwest and IVY Tech.  Regarding Black faculty, the reasons are less clear but the shabby treatment of Vice Chancellors Kwesi Aggrey and Mark McPhail played a not insignificant role.

Nelms mentions Dr. Lynn Merritt, a nationally acclaimed chemist who, after retiring after as dean of IU’s graduate school, was a troubleshooter at IUN, serving in various capacities as department chair and dean.  It was Merritt who told him that people in Bloomington had their eye on him for a future leadership position.  Merritt was a rather mysterious presence on campus whom I regarded as Bloomington eyes and ears, assessing administrators from the chancellor on down

Cool Dude

“A generous heart, kind speech, and a life of service and compassion are the things which renew humanity,” attributed to Buddha

The headline of a Northwest News announcement read: IU Northwest mourns the loss of Garrett Cope.  Steve McShane called him a charmer with a heart of gold.  Ellen Szarleta said he was passionate in his dedication to the community outreach programs that he directed, such as Kids College, Senior College, and Glen Park Conversation.  Labeling him an icon, longtime friend Anne Thompson recalled: “He could sing and dance and direct.  He was a tremendous costume designer.  He could build sets.  He knew everything there was to know about theater.”

It was with a heavy heart that I drove to Manuel Funeral Home in downtown Gary to pay my respects to one of the coolest dudes I have had the pleasure to know.  Walking into the room containing Garrett’s open casket, I hardly recognized my dear friend, who had grown a mustache, neatly trimmed for this final viewing.  Chatting with son Michael was Carol Federenko, effusive in relating how influential Garrett had been on her development in theater.  I mentioned that my sons had been in three of Garrett’s summer musicals in the mid-70s.  “Which ones?” Carol asked.  When I answered, “Finian’s Rainbow,” she said she had played the mute girl Susan.  She’d also been in “Hello Dolly” with them.  In the background was the voice of Garrett singing Broadway songs.  We have the same CD at home and once attended Garrett’s one-man show, accompanied by Mrs. Tatum on piano, at a Merrillville club.  As I was leaving, I ran into Robert Buggs and Donald Young.  Buggs worked for Labor Studies and Young was a campus police officer, “A” student of mine, and excellent photographer.  Both knew what a vital link Garrett was to the Gary community.

Friday at St. Augustine’s Episcopal Church on Gary’s West Side, along with the funeral service program ushers handed out a beautiful booklet entitled “In Loving Memory of Garrett Livingston Cope.” It included a brief biography and photos showing him at all ages, including several in costume as a performer.  In the pew in front of us were former administrators F.C. Richardson and Bill Lee.  Rick Hug, Steve McShane, John and Lillian Attinasi, former chancellor Hilda Richards, and Chancellor Lowe were also in attendance.  Michael spoke of moving his family back to Gary a few years ago to be close to his parents.  Garrett Cope, Jr., saying he’d once been an Episcopal acolyte but was now a Buddhist, made some wise and inspiring remarks about the meaning of life.  He and a saxophonist played a spiritual during communion.  Afterwards, Father David Hyndman, one of three priests taking part in the service, told me he had Christ Church records dating back a hundred years, including letters from Judge Elbert H. Gary, for the Archives.

During a repast luncheon at IU Northwest I told Delores Rice that Marianne Milich hoped her story in the Post-Trib would inspire nontraditional students to attend college just as Delores had influenced her.  Soon afterwards, Marianne caught sight of Delores, and the two embraced.  Barbara asked Kathy Malone read a letter from former chancellor Peggy Elliott that referred to Garrett as a cornerstone of the university.  About a dozen folks spoke of how affectionate and caring he was and various nicknames he’d given them, including “Pretty Lady” and, in my case, “Jim-Bob.” Several expressed the hope that Glen Park Conversation and Senior College would continue, even though it would not be the same without him.  The program ended with Aaron Pigors’s short documentary about the “Spirit of Tamarack Hall,” first shown last year at a ceremony where the contents of a copper box found in the cornerstone of Gary Main were opened, after IUN’s first building was razed.  Lori Montalbano and I were in it, but Garrett, eloquent and dapper in an IU polo shirt, was the star.  He was with the university for nearly a half-century, and many of us already sorely miss him.

Our 71 year-old neighbor Sue Harrison passed away two nights ago. Noticing fiancé Dave huddled with her son Wes, I suspected that’s what had happened.  She’d been in the hospital for weeks and the news recently had been grim.  At midnight the family contacted a priest, who arrived within a half hour and administered last rites.  Dave said a Buddhist prayer and wished that somehow he could have taken her home to see “her girls” (their two Yorkie puppies) one final time.  We had him over for a couple beers, and Toni put together a plate of shrimp and sauce for me to take to the daughter and two sons who had arrived (two others are on their way).

The latest American Historical Review contains Christopher Manning’s critique of George Derek Musgrove’s “Rumor, Repression, and Racial Politics: How the Harassment of Black Elected Officials Shaped Post-Civil Rights America.” Between 1968 and 1992 Republicans, who controlled the executive branch of government for all but four years, scrutinized African-American officeholders to a degree that constituted harassment.  In a chapter entitled “Prosecution as Political Warfare in the Reagan and Bush Years,”  Using startling statistics, Musgrove points out that the Justice Department targeted black elected officials much more zealously than whites and authorized the FBI to launch sting operations based solely on rumors, ignoring procedural safeguards and hounding suspects, such as Washing DC mayor Marion Barry, until they cracked.  Gary mayor Richard Hatcher survived countless investigations, and the harassment left their scars.  House Republicans are going after Obama with similar relish, playing to their racist base, attempting to elevate an IRS investigation of Tea Party front groups seeking tax exemption to the level of Watergate.  FOX news has referred to Benghazi, the IRS affair, and the investigation of Associated Press phone numbers in connection with national security leaks as the “trio of Obama administration scandals.”

American History Review contributor Jennifer Evans examined the erotic photography of Herbert Tobias, who’d pick up “rent boys” such as West berliner Manfred Schubert (above, shot in 1955) and take “trophy photos” of his conquests.  In illustrating this account of “queer desire,” the journal used a couple dozen photos, some quite erotic, but none showing frontal nudity.  Once considered pornography, erotic photographs, Evans argues, “create a much-needed space for historicizing the productive role and potential of desire, opening up ‘new acts of seeing’ the past, politically, aesthetically, as well as emotionally.”  To her Tobias was a liberating hero, “providing same-sex desiring men a palette of visual pleasures with which to reaffirm their sense of self, while animating (and therefore legitimizing) their own fantasies, longings, and desires in the process.”  There was a time when I’d have scoffed at such pretentiousness.  Now I’m not certain what to make of Herbert Tobias’s place in history.  Perhaps previous generations were negligent not to have followed Alfred Kinsey’s advice and delved further into matters of sex.

Tennis season is over for Coach Dave, but it's on to Senior Week, and he is senior class adviser.

Niece Lisa’s son Oliver volunteered to be the "shopper" for his weekend Boy Scout camping trip. She noted: “He and the boys in his patrol selected this fine menu of Doritos, donuts, and honey buns.  Nutella sandwiches, and hot dogs are the healthier items they will be surviving on this weekend. I'm sure it will be heaven for them, but I am grossed out by this shopping cart.”

While an IUN student Mike Certa frequently took the bus from his home in Brunswick to the university, transferring at Fourth or Fifth and Broadway. One night in 1964 the bus taking him home stopped at Seventh Avenue because Lytton’s, Gary’s premier department store, was on fire.  Mike wrote: “I got off and started walking to Fourth Avenue.  As I did, I saw all of the fire trucks and emergency vehicles by Fifth Avenue.  As I got closer, I could see the flames coming out of the upper windows of Lytton’s.  It turned out to be a total loss.  Despite some brave words in the next day’s paper about reopening in Gary, it never did.” Another time she struck up a conversation with a girl named Leslie across who had quit school at age 15 when pregnant.  He recalled: “She was on the bus alone because she had a dental appointment and her mom was taking care of her kids.  As often happened, our bus was stopped at Bridge Street and Fifth Avenue for a train.  We chatted for a while, but as time wore on, we started running out of things to say.  We sat there in silence for what seemed like a long time.  Finally, she turned to me with a big smile and said brightly, ‘Isn’t this a long choo-choo?’”  What a sweet memory.  Where is Leslie now, one wonders.  A single mom’s life is a rough one, then as well as now.

My condo neighbors and I are worried about Dave.  Since Sue Harrison died, he isn’t eating and appears to be chain-smoking, something he’d given up.  Mike’s young son Josh loved seeing him walking the two Yorkies and gave him the nickname “Cool Dude.”  Recently Dave and the dogs passed the pre-school where Josh goes, and kids in the playground spotted them.  Following Josh’s lead, the others now also call him Cool Dude.

Frank Bertucci died at age 85.  He served in the navy during the Korean War, worked at U.S. Steel for many years, and was very active in the Portage Little League.  He was an OK guy, but my first encounter with him was rather unpleasant.  Dave was the pitcher on a team of eight year-olds, and when the umpire failed to show up his coach, the league president, drafted me in his stead despite my protestations.  Bertucci was coach of the other team and when he got wind that my son was on the mound, he started razzing me.  The worst was when a kid on Dave’s team ducked to avoid an inside pitch.  Technically he probably broke his wrists (that’s what Bertucci asserted) but clearly he was just rather awkwardly protecting himself.  Bertucci never let me forget that “bum call.”