Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar by Gray Cavender (red scrolls of magic TXT) 📗

that she came in ‘loaded for bear,’ if you will. She didn’t just oppose his certificate, she was insulting about it.”

Jillian asked, “How so?”

“Well, for starters, she said that his proposed certificate included new courses that essentially were the same as existing courses he already taught. She even referred to his proposal as ‘Nevermore Studies’…like Poe’s raven…purposefully mispronouncing his name, and at the same time arguing that he was being redundant. Her entire demeanor was…it was as if she was trying to goad Ian into overreacting…which he did do.”

Wes leaned forward, “How exactly do you mean?”

“Well, she’d been standing as she addressed the committee, and soon Ian was standing, as well. They were facing one another so physically it looked like a confrontation. She literally punctuated her points by jabbing her finger at him…not actually touching, mind, but close to his upper chest. Like me, Ian is quite tall so she had to reach to accomplish this.”

Wes again, “And what did Professor Naremore do?”

“He didn’t do anything…it’s what he said, which was something to the effect that ‘if you keep poking at me, Nelda, I’m going to make you eat that digit.’ But, I must say that he said this with a great deal of verve.”

Jillian asked, “But he didn’t actually touch her?”

“He did not. I’d been seated by Ian at the meeting…he and I are friends. It was at that point that I also stood…partially inserting myself between them, and I told Ian that we needed to leave. I even said to him that she was trying to bait him into something…more. Without question, he was hot under the collar, but when I spoke, I think he realized that she was manipulating the situation…maybe even trying to generate some physical escalation from him.”

“When we spoke last night, you say that you and Ian were friends. Please remind me how that is.?

“Yes, Nin, my partner and I are friends with Ian and Russell, his partner. We occasionally get together…usually around music. As you know, I’m a music professor…as well as a musician, and we all enjoy going out to hear music.“

Wes pointed to some of the photos on Professor LeJohns’ walls. “That’s Esmeralda Spalding, right?”

“Yes…we’re both bassists.”

“And I believe that’s Ron Carter.”

“Right again…different era, but another bassist who I admire.”

Jillian said, “But then those other photos are of philharmonic orchestras.” She leaned forward to better see the captions. “New York and Arizona. I know that you teach the bass, but is it jazz or classical?”

“Both…I’m proud to say that I’ve performed several times with the New York Philharmonic, and I enjoy a continuing relationship with the Arizona Philharmonic. But, I’ve also been known to sit-in at The Nash—that’s a jazz club in Phoenix—and for gigs at a jazz series at The Tempe Center for the Arts.”

Jillian asked, “Isn’t that unusual…playing jazz and classical music? Do you teach both?”

“I supposed it is somewhat unusual, but yes, I play both genres…and teach both. With classical, it’s the upright bass…with jazz, it’s upright and electric.”

Wes volunteered, “For a long time, Wynton Marsalis played both jazz and classical music, although he eventually decided to focus just on jazz.”

“Right you are,” and smiled at Wes.

Wes nodded, then said, “But, I’d like to return to the committee meeting. When things were getting heated between the professors, what did the committee chair say or do?”

Professor LeJohns thought for a moment, then said, “Not much of anything…it’s as if he was just along for the ride. Now, Louisa Disis…she’s a different story, altogether. At first, even as she introduced Ian’s case, she was critical of his proposal…dinging him on the bureaucratic minutia. But her niggling criticisms seemed to play into the hands of Professor Siemens…it was like she was riffing on Disis’ barbs.”

Before she could speak, Wes asked, “Do you think they were in cahoots?”

“A possibility I suppose. Really, from my past interactions with her, I tend to think that’s just Louisa Disis’ style. By way of an example…although she was overly critical of Ian’s proposal, with an another, earlier proposal from Trev Mondel, she couldn’t gush over him enough even though his wasn’t really a completed job either. When someone on the committee noted that his proposal was less than complete, she said, ‘but we know Professor Mondel will put together a great set of courses.’ You see, Trev is a perennial player, and Disis green lighted his magnum opus to approval…a real apparatchik, that one.”

“This time…disdain, definitely,” Jillian thought.

LeJohns continued, “The other thing that annoys me is how someone like Louisa…or for that matter, anyone else on the committee, can have the temerity to criticize someone’s suggested readings…these are matters about which they know absolutely nothing, but they hold forth anyway.”

Wes let him finish his comments, then brought the interview back to the matter at hand. “I understand, Professor LeJohns. But, let me move us back to Professor Naremore and his interactions with Professor Siemens. Concluding remarks?”

He shrugged. “Without a doubt, Ian overreacted. But, she knew exactly how to push his buttons to get him to cross the line. I’m glad I could get him out of there.“

Wes and Jillian left Professor LeJohns office and walked back across campus…headed to lunch at the MU. As they walked, Wes said, “LeJohns…he reminds me of a heavier Greg Allman, or maybe one of the three musketeers, you know the hefty one in the really old movie…Porthos, was it? Any thoughts,” he asked and turned to Jillian.

“I think there actually were four musketeers, Wes, and as for Greg Allman, is he the guy who was married to Cher?”

“Greg Allman was a bit more than that…the Allman Brothers…no? I forget, Jilly, that you’re a ‘20-something.’ But by the way, I actually saw Jeff LeJohns performing…I didn’t remember till he was talking about some of his jazz gigs.”

“ReaIly…where?”

“Well, he said he’d been at Tempe Center for the Arts…TCA…that’s where I saw him. There was a flugelhorn player in from LA…named Jake…McNair…no…it was McSomething…McMillan, Jake McMillan.”

Wes nodded. “He was pretty good. But,