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by Dr. Jeffrey Lant.
Author’s program note. “Professor” Harold Hill was broke, skinned, impecunious, the source of his very next meal dubious. But despite threadbare clothes and growling stomach he maintained one golden, unassailable asset: his unrivaled ability to dazzle people, motivate people, and arouse people through Big Ideas and a licketty-split presentation style unmatched anywhere on Earth. He knew that if he could excite the people, he could pick their pockets. And so, arriving at River City with nothing, he was undismayed… for he had the means readily at hand and perfectly honed to get everything… And this, as he walked confidently into the local pool hall, is precisely what he meant to do.
Thus was born one of the great moments of the cinema, when in the 1962 film “The Music Man” Meredeth Willson, as Hill, belts out the best example of fast-talking, wise-cracking, get up and at ‘em quintessentially American patter ever made. The speech is brilliant; the delivery astonishing, each word clear as a bell and utterly unmistakable, a rollicking tour de force leaving us breathless and in awe, and in possession of the certain knowledge that the good people of River City, the church-going, sober-living, tax-paying, civic-minded, gullible hicks haven’t got a chance against the determined genius of Hill and his mesmerizing, unbeatable “can-do” approach to any problem.
I shouldn’t be at all surprised if Evan S. Dobelle (born April 22, 1945) mentioned it was his favorite tune and that “Professor Hill” was his main source of inspiration. No, it wouldn’t surprise me at all.
“Friends, lemme tell you what I mean.”
The first time you look at Evan Dobelle’s resume you cannot help being impressed. But the second time you review it, if you scrutinize it carefully, you begin to see certain worrisome aspects. He was elected twice (1971 and 1975) as Republican mayor of Pittsfield, Massachusetts, a notable achievement which immediately established him as a player in perhaps the most Democratic state of the Union. Then he ditched the GOP to work for Jimmy Carter’s presidential campaign. He wanted fast promotion (he always did).
Having been a Republican until just 5 minutes ago, he wanted to be a power in the Democratic Party. But Timothy Kraft was in the way. No matter. The Wikipedia reports that Dobelle charged him with using cocaine in New Orleans (doesn’t everyone?) in 1978.
Kraft was forced to resign, clearing the way for the exigent Evan, who became National Chairman of the Carter-Mondale Presidential Committee. The charges against Kraft were later dropped but the damage was already done, whether by that you mean Kraft’s demise… or Dobelle’s ascent.
Carter, of course, won the election… and Dobelle got a hefty part of the bling: he became U.S. Chief of Protocol with the impressive rank of ambassador; (his wife Kit served as Chief of Protocol and Chief of Staff to First Lady Rosalynn Carter). Dobelle was also appointed treasurer of the Democratic National Committee. These were the glory days… Dobelle was everywhere…
He had everything necessary to scale the heights of power… yet he never did so. He knew everyone; everyone knew him. Maybe that was the reason real power eluded him. (Note. It was at this time that Dobelle took me on a tour of the White House, including a visit to the Oval Office, which like everyone else who sees it, I found smaller and less impressive in person. What was impressive, however, was how virtually everyone we encountered greeted Dobelle warmly, as an old friend. Yes, these were the salad days… and of course he dangled the prospect of a plum job in the Carter White house before me…)
“It takes judgement, brains, and maturity to score.”
It soon became obvious to the power cognoscenti that Dobelle, like Kansas City, had gone about as fur as he could go. Seasoned Washingtonians play this crucial game with withering skill; their acid judgements determine destinies. Dobelle failed to impress these oracles. So, his mind ever fertile and inventive, he changed course — again; this time he selected higher education administration as his designated bailiwick. And so his rather odd (and always short-termed) trajectory began.
First, from 1987-1990, he was president of Middlesex Community College in Lowell, Massachusetts. He stayed just long enough to get the library named after him, but not a minute longer. The irony here is that he was not a notable reader and has no scholarly work at all.
>From Lowell, he became president and chancellor of City College of San Francisco (1990-1995); president of Trinity College, Hartford, Connecticut (1995-2000), then the University of Hawaii (2001-2004).
Take a good close look at the dates of his administrative tenures, on average just about 4 years. Now, as any college administrator knows 4 years is grossly insufficient to effect major change. Thus Dobelle’s accomplishments were meagre, often merely cosmetic, never pace-setting, though he insisted that he was a visionary with the future lashed to his chariot. Maybe so, but to old college hands he came across as glib, superficial, impatient, and lazy; his bags already packed for quick get-away when the need for real leadership and major decision making and planning became glaringly apparent.
It all came to a head during his presidency at the University of Hawaii. There Dobelle ran through 5 chairmen of the board in a breathtaking 2 1/2 years, a situation not only unparalleled in Aloha’s paradise, but perhaps in all of higher education’s history. One food fight after another occurred, with Dobelle’s wanton spending habits and his disdain for the University’s trustees providing particular flash points. Finally the board had enough… and dismissed Dobelle “for cause.” Dobelle said he’d sue; the board blinked; a mediated settlement was the result, a settlement worth millions to Dobelle who, amongst other things, agreed he would never, ever apply for any other post at the University, something to which both sides happily subscribed.
Enter Westfield State College, Dobelle’s latest feeding trough.
People like Evan Dobelle, so generous, so profligate with Other People’s Money, so niggardly with their own funds, always need a host to feed on; all parasites do. And in Westfield, Massachusetts he found one tailor-made for his habits — and his expansive, unquenchable needs.
Brief history of Westfield State.
Located 45 miles from Hartford, 90 miles from Boston, Westfield’s main 256- acre campus is located in a well-tended, leafy neighborhood. It was founded in 1839 at the behest of and with the enthusiastic support of Horace Mann (1796- 1859), the premier educator of the Great Republic. He wanted Westfield to serve the needs of the Commonwealth, producing citizens who would be a credit to God, the republic, Massachusetts, its business and industry, and, of course, Westfield itself.
It was a noble objective… and on this basis the institution prospered, with the overwhelming majority of its graduates women who become the teachers that transformed immigrants into Americans.
It was crucial work and it was done thoroughly and well. Sadly, in a state where private institutions reigned supreme, public institutions like Westfield often felt undervalued and left behind. They often felt sorry for themselves, felt they should get more than the occasional pat on the head, always an afterthought.
They were thus positioned for their own Professor Hill. And this Evan Dobelle, with a catalog of dubious acts and lavish spending longer than Leporello’s (as reported by The Boston Globe, August 18, 2013), brought his specious and superficial visions, pulsating Big Ideas et al to Westfield, which despite a stadium of red flags flying appointed him president in December, 2008. The virgin was well and truly in Bluebeard’s experienced hands. He knew precisely what to do.
And he’ll have fun, fun, fun ’til…
In 1964, the Beach Boys had a hit on their hands entitled “And she’ll have fun, fun, fun ’til her daddy takes the car keys away.” The same applied to our Evan, only he had fun with a credit card the school’s private foundation gave him for charging dinners with potential donors and other small amounts. It was a big mistake since Dobelle never met a credit card he didn’t like, so long as he didn’t have to pay the bill.
In the fall of 2008, these bills started to come in and staid, respectable, rather dull Westfield State (soon to inflate its standing by calling itself a university) discovered what their popinjay was going to cost them… and their collective gasp of pocketbook pain and shocked disbelief rang out, for Bluebeard was having a helluva good time… all at their expense.
$539,201 on a “celebrity speakers series”… $145,000 on a group trip to Asia… $58,000 for a campus rock concert… $16,000 for a welcome party at a Brewster resort… $10,000 for Tanglewood tickets… and on and on and on. My personal favorite is the $939 bill he racked up taking three journalism students to New York to shake hands with Katie Couric and dine at Stage Deli and fabled 21. He wanted them to have the full “Queen for a Day” treatment. Oh, yes, they were all female and, I’ll bet, cuties, each lovier — and younger — than the last.
There was no stopping this born again teenager.. . he thought it, he wanted it, he got it… especially if it took him away from the institution he was supposed to be administrating; (78 out-of-state trips in his 68 months as president)… and, of course, he charged it.
How could he get away with it? The same way Professor Hill succeeded… by enthusing, smoozing, taking their minds off their troubles and the merely necessary and lifting them with the Big Dreams… the dreams he never stayed around long enough to achieve. Dreams were fun… work for hicks… the hicks who paid all his outrageous bills, long-suffering, decent, fleeced, regretful, now exposed to the entire world as the bumpkins they were afraid from the get-go people would adjudge them.
As for Dobelle, this time his gig is surely up as his twin Nemeses, the state’s attorney general and inspector general, fueled by leaks from his office, gather their forces, prepared to pick up every rock to see which of Dobelle’s schemes, chicaneries, plots, stratagems, tactics, hustles, extravagances, and ploys is underneath . It should be most instructive for all… not least for the next institution of higher learning which has the bright idea of gambling their future on appalling, unrestrained, irresponsible, fritterin’ Dobelle, never guilty, always innocent, soon to be available to eat at your fine trough.
About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is the author of several books, ebooks, and over one thousand online articles both fiction and non-fiction. Republished with author’s permission by Howard Martell <a href=”http://HomeProfitCoach.com”>http://HomeProfitCoach.com</a>. Check out 5 Figure Day ->
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