Lens
A
view of Emory from Professor Richard Freer
The Academic Exchange invited Professor of Law Richard Freer
to join writer Faye Goolrick and cartoonist Paige Braddock one
chilly January morning in Freer's Gambrell Hall office to discuss
his perceptions of Emory. The writer and cartoonist asked him
questions such as, What does he consider the center of campus?
Who does he talk to every day? Where does he go for lunch? When
he has a meeting across campus, how does he get there? From that
interview comes the following essay.
For future issues, we would like to seek out other Emory faculty
members willing to talk to our writer and cartoonist. Please
contact the managing editor if you're interested in learning
more about this opportunity.
Where do I go on campus everyday? The law school. That's usually
it. We are our own self-contained world here, so we run the risk
of being quite isolated. Unless you get involved in the [University]
Senate, the Faculty Council, committees, and so forth--which
I am--you can live here for decades and not see the other side
of Clifton Road. Sad but true. Somebody asked me if I'd ever
been to Tarbutton Hall. What is Tarbutton Hall? I've no idea.
I'm doing well if I find Bowden Hall.
There's no question, though, that one of the biggest things that's
changed in the last few years is Clifton Road is not the barrier
it once was. It used to be kind of like the Berlin Wall, you
know-and now the wall is down. We sense that we're part of the
mission, more integrated into the life of the university. Another
big change through the years is the incredible national recognition
for Emory. Lots of my California friends want to send their kids
here now.
It's odd to me that what comes to mind when I think of Emory
is not the law school itself, but the Quad--the center of campus.
I walk across the Quad to go see my good friend Harriet [King],
and to go to various committee meetings and faculty and senate
meetings and the like. The Quad is such a lovely place. I see
folks walking around, students sitting and chatting, and you
always see somebody trying to teach a class outdoors. It never
works. First of all, the grass is wet and it's going to soak
through your pants, and second of all, nobody's paying attention.
An airplane goes over, and they can't hear you. And they can't
take notes. But still, it's a great undergraduate thing to do.
. . . 'Wow, we had class on the Quad!' Of course, I really have
nothing to do with the Quad. The law school had long since moved
across Clifton by the time I got here in 1983.
One of the most interesting things that ever happened to me on
campus was one day in 1987, the phone rang in my office, and
someone asked me if I could join the president for lunch. I'd
just been tenured, so I assumed this meant Jim Laney. Turns out
it was Jimmy Carter! I got there and thought, "Oh, that
president!" It was just great. President Carter invited
three or four faculty members from all different disciplines--theology,
business, philosophy--to the president's dining room in the DUC.
We were there for two hours. Somebody had briefed him on us,
he knew our backgrounds, he knew I was from California. He knew
what I taught, and he knew my law firm had represented Ronald
Reagan. He spent two hours listening to us and chatting. It was
fabulous.
Talking about this makes me think of another campus highlight
for me: two years ago, Henry Aaron got an honorary degree at
Commencement, and I got to sit with him for about half an hour
before the ceremony. Of course we talked baseball! I'm a university
marshal, so I get a front row seat for graduation, and I get
to see people like Hank Aaron and the Dalai Lama. Sure beats
hanging around here talking to Tom Arthur.
I'm on campus five days a week . . . although now, with voice
mail and being able to access e-mail from the house, each faculty
member can be an island unto himself or herself, much more than
before. You don't need to be in the library; you have it online.
You don't need to talk to all your colleagues; you e-mail them
from home, sometimes at two or three o'clock in the morning.
In some ways, this is wonderful, but I think, too, that sometimes
it costs us collegiality. I do tend to do my major writing at
home.
On days when I'm not teaching, I wear casual stuff-khaki pants
and jeans, a sweater. When I'm teaching-that's usually Monday,
Wednesday, Friday-I'll wear a coat and tie, but I never wear
the coat in the classroom. I've never, never taught a single
class with the coat on; I leave it hanging up in here. Students
seem to notice what profs wear. They tell me I always wear a
blue-and-white striped, Oxford-cloth, button-down shirt and a
tie with a lot of red in it. I guess I wish they paid that much
attention to the book.
Lunch is always here, in my office, between my eleven o'clock
and one o'clock classes. I usually run into the faculty lounge
and get a cup o' joe about ten minutes before class and say 'Hi'
to my buddies, but that's about it. I'll bet I haven't been off
campus for lunch three times in ten years.
If I could change one thing about Emory, here's what I'd do:
On a freezing day like this, I'd move the whole campus to San
Diego, where I'm from. I never saw snow fall until I moved here.
My wife grew up in Honolulu, and when we came here, that first
November was the coldest we'd ever been. I remember being on
the elevator with some students who were obviously from the North,
and they were going on and on and on about how gorgeous the weather
was-how warm it was. I knew then we had made a serious change
in our lives. We had lived right on the ocean, and I don't ever
remember it being under fifty degrees.
Yet when I look out my office window here in Atlanta in the morning,
the sun is right in my eyes. And I always see the trees. It's
so green. Where I grew up, in Southern California, we don't have
trees, and we don't have green. My office looks out on North
Decatur Road, so I don't see rest of the campus at all. I see
a civilian world out there, except for the occasional jaywalking
student. I always watch to make sure he or she makes it across.
Might be one of mine.
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