It’s unsettling to see so much unrest in an institution that has been dear to us. I watched a clip of a lot of tussling on the University of Missouri-Columbia campus at the time the university’s president, Tim Wolfe and a chancellor, R. Bowen Loftin, resigned their jobs in response to complaints by students at the mostly-white university.
The clincher, according to the media, came when some 30 black students threatened not to play in the Tigers’ football game against Brigham Young University. A boycott by the black athletes, which presumably would have forced the forfeiture of the game, would have cost Missouri a million dollars.
The athletes joined the boycott in response to complaints by other minorities at the campus who complained that complaints of racism were not being taken seriously by the upper administration at the 28,000-student university.
Disturbing also is the treatment of members of the press (yes, even the student press) by some of the protesters. An assistant professor in the mass media department seemed the most vocal in rallying fellow protestors against the press. (Does anyone get the irony here? The First Amendment is mostly about freedom of the press, and one of the school’s own faculty members leads the movement to physically remove a member of the press.) The young reporter, armed with a microphone, tried to explain his purpose and his presence.
But the crowd continued to shout him down. “You’re not welcome here!” some yelled. The faculty member, Melissa Click, kept asking “for some muscle here,” an attempt to fortify her stance. As best he could, the student reporter stood his ground against a sea of students who claimed the reporter was not welcome on a spot the protestors called their “safe place.”
The New York Times has reported that Click has since resigned her position with the journalism department at the school.
My interest in Missouri matters was piqued a few days earlier as the Missouri Magazine, sent to alumni, hinted at coming protests over the University president’s apparent indifference to matters that concern black students, who comprise about 10 percent of the student body. The university’s hometown, Columbia, is mostly white.
My involvement with the school, known for owning the first and possibly most prestigious journalism school in the nation, stems from my alumnus status; I earned a master’s degree from the popular J-School. But that was eons ago, and aside from my modest semi-annual donation to the school’s scholarship fund, and a visit to the campus a few years ago, I haven’t felt particularly strong connections to the institution. Almost all of the professors I studied under have passed away. Thirty-six years is a long time.
As I read this, I recalled a lecture by a stellar journalism professor, Keith Sanders, who told of a suggestion by a newly appointed member of the Missouri Board of Visitors (similar to a board of regents). The newcomer argued that having a 40,000-student university in the town of Columbia, with perhaps 40,000 at the time, wasn’t a good idea.
Apparently, he’d drawn up a plan to have the entire university transferred either to Kansas City or St. Louis. He mentioned that Columbia doubles in size during each home game, and in short, one of the bigger cities would be much more equipped to handle the crowds. Arrowhead Stadium, home of the Kansas City Chiefs, a professional team, is only a couple of hours away.
Sanders mentioned that within the confines of the Visitors’ conference room, all hell broke loose. “Just think of how much money our town, our restaurants and hotels would lose with such a move,” was an oft-repeated argument for supporting the status quo.
Statisticians for years had figured that just six home games for the Tigers brought in enough revenue to support many businesses for the entire year. Some homeowners rented rooms in their houses at inflated prices. And the amount of money forfeited in the years when the football team has only one fewer home game was mammoth.
One man’s effort to relocate the university to a larger Missouri city stirred up a host of Columbia residents and university supporters, but not before threats of violence, boycotts and withdrawal of financial support were expressed.
The university with the great journalism school will survive. But there’s bound to be a lot of residual damage because of the mob mentality bent on excluding the media. They drowned out anything the reporter tried to say by using inane chants and babble conjured up on the spot.
Sure, the assistant professor who called for “more muscle over here” may have won this round, in preventing the reporter from getting his story. But it was a pyrrhic victory, one that comes at too great a cost.
It’s a shame that one of the university’s own faculty members — ironically in the media department — would choose to lead the trumpet section against press freedom. But a positive aspect of the fiasco is that Melissa Click resigned her position in the journalism department.
Let’s hope ex-Prof. Click has learned that no individual can pick and choose which constitutional rights people need to follow.