From Rachel Toor
In Nina Totenberg's recent memoir, she uses her close relationship with Ruth Bader Ginsberg (long before she became the Notorious RBG) to discuss friendship in general and what it was like to be the first women in certain roles.
Totenburg's friendships with Ginsberg and other Supremes allowed her access to information that could have been big news had she chosen to break confidences. Hard-nosed journalists trashed Totenberg for not privileging her job over her life.
While I get the conflict, I also understand that leaders, including (some) Supreme Court justices, are human. I get the need to talk shop with friends who understand how lonely certain roles can be.
We hear a lot (at least I do) about the isolatation presidents and chancellors feel in the top job. Many former leaders are even lonelier after they clear out their spacious office and realize "friends" only wanted to speak with the president.
The relationship between journalists and those they report on can be more complex than many would like to admit. When we're being honest and allowing our egos to take a hit, writers know folks reach out to us because they have a story they want told, not because they enjoy our sparkling wit.
And, as Janet Malcolm so pointedly reminded us, subjects find it easy to forget that reporters aren't there to take their side. It gets messy because we are all human (at least until the bots take over).
When Doug Lederman approached me last spring about doing a newsletter for leaders, I knew I didn't know enough to offer anything substantive. Who would provide the content?
Throughout the summer, we had hours of phone calls while walking our dogs on opposite sides of the country, during which I wailed that the whole thing seemed impossible.
Doug: "It will come."
Me: "Passive voice! That's like saying the rain will fall! What busy president is going to make time to talk to me, and then write for no money, no credit, and no institutional promotion?"
Doug: "It will come. Truro, please stop barking, pup."
Me: "Easy for you to say, buddy boy. Yikes! Squirrel!"
Doug: [laughs]
Me: "Everyone already knows you. I got nothin'. This is going to fail! Good thing I have a day job as a professor. Harry, don't pee on those flowers!"
But, as I tell my work wife at least a few times a week when I am overwhelmed with gratitude to the people who have trusted me with their confidences, he was right. We are now in the enviable position of having a backlog of submissions. Please keep them coming. Email me your thoughts/suggestions/healthy snack recs.
As you know if you've been reading, The Sandbox is doing something different than the important work of journalism. Our mission is explicitly to support those doing the work of leading in higher ed; we're here to listen and to let you—though with a heavy editorial hand to preserve and protect anonymity (and guard against flag-waving)—tell your (authentic) stories.