SPECIAL REPORT SMU’s $350 Million GAMBLE

Southern Methodist University is betting on an ambitious plan to rebuild-and on an ambitious man to make it happen.

S MU WAS ONCE THE COLLEGE OF CHOICE for Dallas, (he small school (hat served a small city. But as the city grew. Dallas and SMU grew apart. The campus in the heart of the city seemed far removed from it. Until now. Until SMU launched a new claim to be the university Dallas needs. Until the school launched a major fund-raising campaign. Until the Dallas business community began to buzz about SMU’s aspirations. Invited by SMU, I) Magazine sought an explanation: What has been the turnabout in attitude at SMU? And what does it mean for the future of the city?



THE CRISIS: Seeking a new leader

ON JUNE 19, I994,SMUPRESIDENTA.KENNETH PYE, troubled by a cough that wouldn’t go away, went to his doctor expecting a prescription and a handshake. Instead, he was met at the door by a team of five physicians. They told him he had cancer-again.

Less than a year earlier, Pye had undergone surgery for esophageal cancer, and because it was detected so early, his chances for recover) were favorable. This newly discovered cancer, unrelated to the one found in his esophagus, had spread through his liver and kidneys. The prognosis this time was terminal. His death was imminent.

Oilman Ray Hunt was in Ireland when he checked with his office. Pye had left a concise message and asked Hunt to call him as soon as possible. When they spoke, Pye gave Hunt the full report, calmly repealing facts that he had received from the doctors the day before.

Hunt returned from overseas the next day-a Sunday-and went to Pye’s house. They met first and foremost as friends, not as university president and trustee. Hunt, after all. had recruited Pye in the dark days of the late ’80s, after athletic sanctions had sullied SMU’s reputation. Together they had battled to pull the university together, developing what Hunt calls a “foxhole in Europe” kind of relationship, referencing the bonds between WWII soldiers.

Hunt and the new board came to revere Pye. He had worked tirelessly to re-establish the integrity of the university, both in academics and in athletics. Pye began diversifying the reputedly elitist institution and raised new money for endowments and financial Bid. He burnished SMU’s tarnished image nationally. Perhaps most important, he resolved internal problems that had stymied the university’s development. With the help of Hunt and others, he halved the board’s size and increased its effectiveness. The good old boys who had misunderstood and mismanaged the university for decades were out-for good.

That Sunday at Pye’s house. Hunt and Pye were later joined by Bob Dedman, who had succeeded Hunt as the new board chairman. The three of them hashed through as much information they could in as little time as possible. Hunt and Dedman wanted to relieve Pye of all responsibilities so that he could concentrate on his family, on the things that mattered. Pye would be dead less than a month later.

Dedman and Hunt began the urgent process of notifying the school’s officers and board members of Pye’s prognosis. Pye’s major anxiety was who could succeed him. The two promised to make that their top priority. Late that same night, at 11 p.m.. Hunt tracked down trustee Jerry Junkins, who was in Washington, D.C., and asked him to chair the search committee. Hunt didn’t want to do it himself, because he had been instrumental in recruiting Pye, and the new situation called for a wholly new approach.

Junkins had to think about it overnight. His plate was already full. Being the CEO of Texas Instruments isn’t exactly a part-time job. Besides, he was leading TI through a comeback of its own. On the other hand, Junkins was chairman of a company co-founded by the legendary Erik Jonsson, the Jonsson who extolled education, the Jonsson who proclaimed the importance of the intellect to a city, the Jonsson who personally funded countless educational ventures. Even though the timing was terrible, Junkins agreed to chair the committee. Hunt spent a Saturday afternoon with him, explained how he went about the search for Pye, but encouraged Junkins to go about il his own way.

Hunt did suggest the services of education headhunter Bill Funk. Pye had considered Funk not only the best academic recruiter in the nation but also a friend, The two had developed their relationship over the years as Pye had contacted Funk for assistance on searches at SMU. and Funk contacted Pye for advice on searches done elsewhere. Funk remembers fondly 15-minute consultations turning into two-hour conversations.

A couple of years before SMU’s new search began, R. Gerald Turner, then chancellor of the University of Mississippi, was in Dallas for an NCAA governance committee meeting, and be and Funk had arranged to gel together. Funk had previously tried to recruit Turner tor three or four other positions, but Turner had turned him down. Turner’s turnaround of Ole Miss had sparked considerable notice, and as a university presidential candidate, he was hot property.

In person. Turner impressed Funk even more. He was youthful and bright. charismatic and outgoing. Funk again tried to court Turner to relocate, but Turner said he wouldn’t consider any change until his youngest daughter graduated from high school in Mississippi. The Texas-born educator did tell Funk, however. that he would be interested in someday doing something in Texas.

Thai was in the back of Funk’s mind when he was asked by Jerry Junkins to find Pye’s successor. Turner was on the short list of eight candidates, all but one or two of whom were sitting presidents at the lime. The search committee interviewed them all at the Airport Hyatt over a two-day period. During each hour-and-a-half interview, the committee asked the same questions: What is your management style and philosophy? How do you motivate other people? What are the challenges for higher education in the next 10 years? What is the appropriate role of athletics? What is your experience in fund-raising?

About two years before his death, Pye had made a prescient aside to Hunt. He remarked that his successor would have to be an entirely different kind of leader. Hunt disagreed at the time, but today admits, “As usual, Ken Pye was right.’’

Pye was a stern-looking man who could be seen shuffling between buildings on campus, almost like a turtle, his coat and tie like an ill-filling shell. His gruff style was at first met with resistance but later recalled with praise. As might be expected from such an introvert, external relations were not his strength, and some of his decisions were controversial. But most of them proved effective in the long run. He was honest, strong-wi1led, and without pretense. “Stoic” isn’t the right word, but it’s not far off.

In came Tuner, a tall man with an easy smile and infectious laugh, to meet with the search committee. Turner is a bom salesman, gregarious and passionate. He speaks in long sentences, and as he talks, his hands become demonstrative and emphatic. When he’s not pounding the table-top with his fingertips, lie unwittingly twirls his class ring. “I tell people it’s how 1 rev up.” Turner says with a laugh. Maybe that ring has special powers.

If the interview at the airport hotel was a lest, Turner aced it. “He dazzled them.” remembers Funk, who was there during the interview process. “He was excited, enthusiastic, poised, and articulate.” There were other good candidates, but Turner was- far and above-the best.

Junkins decided right then that Turner was the man SMU needed, and his pursuit took on all the vigor of a big company campaign. He phoned other board members to share his exuberance about a certain candidate without revealing his name. Junkins quickly assembled a fleet of airplanes, shuttling people in and out of town, expediting the process but adhering to the rules.

The next step in a typical search is to bring three or four of the candidates individually to visit the campus and to interview with the full board. SMU brought only one candidate: Gerald Turner.

Turner’s fast track raised (he hopes of the board but the eyebrows of the faculty. First of all. the faculty felt that their interests were not properly represented. Six of them had served on the search committee for Pye. On the search for Turner, there was only one. Granted, an advisory- faculty committee communicated with the search committee, but the professors wanted more.

The faculty’s second concern was that Turner did not seem to be (lie typical scholar-administrator. He was in administration so early in his career that he seemed to have been reared in the board room, not the classroom. While Turner has a doctorate and has published more than 25 articles in psychology, lie did not have the sort of national prominence in his field of study that Pye had achieved with his legal scholarship.

Faculty at private institutions arc a force unto themselves- proud, jealous of prerogative, and protective of their collective reputation. Pye had reinforced that spirit. On the downside, that integrity can produce an “educational elitism,’” In the minds of a proud private university faculty, a presidential candidate from a public institution would be considered only if he were exceptional. The president of Ole Miss did not meet their criterion.

Under Pye, SMU had begun to shed both the stigma of athletic scandal and ils reputation as a playground for rich kids. Many faculty believed that with a strong push, SMU was now in the position to reach national prominence. Pye’s death was more than a hurdle, it was a wall. If the wrong leader succeeded him, if the president who followed was anything less than brilliant, all of that hard-won progress would have been wasted. SMU would be doomed to second-tier status, maybe for good. With everything on the line, the faculty understandably mistrusted a Dallas business community that had never grasped the mission of a truly first-class university. But the faculty seems to have misjudged this new generation of business leaders; now at the helm was a revamped board that understood the weight of the past and appreciated the promise of the future.

With a natural charm and the ability to turn questions onto themselves- Turner won the faculty over. They wanted to know Turner’s model institution. For Pye, it was Dartmouth. For President Donald Shields before him, it was most likely Vanderbilt. For Tunier, it is SMU. “I think it would be a bail mistake to use another institution as a model. I don’t want SMU to be the Harvard of the South, or the USC of the East, the Emory of die West, or anything like that. I want SMU to be the university for Dallas, and that means it will be unique.”

On the last day of Turner’s visit, the board offered him the job. THE PLAN: Charting a new course

Turner accepted the position on Jan. 28, 1995, becoming the 10th president of SMU. His lirst day in office was June 5, but he would not face his true tests until September: students and faculty returning to campus to begin a new academic year, his first board meeting, and perhaps most important of all, his inaugural address.

Beginning in July, with two hours here and two hours there, week after week. Turner wrote and rewrote his inaugural speech, which he delivered on Sept. 9. 1995. Moody Coliseum welcomed 4,000 students, faculty, alumni, and community leaders, curious to hear what SMU’s new president had to say. In his speech, Turner predictably proclaimed his excitement about what a wonderful moment it was to be at SMU. But Turner’s speech quickly departed from the typical rah-rah boosterism of potential and possibility.

“Usually those speeches are short and platitudinous,” says Turner. “But the pace we were on with the strategic plan, and with the capital campaign coming around the comer-I didn’t have that luxury.”

For example. Turner noted Dallas’ importance in telecommunications and computing and the dozens of such companies that are headquartered here. “It is, therefore, important that SMU have absolutely first-rate telecoinmunication and communication programs to educate professionals to succeed in these rapidly changing companies.” He mentioned the school’s proximity to UT Southwestern and suggested thai “SMU should be a (if not the) major premedical and pre-health care educator in the area.”

Turner described general trends in higher education but with specific goals for SMU. outlining the future in concrete terms and identifying four themes: globalization, information revolution, health care, and ethics-signposts for anyone wondering which direction Turner intended to take SMU.

Pye’s death could have postponed, if not permanently derailed, some of the most important initiatives in SMU’s history, namely the completion of its strategic plan and the beginning of its capital campaign. The board had asked Pye to chart a plan for SMU’s future, outlined with specific goals. To accomplish those goals, it planned a major gifts campaign. When Pye suddenly became ill, (he board feared such planning would fall into administrative limbo. Apparently Pye feared the same thing.

The ailing president called dean of Perkins School of Theology James Kirby al his house to ask a favor. Kirby knew Pye had had health problems, but [he news that night was as much a shock to him as it was to everyone. “As we spoke. I thought he was going to ask me to be on the search committee,” Kirby remembers, “which I didn’t want to do,” Pye instead asked a surprised Kirby if he would serve as interim president, and the dean reluctantly accepted. “To tell you the honest truth,” he says, “I did it because Ken Pye asked me to.”

Fortunately for SMU. Jim Kirby isn’t the sort who regards “interim” as a synonym for “seat-warming.” He asked for-and got-a meeting with key board members. He fell that there were legitimate things he could accomplish in a year, and, as it turns out. things he did accomplish.

Kirby met with the deans of the schools and with the vice presidents. people he knew well and had worked with before. By (he end of his year as acting president. Kirby had done the preliminary organization for the capital campaign, launched the strategic plan, and approved the hiring of one of the best athletic directors in the country. While Kirby’s service as president was temporary, his actions laid a launching pad for the president about to come.

When that president arrived, he hit the ground running. Turner was delighted to find a timetable in place, but its clock was already ticking. Under Kirby’s prodding, the schools had submitted their wish lists for the strategic plan. Now all these myriad objectives had to be unified in theme and united in purpose.

In May 1996, Turner presented-and the board approved- the “strategic plan 1996-2000.” a program for SMU’s development. As a concept, it’s nothing new. In practice, it has become the bible for SMU’s attempt to vault itself into the top tier of private institutions in the country. At each September meeting of the board, the president must present a status report on the progress made in the previous year and action plans designed for progress in the upcoming year.

Not everyone has been as enthusiastic. “There has been some skepticism.” concedes Turner, “from within the faculty scattered across the campus, and some of the deans, too, of whether we would really use the strategic plan or just put it on the shelf, because there have been other efforts at various times to make plans and then spend time on them and then be forgotten. 1 keep trying to tell them, ’You will come to believe in the importance of this plan, because I will keep referring back to it, and we will do things because of it.”’

But to get things done takes money.

THE CAMPAIGN:

Asking Dallas for support

ON APRIL 18. 1997, MUCH TO THE DISMAY OF students burdened by backpacks who were looking for a between-class break, the couches in the Commons of Hughes-Trigg Student Center were temporarily displaced to make room for rows of chairs in front of a podium on a stage. Banners hung and balloons abounded. Chairman of the board WR. Howell was about to announce the most ambitious fund-raising campaign in Dallas history.

To implement the changes called for by the strategic plan, including scholarships, academic enhancements, and new facilities, SMU that day launched the public phase of its capital campaign, a focused fund-raising effort to raise $300 million in five years. The campaign’s “quiet phase.’’ which had begun nearly i wo years before, already had brought in $99.5 million. To start the public phase with panache. Bob and Nancy Dedman with their foundation pledged $30 million, designating $12 million of the gift to a new life sciences building. It was the largest single gift ever given to SMU.

“It is as important to know how to give away your money as it is how to earn,” Dedman said at the ceremony. “Enjoy the thrill of giving while you’re still alive. You can’t take it with you: Thai’s why there are no luggage racks on hearses.”

Dedman originally had intended to announce his contribution at a later phase in the campaign, but trustees and Turner urged him to do it earlier. Such a large gift so early in the campaign would make $300 million appear feasible and attainable. Eight months later, in December, the goal was so attainable that an exuberant board lipped it $50 million to S350 million.

Turner wants SMU to reclaim ils historic partnership with Dallas, and there is perhaps no greater test of that partnership than a plea for money. With the capital campaign, SMU hopes to capitalize on the present booming economy in Dallas, seeking donations from a city that understands what a university can contribute to its future. “It’s provincial to think thai only students, faculty, and alumni stand to benefit from SMU.” says Howell, who is in fact a graduate of Oklahoma University and the first non-alum to chair SMU’s board since its earliest days. Howell, the man who brought JCPenney to Dallas, was formerly chairman of the Dallas Citizen’s Council, no coincidence for a school renewing its lies to the city.

Bill Lively orchestrates much of the relationship between SMU and the city. He says he can document that SMU contributes $300*million each year to Dallas’ economy. Asking for a little more than that amount in return over the course of live years seems reasonable, and Dallas, for the most part, has responded. By December. SMU had received approximately $212 million in pledges and donations. The true test comes when the well of mega-buck donors starts to run dry.

Three hundred and fifty million dollars is a lot of money and an ambitious goaf. Some believe SMU could easily justify more. In November. UT Austin announced a fund-raising campaign for $1 billion. “[Our goal] could’ve been $2 billion if you ask me what endowment we need” Turner says flatly.

SMU’s current endowment is about $650 million to $7(X) million (depending on market variations), which seems a sufficient amount until compared with schools like Vanderbilt, Emory, and Wake Forest, whose endowments range from $ 1.5 to $3 billion.

Yet. one might wonder why an institution with seemingly so much money is asking for so much more. It’s a question that. plagues all universities, especially in a lime when donors have very definite ideas of their own about how their hard-earned money should be spent. Most funds are restricted to the support of established programs, scholarships, and teaching chairs. To create new programs for new times, SMU must attract new money freed from old restrictions. And to build. SMU must raise much more than an annual budget can provide.



THE CAMPUS:

Breaking ground on the Hilltop

BEING PRESIDENT OF A UNIVERSITY IS A BALANCING ACT. SERVING as go-between, baby sitter, and peacemaker for the administration, faculty, and board can be similar to juggling a chain saw, an egg, and a bowling ball. What’s more, it’s all done on a public tightrope. Through it all, Gerald Turner is surprisingly at ease. He enjoys being a university president because he’s good at it- or maybe it’s the other way around.

Nobody can be around htm for long before noticing (hat he idles faster than most. En route to a doctorate in personality research, Turner got his master’s degree in counseling, i quickly learned counseling wouldn’t work for me,” Turner explains. “I can’t sit that long.”

Sure enough, to sit with Turner is to face a coiled spring; his eagerness on even mundane subjects is barely containable. But to chat with Turner is to have a flowing conversation, his speech peppered by a slight Southern accent, his lone relaxed, as if at any minute he ’11 offer a glass of lemonade. Il ’s a strange dichotomy: a man with so much going on who’s so easygoing.

The first two years of Turner’s tenure have been a whirlwind of activity, a manifestation of Turner’s fast pace. The strategic plan is in place, and the capital campaign is underway. Already, he has recruited Provost Ross Murfin and appointed two deans, Jasper Neel for Dedman College of Humanities and Sciences and Albert Niemi Jr. for the Cox School of Business. Turner has enthralled the board with high goals and his practicality in how to achieve them. The faculty, too, are more hopeful than skeptical. And Turner’s efforts to strengthen ties with the city are beginning to pay off. With luncheons here and visits there, he has roused the Dallas business community. As Chairman Howell says, “People now contribute to what’s going on at SMU because they want to, not because they feel they have to.”

But Turner’s most lasting footprint at SMU will be a face lift of the campus. Coinciding with the strategic plan, Turner has initiated the Centennial Master Plan, projected completion in 2015. He shows off the binder of the master plan just as a parent shows a treasured photo album. His eyes widen as he points out new projects. As funds are raised and buildings are renovated and constructed, the Hilltop will no longer be just an inlet of University Park, but, he hopes, an integral part of Dallas.

The Master Plan Committee selected Good Fulton & Fuller, a local architectural firm with experience in educational spaces and Park Cities’ building code, to map out the 50 project initiatives that stem from the strategic plan. The schools submitted a wish list for bricks and mortar, ranging from being a paragraph statement of “Wouldn’t it be great if…” to an inch-and-a-half-thick detailed outline for the new Meadows Museum.

Turner wants to partner with the city, but the physical SMU has not been cooperative. It isn’t a visitor-friendly campus. New construction will change that, welcoming guests with the architectural equivalent of open arms.

SMU’s main campus is already attractive. The style of the main buildings-Collegiate Georgian-is classical yet comforting, with red brick, pitched roofs, chimneys, and columns. The mature trees and landscaping sprinkle natural beauty on the suburban campus, with courtyards, vistas, and alleys of trees.

But except for the people Who work and study on campus, no one really appreciates it. Drivers who see the school from Daniel and Hillcrest avenues see the backs of buildings, and the view from the Central Expressway frontage road is of frat houses and intramural fields. Once on the campus, cars must pass through a maze of zigzag streets that always seem to dead-end or turnoff before getting you where you want to be. And once there, good luck finding a parking space anywhere close.

The master plan recommends that Bishop Boulevard remain the ceremonial entrance, but a new East Quad will be more accessible for visitors. Several parking garages will be placed on the perimeter of the campus, making the center of the university more pedestrian-friendly. And if there are a number of them, the parking garages can be relatively small, which makes it easier to maintain the architectural style of SMU.

“When you’re land-locked, like SMU is, you have three options,” says Tom Barry, chairman of the Master Plan Committee. “You can build in green spaces; you can knock down buildings; or you can acquire new land. We’re trying to do a bit of all three.”

SMU’s efforts for land acquisition have been ongoing for decades and will continue as the university patiently waits for lots to become available. Officials at SMU are sympathetic to the residents” concerns and have tried to work in concert with them to let them know that the master plan is well-reasoned.

Except lor the people across the street, most of Dallas has been unaware of SMU s scheduled reconstruction. Only when a press conference announced plans fora new football stadium did Dallas take notice. Bui then, that shouldn’t be surprising. The athletic program seems to be the sibling at SMU that always gets (he headlines, both the good and the bad.



THE RESURRECTION: Rebuilding the athletic program

SMU alum Gerald Ford built a banking fortune by know-ing whom to hire. Charged by his fellow trustees in 1994 with the job of resuscitating SMU’s athletic program. Ford knew he faced one of the great hiring challenges of his career. The whole effort would depend on a new athletic director with the leadership and experience to inspire confidence and attract talent.

Yet, here was an athletic department that was in debt at an institution that did not have a president. Rigorous admissions standards hindered recruitment. The athletic facilities were cramped and dated. The Southwest Conference, which SMU was a charter member of since 1914, was dissolving. And the athletic program had yet to outgrow its sullied reputation after the NCAA sanctioned it for pay-for-play violations.

So when Ford first heard about Jim Copeland. he was bottom-line realistic, but crossed-fingers hopeful. Copeland. then the athletic director for the University of Virginia, was in the top flight of potential candidates, but was not immediately pursued. “Everyone said we couldn’t get him,” says Frank Beaudine, the recruiter Ford brought in to help. So they continued to search elsewhere.

But the search found no one as qualified as Copeland. The program at Virginia was highly respected for its athletic and academic accomplishments, and the reason was Copeland. From 1987-94, while Copeland was AD at Virginia, the Cavaliers went to six football bowl games, six NCAA men’s basketball tournaments, won four NCAA championships in men’s soccer and two in women’s lacrosse. Copeland increased the athletic endowment al Virginia from S3 million to $7 million. He had also been AD at the University of Utah for two years, so he had experience with the competition in the Western Athletic Conference, SMU’s new conference affiliation. Beaudine figured it was worth a call just to see if he was interested.

And at first, his interest was slight. Copeland had no reason to leave, and his ties to the area were strong. Born and raised in Charlottesville, Copeland went to school at the University of Virginia, played football there, met his wife there. and after playing eight seasons with the Cleveland Browns, returned there to coach, working his way up from assistant football coach to athletic director. Who would waul to move from a successful program to a troubled one?

Jim Copeland would. And it was because of- not despite-the challenges that SMU’s athletic program posed, ’i think there is unlimited potential here,” Copeland said when he came to SMU.. “There are not many athletic directors who have the chance 1o build or rebuild a program and move il after the “death penalty.” That was a huge motivation in my taking the job.”

At 6-feet-2-inches, Jim Copeland is big, but not intimidating. His handshake is strong, but not unfriendly. When he walks, he lumbers, as if his bones ache. His stiff joints are thanks to more than a decade of football. The man is a competitor.

Where others saw problems. Copeland saw opportunity. Sure, the program was languishing at the time, but it had promise. It had potential based on a strong tradition in a great city with local talent. The program could be rebuilt. Maybe. If the right guy took it on.

SMU had good timing in luring Copeland from Virginia. He was experiencing the seven-year itch, a not unfamiliar phenomenon to those whose business it is to recruit top talent. After seven years, a successful athletic program is beginning to coast. The initial praise and excitement will have died down. Most important, the head of the program starts to be taken for granted. According to Bob Beaudine, Frank’s colleague and son, “Athletic directors want to feel wanted.” Even big guys want to be loved.

The minute he sniffed Copeland’s possible interest, Gerald Ford ordered up his Gulf stream private jet. With interim AD Bill Lively in tow, he flew to Charlottesville. Lively, who has been with SMU for 25 years, represented the history and enthusiasm of the university. Ford represented the commitment of the Dallas community. They had lunch at Copeland’s house. Copeland’s wife, Susie, cooked. Ford and Lively made Copeland fee] wanted.

Ford had already laid the groundwork. As they chatted amiably over the dining room table, Ford became convinced that Copeland would be the perfect capstone of his several-year effort to restore SMU’s athletic fortunes. Little did he know how expensive the effort would turn out to be.

The effort had begun under Pye. who at Duke had seen the benefits a strong athletic program could bring. SMU’s program had been devastated by the NCAA’s 1987 “death penalty” sanctions. With the Southwest Conference fading into the history books. Pye and Ford took it as their first priority to find the program a Division I-A home and set their sights on the WAC. Visibly sick with the treatment of his first cancer. Pye boarded Ford’s plane for stops in Colorado. Utah, and Wyoming, where they campaigned for SMU’s entry into the conference. Pye’s reputation and Ford’s salesmanship paid off.

’The WAC was the best choice,”’ says Ford. “Realistically, it was the only choice. And frankly, we had to really work to get in there. We shaped that by moving around and convincing people that SMU could provide good representation.”

The WAC has been SMU’s new affiliation since 1996. and SMU seems to be a perfect fit. The Mustangs are not only competing, they’re winning. The football team under head coach Mike Cavan had its first winning season in a decade and even shared the lead in the Mountain Division during the season. And a strong recruitment promises a successful season for coach Mike Dement’s basketball team. too. SMU is winning again, which makes students proud and alumni generous. Athletics, after all, is the primary link between graduates and their alma mater.

Of course, there are other sports besides football and basketball. but those two are the “revenue sports.” Those are where television contracts arc and corporate sponsors like to be. “Basketball and football drive the budget and drive the perception of the school,1’ says Copeland. That’s simply the way it is.

Which is particularly unfortunate for SMU, because performance in other sports is exceptionally strong and has been for years. Both men’s and women’s soccer teams are consistently ranked nationally. The track and field program has had numerous Olympic competitors, as have swimming and diving. In 1996-97, SMU placed 45th out of all United States colleges and universities and third among WAC schools in the final Sears Directors’ Cup standings, an evaluation of athletic programs based on post-season appearances in select sports.

In Frank Beaudine’s estimation, Copeland is about a year ahead of schedule in the rebuilding process. He’s raised support and money, awareness and respect. One of the first things Copeland did when he came to SMU was heighten the level of expectations for everyone involved. “The program had been down for so long, and there were so many negatives,” he says. “We had to realize that we could be good again.” More important, everyone had to believe that tough admissions standards and on-field success are not mutually exclusive.

Understandably, Copeland does not dwell on the death penalty. He barely acknowledges it. Those who were involved are no longer at SMU. And the kids that aie being recruited today were only 6 or 7 years old when it happened. Instead, Copeland treats his program as one that is rebuilding, regardless of the reason. And he is convinced that SMU has what it takes to be successful again.

With Copeland in place and with the program picking up steam. Ford slowly came to a realization. New leadership was not enough. To truly succeed, SMU needed new workout facilities, new athletic offices, and a new stadium.

“Having substandard facilities,” argues Ford, “makes it hard to recruit. If you can’t recruit, you can’t win. If you don’t win, people don’t come. If people don’t come, the program loses more money.”

The strategic plan called for a “thorough review of the best long-term solution for a permanent home for Mustang football.” Currently, home games are played at the Cotton Bowl, a venue that is steeped in tradition but is showing its age. SMU’s contract to play there expires in 1999. and a new lease would require expensive renovations. But even if the 68,000-seal stadium in Fair Park were in better condition and closer to home, SMU football at the Cotton Bowl is too ambitious. Maybe for a state school, but not a small, private university like SMU.

On the other hand, Ownby Stadium, the alternative on-campus site, does not meet the NCAA minimum seating requirement of 30.000 for Division l-A programs. Projections for renovations of Ownby. including additions of north and east stands, totaled more than $40 million. The board was considering what the best course of action would be when someone suggested that they look into building a new stadium. A timely Sports Illustrated article described Princeton’s construction of a 30,000-seat stadium for $45 million. If they could do it. why not SMU? Turner still felt that a renovation would do. but acknowledged that a new stadium would be great if someone would pay for it. Estimates for a 32.000-seat stadium on campus were about $53 million.

“I knew only two or three people that would be interested in making up the difference [between renovating the old stadium and building a new one],” says Turner. “The first two said no. If Mr. Ford said no, we would be renovating Ownby.”

But Mr. Ford said yes. He originally had indicated that he would donate $5 million, the same amount pledged by Lamar and Norma Hunt and Ray and Nancy Hunt. Ford felt that $5 million was a reasonable payback for the things thai SMU had provided him in his life. But Turner told Ford that the number of $5 million prospects was quickly running out. The stadium would not gel built any time soon if they were forced to nickel-and-dime the rest of the contributions. Ford, businessman, problem solver, and SMU alum, decided to donate $20 million to the program he had rebuilt and to the stadium that, as a result, will bear his name.



THE EXPANSION: Broadening the boundaries

The traditional university, with the traditional 18- to 23-year-old students, has the burden of much more than schoolroom education. The collegiate experience finishes the rearing process. Typically away from home the first time, freshmen must establish and define themselves not only as students, but as individuals. Just as much is learned in the dorm rooms as the classrooms. “] don’t think anything will ever replace that,” says Turner.

While that role of the university may not be replaced, it is being augmented. The student bodies at SMU and elsewhere are increasingly populated by “non-traditional” students, men and women who go back to school to earn their degrees or take non-credit courses. SMU has always courted and catered to this group of students with popular MBA and MLA programs. But now the continuing education program at SMU is getting aggressive. Instead of bringing students to the campus. SMU is bringing the campus to students.

Robert Patterson was in charge of continuing and extended education and had previously established three classrooms on Midway Road. And engineering centers were already in place in Richardson. Houston, and elsewhere. But to realize what Turner envisioned in the strategic plan, to broaden the campus boundaries and increase its constituents, SMU needed more space.

On Oct. 3. 1997. Turner and Les Alberthal of EDS dedicated SMU-in-Legacy, a sort of campus away from campus, 20 minutes north. EDS contributed the 48,000-square-foot building that constitutes the facility, a high-tech ensemble of interactive classrooms with computer lecterns and video and stereo equipment, electronically connected to the main campus. Patterson is now SMU-in-Legacy’s dean.

Course selection is based partly on guesswork but mostly on research. SMU surveyed 10,000 employees of companies in Far North Dallas to determine what classes were wanted and needed. SMU-in-Legacy mostly offers computer training courses. which makes sense for a generation that at one time had use for a slide rule. SMU wants to help them keep up with technology. For the credit courses, faculty commute from the main campus. Currently, it’s a bit of a hassle, but Patterson is confident that the upscale, technical buildings will be enough of a draw to make teachers want to teach in North Dallas. Plus, SMU-in-Legacy has a professional grad school feel with demanding adults as students. It’s a different, sometimes more attractive, environment in which to teach.



THE CRUCIBLE: Grading the academics

IT’S TUESDAY MORNING IN DALLAS HALL. IN A CORNER CLASSROOM on the second floor, a sophomore-level English class gathers a cross-section of a generation. Frat boys in ropers, with goatee stubble and backwards hats. Girls with leggings, sweatshirts tied around their waists, and scrunchies corralling blond hair. A “granola” contingent who wear their Birkenstocks through to the sole and drink a lot of Snapple. A football player too big for his chair. Two sorority sisters gossiping over yogurt.

Many of the students there are taking the course to fulfill a core curriculum requirement, and they can each think of other places that they’d rather be.

When the teacher enters, the classroom quiets. For the most part, the students politely listen and grudgingly take notes. No one thinks to ask about the reading. And no one asks the question that everyone’s thinking; Is this going to be on the test?

It all comes down to the classroom. SMU can raise all of the money it wants to raise, build all of the buildings it wants to build, be as pretty as it wants to be. Disregard how loud the voices sing Turner’s praises. Never mind who’s on the board of trustees. Forget the football team. Nothing matters but the classroom. At the core of the university, professors teach and students leam. “The rest of us are helpers,” says Turner.

Ultimately, for SMU to be regarded nationally, it must assert itself as a reputable academic institution. The Cox School of Business and the Meadows School of the Arts have both been ranked, and other specific programs have garnered distinction, but as a liberal arts school, SMU’s Dedman College of Humanities and Sciences must be the center and heart of its ambitions.

SMU has yet to experience a University Moment, a solo performance in the scholastic spotlight of nationwide notice. In the ’30s. Jacques Brazun launched Columbia to prominence with a solid curriculum and renowned professors such as Mark van Dor-en and Lionel Trillin. Similarly in the ’60s, Harry Ransom established UT Austin on the scholastic map by recruiting such stars as philosopher John Silber and classicist William Arrowsrnith. SMU. on the other hand, has been somewhat respected but certainly not rigorous. The reputation of “’party school” lingers, where students are more adept at socializing than sociology.

For SMU to achieve its due. Provost Ross Murfin must change that. He must invigorate listless classrooms. He must inspire professors to research, publish, teach, and educate. He must challenge students to learn, foster their ability to lead, and realize their potential for success. He must reshape the intellectual ambition of an entire region. Whether anyone knows it or not, including him. Ross Murfin could be one of the most powerful and influential people in Dallas.

Murfin came to SMU in August 1996 after serving as dean of the College of Arts and Sciences at the University of Miami. He is self-effacing, affable, and obliging. With his wide eyes and his wide smile, he is engaging and polite. And he has the kind of credentials that academics respect, Murfin graduated with honors from Princeton University before getting a masters and Ph.D. in English with distinction in just three years from the University of Virginia. (When Murfin was told that students typically take a year to study for their comprehensive exams, he wondered if he could take them the following week. He did, and he passed.) Murfin has won fellowships from Yale, Miami, the American Council of Learned Societies, and the National Endowment for the Humanities. He has authored four books, edited three, and published more than 35 essays.

“It sounds tautological,” Murfin says, “but 1 took the job because they offered it to me. I was somewhat surprised when they did. They could’ve hired a technocrat or a budget whiz.”

Hiring Murfin balances the scales between the professional schools that receive the accolades, attention, and donations and the liberal arts hat might deserve them more. The difference between the agendas is as important as the distinction between information and knowledge. To borrow Turner’s metaphor, the liberal arts program is the core of the university: the professional schools, such as business and engineering, are spokes.

The core and the spokes are mutually dependent. Dedman College provides the fundamental foundation of liberal arts for the other schools, and they, in turn, help provide financial support. SMU has created centers that are rooted in the liberal arts but appeal to a broader interest. And with that interest comes budgets from which the departments can siphon. The Center for Political Studies, for instance, helps the political science program. The Maguire Center for Ethics and Public Responsibility supports the religion and philosophy departments. The William P. Clements Center for Southwest Studies promotes history, English, and art. These centers are already in place, and the strategic plan proposes more: a medical anthropology center to boost anthropology and a family counseling center for psychology. Through seminars and lectures, they raise public interest and attract funding that supports the liberal arts core.

Improving the status of a liberal arts school is an inexact and time-intensive process. In SMU’s defense, it is a young institution, an adolescent compared to the Ivy Leagues. But to be able to stake a claim to excellence. SMU must revitalize the core of the university, starting with its student body.

The trick is not to enroll more students, just better ones. Bean-counters can worry about numbers, but the administration must consider quality. Make SMU a nicer, more attractive place to go to school, the thinking goes, and more students will want to go there. If more apply, admissions can be more selective. SMU’s target first-year class is 1,200 students, and SMU currently fills it at an acceptance rate of 80 percent. For comparison’s sake, Vanderbilt’s acceptance rate is 60 percent and Emory’s is 44.

The better the student is, the more likely that student is to stay at SMU, and the second priority after attracting good students is keeping them. Drop-outs and transfers become costly. If a student leaves after one year, after taking a valuable, someday-coveted spot in the first-year class, and assuming that student would have paid full tuition and room and board for the three remaining years, the school loses a hypothetical $60,000. For an institution that is pleased with its size, which at SMU hovers around 9,500, the retention rate becomes a scrutinized statistic. SMU’s is 84 percent, while Vanderbilt and Emory have 91 and 92 percent, respectively.

Murfin says that good faculty follow good student bodies, that professors prefer to teach where students are intelligent and interested. But the argument quickly becomes circular: Better faculty create better programs, better programs attract better students. better students attract better faculty.

Here’s where money can step in. A bigger endowment can fund more scholarships, in addition to the already successful President’s Scholars program, to draw brighter students from other institutions. With scholarships, the university is not merely waiving fees to attract students, it is paying the bills.

Money can also upgrade the campus. In this Information Age. a program must be in the forefront of technology. The chalkboard and ruler have become anachronistic. Classrooms are now virtually cable-ready computer terminals with uplinks to cyberspace. To keep up, SMU must have top-notch facilities (read: a master plan).

And, money can support endowed chairs for superstar faculty. Professors that not only teach students to learn, but also teach other teachers to teach. It is up to Murfin to seek out. recruit, and nurture such leadership.

But even though it’s a buyer’s market in academia right now, SMU cannot simply hire whomever it pleases. There are only so many positions available, and there’s this thing called “tenure.” While some may contest the benefits of tenure, others, like Murfin. argue that it is invaluable. “Tenure protects the freedom to challenge prevailing thought patterns,” says Murfin. If professors sense that their jobs are insecure, they are less likely to do experimental work in their held. They fall behind the innovation curve. Phasing out professors who have lost their enthusiasm to replace them with fresh talent is a delicate, sensitive situation. As Murfin says, SMU must ensure accountability while protecting tenure, giving faculty the leeway to move freely but also the incentive to keep moving.

When recruiting, Murfin admits he must allay stereotypes when attracting prospective professors. Texas, to many outsiders, is still a bit of a mystery, the land of huge egos on the one hand, a reputation for friendliness on the other. The “Southern” in Southern Methodist raises questions, again by virtue of reputation, of widespread conservatism and antipathy to diversity. “Methodist” insinuates a stronger religious presence than is truly felt; on today’s campus, there is support but no interference by the Church in what is offered and taught. The outstanding national recognition that the Cox School of Business has received hinders the recruitment of teachers who wonder if the humanities still count, and similarly, those who have heard of the excellent Meadows School of the Arts must be convinced that SMI) is not solely about art.

A different stereotype exists closer to home. While outsiders may not know of the “bubble,” locals sure do. SMU may be notorious to some for being an elitist, insular institution, but Murfin doesn’t see it that way. “Yes, it’s private, expensive, and well-heeled,” he admits. “And to some extent it will always look like the rich kid on Dallas’ block. But it would be hard to be that kind of place anymore.” As Turner made clear in his inaugural speech and as the strategic plan emphasizes, society is diversifying and so will SMU’s student body.

Town and gown have a give-and-take relationship. If SMU and Dallas are to truly partner, if ivory towers are to stand beside skyscrapers, then both must participate and both should benefit.

Dallas provides SMU with a backdrop of international business, world-class culture, and deep, deep pockets. The city-particularly the healthy job market-helps entice faculty. When recruiting a faculty member, SMU is also recruiting that faculty’s spouse, since two-career couples are more commonplace than not. No matter the spouse’s vocation, chances are that [he Dallas-Fort Worth area provides job placement. Even DFW Airport is a bonus for researchers and lecturers accustomed to heavy travel schedules.

In return, SMU contributes to. and one day may help establish, the intellectual climate for the region. The hardest commodity to come by these days is talent. SMU’s purpose is to attract that talent and then mold it. Since students that graduate typically stay in the area (about 38 percent of SMU’s alums live here), everyone wins. The school feeds off the resources of the city, and the city benefits from the school.

THE LEADER: Pushing ahead

Turner likes to have lunch meetings in his office, not to show off his furniture, but to show off his campus. The view from his second-story window, through the leaves of the trees outside, is comforting and undeniably collegiate. An overcast autumn day conjures up images of students in varsity sweaters and professors with elbow patches. The sound of chalk on cold, gray slate. The smell of musty air in library carrels.

But now at SMU, at least within important and influential segments, the air is charged with electricity, the atmosphere vibrant, the mood vigorous. Turner is not the only one cheerleading for SMU. Other administrators on campus and leaders in the area share his enthusiasm and excitement. And Turner is quick to admit that he’s not the only one responsible for making SMU’s attempt to become top-tier not just conceivable, but realistic. He footnotes the recent history of Pye and the active support of the business community.

But Turner is the only one who sits at the president’s desk. He’s the one that orchestrates the administrators. He’s the one that recruits and inspires the faculty. He’s the one that represents the school to outsiders. He’s the one that shapes SMU.

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote. “An institution is the lengthened shadow of one man,” Currently at SMU, that man is Gerald Turner. In the future, his legacy may outlast his tenure. Only time will tell. The president, echoing Emerson, acknowledges the gradual process of improving higher education. “It’s a lot like planting trees,” he says quietly in his slight Southern drawl. “You’ve got to be willing to do your work and enjoy a little bit of it, but the real shade may fall on someone else.”

MEASURE OF SUCCESS

Ranked as a second-tier school among national universities, SMU finds itself in good company, but not among the very best.

U.S. News & World Report “s annual ranking of undergraduate programs at four-year colleges and universities is the bible of college rankings. Out of the 228 schools considered national universities, SMU is a second-tier school, listed alphabetically between the top 50 and No. 116. Over the last 10 years, U.S. Hews has put more emphasis on the “outcome” measures of an institution (retention, Job placement) than the “input” {high school class rank, SAT scores). A questionnaire covering 81 statistical measures, along with a H reputation survey completed by the president, dean of admissions, and provost of 1,400 four-year schools provided the 1998 rankings data.

SMU considers the following schools to be its greatest competition when recruiting, so we compared those U.S. News & World Report numbers for 1998.-Courtney Denby

The MBA Program at SMU’s Cox School of Business now ranks among the nation’s best.



Whan SMU turned the Cox School of Business MBA into a two-year, full-time program in 1991, Business Week and corporate America took note. The program improved and changed so dramatically that by 1996, for the first time in the school’s history, Cox was ranked in Business Week’s coveted top 25 list, labeled as “one of the most topical and Innovative MBA programs in the nation.”

The Cox School of Business considers UT Austin, Duke, UVA, and Vanderbilt to be its greatest competition. D Magazine used Business Week’s data for the following comparisons.-C.D.

MUSTANG MADNESS

SMU football’s infamous death penalty was a long time coming.

IT WAS A PROUD TRADITION-THE powerhouse of 1935, undefeated and Rose Bowl bound; Doak Walker, the Ail-American Boy of the 1940s; Fred Benners and the upset of Notre Dame in 1951. Then the Mustang football program returned to earth with a resounding thud. They had one winning season during the next seven years. Thus began the “history of involvement,” later cited by the NCAA in justifying the ultimate penalty for Mustang Mania:

1958: AH of the Southwest Conference coaches lusted after halfback Glynn Gregory, who had led Abilene High School to three straight state championships. Following the blue-chipper ’s enrollment at SMU, the NCAA slapped the Red and Blue with a one-year, no sanction probation for a summer job given to Gregory by Dallas-based Ray Oil Company.

1964: Following dismal results by head coaches Chalmer Woodard and Bill Meek, the alumni decided to give a boost to Hayden Fry’s rebuilding efforts. When the team was targeted for investigation, the staff and alumni claimed the Good Samaritan defense, arguing that the free air transportation was to help one boy visit his sick mother, and the loaning of a coach’s car was to enable another to visit his lonely grandmother. The NCAA grinches zapped the Ponies with a two-year probation.

1974: Except for 1966. when the Mustangs backed into the Cotton Bowl when Texas Tech upset Arkansas. Fry’s record was as dismal as his predecessors’. After he was fired near the end of the 72 season, the Hilltop hierarchy snubbed defensive coordinator Bum Phillips in favor of ex-assistant coach Dave Smith. During Smith’s regime, the NCAA uncovered a payoff scheme in which the athletic department sold complimentary tickets and gave the money to the players. Cash was passed out for touchdowns, interceptions, and other contributions on the field. Penalty: another two-year probation.

1976: Opponents averaged four touchdowns a game against the Ponies in 1975, and Dave Smith was fired. The Mustangs looked for salvation in the form of Ron Meyer, a dynamic young coach who recruited with the zeal of an evangelist. The NCAA extended the ’74 probation for another year following the discovery of more shenanigans during the Smith regime, but it lifted the sanctions.

1981: During Meyer’s reign, the Mustangs moved into the major league of shady practices. The NCAA assessed another two-year probation, citing 29 rules violations including prohibited entertainment and promises that complimentary tickets could be sold for inflated prices. One NCAA investigator seemed particularly discouraged at a report that Ron Meyer had tacked a $ 100 bill on a college bulletin board, explaining that this was all the calling card SMU needed.

1985: After posting a l0-l record in 1981, Meyer moved outside the NCAA jurisdiction to the NFL. Successor Bobby Collins, another rah-rah recruiter continued Meyer’s winning ways with a three-year record of 31-4, and according to the NCAA, the rules violations continued as well. They included cash gifts up to $5,000 to families of promising prospects, cash to players, and money for lodging, transportation, and entertainment. The investigators cited 36 violations, most with sub-parts, and this time the penalty was three years probation, the elimination of 45 scholarships, and the banishment of nine boosters from involvement in SMU athletics.

1986: On Nov. 12, 1986.WFAA-TV Channel 8 sportscaster Dale Hansen announced what was, in effect, the death of SMU football. Following weeks of investigation, Hansen reported that former SMU linebacker David Stanley continued to receive payments after the 1985 probation. Two days later. The Dallas Morning News disclosed that Pony tight end Albert Reese was living in a rent-free apartment controlled by George Owen, one of the boosters banned in ’85. A week later, SMU President Dr. L. Donald Shields resigned, citing health reasons. A few days later, in announcing the resignations of Coach Bobby Collins and Athletic Director Bob Hitch, William P. Clements, chairman of SMU’s board of governors, said that the university would no longer tolerate “monkey business” in the football program.

1987: On Feb. 25, 1987, David Berst, the NCAA’s director of enforcement, disclosed that more than $60,000 was paid to active and former players after the imposition of the ’85 sanction. The NCAA prohibited SMU from fielding a football team in 1987 and imposed other restrictions, which effectively ruled out football the following year also. After the announcement, Berst fainted. A week later, Clements, who had in the meantime been elected governor, admitted that he and some other members of the board of governors had approved the continuation of the improper payments as a “moral obligation” and part of a “winding down” process. Later, when asked why he had fibbed about his knowledge of the infractions, the governor explained: “We weren’t operating like Inaugural Day with the Bible.”-Tom Peeler

BUYING HE BEST

With its President’s Scholars Program, SMU is luring young talent to Dallas.

IN 1982, SMU STARTED SNARING would-be Ivy Leaguers with a powerful new recruiting tool: the President’s Scholars Program. Created by the provost’s office, the program annually offers about 20 freshmen four years of full tuition and a chance to study abroad-transportation and tuition included-giving SMU an edge in competing for high-achieving students.

On campus, the 80 President’s Scholars are a known entity, respected by the students and faculty for their leadership in the classroom and campus life. With the help of their appointed faculty mentors, Scholars have the opportunity to design their own interdisciplinary majors. Scholars also enjoy a one-on-one mentor relationship with a representative from corporate sponsors such as AT&T and Tom Thumb, or private sponsors, such as John Tolleson and Ruth Altshuler. In short, SMU makes sure that its President’s Scholars get the very best the school and Dallas has to offer.

But competition is tough. From the annual application pool. 75 finalists are selected for the interview process. To qualify for consideration, applicants must have a minimum SAT score of 700 for verbal and 650 for math and be in the top 10 percent of their class. For the students who are chosen each year, the scholarship is renewable for four years by maintaining a minimum GPA of 3.3 and remaining a full-time student.

With the first class of President’s Scholars just 10 years into their careers and post-graduate work, it is evident that SMU’s investment has paid off -CD.

MAKING THEIR MARK



SMU grads have gone on to star on stage and screen, in business and in politics.

Politics

Over the years, SMU has had several friends in high places, with alumni elected to office at the local, stale, and national levels. Former governor of Texas Bill Clements graduated in 1939…U.S. House Of Representatives: John Bryant (’69, ’72), Jim Chapman (’70). James Collins (’37), Ralph Hall ( ’51 ). Eddie Bernice Johnson (’76), Jim Mattox (’68). Sam Johnson (’51), and Lamar Smith (“75)…U.S. Senator and chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee John Tower (’53)…Former mayors of Dallas : Jack Evans (’45) and Robert Folsom (’50)…The first woman mayor of San Antonio Lila Banks Cockrell (’42)…U.S. Ambassadors; Robert Krueger (’57) to Burundi: Roy Huffington (’38) to Austria; R. Richard Rubottom (’32, ’33) to Argentina; and Walter Vernon ( ’57, ’61, ’71) to the Federal Republic of Germany. Vernon has also served as the U.S. representative to the United Nations.



Entertainment and Media

The Meadows School of the Arts has produced several household names, or at least characters, including Mr. Peppermint (Jerry Haynes, ’50): Kathy Bates (’69) starred in Misery, Fried Green Tomatoes, and Dolores Claiborne: Patricia Richardson (’72) is the female lead in “Home Improvement”; Dill Fagerbakke (’83) plays Dauber Dybinski on ’’Coach”; Regina Taylor(’81)co-starred in the TV series “I’ll Fly Away”; and StephenTobolowsky (’73) has appeared in Groundhog Day, Thelma and Louise, and Single White Female...Behind the scenes, SMU graduates have also made their mark in the entertainment world as directors, writers, and producers: tesli Linka Clatter (’74) directed Now and Then and episodes of “ER”; Jim Hart (’69), a screenwriter and producer, co-produced Hook and Bram broker’s Dracula. Probably the most famous alumnus is Aaron Spelling (’49), who has gone on to produce some of the biggest hits on TV, including “The Love Boat,” “Dynasty,” “Twin Peaks.” and “Beverly Hills 90210″…Catherine Crier, who got her JD from SMU in 1977, was a second-term state district judge in Texas and now hosts “The Crier Report” on the Fox news channel: Hark Miller (“85) is currently the senior story editor at ABC News’ “PrimeTime Live”; and Lee Cullum (’61), now a contributing columnist to The Dallas Morning News, has also served as the editorial page editor at the Dallas Times-Herald and as a D Magazine editor.



Prize Winners

In the last 28 years, alumni have collectively won nine world-recognized prizes: James Cronin (’51) won the 1980 Nobel Prize for his work in subatomic particles…Beth Henley (74) won the 1981 Pulitzer Prize for Drama for her Broadway play “Crimes of the Heart”…In 1986, Craig Flournoy (’86) won the Pulitzer Prize for National Reporting…Milton Justice (’68) won an Oscar for his documentary film, Down and Out in America…In 1991, actress Kathy Bates (’69) won both the Academy Award and the Golden Globe Award for Best Actress for her portrayal of Annie Wilkes in Misery...Kathleen Noone (’69), best known for her role on “Knot’s Landing.” won an Emmy for Best Supporting Actress in 1987…And, for his performance in “The Most Happy Fella.” Scott Waara (’79) won a Tony Award and the New York Critics’ Drama Desk Award in 1992.



Big Money, Big Success

Seven SMU graduates have been honored as members of the Texas Business Hall of Fame: Trammell Crow (’39), Robert Dedman (’53), Henry S. Miller Jr. (’34), Boy Huffington (’38), Lamar Hunt (’56). Ray Hunt (’65), and William Solomon (65)…Mark Shepherd Jr. (’42) went on to be the chairman and CEO of Texas Instruments…Frank Crossen (’49) served as chairman and CEO of the $4 billion Centex Corporation from 1972 to 1985…Chartes G. Cullum (’36) served on the Dallas City Council and was co-chairman of Cullum Companies which owned Tom Thumb until it was sold to Randalls…George Pierce Cutlum Jr. (’42) and sons Mark (’70) and Phillip (’74) all work for the fourth generation Cullum Construction Company, which deals in underground utilities…Donald Zale (’54) is known for his family’s former jewelry company, Zales, but today he is the chairman of Capitol Entertainment…Michael Boone (“63, ’67) co-founded Haynes & Boone LLP…Bobby Lyle (’67) is chairman, president, and CEO of Lyco Energy Corporation; Gerald Ford {’66, ’69), chairman and CEO of California Federal Bank; William Solomon (’65), chairman and CEO of Austin Industries Inc.; Eckhard Pfeiffer (“83) is now president and CEO of Compaq Computer Corporation in Houston; and Carl Sewell ( ’66) is chairman and CEO of Sewell Motor Company and author of Customers for Life.



Inventors, Bright Ideas

Robert Dennard (’54, ’56) invented the dynamic random access memory (DRAM) chip and was inducted to the National Inventor’s Hall of Fame last September…Sister and brother Julie Ann and Bill Brice Jr. (BBA in ’80 and ’81) founded 1 Can’t Believe It’s Yogurt…Lawrence Herkimer (’48), whose namesake cheerleading jump is the Her-kie, founded Cheerleader Supply Company Inc. and became the president of the National Cheerleaders Association. Herkimer also invented and owns the patent for the original porn-pom.



Sports Stars

Mustangs have collectively won 11 Olympic medals on U.S. teams in swimming, diving, and track: Ryan Berube ( ’97); Scott Donie ( ’90); Jerry Heidenreich (’72); Steve Lundquist (’83); Michael Carter (’84); Jon Koncak (’85); and Kevin Robinzine. who attended SMU between 1984 and 1992…There have been a few SMU football stars: Doak Walker ( ’50), SMU’s only Heisman Trophy winner, is also a member of both the Collegiate and Pro Football halls of fame; Don Meredith {’60), best known as quarterback for SMU and the Cowboys, is putting his degree to work with his new business, Meredith Investments in Santa Fe…Other SMU alumni sport successes include Payne Stewart (’79), who won the 1991 U.S. Open Championship at Hazeltine National Golf Club; and Lamar Hunt (’56), president and founder of the American Football League and founder of the Kansas City Chiefs and World Championship Tennis.-C.D.

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