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My Friend, George Lang
By Stephen Weber
George Lang died May 9, 2007. Lang was treasurer of the AAUP's Assembly of State Conferences and had also served the AAUP on the national level as a member of the national governing Council, the Committee on the Economic Status of the Profession, and the Committee on College and University Governance. He was also active in chapter and state-level AAUP leadership. Lang's longtime friend Stephen Weber, president of San Diego State University, sent the following tribute to mutual friends after Lang's death and agreed to let Academe publish it.
There are many forms of friendship: those that spring from shared experiences,
those that express a deep human affinity, those that reflect shared values. My friendship with George Lang was all those things. But there is another sort of friendship: the deepest and best friendships are those that make you a better person. Such was my friendship with George.
George and I first met when I was a fresh, wet-behind-the-ears, Dean of Arts and Sciences at Fairfield University. We were both in our mid-thirties. He was a mathematician learning computer science; I was a philosopher learning
administration.
There were half a dozen faculty members whom I would regularly seek out for advice; George was at the top of the list. I could always count on him to "see the whole board" and to counsel wise moves for the good of our college.
Here in the academy we speak a lot about the "life of the mind." But making a living with one's mind is not the same as living a life of the mind. George lived a life of the mind. He was intellectually curious. He questioned assumptions—not just of his discipline, but of the College of Arts and Sciences, of Fairfield University, of the AAUP, and of our society. George was (as we say in Maine) "wicked smart." He loved baseball and the arts—especially theater, frequently performing in amateur productions. Once when I was recruited to perform in a Greek play (because of my beard), my wife Susan remarked to George that he too had a beard and that, unlike me, he could actually act! George smiled and said, "Life is not always fair." Something of which I was particularly conscious when learning of his death last week.
George laughed readily, especially at himself. The following is from one of his last notes to me: "Our dean will take over as AVP at Loyola, Baltimore this summer. My offer for the interim position will come about a month after the Dalai Lama is elected president of the United States." It was easy for George to see the ironies of life. A few months ago he wrote: "You know I'm an advocate of Alfie Kohn's philosophy of dropping performance pay. Pay everyone enough that nobody feels they are being exploited, and then do everything you can to get their minds off of money. So, now I'm on the Arts and Sciences' committee to draft a merit pay plan for the college!"
George concluded that e-mail with the following: "It's time to share some multi-variable calculus with some eager minds (they really are pretty good—no complaints about students from me)." In retrospect, it pleases me that I ended my response with, "George, you are a treasure"—as, indeed, he was.
George was professionally and politically engaged. He cared about where we were going as a species, as a nation, and as educators. And he worked to influence the direction of that progress in positive ways.
George worked to make Fairfield a better university. That work was not always welcome, but I like to think that Fairfield was always good enough to respect George and his contributions.
George worked to make the AAUP better. George was not just a member of AAUP, he rolled up his sleeves and was involved at state and national levels. You may have seen AAUP president Cary Nelson's tribute to George on behalf of the AAUP, speaking of George's "principled, selfless dedication to academic freedom, shared governance, and the AAUP." When I heard of George's death I wrote to Roger Bowen, [former] general secretary of the AAUP, saying that the AAUP and I had lost a good friend. Roger responded, "As have I."
And George worked to make me better. Though he never said it, I think George's view of academic administration was best summed up in the phrase, "A mind's a terrible thing to waste." But, at the same time, he kept hoping for administrative courage and enlightenment.
When we were in junior high, I am sure you sat at the "cool kids'" table. I assure you, I did not. (I suspect George did not either.) But as life went on George's intellect, and wit, and caring earned him a seat at the "cool kids'" table. Perhaps that is because there comes a time (well after junior high) when substance triumphs over appearance. And, being the charitable person he was, occasionally George would invite me to play with the "big kids": a dinner party with him, his wife Mary Beth, and friends at their house, a day of movies in New York, a baseball game with the guys. I relished those moments.
I was and am proud of my friendship with George. Unlike the "cool kids" in junior high, George made me a better person. George's letters always ended "Peace, George" as does this note: Peace, George.
A reflection: Some friendships are aved by separation and distance. I knew George before we each grew into our "adult" roles: his as an AAUP chapter organizer and faculty advocate; mine as an academic administrator. It is quite possible that had I remained at Fairfield University, George and I would have found ourselves on opposite sides of the table.
I would like to believe that our friendship would have remained intact, but the demands of our different roles (which were and are not accidental to either of us) might have prevented that. It is important to realize that the person "across the table" is often someone who would, in a different time and place, have been a good friend. Like George and me, you might have shared an appreciation of bright, supportive wives; your kids might have played soccer together; you might have commiserated about the challenges of being Cub Scout leaders. While the professional roles we play express who we are, we are all more than those roles. Sometimes it is friendships transcending professional roles and responsibilities that make us who we are.
Stephen Weber
President
San Diego State University
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