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By Root 822 0

surprise was the For Sale sign on her lawn. Plastered over it like a badge of pride was the word “SOLD.” I’d known that Shirley was selling her home; I’d even known that she would, no doubt, be leaving the university and moving away from Oklahoma. But the realization of those facts only hit me as I saw the sign. I could not help feeling remorse mixed with guilt that it was so. Directly and indirectly, Shirley had borne the brunt of much of the local political animosity aimed at me and had decided that she would no longer stand for it. In the fall she would return to her native Wisconsin and continue her teaching career there. As I got to her home, I realized how much I would miss her presence, though I respected and even admired her decision to leave.

The attacks started as soon as we returned to Oklahoma from Washington, D.C. The most adamant and vocal of my detractors was Leonard Sullivan, a state politician. He began his campaign in an open letter demanding that the university buy out my contract. In his letter, which ran unedited in the student paper, the Oklahoma Daily, he called me a “lier” (sic) and likened my presence on campus to the presence of the Black Panthers. Another individual who can only be described as a local character, E. Z. Million, whose now deceased father was once a colleague on the law faculty, joined Sullivan in his campaign against me. Million even called for the resignation of Dean David Swank and Associate Dean Teree Foster. Sullivan and Million expanded their attack to include Shirley Wiegand. Through the state Open Records Act, Million succeeded in getting all the correspondence of Professor Wiegand before and after the hearing. He first sought to prove that Shirley had traveled to Washington in my support at the taxpayers’ expense. When this proved to be baseless, he accused her of neglecting her duties to her students in order to go to Washington. This proved untrue as well, yet Million continued to make the claim.

To my surprise and appreciation, two state legislators, Ed Crocker, a Democrat, and Bruce Niemi, a Republican, disagreed publicly with Sullivan. In a letter to the University of Oklahoma president, Richard Van Horn, the two pointed out that the state’s constitution protects educators from opposition by politicians. They expressed incredulity at the claims of political extremism raised by Sullivan. The regents at the university refused to take any action and that should have been the end of it. However, a public statement by President Van Horn gave Sullivan and Million the best opening to continue their crusade. In comments issued on Wednesday, October 16, the day following the confirmation vote, the university president announced that action against faculty could only be taken on issues that “relate directly and substantially to his or her professional capabilities or performance.” Sullivan appeared to take the comments as an invitation and almost immediately began to challenge my competence to teach at the university, suggesting that I was hired only because of affirmative action, even claiming that the procedure whereby I was granted tenure had been flawed.

Million’s and Sullivan’s efforts to drive me from the campus would continue for years following my testimony. Their tactics included a series of burdensome requests for documents and files from the law faculty that referred to me—none of which contained any reference to the hearing. By spring of 1992 I was worn-out. According to university policy, I was eligible for a sabbatical. Though the regents granted my sabbatical request, they did so after a debate that was unprecedented and appeared to be directed at only my application. Sullivan called for the abolishment of the sabbatical leave program. The regents took it upon themselves to review the process for all faculty.

One day a secretary discovered two clean-cut middle-aged white men dressed in dark suits and ties rummaging through the recycle bin in the basement of the administration building where I was working. They left abruptly as she approached, leaving behind