Speaking Truth to Power - Anita Hill [166]
The 5–2 vote to accept the professorship was a moral victory. But that victory was undermined by a directive issued by President Van Horn that no university personnel could be involved in any way in raising funds for the professorship. Once again the Hill Professorship was singled out. Fund-raising for professorships had been conducted by the deans of the various colleges in conjunction with the development office since their introduction into the university.
Sullivan raised two baseless claims in order to kill the professorship. First, he attacked Segal’s desire to have me serve in the professorship as illegal. Second, he threatened to bring charges with the state attorney general’s office against the veteran fund-raiser Faricy. To reduce the “political heat,” one spokesperson for the president’s office asked me to issue a public statement declaring that I would not apply for the professorship. I was angered and offended by the request and effort, once again, to treat me differently than other faculty. I declined. President Van Horn backed down from the written assurances made to Faricy and Segal by the development office.
The threat of the lawsuit and the prohibition against university officials helping in the effort effectively stalled fund-raising. In order to maintain the integrity of the promises made to Segal and to the implicit promises made to the donors by the administration, including the regents, I began the task that I had rejected early in the process. Despite Van Horn’s directive, I committed myself to completing the private donations portion of the professorship. I had no fund-raising experience; I hated to ask people for money; I felt some conflict of interest in asking for support for a fund in which I might benefit. Nevertheless, the greater principle prevailed and I started an effort to raise the $125,000 needed to complete the project.
The donations for the professorship continued to come in a steady but slow stream. I had returned from my sabbatical tired but nevertheless reinvigorated. Yet the demands of fund-raising, acting as spokesperson against issues of gender and race bias, and teaching a full load began to weigh heavily. Moreover, I was still receiving calls from individuals who were victims of harassment at various stages of their claims. Many were in search of legal counsel; others were simply worn down by the process of pursuing their basic right to a work environment free of sex discrimination. I would start the day invigorated in anticipation of the Race and the Law course that I taught at 8:00, but by the end of the day after the calls and letters and requests, I was worn-out. I was without the administrative support to handle the load, even the mail and telephone calls I received. The five members of the secretarial staff at the law school were stretched to cover the thirty full-time faculty members.
Despite the fact that none of my work was political and all was related to the legal and social issues of discrimination, I became cautious about asking for help from the staff. Fearing that I would be accused of misappropriating state money by Million or Sullivan, who were monitoring my correspondence through Open Records Act requests, I hesitated to use the law school facilities for matters related to the issue of sexual harassment. Rose Martinez-Elugardo, who had been at the law school as a secretary during the time of the hearings, decided to leave the school in February 1994. We had become friends as well as colleagues. She knew the demands on my life and understood them as well as anyone. I was delighted when she agreed to assist me with my workload on a contract basis. She more than earned her pay. With her part-time assistance and through the help of others, most of whom volunteered their time, we managed to conduct the classes, speaking, referrals, and other assistance without a professional staff. Yet, without professional assistance