Willy Loman and the Academic World

I used to go to a regional conference in Chicago about this time every year. It was held in the Bismarck Hotel on the Loop. The Bismarck had been a grand old hotel that had fallen onto hard times. Someone asked about the accommodations there, and I told them that I usually stayed in Willy Loman's old room.

Willy Loman was the downtrodden hero of Arthur Miller's play Death of a Salesman. He was the epitome of the guy who kept grabbing for the brass ring only to have it slip through his fingers over and over again. The process finally wore him down.

Thinking about the Bismarck and poor old Willy got me thinking about being downtrodden in academia. Contrary to popular perception, the academy can be a pretty harsh and cruel place. Most academics have one thing in common -- they want to be heard. As a result, like the Inferno, there are a number of circles in academia:

The Top Rung. This is where everyone wants to be. This is the abode of the Superstar Professor -- top rank university, endowed chair, princely salary, constant invitations to speak at conferences worldwide. CNN wants to know what they think. This is being Heard. While they are most often not recognized on the street, they are icons on campus and at meetings. Their classrooms are packed with students, and when they read a paper, the audience spills out into the hallway. The world hangs on their every Word. This is the brass ring, ladies and gentleman.

Flash in the Pan. These folk were once on their way. They had their terrain, and the world was noticing. And then the world went in another direction. They can still draw crowds at regional meetings, and still get their work published. But not as much and not as quickly. And some of it gets sent back. Students hang around, but few of these students hitch their wagons to these fallen stars....

The Adjuncts. These are the genuine victims of academia. Something went askew, and they got tossed into the bottomless pit. The conditions are harsh -- no pay, massive course loads at multiple marginal schools, no chance of advancement. No school will ever hire someone full time if they can get him as an adjunct. They either have a day job (many adjunct courses are at night) or they live in poverty. The saddest of the lot are working on papers that no one will publish or a book that might as well be scratched out in sand on the beach.

Everyone knows these three categories. This post is really about the huge hidden lot of academic toilers. I call them --

The Legion of Willy. You know these people. Ph.D. from a decent university. Got a job just slightly down the pecking order from their alma maters. Got two or three publications placed in respectable journals in time to get tenure. Were promoted to Associate Professor. This is where most of them linger, until they retire.
Most of the time, they hang around campus. Once or twice (if they can finagle the money) they head off to present papers at conferences. Most schools will give them travel money if they have a paper on the program. Many of them shoot for the mega-conferences in their fields, where they present along with 10,000 to 30,000 of their confreres.
So here is a typical conference trip. First comes the airplane flight. When they get to the conference city, they look to use the coupons (that came in their conference packets) for the airport shuttle bus. They cram into buses with masses of other professors, and head off the the one-to-ten conference hotels. Most often, they share a room with a colleague or a mate from graduate school. Once in the rooms, they unpack their wardrobes. The men wear either blue blazers with lots of brass buttons, or tweed coats with leather patches. The standard pants are Dockers, but the more daring wear jeans. The women run the gamut from Liz to Claiborne. Breakfast is always in the hotel. When funds are tight, lunch is at Subway. When times are a bit better, lunch is at the dining area at the Conference Center. The average wait in line for lunch is 45 minutes. Willy Lomans learn patience early.
On presentation day, they scurry to arrive early. The lucky ones have a place on a paper panel, in a room that looks like a refurbished cloakroom. If they are lucky, the session might draw double-digit attendees. Quite often, the presenters outnumber the audience. The rest are sent to post papers on a board for others to read as they wander by, or else they camp out at a table with (always) too many copies of the paper or handouts for the handful of people who actually sit down to hear a discussion about the paper. When they are done, they get the concierge at the Conference Center to book reservations for dinner at a moderately priced restaurant nearby. By the end of the meeting, it is time to re-pack, catch the shuttle bus, and wing homewards.

So what makes a professor into a Willy Loman? In one sense, the have nothing to complain about. They are among the most secure people on earth. But they are not Heard. So they write things that no one needs to Hear. This is the heart of their tragic circumstances....

gary