[Vision2020] 'A Strange Little Town in Texas'
Debbie Gray
dgray@uidaho.edu
Thu, 22 Apr 2004 09:42:17 -0700
Speaking of Jon Stewart and his lovely news show, did anyone see it
last night? He had a bit on a prof in Texas that wrote an article
about the people in his small town... and how, umm, stupid they are.
Here's an article about it...
http://www.detnews.com/2004/nation/0403/25/a11-102873.htm
Professor stirs tempest in Texas town
Acid-tongued teacher calls residents 'plain stupid;' cops now patrol
his street
By Lee Hockstader / Washington Post
ALPINE, Texas — The cowboys, ranchers, retirees, immigrants and
artists scattered around this sparse region of West Texas tend to
live and let live, drawn more by the immense spaces and dizzying
beauty than by one another. Cell phone service is now-you-see-it-now-
you-don’t, and it’s easier to glimpse a roadrunner than another car
when you drive through the region’s sumptuous desert mountains.
Atomized, loosely knit and fiercely individualistic, citizens here
are not much given to consensus. Or they weren’t until Larry Sechrest
came along and called them all a bunch of morons.
Sechrest, 56, is a jowly, acid-tongued economics professor at Sul
Ross State University, an institution best known for producing
schoolteachers and rodeo performers. The chain hotel manager has
lived in the little town of Alpine for 13 years, more or less without
incident. But it is not a gross overstatement to say that if an
unpopularity contest were held here these days, Sechrest might give
Saddam Hussein a run for his money.
In January, Sechrest published a 7,000-word article in Liberty, a
tiny libertarian journal, titled “A Strange Little Town in Texas.”
After dispensing with the things he likes about Alpine — great
climate, clean air, awesome scenery, low crime rate, friendly locals,
frontier spirit, robust theater scene — Sechrest came to his main
point.
“The secret problem is that the students at Sul Ross, and more
generally the long-term residents of the entire area, are appallingly
ignorant, irrational, anti-intellectual, and, well ... just plain
stupid,” he wrote.
Harsh, yes, but Sechrest, a libertarian himself who grew up near
Dallas, was just warming up. He dissed his students and neighbors as
“some of the dumbest clods on the planet,” and his fellow faculty
members as “mostly a waste of space.” As for the local schoolkids,
many “are only a notch above retardation,” he said.
What happened next was an object lesson in the perils of roiling the
waters in a placid small town — or, as City Council member Katie Elms-
Lawrence put it, “Sweetheart, you don’t defecate in your own back
yard.”
Having written the article last year, Sechrest sent it off to the
magazine, which is published in Washington state. He figured that was
that. He said he never imagined it would find its way back to Alpine,
population about 5,000.
Reaction come quick
Bad call. Not long after the magazine came out, around New Year’s,
the article began circulating in Alpine and on campus. The effect was
as if Sechrest had set off a colossal stink bomb.
Many wanted to know why, if Alpine and Sul Ross were filled with
airheads, Sechrest stayed. (He said it was because of the money — he
makes $96,000 a year as a professor — and his academic freedom, “most
likely because no one has any idea what I’m writing about.”) Almost
everyone in Alpine was furious. Most insisted Sechrest was simply
wrong.
In the parking lot at Sul Ross on a blustery day recently, Mario
Garcia, an alumnus, sat waiting for a friend in a pickup. A copy of
Sechrest’s article lay unread on the dashboard, but Garcia, 44, said
he knew enough about it to be ticked off.
“I’ve got friends who are graduates of this institution and are very
successful,” said Garcia, a high school teacher. “I have a friend who
graduated from here and developed the ham they use in the breakfast
sandwiches at Burger King.”
Geoffrey Zukowski, 26, a sophomore history major who returned to Sul
Ross recently after four years as a diesel mechanic in the Navy,
acknowledged that the school is more wrapped up in sports than in
scholarship, as Sechrest wrote.
“Sure, football is king — this is West Texas; it’s a way for the
community to escape from the many-year drought and the fact that it’s
hard to scratch a living from the dirt of West Texas,” he said. “But
the fact is that students at this campus get better educations than
those at larger campuses for the fact that they get more one-on-one
attention.”
As Sechrest’s article made the rounds, he received a torrent of e-
mail, some of it merely irate, some aggressively obscene. The local
newspaper and radio station denounced him. Vitriolic callers phoned
late into the evening. One night, someone smashed the windows of a
car parked outside his home. Another night, eggs were hurled at his
house.
There were two death threats, Sechrest said, both phoned in to his
campus office. The callers said they would “get” him and kill him.
“Not polysyllabic,” Sechrest said. “But, you know, effective.”
Classes cut
For years before Sechrest’s article appeared, he had been known at
Sul Ross for humiliating his students, university officials said.
He’d often vented to his colleagues about what he considered his
students’ intellectual shortcomings. “Students know I’m deadly
serious about things, and I expect them to be serious,” he said.
But he had never made an indictment so sweeping, or so public. And
though he protested that he meant no malice, that his article
contained “a core of truth,” and that it was in the tradition of Mark
Twain and Alexis de Tocqueville, Sechrest’s defense fell on deaf
ears.
The police, concerned for his safety, began sending a patrol car by
his home. Sechrest installed motion-sensor lights around his house,
at a cost of about $800. Like many people in West Texas, Sechrest is
a gun owner. He keeps a pair of .45-caliber stainless-steel
automatics at the ready, he said.
The reaction to Sechrest’s article didn’t stop at hostility. A
petition circulated on campus calling on students to boycott his
summer course offerings. Earlier this month, the university, citing
budget cuts, informed him that he would be teaching — and paid for —
just two summer courses, rather than the four he expected; the move
would slash his income by $12,000. Furious, Sechrest accused the
university of punishing him for his views and trying to drive him to
quit.
In town, the Alpine Chamber of Commerce and other concerned citizens
organized an “I Love Alpine” parade. A caravan of cars rolled down
Holland Avenue, Alpine’s main street, some bearing banners reading
“Dumb Clod Union” and “Dumber than Dirt.”
Sechrest refused to apologize, though he acknowledged that his
article may have been insulting and harsh. But when pressed, he said
that if he had it to do all over again, he wouldn’t write the
article.
“I was not trying to cause a furor,” he said. “I really didn’t expect
it.”
The president of Sul Ross, Vic Morgan, was philosophical. “Who knows?
There’s an old saying in showbiz — I don’t care what you say about
me, as long as you spell my name right.”
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Debbie Gray dgray@udaho.edu
Research Analyst 208-885-4017
University of Idaho
Department of Ag Economics and Rural Sociology
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