The Donation

by Wayne Lerner

The email arrived unannounced. A cold call. An over-the-transom letter. He had no idea what was going to hit him. 

No ding, swoosh or chord announced its arrival. Nope. The academic elitist researcher, now University President, linked his email arrivals to Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. 

“Dr. Carton,” it read. “My name is Peter Howard. I am an alumnus of your University with two graduate degrees from the School of Allied Health. And I have done pretty well for myself. Your director of development, Mrs. Gardner knows this. She calls me just about every other week to see if I want to increase the $250,000 contribution I made last year. 

I am ready to talk about another contribution but this one much larger. Many universities have been the recipients of large alumni endowments which have been linked to naming rights. What would it cost me to name the School?” 

“By the way, if you think this is a scam or I’m not serious, talk to Mrs. Gardner or read the links I have attached below. In particular, the article from Forbes should take away any concerns you might have. Thank you for your consideration. I look forward to a timely response.” 

Dr. Carton had no idea who Peter Howard was. Since taking office five years ago, he had established an MO that was known throughout the University community: manage the Board meetings and suck up to the seven figure donors.  

Carton called Debbie Gardner and told her about the email he received. “Should I respond? Is this guy for real? He could have made up that Forbes story, you know.” 

“Stop!” Gardner exclaimed. “Don’t do anything until we talk. I’m on the way over to your office now. Dr. Howard is one of the wealthiest donors on our prospect list. I’ve been trying to meet with him for months. Now that he’s interested in us, we can’t afford to blow it! But, you have to be careful with Dr. Howard. He’s outspoken and has a somewhat erratic persona. I can help you manage him.” 

26.2 hours later, Peter’s phone dinged with an email from President Carton. 

“Mr. Howard, thank you so much for your remarkable letter. Yes, we would be very interested in talking with you about naming rights for the School. I would love to set up a time to discuss this person-to-person, either over the phone or by Zoom. And, finally, yes, Mrs. Gardner has diligently done her job by staying in touch with you, one of our most esteemed alumni.” 

Peter smirked as he read the email. 

I knew I would get a quick response, but what a douche. Even with an MD and a PhD, he uses adverbs in his letter. What’s the matter with him? Where did he learn how to write? Medical school? 

Three days later the call took place. 

“Dr. Carton, thank you so much for arranging this meeting. As I said in my note, I’m a dedicated alum, committed to the school, my graduate program and profession. It’s because of them that I have had the chance to become so successful. Now I want to give back to the University.” 

“That’s so generous of you, Mr. Howard. Excuse me, I should say Dr. Howard. We are excited to discuss how the donation could be constructed to meet both your and our needs.” 

“Great,'' Peter replied, “but I have a few conditions. One is more important than the others.” 

“Oh,” Carton said. “And what may I ask are the conditions?” 

“The main one is I want the Dean of the School of Allied Health gone.” Silence. More silence. 

Peter looked to see if the call had been disconnected. It hadn’t been. Just silence. 

It felt like minutes to Peter but it was only a few seconds when Dr. Carton finally cleared his throat and responded. 

“I don’t think we’ve ever had a request quite like that, sir. Can I ask why you feel this condition is necessary to make the donation?” 

“Sure.” Peter replied. “That asshole dissed me, he disrespected me, several times when I was sitting on the alumni advisory board. He treated me like I was some putz from the southside of Chicago who didn’t know nothing and had no background or expertise.” 

Peter didn’t know it but, at that moment, Dr. Carton put the call on mute and whispered to his assembled staff. 

“What’s a putz?” 

“Shhh,” they responded in unison.”We will tell you later. Just play along and don’t upset him. He’s very close to giving us the funds for the School!” 

Carton unmuted his phone as Peter Howard continued with his conditions. 

“Furthermore, the Provost put this guy into the Dean position over the objections of the search committee, someone who had never had senior academic administrative experience. He is a fucking researcher just like the Provost. They both should be gone. What do either of them know about leading people or even understanding the roles and functions of the departments within the school? I’ll leave the Provost to you. I have my sights set on the Dean. He’s paid no attention to the departments whose alumni have given the most money to the School. All he cares about are the esteemed research departments with the largest NIH grants.” 

“Sir, you do not need to talk to me like that,” Carton interjected. “I’m sure there is another way to get your point of view across. But I get your message.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Doctor,” Peter replied in an obvious sarcastic tone.  

“It’s my upbringing. It comes out when I get excited and I’m excited now. I’ll just calm down and try to remember that I am talking to the President of the University.” 

“Just so we are clear on the offer, President Carton. I’m willing to meet your asking price to name the School. In fact, I’ll give you substantially more for scholarships for needy students, but the Dean is gone. He’s history! And he’s gone before the donation is announced. I don’t care if you retain him as an assistant professor in his department or a janitor in the building. That schmuck is outa here!” 

Carton muted his phone again. 

“Schmuck?” Carton mouthed to his staff. 

“Later!” they replied in unison again. 

Silence. More silence. 

Then President Carton replied. 

“We really could use your donation to accelerate the programs within the School and, especially, for your graduate program. And we certainly could use the extra money to help us recruit needy students to our campus.” 

The President took a breath and continued. 

“I am going to have to talk with my executive team in more depth about your conditions.We must give them the complete consideration they deserve. They are a bit unusual, you see. However, you can be sure we will take the request seriously. I’ll get back to you promptly.” 

“Thank you, Dr. Carton,” Peter said. “I’ll look forward to your response. Several weeks later, the email from Dr. Carton arrived.

“Dr. Howard,” it read. “We have given your request and donation requirements careful thought. We will agree with your conditions. Please call me so we can make the final arrangements.”  

A big cheshire cat smile formed on Peter’s face. 

Shit! Great! Money talks. Cash is always king. And that’s how the big university can bow to the wishes of a southside Chicago guy. The Dean is history. 

The call was set up for the following week. The parties talked through the conditions and reviewed the press releases. Special attention was paid to the timeline for making the donation and removing the Dean from his position. 

“This is all fine with me, Mr. President,” Peter said. “I’ll have the first installment of the money transferred to the development office account as soon as we get off the call.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Dr. Carton replied. “No one likes to be held hostage, but the size of your donation and the good it will do for the University, faculty and students is just too overwhelming.” 

and now the President’s voice got very quiet, 

“Besides, there is some validity to your concerns but I would appreciate it if you would never repeat that to anybody, ever.” 

“You can be sure of that, sir.” Peter said. “This will be between just you and me”… And the tape recorder I’ve got going. 

Peter continued. 

“Mr. President, not to be rude, please remember that the timeline and deadlines must be hit for the donations to be made. There’s to be no slack in the timeline or the deadlines. If missed, the deal's off.” 

“I understand that, Dr. Howard. You’ve made your point quite clear. And again I want to thank you for supporting the University. I hope we get the chance to meet

face-to-face as soon as the pandemic is under control. Maybe you could join me at an upcoming football game as my guest in the President's box? Have a good day and be safe.”  

“Thanks. You, too.” Peter said as he hung up the phone and smiled once more to himself. 

Silence. More silence. 

Peter felt something cold and wet on his nose. He tried to ignore it but it wouldn’t go away.

“Honey? Honey? Peter! You’ve got to get up for your 7 AM Zoom meeting with your boss. You piss him off one more time and you're out of a job, again! And walk your damn dog first!”

“Ohhhhh, fuck me.”