B Y - C H U C K - T O N E Y

UGA president Mike Adams—a former chief of staff for a U.S. senator—is a frequent visitor to Washington, where he serves as a respected spokesman on higher education issues

t's 9:38 on a March evening at Hartsfield International Airport in Atlanta. Mike Adams, the president of the University of Georgia, has been back in the United States for less than three hours, having just returned from a trip to Rome and Paris with his youngest son, who will be married soon.

"It really was a great trip," says Adams, after exchanging luggage with his wife, Mary, who met him at the international gate with a suitcase full of clean clothes for the next leg of his trip. "We ate pasta in Rome and sat where Cicero taught. In Paris, we sat at sidewalk cafes and watched people for hours. We did a lot of talking and a lot of reading and lot of resting. I'm ready to get back to work."

Adams' scheduled 9:30 flight to Washington—he's a participant in a panel discussion on the future of higher education at the National Press Club, sponsored by the National Governors' Association—has been delayed until 10:15 (and won't actually leave the ground until almost midnight). So he's eating a Burger King hamburger (beef wasn't on the menu in Europe because of the foot-and-mouth epidemic), reading the Atlanta Constitution, and inquiring about the fate of the Lady Dogs, who, he's disappointed to learn, were beaten by Missouri on the first weekend of the NCAA women's basketball tournament.

"Dr. Adams?" says a man who has walked over from a neighboring gate's seating area. "I'm Bill Griswold, an associate professor in the Grady College of Journalism and Mass Communication. I was wondering if there's been any progress on the search for a new dean."

This is the life of today's university president. On the job 24 hours a day, even between planes at Hartsfield. Fortunately, Mike Adams thrives on it.

HELP WANTED: University president with the fundraising magic of Midas, the vision of Moses, the patience of Job, and the ingenuity of Noah.

ike Adams is the most widely recognized and respected leader in higher education," says Stan Ikenberry, head of the American Council on Education, whose board Adams chaired during the 2000-01 year. "There is no doubt that he has raised the national profile of the University of Georgia through his service to ACE and to other higher education organizations."

And that's good for UGA because ACE is the coordinating higher education association and the leading advocate for higher education in Washington. Founded in 1918, its membership today includes some 1,800 colleges and universities across the spectrum of higher education, from large state universities like UGA to small community colleges.

As a board member of ACE and its year 2000 chairman, Adams has helped set strategy and policy for the organization to advance the goals of access to higher education and financial support for students. Gathered at the 2001 ACE convention, held in Washington in February, are some of the most recognizable university presidents in America, and the hum of influence and power literally throbs in the large halls where they gather. The president of the University of Georgia, though, is attracting more than his share of attention.

Attendees won't let Adams take five steps in the grand ballroom after he has passed the gavel to Janet Holmgren of Mills College, who will chair the ACE board for the next year. First, it's a Washington Times reporter, who wants to hear Adams' reaction to the keynote speech delivered by new Secretary of Education Rod Paige. A man representing international education agencies also wants a word. Adams, a longtime proponent of study abroad, directs him to an aide for a followup and the business card swap. Waiting in the wings is a young reporter from GOP-TV, who would like Adams to step to the back of the hall where her cameraman has his equipment set up.

U.S. News & World Report recently published a story under the headline "Why a good college chief is hard to find." David Warren, president of the National Association of Independent Colleges and Universities, is quoted in the story as saying that colleges and universities "want someone with the fundraising magic of Midas, the vision of Moses, the patience of Job, and the ingenuity of Noah."

And he's right. Today's university president is a far different creature than even 20 years ago, when the path to the presidency was professor, department head, associate provost, provost, president—an academic route from start to finish. While that is still the path for some presidential aspirants, things are changing rapidly. Today's university president is called on to raise money, to be a spokesperson for the institution, to lobby legislators, and to try to keep very disparate groups—faculty, students, staff, and alumni—happy with the direction the school is headed. Today's president, in Mike Adams' own words, "is not sitting in his office reading Cicero and hoping an undergraduate will drop by to discuss the text."

At UGA, which receives about 41 percent of its $1 billion-plus annual budget from the state, the president's role is as much about finding that other 59 percent as it is making curriculum decisions or moderating student debates.

Shortly after taking office, Adams reorganized UGA's administrative structure to reflect the new realities of the large public university. Instead of seven vice presidents reporting directly to the president, he created three senior vice president positions: the provost, who oversees the academic mission of the university; finance and administration; and external affairs, which is responsible for fundraising, alumni relations, and communications. Karen Holbrook, Hank Huckaby, and Kathryn Costello, respectively, fill those positions and allow Adams to travel where he must to advance the mission of UGA, to be an advocate for public and private support, and to serve as higher education's leading spokesman. This organizational structure is com- monly called the USC model, which Adams was exposed to as vice president for university affairs at Pepperdine University in California.

"I can afford to go to Washington to serve as chair of a national educational organization or to serve on a panel convened by the National Governors Association because I have absolute confidence that the daily activities of this university are well under control," says Adams. "I have been able to hire three people for those senior vice presidencies who are at the top of their professions."

Holbrook has been mentioned as a candidate for at least three university presidencies, Huckaby led the state's Office of Planning and Budget for four years, and Costello is nationally recognized for her success in fundraising and institutional communications. Mike Adams hired the best people he could find and gave them wide-ranging authority so he would be able to devote time to the University's strategic priorities.

Adams' organizational structure, with three senior vice presidents who run the University on a day-to-day basis, gives him the freedom to raise money—and UGA's national profile.

started out after graduate school thinking I would follow the traditional professorial route," says Adams. "I had written a dissertation on Southern senatorial politics, and had learned that I liked politics and campaigns. Subsequently, I had opportunities to be a practitioner as well as a theorist.

"I did some background research on Howard Baker's opponent the summer of Watergate and had the opportunity to go to work for Baker's Senate office—but I was under contract at Ohio State, so I turned him down. He asked again and I turned him down; when he asked the third time, I told Mary, 'I can always get a teaching job, but this opportunity may not come my way again.'

"I had thought about administration; I had 60 graduate hours in higher education administration. In my five years with Baker, I discovered I was pretty good at administration. I had caught the bug."

our years ago, when the Board of Regents announced that the 21st president of the University of Georgia was Michael F. Adams, president of Centre College in Kentucky, many people wondered who he was and whether he could make the leap from a small liberal arts college to a large land-grant university. But Adams' interest in national higher education leadership was well established at that point. He had spent six years on the executive committee and a year as chair of the National Association of Independent Colleges and Universities, an organization that represents the interests of small colleges, as well as Vanderbilt, Stanford, and the Ivy League. Adams was also chair of the Commission on Colleges of the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools, the accrediting organization for colleges, universities, and public K-12 education from Virginia to Texas.

"I have normally kept one major outside interest since I've been in higher education administration," says Adams. "It gives me a perspective on UGA that I can't get anywhere else because I'm able to hear directly from other presidents and administrators. I think it's enormously valuable, not only to me but to this institution, for the president of the University of Georgia to sit on a board with the presidents of Berkeley and Harvard. I have learned things from those kinds of relationships that I could not learn anywhere else, and the University benefits from that.

"Federal policy and political processes are areas where I believe I have specialized expertise, and I believe I have helped higher education as a whole—and UGA, in particular—because of that, just as other presidents with other expertise and experience have helped me."

t's 7:05 a.m. in the expansive lobby of the Marriott Wardman Park Hotel in Washington, on Feb. 20, 2001. Mike Adams wants a newspaper, and not the USA Today he found outside his door. He wants a Washington Post, a habit from his days as speechwriter and chief of staff to Howard Baker in the late 1970s—but the newsstand isn't open. In less than an hour, he'll be presiding at a breakfast attended by more than 120 college and university presidents where Terry Hartle, chief government relations officer for ACE, will present his observations about the George W. Bush administration and its views on higher education. Yesterday, Richard Atkinson, the president of the University of California system, announced to an ACE audience that he would propose eliminating the SAT from that system's admissions procedures. Ever the insightful listener, Adams points out that Atkinson did not call for the elimination of standardized tests, just the SAT.

"We will have to continue using some sort of standardized instrument because the high schools in Georgia are so disparate," he says on his way to the breakfast, passing Miles Brand of Indiana University, another president who has been in the news more than he would like because of his recent firing of Bobby Knight as men's basketball coach.

he members of the Knight Foundation Commission on Intercollegiate Athletics are gathered around a large rectangular table at the Willard Intercontinental Hotel in Washington in March. The report of the first Knight Commission, issued eight years ago, reasserted the need for "institutional control" of athletics on college campuses and specifically called for presidential involvement and oversight in athletics. The commission has been reconvened to take a deeper look at college athletics, and Mike Adams is a member.

Over the course of six months, the Knight Commission has heard reports from organizations and individuals on the state of college athletics: coaches and athletic directors, student-athletes, conference commissioners, representatives of the NBA and the NFL, faculty critics of big-time college sports, and reporters. Through it all, one concern has risen to the top: the "financial arms race" in college athletics today.

"The excesses of college athletics—poor graduation rates, serious discipline problems, coaches' salaries—have served as a wakeup call to many of today's college and university presidents," says Adams. "I believe we're very close to college athletics becoming indistinguishable from professional sports, and that would be a tragedy."

During one break, Adams leans against a marble column just out of the spray of light from the crystal chandeliers 15 feet above the floor and compares notes with SEC commissioner Roy Kramer. During another break, as Adams munches on a chocolate-chip cookie, the NCAA's chief governmental relations officer comes over to ask if he will agree to speak to a group of corporate sponsors at the NCAA's annual convention in San Diego. Adams says yes.

The irony is that Mike Adams' tenure on the Knight Commission coincided with a high-profile athletic decision —the dismissal of the head football coach—and followed closely on the heels of the hiring of a men's basketball coach. As president, Adams has steadfastly maintained that it is his responsibility to take action when matters in athletics—or in any other department on campus—rise to the level of "institutional concern."

"The notion that a university president who gets involved in athletics is meddling is not just troublesome, it's dangerous," he says. "I didn't come to UGA to be president of everything except athletics. Coach Dooley hires and fires coaches, and I'm involved in that, as I should be. There are six positions at UGA that set the tone for the public's perception of the institution: athletic director, football coach, men's basketball coach, provost, head legal advisor, and the president. There's not going to be any change in those positions without my involvement."

Adams has, however, been described as trigger-happy, an image that those who have seen him at close range know to be untrue. He is not afraid to make the decisions an effective president must make, but he does not take those decisions lightly—or make them in haste. He is deliberative, gathering information and ideas, mulling over options. He doesn't claim to make the right decision every time, but he also knows that just making a decision is oftentimes the important part.

ike Adams is making a Rotary Club speech in May in Gwinnett County, telling his audience that while UGA needs Gwinnett County—because it sends more students to the University than any other county in America—Gwinnett County needs UGA just as badly. "You need us as a place to do the kind of research that addresses the problems of one of the fastest growing counties in the country," he says. "And you need us to perform the kind of public service that we're charged to perform as the state's land-grant institution."

Afterwards, a dozen people come forward to introduce themselves and ask questions. One is the proud father of an incoming freshman. Another asks Adams about athletic issues. A third, who was a fraternity member at UGA, is concerned about "rumors we'll be moved off Lumpkin."

Adams fields the questions characteristically, supplying in-depth answers and perspective that frame the inquiry in terms of UGA's overall goals and strategic plan.

"I'm the one who's paid to see the bigger picture," he often says. "I'm the one who has to ask, 'Is this good for the University of Georgia?'"

ike Adams is one of those people who never seems ill at ease. He is comfortable in the formal environment of a black-tie dinner at the Fox Theatre in Atlanta for the UGA Partners Program. But he also enjoys lunch at the Normaltown Cafe. He's been known to kick off his dress shoes during an interview and put his feet on the coffee table. He has a mischievous sense of humor, likes to take his boat out on Lake Oconee, and really enjoys UGA baseball.

Adams' attention to detail is noteworthy. As he walks across campus on his way to a meeting with faculty, he picks up scraps of paper tossed on the sidewalk and puts them in his pocket. Draft copies of documents sent for his review return with sentences reworded and semicolons replacing commas. He remembers the names of staff members' spouses, even if he hasn't seen them in months.

"I've always thought that if you get the little things right, the big things will follow," he says. "I had a fourth grade teacher who must have said to me 700 times that year, 'Mike, pay attention.' To this day, I hear her saying, 'Mike, pay attention.'

"During my years on Senator Baker's staff, I learned that most good things happen in the middle of the playing field, that you get to the end zone because of planning and execution. Baker knew that to get things done in a country as diverse as this, we must create coalitions.

"I've tried to do that in my career in higher education. I try to listen to as many constituencies as I can and to find something of value in each position. Ultimately, of course, it's my responsibility to make a decision, and not everybody is going to be happy with every decision I make. But I hope that people are comfortable with the process—and feel that if they wanted to say something, I wanted to hear them."

he National Governors Association has invited Adams to participate in a panel discussion on the future of higher education. From the makeup of the panel, it's clear that the governors think the future of higher education is online education; the four education representatives on the panel are Mike Adams; the president of the Western Governors University, a virtual university created by the governors of several western U.S. states; the president of Sylvan Learning Systems, the longtime high school tutoring service which is now attempting to expand into higher education; and the president of the Kentucky Virtual University. When an aide mentions that this "looks like a setup," Adams simply grins.

Claudio Sanchez, NPR's education reporter, moderates the discussion, which includes a pair of education analysts; the governors of Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Kentucky; the chair of a Texas education reform panel; and a vice president from Cisco Systems. After a series of comments praising distance education, Sanchez turns to Adams:

"Dr. Adams, is the University of Georgia fearful of this trend?"

"I'm not even fearful about where this conversation is going," Adams replies, prompting a laugh from the crowd. "We should have this kind of conversation about where we're going and why. What does concern me is that we are too prone to generalize. There are niches and markets and needs for higher education that can only be met with a range of options.

"There is no one size that fits all. I do want to say this: One topic we haven't talked about is research. Who's going to do the research that universities and colleges have done if the brick-and-mortar institutions are replaced by online courses?" Adams' question is met with silence. In fact, the panel looks a little chagrined until, after 10 very long seconds, someone acknowledges the need for university-based research.

"You can't do tissue-based genomics—as we're doing at the University of Georgia—over a computer," says Adams. "The computer is a tool for sharing information and communicating with other researchers. The notion that we're going to invest all these dollars in technology and meet the needs of the students begs the question of faculty. We've got to have both. It's got to be a public-private partnership; those of us in higher education are going to have to be more responsive and accountable, and the states are going to have to commit the resources so we can offer options to meet all the needs."

acation is over. That's what crosses Mike Adams' mind as he shakes Bill Griswold's hand at Hartsfield and tells him, "We are close to making an announcement on the Grady College dean, and I'm enthusiastic about the candidate." Griswold is familiar with the candidate and speaks highly of him. Adams thanks him, and Griswold returns to his seat.

"I should write him a note," says Adams, as he reopens the paper and takes another bite of his hamburger.

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