Kara Christensen
Look for the good. This is the last thing Tom and Doug Lee hear each time they leave home. Mary Jo, their mom, says, “If we had a family crest, joy would be in the center of it.”
As he leaves South Dakota State University, the head of the Lee family will undoubtedly follow his own advice. After 24 years as head of the Department of Journalism and Mass Communication, Richard W. Lee, 67, will retire in June.
No one is happy about it.
Jack Getz, associate professor of journalism, recalls the faculty meeting last fall when Lee announced his retirement in the Lakota/Dakota conference room of Yeager Hall, the journalism building.
“There were 10 people sitting around that table, all of them on the verge of tears,” Getz says. “And I thought to myself, I don’t know of another academic department where that would be true.”
It’s as though everyone is Lee’s favorite, Getz said. Every student, every faculty member, every colleague and every alumnus.
Betty Nelson, department secretary, predicts the tears will be worse when Lee actually leaves.
“It’s going to be just one solid mass of puddle,” she said. Already, a tear rolls down her cheek. Describing him makes Nelson, normally animated and talkative, pause.
“Oh, God, where do you start?” she asks, sighing and rubbing her eyes. “It’s so hard to put words because the words seem so minute next to what he actually is.”
Journalism in
the genes
On a Wednesday afternoon in March, the man causing such sadness listens to jazz music in his office, a smile below dark blue eyes and black, square wire glasses.
Journalism seems to be part of his DNA. His grandfather was a weekly newspaper editor, followed by his father and later Lee himself.
On the wall behind him, 15 layers of small diamonds in rusty orange, caramel, chocolate brown and goldenrod burst into an eight point star quilt. To the left, his black L-shaped desk mixes old and new. A green I-Mac computer stands its ground amidst the troops of paper stacks that threaten to take over the desktop.
Lee sits at the square wooden table in the middle of the room, his dark brown hair streaked with silver and combed from the left. He wears olive green pants and a button-up white shirt with spring green pinstripes that gently curve over his stomach. Three pens peek out of the left pocket.
Along the wall to his right is a wooden cabinet filled with books, many signed by their authors. The cabinet rests beneath an old Speed Graphic camera, figurines of a newspaper boy and delivery truck, a bronze man holding a Post-It sized copy of the Washington Star.
On the green wall above the cabinet is the bustling newsroom of Norman Rockwell’s Country Editor. Next to it, a framed black and white photo seems to hold the country editor himself, a mirror image complete with typewriter, vest and creaky wooden chair.
Lee points to the man in the photo; his chin and neck blend into his collar as his mouth widens beneath a square mustache.
“That’s my grandfather,” he said in his deep, gravely voice. He grins and his eyebrows jump.
Born 67 years ago on Christmas Day in Belleville, Ill., Billy Lee began his journalism career at age 6. His father was editor of the Marissa Messenger, a weekly newspaper published in southern Illinois. Until he was 8, Lee dictated The Cub’s Column to his mother, Toots, who also typed the personal ads.
“I just wrote about the world around me,” Lee says. His environment was to change several times before he landed in Brookings.
From 1956 to 1959, he was a United States Air Force lieutenant in Germany. He earned a bachelor’s degree from the University of Illinois at Urbana, a master’s degree from Southern Illinois University at Carbondale and a doctorate in mass communication from the University of Iowa at Iowa City.
Lee taught five years at Southern Illinois University and nine years at the University of Maryland in College Park before coming to SDSU in 1978. His previous experiences as editor of the Marissa Messenger and part-time copy editor of the Washington (DC) Star show up in the stories he is known for telling.
Living vicariously: putting students first
Each person is a worthwhile story to Lee, evidenced by the names swirling around him like autumn leaves in the wind. He seems to prefer telling their stories to telling his own.
He walks to his desk and pulls from the nearest drawer a bulging manila folder, something he calls his “warm fuzzies file.” This is something he likes to have handy when introducing students to the department.
“It’s just full of neat little things,” he said, grinning like a small boy. He leafs through thank you cards, letters and magazines. “Just things that say the program is special.”
During his tenure, the journalism department has been re-accredited four times. His faculty credits him with establishing its national reputation as a model for a small journalism school.
Felix Gutierrez, former senior vice president and executive director of the Pacific Coast Center for the Freedom Forum, has known Lee for about 12 years. The Freedom Forum is a national philanthropic organization for journalism education. Gutierrez says his newsroom contacts respect SDSU’s journalism department for producing strong, professional graduates.
“South Dakota State has an excellent reputation as a great place to prepare for a newsroom career,” Gutierrez said. “And that reputation is national.”
Lee recently won the prestigious Freedom Forum award for Journalism Administrator of the Year. Earlier in January he was presented this award in London, but on Tuesday, the Freedom Forum held a special reception for Lee on the SDSU campus.
Lee was the driving force behind a $2.4 million building renovation, completed in 2000. But his most lasting accomplishment is perhaps less obvious.
“He’s ambitious for others,” Gutierrez says.
In his 24 years with the department, Lee nurtured an environment where others could succeed.
“The great thing about teaching and the great thing about this kind of life is that you can live vicariously,” Lee said seriously. “The students and the alumni are really the most exciting product of our work here.”
A 1984 product of the program is David Bordewyk, general manager of the South Dakota Newspaper Association. He’ll always remember Lee’s patience at their first meeting.
On a fall day in 1979, Bordewyk and a buddy drove three hours to Brookings from Corsica, a town of 600 people in southeastern South Dakota. They arrived late for the high school senior recruitment programs but went to the journalism department anyway.
Lee was the only one there.
He took the boys on a tour of the building, then talked with them for over an hour about their interests and backgrounds.
“That has stuck with me forever,” Bordewyk says. “Anyone who has gone through the journalism program probably has a similar story.”
Getz says he and the other journalism professors get a kick out of Lee’s enthusiasm with prospective students. For many, Lee is the first contact.
“Dick just sort of envelops them,” Getz says matter-of-factly. “I always envision Dick Lee giving people hugs because that’s what he does in a verbal sense.
Back in his office, Lee looks intent when asked why it’s so important for him to be the first contact with students. “If they remember that, then that’s the motivation,” he says.
Among his students, Lee is also remembered for becoming each semester the judge in the landmark John Peter Zenger libel case that established truth as a defense. When obedient media law students are allowed to open their eyes, they see Lee in a powder white, curly wig and a black robe, eager to teach them about the case.
“That was hilarious,” said student Becky Schultze. “It definitely caught my attention.”
Frank Robertson, a former student and now temporary photography teacher, said Lee’s relationships with students have always been amazing. Lee takes pride in each student’s achievement, pride for the student and not himself.
“His love for journalism really comes through and is exposed in his love for his students,” Robertson says. “I think his greatest accomplishment will always be his students.”
Lee’s professors admire his creativity and ability to see what students need. But they really appreciate the freedom he gives them to do the same.
“He assumes you’re a professional and pretty much lets you teach the way you think is best,” said Dennis Hinde, assistant professor of advertising and public relations.
It’s more fun to
be positive
Assistant Professor Jim Paulson said, “I just admire his faith in people. This man has faith in everybody.”
Associate Professor Mary Perpich has worked with Lee for 15 years. She says his hands-off management style has allowed her to blossom. No lectures, no orders.
“It’s remarkable, and we’ll never find that again,” she says. “I’ve been able to become my own person in this job.”
Although Lee avoids criticizing, Perpich says she can tell how much he’s suppressing by the color of his face. She’s seen it go purple. But Lee never says anything awful about anyone.
“That’s why he’s so popular,” she grins. “He also probably has high blood pressure.”
Lee’s positive nature is so prevalent that no one remembers seeing him angry.
When asked why, Lee almost seems embarrassed. He laughs, buries his head and rolls a black ballpoint pen across the table with his left hand, his wrist encircled by the gray band of his digital watch. He explains that his dad had a calm disposition and was equally positive.
“It’s a lot more fun than being negative,” he said with a chuckle. He prefers to focus on the joy, and has done so, even through tough times.
Like peanut
butter and jelly
Lee’s first wife, Gail, died of cancer in 1974, leaving him with two small boys to raise alone until 1982 when he married his second wife, Mary Jo. She adopted Tom, now 34, and Doug, now 29. They’re her children in every way, she says.
Lee and Mary Jo compliment each other like peanut butter and jelly. Where Lee is spontaneous or unorganized, Mary Jo is structured and orderly. As a single parent, Lee would be too lenient and she would be too harsh, Mary Jo says. When Doug, who has epilepsy, was in high school, they took turns helping him with homework for hours every night, then again on the weekends. Doug graduated college with two bachelor’s degrees, one in education and the other in library science.
Although Mary Jo is diversity coordinator for the engineering department, Lee says they really work as a team in the journalism building. She says the fun part of doing things together is their different strengths.
His work is her work and vice versa. At journalism department events, the exuberant Mary Jo, a sparkle in her light blue eyes, is never far from Lee. She has the background, too?a bachelor’s and a master’s in journalism, plus work experience.
“She’s really a key ingredient to all that I do,” Lee said, leaning back with his hands behind his head.
Across campus in her own office, Mary Jo says Lee was the one who encouraged her to pursue her 1998 doctorate degree. The two taught in China for the spring of 1991, and Mary Jo later wanted to return for her doctoral dissertation research. In 1997, Lee applied to teach in China for another three months so she could.
“We each try to put the other’s best interests first simultaneously,” Mary Jo says.
They’ve never had a serious argument, she says. Never. He still pulls her chair out for dinner every night, and on Fridays they cook Chinese food together, followed by a comedy or mystery movie.
“We’ve known each other a quarter of a century, and I’m still as giggly and as gaga as I was 25 years ago,” she said, grinning. “I’m crazy about him.”
Associate Professor Roxanne Lucchesi said joy seems to be Lee and Mary Jo’s favorite word. “I think that’s how they both approach life together,” Lucchesi said.
The Lee house seems to attract happiness and great parties like a giant magnet. Many hope that continues. On Easter Sunday, for example, the Lees invited four Chinese friends to their home for what Mary Jo calls a traditional American Easter. They dyed eggs, hunted for candy-filled plastic eggs and enjoyed a dinner together. The night before, Mary Jo and Lee were still up at 1:30 a.m., filling baskets with goodies for their guests.
Both friend and boss
Lee’s compassion for those around him has influenced his relationships with his faculty. Many call him friend, as well as boss.
Associate Professor Doris Giago originally met Lee when she was an undergraduate student during the 1980s. She says he was her guardian angel as she recovered from a divorce and raised two small children. Occasionally, he babysat her kids.
It was she who gave him the star quilt that hangs in his office.
“You know,” Giago said in her soft voice, looking up with tears in her brown eyes. “The closer we get to his retirement, the harder it is.”
She admires Lee’s insight, his ability to see the bigger picture, his tolerance, his wisdom and his sense of humor.
Since the spring of 1993, the two have taken advanced reporting students on special writing projects to reservations across the state. Giago, a member of the Oglala Lakota tribe, says she suggested emphasizing Native American culture in the classroom. Lee agreed. He strives for journalism education that mirrors the real world.
Reaching out to focus on diversity
Lee and Giago also helped organize the annual Native American Newspaper Career Conference, which is held at the Crazy Horse Memorial in Custer. The department is known across campus for emphasizing diversity.
Laurie Stenberg Nichols, dean of Family and Consumer Sciences, knows Lee from his support for a campus program that works with Native American students from high school to a tribal college and eventually to a SDSU degree.
She calls him a pioneer on campus in working with Native Americans and says his work with the newspaper conference is phenomenal.
Added to the 2000 building renovation, the circular Lakota/Dakota conference room reminds students and staff that Native Americans are important to the state. The room has a blue-sky ceiling, Native American paintings and a circular red wooden table that surrounds a 4-foot wide drum.
“He was way ahead of the game when it came to diversity,” Giago said. “He valued Native American journalism students and including tribal voices in the media long before diversity was a buzzword in higher education.”
Lee’s desire to include everyone doesn’t end there. Other SDSU departments told Jim Vipond, who has autism, that he wouldn’t be able to major in their programs. Lee didn’t.
Vipond earned his bachelor’s and master’s degrees from the journalism program and now works as a copy editor for the Brookings Register. But Lee doesn’t take credit for Vipond’s success. Lee says the friendliness of the journalism department simply provided the right environment for Vipond’s skills.
As an adviser, Lee was understanding and gave good advice, Vipond said.
“He did all he could, and he really helped me in college,” Vipond said. “I think he was one of the best faculty members I knew.”
Filling the void
For the next department head, filling the void will be a challenge, faculty members say. Some speculate Lee’s involvement with the department won’t end with his retirement.
Lee says he has never had a hard time staying busy, but the plan is not to have one.
Golfing, photography and cooking are three things he’ll continue to enjoy, and Mary Jo says the year will bring another trip to China.
His colleagues say they’ll miss his homemade pies and coffee cake, his management style and his connections with journalists across the nation. But most of all, they’ll miss him.
Danie Harrelson, a 2001 graduate of the program, said Lee showed her why journalism was a career worth chasing. She is sad other students will miss the same experience.
“When you strip away the man from the department,” Harrelson said, “you see how he held it up, gave it life, made it what it is.”
As for Lee, the paperwork is one thing he won’t miss.
“But I will miss the people,” he said seriously. “I’ll miss students, and I’ll miss faculty.”
The feeling is mutual.
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