Indiana Alumni Magazine

Talking with Tavis

With his IU degree now in hand, Tavis Smiley continues to introduce Americans to each other.

By Marc D. Allan

Tavis as grand marshal of the Homecoming parade GRAND STYLE — Tavis Smiley, BS'03, had already gained prominence as an author and talk-show host when he returned to IU Bloomington in 1998 to be grand marshal of the Homecoming parade. Photo Randy Johnson.

Big Mama used to say, "Once a task you have first begun, never finish until it is done. Be the labor great or small, do it well or not at all." And when Big Mama spoke, young Tavis Smiley listened.

That's why, 16 years after he should have graduated from the IU School of Public and Environmental Affairs with a bachelor's degree in public affairs, the author and host of National Public Radio's "Tavis Smiley Show" and star of public television's "Tavis Smiley Show" heeded the advice of Big Mama — his family's loving nickname for his maternal grandmother — and finally finished his coursework.

Smiley didn't need the degree. When you've written six books (with three more due out this year) and become an accomplished and sought-after commentator, nobody asks your GPA. They only want to know your ratings.

"So it was never an issue," he says. "But it was an issue for me. I never expected to leave without finishing officially."

What had happened was, in 1986, the year Smiley should have finished his classes, he took a semester off to work for Los Angeles Mayor Tom Bradley. The Kokomo, Ind., native planned to finish his internship with Bradley and return to Bloomington, but the mayor offered him a job as an aide.

He walked through the graduation ceremony in 1987 and thought he'd finish the final nine general-studies credits in California. Then life happened:

The radio show examines day-to-day issues and gives national exposure to black scholars, including Cornel West and Michael Eric Dyson. Smiley's mission: to show that "there is much more that unites us than divides us, and what matters to some Americans matters to most Americans — economic issues, political issues, social issues, cultural issues."

"When those planes ran into the World Trade Center," he says, "they weren't looking for black Americans or brown Americans or yellow Americans or white Americans. They were looking for Americans. We are all in this together. And I think public radio is at its best when we use it to introduce Americans to each other.

"There isn't another show like this on radio," says Jay Kernis, NPR's senior vice president for programming. "Tavis is bringing new ideas, new perspectives, and new voices to public radio in a smart and engaging way. And Tavis is great at what he does."

Even with that kind of acclaim and success, the unfinished degree nagged at Smiley. He'd kept in touch with SPEA faculty, including Associate Dean of Academic Affairs Kurt Zorn, who had been one of his undergraduate professors. Zorn arranged for Smiley's directed-studies work to complete his degree. Smiley's assignment: Write papers about three of his books and the impact those books have had.

"Clearly, he has done a number of things in his life's work that if we were in a position to provide internship credits, he could have gotten internship credits," Zorn says. "It made sense to allow him to use the basis of his work as the foundation for finishing up his coursework. There are times where you take all the rules and regulations, stick with them strictly, and make the student come back and take the courses. But in this case, you had to assess whether he really needed a communications course. Take a communications course? He could teach a communications course."

With the papers written and turned in, all that was left was to confer his diploma. Kenneth Gros Louis, now IU interim senior vice president and IUB chancellor, handled that duty in August during a three-hour lunch at the Bacara Resort and Spa near Santa Barbara, Calif., where Gros Louis has a home.

"I used the language used by the president," says Gros Louis, LHD'01. "I said, 'By the authority vested in me, through the president and the board of trustees, I'm pleased to confer upon you your degree.' And he got quite teary. He didn't cry, but it was a much more emotional moment than I thought it was going to be. It was a nice meeting and a long conversation, and I was very impressed with his intelligence — and always have been — but also the warmth of his personality."

Smiley had interned for Gros Louis, but this was the first time Gros Louis ever heard that Smiley came to IU with nothing, not even a room assignment. The oldest of 10 children — Smiley's dad is a career Air Force officer, his mom a homemaker — he had applied to school without his parents' knowledge. He paid a friend $10 to drive him from Kokomo to Bloomington. That left him with $40, a suitcase, and an admission letter.

After reading in the IDS that the residence halls were overflowing and students were sleeping in lounges, Smiley did likewise. Nobody questioned him.

Tavis Smiley HE LISTENS, TOO — Smiley's interviewees have included President Bill Clinton, Pope John Paul II, and Cuban leader Fidel Castro. Courtesy photo.

Eventually, he went to the admissions office and described his situation. They referred him to David Hummons in the bursar's office.

"I was passionate," says Smiley. "I told David my story, but I didn't get to him for a while. I went through a whole bunch of people, and there were a whole lot of people who passed me around. It wasn't that they were mean about it. I just wasn't in the system. All I had was this letter that said I'd been accepted. It was a dicey, difficult situation."

"After Dave berated him for doing something so outrageous," Gros Louis says, Hummons took Smiley to Jimmy Ross, EdD'76, who was then director of scholarships and financial aid. "Jimmy arranged for Tavis to receive a debate scholarship," says Gros Louis.

"It's amazing. Think of coming here by yourself with no means — you're just determined to get a college degree."

Smiley calls Hummons and Ross his heroes.

"They got me in and got me through," he says. "If it were not for those two guys, I would not have matriculated at and attended Indiana."

But once he was in, Smiley pursued his education with the passion that brought him to IU. He was the kind of kid who'd say, "I've never met the president, John Ryan. Could you arrange a lunch?" Gros Louis did, and Smiley dined with Ryan in the Tudor Room.

"Tavis took every advantage — in the good sense of the word — of what Bloomington had to offer," Gros Louis says.

And now, finally, he holds the degree he always wanted. The diploma can be found in his Southern California home. Some day, it will join the mementos in his office, hanging among the pictures of him with "kings, queens, presidents, potentates, and world leaders" and situated somewhere near the latest of his books: On Air Vol. 2, a collection of his commentaries heard on urban radio stations; Unfinished Agenda, essays on the 50th anniversary of Brown v. Board of Education; and What I Know For Sure, commentary on his social, political, and economic beliefs.

"But I feel so personally and so passionately about that degree," says Smiley, BS'03, who turns 40 in September, "that it hasn't even left my house yet. I look at it every day. I want to look at it enough to make sure it's real."

Marc D. Allan is a writer based in Indianapolis.

 

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