Owls on Every Tie

An unconventional interview with President-Elect David Leebron, conducted by former Thresher editor-in-chief Rachel Rustin.*

Rustin: What is the most interesting or surprising thing you’ve found out about Rice so far?

Leebron: The requirement that I have owls on every tie that I wear.

Rustin: Thinking back to your own college experience, what was your favorite thing about being an undergraduate?

Leebron: I think my favorite thing was actually—and maybe this is too serious of an answer—was the engagement with my fellow students. What I really remember is being up half the night discussing issues of politics and policy with my classmates. And the diversity of my classmates.

Rustin: One of the questions on the roommate form that every Rice undergraduate has to answer is, “If you could have any three people over for dinner, historical or fictional, who would they be?”

Leebron: The first one is easy. The first one would be Abraham Lincoln. Easy in part because I was born on his birthday. I think the second one might be Einstein. The third would have to be Edgar Odell Lovett.

Rustin: Let’s say it’s a Saturday afternoon, and you have the afternoon with your two kids. What do you do, now that you’re in Houston?

Leebron: Well, we went to the zoo, and I can see going to the zoo a lot. One of the nicest things about moving down here and into this great house is that we’re actually going to have something called a yard.

Rustin: We’ve heard that you have a very quirky sense of humor. What’s your go-to joke?

Leebron: (laughing) If I had one, answering the question would kind of ruin it’s utility. I actually pretty rarely use pre-prepared jokes. I don’t remember them very well, quite frankly. Very little of the press conference, for example, was prepared in advance. I try to find something introspective in each situation. It’s nice to be humorous when the opportunity arises, but I think if you work too hard at it, you fail.

Rustin: If you were forced to pick another career, what would you do?

Leebron: Is ability a constraint?

Rustin: No constraints whatsoever.

Leebron: I think I’d probably like to be a popular musician. I say that safely knowing that I have no talent in that direction.

Rustin: What question should I have asked you, and what’s the answer?

Leebron: That sounds like my version of a sadistic exam. I used that question one year. It’s a dilemma of answering the question honestly, the first part, and then knowing that I’d have to go the second part. I’d probably want to know what someone would enjoy most about this type of job. It’s a very time-consuming job. Something like, “Why would this job be fun for you?” Because if it’s not fun, it’s actually a problem.

Rustin: Then, why would this job be fun for you?

Leebron: For two reasons. One, we really—and the we is very important in this case—we really just like meeting people. And two, it’s a personal challenge. You go into academia basically because you like learning; that’s the sense in which the faculty is engaged in a common enterprise with the students, though it may be at different stages. But that’s what you have in common. The good thing about academic administration—I hate that term, there must be a better one—is that it forces you to develop new talents and learn new things.

* Originally appeared in the Rice Thresher, January 16, 2004.