Penn State’s Spanier Enjoyed Success and Secrecy
Paul McLaughlin said he experienced a prime example of that habit of closing ranks. A decade ago, he says, he told Penn State officials, including Spanier, a horrific story: years before, when he was a boy, a professor had sexually molested him repeatedly, sometimes on the Penn State campus. He even said he had a tape recording in which the professor, who still taught at the university, admitted to the abuse.
But McLaughlin said he was rebuffed.
“He told me whatever I wanted to get from the school, I wasn’t going to get it, and this was a guy with an impeccable reputation, and unless he was convicted of a crime, they weren’t interested,” McLaughlin, now 45 and a private investigator in Phoenix, recalled of his short phone conversation with Spanier. “When I offered to send him the tape, he said, ‘Don’t bother.’ That was his exact words.”
Two former department chairmen said one of the expectations of their jobs is that they tailgate before football games, mingling for hours.
“The football games, that’s where the money is,” one said. “Several times a year, thousands of alumni come back, and it’s a chance to stroke them and show off to them, and I was told I should be a part of that.”
Strict Secrecy
When Spanier returned to State College in 1995, Penn State had a star coach in women’s basketball, Rene Portland, who had a reputation for not allowing lesbians on her team, which she denied. The university had a policy barring discrimination based on sexual orientation, but Portland, many believed, continued to operate by her own rules.
A former player sued, accusing Portland of harassing her and dropping her from the team because of her perceived sexual orientation. Several former players came forward to say they had seen or experienced similar treatment, prompting questions about whether the administration knew of Portland’s actions and tolerated them.
The university investigated and found in 2006 that Portland had created a “hostile, intimidating and offensive environment.” She was fined and forced to undergo diversity training, but she kept her job. Portland resigned a year later, shortly after Penn State settled the lawsuit on undisclosed terms.
That and other court settlements have been kept secret because Pennsylvania’s public colleges are exempt from state law on open government records. As president, Spanier went to some lengths to maintain such secrecy.
When The Patriot-News of Harrisburg obtained the salaries of Penn State’s highest-paid officials, including Paterno, from the state retirement system, Spanier spent five years trying to block the release. The university lost before the pension board, the Commonwealth Court and, in 2007, the State Supreme Court.
Craig J. Staudenmaier, the lawyer who represented The Patriot-News, said he was amazed by how hard the university fought.
“It just made no sense,” he said. “Penn State guards their information very closely and jealously.”
While that case was under way, state lawmakers were drafting a tougher right-to-know law. Spanier lobbied personally — and successfully — against a proposal to end the colleges’ exemption.
As well, students whose political activism threatened to embarrass the university have sometimes met harsh responses.
In 2000, Penn State hosted the National Governors Association meeting, a showcase moment for the university. Five student members of a political group were arrested by the campus police for refusing to take down a banner hung from Osmond Laboratory to promote what they called “a socially responsible alternative to the Governor’s Convention.”
“I was furious,” said William A. Pencak, a history professor. “This was the place students are always allowed to place banners, if it’s banners to honor the alumni, or support United Way, or rally for football. But when it was important political discussion, they weren’t allowed to do it.”
A group that pressures colleges not to sell apparel made with sweatshop labor had similar experiences. Members of the Penn State chapter said they tried for years to get a meeting with Spanier, with no luck. Instead, they were fined for writing anti-sweatshop messages on sidewalks and walls, though students and professors say that apolitical chalk writing was commonly tolerated.
In 2008, the group staged a sit-in at the administration building, Old Main, leading to the arrest of 31 students for misdemeanor trespassing.
“We finally got a meeting with Spanier,” said Chris Stevens, one of those arrested. “The year after the sit-in.”