Jan Kemp was a professor of English and coordinator of the four quarter non-credit Developmental Studies program at the University of Georgia that prepared marginal students for success in the regular curriculum. Nine revenue-producing athletes failed to attain the mandatory grade of "C" in English during four quarters in 1981-1982. Those failures mandated their expulsion from UGA. Kemp was disappointed, of course, but not as disappointed as when she learned that those athletes had been "exited" from the program into the regular curriculum by her superiors. The Sugar Bowl was coming up, and the athletes were needed to ensure a UGA victory. When she refused to stay quiet, she lost her job. The ensuing "Jan Kemp Affair" led to President Fred Davison's forced resignation.
Take Down, written by plaintiff's attorney Hue Henry, covers the history of authoritative abuses at the University of Georgia from 1972-1986 under the administration of Davison. Amidst continuing scandals related to college athletic programs and vexed debates about fair treatment and the long-term interests of student athletes, Jan Kemp and her story are as relevant today as they were decades ago. This is the story of a hero who fought on behalf of academic integrity, the ethical rights of instructors entrusted with the education of their students, and what society expects and deserves from our institutions of higher learning.
Hue Henry's book is a surprisingly good read. I expected it to be very dry but it was almost always interesting. Getting all the details from an event that happened so long ago, must have been tough but making them into a readable story was even harder. He accomplished his purpose of telling the story of an event and the trial that changed the University of Georgia and college athletics.
Take Down by Hue Henry is a meticulously detailed, sequential telling of a story the State of Georgia and its flagship university would just as soon forget. It is a story of astonishing arrogance on the part of officials charged with serving the public but serving without shame their most immediate benefactors and their hierarchic superiors, who were exposed as their shadowy conspirators in systematic abuses that all the players, except the athletes, that is, knew were wrong. While I remember press accounts of the weeks long trial I had forgotten just how badly the cascade of embarrassing TV and newspaper stories made the university look in the public eye. Most astonishing to me was how blatant, and how banal, was the bigotry exhibited by not only the officials who testified, but also by the institution’s highly regarded out-of-town private lawyer. The university’s lawyer mirrored the ineptitude of virtually every state official involved in every step of the trial plaintiff’s quest for fairness.
Before Henry begins his tale of academic abuse he preps the reader with an account of an earlier suit he brought on behalf of a university staffer’s whistleblower-based wrongful termination. The book’s exposure of official corruption so deep that its practitioners don’t even understand how wrong they are is eerily mirrored by current political discourse. While Henry’s book is a heartening affirmation of the value and efficacy of the jury system as the lock, stock, and barrel of the people’s voice in government, it is also a reminder of the continued need for the advocacy that practitioners like Henry carry forth. The reading public owes Henry thanks for his effort to rescue this saga of hope from history’s dustbin and restore it to the eye-level shelf it deserves. I see it as a significant segment of the long arc of Georgia history’s journey toward justice.