CHAPTER NINE
"Department Party"
The CU Anthropology Department had benefitted munificently in the past year. In addition to Jepson Hayes choosing them as the custodians of the Azuma Collection, an alumnus named Daniel Potts had bequeathed them two million dollars. The End of Semester party was a tradition among most departments at CU and each celebrated in its own way.
The Athletic Department held theirs in a beer hall with brats and deep-fried cheese. The English Dept. celebrated at an Italian restaurant. Anthropology always held theirs in the tony University Club, hub of the University Golf Course. Joel Liggett was a longtime member and avid golfer.
The Beadles turned their car over to the chauffeur under the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed porte cochere and entered the club through double oak doors. The tinkle of ice and of laughter drifted out of the Lake Tipton room, down the hall on the left. Inside, three dozen people had gathered in clusters, some at the square tables or in the booths overlooking the lake, some at the curving bar. White liveried waiters circulating among them distributing canapes.
There was a minute rustling as the Beadles entered, like sunflowers turning to the sun. They looked so glamorous, more like celebrities than faculty. Beadles sensed admiration, fear, envy and loathing. The rotten fruit of academic infighting. Donations from the Alumni Foundation were down across the board due to the economy and disagreement with school policies. The Creighton Catamounts' football team had pieced together three losing seasons. The B-ball team was mediocre. New speech guidelines enraged some alumni who held to the quaint proposition that universities should be laboratories of free speech and open inquiry.
Anthropology was the exception due to the Azuma Collection and the Potts Endowment. Beadles and Betty gladhanded their way through the crowd accepting backslaps, hugs and accolades.
An already boozy Wilmar Childs, specialist in Early Mesopotamian Society, weaved through the crowd with a silly grin. Wilmar looked like a parking meter, skinny as a rail with a big bald dome.
"Beadles, old boy! Congratulations on landing the Azuma Collection! I don't suppose there's any chance getting a peek this week?"
Beadles shook Childs' clammy hand. "You know the rules, Wilmar. No one is supposed to go in there except the curators until we know what we've got. However I intend to spend the next month going through the collection. I'd like to open it up as quickly as possible."
"Do you think," Childs said weaving slightly, "that your status as an American Indian had anything to do with Mr. Hayes' decision?"
A warning bell went off in Beadles' skull. Childs was one of Liggett's cronies. Beadles had marked that he was part Native American on his application.
"I doubt it, Wilmar. Mr. Hayes made it clear he was honoring Creighton because his granddaughter, Meredith Hayes, played varsity basketball here."
"Well good for you. I've always thought the department was too damned white!"
Beadles knew Childs wasn't kidding. Childs carried White Guilt around like a shroud. He'd urged the department to add a Professor of Hip-Hop.
Betty to the rescue. "Hello, Wilmar!" She kissed him on the cheek and took his arm. Childs was undone. He would have swooned if Betty hadn't held him up.
"Vaughan, I hate to break this up but there's someone I want you to meet."
Beadles excused himself and let Betty lead him to the bar.
"Cavalry to the rescue," he murmured.
"Oh Wilmar's harmless." She led Beadles to a tall old man with a silvery widow's peak in a somber banker's three piece.
"Vaughan, this is Daniel Potts, class of '64."
Beadles and Potts shook hands. "That was a very generous endowment, Mr. Potts."
"Call me Dan. They tell me you're in charge of this new Anasazi collection."
"The Azuman Collection, yes."
"And you think it may be evidence of a previously unknown tribe?"
Beadles nodded, wondering how Potts had known. His theory was of little interest outside rarefied academic circles.
"My son Ronnie thought the same thing. He lost his life trying to prove it."
"I'm so sorry," Beadles said. "What happened?"
The old man was clear-eyed and sober. "He would have been fifty had he survived. Ronnie and his best friend Curt went out into the Arizona desert in 1985 searching for proof the Azuma existed. They were never heard from again. We searched for days by land and air. To this day, we haven't a clue as to what happened. I have offered a fifty thousand dollar reward to anyone who can tell me what happened to those two boys."
"Does this have anything to do with the endowment?" Beadles said.
"In a way. But of course this is my alma mater and I've always been proud to be a Catamount. I was track and wrestling. I've been blessed to have a successful career, a son and daughter who survive and eight healthy grandchildren. I'm afraid one of them is going to turn me into a great-grandfather shortly."
"Congratulations."
The old man shrugged. "I'd be happier if she were married but at my age I'll take what I can get. I read your paper in the summer, '11 Journal of Anthropology. I always believed Ronnie was right. I would welcome proof of the Azuma."
Beadles had been planning a fall expedition if he could get the funding. "Funny you should mention that, Dan."
Twenty minutes later a spoon tapping crystal drew everybody's attention. Liggett stood at the entrance to the dining room chiming away. He was a round little man, bald on top with a fringe of hair, a bulbous nose and close-set eyes.
"Folks if we can start moving into the dining room?"
Liggett stood at the entrance greeting everyone as they passed through. He shook Beadles' hand warmly.
"Here's our star professor! Can't wait to see what you come up with, Vaughan. Betty, beautiful as always."
"Thank you, Joel," Betty replied.
`They filed in and took a seat at a round table in the back with a couple of department newcomers, Adjunct Professor Clayton Gray and his wife Doris. Gray was a pale and nervous young man with round glasses. Doris was a thick young woman in an oversized shirt.
Gray turned to Beadles with a worried expression. "Did you hear? They're thinking of reducing our hours to comply with the new health care law. We will no longer be eligible for university health insurance."
"I've heard," Beadles said. "It's bad news for everyone. They've put a freeze on hiring."
"We hear they're going to start laying off faculty," Gray said.
Doris put her hand on his arm. "Clayton, can we talk about something else?"
A waiter appeared and plopped down salads. A young teaching assistant and his boyfriend joined them, both with long hair and bangs. All expressed delight at the Azuma acquisition and confidence that Beadles would produce a world-class collection.
Shortly after dessert Liggett struck his crystal wine glass with his silver spoon. It was time for the department speech.
***