In Memoriam

Dr. Andrew A. Sorensen, University of South Carolina president from 2002 until 2008, died April 17 at his home in Ohio. He made lasting impressions on all he met, including an undergraduate student reporter. Taylor Smith remembers fondly the relationship he developed as a student with Dr. Sorensen. He earned his degree in print journalism in 2008, and is a student in the USC School of Law.

As a print journalism undergraduate student, I was reporting administration news for the Daily Gamecock. I convinced my editor to let me write a series based on interviews with the deans of every college in the university. “Dean Talk” would start with deans, continue with vice presidents and conclude with President Andrew Sorensen.

During the interviews, I quickly realized each college participated in the university as a sort of nation-state. Concerns over independence, sovereignty and even legitimacy were more akin to the United Nations than an institution of higher education.

Each dean’s advocacy of the interests within his or her college was impressive, but the petty turf battles were disheartening. How could a major university thrive when so few of its deans could agree on a path forward?

This question was burning in my head the day I interviewed Dr. Sorensen. I was nervous. I had seen him at university press conferences, but never had spoken with him directly.

As I twitched in the chair, I looked over the questions I prepared earlier and circled one theme: “Discord among college deans. Lack of unity, need for leadership?”

My nervous twitching had morphed into arrogance as I now planned to spend my scheduled hour hammering him on what I learned from the deans.

The assistant opened Dr. Sorensen’s office door and I walked the considerable distance to his desk, where he stood. By the time I said hello and shook his hand, my arrogance had vanished. I was so caught off guard by his warmth, he managed to get the first question in: “Where are you from?”

Forty minutes later, after talking about the Lowcountry (where I am from), the University of Alabama (where he was president before and where my parents went to college) and literature (those 10 minutes came close to eclipsing what I learned all semester in my English course), I asked about the future of the research campus, but never found the courage to ask the question circled in my reporter’s notebook.

His omniscience was evident when moments before our hour was up, he said he sensed there was something else I wanted to ask but hadn’t. He suggested we meet again the next day. I was floored. Why would the university president voluntarily give up an hour just to be sure a snot-nosed student journalist could ask him a question?

I did ask the question the next day, and many more like it over my next three years at the university. Every time I saw Dr. Sorensen on campus or in Columbia, he asked how my family and I were.

When he announced his retirement in Spring 2008, I was a senior in the Carolina Reporter. I created a multimedia project on his legacy at USC, working with him up to three hours at a time to get what I needed. Those conversations just weeks before I graduated might be the fondest memories of my undergraduate years.

Dr. Sorensen gave the commencement address at my graduation. As I waited in line to shake the hand of the outgoing president, I thought how fortunate I was to have spent time with him. As I inched closer, I wondered what I could say to a man who had shown me so much.

I never got to say anything. I reached to shake his hand, but he hugged me in front of the thousands packed in the Colonial Life Arena.

He whispered words I will never forget: “I’m so proud of you.”