Those Lovable, Quirky Professors

–From name withheld by request, University of Arkansas School of Law, Date of event: circa 1976

I attended law school at the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville beginning in the fall of 1976 and graduating in the spring of 1979. Naturally, during my freshman year I took Torts and was privileged to be instructed by the legendary Dr. Robert A. Leflar, who at that time had come back to the University of Arkansas and was teaching for free.

Dr. Leflar was a gentleman of 78 years at this time and he taught well up into his 90s. In fact, the law school today is named for him. He was an outstanding instructor, but he was likewise the kind of instructor who instilled fear and trembling in students. One of Dr. Leflar’s requirements that was strictly adhered to was exact punctuality as far as class attendance was concerned. The class was to begin at the precise time prescribed, at which time the door to the classroom would be closed and it was not to be opened. He gave us that understanding at the very first of the year and it was adhered to.

Dr. Leflar was likewise the kind of instructor who had no fun and games as far as his repartee with students was concerned. On the occasion of one particular class session, there was one student who was just about to be late for class when he hurriedly came in the classroom. Noticing that the door was still opened, he promptly closed it behind him assuming Dr. Leflar to already be in the room. As it turned out, Dr. Leflar was out in the hall just beside the door talking with another faculty member. As Dr. Leflar turned to come in the classroom, he proceeded on remembering the door to have been open the last time he saw it, as he had just come out the door to talk to the other faculty member.

Without looking up at the door, Dr. Leflar walked square into it breaking his rather thick glasses and cutting his face. For the entirety of the class, Dr. Leflar never mentioned the incident, acted as if it had never occurred, and taught the class without any interruption whatsoever. He did this despite the fact that his face was continuously bleeding, with blood all over same, and his eyeglasses were terribly fractured. How the man read his notes was absolutely amazing. I could only conclude that he knew them by heart.

No one dared to utter even a snicker while Dr. Leflar was in the room. However, the instant class was over and Dr. Leflar departed the room, the class broke up in entirety in laughter. No one was laughing at the fact that Dr. Leflar had been injured. They merely laughed at the point that his absolute closed door rule had actually caused him problems as opposed to someone else. I guess this stands for the proposition that rules apply to everyone. One might also say that “no one is above the door.”

–From Kathi Simpson, University of Pittsburgh School of Law, Date of event: circa 1976

I graduated from the University of Pittsburgh School of Law in 1978. We had a professor who was very cerebral, to the extent that he neglected many things that most people find routine—wearing matching socks, properly buttoning his shirt, and repairing the glasses that perpetually bore a safety pin or piece of tape on the earpiece. There are many stories about this distinguished professor but there are two that occurred in classes I attended.

The first was a Criminal Law class—the last class before the Thanksgiving break our first year. Our classroom was strangely configured in Pitt’s Cathedral of Learning (the new Law School building was only weeks away from completion).

The “room” had been, in an earlier era, a suite of offices for the dean of women (when that position existed) and entry was through some very fancy french doors flanked by glass panels. The entry was not visible from the front of the room where the professor stood. It was visible, however, from most seats in the room.

The professor brought his two young sons to class and sat them down with crayons, paper and other diversions to last the lecture (many of the students were insanely jealous). As soon as the professor assumed his position, the crayons were abandoned and the real work of the boys began. From somewhere, they produced a ball of string and some scissors (that was a scary thought). They set to work to “spiderweb” the doorway, a task they completed to the amusement of the students. Their father, however, was totally unaware of their activities even as the class collectively turned to watch the construction, paying not one bit of attention to the lecture. When he did discover the handiwork, he fumed at the culprits to remove the offending web and we all were eventually able to depart and begin the holiday.

In our second year, the same professor taught Constitutional Law. It was the much awaited lecture on obscenity and pornography that packed class that one day (being second year students, we knew that class attendance was generally harmful to your academic success). However, the chance to observe the discourse between our very liberal professor and some conservative members of our class (“but they’re ONLY amendments”) proved a big drawing card.

Our professor was given to physical gestures to emphasize his point and, as he stepped from behind the podium, he waved his arms to illustrate some sage point (now long forgotten). It became immediately obvious to those in the front rows (where people had to sit—it was that crowded) that the professor had forgotten to “zip up” that morning. The laughter rippled through the room and the professor retreated to the safety of his podium to make the necessary adjustments.

McClurg note. Coming to class unzipped is a professor’s worse fear. Most profs check their zipper at least 10 times before every class. When I first arrived at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock a long time ago, the legendary Professor Robert R. Wright pulled me aside to share an important tip: “If you’re ever teaching a class and discover your zipper’s open, just say ‘The rule in Arkansas is …’ Everyone will immediately look down to start writing feverishly and you’ll have complete privacy to correct the problem.”