My Lunch With Lee

Lee Bollinger played hard to get. After I worked as an usher and binged on Krispy Kreme doughnuts at his inauguration, things did not play out as I expected. I invited him to dinner and got no reply.

We had so much in common. We both chose Columbia over Michigan. We both like jogging. He worked at his dad's newspaper growing up, clerked at the Supreme Court after law school, and went on to climb the ranks of university administration, and I once got confused for Fred Savage. What I expected to be a zany, mutual Zack Morris-Mr. Belding rapport ("I'll help every team at the school beat Valley--now let's talk about my parking spot") quickly deteriorated into the unrequited affection of Screech for Lisa. I was undeterred.

After 14 months and as many e-mails, we had a date--for lunch. His assistant, who called him PrezBo and said not to say anything, told me dinner didn't look possible. Ever notice that you never see Bollinger and Batman in the same place at the same time? Think about it for a minute.

I chose Miss Mamie's Spoonbread Too, for a little taste of Harlem, since Columbia has turned its gaze north recently. He jogs by it regularly on his way to Central Park--where the reservoir is his favorite spot--but had never been.

The ten minutes I was there before he arrived seemed like two hours. Then, there he was, Columbia's 19th president, a man whose inaguration was recognized as a holiday in New York City--the new face of the university, and a handsome one at that.
Lee, as he insisted I call him, pulled up to Miss Mamie's in the back seat of a silver Lincoln. I'm sure he could have sat in the front seat if he'd asked. A big guy got out and opened the door for him. I could see my breath. Did it smell all right? Nothing I could do now. The first chapter of my thesis, due in two hours, was shouting to me from my backpack like the telltale heart. My stomach, empty on the day, grumbled. How could I make a lasting impression on such an accomplished, prominent Columbian?
I'd eat everything on the menu.

I got pretty damn close, I did. We both started with the seafood gumbo and agreed that it was excellent. Then I left him in the dust. I decided not to make a decision and went with the sampler platter. One by one, I went through ribs, fried chicken, cat fish, yams, cornbread, and collared greens, with lemonade to cleanse my palate between courses. When he declined a bite of my disappearing sweet potato pie, I could see in his eyes the combination of dismay and admiration usually reserved for blind hunters.

The Supreme Court of Soul Food expeditiously and justly tried two cases on the other side of the table. The first, Fried Shrimp v. Bollinger, proved a decisive victory for the defendant, who devoured all but the tails of the plaintiff. Yams v. Bollinger was not as cut and dry. The split decision, in favor of the side dish, sets the precedent that diversity of lunch does not justify ignoring one's yams. In his defense, Bollinger insisted he ate half. I was just glad Miss Mamie didn't see those sweet, sweet potatoes go to waste.
I could tell from his enthusiasm for the restaurant that this guy's been taken to Le Monde one too many times. He asked if they cater; maybe Kofie Anon might short ribs waiting for him on his next visit.

He asked me what students thought about Columbia. I told him that we were disappointed with the cake. My colleagues in Fort Awesome (aka Wien) have not enjoyed listening to the renovation of his house. And there are times the higher-ups can seem indifferent to their students. On the whole though, I told him, people enjoy it here.

"Do they know that the sports are important to me?" he asked. He might want better teams but made no promises about taking Columbia back to the Rose Bowl, an honor he knew he was leaving in Ann Arbor.

I had to ask about expansion, partly so I could make a dent in my food. I mean, who's asking the questions here, anyway?
According to the future mayor of Manhattanville, Columbia's alternatives are to not expand and cease being a top-tier school or open up a satellite campus somewhere outside the city. And the bait shop--will that be displaced? Will Columbia master bait and provide other essential services in place of West Harlem's small businesses? The questions, considering the decades-long process of expansion, are premature.

Lee Bollinger is still learning about Columbia. The school is the fourth largest private employer in the city, and his employees are hard to keep track of. He loves the city and the school and has big plans for both. I just hope Columbia can keep up--he's pretty aerodynamic in those running tights.

I'd love to stick around and see everything that's in store, but I am only three laps, in the stroke of my choosing, away from leaving fair Columbia with a very expensive sheet of paper with Latin writing. We'll see if it comes with the Clean Plate Award.