Should University of Michigan distance itself from Bo Schembechler? Is it even possible?
The University of Michigan’s relationship with its late legendary football coach Bo Schembechler has become so strained, it raises a troubling question:
Can it be saved?
At one time, such a question would have been unthinkable in Ann Arbor, but no more. As more details emerge on what Schembechler knew of the behavior of team doctor Robert Anderson, the more fractured the university community becomes.
Anderson, who died in 2008, is accused of sexually assaulting hundreds of student-athletes and others under the guise of medical care at the university, where he served as the football program’s team doctor.
Several former players and others have come forward in recent weeks to describe what amounts to a double dose of betrayal: The abuse they suffered from Anderson and the indifference they encountered from Schembechler and other university officials when they reported it.
They insist Schembechler knew because they remember telling him, in some cases, repeatedly.
Schembechler's defenders say that can’t be right. The Bo they knew was a strict disciplinarian who loved his players and would never tolerate abuse of them. They don’t defend Anderson, but they insist indifference in the face of criminal assaults was incompatible with the iconic coach's character.
In a letter the Detroit Free Press obtained Friday, more than 100 former players, coaches and staff members under Schembechler said: "Our experiences tell us that the Bo Schembechler we knew would never have tolerated any abuse or mistreatment of his players, his staff, or any other individual. We believe firmly, that if he were aware of such behavior, Coach Schembechler would have acted immediately to put a stop to it and would have made sure anyone responsible for it would have been removed from the University of Michigan football program."
The image of Schembechler is as much a part of the school as its famous block M. The school’s football building bears his name and a bronze statue of the former coach stands outside.
Schembechler quotes like “The team, the team, the team” and “Those who stay will be champions” are visible on campus, in some cases etched in stone.
Now the university faces a reconsideration of Schembechler’s legacy, an exercise that seems more likely to divide rather than unite.
Generational divide
Alumni and others old enough to remember Schembechler on the sidelines have firm opinions of him and his place at the school.
But even graduate students enrolled at the university today weren’t alive when Schembechler coached his last game on New Year's Day 1990.
When Schembechler died in 2006, most current students were between 3 and 7 years old.
Calder Lewis, editor-in-chief of The Michigan Daily, the school’s student newspaper, said the debate over Schembechler’s place at the university has gone over the heads of a lot of current students.
“Schembechler is a name that you always hear as a student at U-M, but he's kind of just like this mythic figure off in the distance,” Lewis said. “We have buildings and statues for him but unless your parents went here, your grandparents went here, you grew up around here, a lot of students don't really feel that connection to Bo and that Bo brand that so many older alumni might have.”
One thing current students are aware of, Lewis said, is a pattern of sexual misconduct on campus. Last year, they saw the university agree to pay $9.25 million to settle claims by eight women who say they were sexually harassed former Provost Martin Philbert.
Also last year, they saw the Board of Regents vote to fire tenured music professor David Daniels, who was indicted for sexual assault in Texas and sued by a former U-M student, who claimed he was drugged and raped by Daniels.
“This is nothing totally new to us,” Calder said. “Unfortunately, this was just like, seems like it's part of the culture here.”
If the debate comes down to Schembechler’s legacy versus the victims of sexual assault, today’s students are likely to sympathize with the latter, Lewis said.
“I'm sure most students wouldn't really bat an eye at a building name getting changed or statue getting taken down, especially once they find out about these things,” Lewis said. “I mean, it's kind of obvious to anybody our age that if you cover it up — sexual assault — you shouldn't be honored with the only statue in Ann Arbor.”
Next steps
So where does Michigan go from here?
Any discussion on what the university should do about Schembechler’s legacy must include the people who were harmed by Anderson, said Morgan McCaul, a recent Michigan graduate who was assaulted as a young dancer by Larry Nassar at Michigan State.
“When survivors speak up, it is imperative that the institution that allowed them to be harmed listen,” said McCaul, who serves as an advocate for survivors of sexual abuse. “It is the bare minimum that the University of Michigan can afford to Anderson's victims, and their input should be centered in any and all institutional decisions on this matter moving forward.”
On Wednesday a group of about 50 former athletes and others who said they were victimized by Anderson, called on university regents to cooperate with an investigation by Michigan Attorney General Dana Nessel.
They also called for the school, the Big Ten and the NCAA to establish a nonprofit to “eradicate the enabling and institutional complicity which results in the culture of abuses arrayed against students and athletes at the University of Michigan.”
Tad Deluca, a former U-M wrestler, said the university’s apologies thus far ring hollow because they don’t acknowledge the inaction of people who failed to stop Anderson.
“Michigan has apologized for Anderson only,” Deluca said. “No one has apologized for what the university did. No one apologized for Bo. No one apologized for (former athletic director) Don Canham. There was no apology for (former associate vice president of student life) Thomas Easthope for failing to do his job on several different occasions. I have not heard apologies for every coach, athletic director, human services vice president or university president from 1968 to 2003.”
Deluca spoke at a news conference at the corner of Pauline Boulevard and Main Street, just northwest of Michigan Stadium.
The speakers didn’t take a position on what to do about the Schembechler name on the school’s football building and a bronze statue of the former coach out front.
The news conference came a day after more than 100 supporters of Schembechler signed an online petition defending the former coach, saying he wouldn’t have allowed such abuse to continue.
Other subtle signs of support for Schembechler are visible as well.
Forest Hill Cemetery lies a little over a mile northeast of Michigan Stadium. Schembechler is buried in a grave there at the foot of a hill shaded by a towering hickory tree. From the looks of it, the site still draws admirers.
Fresh daisies circle his gravestone. A maize and blue rosary dangles from one corner. On top, someone left a souvenir Wolverine helmet the size of a golf ball plus other team memorabilia.
Many of the nearby gravestones have Michigan’s block M carved into them. McCaul said the university should do more to honor the students and others who survived the abuse of Anderson and the neglect of others who could have stopped it.
“I believe they deserve veneration, equivalent to and exceeding that afforded by the University of Michigan to Bo Schembechler, and to be thanked for the service of their bravery, resilience, and leadership,” she said.
Contact John Wisely: 313-222-6825 or jwisely@freepress.com. On Twitter @jwisely