The year was 1989. The place: The Brewster Inn in Cazenovia, N.Y. And Larry Mason remembers the day like it was yesterday.

It was when Mason and about eight other professors dined with David Rubin, a New York University faculty member since 1971.

It was during this interview for the deanship of the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications that Rubin made it clear he had no intention of building Newhouse III.

‘If you’re looking for a dean to come in and build Newhouse III, don’t hire me,’ Mason, a visual and interactive communications professor, recalled Rubin saying in 1989. ‘It’s not on my radar.’

Nothing could have prepared Mason for Rubin’s true feelings about a third building at the time of Rubin’s interview, because for one, the Newhouse faculty sought a leader who wanted Newhouse III.

The communications school was originally designed as a three-building complex. But in 1989, just a pair of buildings bordered the Newhouse plaza.

‘He was very forthright,’ Mason, a Syracuse professor for 26 years, said of Rubin. ‘He wasn’t hiding anything.’

Of course, 18 years later, glances at the Newhouse plaza yield three buildings, not two. The newest of which will be officially dedicated Wednesday by Chief Justice John Roberts.

The Rubin of 1989, however, is by no means a standing contradiction of Rubin in 2007.

For Rubin, a man defined by his work, it was all in the timing. Instead of building Newhouse III for the sake of pleasing his associates in the early ’90s, Rubin waited until a third building was completely necessary.

‘He focused on quality, making Newhouse the best it could be through growth in Newhouse faculty, staff and students,’ Mason said. ‘Now, we absolutely needed Newhouse III. Logic told him we needed it. And I think he did it the right way: He built the school when we really needed it.’

Susan Nash, director of administration at Newhouse, said she remembers what the school was like before Rubin was hired.

The self-proclaimed chief of staff in charge of performance reviews, hiring, firing and other duties said her initial years at the school, from 1987 until Rubin’s 1990 arrival, were ‘years of turmoil.’

‘There was a class divide between faculty and staff. Staff were the invisible ones,’ Nash said. ‘There were no staff meetings. We didn’t make any decisions.’

But Newhouse’s struggles extended beyond mere separation between faculty and staff.

Lynn Vanderhoek, assistant dean of advancement at Newhouse, noted a number of problems in need of repair, including outdated facilities and a curriculum that ‘couldn’t decide what it wanted to be.’

‘The faculty was not a group that would choose to get together for picnics,’ Vanderhoek said. ‘Newhouse had a good reputation, but I’m not sure why.’

At the time, no one even talked to the school, Vanderhoek said. There was no outreach, especially to its alumni. All of those relationships had to be built, from the ground up, she said.

Rubin, who holds a bachelor’s from Columbia College in New York City and a master’s and a doctorate from Stanford University, had to not only prove himself as dean, Nash said, but also be dean of a school that had a lot of problems.

‘There were a lot of things that we just didn’t have and should have,’ Rubin said. ‘We didn’t have good relations with alumni, we didn’t have good fundraising operations, we didn’t have a good career center and the curriculum at the time was out of date. It just wasn’t working.

‘So the school was kind of getting by on its reputation, its name, but it didn’t have the strong infrastructure it needed,’ Rubin said. ‘I would say in 1990, Newhouse was a school with enormous potential, but it wasn’t realizing it.’

Besides alleviating faculty and staff tensions by increasing communication within the school, Rubin improved their relationship by doing one of the things his peers say he knows how to do well: opening his home and throwing a good party.

Vanderhoek said Rubin and his wife, Tina Press, an adjunct professor at Newhouse, are ‘fabulous hosts.’

‘Both are like reporters. They’re very interested in people,’ Vanderhoek said. ‘The dean reads multiple news sources each day, so there’s a variety of people he can engage.’

Press’s reply is modest.

‘It’s easy,’ Press said. ‘They are a good bunch of people – always have been.’

And as the size of Newhouse’s faculty and staff has increased during Rubin’s tenure, so has the size of the party, which typically occurs at the beginning of each academic year.

‘I remember that first picnic, back in 1990 or 1991. It was quite a cozy little affair,’ said Bob Thompson, director of the Bleier Center for Television and Popular Culture at Newhouse. ‘Now, his backyard turns into a temporary village.’

But connecting with faculty and staff at Rubin’s annual parties doesn’t end at his doorstep.

Professor Mason said Rubin oversees every step of the hiring process of Newhouse faculty members. A committee will make recommendations to Rubin, and if he believes the committee has done its work, he will do everything he can to bring the candidate to campus.

Rubin also takes end-of-the-semester student evaluations very seriously, especially for the school’s newest faculty.

‘Every semester, he looks over every student evaluation from every course for every junior teacher,’ Mason said. ‘It shows how much he cares. It’s impressive.’

Though there is no typical day for Cleveland native Rubin, for better or worse every day begins the same: with e-mails.

The first thing he does is check for messages delivered to his inbox, both overnight and in the morning. On Mondays, that could be as many as 60 or 70.

From there, Rubin can be up to just about anything. He rattled off a laundry list of duties, including dealing with budget, personnel and curriculum issues, preparing or teaching class, working with alumni and even some fundraising.

‘All those things will come up,’ Rubin said. ‘No two days are the same.’

And being Newhouse dean doesn’t confine him to Syracuse University, either. About eight to 10 times a year, Rubin will be out of town, mostly in New York City, dealing with issues pertaining to Newhouse and the university.

Of course, traveling has its perks. But it also carries a slight and particular irritation.

‘When I come back, I’ve got even more e-mails and stuff to deal with,’ Rubin said dryly. ‘When I’m here, there is no such thing as free time. I don’t even go out and stroll around the quad.’

A common criticism of Rubin’s management style, one of which he admits he is aware, is his lack of praise for the achievements of his associates.

Assistant dean for advancement Vanderhoek said her and the dean’s personalities ‘are the exact opposite.’

‘I’m gregarious, over the top, gushy, sentimental,’ Vanderhoek said. ‘He is none of those things.’

Director of administration Nash echoed Vanderhoek’s sentiments.

‘He can be intimidating, and is, to a vast array of people,’ Nash said. ‘He’s very direct, very sure almost always about what he thinks. He’s persuasive, and it’s hard to challenge him.’

But it’s not just Vanderhoek and Nash who criticize Rubin’s character flaw.

Though Rubin typically scores extraordinarily high on faculty reviews – Vanderhoek said his latest approval rating was about 99 percent – Newhouse faculty often peg him for his lack of affection.

‘You wish he was warmer and fuzzier, but then you hope he isn’t,’ Vanderhoek said. ‘His approval you’re never able to completely understand. But when you get it, it really means something.’

In response, Rubin adopted a new policy about 10 years ago, courtesy of Vanderhoek: stickers.

Whenever the dean received a memo from Chancellor Nancy Cantor praising a faculty member or a note stating that a professor had gotten a story published, Rubin would put his seal of approval on the document with a sticker reading ‘super,’ ‘A+’ and the like.

It was the dean being warm.

‘People loved to get the stickers,’ Nash said. ‘Several can still pull papers out of their files with a ‘super’ sticker on it.’

Rubin said he hasn’t use the roll of stickers that much lately because most notifications he receives today are not on physical paper, but rather e-mail attachments.

‘It was a way to show I was pleased. I thought it wasn’t a bad idea,’ Rubin said. ‘It was all [Vanderhoek’s] fault.’

There is a time, though, when Rubin is liberal with his praise. And in this instance, he doesn’t need to be told to do so.

‘He’s a real softy with the dogs,’ Rubin’s wife, Press, said. ‘He loves them.’

His dogs, or ‘boys’ as Nash calls them, are two highly talented shelties, Bobby and Ace. The boys, a breed from the Scottish Isles, are named after Robert the Bruce, first king of Scotland, and his sidekick, William Wallace.

Both Bobby and Ace often compete in agility competitions – all Press’s doing – and they do quite well. The shelties have accumulated more than 100 awards and ribbons in their respective careers, all which proudly hang in Rubin’s basement.

‘When they’re home, they just have a lot of fun,’ said Rubin, who had shelties growing up. ‘One of them chases Frisbees well with me. He’s a great catcher. Both are great athletes.’

Press said one of the reasons she and Rubin even live in their Fayetteville home is its expansive backyard and the space it gives their dogs.

‘Living here has worked out very well. As soon as we saw it, we knew,’ Press said. ‘Dave, as soon as he saw the backyard, he knew he wanted to live here.’

If one of his passions is for his four-legged boys, then surely the other is his love of classical music.

Step into his office on any given day and classical music will be emanating from his speakers. And the same can be said in his home.

‘He has extensive knowledge of music – all his records and CDs – he knows what’s on the shelf and where to find it,’ Press said. ‘I can ask him about a concert we went to, and he’ll be able to tell me who played and how it was played.’

Their first date, in fact, was a chamber music concert.

And since then, after 36 years of marriage, they’ve attended hundreds of concerts. Rubin keeps all the concert programs in a collection that has grown to a half dozen albums.

‘We have music in the family. I had an aunt who was a concert pianist. I had another aunt who was a violinist,’ Rubin said. ‘I took piano lessons from a very early age, and then again when I turned about 33 or 34. One of the things I’ll do when I go on sabbatical is go back to the piano again.’

But don’t dare ask Rubin to play the piano. Inviting him to tickle the ivories will get a simple, but resounding ‘no’ in return.

‘I became dean and I haven’t practiced,’ said Rubin, looking at his home’s 5-foot 3-inch baby grand piano. ‘If you don’t practice, you won’t be very good.’

What impresses people the most about Rubin is his depth of knowledge in practically everything.

‘He really is an intellectual’s intellectual. He’s smart, well read, thinks fast. He behaves the way smart people ought to behave,’ said Thompson, director of the Bleier Center. ‘But what never ceases to amaze me is the breadth of what he knows about, like fine wine and great music. The kinds of things you expect intellects to know things about. But then I bring up McDonald’s, and he can tell me the date it was founded.’

Vanderhoek called him ‘mythic.’

‘You don’t meet David Rubins all the time,’ she said. ‘He and his wife are fine people. The world is more interesting to have them in it.’

Professor Mason, though, said he is most impressed with Rubin’s ability to guide the school and make the right decisions. Mason cited Rubin’s desire to lead a full-blown curriculum review during his last two years as Newhouse dean.

Mason said other deans would certainly push off such an undertaking to the next dean; but not Rubin. Rubin had to do it himself before the next dean takes his office.

‘He’s not a man that rests on his laurels. He’s always pushing forward,’ Mason said. ‘He never rests on where we are. He always tries to make us better.’

And the same goes for other schools and colleges at SU, such as The College of Arts and Sciences across the street from Newhouse.

Cathy Newton, Arts and Sciences dean, said it’s a ‘rare day’ when either she or Rubin -or her team or Rubin’s team – are not in contact with one another. Both schools, collaboratively, are constantly embarking on new programs.

Just a few weeks ago, Newhouse and Arts and Sciences launched the First Amendment Scholars Program, designed to promote exploration of the importance and complexity of Freedom of Speech.

‘We are really sister colleges. Duals are actually living and breathing in both colleges,’ Newton said. Because of Rubin, ‘Newhouse is now more tightly integrated with the university. It’s not some isolated building, but interwoven with the other schools and colleges. I hope that is a lasting contribution.’

In April, Rubin announced he would step down as Newhouse dean, effective June 30, 2008.

Of course, he will leave the school with a sizeable record of accomplishments, one being the change in culture of Newhouse’s student body.

Newhouse is not only more racially diverse than ever – about 20 percent of each freshman class is made up of minority students – but its difficulty, in terms of the number of applicants versus the number of students admitted, has increased substantially.

‘It’s essentially ivy league level now,’ Rubin said. ‘We have a very good student body, and getting better every year.’

Rubin expanded the number of funded chairs, like the Knight Chair in Political Reporting and the Alexia Tsairis Chair in Documentary Photography, as well as the number of Newhouse centers, such as the Bleier Center, the Tully Center for Free Speech and the Center for Convergence.

He also increased the number of computers within the complex.

When Rubin first arrived on campus, Newhouse had one computer lab with 20 machines and no information technology staff. The school still had electric typewriters.

Now, the complex boasts more than a dozen computer labs with more than 300 machines.

‘This is a much different place than it was in 1990. Our national visibility is much greater, and the brand is very strong,’ Rubin said. ‘Newhouse is now arguably one of the top three or four schools in communications in the country. And I would not have said that in 1990.’

Rubin said it’s important to leave before people want you to go, not after.

For those paying attention, Nash said, his decision to step down in April should have come as no surprise.

‘He wanted to stay through the opening of Newhouse III, then take a year off,’ Nash said. ‘But he’ll still be around [to teach]; he just won’t be the dean.’

Even so, with Newhouse III’s dedication just a day away, some feel Rubin’s resignation is a bit premature.

‘He essentially got this castle built,’ Thompson said. ‘I wish he’d be king for a little longer.’

Published on September 17, 2007 at 12:00 pm