By Rob Holbert Managing Editor

By now most of us know incoming Mobile County School Superintendent Roy Nichols is going to be raking in at least $210,000 annually and has a “gentleman’s agreement” with the school board that they won’t micromanage him like they do everything else. (He’s also agreed to believe in Santa Claus.)

And while board president Judy Stout and the rest of the gang were reluctant to divulge details of the contract prior to its passage, most of us have had an opportunity by now to look over the deal and wonder why this guy’s getting so much more than the last guy for doing the same job. But then again, as Judy made amply clear, that really isn’t our concern. All we need to know is the cafeteria is serving pepperoni pizza next Friday and the Lunch Lady’s skin condition has indeed cleared up completely.

However, even though the final deal is done and out there in the public domain, it might be more instructive to look at some of the items left on the negotiating table in order to determine if this is a match made in heaven or a match made in Barton Academy West. (That’s the old QMS Bunker outside of town for those of you who didn’t know the school board has gone Branch Davidian on us and has grabbed a piece of land large enough to create a small town.)

Fortunately for you, dear reader, through use of knockout drops, heavy-load-bearing suction cups and nipple clamps I was able to get some of the early drafts of the contract between Nichols and the school board. Perhaps these scrapped proposals offer as much insight into the future relationship between the board and Nichols as does the final draft.

Here are a few of the most important proposals that didn’t make the cut:

• Instead of signing an agreement not to micromanage Dr. Nichols, the school board attempted to have part of the contract say the board would only micromanage when it came to hiring a cousin, good friend, sexual partner, relative by marriage or some guy they met at a bar.

• Dr. Nichols originally asked for $400,000 annually, but would reduce his offer if the board would fix up Barton Academy as the Superintendent’s Castle.

• Nichols asked that he be allowed to have no fewer than 30 Elvis impersonators and five jugglers at his swearing-in ceremony.

• Nichols eventually settled on a $1,000-a-month allowance for transportation. Originally, however, he had asked for a helicopter to whisk him from his home each day to a heliport that would be built at the School Compound, since that’s what some other CEOs do.

• School board member Hazel Fornier counter-offered to pick Nichols up each morning and take him through the Hardee’s drive-through for a sausage biscuit.

• Nichols countered a proposal that ties monetary incentives to improved test scores by suggesting that the board tie monetary incentives to an overall decrease in the number of fingers cut off in shop classes.

• Though the final contract gives Nichols a very generous four weeks of vacation annually, he originally asked that he be given four weeks of vacation and another four weeks of “just kind of sitting behind my desk surfing the Web.”

OK, maybe there’s nothing to be learned there. But there is a lot we already do know, or at least sense about this recent dance between the board and the new super. The truth is there’s a great deal of skepticism out there about this move to a new superintendent and the school board’s ability to actually choose someone competent.

Is it crazy to pay someone over $200K a year to run a 67,000-student system? Probably not. But when you up the position salary by about a third, you’re bound to run into trouble. From Nichols’ side of the equation, the fact that he came in asking for even more than that seems to suggest a rather naοve approach to winning over a community that isn’t exactly clamoring to ditch his predecessor. Or maybe it just suggests money was his most important reason for coming here. Wouldn’t it have made a little more sense on both sides to keep the salary a bit lower and give the man a raise once he’s actually reduced the number of fingers cut off in shop class?

The process turned from improving the schools to “Let’s Make a Deal,” which was a mistake. Because the salary was so much higher than Dodge’s, it was bound to become a focal point. Including the grand-a-month for transportation was also an irritant. Most of us who make far less than $200K a year have to buy our own beaters to drive around. (By the way Roy, I’m willing to lease the Moon Buggy for $600 a month. Give me a ring.) That kind of thing always sits poorly with the rankled-and-file – the highest-paid guy doesn’t even have to buy his own car.

I know we’re all harping a lot on this salary thing, but it’s really the only thing we know right now. Dr. Nichols will face much scrutiny because the salary was so much higher than Harold Dodge’s.

That high salary will be trotted out at every misstep, assuming there are some, and will become an absolute albatross if Nichols isn’t everything the board promises.

Already I’m a little disappointed that he didn’t stick to his guns about requiring the board to sign an agreement not to micromanage. That bit had me thinking this guy might really have an edge, until he settled for the now-famous “gentleman’s agreement.”

We’ll see what he’s made of the first time one of the board members has a ne’r-do-well cousin who needs a job, or is wooing someone who wants to be a principle. (Oh, let’s not act like THAT hasn’t happened before.)

When the board members come calling, then we’ll see if Dr. Nichols is worth the price of admission. I certainly hope he is.

Rob Holbert is Lagniappe managing editor. Contact him at rholbert@lagniappemobile.com.

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