 How good is Caswell at his job?
Wilton Caswell, Ph.D., was head of my Sociology Department, and right then he was mad enough to chew nails. He bit off each word with great restraint: "Sociology is the study of social institutions, Mr. Halloway." He had a book in his hand and I was expecting him to throw it, but he spoke instead: "This department's analysis of institutional accretion, by the use of open system mathematics, has been recognized as an outstanding and valuable contribution to—" The words were impressive, whatever they meant, but this still didn't sound like anything that would pull in money. If they got the idea that sociology professors are giving advice and guidance—No, we have to stick to brass tacks and leave Washington out of this. Such simple questions as, 'Is there a way a holder of authority in this organization can use the power available to him to increase his power?' provide the key. "By these formulations, it is possible to determine automatically the amount of growth and period of life of any organization. They have to be convinced that by, 'furtherance of research into human ills,' he meant that the money should go to research fellowships for postgraduate biologists at the university, rather than to a medical foundation." I shook hands and left him standing there, sure of his place in the progress of science and the respect of his colleagues, yet seething inside because I, the president and dean, had boorishly demanded that he produce something tangible.
 He's good at his job but not enough people know it
 He's good at his job but not enough people know it  He's incompetent  He's known as the best in the world  He's respected by his students but never by his fellow staff