The Galveston County Daily News

This past week, Dr. Michael McKinney, chancellor of The Texas A&M University System, said something I knew was coming. He denied that the board of regents had run off Dr. Elsa Murano, the president of Texas A&M at College Station, to make room for Gov. Rick Perry.

The reason I knew this was coming was that I was in Martin’s Place, 3403 S. College Ave., in Bryan, about a week ago.

I was at Texas A&M, working with some bright students, when I drove by a barbecue place with a historical marker outside.

I am under strict orders to watch my diet and cholesterol. But, when I saw Martin’s Place, I made a dangerous U-turn and pulled under the shade tree in the parking lot. I want to die, the last artery joyously clogged, in a place like that.

Steve Kapchinskie was in the back, cooking over an oak fire. His wife, Betty, was at the counter, and told me how Steve’s grandfather Martin founded the place in 1925.

Martin’s is generally filled with friendly folks. I got a couple of sandwiches and a Coca-Cola and listened to them talk.

Murano, the first woman and first Hispanic to head the university, had resigned after the regents gave her a scathing review. After the regents went on about her poor leadership skills, they made her president emerita and gave her a deal that ensures she’ll draw a generous salary for as long as she wants to.

What was behind all this?

University officials had nothing to say. So, sitting around at Martin’s, I listened to people talk about what they thought had happened.

The folks thought Perry, who appointed all nine regents, might need a job, as he’s facing a challenge from a popular U.S. senator, Kay Bailey Hutchison. Folks said it was simple: The regents were looking out for Perry.

I was intrigued, so for the next day or two I asked everyone I met on the street. I asked distinguished professors why they thought Dr. Murano was out. I asked a kid who was making sandwiches at Subway. I asked students, truck drivers and waitresses.

Although the regents hadn’t offered a word of explanation, everybody knew why Dr. Murano was out.

More often than you’d think, folks in government do something that’s inexplicable. They refuse to offer the public an explanation. They assume, when folks meet in barbecue places and coffee shops to discuss what happened, the happy citizenry will all recite in unison: The people in charge did that because they have our best interests in heart.

That kind of behavior is delusional, of course. But you’d be surprised how often it afflicts people in public office.