by Bill Moushey
Paterno also tried to explain his own role in the case laid out by prosecutors. In 2002, when he was told that a naked Sandusky was spotted in the football showers with a boy, Paterno said, he did what the law required: he reported it up the Penn State chain of command. In his statement he said, “As my grand jury testimony stated, I was informed in 2002 by an assistant coach that he had witnessed an incident in the shower of our locker room facility. It was obvious the witness was distraught over what he saw, but he at no time related to me the very specific actions contained in the grand jury report. . . . I understand that people are upset and angry, but let’s be fair and let the legal process unfold. In the meantime I would ask all Penn Staters to continue to trust in what that name represents, continue to pursue their lives every day with high ideals and not let these events shake their beliefs in who they are.”
The Penn State Board of Trustees, sensing the gravity of the rapidly unfolding developments, held the first of several emergency meetings Sunday night, most members attending by conference call. Sandusky was banned from campus altogether. Curley was placed on administrative leave. Schultz, who had retired from the university in 2009 and emerged from retirement on an as-needed basis, returned to retirement. The university announced it would be paying the legal fees for Curley and Schultz.
Students awoke Monday morning to find the streets lined with TV satellite trucks. News organizations from ABC to CNN to ESPN were plumbing Penn State for details. However, the big news event was in Harrisburg. The attorney general’s office held its news conference on its investigation and the arrests. Prosecutors emphasized that Paterno had followed the letter of the law by reporting what he knew to his nominal superiors, but the investigation was continuing.
State Police Commissioner Frank Noonan, who had seen combat as a Marine Corps officer in Vietnam, talked about the fallout just beginning to damage the university. Of McQueary’s allegations, the state’s top cop said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been associated with a case with this type of eyewitness identification of sex acts taking place where the police weren’t called.” Noonan emphasized that all citizens, including big-name football coaches, have a moral responsibility to protect children. “This is not a case about football. It’s not a case about universities. It’s a case about children who have had their innocence stolen from them and a culture that did nothing to stop it or prevent it from happening to others.”
Jennifer Storm, the executive director of the Victim/Witness Assistance Program in Harrisburg, who herself was a Penn State alumna, used a meeting with the media to urge other young men who might be out there to come for counseling. Storm is the author of three books about the emotional demons that have plagued her since she was raped at the age of twelve. “The totality of the charges made the biggest impact,” she said in a later interview. “It’s easy to refute one or two people, but the number of those talking about sexual abuse continued to build. From the time I read the presentment, it was black and white. I was physically sick to my stomach. The Penn State administration knew about it and failed to do anything except to protect themselves and their institution. They created a grooming playground. But I also sobbed hysterically for all the alumni and all those who bleed Blue and White. They didn’t ask for any of this.”
Meanwhile Curley and Schultz surrendered and were arraigned before Magisterial District Judge Marsha Stewart. Bail was set at $75,000 each, which they posted before they were released. Caroline Roberto, the attorney representing Curley, said the charge of failing to report Sandusky under the Child Protective Services Law was a “summary offense” that was the legal equivalent of a traffic ticket. “It’s unconscionable that the attorney general would level such a weak case against a man of integrity like Tim Curley,” she said. “A perjury charge is a red flag that the charges against him are weak. . . . Tim Curley is innocent of all charges against him. We will vigorously challenge the charges in court, and we are confident he will be exonerated.”
At the Atherton Street offices of The Second Mile in State College, messages intended for the media were taped to the locked front door. One statement read, “We do not feel an interview would be appropriate, since this matter involves a criminal investigation, and we do not want to do anything that might interfere with law enforcement officials or the legal process.”
On Tuesday, November 8, the Patriot-News ran an editorial that took up the entire front page. In type normally reserved for headlines, the editorial declared, “There are obligations we all have to uphold the law. There are then the obligations we all have to do what is right.” The Daily Collegian, a student-run newspaper on the Penn State campus, also editorialized, “The moral failure of every single person involved is appalling. No one did anything more than try to sweep this problem off-campus. . . . The university has brought shame upon itself.”
No Penn State official had yet faced the media since Sandusky’s arrest. Paterno was being blasted in the media and throughout the nation because he passed the damning allegations against Sandusky by McQueary off to Curley and did nothing after it was hushed up without a formal investigation. Some were calling for his scalp. Behind the scenes, Graham Spanier asked the board to give him the authority to be the crisis manager and the voice of the university, even though there was mounting outrage over his support of Curley and Schultz. Spanier also argued against the sentiment of a few board members to cancel the upcoming Nebraska game, and possibly the rest of the football season. Having urged the trustees to spare Paterno’s job, Spanier also asked for a vote of confidence that would show a united front. The trustees refused all of Spanier’s requests.
Throughout his career Joe Paterno held weekly meetings with the media on Tuesdays, so on November 8, the Tuesday following Sandusky’s arrest, the media horde, larger than ever, assembled in the interview room at Beaver Stadium. Less than an hour before the news conference was to start, Spanier canceled it. Paterno walked past the assembled reporters while making his way to the regularly scheduled football practice. “I know you guys have a lot of questions,” he remarked. “I was hoping I could answer them today. We’ll try to do it as soon as we can.”
The board of trustees issued its own statement, saying it was outraged by the horrifying details laid out by prosecutors. It said a special committee had been appointed to ensure that a scandal like the one unfolding would never happen at Penn State again. The board was acknowledging that the university had lost its most precious asset: trust. The statement continued, “We cannot begin to express the combination of sorrow and anger that we feel. . . . We are dedicated to protecting those who are placed in our care. We promise you that we are committed to restoring public trust in the university.”
As evening fell, some students gathered at Old Main, home to the university’s administrative offices. Others, agitated by all the media attention, congregated at various spots on campus and in State College. Some maintained a vigil at the Paterno house on McKee Street. Sue Paterno came to the door and blew a kiss to the well-wishers. Her son Scott asked the students to pray for the victims, saying, “No matter how this works out, there is a horrible story involving a lot of kids getting hurt. . . . Let’s remember to show support for the victims first.” The students in the yard formed a circle of unity and observed a minute of silence.
A short time later Paterno came to the window to thank his supporters. “I feel sorry for the victims,” he said. “We are Penn State. We are family. . . . I lived for this place. I’ve lived for people like you guys and girls. It’s hard for me to say how much this means. Beat Nebraska!”
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 9, WAS A DAY of inevitability for Joe Paterno. For decades he had talked about stepping down as coach but had always found a reason to stay on. Now, in the final year of his latest contract, with an uproar too loud to control, Paterno attempted to leave on his own terms. He announced his resignation after forty-six years as head coach and sixty-one seasons at Penn State. He was the most acclaimed coach in the history of colleg
e football. He had piled up more victories, more winning seasons, and more bowl victories than any other coach. He had won two National Championships, fielded five undefeated teams, and won three Big Ten championships. He had been named “Coach of the Year” five times by the American Football Coaches Association, and he had stayed with one school longer than had any other coach. Some 350 of his players had played professionally in the National Football League, thirty-three of them first-round draft choices. JoePa had produced seventy-eight first-team All-Americans and coached one Heisman Trophy winner. What’s more, under his watch Penn State had forty-seven Academic All-Americans, including sixteen honored as scholar-athletes by the National Football Foundation. During his time at Penn State twelve different men had occupied the White House, starting with Harry Truman in 1950. JoePa was the face of Penn State, the central figure in its money-raising machine. In the college bookstore life-size figures of Paterno, called “Stand-up Joes,” were sold along with all manner of items bearing his likeness. Now his reign was coming to an end.
Paterno intended to coach through the rest of the season, three more regular season games. By so doing he could break Amos Alonzo Stagg’s mark for most games coached in a career. The Nittany Lions were still in contention for the Big Ten championship, and they would surely be invited to a bowl game. At that point there could be a grand farewell for the beloved coach.
“I am absolutely devastated by the developments in this case. I grieve for the children and their families, and I pray for their comfort and relief,” Paterno said in a statement. “At this moment, the board of trustees should not spend a single minute discussing my status. They have far more important matters to address. I want to make this as easy for them as I possibly can. This is a tragedy. It is one of the great sorrows of my life. With the benefit of hindsight, I wish I had done more. My goals are to keep my commitments to my players and staff and to finish the season with dignity and determination. And then I will spend the rest of my life doing everything I can to help this university.”
For several days, however, the board of trustees had been contemplating what to do about Paterno and his future. It considered Paterno’s ongoing status important enough to address later that day.
At the Lasch Building, where the Nittany Lions had gathered for practice, Paterno met privately for ten minutes with his team to tell them of his decision to leave his coaching post. He broke down as he spoke the words. Players witnessed their coach crying for the first time in sixty-one years. After the emotional announcement, Paterno watched practice from his golf cart before heading home. He had no idea that this Wednesday practice would be his final act as a coach.
Meanwhile an artist named Michael Pilato was making alterations to his massive mural Inspiration, which adorns the side of a building half a block long on Heister Street near the campus bookstore. He had been working on the mural for ten years, and it features many of the personalities from Penn State and State College, including Jerry Sandusky. The mother of one of Sandusky’s accusers had emailed him that morning to suggest that he remove Sandusky’s image, and now Pilato climbed a ladder with paintbrush in hand. He proceeded to paint Sandusky out, telling reporters, “It saddens me to do this. He fooled me like he fooled everyone.” Painting over the damage wrought by Sandusky would not be that easy. The artist painted a blue ribbon, the symbol used in campaigns against child abuse, on the mural where Sandusky had been portrayed sitting in a chair. He also painted a blue ribbon on the shirt of a smiling Joe Paterno, the central figure of the grand masterpiece.
By the time the Penn State Board of Trustees met in another emergency session that Wednesday night, its vice chairman, John Surma, chief executive officer of U.S. Steel, had been chosen to speak for the university in place of Spanier. Instead of following the university president’s suggestions on crisis management, the board chose to retain the services of a national public relations firm, Ketchum, based in New York City. The sixteen-year president realized his time had come. He stepped down, effective immediately. Joe Paterno was not even allowed to dictate the terms of his retirement, and was fired on the spot, after six decades of unflinching devoted service.
Word that the board of trustees had taken action against JoePa reached the Paterno household in a note delivered by Fran Ganter, associate athletic director for football, at 10:15 p.m. The note carried a telephone number, nothing more. There was urgency. The board had scheduled a press conference at the Penn Stater Hotel for 10:30 that evening, fifteen minutes away. According to reports, Paterno called the phone number and talked with Surma, who gave him the news of his dismissal. He hung up without saying a word.
In addressing the media that night, Surma said, “We thought that because of the difficulties that engulfed our university—and they are great—it was necessary for us to make a change in the leadership and set a course for a new direction. The university is much larger than its athletic programs.”
About twenty minutes after he was given the axe, Joe Paterno came to his front door to address a group of about forty students who had gathered to support him. With his wife at his side, Paterno said, “Right now, I’m not the coach, and I have to get used to that. I didn’t think it was going to happen this way.”
The news conference was televised in the student union. Some students reacted angrily to what had happened to Paterno, shouting, “Fuck Graham Spanier. Fuck Sandusky.” Facebook posts called for immediate demonstrations. About 2,000 students funneled their way into town through Beaver Canyon, the core of the student apartment area that stretches between McAllister and Garner Streets, leading to Beaver Avenue. They were chanting, “Fuck the trustees! Fuck the media!” and setting off fireworks. On College Avenue nearby, rioting students in range of surveillance cameras tore down a lamppost and street signs. They also flipped over the news truck of WTAJ-TV, a CBS affiliate from Altoona. The damage that night was estimated to be in the range of $200,000. State College police, reinforced by state troopers on horseback, donned riot gear and had tear gas at the ready in case the demonstrations got further out of hand.
Outside Old Main some students voiced quieter messages. One held a sign that said, “Kids before Football.” Another’s placard read, “Paterno’s Not a Victim.”
A week or so before Sandusky’s arrest, Governor Tom Corbett had alerted Penn State officials that he would attend the regularly scheduled meeting of the board of trustees on November 10. One of the duties of the governor is to serve on the board that has oversight of the university. Corbett had also been the state’s attorney general when the investigation into Sandusky had begun three years earlier. While there is no evidence to indicate that the governor had inside information that the arrests of Sandusky, Curly, and Schultz were coming down, his timing was impeccable: he was present to hold a news conference on Thursday, November 10. He used the occasion to express his disappointment in Joe Paterno and Graham Spanier and to support the board’s decision made the night before to fire Paterno and accept Spanier’s resignation. “Their actions cause me to not have confidence in their ability to lead. . . . When it comes to the safety of children, there can be no margin for error, no hesitation to act,” Corbett said.
Just prior to the vote on the fate of Spanier and Paterno, Corbett said, he told the other trustees, “We must remember that ten-year-old child and those other children.” The governor applauded the Penn State student leaders for showing solidarity with the young men. As for the students who flipped over the TV truck and lashed out with destructive acts, Corbett called them “knuckleheads.”
The Daily Collegian published an editorial: “Wednesday night was an embarrassment for Penn State. . . . The way the students reacted set our university two steps back.”
On Thursday, November 10, an interim head football coach was introduced. Tom Bradley, a Johnstown native who played football as a defensive back under Paterno and was captain of the special teams unit, was the man. As a player, he was given the nickname “Scrap” because he was undersi
zed but full of fight. Bradley had been a member of the coaching staff for thirty-three years. He had succeeded Sandusky as defensive coordinator in 1999, and he was often mentioned as Paterno’s heir-apparent.
Ordinarily the coach would be answering questions about the upcoming game with Nebraska. But when Bradley held his first news conference, in the same Beaver Stadium media room where JoePa sparred with reporters, football questions took a backseat. “Coach Paterno has meant more to me than anybody except my father. Coach Paterno will go down in history as one of the greatest men. . . . I’m proud to say I worked for him,” Bradley said. As for the job ahead, Bradley was optimistic. “We are obviously in a very unprecedented situation,” he said. “I just have to find a way to restore the confidence and to start a healing process with everybody.” It was noted that Mike McQueary would be on the sidelines for Saturday’s game. Bradley said it was the university’s decision.
On Friday, November 11, the university reversed itself and said Assistant Coach Mike McQueary would not be on the sidelines for Saturday’s game. McQueary was put on indefinite administrative leave with full pay after a number of threats on his life were received.
Rodney Erickson, a long-time Spanier underling who had worked in several administrative jobs at Penn State, was sworn in as Penn State’s interim president. In his first address to the public he said, “Healing cannot occur until we understand how responsibilities to these children failed and how we can prevent such tragedies in the future.” He also promised a new era of openness and transparency in conducting school business. “Never again should anyone at Penn State—regardless of their position—feel scared to do the right thing.”
After a week that had exhausted the emotions of just about everyone, calm descended on campus Friday evening. Jessica Sever, a senior majoring in public relations, helped organize a candlelight vigil to show support for the boys mentioned in the investigation. The vigil was held on the lawn in front of Old Main, where two nights earlier angry students had gathered before going on a destructive tear in State College. About 10,000 students attended the vigil—five times more than the number who rioted. At ten o’clock, when the bells in the Old Main tower rang, a moment of silence was observed for the alleged victims. Cheerleaders, who normally would be getting the student body pumped up for the big game against Nebraska, handed out blue placards that said “Stop Child Abuse” instead.