The odd couple

By Emily Richmond (contact)

Sunday, July 2, 2006 | 7:40 a.m.

Felix and Oscar are on the road.

Diet 7-Up vs. Classic Coke.

Nevada's two top education officials - Clark County Schools Superintendent Walt Rulffes and University System Chancellor Jim Rogers - are criss-crossing Southern Nevada pushing ideas that could shape education in the state for decades to come. First up is "K-16 education," which is what they call their effort to make the step between high school and college as seamless as possible by ensuring that students are prepared academically for the leap.

So in they came last week to talk to the Sun editorial board, Rulffes in a crisp checked shirt and navy tie, Rogers in rumpled shirt with stripes and open collar.

Six months ago, you never would have guessed this pairing. Rogers was part of a group known as the Council for a Better Nevada that was pushing hard for a new school superintendent from outside the district.

Rulffes was the insider who wanted the job.

The choice came down to two - Rulffes and a chap from New York. Then New York withdrew.

Rulffes got the job.

At the Sun last week, Rogers grabbed a Classic Coke and slouched into a chair.

Rulffes chose a Diet 7-Up and sat ramrod straight.

Rogers went directly to the old wound. Yes, he said, he had favored the other guy. But "I never wanted you to fail in any sense of the word."

Rulffes' quick retort: "I might not have picked you to be chancellor."

Tiny smiles.

Road show schtick.

The two men are pitching a message of solidarity, aimed at a common target of reducing high school dropout rates and improving student performance in higher education.

So what if Rogers shrank into his chair when Rulffes spoke of working to get school principals to "buy in" to his plan.

Or that Rulffes blanched when Rogers recalled a conversation with the two incoming presidents of UNLV and UNR. "I told them, 'You will cooperate or I will find two more.' "

Rogers' style is top down. He's a self-made mega-millionaire who earned education stripes by donating $280 million to higher education around the country. You want someone to buy in to a plan? Tell them to buy in to the plan.

Rogers explained why he told CCSN President Richard Carpenter to clear out dead-weight administrators: "The inmates are not going to run the asylum."

Rulffes blanched at Rogers' occasionally colorful speech. (A well-placed expletive is never wasted.)

Rogers blanched at Rulffes occasionally frightful speech. (He says "consensus" and "stakeholder" a lot.)

The two men are teaming up for community roundtables and town hall meetings. They don't stop at talk of K-16. They say they are finding opportunities for creative land swaps and joining forces when it comes to lobbying the Legislature for more education money.

And if it's one thing Rulffes and Rogers agree on, it's the value of the taxpayer's dollar.

The chancellor donates his $23,800 salary - the minimum salary allowed under state law - back to the university system. He has been known to whip out his personal checkbook to cover everything from copying costs for distributing copies of his speeches to $80,000 of the new UNR president's salary.

During Rulffes' tenure as the district's chief financial officer, he ordered administrators to turn in their company cars and canceled cell phone accounts, at a savings of more than $1 million annually.

Now as the top executive, he's paying 30 percent of the lease on his district car - even though his contract provides for full payment. He figures 30 percent of the driving will be done on personal time.

"This isn't a fight we can we unless we fight it together," Rogers said.

Rulffes clapped him on the shoulder and grinned.

They said their goodbyes. Then Rogers drove away in his Bentley, with Rulffes' leased Infinity not far behind.