The First Madame President : NCAA: UC San Diego Athletic Director Judy Sweet is taking her intense work ethic to a new level for women in college athletics.

The Manila folder, bulging with congratulatory letters and telegrams, sits proudly atop the desk. Plaques acknowledging her distinction cover the walls of her office at UC San Diego. A photo album from a recent reception in her honor sits nearby.

Judy Sweet is reminded daily of her influence. Teen-age girls call her a role model. Professional women consider her a hero. Talk-show hosts seek her time. College and university presidents desire her friendship.

Sweet, 43, hurdling an obstacle that forever could change the role of women in intercollegiate sports, is, as of a month ago, the first female president in the NCAA’s history.

“I’ve had so many women write to me, saying they never thought there’d be a day that there would be a woman president,” Sweet said. “And, you know, these women who are telling me that aren’t very old.”

The letters, coming from all parts of the country, have a common thread of fulfillment and optimism. They tell her that womanhood finally has reached the mountaintop in athletic administration. If the NCAA can step out of the dark ages, equal opportunity must be around the corner for the rest of the world.

Sweet, who is in her 16th year as athletic director at UC San Diego, wishes at times she could share in the euphoria. Sure, what she has accomplished never will be forgotten. And she’s hopeful of performing in such a way during her two-year presidency that the NCAA will be clamoring for another female president.

But Sweet knows that it’s naive to believe she can change the world. No matter what kind of job she does, some will disregard her achievements simply because of her sex. Some refuse to even give her a chance.

In her office, kept on file, is a postcard from a man. The message, in vulgar language, is clear. He doesn’t want a woman running the NCAA and is incensed that Sweet dared to be a candidate.

Sweet also has kept a copy of a newspaper column. It was a written by Furman Bisher, sports editor of the Atlanta Journal, revealing just what he thought about Sweet’s appointment:

“The installation of a woman as NCAA president befuddles me. Dr. Judith Sweet is no doubt a quite competent person, but this is mainly a male organization, and I consider her ascension as pure tokenism. Like having a debutante as head of the National Mule-skinners Assn. . . . This is a precarious time for a female president in the man’s NCAA world, a hotbed of reformation and reaction.”

Sweet has yet to respond to either the postcard or the column. She doesn’t know if she’ll bother. Yet she saves both.

“It’s a reminder that some attitudes won’t change, and that we don’t get lulled in a false sense of security,” Sweet said.

“I feel sorry for people like that, but I also recognize it’s part of our society.”

There are many others, Sweet said, who probably share such an opinion but cloak it. Some are in the NCAA. Some are at UCSD. Some probably are in her neighborhood.

Sweet has been battling discrimination all of her life and, if anyone thinks that a little antagonism will fluster her, he had better think again.

“There’s still going to be a lot of prejudice out there,” said Sue Collins, who chairs the nominating committee. “But I’ll tell you what, there’s certainly no one more qualified than Judy to be president.

“There’s going to be pressure on her, and people are going to be watching closely, but once she has the opportunity to show what she can do, people will know just how impressive she is. I’ve never heard anyone say anything derogatory or unkind about Judy.

“I know this: if you had to pick anyone you wanted to be the first woman president, there could not have been a better first.”

This hardly was the life Sam and Ann Sweet envisioned for their daughter. She was the baby of the family and their only daughter. They always believed it was a miracle that Judy was born, considering Ann was 39 and their two sons were nearly 11 and 8.

You talk to anyone who knows the Sweet family in Milwaukee, and they will tell you how they spoiled Judy. Her shelves were lined with dolls. Her closet had so many skirts and dresses, her mother says, that she could wear a different one each day for months without running out.

“She had dresses by the dozens, and all these dolls, but they never got any use,” said Ann Sweet, 82. “Every time we turned around, Judy was outside playing with the boys. She always was playing sports and, the funny thing was, everyone wanted her on their team.”

Said brother Jim, 50: “Let’s just say my mother kept hoping Judy would start wearing skirts and dresses, but she finally gave up.”

Judy stayed with sports all through high school, but, because there were no team sports for girls then, she excelled at the only co-ed competition available to her--the classroom. Judy was valedictorian at Marshall High School and went to the University of Wisconsin with lofty aspirations.

“If you were a female at that time, you had two options,” Sweet said. “You could either be a nurse or a teacher. I didn’t like the sight of blood, so I ruled out being a nurse.”

It wasn’t long before Sam and Ann Sweet were shaking their heads again. Judy no longer wanted to be a math teacher. Now she was informing them, of all things, that she wanted to major in physical education.

“The family couldn’t believe it,” said her brother Monte, 53. “I mean, every family wants their daughter to be a doctor or a lawyer, especially with the grades she was getting, and then to have her go into athletics. . . .”

Said Jim Sweet: “I don’t think any of us much liked the idea of her becoming a gym teacher.”

Judy, exhibiting her independence as well as her stubbornness, played club sports and graduated with honors from Wisconsin in 1969. She immediately took off to become a coach at Tulane. She became the first member of the family to leave the state and, until a few years ago, the Sweets held out hope that she would return.

“We even kept her room for her,” Ann Sweet said. “It was vacant all those years, and we still called it Judy’s room.”

Judy never returned. She coached several sports at Tulane and, after a year, left for Arizona in 1970 to become badminton coach. She stayed two years, getting her master’s degree, and was on the move again.

This time, she really drove the family crazy. She moved to San Diego, where she had no job. She grabbed one of the cheapest apartments she could find, went to the beach every day and scoured the want ads.

“I said, ‘Judy, what are you going to do if you can’t find a job?’ ” Ann Sweet said. “She told me, ‘Ah, mom, I can always be a waitress.’ ”

But Judy Sweet never put on the apron. She was telephoned a day before the start of classes by Kearny High School. They needed a dance teacher. Sweet jumped at the opportunity.

She never had taught dance in her life.

“I really didn’t know what I was doing, but I learned quick,” she said.

It proved to be another one-year adventure when UCSD began searching for a badminton coach. Ah yes, finally a job where she had experience. Sweet started in the fall of 1973.

The family had hope, after all.

If you want to find a hero in the Judy Sweet story, a person who risked his future by believing in equality, look no further than Howard Hunt.

Hunt, athletic director for nine years and head of the UC San Diego physical education department until 1987, appointed Sweet assistant athletic director in 1974. He then bypassed friends--and two male finalists--in making Sweet his successor as athletic director a year later.

It was the first time in this country a woman had been appointed to administer a joint men’s and women’s athletic program.

It was also the first time faculty members and friends thought Hunt had lost his mind.

“A lot of my colleagues found it difficult to accept,” Hunt said. “They weren’t ready for a woman to handle a men’s program. I had friends calling me and saying, ‘What in the world are you doing?’ We had lots of anonymous letters, even two from men in prison, who were criticizing us. There were a lot of people who weren’t real happy.

“But I just saw something special in Judy. She was so well organized. She conceptualizes so well. She had the perception to see the program had great potential for development.”

Certainly, it wasn’t the ideal situation for a 27-year-old woman. There was immediate animosity between Sweet and several coaches. The entire athletic budget was only $90,000, and that included salaries. And the only athletic championship of any kind had been the 1969 NAIA men’s volleyball title.

“I was able to work out the differences with most of the people who weren’t enthusiastic about me taking over,” Sweet said. “The others, let’s say, chose not to be a part of the program any longer.”

Sweet’s colleagues soon learned that this was one tough lady. There were going to be big changes. If you didn’t like it, Sweet was right there holding the door for your departure.

The antiquated athletic budget needed to be overhauled. It was critical to advance from an NAIA program to NCAA Division III. New facilities were required. Most important, all sports programs would be treated equally.

Whatever the men’s basketball budget required, so did the women’s. Whatever the baseball team received for uniforms and out-of-town trips, so did the badminton team. There no longer would be favorites.

“There was resentment,” said Jack Vallerga, coach of women’s crew. “First of all, she was not part of the senior staff. And second, she was a female in what had been a male world. We had a lot of turnover those first few years, believe me.

“But it wasn’t that long before she started winning everyone’s respect. She was confident, but not in a brash way. She was friendly, but not overbearing. She stabilized the whole department.”

Take a look around campus now. There’s a new track stadium. The baseball stadium is a year old. The soccer stadium and multipurpose field are two years old. The aquatics stadium is six years old. There’s a $34-million arena scheduled to be completed in 1994.

The university, with an athletic budget of $900,000, has one of the most dominant Division III programs in the nation. In the last 10 years, it has won six women’s volleyball championships, three women’s tennis titles, two women’s water polo titles and a men’s and women’s soccer championship.

Although the school does not offer athletic scholarships, and the top three majors are general biology, political science and psychology, the Tritons have become so powerful athletically that they are having difficulty finding schools willing to play them. The Division III opponents are tired of being embarrassed, and Division I and Division II schools don’t want to risk a similar experience.

“When we were losing, the phone used to ring off the hook,” said Tom O’Malley, men’s basketball coach. “Now, we can’t even get a game.”

The university is discussing the possibility of becoming a Division II program, and a decision is expected by May.

Sweet’s prominence and popularity perhaps are best reflected by her coaching staff. It doesn’t seem to matter that the average salary is $15,000 and no one earns more than $25,000. No one is leaving. The average tenure of the staff is approaching 10 years.

“Salaries have never been a big reason for coaching here,” said Lyle Yates, baseball coach. “But obviously, if coaches were unhappy, you wouldn’t see all of us hanging around.”

Sweet has been surrounded by virtually the same coaching staff for 10 years, but no one really knows her. They see her attending events. They talk to her when they have problems. They are always requesting more money for their budget.

It’s always business. Sweet isn’t sitting around campus having leisurely lunches with the staff. She doesn’t go out for beers after big victories. She isn’t basking in the sun during weekend get-togethers.

“I’m sure she’s got her personal time,” said Mike Hipp, assistant athletic director. “But it’s sure hard to find.”

Said Earl Edwards, associate athletic director: “She’s a lot more sensitive than people think. I think because she’s so businesslike and professional, people misinterpret that as being insensitive.”

If you want to know Judy Sweet, show up at her office. This is where she spends her leisure hours. The computer usually is on and a phone is resting on her shoulder.

One recent weekend, when Yates was trying to prepare for the baseball season, he went to the office Saturday and Sunday and found Sweet. He showed up to work at 7:30 Monday morning. Sweet already was working on the computer.

“I always ask her when is she going to take a vacation and start using all of that travel mileage she’s accumulated,” said Marilyn Hill, athletic coordinator. “She just looks at us and laughs.”

When was the last time Sweet took a vacation?

“Well, I spent a couple of days in Wisconsin during the holidays,” she said.

OK, how about a real vacation, one lasting at least a week?

“I, uh, really don’t remember,” she said.

There was a time when Sweet’s hobby was making stained-glass windows. That was 10 years ago. She used to play tennis in her free time. She hasn’t picked up a racket in years.

“Some people get high off liquor,” Jim Sweet said. “Some people get high off drugs. Judy gets her high off work.”

Sweet’s spare time now belongs to the NCAA. It’s necessary for her to take about 26 trips a year for NCAA meetings, and she’s currently on a 10-day trip that will take her to Kansas City, Cincinnati and Washington, D.C.

But even before she was appointed president in January, Sweet was on every committee imaginable. She’s on budget committees, minority committees, TV committees, committees to study committees.

“That’s why if anybody is so ignorant as to think this is just some sort of token thing, I would tell them they don’t know Judy Sweet,” said Jim Delany, commissioner of the Big Ten Conference.

This is the same woman who in 1982 was disturbed by the actions of her homeowners’ association in La Jolla. The association elected a new president. Guess who has been president the past nine years?

This is the same woman who requires all athletes to complete forms evaluating their coaches--and takes them seriously.

And this is the same woman who has been offered the athletic director’s job at the University of Washington, which would make her the only female Division I-A athletic director in the country.

She’s staying put.

“I’ll be perfectly blunt with you, we’d have a terrible, terrible problem if Judy ever left us,” said A.W. Russ, associate vice chancellor for undergraduate affairs. “Oh, man, I hate even thinking about it.”

Sweet is asked all the time, particularly since becoming president, exactly what she’ll do after her two-year term expires. Maybe she’ll go into big business. Perhaps she’ll be wooed away to a major university with a $20-million athletic budget. Who knows? It’s even possible she will just relax a bit and allow herself to be occupied only by her duties at UC San Diego.

“I really don’t know what life as usual is anymore,” Sweet said. “Everyone tells me to take it easy, but there’s no time. It’s important to me to do this job to the best of my abilities.

“I hope women are realistic to know I’m not going to be a savior, but I know I’m in a position now to have my voice be heard, and people will listen.

“I also recognize the importance of my job, because my performance will reflect on other women in this role.

“I am the first.

“I want to make sure I’m not the last.”