But the Machine's apparent involvement in an August school board election, a rare appearance in municipal politics, has prompted a lawsuit, accusations of voter fraud and an outcry that in many ways primed the campus for the larger storm over inclusion and tradition that is now taking place.
The race for the Tuscaloosa City Board of Education was already atypical. Business interests had announced a desire to remake the board, saying the rate of progress had been insufficient in a system of 10,000 students, most of them low-income. Fueled by business-financed political action committees, the challengers outraised the incumbents 10-to-1, reporting by far the most money raised in a Tuscaloosa school board race. Most of the challengers nonetheless lost.
In District 4, however, the challenger was Cason Kirby, a 26-year-old former student government president one year out of law school.
"I really decided it was someplace I could make a difference," Kirby said in an interview. He acknowledged that he had never been to a school board meeting before his campaign, but said he had growing concerns about the state of the city's schools and was encouraged by civic and business leaders to run.
He also had a natural base of support. "The limos and party bus are running constantly," read one of numerous similar emails circulated around Machine-affiliated sororities on Election Day. Free drinks were promised at local bars for those wearing 'I Voted' stickers. Sorority leaders were careful to emphasize that they were not endorsing a particular candidate but encouraged members to wear Cason Kirby T-shirts to the polls.
The numbers bear out their influence. Of the 369 voters registered in the district this year, 269 registered during one week in mid-August, and 94 percent of those newly registered voters were 21 or younger. Kirby won the race 416 to 329 votes.
His opponent, Kelly Horwitz, filed suit this month, claiming that many of the voters were ineligible, including 11 unrelated people who listed the same residence - a small, single-family house near the football stadium. The university president, Dr. Judy L. Bonner, said in a statement that after "the courts and appropriate state and/or local agencies have completed their investigation," the university might conduct its own inquiry.
Kirby denied condoning or knowing firsthand of any voting improprieties, saying Horwitz had also campaigned on campus. "College students have a right to participate in local elections," he said.
Legal issues aside, faculty members and others expressed outrage that an exclusive campus group like the Machine appeared to have brought its well-known tactics to bear in an election concerning a school system with a volatile racial history.
Lee Garrison, the newly elected chairman of the school board, called such outrage "the height of hypocrisy."
Garrison ran for Tuscaloosa City Council as a college senior in 1997, and he, too, won with the support of hundreds of fraternity and sorority members (his election was also challenged, unsuccessfully). He described organized Greek-system voting at Alabama as simply a kind of party politics and, more pointedly, questioned why the mobilization of sororities and fraternities was being challenged and not the get-out-the-vote operations of the teachers' union and black political organizations in Tuscaloosa.
"There is no difference," he said.
A possible distinction with the Machine is that its members refrain from discussing it explicitly or even acknowledging that it exists. Founded around 1905 as a chapter of Theta Nu Epsilon, a national fraternity, the group described itself in a 1989 statement in the university archives as "a brotherhood pledged to assist the business world," with members who "go on to become lawyers, attorney generals, governors and senators." This kind of influence is what prompts its critics to take it more seriously than just any secret campus group.
The university administration did not respond to repeated inquiries about its view of the Machine's role on campus.
Steve Flowers, a political columnist, former state legislator and University of Alabama graduate, said the Machine's political influence had waned. "When I was growing up, that was the way to go to Congress," he said. "You went to the University of Alabama, got into student government, got involved in the Machine, practiced law a little bit in your hometown, and you went to Washington."