In 1988, as one of her first acts as the new chancellor of the University of Wisconsin-Madison, Donna Shalala convened a get-to-know-you meeting with student government leaders. Suddenly, the meeting was crashed by Black Student Union leaders angry about the tiny share of minorities in the student and faculty population as well as offensive actions by some fraternity members.

"Chancellor Shalala, you have a major issue with the racial climate here!" thundered Charles Holley, co-president of the BSU.

"Charles Holley, I know who you are. I know we have a problem. And we are going to do something about it," Shalala calmly replied, defusing tensions. Holley says Shalala really impressed him when the 5-foot-tall daughter of Lebanese immigrants then gave him a perfectly authentic soul handshake. "As my grandfather would say, you could tell she had been out after dark," Holley says, laughing.

Unfortunately, Shalala's attempts to solve the racial tensions created as much controversy as results. Conservatives attacked her as the "high priestess of political correctness." Liberals were disappointed that by the time she left the school to become the secretary of health and human services for the Clinton administration, the percentage of minority students had risen from 5.7 to only 8 percent. But both sides praise Shalala's people and leadership skills. "If being a leader is bringing energy, commitment, and focus to an issue," says Holley, "she definitely does that."

Conflict. Shalala, now president of the University of Miami, has played a role in some of the hottest controversies of our time, including race, censorship, healthcare, welfare, and education. She has made significant incremental improvements while winning the admiration of many political opponents.

When, in late 2000, the University of Miami announced that it had chosen Shalala to be its leader, Mario Diaz-Balart, then a conservative Republican state representative, publicly worried that the liberal Democrat wouldn't be able to win crucial government grants in Republican-led state and federal governments. But Diaz-Balart, now in Congress, says he has become "one of her biggest fans. . . . She is a great listener. She cherishes Miami's diversity. She has gained acceptance by everyone and done a spectacular job."

Shalala seemed destined to run something from the start. There was the time a tornado hit her hometown of Cleveland. While the family rushed to the cellar, 10-year-old Donna ran to the street to direct traffic. Early on, she also showed a remarkable persistence and ability to charm VIP s. When, in the summer of 1951, the college student who was coaching the local Annie Oakleys softball team wouldn't let Donna play first base, she bugged him until he gave in. "What she lacked in size," recalls the coach, one George Steinbrenner, "she made up for in feistiness."

Fast friend. The Boss is just one of a remarkable collection of celebrities and power brokers whom Shalala can count as friends.

But she has also gathered hundreds of nonfamous people into her orbit. When the daughter of her former Washington hairdresser, evacuated from Tulane University, had trouble continuing her studies at the University of Maryland, Shalala helped her get into courses. Shalala "has goodness of heart," says the hairdresser, Ury Emsellem.