Chicago History | Spring and Summer 1992

CHICAGO HISTORY The Magazine of the Chicago Historical Society

EDITOR RL '>~El.I. LE\l'IS

Spring and Summer 1992 Volume XXI, Numbers l and 2

ASSOCIATE ED ITOR CI.\L 1)1,\ L\\1\1 WOOD

ASSISTANT EDITORS RO'>E\I.\R \' , \1),\\1',

P \ I RI( I\ B1-: 1H.CK \ \' !•: !1,1·. R'>I I El \I ER

CO TENTS

PUBLICATIONS ASSISTANTS ROIH RI P.\Rld·'. R I I I

4

.J L I)\' SPO\.~U R

From Esprit de Corps to Joie de Vivre AU:X,\NDRA GILL.EN

DESIGNER

B11.1. \ ' \'- N1\1111-c.1, , ASSISTANT DESIGNER

20 Red Maroons

Ti· D G11111~

ROBERT CO\ 'EN

PHOTOGRAPHY JOii\. ,\! IH R\O\.

J \\ CR \\\'FORD

38 The University and the City

Co p" ig ht 199'.! h1 the

0.\:'\IEL MEYER

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Chicago. 11 . liOli I I I~'>\. 11272-H :> Ill

56

Unwelcome Neighbors STE\\'. \RT \\'INGER

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Footnott'd m,mu . , n ipi.... o f the ar11<.le" appe,111n g i11 thi-. i,,ue ..n e cl\ailablc fi o m the ( :hit.ago 11 i"ltorical '>ociet~".., l'nbli, at ion , Olli «·.

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DEPARTMENTS 3

From the Editor

Chicago Historical Society O FFICE RS Philip V,/. Humm e r, Treasurer Richard I-I . eedh a m , Chair \\/ . Pa ul Kra uss, Vice-Chair Philip E. Ke ll ey, Secrelrll)' Ed gar D. J a nno tta, Vice-Chair Phili p D. Block Ill , h mnerliate Past Chair Ell sworth I-I . Brown, President and Director T RUSTEES Lero ne Ben n ett, .Jr. Philip D . Bl ock III La ure nce Boo th C ha rl es T. Brumbac k Mi che ll e L. Co llin s Stewa rt S. Dixo n M ich ael H . Ebn er Sharo n G ist G illi a m Mrs. Dun ca n Y. H ender~o n Philip\\'. Humm er Ri cha rd M. J a ITec Ed ga r D . J a nno tta Philip E. Ke ll ey

\V . Pa ul Kra uss Freel A. Kre h b ie l R. Ede n Ma nin Robert lee rs Mrs. Newton N. Min ow Richard H . Need ha m Potter Pa lm er Mar garita Pe rez Cord on Segal Ed wa rd Byron Smith , Jr. J a m es R. T ho m pson De m psey .J . Trav is .Jo hn R . Wa lte r

LJ FE T RUSTEES Bowe n Bla ir l\ Irs. Fra nk D . Mayer l rs. Brooks McCormi ck J ohn T. McC ut cheon , Jr .

An dre,'° l\1cNa lly Ill Brya n S. Re id, J r.

Gard ner H . Stern H ONO RARY T RUST EES Ri ch ard M. Da ley, Mayor, Cit_v of Chirngo Ri ch ard A. DeYi n e, Presidmt, Chicago Park Di.1trict T he C hicago H i torical Society i; a privately endowed, independent imtitution de\'Otcd to coll ecting, i11tc1·preting, a nd presenting the 1·ich mu lticu ltura l hi,to1y of Chicago and llli noi,, a, we ll as ~e lected areas of Am e rican h istory, to the publi c through exh ibitiom, program,. research collect ion,, and pub licatiom . It must look to its me mbers and friends for cont inuing financial support. Contributiom to the Society are taxdeductible, a nd appropria te recognition is accorded m,tjor gift,.

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FROM THE EDITOR In the fall of 1990, as part of the preparations for celebrating the University of Chicago's centennial, we offered a graduate seminar on the history of the research university. aturally enough, the University of Chicago stood at its center. Our readings attempted to link broad patterns of philanthropy, administration, pedagogy, research, student culture, and neighborhood relations with episodes and figures who stood out in the Chicago story. We encouraged our students, however, to range as widely as they chose and as widely as the resources of the university's libraries and archives permitted. The three articles in this issue speak specifically to matters of the university's history in ways we think are provocative and illuminating.

The accompanying photographic essay by university archivist Daniel Meyer expands our sense of campus activities and broadens the context within which the events discussed in these articles unfolded.

These articles demonstrate that university history has undergone some changes in the past few years. The celebratory salutes, designed to please institutional alumni, administrators, and supporters, have been replaced by more dispassionate and even critical analyses, many of which move far beyond the classroom and the lecture hall into what were once labeled extracurricular matters. Their purpose is neither to commemorate nor to amuse (the dual aim of some earlier texts) but to examine and decode, in the interest of truth, the actions and evasions that together constitute institutional life.

As these articles suggest, such examinations are not always easy. The University of Chicago's treatment of women on the quadrangles, ideological conflict, and race relations has a complex history. But each of these areas taken in context, as the authors have done, is a step toward the creation of a larger history that is neither accusatory nor apologetic. Almost everyone discussed in these articles attempted to cope with problems as best they could. If, at this distance, we see t~ings differently, it may be that distance directs ourjudgment, rather than the options that appeared open to those living then. Each author has assumed that stance, not because we insisted upon it, but because the university's voluminous archives revealed to them the intricacies of the past. Ably aided by university archivist Daniel Meyer, they were able to explore ground they might not have found on their own. \Ve hope readers will welcome, a we have, the work of these young historians.

1Fl I. 11 \RRIS, PRES I O's .\, D SI l· RI l ,(, l\10R IO'-: PROFt::SSOR OF HI STORY 8 ,\RR\

0. K.\Rl.,

' oIOL\'- \'-I) ED,\ FIU. EIILIW, PROFESSOR OF HISTORY

TIil·. UNI\ERS lll 01· CHIC.\(,()

Gui's/ J~ditnrs

From Esprit de Corps to Joie de Vivre

by Alexandra Gillen

While a distinct women's culture persisted in the early years at the University of Chicago, its tenor changed as the women began to revel in their social freedom.

AfLer Oberlin College began aclmitLing women in ] 837, coeducaLional colleges emerged, mosl ofll'hich were clenominaLional and agricultural and located in Lhe l\lidwesl and West.

Graduates of these insLiLutions most often became farmers, ministers, and Leachers, or wi\·es to Lhese, noL scholar~. \\'hile Lhe East usually offered the besL opportunities for a liberal arts eclucaLion, Lhc construction of' a rigorous coeclucaLional university in Chicago al the encl of the nineteenth century was a boon not only Lo aspiring academics in the l\1idwest, but to women across the nation.

Because coeducation had already become a tradition in the Midll'est, Lhe men appointed by the Baptist Education AssociaLion to structure the Cniversity of Chicago belie\'ed that the institution had to be coeducational to gain public support. The charter promised to "provide. impart and furnish opportunities for all departments of higher education to persons of both sexes on equal terms." The \·agueness of "equal terms" reflecLed Lhe board's ambi\'alence toward coeducation. The uni\·er:,ity's founders saw the possibility of a breakdoll'n in the coeducational system, and Lhe "equal terms" of the charter ll'as a hedge again~t the future.

Indeed, coeclucaLional resoh·e did faller.

During a period 11·hen se\'eral colleges and univers1t1es, among them SLanforcl and Wesleyan, modified their coeducaLion policies because of fears Lhat grO\l'ing numbers of women would displace men and "femini;,e" higher education , the Cni\·ersity of Chicago implemented, in 1902, a program of segTegaLion. During the firsL two years of college, men and women would be taught the same subjects in separate classrooms. Proponents of the program worried that \\'Omen O\'erwhelmecl men academically in coeducational en\'ironments. or belie\·ed that \\'Omen and men , especially ..j.

when )'Ollng, learn better when apan. Others thought that the need for nell' ll'Omen's facilities ll'Ould mean new financial contributions to the university. The segregation program, holl'ever, provoked public outrage-f'rom both traditionalists , who believed that \\'Omen ll'ere a conse1-vati\'e force and that a coeducational e,wironment produced responsible , famil\'-oriented men , and from radicals, who belie;ed that coeducation ll'aS a condition for social equality.

The effect· of institutional segregation on women continue to interest tho~c who believe that coeducation is key to 'locial equality. But conditions of' equality are elusi\ e . Some all11ome11 institutions ll'ere rounded in the belief' that \\'Omen should immerse thcmselH·~ in a culture that Yalues and encollrages their achic\·emenh. :-\t the Cni\ er-,ity of Chicago, Dean of'\\'omen l\1arion ralbot tried to roster such a culture for the university\ women. The effects of' this intentional cultural segregation complicate the idea that either segregation or coeducation i-., inherently beneficial to women .

The ll'ork of ~larion ralboL, the changing \\'Omen\ culture ~he presided mer, and the llses of' 11omen\ building-. at the uni\ersit) dramati;e thi~ problem. ln l\la)' l892 President \\'illiam Rainey I larper addressed the Chicago Woman's Club on "\\'omen and the l..;ni\'(?rsitr.'' I le took the opportunity to coax the club matrom into raising f'unds for the comf'ort of' upcoming generations of' female scholar-,. Whether they ll'ere read) to do so ll'ithout Harper\ goading is unclear. The club amassed enough money to build three 11·omen·s dormitories, Beecher, Kelly, and Fo ter halls, b)· l893. The fourth , 1/nandm (;ii/I'll i.1 a graduo/1' .1/udmt i11 hi.,tm)' at !ht'

L'11i, enity of C:hirngo .

1

,, ,. / Marion Talbot, ''f-"C· "' · · 1892, the year the new university opened. In guiding her students in irreproachable behavior, Talbot sought to ensure women's continued welcome at the university.

- ~- -----<-- --·-·----

Chicago Hist01~y, Spring and S11111111er 1992

ll'illiam Rainey Har/JI'!", th('[ir.,t /He.,idenl of the 1111ii 11'1 :\ily, 1111daled. ll'hile lfmjJer 1'11t01m1gnl //,1• Chirngo ll'0111an's Club to mise(i111ds for women:, dor111itorie.1 in 1892, he later opened !ht• door/or .,el!Jeg11tl'd i11.1 /rnctio11, malling hi.1 ro111111it111e11I to toed11calio11 unclear.

tructure in the planned architectural unit, Green Hall, \\'as not built until 1898 1d1 e n a single contributor donated the fi.,nds.

Meanwhile, the University of Chicago opened in the fall of 1892. Hyde Park hotels housed the first studenLs; the Hotel Beatrice, built to sen·e Columbian Exposition \'isitors the follo\\'ing spring, hou ·eel \\'Omen students.

There Alice Freeman Palmer, a former \\'ellesley College president, as profes or of history and dean of \\·o men, and her protege, i\farion Talbot, began to o,·ersee the integration of women into the research uni\'ersity.

Palmer and Talbot, ll'ho would replace Palmer as dean of women in the graduate school and college and \\'ho ll'Orked most closely \\'ith the sLUdents, considered the organization of \\'Omen 's social and domestic life e sential to the success or the coeducation experiment. The students " ·ould go\'ern their Oll'n li\'e in the residence halls, "'hich operated autonomously under head residents· upervision . The coeducational university, with its lack of physical boundaries between the 6

sexes, had to rely on students' seme of sexual decorum. Many of those \\'ho opposecl coeducation belie\'ecl that \\'Omen \\'Ould lead men astray, \\'hile rnanr proponents or the system hoped that women would inspire decorous behm·ior in rnen. To satisl)' both factions, the remale scholars had to bow to the administration's expectation that their behm·ior would deterrnine men 's . In doing o, they recreated the atrno.,phere of all-ll'ornen colleges where men ll'ere treated as formal gue.,ts. By establishing 'ltrict beha\'ioral patterns for themselves, the uni,·ersity ,,·orncn controlled their appearance, and, to some extent, their welcome at the university .

The university took advantage of the way women behaved and advertised thal ils fe male students lived in houses that gave them Lhe "security combined with freedom" they enjoyed al home and that enabled them to "lead and gi,·e character Lo the social Ii re of the entire University." This was an appeal to the parents of both men and women who favored coeclucaLion because of women's purported

fa/Jril de Cm/Js

ability to tame men. Women 's intellectual privileges were tied to their soc ial maturity .

To compete with the cheaper rates and unrestricted atmosphere of local hotels and boarding houses, the university had to capitalize on its capacity to be both an intellectual haven and a comfortab le home for women. "\Ve must make our halls so attractive that none of the girls will think of leaving-and to do that we must have something more material than harmony of spirit and hygienic rood," wrote a frustrated head resident. But there was bound to be discontent among women who, whi le trying their intellectual wings, were forced to nest under the watch of a subst itute parent. Some women were prevented from leaving the residence halls only because their parents wanted their daughters under superv ision.

At an early point Talbot realized the importance of controlling unrest. By the fall of 1894 she insisted that "grumb lers" be allowed to leave the residence halls in order to preserve the tight community and integrity of her operation. She led women in irreproachable behavior, and the exemp la ry academic record that the students comp iled showed that they could be model students and compete with men intellectually. But the inspecting eye on co ll ege women was never averted; both the administration and the public would continue toquestion their seriousness and intellecwal abi lity.

Alice Palmer and Marion Talbot tried to inruse women 's buildings with a cu lture distinct from the larger university whole. They hoped that the residence halls ' cu lture would bolster remale students in their self-esteem and confidence and hence in their achievement and quest for uni\·ersity recognition. \\'hether they would achieve the equality ll'ith men that they were promised remained to be seen, for shortly after the turn of the century Palmer and Talbot's strategy of cultural segregation \,·ould be compounded by educational segregation.

In December 190 I President Harper requested that the faculty advise the uni\·ersity trustees ll'hether or not to accept a gift of I million or 1.5 million , ll'hich \\'Ou ld be used to build, on a separate block of land, dormitorie~, a gymnasium, a club house, an as~embly hall, recitation halls, and laboratories to be u~ed exclusively f'or ll'0men. In essence,

the proposal asked the faculty to consider a modification of coeducational practices in the Junior Co ll ege.

Opposition to coeducation had in fact been groll'ing. Cobb Hall , the general classroom building, had become uncomfortably croll'ded with student and faculty. For the men \\'ho did not accept coeducation, the '•nining" in the halls of Cobb made the jo tling through the crowds unendurable. They wanted more space, and many wanted that space to be gender-segregated. The issue of the monetary gift, however, was muddied for many by the disturbing link between university policy and a gift promise. Whether the money in fact existed became a matter of debate , and some supported separate instruction on the hope of ga inin g more facilities for the university.

On June 25, 1902, the senior professoriat approved the recommendation that "in the development of Junior College instruction provision be made as far as possible for separate instruction for men and women." Among the prejudices against female students were assertions of the failure of the coeducation endeavor-the failure of men and women to learn together. (Talbot and others tried to point out that the men failed far more frequently than the women.) For many reasons, includin g space, dislike, and fear, the issues of separa te living arrangements and separate instruction merged.

Feeling betrayed b)' Harper, who had led her to believe that the coeducation program was immutable, Talbot wrote , "my vote is in the negative if the proposition means separate instruction." Believing that the public cou ld never be co1winced that Lhe ll'Ornen were equal if they received separate education, she denounced segregated instruction. Although Talbot was not comp lete ly opposed to more segregated li vin g space, she was suspic ious of Harper's different sets of priorities for men and ror ll'Omen in his plan for the buildings: First in the men's quad would be classrooms, first in the \\'Omen 's ll'Ould be residences. ;\!any of the women instructors and students at Chicago, including Marion Talbot, had either taken or taught undergraduate courses at \\'Omen's col leges; they ll'ere not convinced of the superiority of sex-segregated 7

Chicago Histo ry, Spring and Summer 1992 in sLitutions. A writer ror Th e Fonon, a p opul ar magaz in e, summ a ri zed Lh e phe nome no n: "They say tha t if you wa nt Lo find th e ve ry h otbed of co-edu caLi o na l e nthu siasm , go to Lh e fac ulLi es o f th e wo me n 's co ll eges!" \\'o me n 's co lleges Loday justify th emse lves noLas bastio ns of fe minin e vinu e but a places wh ere wo me n run cLi o n independe ml y, co ncenLra Ling o n th eir own developm ent, not o n men.

T hi s idea, however, was noL preva le nt in 1902.

Indeed , acad e mi c wo me n a fter Lh e LUrn of th e ce ntury see med to fea r es Lran gem e nt fro m the family, from a "coedu ca ti o na l" society. These wo men did not necessarily bl a me th e mse lves fo r Lh e wea ke nin g o r th e famil y-a lth ou g h ma ny criti cs did- but Lh er did see th emse lves as uniqu e!)· positi o ned to he lp save iL. Whil e T albot arg ued fo r co- in structi on , she was wo rkin g o n pl an s ro r a d e pa rtm e nt o f house hold admini sLra Li o n, whi ch wo uld in clud e " th eore ti ca l cour e d ea lin g with the econ o mic, lega l, socio logica l, sa nitary, di eteti c, and aest he ti c interes ts o f Lh e ho use ho ld ."

Ta lbo t's pla n was a sophi sti ca Led app roac h to wha t was beco min g kn own as muni cipa l ho use kee pin g. H e r cl epa nm e nt would foc u on "th ose industri a l a nd gove rnm en tal insti tutio ns through whose agency th e ho useh older is enabl ed to care more e rrective ly fo r her fa mil y and ho use hold ." T h e d e pa rtm e nt wo uld g round its stud e nts in th eo ry so th at th ey co uld make r esp o nsible a nd ratio na l cho ices when th ey advoca Le d po li cies a ffec tin g sa nita tion and qu a liLy co ntro l. Am o ng Ta lbo L's specific reaso ns fo r urgin g th e imm edia Le in stituti o n of the n e" ' de pa rLrn e nt was a comm o n contemp o ra rr observa Li o n th a t whil e me n wer e drawn to co mm e rce a nd wo m e n to industry, the famil y, a nd co nseque ntly soc ie Ly, was declinin g. Pro fess io na l inte rvemio n seem ed essenti al.

Alth oug h th e ho me economi sls in sisted tha L th e ir courses were fo r boLh me n a nd wo me n a nd in co rp o ra te d tra diLi o na l m en 's courses, such as chemi stry a nd p oli Lical sc ience, in th eir curri cula, they see m ed to recogni ze that th e The Home Eco110111ics and Household Arts Club, 1916.

While Talbot'.~ original plan for the De/Jartment of Household Administration called for theoretical .1tudies, b_y 19 I 6 the focus had narrowed to food, clothing. and shelter.

8

co ur es wo uld n ol a lter me n 's and wo me n 's roles in fa mil y a nd socic t)'. TalboL herse lr was awa re Lha l her d e part me nt mi g ht fos ter wome n's volunLary segrega Li o n in Lh e aca demi c world , for she wro te I Iarper wh e n he had fi na ll y g ive n h er the g reen li g ht fo r he r p roj ect: "l have not pushed my own spec ia l lin e o r wo rk [o n Lhe unive rsity as a wh o le] beca use I

E.sjJril de rmJJS knew it would appea l chiefly to women. There is a growin g demand for it, however, which we ought to meet, if not lead." vVhi le society bemoaned the fate of the fami ly, the female half, at least in the academic world, assumed the burden of rescuing the nation's domestic tability. Because male scho lars resisted being included in dome tic science programs, these

women risked academic isolation. But in doing so, they won the approval of types like President Harry Pratt Judson, Harper's successor, who was not an admirer of the career \\'Oman and who be li eved that "every woman ought to be the head of a household of her O\\'n."

Ironically, the organization in which Talbot had taken great part, the Association of Colle-

9

Chicago Hist01:v, Spring and Sw111ner 1992

giate Alumnae, resolved in 1909 that '·home economics as such has no place in a college course [or \\'Omen." The association promoted the value of liberal arts training in co ll ege while admitt ing the \\'Orth o[ a "practical course" afrer co ll ege, before ll'Omen married.

Talbot and her associates, howeYer, em·isionecl more than premarital training; they sought Lo integrate academic \\'Ork on domestic problems and social anion. Women at all-female in stituti ons probably [eared that if they contributed to the professionalization of"ll'omen's work, " their in stitutions \\'Ould lose recognition as serious intellectual training grounds.

While Talbot was estab lishing a department doomed to be segregated from the main current of th e university because of sexua l stereotypes, the policy of segregated instruction \\'a itself disso!Ying. In 1905 the Junior Col lege had been reorganized (a tllO\'e lo the Oxford sy tern), distributing the undergraduates into e ight colleges, one each for men and women 10

in arts, literaLUre, philosophy, and science.

After initially ll'Orking \\'ell, the plan folterecl because of the inefficiency of duplicating cla~scs and because of the clifliculty in classil)·ing some subjects. Segregation faltered, Loo, '\d1ene\·er a Junicw College student \\'a~ perrniLLed to take an ach anced cour c in a coeducational classroorn or a department fcn,ncl it difficult or undesirable to offer Junior College courses in tll'o, segregated sectiom."

There \\'as no legislative encl to segregated instruction; iL died quietly and gradually.

In 1904 some \\'Olllen student~ al Cornell Universit)' Lolcl a Yisitor that coeducation rcSLrinecl college life , that one of the 1110s1 important features of college for \\'omen \\'as "the free intercourse of girls with girls-the fun, in fact.'' Asked ll'h)', the students replied: '·Because so many of the things LhaL girls in girls' colleges do for pure fun. we can 't do here " for "they would look so undignified." These women missed the freedom LO conclucL what

Es/Jrit de COI /Js they consid ered inn oce nt soc ia l a ffairs, whi ch th ey feared 111ig ht be tho ught rrivolous, or even pe rve rse. T he ir di stinct culture was, th e refore, Lo be co ncealed fo r th e good of the ove ra ll com munity. Th a t wo me n made thi s sacrificewith a few la pses-indica tes th e ir d es ire to be pa rt o f th e "fa111ily" o f ma in strea m socie ty.

At th e Uni ve rsity o f C hi cago, wo me n e ngao·e cl in a few ac tiviti es " for fun. " O n class ni g hts in th e dinin g roo ms, eac h stud ent d o nn ed he r appropri a te class c0s tum e a nd eac h class stra in ed to sin g th e loudes t so ng .

Oth e r practi ces were m ore compli cated. T he wo me n in Fos te r H all he ld a pro me nad e th at was mea nt to " p ro mo te good fee lin g a m o ng th e fo ur ha ll s." Ta kin g the pa rt o f me n, each Fos te r re ide nt se nt a n invita ti o n to a girl fro m a no th e r ha ll. On th e cl ay o f th e dan ce, they se nt th e ir el ates fl owe rs a nd "a l th e p ro p er ho ur ca ll ed fo r Lh e111 in as ma nni sh shirtwa ists as Lth ey] had , a nd hi g h lin e n collars a nd dark Li es a nd skirts." T he " ladies" we re a ppropria te ly dressed in evenin g gowns. Whil e thi s ritua l invo k ed wo men o nly, it was bound ed by he te rosex ua l practi ces and custo ms.

Fe111a le d a nces a nd cru shes o n, o r in fa tu ati o ns with , o th er wo m e n we re co mm o n at wo me n's co ll eges. Initia ll y d ee med tr ivia l, the wo me n 's be h,-l\"i o r eve ntu all y ca used ma ny to wo rry abo ut th e hea lthfuln e ·s ofw o111e n's in stituti o ns a nd to supp o rt coedu ca ti o n. Tha t wo me n a l th e U niver sity o f Chi cago e ngaged

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a

0/1/1//\ile obm•e, 111 !hi' prii'flly of then rPWll'IICI' halls, 11 10111e11 could hm1e ji111 ,l'itho11/ fi'am1g being 11'1'11 os w11lig111jiNI, 01 1'1'1' >1 /Nn•1 r.11' . , lbm •e 011d to/1 right .

1111idrntijinf 1t11dc11t1, 19/6 011d /892.

1

in simil a r ritu a ls indi ca tes th e co hes ive ness of th e se pa ra te culture fos te red by T a lbo t. The cla nger was, howe,·er, that Lhe wo me n wo uld a tte mp t to tra nslate their fe ma le ritua ls into th e la rger he te rosexual co111munity.

A.ncl th ey did . Wo me n enj oyed mi xedsex soc ia l life; a fter the turn of th e ce ntury, [e111 a le associa ti o ns parall e lin g fra te rnit ies beca me in creas in gly po pul ar . Despite stude nt demand , T a lbo t stood firml y aga in st so ro riti es, re pea tin g to H arper he r belie f th at th ey were detrim e nta l to wome n's cohesivenes , while ad mittin g that th e ir a ppeal was growin g a mo ng uni versit)' wo 111 e n. Sh e kn ew th a t as women moved away fro m restraint and deco rum , they und e rmin ed the base fro m whi ch th ey ha d bee n integra ted as equa l scho la rs in the co mmunity. T albo t was a fraid tha t th e in creasingl y ex ubera nt mi xed -sex soc ia l ac tivities wo uld contri bute to pe rce pti o ns th at wom e n we nt to co ll ege fo r li.m and fo r mates and no t fo r scho lars hip. Bu t while T a lbo t imagined herself as a kni g ht-e rra nt fi g htin g fo r her tudencs, the stude nts ofte n res isted he lp .

Ta lbot d rea d ed a nr thin g tha t de-e rn p hasi1ed \\'Orn e n's po iti on of equa li t)· a nd di g nity.

In 190-1: she ll'as info rmed Lh a t she ll'as pa rt o f 11

Chicago HistOI)', S/Jring and Swnmer 1992

Top and abol'e, Marion Talbot hoj1ed that a distinct women's culture at the w1h1e1:1ity u1011ld fo.1ter 11•omen '1 accomplislmzenls, thu.1 enhancing theirfutures al the university. Opposite. w1iversity women JJ/aying /zocliey, I 909. l Vo men maintained that they did less for the university in athletics only.

12

a co mmittee fo rm ed LO a ppo int " re prese ntative wo me n stude nts to act in olTicia l ca pacity a t the co rning Co nvoca ti o n recepti o n o r poss ibly th e Co1woca tio n it e lr." O ve rco min g th e notio n th at \H) me n "could ha rdl y act with di g nity a l th e Convoca ti o n itse lf o r ta ke pa rt in th e process io n ," th e a dmini stra ti o n had cl ec icl ecl th a t in stead of usin g pa id ma le ushe r~. the)' wo ul d use fe ma le ~tud e nts. Cs in g ma le Slll d ents o r pay in g \1·o rn cn was no t consid er ed .

Ta lbot did no t apprO\·e or the usherin g pl a n, alth oug h it was d eemed parti cul arly a pp ro pria te sin ce J ane Add a ms was to be the orato r .

T he adm ini stra ti o n chall e nged Talbo t's notio n o f th e use of th e fe ma le com m unity whe n H a rpe r in sisted th a t, as th e wo me n stud e nts had suggested, Ta lbo t in troduce J a ne Adda ms.

T a lbo t q ues ti o ned th e co nsi te ncy o r th e wom e n's phil osop hy: "Th e wo me n . .. think with unanimity that the best way to do ho nor to Mi ss Add am s is to trea t he r as if she we re a ma n of di stin ctio n. Whe th e r th e ir sugges ti o n tha t l should introduce he r is in accord with

fa/Jrit df Corps th e ir genera l proposition seems to me doubtful! " Harper expressed some frustration with the runaround : "We do not treat al l men of distinction a like. Every man that comes here represents somethin g different. ... T hi s, it seems, is true or Miss Addams. I agree most emphatica ll y with the recommendation of the women that you shou ld introduce Miss Addams. " Marion Talbot was grapp lin g with an issue that haunts women's efforts even today. How do women show support for one another without reinforcing the notion or a separate realm of women 's work? Ta lbot adm ired Jane Addams , but she did not want her fame to be identifi ed with the female community exclusively, alth ough it was largely the efforts of that community that made the Hull-House project possible. It may seem odd that the clean of women, who had laboriously constructed a coherent female env ironm ent, objected to associating Jane Addams with that same cu lture . But Ta lbot did not try to shape women 's cu lture at the univer ity toward the goa l or creating an insular female community. Hoping t hat through the professionalization of their work women would be welcomed as important players in public life, Dean Talbot marked a fine lin e for her and her fo ll owers to walk. While women must act as women, they must be as respected as men. Her department of household administration was a gamble, for in embracing a course of study that would appea l to popular tastes and prejudices, she risked the academic isolation of women.

Whether Marion Talbot' students realized their dean 's gamb le is impossible to tell. But they were not ashamed of their culture, nor of

their dean, however much they might disagree with her. ff they fai led to appreciate Talbot's quandary over Jane Addam , there was areaon : It was becoming clear that the uni\'ersit)' would not oust its women. While they had been academ ica ll y segregated, they had not been e limin ated or reduced in number as women had been at Wesleyan and Stanford , and their segregation had not lasted. The year 1902 marks the beginning of a stage in ach ieving this security and hence a new stage in the development of a women 's culture at the U nivers ity of Chicago. As the female students moved into the twentieth century, they ceased being ovenvhe lmingly concerned with maintaining their membership in the institution.

They cou ld explore other uses for their culture. Some found that women's groups provided a basis for socia l contact with men , and these women began to shed Talbot's standards of public decorum and mingle unrestrainedly with men.

Perhaps the assurance of university privileges embo ldened some women to add to Talbot's demands for better treatment. In 1912 the Gymnasium Committee or the Alumn ae C lub indi cted the inadequacy of women's faciliti es and the implication that the adm inistration did not recognize its women as full university citi zens: " It [the word temporary] is applied so often in connection with us and our possessions that one has to conclude that the women are but temporary too. " Conclud ing that the women did less than the men only in athletics, but that they compensated for this by being drawn to the university without ad vertising, the Un iversity of Ch icago magazine article offered a crude bit of accounting and demanded that the university keep the implicit covenant that ex isted bt>l:\veen it and its female students: If t he women maintained the standards of the academy, the uni\'ers ity would protect their right to an equal education.

A year later, President J uclson's wife independently wrote .t\Ir. La Verne Noyes, the grieving husband of her deceased friend, uggesting that a women's building would be a beautiful memorial to his wife. Noyes agreed, and the tru ' tees accepted the three-hunclreclthousand-clollar gift for a women's social center and gymna ·ium in a.June 4, 1913, resolution.

13

Chicago Ilisto1)', Spring and Summer 1992 Shepley, Rutan, and Coolidge were appointed architects, and a presidential commission of university women studied their plans; tentative sketches were presented for the comments of male students, faculty, and administrators.

Construction or the building began in 1915.

The advisory committee for the selection or furniture , composed or six faculty women and chaired b)' Marion Talbot, determined to use their seventy-two-thousand-dollar budget to control the hall's interior appearance, as they could not shape the exterior. They worked at a time when interior decoration was being professionalized-and taken over b)' men.

Their resistance to thi trend indicates a desire that Ida Noyes reOect the work of women and thus inspire women students to mainta in a strong position in the academic and professional worlds.

The building was a memorial to a love. The metal box embedded in the hall's cornerstone, laid on April 17, 1915, contained a letter fi·orn La Verne Noyes to his deceased wife, describing the monument as "an ideal Gothic structure." He confided to her a flattering passage in the trustees· resolution accepting the gift of the hall: The board was gratified that the universit:y's quadrangles now commemorated "the name of a graciou and gifted woman whose rare qualities are well worthy of admiration and emulation by successiYe generations of our young women." The dedication masque for Ida Noyes Hall a year later included a performance of A Persian Romance, celebrating a fairy-tale courtship; the only statement of women's status as scholars was the opening procession of female students and alumnae, numbering nine hundred, who sang the ;J/ma Mater to the four thousand spectators.

This strain of romance allowed those outside the female culture to interpret the building as a generator of the conservative qualities associated with women. When President Judon received the keys to Ida Noyes Hall on June 5, 1916, he prophesied that the beauty and comfort or the building would inspire women with "higher standards of life" that would enable them to "make homes worthy of the dignity, the 10\·e, and the earnestness without which an American home is not a home at all ." President Judson extolled the duty of edu14

Ab01 1P, Ida Noyes Ha{{ under rn111/rn1tio11, I 915. O/J/Jo.1ift' bl'low, loyi11i the ronin.1/011efhr Ida Noye.1 Hall, f1/Jri{ 191 5. .-Jt the cne111011y, Talbol al/11dPd to !he role 11•m11e11 u1011ld /Jlay i11 !he "uj,l1111ldi11g of !he lll'W m 1iliwllo11."

cated women to make comfortable homes-a function he believed the depart mcnt or household administration should ensure. l\larion Talbot was again on her guard. Although pi,·otal in the home economics movement, Talbot, in her speech at the cornerstone ceremon~·, spoke of ,romen 's futures as something more ublime than the kitchen: "Tolerance, sympathy, kindness, the generou, word, and the helpful act, all typical of the women we commemoralc, will be the contribution or the women who go lortl1 from Ida 1 oyes Hall to take part in the upbuilding of the new civilization which is to come." That ,,·o men could use their "s pecial" qualities to affect society was the point or one branch of uffragists.

Somewhat traditional in it~ means, this mO\'ement sought public influence for women, which was then radical.

Marion Talbot's vision of women contributing to the growth of civilization took concrete form on April 16, 1917, when she asked the

Esprit de CoijJs university's female students to take a pledge of "loyal service" through tasks to be performed "as if [the pledgee] were formally en li sted for military service. " The pledge document, dedicated to a new world order, listed both mundane measures, such as conserving food and clothing, and idealistic vows, such as promotin g international sympathy and study in g the propo als for a Society of 1ations. The diversity of these measures reflected the sprawl of the developing home-economics movement.

The price of the domestic science movement's popularity in 1917 was an in creasing interest in the practical side of home economics, which furthered the academic isolation of women. That Ta lbot conferred with others about how to eliminate ma le attendance at a serie of lectures on ado lescence, sex, prostitution, eugenics, and marriage signa led this trend. The women's co ll eges, some of which had vehemently rejected courses in home economics because they reinforced restrictive notions of femaleness, began to insti-

15

Chicago His/en)', Spring an d Swmner 1992

Above, .fumiture i11 Ida Noyes Hall. Below. Jr/a Noy1'.1 Hall, 1928. O/Jjlosite, the hall'., "111wque o.fyouth" 11111ml.1. O/JjJosite right, this architectural detail o.f Ida Noy's Ila/I slw1us a girl l'l'Odi11g llf\l lo a bo.\ o/d1ocolate1, 011 image that de/late, 11'0111en 's .1/0/11.1 as sniou.1 scholal'.1.

16

tute the m in th eir curri cula to fu lfi ll student de ma nd . Th e resu ltin g studi es would con ce ntra te o n food , clOLhing, a nd she lte r. It was th e cl aim s to a rt, interi o r deco ra tin g, and civic innu e nce, howeve r, that ga ve wo me n cultura l leverage. Wh en th ose cla ims we re ignored , th e moveme nt and its ro ll owe rs los t presti ge. This ha pp e ned , in part, throug h th e move me nt ' atte mpt to reac h all wo me n a nd no t ju st th e edu ca ted elite.

Another obstacle, a genera ti on gap, also precluded the fi.il l rea lizati on o r th e sublime work o f wome n tha t T albot had e nvi sioned. The new genera tion of wo me n tude nts lacked th e restraint a nd decorum tha t was so necessary to th e earli er ge ne rati o n's re puta ti on as seri ous studen ts. T heir acti ons we re de ta iled in Professor Donald Robertso n's outraged le tter to the dea n of women, which he co mposed after observin g a da nce a t th e Rey nold ' Club: " T a m so rry to say I saw five youn g wome n lead e mbarrassed me n to th e south e ncl of the seco nd fl oor ror th e purpose of teac hin g th e m new ste ps. T hi s see ms to ve rif)· the un gall a nt but fra nk sta tement of so me of th e youn g me n th at

&pril de Corps

the girls have it in their power to stop the whole thing. " After twenty years, the uni\·ersity's women were still blamed for social disruptions.

Whi le generations of collegiate men had not been scholars at heart, this type of female student was just beginning to emerge, for the luxury of auending university without a passion for learning was new to 11·omen. The notion that to be accepted women's beha\'ior must be exceptional sur\'i\·ed among some, and members of the faculty and administration, such as Robertson, depended on women's presence to temper men 's unruly behavior. Women were divided on the notion of propriety. This was not a class split, for working-class girls were aping the manners of girls from wealth}· families. The diflerence was among women who maintained the tradition of beha,·ior established by Talbot and those who were prototypical flappers. One of the justilications of coeducation-that women would bring morality to the college em·ironment-was being tested.

Members of an older generation, such as Marion Talbot, envisioned the female communit)' as a source of rejm·enate energr for the 11·orld and the home economics moYement as a meam or channeling that energ·y; howeYer, narrcmer idea~ or the proper breadth of 11·0mcn \ effort:,, hence of the mm e ment\ ~cope, pre\'ailed. By 1916 women ,,ere permanent feature~ or the academic land~cape. but although ~omc ~till fought for knowledge side b)' side 11·ith their male peers, many continued

Lo pursue the traditional goa ls from wh ich their intellectual liberation h::i.d upposed ly released them. Young women, intrigued by the changing social atmosphere, had le s time, energy, and inclination to break academic barriers in the wake of their collegiate predecessors. These female students were glad LO call Ida Noyes Hall "home." ,\!though a distinct female community persisted from the early days in the Hotel Beatrice to the opening of Ida Noyes Hall, this does not mean that women's attitudes toward their membership in the institution remained constant. As 17

Chiwgo J-Jislory, Spring and Summer 1992 the first women in a new coeducationa l institution, the residents or the Hotel Beatrice had to win for themsel\'eS a place in the uniYersity's in tellectual and social mainstream. Through their academic success, they pro\'ed their intellect, and Marion Talbot, through her rules and organization, helped them win their place in the uniYersity's socia l world.

In 1902 and later, while women protested their inte ll ectua l segregation, th ey took advantage of the pri\·acy affo rd ed by their quadrangle and enjoyed their cu lture. They danced with other women not because they were not allowed to interact socially with men, but because they sometimes preferred to act without the decorum required in male-female gatherin gs. Engaging in such activities, these women thought of themselves before they thought or the university.

Because a rising set of "feminine" professions was making the educated 1rnrking woman soc ia ll y acceptable, new female scholars were not destined for the margins or soc iety . \\'ith this acceptance, women shed restrictive notions of decorum-they danced with men and with abandon. The tradc-offwa~ that they ceased being intellectual ma\'ericks; they no longer threatened cultural definitions of gender. E\'en Talbot admitted that '"the home is sti ll 'women's sphere' and will always be for most women."

The creation of Id a Noyes Hall acknowledged women's permanent place on campw,.

But even as women \1·011 \'isibility and acceptance in public life, the year bet\1·een I 892 and 191 6 marked a change. l\larion Talbot and h er associates expected their students to haYe an impact on Ci \·ili,ation. By l 916, howeYer, women students did not object to being told that Ida Noyes Hall 1rnu lcl help them become superior homemakers. What happened to the determination-the es/nit de rorps-or the resident the Hotel Beatrice, who had hoped to wrest intellectual achieYernent from men? The enforced coherent culture or the pioneering generations had been transformed by the prewar college women into a force f<>r social freedom-forjoie de vivre.

Wou ld rigorous in stitutional segregation h aYe compelled women to f"unher the fernini t amb ition s of their predecessors? A separate fe-

or

18

male culture alone was n ot e n o ug h to inspire radicalism. While it helped women appropriate space in the academy, it was later used to channe l their acti \·ities into th e larger university culLUre.

For Further Reading For a discussion or holl' women\ higher educati o n changed bctll'ecn the Victorian and modern eras, see Lynn Cordon, Gl'llril'I" a11d llighl'I" Eduration in thr' Pmgre.1.1ive Era ( CII' I la,·en: Yale Univcrsit)' Press, 1990). I lelen Lcfl...m, ill I lonm it!'s ,,J/llla l\later: Dl'sign (I/Id l:xjJl'J"il'IICI' ill lhe ll'Ollll'li's Collegesfimn n,1,ir Ni111,fee11th-Cr•11/111·y Bl'gi1111i11g1 lo the 1930.1 ( ew York: Knopf', 198..J) treats, among other ,ubjects, the form, loYe and ritual took 011 a ll -fema le campuses.

Barbara Solomon , /11 the Co111J1a11y o/ l~rlumted 11'0111e11 (1 C:'\\ 1-fa,·en: Yale University, 1985), ofTers a histo1y of higher education in America and exp lo res its paradoxes. For l\ larion Ta lbot\ ,·ision or life on the L' niversit1 or Chicago campu, and the education or \\'Omen , sec her /\lore Tha11 /,ore: Re111i11i.1cencP.1 of i\lario11 Talbot (Chicago: The L niversity of Chicago Pres,, 1936) and Thi' lfrl11rnlio11 of" I I '0111e11 (Chicago: rl1e t...: niYersit~ or Chicago Press, 1910). Sec also Harbara ,\. Schreier, Fillill[; /11: Four C:1'11emtio11.1 of College Ufe (Chicago: Chicago I li ,torical Society, 1991) for an examination or f;1shion and student life of°ll'omen in the 189(h and of men and women in the 1920s, 19..JOs, and I %(b. t,ifi> 011 the Q11ad.1: A C:l'llil'll11i11I l'i1'11• of" th1' St11de11t r~\J1t>ril'11CI' at the L'11il'1'n1ty of" Chirngo by Ronald .J. Kim (Chicago: The C nil'er,ity of Chicago l.ibrat"), 1992) offc,·~ a rich I) illustrated ,ie" or student life O\cr one hundred

year,.

1llustrations ,\11 photographs are from The Uni,·ersity or Chicago Library , Department Special Collection~, except the following: I :I and 16. Cl IS Print, and Photographs Collen ion.

or

Oj1J10.1ite, ,\Jario11 Talbot , 1111dated. ll'hile Talbot a11d othen o/her gP11erati1111 i111agi11ed the female cmmmmily as a so11rcl' of reju vmale ene1gy.fo1 thl' world, narrower ideas about women 's J1lacefi11ally pre11ailed.

Red Maroons

by Robert Coven

Robert Hutchins defended academic freedom at the university at a tirne when the nation was less accepting of dissident voices.

On April l 0, 1935, Charles Walgreen, the wea lthy owner of a drugstore chain and guardian uncle to Lucille Norton, an undergraduate at the University of Chicago, wrote Robert Maynard Hutchins, president of the university, that he was removing his niece from the school because he was unwilling "to have her absorb the communistic innuences to wh ich she is insidiously exposed." He concluded his letter to Hutchins with a nonp lussed and rhetorical query: "Why one of our country's leading uni\'ersities, sound and subtantial in the majority of its teachings and activities, with its fine opportunity for teaching and advancing a higher and finer standard of American Citizen hip, should permit e\'en to a limited degree, seditious propaganda under the guise of academic freedom, is something I cannot understand."

In particu lar, Walgreen was upset by political and ethical discussions he had with his niece at the dinner table. He was horrified to hear from her that The Co111111unist Alanifesto, by Karl Marx and Frederich Engels, was required reading in the compulsory freshman social science class taught by Professor Harry Gideonse and that "varying standards of morals" \\ere being offered on marriage, family, and sexuality. One faculty member, Professor Frederick Schuman, had gone so far as to proclaim his belief in "free lo\'e.'' In reply to Walgreen 's accusation, "Luci lle, you are getting to be a communist," his n iece said: "I am not the only one-there are a lot more on campus." \\'algreen responded, "Do you realize that this Robert Coven is a doctoral candidate in histo,y at the University of Chicago.

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JI :.,- ....

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'

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hi April 1935, the Young Communist League sponsored a campuswide strike agai11st war_a'!t, .· t fascism. After the Walgreen investigatio~,•/hfi • ~ university curtailed th.e_activities ?f radjc~l. ~~u~ de11t groups. . · . ,, , . ... . ,_ · . ·. : ~ ·· . · , ' " '°"·•.•A ' ,. •. _,· 1 . f.'

Chicago Histo1y, 5/Hing and Summer 1992 means Lh e abo liti o n of th e fa mily, th e abo li tio n of the church, a nd especiall y d o you reali le it mea ns th e overLhrow o f o ur governm ent?" She repli ed , "Yes, I Lhink I d o; but d oesn' t th e encl e,·er justify the mea ns?" For ma ny, includin g C harl es Wa lg ree n, co mmuni sm \\'as sy no nymous wiLh revo luti on, bl ood shed, and Lh e most d epraved i111 mora liLi es.

In 1935, Lhe U ni" er sity o f Chi cago faced governm e nL inves ti ga Li o ns based o n a ll egations by Wa lg ree n a nd o th ers tha L th e schoo l pro mo ted co mmuni sti c d oc trin e in iLs classroo ms. Faculty a nd stude nts ca me und er suspi cion , but pro fesso rs \\'e re th e p rim a ry La rge r o f th e Wa lgree n inquiry. Hutchin s success full y d efe nded hi s faculLy aga in sL Lh ese attac ks o n th e ground s o f acad emic freed om a nd Lh e reby preserved th e university's re puta tio n. But th e admini strati o n u eel differe nt sta nda rd wh e n a pplyin g thi s sa me ri g ht Lo stude n ts a nd th e ir political organi zati o n . As a result, stud e nL activism a t th e Uni ve r iLy o r C hi cago cha nge d mo re dra matica lly. To full y und e rsta nd t he co nsequ ences o f thi s i,westigatio n , we mu st (irst exa min e it as a chapter o f Lh e larger SLOI")' of pro tes L a nd po liti ca l di sse n t in America n colleges a nd uni versit ies durin g the Lll'e nti e Lh ce ntury.

Amer ica n co ll ege sLU de n ts hm·e bee n p rotesting sin ce H a n ·ard Uni versity, th e coun try's (irst co ll ege, 1\'aS fo unded in 1636. \\'hil e student unres L has re main ed a co n sta nt , iLs focus a nd inten siLy ha\'e not . U n til 1900, \ tu d e nt pro te t focused o n p rosa ic rn allers, such as admini stra ti o ns' res tri cti o n o n und ergrad ua tes' ex tracu rri cul ar activiti es, ha rsh g radin g policie , stri ct acad e mic requirem ents, a nd th e poor qu ality o f coll ege food.

Stude nts' a tte nti on shifted in th e n,·e ntie th century to nati o na l and internatio nal concerns.

U ntil ·w o rld Wa r J, few stud e n ts advocated social cau ses. ,\n equa ll y sma ll num ber espo used pac ifist and radi cal po liti cal id eo log ies . The first natio n\\'ide stude nt po liti cal o rga ni ,a ti o m a ppeared a t thi · tim e. On e o f the fi rst o f th ese orga ni zati o ns, the Intercoll egia te Socia li st Society (ISS), fo unded in 1905 by leading soc ia list in tellectu a ls, in cl ud in g C la re nce Darrow a nd U pton Sinclair, g1·ew to a pea k m embe r hip of 1,3 22 underg radua tes in 19 15, ou t of a to ta l of approxima te ly 4:'5 0,0 00 co ll ege stude nts na-

22

ti o nwide . Before th e e ntry o f th e U nited St.a les into World Wa r I, stud e nts a nd the ge nera l publi c fe lt co nsid e rabl e a ntiwar se ntim e nt. At co ll eges, thi s a nlimilita ri sm too k the fo rm o r protests aga in st milita ry p rogra ms o n ca mpu s, such as th e Reserve Offi ce rs T ra inin g Corp s (ROTC). The pro tes ts eva p o ra ted o nce th e U nited States e nte red th e hostiliti es . Th e ISS, ll'hi ch had take n a sta nd o ppos in g in volveme nt in the co nni ct, suffe red a trem e ndo us declin e in m e mbe rship a nd di sa ppea red as a n e flcctive orga ni za ti o n a fLe r th e war and th e Ru ss ia n Revo luti o n in O cto be r 19 17. A fea r o f th e spread o f Bo lshe\'i sm , co mbin e d with xe noph obi a a nd a traditi o na l Ameri ca n o ppos iti o n LO radica l po liti cal moveme nLs, culmin a ted in a "reel scare" th a t led to th e re press io n of soc ialism nati o nwid e du r in g th e 1920s.

Th e Ru ss ia n Revo luti o n fractu red th e Le ft , a nd radi ca l g roups in th e nited Sta tes and Europ e sp e nt mo re tim e fi g hting with each o th e r ove r id eo logy th a n in act ive pursuit o r socia l cha nge . Stud e nt acti vism a lso d eclin ed in th e 192 0s. The fell' radi ca l stud ent groups tha t survi\'ecl th e post- Wo rld \\'ar I reel sca re shifted the ir attentio n all'ay fro m ca mpmes a nd focuse d o n po li tici1in g la bor. Ca mpu s grou p'> cha nged their na mes to mute th e ir po litics. Socia li st cl u b'> beca me "socia l pro bl e m " o r " libe ra l" cl u bs. Th ese o rga ni Dlli o ns beca me lcs'> ideo logical in na me a nd less cl osely co nn ected to o th er socia li st groups. rhi s a ppare nt so rtc nin g of ti es \1 as clu e, in pa n , to ad mini strati ve re tr ictio ns on stud ent a f1ili a ti o n with ra di ca l orga ni1a ti o ns. Swclc nt po li tica l acti,·ism or th e 1920s had littl e o r no e ffect o n uni\'er'> ities or o n soc ie ty a t large. T he orga ni1at iom th a t did surYi\'e the pe ri od, h c)\\·e\'er , la id the grou ndwork fo r th e he ig ht e ned acti vity tha t wo uld come with th e (,rea t Depress io n .

Fra nklin De la no Rooseve lt's e lectio n in 1932 a nd re-e lect io n in 1936 ma rked a n era o r increased li bera li 111 in ,\m erica-an a llitucl e born e o u t by th e eco no mic res tructurin g po li cies o f the I\ ell' Dea l. Stude nt actiYism in th e 1930s ll'as marked by three m::~o r cha nges: a shift in po li tica l a ttitud es o n the campu s to\\'ard th e Le ft ; th e re-estab li shm e n t of stro ng na ti o na l stude nL o rga nilat io ns ll'ith cl ose ti cs to radi ca l po liti ca l o rga ni1a ti o11 s a nd id eolog ies; a nd a stronger focus o n th e nati o na l a nd

Red /Ila roans

TojJ, C:hm/1,, ll 'a lgrl'l'II (nghl) u•ith 1:;dmrd 81'111'.1, / 939. ll'algl"l'fll 1J11111ed the ll!i11ois senate's ilwe.1tigalion . .~bove, Pro1·1ic Communi,t !\lanifcsto lo his.Jre1l111u111 .1t11de11!.1, which led lo charges that he wa,; indoc/r11111ti11g hi.1 .1 /11r/ml.1 in ro11111111111.1/ irfrolog')'.

fr'.1111 1 I Ion)' C,1d1•01111• m.,ig1ll'II

23

Chicago His/my, 5/Jring and Su111111er 1992

Th e 1933-34 peace slrillf!. During the 1930.1, ,tuden/s · oltitude.1 mirrored the gmnol population '.I antiwar and isolationist sentiments. Oj;posile, .1/udmts /Holes! war andfaci.1111, ,-JjJri{ J 935.

24

Red Maroons

international issues of academic freedom, poverty, economic equity, civil rights, the rise of totalitarianism in Europe, and the maintenance or wor ld peace. A 1933 survey of one thousand students from nine eastern colleges found 50 percent of college students willing to "try socialism," 77 percent believing that politics was a tool of the wealthy, --1-0 percent stating their opposition to the free enterprise y tem, and 13 percent favoring "communism and revolution." With America at the nadir or a seemingly interminable depression, students were understandably pessimistic; 52 percent or these students questioned whether the American economic and political system would survive.

Oppo~ition to this evident shift tmrard liberalism remained strong. Many Americans feared that Roose\'elt's T\'ew Deal wa · the harbinger or Bobhevism, and that colleges harbored the ad\'ance guard of re"olution. Some college admini~trators re trictecl the activities of lcfi-wing student organi/atiom in re~ponse to public fear~ or communist sulwcrsion. They regularly clisrcgarclecl the First J\rncndrnent rights of freedom of assembly. speech, and the

press. Faculty espousing radical phi losophies were denied tenure and forced out or Harvard, Yale, the University of California, and other campuses. Students were denied access to rad ical political organizations; many universities banned the Young Communist League and the Young Peoples' Socialist League, claiming that they were "not solely student groups," but rather under the control of radical elders. Student publication that took an unacceptably radical or even liberal stance were suspended and their editors fired. In many cases repression backfired, gi\'ing free publicity to radical voices and creating martyrs for an otherwise apathetic student body to rally around. The uppression of constitutional rights helped instill in students a political consciousness.

The most important issue facing the world in the micl-1930s was war and peace. Foreign affairs remained the focus of student acti\'ism in the late thirties, despite the ongoing domestic economic crisi of the Great Depression. Student sentiment mirrored the general population's antiwar and isolationist positions.

These attitudes were manifested in the nation25

Chicago Histo,y, Spring and Summer 1992

Above, students hang ll'illiam Ra11doljJh Hew:,/ i11 eflig_,· al a mid-thirtie., J1et1ce strike. The s1'/l.\{//io11ali.llir .1/orie.1 i11 Hearst's 11ews/Jape1:, incited Jean of co1m111111ist actn 1iti1,.1 at th1' 1wi1 1ersi1_,·.

wide peace strikes called for annually in April by the Student League for Industrial Democracy (SUD), beginning in 193-!. Participants took an American \·ersion of the Oxford Pledge, promising to refuse to support "the United States Government in any war it may conduct." The 193-! peace strike involved only about 25,000 students, most of them from New York City-area colleges. By April 1935, however, a number of liberal and religious organizations had joined the more radical SLID and National Student League ( SL) in sponsoring the strike. Their support, along " ·i1 h better planning and more publicit)', brought student participation to 150,000, or 18 percent of the student population.

The 1936 and 193 7 peace strikes were the la t major pacifist actions taken by a student Left that soon declined into factionalism.

These strikes were sponsored by the American Student Union (ASU), which was created by the merger of the NSL and the SLID in 1935.

Although not officially a communist organization, the ASU remained strongly influenced by

26

members 1ba1 had dominated its more radical predecessors. The ASL1-s ponsored strikes were the most successful of all those that took place in the thirties . Approximately (ive hundred I housand studenb pan ici pated in 1936 and one million in 19:37 . The factional in-Lighting among radical group~, however, greatly diminished the effectiveness of nationwide strikes and other peace ac1ivities in the latter part of the decade. \\'hate\·er the internal condition or radical stuclen1 organi1atiom, their mere existence fi·igbtened many :\mericam who believed that intellectuab and the uni\·ersity posed a threat to American society. A~ student activism heightened during I he 19'.Hh, so too did public concern m·er \1·hat ,,as ~een to be the promulgation or radical sub\·ersion by university faculties. 1e1l'spapers rueled these public fears.

The state legislatures in \\'i consin and Illinois re ponded to pressure from the newspapers and created special investigative committees to look into universities' indoctrination of college students into "communism, atheism, and

Red 1\llaroo11.1 other perversions." William Randolph Hearst's Chicago Hera ld-Tribune took the lead in fomenting concern over communist activities at the University of Chicago. The newspaper reported on the existence of radical student organizations, campus appearances by speakers with left-wing associations or beliefs, and the presentation or socialist and communist materials in classroons.

The communist activities reported by the newspapers involved only a small number of University of Chicago students. The university was not a hotbed or radicalism; the active radical student organizations, the Socialist Club and the NSL's Chicago chapter, claimed member hip of less than l percent of a student body of approximately six thousand. In a 1932 strall' poll , the majority of University of Chicago students supported Republican Herbert Hoover. In l 936, Roosevelt received over 55 percent of the vote, while Norman Thomas, the Socialist candidate, and Earl Browder, the Communist candidate, each received under 8 percent. The reality of the university 's moderate politics, however, did not deter the Hearst press from publishing incriminating stories and editorials.

In this atmosphere of fear, Charles Baker, Illinois state senator, sponsored a 1935 resolution calling for an investigation to find out whether "subversive communistic teachings and ideas advocating the violent overthrow of the established form of government of the United States and the State of Illinois have been instilled in the minds of students of certain tax-exempt colleges and uni\'ersities in the State of Illinois. " In 1933, Baker had unsuccessfully sponsored legislation "designed to deprive institutions of their tax exemptions if their professors were guilty of 'radical' utterances." In President Hutchins's report to the university's board of trustees, he portrayed the 1935 re olution as the product or Baker's long-standing animosity toll'ard the university, William Randolph Hearst 's semationali tic headlines, and the anticommunist rm·ings of Eli1abeth Dilling and Nelson I-le\\'itt. Dilling \\'as the author or Red Network, a ,·oluminous and C\'Cr-cxpanding list of alleged communists and communi~t sy mpathi1.ers that included national figures (S uprem e Court Justice Louis

Brandeis, Senator William Borah, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Albert Einstein), as well as Hutchins, Schuman, and Robert Morss Lo,·ett of the University of Chicago. Hewitt's pamphlet, "How 'Reel ' Is the niversil)' of Chicago? A Presentation of Fact Concerning Subversive Activities on the Campus or and Among the Students and Faculty or the University of Chicago," presented a litany of alleged treacherous acts. The success or the 1935 resolution was, according to Hut.chins, the result of the exploitation, by these forces, of a misinformed Charles Walgreen.

Richey V. Graham, senator from Cicero and president pro tempore of the Illinois Senate, led the committee that investigated allegations of subversive teaching by faculty and or the uppression of "patriotic" student groups by the University or Chicago administration. Its goal was to root out all communists from positions held in higher education and thus protect young minds and the nation from the corruption or communism. The committee limited its scrutiny to faculty members; students were addressed only as the innocent victims or their degenerate teachers . Specifically, the committee examined charges that Professor Schuman of the political science department was a communist sympathizer, and that Professor Lovett of the English department was unpatriotic.

A peace strike on campus, April 22, 1937. Some Americans believed that student activists were under the control of their mdirnl elder.1.

27

Chicago Hisl01y, Spring and Swnmer 1992

Above, Professor Robert J\lors.1 Lovell, a /Jacifist, was charged with being 1111/Jatriotic. O/Jpo.1ite, The Daily Maroon addresses !hi' Jl'algreen imw.1tigatio11.

Lovell was the only accused faculty member to fully defend his extreme pacifism and his attendance at meetings of radical students. His antigovernment sentiments were defended by other faculty member and partially excused by the committee as the result of his having lost his son at the Battle of Belleau Wood in World War l.

Most students opposed the charges put forth by Walgreen and others. and many were willing to testify in support of the uni,·ersity.

Hutchins was armed with a list of sixteen potential student witnesses, all top students willing to testify that no subversive indoctrination had taken place. The radical students who agreed to testify, including Lloyd Jame , a communist member of the Uni\'ersity of Chicago chapter of the SL, and Quentin Ogren, an active member of the university's Socialist Club and the on of a socialist candidate for mayor in Rockford, were willing to testify that their University of Chicago education had actually weakened their beliefs in so-

28

cialism. With few exceptions, the investigation united students, faculty, and the administration under a banner of academic freedom.

President Hutchins set the ton e for the university community's response to the committee's charges, basing his defense on the fundamental principles of academic freedom.

For the intellectual community, academic freedom i an essential element of scholarly life and requisite to the preservation of American democracy. In his testimony , l lutchins explained to the commit tee that " the professor is not disfranchised when he takes an academic post," and that faculty must be allowed to "join any church, club, or party, and think, live, worship, and vote as he pleases. " Hutchins tried to make a distinction between professors leading open discussions of radical ideas in the classroom and faculty ad"ocating the violent overthrow of the government, which was illegal. First, he tried to prove that there were no communists on the faculty or in the administration and that no subversive indoctrination took place in the classrooms of the university.

The administration further attempted to cairn public fears by saying that it would never condone subversi,·e behavior. l lutchins, citing existing federal and ~talc sedition laws, testified that while sub\'ersive acti\'ity was nonexi~tent on the Chicago campus, he prorni eel that " the University would ... dismiss any professor [and, by logical extension, any student or admini trator] who, before an appropriate Lribunal , was pro\'ed to have advocated the overthrow of the government by violence." At the conclusion of his prepared statement, I lutchins asked Lhe commiuee to see that ··only madness moves those who in the name of ,\merican liberty I ry 10 ~uppress thought on how that liberty may be preserved-or in the name or Americanism ll)' 10 break clown that system or free education upon which, as Jefferson pointed out, all democracy anmust [sic,] rest." The uni\'ersity\ alumni supported Hutchins. Secretary of the Interior Harold L. Ickes, who received degrees from the University of Chicago in 1897 and 1907, wrote an article for the uni\'ersity's alumni magazine that remarked that all avenue of research must be open to academics in order to insure the ad,·,rncernent of all fields of human endeavor.

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UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO

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The student humor and litera1y magazine, the Phoenix, satirized the IValgreell investigation in it.1 Se/Jte111ber 1936 issue.

At some universities, student /Jublications taking a radical or even liberal stance were susjmided and their editors fl.red.

30

Red Maroons The student press also backed the president, saying LhaL they had " ne,·er ... found a faculty member attempting to imp ose upon students communist beliers." In a May editorial, Lhe Daily Maroon poked run at Walgreen, claiming that a person cou ld see a lot more depraviLy, free love, a nd commun ism in the pages or the magazines so ld in his drugstore cha in than in courses taught at the University or Chicago. In a less humorous vein, Howard Hudson, ed itor of the J\tlaroon, echoed Hutchins on the importance of preserving academic (i-eedom, saying that "with the present economic cond iti ons in the country, it is imperative that the besl minds in the country be all owed to devote their time to find a way out, and that the yout h of the country be give n an opportunity to study present conditions objectively." Students and facu lty alike warned that the repression of radicalism would only breed greater dissent while creating martyrs and publicity for groups that would fade away if left alone. Soapbox, the publication of the university's Socialist Club, a chapter of the SLID, published an open letter to the investigative committee that all eged hypocrisy in the committee's proclamations of democracy while flouting the first amendment.

In the encl, the hearings exonerated the univer iLy, finding on ly Lovett culpable. The committee suggested immediate "honorary" retirement for the literature professor.

Hutchim fought e\'en this mild censure, threatening to resign if Lovett wa removed from the faculty. The m~jority report for the committee, filed b)' senators Graham and James J. Barbour of E\'anston, concluded that there was no compelling ev idence that Uni,·ers ity of Chicago proressors engaged in or promoted any sub\'ersive activities. They wrote that "nothing in the teachings . . . or the school can be held to be ... ad\'ocating the communi t form of go,·ernment as a substitute for the present form of government or the L'niLed States." I fo\\'e\'er, the report did present ways of reducing the contact member or Lhe university community would ha\'e with radical philosophy. Tn their recommendation , the senators called for: elimin ation of the Oxford Oath; ending the policy that allowed comrnuni~ts Lo hold receptions or discussions

on university property; barring faculty from associating with "communist agitators or candidates for office of the Comm uni st party"; and "stricter supervision of stude nt activities" so that "in idi ous ind oclrination of com muni stic theories and disrespect for the home and disloyalty to the government shall not be inst ill ed in the minds of the yout h." Hutchins bad already enacted policies that closely paralle led many of these recommendations in a memorandum circu lated before the committee published its final report. In addition to prohibiting the formation of groups espousing the overthrow of the government, the administration's regulations also barred such organizations the use of university prop erty for meetings, the distribution o r seditious publications, or the display of revolutionary flags or insignia.

Hutchins characterized the impact of the investigation on the university as mild and in most ca es beneficial, telling the board of trustees that: Outside Chicago the criticism of the University was genera ll y ridiculed by the public and the press. The academic world felt that the Un iversity was fighting a battle for a ll higher education . Mr. Walgreen's charges, the attacks of certain newspapers, and the senatorial investigation united students, faculty, and alumni in behalf of the University. The Rosenwa ld Family and Mr. Marshall Field expressed themse lves by making substantia l gifts.

The investigation ironically created a bond of trust and friendship between Walgreen and Hutchins. Soon after the h :::rings concl uded , a contrite Walgreen gave the university $550,000 to estab li sh the C harl es R. Walgreen Foundation for the Study of American Institutions.

Hutchins admitted that there were "undoubted ly some scars left from the battle" and that some potential donors "still felt that there was someth in g questionable about the university."

Although the university and its faculty escaped the scrutiny of the Walgreen investigation with their reputations intact, the impact on student radicalism and activism was not so benign. The administration pressured left- ,, wing student groups while Hutchins was proclaiming the id eals of academic freedom to the 31

Cliirngo His/01)', S/Jring and Summer 1992 \\'al green commiuee. As pan of his testimony, Hutchins declared that "the University does not think it wise to limit recognition lo those societies which represent orthodox views or those held by the University administration. ... a rule limitin g student organizations to conservat ives would make it imperative for students to be radicals ." During the investigation, however, radical activ ity on campus lessened. In part, this may have been vo luntary.

Left-wing organizatio n pledged that they would not engage in any "activiti es or demonstrations which might embarrass the univerity" during the committee hearings. But the univer ity curta il ed other groups' activit ies.

Two radical student organizations. the Ch icago chapter of the NSL and the Socialist Club (t he C hi cago chapter of the SLID) were suspended just three clays before the beginning of the Walgreen invest igation.

T he two organizations, with a comb in ed membership of seventy-five, were "suspended on account of breaking the university rule that student organizations may not go off the quadrangles to appear as university organiza-

tions unless permission has been gra nted."

Hutchins acknowledged the awkwardness of these suspens ions taking place at the same time as the investigation, but said that despite appearances the university was not "retreating in the face of charge aga inst lit].'' A handbill, distributed by the Cont inu ation Comm itteeAll Campus Anti-War Conference, took issue with the apparent discrepancy between administration id ea ls and actions, say ing that while Hutchins bad taken "th e on ly position of academic Freedom that an honest libera l could take, ... the adm inistrat ion's who le defense during the investigation had been an attempt to minimaliLe radicali 111 on campus."

The Chicago chapter of the SL, one of the two banned groups, was more direct in its accusations, say ing that: the campa ign or the U or C against the anti-war movement has all the embe lli shments which are appropriate tO a modern uni1·er,ity like ours. Prog1·es·ive and radical organ i,ations a rc banned. not because or their policie , ((;od forbid!), but because 'good ta,te .' ... There the) 1·iola1e the principle,

or

Students rnnJ jJ/acards m11wu11ci11g their isolationisl beliefs in a Jm1Ce Jx,mde 011 cam/ms, A/Jril 28, I 938. / 11 the /ale 1930.s, foreign affairs remained !he Jocu, ofsludenl aclivilie.1, desj1ile !he co11ti11ui11g crL1is of !hi' dejJ/'l'.1.1io11.

32

Red 1\Ja room arc imponant forces behind the hypocrisy or the administration. People who make huge profits r,-om war are not automatically barred from the boa,·d or trustees.

The facu lty advisor to the university's Socialist Club, Professor Maynard Krueger, questioned the administration 's banning the club as well as the university 's chapter or the NSL. fn a letter to President Hutchins, Krueger claimed that the regulations cited by Wi lli am E. Scott, assistant dean of students, as having been llouted by the two radical groups did not appear in any published form. The student groups involved published an article in the Daily Maroon claiming that "when a student from the Socialist Club asked [one of Scott's secretaries] for a copy of the regulation under which the organization had been banned , the secretary replied, .. . 'Dean Scott is now writing the regulation. "' In addition, Krueger questioned Scott's motive in suspending the clubs, noting that newspaper reporters were told or the administration' · actions several hours before the organizations were given no-

tice. ln response to the allegation that the suspensions were capricious, Scott rep! ied that the groups had been informed of off-campus restrictions as early as May 1, when Scott first learn e d of the groups' plans to march in a downtown Chicago May Day parade bearing banners emblazoned with "U or C." Scott a lso remarked on the SL's indifference to its own status, writing Hutchins that "the NSL was without recognition during the fall quarter of 1934 because its officers had failed to file the formal statement required of a ll organizations at the beginning of each year."

In October 1935, both organizations were reinstated. The Socialist Club welcomed their reestablishment on campus, but cynical ly remarked that " it wou ld have been hard to maintain the pre text or a 'community or scholars' of academic freedom, if student groups were forbidden to exist" The writers or the radical student publication Soapbox also pointed out that, in the wake or the investigation, student organizations were to be under tighter restrictions. A written body of regulations for student groups was developed by th e administration, based on

l'outh r:01111111///•e 1l[;ai11sl l!'ar /H'ace rally, May I 939. Some university ad111i11istratio11.1 disregarded students' rights of/1-eer/0111, .1/Jeer/1, 1111d the prt>.1.1. ll'ading, ironically, to a hei[;htenrd sensr of political co11.1rious11ess among students.

33

Chicago History, Sjning and Summer 1992

the four-point memorandum Hutchins had circulated to faculty and staff during the committee investigation. The ambiguous criterion of "good taste'' was added to policies restricting activities to only those groups that in no way associated themselve ll'ith the overthroll' or the government, other groups that incited overthroll', or the use of any symbols of same.

Regulations and re trictions did not bring campus political activity LO an end. This ll'as particularly true of actions supported by a broad spectrum of students, like the peace demonstrations of the middle LO late 1930s. In the wake of the Walgreen hearings and the mob violence of the consen ative Public Policy Association and the American Legion, campu administrators ll'ere more cautious about allowing political rallies. Despite the university administration's increasingly restrictive attitude, the 1936 and 1937 student peace strikes drew larger numbers of participants than that of 1935. President Hutchins' national leadership in opposing U.S. involvement in any foreign wars made the campus antiwar movement that much more acceptable.

1

34

Radical and pacifist actl\'ltles on campus peaked and ebbed in the late I 930s. It was not until 1937 that a blatantly communist student group, the Communist Club, was recognized on the University of Chicago campus. In its first year it had twenty-one members. By the time the recognition of the group was withdrall'n by th e administration in l 9cl0, its member hip had steadily declined to only six registered members. The rise and decline of the Communist Club mirrored that of radical and pacifist organiLations around the country.

Many students began to desert the Communist party when Stalin signed the 1939 nonaggression pact with , until then , archenemy Hitler.

Popular Front organizations that had been umbrella groups of liberal and radical tudent organizations, united in their pacifism and opposition to fascism, broke apart as a result of the Stalin-Hitler pact. IL ll'aS particularly hard for many less-committed students to stay in groups like the Communist Club while hardline communists, who dominated the American organizations, refused to criticize the extremely cynical and hypocritical foreign pol-

Red Maroons

O/J/Jmite, 0 11 A/n il 17, 1940, student activisl.1 created a field of' crosses on the 1vl idway, rejnesenting Flanders Fi1,fd i11 Belgium. Above, th e ASL! slages a "Day for Peare." Below, the ASL' hangs !filler in effigy.

icy of the Soviet Union. \Vhen communists within the ASU blocked a resolution in April 1940, condemning the Soviets for their invasion of Finland, that group fragmented.

Hitler's attack on Poland was the beginning of the decay of American pacifism and isolationism. The remnant of the radical Left on campus became the dominant force in the antiwar movement. Since the Soviet Union was officially at peace with Germany, radicals felt no urge to enter the war in support or the imperialist nations of England and France. Gradually, campus attitudes, like American public opinion as a whole, began to shift toward limited intervention. On October 13, 1939, the Daily Maroon published an editorial in support of lend-lease assistance to England. By November 1941, the student newspaper had shifted its view to one that supported American assistance to the allies in the European conFlict, just short of actual military participation. The Maroon editorialized against the peace strikes of 1940 and 1941, saying that pacifism was now irresponsible in the face of razi aggression against democratic Western Europe. The student paper also felt that the United States would have to play a role in the war in order to play one in structuring the eventual peace. Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor and Germany and Italy's subsequent declarations of war on the United States and the Soviet Un ion ended the debate. President Hutchins again set the tone for the campus, saying that the university was ready to go to war. The radical Left had already made its dramatic opinion swing, becoming the most ardent interventionists after Hitler attacked the Soviet Union in June 1941. The only holdouts were conscientious objectors and religious pacifists, and they opposed not the motives and objectives of World War IT, but those of any war.

But fear of communist-dominated universities and colleges neYer completely disappeared. In the late 1940s and early 1950s, Senator Joseph McCarthy and others led one of the most extreme anticommunist campaign in American hi tory. In their effort to protect the American way of life from annihilation at the hands of the totalitarian Soviet Union, McCarthy supporters placed col lege 35

Chicago J-Jis/01)', Spring and Sw11111n 1992 and university faculty and sludents, and a host of other inLellectuals, under suspicion. More Lhan six hundred professors were eventually dismissed, and co llege administrators supressed student political organizations, though activ ism among the generall y conservative student population was minimal. A 1949 Time poll found commun ist groups active at only eight univ ersities : California at Berkeley, Harvard, Ohio State, Washington, Wisconsin, North Carolin a, Oregon, and Ch icago.

In 1949 an unwelcome reprise of the Walgreen hearings came to the university . The Seditious Activities lnve Ligation Commission (SAI C) of the state of lllinois-also known as the Broyles Commission-was set up to examRight, sailors 011 their way to rlas.1e.1, 19-12, a11d below, 111i/ita1y /Jersonnel and students, 19-12. By 1941 , the jx1cifism of the J 930s had yielded lo widespread support Jar ;lmerican involvemml in World !Var 11.

36

ine evidence of subversive act ivities at Lhe Un iversity of Chicago and Roosevelt College. Both the Walgreen and the Broyles invesLigations were in large part instigated by lobbying from conservative groups . However, unlike the earlier investigation , in wh ich the Hearst papers

Red Maroons precipitated eve nts, tbe work of the Broyles Comm iss ion bad little support from the major metropolitan press. Hutchins, now chance ll or of the university, testified as he had fourteen years earli er that subversive student activity was nonexi tent, and once aga in , he invoked the rio-ht of academic freedom in support of his b facu lty. The Broyles Comm ission, like the Walgreen investigation, came to an encl without uncovering a subvers ive plot at the Un ivers ity of Chicago. No faculty members were fired, and no students were suspended for affi li ation with commun ist groups.

During the first ha lf of the twentieth century, university and co ll ege facu lty and students nationwide were attacked [or their political activi sm a nd unorthodox beliefs. But under the leadership o[ Robert Maynard Hutchins, the Un iversity of Chicago remained a refuge of intellectual freedom in a nation that was becoming less acceptin g of dissident voices. Despite externa l pressures, the university large ly li ved up to its professed ideal of free inquiry. The degree o[ repression at the Un iversity of Ch icago remained low in part because or a less radicaliLed stude11L body and in part because of Hutchins's efforts to create and preserve a tolerant inte ll ectua l atmosphere. His impas ioned pleas for academic freedom set the tone for tbe campus.

The co nsen·atism of the nation and of stu clen ts in postwar America meant th at radical dissent would be muted in the 1950s . The minority of students who were interested in changing American society turned their attention to issues o[ race and civi l rights. The realization of the greatest and best-kno\\'n outburst or student dissent during the 1960s was strongly inOuencecl by the civi l rights protests o[ th e late 1950s and by the radical student movements that had preceded them, particularly the radical students of the thirties.

There might have been no Co lumbi a University sit-in without a legacy of similar tactics used by norwiolent civil rights ad\'Ocates in the South. There might have been no Berkeley peace marches without the heritage of 1930s student anti\\'ar prote ts. And today, as university and co ll ege communities grapple with the demand for political correctness in the classroom and in ot her in stitut ional affa irs, stu-

dents and fac ulty continue to debate the limits of academic freedom and politcal activi sm on campus and ho\\' these issues are related to Ameri ca n society at large.

For Further Reading Student Politics in America: A Historirnl Analysis by Philip G. Altbach (New York: McGraw-I Till , 1974) provides a hi sto ,-y of stude nt activi sm. Ra lph S. Brax 's ThP Finl Student Movement: Student Activism in the United Stales During the 1930s (Port \\'ash in gton , .Y. : Kennikat Press, 1981) and Eileen Eagan's

Class, Culture, and the Classroom: The Student Peace J'vlovement of the 1930s (Ph il adelphi a : Temp le University Press, 198 1) discuss the national student movements. James C. Schneider exp lores the debate over interventionism versus isolationism in

Should A.mnica Go lo War? The Debate Over ForPign Polity in Chirago, 1939-1941 (C hapel Hill: Uni versity of' North Carolina Press, l 989) . An excerpt from thi book, "The Battle of the Two Colone ls," appears in Chicago History, Fall 1989, vo l. XVI!f, no .

3. No Ivory Tower: AlcCarthyism and the Universities

by Ellen \\'. Schrecker (New York: Oxford nl\'Crsity P,-ess, 1986) examines the attack on academic and political freedom in America n unive rsities during the McCarthy era. Recent biographies of' Robert Maynard Hutchins include Han-y S. Ashmore's Un-

seasonable Truths: The Life of Robert Maynard Hutchins (Boston : Little, Brown, 1989) and Ma,-y Ann Dzuback's Robert J\11. Hutchins: Portrait of an Educator (Chicago: The Univers ity of Chicago Press, 1991).

Illu strations All photographs are from The Un ivers ity of Chicago Library, Department of Special Co ll ections, except the fo ll ow ing: 20, CIIS, DN B-2526; 25, CII S, JCI-li -2 148 1; 32, CHS , ICH i-21 477 .

37

lht lniutrsity and tht tity

by Daniel Meyer

The ambitions of the new University of Chicago reflected the larger scale and quickened tempo of twentieth-century urban life. hen the University of Chicago opened in . , 1892, American cities were in the midst of a period of remarkable growth and change. As industries expanded, trade and services diversified, and the tide of recently arrived immigrants swelled into the millions, cities acquired an unprecedented size and density that shifted the focus of American society from rural farms and towns to the urban street.

William Rainey Harper and other American university leaders recognized that the growing force of urbanization had profound implica-

lions for the future of higher education. Speaking at Nicholas Murray Butler's inauguration as president of Columbia University in 1902, Harper saw the potential for nothing less than a complete institutional transformation. "A university which will adapt itself to urban influence," said Harper, "which will undertake to serve as an expression of urban civilization, and which is compelled to meet the demands of an urban environment will ... gradually take on new characteristics both outward and inward , and it will ultimately form a new type of university. " For Harper, the model of the new urban American university was the University of Chicago, the comprehensive research institution he had outlined in his first Official Bulletin of 1891 and continued to shape over the next fifteen years as president.

Daniel Meyer is associate curator of Special Collections at the University of Chicago.

-..:

ouglas Hall, Old University of Chicago, c. 1870. The first institution to bear the name of University of Chicago was founded in 1856. Located on Cottage Grove Avenue just north of Thirty-fifth Street, the old university reflected the denominational loyalty and civic pride of 38

Chicago's Baptists. The institution, however, was unable to secure adequate financial support and was forced to close in 1886. In the wake of this failure, a group of leading Chicago Baptists initiated a campaign to found a new university at the earliest opportunity.

In its combination of graduate and undergraduate studies, diversity of curricular offerings and degree programs, and efficient four-quarter academic calendar, the university reflected the enlarged scale and quickened tempo of twentieth-century urban life.

Harper intended his institution to be the focal point of a network of academies, schools, and colleges, each feeding students to the university and serving as part of a larger, integrated educational system. In the realm of higher education , the university would thus parallel the role and influence of the city of Chicago, which through its banks, commodities markets, industries, and railroads dominated commerce in the Middle West and claimed a central role in directing the economic growth of the nation.

Harper's ambition for the systematic coordination of every form of education and its integration with the life of the city included those who were not able to become fulltime students on the university campus. An extension division offered academic instruction by mail, while those who lived in the city were offered public lectures in neighborhood locations along with a full complement of evening and weekend courses for degree credit.

Harper's visionary program found ready acceptance in Chicago, in part because the city was enjoying the prosperity of an era of expansion and welcomed the exhilaration of big ideas. Higher education was also welcomed because it filled an important position in the array

of cultural institutions that civic leaders were building. Older institutions such as the Chicago Historical Society and the Chicago Academy of Sciences were part of this ambitious effort. So too were the Art Institute of Chicago, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, the Chicago Public Library, and the two great privately endowed research collections, the Newberry Library and John Crerar Library.

The World 's Columbian Exposition of 1893 was the most spectacular, if most ephemeral , of these cultural endeavors, its image of classical refinement gone after a single summer Yet it vividly expressed the ideals and expectations of the city's social elite and left its own permanent legacy with the establishment of the Field Museum.

Chicago History, Spring and Summer 1992

If the city of Chicago was quick to see the benefits a new academic institution would bring, members of the university faculty were equally alert to the advantages of working in a metropolis Obviously, a large city offered the university a substantial pool of prospective students and the promise of more generous financial support from its patrons. But there were other lures as well. Political economists sought to understand the operations of large industrial concerns. Sociologists were drawn to the problems of immigration, ethnicity, delinquency, and social order.

Educators saw an opportunity to test new theories of learning Social workers wanted to address inequities in employment, child care, and public health. Political scientists were

concerned about the corruption of municipal government, the power of party machines, and the future of the democratic system For scholars in these fields and others, the city of Chicago offered an ideal laboratory for investigation, experimentation, and discovery.

In exploring the relationship of the university and the city, this photo essay can only begin to suggest the variety and strength of the ties that have bound the institution and its urban home. Over the past century, the relationship has changed as both the university and the city have developed and matured. In many respects, the city has outgrown its early regional ambitions and assumed an international perspective closer to the academic cos-

mopolitanism that Harper's university adopted from the beginning.

The university's perspective on the city has also changed as scholarly disciplines have shifted and coalesced and sources of financial support have become more diffuse.

For both the city and the university, however, the bonds and commitments of the 1890s have proved remarkably resilient. The vision of the Chicago supporters of the university has been largely realized , even if in ways they could not have anticipated. As the university marks its centennial , Chicago- the university and the city- can measure the anniversary's significance on the scale of the founders ' achievement.

The University and the City

enry Ives Cobb's plan for the University of Chicago, 1893 (below) . One of the nation 's most noted architects, Cobb was commissioned by the university's trustees to design the first lecture halls and dormitories, as well as a comprehensive plan to guide future architectural development. Cobb's plan called for a series of rectangular courts arranged around a central quadrangle that would be dominated by the Gothic spires of a chapel and a university hall. Although Cobb 's appointment as university architect ended in 1901 , his quadrangular plan and the Gothic style set the pattern for the university's building program.

Jl

~

illiam Rainey Harper (in top hat) with students at Yale University, c. 1890 (above) . The man selected to lead the new University of Chicago was a professor of Semitic languages and Biblical literature at Yale. Not yet thirty-five years old, Harper was well known for his academic work at Yale and at the Baptist Union Theological Seminary in Chicago . While some had denominational concerns about Harper's theological liberalism, he was persuaded to accept the presidency of the new university effective July 1, 1891 .

41

Chicago History, Spring and Summer 1992

niversity of Chicago campus as seen from the Midway of the World 's Columbian Exposition , 1893 (above) . Visitors to the fair often got their first glimpse of the university while riding the Ferris wheel or touring the amusement district on the Midway Plaisance . Foster Hall, a women 's dormitory under construction, faced a replicated Egyptian souk and temple across Fifty-ninth Street. Photograph

by C. D. Arnold .

l

42

lbert A. Michelson addressing the seventh convocation , July 2, 1894 (right). The convocation was established

by President Harper as the university's quarterly commencement ceremony. Early speakers included faculty members such as Michelson, who spoke on "Some of the Objects and Methods of Physical Science." In the background, the Midway Plaisance has been cleared of world 's fair amusements.

The University and the City

43

Chicago History, Spring and Summer 1992

alter Eckersall in action , Stagg Field , 1905 (below).

A three-time All-American , Walter Eckersall (with ball) led the 1905 football team to an undefeated season record and to the conference championship.

The university's athletic grounds, originally dubbed "Marshall Field " by students, were renamed in 1913 to honor coach Amos Alonzo Stagg.

U

itchcock Hall cornerstone laying, 1901 (above) . Designated the founder of the university because of his milliondollar gifts, John D. Rockefeller (in top hat) nonetheless expected the wealthy citizens of Chicago to bear their share of the institution's financial needs. At the university's decennial celebration in 1901 , Rockefeller witnessed the cornerstone layings of several buildings that testified to the commitment of local donors. Mrs. Hitchcock (at left), widow of a prominent Chicago attorney, gave funds for a men's residence hall.

i

44

The University and the City

45

Chicago History, Spring and Summer 1992

46

The University and the City

ames and Frances Breasted and son Charles, Temple of Amada, Nubia, Upper Egypt, 1906 (left) . A founder of modern archaeology and head of the university 's Oriental Institute, James H. Breasted was renowned for the expeditions he directed along the Nile and in ancient Mesopotamia.

J

ress building interior, 1913 (above) . In accordance with William Rainey Harper's academic plan , a scholarly press was established as one of the five original divisions of the university. ' In addition to publishing monographs and journals, the press in the early years served as the university's printer and as the library's agent in buying books .

47

Chicago History, Spring and Summer 1992

orado Taft (above, far right) and group, Midway Studios, undated. An adjunct member of the faculty who held the vaguely defined position of "professorial lecturer on the history of art," Lorado Taft was the founder of and presiding presence at the university's Midway Studios.

Friends, students, and fellow sculptors formed an amiable artists' community in the rambling studio complex and shared meals beneath plaster casts of work in progress .

1

48

The University and the City

B

eserve Officers Training Corps (ROTC) infantry drill, Stagg Field, 1917.

The onset of American involvement in World War I led the university administration to rescind an honorary degree awarded to the German ambassador, Johann Heinrich von Bernstorff. It also brought hundreds of students into a newly formed ROTC unit, temporarily displacing Coach Stagg's teams from the football field . More than sixty students died in battle or from disease during the war.

49

Chicago History, Spring and Summer 1992

50

The University and the City

ran kl in C. McLean in his laboratory, c. 1931 (below).

The university operated its first medical program in affiliation with Rush Medical College of Chicago and opened its own medical school and clinics in 1927. McLean, who was the director of the clinics, had previously organized the Peking Union Medical College for the Rockefeller Institute of China.

f

rank Lloyd Wright's Robie House (above, at right) overlooking the corner of Woodlawn Avenue and Fifty-eighth Street, c. 1925. The Hyde Park neighborhood surrounding the uni' versity began as a railroad suburb and grew into a comfortable middle-class community. Frank Lloyd Wright, Howard Van Doren Shaw, Holabird & Roche, and Marshall and Fox were among the architects and firms that designed houses in the neighborhood for businessmen, professionals, and university faculty members.

51

Chicago History, Spring and Summer 1992

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The University and the City

I

rnest W. Burgess with "Social Research Map of Chicago," c. 1925 (left) .

For Burgess and his colleagues in the university's department of sociology, Chicago was an ideal focus for investigations into modern urban society. Delinquency, labor conditions, recreation, organized crime, the homeless, and ethnic assimilation all posed fascinating problems for research.

In conducting their studies, the Chicago sociologists drew on the work of economists, political scientists, geographers, statisticians, historians, and demographers.

niversity of Chicago Round Table program on censorship, January 18, 1942 (above) .

Left to right are Harold D. Lasswell , Byron Price, and William Benton.

From 1931 to 1955, the university sponsored the Round Table, a regular series of radio programs devoted to important questions of public concern. Government officials and nonacademic experts joined university faculty members in unrehearsed discussions broadcast weekly to a national audience over NBC. William Benton, cofounder of the Benton and Bowles advertising agency and a university vice-president, played a key role in developing the program .

l

53

Chicago History, Spring and Summer 1992

esearch Institutes and Accelerator Building under construction , 1951. The successful nuclear chain-reaction created under Stagg Field's west stands in 1942 brought many scientists to the university campus for military research projects .

After the war, the university sustained the collaborative research environment by founding what became the Enrico Fermi Institute and the James Franck Institute.

Buildings for the institutes and a nuclear accelerator were erected across the street from the site of the first successful reactor.

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54

The University and the City

asic Program of Liberal Education for Adults, University College, 1954. An extension division was an essential part of William Rainey Harper's plan for the university. Originally conceived as a program of correspondence, lecture, and classroom courses, the extension later expanded to include credit and noncredit class for adults of all ages . The basic program of liberal education , inspired by the university's innovative undergraduate curriculum, has been one of the most consistently popular offerings. Photograph by Stephen Lewellyn.

1B

55

Unwelcome Neighbors

by Stev,1art Winger

When African-Americans sought better housing in the neighborhoods around the University of Chicago in the 193 Os and 1940s, university officiaL'i sufJported restrictive covenants to block racial integration in these c01nrnunities.

With few exceptions, African-Americans migrating to Chicago in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries seu led in the city's Black Belt, an area that extended from Twelfih Street to Seventy-ninth Street and from Wentworth A\'enue to Cottage Gro\'e Avenue. As black migrants came to the city during World War I, the gheuo expanded to meet the demand for more hou sin g and improved livin g conditions. But a limit wa imposed on this growth. White property owners from the Hyde Park and Woodlawn communities, which lay just east of the Black Belt, perceived any movement of African-Americans toward the lake as a threat to their quiet, segregated neighborhoods, and they took measures to protect their homes from these unwelcome neighbors.

The University of Chicago, one of the largest property owners in Hyde Park and \'\loodlawn , was eager to play a leadership role in determining the future of the neiohborhoods surrounding its campus. But by 1928, Robert Maynard Hutchins, the newly appointed president of the uni\'ersity , and other school officials faced a seemingly insol\'able dilemma over the issue of Black Belt expansion: should they take a liberal stand by allowing the su1Tounding neighborhoods to become all black or would thatj eopardi;:e the very existence of the institution, dealing a more se\'ere blow to the spirit of libera li sm?

To prevent racial integration of the surrounding neighborhoods and thus stabili;:e property values, board members upported and ,,-rote racially restnctive residential covenants . The board's support of restricti\'e agreements, which lasted until 19-1:8 when the Slewarl Winger is a graduate s/11dml i11 !he Cammi/lee 011 I-Iisl01)' of Culture al !he U11i.1ersily of Chicago.

36

U.S. Supreme Court ruled such contracts unconstitut iona l, was never publicly adm itted.

The uniYersity managed to keep its real estate practices out of the public eye and to maintain an image as a liberal and progressive institution. Only newspapers produced by and for African-Americans reported the university's discriminatory actions. But by the 1940s, the uni\'ersity's re~trictive covenant practices had become more well known , and the school's reputation came into question.

With renewed migra1ion of African-Americans from the South during and after World \Var II came a climate increasingly hostile to O\'ert discrimination . When Chicago's major newspapers-owned and operated by white began to cover racial problems, civil rights issues came to the forefront. Liberal activists targeted racism in every aspect or university life. In l 9cJ:3, \\'. E. B. Du Bois, one of the nation's prominent ci\'i l rights leaders, characterii'ed the uni\'ersity's policies as "a combination of hidebound prejudice and liberality."

The university's property policies a lso troubled President Hutchins, who considered himselr a progressi\'e and enjoyed a reputation as a liberal reformer. But shifting attituclc~ about race relations during the postwar period made the situation in l Iycle Park and Woodlawn difficult. Faced with tough cho ices, llutchins and other university officials came to rea li7e that simply proclaiming high principles from a comfortable academic distance did not sol\'e the problem. Paraly;,ed by uncertainty about how to handle racial issue , they reacted, when pressed, with half-measures. Yet however haltingly they proceeded , the university e\'entually faced some its own prejudices and began to conform more closely to its widely held image as a liberal in st ituti on.

Restrictive covenants were widely used in Chicago's neighborhoods. These agreements by the landowners of a given area prohibited people from selling, leasi ng, or renting propert)' to specified groups, someLimes Jews or Ch in ese-Americans, but in Lhe case of Hyde Park and Woodlawn, African-Americans. If a certain percentage of properly owners signed Lhe agreements, any owner who violated Lhe contract cou ld be sued by another owner. The covenanls were appurtenant to Lhe land,

which meanL thaL they bound any future purchasers of Lhe property. ncler the leadership of James Joseph Burke, the \\'oodlawn Propeny Owner's Association (\VPOA) signed in 1927 a group of separate restrictive covenants coverin g Woodlawn , its WashingLOn Park subdivision, and Hyde Park.

Ultimately, the agreements proved Lo be inherenLly unstable. CovenanLs for areas that bordered Lhe Black Belt were panicularly tenuous and, as the Un ivers ity of Chicago would

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57

Chicago History, Spring and Swnmer 1992

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Unwelcome Neighbo1:s discover, almost impossible to maintain for any length of time. In areas such as Woodlawn, which bordered the Black Belt, Lhe temptaLion Lo violate the agreement was often great because African-Americans would, Lo escape the confines of the ghetto, pay much more than whiles for housing. The most logical area for expansion of the Black Belt was Woodlawn's Washington Park subdivision (an area defined by Sixtieth Street, Cottage Grove Avenue, Sixty-third Street, and South Park Avenue). The movement of African-Americans into this subdivision in the 1930s challenged the covenants and pitted Lhe black community against the University of Chicago in a protracted legal battle for access to betLer housing in predominantly white neighborhoods.

The university faced its first legal challenge to its restrictive covenants in 1933 when African-Americans moved into property on the east side of South Park Avenue (now Martin Luther King, Jr., Drive). At Lhe behest of Frank O'Brian, vice president of McKey and Poague Realtors and an alumnus of the University of Chicago, Lhc university financed a dummy lawsuit (Burke v. Kleiman) for the WPOA. The agreements required signatures for 95 percent of Lhe property frontage in a city block, but the WPOA had obtained only 54 percent of the signatures for the Washington Park subdivision. To secure the legality of the covenants, the \VPOA had Kleiman stipulaLe that the signatures were authentic and sufficient.

The defendant's lawyers argued that because three previous black tenancies had gone without challenge, conditions had changed in Lhe area enough that Lhe covenants should not be enforced. Beyond this, the defendants claimed that since they had already occupied the home on outh Park Avenue for some time, the injunction ought would cause undue hardship. Predictably, the court ruled in favor of Burke and the \\'POA. The defendants appealed the decision, and the appellate court Map fimn Horace Cayton's Social Action. Hyde Park was bounded by f~wle P(/1-// BoufP1 m-d, the lake, Si,\lielh Street, and C:ollagr Grove, !venue. I l'oodlawn extended from Sixtieth Street to Sixty-.11,1 1enlh Strei'/ and jimn the lake lo South Chicago /h •enue and South Park Avenue, which is 110w Martin Luther King, Jr., Dri·ue.

sustained the lower court ruling that the agreements were valid and enforceable. Thus, through a fraudulent legal maneuYer, the university established Lhe validity of the covenants and delayed black occupancy of Washington Park for seven years.

In 1937, anoLher case arose involving African-Americans living in a home on Rhodes Avenue, which stood in the middle of the Washington Park subdivision. In Lee v. Hansberry, a coterie of lawyers Lhat included Irvin Mollison, president of the Illinois State Conference of the I AACP, argued against the VPOA covenants. Among the defendants were the secretary of the Chicago branch of the NAACP; the president of Supreme Liberty Life Insurance Co.; a staff physician at Provident Hospital; and James Joseph Burke, the man who wrote the covenants.

Lower court injunctions continued to prohibit black occupancy in Washington Park, while the litigation dragged on until 1940.

Stipulations made in Burke v. Kleiman evenLually settled the Lee v. Hansberry lawsuit. In 1937, the WPOA's university-paid lawyers convinced the Illinois courts to consider the former case a class-action lawsuit, even though the defendants of Lee v. Hansberry had not been party to the original suit. Although the court agreed that the procedures in Burke v .

Kleiman had been fraudulent, it nevertheless found the validity of the covenant's signatures to be res judicala, a matter already settled by the court. Less than ten years later, judges would more readily invalidate covenants, but aL this time Illinois judges hard!)' hesiLatecl LO uphold restrictive prnperty agreements. In 1940, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that there had been no class action in Burke v. Kleiman.

Therefore, the lower court's refusal to accept evidence in Lee v. Hansberry pertaining to the validiLy, genuineness, and sufficiency of the signatures violated the defendants' right to clue process, and the decision was overturned.

Dissatisfied with the way Burke handled the covenarns, L. R. Steere, the university's board treasurer, withdrew university support for the WPOA in March 1937 and hired Robert Mitchell to take charge of day-to-cla)_' operations for the board 's Special Committee on Community Interests. Mitchell reported to \

1

59

Chicago History, S/Jring and Summer 1992 Steere and continued the work Burke had done. His job was Lo stabilize Woodlawn by working with neighborhood organizations Lo clean up the neighborhood, Lo enforce codes, LO ban liquor sales, and Lo pressure aldermen for street repair. He was also Lo enforce the restrictive co,·enants proper!)' and promptly. In addition, Mitchell would organize the Woodlawn Property Owners League (\VPOL), which covered Woodlawn, including Washington Park, and was to replace the disbanded WPOA. Out of a job and apparent!)' desiring revenge, Burke turned against his former emplo)'ers. He knew precisely what role the university's board of trustees had played in the case, and he told the story to the Chicago Defender, the black city newspaper. In August 1937 an editorial appeared in the Defender attacking George Fainveather, assistant business

manager of the university and assistant treasurer of the board. The article accused him of promoting segregation in the Washington Park subdi,·ision through financial support for the \\'POA, which, thanks to Burke, was known Lo be behind the court action against Hansberry. A cartoon that accompanied Lhe article showed a two-faced figure in an academic gown, Leaching democratic ideals on one side an<l defending discrimination on the other.

Fairweather responded by meeting with the editorial writer, Metz P. T. Lochard, and the business manage r of the Defender, Valoris J. Washington, to explain his actions. He told the men that the university did not belong to the \\'POA, and that it participated only through its membership in the Sixty-third Street Council, an organization or neighborhood businesses. In fact, the university had

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Left, Hamre Cayton, a .,ociologist H•ho had .1tudied 1111r/er Louis Wirth at the university, estimated that 80 percent of the city wcl, afjeclfd by restrictive covmanl.\.

Above, in hi., 111aga:i11e Social Action, Cayton described AfricanAmericans' jJ/ighl; of all gro11/Js, lhe_)' 11tjfered lhe /owe.it incomes and the highest rmL,.

U11welco111e Neighbors

Ge01gP Foir11w1thn, a.1si,1ta111 bmine.1.1 mrwager of the u11iversi1y and assislant treasurer of lhe board. The Chicago Defender arcu.lfff Fai1weather o(/Jro111otin1; s!'gregation in Washington Park by sup/Jorting lhe Woodlawn Property Owner's Association (11'POA) _financially.

61

Chirago HislOI)', S/Jring and

wnmer 1992

created the Sixty-third Street Council chiefly to fund the v\TPOA, whose main task, in turn , was to enforce covenants. Fairweather asked Lochard and Washington about their relationship with Burke. They stated that they knew him but distrusted him. Without renouncing covenants, Fairweather hinted that the university would sponsor a new, larger organization to replace the WPOA. He claimed that the administrators fired Burke because he devoted too much of his time to the agreements and not enough to neighborhood maintenance, cleanup, and code enforcement; in fact, they fired him for mishandling the covenants.

Fairweather expressed the hope that the new property owners league might both alleviate living conditions for African-Americans and perpetuate an all-white Washington Park area. He said this policy was ocially and legally sound. Lochard and Washington admitted that neighborhoods west of South Park Avenue were deteriorating, and that the people of Washington Park had the right to live as they saw fit. The men also discussed the possibilities of housing projects. Washington supported this plan , but the more suspicious Lochard viewed subsidized housing as an attempt to maintain segregation.

Above and right, car/0011.1 from Racial Restrictive Covenants, a booklet jJublished by the Chicago Council Against Racial and Religious Discrimination.

62

At the time of the meeting, the university had no of[icial policy regarding covenants and would not have one for several months . Until then , Fairweather handled the situation on a day- to-day basis. In October, he stated: "My personal reaction is that segregation agreements-even if upheld by the courts-are not socially desirable." They were legal , however, and if the \\TPOL (now entirely the creation of the university) chose to use them , the university could claim it was not their bu ·iness. This became the official university explanation, which Hutchins reiterated in a letter that appeared in the November 6, 1937, Defender.

Though it was apparent to anyone familiar with the situation that the university endorsed the restrictive covenants in Washington Park, it hid its policy and actions behind a neighborhood organization it controlled to avoid adverse publicity. Thus in his capacity as assistant treasurer, George Fairweather laid the groundwork for an important university policy that remained in effect for eleven year .

In !\lay 1938, the Illinois State Conference of the TAACP, under Irvin Mollison, issued a set of resolutions designed to coax the university into open confrontation over their restrictive covenant policy . Hutchins asked William Harrell , the univer ity's business manager, for advice, and Harrel I recommended sLonewalling. ff the university remained silent, Harrell reasoned, the AACP would be unable to get the attention of the mainstream white press. In a memorandum to Hutchins, Harrell stated: " Property restriction agreements have not actually been signed in the name of the niversity. While it appears to be general knowledge that the Uni\'ersity i actively behind the movement, there is probably some advantage in neglecting to affirm or to deny

Unwelcome /\'eiKhbon our participation." Hutchins then sent Mollison a copy of his 1937 D~fender statement, which had served as the officia l policy, and said the situation was under review. For the moment that settled the matter.

In a letter to Hutchins, Fa irweather advocated the outright defense of property restrictions, justifying his position by citing the Defender's column s about b lack socia l and moral delinquencies. AJthough Fairweather acknowledged the black comm unity's criticism of covenants, he believed the restri ctions were justified. ln stead of supportin g th e repeal of the agreements, he advocated a comprehensive university-sponsored program to ease the housing shortage on the South Side. He argued that confl ict with the black commun ity was morally and practically unsound. He a lso suggested "an inqui ry with teeth in it" to force land lords to keep buildings up to code. To better serve the area's needs, he proposed community reorganization. His letter ended with a peroration that a ll this was "our job after all. " Hutchins's Defender letter was, for the most part, correct when it asserted that "an exam ination of the UniYers ity's record [wou ld ] convince any fair-minded person that in determining the policies of the institution neither the trustees nor the administrative officers [were] actuated by race prejudice. " Most, if not all , of the people invo lved in these decisions realized the plight of the South Sid e AfricanAmericans and the need for an expanded Black Belt. Even Robert Mitchell, who sa id that his job was to maintain a "stable, white population of high character," al o sa id of the Black Belt: 'This city within the city has its own problems which must be faced by its white neighbors if the conflict of interest between the two races are to be lessened." But even if the problems of the South Side could have been solved with money, the university did not have the resources to enact any changes.

Desperate for id eas, the board of trustees' Special Committee on Community Interests had asked Louis \\'irth, the reno\\'ned urban sociologist, for suggestions as early as ~1arch 1936. Wirth be li eved restrictive cO\·enants \\'ere morally repugnant a nd against the pre,·ailing public sentiment; he believed they wou ld fa il in the encl. He argued that the uni-

Loui_1 lf/irth, a renowned sociologist al the University of Chicago, 1945. IVirth fe/t that restrictive covenanl.1 were morally repugnant.

vers ity should abandon covenants a nd support housing projects, because in the lon g run only improved cond itions in the black com munity could give the university the sa fe neighborhood it wanted. I-le recommended that the university confine a ll of its real estate holdings to the area from Fifty-fifth to Sixty-first streets.

But the possibility of an integrated neighborhood ,vas never considered. An a lumna's suggestion that the uniYersity abandon restrictive agreements and rely instead on enforcing ord inances to attract more socia lly desirable, middle-class African-Am ericans prompted treasurer Steere to respond in support of the restrictive covenant with what he knew would be exp losive commentary: "For my own part I am persuaded that the welfare and even the very existence of the University in the future requ ires, in the present circumstances, that such agreements be upported and encouraged in the neighboring communities." This position found support within an ambiva lent university 63

Chirago Histo,)', Spring and Summer 1992 community. As the Daily Maroon stated: "The prejudices of people are such that Negroes and whites will not live together. Further, areas into which egroes have mo\'ed got run down. This is a fact, due not to the viciousness of Negroes, but the low income of many Negroes and unfair exploitation of 1egro tenants by landlords."

Though Harrell believed that Mitchell's vision for the neighborhood would only delay the inevitable, the board was betting that federal housing projects and expansion of the Black Belt to other areas would ease the pressure on Woodlawn and Hyde Park.

Meanwhile, board treasurer L. R. Steere, who remained sanguine about the covenants, followed the Hansberry case as it moved through the appellate court system. After the board had several promising legal victories in Illinois, the U.S. Supreme Court's Lee v.

Hansberry ruling effectively doomed the Washington Park subdivision covenants in 1 overnber 1940. The board continued to support litigation regarding the \i\'ashington Park covenants, however, and university lawyers carefully prepared and recorded new agreement for other parts of Woodlawn. Though ti1ey realized C0\'enants were at best a stopgap measure, university officials still relied on them almost exclusively.

Robert Hutchins remained remarkably distant from the controversy, acting merely as a spokesman. He usually referred questions and criticism about these matters to Harrell or Steere and relayed their suggestions in abbreviated form. Throughout Hutchins's tenure, the board took the leading role through the treasurer and the Special Committee on Community Interests; after I 944 it acted through the business manager and a standing committee of the board.

In August 1943, Hutchins spoke at Manciel Hall on "Education for Democracy ." In the question-and-answer period that followed , Horner Jack, a Unitarian minister and leader of the Committee of Racial Equality (CORE), asked Hutchins "how education for democracy could be achieved in our schools of higher learning, and particularly at the University of Chicago, when racial discrimination prevails. " Never at a loss for a reply , Hutchins said: "Education for democracy cannot be achieved while social and religious discrimination is practiced. As far as I know, racial and religious discrimination do not occur at the University of Chicago. If any one hears or knows of any ca e of this sort, I would like to have it reported to me personally and immediately." He

L'nwelco111e Neighbon knew better. In 1942 Hutch ins had said, "it is practicall y difficult to have Negro internes at Bi ll ings because medica l treatment requires the cooperation of the patient." Thus, it does not seem in keeping with his character to suppose this was a sh rewd move to put the discrimination issue on the un ivers ity's agenda when he could have put it there himself.

Caught off guard by Jack's question, his answer may reflect hi s concern for his reputation as a crusader and a prophet of great ideas. It may also revea l his genuine desire to come clean on the issue. Although Hutchins's statement gave the appearance of bold leadersh ip, in fact the university had been the object of mounting pressure from civil rights groups.

Homer Jack chose an opportune momenta speech by Hutchins articu lating the wartime aims of education-to challenge the university on its racia lly discriminatory practices. The ch ief justifications for the war were Hitler's antidemocratic practices and racist ideo logy.

Even a man less prone to sweeping statements of moral principle would have had difficulty responding to Jack's challenge. If Hutchins was indeed unaware of the discrimination at the university, CORE offered this explanation: "Because the University is part of a larger dis-

RACE RESTRICTIVE COVENANTS CAUSE

BLIGHT

SPREAD OF SEGREGATION

FEAR AND DISTRUST

Above and below, images from Hemmed In, a pamphlet by the American Council on Race Relations, which argued that segregation itself causes blight.

Chicago HistOJy, Spring and S11111me1 1992

Unwelcome Neighbors cr iminatory community, the infiltration of this master-race ideology has probably been so slow and unnoticed that it has become more pernicious to the Univer ity's democratic id eals than its officia ls imagine."

Homer Jack met with the dean or faculties, E. C. Colwell, to present a documented cata log of the university's discriminatory practices. He claimed that the university admitted only a certa in number of j ewish and black students. ln addition, J ack had obta in ed files pertaining to the Hyde Park Property Owners Associ ation. They contained a balance sheet for a covenant case at Fifty-fourth and Maryland streets that showed the niversity of Chicago as a donor to the lega l fund. Once aga in the deception threatened to unravel, and the univers ity's image as a libera l institution came under increased scrutin y.

In response to CORE's comp la ints, Colwell argued that Hutchins's liberal philosophy did

not dominate all aspects or the university's activities. The university, he exp lained, consisted of three independent branches: the president, the comptro ll er, and the busine s manager. The president was in charge or faculty and administration, but the busine s manager controlled real e Late holdings.

Hutchins cou ld not speak on behalf of the university's real estate policy. CO RE found it hard to believe that Hutchins did not have more innuence on the board, but in fact, Hutchins had never controlled this aspect of the university's business. From this point on, comp laints about real estate practices were referred to the officers of the board, who had few pretensions to liberalism.

The university adm ini stration scurried to defend itself against charges of racial prejudice. The lack o[ black faculty members, Colwell noted, was because few African-Amer icans had earned doctorate degrees; it was not the

O/J/Jo.,ite ab01 1e, 5./00 block of Collage Grove rh 1enue, looking south, 1951. Photogra/Jh by Mildred ivlead. OPfJosite below, Jnoteste1:1 against segregation at the White City Roller Rink at SiYly-third St reel and Smtih Parkway, 1946. Above, filling .1tatio11.1 i1111ade a re.1idential arm 011e block jim11 l'l'as/zington Park at Collage Grove Avenue and Fifiy-seventh Street, 1951. Photogmj,h by Mildred Mead.

67

Unwelro111e Neighbon result or discrimination. Faculty appointments originated with the various departments and had to be approved by a ll three independent branches and by the board or trustees. Co lwell pointed to the university's efforts to in tegrate the campus, such as the laboratory schools, wh ich had voted to accept black e lementary schoo l students in June 1943. Men's and women's dormitories had been integrated, and Hutchins had forced the Reyno ld 's Club Barber Shop to serve African-Americans beginning in 1942.

In November 1944, the Special Committee on Community Interests was transferred to the Business Affairs Committee of the board, under the care of the hard-nosed director of war projects, Wilbur Munnecke. The board created another comm ittee, which included Harrell (the business manager), Lyndon Lesch (Harre ll 's ass istant), and Munnecke. Hutchins referred inquiries and criti cism to them. v\lhen th e board met with the Ch icago Plan Commission, Hutchins was not invited. Munnecke wrote to Hutchins of one young activist referred to him by the president: "He is a young chap convinced that he is going to reform the world thru sweetness and light, and the brotherhood or man . I am in favor of his objectives and disagree with his means. I think he shou ld be referred to me inasmuch a wastin g my time is not as serious as wasting yours (in your op ini on)."

The "young chap" exp lained that the Hyde Park-Kenwood Improvement Committee wanted to open the neighborhood to African-Americans but a lso wanted to prevent whites from neeing. They wanted the university to assist by preventing blight and promoting understanding. Munnecke agreed that African-Americans did not cause slums, and that covenants had failed both to prevent decay and to keep African-Americans out of white neighborhoods. The university had come a long way in race relations, he said, but it had to have a decent neighborhood, black or white. To Munnecke, this meant white.

As in the prewar period, Lesch , Munnecke, and l Jarrell refused to consider an integrated neighborhood as a solution to the dilemma they faced. Despite a growing sense or urgency Lo resolve the racial ituation , the uni\·ersity

adm ini strators adhered to a egregationist policy that th<::y knew was fai lin g. One memo, undated and unsigned , advocated a shift from covenants that restricted residency by race to "condition of occupancy" covenants. These agreements would have pre\'ented the owners from dividing homes into multiple apartments and have insisted on code enforcement. Letters from civi l rights organizations proclaimed racial change to be inevitable. When the Washington Park subdivision became a black neighborhood in J 944, university offic ials became alarmed about the number or rooming houses in Woodlawn. The university hired Donald Murphy to revitalize the community sp irit that was needed to keep interest in covenant enforcement alive. To prevent the white flight that could make enforcement irrelevant, the university sponsored projects to boost community pride. The WPOL planted one million chrysanthemums over five years Lo make Woodlawn a "Chrysanthemum Commu nity."

The university wielded its influence with Mayor Edward Kelly and received increased police protection and code enforcement.

In addition to the fai lin g covenant business, the comm ittee put its hopes in a revolving fund. Murphy managed a fund of five hundred thousand dollars to buy property in the neighborhood, renovate it, and resell it. Any loss in curred was not to exceed 5 percent of the principal invested annually. By replacing the losses annually, the members could claim the principal as an endowment. Because of wartime restrictions on building materials, the university first purchased property and rented it. After the government remo\'ecl the restrictions, the fund operated as intended and wa used to renovate and sell homes to stab ilize Woodlawn. o construction had occurred in the neighborhood for fifteen years, and 82 percent of the area's buildings were more than forty years o ld . In a comparable scheme, Co lumbia niversity spent over two million dollars during this same period to stabi lize the area between 114th and 120th streets in New York City. The comparatively small amount spent in Chicago during the 1940s may indicate a lack of resources rather than a lack of concern. In the 1950s, the trustees allocated four million dollars for this purpose.

69

Chicago Hist01y, Spring and Summer 1992

Danger••

Danger-•

Danger••

NEGROES OF CHICAGO Tenants•• Property Owners.. And Business Men ..

This is the Zero-Hour for Negroes Dont be Duped again by Lyers and Land-Grabbers who seek to herd you llke INDIANS or JEWS to Reservations or Consentratlon Camps in the Bad Land.

Wake up and fight, or suffer the fate of Indians or Jews.

The Handwriting is on the Wall, The Alarm is Sounding, Join in the Struggle to Save your homes. Let them Build Houses on Vacant Lots--- Don't let the Planers tear down the homes of the POOR-- To build for the RICH.

No Negro Home on the s. S. is Safe.

The master plan goes from 12th to63rd Mass Meeting • Lobby of City Hall

Friday March 18th -9:30 a. m.

Warning! Beware of Information Seekers spying for the Planers Attend P. K. L. Council Meeting Thursday Evening 8 p. m. We will tell you all about it, Be on time.

3•2• Cottage Grove Ave. TIN)ark lake Council, The Champioas, The Sotlth Siclt Property Owllen Alla., TN N1ialigl11noollCIYk lmprov1n111 1 Cl.I», T••ts and Home Owners, Englewood Citiz•s Protective Assn., Property 0wHn Alla., 43nl Clwk llodr YNtli Cliampiou, R. A. Crulley llodi Club, Jua.na SllewdN Council, Mothen •d IINsewiv•, Solltlisiclt Howill9 c...

•d 50 otlMr Organizlltlells.

This broadside protests the New l'o rk Life J11~11ra11ce Co111/1any \ construction of l.,ake ,\leadom1, a re.1idential develojm1e11t designed to attract 111iddle-class Africa11-A111ericans and whites to Chirago 's Blac/1 Belt. Built between 1953 and I 963, /he develop111ent disj1laced re.1ide11ts who would be unable lo afford to live in the new apartments.

70

Unwelcome Ne(g;hbo1:s

Tfu, ,wit estate policies set into motion late in the /Jresidency of Robert Hutchins (right) allowed Lc1wr!'nce Ki111J1to11 (left),

Hutchins's succes.1or, to slw/Je Hyde Park into an integrated co1mn1w ity.

Murph y a nd Munn ec ke used Lh e revolvin g fund to ma nage the acuLe pos twa r ho using sho rtage Lh a t Lh e n a Li o n a nd Lh e university faced . Th e hortage was so seve re th a t co mmuniLy groups p rotes te d cons tru cLi on o f th e uni\'ersit)"s admini stra ti o n buildin g as a misuse o f resources. At a tim e whe n buildin g cos ts we re hi gh , th e uni\'ers ity need ed m or e res iden ces. Vetera ns return ed to schoo l on th e GI Bill , whi ch in cr eased th e size o f th e stud e nt bod y. Th e number o f fac ulty me mbers g rew a lso, a nd skyrocke tin g pro p erly va lu es increased th e press ure o n the uni\'e rsity to provid e ho usin g. The admini strati o n pl a nn ed a fa cult) ho usin g p roj ect fo r th e a rea south of the lidwa)' Pl a isance, but th e)' st ill did no t a tte mpt to bu )' up \Voocll awn . Th e unive rsity boug hL pri o rit)' pl acem e nt fro m loca l rea ltors, whil e Murph y spe nt mos t o f hi s tim e findin g a partm ents fo r pro fesso rs.

Thus whe n th e Suprem e Court struck down restri ctive cove nants in 1948, th e university was ill-pre pared . J. A. Cunnin gha m, wh o re p laced Wilbur Munn ecke as vi ce-pres id ent for business, reco mm e nded that th e univer ity acquire a ll pro pe rty be tween Co ttage Grove Ave nue and Sto ney Isla nd Avenue from Sixtie th Street to Si xty-[irsL Street. But, he co ncluded, 'Th e h our is la te-very late." Und er Cunningham , th e unive rsit)' began to explore th e possibi liti es o f invo kin g e minent d o main to acquire p ro pe rty und er the Illinois Re deve lo pment Act. T hus, Cunning ham ini tia ted th e real esta te poli cies tha t e nabled Lawre nce Kimpton , wh o succeeded Hutchin s in 1952, to sha pe Hyd e Park inLo a n integr ated community.

Sociologist Edward Shils sa id tha t o ne of th e reaso ns that th e U ni\'ersity of Chicago slipped in th e tim e o f Hutchin s was th a t "the IQca l se ttin g o f' U of C was cha ng in g through o ut th e 71

Chicago H isto7)', S/Jring and Summer 1992 l 930's a nd l 940's, but Hutchin s did not wish to try to cope with th e situa ti on. " This is mi sleading . Other university admini stra tors tri ed to cope with the rac ial situa ti on in H yd e Pa rk and Woodlawn , but fa il ed . It ll'Ould be high praise fo r Hutchins to say th at he would ha\·e done better had he been more cl osely involved .

Hi s and others' failure to fo resee th e p oss ibility of a n integrated ne ig hborh ood is understandabl e, however, both in lig ht of th e preva iling se ntirn em s o f the time a nd by th e fact th a t even now Hyde Park re mains unique in this rega rd . Even tod ay, the unive rsity is unavoida bly a t odds with the surrounding neig hborhoods.

CORE sta ted th a t "the Uni versity of Chi cago has prestige beca use it sy mbo li zes knowled ge and ideals. It will not lose its prestige by a pplying them to th e so luti o n of social p roblems, but by refu sin g to a ppl y the m ." T he university clea rl y used its libe ra l re puta ti on to mask its di scriminatory po licies, but Hutchin s should no t be chided too much for professin g id eals from on high. T he civil rights movement finall y succeeded a t th e University of Chi cago beca use those who opposed the acti vists or ign ored the m shared liberal idea ls. T he university ultima tely rej ec ted Jim Crow p racti ces durin g this period when it a pplied thi s liberal phil osophy to its own socia l p roble ms.

Yet to simply foc us o n th e hypocrisy of uni versity offi cials would obscure th e tragedy of th e situ ati on . For the maj ority, who we re no t racist, the unive rsity's coven a nt poli cy res ted on th e assumpti on th a t with out th em th e instituti on would be threatened . T he cho ices were not as obvious as th e nascent civil ri g hts moveme nt imagin ed . If Munn ec ke sound ed j aded, th e stud ent activists so me times sounded hopeless ly naive. And a bl ac k Woodl awn hardly sign aled th e encl of housing sh ortages a nd suffering on the South Sid e or a n end to racial di scriminati o n. T he rea l issue was wh e th er or no t Am e ri can s through out th e na ti o n would live up to th eir cherished idea l of equ ality a nd justice. Though few could fo resee the integra ted communi ty tha t took ha pe under the heavy ha nd of Lawre nce Kimp ton , Hutchins's genuin e d edica ti on to th e life of the mind and th e spiri t of free inqui,-y, includin g th e quest for social justice, in th e e nd gave impe tus to the civil rights m oveme nt in C hi cago.

Fo r Further Readin g Land of Hoj1e: Chicago, Black Southerners, and the Grea t 1\ligralion by J a m es R. Gross m a n (C hi cago: The nive rsity of Chi cago Press, 1989) ex plo res th e in0u x o f Africa n-America n s into C hi cago in th e early twen ti e th centu ry. Two class ic studi es o r bl ack life in C hi cago a re St. C la ir Dra ke a nd H o race R. Carton 's Blac'1 Metropolis: A Study of Negro Life in a Northern City (New York: H a rp e r, Brace a nd Com pa ny, 1945) and All a n H . Sp ear's Blac k Chicago: The Making of a Negro Ghetto, 1890- 1920 (C hicago : Th e U niv e rsity of C hicago P ress, 1967) . An ea d y a nalysis o r th e prac ti ce o r res tri cti ve cove na nts in th e Was hin g to n Pa rk subdivi sio n is Fre d e ri c k B. Lindstro m 's "The Neg ro In vas io n o r th e Was hing to n Pa r k Su bd ivi sio n. " Ph .D. d isse rta ti o n , U ni ver sity o f Chi cago, 194 1. See a lso H o race R. Cayton's "Negro H o using in Chi cago, " Social Action (vo l. 6, n o. 4, 1940). For runh e r in forn1a ti o n o n b lack C hicagoa n's stru ggle ror civil r ig hts, see Core: A Study of thf Civil Rights 1\rlove111e11t, l 942- 1968 by Aug ust J\1e ie 1· a n d Elli o t Ru dw ick (New Yor k: O xfo rd U ni ve rsiLy Press, 1973). Arno ld Hirsc h 's The Making of the Second Ghetto (New York: Ca mbrid ge Uni ve rsity Press, I 983) is a broad study of th e iss ues o f race a n d ho using in C hi cago. Perso na l re minisce nces about the Le nure o r Robe rt May na rd Hu tc hin s a re fo un d in Hutchins ' University: A Memoir of the U11iversi/_\' of Chicago, 1929- 1950 (C hi cago: Th e Un ive rsity of Ch icago Press, 199 1) by \\'ill ia m II. 1ci e ill a n d

Remembering the U11i1•ersity of Chicago: Teachen, Scientist.1, and Scholan (C hi cago : T h e U ni versi ty o r C hi cago Press. I 99 l ), ed iLe d by Ed \\'ard Shils.

Illustra ti o ns 57, fro m Escape (un da ted), C J IS Li b rary; 58, fro m Social Action, vo l. \'I , no . 4 ( I 9..J.0), C H S L ib ra ry; 60 left, T he U ni vers ity of C hicago Li b raq•, De p a rtm e n r of Specia l Collect io n s; 60 inset, fro m Social Action, rn l. \'I , n o . ..J. (1940), C HS Li brary; 6 1, T h e Univers ity or C hicago Libra11 , Dcpartmem of Specia l Co ll ections; 62 , above and below, from Racial Re.1trictive Covenants (19..J.6) , C l IS Library; 63, T he U ni vers ity or Ch icago L ibra 1y , De partm e nt of Specia l Collenio ns; 64-65, f-le111111ed / 11: ABCs a/Race Restrictir,e Housing Covena11l.1 ( 1945) , C HS Libra ry; 66 above, C H S Pr ints a nd Ph o tograph , Coll ecti o n ; 66 be low, C H S, IC Hi - J 7209; 67, C HS Pr inLs a nd Photogr ap hs Co ll ec tio n ; 68, C l IS, D i -P-!457; 70, C hi cago Urban League Records, Specia l Coll ecti o ns, T he Uni ver sity Li braq•, T he U ni versity of Illino is a t C hi cago; 7 1, Th e U ni vers ity o f C hi cago L ibraq·, Depa rtm e nt or Specia l Coll ecti o ns.