Volume 8 - Issue 3

Volume eight, number three December 12, 1974

BREWSTER: A SPECIAL ISSUE "The change fronl. Grisvvold · "WBB iiDtnediately noticeable ... as Brewster's presidency began with the Inost elaborate · cerelllony ever seen at conse1vative old Yale.

Charles, it seeill.ed, - 'W8B SUCCCe1ng d. erOlD."Wen •,,

-·

"'---page 2

The NewJournal!December 12, 1974

_____________ conanaent _________________ TheNewJournal Volume eight, number three

A note from the editor

Robert A Cohen Business Manager

A frequently asked question these days is "When will Kingman Brewster step down?" Rumor has it that he will depart soon. The Yale he leaves will be vastly different from the one he inherited in 1963. We hope that this issue of The New J oumal will cause people to reflect on how Yale has changed in the last decade. Brooks Mather Kelley, the author of the main article, gradua· ted from Yale in 1953 Sl!.d received his Ph.D. in history from the University of Chicago in 1960. Last March he published Yale, A History, which ended with A. Whitney Griswold's death. Kelley realizes the risks invol· ved in analyzing a current presidency.

He admits, "Over a period of time, some things I have stressed in my article may not seem as important as they do now."

The New Journal will set aside space in its next issue for responses to the Brewster article.

Brian D. Raub Pubwher

Our brother's thinker?

David Sleeper Editor-in-Chief Daniel Denton EJC.ecutiue Editor Stephen Sternbach Managing Editor Marla Schay Designer Michael Jacobson Associate Editor Nancy Olcott Circulation Manager

On May 5, 1972, John McGuerty, Director of the New Haven City Plan Department, went to Yale's Woodbridge Hall to discuss with Yale officials the plans for two new residential colleges which the university hoped to build on Grove and Temple Streets. He was anxious Ccntributing editors: Ronald.Roel. Stuart for the meeting; McGuerty wanted Rohrer, Steven R. WeisJD811, Daniel Yergin to assure, among other things, that the new buildings would not disrupt the surrounding area. But when he Credits: Doug Suisman: cover entered Woodbridge's second-floor Yale University News Service: page 2 Corporation Room he found laid out Roger Ressmeyer: page 3 on the long table a minutely detailed ~Yale Banner: pagee•,9, 11 scale model of the proposed complex.

From the first, McGuerty had objections to the model, but theY ale ofThe NewJour714l is published by the New ficials present made it clear to him Jrumalat Yale, Inc., partners in publication with the Yale Banner, Inc., and is printed at that the plans were in a very ad· Chronicle Printing Co., North Haven, Conn. vanced stage and could only be Distributed free to the Yale community. For changed at great expense. The uniallothers, subscription rate$7.50 per year. versity would begin its final working Cq>yrigbt C by TheNewJrurnalatYale, llx., a non-profit organizaticn. Letters and drawings and construction, he was UD90licited manuscripts welcome. M32 Yale told, as soon as the New Haven Statioo..New Haven, Conn. 06520.

Aldermen approved the plan.

Poone .S2.0271 or •36-8650.

But the Aldermen never approved the plan and the university has temporarily laid plans for the two (!()Il~Ilt~--------------c-o_ll_e_ g__ ~ to __res __t_.T __ he_ m_·_o_·d-en _ t_ in __th __ e_ Staff: Jean Benefield, Jim Bick, Carol Eliel, Angus Gepha.r t, Eric Kueffner, Sandy Lee, L. Buck Levin, Bob Lichte, Frank Martin, Reginald Miller, Naomi Pierce, Justin Radolf, Tony Segall, Jon Steinberg, Michael Sullivan, Ed Troncelliti, Larry Yang

comment: Michael Jacobson discusses the troubling Yale-New Haven relationship during Kingman Brewster's administration; John Etra ponders the moral and aesthetic implications ofa hatless Brewster.

3 The Brewster Years: A Question of Survival Brooks Mather KeUey A history of Kingman Brewster's Yale

Corporation Room underlines anum· ber of themes in the recent history of Yale-New Haven relations. Most important has been the lack of continuous dialogue between the univer· sity and the city engendered by what has been, until quite recently, Yale's insensitivity to New Haven's needs.

Among the things Kingman Brewster inherited from President A. Whitney Griswold was a cordial relationship with then Mayor of New Haven, Richard C. Lee. It was a val· uable relationship. During the 1950's and early 1960's, Yale benifited more from Lee's nationally heralded urban renewal program than did most New Havenites. Lee's first project, the Oak Street slum clearance, paved the way for the expansion of the Yale Medical School. In 1955, Yale paid New Haven well above the market price to have the Hillhouse and Boardman Commercial High Schools removed from the spot where Stiles and Morse Colleges now stand.

Lee accomplished his renewal pro· gram by creating a parallel govern· ment of appointed bureaucrats, thus short-circuiting any input from the city's traditional power bases (the Democratic Party machine), and the community. Consequently, neither Griswold nor Brewster, who became president in 1963, had to deal with those groups either. They simply worked with Lee or his bureaucrats.

The fast-paced, feaerally funded days of urban renewal also allowed the university to ~porarily push aside what had always been a divi· sive issue between Yale and New Haven: the issue of taxation.

In 1967, the black neighborhoods Lee had neglected for so long rioted.

Although riots occurred nationally that summer, two- issues were unique to New Haven. The black leaders demanded a larger say in Lee's program, and insisted that Yale do something for the people of ~ ew Haven, whom, the leaders said, the university had totally neglected. The latter claim was not entirely true.

Since 1965 Yale had sponsored such programs as the U.S. Grant Foundation, theYale Summer High School,

and the Intensive Summer Studies Program (ISSP)-all helping disad· vantaged youths. These programs, however, reflected actions by indi· viduals within theYale community.. rather than official university policy.

In 1968, Yale had plans for further physical expansion, but still no coordinated policy for dealing with New Haven's needs.

In response to community pres· sure in New Haven and to growing urban problems in the nation at large, President Brewster acknowledged in 1968 that Yale did have an obligation to its urban community.

Nevertheless, he put limits on where that obligation could lead Yale. Sinee becoming president, Brewster had stressed that Yale's "mission" in the world was to be a sanctuary for scholars and students. In the late 1960's, Brewster felt Yale's "mission" challenged by a soCiety which wished to use universities to solve social problems. Brewster feared, as bad Griswold, that Yale would become a "service station" for needy com· munity groups. Yale could never help all those groups, Brewster as· serted, and so he felt Yale should take on only those tasks that would not divert it from its central purpose.

"We are, in short," Brewster wrote in 1968, "best equipped to be our brother's thinker." Through scholarly enterprises like the proposed Insti· tution for Social and Policy Studies, Brewster felt Yale would pioneer in devising theories to solve the national problem of urban blight. Aft, a theory, Brewster's idea was per· haps noble. But for a university which owned 36 per cent of the tax exempt land, was the city'slargest employer, and whose students were rapidly devouring the city's housing, the concept of being "our brother's thinker" was entirely inadequate.

Brewster sought to implement his ideas about Yale and New Haven by establishing in 1968 the Council on Community Affairs. Directed by C. Tracy Barnes ('33), the 12-man coun· cil was charged with establishing links with the community and devising a strategy for dealing with the city. From the beginning there were serious problems with the Council. Apparently because of Brewster's concern with Yale's "mission" and because of his tenden· cy to view the situation in national terms, he was reluctant to appoint men to the Council familiar with the community. With few exceptions, Brewster appointed sons of Eli who had acquired reputations either at Yale or nationally. Only Ernest Osborne, who had been with theRedevelopment Agency, Herbert Cahoon, Director of Yale Volunteer Services, and Samuel.Slie, an as(continued on page 14)

The Brewster Years : A Question of Survival by ijrooks Mather Kelley

A. Whitney Griswold, the sixteenth leader of served as chairman of the News, been tapped for Skull and Bones (which he refused because he disYale, died of cancer on April19, 1963. Under the Yale Corporation's by-laws the recently appointed approved of the secrecy of senior societies), and provost, forty-three year old Kingman Brewster, selected by his class as the one "who had done Jr., became acting president. He was, as well, the most for Yale. " After service as a navy pilot leading candidate for head of the university, and it in World War II, Brewster had attended Harvard was rumored that Griswold had wanted him to Law School and then, after a brief tour with the have the post. Despite Brewster's pre-eminence Marshall Plan and a period at M.I.T., he had reas a candidate, the Corporation spent the spring turned to Harvard to serve on the faculty. He had and summer studying the nature of the office and been brought to Yale in 1!}60 as¡provost by his seeking nominees. Having made all the necessary summer neighbor on Martha's Vineyard, Whitney motions (whether they were real or symbolic will Griswold. not be known until the committee records are Brewster believed deeply in freedom, responopened many years from now), the Corporation sibility, and the need to make moral choices. elected Kingman Brewster president in October He thought success should be related to effort and 1963. that the fullness of life could be measured by the The new president appeared in many ways to extent to which a man felt he had an impact on the fit the traditional mold of a leader of Yale. Of lives of others. He was convinced a leader should impeccable lineage (a descendant of the famous act decisiv~ly. Withal, he was fundamentally a Brewster of the Mayflower), he had attended Yale, pragmatist. Unlike most of his predecessors in the presidential office, he was ttot an intellectual.

As he confessed to Time magazine, "I get more stimulation by talking to people than by retreating to the library-it's out of the hurly-burly that I get my ideas." The change from Griswold was noticeable. Time observed that Brewster was "an ear-wearying speaker whose official utterances are frequently pedantic and dull." They were sometimes repetitive in content as well. His written reports often lacked clarity and eloquence.

In small groups the president was at his besthere his wit, intelligence, and sense of fun could come quickly to the fore. Although he later largely overcame the failings in his speaking and writing, those shortcomings-along with a somewhat naive assumption that Yale's greatness needed no selling to anyone-were rapidly to complicate his relations with the always powerful alumni of Yale College.

Those difficulties were hidden in the future, however, as Brewster'a presidency began with the most elaborate inaugural ceremony-even including a ball in Ingalls Rink-ever seen at conservative old Yale. Charles, it seemed, was succeeding Cromwell.

1 The bonanza years Kingman Brewster's goal for Yale, as he soon made clear, was to make it the very best in everything it tried to do, and to justify its existence by sharing its greatness with others via television and other modem devices. He wanted to make sure that Yale had as great an impact on the generation to come as it had on the generation past. To these ends, he intended to organize it well, to see that it used its existing financial and intellectual resources to the full, and to increase those resources to enable it to do more things better.

One of Brewster's first efforts was to modernize university organization. During the Griswold era the university's expenditures had grown from $15 million to nearly $50 million, but administrative development had lagged behind the rapid change. No doubt the university was better organized than it had been in Charles Seymour's day nearly 30 years before (when the president could still take the time to personally reject a request from the dean of Yale College for $300 to purchase maps for teaching), but there still remained much to do to bring the institution under

., The New Journal/December 12, 1974

$600,000 deficit was dismissed as "not itself a matter for sharp concern."

In fact, it should have been a matter of the Thus under the president's direction, Howard very deepest concern, for Yale had failed to recall Phelan was hired from Arthur Little & Co. to become Director of Operations, new business person- the parable of the seven fat years and the seven nel were employed, and major changes were made lean years. The university's period of prosperity in the treasurer's office. The chart of accounts was rapidly coming to a close. The stock market began to fall, tax reform proposals dangerous to was revised and computerized, thereby increascolleges dependent on charity were in the air, goving the number of individual university accounts ernment policies were about to change, inflation from 15,000 to 65,000 (the number has now reached 100,000). By 1972 the Office of Adminiswas increasing rapidly, and the alumni were betrative Data Systems was using the computer to coming constantly more discontented over certain such an extent that it cost $1.2 million a year.

Yale policies.

These changes and others were all intended to Not until1968-69 did the treasurer begin to reveal just what total amount was expended in recognize that Yale's deficits were not due only to running the university and where the money went. rising expenses or minor accounting errors, but to In the past, certain expenditures with offsetting "short-falls in estimates of income, attributable ill income (largely government sponsored research) some measure to over-optimism." Increasingly had been netted in the treasurer's reports; now all large deficits were predicted for the years imme¡ transactions were shown. Because of these new diately ahead. Cut-backs began to be made in techniques, university expenditures which were numerous areas. "Significant" reductions in shown as $57 million in 1964-65 apparently "activities both academic and administrative" jumped to $79 million in 1965-66-actual expenwere predicted. Due to over-optimism the uniditures increased nowhere near as much. versity now faced the future with the deepest Another highly significant step was an atgloom. tempt to use the endowment more fully and freely.

The endowment fund managers were to be allowed to spend not only income but a part of capital gains. The fund's managers would then be reFrom optimism to alarm leased from the need to invest for income and could pUfchase growth stocks providing little or no immediate return. To get more knowledgeable hanYale's problems were not hers alone (many dling of the funds, the university set up its own other private universities were in even worse investment counseling firm, owned half by the shape), but some of the reasons were peculiar to university and half by the firm 's active managers. Yale. As far as the general situation was con-The new directors of Yale's finances (inside cerned, for years Griswold and others had warned the university and out) were incredibly optimistic that the universities were not making their true about their methods. They were convinced they costs clear to the public. Furthermore, they noted could show everyone else how best to handle a uni- that the people called for education but were not _versity's funds. The president was ~guineas willing to pay the real price for it. The temper of well. Shortly after Brewster took office he saw alarm in academic circlee dropped off somewhat many things he wanted to do immediately. Picking up a phrase of Griswold's, he began to speak of Yale's "educational deficit," by which be meant "the best estimate of your officers and trustees about how much more it would cost annually to bring Yale to a standard of educational quality completely worthy of her best traditions and potential.'' To begin to overcome the educational 1 deficit, Brewster did not think it unwise to suffer, for a time, a financial deficit. The university he inherited was after all, more prosperous than it had ever been. In any case, to begin to do the things that needed doing, Yale immediately started practicing deficit spending. In 1963-64, the gap between income and ~nse amounted to $540,265 and was projected for over a million dollars in 1964-65. As Brewster explained, these deficits reflected "a deliberate Corporate judg~ent that Yale will be stronger in the long run if we make certain operating improvements now, even though it may diminish slightly our pool of unrestricted capital for the future."

Thus it was that during what were later called "the bonanza years" Yale's expenditures went from a " new" accounting $79 million in 1965-66 to $125 million in 1969-70. At the same time, the university suffered a deficit every single year (though university officials never mention a deficit prior to 1966-67). In 1966-67, when there was a deficit of $300,000,-the smallest deficit between 1963-64 and 1972-73-thetreasurerwrote, "An Operating Surplus evidences lack of achievement rather than good management if educational quality can be improved." And the following year a control and see that it did not waste its financial

resources.

2

during the prosperous days of the late fifties and sixties, only to rise again late in the decade. In June 1967 Time magazine noted that "Behind the impressive facades of most private universities and colleges there is a deep concern_ They are in grave financial trouble." While his treasurer was still talking optimistically in his reports, Brewster was quoted as saying that Yale "has never had a more difficult financial prospect." The university was said to be facing "an annual operating deficit of more than $15 million by 1977." Many others, thought in one way or another that the private universities were facing " imminent bankruptcy."

Yale's administration had seen the need for aggressive fund-raising very early_ In November 1964 the university revealed that it wanted consi¡ derably more than $100 million in capital funds, without even including necessary programs for the Divinity, Drama, and Music Schools. Areas of importance were additional library space, a building for engineering and applied sciences, and massive expenditures for the Medical School.

Very high on the list of priorities at this time was a great new social science building. As Brewster viewed the "strategy" of the universitv-a favorite approach of the president's-he thought be saw a great breakthrough coming in the social and behavioral sciences. Yale must develop those areas, he believed, if it were not to be left behind as it had been in the scientific explosion of the 1920's and 1930's.

The 1964 needs were merely a preliminary estimate. As Yale's new managers ("technocrats of the educational world," Professor Paul W eis called them) studied the university's needs over the next ten years, the figures grew and grew. By 1967 they had decided that Yale must raise nearly a billion dollars from all sources over the next ten years. Of this amount the alumni fund would have to come up with nearly $45 million, and gifts from private sources for endowment and facilities must

I

The NewJoumal/December 12,1974

page5

0 1974, G.B. Trud•ulcliatribut.ed by Unlvenal P.-.. Synd.lcate

reach $388 million (later raised to $443 million after Yale College became coeducational). This great sum, Brewster announced, was "The Cost of Quality."

Yale intended to raise the needed funds not by " primary" reliance on a crash campaign (though not announced, one was planned to begin about 1970), but by seeking out "the several hundred members of each generation whose assets would allow them to be philanthropists of capital significance." If these men would remember Yale's "significance to them and believe in her significance to the nation," the university would achieve its enormous goal.

There was, however, one sizeable difficulty standing between Yale and the great achievements her imaginative, creative, and courageous managers foresaw. The university was losing the support of a significant part of the Yale College alumni.

3 A sizeable neglect Every Yale president has to deal with various constituencies-the students, the faculty, the alumni, the city of New Haven, the state, the federal government, the public at large. The interests of these groups (as well as their capacity, or desire, for trouble-making) are often dissimilar, and balancing their demands is a difficult political feat. At first, Brewster appears to have been most interested in the concerns of faculty and students-towards the end of the sixties, the students were to overshadow everyone else. The president began by showing a somewhat arrogant disregard for the concerns of the alumni of Yale College and often seemed to take their support for granted. Public relations, when practiced at all, consisted of "splashy" appointments which would make headlines in the New York Times. Still, Yale might have kept the support of its graduates had not other factors combined to alienate them and to confirm their distrust of the president.

Admissions procedures, as they had earlier in the century, became a point of sizeable controversy. Brewster had inherited from Griswold's era a powerful and persuasive program for the future of Yale College in the Freshman Year Report of 1962.

In addition to calling for coeducation, one of its key recommendations had been for the admission of a much more intellectually oriented student body. President Brewster appears to have accepted most of the recommendations of the reportindeed, it became nearly a blueprint for his approach to the College. In his first appearance before a Yale club, he announced that academic excellence was Yale's primary business and therefore it must seek out those with the highest intellectual and moral capacities. This message could not have been a popular one with many "Old Blues," for Yale's alumni, as a little research would have shown the president, have always valued character over intellect.

N evertheless, Brewster plunged ahead. With his goal of a more scholarly student body linked with a policy (voted in May 1963) of financial aid for anyone who needed it, there soon occurred a striking change in the student body. In 1960, 26 per cent of the class admitted were alumni sons. Seven years later only 14 per cent of the class admitted were the sons of alumni.

Throughout the 1950's, students from private

H()(.'{/'1r>Se5, WfiA, YW

t-001\ IJ r A U rHOS& INSIPIP rACCS.7/ 17/c THIN6S I: HAV& ro PO

-ro II&~P H Y

RVIIII///1161

tJIII/t/~/Z51TY ~

schools made up over 50 per cent of every class.

By 1967 this group had dropped to 38 per cent.

Another major change, produced by the civil rights movement, was the addition of blacks. In the class of 1962, just three had been admitted; the class of 1973 contained 96 black men and women. Many graduates tended to viewYale as ''their'' college and were outraged over these changes. Perhaps the bitter pill might have been made more palatable if it had been offered to them more slowly, with some skill, and a certain amount of sugar coating. Instead, the university's young Dean of Admissions, R. Inslee Clark (B.A. 1957), tended to make what some felt were ill-considered statements, which infuriated alumni and private school administrators alike. At the same time, Yale seemed to make a conscious effort to conceal the fact that alumni sons still had a better chance of being accepted in the college than their less favored schoolmates.

By October 1966 the annoyance of Yale graduates was so obvious that Brewster was forced to defend the admissions procedures in the Yale Alumni Magazine and the Alumni Board felt called upon to investigate the whole question.

Unfortunately, the board's report, which appeared in 1967, did nothing to dispel alumni anger.

The chairman of the committee concluded, "it appears that Yale's administration is providing the leadership, foresight and facilities to handle today's problems and enable Yale to maintain its tradition of excellence." Few alumni believed him.

The alumi, in fact, may no longer have been capable of being persuaded. Too much more was happening that disturbed them.

4 Women, radicals, and ROTC Part of the problem undoubtedly was due to a series of things done by Yale and men at Yale of which the largely conservative alumni disapproved. First, the University Chaplain, William .

Sloane Coffin, made newspaper headlines as a peripatetic warrior in the civil rights confrontations of the early 1960's. Then, Martin Luther King was given an honorary degree in 1964.

After that, the divisive war in Vietnam began to cause problems at Yale, just as it did in the country at large. Here again, Coffin was in the front rank, but this time he shared the limelight with an attractive young assistant professor of history, Staughton Lynd. An outspoken proponent of the New Left, Lynd was already a subject of controversy when he took a trip to Hanoi with Herbert Aptheker and Thomas Hayden over Christmas 1965 to attempt to clarify North Vietnam's peace terms. Brewster reacted by pushing the powers of his office as far-per-

A P£eP "RESPex:r FO!Il rNe PVTVIE!6 ~

HI6Nele.

EPVC~Jr10/11.1

\

haps even farthet:-than he legitimately could: he called Lynd to his office to try to discover if the young teacher was sincere in his opinions.

This action scarcely satisfied many Yale alumni.

Forgetting the fact that the university had a greater responsibility to protect the rights of freedom of speech and action than a business corporation, they called for Yale to fire Coffin and Lynd.

As the war in Vietnam dragged on and created ever-deepening divisions between Americans, so it also increasingly divided the university from its graduates. When Coffin was indicted in January 1968 (along with Benjamin Spock [B.A. 1925] and others) for conspiring to persuade young men to give up their draft cards, and then was reappointed University Chaplain while still under indictment, many graduates felt that their worst fears about Yale had been justified. That Lynd was not reappointed by the history depart· ment, that same year, received no acclaim.

As if all these problems were not enough, Yale announced in the fall of 1968 that it would admit 500 women as undergraduates the next year. To some alumni this action marked the end of old Yale.

The story of Yale's move to coeducation is long and complex, but the major points worth noting are that after the Freshman Year Report of 1962 recommended the admission of women, little was done until the spring of 1966.

Then, President Brewster announced that the corporation had laid down certain guidelines which were to control future deliberations on the subject: the corporation did not favor admitting women if it meant reducing the number of male undergraduates; the admission of women must be underwritten by sufficient funds to maintain the quality of the university; and, if studies indicated the desireability of coeducation, the corporation preferred it to be achieved by means of a coordinated woman's college, rather than by the expansion of Yale College.

(Strangely, Brewster's H'72 memorandum on coeducation says the corporation never discussed the matter until1967).

In December 1966 it was revealed that Yale had invited Vassar to study the possibility of moving to New Haven. But the migration was not to be. In the face of large-scale alumnae opposition, Vassar decided on November 20, 1967 to remain in Poughkeepsie. Brewster, though expressing disappointment, said that the studies with Vass ar had at least clarified Yale's thinking about the problem and given some specific idea of the cost. One thing was certain, he declared, and it was that coeducation would come to Yale in the form of a coordinate college which would allow Yale to " educate women not as a direct by-product of educating men.' ' One year later the impatient Yale studenLo.;

page6

many people wondered if Yale might not have moved with a bit more forethought.

Hardly had theY ale alumni had time to adjust to the stunning news of coeducation than they were greeted by another startling piece of information. On January 30, 1969 the Yale College faculty voted 116 to 28 to remove the academic status of Army and Navy R.O.T.C. and make 1) equal admission for men and women for them extracurricular activities. The programs the class of 1973; 2) a limited number of had always lacked intellectual rigor (General · transfer students to be added to the classes Westmoreland said, "Hell, we don't even give of 1970, 1971, and 1972; and 3) active re· academic credit for military courses at West cruitment of female faculty with equal opporPoint"), but the faculty's action in the midst of tunity for advancement. the Vietnam war turned a long needed curricular revision into a political act. Many alumni were On that very day, November 9, 1968, though outraged: "Whatever has happened to 'For the students did not know it, the Corporation God, for Country, and for Yale'?" was a constant voted to admit women toY ale College. On theme of their letters to the alumni magazine.

November 14, the college faculty gave their apAll of these shocks to Yale's alumm were proval. Five hundred women, it was ailnounced, taking place, of course, at the same time that a would be admitted in the fall of 1969 on an experi- change in generations was bringing students with mental-basis. The extra cost toYale would be met different dress, different hair, different life styles, by tuition and fee charges. It appears, from and different outlooks to the college. The new various later explanations of President Brewster, undergraduates were part of a generation that as late as October 1968 he still believed in a · which had known little but peace and prosperity coordinate college approach, but the Corporation until the United States became involved in Vietwanted to be sure whatever was done could be nam. Hence their perspective tended to be easily conve~ to total coeducation. "As a result incredibly different from that of alumni who had of this Corporation meeting and ensuing discuslived through world wars and depressiQn. These sions with colleagues," Brewster wrote, he shifted new students not only looked and thought differfrom the coordinate approach to full coeducation. ently, but to the horror of.the alumni they He was convinced, it appears, by the experience of smok~ marijuana, used LSD, and who knew Radcliffe, Pembroke, and the Princeton study of what other forms of mind distorting substances. coeducation. To the Princeton Study, Brewster WithYale's changed admission procedures it said, "we owe a great debt." It seems possible became easy for alumni to place the blame for that Brewster feared Princeton might somehow what was plainly a generational question on get ahead of Yale.

Kingman Brewster.

In any case, the die was cast. Nearly every All the bitter discontent that had been buildguideline the Corporation had laid down three ing up in many a Yale alumnus was expressed years before had been broken. Without money, in December 1969 by Julien Dedman (B.A. 1948) without buildings, without, indeed, much specific in a pamphlet entitled The Rape of Yale. planning (it was not even known where the women Dedman fulminated at length about the students, would live), President Brewster, the Yale Corpora- especially their slovenly appearance an!i "the arotion, the college faculty, and the students plunged ma of 'pot'" on campus. He blamed it all on eagerly into the unkowns of coeducation. When Brewster's appointment of R. Inslee Clark. within a short time the problems of overcrowding, Dedman also cried out against the university's qu~tas, and "male chauvinism" began to appear, "radicalism," which could be seen in the presence of Coffin and Lynd, the "defense" of draft dodgers (they were to be readmitted on the same /1/ow_ HR VR/11 HilDeN_ terms as those who withdrew for military service), 115 I 111/Pe/l.S/AII/P IJ; Y{)():R.8 IJ/ie:J2£'$7lf0 the anti-war stand of many of Yale's faculty, the IN CCWill/BvrJNG activities of the Drama School (especially the R st16S'TRNr/IU.. appearance there o( the Living Theater), the 7'tJ me VNJtfe~rry.. \. "rude reception" Ronald Reagan had received at Yale, the banning of George Wallace as a speaker (at the time of a New Haven city election), the removal of academic credit for R.O.T.C., and the arrogant emasculation of Yale by the ad~ mission of women "without any consultation £. with the alumni groups on whom Yale depends for financial support." Yale, Dedman concluded, had 1 t been betrayed "under the guise of a misguided fllsr L-EAlie :r'u- JVsr 'liberalism.'" ~ rr ro He, s1~! ~ Pvr you Certainly to the Dedmans among the Yale ~ ~":,f:t~y IV/INNA ~N;{:J alumni no change at Yale would have been j Wlu.. Be GIY~ ¥!ZO-Ilf1EIWW welcome. Many other less alienated alumni ., W/Se~Y A I !'1206~1-1.. srvo1e5 criticized Yale because of a basic lack of underA 51'8'/T.' li 1 6YH. \ standing of a university and its functions. ~ 1 But Brewster, on the other hand, does not seem to have been sufficiently attuned to alumni feeling. ~ Even if many of the graduates were wrong or ~ misguided or simply out of touch, he and his aides should have realized that the "credibility gap" &_ they knew had developed was in fact b ased on a 8 a..:.:.:.~~...:......:..,_:..._=-.::.:::...__, L!!b~~~::.._;L_J~~cJ real lack of honest, straight-forward communicadecided to try a bit of coeducation on their own.

They held a coeducation week from November 4 to November 11, 1968. On November 6, Brewster told them, "by 1972... there will be women at Yale." Three days later, tlie president received a petition from 1700 students and visiting coeds requesting:

1

l

The New Journal/December 12, 1974

tion. Brewster might have done well to study some advice of Griswold's. The president has a duty not only to raise money, he had said, but an even greater responsibility to educate the patrons of the university in its purposes: "The reason some institutions have forged ahead of others is that they have been more enterprising and more successful in this mission.'' This responsibility Brewster had failed to accomplish.

The inability or un~gness to educate the alumni, and their increa.s ing restiveness, may not have seemed very worrisome at first. The university's fund-raising strategy was directed to a few large donors. As long as they could be convinced, all seemed well. But then in 1970 the treasurer reported that a major cause of Yale's deficit that year was a "shortfall" in the alumni fund. This failure he put down to "overoptimism about what the war classes of 19451945W could do in spite of the lack of a noirnal college life." Since the alumni fund, like every part of the university's income, had been projected by the university's optimistic managers to grow at a certain set rate (about 9 per cent) every year, and future budgets were planned on the basis of that growth, the failure was an ominous one. It was especially so because, Treasurer John Ecklund said, ''the prospect of the shortfall did not become known until late in May, 1970, therefore the same problem carried forward to the budget for 1970-71."

The last sentence was a revealing one. For April and May 1970 had produced one of the more traumatic experiences in Yale's long history. It seems likely that the events surrounding May Day 1970 in New Haven, when combined with an already very high level of discontent, had a great deal more to do with the alumni fund's failure than the lack of a normal college life for the members of the classes of 1945 and 1945W.

5 May Day

1~70

The "strike" of late April and early May 1970 appears to have been the swan.s ong for the Yale student generation of the 1960's. It occurred against a background of rising student activism at the university. Though Yale had remained comparatively peaceful throughout the period of increasing violence at the universities which began in 1964-avoiding the crises which struck most noticeably at Berkeley, Columbia, Cornell, Sail Francisco State, Chicago, and Harvard- it had had its moments of excitement tinged with fear. The spring of 1969 had 5Elen the first critical period when there had been cries for changes in Yale University governance (especially to give the students a greater voice) and, much more for~fully, a call for the complete ejection of the reserve officers training programs from the campus. This last demand had reached its peak at a mass meeting of the university where a resolution to deny the military programs any place at Yale ended in a staggering 1286-1286 tie vote.

As the Yale Alumni Magazine observed, "It was as ·if a giant balloon had been popped."

The months of May and June 1969 were also marked by demonstrations at the Art and Architecture School over inadequate financial aid to students, what students felt was a lack of consultation over the selection of a chairman for the art department, and finally, the crisis in the I

TheNewJoumal!December 12,1974

;J

city planning department. This last situation occurred when the department admitted students for the fall of 1969 without the required consultation with the dean of Art and Architecture. The president then stripped the chairman of the department of his administrative responsibilities and sent letters to the students so admitted advising them not to come to Yale for city planning since the future of that department was in doubt.

Great activity that spring on the part of the president-almost nightly he attended meetings in the various residential colleges-no doubt played an important part in keeping any issue from reaching the level of a cause celebre and Yale completed the academic year 1968-69.peacefully. Then disaster struck. Shortly after the departure of most students for the summer, "a mysterious and devastating fire swept through three floors of the Art and Architecture building dUring the early morning hours of June 14,, as the Yale Alumni Magazine reported. Though arson was immediately suspected, a six week investigation by the fire department produced no evidence of it. Still, the possibility lingered for the investigation produced no indication of what had caused the blaze.

Hardly had the academic year 1969-70 gotten under way when the Law School became embroiled in problems. Complaints by black students of police harassment and the failure of the university to intervene with what the blacks thought was sufficient energy produced first the disruption of a few classes and finally a boycott of classes by about half the student body. That crisis (and the interminable meetings which always accompanied these affairs) was just drawing to a close, when the college was alarmed by the occupation of the personnel supervisor's office and incarceration there of four university officials. This contretemps had been produced by the Students for a Democratic Society in a demonstration against what they considered the ¡university's ill-treatment of a black waitress who either quit (the dining hall manager's story) or was fired (she said) after a dispute with a white bursary student in which she tossed a glass of orange juice in his face.

As in the other situations, sensitive treatment of the problem by university officials prevented an explosion, but theY ale College faculty showed its riSing impatience with student activism. When the college executive committee let the students off with only probation, tlie faculty was extremely annoyed.

They met three times to discuss the handling of the incident and then, failing even to refer to the action of the executive committee, went on record as expecting that "physical restriction, coercion, or intimidation of any member" of the university would "ordinarily result in temporary or permanent separation from the college."

It was with this background of events, combined with deep-felt concern throughout the university over the war in Vietnam, the My Lai atrocities, the 1968 election (and especially the Democratic convention), the trial of the Chicago 7, and what appeared in newspaper reports to be an attempt by the police to eradicate the Black Panthers, that the Alex Rackley case broke on New Haven. Rackley, a New Haven Black Pantlier, had been found dead near Middlefield, Connecticut- his body bullet-riddled and bearing torture marks. Police thereupon rounded up various New Haven Panthers. Bobby Seale,

page7

National Chairman of the party, was picllced California on an extradition warrant c~tar~~g with ordering Rackley's death.

The Rackley case (or that of the New Haven 9, as some called it) began to produce concern and discontent during the winter of 1970. In part this situation was caused, as John Hersey (B.A. 1936), the Master of Pierson College, explained in his Letter to the Alumni, by an outfit calling itself the Panther Defense Committee, led by a white radical from New York named Thomas Dostou, joined by a few Yale dropouts, [which] set itself up in town and began making statements, some of them violently provocative, about the trial, and in due course it announced that, with the support of the seven defendants (besides Seale) in the Chicago conspiracy trial, a huge rally would be held on May 1 with the ominously stated purpose of "ending" the trial.

Beginning about the middle of April, the level of concern began to rise at Yale. Meetings were held, attended by William Kunstler, lawyer for the Chicago 7, Doug Miranda, captain of the New Haven Panthers, Big Man {Elbert HQward), the Panther's Deputy Minister of Information, and Artie Seale, Bobby's wife. As the content of the rhetoric became increasingly violent, the judge in the case, Harold Mulvey, over-reacting to a generally tense situation, sentenced David Hilliard and Emory Davis, two national Black Panther leaders, to six months in jail for contempt of court because of a trivial incident. "And so," as Hersey well put it, "the mindset was prepared for confrontational hysteria."

The release of Hilliard and Douglas a few days later, after they had apologized to Judge Mulvey, did little to quiet concern. Nor did Chaplain Coffin's declaration that the trial might be legally right but morally wrong and his call for a non-violent march on the courthouse.

Amass meeting of students was held at Ingalls Rink the night Hilliard and Douglas were released (April 21 ), to discuss going out on strike to protest against the trial. The meeting of some 4500 to 5000 students was marked by an element of hysteria in the audience, a clash between the crowd and Hilliard {when he said there was nothing wrong with killing police), and Hilliard's

body guards "roughing up" an overly excited architecture student who wanted to speak.

After the meeting, which, according to Hersey, turned nearly everyone against violence, the students returned to their colleges to vote on whether or not to strike. At this point there was mass confusion-some going on strike and others refusing to. Support of the strike, a term variously defined, ranged from nearly unanimously in favor of it {at Calhoun and Silliman Colleges) to strongly against it {at Saybrook).

As the students were trying to decide what they would do, another group was trying to reach a conclusion about what Yale was striking for.

The Strike Steering Committee, made up of "representatives of all12 residential colleges, graduate schools [sic], law school, drama school, black medical students, black faculty, Coalition of Concerned Women and the Third World Organization," worked out a tentative series of strike demands. Only then did it become clear that a whole series of student discontents were to be voiced in the strike. There was something for everyone, from a demand that "theYale Corporation call for the immediate dismissal of charges against the nine Panthers," through complaints against Yale's physical expansion in the city, calls for day care centers for the children of Yale employees and "adequate wage and workman's compensation and retirement plans" for the workers, to an end to " all plans and construction of the Social Science Center and Institute" {which some students charged would manipulate people).

These demands were by no means accepted by all students. Still, by April 24 the first edition of the Strike Newspaper, which had sprung into existence at Dwight Hall, estimated that attendance at classes was "down 65-75 per cent though some science classes report 45 per cent attendance."

The paper also said, Most of the Humanities and Social Science classes still held are discussing the Seale trial, the Panther's situation, and Yale's relation to the community. The Drama School, Music School and School of Art and Architecture have ceased normal activity.

On Thursday, April23, the Yale College faculty met in Sprague Hall to decide what action they should take. Instead of the approximately 100 members who might atte~d a normal faculty meeting, 450 of the 700 college teachers appeared.

Outside, a mob of student demonstrators gathered.

President Kingman Brewster was clearly scheduled to speak first, but he yielded the floor to Professor Roy Bryce-Laporte representing the black faculty {a dozen or so of whom were sitting together in the front of the room). After "a long impassioned preamble," he introduced a resolution which called upon Yale to recognize "essential human and constitutional rights" by suspending normal academic functions, to establish a fund made up of faculty contributions "to deal with any financial aspects that might arise from the present situation," to support a national conference of black organizations at Yale, and, in John Hersey's words, to establish a commission with representatives from the New Haven black community and from the University to discuss Yale-

pageS

The New Journal/December 12,1974.

•

community relations, especially issues of land expansion and housing.

Bryce-Laporte made it clear that the black faculty would tolerate little, if any, modification of their resolution.

With this powerful demand before the faculty and with the sounds of the crowd echoing outside, Kingman Brewster rose to speak. He announced that he saw two issues currently disturbing Yale: "The first is the trial of Panther members; the second is Yale's relation to the community."

While he made it clear that Yale wished to see .I HAVE

H£~A

STATc/'fCNT EXPRESSING YOVR Slc£PrtC151'1 THAT A BLACJ<: RE\0Lur70NARY / CAN GEX A FAtR /RIAL ..

justice done in both cases, and was ready to assist faculty members to monitor the trial, report on its development, and review it fairness, he rejected any outright contribution of university money to the defense of the Panthers (which some were calling for). There was, he said, "an absolute legal barrier'' to such a use of university funds. Following his remarks on the university's position in the crisis, Brewster made a comment for which he was later to be strongly criticized. Probably wishing to show students and black faculty that, despite the necessity for Yale as an institution to remain neutral, he, as an individual, was not unsympathetic with their fears, he said, I personally want to say that I am appalled and ashamed that things should have come to such a pas's that I am skeptical of the ability of black revolutionaries to achieve a fair trial anywhere in the United States.

Then, after a few more remarks, he closed his statement by calling for everyone to "cool rather than heat up the atmosphere in which the trial will be held.'' In the context of the meeting and the times, the president's "skepticism" statement was hardly as shocking as when it appeared in the nation's press. Some years later he explained, My decision was not a simple self-indulgence of my right of free speech. It was the result of a deliberate balance of judgement about what' degree of speaking out was best for the University under the circumstances: how to avoid excessive exploitation of the presidential office, and how to avoid being a moral eunuch on a morally anguished campus.

After Brewster spoke to the faculty, others introduced a resolution calling for the week of Apri127 to May 2 to be used for "critical discussion, reasoned analysis, and informed debate about issues and proposals." Students and faculty could pursue this end in any way they wished.

The resolution specifically condemned " force, coercion, obstruction or violence." It was clear, however, that in the face of the black faculty resolution, their carefully considered proposal had no chance to pass.

At this point Dean Georges May, who was presiding, announced that the students gathered outside wanted the faculty to listen to their representative. May said their spokesman was a dependable and trustworthy young man named Kurt Schmoke, and he suggested that the faculty circumvent their rules against the presence of nonfaculty at their meetings by "adjourning" to hear him.

After the faculty had adjourned, Schmoke, a black member of the class of 1971 and its permanent secretary, appeared on the platform. In a brief and moving address, Schmoke asked the LF I'VCI SIGIV IT, .r CAN GUARANTee /VO VIO/.£/VC£

THIS WE£1(eNf1 TH£RE8Y /'fAKING HXI A IVATIOIVAL FOUr-HERO FOR ICEEPING THe ~ACE.

Rf6HI 0111.

/

began to roam the campus trying (unsuccessfully) to shut down any class, library, or intellectual activity that continued. Charges and countercharges echoed across the land, against Yale for the so-called shutdown, and against Brewster for his statement of skepticism. Attacks on the president by a judge, the Governor of Connecticut, and Vice President Agnew (among other&), helped to unify Yale behind Brewster. But there was some concern about his leadership in the crisis. One conservative student feared that the president . was politicizing Yale in order to save it. He warned, in the Yale Daily News, that both the president and the university might become "even more removed from the people outside," and in the process Brewster and Yale might be irrevocably weakened.

Whatever these decisions meant for Y.ale's long-term future, the university as a teaching institution was rapidly shutting down and preparing for the onslaught of participants in the May Day demonstration. Only the Medical and Nursing Schools continued much a.s usual.

All the students' love for extracurricular affa.i rs now surfaced as they got ready for May Day. In his Letter to the Alumni, Jolm Hersey gave a fascinating glimpse of "by no means all" the activities at Yale on just one day, shortly be- · fore the feared arrival of the demonstrators:

faculty to give the confused and frightened students moral leadership. As one observer later wrote, "When he left, the entire faculty rose to its feet as an expression of homage to the courtesy of his speech and the charm of his person.''

The faculty then turned to the difficult task at hand. Led by Brewster and Kenneth Mills, a black assistant professor of philosophy, the faculty altered the original resolution to call for a suspension of normal academic "expectations." A section specifically condemning violence was added. The two and a half hour meeting then ended with the passage of the slightly altered resolution.

Those faculty members who were opposed to this decision were, it appears, caught off guard by the speed with which the faculty acted. They were furthermore, in an uncomfortable position. Any opposition to the resolution, no matter how restrained, was liable to be termed "racist."

George Pierson did suggest, according to Hersey's account of the meeting, "that momentous actions were being precipitately taken, and he urged adjournment and a day's reflection." But the faculty was not to be halted. Many members undoubtedly felt that unless the black faculty and the students got some clear-cut action which showed the depth of theYale College faculty concern, any number of catastrophic events might occur.

Brewster later wrote of the decision to close down, This was done to avoid the total polarization of the campus which had wrecked so many other places. The decision exacted a price. We came close to serious compromise of our educational and scholarly mission. The decision could be justified only by the desire to hold the community together in face of the announced May Day onslaught which was initiated entirely outside [sic!]

New Haven.

From the time of .the faculty meeting on, the tempo of events increased. President Brewster issued a directive to all faculties "that the normal expectations of the university are modified at this time." No teacher was barred from his classroom, but no one was obliged to teach and no student needed to go to class. A small number of Yahoos

Picketeers meet at breakfast in their residential colleges at 8:00a.m. to get their orders for the day. A group in Branford College attempts to set up a free breakfast program for New Haven children that is not connected with the Black Panthers. The Strike Steering Committee calls a press conference of the sixty to eighty out-of-town news reporters who have come to cover the weekend carnage. Italian-speaking students (haircuts available at Silliman College, 50 cents) go out to canvass key Italian neighborhoods, carrying leaflets with pictures of Sacco and V anzetti. A meeting for Theological Reflection in the Divinity School at 10 a.m. Study group forms to investigate restrictions put on faculty members by their departments.

Those planning to work as medic aides are assembled for instruction. An ad in Strike Newspaper announces a meeting for SPIRITUAL MEDICS: ''Help convert the energy into good energy: high-centered people needed as spiritual medics ... Don't underestimate yourself!'' Yale Coalition of Concerned Women recruits marshals: "Women are more effective as marshals in preserving a nonviolent situation." Davenport College being converted into a childcare center for the weekend. Three lectures at the Law School: " Arrest and Search," "Immunity and Contempt," "Conspiracy." A "Rock Expertise" group<:al.ls for ''people experienced in stage management, light-shows, equipment handling, politics, the logistics of large concerts, and bizarre business in general." There is a " law table" in each college at lunch. Students distribute "fact sheets" on the Panther trial at the gates of the Olin Mathieson Winchester arms factory. Silk screeners print posters. Filmmakers coalesce into a unity called May First Media. The Strike Newspaper staff turns out its daily stint. The Medical Committee for Human Rights sets up first aid stations. A murmuration of meetings in the colleges on housing, feeding, communicating. Teach-ins and teach-outs in

'~)age

The New Journal/December 12, 1974

9

â&#x20AC;˘

would have to be studied in the light of a new federal law and contract negotiations with the union which were coming up the following year.

He defended both the social science center and institute.

On the same day that he gave his reply to the Strike Committee, Brewster announced that "regular academic expectations" would be restored in all schools on Tuesday, May 5. But the Strike Committee rejected Brewster's reply, broadened its demands {especially condemning the recent incursions of U.S. forces in Cambodia), and attempted to keep theY ale strike alive as part of the national student strike which was then under way.

Though most faculty members and numerous stu, dents returned to the classroom, many other undergraduates did not. Picketing became, as one strike leader put it, "as coercive as possible without hitting people." The killing of students at Kent State by the National Guard hardly helped to calm the situation at Yale. But since attendance was not taken in classes, no one knew exactly how many students were still on strike.

Trying to remain at the head of the university This hectic activity was further stimulated as and keep its support, Brewster and 1200 students reports and rumors circulated of the theft of guns, went off to Washington to "talk to the Yale of fires at the Law School and Wesleyan Universi- graduates who are members of Congress" about ty, of the arrival of Hell's Angels from California, how to stop the war, how to counter the "White of the alerting of federal troops. New Haven House effort to isolate and make scapegoats of stores were boarded up. Schools closed. universities and their students," and how to elect May Day dawned warm and sunny and anit-war congressmen. beautiful. At first it appeared that what was The academic year 1969-70 finally straggled sometimes known as "Kingman's luck" had to a strange, disjointed end. Most of the students failed. But perhaps it was luck after all. The acwent home, though some did not complete all their tivities on the green were more like a country fair work until fall. But Kingman Brewster had to than a protest. Rock groups played Q.Dd represen- remain behind to face the wrath of the alumni who tatives of a wide variety of causes spoke intermireturned for reunion. nably. Both Women's and Gay Liberation made their cases. A skywriter put a great peace symbol in the clear blue sky over the mob. The crowd of 15-20,000 {instead of the feared 50,000) was alterSurvival for what purpose? nately bored and entertained, but seldom very excited. Though attempts were made by a few uniMost Yale graduates were not, apparently, dentified individuals to foment trouble both Friday and Saturday nights {and the smell of tear gas grateful to Brewster for getting Yale through May swept through the campus and.,stung many eyes), excellent work by Panthers, police, civilian marshals, the black community, andYale students kept the confrontations small. Fortunately, the Connecticut National Guard, which was on the scene and was later reported to have been carrying live ammunition, retained its self-control. Perhaps it helped that some of its members were Yale students.

The major untoward event of the weekend was the explosion of several bombs in the stairwells of Ingalls Rink. Fortunately, a rock concert had just ended when the bombs went off, and only 75 to 100 persons remained in the building to be knocked down by the force of the blast. No one was seriously injured and the $50-100,000 worth of damage to the rink could be repaired.

But even with the departure of the crowd {Coffin claimed, " we licked them with love" ), the Yale strike did not end. Though the people of Yale had united in the face of the onslaught, now the invaders were gone and Brewster still had to reply to the demands of the strike committee. He promised that Yale would assist faculty members to work for a fair trial, and the university would try to play a more constructive role in New Haven, especially through a new joint Yale and communi- . ty housing and development corporation. A plan for a day care center would go forward on an experimental basis. Employee benefits, he said, college common rooms and out on the town; . community residents teach students, and vice versa. An afternoon lecture in Morse College on "Coloniz~Jtion and Race in Plantation America." Ad Hoc Faculty Resource Group holds an open forum in Strathcona Hall on "Psychology of Racism." The varsity lacrosse team crushes Williams 13-4. A training meeting for marshals is held in Dwight Chapel. The Student-Faculty Monitoring Committee announces its concern about the organization and planning of the weekend demonstrations. Drama students put on a psycho-drama in Morse College "to investigate physically and emotionally the energies and tensions arising from the current crisis." The Russian Chorus gives a benefit for Panther defense. The Rogues' Trial, a contemporary Brazilian comedy is staged in Stiles College as a benefit for BSAY; "come to relieve your head," the notice advises. Mass meeting at Ingalls Rink.

6

Day and the strike without a disaster. Instead, they were furious at him for his "skepticism" statement, for politicizing {as they thought) the university during the strike and his trip to Washington, and for all the old issues of admissions procedures, the R.O.T.C., and Coffin and Lynd. Brewster tried hard to explain the actions he had taken during the difficult days of spring. But it is doubtful the alumni were willing to listen. They thought he was destroying Yale and they were showing their displeasure in the most obvious way - gifts were falling off. Not only had the alumni fund failed to make its target, but the development office reported to the Yale Alumni Magazine, We have raised about 27 per cent of the capital goal [of $443 million] with 36 per cent of the time elapsed. The average level of new commitments is substantially below the $50 million per year required to fulfill our goals.

As Yale began 1970-71, Kingman Brewster told the newly entered freshmen that while the question of Yale's survival was not ''preposterous," he did not think it was the most important question. "Yale will probably survive... ," he said. "The real question is survival for what purpose?" And in his annual report, dated just one day after his speech to the freshmen, he remarked that during the past year it had occurred to him "that some day Yale might cease to exist in recognizable form as a free, internationally significant institution." Yale had been endangered, he pointed out, like all universities, by suggested changes in tax laws and the attacks of federal officials. These threats had not damaged Yale, he reported, but they showed the danger clearly: "A university cannot survive without the support of society in general, its alumni in particular." What it all came down to was that "Yale's freedom and integrity and quality depend upon their [the ¡. alumni's) tangible and intangible support. Survival itself is in the balance."

Another serious problem to which the president referred in his report on the year 1969-70 was the relationship to the local New Haven community. Yale, he made clear, would have to cooperate with the community to help the city solve its problems, but without becoming just a service institution for New Haven.

Yale had a two-point agenda for the year ahead, Brewster concluded, in addition, of course, to the desperate effort to maintain our quality and our momentum in the face of shrunken resources and inflated costs. That agenda is: to take measurable and significant steps to put Yale's relationship with its alumni and Yale's relationship with its own urban neighborhood on a more adequate basis.

Certainly the need to solve these problems was great and ever-increasing. Yale was under rising pressure from the city administration to pay taxes and from city blacks to stop the university's growth into their neighborhoods and to share its resources more freely with them. And an alumni committee bluntly reported that " for alumni of all ages, persuasions, backgrounds, and interests, Yale is no longer a given, unexamined

good."

1

The NewJoumal!December 12, 1974

page 10

-----ported that while some parts of their report had been accepted, and some were being considered, "others seem to have been ignored." He noted, however, that because the commission had been For the Old Blue: working at a time of particular crisis, some of their committees and concessions recommendations were already "dated-or even As the university entered the 1970's (amid a passe." Still, the chairman found that junior sudden "eerie tranquility" after the events of the faculty were playing a larger role in decisionspring), there were many recommendations in the making, students were being consulted more freair to make Yale a better place. Commissions had quently, and progress had been made in develbeen at work studying alumni relations and oping "appropriate disciplinary bodies designed university governance. The Study Commission on to safeguard individual rights yet to protect the Governance was appointed by Brewster in 1969 commonweal in cases of infractions of University when numerous complaints about the conduct of rules by either faculty or students." the university were in the air. It reported at Chairman J aroslav Pelikan overlooked or iglength in 1971. The commission detailed a wide nored, however, the poor handling of the case of variety of ways in which the university could pro- Kenneth Mills-a leader of the black faculty vide better information about decisions at all during the May Day period. Mills was found in levels and allow greater participation by all mem1972 to be holding a full-time tenure position at bers of the community in decision-making. Many the State University of New York at Stony Brook of its recommendations were, in fact, never while still working full-time at Yale. Mills was enacted. But several important changes were suspended for a year but always claimed that he made. On April2, 1971 theYale Corporation did not get "due process." While the ultimate decision of the university was probably right, had voted 12 year terms for Successor TrUstees (they had previously held office until the commencethe case been referred to an all-university tribunal ment following their sixty-eighth birthday). The as recommended by the Governance Commission Corporation specifically rejected a commission the sense that justice had been done might have recommendation for the election of two trustees been greater. by students and faculty because they feared that The problem with the alumni was of more imwould create "special constituents." They also mediate danger to the university, however, than instructed the Yale officers to respond promptly the problem of governance. Alumni can be useful to the recommendation for four all-university to any college or university in a wide variety of councils (on priorities and planning, institutional ways, of course, but the most important of all is policies, investment and finance, and operations through ~heir fin~cial support. Yale's alumni and services), but only the council on priorities were beginning to withhold some of their dollars and planning has been created as of this writing. from alma mater. So the worsening Yale finanThe Corporation at the same meeting requested cial situation prompted actions to pacify the the University Secretary, Reuben Holden, to graduates. Undergraduate admissions procedures make a specific propOsal for a news bulletin. Out were altered to admit more athletes and the of this vote came the Yale Weekly Bulletin and children of "Old Blues." Having pushed necesCalendar in the fall of 1972 -a much improved sary admissions changes too rapidly, and perhaps form of the old university calendar. The Corporaeven somewhat too far in the early sixties, Yale tion lastly asked the deans of the schools to get now found itself forced into a ¡sizeable retreat. But the response pf the faculties to aspects of the the first step was to reorganize the alumni body report which affected them. following the recommendations of the report on A year later the chairman of the commission's the Commission on Alumni Affairs, usually monitoring committee (appo~ted for a year) reknown as the D'!Yt;r Commission~ its cl!_airman, and a f~ibility study under tlie leadership ~~UN/~~1'1 of George B. Young.

SHIIU CHecK? No_SJR, Though Bishop Paul Moore, Jr., a Fellow of /IKffr.' ~ H/111& NO~/) ##mf ~ERr A/.AilM ~ the Corporation, joked that changing the alumni RAOICA/... APPROI#CH TO organization was "like rearranging the deck chairs ÂŁ1)()CRT:{f!'i 11NO I n:J SUPI"UUCr IT! on the Titanic," the plan for an Association for I Yale Alumni was given the go-ahead by theYale Corporation in October 1971. The new group was given overall responsibility for coordinating alumni-related boards and its chairman was given the right to attend meetings of the Institutional Policy Committee of the Corporation and other committees as necessary. A complicated system. was worked out whereby all of the university's alumni would be represented in an assembly of 350 delegates. But the most important product of the reform was the Governing Board, which would exercise the powers of over-sight and coordination of alumni activities and which, in the provost's words, would provide "an effective link between Yale and all her alumni." Endicott P. Davison (B.A. 1945), appointed to the newly created post of Director of Institutional Deveolpment and Capital Support in 1971, was to be the chief alumni liaison on campus. He put the purposes of the organization more crudely: ''Alumni will now have clout' that they never had before."

Undergraduate admissions were uridoubtedly

7

the key area of alumni concern. By the 1970's the university was beginning to try to show that it really cared about the children of its graduates.

The Office of Institutional Research released a report showing that by 1971 Yale-affiliated applicants in the middle applicant pool-where most inidividuals fall- had a five times better chance of acceptance than those with no Yale relatives.

President Brewster began to express his concern as well. In his annual report for 1971-72, he finally admitted that the admissions office had not paid enough attention to alumni relationships. By ¡that time, R. lnslee Clark. had resigned and pressures for change were building. Throughout the years 1969-73, however, alumni children remained at a level of about 13-15 per cent of each entering class. Under the insistence of the A Y A, however, things begah to change. In the fall of 1973 the alumni group called for an increase of the children of graduates in each class to "a figure closer to 20 or 22 per cent.'' The A Y A chairman, Frederick P. Rose (B.E. 1944), said, "It's necessary to eliminate the impression created by the admissions office of previous years that Yale is not interested in alumni children.'' While the dean of admissions considered the 20 per cent figure "unrealistic" based on the present applicant pool, the president directed that alumni children be actively encouraged to come to Yale. One way or another, the class of 1978 had the highest number of the sons and daughters of graduates in many yearsnearly 20 per cent of the class.

"Old Blues" had also been concerned about what seemed to them a noticeable decline in Yale's prowess on the athletic field. Here, too, the president, while carefully hedging his statement, declared that "the Corporation members do wish to eliminate every financial or other handicap to the admission of scholar athletes." Positive weight, Dean of Admissions Worth David was told, was to be given to athletic distinction in the appraisal process. Brewster also wanted each cla~s to have more scientists, more New Haven students, more minority students, and better geographic distribution.

8 A millionthedollar crisis remains windfall

but

Whatever else might be said about these moves-and it is still too early to tell what effect they will have on Yale or its graduates-two things were clear: an attempt was being made to woo the alumni back to caring about Yale, and the university (by that one would have to mean Brewster) was making a broad retreat from its earlier position. "Inky" Clark had felt that Brewster and the Corporation wanted a more diverse and intel1ectually stronger student body. Clark had specifically rejected geographic representation as an element in the make-up of classes. In 1970, Brewster had said there .was no intention of having any consolidation or retrenchment in the admissions procedure. Now the change was on.

The reason, of course, was the financial situation. The shift from good times to bad had first been indicated in the fall of 1969 when the first cut-backs (in things, rather than people) had begun. But the real problem only became apparent in the spring and summer of 1970. While the treasurer stressed at that time the decline in Slumni giving, other gifts used for operating expenses were falling as well. Between 1967-68

The Ne w Journal/December 12, 1974

page 11

and 1969-70 total " Gifts Availed of for Operating long semesters each year, which would have fit the Expenses" fell by $ 1 million. They had undoubted- normal 104 weeks of instruction a student received ly been budgeted to grow at a rate of at least nine in four years into three years, was not appealing to per cent along with everything else. The fall in those who had to teach the long terms. The proincome, however, did not s top the rise in expenses. ¡ posed " mentor program," designed to give stuThe rate of inflation was picking up. The costs of dents throughout t heir years at Yale better admedical and fire insurance and social security were vice, guidance, and evaluation of their work, rising, a s were wages , utility expenses, and interseemed expensive and not really very innovative. est rates. In his report for the frightening year of The Dahl Report, which was intended to give 1969-70, the treasurer said that if Yale were to " recommendations concerning the future of Yale continue " at its pres ent pace" the estimated over the next 20 years" was hailed by Brewster as s hortfall would be $8 million in 1971-72. In Octobeing restrained by " an admirable modesty and a ber 1970 the Corporation approved a plan for a healthy pragmatis m. " The faculty, however, laid total reduction in " activities and people" of $5.3 it aside and asked its executive committee to million from the predicted 1971-72 expenses: The appoint an ad hoc committee to "consider the people of Yale had already been warned. In Sepfuture of Yale University as whole... (and) toretember they had been told that " virtually all port to the faculty on possible ways in which Yale aspects of Yale will be required to cut back" and may achieve and maintain financial stability and this was followed, in October, by a freeze on hirexcellence in scholarship and undergraduate and ing. The situation did not brighten when, that graduate teaching over the next generation." The same fall, the city put eleven pieces of Yale's prop- Blum Committee, as it was called after its chairerty on its tax lists. man, Professor John M. of the history deWhile Yale's various moves to cut expenses partment, had some,Problems even beyond the were helpful, they could not solve the financial st:retch of their mandate. The major difficulty was problem because of the scarcity of gifts for operain getting firm financial information. Throughout ting income. Though the alumni fund increased their deliberations it appeared that the deficit for slightly in 1970-71, other gifts of this sort again the year 1971-72 would be about $4.6 million (indeclined. Over four years, gifts in this total catecluding contingency allowances of $1 million). In gory were down, while university expenses infact, just as they were about to report, it was recreased by 32 per cent. At the same time, addivealed that the deficit was only $1.2 million. tional expenses were coming on line. Yale's comThus, while everyone was delighted over the imprehensive health plan, operating from a new $6.7 proved results, the committee's financial projecmillion building (not including equipment) went tions had to be reworked. The error, which was into operation in July 1971. The experimental later shown to be due to numerous factors all Tuition Postponement Option plan, by which a working in Yale's favor, combined with a poor student could defer the payment of a portion of tracking system, caused a certain amount of anger tuition, and repay it by a percentage charge on and embarrassment. It undercut the weight of the income after graduation, was instituted for 1971administration's words. As Brewster told the Cor72. The president had long talked of such a plan, portion in September 1972, the divergence befunded by the federal government, but in the face tween estimates and performance posed "a danger of rising tuition it became a necessity. For 1970that no future forecasts" would be believed " and 71 , tuition and room and board amounted to that there will be continued skepticism about the $3,900. A $500 increase was added for 1971-72. adequacy of the information about where we stand (In 1964-65 the inclusive fee for resident students financially at any given time." was $2,800. By 1974, it had reached $5,350.) But Despite the difficulties with financial inforYale could not afford to increase its financial aid. mation, when it reported in December 1972, the So Yale turned to its new experimental plan, even Blum Committee agreed there was a very real though there was a ris k it might cost money, or financial problem. And while it pointed to various students, in the long run. ways the university could, and should, save The deficit for the year 197Q-71 was $2.6 milmoney, its major suggestion was a rejection of the lion; in June 1971 it appeared that the 1971-72 deDahl Committee's extended semesters and a recficit would soar to $6.5 million. TheYale Corpora- ommendation that Yale adopt a trimester plan tion realized that the university was in " a major and include a summer term which would be man-¡ financial crisis." It was decided that educational datory for one term for all undergraduates. It costs must be cut 20 per cent from the forecasts further suggested an increase in the size of Yale over the next three years. As part of this proCollege to 5300 students upon the completion of gram , the president appointed a committee, under two new residential colleges. The committee memthe chairmanship of Professor Robert Dahl, to get bers believed this would involve no necessary a fundamental and fresh appraisal of Yale's educa- additions to physical plant and service facilities, tional functions. although they confessed it would not relieve overIn January 1972 the Corporation announced crowding in the colleges. A majority of the comits intention of launching a fund drive after the mittee did not think overcrowding was, in fact, a current reviews of the educational and financial serious problem. The two undergraduate memoperations of the university were completed. Yale bers of the committee and one current and one had to get its "own house in order," according to former master disagreed, but they were outvoted Brewster, and should "come forward with an edu- by the others-most of whom were not closely cational prospect which commands widespread involved with the colleges. The majority even enthusiam by all sectors of the community." suggested converting faculty offices in the colAfter that was done, it could go to the country for leges into residential space although that would money. have undercut a major purpose of the colleges and Unfortunately for Brews ter and his hope for would have done nothing to s olve the problem of rapid movement, the faculty found litUe it liked in overpopulation of public spaces. the Dahl Report of 19-72. The report had many The Blum Committee was only slighUy more worthwhile features, but two points attracted the successful than the Dahl Committee-perhaps attention of the faculty. The proposal for two very because their report was undercut by the treas-

a

Blum

I

urer's error in estimating the deficit. The faculty and the Corporation did vote in January 1973 to move to a trimester plan for 1973-74 and the faculty appointed a committee to work on plans for a new pilot summer term in 1974.

The new academic schedule-beginning early in September in order to make room for a summer term-went into effect with freshman registering on September 2, 1973 and the upper classes on September 5. The students arrived in the midst of the worst heat wave of the summer which, it must be conjectured, influenced faculty feelings about a summer term. The professors were also presented with a report of the Council of Masters which said that a "mandatory summer tenn will seriously injure undergraduate education by damaging those aspects of education beyond the classroom which contribute to Yale's distinctiveness. " The science faculty feared that the normal sequential progress of their students would be disrupted. Debate began at an October 11 meeting where the faculty was surprised to hear President Brewster say he would support a voluntary summer semester rather than a mandatory one. If this move was based on a pragmatic decision that this was all he could get, it still undercut and embarrassed those who had supported the mandatory term because the president had said 1t was necessary. After Brewster's statement, a lively debate continued in and out of meetings for two weeks. Finally, on October 25, the faculty voted for an experimental summer term in 1975. They had debated too long for it to begin in 1974. Interestingly, the new term would not do much to s olve Yale's financial problem-the main reason the change had been suggested.

Putting the bes t face on it he could, Brewster said in his annual report for the year 1973-74 that " The test of morale is the faculty 's wimngness to assume a degree of responsibility for helping the University make ends meet. This cha11enge has been met with remarkably good temper." And he wrote that he believed the imaginative design of

TheNewJoumal!December 12,1974

page 12

•

"real qualitative losses," as the president obthe summer term offered a good change for "im· served. Though the number of professors, asso· portant educational innovation." ciate professors, and assistant professors had in· The Blum Report left little behind but the voluntary summer term, for the expansion of the creased over the years, the total number of officers college enrollment which it hoped to accomplish of instruction, research, and administration had with the construction of two new colleges (the decreased from a peak of 3,250 in November 1971 gift of John Hay Whitney) was stopped by the to 2,859 in the fall of 1973. While undergraduate New Haven Board of Aldermen in April1973. As enrollment increased to 4,899 in the fall of 1973, costs for the buildings rose during the following graduate student enrollment had fallen from a peak of2,473 in 1969 to 2,293 in 1973. The total of months the two new colleges became less and less graduate and professional enrollment no longer realizable without new funds. But the city was adamant. Without some solution to the need for surpassed the number of undergraduates after taxes or other payments, New Haven would not 1970, as it had in the sixties. allow the buildings to be constructed. Yale was no The pain of numerous budget cuts had renearer solving its problems with the city than it duced the deficit. In 1972-73, Brewster's tenth year, it was down to $896,082, the smallest had been three years before. amount since 1968·69. The total deficits fllld in· tentional expenditures from capital gains for Brewster's ten years were $62 million. Even the best management would probably have faced defi· The Campaign for Yale cits in the 1970's, but a somewhat more conserv· ative approach might well have preserved more Despite the continuing slide of the stock mar· . endowment with which Yale could have faced the ket, the university unveiled its new fund drive on whipsaw of a temporary decline in gifts and raging AprilS, 1974. Yale was going to try to raise $370 inflation.. million over three and a half years in a "Campaign It is interesting to note what has happened to for Yale.'' This sum would be the largest amount the administration's eminence grise to the east. of money ever sought by a university in the In 1950, Yale's total assets were about 56 per cent United States. Of the total amount, $239 million of Harvard's (at book value and probably also at was for badly needed endowment, $55 million for market). By 1963, at book value, Yale's assets operating expenses, and $76 million for improvewere 57 per cent of Harvard's, and were only about 50 per cent at market. By 1972 when Yale's ments.

Comparing the new drive with the ten year endowment reached the highest level in history, campaign which had sought funds only from those the university's total assets at book were 58 per who would make major gifts, it was interesting to cent of Harvard's ($642 million to $1,119 million) see how Yale's goals had changed. In its six year and only 46 per cent at market ($695 million to history to June 30, 1973, the ten year plan had $1,515 million). raised 39 per cent of its revised goal of $443 mil· While Yale's performance in the money mar· lion (43 per cent of endowment needs and only 21 kets was marked as "good" in some per cent of facilities). For current funds (not in· areas by an observer from Dartmouth, he did note, eluded in the $443 million goal), the university had according to the Yale Alumni Magazine, that over done much better - it was right on target with the last five years ( 1969-73) "the compound rate of 60 per cent, $43.3 million. The most notable annual return on all Yale money, including long· change from the ten year plan to the $370 million term real estate holdings ... and restricted stocks campaign was in the disappearance of the Social which donors require not to be sold, has been 0. 79 Science Center- originally budgeted for $27 mil· per cent. By comparison, a group of 76 other uni· lion in the campaign. Gifts to that structure had versity endowment funds produced a median re· been very hard to get. Instead, taking over Berke- turn of 4.38 per cent ." The university's financial ley Divinity School in 1971 had allowed Yale to manager, Endowment Management & Research move it s social science library to the Berkeley Corporation of Boston, had done much better with buildings and to establish a social science center the funds under its care, but the total figure was there and in many of the beautiful old houses near· shocking for a university administration which by on Hillhouse A venue. More alarming in its dis~ had prided itself on its "go-go" outlook. appearance from the list of Yale's needs was the provis ion of housing for graduate, law, and divin· ity students. $6.1 million had been slated for this purpose in the ten year campaign. And in 1970, when John Hay Whitney created a $15 million Considerable gains trus t for the new colleges, he made his commit· ment with the understanding that Yale would ob· tain similar support for an equal number of gradu· The Brewster administration could not be a te s tudents. Though the trustees voted funds for given much praise for its financial management. planning and designine new housing, that impor· In measured tones the Blum Committee had retant goal was not listed in the Campaign for Yale. marked that neither in " the long-term planning Other changes were made, but none seemed quite nor the short-term financial management has the as important as these. A substantial decline in the University been as efficient or as alert as we wish amount needed for various medical buildings was had been possible. " There were other areas of the probably due to the fact that money for these pur· university's activities, however, which deserved poses could be found elsewhere. somewhat more acclaim. A high point would have One reason for the timing of the announceto be Paul Mellon's gift announced in 1966, of his ment of the new campaign was that Yale was great collection of British paintings, drawings, finally bringing income and expenditures into books and manuscripts for a new center for British balance. This had been achieved at the cost of art and British studies. Mellon, long one of Yale's painful contractions-"a 19 per cent reduction in most generous friends, also gave a $7.4 million (projected] educational budgets" -and with building and funds for its maintenance. While

9

1Q

Louis Kahn's structure for housing the collections has yet to create much enthusiasm, the inclusion of space for commercial stores (at the insistence of art and architecture students and, more significantly, the city) did mark a major commitment by Yale to New Haven. Unfortunately, the city refused to accept this procedure in the new colleges and instead insisted on being able to tax the entire place. Wisely, Brewster rejected this demand of a city government which refused to view Yale's financial situation by any other standard than the size of Yale's endowment.

Though the university's library system was never able to raise much of its goal under the ten year plan, a new Cross Campus Library was constructed underground at a cost (in borrowed funds) of $3.7 million. While many students be· grudge the new building's sterility, they never had to work in the jammed Reserve Book Room in Sterling. In addition, the new air-conditioned space will be more highly valued by those who must work in the library in the summer.

On the intelJectual front, an achievement of real note was Yale's purchase in 1973, through the impressive efforts of Donald Gallup, of the Ezra Pound papers. The completion of this transaction (the papers arrived at Yale in 1966) made possible planning for the establishment of a Center for the study of 20th Century Literature which would draw upon the great resources of the Yale Collection of American Literature in Beinecke Library.

Yale's ability to attract Charles Montgomery from Winterthur as Professor of the History of Art and Curator of the Garvan and Related Collections of American Art brought about the creation of an exciting display of those treasures in the new Mabel Brady Garvan Galleries of the Art Gallery.

Montgomery's goal was "to create an exciting teaching museum." This end was achieved to critical acclaim.

From early in his presidency, the develop· ment of the social sciences was high on Brewster's agenda. The Social Science Institute and Center were important in this progress. The expensive new center has now disappeared from Yale's plans, as previously noted, but the institution is now an operating entity. While Brewster has vocally resisted the idea of Yale becoming a ser· vice center, the institution is a definite move in that direction. It is, a.s the university explains, " an educational and research group applying social sciences and related professions to contem· porary social problems in the city, in education, and in the management of large organizations."

The Institute was to be made up of centers, estab· lished for no more than ten years, which would continue thereafter only if there was a clear need for them. In a move little heralded but of enor· mous significance, one center has already escaped from this position. In 1973 the Yale Corporation voted that on July 1, 1974 the Center for Organ· ization and Management would become the School of Organization and Management absorbing the Department of Administrative Sciences. Thus did Yale finally, with little fanfare and under different colors, accept the business school which it had so long resisted.

There were many other achievements of lesser note and undoubtedly many observers of theY ale scene will find major omissions here, but more important than the details of the very few new buildings (more in medicine than anywhere else), some new programs and several reorganized or enlarged programs (such as the School of Forestry becoming the School of Forestry and Environ-

The New Journal/December 12, 1974

page 13

!

mental Studies) was the general flavor of Yale.

Brewster pointed with pride in 1973 to an improved faculty: "Perhaps the least heralded change at Yale was the raising of standards for senior faculty ranks in the early sixties." This had been accomplished by building on steps taken while he was provost under Whitney Griswold.

These first moves were now expanded and systematized so that while nominations for tenure appointments still originated with departments, they were now reviewed by divisional committees for the fields of humanities, sciences, and social sciences. This judgment by "a jury of peers outside the department," according to Brewster, resulted in much better standards: "Softness was squeezed out. A Yale professorship means.more today than it did ten years ago." During these years members of the Yale faculty, for the first time, won Nobel prizes. One went to Lars Onsager, a Yale Ph.D. and, fittingly, J. Willard Gibbs Professor of Theoretical Chemistry, and another went to George Emil Palade, a new member of the Medical School.

Judgment of a university is a notably slippery thing. In a poll in 1964, theYale graduate school was either third in the nation, or eighth, if engineering was included. By 1969, a similar poll indicated that even including engineering, the school had moved to fifth. In the 1969 report, it was shown that Yale had improved more than any other university, for fifteen of its departments received higher ratingS in 1969 than in 1964. Yale ranked first in the country in English, French, history, political science, and pharmacology. A poll of professional school deans was not so kind to Yale, but it, of course, was dismissed as being badly conducted (which it probably was). Even so, it did give the Yale Divinity School top rank in its field, placed Yale second in law, behind Harvard, and put the Medical School in a three-way tie for third place. It did seem clear, as well, that excellent appointments had been made in many areas, the sciences had definitely improved, and Yale's traditional great strength in the humanities had been retained- perhaps even increased. One recognition of Yale's position in this list area was receipt of $2.75 million from theN ational Endowment for the Humanities to fund for four years the first National Institute for the Humanities to work toward a new approach to teaching subjects in this area.

angry and noisy demonstrators in the Law School auditorium. University administrators had done little to see that the speech would not be disrupted. Westmoreland had already prepared a letter of withdrawal and had refused the advice of Secretary of the University "Sam" Chauncey to go ahead and speak. Brewster used these incidents as excuses to make a self-serving statement about Yale's " determination to risk whatever confrontation might have occurred to vindicate the Political Union's right to listen to speakers of their choice without interruption." Two years later, when William Shockley tried to put forth~ ideas on the genetic inferiority of blacks in a debate on the necessity for society "to diagnose and treat" (by which Shockley meant "voluntary sterilization"), he was prevented from doing so by the noisy disapproval of many students. Again, the university administration's defense of the right of free speech was weak and uncertain.

The escalation of the war in Vietnam in 1972 brought calls for a new strike, but 65-80 per cent of the students continued to attend classes. Some students got themselves arrested for various forms of disruptive behavior, but most were not involved. A strange mixture of individuals from town and gown traveled to Washington to lobby with their representatives against the war. Some later got themselves arrested in the rotunda of the Capitol. But this was not the revival of the old era. More characteristic was the constant and ever increasing talk of ''grim professionalism'' in the college. The year 1972-73 was described by one student as "the year of the weenie,"-the grind. More and more students were choosing professional schools as their goal beyond Yale,. and an increasing number of them felt it necessary to work much harder than before. Chemistry labs were overcrowded by pre-medical students and the chemistry department was worried about becoming nothing but a training ground for future doctors.

One aspect of the tone of the college may have been the overcrowding. While the university administration, the Blum Committee, and others continued to deny the situation, to those who experienced it there was no doubt of its existence.

While Dean of Undergraduate Affairs John Wilkinson (B.A. 1960) said the situation was worse in 1945-62 before Morse and Stiles Colleges were opened, apparently he was only counting s~dents per room and ignored the fact that many more students now lived off campus. On a measure of one body per room, the colleges were at 101 per cent of capacity in the fall of 1973 with 600 living off campus. The crowding of public spacesLooking back and beyond common rooms, libraries, and dining halls-was especially noticeable. The quality of Yale residenAs Brewster began his second decade as pres- tial college life was definitely deteriorating and a ident of Yale one of the most striking changes was resource which had probably been very helpful in in the tone of the student body. While no change keeping Yale a liveable community and reducing in admissions procedure could yet have caused the outbreaks in the sixties was clearly being underresult, all through the university there was a cut. The Yale Daily News complained of "cattlequietness and seriousness that was hard to believe car accomodations." George W. Pierson, the after the boisterous, often pugnacious, late sixties. University Historian, undoubtedly spoke for By the fall of 1971, use of the Cross Campus many when he said in 1973, "I don't eat lunch at Library was up 66 per cent over the previous year. Davenport anymore, I find it too unpleasant. It's And one of the few protests of the year occurred disorderly, overcrowded, overnoisy. Yale has become a very impersonal place compared to what it when the library, in a budget cutting move, tried used to be." to reduce its hours. Still, the .s tudents had not completely given up concern for other thingsAnother measure of the flavor of Yale was a return to some of the silliness of earlier days. especially as long as the Vietnam War continued Though fraternities continued to close because of or escalated as it did in the spring of 1972. In one financial problems (only Fence remained in the fall case, during April1972, General William Westof 1974), "streaking" naked through the streets moreland cancelled a speech at Yale to avoid

11

and within the campus made its appearance in the spring of 1974. Drunkenness became a problem once again. And in better sign, the traditional clay pipes, banished by the puritans of '69, returned to class day in 1974.

As Yale approached its 275th year it appeared to be in a state of "normalcy": the financial situation was serious as usual; students were complaining about the quality of life; and the university, despite all, remained a dynamic place of world significance. What it would be like decades later on its 300th anniversary was another question. Certainly, the actions of the president, whoever he might then be, would make a substantial difference.

As Brewster entered his second decade as president of Yale, he was speaking more openly of the day he would resign, and university soothsayers were studying their crystal balls for a successor. One rumor had it that Brewster would leave his post when those who liked him had contributed to the Campaign for Yale, so his successor could then collect from his enemies. Whatever the length of the remainder of his presidency, it was still too soon to figure a "final mark" for his leadership. It seemed clear that in dealing with the fractious students of the 1960's, Brewster's pragmatism and flexibility had been a positive plus to him and the institution. The alienation of the alumni, given the problems of the years of student protest, may have been unavoidable, but Brewster's handling of the admissions procedure had only served to irritate the graduates further.

The president's financial policies still could not be judged. While the performance to 1974 was far from successful, the new devices and arrangements might ultimately prove themselves. Despite the financial stringency of the seventies and the disgraceful level of assistant professors' salaries, the overall faculty was larger, better paid, and probably stronger (though weaknesses certainly remained) than when he began. The administrative organization of the university had been improved and modernized, but again it was somewhat too early to tell how successful these changes had been.

Today one senses a certain fatigue about the whole administration, but that may only be the damper that financial stringency places on everyone. The throbbing vitality of the entire institution which one felt only a few years ago, seems to hl!ve lessened. If fear of the ultimate disruption by.the students has disappeared-for which everyon~ must be thankful-so has some of the vigor tlieir commitment and activity brought to life at Yale. This particular flavor Brewster neither brought nor took away. This survey of the Brewster years must end with neither the fanfare of trumpets nor a dirge-only uncertainty. The financial situation remains sufficiently gloomy that one must wonder with the president if some day Yale may "cease to exist in recognizeable form as a free, internationally significant institution. " 0

Brooks Mather Kelley, Research Fellow in History, is the authoro{Yale, A History. Mr. Kelley is currently teaching a residential college seminar on the history of Yale.

The New Journal/December 12, 1974

THE YALE SERVICE AGENCIES are now open Sun.-Thurs. 7-9

Yale Ring Agency Yale Record Agency Yale Typing and Tutoring Agency our office is at 198 Elm St. n~t to Durfee Sweet Shop 562-1209 or 432-4667

• • • the more for your moneysworth store•

ACME MALL 1245 Dixwell Ave. Hamden Bank Americard

Master Charge

Fly_ELI!

/

/

LOWEST AIRFARES SPRING 1975 \ ROUND TRIP GROUP FLIGHTS New York- Luxembourg Icelandic March 6- March 24 $270 + $3 tax* New York- Rome Pan-Am March 6 - March 24 $375 + $3 tax* *Fares Subject to Change Deadline for Resevervation and Payment Jan. SO. 1975

CHARTER FLIGHT- United Airlines _New York - Los Angeles - San Francisco ONE WAY May 9 $110 Deadline April 2, 1975

SUMMER GROUP FLIGHTS Icelandic Airlines- New York- Luxembourg Seven Departure Dates from May 12 to July 31 Eight Return Dates from June 11 to Sept 1 May Departure Fare $310 + $3 tax* June, July Departure Fare $400 + $3 tax* *Fares Subject to Change Deadline 35 Days Before Flights .

Flights Open to Yale Students, Faculty, Staff, and Their Immediate Families.

ELI INTERNATIONAL, INC. 2182 Yale Station Office: 320 Temple St. New Haven, Conn. 06620 Tel(203)77Eh8522 (Office Hours 1:00-4:30 p.m.)

(continued from page 2) sociate pastor, had any knowledge of the city from outside a Yale context-but Brewster rarely took council ·w ith them. Others, like Director Barnes, who had been a CIA agent before returning to Yale, were unfamiliar with the city's particular problems. Outside the Council, Brewster relied heavily on Old Blue advisors such as AI Fitt, who had been an Undersecretary of Defense, and Cyrus Vance. These men, while skilled in international affairs, lacked an understanding of the personalities and problems of a blue-collar community.

The Council failed to develop a coherent strategy for university-city relations. It first tried to fund community groups. Yale gave $100,000 to the New Haven Black Coalition for use in various community programs. But other groups pressured the university for funds it could not provide. Tension arose as New Ha- . ven's other ethnic organizations regarded the grant as favoritism toward the Coalition. Yale discontinued these grants.

The Council fared no better devising a strategy to govern the university's physical expansion - the most visible of its problems with t he city.

When Yale announced plans to build the Mellon Center (now the Center for British Art and British Studies) on Chapel Street, it met strong opposition from the city, which was nervously eyeing its shrinking Grand List (the list of all taxable land in the city). Though a compromise was worked out- Yale would allow retail stores on the ground floor of the Center- university officials failed to use the situation to begin communications with the city on the general problem of taxexempt land in New Haven. The incident simply represented another case of Yale dealing with the city only af" ter a specific project had offended the community and its leaders.

Finally, the Council showed shortsightedness in its technical assistance to New Haven. It failed to plan a way to implement Brewster's promise ' •to make it easier for faculty, staff and s tudents to contribute their own time, talent and energies as volunteers, consultants or even salaried workers on city problems." More important, the Council failed to stop the university from cutting out worthwhile programs that were helping New Haven: the Summer High School, ISSP, and the Masters of Arts and Teaching program all disappeared. No programs took their place.

While Yale never constructed a policy to guide its attitude toward New Haven, many New Havenites felt that the city should devise one

toward Yale. Bartholemew Guida, President of the Board of Aldermen in 1968, was obviously one such New Havenite. He authored the Institutional Development Ordinance- the so-called "Guida-Amendment" -declaring that no land could be removed from New Raven's tax rolls without prior aldermanic approval.

In 1969, Bartholemew Guida was elected Mayor of New Haven.

Unlike his predecessor, Guida was not impressed with grandiose plans and flashy appointments. The son of Italian immigrants, Guida had no intimate Yale connections and brought to the office of mayor the more traditional concerns of the New Haven community. He also had new problems facing him. Lee had heavily financed his renewal program with federal funds, and when (under the Nixon Administration) those funds dried-up, New Raven's financial situation grew steadily worse. Guida felt that Yale, as a citizen of the community, had an obligation to help New Haven financially - as Harvard, MIT, Dartmouth, and Princeton had long done in their own communities.

Yale officials apparently did not realize that there had been a change of style in City Hall. Yale's attempted fait accompli with the design of the two residential colleges might have gone over well with Lee (who had quite a flair for the fait accompli himself), but it reportedly annoyed Guida. Perhaps Brewster and other officials felt that because they had applied the "Mellon formula" to' the colleges there was no need to consult the city further. The city disagreed.

United by what they saw as another example of Yale's arrogance, the Aldermen ~wice rejected the university proposal. Many people at Yale considered New Raven's actions tantamount to blackmail, but the city seems to have been simply and forcefully saying that it was time, perhaps long pas t time, for Yale to sit down with the city to discuss the future. The city was even willing to sacrifice the economic benefits attached to building the colleges in order to gain a more permanent settlement withYale.

It is only since the colleges have been turned down that Brewster and theY ale Administration have made a serious effort to deal with New Haven. Interestingly enough, Brewster almost repeated a past mistake when he firs t considered a Philadelphia man for Yale's liason with the city.

In the end, however, he appointed Henry " Sam" Chauncey to the position - one of the most positive decisions he has made to further YaleNew Haven relations.

Chauncey is clearly a Yale man; but he has shown an ability to see beyond the one-sided approach and

I

The New Journal/December 12, 1974

Partners

blication

-.r The Yale Banner Inc. 8nd The IV.- .1ounv11 _. pleased to announce that. .. of this laue, they have

view town-gown problems realistically. Since taking on the job, he has made progress in coordinating the various functions of Yale which affect the city. Several activities, including the Office of Community Affairs Development, the Council's successor, and Yale Volunteer Services now fall under Chauncey's auspices.

In addition, Chauncey has been able to discuss hard issues with city officia ls-something previous Yale officials could not or would not do.

Chauncey dexterously handled the New York Giants negotiations for the university which has resulted in a profitable deal for both Yale and the city.

But Chauncey, too, has been shortsighted at times. In his article in the December 1973 issue of the Yale Alumni Magazine entitled, "What Are We Doing Wrong?What Can We Do Better?" Chauncey dwelt too long on cosmetic problems.

While students crossing against the light at College and Grove Streets and the "frigh tening entrance" to the Yale Art Gallery may be annoyances to New Havenites, larger problems exist to which Chauncey should devote more time-such as the Medical School's lack of involvement with the health problems of the Hill neighborhood. He claims that the university has not made itself "un· derstandable to the official city people"; the fact may be, however, that the city people understand Yale all too well.

Chauncey does recognize that Yale has been too cavalier with New Haven. He noted in his article that the problem with the colleges was not simply over the tax question, but also involved historic antagonisms, and Yale's over-optimism about having its way.

For the future, Chauncey has as· sembled a staff to deal with the town-gown problem. They have divided their task into five key areas: educational and cultural, physical plant, economic and financial, medical care, and volunteer. Within these divisions, Chauncey hopes to carefully investigate everything from how Yale could make its facilities more available, to how Yale's considerable investment real estate holdings affect New Raven's neighborhoods.

Chauncey's efforts are at least a first step. The question remains when and if he will present a coherent and workable plan to the Corporation and how the Corporation will treat such a plan. If Yale maintains the view that its "mission" cannot allow it to actively work with New Haven, the university may find that it is jeopardizing its own goals in the process. 0

Michael Jacobson

But t he king wears no cr own Power inspires a multitude of hats.

If we consider the innumerable positions, legitimate and ex officio, occupied by the President of Yale, it would be no trivial matter to cataloguE the concomitant assortment of hats so Byzantine an eminence implies.

One envisions a hat box as big as Beinecke, a special wing of Woodbridge to contain the load. Curiously, however, Mr. Brewster has chosen otherwise. Sans fedora, sombrero , panama, and fez, he is consistently hatless. There is no tangible hat in his life.

Of course for graduation lie poses in the sporty Oxford cap and at late season games waves his sturdy Russian black fur for the fans. A rather amorphous beige cotton rain hat is also reported from time to time in his keeping. But all told these amount to little in the great cranial equipage of eternity, t he head covering struggle of our race.

True, the hat is not indispensible even to the traditional titular authority. Did Caesar wear a hat?

Was Einstein hatted at the discovery of relativity. Witness Adam at the creation-is there a hat? Hatlessness is by no means a stigma, clearly not at all the social indiscretion of let us say shoelessness, facelessness or mindlessness. And yet one may in the long run expect something by way of a boater or deerstalker from the PRESIDENT OF YALE. Something by way of a concession to the role, not ostentatious or gaudy, but in keeping with the high stature and miasma of place, something is certainly in order. Indeed, not as a mere gesture to tradition, but as vividly functional appendage, a cranial buffer against the contemptuous onslaught of time and change.

But I would not force circumstance upon anyone bold enough to resist. If Mr. Brewster would breast the elements bareheaded, unhouselled and resolute, why then so be it. I salute him. Why be encumbered by the ineffective cranial baggage of the past, the cerebral cloth of our mortality?

And returning again to Dr. Suess, in the end hatlessness may be the greatest of all labors. As Bartholomew Cub bins' agon irrevocably details, the turmoil of achieving hatlessness is the difference twixt innocence and understanding. And for such vision in our own aspiring leader, we must all tip our hats in applause. L

JonEtra Jon Etra is a personal friend oI Bartholomew Cubbins.

Good writing Good re ading Good advertis ing The Yale BantHN

become Partnen In Publication. • The a....... now manages all of the fi~ affaln of The IV.- Jo«rna/, but the editorial direction ~ ~­ completely inde pendent. Thus, TheN"" JOUI'IW can continue to be e xcellent... 8nd can continue to survive. 4W Aa an advertiser, thla means that you c.. deal with one c ompany to secure the guerenteed readenhip market of TIHI JOUI'IWII, The Student Dltwt> ~, the Old C.mpus, the Student GuitM 8nd the LIT.

2840 Whitney Ave. Hamden

BEGINNING DECEMBER 12th

Sale on Discontinued Gerry Equipment 2()0/ o off on all73-74 Gerry Sleeping Bags

Gerry South Face Tent was $110 now $88 Gerry Year- Round II was $125 now $100 Gerry Packs and Frames 20o/o off

248-4475

01LL ME. You know I'm cramming for exams • •• so why not call me?

I could use the moral support.

~ 路

IF YOU DON'T MAKE IT INTO THE BANNER DIRECTORY OF ORGANIZATIONS, YOU JUST DON'T MAKE IT. The 1975 Yale Banner yearbook will include a Directory of Organizations, complete with full descriptions of the group's activities, full membership rosters, and a photograph of the group.

Whether you're in MEChA, BSAY, or YUWO, The Revue, New Journal, or Daily, the Dramat, the Symphony, or the Baker's Dozen, Dwight Hall, U.S. Grant Foundation, or Alpha Phi, the Prom Committee, Tang Team, or JCSC, there is a place for you in the Banner.

Any Yale College or residential college organization providing enlightenment, entertainment or service to others is eligible for inclusion.

What's the catch? The organizations must provide all the material: a description (maximum 150 words), the list of officers and members, and the optional group portrait.

Too much effort? It should take very little time, and it will secure for you and your organization a handsome niche in Yale College's only permanent record.

Call us at 68650 for more information, or bring your statement and roster to the Yale Banner, under the Woolsey Dome.

DEADLINE WEDNESDAY 15 JANUARY ItS more than a yearbook. ItS your book.

new haven terminal represents one of the largest and finest trans路 shipment facilities in southern New England today. It -coord inates 路 路11 transfer and trucking operations incl ...ding: (a) modern pier berths (b) stevedoring for all types of cargo, (c) ship's agent service, (d) warehours and open storage, (e) export and import handling, and (f) a unified trucking service throughoUt southern New England.

Today the Terminal maintains three major berths affording 35' M'L 'W' at a 650' pier and a quay with shipside rail. Wittlthese facilities. and with New Haven Harbor's 35' deep water channel, the largest freighters and tankers of normal draft in use today can be accomodattd.

The Terminal's many acres of open storage, and million cubic feet of (dry pipe protected) warehouse space are served by spurs which connect directly with the Penn Central main line to Boston and New York, Hartford-Springfield-Worcester line, etc. Motor line connections and trucks benefit from the new Conr-cticut Turnpike, (New England Thruway or Interstate 95) Exit 49 of which is less than 500 yards away, and which leads almost immediately to Interstate Route 91.

30waterfront street