aij)!W€R 9^73 June 24-30 The Summer of 73 is a week-long college experience for alumnae and alumni, parents, theirfriends, and theirfamilies. Inspired by the success of last year's summer college, the University is again sponsoring an on-campus academic pro- gram which will recapture the excitement of the classrooms, art studios, and dorm life at Brown. Some of your friends and classmates who came back last year said: "// was stimulating, satisfying and educational in many ways and on many levels. Please have another so we can come back." "How short the davs werel" This year's program consists of two courses to be taken by all adult participants plus two optional mini-courses and a special program for children 8 to 15 years old. Now is the time for you and your family to sign up. THGmTO OUR CrNIROMMehK Four members of Brown's new creative and performing arts programs have designed a course which will examine the every-day and the out-of-the-way art in our lives through a combination of full-group and individual studio experiences. Workshops will offer time for participants to be directly in- volved in the relationship of the arts to the concerns of our society and to participate in the creative process. Lectures and discussions will relate the workshop experiences to basic principles and concepts. HOW f R€G AKC We,RC/1LLY? Many Americans are concerned that the old concepts of freedom upon which our society and nation were founded are being challenged from many directions. Freedom of the press is a daily issue in the papers. Individual choice in matters from consumer goods through education appears more limited every day. Responding to this concern through lectures and discussions, four of Brown's most distinguished and popular faculty members will examine the concep freedom in the United States in 1973 and in the future. OPTIOM/^L Mim-couRses Your Mind and the Computer Your Body and the Dance CHILDR£n'9 PROGMM This year the summer college will include a program of re' ational and educational activities for children 8-15 year J age. Families will live together in the dorms, but a care 1) planned and closely supervised schedule for the chik r from 8:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. will free parents for their c activities. The optional evening programs will be a comb tion of family and separate activities. & ICGKTIWOi The Summer of '73 is open to all alumnae and alumni, 1 husbands and wives, parents of Brown students, their trie and their children 8 years of age and older. The fee schedule is: $325 per resident couple. $175 per resident single. $160perchild (8-15 years old). $ 80 per Brown student with pa Ti $130 per non-resident. $ 10 per person per mini-cours To register, send a deposit of $50 per person to Surrsi of '73, Box 1920, Brown University, Providence, R. I. 02:2 (Deposit is non-refundable after May 25.) I Brown Brown Alumni Monthly April 1973, Vol. 73, No. 7 In this issue 2 Under the Elms The controversy about the cheerleaders and the national an- them. . . . Brown's Equal Employment Opportunity officer. . . . The 205th Commencement. ... A seminar on auto emissions is held on campus. . . . Brown's new swimming pool meets the press. 12 The Proposal for a New Theater Arts Center The University has revealed its imaginative plans for a theater arts center — and they include turning Lyman Gym into an ex- perimental theater and Colgate Hoyt Pool into a dance studio. 17 'In Show Business, Cherish the Ups and Drive the Downs from Your Memory' Burt Shevelove '37, one of Brown's most distinguished alumni in the performing arts, returns to the campus to look over the plans for the theater arts center — and to reminisce about the early days of Brownbrokers. 20 When Death Seems Certain . . . When is a person dead? Because of technological advances in medicine, answering that question is not as simple as it once was. A professor of medical science and the University chaplain discussed that question — and others — at a recent continuing education seminar. 24 Staying On There have always been Brown graduates who stayed on to work for the University. Now there seem to be more doing that. Five young graduates talked recently about why they remained on College Hill. Departments 10 Carrying the Mail 30 Sports 34 The Classes 48 On Stage The cover: An architect's sketch of how the entrance to Brown's proposed theater arts center might look from Waterman Street. The present Faunce House Theater is on the right (see pages 12-19). Editor Robert M. Rhodes Associate Editors John F. Barry, Jr. '50 Ann Banks Assistant Editor Hazel M. Goff Editorial Assistant Christine Bowman '72 Design Consultant Don Paulhus Board of Editors Chairman Garrett D. Byrnes '26 Vice-Chairman Gladys Chernack Kapstein '40 Anthony L. Aeschliman '65 Robert G. Berry '44 Cornelia Dean '69 Doris Stearn Donovan '59 James E. DuBois '50 Ruth Burt Ekstrom '53 Beverly Hodgson Leventhal '70 Douglas R. Riggs '61 © 1973 by Brown Alumni Monthly. Published monthly except June, August, and September by Brown University, Providence, R.I. Printed by Vermont Printing Company, Brattleboro, Vt. Editorial officesyare in Nicholson House, 71 George St., Providence, R.I. 02906. Second class postage paid at Providence, R.I. and at addi- tional mailing offices. Member, American Alumni Council. The Monthly is sent to all Brown alumni. Postmaster: Send Form 3579 to Box 1854, Brown University, Providence, R.I. 02912 i Under the Elms By the Editors The cheerleaders and the national anthem B One of the problems of reporting on controversy in a monthly magazine is that one month's crisis is next month's yawn. (What usually happens is that just as a furor has died down on campus and in the local media, the Brown Alumni Monthly publishes an account which stirs up a second wave of protest from the out-of-towners.) If there ever was an issue in need of some perspective, it is the case of the basketball cheerleaders and "The Star Spangled Banner." A thorough study of all the implications and reverberations of the incident would probably provide enough material for a master's thesis in sociology. As it was, several trees must have been sacrificed to manufacture the newsprint necessary to run all the letters to the editor carried in the Brown and Providence newspapers. The issue was touched off when the eight Brown basketball cheerleaders did not stand for the national anthem before the game against Providence Col- lege at the downtown Civic Center on March 8. As a result, the Providence City Council unanimously passed a reso- lution deploring the incident and calling for an investigation. President Donald F. Hornig responded with a statement that the cheerleaders "violated no statute or University regulation and were within their rights. . . ." The cheerleaders, who are all black women, officially declined to comment beyond saying that the an- them "does not express ideas we agree with." That spare recitation of facts does not begin to convey the complexities of the issue. To start with, according to The Providence Journal, the City Coun- cil meeting at which the cheerleaders were censured seemed like an episode in mass hysteria. The grievances that were aired at the meeting had more to do with the permissiveness and moral laxity that allegedly exist at Brown than with the cheerleaders' action. "The Brown campus," said Councilman William G. Bradshaw '33, "is nothing but a vile mess. Oh, how I dislike walking across it. That is no longer my college. "And let's look further," he added, in a voice which the Journal described as quaking with emotion. "There used to be races on the Seekonk River until ex- cessive drinking forced their curtail- ment." Bradshaw, a member of his class' 40th reunion committee, went on to charge that students take an apartment off campus and "a couple of weeks later there are seven or eight of them, all liv- ing together, male and female, indis- criminately. . . . And what about rock concerts?" he added. "What's all this coming to?" Although Bradshaw was the most vehement in his remarks, other council- men expressed similar sentiments. Coun- cilman Anthony Sciaretta accused the Brown administration and The Provi- dence Journal of being blase about the incident. He said that they would not have reacted that way if the cheerlead- ers had appeared in "skimpy bikinis." Skimpy bikinis! Drinking on the Seekonk! What's going on here? There is, perhaps, a clue in Councilman Brad- shaw's remark that the issue of the cheerleaders should be used to recon- sider Brown's tax-exempt status. "Har- vard pays municipal taxes, so does Yale, why not Brown?" he asked. Several possible sanctions were sug- gested by Councilman Edward Xavier, co-sponsor of the resolution. He told the Brawn Daily Herald that the investi- gation would be designed to ascertain whether any of the cheerleaders were "subsidized by the government" through scholarships. "If they are, we're going to recommend a cutback of funds," he said. He also said that he was consider- ing asking that Brown not be permitted to play any more games in the Civic Center. "The Civic Center was built by Americans for Americans. If they are not going to act like Americans, we don't want them in there." According to Steven Fortunato, counsel for the cheerleaders, the women were completely within their First Amendment rights when they refused to stand for the anthem. In 1942, he said, the Supreme Court ruled that "you cannot coerce allegiance to the flag." The Court also ruled that "any public building or park cannot condition the lease of the premises on some sort of political or religious test," Fortunato said. When the BDH questioned Coun- cilman Xavier about the constitutionality of his proposal, he replied, "I don't be- lieve in the Supreme Court. They didn't pay for the building." While the City Council was making whatever political hay was to be made over the issue, students and local citizens were expressing their opinions at length in the letters columns of The Providence Journal and the BDH. In contrast to the sweeping denunciations against general moral license heard from the councilmen, most of the letter-writers confined their remarks to the actual episode, either supporting or criticizing the cheerleaders. One of the issues that was raised was the question of whether the cheer- leaders should be regarded as official representatives of the University. A Brown student wrote that the cheerlead- ers did not have the right to make indi- vidual protests because "when they put on a uniform and are representing Brown University . . . they lose some of their individual freedom. . . ." Athletic Director Andy Geiger feels that this position should be evaluated in light of the history of the cheerleaders. The basketball cheerleading squad — in Geiger's words — "invented itself" two years ago. The women took the initia- tive to make their own uniforms, design their own cheers, and form the first bas- ketball cheerleading squad at Brown in 24 years. The squad has remained seated during the national anthem since they first took the floor as cheerleaders. On several occasions last year, they were joined in their action by large groups of spectators, most of whom were black. The split between those who stood and those who sat was causing unpleasant- ness, Geiger says, so it was decided simply to stop playing the anthem at home basketball games, "It is, after all, possible to play basketball without hear- ing The Star Spangled Banner' first," says Geiger. "Maybe we can be accused of expediency, but we decided not to make an issue of it." (The gesture of not rising for the national anthem has been associated with black protest against racism in America. There were incidents involving black athletes' reactions to the anthem at the Olympic games last year and in 1968.) The cheerleaders decided not to make a statement defending or explain- ing their action, so that people who wrote letters in support of their right to dissent offered different interpreta- tions of why the women declined to stand. One obvious construction is that the cheerleaders did not want to lend symbolic support to an anthem extolling "the land of the free" when that con- cept has excluded black people for much of America's history. As John Belcher '75 wrote in the Herald, he did not see how it was possible to condemn some- one for "failing to hold in esteem a sym- bol which to that person represents a history of racism and oppression." Anthropology Professor Philip Leis, who has studied patriotism as it is man- ifested in the Bristol (R.I.) Fourth of July parade, says that it is not at all surprising that the cheerleaders' protest caused such hue and cry. "It is the na- ture of symbols," he says, "that they have an evocative and emotive quality. There is not just an intellectual associa- tion between the symbol and what it is supposed to represent. For some people, respect for the flag is intrinsically identi- fied with love of country." For Richard A. Nurse, the black as- sociate director of admission at Brown, the City Council bill to investigate the cheerleaders was a civil libertarian issue, symbolic of government suppression. As Nurse wrote in a letter to the Journal, the councilman who introduced the legis- lation "acted on his personal set of val- ues. The issue is not whether those val- ues are right or wrong, but whether our elected officials should use their powers to condemn and punish the values of other citizens acting within the confines of the law." (According to Nurse, the City Council resolution was not "simply another bit of racial demagoguery," be- cause it appeared that "during the draft- ing of the bill many of the councilmen were unaware that all of the Brown cheerleaders are black.") Nurse went on to say, "I chose to stand for the national anthem at the Civic Center on the night the Brown cheerleaders chose to sit. Their choice was not against the law and did not abridge my choice. I stood because . . . I know that there are very few countries in this world where those two choices could live together in the same arena.' He added that the Council's action hai caused him to decide not to stand for the national anthem in Providence "ur the resolution is rescinded and the rea meaning is restored to the song." Athletic Director Geiger says it is not yet certain what the outcome of tj- issue will be. He plans to talk the matt over with the cheerleaders to see what their feelings are, but he does not see his way clear to telling them what the' should do. "I don't think that standinj for the national anthem should be a prerequisite for being a cheerleader or an athlete at Brown," he says. (The ba ketball team members, four of whom ; black, do stand for the anthem.) "The controversy hurts us, of course," Geig admits. "It hurts the program. But I ju hope that people will remember that tl basketball team had a very good year- there was considerable pride around h when they beat Penn and Princeton. The cheerleaders have done a good jol of livening up the crowd and eliciting support from the student body, and th has been very important to the team." Making art history available to the museum visitor The meticulous historical specula- tion of art history can be obscure to tl uninitiated. And a novice to the world art might imagine an art historian as i old eccentric, dottering along the dark , musty corridors of museums and castlj The master's program in art histc at Brown has found a way to banish such preconceptions and make art his-i tory pleasantly accessible to the averaJ museum visitor. The program turns oil scholarly researchers who also happerj to know how to share their expertise ' with the public. j How can scholasticism, social ser' ice, and job training possibly be com- bined? Each year since 1967, the enter class of M.A. candidates has thrown r self into the task of conceiving and mounting a museum exhibition and pi lishing an accompanying scholarly cat log. The process of preparing an exhil introduces a variety of problems whic takes students deep into the academic sues of their subject — and beyond the "Doing an exhibition is really a great thing," says Catherine Wilkinso the assistant professor supervising th( luate seminar project this year. "You i just make a scholarly argument — hisualize it." When all the scholastic investiga- linto a problem is finished, the over- iiore has just begun. The students ihave to convince others of their iusions. And to do so, they need %s of art to back up arguments. They l| to locate widely dispersed works, bnd choose which of the available is to include in the exhibit, talk with borrow from private collectors, and 1 the ins and outs of getting a mu- 1 loan. 'Then they have to arrange for in- .ice and handling of the borrowed IS, .md cope with the problems of pying the exhibit, promoting it, and (ining it. With the catalog come still ; difficulties — editorial judgments, I 'ration among contributors, quality diKtion of art works, and maintain- i rholastic integrity while also in- I ng the casual viewer about the The nine M.A. candidates this year did all of these things in preparing the sixth of the graduate student shows. Their exhibit was "Drawings and Prints of the First Maneira 1515-1535." The product of a collaboration with the Rhode Island School of Design Museum, the show was mounted there for a run of four weeks in February and March. New York Times Art Critic John Canaday advised art enthusiasts that the show's concept and execution were enough "to make drawing buffs lust for a trip to the Rhode Island capital." The exhibit concerned an experimental and controversial moment in art history — the years immediately following the High Renaissance and leading into the period of mannerism, which has what Canaday calls connotations of "artificiality, affec- tation, witless exaggeration, and perver- sion. . . ." One of the arguments the exhibition made — and one which Canaday en- dorsed — is that such pejorative terms are undeserved, that the artists repre- sented in the show were instead "the first generation of individualists at all comparable to the extreme individualists that we accept all artists as being today. (They) were fascinated by more in- tensely expressive modifications no mat- ter what jettisoning of the realistic struc- ture was involved. ... In the finest drawings of these early decades there is a sense of release — of both the hand and the spirit — that accounts for their special charm." Putting aside academic and histori- cal considerations, the exhibit stood easily on its visual appeal alone. The nightmares and mythical preoccupations of the artists, the distortions and inter- pretations of previous artistic concerns, easily intrigued even those who stum- bled accidentally upon the exhibit. As the catalog's authors indicate, "Individuality was often stressed to the point of eccentricity," and naturalism gave way to "unreal spatial formations, anatomical distortions, and subjective rhythmic structures." [if the paintings in the exhibit was "The Judgment of Paris" by 7ntonio Raimondi (1480-1530), on loan from the Yale Unii^ersity Art Gallery. "htkiiidi^tHi^' 'There's always new talent — Brown must seek it out' Almost four years ago, a complaint was filed with the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare alleging that Brown was discriminating against women in hiring and personnel policies. Brown and HEW determined that this was indeed so, and began devising an "affirmative action" plan to correct past injustices to women and minorities at all levels of University employment {BAM, October 1971 and July 1972). To make sure that steps be taken and that Brown in fact mends its ways, the University hired James E. Tisdale as its Equal Employment Opportunity Of- ficer and special assistant to the presi- dent. Before taking this job last July, Tisdale served Brown for three years in its New York City development office. But, he says, "Most of my adult life has been spent in civil rights." He has been a liaison official between the NAACP and HEW for contract compliance; he spent three years in anti-poverty pro- grams in Bridgeport, Conn.; he was ex- ecutive director of the Greater Bridge- port Urban Coalition; and for about a decade he has been associated in a va- riety of roles with the NAACP, pri- marily in the youth and college division. Tisdale — a Brown employee not re- sponsible to HEW in any way — is here to help the University be what it has said it is — an equal opportunity em- ployer. His job entails recognizing ex- isting inequities and correcting them, and assuring that new positions are opened to all qualified applicants. Tisdale com- pares his role to that of an accountant. Whereas the accountant must keep fi- nancial records to satisfy IRS that Brown is operating legally, the EEO officer must compile records to satisfy HEW that Brown is meeting a different kind of legal obligation. "I make sure we're pay- ing our taxes as far as HEW is concerned — our 'humane' taxes," he says. If government officials decide Brown has not done so, it might mean serious trouble. The punishment for non-com- pliance could be complete withdrawal of federal funds from the University. Cur- rent estimates have those funds at around $9.5 million annually. Since Tisdale's job involves chang- ing hiring procedures and adjusting the make-up of the work force to achieve a fairer balance, he meets with some de- fensive reaction amongst the hirers. "The hardest traditions to change are in the faculty," he says, referring to the "buddy system" of asking only other department chairmen to scout around and recommend possible applicants for positions. "Some department heads are coming around and making a real effort to broaden the applicant pool. There are some too who are trying to skirt the whole procedure. I have found more problems with faculty appointments than with administrative ones, and I an- ticipate that this trend will continue." It was Tisdale's intervention in ad- ministrative appointments last fall, though, that first gained widespread at- tention for the affirmative action pro- gram and Brown's EEO officer. Tisdale charged then that the University had conducted narrow and thus unsatisfac- tory searches for candidates to fill two positions — dean of undergraduate coun- seling and executive director of HERS, a regional academic women's employ- ment service operating out of Brown. The first of the contended appoint- ments, that of Thomas Bechtel as dean of undergraduate counseling, was upheld since the appointment had been ap- proved and finalized by the Corporation prior to the challenge. The appointment of Dr. Lilli (Mrs. Donald F.) Hornig as director of HERS, however, became the subject of considerable controversy. After reviewing the circumstances of Jim Tisdale at the campus seminar on affirmative action programs. her appointment, a special subcommii of the Advisory and Executive Comiri tee of the Corporation concluded that the applicant search had "involved su| cient consideration for the principles ! affirmative action and was conducted good faith." The Corporation then ap proved Dr. Hornig's appointment. Brown's EEO officer recognizes t there is widespread apprehension regi ing affirmative action. To counteract ; what he feels is considerable misundcj standing of such programs, he organ! a day-long seminar in March dealing with the controversy and explaining \\ program's goals and procedures. i About 100 people from both the I University and the Rhode Island com munity attended the keynote speech c cerning job quotas. Workshops held 1 in the day dealt with the legal and ad ministrative details of HEW guidelim fair employment practices for student the role of women's groups in affirma tive action plans, and employment pr tices in the Providence area. Respons to the seminar was good, Tisdale say: the one exception being that campus women's groups would have liked a greater emphasis on ending sex discri ination. Tisdale is concerned that he mu; work against "the general anti-affirir tive action attitude here," and is dete mined that equal opportunity employ ment be taken seriously. "The Unive sity should continue to hire the best ]■ son for a position," he reaffirms, but fair employment practices need not b sacrificed to that end. "There's alwa> new talent," Tisdale says. "Brown ju has to seek it out and utilize it." The 205th Commencement weekend will be June 1-4 It's safe to say that Brown's 20S annual Commencement will have a r look. The traditional events — the on' the alumni and alumnae have come t feel comfortable with — are still then But there will be some modifications: For the first time, there will be ( joint Alumni/Alumnae Dinner inste of separate dinners for the men and women. The Commencement Forum popular event after only three years be extended through most of Saturd The Pops Concert will feature formi Metropolitan Opera star Mary Cost And something new has been added* Alumni Field Day: grownups and cl I .ilike can swim this year in the L isity's new Olympic-sized pool. The first item on the June 1-4 week- «agenda is the 6:15 all-college nni/Alumnae Reunion at Patriot's ;rt in the Wriston Quadrangle Friday sing. This will be followed at 7:15 fie Alumni/Alumnae Dinner, pre- l|l over by Robert G. Berry '44, presi- i| of the Associated Alumni, and Ruth 1) Ekstrom '53, president of the Alum- ^Association. [Tickets for the dinner are $6 per nn, with spouses and guests cor- !v invited to attend. Reservations i be made by returning the applica- form enclosed with the alumni bal- r bv writing to Box 1859 at the rersity. One of Brown's oldest traditions is E;"riday night Campus Dance held on s'ZoUege Green. Ralph Stuart's or- Etra will play for the dreamy dancers le Green, and a combo will make i the more modern music in Sayles L Advance ticket sales (Box 1859 f-i) are $6.50 per couple and $4 sin- ;rhe respective gate sale prices are .0 and S5. The Commencement Forums will 1 at 9:15 and run to noon and will :.up again at 2 and run to 4:15. The iTns will include a wide variety of eemic issues as well as cultural and -tic discussions. The forums are run irt of the University's new continu- 2'ducation program, which also in- i?s the summer Alumni College and aiaturday seminars on the road. iPerhaps the best known partici- I in this year's program will be Wil- 1 H. Sullivan '43, Henry Kissinger's i assistant at the Paris Peace Talks. Jvan, back for his 30th reunion, will ;iss the future of Indochina. Other issues scheduled for discus- ) this June run all the way from a 3 .-white role-playing situation pre- r.'d by two Brown chaplains to a iission of residential student life on E ampus. Brown's new football coach, John nsrson, will be featured in one of the ms. He will discuss his plans for i;ing about a renaissance in Brown CJall and will have on display the » s new uniform. There will be some new wrinkles at sAlmnni Field Day, -which has been a focal point of activity at Aldrich-Dex- ter Field for the past 17 years. In addi- tion to the alumni baseball game and rugby match, the children's games. Gabby the Clown, and Ed Drew's Old Timers to provide some ragtime music. Athletic Director Andy Geiger has is- sued an open invitation for the parents and their children to take a dip in the new pool just a few yards away from the main Field Day area. All Field Day events are free. The ninth Commencement Pops Concert should be one of the best be- cause of the presence of the talented Miss Costa, who was featured in the recent MGM movie. The Great Waltz. She will present "A Night in Vienna" as her portion of the program, while the Rhode Island Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted once again by Francis Ma- deira, will play a variety of show tunes and Pops favorites. Tickets for the Pops are $7 and $4.50, with reserved tables of ten avail- able for $70 and $45, respectively. Pa- tron subscriptions are available for $120, which includes ten tickets and a reserved table in a preferred location. Details for making reservations appear on the inside back cover of this magazine. The schedule for Sunday remains basically the same, with the Phi Beta Kappa luncheon for initiates and guests set for 12 noon at the Chancellor's Din- ing Room of the Sharpe Refectory, and the Baccalaureate Service and President's Reception following in the afternoon. For more detailed information on specific events, call the Alumni Office at (401) 863-2116. 'People are going to have to de- cide whether they want clean air' If you drive an automobile, how do you feel about the possibility that the car you purchase in 1975 will cost as much as $1,350 more than 1973 models, with no improvements other than anti- pollution devices? And how do you feel about the possibility that your already- decreased gasoline mileage might drop by another 25 percent? The prospects are discouraging, particularly in light of spiraling inflation. On the other hand, the statistics on vehicular pollution are available, and frightening. Nationwide, automobiles are responsible for 66 percent of the man-made carbon monoxide in the air, 48 percent of the hydrocarbons, 40 per- cent of the nitrogen oxides, and 90 per- cent of the lead emissions. These four auto-generated pollutants add up to a whopping 143 million tons a year (1969 approximate figure) infesting the air we breathe. Those figures are national aver- ages. In areas like Los Angeles and New York City, auto pollution concentra- tions are obviously much higher. If something is not done to curtail the emission output from automobiles, the cost, if only in terms of human health, will be catastrophic. High carbon mo- noxide levels clearly affect the heart, lungs, and nervous system, and there is speculation that lead emissions may im- pair the brain's functioning. This is a classic dilemma involving the future of two mammoth industries (automotive and oil) and the quality of our life. It will have a pronounced ef- fect on the nation's overall economy and on each individual car owner and city- dweller. Because of the immense poten- tial impact the outcome of the auto emis- sions question will have, it was the sub- ject of a special public symposium held at Brown on March 28. Broadcast live over WJAR-TV, the symposium was co-sponsored by the Rhode Island Tu- bercular and Respiratory Disease Asso- ciation, the Rhode Island Consortium on Environmental Protection, and Brown. It featured leaders from all the interest groups embroiled in the controversy: Herbert L. Misch, vice-president of the Ford Motor Company, and Sidney L. Terry, vice-president of the Chrys- ler Corporation; P. N. Gammelgard, vice-president for the American Pe- troleum Institute; Erik Stork of the Environmental Protection Agency, the government agency which sets and en- forces emission standards; and Dr. Stephen Ayres of St. Vincent's Hospital in New York City, presenting the issue in light of public health hazards. Ques- tions were put to these experts by Doug- las Edwards, CBS News; E. W. Ken- worthy, The New York Times; Dr. Al- len V. Kneese, of Resources for the Fu- ture, Inc. (Washington) ; and by mem- bers of the audience. The symposium at Brown came at a time of peak debate of the auto emis- sions crisis. Newspapers had been car- rying daily blow-by-blow accounts of the "Environmental Protection Agency vs. Auto Makers" struggle. The EPA, established by President Nixon in 1970, has shown its determination to enforce a 1975 deadline by which automobiles must meet the new, stiff standards on hydrocarbon and carbon monoxide emis- sions. Equally determined, the auto mak- ers, joined by the oil companies, are des- perately trying to exercise the one-year postponement statute of the Clean Air Act Amendments of 1970, saying they must have more time to comply with the standards.* The issue of time has been made hotter still by the announcement in early March by Japanese manufacturers that they can meet right now the EPA's stringent emissions standards for 1975. This development led Russell Baker to chide in his Neiv York Times column, "The auto companies in Detroit are un- able to solve the problem of reducing pollutant emissions to their govern- ment's satisfaction. . . . Something vital is missing in Detroit. . . . The Japanese have got the good old Ameri- can know-how!" Seemingly unimpressed by the for- eign competitors' claims, Terry came to his company's defense by saying that it's one thing to make a vehicle which could meet certification standards — but quite another to build one that would maintain the low emission level during five years of consumer use. He also expressed dismay that deadlines limit the approach to pollution control only to add-on devices such as the catalytic converter. "Our approach at Chrysler has been to start with the engine," he said, an approach which requires con- siderably more time than the EPA is offering. The necessary choice of the cata- lytic converter as the solution to emis- sions control has met with major re- sistance in the petroleum industry as well as from auto makers. "Frankly, the catalytic system is in my opinion not the way to go," said Gammelgard. The problem with such a system from the viewpoint of the oil industry is that it necessitates new low-lead fuels and cuts down on gasoline efficiency by as much as 30 per cent. With oil reserves dropping and oil imports on the rise, Gammelgard predicts, "This is going to be a sellers' market, and I think the price of gasoline is going to go up." Gammelgard further suggested that present pollution controls may be adequate, and that the stiffer standards * In mid-April, the EPA granted a one-year postponement of the 1975 deadline. for 1975 would simply cost more than they are worth. Disagreeing, Dr. Ayres cited discouraging evidence from the New York City area. There, moderate emission controls in effect since 1968 have had no measurable effect; in fact, there were increases in carbon monoxide levels in the New York air in 1972 as compared with the 1968 statistics. Rejecting the economic empha- sis of the industrial representatives. Stork said that the problem of environ- mental control involves bigger issues. "It is fundamentally a question of what the society puts its values on," he in- sisted. "People are finally going to have to make up their minds whether clean air is worth having." The Hermon C. Bumpus Professorship in Biology The University announced last month that a member of the class of 1912, Dr. Hermon Carey Bumpus, Jr., and Mrs. Bumpus, have financed a newly endowed chair, the Hermon C. Bumpus Professorship in Biology. The professor- ship is given in memory of Dr. Bumpus' father, who was graduated from Brown in 1884. Hermon Carey Bumpus served as a noted member of the Brown faculty, was secretary of the Corporation from 1924 to 1937, and was a Fellow of the University from 1905 to 1943. In commenting on the establishment of the new University chair. President Hornig said: "The relationship of the Bumpus family to Brown spans nearly a century. The Bumpus professorship will assure that this tradition will be carried forward throughout the life of the Uni- versity, and we are most grateful for this generosity which will have such a lasting impact on the quality of our educational programs." Following his graduation from Brown in 1912, Dr. Bumpus received his M.D. from Harvard in 1915. From 1920 to 1933 he was an associate at the Mayo Clinic and an associate professor at the Mayo Foundation. He accepted a post as professor at the College of Medical Evangelists in 1934, remaining until 1940 when he became chief of staff at St. Luke's Hospital in Pasadena. Through the years. Dr. Bumpus has remained close to his University. He was a trustee from 1949 to 1956 and was ac- tive in the Brown University Fund and the more recent development programs. Carrying the Bumpus family tradi- tion at Brown a step further. Dr. Bum] brother, Laurin Dudley Bumpus, is a member of the class of 1922 and Dr. Bumpus' son, William, is in the class i 1943. And although she is not a Brow graduate, Mrs. Hermon Carey Bumpu has been active in University affairs. The Bumpus gift contributed sub stantially to the record-breaking 60th reunion gift of more than $1 million I the class of 1912 last year. The new swimming | pool meets the press I They didn't make a big splash ! about it, probably because there wasij water in the pool. But the University ' did hold a press conference on March 28 to introduce the $2-million natato-J rium that will replace ancient (1902) Colgate Hoyt Pool. On hand to discuss the beautiful new structure with its circus tent root and Olympic-size pool were architecti Daniel Tully, builder Paul Hodess, an designer George R. Whitten, Jr., thref gentlemen who were obviously please with the result of their work. They hit a right to be. For example: the pool itself is on of the largest indoor dual facilities (it has both a full 50-meter Olympic lon| course and a 25-yard intercollegiate- scholastic short course) in the countn! included in the pool are 25-yard and 30-meter water polo areas in anticipa-' tion of a revival of that sport on Col- lege Hill; and the entire structure was* completed on schedule in just over eifl months. Located at Aldrich-Dexter Field about 150 yards due south of Meehar* Auditorium, the natatorium represent^ the first step in the University's atteir* to shore up its athletic facilities. Also' on the drawing board for future con- struction when sufficient funds are available are a field house and a gym-' nasium. Coach Ed Reed and Joe Watmou former Bruin coach, were on hand foi the press conference, both beaming broadly. "It's like a dream finally con' true," Watmough said. Athletic Direcf Andy Geiger also was there to an- nounce that Brown has put in a bid t( j host the National Collegiate Athletic Association swimming championship I in 1976. The new pool contains some of tt BROWN ""«»•»»„ -""•••••«•".„„ "•••-««,.„,„ 't^men watch (far left) at the press conference in the new $2-miUion swimming pool. modern equipment currently avail- il The electric scoreboard will regis- r le "running" time of the swimmers . eight lanes while the race is in cress. And there is an underwater ii ovv for the use of the coach in ob- rng the mechanics and strokes of his Kilmers. The camera behind the win- »vis equipped to shoot in 8, 16, or 35 n film. The chlorination system is auto- a; and the water level of the pool jk>e automatically maintained. The ir will be heated and treated three bi a day, and there are even ducts lep the floor warm in the area sur- iiding the pool so that the swimmers t be exposed to cold air. Seating capacity will be 1,500, hh is about 1,350 more than could ! owded into Colgate Hoyt. The floor Uiides of the pool are covered with iftmillion colorful one-inch tiles. Right now the natatorium includes a offices, lockers, and shower rooms. The area will house squash courts even- tually — which, in laymen's terms, means when additional funds are forthcoming. The prefabricated side walls and roof were erected in seven weeks last fall, with the help of a crane. The in- terior and exterior roof design is sim- ilar to the circus tent peaks used in the Olympic complex at Munich last sum- mer, except that the Brown roof is made of wood rather than steel and plastic. In the midst of this beautiful build- ing with all its modern equipment, when it came time to start putting water into the pool, designer George Whitten broke out an old garden hose — one that had been extensively patched at that. "I figured it would take 14 days to fill the pool to its capacity of 604,000 gallons by using this hose," Whitten said. "But we really have installed some modern equipment to fill the pool. The garden hose was purely symbolic. Hon- est it was." :feyt^9^^rrj >.3 AMIGA pledges $100,000 to the medical program For years, the Automobile Mutual Insurance Company of America (AMIC A) has been joshingly referred to as the downtown Providence branch of Brown University, in tribute to the large num- ber of alumni who work there. Last month AMICA laid added claim to its ties with Brown by announcing that it will contribute $100,000 over a five-year period to the development of the Uni- versity's medical program. Ernest C. Wilks '36, chairman of the board, and Deforest W. Abel, Jr., presi- dent, joined in saying that "the conver- sion of Brown's present six-year program into a full medical school presents a unique opportunity to the entire Rhode Island community." In expressing his appreciation. Pres- ident Hornig called the contribution "of significant value in setting a standard for the remainder of the Rhode Island cor- porate community." Carrying the mail Letters to the editor are welcome. They should be on subjects of interest to readers of this magazine with emphasis on an exchange of views and discussion of ideas. All points of view are welcome, but for reasons of space, variety, and timeliness, the staff may not publish all letters it receives and may use excerpts from others. The magazine will not print unsigned letters or ones that request that the author's name be withheld. A vote for 'Mrs.' Editor: In reply to Ms. Joyce L. An- driks '72 {BAM, February), I have been out of college a little longer than you (say, like 43 years), and in that time I've gained an advanced degree, a good husband, three children, and seven grandchildren while feeling quite liberated and able enough to "do my own thing" without benefit of change of title to Ms. I have also gained enough wisdom, I believe, to know that one shouldn't make such sweeping state- ments as you have sponsored in the BAM about "the preferred form of address." There are, in fact, Joyce, many "sensi- tive individuals," graduates of Brown, from the 1920's to the 1970's, whom I know (I'll supply, upon request, a list of names, with their permission) who still prefer to be addressed by that "archaic" (as you term it) four-letter word Miss or the three-letter designation Mrs., as the case may be. I am sure that they would never feel "over- whelmed by acute dismay" when so ad- dressed; on the contrary, they would more likely be both distressed and amused by being addressed by that ambiguous two- letter abbreviation Ms. which covers a mul- titude of sins (pardon me! I mean situa- tions) : it is so nondescript that it rather makes one neither fish nor fowl. Yet if you prefer Ms. and can succeed in the frustrating endeavor to get an IBM machine to respond to your wishes (they are often hard of hearing), more power to you! But please, Joyce, just speak for your- self. You will eventually learn that it's not what you're called but what you are that counts. Suum cuiquel VERNA FOLLETT SPAETH '30 Cromwell, Conn. Finds Ms. 'offensive' Editor; Re: letter of Joyce Andriks '72. "Ms. . . . the preferred form of ad- dress that ceased to be an avant garde ges- ture and is now widely used by the more sensitive individuals and institutions, if not by the general populace." Come off it, Joyce! I find Ms. most offensive because I am not confused about my own identity nor have I ever found the need to blur it de- liberately for anyone else. I am among the women who find such things as a furor about Ms. and quotas for women most demeaning. There are women who have a solid faith and confidence in their own abil- ities to accomplish the goals of their choice; for these women, the psychology under- lying the promotion of Ms. is downright embarrassing. The advocates of Ms. etc. do their cause a great disservice. Many women have been actively concerned in improving the status of women for decades, yet they are driven off by attitudes illustrated in the letter I quoted. It is unfortunate that women waste time and energy on such trivia as Ms. If BAM chooses to go along with Joyce Andriks as far as Ms. is concerned for her- self, that's up to BAM. Please don't offend those of us who suffer no such confusions about our identity by accepting her state- ment about the "preferred form" as valid for all. MABEL M. ANDERSON '60GS Pawtuckef, R.I. Sullivan's 'moral dilemma'? Editor: It would be pleasant to bask in the reflected glory of William Sullivan as your article in the February issue en- couraged Brown graduates to do. It would seem to me that your story on the former Ambassador to Laos did a serious disserv- ice to an educated and thoughtful reader- ship in failing to address the real issue. William Sullivan, from your descrip- tion, obviously fits what David Halberstam has classified as "the Best and the Bright- est." He is intelligent, competent in the foreign service, singled out by Averill Har- riman as an accomplisher, and a decent man as well. Yet in his years as Ambassa- dor to Laos, the villages of the Plaine de Jarres were obliterated, the Meo tribesmen decimated, and a substantial number of unknowing peasants uprooted and rendered refugees. In the rare glimpses of Sullivan on TV, he invariably denied the presence of Americans in Laos. One can accept the statement of your article and Halberstam's book that Sullivan acted to "prevent the U.S. military from indiscriminately bombing villages to deny them to the Communists," but the eviderj is that such bombing took place continu-l ously over a long period of time. Given ' these conditions, a profound moral di- | lemma is created — whether one is useful staying and working from the inside or should one sacrifice career and leave the service. Either decision requires that one is accountable and it is to this issue that . a responsible alumni monthly would havii directed its readers. If we who are recipients of as fine ai education as this country has to offer car not come to grips with this kind of tragic question, who do you think will? BARBARA CAMPBELL WOODBURY '39 Portlat^d, Maine 'An intellectual and moral cesspool' Editor: Historians have said that at time of the American War for Independ- ence one third of the populace in the col'i nies supported independence, one third c posed it, and another third were unde- cided. If Brown alumni were polled, I suspect their attitudes towards the Uni- versity might fall in similar proportions. Each month we receive the BAM, th editors of which might be likened to the crafty tailors to the emperor who had nci clothes. Unable to present the University, as it really is, they concoct an image whi they feel will please the "alumni." What there in the University that seems to cor mand so little respect and loyalty from i graduates? Basically, I think it is an esse tial phoniness that drives people away. I have long since given up the thou| of sending the school a nickel because it has lost touch with reality, because it ha deleterious effects on the young, and be- cause its search for truth and imparting to its students is essentially a sham. I re gret to say that I would never send one my children to Brown. Under the guise i promoting individual responsibility, Bro abdicating any responsibility as substitu parents, tosses kids not dry behind the ears into an intellectual and moral cessp In time, most recover from this mid summer night's dream, but some never do. The Brown Alumni Monthly never makes too much of the Mazola parties, brazen use of the Brown computers by 2' drug ring on campus to do its billing, ar the low moral level in general. It is a cryi shame when naive parents, who spend t best part of their lives, energies, and fc tunes bringing up children to be decent and law abiding, turn them loose into a atmosphere that promotes the worst in kids. And it is a crime that the Univers: cannot provide a little more structured . i 10 I ijioritarian atmosphere where freedom ,f,i not be license. ' The search for truth at Brown has al- /. s been held up as some kind of holy f;olies. Yet, I can say without equivoca- k, that it would be impossible for the Ci)ol to produce a graduate who was even hlitly more conservative than when he r red four years before (although I'd be 1 led to hear of one). Usually the radi- a^ation process begins in high school n is completed at Brown and other insti- i)ns of "higher learning." When I went 3 :hool I had an American Civilization Tructor whose job it was supposed to be jelp us in our senior years to tie to- cier what we had garnered from all the i rrent disciplines. What a laugh! When I >. back at this super left-wing snow job 3 outside reading assignments were from 7 Neiv Republic and The Nation), I be- ae embarrassed to find how naive I was. ii a liberal faculty which controls the i ig perpetuates itself. This pursuit of :n at Brown has degenerated into a kind f atechizing in modern liberal totali- lanism. A few months ago I sent a letter to iijditor of the BAM, imparting a little iirmation about the dubious background fayard Rustin, a recent recipient of a rvn honorary degree. To date the letter a'not been printed, neither have I been )!'why it wasn't. Just silence . . . the ilice of the censor at this great institute ) he pursuit of truth. Possibly the edi- ) may feel the letter a little strong for Voages of their saccharine magazine, but ft Rustin was a little strong to be a re- ij'nt of an honorary degree at Brown. K editors may rest assured that a copy ibe sent to the members of the Cor- tion whether they choose to print it or The sad facts of life are that in this J'ltry constitutional government has e\ eroded and is being replaced by a aerous bureaucratic tyranny. Our na- cal defense posture is in serious trouble, lie we fall all over ourselves to disarm, k moral level sinks lower and lower, i currency is being debauched, and the lli'ches are apostate. ||il think it is entirely proper that the ^.'ersity should shore up what remains i er than be in the vanguard of the 'I king crew. Anyone who has ever built nhing knows how delicate and fragile ututions are, how long they take to Ud, and how quickly they can be de- liyed. Until Brown can act as a preserver El not prepared to give it support. Brown lost touch with reality at that Ct at which the faculty and the students ein to run the University. 1) The faculty and the students drove ROTC off the campus, while the adminis- tration, the Corporation, and the alumni, who all opposed the move, looked on, seemingly powerless. 2) The black recruitment program is a fraud, racism in reverse. The sad fact of the matter is that at this point it is im- possible, for whatever reason, to scare up many qualified Negro students, no matter how many Negro deans, administration officers, and professors are put on the staff. And it is almost criminal when qualified white students are denied admission to Brown. 3) Brown is launching a medical school at a time when it's running operational deficits in millions per year, and selling its endowment. The cry is that the Rhode Is- land area needs a medical school, but I secretly suspect that this plan is the prod- uct of a few ambitious men who want to put Brown into the big time. I think the loyalty that Brown alumni should render their University must be in direct proportion to that loyalty with which Brown fulfills its traditional function of pursuing truth and guiding young people toward responsible and creative citizenship. CLARKE E. RYDER '61 Barrington, R.I. Letters from readers are welcome, particu- larly those "with emphasis on an exchange of views and discussion of ideas" (see italic type at beginning of section). The editors will not, however, print letters which deal largely in personalities or are attacks on individuals. The earlier letter to which the writer refers was almost exclusively an attack on Bayard Rustin. — Editor Dominoes at home Editor: Your description of the ques- tions and answers with Chuck Colson (BAM, February) was interesting and re- vealing. Mr. Colson referred to the Water- gate break-in as "a very stupid thing to do." Does he not realize how much worse than stupid it was? Does he not recognize that activities of the Watergate type under- mine the American system of democracy more effectively than could any agent of a foreign power acting with the worst pos- sible intentions? As a loyal member of the President's personal staff, Mr. Colson may not under- stand this; but the shocking aspect of 1972 was that over 60 percent of the voters did not see this sign of spiraling tragedy. Dominoes can be played at home as well as overseas. GEORGE WALLERSTEIN '51 Seattle, Wash. 'Dismayed' at the costs of education Editor: With the December issue, my interest in BAM picked up. It became, like the Pembroke Alumna, one of the maga- zines I have to read. I shared the report on "Blacks at Brown" with a Vassar alumna. I ordered a book of poems by Michael S. Harper, an associate professor. Now my interest is sustained by the February number, by Beth Gerber's fine re- port of Mari Jo Buhle's course, and other articles and reports, including the last page. I shall be glad to hear more about the progress of the women's movement at Brown. But I am dismayed that it costs over $5,000 to send a young person to college for one year. All colleges are conducting drives for millions of dollars. We might consider for a few moments the state of the nation, the widening gulf between the affluent and the needy. Students, more than ever, are a privileged class. We need trained leadership and schol- ars, but many alumni must believe, as I do, that Ivy League colleges are spending too much on competitive sports. ISABEL TAYLOR '18 Dunedin, Fla. 'Disgusted' Editor: ". . . as the name of old Brown in loud chorus we praise." (?) Our Alma Mater might just as well be relegated to the same status as our na- tional anthem in deference to the posterior position assumed by our Brown basketball cheerleaders. Disgusted — JOHN V. MC CULLOCH '50 Warwick, R.I. 'Disappointed reader' Editor: An alumnus' wife comments ... It was evident that the editor who wrote the article on LBJ's visit certainly hadn't been there. Reading his comments brought back many memories of that morn- ing and not at all like it was written. It would be interesting now if you found someone in the alumni office who was present at that event and have him or her write the story as it was! A disappointed reader! MRS. THEODORE F. (KAY) LOW Providence, R.I. The BAM's editors, who wrote the mate- rial quoted, were present that day. — Editor 11 An experimental theater in Lyman Gym? That's right-and this is the way it will look when Brown's theater arts center is completed . . . 12 EXPt-^ 1 NA EMTK L T H EATi^S 13 'Last spring we got a call asking if we could be ready to moVj into Lyman Gym. Could we! We were in the next day' A renaissance is taking place in the theater arts at Brown. A depart- ment that just a few years ago was hav- ing trouble holding its talented young staff because the future looked so bleak has recently taken several giant steps and is now on the threshold of benefit- ing from one of the most extensive and exciting face-liftings seen on the main campus in many a year. Plans have been completed by Sa- saki, Dawson, DeMay Associates of Watertown, Mass., for the complete ren- ovation of Lyman Hall (formerly Lyman Gym) and Colgate Hoyt Pool into an experimental theater and dance studio and for the creation of a beautiful new entrance way and lobby off Waterman Street. The plans represent an imagina- tive and economical solution to crowded conditions that had become unbearable for those involved. With a price tag of $950,000, the project still represents a major outlay for a University that has operated substan- tially in the red for the past three years. But the plans are a far cry from the $6- million performing arts center that had been proposed, discussed, and then ta- bled several years ago as being too rich for Brown's blood. "The University has long been aware of the need for new facilities for the theater arts," says Marion Wolk, co- ordinator for the arts. "The performing arts center was included in the Program for the Seventies, but the $6-million fig- ure seemed out of the question. So the Sasaki-Dawson planners worked with the faculty and administration in the search for a structurally strong building that because of its location would be ap- propriate for conversion into a theater. They found it in Lyman Gym. "There is one other advantage to the approach the University decided to take," Mrs. Wolk continues. "Instead of getting new quarters in the distant fu- ture, the seriously hampered theater arts department will be getting them in the foreseeable future. This is very impor- tant." Last spring the Planning and Build- ing Committee of the Corporation unani- mously approved the Sasaki-Dawson renovation schemes. At that time. Presi- dent Hornig said, "The more we have studied the sites and plans, and mulled over new versus intelligently re-used older structures, the more pleased we are with the ingenious renovation plans." In Lyman Hall, Brown will have 20,000 square feet of additional space, which, importantly, is located next door to Faunce House, thus creating a thea- ter arts center right in the heart of the campus. Included in the new facilities will be an experimental theater seating 150 or more, a cafe theater, a green room-library, five dressing rooms, re- hearsal and teaching areas, eight faculty offices, two classrooms, a board room, a film screening room, four additional cine- matography spaces, four soundproof speech booths, and a spacious dance studio made possible by the flooring over of Colgate Hoyt Pool. The new area will be strikingly set off by three courtyards, which will combine to give a new look to that section of the campus. The Waterman Street Courtyard (see cover) will be located between the rear of the Faunce House Theater and the Hunter Psychology Laboratory. The Lincoln Field Courtyard will front the south side of Lyman, just to the rear of Sayles Hall and overlooking old Lincoln Field, the University's athletic field at the turn of the century. The small Gar- den Courtyard will be on the north side of Lyman Gym, where the old pitching cage now stands. The two key areas in the renovation plans are the experimental theater and the dance studio. The University has moved boldly, seeking the best possible professional advice before putting the final touches on these plans. This spring, through the efforts of President Hornig and Mrs. Wolk, Broadway producer Burt Shevelove '37 was invited to spend a day at Brown (see companion story) so that he could make a detailed inspec- tion of Lyman Hall and, hopefully, pro- pose practical modifications that would make for better theater. Most of Sheve- love's suggestions have already been incorporated into the plans. Last fall another Brown graduate, this one with expertise in the field of dance, was brought to the campus to provide assistance in the somewhat tricky conversion of Colgate Hoyt Pool into a dance studio. Don S. Anderson '65 has a master of fine arts degree froi Yale and for two years has been directc of dance for the National Endowment for the Arts. During the time he managed the highly successful Utah Repertory Dane Theater, Anderson was involved twice in converting pools into dance spaces a the University of Utah. After two days at Brown, Anderson made a series of seven recommendations on Colgate Ho Pool. One — aimed at practicality as we as preservation — would have the danct floor laid all the way to the marble wal not just over the pool area, with the brass bars now around the pool affixed to the walls. "Flexibility is the key to the exper mental theater," Mrs. Wolk says. "The department can put on theater-in-the- round, three-quarter, standard prosce- nium, or free arrangement of seats wit the actors mingling with the audience. By using the running track as a balcon Elizabethan theater will also be possib' This experimental theater will give dra matics at Brown an entirely new look. "Another benefit to these plans is the preservation of perhaps the most vital Victorian building on College Hil Lyman Hall, built in 1891, is importan historically to Brown, to Providence, and to American architecture." According to present plans, the the' ater arts area will be constructed three phases. Stage one will include th theater proper and its supporting area such as dressing rooms, lighting, stagi and offices. The second stage will be tl dance studio, while stage three will in elude the new courtyards and the lobb Last June, Mr. Hornig made it cle that money must be in hand for each stage before Brown will proceed on t, phase of the renovation. As coordinati for the arts, Mrs. Wolk has major re 14 )onsibility for raising the funds for the irnan Hall project from individuals 'id foundations. She indicates that Mr. ornig's financial thinking of last spring usn't changed. ,' "Our timetable depends strictly on e funds available," she says, "both for je theater arts center and the new mu- : complex on the East Campus (for- :erly Bryant College). Support for the eater arts in general is increasing, hich could be a hopeful sign that the •cessary funds will be coming in. Ear- .T this month, for example, the Sam S. Iiubert Foundation in New York City newed its $10,000 grant for playwrit- g, and officials there indicated that a .'ft will also be forthcoming for the the- .er center. If we got a check for $950,- nO from someone tomorrow, I'd call the .•chitect and say, 'Let's go.' " Theater has been an important part ■ the Brown community since the lOO's, when Hammer and Tongs pro- aced a series of lively musicals. Sock ad Buskin has been producing plays eadily since 1901, Komiens was active . Pembroke for close to 40 years, and .'ownbrokers has been giving the Uni- rsity original musicals since 1935. |) The last decade or so has seen •own theater grow even further. Pro- iction Workshop was founded in 1960 •/ students to present experimental •ama, and Rites and Reason (a black eater group) was started in 1969. The 'own Modern Dance Group developed 1971 into the Rhode Island Dance spertory Company. Summer Theater, nvironmental Theater, and cinematog- phy also have sprung up in the past w years. In the spring of 1972, Brown was vited to perform at La Mama Experi- 'ental Theater in New York City, an ^portunity rarely given a college the- rical group. Brown theater also has 'en making a marked contribution to Jfe quality and substance of community e. Drama has been taken into the black jmmunity, faculty and students have I sen taking poetry into schools across e state, and more and more outside ■cups are coming on campus to study fama and dance. I All these innovative moves have |3en made in spite of, rather than be- :iuse of, the facilities available. Because the obstacles imposed by the pain- liUy restrictive quarters, much time and [lergy that could be better spent is con- mned in working out logistics for re- ;arsal and performance. At the same time, the potentially innovative work of which Brown's performing artists are capable is impossible because of the limitations of the spaces that they now occupy. At the present time, most drama activity takes place in Faunce House Theater. This building was suitable in 1929 when it opened but leaves some- thing to be desired today when the stu- dent body is three times larger. The past few years. Production Workshop has utilized the Faunce House Art Gallery, an area that, in charitable terms, might be described as unsuitable for theater productions of any kind. The load that the Faunce House The- ater has to carry is fantastic. It is the only appropriate place on campus for play rehearsals and for classes in acting, directing, and experimental thea- ter — classes that are being taken by some 750 students yearly. In addition, because the theater has the only 35-mm. pro- jection equipment on campus, the Uni- versity's film series is also shown there. Currently, dance performances have to be sandwiched in between produc- tions of plays and films. Cinematog- raphy is parceled out in several unlikely campus locations, while speech and de- bate are also fragmented and do not have the proper storage and practice spaces. "It is clear," Mrs. Wolk said re- cently, "that Faunce House Theater, handicapped by an inflexible proscenium stage and lack of supportive space, is expected to serve so many masters that it is failing all of them — at an ever- accelerating pace." With the prospect of these crowded Lyman Gymnasium — as an artist saw it in 1891. conditions finally being alleviated, it's only natural that Don Wilmeth, associ- ate professor of English and acting di- rector of dramatics, is wearing a broad smile as he walks the campus this spring. "When I came to Brown six or seven years ago," Wilmeth says, "every- thing we dreamed about or tried to do seemed impossible. At that time the col- lege was very science-oriented, or seemed so to us. We couldn't get anyone to say that the arts were important. Even lip service would have given our morale a boost — but we didn't even get that. "I came here never having seen the campus. After the first year I wondered why I came. Or stayed. The three of us who arrived at Brown at about the same time — John Lucas, John Emigh, and I — made a pact that we weren't going to stay at this place unless something hap- pened. So we made waves. We got some people angry with us. But we also re- ceived some commitments that brought about a gradual growth. As long as growth was visible we agreed to hang on." When Wilmeth arrived at Brown, the University had only three courses in the theater, no concentration, and a small staff of three people. A major step for- ward came in 1968 with the granting of a degree program in Theater Arts and Dramatic Literature. There have been other moves. Dance has been added to the curriculum, with credit; a technical theater and design course was intro- duced; cinematography was added with a part-time instructor, and next fall it will have one full-time person and one part-time; and there is now a course on the history and criticism of the theater. 15 where six years ago Brown had three courses in theater arts it now has 20 semester courses. Professor Wilmeth credits three things with the improved stature of the- ater arts at Brown. The first was the formation of an Arts Council in the spring of 1968. This organization, which had approval of the entire faculty, served as a vehicle for publicly portraying the plight of the arts. It also helped to keep the staff together and gave them an op- portunity to discuss their mutual prob- lems and think about possible solutions. The next two steps, according to Professor Wilmeth, were appointments — of Jacquelyn A. Mattfeld as dean of academic affairs and then of Mrs. Wolk as coordinator for the arts. "Jackie Mattfeld is the only top administrator we have who was trained as an artist," Wilmeth says. "She is a musicologist. Jackie's been a big help in her quiet, efficient way. She doesn't push — but she gets things done." One of the things Dean Mattfeld "got done" was the creation of the po- sition of coordinator for the arts and the subsequent appointment of Mrs. Wolk to that job. This, according to Professor Wilmeth, was a "concrete step" in im- proving the position of theater at Brown. "Artists by our very nature aren't very good at writing proposals for funds," Wilmeth says, "and Mimi Wolk was hired mainly for that purpose. But she's done so many more things, such as organizing events and putting out a newsletter. The key is that this is the first time we have had someone in a position of authority devoting five days a week to our cause. Mimi has been a giant plus as a morale factor." Despite the additional programs and some friends in high places within the University, theater arts couldn't shake its most persistent problem — the lack of space. Under these circumstances. Professor James O. Barnhill, the chair- man of the department who is on sab- batical in India this year, and his staff could be excused for casting coveting glances at Lyman Gym. There was some sentiment on the part of the University to allow theater arts to expand some- where on the old Bryant campus, but no one in the department was about to sec- ond that motion. All hands were in agreement that only a building relatively close to Faunce House would promote what was most desired — the creation of a theater arts center. "There were rumors that Lyman Hall might become available," Wilmeth notes. "Frankly, none of us believed that anything would come of all this talk. Then last spring we were told that the Air Force would be leaving Lyman in the summer and could we be ready to move in. Could we! We were in Lyman the day after the Air Force departed in August. For the first time all the mem- bers of the department have offices in the same building. It's a minor miracle. "There's no question that when the funds are finally in and we get our new experimental theater at Lyman, we will be able to have a more diversified thea- ter program at Brown. But even with the space limitations we've had it's amaz- ing to see what has been happening to our students since the degree program in theater arts was established in 1968. "Before that, all we had to offer a student interested in theater was an in- tensive acting course called English 23-24 plus a couple of speech courses. Some- times the students could parlay this training with their own natural talent and make it to the stage, movies, or TV. Now the students leave Brown with the same practical stage experience but also with academic training in such things as theater history, criticism, directing, dance, film, technical theater, and design. "The point is that our young people now have a better sense of direction when they leave us. They can sense their options better. We now have a dozen or so in graduate schools all over the country. One man is in the dance program at Juilliard and another has been accepted for next fall. Two are dancing professionally in two of the leading modern dance programs in the country, very small and selective com- panies. And in the last few years we've had two of our Sock and Buskin gradu- ates become leading ladies at Trinity Square Repertory Theater — Jobeth Wil- liams '70 and Kate Young '71. "We've been just an eyelash away. Now, Lyman Hall can put us over the top. A space like Lyman will be a teach- ing and learning center. This is impor- tant beyond its use as a theater itself because we just haven't had any space for experimentation." Everyone from Mrs. Wolk and Chairman Barnhill on down realizes that Lyman Hall won't solve all of the thea- ter's problems. The University may eventually need a new proscenium thea- ter seating between 400 and 500 people. I This would allow the present Faunce | House Theater to become a movie house f for the expanding cinematography pro- I gram. And Brown also needs a scene shop For years the "scene shop" has been the Faunce House stage, which meant that you couldn't hold rehearsals or classes in the theater if a set was being built. When and if a new theater is constructed, present plans call for the back stage area in the present Faunce House to become the scene shop. "It may seem incongruous to be talking in terms of a new proscenium theater when we still have to find the funds to finance the three stages of construction already approved at Ly- man," Wilmeth says. "But, then, an artist has to have some of the dreamer in him or he isn't worth his salt. Fortu- nately for those of us in the theater arts at Brown, the dark ages appear to be behind us. Our dreams are getting bet- ter all the time." J.Ei 16 i 'In show business, you cherish the 'ups' and drive the 'downs' from your memory"- Burt Shevelove • m any directors or producers would ./A be content to have two smash l.s on Broadway in a hfetime. A few unths ago Burt Shevelove '37 had two £/ard-winning musicals competing for t? entertainment dollar on the Great Ihite Way — A funny Thing Happened L the Way to the forum and No, No, imette. An established name on Broadway id in television for the past 25 years, S evelove made one of his rare visits t the campus in March to assist with pns for improving Brown's facilities Ir theater arts by converting Lyman (/m and Colgate Hoyt Pool into an ex- [rimental theater. He was excited by Mat he saw and plans to return shortly t spend some time with the students. For Shevelove, one of the founders ( Brownbrokers 38 years ago this ;ring, the campus visit would have been .rhance for reminiscing — if he had ien given the time to sit back and think about the past. But he wasn't. His one- day whirlwind visit began at 10 a.m. when he was met at Boston's Logan Airport by Marion Wolk, Brown's coor- dinator for the arts, and three members of the English Department, Don Wil- meth, John Lucas, and John Emigh. Before his day ended, Shevelove spent several hours exploring every niche and corner of Lyman Gym, visited both the old and the new swimming pools, attended a dinner in his honor, and then settled down to watch the Brownbrokers production of Jhe Play Without the Play. Early the next morn- ing he flew to New York, where he was making plans for a trip to London to direct the British version of No, No, Nanette with Dame Anna Nagle. Shevelove seemed at home in Ly- man Gym. He spread the architect's plans for the renovation on the floor, huddled around them with Mrs. Wolk, the members of the English Department, and Siu-Chim Chan of the construction planning office, and made a series of suggestions that were crisp and to the point. Warning that he was looking at the facility strictly through the eyes of a director, Shevelove commented on al- ternate uses of space and on the lighting and staging. But for the most part he liked what he saw. When Burt Shevelove is excited, he takes off his glasses and uses them to point with as he sweeps his arm in a circling motion for emphasis. During his two hours at Lyman Gym, Shevelove's glasses were off more often than they were on. He admitted later that he had fallen in love with the 1891 building and with its possibilities for future use. "Lyman Gym excites me," he said. "Everything about it says experimental theater. If you want a conventional play, you can produce it here. If you want a play in the round, well, that's OK, too. "Flexibility is the key. Keep every- 'chitects' drawing before them, Shevelove (center) talks with Professor John Emigh and Siu-Chim Chan of the/construction planning office ^ . '■>>• '"^^ 17 thing mobile. This way when the audi- ence comes to Lyman it will never know how things will be set up. At Faunce House the audience knows that it will be in the seats and that the actors will be up there somewhere on the stage. It's all very pat and conventional." Shevelove felt strongly that the heritage of Lyman Gym should be pre- served whenever possible. "Leave the chummy old architectural stuff up there," he said, pointing his glasses to- ward some of the original 1891 carvings on the ceiling. "In no way should we destroy what Lyman once was. Leave the old walls and even the pipes. But for gosh sakes, let's get some new light- ing and a fresh coat of paint. Whoever picked the colors that are here now hated people." At one point, Shevelove looked up at the running track that once com- pletely circled the old gym. "A great place for the audience — leave that," he said. "We'll have to," Professor Wilmeth replied, grinning, "what's left of the track supports part of the auditorium." Colgate Hoyt Pool brought back some memories for Shevelove, none of them pleasant. In the 1930's when a student missed a swimming class he was assigned 15 lengths of the pool as his punishment. After that, each time he was absent from swimming the punish- ment was doubled. Shevelove recalls that his attendance record at Colgate Hoyt was rather spotty, at best. "In the spring of my senior year I received a note from the dean saying that I had to swim 1,000 lengths of the pool before I could graduate. Hell, I couldn't lualk 1,000 lengths of the pool, even if the pool was empty. Fortunately, the swimming coach, Leo Barry, was a very flexible man, one who was willing to sit down and compromise. We finally settled on a figure that represented a substantially reduced sentence. I gradu- ated." If Shevelove made every effort to re- main at a safe distance from Colgate Hoyt, he couldn't spend enough time at the Faunce House Theater. He had a built-in love for all things dramatic. There was only one problem facing a budding actor, producer, writer, or director at Brown in the 1930's. Sock and Buskin, the undergraduate dramatic society, was a closed shop. A small clique ran S&B and few outsiders were encouraged to join. Many Brown stu- (J;>)^£>VP1K.L>'- dents with a bent in this direction had to get their theatrical kicks off campus in such organizations as The Players. This situation bothered Shevelove and some of his friends, among them Wally Coetz '36 and Carolyn Troy '35. Several other things bothered this group — such as the fact that there was at that time no musical theater at Brown and that Pembrokers still were not allowed to participate in Sock and Buskin pro- ductions. Shevelove and his group decided to try to break all three barriers at once by starting their own undergraduate the- ater, including Pembrokers, and produc- ing a musical. Getting the cooperation of Pembroke Dean Margaret S. Morriss, who gave her "OK" for the Pembrokers to participate, Brownbrokers was formed in the winter of 1935 and almost imme- diately went into production on its first musical, Somethin' Brum. "We really had a tiger by the tail with our first show," Shevelove recalls. "It was a revue with 23 numbers and about the same number of directors, one for each skit. Anyone with a gag or a song automatically became part of the company. Our pitch was to the students, not the community. The undergraduates loved it and we awoke the morning after opening night to find ourselves famous, on the campus at least, and rich. "The reaction of the faculty and administration in those first few months was something else. We weren't met with mere opposition. We were met with outright scorn. The word went out that those upstarts from Brownbrokers would have to get a faculty advisor. So we got Professor I. J. Kapstein '26. "Our shows were irreverent and casual. And I do mean casual. Some- times the night before we were sched- uled to open we'd find that the show was three numbers short. So we'd stay up until 3 or 4 a.m. writing additional skits. "As a faculty advisor. Professor Kapstein was great. Any time we needed him he was there, and he was under- standing. Kappy was one of the few men on the faculty at that time who believed that a little irreverence and frivolity was an integral part of college life. He believed that you didn't have to be joyless to be academic." Brownbrokers ran into one unex- pected problem. The shows became so popular that the organization found it- self with an embarrassment of riches — some $4,000 in the bank. The group spent almost nothing on the productions There were no lavish sets. Just fun, gags, and music. In what Shevelove de- ' scribes as a "desperate attempt" to get i rid of some of the funds, Brownbrokers ! started giving an annual scholarship to J the University. ; "We were becoming big business," I Shevelove says. "And the shows were }. becoming very grandiose, with a canopy' on the Waterman Street entrance to the theater, a uniformed doorman, and a , full orchestra in the pit." i According to Shevelove, Brown- i brokers came of age in the spring of 1937 when Henry M. Wriston, Brown's ' new president, quoted from one of the \ shows in a chapel talk. For Brownbrok- ; ers this was a status symbol. The or- ganization had arrived. If Shevelove remembers Henry Wriston \vith clarity, it's also a fair bet that Brown's eleventh president has vivid memories of the somewhat brash student from Newark. It all centered around the Spring Day address given in 1937 by Burton G. Shevelove. Shortly after his arrival at Brown in February of 1937, President Wriston strongly denounced the Italian dictator, Benito Mussolini, in a major speech delivered at the Biltmore Hotel, a speed that received international attention. A;' the spring wore on, Mr. Wriston took some additional "shots" at Mussolini. It was too ripe a situation for Sheve- love to pass by in his Spring Day ad- dress. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, opening his remarks, "this is a lovely, peaceful spring afternoon here on the College Green. It probably will remain this way — unless, of course, Mussolini sends his planes over to get Wriston." The audience roared. Burt Shevelove's next four years were spent at the Yale Drama School, first as a student and then as director o' dramatics. One of his high spots at Nei Haven was Too Many Boys, which was considered the best show on campus since 1914 when Cole Porter produced Paranoia. When World War II arrived, Shev love went into the American Field Serv ice with the British Army. His chief contribution to the world of theater during those years was a servicemen's show at a rest camp near Cairo, with nothing but stagestruck ambulance dri' 18 E. of the British Field Service to use as TLis "girls" and leading "ladies." After the war, Shevelove went back I, writing. Collaborating with four of I- former Yale pupils, he produced 5ia/i [Voider. This 1948 show, which hi Tom Ewell in the lead, had only fair srcess, but it did introduce Gower C.ampior. to Broadway as a dance direc- t . And it did give the young Brown giduate the courage to try again. When Shevelove followed by writ- li; the book and lyrics for A Month of Sndays, his hopes were high that this V s the one that would put him over t) top. Unfortunately, the audiences din't share his enthusiasm for the play. "I really felt that this would be a b.gie," he recalls. "But the play died — ad in Philadelphia, of all places! It was araumatic experience for me. It taught n that you really need a thick skin on Ejadway." Not yet having a tough enough hide, Shevelove abandoned the theater ad turned to television. He wrote a rmber of TV shows, including the "ell Telephone Hour." Then, working v:h Larry Gelbart, and with Art Car- r/ as his star, Shevelove wrote a se- rs of specials that brought to television s.ne of its most hilarious material, so- pisticated spoofs that were rare on the t)e at that time. "There was a need for satire, for cticism on television," Shevelove says, ''ut very few writers were getting the b.king to take this sort of approach. Lrry Gelbart and I were lucky. Our pjducer was David Susskind. He kept t ■ sponsors away and gave us a free l-nd." Shevelove earned an Emmy for his T efforts, and recognition, too. But Ejadway was always lurking in the trkground. One evening as he sat in a I'ater watching Eddie Fay's antics in fc'ama Came, Shevelove was reminded chow seldom basic humor was on \ \v. Some scars from A Month of Sun- fus still remained — but he decided to g'e the stage another try. While at Yale, Shevelove had writ- ti a comedy based on a play by Plau- t:. Once again collaborating with ( Ibart, he took this material and fash- i led A Funny Thing Happened on the Iiy to the Forum, a musical the two r;n originally described as "a scenario i- vaudevillians." Shevelove recalls that 1961 experi- ence: "Our original intention was to do a low, traditional comedy that would make people laugh, and do it stylishly — the same basic humor that people laughed at 2,300 years ago. There was only one hitch after we put what we thought was a pretty good show to- gether. The out-of-town critics were used to the musicals with lavish sets and costumes and with a large chorus. We had just a single set and our musical was funny, ridiculous, mad. But until it reached Broadway, it was generally mis- understood. "Even though we kept getting panned by the critics, the audiences seemed to respond warmly to Funny Thing. Then one night in Washington everything seemed to go wrong. The critics were really on our backs and Larry and I were working late trying to fix the script. All of. a sudden Larry turned to me and said, 'If Hitler's alive, I hope he's out of town with a musical.' " Once the play reached Broadway, everything seemed to fall in place. The reviews were excellent. One said, "If you like to laugh, this is the best show in town." Another paper reported that "A Funny Thing Happened oi^ the Way to the Forum really is." Perhaps Brooks Atkinson of the New York Times said it best: "This is low comedy at its high- est." When Funny Thing closed on Broadway in 1964, the record showed 942 performances, profits well in excess of $500,000, and six Tony Awards. One of the Tonys went to Burt Shevelove, his first after three other nominr-'.tions. The last eight years for Shevelove have been busy; some would call them hectic. He wrote a series of TV shows for Dinah Shore in Hollywood, did the script for a movie in London, came back to Broadway with his Hallelujah Baby, and then hit the jackpot again with his 1971 revival of Vincent Youmans' 1925 hit. No, No, Nanette. With Ruby Keeler in the lead and with Hollywood's Busby Berkeley called out of retirement to supervise. No, No, Nanette became an instant success at the box office. Some were surprised that a 1925 musical could make the grade in the sophisticated Seventies. Clive Barnes of The New York Times felt that he had the answer. Said he: "Nostalgia may prove to be the overriding emotion of the Seventies, with remembrance of things past far more comfortable than the realization of things present. For everyone who wishes the world were 50 years younger — and particularly, I suspect, for those who re- member it when it was 50 years younger — the revival of No, No, Nanette pro- vides a delightful, carefree evening. "The resuscitation of operettas and musical comedies is a tricky operation, and the producers here have gone about their task with skill. The play is adapted by Burt Shevelove, who is also the di- rector, and although I do not know the original book by Otto Harbach and Frank Mandel, I would take a fair-sized bet that Mr. Shevelove's adaptation has been fairly extensive. This is far closer to a 1920's musical than anything New York has seen since the Twenties, but it is seen through a contemporary sensi- bihty." In the spring of 1972, with No, No, Nanette still breaking box office records. The New York Times ran a banner head- line — " 'Funny Thing' Happens Again." Partly to take advantage of a new gen- eration of theatergoers and partly to wipe from their mouths the sour taste of a London version of Funny Thing that bombed, Shevelove and Gelbart, with help from Stephen Sondheim, who did the music and lyrics for the show, up- dated Funny Thing and brought it back to Broadway with Phil Silvers in the role of Pseudolus, the role originally played by Zero Mostel. This time the play lasted six months before the illness of Silvers forced cancellation. During his visit to Brown this spring, Shevelove reflected on the past 25 years. There are things he might do differently the second time around, but he made one point clear — he wouldn't have been happy in any other profes- sion. "The key element in show busi- ness," he said, "is to cherish the 'ups' and drive the 'downs' from your mem- ory." The former Brownbrokers director is currently writing a book about Vic- toria Woodhall, who ran for president in 1872. He feels that she should be a "lively" subject today since she was one of the country's early advocates of free love. "She beat women's lib by 100 years," he says. Also on Shevelove's agenda is an- other visit to Brown to meet with the students and to check on the progress of the theater renovations at old Lyman Gym. His hosts are hoping his glasses will be off during most of the visit. J.B. 19 When death seems certain A discussion between Dr. Milton Hamolsky, professor of medical science, and The Rev. Charles Baldwin, chaplain of the University "Philosophically, at least, the practice of medicine used to he relatively simple. A disease was diagnosed. If a cure existed, it was prescribed. Most often the pa- tient accepted the doctor's decisions with few questions. But recent developments in bio-medical technology are changing that simple view of the practice of medi- cine. Moral judgments are complicating the decisions of both doctors and pa- tients." That is the way a mailing piece from the University introduced a series of discussions on "The New Medicine," one of the three-part Rhode Island Semi- nars sponsored by the University Rela- tions Office as part of its program of con- tinuing education for Brown alumni. One of the three seminars on medi- cine was titled "When Death Seems Cer- tain, What Is the Response?" and fea- tured Dr. Hamolsky, who is also physi- cian-in-chief of the Department of Med- icine at Rhode Island Hospital, and Chaplain Baldwin. The portion of their discussion which follows was excerpted from a tape recording of their two-hour dialogue. Dr. Hamolsky: We will attempt to talk about the problems we face in a definition of death. There was a time when this was not a problem. Everyone knew pretty much when a patient had died — when a patient stopped breathing and when the heart stopped beating. Be- cause of technological advances in medi- cine, we are now faced with the need to define a new conceptual basis of ethics and morals. Medicine's ability to keep an orga- nism biologically alive with artificial pacemakers, with artificial respirators, has at the moment outstretched our so- ciety's capacity to handle the problem. So we are faced today with very difficult problems that we weren't faced with 50 years ago. To give you some specific ex- amples — in 1910, eight percent of peo- ple died outside the home. According to the most recent survey, carried out about 1969, 81 percent of people now die in hospitals or nursing homes. We no longer have people dying at home. Secondly, every family knew in the early 1900's that someone might die the next day; the beautiful blond blue-eyed baby might be carried away by an infec- tion — diphtheria, whooping cough, mea- sles, meningitis — anything. Today, that's not acceptable. We don't tolerate that kind of death. We need an explanation or an excuse for it if it occurs. This has ' been replaced — obviously, as people j must die — by a greater preponderance I of the aged who are dying. That's the final failure, that's the victory of nature over whatever we are. And we don't handle that very well. For the last ten or 15 years, per- j haps for the first time, sociologists, psy- ' chologists, anthropologists, political sci- entists, economists, are beginning to consider the problem of dying in our so- ciety as a topic to which they can ad- dress themselves. This was never done \ before. There was the feeling that you don't talk to somebody who's dying to find out how he feels. But now it's being done. So 1 find, for example, a meeting I like tonight to be a very exciting thing — that people are willing to come to lis- i ten to and to talk about and to think | about — out loud — this problem which I normally we have avoided. And that's one of our problems. The American ethic is to be alive, vital, busy, occupied. You mustn't even have free time or leisure time. You've got to have something to do in leisure time, not nothing. And dying obviously is thel ultimate in leisure time, the final act. ) That's the concept, that's the sociology, j under which we have existed. Now withl technological advance has come the ca- pacity for medicine to sustain biological existence. So now we have to make the deci- sion of when to permit the patient to be labeled "dead" for legal purposes, and for purposes of transplantation of tis- sues from the dying organism to anothe living organism who might benefit. Fi- nally, we have a group of religious lead- ers, of doctors, philosophers, sociolo- gists, psychologists, trying to come to grips with the ethic of the dead patient — that's first, we're not talking about dying, yet — we're talking about the dea patient. When is a patient dead? They have attempted to redefine death. One of thei problems with law, if I may say so, is that law will not tell you ahead of time,i or a priori, a decision. You must do something, somebody must bring a coui case, and then it will be resolved. We cannot get a definition from the law as : to what is death. We must try in our best way to make some working decisio which we hope will be acceptable to oui 20 si,iety, and then behave within that fanework and hope it will be consid- e d legal if and when it is brought to a=st case. There is now a growing acceptance oihe definition of brain death. Because in keep the heart going and the ng;. going, we can't any longer depend U)n death of heart, lungs, circulation, V ich is what everybody accepted 50 yirs ago. So when is a patient dead? Te statement is now made that an indi- V ual is dead when he is completely u"esponsive to all stimuli — let's say p.nful stimuli — no response of the or- giism, neurologically no response, Cinpletely inactive in his or her envi- rument. We're now using the electro- erephalogram, one of medicine's tech- nogical advances, to determine this. Ectrodes are placed on the skull, and e:trical current coming from the brain bow is recorded. If the brain is func- tiial in today's biological sense, there v>l be pips and flips on this electro- e:ephalogram, tracing the current. And e'ryone agrees that that means the pa- t It is not dead. But if the line is flat, as V say, that can be used as an indication o'biological brain death — providing that its repeated 24 hours later and is still fl;. We do not accept any single meas- wment, because it has been demon- sated — only once or twice, but that's eough — that an electroencephalogram hi been flat, and subsequently the pa- tnt has recovered. But this has not yet crurred when it was flat for a period of 2. hours. And so we're groping for some sort cdefinition before we have the right to s/, "This patient is dead." If it is a ptential donor of a kidney to someone ee whose life may be saved, we have t? right — with the permission of the fnily, or the individual if he has so i heated before his catastrophe — to * n=plant the tissue from the dead or- m to the living. As a final protec- tn, medicine now insists that the cctor who would like to have a kidney Jailable for his dying patient has noth- l; to do with the decision that this tier patient is dead. We are attempting i all ways possible to define this at the Ijhest level we can. That's the problem of "dead." We '11 come back to a discussion of that ler. The other problem is one of "dy- 15," the act and process of dying, which is something different. This relates to the whole problem of how does one tell a patient? What does one tell a pa- tient? When does one tell a patient? How does one help the patient handle the problem of dying? How does one handle the family's ability to handle this problem? Once again, I ask you to con- sider it in the sociological context. All we see or hear about dying is murder, suicide, mass violence. We don't deal at all with the patient who has had a bad stroke and obviously now has an infection and obviously is dying. Or even less dramatic than that, what about the patient who has a malignancy — one for which we have done what we know how to do in medicine, but the evidence is that the malignancy is spreading be- yond our capacity to handle it — and this means that in some period of time this patient will die? Does the patient know? When does the patient know? How do we handle the patient's concern about death? Death to most of us means pain, mutilation of the body, terrible loneli- ness, separation from everything, family. And in our society in general, friend- ships and closenesses are very small, only a few people. We don't have a so- ciety in which everybody shares the dying of a member as in some tribes. It's your own close family and imme- diate friends. Then, when somebody dies, there is the terrible loss to the fam- ily. Maybe the biggest problem is the survivor, not the patient who has been lost. Another issue is that people say, "When my time comes, I wish to be per- mitted to die in dignity and not to be stuck full of tubes and respirators, pace- makers, and gadgets, with my life dragged out. Discomfort, a terrible bur- den on my family, an economic catas- trophe for all concerned. . . . Let me go peaceably." Who makes that deci- sion? Under what circumstances? How much participation does the individual himself or herself have — want to have — be able to handle — be permitted to han- dle in our society? The doctor may himself have diffi- culties handling death. Because doctors are trained throughout their whole lives to help people, to keep people alive or at least make them better, the dying pa- tient is an evidence of the ultimate failure. This failure comes to all of us, and we all know it intellectually, but it's not easy to handle — any more for a physician than for anyone else. And how do we relate to the family, to the religious advisor, to the social worker? How do we form a group of people who surround the individual who is dying with the appropriate environ- ment so that the individual's life can be made of great value before and during the act of dying, instead of it being, "This is the final act — and one of great suffering." Well, these are some of the problems. Another is confronting death. How do we get people to talk about the fact that they are dying? I believe most peo- ple know. I believe we play games. I believe the patient does not want to hear the words because that means a curtain between doctor and patient — between family and patient. So I know they know; they know I know they know; but we play games. Neither one of us yet has the capacity to handle openly the problems that are posed by this. Death and dying were the taboo subjects of the 20th century. You just didn't talk about these things. One never had meetings like this 30 years ago, to talk about the problem of dying. So we are advancing. It is an important thing to handle. There are those who say that to live well, one must face the problem of dying. To die well, one must face the problem of living well. That's part of what we're talking about. We are not just dealing with a definition of some- thing and the terrible problem the fam- ily or the doctor has. Chaplain Baldwin: The definition of death as brain death, as you put it, is a very convenient one for the profession because you have other interests going. You want to preserve certain other or- gans for transplants, and this is there- fore the most convenient definition of death. But are there other possibilities here? Is this really the best we've got, both in terms of the person and society's interest? Hamolsky. I have reported about the present state of the art or science. There are very capable thinkers who have de- fined a specific region of the brain, the hypothalamus, within which we think are focalized several of the vital functions of the body or control over them. Blood pressure, eating, drinking, rage reac- 21 tion, control of the hormones — these are all controlled here. So to be biologically living, one doesn't need the rest of the cortex of the brain, which is what we think with, plan with, hope with. So my answer to you is that there may be those who are utilizing the concept of brain death for medicine's convenience. But that's not the motivation for most of the good thinkers who have come to the same decision. This is the best defining we can do today, and we have to keep probing for something better. Baldwin: One of the articles we read for this seminar raised the matter that a legitimate concern is the preservation of organs for use in living beings, and the best place to preserve them may be in the body of the potential donor. Now that's going to change our whole picture. We declare the person dead but also say we need to keep the body going in order to keep these organs. I think that's go- ing to be a tremendous culture shock. These definitions are going to have tre- mendous impact, and it's going to re- quire real cultural change to accept some of them. Hamolsky. One of the problems here is that we permit an individual to indicate before death, or even before any termi- nal illness, that he or she is willing to donate the cornea of the eye so a blind person may see, the kidney so someone else may live. And we permit these peo- ple to do this — to sign a paper, to have it countersigned, all very legal. But at the moment that patient "dies" — whatever the definition — that's gone. That per- son's wishes no longer pertain at all ac- cording to law. That body then becomes the next of kin in a specific fashion — the spouse, the parent, the oldest child. So I may indicate my willingness to have my kidney transferred when I am considered dead; but the moment some- body says I am dead, that is worthless — unless my nearest of kin says, "He wanted, I accept it, and we'll go along with it." Our legal structure is equivocal about this, giving the individual the right to do it and taking it away from him the moment he is legally dead. Baldwin: It appears to me as a layman and sometime pastor that it is increas- ingly the case that doctors are capable of discerning a point in a given patient's life when he has moved from a fight for life into a process of dying. Before we start on the business of caring for the dying, I would like to know what goes into making that determination. How frequently is it really possible to make that kind of determination? Hamolsky: The physician is no longer able to say with precision, "You have six weeks left of life," so that the indi- vidual can go out and have a good time — as in television shows. Doctors used to do this. But now we do not have that scientific capacity with precision, mostly because there are a lot of other things we can do now to modify it. We prob- ably still have the ability to guess pretty well, if we would then let the patient alone. But we no longer do this. The more fundamental question to raise is what is the precision with which a physician can examine a patient and say this person has passed from something we call indefinite future to something we call beginning to die? This varies, but I think in most instances it is quite clear. We can know that a patient will die. In most instances, medicine is able to make that decision with sufficient accuracy so that it poses realistically the broader problem of what we then do about it and with whom. Baldwin: So then the point really comes when you must decide whether to tell the patient or not. I think whether to tell or not relates to a care system that we do not have for the most part. I would say from my perspective as a pastor that, when that point comes, the ethical obligation is to care for the dying patient, and only care for the patient. And what does caring mean then? I suppose relative comfort. But much more than that. It means surrounding the patient with support services, and the company of people one knows. It suggests to me a different kind of caring process for any given patient. With some patients it may be the minister and the doctor; for others it's the social worker who is the real control, or the lawyer, the brother or sister, the father or mother, or whoever. Some sort of caring process needs to be recognized so that the patient can take care of things — his will, or whatever. Some kind of process must develop where the patient himself or herself has a sense of, "I've completed things. I handled things in this part of my life at the same kind of level, or even better, than I did at the | earlier part of my life." 1 Hamolsky: You've defined different j problems. The first is, do you tell the < patient and how do you tell the patient I have to put in a strong defense of the medical profession. I believe that the physician has done this most of the tim because no one else would. 3aldi. I think so too. Hamolsky: I have attempted to get oth- ers to share it with me, and "No thank you! You're the doctor. You know. Please don't ask me to do that!" I find it one of the more difficult decisions to make. My young interns and residents are thrashing with it all the time. Some physicians always tell pa- tients — others don't. Part of it is that it may be their considered judgment that many people are not able to handle it, and therefore why traumatize further. ) r Baldwin: And let's admit, some can't. 1 Hamolsky: That's correct. I once told an individual — a rugged, outgoing, busy, successful, driving, competent, mature, i stable businessman who had a biopsy taken, that the biopsy came back ma- lignant. This individual, put very simp!' and perhaps a little dramatically, meltec away in front of my eyes. He just disin- tegrated, he just fell apart. And I've hat the opposite experience as well. So it's difficult to decide. I think it's an obligation of the physician to explore with the family thf problem when he is convinced the pa- tient is dying. But will it help the fam- ily? Who in the family can best help rP' tell the patient? Or do I do it myself? I think it is known by the patient pretty promptly, because the family can't hide it. When the family knows, they change in their behavior to the individual whether they wish to or not. The persoi knows. He's different now than he wasi last week. The other thing is that medical schools have not taught young medical i students how to handle the problem of dying patient. I don't believe there was. a single course on this topic in any nurs ing school up until about ten years agoj Now they are all attempting to put thifj into the curriculum. 1. 22 B'/iwin: You've commented that, at a fi^-ly simple level, medical students have d iculty in dealing with the cadaver — it dealt with jokingly. hfnolsky: Sure. This is our first ap- piach to the human body in medical si ool — a dead individual. And it is vy difficult for many. They've never sm it before. Consequently, every med- ic student has the skull as an ashtray o;his table. This is his way of learning tciandle this terrible problem, because v\ don't handle it openly. And the ca- d.'er is "Max" or what have you. There ai some jokes. But this is a facade. This ishe way we all handle problems that ai difficult and a little tough to take, ail nobody's helping us do it. We rise al)ve it by being a little jocular about it In the past, doctors have evaded the isje of death in hospitals, too. We don't f£c with the nurse about this dead pa- tiit and handling it. It's nurses who tee care of the problem. They take care he body, they shroud it, they shut a the doors and shut out the lights and s; ak it down the corridor. That's the v>y we handle a problem that we're not a e to deal with openly because our so- c.y isn't dealing with it openly. B.divin: That relates to the fact that w don't deal with the dying patient as a erson at all, but as a thing. hmohky: It is a problem to be solved. Il not Mrs. Jones, who has three kids, v^o's had a good life or hasn't had a g)d life, who really now senses that s ''s dying, and that suddenly an un- s isfactory life is coming to an end. Out c ne the bitterness and hostility, the "/hy me?" and "No, it can't be," and ti'n submission and depression. These a the logical responses when it's either "ou're not dying" or "You are dying" (jind there's no thought of the quality olife carrying through it. So it's a g-at sociological problem. /'Question: What about the mind — r'l, when the brain no longer registers c an electroencephalogram? {■rnolsky: Well, again that gets back to cr original decision regarding brain cath. It is more than just a philosophi- c or academic discussion. But there we ight have a nice easy answer regard- ing complete and absolute death. Baldwin: One of the reasons I press for a clear professional attendance to the process of dying is I don't think you're ever going to have an unchallengeable, neat answer — science isn't that way. That decision always is going to be am- biguous, and it's going to have to be made around the patient. I mean, death isn't just a definition. It's caring for the patient, the family. It's the feelings of the doctor. It's the institutional self- defense — all these kinds of things. We're going to have to agree more and more on a given case. Question: There's another question that's considered rather taboo, and that's the question of termination of treatment. If a person were beyond recovery, and had indicated that he did not want to be sustained by tubes and respirators and so on, does he have the right ethically to say, "When you see fit I would like the treatment to be terminated and to die with dignity?" Baldwin: I think there is general agree- ment among theologians and the medical profession that that is a legitimate deci- sion to make. Hamolsky: I agree that the ethical situ- ation is clear as indicated. But we have two cases in law again. In Florida, a woman sued for her right not to have, in her judgment, extraordinary procedure used on her . . . after it was done. And it was decided in her favor, and the hos- pital and the physician were found at fault. In our state of New York, a woman went to court to prevent the hos- pital from implanting a pacemaker in her husband who was aged, and com- pletely incompetent mentally, etc. As black and white a picture as I've heard about. And the court overruled her, giv- ing the hospital the right to do it. And they did. The ethic is clear. I think all of us would indicate that no one is required to, or should or must, use all available methods to sustain vital life after a point. I think the question is, what is extraordinary? Question: Who makes that decision? Is it entirely up to the doctor? Hamolsky: Different places do it differ- ently. There was a sign in an English hospital just a short while ago that was posted on the walls. It said, "The fol- lowing patients NTBR" (not to be re- suscitated) — and it applied to anyone over 65. There was a tremendous hue and cry in the English press — a tremen- dous outcry. And the outcry was very simple: "We don't care if you do it, but for God's sake don't tell us." That was the entire criticism. We sort of agree that for somebody whose heart stops after age 65, you shouldn't put in all of this tremendous time, effort, money, ex- pense, when you might be putting the same $5,000 into three hungry families in the ghetto. Use any comparison you wish. But, "Don't tell us you're doing that. We don't want to participate in this" is one of the responses. Baldwin: We agreed it's tough to de- cide where to draw the line on treating a patient. But some physicians make bad judgments sometimes. Is it not my right and obligation to insist on a conference with the doctor and with those persons involved in the case? Hamolsky : That has happened to me. I've been asked to participate in pre- cisely this kind of discussion. And it obviously was a very sensitive family, very concerned. One of the three sisters did not want what I call extraordinary methods to be discontinued. The other two did. That makes it a very difficult problem for those three to handle. What- ever decision you make, how do those three handle it? You see, there is a difficulty. Question: To ask about the physicians of six years from today, how much do the medical schools, and particularly Brown University's medical school, do in regard to dying and death? Hamolsky : There are specific courses in- corporating the problems of dying in virtually every medical school now. At Brown we are putting together a group of faculty that care about such things — from philosophy, sociology, psychology. When Brown decided to go on to the M.D. program, one of its decisions was to extend the six-year program to seven and to incorporate the last two years as something called "the clinical experi- ence" — primarily patient-related. Well, there will be electives throughout those sixth and seventh years. And the stu- dents have begun to talk about their electives. They want to know about the dying patient. They want to know about who makes the decisions. They want to know how to involve the family. They want to know how to educate the patient. 23 staying on There have always been Brown graduates who stayed on to earn a living at the University. Some of them pursued Hfelong careers here; many more did stints in the admission office as they were waiting to get drafted or married or accepted to graduate school. While the alum- nus-employee is a familiar phenomenon, there is impres- sionistic evidence that in recent years increasing numbers of seniors are marching down College Hill in the gradua- tion procession only to climb right back up again and start drawing a Brown paycheck. Since no one has ever kept statistics on the subject, perhaps it only seems that there are more recent graduates employed at Brown. But given the economic downturn of the last several years, it would be a likely thing to happen. In more prosperous times, when a young alumnus felt in need of a year or so of breathing space after college, the traditional choices have been graduate school or travel. For financial reasons, these are no longer such accessible solutions. Graduate fellowship money has dried up like a frog pond during an August drought, and successive de- valuations have shrunk the dollar so that the young Amer- ican traveler is no longer king of the road abroad. A year of working in University Hall may have to substitute for the time-honored Wanderjahre as a period of stock-taking. It may not be too exciting, but it beats going back home to work in the family shoe factory. During the Depression, one of the schemes that was advanced to alleviate unemployment was that the govern- Photographs by HUGH SMYSER ment should act as an "employer of last resort," providir work for those who could find no other jobs. Brown offei no similar guarantee along with its B.A., but it seems tha there is always a need for one more library assistant or security guard or secretary. Although alumni get no spe- cial consideration when they apply for jobs, most of the people doing the hiring show a reassuring confidence in the home-grown product. Once on the payroll, recent graduates bring to their jobs a knowledge of Brown that can add to their value as employees. They also, in many cases, bring along an ir- reverent and questioning attitude toward the exalted Ivy mystique. In the best tradition of the liberally educated, young alumni-employees have not hesitated to challenge the status quo. In fact, during the past year several re- cently graduated employees have shown themselves so unintimidated by the "specialness" of the University as t try to organize unions among their co-workers. The Brozon Alumni Morithly talked to five recent graduates who work for Brown to find out why they're here, what they think about their jobs, and how their fee ings about the University may have changed. Although some of those interviewed thought of their jobs here as the logical first step in an already chosen career direction most were, in some sense, still trying to get their bearing All had found the transition from student to hired hand 1 somewhat awkward, and several are already making fu- ture plans that don't include Providence. A.i 24 Qry Babcock One of the gifts that 3iy Babcock received when ie raduated from Brown n ?72 was a scrapbook ;o aining mementos of ii:3art-time job as adminis- Tfve assistant to Dean of ^(demic Affairs and Associ- iti^rovost Jacquelyn Matt- •el. Dean Mattfeld filled the ic pbook with memoranda, is., and schedules that Gary la written during his first ■n.Dr administrative assign- n. t — the coordination of h visit to Brown by the mu- '.iciepartment visiting com- niee. Gary's thoroughness ui attention to detail is evi- le: in one of the memos lelirected to Dean Matt- e 's housekeeper advising u that the cocktail canapes lEirdered for the reception VI2 to be heated in a 350- ieee oven for 20 min- it exactly. Another note s reminder that the base- n it refrigerator should «,ired out before being )r:sed into service as an icitional ice maker. Gary is now employed ii-time as an administra- V assistant to Dean Matt- ie . His job covers every- h g from doing research )i educational issues to 'tcing care of the mail/' a o; daily process which in- ■1 les entering each item in -'. giving it a serial num- 'f '.0 mdicate the file loca- ii and underlining the im- Htant parts in order to ill Dean Mattfeld's read- n time. "It may sound it nge, but I really like or- ;• izing, housekeeping type hgs," says Gary, who first ':ved his talent in that li as an undergraduate 5 making all the arrange- nts for the Brown cho- rus' successful tour of Eng- land. Although Gary didn't really plan to take an ad- ministrative post at Brown, he didn't just fall into it either. About the middle of his senior year, he recalls, he started "angling for a way to stick around Brown for two or three years." Why? "I hke it here. It's the only place I know really well and, besides, I had an inor- dinate fear of ending up as an insurance salesman somewhere in the Middle West." Gary was considered for a position with the Na- tional Endowment for the Arts in Washington, but he decided that he didn't feel adventurous enough to move somewhere strange. At the time that Gary was job hunting at Brown, there was talk of creating a new position of "baby dean" which would go to a recent alumnus who would act as a student advocate. Gary checked on that job and also wrote a proposal to develop a computer-driven, graphic- display tutorial system. When it looked as though neither of those projects would come to anything, Gary accepted the offer to work part-time — and later full-time — for Dean Matt- feld. (Just last month, Gary learned that the Exxon Foun- dation has awarded Brown a $63,000 grant to develop the proposal he wrote.) Eventually, Gary wants to become a high school or college consultant who can "teach people how to teach." Right now, he says, he is trying to decide where and when to go to graduate school. He expects to work at Brown through next year. even though he is less fond of the University than he was during his undergradu- ate days. As he wrote in an article for a campus maga- zine called Issues, having "just crossed the fence from being a student to being an administrator I often won- der if the Brown I see from the second floor of Univer- sity Hall is the same Brown I knew and loved in a very real way while I was a stu- dent." Gary asks himself whether his feelings reflect "only an increasing distance from my life as a student . . . or is it a function of insights to which I previ- ously had not been privy, or (possibly) is it because Brown is simply a less lik- able place?" Some of each, he concludes, but it is clear that he misses the collective energy of curricular upheaval that charged Brown several years ago. And in the ab- sence of that earlier student and faculty enthusiasm, he wonders "why those with the real authority to do so do not themselves strive to provide the leadership, the conviction, even a little bit of the passion needed to awaken Brown once again to its potential as a great teaching university." 25 Phyllis Henrici It's hard for her to be- lieve now, but Phylhs Hen- rici '72 didn't give a serious thought to what she would do when she graduated, till the middle of her senior year. "Up until then," she says, "whenever people asked me what my plans were, I thought it was OK to say, 'I don't know.' I thought I'd wait and see what my friends were going to do. When they began to send out resumes and find things to do, I started to get worried." If Phyllis didn't have much of an idea of what she wanted to do, neither did she have any strong feelings about where she wanted to be. She had "vague thoughts about going to California" with some friends, but since she had no money that didn't seem practical. So, last spring, when she heard about a job as "library as- sistant, two" in the John Hay Library at Brown, she decided to fill out an appli- cation "just in case." Sev- eral months later she ac- cepted the job, which in- volves sharing the curatorial duties of the 160,000-volume Harris Collection of Poetry and Plays. Phyllis looks through catalogues and jour- nals to locate books which should be ordered for the collection, corresponds with scholars, and creates library exhibits based on material in the collection. According to Phyllis, many people who see her on campus assume that she is still a student. But for those who ask, she has developed an elaborate justification to explain why she is "still around." "I rationalize it as a temporary situation for at least a year or maybe longer," she says. Although Phyllis finds her work interesting, she does not want to be a career librarian. "My original idea was that if I hung around for a year I would be inspired about what I really wanted to do. Unfortunately, that hasn't happened yet. I would de- scribe my life in Providence as bearable to pleasant; it's just not bad enough to spur me on to do something else." Phyllis has become more of a political activist at Brown since graduation. She is one of the founders of the Feminist Studies Com- mittee, a group of women students, faculty, and staff who have been working to establish an academic con- centration on the subject of women. The initial course, which will be interdisciplin- ary, has been approved for the fall semester. A few weeks ago Phyllis joined assistant professors Louise Lamphere and Anne Fausto- Sterling in presenting an alumni seminar on working women. As a working woman herself, Phyllis finds it not much of an improvement over being a student. One of the first differences she noticed is that "it's much easier to rent an apartment. People assume that workers are more responsible than students." Phyllis's opinions about Brown have under- gone considerable revision since she became one of the employees. "When I was a student," she says, "I felt that Brown had my best interests at heart. Now I see it more as a business organ- ization." Phyllis thinks that the University is a less-than- model employer. "It is in- timated," she says, "that there are all these fat fringe benefits, but if you look at what they really are, they turn out to be non-existent, unless you consider it a fringe benefit to rub elbows with the intellectual elite." 26 h Russo jOne look at Bill Russo you that here is some- ho is not about to have entity crisis. His wrap- end grin is so broad that snost touches his long, ? kept sideburns. He has is\', outgoing way with cJe. It's hard to tell from shiinner whether he's 1 ii; to an old friend or r one he never saw before K life. He has known : -rl\- what he wanted . to get it since be- ;raduated from an in 1969. He viewed jib as assistant freshman for the football team first step along the ht line that is the short- stance to where he's d. Bill Russo's ambi- s to be head coach of a :e football team some- aybe an Ivy League all team, maybe even — not admit it — the Brown Wall team. Meanwhile, young ap- e'ice coaching hopefuls ;\pected to prove them- As by working under ntions that have some- I in common with non- iiized farm labor. Ac- rng to Russo, there are cvays to get into college iiing. If you don't want tb was defined as part- n Russo worked full-time and longer. ("I figured I ought to work as many hours as I could to get experience.") For the entire three-month season. Bill was paid under $600. Every year since. Bill's responsibilities have in- creased. He has coordinated the recruiting effort in the football office ("That's like a second season.") and he su- pervised the creation of a computer program to aid in scouting football players. Bill passed one career hurdle this fall when the man who hired him, head coach Len Jardine, left Brown. Bill was the only member of the pre- vious coaching staff who was retained by the new coach, John Anderson. In January, Bill was named varsity of- fensive line coach. Bill had few problems with making the transition from Brown student to em- ployee. He feels that his status as a recent alumnus makes it easier to talk to po- tential players. "I can tell them about all of Brown and not just the football team," he says. Bill played three varsity seasons as an offen- sive guard on the Brown team and when he first joined the coaching staff, he didn't know quite how to re- late to his former teammates. He soon found a comfortable role. "I had to be a friend and intermediary to the kids on the varsity and an au- thority figure to the fresh- men," he says. Bill Russo is a self-con- fessed sports nut. Although he was a Dean's List student as a philosophy concentrator, "If there had been a major in intramural sports, I would have taken it." Last year he discovered that coaching football, lifting weights, and playing pick-up basketball were not enough to satisfy him. He felt a lack of physi- cal activity that was really competitive so he enrolled in a karate school and earned a purple belt within a year. Bill is ambitious in a field where ambition does not go unappreciated. Still, he is under no illusions that he has picked an easy goal. Right now he's learning, and how to teach boys to play football is only part of it. He has begun to formulate in his mind a set of rules for smart coaches; good PR is important, but if you have bad PR and a winning team you've probably got yourself a job for a while. A coach with a losing team on his hands is probably in trouble no matter how good his PR is. And, no matter what happens, always keep five copies of your resume on hand, just in case. 27 James Lyons James Lyons '71 was recently promoted to assist- ant director for operations in the Security Services at Brown. He does not feel com- pelled to leave Providence and see the world. "I've al- ready done that — twice," he says. Although Jim entered Brown in 1962, he didn't graduate until nine years and several bouts of wan- derlust later. He dropped out for the first time at the end of his freshman year. "At that time," he says, "many of us felt a conflict between learning and doing. I wanted to get Experience with a capital E." After a year in Boston tracing lost packages for United Parcel Service, Jim returned to Brown for another one and a half years. Then his restless- ness drove him to enlist in the Army with a guarantee for Europe. After 18 months in Augsberg, Germany, he was sent to Vietnam for 18 months. In the fall of 1969, he returned from Vietnam and two weeks later was a junior at Brown. It was a difficult adjustment to make, he re- calls. As a result of his ex- periences he decided to ma- jor in Asian civilization. "I wanted to learn more about oriental culture because I'm fascinated by it," he says, "although that is a weak word to describe a very com- plicated emotion." Jim also was one of the founders of the Brown chapter of Viet- nam Veterans Against the War. To supplement his in- come from the GI Bill, Jim took a part-time job as a safety patrol officer with the security force. "My job was to walk around outside build- ings wearing a uniform so that I would be a visible de- terrent to crime." The fol- lowing year, Jim worked full-time for Security Serv- ices while he completed his senior year at Brown. He stayed with security after graduation and was pro- moted to field supervisor and then to assistant direc- tor of operations. Jim is in charge of uni- formed guards and of the daily operations of the de- partment. He deals with problems of "discipline, mo- rale, and special arrange- ments." Since Jim is inter- ested in "administrative type positions," he considers his job to be career oriented, but he has found that many of his classmates regard what he does as a low status occupation. "As far as status is concerned," he says, "it would be better to do cus- todial work because that seems more like a tempo- rary position." The major security problems change with the generations of college stu- dents, and Jim has seen things come full circle since he was first at Brown. "In the early sixties," he says, "getting drunk was the thing to do." He came back to campus in 1969 to find that drinking was out and drugs, especially marijuana, were in. "Students were turned inward more," he says. "Par- ties consisted of people to- gether in a quiet way to smoke grass and talk. Now I think there has been a changeover to a heavy drink- ing scene again." According to Jim, a student who has been drinking heavily tends to pose more of a security problem than one who has been smoking marijuana. Last summer the secu- rity guards organized into a union which was recognized by the National Labor Rela- tions Board. (One of the organizers and first president of the union was John Lu- cas '72, who has since left the University.) By the time the union was formed, Jim Lyons was in a management position and therefore in- eligible to join, but he counts himself as a supporter of the union. "My overall phi- losophy is to make the force more professional," he says. "and to get rid of the 'se curity guard as friendly i duffer' image. So I was ii favor of the union becau I felt that the impetus fo change in the departmen had to come from some- where." 28 >(Lsie Noren hen Dotsie Noren id that she would be ;raphed in the Brown y laboratory where she search assistant, she iately began to con- elp a dramatic mise en • The machine room of • p would provide the )Spromising setting, she :i!d. The overhead lights jl be turned off and the ic nes turned on. The .y)otsie described it, the Dimeter, the program- In calculator, the ana- '•"'plotter, and the ma- that converts data ne form to the other, blink on and off like ;y pinball machines, would stand in front t machinery and pour nitrogen from a test unto an empty flask. =■)! Smoky wisps of va- oth up and drift across le ink of machines. Shades ar Trek!" (Due to tech- K considerations, the graph on this page is t cactly as Dotsie envi- it.) 3ne of the reasons that 5 comfortable enough tl.he lab hardware to cast background scenery for cnce fiction special effect ilt she helped build parts iierself. The do-it-your- f quipment, Dotsie ex- lii, is part of the effort to Ih shrinking research and Neil Weinstock '67 brought 17 workers together at the home of Pe 30 ai.ie '5°. Ten days later we had re- )rt from 12 of these workers on 100 ill prospects, including grades, class n board scores, and recommendations 0) the guidance directors and coaches. lirelatively small group turned Bos- nKto a bread-and-butter area for us itfet the table for subsequent visits by eiders of Coach Anderson's new it ■ -or some time, athletic recruiting in e 'y League has been highly competi- zeAnd Seiple recognizes that the rest t ; league won't be standing by wait- gi)r Brown to catch up. 5till, there are signs that Brown is cning more competitive in the battle r le student-athlete. As we were go- g 1 press, for example, it became ion that Brown has hopes of attract- g top football prospect from — of all a(3 — Muleshoe, Texas. it's in crew and lacrosse? n June of 1970 Brown's freshman »\ enjoyed a 7-0 season and then o';ht the college its first national a pionship in 74 years by winning e itercollegiate Rowing Association ; ta at Syracuse. Brown's previous t .lal title had come in 1896 when e aseball team defeated Chicago in :\ -out-of-three series. -ive oarsmen and the coxswain from a loat are still on the scene, hoping nke their senior season a duplicate t; freshman year. The group in- ics Mark Haffenreffer, Marc Berg- h 'ider, George Taylor, Steve Dull, •tiFalk, and coxswain Joe Delle Fauve. These six men were prominent last rig when Brown won the Ivy League le vith a second place finish in the srn Sprints and then came in second t? IRA's, Brown's best finish ever. 'We think that we have a good ' " to take it all this year," Coach halson said at the start of the an. "This season, at least, the regu- rl scheduled races will be merely a eiration for the big one on Lake nidaga on June 2." In the pre-season forecasts. Coach J Stevenson's lacrosse team was ti number one in New England and a ?iven a good shot at the Ivy League itipionship. Stevenson would be the 5 me to disagree with this forecast. but as the campaign got underway he did wish he had a better reading on the condition of Capt. Steph Russo's knee. An MVP at Massapequa High on Long Island, Russo arrived at Brown like gang busters in 1970. Playing attack, he paced the Cubs to an 8-1 season by scoring 60 points on 15 goals and 45 assists. The signs on Russo were all posi- tive as a sophomore. He racked up 18 goals and 29 assists for 47 points and made second team All-Ivy and honor- able mention All-New England. Nothing happened last season to change any of the predictions on Russo. He seemed to be a prime Ail-American candidate. He was 16-17-33 through the first nine games — and then it happened. He caught his foot in a rut on the prac- tice field, twisted a knee, missed the last four games (two of which Brown lost), and had an operation during the summer. Despite his abbreviated participa- tion, Russ was first team All-Ivy and first team All-New England. He also moved into ninth place on Brown's all- time scoring list with 80 varsity points. "There's no question that if Russo can come back to his earlier form we'll be a good team this season," Coach Stevenson said as the Bears prepared to open the campaign. "The kid can score but he's equally strong at hitting the open man, especially the midfielder cut- ting toward the cage. He can help a club in many ways." The Bruins had three objectives as the season got under way — an Ivy title, the New England crown, and one of the eight berths in the NCAA playoffs for the national championship. The name is Fritz Pollard (EI) For the first time since the winter of 1934, a Fritz Pollard is representing Brown on the athletic field. And like his dad and grandfather, young Fritz (Fred- erick D. Pollard, III, to be exact) has the potential for athletic greatness. The senior Pollard was a halfback on Brown's Rose Bowl team of 1915 and a year later became the first black se- lected by Walter Camp to his AU-Ameri- can first team backfield. Fritz, Jr., played freshman football in 1933, tied the world record for the 45-yard high hurdles with a 5.8 in the winter of 1934, and finished third in the high hurdles at the 1936 Olympics in Berlin. His last three col- lege years were at North Dakota Uni- versity. Young Pollard, who entered Brown last fall, played football at Montgomery Blair High School in Silver Spring, Md., as a 6-6, 240-pound linebacker. He also earned All-State honors on the basket- ball team. But track was really his thing. He set a school record in the discus with a toss of 163-11 and was named to the high school Ail-American team. A pre-med student. Pollard passed up football and basketball this year while getting adjusted academically. Track was something else. He just couldn't stay away. Brown's new assist- ant coach, Ed McLaughlin, is among those who are glad that the big, easy- going freshman decided to throw the discus for the Bruins. "Fritz has worlds of talent," Mc- Laughlin says, "and he hasn't even be- gun to approach his true potential. Be- fore he leaves Brown, Fritz could become the finest discus thrower the school has ever had." The unassuming Pollard is reahstic about his potential. He knows that the raw talent is there. He also knows that there is a price that will have to be paid if he is to realize that potential. "My immediate objective is to make a contribution to the Brown track team," Pollard says. "But, frankly, I want to do more than that. My eyes are set on the 1976 Olympics, and for the next three years I'll be working with Coach McLaughlin just as long and as hard as is necessary to reach that goal." Early this spring. Pollard and many of the other trackmen were singing the praises of McLaughlin, who replaced Ed Flannagan this winter as assistant to Coach Ivan Fuqua. McLaughlin's area of responsibility will be the field events. A native of Providence, McLaughlin was a two-time All-State selection in the pole vault at Classical High and then starred at Holy Cross. He's been a biol- ogy teacher at Hope High for the past nine years, during which time he's guided the Providence School to five indoor and outdoor state track cham- pionships. He's also coached cross coun- try at Johnson & Wales Junior College for three years with equal success: three Region III titles and a sixth in 31 the nationals in both 1970 and 1971. "McLaughhn has been one of the finest track coaches in Rhode Island for nearly a decade," Coach Fuqua says. "We're particularly fortunate to have him come with Brown at this time when we have such a strong group of men in the field events." In addition to Pollard, the weight men with great potential include a pair of freshmen who were starters on last fall's undefeated football team. Phil Bartlett was a high school All-American in the hammer at Providence's Classical High and earned All-Ivy honors this winter for his work in the Heptagonals with the 35-pound hammer. Kevin Mundt was a Missouri state champion in the shot put. Almon debuts in baseball The addition of one player has given the Brown baseball team a new and exciting look. Billy Almon, the boy who passed up a $50,000 bonus from the San Diego Padres to enroll at Brown, has helped change the Bruins from a good team (16-13 in 1972) into an East- ern Intercollegiate Baseball League con- tender. Coach "Woody" Woodworth sums up the situation. "Having Almon on the team gives us so much more flexibility. He's tight- ened up our infield, added speed to the club, and introduced a very talented bat into the lineup. Billy has the best range and arm of any collegiate shortstop I've ever seen. He is one of those rare ones who can make the great play consist- ently." A star athlete from Warwick, R.I., Almon led the state in scoring as a sen- ior basketball player and then attracted the attention of every major league scout when he put on his baseball uniform. He reportedly was the number one draft choice of two clubs. Even after Almon announced his intention to attend Brown, the San Diego Padres drafted him sev- enth. The Padres automatically lost all rights to Almon when he entered Brown. Now the Bruin shortstop won't be eli- gible to be drafted until his class gradu- ates or until his 21st birthday — or un- less he drops out of college. "Right now, getting my degree means everything to me," Almon says. "There will be plenty of time later for professional baseball, providing I can make the grade. I'm happy at Brown and have no regrets at my decision." Coach Woodworth has another po- tential major leaguer on his roster, Capt. Bob Lukas. The fireballing righthander posted a 1.54 earned run average last spring in 70 innings and made All-Ivy. He also played for the fine Falmouth team in the Cape Cod League. If Lukas has another good spring, Coach Wood- worth predicts that his club will have as good a shot as any to end up with the EIBL crown. James Miller — the bright side of the wrestling story A third generation Brown man, one who seriously considered giving up a promising wrestling career a few years ago, turned out to be one of the feature stories of the winter sports season. There were other highlights, including the fast finish of the basketball team and the selection of a Brown junior to the All-American hockey team. James C. Miller, who admits to a six-year love affair with wrestling, capped a 15-2-1 senior season by becom- ing the first Brown man in seven years to win a New England championship. Then, after a disappointing showing in the Nationals, Miller headed home to Canada and captured the Canadian Na- tional Championship at 163 pounds. Miller is the son of Arthur E. Mil- ler, Jr. '50 of North Vancouver, B.C., and the grandson of Arthur Miller '22, president of Miller & Peck, Inc., Narra- gansett, R.I. Miller started wrestling when he was in the 11th grade at Del- brook High in Vancouver, going un- defeated as a 148-pound junior and 157-pound senior. After his junior year. Miller came in second in the Canadian Junior cham- pionships. And in 1968 he tried out for the Canadian Olympic team, mainly, he says, to acquire some experience. The Olympic trials were held in Toronto that year, a fact that contributed to Mil- ler's decision to come to Brown. "My grandfather invited me to spend some time with him in Narra- gansett while I was in the East," Miller says. "Among the people I talked to were representatives of the admission office. I guess I was being interviewed, al- though I didn't realize it at the time. It was all so low-key. I enjoyed the campus, the people, and the atmosphere. and for the first time seriously cons ered coming to Brown." As a senior. Miller won the Ca nadian Junior Championship and w sent to Michigan State for a month train for the World Junior Champio ships in Boulder, Colo. He placed ku behind the Soviet Union, Japan, anc e| United States. Then it was off to an other camp in Vancouver for some i training before departing for Japan six-week trip with the British Colut All-Stars. Because of this background, gn things were expected of Miller whe« arrived at Brown in the fall of 19691 And he did fairly well, going 8-2 as. freshman and 8-2-1 as a sophomore But these were frustrating years fort young Canadian. He soon found ou> wrestling wasn't the "big thing" foi' many of his teammates that it was li him. "I'm afraid I made myself rathi obnoxious during those years," says soft-spoken but intense Miller. "I couldn't understand why some kidsi good wrestlers, quit the team. It act broke my heart. I'd go around fromi to room badgering this guy and that to stay out. It was a losing fight." Brown's freshman wrestling tei in 1969-70 included six state champi This year only two of them (Jeff Mi; is the other) were still on the team. James Miller speaks to this point. "Wrestling is a very demandinji sport physically. It's a lonely sport. : if the kids on the team feel that thei is no real interest in what they are d ing then, frankly, it's tough for then rationalize staying out for the team.r "It was easier for me to stay ov: because wrestling has been more thi just a college sport to me. Among oi things, it has led to two trips to Jap; But I'll have to admit that there weii moments when I felt like chucking i; "The Penn match was one we 1 to win when I was a sophomore. An everyone was counting on me to pic some key points at 158. I let them d I lost, and after the match some of t fellows on the team wouldn't even speak to me. This really shook me u I walked the campus until after mid- night, all by myself. I thought of qu, ting. But I couldn't do it." Miller is excited about the job 1| Brumbaugh did this year in bringing] team together. He also feels that if Brown wrestling is to make a cometi 32 s ijsential for Brumbaugh to become ulhme coach. He's now a teacher Ccentry High School and is consid- d art-time by Brown. Coach Brumbaugh really knows ; sfjrt," Miller says. "And in his ^ars here he's done many of the leKings that can build a program, t ••'u need a full-time coach to stay tc' of the recruiting and to see that • o-id kids we do manage to recruit t for the team. In my opinion, in le- or wrestling to survive at Brown, s -;p is absolutely necessary." liller spent his junior year at Si- inVaser University in British Colum- , ;ainly to train for the Canadian yr;5ic trials. He wrestled "freestyle" i 'me away with a 25-0-1 record. His t iason at Brown was his best. He t £l5-2-l record on the books, won '. (last Guard Tournament at 167, i ade All-Ivy, setting the stage for f^t-season heroics. liller, who spends an estimated -3 hours a week wrestling and with ! \'ights, was sensational in the Ca- di i championships in March, taking irtraight pins and two decisions to Ti spot in the finals against Alferd ui the man who had held the title •fe last nine years in both Graeco d ;eestyle. Miller decisioned Wurr, t, lining revenge for his loss to uiin the Olympic trials last summer. -Ithough he is an anthropology ijc. Miller is also a pre-med student d bpes to attend medical school next iSMi//er: "Wrestling is a lonely sport.' fall. He has a special interest in psychi- atry, partly because his mother is head of a psychiatric ward in a Canadian hospital. "These two fields really blend to- gether well," Miller says, "because there is a close tie between mental health and recreation. Health to me implies both mental and physical health — the old Greek adage of having a sane mind in a sound body. People have more and more free time today, but it's important for their own well-being that they know how to use this free time." Miller hopes to continue wrestling while at graduate school because he has a definite objective — to make the 1976 Olympic team. "Wrestling is a sport where experi- ence counts. Most good ones don't reach their prime until their early 30's. My best years on the mat are still ahead of me." An All American in hockey Another Canadian, Keith Smith, also made his mark this winter for the Bruins. The 6-1, 185-pounder from Bur- lington, Ont., established himself as one of the premiere hockey defensemen in the East and was selected to the All- American team despite the fact that the Bruins were a disappointing 11-12 on the year and failed to qualify for the ECAC playoffs. Smith will turn 20 in May and he expects to be selected in the National Hockey League's amateur draft the fol- lowing month. But right now he is plan- ning to be back on College Hill in the fall. "I have an open mind about pro hockey," he says. "I want to get my de- gree first but I'll listen to the offers. I think we have enough talent to turn things around next winter — and I want to be a part of the renaissance." 10-4 in the Ivy League — a record. By winning eight of its last ten games, the basketball team ended 14-12, the best record since 1944-45 when Coach Rip Engle's team won the New England title with a 14-5 mark. Down the stretch. Coach Gerry Alaimo started five sophomores, a fact that points to better things for 1973-74. Playing at the Civic Center before a packed house of 11,434 in the final game of the season, the youthful Bears shocked fourth-ranked Providence by racing off to a 19-2 lead. The bulge was 43-37 at halftime before the talented Friars finally overtook the Bruins, 93-80. Phil Brown, called by Alaimo "the finest 6-5 center in America," led the team in five categories, including scor- ing with 392 points for a 15.1 average. He was named to the second All-Ivy team. The Bruins' Ivy League record was 10-4, the best ever. The Bears defeated every Ivy League opponent at least once en route to third place in the standings, the highest Brown has ever finished in the league. Spring Scoreboard (through April 9) Baseball Varsity (5-4-1) Morehead St. 4, Brown 3 Brown 6, Providence 3 Brown 3, Murray St. 2 Brown 7 , Murray St. 7 Murray St. 3, Brown Murray St. 8, Brown 2 Brown 5, Memphis St. 3 Memphis St. 3, Brown Brown 4, Purdue 1 Brozon 10, Murray St. 7 Lacrosse Varsity (2-0) Brown 20, Springfield 3 Brown 11, C. W. Post 3 Track Varsity (0-1) North Carolina St. 85Vz, Brown 67V2 33 The Classes i^/l. '^n^ter A. Briggs, an Attleboro at- ^_^|5 torney, has thought about retiring a number of times over the past few years. But he never got around to it. Now, the former judge, school committee member, city counselor, and old-time Republican has closed his office and thrown away the key. "You've heard of Tennyson's poem about the brook," he said recently. "It can't go on forever. Well, neither can I." Judge Briggs has been practicing law in Attle- boro for 60 years. He credits his long and active life to selecting the right kind of food and to giving up smoking some years ago. One of his favorite memories is work- ing for Teddy Roosevelt and the Bull Moose Party in 1912, just three years after he graduated from Harvard Law School. A reporter recently asked Judge Briggs to name his hobbies. "When you are 90, son," he replied slowly, "you can't have a hobby." Gustavus A. Russ has turned 94 years old and has moved to Nevis, Minn., to live with his niece. 10 Keith Mercer is retired and living in Quebec, Canada. ** ^ Alan Slade reports that he has jLJmt finally found a use for the 60th anniversary souvenir cane. He's now using is as a booster when he climbs hills Jiearby his Wilton, Conn., home. •# /J The 60th reunion of 1913 alumni JL^7 will start with a social hour at the home of George Metcalf on Friday after- noon, after which the group will attend the Alumni Dinner. The highlight on Saturday will be the class luncheon at Agawam Hunt Country Club. Then on Sunday there will be a luncheon at the Barrington home of Mrs. Harold Grout, the widow of our for- mer class president. A special luncheon is being planned for 1913 alumnae on Thursday, May 31, at 12:30 at Alumnae House, at which time classmates will be the guests of the Alum- nae Association. The Alumnae/Alumni din- ner on Friday evening at Sharpe Refectory and the President's Reception on Sunday afternoon will be the highlights of the weekend. We hope that as many of you as possible will be able to join us. "1 C There will be no organized sched- XO "'e this year for our 58th reunion. However, C. Cordon MacLeod will be host to the class for a get-together at the Hope Club between 5 and 7 p.m., prior to the Friday night Alumni/ae Dinner. »* p^ Recalling some of the discussions JLy during our 55th reunion last June, Ray Walsh mentioned the fact that six members of the class — namely Ken Sprague, Irving Fraser, Wally Wade, Stan Ward, Ray. Ward, and Jiimmy Murphy — were members of the 1915 Brown team, captained by Buzz Andrews '16, which played in the first Rose Bowl game. Another recollection was that eight members of 1917 served in Battery A in the Rhode Island Artillery on the Mexican Border in 1916. They were Fred Bontecou, Zale Dillon, Sol Kelley, John Maginn, Jack Rhoads, Bob Staples, Stan Ward, and Ray Walsh. Hugh MacNair and his wife, Louise, have enjoyed the winter in Tucson, Ariz., far from the deep snow of their home town of Dorset, Vt. •* rt With the wives included at all J.^J events, the reunion committee of Dwight CoUey, Walter Adler, Zene Bliss, John Chafee, and J. Iri'ing McDowell ex- pects a good group back for the 55th Re- union. The four-day program isn't as ex- tensive as it was several reunions back, but it's a good one. Friday evening the gang will gather for dinner at Agawam Hunt Country Club in Rumford, with some of them then heading for the Campus Dance. On Saturday, it will be the University Forums in the morning and the Pops Con- cert in the evening. Sunday is free during the day for tours of the rapidly changing campus, followed by dinner at the home of Mrs. Henry S. Chafee in Barrington. Reunion plans for our alumnae class are complete. Special events include a luncheon on Thursday, May 31, at 12:30 at Alumnae House; a class luncheon at Carr's on Saturday, June 2, at 12:30; and a luncheon on Sunday, June 3, at the home of Sally Beardsley. The University is planning a number of events of interest to all alumnae and an enjoyable time is in the offing. We hope you will be able to be with us. Walter Adler and /. Irving McDowell have been presented the Capt. George Bucklin Award, the highest honor that can be bestowed on adult volunteers by the Narragansett Council of Boy Scouts. Jimmy Jemail, the just-retired Inquir- ing Fotographer, is writing his memoirs and he's calling the book From the Cedars of Lebanon to the Sidewalks of New York. Inquiring Fotographer for The Daily News for 50 years, Jimmy was recently honored as a "fall guy" at a luncheon of the Circus Saints and Sinners in New York City. ^'t The sympathy of the alumnae is ^■iX extended to Olive Briggs Harring- ton on the recent death of her husband, Raymond. Josephine Hope has been on an ex- tended cruise which took her to Australia in November. Pauline Barrows Hughes and her hus- band have sold their home in Provider^ and are making their Buttonwoods (R.l home their permanent residence. They sailed in January on the Cristoforo Co lombo for a short Mediterranean cruisi with additional plans to spend two mc in southern Spain. ^ ^ Kathleen Boyd attended the d Jki^mi cation ceremonies for the Dr. i Ethel Percy Andrews Gerentology Ceri' at the University of Southern Californi Dr. Andrews was the founder of the National Retired Teachers Association' of the American Association of Retiree Persons. Kathleen is state director of tl NRTA for Rhode Island. Before returm home she visited friends in Hawaii ana California. ^ ^ "We're shooting for 100 back ^U ^7 the 50th," says Reunion Chair Don Thorndike. And in early April it se as though the goal might be reached. V headquarters at Poland House in the V Quadrangle, the weekend will start wit registration early Friday afternoon, Jun 1. Later, there will be a cocktail party i the home of Sybil Lownes Shields at 5^ Wingate Road, Providence, sponsored b Einar Soderback. The Alumni Dinner a Campus Dance round out the day. The Johnnie Lownes Memorial Loi in the Boat House will be the scene of luncheon and class meeting Saturday n Then most of the group will attend the Alumni Field Day, where a class tent v be available. A social hour and dinner be held at the Art Club Saturday evenii before we adjourn to the College Greet for the Pops Concert. Sunday morning group will leave by bus for Larry and 1 Lanpher's home in Little Compton, whi a swim in the Lanpher pool will be in (i der. This will be followed by lunch at S Stone House in Little Compton before i head back to the campus. One of the great traditions of the i will be continued Monday morning wK classmates and their wives are invited : breakfast at the University Club precei the Commencement Procession. The he once again will be Bill McCormick andi Jones. The final details of the alumnae 5( reunion are now complete. We will att( a class luncheon on Saturday, June 2, a Alumnae House and of course our 5011" year class dinner, the traditional Dean'' Supper, which will be held in the Cryst Room on Saturday evening at 6:30. Ml other events are planned for us and we looking forward to a most enjoyable w end. Art Fox has been inducted into the Massachusetts Baseball Coaches Assoc lion's Hall of Fame. This was the secOE 34 i II illlf Fame induction for the former lab High, Pittsfield High, and Williams iliie coach, who is already in the state- dt^ootball shrine. Art, who had 40 years ccching in private and public schools vs 1 as college, is now living in Wil- mown, Mass., and is employed at ef Mountain Race Track. ilgore Mncfarlane, Jr., won the Presi- nt Cup at the Paradise Valley Country ut.Ti Arizona last fall, the second time h taken this coveted cup home with Tl. k ■ The company Christmas party of j(' Kenyon Pierce Dyeworks, Inc., of lOi Island turned out to be a retirement rpse party for Frank Anzivino, who had •V the company as comptroller for m years. omenico A. lonnta, an engineer for > .ovidence Gas Company for 38 years d member of the Providence Building ai of Review, has been named "Engi- erf the Year" by the Rhode Island So- •t\)f Professional Engineers. Since his :irnent as superintendent of manufac- rii at the gas company in 1964, he has )r. d for the state Public Works Depart- mas an engineering consultant. Our isiiate was a founder of the state pro- iS nal engineers' society and is a past esent of that group as well as a past li'tal director of the engineering group. t; gas company, he adapted new gas ocction techniques after the use of coal s as phased out for natural gas prod- ts oily Kench manages to defy time, ■''.till doing his ballroom competitive nog — and still winning first-place izj. He also keeps busy with his church w. .lannel suit. 1 graduated into the Great Depres- ir Van Gelder says, "and you couldn't clmd choose your jobs then as you can ^. I was unemployed for a while, then zlie involved with the Socialist Party, idventually wound up with the labor 3'nicnt." " the 1930's Van Gelder harvested in -a fields, planted telegraph poles, -. u as a laborer in Montana tunnels, ijed as a seaman, and helped organize iifactories for the Amalgamated Cloth- g .'orkers in Philadelphia. 'an Gelder's memories of those turbu- n'ears are quite vivid. "In Newport Philip Van Gelder (right, foreground) at an AFL-CIO meeting in Baltimore. News, Va., we tried organizing shipyards that have remained non-union to this date. We'd have about 30 on strike and 3,000 or so would march through the picket lines. The company would fire people, we'd go in with a protest committee, and they'd fire the protest committee, too. In those days we had to meet in abandoned houses by candlelight, just like a bunch of anar- chists." By the mid-1930's, Van Gelder had become an organizer for the Industrial Ma- rine and Shipbuilding Workers of America, CIO, and was a leader in the rough-and- tumble strikes won by that union in 1934 and 1935 at New York Ship. During the early years of World War II, Van Gelder was one of the most important leaders in war production through his position as national secretary-treasurer of the Ship- building Workers. Then he contributed to the war effort in a more personal way as an "over-age" private who convinced his friends he had been drafted "so they wouldn't think I was crazy. Actually, I volunteered." After serving with the 5th Army in Italy, Van Gelder did graduate work in Mexico City under the G.I. Bill, spent time with the Electronics Union, and in 1957 came to Baltimore as international repre- sentative for the International Association of Machinists, AFL-CIO. His interest has largely been in health care, a fact that he insists has nothing to do with his wife, Miriam (Vassar '28) being a physician. "I just want to make sure the working man gets a break in medical care." Since his retirement last fall. Van Gelder has served as chairman of the new Maryland Health Maintenance Committee, a non-profit com- munity effort to improve health care in Baltimore. Looking back on his 40-year associa- tion with the labor movement. Van Gelder wouldn't change a thing even if he could. "I was in jail six times and I'm proud of it," he says. "If nobody ever violated the law, there would have been no labor move- ment. Labor has never gained anything by currying favor with politicians, as Meany and some of his cohorts are doing today. Labor has gained by being powerful enough to punish its enemies." Noting Van Gelder's strong support for McGovern last fall, one colleague was prompted to observe: "Phil has been a bat- tler all his life, and he left labor as he came in — battling against the odds." J.B. 37 /« M Powell H. Ensign has left New ^ / York City to start a free "shop- pers guide" called The Thrifty Shopper in Salisbury, Conn., covering a group of towns in Northwestern Connecticut. He lists him- self as publisher. Thomas Logan has been promoted to assistant controller at Worcester (Mass.) National Bank. Formerly with Arthur Young & Company in Boston, he joined the bank in 1970. -J Q A mailing to all classmates from ^fy 'he joint reunion chairmen, Luke Mayer and Ginny Macmillan Trescott, has provided full details on the four-day week- end, June 1-4. Suffice it to say at this time that the early response has been excep- tionally good. Ed Galway reports that he plans to try and make it back from Italy for Commencement. Audrey Maymon Bees- ley is returning from Nevada and Frank Cahalan sends word from West Germany that he may be back in the States in time to be with us. Frank Licht has been elected a trustee of Citizens Savings Bank of Providence. The former Rhode Island governor is a partner in the Providence law firm of Letts, Quinn, and Licht. Reevan ]. Novogrod, professor of pub- lic administration at Long Island University in Brooklyn, has been re-elected treasurer of the New York University Graduate School of Arts and Sciences Alumni Asso- ciation. In March he began an eight-part lecture series on "The Prison Scene" for the Metropolitan chapter of the American So- ciety for Public Administration in New York City. He is serving as chairman of the political science department at Long Island University. ^ ^% Gertrude Levin Pullman's son, ^ 3^ Richard, is a practicing attorney in Dallas, Texas, and her daughter, Leslie Ann, is a sophomore at American Uni- versity in Washington, D.C. jt f^ Harold D. Buck has been ap- ■j(\y pointed to the post of director of development for Goodwill Industries of Santa Clara County, with headquarters at San Jose, Calif. He has served as a fund- raising consultant to churches, colleges, and other non-profit institutions for more than 18 years. Harold and Jeanette and their two teen-age children reside in Martinez, Calif. Robert L Smith has been appointed president of Public Service Electric and Gas Company in Newark, N.J. He joined Pub- lic Service in 1940 and over the years has served in a number of posts, most recently as executive vice-president. /I'f Donald MncAusland was married ■jt JL to Janet Taylor on Jan. 7. At home: 35 Chapin Rd., Hampden, Mass. Charles H. Pease, Jr., is director of marketing at Boyer Realty Investments in New London, Conn. Paul G. Rohrdanz, board chairman of the Kleinhans Company of Buffalo, served as the fall semester executive-in-residence at Canisius College. In this role, he at- tended classes, conducted seminars, and participated in business discussions with students, faculty members, and adminis- trators. Paul was president of Kleinhans from 1967 to 1971, when he became chair- man of the board. jf 4^ Alumni of the class who live in 4c^ the New Hampshire- Vermont area are planning their first get-together in four years on Saturday, May 19, at the Dart- mouth Outing Club. The party will include a social hour at 6 followed by dinner and then a talk by the new Brown football coach, John Anderson, who was line coach at Dartmouth under Bob Blackman. The contact for plans is Bill Crooker, who can be reached at Dartmouth College. William H. Beaucliamp is a planning analyst with Hawaiian Electric Company in Honolulu, Hawaii. When Fairchild Industries, Inc., re- cently realigned all of its military aircraft capability into one subsidiary, it named Charles Collis as president of the new or- ganization, called Fairchild Republic Com- pany. He had been serving as executive vice-president of the parent firm. Calvin Fisher, Jr., is New England and Canadian sales manager for Industry Week magazine, published by the Penton Pub- lishing Company of Cleveland, Ohio. He works out of Farmington, Conn., where he lives. Joseph F. Lockett has been elected to a five-year term on the board of trustees of Hahnemann Hospital, Brighton, Mass. He is vice-president and New England sales manager for Dominick & Dominick, Inc., Boston investment advisers. Howard Williams and his brother, Roger IA/i7!!fl?7!s '47, have sold their family sporting-goods business, H. Harwood & Sons, manufacturers of premium softballs and baseballs. The company, located in Natick, Mass., was established in 1858 as the world's first manufacturer of baseballs. Howard, president of Harwood, will con- tinue in that capacity. /» ^ With John Hess and Lois Lindblom TE^J Buxton heading the respective com- mittees, the Brown and Pembroke classes of '43 have arranged a colorful and entertain- ing four-day program. The kickoff will come Friday afternoon, June 1, with regis- tration and a cocktail party at the Olney House headquarters. Then will come the traditional reunion events — the Alumni and Alumnae Dinner and the Campus Dance. A full schedule is set for Saturday, starting with the University Forums in the morning. The Brown-Pembroke groups will split at noon, each having separate lunch- eons and class meetings at Sharpe Refec- tory. Among the subjects to be discussed will be the question of merging the classes. A class tent will be available for everyone at the Alumni Field Day Saturday after- noon, with members urged to bring along their bathing suits if they would like to swim in the new pool during the afternoon hours. The program will continue with all of the '43 gang attending a social hour and I dinner at Wannamoisett Country CluW prior to the Pops Concert. There will b music and refreshments back at Olney House after the Pops. Things don't slow down too much Sunday. The Rhode Island Country Chin Barrington will be the scene of a brum followed by golf for the men and wom; An effort will be made to schedule son- time on the Brown tennis courts at Ale Dexter. There will be an informal gath ing at Olney House Sunday evening ar when schedules permit, classmates are urged to stay on for the Commencemei Procession Monday morning. Colbert's Security Services, Inc., oi Providence recently merged with Guar, n- Gross Protective Systems, Inc. At the f board meeting of the new company, Ai'ti IV. Drew, Jr., former president of Col- ' bert's, was elected chairman of the boa' y| i| Mnrcella Fagan Hance's daugl r,' 'Jt^k Donica, graduated from Nort! Illinois University and is a buyer for C solidated Millinery in Charleston, W.V Marcella's son, Steve, completed his to i of duty with the Navy and is a student I Bemidji (Minn.) State College. John Lyman, assistant editor of th Palo Alto Times, has been named presi it of the Northern California professiona chapter of Sigma Delta Chi, national j( - nalism society. John has been with the Times since 1956, serving as assistant i (s editor and then city editor before beinf named assistant editor. Evelyn Craven Pindzola's son, Mit is teaching at the University of Virgini and working on his doctorate there. Ai other son, David, graduated from the I ■ versity of Tennessee, and her third son Phillip, is a freshman at Southwestern ; versity at Memphis. Virginia Siravo Stanley's husband, Earl, has retired from the U.S. Navy ar a financial consultant at a mental healt center in Vincennes, Ind. Howard W. Young has been name juvenile court judge by Gov. Francis VV Sargent of Massachusetts. The new coi will be based in New Bedford, Mass. >« IJ" Guy W. Fiske has been namec ^t^ vice-president and group gene manager of automotive products at Int national Telephone & Telegraph Comp \ headquarters in New York. Since joinii ITT a few years ago, his duties have tr n him to several European countries incli ing Belgium, France, Italy, Spain, and Switzerland. L. Boyd Lukert is director of purcl ■ ing for the Shorgood Poultry Division Bay Shore Foods, Inc., in Hurlock, Md. M /' Cdr. Hebert W. Bolles is sta "to tioned at Newport, R.I., as a Tl chaplain. Craig W. Moodie, Jr., is a senior v| president of Rogers, Cowan & Brenner Inc., a New York City public relations ■] Milton Stern, a clinical chemist, is gional director for Florida of the Natio Health Laboratories in North Miami Bi 38 yj Dr. E/iof SleWar (GS) has been j/ elected provost at the University ■ ''nnsylvania. He had been serving as rc'ssor of physiological psychology. Mar- n leyerson, president of the University, Tied Dr. Stellar "one of our most dis- niished faculty, respected not only for c,hievements as a scholar and as a ,)ier but for his deep devotion to the niersity." For the past year, Dr. Stellar aoeen serving as co-chairman of the c lopment Commission, which was en- iid in a University-wide analysis of the school's future needs. Barbara F. Whipple has been appointed director of public relations for the Greater Boston chapter of the American Red Cross. She has served for the past 12 years as radio-television director of the Massachu- setts Bay United Fund and its predecessor organization, the United Fund of Greater Boston. She is the daughter of Helen Bor- den Whipple '22 and the late Dr. Stanley P. Whipple '20. *i yt rt Headquarters for the men's big ■JtO 25th reunion will be in the West Quad, either in Bigelow or Arnold Lounge, and that's where activities will start Friday afternoon with a cocktail party. The tra- ditional University-sponsored events round out the day — the Alumni Dinner and the Campus Dance. There will be an important class meet- ing Saturday noon at our headquarters, fol- lowed by lunch and then the Alumni Field Day. Brown's new swimming pool will be available for use, so pack your bathing ^anny Meyer: Fund-raising for Miami's Science Museum « The fierce-looking saber-toothed tiger hh shares a background of lush tropical •jtation with Bernice (Bunny) Cohan Iwr '46 is both the symbol of Miami's iifium of Science and the piece de re- since of an outdoor exhibit at the Mu- •111 which depicts pre-historic wildlife. Ii Meyer feels a proprietary interest in leaber-toothed tiger because of her mem- enip in a group called the Patrons of the Ii2um of Science. The patrons are an Hgetic group of about 150 women who e'te about ten months of every year to l?aing an Around the World Fair which, V the past 13 years, has raised about 11,000 for the Museum, enabling it to 1 ive and grow. As anyone who has ever tried it nvs, you don't raise that kind of money ■i; a glorified bake sale. The fair is a vday event held at the vast Tropical :a. Race Track. It is, maybe, slightly less 5 cheated to plan than a national political D ention. The persuasive methods of the a 3ns are such that members of the local u'ness community don't dare not con- .i;ite generous amounts of merchandise ) ? sold or raffled at the fair. iTwo years ago, Mrs. Meyer proved her X utive ability as co-chairman of the i: Her responsibility was to supervise the odinators of the art show, the enter- rment, the ethnic food, and the sales .ci.hs. As she describes it, one of her .ijes was "to act as trouble shooter when ilchairmen met obstacles in making con- ^ and obtaining supplies. (When changes ;fianagement of local businesses result aavid L. Htitcher is a stockbroker with /tj Eastman Dillon Securities in Hous- 1,'exas. Aark S. Hoffman and his wife, Ann b Hoffman '66, are living in Dedham, i<, where he is an assistant district attorney for Norfolk County. Recently, he and his brother, Richard, who is also an assistant district attorney, formed a part- nership and opened an office for the gen- eral practice of law in Walpole, Mass. A few months ago Mark was nominated for selection as one of the nation's ten most outstanding young men. Heinz D. Osteite (GS) is an associate professor of German at Northern Illinois University. Dr. George A. Vidulicli (GS) is asso- ciate professor of chemistry at Holy Cross College. Gloria Berman Weinstock and her husband, Murray, are parents of a daugh- ter, Judith Ann, born August 15. Bruce T. Williams is an instructor in anthropology at the University of Pitts- burgh campus in Johnstown, Pa. /Z Cf Henry D. Anderson is a graduate 17^ student at Syracuse University. Henry R. Bauer, III, who received his Ph.D. degree from Stanford University in January, is an assistant professor of com- puter science at the University of Wyoming in Laramie. Richard N. Hale is an assistant to the president for employee relations at the State University of New York College of Arts and Science at Geneseo, N.Y. K. Sridhar lya (GS) is a research as- sociate with the State University of New ne Pincus: A question about doctors led to a book low do you choose a good doctor? hat was the first question asked at a la discussion group on "women and ;ibodies" which began meeting in Bos- 1 the spring of 1969. The women were it bed by the condescending and pater- lijc attitudes of many doctors they had cintered. They did not find it reassur- ; ' have their medical questions an- ■ed with, "Don't worry your pretty lit- ad, my dear. Just leave everything to ;. But when group members tried to mle a list of "good" local gynecologist- s.tricians, they discovered that they etd to learn more about their own bod- :i i fore they could intelligently evaluate it al information. So instead of rating sn doctors, the group researched and ■c' a handbook on women's health 1^1 has sold several hundred thousand ps in three different versions. )ne of the original members of the dj — now called the Boston Women's !b Ferry, N.Y. V \RD LAWRENCE LAWYER '25 G nd Rapids, Mich., Dec. 2, after a ig Iness. He was the co-founder of ?p'nson & Lawyer, Inc., a Grand Rapids rnire supply firm. He served as presi- r>t f the company for many years and IS lairman of the board at the time of ; cath. During World War II, Mr. Law- r ;rved as a lieutenant commander with :I5. Navy. Early this year an "Edward L. w r Scholarship" was established at the ihrsity and endowed with $6,000. Of is Tiount, $5,000 was voted by the ai of directors of Mr. Lawyer's former n nd $1,000 given by Harold L. Sum- 23, his roommate at Brown. Mr. . ; :s survived by his widow, Mrs. Ed- in'-/ Lawyer, 286 Shorehaven Drive, . irand Rapids. ^,:\ ARTHUR SOPER, JR. '25 P t Hueneme, Calif., Jan. 15. He re- etn 1967 as district sales manager for oi.le Manufacturing Company in Cleve- idOhio. Mr. Soper also had been a dis- ctales manager for Scoville in Pitts- tf and in Waterbury, Conn., where the nial offices, mills, and factories are lo- te He was a past president and secre- ry f the Brown Club of Western Penn- lv\ia. Phi Kappa Psi. His widow is itC. Soper, 2541 Neptune Place, Port le^me. riUR WILLIAM SMITH '26 Fmouth, Mass., Sept. 17. He was a JCinical engineer who worked with 31 & Webster Engineering Corporation Eiton for 40 years before retiring in 61 Mr. Smith was a member of the nican Society of Mechanical Engineers. frother is Philip N. Smith '29, and his V is Sylvia M. Smith, 89 High St., a:ham, Mass. .^;5 BLAIR TRUMBOWER '26 liladelphia. Pa., Sept. 12. For the past \iTs he had been a realtor in the leas- g apartment of Albert M. Greenfield & inany. Inc., in Atlantic City, where the e rious Trumbower was known as "Mr. >£lwalk." During World War II, he rd as a captain in the Army. An out- liing baseball player at Brown, he was ird to the Brown Athletic Hall of Fame 171. Beta Theta Pi. He is survived by his widow, Mrs. Geneva Trumbower, 4713 Mainland Drive, Fort Lauderdale, Fla., two sons, and a daughter. ROBERT ALLEN WILLIAMSON '26 in Pawling, N.Y., Aug. 7, 1972. At the time of his death he was commissioner of fi- nance for Dutchess County in Poughkeep- sie, N.Y. He is survived by a son, Jed Williamson, Nottingham, N.H. EMERSON MILROY CULLINGS '29 in Rochester, N.Y., Dec. 23. He was a field representative for the Rochester architec- tural firm of Northrup, Kaelbert & Copf. Mr. Cullings was a self-employed building contractor before joining Northrup, Kael- bert & Copf. Interested in restoring old houses, Mr. Cullings was a member of the Scottsville (N.Y.) Historic District. His widow is Carolyn S. Cullings, 50 Rochester Road, Scottsville. DR. MYRON FREDERICK ROSSKOPF '34 Ph.D. in Ridgefield, Conn., Jan. 31. He was chair- man of the mathematics department at Teachers College of Columbia University. Dr. Rosskopf was considered a pioneer in the application to mathematics of the cog- nitive development theory of Swiss psy- chologist Jean Piaget. In 1971, Dr. Ross- kopf was appointed to the Clifford Brew- ster Upton Chair in Mathematical Education at Columbia. He received his A.B. degree from the University of Minnesota in 1928. His widow is Frances M. Rosskopf, 50 Standish Drive, Ridgefield. RANDOLPH CORNWELL ROUNDS '34 in Naples, Fla., Oct. 24. He was the retired branch manager of the Monroe Calculator Division of Litton Industries at Louisville, Ky. Phi Gamma Delta. His sister is Ada Rounds Taylor '32, and his widow is Nancy N. Rounds, 150 Teryl Road, Naples. WHITNEY BALDWIN CALLAHAN '47 in Rochester, N.Y., Jan. 12. Since 1962 he had been coordinator of the math-science department at Brighton High in Rochester. After Navy service, Mr. Callahan earned a B.A. at Oberlin (1948) and an M.A. from Columbia (1950). After teaching chemistry, math, and physics in Nyack, N.Y., and serving as assistant principal in Lansing, N.Y., Mr. Callahan was named to his most recent position when Brighton High opened. His widow is Earlene R. Callahan, 150 Howland Ave., Rochester. RICHARD HENRY WOULFE '51 in Spivak, Colo., Dec. 18. He was an in- vestment banker in the Los Angeles office of Lehman Bros., members of the New York Stock Exchange. During World War II, Mr. Woulfe served in the Army. He was with Bosworth, Sullivan &. Company, before assuming the Denver branch man- agership of McDonnell & Company in 1960. Mr. Woulfe was a former president of the Brown Club of Colorado. Alpha Delta Phi. His widow is Anne K. Woulfe, 188-A South Monaco Parkway, Denver. ARMAND ALBERT BESSETTE '54 on Feb. 3 when the single-engine plane he was flying as a student pilot crashed in Taunton, Mass. Mr. Bessette taught in the Attleboro (Mass.) school system for 17 years and was chairman of the English de- partment at Attleboro High at the time of his death. Active in politics in Seekonk, Mass., he served as chairman of the Re- publican town committee, as a member and chairman of the school committee, and, for the past three years, as a member of the zoning board of review. He held a mas- ter's in education from Rhode Island Col- lege. His widow is Mrs. Anne Marie Bes- sette, 264 West Ave., Seekonk. GEORGE THOMAS CHRISTIAN, JR. '56 in Stamford, Conn., Jan. 16. Reportedly concerned because an evaluation of his teaching performance did not meet his ex- pectations, he killed his wife and two sons and then hanged himself. Mr. Christian had been a junior high school teacher in Greenwich, Conn, since 1966. He served for two years after graduation with Liberty Mutual Insurance Company in Mount Ver- non, N.Y. He spent three years in the Army, taught at Man Junior High in Man, W.Va., and then earned his M.A. in sci- ence-education at Columbia in 1965. He is survived by his mother, Mrs. Irene Chris- tian, 346 Richbell Road, Mamaroneck, N.Y. JAMES J. DUNDA '65 one of Brown's finest athletes, in Little Silver, N.J., Jan. 12, after falling asleep at the wheel and crashing his car into a tree in the early-morning hours of Jan. 11. Dunda was a 1968 graduate of New York University Law School and, at the time of his death, was with the firm of Anschele- witz, Barr, Ansell and Bonello of Asbury Park, N.J. An exciting quarterback, Dunda was a brilliant passer, and the combination of Dunda and end John Parry formed one of Brown's most famous passing teams. Kappa Sigma. His widow is Virginia Dunda, of 58 Crest Drive, Little Silver. A James J. Dunda Memorial has been established at the University. 47 On Stage: The continuing debate: S/NC vs. A-B-C Members of the class of '72,, who graduate this June, will be the first generation of Brown students to have started and finished their undergraduate education under the New Curriculum. Perhaps a handful of the seniors who will march down the Hill in June will graduate without ever having taken a course for a letter grade. A prospective employer looking at the transcript of such a student would see a page full of S's for satisfactory and, perhaps, a folder containing course performance reports which evaluate the student's work in certain courses. When the New Curriculum was adopted in 1969, the re- vised grading system was a frank compromise, taking into ac- count conflicting educational philosophies. As Jerome B. Grieder, associate professor of political science, wrote in the BAM. in July of 1969, the evaluation system was one of the most radical and controversial aspects of the New Curricu- lum. The faculty voted to allow a student the option to be graded with a "Satisfactory" in any course. At the same time, the individual instructor was also given the option of offering any course only on the Satisfactory or No Credit grading basis. (The precise statistics are hard to pin down, but after four years of operation, it seems that fewer than ten percent of undergraduate courses have been offered on a strictly S/NC basis and only a very small number of students have never chosen to take a course on an A-B-C basis.) At the time the New Curriculum was adopted, Grieder wrote that it was hoped the Satisfactory/No Credit option would "be adopted by an increasing number of students and teachers and that in consequence a de-emphasis on the im- portance of grades and an easing of the emotional tensions that grades engender may result. . . . Many teachers are convinced that grades provide at best a faulty index of what a student has or has not accomplished in a given course — cryptic notations that reflect, almost by necessity in many cases, highly subjective judgments, but that assume the character of precise and objective standards once they have been entered on the student's permanent record." According to Grieder, students have their own objections to the old grading system. "More than any other single factor, student critics blame the grading system for injecting into the classroom and into the student-teacher relationship, the air of constraint, of contrived and coercive authority, that is so dam- aging to the encouragement of rewarding relationships and genuinely creative intellectual enterprise." The dual grading system which provided for both A-B-C and Satisfactory ratings was designed to meet the criticisms of traditional grading, while at the same time, serving the in- terests of "those students and members of the faculty in whose judgment the identification of outstanding academic performance is crucial for personal or professional reasons." During the past month the issue of just what compromise is desirable between those two conflicting goals has been raised again. Edward Beiser, associate professor of political science, introduced a resolution at a faculty meeting calling for the elimination of the right of a faculty member to give any course exclusively on the basis of Satisfactory/No Cred Beiser proposed his amendment because he felt that student; who were applying to graduate or professional schools were handicapped by having a transcript heavy with S grades. "The issue is," Beiser said during the faculty meeting debate "should the student have the right to go to the professor anc say, 'I want you to certify my work in a notation that will have some meaning in the outside world.' " j Apparently a large number of students do not consider that right to be very compelling. About 2,400 undergraduate — over half of the student body — signed a petition supportin the present grading system. The Educational Policy CommitHJ tee, which advises the faculty on matters pertaining to the curriculum, found its members split into three almost equal camps so it decided to present all three options to the faculty rather than "attempting to paper over our very deep divi- . sions." The faculty debated not only the pros and cons of allow ing instructors the right to offer a course on the basis of S/NC, but also the merits of a compromise proposal which would require an instructor who felt that the subject matter ' of his course made an A-B-C evaluation impossible to peti- tion the appropriate committee for permission to offer the course on an S/NC basis. The debate during the faculty meeting centered around two conflicting factors: what is pedagogically desirable for students and what professional schools require in the way of j credentials. It seems that law schools, especially, have been | slow to warm to the idea of accepting students with a heavy ; dose of Satisfactory grades. However, Jon Rogers, a student member of the Educational Policy Committee, did a study which, although it relied on limited data, seemed to indicate that there is a higher correlation between law board scores and admission to a good law school than there is between thi number of Satisfactory grades taken and admission to law school. Faculty members who were in favor of retaining the pre ent dual system argued that a course which is offered only 0/ an S/NC basis provides a different educational experience from one where some of the students were competing for grades and others were not. The results of a student opinion survey taken by the Educational Policy Committee added weight to this contention. Assistant Professor of English Joh Emigh maintained that more processes are open as a way of learning in courses that are offered S/NC only and that stu- dents can work cooperatively on projects and have a more relaxed relationship with the teacher. After extended debate, the faculty voted 70-54 to leave the grading system as it is — so the instructor retains the op- tion of offering any course only on the Satisfactory/No Crec basis. It seemed certain, however, that this would not be the last time that elements of the New Curriculum would be cha ( lenged by those who found themselves in disagreement withi them, either for philosophical or pragmatic reasons. ^j 48 CommeiKement Pops Concert Saturday, June 2, 1973 On the College Green, 9 to 11 p.m. Mary Costa, the star of the new MGM movie, "The Great Waltz," will be the featured performer at the 9th annual Commencement Pops Concert. The MetropoUtan Opera star is equally at home in Operette and for her part of the program will present "A Night in Vienna." Miss Costa will appear with the R. 1. Philharmonic Orchestra, with Francis Madeira conducting. As in the past, sponsorship is by the Brown Club of Rhode Island and the Pembroke College Club of Providence. Tickets for the Pops are $7 and $4.50, with reserved tables of 10 available for $70 and $45, respectively. Patron tables in a preferred location are $120 and include 10 tickets and the name of the patron in the printed program. Checks should be made payable to Brown Club of Rhode Island and mailed to Commencement Pops Concert, Box 1859, Brown University, Providence, R. I. 02912. Tickets may also be picked up personally at Alumm House, 159 George Street. VIEW P^ONA WMERtv\AM STP f