Brown Alumni Monthh November 1974 As Charles Qlansey 74 ended his speech, there was first a rustle, then a roar. At eleven o'clock in the morning on a clear June day in a white clapboard meeting house at the foot of a steep hill, a young man came to the last two sentences of his Senior Oration. We'd like to share them with you "When we leave here, we aren't going to miss it." You could sense a slight stiffening of backs, the raising of an eyebrow. For Tansey's charge to his fel- low seniors had been eloquently thoughtful — an examination of what they'd really learned, an exploration of what Brown had actually intended and achieved. Then what brought about the roar? Tansey's last line — a thought which, perhaps, says it all for all of us who believe in this place. /•*^ "We aren't going to miss it because we're going to take it with us." In a way then, this ought to be the theme for Brown's now and future appeals for alumni sup- port. Each of us takes, has taken, something of the idea of this University and the ideals for which it stands. Or as Tansey put it in his third from final sentence, ". . . an institution which has taught us not to settle for what is second best. . ." This is why we feel so free to ask you to give so freely to Brown. Brown has made that great leap forward to the front ranks of American universities. You might call it a triumph of pure will, for Brown has had neitherthe huge endowment nor the high level of annual giving that would make; such progress inevit-' able or easy. It has happened because; Brown's own con-i stituency has made it' happen. But progress is no guarantee of success. Brown needs the increased support of its- 40,000alumni andfriendsto keepthat place and pace. The 1974-75 Brown Fund is the time and place to begin. Brown's goal is $1,140,000 in unrestricted giving. That's not a ceiling; it's a floor. Richard Salomon's Matching Challenge Gift has been made to make every dollar you give that much bigger. So won't you — if you have taken Brown with you (and you must have) — send back one piece? Brown needs it. The Brown Fund — if we don't, who wiin IBlTOWIffi Brown Alumni Monthly, November 1974, Vol. 75, No. 3 Editor Robert M. Rhodes Associate Editors John F. Barry, Jr. '50 Sandra Reeves Assistant Editor Kathleen C- Smith 74 GS Editorial Assistant Janet M. Phillips 70 Design Consultant Don Paulhus Board of Editors Chairman Garrett D. B\Tnes '26 Vice-Chairman Gladys Chernack Kapstein '40 Anthony L. Aeschliman '65 Cornelia D. Dean '69 Doris Stearn Donovan '59 lames E. DuBois '50 Beverh' Hodgson '70 Alfred's. Reynolds '48 Douglas R. Riggs '61 lArthur O. Williams, Jr. '37 GS D 1974 by Brolt'n Alunim Monthiif Published [monthlv, except ]anuarv. June, and August, bv Brown Universit\, Providence, R.I Printed b\' The Lane Press, Burlington, Vt Editorial offices are in Nicholson House, 71 George St . Providence, R I 02906 Second dass postage paid at Providence, R 1.. and at additional mailing offices Member, American .Alumni Council American College Public Relations Association The Monthly is ient to all Brown alumni Please allow eight [weeks for changes-of-address. Postmaster: Dend Form 3579 to Box 1908, Brown University, i^ovidence, R.I. 02912 page / fnige 23 In this issue 7 "Deterioration of an Already Precarious Condition" With the charts, the facts, and the analyses that only a vice-president for finance and operations could muster, Paul F. Maeder adds sub- stance to the gloomv financial rumors circulating at Brown. From his vice-presidential perspective, he offers an overview of the Universitv's "monumental headache." 12 The Charter Twelve B\' dav thev wear white coats and carr\- stethoscopes, but at night thev mav be listening to barocque music, reading Sanskrit, or tinker- ing with electronics. Thev are the first dozen medical students to complete requirements for the M.D. degree at Brown, and they are "not the typical medical graduates of their day." 23 The CIA Lvman Kirkpatrick is asked a lot of hard c]uestions whenever an event such as the Chilean military takeover focuses aaxious attention on the Central Intelligence Agencv. But the professor of political science is neither apologist nor detractor where his previous employer is concerned. Ininterviews with the BAM, the former Inspector General of the CIA presents a cogent personal assessment of the agency's strengths and weaknesses. 30 Continuing Education on the Streets of New York New York's SoHo district combines the allure of sophisticated living with the aroma of popcorn and garbage bins. It was the scene of a recent alumni lecture tour led by Art Professor William Jordy, who descnbed the cast-iron architecture which gives the district its historical distinction. Departments 2 Under the Elms 36 Procession With this issue, the BAM begins a special section that will be devoted to alumni alumnae news. Written by Associate Editor Jay Barry, PmcL'ssioii will include reports on the group activities anci decisions that affect Brown alumni, as well as personal glimpses into the lives of alumni. 40 The Classes 51 Carr\'ing the Mail 52 Sports page 30 \Zooer: Designer Don Paulhiif createil this eollage of faces and liands to ■ llustrate the many inoods of Brown's first medical graduates. Tlic faces vlong to (top) Ed Collins: (center) Dean Efflcr. jwi Upich, and Bob 'Aeyer; and (bottom) Dan Small. Photographs In/ Hugh Smyser. ILJiriidl(gir th® Ehm Engineering's new chairman has a primary goal: more students Brown engineering students will be writing personal letters to about 1,200 high school seniors around the country this year as part of efforts to increase the enrollment in the University's small but nationally prominent Division of En- gineering. The high schoolers are top scholars who have high SAT scores in math and an interest in engineering as a career. Members of Tau Beta Pi, the honorary engineering society, are writing them letters describing what it's like to be an engineering student at Brown. Since the highly sought group will probably also receive reams of uninspired prose drafted for the signatures of engineer- ing deans and department heads, the personalization should be a welcome contrast. At least, that is the fond hope of Brown's new chairman of engineer- ing, Rodney J. Clifton. Increasing enrollments — both in undergraduate and in graduate en- gineering programs — will be Rod Clifton's primarv goal over the next three years. He hopes to help boost the size of the undergraduate entering class from its present 113 students to a target class size of 175 and to increase the total graduate enrollment from eighty-three to 120. Although he is sure he has a solid program to sell, he is the first to admit that increases will not come easily. Nationally, enrollments in en- gineering have been steadily declining for some time, Clifton says, and they reached rock bottom last year. The ef- fects of the energy crisis, on the other hand, have begun to increase the need for engineers. "There are indications nationally that the demand for engi- neers is going to be very great for at least the next five years," Clifton savs. "Our engineering students are finding it very easy to get good jobs now. They are all being employed, and many are getting multiple offers." Some people in the field, in fact, think that the Ameri- can demand for engineers will outstrip the availability, causing the Uniteti States to seek engineers in Europe and elsewhere. This was a concern ex- Rod CUftou: Neiv chainiian of a natioually recognized division. pressed, Clifton notes, by the British Embassy's counsel for science and tech- nology, J. F. Barnes, who visited the Brown campus in October to present a gold medal from his country's engineer- ing societies to Brown Engineering Pro- fessor Mayo Hersey (see accompanying story). Although Clifton isn't sure that he shares the Britisher's views, he does fet that the demand for engineers will be "brisk," especially in the areas of civil, electrical, and mechanical engineering. "Which just happen to be the areas thai Brown puts a lot of emphasis on," he adds. Named as chairman of the divi- sion's executive committee last Au- gust. Rod Clifton is a thirty-seven- i year-old civil engineer who has been on the Brown faculty for ten years. His •field of study is solid mechanics, and his research is primarih' in stress waves, or Hthe nature of wave patterns in solids .subjected to dynamic loading. He has made significant contributions to the understanding of how metals respond t(i impact, anti he has also served as a consultant to General Motors. Last year he began an energv-related consulting role with Terra Tek, Inc., on hydraulic tracturing of rock to increase the pro- duction of natural gas wells. The division chairman is also famil- iar with the educational aspects of a scientific crisis such as energy, and he is hi'ping that increased support for the sciences is in the offing. 'T myself got into graduate school (at Carnegie - Mel- lon Uniyersit\) because of Sputnik; the same thing could happen now with energy," he says. Part of his plans for building up the graduate enrollment rests on this assumptitm. Along with most other schools, graduate programs "\r\ the sciences at Brown have been hurt b\ the withdrawal of federal trainee- ships for doctoral and pre-doctoral stu- I dents. "If the establishment of the I iiergy Resource Development Agency iLRDA) will mean a great deal of sup- port for research in energy, and if we are successful in tapping it, that would mean that we ha\'e more money avail- ■ able for graduate assistantships," Clif- ton says in discussing his goal. "The government traineeships might also be re-established for energy. If all these ithings go through, then it (increased ' enrollment) could happen very fast." All in all, however, Clifton thinks "it's a pretty difficult time to be chair- man." Like most academic adminis- trators, he is charged with maintaining quality within a tightly controlled budget. "Everyone likes to be chairman ivhen times are good," says the soft- spoken engineer. "Then you can bring in the bright young faculty star and u-atch him move up through the ranks. That's not realh' the way things are right now." Right now, Clifton is finding his 'role as chairman one of deliberadon. He jhas been meeting with each of the 'division's forty facultx- members and with its executive committee to devise ways to accomplish several objectives for engineering. In addition to enrollment increases, the objectives include a strengthening of the division's materials science pro- gram, according to Clifton. Brown is the site of one of the interdisciplinary Mate- rials Research Laboratories fi.mded by the National Science Foundahon and the Advanced Research Projects Agency. Directed by Engineering Pro- fessor Gerald S. Heller, the laboratory is a SI. 4 million effort that includes the departments of physics, applied mathematics, chemistry, engineering, and geological sciences. One of the first things the new chairman of engineering did was to appoint a materials science planning committee to coordinate both his division's input for the laboratory and the division's own materials science program. Another objective is curricular re- view, and it is in discussing this area that Professor Clifton gives a clue to what he considers to be a great strength of undergraduate training in engineer- ing at Brown. The engineering cur- riculum evolved with an engineering- science core of three years in which all students would take the same basic courses. This meant that only in the senior year could a student concentrate, so that, for instance, only about four courses differentiated the civil engineer- ing major from the electrical engineer- ing major. "I think this is a very sound pro- gram," Clifton says. "I think it's the ap- propriate training for someone going into industry or going on to graduate work. The special skills for a particular job are best learned on the job, and the broad base of engineering science is best learned at a university. "Today you have to train a student who is versatile," the chairman be- lieves. "If his bag is supersonic flight, and suddenly supersonic transport is out, then you want him to be able to move freely into energy or something else." About four years ago, the cur- riculum was changed slightly, so that the core was only two and a half years, and students could begin specializing a half year earlier. "Students tend to want to specialize. Some of them would specialize from the day they come in," Clifton says. The whole educational process, especially the freshman year, \\ ill be reviewed this year. Versatility is one of the Brown en- gineering student's greatest assets, ac- cording to Clifton. It is what sets him apart from students in some other pro- grams, and it may be one of the keys to the recruiting game. There is always a higher rate of acceptance among the prospective students who attend re- cruiting get-togethers held on campus in the spring. "Those people get to know each other and learn something about the students they will be enrolled with," Clifton says. What's a Brown en- gineering student like? "They're a dif- ferent kind of engineering student, one with broad interests," says the pro- fessor. "They are very competent scientifically, but they aren't eggheacis. They have another dimension, and they are interestecl in other people and in in- terpersonal relationships." Clifton has the same kind of praise for the engineering faculty, which he describes as "strongly research ori- ented." Good research is a necessity for good teaching in engineering, he be- lieves, and research at Brown is gaining national attention. In addition to trying to answer such fundamental questions as whether line imperfections in a solid material can travel faster than sound, the research also includes investigations of more immediate application, such as the following: creating stronger metals by reducing their grain size (materials science), understanding blood clotting, the mechanics of artificial lungs, and the neuromuscular response of subjects under the influence of alcohol and mari- juana (biomedical engineering), work- ing out the "control theory" for such things as helicopter flight controls and mechanized producHon processes (elec- trical engineering), and trying to con- vert solar energy economically to elec- trical energ\' through the use of solar cells (solid state materials and devices). Clifton has particular praise for the division's "outstanding group in frac- ture mechanics." Fracture mechanics is the field which seeks an understanding of the conditions under which a solid material will fail. The ill-conceived Lib- erty Ships of World War II, which some- times broke apart in the water, were an example of extreme brittle fracture. Areas in which applications from such research could prove useful include air- craft construction, construction prob- lems with both oil pipelines from Alaska and pressure vessels for nuclear reac- tors. "I think it is fair to say that the real strength in fracture mechanics in the United States, and perhaps the world, is here," says Professor Clifton. Due largely to the caliber of re- search. Brown engineering is unusually strong nationally for a division its size. The American Council on Education's iMtiiigs lor gi'iuliMlc pro^r.ims show Brown seventh in nioclnniiiil engineer- ing, fourteenth in civil engineering, and eighteenth In eleilrie.il engineering — even though Brown iliiesn'l hnve lorm.il departments in these areas. Reaching the l.irgi'l enrollments for both gradiiati.' and untU'rgr.ukiale pro- grams would "grealK im)irove opera- tions," Clifton savN. Because thi' divi- sion is so small, when Ihi- senior stu- dents split into various "options," such as civil engineering, mech sand that tells Robinson Crusoe a man has passed along the beach" in his definition. Brown's English department is of- fering semiotics as a concentration for the first time this vear. Professor Robert Schok's, the program's director, says the new concentration "will combine a lot of very different interests into one major with language and communica- tion at the center." The purpose of Ihv new concentra- tion is to tie together the verbal and w ritten aspects of communication. Stu- dents in the English department who have previouslv specialized in creative writing, film, speech, or drama will now be ionsidcred semiotics concentrators. "Most people think of semiotics as a theoretical discipline, but we think of it as a practical one," says Professor Scholes. "We are keeping theory and practice together by combining com- munication theory with the study of lit- erature." To complete a concentration in semiotics, a student must take Robert Sclwlcs: Changing sludenl interests. courses in three areas: expression (in- cluding courses in film-making, dance, and oral discourse); literature (with em- phasis on genri- studies); and the theory of languagi- and literature (including literary criticism, linguistics, and the philosophy of language.) The new concentration is the result of a shift in the areas of student interest over the past few years, as reflected in course enrollment. All across the coun- try, says Professor Scholes, "the tradi- tional part of the English curriculum (such as courses in American and British literary histor\'| is standing still, VN'hile the study of language is boom- ing." Semiotics is appealing because many students are interested in compar- ing the old media (poetry, the novel, etc.) to the new (film and video tape). "Semiotics relates the different com- municative systems," Scholes explains. By comparing different media, such as a film based on a novel, students can focus on how lorm affects content And whether, in the words of Marshall McEuhan, the medium is the message. Brown's [{nglish department is al- ready strong in the communicative arts, with particular emphasis on writing courses. "We have the best program in the use of language (v\ riting and spi'ak- ing) in the Ivy League," says Professor Scholes, who feels that the innovative semiotics concentration at Brown will be a major selling point lur fLiliire stu- dents. Professor Hersey wins a British scientific award The work of Ma\'o Dyer Hersey, an eighty-eight-year-old Brown engineer- ing professor who still comes in to the office each day, has proved so signifi- cant in alleviating the present energy shortage that he has been awarded a gold medal from a group of British en- gineering societies. Professor Mersey's research is in the field of tribology the scientific study of friction in machines. As he ex- plains simply, the less friction a ma- chine has to overcome, the greater the energy savings. Though he is c^uick to disclaim the importance of his own Kvnrk ("It just so happened it was my turn for the nomination," he says), the award was voted to Hersey after previ- oils recipients said he was tlw world .ui- thority on triLx)log\-. The Brow n prote'-sor wa^ honi>red for an aeciinuilation of research m the field, rather than for any single con- tribution. hT a gracious move by the British government, the scientific at- tache of the British Embassy in Wash- ington, D.C., ]. F. Barnes, tlew to Provi- dence for the presentation, after Pro- fessor Hersey had expressed reluctance to travel either to England or Washing- ton to receive the award. An elaborate presentation ceremon\' in Washington co-sponsored b\- the British Embassy and the National Bureau of Standards had been contemplated, but Hersev accepted the award "on the condition that it did not involve travel." A graduate of MIT (bachelor of sci- ence), Colorado College (bachelor of arts), and Olivet College (master of arts in physics). Professor Hersev became interesteci in tribologv when he had to choose a thesis topic in T-X^S. "I wanted to get into something that \\ ould remain important o\er the years and would sustain mv interest," he recalls. "Tri- bology fit the bill." At MIT, the Brovsn engineer con- ducted experiments on journal bear- ings, examples of which are today's crankshaft and ceinnecting-rod bearings in automobiles. Later, while attending Harvard, he began stud\'ing the viscos- ity of oil under ver\- high pressure. Vis- cosity is the resistance to flow, and Her- sey and a Harvarci professor with whom he worked found that, in addition to temperature, pressure was a primar\- factor in resistance to flow. Born in Pawtuxet Xeck, R.l,, Pvo- fessor Hersev was a lecturer and re- search associate at Brown from 1934 to 1936. He returned to Brown as a visiting professor of engineering (research) in 1957 and has worked on campus for the last seventeen years. His long career in engineiTing in- cludes fifteen years as a member of the staff of the National Bureau of Stan- dards, as well as numerous posts at the Naval Engineering Experiment Station at Annapolis. He has taught at both Har\'ard and MIT, and he served as a consultant to the Manhattan Project at Columbia Universit\' during World War 11. Ht)nors are not a new experience for Professor Hersey. In 1967 he was awarded the ASME Medal bv the Amer- ican Society of Mechanical Engineers for his applications of science to engi- 1^*' -^ Mayo Hersey: In the office eivn/ day. neering. He was also the first recipient, in 1965, of the Ma\o D. Hersev Award, which is now gi\en annualh- h\' ASME in recognition of "outstanding and con- tinued contributions to the field of lubrication science and engineering." Focus n Newell M. Stullz, formerly as- sociate dean of the Graduate School, has been named chairman of the politi- cal science department, replacing Elmer E. Cornwell, who served as acting chairman for the past vear. Professor Stultz' specialtN' is comparative politics, particularh' as it relates to southern Af- rica, and he has written a number of ar- ticles and books on the subject. Recent works include Afiicnncr Politics in Soutli Africa, 1934 to 1948. published this \'ear, and Who Goes to Parliament?, a forthcom- ing book about South African parlia- mentarians, D Two facultN' members. Associate Professor of Political Science Edward Beiser and Universit\' Professor George Morgan, ha\'e been chosen as the tirst recipients of the newly established Henr\- Wriston Faculty Fellowships, created to acknowledge teaching excel- lence. Established in 1972 to honor Brown's eleventh president, the Wris- ton Fund was a gift from Thomas j. Watson, Jr. '37, who contributed $450,000 to provide an endowed fund. The fellowships enable recipients to take one semester off from their usual academic responsibilities at full pa\' Prc)fessor Beiser, who will take his fel- lowship during the spring semester, plans to continue his studies at Harvard Law School. Professor Morgan will take his fellowship during the 1975-76 academic year. He plans to spend the time working on a sequel to his book. Companionship: An Essay on Human Rela- tionships, and working on ideas for a new course he is teaching this fall on possibilities for social reconstruction. D English Professor Robert Scholes' latest book. Structuralism in Lit- erature, was published in April b\' the Yale University Press. n Harl E. Ryder, Jr., a member of the Brown facult\' since 1965, has been named chairman of the economics de- partment. A specialist in mathematical models of econcimic organization. Pro- fessor Ryder is currently working on the application of a mathematical game model to the international oil situation. D There have been two recent ad- ditions to the staff of the Graduate School. Bernard E. Bruce, an educa- tional consultant and former associate dean at the Har\'ard Graduate School of Education, has been named associate dean of the Graduate School. He will have ov'erall responsibilit\' fcir graduate student life, including admissions, financial aid, fellowships, and other as- pects of student affairs. Arlene M. Stiebel, a Ph.D. candidate in English and comparative literature at Columbia, has been appointed assistant to the dean of the Graduate School. She will serve as a liaison with faculty and graduate stucient organizations and will handle housing, emergenc\' student loans, and special projects for Graduate School Dean Maurice Glicksman. D Professor of Slavic Languages Thomas G. Winner attended a UNES- CO-sponsored conference on Franco- Slavic relations at the Sorbonne in Paris this fall. A former chairman of the Slavic languages department at Brown and a specialist in Slavic languages and cul- tures. Professor Winner was the only American invited to attend. He is cur- rentK' finishing a book on the poetics of the Prague Linguistic Circle and mod- ern structural and semiotic theories in Europe. Bv Paul F. Maeder Hugh Smvser ?1" Deterioration of an already precarious condition" Paul Maeder has been ince- presidnit (finance and operations) since 1972. "Brown Universih/ is fncing grave financial problems. The facts are stark, a bit frighten- ing, and very real. The realization that all of higher education today is being confronted by the same stvere financial problems is small comfort and does nothing to lessen the seriousness of the situation at Brown, where eight straight budget deficits are a matter of record." That was the way Associate Editor Jay Barn/ began his ston/ in the October BAM about the Brown Fund's challenge grant. The paragraph may have been startling to many of our readers, but the financial crisis is real. It is the main topic of conversation wherei'er faculh/ and administrators gather, as preparation begins on the 1975-76 budg- et — a budget which will reflect more sharply than any preinous one the reahties of the Universih/'s "precarious condition." To put the University's financial situa- tion in perspective, the BAM' s editors asked Paul F. Maeder, Broion's vice-president for finance and operations, to write about some technical aspects of the crisis. His report be- gins on this page. In future issues, the BAM «'i7/ report on the Universih/'s efforts to solve its financial problems. In the I'^SS fiscal \-ear, Brown spent S5.2 million for education and gen- eral expenditures and $2.5 million for its auxiliary activities, which consist primarih' of the housing and dining op- erations. B\' the 1973 fiscal \'ear, educa- tional expenditures had increased nearh' eightfold to $40.2 million, and the auxiliary activities budget had tri- pled to $7.4 million. This illustrates how \'astl\' more sophisticated — and there- fore more expensive — educational en- terprises have become. Education does not lend itself to the kintis of increases in productivit\- that are possible in hous- ing and dining, or in manufacturing. In 1955 the market value of the University's endowment was $25 mil- lion. B\- 1973 this had grown, through gains in investments and additions from philanthropy, to $105 million. Thus the market value of the endowment multi- plied four times during a penod in which the educational and general ex- penditures of the University multiplied eight times. Since June 1973, inflation, the greatly increased cost of energy, and adverse market conditions have led to considerable deterioration of an alread\' precarious financial condition. In 195S income from endowment contributed slightU' less than $1 million to the expenditures of the University. In 1973, income and the withdrawal of previous capital gains, as well as some withdrawals of capital from quasi- endowment to cover the deficit, con- tributed $7.5 million toward the expen- ditures of the University. If measured against the market value of the endow- ment, this corresponds to an application of 3.6 percent in 1955 and of 7.2 percent in 1973. The latter figure is much too high to be sustained over long periods of time under foreseeable economic conditions; a figure of between 4 and 4.5 percent appears more acceptable. Based on this conclusion, there is a gap between income and expenditures of approximately $3 million per year. This gap must be closed in the near fu- ture through reductions in expendi- tures, increases in income from sources other than endowment, or through large additions to the endowment itself. The last option, one of the recommen- dations of the Corporation's Committee on Plans and Resources, now appears unrealistic until such time as the economic conditions in the country im- prove significantly. So the University's efforts toward reduction of expendi- tures and increases in income from stu- dents fees, and particularly in annual giving from its friends and alumni, must continue and intensify. V\Tiile this picture of the Univer- sity's financial condition indicates that the patient is not feeling well — and in fact has a monumental head- ache and is running a temperature — it does not present a diagnosis and does not prescribe the remedies. Further tests must be made, analyses performed, and the history must be taken. The text beginning on the next page, together with the accompanying charts, attempts to do that. TOTAL RESOURCES (Expenditures) Excluding Housing RESOURCES UTILIZED (Excluding Housing and Dining), since 1955 FIG -A MILLIONS OF DOLLARS ~ o ^^^^t■'-^\ ^ ' > ENDOWMENT'/! FROM UNRESTRICTED GIFTS aJ \\ ^'' / \ W/ r^ /^ A U-^ / VV^ jT^y^ J / ^iMfj \ 1 V FROM NRESTRICTED BEQUESTS i^^i X bz^:^ 1 1 1 1 Mil \ \ \ \ MM FISCAL YEAR 1955 1960 1965 1970 1975 The use tlie Universit\- has made of its various financial resources to cover its expenditures o\'er the past two decades is illustrated in Figures lA, IB, and IC above. The top curve inciicates the educational and general expenL^i- tures of the Universitv, which increased at an almost constant rate of 12.6 per- cent per vear from 1955 to 1971. At that time (1971), which also marked the end of the student imrest period, private in- stitutions generalh' acknowledged a worsening financial condition and con- centrated their full attention on the problem. Since I07I, expenditures at Brow n ha\e been increasing at the rate of 4.9 percent, considerablv below the recent intlationarv rate of the general economw Maintaining such a low rate of growth or even further tlecreasing it will obvioush' cause considerable inter- nal difficulties. The next cune (Figure IB) is the one depicting the income from stu- dents' fees. The total income from thi^ source shows an almost constant rate vt growth o\er the past two decades. It increased more slo\vl\- than the Uni- versitv's expenditures until 1971 and increased more rapidh than the total expenditures thereafter. The Universitv's income from sponsored research and restricted gift--, which is largeK' made up of grants and contracts b\' the federal government for research and education (the third line m Figure IB) shows a ver\' rapid increa^t until 1962. In this period Brown de- veloped its facult\' and introduced man\ new educational and research programs. Starting in 1962, this source of income still increased at a rate greati 1 than the total expenditures of the Uni \'ersit\ , but at a rate considerabh' les-- than that of the previous period. In I'-'tC growth of this resource, in effect, ended. The Vietnam War and a \er\ marked change in the attitude of the federal go\ernment towards higher education eliminated anv further growth in this source of funds, not e\en to compensate for cost increases in the general economv. Until about 1965, the Universit\- had been making minimal demands on its endowment, saving a great deal of this resource for a rainv da\'. However in the period from 1965 to 1971, Brow n drew on this resource at a rapidh' in- creasing rate. Since 1971, the situation has stabilized, but at a le\'el which is much too high if one takes into account the present economic outlook. So, from 1965 to 1971, the endow- ment was asked to absorb the shock ot dw indling re\enues from federal sources, while thereafter sizable reduc- tions in expenditures started to estab- lish a new balance. The lowest curve (Figure IC) show s the income derived from unrestricted gifts. The Brown Fund annual gi\'ing is b\- far the largest component of this source of re\"enue. But this income has been growing at a lower rate than an\ of the other components over the last tw o decades. The dotted cur\e in (Figure IB) in- dicates the growth of the student bod\ including both undergraduate and graduate students. In the period before 1965, most of this growth occurred in an expansion of the Graduate School; since then, the number of graduate students essentiallv held constant while the number of undergraduates grew more rapidlw Much of this latter increase was due to larger numbers of undergraduate women students, since female undergraduate enroll- ment doubled in the last twent\- years. Since in the past two decades the ' total number of students at Brown approximately doubled, amounting to an annual increase of 3.6 percent per \ear, it is important to anahze the financial resources the Uni\'ersity utilized for its educational programs on a per-student basis (Figures 2A, 2B, and 2C at right). The unit cost of education defined in this manner increased mark- edl\- until 1971 and then held constant. This has been accomplished b\' a reduc- tion in growth of expenditures, as well as b\' an increase in the size of the stu- dent bod\'. Tuition increased more in the first and the last five-vear period, while it in- creased considerabh' less in the middle decade, hi the first five-\ear period. Brown increased its tuition more rapidly in order to make it ec|ual to the charges of other institutions of comparable qual- ity, hi the last fiye-\ear period, the Uni- versit\' increased its tuition more rap- idl\-, as did other private institutions, to compensate for inflation and decreasing contributions from the government. In recent years the Universit\' has been successful in reducing the amount it had to take from endo\vment on a per-student basis. Since all costs in our economx' ha\e been increasing in the period discussed here, how do the increases in revenues compare on a per-student basis with the general cost increases in the economy? As 1 have pointed out before, educa- tional enterprises lend themselves con- siderabh' less to productivity improve- ments than many other activities in our societw Productivit\' increases are largely achieved through the use of Imore sophisticated materials, methods, and technologies. These, in turn, often have their roots in education and par- ticularh' in inventions and ideas which spring from the minds a liberal educa- tion is designed to prepare. It can be ar- gued then that societ\- should devote a constant fractic^n of its income to educa- tion and that educahonal expenditures should not be compared to, say, the cost of ccmsumer goods, but to family in- come. The top line in Figure 2A indicates the median family income in the United States for the past two decades. RESOURCES UTILIZED PER STUDENT AND MEDIAN U.S. FAMILY INCOME MEDIAN U.S. FAMILY INCOME TOTAL, RESOURCES (Cost of Education) PER STUDENT Excluding Room and Board ^^'' y^ '^^ / / y . — . ""^ /^^ ...--'''^ ^•^3 9, ^S^ $10,500 $9,500 $8,500 $7,500 $6,500 $5,500 $4,500 $3,500 $2,500 $1 ,500 FROM ENDOWMENT FROM UNRESTRICTED GIFTS $160 $140 $120 $100 $80 $60 $40 FISCAL YEAR 1955 1960 1965 1970 1975 Figures 3A, 3B, and 3C (next page) show the per-student revenues and costs as a percentage of the median U.S. famih' income. In terms of this measure, the total cost of education per student increased markedh' in the first decade, while it held constant in the second decade and has recently been reduced some\shat. The income derived from tuition and other fees increased initially but has held essentially firm since 1960. The sharp decline in funds from federal sources since 1967, if looked at in this context, is very discouraging. The rapid increase in the use of endowment funds and the endowment's recent decline as a result of the efforts made since 1970 also become ver\- apparent. The con- tribution made from unrestricted gifts on a per-student basis, measured against the family income, has been lower in recent years than at any time since 1961, when annual giving was suspended because of a capital cam- paign. Charts by CONSTANCE MUSSELLS 9 TOTAL RESOURCES (Cost of Education i Excluding Room and Board RESOURCES PER STUDENl AS PERCENT OF MEDIAN U.S. FAMILY LNCOME FROM FEES FROM _ ENDOWMENT V -^Tw M\ FROM UNRESTRICTED GIFTS FISCAL YEAR 1955 2,?'o 2°/o 18% 1 e='o 1.4% 1.2% 1~'o 8% 6% As illustrated in Figure 4A (opposite), X^ Brown's endowment showed an average growth of 8.76 percent per year for the period 1955-1973. Recent eco- nomic conditions have resulted in a sizable drop of the endowment market value for 1973 and again for 1974, for which final figures are not yet available. But further decreases can be expected. Over the full period indicated in the diagram, the value of an endowment share has increased by about 4 percent per year, or slightly more than the Dow Jones average. The difference in growth between total endowment and endow- ment shares was made up b\' additions to endowment from gifts amounting to approximateh' 4.5 percent per vear. One large addition which resulted in an increase of the endowment while the share value actually decreased occurred in 1969 and was due to large capital gains realized from holdings in a com- pany which was sold and which had not previously been included in the con- solidated endowment. In the period since 1970, endowment increased pro- portionately less than its share value, because of heav\' withdrawals for ac- quisition of other assets, such as the Bryant Campus (now the East Campus of the University), the Science Library, and some other modern buildings, as well as ivithdrawals of previously earned capital gains from quasi-en- dowment to tinance the operations of the University. Before the late 1960s, share \alues of our endowment increased at a ■^li^litK loxxer rate than the Dow Jones aveiage Since then. the\' have out- pertoriiied the Dow Jones average Mgnificantlv . It is still too earK to assess the detailed effects of the coiintr\'s rapidh deteriorating economic condi- tion, but suffice it to say that, as a result, our problem will be more complicated and more severe than anticipated a year or two ago. The dotted line in Figure 4B indi- cates the market value of the endow- ment on a per-student basis (again, total number of students, Lmdergraduate and graduate) in terms of the median U. S. family income. It is a measure of how much help a famih' sending its son or daughter to Brown can expect, in terms of its own income, from the endow ment to help carry the cost of education. The recent precipitous decrease of this amount is due to three factors, all unfor- tunateK' acting in concert: Brown has increased its number of students, inflation has rapidh increased family income (and expenditures even more so), and endowment has decreased be- cause of market conditions and with- drawals to meet previous years' expen- ditures. The Corporation's Committee on Plans and Resources dealt exten- sively with this problem in its report (BAM, March). The Corporation has taken action regarding the first factor b\- specifying a ceiling on undergraduate enrollments. Intlation and market con- ditions are obviously beyond oLir con- trol and must be compensated for through reducticms of expenditures and the development of alternate sources of ■ income, relieving the demands made on ] the endowment. A report by a financial vice-presi- dent of a university in times of financial stress carries, quite naturalK some bias. After all, an institution which has as its goal education that w ill bet- ter enable our voung people to fulfill the dreams of our society deals with man\ other resources which are not captured on a balance sheet. Let me tr\' to correct this bias as well as 1 can. The faculty which is developed through application of imaginative goals and financial resources; the repu- tation of the institution w hich is de- 10 ENDOWMENT GROWTH JUNE 30, 1955 TO 1973 ENDOWMENT IN MILLIONS (Market Value) .j^ ■"""^ y f y y^^ y^--^ /^ 150 140 130 120 110 100 90 80 70 60 50 40 30 20 DOW JONES IND AVG. IN HUNDREDS ENDOWMENT PER STUDENT IN MULTIPLES OF MEDIAN U.S. FAMILY INCOME FISCAL YEAR 1955 1970 veloped through the facult\''s educa- tional and research programs; the pool hof young men and women who wish to attend Brown as a result of this reputa- tion; the increased number of alumni and friends resulting from the increased number of students attending the in- [istitution; the growth and improvement of the physical plant which helps create an environment in which the commun- ity can work and live in harmon\' — I these are all resources of the institution. I If the financial resources are spent wisely, the\' should renew themselves through this chain of wealth passing from one competent of the University to ] the next. As society changes, the in- stitution, adapting itself to its demands, will emphasize different areas of de- velopment. In looking over the timespan de- scribed in this article, it appears to me that three distinct periods can be identified. The first is the period of academic development from 1955 to 1962. Build- ing on a strong academic base which had been created in previous years, the University used federal funds as well as foundation funds available in ever in- creasing amounts to develop the faculty to a level of scholarship not previously attained by this institution. The young and vigorous facult\- assembled during this time created new mstructional and research programs in oid and new dis- ciplines. This, m tum. started to lay the foundation for Brown's reputation as one of the foremost universities in the country The greatl\- increased fertilit\- rates since World War 11, often referred to as thi' postwar babv boom, were still in full swing and created the impression that there would be ever increasing numbers of yoimg men and women who would go to college. Brown's repu- tation grew rapidly and our applicant pool expanded. Forgcitten were the years when Brown kept its admissions office open into the summer in order to assemble the freshman class. The second time period might be called the \ears of questioning from 1963 to 1971. During those wars the ever increasing numbers of students questioned every rule and value that had been established in the past. It started with the parietal rules and ended with Kent State and the student strike in the spring of 1970. Almost un- noticed by many, but not by university administrations, federal support of in- stitutions such as Brown le\'eled off at first and then declined in real terms. University faculties and administra- tions, caught unprepared, eventually learned to cope with the situation At Brown the facult\' respondeti with the curriculum of 1969, \yhich undoubtedK' contributes greatly to the present popu- larit\- of this University among \oung people and is certainh' one oi the reasons that Brown has the largest ap- plicant pool in the Ivv League. The third time span is the period of stabilization, which began in 1971 and continues today. As the upheavals of the sixties sub- sided, the University found itself with badly depleted financial resources. Ho\yever, on the assets side, it now has an excellent facult\' and a reputation which attracts large numbers of the most able and promising stLidents. It has over the \'ears given an excellent Start in life to increasing numbers of students, now our alumni and alumnae. There remains the difficult task of establishing a new fiscal balance for the University. The task, simply put, is to contain expenditures, to draw on other resources, to replenish gradually our endowment, and to do this without damaging Brown's vigor and promise. 11 the Charter Twelve ''We aren't the typical medical graduates of our time" Text in/ Saiidrci Reeves Photographed by Hugh Sim/ser One dozen new doctors who were educated at Brown University were added to America's physician manpower this fall. Thev are not stereotypes. They are the products of a program that is not only new, but is also, to use a twentieth century cliche, innovative. Judging from their personalities, which include interests that range from motorcycles to macrame and career goals that show a heaw prefer- ence for doctoring the doctorless, it is a program that allows the development of personal and social aware- ness, as well as scientific skill. These twelve new physicians do not have an en- tirely official "Dr." prefix before their names. That will await Commencement ceremonies on the morning c>f June 2, 1975, when thev will recite the Hippocratic Oath with fort\'-eight other Brown medical graduates. But these students are special, and they have finished the course at Brown and now meet all the legal re- cquirements for beginning their internships. The twelve students began the quest for a Brown M.D. almost eight years ago, but they say they "never dreamed" thev would end up spending eight years in Providence. They intended to complete their basic medical science courses and then transfer to the third year of other medical schools. They were then Brown freshmen enrolled in the six-year master of medical science degree program begun in 1963. (Two of the group transferred into the M.M.S. program.) About mid -stream, they heard the not-so-faint rumblings about the possible expansion to a full medical school, but until almost the last possible minute, they were uncertain how this would affect them. As one of the students, Mike Shafer, recalls, "A lot of people, in- cluding myself, were in a constant state of anxiety try- ing to decide what to do — whether to make plans to transfer or to wait around and see whether we'd be able to complete our degree here." They were, of course, able to stay at Brown, but it took some collective bargaining on their part. As Brent Davis explains it, "What we had to do was create the program." The twelve went, in April 1972, to see Vice-President for Biomedical Sciences Pierre Galletti to determine the status of the Brown medical school. 12 "He was tremendous to us," says Ed Collins. "He dis- cussed all the possibilities, presented all the contin- gencies to us in his ver\' precise and methodical way, and then told us to come back in the fall." By the fall, the decision for Brown to move toward a full-scale medical curriculum by adding the clinical years was a fait accompli. (Traditionally, the last two years of medi- cal school involve supervised patient care in a hospital sethng. They are divided into sections in several spe- cific medical areas, called clinical clerkships, which each run from eight to twelve weeks.) What remained then was a decision on the twelve students in question. Officialh , the clinical training was set to begin with the class immediately following these twelve. A bargain was struck. The clerksliips would begin six months ahead of schedule, enabling the twelve to go into their third year of medical school in lieu of completing their master's theses for the M.M.S. degree and to remain at Brown for their M.D. degree. In turn, the twelve would serve as educahonal guinea pigs, testing the clerkship training as a group before the larger group began the clinical program. They started their surgical clerkship on January 29, 1973; it was followed about thirteen weeks later by a clerkship in medicine, and the Brown medical school was on its way. In August, the twelve experimental students were joined by thirty-six students from the next class and an additional twelve students accepted as transfers from other medical schools. Thus, the sixty-member class of 1975 was formed by the fusion of three groups — one of which was twenty-four weeks ahead of schedule. For whatever trials and tribulations that latter group endured in the testing process, it earned a place in the record books, as well as the affec- tionate sobriquet in biomedical circles on campus of The Charter Twelve. To hear the Charter Twelve tell it, however, there were few trials and some big plusses in this business of: guinea-pigging. Brent Davis describes the situation of having a city-wide clinical teaching staff practically at one's disposal as almost apprentice-like: "The best thing about it was that we were all interested in leam ing, and the other people had never had medical stu- dents around. What we had to learn was what they were doing; and they hadn't had the opportunity yet to become contemptuous, or bored, or to know what we weren't allowed to do. We had a pretty free hand to learn. It was an ideal situation." To Bob Meyer, the '. newness also meant that "we paid more attention to the kind of teaching in the program because we knew it was brand-new and there might be some shortcom- ings. We kept our eyes open. We were aware of what we were and were not being taught; whereas, at an es- tablished medical school that's been ticking along for- twenty years or more, you would tend to fall into the mold of the place instead of questioning." All of the students say they were impressed by the level of enthusiasm and by the concern shown them b' Ed Colliitf ai}d Dean Effler. Bob Meyer. Tom Logan. the clinical teaching staff. In fact, the situation some- times got downright embarrassing, as Ed Collins quips: "We were a novelty to the facult}'. They went overboard. Hog wild. Sometimes we were interro- gated to death. 'Is ever)'thing all right?' It really got to the point that sometimes our biggest objection was, 'Will you please stop asking us c]uestions?' " Going through a unique experience as a small, close-knit group has brought about a "togetherness" — a sense of cooperation and camaraderie — that is obvious and is unusual in light of the tense, competi- tive atniosphere of most medical schools. Size made a difference, according to Dean Effler. "There were no cliques," he says. "I think we reallv learned to enjoy and appreciate each other." To Dan Small, the con- geniality was a by-product of the temperaments in- volved. "The type of person who wants a ver\' high- pressured, competitive place wouldn't seek out a new, insecure program," he says. "We didn't attract that kind of people." Of course, there was the added factor of being twelve lone pioneers, or as Ed Collins put it, "We ended up doing everything together. We did all our clerkships together . . . and we sta\'ed together forever in that damn room 119 of the biomedical sci- ences building." Despite the unusual circumstances. Dr. Stanley Aronson, dean of medical affairs at Brown, feels that the Charter Twelve "exemplify the kind of medical student that the Brown medical program is going to at- tract." He says they "are typical, and yet they are not typical." The group is decidedly atypical, he is quick to note, in its all-male make-up. Dr. Aronson is a soft-spoken, articulate man who seems to have organized both thought and inflection before he speaks. When he is describing the Charter Twelve, however, he lets vocabulary flow freelv and comes ever so close to excess, or so it would seem at first hearing. The Charter Twelve are "highlv indi- vidualistic, socially conscious students." Thev are "twelve very bright, assertive people with a remark- able diversity of skills." Thev are "intensely alive." In commenting on each student individually. Dr. Aron- son dots his sentences with such adjectives as "ma- ture," "responsible," "talented," and "compassion- ate." He concludes with, "To me, there is a splendid stature there. I'm proud that these are Brown stu- dents." It sounds ver\' good. And, in the studied opinion of the BAM, which spent a couple of weeks talking with various and sundry Charter Twelvers, it sounds pretty accurate. The following pages include word and photo sketches of a few members of this group — sketches which mav shed a little light on the type of medical graduate Brown will produce. If there is a Charter Twelve consensus on the per- sonal meaning of being "first," it is hard to pin down. Most seem to agree with John Horneff, who says sim- ply, "I think I'd have to have more distance from it." 13 the Charter Twelve coritiiiUL'il On the other hand, when thev look through what Ed Collins called "that great big scientific instrument, the retrospectoscope," thev come up with some incisive footnotes on this one-of-a-kind educational experi- ence: "We didn't have anvbodv above us to influence us, or to mold us, or to show us what medical students were supposed to look like or do. We all grew up with our own personalities." — Jim Lynch. "We were able to relax and enjo\' life more than 1 think is usual at medical schools. . . . Oirr program al- lowed us to pursue more human interests, and at the ■ same time turn out to be v\hat I hope are fairly decent doctors." — Tom Logan. "There's something funn\' about our class. I don't know what the balance between the external and in- ternal factors is, but it has always seemed our class \\ as not nonnal — not the average." — Mike Shafer. "Fiftv years from now, evervone will be looking back to see what the first class was like. If nothing else, I think the\' can sa\' that we were tweh'e individuals who weren't the tvpical medical graduates of our time." — John Horneff. 14 /,i/;;; H, Looking through that big scientific instrument, the retrospectoscope," at Charter Twelve Effler: Family doctor Dean Effler is a Brown Phi Beta Cappa who wears bow ties, likes laroque music, and enjo\s a good wine, f he achieves his career objecti\e, in bout three years he will be a small- own family doctor somewhere in rural \merica. "1 think there is a real need for .omeone w,ho can take care of the whole amily," Dean says, "someone who can ■>rchestrate medical care for ever\'one rem the little kid who's just been born o granddad. Nowadays, it's so frag- nented. You have to go to one doctor or one organ, to another doctor for mother organ; and the\- usualK' never alk to each other. What's in between doesn't get taken care of " The decision to take his brand of amily medicine to a rural setting is a lefinite one, and Dean and his wife, vlartha (Caffery '71), are checking resi- lency prcigrams carefullv. "I'm looking or a certain lifestyle, " he savs. Since nore than half of all doctors end up ■'racticing in the area in which the\- take heir residencies, he has looked at fam- ly practice programs in rural settings in t'ermont, Virginia, North Carolina, [■Jew York, and his home state of New pse\'. One of the main reasons for seek- ng a small-town environment is "to feel 'art of the communitv." Dean and 'lartha are communitv-minded and ight now, among other things, they are awfully involved" in a little church in he Fox Point area. "It's ver\' important 3 us, not just because it's a church, but ecause it's a part of the place where we ve," thev sav. But there's another reason for the ■reference: nature. The Efflers back- ack, canoe, and hike, and thev've iken up such hobbies as cross-country Mike Shafer (center) intently watches another physician check a patient. 15 skiing. Dean has also become interested in wild plants and is fond of quoting the nature-stalking Euell Gibbons. "There's something about knowing which plant is which and what each can be used for," he says. "It makes my hiking so different. I always enjoyed it, but now I feel as if I meet a new friend every time I turn a corner." An earnest, shy-looking fellow with a boyish grin. Dean Effler has some regrets. For one thing, he missed a few humanities courses that he wanted to take. For another, he often wanted to be challenged more. The clin- ical program was amiable and friendly, he says, "but 1 think there is a place in education for putting people on the spot." Collins: "rm alive" For the witty and gregarious Ed Collins, life has been a series of timely opportunities well exercised. "I've al- ways been a person who stepped through the open door," he says. One of those open doors was the chance to transfer into Brown's M.M.S. program after graduation from the State Univer- sity of New York at Albany. His life was "a little ambivalent" at the time, as a biology major heavily into research, and the move turned out to be of more significance than he'd imagined. "Gee, I was a lucky son of a gun," he says ef- fusively. "I could have wound up pok- ing shark neurons the rest of my life." Now he wants the rest of his life to be spent as a family practitioner. He was very active in getting family prac- tice organized on the Bro\vn campus (BAM, October). In fact, he says he was "the campus mouth for famil\' med- icine." He serveci as a student represen- tative on the faculty committee that studied the establishment of a residency program in the field, but "through no good reason, really," he is scouting out residency programs elsewhere — look- ing particularly in his home state of New York and in other sections of the Northeast and the middle Atlantic states. Ed is perhaps the only medical stu- dent at Brown who can claim mem- bership in Alpha Phi Gamma. His certificate hangs in his home next to a similar one for Beta Beta Beta, the na- tional biology honorary. Alpha Phi Gamma, however, is a journalism hon- orary. He v\on membership in it as a by-product of that collegiate "ambiva- 16 lence" that resulted in both a publica- tion in [he American Journal of Physiology and a career as a campus disc jockey. He has always had a flair for the spoken word. In a required speech course at SUNY in Albany, he recalls, "everyone hated me because each time I finished a speech before the class, the professor would turn and say, 'Now that's a hard act to follow.' " His disc- jockeying talents led to a post as pro- gram director of the campus radio sta- tion, but there came a time when he had to hang up his earphones. "The music changed from the Top Fort\' type to the real heavy rock," he says resignedlw "There was a mini generation gap, so 1 said, 'Well, rather than having head- aches, I'll take my tinkering talents to the laboratoiy.' I did, and I made out real well." He has made out real well with his tinkering talents on the home front, too. "I pride myself on getting thirty-five miles to the gallon in my Vega on the road," he boasts. If he's not working on his car, he can usually be seen toting a tool box up to the make-shift workshop in the apartment he shares with his German-born wife. He is fond of "play- ing around with electronics" and says quite frankly, "1 do anything and every- thing." Of his medical career at Brown, Ed is characteristically full of enthusiasm: "It's been work — hard work. But there've been good times, too. You take a step back and you say, 'I'm alive, ... Evervthing was exciting. Ever\'thing. All the boredom that a fifty-\ear-old practitioner could have was exciting to me." Davis: Inner peace At first glance. Brent Davis looks like anything but a doctor. His hair is long and tied neativ at the nape of the neck. He has a mustache anci tapering sideburns that lead into the faint hint of a goatee. He seems to have a casual lifestyle and talks about meditation and the need for inner peace. The impres- sions are somewhat deceptive. In addition to this peaceful, intro- spective bent. Brent Davis has a razor- sharp perception of what medicine is and should be, and he doesn't hedge his opinions on the subject. He wants to be a family doctor, he says, but he has some definite ideas about what that means. "To me, the idea of the famih' doctor taking care of ever}' problem -fUPP""*^^ '^ ^w I Stiuirt Boe (center, with glasses) works as part of a surgical team. 17 from birth to death is a bogus concept," he begins. "The problem with family medicine, as I see it, is that the training programs in the field teach you a little medicine, a little surgery, a little pediat- rics, a little gynecology, and so on. I'm not convinced that you end up doing any of them well. "In my opinion, a pediatrician should take care of children because children and adults are different ani- mals. Thev have different diseases and a different physiology. They're not even close to the same." For that reason. Brent plans to set up "a kind of family practice," which will exclude children, but will handle most ever\'thing else for those patients past the childhood- adolescent problems. An exception will be surgery. He wants to do only what he does well, and he says, "Frankly, I would not want to be my patient in surgery." An Oklahoman by birth. Brent came to Brown mainly because it was the only school he applied to that al- lowed a student to graduate without taking either political science or social sciences — two subjects for which he had little interest or admiration. He and his wife like Rhode Island and are likely to stay in the area after he completes his advanced training. A vegetarian and a lover of plants ("They are a great source of inspiration, quiet, and calm"). Brent has begun to dabble in Sanskrit, the ancient Hindu language, as part of his study of Gnosti- cism. "I'm very interested in the under- lying concepts of religion," he explains. "Gnosticism is the body of knowledge that is thought to form the core of most religious sects." Lynch: Baseball lost As a child, Jim Lynch had his sights set on a career as a baseball player and a doctor. Bobby Brown, the former New York Yankees star, was both physician and ballplayer, and although Jim didn't particularly idolize Brown, he thought the combination sounded ideal. The baseball "sort of fell by the wayside" once he was a freshman at Brown and spent four hours a day in the laboratory. "But being a doctor is just as good," he concedes with a grin. Born into an Air Force family which lived in many places around the United States before settling in New Canaan, Connecticut, Jim is interested in a small medical sub-specialty that only pro- 18 tting dcrwn for a moment. Dan Small studies an X-ray. 19 duces about twentv-two graduates a year nationally. He wants to be a pediatric surgeon. "I like kids," Jim savs. "I like 'Sesame Street' and watching cartoons, and things like that. Kids are nice to work with, and thev have a greater longevity than most patients. I didn't want to be a pediatrician; I liked sur- gery, and fortunately, there were peo- ple in the field during m\' training whose personalities helped direct me to pediatric surgery." His plans also include an academic affiliation of some sort, because pediat- ric surgery is usually centered in uni- versity-affiliated hospitals whose pa- tient load can support the specialty. After he completes a five-year resiliency in general surgery, he hopes to have a two-year fellowship in pediatric sur- gery. He has applied to about seven or eight residency programs, one of which is in Providence. To Medical Affairs Dean Stanley Aronson, Jim exemplifies something verv' special in a good doctor — "extra- ordinary gentility and compassion." His extracurricular activities are partial tes- tament to this trait. He has worked at cerebral palsy clinics in the area and has done a lot of work in student counsel- ing. He also authored the book on med- ical careers at Brown for the premedical societ\'. Apart from medicine, Jim's inter- ests include what he calls "the gentle- men's sports" — sailing, swimming, skiing, bicycling, and jogging. He also plays the guitar, loves folk music, and has been known to accompany mass at Manning Chapel from time to time. Shafer: Charter playboy Mike Shafer is a class\' dresser, a charming conversationalist, anci, ac- cording to his roommate, better known as the Charter Twelve playboy. The title befits a man who plays jazz saxophone and has spent a sizeable part of his life swinging in three or four bands at any one time. But the saxophone, the clarinet (which he also plays), and the dating interests haven't interfered with the Rochester, New York, native's med- ical career, which is headed toward a three-year residenc\ in internal medicine. One of the founders of the Brown Stage Band and a member of such di- verse campus musical groups as the wind ensemble, the hocke\' band, and the football band, Mike has just re- turned from a month's excursion to the West Coast, where he visited medical centers in San Diego, San Francisco, and Seattle, and "camped in e\'erv na- tional park I could get near." He says his biggest problem now is deciding whether to move west for his residency or to stay in this area. He's a little more certain about what he wants to do after his postgraduate education. "I'm interested in primary care," he says. "1 think that the nmre specialized you get, the farther away you get from being the real primars' care physician. I'll stick with general internal medicine and go into some type of private prac- tice with an acaciemic affiliation." If he changes his mind, the two internal medicine sub-specialties that interest him most are endocrinolog\' and car- diology. "One of the major factors that shifted me back towarci primary care," he savs, was Brown's elective program in Fall River, Massachusetts, organized by Dr. David Greer, who was a pri- mary-care phssician there for seventeen years and is now associate dean of the Brown medical program. "It exposed us thoroughly to primary care, and we got totally immersed in the community as- pects of medicine," Mike says. "I found out that half of what is interesting about medicine is the opportunity to see a whole cross section of society — to re- ally get to know what people are like." Small: His wife's partner Dan Small makes no bones about it. He likes free time. "There are a lot of things outside of medicine," he savs flatly. "And although medicine is re- warding in itself, I don't think it can fulfill all the needs I ha\'e as a person. I'ti like to keep some time open for other things, too. I think I'ci like to work part-time eventually." How he intends to gain that kind of freedom as a physician is an interesting illustration of the changing times. It may sound unusual to some now, but his solution may become commonplace in the future: he is going into partner- ship with his wife. Dan's wife, Lora, is also a Brown medical student (class of 1977); if they wind up in the same field ("That is her decision; neither one of us wants to influence what the other does," Dan sa\'s), the\ may enroll to- gether as one physician in a pre-paid group health plan; or each of them might work half-time in their own prac- tice; or, the\' just might devise some other plan along the way. "We want to keep our options open," Dan savs. "Right now, we realh' don't ha\e an exact goal set." All he knows for sure is that "1 don't want to get into the rut of cJoing just one thing." Though he has the gentle, compas-. sionate expression that some people might think of as "doctor-like," Dan Small vanes slightly from the standard physician mold. As do so many of his contemporaries, he wears his hair slighth- long, and he occasionally wears a subtle but modish shirt underneath his white coat. He likes soft rock and other types of music, but what he likes best is "talking to people and learning from people." During his Brown years, he has clone research on fructose metabolism and its effects on risk factors for arte- riosclerosis. Last year, he served as a student member of the medical program's admissions committee. Born and raised on Long Island, Dan plans toj complete his residency in Providence. He and Lora may then sta\' in the area, but that, like other options, is still open. Having two medical students in thej family has meant "more work than the average couple," they say, but the\' don't talk shop at home. "We try to limit ourselves as far as medicine is con- cerned. We don't want it to become bor- ing to us." Dan found the Brown medical program to be "a ver}' human place" where "the medical student is in a spe- cial position," but he has found the first, glimpse of internship to be "a fairly de-humanizing process." There is too little sleep, too much responsibilit\', anc "you're tied to your beeper and at the beck and call of everyone." His persona views on medicine, however, lead one to believe that down deep, Dan Small knows it is all worth it: "There's no other profession in which you can make such a dent in someone else's life. That in itself is rewarciing — to have some input in other people's lives, and maybe to relieve some suffering or ease some pain — not necessarily just the physiological kind." Horneff : Research There are three chess boards and two expensive cameras (a Nikon and a Leica) that have been gathering dust in the apartment of John Horneff recently 20 They are awaiting the completion of his advanced training to be put back into action. John, who has been interested in photography since he was fourteen and who lists chess as his other passion out- side of science, is the only member of the Charter Twelve who is interested purely in the research aspects of medicine. In fact, there are times when he wonclers whether he shouldn't have 'gone into pure science." He wants to be a pathologist. His father was a pathologist and that background proba- bly colored his view of medicine, he .admits. "Way back when, 1 had this con- ception of what a physician was. I thought he was a scientist," John says. 'A physician is not a scientist." The reticent researcher, who has a rour-year growth of avocado in his liv- ng room, comes from Swarthmore, Pennsylvania, and almost enrolled in :he Penn State-Jefferson five-year med- cal degree program before learning about Brown's M.M.S. program. He A'as active in extra-curricular activities ^s a Brown undergraduate and earned a 'eputation, particularly in the medical ;3rogram, for showing up with a camera n hand to capture various events and lon-events. A.rabian: "This and that" Aram Arabian had an educational background in engineering and sLx v'ears' experience in the National Guard before coming to medical school. Now ae plans to practice internal medicine, Drobably in a group practice somewhere n southern New England. A Rhode Is- ander (raised in Cranston), he is a graduate of St. Michael's College and Boston University. His interests outside 3f medicine include "a little bit of this, a iiittle bit of that," but are primarily read- ng and sptirts. He played intramural f.iockey at Boston University and has conducted research on lipid (fat) me- 1 abolism. Von Oeyen: Neonatology The son of a minister in Harbor 3each, Michigan, Paul Von Oeyen is in- erested in religious studies as a pursuit outside of medicine. His medical in- erests have been in neonatology — the )ediatric sub-specialty that deals with etuses and newborn infants. So strong Aram Arabuui wikIics up after an operation 21 were his interests in this branch of medicine that facuh\' in the medical program encouraged him to concentrate his elective work in neonatology. They helped him structure a program leading to this specialtN' and sent him to view programs in neonatolog\- at Har\'ard and at laboratories in New York City. (The title of his master's thesis was "The Fetus as a Patient.") A student leader (he was president of the medical stu- dents organization on campus) and an acti\-e participant in communitv affairs, Paul worked with medical faculty at Brown in the establishment of clinics for genetic screening at Miriam Hospital. He has just completed a month's work at the Fetal Intensive Care Unit of the Los Angeles Count\- Hospital. Meyer: Preferring Maine Speaking slowly, softly, and delib- eratel\' as he cradles a pipe in the palm of his hand. Bob Meyer looks off in the distance and says this about his future: "I want to get into internal medicine and then head up countrs- to some place where there's not a whole bunch of in- ternists. I'll set up mv own prachce in a consulting ser\'ice with the local GPs. The place I'd reallv like to go is Maine." He sounds like a man who is pretty definite, but he is not. He still may end up in pediatrics, he says, because he loves kids. "The kind of work I'm doing now is people-oriented, but it's not like helping little kids. Sometimes I think I liked helping little kids more," Bob ad- mits as he talks about his current ex- periences in an internship at the Veter- ans AdministraHon Hospital in Provi- dence. His experiences with "little kids" began as a Brown undergraduate work- ing in the Brown Youth Guidance and the Progress for Providence programs. He later spent a semester or so at the Emma Pendleton Bradlev Hospital teaching emotionally disturbed children to play the guitar — something he says he was pretty good at in his under- graduate days. As do other members of the Char- ter Twelve, Bob Meyer has a diversity of interests outside of medicine. One of his is motorcycles, and if all goes according to plan next spring, he will buy his third cycle to replace the one stolen in his senior year and the one sold after his marriage to pay for a stereo. He likes to work with his hands, and he finds woodworking and furniture-making re- laxing. He also relaxes with science fiction, which is "like watching the car- toons on Saturday morning." He has wanted to be a doctor since he was in junior high school, and he de- cided to come to Brown for two reasons: he was enormously impressed with Biomedical Sciences Professor Frederick Barnes, and he thought the logistics of getting into medical school favored the Bro\\n concept. "A lot of people going through premed study real hard for three \-ears and then spend their fourth year looking for medical schools," he says. "So I figured, if I'm going to study real hard for three years, I might as well study real hard for six, and then per- haps have some connections for trans- ferring to a good medical school." As it tums out. Bob has ended up studying real hard for about eight years, a portion of which was spent in re- search, which he calls now "a disap- pointing experience." His three-year study of penicillin allergy, done mosth- during summer months, \ielded a pub- lication in tbelotinialofCliuicnl Rcsamii. however. Born in L\'nn, Massachusetts, Bob and his wife now live in North Attle- boro, Massachusetts, and are planning to stay there for the next several \'ears. He will complete his internship and res- idency in Providence, deciding some- where along the way whether to doctor children only, or adults, too. Boe: An outdoorsman Stuart Boe is a great outdoorsman and, perhaps because of the natural beauty of his home state of Oregon, he is particularly fond of backpacking and river rafting. He worked his way through Brown as a laborator\- techni- cian at Rhode Island and Miriam hospi- tals' emergency rooms and intensive care units and was also a reporter for the Broum Daily Herald during his un- 1. Paul Von Ocx/cu dergraduate days. He is planning a res- idency in internal medicine and may stay in the Northeast to practice, al- though the possibilities are not \'ery firm. "The Northwest is just too beauti- ful," says the Portland, Oregon native. Logan: Just like Rosey There are a couple of things in the life of Tom Logan that seem — well, in- congruous. He looks as if he could have been an athlete somewhere along the line, so one is not surprised at all when he says that he knes to watch his hometown Miami Dolphins football team in action. But then, when the con- versation turns to other leisure-time pursuits, he lists fair\' tales and em- j broiderw ' "Ever since Rose\' Grier (a former professional football pla\er and now a ! television personality) admitted that he did it, men aren't so afraid of things like embroider}'," Tom says nonchalantly. "To me, it's reallv relaxing. I don't have any talent for painting or things like that, but 1 like to do things with my hands; so 1 embroider, do macrarne, work with leather." The interest in fair\' tales is part of his Io\'e of reading. "I'm really into things like the Tolkien Tril- ogy." His medical career goals include a residency in internal medicine, after which he will probably set up a general practice in internal medicine some- where in Rhode Island, his wife's home state. The only specialty he is interested in is cardiologN', but his thoughts on specialization run to the follo\sing: "If you set up a specialty, vou are skev\'ing your outlook on medicine because vou only look at a little piece of the whole picture. Even an internist is only seeing a piece of the patient; he can't possibly take care of his patient's psychiatric problems, or if she is a woman, the gynecological problems. So, if 1 spe- cialize, it will only be for my personal interests, not to handle purely cardiol- ogy." Tom has the historical distinction of having fathered "the Charter Baby," and, frankly, the weight of the event fell heavily on his shoulders. "The rest of the group wanted me to name him Charter Logan," Tom explains. "But I thought with a name like that he \\ ould probably end up being a football player." In lieu of Charter, Tom and his wife, Judy, named their t\yo-month-old son Jeremy. 22 Lyman Kirkpatrick talks about the CIA 'In its 27 years of existence, the CIA has been accused of almost everything in the book. Some of it is true, but most of what the CIA does is unseen'' Rumors of a United States role in "destabilizing" Marxist President Salvador Allende's govern- ment in Chile were becoming louder and clearer when Lyman Kirkpatrick, a former CIA official, now a Brown professor of political science, was sched- uled to speak to incoming freshmen on "The Role of the CIA in American Life." One would have as- sumed that, while the September "issue forum" was certainJ\' going to be timely, the meeting would not be entireh' pleasant for Professor Kirkpatrick, who was to devote a portion of his time to student questions. Despite whatever mistrust or downright aversion those assembled may have had for the intelligence- gathering system, their response to Kirkpatrick him- self — a man who had plaved a role in the CIA's for- mation and had worked for it during three decades — was one of genuine and spontaneous admiration. The students listened ijitentlv to his operiing remarks — a grab bag of histor\', philosophv, and opinion — and laughed at his anecdotal glimpse into the comical side of cold-war espionage. Then the\' responded gingerly to the instruction, "Don't be afraid to ask blunt or 'dirtv' questions." When all was over, they gave him ringing and prolonged applause. Certainl\% man\' had not agreed with his assessments; but no one had ques- tioned his sincerity or his integrit\'. When Lvman Kirkpatrick speaks, whether to groups such as this or in private, he says he tries neither to "defend nor to whitewash" the CIA. While he maintains that intelligence is a necessan,' part of government — a contention some may question — he is not blind to the agency's failings or to its inherent dangers. He told his freshman-week audience, among other things, the following: "1 don't agree with interference in the internal af- fairs of another countr\'." "Classification is one of the cancers of govern- ment. It's used to hide things that shouldn't be hid- den." "The Pentagon Papers gave no aid or comfort to enemies. If an\'thing, reading them tied up a good por- tion of the Russian personnel." 23 the CIA continued "In its twenty-seven years of existence, the CIA has been accused of almost everything in the book. Some of it was true, but most of what the CIA does is unseen. I think President Kennedy was correct in saying [of the CIA], 'Your failures are magnified; your successes unseen.' Kirkpatrick is an ekiquent speaker, in a rather flowing, informal way. Whole sentences that naturalh' divide themselves into paragraphs come pouring out with ease. One is not surprised to find a journalistic bent in his background. "My legitimate career," he called it in jest with the freshmen. That career con- sisted mainly of an association with the late David Lawrence, editor and publisher of U.S. Nrios and World Rq)ort. Kirkpatrick worked for him both before and after World War II, starting in the direct mail and ad- vertising department of the old U.S. News magazine and moving on to cover labor news and, later, con- gressional news. When the war ended, Lawrence of- fered Kirkpatrick an editorship of his new magazine. World Report, which the returning wartime intelligence officer held for a year before leaving to join his fomier military boss in a new venture — the formation of America's first peacetime intelligence-gathering opera- tion. That was in 1947. The embryonic spy system was called the Central Intelligence Group then. It later be- came the Central Intelligence Agenc\', a power which few Americans are ignorant of now, although ignor- ance of its scope and substance is becoming a public and congressional confession. Kirkpatrick served the agency from 1947 to 1965, holding such positions as in- spector general and executive director-comptroller. He joined the Brown faculty in 1965, where he drew on his experience in this aspect of American foreign policy to create four unusual and highlv popular courses. The courses are "Cold War Operations," a review of Rus- sian foreign policy and the techniques used by the Russians during the Cold War, which has had as manv as 225 undergraduates a semester; "Problems in Na- tional Security," a graduate seminar examining major securit\' issues in the context of historical events such as the Bay of Pigs invasion and the war in the Middle East; "American Military Affairs," which usually at- tracts from forty- five to sixtv students for the twenty places available and uses such things as the Pentagon Papers as background for discussion; and "American Security PoIic\-," a spring lecture course dealing with America's role in the Cold War. "When I left the agency, I severed all connec- tions," Professor Kirkpatrick savs. "What I say is my own personal opinion, and I don't mind being quoted anytime on anything." Aside from being quoted faid\' often in sources ranging from the Brown Daily Herald to the Nezv York Times, he has written three books on in- telligence operations: The Real CIA, Captains Without Eyes, and his latest, published last year, Tlie U.S. Intel- ligence Community. In person, he is modest, extremelv polite, and able to put people at ease. He is verv accessible, both to students and to the public, and he generall\' doesn't hedge his comments. Perhaps one of the best assess- ments of Kirkpatrick's credibility comes from Vander- bilt University' political scientist Henrs' Howe Ransom, author of Tlie Intelligence Establishment: "Although we have some policv and judgmental disagreements on the topic. Professor Kirkpatrick is probablv the most knowledgeable person writing on the American intelli- gence agencies today." With this as background, the BAM presents the following excerpts from conversations \N'ith Brown's resident expert on a subject oi growing national con- cern. Perhaps a clue to Professor Kirkpatrick's own personal slant can be gained from one of his most prized mementoes. It is a photograph taken in 1965 when he received the award for Distinguished Federal Civilian Service and sent to him b\ President Johnson with the inscription, "To a distinguished public ser- vant." "That, to me, is the ke\'," sa\'S Kirkptrick. "Gov- ernment officials are public servants, and I believe in the necessity of public serx'ice b\ all people. That's probably what I emphasize most in m\ classes. If \'ou don't like your government, get out and change it. It's yours." I In a)] article in the New York Times, Sei/mour Hersh quotes a former liigh-lei'el official in the CIA as having said histonj will show that covert action In/ the agency was "a lib- eral idea, perhaps even an idealistic concept. " Do you agree? I don't think I'd ever characterize anybody in the CIA as having an intent that was liberal or conser\'a- , tive deliberately. Instincts perhaps, yes . . . But the i CIA's action in the covert field is detemiined more by circumstances than b\' liberalism or conservatism. I think I could say that a good portion of the CIA people in the operations field would be described as liberals. | They're for freedom for humanit\', for all the things to ■ which people aspire. But to say that this has governed CIA operations is also to ignore the fact that in most instances CIA isn't really the detemiining factor in the covert operation. It's much more the State Department that determines these things. And it's the desires of the State Department that govern whether they will be , carried out or not ... | Your average CIA operator — both in the past and in the present — is a product of American education. I would describe most products of American education as being liberals bv nature. Most products. There is a conservative element, of course. What CIA has re- cruited for (and still does) is to find the best universitx' graduates, generally v\ith advanced degrees. They are 24 hired not because they have any political leanings one wav or another, which is a subject never discussed in the inter\'ie\vs, but because they seem highly intelli- gent and willing to work. Since you played a role in the fonnation of what was to become the CIA, could you characterize the climate of thought during that formative stage and compare it to the thinking that prroails now? I sort of divide the eras of CIA. The period after World War II until the start of the Korean War is really one period in itself, and things — at least in Wash- ington — were c]uite different. Then we entered the Korean War, which was a change in attitude and ap- proach for a period of three or four years. The rest of the fifties was really more concerned with Europe, the CTisis over Berlin, and the hardening of the Cold War. I think it changed again in 1960 and 1961, with the shooting down of the U2 and, later, the Bay of Pigs. I'd almost describe that as the end of the hard Cold War. But let me go back to the question. In the forties, it was basically an attempt to build something from the remnants of what we had had during the war, with a totally new approach to a sub- ject Americans had never had to cope with before — peacetime intelligence operations. I'd be hard pressed to say that CIA really had an "attitude" then, except one of trying to get on with the job of organizing to produce intelligence that would be worthwhile. Its di- rectors then were militan,' officers, and these men were primarily organizational in nature. They were con- cerned with the apparent intransigence of the Soviet Union in most dealings, the\' were worried about whether the Soviet Union would attack in Europe and sweep to the English Channel; and obviously, as we got involved in Korea, they were concerned about that. The emphasis was much more, I think, on intelli- gence then. It wasn't until the end of the forties that men like George Kennan [former ambassador to Rus- sia], James Forrestal [first Secretary of Defense], and others decided that we had to organize the United States to engage in Cold War operations — to "fight the back- alley fight," as some described it. What they really meant by that was that we should tr\' to op- pose communist takeovers in various countries by whatever means we could. The motives behind this were, of course, such things as the Chinese Revolution and the fall of Czechoslovakia, which was quite a psychological shock in this country . . . This is that period of the so-called Cold War operations, but the United States didn't really start moving on any scale until the earh' fifties. A lot of impetus was given by the Korean War, and, then of course, this was the McCar- thy era. Senator McCarthy appeared on the scene, shr- red up the Red Scare, and saw a communist under everv' bed — certainly in ever\' government office. In 1952, the Eisenhower administrahon came to "power, and John Foster Dulles was certainly a man X "The CIA's biggest mistake is being too willing to act" who only saw white or red. [Other nations or individ- uals] were either for us or against us. All communists were against us, and anyone friendly with the com- munists was, per se, against us. That then became the dominant issue. There was an intense fight against the communists carried on by the Dulles brothers — John Foster, Secretary of State, and Allen, head of the Central Intelligence Agency — two brothers who were very, ver\' close both personally and officially. In that era, the CIA engaged in such things as the overthrow of [President Jacobo] Arbenz in Guatemala in 1953 and the overthrow of [Premier Mohammed] Mossadegh in Iran the following year, and then dab- bled in the so-called colonels' coup in Indonesia against Sukarno, building up to things like the Bay of Pigs in Cuba. By the time (Bay of Pigs), I think that we had started to grow up as far as communism is concerned. By that I don't mean communism isn't a danger; but it isn't everywhere, and communists aren't ten feet tall. I 25 the CIA contiiiueii torn line of instrumentalities would lie covert political operations. And I would say that right below that would lie militarv action. would sav that as we moved under new directorship (John McCone became director of the CIA in Novem- ber 1961), the issue was perhaps raised to a different level, but no longer did it seem necessary to mount operations everywhere it seemed possible that a gov- ernment might come under communist control. The Bay of Pigs, of course, was probably the disaster that led to a lot of this. What about Chile? I had thought, truly, that by the time the Vietnam war had endeei, we were really off this intense cold- war type of intervention. In fact, I was quoted a num- ber of times in the last couple of years as saying I didn't think the CIA was doing anything in Chile, because it seemed to me to be ver\' unwise to be doing anything. Looking at the Chilean situation, Allende was elected by the established government process of Chile. It wasn't a coup; he didn't take over, even though he had a minority of the vote. The Chilean congress legitimately and legally elected him president of Chile. We had supported the liberal-left govern- ment of Eduardo Frei. He could not succeed himself, and Allende was more attractive to more of the people than anyone else. It seemed to me that the wise thing to do was to leave it alone. What has happened now is so counterproductive. The world is never going to believe that Allende fell because the Chilean people were against him. Thev are going to believe that a pittance of CIA money over- threw him, which I think is sheer nonsense. My atti- tude and view of Chile is that Allende was trying an interesting experiment; he was having more difficulty with his own people than with the opposition, and [he] seemed to me foredoomed to failure from that alone. It was only a c]uestion of time. The Chilean armed forces had always been a very democratic anned force; at least they always considered themselves under civilian control. I didn't expect them to intervene until they felt the situation was out of hand, which I think is when they did intervene. But now you've got a military gov- ernment — and that's not usually liberal. Do you feel that coi^ert or claiuiestine operations are necessary at all, especially in an age of detente? Let's examine what covert operations really are and what they're meant to be. Any foreign policy of any nation should be baseci upon what that nation conceives to be its best interests in the world and what it's trying to achieve in the world. Having laid that out, perhaps the next step is to determine the instrumen- talities for achieving the objectives — diplomacy, economic means, military assistance, information, persuasion, and so forth. Somewhere along the bot- Then are you saying this sort of thing is extreme? I am saying that vou would not engage in covert political warfare unless it was of extreme importance tc your nation or to the friends that you thought it impor- tant to help. But then, once you contribute to anyone's political campaign, you are involved . . . In the world today, where nationalism is the strongest force by far, and where every nation, regard- less of its size and strength, wants to govern its own destiny, it seems to me that a great deal of restraint and patience has to be exercised by the United States government. We have now received a reputation in most of the world as being an interventionist govern- ment — whether it be in Greece, or Chile, or wher- ever — and I believe that this is a reputation we shoulc get away from. The covert operation is not easy to mount. If you say the wrong thing to the wrong per- son . . . you may see it in headlines the next day. So, I think that political warfare is something that we should have the capacity to engage in if necessary, but something I would not like to see brought to bear under circumstances where it might be revealed, un- less it is definitely related to national security. Let me add, of course, that 1 don't think we can talk about this totally in limbo because part of this problem was created by a congressional leak. This, in my mind, is reprehensible, because it simply means that some people, somewhere in Congress . . . de- cided they didn't like what was going on, so they let it out to the press. They have hurt national interests by this, regardless of their motivation. It seems to me thai if thev were responsible statesmen, or worked for responsible statesmen, they would be tr\'ing to get the government to stop this sort of thing by working within government channels. I don't think we can eve expect to have a successful intelligence- gathering serv ice, or to engage in political warfare successfully, or even to conduct a successful foreign policy, if the wa^ our government is going to operate is by somebod\' always revealing what it's doing. People say, "Well, open diplomacy, openly arrived at"; that's nonsense. There's never been such a thing; never will be in his- tory. Do you think that there is a public paranoia about the CIA? Of course there is; it's stimulated by this sort of thing. And the ChUean affair was, in my opinion, rather weaklv defended by the administration. 1 do no consider it a reason for us to engage in covert politica warfare just because the Russians engage in it. That's . wrong reason. I do think that it's a weapon we should have in existence in case we have to use it, but I thin! the deliberation to use it should be at the same level of 26 seriousness as the deliberation to use amied forces. It has the same impact in world affairs. Are the powers give)i the executive branch in this area too broad? Since the Watergate affair, now the Chilean affair, the reaction has been ver\' similar to previous epi- sodes. At the time of the Bay- of Pigs, there was a great uproar, with congressional hearings and full pages in the Nezc York Times. At the time the U2 was shot down in I960, the same thing. Congress has talked a lot about a joint committee. This has gone on for years. Weicker and Baker didn't introduce anything new [ref- erence is to a bill sponsored b\- Republican Senators Howard Baker of Tennessee and Lo\\'ell Weicker of Connecticut for the supervision and regulation of the CIA]. Mike Mansfield did the same thing in 1955. I think it would be ver\- difficult to legislate without so qualif\'ing the actions of the president as to make things almost ineffective. 1 think that what realh' should be worked out for the good of the nation is an agreement between the president and the Congress to consult. We wouldn't ha\-e had this flap if the congres- sional leadership had stepped up and said, "This is something we've dealt with." If i/oii could correct what i/ou consider to be tiie big- gest misconception on the part of the public about the iii- telligoice-gathering operations of the United States, what would it be? I think the biggest misconception is concern over the CIA operating in the United States. It has, of course, things that it does in the United States as a basis for things it does abroad, the \ational Students Association being an example from the past. What the CIA subsidized that organization to achieve was the abilit\' to send students abroad to \outh and student meetings, so that there would be a non-communist point of view represented. The subsid\' started in the fifties — the intense anti-communist period . . . B\' the time thaiRamparts made its re\'elation (1967), the ageof the subsid\' was prett\' well over, but like an\'thing that is subsiciized, \'SA wasn't urging that its subsidy be cut off. It was cut off, however, like a lot of other things that were subsidized for the same reason — to pose an anti-ccTmmunist \iewpoint which was not hard right but more a liberal interpretation. Com- munists just don't pa\' an\' attention to the hard right. The\' are much more concerned about things that are proposing a similar t\pe of progressive program. Do comtnunists worn/ more, then, about socialists than tiny do about conseroa fives? That's exacth- right. Socialism has appeals that take people awav from them. I think this is ver\' clear in the Allende regime in Chile — not just the socialists, but fringes of the Christian Democrats were more lib- eral than the Communist Partv. And in Italv, for example, ever since the Bolshevik revolution, the Ital- ian communists ha\'e been tr\'ing to work out some way to be accepted b\- the socialists in Itah' ... If vou put up some sort of extreme conservative against a communist the vote is fragmented on either extreme. If you put up someone with liberal tendencies, as hap- pens in almost ever\- French election, the\''re placed in the dilemma of having equal appeal. Today, when most communist parties have renounced open revolu- tion, this situation poses a real threat to them. You have said that Russia is our main threat i)i the -world. Where does China fit in? Russia is the onh' conceivable militarx' threat. Frankly, as I see China building its defense forces and gradually becoming more powerful, it's all built on Russia. They're concerned about Russia. I can't imag- ine an armed conflict with China because 1 don't think they want to cross the Pacific to attack us, or vice versa. Tliere seems to be a rash of books out lately by former CIA agents and officials which have a critical, disillusioned tone. What is your feeling about theagena/, with the benefit of six years of reflection? The CIA is a necessar\' organization, and I rather shudder to think what might have happened if we hadn't had it, especialK- during the intense period of Russian-American hostilit\- following Worki War II. We were close to the brink of war over Berlin, ver\' close to war over Cuba in 1962, and near the brink of war over the Middle East in 1973 ... I think the CIA has a proper place in government, and I frankl\- think it has done some ver\' good things. It has to be tightly controlled. There's no doubt about the potential dan- ger of misuse of an intelligence gathering agenc\'. We saw it in Watergate. What about Watergate? 1 was appalled b\- the domestic "plumbers unit." It was literalh' a political police unit against the oppo- nents of the regime. It smacked to me of Nazi Ger- man\' and of Russia, and of ever\'thing I've been con- ditioned to dislike. 1 was appalled b\' the attempt on the part of the President's assistants to tr\' to use CIA to cover up the Watergate mess. This to me indicates such an abhorrent lack of knowledge about what our government, our people, and oirr narion stand for that I have absoluteh' no respect and no consideration for those people. The CIA, by its ver\' character, is a highly disci- plined organization — ven,' highh' disciplined. The reason for that is ver\' clear. If \'ou cio not control things ver\- tighth' in Washington, both financially and operationalh', then \'ou're almost at the mercy of your own people if the\' decide the\' want to do something. It is required that no CIA man, no matter where he is, will tr\' to get in touch with, or cultivate, or try to re- 27 the CIA continued cruitanvbodv unless Washington approves it. There is also discipline in the whole business of handling clas- sified infomiation. You learn from the start — if vou want to stay employed — that you keep your papers turned over, that vou put classified papers in a safe at night and lock it . . . You become very disciplined. It isn't very pleasant; lots of people writhe under the se- crecy, and I agree with them. It isn't very pleasant to go home and be unable to talk about what you've done during the day. You acquire a reputation for doing something sinister, even though it may be nothing more sinister than looking at the grain production in the Ukraine ... A part of this kind of discipline has meant that it has been imbueci in CIA people that they do not engage in politics domestically. What loas the atmosphere at the ageiuy ditrvig the MeCarth\/ years? When the McCarthy underground was active, there was a hideous atmosphere in Washington gener- ally. They would call wives and say, "Your husband is fotiling around with another woman," or perhaps tr\' to blackmail an employee with a family drinking prob- lem. "We won't tell anyone if you wiU work for us" — this sort of thing. I saw it all because I was then inspec- tor general of the CIA, and people would come in and ask me what to do . . . Allen Dulles — I wUl say this for him — was very strong against McCarthy compared to his brother. Allen would not allow McCarthy people near the CIA, while John Foster Dulles made little or no effort to protect the State Department. That really destroyed the morale of the Foreign Service. through the Pentagon Papers would indicate that [CIA] estimates were very close to the truth. This certainly is a major accomplishment. If the policy-makers had paid attention to these assessments, the odds on Viet- nam having progressed along the path it did would have been less. They kept telling the policy-makers that North Vietnam was not going to collapse and was not going to be forced to surrender bv bombing, which would only make them fight harder, or by escalation, which the\' would match. They've [the CIA] haci some great successes in in- dividual operations. The U2, I think, was certainly one of the greatest innovations in the history of intelli- gence. This was a unit^ue aircraft for its time; it could fly higher and take better pictures than anybody ever dreamed of, and it could go into areas where nobody else could get. Until it was shot down, the U2 literally changed our entire knowledge of the Soviet Union from an industrial and mUitary point of view . . . The Berlin Tunnel was another innovative collection of very important intelligence infomiation. Laos was an example of a successful covert operation. But the thing I would emphasize is that most intelligence comes from open information. Eighty to 88 percent of our intelligence infomiation is gathered through electronic means. Sliould the overt ami eoi^ert sides of the CIA be sepa- rated? The Bay of Pigs is a perfect illustration of where that fails. That operation was a little component sort of attached onto CIA; it had CIA people and militan' people in it, but they weren't taking advantage of CIA's analytical side. The operators were telling them- selves what the intelligence was and then acting on it. This is very dangerous. Comi)ig back to the present, do you think that the CIA has become so large it is bureaucratic? I don't think so, because b\' nature they're not bureaucrats. In fact, by nature they're hostile to bu- reaucracy. The intelligence system . . . grew very large during the Vietnam War, and it is now going through a period of cutbacks. Probably about a 30 percent cut- back has taken place in the last several years, which means that a large number of people have been let go. If done correctly, this could be very helpful. It's like pruning a tree or a grapevine; if it's done well, you end up with a great deal more in producHon than vou had originally. I happen to feel that government can be small anyway, much smaller than it is. Could you elaborate more on what you consider to be the strengths of the CIA? I think the greatest, whigh is well documented in the Pentagon Papers, is its ability to work with other intelligence- gathering agencies to provide ver\' accurate estimates of what might develop. A glance What do you eo)isider the cardinal nustakes of CIA? Being too wUIing to act. That's probably the most important mistake. Of course, it's eas\' to sit here in Providence and criticize the CIA. Why did they give Howard Hunt the wigs and other ec]uipment? Of course, they didn't know what it was going to be used for, but that was a mistake in itself. It's easy to criticize. But being too willing to act, and perhaps being action oriented . . . have led to mistakes. Chile is a good example. Of course, again, I am talking from a good, safe distance. Let's talk about aecountabilitxj. I infer from some state- ments in your latest book that you feel the first place we should look for safeguards agai)ist misuse is at the people who man the agena/. Is this true, and what other safeguards do we have? What I am sa\ing, basically, is that intelligence is so complex and so big that the director of CIA has to be someone who, like Colby [present CIA Director Wil- liam Colby], is unimpeachable. The other people who 28 work there have to be the same ... I would add to that that within CIA we ha\e emulated the structure of government as a whole and ha\'e set up a s\'stem of checks and balances. We set up the post of inspector general, with broad, sweeping powers within the agency and answerable to no one but the director him- self. That is a job 1 held for eight \ears. It was a tough job, and unpleasant, because I was constantly criticiz- ing mv peers — cleaning out the closets. We also set up s\'stems to audit our own funds and control our op- erations. In effect, we reviewed ever\'thing we did. In Congress, there are four subcommittees on CIA — one each on the amied services and appropriations committees of each branch. In recent \'ears, three people from the Senate Foreign Relations Committee ha\'e sat with the appropriations and armed services subcommittees to talk about CIA. Their staff people, selected bv the chaimian, are expected to look at what CIA is doing. It becomes a mutual responsibility — for the CIA to keep the subcommittees infonned, and for the congressmen to look at an\thing that concerns them. 1 have to sav it's worked on a mixed basis . . . George Mahon (chairman of the House Appropria- tions Committee) does a ver\' thorough job and is ver\' conscientious. Jerr\' Ford, b\' the wa\', sat on that sub- committee . . . The amied ser\'ices subcommittees have to pass anv authorizations for CIA expenditures. Thev can look at all of CIA's operations in whatever detail thev want to. One vear I spent five full davs up there talk- ing about the budget and what vse were doing ... I think this could be more thorough, more detailed, and 1 think the congressmen on these subcommittees should not be on anv other committees. Thev should have time to devote to it. Perhaps a day a week. They should become true experts. The greatest accounting, ofcourse, is made through the Office of Management and Budget. Thev usually have about five people who are fully cleareci to ex- amine ever\'thing the CIA does . . . Tlie accountabilitv svstem is there. In m\' mind, it's just a matter of clarify- ing it and straightening out some of the details. Then hozv do you explain the coiieeni over the opyposite - that Congress doesn't knoiv what CIA is doing? There is no wav around it, Congress is the scru- tinizing body. Much more of the controversy around CIA emanates from Congress than from anywhere else, in my opinion. Now Senators Weicker and Baker are not on anv CIA subcommittee, so they don't know what's going on. Neither does Father Drinan (Mas- sachusetts Representative Robert Drinan). He and I had a controversv in the letters column of the r//;;t's after I wrote an op-ed piece on CIA. He is not aware of what's going on, so he gets up and makes sweep- mg statements: "Congress doesn't know what CIA is doing." Well, that's in error. But only thirty or thir- ty-five of them know. I think there is a problem there. The White House plumbers "smacked of Nazi Germany" and that Congress shouki straighten it out and stop fighting over the prostrate bod\' of CIA. As a college pnofessor, ivhat have you found the student attitude toward inteUigence to be? It varies, I'm sure, but do you find a lively discussion in your classes? Yes. Studentsarevervinterestedinit. Even through the whole Vietnam War, they were interested. Some of them, I'm sure, are repulsed bv it, feel it is evil and shouldn't exist, and that it is un-American. My atti- tude towards that is this: I, too, wish we didn't have to have it, but until we live in a world where there is no hostility and an open exchange of infomiation, the United States government would be negligent not to have intelligence. S.R. 29 Continuing education on the streets of New York 7f you're an artist in New York City and if you can afford it, the current "in" spot to park your paintbrushes, easels, or sculpting tools is in the twenty-six-block area south of Houston Street (pronounced Howston) known as SoHo. Nestled between Broadway and West Broadway and reaching down to Canal Street, modem day SoHo is known mainly for two things: its com- munity of artists (hundreds of them live in lofts in the area, including Robert In- diana and Claes Oldenburg) and its sin- gular architecture. Officially designated a historic district in 1973, SoHo has the largest concentration of mid-nineteenth century cast-iron buildings in any city in the world. One warm Saturday in September, Brown's Continuing College program sponsored a walking and lecture tour of this recently "discovered" district, led by Art Professor William Jordy and by Ronald Onorato, a doctoral candidate in art history. About forty alumni from the New York City area spent the afternoon strolling the narrow streets of SoHo, lis- tening to the history of the cast-iron buildings, and squinting up at the multi-colored facades — red, green, blue, white, black, and dingy rust — crisscrossed by Z- shaped fire escapes dripping with potted plants. The sour smell of garbage was in the air — evidence of a curious con- tradiction about the area. Although it takes money to live in SoHo these days ("improved" lofts run anywhere from $49,000 to $165,000), SoHo-ites have purposely maintained the grimy. Last Tatigo in Paris look of the place on the outside, hoping to discourage both burglars and would-be residents. The contrast between the external squalor and the internal affluence of SoHo is so sharp that one can fmd a pedigreed Af- ghan taking a sunbath on his private fire escape, while on the sidewalk just.three flights below, a dying rat breathes his last gasp atop a pile of fresh garbage. Professor Jordy explained how Photographs Inj HUGH SMYSER 30 llllf iMli 11 Professor Jordy (arm raised) {joints out a SoHo landmark, the warehouse of lames Bogardiis. creator of the first cast-iron biuldvig III 1848. Vie surrounding buildings show the influence of cast-iron upon masonn/ and vice versa. 31 Continuing education continued SoHci, like the stock market, has had its share of ups and downs. The cast-iron buildings were originally built to house the posh shops and wholesale mer- chandise outfits which dominated the area during the 1850s when SoHo was the commercial center of Manhattan. When the shopping district moved up- town prior to the Civil War, these mer- cantile or commercial "palaces" were converted into warehouses and fac- tories. Neglected for years thereafter. SoHo gradually fell into deca\' until a proposal to run a superhighway through the area in 1960 stirred people to action. A group of artists suddenh' fell in love with the high ceilings and low rents of the old warehouses and pressured the city into making loft liv- ing legal and preserving SoHo as an ar- chitectural landmark. Most of the cast-iron buildings pointed out on the tour, such as the Wood Mercantile Building, the Badger Building on Broadway (the first to be tagged a historic landmark), and the or- nate Cary Building, were actualh' con- structed from a masonr\' framev\ork, with cast-iron used only for the fronts and for ornamentation. Pre-fabricated embellishments (Corinthian lea\es, small figures, urns, animal heads, and columns) were bolted on to the basic structure once the building was com- pleted. The finished product, therefore, could be as sumptuous or as under- stated as the architect's taste and budget allowed. The cast-iron builders were trying to imitate the wide-open fronts and graceful arches of Renaissance and Venetian palaces and they took great pains to make the cast-iron resemble stone, sometimes even going so far as to jortti/ Icaiii (igaiiigt a parked car as he gives a brief histon/ of the district at the begiiuiing of the tour. 32 add sand to the final coat of paint. As a result, the Brown "tour guides" had to point out which buildings were cast- iron and which were stone, for unless the iron has rusted or the casting has broken off, it's practicalh' impossible to tell the difference. "Real cast-iron freaks carrv a magnet with them to be abso- lutely sure," Professor Jordy said. No tour of SoHo would be com- plete without a peek at an artist's loft. Accordingly, the afternoon ended with a get-together at the loft studio of artist John VVillenbecher '58, allowing the group a first-hand look at the floor-to- ceiling windows, wooden floors, ex- posed plumbing, and loosely par- titioned rooms characteristic of many lofts in the district. While VVillen- becher's loft didn't quite classify as "raw space" when he moyed in (the term used to describe totalh' uncon- yerted warehouse space, sans modern heating, plumbing, and electrical wir- ing), it did require extensive improve- ments. "You have to be very versatile to move into one of these," he said, usher- ing his guests up to the loft via his man- ually operated freight elevator, a rem- nant of the building's warehouse days. Now that SoHo has made it big once again, loft prices have jumped and all kinds of people — not |ust artists, but bankers, stock brokers, and museum curators — are vying for living space there. Many SoHo-ites resent the grow- ing commercialism in the district, fear- ing that in a few years SoHo will be as honky-tonk as Greenwich Village. Their fears may be well-founded, for one of the sights seen on the tour was a pop- corn vendor, decked out in a white safari hat and a silver-studded jeans jacket, coolly ignoring the hostile stares of the local residents as he peddled his wares to snack-happy tourists. K.S. 77ie tour concludes with a stop at the loftlstudio of artist John Willenbecher '58 (at left above, he shoics Jordy and others some of his -work). Tlie floor-to-ceiling unndows, ivooden floors, exposed pipes, and embossed tin ceiling (right) are reminiscent of the budding's fonner warehouse days. 33 o u § 34 ^=^ Pi?(D)(S(igMin Which way the Brown Clubs? When Knight Edwards '45 assumed the chairmanship of the Corporation's Committee on Alumni-Alumnae Rela- tions in the fall of 1971, he immediately wrote to alumni leaders around the country for suggestions. The Provi- dence attorney still laughs about one of the first letters he received in reply. "On this matter of alumni-alumnae rela- tions," the man said, "I definitely think we should have them." Actualh' the report of this com- mittee of trustees and alumni leaders — known now as the Edwards Report — couldn't have come at a better time. Following a national trend. Brown Club activity had fallen on hard times. Of the sixty-seven Brown Clubs, only twenty to twenty-five were considered "active" organizations. The financial pinch, in- creasing competition for people's time, and a lack of imaginative club leader- ship all combined to create the problem. The Edwards Report touched on a wide variety of alumni issues when it was published in the fall of 1972, but the problem of more effectively organizing alumni outside of Rhode Island was said to be "of top priority." The report went on to make five specific recom- mendations in this area: n That the alumni relations staff reappraise and reevaluate the organiza- tion of alumni in the field. n That priorities be established to service geographic areas selectively. n That experiments be made with a "council" concept of club activity. n That continued efforts be made to increase the number of varied and imaginative programs in the field. n That programs sent from Provi- dence be made available to all alumni in an area, not merely to members of a club structure. In an inten'iew recently, Jon C. Keates '66, director of alumni relations, talked about what the alumni office had done during the past two years to im- plement the recommendations: "We started with the first suggestion in the Edwards Report — that our office reappraise and reevaluate the organiza- tion of alumni and alumnae in thi' field. And the first thing we did was appoint a Clubs and Off-Campus Activities Committee, with Jane Bertram Miluski '58 as chairwoman. "One result of this committee's work is the national calendar of events carried in the October issue of this magazine. Now, club leaders and alumni can see what the other guy is do- ing. The committee, which is now chaired by Michael A. Cardozo '63, also helped pull together a list of club and class officers as well as directors of the Associated Alumni and the National Alumni Schools Program. We felt that this sort of mutual identification would give us the solid foundation we needed in order to tackle the other recommen- dations in the Edwards Report." Another early step was the iden- tification of potentially successful Brown Clubs that were having financial problems. Twenty key regions were identifieci, financial support was pro- vided, and staff members worked closely with the club officers in develop- ing programs and designing mailings. "There was a nitty-gritty problem in all this," Keates says. "While we at Alumni House wished to infuse vitality into the club structures, our funds were very limited. So what we did was dou- ble up, asking the more affluent clubs to pay for their own mailings and support the travel expenses of their speakers. We then put our money into the clubs we felt most needed the help." The "council" concept in Brown Club activity was another matter. There were those at Alumni House who weren't sure that this would work. The doubters had their answer in a hurry. During 1973-74 a pilot State Council of New Jer- sey was developed around the concept of a central organizing body of fimd raisers, student recruiters, club presi- dents, and continuing education chair- men. The results couldn't have been better. Witln Ken Chambers '55 as the mov- ing force, the New Jersey group took five existing Brown Clubs (three of which were dormant), one active Pem- broke Club, and four National Alumni Schools Committees. Through a series of meetings attended by Alumni Office representatives Marv Louise Barksdale '51 and David J. Zucconi '55, the clubs were reduced to four and the NASP committees were expanded from four to seven. The four satellite groups adopted the name. New Jersey Council of Clubs. "The program worked well," Zuc- coni says. "The satellite groups still sponsored their own activities, but ev- erything was coordinated through the council. A Saturday seminar attracted 125 alumni from all parts of the state, and visits of faculty members were coordinated so that they could visit one 36 group on a Saturday, for example, and move on to another meeting in the New Jersey region the next day. "The idea of the state council is spreading," Zucconi continued. "The Brown Clubs of Fairfield, Hartford, and New Haven got together this fall and sponsored Brown Day at the Bowl, a day-long program that included liba- tions, box lunches, and music bv the Brown Band, all built around the visit of the soccer and football teams to Yale. The clubs were pleased with the results and plan to combine their efforts again." A major recommendation of the Edwards Report was that both the clubs and the Alumni Office take a fresh look at the activities scheduled bv the var- ious dubs. There was a serious question as to whether or not the old football- smoker concept — the coach, a movie, and some drinks — would reach a broad section of today's alumni. "There is nothing wrong with the football smokers, per se," Keates savs. "These are fun events — and thev should continue. It's just that clubs have got to do more than that. So we've started to export Saturday Seminars to alumni and parent groups, sometimes through clubs and sometimes indepen- dently. A speakers' bureau of faculty was developed last \-ear, and a student speakers' bureau is planned for later this sear. The Brown Chorus was made a\'ailable to Brown Clubs on its spring tour. "One of the newest wrinkles in club programming emanating from Providence includes a tour b\ represen- tatives of the Brown Theater. Scenes from Sock & Buskin plays will be staged for alumni groups as frequently as pos- sible. "Any tmie we send out a program from Maddock Alumni Center we make sure that all alumni in that area are notified, not just the club members," he said. "We have found that attendance is much larger this way, all of which makes the expense of the program easier to rationalize. "We've tried another new ap- proach which is working. When Presi- dent Hornig went to Los Angeles last spring, instead of his giving one talk in the center of L. A. and having all the alumni come to him, we scheduled Mr. Homig at a series of meetings in the suburbs of Los Angeles. In a sense, he came to the alumni. We ended up with the biggest combined attendance we've ever had in that citv." The list of new ideas goes on. Mary Louise Barksdale is helping to publish a newsletter that will go to all Brown Club members three times a year. And Susan Au '72 is in charge of a program to make better use of faculty and administrative people on the road. If, for example, a professor happens to be traveling to Chicago to attend a con- vention on his department's expense account, Ms. Au tries to arrange for Four years before merger (iiexf page), the Nezc York Brown ami Pembroke clubs joined to honor then-neio President Homig. 37 him to speak at a Brown Club meeting in the area. Last spring, a "Rocks and Jocks" party was held in Dallas. Robley K. Matthews, chairman of the geological sciences department, was attending a convention in Dallas at the same time John Anderson, head football coach, was there recruiting. It seemed natural to build a meeting around the t\\ o. Nearh' si\t\- attended, a good turnout for the Dallas area Of course, the best programs in the world aren't going to m.ean a thing without alumni. So the Alumni Office has made a conscious effort to get awa\ from the big, expensive dinner meet- ings, or at least to combine the dinner meeting with an alternate choice of SI for coffee and dessert for those who might want to attend the program but not spend S8 or SIO for a meal. .At a recent meeting in New Haven, thirtx - seven alumni attended the formal dinner and another twenty-eight joined the group for coffee and dessert. When the speaker stood up, there were si\t\ - five faces in front of him instead of just thirty-seven. "We haven't soh'ed all our prob- lems yet, and we haven't come dose to exploring all the possibilities for new approaches," Keates savs. "But we have made a start. And one thing is sure — the Brown Clubs are alive and breathing stronglv again." In New York City, a move and a merger Perhaps the biggest club news this fall has come from the Brown Club in New York. Brown's oldest club has made two moves — a physical mo\e from the quarters it shared with Dart- mouth in the Commodore Hotel to a new location at 3 West 5f st Street, and a philosophical move toward a merged club. Once perhaps the most active and prestigious Brown Club in the countr\', the New York club has been struggling in recent vears. It faced the same prob- lems affecting most private men's clubs today, especially those in big cities — costs going up and membership going down, as life patterns change and more and more people move to the suburbs. Columbia no longer has a club of its own in New York City, Penn hasn't had one in several years, and Dartmouth is just getting by. Harx'ard, Yale, Prince- ton, and Cornell have functioned with their own clubs — but the\', too, have had problems. Operating in this atmosphere, the Brow n Club's decision to strike out on its own must be considered a bold move. Yet, the fact remains that never before has the New York club been lo- cated in a more convenient home. The quarters at 3 West 51st Street place the Brown group in the Women's National Republican Club, a building that has much to offer. It is within easy walking distance of the theaters and good restaurants; it has dining facilities and pleasant overnight accommoda- tions at a reasonable price; a ballroom, meeting rooms, and office space are available; and the club now pro\ides re- ciprocal arrangements with man\' other hotels anti eating clubs. The man at Brown who helped work out these arrangements was Robert A. Reichley, associate vice- president and director of University re- lations. He admits that the efforts were difficult, the meetings dra\Nn-out and sometimes heated. "The problem was this," Reichkn savs. "There were two clubs m New- York City, the old Brown Club with its o\yn facilib.' and a highh- active Pem- broke Club with no facility. It became clear to me, at least, that for Brown Uni- versity to get the most out of the club people in New York City, we needed a combined effort. "Some of us had second thoughts about affiliating the club \yith a political part\- — anv political party — but we decided that the advantages far out- weighed this potential problem. Our re- lations with Dartmouth had been good, but the fact remained that we were in The Dartmouth Club. We were second cousins. Our monthly statement even came addressed in green ink. Now, the Brown plaque is up and the flag is tl\'ing o\er West 31st Street." Moving to a new location wasn't a ver\- controversial issue. Merging was. Reichley points out that many club members still remember the club fondly from Its heyde\' and continue to vis- ualize it as a Victorian men's club. Some of the women also objected to the merger. They had a \er\' active organ- ization, but of a different kind. Some women fearetl that they might lose their identit\' under the ne\y arrange- ment. Serious discussions on the merger started last fall. The differences were talked out slowly and thoroughly. "The key to all this, as I saw it," Reichley savs, "was getting a merged board of directors that \yould include a good LTOss section of ages and interests. Some sacrifices were necessars' to ha\ c a broad and active membership. "1 think we achieved this objecti\e. Bill Bloomingdale '33 is chairman of our , finance committee, while \ounger ' alumni such as Dan Cummings '72 and Martha Clark Dentel '72 chair the acti\'- / ities committee and are also on the \ board of directors. "We also established two t\'pes ot , memberships," Reichley adds. "A house member pays 5140 annually and ' has full signing pri\ileges at the club and all reciprocal arrangements. Alum- ni who don't want to pay S140 can join the Brown Club in New York for S20 as an associate member. They will receive all mailings, be able to take part in all club events, but don't have signing or reciprocal privileges. The new merged board, however, does have people from both categories." Last spring, at the meeting to con- solidate the merger, Reichley made a peace offering b\' returning the Brown Club plaque which had been stolen from the front of the Commodore Hotel some time ago. Where did he get the plaque? A custodian at Brown found it last summer \yhile cleaning one of the student rooms on campus. Art Thebado '51, a vice-president with ABC-TV' , is the president of the merged board of directors of the Brown Club in New York. The other officers in- clude Harold Meyer '58, Peggy Ogden '53, and Norma Caslov\-itz Murves '54, vice-presidents: Jeff Carter '69, secre- tary-; and Herb Iselin '42, treasurer. Anv wounds from the merger fight seem to have healed. Says President Thebado: "The members of both groups are about 99 percent in favor of the merger and feel it was ine\itable, largely because both groups were having membership problems. I do kno\y this — the new officers and merged board are one of the most en- thusiastic Brown groups I've ever W(.)rked w ith. I see nothing but blue sk\- ahead. " 38 Three from Brown make Time's 200 "leaders" ThiL'f Brown alumni made the list when Time magazine published its re- cent feature on "Leadership In Ameri- ca." In Time's portfolio of 200 voung American leaders (voung meaning 45 and under), the names of Clarence C. Barksdale '54, Arthur R. Tavlor '57, and Richard C. Holbrooke '62 appeared. What prompted the stor\' was a question heard often in these times — where are the leaders of this generation, the present-da\' Churchills and Roose- velts? Time contends that America does have the men and women who can as- sume leadership roles under the proper circumstances and gi\'en the right spirit in the countrw Pointing out that its choices were based on accomplishment in some cases and on promise in others. Time said the list was intended "neither as an endorsement" nor as the maga- zine's version of "The Top 200 Ameri- cans." Clarence Barksdale, 42, is president and chief executive officer of the "old- Line" First National Bank of St. Louis. Tiirie points out that he is also involved, both as banker and as a pnvate citizen, in tr\'ing to revitalize the citv: "A direc- tor of the executive committee of the St. Louis Regional Commerce and Growth Association, 'Cedge' Barksdale is pro- moting several civic projects, including development of a man-made lake in the nearb)' Meramec River basin that will ser\'e as a community recreation center. During the four vears that Barksdale has headed the bank, its deposits have topped SI billion for the first time and its international business has tripled." Richard Holbrooke, 33, a history- major, worked on Vietnam policv as an ambassadorial assistant in Saigon, in the State Department, and as a member of the U.S. delegation to the Paris peace 'talks. Says Time: "In 1972 his late but growing reputation as a pithv critic of some aspects of U.S. foreign relations helped win him the managing editor- ship of Foreign Polio/ magazine, a small but influential quarterlv . . ." Arthur Tavlor, 39, was leaning toward a teaching career after being "turned on" bv Renaissance history at Brown. But as Time notes, after taking his master's in historv at Brown, Tavlor joined the investment banking house of First Boston Corporation instead. The story goes on: "Stunningly adept at financial analvsis, he rose to a vice- presidency and the board of directors bv 1969, joined International Paper Com- pany a year later and revamped its financial structure. In 1972, though in- experienced in broadcasting, the corpo- rate Wunderkind was tapped for the pres- idency of CBS. An outspoken opponent of government interference with the media, he has also taken steps to accel- erate the ad\'ancement of women at the network." Some positive thinking by Tyler Chase They say you can't go home again, but don't tell that to Tyler Chase '72. Six \ears ago Chase was the star quarter- back and field-goal kicker for the Hop- kins football team in Hartford, Conn. Today you can find him resting com- fortably in the office back at Hopkins that has "Head Coach" over the door. Chase should be a familiar name to manv Brown alumni. For three vears he booted extra points and field goals for the Brow^n football team, setting five or six records, including an Ivv League mark of five field goals in one game against Penn in 1972. He is the son of Benjamin Chase '38 and Frances Bab- cock Chase '40. The 22-\'ear old isn't the least bit concerned that he's younger than most of his teaching colleagues (he teaches Earth Sciences) and not much older than most of his plasers. "This hasn't been a problem," Chase says. "I was treated as a member of the facultN' right awav. Even my old teachers regard me as an equal. And as far as coaching is concerned, 1 don't feel that age is rele\-ant in the relationship between plaver and coach. The kev word has to be respect." Even when Chase was majoring in geologv at Brown he couldn't quite en- vision himself in a suit and tie, sitting behind a desk all day. He admits that he has alwa\'s had his eve on the coach- ing game. "A kicker onlv needs about fortv- five minutes of practice each dav," he savs. "I'd put in mv time, but I wouldn't leave. I'd stick around for two reasons. Camaraderie was one. Observing techniques was the other. I tried to ob- serve as much of the game as 1 could." This isn't to say that Chase has completelv planned his future. Right now he's keeping his options open. "1 might be here two years or twenty vears," he told columnist Bob Duffv of the Nrw Haven Courier. "If I can win a few this year it mav have some bearing on my thinking." Chase was thinking verv positively after the opening game — a 22-0 victory- over the Loomis School. At 89, Henry Carpenter is still singing Henr)' C. Carpenter '06 of North Kingstown, R.I., says that his singing voice isn't quite what it used to be. Then, with a twinkle in his eve, he adds, "Of course it never was verv good to begin with." The long-time class secretari' is plaving it a bit cov here. The facts indi- cate that he has a rich background in singing, starting when he was a bov in Providence singing in a church choir. Later, while teaching at the Collegiate School in New York Citv, Henr\' Car- penter and his wife, Ivis, found them- selves spending five nights a week sing- ing with various groups. During his teaching and singing davs. Carpenter kept returning to North Kingstown, where he operated the Cold Spring House, a summer hotel and res- taurant. "Teachers in those days had to earn an extra dollar when they could," he sa\'s. "Why, in one of mv earh' teach- ing jobs in Virginia 1 earned a generous salarv' of $900 a year." About three years ago Henr\' Car- penter retired as a singer, claiming that "it was time for yc)uth to take over." But he didn't retire into inactivitw He still keeps up his clam digging, and this summer he had a few swims at the private beach on his propert\' at Cold Spring Lane, although he admits that "1 got out of that cold water pretty quick." His five children (a son is Henry Carpenter, Ir. '34), seventeen grand- children, and ten great-grandchildren didn't let Henry Carpenter's 89th birth- da\- slip bv unnoticed on October 7. The guest of honor even came out of retire- ment long enough to sing a few cho- ruses of "Happy Birthday." "I still love to throw the head back and sing," Carpenter admits. "You know," he added, taking off his glasses and letting a smile cross his face, "in all my years of singing, only once did I get paid for it. The St. Joseph's Choir in New York City paid me $25 a month. Actually, 1 would have sung for noth- ing. And come to think of it, at those rates that's exactly what I did!" l.B. 39 Tlhd Osi "1 ^ Alan A. Slade is retired in Wilton, A-^m Conn Friends mav reach him at 27 Westport Rd , Wilton, 06897. 'I C Osiflr A. Brwivi is retired in the J.C7 Bronx, N.Y. He served for mans' years as eastern field manager of Nation's Business, the official publication of the U.S. Chamber of Commerce, and thereafter as manager of the Bureau of National Affairs in Washington, D.C. nHugh Miller of Carmel, Calif., is the author of a new book, Can Mt!>i Prevail? subtitled Human Life m Its Evolu- tionani Environment , published in September. Starting with the premise that "99.9 percent of all species ever originated are no longer extant," Professor Miller discusses the evolutionar\' histors' of Homo sapiens as \\ ell as the future of mankind. ^ C Stuart R. Briggs of Clarenumt, Jmm\J Calif., retired this vear from his position as professor of accounting at Claremont Men's College, where he was a member of the faculty from the college's founding in 1946. During his twenty-eight years at Claremont, he also served at various times as dean of students, dean of student counseling, and dean of administration. This year he was the recipient of the Crocker Award of Merit for outstanding teaching and service to the college. He writes, "I am not being put out to pasture, and the term 're- tirement' is a misnomer in mv case. I shall continue to carry on in my profession as a CPA, and I shall also be busy as a corpora- tion officer." Herbert W. Campbell recenth' retired as president of his real estate and insurance company, Herbert W. Campbell, Inc., in Newark, N.J. He and his wife, Mar\-, have three daughters, Carol, Patricia, and Bar- bara, who are married and raising families of their own in various parts of the countn.'. Herb reports that he is looking forward to the class' 50th reunion in 1975. Edwin Allen Smith is retired in Fifzwil- liam, N.H. "There are some good baseball boys up here — worth scouting — also foot- ball," he writes. "Here's to our 50th next vea r. " ^ /I The pre-50th reunion this vear ^m\J will be the annual cocktail party at 5 p.m. in Littlefield Lounge on Friday, Ma\' 31, prior to the Alumni Dinner. The 50th reunion committee for the "Spirit of '26" is already meeting and would appreciate your suggestions. Please contact Gus Anthony, 1 1 Euclid Ave., Providence, R.l. 02906. Alice Humphreit Custer reports that her son, Stephen, is a member of the cello sec- tion of the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Alice and her husband, William, spend half of each year in Cape Coral, Fla., and the other half on Cape Cod, Mass. Eton]. Notley, former general manager of the Baltimore branch of Aetna Life & Casu- alty Co., is retired in Vero Beach, Fla. Since retiring, he has worked with insurance com- panies in Panama and Brazil as a member of the International Executive Service Corps. ^ Q Helen Butts Correll and her hus- JmmO band, Donovan, are both on the staff of the Fairchild Tropical Garden in Miami, Fla. She w^rites, "I hope my class- mates and friends at Brown will stop in to see us and the garden if they are in Miami," Marion E. Kalkman has co-authorod a book. New Dimensions in Mental Health- Psychiatric Nursing, published last spring b\ McGraw-Hill. Marion lives in San Francisco. H. Gordon Minnigerode of Talladega, Ala., retired in 1958 after twenty-eight years in the U.S. Foreign Service, during which he served at seventeen posts in fourteen coun- tries. Since then he has taught world histor\' at Brandon Hall in Atlanta and Anniston .Academy in Anniston, Ala, ^r^ M- Veronica Holland Hurley h^s ' 23, 1973. Hilton H. Gieseke and Diane E. Audorff were married in September 1973 and live in Philadelphia. Stqihen A. Goldberger of Wayland, Mass., has been named vice-president for finance and administration of Hills Department Stores in Canton, Mass. John S. Hoover, Coventn', R.I., has been named sales manager of Sealol, Inc., of Warwick, R.l. Dean A. Lionigren is director of equity product planning for the Equity Sales Co., a subsidiary of the Connecticut General Life Insurance Co. He lives in West Simsbury, Conn. Capt. Joseph A. Nardino (USAF) is cur- rently assigned to the headquarters of the Di- rectorate of Security Police, U.S. Air Force, in Washington, D.C. He was recently awarded the Meritorious Service Medal for three years' service at Tactical Air Command Headquarters at Langley AFB, Va. He and his wife, Joann, have two children, David. 3, and Cherie, 1. Valerie Estey Nemirou' and her husband are parents of their second son, Jcirdan Pol- lard, bom February 6. Their other son. Lane, is 3. They live in Fairfax, Va. Arthur S. Priver is technical assistant to the deputy director of the U.S. Department of Transportation's Systems Center in Cam- bridge, Mass. He lives in Wellesley, Mass., where he was recently elected president of the Welleslev Jaycees. After two and a half years as an assistant state's attorney in Maryland, David K. Rmn- sey is in the private practice of law in Prince George's County. He also works part-time as a public defender and coaches his oldest son's Little League team. David lives in Laurel, Md. June Richardson Shapiro is director of the library in Cheshire, Conn., and has been ap- pointed editor-in-chief of Co/i?u'c(icuf Librar- ies, the journal of the Connecticut Librar\' Association. Her husband, Donald, is on the faculty of the Yale University School of Medicine. They live in New Haven with their children, Nancy and Andrew. Susan Herron Sibbet, San Francisco, writes, "After helping our neighborhood lead San Francisco city schools into the be- ginnings of an integrated, functioning s\ '-- tem, we're now trying to rebuild the physical plants {ewer forty years old) to house all our new programs." Susan and her husband, David, have two children, Tom, 12, and Jerda, 3. Anne Hupper Wright and Ric Blacksten were married June 22. They live in Arlington, Va., where Anne teaches math and social studies at the |unior high level. /Z C Heiity D. Anderson and Gail Wag- OCJ ner were married in September 1973 in Suffem, N.Y. Thev live in Redondo Beach, Calif. Charles A)isbacher is the conductor and musical director of the Colorado Springs Symphony. Charles made his European debut in the Netherlands in March, and he j continues to conduct the Colorado Springs i Community Orchestra, the training cirches- ! tra he helped to organize three years ago. i Leslie Blatt, radio news editor for ABC ' News in Washington, D.C, and Leslie Zilber i of Baltimore, Md., were married December 22, 1973. ! Nonnan A. Comet is an instructional i technologist/media specialist at St. Philip's i College in San Antonio, Texas, for the Higher Education Achievement Program (HEAP), which "provides counseling and tutoring for students whose test results and credentials indicate that they might experi- ence difficulty with college-level subjects." Catherine Cooper is a student at the American Graduate School of International Management in Glendale, Ariz. Geoffreii C. Gehnan, who received his MBA. degree from Columbia in May, is with the Fiduciary Trust Co. in New York City. Barbara J. Kat:, Washington, D.C, a writer for the National Observer, was one of two recipients this vear of the Science-in- Societv Journalism Award presented by the National Association of Science Writers. Barbara won in the life-science category with a story on intrauterine devices. Frederick M. Lowther has been made a partner in the Washington, D.C, law fimi of Dickstein, Shapiro & Morin. John L. Moncrief, Jr., and Marianne Giniger were married June 1 in New York City. John is a lawyer with the New York fimi of DeForrest & Duer. Gary P. Naftalis (A.M.) and Donna Arditi were married in June in Port Chester, N.Y. Gary is counsel to the law firm of Orans, Elsen & Polstein in New York City. David F. Nutting, who received his Ph.D. in phssiology from Duke University in 1969, IS an assistant professor in the department of physiology and biophysics at the University of Tennessee Health Sciences Center in Memphis. He is conducting research on the regulatory mechanisms which control animal responses to pituitary growth hormones. L. Richard Plunkett, Jr.. has been pro- moted to associate trust investment officer with the Trust Company of Georgia, in At- lanta. 44 Edward ]. Rcanion is a senior research as- sociate in the photos\stems department of Horizons, Inc., in Cleveland. He lives in Chesterland, Ohio. Stu Smith lives in Vallecito, Calif., and works for the American River Touring As- sociation as a guide on the Stanislaus and American Rivers. Lawrence Vanderburgh has opened his o\vn architectural and land-planning firm, the Sanders-Vanderburgh Partnership, in Rockville, Md. Ricliard A. WiUuwison isdirector of finan- cial planning for the Cit\' Investing Co. in New York Cit\-, /I /T Edward W. Bernet is general nian- UU ager of the precious metal refineiT inLhatsworth, Calif., for Sel-Re\ Co., a di\-i- sion of Oxvmetal Industries Corp. Victoria Stei)iit: Boies and her husband, Wilber, are parents of their second child and first daughter, Carolyn Ursula, born May 31. Their son, Andrew, is 2. John M. Cross has been transferred b\' Senator Mclntvre of New Hampshire to the professional staff of the Senate Select Com- mittee on Small Business in Washington, D.C. He writes that he is "still responsible for advising the Senate on energv, but added duties include occupational safet\- and health legislation and cutting government red tape b\ legislation." Leah Sprague Crothcrs is a student at Bos- ton University School of Law, where she is on the staff of the Law Re7.nrw. She li\'es in Welleslev Hills, Mass., with her txvo chil- dren, Sean, 8, and Lauren, 3. Daniel B. Cridley, San Francisco, is work- ing as a free-lance graphic designer and de- sign consultant to the Sierra Club. Ian S. Habcnnan is assistant dean of Western Reser\'e College, the undergraduate liberal arts college of Case Western Resen. e Uni\ersit\ , Judith Hoxvard Montgonieni and her hus- band, Douglas, are parents of their second son, .Alexander Howard, born lune 18. Jud\ , who is with the English department of Lake Forest College, will resume teaching there m Januar\'. Douglas is associate professor of politics and director of the Wood Institute of Local and Regional Studies at Lake Forest. Thevlivein Lake Bluff, 111. Lawrence Rhoades and his \N'ife ha\'e a new son, Michael Lawrence, born Januar}' 5, and a new address at 416 Sulgrave Rd., Pittsburgh, Pa. 15211. President of the Ex- trude Hone Corp. in Irwin, Pa., Lawrence es- tablished a new company. Extrude Hone Ltd., in Shannon, Ireland, last year and re- cently opened a new European technical center for the firm in Cheltenham, England, Stifhen A. Scliwar: is a visiting assistant professor at the University of San Francisco School of Law for the 1974-75 academic \ear. Peter C. Smith, who received his Ph.D. degree from the Massachusetts Institute of TechnologN' in 1973, is a research oceanog- rapher at the Bradford Institute in Dart- mouth, Nova Scotia. Robert T. Souers of Little Ferr\', N.L. is an account supervisor in the corporate division of Rogers and Cowan, Inc., a public relations firm. Dale Burg '62 Otto Preminger sent champagne Some of the offbeat things Dale Burg '62 has done lately include swapping funn\' stories with Peter Lawford in Kenya, arrang- ing for a friend to appear as Cosmopolitan's Bachelor of the Month, and co-authoring Vie Great Carmen Miranda Look-Alike Contest and Other Bold-Faced Lies, a book about the public relations world. As a senior staff publicist at Columbia Pictures in New York City, Dale's |ob is to sell paperback firms the rights to original screenplays so that books can be made from movie scripts. CaUfornia Split and For Pete's Sake are recent examples. .A city slicker at heart. Dale Burg is hooked on "the New York scene." She says she can sleep through any amount of city noise, but take her out to the country and she's as sensitive as the princess was to the pea. "If I hear a bird chirp, I go bananas," she says. To Dale, living in New York means "being a part of the excitement" of the city. She particularly enjoys "being in a position to influence the national media" and hob- nobbing socially and professionally with the people in the media world who make it all happen. Dale has received some renow n of late as "the real Sheila Levine," the person about xvhom the best-selling novel and soon-to- be-released movie. Sheila Levine is Dead and Living in Neiv York Citt/, was supposedh- wxit- ten. The author, Gail Parent, grew up with Dale on Long Island. Once the word leaked out that Gail had patterned the character of Sheila after her friend, a California news- paper rushed to get an exclusive interview with Dale as "the real Sheila," and the book publishers "got crazy," she says, because the book purports to be entireh' fictional. "1 even Dak Burg: Hooked on the Nrw York scene. autograph books now as the real Sheila," she adds, undaunted. When Dale Burg talks, the words tum- ble and somersault in the air, mingling with her soft laughter. She is quick, clever, and a self-professed hedonist. "There are only a few people, like Einstein or some novelists, who have a real gift," she says, "and the rest of us just get by." {Or schlepp along, as Sheila Levine would say.) "You may as well have fun." One of the things she has en- joyed most about her job recenth- was the six weeks she spent in Kenya as a unit publicist for the NBC-TV series, "Bom Free." "It was like a fond dream," she says. "There I was 7,600 miles away from home telling funny stories just like in New York, only I was tell- ing them to Peter Lawford and other actors." The title of Dale's book. The Great Car- men Miranda Look-Alike Contest, which she co-authored \yith .Abby Hirsch, relates to a publicity stunt the two rigged up to get press coverage for a Busby Berkeley film starring Carmen Miranda. Desperate for gimmicks, Abby decided at the last minute that it would be a good idea to hold a Carmen Miranda look-alike contest and then took off for din- ner, leaving Dale in charge of the "details." "I only had a couple of hours," Dale says, "so I called a friend of mine who dresses en- tirely in red and has a troupe of transvestites who make movies together. He said he didn't really have time to do a numh)er' on such short notice, but promised to do his best." Two hours later, she says, "four guys arrived dressed in Gibson Girl skirts, big 1900s hats with fruit, the whole bit. One guy even had a beard. M\' friend called out, 'Yoo hoo,' and the client turned to me and said furiously, 'Get them out of here before the contestants arrive.' I said, 'They arc the con- testants.' " The woman to w hom Otto Preminger once sent a magnum of champagne as a thank-you for getting him tickets to Oh! Calcutta!, Dale Burg feels her original career plans (to be a director in legitimate theatre) aren't too far afield from her present line of work because "publicity is really show busi- ness. " In fact, publicity is considered such a glamorous field that an interviewer from Cosmopolitan once asked her if she had ever been stranded overnight in a van \yith Robert Redford. "Would I be here?" she replied. Dale IS currently writing an article forCosiiici about her trip to Kenya and is finishing up a collection of essays titled Atrociti/ Stories: Not a Book About the War. "It's about dating," she says. K.S. 45 Mcralilli Kiiighl Sloiu, I'rinitton, N,|.. rocL'ivcd htT M Ld. degree from KutgiTs in May ' William W. Stork (M.A T.) is diri'Llm .'t studies M the Marlborough School m 1 os Angeles. He lives in Pasadena. Calif u ilh his wife, Clenna, and their two children, Christina. S, and 5and\ , 2. John M. Wmtherbi/, who received his M.B A. degree from Wichita State Universit\ this vear, is an industrial development specialist with the Southern Pacihc Industrial Development Co. in San Francisco. He was formerlv a captain in the U.S. Air Force, stationed at McConnell AFB in Wichita, where he served as missile crew commander for the Titan ICBM weapon system Diiviii E. Willnir ot Barrington, 111., re- ceived his M B.A. degree from Dartmouth's Amos Tuck School of Business in June. He is a financial consultant with American Valua- tion Consultants in Des Plaines, 111. /T ^ William C. Aiiams, jr., who re- O / ceived his MBA, degree from Harvard in )une, is in corporate de\elopment and planning with the INA Corp. of Phil- adelphia He lives in Swarthmore, Pa. S. Haydeii Andersini, Jr., a senior ac- countant with Arthur Anderson and Co. in Boston, u as aw arded a bronze medal from the Massachusetts Society of Certified Public Accountants for his performance on the Mav 1973 CPA exam. William O. Ball, jr., who received his M.B. A. degree from Stanford University in June 1973, is with Bankers Trust Co. Leasing Services in New York City. James T. Bartis has been appointed an as- sistant professor of chemistry at Cornell. His wife is/fssicfl Price Bartis (see '73). Pt'ft-r W. Billings moved to Salt Lake Citv earlier this year to manage Congressman Wayne Owens' campaign for the U.S. Senate. William L. Finn and Stephanie A. Ger- vais were married in Holvoke, Mass., in June. William is vice-president of E &: J Dis- tributors of Northampton, Mass., and gen- eral manager of Trieo Vendors, a division of E & J in Easthampton, Mass. The Finns live in Amherst. David S. Fou'ler. Fair Haven, N.J., is the national manager of manpower planning and development for Chubb anci Son, Inc., of Short Hills, N.J. Frederick L. Huntington received his mas- ter's degree in psychology and counseling from Assumption College in May. He lives in Worcester, Mass. Daniel Lrwis, who graduated from the University of Pennsylvania Law School in 1970, has been appointed chief of the New York district attorney's branch office in Har- lem, where he will head a seven-man office dealing with white-collar crime. Prior to his appointment, he spent two years frying Su- preme Court cases as an assistant district at- torney. Sonna Miller Loewenthal, who received her master's degree in regional planning from the University of North Carolina m 1973, is working as a planner for the cit\' of Durham, N.C. iVt'/s(iii Martina ^\ni.{ Bernice Haven were married July 17 in Brown's Manning Chapel. rhe\ live in Providence Dr. Richard A. Patt and his wife, Althea, are parents of a son, loshua Charles, born Februarv 17. They recently moved to Den- ver, w here Richard is with the University ot Colorado FamiK Medicine Program, Willa Pinto has lieen reappointed a visit- ing assistant professor of philosophy at the University of Colorado in Boulder for the 1974-73 academic year. Saif( R. Sanders is on leave this year from Indiana University to teach creative writing as a Bennett Fellow at Exeter Academy. The author of Fetching the Dead and D. H. Law- rence: A Study of the Five Major Noi'els, Scott is currently working on a novel titled Warchild. Cariyle A. Thayer, Canberra, Australia, is a doctoral candicfate in the international relations department. Research School of Pacific Studies, at The Australian National University. /T O John Anghni is a senior auditor OO at Research-Cottrell, Inc., of Bedmmster, N.J., manufacturers of air pollution-control equipment. He lives in North Plaintield, N.J. Frederick W. Arnold IV, who received his J.D. degree from Fordham University in June, is an assistant trust officer with the White Plains, NY., Trust Division of Chemi- cal Bank. Lee Bacheler received her Ph.D. degree from Johns Hopkins this vear and is working at the Salk Institute in San Diego, Calif. Anthmy A. Belcher and Loraine K. Chris- tenson were married August 13, 1973. Tony, who received his M.Ed, cfegree from Tufts in 1971, is chaimian of the math and science department at Mary V. Quirk Junior High School in Warren, R.I. Will S. Brown 111, who received his M.B. A. in June from Harvard, is a credit analyst at the Rhcxle Island Hospital Trust National Bank in Providence. Lucy M. Chirico and Henrv B. Schuvler were married May 25 on the Columbia Uni- versity campus in New York. Virginia Hein- bockel '68 was maid of honor. Lucy and Henry live in New York City. John S. Garcia and Clara Halterman were married May 25 in Charleston, S.C. Thev live in Monterey, Calif. William D. Gibson, who received his M.B. A. degree from the Babson Institute of Business Administration in 1972, was re- cently named branch manager of the Easton, Mass. , office of the First Bristol County Na- tional Bank. He lives in Taunton, Mass. Wilbur and Rita Chao Hadden (see '69) re- cently returned from Thailand, where Bill spent eighteen months doing field research for his doctorate on "Law and Society in Thailand." Bill and Rita live in Coming, N.Y., where he is currently at work on his thesis. Alfred P. Hallstrom (Ph.D., ■62Sc.M.) and his wife, Eileen (see '72), are parents of a son, Philip Jacob Kohl, bom May 24. They are living in Turkey, where Al is teaching at Bosphorus University in Istanbul. He was tornierK a biostalistics research associate ^ii the University ot Washington Paul C- Hans, who was reienth trans ferred to the corporate office of Fairchild In dustries in Gemiantown, Md,, has been promoted o manager ot tinancial analysis jerni A. Hausman has receued his Ph I ' degree in economics from Oxford Uni\ ersil\ He and his wife live in Milton, Mass, Gerald B Langille received his Ph D do glee from the State University ot New York at Binghamton in June, and is a geologist with Texaco, Inc, in New Orleans. lames W. Mclnttre and Sandra L. Waui;h were married June 1 and are living in Glad- wyne. Pa. James received his doctor of \ et erinarv medicine degree from the Uniyersii\ of Pennsylvania in June and is a veterinarian at the Devon Animal Hospital in Devon, I\i ■Vliin/ jane McNulti/ (M.A.T.) and her husbancf, William, recently returned from Australia, where she was on a two-year In temational Teaching Fellowship. "We brought a special souvenir back from Aus- tralia," she writes, "our son, Ian Andrew, born December 11, 1973." Marv Jane re- sumed her teaching position at East Green- wich, R.I., High in September. Martha O'Connor Meinster of Philadel- phia received her Ph.D. degree from Rutgers in Mav. Richard L. Naroa and his wife. Amy Grossman Nan>a (see '71), are parents of a son, Joshua Adam, bom last St. Patrick's Day. Richard is a law student at Boston Uni- versity, where he is an editor of the La;c Rr viejv. Frederic R. Pamp received his J.D. degiee from New York University in lime He Iim s in Rockport, Mass. Mary Banchero Peltier ^\^^^ her hushaiui Charles, are parents of their lirst chikf, hd warcH, born January 26. Charles received his Ph.D. from the University of Notre Dame in 1973 and is teaching at St. Mary's College in Notre Dame, Ind. Betsey Remage is a counselor in the Otiice of Career Services and Off-Campus Learning at Harvard, Ellen Bouchard Ryan and her husband, Patrick (Ph.D.) are parents of their second child and first son, Dennis Patrick, born March 2. Ellen teaches psychology at Notre Dame, and Patrick is chaimian of the mathematics department at Indiana Univer- sity at South Bend. , William B. Spnllman and Barbara Sherman Hatch were married June 22 in London, Eng- land. Thev live in Boston, where Bill is w ork- ing toward his Ph.D. in physics from North- eastern University. Christoi'her /. Sumner is director and vice-president of Western Savings and Loan in Portland, Oreg. His wife, Molly, is an at- torney with the I'imi of Dezendorf, Spears, Luberskv, and Campbell. Robert L. Whittle and Janet Gorham w ere married June 1 in New London, N.H. They live in Watertown, Mass., and Robert is a systems analyst with the State Street Bank ot Boston. 46 /^Q Brian Bhicsacr has been awarded a \Jl7 Fulbnght-Havs Grant tor graduate stud\ in Bogota, Colombia, for the 1974-75 i academic vear. ' Robert H. Chambers HI (Ph . D. ), dean of [Yale's Dasenport College and assistant pro- jfessor of tnglish and American studies at 'Yale, has been appointed dean of the College of Arts and Sciences at Bucknell Universitv ' He began his work at Bucknell on a part-time basis in September and will assume full-tinie duties in Januan'. Waller C. Dolde, jr., a member of the facultv of Carnegie-Mellon University, re- ceived his Ph.D. degree in economics last year from Yale. ' Lt.{jg.) Herbert W. Foote (USN) has been 'designated a patrol plane commander in the Na\v's P3C aircraft, following a tvvo-vear training program. He is based in lackson- ville, Fla. John (Sc.M.) and Isabel Jackson Freeman of Belmont, Mass., are parents of their first child, Cvnthia Ellen, born June 9. j Ronald F. Games received his M.D. de- . gree from Albert Einstein College of Medi- cine in Mav and is doing his mternship in pediatrics at the Medical College of Virginia in Richmond Rita Chao Haiiden and her husband, Wil- bur (see (18), recentiv returned from Thai- land, where Bill was doing field research for his doctorate. Thev live in Coming, N.Y., where Rita is an applications programmer at the corporate headquarters of the Coming Glass Co. Man/ Ellen Hurln/ and Dr. Ravmond E. Garrett were married Mav 18. Mar\ Ellen is a graduate student in English literature at the Universitv of New Mexico. I Lawrence A. Johnson, who received his iM.S. degree from Harvard in 1973, is work- ing toward his Th.D in plant ecologv at the Universitv of Alaska's Institute of Arctic BiologN' in Fairbanks. Terry B. Katzman, who received her mas- ^ter's degree in humanistic psvchologv from ;West Georgia College in 1973, is working for •e psvcho-educational center in Carrollton, iGa. , as a consultant on behavior disorders in children. Frances A. Klukoioski and Richard VV. Beane were married March 24, 1973, in New- ton, Mass. jane Perry was maid of honor. Fran, who is working toward her M.B.A. de- gree from Boston Universitv, is a senior business systems analvst with the Digital 1 Equipment Corp. in Mavnard, Mass. It Cynthia Adams Luty is completing re- iquirements for her M.A. in English with a minor in psvchologv from Pennsxlvania State Universitv, Her husband, Carl, who received his Ph.D. in philosophs- from Penn State this vear, has accepted a teaching job at Hood College in Frederick, Md., for the 1974-75 academic vear. 1 Caleb L. McKee and Mia DiMartino were •married ]ul\' 20 in Narragansett, R.l. Alex- wder DiMartino '29 is the bride's father and Henry T. McKce '41 is the groom's father. Gregory W. DiMartino '68 was an usher. The ^VlcKees live in Naples, Fla. [ Barbara Gershon Ryder and her husband, j.'cnathan, are parents of their first child, Beth -^nn, bom June 28, 1973. They live in ^Vletuchen, N.J. Frances Korolenko Shabica (Ph.D., '66 Sc M ) has been appointed a research as- sociate in the school of oceanographv at Oregon State Universitv in Corvallis. Malcolm B. Sheldrick is an assistant vice- president with Freeman Securihes Co. in New York Citv He and his wife, Pamela, and their daughter, Rachel, 2, live in Morris- town, N.J. Scott D. Somers, u ho was discharged from the U.S. Naval Reserve in April 1972, is an assistant director of admissions at the Northwestern Universitv Graduate School of Management. Cordon M. Strauss, a law student at the Universitv of Cincinnati, spent the summer working for Willis D. Gradison, Jr , a candi- date tor t ongress from Ohio's First District. Michael M Sveda is working toward his Ph.D. at Albert Einstein College of Medicine, where he is studving the restriction and in- terference patterns of mouse RNA tumor viruses in tissue culture. He lives in Citv Is- land, N.Y, John F. Wilkinson and his wife, Jenny Littlepage Wilkinson '71, have returned to Washington, DC, where John is a person- nel management intern with the Department of the Navv. 70 Michael D. Abbott and Sharon / \J Hunt were mameci in June in Longmeadow, Mass. Michael Kelly was best man and Robert Anthony was an usher. The Abbotts live in Hinsdale, N.H., where Michael teaches high school. Thomas N. Bishop, who received his mas- ter's degree in geophvsics from the Univer- sitv of Washington, is a geophvsicist for Shell Oil in Houston, Texas, where he lives with his wife, Carol Cutshall Bishop (see '73). Charles F. Carroll (Ph.D.), an associate professor of historv at Massachusetts State College at Lowell, is the author of a recentiv published book. The Timber Economy of Puri- tan Neil' England. TommieC. Cayton, who received Jiis Ph.D. in psvchologv in August, is doing his internship in clinical psvcholog\' at the Wil- ford Hall U.S. Air Force Medical Center at Lackland AFB, San Antonio, Texas. Clark I. Chalifour (Ph.D., '67 A.M.), as- sistant professor of English at the State Uni- versity of New York, Oswego, has been ap- pointed director of that universitv's 1974-75 consorhum program in England, and is a vis- iting lecturer in the English studies depart- ment at the Universitv of Nottingham. Peter B. Coop and Deborah Ann Hill '71 were married April 26 in Brown's Manning Chapel. Attendants included Larry Tummino and Glenn Conoin '71. Peter and Debbv live in East Providence, R.l. Ian C. Crawford and Elizabeth Soukup were married June 7. Gary Waldron was an usher. Ian, a teacher at Regis High School in Denver, Colo., is a master's degree candidate at the Universitv of Denver. Christina L. Danvall, who is working tmvard her M.B.A. degree from Harvard Business School, was recenth' named a Mel- vin T. Copeland Award finalist there. Carolyn Ires Dingman and her husband, Joseph, moved to Irvine, Calif., earlier this vear. Carolvn is with the public relations firm of Gloria Zigner and Associates, and Joseph is an applications chemist with Beckman In- struments, Inc. rhe Rev. Enrico Carzilh (Ph D ) has joined the faculty of the North Ameru an Col- lege in Rome, Italy, as co-director of advisor, programs and acting dean of students He also teaches an interdisciplinary course m the doctiiral theolog\' program at Gtegori.m Universitv. Mark A Gcannetle received his J D de- gree from Cornell in Ud He lives 1" Reston, Va. Robert M. Gill. Jr., and his wife, Dodie, are parents ot a son, Ethan Carter, bom May 13. Thev live in Reston, Va . where Bob works for Gulf Reston, Ini , and Dodie works for the Arlington ( ountv School Svstem. .M. Ronald hreidnian ot Cambridge, Mass., received hisj D, degree from Boston University in June 1973 and is a law clerk for Chief lustice Joseph lauro ot the Massa- chusetts Supreme Court Alan M. Lei'ine received his M.D degree from Yale in Mav and is doing his surgical in ternship at the Universit\ ot t olorado .Mi'di cal Center in Denver Ellen T. Ogmtz is a student at Simmons School of Social Work in Boston. She was pre\ iouslv with Beth Israel Hospital in Boston as a secretar\' in the social service department and then as a case aide in the surgical service Patricia Hartley Partni>w has been awarded a Rockefeller Fellowship in iiiu seum education at the Mil de Young Museum in San Erantisco tor 1974-75 She was previoush' in Juneau, Alaska, working for the Alaska State Museum Keith A. Powers, who nxeiNed his J D. degree from thi- Universitv of Maine in 1973, IS an attornev w ilh the hrm of Preti and Flah- ertv in Portland, Maine Gt'cirtjc R. Sclilotterer is a research asso- ciate in the psvcholog\ department of the University of Toronto's Mental Retardation Center. George received his MA from the University of Toronto in 1972. Steven Alan Schonfeld received Jiis M.D. degree from the Universit\' of Rochester in Mav and is doing his medical internship at Rhode Island Hospital in Providence. Robert M. Sheets, who received his M.D. degree in Mav from the Bavlor College of Medicine, is interning in pediatrics at the Vallev Medical Center in Fresno, Calif. Ronald C. Silvestri received his M.D. de- gree from Harvard in June and is doing his medical intemship at the Universitv of Colorado Affiliated Hospitals in Denver. Michael L. SolUtto and Kathleen Thomas were married JuK' 6 in Feeding Hills, Mass. The\ live in Washington, DC, where Michael is employed bv the Intemal Revenue Service's Office of International Operations. Frederick j. Tansill received hisJ.D. de- gree from Georgetown Universitv this vear and is with the firm of Cross, Murphv and Smith in Washington, DC. David M. Tardy is a lecturer in economics at the Caulfield Institute of Technologv in Armadale, Victoria, Australia. He teaches microeconomics, economic growth, and mone\' and banking. Robert A. Walk, who received his M.B.A. degree from the Universitv of Pennsvlvania's Wharton School of Finance in Ma\', is with the Burroughs Corp. in Detroit. He and his 47 wife, Dciiys Crclzkou'ski Walk '72, live in Tro\', Mich. Lt. D. ScotI White (USAF) received his M.B.A. degree in Julv from Southern Illinois Universitv. He and his wife live in Charles- ton Heights, S.C., where Scott is a pilot in- structor. Stci>cu M. Ziicker, who received his Ph.D. in mathematics from Princeton in June, is sn assistant professor of mathemat- ics at Douglass College, New Brunswick, N.J. ^"1 Herbert ]. Belhicci and Lizheth Mar- / A. tin '72 were married June 1 in Floral Park, N.Y. Thev live in Los Altos, Calif. Scott C. Bush received hisJ.D. degree from the University of Connecticut in Mav. He lives in Hartford, Conn. Susan Crooks has been elected president of the M.B.A. Student Association at Stan- fords Graduate School of Business for the 1974-75 academic vear. She is the first woman ever elected to this position. Darrell D. Davidson is a student in the combined M.D. and Ph.D. program in phamiacologv at Tulane Universitv. Joan Davidson and Alan H. Maclin were married August 31, 1973, and are living in Roseville, Minn. Joan received her J.D. de- gree from the Universitv of Chicago in June and is with the firm of Moore, Costello and Hart in St. Paul, Minn. Edward G. Doucette received his M.A.T. in elementarv education from Rhode Island College in June. He teaches remedial math in grades two through five at the Kenvon Street Elementar\' School in Providence. Andrew L. Eisenherg, who received his J.D. degree in Mav from Columbia, is an at- tome\' with the law firm of Herrick, Smith, Donald, Farlev, & Ketchum in Boston. Jamie Evrard received her master's de- gree in art from the Universitv of Iowa in June and is continung her studies there for an M.F.A. in graphics and printmaking. Richard]. Forde, a second-vear medical student at Yale, spent the summer working at the Charleston Naval Hospital in Charles- ton, S.C. Louis A. Fucrtes II is a deput\' pro|ect manager at Urban Systems Research and Engineering, Inc., in Cambridge, Mass., where he works priniarilv in the field of air transportation planning. Louis received his master's degree in civil engineering in Feb- ruar\' 1973 from the Massachusetts Institute of Technologv. Laura Celler, Los Angeles, is stud\'ing for the Refomi rabliinate at the California School of the Hebrew Union College. Peter S. Guterman, who was co-captain of Brown's tennis team as an undergraduate, has been named executive director of junior tennis for the New England Lawn Tennis Association. He lives in Worcester, Mass. Deborah Ann Hilt and Peter B. Coop '70 were married April 26 in Brown's Manning Chapel. Attendants included Larr\i Tuniniino '70 and Glenn Corwin. Peter and Debbv li\'e m East Providence, R.I. Adele Kimura is a budget analvst with the state of Hawaii's department of budget and finance. She lives in Honolulu. Ricliard A. Martin graduated in June from the New York Universitv Law School, 48 where he was an editor of the Law Reiueii'. He is a law clerk to Chief Judge Jacob Mishler of the U.S. District Court in Brooklyn, N.Y. PhiUpi W. h4eyer, who received liis M.D. degree in Ma\' from the University of Ne- braska Medical Center, is a resident in pediatrics at the Children's Hospital in Philadelphia. Kun Mei/crs of Seattle, who has com- pleted requirements for her teaching cer- tificate from Western Washington State College, writes that she spent a year as an environmental educator in inner-city schools under the Program for Local Ser\'ice, "a Seattle- King County experiment under ACTION, sort of a local VISTA, which keeps people in their own locality but allows them to choose or design their own volunteer programs, find a sponsor, and write a con- tract with that sponsor for the vear." Kim also spent this summer, as last, mountain- climbing in the Peruvian Andes. Amy Grossman Nanm and her husband, Richard (see '68), are parents of a son, Joshua Adam, born on St. Patrick's Day. Amy is a teacher at a Je\vish day school in Boston. Susan L. Nusbaum's name was inadver- tently misspelled in the September B/4M. She and Leon Movie were manied in January and are both employed b\' PRC Data Services in Washington, D.C. Alfred K. Potter 11 is a sales engineer in Bethlehem Steel Corp.'s Chicago sales dis- trict. He and his wife. Linda, live in Naper- ville, 111. Elizabeth ]ones Price is an administrative assistant in the admissions oiiice at Wheaton College in Norton, Mass. Milton C. Schmidt, jr.. is an assistant hockey coach at the U.S. Militar\' Academ\', West Point, N.Y. Susan Whitesell Straiiber, w ho received her master's degree in art from Broxvn in June, is working toward her Ph D. in art his- tory at Brown. David A. Tillson, who received his M.B.A. degree from New York University in June, is a securities anahst with the General Reinsurance Corp. in New York City. Marilyn Lynn Watlcice and Larry H. Friedman were married June 9 in Pawtucket, R.l. Marilyn is an anahst in financial s\'stems development at the Old Stone Bank in Prov- idence, and Larry is a real estate manager with PM Industries in Providence. The\' live in East Providence, Jenny Littlepage Wilkinson and her hus- band, John '69, have returned to Washing- ton, D.C, where John is a personnel man- agement intern with the Department of the Navv. Daryl Dodson Wilson, Unionville, Conn., received her master's degree in anthropology from Weslevan University in lune. rr'^ Jean Braucher, a reporter for the / ^ Associated Press, has been trans- ferred from Portland, Maine, to the AP's State House bureau in Augusta. Charles S. Craig received his master's de- gree in British jurisprudence from Selwyn College of Cambridge University, England, in June. He lives in Birmingham, Mich. Raymond /. Di-oer, Jr., has been awarded a U.S. Public Health Service traineeship to study for his M.S. degree in environmental engineering at the California Institute of TechnologN'. He was formerh' with Con Edison in New York City. Penny C. Dixon is working in the Franklin Count\', Ohio, Common Pleas Courts, recording criminal proceedings on \ideotape. She repiirts that this is the fust pro|ect of its kind in the country. John R. Gleason, who received his M.B.A. from the University of Chicago in June, is employed bv the First National BaiiK of Chicago. Eileen S. Hallstrom (A.M.) and her hus- band, Alfred (see '68), are parents of a son, Philip Jacob Kohl, born May 24. Eileen received her A.B.D. degree in comparatm literature from the Universitv of Washingto and is now in Turkey, where Al teaches at Bosphorus University in Istanbul. Mark Dennis Jacobs and Janet B. Luss w ere married Ma\' 29 in Tarr\town, N.\ Mark is a medical student at Albert Einst.ii College of Medicine in New York City. John L. Jaworski and Sharon O'Brien were married in 1972 and live in Salem Mass. John is the freshman football coach and head basketball coach at his alma nvili.' Bishop Fenwick High School in Peabod\ Mass., where he also teaches psycholog\ and sociologN'. He reports that his baskelba team had a 20-4 record and made the Stati' Sectional Finals at Boston Garden last \eai, the best record in the school's history. Gerald P. Jones, New York Cit\-, is \m 1 1 ing toward his M.B.A. degree from Colum- bia University. Brenda Lockhart is a graduate student m anthropology at New York Universitv. Slu spent this past summer as an assistant ihlJ director of the Minnesota Historical Socii i\ Lizbeth Martin iind Herbert /. Bellucci 71 were married June 1 in Floral Park, N.^ Thev live in Los Altos, Calif. Zylpjha Pryor is a first-year dental stuJn at Meharrv Medical College in Nash\ille, Tenn, Alan Sparrow and Nanc\' Moog w-ere married June 23 in Bellport, N.Y. Thev li\ e i Rochester, N.Y., where Alan teaches at tlu' Harlev School and Nanc\' is on the facult\ o_ the Indian Landing Elementar\' School. Marilyn Ann Sperling and H. William Hochheiser (see '73) were married June 2 in Derby, Conn. Marilyn is working toward he Ph.D. degree in clinical psychology at the State University of New York at Sfonv Brook. ^7 ^ Jessica Price Bartis is xvith the de / k_7 partment of public affairs educa- tion programs at Cornell. Her husband is James T. Bartis (see '67). Carol Cutshall Bishop, who received her B.S. in ps\'cholog\' from the Universitv ot Washington in March, is a travel agent wit! Trans-Continental Travel in Houston, Te\a' where she and her husband, Thomas N. B/s/ui?! (see '70), live. Kenneth C. Cicplik ('74M.A.T.) and Paul McAuliffe were married in July in Rumfordf R.L Paula's father is FrerfcncAF. McAuliffe '53 The ushers were Daniel Cesarz '74, David \ Duhaime, Stei'e Frager '74, Roscoe Howard '74 Walter Haggstrom, and Louis Regine IIL Ken and Paula live in Paterson, N.J. Louis V. Colavecchio, a medical student a Brown, was the recipient this vear of a sun- nier research fellowship in dermatology I I supported b\' the National Program tor Der- iTiatologv and b\' Svntex Laboratories, Inc. I William D. Grossman, a second-vear stu- iient at Georgetown University Law Center, ';S a legal consultant to the Cable Television llnfomiation Center, The Urban Institute, in HVashington, D.C. Paul E. Hausmann is working toward his VI. S, degree at the Massachusetts Institute ot Technology's Sloan School of Management. H. William HLxhheiser and Marilyn Ann iperlmg (see '72) were married June 2 in Der- Oy, Conn. The\' live in Stonv Brook, N.Y., ivhere William is a graduate student at the State Uni\'ersit\' of \'ew York. Ruth Felicia Kissm and Edivard D. Klem- ■jard were married June 9. Thev live in Rve, N.Y. Hekn Kuhs (A.B., A.M.) and William T. Harwood were married August 13, 1973, in Pro\idence. Helen is working toward her Ph.D. in classics at the State University of New York at Buffalo. Cardc Tenmi Latson teaches chuldren with learning disabilities in the New Orleans, La. , .public schools. Her husband, Jon, is an English teacher at the Newman School. Kenneth E. Peters has been promoted to inuclear project engineer at the Electric Boat Division of General Dynamics in Groton, Conn. Richard C. Piper 111. Washington, DC, is |a policy research analyst for the National ■League of Cities U.S. Conference of Ma\ors. Beth G. Pomerantz received her masters degree in educational gerontology from the lUniversity of Michigan in .August. She lives in Rye, N.Y. Bruce G. Posner has joined the staff of The Daily Item in Port Chester, N.Y., as Port Chester-Rye town reporter. Paula L. Quesnel is working as a claims representative for the Social Security Ad- ministration in New Haven, Conn. Ruth E. Siegel (Sc.M), who received her IM.S. degree from Harvard Medical School, is la research assistant there in the department of pharmacology Robin R. Silcox is a commodities and -stockbroker trainee with the Clayton ■Brokerage Co. in Albuquerque, N. Mex. Carol E. Thompson teaches English and ihiston- at the high school level at L'Ecole d'Humanite in Goldern, Switzerland. Ed-ward R. Van Wet (Ph.D., '67 A.M.) is •chaimian of the nuidem languages depart- ment at Elizabethtown College in Pennsvl- Urania. Julia Wood is a member of the placement department at the Institute for Paralegal Training in Philadelphia. '^ /\ loan M. Diaz is in Sxvitzerland / ^t studying the relationship of tran- scendental meditation to psychology. Her parents are Eleanore Ursillo Diaz '43 and Joa- quin Diaz, jr. '45 Ph.D. James McKnight Donnelly III (A.M.) and Barbara S. Banik were married June 16 in Norton, Mass. They live in Providence. William Charles Mead and Patricia Ann Benevento were married June 7 in Bristol, Conn. James Burke was best man, and Mark Flynn was an usher. Glenn G. Perry and Doris E. Plante were mamed June 8 in North Scituate, R.I. Boetius SuUwan ser\'ed as best man, and Michael Di- Martino was an usher. Glenn and Dons live in Hartford, Conn. Stei^en Rasmussen and Frances Rcnce w ere married June 8 in Madison, Conn. Dr. Laura Roice Ment '70 was the matron of honor, and Ann Barry and Leone Cottrell were brides- maids. The Rasmussens live in Prcividence, where Steve is enrolled in the Brown Medical Program. Deaths Judith Hopkins Childs '06, '18 M.A., San Leandro, Calif., former director of visual education in the Providence School Depart- ment; September 22. After graduation, Mrs Childs taught at schools in Wethersfield, Conn., and then became assistant principal at East Pro\idence High School. She had been a Rumford, R.I., resident most of her life until moving to California several years ago. Her master's from Brown was in educa- tion and social science. Mrs. Childs' hus- band, Henn/ E. Childs '24 Sc.M., had died on September 8. Survivors include a son, Hen- ry, and a daughter, Ella Childs Swarth '41, of Oakland, Calif. Dr. Robert Holmes Whitmarsh '09, Fort Myers, Fla., former chief of surgery at Roger Williams General Hospital; August 19. Dr. Whitmarsh graduated from New York Medi- cal School in 1913 and then served as a major in the Army Medical Corps during World War I. Returning to Providence after the w ar, he entered practice \Mth his uncle. Dr. Henry A. Whitmarsh 1876, the founder of Roger Wil- liams Hospital, before striking out on his own. Dr. Whitmarsh \vas on the medical staffof Roger Williams from 1926tol9?l and was chief of surgery at the time of his retire- ment. He ser\'ed as president of the Rhode Island chapter of the American College of Surgeons and, during retirement, was presi- dent of the school committee and historical societ\- in Little Compton, R.I. Phi Delta Theta. Survivors include his wife, Gladys Frost Whitmarsh, Shell Point Village, Fort Myers; a son, William, and a daughter, Marjorie Whitmarsh ^ oung. Robert Gamble Caswell 11, 12 Sc.M, 14 Ph.D., North Kingstown, R.L, retired pro- fessor and consultant, August 26. Mr. Cas- well w as an instructor of chemistn,' at Brown from 1911 through 1914, while earning his advanced degrees in organic chemistn.'. After serving on the facult\' of Colby College, he worked for E.I. du pont de Nemours and Company in Wilmington, Del., during World War 1, where he directed special proj- ects. During the 1920s, Mr. Caswell was as- sistant to the president at both W.B. Pratt, Inc., and Hood Rubber. For thirty years prior to his retirement in 1962, he was a consultant to various corporation and government pro- grams in many parts of the world. Sigma Xi, Sigma Nu. Survivors include his \yife, Mar- garet Watson Caswell, 94 Main St., North Kingstown; a daughter, Margaret Casivell Lewis '37, and a son, Robert. Tliomas Hmvarth Roberts '13, '14 Sc.M., Cranston, R.L, retired director and vice- president of Arnold Hoffman Co. and a pioneer in the American dvestuffs industr\'; September 13. Due to the absence of a domestic source of dvestuffs during World War I, Mr. Roberts decided to apph' his train- ing in chemistrs' to this field. B\' the end of the war he had a dvestuffs manufacturing plant in operation in East Providence. He loined .Arnold Hoffman Co. as a chemist in 1923 and remained with that firm until his re- tirement in 19?5. During World War II and the Korean War, he served on three adyisor\' committees on industr\' for the federal gov- ernment. Shortly after his retirement in 1955, Mr. Roberts and his wife bought a \illa in Itah' and traveled extensively throughout Europe. Phi Beta Kappa, Sigma Xi, and Sigma Nu. Survivors include three sons, Thomas '39, Stuart '44, and James '50. Harold Winthrop Tucker '15, Barrington, R.L, retired vice-president and secretar\' of Wallace & Tucker Lumber Co., Providence; September 2. Mr. Tucker was a member of the Barrington Town Council from 1934 to 1938 and then ser\'ed four terms as a state representative. As deputy Republican tlocir leader of the Rhode Island House, Mr. Tucker was an outspoken advocate of keep- ing Narragansett Bay clean some thirty years before ecolog\' became popular. During World War II, Mr. Tucker served overseas for eighteen months with the 103rd Field Artil- ler\', including nine months as a prisoner of war. He was a past president of Associate Industries of Rhode Island. Delta Tau Delta. Survivors include his wife, Auldice Currier Tucker, 3 Woodmont Ct., Barrington; a son, Winthrop; a daughter, BeverU ; and two sis- ters, including MiiKii Tucker MacLeod '14. William Henry Managan. Jr. '16, Lake Charles, La., retired president and general manager of Krause and Managan Lumber Co., Sulphur, La.; August 12. He received a bachelor of arts degree from Baylor Uni\'er- sit\' in 1915, his bachelor of philosophy from Brown a year later, and then did graduate work at Rice University. Mr. Managan saw active service in France during World War 1 with the 23rd Engineers and later traveled widely in Europe. Survivors include his wife, Frances Williams Managan, 220 Wilson Ave., Lake Charles, a son and two daughters. Walter Austin Cooper '17, Attleboro, Mass., long-time dair\' farmer; September 19, 1973. Shortly after graduation, Mr. Cooper entered the Arm\' and ser\ed two years in France in some of the major campaigns of World War 1. Before returning to this country, he took courses at the University of Montpelier in France. Mr. Cooper took over the family dairy farm in Attleboro and operated it until the time of his death. He is survived b\' four children, including A/berf B. Cooper '51, 41 Rose Glen St., Stoughton, Mass.; a brother, Harry '31, of Westport, Mass.; and a sister, Helen Cooper Delano '21, of Pompano Beach, Fla. Fra)icis Metcalf '18, Sarasota, Ha., former cotton mill agent; August 24. Mr. Metcalf was a lieutenant in the Air Force during World War I. In recent years, heownedares- 49 Hubbell Robinson '27 A "wanderer in the wasteland" Whfii Hubboll Robinson '27 was a senior at Brow n he still was engaged in what he liked to describe as his "life and death" struggle with freshman math. Some thirty years later, the same Hubbell Robinson was handling a $12-million package deal of thirty-nine television spectaculars. Big money in the television industry is usually associated with the mass-audience shows that delight sponsors. And Robin- son had his share of high-rating programs — "I Love Lucy," "Youll Never Get Rich" (bet- ter known as the Sergeant Bilko Show, star- ring Phil Silvers), "Gunsnwke," "Perry Ma- son," and "87th Precinct." Still, Hubbell Robinson was alwavs an outspoken and creative champion of C|uality programming. The productions he was most proud of included some of the biggest shows of TV's Golden Years — "Playhouse 40," "The Seven Lively Arts," "20th Century," "Stage 67," "See It Now," and "Four Star jubilee." A reticent, soft-spoken gentleman with a jack-o-lantern smile, Hubbell Robinson, who brought a sense of c-]uality and a touch of class to the television industry for a c]uar- ter century, died September 4 of lung cancer in his sixty-ninth year. Born in Schenectady, N'.Y., Robinson was a direct descendant of Samuel Robinson, who founded Bennington, Vt., in 1710. After graduation from PhiUips Exeter Academy and after winning his battle at Brown with freshman math "in a very close decision," Robinson worked as a reporter and a re- viewer of motion pictures in New York be- fore joining Young and Rubicam, Inc., in 1928 as a messenger boy. His salary then was $25 a week. At the height of his career in the Hubbell Robinson: A foe of blandncss. television industn , Robinson was earning $250,000 a year. Radio was in its heyday during the 1930s, and Young and Rubicani's clients sponsored some of radio's biggest stars — Jack Benny, Fred Allen, and Helen Hayes. Robinson's rise in the firm was swift. Succes- sively he was script writer, assistant to the head of the radio department, radio produc- tion head in 1938, and director of all program planning and talent buying in 1939. Robinson was vice-president of Young and Rubicam in 1944 when he left the agency to become vice-president and director of programs for ABC. Three vears later he joined CBS as vice-president and director of all programming. In 1951 he became vice- president in charge of programs for the CBS Television Network and four years later he became CBS-TV's executive vice-president in charge of all network programs. Imaginative, independent, and quietly aggressive, Hubbell Robinson had become a recognized leader among those who fought for c]uality programming in network television. He was a vigorous opponent of what he once described in TV Guide as the "morass of mediocrity, a weekly shambles of violence and villainy, a belt-line assemblage of repetitive inanity." After a celebrated run-in with CBS Pres- ident James T. Aubrey, Jr., Robinson left CBS in 1959 to form Hubbell Robinson Pro- ductions. Seven vears later he joined ABC-TV as executive producer of "Stage 67." Early in his career, Robinson wrote arti- cles and satires ior Esquire, Seribner's, and other magazines. More recently, he had writ- ten widely (or Teleinswn Quarterly and Dip- loniat, among others. His autobiography, Wanderer in the Wasteland, completed shortly before his death, will be published by G. P. Putnam's Sons early in 1975. Robinson was an alumni trustee of Brown and served as a director of the Na- tional Parkinson's Disease Society, the Na- tional Football Hall of Fame, the Brown Club in New York, and the Brown Football As- sociation. There were three marriages in his life — to Therese Lewis, a writer; Margaret Whiting, the singer; and Vivienne Segal, the musical comedy star, from whom he was legally separated in 1962. There are no chil- dren. In the days when he v\'as riding high as one of the biggest names of the then- snowballing TV industry, Robinson was asked to define his creed. "If you try to play it safe," he said, "you alwaysend up bland." During his quarter century with the indus- try, Hubbell Robinson was never bland. J.B. taurant Delta Phi. Survivors include his wife, Arlene Bethel Metcalf, 2903 Webber St., Sarasota; and a son, Richard. Henry Everett Childs '24 Sc.M., San Leaiv dro, Calif., retired teacher at St. Georges Schoc>l, Newport, R.I.; Septembers. A graduate of the University of Rochester, Mr. Childs served as supervisor of visual educa- tion in the Providence School System and a- aquatic instructor at the Providence YMC.A before joining the faculty at St. George's School in 1958 as a biology teacher. His u ile, Judith Hopkins Childs '06, died September 22 Survivors include a son, Henrv, and a daughter, Ella Childs Suwth '41, of Oakland Calif. Charles Herbert Taylor, ]r. '24, Rumford, R.I., retired teller with Industrial National Bank of Providence; August 28. Mr. Ta\ lor was active in Masonic organizations in Rhode Island. Sur\'ivors include his widow , Barbara Tlwnipson Taylor, 95 Weeden Aw Rumford, and a daughter, Cynthia Ta\loi Hill. Margaret Bennett Stickhy '25 M.A., Wake- field, R.I.; September 18. Mrs. Stickle\' w.in ^ graduate of St. Elizabeth's College, Con\en Station, N.J. William Abbott jepherson '26, Temple, Maine, operator of a lumber compan\' on Broad St., Providence, for many years; JiiK 26. He also ran a dairy farm. Survivors in- clude his wife, Helen Lincoln Jepherson, ut Temple, and a son, George. Raymond Shaw Lees '26, Tenafly, N.J., vice-president of Lawler Hosiery Mills of Carrollton, Ga., and New York City; Jul\ I: Sigma Nu. Survivors include his \vife. Geraldine Mallory Lees, 107 Buckingham Rd.,Tenatly. Warren Yeaio Hull '27, Vaughn, Wash., former president of North Pacific Bank Not Co., Tacoma; .August 17. Tony Hull joined the North Pacific Bank Note Co. in 1928, be came president in the 1950s, and held that position until the firm was sold in 1972. He became vice-chaimian of the board of the new company. Print Northwest. He was a past director of Pacific First Federal Saving! and Loan Association and served on its board for thirt\-five years. Mr. Hull was th son of the late Wi/Ziam H. Hull '01. While in college, Tony Hull was captain of the swim ming team and an AIl-American fancy divei 1 heta Delta Chi. Survivors include his wife Lotys Hull, Route l-Bo\ 167A, Vaughn; a son. Kirk; and a daughter, Nancy Hull Ha gans. Ci/n7 Lester Berkelhammer '40, Pro\'idence, president and treasurer of General Wine Cc Pawtucket and East Providence; Septembe 3. Mr. Berkelhammer was a member of the board of directors of Wine & Spirits Wholesalers of America. Sur\'ivors include his wife, Anne Rossman Berkelhammer '44, 4'. Barbour Dr., Providence; and two sons, Robert and Larr\'. ( 50 Bridging the gap between 1949 and 1974 Editor: Bravo, Mark Spilka! In the re- print of vour address, "Inhaling the seeds of change" (BAM, September), you have caused mv four wonderful \'ears at Bro\vn to come alive once again, and you have helped to reaffinn mv faith in a great university. As one of those who earned "the unique degree in English Expression," I had the op- portunity to work with and learn from Ben Brown, Janice Van de Water, Frank Druni- mond, Walter Boughton, and Leslie Allen Jones (the latter two, regretfulh', not men- tioned in vour address). I have had the great good fortune to work for the past twent\-five vears as a di- rector and stage manager in the professional theatre, and 1 would like the world to know that in mv dav-to-day activities, I am still ver\' much influenced by Ben Brown and Leslie Allen Jones (with a very strong flavor- ing of m\- later mentor, the great George Abbott). .Vlanv thanks for bridging the gap be- tween 1949 and N74. GEORGE ECKERT 50 Holhiwood, Calif. The "new" Brown? Editor: The "new" Brow n, based on the score with Holy Cross, bears a strikmg and unfortunate resemblance to the "old" Brown. The "old" Brown, as a svmbol of football weakness and letharg\', commenced during m\' freshman vear (1935), when even URI won for the first time. PHIL FEI\'ER 313 San Francisco, Calif. Klutzes have rights, too Editor: In sailing, at least, it cannot be maintained that women are too weak or too ill prepared to be on the men's team. Even in 1957, when I sailed for Pembroke, this was not so, as some of us beat members of the men's team on the rare days when we raced them in fun. The intercollegiate sailing as- sociation has barred women in the past. This contradicts Title IX and should be challenged bv Brown. In this wa\' Brown would be spared the expense of a separate but "equal " women's program. Brown should not recruit men or women for their athletic ability, but should provide good athletic programs for every student. even if he or she is a klutz. Klutzes also have the right to have athletic money spent on them, because their bodies, like the star foot- ball player's, are an inseparable part of their lives. An effort should be made to teach some sports as non-competitive activities, which sailing can also be. VVh\' shouldn't the soaring, cycling, and wilderness-canoeing people get some of the monev mindlessly al- lotted to the great god football, which in 1959 still tyrannized not only our athletic lives but our social lives as well? FRANCES GIBSON DUCKETT '59 Roosei'elt. N. / Kudos to Sandy Reeves Editor: Sandra Reeves' article. Journal of an Intellectual Vacation" (BAM, Sep- tember) is a very commendable report of the "Summer of '74." She documented Professor Cassill's symposium on creative writing so well that I found myself re-e\penencing those lively sessions. Ms. Reeves in her article also caught the flavor and atmosphere of the entire week which Sallie Riggs and her staff conducted so successfully. ELEANOR FELDMAN HORVTTZ '41 Providence, R. I. Thatched huts in Samoa Editor: 1 heard recentl) that some 900 of us Brunonians are on leave of absence. Could that be true — one fifth of the Brown community? I could believe it; I've been read- ing their names in guest books in Fijian hotels, seeing their photos tacked up in thatched huts in Samoa, even met two Pem- broke friends in a train station in Wellington, New Zealand. A prevailing attitude among other Brown wanderers (I'm beginning a second year of absence) with whom I've spoken is that, although there are no regrets about the time off, and although it is a very worthwhile and opening expenence, there is some troubling indecision over whether one is AWOL from the pragmatic realities (such as getting the college degree and the job) or is actually finding what is real and what mat- ters (the real world, personal balance, the simple life, or just a better relationship to learning). I would ver\' much like to see an article on the returnees, or those contemplat- ing a return to academia, in which the focus IS on the factors influencing the return and the resulting adjustment process. I'm sure you'd have no trouble getting the material, if you could contact the people — the\' proba- bly aU have a lot to sa\' and would be happy to talk about their experiences, thoughts, de- cisions to leave and return, etc. And, by the way, could you send me a recent copy of the Monthly? I'd like to re- fresh my sense of Brown, pick up cm the changes since I left. At the moment I'm try- ing to figure out whether or not to come back next year. JOQUIN BRANT '76 Honolulu. Hatcaii The registrar's office figures show that, as offune 1974, 287 students were on leave of absence, studying abroad, withdraicn from school, etc. - Editor Send firecrackers Editor: At the nsk of being told to "mind my own business," I suggest that some im- portant element or officer at Brown is "fast asleep " Crew is the one sport at Brown which has kept your name among the athletic elite for several years — yet notoiif crewman re- ceived the current "Hall of Fame" Award, as indicated on page 56 of your September issue. Shall I send some "firecrackers," or refer it to someone who is awake to the realities at Brown^ CLIFFORD GOES Hackt-ttstrnm. N. ]. Reader Goes, although not a Broivu aluinuus. is a long-time supporter of Broivn rowing. -Editor 51 Good news and bad news in fall season As Johnny Carson likes to say on his nightly TV show, "Tonight we have some bad news and some good news." That's about the wav it was through the first half of the fall sports season. The bad news is that the football team, of whom much was expected, could \\ in but one of its first five games, although the Bears did win the battle of statistics against four of its opponents and exhibit a defensive corps that was tough to run against and exciting to watch. The good news is that the soccer team got off to a 7-0 start and showed signs of being one of the best in Brc:>wn's history. . . . Water polo, only in its sec- ond season, knocked off some of the more established teams and was 8-3. . . . And women's tennis had a perfect 7-0 slate through the first half of the season. Football: Frustration The football season was a real frustration. As a result of a strong finish last season, and with most of the team coming back, hopes were high for 1974. There was even talk of the Bruins being contenders for the Ivv title. So what went wrong? Well, for one thing there may have been too much pre-season publicity. The Brown coaches and alumni want a winner so badU' that there is a tendency to grab at straws. Realisticallv, the talk this fall about an Iv\' title had to be a bit premature. You don't take a program that shows nine victories in six years — onh' four of them Ivy victories — and turn out an "instant" Ivy champion. True, the Bears played well last year, and played with a certain flair, but they also may have caught a few people by surprise. The league was ready for Coach Anderson and his team this time around. There are other problems. The of- fensive line isn't as strong,as it \\as a year ago due to the loss of three fine players — second team All-Ivy center Mike Cassidv and first team All-Ivy tackle Steve Frager, lost through grad- uation; and promising junior guard 52 Mark Sedgwick, a b' 1", 203-pound all- state performer from St. Louis who un- derwent knee surger\' as the result of a summer accident. There are other theories. One is that the offensive unit lacked team lead- ership on the field. Another is that the constant pressure Pete Beatrice was under at Holy Cross, resulting in six sacks and four interceptions, caused him to lose his confidence, especialh' in his passing. It's certainh' fair to suggest that the 1973 team, with nowhere to go but up, played in a free, easy, and swinging style. This year, with hopes high, there was much more pressure. Brown foot- ball teams, at least in recent years, are not accustomed to playing under this sort of pressure. This may have been a factor in the two close defeats. Statistics point out one other prob- lem with a Brown offense that produced onl\- seven touchdowns in five games, with six of those TDs coming against URL In 1973 Coach Anderson's team had a truK' balanced offense, 1,458 yards running the ball and 1,178 pass- ing, a difference of only 280 yards. Through the first five games this fall, the Bears had a respectable 907 yards on the ground but only 511 in the air. Brown averaged 3.3 varcis per rush- ing attempt a year ago, as compared with 3.1 this season. This isn't a sub- stantial difference, and certainly isn't enough of a drop-off to account for the Bruins' going without a touchdown on three successive weekends against Penn, Yale, and Dartmouth. The nub of the matter is that a \ear ago the forward pass was Brown's big play — the play that got a drive started, kept it going, or finished it off. This \'ear the pass has been a sometime thing, thrown infrec]uentl\' and then usually on third-down-and-long-yardage situa- tions. And without the pass as an inte- gral part of the offense, the team hasn't had the balance needed to put heavy pressure on an opponent and finish off scoring drives. Brown has had some success run- ning the option-pitch offense from the veer, a ball-control offense that has given the Bears good chunks of yardage in the middle of the field. But the yard; are harder to come by nearer the goal line, especially for a team that runs the ball on 76 percent of its pla\s and passes onh' 24 percent of the time. "The offense we ended up with over the first half of the season isn't m\ offense," Anderson said. "No way. Yv& never been in favor of conservative football. That's not my style. I've alway: aimed at having my teams ain the ball about 60 percent of the time and pass 4C percent. "And when we pass, 1 like to see Thii teas the Dartmouth game: Not miu! , •'. :- r that pass thrown on first down, when t the opposition isn't looking for it. The ; element of surprise means a great deal I in football. And vou don't surprise an\- one when vou do what we did against Dartmouth: 21 first-down situations during the first three periods and pass on first down onlv twice." Anderson's theory about college ■ football is that the game should belong to the plavers as much as possible. As a 1 suit, he has always tried to establish a b\stem whereb\' the quarterbacks call their own pla\s, based on detailed dis- cussions the\' haye held with the 1)1 either side, iiist a mass of liumaiuh/ m the middle of the hue. coaches during the week. In theor\', this concept is sound. However, it doesn't always work. Anderson hinted at mid- season that he would send in many of the plays, at least for the balance of the season. If the offense had its troubles early this fall, the defensive unit was playing with pride and keeping the team in most of the games. Using a variety of defenses, and hitting with stunts and blitzes. Brown's defense held Holy Cross to five first downs in the opener and limited URl to one first down in the first half. Against an explosive Penn team. Brown led in first downs, 18-10, and rushing yards, 200-76. The Bears held Yale, perhaps the league's best team, to a 17-17 tie on first downs and outrushed the Elis, 200-185. The Bruins held Dartmouth to ten first downs and completely shut off the running game, except for one key play. "The best part of the two defensive units that we've been using is that 19 of the 22 men will be back next year," An- derson says. "We took some of our best athletes and put them on defense this year, feeling that defense is where you 53 start when vou talk about building a football program. In the long run, I feel that this theory will pav off." After splitting with Holv Cross and URl (BAM, October), Brown started three weeks of frustration with the Penn game at Brown Field. The Bears won all the battles but lost the war when, with 2:52 remaining and Brown ahead, 9-7, Adolph Bellizeare took a punt and re- turned it 61 yards for the game-winning touchdown. Brown had stayed in the game on three field goals by Jose Violante, one a 49-yarder that set a new Bruin record for distance. The old mark was 48 yards, set by Violante a year ago. His other three- pointers came from 47 and 36 yards out. Yale beat Brown big, 24-0, and yet the game could have broken either way in a yery close first half. Before Yale was even on the board, the Bears should have been ahead, 10-0. A first-period drive went 73 yards in 16 plays but died at the Eli ten when a pitch-out went astray. Later, a Violante field-goal at- tempt was foiled when Beatrice couldn't handle the snap from center. Yale scored late in the second period on a breakdown in the Bruin secondary, added a field goal at 14:59, and increased the lead to 17-0 with a third-period TD. This set the stage for a weird series of events. First, Brown drove 75 yards down the field in 21 plays, eating up 8:41 on the clock, only to miss a first down at the Yale four by inches. Then Yale punted from its end zone. Brown blocked the kick, a Brown player caught the ball on the Yale four, fumbled it when hit, and the Elis got the ball back — all on one play. Violante was Brown's entire of- fense against Dartmouth. His second- period field goal gave the Bears a 3-0 lead and then, after the Big Green had gone ahead, 7-3, the junior kicking specialist cut the deficit with still another field goal in the opening min- utes of the third period. The Bears had wasted one scoring opportunity with a fumble at the Dart- mouth 14 two plays after recovering a fumble there. But the game hinged on a series of plays early in the fourth period. Brown got a break when a pass interference call gave them the ball, first and goal, at the Dartmouth six. With Violante available, it looked as though Brown had at least three points and a 9-7 victory against a Big Green team that shciwed none of the old Bob Black- man magic on offense. It wasn't to be. A pitchout lost a yard, Beatrice retreated deep and was tossed for a 15-\'ard loss, and a running play was stopped. Violante's field-goal effort from the Dartmouth 26 started straight and then curved just to the out- side of the left goal post. It was Brown's last chance. So, by the evening of October 19, the football season that had started so optimistically was in danger of going down the drain. But at a press luncheon four days after the Dartmouth game. Coach John Anderson took strong ex- ception to a suggestion in the Pnrvidcucc Jouninl that producing winning football at Brown was "probabh' a hiipeiess job." "I said at the start of the season that Brown would be a contender," Ander- son said, "that we would be comperiHve with any team we play. Well, we're ob- viously not going to be a contender this \'ear — but we have been in every Ivy League game and probably should have won two of them. "We have good personnel on our freshman team and to get it, we beat out every team in our league for the key kids except one — Harvard. The coaches and alumni went out and re- cruited some fine people, at least two solid quarterbacks, six amning backs with more speed than we've had at Brown in years, and three outstanding defensive backs. Those who say we can't compete in the recruiting game with the Big Three and Dartmouth just don't know what they're talking about. "We aren't giving up on this pro- gram. We're just starting. We're going to win at Brown and we're going to win big. Winning at Brown isn't hopeless at all. But first you have to build the foun- dation. And that's what we're doing right now." Soccer: Not yet great It isn't natural for a coach to be un- happ\' when his team is undefeated and ranked fourth nationally. But Bruin soc- cer coach Cliff Stevenson was unhappy. The time was two days before his Bruins took on undefeated UConn, then ranked tenth nationally and the school that leap-frogged past Harvard in recent years to do battle with Brown each fall for soccer supremacy in New England. Stevenson has been a coach for 23 years. And his record will stand up well with anyone — 43 victories in a row at one point while at Oberlin, 25 straight Ivy victories and six consecutive Ivy ti- tles at Brown. "Sometimes these kids don't understand that I've been around a bit," Stevenson was saying before the UConn game. "They think I started coaching the moment they arrived on campus. Even though we were winning all our games, there were things that bothered me this fall. One player would be late for practice, another would miss the training meal without an excuse, and one kid even forgot his shoes on the way to a game. "But it was more than that. We just weren't ninning through our drills crisph". The boys were cocky. The 7-0 record had gone to their heads. They had reached the point in the season where the\- felt that all the\' had to do was shciw up and the other team would fall down and play dead." Stevenson may have spotted some- thing everyone else missed in a season that had seen the Bears dominate the opposition and beat one team, Boston University, by the biggest score in the school's history, 18-1. One thing was certain — Brown wasn't ready for the fired-up Connecticut team it met at Storrs October 23 before 6,000 wildly cheering fans. Brown outshot the Hus- kies, 19-12, outplayed them by a slight margin through most of the game, but lost, 1-0, on a broken-plav goal five minutes before the end. Nomially you don't hear of busted plays in soccer. But that's what hap- pened at Storrs. A Connecticut forward harmlessly headed the ball toward the cage, hoping someone else would pop it in. Goalie Mike Hampden came out, hit the rolling ball with his hand, saw it spin off and dribble into the corner of the cage. "Maybe it was good to get the monkey off our back," Stevenson said. "Too many people were talking of an undefeated season, an Ivy title, and a trip to St. Louis for the nationals. I don't mind the alumni dreaming about these things. But when the pla\ers start think- ing ahead to a national title — well, maybe a defeat along the way can serve a purpose. Maybe the boys have learned to take them one at a time." The highlight of the season through the first eight games was the sensational Sensational sophomore Fred Perreira (in actioti against Anny) has already broken Brown's single-season seoring record. 54 play of sophomore Fred Perreira {BAM, October), who in half a season broke a Brown scoring record that had been on the books for 38 years — the record for most goals in one season: 15, shared by Bill Margeson '37, Alan Young '64, and Bill Frost '74. Perreira started fast, scoring four goals in each of his first two games against PC and Boston University. After six games he had put the ball into the net 13 times. The record was broken in the Dartmouth game. After the Indians had tied this one, 2-2, early in the sec- ond half, Perreira went to work, adding his second and third goals within a six-minute span. His hat-trick goal iced the game and broke the Brown record "There's no question Perreira gives us the big scorer we haven't had in m\- time at Brown," Stevenson says. "The boy can do it all. And to top it off, he has a wonderful disposition." Perreira would have to have a good disposition to weather the abuse he has taken on the field this fall. His legs are covered with cleat marks and his bod\- is black and blue from all the attention he has drawn from opposing teams. Tom Griffith, the Dartmouth soccer coach, was still shaking his head min- utes after the game ended. "That bo\'," he said, pointing to Perreira, "is ven' probably the best sophomore soccer plaver in the United States." But even a Fred Perreira can be stopped. Connecticut had good luck stopping him by applying the ciouble- team, a fullback assigned to him plus the sweeper back. Perreira still got his shots, two of which hit the post, but the ball didn't go in and Brown didn't \\ in the game. "We've got a good team this fall," Stevenson said. "We're small, but it's a good team. I think, though, that we're a year away from being a great team." Women's Tennis: Undefeated If you look back through the old is- sues of the Bruii Mael, you'll find that tennis has the best tradition of all the women's sports at Brown. And yet, there has never been an undefeated season to celebrate. This fall, things may be different. Coach Joan Taylor's team moved through its first seven matches without a loss, in the process showing its abilit\' to win the close ones. "We slipped by Springfield and Trinity, each by 5-4 scores," savs Coach Tax lor. "The Yale match could have been a lot tighter than the 6-3 score would indicate. Their number-one plaver was taking her law boards that da\'." The number-one plaxer on the Brown team is Nancy Fuld '76 of New- York City. Nancy played in many New York state tournaments in high school and earned a junior ranking. She was undefeated through the first seven matches this fall. The captain of the team is Martha Zeiger '75, a resident of Cumberland and a graduate of Providence's Classical High. Martha is the number-three sing- les player and also plays doubles. "Martha has been on the team four years," Coach Ta\lor savs. "She was one of the faithful back when we could just about scrape up enough girls to put a team on the court." The other leading player is Julie McClure '76 of Grosse Pointe, Mich. She pla\s at No. 2. Julie plaved com- petitively in Michigan during her school \ears and was ranked a junior. Tennis is now plaved in both fall and spring at Brown — and no longer is it necessary to go from dorm to dorm to pull a team together. "It's actualK' vePi* exciting," says Coach Taylor, who has been at Brown for five years. "Now we have girls ap- plying to Brown who specifically ask about our tennis program, whom we play, and how well we do. 1 think per- haps this is the result of the expanded sports programs for girls in the high schools." Coach Ta\lor may be excited about those phone inquiries, but she has no interest in becoming involved in the re- cruiting game. "I'd hate to think that women's sports would reach the stage where we would be fighting each other to recruit female athletes," she says. "My interest is working with the kids. That's the fun part of coaching." Scoreboard (Sepitciubcr 22-Novcnilvr 9) Varsity Football (3-4) Holy Cross 45, Brown 10 Brown 45, URl 15 Penn 14, Brown 9 Yale 24, Brown Dartmouth 7, Brown 6 Brown 19, Princeton 13 Brown 16, Cornell 8 Varsity Soccer (11-1) Brown 4, Providence Brown 18, Boston University 1 Brown 2, Penn Brown 5, URI 1 Brown 2, Yale Brown 3, Springfield 1 Brown 5, Dartmouth 3 UConn 1, Brown Broun 5, Army 1 Brown 1. Amherst Brown 3, Princeton Brown 2, Cornell 1 Varsity Cross Country (2-4) Brown 27, Yale 28 PC 17, Brown 58, URl 68 Har\'ard 17, Brown 47 Dartmouth 18, Brown 43 Fordham 19, Brown 44 Tenth at Hops Varsity Water Polo (13-7) Yale 10, Brown 9 Brown 11, Harvard 10 Brown 6, Fordham 5 Army 11, Brown 7 Brown 11, MIT 4 Brown 15, Dartmouth 3 Brown 10, Southern Connecticut 6 Brown 12, Har\-ard 10 Broxvn 11, MIT 8 Brown 5, Fordham 4 Yale 13, Brown 6 Brown 9, Northeastern 4 Brown 12, Harvard 6 Brown 8, MIT 4 Yale 8, Brown 4 North\\estern 13, Brown 12 Loyola 10, Brown 5 Brown 6, Fordham 4 Brown 10, Bucknell 4 Yale 7, Brown 4 Second in New Englands Fourth in Easterns Women's Varsity Field Hockey (4-4-2) Connecticut Coll. 5. Broxvn Trinity 3, Brown 1 URl 4, Brown 1 Brown 2, UConn 2 Yale 3, Brown 1 Brown 6, Radcliffe 2 Brown 2, Bates 2 Brown 3. Barrington College Brow n 4, VVesle\'an 1 Brown 1, Wheafon Varsity Women's Tennis (9-0) Brown 8, Connecticut College 1 Bro\s'n 5, Trinity 4 Brown 7, VVRl 6 Brown 5, UConn 4 Brown 5, Wheaton Brown 6, Y'ale 3 Brown 5, Springfield 4 Brown 7, Bates Brown 4, Boston College Fourth in New Englands Women's Varsity Volley Ball (2-2) AlC 2, Brown Westfield 2, Brown Brown 2, SMU 1 Brown 2, Brxant 1 56 !.li.''.';i;'i.'\'.vi'