JOHNF. BARRY. JR. Tlus is tlic summer \(.)u\'c promised to stay close to home . . . spend some time witli the kid: . . . watch vour pennies . . . read more books, etc., etc. T.,^ ].,.,; bogi Summer of '75 —June 29 to July 5 It's a tamil\ vacation, an educational expenence, a Bicentennul start-up kit ;ill in one. It's vour chance to tuni the long Fourth ot }ul\' wcvkend into an awakening and a cele- bration ... to |oume\' to Newport, Pl\mouth, and Providence on a h\'e-da\' adventure into Americana that will give vou a head start on Julv 4. 1776. What's in store tor ^'ou.' Five ctivs ot conversations, (.liscTJSSK>ns, discovenes. CBS's Walter Cronkitc will talk ot America toda\'. Anthropolog)' protessor Jim Deetz will take you through Plimoth Plantations, the onginal Pilgrim village. Brown's tounding tamilv's great grandson, John Nicholas Brown, will invite you to his Newport home to talk ot one tamil\'s role in the Amencin Revolution. Protessors Van Nostrand, Mclx)ughlin, Buhle and Wood will talk literature, religion, cTilture, and histon' in tliat eariier time ot change and challenge. For contnist and turther stimulation vou will also take part in arts workshops in music, art, wnting and film with Protessors Shapiro, Feldman, Schevill ami Jungels. Sign up now tiir Brown's unic^ue summer college. Get the road ntips out for the drive back to College Hill, tor a dunce to review the Amencan E.xperience . . . ;is it existed in 1620 at Plimoth Plantations . . . .ls it eviilved in the events ot 1776 . . . .ts it expresses itselt in so m.in\' difterent wa\s todav. (^ome, celebrate together. And at prices a Ben Franklin would appreciate: Adult resi- dents, SITS; Adult commuters, $125; Children 3 to 15, $125; Children 3 to 6 on a cot in parents' room, $100. So put the dates on your ailendar - June 29 to July 5. Talk it over with the tamil\- tonight. And send in the coupon below to reserve \'our spaces. ( Registratit)ns are taken on a hrst come, tirst seized b;isis. Deposits are non-rctundable after May 31.) n Yes, reserve spaces for me and my family in tlie Summer of '75. I am sending a deposit ot J50 each, enclosed. Please send me more intormation. Name class or parent of class Address City. State, Zip Make checks payable to Brown University and mail with coupon to Box 1920, Brown LIniversit\-, Providence, R.I. 02912. Orcill (401) 863-2785. Most of this special issue will deal pidorially with a balmy, rather placid day in late Feb- ruary. But as history would have it {the last full-length photographic essay undertaketi by the BAM in 1970 coincided with the Cambodian invasion and the shooting deaths at Kent State), ice have been upstaged by a major campus nacs event and find ourselves forced to begin with a description of one snoivy, agitated day in March. It ims the day that students at Brown shed their much-heralded apathy, dropped their fretizied pre-professional pursuits for awhile, and indulged themselves in the first serious campus demonstration in five years. The following is a description of that day, of the issues it raised, and of the impact it has had through subsequent weeks on College Hill. Who sets Brown s priorities — and how? Neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow could keep) the demonstrators away on March 14. Brown Alumni Monthly April 1975, Vol. 75, No. 7 C W/i by Broim Alumnt Mmthlxi ruhlishtd monthly, except Januan. June, and August, by Brtuvn LIniversit\', Providence, R I Pnnted bv The Lane Press, Burlington, Vt Editonal ottices are in Nicholson House, 71 George St , Providence, R 1 02906 Second class postage paid at Providence, R 1 . and at additional mailing offices Member, Council for the Advancement and Support of Education The Monlhlif is sent lo all Brown alumni Please allow eight weeks for changes-of-address. March 14: Students begin gathering on the Green shorth' after 1 p.m. in weather that is cold and threatening. Even though a painted bedsheet read- ing "Student Coalition" has been strung up behind two microphones on a platform outside of Uni\ersit\- Hall, no one is in charge vet, and those in the audience seem not to know what to do with themselves. Someone is moved to shout, "Hell no, we won't go," and everyone else laughs. There is a gleeful cast to the collection of faces watching the crowd swell. One cannot help imagining that, for some, the dav is a re-enactment of a more exciting col- legiate experience that histon,', bv onl\- fi\'e or six years, has denied them. At 1:30 p.m. the Brown Band ram- §- bles through the Faunce House archwav -r, plaving "E\er True to Brown." The 3 familiar melody produces an emotional ''■ tingle. "Holv S---!" cries an excited redhead, jumping up and down to gauge the crowd size (later estimated to be more than 2,000 people at its peak). Students with white armbands roam the crowd, asking people to keep the walkways clear. Thev are marshals. At last, someone mans the microphone and urges, among other things, that the crowd demonstrate its support in quiet tones. "We gotta show respect," she explains. She is joined on the platform bv four other students. Emissaries to the Brown Corporation's Advisory and Executive Committee, they are dressed in coats and ties, skirts and heels. Thev talk of "good chances." The band finishes up a chorus of "Hey, Big Spend- er." The scene is set. This is the open- ing gun of a confrontation between Brown's administration and the student body over who determines University priorities and how. On the surface at least, the first face- off in this unusual battle of the budget seemed to many to be only a pleasant, and perhaps naive, replay of an earlier student activism. After all, not onlv were these students orderly, po- lite, and good-humored, but they were also woefulh' short on protest rhetoric, especialU' the musical kind. When someone suggested in late afternoon to the several hundred students who waited almost five hours in intermittent sleet and snow to receive the A&E Committee's response to their demands for a budget review that the group sing, "We Shall Overcome," the new activists made an embarrassing discovery: hardlv anvone knew the lyrics. Nonetheless, the illusion of naivete began to vanish as the dedication and the organizational skill of Coalition leadership became more apparent, and as the deeper implications of their pro- test started to emerge in the weeks fol- iciwing the opening protest gesture. It is no mere coincidence, for ex- ample, that a frequent campus visitor prior to March 14 was Ira Magaziner '69 — the architect, along with Elliot Max- well '68, of the curricular reforms that became Brown's now-aging New Cur- riculum. Magaziner first advised Coali- tion leaders pri\'atelv and informallv and later told an open convocation on March 20, "The University has two op- tions: it can settle back to being what it was in the sixties — a fairlv poor imita- tion of Har\'ard — or it can ask reallv basic questions and refonn itself along different lines." "This budget protest is intimately tied to the reform movements of the late sixties," says Tony Affigne '76, newlv elected president of the Student Caucus and a member of the organizing com- mittee of the Coalition. "All of the things that were fought for and won then — educational reform, a greater role for blacks in the Uni\'ersity, greater student involvement — are ncnv seen to be tied to one common denominator: money. Students are seeing now, in times of financial stress, that idealistic reforms are no gtxid without the mone\' to back them up. This coalition is the logical extension of pre\ious student movements." Put in the words of another Coalition member, "The pres- ent economic crisis is being used to resurrect an image of this University that is past." Bevond these philosophical consid- erations, however, there is a tangible target for the new student movement: the University's proposed budget for the 1975-76 year. Members of the Coali- tion claim that the administration's aus- terity measures hit hardest at student- related concerns, and they charge that this is the result of a "svstematic exclu- sion of student input in the budget- making process." On the other hand, faculty and administrative input has been assured, the students say, thrinigh the establishment of nine "task forces" (facultv and administrative membership only) for separate areas of the budget, through the creation of a faculty com- mittee to review non-academic areas of the budget, and through the active solicitation of faculty opinion. When President Donald F. Hornig discussed his White Paper on the budget (BAM, March) at a jam-packed student forum on March 6, he angered many students and sowed the seeds for the formation of the Coalition by his bluntlv worded refusals to release a de- tailed breakdown of the budget. As quoted in the Bwum Daily Herald the fol- lowing day. President Hornig told stu- dent c"]uestioners, "There is no such thing as the budget. 1 am willing to make budget material available to you on the level that the Corporation receives it, but (beyond that), I think you students have better things to do with your time." He was later receptive to a student's suggestion of an ad hoc ad- visorv committee for future budget planning, but he emphasized the need for "appropriate channels" and at one point told the students frankly, "1 don't think that students are financial experts." In all, the president's performance that day incensed a few key members of the student body, those who had been trying all year, they say, to gain some sort of budget input by way of their membership on ma]or Uni\ersit\' com- mittees such as the Educational Policy Committee (EPC) and the Aci\isor\ Committee on University Planning (ACUP). Their attempts, they say, were repeatedly rebuffed by the ad- ministration. Cuts in financial aid and student services For these students, the most dis- tressing information in the new budget as outlined in the White Paper was the following: (1) that of nine major areas of expenditures re\'iewed in the paper, the only two which show a negative grow th for the coming year are those which most directly affect students — financial aid and student services: (2) that, in a year in which tuition rose 11 percent, the financial aid budget shows a corre- sponding decrease of 4.5 percent; (3) that the facultv will be reduced b\ 15 percent over the next three years (seventy-five positions), leading, the students fear, to a cancellation of affirmative action gains, while increas- mg Brown's already high percentage of tenured faculty (now at 70 percent); and (4) that special programs for minorities, such as the Transitional Summer Pro- gram, and other student counseling programs, such as the Resident Fellow- program, will be discontinued with no suitable alternative programs having been devised. These changes would, in the students' opinion, eventually lead to "a dramatic change in the complexion of this Uniyersit^'." That fear was ex- pressed many times at the opening rally of the Coalition, but perhaps nowhere as effectively as in the lyrics of a song written for the occasion by Brown's ver- sion of Bob Dylan, Rob Guttenberg '75. "Say good-bve to the lower class, the middle class and the minorities," he sang. "This is your rich, white, Ameri- can university." Who exactly are the students behind the Coalition? In the begin- ning, they were a core group of about twenty-five, among them Student Caucus members, members of Univer- sity committees, leaders of assorted campus groups, and members of the Organization of United African Peoples. Several of them were also members of an independent study project on higher education planning and administration. Provoked by the White Paper, they formed a loosely structured organiza- tion called the Coalition. Observers ha\e tried to establish three political groupings within the Co- alition: one, whose members are a bit more radical (as the reasoning goes), is concerned with issues of governance and what the student role will be in the institution; another, more moderate group led b\' articulate senior spokes- woman Cathy ten Kate, is said to be concerned primarily with educational issues; the black students represent the third faction. However, Coalition lead- ers deny these labels. "What unites us," says ten Kate, "is our support for the demands." Their goal was to pressure the ad- ministration, through the Corporation, into adopting an alternate budget that would take their concerns into account. (One student member, Kim Schoenholtz '77, said at the Coalition rally, "President Hornig has made it clear to us that budget decisions are made on the basis of who yells the loudest. We want liim to hear us for a change.") The organization grew rapidly and spread through a dormitory network that has sponsored nightly, late-hour discussion sessions during various stages of the Coalition saga. By the March 14 meeting with the A&E Committee, the working number of Coalition members had risen to be- tween 150-200, and the outer trappings of the movement had taken on a more sophisticated look, with printed news- letters, lapel buttons reading "Coali- tion," and a tabloid handout listing the proposals to be submitted to theCorpo-' ration. * What is "reasonable and necessary" information? Briefly, what the students asked the Corporation to do was to establish a formal committee made up of students and faculty and to charge it with (1) examining the projected budget for 1975-76, with a view toward alternative methods of budget reduction, and (2) analyzing the current budget-making process and recommending a new- mechanism to take effect next fiscal year. In order to do this, the students asked that the committee ha\'e im- mediate access io all budgetar\- materi- als (with the exception of salary sup- plements and sensiti\'e personal evalua- tions). What the students got was »o/ the above. It was an amiable and carefull\ worded endorsement of their aims and The March 14 demimstraticn in front of University Hall: the band played "Ever True to Brozvn." a resolution which supported the gen- eral idea of a student budgetary review committee, but which set nothing in cement. "It was more of an official bless- ing for their work than a directive," noted one administrator present at the A&E deliberations. In part, the A&E statement reads: "... the Advisory and Executive Committee requests that the president . . . arrange to make avail- able to the (student) committee such information as ma\' be reasonable and necessary for its purposes ..." Then the trouble started. Almost immediately. Coalition leaders began asking for budget information which the administration felt exceeded the "reasonable and necessarv" guideline. Budget administrators were willing to gi\'e students aggregate departmental budgets in some areas, but refused to di\ulge "line-item" figures, such as those for travel and miscellaneous ex- penditures included under "other." Procedural bickering o\'er access to information led, by March 31, to what Mr. Hornig called "an impasse." The Coalition's goal of open budgetar\' data- gathering was clearK' unacceptable to the administration, which said, through one spokesman, "There is a point beyond which the administration won't go." Vice President Ronald A. VVolk ex- plained the position further for the As- sociated Press: "We will not, at this stage of the budget cycle, permit anybody to reopen the whole budget and start shift- ing around money to meet the de- mands of any interest group." Events then began to unfold quickly during I spring vacation, when some fifty Coali- tion members staved on campus to negotiate. On April 2, the Coalihon surprised administrators with a sudden change in tactics: feeling, as the days slipped bv, that thev no longer had anv possibility of preparing a comprehensi\e alternate budget by the April 19 deadline. Coali- tion leaders presented a new list of six demands. The new demands also called for budget reallocations in the priority areas, but shifted the onus of finding the necessary funds onto the shoulders of the administration. The Coalition, the document said, would not prepare its own budget, but would collaborate with administrators in incorporating its proposed budgetary changes into one revised budget submitted by the Uni- \ersit\'. In a statement issued to the Brown community. President Hornig said that the administration took the new pro- posals as an indication "that the stu- dents were prepared to begin a series of briefing and discussion sessions on a limited number of priority matters: stu- dent services, financial aid and admis- sion, and the demands of the Organiza- tion of United African Peoples." A statement of "understanding and agree- ment" to this effect was sent to the Coalition, Mr. Hornig said, with the first briefing scheduled for the following day. The Coalition, however, found the negotiating agreement unacceptably \ague and read a statement to that ef- fect at the first bnefing. "Then we have nothing to discuss," answered Provost Merton Stoltz. He and Vice-President for Finance and Operations Paul F. Maeder rose and walked out of the meeting. Another day of confidential back- and-forth negotiations seemed to soften the positions of both sides somewhat, and on April 3, students and adminis- trators were back at the conference table for the first of what were to be four three-hour briefing sessions on the priority concerns — financial aid and admissions, student services, minority programs, and faculty teaching loads. President Hornig's statement that day acknowledged that the briefings rep- resented "a fragile agreement" but said they were "the first positive result of two weeks of discussion which have been characterized by misunderstand- ings, disagreements, and distrust." It was a hopeful turn of events, but one that produced no resolution of the deadlock. As the briefings ended April 8, it was apparent to administrators that Coalition leaders were in no way satisfied with the level of information pro\ ided during the sessions, and that the briefings changed no one's position. Discouragement reigned at Univer- sity Hall on April 10, as students, this time warmed b\' early spring sunlight, demcmstrated their enthusiasm for the notion of a student strike during a rally attended by about 2,000 on the Green. Possibly attempting to hold off the strike threat, tired administrators sought further confidential meetings with the Coalition leadership, but a stu- dent spokesman was quick to say to the press, "These meetings are strictly in- formational; we are not authorized to negotiate on the Coalition demands." Friday, April 11 was a key date in the escalating budget conflict. On that day. Brown undergraduates turned out in force to vote their approval of a stu- dent strike, should the administration fail to respond to Coalition demands by 5 p.m. Sunda\', April 13 — or should it respond inadequately, i.e., with non- compliance. The vote was 3,136 in favor, or 81 percent of those voting, to 744 in opposition. Over 73 percent of the student body voted in the secret ballot referendum. The strike April 14: Bv 11:30 a.m., the podium in Sayles Hall is hot from the glare of extra lighting. There are enough television cameras at Brown's third student rally in a month to obscure the identity of the one from CBS News in New York. Because Sayles can only accommodate 600 people, several hundred students overflow onto the Green and are sitting and lying peace- fully on the grass, getting the word on the student-administration conflict via loudspeakers. Milling about the building's en- trance, other students are handing out literature with a flourish. One sheet suddenly draws attention. "Ques- tion the Coalition," it reads, listing a set of pointed questions ("How can the Co- alition claim to reflect student opinion when there was no student referendum on specific Coalition demands?") which suggests that the student group now calling for a boycott of classes may have less than unanimous support among their peers. Various administration and faculty onlookers stand on the Green, rimming the cluster of students. At about noon, Donald F. Hornig walks alone, almost unnoticed, from University Hall, across the Green and down Brown Street, to 55 Power Street, where he will prepare for a press con- ference. He is out of earshot only about fifteen minutes when the loudspeaker broadcasts a prediction of his ouster from office to the cheering approval of some of those present. Inside Sayles, student speakers are showing what just one month of politi- cal maneuvering can do for rhetoric. "The administration's response to our demands is an insult," says one stu- dent. "Prove to them that you're not stupid. Reject this attempt to deceive you and vote to strike." Others sling figures around lightly and erroneously. The reasoned atmosphere that pre- vailed at the first demonstration (one month ago to the day) has been re- placed by the hollow sounds of confron- tation politics. Still, Rick ZaII '76 voices the con- cern of most of the students that "peo- ple not interpret our activities as a sign that this is a disrupfive environment." He is referring especially to two groups — the prospective members of Brown's Class of 1979, who are deciding whether to come to Brown as he talks, and the alumni and friends of the University, whose contributions make up part of the budget he rejects. "That's not the kind of place Brown is," he says. "We are not concerned simply with gather- ing on the Green; we are concerned about getting an educafion and about the tvpe of environment and structure within which that education is ob- tained." Under some pressure (administra- fion spokesmen who wished to present an opposing viewpoint at the rallv were denied access), the floor is opened for discussion from the audience. People line up behind the microphone. Among them is Jacqueline A. Mattfeld, dean of the faculty anci academic affairs, who waits more than ten minutes to plead eloquently for a more'reasoned ap- proach to settling differences with the administration. "To strike is non- acfion," she says, provoking a few hisses from the back of the auditorium. "That's just one middle-aged woman's cipinion," she adds, walking away. Next, Engineering Professor Donald M. Bolle, who is chairman of the Faculty Policy Group, conveys the in- formal consensus of the faculty: a strike is not the way to attack problems. "The budget must not become a negotiable document," he tells the students. "A budget in the making six months or more cannot be reconstructed in a few weeks." Pleading for the students to turn their energies toward a joint faculty-student group that was au- thorized at the April 8 faculty meeting to make a review of University planning and budgeting processes, he says, "To politicize this process is to lose a great deal. The crucial issue is not the nature of the budget — painful as that might be. The crucial issue is the mechanism by which the budget is made." Students file out of Sayles for 12:40 p.m. classes, and student Caucus mem- bers begin setting up balloting stations for the eight hours of voting to begin at 1 p.m. The question is whether the administraHon's point-by-point written response to a set of demands by the Co- alition is sufficient to avert the strike approved in a referendum the previous Friday. Voting has been underway for an hour when President Hornig begins his news conference in the backyard garden of the president's mansion. At first, his hands fidget as he outlines the recent financial ciifficulty of the University, but he settles back and crosses his legs as the questions begin: Yes, he is con- scious of the adverse effects of a strike, he says. "1 think what the students are doing is very, very wrong. But 1 think that they are doing it from sincere mo- fives." Should students have a say in the budget? "Students are one of many voices. The important time for student input is at the beginning of the proc- ess." Will there be concessions to the students? "The budget is not a matter for bargaining . . . there are serious educational issues." Why did such a strike happen at Brown, if other private institufions suffer from comparable financial problems? "1 think, in a way, it's a credit to our students. They are ar- ticulate and aware. They don't always come down where 1 do in their think- ing, but 1 rather like that." Will he re- sign? "The thought has not even en- tered my mind." Late in the evening, after the polls have closed and students have seen i themselves on Walter Cronkite, student mailboxes are being stuffed with a letter i from University Chancellor Charles C. ' Tillinghast, Jr. '32. In it, he denies | rumors circulating among students that I the A&E Committee of the Corporation, i which meets the following Saturday to ' approve the administration's final budget, holds budget views at variance with those of administrators. At 10:15 p.m., about an hour after the polls closed, the vote counting is being watched by official checkers and a throng of several hundred bystanders. Cheers begin to erupt as the results are announced officially. With 73 percent of the student body voting (3,787) the mandate is clear: 78 percent favor a strike (2,956) and only 763 students op- \ pose it. , Understanding the budget dispute at Brown is by no means simple. Unlike past student protest movements, which argued society's problems from a university perspecfive, this crisis is confined to the operation and philosophy of the University itself. But the issues exist on several different levels. For instance, there was really no cut-and-dried decision in the student referendum, which is why some stu- dents had difficulty with a ballot that said simply "yes" or "no." Many did not know precisely what thev were striking for. Some, it has been sug- gested, were casting a "no confidence" vote against the administration; others were calling for a student role in estab- lishing priorities and formulating a budget at Brown; still others were con- cerned with the specifics of the current budget, which may or ma\' not affect minority enrollments. Pickets march in front of Univerifity Hall. For the latter group, the negotia- tions, information gathering, briefings, . and statement draftings of March and April ser\'ed verv real purposes. These students' aim was the reallocation of funds. But for their colleagues in other groups, budget specifics were less im- portant than the general shake-up of the system. These students' goal was a reallocation of decision-making po\vers. Several students in the latter mold expressed the belief that Brown was in the \anguard of a whole new student movement, one that would sweep the campuses. While they were organizing, thev note, students were demonstrating disgruntlement o\'er priorities at neigh- boring Roger Williams and Br\'ant Col- lege. In fact, on the day of the first Brown demonstration, students at Brandeis were also caught up in a budget dispute. Students from Duke, Johns Hopkins, and Princeton have vis- ited Brown for pointers on how to stage a budget confrontation, and campus press from Yale, Connecticut, Harvard, Boston University, Princeton, and Penn have converged on Brown to report its budget bickering. In fact, word from a Brown administrator's son at Cam- : bridge was that Harvard students were f "green with envy." The Coalition's demands, the administration's responses Regardless of what broader phe- nomena they are pioneering, how- ever, the Brown students' final list of specific "demands" relate directly to the University's budget for next year. The following is a summary of those de- mands and the response to them by the administration on Sunday, April 13: D Financial aid: The students asked that the financial aid budget be increased at a rate commensurate with the increase in student costs; that the scholarship budget be increased from the proposed level of $3,310,000 to S3,542,184; that the fmancial aid pack- ages for students be restructured to provide more aid in the form of scholar- ships and less in loans and jobs; that financial aid to black students be main- tained at the same rate and composition as last year; and that, in the future, 80 percent of black students receive fmancial aid. The administration's response pointed out that the making of a financial aid budget is an "uncertain ex- ercise" because it is based on past ex- perience and estimates. What matters is not calculations and projections, but what Brown has offered. And that, the administration claimed, is more than the Coalition proposed in freshmen aid. About SI. 8 million in financial aid offers have been promised to the prospective Class of 1979. There were no needy stu- dents admitted who were denied aid. The average self-help component (loans plus job earnings) was expected to be $200 lower than the estimate. n Undergraduate financial aid: In the administration's budget, the stu- dents charged, scholarship money would cover only 25 percent of the cost increases. They recommended 40 per- cent. The administration countered that the amount currently budgeted for up- perclassmen ($2,345,000) would actually provide an average scholarship increase equal to 38.5 percent of the increased costs. "Every scholarship recipient will ha\'e a needs analysis, and all needs will be met," the administration pledged, even if that meant dipping into contin- gency funds. In the matter of black financial aid, the administration noted that, in line with the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the needs analysis at Brown is non- discriminatory. "Nonetheless," their response said, "Seventy-nine percent of black freshmen are now receiving financial aid, and there is no reason to believe that this percentage will change significantly." (In an earlier four-page statement detailing its financial aid posi- tion, which was run as a full-page ad in the Brown Daily Herald, the administra- tion disclosed that there are 331 black students, or about 79 percent of the total number of blacks enrolled, on financial aid; and that this group is awarded about 32 percent of the total scholarship allocation — the average scholarship for black students being $3,129.) n Admission: Most of the student concerns in this area dealt with the ad- mission of blacks (10 percent of Rhode Island admissions and equal numbers to the current proportion of blacks in the United States, they recommended) and to the review process and recruitment for black applicants. The only commit- ments made by the University to any of the six specific Coalition suggestions (aside from assurances that Brown will continue to seek qualified black stu- dents) were promises to give one minority admissions officer responsibil- ity for the recruitment of black students and to create a committee of minority deans and black faculty for admissions recommendations. D Student services: The University budget for 1975-76, the administration said, already calls for the thirteen coun- seling deans demanded bv the Coali- tion. The Coalition, however, had asked also that four of these deans be minority members (present level). The adminis- tration responded that three of the posi- tions will be filled by blacks. The Uni- versity also agreed to continue three minority counseling programs and to maintain the tutorial budget at its pres- ent level. It refused, however, to make a firm commitment on the maintenance of present staffing levels at the Health Serxice, whose budget is "presently over ceiling and being reviewed." D Faculty and staffing: In re- sponse to the student demand that there be no further reduction in the size of the teaching faculty, the administra- hon said, "Only the development of new sources of income could materially affect the plans to reduce faculty size." Reacting to a second demand in this area, the University re-affirmed its commitment — within limitations of structure and resources — to the Afro- American Studies Program. The stu- dents had also demanded that the continued on page 64 I This is how the day begins at Brown the first rays of sun catching such early risers as President Hornig, a custodian at Faunce House, and a lonely dog on the Green . . . While most of the campus is still asleep . . WBRU gees on the air at 6 a.m. and this mommg Tommy Hart '77 IS m charge of providmg the campus zvith some music to get up by . . . The students wlio dehver the Brown Daily Herald gather m Faunce House to begin their work . . . Security guard loseph Ventrotw checks in at tlie Security Office m Faunce House. A janitor deans the floor in the West Quad . . . Laurie Lingham '78 does some reading before dressing . . . At Delta Phi Omega, George Pacienza 75 acts blase about being photographed while sliaving . . . Early arrivals for breakfast go through the line at the Refectory as bakers prepare cupcakes for the noon and ei'ening meals. One day The day is Thursday, February 27, 1975. The Brown Daily Herald's circulation staff will be distributing an issue in which the two-line, five-column headline announces that Brown has been charged by the Rhode Island Commission for Human Rights with salary discrimination on the basis of sex in the case of a psychiatric social worker in the University Health Services (page 60). Another front-page story reports on a preliminary five-year plan for faculty cutbacks as a result of the University's financial difficulties. The third front-page story reveals that the partially nude model for the cover of the March issue oi Playboy is Eva Gerdts '71, the wife of Brown's freshman soccer coach, George Gerdts '69. Inside, the Herald reports that Brown de- feated Yale in hockey, and that the women's basketball team set a scoring record in walloping Clark University, 79-33. Editori- ally, the Herald urges students to vote in the Caucus (student government) election. It is a day both typical and unique — as are most days at the nation's seventh oldest university. In the first issue of the Broum Alumni Monthly seventy-five years ago, the editor wrote that the magazine "aims to bring the University and its graduates into closer touch and sym- pathy ... It will be inspired by loyalty to Brown and an affec- tionate regard for all her graduates." The BAM's editorial staff has also been inspired by an affectionate regard for the institution, and it is in this spirit that we present this special issue on our seventy-fifth anniversary. 10 Photographed by Constance Brown, John Foraste, Chris Maynard, and Joanna Clark Swayze with additional photographs by John Bonacum '75 and Steve Dunwell at Brown The staff and the photographers do not claim to have covered every event during this day. What we hope we have done is to capture the substance of a day at Brown — to have caught some of the excitement, some of the routine, some of the major events, some of the minor events — which make up a rel- atively typical twenty-four hour period. Perhaps more impor- tantly, we hope to remind our readers that even in a time of financial stress — when the University is seeking ways to re- duce its costs without reducing its quality, and when the Uni- versity community is deeply concerned about Brown's very existence in future decades — the institution remains, in the words of the Watson Report, "a small university of scholarly reputation which concentrates most energetically on instruc- tion ... in which faculty who frequently advance the frontiers of knowledge teach undergraduates ... a university-col- lege with a devotion to teaching . . . and the resources of a first- rate university. ..." We have also, in our special report, followed the advice of President Henry M. Wriston in an Opening Convocation aci- dress over twenty years ago: "Fix your eyes on today, and get the most out of today. Do not believe that life wall ever be more exciting than it is today, or more important, or more rewarding, or more anything else." R.M.R. 11 Morning's familiar routines A, . fter breakfast, the day shifts into high gear — balky at first, Hke a car with a cold engine, but warming up as the familiar routines of class- room, office, and laboratory take over. The sun is well over the housetops by now, softening the February chill as students venture outside without scarves or mittens and Physical Plant workers make their rounds of the campus. But most of the morning's activity takes place indoors. In the windowless vault of Metcalf Auditorium (right), 179 science majors and pre-med students absorb the finer points of organic chemistry. The hour is early (8:30) and the class is long (an hour and twenty minutes), but Prof. Ronald Lawler's relaxed and en- thusiastic manner keeps the fidgeting to a minimum. Elsewhere, there are experiments being con- ducted, operations performed, con- ferences held. Student Caucus can- didates elected, temperatures taken, and plants pruned and wa- tered. The morning is a time for getting things done. 12 / V f " tr* r^ ;«l")"|«'|«l«='«f*'|Mi«)'^!'r' Ac 13 Some of the things that get done this Viursday morning: Lewis Lipsitt. professor of psychology and medical science, and Bonnie Ziegler 75 work with a tioo-day-old baby as part of the continuing research in the neonate laboratory at Providence's Women and Infants Hospital . . . English Professor Hyatt Waggoner teaches a course on Faulkner (left bebw) . . . Art 110. taught by Assistant Professor Joel Janowitz, meets m List Art Building (above). -~y — jf -^ \ f I Opposite: As part of biomedical engineering research into muscle reaction being conducted by Professor of Engineering facques Duffy, graduate student Kadreya A.F. El-Htndawy is tested by Paul Rush, a technical assistant in engineering . . . Two students (one with eyes closed, being led by the other) take a "trust walk" as part of the course, "Persuasion m Public Speaking," taught by Barbara Tannenbaum, an instructor m English. 14 15 / V I At Miriam Hospital, several Broum medical students are at work early. In the emergency room (aboi'e), Reid Colertian (right) assists Dr. Mehrdad Motamed, clinical assistant professor of surgery, in suturing a patient's thumb laceration. In the operating room, Judith Stein pauses after assisting in an abdc^minal closure. Later in the morning, four students meet with Dr. Bertram Selverstone, clinical professor of surgery, for a surgical review. 16 Faailty members spend the morning in a variety cf ways. Engmeering Professor Tlieodore Morse (above) takes time to read some of the professional journals and other mail on his desk . . . Laura Durand, assistant professor of French, and David Josephson, assistant professor of music, teach a course (top left) in "Tlie Chanson: Poetry and Music in Renaissance France." . . . Music Professor William Dinneen talks with shtdents (left, center), after a class m txoentieth-ceittury music . . . Professor of French Durand Echeverria (bottom, left) checks the card file in the John Carter Brown Library with ]CB bibliographer Samuel Hough. 17 Some of the things students are doing this mommg: Ohie\/ House resident Gerard O'Connor '78 iahoi'e) gets his books ready before going to class . . . The ivometi's swimming team boards a bus for Philadelphia, where they will compete in the Easterns . . . Kip Hawley 76 meets with Associate Dean of Academic Affairs Lee Verstandig. (Both of them appeared recently on the David Susskind TV show, where they discussed increased competition for grades on the nation's college campuses.) 18 Balloting IS underway (left) in tlie office of Dean of Student Affairs James Dougherty to elect members of the Student Caucus (the student goi'ertiment) . . . One who's not voting today is Michael B. Fischer 78, a patient at Andrews House . . . Other students stop in the post office lobby in Faunce House to sign up for the University Blood Drive. 19 Prior to his regular Tlnirsday morning staff meeting (far left). President Hortjig reads the Brown Daily Herald. At the meeting (below, far left) are (dockunse from Mr. Homig) Budget Director Fred Parker; Vice- President (administration) Malcolm Stei>ens; Graduate School Dean Maurice Clicksman: Vice-President (finance and operations) Paul Maeder; Provost Merton Stoltz; Vice- President (development and University relations) Ronald Wolk: Dean of the Faculty and Academic Affairs Jacqueline Mattfeld: and Assistants to the President John Mclntyre and Kelsey Murdoch. Later, Paul Maeder (foreground, heloiv left) meets with the Corporation's Audit Committee. Visible also are John Price '43, business manager-finance (next to Maeder), and Richard Tracy '46, an alumni trustee . . . Vie University's business offices are in the Brown Office Building at Thayer and Angell. There Robert Fortin, special projects accountant m the controller's office, works at his desk (top, left). Meanwhile, other Brown employees are at work in the greenhouse and on building and campus maintenance. 21 w, Midday hen classes break at 11:20 Thursday morning, Faunce House becomes the center of activity, as stu- dents elbow their way to their mailboxes (and within a few minutes make the floor a litterbug's delight). But this morning the students below postpone getting their mail long enough to hear Classics Professor John Rowe Workman discuss his theory that disaster is the 22 catalyst of social reform, in the second of a new series of convocations being held in Sayles Hall. Then it's lunchtime, and Faunce House, the Ratty, and Thaver Street each claim their share of the crowd. Many of the faculty head for the Faculty Club, where, for some of the regulars, the pool room is as big an attraction as food. 23 ''1^ *IP "^pp ^ 9'-''J» ix^ 4i Faunce House at midday is a scene of contrasts . From the crunch at the mailboxes, a student can find solitude (albeit while surrounded by people) in the main lounge or on the terrace. . . . Inside Billy mixes a Coke (right) and the Blue Room is crowded - as usual. 25 In the Faculty Club pool room, Alumni Executive Officer Paul Mackesey 32, University Safety Director Eric Spencer, and Chemistty Professor Harold Nace take aim on the cue ball . . . In the hy Room, Alice prepares another sandwich, and a group of faculty members enjoy conversation with their lunch . . . At Miriam Hospital, three medical students also use lunch- time to relax and talk. 26 Tliayer Street is a busy place at lunchtime, hut no business there has beer\ as busy recently as the new Baskm-Robbins ice aeam store. One scoop or two? 17 28 All day long T J. he graduate student at left is Larry Panek, eyeball to eyeball with a nuclear magnetic resonance machine in Barus and HoUey. (Flash Gordon stands by, ready to spring to the rescue if anything goes vvTong.) Research, whether with machines, animals, or people, dominates much of University life all day long — as does paperwork, at least for those with more bureau- cratic occupations. From the van- tage point of the office or the labora- tory, leisure time seems scarce and precious: the opportunity to get outdoors, take a nap, read a mag- azine, or even indulge in some serious browsing in the Brown Bookstore. 29 Much of the research being conducted at Broum is concentrated in two buildings betiveen Brook and Hope Streets. In the Prince Engineering Laboratory, Prof. Sture Karlsson and a student (aboiv) are at loork on research designed to help understand clear air turbulence . . . In Bams & Holley, physics graduate studait Mark Ruths is studying the absorption of gases in a molybdenum crystal. 30 The Bio-Medical Center and the ]. Walter Wilson Laboratory on Broiim Street are the pnnapal locations for biologiait and medical research. Dr. Richard Goss, a professor of bio-medical sciences (left), feeds a fallow deer, one of the residents of the Animal Care facility . . . Below, a graduate student exammes a neiot under a microscope . . . At bottom left, tu'o medical students dissect a monkey under the sup'en'ision of Dr. Robert George, assistant professor of bw-medical sciences. 31 Broum's administrative and service staff includes the people on these pages: Carol Pavao, an administrative assistant in the admission office (left); Greg nomas 75, who works for Brown's printing office (bottom left): Wendy Tcmes '74, who takes ID pictures in the Photo Lab; jon Sallet '74, the Neivs Bureau's radio and TV officer; Anne-Francis Leavell, secretary to President Homig (below): Eric Brown '58, director of tlie Office of Institutional Research (opposite); Aridreiv Udis '72, assistant director of deivlop'ment (ofyposite, bottom left); Susan Au '73, an alumni relations officer; and John McConnell, director of housing. 32 ^ 33 Tlie hour of the day is incidental to many of the activities which occupy students: a discussion in an otherunse empty classroom in Robinson Hall (right), reading the magazines at the Faunce House neivsstand, relaxing on the Green, checking the mailbox and finding a copy of this magazine, and taking a nap in a windoiv in Sears House. 34 ^<*l!f^ 35 Betweni 800 and 900 members of the University community visit the 3roum Bookstore on Thayer Street during; a typical day. On these P'ages are four such visitors. 36 i }>^'^ A day in the life of four photographers To some, the camera almost classifies as a lethal weapon. When wielded by an unknown, there is sud- denly a menacing, neck- stiffening qual- ity to it. A camera can send a perfectly capable voung woman shrieking down the corridors of an all-male dorm, turn an animated drama instructor cold as ice in the midst of an interrupted dialogue, and lead a startled security guarci to scold, "Don't point that thing at me . . . Don't you know you ought to ask first?" How do you ask permission to photograph a campus? The BAM did its best. There was a formal memorandum, a few cordial telephone calls to strategic spots, and a word-of-mouth telegraph line — none of which proved to be an entirely effecti\'e alert. On Februar\' 27, despite the written plea for a typical day, almost everybody at Brown was trying to get into or out of a camera's way. "Oh no, I've already beai in that magazine." . . . "Take my picture; my mother would like it." ... "I was in all the right places. Someone took my pic- ture working in a chemistry labimd coming out of the library at midnight." . . . "Who are you, and what is this for?" . . . "What is the BAM?" That the mysterious BAM was able to collect almost 3,000 eminently print- able photographs in one rather crazy — and very long — day (300 prints were ordered and more than 125 used, re- ports a gleeful editor, now sorting "a backlog of campus scenes to last for years to come") is as much a commen- tary on photographic style and inge- nuity as it is anything else. Granted, there were two staff briefing sessions, but as the BAM staff members who accom- panied each of the four primary photog- raphers for this issue can testify, once the day began, success or failure de- pended on the personality behind the lens: D Surprised and self-conscious students awoke to find Constance Brown recording their hands on alarm clocks and their first fuzzy looks into the mirror. "She was chatty and assertive," says editorial assistant Janet Phillips. "She engaged people in lengthy conver- sations and wasn't abm'e flattery. ('You look real cute. Mind if I try a few shots of that?')" At one point, exasperated by the abrupt departure of one camera-shy member of an informal grouping in Faunce House, the vivacious Ms. Brown called, "Hey, we're from the BAM, not the CIA." D John Foraste had just been named as the BAM's official photog- rapher, replacing Hugh Smyser, when plans for this issue were explained to him. He responded to the massive opening assignment with boldness and a flair for the unusual. "He's a real per- fectionist," notes associate editor Jay Barry, who watched John traverse the unenclosed catwalk high above Marvel Gym for a shot of w'omen's basketball and stop traffic in the middle of George Street while he captured the window scene on page 55 from atop his Volkswagen. D Wearing track shoes and carry- ing three cameras around his neck, Chris Mavnard worked from 6 a.m. until midnight on February 27. As far as associate editor Sandra Reeves could tell, his style was to walk on cat's feet and blend into the walls. Seldom did his presence seem to annoy a speaker or disrupt a classroom, but Chris belies the impression that photographers have no ears. "Ugh," he moaned after hearing only three nondescnpt sen- tences in an English class, "it's The Education of Henry Adams." A check later proved him correct. D Joanna Clark Swayze, who was photographing University bakers before the sun was up, also has a deceptively quiet air. A shy-appearing mother of a two-year-old, this Massachusetts free- lancer can call forth a supply of nerve and verve when she has to, according to assistant editor Kathleen Smith. When the two of them were walking past the Kappa Delta Upsilon house in late after- noon, Joanna spotted two male stu- dents in the far corner of a second- floor room. "Come to the window, I want to take your picture," she called. When word came back that the gentle- men were nude and wondered if some clothes might be in order, she snapped an earnest, "No, no, 1 just want your faces." 37 In the afternoon the pace slackens (slightly) Afternoon is a period of transition, a moment when tfie pace seems to slacken, if only slightly. Classes con- tinue (above, Winifred Hughes, a graduate student and teaching assistant in English, teaches a course in fiction writing), research continues, the campus re- mains busy. But there is time for students and profes- sors to come together for informal give-and-take, sometimes over coffee. Education isn't a neatly pack- aged thing at Brown: it is more than the classroom or 38 the lab, more than the one-on-one sessions with pro- fessors or deans. When the academic formahties are out of the way, education can become a private thing. It can come as brush meets canvas, with the almost silent swish of an oar, or in the personal struggle to prepare the muscles of the body for a dance recital. In the easier pace of the afternoon, there is time for both formal and informal education. 39 |Tf^M : m M^^^Mm ^H n [ '1 1 IE — 1 1 H ^5 ^^^^^F^tT' 911 H H ^mm s ^ 1^ ^ ■ Afternoon is when many faculty hold office hours. Among those available this afternoon (counter- clocka