BroiAfn 



March 1990 




A dad's two days 
at Brown 



Donor Profile 



■ Lillian Hicock Wentworth '35 

Home: South Braintree, Massachusetts 
Gift: Charitable Gift Annuity 

" Does anyone remember the Mcjdel 
League of Nations of the 30's? I met 
my husband Bob, from Northeastern. 
at the Har\'ard gathering when \vc 
were both juniors. Through the years. 
we ha\e kept in close touch with our 
alma maters; and now we are about to 
celebrate our 55th Reunions, which, of 
course, doesn't seem possible. How- 
beit, we decided to mark the event by 
participating in the Planned Giving 
program now rather than just make a 
bequest later. 

The beauty of it all is that I am 
actually gaining by giving. I recei%e tax 
credit for charitable gi\ing, as well as 
the generous interest check which 
comes regularly from the LIni\ersity. 
It is satisfying not only to have been a 
small part of Brown's past, but to have 
the opportunity to participate in the 
present and future. Bi-own's a good 
investment. Try it!" 

For more information of Life Income 
Gifts and a copy of Invest in Brown 
write: 

The Office of Planned Giving 

Brown Uni%ersitv Bo.\ 1893 





Volume 90, Number 6 
March 1990 



Broinyn \lumni Monthly 



^ 

^ 



t^ 



1 



'Do Fewer Things, but Better' 

Last April, during his inauguration. President Gre- 
gorian said he planned to spend the first year get- 
ting to know Brown. In a candid interview with the 
BAM, he discusses the gap between the University's 
aspirations and its resources. 



20 



The Door Is Always Open 

For the 250-odd Brown students who take time off 
each year, leavetaking can mean a glimpse of a pos- 
sible career, a shot of confidence, a view of a differ- 
ent culture. 




25 



Battling Diseases in the Third World 30 

Schistosomiasis is one of the great killers in de- 
veloping areas of the tropics. Through biotech- 
nology and grass-roots medicine. Brown's 
International Health Institute is trying to interrupt 
the parasites' deadly cycle. 




Miss Daisy's Unexpected Success 

The popularity of Driving Miss Daisy surprised no 
one more than its playwright, Alfred Uhry '58. Af- 
ter years writing librettos and teaching theater, he 
wrote a Pulitzer-winning play and wound up at the 
Oscars for the screenplay he based on it. 





Departments 




Books 


2 


Carrying the Mail 


3 


Under the Elms 


10 


Sports 


18 


The Classes 


46 


Alumni Calendar 


50 


Obituaries 


53 


Finally 


56 



The View From a Futon 40 

Curious to see just what his "80,000 clams" were buy- 
ing, one brave father came to campus midweek for a 
two-day visit with his daughter 



Cover: Illustration by Sean Kelly '84 



Books 



By James Reinbold 



What's New 

•^ The Forked Rivers (Alice James Books, 
Cambridge, Mass., 1989, $8.95) by Nancy 
Donegan '84 A.M. Michael S. Harper, 
poet and Brown professor of English, has 
written of Nancy Donegan's poetry: "She 
is capable of making music of seeming- 
ly disparate lines that fade and reappear 
in the corpus of her work. She is always 
probing for those Epiphanies that sound, 
again and again, in her poems." 




This is Donegan's first collection. She 
has received awards from the Academy 
of American Poets, among others, and is 
an adjunct lecturer in the English de- 
partment at Brown. 

•^ Greater Nowheres (A Fireside Book, 
Simon & Schuster Inc., 1988, $9.95) by 
Dave Finkelstein '58 and Jack London. 
American readers seem to be fascinated 
with Australia. Or is it just an itch they 
cannot reach? We've had our mini-se- 
ries, both on network and public televi- 
sion. Paul Hogan hawks Foster Lager, 
and cuddly koala bears speak Qantas. 

Greater Noxvheres chronicles a journey 
through the forbidding Australian Out- 
back in search of the deadly, albeit elusive, 
man-eating crocodile, .rrocorfi//i(s porosns, 
or salty, for short. The writing is deft, 
whether it describes the history and ge- 
ography of the continent, explores the 
intricacies of the adventurers' friendship, 
or brings to life the intriguing characters 
- imaginative entrepreneurs and hearty 




pioneers - whom the travelers meet. 

Philip Caputo notes in his forward, 
"[T]he Outback is not for the average 
tourist. . . . |S|tay home, pour yourself 
a drink, and with Dave Finkelstein and 
Jack London as your guides, take an 
imaginative journey into Australia's 
'greater nowheres.' As 1 said in the be- 
ginning, it's better than being there." 

Dave Finkelstein is a contributing 
editor of Marlin Mngnziue. He has written 
articles for Tlie Neie Yorker, Audubon, and 
Sports Afield, and has translated Chinese 
fiction. He lives in New York City. 

•^ Tlw Christ Child Goes to Court (Tem- 
ple University Press, 1990, $27.95) by 
Wayne R. Swanson '69 Ph.D. In Decem- 
ber 1980 the American Civil Liberties 
Union challenged the Nativity scene in 
the Christmas display of the city of Paw- 
tucket, Rhode Island. An emotional con- 
troversy ensued. In March 1984, the 
United States Supreme Court by a 5-4 
vote in Lyucli v. Donnelly overruled lower 
court rulings and said that in the predom- 
inantly secular context of the display the 
purpose and effect of the Nativity scene 
was not to promote religion, but only 
to acknowledge the spirit of the holiday 
season. In his book, Swanson describes 
how public opinion in Rhode Island 
was polarized by the issue, including 
the "unimaginable vilification" of the 
Roman Catholic judge who first ordered 
the creche removed. 

Church-state cjuestions resolved by 
the courts are usually interim in nahire 
and often lead to imperfect solutions. 
Swanson reminds readers that Lynch v. 
Donnelly did not solve the problem; 
courts continue to struggle with this, 
one of the most difficult First Amend- 
ment issues. 

Swanson is professor and chairman 
of the government department at Con- 
necticut College and author of Lnwmak- 
ing in Couneetieut. 



9^ Cities and Social Change in Early 
Modern France (Unwin Hyman, 1989) 
edited by Philip Benedict, an associate 
professor of history at Brown. This col- 
lection of essays, with contributions 
by both French and North American 
historians, explores the changing con- 
tours of urban life in France between 
the end of the Middle Ages and the fall 
of the Bastille. Together the essays show 
how urban society was transformed 
over this period by the growth of the 
state, the advance of capitalism, and the 
development of new patterns of social 
behavior. Benedict contributes an intro- 
ductory overview on French urban de- 
velopment. 




•^ Lights Out in the Reptile House 
(W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1990, 
$18.95) by Jim Shepard '80 A.M. In a 
country unspecified in time or place, but 
reminiscent of the imaginary territory of 
Orwell or Kafka, Shepard pits his ado- 
lescent hero, Karel Roeder, against a 
bnital totalitarian state. 

Following the fall of repressive 
regimes in Eastern Europe, and the sub- 
sequent newspaper reporting on Ceau- 
cescu's legacy to the people of Romania 
- a crippled economy, a plague of AIDS 
among abandoned children - newspa- 
per articles read like fiction. The bleak 
worlds of Orwell and Kafka - and Shep- 
ard - have become reality. That is fright- 
ening. 

Shepard teaches English and creative 
writing at Williams College. He is the 
author of two previous novels. Flights 
(1983) and Pn;vr Do// (1986). ID 



2 / MARCH 1990 



Carn/ingthe Mail 



MAR 

.t^ 1990 




'Five of the Toughest' 

Editor: Along with my delight in reading 
the brief article on Bill McLoughlin's 
"Social and Intellectual History of the 
United States" (BAM, December) came a 
mild shock of recognition. For some rea- 
son I have kept all the notes I ever took 
in both graduate and undergraduate 
courses, going all the way back to 
Brown in the late forties. Naturally, I 
never look at any of them - with one ex- 
ception: McLoughlin's History 173, 174, 
which was my baptism of fire in the 
American civilization doctoral program 
in 1967-1968. It was indeed the toughest 
course I had at Brown - and the best. 

Rudolph Nehon '52, '71 Ph.D. 

Albany, N.Y. 
The writer is associate professor of English 
at SUNY-Alhany. - Editor 



Editor: There is no question that Profes- 
sor Milhaven's religious studies courses 
were extremely challenging. The differ- 
ence, however, between his courses and 
others which had the reputation for be- 
ing tough was that his were designed 
not to overwhelm and frustrate his stu- 
dents. By never assigning an unreason- 
able amount of reading, Milhaven en- 
sured ample time for in-depth analysis 
in the weekly papers. In addition, unlike 
some other professors using the Socratic 
method, he did not intimidate or humil- 
iate students into performing, nor did 
he paralyze them with the threat of a fi- 
nal examination or written masterpiece. 
In this way, he was able to keep the course- 
work fluid, and the discussions vital. For 
the student, the weekly productivity was 
tremendously satisfying. 

But the real reason Milhaven's stu- 
dents worked so hard is that the back of 
each of their weekly papers was covered 
with his enthusiastic and thoughtful re- 
sponse, as well as further questions to 



ponder. Milhaven inspired students to 
work because he worked just as hard to 
make them feel valuable. For this reason, 
in my memory of undergraduate and 
graduate teachers, he will always be out- 
standing. 

Catherine Armsden '77 

San Francisco 



Editor: Organic chemistry at Brown or 
anywhere else is certainly a hard course. 
However, students have a misconception 
about organic (and science courses in 
general) that was repeated in Mr. Walpert's 
article. Memorizing all the material in 
organic chemistry makes about as much 
sense as memorizing all the theorems in 
Euclid. The better path for geometry is 
to memorize the postulates and learn the 
process of mathematical proof. Similarly, 
in organic we keep applying the same 
ideas to ever larger and more complex 
molecules. Memorization becomes a less 
important skill than pattern recognition. 
As for organic chemistry being dry, I 
subscribe to the view of Bob Woodward: 
"There is excitement, fascination, and 
there can be great art in organic synthe- 
sis." 

/. William Suggs 

Associate Professor of Chemistry 

Campus 



Editor: Perhaps the reason organic chem- 
istry is greeted so glumly by students is 
because it has appeared to be greeted so 
glumly by faculty. In fact, when 1 took 
the course it was difficult to tell who 
dreaded it more: the students who had 
to take it or the professors who had to 
teach it. 

It was curious then to see organic 
chemistry featured in an article high- 
lighting courses whose attraction is the 



BroiAyn 

Alumni Moiithh/ 

March 1990 
Volume 90, No. 6 



Editor 

Robert M. Rhodes 

Managing Editor 

Anne Hinm.in Diffily '73 

Assistant Editor 

Charlotte Bruce Harvev '78 

Editorial Associate 

James Reinbold '74 A.M. 

Contributing Writer 

Evan Shubin '90 

Administrative Assistant 

Pamela M. Parker 

Design 

Kathryn de Boer 

Sandra Delany 

Susan Pearce 

Typesetting 

Gita Brown '86 A.M. 



Board of Editors 

Chairman 

James Geehan '45 

Vice Chairman 

John J. Monaghan '55 

M. Charles Bakst '66 

Barry Beckham '66 

Peter W. Bernstein '73 

Philip J. Bray '48 

Douglas O. Gumming '80 A.M. 

Robert P Fisler '43 

Lisa W. Foderaro '85 

Annette Grant '63 

Deborah Pines Livingstone '80 

Anne Jones Mills '60 

Stacy E. Palmer '82 

Gary A. Puckrein '78 Ph.D. 

Matthew L. Wald '76 

Elizabeth B. West '73 



National Advertising 
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© 1990 by Brown Alumm Monthly. Published 
monthly, except January, July, and August, by 
Brown University, Providence, R,l, Printed by 
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changes-ot-address to P.O. Box 1S54. Provi- 
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Address Correction Requested 



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inspiration and excitement for the mate- 
rial imbued by their respective professors. 

If I took away any such impression 
from organic it was of what a cioleful ex- 
istence must be the lot of a chemist. 

Perhaps if the University would re- 
gard the two semesters of organic chem- 
istry as less a mechanism for weeding 
out pre-meds and more a chance to con- 
vey to eager students what excited those 
professors to become chemists in the 
first place, the course would be less of 
tlie cireary trial it traditionally has been. 

And with all due respect to Dean 
Ripley - whose advice 1 relied upon fre- 
quently - while the subject matter may 
be no more difficult at Brown than any- 
where else, that is no reason for it to re- 
main so tormenting. Indeed, if Brown's 
place in the nation's education system 
has had any meaning over the last twenty 
years, it has been as a leader who shuns 
the unproven teaching and learning 
methods of old and experiments with 
the untraditional because it may just work. 

What a thrill it would be to see an 
Alunmi Moithly ten years from now fea- 
turing an article on a dynamic chemistry 
teacher who would say he or she took 
inspiration from the enthusiasm of an 
organic chemistry teacher at Brown. 

Perhaps such motivated people will 
even begin to help change the scandalous 
state of science education in this country. 

Riclnmi Bnist '75 

Allentown, Pa. 



Escalating tuition costs 

Editor: Brown simply isn't worth it. Why 
pay $20,000 a year (rising) to send a child 
to Brown, when good public institutions 
are available at half the cost, or less? The 
escalation in tuition costs over the last 
three decades is a crime, far exceeding 
the rate of inflation. 

Academics have no concept of cost 
control, as Brown's new president demon- 
strated with his recent recommendations 
on faculty salaries. Little improvement 
is likely, however, as long as there are 
six times as many applicants as there are 
places to put them. 

Whether 1 could afford to send my 
kids to Brown or not, 1 would not pay 
the prices. An elite, Ivy-League degree 
won't fit them for the world any better 
than one from the University of Virginia, 
William & Mary, or a host of other pub- 
lic institutions. 

Congratulations to Irene Pigman '45 



for her excellent analysis of this problem 
(Carrying the Mail, December). 

James E. Tnbhle '52 

Plymouth, Mass. 

Outstanding alumni 
teachers 

Editor. The University is poorer today 
with the loss of three outstanding local 
alumni /ae, Edward Gauthier '31, Kath- 
leen McKay '34, and Elizabeth MacDon- 
ald '30. Because of the hundreds of Provi- 
dence students and Brown alumni and 
stvidents they taught during their years 
in the Providence public schools, their 
contribution to Providence and to Brown 
will transcend their passing this year. 

Using three totally different teaching 
styles and very diverse personalities they 
brought richness, understanding, and 
discipline to their classrooms. Graduat- 
ing from Brown /Pembroke and the Grad- 
uate School at about the same times, they 
went almost immediately into teaching 
in Providence. Kathleen taught Latin, 
while Elizabeth and Ed went into the 
teaching of English. 

Kathleen was ready with a smile and 
a willingness to listen while drawing 
upon a strong background in subject 
material necessary to help her students 
succeed. During part of her time at Clas- 
sical High School, she continued to teach 
Latin, while being a student counselor. 
Eventually she became a counselor full 
time. 

Elizabeth was a strong woman of 
firm opinion who by various means 
would help her students to learn and ex- 
cel. As head of the English department 
at Classical, she established several pro- 
grams including honors English which 
continued to help students long after 
she retired. She, as Kathleen and Ed, 
gave much time and experience to 
Brown, working with alumni groups, 
counseling young teachers, and train- 
ing student teachers. The hundreds she 
taught have strong, positive memories 
of her and their learning. 

Ed Gauthier performed many jobs 
within the Providence system as teacher 
and coach. Using his own brand of hu- 
mor, including carefully contrived mixed 
metaphors and malapropisms, he made 
the learning of English language and lit- 
erature interesting and demanding. Stu- 
dents enjoyed his classes immensely. As 
a coach he was thoughtful and primari- 
ly concerned with the athlete learning as 



4 / MARCH 1990 



well as playing. Good sportsmanship 
was always primary in his coaching. 

Giving their most precious posses- 
sions of education, experience, and time 
to the University, Kathleen, Elizabeth, and 
Ed were truly outstanding alumni/ae. 
Each was a credit to Brown. Each will be 
sorely missed by those they taught, those 
of us who served with them, and by the 
Brown community to which they gave 
so much. 

Donald E. Leonard '55 

Providence 



'Fish Don't Vote' 

Editor. I am writing in response to the 
letter sent in by William H. Dibble '51 
(BAM, October). The letter criticized An- 
drew Welsh-Huggins's June/July article, 
saying that it gave "homosexuality an 
air of respectability and social accep- 
tance." Mr. Dibble then implied that this 
would lead to homosexuality becoming 
the norm and the eventual death of the 
human race from disease or extinction. 
It is incredible to me how much ig- 



norance Mr. Dibble was able to expose 
in such a short letter. First of all, accept- 
ing homosexuality as something that is 
"normal" for some people will certainly 
not lead to homosexuality becoming the 
norm. It would simply make myopic 
people more aware of the homosexual 
people that already exist in the world. 
And you can bet that people such as Mr. 
Dibble would be in for a few surprises 
when they discover that some of their 
well-respected friends and co-workers 
are homosexual. 

Secondly, Mr. Dibble's reference to 
AIDS as a purely homosexual disease 
that would wipe out the human race 
should homosexuality become more 
prevalent is precisely the attitude that 
has kept AIDS from getting the atten- 
tion that it deserves as a real human 
problem. Believing that AIDS is a homo- 
sexual disease and therefore treating it 
as a homosexual problem is either due 
to ignorance or a lack of compassion. A 
person's mind will change quickly once 
he/she comes into contact with the dis- 
ease. 

At the close of his letter, Mr. Dibble 



asked to be removed from BAM's mail- 
ing list since you tend to print "contro- 
versial" articles rather than simply re- 
porting on the "accomplishments of the 
University." It is too bad that Mr. Dibble 
is so closed-minded even after having 
received a Brown education. It is narcis- 
sism such as this that is at the root of so 
much of the world's prejudice. It is a 
shame that even after having read the 
Welsh-Huggins article Mr. Dibble could 
not open his eyes and gain a little under- 
standing. 

John Wilson '85 

Brookline, Mass. 

A lectern by any 
other name . . . 

Editor. Shame on your presumably eru- 
dite staff for perpetuating a common 
misuse of the word "podium." Note the 
caption accompanying the picture on 
page 16 (BAM, December): "In a salute 
to gratiuate education. President Grego- 
rian, at the podium . . ." In the picture. 
President Gregorian appears to be on 



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BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 5 



stage with honorees, but he is definitely 
not at, on, or near "an elevated platform 
for an orchestra conductor, lecturer, or 
the like" (\The\ Amerlcnn Heritnge Dictio- 
nary, Houghton Mifflin), or "a small 
platform for the conductor of an orches- 
tra, for a public speaker, etc." {The Ran- 
dom House College Dictiojinn/). He does 
appear, however, to be standing behind 
a LECTERN, "any stand that serves as a 
support for the notes or books of a speak- 
er" (Amerieaii Heritage Dictionary). Sure- 
ly you don't want to lower yourselves to 
the level of those who are contributing 
to the imprecision of our language! 

Victor M. Pierce '51 

Felton, Del. 



Menial jobs? 

Editor: "Can you seriously expect some- 
one who is intelligent enough to get into 
Brown to waste ten hours a week, for four 
crucial years, scrubbing pots |for Food 
Services] when thev could be studying?" 
Sharon Lubkin asked in her letter (BAM, 
December). Maybe not when you put it 
that way. But the reality is that studying 
and having a job are not mutually exclu- 
sive. And working for UFS does not 
have to mean scrubbing pots. 

I can only speak from personal expe- 
rience, but a job at UFS taught me my 
greatest lessons about work. Signing up 
for a catering and a Gate shift was one 
of my smarter moves during Orientation 
Week four years ago. I scrubbed pizza 
pans at the Gate in the morning and 
served people like Jimmy Carter in the 
evening, and I worked over ten hours a 
week. By sophomore year I was working 
as the staffing supervisor for catering, 
and by junior year 1 was the student man- 
ager of the entire catering unit. These 
jobs have not been "menial." 1 have been 
employed since I was sixteen, but it was 
through the UFS student management 
system that 1 gained real experience. 1 
hired, trained, evaluated, and managed 
up to twenty student supervisors and 
100 student workers; served as the stu- 
dent link to the professional sector of 
the department; and played an integral 
role in organizing all the catering services 
for major University events like Com- 
mencement Week. I learned how to deal 
with people, solve problems, set goals, 
and make a difference in a real world 
setting. And yes, I guess I also learned 
to "recognize the nobility of the prole- 
tariat." Frankly, I think it's a lesson a lot 



of Brown students could stand to learn. 

Being a student and a student worker 
has made my four years at Brown even 
more challenging and fulfilling. I worked 
over twenty hours a week for the past 
three semesters, but I have still had 
plenty of time to take four challenging 
courses a semester, study hard, have fun, 
and sleep. Like most people, I structure 
my time far more efficiently when I'm 
busy. And I have also made a significant 
contribution to the cost of my education 
- I'm now earning $8.50 an hour as a 
student supervisor, thanks to an incen- 
tive-oriented pay scale and an across-the- 
board raise. I'm sorry Sharon missed out 
on all the opportunities UFS has to offer 
I, for one, learned a lot in my "menial" 
job. If I had it to do over again, I'd do it 
over again. 

Amy E. Frisch '90 

Campus 



'Puling letters' 

Editor. In a pair of puling letters (BAM, 
December), George A. Levesque ('69 
Ph.D.) embarrasses himself, his family, 
and the institution that awarded him a 
graduate degree. First, Mr. Levesque 
complains that during a recent trip to 
Brown, he lost approximately $37,000 
when his car. Burberry raincoat, and 
umbrella were stolen from a Brown 
parking lot. The theft, he argues, consti- 
tutes his contribution to the Rhode Is- 
land economy, and this contribution ex- 
empts him from further supporting the 
University. According to Mr Levesque, 
we might assume that the University 
uses the Pops Concerts as a diversionary 
tactic: it plays Fagin so that Artful 
Dodgers among the faculty and student 
body can take advantage of Mr Levesque's 
material success. Perhaps even now the 
old basketball arena is being converted 
into a Brown-run, clandestine chop shop 
for expensive foreign cars. Reading Mr 
Levesque's letter, and putting aside the 
question of whether or not he had in- 
sured his $37,000 car for theft, I failed to 
understand why Brown should have 
been punished by his personal misfor- 
tune. 

That is, I failed to understand Mr. 
Levesque's argument until I got an eye- 
ful of his second letter, in which he con- 
demned affirmative action programs as 
"unconstitutional" and "significantly re- 
sponsible for the (apparent) increase in 
black/white polarization." It is most 



telling that Mr Levesque used two letters 
to address what he obviously believes 
are two entirely separate problems, crime 
and racism. Has it ever occurred to him, 
I wonder, that those socially and econom- 
ically unable to achieve his exalted status 
might resent even the sight of his $37,000 
car, not to mention his $240 raincoat and 
$26 umbrella? 

Mr. Levesque feels that willing par- 
ticipation in affirmative action requires 
making the "speculative leap" that quali- 
fied minority candidates were once 
turned away from colleges and jobs be- 
cause of their race. His conclusion, that 
affirmative action causes racism, is re- 
markable in its vapidity. Those most an- 
gered by such programs are, I think, 
those whose iron grip on privilege might 
be loosening. 

If Mr Levesque is at all concerned 
about reducing racial and class tensions 
in the United States, I have a suggestion 
for him: use his insurance money to buy 
a second-hand Ford Festiva, and contri- 
bute the remaining cash to social and 
educational support groups near his home 
in Albany. Brown and Providence are 
better off without his visits. 

Christopher Bannon '85 

Carrboro, N.C. 



'Tomorrow's 
Professors . . . ' 

Editor. In the December issue, I read an 
article entitled "Tomorrow's Professors 
Are Here Today." Most of it was quite 
interesting, and having done research 
myself, I can well sympathize with the 
graduate students' grievances. Then 1 
came across a quote from John Farrell. 
According to him, academic careers at- 
tract people without "ulterior motives 
. . . whereas many people in medicine 
and law may not really love their field 
but are attracted to the prestige and the 
money." 

As a medical student at Northwest- 
ern University Medical School, I know 
for a fact that I and the vast majority of 
my classmates have dedicated ourselves 
to the medical profession because we 
love it. How else could we stand up to 
the grueling hours? How else could we 
bear the weight of so many heavy books 
and so many exhausting exams? How 
else could we face up to the fact that 95 
percent of all pathologies are incurable? 
And how could we possibly endure the 
thought of trying to balance all this with 



6 / MARCH 1990 



a semi-normal family and personal life? 
The answer to these and many more 
questions is because we love what we 
do. 

In a society where medical care has 
become a commodity and malpractice a 
common practice, in a time where resi- 
dents earn $3 to $7 an hour to pay back 
their six-digit debts and to ease their 
sleepless nights, prestige and money are 
no longer - if they ever were - principal 
attractive forces luring people into the 
field. It is the opportunity to help, to 
counsel, to cure, to comfort, to research, 
teach, and learn that keep us where we 
are, proud to be in medicine. 

Dmvn R. Weiner '86 

Chicago 



Editor: As a 77 Brown Ph.D. who's been 
rattling around the adjunct halls of 
academe for the past twelve years, I was 
interested in "Tomorrow's Professors Are 
Here Today" and its effervescent predic- 
tions for bullish new economies in the 
academic marketplace. Prognosticators 
like William Bowen (co-author of 
Prospects for Faculty in the Arts and Sci- 
ences) lead one to think that the current 
professoriate consists of two generations: 
(1 ) today's graduate students, scrubbed 
and polished "new professionals" poised 
to fill the breach when (2) yesterday's 
"gray" elite - who launched academic 
careers during the go-go fifties and sixties 
- contemplate dotage and, statistically 
speaking, prepare gracefully to dry up 
and blow away. 

This simplistic model of demographic 
molt entirely dismisses my generation of 
seventies Ph.D.'s. We are relegated to the 
junk heap of cut lines about philosophy 
doctorates driving cabs and attendant 
mythologies romancing a "lost genera- 
tion" of graduate students who entered 
a profession of radically diminishing re- 
turns and countered by generally butting 
out of academic life and settling into ca- 
reers as janitors and disaffected thirty- 
something insurance agents. 

The only thing missing from that lost 
generation is membership in the tradi- 
tional university culture. Integers in the 
1970-80 "down cycle," as Bowen puts it, 
we became convenient solutions, in fact, 
to fiscal crises in higher education (tax 
revolts, recessions, tenure saturations, 
declining enrollments, etc.) as adminis- 
trators exploited the academic labor 
market by turnstiling surplus Ph.D.'s 
through the groves of academe and, as 



an unintended consequence perhaps, 
mired an entire generation in subclass 
appointments. The winners in this have 
been the fifties- and sixties-generation 
humanities professoriate whose tenure 
and sabbaticals and course loads and 
merit raises and research funding have 
been paid for by a workhorse mid-gen- 
eration of service faculty variously de- 
scribed, in the insensitive epithets of 
academic humor, as gypsy scholars, aca- 
demic braceros, and - the ultimate oxy- 



moron coined by a past president of the 
Modern Language Association - "inside 
outsiders." It might throw a wrench in 
Bowen's statistical machinery to note 
that we are still around, still yet to be 
reckoned with by his neat models and 
apparently invisible from his Mellon and 
Princeton vantage points. 

Bowen's Randthink rhetoric of "mar- 
ket adjustments," "supply/demand ra- 
tios," and the OPECesque "flow of peo- 
ple through the graduate education 



t 



K 



OU 



Campus Dance. 



must 



Reunion registration 
form sent by their class. 
The Campus Dance 
/% Office will be open 



One of Brown's best- 
loved traditions, it's 
a time when the f April 16 through 

65th reunion ')r (^ Vl/l i^ Vl/l t) C^IT f^^X 24, 9 am to 
celebrants I \^ I I ik^ I I LLJK^ I 4 pm. In Maddock 

share the dance ^ Alumni Center 

floor with the senior f / • (401 863- 1 027). Table 

mis. 



class. 

Come dance 
beneath the stars on 
Friday, May 25th. Duke Belaire's 
orchestra will swing on the Main 
Green while a rock band will 
keep things jumping on Lincoln 
Field, beginning at 9 pm and 
ending at I am. 

Use this order form to reserve 
your tickets today! Reunion 
classes should order tickets 
through the March 



X' 




orders will be honored 
on a first-come, first- 
served basis and can only be made 
through the mail. No phone 
reservations will be accepted for 
tables or tickets. Orders received 
after May 16 will be 
held at Maddock 
Alumni Center, 38 
Brown Street, through 
I I pm on May 25. 



► ► ► ► ► 



>'>■>>■ 



Tickets at $ 1 2 each 
(will be $17 at the door) 
Tables for 1 at $50 each* 

Tables for 30 at $75 each* 

Tables for 50 at $ 1 00 each* 



CLASS OR AFFILIATION 



NAME TO APPEAR ON CAMPUS DANCE TABLE MAP 



ADDRESS (FOR TICKETS AND TABLE CONFIRMATIONS) 



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University) to: Campus Dance 
Box 1859 Brown University 
Providence, RI029I2 

*Table price does not include the cost 
of tickets 



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refunds in the event of rain. 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 7 




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process" diminishes the ethical depth of 
academe's self-scrutiny today, and, may- 
be worse, perpetuates hoaxes about aca- 
demic life in the next decade and beyond. 
It is true that many search committees 
worship the cult of academic youth. But 
I would only remind today's graduate 
students that I will still be teaching when 
their children matriculate with Ph.D.'s 
and enter Mr. Bowen's goosestepping 
parade of "supply/demand ratios" and, 
in their turn, slug it out to gain a foothold 
in academic life. For every one position 
advertised in English departments for 
appointment in 1990-91, today's gradu- 
ates compete with a pool of 300 appli- 
cants. Given present increases in gradu- 
ate student enrollments inspired by 
dream-weavers like Mr. Bowen, contin- 
ued downward pressure on undergrad- 
uate "applicant pools," and the plucky 
determination of academic braceros 
(many of whom actually write decent 
books and distinguish themselves in the 
classroom), Mr. Bowen and (co-author) 
Ms. Sosa presume to estimate that in six 
years that 300:1 ratio will plummet to 
1.2:1! 

Today's "professional student/- 
teacher" humanities graduate student 
may come to realize that Bowen and 
Sosa's reified statistical machinations are, 
at best, misleading and, at worst, con jobs. 
Bowen's economic quanta serve only the 
interests of high-dividend graduate pro- 
grams and professional schools and the 
increasingly powerful corporate arm of 
university culture bent on self-interest, 
exploitation of cheap labor, and survival 
in an age of brutal competitiveness for 
human and capital resources and a wor- 
ship of prestige that drives the millstones 
of graduate education - all of which 
should not be confused with any moral 
quandary over "who will teach tomor- 
row's undergraduates." 

Bowen and Sosa's demographic prog- 
nostications ought not to detract from 
the real problems of specialization, pro- 
fessionalization, and ethnic nihilism we 
face as educators - issues that threaten, 
as suggested by the provocative title of a 
new book by Bruce Wilshire, The Moral 
Collapse of the Universiti/. 

Without its moral center, the "not . . . 
cheerful picture" of academe's demo- 
graphic demise constructed by Bowen 
and Sosa doesn't seem so cheerless after 
all. 

David D. Cooper '77 Ph.D. 

East Lansing, Mich. 



Commenting vs. 
critiquing 

Editor. Generally, 1 look forward to read- 
ing James Reinbold's column on books 
written by Brown alumni and other 
members of the University community. In 
fact, as a student, 1 find that reading it is 
one of the best ways to find out more 
about a particular professor's interests, 
endeavors, and scholarly achievements. 
Occasionally, I even choose to pursue 
stuciies with professors partially based 
on that knowledge. 1 also feel that the 
column serves an additional function 
for any current Brown students who 
read it: by marking the success former 
Brown students have had in the writing 
arena, it gives some inspiration to any- 
one here who hopes to achieve similar 
success in the future. 

And usually, Reinbold's profiles and 
notes on the authors and their works in- 
clude a good balance of information - 
just enough to perk one's interest, to send 
one out to the bookstore to pick up the 
book, and to read it and judge it oneself. 

Reading Reinbold's column on 
Three Thousand Dollars {BAM, December), 
a collection of short stories by David 
Lipsky '87, was, therefore, both a surprise 
and a disappointment: instead of merely 
commenting on some of the controversy 
surrounding the book and the book it- 
self, Reinbold decided to critique it. 

Reinbold implicitly condemns Lip- 
sky's work for being what Reinbold 
seems to perceive as too autobiographi- 
cal and too journalistic in style, suggest- 
ing that Lipsky's book "masqueradelsl 
as fiction." He declares that the ending 
of one story is "trite" and that attempts 
to joke about an eating disorder in an- 
other "fails" (whether or not the latter is 
true or not, humor and health, as many 
doctors will tell you, are closely hnked). 
Further, Reinbold criticizes Lipsky for 
writing in the third person, declaring 
that "(stories . . .1 told in the third per- 
son . . . still seem like first-person narra- 
tions, failing to achieve the necessary 
omniscience." (As a comparative litera- 
ture concentrator, I find such assertions 
to be lacking in logic, if not ludicrous.) 
Finally, Reinbold does not seem to be 
content with merely criticizing the au- 
thor's work; he can't seem to refrain 
from commenting on the author himself, 
saying that Lipsky - when reading his 
work at Brown - spoke "quickly, in a 
high-pitched, nervous voice." 



8 / MARCH 1990 



Never have I seen such a "review" 
and of such a negative sort in [the] BAM. 
Although Reinbold scatters a few com- 
plimentary comments (which, for the 
most part, come across as rather conde- 
scending) through the column on Lipsky, 
was it necessary for Reinbold to "judge" 
this work at all when others by Brown 
alumni have not been subject to such 
criticisms? To the best of my recollec- 
tion, all profiles prior to Reinbold's on 
Lipsky have consisted of objective de- 
scriptions of the contents of the various 
books and rather ordinary, non-subjec- 
tive commentary on the credentials and 
accomplishments of the authors. I find 
myself wondering what reason accounts 
for the change in Reinbold's style of pre- 
senting information on Brown books and 
whether or not future columns will "re- 
view" books similarily - or was Rein- 
bold's criticism of Lipsky a one-time 
thing, reserved for one author who hap- 
pens to criticize Brown in one story? 

1 can't help but feel that Reinbold has 
failed the Brown community by writing 
about Lipsky as he did. Although some 
of Reinbold's criticisms may indeed be 
valid (the narrators do seem a little too 
similar for my tastes, too), it is a shame 
that he chose to evaluate Lipsky, a 
promising young author and alumnus, 
so stringently - for in doing so, he has 
probably dissuaded people from read- 
ing Lipsky's work and that, I believe, is 
a disservice to the Brown community. 
As a friend to students here who are in- 
terested in creative writing and who 
have been inspired by Lipsky's success, 
I find it saddening to see a recent Brown 
graduate criticized on the pages of an 
alumni magazine that should be eagerly 
praising his achievements. Can other 
Brown authors, should they be fortunate 
enough to find a bit of fame on the pages 
of The Neu' Yorker or praise from a writer 
like the late Raymond Carver, look for- 
ward to similar acclaim? 

It's also a shame, in some ways, that 
Reinbold chooses to evaluate any author 
at all. Brown students and alumni have 
always been capable of forming their own 
judgments and arriving at their own con- 
clusions; such critical reasoning is, after 
all, one of the skills that Brown helps to 
instill. It is unfortunate and a "not-so- 
funny thing" that, instead of supporting 
the efforts of Lipsky with as much objec- 
tivity and enthusiasm as [the] BAM has 
for other Brown authors in the past, 
I the) BAM chose to do otherwise. Unless 
a uniform policy of praising and criticiz- 



ing all other Brown authors in subset^uent 
profiles is adopted, I hope that [the] BAM 
will leave future "reviews" to the New 
York Times and literary journals and sim- 
ply stick to more factual accounts of the 
books instead. 

Lnureh/n Douglas '92 

Campus 
As is the case in most periodicals, hook re- 
views in the Alumni Monthly reflect the 
opirjions of the reviewer and are not intend- 
ed to serve as promotional pieces. - Editor 



The band 

Editor: E.A. Gros' emotionally charged 
letter (BAM, June/July) in defense of the 
Brown Band calls out for a reply. 

Those fans who sat through the half- 
time antics of the band during last 
year's football season and, specifically 
the Maine game, continue to be ap- 
palled by the band's insulting behavior 
and lack of feeling for the home crowd. 

The band is indeed a musical plus at 



the Brown games but their scripts are 
thoughtless and crude. The time has 
come to exercise control of these half- 
time programs and of the band's mis- 
guided leaders and advisors. 

President Gregorian, we need your 
wisdom and action. 

/. William Fhjnn '59 

Peabody, Mass. 



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BROWN ALUMNI IVlONTHLY / 9 




After twelve years as provost, Maurice 
Glicksman returns to research and teaching 



For the last twelve 
years, a faint, musky 
tang of cigar smoke lias 
greeted visitors to the first 
floor of University Hall, the 
fumes hovering most no- 
ticeably in the vicinity of the 
provost's office. Big, pungent 
cigars are a trademark of 
Maurice Glicksman, a physi- 
cist who has held top admin- 
istrative posts at the Univer- 
sity since 1974 and has been 
provost since 1978. Now 
GUcksman is leaving Univer- 
sity Hall to return to his first 
loves, research anci teaching. 
His resignation, effective 
June 30, was announced by 
President Gregorian at the 
February 9 meeting of the 
Brown Corporation. 

The departure appeared 
to be not only amicable, but 
downright cozy. "In the fall 
of 1988 when the Corpora- 
tion selected me as the six- 
teenth president of Brown 
University," explained Gre- 
gorian in a memo to the fac- 
ulty and in remarks to the 
Corporation, "1 asked my 
friend Maurice Glicksman 
to postpone his personal 
agenda and to continue to 
serve the University as pro- 
vost. ... He did so with en- 
ergy, grace, and dedication. 
Now after eighteen months. 
Provost Glicksman has 



i|piiiiiaiBBi1nH-gi-|-iifi-« 




t r^ 



After a year's sabbatical, Maurice Glicksman 

will return to his position as University Professor 

and will be involved in further strengthening of 

materials reseeuch at Browm. 



asked me to approve his re- 
quest for a sabbatical leave 
for 1990-1991, and he has 
also informed me of his de- 
sire to relinquish his posi- 
tion as provost effective the 
end of this academic year. 
... I have approved his re- 
quest for leave and reluc- 
tantly accede to his request 
to change his responsibili- 
ties." 

Glicksman, said Grego- 
rian, will return to his posi- 
tion as University Professor 
and professor of engineer- 
ing, and will be involved in 
the further strengthening of 
materials research at Brown. 
In addition, Gregorian an- 
nounced the creation of two 



honors in Glicksman's name: 
one for teaching excellence 
and the other a graduate 
fellowship. 

The old saw, "gone but 
not forgotten," comes to mind 
when one contemplates 
Glicksman's departure from 
University administration. 
His influence on academic 
life at Brown since the mid- 
1970s has been powerful 
and sustained, and long af- 
ter the low-ceilinged rooms 
of U.H. have been aired of 
cigar smoke, the University 
will be living out at least 
some semblance of his vi- 
sion for it. 

Glicksman's tenure as 
provost may best be remem- 



bered for his controversial 
faculty staffing plan of 1985- 
86, which set goals and limits 
for each department as well 
as general academic goals 
for the University into the 
next century. No new facul- 
ty positions were added by 
the plan; rather, some posi- 
tions vacated through retire- 
ment and attrition were re- 
assigned to areas targeted 
for fortification. Then-Presi- 
dent Howard Swearer 
called the report "the most 
far-reaching review of our 
academic programs in the 
University's recent history." 
It resulted in the building 
up of promising new areas 
of scholarship, such as cog- 
nitive science and interna- 
tional studies; some faculty, 
however, complained that 
the plan did so at the ex- 
pense of traditional disci- 
plines. 

Glicksman rode out the 
complaints, adhering stout- 
ly to a vision for Brown that 
he described as "the best 
small university in the coun- 
try." Achieving such a dis- 
tinction, he insisted, would 
entail "being willing to in- 
novate with new approach- 
es and new ideas, and . . . 
continuing to support areas 
that are strong." 

Now that he is leaving 



10 / MARCH 1990 



his highly visible post, 
Glicksman counts the devel- 
opment and support of in- 
terdisciplinary programs, 
and the recruitment of lead- 
ers for them - such as World 
Hunger Program Director 
Robert Kates and Center for 
Public Policy head Thomas 
Anton, now dean of the fac- 
ulty - among his most sig- 
nificant accomplishments. 
In addition to this, what do 
you hope to be remembered 
for?, he is asked. 

"For building the quality 
of the faculty through junior 
and senior appointments," 
Glicksman says. "I'm pleased 
also that I was able to bring 
in some outstanding admin- 
istrators, such as [Vice Presi- 
dent for Computing and In- 
formation Services] Brian 
Hawkins and [University 
Librarian] Merrily Taylor." 
Other sources of pride, he 
adds, are his support for the 
development of computer 
science and of computing 
initiatives across the cam- 
pus, and his leadership role 
in the internationalization 
of the curriculum. 

Maurice Glicksman 
came to Brown in 1969 as 
University Professor and 
professor of engineering af- 
ter spending fifteen years 
heading research groups for 
RCA Laboratories in Prince- 
ton and Tokyo. He did his 
undergraduate work in en- 
gineering physics at Queen's 
University in Ontario, and 
received his master's and 
doctoral degrees in physics 
from the University of 
Chicago. His research spe- 
cialty is the electrical trans- 
port properties of semicon- 
ductors. 

Then-President Donald 
Hornig named Glicksman 
dean of the Graduate School 
in 1974. The following year, 
he acted as one of the Uni- 
versity's chief negotiators, 
along with then-Dean of the 
Facultv Jacquelyn Mattfeld, 
during the Third World 



Coalition's occupation of 
University Hall. In June 
1976, Glicksman was named 
dean of the faculty and aca- 
demic affairs, a title he re- 
tained after being made pro- 
vost by Howard Swearer in 
1978. He continued as 
provost when the dean of 
the faculty job was made a 
separate position in 1986. 
As provost, he has been re- 
sponsible for academic bud- 
gets and staffing (except for 
the Program in Medicine), 
the University libraries, 
computing and information 
services, the registrar's of- 
fice, special studies and 
summer programs, and a 
number of other projects. 

Glicksman intends to 
spend his upcoming sabbat- 
ical year traveling to labora- 
tories and institutions in 
this country, Japan, and Eu- 
rope that do research on the 
properties of materials. He 
hasn't worked in the labora- 
tory himself since 1982, but 
has stayed current in the 
field by reviewing six to ten 
articles a year for leading 
physics journals, he says. 

Upon completion of his 
sabbatical leave, Glicksman 



will serve as a special advi- 
sor to the president, at Gre- 
gorian's request. While his 
responsibilities, says Glicks- 
man, will be up to the presi- 
dent, he hopes they may 
dovetail with his aspirations 
for materials science at the 
University. 

When the trustees rose 
to salute Glicksman upon 
hearing of his resignation, 
the provost was temporarily 
overcome. "Vartan Gregori- 
an said that he'd never seen 
me at a loss for words be- 
fore," says Glicksman with 
a smile. He recovered quick- 
ly: "I told the Corporation 
that I'd soon be seeing them 
to get support for my area 
of research." 

His feelings about Brown 
seem to go beyond fondness 
to a deep institutional loyal- 
ty. "One of the decisions I 
made in the last few years 
was not to move to another 
institution," Glicksman 
says. Several universities 
asked him to become a can- 
didate for president, but he 
eventually told them no. 
"Brown is such a good 
place, it's hard to go to an- 
other university," he says. 



"Also, several years ago I 
decided that a presidency is 
not the kind of job I'd enjoy 
doing. A president needs to 
have leadership characteris- 
tics, but he also must be 
willing to sacrifice his per- 
sonal interests and his 
scholarship in order to raise 
money and provide finan- 
cial support for the institu- 
tion. 1 felt 1 wouldn't appre- 
ciate doing that, nor would 
I be the best person to do it." 

President Gregorian's 
next major appointment 
will be that of Glicksman's 
successor, and he plans to 
make his decision within 
the month. It is expected 
that he will choose a senior 
member of the Brown facul- 
ty to be the next provost, 
rather than going outside 
the University. 

Until his successor is in 
place, however, the current 
provost will be on hand in 
University Hall to offer the 
president his unique brand 
of academic advice - sea- 
soned bv experience and ac- 
cented with a puff of smoke 
from his ever-present cigar. 
-AD. 




In January, workmen 
returned Alumnae 
Hall's chandelier, 

cleaned and restored, 

to its origincil home. 

It was taken down 

for repair several 

years ago and 

somehow ended up 
at the Providence 

Public Library (BAM, 
March 1989). 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 11 



Nearing twenty-one, 


the New Curriculum 


becomes the Brown Curriculum and 


receives a (mostly) clean bill of health 

A 


/ \ s its twenty-first 




||p, ^ ^^I^H 






d. \. birthday draws 
nigh, the New Curriculum 




it>.... ^H 


^^^^^H^^^^i||tate 








officially has been renamed 




■i 1 




fel 




the Brown Curriculum, and 






^^K ^ ^.^i^^lVMNH|IH£te 


i ^ 




a year-long review by Dean 




^H 






of the College Sheila Blum- 




^H 


■j^V ^ '^ 


E 




stein has pronounced the 




^^1 


^^^^^H^^^^v 


IL 1 




l'^69 educational reforms 




i^^l 


^^^^^^^^H 


m^ r 




"on balance ... a resound- 




^jH 


^^H '^" §^ 




ing success." President Var- 




dH^I 


^^H "^M^. 




tan Gregorian presented 




^B^H 


^^^^^■r. -M^ ^Bk^^- 




Blumstein's report to the 




^B 






faculty for their review on 




^^M 






February 6. Blumstein says 




^^M 


^H^«2^^M^, 




that she already has received 




^^M 




letters from some faculty 




w ^^^1 




X 


members, and she plans to 




^^^H 


^^H^(^^^^^^^v 


y 


pass those, as well as Gre- 
gorian's suggestions, to the 
College Curriculum Council 
for review; the CCC's re- 


ri 1^1 


■LH^Mf^i 




H 


Dean of the College Sbeila Blumstein 's new report says that the 


sponse is expected in April. 


1969 reforms have given Brown strong, rich concentration programs. 


The report, entitled The 


but that for a small minority who narrowly limit their 


Brown Curriculum Twenty 


focus, 


the University fails to provide breadth. 


Years Later: A Review of the 






Past and a Working Agenda 


now total eighty-three, 57 


posed to seventy-six in 1974. 


manities concentrators) are 


for the Future, concludes that 


percent interdisciplinary, of- 


However, during those years 


severely restricting their 


Brown is doing an e.xcellent 


fering stucients "a far larger 


thirty-six standard interdis- 


scope. The report recom- 


job of giving students depth 


variety of paths through the 


ciplinary concentrations were 


mends that Brown imple- 


of education through rigor- 


curriculum than our peer 


added, a factor Blumstein 


ment a coherent University- 


ous and varied concentration 


institutions." Although re- 


says may be decreasing the 


wide program of general 


programs. The vast majority 


quirements vary from one 


demand for independent 


education. 


of undergraduates study a 


department or program to 


programs. 


In 1969, when the curricu- 


broad range of subjects. 


the next, the average num- 


The report challenges the 


lum was revised, most Amer- 


Blumstein found. However, 


ber of courses required for 


myth that without distribu- 


ican universities provided 


she concluded that for a 


an A.B. concentration is ten. 


tion requirements, students 


general education through 


small minority (10 percent) 


for an Sc.B. concentration. 


overspecialize: statistics from 


one of three models: a corpus 


who narrowly focus their 


seventeen. Most honors stu- 


the Registrar's Office indicate 


of "Great Books," a "core 


studies, the University fails 


dents take an additional 


that more than 90 percent of 


curriculum," or distribution 


to provide sufficient breadth. 


two. 


Brown's class of 1989 would 


requirements. The student 


Brown's "system of aca- 


"The only disappoint- 


meet such guidelines, taking 


authors of the New Curricu- 


demic concentrations [as 


ment," Blumstein writes of 


at least two courses in each 


lum recommended eliminat- 


opposed to the standard dis- 


the concentration programs. 


of three academic areas (the 


ing Brown's existing distri- 


ciplinary majors offered by 


"has been the more recent 


sciences, social sciences, and 


bution requirements, pro- 


most schools! has been one 


reluctance of Brown students 


humanities). In fact, 84 


posing instead a fourth al- 


of the great successes of the 


to take advantage of the op- 


percent took three courses 


ternative: an extensive se- 


1969 reform," the report 


portunity for independent 


in each area, and 75 percent 


ries of interdisciplinary 


states. The University's sup- 


concentrations." According 


took four, or two years' study 


Modes of Thought (MOT) 


port of interdisciplinary 


to the report, only twenty- 


in each area. Nevertheless, 


seminars designed to intro- 


study has led to an increase 


three members of the class 


Blumstein points out, 10 


duce freshmen and sopho- 


in the number and variety 


of 1988 completed indepen- 


percent of Brown students 


mores to a broad range of 


of concentrations, which 


dent concentrations, as op- 


(nearly all of whom are hu- 


intellectual ideas and meth- 



12 / MARCH 1990 



ods. The notion was that 
such a foundation, in com- 
bination with close advising 
and faculty contact, would 
enable each student to frame 
his or her own program re- 
sponsibly and thoughtfully. 
Students would learn not 
only from the content of their 
courses, but also from the 
process of putting together 
a program, leaving Brown 
with the skills and the inde- 
pendence to teach them- 
selves throughout their lives. 

Largely because of the 
cost of developing a suffi- 
cient number of MOT's, the 
faculty voted down the gen- 
eral education component 
of the New Curriculum, 
states Blumstein's report, 
and MOT's were instituted 
in a limited manner. Over 
the intervening years, their 
number dwindled, and other, 
similar courses were added. 
"There are a lot of these 
courses," Blumstein says. 
"But have we organized 
them in a coherent way? 
Are they easily identifiable 
in the course catalogue? 
This is something the dean 
of the faculty and I can do." 

For general education to 
work within the Brown 
Curriculum, she says, "the 
departments, programs, and 
concentrations need to take 
ownership of their responsi- 
bility for general education, 
just as they do for graduate 
education and for their con- 
centrations." 

Although the review 
finds the level of faculty- 
student contact at Brown to 
be quite high, it reports prob- 
lems with the advising sys- 
tem, and states that "academ- 
ic advising for sophomores 
is not sufficient to meet their 
educational needs." Blumstein 
recommends that sophomores 
continue to be advised by 
the person who counseled 
them freshman year. The re- 
port proposes that students 
who excessively restrict their 
studies might be required to 



defend their choices before 
an academic council. 

But in an interview, 
Blumstein indicates that she 
is not likely to push such 
students further: "Advising 
is crucial," she says. "We have 
to feel sure that we reached 
those students, that they 
didn't fall through the cracks. 
But for that small minority 
who are determined to re- 
main narrow, I think you 
have to let them do it." She 
points out that similar stu- 
dents at schools with more 
traditional curricula manip- 
ulate the system to avoid 
areas they find uncomfort- 
able, using one course to fill 
two requirements. "Some- 
times," she says, "the intel- 
lectual clock is ticking at its 
own pace, and a student just 
isn't ready for everything at 
once. The mark of the edu- 
cated person is knowing that 
you don't know everything 
and having the ability to ask. 
As long as we give them that, 
I think we're doing okay." 

If the activities of recent 
Brown alumni are a valid 
measure, the curriculum 
seems to have prepared stu- 
dents well for such a lifetime 
of learning. Blumstein cites 
in her report the conclusions 
of the 1987 Yankelovich sur- 
vey of Brown alumni from 
the classes of 1973 through 
1985: although only 19 per- 
cent went on to graduate 
school immediately after 
Brown, 49 percent had com- 
pleted an advanced degree, 
and 83 percent reported that 
they were either taking cours- 
es or enrolled in a graduate 
program. Thirty-four percent 
of the advanced degrees 
earned by those alumni were 
from Ivy League schools, and 
72 percent were from those 
or other highly competitive 
graduate institutions. Only 
10 percent of the alumni had 
earned doctoral degrees (21 
percent held law degrees and 
23 percent, M.D.'s). Howev- 
er, Blumstein's report points 



out that a recent Georgetown 
University study ranked 
Brown highly in terms of 
the percentage of its alumni 
receiving doctorates: Brown 
ranked twelfth nationally in 
1977-86. 

Blumstein reports that in 
recent years Brown and oth- 
er universities have seen a 
marked increase in student 
interest in the social sciences, 
at the expense of the natural 
sciences, particularly the 
physical sciences. The hu- 
manities seem to be holding 
their own, she notes. She 
says at Brown the shift has 
created overcrowding in 
newly popular areas - pub- 
lic policy and economics 
courses, among others - and 
her report suggests that the 
University will have to aci- 
just either its admissions ef- 
fort or its staffing to ease the 
imbalance. 

The goal of the curricu- 
lar review, said President 
Vartan Gregorian, was "to 
see what we Ivy League in- 
stitutions have in common 
in the realm of curriculum, 
to test our curriculum for its 
rigor, and to see if we had 
done justice to its promise 
. . . ." Blumstein drew on 
data compiled by several of 
Brown's administrative 
offices, results of the Yan- 
kelovich survey, and com- 
parative data from other Ivy 
League schools. 

The 1969 curricular re- 
forms decreased the number 
of course credits retjuired for 
a Brown degree to twenty- 
eight, in order to encourage 
students to take more aca- 
demic risks. Students were 
expected to take thirty-two 
courses - eight a year - and 
were not allowed to use ad- 
vanced placement credits 
earned in high school toward 
their degree (most of Brown's 
peer institutions count AP 
credits). 

In the spring of 1988, 
however, the faculty voted 
to increase Brown's degree 



requirement to thirty cours- 
es, starting with the class of 
1993. Blumstein's report in- 
dicates that 87 percent of the 
class of 1988 passed more 
than the minimum twenty- 
eight courses, and 41 percent 
passed thirty-two or more. 
In light of Brown's refusal 
to count AP credits, the re- 
port states, "Brown students 
probably take more, not fewer, 
courses than those in other 
Ivy League institutions where 
nominal course recjuirements 
are higher." 

The report says student 
use of the satisfactory /no 
credit grade option "has con- 
formed to faculty expecta- 
tions"; 86 percent of the S/NC 
grades issued to members of 
the class of 1989 were in 
courses outside their concen- 
tration. The use of S/NC has 
dropped from 60 percent in 
1969-70 to 25 percent. 

Brown's divergence from 
the traditional educational 
models employed by its peer 
institutions is a difference of 
means, not ends, Blumstein 
writes in her report. She 
points out that the reforms of 
1969 were in keeping with the 
spirit expressed in 1850, when 
in his remarks to the Corpo- 
ration, President Francis Way- 
land criticized the orthodox 
curricular methods of his day, 
asserting that "the various 
courses should be arranged 
so that, insofar as is practi- 
cable, every student might 
study what he chose, all that 
he chose, and nothing but 
what he chose." Rhetorically, 
Wayland asked, "Is th^re not 
reason to hope, that by ren- 
dering this study less com- 
pulsory . . . we shall raise it 
from its present depression 
and derive from it all the 
benefit which it is able to 
confer?" 

Blumstein's report indi- 
cates that encouraging stu- 
dents to study what, and only 
what, they choose is as ap- 
propriate in 1990 as it was 
in 1850. -C.B.H. 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 13 



Non-discrimination policy 
statement clarified 



At its December 8 
meeting, the Advi- 
sory and Executive (A&E) 
Committee of the Corpora- 
tion amended Brown's offi- 
cial non-discrimination policy 
statement, clarifying the 
University's existing prohibi- 
tion of discrimination based 
on sexual orientation. The 
policy statement, which is 
included in the University's 
admission and employment 
literature, now reads: "Brown 
University does not discrimi- 
nate on the basis of sex, race, 
color, religion, age, handicap, 
status as a veteran, national 
or ethnic origin, or sexual 
orientation in the administra- 
tion of its educational policies, 
scholarship and loan pro- 
grams, or other school-ad- 
ministered programs." 
The amendment added 



the words "or sexual orien- 
tation" to that sentence and 
deleted a second, more con- 
voluted, sentence, which 
read: "The University also 
affirms that judgments about 
admission, education, and 
personnel evaluations at 
Brown are based on merit, 
ciualifications, and perfor- 
mance and not on personal 
attributes or convictions un- 
related to academic or job 
performance, such as politi- 
cal views, marital status, 
sexual orientation, or happen- 
stance of birth." 

The changes were pro- 
posed to the A&E by Presi- 
cfent Vartan Gregorian, whose 
goal, says Vice President for 
University Relations Robert 
A. Reichley, "was simply to 
make the statement simpler 
and more direct." - C.B.H. 




Charlotte 
Tomas retires 

H. 
avmg spent most of 
the past forty years 
at Brown, first as a secretary, 
then an undergraduate, 
housemother, graduate stu- 
dent, and dean, Charlotte 
Lowney Tomas '57, '65 
A.M., retired as associate 
dean of the College in Jan- 
uary. 

During Tomas's nearly 
thirty years in the deanery, 
she served as a generalist and 
a counselor, wearing many 
hats. "Charlotte was a great 



Charlotte Tomas: "a great 
pitcber-inneT. " 

supporter of Brown and Pem- 
broke and a disciple of Hen- 
ry Wriston," says former 
Dean of the College Harriet 
Sheridan. "I could always 
depend on her. When I need- 
ed someone to resuscitate 
the Resumed Undergraduate 
Education Program, she 
brought it around, turning 
it into the very active and 
lively group it is today." 
When the Committee on the 
Status of Women was dis- 
banded, Sheridan says, she 
turned to Tomas to revive it. 

"I remember saying of 
Charlotte that the Red Sox 
had missed a great bet," 
Sheridan says. "She was a 
great pitcher-inner." 

When Tomas retired, she 
was coordinating dean of 
freshmen, although she may 
be best remembered by stu- 
dents as "the unofficial dean 
of sophomores," as Sheridan 
puts it. Tomas "made stu- 
dents feel cared about when 
she counseled them," Sheri- 
dan says. - C.B.H. 



At 6.4 percent, next year's 

tuition increase is the 

lowest in twenty years 



At its February 10 
meeting, the Brown 
Corporation set tuition for 
the College and the Graduate 
School at $15,295 for 1990-91, 
a 6.4-percent increase over 
this year's costs and the low- 
est percentage tuition in- 
crease at Brown in more 
than twenty years. 

The total charges for im- 
dergraduates next year will 
be $20,720, up 6.9 percent. 



They include $2,920 for room 
charges, up 9.4 percent; $2,060 
in board, up 7.3 percent, and 
$445 in health and activities 
fees, up 7.2 percent. 

"Tuition and fees account 
for 54.8 percent of our oper- 
ating budget," said Senior 
Vice President for Finance 
and Administration Freder- 
ick Bohen. That figure, he 
said, "is much higher than 
that of our peers." Brown 



must rely heavily on tuition 
and fees to cover operating 
expenses because the Univer- 
sity's endowment income is 
relatively small; Brown's 
endowment, at $410 million 
last summer, is the smallest 
in the Ivy League. 

"The University is oper- 
ating in very difficult finan- 
cial terrain," said Robert A. 
Reichley, vice president for 
University relations. "The 
Corporation has struggled 
to maintain existing pro- 
grams and has had to post- 
pone meeting many urgent 
and pressing needs. More 
than at any time during the 
last two decades. Brown has 



very little room to maneu- 
ver" 

The Advisory Commit- 
tee on University Planning, 
which makes recommenda- 
tions to the Corporation 
concerning the budget, has 
proposed that Brown in- 
crease its financial-aid bud- 
get by 7.4 percent, from $18.7 
million this year to $20.1 
million in 1990-91. Such an 
increase would allow finan- 
cial-aid awards to keep pace 
with the increases in tuition 
and fees. It would not in- 
crease the percentage of stu- 
dents who receive financial 
aid. -A.D. 



14 / MARCH 1990 



No more hazing, say current and 

past Psi U presidents Suong Hyunb 

'91 and John Euler '90 outside 

the fraternity bouse. 




Psi U becomes first Brown 
fraternity to abolish pledging 



It's that time of year: rush. 
Many freshmen are mak- 
ing the rounds of Brown's 
residential fraternities and 
sororities, getting to know 
some of the brothers and 
sisters, and hoping for a bid 
that will make them one of 
the chosen group. But one 
Brown chapter of a national 
fraternity has taken the anx- 
iety out of rush by dramati- 
cally altering the rules. 

In what officers describe 
as a big leap, but also the 
logical next step in a series 
of changes to initiation rites, 
the Brown coed chapter of 
the Psi Upsilon fraternity 
voted on February 4 to abol- 
ish pledging. Any student 
willing to commit to the 
spirit and comradeship of 
Psi U need only submit his 
or her bid card to become 
an associate brother. 

Challenged by their na- 
tional office to implement 
creative alternatives to 
pledging, Psi U has found a 
new rite of passage: educa- 
tion. A sense of Psi U's own 
history will now form the 
core of its membership's 
identity. "What binds the 
brothers in Psi U is Psi U," 
explains John Euler '90, 
rush captain and former 
chapter president. "Now in- 



stead of getting a beer for 
someone at 2:30 in the 
morning, [pledges! will be 
responsible for knowing the 
seven founding fathers or 
the traditional songs." 

But the pledges are not 
the only ones responsible 
for such information. Cur- 
rent members will have to 
meet the same qualifica- 
tions as the incoming asso- 
ciate brothers. By extending 
the process of "initiation" to 
the whole house, Psi U 
hopes not only to erase the 
divisions that develop along 
graduating-class lines, but 
also to reinforce the Psi U 
identity by annually boning 
up on its history. 

The notion that enough 
beer, chased with a few 
goldfish, would endear 
pledges to a fraternity and 
form the foundations of re- 
spect and identity within 
the brotherhood of a chap- 
ter was once typical of 
Greek organizations. Initia- 
tion often took the form of 
pranks, scavenger hunts, 
and drinking games. 

In recent years, Greek 
organizations have re- 
assessed their initiation 
practices when some pledg- 
ing-related deaths drew na- 
tional attention to the haz- 



ards of hazing. "The year I 
joined," notes Euler, "the 
majority of pledge activities 
stressed physical endurance 
- nothing that could edu- 
cate me about the fraternity 
or teach me to respect the 
fraternity. Gradually, as my 
class began to take over, at- 
titudes began to change." 

Psi U boasts a member- 
ship as varied as Brown's 
student body, its members 
say. Chapter president 
Suong Hyunh '91 explains, 
"We don't recruit from a 
certain crowd. We have peo- 
ple who work for the BDH, 
others who work for 
WBRU, people who volun- 
teer for Safewalk, people 
who escort at Planned Par- 
enthood. It's very diverse. 
I know 'diversity' is Brown's 
key word, but it's true here 
at Psi U." 

So how does Psi U con- 
struct a sense of identity for 
a group with such varied in- 
terests? How could anyone 
construct a sense of commu- 
nity with such heterogeneity? 

"We useci to have pledge 
activities where there were 
pledges and there were 
brothers," Euler says. "Now 
we have house activities 
where everyone is equal. 
House activities give us the 



opportunity to learn about 
the house and enjoy being 
with each other without the 
tension or fear of doing 
something wrong or saying 
something wrong. People 
can enjoy themselves." 

While the impetus for 
changes in pledging proce- 
dures on the part of the Psi 
U national office might 
seem to suggest that the 
Greek community has come 
to regret its hazardous prac- 
tices, more likely the moti- 
vation is economic, ob- 
serves Dean of Student Life 
John Robinson '67. "The 
Greek system across the 
country is suffering from a 
terrible insurance crisis," he 
explains. Hazing- and alco- 
hol-related deaths and acci- 
dents have driven house in- 
surance premiums through 
the roof. As Robinson notes, 
"The only sure way to elim- 
inate hazing is to eliminate 
pledging. 

"Pre-initiation activities 
are but a vestigial remain of 
the originally sound moti- 
vation to construct a shared 
identity," Robinson contin- 
ues. "Initiation grew from 
the impulse to require po- 
tential members to give up 
some of their individuality 
and to take on some new 
information reinforced bv 
ritual. Replacing games, 
pranks, and antics with ed- 
ucation and a community- 
service commitment would 
be extremely meaningful for 
the associate brothers, and it 
would raise the level of dig- 
nity and substance of all the 
organizations in the Greek 
system." 

Psi U leaders say they 
are as sensitive to concerns 
about hazing as they are ea- 
ger to teach their associate 
brothers the history and tra- 
ditions of their fraternity. 
Says Euler: "People don't 
need to be harassed. They 
need to be supported and 
encouraged." - Wciuli/ 
Kcffer '91 



BROWN AI.UMNI MONTHLY / 15 




The denoumeat of WWII, 

argues John Keegan, author 

of The Second World War, 

above, has been enacted 

in Eastern Europe this 

year with victory falling 

to the U.S. 

defense correspondent for 
The Daily Telegraph of Lon- 
don, Keegan formerly was 
senior lecturer at the Royal 
Military Academy at Sand- 
hurst. His new book, The 
Second World War, has won 
praise from critics and re- 
cently was the main selec- 
tion of the History Book 
Club. 

Who won the second 
world war, indeed? The an- 
swer wasn't forthcoming 
until far along in Keegan's 
address, in which he traced 
the post-war fortunes of 
nearly every country that 
played a part in the war 
Suddenly, there it was: 

"America won World 
War II," Keegan asserted. 
And it is only in the past 
twelve months, fifty years 
after the war broke out, that 
America's victory has come 
into focus, he said. The oth- 
er obvious "victors" were 
not so fortunate, Keegan ex- 
plained. The Soviet Union 




Military historian John Keegan reveals 'winner' 

of second world war - a victory consummated 

only this past year, he says 



With his thoroughly 
upper-crust, pub- 
lic-school British accent, mil- 
itary historian John Keegan 
seemed an unlikely sort to 
be clapping the Yanks on 
the back. But that's exactly 
what he did, figuratively, in 
his brisk and informative 
address in the Salomon 
Center in January. 

"Who Won the Second 
World War?" That was Kee- 
gan's topic for the lecture, 
sponsored by the manage- 
ment committee of the 
Anne S.K. Brown Militarv 
Collection, which is located 
in the John Hay Library. His 
was the first annual Anne 
S.K. Brown Memorial Lec- 
ture, named for the late wife 
of John Nicholas Brown, the 
late Brown Fellow and de- 
scendant of the family 
whose largesse resulted in 
the University's naming. 
During her lifetime, Mrs. 
Brown assembled a vast col- 
lection of material on mili- 
tary uniforms, tactics, and 
organization, which she do- 
nated to Brown in the early 
1980s. 

In his opening remarks, 
Capt. Nicholas Brown, son of 
John and Anne, reminded 
the audience that the study 
of military history holds im- 
portant lessons for everyone. 
"Near the end of her life, my 
mother said, 'War is great, 
in the sense that people are 
heroic. But let us also remem- 
ber that war is hell.' War /s 
hell," Nicholas Brown said. 
"It is something to be avoid- 
ed. If we don't learn from 
studying it, we are con- 
demned to repeat it." 

Brown introduced Kee- 
gan as "our greatest living 
historian" of war Currently 



did become a major world 
power because of its role as 
one of the Allies, but at the 
cost of enormous loss of life 
- as many as 40 million peo- 
ple, about 10 percent of its 
population. In contrast, the 
U.S. lost fewer than 300,000 
lives, and all but five were 
service personnel. 

Whereas the influence 
and prosperity of Britain 
and France declined marked- 
ly in the decades after World 
War 11, Americans' role in 
that war "changed their re- 
lationship with the whole 
world," Keegan explained. 
The war resulted in "the 
creation of a new sort of 
power - the greatest power 
ever in the history of the 
world." 

While engaged in the 
war, Keegan continued, 
America saw the size of its 
economy increase by more 
than 50 percent. This "ex- 
traordinary surge," he said, 
was attributable in part to 
the development of ad- 
vanced aircraft engineering 
in the U.S. The American 
gift for developing and sell- 
ing state-of-the-art technol- 
ogy, he suggested, will re- 
assert itself now that political 
reforms in Eastern Europe 
and the U.S.S.R. allow the 
U.S. to relax its defense of 
the free world and "give its 
full attention to [economic 
competition with] the 
Japanese. 

"I do not believe," he 



added, "that America termi- 
nally damaged its economy 
by its expenditures in de- 
fending the free world. Its 
greatest economic achieve- 
ments lie ahead." 

In terms of foreign rela- 
tions, too, Keegan noted, the 
U.S. came out of World War 
II as a leader "The U.S. em- 
braced the role the war thrust 
upon it," he said. "By the 
1950s, it stood at the center 
of several multilateral al- 
liances. One tyranny had 
been overcome, but another 
had taken its place - the So- 
viet Union." 

For more than forty years, 
said Keegan, the U.S.S.R. 
posed the greatest threat to 
the stability of the free world. 
"In the last twelve months, 
the victory of the second 
world war has finally been 
consummated" with the 
peaceful disintegration of 
Communism as a force in 
Eastern Europe and, poten- 
tially, in the U.S.S.R. itself. 

Recent world events do 
not, Keegan argued, herald 
"the end of history," as an- 
other historian has proposed. 
"Asking for freedom and 
getting it are Ukely to prove 
very different things," he 
observed of the struggles to 
establish democracies in 
many countries. 

While America's exam- 
ple is peerless in inspiring 
such movements toward 
liberty, he added, it also cre- 
ates expectations that may 
not apply in countries with- 
out the U.S.'s physical at- 
tributes and history. "Only 
in America," he said, "could 
the ideals of the farming class 
be realized with the compre- 
hensiveness you have here." 

In World War II, "Ameri- 
ca was confronted by its 
greatest challenge in its 200- 
year history," Keegan con- 
cluded. The result was "a 
unique civilization, brought 
into being by factors and 
circumstances that can nev- 
er be repeated." - A.D. 



16 / MARCH 1990 



SEIU attempts to organize clerical 

and technical staff at Brown; 

administration opposes unionization 



An ongoing attempt 
by the Service Em- 
ployees International Union 
(SEIU) to organize nearly 
1,000 clerical and technical 
workers on campus may 
lead to an election, conduct- 
ed by the National Labor 
Relations Board (NLRB), 
during the coming year. If 
the organizing drive is suc- 
cessful, the clerical and 
tecluiical employees will 
constitute the largest and 
most widely-distributed 
bargaining unit on campus, 
according to Margaret h'es, 
assistant vice president for 
human resources. 

Brown currentlv has 
some 500 unionized employ- 
ees, most of them members 
of SEIU bargaining units. 
Physical plant workers 
unionized in 1943, library 
workers in 1973, and food- 
service workers in 1974. 
Since 1972, police and secu- 
rity employees have had 



It didn't have quite 
the ring of "Singin ' in the 

Rain, " but dancin' in 

the snow made for a great 

noontime show February 6, 

when the Ballroom Dance 

Club kicked up their boots 

on the erstwhile Green. 



their own independent 
union. 

SEIU organizers began 
distributing union literature 
on campus last November. 
On December 18, President 
Gregorian wrote to all Brown 
employees to convey the 
University's position on the 
union. 

"In my considered judg- 
ment," he wrote, "our cleri- 
cal and technical employees 
would be making a serious 
mistake to unionize. . . . 
(U)nionization . . . could al- 
ter the present sense of com- 
munity and closeness. . . . 
Unions, unfortunately, do 
not create more revenue for 
the University to pay higher 
wages. . . . Ultimately, Brown, 
as a community - and not 
as diverse factions - has to 
deal with [issues of salaries 
and benefits], and I belie\'e 
we will make progress more 
readily without union rep- 
resentation of our clerical 



and technical staff. 

"If, however," Gregorian's 
letter concluded, "our . . . staff 
choose freely and democrat- 
ically to have union repre- 
sentation through a process 
ailminating in an NLRB elec- 
tion by secret ballot, my ad- 
ministration will do its best 
to establish a cooperative 
and productive relationship." 

During the months of 
January and February, SEIU 
organizers continued to 
communicate with employ- 
ees, and issued a newsletter, 
the Brown Community Neios, 
explaining their motivation. 
"We often feel there are tzoo 
Brown communities," noted 
an editorial by the organiz- 
ing committee in an edition 
distributed on February 7. 
"One is the public Brown 
with a $400 million-plus en- 
dowment and over $350 mil- 
lion in local property. The 
other Brown is made up of 
hard-working men anci wom- 



en, many of us parents, 
whose starting salaries bare- 
ly exceed the 'Lower Level 
Standard of Living' for a 
family of four" 

Meanwhile, the Office of 
Human Resources was hold- 
ing training sessions for all 
supervisors to "inform you 
about the University's posi- 
tion and the progress and 
significance of the union cam- 
paign so you can respond in 
an informed manner to ques- 
tions from your staff," ac- 
cording to a memo. 

A precise timetable for 
the organizing campaign 
has not been made public. 
Many on campus believe 
that the SEIU's efforts will 
intensify this spring before 
students - often sympathet- 
ic to the workers' side in la- 
bor issues - leave for sum- 
mer vacation. - A.D. 




BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 17 



Sports 

By James Reinbold 



Two teams, two directions 



Men's basketball 
falters at Princeton 

As gray February blanketed 
the Brown campus and the 
promise of spring was only 
a figment of Punxsutawney 
Phil's imagination, two 
Brown teams went on the 
road for a make-or- break 
weekend. 

Coach Bob Gaudet hoped 
his men's hockey team, win- 
ner of only one game last 
year, could put a lock on an 
ECAC playoff spot. Coach 
Mike Cingiser's men's bas- 
ketball team, buried in the 
pre-season polls, stood tall 
in a tie for second place in 
the Ivies, one game behind 
Princeton. 

Cingiser was leading his 
young team on the Penn- 
Princeton trip, often a night- 
mare for the Bears in the 
past. With a 5-3 record, they 
trailed league-leading 
Princeton by only one game. 
A loss would mean, in all 
probability, the end of cham- 
pionship aspirations. 

The script, unfortunately, 
was played out in the usual 
fashion. The Tigers lost no 
time in attacking. Shooting 
67 percent from the field, in- 
cluding nine of fourteen 
from three-point range, they 
took a commanding 40-18 
lead at halftime and coasted 
to a 74-47 win. 

Brown never recovered. 
Freshman sensation Carlos 
Williams, who finished the 
evening with 15 points, the 
only Bruin in double fig- 
ures, brought Brown to 



within 18 with five minutes 
remaining, but that was as 
close as the team would get. 

At the Palestra the fol- 
lowing evening. Brown 
played Penn close through 
the first half. Despite in- 
spired three-point shooting 
by Penn guard Jerry Simon, 
Brown trailed only by three 
at the half, 37-34. But in the 
second half, Penn took con- 
trol on an 18-8 nm and with 
twelve minutes to go had an 
eleven-point advantage. 
Brown shot only 39 percent 
from the field. 

After the weekend, the 
standings shuffled again like 
the arrival and departure 
billboard at Grand Central 
Station. Forty-eight hours 
before. Brown had been in 
second place; now they were 
tied for third, with Dart- 
mouth and Penn, at 5-5. 
Harvard and Yale shared 
second place at 6-4, and 
Princeton remained atop the 
standings at 8-2. 

Men's hockey 

crashes the 

playoffs 

Meanwhile, Gaudet's hock- 
ey team turned up its level 
of play a notch and scorched 
Colgate, the nation's second- 
ranked team, 7-6. It was the 
second upset of a top-five 
team this season for Brown, 
which earlier in the season 
defeated then-third-ranked 
Providence College, 5-4, in 
overtime. The following 
evening. Brown lost to Cor- 



nell, in third place in the 
ECAC, 5-2. 

The win secured for 
Brown an ECAC playoff 
spot. Going into the final 
weekend of regular-season 
action, the Bears stood in 
eighth place in the ECAC 
standings with a 7-10-3 
record. A win against either 
Princeton or Army - both of 
which Brown had beaten 
earlier in the season - would 
guarantee home ice for the 
first playoff game. 

While making the play- 
offs was a pre-season goal 
for the team, the season got 
off to a less than auspicious 
start. After two ties and a 
win, the team lost seven 
straight before rebounding, 
on the road, with three wins. 

"We expected to struggle 
early on," Gaudet said. "Prac- 
tice began on October 22 and 
we hit the ice on November 
11 . Before we knew it, we 
were playing games. We had 
to teach the young players 
everything. It takes a while 
for it all to sink in." 

The fact that the team 
played so many away games 
early in the season prompted 
some fans to wonder whether 
Meehan was undergoing 
renovations. But the road 
schedule strengthened the 
young team's resolve, ac- 
cording to Gaudet. "This 
team won't back down 
against anyone," the coach 
said. 

The 1989-90 team fea- 
tures only three seniors and 
a sprinkling of juniors. Gau- 
det has a wealth of freshman 
talent, and he credits his as- 
sistant coaches, Scott Borek 
and Brian McCloskey, for 
that. "They go after the top 
players in the country," he 
said. "There's no reason 
anymore for anyone - play- 
ers, coaches, or fans - to feel 
that at Brown we have a sec- 
ond-class program. There is 
unlimited, untapped poten- 
tial here." 

Remember when you 



couldn't get a ticket to a 
Brown hockey game? Those 
days are back. 



Fait accompli 

■ Women's ice hockey (8- 

11-2,2-7-1 Ivy) concluded 
the season on a upbeat note. 
Jane Corcoran '91, with four 
goals and three assists, led 
the Pandas to a 7-5 win over 
St. Lawrence. Kirsten Ren- 
deir90 had 18 saves. 

The following evening, 
at Meehan, the Pandas hosted 
Cornell. The Big Red scored 
three times in the first period, 
but Brown held the league- 
leading and league-unde- 
feated team scoreless over 
the next two periods and 
came within a goal of tying 
the game when Whitney 
Robbins '90 and Corcoran 
scored in the third period. 

■ It seems bizarre, but 
wrestling's season seems to 
hinge on one Ivy match: 
Cornell. And despite post- 
ing an impressive overall 
record of 13-7 going into a 
final-season meet against 
Columbia, the Bears have 
come up short again in 
1989-90 in their bid for a 
first-ever Ivy League cham- 
pionship. For the third 
straight year, they lost to 
Cornell, the undefeated and 
once-again Ivy champ. In 
meets following the Cornell 
defeat. Brown soundly de- 
feated Harvard and Yale. 

■ Women's swimming 
beat Columbia on February 
10 at Smith Swim Center for 
their sixth season win against 
three losses and then began 
preparing for the Easterns. 

■ Men's swimming lost all 
ten meets this year. Individ- 
ual winners in the final 
meet of the season against 
Army included Gary Wing 
'90 in the 200 freestyle and 
Bill Schaub '91 in the one- 
meter diving. 

■ Women's basketball 
upped their Ivy record to 6- 



18 / MARCH 1990 



4 with home-court wins 
over Princeton and Penn. 
Against Princeton, Brown 
came back from a fourteen- 
point halttime deficit to 
win, 59-34. Margaret Fuchs 
'91 had 14 points, and 
Elaine Harper '93 had ten. 
Though a win over Penn the 
following evening raised 
their record to 6-4, the Bru- 
ins had little hope of catch- 
ing league-leading Dart- 
mouth, which remains un- 
defeated. 

■ Women's squash finished 
first in Division II and sev- 
enth overall in the annual 
Howe Cup competition. 

■ Gymnastics, enjoying a 
7-4 record, piled up its most 
points ever against Southern 
Utah State and Springfield 
when they scored 175.40 in 
the dual meet. 

Kudos 

■ Carlos Williams '93 was 

named men's basketball Ivy 
League Rookie-of-the-Week 
for three consecutive weeks, 
and four times during the 
season. Williams scored 22 
points and pulled down 14 
rebounds in games against 
Columbia and Cornell. He 
is the league's leading re- 
bounder and also leads the 
Ivies in field-goal percent- 
age -59.8 percent. 

■ Women's basketball's 
Maia Baker '90 is leading 
the Ivy League in rebound- 
ing, averaging 11.3 per game. 

■ Chris Harvey '90, men's 
hockey goalie, was named 
ECAC co-player of the 
week for his performance 
against St. Lawrence and 
Clarkson. He had a total of 
92 saves, permitting only 
five goals. Brown lost to St. 
Lawrence, 3-2, and tied 
Clarkson, 2-2. Harvey holds 
the ECAC record for saves. 

■ Jennifer Boyd '90 set a 
slew of records when wom- 
en's swimming met Penn on 
January 20. In the 50-yard 
freestyle, the 100-yard free- 



style, and the 100-yard but- 
terfly, she broke Brown, Ivy 
League, and Eastern rec- 
ords. Her times in the 50 
and 100 free (22.65 and 49.94 
respecti\'ely) were the fastest 
in the country this year, and 
her time in the 100-yard but- 
terfly (35.53) was the fourth 
fastest in the U.S. this year. 
All times were Penn pool 
records and qualified Boyd 
for the NCAA tournament 
in Austin, Texas, in March. 

Rhode Island 
Athlete of the Year 

Greg Whiteley '89 has been 
named the 1989 Rhode Is- 
land Male Athlete of the 
Year by Words Unlimited, 
the association of Rhode Is- 
land sportswriters and sports- 
casters. The award was pre- 
sented at the annual dinner 
in February. 

Whiteley (B/\M, June 
1989) became the first Brown 
runner to win an NCAA 
championship when he cap- 
tured the 3,000-meter title at 
last year's NCAA Division 
One Indoor Championships 
in Indianapolis. He also won 
the 5,000- and 10,000-meter 
races at the Heps and fin- 
ished third in the 5,000 me- 
ters at the NCAA outdoor 
championships that same 
year. Last June, he ran the 
first sub-four-minutc mile 
by a Brown runner at the 
Jackie Joyner Invitational in 
Los Angeles. 

Whiteley, who recently 
returned from Europe where 
he trained, ran, and studied 
at the University of Copen- 
hagen, was a member of the 
1990 United States Cross 
Country team that compet- 
ed in the World Cross Coun- 
try Championships in Aix- 
Les-Bains, France, on March 
24. The team was made up 
of the best runners in the 
U.S. More than 300 runners 
from about forty nations 
competed on the 12-kiIome- 
ter course. El 



SCOREBOARD 



i 



(January 15 - February 19) 



Men's Basketball (8-14) 

Yale 55, Brown 53 

Brown 62, Yale 60 

Dartmouth 74, Brown 63 

Brown 88, Harvard 77 

Brown 70, Columbia 59 

Brown 62, Cornell 56 

Princeton 74, Brown 47 

Penn 86, Brown 71 

Women's Basketball (13-9) 

Brown 68, Brooklyn College 46 

Brown 62, Yale 57 

Brown 69, Hartford 45 

Yale 49, Brown 47 

Dartmouth 82, Brown 70 

Brown 89, Harvard 74 

Columbia 63, Brown 55 

Brown 82, Cornell 64 

Brown 59, Princeton 56 

Brown 63, Penn 59 

Men's Hockey (8-13-3)) 

Cornell 4, Brown 2 

Colgate 5, Brown 2 

Brown 5, Providence 4 

Brown 3, Yale 1 

RPI 10, Brown 5 

Brown 4, Vermont 2 

St. Lawrence 3, Brown 2 

Brown 2, Clarkson 2 

Brown 7, Colgate 6 

Cornell 5, Brown 2 

Women's Ice Hockey (8-11-2) 

Brown 1, Dartmouth 1 

Northeastern 4, Brown 

Brown 6, Boston College 1 

Dartmouth 7, Brown 3 

Harvard 1, Brown 

Brown 6, Colby 

New Hampshire 8, Brown 1 

Brown 3, Concordia 2 

Brown 5, Yale 1 

Princeton 6, Brown 3 

Brown 7, St. Lawrence 5 

Cornell 3, Brown 2 

Men's Squash (8-10) 

Brown 6, Fordham 3 

Tufts 7, Brown 2 

Trinity 9, Brown 

Brown 6, Army 3 

Dartmouth 9, Brown 

Brown 6, Connecticut College 3 

Vassar 6, Brown 3 

Princeton 9, Brown 

Brown 8, Babson 1 

Women's Squash (4-4) 

Yale 7, Brown 2 

Brown 9, Tufts 

Harvard 8, Brown 1 

Brown 8, Dartmouth 1 

7th (1st in Division 2) at Howe 

Cup, Yale 



Men's Swimming (0-10) 

Navy 72, Brown 39 
Penn 73, Brown 38 
Yale 60, Brown 53 
Cornell 70, Brown 43 
Columbia 67, Brown 46 
Army 65, Brown 48 

Women's Swimming (6-3) 

Penn 93, Brown 47 

Brown 97, Yale 43 

Penn State 176, Brown 111 

Brown 89, Cornell 49 

Brown 97, Columbia 42 

Wrestling (13-7) 

Lehigh 21, Brown 16 

Boston University 18, Brown 16 

Brown 36, Northeastern 2 

Brown 19, Rutgers 15 

Brown 26, Franklin & Marshall 8 

Brown 35, Wagner 7 

Brown 23, Penn 9 

Brown 35, Princeton 7 

Brown 24, Lycoming 15 

Brown 35, American University 6 

Cornell 25, Brown 15 

Brown 25, Harvard 11 

Brown 25, Central Connecticut 1 4 

Brown 38, Yale 9 

Brown 32, New Hampshire 8 

Gymnastics (7-4) 

Rhode Island 174.05, Brown 

169.10 

New Hampshire 178.30, Brown 

172.40 

Brown 171.90, Yale 163.15 

Brown 172.95, Vermont 171.05 

Biovm 168.90, Salem State 158.93 

Brown 168.90, Bridgewater 137.75 

Brown 168.90, RIC 144.55 

Northeastern 181.50, Brown 

173.60 

Brown 173.60, UC-Santa Barbara 

172.70 

Southern Utah State 179.55, 

Brown 175.40 

Brown 175.40, Springfield 169.85 

Men's Indoor Track (1-3) 

Yale 66.5, Brown 45 

Penn 66.5, Brown 45 

Dartmouth 74, Brown 57 

Brown 57, Harvard 31 

Women's Indoor Track (6-0) 

Brown 85, Rhode Island 78 

Brown 85, Yale 25 

Brown 85, Springfield 18 

Brown 85, Columbia 15 

Brown 67, Harvard 51 

Brown 67, Dartmouth 30 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 19 



'We have to do L 
fewer things, 
but better' 



An interview 
by Managing 



with President Gregorian 
Editor Anne Diffily 




a St April, we described the inauguration of 
Brown's sixteenth president, Vartan Gregorian, as 
a joyful wedding between man and institution. 
The new president's ebullience, his elegant orato- 
ry, and his irrepressible warmth made him an in- 
stant favorite with students, staff, and alumni. 
Even the faculty, always a skeptical bunch, seemed 

encouraged 
by his de- 
cidedly 
"one of us" 
academic 
credentials. 
Nearly a year has passed since Gregorian took 
office, and while it would perhaps be melodramat- 
ic to say the honeymoon is over, clearly it is roll- 
up-your-sleeves time for the president and those 
who report to him. As he had promised last spring, 
Gregorian spent the months through December 
immersed in an intensive learning experience, fa- 
miliarizing himself with the University communi- 
ty and with the institutional framework that sup- 
ports it. He met with hundreds of faculty, students, 
and staff, and appeared at alumni events in six 
cities around the country. He authorized internal 
studies of several crucial areas: the curriculum, 
centers and institutes, athletics, and the twenty- 
year-old medical program. 

Gregorian also presided over some senior staff 
changes, beginning with the December appoint- 
ment of Professor of Political Science Thomas An- 
ton as dean of the faculty, filling the vacancy left by 
John Quinn's departure for the University of Ten- 
nessee chancellorship last year. In early January, 
Gregorian advised Athletic Director John Parry '65 
that his contract would not be renewed; Parry has 
been replaced by acting director Steve Gladstone, 
the men's crew coach, while a national search for a 
new director is carried out. Gregorian's third senior 
staff change will be the naming of a new provost 
to succeed Maurice Glicksman, who in February 
announced his intention to return to teaching and 
research in the Division of Engineering. 

In a year when the report by the University's 
Advisory Committee on University Planning 
(ACUP), which is used to determine a budget for 
the next fiscal year, is the most somber in recent 
memory, and when Brown begins to mobilize for a 
major fund-raising campaign in 1991, Gregorian's 
leadership will come under intense scrutiny. The 
president returned in late January from a two-week 
stay in Australia (where he had gone with his fam- 
ily to attend son Raffi's wedding) fired with New 
Year's resolutions to use his time more effectively. 
The open-door policy that was so endearing, but 



20 / MARCH 1990 



also enervating for him, would be severely cur- 
tailed, he announced. No more would he respond 
to students' complaints about such matters as 
blocked toilets in dormitories. He would be easing 
his efforts to get to know every faculty member, in 
order to spend this year putting Brown's house in 
order - a process, he warned, that would require 
some sacrifices of every segment of the campus 
community. 

"The University has increased in size without 
planning," he told the faculty at its February 6 
meeting, in remarks that were longer and grittier 
than usual. "Frankly, we cannot afford it." Expen- 
ditures, the president explained, are rising faster 
than Brown's income. The spiraling costs of health 
insurance for employees, benefits for "an aging 
faculty," postage increases, the expense of dispos- 
ing of hazardous waste produced by Brown's sci- 
ence laboratories - these and other out-of-control 
expenses are threatening to cripple the University 
for the first time since the bleak days of the energy 
crisis in the early 1970s, when Brown had to cut 
its operating budget severely to get out of the red. 

To counter some of the pressures on Brown's 
budget, Gregorian said to the faculty, he was im- 
mediately imposing a moratorium on the estab- 
lishment of new centers and institutes, looking for 
ways to eliminate administrative duplication, and 
limiting expansion so that it would be "planned, 
not accidental - based on an academic plan, not 
the needs and desires of our departments. 

"I am sorry to bring you this bad news," Gre- 
gorian continued. "But it has been a shock to me 
personally - the gap between Brown's aspirations 
and its resources. We have to regroup from all 
sides of the University. I'm not going to try to be 
popular, and to say, 'Aptres moi, le deluge.' " 

That Friday, Gregorian delivered a similar mes- 
sage to the Brown Corporation at its February 
meeting. Later, the Corporation voted a 6.4-percent 
increase in Brown's tuition for next year, slightly 
higher than the 6-percent increase recommended 
by ACUP. Shortly thereafter, the BAM visited Gre- 
gorian in his office to learn more about his plans 
for the University in the near future. Portions of 
that conversation follow. 



YoK io\d the fnciilti/ at its February meeting that 
Brown's fiscal situation has come as a shock to you. 
WJiat in particular surprised you? 

The most important thing that came as a shock to 
me is the invisible portion of our budget. That is to 
say, the costs of health benefits, retirement bene- 



fits, and other uncontrollable costs are skyrocket- 
ing. Benefit costs alone will increase 33.7 percent 
over a two-year period, from last July to June 1991. 
Brown spends nearly $17,000 each day, 365 days a 
year, on health benefits for its employees. 

The second fact that shocked me was that we 
have stretched the limits in everything we do. We 
have no room to maneuver. This is one university 
where a major error can wipe out the entire contin- 
gency. 

We are highly tuition-dependent. It is likely 
that next year Brown will rely on tuition income 
for as much as 55 percent of its arts and sciences 
budget, which is very high among the Ivy League 
institutions. For example, that percentage is more 
than twice the impact of tuition income on the 
Princeton budget and 20 percent more than Dart- 
mouth's. Our endowment has increased to $410 
million, its highest level ever. Annual giving has 
increased. But expenditures constantly threaten to 
run ahead of our income. 

We have increased the size of the administrative 
and support staff, and we are roughly fifteen peo- 
ple above the level set by our faculty staffing plan 
in 1985. We have had to seize opportunity when it 
has knocked at our door, but some of the opportu- 
nities were in "soft" money. Sometimes, in order to 
accept two dollars, we have had to come up with 
one dollar. That one dollar now has become a bur- 
den. 

During the past twenty years, the University 
has had a great record of responding to social 
causes and student needs. Whether it's opening 
the Center for Information Technology for twenty- 
four hours, tutorials, psychiatric care, extra securi- 
ty - we have provided all kinds of services, and all 
of them cost money. The challenge that faces us 
now is how to keep the instructional budget intact. 
We must remember that people come here because 
of the faculty. They don't come here because of the 
food, because of the buildings, nor even because of 
good administrators or famous trustees. They 
come here because there is a teaching faculty. So, 
although everything is important, I am looking for 
ways to keep the instructional budget healthy. 

At this time, we need to pause, take inventory, 
see where we're vulnerable, where we have to 
trim, where we have to consolidate, and where we 
have to expand. We need to see the total picture of 
Brown's strengths and its future direction. As we 
do that, our hallmark should be excellence. We 
cannot do everything that our competitors are do- 
ing, so we have to do fewer things, but better. We 
have to insure excellence in areas that are natural 
outgrowths of our traditions and our faculty. 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 21 



Wliy are academic centers ami institutes coming under 
your scrutiny? 

Brown has some thirty-eight centers and institutes. 
I have nothing against centers and institutes; as a 
matter of fact, I beheve in the interdisciphnary and 
multidisciplinary approach. But 1 do think an ex- 
amination should be made to see which centers are 
enhancing our undergraduate and graduate edu- 
cation, which are providing opportunities for our 
students for research, which centers are essential 
to faculty research and scholarship, which centers 
are eroding our instructional budget, which are 
very costly, and which we must preserve. Some of 
them are very valuable; some of them are not cost- 
ly at all; some of them are one-person centers. 
We're looking into all that. In the meantime, I have 
announced a moratorium on commitments to new 
centers and institutes. 

Professor Charles Beitz, an ACE Fellow, has 
been working on this issue with the provost, the 
dean of the faculty, and me. 



/ understand that several other studies are in progress. 

Since coming to Brown, 1 have initiated reports on 
the curriculum, the medical program, centers and 
institutes, and athletics. The first and last are com- 
pleted, and the others are due this month. Also, I 
have authorized a head count of all auxiliary staff 
to see who is on what kind of funding. 

As 1 promised when I came, I set out to know 
the institution, its strengths and weaknesses. At 
Brown, often we know how well individual academ- 
ic and administrative areas are doing. But there 
seems to be no overall University matrix that indi- 
cates how our resources are being used and where 
our programs should be in ten years. We cannot 
undertake new commitments if they are going to 
erode the excellence of existing ones. I hope to de- 
velop two or three models for the future, and go 
forward. But the fact is, we cannot have deficits; 
we cannot embark upon a new capital campaign 
in order simply to cover our deficits. 



The assessmoits you describe imply that some areas of 
the University may be vulnerable to cutbacks or at 
least streamlining. How will you accomplish the fiscal 
adjustments necessari/ to insure Brozim's stability, and 
also tlie long-term academic planning you have men- 
tioned, ivhile maintaining a sense of collegiality and 
cooperatio}!? 

We have to convey to our faculty that we are sub- 
ject to socioeconomic upheavals. Many faculty 
think universities are immune to economic forces 
acting upon the nation. We are not. Neither is the 
state of Rhode Island, nor for that matter are our 
Ivy League sister institutions. For example, Cor- 
nell is cutting 4 percent of its budget; Dartmouth is 



cutting $2 million; even rich Princeton is claiming 
a deficit. 

1 believe that it's much better to take preventive 
measures, to plug holes, than to allow the holes to 
become major gaps that cost more to repair. I'm 
going to try to repair, not to cut. 

Departments cannot think of departments 
alone. They must think of the University as an en- 
tity. If a ship sinks, it doesn't matter who was trav- 
eling in first class and who was traveling in second 
class. On the eve of the French Revolution the vari- 
ous classes were doing very well indeed - the mid- 
dle class, the aristocracy, and so on. But the state 
was bankrupt. 

We're not bankrupt, but 1 don't want us to 
teeter on the verge of bankruptcy by assuming 
many responsibilities towards individuals, pro- 
grams, or causes that we cannot possibly do justice 
to. Therefore, what we are going to try to do is 
prune to enable new growth. Periodic pruning is 
necessary if trees are to grow; at least that's what a 
former gardener tells me. . . . 

The faculty must know first-hand and believe 
that the current crisis is real, that we have various 
choices, that these choices are thought through - 
they're not mechanistic, they're not across the 
board. They're not intended to save money for the 
sake of saving money; they're intended to save 
Brown's fiscal integrity. So the process of pruning 
has to be open; it has to be credible; it has to be 
logical. And all of us have to shoulder the sacri- 
fices - administrators, faculty, everyone. 

We cannot launch a fund-raising campaign by 
saying. Please, we have grown inadvertently with- 
out a plan, we have unanticipated cost ovemms, 
we have needs, we have deficits, so we're launch- 
ing a campaign to cover these. We must launch a 
campaign on the basis that Brown has managed to 
grow responsibly in quality and is able to build 
rather than merely repair. 

Most people, especially those students who are 
not involved in University affairs, don't know 
about the finances of the University. They think 
because we're a "hot school," with so many appli- 
cations for admission, that money is no problem. 

To give you an idea of just how much we're do- 
ing with how little, let me read some figures. For 
the 1990-91 fiscal year, the Princeton University 
budget for academic departments, programs, in- 
struction, faculty, and teaching assistants is $135 
million. Brown's is $65 million - not even 50 per- 
cent of Princeton's. For academic administration 
and student services, Princeton's budget is $18 mil- 
lion; ours is $7 million. Princeton spends $20 million 
on graduate fellowships; we spend $3.8 million. 
Princeton's library budget is $20 million; ours is 
$9.5 million. For general administration and ex- 
penses, Princeton's budget is $20 million; Brown's 
is $11 million. 

The difference is, Princeton's endowment is 
$2.5 billion and Brown's is only $400 million. But 
when it comes to undergraduate scholarships. 



22 / MARCH 1990 







The president greets fiesbmen and 
tbeir parents during orientation. 



physical or life sciences. We must dispel the view 
that Brown is only about the humanities and the 
social sciences. We have to educate our applicants 
that Brown is about arts and sciences. We should 
recruit those National Merit Scholars, Regents' 
Scholars, and others, who are strong in the sci- 
ences, so we can do justice to our science faculty. I 
don't want our science departments to become 
more and more only for graduate students, with 
some introductory courses. There is no reason 
Brown, with the highest applicant pool in the Ivy 
League, cannot attract potential scientists. 



Whiit is i/ourasscssmeut of Dean Sheila Blumstcin's 
report on the curriculum? (see Under the Elms) 

I'm pleased with the report, but a lot has to be 
done. The main objective, as 1 have mentioned, is 
to achieve a correspondence between student 
needs and interests, and faculty resources. 

I'm interested in the 10 percent of undergradu- 
ates who don't take courses in areas outside of 
their majors. Humanities students in particular 
have been singled out as culprits for being one-di- 
mensional. Advising alone is not going to be the 
answer; we have to seek other mechanisms. Perhaps 
we'll introduce several new courses taught by 
teams of professors, such as "Introduction to the 
Humanities" and "Introduction to Science." The 
content of these intellectual courses could show 
students the cutting edge of various disciplines 
and the unity of knowledge. 



Princeton spends $16.7 million and we spend $16.3 
million - there is only $400,000 separating us. 

Brown is doing a tremendous job. Our prob- 
lems, as I told the trustees, are due to our progress. 
We would not have any problems if we were medi- 
ocre - we wouldn't be doing anything. I don't 
want our success to cripple us. I have come to be- 
lieve that you can't do everything well, so you 
have to be selective. 



As you've noted, the physical and biological sciences at 
Brown are relatively strong in resources and low in 
undergraduate enrollments, while the social sciences 
and humanities are often oversubscribed. Hou' might 
Brown better balance students' curricular preferences 
with its resources? 



Hoio woidd you insure that students took advantage of 
courses outside their primary interest? 

We could make it part of the concentration. Why 
not ask that each major have a general course re- 
quirement to help achieve an overarching synthe- 
sis of knowledge? This is what initially the cur- 
riculum was supposed to do. Or we could require 
that each major have a minor that complements it. 
And a third option would be to make the courses 
so attractive that people will be ashamed to say 
they didn't take them. 



]Nhat do you say to alumni who uvre here when the 
"Nciu Curriculum" was developed and u'ho may fear 
that Brown is diverging from its intentions? 



We have excellent science departments: one of the 
great geology departments in the country, materi- 
als science, applied math, physics, chemistry. One 
of the curriculum's shortcomings is that by allow- 
ing students to take what they wish, it also presents 
us with conflicts in matching faculty resources 
with students. Therefore, we have over-enrollment 
of many social-sciences courses and some in the 
humanities, but not comparable enrollments in the 



By and large, the 1969 curriculum has been a suc- 
cess. But we also should have the courage to say 
that we failed in some areas. The authors of the 
New Curriculum themselves have felt that it's an 
evolving document. A curriculum is not frozen; it 
always must evolve. 

1 came here with a very open mind and a very 
critical mind toward the curriculum. Now that I 
have digested the report, I will be sending my 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 2.3 



comments to Dean Blumstein. And let's see what 
the faculty thinks. Fifty percent of the faculty has 
come to Brown since the adoption of the curricu- 
lum. What portion of the faculty has misgivings, 
and what portion has accepted the Brown curricu- 
lum? 



What's happening with the search for a new athletic di- 
rector? 

The search committee headed by Dean Anton has 
been meeting. We want to have somebody as soon 
as possible. This is a national search. We're looking 
for a tough leader with knowledge of the Ivy 
League and a behef in Ivy League standards. We 
want someone with good managerial talent who 
will be proud of Brown. We want someone who is 
able to define our challenges and focus the re- 
sources of the University, including the president's 
time and the interest and support of alumni, on 
goals we can achieve, issues we can resolve. 



Wlien ivill the campaign begin? 

In the fall of 1991. We have to prepare for the next 
eighteen months. 



Is it discouraging to embark on a major fimd-raising 
effort at a time when regionalhj, and perhaps nationally, 
the economy is faltering? 

We have no choice. It's like being in the middle of 
the ocean; you have no choice but to swim. Wheth- 
er you reach your destination or not is immaterial. 
If you stop, you'll drown. And since I don't want 
to drown, we'll have to swim. 



Wliat are some obvious areas of the University that 
will be targeted in the campaign? 

The library will be a central campaign goal. Using 
technology to tap into other libraries is one way of 
expanding our library resources, but at the same 
time we cannot live completely off of others' re- 
sources. There are some fundamental, bread-and- 
butter things we need in our library. 

Faculty recruitment and hiring expenses will 
most likely be a target, as will student financial aid 
- both undergraduate and graduate. 

There are certain academic areas on the cutting 
edge for which I have no choice but to raise funds, 
and this will mean visiting corporations and foun- 
dations. One area that's obvious is environmental 
studies; another is laser technology. In the biolog- 
ical sciences, research on the brain is extremely im- 
portant. Several of our centers have tremendous 
possibilities: the Center for the Study of Financial 
Markets and Institutions, the Institute for Interna- 



tional Studies, the Program in Judaic Studies, the 
Center for Foreign Policy Development - the whole 
international area. All of our assumptions about 
Europe must now be reevaluated - not just Eastern 
Europe. And the whole Pacific Rim area. Our Cen- 
ter for Public Policy will be important as Eastern 
Europe and the Soviet Union - what we hope are 
emerging democracies - rediscover local govern- 
ment. We must look into the Middle East. Right now 
we do not have faculty positions for the teaching 
of Islam or the Arabic language. I would like to get 
a scholar of Arabic literature in our comparative 
literature department. 



Aside from its financial problems, what has most sur- 
prised you about Brown this past year? 

It's a great community with great institutional loy- 
alty on the part of the alumni. I have met with alum- 
ni in six cities so far and I can tell you that Brown 
alumni are more interested in what's going on at 
their alma mater than any alumni body I have 
known. It's a wonderful thing for a president to 
encounter this degree of involvement and loyalty. 

On campus, there is less carping here than at 
any institution I've worked at. I find also less 
cynicism here, less of the mentality that believes 
"somebody who can't do anything else becomes 
an administrator." There's more of an understand- 
ing of difficulties here. As a matter of fact, one of 
the nicest things that has happened to me is that 
many faculty have told me personally and in writ- 
ing not to get so tired, not to overdo it - rather 
than asking why the president doesn't do enough. 

On the negative side, I have found Brown to be 
over-administered and under-managed, in gener- 
al. On some major issues, the indications of ad hoc 
decision-making have been astonishing, and also 
frustrating. I intend to try to strengthen the Uni- 
versity's processes of general management and 
planning, and to take important decisions in the 
context of greater clarity about our objectives and 
priorities. 

Sometimes people seem to think I've been here 
for years, when it has been only ten months. Some 
of them get impatient with me. When you have a 
great intellectual force, such as we have at Brown, 
with high aspirations but limited resources, there 
is occasionally also great frustration. I hope to deal 
with inevitable moments of frustration by chal- 
lenging everyone to understand that a university's 
achievements, its destiny, lie with many - espe- 
cially its faculty, its loyal graduates, its aspiring 
students, its dedicated staff. I intend to make 
Brown's future and Brown's progress everyone's 
concern, everyone's challenge, everyone's pride, 
and everyone's obligation. ED 



24 / MARCH 1990 




The Door 
I s Always 
Open 



f I hadn't taken time off from 
Brown, you wouldn't be read- 
ing this story. I would never 
ha\'e become interested in 
journahsm, and I would never have had 
the opportunity to write for the Brmm 
Alumni Monthly. A semester away from 
Brown provided me with more than just 
a taste of the real world or relief from 
"sophomore slump"; it gave me a career 
option. 

I took time off after three semesters 
at Brown, during what woulel have been 
the second semester of my sophomore 
year 1 had no direction, no sense of 
what I might do after graduation, and 
no real sense of what concentration 1 
wanted to pursue. Like that of many 
students, my freshman year had includ- 
ed a smattering of different courses 
from various clepartments, but nothing 



Last year, 250 students took time off 

from Brown to travel, work, and volunteer - 

an experience that changed many lives 



By Evan Shubin 
Photographs by John Foraste 



A semester editing copy for a small 
newspaper in Baltimore cured Evan 
Sbubin's '90 "sophomore slump" and 
revealed a possible career in journalism. 



that really sparked my intellectual inter- 
est. 

I took a leave of absence and went 
home to Baltimore. That's when coinci- 
dence took over. Kenneth Karpay '79 
was the managing editor of a small busi- 
ness and legal newspaper in Baltimore 
called the Dnih/ Record. He had just lost 
his copy editor, and he needed a new 
one fast. His wife worked next door to 
my mother, and learned from her that 1 
was in Baltimore and looking for work. 
Karpay called me, I went in for an inter- 
view, and two days later the job was 
mine. This fortunate turn of events gave 
me considerable faith in the term "net- 
working." 

It was at the Dnihj Rixord that 1 first 
seriously considered journalism as a ca- 
reer, and it was there that I realized I 
enjoyed the work and had the potential 
to succeed. Although I had always 
thought of myself as a decent writer, 1 
did not know whether I was good enough 
to write for a professional newspaper. 
The Brown Diiily Hemid had never ap- 
pealed to me. If Mr Karpay hadn't called, 
I probably never would have pursued 
journalism at all. 

My experience is not uncommon. 



For many Brown students, a semester or 
year away offers new experiences, in- 
sights, and possibilities for the future. It 
can provide much-needed direction for 
work to be done at Brown, and it can 
provide clues about what possible ca- 
reers would be feasible and enjoyable. 
Too few Brown students explore the 
practical aspects of a given career field 
before graduating. 

This is not entirely their fault. Sum- 
mer vacations do not provide enough 
time for the student and employer really 
to get a feel for one another. Subse- 
quently, the tasks a student might per- 
form at a summer internship are often 
far more menial than those a student 
might be assigned when holding a real 
job over the course of six months or a 
year. 

I learned this lesson the hard way: 
the very next summer I was one of three 
college students chosen for an editorial 
internship program at Baltimore Maga- 
zine. Unfortunately, because the maga- 
zine wasn't paying us, and because we 
were only there for the summer, our re- 
sponsibilities were paltry compared to 
those we had each enjoyed at other pub- 
lications. Although an excellent starting 
point for someone with no journalistic 
experience, for each of us it was actually 
a step down. 




BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 25 




aking time off is popular at 
Brown. During the academic 
year 1988-89, 250 students 
from a student body of 5,647 
took leaves of absence, according to Kay 
Hall, registrar and dean for curricular 
research. The reason so many Brown 
students pursue this option is partially 
because modern society now looks upon 
it as acceptable, but also because Brown 
makes it so easy to do. Since the Brown 
Curriculum was installed in 1969, 
Brown has maintained an "open-door" 
policy regarding time off. As long as the 
student is not on University probation, 
all he or she needs to do in order to go 
on leave is to fill out a simple, one-page 
form and obtain a dean's signature. 

There are several factors that affect 
why more people are taking time off than 
ever before, according to Sheila Blum- 
stein, dean of the College and professor 
of cognitive and linguistic sciences. "I 
think institutions like Brown are more 
open nowadays to the idea of time away. 
We've learned that it is often to the stu- 
dent's advantage. They come back more 
motivated and more directed, and with 
a better idea of exactly what they want 
to study," she says. Time away is not 
without its drawbacks, according to 
Blumstein. "Students sometimes try to 
rush through the remainder of their ed- 
ucation in order to graduate 'on time'," 
she says. "In addition, whenever some- 
one leaves an environment, they can re- 
turn to find it changed. Friends are often 
at a different point in their education, or 
even gone from the University. So there 
is often an adjustment to be made." 

Blumstein hypothesizes that there is 
a wide range of opinions among the fac- 
ulty regarding time off. "I don't think 
the faculty as a whole is averse to the 
idea," she says. "There could be concerns 
about a returning student being out of 
step with a specific sequence of courses, 
but I haven't heard a single complaint." 
Students who want to work during 
their time off are encouraged to use the 
Resource Center, located in Rhode Is- 
land Hall. There, the College Venture 
Program, a national consortium of eight 
colleges and universities whose head- 
quarters is located at Brown, lists intern- 
ships lasting from three to nine months, 
most of them salaried. 




When students come to the Resource 
Center and express an interest in taking 
time off, staff members urge them to sit 
down and talk about it. "We like to find 
out what ideas the student has, and what 
areas of interest they want to pursue," 
says Coordinator Claudia Yellin '87. 

Next, the student is encouraged to 
peruse the Venture job bank, an enormous 
notebook filled with detailed descriptions 
of more than 200 jobs, ranging from work- 
ing for a public interest group or an ad- 
vertising agency to teaching gorillas sign 
language. The notebook is not organizecl 
by job field or location, according to Yel- 
lin, in order to encourage students to 
consider all of their options. "You'd be 
surprised what jobs students come up 
with just because they went through the 
entire book," she says. 

After compiling a list of the jobs that 
interest them, students are required to 



Daniela Malin '91, who worked on Bill 
Moyers's public television show "World 
of Ideas, " says time off "showed me bow 
I could use the tools I weus developing at 
Brown to create something worthwhile. " 



make an appointment with one of the 
two Venture counselors. "We talk about 
the jobs on the student's list," says Yellin, 
"and discuss whether the student is 
qualified. We also try to decide whether 
the job description truly matches what 
the student would like to be doing. 
"More than 100 Brown students 
filled out the Venture application and 
had an interview last year," Yellin says. 
"Several hundred more stopped by the 
Resource Center to investigate leave- 
taking." 



26 / MARCH lyyo 



Haniela Malin '91 was hungry 
for a taste of reality. "I didn't 
understand what a Brown 
education could be used for," 
she says, "and subsequently, I wasn't get- 
ting that much out of it. 1 felt as if huge 
parts of me were not being developed, 
i hati a lot to learn about living." 

Malin took a job in New York City 
through Venture, working on Bill Moy- 
ers's recent television series, entitled 
"World of Ideas." 

"1 felt 1 was at the forefront of affect- 
ing society," Malin says. "It showed me 
how 1 could use the tools I was develop- 
ing at Brown to create something worth- 
while." It also helped her to deal with 
some of the personal development prob- 
lems she was having. "There are many 
valuable lessons to be learned just by 
living in a real apartment in a real city, 
away from a college campus. It was just 
me and the world, and I survived." 

With hindsight, Malin can't fathom 
how anyone could go straight through 
high school and college without spend- 
ing some time in the real world. "CoUege 
attempts to prepare you to play a key 
role in society, but you haven't even met 
society," she says. "Taking time off gives 
you that first look at what society is all 
about, and how you can potentially make 
a difference. With that insight, you can 
choose a career." 

Doug Steen '90 wasn't worried about 
finding a suitable career after graduation; 
he had two to choose from. A dual con- 
centrator in Russian language and litera- 
ture and in computer science, Steen didn't 
know which field to pursue. So he spent 
last year exploring each of his interests 
further. First semester, he worked for 
IBM in his hometown of Raleigh, North 
Carolina. Second semester, he went to 
the Soviet Union. 

"I was looking to narrow my focus 
at Brown and to make some decisions 
about my future," Steen says. His plan 
worked - he found he liked computers 
far more than he liked Russian. "The 
time at IBM was excellent. I had a hand 
in what was going on; I had responsibil- 
ity," he says. "It was a long, hard look 
into the real world." 

His second semester away made 
things even clearer. "After about three 
weeks in Russia, I realized that this was 



not what I wanted to do with my life," 
Steen says. "I was much happier in Amer- 
ica, programming computers." He is ex- 
cited to be back at Brown. "I've matured," 
he says. "I'm actually working hard. I 
understand what a privilege it is to be 
here, what a great opportunity I have. 
Learning in itself is a privilege." 

He also feels strongly about taking 
time off. "I would recommend it to ev- 
erybody. Even to people who don't think 
they need it or who don't think about it 
at all," he says. "It's extremely beneficial 
to work before you get out of college, 
just to see what it's like." 

Bruce Eimon '91 had the opportunity 
to extend a summer job into a position 
where he held real responsibility. He also 
wanted to "step away from Brown for a 
while," so he gladly accepted the offer. 
He spent the entire past academic year, 
as well as the summers before and after, 
working as a U.S. representative for a 
Japanese software magazine. Eimon grew 
up in Japan, where his parents are mis- 
sionaries, and he wanted to explore the 
job possibilities for someone fluent in 
both Japanese and English. 

"I didn't want to stay in a cushy, 
secluded environment for four straight 
years," Eimon says. "I wanted to see what 
was out there." Eimon spent the year con- 
vincing American computer software 
producers that the Japanese market was 



worth their attention. He was paid a stan- 
dard entry-level salary, and thus sup- 
ported himself completely while living 
in Boston. He worked forty hours each 
week, which was quite a shock for him. 

"Before I left Brown, I had a fanta- 
sized notion of the working world. I en- 
visioned a world full of opportunities 
and challenges," Eimon says. "What 1 
learned was that working nine-to-five is 
a definite grind. The advantage, howev- 
er, is a clear separation between work 
and leisure time. I came to cherish my 
weekends." 

Eimon came back to Brown with a 
whole new perspective: "I learned that 
undergraduate majors don't really mat- 
ter out in the working world. Now I'm 
taking the classes that are only offered at 
Brown. I can learn career-specific skills 
later." Having enjoyed his time away, he 
highly recommends a leave of absence 
for anyone who wants a dose of the real 
world. "It's extremely healthy to get out," 
he says. "Brown is so isolated, it's good 



With a double concentration in computer 
science and Russian language and 
literature, Doug Steen '90 wasn 't sure 
wbicb to pursue. So be spent part of last 
year working for IBM ia Raleigb, North 
Ceu:olina, and tben took off for Leningrad. 




BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 27 



to have a slap of reality now and then." 

Laura Caron '92 didn't need to find a 
career during her time off; she's known 
for a long time that she wants to teach 
after college. What she needed was mo- 
tivation and a better self-image. "I was 
very unfocused at Brown," she explains. 
"By mv third semester, I wasn't accom- 
plishing anything. I knew I could do 
better." 

She had plenty of brochures from the 
Resource Center about Venture jobs, but 
as late as three weeks into Christmas 
break, she hadn't made any concrete plans 
to take time off. She simply couldn't de- 
cide if she should go or not. She also had 
a catalogue from Outu'ard Bound, a pro- 
gram that offers wilderness courses 
ranging from an intensive nine-day pro- 
gram to several twenty-one-to- twenty- 
four-day courses. 

She noticed an unusual listing in the 
catalogue: a "cross-cultural semester 
odyssey" that lasted eighty-eight days, 
from March 1 through May 28. Caron 
called Outward Bound and found that 
there was still space in the program. She 
went back to Brown in January, packed 
her belongings, and took the semester 
off. 

The course included one month of a 
standard mountain course, in which the 
twelve students and two instructors 
spent their time hiking, rock climbing, 
and white-water canoeing. During the 
second month, they lived at an Outward 
Bound base camp in North Carolina and 
helped to teach high school students the 
skills they had learned the month before. 
They also spent time with craftspeople 
from the region, learning about the par- 
ticular trade that each one practiced. This 
was in preparation for the true cross- 
cultural experience: the third month of 
the program was spent in Costa Rica. 

"We immersed ourselves in the cul- 
ture there," Caron says. "We set out to 
see places we'd never seen, and to learn 
from the natives in the same way that 
we had learned from the craftsmen in 
North Carolina." The experience was a 
turning point in her life. 

"One of the concepts that Outward 
Bound stresses is empowerment: you 
have complete control over your options," 
she says. "You are responsible for your 
basic needs and for your survival. It cre- 
ated a very honest environment. We 
could really communicate with each oth- 
er. That was a big thing for me. It has al- 
lowed me to be much more honest with 
other people, and with myself." 



More than a year in 
Boston's high-tech world 
convinced Bruce Eimon 
'91 (right) "that 
undergraduate majors 
don 't matter in the 
working world. Now I'm 
taking the classes that are 
offered only at Brown. " 
Laura Caron '92 says a 
three-month Outward 
Bound program gave her 
confidence and the ability 
to make decisions and 
stick to them. "lam a new 
person, " she says. 





28 / MARCH 1990 



r=^ 



Greg Gore '90 tried several 
lifestyles during his time 
off: working as a junk bond 
analyst, traveling in Spain, 
and then landing a job at a 
ski resort in Utah. 




m 



ack at Brown, Caron finds 
that she is more enthusiastic 
as well as more efficient. 
"Now, I can get things done. 
1 can direct my attention much better 
than before," she says. "I am a new per- 
son, with new-found confidence. I can 
make important decisions and stick with 
them. This applies to courses, relation- 
ships, everything. In all facets of my life, 
I am doing what 1 need to do in order to 
learn and to succeed." 

Caron feels that her time away from 
Brown is responsible for her new per- 
spective on life. "By spending time in 
the real world, you see what's out there 
for you," she says. "It also gives you the 
ability to imagine all the opportunities 
that you don't see." She believes that ab- 
solutely everyone should take time off. 
"Nobody should go to college unless 
they're ready to make the most of it, and 
you can't know if vou're really ready un- 
less you go and do something first." 
And for those who actually made the 
"mistake" of going straight to college af- 
ter high school? "They should definitely 
take time off before junior year," she in- 
sists. "It's an exciting, valuable option." 
Greg Gore '90 is nonplussed by the 
fact that he doesn't know what he wants 
to do after he graduates this May. "Taking 
time off certainly helped me decide what 
1 iHdii't want to do," he says. "1 know what 
kind of life I don't want to lead." Gore 
spent last year traveling and working, 
spending three months in Madrid and 
three months at a ski resort in Utah. 



Gore extended his summer job as a 
junk-bond analyst in his hometown of 
Santa Ana, California, until mid-October 
in order to save enough money to go to 
Spain. He didn't want the pressure of 
formal studies to detract from his appre- 
ciation of a new and different culture. 
He also wanted "more time to read, and 
to reflect on my values and priorities in 
life." After sundown, he stepped out to 
explore Madrid's "outrageous nightlife." 

"During the three months 1 spent in 
Spain, I learned more about the history 
of the country than in my entire life," 
Gore says. "It was a time to explore new 
and different people, places, and ideas. 
I carried Don Quixote around with me 
everywhere. It is absolutely integral to 
Spanish culture, and it's a good way to 
meet people." 

Something wasn't entirely right, how- 
ever. "I was always a bit uncomfortable 
no matter where we were," Gore said. "1 
wanted to spend more time with the 
real Spaniards, the proletariat. I couldn't 
identify with the upper class, and I was 
having trouble relating to Americans, as 
well." His friends nicknamed him "the 
Steppenwolf." 

After Spain, Gore spent the next five 
weeks in Santa Ana deciding what to do 
next. On February 20, he set out for Utah. 
He had very little money left. He knew 
he had to find a place to live, and a job. 
Within three days, he had found both in 
Park City. He worked about half of each 
week at the restaurant at the base lodge, 
and spent the rest of his time skiing. 




He was impressed by the locals who 
worked at the restaurant. They were un- 
educated and had low incomes, but he 
found their struggle to make ends meet 
a noble one. It had a tremendous effect 
on him. "If 1 hadn't taken the year off, I 
wouldn't have been exposed to the un- 
derprivileged," he said. "These were 
good people in baci circumstances. 1 can 
admire the way they live their lives. 
That was the most meaningful part of 
my time off. To me, the glamour of the 
material faqade has faded." 



o return to studies at Brown 
within five years of leaving, 
a student must simply write 
a letter stating the intent to 
return to Brown the following semester 
This letter must be received by the regis- 
trar by June 1 for a student returning in 
the fall, and December 1 for a student 
returning in the spring. As long as this 
deadhne is met, the student is automati- 
cally readmitted. 

Each semester, the Resource Center 
holds a "readmit party" for returning 
stucients to help them readjust to the Uni- 
versity. All of the stucients interviewed 
stressed Brown's support and coopera- 
tion both when they were leaving and 
when they returned. "The University 
was helpful on the way out, and helpful 
on the way in," says Greg Gore. "They 
encouraged me to do it, and they made 
it very easy." 

"One of the reasons Brown is so 
flexible is that we've learned students 
really do come back and graciuate," says 
Kay Hall. Of the class of 1987, the most 
recent for which data are available, 79.9 
percent graduated after four years, 91.2 
percent after five years, and 93.5 percent 
after six years, according to Hall. 

"The University really believes in as- 
sisting students who want to take time 
off," Hall says. She agrees that "students 
often benefit enormously from their time 
away," and that they "become much bet- 
ter students afterwards, especially if they 
didn't know what they wanted to pur- 
sue originally." 

Policies similar to Brown's "open 
door" now exist at other colleges and uni- 
versities, but not everywhere. "1 think," 
Hall says, "that Brown's flexibility and 
its support for students who take time 
off is one of the things that makes Brown 
special." Q 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 29 



Brown's International Health Institute: 







By Bruce Fellman 




Jishan Island, a small hill of red lime- 
stone in the center of the largest fresh- 
water lake in China, is a sauna in the 
summertime. About 1 ,000 people live 
there, and despite the heat that roasts 
Jianxi Province, there's no slacking 
off at the island's rock quarry. With 
hand tools and methods unchanged 
for centuries, the men pound steel on stone to wrest 
the red rock from the quarry walls. The cutters carve 
these blocks into yard-long slabs, and the island 
women carry them on their backs down to the shore 
for shipment to building projects throughout China. 

There are usually kids around, watching their 
elders toil and waiting for the chance to join the 
workforce. But many of these children will not live 
to adulthood. More than two-thirds of Jishan's 
yovmgsters have schistosomiasis, a liver-destroying 
disease caused by a parasitic worm transmitted to 
humans by snails living in Po Yang Lake. "Schisto" 
is common throughout the tropical and semitropi- 
cal areas of the developing world, where at least 
300 million people carry the parasite. The worms 
are particularly damaging to the rapidly growing 
boclies of teenagers. 



"Sixteen-year-olds die the same deaths as mid- 
dle-aged alcoholics: they bleed to death from what 
looks like alcohol-induced liver disease," says Dr. 
G. Richard Olds, associate professor of medicine 
and director of Brown's International Health Insti- 
tute (IHI). But schisto, notes the hard-working ex- 
pert on tropical ailments, doesn't have to be a killer. 
There are drugs available to rid the body of worms, 
and while chemotherapy is not a permanent solu- 
tion - reinfection is a fact of life - it can prevent 
premature death. 

For the past nine years, Olds has headed an 
ambitious and successful research project in the 
Philippines aimed at controlling the ravages of 
schistosomiasis. "It's just fantastic," he notes. 
"After we've worked in a village for a couple of 
years, there won't be another child dying of the 
disease. We can keep villages free of illness caused 
by schisto." 

Brown has long been involved in looking for 
the causes and cures of tropical maladies. Olds 
joined the faculty in 1986 to coordinate research ef- 
forts in this area, and since then, he has brought in 
new researchers to begin tackling other notorious 
scourges of the Third World, such as diarrheal dis- 



30 / MARCH 1990 




STEPHEN MCCARVE' 





Children, such as those of the smedl 

rice-farming village of Macanip, on the Philippine 

island Leyte (eibove), are the primciry victims of 

schistosomiasis, which attacks the liver, often 

killing them. Suspecting that the disease might 

be stunting children's growth as well, 

biological anthropologist Steve McGarvey (this 

page) cuid Brown medical student Michael Tso 

(facing page) studied the growth rates of children 

in affUcted regions of the Philippines and China. 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 31 



Atop desks in a schoolioom 

in Jishan Island, China, Associate 

Professor of Medicine Richard Olds 

(center), parasitologist Wu Guanling 

(right) of Nanjing Medical College, 

and a Chinese ultrasonographer 

perform an abdominal ultrasound 

on a villager. 




eases and leprosy. Last summer, despite the politi- 
cal turmoil that made travel in China risky busi- 
ness. Olds and a delegation of IHI researchers set 
up shop in the searing heat of jishan Island to 
bring their unique blend of biotechnology, prima- 
ry-care medicine, and education to the battle 
against schistosomiasis. 

"Real-world problems don't come in neat pack- 
ages labeled iDiology,' 'political science,' 'economics,' 
and the like," explains Howard Swearer, former 
president of Brown and currently director of its In- 
stitute for Internationa! Studies. "To solve them, you 
need the participation of people from a variety of 
disciplines." The institute, formally inaugurated in 
1986, serves as the catalyst for the University's bur- 
geoning efforts to reach out to the world, an effort 
that by its very nature is interdisciplinary. 

The IHI, which began operations in 1988, has 
taken this approach to heart. Among the staff are 
physicians, molecular biologists, parasitologists, 
public health experts, and an anthropologist. "We're 
dealing with very complicated issues, so to be effec- 
tive in international health requires a tremendous 
background and diversity in the social sciences, 
anthropology, foreign languages, history, and cul- 
ture, along with medical skills," says Olds, who 
has expertise in all of these areas. 

A hot hand uith a basketball doesn't hurt either, 
notes the thirty-nine-year-old physician-scientist, 
who stands six foot five and, though a tad over his 
playing weight, claims to be "not quite over the 
hill" as an athlete. In 1981, when Olds first went to 
Macanip, a small, rice-farming village on the Philip- 
pine island of Leyte, basketball played an important 
role in cementing a bond between Olds and the resi- 
dents. He's returned annually, and every year, the 
contests have been much anticipated and very 
spirited, albeit one-sided. 

"We always trounce them," says the so-called 
"Wilt Chamberlin of Macanip," while admitting 
that his team might enjoy a slight advantage over 



the local talent. "We play in sneakers, while they're 
in sandals, but they know the court and where the 
holes are. Of course, the average person in the vil- 
lage is only about five feet tall. . . ." 



■iMt ^r ,., j^jg office at The Miriam Hospital, 
I as he attempts to ignore a constantly 

I ringing telephone. Olds explains that, 

I basketball aside, he came by his broad 

I repertoire of talents almost by osmosis. 

.^L. The son of a United Nations am- 

bassador, Olds traveled extensively. 
For summer jobs, he did refugee work 
in Geneva, Switzerland. Although he had notions 
of a career in the diplomatic corps, he wanted to 
keep his options open after college. "1 applied to 
seven medical schools, five law schools, and three 
graduate programs in three different disciplines," 
he admits with a laugh. "And 1 went to med school 
for no better reason than I figured 1 could moonlight 
as a doctor and do whatever else I wanted to do." 
"By accident, not design," Olds enrolled at Case 
Western Reserve's medical school in Cleveland. The 
university's strong international orientation jibed 
with his interests. "I made a pest of myself, and I 
created my own program," he notes, explaining that 
his persistence enabled him to spend four years 
working one-on-one with A.A.F. Mahmoud, one of 
the world's foremost researchers in schistosomiasis 
and co-editor of Tropical and Geographic Medicine, 
the bible of the international health field. 

"The point is, I had to come into this with my 
own background," he says. "1 already had the nec- 
essary tools, and this is essential, because once you 
get to medical school, it's so all-consuming that 
there's no time to get any other training you might 
need." 

Olds touts Brown's innovative eight-year Pro- 
gram in Liberal Medical Education as "ideal" for 



32 / MARCH 1990 



turning out specialists in tropical medicine. "Here 
we have the opportunity to develop and direct the 
interests of students right from the beginning, so 
that when they start in the medical curriculum, 
they're already prepared," he notes. 

Often, an undergraduate's first exposure to the 
field is "The Burden of Disease in Developing Coun- 
tries." The popular and highly-rated University 
course was developed and taught by former Dean 
of Medicine Stanley Aronson; Olds took it over in 
1987. The course serves, explains Olds, "to get stu- 
dents, sophomores in particular, hooked. Then we 
can influence their junior and senior years." 

But while Olds can be an exceedingly persuasive 
recruiter, he is careful to avoid fostering romantic 
illusions. "What 1 do takes an enormous amount of 
energy, time, and commitment: writing grants, giv- 
ing talks, teaching classes, raising money - always 
raising money," he notes. In other words, it takes 
an entrepreneur, a monicker that, according to 
Howard Swearer, fits Dick Olds perfectly. "He's a 
terrific example of a very good academic entrepre- 
neur in the best sense of the word," Swearer says. 

He has to be. The IHl's budget - roughly 
$750,000 annually - doesn't come from Brown. In- 
stead, it operates on grants from such organizations 
as the National Institutes of Health, the Rockefeller 
Foundation, and the World Health Organization, 
to name a few. The International Traveler's Clinic 
that the IHl maintains is also a significant source 
of revenue. "People like to support what we're do- 
ing," notes Olds. "We've had an impact." 

One of the main reasons its efforts have worked, 
he believes, is because of the IHI's integrated ap- 
proach to tackhng disease. Geographic medicine, 
Olds's specialty, is a "top-down" strategy that em- 
ploys biotechnology to eradicate the diseases of the 
Third World. The second element, primary health 
care and services, is a "bottom-up," grassroots ap- 
proach that uses the knowledge gained from bio- 
technology to provide better treatment. The last 
component involves a medical exchange in which 
foreign doctors, researchers, and students come to 
Brown - and Brown goes to them. 

By bringing all three strategies to bear in the 
Philippines, the IHI has helped the government 
gain the upper hand - at least in places - against 
schistosomiasis. 



ast summer, even as tanks were rum- 
bling through Tiananmen Square, in- 
stitute researchers and their Chinese 
counterparts were setting up a pilot 
project aimed at controlling schistoso- 
miasis on Jishan Island. This involved 
taking medical histories, doing ultra- 
sound examinations, and analyzing 
stool samples. "Honestly, we could have 
II the data ourselves, but the most impor- 
of last year's work was that we intro- 




blood and 
collected a 
tant result 



duced Chinese government officials to schisto," 
notes Olds, explaining that institutional infighting 
had long kept people charged with doing some- 
thing about the disease out of areas where it was 
prevalent. 

Olds had struck up a friendship with Chinese 
parasitologist Wu Guanling when the two worked 
together in Cleveland, and that relationship now 
has turned into a professional partnership between 
the IHI and Nanjing Medical College, where Dn Wu 
heads the parasitology department. The prestige of 
the Chinese scientist ensured that, when the insti- 
tute researchers arrived on Jishan, they would have 
plenty of company. 

"This was the first time many of the honchos 
had ever really seen the disease," Olds explains. 
"The fact that we were out there getting our hands 
dirty forced the decision-makers to come out into 
the field and see what the problems were." 

Another result of the summer's effort was that 
IHI biological anthropologist Stephen T. McGarvey 
has apparently confirmed that the disease causes 
more than liver damage. When he was on Jishan, 
McGarvey, his daughter, and Brown medical stu- 
dent Michael Tso rounded up everyone in the 
community between the ages of four and twenty - 
schisto rarely affects infants - and recorded each 
youngster's height, weight, upper arm circumfer- 
ence, and skinfold thickness. 

"Child growth is the cheapest and easiest way 
to measure the health of a human population," says 
McGarvey. "If children are growing poorly, that's a 
bad sign. It may indicate malnourishment, a disease, 
that socioeconomic factors aren't working, or an 
interaction of these." 

From what McGarvey knew of schisto, he sus- 
pected that it might be capable of stunting the body. 
The preliminary analysis of the China research 
confirmed this notion. So did a companion study 
the anthropologist conducted in the Philippines 
(which may in part explain why Olds's basketball 
opponents are so short). 

"Children with the disease tend to have de- 
layed growth, especially in adolescence, the period 
of very rapid bone, height, weight, and fat-tissue 
growth," McGarvey says. If the worms are not erad- 
icated, he adds, the kids will never catch up to their 
disease-free peers. 

"Can we live with children being shorter?" 
McGarvey wonders aloud. "We have to examine 
the effect retarded child growth mav have on work 
capability, economic productivity, and cognitive 
and school-performance issues that have impor- 
tance for people's lives." 

The anthropologist is attempting to determine 
the role schisto plays in development as part of his 
larger interest in understanding the present-day 
environmental influences and long-term evolu- 
tionary influences on the biological variability that 
characterizes the human population. The disease is 
perfect for his purposes. 

It has been with us for a long enough time that 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 33 



the human-worm relationship is, more often than 
not, almost cozy- True, the infection is hardest on 
children, but it is not uniformly fatal. Incleeci, evo- 
lution has seen to it that many youngsters strike a 
kind of lopsided bargain with the parasites. The 
worms, which live in the blood vessels around the 
intestines, rob their hosts of nutrients, but they 
also provide a measure of protection from poten- 
tially deadly invasions by other organisms. 

Unfortunately, reinfection is a daily possibility 
in the areas shared by humans and this parasite, 
which in China and the Philippines goes by the 
name Schistosoma japonicum (there are other species 
in different parts of the world). Every time a child 
wades into fresh water, or a farmer works the rice 
paddies, the invaders are waiting. 

The worms start life as eggs excreted from the 
host's body. If these end up on dry land, they quick- 
ly die, but because sanitation is often poor in the 
developing world, many among the female's daily 
output of 300 to 3,000 eggs find their way into the 
water The larvae quickly hatch and swim in search 
of snails, which are common in the lakes and marshes. 

If these miracidia don't connect, it's the end of 
the road for the parasite. In fact, in parts of China, 
a heroic effort actually eliminated the snails and 
the disease. But eradication is not possible in most 
schisto areas, where enough of the larvae find an 
"intermediate host" to keep the cycle going. 

Inside the snail, the parasite multiplies many 
times and emerges as a cercariac, a free-swimming 
creature that like a heat-seeking missile hones in 
on humans and other mammals - rats are common 
alternate targets - in the water When the cercariae 
finds a host, it bores painlessly through the skin in 
as little as five minutes. 

Once inside, the invader travels via the blood 
stream to the lungs. There, it hopes to meet and mate 
with a member of the opposite sex. If it's success- 
ful, in eiernum copnlum - fused for life - the three- 
quarter-inch-long worm couple takes up residence 
in the neighborhood of the intestines, where the 
pair may prosper and produce eggs for an average 
of seven years - and as long as thirty years. 

"It's the perfect love story," quips IHI researcher 
Peter Weist, recipient of a prestigious National In- 
stitutes of Health Physician-Scientist Award. 

But sometimes things don't go as planned. 



Weist, who ran the ultrasound screen- 
ing last summer on Jishan Island, ex- 
plains that as long as the schistosomia- 
sis eggs continue to pass out of the 
host's body, the infected person will re- 
main reasonably healthy, although 
somewhat malnourished. The poten- 
tially fatal damage from the disease 
occurs when the eggs are shunted to the plumbing 
system of the liver and spleen. The resulting 
blockage disrupts blood flow, enlarges these organs. 



and eventually leads to the destruction of tissue. 
As the "worm burden" increases, notes Weist, 
so does the likelihood of problems. But in many 
cases, the worms have a remarkable ability: they 
can keep their populations in check. 

"If you infect a mouse with 100 worms, only 30 
to 40 percent survive," he explains. While the im- 
mune system kills most of them, some cleverly 
evade detection. "But if you reinfect the animal a 
second time, very few of the new parasites make 
it." 

The same situation holds true in humans. It's 
as if the parasite knows that too large an infection 
in the host means its game is up, so the worms make 
the host's immune system better: good enough to 
bar the door without disturbing the residents. Un- 
derstanding how they do it may enable scientists 
to turn the worm's evolutionary talents against 
itself. 

Weist is looking for an "Achilles' heel" in the 
initial stage of the invasion process. He explains 
that for the worm to survive in the body, it has to 
undergo a radical shift in lifestyle. "The cercariae 
is adapted to swimming in fresh water that's at a 
temperature of around 75 degrees Fahrenheit," 
Weist says. "But when it penetrates the skin and 
transforms into what's called a schistosomule, it 
has to adapt to a salty solution of blood at 98 
degrees Fahrenheit. There are a lot of complex 
changes that go on, and if you can block the trans- 
formation, you can block the disease." 

Then there's the intriguing matter of how the 
worm manipulates the immune system. Solving 
that puzzle may enable researchers to develop a 
vaccine, says Paul Knopf, professor of medical sci- 
ence and an IHI associate. 

For the past ten years, the immunologist has 
been studying a group of proteins that might be 
conferring protection. Knopf explains that when 
the body encounters foreign molecules called anti- 
gens, it responds by making antibodies that bind 
to the invaders like flags. The immune system's 
"search and destroy corps" - the white blood cells 
- can then zero in on the marked targets and elimi- 
nate them. 

A vaccine is simply a mixture of specific antigens 
that stimulate the production of equally specific 
antibodies against them. And because the immune 
system never forgets an unfriendly molecular face, 
when the real infection comes along, the defenses 
are already primed and ready. 

The trick, says Knopf, is to find the right anti- 
gens. His detective story involves the highest-tech 
tools of modern biology, infinite patience, and two 
strains of laboratory rat. One can protect itself 
against schisto reinvasion. The other cannot, Knopf 
and post-doctoral research fellow Mohamed El- 
Sherbeini have probed the "antigen universe of the 
worm," along with the antibody responses of the 
rat immune system, to determine the molecular 
basis of the difference in defense capabilities. After 
looking at more than a million different molecules. 



34 / MARCH 1990 




Spread thxough human excrement, 

schistosomiasis eggs hatch in fresh water, such 

as this lake in China (at right), where they are 

temporarily hosted by certain snail species. Within a 

few weeks, the forked-tail cercaiiae leave their snail 

hosts and penetrate the skin of humans bathing or 

washing in the waters. Once agedn in a human host, 

the parasites work their way from the lungs and liver 

to the intestinal tract and bladder, where they 

reproduce once more. 



Knopf is pinning his hopes on a small constellation 
of proteins that are clearly present in the well-de- 
fended rat, but absent in its defenseless cousin. 

"The main clue that I'm on the right track is that 
when I vaccinate rats with extracts containing the 
proteins, I get protection against the worms," Knopf 
says. He adds that there's still more work to be 
done before he can declare that he's isolated a can- 
didate antigen. 



Even if Knopf is successful, it's a long 
journey from creating a rat vaccine to 
crafting one that works in our species. 
Indeed, recent IHl research shows 
that a single vaccine won't be enough 
to protect the world. 

"Everyone has always assumed 
that schisto in the Philippines is the 
same disease you see in China," says Thomas F. 
Kresina, the IHI's director of research. "But it turns 
out that infected Filipinos have a completely dif- 
ferent antibody repertoire than people infected in 



China. This means you can't make a vaccine based 
on the immune response of one patient and use it 
for both countries. Each will have to be developed 
independently." 

Kresina is developing a method that may enable 
scientists to locate the molecular basis of these im- 
munological differences and to tailor vaccines for 
specific population groups. But that is the future. 

For now. Olds and company help the host gov- 
ernments figure out the most cost-effective way to 
dispense the drugs that will temporarily rid the 
villagers of the worms. "Obviously the long-term 
solution is to keep humans from becoming infect- 
ed," says Olds, "and because we're never going to 
break the transmission cycle, that means a vaccine. 
But I could spend my whole life working on one 
and never get there. So even though we're not cur- 
ing anyone, and we're not eradicating the disease, 
we've shown that we can keep people free of its 
effects. That's a very rewarding feeling." ED 

Bnice Fellmnn '72 is a science writer in North Ston- 
iiigton, Connecticut. 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 35 



Miss Daisys 
Unexpected Drive to Success 



rmm 



BY JOHNETTE RODRIGUEZ 



W ts beginnings were inauspicious: the first play 
r from a fifty-two-year-old librettist and theater 
I instructor; three characters who age twenty-five 
m years in eighty minutes; modest though amiable 
reviews when it opened off-Broadway in April of 
1987. But Driving Miss Dnisi/ went on to win a 
Pulitzer Prize for its playwright, Alfred Uhry '58; 
to tour nationally for more than sixty weeks; and 
to be performed in London, Moscow, India, and 
South Africa. The recently-released film version 
starring Morgan Freeman and Jessica Tandy, with 
the screenplay by Uhry, is garnering further acco- 
lades - Golden Globe and Oscar nominations 
among them. 

All of this for a play that Uhry thought would 
die "after five weeks off-Broadway." What is there 
about this simple piece that has captivated critics 
and awed audiences from Maine to Miami? Uhry 
wonders about it himself. Nonetheless, as he told a 
rapt audience at Brown's Leeds Theatre last Decem- 
ber, "I knew I was making a connection to a truth 1 
really felt - and if you understand something well, 
it shimmers on the stage." 

What Uhry grasped as universal was a sense of 
human dignity and the need for companionship; 
what he portrayed in the particular was a piece of 
life in the South as he remembered it. Miss Daisy, a 
genteel Atlanta lady who is seventy-two when we 
first meet her, is patterned after Uhry's grandmother 
and a passel of his great-aunts. Her driver, Hoke 
Coleburn, is an affectionate portrait of a man who 
was his grandmother's chauffeur for many years. 
Will Coleman. 

In the play. Miss Daisy and Hoke begin their 
long association after she backs her car off a hill and 
onto the roof of a neighbor's garage (as did Uhry's 
grandmother), and her son engages a chauffeur for 
her. Throughout the years of driving together, the 
two learn to reach across the walls of pride and 
racial differences that separate them to form a last- 
ing bond of friendship. 

"I wanted to write about people who got on 
with it, people who didn't just feel sorry for them- 
selves," Uhry reflected, in a conversation the day 



after his lecture at Brown. "The last two lines of my 
play are: 'How are you?' 'Well, I'm doing the best 1 
can.' That's what I wanted to write about. I admire 
those qualities. I wish I had more of them." 

What Uhry also wanted to convey in his play 
was something specific about growing up in a "very 
stylish, very bourgeois" Jewish household in the 
South. "I was interested in writing about people 
who were both the purveyors and the recipients of 
prejudice, as we were," Uhry said. "I never realized 
how bred-in-the-bone prejudiced we were until I 
was away from it. We simply thought of black peo- 
ple as 'other,' when there /.•; no 'other' People are 
people." 

Yet finding a way to tap those rich sources with- 
in himself took years of involvement in the theater. 
Uhry remembers childhood trips with his mother 
to see Rodgers & Hammerstein musicals, and his 
own backyard stagings of Tom Snun/er, Hnns Briuker, 
and A Cliiistiiins Cnrol. But it wasn't until he came 
to Brown and ended up in English 23-24 (Play Pro- 
duction) that he was really "bitten very hard by the 
bug," as he described it. 

"At first I thought, 'This is fun, so it can't be 
anything serious,'" he recalled with a smile. "The 
class met from 1 to 5 p.m., four days a week, and 1 
would have been happy to stay until midnight. It 
didn't seem like a course at school - it was the most 
wonderful, delicious thing. 

"What we were given in those days was the 
love that Miss [Janice] Van de Water and Jim Barn- 
hill [both professors of English at that time] them- 
selves felt for the theater," he continued, leaning 
his head back and gazing off for a moment in fond 
reverie. "They never encouraged any of us to pur- 
sue it as a career, really - they just allowed us to 
know what it was like and to love it." 

Uhry is still amazed that, out of the core group 
of twenty to twenty-five students involved in the- 
ater at Brown during his years here, at least a dozen 
have made it their life, including award-winning 
television director Will MacKenzie '60 and composer 
Robert Waldman '57 (whose score for the off-Broad- 
way Miss Dnisy is an inspired blend of down-home 



36 / MARCH 1990 





^H«( 


1 




1 



Drtvtng Miss lKis\ 




Alfred Uhry's play and 

movie capture the 

need for human dignity 

and companionship 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 37 



•HHii 






Playwright Alfred Ubry '58 thought Driving Miss 
Detisy would die "aiter five weeks off-Broadway. " 
Three years later, his play has won a Pulitzer, has 
been performed around the world, and is still 
running on Broadway. 



banjo plunks and elegant cello and violin strains). 
Many of them have remained close friends. 

Will MacKenzie is thrilled about Uhry's success: 
"It's wonderful to see someone who is such a warm, 
dedicated family person and who has been such a 
supportive friend get a hit so late in his life. He de- 
serves everything he gets." 



It may be that his devotion to family life delayed 
Uhry's writing success. But his wage-earning jobs 
- teaching theater and doing rewrites of early 
musicals for the Goodspeed Opera House in 
Chicago - taught him much about technique that 
he drew on when writing Mifs Drt/si/. 

"In a musical, you almost never go more than 
four pages between songs," Uhry explained, "so 
you get the dialogue out there as quickly as you 
can. (Composer and lyricist] Frank Loesser (with 
whom he apprenticed as a lyricist fresh out of col- 
lege! taught me that every phrase, every word in 



every phrase, and every syllable in every word has 
to be able to be supported - you have to understand 
why it's there." 

Being able to see the purpose behind each line 
was a skill Uhry absorbed and refined during many 
years of teaching theater at the Calhoun School in 
New York and at NYU's School of Art. He found 
himself influenced by Shakespeare's sense of clarity 
("He told you what he was going to do and then 
he did it, and then he told you he did it") and by 
Chekhov's accessibility. From both bards the play- 
wright Uhry came to believe that "plays are all 
about character. 

"You am convert the non-converted, but the 
only way to do it successfully is through characters 
that you remain clear about," Uhry said. "For me, 
plot is subject to character. And yet, it's very impor- 
tant in every scene to start at one place and end at 
another 1 may start at one point on this sofa and end 
up right next to myself over there, but I've gone 
somewhere. You have to emotionally take some sort 
of trip or there's no reason for the scene." 

Uhry's keen sense of the drama inherent in 
everyday events was fostered by his childhood ex- 
perience of sitting on the floor in a roomful of adults, 
listening to them tell stories. Storytelling has always 
been an integral part of Southern life, and Uhry's 
family was no exception. He heard family history 
and family secrets - "I never could keep straight 
who you were allowed to tell certain stuff to and 
who you couldn't," he said. 

He learned that his great-grandmother came to 
Philadelphia as an infant in 1848, and that the fam- 
ily moved to Atlanta sometime before the Civil War. 
During the war, they moved back to Philadelphia. 
Uhry's Great-Great-Uncle Ike remained behind and 
served as a blockade mnner for the Confederacy - 
a regular Rliett Butler, whom Uhry regrets not having 
known. 

The family returned to Atlanta in the 1870s. 
There Uhry's grandmother was born, the twelfth 
child of his thirty-eight-year-old great-grandmother, 
who died of childbirth fever. Uhry's grandmother 
was raised by her older siblings, the aunts and un- 
cles who told many of the stories Uhry overheard 
as a child. 

"The stories were sort of gossip, with different 
people chiming in with different versions of what 
they'd heard, and there was a lot of laughter," Uhry 
remembered, the undercurrent of his Georgia ac- 
cent becoming more pronounced. "It seemed so 
spirited to me, and they just forgot I was there and 
said whatever they wanted to say. The ladies' sto- 
ries were in the daytime and the old men's stories 
at night." 

It was from those stories that the soft Atlanta 
voices and distinctive turns of phrase ("carry you 
to the store," "snatch her baldheaded") came flood- 
ing back to Uhry when he sat down to write Miss 
Dnisi/ more than thirty years after he had left the 
South. Admitting that there are things in the play 
that even he was surprised to remember, Uhry 



38 / MARCH 1990 



The film version of 
Miss Daisy received 
nine Academy 
Award nominations, 
including "best 
picture": Jessica 
Tandy and Morgan 
Freeman, at right, 
were nominated in 
the best actress and 
actor categories, 
and Ubry was cited 
for bis screenplay 
adaptation. 



nonetheless believes that if you 
have an ear for it in your child- 
hood, "you can call things to 
mind whenever you need to - 
it's in the marrow of vour bones." 

From the family tales, too, 
came an understanciing of the 
stubbornness and humorlessness 
of his elder great-aunts, qualities 
that are definitely a framework 
for Miss Daisy. Uhry observed 
his aunts going to great lengths 
never to admit that they were 
wrong about anything. "In 
essence, they were perfectly ca- 
pable of saying, 'What if the last 
ten minutes didn't happen?'" he 
explained. 

He also felt that they had no 
sense of humor about themselves. 
Despite the laughter that punc- 
tuated their stories, they never 
stood back to see the humor in 
their speech and in their lives. 

"That's what's funny about 
the character [Miss Daisyl," Uhry 
observed. "She's not trying to be 
funny. She's not trying to be a 
character. She just is what she is." 



Morgan Freeman, who cre- 
ated the role of Hoke off- 
Broadway and reprised 
it in the movie, has often 
said to Uhry that they knew the 
same man. "That elegance, dig- 
nity, sense of etiquette, and high, 
high, high standards," Uhry list- 
ed. "Hoke was so ahead of Miss 
Daisy in so many ways. He was 
a true humanitarian." 

Hoke does more than drive a car. He quietly 
takes care of Miss Daisy, and in the process comes 
to care about her As he penned his tender portrait 
of Hoke, Uhry was carried back to his family's 
kitchen, where he learned to "really love Will Cole- 
man," and where it was permissible to be physi- 
cally demonstrative about that love in a way that 
was not practiced in the rest of the house. 

"The family was very sedate, very polite, yet 
very warm," Uhry remarked. "We were not taught 
to say what we felt, and it's been my observation 
that most people don't say what they feel. 

"But in the South it had a lot to do with style," 
he mused further. "In the South, what you say may 
not be as important as the way you say it. And be- 
ing Southern, I'm still fascinated by what people 
don't say." 

That sense of ellipsis stood Uhry in good stead 
in Miss Dnis}/, both on stage and in the film. On 




stage, the characters' speeches are so succinct and 
their gestures so underplayed that the audience's 
imagination is given time and space in which to 
expand. In the film, that sense of "less is more" is 
maintained in visual images as well, as in a scene 
in which Hoke and Miss Daisy fix supper together 
but eat in separate rooms. 

Another aspect of Uhry's childhood that he de- 
veloped in Miss Dnisi/ was his Jewishness. Although 
he grew up with, in his words, "a watered-down 
form of Judaism," which included Christmas trees 
and no Hanukkah, no seders, no bagels and lox, he 
nonetheless felt different from his classmates, who 
teased him about his physical features. Running his 
fingers through his dark curly hair, Uhry chuckled 
as he recalled the irony of singing "Lord, I Want to 
Be a Christian" as a member of the Atlanta Boys 
Choir. 

Continued on page 55 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 39 



II 



l:^ 



A View from 
the Futon 



A dad's yen for a 'subterranean view'of 

his daughter's education at Brown 

leads him on a merry chase - and to 

some happy conclusions 



By George Carey 
Illustrations by Sear\ Kelly '84 




40 / MARCH 1990 



Mv introduction to Brown came when I 
dro\'e my daughter, Merritt, tiown from 
Massachusetts tor an interview on a 
bright tall morning in 1986. No, that's 
not quite true. 1 had applied to Brown in 1952 and 
turned up on campus for my own interview. Back 
then I wasn't much of a student - or anything else 
for that matter - and they turned me down. 

A lot had happened to Providence in the inter- 
vening thirty-six years. When I turned off Route 146 
and onto the streets of the city, there wasn't much 
that looked familiar. 1 knew Brown was on a hilltop 
somewhere, but 1 had no idea where. 1 pulled in 
beside a sixtyish-Iooking man wearing a Boston 
Bruins jacket. 

"Here, Merritt," I said, "ask this guy." She rolled 
down the window. 

"Excuse me, sir. Can you tell me how to get to 
Brown University?" 

He looked her over - the long blonde hair, the 
baggy clothes, the trace of acne - and said, "Yeah. 
Study, lady, study." 

A strange introduction. A tough introduction. 
Later that afternoon, when I told this yarn to the 
director of admission, James H. Rogers '56, he gave 
a measured chuckle, then said, "Yes, the word is 
out." Gamely, I tried to impress him with my daugh- 
ter's intellectual qualifications. 1 noted that while 
waiting for her interview she had been diligently 
reading Tt'ss of tlie DTIrbervillcs in the car. "We'd be 
more impressed," he remarked matter-of-factly, "if 
she'd written it." As I say, a tough introduction. 

Eighteen months after that interlude, on a brittle 
Thursday in early April, I drove once again through 
those same Providence streets heading for that same 
Providence hilltop. Merritt had taken the Bruins 
fan's advice; she'd studied hard and had been ac- 
cepted into Brown. With my only child a year-and- 
a-half into her college career, 1 wanted to have a 
look at my investment. As I drove up College Street, I 
kept thinking of a Neiv Yorker cartoon my wife had 
cut out and pasted on the refrigerator door: stand- 
ing before a commencement audience, a capped 



and gowned speaker intones, "And a special word 
of thanks to all your parents. Where you dug up the 
40,000 clams to cover this four-year gig is a mystery 
to us." The cartoon was obviously dated. I had paid 
close to 40,000 clams already, and we weren't 
halfway home. 

I could easily have done this campus foray con- 
ventionally: visiting when I was supposed to, on 
Parents' Weekend in the fall. But I detested prear- 
ranged affairs with big-name speakers and semi- 
nars for anxious parents to learn about "the Brown 
experience." Useful stuff, to be sure, but a bit anti- 
septic for my tastes. 1 wanted a subterranean view, 
or as near to that as I could get hanging out with 
my daughter for a couple of days mid-week on 
campus. 

1 came close to that low-level perspective sleep- 
ing on the floor in Merritt's room at 111 Brown 
Street. Now, 111 Brown isn't a dormitory as such. 
Rather it is a turn-of-the-century house converted 
to student living quarters where fourteen men and 
women eat, drink, sleep, bathe, brush their teeth, 
play music, smoke dope, have food fights, study, 
make love, write, yell, laugh, and endure. It's one 
of two environmental studies houses on campus, 
as I learned, and only about thirty students actually 
live like this. Originally these houses were set up 
primarily for students with environmental concerns 
who had taken a course in conserving energy and 
wanted to put their new-found theory into practice. 
Some of those conservation measures persist (for 
instance, no toilet flushing until you defecate), but 
now the house members are not so finely delineat- 
ed, so far as I could see, and anyone can live there 
who likes to eat a lot of wheat germ, hay, nuts, and 
rice. 

Anyway - the view from the floor. Actually, I 
didn't sleep on the floor; I slept on a futon on the 
floor. When I arrived at 111 Brown Street, 1 didn't 




know what a futon was. I was told it could double 
as a couch, a chaise lounge, a bunch of other things; 
yet seeing it lying there on the floor in Merritt's 
room, it looked for all the world like a plain old 
mattress to me. I'm not sure who else has noticed 
this, but one thing 1 know for sure: today's youth 
don't put a premium on furniture. In Merritt's 
twenty-two-by-twenty-four-foot room at home, 
there are but two articles: a mattress on the floor 
and a bureau against the wall. When she's in resi- 
dence for any length of time the number of items in- 
creases by three: a stereo and two speakers. By com- 
parison, her college room seemed downright 
cluttered. Two futons, two desks, a ficus, an aspara- 
gus fern, a computer, two bookcases - though the 
books were everywhere but on the shelves. 1 can't 
remember now if there was a bureau. If so, the 
clothes were anywhere but in the drawers. 

"How do you like our tapestries, Dad?" Merritt 
asked when 1 arrived. 

"Tapestries? What tapestries?" 

"On the wall, there." 

Tapestries was hardly the word I would have 
used. These looked more like bedspreads, but I had 
to admit they enlivened the decor. Interspersed be- 
tween these wall hangings were signs that implored 
me to "Stop Apartheid" and to "Love Mother Earth" 
and noted that "It will be a great day when our day- 
care centers have all the money they need and the 
Navy has to have a bake sale to buy battleships." 

I had been in the room half an hour when Mer- 
ritt whisked me off to her sociology class, "The 
American Heritage: Racism and Democracy." As 
we walked down Brown Street toward Wilson Hall 
I set my collar against the northwest wind while 
Merritt gave me a nmning fix on the course - the 
history and problems of ethnic groups, taught by a 
series of outside lecturers. For the next hour-and-a- 
half. Professor Emeritus John Ladd from the philos- 
ophy department led forty-odd students and one 
father-cum-visitor through a discussion of race, 
equality, and freedom. Ladd seemed the archetypal 
Ivy League professor: tweed coat, bow tie, shock of 
white hair standing straight up at the back of his 
head. His demeanor was thoughtful, his movements 
controlled and deliberate, his voice modulated and 
full of wisdom. 

Growing up in Princeton, New Jersey, in the 
late forties and early fifties, I had seen plenty of 
men like John Ladd - Princeton professors walking 
slowly to or from class, briefcases in hand, white 
heads bent forward, pondering - 1 always imagined 
- something lofty. It was this image that I carried 
with me, but I presumed that the sixties had pretty 
much consumed the breed. Finding John Ladd in a 
Brown classroom on this April afternoon was like 
being plunked into a time warp. I almost leaned 
over to ask my daughter if the man were a campus 
institution, but I realized that she wouldn't have 
had any idea what I was talking about. 

John Ladd may have been an old stereotype of 
mine come to life, but he was also a scholar on top 



of his material. Anyone listening that afternoon 
left the class able to distinguish between the Aris- 
totelian notions of corrective and distributive jus- 
tice. They would know forever the difference be- 
tween "color-blindness" and "color consciousness," 
for Professor Ladd had isolated and explained 
these notions in his graceful and deliberate way, 
and there was no gainsaying the feeling that if 
Professor Ladd said it was so, then it was. 



After class Merritt and 1 detoured on our 
way back to her room, she running er- 
rands at "The Rock" (the library), "The 
Blue Room" (the snack bar), and the 
P.O. Once back in my daughter's room, I lay on the 
futon and read, while Merritt worked on her com- 
puter, touching up a paper due the next day in her 
creative writing class. The late-afternoon sunlight 
angled through the moving branches of a tree out- 
side and played a tattoo on the dusty floor. Some- 
one was baking Toll House cookies in the kitchen, 
and the aroma drifted up the stairwell. The lyrics 
from a Joni Mitchell song filtered in from another 
room: "Morning Morgantown, Buy your dreams a 
dollar down." 

It all seemed so elementally right. You went off, 
got a good intellectual jolt in class, and then came 
back to think about it in surroundings that were, in 
my daughter's terminology, "mellow." If this was 
what modern academic life was about, there seemed 
much to recommend it. And Merritt's room itself, 
with its wonderful compactness, fit the endeavor 
nicely. The computer was two steps from the futon, 
which was liberally spread with my daughter's 
working library, all those books that weren't in the 
bookcase. 

"This must be a great place to work, Merr," 1 
said. 

"It is. Dad, except when my roommate and her 
boyfriend get wrestling around on that bed there. 
Then it's kind of hard to concentrate." 

I was amused. In truth I envied the casual way 
these college students lived. In the years since I had 
graduated from college, a lot of the bowing and 
scraping between the sexes had given way to a much 
more forthright and honest attitude toward human 
relationships. Both my wife and I had attended 
Middlebury College during the early ice ages of the 
fifties, when men and women lived on separate 
campuses, and God save your tormented soul if 
you were caught on the women's campus after the 
9-o'clock curfew. Every night, a no-nonsense Irish 
dean named "Ma" Kelley patrolled the perimeters 
with a heavy martial air. 

I was just beginning to sink into the congeniali- 
ties of the Brown afternoon, stretched out on the 
futon, driving hard through Anthony Lucas's Com- 
mon Ground, when Merritt announced it was exer- 
cise time. I've discovered that when you move with 
this age group, you do so in spurts and bursts. The 



42 / MARCH 1990 







measured tread is not a common pace. Quicker 
than it takes to tell we were dashing downstairs to 
the car and spinning through the East Side to a play- 
ing field next to Marvel Gym, which the ultimate 
frisbee team had commandeered for its practices. 
All at once, the language of earlier that afternoon - 
primary g(pods, reverse discrimination, preferential 
admissions, establishment liberalism - gave way to 
such terms as stalls and cuts, diskups, layouts, dives, 
dumps, and stuffs. I didn't understand exactly what 
was taking place on the field, all the dashing and 
diving about, but the participants certainly were 
getting a good workout. 

Initially I'd been disappointed when Merritt 
wrote to say she'd decided not to try out for varsity 
crew at Brown. In high school, she'd developed into 
a commendable oarswoman, and 1 looked forward 
to watching her perform in college. When her letter 
arrived, I called to lodge my complaint, but Merritt's 
reasoning shut me down in a hurry. To row compet- 
itively at Brown, she explained, would restrict her 
college career to two things, handling an oar and 
handling her studies, not much else. Wasn't college 
supposed to be more than that? 

It was, of course, and I admitted as much. Yet it 
seemed sad that even in the Ivy League, where they 
supposedly downplay the role of sports, athletics 
have become so specialized. The ideal I grew up 
with, the "all-around athlete," has lapsed from to- 
day's collegiate vocabulary, and now a single sport 
demands a year-round commitment. I suppose mv 
nostalgia is intensified by a youth spent in Prince- 



'I didn't understand all the dashing 

and diving about, but the ultimate 

frisbee players were getting 

a good workout' 

ton at a time when the three-ply was not only my- 
thologized, but also still found on the playing fields. 
I grew up playing hockey in a rink named after the 
great scholar/athlete Hobey Baker, and 1 remember 
distinctly the spring day they plucked the Army 
star, Glenn Davis, out of the late innings of a base- 
ball game and whisked him to Palmer Stadium so 
he could nm in (and win) both the 440- and 220- 
yard dashes. 

Now I stood on the sidelines watching my sin- 
gle-ply athlete/daughter periodically dive onto the 
muddy field trying to come up with the disk. It was 
cold for April, damn cold. The late afternoon sun 
did no good, and the wind seemed to be blowing 
down from snowfields somewhere. I stood it as 
long as I could, then trotted back to the car, turned 
on the heater, and began to read some student fic- 
tion Merritt had given me - the fare for tomorrow's 
creative writing class. 

At 6:30 that evening, Merritt and I walked 
through the back door of 111 Brown Street and into 
the small kitchen. Supper was underway. A gigan- 
tic wok steamed on the stove. Melissa tended that. 
Jeff tossed an equally large salad in a bowl on the 
kitchen table. The room was bathed in candlelight. 
Fetching, 1 thought, and said so. Bill pointed over- 
head and said, "Damned fluorescent light's gone 
out," and when I looked, sure enough, a lone fluo- 
rescent bulb flickered meekly along the ceiling. 

1 carrieti my plate into the living room, poking 
the contents to see if maybe there were some chicken 
or meat somewhere (there wasn't), and sat down to 
eat among the bicycles. The living room had in it a 
nondescript collection of sofas and chairs, and more 
bedspread /tapestries on the walls, but mostly it 
had bicycles. Six of them ringed the room resting 
against the walls, the bookcases, the fireplace. All 
these wheels and chains and sprockets gave the 
room a sense of constant motion. 

The conversation rolled along as well, as differ- 
ent shifts ambled in to eat. Here were articulate 
young people with plenty of arresting information 
on their mintls. 1 sat for more than an hour and 
listened while the talk moved easily from politics 
to drugs to education to date rape to courses and 
course work. 1 even heard a good cheating story. 
One enterprising young man, or so the campus 
folktale had it, goes into an exam knowing noth- 
ing. In the blue book the professor hands out, he 
writes a letter to his mother. When finished, he 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 43 



gets up and secures another blue book. He writes 
nothing in that. At the end of the exam, he hands 
in the letter he's written to his mother. Then he 
takes the empty book to the library and records all 
the correct answers and sends that along to his 
mother The next day the professor calls the student, 
asking why he's turned in a letter to his mother. 
"Oh my god," says the student, "1 must have sent 
the exam home to my mother by mistake." So the 
professor calls the boy's mother and tells her to 
send any mail from her son directly back to him 
without opening it. She does, and, sure enough, 
the student passes the course with an honors grade. 

After supper I was back on the futon again, 
reading, while Merritt worked at the computer. 
The house was astonishingly quiet. Shortly after 
ten, there came a break, and people wandered into 
the room for a short time. When they left, Merritt 
and I talked for a while as I gently probed to see 
what was really taking place between my daughter 
and Brown. 



Something was going on all right. Merritt's 
own intellectual renaissance actually had 
begun back in high school at the point 
where rote studying gave way to curiosity, 
and learning became less a task, more a personal 
mission. That process seemed to be moving into a 
higher register at Brown. Those initial enthusiasms 
of discovery were now stretching toward a defin- 
able maturity. I saw it in the way Merritt talked 
about books, in the way she selected her courses; 
I'd detected it in the letters she wrote home, in the 
papers she sent for my reaction. 

There was nothing earth-shattering taking place 
here, I knew that. Merritt wasn't going to shake the 
culture with a split atom or a light bulb, but she 
seemed to have her hand on the touchstones of 
higher education, and she was talking about them 
in a way that made me envious. I'd not made any 
sense out of education until I was twenty-two. At 
that point, after a two-year stint in the paratroop- 
ers had knocked the contrary stuffing out of me, I 
had reentered college and suddenly had begun to 
do a great deal of constructive thinking. Merritt 
was way ahead of me, that was clear; she was only 
nineteen. 

Our discussion was lilting along, I thought, 
when my daughter all at once stood up and said, 
"Well, Dad, I'm off." 

"What do you mean, you're off? Off where?" 

"Off to spend the night with Chuck." 

"Oh, I see." 

I'd met Chuck. He was a male friend whom 
Merritt had been seeing for the last six months. He 
seemed like a nice guy, but isn't that what all fathers 
say about their daughter's male friends unless they 
are insufferable fools? I also knew that Merritt was 
in the habit of going off to his place in the evenings, 
so at least she was being up-front about the whole 



thing. Besides, I couldn't very well have said, "Oh 
my god, no, daughter, you can't go gallivanting 
out there this late and leave me by myself in this 
strange house." That just wouldn't have worked. 

"My roommate's gone," Merritt said, "so you've 
got this place all to yourself. See you early tomor- 
row." 

With another of those unaccountable bursts, she 
bolted down the stairs, got aboard her bicycle, and 
rode off into the Providence night. And I was left 
alone to spend my first night on a futon. 

Reveille came early, at least by the standards 
Merritt set at home. At 0700 she came through the 
door. She hauled me out of bed, and we went wing- 
ing over to Louis' nearby eatery. From there we 
dashed to a copy emporium where my daughter 
ran off photocopies of her fiction piece to distribute 
in the upcoming creative writing class. As I remem- 
ber, there was a stopover at the library, a run to the 
Registrar's Office, a swing by the writing program 
offices, and one other errand before we returned to 
111 Brown for more studying. It wasn't even mid- 
morning, and 1 was ready for a nap. 

By the time I walked into the creative writing 
class at 1 o'clock that afternoon, 1 felt prepared. 1 
had read all four papers that were to come up for 
review. Intermediate Fiction was a small class, nine 
members present. The instructor, a woman in her 
mid-thirties, was a graduate student who already 
had had a volume of her stories published. She 
spoke with what 1 took to be a New York accent; 
more noticeable, she wore a pair of see-through 
black lace gloves, which she tugged at occasionally 
in a let's-get-down-to-business kind of gesture. 

Of the four stories we critiqued that period, two 
seemed especially good. Though I confess to being 
no critic of fiction, there was a tone and style to 
these pieces that I was not prepared to find in un- 
dergraduate work. One writer, Elizabeth Savage 
'89, had caught the offbeat disposition of a patient 
on the psychiatrist's couch. "An Afternoon Session," 
she called her story, and her main character talked 
to her psychiatrist in a wonderful, zany voice: "I 
knew a person once who might have been able to 
change things. She wore a lot of blue. I don't know 
why. But she did. I always thought it was a nice 
touch, but I'm not sure that anyone else noticed. 
She wore blue and she could have changed things. 
But she didn't. She got run over by a truck on a 
sunny blue day. It was a UPS truck . . . Did I men- 
tion that I used to collect orange peels? Well, I did. 
I would peel the orange so that the skin came off 
in one piece. Then 1 would carefully glue the pieces 
together so that it looked like a whole orange. At 
the time it seemed like a very useful hobby. It's 
just that after a while you have to move on to oth- 
er things." 

Another student, a biology major named Mary 
Memmott '89, had written an account of a young 
botany doctoral student whose life, with its strange 
lifts and falls, its odd filial and amorous relation- 
ships, gets reflected in the association she has with 



44 / MARCH 1990 



plants she tends at the university greenhouse. The 
greenhouse furnace quits one winter night, and she 
returns the next morning to find her life changed. 
Memmott wrote: "There was no whispering either, 
her plants were dead. She wanted to cry for them, 
but she found herself shaking not with tears, but 
just with cold. She stood up and walked back to- 
wards the pond, but stopped to smile at the cacti, 
and to say goodbye to the desert." 

I was impressed and jealous at the same time at 
this sudden uprising of young talent. There was 
publishable stuff here, and I told the instmctor so 
after class. But I worried what would become of all 
this talent. Would this young biology major ever 
think of giving up the chlorophyll and the embryos 
to turn her hand in a serious way to writing? As 
the class continued, 1 remembered a story that writer 
Peter Matthiessen once told. Years before, while 
teaching a creative writing class at Yale, he had been 
flabbergasted by his students' talent. "Their work 
was astonishingly good," he said. "But oddly enough, 
with all the talent that was there, I never heard from 
any of these people ever again, except one - and 
he ended up writing speeches for Richard Nixon." 




Tm not the slightest bit upset 

about the 80,000 clams this gig 

will cost' 



I did not stay on campus long after the writing 
class was over, just enough to gather my be- 
longings and say goodbye. Merritt had things 
to do: a paper to work on, another frisbee 
practice in preparation for a match against Wesleyan 
the next day. Best to cinch the fatherly visit quickly 
and get out of town. 

I drove back to Massachusetts, reassessing. The 
Brown environment could not, so far as I could see, 
be better constructed to deliver the liberal arts ed- 
ucation that Merritt seemed to be angling toward. 
The place was awash in opportunities - social, cul- 
tural, intellectual. And 1 had to acknowledge a 
small dollop of fatherly pride observing my child 
taking advantage of what was at hand - testing her 
academic capacity with challenging courses, honing 
her writing skills, thinking hard about complex is- 
sues. 

They say that educating your child is a little 
like buying a house: you put your money down 
and you don't look back. That may be, but I don't 
think it hurts to look out of the corner of your eye 
from time to time, just to see what's going on. And 
this is what my small foray afforded me, a sideways 
glance at a process shaping my own flesh and blood 
on a Providence hilltop. As I drove back that after- 
noon, I wasn't the slightest bit upset about the 
80,000 clams or whatever this gig will eventually 
cost. Who could be, witnessing their one and only 
come of age in such a formidable way? One of the 
many legacies Brown will leave my daughter is the 
ability to deal. I could see it surfacing in the self- 
assurance with which she addressed any task or 
moral dilemma. That is the kind of savvy you just 
can't put a dollar sign around. 

What's more, I was convinced that even if Mer- 
ritt didn't want to get educated, it would happen 
anyway at Brown, being mixed up as she was with 
such bright people in this sort of academic commu- 
nity. For a young woman with such sensitive and 
flexible antennae as Merritt's, things looked 
promising. 

At 6:30 that evening, back home, the phone 
rang. It was Merritt. 

"Dad, you're not going to believe this." 

"What?" 

"A real bummer. I broke my collarbone this 
afternoon playing frisbee." Her voice was erratic 
with discouragement. 

"Goddammit, Merr, what a shame." 

"What am I going to do now. Dad?" 

After what I'd seen over the last two days, the 
alternatives seemed limitless, even with a gimpy 
right side. But I knew this wasn't the time to go into 
all that. I opted for humor. 

"You could do like the Bruins' fan suggested, 
remember? 'Study, lady, study' " 

I can't recall whether she laughed or not. I 
don't think so. EO 



George Cnrc\/ is n professor in the writing; program at 
tlic University of Massachusetts at Aniiierst. 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 45 




The women's bowling team of 1922: 
front row, from left, Anna lannacio '24, 
Anna Coggeshall '23, Celia Kaufman '22; 
second row, Katherine Coulton '22, Mary 
McCarthy '22, Ruth Bugbee '23; third 
row, Kathleen Boyd '22, Ruth Johnson 
'24, unidentified, Margaret Perry '22. 



46 / MARCH myo 



The Classes 



By James Reinbold 



I 



26 



The Narragansett Times Publishing Com- 
pany has purchased pubhcation rights to 
Elmer R. Smith's latest manuscript, South 
County Rhymes, a book of eighty poems about 
Rhode Island's vacation area. Meanwhile, the 
South County Tourism Council, Inc., plans to 
bring out this year the third printing of 
Elmer's popular book. South Countxi Trwm. 
He lives in Wakefield, R.I. 



I 



32 



Class reunion chairman Katherine Burt 
Jackson sends the follovi'ing: 

Classmates who attended the off-year re- 
union in 1989 have many happy memories of 
friendships renewed and of a Brown much 
changed but still "our Brown." 

We hope that many class members will re- 
turn for a mini-reunion luncheon at the Re- 
fectory on Saturday, May 26, during Com- 
mencement weekend. You will receive more 
details soon. 

Classmates are saddened by the deaths of 
Mary Rae Jackson and Rosamond King 
Lynch. Our deepest sympathy is extended to 
their families, and to classmate Alice Glndln 
Silver, whose husband, RoUo '31, died m 
September. 



i 



34 



As outlined by Maury Caito at the 55th 
class reunion luncheon, the elected class offi- 
cers voted at a meeting held on Nov. 14 to 
merge the Brown and Pembroke classes of 
1934. Officers are: Max Flaxman, president; 
Lillian Almon Janas, vice president; Edith 
Janson Hatch, secretary; and Dan Earle, trea- 
surer. 

An off-year class reunion luncheon has 
been planned for May 25 at the Metacomet 
Country Club. More about that later 

The class extends its sympathy to Mary F. 
McKay on the loss of her sister, Kathleen A. 
McKay 

Edith Janson Hatch, Cranston, R.l., spent 
last June in Stockholm, Sweden, researching 
family genealogy and meeting with her only 
living relative in Sweden. "The midnight sun 
and mid-summer phenomena were exhilarat- 
ing experiences," Edith writes. "Visiting his- 
toric spots on the many islands of Stockholm 
was breathtaking. I never dreamed my heri- 



tage was so awe-inspiring. 1 recommend a 
trip to Scandinavia for everyone. This was 
my fifth." 



35 



Wallace Buxton, Carmichael, Calif., 
writes that since the 50th reunion most of the 
engineers of '35 have attended mini-reunions. 
"We like these affairs so well we even had two 
in 1989. Ruth and I have attended all of them 
so we have done a bit of traveling. This year 
the engineers will have their reunion on May 
23-25 at Pine Point, Maine, the home of Mary 
Louise Hinckley Record '37." Marv Louise is 
the wife of the late Nelson Record. Wallace 
notes that of the twenty-five engineers who 
graduated in 1935, fourteen are living. 



40 



Stan and Jean Bruce Cummings, Ken 
Clapp, Bob Engles, Russ Field, John Mc- 
Laughry, Harold Pfautz, and Vic Schwartz 

have been meeting monthly at the Faculty 
Club to firm up plans for our "Golden Bear 
50th Reunion." A letter describing the details 
and a reservation form will be in the mail in 
late March. You should be receiving your 
copy of our reunion book complete with the 
"before and after" photographs in early 
April. 

In the meanwhile, Harry Henshel and 
Fred Bloom, with the help of Don Amidon, 
Dave Borst, Bert Buxton, Len Canner, Bob 
Clifford, Dick Horton, Milt Leichter, and 
McLaughry, Pfautz, Stan Cummings, and 
Schwartz from the activities committee, are 
engaged in raising funds for our reunion gift 
to the University. 

Don't forget May 25 to 28, 1990! 

E. Howard Hunt's espionage novel. The 
Stmkov Ci)/ifi'ss;i)ii, was published in Decem- 
ber under the name of PS. Donoghue. He an- 
ticipates publication in 1990 of three novels 
by Scarborough House and one by St. Mar- 
tin's Press, all under his true name. He lives 
in Guadalajara, Mexico. 



43 



Frederic W. Allen, Jr. (see Jennifer Allen 
Melson '74). 



44 



Ken McMurtrie has moved from St. John, 
Virgin Islands, to Salem, S.C., after Hurricane 
Hugo damaged his island home. "Fortunate- 
ly, we were in Chile on a fifty-day cruise 
around South America at the time of the 
storm. After ten years of tropical living on a 
small, eighteen-square-mile island with a 
population of 2,500, we are having an excit- 
ing time reacquainting ourselves with shop- 
ping centers, hospitals, new cars, and cultur- 
al events." 



45 



If winter comes, can spring be far behind? 
And that means the 45th-4-45 celebration on 
May 25-28. The detailed program and regis- 
tration form will be mailed to all members of 
the class this month, along with a list of those 
who have indicated their intention to attend. 
Make your plans now and join the reunion/- 
celebration list. 



46 



Janice Ward Allen (see Jennifer Allen 
Melson '74). 

Bette Lipkin Brown, West Palm Beach, 
Fla., is chairing an effort to raise funds for a 
Brown Chair in Women's Surgery at Women 
& Infants Hospital in Providence. Unlike a 
campus-based chair, which traditionally sup- 
ports the chairholder's salary, this chair will 
provide income to supply the academic 
needs of the program at the hospital. It is an 
innovative fund-raising effort, and one that 
will support the treatment and research of 
problems that critically affect the quality of 
life of women. Clare Gregorian is honorary 
chair. 



52 



Robert W. Goodwin, president of AIM, 
Inc., an employee benefits corporation in 
Jacksonville, Fla., represented Brown at the 
inauguration of James J. Brady as sixth presi- 
dent of Jacksonville University and immedi- 
ate past president Frances Kinne as chancel- 
lor. Bob lives in Jacksonville. 



53 



Dr. Lois Black, Syracuse, is a research as- 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 47 



Louis B. Palmer '28 



Raise high 

the roofbeam, 

fund-raiser 

In \'^72, Louis Palmer and his wife, Billie, 
retired to Mystic, Connecticut. Since then, 
it is estimated that he has raised half a mil- 
lion dollars for community projects such as 
the Pequotsepos Nature Center, the Mys- 
tic Depot, and the Mystic Community Cen- 
ter. "1 can never really relax," Palmer told 
The Day {New London, Conn.) in Decem- 
ber. "1 guess fund-raising comes second 
nature to both Billie and me." 

Key to the attraction of fund-raising is 
meeting people, Palmer says, and then 
there is the challenge. "In all fairness, not 
everyone can go out and fund-raise. I re- 
member one time when I got ninety-eight 
of the 208 names on my list to contribute. 
Now that's a challenge." Those who have 
worked with him say his success is the re- 
sult of dedication and talent. Palmer says 
that the kev to good fund-raising is having 
a personal touch with people, something 
that goes beyond the phone calls and mail 
appeals. Yet despite success, fund-raising 
can often be frustrating. "Some people will 
gladly give money," he says, "but they 



sociate professor of pediatrics, SUNY Health 
Sciences Center A clinical psychologist, she 
has published articles about sudden infant 
death syndrome. Her husband, Karl Barth, is 
a professor of mathematics at Syracuse Uni- 
versity. 

Louise Anthony Brundage, Hamden, 
Conn., IS in charge of public services at Ham- 
den Public Library. She received her M.L.S. 
from Southern Connecticut State University 
in 1983. 

Starr Balomenos Demitre is a special 
needs specialist in the Maiden, Mass., public 
school system. 

Charlotte Horton Grantham is a clinical 
audiologist and assistant professor at SUNY- 
Buffalo. She lives in Amherst, N.Y. 



54 



m William V. Polleys is president of the 
materials and controls group of Texas Instru- 
ments, Attleboro, Mass. "Incidentally, my of- 
fice is only a couple hundred feet away from 
where I started thirty-one years ago," lie notes. 
For the past thirteen years. Bill and his wife, 
Nancy, lived in Australia, England, Italy, and 




aren't willing to work to help raise it." 

In New York, where he was a vice pres- 
ident of Morgan Guaranty Trust Compa- 
ny, Palmer served as treasurer of the New 
York Tuberculosis Association from 1960 
to 1970. He was a volunteer for the Visiting 
Nurses Association, and, from 1972 to 1981, 
he was the director, chairman of the finance 
committee, and national treasurer of the 
American Lung Association. He has also 
raised money for Brown. 

After seventeen years, the eighty-two- 
year-old Palmer feels it's time for Mystic 
organizations to get some "new blood" to 
carry on the duties. But then, in his next 
breath, he admits that his retirement from 
fund-raising may just be idle chatter. "1 
refuse to admit it's time to stop doing all 
this. I'm not gonna quit; why should 1? If I 
had to sit in this house all day, I'd go mad." 



Hong Kong. These days they're living in the 
Touissett section of Swansea, Mass. 



56 



Phyllis Macchia Johnson, Cheshire, 
Conn., has been appointed president and 
chief professional officer of the United Way 
of Metrowest, Framingham, Mass. She was 
previously a senior vice president of the 
United Way of the Capital Area in Hartford, 
Conn. Phyllis and her husband, Thomas, have 
two children. 



58 



George F. Kennedy is publisher and pres- 
ident of Prakken Publications, Inc., of Ann 
Arbor, Mich., an independent publisher of 
educational magazines and books. George 
has been with Prakken for eighteen years. He 
lives in Ann Arbor. 



59 



Biology at the University of California at 
Irvine. The nomination is subject to the ap- 
proval of the University of California board 
of regents. In assuming the chair, Philip steps 
down as associate vice chancellor of health 
sciences at the UCI College of Medicine, a 
position he has held since 1987. He joined the 
faculty of UCI in 1977 as chair of the depart- 
ment of obstetrics and gynecology. Philip is 
known for his research on biological response 
modifiers such as interferon and their use in 
the treatment of cancer He lives in Santa Ana, 
Calif- 
Ed Goldman has bought a house in Provi- 
dence after living for the past five years in 
Europe and Asia. 

S. Albert Hanser, Minneapolis, writes that 
one daugliter is married, two are in college, 
and Albert is a sophomore at Blake in Min- 
neapolis. "I can't wait to pack it all up and 
live on the north shore of Lake Superior in 
northern Minnesota." 

Anne Crookall Hockenos is assistant edi- 
tor of periodicals and coordinator of the cata- 
logue at Skidmore CoUege in Saratoga Springs, 
N.Y. Her husband is a professor in the philos- 
ophy department. 

Val Loiselle, Columbia, S.C, writes that 
his stm and daughter are graduates of Catholic 
University. Val is working in chemical waste 
management and was recently on assignment 
in Princeton, N.J. 

Jim Steiner, Montclair, N.J., is a member 
of The Big Apple Chorus, a barbershop cho- 
rus, which will represent the Mid-Atlantic 
District at the international championship in 
San Francisco in July 

Jackson D. Waterbury, St. Louis, started 
Keystone Consulting Group in 1988, special- 
izing in small- and medium-sized businesses. 
He recently doubled the size of the group 
and now has five principals and two associ- 
ates. 

Dr. Lawrence Weene has been practicing 
ophthalmology in Brockton, Mass., for twen- 
ty-two years. Daniel is a junior. Larry and his 
wife, Diane (Wellesley '64), compete in inter- 
national ballroom dancing in their spare time 
and fake lessons from "the incomparable 
Suzanne Hamby '77. If she can make a 
dancer out of me, she can do it for anyone." 



60 



Kenneth L. Beaugrand is heading the 
Canadian operations headquarters of The 
Manufacturers Life Insurance Company in 
Waterloo, Ontario. 



Mathew Frauwirth has opened Bed- 
spread Mill Outlet & Window Decorating 
Center in New Bedford, Mass., at a new loca- 
tion. His son, Kenneth '92, a biochemistry 
major, is a violinist with the Brown Orches- 
tra, as was Mat. 



62 



Dr Philip DiSaia has been nominated to 
fill the Dorothy Marsh Chair in Reproductive 



The Rev. Thomas M. Carson, Anacortes, 
Wash., head of the volunteer and chaplaincy 



48 / MARCH 1990 



program M Island Hospital in Anacortes, has 
been named secretary for education in the 
parish community by the United Church of 
Christ's Board for Homeland Ministries. He 
began work with the national church board 
ni New York City on Jan. 15. He has also 
taught philosophy and ethics at Skagit Valley 
College in Mt. Vernon and Oak Harbor, 
Wash., since I'^S?. Tom and his wife, Carol, 
haye three children- 
Richard Kostelanetz, New York City, re- 
cently published On Inuovatwe Music(ian)f, 
interviews with avant-garde composers and 
essays on the state of contemporary music 
and rock in the 1960s. Last fall he showed 
videotapes in Hamburg and Geneva. He is 
finishing Kaddisli. an audiotape/composition 
commissioned by Westdeutscher Rumdfunk- 
Horspielstudio-3, for broadcast next fall, and 
a book of essays on poetry is scheduled for 
publication by Southern Illinois University 
Press in 1990.' 

Dorothy Pierce McSweeny, Washington, 
D.C., writes that her son, Ethan, is a fresh- 
man at Columbia. 

Ralph E. Watson has joined Marketing 
Corporation of America, Westport, Conn., 
as a managing partner and principal with the 
company's development agency. Sixteen years 
ago, Ralph founded, and then served as pres- 
ident and chief executive of, Powerbase Sys- 
tems, Inc., a New York-based computer soft- 
ware development and publishing firm. He 
sold the company in 1985 and joined Citibank 
in New York as vice president and business 
manager of individual banking operations. 
He lives in New Canaan, Conn., with his wife, 
Deirdre, and their four children. 



64 



Michael Lee Gradison, a real estate devel- 
oper and investor and adjunct faculty mem- 
ber in criminal justice at the School for Public 
and Environmental Affairs, continues as ex- 
ecutive director of the Indiana Civil Liberties 
Union, a position he has held since 1983. He 
is chair of the Indiana Repertory Society, In- 
diana Repertory Theatre, Inc., and commis- 
sioner of the Indiana Arts Commission. His 
daughter, Katja, is 13. Michael lives in Indi- 
anapolis. 



65 



Daniel L. Kurtz and his wife, Elizabeth 
Olofson, announce the birth of their second 
son, Peter Michael, on Dec. 23. Dan hopes to 
introduce Peter to his father's classmates at 
the 25th reunion in May. At home: 335 Green- 
wich St., New York, N.Y 10013. 

Robert Peck is the founder of Elder Care 
Resources, Inc., of Providence. The service 
company recently received a $100,000 loan 
from Business De\elopment Company of 
Rhode Island, a quasi-public company that 
provides loans to Rhode Island companies to 
meet their growth and expansion needs. The 
loan will permit Elder Care Resources to in- 
crease its staff to fifty from twelve. 



67 



Susan Becker Ott has opened a private 
practice in geriatric social work in Winston- 
Salem, N.C. Her agency. Counseling Access, 
offers individual and family counseling, edu- 
cational seminars, and caregiver programs 




Home on the range 



Peter Delisser has not uttered one discour- 
aging word, according to a December arti- 
cle in The Wall Street loiinml, since he fled 
his job as an institutional salesman in Mor- 
gan Stanley's convertible-securities depart- 
ment for sanctuary in Sun Valley, Idaho, 
where he now lives with his wife, Melissa. 

Delisser is not the first and no doubt 
will not be the last to flee Babylon for Eden; 
to turn his back on $400,000 to $700,000 a 
year (typical for his former line of work) 
for a more modest income. Delisser now 
manages about $6 million in investments 
for his firm. Sage Capital, in nearby Ketch- 
um, and makes about $40,000 a year. That, 
of course, is pin money, since he primarily 
lives off his investments. 

He misses the New York music scene 



NOLI NOVAK 

and the Mets, but that seems a small price 
to pay. Besides, on their ranch the Delissers 
enjoy skiing, fishing, jogging, horseback 
riding, and hiking. Peter is the host of a 
Sunday-morning jazz show on a local radio 
station. 

And, most importantly perhaps, beau- 
ty surrounds, even in the winter "When 
there's a full moon, the light reflects off 
the snow, and it's so bright you could play 
tennis, almost," he gays with a smile. 



for employers. Susan's husband, David, is 
professor of radiology at Bowman Gray 
School of Meciicine. Stephen is 16. 



68 



Bob Mulholland, artistic director of 
American Festival Theatre, has been produc- 
ing and directing plays in the United King- 
dom, particularly at the Edinburgh Festival 
and in London. He has won the Festival's top 
award the past four years. Bob is looking for 
a small-to-medium-sized American city in 
need of a resident theatre. Ideas, he says, will 
be gratefully received at American Festival 
Theatre, #519 Cooper Station, New York, N.Y. 
10003.(212)279-9321. 



69 



Byron Lichtenberg (see Scott Elder '82). 



70 



It is hard to believe that nearly twenty years 
have passed since we left Brown to head out 
into different directions in the "real world," 
but our twentieth class reunion is almost here. 
The reunion activities committee has tried to 
plan activities during the weekend that will 
be memorable and fun for everyone, but we 
need your attendance for the reunion to suc- 
ceed. We hope as many of vou as possible 
will make it to Providence May 25-28 to share 
stories of the past and present as well as your 
hopes and dreams for the next twenty years. 



71 



J. Jeffrey Reinke was named director, in- 
formation technology, consumer services, for 
Whirlpool Corporation, Benton Harbor, Mich., 
in January. Before joining Whirlpool in 1979, 
he worked in logistics research for Eastman 
Kodak Company, Rochester, N.Y. 



74 



Jennifer Allen Melson and Donald B. 
Melson announce the birth of Garrett Clarke 
Melson on July 17. Bradford is 3. They live in 
North Andover, Mass. Grandparents are Jan- 
ice Ward Allen '46 and Frederic W. Allen, Jr 
'43. 



75 



>' Jan Blacher, associate professor of educa- 
tion at the University of California, River- 
side, was awarded the 1989 research award 
from the American Association on Mental 
Retardation (Region II). She was honored for 
contributing significant new knowledge in 
the field of developmental disabilities and 
for helping to increase public understanding 
and awareness about persons with mental re- 
tardation and their families. Her theoretical 
and practical research focuses on the effect 
severely impaired children have on families. 
Katharine Billings Hudson and David S. 
Bunge were married on Dec. 23 in Darien, 
Conn. Katharine is a development writer at 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 4') 



Alumni Calendar 



March 



Fairfield County, Conn. 

March 22. Brown Club of Fairfield County 
Young Alumni Party. Call Valerie Poirier '85, 
(203) 373-3955. 

Wilmington, Del. 

March 25. Brown Club of Delaware and As- 
sociated Alumni co-sponsored speaker, Senior 
Lecturer Barbara Tannenbauni, Department 
of Theatre, Speech, and Dance, "In the Eye of 
the Beholder; Improving Business Presenta- 
tions and Communications Skills." Call Art 
Green '49, (302) 475-2363. 

Philadelphia 

March 26. Brown Club of Philadelphia and 
Associated Alumni co-sponstired speaker. Se- 
nior Lecturer Barbara Tannenbauni, Depart- 
ment of Theatre, Speech, and Dance, "In the 
Eye of the Beholder: Improving Business Pre- 
sentations and Communications Skills." Call 
Joan Webster '58, (215) 353-1181 (days). 

Washington, D.C. 

March 27. Brown Club of Washington, D.C. 
and Associated Alumni co-sponsored speak- 
er. Senior Lecturer Barbara Tannenbaum, De- 
partment of Theatre, Speech, and Dance, "In 
the Eye of the Beholder: Improving Business 
Presentations and Communications Skills." 
Call Ann Azzi '85, (703) 347-2700 (days). 

St. Louis 

March 28. Brown Club of St. Louis reception 
for President Vartan Gregorian at the Mis- 
souri Botanical Garden. Call Diane Krivit 
Katzman '82, (314) 721-8444 (days). 

New York 

March 29. Brown Club of New York-spon- 
sored speaker. Senior Lecturer Barbara Tan- 
nenbaum, Department of Theatre, Speech, 
and Dance, "In the Eye of the Beholder: Im- 
proving Business Presentations and Com- 
munications Skills." Call NYBC office, (212) 
629-6002. 



April 



Providence 

April 7. Association of Class Officers annual 
meeting, Leung Gallery. CaU Pam Boylan, 
(401)863-1947. 

Fairfield County, Conn. 

April 8. Brown Club of Fairfield County- 
sponsored lecture, "Exploration of Venus," 
with Professor of Geological Sciences James 
Head. Call Geneva Whitney '56, (203) 222- 
1281. 

Denver 

April 11. NASP-sponsored "Decisions '90" 
witli Professor of Biology Peter Heywood, 
for accepted members of the Class of 1994, 
their parents, and alumni. Call Lino Lipinsky 
'79, (303) 388-6399. 

Detroit 

April 11. NASP-sponsored "Decisions '90" 
with Professor of Portuguese and Brazilian 
Studies Nelson Vieira, for accepted members 
of the Class of 1994, their parents, and alumni. 
Call Doug Frankel '86, (313) .355-4141. 

Chicago 

April 12. NASP-sponsored "Decisions '90" 
with Professor of Portuguese and Brazilian 
Studies Nelson Vieira, for accepted members 
of the Class of 1994, their parents, and alum- 
ni. Call Honey Goldberg '79, (312) 348-2918. 

San Francisco 

April 12. NASP-sponsored "Decisions '90" 
with Professor of Biology Peter Heywood, 
for accepted members of the Class of 1994, 
their parents, and alumni. Call Todd Rich- 
man '79, (415) 563-8403. 

Los Angeles 

April 14. NASP-sponsored "Decisions '90" 
with Professor of Biology Peter Heywood, 
for accepted members of the Class of 1994, 
their parents, and alumni. Call Elaine Lustig 
'76, (213) 828-9580. 

Providence 

April 17-18. Bruin Club and NASP co-spon- 
sored event, "A Day on College Hill: A 
Brown Perspective," for accepted members 
of the Class of 1994. Call NASP office, (401) 
863-3306. 



Dates of Interest 

Academic Year 1989-1990 
Spring Recess, March 24-April 1. 

Admission decision letters mailed to 
Class of 1994, April 4. 

Deadline for ballots for election of 
alumni and alumnae trustees, and sec- 
retary and treasurer of Associated 
Alumni, April 16. 

Spring semester classes end. May 8. 

Final exam period, May 9-18. 

Reunion-Commencement Weekend, 

May 25-28. 



Batavia, 111. 

April 21. Brown Club of Chicago and Associ- 
ated Alumni co-sponsored Continuing Col- 
lege seminar, 'The Paradox of Thought: Psyche 
versus Science," at Fermilab, with Professor 
of Physics David Cutts and Assistant Profes- 
sor of Philosophy Philip Ehrlich. Call Josh 
Lowitz '84, (312) 951-5311 (days) or (312) 951- 
5982 (evenings). 

Boston 

April 25. Brown Club of Boston reception for 
President Vartan Gregorian. Call John Daniel 
'84,(617)742-6200. 

New York 

April 30, Brown University Club of New 
York Annual Independent Award Dinner, 
honoring Charles C. Tillinghast '32 and Ted 
Turner 'faO. Call Lacy Herrmann '50, (212) 
697-6666. 



May 



Atlanta 

May 5. Brown Club of Atlanta and Associat- 
ed Alumni co-sponsored Continuing College 
seminar, "Atlanta in Crisis: Prospects for the 
Future," with Assistant Professor of Sociolo- 
gy David Meyer. Call Chuck Taylor '81, (404) 
873-5411 (days). 

Fairfield County, Conn. 

May 8. Brown Club of Fairfield County re- 
ception for President Vartan Gregorian. Call 
Geneva Whitney '56, (203) 222-1281. 

Westchester County, N.Y. 

May 9. Brown Club of Westchester County 
reception for President Vartan Gregorian. 
Call Bob Miller '63, (718) 575-2229. 



New York 

April 5. Brown University Club of New York 
and Associated Alumni co-sponsored Con- 
tinuing College seminar, "The Impact of Me- 
dia: News in the 90s." Call NYBC office, (212) 
629-6002. 



Providence 

April 21-22. Alumni Relations Office and 
Brown Annual Fund co-sponsored Reunion 
'91 Workshop for volunteer leaders. 



Tills calendar If a sampling of activities of inter- 
est to alumni reported to the Brown Alumni 
Monthly at press time. For the most up-to-date 
listing or more details, contact the Alunnil Rela- 
tlons Office, (401)863-3307. 



SO / MARCH 1990 



Bowdoin College in Bainswick, Maine. David, 
a builder and designer, plans to re-establish 
his building practice in Maine, where they 
are living. 

Gustavo Pellon has been promoted to as- 
sociate professor of Spanish and appointed 
director of the Center of Latin American 
Studies at the University of Virginia. His book, 
Jose Lezama Lima: The joyful Viiiou, has been 
published by the University of Texas Press. 
Gustavo and his wife, Karen, live with their 
children, Nicolas, 4, and Sofia, 1, at 79 Oak 
Forest Cir., Charlottesville, Va. 22901. 



80 



I 



76 



Lauren Grodner married Lowell Babus in 
February 1989. They both work for Hertz and 
live at 185 Van Winkle Ln., Mahwah, N.J. 
07430. 



i 



77 



Alden Garrett and Charles Eriksen, pro- 
fessor of oceanography at the University of 
Washington, were married in July. Alden 
continues in solo practice as a family law 
attorney. They live in Seattle. 

Suzanne Hamby (see Lawrence Weene 
■59). 

Katherine E. McClelland {'77 A.M.), who 
joined the Franklin & Marshall (Lancaster, 
Pa.) sociology faculty in 1984, has been grant- 
ed tenure. Her fields of expertise are social 
stratification and the sociology of education. 



78 



Debra Schwartz Chester and John E. 

Chester III '77 A.M. announce the birth of 
Paul Bennett Chester on Jan. 26. John is a 
principal at the investment banking firm of 
Morgan Stanley & Company, and Debby has 
retired temporarily from General Foods, 
where she was a financial manager. They live 
in Harrison, N.Y. 

Dr. Randall T. Drain, Philadelphia, has 
been appointed instructor in pediatrics at Jef- 
ferson Medical College of Thomas Jefferson 
University and a member of the medical staff 
of Thomas Jefferson University Hospital, 



I 



79 



Dr. Kenneth R. Heilbrunn has accepted 
the position of assistant director, cardiovas- 
cular therapeutics, at Ciba-Geigy Corpora- 
tion, a pharmaceutical firm in Summit, N.J. 
Prior to that he was staff internist and direc- 
tor of the intensive-care unit of the 31st 
Technical Air Force Hospital, Homestead Air 
Force Base, in Florida. He served in that posi- 
tion for three years and left the Air Force as a 
major. Ken lives in Chatham, N.J. 

Richard B. Tyler, assistant professor of 
Afro-American studies and psychology at 
the University of Wisconsin at Milwaukee, is 
visiting professor of psychology at Carleton 
College. He served as Carleton's acting direc- 
tor of multicultural affairs and lecturer in 
African/Afro-American studies and psychol- 
ogy during the 1987-88 academic year. 



Rachel Balaban and John Burnham '78 

moved to Middletown, R.I., from Fairfield, 
Conn., in January 1989. Their daughter, Isa- 
bel, was born in May 1988. Rachel has started 
a children's clothing business, Potjandozie 
("clothes that grow with your kids"), and 
John is editor of Sailing World. 

Kimberly S. Davis, a graduate of Boston 
University School of Law, has joined Milgrim, 
Thomajan & Lee P.C., Boston, in the litigation 
department. Before joining the firm she was 
an assistant attorney general with the Com- 
monwealth of Massachusetts in the consumer 
protection division. She lives in Jamaica Plain. 

Bradley J. Richards has been an associate 
in the finance section and international prac- 
tice group of the law firm of Baker & Botts in 
Houston for six years. His wife. Amy, is a 
speech pathologist in private practice, and 
they have two children: Neal, 4, and Jennifer, 
almost 2. They are expecting a third child in 
June. "Although we are not yet true Texans, 
we have learned to coexist (although on 
fighting terms) with cockroaches, fire ants, 
and killer bees." 



81 



Bernard J. Michael and his wife, Haina 
Just-Michael, announce the birth of Rose on 
Sept. 2. Bernie is a real estate attorney with 
Shea & Gould in Manhattan, and Haina is di- 
rector of broadcast relations for the American 
Jewish Committee. They live on the Upper 
West Side of Manhattan. 



82 



2nd Lt. Scott Elder writes that he en- 
gaged in multiple training dogfights against 
Lt. Col. Byron Lichtenberg '69 over the skies 
of New Hampshire. Scott and Byron fly for 
the I04th Tactical Fighter Squadron, Massa- 
chusetts Air National Guard, Westfield, Mass. 
Scott returned from pilot training this past 
summer Byron, who flew in Vietnam, is 
preparing for his second space shuttle jour- 
ney in March 1991. 

Dr Mark A. Friedberg and Dr. Christo- 
pher J. Rapuano are the authors of Wilts Fa/c 
Hos)yital: Office and Emergency Room Diagnosis 
and Treatment of Eye Disease (J.B. Lippincott, 
Philadelphia, 1989). Dr James Handa '81 
and Dr. Marlon Maus '81 contributed. Royal- 
ties from the book have been donated to the 
Wills Eye Hospital residency program. Be- 
ginning in July, Mark will be a retina fellow 
at Washington Hospital Center in Washing- 
ton, D.C., and Chris will be a corneal fellow 
at the University of Iowa. 



83 



Dr. Elissa M. Baker and Dr. George K. 
Gittes were married on June 10 in San Fran- 
cisco. A 1987 graduate of Harvard Medical 
School, Elissa is a third-year resident in pedi- 
atrics at University of California, San Francis- 
co Medical Center. George, a graduate of 
Harvard and Harvard Medical School, is a 



surgical resident there. 

Andria Singer Eisen completed her Ph.D. 
in clinical psychology at the University of 
Rochester in November and is a counselor at 
McMaster University's student counseling 
service. She lives in Toronto with her husband, 
Joel (University of Toronto, '81 M.D.), an assis- 
tant professor of psychiatry at the University 
of Toronto and a staff psychiatrist at Toronto 
Western Hospital. 

Dr. Suzy L. Kim and Walter R. Ott, a visit- 
ing professor of organic chemistry at Brown, 
were married on Jan. 6. A number of alumni 
attended the ceremony. Suzy is a medical res- 
ident at Boston University Hospital. They 
live in Canton, Mass. 



84 



John D. Carroll married Dr Corina Field 



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"LaTortue" Dept, B, Box 1466, Manchester, MA 01944. 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 51 



on July 8 in Caracas, Venezuela. They live in 
Miami Beach, Fla. 

Dr. Michael Gibbons graduated from the 
University of Cincinnati College of Medicine 
and moved to the Philadelphia area with his 
wife, Meryl, a graduate of the Salmon P. 
Chase College of Law. Mike is doing an in- 
ternship in surgery at The Graduate Hospital 
of the University of Pennsylvania and in July 
will start residency training in orthopaedic 
surgery at the Thomas Jefferson University 
Hospital. 

Susan Maimon, New York Citv, spent 
some tmie in Caracas, Venezuela, with Hele- 
na Arellano '85 and James Lieberson '85. 
Susan is an associate at Nixon, Hargrave, De- 
vans & Doyle. 

Dr Jonathan Richman graduated in May 
from Baylor College of Medicine and is do- 
ing his internship in Roanoke, Va. In July 
he'll move to Charlottesville to finish his resi- 
dency in neurology at the University of Vir- 
ginia. 

Pamela Shelber Shapiro and her hus- 
band, Larry Shapiro (MIT '85), live in Mans- 
field, Mass. Pam is a litigation associate in 
the Boston office of Hinckley, Allen, Snyder 
& Comen. She would love to know the 
whereabouts of former Chattertocks. 

Dr Jeanne Krzeminski Valicenti is doing 
her residency in dermatology at Rush-Pres- 
byferian-St. Luke's Medical Center in Chica- 
go. She lives in Hillside, III. 

Tracy Brownell Weisman and Tony Weis- 
man '82 announce the birth of Adam Albert 
Weisman on Dec. 30. "We couldn't have 
imagined a happier way to celebrate the new 
decade." They live in Chicago. 

Frank Mount has been an assistant editor 
at William Morrow Publishers for the past 
three years. Friends can write or call him at 
258 Dean St., Apt. #4, Brooklyn, N.Y. 11217. 
(718) 875-4853. 



I 



86 



Lisa Braff and Robert E. Shea, Jr. '87 

were married on Aug, 20 in Vienna, Va. Ju- 
dith Milch, Ruth Branchaud, and Matthew 
Riven '87 participated in the ceremony along 
with many other Brown alumni. Lisa and 
Bob Uve in Charlottesville, Va. 

Carolyn Glazer is a member of the class of 
1991 at Northwestern's Kellogg Graduate 
School of Management. She worked at Infor- 
mation Resources, Inc., in Boston before 
moving to Evanston, 111. 

Stephen Mahoney is teaching in San 
Francisco. He writes that he sees Tom Drake 
and Rick Weinland. 



87 



m Lee Ann Brown lives in New York City 
and is the Monday Night Reading Series co- 
ordinator at The Poetry Project at St. Mark's 
Church. 

Sarah Buttrey and Kisa Takesue '88 are 
living in Austin, "playing pool, eating chick- 
en-fried streak, and listening to Joan Jett's 
first album. We are employed, but you don't 
want to hear about that." Their address is 611 





-^.•if . «.- - 




mEm^M ^ 


LisaKrohn '85 


^^ ^^ 


Innovator in 
industrial design 

Lisa Krohn stunned the international indus- 
trial design scene when she won first prize 
at Forma Finlandia in 1987. She was still a 
student in the master's program at the 
Cranbrook Academy of Art in Michigan 
when she was granted the 1988 1 1 1 Inter- 
national Fellowship to work with Mario 
Bellini in Milan, Italy. Her winning entry, 
"Phonebook," an integrated telephone and 
answering machine, has since traveled 
around the world in exhibitions and across 
the television screen in commercials. Since 
then, according to Harper's Bazaar (Febru- 
ary), "her innovations have continuously 
turned heads in this male-dominated 
arena." 

"In these post-industrial times, the high- 
est achievement is to express your age, not 


a previous one," Krohn is quoted as say- 
ing. "Any avant-garde object captures the 
ineffable, the way Picasso apprehended 
physics in his Cubist paintings." 

Krohn has opened a studio. Able, in 
New York with industrial designer Martha 
Davis. "I'm making lamps that use olive 
oil in vinyl bags as the diffuser. I'd also 
like to develop a vehicle with on-board 
information about AIDS, drugs, sex," she 
said in the article. "I'd like to expand the 
ways we think about design, integrating 
the casual side of American culhjre with 
high technology." 



East 4bth, Austm, Texas 78751. 

Irine Margolin and Victor Schweitzer '88 
were married on July 9 in Providence. Many 
Brown friends were in attendance. Victor is 
in medical school at UCLA, and Irine is a 
first-year master's student at USC. They live 
in Los Angeles. 

Jill Zuckman covers housing and educa- 
tion legislation in Congress for Congrcsswnal 
Qunricrly Weekly Report in Washington, D.C. 
She can be reached at 1235 Derbyshire Rd., 
Rockville, Md. 20854. (301 ) 762-7988. 



89 



Jennifer Knuth writes that she is "co-op- 
ing " with Richard Wesley '87 Sc.M., Betsy 
Schart '87, Greg Tucker '88, and Dave Lion 

at 4551 4th Ave. NE, Seattle, Wash. 98105. 
"We could say what we're all doing, but we 
don't feel like it. Hello to everyone." 

Steven H. Simon received the Apker 
Award of the American Physical Society, the 
most prestigious award offered at the nation- 
al level to undergraduates in physics. Steven 
delivered a lecture about his work, "A Semi- 
classical Percolation Approach to Electronic 
States in Simple Fluids," at the society's Jan- 
uary meeting in Atlanta. He did his research 
with chemistry professor Richard Stratt and 
Vladimir Dobrosavljevic '88 Ph.D. Steven is 
pursuing a Ph.D. in physics at Brown. 



GS 



Maurice McDowell '50 Ph.D. recently 
returned from Amman, Jordan, where he 
served as a volunteer with the International 
Executive Service Corps (lESC). McDowell, 



retired from DuPont, is an expert in paint 
and coatings, putty, and adhesive formula- 
tions. lESC is a not-for-profit organization of 
American business men and women devoted 
to providing managerial and technical assis- 
tance to private enterprises in developing 
countries. Since 1965, lESC has completed 
more than 12,000 projects in ninety countries. 
McDowell and his wife, Mary, live in Media, 
Pa. 

E. John Ainsworth '57 Sc.M., '59 Ph.D. 
has been appointed scientific director of the 
Armed Forces Radiobiology Research Insti- 
tute in Bethesda, Md. In 1984, he was award- 
ed a Fogarty Senior International Fellowship 
from the National Institutes of Health. Ains- 
worth has served on various national and in- 
ternational commissions, and this year, he will 
complete three years as secretary-treasurer of 
the Radiation Research Society of North Amer- 
ica. He and his wife, Carolyn, live in Bethes- 
da. 

Les E. Erikson '65 Sc.M. has been named 
director of marketing for FLEXcon Company, 
Inc., Spencer, Mass. He was most recently the 
company's technical service manager. Les 
and his wife, Carol, have three children and 
live in Holden, Mass. 

John E. Chester m '77 A.M. (see Debra 
Schwartz Chester '78). 

Katherine E. McClelland '77 A.M. (see 
'77). 

Betsy Parsons '77 M.A.T. is on a one-year 
leave from teaching English at Portland High 
School, Portland, Maine, after working on 
the Coalition of Essential Schools effort there 
since 1984. She is a consultant for the Maine 
Department of Educational and Cultural Ser- 
vices (MDECS) in Augusta. Her address is 4 



52 / MARCH 1990 



Cross St., South Portland 04106. (207) 775-0173. 

Gary L. Sanford '78 Ph.D., assistant pro- 
fessor of biochemistry at Morehouse School 
of Medicine, received a career investigator 
award from the American Lung Association 
in December Sanford is studying the control 
of galaptin production and its role in lung 
development. His research is one of twentv- 
two projects conducted by pulmonary re- 
search scientists in various parts of the coun- 
try under the career investigator awards 
program established in 1985. 

Alice Goldberg '81 Ph.D., Sunnyside, 
N.Y., is engaged to marrv Kesley Diniz Mor- 
eira of Minas Gerais, Brazil. 

Karen King '84 Ph.D. is one of ten winners 
of the 1^89 Arnold L. and Lois P. Graves Awards 
in the Humanities. The Occidental College 
(Los Angeles) assistant professor of religious 
studies will use the grant to further her stud- 
ies of gnosticism and attitudes toward gender. 
King joined the Occidental faculty in 1984 
and is one of two female members of the Jesus 
Seminar, a group of biblical historians who 
examine the historical authenticity of the say- 
ings of Jesus. 

Richard Wesley '87 Sc.M. (see Jennifer 
Knuth'89) 

Vladimir Dobrosavljevic '88 Ph.D. (see 
Steven H. Simon '89). 



Mark Baer '89 A.M. 



Red badge of courage 

As a young woman she ministered to 
the men wounded and dying on Civil 
War battlefields. Later, Clara Barton 
founded the humanitarian relief orga- 
nization known as the Red Cross. 

Clara Barton was born in North 
Oxford, Massachusetts, and spent 
twenty-five years there. Her birthplace 
has now been designated an historic 
site, and Mark Baer recently was ap- 
pointed curator. 

Baer plans to restore the home and 
catalogue all the furnishings. He has 
organized an introductory exhibit and 
plans a program to educate the public 
about Barton's life and work. 

"She basically had a very big heart," 
Baer said in an article in the Worcester 
(Mass.) Telef^ramlGazette. "She went 
out into the battlefields against orders. 
At first they wouldn't let her go, but 
she said: 'Forget you, these men need 
food.'" 

Baer has staged exhibits for the 
Nantucket Historical Society. He told 
the Telegram/Gazette that cataloging the 
Barton family furnishings will take 
about two years; restoring the house 
could take ten. 



Walter Hoving '20, New York City, former 
head of Tiffany & Company; Nov. 28, in New- 
port, R.I. In 1924, Mr. Hoving went to work 
for R.H. Macv & Company and soon was pro- 
moted to vice president. He moved to Mont- 
gomery Ward & Company in 1932 as vice 
president in charge of sales, but left in 1936 to 
become chairman and chief executive of As- 
sociated Dry Goods Corporation, the owner 
of Lord & Taylor, where he was president un- 
til 1946. That year, he founded the Hoving 
Corporation, a holding company whose prop- 
erties came to include Bonwit Teller, the de- 
partment store, until he sold it in 1960. In 
1955 he bought control of Tiffany & Company, 
which he headed until 1980. Perhaps the most 
frequently-told story about Mr Hoving, once 
referred to by Neiu York magazine as New York 
City's "unofficial commissioner of good taste," 
involves President John F. Kennedy's request 
in 1962 for thirty-two Lucite calendar mementos 
to be given as gifts to aides who worked with 
him during the Cuban missile crisis. Mr Hov- 
ing, it is reported, replied, "We don't sell plas- 
tic." Tiffany's then received an order for the 
mementos to be made in silver Another oft- 
told story involves President Dwight D. Eisen- 
hower. Mr. Eisenhower came in to Tiffany's 
to order a gift for his wife. "As president," Mr. 
Eisenhower asked with a grin, "don't I get a 
discount?" Mr. Hoving looking up at a por- 
trait of Abraham Lincoln hanging in the store, 
asked an associate whether Mr. Lincoln had 
received a discount when he bought a gift for 
Mrs. Lincoln. The answer was no: Mr Eisen- 
hower paid full price. In 1976, Brown awarded 
Mr Hoving an honorary doctor of laws degree. 
Survivors include two children and his wife, 
Jane Pickens Langley, 635 Park Ave., New York, 
N.Y 10021. 

Mildred Mowry Fairbrother '22, Graven- 
hurst, Ontario; February 1988. Before her re- 
tirement in 1969 she headed the mathematics 
department at Gravenhurst High School in 
Ontario. There is no information regarding 
survivors. 

Alfred Langdon Fitzgerald '24, Eastchester, 
N.Y; Sept. 21. He worked in the policy pay- 
ment division of Mutual of New York in 
Manhattan for many years before retiring in 
1966 as division director. He was a founder of 
the Office of Aging in Eastchester in the early 
1970s and held various positions there, most 
recently as grants coordinator Mr. Fitzgerald 
helped found the Jansen Memorial Hospice 
in Tuckahoe, N.Y. During World War II, he 
was a member of the Civil Defense League of 
Eastchester Survivors include a grandson, 
Michael '75, and a daughter, Joan Fitzgerald 
Golrick '47, 6 Orleans Ave., Danielson, Conn. 
06239. 



Anne Mildred Fagan Griffin '27, Pascoag, 
R.I.; Aug, 1. She taught in the Burrillville, 
R.I., school system for twenty-five years be- 
fore retiring in 1970. She is survived by two 
daughters, including Margery Coupe, 28 
Cooke Dr, North Scituate, R.I. 02857. 

The Rev William Spencer Litterick '28, '30 
Sc.M., Cranston, R.I., former president of 
Keuka College, Keuka Park, N.Y, and pastor 
of Central Baptist Church, Jamestown, R.I., 
from 1975 to 1987; Nov. 27. He spent his years 
in pursuits and vocations, among them: assis- 
tant headmaster and director of studies at the 
Peddle School, Hightstown, N.J.; director of 
research service at Stephens College, Columbia, 
Mo.; consultant to the Ford Foundation; di- 
rector of the armed forces project for the U.S. 
Department of Defense; headmaster of the 
Harley School, Rochester, N.Y; and president 
of the Educational Records Bureau, Greenwich, 
Conn. When most consider retirement, he en- 
tered Andover Newton Seminary, and at age 
68, began ministering to the parish of Central 
Baptist in Jamestown. He was a former chair- 
man of the board of trustees of the Fleming 
School, N.Y, received an honorary degree 
from Ricker College, and twice won the Keuka 
Award. He was a consultant to many schools 
and colleges and served on several evaluation 
committees for the Middle States Association. 
He leaves four daughters and his wife, Diana, 
106 Roslyn Ave., Cranston 02910. 

Helen B. O'Connor '28, '30 A.M., Providence, 
a teacher at Mount Pleasant High School in 
Providence; Nov. 25. She is survived by her 
sister, Marie, 29 East George St., Providence 
02906. 

Gertrude Grice Davis '29, Pascoag, R.I.; Oct. 
6. She lived for many years in Bradenton, Fla. 
Survivors include three nieces and a nephew, 
Jeffrey Grice, of Cranston, R.I. 

Winthrop Osgood Gordon '29, Santa Ana, 
Calif., a lawyer; in 1986. There are no known 
survivors. 

Elizabeth S. HoUeran '29, West Hartford, 
Conn.; June 19. She was a teacher in the New- 
ington. Conn., school system for twenty-five 
years and was chairman of the Latin depart- 
ment at Milford High School, from which she 
retired. She is survived by two sisters, Frances 
Ringrose of Plainville, Conn.; and Julia Carr 
of Norfolk, Conn. 

Elinor Chase Larson '29, Providence; Oct. 3. 
For many years she owned and operated an 
antique shop. The Craft Studio, in North Scit- 
uate, R.I. Survivors include her daughter, Mrs. 
Ralph Krieser, 45 Beaufort St., Providence 
02909. 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 53 



Margaret A. Conneely '30, '35 A.M., Rumford, 
R.I., a teacher in the Providence School Depart- 
ment for many years before retiring in 1973; 
Aug. 24. She taught at Hope High School and 
was head of the mathematics department at 
Mount Pleasant High School before becoming 
supervisor of mathematics for the East Provi- 
dence School Department. She held many of- 
fices in the New England Mathematics Depart- 
ments Association. Miss Conneely, who was 
a class agent for Brown, also raised Irish terri- 
ers. Her sister, Mary, 1 Mayfair Dr., Rumford 
02916, is her survivor. 

Mary Rae Jackson '32, '37 A.M., Fairfield, 
Conn., Aug. 18. She taught English, German, 
French, and Latin in the Providence school 
system for fifteen years and then taught cre- 
ative writing for ten years in a continuing 
education program after moving to Fairfield. 
She was a member of the board of directors of 
the Fanny Crosby Home in Bridgeport, Conn. 
Phi Beta Kappa. Survivors include a daughter 
and a son, William '74, 289 Fairview Ave., Fair- 
field 06430. 

The Rev Sheldon Tiffany Harbach '33, Stur- 
gis, Mich.; Dec. 5. He received his master of 
divinity degree from the Episcopal Theologi- 
cal School, Cambridge, Mass., in 1936 and 
was ordained a priest at St. Joseph's Episcopal 
Church in Detroit, where he served as assis- 
tant rector until 1938. After leaving Detroit, 
he was rector of St. Andrew's Episcopal Church 
in Dayton, Ohio, for twenty-three years and 
associate rector of St. John's Episcopal Church, 
Sharon, Pa., for eleven years, before retiring 
in 1976. Survivors include three children and 
his wife, Florence, 106 West Congress St., 
Sturgis 49091. 

Kathleen A. McKay '34, '39 A.M., Providence; 
Dec. 26. She was an educattir in the Providence 
school system, where she taught languages at 
Hope, Central, and Classical High Schools for 
forty years before retiring in 1975. She is sur- 
vived by her sister, Mary '34, 65 Cactus St., 
Providence 02905. 

Dorothy Hunt Bassett '35, Lakeville, Mass.; 
Sept. 20. She is survived by a son, William, 15 
Carriage House Rd., Lakeville 02347. 

Ruth Bate Eckardt '35, Asheville, N.C.; July 
8. Prior to World War 11, she was a research 
assistant in the department of genetics at the 
Cold Spring Harbor, L.I., laboratory of the 
Carnegie Institute of Washington. Following 
the war she taught for eighteen years in the 
department of biology at Adelphi University. 
She is survived by her husband, Lisgar, Deer- 
field, 1617 Hendersonville Rd., Asheville 
28803. 

Bernice Bigelow Hunt '36, Washington, DC; 
March 1988. There is no information regarding 
survivors. 

Joseph Navas '37, Eastham, Mass., vice presi- 
dent of sales for the Quaker Alloy Casting 
Company, Myerstown, Pa., before retiring in 
1977; Dec. 20. He moved to Eastham in 1977 



and served on the board of directors of the 
Eastham Council on Aging from 1983 to 1988. 
Survivors include four children, including 
Deborah '65; and his wife, Ruthann, Seaward 
Way P.O. Box 1016, Eastham 02651. 

Gabriel Gever '38, South Yarmouth, Mass., 
a research chemist with Norwich Pharmacal 
Company and Eaton Labs of Norwich, N.Y., 
from 1946 until retiring in 1977; Nov 22. He 
served for several years on the Yarmouth fi- 
nance committee. He was a prisoner of war 
in North Africa from 1943 to 1945. Survivors 
include four children and his wife, Jean, 109 
Captain Bacon Rd., South Yarmouth 02664. 

George William Naden '39, Orlando, Fla., an 
assistant treasurer for the Amica Credit Cor- 
poration for eighteen years before retiring in 
1975; Oct. 30. He was a Navy veteran of World 
War II. Alpha Tau Omega. Survivors include 
his wife, Mary, 3416 Manitou Dr., Orlando 
32809; and a son. 

Leonard Holmes Chatel '42, Wolfeboro, N.H.; 
Sept. 19. He worked for Betz Laboratories of 
Trevose, Pa., as New England sales manager 
for more than forty years. After retiring, he was 
a real estate broker with Maxfield Real Estate 
in Wolfeboro, N.H. Survivors include two chil- 
dren and his wife, Elsbeth Ball Chatel '42, 
Berrywood Dr., Box 656, Wolfeboro 03894. 

Elmer Brown Howell, Jr. '43, Bay Shore, NY.; 
May 4, 19K8. He was a partner in the construc- 
tion firm, E.W. Howell Company. He served 
in the Army Signal Corps during World War 
11. Phi Kappa Psi. He is survived by his wife, 
Suzanne, 29 Garner Ln., Bay Shore 11706. 

James Lemuel Ham '44, Melrose, Mass., a re- 
tired plant engineer for the Converse Rubber 
Company of Maiden and Boston; Aug. 23. He 
served in the Navy during World War II. Sur- 
vivors include a daughter and his wife, Grace, 
131 Boston Rock Rd., Melrose 02176. 

Robert William Jahn '46, Hobe Sound, Fla.; 
date of death unknown. He was the former 
president of Marketecture Incorporated, a 
real estate marketing and development com- 
pany in Pompano Beach, Fla. He is survived 
by his wife, Barbara, 12550 SE Federal Hwy., 
Hobe Sound 33455. 

Alfred Henry Liddle, Jr. '46, Warwick, R.I.; 
Dec. 14. At one time, Mr. Liddle was a devel- 
opment engineer with BIF Industries in Prov- 
idence. He was an Army veteran of World 
War II. Survivors include three children and 
his wife, Doris, 47 Montgomery St., Warwick 
02886. 

Chester Andrew Norek '49, Poughkeepsie, 
N.Y; Aug. 19. He had been an industrial en- 
gineer with IBM in Poughkeepsie from 1966 
until his death. He is survived by his wife, 
Lillian, 12 Woodward Rd., Poughkeepsie 
12603. 

Lloyd Allen Brightman '50, Orono, Maine, 
professor emeritus at University of Maine, 



Orono; Nov. 7. In the 1960s he taught at a 
teacher training college in Kaimasi, Kenya, 
and was director of Friends Boys School in 
Jordan. From 1969 to 1988 he served as pro- 
fessor of human development and education 
at the University of Maine. He was a visiting 
professor at the American University of Le 
Cayes, Haiti, in 1988. A child and family re- 
search laboratory at the University of Maine 
was named the Lloyd Brightman Child and 
Family Research Laboratory m 1989. He was 
a member of the board of directors and former 
president of the Eastern Maine Friends of Re- 
tarded Citizens, a member of the board of di- 
rectors of the Multiple Handicap Center, a 
member of the Governor's Task Force on Child 
Abuse and Neglect, and former vice president 
of the Maine Child Development and Day 
Care Council. Mr. Brightman worked in con- 
juction with the Office of Indian Programs and 
Services, and was instrumental in the develop- 
ment of the peer counseling program at the 
University of Maine. Survivors include three 
daughters and his wife, Imogene, 10 Haskell 
Ave, Orono 04473. 

Burton Alan Lindblom '50, Hanover, Mass., 
president of Abrasives & Tools Inc., of Auburn, 
Mass.; Sept. 25. He served as a corporal in the 
Army's 970th Counterintelligence Corps de- 
tachment in Europe in 1945 and 1946. Sur- 
vivors include his wife, Marilyn, 609 Center 
St., Hanover 02339; four children; and a sister, 
Lois Lindblom Buxton '43, 

Elaine Barry DeHertogh '51, Cumberland, R.I.; 
Aug. 14. She is survived by her husband, Ken- 
neth '51, Louise Luther Dr., Cumberland 02864; 
and a daughter, Deborah '74, '77 M.D. 

William Edward Frank '58, Massillon, Ohio; 
Aug. 26. He was retired U.S. general manager 
of Ansell, Inc., and previously had been vice 
president of sales for Affiliated Hospital Prod- 
ucts for twenty years. He was very active in 
NASP until illness. He played football at 
Brown and was president of Lambda Chi Al- 
pha. Among his survivors are his wife, Diane, 
2855 Roanoke NW, Massillon 44646; and three 
children. 

John Winger Norsworthy '59, Concord, Mass.; 
Nov. 3. Since 1959 he had been associated with 
the Raytheon Company. In 1968 he was named 
personnel director for its division, D.C. Heath 
and Company, and then returned to the corpo- 
rate headquarters in 1985, where he served as 
compensation consultant until his health failed. 
Survivors include three children and his wife, 
Anne Whitney Norsworthy '59, 31 Center 
Village, Concord 01742. 

Brian Liebowitz '91, Great Neck, NY.; Dec. 7. 
He entered Brown in 1984 and was a comput- 
er science concentrator. He created several 
original computer programs, including an in- 
dex of the Greek Classics, which he designed 
at Harvard last summer. Mr. Liebowitz took 
his own life. He is survived by his parents, 
Paul and Rosalinde Ciwal Liebowitz '60, 43 
AUenwood Rd., Great Neck 11023. 



54 / MARCH 1990 



Richard Harrington, Providence, curator of 
the Anne S.K. Brown Military Collection at the 
John Hay Library; Nov. 26. A 1948 graduate 
of Harvard, he was a member of the consultant 
bureau of the Providence Preservation Society 
since 1%3, the publications committee of the 
Brown University Library since 1985, and was 
a consultant to the Rhode Island Historical 
Preser\ation Commission from 1969 to 1978. 
There are no immediate survivors. 

Rabbi Nathan N. Rosen, Jamaica Estates, 
Queens, N.V., former Brown chaplain and 
founder of the campus Hillel chapter; Jan. 23. 
He served congregations in Savannah, Ga., 
Brooklyn, N.Y., and Rockville Centre, N.Y., 
before World War IL During the war, he was 
an Army chaplain. He came to Brown in 1947 
as chaplain and was the founder and first di- 
rector of the Brown chapter of the B'nai B'rith 
Hillel Foundation, a social service organiza- 
tion for Jewish students. During his years at 
Brown, he was active in numerous civic af- 
fairs, ser\ing as president of the Rhode Island 
Board of Rabbis, associate grand chaplain of 
the Masons in the State of Rhode Island, pres- 
ident of the Rhode Island Zionist Region, and 
chaplain of the Shriners of North America. 
He founded the Providence Hebrew Day 
School and served on the Providence Human 
Relations Commission. Rabbi Rosen retired 
from academic life in 1972. He is survived by 
his wife. Rose, a son, and a sister. 



Miss Daisy's Unexpected 
Drive to Success 

continued from page 39 

Uhry's wife had urged him for years 
to write about the South as he knew it, 
but he wasn't convinced that the ordi- 
nary, everyday events of his childhood 
would mean anything to anyone else. It 
wasn't until 1984, when he saw a simple 
off-Broadway play about a black girl and 
a white girl, that "the switch went on." 

"I realized that you don't have to be 
secure about your position in the world 
or think you're gorgeous or be rich or 
sexy or be able to maintain a great rela- 
tionship with the opposite sex or be a 
good parent or anything like that," he 
enumerated, with shotgun delivery. 
"You've just got to be able to know in- 
side what counts for you. 

"There's an art to finding your own 
voice and writing something that hon- 
estly means something to you," he said. 
"And that takes a while. But you're going 
to succeed only if you write what you 
feel." 

Uhry speaks from experience, both 
good and bad. He and Robert Waldman 



did a musical version of John Steinbeck's 
East of Eden in the sixties that closed af- 
ter one night to "scabrous" reviews. Yet 
their adaptation of Eudora Welty's short 
story The Robber Bridegroom in 1976 won 
them lasting acclaim. 

Uhry learned about writing screen- 
plays when he was asked to do a rewrite 
of Mystic Pizza. Having daughters the 
same age as the characters, he took the 
job. Though he did mainly fine-tuning 
with scenes, he also created one scene, 
complete with camera movement. 

When the film rights to Miss Dais}/ 
were sold, Uhry sat down with produc- 
ers Richard Zanuck and David Brown. 
They agreed with his determination to 
retain the classic simplicity of the piece; 
it didn't have to come across as a filmed 
play, but neither did it have to be opened 
up to wide expanses of scenery or extra 
characters. 

Uhry was invited to the filming in 
Atlanta and given credit as associate 
producer, in addition to his screenplay 
credit. He was thrilled to be able to en- 
sure that "the right dishes, the right cur- 
tains, the right streets" were incorporated 
into the movie. Miss Daisx/'s connection 
to Uhry's own family was intensified by 
shooting the film in a house that belonged 
to Uhry's "cousin Bucky's wife's mother 
- that's what family means in the 
South." 

Uhry also traveled to London and to 
Russia this past year for premieres of 
Drilling Miss Daisy. Although Russian 
audiences didn't discern all of the movie's 
nuances, they did understand the inter- 
personal relationships, perhaps better 
than Londoners did, according to Uhry. 

"In London they kept saying things 
like, 'Where's the red meat?' 'Where is the 
scene where they really go at each oth- 
er?'" he recalled. "I said, 'Well, there 
isn't' and 'Well, they wouldn't'. 

"The British like to think of themselves 
as the Greeks and us as the Romans - 
the analogy isn't original with me," Uhry 
continued. "So what they think of as 
American plays is Sam Shepard, David 
Mamet - anything a little vulgar. I think 
my play was pretty much in their yard, 
and they don't want Americans playing 
in it." 

Uhry is at work on a screenplay for 
Richard Zanuck, based on Josephine 
Humphreys' novel. Rich in Love, and on 
another Atlanta-based play, this one more 
pointedly about growing up Jewish in 
the South. Uhry finds himself more at- 
tracted to comedy because he can use it 



as "a means to get at other things." 

"But there's so much luck in getting 
a good idea," he said. "The more I'm in 
theater, the more it all seems very mysti- 
cal. Some plays are blessed, and Driving 
Miss Daisy was blessed from the first 
day." 

That explanation seems far too mod- 
est an acknowledgement of the play- 
wright's own part in Driving Miss Dai- 
sy's good fortune. More to the point 
are Uhry's trained ear for dialogue, his 
knack for capturing character in a word 
and a glance, his talent for telling a good 
story, and his perceptive presentation of 
the human condition. 

Or, as he himself surmised in the 
preface to the published script of Driv- 
ing Miss Daisy: "I can come up with only 
one answer. I wrote what I knew to be 
the truth and people have recognized it 
as such." ED 

Johnette Rodriguez is a freelance writer in 
Wakefield, Rhode Island. 



Finally... 

continued from page 56 

and sensitive, and he hung around. We 
talked, and I thought I understood him. 

One morning at school, the teachers 
were discussing the boy's father, who 
had been knifed and injured the previ- 
ous night. Then I knew I could never 
understand what that child was going 
through. It was so far from my world. 

Today, I wonder what has become of 
him. He would be about twenty-five 
years old. Has he beaten the statistics? 
Is he alive? I would like to believe he 
graduated from college, perhaps even 
from Brown. That's probably unrealis- 
tic. 

Because I've never forgotten, in a 
way I've never left him. And that's how 
we need to feel about each other. Black 
and white; biological relation, friend, 
and citizen. No one group can take on 
the burden of another. But if we realize 
that we can never truly leave each other, 
there's a chance we'll never feel apart. 
And I can dare to hope, to believe, that 
my son will beat the odds. ID 

Linda Casinghino Freeman is a computer 
project leader in Portsmouth, Nezo Hamp- 
shire. 



BROWN ALUMNI MONTHLY / 55 



Finally... 



Chance, race, 
and statistics 

By Linda Casinghino Freeman '72 



When he was eleven years old, 
my son came home from sixth- 
grade health class shocked to learn that 
he stands a high risk of suffering a heart 
attack. Of course, he doesn't smoke, his 
weight is under control, and he's shy of 
forty years. But as a black male, he 
eventually will be in a high-risk group. 

I cringed to think what he must be 
thinking, to feel what he must be feel- 
ing. And 1 wondered how he will feel 
when he learns that he is at risk not only 
of a heart attack, but of unemployment 
and homicide. 

On average, two black males die for 
every white male, according to figures 
from the National Center for Health 
Statistics. Between the ages of fifteen 
and forty-four, the numbers are three to 
one. My son is now twelve. 

As a mother, I wish I could protect 
my son from the statistics and the reali- 
ties of the world. I tell myself that 
knowledge is the best weapon; being 
aware and able to make informed deci- 
sions are the best offense and defense. 

The last time I struggled so hard 
with the realities of race was when my 
son and daughter were in preschool. I 
wasn't prepared to answer the ques- 
tions about whether they were adopted, 
or why they were the color they were, 
or if I was their mother. 

I came to terms with the questions 
and attitudes then. I learned not to ex- 
pect remarks, but not to be surprised 
when they happened. Since we've lived 
mostly in one small city, where my chil- 
dren have attended one grammar 
school, the questions have become less 
frecjuent. But 1 still get startled looks 




BOB DAHM '70 



from people who meet my children first. 
1 can tell they expect me to be black. 
What does that tell me about their inter- 
action with my children? 

As my son approaches manhood, I 
wonder what he should strive for. I 
want to tell my children to achieve. Not 
to be afraid or to hold back. I want to 
tell my son, "Just do it. You can." 

But 1 fear random attacks from 
friends and strangers alike. In the fourth 
grade, a boy who was having a bad day 
pulled off my son's glasses and gouged 
skin from his face. For months my son 
had cream-colored stripes across his 
forehead and down his cheeks. If a 
friend could do this, what would a 
stranger do? 

I want to be confident that my son 
will survive, but I hate the odds. Be- 
cause his mother is white, will he be 
protected? Or will it make it harder for 
him to judge people's motivations? Will 
it hurt him in relating to blacks? 

My son's skin is medium and his 
hair softly curly; I hope both races can 
see themselves in him. But beyond a 
certain age, black is black - not a cute 



child or mixed-race - and prejudice pre- 
vails. 

I try not to be overly protective. But 
am I going to have to live with fear for 
the rest of my life? Statistically, as a 
white female I can expect to live another 
thirty-five years. What is my children's 
life expectancy? 

For not only is black life expectancy 
lower at age ten and on, but from birth 
on. Mothers of black children grieve for 
babies who die; grieve for teenagers 
who are shot, or on drugs. A black 
woman has a greater chance than her 
white counterpart of attending the fu- 
neral of one of her children. Even with a 
high birth rate among teenagers, the 
black population is not growing as a 
proportion of the U.S. population as a 
whole. 

"Stop crying, my child" is the mean- 
ing of my son's name in Ndebele. "Stop 
crying, my child. Stop crying." 

A memory from college is of a 
young black boy in a Project Headstart 
class where 1 volunteered. He was shy 

continued on page 55 



56 / MARCH 1990 



Guest Speaker 
McGeorge BiHMly 






Howard Sweover 



Ttem O le of OH 



e Atlantic to the Urals 



■\*-* •#• 



V 



PotridaHerfihy 



-.XT^'' 




V. ^ 



1 



ChariMltou 



3ffie*aGfc to ' 
Brown for a horizon-stretching four days to focus on the two Europes 
that history has caught up with and perestroika has taken by surprise! 
Come back to College Hill for a think-tank seminar on the startling, 

U almost round-the-clock changes in Europe's thought and behavior 
patterns in the late Eighties alone. WTiat's in, who's out, where's all 
this change taking us? Get a look-back, look-ahead briefing. The 
place is College Hill. The dates are June 11-26, '90. The agenda is earth- 
shattering and the faculty top notch. Our guest speaker is McGeorge Bundy. ' 
He will )oin Brown faculty that include: Howard Swearer, Mark Garrison, 
Tom Gleason, Patricia Herlihy, Terry Hopmann, Jim Head, Tom Anton and 
Charles Neu. 

Ybwr Imh« wWba ItadHMto Hovae, the stunning and spacious Tudor man- 
sion on Prospect Street built in 1929 for Ellen Dexter Sharpe. There'll be 
time out for play (squash, tennis, swinrming, volleyball), time for socializing 
and, above all, the free time for talking with colleagues, faculty and guest 
speakers. And there will be two afternoon workshop options - one for 
history buffs and one that focuses on European investment. 

»uiiMuqr CoBag* reetitroHoii l» •asy. Complete the registration form and 
return it with your deposit check, soon! Registrations are accepted on a 
first-come, first-serve basis."' You could even confirm your registration today 
by telephone with your Mastercard/ vis a. Call 401 86vi474, 8:30 am- 
4:30 PM EST. 

«e»kl*iittulH««of $650 ($1,150 couples) includes access to four full 
days of lectures, including evening presentations. Meals include: opening 
banquet, daily breakfast (Sunday brunch), buffet lunches, and daily 
dinner. Room charge includes daily light maid service and Imcns. Singh- 
room supplement Is also available at $100. 



';\j 

^ ".^-M 



Mark Garrison 




Terry HepmanM 




JimH 




At press tunc, space was very liniiteil. 






fom JuifoB 





oooJks neTer 



Close omi a J 





#bur stu JUjjIilS^e'n'ence her&leads to "^ 
a lifetime of learning. You /an celebratet 
that experience by endowilig a boo*' 
fund in your graduate's nam 

Every book that the Brown Library 
purchases through the support of your 
endowed fund will bear a booi<plate 
honoring your son or daughter. And 
every book will enhance the Brown "" 
experience for generations to come. < 

A Brown education lasts a lifetime. '** ■ 
An endowed book fund will last forever. 



Rosette Garabedian, Director 

Parents Program 

Brown University /Box 1893 

Providence, RI 02912 

or call this toll-free number: 

1-800-662-2266 Ext. 2127