THE UNIVERSITY OFCHICAGO 9 EECOEDApril 14, 1974 An Official Publication Volume VIII, Number 2CONTENTS43 REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON PHILANTHROPY AND THEUNIVERSITY63 CHANGES IN EXPENDITURES FOR SALARIES AND WAGES BYCATEGORIES65 - VISITING COMMITTEES71 MEMORIAL TRIBUTE: GERARD P. KUIPER72 MEMORIAL TRIBUTE: LEO STRAUSS74 REPORT OF THE STUDENT OMBUDSMAN FOR THE WINTERQUARTER, 197376 REPORT OF THE STUDENT OMBUDSMAN FOR THE SPRING ANDSUMMER QUARTERS, 197380 REPORT OF THE STUDENT OMBUDSMAN FOR THE AUTUMNQUARTER, 197382 DISCIPLINARY REVIEW BOARDTHE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGOFOUNDED BY JOHN D. ROCKEFELLER© Copyright 1 974 by The University of Chicago. All rights reserved.THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO RECORDREPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ONPHILANTHROPY AND THE UNIVERSITYNo man can come to the presidency of The Universityof Chicago without being awed by the University andits past. From the moment of its founding it took itsplace among the notable institutions of the earth.Through four administrations it has held its course,striving to attain the ideas established at the beginning and coming closer toward its goal each year. . . .The guaranty of its future is the devotion and abilityof these men and women, who have set their markupon the University, so that whatever changes in organization may come, its spirit will be the same. Thatspirit has been characterized by emphasis on productive scholarship, by emphasis on men before everything else, on work with and for Chicago, and on anexperimental attitude. And these four characteristicswill, I think, be the insignia of the University's spiritto the end.Robert Maynard Hutchins,Inaugural Address, November 19, 1929IntroductionIn appointing a faculty committee to write an essayon the problem of Philanthropy and The Universityof Chicago, President Levi pointed out that "Philanthropy made the University possible; it created it,and it has to a large extent sustained it." He asked theCommittee to think about the question whether inview of the changing character of both universitiesand institutionalized philanthropy, the Universitycan still rely on philanthropy consistently with itsstrength and mission.The Committee agrees with President Levi aboutthe importance of the question, particularly duringthe present period when increasing costs and decreasing sources of funds have created a financialcrisis for both public and private colleges and uni versities. The financial crisis is severe enough to haveclosed some colleges and universities and to havecompelled many others to adopt desperate measuresof retrenchment — to eliminate programs and departments that are not self-supporting, to freeze orreduce faculty appointments, to decrease tenurecontracts, to increase class size and teaching loads, toreduce library services and maintenance, and toincrease tuition.An analysis of the magnitude of the financial problem for private universities and some suggestions forcoping with it will be found in the essays of the Committee on Private Universities and Private Giving[Record, Volume VII, Number 5, April 21, 1973] andthe Committee on Tuition [Record, Volume VII,Number 4, April 3, 1973]. We shall not repeat thatanalysis in the present essay. The conclusion, however, of the essay on Private Universities and PrivateGiving concisely describes the present situation andestimates the magnitude of the problem for theimmediate future:In a "typical" major private university for the decade ending 1975-76, costs are likely to increase atan average annual rate of 11 percent per year; income at a rate between 5.8 percent and 7.6 percent[Bowen, 1969, p. 439]. The result will be a cumulative deficit of between $20 and $28 million [Bowen,1969, p. 438]. If these projections are reasonablyaccurate, the "typical" private university will haveto adjust by consuming its capital, reducing thequality of its teaching and research, or restrictingthe range of its activities. The alternative is a largeincrease in private giving.Confronted with the present financial problems ofprivate universities, one is strongly tempted to lookback to the post-Civil War period as a golden age forthe private university and of philanthropy. The43founding in this period of The University of Chicagoand of other major private institutions of higherlearning and research with the help of substantialgifts by Rockefeller, Carnegie, Hopkins, Stanford,and other philanthropists seems in this hindsight tohave been the almost inevitable outcome of an unusual set of favorable circumstances.For The University of Chicago these circumstancesincluded a single donor of great wealth, generosity,and acumen; and the business leaders of a growingurban community concerned to demonstrate theirattachment to higher cultural values, and to strongreligious convictions about the importance of giving.A first president who combined strategy with sincerity and scholarship must also be counted amongthese favorable circumstances, as well as those Baptist denominational leaders such as Gates and Good-speed who shared with President Harper the vision ofcreating a great institution for higher learning in theMidwest.That The University of Chicago stood alone on theMidway for a time as a prestigious, wealthy, andinfluential institution, whose sudden prominenceseemed to catch and reflect Chicago's late nineteenth-century surge, made it appealing for donors tovisit and to endow the brilliant fledgling with newbuildings and new chairs. It became, along with theArt Institute, the Field Museum, and Jackson Park, asymbol of Chicago's permanent cultural legacy fromthe World's Columbian Exposition of 1893.In this nostalgic perspective the present financialsituation of the private universities looks greatlychanged indeed: private wealth is subject to relativelyhigh and progressive income, estate, and gift taxes;the allowable income tax charitable deduction, whichclimbed from 15 percent in 1917 to 50 percent in1969, is coming under increasing challenge as analleged inequitable loophole for the wealthy and as aprivate preemption of public authority to allocate taxrevenues; the unlimited charitable deduction underthe estate tax, which has been in the law since 1918, isbeing questioned on like grounds; private foundations and other philanthropic organizations have, inthe past two decades, come under increasing Congressional scrutiny and restriction with respect totheir financial practices and their exploitation for taxbenefits. These legal openings have been severelyrestricted under the Tax Reform Act of 1969, oneeffect of which has apparently been to slow up thecreation of new foundations as well as additionalphilanthropic contributions to the old.The dramatic increase of government grants andcontracts for higher education and research afterWorld War II, up to 50 percent of the total income forsome major private universities, encouraged thebelief that government could replace private phi lanthropy as a source of income for the private university. The equally dramatic cutbacks in government grants and contracts of the early 1970s haveshown the illusory nature of this belief. The growingtendency, moreover, for government agencies andlegislative bodies to allocate government funds inaccordance with geographical distribution and othernonacademic criteria, rather than according to thecompetence and achievements of faculty and students, exposes the private universities and collegeswho take the government funds to a double jeopardy— the risk of losing the independence necessary forfreedom of inquiry and for maintaining the higheststandards of academic excellence, and the risk ofhaving such funds cut off with every change in thepolitical climate and in the fiscal policies of government.These present trends are not likely to be reversed inthe near future for they are supported by and reflect adisenchantment with the promises and values of universal literacy and higher education. The Jencks' andother studies document the existence of such disenchantment; whether they also justify it is arguable,since they tend to compare the problems and difficulties in the current situation (described and analyzedin great statistical detail) with hypothetical andsomewhat Utopian alternatives. They cannot in thenature of the case compare the problems we face withthose we know not of in the undiscovered countryahead. Analogous difficulties underlie any comparison of the Golden Age of philanthropy with the present situation. Such contrasts are apt to be overdrawnif, as usually happens, they compare the visions andaccomplishments of the past with the problems andfailures of the present.Some circumstances, no doubt, did exist in the latenineteenth century favorable for the formation ofseveral major private universities. Even a cursoryreading of Harper's and Goodspeed's correspondence with Gates and Rockefeller and other donors,however, should convince us that the existence ofsuch circumstances by no means assured the founding of The University of Chicago. Mr. Rockefellerneeded a lot of persuading to endow a university inthe Midwest and so did the early local donors. Everystep of the process was beset with many difficultiesand uncertainties, from Rockefeller's first pledge of$600,000 if $400,000 could be raised from localdonors, to the problem of making up a large operating deficit in the very first year. In thinking about theproblems which confront the private university today, it is well to remember that a good deal of theglow reflected by the University's "golden age"comes from the imaginative vision, ingenuity, andabiding confidence with which the founding fathersattacked yesterday's problems.44The Religious FactorThe religious factor no doubt was significant in thefounding of The University of Chicago. Rockefeller,Gates, Goodspeed, and Harper were all Baptists andlooked upon the founding of a great university in theMiddle West as both a need and a duty of theirdenomination. Rockefeller's philosophy and practiceof giving was shaped by his religious upbringing inthe Protestant ethic; God had given him his money,he said, and it was his duty as a faithful trustee of theLord to spend it wisely. This was no convenient andad hoc rationalization of his good fortune; rather hiswealth provided him the opportunity to act accordingto the same deeply held religious convictions thatprompted him to set aside a percentage of his firstsalary for charity. With greater resources he was ableto perform his religious duty on a larger scale,although to do so required greater study of the manyrequests for help and a systematic organization toallocate his funds to charitable purposes.Rockefeller's piety may have been untypical of thephilanthropists of the Gilded Age. Not many of themwould have written as he did in his 1892 letter givingThe University of Chicago bonds of the par value of$1 million that they were making the gift "as aspecial thank-offering to Almighty God for returninghealth." Carnegie's "Gospel of Wealth" was a moresecular gospel, oV'richesse oblige"; and the motivations of others were probably as mixed as those thehistorian of American philanthropy, Bremner, findsamong pre-Civil War philanthropists who gave "outof a feeling of religious duty, because they frankly enjoyed giving, because some appeal touched theirhearts, and because, as they frequently said, theythought giving for certain purposes was a good investment" (Bremner, p. 45).Many of the philanthropists in Chicago and supporters of the University particularly, came from NewEngland, suggesting the survival of a sense of religious obligation, which had provided the support forcolonial institutions of learning, alms houses,libraries, hospitals, etc. What developed in the latenineteenth century was not a distinctively Midwestern phenomenon therefore, but a product of theseolder norms which treated private wealth as a publictrust, meant to be expended for the glory of God andthe welfare of the community. One of the ideologicalachievements of the post-Revolutionary era inAmerica was to channel this religious motivation intoa republican vocabulary, to harness the religiousenergies of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuriesto newer political and social goals.With Protestant philanthropy so conspicuous,questions can be raised concerning Catholic andJewish support to higher education. Justification forJewish philanthropy was similar to the Protestant vocabulary, the performing of deeds of charity with areligious end in mind. Jewish giving is complicated byour absence of information concerning Jewish givingin Europe (before the 1930s), and whether these patterns revealed a pattern different from Jewish givingin America. Catholic giving was also complicated bythe fact that so much was given directly to the Churchand then dispersed to various institutions, includingeducational ones, thus making the philanthropists'special interests less clear (Ross, 1968).From the perspective of the 1970s, what is surprising is not Rockefeller's religious convictions and hisBaptist loyalties but the largely non-sectarian andsecular character of the design for the University'sorganization and curriculum which he endowed. Forwhile the University was created under the auspicesof the American Baptist Education Society and included the Baptist Theological Union, no religioustest was to be required for faculty, students, ordonors. Only the President and two-thirds of theBoard of Trustees were required to be members ofregular Baptist churches, and this requirement wasremoved in the 1920s. The Reverend Fred T. Gates,Secretary of the American Baptist Education Societyand Rockefeller's personal adviser, explained to hisSociety that the "new" University of Chicago, "beingof a purely literary and scientific character, is notdesigned to be sectarian. We have therefore providedin the articles of incorporation that no religious testsshall be required for election to any professorship orother place of honor or emolument" (A HistoricalSketch, p. 9).The articles of incorporation also provided that"the privileges of the institution be extended to persons of both sexes on equal terms."The religious factor was indeed a favorablecircumstance in the founding of the University butwas intimately tied to a non-sectarian conception of aUniversity. The financial failure in 1886 of the firstUniversity of Chicago (which was a Baptist institution) convinced Harper, Goodspeed, Gates, and agroup of Baptist Ministers in Chicago that a newUniversity, in a new location, under new management, and on a broader foundation than a theologicalseminary, was needed. They persuaded Rockefellerand local donors, many of whom were not Baptists,that a great seat of learning should be created in theMidwest. The fact that Harper was a Northern Baptist (free church, loose polity, non-creedal denomination) whose scholarship was within the tradition ofcritical, non-fundamentalist, textual Biblical studies,made a broad non-sectarian University possible. Thefact that he also saw the value of building graduateand professional schools on the foundations of aliberal arts college endowed The University ofChicago with a winning combination from which it45still benefits.To what extent can the University still look to thechurches for support and should it appeal to the denominational loyalties of potential donors? Although giving to religious institutions increasedsubstantially in the 1961-1971 decade from $4.75 to$8.60 billions, and represents more than twice thegifts for health or education, the next largest recipients, the support given by religious institutions forhigher education during this same period hasactually decreased. In 1971 this source accountedfor only 5.6 percent of all gifts to higher education,compared to 13.9 percent from business, 22.5 percent from foundations, 24.6 percent from alumni,26.6 percent from non-alumni, and 6.8 percent fromothers (Council for Financial Aid to Education).The religious denominations are not likely to increase their support to colleges and universities forquite understandable reasons. While hundreds ofcolleges and universities in the United States wereestablished by religious institutions or by personswho were particularly interested in specific denominations, the bonds between colleges and churcheshave altered significantly through the decades.Among various reasons for these alterations hasbeen the over-extension of church involvement inhigher education, relative to the financial resourcesavailable. Church-related colleges and denominations are currently suffering acute financial difficulties, and it is not likely that a secular universitywill receive any consideration for its needs whendenominations see their own institutions injeopardy.The denominations that give the most extensivesupport to higher education in the present decadeare those that have very strong loyalties to particularcreeds, doctrines, or "ways of life." The University'sreligious heritage, a relation to liberal NorthernBaptists, in no sense qualifies it for support givenunder such conditions.If religioius institutions are the major recipientsof private giving in America, the resources of theseinstitutions, however, are allocated according to agreat variety of purposes and needs. Among these,the support of higher education is a matter of lowpriority at all levels of ecclesiastical organization inmost traditions. Thus the total financial resourcesavailable from religious institutions are themselvesvery small, and the University has no claim on thosethat exist.The decline of organized denominational supportfor higher education does not mean the end of areligious motivation for giving. Some philanthropists donate to secular colleges and universities forreligious reasons; they acknowledge a custodial roleunder God in their sense of obligation to give for the benefit of others. In many religious traditions, a loveof learning and truth adds further religious motivation for giving to colleges and universities. A movingstatement of the religious motivation for philanthropy was made to the Committee by a Universitytrustee:I was telling the group about my grandmother,whom I fortunately knew quite well, since shelived until I was 24 years old. I cannot quote herexactly, but the gist of her remarks was that wewere placed on earth to serve the Lord in any wayHe thought best. He apparently chose the business of . . . as a way to serve, and our family hadfortunately prospered. What we had we shoulduse as best we could in the Lord's work. This wasa deep religious conviction on her part, and hasbeen an important guiding force in my life, as wellas for other members of the family. Stewardshiphas great importance for church and society, andmotivation would seem largely religious eventhough some individuals would not recognize itas such. I know that religious convictions are amotivation for philanthropy since I have observedit in others, and only wish it were morewidespread.For some philanthropists, denominational affiliation and loyalty determine to some extent whichcolleges and universities are the recipients of theirgifts. Most of such gifts are given directly to thecolleges, and not through denominational agencies.While The University of Chicago will continue tobenefit from the existence of religious motivationsfor philanthropic giving, it does not make appeals toparticular denominational loyalties as some otherinstitutions do. Even the Divinity School, which retains the most explicit ties to the Baptist heritage ofthis University, is basically non-denominational.Through the establishment of academic programswhich focus scholarly study on religious and culturaltraditions represented by different denominationsand ethnic groups, this non-denominational approach to religion has been continued. The University's extraordinarily rich resources in the comparative history of religions and in non- western civilizations make this a feasible as well as a desirabledirection of development, one which is entirely consistent with President Harper's personal enthusiasmfor making "Oriental Studies" — in his day chieflythe languages and civilizations of the Bible and ofthe Bible lands — an important department in thenew University. The three inscriptions on the cornerstone of Haskell, originally the Haskell OrientalMuseum, still bear witness to that enthusiasm: inGreek, "He was the true light, that, coming into theworld, enlightened every man"; in Latin, "Light outof the East"; and in Hebrew, "The entrance of thy46words giveth light" (Goodspeed's translations,History, p. 298). The Haskell and Barrows lectureson comparative religions were also established tocontinue the East- West dialogue begun at the 1893Congress of World Religions which brought SwamiVivekananda to Chicago. By establishing programsthat sustain and enlarge this dialogue, the University not only contributes to a better internationalunderstanding, but also honors the cultural achievements of diverse national, ethnic, and religiousgroups, many of whom have settled in Chicago andin the United States.Culture, Philanthropy, and the Higher LearningPopulist suspicions of the rich and of their philanthropic support for colleges and universities andother cultural institutions did not originate withFerdinand Lundberg, Waldemar Nielsen, or Christopher Jencks. They grew with the late nineteenth-century growth in Tocqueville's "Aristocracy ofManufacturers" and the cultural criticism it generated. Mark Twain on the Gilded Age at home andon Innocents Abroad expressed one side of America's deeply ingrained ambivalence to "High Culture," Henry James on the American Scene and theAmbassadors the other. Turn-of-the-century Chicago and its neo-Gothic quadrangles were themselves a major source and target for populistcriticism in Norris's and Dreiser's novels, Mr.Dooley's observations on Art Patronage and theCarnegie Libraries, Thorstein Veblen's Theory ofthe Leisure Class and the Higher Learning in America, and John Dewey's School and Society, amongother writings of the period.These populist sentiments, to be sure, go back todeeper sources in American experience and thought,to the contrasts between a frontier- practical-democratic- manly work ethic, on the one hand, andan old-world-artificial-elitist-effete culture on theother. That such contrasts cannot always be reliedupon to yield unequivocal guides for philanthropicpolicy is suggested by the early Puritan love of literature and learning, and by the fact that some contemporary exponents of the work-ethic have supported substantial increases for the NationalEndowment for the Arts while advocating slashingfunds for libraries, schools, colleges, and universities.The popular American ambivalence toward highculture and the higher learning was as characteristicof Chicago as of other American cities. Recollectinghis adolescent years on Chicago's West Side, SaulBellow vividly describes the two faces of this ambivalence.1 In spite of the boorish anti-intellectual-1. "Chicago and American Culture: One Writer's View." ism that was powerful in those days, the 1920s, heremembers thatthe prestige of culture was high in certain quarters — higher I am sure in the slums of the WestSide than on the Gold Coast. The rich occasionally gave money to orchestras, and museums,some of them supported Harriet Monroe but theywere not on the whole princely patrons of literature. No, it was not the pork, tractor or bankingtycoon, to whom music and poetry meant an evening in soup and fish or a set of leather-boundand ornamental classics in the den, it was theWest Side immigrant who respected culture.In Chicago it was the immigrants I say, a relatively small number of furriners and their children in the slums to whom culture mattered in myday, who revered it as they did the creed of equaljustice under law and other famous Americanideals.But even the immigrant and the lover of culturefound himself in two different worlds — the world ofculture and the "real" world of business andpolitics.With us there has always been a wild discrepancybetween the thing of the book and that of thestreet, between the poem and the poolroom, between the plaster bust of Pericles gathering lovelydust in the Assembly Hall and the real nose andcheeks of Big Bill under his campaign hat. Therewere always two sets of facts, two languages, twocodes — there was the beau ideal and there was thehustle, there were sacred teachings and there weresecular deeds. These differences bred skepticismand antagonism. Culture like religion insisted onbeing respected, and encountered similar sub-versiveness and opposition. An enforced respectbrought out the worst in everyone. The first, thegreat and triumphant reality of American societywas and is the public one, the industrial, capitalistic, political, democratic noisy hustling realreality. Culture was for women and children. Tomeat packers and railroad barons, to the Emperors of merchandising and the Popes of LaSalle Street, poetry, painting, music and philosophy were feminine interests. Culture was whatkept the wives of these empire builders suitablyoccupied. Maggie's efforts to refine Jiggs by dragging him to recitals, bopping him with a rolling-pin when he tried to steal away to Dinty Moore'ssaloon, tickled the great public for many years.Bellow does not find this attitude to culturegreatly changed even today whenthe old populistic philistine defiance of high culture has crumbled and more deft and image-conscious political and business leaders are ob-47liged to come out publicly for art, for beauty andthe "quality of life." Their impulse still is to turnsuch things over to ladies from the society pages,. . . It is felt that culture is not something strongbut something weak, not a male-power whichtakes the initiative but a lady-power which givesground. This suspicion of weakness I think accounts for the anti-intellectualism of so manyintellectuals, their primitivism, their heedlessredskin wildness, their extremism.Chicago became a regional capital in those rough-and-tumble days after the Great Fire, attracting thetalented youngbecause of its innovations in industrial methodand in architecture, because of its mixture of brutal wickedness and revolutionary newness, theblood of the Yards, the showpiece gems of thelakefront, the seething of its immigrant slums,because of its violence, corruption and its creativeenergy. . . . The young Sister Carries who camehere to work in factories, to become kept womenand later stars, the Yerkes-Cowperwoods who arrived to build transportation empires were not deluded by fantasies of glamor and power. Glamorand power, as well as misery and death were certainly here. The young novelists and would-benovelists working on the papers were charged witha sense of the place. Coming from bleak villages,from the sticks, they were overcome by the colorand power of Chicago.Chicago, however, lost out to New York as a literary and cultural center and the Midwest began toexport writers and artists to the east and west. AsBellow sees it, the exiles abandoned the city to anelitewhich gave tax deductible dollars to institutionsbut which did not read books, and whose sons anddaughters brought from the East a Yale or Rad-cliffe manner to their banks and country clubs.The Chicago rich were not Renaissance Florentines or Elizabethan princes.Bellow finds some consolations in Chicago's provincial backwardness — "it is not altogether a curse.We gain also from our backwardness" by beingmore protected from the "noisy philistinism" of thenew intellectual class that has succeeded "the silentphilistinism of the meat packers and money men."The problem for American culture remains thesame: "the wild discrepancy between book andstreet, between poem and poolroom — the two languages, the two codes, the ideal and the hustle."In the meantimeHere in Chicago we should make the most of our backwardness. Not to be with it is an advantagewhen it is mad. To stand aside from the new mental noise as well as from the old boorishness is thefirst necessity. The next is to understand that it isa life without art or intelligence that is unnatural,and not the reverse. To make some human senseof our human condition is still as much the realbusiness of the people who live here as it was in1924 when I got my card at the Library's Humboldt Park branch.In the Committee's discussion of Bellow's Humboldt Library speech, Neil Harris, a historian ofurban culture in the United States, commented thatwhile the Chicago rich of the 1890s or even of the1920s may not have been Renaissance Florentines orElizabethan princes,those involved in founding Chicago's museums,symphony, university, were frequently men ofhigh competence and considerable special interestin the institutions they were helping to establish.Their wealth, which was of unprecedented scalefor private citizens, permitted a lavishness thatwould have been unimaginable a generationbefore, at the time of the Civil War. In the case ofmuseums or musical organizations, many of theearly philanthropists were men with interest in industrial design, some degree of connoisseurship,or some musical or artistic training. This is not todeny that Veblen's categories have relevance; aheavy emphasis on display, the cultivation of conspicuous honor through cultural association, athirst for physical opulence, all animated many ofthe late nineteenth-century philanthropists. Butto reduce their motives to these categories wouldbe an oversimplification.Another point of interest might be to note howboosterism, interest in and loyalty to the specificcommunity, helped leaven older suspicionstoward cultural and artistic achievement. Although many Chicagoans, for instance, may havehad little feeling for or active hostility toward highculture and the higher learning, the sense of competition with cities of the East and of Europe,counterbalanced suspicions. In the race for primacy the act of winning was more important thanthe specific prize, and baseball teams, museums,universities, zoos, symphonies were, to some kindsof thinking, then and today, interchangeable.Anything that would benefit the city and thearea deserved support, however out of sympathywith the institution's aims or organization thepatron was.The early inclusion of the University withinChicago's cultural landscape along with museums,the Art Institute, the Symphony Orchestra, encouraged local community pride and support, especiallyfor the University's contributions in the fields of48music, art, architecture, and archeological exploration. At the same time, this inclusion placed theUniversity in competition with other local culturaland educational institutions, all of which have appealing and necessary tasks to perform, and all ofwhich rely on the same group of people for leadership and generosity. Indeed, with the pressures onthe local elite becoming so heavy, it might makesense to seek support from those in other cities — asthe membership of the Board of Trustees indicatesthey have already done. The disadvantage of distance may be counteracted by the advantage ofnovelty. If living in Dallas or San Francisco orAtlanta gives the potential donor less immediateacquaintance, at least he is not under pressure fromcompeting Chicago institutions.This raises still another question about needs. It isclear that it is easier to raise funds for new buildingsand for renovating old buildings than for maintenance. Monies are desperately needed, however, forordinary operations, like maintenance, both of thebuildings and grounds, and of the various collections, libraries, and laboratories. To raise monieswhich are swallowed up in daily budgeting needs isless glamorous than raising them for purposes ofconstructing great buildings. The need is more abstract, more mundane, and unfortunately, more intense. Plumbing doesn't get people too excited, andyet endowments for maintenance are particularlynecessary at present.Still another difference from the "heroic" era ofgiving concerns the University's location. For a time,when in the early fifties the decline of the immediateneighborhood was perceived acutely, the excitementof waging the urban renewal battle provided a causefor marshalling support. Government funds, andthe stakes of the battle, added to the atmosphere,and by the early or mid-sixties there was a sense ofreal accomplishment. What we now realize, however, is that the maintenance of stability will requireconsiderable expenditure (for example, in the areaof security forces) for a long time to come, that theinitial excitement has passed, and that there arepeople in the city and suburbs for whom Hyde Parkand the University are distant and alien, because oftheir location. This must reduce the amount of contact between the institution and sources of financial,social, or political support. Changing residence patterns of the middle and upper middle classes haveadded to this distance, and reduced the University'seffectiveness as a representative Chicago institution.While the location of the University in Hyde Parknow makes community identification more difficultthan it used to be, Harris notes that there are alsoopportunities for new forms of integration with thecity and the wider community: The physical and architectural qualities of HydePark have never been analyzed or publicized in away that highlights their properties to the largercity. With the concentration of high-rise buildingthat has gone on in the last two decades in theLincoln Park and Gold Coast areas, along withthe total destruction of the residential community along Prairie Avenue in this century,Hyde Park stands as an extraordinarily interesting collection of houses and apartment buildings,preserving environmental features and attitudestoward design and construction that can be foundin few other places in Chicago. A university-sponsored or supported, or a foundation-supported investigation (under University aegis) ofthe architectural and planning history of HydePark would be one of the many possible ways ofrenewing certain interest in the area in portions ofthe city or the suburbs that tend to write it off.Much of the literature about Hyde Park is soobviously self-serving, and redundant, that itturns off outsiders. More dispassionate andscholarly work, along with the creation of a coupleof important services — like, for example, the bestbook store in the city (which would not be toodifficult to create, given the competition) or theprovision of quarters for artists to work in, wouldhave far-reaching implications. Most of the timethe University's relationship to its immediate environment is discussed in terms of security, orfaculty and student attractiveness. However,actions which increase the area's intellectual andphysical importance within the city, also affect itsability to maintain outside, personal interest. Inthis connection also, the use of facilities like theRegenstein Library for lectures or seminars orexhibitions that would draw visitors to the University, would also be strengthening.Finally, the ability of the University and the surrounding communities to maintain a culturallyactive, attractive, multi-racial community in HydePark, forms a subject of consuming interest to students of the development of the American city.While recognizing that there have been failuresand that there are limitations on certain goals, thesuccesses gained so far, and the presence of newplans, make the University's community an unusual chapter in American urban history. Theviability of neighborhood urban life, not confinedto a small, expensive, and exclusive downtown sector, gives the Hyde Park experience a characterthat should continue to interest friends andalumni of the University, and this aspect shouldcontinue to receive attention.To the extent that a university communitysucceeds in becoming a cultural center for a city, aregion, or the entire country, it also attracts artists49and writers to its campus and neighborhood. Inproviding an institutionalized home for artists andwriters, a university assumes a new role as intermediary between them and the traditional patronsof arts and letters. As Saul Bellow pointed out in ourdiscussions, a university's role as a custodian of culture calls for a flexible and imaginative policytoward the recruitment and care of artists andwriters:The university has in its own way become a patronof the arts. Since World War II it has brought tothe campus many poets, painters, sculptors,musicians and novelists who were only too pleasedto accept institutional support and become teachers. To lead an independent life had become toodifficult and once the universities had begun toadd artists to their faculties, the difficulties of anindependent career grew even greater. Advertising and television from one side and the universities from the other drew in writers and composers. As a result extra-institutional culture hasalmost disappeared from the United States. Artnever received any great amount of philanthropicsupport in this country. The rich were not on thewhole connoisseurs or amateurs of poetry andpainting. Had future philanthropists as studentsbeen properly educated they might themselves become patrons of the arts. Their education did not,however, have this effect. The university has, tosome extent, acted as an intermediary and hasshared the gifts of philanthropy with artists. Forthe latter the situation has not been an entirelyhappy one. Musicians, painters and dancersthrive as teachers but novelists and poets need awider contact with the life of society than theresponsibilities of teaching generally permit. Becoming, as university professors, part of an intellectual community, they lose touch with a widerpublic. The situation is most complicated. Ideallythe university should mediate between philanthropy and the rare bird, the maverick, be henovelist, economist, or physicist. The universitywould itself benefit greatly by this. Since circumstances have made it the chief custodian of culture in American society it must try to interpret itsresponsibilities with subtlety and avoid institutional rigidity, remembering that there are men oftalent who do not thrive in regular teaching positions and who are hampered by departmentalduties.Harper's LegacyIf the "Golden Age" of philanthropy and the privateuniversity at the end of the nineteenth century wasnot without its leaden lining, it did work an important transformation in the scale of giving for higher education as well as for other purposes. Rockefeller's initial gift to the University of $600,000 oncondition that it be matched by $400,000 in localgifts may not seem very large by comparison withcontemporary fund drives for $250 million. Yetcompared with John Harvard's 1638 bequest of£780 and 260 books to Harvard and Elihu Yale's1718 gift to Yale of a cargo of books and East Indiagoods which were sold in Boston for £562. 12s,Rockefeller's gift represents a new order of magnitude in educational philanthropy, especially so if thecumulative total of his gifts to the University by1916, approximately $35 million, is taken intoaccount. The dramatically increased scale of givingat the end of the nineteenth century reflected notonly a sudden increase in generosity but also therapid accumulation of private fortunes in the post-Civil War development of iron and steel, oil, railroads, and of high finance. John Harvard's bequestof £780 represented half of his estate, and accordingto John Flynn, Rockefeller also gave away approximately half of his fortune, which was estimated atone billion dollars.The availability of great private fortunes for philanthropy transformed the character of philanthropy and of its objects. As Rockefeller, Carnegie,and the other wealthy men perceived, philanthropywould have to change from retail to wholesale, frompersonal, sentimental, and impulsive responses toindividual appeals for help, to systematic and long-range plans for benefiting mankind, based on careful investigation, and administered by professionalstaffs. When Carnegie gave his hometown, Dunfermline, Scotland, a park, he wrote in the first draftof the deed that he had selected the place "from nopartiality to my native town" but that his selectionwas part of a scientific experiment in which hewould select a town of equal size in the UnitedStates on which he would also bestow "sweetnessand light." The preamble to the deed (1903) statedthat the gift was "in pursuance of a duty" which hehad long felt and had tried to discharge — "to distribute in my lifetime the surplus wealth which Ipossess in such a manner as shall best advance thewell-being and happiness of the greatest number ofbeneficiaries." This is of course Carnegie's famous"gospel of wealth" philosophy which he had originally published in 1889 in the North AmericanReview. In that article he prophesied thatthe day is not far distant when the man who diesleaving behind him millions of available wealth,which was free to him to administer during life,will pass away "unwept, unhonored, and unsung," no matter to what uses he leaves the drosswhich he cannot take with him. Of such as these50the public verdict will then be: "The man whodies thus rich dies disgraced" (The Gospel ofWealth, pp. 28-29).Rockefeller's adviser on philanthropy, Fred T.Gates, must have shared Carnegie's philosophy, forhe used to tell Rockefeller:Your fortune is rolling up, rolling up like an avalanche! You must keep up with it! You must distribute it faster than it grows! If you do not, it willcrush you, and your children, and your children'schildren! (Nevins, p. 217).Private colleges and universities were not by theend of the nineteenth century so large or expandingso rapidly as to absorb the large-scale munificenceof the new "scientific" philanthropy. Their needs,however, were relative to the ambitions and visionsof their leaders. President Harper said that the firststep will have been taken when the University had$50 million. And George Vincent doubted whether"even the Rockefeller fortune could have survived"if Rockefeller had given Harper money freely. As itwas, expenditures for the University exceeded itsincome for almost as many years of Harper's presidency as the reverse. In 1905, when Rockefellerrefused to make any more contributions unless thebudget was balanced, Harper balanced it, reporteda surplus of $26 and died the same year.What made Harper's plans so costly was theirbold, comprehensive, and uncompromising character. He had told Rockefeller that his plan for theUniversity was "very simple, but thorough-going"and that it would "revolutionize university study inthis country." Rockefeller advised a more cautiousbeginning, and his first pledge of $600,000 was for asmall college. Harper accepted the presidency of thenew institution only after Rockefeller, the BaptistEducation Society, and the Board of Trusteesagreed that "a good college located in this citywould naturally and inevitably develop into a greatuniversity," and included in the University's articlesof incorporation of 1890 the provision "to establishand maintain a university in which may be taught allbranches of higher learning."The inevitable arrived sooner than Harper himselfexpected. In his first statement on the condition ofthe University, presented on the occasion of the firstquarterly convocation, just one quarter after theUniversity opened on October 1, 1892, he recited theprogress that had been made since January 1892,when "the grounds were a desolation and a wasteand the proposition to make them ready by Octoberfirst was by many thought impracticable." In thatfirst year eight buildings were completed or nearcompletion, including dormitories for men and women, laboratories for chemistry, physics, andbiology, the Walker Museum, Cobb Hall, and theCommons. Ninety faculty at or above the rank of instructor and 87 assistants and fellows below thatrank had accepted positions at the University, coming from almost every important college in thecountry and from many foreign universities. Anadditional 14 regular instructors were engaged inUniversity Extension work assisted by 42 representing the University departments. The total enrollment of students by the end of that first quarter was594, of whom 166 were pursuing advanced degreesin the graduate school, 182 were in the DivinitySchool, and 272 were doing undergraduate work.About one- half of the students had already receivedthe Bachelor's degree and had come from 90 institutions, 33 states, and 13 foreign countries. Of thetotal enrollment, 23.5 percent were women.As he looked upon the situation, President Harper saw that "a beginning had been made, but onlya beginning." The trustees in his audience and thosewho had read his first Bulletin describing how thework of the University was to be organized no doubtappreciated that he was not indulging in modestunderstatement, but was simply measuring theaccomplishments of the first year against his"simple and thorough-going plan" that called foracademies and laboratory schools, colleges of liberalarts, science, literature and language, practical arts;and in addition to a graduate school for nonprofessional graduate work and a Divinity School, forprofessional schools in law, medicine, engineering,pedagogy, fine art, and music — to be established"as soon as the funds of the University permit." Theplan also provided for University Extension coursesin and about the City of Chicago "for men andwomen whose daily occupation will not permit themto take advantage of the regular college and university courses," and correspondence courses for students in all parts of the country "whose circumstancedo not permit them to reside at an institution oflearning during all the year," as well as specialcourses in a scientific study of the Bible in its original languages and its translations, and library extension.The printing and publishing of official documents, papers, journals, reviews, books prepared oredited by University instructors and the purchaseand sale of books for students, professors, and theUniversity library was an integral part of Harper'splan.In the retrospective view of 1974, it is astonishinghow much of his original plan Harper was able torealize in those 13 years of his presidency and howmuch his success depended on the continuing support of Rockefeller and a small group of local51philanthropists. Equally astonishing in this perspective is the extent to which Harper's basic plan for thestructure and organization of the University and itswork has remained viable. There is no school ofengineering, to be sure, and no provision for "a yearor two-year vacation for instructors at regularperiods with full salary"; tuition is no longer $25 aquarter, but most of the provisions of Harper'sBulletin No. 1 are now taken for granted.Some New Problems and OpportunitiesHarper's original plan has given the University astructure and an organization that has persisted andworked successfully for over 80 years. No doubtHarper's deep insight into the educational needs ofhis day, combined with his tremendous energy andpersuasiveness, account in part for the success of hiswinning combination — an institution dedicated toadvanced research and scholarship combined withliberal arts colleges, professional schools, and extension. The confirmed appeal of this kind of auniversity to faculty, students, administrators, anddonors has also contributed to its persistence andviability. Yet while many features of Harper's original plan for the University are still alive and well in1974, there have been many changes. These changesin the main have not been changes in the underlyingstructure and organization of the University, or evenin its basic purposes, but rather changes in size,scale, and complexity. Both new problems and newopportunities have appeared with these changes.In its discussions with several trustees, includingthe Chairman of the Board of Trustees, the Committee was surprised to learn that some of the complaints of philanthropists toward universities wereexactly the same as the well known complaints ofstudents and faculties — that universities had growntoo big and bureaucratic, that there was too muchconcern about large buildings and giant fund drives,and not enough about human values and the educational process. The philanthropist was beginning tomiss, as was the student and the individual facultymember, the personal relation to the university, andthe opportunities for personal involvement and commitment. Complaints of this kind would seem tohave more justification in some of the very largestate universities than in the medium-sized privateuniversities. Nevertheless, even the medium-sizeduniversity of about 10,000 students represents a verysignificant increase in size and scale since the latenineteenth century. The magnitude of expansioncan be illustrated by comparing The University ofof Chicago's first year of 1892-1893 with 1972-73.The number of students increased from 594 in1892-93 to 7,635 in 1972-73, and regular faculty from 90 to 1,062. Tuition and student fees have increased from about $35 per quarter to $875 and$925 per quarter in 1972-73. Faculty salaries increased from an average of about $2,000 to anaverage of about $23,000. In 1892-93 about$150,000 was required for putting up a new building; in 1972-73 about $2.5 million is needed at aminimum for a new construction or a renovation.Expenditures on buildings and grounds in 1892-93came to $69,000, and in 1972-73 to $8,670,000.Harper thought it would take a capital endowmentof $50 million to put the University on the way torealizing his grand plan. In 1973 the regularacademic annual operations budget comes to approximately that amount, and the consolidatedannual budget to about $180 million. (Sources: TheUniversity of Chicago, Decennial Report, 1902;Financial Report, 1973; The Provost's Report on theUniversity 1973-74 Budget, October 1, 1973.)Now the point of these comparisons is not primarily to show how the University has grown overthe years. Nor do the comparisons tell us why theincreases have taken the forms they have. Beyondthe increase in general price levels, the explanationswould obviously be complex — increase in the westward movement of the population; growing needsfor university-trained people in business, government, and the professions; the high reputation andpolicies of the University, and other factors. Moreimmediately important than such somewhat generalconsiderations is the question of whether and inwhat ways the increased size and scale of universitieshas affected the quality of education and researchand the sources of support. For almost a decadenow, a growingly snident criticism of universitieshas insisted that universities are suffering fromover- expansion, bureaucratic rigidity and impersonality, overdependence on business and thefederal government, unresponsiveness to the needsof students, faculty, and community.The Committee on Philanthropy did not considerthe evaluation of such criticism a part of its charge.The Committee was led, however, to take specialnote of the criticism in its discussions with severalUniversity trustees. According to their testimony,donors, actual and potential, are increasinglydisinclined to give their money to big institutions"chewing up" vast sums of money in buildingprograms and skyrocketing operating costs. Thesedonors, we were told, would prefer to spend theirmoney in ways that provide a greater sense ofpersonal gratification, and a greater opportunity forpersonal involvement and commitment.The University of Chicago is, compared to someof the very large state universities, less vulnerable tothe criticisms of runaway expansion, bureaucracy,52and impersonality. And thanks to Harper's profound concern that individual students be able topursue programs of concentrated study at their ownpace under the guidance of the best availablefaculty, who themselves are engaged in independentand free inquiry in all fields of science and scholarship, there was built into the University's organization from the very beginning a flexibilityand pluralism that has protected it from giantismand bureaucratic rigidity. The fact that after 80years and a twelve-fold increase in the number ofstudents and of faculty, the student-faculty ratio isstill approximately 7 to 1, indicates how deeplyHarper's ideas have been embedded in the structureand organization of the University.Granted the profoundly of Harper's legacy andits continued value to the University, that legacy isnot a substitute for a concerned and imaginativeattack on present problems. The convergence ofcomplaints from some trustees, students, andfaculty must be taken seriously.We are agreed that the University is made up ofmultiple models, including the liberal arts college,the affiliated seminary, the German researchinstitute, the British university as regards thetraining of a democratic elite, and a public serviceinstitution serving a local community. In theUniversity's mystique about itself, there is anunmistakable sense that the real tradition of thisUniversity begins with President Harper; and thishas imparted to the University an unusually strongsense of a "beginning," a sense of "birth" withinrelatively easy reach of historical memory. What thishas also imparted is the understanding thatcontinuity is not inevitable, that institutional life isprecarious, and that new vitality must constantly begenerated from within.There are special historical conditions operatingin the present that create enormous difficulties thatthe University must somehow meet and overcome.One of these has to do with the ethos of the immediate environment. In the 1890s Chicago was a placethat believed in itself as a city of destiny, the futurehope of the nation, an urban cultural center for theworld. The University was begun sharing the generalhope of the city. Although Chicago continues tobelieve in itself, no one can deny that there areproblems of urban decay and environmentaldecline. The University, while seeking to maintainitself as a national and international center forlearning and research, finds itself also in a state ofconstant struggle with the immediate environment.A more diffuse but equally important problemis the changing character of the cultural environment in the United States, and indeed of theworld. There is a return to practicality as legiti mation for the pursuit of knowledge. In a wayreminiscent of the Jacksonian era, practicality isprized over creativity. Among some wealthy businessand professional men and young students, thepursuit of intellectual and academic knowledge isviewed with great skepticism as no longer servingthe needs of society. The private university may wellbe under more serious attack than in any otherprevious period in our recent history and needsvigorous defense. It seems clear that certain parts ofthe University are more adequately equipped torespond and adapt to this environment than othersare. The obvious question that arises is to whatextent adaptation will alter the character of theUniversity as it presently stands; and what will bethe philanthropic cost if adaptation is rejected topreserve the impractical virtues of humanisticknowledge.A related problem facing the University is thatthere seems to be a relative decline in faculty expressiveness toward the intellectual and professionalcommunity outside the University. At certain pointsin the past, it appears, a small but highly visible andarticulate group of individuals in the facultyperformed this important role. Harper himselfperformed this role in the early days, and in the1930s such men as Wirth, MacMillen, Merriam,and others became widely known in the larger community. The size of such a group was never large atany period but apparently it played a role far beyondits small number. There is a possibility of exaggeration as to how important such groups were in thepast, a case of romanticizing former faculty greats.Regardless, there appears to be a felt need for agreater expressive or communicative relationshipbetween the public and ourselves.While the present faculty is not necessarily anyless distinguished than earlier faculty, the growth inuniversity size, the increase in scholarly specialization, and the changes in recruitment patterns foracademic work have necessarily meant a transformation of the relationship between the communityand the faculty itself. Contacts are less apt to occurin the ordinary course of events between faculty andpotential donors; they are more likely to have to bearranged. And this coincides with the growth of theUniversity's Development Office, designed to coordinate the enormously complex tasks of money-raising, and therefore effectively to reduce dependence on individual faculty contacts. Such mediation may indeed be good for the University as awhole, but organizational needs, in addition to thecauses previously mentioned, do in fact spell adifference in the communication between facultymembers and possible sources of support.The issue now confronting the University would53not appear to be its survival so much as how it is tochange, what parts will adapt and what parts willnot, and to what extent philanthropy and active administrative and faculty leadership will be involvedin providing continued vigor to the University as acenter of learning and research of the first order.What needs emphasis is that the University mustresist trends in the general environment and trendswithin its internal organization that distract it fromits mission.There are many indications that the administration and faculty are becoming aware of these problems and are attempting to cope with them in mul-tifaceted ways. Among these approaches arePresident Levi's creation of faculty essay-writingcommittees to think about the problems, the decentralization of the College into five Collegiate Divisions, the formulation of a limited-growth-policy forthe University, the creation of Visiting Committeesof citizens and practitioners of the arts and sciencesfor different divisions and schools, the formation ofa Center for Policy Studies, participation in neighborhood improvement, renewed interest in alumniactivities, an attractive and interesting Bulletin ofCampus cultural events and news.The Philanthropy Committee can only underlinethe importance of these efforts for the creation of apersonalized pluralism in the relationship betweenthe University and the community. Without sacrificing the underlying unity or the standards of scholarship that express the spirit of the University, it maybe possible to adapt peculiarities in our institutionalstructure to minimize the disruptive effects of thelong-run changes on the University.One of the distinguishing marks of The Universityof Chicago has been an ability to tolerate, withinitself, intensive contrasts of style and concentration.On the one hand, the University began as a liberalarts college, then expanded to become a center foradvanced research and scholarship, without regardto immediate practical consequences or applieduses. On the other hand, one of the early dreams ofthe first president was to create an extension division which would reach adults, summer schoolers,and others interested in broad, general education,and to do this partly for civic reasons. Another contrast can be found in special areas of achievement.On the one hand, in the social sciences one of thecreations of the University has been the field ofurban sociology, a symbol of the institution's involvement with the political and social life of thecommunity surrounding it, an acknowledgment thatmundane matters of living conditions, populationdensity and growth, transportation, deviance, are apart of the University's field of research. And on theother hand there has been the remarkable work done in researching the ancient civilizations of theOrient, starting with Harper's enthusiasm for thelanguages and literatures of the Bible and the Biblelands, going on to the Egyptian expeditions ofBreasted's era, the activities of the Oriental Instituteand the Assyrian Dictionary, and expanding inrecent years to include South and Southeast Asianand Far Eastern languages and civilizations.One could go on and locate further strong contrasts. But the point is that there has always been a"bazaar" aspect to the University, or perhaps acollection of exclusive boutiques would be a moreprecise, if equally distasteful way of extending themetaphor. At any rate, what has distinguished theareas of University inclusion has been scholarly importance and competence, not the standing of thesubject on any traditionally ranked hierarchy, or itspractical application. For philanthropic interest,this gives the University an advantage in appealingto a wide variety of motivations and interests. Thereare, associated with us, museums, art galleries,orchestras, operatic and acting societies, socialwork, hospitals, almost every kind of work engrossed by competing institutions. The pluralism ofthe University should be emphasized in approachingpossible donors, but more than that, it may benecessary to decentralize our appeals somewhat, byencouraging individual entities within the largerUniversity community to personalize their contacts.The needs of coordination are great, but so are theneeds of making our own activities more real andimmediate, and this can only be done throughexemplification. Perhaps more faculty membersshould be led to realize that the gains of privatesupport also have costs: the efforts which must bemade continually to ensure that support is forthcoming, efforts which perhaps require greaterfaculty participation.Motivations for GivingWith the expansion of private universities in size,scale, and operating budgets, has come the need fororganized fund drives and for professional fundraisers. Some left-of-center critics view such developments as both unnecessary and undesirable. Theyargue that to solicit and accept funds from foundations, business corporations, wealthy individualsand families, expresses approval of the way in whichthe money was acquired and of a society in whichlarge private fortunes are permitted to accumulateand influence political and cultural life. There isalso the implication in their criticisms that privateuniversities, in accepting support from thesesources, surrender their independence and freedomand become the advocates of a conservative business54ideology held by their financial supporters.These criticisms are not entirely new; they recallthe populist cries of "tainted money" voiced in thenineteenth century against the gifts of Rockefeller,Carnegie, and other philanthropists to private universities.When William Jennings Bryan heard that IllinoisCollege, of which he was a trustee, accepted a Carnegie pension plan, he sent in a letter of resignation:"Our college cannot serve God and Mammon,"he told the president. "It cannot be a college forthe people and at the same time commend itself tothe commercial highwaymen who are now subsidizing the colleges to prevent the teaching ofeconomical truth. It grieves me to have my almamater converted into an ally of plutocracy, buthaving done what I could to prevent it, I have noother resource than to withdraw from its management." The college accepted Bryan's resignationand kept the pension program — one more victoryfor Carnegie over Populism (Wall, p. 874).Whatever may have been the cogency of the"tainted money" criticism in the nineteenth century,it has lost much of its force today. The outstandingprivate universities are not disposed to accept fundsthat were acquired illegally or in morally reprehensible ways, and they are not likely to solicit oraccept funds under a stipulation to teach a particular ideology. The more realistic problem today is topersuade business corporations, foundations, andwealthy families and individuals to give their moneyto the private university! And the private university'spersuasiveness rarely turns on questions of ideological orthodoxy; it depends on its distinction as acenter for research and teaching, and on the particular ways it can serve the public interest as well asthe special needs and interests of different donors,and of the community at large.Since both radical and conservative critics tend toexaggerate the ideological factor in private philanthropy and to oversimplify the motivations forgiving, it is useful to ask why the different groupsand individual donors give to the private university.Religious convictions about stewardship or a secularbelief in the social responsibility of wealth may nolonger be the dominant motivations for giving, butneither are the willful suppression of economic truthor the building of personal monuments.Business corporations find it to their interest tocontribute to the support of the university, theirfinancial conditions permitting, because they canbenefit from the university's research and trainingprograms, because their employees and employee'schildren can benefit from the university's educational facilities, and because the university improves the quality of educational and cultural life in thecommunity. It is good business for the corporationsto support the university, because it is to theirinterests to locate in a stable, healthy, and educatedcommunity.Most private foundations' motives for supportingprivate colleges and universities are similar to thoseof business corporations: it is a matter of enlightened self-interest, and of tax exemptions for contributions to support non-profit institutions. Themotives of a few selected foundations, liowever, gobeyond this, for they were deliberately created toadvance and diffuse knowledge and understandingfor the general welfare of mankind, or to help solvethe problems of peace, democracy, the economy,education, and the scientific study of man. Thisgroup of foundations, represented by Ford, Rockefeller, Carnegie, and others, has a direct anddecisive reason for support of the private universitiesas one of the major instruments for achieving thesame ultimate objectives. Foundation support forprivate universities not only advances "pure"science and scholarship but usually makes possiblethe development of theoretical discoveries to thepoint where they can be evaluated and be madeavailable for public use.In supporting this kind of university researchdevelopment and training, the foundations have alsoplayed an important broker role between governmental and public agencies on the one hand, andthe business and academic community on the other.As one student of these relationships has observed,if such foundations had not existed, it would havebeen necessary to invent them in order to makeavailable to the various branches of government atfederal, state, and local levels the technical information and trained staffs needed for legislative, executive, and judicial decisions (Karl, 1969).Religious, fraternal, ethnic, and other organizations, who represent a significant source of contributions to private universities, and to The Universityof Chicago in particular, do not make their gifts insupport of a particular business or political ideology. They seek public recognition for their respective cultural traditions and the opportunity to keepthem alive. Surely, this was an important motive forthe original Baptist support for the University, as itwas for organized Jewish support, as it now is for theJapanese government grant to support Japanesestudies.The individual philanthropist's motives for givingto the university are rarely ideological. His motiveshave been as varied and mixed as those of socialgroups. Dr. Barrows, pastor of the donor Mrs.Haskell, referred to an important constellation ofsuch motives in his address in 1895, when the cor-55nerstone was laid for the Haskell Oriental Museum:"religion and learning and civic pride and thenatural desire for a splendid immortality are all appealing to the large-hearted and open-handed"(Goodspeed, p. 298).Rabbi Emil G. Hirsch, the first Professor ofRabbinical Literature and Philosophy and leader ofthe Sinai Congregation, added another importantmotive in his address in 1901 on the occasion of thelaying of the cornerstone for Mandel Hall and theTower group of buildings:The man for whom this building will be namedwas prompted to his gift by the recognition that,if Chicago and America have offered him opportunities, he would be untrue to the best andnoblest of his nature were he not willing to makesome return in service and helpfulness in thetemple of the higher humanities to his kind cityand country. ... A German by birth, an American by election, Mr. Mandel has indeed shownhimself to be a typical Chicagoan both by hiscommercial sagacity and his liberality (Good-speed, Biographical Sketches, Vol. II, p. 170).The feelings of loyalty and gratitude to an institution or community for opportunity was also a strongmotive for the philanthropies of Julius Rosenwald,Andrew Carnegie, and many other immigrants, asthey have been for alumni gifts.Sometimes a motive for a gift can be quite idiosyncratic. Woodrow Wilson as President of Princeton tried to persuade Carnegie to endow graduatecollege residence halls, a School of Jurisprudenceand Government, a School of Science, and the introduction of the tutorial system, by emphasizingPrinceton's and his own "Scottish connections"—"She has been largely made by Scotsmen, being myself of pure Scots blood, it heartens me to emphasizethe fact." Carnegie, however, had other things onhis mind. After President Wilson had given him theGrand Tour, Carnegie said: "I know exactly whatPrinceton needs and I intend to give it to her — It's alake. Princeton should have a rowing crew to compete with Harvard, Yale, and Columbia. That willtake young men's minds off football" (Wall, p. 868).Social status and prestige would probably beadded by sociologists as further motives for philanthropic gifts and activities. Although not so frequently mentioned by philanthropists themselves asthe more altruistic motives, they undoubtedly playtheir part as incentives to the giving of money andtime to educational and cultural institutions.From the point of view of the private university asa recipient of private philanthropy, the consequences of the gift for the University are at least asimportant as the particular mixture of motives prompting a gift of service or funds. Not only theamount and timing of a gift, but also its unrestrictednature and freedom from special conditions, can beof great significance for the University. Rockefellerwas in this respect an exemplary giver. Once he hadapproved the President and made his gifts, he didnot interfere with the administration of the University or its educational and research policies, despitehis great and continued personal interest in thegrowth of the University. He in fact asked PresidentHarper not to consult him on University administrative decisions. Harper for his part possessed theindependence, boldness, and imagination to build agreat institution of higher learning that would beworthy of the donor's highest motives, and, incidentally, help him redistribute his wealth.Private Philanthropy and the University in aMixed SystemEric Ashby has suggested a useful conceptualframework for analyzing and understanding theforces which maintain and change systems of highereducation in different countries. He sees the stabilityor instability of the universities as dependent on thebalance of five main forces of influence — two internal forces: transmitting the cultural heritage, andthe belief in the purpose of the institution which isheld by those who are engaged in it, "its inner logic" ;and three external forces: customer demand, i.e., thedemands of students to get in and to shape the curriculum, manpower needs for graduates in particular jobs, and patrons influence. The balancebetween these forces differs in different countries,according to Ashby' s comparative survey. Manpower needs and the state's influence as a patronplay a predominant role in the Soviet Union. InBritain until recently inner logic has played a predominant part in the universities, while customerdemand and manpower needs have influencedcolleges in the public sector. In the United StatesAshby finds that "customer demand has had a predominant influence, both on the size of the systemand on its astonishing diversity, but the graduateschools are guided by an inner logic."In all these systems of higher education all overthe world, the balance of forces is being upset bysocial changes and is moving toward new realignments. Ashby cannot forsee what the new equilibriaare going to be, although he believes it is essentialthat those engaged in higher education shoulddecide what each sector in the system stands for, itsinner logic, and defend it against the capriciouscurrents of social change. The claims of "customerdemand" and "manpower needs" should not beignored but recognized in the sphere of vocational56and professional higher education where cost-benefit analysis can be applied. "But cost-benefitanalysis applied to non-vocational higher educationis nonsense; indeed such education may be counterproductive, producing men and women who not onlyeschew high-income careers for themselves but evenreject and oppose the commonly accepted norms ofWestern society for an ever- increasing GNP. . . .The prime aspiration in non-vocational higher education is to keep our society pluralistic, humane,and tolerant; open to alternative truths, able todistinguish prejudice from error."In terms of Ashby' s conceptual scheme, Americanuniversities, private and public, obviously representa mixed system — being subject to the influence ofcustomer demand, manpower needs, and patrons,as well as to the "inertia" of the traditional culturalheritage and the "inner logic" of educational aspirations and philosophies. The system is mixed in thesense that its operation depends on the interplay ofthe market (customer demand and manpowerneeds), government (the state as patron), and voluntary associations and individuals (as patrons). Theproportions of the different components havechanged significantly since the Second World War.In terms of the private university's revenues, themost striking change has been the increase in thefederal government's contributions to operatingexpenditures. This contribution has increased froma negligible fraction before the Second World Warto as much as 50 percent for some private universities. According to one study, government grantsand contracts accounted for less than 2 percent oftotal income at Chicago, Princeton, and Vanderbiltbefore World War II; 13 percent in 1948-49; 24.4percent in 1955-56; and 45.9 percent in 1965-66[Bowen, 1968, p. 35].For all private universities the percentage distribution of income in 1963-64 was found in this studyto be as follows:Government Grants and Contracts 45. 1 %Student Fees 34.4%Endowment Income 8.8%Private Gifts and Grants 11.8%These figures exclude income for capitalexpenditures and income derived from operation ofhospitals and auxiliary enterprises.For the fiscal year 1972-73, U.S. governmentcontracts and grants amounted to 33.9 percent ofThe University of Chicago's operating expenditures,excluding the Hospitals and Clinics. Including theHospitals and Clinics, it amounted to 26.2 percent(Source: Office of the Comptroller, The Universityof Chicago.) Government grants and contracts are not the onlyform taken by increasing government influence onprivate universities. Not only do these grants andcontracts bring with them government standardsand regulations which change the University'saccounting and academic procedures, but legislation has also imposed constraints on the privateuniversity's sources of voluntary support. In the caseof the Tax Reform Act of 1969, such legislation hasprobably reduced somewhat the incentive of privatephilanthropy to make gifts to private universities.The changing role of government and voluntaryphilanthropy as patrons of higher education in theUnited States can also be found in other domains ofsocial and cultural activity. In community philanthropy, to take one example, a very similar trendtoward increasing government responsibility anddecreasing voluntary responsibility has occurred.The nineteenth-century emphasis on discouragingpublic charity to the unemployed and other poorforced the development of large private socialagencies which eventually coordinated their financial demands upon the community in over-all jointdrives on an annual basis. On the other hand, sincethe 1930s, as private philanthropy proved insufficient to meet the needs for financial relief andsocial services, the states and the federal government with the localities have assumed full responsibility for financial assistance to needy families andhave taken on much of the costs of medical care andmental health and other social services. But thecommunity's need for social services has grownfaster than the willingness of the government tosupport it, and so private philanthropy has againmade up the difference. When public funds aredrastically cut, as they have been recently, the responsibility of the private agency is automaticallyincreased. To some extent, the private universitycompetes with these agencies for the philanthropicdollar and for the philanthropist's time and support.Yet, as the examples of Rockefeller, Carnegie, andRosenwald show, the great philanthropists havealways managed to find the time and money both forhigher education and for social service. Fortunatelyfor The University of Chicago, their example is stillbeing followed today by many philanthropists.There is both an obvious parallel and a lesson forthe private university in the history of communityphilanthropy. The lesson is suggested by SolomonFabricant's questions which he poses at the end ofhis essay on "Philanthropy in the AmericanEconomy":Is there any need to support private philanthropywhen government is taking over more and more ofthe burden of helping the needy, financing higher57as well as lower education on an increasing scale,and beginning to support the sciences, arts, andhumanities? Should not the trend toward publicphilanthropy be encouraged, and should not private philanthropy be expected to retire from thescene — except as the chief support of religiousactivities, which the Constitution reserves for theprivate purse? Or is there, on the contrary, substance to the argument that private philanthropyperforms certain useful social functions that cannot be entrusted to government: that it is essential to human progress that we seek to discoverand test better ways to live and work together—that this requires independence of thought, initiative, and willingness to invest in what may sometimes seem to be extreme or impractical ideas —that these requirements are not easily met bygovernment? Should we not continue to dependon "voluntary associations," which John Jewkesonce said "are the life-blood of free society; theyhave in the past led to much of our progress ineducation, social insurance and health services . . ."?Is there substance also to the claim that there isa need to foster private philanthropy even inroutine areas, such as running the hospitals — thatvoluntary participation in such activities, in theform of contributions of time and money, constitutes an essential exercise of the spirit of brotherhood basic to social existence — that this sense ofresponsibility for one another needs to be instilledin the young, if civilization is to be maintained ina world in which each quarter-century sees a newgeneration — that teaching our children to developtheir philanthropic "instincts" is a function notonly of the family, school and church, but also ofthe voluntary association — that, in addition, competition between private and governmental philanthropic institutions is good for both?Fabricant admits that it is easier to stir up suchquestions than to answer them. Yet the argumentfor voluntary philanthropy in higher education isperhaps clinched by the fact that even state andpublic colleges and universities are now turning toprivate philanthropy to increase their income, flexibility, and independence.Recognition of the ambiguities and complexitiesof the mixed system tends understandably to temperUtopian hopes for a lost paradise of pre- or post-industrial communities in which philanthropy is butan inherent expression of mutual aid betweenneighbors. The need for mutual aid is no less evidentand urgent in the present "great society," butwhether it should take the form of tax reform, morecommunity philanthropy, or anti-trust enforcementis the kind of question that cannot be so easilysettled as it was by consulting the sentiments ofbenevolence or the calculus of enlightened self- interest in a preindustrial society.For the private university the ambiguities are noless compelling. Its own liberty to be maximally self-determining of its educational policies andprograms is dependent in part upon its ability toattract resources from the private sector and on diversifying those resources as between foundations,business corporations, wealthy individuals, alumniand other groups. Not only will such a policy enablethe university to keep average tuition from skyrocketing; it will also help keep the university frombecoming overly dependent on government funds oron any other single source. At the same time, theuniversity must accept the principle that the exerciseof freedom and power of persons and institutions,including universities, must in a democratic societybe limited for the sake of compensating benefits foreveryone and for the common good.Awareness and acceptance of the role of the private university in a mixed system is not likely to produce among university students or faculty todaysuch spontaneous displays of enthusiasm and gratitude as greeted John D. Rockefeller's 1895 announcement of a million dollar gift and a promiseof an additional two million if the University couldraise a matching two million. According to JohnFlynn's account (God 's Gold, p. 311):The new students of Chicago University werethrown into a frenzy of delight at this munificence. To the tune of Daisy Bell they marchedaround the campus and sang:John D. RockefellerWonderful man is he.Gives all his spare changeTo the U. of C.He keeps the ball a-rollingIn our great varsity.He pays Dr. HarperTo help us grow sharperFor the glory of the U. of C.Fortunately for the future of the private university, most philanthropists do not today expect orask for such a flamboyant "thank you." Nor, forthat matter, did Rockefeller, Carnegie, and othernineteenth-century philanthropists. The Committeeon Philanthropy has been encouraged to learn fromits conversations with several University trusteesthat in their informed opinion there are stillconsiderable private fortunes "spread around,"whose possessors need only to be educated aboutU.C.'s special virtues and distinctions to give it their"spare change" and personal support. The Committee was also heartened to find that the image ofthe University in the minds of these trustees is onbalance a highly favorable one and is based on an58appreciation of the University's extraordinary succession of administrative and intellectual leadersfrom Harper to Hutchins, Kimpton, Beadle, and thepresent incumbent, on the distinction of its faculty,and on its many contributions to college anduniversity education, and to science and scholarship.Some Practical RecommendationsThe Committee on Philanthropy recognizes that thepresent administrative leadership of the Universityis aware of the many problems now confronting theprivate university in the United States, and that ithas undertaken to deal with these problems in avariety of ingenious and imaginative ways. Not theleast of these efforts has been the creation of facultyessay-writing committees to think about and analyzethe problems. For its part, the Committee on Philanthropy can only underline the importance ofthese practical steps. Our preceding analysis hasimpressed on us the urgency of several special needsand opportunities in the University's relations to thecommunity and to voluntary philanthropy. Inclosing we should like to make several practical recommendations:1. The University needs to make its own activitiesand problems more real and immediate to the community at large and to potential donors. It should dothis not only through the apparatus of a highlyorganized and centralized fund drive, but alsothrough decentralized, pluralistic, and personalcontacts between individual donors and the appropriate areas of the University. Potential donors, likemost Americans, are problem solvers; they areprepared to commit themselves, their time, ingenuity, and funds to help solve the University'sproblems, if they are shown in a concrete and directway what some of the specific problems are. TheUniversity's internal variety in academic programsand organizational structure gives it an advantage inappealing to a wide variety of interests and motivations.2. While the different administrative units andacademic programs, as well as individual facultymembers, should be encouraged to make publicpresentations of their respective activities throughvisiting committees and other channels, we believethat in several important problem areas it would beuseful to establish standing faculty committees forpurposes of consultation, communication, and coordination. At the present time we see theimmediate need for at least two such committees.One is a faculty "Committee on the Neighborhood," which would have as its tasks to act as aclearing house for faculty suggestions about the neighborhood and faculty complaints; to act as aninitiating or coordinating body when certain mattersarise; to cooperate with other neighborhood groupsin seeking certain goals; to act as a pressure groupwithin the University, as well as outside it, inmatters like neighborhood housing, shopping,schools, bookstores, cafes, galleries, etc. This committee could be either appointed or elected, but itshould be a standing committee, to give evidence ofthe University's concern; and its membershipshould change periodically, to make new viewpointsheard. The committee should encourage faculty toget in touch with it, and perhaps exploit downtownand business school resources in studying certainproblems. This committee could also sponsor lectures, seminars, and exhibitions on the social, cultural, and architectural history of the city and of theUniversity community in particular.A faculty "Committee on Philanthropy," a standing one, would funnel faculty suggestions to theappropriate administrative office, and would act ingeneral to suggest ways of using faculty resources forthe improvement of relations with prospectivefriends and donors.Such a faculty committee could in particular helpto overcome the University's institutional formalityin its relations with prospective donors. The committee would also be an appropriate group toorganize a faculty fund-drive. Such a faculty effortwas successfully organized at the time of the lastUniversity drive. A substantial amount of moneywas raised without the use of pressure tactics. Thenames of contributors were not made public andwere not revealed to Chairmen, Deans, or the central administration, so individual faculty memberscould neither be rewarded nor penalized for theircontributions.3. From the viewpoint of philanthropy, the bringing of artists and writers into the University wouldprovide the wealthy donor the opportunity to renewhis ancient role as patron of arts and letters in amodern institutional setting. Whether his patronagetakes the form of a named professorship, the commissioning of a work of art, or the endowment of afellowship, it will give him the opportunity to sharein a direct personal way in the improvement of theUniversity and of the quality of life in the community, as well as in the revitalization of art and literature. "An art without living practioners," as SaulBellow has written "belongs to the fossil museum, tothe paleontologists, archeologists, and curators,"4. To open a new channel of communication withalumni and with the educated public, a service ofthe highest importance might be performed by theUniversity in publishing a monthly book review. Atpresent there is no publication in the United States59that reviews books dependably for the generalpublic. Newspaper book reviewing is obviously inadequate. There are, of course, specialized reviewjournals but these cannot be penetrated by thecommon reader. The faculty of a great universitymight begin to be adequate to the task of interpreting new books in every field to an educated publicwhich is, at the moment, threatened by the disappearance of its common culture. The job isprodigiously difficult, perhaps already impossible incertain fields, but history, philosophy, literature,art, certain branches of social science, and, withinlimits, biology, astronomy, etc., remain accessiblestill and in organizing a book review such as weenvision the University would be leading the battleagainst incomprehension and against the philistinism with which overspecialization threatens us. Ifthe University were to organize such a book reviewjournal it would find itself in control of a powerful,intellectual and cultural engine.Summary and ConclusionsThe University must rely on private philanthropy asit has in the past for a major source of its income.Not only has philanthropy made the Universitypossible, created and sustained it; philanthropyremains one of the very few sources of income consistent with the University's mission and continuedindependence.Despite the enormous increase of federal government grants and contracts since World War II, theUniversity cannot rely on this source to replacevoluntary philanthropy, because government fundsare apt to be cut back with changes in administration and Congressional fiscal policies, andgovernment funds also bring with them governmentregulations that limit a private university's freedomof inquiry and may modify its standards of excellence.Although the sponsorship and the support of organized denominational groups were decisivefactors in the founding of the University, thereligious denominations are not now likely to increase their support to a secular university,especially at a time when their own educationalinstitutions are in financial difficulties.Religious convictions about the stewardship ofwealth, however, remain a strong motivation forgiving to universities and colleges. This motivationfor philanthropy is often mixed with love of learningand truth, with civic loyalty and gratitude to aninstitution or to a local community, with the desireto honor one's cultural traditions, as well as withenlightened self-interest, and with the quest for higher social standing and personal immortality.The desire to propagate a particular economic orpolitical ideology is not a frequent motive amongdonors, nor is this a kind of motive to which adistinguished university can afford to appeal andmaintain its strength and reputation. Since themotives of donors are so varied and mixed, a university's fund-raising must ultimately depend on theconvictions its faculty, administration, and trusteeshold about its educational mission, rather than baseits academic policies on short-run fund-raisingappeals.The changes in both private philanthropy and inprivate universities since the end of the nineteenthcentury have been complementary to each other andto changes in society at large. They reflect thegrowth of large-scale organizations and of large-scale government. These changes not only have hada direct incidence on the private university's internalorganization; they have had an equally importantindirect impact through their effects on businessorganization, religious denominations, culturalattitudes, political institutions, mass education, andmass culture. Harper's "very simple but thoroughgoing" plan for the University and Rockefeller'smagnificent gifts supplemented by the generoussupport of the local community provided a winningcombination that has proved adaptive, flexible, andinnovative in the face of these changes for over 80years.The cumulative effect of the changes, however,has transformed the University in size, scale, andcomplexity; in its relations to the local community,to students and faculty, and to government and private philanthropy. The University if it is not to beoverwhelmed by the drift of these changes must stopand ask itself what kind of a University it wishes tobecome. Should it, for example, follow the lines ofleast resistance and become a multiversity with eachpart paying its way in terms of tuition fees, researchgrants, and other practical support? Fortunately forall of us and the larger society, the present administrative leadership has not accepted this view and hasnot abandoned Harper's idea that a universityshould have an inner direction and judgment as toits course. President Levi has welcomed the presentwith its problems as a time to rethink deeper issuesand has asked faculty committees to consider theproblems and issues that face the University. TheCommittee on Philanthropy and the University, forits part, offers this essay to the common effort atrethinking and renewal.Since the private university must operate in amixed system of government, student fees, andvoluntary philanthropic support, its independence60and integrity depends on maintaining a balanceamong these diverse sources of revenue and support.That balance has been upset by the relative increase,at least since World War II, of the federal government as a patron of private higher education and therelative decline of voluntary philanthropy as apatron. To restore the balance and to avoid theequally undesirable alternatives of overdependenceon the federal government or on student fees, voluntary philanthropy, from many different kinds ofgroups and individuals, must now come forward toassure the University's freedom to combine the bestof the old values in Harper's legacy with some of thenew values emerging in a humanistic ethic.Some of the University's trustees and other present-day philanthropists share these views, and theycombine, in their own philosophies of giving, theolder values of stewardship, personal involvementand commitment with the newer values of socialjustice, social responsibility, and human interdependence. [See, for example, John D. RockefellerIII, The Second American Revolution, Some Personal Observations.] That among them should begrandchildren and great grandchildren of foundingdonors as well as first generation donors whose philosophies, while "modern," contain "traditional"values concerning education, research, and thecommunity, gives assurance for both the University's continuity and its renewal.Respectfully submitted March 8, 1974, by the Committee on Philanthropy and the University.Saul BellowWalter BlumFrank BruelJames GustafsonNeil HarrisBarry KarlTetsuo NajitaMilton Singer (Chairman)ReferencesThe American Assembly, The Future of Foundations. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall, Inc.Ashby, E., "The Structure of Higher Education:A World View," International Council for Educational Development.Bellow, S., "Chicago and American Culture: OneWriter's View." Speech at the Centennial Celebration of the Chicago Public Library, October 10,1972.Ben-David, Joseph, American Higher Education,Directions Old and New. New York, N.Y.: McGraw- Hill (The Carnegie Commission on Higher Education), 1972.Bowen, William G., The Economics of the MajorPrivate Universities. Berkeley, California: CarnegieCommission on Higher Education, 1968.Bremner, Robert H., American Philanthropy.Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1960.Carnegie, A., The Gospel of Wealth and OtherTimely Essays, edited by E.C. Kirkland. Cambridge,Mass.: Harvard University Press.Council for Financial Aid to Education, Voluntary Support of Education, 1970-1971.Fabricant, S., "Philanthropy in the AmericanEconomy, An Introduction."Flynn, J.T., God's Gold, The Story of Rockefellerand His Times. New York: Harcourt, Brace & Co.Goodspeed, Thomas Wakefield, History of theUniversity of Chicago. Chicago: The University ofChicago Press, 1916, p. 522.Goodspeed, Thomas Wakefield, The Universityof Chicago Biographical Sketches, 2 vols. Chicago:The University of Chicago Press, 1922, 1925.An Historical Sketch. (Showing the progress ofthe University from its organization until its formalopening, October 1, 1892. Reprinted from the President's Report, 1897-98.) Chicago: The University ofChicago Press, 1899.Harris, N. "Introduction" in The Land ofContrasts 1880-1901. New York, N.Y.: GeorgeBraziller, 1970.Karl, B.D., "Presidential Planning and SocialScience Research: Mr. Hoover's Experts," in Perspectives in American History 3 (1969).Levi, E.H., "The State of the University," TheUniversity of Chicago Record, Vol. VII, No. 3(March 21, 1973).Mann, A., N. Harris, and S.B. Warner, Jr., History and the Role of the City in American Life.Indianapolis: Indiana Historical Society, 1972.Mayer, M., Young Man in a Hurry, the Story ofWilliam Rainey Harper. The University of ChicagoAlumni Association.Nevins, Allan, Study in Power, John D. Rockefeller Industrialist and Philanthropist, 2 vols. NewYork: Charles Scribners Sons, 1953.Nielsen, Waldemar A., The Big Foundations.New York: Columbia University Press, 1972.One in Spirit. Chicago: The Joseph RegensteinLibrary, 1973.Foundations, Private Giving, and Public Policy,Report and Recommendations of the PetersonCommission on Foundations and Private Philanthropy, Chicago, 1970.Piter, J., Revitalizing the Charitable Deduction.Carnegie Corporation, 1972"Report of the Committee on Private Universities61and Private Giving," The University of ChicagoRecord, Vol. VII, No. 5 (April 21, 1973), pp. 95-111.Rockefeller, J.D., III, The Second American Revolution, Some Personal Observations.The Julius Rosenwald Centennial at the University of Chicago, October 15, 1962.Ross, A.D., "Philanthropy," The InternationalEncyclopedia of the Social Sciences. New York:Macmillan, 1968.Shils, E.A., "Private Philanthropy and HigherEducation."Storr, Richard, Harpers University: The Beginnings, A History of The University of Chicago. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1966.Tewksbury, D.G., The Founding of AmericanColleges and Universities Before the Civil War. NewYork: Teachers College, Columbia University, 1932."Report of the Committee on Tuition," The University of Chicago Record, Vol. VII, No. 4 (April 3,1973), pp. 56-69.The University of Chicago, Official Bulletin No. 1(January, 1891).Wall, J.F., Andrew Carnegie. New York: OxfordUniversity Press, 1970.Warner, W.L., and J.C. Abbegglen., Big BusinessLeaders in America. New York: Atheneum, 1963.62CHANGES IN EXPENDITURES FOR SALARIES ANDWAGES BY CATEGORIES, THE UNIVERSITY OFCHICAGO, 1968-69 THROUGH 1972-73March 8, 1974The two attached tables provide information onchanges in expenditures for five categories ofappointments — faculty, research associates, assistants and other academic personnel (which togetherconstitute academic personnel), and nonacademic.The data cannot be used to infer either changes inthe numbers of academic and nonacademic personnel nor changes in the average levels of salaries.Changes in total salaries and wages are a function ofchanges in the numbers employed and changes inaverage annual salaries for each of the categories.Data are given in the top of each table for the entireUniversity and in the bottom of each table for theUniversity excluding the Hospitals and Clinics.For the entire University the relative share of dollars expended for nonacademic salaries and wagesincreased over the five-year period, from 56.2 percent in 1968-69 to 61.1 percent in 1972-73. Therelative share of dollars expended for faculty salariesdeclined from 31.0 percent in 1968-69 to 28.8 percent in 1972-73. The largest declines in the relativeshares of total salary and wage expenditures werefor research associates and assistants rather than forfaculty.However, over half of the increase in total non-academic salaries and wages over the five-yearperiod occurred in the Hospitals and Clinics. For thefive-year period total expenditures for nonacademicsalaries and wages increased by $17.5 million; ofthis increase $9.5 million occurred in the Hospitalsand Clinics. The lower part of Table 2, which givesthe percentage distribution of total expenditures onsalaries and wages, reveals that the share of facultysalaries in total salaries and wages remained quiteconstant for the five years, varying from 37.1 percentto 37.9 percent of the total.' The share of nonacademic salaries in total salaries had a smallupward trend during the period, from 47.2 percentin 1968-69 to 49.3 percent in 1972-73.It may be noted that over the entire period expenditures for faculty salaries increased by 24.2 percentcompared to an increase of 24.7 percent for non-academic salaries.A comparison of the changes in total salaries andwages paid to nonacademic personnel in theacademic areas and to nonacademic personnel inthe administrative areas may be of interest, thoughthe data are not included in the attached tables. Theadministrative areas include the administrativeoffices, student and service activities, generaleducational institutional expense, and plant.Nonacademic personnel academic areas includethose in the divisions, schools, library, extension,and precollegiate education. Between 1969-70 and1972-73 total salaries and wages paid to nonacademic personnel in the administrative areasincreased by 15 percent; total funds devoted tosalaries and wages of nonacademic personnel in theacademic areas increased 16 percent.!It does not appear that there has been a significant change in the distribution of salaries and wagesfor faculty and for nonacademic personnel over thepast four or five years.1. The use of 1969-70 as the first year in the comparisonwas due to the absence of actual data for the expendituresfor nonacademic personnel in the plant department for1968-69. As indicated in footnote a to Table 1 the authorestimated such expenditures for 1968-69.The Office of Economic Analysis, D. Gale Johnson63TABLE 1 : TOTAL EXPENDITURE FOR SALARIES AND WAGES BY CATEGORIES,1968-69 THROUGH 1972-73(Thousands of Dollars)FacultySalaries ResearchAssociates Assistants OtherAcademics Non-Academic TotalUniversity, Total1968-691969-701970-711971-721972-73 21,14523,21424,04625,17126,262 2,7672,8892,7592,7252,898 2,1072,3212,1891,9591,955 3,7534,6484,5124,2504,321 (38,308)a45,01948,81952,55955,837 (68,080)a78,09182,32586,66491,273Total, excludingHospitals andClinics1968-691969-701970-711971-721972-73 21,145b23,154b24,04625,17126,262 2,6572,7352,7442,6892,850 2,1072,3212,1891,9591,955 3,6674,5114,4294,2134,310 (26,400)a29,68031,38832,39934,415 (55,976)a62,39264,79666,43169,792a Nonacademic salaries were partially estimated for plant department for 1968-69. The estimate is almost certainly onthe low side, thus reducing the percentage of total salaries attributed to nonacademic salaries.bIn 1968-69 and 1969- 70 some faculty salaries were included in the accounts of the Hospitals and Clinics; the amountsinvolved have been transferred to the Division of Biological Sciences.TABLE 2: DISTRIBUTION OF EXPENDITURE OF FUNDS FOR SALARIES AND WAGES,1968-69 THROUGH 1972-73(Percent)FacultySalaries ResearchAssociates Assistants OtherAcademics Non-Academic TotalaUniversity, Total1968-691969-701970-711971-721972-73 31.029.729.229.028.8 4.13.73.33.13.2 3.13.02.72.22.1 5.55.95.54.94.7 56.257.659.360.661.1 100.0100.0100.0100.0100.0University, excluding Hospitals andClinics1968-691969-701970-711971-721972-73 37.837.137.137.937.6 4.74.44.24.04.1 3.83.73.42.92.8 6.57.26.86.36.2 47.247.548.448.849.3 100.0100.0100.0100.0100.0aDue to rounding errors the sum of a row may not add to exactly 100.0.64VISITING COMMITTEESVisiting Committees are "official" committees ofthe University, provided for in the By-Laws and reporting directly to the Board of Trustees of the University. They are composed of individuals selectedby the Board for their varied insights, interests, andabilities relating to a given academic area.Upon the recommendation of the Dean or Director of the academic area involved, and with the concurrence of the President, the following personswere appointed members of the Visiting Committees.Visiting Committee to the Department of ArtClass 1 (term expiring September 30, 1974)Mrs. Eugene DavidsonThomas FlanneryStanley FreehlingRichard HuntRobert MayerJohn RewaldFranz SchulzeClass 2 (term expiring September 30, 1975)Frederick AsherScott HodesH. W. JansonM. A. LipschultzMrs. Robert Mayer (Chairperson)Mrs. Mary M. McDonaldMrs. C. Phillip MillerFrank H. WoodsCouncil for the Division of the Biological Sciencesand The Pritzker School of MedicineClass 3 (term expiring September 30, 1976)George W. BeadleOrville C. BeattieNathan BedermanB. E. BensingerPhilip D. Block, Jr.Nathan CummingsCatherine Lindsay DobsonWilliam E. Fay, Jr.Maxwell GeffenOscar GetzRobert J. Glaser Stanford GoldblattJohn Green, Jr.Hunt HamillJ. Ira HarrisRobert HartmanCharles HugginsWallace D. JohnsonLawrence A. KimptonMartin J. KoldykeDr. Clayton LoosliJohn D. MabieElmer NicholsonLyle E. PackardA. N. Pritzker (Chairperson)Clarence ReedJoseph Regenstein, Jr.John Shedd SchweppeDaniel SearleEarl W. ShapiroDr. Harold ThompsonJohn Earl ThompsonMrs. William WrigleyCouncil on the Graduate School of BusinessClass 1 (term expiring September 30, 1974)William O. BeersKarl R. BendetsenEugene P. BergJames W. ButtonWilliam A. Buzick, Jr.Ralph E. GomoryThomas HancockWilliam G. KarnesRaymond A. KrocAlvin W. LongRay W. MacdonaldJohn A. MattmillerOscar G. MayerHart PerryEli ShapiroT. M. ThompsonC. R. Walgreen IIIChristopher W. WilsonWilliam T. YlvisakerClass 2 (term expiring September 30, 1975)Norman Barker, Jr.Allan S. Blank65Philip D. Block, Jr.James BurdW. Newton Burdick, Jr.Raymond N. CarlenMarvin ChandlerGranger CostikyanW. Leonard Evans, Jr.John P. GallagherW. L. Hadley GriffinRobert C. GunnessDavid K. HardinLawrence A. KimptonHarry W. KirchheimerJohn H. KornblithC. Virgil MartinWilliam C. MushamPeter G. PetersonJames M. PhelanBeryl SprinkelRobert D. Stuart, Jr.M. P. VenemaC. Lee Walton, Jr. (Vice-Chairperson)Theodore O. YntemaClass 3 (term expiring September 30, 1976)Thomas G. AyersEdmund F. BallRobert E. BrookerFairfax M. ConeJames H. EvansRobert P. GwinnIrving B. Harris (Chairperson)Robert S. IngersollDavid JonesPaul F. LorenzT. W. NelsonEllmore C. PattersonRobert W. RenekerRalph S. SaulGeorge L. ShinnAllen P. StultsJ. W. Van GorkomJoseph S. WrightVisiting Committee to the CollegeClass 1 (term expiring September 30, 1974)Barbara Phelps AndersonArthur A. BaerIra CornJohn F. Dille, Jr.William S. Gray 111John T. HortonKeith I. ParsonsChristopher Peebles Sydney Stein, Jr.Philip C. WhiteClass 2 (term expiring September 30, 1975)Edward L. Anderson, Jr.Robert J. GreenebaumCarl F. HovdeAlbert Pick, Jr.Saul S. ShermanDr. Nancy E. WarnerThe Hon. Hubert L. WillHoward L. WillettClass 3 (term expiring September 30, 1976)Virginia ButtsEmmett DedmonMrs. Gaylord FreemanDeirdre HollowayW. Rea KeastE. Wilson LyonRichard MerbaumBradley PattersonCharles H. PercyWilliam ProvineDavid B. TrumanRobert C. Upton (Chairperson)F. Champion WardVisiting Committee to the Divinity SchoolClass 1 (term expiring September 30, 1974)Rosecrans BaldwinKenneth BlockRobert E. BrookerMarvin ChandlerJohn ColmanMilton F. Darr, Jr.Charles H. DavisonJames C. Downs, Jr.Stanley HillmanCharles W. Lake, Jr.Leo R. NewcombeKeith I. ParsonsJames T. RhindWeathers Y. SykesGeorge H. WatkinsClass 2 (term expiring September 30, 1975)Russell M. BairdSolomon BernardsRobert L. Berner, Jr.Ralph A. L. Bogan, Jr.Leo J. CarlinJohn F. ConnorEmmett Dedmon66R. Neal FulkJohn GallagherJohn GiuraGlen A. LloydMrs. John NuveenNomenee B. Robinson, Sr.Robert StuartSamuel StumpfClinton YouleClass 3 (term expiring September 30, 1976)Harold BosleyHerbert BronsteinPatrick F. CrowleyEarl B. DickersonGaylord DonnelleyKingman Douglass, Jr. (Chairperson)Robert G. MiddletonC. Phillip MillerVisiting Committee to the Graduate School ofEducation and the Department of EducationClass 1 (term expiring September 30, 1974)Luther H. FosterJames F. RedmondSydney Stein, Jr.George H. Watkins (Chairperson)Class 2 (term expiring September 30, 1975)David E. BellCharles BentonJohn L. BurnsWilliam S. Gray IIIErnest R. HilgardLawrence A. KimptonAndrew McNally 111Henry RegneryMrs. Daniel C. SmithClass 3 (term expiring September 30, 1976Kenneth B. ClarkLawrence CreminVisiting Committee to the Committee on IEastern StudiesClass 3 (term expiring September 30, 1976)A. Robert Abboud (Vice-Chairperson)James AbegglenKunihiko AdachiJames AlsdorfRichard BechtoltJack Beem William BeersJames F. BereJoseph BlockCharles L. BrownLee CarstensLester CrownEmmett Dedmon (Chairperson)Louis F. Dempsey IIIRichard EdwardsRita HauserCharles HuckerRobert S. IngersollPaul R. JudyPhilip KlutznickMrs. Samuel T. LawtonMrs. John LongEmerson LyonsDwight PerkinsWilliam Wood PrinceMrs. Robert PritzkerMrs. George A. RanneyJohn D. Rockefeller IVWilliam SibleyJonathan SpenceMrs. Lye SpencerLee SchoolerOliver StatlerMrs. Jeannette SteinMrs. Philip K. WrigleyVisiting Committee to the HumanitiesClass 1 (term expiring September 30, 1974)James W. AlsdorfArthur A. BaerCharles BentonEdwin A. BergmanLeigh B. BlockMrs. George V. BobrinskoyMichael BraudeGaylord DonnelleyPaul FrommJames R. GetzLeo S. GuthmanCharles C. Haffner IIIJames F. Hoge, Jr.Denison B. HullSigmund W. KunstadterMrs. George T. LanghorneEarle LudginMrs. C. Phillip MillerClass 2 (term expiring September 30, 1975)Peter B. BensingerBowen Blair67Gwendolyn BrooksMrs. Lester CrownMrs. Edison DickStanley M. FreehlingMrs. Maurice P. GeraghtyBertrand GoldbergDaggett HarveyMrs. Sidney G. HaskinsMrs. Glen A. LloydAnthony L. MichelWilbur C. MunneckeMrs. William R. OdellGeorge A. PooleBryan S. Reid, Jr.Norman RossRudy L. RugglesCalvin P. SawyierMrs. Farwell P. SmithGeorge B. YoungClass 3 (term expiring September 30, 1976)Mrs. Eugene A. DavidsonMrs. Frank D. MayerMrs. Gilbert H. OsgoodMrs. Walter P. PaepckeMrs. Paul S. RussellMrs. Richard L. SelleJoseph R. ShapiroAlfred C. Stepan, Jr.Gardner H. Stern (Chairperson)Mrs. John P. WellingMrs. Frank H. WoodsVisiting Committee to the Law SchoolClass 1 (term expiring September 30, 1974)Hammond ChaffetzFrank Cicero, Jr.James H. Douglas, Jr.Frank GreenbergJ. Gordon HenryWilliam E. JacksonRobert J. KutakRex E. LeeFrank D. Mayer, Jr.Robert McDougal, Jr.The Hon. Stanley MoskDallin H. OaksRoberta C. RamoGrantlen E. RiceThe Hon. Walter V. SchaeferMilton Shadur (Chairperson)Edward L. Wright Class 2 (term expiring September 30, 1975)Ingrid L. BeallMilton A. GordonThe Hon. George N. LeightonMichael E. MeyerGeorge A. Ranney, Jr.The Hon. Alvin B. RubinCharles D. SatinoverJustin A. StanleyMavin T. TeppermanKenneth S. TollettThe Hon. Philip W. ToneHarold A. WardDonald J. YellonClass 3 (term expiring September 30, 1976)Laura BanfieldRobert H. BorkFrank H. DetweilerJohn DoarAnthony C. GilbertRichard M. HarterPeter T. JonesAbe KrashMary Lee LeahyJudge Harold LeventhalJudson H. MinerJay A. PritzkerBernard G. SangGeorge L. Saunders, Jr.Wallace J. Stenhouse, Jr.Stephan E. TallentJerome S. WeissJudge John Minor WisdomVisiting Committee to the LibraryClass 2 (term expiring September 30, 1975)A. Robert AbboudRobert S. AdlerRoger BensingerDavid BorowitzEugene A. DavidsonWilliam DixJames R. DonnelleyDaniel J. EdelmanRichard EldenW. Leonard Evans, Jr.Katharine Graham (Chairperson)Gertrude Himmelfarb ,Stephen McCarthyMrs. C. Phillip MillerMrs. John Nef68Max PalevskyGeorge A. PooleGeorge A. Ranney (Vice-Chairperson)Victoria Post RanneyMrs. Joseph RegensteinHermon D. SmithRalph TylerRobert A. WallaceEdward H. WeissClass 3 (term expiring September 30, 1976)Mrs Michael ArlenVisiting Committee to the Department of MusicClass 1 (term expiring September 30, 1974)Milton BabbittMrs. John E. BakerBruno BartolettiElliott C. Carter, Jr.Mrs. Maurice CottleMrs. James H. DouglasCarol FoxMrs. Martha Asher FriedbergPaul FrommMs. Raya GarbousovaTito GobbiBertrand GoldbergWilliam E. HartmannMargaret HillisGeorge IrwinGeorge Fred KeckLeon KirchnerGeorg SoltiMrs. Eileen SouthernMrs. John V. SpachnerPeter Gram SwingMrs. J. Harris Ward (Chairperson)Class 2 (term expiring September 30, 1975)Mrs. A. Watson ArmourMrs. Granger CostikyanMrs. Lester CrownBenny GoodmanMrs. John GrayMrs. Henry MeersAlbert NewmanRobert SempleMrs. Robert D. StuartLowell WadmondClass 3 (term expiring September 30, 1976)Mrs. Ralph BrownMrs. Willard Gidwitz Visiting Committee to the Oriental InstituteClass 1 (term expiring September 30, 1974)Arthur S. BowesMrs. G. Corson EllisJohn W. B. HadleyMrs. John J. LivingoodAlbert H. NewmanWilliam J. RobertsClass 2 (term expiring September 30, 1975)Harvey W. Branigar, Jr.Sanger P. RobinsonGardner H. SternChester D. TrippMrs. Chester D. TrippRoderick S. WebsterMrs. Roderick S. WebsterClass 3 (term expiring September 30, 1976)Russell M. BairdMrs. Russell M. BairdMrs. Margaret B. Cameron (Chairperson)Arthur DixonIsak V. GersonMrs. Isak V. GersonRobert C. GunnessAlbert F. HaasMrs. Albert F. HaasMarshall M. HollebMrs. Marshall M. HollebWilliam O. HuntMrs. C. Phillip MillerWilliam M. SpencerVisiting Committee to the Division of the SocialSciencesClass 1 (term expiring September 30, 1974)Thomas J. BataCharles L. BrownKatharine GrahamArthur C. Nielsen, Jr.Arthur W. SchultzSydney Stein, Jr.Dael WolfleClass 2 (term expiring September 30, 1975)Edgar Stern, Jr.Class 3 (term expiring September 30, 1976)James W. Button (Chairperson)James H. IngersollBeryl W. SprinkelFrank H. Woods69Visiting Committee to the School of Social ServiceAdministrationClass 1 (term expiring September 30, 1974)Mrs. John J. BerganMrs. Robert L. FooteMrs. Zollie FrankIrving B. HarrisElliot LehmanKenneth F. MontgomeryKenneth NewbergerJoseph Regenstein, Jr.Lawrence K. SchnadigMerrill ShepardMrs. Bernard A. WeissbourdMaynard I. WishnerClass 2 (term expiring September 30, 1975)Philip D. Block, Jr.James Brown IVSidney EpsteinCharles R. FeldsteinMrs. Howard GoodmanMrs. Herbert S. GreenwaldHarry H. HageyMortimer B. HarrisMrs. W. Press HodgkinsMrs. Lazarus KrinsleyMrs. Remick McDowellClass 3 (term expiring September 30, 1976)Joseph P. AntonowJohn A. Bross, Jr.Dr. Kenneth B. ClarkMrs. William M. Collins, Jr.William W. Darrow, Jr.Stanley G. Harris, Jr. (Chairperson)Mrs. Ben W. HeinemanC. Virgil MartinMrs. Robert B. Mayer Henry MeersMrs. Bernard D. MeltzerPaul L. MullaneyMrs. George A. RanneyHermon D. SmithSydney Stein, Jr.Gardner H. Stern, Jr.Visiting Committee on Student Programs andFacilitiesClass 2 (term expiring September 30, 1975)Arthur BaerW. Leonard Evans, Jr.Frances Moore FergusonHoward MillerKenneth H. NealsonFarwell SmithLucille StraussBernard WeissbourdDr. Douglas WhiteClass 3 (term expiring September 30, 1976)William H. AbbottHope AbelsonRussell M. BairdJohn Jay BerwangerBernard J. DelGiornoJohn DilleRobert Greenebaum (Chairperson)Irving HarrisVirginia KarnesMichael NemeroffMrs. George RanneySharon RockefellerRobert E. SamuelsDaniel C. SmithRichard J. SmithDr. Andrew ThomasMrs. George H. Watkins70MEMORIAL TRIBUTESGERARD P. KUIPER, 1905-1973Former University of Chicago Professor Gerard P.Kuiper died in Mexico City, December 23, 1973. Hewas born in Harencarspel, The Netherlands,December 7, 1905. Kuiper entered Leiden University in 1924, received a B.Sc. in 1927 and a Ph.D. in1933; he came to the United States in 1933 andbecame a naturalized citizen in 1937. He was aResearch Fellow and Research Associate at the LickObservatory of the University of California between1933 and 1935, and a Lecturer at Harvard in1935-36; he joined the faculty of The University ofChicago in 1936, and worked at Yerkes Observatoryfor 24 years thereafter. He was engaged in researchand as a consultant with various groups duringWorld War II. He served two three-year terms asDirector of the Yerkes and McDonald Observatories(1947-49, 1957-60). In 1960 he moved to the University of Arizona at Tucson and founded the Lunarand Planetary Laboratory there. He carried out hisDoctoral Thesis under the great Danish astronomerEjnar Hertzsprung at Leiden, and throughout hisentire career showed the influence of this greatscientist.Kuiper' s period at the Yerkes Observatory included the second blossoming of that institution asone of the crucial astronomical research and teaching centers in the world. The first blossoming(1897-1904) ended with George Hale's departure forCalifornia to found the Mount Wilson Observatory.Hale took the promising young Walter Adams withhim; and the great Frank Schlesinger departed forAllegheny Observatory of the University ofPittsburgh at about the same time.The renaissance at Yerkes was a result of thesuperhuman efforts of Otto Struve in the 1930s.Struve became Director of the Observatory in 1932and brought into realization two decisive events: thebringing to Yerkes (with the strong support of President Hutchins) three brilliant young foreignastronomers, Kuiper, S. Chandrasekhar, and BengtStromgren; the second step was the founding of theMcDonald Observatory. In that inciting atmosphereKuiper matured into one of the finest observationalastronomers of the twentieth century.Kuiper' s research falls into three periods: the early one, in which he was active in fields of stellarastronomy; a middle period, in which he was concerned principally with problems of planets andtheir satellites; and a third period, dealing with continued work on the solar system and with infraredstudies of the spectra of stars.The most important results of his early periodconsisted in the improvement and the widening ofour knowledge of various important categories ofstars: double stars, stars showing fast motion, reddwarf stars, etc.; and the publication of severalfundamental papers of very great importance concerning the brightness of the sun, the temperaturescale of the stars, and certain relationships betweenother physical characteristics of the stars.Kuiper was a tireless observer at the telescope,and his observing programs were constructed generally within a theoretical framework. He was not anobservational artist of the type of the late WalterBaade; but he knew what he wanted, and he wouldspend great effort over long periods of time todevelop methodologies and instrumentation thatwould make the desired observational programspossible. This aproach went as far in some cases asthe initiation of site surveys for the establishment ofcompletely new observational facilities at favorablelocations — all for the sake of improving the qualityof certain kinds of observations to a point wherethey could furnish the desired information. Anexample of this was the selection of an observing siteon Mt. Lemmon, north of Tucson, Arizona, and theconstruction of an observatory there, which hasresulted in magnificent photographs of the planetJupiter and other objects.Kuiper' s impact on the course of twentieth-century astronomy has been considerable, and hasbeen of two kinds: discoveries, and the bringing intoexistence, as editor, of two sets of volumes concerned with the present state of knowledge in thesolar system and in the stellar universe. In the firstcategory, some of the most important are: the discovery of two new planetary satellites (Miranda, asatellite of the planet Uranus; Nereid, a satellite ofthe planet Neptune) from observations with the 82-inch McDonald reflector; the discovery of an atmosphere surrounding Titan, the brightest satellite ofthe planet Saturn; and the discovery of the presenceof water vapor in the atmospheres of stars. In the71second category, the four-volume work Planets andSatellites, and the nine-volume compendium, Starsand Stellar Systems, may turn out to be his greatestand most lasting monument.It is interesting to note that Kuiper died as he hadlived. A week before Christmas, 1973, he went toMexico for the purpose of covering large areas injeeps and small airplanes looking for a new site foran observatory which was to be a joint effortbetween Kuiper' s Lunar and Planetary Laboratoryand the University of Mexico. At the end of thissurvey he returned to Tucson for a day, and thenwent back to Mexico City, with his wife, to prepare atelevision series; he died there in his sleep. He issurvived by his wife, Sarah, a son, Paul, and adaughter, Lucy.The above memorial was written by William W.Morgan, the Bernard E. and Ellen C. Sunny Distinguished Service Professor of Astronomy andAstrophysics.LEO STRAUSS, 1 899-1 973Leo Strauss, Robert M. Hutchins DistinguishedService Professor Emeritus of Political Science, diedin Annapolis, Maryland, on October 18, 1973. Professor Strauss was born in Kirchhain, Hesse,Germany on September 20, 1899, and was educatedin German schools and universities. He received thePh.D. from Hamburg in 1921 for a dissertation onthe epistemology of F. H. Jacobi. He left Germany inthe 1930s, settling in the United States in 1938 andtaking up a teaching post at the Graduate Faculty ofPolitical and Social Science, The New School forSocial Research, where he remained until 1949, theyear in which he joined the Department of PoliticalScience at The University of Chicago. He retiredfrom this University in 1967, taught next atClaremont Men's College, and was the ScottBuchanan Distinguished Scholar-in-Residence atSt. John's College, Annapolis, at the time of hisdeath.Mr. Strauss' s scholarly corpus consists at presentof some 80 contributions to journals and 13 books, ofwhich three are collections of articles and two are theelaborations of material delivered on lectureships.Some of his books are available in translation in sixEuropean languages. Between 1930 (Die Religions-kritik Spinozas) and 1958 (Thoughts on Machia-velli), most of his books were on the moderns; from1964 to his death, his books were on the classicancients. Known as he is for having inclined toward antiquity, it is worth noting that his studies ofSpinoza, Hobbes, and Machiavelli, as well asNatural Right and History, appeared in roughly thefirst half of the period during which his books werebeing published. It was characteristic of his scholarship that he did not criticize, and most certainly didnot dismiss, where he had not first given his carefulattention. It appears also that he did not merelyprefer antiquity but rather rediscovered it throughan arduous process that evidently impressed him asan ascent.Social science, and especially political science,knew Mr. Strauss as a severe and sometimes sharpcritic. He came close to suggesting that the socialsciences, through the abstraction from moral concern that accompanied the quest for scientificvalidity, were in danger of becoming irrelevant. In afamous remark in "An Epilogue" to Essays on theScientific Study of Politics (ed. Herbert J. Storing),Mr. Strauss asserted that the new political sciencewas in the position of fiddling while Rome burned.He seems to have provided a forecast that socialscience has been blaming itself for not producing;he did not foresee how far his criticism would become the confession of the discipline.Mr. Strauss has long been described as controversial, and in view of his thought could hardly havebeen described otherwise. To modernity he taughtthe claims of antiquity. In an era profoundly affected by the successes of science he kept alive deepreservations against the unreflective enlargement ofthat vast human enterprise. In an age overrun by thebelief in history, he reminded of eternity. Whereconvention or culture was regarded as everything, hespoke of nature. Those who twisted nature into alicense heard from him about propriety andconvention. Ideologists harboring behind sciencewere rebuked in the name of philosophy. The presumptuous who appropriated the dignity of philosophy were admonished to look within and learnmodesty. Above all, those who apotheosized the hereand now were called to elevate the mind's eye andpractice that form of forbearance or moderationthat gazes without prejudice on every place andtime.Pursuing the last remark, it should be said thatMr. Strauss was regarded as controversial alsobecause of his manner of reading and interpretingthe texts that he studied. He declined to assume,from the outset, that in all ages and circumstancesmen wrote with the same freedom that is used nowas a matter of course. It is worth noting that a dedication to historicism, to a belief in the radicaldifference between ages and places, has not alwaysrestrained scholars from denouncing as fanciful anapproach to alien writings that insisted on the need72to study them as having been fashioned in, if not by,circumstances unlike our own.Emphasis on his achievements in the interpretation of texts is not misleading, for much of hisscholarship consisted of clarification of the historyor tradition of political philosophy through what hascome to be called "careful reading." The questionarises reasonably enough whether the history ofpolitical philosophy is itself philosophic; and itarises with especial force when the interpretation ofthat history leads away from philosophy of historyaltogether, thus depriving the history as such of apeculiar philosophic gravity. The question deservesto be faced.Mr. Strauss's work has shown effectively what interpretation aims at. It aspires to resemble theimmersion of a dry root in water rather than thegrafting of a scion onto alien stock: the text acquiresat best the fullness that belonged to it implicitly andthat it must achieve in the reader's thought before itcan be said to have reached its own completion.Always the possibility exists that the author of thetext has expressed his thought not only explicitly butthrough a reticence, and the interpreter must therefore be alert both to what is present simply and towhat is present in the mode of a void, withouttenuous, arbitrary, or tendentious selections out ofthe infinite field of the absent. In brief, the mind ofthe interpreter must be at the same time passive tothe initiative of the author and active in bringing tothe text a richly furnished scholarly and human experience. Interpretation that intrudes nothing extraneousinto the economy of the text but that supplies thetext with an amplitude drawn from the same material as that of which the text is fashioned might berare, but surely is philosophic. And so far as thephilosophic activity itself consists of the collaboration of passivity and activity in relation to a world,interpretation is not the instrument but the emulative co-partner in the theoretical activity proper.It is easy to recognize Mr. Strauss's stature andimpossible to foretell his influence. He left an unknowable number of followers on several continents,but the sense in which he left a school is problematic. The term "Straussians" is at present muchmore common than "Straussism." Certainly he didnot open up the thought of classical antiquity without projecting the content of that thought, nor didhe contrast antiquity and modernity with an indecisive mind on the great issues of nature, thewhole, and the ground of the human good. He proclaimed a conception that the world considersobsolete but that yet exhibits, partly because of him,some of the signs of immortality through the veil ofpresumed moribundity.The world that Mr. Strauss taught, provoked, andsometimes offended is poorer now that he is gone.The ones who knew him and his care take leave ofhim with a sorrow I cannot express.The above tribute was written by Joseph Cropsey,Professor of Political Science.73REPORT OF THE STUDENT OMBUDSMANFOR THE WINTER QUARTER, 1973During Winter Quarter, 1 973, the Student Ombudsman's Office investigated approximately 65 complaints, and attempted to serve the miscellaneousneeds of those students who came to see us. Thetotal number of students using our Office each quarter has remained constant over the past several yearsdue to two offsetting trends. On the one hand, awider range of students reaches our Office eachquarter: an increasing number of graduate students(although still very few professional school students),foreign students, apartment dwellers, and studentgroups. On the other hand, there have been fewercases which require more drastic action: requests foran investigation of a University official's behavior,for major policy change, or for advice or intervention in disciplinary proceedings. The Ombudsman'sOffice seems to have obtained wider legitimacy atthe expense of being involved in more radicalchanges.Students who come to see us are usually unhappywith some administrator or administrative decision.Each wants a solution to his individual dilemma, nota reform of the more general problem suggested byhis complaint. At most, we are usually asked tobandage, rather than perform surgery, on an appendage of the University. Those complaining areconcerned with particular and personally odiousencounters with the University, rather than withgeneral deficiencies or problems in the University orits community. In fact, there is little recognitionshown of any common community; rather, it isalways a problem of how to deal with "them."Thus, most students come to us complaining ofthe University bureaucracy. The term they use,bureaucracy, is itself revealing, for it describesgroups of people, often including faculty members,appalled at being tagged with such a label. Thisdivergence in role perception can usually be tracedto a simple lack of communication at the personallevel. Specific illustrations here are dangerous, forinvestigations after the fact will turn up oppositeand irreconcilable stories. The student will complainof rude treatment, snappy or elusive answers, andinadequate or preposterous explanations by anadministrator. The administrator will reply that thestudent arrogantly demanded an explanation to aself-explanatory administrative decision, that suchan explanation was then offered, politely and in detail, with every effort made to accomodate theindividual student's need. Yet it has usually beenour experience that students who are treated welldon't complain, and certainly don't fabricatemalicious stories about administrators. Severalexamples might show this better.One student was angry about his treatment atBillings Hospital's Zoller Dental Clinic. He enteredthe Clinic in intense pain, and asked to be treated.He was told that his case was not interesting enoughto merit consideration from the Clinic, whichhandles only special cases. He was not informed thatemergency dental care is offered at Student Health,not given the name of any recommended Hyde Parkdentist who might be able to see him, and notoffered an explanation of why Zoller's policy is suchthat they could not treat him. He was merely shownthe door.Another student, who had mistakenly dropped hisHarper library book in the nearby Art library bin,was unhappy because he had been fined 25 cents aday for the three weeks it took to send the book the200-foot distance to its proper place. The student'samazement at such a delay turned bitter when p.library clerk told him that his mistake was a stupidone, that he should have anticipated a reasonabledelay, and that this would be a good lesson for himin the future. The same thing happened whenanother student dropped a recalled book in theregular return slot.We also had a complaint from a student who wascharged for a throat culture Billings discarded without analyzing. The student was told that since theculture was taken, the student must pay for it.These four problems were easily solved. Therejected dental patient understood the Clinic'spolicy, once it was explained and once he was nolonger in pain; the two library fines were reduced oreliminated by the library administration; and thethroat culture charge was cancelled. All fourproblems, and doubtless others we didn't see, couldeasily have been avoided if something more thanperfunctory or arbitrary answers were givenoriginally.Yet if occasional curtness and tactlessness onlydemonstrate that administrators are like everyone74else, then the "if I let you do it, I'll have to let 7,150other people do it" attitude sets them apart. Thisabsurd all-or-nothing stance certainly has no placeat an institution the size of The University ofChicago. When general policy works a hardship on astudent with a particular problem, or when such astudent deserves to be exempted, then that policyshould be laid down. Instead, it is too often wavedmadly in the student's face, like some sort of divinetestament.For example, one student came to our Office aftershe was unable to convince a dean to let her changecourses late in the quarter. Due to an earlier failureof communication, this student thought she hadregistered for the class which she was attending, notthe one the dean had listed. After our Office talkedto him, the dean was persuaded to allow the change,but made the student pay a late fee. The student,already dependent and overextended on financialaid, had to cut down on food expenses to pay thefine. When we told the dean this, he expressedsympathy, but said some line must be drawn to prevent widespread disregard for policy.While such an extreme example is (so far as weknow) rare, so is the attitude which allowsexemptions from policies in such cases. We hadcases involving housing contracts, library fines, andhealth insurance where similar rigidity, if not misanthropy, was common. For instance, one studentwas prevented (by a security guard) from deliveringa message to a friend in Bartlett gym because hedidn't have a locker pass, only a University identification. Another student, a STEP tutor, wasn'tallowed to bring his pupil into a part of Ida Noyes.In both cases, the person in charge was afraid totalanarchy might erupt if exceptions to rules weremade.Probably that area of the University with thelargest number of administrative problems is thehospital system. Our Office has had hospital complaints in such areas as insurance coverage, billing,Student Health, the labs, hiring policy, andadmittance procedure into certain clinics. We seeonly one fraction of one segment (the students) ofthe incoming population, and only that fractionaggrieved with the non- medical aspects of thesystem. Even so, we receive a large number of hospital complaints. This would suggest the need for anindependent hospital grievance procedure. Such aprocedure (the medium of which might be considered a kind of hospital ombudsman) could evensave the hospital money, by freeing hospitalemployes engaged in ad hoc problem-solving, sothat they might spend more of their time performingtheir assigned functions. Our Office discussed thisidea with both the University and the Billings Hos pital administration, and made such a suggestionformally in writing, but without success. We weretold that there was no money available for such aproject. For the many who have found, and willcontinue to find, the bureaucratic maze of BillingsHospital baffling and frustrating, this is unhappynews.Many times, of course, those in the administrationwere responsive to student problems as soon as theyheard of them. One student came to us unhappy because the college writing competency exam wasscheduled for the Saturday before Easter, a day onwhich he and others would have religious obligations. The person in charge of the exam was glad toaccomodate them by- changing the exam to a moreacceptable day. Other students found people willingto consider changes in the minibus routes, to dealwith the availability of calculators, to clear up payroll check difficulties, and even to discuss thequality of Sunday dinners in the dorms. Also, atowel service for women was finally introduced inBartlett. This simple service, always enjoyed by maleusers of the gym, came about because our Officefinally moved up the administrative chain highenough to find someone sympathetic to the reparation of an obvious inequity.Possibly because the awful weather forces peopleto their studies, Winter Quarter traditionally bringsa sharp increase in the number of academic cases.Even so, because most students are defensive concerning personal academic difficulties, we receiverelatively few of these cases. Unless one thinks thatsuch areas as curriculum, teaching, grading, andcourse offerings are so good that they are beyond reproach or criticism here at The University ofChicago, the paucity of such cases is regrettable.Thus, complaints about academic quality areubiquitous, but are rarely brought forward officially. Two attitudes are involved here. First,people's interests in courses often end at the close ofthe quarter. They don't need to deal with the coursesagain, so they don't expend any effort trying toimprove them. The underlying assumption of thistrain of thought is the popular myth that teachingcounts for very little in the researchers' dominion ofHyde Park. Second, many people will believe that acourse didn't fail, rather, they did. They assume thatthey should be able to succeed in any course, nomatter how poorly organized, inadequately taught,or arbitrarily graded. If they do well, their desiresfor reform are co-opted by success. If they do poorly,they are embarrassed, and feel incapable of makingjustifiable criticism. Of the many academic complaints I heard when I was not in my Office, I couldhardly get one person to follow up his or her self-75indulgent whining with a complaint to our Office, adean or faculty committee, or the faculty memberdirectly involved.The general malaise of student action in this areahas had at least one noticeable affect on the faculty:without exception they were anxious to discuss thoseproblems that did reach them. Faculty memberswere willing to discuss complaints on grading, classsize, lack of faculty classroom preparation, andpersonal prejudice openly and thoroughly; in fact,they made it clear to us and to their students, thatthey were open to all legitimate criticism. This is notto say that faculty are known for taking the initiativewith regard to the quality of teaching (for manyproblems we saw were due to their distinct lack ofinterest in course teaching). Rather, when studentsdo confront faculty with particular criticism, theyare responsive in that particular area.Individual student complaints did bring sometangible results. In one 200-level biology course, twostudents felt the class grades in general, and needless to say, their grades in particular, were undulylow. Both students believed such a grading policydamaged the future prospects of virtually all pre-medical candidates. The professor acknowledgedthat the class had done poorly, and granted the twostudents the retests they desired. Moreover, the professor, already troubled by what he felt was theclass's inadequate preparation at the 100-level,During the Spring Quarter, 1973, the StudentOmbudsman's Office investigated 65 complaints;during the Summer Quarter, 14. Most of the complaints were the usual assortment of chronic University problems which we had been seeing all year:mistaken billings, rude treatment of students,flawed student services, and the library system. OurOffice was increasingly successful in helping students with these complaints, for we learned who issympathetic within the bureaucracy, who should beavoided, and who must be indulged. This abilitymeans little to the great majority of students whonever use our Office, and must reason with the oftenunreasonable people who are the University's first became convinced that he should investigate thehealth of the common core biology courses. Thiscase of self-interest leading to community benefitwould certainly have gladdened the heart of AdamSmith.Other academic cases led to less tangible personalbenefits for those who complained, but ofteninitiated student-faculty dialogue and greaterfaculty familiarity with student grievances. At leasttwo professors were genuinely surprised at the factthat students found their classes poorly organizedand their teachings obscure. Out of such revelationsmay come better teaching.Finally, our Office received a complaint about thetraffic problem on 57th Street in front of RegensteinLibrary. During icy days in particular, it is a treacherous trip from Hull Gate to the doors of Regenstein. The University legal office had been lobbyingfor stop signs in the middle of the block, but the citymade the installation of such signs conditional uponthe closing of Hull Gate to traffic. This the University refused to do. It was our suggestion that theclosing of the Hull entrance, while inconvenient,would be justified. The fight between the Universityand the city, already having gone on too long, couldwell continue until a serious accident occurs there.Joel Levinline of administrative defense. Moreover, there isoften a correlation between remoteness from directstudent contact and a willingness to accomodate anindividual student's problem. Thus, the personstudents first encounter is often as petty and unyielding as his superior four times removed is likelyto be magnanimous and accomodating. Often thesesuperiors are willing to bend or abandon generalpolicy to accomodate individual students.One student who came to see us had been laid offwork and couldn't continue paying tuition. Eventhough the withdrawal deadline for a full refundhad passed, the dean (who insisted that we tell noone of his generosity, because he can't say no to any-REPORT OF THE STUDENT OMBUDSMANFOR THE SPRING AND SUMMER QUARTERS, 197376one as it is and is afraid of word getting around)allowed a full refund. We also had a complaint froma foreign student who was unhappy because he wasbilled for the destruction of his toilet. The damagehad been caused by a bar of soap that had somehowmade its way from a window ledge into the pipesbeneath the toilet. The student said that the "WindSpirit" had done it, not he. We found an administrator in the Housing Office who was willing toaccept this explanation and drop the billing charges.Exceptions such as these are often not enough,though, if the larger cause remains. It is relativelyeasy for our Office to take care of one student byyelling loud enough long enough. It is more difficultto get some administrators to face the more substantial problem underlying the individual case.They seem to prefer ad hoc accomodations toindividuals, allowing those too timid to complain tobe sacrificed.For example, by Spring, the Regenstein book returnsystem was in such a state of disorder that theLibrary could not often distinguish between booksreturned on time and those returned late. Whensomeone came to us complaining about his fine, wewould have him tell his story to a Library administrator who regularly saw such unhappy students.After interviewing him, this administrator claimedthe remarkable power of knowing whether or not thestudent was telling the truth, and lifted or confirmedhis fine accordingly.A female student complained about the sanitarynapkin situation in the women's rest rooms oncampus. The rest rooms were universally stockedwith kotex dispensers, while this student claimedthat she and most of her peers prefer tampax,especially due to its convenience in an emergency.Our Office had little success in gaining sympathyfrom the Plant Department, in which one administrator likened the difference in types of sanitary napkins to the difference in brands of soap. Wefinally moved high enough up the bureaucratic ladder to find someone who realized that there was aproblem. Yet originally, because of the expense ofnew dispensers, all he wished to do was to place onetampax dispenser in Regenstein, the buildinginitially in question, with signs in this building'sother women's rest rooms indicating the singlechange of dispensers. While, technically speaking,he accomodated the individual need, such an actionwas clearly an inadequate response. The administrator later agreed to order tampax dispensers for allnew buildings (particularly Cummings) and to beginalternating the two types of dispensers throughoutthe campus.The solution to the sanitary napkins problem is tied to monetary considerations (the University cannot afford to buy hundreds of new dispensersimmediately), as are so many other campus projects,problems, and policies. During the- Spring andSummer, we received complaints about the lack ofsecurity, bicycle security, dwindling library services,the drabness and inadequacy of student housing (afactor hard to overestimate in importance for thepsychological and intellectual well-being of those< directly involved), and the absence of a referral service for off-campus housing. All of these, as well asthe sanitary napkin issue, had the full verbalconcern and appropriate support of many administrators, and all were either dismissed or held back insome way because of lack of funds.Unfortunately, students don't know how little orhow much money the University has, what the realpriorities in spending that money are, and whetheror not the particular administrator shaking his orher head and saying sorry really means it. It is all tooeasy to use lack of funds as the official excuse for rejecting proposals contravened a priori. There isalways some money. The question is what is mostimportant on the scale of priorities for those whocontrol it. (Along this line, we passed on a complaintfrom a student who felt that the widespread distribution of the University of Chicago Record is acostly and reckless diversion of funds which mightbe used for more important activities, such as student aid. Suffice it to say, this suggestion was notwell received.) Fortunately, we did not have to takefinancial limitations into the considerations of allthe cases brought to our attention.Our Office received its annual complaint about theMitchell Tower bells. While the unhappy studentwould agree with Keats that "heard melodies aresweet, but those unheard are sweeter," the morepedestrian types around Hyde Park seem to enjoythe occasional melodies from atop Reynolds Club.We also received a complaint from an alumnuswhose grade change submitted seven years ago hadstill not made it onto her official transcript. Thischange was easily accomplished. And we received anirate letter, during the Summer, from a studentwhose Morbidity and Mortality Weekly was notbeing forwarded from his dorm. When the studenthad called the Housing Office about the matter,they claimed that they had not seen the magazine.The student felt that someone in the Housing Officewas stealing his magazine. Although the later issueswere forwarded, the earlier ones were, tragically,never found.While the affliction of bureaucratic mediocrity isfar from unimportant, its effects on most studentsare usually minor. More important and more dis-77turbing is the growth of atomized units, each with itsprovincial attitude, within the University. Referringto The University of Chicago as a community ofscholars sharing common experiences and knowledge, with easy access from one sub-community toanother, seems an inaccurate, if not a hypocritical,view to many students. There is often a general lackof information about, and an indifference to, partsof the University not one's own, and certainly littledesire or attempt to achieve common purposes. At *its most unfortunate, this fragmentation of theUniversity into separate little empires fosters anattitude of indifference to all things unconnectedwith the smooth running of each individual empire.It is not often put as eloquently as it was by a highlibrary official, replying to a suggestion that the section north of Regenstein be used as an outdoor reading area (as it was originally planned to be), with theremark, "What will it do for the library?" Formany, changes will be tolerated only if they helptheir little worlds.In June, we had a complaint from a fourth-year student in the College that the Registrar's Officewouldn't allow her to graduate with honors becausea secretary had inadvertently omitted her namefrom the honors list. A honors-less diploma had thusbeen ordered for her. When the Registrar was informed of the mistake by the very secretary whomade the error, he gave the student the choice ofgraduating without honors in June or graduatingwith honors in September. We asked the Registrarwhy a blank diploma couldn't be given now, theactual one mailed when it had been printed, and thestudent allowed to graduate with the rest of her classwithout being penalized for a mistake she didn'tcommit. He said that such a change would inconvenience his Office, and would violate Universityregulations. He showed no concern for the student,and no respect for the student's academic department, which had requested the Registrar to allowthe exception several times. Such concern wasabsent until we reached the President's Office,where the decision was changed.Much the same inability to see past one's ownimmediate area of concern was manifested whenone student complained about the fact that only onecampus phone existed in Regenstein. When wecalled the Library, we were told that the phones arenot its concern, but that of the Campus Phone Service. When we called this Service, we were told thatit only installed phones in places where they wererequested, and that the lack of campus phones is theLibrary's problem. Neither arm of the bureaucracywished to pay for the phones, so none were added.The whole issue of the University's rhetoric supporting its community of scholars versus the widely- held student view of fragmentation lies at the headof the dispute concerning the Convocation speaker.To try to state, in simple terms, a very complicatedsituation, a group of students, unhappy with thetone of the previous year's June Convocation speech,and with the scheduled absence of student participation in their own ceremony, formed a committeeto discuss various alternatives to the traditionalpresidentially-appointed faculty speaker. When thegroup attempted to discuss its ideas with faculty andadministration, they were met with what they feltwas evasiveness and duplicity (at which time theycame to our Office). Confined effort by the group ledto a meeting with President Levi. At this meeting,the group's idea of a student speaker (which hadevolved from earlier considerations of a studentvoice in the selection of the faculty speaker or anoutside speaker) was openly discussed and rejected.Basically, the proposal was refused because aseparate speaker for the College convocation wouldaccentuate the distinction between the College andthe rest of the University that the administrationwanted to minimize. The group was also told thatthere were doubts concerning a student's ability topresent a quality educational address, and that itsunhappiness with the previous speaker's subjectmatter was irrelevant, because free speech and academic freedom must not be restricted. (A curiousattitude, since the content of one student speechdelivered at the graduation failed to elicit this samefervent response because it was critical of the University.)For reasons not explained to the group, the President's Office reversed its position and allowed threestudent speakers. The large number of issues raisedby this entire case makes it an almost miniaturerepresentation of the broad spectrum of student-faculty disputes throughout the University. The students were told in a paternalistic and patronizingtone that the University knew what was best forthem. They were told, with regard to facultyspeakers, that it is not what you say, but how you sayit. They were denied the right to participate, even ifwhat was involved is the right to fail. Then, when theUniversity changed its mind, it was behind closeddoors, without student participation and without thegraciousness to allow the direct participation of thatgroup which had concerned itself with the problemfor several months. All in all, it was a shabby affair,concocted by people capable of much better.Yet the crux of the whole matter was the administration's view that a University community, howeverfragile, does exist. When President Levi spoke ofsuch a shared community at the meeting with thestudent group, he received a rather blank responsefrom students who obviously failed to feel a part of78any larger community (and said so at the meeting).The fact that such a community at best still excluded students from leadership roles at their ownConvocation was never discussed. One wonders howthe administration can hope to convince undergraduate students that it is crucial for the Collegenot to be isolated from the rest of the University,when it in turn isolates students from participationin greater University affairs.Certainly the goal of an open community ofscholarship is well worth pursuing. Many of theUniversity's academic programs are proof that thisgoal can, at least in part, be attained. It would betragic if failure comes because of the growing chasmbetween the administration and the students. Inmany ways, the most revealing part of this wholecase was the disbelief expressed by members of thestudent group when they heard that President Leviwould actually meet with them personally. The University must begin understanding its students andsharing its community with them if it is to attainthat greatness it so desires.Perhaps, since this is a final report, a word about theOmbudsman's Office itself is in order. The Ombudsman is hired to tread the often thin linebetween administration apologist and studentadvocate. He or she is to try to mediate disputesbetween parties of unequal strength. The Ombudsman is most successful when he gets the regularadministrative channels working, so that they mayserve the overwhelming majority of students whonever see him. His aim is action, not empathy withunderstandable positions which will serve no purpose. Yet most importantly, the Ombudsman is theonly administrator who is a student, who has nosuperior to whom he must officially report, and whois always new enough in the job that his or her peergroup and perspective is student- oriented, ratherthan administration- or faculty- oriented.The Ombudsman is the only student with easy access to all administrators. He most often winscases not by coercive power (he has none), nor bypersuasive power (most often people don't listen ordon't care), nor by threatening exposure (to whom).Most often people seem to accomodate him eitherbecause they want to help students, and cooperatingwith the Ombudsman is a cheap and painless way todo that, or because they want to get the Ombudsman off their backs. Many of these people seem tohave endless meetings to attend, reports to submit,appointments to keep; all seem to be doing jobs thepurposes of which I have usually failed to fathom. Ifthe Ombudsman is thought to be able to keep students away, or on a more personal basis, if he iswilling to listen to an administrator's description ofhis problems or of his devious enemy across the hall,he is likely to have his requests granted.This is not to say, by any means, that many administrators are neither competent nor concernedwith student problems. It is usually the incompetentones whom I saw, for they are the ones about whommost students complain. Moreover, I enjoyed talking to those administrators most concerned withstudent problems; unfortunately concern seems tohave no necessary relation to effectiveness.Yet ultimately, to speak of the Ombudsman'sOffice aside from its occupant and staff (mine, PaulYovovich, and Anna Robitaille, were usually exceptional and occasionally absurd, the best of bothworlds) is foolish. My one worry when I left was thatsomeday the occupant would not be up to the job,and that the University would react by abolishingthe Office. Such a tragedy would not be one ofirreplaceable loss. Rather, given the University'straditional hesitancy to add to or supplement thetype of student input which the Office provides forthe administration, it is likely that the functions wedo perform would go undone.Joel Levin79REPORT OF THE STUDENT OMBUDSMANFOR THE AUTUMN QUARTER, 1973During the Autumn Quarter, 1973, the StudentOmbudsman's Office handled 77 official complaintsand grievances. In addition, we provided a largenumber of directional, informational, and advisorialanswers to various questions posed about theUniversity. Of the 77 complaints, about 43 percentwere brought by women, 57 percent by men. Undergraduate students sought our services in greater proportion than one would expect from their relativenumbers among the major University divisions.Among the most distressing cases brought to usthis quarter were several disputes between students.Two of these involved subleasing arrangements. Theother was also an apartment-centered dispute overtelephone billing and several articles of personalproperty.In the case of the telephone billing, two upper-class students shared a phone until one moved out.Upon the other's receipt of the bill, each studentdenied she owed the greater share. Further, somefurniture which was removed when one moved outhas been claimed by the person who remained.In these cases, reasonably, the University doesn'thave any legal or coercive jurisdiction. Persuasion,both by a member of the Dean of Students' Officeand the Ombudsman's Office, has been attemptedin this case, but as yet no solution has been reached.Aside from a request for intercession by the Ombudsman or some other University official, theaggrieved student has very little recourse within theUniversity. This intercession may very well yield nosolution because of the absence of a binding power.I would suggest, though, that a mechanism beestablished, within the University, to deal with thegeneral problem of student vs. student disputeswhere other jurisdictions do not seem to cover theproblem. Of sourse, the mechanism would be amediatory service, rather than an adjudicatingagent.A situation which has received attention in anumber of previous Ombudsman's reports is that ofthe Regenstein coffee shop. It is all too clear that thepresent canteen is short of being pleasantly functional. In fact, no one is well served by the existingarrangement. The coffee is not especially good andthe atmosphere of the canteen drives persons to havetheir coffee and snacks elsewhere in the Library. The Library administration is not happy with refreshments being taken out of the canteen and consumed in work or study areas, nor are they happywith the increased wear and stain on the carpetsleading to the canteen. With neither the patrons northe Library administration satisfied with thecanteen one may well be puzzled and wonder whysomething is not being done. The fact is that untilthe Library can secure funds for reconstructing thecanteen area it will remain as it is.Many persons have expressed the feeling that animprovement over the present state can be achievedby instituting a "live" coffee concession similar tothe ones in Cobb, Wieboldt, Harper, etc., even without the immediate reconstruction of the facilities.During the Autumn Quarter, I met with the Director of the Library and a representative of one of thesuccessful campus coffee shop operations. It was myhope to facilitate arrangements for a live coffee andsnack service operating in the canteen now andcontinuing when new facilities are provided. Itbecame apparent, however, that the presentfacilities would place too many constraints on theoperation, so that at this time hopes for the futureare limited to (1) funds becoming available for thenecessary reconstruction of the coffee shop area and(2) agreement of the Library staff to allow studentuse of their presently restricted staff lounge area.Athletic facilities in general and women's athleticfacilities in particular were a great source of complaints in the Autumn Quarter. One would be hard-pressed to find anyone who does not agree thatpresent facilities are antiquated and insufficient.With the use of Bartlett, Ida Noyes, and the Field-house increasing greatly in recent years, problemsassociated with their use have been met belatedlyand insufficiently. For example, Bartlett has beenopen for Sunday use in the Winter Quarter and thisyear its Sunday hours were extended, but it took theintervention of our Office to extend Sunday swimming to include women.With the increased use of Bartlett by women,there has arisen an increased desire for permanentlockers. Because of the gym's original constructionplan the only room available for women's lockers isa small area, formerly used for storage. This roomnow contains showers, towel service, and a number80of temporary lockers. Our Office has now recommended several ways in which permanent lockerscan be provided for at least some of the femalepatrons of Bartlett. We hope that action upon theserecommendations will be taken soon.I have presented this particular problem as anexample of how a closer inspection of a matter canyield ways of offering greater efficiency of servicewithout demanding a great deal of money. It is imperative, though, that the University give newathletic facilities the utmost priority in its fundingefforts. Meanwhile, it is also important for the Athletic Department not only to respond to suggestionsbut to initiate its own ideas for increasing theefficiency of existing facilities.Yet, matters such as poor lighting in the Field-house, the overcrowding of Bartlett and the gym inIda Noyes, and the shortage and poor condition ofthe tennis courts, problems which were brought tous this past quarter, cannot be solved solely throughmore prudent use of the present facilities. New,adequate facilities must be erected to eliminatethese problems.A number of students in the introductory chemistrycourse were uneasy about those of their classmateswho used electronic calculators during the firstexam. They felt that the users of the calculators hada distinct advantage in terms of both time andaccuracy in obtaining the numerical answers toexam questions. They felt too that those who couldnot afford calculators should not be penalized.We spoke to the professor of the course, who wasquite sympathetic to the problem. He discussed thematter with the class and proposed to constructfuture exams in such a way as to emphasize problemsolutions and attach minimal importance to thefinal numerical answers. By this proposal, whichwas well received by the class, the professor verymuch reduced the value of the use of calculators andyet didn't ban them outright. We also spoke to theDepartment Chairman about the problem. His viewwas that each professor should properly make hisown decision about calculator policy.In one common core course a number of studentsfelt that the professor was unable to communicateeffectively with the class, and that the class was suffering because of this. As it turned out, much of theproblem was traced to the fact that the professor hadnever before taught a lower level course. After consulting with the Master of the -Collegiate Division,the professor himself decided that it would be best ifthe course were taken over by another professor.The most common topic of discussion at sherryhours or in my Office was that of College advising. In addition to particular incidents of alleged inadequacy on the part of advisers, a feeling of mistrust of advisers and their advice was common to anumber of the students with whom I talked. Wherespecific grievances were alleged, I spoke either to theDean of Undergraduate Students or to the adviser inquestion. A solution or reasonable explanationresulted from each of these meetings. As to the moregeneral complaint, I believe that three possibilitiesexist: (1) there may be substantive inadequacies incollege advising; (2) unfair blame may be placed onadvisers by students because advisers are identifiedwith "rules" and the administration and they areavailable as visible "targets" for students; (3) somecombination of (1) and (2). Whatever the real situation is, and the third possibility strikes me as themost probable, if many students mistrust theiradvisers, no matter how justifiably or unjustifiably,the problem demands attention.From my conversations with advisers, I found thatone large problem facing them is the difficulty ofobtaining accurate, up-to-date information from thevarious Collegiate Divisions. Associated with thisproblem is the concern voiced to me by anotherlarge number of students: the absence of coursedescriptions and faculty evaluations. These are themajor ways in which students can consider coursesfor registration. Descriptions of courses in ourCollege historically have been sketchy, and in thelast two years they have been irregular and ofdubious value. I have spoken to the Dean of theCollege about this and his own concern as well as hispromise to bring these matters up with theCollegiate Divisional Masters offer good hope forthe future.As seems apparent from the sampling of casesdescribed in this report, problems brought to theOmbudsman's office group themselves into threebroad categories: problems with facilities, academicproblems, and non-academic problems related tostudent life.We are all aware of the financial problems facingthe University. Estimates for the proposed Librarycoffee shop construction run in the neighborhood of$60,000. For new athletic facilities the estimates arein the millions of dollars. The implication seemsclear. Priorities need to be reevaluated so that, forexample, the critically needed athletic facilitiesreceive the attention they deserve. Meanwhile, inthe absence of new facilities, measures must beemployed to make the existing facilities as responsive as possible to the University community's needs.Fund-raising and budgeting considerations mustview athletic facilities as of primary importance.The Ombudsman's Office has dealt with a81number of complaints involving academic problemsranging from harsh grading to i&nfair exam policies.The confidential nature in which it is possible for usto handle such cases is probably responsible for thesizeable number which are brought to us.Finally, the cases involving advisers have broughtout something I would like to emphasize. Manycomplaints were not voiced until others were heardbringing similar complaints to us; then morestudents opened up and verbalized their problems.Often, it seems, one student may hesitate to seekcorrection of a problem, even when correcting itmight benefit other students as well as himself. It isthis hesitance that I have tried to reduce by publicizing the Ombudsman's Office.Paul G. YovovichDISCIPLINARY REVIEW BOARDThe Disciplinary Review Board has authority toreview decisions of University DisciplinaryCommittees set up under the procedures adopted.All members, other than the Dean of Students, serveone-year terms beginning in the Winter Quarter ofeach academic year. Members for 1974 are: Leonard Linsky (Chairman), Professor andChairman of the Department of Philosophy.Harold A. Richman, Professor and Dean of theSchool of Social Service Administration.Charles D. O'Connell, Vice-President and Deanof Students.Arvis Averette, graduate student.Jack Fuchs, undergraduate student.ERRATUMThe first two sentences of the Biochemistry Department's analysis of appointments which appeared in"Equal Employment Opportunity: Affirmative Action" (Record, Volume VII, Number 8, September21, 1973, page 243) should read:"While in recent years women have receivedabout 17 percent of the degrees in this field (HEWdata for 1960-69) there are currently very few seniordistinguished biochemists who are women (about 1percent according to the Department Chairman'sestimate). Further, at any level, the number ofminorities and women of high quality in the fieldwho are likely to be movable is quite small."82THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO RECORDOFFICE OF THE VICE PRESIDENT FOR PUBLIC AFFAIRSRoom 200, Administration BuildingHXaBo£I-HOOS1oE3r2.ONo zTJ X om £ C 33 P T>2 >— o ¦o'v 3HOzlO r-r- >s O— CO02 232z Q 1-* o m¦* rr 5'CO 3